#and I won the ship war of my youth

[vohalika]

Shipping comes in two distinct flavors, casual and competitive, and much like with video games, the casual shippers tend to have a lot more fun than the competitive ones fighting for canon. Sent from a competitive shipping veteran.

"you can't ship that, it'll never be canon!"

look, when I was your age, we shipped characters who never even met in canon. uphill. both ways. in the snow.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello!! I love your work! Everyday i literally check your page to see if you upload! You are the best!

Now, can i please request a human teen buddy ( around 15, small ) who is a genius, but still a kid, loves to have fun and literally seem dumb but is very smart. They end up on the lost light, and they hang around with some of the bots, like whirl, percy, nautica, brainstorm, rewind, domey, ratchet, drift, rodimus and mags & megs.

At first some of the bots had fun, but one time buddy, trusted them with their past. Telling everyone around that they didn’t had a parental figures growing up, they were always in foster care and the only thing that helped them was their intelligence, and because of that ended on a program to the lost light. Most of the bots are shocked, and they comfort buddy. But without buddy knowing, a war starts between their friends to win the custody of buddy and guide them.

Magnus wanted buddy to be in his care because they respected him and always asked him questions.

Rodimus wasn't much on the war, he was going to be the one that anounced the winner, but still wanted the best for their little friend.

Brainstorm and Percy tought of buddy as the little genius since they helped them sometimes in their works, and liked having them around.

Nautica tought of buddy as the sweetest thing and wanted to be around and never leave them like their real parents did.

Rewind and domey were fond of the kid and wanted to help them, and because they had a good taste in movies.

Drift was actually fond of buddy, because they never saw him as a monster or a traitor. They knew his backstory and all his problems, but they always treated him with adoration. He teached them how to fight and how to wield a sword.

Ratchet saw the kid most of the time because they were in the medbay a lot of time, watching when they healed somebot, he saw something on the kid, determination. He liked the kid, it reminded him of Drift. He started to teach them some medicine things.

Ratchet and Drift loved the kid, and they came to think of them as their own. When they heard their backstory they were sad, because, who could leave a great mind to itself, but they took the oportunity to be their guardian.

At the end of the day, ratch and drift won custody. And they were going to talk with buddy that night at swerve's. But as soon as they come inside, they hear crying. They inmediatly ran to the scene. And then they see how Buddy is chewing out some bot just because they talked badly about drift. After the bot rans out crying, drift grabs buddy and spins them in his arms while saying " you did so good, sweetie. You are the best!! That's my kid." Buddy's in shock. The ratchet says " that was awesome kiddo, you are awesome. You are the best kid." That hurt buddy and they answer with tears that they are the best parents in the world. After talking everything down, they become one little family. A little family who takes care of each other.

Sorry if it's to much. You can change or erase what you don't like.

This...I like this...

Let the custody battle begin!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy in the custody battle of the Lost Light (Ratchet and Drift are the winners)

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Human reader

MTMTE

Buddy was sent to the Lost Light via the ‘Young Liaison program��. This program helped get the youth of the nation into space programs at minimal to no cost at all.

Buddy was drawn from a lottery to join a field expedition on the Lost Light.

Their main assignment was to keep an eye out for any potential security risk Megatron may still have for the inhabitants of Earth.

They were certainly one of the youngest to graduate from the program, but that didn’t stop the adults from putting the 15-year-old on the ship.

Magnus and Rodimus making their way to the main bridge to meet with the new human liaison.

“I heard they were their youngest human graduate in the program.”--Rodimus

Magnus nods, showing him a data pad with the Liason’s record.

“Indeed, as well as having excelled in most of their classes, listed top of their classes and highly recommended by their peers-- ”—Magnus

“Sheesh! They sound like a mini you.”--Rodimus

They both stop when they see a small human looking from their perch in wonder at the ship around them.

“Magnus… did you also forget to tell me that they’re a kid?”--Rodimus

“…That explains many of the vague writing…”—Magnus

The human turns to the two mechs smiling widely walking to them with a hand outstretched.

“Hello! My name is Buddy, and I am your new liaison for Earth! You must be Rodimus and Ultra Magnus. It’s an honor to meet you two!”--Buddy

Rodimus flashes a smile at them and holds out a digit so Buddy could shake it.

“Welcome aboard Buddy. Have you gotten the tour yet?”--Rodimus

Buddy’s eyes widen in excitement.

“No sir, not yet. But I was hoping to know more about this ship and all!”--Buddy

Buddy stands up straighter.

“I mean—Thank you for offering me a tour Captain sir.”--Buddy

“You can just call me Rodimus, Buddy. Now, shall we?”--Rodimus

Rodimus offers his servo to Buddy to climb on.

They look a bit hesitant but then throw caution to the wind and climb on.

Buddy relaxes a bit sending him a happy smile.

They turn to Magnus.

“I will be reporting to the meeting room for our review Ultra Magnus sir. I have some paperwork that I need to review with you concerning Article C 4, sub section 3—are you okay?”--Buddy

Magnus is trying to hold in everything together.

“O-of course.”—Magnus

Buddy just had stars in their eyes as they met their new bosses and got the tour around the ship.

Many of the bots didn’t mind the little human now amongst them.

Soon enough Buddy managed to worm their way into the sparks of most of the crew thanks to the time spent together and the adventures they had.

One late night at Swerve’s Buddy decides to open up about some of their personal life before the Lost Light.

They bounced around from home to home thanks to the foster care system their ‘parents’ put them in.

And how their smarts were the only reason they even managed to get into the program.

There are some comforting words passed around.

As the words began to be pass around, many bots suddenly realized something.

They wanted to be there for Buddy.

Maybe even a potential parental figure?

… now let the custody battles begin.

To make things as fair and as safe as possible Megatron, Magnus and Rodimus pulled the entire thing together. Well, more Magnus and Megatron than Rodimus, he just really wants to be the announcer.

Magnus had to go through all the paperwork and applications for Buddy’s custody.

“No, no, no, definitely not them. What—who put Overlord’s name on the registry form!?”--Magnus

Whirl’s laughter is heard at the end of the hall.

Buddy safely in his cockpit taking notes per Whirl’s request.

“You see Buddy, we have to destroy them bit by bit. Sometimes you can’t to the big stuff, but it’s the teeny stuff that can REALLY winded a bot up.”—Whirl

Buddy nods scribbling more in their notebook.

“WHIRL!”--Magnus

“Now for the next part, escaping the claws of authority!”--Whirl

After the registry was filled, the rest was simple count of elimination or forfeit.

Many bots did find themselves thinking twice about becoming parental figures to Buddy and preferred to be friends to the human instead.

Heading into the semifinal’s things got a bit more structured.

Buddy spends about 2 weeks with each bot or bots who are potential candidates for the custody.

At the end of the 2 weeks Buddy is to stay with neutral bots meanwhile everything gets ready. The neutral bots were bots that didn’t want anything to do with the competition and could keep a relatively unbiased opinion of the competitors.

“And the winners for the neutral bots are… Ambulon, Powerglide, Nautica and… Whirl? How did Whirl even—“—Rodimus

Whirl smashes a cube on the ground in victory.

“HAHAHA! SUCK ON THAT LOSERS!”—Whirl

“Whirl, we all—“--Nautica

He tosses Buddy into his cockpit and runs out.

Powerglide, First Aid and Nautica run after him.

“Whirl! Stop hogging Buddy!”--Powerglide

“We’re coming Buddy!”--Nautica

“Don’t try to resist! It’ll only make him angrier!”—First Aid

“WHATS HAPPENING!!!!?????”--Buddy

Oh, that was the little detail that somehow never occurred to anyone on board.

To tell Buddy about how some bots on board were getting into fight to be their parents.

Buddy just thinks that they are holding some sort of ‘Can you stand the Organic’ competition like what happened last Halloween.

The finalist came down to 3 pairs, each with Whirl’s choice of Team name.

Brainstorm and Perceptor aka Simpatico.

Rewind and Chromedome aka RDCD.

And Ratchet and Drift aka Dratchet.

Brainstorm and Perceptor were first.

 They tried bonding with Buddy with all sorts of scientific things.

Trying to reach Buddy the best way they knew how:

Science!

Whether it be lawfully good science or Chaotic good science, that was up for debate on most days.

Perceptor walking back into the lab.

Brainstorm runs out the door with Buddy in his servos.

“Brainstorm! What in the name of—”--Perceptor

“HIT THE DECK PERCY!”--Buddy

Perceptor investigates the lab just as a colorful explosion of confetti filled the lab and part of Perceptor’s face.

“I told you not to do it!”--Buddy

“But it was a challenge! If that inventor could do it, so can I!”--Brainstorm

“Its fictional Brainstorm! Cloudy with a chance of meatballs is a FICTIONAL MOVIE! None of its inventions are supposed to work because its FICTIONAL!”--Buddy

“But—”--Brainstorm

“BRAINSTORM!”--Perceptor

“… I suggest you start running Stormy.”--Buddy

“Agreed!”--Brainstorm

By the two weeks the pair had grown fonder of Buddy, but the pair soon realized that it would be best if they just stayed close friends with Buddy.

It wasn’t anything they did wrong, rather seeing another couple look at Buddy made them forfeit.

Next up…

Rewind and Chromedome.

They do have talks about more sensitive things than Brainstorm and preceptor being slightly more in tune with their emotions than the other pair.

They end up bonding through movie nights and stories.

“No way!”--Buddy

“Yes way!”--Buddy

“Wait, wait, wait! You’re telling me that Prowl and Domey used to be partners?! I mean how?!”--Buddy

“It wasn’t all that bad…”--Chromedome

“What was that Domey?”--Rewind

“Nothing!”--Chromedome

But like the last pair, they saw it better to have Buddy as a close friend or have them see the pair as uncle figures.

Finally Ratchet and Drift.

Buddy eased more with them having spent the most time with them prior to this.

That’s what happens when someone is a bit accidentally prone to bruising and weird unrelated injuries and loves learning about alien culture.

They go well together.

Buddy opens a bit more with them as they also share some advice and stories.

I have something I want to share with you guys…”--Buddy

“We’re here kid. What is it?”--Ratchet

“I…I’m afraid…”—Buddy

Drift raises an optic.

“You’re afraid? Afraid of what?”--Drift

“One day I’ll slip up here and then they ask for me back. I’ll never see you guys again and—and—I’ll be all alone again…”—Buddy

Buddy looks down and shakes a bit trying to hold back the tears.

Drift reaches out first and hugs Buddy close to his spark chamber humming a little tune.

Ratchet makes his way to the two and holds them both.

“You’re not going anywhere kid. You want to know why? Because you’re good at your job and you have help. Do you think any of those scraps for brain peers of your back on Earth could be doing what you’re doing? They’d quit within the first hour.”--Ratchet

Buddy chuckles a bit.

“That and no one will let you go from the ship because of that. You’re stuck with us whether you like it or not.”--Drift

Two weeks are done, and it is time to officially tally everything together, even though it is obvious who won.

Buddy gets sent with the neutral bots to Swerves while they look over the data.

Dratchet wins.

But Ratchet and Drift don’t celebrate their win. They want Buddy’s opinion on this before anything.

It’s their life too, they should have a say in it.

The pair go to break the news when they hear crying and yelling coming from Swerve’s.

Ratchet and Drift are sprinting to Swerve.

They burst through the door to find a bot slightly cowering at a red-faced Buddy.

“--AND IF YOU’RE MINISCULAR PROCESSOR THINKS THAT YOU ARE BETTER THAN DRIFT AND RATCHET YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING! YOU HONESTLY THINK YOUR HOT STUFF!? IF I WAS BIGGER, I’D PLANT MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR AFTERBURNER THAT YOUR DESCENDANT WILL STILL BE TASTING MY TOES! AND ANOTHER THING—"--Buddy

The bot runs out of the bar before Buddy could continue their verbal rampage.

The bar erupts in cheer and praise when the bot leaves.

It wasn’t often to see the little liaison snap and the utter verbal beating, while well earned, was brutal.

That was something to celebrate.

Drift and Ratchet weave their way through the crowd as Buddy is getting passed around.

Drift grabs Buddy hugging them tightly.

“THAT’S MY KID!”--Drift

Buddy looks at him startled.

Ratchet pats their head affectionately.

“You earned that one kiddo.”--Ratchet

Buddy suddenly understands what they are saying and starts bawling on ratchet’s digit hugging them tightly.

The pair is a bit scared but soon realize that they are tears of joy.

They pair relaxes as they enjoy the free drinks and keep Buddy close.

Some day this turned out to be.

[katerinaaqu]

Ismarus! Ismarus! (P3 + Afternote)

Continuation from Part 2 So October 6th had been a special day to me because two very good artists have posted art from the OG works of the epic cycle and were kind enough to consider my help! I am immensely honored! The artists are of course @jacobpking with the amazing odyssey project and @shafeeyaart with the three main couples So I had to finish my fic now as you remember dedicated also to my friend @artsofmetamoor and her amazing art! Followed by my usual notes and afternote!

He shook the helmet so that the stones remaining in it would be mixed better. As one hand reached in and picked one was followed by a yelp of triumph and a disappointed moan from another direction.

“On your face, Nicolaus!” the soldier who obviously got the price he wanted called back to his friend, “She’s mine!”

“Damn you, lucky bastard!” his friend grunted as he saw the other take the woman-prize he had won in the lottery, “I should fucking kill you! Always with that rotten luck of yours!”

“Hey, hey!” Odysseus called out warningly, “Enough with this!”

He was holding these helmets for hours now; making sure that all ships got their share one by one in sharing the spoils and the slaves that were to be taken with them during their trip. Somehow Odysseus had a bad feeling about this; they had started this whole campaign to get provisions; carrying extra load and mouths to feed seemed a bold and counterproductive move. However leaving them behind was also a risky decision. Slaves and gifts could be exchangeable to lands they would encounter if there would be a need for more provisions or hospitality gifts. Although he knew some of his men wouldn’t want to part with them. He remembered Troy again; how they got divided in the 9th year of the fight, over a concubine. He looked over to the sides where the old and the new captives were. Some of them were also his own; working as servants among the troops and taking care of the horses of his chariot. For one second he remembered his long lost youth; he had lain with women before. Servants and some slaves had passed from his bed before that blessed trip to Sparta; some were skilled and willing, one or two were worried and scared of him or his status.

During the war, for one or two moments of desperation and longing he had considered it; to take one of them again. However the very moment they were before his eyes, he felt disgusted with the idea and his weakness for even considering it; ending up sending them away. The slave women that he had taken from his days of fight and plunder seemed empty in his eyes now. It wasn’t the abstinence that made him so restless to go home though. Oh, he wished his wife was here to embrace her and apologize to her for his absence! He wanted to fall in her arms and kiss her like no tomorrow; forget himself in her bosom and cry till he wouldn’t have any more tears to shed; he wanted to beg her for forgiveness for letting war turn him to what he became! He shook his head violently, to lift those thoughts away (and possibly some tears that threatened to burn his eyes) returning to the lottery. The spoils were almost completely done and shared. He sighed.

“Eurylochus, finish this, please…” he said leaving the helmet to the hands of his brother-in-law, “I am tired. I also need to inspect the rest”

“As you wish, sire…”

Odysseus stood at the middle of the men who were admiring the spoils they would get. He looked around the mountains already turning dark by the dusk as the sun had set to the other side of the horizon. There was something ominous about the mountains and they were exposed. They couldn’t seek shelter in the city that was almost burnt to the ground by that moment so they had to camp by the beach and the fact that they had only the sea and the mountain for escape routes was something he didn’t like. The mountain was almost threatening now!

“Alright, men!” he called over the voices of discussions and laughter, making sure all had their ears on him, “We finish the sharing and we set ourselves to go! We are exposed here. You had your fun, now we embark to go!”

“Go?” one of the generals, the one who had complained upon the other man getting a better woman said, “We sailed for five days in a storm and we spent the entire day fighting and now you want us to embark again for the unknown in the middle of the night?”

Odysseus looked at him in disbelief.

“What part of ‘we’re exposed’ don’t you understand?” he yelled back, “We are but a handful of people, we are in a foreign land surrounded by unknown mountains! Anything could attack us at any moment and we will be unable to react! I am not discussing it! We’re leaving!”

“No!” one other general said firmly as he stood up, “We won’t leave! We earned a day of peace! Let us at least sleep in dry land for once!”

“Are you defying my order?” Odysseus’s eyes sparkled warningly

“We cannot follow that order now, sire!” the man stood his ground, “You can’t demand from us to sail so early!”

“You heard what Odysseus said!” Eurylochus came in, “This place is not secure! We will take turns resting out the sea! His judgment hasn’t failed us yet!”

“We can’t travel like this!” the first one spoke again, “You cannot force us to travel in the black night like this!”

The king of Ithaca was fuming. His hands and his entire muscle system were clenched painfully. He was almost ready to grab him and punch some sense into him. He couldn’t indeed transfer his true agony and worry that the location wouldn’t be favorable to them.

“Odysseus…” Eurylochus touched his shoulder whispering, “I understand you. You are right but everyone is exhausted from battle. And we have some more wounded to take care of and better do this on dry land…”

“Dammit!” Odysseus growled in defeat

Yes, he wouldn’t be able to force his men to follow his orders if they refused to move. As he pranced about the camp that was about to be set for a night under the stars he also watched the slaves that would be taken with them; women and children that were free a few hours prior. Their eyes were hateful; resentful. For once moment they looked like Trojans in his eyes. He shook his head trying to lift the thoughts away again.

“Sire” Perimedes spoke, he was in charge of them for that night, “Shall we move them to the ship?”

“No” Odysseus growled in annoyance, “We are supposed to stay here”

One of the tied women laughed loudly. He knew her. She was the wife of the king he had killed in battle. She was dragged out with her children along with the rest of them. Her children were set aside to be shared in the lottery. She, herself, was offered to him as a prize. Initially he had refused insisting that all should go in lottery but his men had insisted. In one way the king of Ithaca dismissed it and kept her. He wouldn’t find much use of her now anyways. She was a handsome woman with long brown locks and big brown eyes. However her beauty was insignificant to him; not to mention that the symbols of her people tattooed on her made him feel even more the danger and the disturbance inside him every time he looked at her direction. And now there was her laughter; laughter full of anger and contempt. Odysseus, with his nerves already tensed he approached and grasped her by the rope that was tying her, pulling her towards him threateningly.

“What’s so funny, huh?” he demanded

The woman spat a few words at her dialect.

“I’ll need a translator here!” Odysseus called to whoever might hear nonchalant

“Oh, I’ll give you a translator!” the woman spat in her heavy accent

“Oh, good” Odysseus said feeling a sense of déjà-vu as he almost repeated the words he had said to her late husband, “You speak our language! I had begun to fear that I need to learn more languages! My Phoenician is kinda rusty and whatever Scythian I picked up at Troy won’t help me with you!”

“Your arrogance will not save you, Greek!” the woman spat at him again, “My people will come like the rain and get you! Your days are over! You and your men shall not survive this!”

Anger boiling inside him, Odysseus grabbed her hair, earning a light yelp from her. He had to try very hard not to feel the fever of battle inside him again. He knelt down and pulled her closer to him, his faces inches apart from hers, eyeing her warningly with his eyes sparkling like the fire that forged the obsidian, the stone that had colored them!

“Listen here, madam!” he whispered dangerously, “If there is something I know best, is to survive! Mark my words on that! I would be more worried about myself than anything else!”

He released her and stood up. He began walking away ignoring whatever comments Perimedes and the rest of his companions would make about her being feisty or whether he had made a good choice for his war prize. That entire dialog disgusted him right now! The woman hissed again before growling a few words and then one more, directed to him. Odysseus winced but he kept going, not looking at her at all. He knew enough Thracian dialect to know what the word she said meant;

Monster

*

The fire was blazing at the beach but this time it was not the city burning to the ground but the multiple cooking blazes that his men had lit up. Odysseus could hear all around the sounds of cattle and sheep being slaughtered and prayers being said and sacrifices being offered. His men had also taken out some of the jugs of wine and were already mixing the red liquid to craters. Some members of his crew who knew how to play music were already setting up the instruments for dance and celebration. Odysseus could see none of that. He was constantly looking around, double-inspecting everything. In fact he refused to remove his gear. After cleaning himself and making a prayer to the gods, he demanded his armor to be placed upon him once more, his chariot inspected, fixed if necessary and ready. He could barely concentrate to his food and drink. He sighed as he sat against the root of a sea tree watching at his men dancing and drinking themselves to their heart’s desire, celebrating as if it was the end of Troy anew. Odysseus grunted and shivered a bit at the cold of the night.

“Fools!” he thought, “Mindless fools! You are getting drunk and celebrating at the footing of the enemy! Gods I wish I could just take my own ship and leave you all behind! But…UGH!”

He sighed to himself passing his hands over his face. What was he thinking?! All of them came to this together and they should leave together! Maybe he was being too paranoid. Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe, just maybe, the Cicones wouldn’t arrive later. Maybe they weren’t so many as he feared. And maybe, just maybe, the queen was only trying to scare him.

“Hey…”

The soft voice of Polites made him literally jump out of his skin for one second. He gasped and then drew a deep breath.

“Polites!” he sighed, “You scared ten lives out of me…”

“Sorry…”

“Never mind, my friend…I am just too distracted”

He sighed gratefully as a fleece was placed upon his shoulders by Polites. He embraced it tightly around his body before double-checking that his spear was there.

“Come sit with us by the fire” Polites suggested, “It has gotten chilly”

“No thank you” Odysseus retorted, blowing some air to his hands, “I need to be here and observe the area”

“You placed guards by the camp remember?”

“Irrelevant!”

He drew a breath and tried to collect himself.

“I don’t like this, Polites…” he whispered, “We should have gone when we had the chance! This is madness! Everyone acts as if we are back in Ithaca with no worry in the world!”

“I understand, Odysseus, but still…”

“We should be on our way home now!” Odysseus insisted stubbornly, “And yet…yet we…”

He sighed and extended his hand to Polites. Polites handed him over his goblet and Odysseus took a gulp of wine in thought before returning it to him. He eyed his men again, celebrating, dancing and oftentimes having their way with the women they had acquired or had brought with them from Troy; some were willing, some coldly accepting their fate, some did not seem so. His mind went back to Cassandra again; the way her body was barely covered by her torn clothes; her face disfigured with tears…the Locrian Ajax seeking shelter to the very same place he did the deed…

“I just hope I am wrong about this…” he whispered, “For the first time in my life I wish I am wrong, Polites!”

Yet another round of deafening silence passed between them. Odysseus wanted to scream; to cry out to his men to at least remain sober that night…but he felt helpless; as if nothing he would say would work even if he tried.

“Go to eat, Polites…” he encouraged his friend, “I’ll be fine, really”

“You sure? I can stay if you want”

“Better not” Odysseus said gloomily, “I want to be alone for a while, Polites. Thanks for the fleece…and the wine. I needed it”

“No problem…” Polites said worriedly.

He didn’t like that shadow over Odysseus’s eyes ever since they took Troy. Ever since he was so affected by their own win he was always jumpy and moody however everything seemed to be turning darker in him ever since the final preparations after the celebrations for taking the city. What had happened in Troy that made Odysseus such? What were they doing deep in the city, away from all other eyes that made Odysseus moan and groan in his sleep almost every night? He didn’t dare to ask. He obeyed the order as he stood and left.

Odysseus was left alone again…alone in his thoughts and dark memories. The fall of Troy…the slaughter of innocents…the baby king thrown off the walls…the contempt and judgment…the rape of Cassandra…the yells and cries of Hecuba and finally the most terrifying of all the darkness falling over the eyes of Polyxena…as he held her wrists down; he felt her pulse erasing and finally Hecuba yelling; screaming and almost plucking his eyes out as she was slowly losing her mind in grief… And now there was the bloodlust and the taking of Ismarus that made them all go loose again… He covered his face with his hands as if that could stop the thoughts emerging.

“Fools!” he thought again in despair, “Don’t you see? We need to go home! We need to go back as soon as possible! We must be free from this curse! From war…”

Somehow he knew that was not true. War and battle was inside them. They almost craved for it now. It almost felt like the only reason he was staying was so to see the next battle happening!

“Woe is me!” he thought, “Woe is us! Fools! At least remain sober! We are exposed to danger! We need to go home! They shall come…!”

And yet he couldn’t leave them behind and go. No, he couldn’t leave them. He was afraid for his life in the case of an attack but he couldn’t leave anyone behind! What king would he be to them unless he stuck around till the end? What leader would it make him if he picked up what he could carry and run by himself? He had tried to keep the kings united in Troy. How could he divide his men now? Fear and desire for return were eating his heart. His mind and legs were telling him to run; to go to his ships, gather those who had some sense to leave and go but his heart was divided. He had made a promise to them; that he would try to see them all to his best abilities come back. He once more looked up the mountains, feeling this primal fear a boar feels when going to the waterfront to drink, while smelling the hounds from afar and yet has no choice but to go or else it would die.

“Father Zeus please let me be wrong about this…let me be wrong…”

As the moves and cries and laughter and dance of his men was almost hypnotizing to him, he made that last prayer…

And he didn’t know what was the thing he wished to be wrong in the most; his fear of the possible incoming counterattack or his almost eagerness to face it?

*

He softly twitched and that shook him awake. Had he fallen asleep? He had tried to remain awake but apparently the fatigue of the battle made him fall asleep before the crack of dawn for he didn’t remember seeing the sun coming up. There was a mist coming from the sea and the sky still had that grayish sheen of dawn. The humidity could pierce the bones and yet that wasn’t his problem. One look at his sleepy, tired eyes and saw his men sleeping at the beach; unmoving in their fatigue and their alcohol-induced sleep. The remains of their feast were scattered about the sand and the soil; cooking fires long now extinguished for there was hardly any smoke coming out of the dead embers. He moaned in pain as his body cracked from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in. His hand searched for his spear that always rested by his side. He had no idea what had stirred him awake in the first place, the same much as he didn’t know how he had fallen asleep in the first place. There was this feeling of uneasiness inside him that wouldn’t leave him alone. The birds in the forest had started their morning song, the sea had started sending soft waves with the low tide; the ships were creaking from where they were tied at the shallow waters. Everything seemed quiet. Perhaps too quiet for his tastes! Like the man who got baked by the constant noise of battle, this easiness was foreign to him now; unnatural. And all of the sudden, as his men were barely stirring awake; he heard a distant base note coming from the forest. It seemed like a distant call of a deer to its potential mate. Odysseus jolted to his feet; bronze spear clasped in his hand for dear life. The sound was heard again. His dizzy mind then came back to actual action like the hunter that came back from a long pause finally realizing the sound’s meaning.

“AMBUUUUUUUUSH!” he yelled on top of his lungs rousing everyone

Not fast enough. Too late.

Terrible battle cries and the deafening stampede of feet running down the mountain blocked all his senses as the horde of the Cicones jumped out of the forest and lashed upon his unsuspected comrades, wielding knives and swords and spears. His defenseless comrades or perhaps those who had more than enough to drink the night before barely had time to react when knives slit their throats from side to side; blood gushing out at the color of ruby, before they had even time to get up. Others barely had time to react; grabbing upon their weapons that lay by their sides.

“GUAAAAARDS!” Odysseus called upon those who were already protecting the camp, “EN GARDE! ENSSEMBLE! THEY MUST GEAR UP!”

He himself rushing upon the scene; naked sword in one hand and spear at the other as the very few and tired men that had their armor on rushed to their comrades’ assistance; those men who clumsily tried to gear up; swords or pieces of armor falling from their hands upon the sand and cordons not able to be tied in time. Odysseus feeling his wits escaping him in fear for their lives and his own he rushed upon the enemies; like a shepherd dog rushing upon the pack of wolves in blind rage and driven by the loyalty for its own masters; out of duty to protect the flock, regardless of the heart that pumped blood faster in its chest in worry and fear.

“HURRY!” He was calling in desperation, “HURRY YOU FOOLS!”

And the sound he feared the most was heard; neighing of horses. All color left his face as the strong Thracian horses emerged and their riders on top released arrows that pierced through flesh like butter.

“No!”  The Man of Many Wiles cried out, “DEFENSE! COME TOGETHER!”

The order was heard but moved slowly as the shields joined together, not enough time to prepare the rest of his men. The arrows arrived bearing fire. Odysseus felt his heart sinking as he knew they barely had time to react; the Cicones had used his own trick against him now. Out of all their cries justified. Odysseus knew enough of their language to know that they were chanting; “ISMARUS! ISMARUS!”

“POLITES!” he roared, “TAKE THE MEN YOU CAN AND GO TO THE SHIPS! SAIL AWAY! NOW!”

“What!?” Polites cried out, “That would make it impossible for you to escape”

“I KNOW!” Odysseus roared, “IF THEY BURN THE SHIPS WE’RE DONE FOR! GO! GET THEM OUT OF RANGE! NOW!”

Polites needn’t hear this twice. Rushing upon the fastest and strongest of the men who hadn’t geared up yet, Polites rushed to the sea and they ran into the waves, soon swimming frantically to the ships and climbing the hulls from the ropes. Polites barked orders to them to release the sails and pull the anchors up echoed across the plane from a distance. Several heads turned towards those who were lucky enough to be slow to gear up and now they were on apparent safety upon the ships that slowly yet steadily moved towards the deep.

“TOGETHER!” Odysseus cried in the meantime, slashing with his sword the leg of a rider passing by him

He had to keep his men together; he hoped their spirits wouldn’t leave them upon seeing the ships abandoning port. They could hear Polites’s orders to the oarsmen, frantically going out of range. One or two arrows pierced the black hulls and the men in rushed upon putting the flames off before the tar on the wood were be set aflame. Odysseus grabbed a slave next to him.

“You! Come with me!”

The two of them rushed upon the chariot waiting and the Man much Enduring forced the horses to trot as his slave would take the reins. Spear and naked sword at hand he rushed upon the enemy, cutting the line of defense. However the Cicones knew his trick and they were prepared. He had time to take the lives but of a few riders before an arrow stroke one of the horses and one the wheel of the chariot. The wounded animal neighed pitifully and the other in panic took the chariot down. The slave got crushed under the heavy weight of the animal and the chariot and Odysseus was thrown off. Head buzzing by the stroke and head feeling set aflame, Odysseus struggled back to his feet. His whole body was in pain and he felt a streak of thick blood running down his temple. He moaned in pain but also feeling grateful the sand had taken most of his fall. He struggled to his uneasy feet; adrenaline hammering against his temples he forced himself to take a step and another and another; blood tickling his brow, getting in his eye. He eyed the battlefield; no, the field of slaughter as the riders would cut through some men like butter as they fell on the sand, painting it red with their blood. He saw the slaves being freed and running for cover in the forests (on occasion falling under the swords of his men or the Cicones in the heat of the battle; for no one could tell friend from foe anymore). The laughter of the woman that was his war prize came to his ears. He looked at her; somehow he had found himself close to her this time too.

“I told you!” she said triumphantly from her kneeling position; arms still tied behind her back, “You and your kin shall not escape this!”

For one moment he saw only red.

He grabbed her by the throat in a bruising grip and his sword dripping dark blood of her companions hovered over her head; ready to claim her life, against the promise he extracted from his men not to harm women or children. She faced his fierce gaze bravely even if her eyes were almost popping out of their sockets in her effort to breathe; blood vessels pumping to her forehead. His hand shook for one second; thirsty to take the blood of the person that was mocking him only to push his lips together in defeat and practically throwing the coughing and struggling for breath woman back onto the sand and running to the central field of action once more, standing before his men that were being circled by the riders and the footmen of the Cicones. He noticed a few men had managed to overthrow some enemies from their horses and now rode as well the best they could to even the odds.

“MEN!” Odysseus roared, “WITH ME!”

Trying to organize the chaos and repel the enemy was not easy but the soldiers who knew nothing but war and violence for a decade did hear the order. As they ran to their best of strength, feet digging the sand below; breaths were hissing at their throats and blood and sweat running down their faces the Cephallinians rushed forward. Odysseus felt once more as if he was floating; as if everything were in slow motion around him. Neighing of horses, screams of men, fire and whistling of arrows, clanging of metal… All became a mass in his brain, his own breath hissing to his ears; his own heart beating fast. However this time it wasn’t triumph he felt; it wasn’t like the slaughter of Troy or the conquest of Ismarus; right now it was a battle for survival…under the eyes of their terrified comrades both on and out of the ships. Some of his men lost heart and ran towards the sea in their need to escape and they were met with arrows coming from the Thracian bows. Odysseus stopped hearing anymore…

Soon he had stopped even to feel…

*

The dusk had come; cold and bloody; the sky matching the sand and fire in color. The beach was quiet once more; this time the quietness was heavier than anything else before for it was weighted down by death; the death of their own. Odysseus was gasping for breath; legs almost unable to hold him anymore. He had felt so only once in Troy, no, now it seemed worse for they were running upon the sand which soon was wet with thick blood. Sweat and crusted blood was covering him. He was half-staggering as he walked upwards at the path to meet his men at the top of the beach; bronze sword falling from his hands; bloody upon the very bloody sand. His comrades had driven the ships back and descended to inspect the damages. The beach was full of dead bodies; horses, warriors and slaves. Gasping for breath always Odysseus scanned the perimeter with liquid eyes full of terror. He looked towards the sea. The waves seemed to be licking the blood off the beach like unworldly tongues; a bloody offering to the god Poseidon and his nymphs; but it was not the blood of the cattle they had slaughtered the night prior; it was human blood now… Fires were still burning around, his chariot was completely destroyed and burning too like an unworldly heath along with the two horses that died upon the bloody sand, still tied to their reins. They had fought all day and somehow they had managed to repel the Cicones; killing several of their men. But at what cost… The Man Much Tormented clenched his hands to the point of his nails breaking the skin. Polites had walked a bit closer but he kept his distance as if he feared for his own life too.

“How many men have we lost?”

His voice was hoarse; whispery…inhuman.

“Odysseus…we…”

“HOW MANY!” his sudden yell made them all jump back

“S-Seventy two…” Polites stammered, “A-About 6 pairs of hands from each ship…without counting the slaves…”

The eyes of their king became bottomless; bottomless like the abyss that had claimed the lives of their companions.

“In one day…” he whispered with voice coming straight out of his wide chest, “…We lost almost as many men…as ten years in Troy…”

He was shaking; from top to bottom in primary anger. In an explosion he kicked a fallen helmet; he didn’t know if it was his or not. Screaming on top of his lungs towards the heavens. That anger he accumulated in battle didn’t seem released till that one moment. All the men surviving once more lowered their heads upon that primary anger; that fury that justified his name Furious or Anger Bringer…the rage they all now saw as justified. As the cry subsided he was left out of breath; gasping anew.

“Cursed Troy! Damn you all! Damn you all who fell by my hands! Cursed life! Cursed war!”

“Gather the dead…” he ordered in a whisper

He didn’t need to yell. Not anymore. His throat was aggravated; now it felt like it came from the depths of Hades itself and yet he didn’t need to yell to be heard. Everyone seemed to be able to hear even his thoughts now. Odysseus mopped his bloody temple with his hand.

“We must offer them a funeral. Each ship will call their own so that we will leave on time…”

“What about the barbarians?” Eurylochus dared to ask

“I don’t bloody, care Eurylochus!” Odysseus snarled at him, “Take their arms for all I care and burn them or bury them in a hole! I don’t care to think of it now!”

Taking one moment to calm himself he realized that he couldn’t leave them there. He didn’t know the customs of the Thracians but he couldn’t leave someone unburied.

“Wait…” he said, “We shall burn them too. Give them a funeral. Then their own will see what will become of them. We shall burn them”

“Yes…burn them! Let this all damn place burn!”

Eurylochus nodded. He knew it wasn’t wise to aggravate him further. The bodies were gathered and cleaned the best they could, they separated enemies from friends and poured their offerings to the dead. The arms were taken off the corpses; sad loot at the end of a battle. Odysseus had taken also a ring and a necklace from the dead body of the Queen; he had found her dead among the corpses. Was she killed in the raid by some of his own or did she end her own life? He didn’t know. She was cut loose from her binds but that was all he knew. He would be a liar if he said he felt sad for her passing. In fact he hardly felt anything anymore for her or any of the other unlucky girls that had also fallen into the battle and the commotion; some of them had survived the war of Troy only to be killed by the swords of the Cicones or their arrows upon their escape or taken by them as loot as well.

“How strange…” the king of Cephallinians thought, “We are all the same at war… Who is the civilized and who the uncivilized! Who is the Greek and who is the barbarian?”

And yet he felt nothing. He was almost numb as the cacophony of the voices were yelling different names towards the skies three times each, for the souls to be led to the afterlife… He hardly felt anything at the smell of burning flesh, so familiar to him now, from the funeral pyres set. He hardly felt the cold water as they entered the sea (also to wash the blood of themselves) and climbed to their hollow ships with anything they managed to salvage (and Odysseus congratulated himself for his prudence to add most of the food in the ships beforehand) from the beach and he barely felt a thing as his commanders barked the orders for their departure. His eyes glued upon the beach where the funeral pyres could still be distinguished against the purple-black of the dusk. Odysseus couldn’t care less if the fires burnt the forest behind or not. He felt Polites behind him once more.

“This was my fault, Polites…” he whispered

“My lord?”

“I was arrogant… What did I think? This is war…there is no side that wins or loses… I was foolish to believe I could get us out of here without any loss…”

“Odysseus…”

He was silenced by the hand of his king that raised itself.

“Can you take the first shift, Polites? I can’t stand anymore… I need to sleep…”

“Of course…” his best friend whispered in return, “You stayed up almost all night yesterday…”

“Thank you…”

Tiredly the king of Ithaca dragged his body to the end of the ship. His shoulders felt heavy…as if 72 more souls had hanged themselves from them; added to the already unbearable load of the lives of Troy….and Ismarus…

**

So here we have the first massive loss Odysseus suffered after Troy! 6 men from every ship perish from the attack of the Cicones.

In the Odyssey Odysseus mentioned how his men began a proper feast during their stay at the foot of Ismarus with slaughtering cattle and drinking wine, so that made me wonder how Odysseus would feel and what he would do. What would be his course of though and for one more time I thought the reoccuring memories of war will be swirling in him as well as the gloomy thoughts of his change. And of course some more violent reactions of his because of his state of mind and all.

The battle was once more inspired by Kapnisis music as I have said before to dear @dionysism this time the song "Μάχη στο Μανιάκι" ("Battle on Maniaki") because I love how the theme re-occures but with a sadder turn:

which again gave me this feeling of helplessness as the Greeks are literally trying to push back the enemy that caught them literally in sleep.

The share of spoils and the stripping of one's enemy are both mentioned in the Iliad as tradition. I also make Odysseus send Polites to defend the ships instead. This is so that for startes Polites is a powerful general in his army but also kinda wanted to show some double-standards on Odysseus part that he wants to get his best friend to a safe distance from the slaughter instead of someone else.

And yup for those who didn't get there yet, the helmet scene was inspired from Lord of the Rings! Hehehehe!

The tradition of clling one's name three times was also mentioned in the Odyssey as a form of a funeral ritual.

Forthe funeral I imagined again the soundtrack to its finale part! ^_^

As always my special thanks to:

@cjbolan @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @superkooku @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @ditoob @tunguszka20 @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @simugeuge @tumblingghosts @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog @loco-bird @greek-mythology-lover @leynaeithnea @freetyphoonglitter

Also a very special thanks and a hug to @ellilyre

**

(Afternote)

“No…ahh…no…gods…Troy…run…no…no!”

He was not fully asleep, he was not fully awake as he was mumbling incoherent things in his disturbed sleep. He was constantly moving about in his sleep, constantly fisting his fleece blanket; sweat plastering his curly hair to his forehead.

“Ahh! No…! Argh…..no! Ismarus….Troy…no… Ismarus…Ismarus…”

His back nearly arched under him.

“No! Argh…no…the fire…knife…the knife…no…! Argh! Troy…Ismarus…no!”

The hand on his shoulder was warm and welcoming.

“ARGH!” he half-threw himself in a sitting position

“Odysseus…what’s wrong…are you alright…?”

It was Polites’s voice. That much he could tell but the dizziness of sleep and dream were still in his brain. He was too foggy to think; swinging between sleep and awake to fully comprehend. Polites saw him struggle, as if, to breathe.

“No…no…” he was mumbling half asleep, “No more…the blood… Ismarus…Troy…”

“Odysseus please!”

There was the scent of metal to his lips; someone had brought a goblet to them. It smelt like wine.

“Please drink this…”

“I don’t want it…” Odysseus mumbled half-asleep still, shaking his head, “No…”

“Please! I beg of you…drink it…” Polites begged, “It will help!”

The ruby liquid touched his lips and he subconsciously swallowed. It felt bitter to his tongue; it almost tasted like blood. Apparently fatigue and the cloud of sleep had not left his brain yet for no sooner had he finished the goblet up and he leaned back, his head once again hanging to the side; surrendering himself to Hypnos’s spell once more, however this time there was no moaning or twitching in his sleep. Apart from a tensed expression between his brows he seemed calm.

“What did you give him?” Eurylochus asked concerned

Polites took out his pouch and showed some dust into it.

“I got this medicine from a Scythian merchant at Troy. He advised me to mix it to wine for better sleep.”

“Are you telling me you are using this?”

“How do you think we sleep after Troy?”

“Good point…” Eurylochus had to agree.

His gaze fell upon his sleeping king. The one that a few moments ago was flapping like a fish out of the water, as if struggling with unspeakable things in his sleep.

“What in all hells of Tartarus happened in Troy…?” he mumbled, “We all have regrets from time to time and dream badly but…not like this! What the hell happened to him to break like this…?”

“I believe he saw the Queen Hecuba lose her mind before him. He didn’t allow anyone else in his tent at that time…” Polites whispered, “It must have been hard…”

“Undoubtedly when Zeus or Dionysus sends upon the illness of the mind it is terrifying but still… Is it just that…? Sure the taking of Troy the way it happened could shake anybody… But this? What on earth happened behind closed doors and away from our understanding?”

“I heard…” Polites mumbled, “I heard that there was a sacrifice involved…”

He made a protective sign with his hand as if the words he was about to utter would be enough to curse them all.

“…A human sacrifice that is…”

The word hovered…longer than it should be; something terrible no one dared to ask.

“But…” Eurylochus managed to utter, mouth agape, “That was…before… I heard goddess Artemis demanded it…”

“No…not that… At Troy…and perhaps, they say, the reason he is like that is exactly because the gods were not involved…”

“Are you saying...?”

“No! Absolutely not! I am sure these are just terrible rumors to hurt our king! They always do come up with those!”

“Are you saying Odysseus is incapable of that…?” Eurylochus challenged

“I-…” Polites hesitated, “I don’t know…but there must be an explanation! There always is…”

They remained silent. They could hear Odysseus’s breathing. On occasion his tongue seemed to chant again and again: Troy…Ismarus…Ismarus…

*

“Odysseus…wake up…”

The warm shaking hand on his shoulder drew him out of the world of sleep. He was drowsy and confused but he could remember where he was. They were sailing home again…that should be the only one that mattered. He had given instructions to his men and they would sail away… And yet why could he smell the rain so intensely to his nose? The sky was gray, dangerously turning black. However he knew he had slept all night. He could hardly understand a thing. He blamed the wine Polites watered him the night before but it was not the time to discuss that.

“Did everyone get to have some hours of sleep…?” was the first thing he asked

“Yes” Polites confirmed, “We all had our shifts”

“And you didn’t wake me up?” the king of Ithaca asked as he was helped back to his feet by his friend.

“No” Polites admitted, “We thought you needed sleep. You had stayed awake all night before”

His king chose not to comment on that for now. Instead he leaned on the parapet of the ship. What he saw alarmed him. The sky was dark and the winds were already howling and there was a drizzle rain. There was the sound of distant thunder from afar and the strong, northern wind was already rising more and more, making his eyes tearful with the bitter cold and the drizzle slowly becoming needles that almost felt like piercing the skin. Polites didn’t need to ask when he saw the horror in his eyes. Neither did Eurylochus.

“Captain…” his brother-in-law started

“Men…” Odysseus whispered, “We must prepare ourselves! A storm might be coming!”

“Oh shit…” Eurylochus mumbled

The sails were already snapping at the wind. Odysseus suddenly saw…the winds were pushing them back…away from the sores they wanted to reach… He knew then they were up for another detour.

“Gods…gods have mercy on me! I want to go home! I just want to go home! I shall repent for my sins! Just let me embrace my wife first!”

He looked up and then he drew a breath. He had to collect himself. Perhaps that would be a minor detour. He would have to endure it. He had to; he couldn’t break now that they were so close. He couldn’t let his 72 men die in vain like that!

“MEN!” He yelled the order, “Secure the sails! Prepare for a storm!”

“And gods help us…let us survive this ordeal and escape this thrall of storm to get back home! Athena…Athena I beg of you…”

He took the ring and chain off his pouch, the ones he removed from the queen and threw them into the sea; a silent prayer and a petty offering so that he could at least hope their ships would survive. He was up for another detour… Ithaca had to wait…somehow he knew… He joined the men and kept barking orders as the sailors; expert now in sea and storms, were already gathering the sails and rowing for dear life. Odysseus grabbed the steer himself, making yet another protective sign with his hand, one last prayer to the gods. And yet he could swear that the winds that howled in his ears, making the raindrops whip his face like tiny needles were chanting again and again.

Troy…Troy…Ismarus… Ismarus!

[kybelles]

egeria lives au where she meets laurent at the beginning of kings rising

read on ao3

~

The first thing he notices is how youthful she looks.

If he has his numbers right (and he does, he does) she should be close to sixty. Yet, lounging on her divan while two bulky male slaves fan her with giant leaves, Queen Egeria doesn’t look a day older than forty.

She is also one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen.

Her emotionless hazel eyes follow him like a cat as he comes closer. She doesn’t look like a woman who was held captive by Kastor and only recently got rescued by Nikandros at all. Inside her regal purple dress and with golden laurels in her hair, she looks every bit like the queen she is.

When he stands right in front of her, Laurent bows his head just the appropriate amount. From a prince to a queen. “Madam,” he says. “I was advised to come and greet you.”

The words are spoken in Veretian and he doesn’t use the correct title for queen in Akielon either. His words also imply he wouldn’t appear before her if it wasn’t for the insistence of his advisors.

He is the perfect picture of insolence. And what’s the point of impressing Egeria of Akielos now, anyway? Laurent has already burned down that ship. Burned and spread the ashes to the wind.

The queen’s catlike gaze doesn’t waver. Slowly, she looks at him from head to toe. “Laurent of Vere,” she says in a perfectly clear Akielon. “We heard you kept our son as a slave. That you beat him, whipped him, humiliated him in numerous ways.”

An icy shiver runs down on Laurent’s spine but his face remains neutral. As always. “I’m not sure what madam wants me to say. Would you like me to give you a detailed narrative?”

Rather than getting irritated, Egeria of Akielos slowly smiles. Laurent’s hand subtly clenches into a fist behind him when he sees a familiar dimple on her cheek.

“A sharp tongue,” she says in a terribly soft voice. “A vicious persona and a face that looks like it was carved by angels. No wonder my son was besotted with you.”

The implication that Damen was only interested in him because Laurent happened to match his tastes is so infuriating, so hurtful that it renders Laurent speechless. Egeria doesn’t seem bothered by his silence.

“I bet you wanted revenge for what happened,” she continues in the same softness. Her pronouns have changed from we to I. From queen to mother. “I bet you thought your treatment of him was justified. You thought he deserved it. You enjoyed making him miserable and watching him suffer. Men like you always find pleasantries in the most honorless practices.”

Men like him.

Men like his uncle. Men like Kastor.

His voice is nothing but a deadly whisper. “He killed my brother.”

“Princely blood, shed at war.” Egeria takes a small sip from her goblet. “If you had a shred of my son’s dignity, you would have faced him fairly, prince to prince.”

Something finally snaps in Laurent as a smile spreads on his face. “But Damianos wasn’t sent to me as a prince, was he?” he says, his soft tone matching Egeria’s. “He was kept in a cage like a wild animal, flung at my feet like he was the lowest creature ever existed… By your stepson, in case madam needs a reminder. I wonder what she was doing while her son was slowly surrendered by traitors.”

For a moment, he thinks he has won. Egeria’s fingers that are wrapped around her goblet tighten for a few painful seconds before she chuckles, waving him away as if he’s merely a misbehaving boy.

The treatment is so familiar that his mouth fills with bitter poison.

“We have no interest in explaining ourself to you.” she speaks serenely, her beautiful chin raised pridefully. “Dire circumstances force us to keep up this grotesque misalliance with Vere but beyond that, we don’t wish to endure your company more than it is necessary. Know that and act accordingly.”

Suddenly, Laurent is hit with the most unwelcome urge to cry. Even after the recent events, he can’t remember the last time he felt this small and insignificant.

His wounded shoulder throbs. His trampled pride gets another brunt, even though he didn’t think it was possible.

He recalls a few brief anecdotes Damen has told about his loving, fierce lioness of a mother. Desperately, even though he knows he has no right, he aches to see a glimpse of her, instead of this woman who looks at him with such great contempt.

“Madam doesn’t need to worry.” he finally says. “After the war is done, I shall go back to my country and I doubt we’ll ever encounter each other again.”

“After the war is done, you may go to hell for all we care.” Egeria says boldly. “Now, leave.”

[fareehaandspaniards]

My personal list of fictional girls

ALL OF A SUDDEN I decided to make a post about fictional girls I SIMP for. That's what long work shifts do with me and also Katy's post about mole on Gwynevere's chest beautiful details of Gwynevere's body

I mostly talk in my blog about men but actually there are some female characters I extremely love, simp, imagine and some even shipped with myself. They all, in general, attract me very much and deserve a lot of attention

Dagger and (!) general Beatrix from Final Fantasy 9

I'll put them together because I met both of them as a child. And if Beatrix is my unattainable ideal and favorite character, then Dagger is a character I associate myself with and my personal love that I'm ready to defend against all the haters and fools who call her a “standard female character”. She went through huge character changes, trauma, and all the stages of love in her youth. She truly was my role model when I was a child. Also, because of Dagger, I was jumping around the house with a cook pot impersonating her with a weapon XD

She was the reason I cut my hair with a knife when I was 6 years old XD My mom was horrified! I liked the new haircut but it looked awful xDDDDDDD

And I also inherited this... xDD

2. Lute from Fire Emblem Sacred Stones

Bold, smart, arrogant sometimes, a prodigy and in my personal opinion, autistic girl.

Despite the fact that she has very few lines and the plot in general, she won my young heart, and I dreamed of such a friend… As a teenager I remembered her, but in a more romantic way already…. xd Her demeanor and conversation has annoyed many players, but I find her attractive and unique - she's confident and knows she's good!

3. Jade Harley from Homestuck

My first REAL crush on a fictional character. I imagined her with me and even had a few erotic dreams with her…. It was very sad, because I literally suffered from the fact that she didn't exist, and I used up a lot of ink from my dad's printer to print a LOT of posters with her xdddd

I can't say Jade is controversial character? LOL I don't even remember Homestuck plot. But she is kind and funny character, optimistic and full of will to live. She is a witch of space after all xd She is JUST GOOD in my mind. To many years passed... xd

And while I'm no longer interested in Homestuck, Jade is still my favorite archetype.

4. Edelgard von Hresvelg from Fire Emblem Three Houses

When I saw the first preview of FE3H I knew she was going to be my favorite. Her looks, her ideology, her cold disposition, her tender heart, and her many traumas - she's beautiful. And despite the fact that Edelgard has a VERY large amount of haters, to me it just proves once again the great fandom hypocrisy! Everyone really wants a tough woman, independent, strong and making mistakes, cruel, implacable and willful, war criminal and all that stuff. But once they get strong woman, she becomes hated! After all, she's up against a muscular and very handsome young man with absolutely KIND and GOOD intentions, and all the bad things he does are for KIND purposes.

And Edelgard is very controversial. Even gray, I might say. My girl did the thing she finds right and chose the bloody path, but I'd go with her all the way to the end because she's my empress and that's it xd Love her

5. Rom from Bloodborne

I was a little mad at her at first…? When I first started playing Bloodborne. As is often the case with me, my first impression 90% of the time is later reversed. Many headcanoned her as Willem's helpless victim and a “background” for Micolash, and that headcanon spoiled the experience for me in many ways. But by creating my own vision of Rom, I fell in love! She can be crazy, proactive, determined, cunning, manipulative, comical, tragic…. Of course, it's all about interpretation and image. But I fell in love with Rom in all her forms.

6. Ruby from Disco Elysium

She only shows up for one scene, but…. SHE MADE ME BLUSH. LOOK AT HER.

I can hear the soundtracks from Hotline Miami and the police sirens... Her game portrait doesn't idealize her looks, no, you can see her age and wrinkles, and also…. her danger. It gives me goosebumps... I don't know why, but the portraits in Disco Elysium fascinate me. They manage to convey the character's personality and traits with color and strokes of paint behind their backs…

Actually this game created in my opinion the MOST perfect female characters I've seen. They are gorgeous in their own way, they look like REAL women.

I'm in love with Ruby. And even want to do a cosplay on her in the future….

7. Gwynevere from Dark souls!

Goddess of love, fertility, a gorgeous and big woman, with beautiful breasts, smiling, bright…. That's my kink. I have been fascinated with the history of ancient nations for a very long time. And the images of ancient goddesses have forever remained in my head something chthonically beautiful, a kind of female ideal. Gwynevere reminds me of them. I have an OC as well, personifying all the same things, only more cunning…. Beautiful lady…

8. Nyx from Hades!

Nyx is a very special goddess to me. It's very personal… I've studied her image a lot. And Hades definitely managed to convey her as she should be. A mother, a friend, a caregiver and her thin veil of darkness...

[siobhanhazel]

Masterlist (Harry Potter fics)

SiobhanHazel @ AO3

SNARRY: COMPLETED

Our Forever Home || [E] 20k words 7th Year Severus Snape ♡ Professor Potter feat. time travel

Between These Walls || [E] 40k words Severus wakes up in the hospital next to Harry, who he soon realises is struggling with depression. They both learn what it means to be in a relationship for the first time. Kintsugi || [G] 2.5k words “Magic is not material. It is paradoxical. Almost spiritual.” Only Harry's magic can save Snape. Written in Japanese and translated to English (so the style is a bit different from my usual fics).

DRARRY: COMPLETED

The Risk of Falling || [T] 19.7k words Draco-centric coming out fic i wish that i could wear hats || [T] 4.5k words Humorous songfic for brian david gilbert’s song

WOLFSTAR: COMPLETED

Sweets and Meat & Sweet Relief || [T & E] 8.2k words Marauders Era, anxiety, hurt/comfort, realising feelings Seeing Other People || [E] 8.8k words Marauders Era getting-together songfic for Belle and Sebastian’s song Summer Sweating in a One-Room Flat || [E] 4.0k words Muggle AU smut short with Japanese Sirius and travelling Brit Remus Whines, Knocks, Shouts || [E] 3.6k words Humorous smut for Animagi Week 2024

F/F SAPPHIC MISC: COMPLETED

Striking a Spark || [T] 8.4k words Minerva McGonagall/Lily Evans Potter ー Thanks to sophisticated time travel methods, de-aged nineteen-year-old Minerva finds herself at a bar, revelling in the spontaneity of youth with her former students; Lily Evans and her friends. Perfectionism || [T] 2.6k words Minerva McGonagall/Eileen Prince ー Hogwarts Seventh Year, sweet girlfriends Hanami (Cherry Blossoms) || [G] 500 words Minerva McGonagall/Eileen Prince ー More sweet girlfriends, for Animagi Week 2024

M/M MISC: COMPLETED

Aurum et Ossa: Hallowe'en || [E] 2k words Viktor Krum/Scorpius Malfoy ー His ghost-grey eyes meet Viktor’s—time to let him catch another glimpse. Scorpius has been scattering teases all evening like droplets of freshly pricked blood dappling a trail. (Launch of the rare pair Vikorpius ship!) Jupiter and Virtus || [G] 2k words Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter ー Magical AU. An offbeat short fic about growing up and the crushes along the way. Burn the Dark Away [G] 500 words Remus Lupin/Severus Snape ー Cathartic, somewhat angsty moment for Remus and Severus after the war is all over. After Dawn Delight || [E] 1.8k words Viktor Krum/Percy Weasley ー Percy wishes Viktor would eat a proper meal, but unfortunately, Viktor distracts him from cooking breakfast. Tranquillitas || [E] 2k words James Potter/Severus Snape ー in 7th year, struggling with pressures of his own, James Potter finds himself making an unexpected peace offering. Hurt/comfort. Lightning Strike, Loving Squeeze || [G] 3.5k words Harry Potter/Ron Weasley ー Auror Ron discovers his animagi and his feelings for Harry Fluffy Snuggles || [G] 2.1k words Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter ー Pure fluff in an AU with an interesting animagi Fiery Sniffles || [G] 2.1k words Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter ー Fluff sequel to “Fluffy Snuggles” Nibbles || [G] 1.1k words Sirius Black/Severus Snape ー Snogging and antics in Grimmauld’s potion lab Lost & Won || [T] 1.4k words Sirius Black/James Potter ー Marauders Era Seventh Year, a romp in the Forbidden Forest

[thewingedwolf]

like a quarter of the way through a clash of kings, this is just some random assortment of thoughts, pls remember that i do not remember jack shit about what happens later so no one can judge me if i wonder if a theme will hold throughout the series okay.

davos seaworth

i don’t have anything intelligent to say beyond that i love this man so much. can’t wait for him to completely crash into the northern storyline in the books. i highlighted this line from him because i loved it so much, because i love when peasantry get one over the lords: in time, my little black ship will fly as high as Velaryon’s seahorse or Celtigar’s red crabs.

i do love his chapters for a similar reason to arya’s - we get a glimpse of what the low born in this universe deal with. davos thinks a lot about his life before stannis & the way he’s treated in comparison to the other lords. he’s always keenly aware of how precarious his situation is & it not only gives him the unique ability to give stannis honest advice, it makes him more astute than a lot of the men around him.

tyrion i - iii

first of all, i love putting tyrion on like 2x the speed to get through his chapters quicker lmao

second - there’s just such a dissonance between his very clear headed way of understanding the precarious social roles of sex workers & the way he looks at shae (and tysha, since he still thinks she’s a sex worker atp). he can recognize, mourn, and attempt to get some semblance of justice for the woman and her baby that cersei has ordered murdered, and even when he’s being kind to slynt to put him at ease, there’s an undercurrent of disgust there at how callously slynt thinks about the young woman he had murdered. and yet, just moments later, he thinks about how he’s given shae a pretty house with pretty guards and pretty things, but when she makes moves to become closer to him emotionally, he thoroughly puts her back in her place as a low born sex worker. there’s a line at the very end of his chapter where he says “he wanted to laugh, he wanted to weep, most of all, he wanted shae” and it just boggles my mind that he can yearn for love, sensuality, & understanding so keenly, but can’t extend his belief that Women Are People Too to the woman who shares his bed, then descends into a “maybe all women are bitches, actually” as he continues down his path.

catelyn i

interesting how quickly robb turns on catelyn. he was a bit more amenable to listening to her in agot, but the moment he feels he’s “a man grown” he stops listening to her almost immediately and completely. part of it is youth, part of it is, ya know, the general violent patriarchy of westeros eating at his brain, and both of these imo combine to make this storm of extreme resentment towards cat, something she clocks almost immediately. “kings don’t have mothers” is how she puts its. i think atp she’s gotten the idea that he resents her calls for peace bc it makes him feel like he’s being brash & dismisses her on the word of the men around him - that she has a “woman’s heart” and is too gentle to understand how wars are won.

but imo he seems equally resentful that she’s right to chastise him at almost every turn. she’s right to think theon will turn, balon can’t be counted on, cersei will find his terms insulting, the lannisters would only trade sansa for jaime, rickard’s anger & grief will become a problem, the river lords shouldn’t have been sent home, he should have acted quicker in trading jaime, and she’s going to continue being correct! Catelyn is intelligent, she was raised as Hoster’s heir apparent for most of her childhoodl. She is a well of knowledge that Robb refuses to tap into because she will not tell him what he wants to hear. This might have been something he outgrew as he got older tbf; plenty of 15 year old boys are resentful of their mothers telling them they are wrong. But those other 15 year old boys aren’t kings waging wars, and they get the benefit of failing and learning better. Robb, uh, does not 💀💀

theon i

where’s that “theon gets so bold for being a misogynist” post, it’s always what i’m thinking about. he’s so mean to that poor sailor’s daughter even as he’s projecting his own daddy issues onto her, but in his projection of “all fathers are cruel to their children, that’s just life” he doesn’t offer her sympathy, he tells her to get over it. partially general lordly “you’re a peasant woman and i’ll use you how i like” but also clearly theon’s own issues with father figures & masculinity.

also theon has “a certain affection” for robb, okay you lying bitch lmao just a lil bit of feeling right, you basically don’t care at all about robb, he’s just a dumb kid. smh. also interesting how he asks after his mother & sister first, and how dismissive he is of balon, how he remembers nothing positive of his brothers. he walks onto Pyke clearly trying to emulate them yet well aware they are not men worthy of emulating.

dany i

idek what to say about dany lmao. i sort of wish she’d spent more time with the dothraki & more time focusing on her khalasar bc that’s the only culture she ever really accepts & wants to be part of. it kind of makes sense with her personality - i think there is something appealing to a girl who has been abused by a brother who is clearly less intelligent & less capable than she is, in a people who literally wear their capability in their hair. but grrm clearly isn’t interested in fleshing out the dothraki lmao and we move on from the dothraki sea quickly.

the other thing that sticks out to me is her relationship with jorah. it means something very different to her than it does to him & it’s just now that she’s started to realize that, but she still believes she can reconcile those two things for him. she doesn’t desire him, but she does love him, and she believes that giving him a gentle, happy ending to his story & giving him love as his queen will be enough for jorah. such a sweet little girl way of thinking about him, and it really reminds me how young she is at this time, which makes his whole existence so much worse.

arya & sansa

my main thoughts on arya are just how horrifically the war has spread to the small folk. so many of these chapters are arya’s pov; tyrion, robb, & cat are all involved in the politics but arya is right there witnessing what the cost of the war is. the scene with the woman who keeps saying please and her toddler in particular were really unsettling.

i think there’s also a lot of emphasis on how helpless sansa & arya are in their circumstances & how often they try to steal just a bit of agency. arya is always reaching out for some sort of emotional link - to yoren, when she’s scared by the wolves, to gendry, to hot pie, to jaquen. trying to find something to anchor her amongst her life spiraling out of control. sansa, meanwhile, asserts her independence at every turn - reaching out to tommen & myrcella when Joff clearly dislikes them, making smart comments even knowing joffrey will beat her for it, saving ser dontos, all to remind herself that she is still a person with a moral compass, still worthy of dignity. it’s depressing lol, they’re both really going thru it right now.

bran

bran’s chapters are a breather between everyone’s doom & gloom and jon being so involved in Important Plot Things rn. he’s such a sweet boy, willing to take criticism from Maester Luwin, doing his duty as a prince even as he’s struggling with how his life has been transformed by his disability. he’s kind and serious about dealing with manderly & hornwood, and he quickly realizes both that lady hornwood is lonely & in need of a husband to protect her claim, while also that her seat needs an heir & lord hornwood had a bastard - he thinks of jon, of how smart & skilled jon is, and thinks about giving the seat to a bastard. hes also funnier lmao - like the comment about how the marriage bed always involves a man sleeping on top of his wife aksjsjs. such an 8 year old thing to think.

there’s also more of bran’s selective amnesia - the moment the lannisters are mentioned, he starts having trouble breathing & has another green dream. something to be said - and none of it is good - about how closely intertwined bran’s trauma is with his abilities. i don’t want him to come back as an empty shell

(even though i maintains that he wasn’t an empty shell. but was that just the actor making decisions or did d&d just badly adapt something more complicated or completely axe a chunk of bran’s arc, i mean it’s clear they didn’t like him, they cut him out of a full season lmao. and i mean. look at my username. LOOK AT IT. this is my header on twitter and it’s been my header for a long time!!!!:

i love him, and if his ending is sad i’m going to lose my mind and i’m sure if it’s tragic, grrm will write it beautifully and i’ll just cope by reading fanfiction and changing my icon to him forever in mourning. but so far, the show and a lot of theories just make me wanna die aksjdj so every time there’s a vague implication of More Bad Things happening with bran, i’m getting paranoid).

but there’s a clear conflation between bran being traumatized and bran’s abilities, at least in the beginning.

varys

he gets his own bc he’s in tyrion’s chapters all the time but i am ALWAYS wondering what is the truth and what is a lie with this man lmao. he seems sincere in thinking that robert’s bastard & the mother would have been safe but surely he would realize that when lannisters are involved, babies are fair game bc of his Ditchwater Prince, right?? did he just underestimate cersei’s cruelty or did he just not care? did he figure gendry would be more useful in the future, if he needed one of robert’s bastards to get one up over Cersei? or did he simply not act fast enough? - because we know from arya that Varys hadn’t wanted the Lannisters & Starks to start fighting as quickly as they did, so did he simply not have the time bc Joff’s cruelty & Littlefucker’s scheming took him by surprise? Or is he framing it this way because he knows if he’s just like “yeah i didn’t care about the baby dying” he knows it would offend tyrion?? TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW VARYS.

[coachtfd]

You are so in love with Ten Hag you are physically unable to accept he was way below average at United. Will you even celebrate if we are getting back to winning ways under a competent manager? Not sure about that. You claim to be knowledgeable in football but every single one of your predictions for this season was nonsense. You said things are finally looking up but we just repeated our worst ever start in the prem. Thank fuck the board had some common fucking sense and they didn’t hesitate to kick this idiot out of the club. We are literal actual relegation fodder at the moment and this is 100% Ten Hag’s fault.

I don’t claim anything, I am knowledgeable about football, thank you. Doesn’t mean I’m always right or that I can control what anyone does. Things were looking up: we won silverware in back-to-back to seasons, we beat City to do it last season, our young players were developing, the age of our squad was coming down, and we were moving players on again. Not every one of my predictions were wrong because after seeing us in preseason I said that we would have a rough start and have we ever. But he’s found a way to recover from a poor start before, so I wasn’t panicking, I expected this.

You love to accuse me of being so in love with Ten Hag that I see no other alternative, but you’re wrong. I was always keeping an eye out for plan B because I know it can always go the other way. You clearly missed it months ago when I said I’d take Xavi if Ten Hag didn’t last. If it were up to me, I actually would’ve brought him in to help with the technical development of our youth teams. He gets to work at a big club without the pressure that comes with it, we could produce Ten Hag-ready players, saving us money on transfers and freeing up funds to bring our debt back down, which has to be a priority.

I stand by my assessments and I believe that if we could’ve gotten through this season they would’ve begun to turn a corner. I was starting to see things I saw when we finished third, but we’re dealing with new and/or less experienced players and it’s going to take time to fully gel. The players that were here before him did little to help steady the ship when things got hard, which is what we’ve come to expect from them over the years, and their lack of resilience spreads throughout the team like a cancer. If it makes people feel better, they can say we’re in this position solely because of Ten Hag but it’s not just him. As I’ve said before, this is what 10+ years of mismanagement does to a club and we’re looking good to hit 20 at this rate.

Eventually, they’re going to prioritize spending on the new stadium over developing the squad so Ratcliffe can put his name on it before he passes one day. I’ve seen how that sets a club back years, look at Arsenal and Spurs. Now was the time to stick with a manager and build a completely new team around him so we didn’t have to worry about the squad when that time came but we just blew it. You’ve won the battle, congratulations. I was thinking about the war.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Hey Peahen mom,

Can you write a Christmas type of short drabble but in involves a special moment? Maybe one between Jaron and Melinda please? I love these two and the others so much. <3

((Hi there and good morning. Hope your doing alright today. I think I can write something pretty short or close to it depending but sure. And I'm glad you love them as the others too. As I said, me and my friend makes too cute ships. But here ya go. And to say, this special moment is a bit earlier. The others are a bit more older in this and the kids are not born yet in this short drabble.))

((Oh and the devil royals and young adults au along with Jaron and the other fractions belong to my amazing friend @demon-blood-youths ))

Silver butterfly mun/Peahen mom

This Christmas was pretty lively this year as the fractions were having a giant party together with snow coming down during this night. The DBT was the main planners while having their friends and everyone else all together this year again.

Ink was happily eating some holiday pudding made by Jaron and Melinda while seeing her friends talking and hanging out. Some with their lovers, some with friends, or some laughing and playing some games together. Even her six claws were there happily eating and sitting with Ink too enjoy this holiday. They did bring gifts for everyone which was under the giant tree.

"Oh come on! I know I won that!" Rust shouted but Breezy laughed winning another game or payback win since he did beat her a few times.

"All is fair in love and war Rust!" she winks but he looks to her to laugh.

"Oh your not getting out of this! I want a rematch!" he joked as she grins smiling.

"Your on!"

"You two really are at this like crazy. Your now even tied." Winter said holding some ginger ale while seeing Fin agree while eating some snacks.

"What can I say? She knows how to bring a storm fighting me in video games." he said but Breezy snickered to grab him and ruffle his hair.

"And your no better!" she laughed.

Some others were enjoying the party while Vivi was drinking some hot chocolate with some whip cream beside Shdwkyz who was eating some holiday cookies which were home made. The two were seeing the others having fun, even seeing Gerald and Timmy playing a board game with Ping and Taz who was having some holiday bows in their hair.

"I wonder if we should make snow blowers next year...that would be sick!!" Yuuka heard Navarro from doing some work on this holiday later on but Echo was walking over with some food and looks seeing this. Shaking her head, she goes and set Navarro's plate down.

"And your already making plans on your next project. You do know we have something better later on right?" she joked even when he rubs the back of his head. "I know, I know.."

The leaders were happy even some like Rex sitting by Kali eating some cake, Joshua and Ashley were watching a holiday movie together with some others. Yeah, everyone was having fun and it was a good party. However, this was also going to be a remembering Christmas.

~~~In the Kitchen~~~

"Jaron are you sure your going to be alright? You been a little distracted in here." He blinks to look up hearing someone speak, turning to see Ethan coming in with a plate. The jackal has been in the kitchen but he's been a little quiet.

"Sorry but I'm good. Just trying to do something for later. Or to say, I have a present for Melinda later." he said.

"Ah, I see. I'm sure whatever it is, she'll love it. You always told me she loves the gifts you given her every year during Christmas even when it comes to you getting her something." He saw Jaron sigh but he knew it was true.

"I know...I always love to get her something and even show we gotten more close now. She means the world to me.." he said.

"I know she does. It's always that one special someone that makes you wish to keep them safe, keep them protected, and love them no matter what." He said thinking about his girlfriend Willow who was sitting in the living room wearing a gift Ethan gave her last year but she cherished it for a good while. Smiling a bit, he thinks of that then looks to Jaron.

"I know whatever gift you give her this year she'll love it."

"....Right, thank you Ethan." he said seeing him nod but turns to head back to the others and Willow. Jaron remains quiet but he did have a present but he wanted to make it special. He will be sure it will be this Christmas eve. He did look seeing Melinda happily serving some cupcakes now while wearing a festive shirt and having a bow in her black hair. She always looked so happy even from growing up. She really was someone he cherishes in his life.

"........." Sighing, he looks up but sees the snow from the window in the kitchen. 'I can do this.....I can do this.' he thought but would give her present a bit early.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Melinda was smiling as she saw everyone happily enjoying the food and sweets Jaron and her made, they must have loved it they were already asking for seconds! Giggling, it did her heart good knowing this was another wonderful Christmas.

"Hey Melinda?"

She blinks to turn around but looks seeing Jaron there. He was seeing her smile and it made him happy. "Hey Jaron what's wrong?" she asked but he rubs the back of his head.

"Nothing's wrong. I was wondering....I wanted to...talk to you about something." He mutters but Melinda blinks to look at him. Talk to her about something?

"Hmm? Well, sure. Did you want to talk somewhere private or?" she looks seeing him look back at her.

"We can talk in the other room. It's just....this is something really important." he said but this got Melinda really wondering what is happening. Agreeing, she follows him to the other room but a few of the fractions noticed this. Now where were they going?

In the other living room, Jaron was leading the way but Melinda follows him still wondering on what he wanted to talk about. It had to be important if he wished to speak in private. In a while, they got to the other room seeing the window showing the snow outside with some Christmas lights flashing different colors.

Jaron stops but looks to the room but Melinda blinks to look at him worried. It was time.

"Jaron?" he heard her ask sounding worried but he sighed to turn to face her.

"Is something wrong?"

"No no nothing is wrong I Just..I wanted to say something." he said but she blinks to look at him. He steps closer but gently takes her hands to look at her, seeing her silver eyes look at him even if she was confused.

"You know me and you been together for a long time right?" he asked seeing her nod. "Though, I still remember the first day we met even if I wish it was under a better situation." he looks to her remembering. "Though, it was almost like it was meant to happen. From that day, we grew to know one another and I was happy that I could help you because I don't want to think what would have happened if we never did.." he feared at times if he and her never met, she would still be on the run or worse caught and turned into something worse.

"Over time, I wanted to be there to insure you were happy. Even after some bad moments seeing you get hurt and...almost killed. It hurt seeing how badly you were in pain but...you were saved.."

".......I remember. It was because you gave me your blood to save my life....and help me stay alive to the others helping me become who I am today. Having a new family and friends." She remembers from being part of Jinx's team and seeing new friends in New York. Yeah, she still cherished those memories and hopes to make more.

"Yeah, because nothing makes me more happier than seeing you living your life. We grew closer after that true when it came to good moments and bad ones. Depending on one another just like with our fractions." he said thinking about it but Melinda blinks knowing that.

~~~~Meanwhile~~~~~

While he was having this moment, a few others were listening in or some wondering what is going on. "What are you two doing?" Vivi asked seeing a few of the guys listening in on the conversation.

"Jaron is speaking with Melinda about something. You think it's something serious?" Fin asked trying to hear in more.

"Maybe. I bet it's a sweet moment!" Breezy said. "Do you think he might-"

"We don't know..I bet it could be.." Rust said.

"Oh no.." Vivi saw they were making another bet even during this! Shdwkyz comes over to wonder.

"What are you guys doing?"

"Their making another bet to see what Jaron is saying to Melinda." Vivi explains that Shdwkyz sweatdrops to look at them. "Seriously? Again? Can't you guys just stop with these bets?" he said but he was hushed by them to keep listening making Shdwkyz's left eye twitch. Vivi shook her head but held his hand to calm him down.

~~~~~In the other room~~~~~

"...I know and I remember that to but....." she blinks to look at him confused. "Jaron, what is this all about? Are you trying to tell me something?" she asked.

"....I am.....it's sorta nervous like for me to even ask..or say this.." he said that Melinda was worried more.

"Jaron? Are you upset with me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Huh? No no! You did nothing wrong. I just......*sighs* I wanna say something to you so please hear me out." he said but he looks to her as the snow keeps falling down outside. He just gazes upon her but reaches to hold her cheek.

"Melinda, I'm so happy that I've met you in my life. We have gotten so much closer now that I am so happy that your here with me. Being able to see you smile and being happy means the world to me. But it's better because you gotten through it. Even after all the things you went through, you were still able to get back up. I cherish every moment we had together in the past to now to hanging out, and being together. You mean the whole world to me. And I'm so happy for it.."

"......."

"Though now...I'm...hoping you will still be with me." he said.

"You..You silly jackal. I'll always be with you. Nothing is going to change that." she said pouting but Jaron smiled still holding her cheek.

"I know..but that's not what I mean." he said now making her confused.

"I..I don't understand." she said.

"I know..but I think this might." he said looking to her. "Melinda, we had a lot of crazy adventures together and we still will from here on out..though...I really hope you will just tell me one thing." as he looks to her, he saw his three familiars even the baby jackal show up around them but she saw them wagging their tails and the baby yipping happily.

"Jaron? What is this? What are you-" she laughed started to say but looks to him as he backed up just slightly to the baby jackal hovering over but he drops something in Jaron's hand as he held it from her.

"I know it seems weird but....I'm just trying to think of a proper way to do this."

"To do..what?" she asked. To get her answer, Jaron sighed but gets on one knee in front of her that Melinda's silver eyes look but widen slightly as she held her hands up to her heart. Wait, what was he doing?

"J..Jaron?"

"I know I mean this from the bottom of my heart...but I hope to hear the answer I wish from you." He said showing his hand seeing a black box and slowly opens it showing a engagement ring inside. A silver band with a cute diamond as smaller ones show silver gems too.

"Will you give me the honor of being by my side and partner forever? Will you let me share my love for you as you have with me as we both grow up together?" he asked. "Will you...." Taking a deep breath he said,

"Melinda Brooks, will you marry me?"

Melinda was speechless, he was asking her to marry him! Even on Christmas Eve!!!! She didn't know what to say but tears were slowly forming from her eyes as she covers her mouth shaking where she stood. Jaron looks to her seeing the tears but he wonders if it was too soon?

"........"

"Melinda?" he asked looking at her but Melinda only lowers her hand but she was still crying to look at him. "I'm sorry if this is too soon. I figured I.." As he said this, she quickly rushes to tackle him and hug him. He held her but she was sobbing softly.

"Melinda?" he was petting her head but she only held him tight not letting go. But he did hear something from her moments after.

"Y....Yes..."

He blinks to look at her but he saw her tears still coming down, her lips were in a light smile as she was blushing. "Huh?"

"Y..Yes..Yes, Jaron Jackal I'll marry you. I'll marry you!" she said crying more that his own eyes widen hearing this. She said yes..she said yes! Being happy he smiled to gently see her sit up as he did, carefully taking her hand to get the engagement ring out. He side the ring on her ring finger as he held it. But she looks at it then looks to him that she tackles him again to kiss him deeply on the lips while they shut their eyes.

However in that moment....

"GUYS HE DID IT! HE FINALLY PROPOSED TO HER! I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT!" Breezy screams excited that everyone heard.

"Wait, he did what!?" Ink said as the six claws were shocked.

"FINALLY!!" Rust and Navarro said knowing he would do it! The girls were happy that they were excited but that's when the door opens to show Jaron walking out with Melinda as the two blinks hearing this.

"Uhhhh guys? What are you-" That's when the boys got to Jaron congratulating him.

"Finally! You finally did it! HA! We win the bet Guam and Fin!" Navarro laughed seeing Rust laughing. The two blinks but Kali sighed shaking her head.

"YEAH, HE DID IT!!" Navarro said but that's when he got smacked on the head with something and Rust too.

"OWW!"

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU IDIOTS ABOUT MAKING FUCKING BETS!?" Shdwkyz said as the two ran from him shouting.

"STOP CHASING US DAMN IT!!" Navarro said.

"YEAH, WE WERE JUST BEING HONEST! HE WAS GOING TO SAY SOMETHING SOONER OR LATER!!" Rust said.

The girls were happy for Melinda who still was crying happily but she was hugged with some being happy for her.

"Yay my friend got hitched!" Jinx cheered as everyone now begins clapping for the two. Melinda smiled to sniffle but she was happy and Jaron was rubbing the back of his head while smiling and yet, he was happy.

The party resumed moments after but the word spread that Jaron and Melinda was engaged. With a few head bonks from Maggie to stop Navarro, Rust, Fin, and Guam from being silly to Breezy getting one when she added to the bet.

Their devils Lyilus and Yen-Lo-Wang heard this that even the other devils were wondering when their heirs were going to plan their own weddings. Even speaking of the next heirs in the future (Explaining the kids coming later) Though, they were happy for them. The two were already planning a huge demon wedding later in the next year but that was for another moment.

Jaron and Melinda was sitting together but drinking some hot chocolate but she had the ring on and he was happy. Giving a kiss to her cheek, Melinda smiled with eyes closed only to turn and kiss him on the lips.

"I love you Jaron.." she said.

"Love you too Melinda. I'll always love you She loved him and he loved her. This was indeed a gentle special moment on Christmas Eve.

[twotrojanwomen]

Helen in Open Air

It is a strange thing to still feel suffocated while in the open air. I am told by the few who even glance in my direction that soon, we will travel back to Sparta as I become the wife of Menelaus once more. I struggle to see the logic. He spared my life for my beauty and his pride. He is not unkind, he never was, but he has not matured. I am, and will always be valued as a statue, nothing greater. 

I maintain my silence; I have no energy to fight. I think back on the past two decades, which the men call one, and I now wonder what the point of it all was. Its only now that I think of the first time I was carried away. Those foul boys, still in their youths, aspiring to godhood. I never discovered their fate. I only knew that their plans next took them to the underworld to steal away the Queen Persephone, which I certainly can’t imagine ended well for them. Even then, as a child well before my time, I was just decoration. [12] 

I think of the ships, much like the one I wait on now, that flooded the harbor. The fleet was helmed by my brothers, Castor and Pollux, who I only wish would come save me now as they did then. I buried this event deep within my memory, though flashes of it haunt my subconscious. I knew my beauty was different to others by that time, but I had not yet felt it overtook my personhood. Though as the men of Athens load young maidens onto ships to be used as slaves and war prizes, I can't help but feel that it is the universal experience of women to feel this way. 

Nobody asks me for answers. There are no demands to know the truth, only fevered speculation. One moment, a man on my left speaks to another, discussing at length how I signaled to the Achaeans with a light from the central tower's window when it was time to strike. Another to my right spits in my direction and relays how I imitated their wives at the gates to the city in an attempt to draw them from their hiding place. I don't recall doing either of these things, but they never think to ask. They like the version of me that they have constructed in their minds better than the me standing before them. 

My daughter is no doubt a woman now. Though to call myself a mother would be a disservice to those who raised her. I wonder who she was wed to. Or if in the heat of war, Menelaus forgot she existed. I wouldn't be shocked. War is a man’s game and while they kill and rape, it is the women who run their estates. Aside the ships, tossing orders to the wind are the great men of the Achaeans. They congratulated Menelaus for reclaiming me, boasting about my being the greatest bride prize. Foolish is the man who leaves running a kingdom to someone they see as nothing more than a prize to be won.

Even here, much of Paris's court was left for me to manage. I did a fine job, considering my influence was tainted by the blame placed on my shoulders for the deaths of the court’s relatives. War is a man's game, and yet its blame falls to me and me alone. I've thought about lying. Running into Menelaus' arms weeping that I was ripped from him and in these twenty years (I would say to him ten since that is his story) I longed for nothing more then to be reunited with him. I came close the night of the battle, as men stood with rocks to pelt me with, but I couldn't bring myself to. 

That being said, I didn't quite tell the truth either. If I was truthful and transparent, I would say I left because in the eyes of them all, I was nothing more than a toy. I thought I had a chance to be more, to be seen and have a voice. I was wrong, of course, but that is not a cause to condemn my desire. I know that is not what will be recorded. Narratives are written by the victors and the victors are never women.

There will be many details of my life that men won’t feel necessary or appropriate to the retelling of events. [13] Like how when those boys, Theseus and Pirithous stole me in my youth, I was wrestling with my brothers, as I did often. I ran and chased and fought like any young man, but that will be lost. As will my contempt towards Paris as the war dragged on and on. They will forget that we argued often and that his response was not wit but by calling upon me for my body. We began the war as one and the same but by the end, we both fell into the same traps we both longed to escape from. In the end, our paths split once more as he died, and I lived. 

I have decided that I will no longer attempt to speculate on what will happen to me in the coming days. Each time I have in these past days, I am struck by the realization that my life is held in the hands of the very men who see me as no more than a tool that is bent and broke. I see them toss their splintered hammers into ocean after a small sliver and I fear that they will do the same to me. So, I will release myself from the worry. I have no power to change it, so I will bide my time and hope I am spared from the worst of their fantasies.

[12] Katz, Marilyn, “Ideology and ‘The Status of Women’ in Ancient Greece,” History and Theory 31, no. 4, December 1, 1992, doi:10.2307/2505416, 71-82.

[13] Bergren, Ann, "Language and the Female in Early Greek Thought," Weaving Truth: Essays on Language and the Female in Early Greek Thought, (Washington D.C.: Center for Hellenic Studies, 2008), 17-39.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ACOK: Tyrion XI (Chapter 49)

You know what's worse than the HotU chapter? The HotU chapter followed by Tyrion.

Dawn was breaking, and pale ripples of light shimmered on the surface of the river, shattering under the poles and re-forming when the ferry had passed. Timett had taken his Burned Men into the kingswood two days before. Yesterday the Black Ears and Moon Brothers followed, today the Stone Crows.

[...]

Tyrion watched them push off and pole out toward the center of the Blackwater. He felt a queer twinge in the pit of his stomach as Shagga faded in the morning mist. He was going to feel naked without his clansmen.

There goes the mountain clans, never to be seen again. What a pointless storyline...

...unless they reappear in TWOW with an actual purpose. 🤔

+.+.+

He still had Bronn's hirelings, near eight hundred of them now, but sellswords were notoriously fickle. Tyrion had done what he could to buy their continued loyalty, promising Bronn and a dozen of his best men lands and knighthoods when the battle was won. They'd drunk his wine, laughed at his jests, and called each other ser until they were all staggering . . . all but Bronn himself, who'd only smiled that insolent dark smile of his and afterward said, "They'll kill for that knighthood, but don't ever think they'll die for it."

Tyrion had no such delusion.

Lol, yeah. No such delusion. Can't wait for your reaction when Bronn declines your invitation to fight Gregor Clegane.

+.+.+

He was a deal less pleased by the clutter of ramshackle structures that had been allowed to grow up behind the quays, attaching themselves to the city walls like barnacles on the hull of a ship; bait shacks and pot-shops, warehouses, merchants' stalls, alehouses, the cribs where the cheaper sort of whores spread their legs. It has to go, every bit of it. As it was, Stannis would hardly need scaling ladders to storm the walls.

He called Bronn to his side. "Assemble a hundred men and burn everything you see here between the water's edge and the city walls." He waved his stubby fingers, taking in all the waterfront squalor. "I want nothing left standing, do you understand?"

"Why do the smallfolk hate me?" - Tyrion Lannister

+.+.+

Tyrion had only the vaguest memory of Theon Greyjoy from his time with the Starks. A callow youth, always smiling, skilled with a bow; it was hard to imagine him as Lord of Winterfell. The Lord of Winterfell would always be a Stark.

He remembered their godswood; the tall sentinels armored in their grey-green needles, the great oaks, the hawthorn and ash and soldier pines, and at the center the heart tree standing like some pale giant frozen in time. He could almost smell the place, earthy and brooding, the smell of centuries, and he remembered how dark the wood had been even by day. That wood was Winterfell. It was the north. I never felt so out of place as I did when I walked there, so much an unwelcome intruder. He wondered if the Greyjoys would feel it too. The castle might well be theirs, but never that godswood. Not in a year, or ten, or fifty.

I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. - Tyrion IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Pleading illness, Lord Gulian Swann had remained in his castle, taking no part in the war, but his eldest son had ridden with Renly and now Stannis, while Balon, the younger, served at King's Landing. If he'd had a third son, Tyrion suspected he'd be off with Robb Stark. It was not perhaps the most honorable course, but it showed good sense; whoever won the Iron Throne, the Swanns intended to survive.

Is this foreshadowing something? I know Tyrion will play all sides, but is there another family I'm forgetting?

+.+.+

"Better a lady's maid than a pot girl," Shae had said when Tyrion told her the eunuch's scheme. "Can I take my belt of silver flowers and my gold collar with the black diamonds you said looked like my eyes? I won't wear them if you say I shouldn't."

Loath as he was to disappoint her, Tyrion had to point out that while Lady Tanda was by no means a clever woman, even she might wonder if her daughter's bedmaid seemed to own more jewelry than her daughter. "Choose two or three dresses, no more," he commanded her. "Good wool, no silk, no samite, and no fur. The rest I'll keep in my own chambers for when you visit me." It was not the answer Shae had wanted, but at least she was safe.

Easy to read the above and conclude Shae is driven by material possession, and Tyrion is blind for not seeing it.

That's fine, but I'd like to point out that Shae has nothing in life, unlike Tyrion. The jewelry and dresses are likely the only things of value she owns. She worked hard for those possessions doing incredibly unpleasant labour, and he's taking them away from her.

I would not be as understanding or accommodating if I were Shae.

+.+.+

Tyrion shrugged. "It may be. Stannis burned the godswood at Storm's End as an offering to the Lord of Light. If he'd offend the old gods, why should he spare the new?

Stannis Baratheon plants no trees.

Whatever bitch, the trees will get the last laugh.

See?

(I'm joking.)

(I think.)

(If they both die anywhere near a tree, I'm claiming this theory.)

(If not, I'm joking.)

+.+.+

There was an old letter from Doran Martell, warning him that Storm's End had fallen, and a much more intriguing one from Balon Greyjoy on Pyke, who styled himself King of the Isles and the North. He invited King Joffrey to send an envoy to the Iron Islands to fix the borders between their realms and discuss a possible alliance.

Tyrion read the letter three times and set it aside. Lord Balon's longships would have been a great help against the fleet sailing up from Storm's End, but they were thousands of leagues away on the wrong side of Westeros, and Tyrion was far from certain that he wanted to give away half the realm. Perhaps I should spill this one in Cersei's lap, or take it to the council.

Balon Greyjoy's plan is to negotiate the independence of the Isles and North with House Lannister, and he's still nowhere close to being the dumbest person in his family. That's incredible.

+.+.+

"No, no," Hallyne squeaked, "the sums are accurate, I swear. We have been, hmmm, most fortunate, my lord Hand. Another cache of Lord Rossart's was found, more than three hundred jars. Under the Dragonpit! Some whores have been using the ruins to entertain their patrons, and one of them fell through a patch of rotted floor into a cellar. When he felt the jars, he mistook them for wine. He was so drunk he broke the seal and drank some."

"There was a prince who tried that once," said Tyrion dryly. "I haven't seen any dragons rising over the city, so it would seem it didn't work this time either." The Dragonpit atop the hill of Rhaenys had been abandoned for a century and a half. He supposed it was as good a place as any to store wildfire, and better than most, but it would have been nice if the late Lord Rossart had told someone.

The author continues to hammer home that Tyrion Lannister is unaware there's wildfire planted everywhere in King's Landing.

Where could this be going?

+.+.+

Tyrion was growing impatient. Ser Jacelyn Bywater was likely here by now, and Ironhand misliked waiting. "Yes, you have secret spells; how splendid. What of them?"

"They, hmmm, seem to be working better than they were." Hallyne smiled weakly. "You don't suppose there are any dragons about, do you?"

"Not unless you found one under the Dragonpit. Why?"

"Oh, pardon, I was just remembering something old Wisdom Pollitor told me once, when I was an acolyte. I'd asked him why so many of our spells seemed, well, not as effectual as the scrolls would have us believe, and he said it was because magic had begun to go out of the world the day the last dragon died."

Fantastic, more wildfire. Quick question, does the birth of dragons yield anything positive?

+.+.+

"Prince Tommen is hale and happy, my lord. He has adopted a fawn some of my men brought home from a hunt. He had one once before, he says, but Joffrey skinned her for a jerkin.

Is it wrong that I laughed out loud?

+.+.+

The eunuch handed him a scroll. "So much villainy, it sings a sad song for our age. Did honor die with our fathers?"

[...]

"I know some of these names. These are rich men. Traders, merchants, craftsmen. Why should they conspire against us?"

"It seems they believe that Lord Stannis must win, and wish to share his victory. They call themselves the Antler Men, after the crowned stag."

[...]

Among the names on the list was the master armorer Salloreon. "I suppose this means I won't be getting that terrifying helm with the demon horns," Tyrion complained as he scrawled the order for the man's arrest.

Varys continues to go unchecked.

I'm not saying the men on this list aren't guilty, but maybe do your own inquiry. Maybe let's not buy everything Varys sells. Crazy, I know.

Final thoughts:

What was the point of this chapter? How did this chapter progress the plot any further?

20 down, 29 to go. :(

Hey look! I'm out of the 30s... again. 😡

-> return to menu <-

[everlarkficexchange]

Magic as Always

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 71: Magic of Ordinary Days AU: 1940s, Katniss is a single pregnant girl. Desperate for her daughter not to have a child out of wedlock, Mrs Everdeen contacts a priest who in turn knows a young man who just may be willing to help. Sweet, kind and shy Peeta stayed home to take care of the family farm when his beloved brother went to war to never come back. He’s always wanted a family but rural small town life gives little chance to court. He hears of Katniss’ plight and graciously offers to marry her and raise the child as his own. He does everything he can think of to make a home for Katniss and the baby. How does Katniss take it? How does their relationship develop? Will they fall in love? [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: this chapter is rated Teens and Up  

Tags: Historical!AU; WWII; 1940’s Era views on marriage, sexism, pregnancy, etc; Katniss/Marvel relationship; Non-graphic Unprotected Sex; Unplanned Pregnancy; Arrange Marriage; Miscellaneous Religious views; Grief/Mourning; Canon Characters Death; OOC!Mrs.Everdeen; Somewhat OOC!Katniss; Everlark is Endgame; Other tags to be added.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this prompt. I must confess, I’ve never seen the movie ‘The Magic of Ordinary Days’ or read the book the movie is based on. I did a quick skimming on the plot of the movie and then dug up all kinds of reviews on the book, most of my plot points come from a combination of movie and book (which apparently differ only in a few parts), besides what the prompter asked for. I just really loved this prompt, and see the potential of this story, which will be a few chapters long, cross posted to AO3 and I already have a good chunk written ;) The rating will be adjusted too, because there will be explicit Everlark smut in the following chapters. Anon, I hope I don’t disappoint you, this story will be only loosely based on the source material, and adapted to fit THG characters in the narrative, I will try to stick to the main plot points as much as I can, but I’m also taking several liberties with the story. I hope you still like it though. 

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

Prim died on a Tuesday, after a very long, strenuous battle with poliomyelitis. My sweet little sister’s face looked as fresh as a dew drop even in death. 

  “Come now, Katniss,” my mother calls from the open door of the mortuary hall, where visitation took place an hour ago. 

  The mortician has arranged for the coffin to be taken to the cemetery and put in the ground this afternoon. There will be no graveside mourning. It’s all we could pay for, but then again the war has left everyone penniless nowadays.

  A big, rotund man comes to close the coffin, and offers a curt nod. 

  That’s it then. The very last time I’ll ever set eyes on Primrose’s sweet face. 

  “Katniss,” Mother whispers, insistently. It’s probably all she can muster before breaking down in tears.

  I look on at the box my sister’s body lies in, numb and heartsick. I bring my 3 middle fingers to my lips and then rise them in the air. My last salute to my beloved Little Duck. I step away from the coffin and shuffle towards mother. 

  Up close, I can see the deep, dark bruises under my mother’s eyes. She used to be beautiful in her youth— according to friends and old photographs— but now she just looks tired and defeated. I guess having to bury first her husband and then her 15 year old daughter, in less than a year, would have that effect on anyone.

  Prim would’ve looked like our mother, with their soft blonde locks, almond shaped blue eyes and alabaster skin. She had a softer spirit though, she enjoyed music and loved animals. She always said that if she was older, she would’ve joined the Red Cross and signed up to serve as a nurse to our boys in the Pacific, like Father did… Father wasn’t a nurse though, he was a chaplain. 

  It’s funny to think that I inherited so much of my father, like my dark hair, gray eyes and olive skin. We both also share the same aversion to human pain and blood that moves my mother and Prim to action; but unlike Prim, my father’s calling to help the soldiers in their worst situations, passed me and went directly to my baby sister. 

  I sigh… Prim would’ve made a terrific army nurse, if only she hadn’t wasted in bed with that odious disease! If she had been given the chance to live, I’m sure Prim would’ve had so many boys trailing after her. She would marry at some point and have a beautiful full life. 

  I don’t plan on marrying and having a family. If the acute pain in my own chest wasn’t enough warning,  watching my mother walk silently from the funeral home to our apartment, with her head bowed and listening to her quiet sobs at night would be enough evidence that there’s too much sorrow in losing one’s husband and children. 

  I think my efforts will be better spent in cultivating my mind, and getting my degree in botany, like my father always dreamed, anyway… plus, I’m not much of a looker… not like Prim at any rate. 

  We finally arrived at our modest home. Mother drifts ghost-like into the door, and then we both shuffle quietly into our separate bedrooms. There won’t be a meal at the table tonight, but I make sure Prim’s old tomcat gets fed and watered, and after he meows in distress at my sister’s door, I open mine, and let him strut inside my bedroom and hop into my bed. The hideous fur ball and I distrust each other, but he understands his mistress is never coming back, and he’s the last thing I have from her… so he lets me pet him and he cuddles close to my chest as I fall asleep, crying. 

——————————-

Mother and I walk slowly through the busy streets of town, mostly ignoring the bustle and disarray around us. People shout, cars honk horns, a baby cries in the distance, and the few young men rush back and forth in the busy sidewalks, like they’re being lashed by invisible whips.

  “We should stop by the grocer and see if we can pick up some eggs.” Says my mother, pulling her “Sugar Book” out of her handbag. 

  Because of the war, everything is being rationed, from sugar to shoes.

  I could care less about food and clothing, though. But I still go into the shop, dutifully. 

  I’m so immersed in my own thoughts, I don’t see the lanky man walking towards me with his arms full of vittles. 

  We collide. The man’s groceries fly up in every direction, raining over me, as I sit on my rump on the floor. 

  My mother is nowhere to be seen. Typical.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Says the man, pulling a packet of oatmeal from the floor, while extending his other hand to help me up. 

  “No… it’s alright, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Well, let’s agree that we’re both klutzes, and leave it at that?” The man offers.

  I’m on my feet, dusting my skirt off and righting my blouse, “Sure, let’s do that.” I scowl at the skew state of my clothes and finally look up at the man. 

  He’s smiling down at me, and I must admit, his smile is dazzling. He��s got short brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles over his nose. He also towers above me. 

  “My stars! If it isn’t Katniss Everdeen!” The young man says, unexpectedly excited.

  I blink owlishly at him, and try to place his face, but I’m horrible at remembering people. Or their names. 

  “Marvel Quaid,” he offers genially, unfazed by my lack of response, “we went to grade school together?” He prompts, “My pa used to sell luxury goods in District One?”

  “Oh, I think it’s coming back now,” I say smiling for the first time in what feels like months. “You used to throw sticks, pretending they were spears or something,” I tell him, showing that indeed, I do remember him.

  Marvel scrunches his nose, “Javelins, actually. I was pretending I threw javelins. I saw a fellow doing it for the Olympics in a film, and then he won a medal for it. I thought to myself that making a victory lap with the good old American flag flapping after oneself looked like fun; well, I wanted to be a victor too!” He chuckles, then deflates. “But as everything, those dreams are gone now, crushed to dust under the weight of the war.”

  As is the norm, once the war gets brought up, gloominess settles on, dampening the cheeriest of spirits.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m all too familiar with the sentiment.”

  Marvel nods, grimly. 

  “We lost Father in France.” I’m not sure why I said it. “We put my sister in the ground last week, too.” I avert my eyes. 

  “Aww, geez, Kit… that’s truly awful. I’m so sorry for your loss,”

  I’m mildly surprised I don’t immediately recoil at his little pet name. I guess the fact that he doesn’t sound condescending while delivering his condolences, helps. 

  “Oh, well, as my father would’ve said, at least their toils in this world are over. They can finally rest in peace.”

  After a moment of heavy silence, Marvel shares, “I’m being shipped out tomorrow morning.”

  I scowl, “Oh,” I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how he’d manage to evade the draft for this long? Marvel is my age, 19 going on 20… boys get sent to the front lines at 18. “I… I could write to you… if you wanted?” I offer shyly. 

  Isn’t that what young women are being told to do, in order to keep our boys’ morale from plummeting?  

  Marvel grins, showing slightly crooked teeth, “That would be swell, Kit!” He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, “I should go back to my shopping, before they miss me at home. Lord knows when will I have the chance of doing something as mundane as picking up my mother’s weekly grocery allowance.”

  These days it is not only uncommon seeing men doing grocery runs, but simply seeing young, able-body men around, period. All of our boys are either in Europe or the Pacific, fighting to keep the devastation of the World war from reaching our shores.

  “Well, for what is worth, I hope you get to return home safely… you know, so you can do all the boring tasks your mother tells you to do. And when I say safe, I mean, I hope you don’t run anymore into spaced out girls, like me,” I smirk. 

  “Oh, Kit, if only you knew how much I’ve enjoyed our accidental skirmish. It’s like a gift from above, seeing you after all these years. Your smile and the color of your eyes will forever be branded in my mind, to give me a reason to fight. To have a dream,”

  I’m momentarily floored by Marvel’s florid little speech. Nobody has ever said anything nearly as sweet and gallant as that to me, and for a moment, I forget all about my dead sister and father, the war, and my own sorrow. 

  I avert my eyes, bashfully, as he finishes picking up his vittles off the floor.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I lean over to pick up a can of milk, and put it on top of his pile. 

  “I only speak the truth,” he smiles brightly. 

  My mother chooses to interrupt at the exact moment I bat my lashes at him, “Katniss, there you are! I’ve been waiting for you by the counter.” She shakes her head. 

  Marvel wobbles on his feet, rearranging his load, and then greets my mother, warmly, “Mrs. Everdeen, how nice to see you again,” 

  My mother eyes him, unimpressed. “Good afternoon, young man,” she answers. 

  “Ma’am… pardon my forwardness, but, would it be too troublesome to ask Miss Katniss to accompany a soldier about to be shipped out, to supper in the town?” 

  My mother narrows her eyes, distrust dripping from her voice as she speaks, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. My daughter and I are in mourning, you see,”

  “Oh, this won’t be an untoward celebration of any kind, ma’am. With the war raging on, we’re all in mourning. All I ask for is one last night of normalcy, a chance to reconnect with an old grade-school mate,” he smiles, hopefully, “For old times sake?” 

  I’m watching my mother’s face closely, with bated breath.

  “Very well,” Mother sighs, “You may ask Katniss out to dinner. But have her home by 9 sharp!”  

  I don’t hesitate to step up and give him directions to my apartment building in District 12. 

  I spend the rest of my day giddy and nervous, pressing my best Sunday suit, the gray one with the matching jacket, and polishing my only pair of leather shoes. There isn’t much I can do about my hair… the thing can’t be fashioned into the favored waves, not even putting it in curlers overnight, so I let it be. 

  I briefly wonder if this was all Prim’s doing? Meeting Marvel and mother’s somewhat easy aquiciscent. Prim hated seeing me sad, and constantly talked about how she’d love to help me get ready for dates with a beau. She couldn’t wait to be of courting age and date a strapping, young man herself… but of course, that would never happen for her, but she would probably still want to see me have those things. 

  Maybe Marvel is right, and our serendipitous encounter is a gift from above, to heal our wounds… at least for the night. 

  ————————-

  Marvel arrives at my house in his father’s car at 5:45. Riding is now such a luxury, with gasoline being rationed and all. He takes me to a quaint little dinner in the middle of town. We share malts, a greasy burger, and a small portion of fries and onion rings. 

  We talk about baseball:

  “You’d look good in a baseball uniform, Kit! Can you still run as fast as you did in school?” 

  I laugh. “I’m not much for sports,” I demure, “but I’ve heard playing in one of the new teams pays alright. Anyway, I’m gonna be starting my second year of college soon. I put my studies on hold while Prim was at her worst, but now that it’s only just me and mother… I’m anxious to go back to study.”

  “Wow, beautiful and smart!”

  We talk about cars:

  “I loved driving… but Mother sold our car when my sister took a turn for the worse. She didn’t want to at first, saying that Father saved up to buy it, and it held sentimental value to her, but I had to push to sell it. We needed the money and gas was a nightmare to come by, anyway,”

  “The only reason we still have ours,” says Marvel, “is because Pa is too stubborn to let go of the things that still made him feel wealthy.” He scowls, “He’s trying to get into the ice business now, since it’s pretty much the only thing one where the raw material is plenty and relatively cheap, and there’s guarantee that people will buy the product… everyone still needs ice for their ice boxes, right?” 

  No one can afford luxuries anymore with every penny going out to support our boys in the battlefields.

  We talk about many other subjects: his sister’s wedding; my father’s unit getting pinned and killed by Germans… We didn’t get a body to bury, but I got a medal on his behalf as his eldest child. 

  Marvel lets me sniffle against his chest, and then kisses my lips slowly. 

  I’ve never been kissed on the lips, and I feel my face heat up. 

  “Would you… like to take a drive with me, Kit?”

  We drive all the way to the city limit. It’s exhilarating to be in a car again, and sitting at the overlook, at twilight,  alone with a handsome boy, feels positively forbidden! 

  I’ve never done anything remotely injudicious all my life, and this whole moment feels… magical… exciting! 

  Tentatively, I initiated our next kiss, but he takes over in a rush of caresses and flitting touches. 

  “Beautiful, graceful, Kit. You have no match!”

  “Marvel…” I kiss him again, not knowing how to answer his sentiments with words.

  His hands are restless, groping my shoulders and elbows. “I wished he had more time! I would’ve loved to marry you before departing. I would’ve show you so much passion and love!”

  “You still can show me, Marvel… you absolutely can!” 

  It’s all the permission he needs to dive into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop until the deed is done, and we’re a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs in the back seat of the car, only partially clothed. 

  A deep feeling of lethargy pours over me. My muscles are sore and heavy, and wished I could fall asleep in here. 

  “I intend on coming back to marry you, Katniss,” Marvel says, stretching his lanky, long legs to zip up his pants. 

  I sit up and start finger-combing my ruined hair, hoping my mother won’t notice the strands are extra frizzy. “Um… I guess we should after this,” I say shyly, gesturing between us. 

  “You could still go to college while I’m away,” he offers with magnanimity.

  “You… wouldn’t mind that?” I ask incredulous, college women are so rare, unless they’re trying to become nurses or teachers. Most girls start courting right after high school and get married in the span of one to two years, and their husbands don’t normally encourage an education beyond what their wives came into the marriage with; so to hear Marvel say that wouldn’t mi d me stay in college is just about the greatest thing possible!

  “My darling, Kit, I don’t want you to be one of those girls pining and wasting away for her beau. I’ll be busy at war, it’ll be unfair to keep you from occupying your own time while you wait fir my return. Go to college, my clever girl!”

  I smile indulgently at him, leaning closer to slip his necktie around the collar of his shirt, “You are truly a generous, loving man,” I say.

  Marvel beams, circling my waist with his arms pulling me against his body. “It’s all inspired by you, sugar plum!”

  I giggle, kissing his cheek, “I’ll write to you every day!” I promise. 

  “That’s nice… but just so you know, I might not be able to write back right away. It’ll be a while before I get settled enough to write. But you’ll be in my thoughts every minute of every day, and that’s the honest truth! I’m serious about marrying you when I return, Kit,” he kisses me again. And then, he looks at his watch, sighing. “It’s 8:32. We should get on going, gotta keep in my future mother-in-law’s good graces!” 

  We share a carefree laugh, and finish tidying ourselves up to drive back to my house. 

  He walks me to the door, takes me in his arms, and kisses me passionately before promising he’d be back to officially ask for my hand in marriage, and for my part, I swear I’ll write to him every day until he returns home safe and sound. 

  But neither of us keeps our promises in the end, although I tried. 

  ————————-

  Three weeks go by and I keep my word of writing daily letters. I receive no word in return from Marvel, but think nothing of it… Europe is far and traveling by sea is tedious and time consuming; Marvel will get in touch once he’s settled down. 

  Another week goes by, still without news from my would-be fiancé. I still don’t worry. I’ve been busy with university, and the few other girls attending school with me keep me busy, but my heavier workload is starting to get to me.

  I’m usually so tired and moody after school that socializing with my classmates becomes a chore. I barely eat supper before I’m passing out in bed, and my letters to Marvel start to get shorter and simpler with every passing day.

  I skip writing one afternoon altogether, and take a long nap. Buttercup— Prim’s ugly cat— perches on my bed like a sentinel to watch me sleep. I believe he’s worried about me… stupid, clingy cat thinks I’m sick.

  But the feline’s intuition proves right, because just two days later, I shoot out of bed and run into the washroom to spill every last ounce of last night supper into the toilet. I must’ve caught a bug or something! 

  I feel queasy and lightheaded every morning after. My appetite wanes and it seems my delicate stomach can only tolerate pears, and broth. 

  I visit the post office to place out my letters to Marvel almost everyday; Every time I come, the nice old mailman comments on how sweet it is to see all the young-uns holding romance strong. Marvel has yet to respond to one of my letters, so I just smile tightly and demure. 

  I’ve been thinking though; the longer I go without news of my supposed future husband, and despite the whirlwind night of romance with him, I start questioning my actions, my promises. I never wanted to marry before, and suddenly I was okay getting a hasty, unofficial engagement with a virtual stranger, I barely remember from grade school… maybe it’s better if Marvel never writes. 

  My plans on earning a college degree and finding a well paying job will go unencumbered— I’m aware women in prominent working professions are as rare as snow in July, but women’s presence in the working forces keep growing as industries need laborers to keep up producing while the men fight in the war. Educated women are almost becoming less rare. 

  At the two month mark since I last saw Marvel, I become weepier than usual… is to be expected in my opinion; Prim’s been gone for a little over two months and she was the only person I knew I loved. But now I’m worrying about my health on top of everything.

  One morning, while I’m kneeling on the cold, hard floor in front of the toilet, feeling miserable and tired, my mother calls my name from the open door.

  “Katniss, I think it’s time to get a test.” She states evenly, and then enters the room to fetch a damp washcloth to wipe my face clean. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid you may be with child,” she sighs. 

  I squirm. “No,” I gasp. “I— I can’t be with child. I just can’t!” But the thought has crossed my mind a few times already. “It’s not supposed to be this way!”

  “I know, child,” My mother pats my head, “there’s only one way to know. Get dressed for the day, I will call the most discreet physician I know, and have him pay us a visit.” 

  ————————-

  Doctor Aurelius— a physician my mother has helped deliver babies and treat maladies with— confirms the pregnancy with a grim face. 

  I sit at my kitchen table numb and despondent. My mother writes a check to the doctor for his services, while talking in no so hush tones in the other room. I listen to their whole conversation, as if submerged in water.

  “I blame myself for this, doctor. I should have kept a closer eye on her,” 

  “Don’t blame yourself Ms. Everdeen, it’s that war business bringing out all sorts of evil into the world! It’s unfortunate the rise of these cases in our community. Young ladies— from good families!— engaging in acts ought to be saved for marriage. Youth do things without thinking, guided by fear. Our boys fear they may not return from that senseless, awful war, and settle down properly, and I don’t blame them one little bit.”

  “The only solace I have right now, is that my poor husband is not here to see the shame that’s fallen over our family,”

  “I understand the sentiment, ma’am. There’s no telling how Preacher Everdeen would’ve taken this blow. But I’m sure things will work out as soon as young Katniss hears from the father…” 

  I dissolve into silent tears then. My mother escorts the doctor to the door and then there’s silence. 

  My pinky finger curls into the soft fabric of the table cloth, and I try to ignore the urge to vomit boiling in my stomach. There’s one thought circling mi mind: my college days are over.

  ——————————-

“Ah! Miss Everdeen, I have something for you.” Says the mailman as soon as I reach the desk. He smiles, but rather sadly, like he’s about to give me bad news. 

  I’ve come to the post office with urgent letters every day for 6 days, and he’s never looked at me this way. 

  The old man digs around for a moment and almost reluctantly, passes a parcel tied up in twine. An envelope is attached to the top of the parcel, and with a sinking feeling, I realized it’s a stack of my own letters. 

  “It came in today, miss.” Says the man, voice laced with pity. “Sorry for your loss.” He says. 

  At first I don’t understand what he could possibly mean by that; he’s offered his sympathies fir my dead father and sister already; it makes absolutely no sense to repeat himself randomly after so long. 

  Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. 

  I gasp, and press the parcel to my chest. “Oh no! Marvel!” I whisper. I give the man a hasty wave, thanking him, and rush out of the post office like mad. 

  Tears run down my cheeks, while I dash home, imagining the worst. “Poor, Marvel!” Is all I can think.

  “Katniss, what’s wrong?” My mother calls, alarmed, when I rush to my bedroom, sobbing. She follows me in, and watches me tear into the envelope at the top of the stack. 

  I frown in confusion when I’m met with handwritten, chicken-scratch scrawl, instead of a formal missive typed in official US military stationary. 

  My scowl deepens as my eyes rove over the flowery vocabulary, and then I screech, “What?!” 

  “Katniss, what’s going on?” 

  I ignore my mother when she approaches to read over my shoulder; I step around her, shaking the piece of paper in my hands and stand by the window, as if sunlight will make the words change their meaning.

  I smooth the creases and folds on the page over, and read out loud, “Dearest Kit, sorry it took so long to write, it’s been a wild time since we arrived and finding time to correspond with everyone back home it’s been hard.

  “At times, your letters have been the sole source of light and hope in the darkness of this conflict. Is for that reason, and with a heavy heart, that I must come clean to you now. I truly meant it when I swore to come back and make you my wife, but as the Good Book says, the Lord works in mysterious ways, and love has sprouted out the most unlikely place! Kit, I’ve fallen in love and married a lovely gal here in England…”

  I stop reading. He goes on talking about the why and how, but I sincerely don’t care. 

  “That good for nothing, virtue dasher, future crushing… liar!” My mother bleats to the ceiling, raising her palms over her head, dramatically. 

  I’m angry too, of course. I feel used and disposed of like a dirty rag, but my mother’s reaction is borderline hilarious. Except, it isn’t. 

  I’m pregnant, unmarried, and soon— once my still flat stomach starts rounding— I’ll be socially ostracized for my condition. My only saving grace was the promise of marriage that bastard Marvel had given me. But that’s gone now. 

  “I knew that boy was bad news the second I laid eyes on him! He never even introduced himself to me, the little weasel! This is my fault. My fault! I should’ve never allowed you to run amok with the likes of him…”

  “Mother, will you please?” I nearly growl, gesturing at the open bedroom door.

  She stares at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, before pursing her lips in disapproval, and stalking out of the room muttering her aggravation under her breath. 

  I sink into my bed with Marvel’s stupid letter crumpling in my fist. A single, hot, angry tear rolls down my face, and for the first time since finding out of its existence, I hug my midsection and address my child, “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess. I know you didn’t ask for a mother like me, but I’m all you got now, little one. I promise we will be alright… I’ll try not to let you down.”

  ———————-

  My mother has been unbearable for the last two days. She cries in her room worse than when Prim died, and when she sees me, she starts lamenting my poor choice, like I’m not even standing there… as if I don’t feel discouraged enough. 

  I keep myself busy with my education. I will need to earn this diploma now more than ever before, and I need to do as much as I can before the baby arrives and my studies get put on hold. 

  In the meantime, I scout the newspapers for possible work options to sustain me and my mother. Our savings keep diminishing and the small stipend my mother got from the Army since my father passed away is becoming more insufficient by the day. 

  There’s a knock on the front door, and I push out my chair unhappy by the interruption. 

  “Afternoon Miss Katniss! Would you let your mother know she’s got a telephone call down in the lobby?” Says the building’s doorkeeper. 

  “Of course, thank you. She’ll be right down!”

  Telephones are yet another luxury we had to give up when moved to this small place after losing my father. 

  I go back to my job hunt, and my mother descends to the lobby, quickly. 

  She returns after only 10 minutes, almost running through the door, excitedly calling my name. Tears wet her face, but her smile is so blinding, even without knowing what sort of news she’s heard to cause her such joy, I stand from the table with nervous anticipation. 

  “Oh, Katniss! Katniss my dear daughter, you’re saved!” She exclaims, hugging me tightly. 

  I’m confused. I step away from her embrace, “What do you mean?” 

  “It’s the best thing possible ever, I tell you! The Lord has answered all of my prayers!”

  “This is all so exciting and all, mother, but… could you please share this great news already?” 

  My mother cups my face in her hands, and beams at me, “You need to pack your things, darling! Your father’s good friend, Reverend Undersee, has found a husband, and you are to wed, in three days time!”

  —————————

Reverend Undersee and his daughter, Madge, meet me and my mother at the rinky dink bus station, in the equally tiny town my mother has banished me to.

  “Katniss! How long has it been?” Says Madge, hugging me enthusiastically.

  I bite my tongue to keep the acidic retort of “not long enough!” to leave my mouth. 

  “Welcome to Panem,” says the reverend, soberly, shaking my mother’s hand in greeting.

  “Thank you, revered. We appreciate your hospitality and your understanding,” my mother responds, then gives me a pointed look and a wordless command. 

  I nod and mutter, “Thank you, sir. Madge,” 

  I scowl at a crack in the pavement, not feeling an iota of gratefulness for this charade! 

  Any man agreeing to this questionable union has to either be desperate, or be hiding terrible, ulterior motives to go along with all of this. Nobody in their right mind would willingly marry a girl pregnant with another man’s baby, and be happy about it… unless that’s the reason! 

  I shudder at the thought. 

  But it is a very real possibility that my intended is a simpleton, who can’t find a wife otherwise… or worse! It could be a man very advanced in age, looking for a supple, young body to leech off. Gross!

  My mother had been too excited about the news that a man offered to marry me (as if I asked for, or even wanted a husband!) to bother to ask his name. 

  Reverend Undersee coughs daintily, clears his throat, and starts, like he’s giving a lecture at the university. “It is our Christian duty to lend a helping hand to widows and orphans in their time of needs. Same way it’s our duty to keep the memory and honor of an old friend from being dragged into the mud.”

  I wince at the harsh words, and let my face fall lower, if that’s even possible. 

  “Well, it’s a good thing that we are all recipients of the abundant grace of the Lord, which covers multitude of faults, and it’s never hard to reach,” a deep, velvety, masculine voice cuts into my embarrassment. 

  I lift my eyes from the ground, to find a man striding confidently in our direction. He smiles kindly at me, his eyes fixed on my own, like I’m the only person still standing in the station.

  He finally cedes our staring contest, to take in the rest of the group.

  A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, because I recognize him from years past when my family used to visit this town, and I’m afraid I know exactly why he’s here. 

  “Good afternoon, all. I apologize for my tardiness, I had a last second detail to take care of before leaving the house,” he nods in our general direction, taking his hat off; a riot of ashy blonde curls falls onto his forehead, before bending forward to shake my mother’s hand, “I’m Peeta Mellark, at your service, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

  “Likewise, mister Mellark,” says my mother, her lips twitch tersely, “Widow Everdeen, and this here is my daughter Katniss… your bride.” 

  Peeta Mellark’s baby blue eyes slip back to mine, and the left side corner of lips curls into a shy, earnest smile. “Welcome to Panem, Katniss, I’ll sure do my best, so you’d like it here.”

[maria-scribbles]

we’re just like kevin bacon!

prompt: for @bricksatanakinswindow​ ‘s halloween writing challenge! this was initially inspired by "mortal enemies accidentally showing up in matching costumes every fucking year" but once i started writing it kind of snowballed from there and i ended up with this lmao

ship: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k+ (i think this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written lol)

warnings n stuff: childhood enemies to lovers, swearing, mention of underage drinking, halloween shenanigans, makin' out, smut (not too explicit but i still think it's spicy enough to need an 18+ warning), jj and the reader being cute lil nerds and quoting movies back and forth, the author blatantly using some of her personal favorite movies/shows as inspiration for costumes, the author also making her opinions on ghostbusters clear (instead of the human trash can peter venkman, stan the adorable dork known as ray stantz for clear skin)

a/n: this was hella fun to write and i already have so many more halloween fic ideas bouncing around in my head (it's spoopy season, y'all!). title of this fic comes from guardians of the galaxy 😊

Of three things in life you were certain.

One, you loved Halloween more than any other holiday of the year; after all, you and your twin brother Mason were born just after one AM on October 31st so you could say a penchant for all things spooky was in your blood.

Two, Sarah Cameron was your best friend. Being neighbors your whole lives, the two of you were thick as thieves and spent almost every day together, much to the annoyance of both your brother and hers; as much as you loved Mason, sometimes you wished Sarah was your twin instead of him and you knew without question the blonde girl would trade Rafe for you in a heartbeat (with little to no guilt, in fact.). 

And three, you absolutely hated JJ Maybank. You'd been at the top of each other's shit lists ever since you were both six years old, when he made fun of you for the stutter you'd had back then and you dumped a full milkshake over his head as payback, and even as time passed and you grew out of your stutter, your disdain for the blond pogue only grew stronger. He was infuriating, plain and simple, and the mere mention of his name made steam come out of your ears. 

The boy was just good at being annoying and seemed to love pushing everyone's buttons, yours especially, and always found ways to get under your skin without fail every single time your paths crossed (which was way too often for your liking, but running in the same friend group made it hard to avoid each other). It became an unspoken thing, the great Y/L/N-Maybank feud, with both of you trying your hardest to piss the other off until one of your mutual friends or your brother broke it up and pulled you to opposite corners of the metaphorical ring to take a breather before the next round.

You'd never admit it but deep down you kind of liked it. You liked being at the center of his attention (granted, it was antagonistic in nature but it was attention all the same), his bright blue eyes following your every move whenever you were within his sights and you liked that you were in his thoughts even when you weren't around, a fact proven to you by the tiny notebook Kiara carried around in her pocket recording how many times he mentioned your name. Knowing you lived rent free in his mind brought you an embarrassingly high level of satisfaction that you'd absolutely deny feeling if anyone ever asked, just as you'd deny the fact that he lived rent free in your mind, too.

...At least for most of the year. Everyone, including JJ, knew that to you Halloween was a damn-near sacred time. He knew never to mess with you during the weeks leading up to the holiday and definitely never on the day itself, lest he want yet another milkshake dumped over his blond head. He knew that, the whole damn island knew he did and yet...somehow, some way, he managed to get your blood boiling every. single. year. And you, like a masochistic idiot, let him. 

It all started when you were twelve.

You, Mason, and your friends were finally old enough to go to the annual youth party held on the sprawling lawn of the Island Club, an event you'd been looking forward to attending every Halloween since you were eight. Of course, you were excited for the dancing and games and food but the thing you couldn't wait the most for was the costume contest, a chance to show off your skills and prove to everyone on the island that Y/N Y/L/N was the undisputed queen of Halloween.

So what if your hopes were a little too high (considering you were only twelve and going up against kids ranging from your age to fifteen), you were still gonna give it your all; you spent weeks perfecting not only your costume but your brother's as well with your mom, helping her cut fabric and sew zippers, styling wigs and painting props until everything was perfect. 

"Oh my God, Y/N!" Sarah, dressed as Cinderella, yelled from the passenger seat of her dad's SUV when they swung by to pick you up. "You look amazing!"

"So do you!" You said, slipping into the back seat in between a miserable-looking Rafe as Sarah Sanderson ("I lost a bet," he explained with a scowl) and Mason, holding your mini R2-D2 on your lap. Was it kind of cheesy, dressing up as the most iconic twins in movie history? Probably, but you really didn't care because Leia Organa was a total boss bitch and Mason was practically over the moon that he got to be his ultimate silver screen hero and swing around his very own lightsaber as Luke Skywalker.

"The Force is strong with you two." Ward joked, earning an eye roll from both of his children as he drove to the Island Club to drop you off. Rafe immediately disappeared into the crowd to meet up with Topper and Kelce and the three of you went off to find your own friends, skirting around the edge of the party toward the snack tables, also known as the most likely place for them to be.  

You spotted Kiara first, looking like an actual princess in her Tiana costume and waved, smiling when she waved back and beckoned you over as she said something to Pope, dressed as Albert Einstein, that made him start laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" You asked, reaching between them to grab two handfuls of pretzels and immediately dropping one into your brother's outstretched palm, careful to keep the sleeve of your white dress away from the bright orange-iced cupcakes on the table. 

The two of them exchanged a look that instantly made you realize something was Up™ but before either of them could answer, Mason asked around a mouthful of pretzels, "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

"J, why didn't we think of that?" John B's voice came from somewhere over your shoulder and when you turned to face him, you nearly dropped both the droid cradled in the crook of your elbow and the snacks in your hand. Not because of John B and his hilarious Chewbacca costume but because of the fact that JJ Maybank, the one person you hated the most on the whole entire island, was dressed as Han freakin' Solo. 

"Yikes." Someone muttered behind you -it sounded like Sarah but you weren't really sure- and Mason nearly choked on his pretzels as he tried and failed miserably to keep himself from laughing. 

"You've gotta be kidding me." You huffed, rolling your eyes as JJ crossed his arms and glared in your direction, blaster hanging from the holster on his hip.

"Listen, Princess, I'm not too happy about this, either."

"Oh, shut up, you nerfherder."

"Who you calling-" Mason and John B cut in and pulled you both in opposite directions before either of you could turn it into a shouting match, your brother physically grabbing you around the waist and carrying you off while the latter caught the back of JJ's vest and dragged him away. Despite their best efforts to keep you apart, you ran into each other more times than you could count and spent a minute or two squabbling like cats and dogs each time until one of them intervened once again. It was childish, it was immature, and it was fun, even though you'd never, ever admit it. Ever.

You didn't win the costume contest that year in the way you'd imagined at all. Still, first place in the group category was a win in your book and it felt good, even if one of the members of your unintentional Star Wars posse was someone who tested every bit of patience you had. The four of you split the cash prize and you went home 25 bucks richer, stashing it away for next year's costume and pushing the thought of accidentally matching with your mortal enemy from your mind. 

You had no idea this thing was only just beginning.

The next year, you let Sarah and Kiara convince you to match with them and the three of you rolled up to the party as the Pink Ladies -you as Rizzo, Sarah as Sandy, Kiara as Frenchy- only to run right into the boys, your brother included, dressed as the T-Birds. John B, perfectly in character as Danny, immediately whisked Sarah off to dance while Pope, the most adorably awkward Doody you'd ever seen, went to grab some snacks with Kiara, leaving you stuck with the bane of your existence as, of course, fucking Kenickie (Mason, as Sonny, dipped sometime before then without you noticing). The two of you spent the whole evening glaring at each other and hurling insults back and forth at breakneck speed, more in character than either of you'd ever want to acknowledge and for the second year in a row, you won first place in the group costume category.

At fourteen, you went as Princess Buttercup and JJ showed up as Westley, fake sword in hand as he followed you around all night like an annoying fly, sarcastically drawling "as you wish" every time you so much as glanced in his direction. Your brother, dressed as Inigo Montoya, nearly pissed himself laughing and you wanted to snatch both of their prop swords and shove them up their asses. You came in first again in the group costume contest and begrudgingly split the prize three ways. 

At fifteen, you worked hard on a Dr. Ellie Sattler costume from Jurassic Park, he strolled in as a disheveled Dr. Alan Grant with mud splattered boots and tattered clothes, and you really regretted not taking the offer to be the Tai to Sarah's Cher and Kiara's Dionne. Once again, Mason laughed so hard his face turned red and you were tempted to grab the sword he was holding and beat him over the head with it, not just for laughing at you but also for the completely atrocious Jack Sparrow costume he wore. To your absolute horror, you and JJ won the contest in the duo category and you wanted to melt into the ground when they called you onto the makeshift stage to collect your reward. 

When you were sixteen, you and your friends "graduated" to the party held for the older teens inside the club itself. With costume rules a little more lax than they were for the younger kids, you decided to go as (an only slightly sexy) Janine Melnitz, complete with a prop telephone you answered every so often with a loud "Ghostbusters, whaddya want?!" much to the embarrassment of Mason, who was once again dressed as Luke Skywalker, this time in the fatigues he wore while training on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back.

You strutted into the party in your heels and pencil skirt only to nearly fall flat on your face when you caught sight of JJ in a terrible black wig and glasses, proton pack strapped to his back and 'Spengler' printed on the front of his jumpsuit. Your brother winced when you all but screeched "Again?!" right into his ear and grabbed your elbow, dragging you over to an empty table and depositing you into an open chair.

"There's no way this is a coincidence anymore! He could've picked Venkman, with all the womanizing and lowkey being a creep and thinking he's God's gift to mankind? It would've been the perfect choice! He's not nearly adorable or dorky enough to be Stantz or sassy enough to be Winston-"

"Jesus, you have a lot of feelings about Ghostbusters," Mason muttered, rolling his eyes when you shot him a withering glare.

"Shut up! Listen to me, there's no way in hell Maybank randomly decided to be, out of alllll the 'Busters, Egon fuckin' Spengler, okay? He had to have somehow known I was coming as Janine and did it just to piss me off!"

Your brother heaved a deep, heavy sigh that made you want to smack him and fixed you with a deadpan stare. "Or, have you pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to think that maybe you're just becoming...predictable?"

You really did smack him then, hard on his exposed shoulder and he yelped, scowling as he rubbed at the red mark you left behind. "Ow! What the hell, bitch?!"

"Don't you dare call me predictable, you dickhead! I pride myself on my costumes being very unique and unexpected -you know, out of the box!"

"Hate to break it to you but they're not really out of the box if Maybank shows up in a matching one every single year." He said with an infuriating, shit-eating grin, patting your shoulder before straightening the plush Yoda strapped to his back. "I'm gonna go get some food, wanna come with?"

Still miffed at his comment, you shoved his arm away and glanced down at your lap, ignoring your brother's sassy "your loss" as he headed toward the snack tables. Not even a minute passed by before his empty seat was taken and you groaned when you looked up to see who it was, your eyes meeting a pair of bright blues behind tacky, oversized glasses. 

"Hi, Janine."

"...Egon."

The two of you sat in silence after that, watching the dancing crowd under the flashing neon lights and sparkling disco ball until you saw him turn to face you out of the corner of your eye.

"Why Janine?" 

"Huh?" You turned to face him, too, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch as he gestured toward your costume.

"Why did you dress up as Janine, Y/L/N?"

"I've always liked her sassiness and 'I like to play racquetball.'" You offered a casual shrug of your shoulders and carefully stuck a finger under your wig to scratch an annoying itch above your ear. "Why'd you pick Egon, Maybank?"

"He's my favorite." He answered simply with his own shrug, shooting you a genuine, real smile that you, for who knows what reason, found yourself returning without a second thought. "Smart, hilarious -plus, 'I like to collect spores, mold, and fungus.'"

For the first time in your life, your eyes rolled out of amusement and not annoyance at something that JJ Maybank said and, to your complete surprise, it kind of felt...right. "Really? I'd have pegged you for a Venkman stan."

"Are you kidding? He's the worst!" 

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you'd sit across from your hated enemy, not only having a civil -hell, downright enjoyable- conversation but actually smiling right along with him, laughing at his jokes and doing your best to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach each time you caught sight of his slightly crooked teeth when he grinned. You didn't even notice when your brother returned with Kiara, dressed as Moana, at his side and two heaping plates of snacks in his hands until his chair scraped gratingly across the hardwood floor. 

"Kie, are you seeing this? Pigs must be flying 'cause they're actually smiling at each other." Mason said, cackling as Kiara turned to squint out the window.

"Yeah, I think I see one or two soaring around out there." She giggled and sent a mischievous wink in your direction. With your face feeling like it was on fire, you flipped them both the bird and took off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving all your traitorous, confusing thoughts about JJ behind with the boy himself; it was Rafe's last party at the Club and he owed you a dance anyway, but even as your best friend's older brother, cute as hell in his Thor costume, playfully twirled you around the floor to the Ghostbusters theme song, you felt more than your partner's blue eyes on you.

To no one's surprise, you and JJ won the duo category for the second year in a row and when you joined him onstage to collect your prize and didn't feel like you'd rather die than be up there by his side, you suddenly realized you were only certain about two things in life instead of three. 

At seventeen, you were confident you and JJ wouldn't be matching for once (after last year, though, you were kind of thinking it wouldn't be that bad of a thing). You'd gone cult classic for your costume, pulling inspiration from your mom's favorite move, 1999's The Mummy, and put together a screen-accurate Evelyn Carnahan in her iconic black dress, including a handmade Book of the Dead and matching key. You blackmailed Mason with pictures of him, drunk as a skunk and dressed in your Janine costume from the previous year, and got him to go as Jonathan, complete with a pith helmet and prop bottle of The Glenlivet.  

But, as always, JJ managed to surprise you. You literally ran right into his chest and if it wasn't for his arms instantly wrapping tight around your waist, you would've bit it hard.

"Whoa, careful there," He said, one hand keeping you close while the other moved to help you hold the book in your arms. "'The Book of the Dead? Are you sure you wanna be messing around with this thing?'"

Of course he'd make the perfect Rick O'Connell, you thought as you playfully raised one eyebrow and curled your fingers around the strap of the gun holster draped over his shoulder. "'It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a book.'"

Mason was a little too in character as well as he dramatically rolled his eyes and wandered off, muttering "puh-lease" under his breath and shooting Sarah a conspiratorial wink that you didn't see. The blonde girl glanced between the two of you -arms still around each other and identical smiles on your faces- and grinned. The party flew by in a blur of movie quotes, laughs, and more dances than you could count and by the time you made it home, 50 bucks in the pocket of your dress and another group costume win under your belt, you were almost positive you never actually hated JJ Maybank in the first place.

Now at eighteen, you pulled out all the stops for your last party at the Island Club. You'd spent the last few months slaving over your costume, sewing custom pieces, hand-crafting your prop, and spending way too much money on body makeup and a wig but when you saw the final product in the mirror, you knew it was all worth it. You were ready to slay the competition this year and take home first place for the final time.

Mason, indifferent as always about the contest but willing to do anything to keep those pictures from seeing the light of day, didn't protest one bit when you forced him into the matching costume you'd made for him -in typical Mason fashion, he liked that he didn't have to wear a shirt and could show off his muscles- and spent a few hours perfecting his makeup.

You felt on top of the world when you walked into the party that night as Gamora, a replica of her Godslayer sword in hand and skin painted a perfect shade of green, followed by your brother as Drax, already flexing for anyone and everyone looking his way. The rest of your friends came to win as well: John B and Sarah as Flynn Rider and Rapunzel, Kiara as Eleven, Pope as T'Challa, and, of course, JJ as Peter Quill, Baby Groot perched on his shoulder and twin blasters at his hips. 

"Lookin' good, Gamora!" He called over the music, shimmying his way over to you with some dance moves that would impress Star-Lord himself.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Quill." You replied in a sing-song voice, even as you took his outstretched hand and let him pull you into the crowd of bodies hopping up and down to some terrible EDM beat under the twirling disco ball.

"It got you out here with me, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes and hooked the sword to your belt before stepping closer and draping your arms around his neck, twirling your painted fingers in his hair. "Just remember, 'I know who you are, Peter Quill. And I'm not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your pelvic sorcery.'"

You should've known you spoke too soon the second you saw the spark in JJ's eyes that all but screamed 'wanna bet?'

And that's how you found yourself in the middle of the single hottest make out session you'd ever had the pleasure of participating in an hour later: back pressed against the locked door of someone's deserted office, legs wrapped tight around his waist and his hands hooked under your ass, both your sword and his blasters abandoned on the floor at his feet, and he was either a sinfully good kisser or trying really, really hard to blow your mind.  

"I'm not gonna end up green after this, am I?" He mumbled against your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw and you breathed a laugh, tightening your grip on his hair.

"This is professional makeup, dumbass. It's gonna take more than some kissing to smudge it."

"I'm down for some smudging if you are." 

You pulled him back for another kiss in response and gasped into his mouth when he walked across the room, one strong arm reaching out to sweep whatever was on the desk to the floor before setting you down on it.

"Confident, are we?" 

JJ smirked at your breathless question and the way you hooked your ankles around the backs of his thighs to pull him closer. "So is that a yes to the smudging?"

"Just shut up and kiss me." 

He did -very well, you might add- and you kissed him back, untangling your hands from his hair to slide them under his jacket instead; you helped him push it off his shoulders and it had barely hit the ground along with poor Baby Groot before your fingers were tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants.  

"Someone's impatient." He teased, leaning back just far enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it somewhere behind you.

"Someone doesn't know how to stop talking." You whispered your reply low in his ear and then trailed your lips down his neck, smiling in satisfaction at the tremble in his voice when you kissed the purple mark you'd left behind earlier.

"N-never was very good at that." 

"'You should've learned.'"

"'I don't learn, it's one of my issues.'"

One of his hands gripped your wig, pulling your head back a little roughly -you'd have so been into that if it had been your real hair he pulled- and you winced at the way the bobby pins holding it it place tugged painfully at your roots. "Ow, not so hard!"

"Wait, what the fuck? I thought you were wearing a wig!" 

"I am but it's still pinned to my actual hair!"

"Sorry, but how the hell was I supposed to know that?"

The sight of JJ's face slowly turning red made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire and so you just shook your head, mumbling "don't worry about it," before pressing your lips to his once again. He was gentler this time with the pulling and you dug your nails into his bare shoulders at the thrill of his mouth against the exposed column of your throat, leaning back further and further until you laid flat on the desk.

His fingers had just unbuttoned your pants when your phone started to ring from your pocket, blaring the Star Wars theme you had set as your twin's ringtone. 

"Mason's timing is impeccable," JJ said sarcastically, chuckling as you clamped a palm over his mouth and answered the call.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Jesus, no need to be pissy!" Mason loudly replied over the applause crackling through the phone's speaker. "I just thought you'd like to know that we just won best group costume with Maybank. Again." 

The blond winked at the mention of his last name and pulled your hand away from his mouth, pinning it to the desk beside you with one of his while the other started tugging your pants down over your hips.

"Oh, that's cool, Mase-" You inhaled sharply when his lips touched the edge of your underwear, so close to where you wanted him most but at the same time so far away, and your fingers held your phone in a white-knuckled grip. "But I-I'm kind of in the middle of doing someone -something!- right now."

"Smooth," JJ said, not even trying to be quiet as he released your pinned hand to finish pulling your boots off, along with your tight leather pants that he casually tossed aside. "And I knew you weren't green under these!" 

Your laugh quickly turned into a gasp when his fingers hooked under your panties and pulled those off, too, and the touch of his tongue against the skin of your inner thigh sent white-hot lightning racing through your veins; the phone slipped from your grip, falling with a clunk onto the desk as your fingers tangled in his hair and he lifted one of your knees over his shoulder.

"Okay, I'm hanging up now! I already know you're getting laid but I don't need to hear it." Mason's loud grumble drifted up through the speaker and if you weren't so preoccupied with the boy between your thighs doing some downright wicked things to you with his mouth, you might've noticed that your brother didn't actually sound that grumpy before he ended the call and your phone's screen went dark, right as you lost control of your voice.

"Fuck me."

"Funny, I thought that's what I was doing?" You felt more than heard his response against you and a shiver ran down your spine when his bright blue eyes flicked up to met yours in the dim light of the office.

"You know what I meant, Maybank."

"Trust me, Y/L/N, I know. Question is: where do you want me?"

You tugged on his hair, grinning wolfishly at the way his eyes fluttered closed and a low moan rose from his throat. "Everywhere in this damn room, starting right here."

"I was hoping you’d say that.”

- Back at the party, Mason looked up and met Sarah's gaze, both of her eyebrows raised expectantly as she asked, "Well?"

He took his time slipping his phone back into his pocket before giving her a quick nod, grinning triumphantly when she immediately burst into gleeful giggles.  

"Yes! I just knew they had a thing for each other! Mortal enemies, my ass."

"I think that was the very first time in my sister's life that she didn't give a shit about the contest." Mason said and reached over to snag a cookie from her plate, chuckling when she pushed his hand away from the chocolate chip ones and toward the peanut butter. "We couldn't have pulled this off without you. I mean, making sure they showed up in matching costumes every year? Genius, Sarah. Absolutely genius." 

The blonde girl grabbed her own cookie with a wink. "Think they'll ever figure it out?"

Your brother just threw his head back and laughed. "I hope not! I wanna save that story for my best man speech at their wedding."

taglist: @sinkbeneathwaves @cordeliascrown @maysbanks @jjpogueprincess @jiaraendgame @alexa-playafricabytoto @sexualparkour @agirlwholovescoffee​ 

[dangermousie]

2020 End of Year Post - kdrama edition

You can find my 2020 cdrama post here: dangermousie.tumblr.com/post/638449659546845184/2020-end-of-year-post-cdrama-edition

This is only going to cover kdramas that aired in 2020; if it originally aired another year, it’s not on this list.

It’s been a pretty lackluster kdrama year. There are probably only 5 kdramas I truly loved and only three of them I was really obsessed over. Better luck in 2021!

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

42 Born Again - so bad, so incoherent, so insane, I have no idea why the leads signed up for it (and unlike some of the other watchers, I think it was awful from the very start.) There is literally nothing about this drama that makes sense.

41 Love with Flaws - a bunch of people who should be tried under the Geneva Convention.

40 Sweet Munchies - Jung Il Woo proves his inability to pick a functional script.

39 Meow the Secret Boy - if you ever wanted to bang a cat, this drama is for you. Not being a furry, however...

38 Do Do Sol Sol La Sol - I lost braincells just typing out this title.

37 When I Was the Most Beautiful - the only way it’s not the dumbest, most pointless melo of 2020 is because Born Again considerately came out the same year.

36 Woman of 9.9 Billion - if you want to watch an artsy French movie about miserable people, but only badly made, boy do I have a drama for you.

35 Lies after Lies - screams after screams.

34 Backstreet Rookie - people were up in arms about various problematic plots. I am a survivor of many plots much more problematic but even I couldn’t survive how utterly boring and annoying this drama was and how utterly irritating the leads were. This has taken Ji Chang Wook off my top favorites into “should I even check his latest Lovestruck in the City? Probably not” territory almost single-handedly (Melt Me helped, to be fair.)

33 Men Are Men - boring is boring.

32 Dinner Mate - two beautiful boring people eat out a lot.

31 Was It Love - no it wasn’t.

30 Alice - Joo Won in the shower can make up for a multitude of sins but not plot nonsense of such magnitude. When you find yourself thinking it would be better if he hooked up with the alternate universe version of his mother because at least then something entertaining would happen, you know it’s bad.

29 More than Friends - started out OK, then made me hate basically everyone and kept going.

28 Start-Up - honestly, it’s probably more decent than its place here, but the toxic and batshit fandom for it (the worst this year) made me feel like breaking out in hives any time it’s even mentioned.

27 The Spies who Loved Me - how to take a good cast and waste it.

26 Private Lives - it was good but it never took off with its concept and spent more time on the incoherent plot than the OTP which was its one strength. It’s a decent drama but coming after Heartless City and My Beautiful Bride from the same writer, it’s a disappointment.

25 Record of Youth - as high as it is due to Park Bo Gum hard carrying this entire awful drama on his shoulders and doing it so well I finished it. Alas, while he is in one drama (and that drama is great), the rest of the characters and the entirety of the script are a pointless useless mess.

24 Do You Like Brahms - excellent first third, mediocre middle, and terrible last third. I don’t know what musical term applies to this? Diminuendo, I think.

23 I’ll Go to You When the Weather is Nice - nice and mellow but nothing much happens.

22 Forest - mainly for Park Hae Jin’s excellent and frequently naked bod.

21 The Ballot - I didn’t love it as much as everyone did but it was well-made.

20 Hyena - more romance and less weird law stuff would make it better.

19 365 Repeat the Year - surprisingly solid.

18 The Game Towards Zero - see 365.

17 When My Love Blooms - very old fashioned, very lovely.

16 Chocolate - also very old fashioned and very lovely but also with Yoon Kye Sang performing medical procedures bleeding and shirtless. MMM.

15 (tie) Secret Royal Inspector - a fun if run of the mill sageuk.

15 Find Me In Your Memory - best melo this year.

14 Mystic Pop Up Bar - surprisingly good even though I wasn’t planning to check it out.

13 Where Your Eyes Linger - came out of nowhere but was tender and hopeful and lovely.

12 Itaewon Class - Park Seo Joon hard carries a drama that is already excellent. Love it.

11 Psychopath Diary - Yoon Shi Yoon is such a treat in a hilarious, cynical, dark comedy.

10 Kairos - more like ouroboros.

9 Queen Love and War - in a year where sageuks are very rare, this was solid and surprisingly moving and shippy.

8 The King Eternal Monarch - people didn’t like it but I did. It’s no masterpiece and both the leads and the writers have better dramas, but it was a lovely romantic fairy tale for me.

7 Mr. Queen - sharp, hilarious, and some of my favorite actors.

6 Psycho But It’s OK - healing, sharp cinematography and even sharper chemistry.

5 Crash Landing on You - the last ep pissed me off so much this drama is dead to me but I loved it so much until then I can’t place it lower in good conscience.

4 Train - who knew I would go this hard for an OCN drama or that OCN would do romance so well? But this time-travel mystery romance is just incredible and I shipped the OTP and rooted for the characters and loved every last bit of it.

3 Run On - this is the drama Record of Youth wanted to be but failed. Smart and lived in, you feel like you are peeking at real people, but also even four episodes in, I am so invested in the main characters separately and together, and care for them so much, it’s a little frightening.

1 (tie) Tale of the Nine Tailed - my perfect fantasy romance. I liked it better than Goblin, yeah I said it.

1 Flower of Evil - all the tropes I love in one incredible package. I would rewatch episodes waiting for new ones trying to puzzle the story and to stay withdrawal but it works just as well on rewatch. Lee Jun Ki brings his trademark tortured intensity and for once, both his leading lady and his script back him up and are worthy of that. It’s perfect.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It’s a tie between Tale of the Nine Tailed and Flower of Evil but if I had to pick just one, FoE, because it had me seriously obsessed and guessing about the protagonist and gave me the narrative tropes I love so much and an OTP that statisfied all my hurt/comfort kinks and then some.

WORST DRAMA

Born Again - honestly, this is so bonkers it almost becomes good but alas...

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Do Hyun Soo/Baek Hee Sung, Flower of Evil - he is so messed up, so on edge, so traumatized. Yet capable of so much warmth and caring even as he himself doesn’t realize his humanity. FoE is basically a story of a man pushed and punished by the world for his entire life who, because of one woman, finds a safe place and peace and slowly comes to life without realizing it, and watching his desperation to keep this small bit of normalcy is so heartbreaking and exciting all at once. Plus, you start the drama thinking he’s a psychopathic serial killer and end it (if you are me) thinking he must be protected at all costs and if anyone even looks at him wrong they must suffer, and that’s quite a change!

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Nam Ji Ah, Tale of the Nine Tailed - she is so funny and tough and smart and loving and amazing that I will totally buy that a literal demi-god will do anything and everything for her and love her for literal eternity.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Dad in Record of Youth - yes in a year with serial killers and supernatural demons, I picked a normal character from a mediocre drama. It’s his everyday awfulness to his family that hits so hard and I am sad he never got his comeuppance.

FAVORITE SHIP

Ji Ah x Yeon - a fearless reporter and an immortal demi-god who’s been hoping for his human beloved to reincarnate. A really rare set-up where the OTP is equally ride or die, so compatible and completely BAMF. I got why he waited for her for that long and then fell in love with her all over again. Perfection.

Runner up: Flower of Evil - he is so messed up he literally does not believe he is capable of love or empathy, but he falls in love with her anyway and so utterly she permeates his entire life. She is tough as nails and only believes what she sees and is the sole person who believes in him against the world. She loves him but he needs her. She needs him but he loves her. They are amazing.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Seo Dan x Gu Seung Jun, Crash Landing on You, North Korean x Conman were so good I shipped them harder than the main OTP and the end of that storyline pissed me off so much I dumped the drama and didn’t finish it for months (and it’s still dead to me.)

NOTP

Record of Youth - it started out and they didn’t have much chemistry but the dialogues were interesting and I thought the chemistry would grow. It didn’t and deteriorated, their dialogues became boring and relationship had zero development (about as much as the supposed female lead.) I think we were supposed to feel bad they broke up and they were going for a bittersweet open ending, instead I found myself happy about the break up of two incompatible, chemistry-less people and hoping for the love of God they never get back together.

FAVORITE SCENE

Yeon and the bridge of knives, Tale of the Nine Tailed - Yeon choosing to undergo the creeptastic bridge of knives for a chance to save Ji Ah, who at that point he is not aware is the reincarnation of his Joseon love because, as he says, he doesn’t care if she is or isn’t, it just would be more horrible to have her die than to undergo the horrific torture he is undergoing, and then the sequence with his catching her, her weeping over him and the fact that she is the original Joseon girl revealed and all the bandaging and his watching her sleep and all that loveliness, is everything for yours truly.

Runner up: Hyun Soo having that break-down at the cliff at the end of ep 15 of Flower of Evil as Ji Won desperately tries to convince him she is alive and he finally stumbles to her.

Runner runner up (it’s my list, I will do what I want): Do Won preparing to blow his brains out to give a chance to Seo Kyung to live in Train.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Seon-Gyeom, Run On. Yeah, I know. Im Siwan is tiny, delicate featured and has a runner’s build, none of which are things that normally appeal to me. But his character is so odd, so honest, so unflinching in pursuing what he thinks is right, so incapable of self-pity despite plenty of reasons for it, and so ridiculously attractive when he smiles, I don’t even care.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Kim Bum, TotNT - I started out being annoyed by him and ended up looking forward to his scenes and being distraught by his ending.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

Honestly, none. I was fine with all the endings. I wouldn’t mind seeing post-end life of Tale of the Nine Tailed characters or the OTP settling into their literal new world in Train, but I am good.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Time jump that solves all the problems off screen or alternatively years pass and everyone is frozen - something that kdramas need to learn and need to learn badly. See Record of Youth, Brahms and Start Up.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Men who are ride or die for their OTP - this was a great year for this - the male leads of four of my five dramas were beyond anything on that scale (only exception is Run On because it’s still too early to tell there.) Yes PLEASE.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

This was a banner year for that what with Start Up, Do You Like Brahms, Record of Youth, and Private Lives all starting out well and nosediving off the cliff but winner is Crash Landing on You. I loved it so much for bulk of its run but the last episode pissed me off so much I deleted all my files and called it a day.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

Flower of Evil - I had no expectations of this drama and wasn’t even planning on watching it despite liking both the lead actors because yet another “look at evil serial killer be evil” drama with no romance was not my thing. Luckily someone convinced me there might be some romance and I peeked curiously. Honestly, their promo campaign was the most misleading and dumbest thing ever.

Runner up Psycho but it’s OK - I have never liked Kim Soo Hyun in anything before and the drama premise seemed WTF but it was shockingly good and KSH totally blew me away.

Hardest Working Lead

Yoon Shi Yoon - he starred in two (!!!) dramas in 2020 playing three characters and not only were both these dramas awesome in a lackluster year, but if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew it was the same actor and the fact that the characters shared a face, I would have never believed that they were played by the same actor. So good!

2020 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

None. Covid Year gave me PLENTY of time

BEST NON-2020 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2020

My Beautiful Bride and Deserving of the Name - I was obsessed with both of them and honestly, they were much better than the bulk of 2020 kdramas I watched.

MOST ANTICIPATED IN 2021

The Moon That Rises in the Day, Hong Chun Gi, Joseon Exorcist, Island,  Frightening Cohabitation, Snowdrop.

[heyovivi]

Miryam and Drakon

Okay there a few things that stick out to me when it comes to the story of Miryam and Drakon and how they won the war and defeated the Queen of the Black Lands.

So, in my humble opinion Miryam and Drakon’s story is loosely reminiscent of ACTOAR’s sister series, Throne of Glass, while also having hints of the story of Moses sprinkled in as well (especially when they split the sea to escape the Queen’s forces so the slaves of the Black Lands could be free from her tyrannical rule).

Now first I’m going to recite the story as best I can with what limited knowledge there is in the books.

From what we know, Miryam was a half-fae half-human slave born in to the Black Lands under the tyrannical rule of a blood thirsty Queen. Upon the Queen's engagement to Prince Drakon (of the Seraphim), she gifted Miryam to him, allowing him to finally see the true nature of his betrothed. Soon after, Drakon set Miryam free and fled the Queen as well, joining forces with Jurian three years afterwards who by that time was in a relationship with Miryam.

After fleeing the Black Lands, Miryam joins up with human rebels led by Jurian. As the wars drags on, Miryam and Jurian become lovers and she also builds budding relationships with members of Rhysand's Inner Circle, Morrigan being one of Miryam's most notable companions through the war.

Three years after breaking his engagement to the Queen and searching for Miryam, Drakon allies himself with Jurian's forces and during one battle he is struck and Miryam, who is a healer among Jurian's ranks, tends to his wounds.

As the war continued, Jurian concocted a plan to seduce Clythia, a general to Hybern's legions and the sister of Amarantha. Depending on whose telling the story, whether it be Mor or Jurian, Miryam was fine with the arrangement and encouraged him to do so if it meant the freedom of her people. However, Mor suggests otherwise and that Jurian's relationship with Clythia and changes in his attitude is what ultimately led to Miryam leaving him. Either way, after Miryam broke things off, and later fell in love with Drakon who already had feelings for her at that point. Soon after, they discovered that they were mates and got married the same night Clythia was killed by Jurian.

Seeking revenge, Amarantha kidnapped Miryam, hoping to lure Drakon, however Rhysand risked his neck in hopes to let her get away and in return most of his legions got killed and the rest, including him, were captured and tortured by Amarantha.

Towards the end of the war, Miryam, along with Drakon, his army, and Morrigan, marched into the Black land to free the human slaves. After successfully breaching the Queen's forces they marched their people through the desert and to the Erythrian Sea, where their ships were destroyed by the Queen of the Black Lands. With the Queen's forces on their tails, Drakon and his soldiers used magic to split the sea, clearing a pathway through for the slaves to escape while he and his men fended off the Queen's coming army. However, Miryam refused to flee, and followed Drakon into battle where she struck by a spear thrown by the Queen herself.

As the magic wore off the sea came crashing down, Miryam was rescued by Nephelle who carried her to safety. Despite her efforts though, Miryam bled out from her wound, and Drakon, knowing of a sacred island that harbored a powerful object made by the Cauldron, saved Miryam from death and used the object to resurrect her, turning her into a Fae.

Afterward, Miryam and Drakon let the world believe that the sea claimed their lives but instead they lived peacefully away with only members of the Inner Circle knowing the truth of their continued existence on Cretea.

"I fought side by side with Miryam in the War, fought beside her as Jurian's ambition and bloodlust drove him mad, and drove them apart. Drove him to torture Clythia to death, then battle Amarantha until his own...I marched back into Black Land with Miryam to free the slaves left in that burning sand. The slavery she had herself escaped. The slaves Miryam had promised to return to free. I marched with her--my friend. Along with Prince Drakon's forces legion. Miryam was my friend, as Feyre is now..." (Morrigan, A Court of Mist and Fury, pg. 388)

Now it is entirely possible we don't have the full story and it is possible we won't get the full story. However, I firmly believe that the next books are going to be first, Azriel, second, the novella which will probably focus mainly around Mor, and then finally Elain.

Now, if Azriel's story is focused mainly around the Illyrian conflict then it is somewhat hard to decipher where the story may go afterwards. However, I do think that SJM purposefully structures her novellas as the blueprint for future books. So, if the next novella is Mor's then perhaps we'll get more to the story of her past, I.E. the war.

Now, it could all just be oversight but there are so many unanswered questioned when it comes to Drakon and Miryam's tale.

Such as what was the object made by the Cauldron that healed Miryam and turned her fae?

You can't tell me that Drakon just happens to know of a magical item stashed at some unnamed island that can just happen to heal any wound. Plus it was made by the Cauldron so does that essentially mean that this mysterious object is a dead trove? Perhaps the fourth? Many have speculated that the mysterious unnamed object at the top of Ramiel could also be the fourth dead trove but I find it interesting that the unnamed cure Drakon used was also made by the Cauldron and also exhibits it's power of reanimation. Then for some reason it's never mentioned again.

Not even when Feyre was dying at the end of ACOSF due to her high risk pregnancy.

This could either be because SJM forgot that she wrote in there or maybe there are limits to the objects power.

Next questioned.

The Queen of the Black Lands.

She definitely gives me Maeve vibes but one thing is clear: we don't know if she died. In the books it never specifies whether she died and I think someone named the Queen of the Black Lands would play a more prominent role.

I also think that it's very interesting how her territory now belongs to the human queens, especially Queen Vassa.

The Black Lands were described to border on the southern parts of the Continent and what is a Queen without her territory. More importantly who might she had gone to for help?

Now, at this point I'm throwing a theory out but by this time Koschei would've already been on his island--probably already planning his escape. Who knows, maybe there is a reason why he specifically turned Vassa into a bird of fire. It's easy to assume that the other Queens would quickly fall in line as long as they get their promise of youth and power, but Vassa wasn't so easy to convince making her an obstacle. Perhaps the Queen of the Black Lands is still alive and working with the enemy to reclaim her throne.

But then that begs the question of who is the Queen of the Black Lands.

[schrijverr]

Promises You Made to Me

Chapter 3 out 3

Aragorn falls for Boromir on their journey. When they realize they share their affection, they also know that the time is not now to act upon them. Both promise to share love once they see the quest done, a promise that long seems a broken oath. Still, the horn was heard in more lands and the Elves have not yet forsaken this world

A Boromir lives AU where they fall in love before Boromir falls at Amon Hen, but Aragorn only learns of his survival after the defeat of Sauron.

On AO3.

Ships: Aragorn x Boromir

Warnings: grief, guilt and mentions of bad coping

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: But I’ll Walk with You, my Love

The battle was won, Middle Earth was saved. It was a time for celebration, but for Aragorn there was little to celebrate.

He was to take the throne that had been empty for thousands of years and the one person who should have been there to see it was not. He still did not know whether he would have proved himself if Boromir had lived, but he was confident in the final judgment of the man.

No, it was a promise dual made that ghosted his steps. Had Boromir lived, today would be the day they could have seen what happened to the spark that never got the chance to burn.

Aragorn wondered in sleepless nights if the spark would have survived the many hardships of the road or if they would have arrived here as friends. His heart told him that he could have never loved anyone like he had loved the Son of Gondor, yet he knew not for sure if Boromir would have felt the same.

Grief colored the white halls with black and gray. With wars passed and therebuilding barely started, the mourning he had not the mind to fully feel before, caught up to him.

The steadily recovering Faramir trailed his every move as next Steward in line now that his family line hinged on him. At Aragorn’s request, he told him many a tale of his youth, so that every hall was filled with a young, happy Boromir for Aragorn’s heart to ache for.

He walked through the courtyard where Boromir had told him of many restless nights where he walked alone over stone and Faramir had enlightened him to the annoying two little boys with wooden swords.

The White City breathed the life Boromir just as Boromir had lived and breathed Minas Tirith.

If this were to be his home till the end of his days, then he would have to learn to live with memories passed and new memories that could never be. His own would override Boromir’s and he feared that his presence might scrub Boromir’s soul out of his City.

That would be an impossible feat, he knew. The people of Gondor had not forgotten their other Steward’s Son and if Aragorn listened closely, he could hear his name among the people. Yet there was no monument for Gondor’s finest. Not yet.

He wanted to return to Amon Hen, to look for the Evenstar and signs of what had happened to Boromir, but he was bound by a duty he had long evaded and could not now abandon.

On the day of his coronation, the White City was adorned with happy folk and it was hard not to get infected with the pleased crowd around him. It was a trait of the City that had been reflected in Boromir, for his energy was infectious also.

“Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta,” he sang his oath to his people, trying his own Elven roots to his new life as King, before walking down the path created for him.

Legolas met him with a procession of Elves, many he recognized from his days in Rivendell. Arwen was noticeably absent and Aragorn mourned that he had missed her departure, yet Elrond’s presence was a welcome one. He did an Elvish greeting: “My Lord Elrond,” then he smiled, “Ada.”

Elrond smiled back and handed him the banner of the King. “Arwen made this for you, before she left. She believed in your Kingship and so do I. I am proud of you, Estel.” He hugged Aragorn and Aragorn leaned into the contact grateful for the support of Elrond. As he hugged, however, the Elven Lord whispered: “Look for the other Elven company traveling from the North.”

He could not ask what the Elf had meant, for the procession moved past him so that he continue and there was no time.

Later Elrond would say no more, claiming that it was not his role to enlighten him and that Aragorn should not get needlessly distracted from his duties as King. Still Aragorn looked to the North each morning, gazing into the distance as if it would bring him answers to questions not asked aloud.

He kept up the habit after Elrond left.

The rebuilding of Minas Tirith was steadily happening and Aragorn was feeling more at ease with his Kingly obligations. Gondor was returning to life after survival. Her former glory was being restored, silently Aragorn grieved for Boromir, who would not get to see her beauty again.

It was shortly after the final stones of the wall had been laid again and her gates were replaced that the Elven company appeared on the horizon as Aragorn looked North in the morn. They were dressed in cloaks of grey that signaled their origin lay in Lothlórien.

Aragorn was curious what the Lady of Light could bring to him that Elrond wished not to reveal to him. He donned the still slightly foreign clothes and descended down the levels, awaiting the arrival of the Elves on the plaza behind the gates.

The people, who saw him there bowed respectfully, but he heard the whispers of curiosity about his presence and that of the Elves.

When they had arrived over the path, it was already nearing mid day and Aragorn had not strayed from his post,ordering the gates to be opened. Silently the Elves rode into the White City. He faintly recognized some faces from his time spend there, but one remained hooded.

Only when the hooded figure slipped of his horse and came before him, did he look up. Slowly, he removed cloth hiding his face to reveal the ghost that had haunted him for so long had returned to life, for it was Boromir that greeted him, unsure smile on his face.

No hardship in his long-life could have prepared him for the mirage of emotions that washed of Aragorn in that moment.

His disbelief, happiness and anger warred inside his chest and he choked on his own spit as he searched for words. Why had Boromir not contacted him before? How had he lived? What did this mean for them both?

“Boromir.”

In the end he decided there was nothing else he could say, for all words had left him and none seemed fit for the moment. He pulled himinto his arms, crushing him so tightly he would be worried for the health of the other had he not been so occupied with hugging him, with proving he was real and not another shadow in his mind.

Two hands clutched tightly to the clothes on his back tying him to the now and when he breathed he could smell the forest of Lórien and the familiar scent of home comprised of sweat, metal and leather.

He had not known that he knew Boromir’s smell, but when it hit him he knew it was him and no one could have replaced him.

It was Boromir. Actual Boromir, here in his arms alive and well. He was not dead, but he was alive and Aragorn could not yet emotionally comprehend that Boromir was there, only that his heart felt too small for all that it felt.

“Hey, Aragorn, my King, no need for tears,” the soothing voice he knew so well whispered in his ear and it was only when Boromir cupped his face between his hands and wiped away the tears that he realized he’d even been crying.

The words did not help, only cemented more all that he felt and could not name. His crying turned into heaving sobs as he hugged Boromir tighter, as impossible at that seemed.

“You’re alive,” he replied after he had cried himself hoarse in Boromir’s arms, an obvious statement, yet still one that held so many mysteries.

“Aye, I am,” Boromir agreed. “Yet, I knew that not when we parted. It was a surprise for me too when I awoke. You saved me.”

He saved him. The words struck a chord in Aragorn’s soul. Since it had happened, he had blamed himself for letting Boromir die, for not doing more, for leaving him. Yet here he was, still alive and warm, telling him that it was he, who had saved him.

His knees buckled under him. A corner of his mind told him that as a King, he should not act like this in public, but that thought was squashed under the barrage of emotions and feelings that caught up to him and overwhelmed him as the world slid out of focus.

Boromir steadied him, having his back and being the person he could lean on as if he had never left his side. “I can tell you more later, but why don’t we get you seated for now? Would that be okay… love?”

The pet name snapped him back to the present. All the musings and doubts he’d had about the spark that had never left him, had wrapped itself in grief and fantasies that would never come and were clouded with memories young and old. But now Boromir was alive and it was not just his heart that beat for the them that had not yet been.

There was no time forfear or doubt to bubble up, for Boromir looked at him with those eyes and the pet name was so hesitantly said, because Boromir was also unsure of where they stood, he also did not know what they would do, just that he loved him and wanted it.

But they could figure that out together now.

They had a future and they could try to see if the they, he and Boromir had dreamed off could flourish in times of peace. A new age had dawned and they could meet it together.

Without thinking Aragorn kissed him.

Boromir’s beard was slightly longer and he felt his moustache like he hadn’t done before, but hislips were still slightly chapped and firm. Boromirrelaxed into the kiss quickly and was again the first to swipe his tongue across Aragorn’s lips.

Aragorn lost himself into the sensations he had often dreamed about, but could never fully recall again. Yet here was that same calloused hand cupping his cheek so gently and he felt as if he could survive without breath if he could live like this forever.

It was only when Boromir broke to kiss to catch their breath that they realized a crowd had gathered around them. The King and foreign company had enticed enough commotion, but the return of a hero from the dead was certainly notable, not to mention the emotional reunion between him and their King.

There were jeers and cheers all around them. Aragorn wanted to hide his face, knowing his cheeks would be tinted red and did so in Boromir’s shoulder. Yet the Son of Gondor was at ease around his people, accepting Aragorn’s hiding spot as he smiled and waved.

Word had spread fast through the City and before Aragorn could even think of moving away from the prying eyes, Faramir came running down, no horse just his own two legs that had carried him downwards from the Citadel to see the miraculous return.

Aragorn knew when Boromir had spotted him, because the one hand on his back left, so that he could greet Faramir with both: “Brother!”

Knowing when it was time to step back, Aragorn did. Though he did not stray far from Boromir’s side as he hugged his brother tightly. There were many emotions running high, yet instead of the gentleness he had displayed for Aragorn, to his brother Boromir jested: “What has become of Minas Tirith that the King would await me, but not her Steward.”

“A Minas Tirith where her King disappears without notice to await an unknown company, I would say,” Faramir grinned back without heat as Aragorn ducked his head. “It is good to see you, Boromir. We thought you dead. How did you live?”

“It is a long story and not one for telling on the front porch,” Boromir said, conscious of the crowd around them. “The Elves were a great help and healed me. That is the basics. Let us now drink something and eat. We have a long road behind us.”

Faramir was much better at the ways of the court, having grown up around them. He sprung into action, getting the Elves up the levels to accommodations, while Aragorn walked beside Boromir and his horse.

As they walked, Aragorn followed Boromir blindly, trusting Boromir to lead them home while in the distance the trumpets rang. He did not let his gaze wander away from his face, afraid he would disappear the moment he did.

There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, a million things he wanted to tell him. Yet the only thing he said to Boromir suddenly was: “I am sorry.”

Boromir’s step faltered for a moment, before he looked at Aragorn with concerned confusion. Then he asked: “What for?” as if it was the most simple thing in the world. As if Aragorn had not spend sleepless nights musing all the things he had done wrong.

It must have shown on his face, for Boromir smiled at him. It was not his boisterous grin or proud smile, but a gentle one, one Aragorn had only seen in Lothlórien. “You did nothing you have to apologize for. It is I, who has to atone for what I did, yet my heart can not stop being selfish and hope to proclaim itself to be yours.”

“You have not to atone either,” Aragorn spoke fiercely. He had heard those desolate tones from Boromir once before and he would not let him speak like that again. “I meant what I said and this war has taken enough from all. We won. You played your part diligently and I will not have you tarnish your return to me by self-doubt that is undeserved. And you are not selfish, for if you are then so am I.”

“Huh,” said Boromir, “you are not the Ranger I parted with. The King I saw shining through form time to time has fully inhabited his glory. There is a confidence in your speech that was not there before.”

Aragorn was taken by surprise by the observation. He had known that he had changed through his harrowing journey to Minas Tirith and the Black Gate, but he was connected still to his past in such a manner that he had not divorced himself from the person Boromir knew. To have it pointed out to him, was strange.

Yet, Boromir was not the man he had left on Amon Hen either. His manner was proud, yes, but he had not the burdens that had forced him to be so. He was calmer and had gained some of the Elven pace in life that was familiar to Aragorn in a way the lively City was not.

It seemed both had adapted to the new circumstance they had found themselves in and in turn had gained something of the other.

Still, the Boromir of old was still to be found. His handsome face had stayed unchanged and as they walked he pointed out historical buildings along with places tied to himselfwith an enthusiasm that rivaled Merry talking of Old Toby. And every time Aragorn seemed to fumble, a hand was lend to him in aid.

Another thing that was old, but new sinceAragorn had never gotten to witness it,was Boromir amongst his people. And it was a sight to behold.

The people greeted him as a long lost friend that they held in high regard. He was not just their Lord and protector, but their faithful, friendly guard also. As they called out to him, he returned most by name. The observation Aragorn had first made of him, stayed true here. It was hard not to like Boromir and that was felt through all the streets.

Journeying to the Citadel from the gates lasted eternally long, but the time passed in a flash, until they were seated in Aragorn’s office, ready to hear the tale of Boromir’s survival.

“I recall little of the events themselves,” Boromir began. “Flashes and pieces stay with me, but the Elves told me most after I had awoken. I suppose I should start when we parted ways, Aragorn.” He gave him a look and Aragorn nodded.

“I only remember us talking, yet some of the words escape me. In my mind the only clear thing is your face, there are tears in your eyes and pain I cannot soothe,” said Boromir. “I tried, but I could not move to change it. The clearest words are you promising that the White City would not fall if you could stop it and me naming you my King.”

Aragorn remembered the moment clearly, remembered the three names Boromir assigned him there and the desperation he felt as he tried to give Boromir enough hope to cling to life. A moment he remembered failing in. “I remember that moment, my medicine was not enough to save you. You were fading under my hands and nothing I could do was helping.”

Faramir followed the conversation closely. Aragorn had only briefly told him of what happened at Amon Hen and his brother’s demise. Pippin and Frodo had also filled in some blanks, but he knew no more of the final moments of Boromir than what Aragorn had told him.

He had heard of the attempts made to save Boromir’s life, yet not of Boromir’s proclamation, nor the affection shared between them that he had seen today. Still, he had guessed it in the manner his King surrounded himself with the memory of Boromir.

Both listened closely to Boromir’s answer. “The Elves spoke of a Kingly command and an oath meant to be kept. They told me of the power that laid in the voice of the Kings of old. Oaths to them not kept, could bring unrivaled curses, while-”

“Curses?” asked Faramir.

“Isildur cursed the Dead Men of the Mountains to an enteral damnation of restlessness,” Aragorn said. “More instances have been recorded, but I do not see how that relates to you, Boromir.”

“For you two did not let me finish,” Boromir told them fondly. “The two of you jumping to your loreand questions.” At that, they all chuckled.

“A Kingly oath holds power and if a King cannot keep their word, then that is equal in its weight.” Boromir explained. “We had the luck that you told me: ‘I promise that I will try to see this quest through alive and keep you alive through it also.’ And did not say ‘try’ before my part as well. Words are a fickle things, such the Elves told me and I have learned. Meanings can be changed with intent.”

Aragorn remembered his outburst and filled in the blank. “I commanded you to live. I said that I promised to protect you and begged you to not make me an oath breaker.”

“Aye, that could have been what changed the words in the balance of the earth,” Boromir nodded after a moment of contemplation. “The Elves also said the athelas on my wounds kept me breathing until they arrived. It seemed you were not the only one, who came to the aid of Gondor when the horn was blown.”

“They transported you by boat,” Aragorn suddenly clicked the pieces together. “The horn of Gondor came to the water by hands of the Elves.”

“It has been found?” asked Boromir excitedly. “I thought it had been lost to the Orcs.”

“The horn has been found, brother,” said Faramir, “but it is cloven in two. We read it as an omen of your demise.”

“Oh,” Boromir said and Aragorn heard in that sound the guilt how something beyond his reach impacted his loved ones so. “And what of my bracers? They too disappeared.”

At that Aragorn blushed and he saw in the corner of his eye Faramir grin like a young soldier that he had only been with his brother. He nodded to Aragorn stealthily and Aragorn decided that his Steward should be more loyal than this.

“I took them,” he explained.

Boromir smiled in understanding – Aragorn loved how he got to know all the smiles his love held, now that there was again reason to smile – and fumbled under his tunic to reveal the Evenstar. “The stars of the Elves are not easily given away and I would not have it lost while under my care.”

Aragorn had no words for the affection that rushed about his heart in that moment. All he could find within himself to do, was to rush forwards and hug Boromir tightly. “Keep it safe forevermore?” he asked.

“Of course, my love,” Boromir whispered back.

They held one another like this, until a small cough from Faramir made them untangle quickly. Faramir smiled: “It is good to see you both happy. There is much I need to catch up on between you two it seems, but for now I am merely glad for you both. Still, I wish to hear more of the Elves and how you returned to us.”

“Ah, aye, of course,” said Boromir, bouncing back like a man used to getting up again. “As I stated before, I recall little. I slept for weeks, recovered tied to my bed for many more. The forest is fading, the Elves are leaving, still they cared for me until I could travel once moreand while I will never fully heal, it is so much more than I could have hoped for.”

“Never fully heal?” asked Faramir with a frown.

“Aye, my condition is not what it used to be and I feel the scars when the weather changes,” Boromir answered. “But enough about me. Many strange rumors have reached my ears when coming here, yet I know not which ones to believe. Tell me about your journey.”

First Farmir talked, he told Boromir of Minas Tirith every since he had left so many days ago. He told of the fall of Osgiliath, their father being poisoned by Sauron, the battle in the City and the rebuilding of the walls.

Boromir was quiet when he heard of their father’s fall from grace. There was pain in his eyes, yet also pity and understanding.

If history had been a little different, it would have been him, being consumed.

Aragorn took his hand. He did not care for the what-if’s of history when he had Boromir right here, untouched. He did not fall to the Ring and his own body then and Aragorn would not let him fall to his mind now.

He got a smile for his efforts, a real smile that made his eyes crinkle, as Boromir squeezed his hand. Aragorn did not yet know where they would go, but if life could be like this, then it was worth every hardship he had undergone.

They kept their fingers interlocked until Faramir was done telling himall hehad missed. Then it was up to Aragorn to fill in Boromir on all he had not witnessed of the Fellowship.

Where would be start? Would he start with how they fell apart? How Gandalf came back? Would Boromir know of that? Should he start with Rohan and Helm’s deep? Or with the march on the Black Gate and Frodo’s success?

“We went after Merry and Pippin,” he finally began at Boromir’s last mission. “Frodo was not meant for our help beyond that point and went with Sam to Mordor. Yet we could not abandon our Fellowship entirely. We crossed through Rohan to Fangorn forest in four days, yet we did not meet them again for a long time after.”

And so Aragorn told Boromir of their encounter with Éomer, Gandalf’s return, the poisoning of Théoden King, the fight of Helm’s deep and the Ents in Isengard where they were reunited with Merry and Pippin once more.

“I am glad the little ones did not make it to Isengard with those Orcs,” Boromir said. “Have they made it through the war unscathed?”

“All of the Fellowship survived, love,” Aragorn assured him. “Gimli and Legolas are traveling together now and the Hobbits have been escorted home by Gandalf himself. They are safe.”

Boromir’s was relieved at this news. Aragorn knew that it was because the Son of Gondor thought himself to be responsible of their failing as Fellowship and found he had failed the Hobbits at Amon Hen. It were demons Aragorn could not take away in a day.

“You should write them once you have rested,” Aragorn said. “Pippin especially missed you dearly as did Merry. Frodo and Sam had parted before they heard of your death, but would also love to hear of your return.”

“I do not think Frodo would wish to hear of me, Aragorn,” Boromir smirked lopsidedly, but there was no mirth to be found.

“He would. You cannot rest before you have heard of him and not confronting him will hurt the both of you,” Aragorn told him, deciding to be stubborn about this until Boromir had listened to him.

Boromir looked at Aragorn and the smirk morphed in to exasperation and fondness. “I will think of it, you stubborn man.” Aragorn smiled at that. “I think it comes with the City.”

He got an eyeroll for his cheek, before Boromir requested he’d tell him more. So, Aragorn continued of the ride to Gondor with the Rohirrim, their departure to the Dwimorberg and their dealing with the King of the Dead.

At that part Boromir shivered, yet found it within himself to joke: “I am glad I fell, for I would have followed you there and hated every moment.” A joke that fell flat for Aragorn and Faramir, who had not the mind to joke about Boromir’s recent return just yet.

Aragorn told him of the Seafarers coming from the South, making Boromir curse for a strategic move in a war already won. Still, he smiled once Aragorn told him of Gimli and Legolas’ squabble at the waterside.

The fight for Minas Tirith he kept brief, not wanting to linger on the horror’s of that day when they were just getting erased from the City, while being deeply ingrained in the psyche of her people.

He also did not waste many words on the days after, for he did not wish to answer again for the choices made about his health. He had heard it from Legolas, Gandalf and Elrond already and he knew Boromir would otherwise be added to the list.

Naturally he could not bespared the lecture that came from the revelation about his march on the Black Gate and the deciding hand he had played in the choice.

“I know it was foolish, Boromir,” Aragorn said. “And it was because it was foolish, it had to happen. Sauron had to think us cocky. He had to believe we would only try this with the Ring in our possession, for we needed to give Frodo and Same safe passage.”

“It was a strategically sound move, Boromir, no matter what your soldier instincts will tell you,” Faramir backed Aragorn up.

“Sam told me how the Eye suddenly moved off them and the lands streamed empty.” Aragorn recalled. “The sacrifices made that day were not made in vain. It was the last fight we fought against the Dark Lord.”

A hush fell over the room as all three thought over the last sentence.

It was a truth all had known, but none had really faced. Yet there it was, as a defense to an outrage to something rational that put loved ones into danger, even if it had already passed. They would no longer have to fight the Dark Lord.

“Huh,” Boromir said after the moment of silence. “That was sentence I never dreamed of hearing.”

They all snorted at that. What started out a small sound of humor soon turned into a joyous waterfall of relief and disbelief, until they were out of breath as they tried to straighten themselves, but kept bursting into laughter again.

“What a world we live that we can see the light after the cloud has passed,” said Faramir. “A new sun shines on all of us.”

“Aye, today is good and I hope there will be many more like it to remember,” Boromir agreed, toasting his mug of ale to what Faramir had said.

As they drank they caught up Boromir to the rebuilding efforts. The help from the Elves and the Dwarfsas well as the people themselves, who remade the White City into something transcended of her former glory.

“When my heart told me I would not see Minas Tirith as it was, I could not have hoped that it would be because it was restored to her former glory of the days of old,” smiled Boromir as he looked over the City from the window.

Aragorn looked over the City as well. Back then he wished he could have seen Minas Tirith through Boromir’s eyes, but his own eyes had found the wonders described to him by Boromir in his own ways.

He had seen the endurance and strength of men, not in the market places or on the lands and in the barracks, but in the tents where the houses were no more, among the nurses in the Houses of Healing and the ones tasked with clearing out the bodies.

He heard the love for their home as Boromir held it as they talked to him of their neighborhoods and needs. He saw it when they bowed their heads, before they rolled up their sleeves to work alongside him.

While he had not Boromir’s eyes to look at the City, he had his words to guide him to her beauty and see it for his own.

“Her beauty is truly unrivaled now,” Faramir agreed with his brother as he snapped Aragorn out of his musings. “Yet there is much to do still. The Lords of the Guilds have shown much understanding at the delay for Boromir’s return, but they will wish to meet you again soon, my King. I cannot give you more than today.”

Before today, Aragorn relished in his busy schedule that left little room for his mind to think, but with Boromir returned, he could not help but wish for a bit more time.

“I understand, Faramir,” Aragorn sighed. “Try to see if you can fit them in soon?”

“Of course, my King,” Faramir bowed and excused himself, as he left he patted Boromir on the shoulder, before Boromir hugged him. Faramir said: “Once the King is busy again, we will catch up more. I’ll leave you two now.”

When he had left, they sat there. For all Aragorn had wanted Boromir’s time and attention, now that he had it, he did not know what to do with it. In his mind, he was wrapped up in Boromir’s arms, head upon his chest to hear his heart beat steady. Yet he knew not if it was welcome and he floundered.

“It seems the skills of a Ranger served you well,” Boromir’s ability to remember details in conversation came up once more, as he recalled what had been said to him in Moria.

“Aye,” grinned Aragorn, “though some nobles do not know what to make of stillness that I have left of when I was observing prey and reading the signs. They think me unsettling.”

“They probably think you part Elven magician,” laughed Boromir, finding hilarity in Aragorn upsetting the stuffy nobles of his youth. “I hope Faramir keeps you from scaring them away completely.”

“He has been a great guide in the worlds of politics,” Aragorn said. “I hope you do not mind that he has taken your place in your absence. We knew not of your return back then.”

“I do not blame you at all, in fact I am quite happy with the decision,” Boromir replied. “He has always been much better at this part then I was, but back then we needed a Captain and that was my forte. I would wish for him to keep the position, if all are in agreement. I am not cut out for that work and I leave it in capable hands.”

“And what of I?” Aragorn asked, not wanting to know the answer, but also desperate to hear it. “Are my hands capable or was your declaration only the one of a dying man? You have not seen me as leader in battle, nor with your people or in negotiation. Would you make the same judgment now?”

“Aragorn,” Boromir took his hands and looked into his eyes intently, “I have never left my City in better hands.”

It was a confirmation, he hadn’t know he needed so much until he had gotten it. There was no one in this City he trusted to tell him how he was doing. So, having the one person he was trying to prove himself to, validate his work was liberating.

“Come here,” Boromir gesturedfor him to sit down next to him. “You do not have to be the King here unless you want to, Aragorn. Let us be a Ranger and a Solider, just for a moment.”

He did so gratefully, letting Boromir wrap him up in his strong arms and hide him from the world and his responsibilities for a while.

They sat in silence for many minutes, staring out of the window over the City. Aragorn was completely tucked into Boromir’s side, one leg over his and arms around his middle as Boromir leaned his head upon his.

“What will we do now?” Aragorn asked finally.

“About what, love?” asked Boromir in return.

“About us,” Aragorn clarified. “My heart has been heavy since our departure and I have not been able to let go of all I felt for you. I cannot express how much your return has lightened my spirit, but I cannot forget how I mourned you as a dead man.”

“There were many nights in Lothlórien where I too, did not know of your fate, but I always had the hope and belief you would make it,” Boromir replied. “I cannot begin to think of anyone ever taking the place you hold in my heart. We started as strangers before, Aragorn-love. I will not let time passed come between us after everything. If I have power to do so, I will do anything to get to know you again.”

“Let us start there then,” Aragorn smiled. “As strangers with a history and much love in our hearts. I too, will do anything in my power to keep you in my heart.”

“For that I am glad, though I hope that this time our strangers can involve more kissing then it did before. I missed you during our time apart.”

“Boromir the Bold is a well deserved name,” teased Aragorn as he leaned in, “but I will allow your transgression for speaking out of term against the King.”

The other leaned in as well and breathed on his lips: “Oh, so it is like that now? You’ve grown into your role too well, Lord Aragorn.”

He just hummed and awaited Boromir’s reply to that.

“Very well, my King.”

Aragorn had not the time to name him as future consort, thinking it too forwards until the moment had passed and his lips were already seized, taking all coherency from his mind.

Yet that did not matter, for they were not running to their doom and out of time. He had many years ahead of him to tell Boromir all he thought of him and wished for their future, for there now was a future they could work towards.

Like their lands, there was still much to heal and rebuild. Much that was old that was no more and much that was new yetto be discovered. And that was part of the journey they willingly went on, since it was the way to arrive at where they wished to go.

Not that any of that mattered to Aragorn now, with Boromir’s lips pressed against his own. He was far away from this Kingdom, only present in the bubble of him and Boromir, existing alongside each other.

Tomorrow they would see where this new road would lead them. Tomorrow they would start to heal and relearn what it meant to be them in this new context.

For now they were Aragorn and Boromir, who had met each other and were begrudging traveling companions. Back then they had just watched one another mesmerized yet confused by what they saw and felt.

Here they had so much more questions and a thousand extra answers.

Aragorn could not have known where the road from Rivendell hadtaken him, but it was a road he would gladly walk again if it meant it would end like this. Back then it had merely been hard not to like Boromir and now Aragorn was forever grateful for the moment he had first laid his eyes upon the Son of Gondor.

~~

A/N:

Btw, I want y’all to know that this was my outline for this fic: confess lothlorien > fight anduin > thinks boro dead > in gondor see burdens for him that boro was carrying > more guilt > boro alive yay

I love Arwen, okay. I am a gay bitch and I watched her be badass on a horse at an impressionable age, okay. I love her. I could not find a way to integrate her into the story. I did not say that last time, but yeah. Sorry. She chilled in the undying land and had a great time. (maybe became a hot lesbian bc she deserved that, got a hot gf)

Also I am very emo for the idea that all the choices Aragorn made, in the end worked towards Boromir living. Boromir was such a symbol for how he failed Gondor and to have him succeed by making the right choices and getting Boromir back through them as well makes me very uwu

Btw, rip to Faramir for third wheeling their flirting lmao

Extra:

Ar: “I almost send you down the river in a boat as burial”

Bo: “I’m very glad u didn’t, bc that would have been awkward.”

But also the emotional impact of the guilt he felt for Boromir’s send off being taken from his shoulders because if he had done anything different, he would have been the one to kill Boromir, so he actually did the right thing where he thought he had made yet another mistake