#and maybe under his bed he keeps a box of all his unsent letters to ty :'(

[wikitpowers]

i think what many people forget about when it comes to ty going to cirenworth is that this most likely means that he will have to go into kit’s room… like sorry but imagine it’s just full of silly little crayon drawings from mina, unfinished school projects, random ass weapons lying around and photos of the herondale-carstairs-gray family. imagine ty sees the witchlight he gave to kit all those years ago! imagine ty sitting on kit’s bed! imagine the blushes!

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 20

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader      Content: Language, possible errors  A/N: Some ppl asked for a playlist... so ofc I made one! 

Series Playlist or Chap 20 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 20: Little Lion Man

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When Regulus was younger, his aunt Andromeda and Sirius were obsessed with Muggle stories. Andromeda would send them loads of books every month to the local Muggle post office to prevent their parents from confiscating them. He remembers the ten minute walks there and back, Sirius holding his hand tight, even stopping to buy ice cream during the warmer seasons. They would greet the delivery men and women, picking up a heavy stack of wrapped books before waddling out, each boy mirroring a large grin.

Every night at twilight, when their parents were asleep, Sirius would crawl into his bed and read to Regulus in a hushed voice. He would read a different story every night, lulling him to sleep. Sirius spent hours gushing about the fantastical tales Muggles wrote; how magical and mystical their minds were despite not having an ounce of magical blood. From Superman to Batman, the Joker to Daleks, Prince Caspian to King Miraz; Regulus quickly learned that they all had one common theme: the good guys and the bad guys.

Regulus often spent his time grappling with the notion; what made someone good? Because the definition changes depending on the person.

Were the good guys good because they were selfless — passionate? Those deemed good never let themselves be seen as selfish. The heroes would sacrifice themselves for the greater good, even going as far as giving up their loved ones. Or maybe it was because they went against the odds. But villains did that too.

So he re-worded the question; what made someone bad? Was it their selfishness or greed? Was it putting themselves above others? Did they know they were on the wrong side of history? Make a mistake, once, twice — but surely, that didn’t make someone bad. Did it?

If virtue is understood by both sides, then the bad guys would immediately cross that line time and time again. They lacked wisdom and truthfulness, filled with too much pride and vanity.

But now as he began to grow up far too quickly for a fourteen-year-old boy, he realized that there was more to people than just being good or evil, a saviour or tormentor, light versus darkness.

The definition of good and bad depended on who told the story and Regulus didn’t know who controlled his; him or his parents. The line was so blurred that he couldn’t objectively make the decision himself anymore. Was he more bad than good?

Laughter — rich and inviting beckoned throughout the library, snapping him out of his thoughts again; but it did nothing but chip away at his heart. Regulus got up, shoving his books and parchment into his bag, making sure to hide his face before they saw him. Today, the Marauders had come earlier than expected and he was caught off guard. He’d been doing everything to avoid them out of pure shame.

Before he went to turn, he eyed Sirius from the shadows. He smiled, carefree and happy, clinging onto Pettigrew, ruffling his hair like he once did to him.

What made them so special, so loved and cherished by Sirius? How were they able to make him laugh so effortlessly, able to brighten his day with a mere glance? What made them more of a family than he ever was to him?

But he knew, it was their family’s values and it had been taunting him every waking moment.

It’s not like he didn’t want to escape that night, but he wasn’t Sirius. He was never as bright or strong or as good as him. Sirius was bold and courageous and certainly had more bravery than he would ever have. Regulus was far too weak, a puppet for his parents to control. Sirius was everything Regulus was too afraid to be — a reminder of what he could have turned into.

Besides, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that his parents would have killed Kreacher had he left. And this way with Sirius gone, it left Regulus to be the sole heir. Sirius was free, not being hunted down by his parents now that he bore the title. That was his gift to him, freeing Sirius of all the responsibilities, pain and grief. He owed him that much. Besides, Regulus had already mourned the childhood he never had; that made everything easier.

The day Sirius left was the day before they were set to leave for Hogwarts again and the impact of his absence was massive. He no longer heard the thumping of loud Muggle music nor the clanking of piano keys or doors slamming shut. There wasn’t any screaming aside from his parents shrieking at him for taking his father's wand. The stairs creaked; he could even hear Kreacher padding his way to his room.

It was eerily quiet and lifeless in that damned house, and he was only gone for a day.

Regulus hadn’t been taking it well. Nearly every night, his face was pressed into a pillow muffling his sobs. Sirius had kept his promise, he hadn’t talked to him since.

If only he had a scarlet tie…

Ha! He could laugh; he’d been trying to get his attention in little ways. He’d even gone as far as growing out his hair to match his — coping by writing letters every night with words he wished he could’ve said before storing them in a box under his bed. Forever unsent. Hell, Regulus was a coward, every bit as pathetic as Sirius deemed.

Ever the winter break, his parents were relentless, dumping everything that was meant for Sirius onto him. Letters were sent daily; there were talks about an arranged marriage, lumps of money now being transferred under his name, getting the dark mark… and he was being watched. Every interaction he had, his parents always knew. Especially with Muggleborns; he had to limit his interactions with them to almost nothing, or it wouldn’t end well for either.

His mind reeled back to that night, where his parents and extended family toyed with that blonde Muggle, leaving her half-dead on the dining table, the image branded in his head. It made him sick just thinking about it, he never knew what happened to her, he was too busy trying to muffle out her screams.

Regulus had been questioning everything he was taught. Sirius’ words echoed in his head; was he willing to kill Muggleborns solely because of their blood status? He's a believer in old values and traditions: yes, blood should be kept pure, but to kill Muggles… that was completely different. He’d seen how his dearly beloved aunt was burned off the tapestry, threatened and almost killed for marrying a Muggleborn — a Muggleborn who he’s met and liked and respected. His family tortured them for the sake of it and more. That wasn’t the move of someone good, those were the actions of someone evil; filled with greed, spite and selfishness. But how was he going to stop a whole bloodline from their mania?

Some may call it obedience, the way he’s listened to his parents all these years blindly, but to him, it’s respect. But did he believe that? Did they deserve to be respected? He was miserable and this wasn’t a healthy way to show filial piety.

What did he believe in?

Perhaps there wasn’t such a thing, good or evil, maybe there was only power.

Regulus was lost and confused and most of all, lonely. He remembered Sirius promised him once, before the day he was set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time, that he would never be alone. What a funny thing, promises.

Tears were forming fast and if he didn’t leave then, they would fall any second now. He needed to get out of the library.

Regulus asked himself again; what made someone good or bad — or rather, was he good or bad? He’s veering towards bad.

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After catching word from Mary that Remus’ birthday was approaching, Y/N had been knitting him a sweater in her spare time (or trying to). It was sweet, simple and showed that she’d put effort into it, especially since he taught her. Although, the sweater was lopsided and she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of a certain stitch or how to close sections. Perhaps she should use magic.

Her fingers fiddled with the needle, looping the yarn over the other side. Without looking up, she made a sharp turn into the library before crashing into a hunched-over figure; sniffling and a complete mess.

An apology dangled from her lips before recognizing the figure as Regulus. It had been two months since she’d last seen him and in short, he looked like shit. His skin was grey and lost all sense of a youthful dewy glow. If Sirius had dark eye circles or Remus looked tired, Regulus beat them by miles.

Y/N stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do before gently patting his shoulder. “Regulus?” She asked softly, nothing more than a whisper.

There was a flash of pure terror as he looked up, his eyes nervous as his head spun around to look around the place like he always did. He looked mad, almost unhinged as his hands gently pushed her away, signalling for her to leave. “I — I can’t be seen around you.”

“Can’t? What are you going on abo —” She cut herself off, ignoring the matter entirely. He clearly wasn’t in the right mindset.

His voice was strained, quiet as he kept on murmuring, he almost sounded angry. “You can’t — we’ll both get in trouble. Y/N, go — please… ”

At this, Y/N felt her skin rise in small goosebumps. She looked back to the library, just making out her friend’s figures before looking down at Regulus again. She wasn’t going to leave him like this: crying and delusional.

She took a deep inhale before bending down, picking up her needles and yarn off the ground and slipped them into her bag. She placed a cautious arm around Regulus to keep him upright. “Come with me.” But Regulus wouldn’t budge, not until she flicked down her hood, obscuring her face.

She led him up to the astronomy tower, walking and twisting around before setting him down on a nearby bench, making sure to lock any entrances. They sat in silence, aside from Regulus attempting to regulate his breathing. The cold whipping wind tossed his hair and sank into her bones. With a few charms, they were both warm again, but still able to breathe in the crisp air.

He remained quiet. Y/N didn’t push. Instead, she began babbling softly about random things to distract him. When she heard a sharp exhale of air, mimicking a half-hearted chuckle was when she knew he had calmed down.

“Thank you,” he muttered. It’s quiet, barely above a whisper. Regulus’ cheeks were pink, colour finally returning to him from either embarrassment or the cold.

“Any time,” she smiled warmly. Her hand reaches into her bag, fishing out the snacks that were meant for the study group: blackberries that were for Remus, a muffin for Marlene, were now shared between them. She tried to encourage him to eat, to regain any sort of energy.

He listened without complaint, a tense yet thankful air engulfed them. It was only until he finished the food, about an hour gone by, was when he spoke again. “Why are you being so nice to me.” It’s not even a question, just an odd accusation.

She thinks for a while, searching for the best answer. “I wished someone was there for me when I was going through a hard time.”

“But you don’t know me.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Well, let’s get to know each other then. I’ll tell you something about myself and then you can go?”

Regulus looked up at her with a calculated expression, cautious and looked uncomfortable but he nodded.

“Let’s start simple. I have an owl named Celeste.”

He gulped, looking back to the entrance. His answer came delayed, strained and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. “I play the violin.”

Y/N smiled largely. “The violin is beautiful! Hmm… I can’t ride a broomstick to save my life, unlike you.”

At this, he smiles — a real genuine smile that causes his eyes to crinkle and sparkle. “Really?” His eyes burned with curiosity before he looked down, “I can’t swim.”

“Swim?” She repeats, chuckling to herself, “Who doesn’t know how to swim?”

“You’re making me feel grand. Terribly uncalled for.”

Her eyes rolled, “You should learn. It can save your life one day. Who wants to drown?”

“Maybe I’ll ask McGonagall — I heard for tougher punishments she’ll throw you into the black lake.”

“You’re the perfect candidate then.”

After a while, way past curfew, Regulus seemed cheerier; his tear-stained cheeks now replaced with a smile and relaxation. That day, Y/N unaware, was a day Regulus would never forget.

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March 8th, 1976

“Sirius, shut up.”

“You’re the one yelling!”

“... Right.”

Excused from their afternoon classes because their Puffskein was about to hatch, the Marauder’s dorm was bustling with panic and bickering. When Y/N partnered with Sirius for their project, she expected fighting (which happened every day) but not for Sirius to be like this. He’d been running around the dorm, grabbing warm towels, bowls of water and taking out his panic on her. He gripped his textbook, flicking through notes to see if they had everything. It was as if he was preparing for the birth of an actual baby.

She silently watched him, her mind thinking about Regulus rather than their project. This was the only time she and Sirius were alone and wondered if she should mention his freakout the other day but stopped — it didn’t take a genius to know they weren’t on friendly terms.

Since that night, she’d seen Regulus almost daily, but only at night before their study group. She would spend an hour or so with him before the Marauder or girls came barraging in; Regulus left before they appeared. The entire situation left her deeply confused, worried and most of all, suspicious.

“We need Kettleburn —”

Annoyance began nipping at her. “Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down!”

Sirius paced, both firing snide jabs. Too preoccupied in his panicked state, he didn’t hear the quiet cracking of the white shell, forming the shape of a lightning bolt before cascading over.

“Um, Black?”

“Let’s not start. How are you so —”

“Get your ass over here now!”

Sirius pressed his lips together immediately and rushed over, both huddled side by side near the roaring fireplace. The shell twitched, cracking more and they both gasped in amazement. The process was faster than either expected as they saw the small tuft of cream fur peek out along with a pair of black eyes. Its long pink tongue slipped out, already looking for its first meal. Y/N scrambled to grab a nearby dish of dried spiders to feed it while Sirius cradled it in his hand. His smile was wide, buzzing with excitement as he observed it. His hands gently glided over the soft fur as it emitted a low humming sound.

A deep chuckle erupts from Sirius and she could feel the vibrations from how close they were. His laugh, which once made her cringe, now made her skin feel fuzzy and heart flutter. But, it wasn’t like that, she thinks. Of course not! She still wants to jinx him, maybe even throw him into the fireplace. Yes, that’s it.

She snaps out of her violent thoughts when she finds Sirius already looking at her, a pretty flush to his skin as he observes her softly. Her brows crinkled; instead of a frown or on the cusp on an insult, he smiles.

“Do you want to hold it?” Y/N nods eagerly. Sirius shifts his body, placing the Puffskein in the palms of her hands. It’s incredibly soft, adorable and when it leans into her, falling asleep, she swore she fell in love.

“What do you want to name it?” She mumbled, afraid that if she were any louder it might wake it up. Sirius takes a long time to ponder and Y/N braces herself for an insult, already thinking of a plethora of her own.

“It looks like porridge… Oatmeal!”

“Are you serious?”

“I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

Y/N tries to suppress her smile but fails. The Puffskein did look like a grain of oatmeal. Plain and simple, she liked it.

“Hello, Oats! You’re so cute — I could just eat you up!”

“Morbid much.”

Hours went by before they ultimately decided to head down to Kettleburn’s office for an examination of Oats’ health. Sirius cradled it in a small blanket, shielding it from the rest of the world. Marlene and Dorcas were standing by the sidelines, joining them as they walked past.

“Yours hatched already? Aw, it looks so cute!” Dorcas squealed. Her hands reached out, giddy as Sirius gently placed it into her arms but not without fretting. Marlene only looked down at her with a soft gaze, her face becoming pink as she wrapped an arm around her.

“Give it a rest. She’s not going to drop it.”  

“Now you, McKinnon?! I’m a father now! Our kid deserves the best care! Right, L/N?”

It catches her off guard. Sirius trying to include her in a conversation? That’s a new milestone. “Of course; the proudest parents.”

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Once done with Kettleburn, Sirius went to bring Oats back to his dorm, parting as Y/N went to find Lily who took her notes for her afternoon classes.

Out in the courtyard, walking around in the snow, both Lily and Snape wandered around before she picked up a snowball, throwing it at him. Snape sent her a deadpanned look as Lily kept hurling snowballs. Most missed him, others hit him before he retaliated and threw some back.

Y/N halted, watching the scene play out and debated whether or not to approach them. But decided to, shouting while striding up to them.

“Petals!”

Lily’s smile grew before her head whipped to her. She stopped her snowball fight, getting up to bounce her way over to her. Snape followed in suit, but as Lily began to babble on and on about what she missed, Snape’s eyes bore into her, vice versa.

“I’ll see you later, Sevy! We need to go,” said Lily, already turning to walk away. Y/N lingered back a pause, just enough to see Snape draw his wand and shoot a spell at her. She had just enough time to block it. Whatever spell it was, it sparkled like a firecracker. If Snape could easily send a hex or jinx her way inboard daylight with Lily just a little ahead, what was he willing to do had they been alone.

His angel persona around her was dropping quickly.

“Whiskers!” Shouted Lily. Her arms raised in question. “Get over here!”

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her before she could process them. She was about to cause a scene, yell and scream until that nasty sneer fell off his face until she felt a tug on her arm. Lily hooked her arm around Y/N, pulling her away. But she still had her wand drawn, ready to block another spell. She tossed one last look at him; he smiled wickedly.

“Are you okay?”

She had enough tip-toeing around Snape. She remained tranquil, gave him the benefit of the doubt and respected their friendship but that was enough.

“No, I’m not actually,” keeping her tone as soft as possible, trying not to sound defensive, “Why do you waste your time around him?”

Lily paused, her eyes going wide. An offended expression crossed her face as she took a moment to digest the remark. “Sev? What are you getting at?” Her tone was guarded which had Y/N debating whether or not to drop the conversation entirely. A fight with Lily was not on her to-do list.

“I just think you should be careful around him.”

“I can look out for myself,” she grumbled, “Severus has been there for me for years. I know how to separate myself from the wrong sorts.”

“I’m only saying this to look out for —”

“I know, but he isn’t like what you’re thinking.” Lily didn’t look mad, just tired as she nodded sharply. Taking a stack of parchment from her bag, Lily handed it to her and walked faster. “You’re around Potter too much. He isn’t like what he says he is.”

Y/N felt annoyance blossom in her chest at the accusation of James but bit her tongue to avoid more conflict. Right now, they trod on dangerous waters.

Neither spoke to each other for the rest of the day.

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Daffodils.

Sorry I took so kind to update! With college everything is crazy but I’m really happy that I’ve finally got to write this. Please let me know what you think!

I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it 💕

Ps. I’ve checked but I apologize if you find any errors in this one.

Chapter 7: Unsent letters and unsaid things. (Part 1/2)

Prat:

I fucking despise you for staying, you left me alone and I hate it.

Potter won’t stop knocking on my bloody door just to see if I’m alright and clearly the answer is no.

I know that you are never going to read this but I needed to tell you.

You can shove your ‘l love you too’ where the sun doesn’t shine.

Sincerely,

Draco

Theodore:

I’m so fucking sorry for not feeling the same way. I really am... But I do love you, I hope you know that.

Are you alright? Did they punish you? Part of me feels relieved that you didn’t kill anyone but the other part wonders if it was the right decision considering your situation...

I think that if you saw me now it would help you to fall out of love with me because I’m disgusting. I haven’t left my bedroom in almost a week (except to go to the bathroom) and I don’t remember when was the last time that I had a shower... I know you always hated when I wallowed in my own sadness.

Don’t worry, I hate me too.

Be safe,

Draco

Theo:

Potter says that he can vouch for you. It’s because of the Hanahaki but even if I die, this is the golden boy we are talking about; he’ll probably do it anyway.

So avoid making huge offenses, okay? You were a minor when you took the mark, nobody can hold that against you. Just... fucking stay out of it, if you can. Potter will take care of it after everything is over.

Even if you never read this... I feel weird talking about him to you. It would be rather cruel, don’t you think?

I miss you dearly. Please be safe,

Draco

Dear Theodore:

Remember when mother use to tell us about James and Sirius? She always left things out of her stories. I think that anyone with two eyes could have tell that they had feelings for each other, so mother definitely knew.

It would have been nice to know about it, back then, when we were little... It would have helped with all the internalized homophobia.

I think you would love them if you met them (talking more than ten words, I mean). Maybe when this is all over I can introduce you... I want you to have people that care for you after I’m gone.

How are you over there? Sometimes I think about sending my Patronus to ask you... But it’s a bloody lion, so flashy that everyone would see it.

I wish that I could really talk to you instead of writing letters and putting them in a box.

I’m so fucking worried.

Be safe,

Draco

Theodore:

I know I said that talking about this with you would be weird but I don’t have anyone else to talk to... I can’t tell Sirius or Mr. Potter, they would tell him... So here it goes and I hope you don’t hate me for it.

Potter blushed today because I kissed him on the cheek. We kind of almost really kiss but I’ve chicken out. I can’t believe that I’m saying this,but maybe you were right and I have a chance.

I know that you told me that you would support me even if you hate him, nonetheless, I feel like I need to explain myself.

I really love you. I love you so much that I wish that you find someone worthy of you, someone that puts you first in everything... I don’t think that I’m that person and it pains me, it really does. Of course, you already know that. Because it’s you, and you always know this things.

Thank you for everything,

Draco

Dear Theodore:

There is so much to write that I don’t know where to begin.

I’m deeply thankful and sad that I didn’t see you at the burrow. Thankful that we didn’t have to fight each other , and sad because I think it would have been nice to see you to know if you are alive. Which you are, I refuse to think otherwise.

We are okay, the golden trio escaped and I convinced Sirius and Mr Potter to run away to find them. I can’t believe that everything went to shit when August had barely even began.

Weasley knows too now, Granger refused to obliviate him so I’m praying he keeps this to himself. How, you ask? Well, funny story... Potter snogged the Weaselette in the middle of the kitchen and I saw it... Yes, I ended up coughing an entire daffodil again and Ron saw it.

So... I did something really stupid after we came back... even though I saw the kiss, even though it almost choked me to death to cough that stupid flower... An opportunity to kiss Potter presented itself to me and I took it. I’m not giving you the details because my cruelty has its limits.

I fell asleep with him resting his head on my chest, it was not the first time that it happened but I didn’t expect it after the kiss... I thought it meant something, I’m so fucking stupid.

I’ve fucked up, Theo. I really did. He is acting like everything is as normal as ever, and the flowers are tearing me to pieces. Sometimes I don��t even cough petals, just blood.

I think that my body is suffering from abstinence syndrome: now that the daffodils now how it feels to be close to him, they are begging me to kiss him again. Which I clearly can not do, because he doesn’t want to, he always finds excuses to leave the room if I’m there.

I can’t train like this. I’m too fucking weak. Most of the times I feel like I’m going to pass out from the pain itself... I have the amortentia that you gave me, at least... it kind of helps to avoid having four coughing fits per hour.

Weasley is pretty pissed too. He asks me all the bloody time if Harry did something, I always respond that no (at least not on purpose). I heard him arguing with Hermione last week, saying that he would punch Potter if it weren’t for the fact that his best friend doesn’t have the slightest idea that he is the cause of all this. I talked to him afterwards, explained to him that he could not tell him, not now at least.

I apologize for the drops of blood on the parchment, I can’t help it.

I miss you more than ever, I know it’s selfish but I could really use our not thinking methods right now... although, I fear that my mouth tastes like blood all the time and I look very unattractive.

I hope I see you soon,

Draco

He folded the parchment and carefully put the letter inside of the box, before closing it and hiding it again under his bed.

The training was cut short because of the blond boy’s coughing fit. Potter had teased him about something meaningless, it kind of sounded like flirting at the time, and then the scene of the kiss started to replay in his head and it became unbearable to be there.

Everyone was getting used to it by now. Draco tried to talk to Granger about him being a liability in the battle field but the girl just ignored him or changed the subject completely.

He sighed, gathering his strength to stand up and walk towards the bathroom to brush his teeth.

[ashxketchum]

Momentary ~ A Pokeshipping Oneshot

A/N: So this was written sometime around Sun and Moon had just begun airing and a cameo by Misty and Brock were a distant, distant dream. So consider this an AU where Misty and Brock do not meet up with Ash during his Alola run. Their ages go from 15 to 18 by the end of the story. Hope you enjoy reading this!

Summary: Fifteen moments in the lives of Ash and Misty as they grow older and apart. Some short and some not long enough, but each somewhat important in bringing them closer. 

FF.NET

 15

 She sits down abruptly, the ground is slightly damp and she can feel the mud attach itself to her clothes but it doesn’t bother her. Summer nights are pleasant in Kanto, and all she wanted to do was take a stroll in the woods near Cerulean city, but she had forgotten how confusing the forests could be at night, even if it was one she had been visiting since she was a child. So she sits down, not caring about the dirt, to gather her thoughts and find her way back. But it is then that she wonders, whether she even wants to go back. Her family was tiring, the gym was tiring, her pokemon and an occasional visit or letter from old friends was her only relief. She had grown up too fast and she wanted to go back. Back to those days when crossing forests was something she could do with her eyes closed, to those days when she could sleep under the open sky with the warmth of the campfire making her feel safe. However, decisions needed to be taken and she had settled with the right one.

She heard a familiar groan and a chirp, a nag and a sigh, her eyes shone as she watched a fading image of her younger self passed her by, heading deeper into the forest accompanied by her three travelling companions and the usual chatter that surrounded them. A smile appeared on her lips as the ghosts of her past vanished into thin air, they were going to get lost, she remembered. She chuckled and looked up at the star studded sky, it was a beautiful night and she needed to enjoy it, she thought, even if she had to do it alone. She stood up and let her feet take control, knowing that no matter what, she’d find her way home.

 14

Ash was a forgetful person, everyone knew that. He also didn’t like thinking about complicated things, it gave him a headache and he could feel himself getting older. He was insensitive at times, and very stubborn too, once he set his mind on something it was difficult to stop him. But there were some sides to his personality that none were aware of. He had a terrible habit of writing letters but never posting them, he had a habit of dialing a phone number but hanging up before the call went through, he had a habit of buying things that he thought someone would like but never giving it to them. Somehow, this overtly clumsy side of his only showed itself when a certain redhead was involved. Every time he’d come home from his travels, the pile of unsent letters and tiny packages he’d hidden in his room would grow larger. He’d been in Alola for sometime now, longer than his usual journeys, and he was starting to get anxious about his mother snooping around in his room. He voiced his concern to Pikachu one night, but his best friend was no expert in human emotions so he only repeated that Mom was a good person. Ash wasn’t doubting his mother’s kindness, just her ability to stay out of his business but he could not get Pikachu to understand him so he sighed and gave up, what has to happen, will happen, he thought.

What happened was, in a drive to clean every inch of the house, Mr. Mime discovered the Ash’s pile of regrets and presented it to Delia. One look at the top letter and the little gifts, she understood her son’s intentions, and being the kind and helpful mother that she was, she packed all of it in a box and posted it to the person it was meant for.

 13

Misty had slept in the same clothes that she had worn for her midnight stroll, so when she woke up she wasn’t surprised to see the mud on her sheets only unimpressed with her past self. She was however, surprised when she began her first task of the day, which was sorting the mail and noticed the box that had arrived for her from Pallet Town. Curiosity won over shock and she hurriedly opened up the box.

She spent the next few hours locked up in her room, informing her sisters that she was down with a bad flu and they should stay away from her, which they promptly did. She couldn’t process what was happening, there was a pen with a Piplup on it, a box with Oshawott shaped cookies, a Manaphy locket and a Tympole t-shirt inside the box along with a stack of letters. She took a deep breath and began reading from the bottom of the pile.

12 

Pikachu couldn’t understand why his trainer looked like his soul had left his body. Their new companions looked at him expectantly as they knew that Pikachu understood Ash more than they did, but sadly the yellow rodent had no answer for his friends. The call with Mom had gone well in Pikachu’s opinion, but at the end of it Mom said something that made Ash scream and end the call abruptly. He had been sitting on his couch-bed ever since, looking like a dead man.

11 

Delia was pleasantly surprised with the doorbell ringing so early in the morning as she hadn’t been expecting anyone today. When she opened the door, she was greeted by a slightly out of breath but seemingly upset Misty. She understood why the redhead was here and ushered the girl into her kitchen so she could quickly whip up some breakfast for the long chat that lay ahead of them.

“Did you send them or did he?” Misty asked, without missing a beat.

Delia had only just begun pulling out the pancake mix from the cupboard, she paused midway and turned around to face the redhead, “I did...” she replied earnestly. She watched as Misty’s face fell and she got up, as if to leave so Delia rushed to her side, putting her arms on the younger girl’s shoulders she continued, “You know how forgetful Ash can be, I’m sure he meant to-”

“If he really did want to send them, he would have.”

10 

Ash was having difficulty sleeping ever since his mother informed him that she had sent Misty all those gifts and letters that he had set aside for her in his room. In the beginning he couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t process the thought of those things actually reaching Misty. Now his mind was clouded with what she must have thought of them.

Did the t-shirt fit her fine?

Were the cookies still edible after a year?

Did she like the locket and the pen?

Did she read all the letters or just some of them?

Did she find them interesting or boring?

He just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every time his mother called, he’d ask her if she had replied or dropped by the house, but the answer was same, no she hadn’t. He waited patiently for a letter from her to arrive in the mail, he thought maybe she was taking her time because she didn’t know what to say or she had too much to say. But her reply never came and Ash became disappointed, then irritated and eventually, he forgot about it.

9 

Misty wanted to leave the minute she entered the house. The Ketchum household had always felt like home to her, but she was stepping foot in it after almost three years and her last visit hadn’t exactly been enjoyable. The house was crowded, which she was grateful for, but there were a lot of unfamiliar faces as well. She had been slightly late, intentionally, so the victory party was already in full-force, with the victor in question constantly surrounded by his friends. She stuck to talking to the people she knew, occasionally her eyes would drift towards him and she watched him only from afar, too afraid to approach him.

He spent the night surrounded by the league members and champions of the different region, but later in the night, a short-haired blonde attached herself to him. Every time Misty’s eyes would reach him, she’d be there next to him, smiling and laughing naturally as if she belonged there. The more she watched them together, the more suffocated she felt. There were too many people in the room, they were being too loud, it felt as if the walls were closing in on her, so she managed to slip out into the front garden as discreetly as she could to breathe. She stood outside in the dark, breathing heavily, and trying to piece her mind back together. She placed a hand on her chest and waited patiently for her heartbeat to slow down. It took a while but she was able to pull herself together and then she decided to leave. She took a few steps forward when she heard the door open behind her, the loud noises from inside the house floated through the air for an instant but then the door was shut and the noise died down. She decided to carry on, not bothering to check if someone had come out or not but the loud familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

 8

“I see you kept the locket,” Ash said loudly, and watched as the redhead stopped and turned around slowly.

Their eyes met for the first time in years and suddenly he felt like looking away and keeping her gaze at the same time. Fortunately for him, Misty was the first to look away as her eyes fell down onto the Manaphy locket on her neck. She didn’t meet his eye when she replied.

“Did you expect me to throw it away?”

“Not really, I expected a reply,” Ash frowned, he was seeing her after such a long time that he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her, but she was looking everywhere except at him.

She scoffed in reply and shook her head, finally looking up to meet his gaze, “Congratulations on the title.”

He could hear the sincerity in her words but her eyes looked tired and her smile wasn’t bright enough, why, he couldn’t understand. He also couldn’t understand the anger slowly churning up at the bottom of his stomach, today was supposed to be a happy day for him so why couldn’t she be happy too?

“Thanks for showing up to the finals,” the words left his mouth before he could rethink them, each letter dripping with bitterness he didn’t know he was capable of feeling.  

Her cerulean eyes flashed with anger as she balled up her fists trying to keep herself in check, “Maybe I would have, if my invitation hadn’t gotten lost in the mail.” Her reply didn’t miss a beat and Ash should have known better than to challenger her head on.

7 

Turning away and leaving was much easier when he didn’t bother to stop her. She held back her emotions until she was settled inside the rapid train back to Cerulean. As soon as her head hit the window pane, the tears began to flow out of her eyes effortlessly.

She had imagined their reunion a million times in her head.

But none had turned out like the reality she had just faced.

By the time Misty reached the comfort of her room, she had already decided that it was finally time to move on.

 6

Ash kept his voice low as he faced his mother, careful not to wake some of the guests who had fallen asleep in the living room, “You lied to me.” He stated clearly.

Delia looked over her shoulder to find her son glaring intently at her, an expression she hadn’t seen on his face for a long time. Knowing very well what this was all about she decided to play innocent for a while longer, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie?”

“Misty did reply to my letters didn’t she?” He almost spat back at her. Delia found it endearing and reminiscent of his father, the fact that Ash was still trying to be respectful despite of being livid with her.

“No, Ash. She came to see me a few days after I posted them.” Delia replied quietly, their house was still filled with guests after all.

“And what did she say? What did you tell her?” The urgency in Ash’s voice clearly indicated that Misty’s early exit from the party last night had not been because she was feeling under the weather as her message in the morning had claimed.

“She wanted to know if I posted the letters on your behalf and I simply told her the truth.” Delia said softly.

“And why did you keep this hidden from me for so long?”

Now this was the question Delia wasn’t prepared to answer, “Ash, I just…” she began but had to pause to look for the right words, “I didn’t want to be the reason you lost your focus.” They weren’t the words she had been looking for but they were the ones she remembered.  

“I’m not Dad you know,” Ash muttered avoiding her gaze as he continued, “as much as I look like him. I wouldn’t have lost my focus even if you had told me the truth Mom, if there is one thing that I have been sure about in life, it’s my goal to be a Pokemon Master.”  

“I’m sorry, Ash.”

 5

Her skill to hold her breath under water for minutes was something she had been proud of since she was a baby. But as a trainer it helped Misty train with her water pokemon in a way unique only to her. She had been learning the movements of Dragon Dance with her Gyarados for some time now. He’d perform the move countlessly for her underwater and she would try to copy his fluid movements but there were some turns that she just couldn’t master, so she had started to devote an hour to this training every day. Her other pokemon found it very amusing that instead of teaching them a move, she was trying to learn from them and would occasionally join in. Gyarados was more than happy to be in total control of the situation and lately, the training had evolved into more of an underwater dancing session among all the pokemon of the Cerulean Gym and their leader.

When she resurfaced and came face to face with Pikachu all of a sudden, she almost let out a shriek. From behind her Psyduck rushed to the surface to greet Pikachu, happy to see his friend after so long. The pool area of the Cerulean city gym was suddenly filled with loud, happy cries of various pokemons as they all came forward to greet their friend Pikachu, and his trainer who stood a few paces behind the electric mouse.

“Were you trying to drown yourself?” Ash asked, skipping past any greetings and explanations breezily, “I’ve been standing here for what, ten minutes?”

“No. I’m trying to learn Dragon Dance.” Misty responded, and instantly regretted it. She cursed herself mentally as she climbed out of the pool. Whatever happened to her strong resolve from last night? If nothing else, she should definitely be serving Ash with a strong silent treatment, but here she was taking the conversation forward. Once she stood up and looked at him, she found him staring at her blankly with his mouth wide open.

“You’re trying to learn a dragon-type move?” He replied, nothing but confusion covering his face.

“No, I’m trying to learn the movements to the dragon-type move,” She answered, rolling her eyes at his denseness, some things never do change.

As clarity dawned upon Ash, he ran his chocolate coloured eyes over her body with an expression of interest that she had never seen on his face before. Only recently had Misty switched from her usual one piece swimsuit to a bikini as it allowed her to move her torso more freely which made it easier to keep up with Gyarados. And up until now, she hadn’t seen it as much of a change but the glint in Ash’s eye made her immediately reconsider her wardrobe choice of the day. She felt herself redden under his gaze, and quickly made her way towards the towel rack to cover herself up.

Once she faced him again, she noticed a tint of pink on Ash’s cheeks as he himself must’ve realized that he had stared for longer than was considered normal.

 4

Pikachu quickly climbed up on to his shoulder the moment he realized that Ash was getting nervous. He had practiced the conversation he wanted to have with the redhead with his partner on the train ride to Cerulean, so Pikachu considered himself as the torch bearer who would see Ash until the end of this situation. Obviously, the rodent didn’t comprehend that his trainer’s fidgeting wasn’t just because he was worried about the way things would turn out between him and Misty, but more so because he had seen her in a bikini for the first time. Which technically should not have affected him as much, considering she bared her mid-riff the entire time they travelled together as kids.

But, after all, they clearly weren’t kids anymore.

Pikachu nuzzled his nose against Ash’s cheek to get his attention, which broke his train of thought heading steadily down the wrong direction. The raven haired boy shook his head furiously to clear it of all thoughts except the speech he had practiced in the morning and decided to cut right to the chase.

“I just want to you to know that I didn’t send the letters, not because I didn’t want to,” he started, speaking fast so he could get it over with as soon as possible, “but because, I didn’t have the courage to.” He stopped to catch a breath and also muster up all his remaining guts for the last bit, “and that ever since we parted ways from Johto, not a single day has gone by when I haven’t thought of you.”

Ash didn’t want to wait for a reply, in fact he was dreading it so when Misty didn’t say anything immediately after he finished speaking, he turned on his heels to leave. She’d already walked out on him once, so now it was his turn to return the favour.

 3

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not coming to watch the finals,” she called out abruptly, Ash was already near the exit but she knew her voice had reached him as he halted in his tracks but didn’t turn around to face her. Even in the million reunion scenarios she had fantasized about in her head, she’d never had imagined Ash saying something so purely honest that made her heart beat faster than the speed of light. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to give him a similar kind of response but she knew that she at least owed him an honest apology.

So she easily closed the distance between them, slightly relieved that he still wasn’t facing her because it was easier to get the words out that way, “I know it didn’t sound like it when I said it last night, but I am really happy that you won.” She lowered her eyes towards the ground as she added, “Champion.”

2 

Pikachu read the atmosphere faster than the two trainers and happily jumped into Misty’s arms from Ash’s shoulder and snuggled up to her, mewing softly.

Ash turned to face her even as he felt a slight blush creep up on his face from hearing her call him by his new title for the first time, grinning ear to ear he teasingly asked her, “Who’s the wannabe now?”

The redhead returned his cocky grin with an exasperated smile and hugged Pikachu even tightly as she giggled, “But the real Champion is you, Pikachu, for being able to stick with a trainer like him for so long.”

The newly crowned Champion rolled his eyes in response, when all he really wanted to do was sigh in relief. He hadn’t been able to settle down since their meeting last night and had gone to sleep thinking that despite of winning his dream, he may have lost something just as important to him. But he felt his whole body relax as the fact that everything was okay between him and Misty finally registered in his brain. Not wanting to lose the momentum, he decided to take a chance.

“So, since I’m here already. Why don’t we go out for lunch?”

It was satisfying, to put it simply, to watch Misty turn completely red under his gaze as she struggled to reply.

 1

“Su-sure…lunch would be doable,” Mew, she hated how her voice sounded right now, but what was more annoying was how much Ash was enjoying watching her squirm. He’d managed to get so much more confident and cocky after gaining a mere two centimeters over her.

“Let me just get dressed quickly,” She managed in her normal bossy tone, gesturing towards her swimsuit.

“Why, I’d prefer you in this than any other clothes any day,” Ash tilted his head and smirked at her, indicating that he had clearly won this round.

It was only a second later that the mallet knocked him straight to the ground.

-x-

 Thank you for reading and Reviews are always appreciated!

[ofmenoetius]

✖ ▒ OH, WHAT A COINCIDENCE! i was just thinking of [ PATROCLUS SON OF MENOETIUS ]. most swear their resemblance to [ SEAN TEALE ] is unmistakable, but he has / they have been around since the [ BRONZE AGE ]. it is rumoured that the [ DEMIBOY ] was born in [ OPUS ] in the year [ 1205 BC ], even though they don’t look a day over [ THIRTY ]. what a shame, though: they were once famed for being [ HONEST ] and [ PASSIONATE ] ; yet now, they seem more and more [ RESERVED ] and [ MERCURIAL ]. but while [ PATROCLUS ] spends their days working as a [ HARPIST FOR THE LONDINIUM SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA ], they are already notorious around town for [ UNSENT LOVE LETTERS ADDRESSED TO NO ONE ; BANDAGED FINGERS AND CALLOUSED HANDS ; A BEAT UP OLD FLIP PHONE ; THE FAINT SCENT OF COFFEE AND CARDAMOM ]. when you live forever, you might as well make the most of it. 

hi, hello –– i’m bella + also the worst !! this is my baby patroclus who’s one part powerpuff girl, two parts physical embodiment of the eyeroll, and generally just has really bad frown lines from being in a Bad Mood for like thousands of years or whatever. ( will not get botox sadly, someone convince him ) anyway –– i am here for every single plot of every single kind !! just like this and / or hmu on discord @ halaldaddy#3725 !!

TASK ONE : THE RUNDOWN

▼ STATISTICS.

full name: patroclus, son of menoetius.

moniker / nickname: officially goes by patrick in 2020, and he has the fake ids to prove it. generally isn’t the biggest fan of nicknames. 

titles: tbd.

gender && pronouns: demi-boy && he / him + they / them. 

dob && age: april 24th, 1205 BC && really old –– about 3224 years old, give or take, but he’s been thirty for a really long time. 

place of birth: opus, greece. 

previous residences: opus, athens, larissa, cape town, cardiff, inverness, paris, milan, caracas, && londinium –– in that order. 

zodiac sign: taurus. 

ethnicity: white && venezuelan. 

sexual orientation: demisexual. 

romantic orientation: homoromantic. 

occupational history: perpetual soldier, squire, orange farmer, lutist, revolutionary, boxer, harpist. among others. 

▼ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

face claim: sean teale.

height: 185 cm && 6′2. 

physical build: mesomorph && visibly muscular && painfully straight back from years of his father’s voice still stuck in his head. ( it’s 2020, maybe he really should go to therapy for his daddy issues, but how do you tell a therapist your dad died before the trojan war ?? asking for a friend. )

eye colour and shape: dark brown && hooded, really long lashes which he does oil at night && also lines his eyes with kohl. it’s habit. 

hair colour and style: dark, cropped, usually trimmed neatly. 

usual expression: bored, reluctant smile.

accent and speech style: heavily accented english, but it’s impossible to pin down where he might be from. speaks spanish and greek with more ease than he does english.

distinguishing marks / characteristics: both ear lobes pierced, gold studs in both. a shield tattooed on his left flank. plenty of scars –– one across his right eyebrow, scarred && calloused hands, a very large scar that refused to heal right on his left shoulder. 

clothing style: anything he can find, really ; athletic for the most part, but smart button-downs ( always button-downs, never button ups ) for work. 

jewellery and accessories: a thin, gold chain around his neck ; his an engraved ring hangs from it, tucked away. a deliberate collection of rings on his fingers: a curved edge, yellow gold signet ring from a third-generation foundry in greece ; a classic medusa ring picked up in florence during the renaissance ; a turquoise inlaid silver signet ring ; a silver plated band, worn on his left thumb.

▼ FAMILY.

father: menoetius, deceased ( thank fuck ). 

mother: philomela, deceased. 

siblings, if any: myrto, his sister. 

extended relations: none that he knows. 

significant other(s): achilles && only achilles. it could only ever be achilles.

children: none, except his –– 

household pet(s): he has two tabby cats named menelaus and ajax ( just a little fun joke for himself, okay –– don’t @ him. ) 

▼ FAVOURITES.

colour: gold ; every shade. 

weather: storms –– it reminds him of mornings spent inside, the air sticky and humid, sweat on his upper lip and a laugh on his tongue. 

food item: he’s a vegetarian –– he always has been, especially since he didn’t always have food, especially during the 1100s. so yeah, patroclus isn’t exactly picky –– anything veg and vaguely edible’s fine –– but he does love a vegan burger ( normal cheese, please ). the perks of the 21st century. okay, and he loves green olives. 

beverage: he’s a stereotype, he loves red wine. ( fine, he hates wine –– he likes tequila. )

time of day: late at night, late enough that the streets are quiet and the air feels thin and he can breathe deeply. 

television genre: not that patroclus has time to watch tv –– plus he’s got one of those old picture tube tvs from the dinosaur era –– but he loves a good underwater documentary. and shark week. and the history channel –– he likes to catch what they got wrong. 

favourite era lived: he’d do anything to go back to the day before he died –– anything. to say a proper goodbye, to say all the very many things he’d never said because he thought he had all the time in the world. but also, he really loved the ‘70s in londinium.

▼ PERSONALITY.

hobbies: boxing && reading && falling asleep in the sun. 

pet peeves: people talking in circles && liars. 

phobias: patroclus doesn’t like drowning. he’s died of drowning once && come back from it, but he absolutely hated it. he’ll take anything over it. 

allergies: coffee. which is fine, because patroclus likes green tea anyway. ( well, green tea with like three whole spoonfuls of honey. )

mbti type: isfj – t.

enneagram type: 

35% the challenger.

48% the skeptic.

22% the peacemaker.

positive traits: passionate && honest && loyal && dependable.

negative traits: reserved && mercurial && blunt && pessimistic && headstrong && forlorn.

morning routine: goes for a run every morning before dawn, goes to a boxing class, has breakfast at the bookshop on the way home, and gets to work at least an hour early. it’s boring and it’s too familiar and patroclus wouldn’t change it –– he’d rather have predictable than the alternative. he’s tired of losing people and places and old routines, so he’s holding on to this one until he has to move again in another twenty years.

beauty routine: nothing really ; patroclus keeps his beard neat and his hair trimmed. he oils and curls his lashes, oils his beard. he misses baths –– big baths that you could sit in and just stay in until you pruned. but he only has a shower in his apartment now. 

sleeping habits: patroclus hasn’t slept through the night since before his first death ; nowadays, it’s a few hours of sleep at a time, and plenty of nightmares to keep him company. the good thing is, he’s very used to waking up early –– rather than tossing and turning or watching his ceiling until dawn, he’s up and out of bed. 

oldest belonging: he doesn’t have anything –– nothing. patroclus always leaves things behind, always. it’s easier that way. and sure, he regrets it sometimes. but there’s no use crying over the past, right? not when he has an endless future. 

living space && home: it’s small –– it’s really small. but it has bay windows, a shitty little terrace with doors that the wind knocks open, and plants everywhere. there’s a kingsize mattress on the ground, one set of sheets total and they’re made of cotton-silk. orange, of course.  

INTRODUCTION : tw death ; tw war .

his childhood wasn’t pretty. patroclus was born too skinny, too weak –– maybe not sickly, but he wasn’t wanted. he wasn’t loved. he was born into a war, and his war was his father. his war was his father’s shame. so when he killed another by accident –– in anger, in frustration, by mistake –– his father was more than happy to ship him off ; and somehow, that was the greatest gift his father could have ever given him. thanks, dad. 

it’s been so long, everything feels like a dream. it feels too sunlit and too warm to the touch. it feels too easy. and sure, he can’t remember all that much about it. but he remembers achilles. he remembers being so happy that he felt sick to his stomach. but he doesn’t remember hector’s knife in his stomach or dying that very first time. but he remembers waking up to hades in the underworld, and he remembers the sickening realisation that he could never go back ever again –– he was here, and he was alive, and he still had to leave everything he once knew behind. 

patroclus didn’t want money or fame ; he’d only ever wanted a love to call his own and a place to call his home. and since he’d lost both already, he was tired. so he went off to work on an orange farm, right at the edge of the world –– or well, the edge of his world. he was still in greece, news travelling to them every few months or years, and it was alright. he was away from the rest of the world, labouring under the cruel sun and sleeping into the cool night, and waking up to do it all over again. he smiled at the kids on his way into town and gave them an armful of oranges each. and then when people began to wonder whywhywhy he wasn’t aging, patroclus moved on to the next village –– and then the next, and then the next. 

it was 1465 + he was in florence when he saw a lute again –– a laugh escaping him before he could start to remember when he last laughed out loud. it reminded him of home, of a long time ago. so he began to play for money and food and a place to stay. and it took him all over the world –– meeting people who’d die before he’d reach his next destination and learning things he’d never be able to forget. 

going to war became a habit. the crusades, the gallic wars, the jacobite rising, the war of the roses, the french revolution, the seven weeks war, world war i, the russian revolution, world war ii, and so very many more –– patroclus wasn’t really fighting, but he was trying. he was trying to make sure some good came out of them, that there was some death that he could stop, some blows he could take if it meant another lived. but at some point, he just couldn’t keep doing it anymore. his heart hurt and his nightmares followed him in the daylight. 

now, well –– he’s a harpist for the londinium symphony. patroclus has been her for all of about 12 years now ; he doesn’t want to move, not yet. but throughout his many, many lifetimes, he’s perfected and loved the harp –– it’s the only thing he recognises in this brave new world, and he’s going to hang onto it for as long as he can. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

survival of the stubborn: a mentor, someone patroclus met after a long, long time of being immortal, but someone who taught him to stop being completely miserable and enjoy the time they have. if it wasn’t for this person, patroclus probably wouldn’t have lasted all that long.

death becomes you: immortal friends ; the gang, the squad. the ride or dies –– so to speak. they can go decades without talking or meeting, but they get together again every fifty years and know they can rely on each other. plus, they can literally whatsapp each other now –– like, what. 

orange you glad to see me: he worked on an orange farm in greece after their first death in about 1200 BC, and met this person there. maybe this person owned the farm, maybe this person was just a guest of the owners, maybe they also worked on the farm, or maybe they just met each other in the village nearby –– but they met again years and years and years later and it was a lowkey lightbulb moment of oh, so i’m not alone out here for patroclus !! 

please turn the music off: musician friends + members of the orchestra ( mortal or immortal ) + anyone who’s into music and they might have met each other over the years !! perhaps a mentor or maybe they even totally hate each other, but just about any type of music relation !!

encore, encore: patroclus worked / played in a few different courts over the years –– always the lute or harp –– so this might be someone he might have played for !! 

tequila’s my best friend: drinking buddies !! what it says on the tin. patroclus is a miserable drinker, usually ends up spilling all of his secrets, sometimes ends up breaking things. 

the war followed me back home: patroclus served in plenty of wars until 1950 –– far too many, with new names and new titles and new ranks every time. to do some good in the world. or maybe they were just chasing their first death at hector’s hands. either way –– this is someone they might have served with !! could be a commanding officer ; a fellow soldier ; or even a doctor / nurse !!

old enemies, new friends: people he just doesn’t get along with. at all. ever. they’re always hated each other, maybe they even killed each other a few times, but just some sort of enemies !!

more to be added !!

[d4rkshad0w]

aghhh how do you always have amazing ideas😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

i think what many people forget about when it comes to ty going to cirenworth is that this most likely means that he will have to go into kit’s room… like sorry but imagine it’s just full of silly little crayon drawings from mina, unfinished school projects, random ass weapons lying around and photos of the herondale-carstairs-gray family. imagine ty sees the witchlight he gave to kit all those years ago! imagine ty sitting on kit’s bed! imagine the blushes!