#and then there's the one who has like 3 majors and is fast tracking their master's and was valedictorian in high school

[svtskneecaps]

returned from the family reunion. the verdict: my cousins are all way cooler than me. i must become cooler.

[kedsandtubesocks]

Chrysalis Heart

Din Djarin x Naboo Queen!Reader

summary: as queen you can handle many things (like the assassination attempts threatening your life) but the alluring mandalorian hired to protect you might be your heart’s biggest threat

word count: 9.2k (i’m sorry)

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. post season 3, royal & bodyguard AU, use of gendered language, threats & moments of violence, reader wears makeup/gowns/headpieces but has no physical description, hidden identity, protective!Din, discussions of marriage, forced proximity, the starfighter can fit two people in the cockpit no matter the size (canon can fight me), competency kink, major yearning, spicy themes, good sweet fluff

a/n: this is my entry for the WIRED4YOU challenge [Din + Butterflies by Kacey Mushraves] huge thanks to @chaotic-mystery for hosting & letting me join! This is also a mini love letter to “the phantom menace” & “attack of the clones” because I believe we deserve our queen moment too lol, dividers thanks & credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics

Assassination attempts on your life are, unfortunately, not new. In this final year of your reign, the threats have recently doubled though, which surprises you.

But finding out a mandalorian is now assigned to your personal guard surprises you even more.

While sitting in the throne room surveying him, you admire the striking warrior. Sleek in his ancestor armor, unwavering in his presence, you stay composed as possible but…

Curiosity blooms fast, already wondering about this new guard.

“Captain Teva highly recommended this bounty hunter.” Your head advisor, Hildegard, explains dutifully.

A bounty hunter? That’s even more interesting.

“We are glad to have you here, mandalorian.” Senator Trystan adds brightly. He starts rambling like the politician he is, and you tune him out, especially as your focus remains on the mandalorian.

“Your majesty,” the timbre of his voice is striking like a steady river. “I vow to keep you safe until the assassin is caught.”

Hiding your voice within the composed steady tone the Queen of Naboo is known for, you thank him.

With a final nod, the warrior departs.

You notice a brown satchel slung at his hip half hidden under his cloak. You swear the minute the mandalorian leaves the room, a small tiny green clawed hand crawls out from the bag.

—

“I bet he’s ugly”

“No, I’m sure he’s handsome.” You and your handmaidens have discussed the new mandalorian guard for weeks now.

He’s a rather elusive figure. Silently moving around the castle, he reminds you of a sleek phantom just out of reach. When the mandalorian does accompany you anywhere, he remains silent. You simply amount it to the warrior doing his job diligently, which you greatly appreciate.

His presence alone seems to deter any more attempts. The tension in the palace already has eased greatly. So much you now roam without any supervision along the grand lakeside today.

The glory of Naboo is one you take pride in, from the illustrious buildings, to the underwater depths of the Gungan city. You savor these moments when you can freely walk among the splendor of your planet.

There’s a secluded, normally untouched, lake villa near this area you enjoy visiting from time to time.

Until you discover it’s no longer abandoned.

The sight stops you frozen in your tracks. By the edge of the lake, under the soft shade of the looming trees, stands the mandalorian. But he is not alone.

A wonderfully tiny and precious green creature waddles around through the grass.

Both of them turn towards you. It feels like you’ve just stumbled upon an ancient secret.

“Handmaiden.” The mandalorian greets you steady, cautious.

For a split moment, you had forgotten you’re in these robes.

“Mandalorian.” You greet back, thankful you don’t have to hide your voice.

Being under the guise of a handmaid offers you this freedom.

“And may I ask, who is this little one?” You smile and kneel down to the height of the small creature staring up with starry curious eyes.

A moment passes.

“He…is my son.” His words hit you like a blaster shot.

“Your son?” The monarch mentality leaks out momentarily as your voice jumps. You never would’ve hired this hunter knowing he has a child who could be put in harm's way.

“Yes.” The mandalorian nods.

“I’ve never seen him around before.” His little hand must have been the one you saw that first day in the throne room.

The mandalorian’s son curiously shuffles to you. You don’t miss his father’s fists clenching tense, hesitant and cautious, worried about this interaction.

“I…was not sure the queen would allow him to accompany me. So I keep him hidden.”

The baby is adorable with shimmering eager eyes. He rests his tiny hands against your robes. You can hear all your advisors screaming at you to consider releasing this hunter from your duty.

But you can’t now. Not when you tickle his son’s chin and the little one giggles sweet like a bell.

“Don’t worry,” you tell the mandalorian confidently. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“And besides,” you add casually. “Between you and me…The Queen won’t mind. She has a soft spot for little ones.”

You smile as the baby, now deeming you worthy, starts climbing onto your knee.

“What’s his name?” You ask.

“…Grogu.” The mandalorian answers.

As if on cue, Grogu chirps hearing his name and you laugh.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Grogu.” You nod then gently poke his tiny nose.

Infectious giggles greet you.

You then officially introduce yourself to the youngling, and in turn his father, freely giving your name.

Again you can almost hear all your advisors' horrified screams. Of all the things sacred and needed to be hidden, your name is the most important.

Even though the crown keeps you protected under an alias, it doesn’t mean your true identity is forever safe.

But you believe you can trust this warrior.

Or you hope so.

The University’s belltower rings off in the distance. You didn’t realize how late it got. You’d need to head back soon.

Grogu chirps confused when you softly place him back on the grass. His bright moon eyes almost make you stay longer.

“It was wonderful meeting you Grogu. I hope I can see you again soon.” You truthfully tell the little one.

Then you glance at his father.

You knew enough about mandalorian culture to understand how precious children are to them and how protective they are of their own.

Grateful for this moment, you thank the mandalorian for allowing you to meet his son.

Without another word, the warrior silently nods.

This strong hunter with the most adorable son plagues your mind the rest of the day. So much that you rearrange your calendar so you’re available to walk along the lake again.

You continue sneaking back to the lake home as much as you can.

The moments here away from the palace, from the politics and headache, are a precious respite. Currently Grogu watches enraptured by the butterflies fluttering in the air.

You glance back at the lake house secluded in the lush countryside and how it perfectly fits a mandalorian.

“Is this where you’re staying?” You ask.

“Yes. Unless I’m needed at the palace.” The mandalorian answers.

“Thankfully it’s been rather quiet again since you’ve arrived. So I’m grateful for that.” You speak as both handmaid and queen.

“I…” the warrior begins then stops, as if realizing he shouldn’t be saying much.

“You can talk freely. Trust me, whatever you say the queen probably already knows.” You almost dryly laugh at your own joke.

The hunter nods.

“I believe the threat is still at large. Simply hiding and waiting for the right time.” He admits strained.

You agree. It’s what everyone close to you believes as well.

There have been whispers, rumors, of a darkness looming among the edges of space. Now it seems to be slithering into your home.

But for now, you simply hold onto these glimmers of peace - like watching Grogu chase after the butterflies among the field.

His little claws reach for the soft colored creatures, and you think of your own childhood days where you chased after them too. You remember the trick your old tutor taught you when you were little.

So holding out your finger, you wait. Patience pays off. A lone butterfly flutters to land on your finger believing it to be a branch.

Grogu instantly notices, makes a noise of surprise, and scurries over.

But his fast movement scares the butterfly, and it rapidly flies away. The sad confused noise Grogu gives breaks your heart.

“It’s alright, they just get frightened easily.” You explain.

So again you hold your finger out, a welcoming rest spot. This time you place it closer to the baby.

Another butterfly thankfully floats down on your finger.

“Bweh!” Grogu shrieks giddy.

Very steadily, you move your finger closer to Grogu trying not to scare the bug.

“Here… can I see your hand, little one?” You softly ask.

The mandalorian helps his son out, raising Grogu’s little claw besides yours.

The butterfly gently wanders from your finger to Grogu’s hand, and the sweet baby giggles in pure joy.

The bug of course doesn’t stay long and flutters away. But it brings enough excitement to Grougu. He’s completely taken over by twinkling giggles the rest of the time, eagerly chasing after more butterflies.

“Are you often away from the queen for this long?” The mandalorian’s sudden curious question takes you by surprise.

“As long as one handmaiden is with the queen, no protocol is broken.” You effortlessly recite the mandate.

“Besides, we all deserve a bit of fresh air and some time alone.” You add.

From the corner of your eye, the mandalorian nods.

Then, the belltower rings signaling your return.

Grogu, now in his fathers arms, waves at you goodbye then yawns.

Wishing the little one good night you, you then bid the same goodbye to his father.

“Take care, mandalorian.”

“…Din...”

The phrase stills you.

“My name is Din.” He reveals. “Seems only fair since you gave me yours.”

Din, it fits him beautifully.

“Until next time, Din.” A grateful glow swirls in you knowing his name.

You vow to keep it sealed safe in your heart. You wouldn’t be able to use his name while wearing the crown anyway. Faintly, it reminds you how in the same way the mandalorian, Din, would never know your true name as queen.

That realization digs a hollow hole into your heart.

—

Peace doesn’t last long.

The assassin fires shots from one of the high towers near the capitol. Chaos erupts wild and dizzying, sending everyone into a panic.

Except the mandalorian, Din.

Effortlessly he jumps in front of you blocking the second blaster shot with his armor, a literal shield before you.

Once you’re secured safely, your eyes widen witnessing Din in action, flying up to the tower.

Even with the distance, you catch glimpses of the mandalorian fighting before you’re escorted away.

And he’s marvelous.

There’s a swift deadly power to him, a legend of myth right before your eyes.

Then he’s by your side again.

“Are you alright?” He immediately asks returning to you breathless.

You want to ask if he’s the one alright, if Grogu is with him. Instead all you can do is nod, earnestly thanking him.

“He’s doing his job, m’lady.” Hildegard jokes.

But it’s true.

You’re getting tangled in a web of emotions over a man who will vanish from your life once the threats are eradicated.

Yet it still doesn’t stop you from visiting him again. It takes more convincing this time to sneak away, but you’re thankful you still can.

Worried you’ll miss seeing Din and his son, you rush to the lakeside. But you forget how hot the handmaiden robes can get, and exhaustion hits.

Your heart drops seeing the field vacant.

Guess you were too late.

Exhausted and annoyed at yourself, you rip back the robe’s hood allowing yourself a relief of air before you dejectedly walk back to the palace.

Someone says your name, your true name.

Din steps out from the villa, a sleek beautiful hunter emerging from the shadows.

Soon he stands frozen, his sleek helmet focused on you. A moment passes, an awkward stand off of you and him simply staring at each other.

Petrified, you suddenly realize you’re facing the mandalorian without any cover or protection of the robe’s hood.

“Sorry, you must be busy.” You blurt, ready to turn around and scurry away.

Din again says your name.

“It’s fine. I was just gathering my things.” He explains.

“Oh?” The confusion in your voice or on your face must be embarrassingly blatant for him to explain.

“I’ll be staying at the palace full time after today.”

Oh… so you’ll be seeing him more.

“You were amazing today.” Admiration flows from you.

He thanks you with a hesitant mumble, vaguely shy.

“Are you alright? Is Grogu okay?” You immediately ask, knowing those questions have been bothering you since this morning.

“We’re both fine. You should be worried about the Queen.” Din replies firm.

“The queen’s fine.” You snort, hoping he doesn’t notice your dryly amused tone.

“There was an amazing mandalorian that made sure everyone was safe after all.” You mean those words.

Din stays quiet keeping his helmet directed on you. A dread sets in, worried if you’ve overstepped or said something you shouldn’t have.

The sun has just set over the horizon casting an illuminating glow on the planet. It paints the mandalorian a shining warrior bathed in golden glory.

You wonder if you’re staring at him too much.

A familiar coo arrives, and soon after Grogu waddles out of the villa. Witnessing this armored warrior move to cradle his son, who snuggles into his father’s arms, unfolds a warm wave in you.

“I’ll let you two get back to your evening,” you smile gentle as Grogu yawns adorably in agreement.

“And I guess I’ll be seeing you around more.” You half joke with Din.

He dryly chuckles, and the sound is a gift.

“If you’re heading back to the palace I can return with you. So that you’re not walking alone.” He offers and your eyes go wide.

You immediately accept his offer.

With a nudge of his helmet you follow him inside the cabin. The layout is similar to all the other lake homes, except a cluster of weapons sit on the table. You’re in awe knowing he knows how to handle so many of these.

Grogu now wiggles fussy in Din’s hold.

“Here, I can take him.” You offer.

Hearing your words immediately Grogu lifts his little arms towards you ready to be carried.

“Kid,” Din dully sighs.

You reassure Din and happily scoop the baby up. Feeling him snuggle against your shoulder is a precious thing

Din goes silent and returns to gathering his belongings.

Now the night sky casts a blanket of midnight blue over the lake.

Out of the villa, a gleam of silver draws your attention. You inhale sharp but try staying quiet with Grogu sleeping peacefully in your arms.

“Is that a N-1 Starfighter?” Your voice, even whispering, jumps shocked. The familiar bright yellow coating has been stripped, but you could recognize that ship anywhere.

Din chuckles beside you.

“You know your ships.” He sounds impressed.

You didn’t. You just know that one.

You remember seeing the starfighters in your history lessons. They looked like beautiful sea creatures soaring among the clouds. You were heartbroken finding out they were retired.

You even tell all of this to Din.

A humorous thought emerges. You wonder if one dramatic last act as Queen could be you reinstating the starfighters.

“How does it fly?” You ask Din curiously.

“Like a dream.” His wistful voice lets your mind soar into a daydream wondering what it would be like to witness the N1.

“Maybe one day you’ll see it fly.” Din offers and you turn to him, grinning.

“Now that would be a dream.” You warmly mirror his phrase.

If you manage to make it through your final days as Queen, maybe you could beg the mandalorian to let you see the ship in action.

The walk to the palace is peaceful among the lake. You treasure Grogu snoring soundly in your arms, and you’re thankful Din allows you to hold his son.

But approaching the palace, you return the baby back to his father to hide him, just in case.

Your instincts are right. At the very edge of the palace steps, all your advisors, along with the senator and his aids, wait anxiously.

You stayed out too late.

Immediately they spot you with the mandalorian, and the reactions are mixed. You’re however more worried when Din reacts.

“Seems you were needed.” He comments.

“I stayed out later than planned, that’s all.” You half lie.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” You joke again, and he nods.

Even though you made the joke, you do end up seeing Din much more.

Except as the Queen of Naboo.

He stays in your personal guard close to the head captain. Even when you return to your private study, you’re surprised Din stays, truly acting as a loyal personal guard.

While overlooking legislation orders, a rustling comes. Off to the side, the mandalorian fidgets with his satchel.

Grogu.

“Mandalorian,” you speak in your composed tone. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” He huffs, trying to sound calm himself.

But it’s too late. One of Grogu’s adorable ears pops out from the satchel. And despite his father’s best attempts to settle him, the baby pokes his entire head out.

Two of your handmaidens gasp excited.

“I apologize.” Din quickly stammers.

You don’t even hide the grin on your face seeing the baby.

“No need to apologize. I’m quite fond of little ones.” You assure Din, remembering what you told him previously.

“Mweh.” Grogu squeaks glancing around at the new room with sparkling curious eyes.

Your handmaidens are already smitten, trying not to rush over to him.

“Is it a pet?” One asks eager.

“No.” Din bluntly answers, and you even feel a bit insulted for him.

Ever the trouble maker, Grogu climbs out of the bag and starts waddling around exploring with ease.

“Kid.” Din sighs, a frustrated parent, and your handmaidens giggle amused.

“It’s fine, mandalorian.” You again reassure him.

Grogu turns to blink curiously up at you. Under the thick ceremonial makeup, wearing your ornate headpiece, you understand how strange you must look to a child.

Instantly he scurries towards you, little clawed hands grabbing the air signaling he wants to be picked up.

Panic seizes your breath.

There’s no way Grogu could recognize you. You rationalize that this is simply him finding your Queen persona interesting.

Din moves to snag Grogu, even saying his name sharp and reprimanding.

But you chuckle swooping down to the little creature first. Your gown today weighs heavier, yet you don’t mind knowing Grogu gets to settle in your arms.

His sweet eyes search your face. You smile politely and gentle. Then his tiny hands press against your cheeks, and a bright smile lights up his face.

And you can’t help it, you smile back.

The curious eyes of your handmaidens burn holes into your face. They whisper like a pack of loth cats plotting their next attack. So diverting their attention you place Grogu back down on the ground letting him roam.

Immediately your handmaids rush kneeling at the baby’s level, completely captivated by the new arrival.

“He seems to enjoy the attention.” You tell Din.

The mandalorian simply hums, an agreeing sound.

You wonder if he’s upset or possibly nervous about all of this.

“Please know he is safe here and free to roam.” You say encouraging, hoping to soothe the tension.

“Thank you…m’lady.” Din replies low, and your heart trips over itself.

It’s the first time he’s ever addressed you by the proper title, and his voice sparks a wildfire.

After this introduction, Grogu happily now enjoys being carried in the arms of your handmaidens or resting openly in Din’s satchel. A little wave of jealousy rises when the baby plays with one of your handmaids during a council meeting. You ache to trade places with her more than ever.

Seeing his son giggle freely unhidden relaxed Din more. He starts walking besides the captain of your guard and chatting with her, the two of them now easy comrades.

Now Din steps in pace right behind you, a beskar coated shadow you think of often.

During a particularly rainy day, you accidentally slip among the sleek stair tiles.

Immediately Din grabs you fast, steadying you from falling. His hand, unwavering and strong, holds you. Your heart thrashes furiously hearing his magnetic voice so close asking if you’re alright.

This unfortunate infatuation towards the mandalorian blooms a wicked weed digging its roots into your heart, and it’s become more unbearable.

Thankfully, your final months as Queen help keep your mind mostly occupied.

After meeting with the current Gungan Boss, you sigh exhausted.

Glancing at the wall, the portraits of monarchs past loom watching you, waiting to see what you do next.

“Many of the queens seem… younger than you.” Din suddenly comments observing the previous rulers.

“Are you calling me old, mandalorian?” You tease as much as your steeled composed tone allows.

“I…” he’s stunned, taken off guard for a minute. It’s adorable. For a split moment you smirk, keeping a laugh firmly locked away.

“I jest.” You recover quickly.

You explain how customarily many of the previous rulers were chosen at a young age, some even children. The belief was that those who possessed a child like wonder and wisdom should rule. Of course, that slowly faded away over time.

“And when the empire arrived?” Din asks.

When the Moff assigned to Naboo arrived, dark days followed. Terror seemed to choke your planet. You quietly tell Din of this.

“I…understand. I’ve seen the damage that can be done because of a Moff’s rule.” An ancient sorrow hangs within his voice.

Your eyes flicker to the shining warrior besides you. Din is striking, incredibly so. A selfish desire grows wishing to know him more, to know the face of the man taking residence in your heart.

Until another asassination attempt reminds you danger persistently lurks ready to steal your peace.

One of the food testers in the kitchen has a dangerous reaction to your meal. Thankfully she is tended to in time and will make it. But these threats grow deadlier.

“This might be … when we should start considering you going into hiding, m’lady.” One of your advisors suggests.

Those words hang over you an ominous storm.

After the recent attempt, you hide in handmaiden robes more.

You shouldn’t be wandering around this late in the night among the hallways, but you can’t sleep.

Turning the corner, you stumble upon Din standing by the hallway’s edge. He focuses on his transmitter, reading a holo message.

Ever a warrior, his keen senses notice someone else is here and he looks up. Not wanting to startle him, you pull back the robe’s hood to reveal yourself.

He exhales your name, and it flutters into your heart.

“It’s been a while.” You sleepily grin.

“Indeed.” He nods, and his voice sounds warmer.

“Been a bit busy around here.” You joke, but a somberness hangs.

“It has.” Even his reply mirrors the underlying tension.

“It’s also been difficult trying to figure out which handmaiden you are.” Din says, as if trying to break the thick tense clouds.

You laugh, and it’s freeing.

“That means it’s working.” You snicker. “No one should know who a handmaid is, much less what they look like.”

Each handmaiden was handpicked because of how similarly they fit your height and vaguely your appearance.

Handmaids are the silent heroes of the crown, quiet protectors ready to step in and surround you any given moment. Guilt festers in you knowing their lives are at risk too.

“And yet… you let me see you.” Din curiously notes, and your chest tightens.

“Well, I trust you.” You tell him simply. And you do, completely and irrevocably.

“Besides, if you decide to do anything suspicious the Queen would be the first to know.” You jest, enjoying the double meaning.

“Never.” He shakes his head earnest.

Under the lowlights of the hallway, Din steps closer. Your fingers itch to touch his beskar, to run the cool armor beneath your touch.

You wonder every night what color his eyes are.

The sound of glass shattering erupts, and suddenly the world blurs. You’re in Din’s arms falling to the floor.

His hand cradles your head from colliding on the hard marble floor. But you don’t have time to process that. Instantly you reach for the small blade hidden in your robes.

“Are you alright?” Din rapidly asks, and you nod stunned.

Someone shot at you through the window.

Someone knows who you are.

—

“You must go into hiding,” Hildegard, ever your most trusted and wise advisor, urges begging now.

Stubborn, feeling raw, exposed, you sit in angered silence. No makeup on, no crown, just a simple soul at the mercy of fate.

“Maybe we should keep the queen here?” Senator Trystan suggests.

“Because…to me, it seems like the Mandalorian isn’t quite living up to the legends told of his people.” He adds dangerously untrusting.

A blazing fury bursts in you.

“I’m alive because of him.” You snap glaring at the senator.

“And he is the only one I’ll trust accompanying me if I must go into hiding.” Your declaration rings absolute, the voice of a ruler.

Yet that night you can’t sleep. Neither can your handmaidens, especially with how curious they are.

“So…are you going to tell us what you were doing with Mando in the hallway?” One of them asks curiously.

Partially lying, you say how you couldn’t sleep and simply ran into him.

“Are you having secret rendezvous meetings with the mandalorian and haven’t been telling us?!” Another handmaiden shrieks giddy, and you rapidly deny.

But it’s hard when the fluttering feelings in your stomach now thrash wanting to fully take flight and escape, revealing your truth.

As playfully pestering as they are, this time with your handmaidens lightens your spirits immensely.

Because you know the looming decision.

The spring equinox here on Naboo will be your official final outing as ruler. That day, you’ll give your final address to the planet, sign your final law into action at the gala, then step down in the eyes of the New Republic.

It will be a momentous day.

For one month until then… you’ll be in hiding.

One moon cycle away from Naboo.

But as declared, you’ll be departing alone with the mandalorian.

A war rages in your heart as you clutch your small pack.

You wish to stay and fight, stand your ground. Yet you understand the danger that will come if you stay.

So walking into the darkness alone, you find a gleaming warrior among it.

A curt nod is how he greets you.

Din has been quiet since your identity was revealed. You wonder if he’s disappointed or angry knowing who you are.

But all the emotions get shoved aside when you see your mode of transportation.

The starfighter gleams glorious under the moonlight.

“Will we fit?” You wonder aloud a bit hesitant.

“Might be a tight squeeze, but we’ll make it. The trip is not too far.” Din answers and his voice again does strange things to your heart.

He wasn’t lying about the tight fit.

You’re practically slotted between his legs in the compact pilot’s seat. His arms reach around you effortlessly readying the systems. Your mind goes over boring litigations and mandates trying not to let it wander into dangerous territory.

Then, the ship bolts to life airborne.

Immediately your gaze flickers back to your home planet watching it drift further away in the night sky.

“Don’t worry,” Din suddenly mutters, comforting. “Everyone will be fine.”

You swallow hard and nod.

The atmosphere dissipates all around until you’re among a sea of stars.

“So…you’re Queen of Naboo.” Din speaks first. It feels like a peace offering.

Your lips twitch back a laugh.

“Apparently.” You joke.

His chuckle lightens the ache trying to consume you.

The trip, as promised, isn’t far.

Nevarro resides in the outer rim. Even though Naboo is considered mid-rim, its bordering location is close to the outer rim, so you know of Nevarro. The planet’s growth and evolution has been admirable to witness.

You find it’s easy to settle in and embrace the planet wholeheartedly.

Or… you embrace Din’s world wholeheartedly.

His home sits peaceful at the edge of the lava flats. You begged him to let you stay at an inn in town so you wouldn’t be a bother. He adamantly shut that option down.

“Being here means I can keep you safe.” He explained.

So now you take the spare room in Din’s abode. The spartan walls, bare minimum furniture, they all strangely perfectly reflect Din. But you enjoy spotting the various stuffed toys littering the floors.

Grogu enjoys being back at home, showing you the pond he loves chasing creatures around.

Suddenly he magically lifts a small frog into the air and you gasp. These abilities…

In secret, you briefly had studied the Jedi, the ways of the force, and knew of the strange abilities that came with it.

“He can use the force?!” You squak, turning to Din.

The mandalorian simply tells you it’s complicated. You don’t press the topic. Yet it makes sense now remembering how Grogu was able to notice you single you out even in your makeup.

He really is a special star. His giggles brighten the home, a joyous little light.

Currently he sleeps peacefully in your arms, bully full from the dinner you cooked.

“A queen who knows how to cook?” Din had joked earlier when went into the market to grab supplies.

“I haven’t always been queen.” You huffed back.

You had a life before your crown, but now you wonder how it will look after.

“What was it like before you were queen?” Sitting besides you outside on the porch, you’re surprised Din is this curious.

This spot here is quickly becoming a favorite of yours. The warm Nevarro air floats thicker than Naboo, yet there’s a gentle comfort to it.

You tell Din of your early university days, secretly holding a dream of abandoning everything to become a rebel spy.

“A spy?” His voice curls amused, and you wish you could see his face.

“I read too many adventure romance tales.” You shrug.

You used to dream of meeting a handsome rebel pilot while fighting for your home planet and then falling in love.

Now your dreams only contain a warrior clad in beskar.

“Were you always a bounty hunter?” You now question Din about his life as much as you can.

You treasure all he gives you, telling you about days hunting bounties across the galaxy until he stumbled upon a certain little green creature.

The mudhorn, the empire hunting Grogu, the days they spent apart from each other… It all led to Din gaining a son. And it’s all because of that single bounty.

“Your job led you to a wonderful gift.” You fondly praise while Grogu snores peacefully against your shoulder.

“Yes...” Din agrees, yet his voice seems to trail off.

“After you step down, what will happen to you?” He softly changes the subject, pressing another question.

One that strikes deep.

“There are two recommended options…” you mutter.

The first choice is to marry a noble and stay within the royal sphere.

The other option is becoming a senator.

For some reason, your heart doesn’t feel compelled thinking of either option.

You aren’t attracted to any of the nobles trying to court you. And the role of a senator is demanding. You already feel frustrated with the state of politics and after being around it for this long…you wish for quieter days.

“What if you don’t want either?” Din sounds somber, yet inquisitive.

You suppose you could simply walk away from everything, slip into the galaxy to become another soul simply passing through.

You’ve never given that option much thought.

“You could stay here.” Din says, and a burst of light crashes into your chest.

Here? With him?

“Nevarro has good housing options. You would always be welcomed here.”

Then his second comment, more formal in tone, becomes a splash of water immediately diminishing any hope wanting to ignite you. You weakly grin.

“You just want me nearby for the free babysitting services.” You joke hoping to quell the heartbreak trying to leak in.

He chuckles amused.

You still earnestly thank him for the offer. But now, the future looms more nebulous than ever.

—

Through secret comlinks and encrypted messages, you discover another assassin tried striking the palace.

“You think it’s a group at work?” You ask Din, sounding more like the concerned ruler you are.

“No, it feels too planned, like the culprit is trying to mislead us or lure you back.” And he sounds like the sharp skilled hunter he is.

“May I ask… why does someone want you dead?” He questions hesitant.

You sigh.

The last law you want to sign into action would undo a final decree the Moff put into order. You want all traces of that evil gone.

“It could be an old sympathizer wanting to stop you.” Din immediately concludes.

That doesn’t narrow down any choices. But you suspect the assassin is connected to someone within your circle since they knew when to attack you even as a handmaid.

Paranoia has you restless, on edge. It’s why you return to your blade.

The familiar self defense moves flow through you. Simple, effective, enough to strike before you can try making an escape.

“Your arms need to move faster.”

You swore Din had been working on the starfighter and with Grogu down for the night, you took the alone time to practice among the fading twilight.

Now he saunters to you eased.

“Your arms have the right motion. They just aren’t steady.” He instructs.

“Well it would be different if someone was attacking me.” You scoff.

“Alright then,” something excited sparks in Din’s voice. “Spar with me.”

You think you misheard him. Then Din pulls out a seasoned, rather deadly looking, vibroblade and stands at the ready.

You stammer out excuses. There’s no way you can fight a mandalorian.

Suddenly he strikes first. Din rushes fast, darting forward and swinging his blade to swipe at you.

It becomes a fast dance, evading and dodging as Din attacks unrelentlessly.

“You haven’t tried striking me.” He doesn’t even sound tired while you’re barely hanging on.

“Because I have a mandalorian after me!” You wheeze frantic, and he chuckles.

Din stops his offensive and places his blade away.

“The way I moved is how you should.”

“I’m not a trained warrior.” You huff catching your breath. Even without seeing his eyes, the way his helmet tilts you know he’s rolling his eyes.

Gently, his gloved hands slide to your arms, and you freeze. Your mind momentarily shutting down. He touches you gingerly, delicate. Then he begins maneuvering you into the same stance he was in.

In a steady patient voice, Din explains every move and guides you through them. The close position, feeling his sturdy build pressing against you, the way his voice oozes with a gentle dominance, it overwhelms you.

Din makes you go through the motions repeatedly, a patient teacher.

“Your stance is good. You were taught well.” He admires, and you shakily thank him.

“Had to be ready as both queen and handmaid just in case.” You say lighthearted trying to battle the raging emotions swirling like a dangerous riptide.

“At first I didn’t understand your guard system or the handmaidens.” Din explains.

“Now I see why you go to great lengths to hide your identity. It reminds me of mandalorian tradition and why we hide our faces.” Din’s voice floats out kind and gentle.

The realization unfurls in you quietly that you almost miss it. You and him have run parallel in different ways, wearing masks to protect yourself and your people.

You’re grateful the force brought you to this man, one you will always hold in your heart even when fate decides to take him away.

You and him practice late into the night. He even lets you spar with his blade. Surprisingly, you take to it well, and Din even notices.

“Keep it.”

You gawk, stunned at his words. Immediately panicking, you tell Din you could never take a weapon from a mandalorian.

“I have another. And trust me, it will be useful if…I’m not around.”

His somber words dig into you, another sharpened knife, one you wish he could take back.

—

Your final week on Nevarro approaches and sorrow tangles itself around you constricting. You’ve grown attached to this planet. You’ve made friends with the floral shop keeper. The merchant who sells your favorite dried fruits now jokes with Din wondering how a grumpy mandalorian snagged someone as lovely as you.

You laugh weakly at the jokes, yet Din stays silent.

The silence has multiplied between you and Din, creating a terrifying canyon separating you from him.

Grogu senses it. Whimpering, he stubbornly tries hanging onto both you and Din more.

You shove away tears at night.

This dream, this carved out home you’ve started settling into…you knew it was going to end eventually. You just became so foolish hoping it wouldn’t.

Slowly, you start packing, childishly dragging your feet as if it will prolong your stay.

A knock arrives at your door, and it slides open.

“Can I show you something?” Din’s voice, hesitant and cautious, snaps your spine straight.

You agree without hesitation.

With Grogu currently enjoying a play date with one of the children in town, it’s just you and Din together for the day.

But you regret your choice of not accompanying the baby when you realize you’ll be jumping back into the starfighter.

Having Din’s arms enclosed around you, his strong chest pressing against your back, all the close proximity heats your skin, a reminder of what you’ll be losing in just a few days.

“You said you wanted to one day see how she flies.” Din says soft.

You technically had seen her fly when Din brought you here. Unfortunately your mind was so foggy you honestly couldn’t savor the journey.

“You didn’t get to see much last time. So…Let’s stretch out her legs.” Din’s voice holds a proud smile.

Your eyes widen. He remembered. Before you can say anything else, you become one with the wind.

Din was right. The N1 soars like a dream. She glides gracefully among the craters and canyons, dipping low among the lava flats and zooming with ease past the town.

But you also realize, Din is an amazing pilot. He effortlessly maneuvers the ship with a fluid flow and striking awareness. As if you couldn’t be anymore attracted to him, knowing he’s not just an amazing warrior but an incredible pilot makes your blood hum.

“You’re amazing.” You tell him earnest and true.

You swear his arms curl around you tighter.

“Ready to see the best part.” He purrs, sounding eager.

“Wait, best part?” You can’t imagine what’s next.

He points to a switch and when he hits it, you fly out of your body reaching a speed you never expected.

And it’s dazzling.

You laugh bright and alive. The weightless sensation overflows into your bones.

The atmosphere melts away as Din pushes the ship to the very edges of the planet.

The stars float just out of your reach, twinkling with knowing eyes.

Suddenly, Din lets the ship drop. The N1 plummets into a free fall that has your stomach jumping into your mouth. You almost scream.

In the descent, Din quickly spins the starfighter swiftly, a dramatic turn that sends it flying fast in a new direction. The move is a trick, one he seems to be showing off proudly.

You laugh breathlessly relieved.

“You know I’m still queen. I can punish you for that!” You wheeze.

“I’d like to see you try, m’lady.” He challenges back amused. You grin wild and greedy hearing the title.

The flight, the exhilaration, it dissipates the tension of this week, almost purifying you. Because now you notice… you’ve fully melted against Din’s chest.

Your head even leans back to rest against his helmet.

Yet Din hasn’t moved you.

The silence thickens as he flies the ship back towards town.

“Thank you for showing me this.” You mutter, barely able to get those words out.

Din’s helmet nods moving against the side of your head. One of his hands leaves the control panel and gently rests against your thigh.

You and him remain this close the rest of the flight.

The next time you’re in the N1 -

You’re flying home to Naboo.

The entire flight is silent.

You sit as furthest away from him as physically possible within the cramped space. Din maneuvers the controls and trying to keep yourself steeled, composed, your eyes focus on his movements.

That’s when you catch it.

His gloves shift and a sliver of his skin is exposed.

Sun kissed and beautiful, you think you just imagined it. Until you notice it again when Din steers the ship out of the atmosphere.

Countless nights you thought about what he looked like under his helmet, wondering how his lips would feel against yours. Now you’re allowed this one small peek at the man beneath the armor, and a dangerous greed immediately slithers in.

Your lips ache to kiss that spot, that glimmer of Din unmasked.

Greed morphs into a deadly lust. You imagine yourself, if you were braver, grabbing his wrist and lifting it to your lips to kiss him, taste him, at least once.

How would he react if you did that? Embrace you? Reprimand you?

Punish you in a way that turns filthy…

You wonder how extra tight l this cramped space would be trying to ride him in, to feel the heat between you and him build into a blazing cloud. Even now, if you concentrate hard enough in this terrifyingly quiet flight, you can hear his soft breathing, his gentle exhales modulated through the helmet.

Your mind melts thinking of him whispering deep against your ear as he thrusts up into you-

Instantly your mouth goes dry at the erotic thought and you close your eyes, trying to reset yourself.

When you open your eyes, Naboo approaches fast, a gorgeous gemstone among the stars. Your dreams and lustful wishes shatter like broken titles leaving you feeling empty to pick up the pieces.

—

Your final gown as Queen gleams stitched with a final goodbye. It’s glorious, dripping in grandeur and beauty. Wearing it, clusters of emotions clash with each other. You’ve allowed yourself a minute alone just to compose yourself. Giving one final glance at a mirror, you silently bid farewell to this piece of you.

A knock comes, and one of your handmaid's pops her head into the room.

“Senator Trystan wishes to speak with you.”

Of course you let him in.

The familiar face beams at you proud.

“You look splendid, m’lady.” The senator bows his head, and you thank him.

He updates you on the various monarchs and other planetary senators who have arrived. Your mind unfortunately only thinks of one beskar wearing guest.

Tonight is your last night with Din. Once the grand event finishes and if you remain safe, he would receive his hefty sum. Your paths will seperate.

He hasn’t spoken more than five words to you since you’ve returned. You’ve barely seen Grogu either.

You understand the rush of trying to prepare for everything has kept you busy. But you catch the looks your handmaidens give you of heartbroken understanding as though they can sense the turmoil in you.

Your mind, even now, feels like it could burst holding so many thoughts.

Then footsteps stamped forward.

The senator, blade in hand, lunges at you.

A surprised scream escapes you before you swiftly move, jumping into action.

Pulling out your vibroblade, Din’s blade, you swipe at the traitor.

The moves Din taught, his weapon, they become your saving grace.

You keep the attacker on his toes. But Senator Trystan acts fast stepping on your gown causing you to trip before you can run to the door.

You fall hard onto the floor. Hissing in pain, your eyes close.

Move, a voice in your head sounding intensely like Din, urges you to react.

Then a thundering collision crashes into your chambers, and your eyes snap open.

One moment the senator stands poised above you, blade in hand ready to attack. The next he’s gone.

Scrambling up, you discover Din wrestling Senator Trystan onto the floor.

“The Moff was right!” The traitor screams in anger trying hard to thrash against Din’s hold.

“You’re pathetic!” You snarl back.

“You are ruining our world!” Sentaro Trystan screeches staring you down. “Long live the empire-”

Din aggressively knocks the raging senator unconscious.

Immediately your handmaidens and a few healers rush to your side tending to you, trying to calm you down.

A thick haze swirls in your mind. Senator Trystan was the one behind the assassinations. Why hadn’t you noticed it?

Suddenly a warm gloved hand grabs yours and squeezes. Blinking out of the mental haze, Din now kneels before you. The stark black visor of his helmet stares unwavering.

He whispers your name.

Tiny little hands climb their way up your gown. Glancing down, you find Grogu staring up and whimpering worried. You stroke his soft head and it eases you and him both.

“Are you alright, m’lady?” Din asks cautious, concerned.

You nod still slightly overwhelmed.

“I owe you my life, mandalorian.” You tell him through a shaking voice.

Din doesn't reply, instead squeezes your hand tighter. The exhaustion slowly creeping into your body begs you to lean forward, to rest against Din’s shoulder. But you don’t know how he’ll react.

And even if you did try to lean on him, you noticed your grand headpiece would’ve gotten in the way of you moving closer to Din, a literal barrier reminding you of the truth.

New Republic officers along with the rest of your advisors and guards storm in.

You’re grateful the threat is over, eternally in debt to Din. But the truth settles in cold and bleak. Your time is up. The mandalorian will be leaving you.

“Your reward will be doubled.” Hildegard says grateful through tears patting Din on the shoulder.

“I was just…doing my job.” He nods curt.

A job, that’s all you are.

You eventually hand Grogu to one of your handmaidens. This night will be busy. Din however refuses to leave your side.

“She needs to rest.” Din orders sharp after realizing you’re still attending the gala.

“I can rest once this is all over.” Your monarch's voice, the voice of a queen, slips in.

Din remains silent.

Even though you feel caught in the waves of a turbulent sea, a queen must bottle all those things and store them away.

So wearing your crown proudly, you sign your final law into motion and hold your head high.

The previous queens still alive arrive at your side. You kneel, and their hands lift the weight of a planet from you.

Queen no more.

Among the roar of applause, among the illustrious crowd, your eyes only seek out one guest.

Din leans against a column, hands crossed over his chest sticking out a sore thumb. And he’s beautiful.

“I suppose you want this back.” You hold out his blade waiting for him to take it.

His helmet shakes an adamant no.

“I told you, it’s yours now. Knowing it kept you safe is even more reason for you to keep it.”

A thick sorrow and adoration, the strangest mixture, shred your heart wide open. But under the glimmering lights, along the magnificent marble ballroom, you have to seal everything away tight.

The Gala is a gorgeous celebration, the triumph of Naboo slowly returning to its beauty. The Gungan Boss teases how his nephew would make a fine match now that you’re available for marriage. He isn’t the only one making suggestions.

Many suitors from noble families blatantly make their courting intentions known. You smile with as much grace as you can.

One of the noblemen, a man you vaguely remember from your university days, even gets bold and places a kiss on your hand when he bids you farewell.

“It seems royal marriage is what everyone wants for you.” Din comments stiffly.

You stay quiet, numb.

“What do you want?” He asks.

Your eyes return to him, his glorious helmet, and you wish more than ever to know his eyes.

“What I want doesn’t matter.” You reply just as stiff.

“But it does. You deserve to make that decision.” He argues low, deadly, reminding you of the bounty hunter he is.

“Maybe who I want doesn’t want me back.” Your words strike sharp under your breath.

“Who…who do you want?”

Terror barrels in hearing Din’s question. You didn’t even realize you had said who.

Din’s stare, even without seeing his eyes, is unflinching.

An overwhelming panic overtakes you like a feral rancor.

So you flee, scurrying away fast.

Immediately you tell your advisors and handmaidens you need to be excused, saying how the rush of the night has finally caught up to you.

Understanding, everyone allows you to slip away from the gala’s ballroom towards the palace.

But ever the persistent shadow, Din stays close behind.

“I don’t need your services anymore, mandalorian.” You snap, refusing to turn around to him.

“I’m your guard until the night ends.” He growls back.

“I thought our agreement was fulfilled when the threat was discovered. Besides, my crown is gone. You can leave Din Djarin.” Your voice bounces off the empty hallways like an angered ghost.

Earlier, the new republic officers had scanned his chaincode and when you heard his full name, it felt like a final goodbye.

“Is that what you want? For me to leave?” Din’s tone cuts deadly, stopping you in the middle of the hallway.

You don’t want him to go. You never want to leave him.

Din says your name, pleading.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. Leave.” You robotically order, except your voice cracks, and you regret speaking.

You force yourself to move forward.

He doesn’t follow, and your footsteps echo alone in the hallway.

Arriving at your chambers, your hands shake as you wipe away tears.

Queen no more, now all alone.

A solid knock arrives at your door making you jump out of your skin.

Still worried from earlier, you cautiously open the door, holding Din’s blade at the ready.

Then you slide it open fully and let the weapon drop instantly.

Din stands in the doorway.

“Tell me what you want, who it is you want. And then you will never see me again.” A plea aches in the mandalorian’s voice.

“It’s you, Din…” you sob, unable to hold it in anymore. “I want you, you ridiculously stubborn man-”

His warmth is engulfing. His strong arms wrap around you tight with the promise of never letting go. Beskar presses hard and unyielding, but you welcome it.

Your arms wrap around him just as tight.

“When I thought you were just a handmaid, I searched for you every time and I felt guilty. I knew my loyalty needed to be with the queen, when all I wanted to do was protect you.” His voice whispers soft, tender, soaking into your bones.

“It was only until I realized… I’ve been protecting you this entire time.” He squeezes you tighter.

Gravity shifts. Your orbit now becomes tied to this warrior.

Gently, you lean out of his embrace to stare at him. Placing your hand against his helmet, imagining his cheek below your palm, you reverently stroke the sacred beskar.

“My future is with you, whatever it is. I want it to be with you, Din.” You tell him through watery croaks.

A gloved hand now holds your face. Din exhales your name, delicate and reverent. Then he moves forward.

His helmet leans against your forehead, a holy act that makes your eyes close. The cool beskar against your skin feels like a sealed vow, the promise of a kiss and the hope of many to come.

Now, no crown keeps you from him.

—

Sunlight gently wakes you.

Your mind groggily starts thinking over the things you have to do today. An exasperated sigh escapes you.

The bed is cozy. You don’t want to leave, but you need to. So wearily you wiggle to slip out from the covers.

Until a solid sturdy arm drags you back into the blankets, pulling you against a warm broad bare chest.

“You can’t keep me in bed all day.” You mutter half asleep, half amused.

“We’re on our honeymoon. We’re allowed to stay in bed all day.” Din’s voice, unmodulated and thick with sleep, drips with pure delicious decadence.

Soft kisses pepper your bare shoulder. The soft scrape of his facial hair, the tickle of his mustache, feel glorious.

“We did that yesterday. And the day before that.” You remind him amused.

“Then today should be our final time.” Din smirks, nipping at your shoulder while his hands map out your skin.

“There’s still things I need to do for the coronation.” You try sounding determined, but your voice instead is a dreamy sigh, blissed in pure newlywed reverie.

“A queen’s job is never finished.” He teases letting his lips kiss across your jaw lazyly.

“Not a queen anymore.” You cheekily remind him, and your hand reaches back to run into his soft curls.

You’re a wife now, a title you cherish just as much as Queen.

“Always will be a queen to me… m’lady.” He mutters into your skin.

Immediately his words make you twist in his arms. You take a quick glance at your husband - your incredible husband with the most gorgeous rich soil soulful eyes. Then you lean forward to kiss him fierce.

Din meets your frenzy passion with a steadiness that disarms you. He kisses you slowly, unworried, like he plans to savor every moment, and you become a cloud ready to float into his atmosphere.

Then a small crash comes from the living room. An amused little giggle reveals the culprit.

You and Din now sigh for another reason.

“We should have let your handmaids keep him another day.” Din mumbles.

You laugh swatting at his shoulder.

With a final playful kiss, you grab your robe and slip out of bed.

Grogu squeals excitedly seeing you. Scooping him up into your arms, you kiss his sweet adorable cheeks.

“You adorable little trouble maker.” You snicker ticking his tummy.

You don’t even mind that Grogu knocked over the lovely congratulations bouquet the gungan boss sent. Your son’s giggles are worth it.

The morning sun dances beautifully across the grand Naboo lake. Sitting among the lush grass, you now watch Grogu once again chase after the fluttering butterflies.

Heavy boots crunch approaching. Then Din presses against you. You snuggle closer to lean against his paladin covered shoulder. His arm slides to curl you even closer into his side.

“Always hoped we would get to come back here.” Din admits.

You did too. It’s why when the coronation for the next Queen of Naboo arrived, coincidentally taking place just a month after your wedding, you eagerly convinced Din to take a break from Nevarro to return to this special place.

“Thank you for bringing us back.” You tell him grateful, pressing a kiss to his beskar.

“No, thank you for suggesting this.” You knew Din was kind hearted before. But now, as your husband, he shows you a pure adoration that doesn’t feel real at times.

“They will need you at the palace soon.” Your mandalorian reminds you gently.

He’s right of course. So many events, things to plan, all wait for you.

But for a few more moments, you stay within the golden glow of your little family…simply letting the butterflies dance all around.

[maxdibert]

Having a shitty past is no excuse for being a horrible person, and Snape was a horrible person. Snape fans always try to turn him into a tragic hero, but there was nothing heroic about him when he was just an obsessive bigot who followed a group of genocidal maniacs

Well, I think I’ve said this a million times already and explained in exhausting detail why growing up in a particular environment—lacking social, emotional, economic, or essential support—and being subjected to violence during the most crucial years of cognitive development creates the perfect breeding ground for antisocial behavior. It also makes vulnerable or socially excluded youth prime targets for sectarian groups (whether religious, political, or otherwise) that prey on their situation, offering them promises of protection, safe spaces, surrogate parental figures, or social progress. These groups actively seek out kids with emotional voids caused by dysfunctional family dynamics, minimal to no financial resources, and a profound sense that the system has failed them at every turn. They offer these kids an alternative system—one that gives them a roof over their heads, a hot meal, a place to belong, and people who won’t marginalize them like the rest of society has—at the simple price of blindly following the group’s ideology. And they do it. Of course, they do. Because what other choice do they have? This group gave them life, a place in society, and restored their status as human beings.

But since I’ve spoken about this at length before and about how Severus’s life shaped his decisions, I feel like I’m starting to sound like a broken record. So, since I’m also reading a legal ruling I need to memorize by Friday, I’m going to indulge myself and dissertate as freely as I please—because hey, if you’re going to throw hate, I’m going to grant myself the privilege of replying however I want.

Here’s a question: why does it even matter? Seriously, what does it matter if he was a shitty person? Do you know that people go to space today thanks to the work of physicists and engineers who were literal SS members? That after WWII, all the top scientists, physicists, chemists, and engineers were granted amnesty and fast-tracked into citizenships so they could work on government projects? That people working within a stone’s throw of concentration camps are the pioneers behind some of the greatest technological advances of the 20th century? And you don’t care that the products you consume are derived from the work of collaborators with mass genocide, but you’re upset that people find a fictional character interesting? I don’t want to sound cynical, but honestly, it’s ridiculous to get so morally high and mighty about a character who doesn’t exist and who followed an extremist cult for, what? 3 or 4 years tops? and then canonically worked actively to take it down. If we put Severus in a real-world, wartime context, the guy would be a literal war hero with medals to his name. No exaggeration. If he survived, he’d be recruited with a fat paycheck to work in internal affairs for some major world power’s secret projects. That’s just how the world works.

And yeah, he was obsessive. But in an era where everyone suffers at least one anxiety episode a month, where the best-case scenario is that your panic attacks don’t spiral into chronic mental health issues—can we really judge him for that? Like, most of the people I see being ultra “snater” are folks who openly declare themselves neurodivergent, and one of the common denominators of all neurodivergence is obsessiveness. All of them. Whether it’s chronic anxiety, depression, OCD, ADHD, paranoid schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder or autism. Every single one has an obsessive component. So it’s kind of ironic—and even hypocritical—for people who are themselves pretty obsessive (because let’s face it, we’re all compulsively doomscrolling here to soothe our anxious compulsions with little dopamine hits) to judge this character’s obsessiveness as a negative trait. Maybe let’s take a good look in the mirror, too.

And let me just say, no court would convict Severus of collaborating with a terrorist group. Not a single one. Impossible. Especially since he literally collaborated against said group, so any judge would happily clear him—not after the war, but the moment he struck his deal with Dumbledore. Severus is what’s known as an informant. He worked from the inside, exposed himself to greater dangers than regular agents. Legally speaking, there have been cases where people guilty of heinous crimes—including crimes against humanity—were let off because they provided critical information. So imagine someone like Severus, who, as far as we know, didn’t even kill anyone during his time in the group, willingly spilling the beans and agreeing to work as a spy. He’d be celebrated as a hero of war. Hell, they’d probably buy him a mansion in Florida if he wanted one. That’s just how our system works, and honestly, this kind of moralist posturing is pretty cringy because you’re talking about a guy who literally saved half of magical society’s asses and without whom the kid destined to save the world would’ve died in his first year at school.

You can dislike him or think he’s a jerk, but he was damn good at his job. And compared to the people he’s often unfairly measured against (Sirius, James, Remus...), he actually did something. They didn’t. Absolutely nothing. Contribution: negative one.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Could you please go more on Harry and Sirius and their relationship? I love them so much.

Honestly, yes. Like I think I already wrote most of what I think about them, (here, here, here, and here) but I love their dynamic so much and one of my pet peeves in fic is when Sirius is villainized for no reason and treated as a bad influence in Harry's life.

Like, Harry's life is lacking in competent adults he trusts, and I wanna talk about how much Harry trusts Sirius since I haven't covered that yet, I think.

Dumbledore is extremely competent, but Harry doesn't trust him. Snape is also extremely competent, but Harry would rather deal with whatever himself than tell Snape about it (except in life-and-death situations like at the end of OotP).

Then you have characters like Hagrid, who Harry trusts, and is definitely good intentioned, but not very competent. Molly and Arthur kinda fall into this category for the majority of the books.

Remus in book 3 came close. He's competent, and Harry likes him, but that trust and seeking of a relationship is one-sided. It's always Harry seeking Remus out, Remus doesn't want to be involved in Harry's life and keeps running away like Remus does. (There's a reason Harry keeps calling him "Lupin" in his head)

Then you have Barty/Fake Moody who is competent and Harry trusts and grows close to only to later be revealed to be a Death Eater during book 4.

Basically, Harry has a shitty track record with mentor figures in his life. Then comes Sirius, who loves him, wants to have a relationship with him, who is intelligent and competent (Especially during GoF), and who Harry feels he can trust.

Throughout GoF and OotP, whenever Harry has a problem, be it strange dreams from Voldemort, his scar hurting, the Triwizard Tournament, him just having a bad day, Umbridge, anything, the first person he goes to (or wants to go to), even before Ron and Hermione — is Sirius. And that is so important to me.

Like, growing up the way he grew up, Harry isn't the most trusting of kids. He often goes and acts heroic because he doesn't trust adults to do what needs to be done and so he feels like it's his responsibility. Sirius is the only adult in the books that when he tells Harry: "Stay away from it and let me check out what I can find out first", Harry listens. In GoF Sirius tells Harry not to leave school, and to watch out for Karkaroff, and Harry does so. He actually believes Sirius has his best interests and he lets him be a responsible adult in his life.

At least, more than he lets anyone else.

I did mention it in the past, but Harry feels just as responsible for Sirius as Sirius feels for Harry. Harry never got to be a child, so he doesn't exactly act like one.

At the beginning of GoF he tries to lie to Sirius that his scar doesn't actually hurt so Sirius would stay safe and away from Britain. Sirius doesn't buy it and comes anyway because Harry's safety is always Sirius' number 1 priority.

Even when his mental/emotional state deteriorates in OotP, he is mostly talking about endangering himself, not Harry.

And with this behavior, it's easy to see why Harry comes to trust Sirius so fast. Sirius is a connection to Harry's parents (something Harry's always looking for), he says he loves Harry and would do a lot for him (including escaping Azkaban by swimming as a dog across the North Sea), and it's clear he's prioritizing Harry in a way no one else has before.

Is Sirius' fixation on Harry's well-being necessarily healthy? Not exactly, I mean, there is a reason in all the airplane safety instructions they tell you to put on your own oxygen mask before you help someone else, and Sirius would definitely put the mask on Harry first. But given both their circumstances, this is honestly what they both need to feel a semblance of family.

Like, their connection, for both of them, is a kind of lifeline.

Harry needs to be the most important person to someone after he has been treated like nothing for years. And Sirius, I think, needs to care for someone else, to feel he is helping and doing something good. If he's helping Harry, he feels his own life has a purpose.

It's so very visible with Harry just how much of a lifeline Sirius became to him after such a short time. Like, I reread books 5 and 6 recently, and at the end of OotP, after Sirius dies, there is a shift in Harry. He stops caring as much.

What I mean is, there is a reason Harry has his "there's no reason to call me sir, Professor" moment in HBP. After Sirius dies, Harry loses his last bits of self-preservation. At the end of OotP he starts sassing Snape:

Malfoy’s hand flew toward his wand, but Harry was too quick for him. He had drawn his own wand before Malfoy’s fingers had even entered the pocket of his robes. “Potter!” The voice rang across the entrance hall; Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office, and at the sight of him Harry felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything he felt toward Malfoy. . . . Whatever Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape . . . never . . . “What are you doing, Potter?” said Snape coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them. “I’m trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir,” said Harry fiercely. Snape stared at him.

(OotP, 851)

Snape is shocked, he doesn't even know what to say to that because Harry doesn't speak to him like that before. Before, even during the Occlumancy lessons, Harry is mostly polite because he feels he has to be. After Sirius dies, there's none of that. He's sassier, snappier, and angrier, and he carries that with him through HBP and DH. Said anger isn't just towards Snape. He snaps at Ron and Hermione throughout DH even without the Horcrux, and he lifts up Mundungus by the throat in HBP. I think a lot of his focus on Malfoy is because of how lost he feels throughout HBP. He goes out at Remus with his worst in DH when he wants to join them in the Horcrux hunt. I mean, Remus needed someone to talk sense into him, but Harry didn't need to be that mean.

What I'm saying is that when Sirius died, one of Harry's major lifelines was cut and he's in a weird sort of lashing out throughout HBP and DH. Yes, he knew Sirius for a very short time, but he was the person Harry trusted most in his life — and then he was gone.

It's not to say he never got angry at Sirius, Harry did, and that's natural and healthy, honestly. But it doesn't change the fact that in GoF and OotP when Harry needs to rant, needs someone to talk to, wants advice, he first goes to Sirius, then to everyone else.

I just feel so much about these two.

[elodieunderglass]

I've become obsessed with your jockeyposting and Killie (beloved wet cat), and i wanted to ask a question about racehorses. you've mentioned that Killie competes both flat and jumps, and this is unusual but not unheard of for jockeys. is it similar for the horses themselves or do they always keep to one discipline? if so, which one does Thunder compete in??

(thank you so much for sharing these guys, they're so fun to ponder!! <3)

Thank you so much, it’s lovely to hear that and I love to ponder them too! Thank you for pondering with me!

Racehorses tend to keep to a discipline! There is SOME crossover (Tiger Roll is a horse who moved from flat racing to jump and did well) but they tend to be bred for one discipline or the other. They're all Thoroughbreds, so keeping VERY tightly within the same exact breed of horse, but they're on different career tracks and prioritise different things.

O Holy Thunder is a great big jump racer. He's a reasonable age, around 9 years old, I think, and has known and hated Killie for a long time. <3 their relationship is so beautiful

I really liked this throwaway quote from coverage of the Golden Button, which puts the difference in horse builds in terms of cars: “Flat racing horses are the Formula 1 speed machines, National Hunt [jump] horses are more like World Rally Championship, and the horse you need for the Golden Button [rough cross-country race open to mixed-breed horses and amateur riders] is something out of Mad Max.”

I go off on some explanations/tangents below:

Flat racing is what most of the world does. High purses, dirt tracks, super fast-paced, SUPER young horses, super lightweight jockeys, all over in 2 minutes. Horses start their training as toddlers and are thought of as investments - expensive pieces of property that might win large purses of cash and retire to breeding where they could command high stud fees. It’s also an international sport, with major players including Japan, the UAE and Hong Kong. In general, with flat racing, the animals are the jewels of capitalism, and breeding pressures reflect that - increasingly favouring animals that can be the fastest sprinter in two minutes at the age of two. Breeding for the international market increasingly means breeding fast little burnouts with expensive gametes for this purpose.

Jump racing, called steeplechasing in the States, is also called National Hunt in Europe. It is mostly really popular in the UK, Ireland and France. It’s slower, more dangerous and takes longer; the horses are bigger, older, stronger, better trained, and have more temperament and focus. Interestingly, for a long time, there hasn’t been the same emphasis on stud fees - and many male National Hunt horses are gelded! Their owners pass up the chance to make breeding bucks in favour of bringing out the horse’s focus and behaviour. (Thunder really ought to be gelded, but his owner doesn’t want him to be.) this is a distinct contrast to flat racing, where horses are raced young and hard, to build up their value, and then bred a lot and then minced. Steeplechasers are objectively less valuable as bloodstock and cost more to feed and train - they seem to start around age 5 and are shiniest around age 9 - but are more Serious Athletes With Careers.

National Hunt horses need to be moderately intelligent, expensively trained, have good judgment and stamina, and be very good at jumping. Their races are longer - the Grand National’s like 10 minutes long and over four miles with seven MILLION thirty jumps, most of which are like 5 feet high and some of which are also insane.

Brown thoroughbred horsies always look exactly the same, but steeplechase horsies are a bit heavier, favouring stamina and strength.

Forever Young, 4 yo Japanese flat racer / I Am Maximus, 9 yo French-bred British jumpy boy. Almost identical horses in an almost identical pose, same breed/colour/etc, but the flat racer looks like A Baby to me, you know?

Steeplechases are also the ones that get protested more by animal rights activists, because you might see a horsie die falling at a jump. Jockey deaths, and the fact that flat racers are generated and privately culled in far larger volumes, as a sort of convoluted way for rich people to support the dogmeat industry, are far less aesthetic, and therefore unimportant. And the fact that the rich owners are mincing the PLANET for their day jobs is not important or worthy of protest at all 😌

In a separate post at some point, I'd like to go off on a rant about the racing industry and how it's separating the flat racers into a strain of freakout-out little puppymill creatures, because Right Wing, but it accidentally turned into a land justice/political/animal rights post, and I am trying ✋not to get into it

Gosh, thank you so much though, I really love meeting and chatting with people about BONKERS SPORT WITH SOOOO MUCH INFORMATION and my rancid OCs 💖

[robertreich]

Biden vs. Trump: Whose Economic Plan Is Better for You? 

Trump failed to deliver on his number one campaign promise:

President Trump presided over a historic net loss of nearly 3 million American jobs, the worst jobs numbers ever recorded under an American president.

This is no fluke. America’s economy has almost always done worse under Republican presidents. A New York Times analysis found that since 1933, the U.S. economy has grown nearly twice as fast on average under Democrats.

Now Trump’s defenders claim it’s not his fault that the economy collapsed under his watch. It was the pandemic. But there are two big things wrong with this.

First, the pandemic recession was as bad as it was because of Trump. His failure to lead with any national strategy left America in chaos throughout 2020, long after other nations had developed coordinated testing, tracing, and social distancing plans that allowed them to reopen their economies.

But secondly, even before the pandemic, Trump failed to deliver on his economic promises. Job growth slowed under Trump.

America added more jobs in President Obama’s last three years than in Trump’s first three.

Even before the pandemic most middle-class American households saw their incomes go down under Trump.

Trump’s major economic policy was cutting taxes on the rich and big corporations. He promised it would result in $4,000 annual raises for workers. How did that work out? Did you get a $4,000 raise?

Republicans keep claiming that if we just cut enough taxes on the rich, the wealth will “trickle down.” But it never works. Wage growth slowed after Reagan’s tax cuts for the rich and big corporations. And the Bush and Trump tax cuts didn’t trickle down either.

These giveaways to the wealthy came at the expense of investments in infrastructure, education, and health care, making life more expensive and difficult for everyone who isn’t rich.

They also exploded the debt and deficit. Reagan oversaw a 186% increase in the national debt — the biggest percentage increase in over 70 years. The Bush and Trump tax cuts, that mostly benefited corporations and the rich, are the main reasons why America’s debt is growing faster than the economy.

Republican presidents have led us into the three worst economic crises of the last century, and Democrats led us out of them.

Republicans talk about running the country like a business, but they want to run it the way Trump ran his businesses: with massive debts, a string of failures, and payouts for the folks at the top, while workers get shafted again and again. Given Republicans’ track record, why would any hard-working American put their financial security in the hands of a Republican president ever again?

[csuitebitches]

2024 Planning

I started planning for 2024 today. I’ve learned a lot this year, made mistakes, had some successes and now it’s time to take all my learnings, good or bad, and go to the next level.

I prefer starting next year’s routine from 2023’s November and December so that by the time January rolls around, I’m settled into the routine. If there’s any revisions necessary, I can do them without starting my new year on the wrong foot.

I maintain my goals on mostly short and medium term basis. This includes daily, weekly and quarterly planning (I don’t do monthly because it doesn’t work for me).

This may seem complicated (actually, it looks more complicated than it is but it’s just what helps me) but let me show you how exactly I do things.

I keep two diaries. One for daily and weekly and one for quarterly. I have a habit tracker on my phone for my daily non-Negotiables (exercise, meditation, reading and language).

The quarterly diary is my big big diary. Every quarter, it lists out all the big plans, what i want to do and who i want to be. It’s all the messy thoughts I have, all my dreams, my weaknesses, my strengths, etc etc. The only “practical” part of the diary is that there is one general plan made at the end of my mad scribbling. It has the general idea, feedback I’ve received from other people and compilation of all the advice I’ve gotten from my mentors.

2. The daily - weekly diary breaks the plan into manageable bits. I write out the week’s plan (who do i need to meet, who do i need to follow up with, any major presentation coming up, any assignment, what am i reading this week) and write a one sentence daily update on it.

I can’t use a habit tracker for this because i’m not tracking meditation or exercise on here. I’m tracking my career goals, my ambitious goals, into smaller goals. A habit tracker wouldnt cut it because I would have to elaborate more on certain things.

For example:

“20-27th Nov: Weekly list

budget presentation on Monday

1 event to attend on Tuesday. Topic: XYZ

Reading: the inheritors

reach out to mentor, schedule a meeting

7 language essays and 7 videos

Monday, 20th Nov.

work presentation: complete.

Feedback received: i need to work on XYZ.

points they raised that didnt cross my mind: XYZ

follow ups required and if yes, with who: XYZ

reading: complete. Interesting point they brought up: XYZ

essay for the day: complete.

Video complete:

Tuesday, 21st Nov

mentor meeting scheduled

event went well. Met: A, B, C who work in XYZ companies. Follow up with them next week for coffee/ drinks.

essay: complete

video: complete”

Having two diaries helps me because i can find my bigger goals without having to go through the daily entry mess. I like having the two separate.

Nov ‘23 + Dec ‘23 + Q1 2024’s goals include:

Social (meeting new people, maintaining networks)

Intellectual (biographies, documentaries, industry reports)

Personal (soft skills, language studies)

Work (presentations, courses, conferences)

A major change I’ve making this year is actively working on every single weakness I have that I know is a potential strength. I’m ignoring weaknesses that I know are 100% weaknesses like coding because there’s just no way I can sit in front of a computer and learn all that, it’s absolutely not my cup of tea and does not make me happy.

I made a list of every single weakness i have and I’m embarrassed about and ashamed of. 2024 is the year of NO shame. I’m not letting my intrusive thoughts win.

Next to each weakness I wrote out a potential solution.

Ex: not picking up the language i’m studying as fast as i want to -> write 1 short essay and a 1-2 minute video of me talking about anything in that language every single day

I’m not allowing any unnecessary negative self doubt or self talk happen. Constructive criticism is one thing, being a bitch to yourself is another. I plan to learn a lot next year.

I’ve created a manageable exposure therapy plan for myself - I aim to meet 3 new people every month and follow up with 5 new connections every month, whether it’s over chat or irl.

I’ve made a list of business biographies I’m going to read. This year I reached my reading target earlier than anticipated which I’m very happy about. Next year I’m focusing on books that are solely about business, technology and psychology.

[bonefall]

Bones Bones Bonesss wc Star full book spoilers already out in the wild (forums)......... Looking forward to your thoughts when it officially comes out (or whenever!) cause. I will not say. But ohhhhhh it sure was a book............ :33

You know I'll also be doing a full read when I get my grubby paws on a copy, but I do have some strong feelings assuming that the leaks are totally accurate!

The no-spoiler version of my opinion; BOY this ending is a stinker. This arc truly was a blundering mess of lost potential and wasted time. As someone who still feels the first few books were STRONG setups, from 3 onwards I feel like I've been watching a train run out of track and derail in a slow, pitiful fashion.

It's not even a FAST trainwreck. The ending was predictable insofar as they clearly had no good climax or message in mind. Infact it's kind of a marvel how utterly bloodless this arc was, and how any violence they DID show came out of left field because they failed to build up to it.

HOWEVER. I am not just a reader, I'm a scavenger. This stuff is GREAT for BB. The ending gave me the most important pieces I need, and now I know how BB!ASC is going to rework it.

But I'll not get ahead of myself; quickly, I'll just talk raw first impressions of the spoilers.

(As always, take this with a grain of salt and the knowledge that the spoilers may be incorrect. Opinions may change once I read the book myself.)

Splashstar is a garbage villain. He is absolutely bottom-tier for me.

His "amorality" comes out of nowhere and quite frankly he reads like a Chick Tract Evil Atheist.

I don't get how people can accept the way the characters call him "manipulative" when his plots are utterly brainless.

He is the type of naunceless evil that makes me want to hurl. Splash reads like a writer trying to "repeat" the evil of Tigerstar without any of the intelligence of early TPB.

Tigerstar was a RESPECTED warrior. He leveraged his standing in the Clan to secretly carry out his assassinations and forge alliances. He was established strong to begin with.

Splash is like cat-18 and able to kill-no-miss strong warriors with his Evil Jump, and then keeps the Clan in line by holding his siblings hostage.

It makes me not understand how he has ANY followers, because he has no consistent ideology or rhetoric.

Anything they did use (like claiming he'd make the Clans strong and saying tigerheartstar wanted to take over the whole forest or whatever) isn't consistent because they failed to establish these over the SIX BOOKS THEY HAD.

It feels like he was only a legitimate threat for like 2 out of 6 books

And then he's dead in chapter 13. Halfway through the story. Incredibly lame.

I want to reserve my judgement on the Frostpaw vs Splashstar battle, but it's absurd on its face. Harelight went down in 1 hit but Frostpaw musters all her strength to use his move and overcome him?

I have to see it first before I conclude if it's something I want to salvage though. Sometimes fights just come across better when you're reading them.

But on the note of battles, it's frustrating how bloodless this arc was. We started off with tigerHeartstar invading and occupying RiverClan-- yet we're looking at a total body count of 5, with one heart attack and one illness.

And speaking of deaths.

Whoever decided to give Berryheart a redemption death should get offscreen greencough.

UTTER shite. You have this whole arc with radicalization as a major theme, show Berryheart trying to brutally murder her in-law with a snake, grabbing at power desperately to the point where she CHANGED CLANS to be Splash's deputy, and decide that her ideal ending is "she would die for her baby :(((("???

Ffffuuuuuck yoouuuuuuuuuuuu

This is why we can't have good, nuanced villains, these writers trip over themselves the MINUTE they have a sad parent. It could never actually STAY about power or politics, they cant allow a parent to truly be willing to sacrifice their child for their own ends.

No matter how badly or violently they treated you, They're Still Your Parent. Hogwash. I'm sick to death of this thought-terminating cliche.

Being a parent does NOT automatically mean they'd die for you. They already did this earlier with Curlfeather, and the absolute insult it is to the theme of radicalization aside, having Berryheart repeat that sacrifical death cheapens hers.

Now it's not that CURLFEATHER is the one who would never go so far as to allow her daughter to die for her own ends, contrasting Berryheart. It's Just What Moms Do.

And furthermore if they were going to do a "redemption death," it REALLY sucks that they decided to have Berryheart refuse to kill Yarrowleaf and not FRINGEWHISKER.

It's not even indicative of GROWTH or RECONSIDERING HER BELIEFS or anything. She won't kill her SISTER.

It might have meant something to have a chance for revenge and refuse it, but nooooo. Yarrowleaf. My god. Yarrowleaf.

and don't @ me about Yarrow being ex-kin, they both joined and rejected it at different times.

All that said...

There are some things I like here!

Frostdawn and Whistlebreeze getting their names at the same time was really sweet. I like them a lot.

Sometimes a predictable choice is the right one. Icewing becoming leader is a good move. Icestar my beloved.

I'm personally excited to get to Icey's leadership ceremony in my own rewrite, the canon one was as fanservice-wanky as you'd expect of modern arcs but I LOVE rewriting those.

Though I would have preferred Froststar, I'm ok with this.

The fracturing of RiverClan is a great move. I love the idea of there being a mass exodus following these events. It's wild we haven't gotten that before.

While I bemoan the awful politics and lack of setup, I do LIKE the idea on paper of there being "ex-Splash Supporters" to cause problems in future arcs. Not that these writers know what setup and payoff is, but hey, more for me.

I liked the sort of desperate feel of Frostpaw being exhausted in StarClan and deciding if she wants to go back or not. Im a little iffy on how much other cats PRESSURE her, though.

I need to read the chapters myself but I fear that it might not read like her own choice, but another thing that she's being forced into.

Shut UP Tree why are you HEREEE

The part where they all point out that without her, RiverClan wont have a holy messenger and that's bad, fits the consistent way the writers try to portray StarClan as a good thing when they're really not... but.

I think it would have made a fascinating moment for Frosty to realize that SHE is the one who really holds the power in this situation. What spirituality is going to look like in the future of her Clan is in HER paws now.

They are absolutely going to toss this potential away, but I guess the things I like most about the ending are the ways it kinda softly threatens the status quo.

The fracture of RC and the exodus of cats, Frostpaw deciding she will return and fix RiverClan, Icestar accepting help from the other Clans to fix the camp...

It's not ALL bad, it's just that the negatives outweigh the positives and this is exactly the kind of ending I feared. I hope that this isn't just a tease of a change to the status quo, but I've learned to not get my hopes up.

And, lastly, Owlnose deputy and Nightheart's ending chapter are just straight up beyond parody. I can't even be mad, they're such bad moves they're funny to me at this point.

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 3 - french girl | art major ellie x dance major reader

last chapter | next chapter

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 3.8k words | slow burn(?), mutual pining, loser ellie, recreational drug use (weed)

a/n: this took so long because im an intp AND a taurus *makes excuses for myself* also tysm to everyone who commented on the last chapter ur amazing and ily ♥

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Ellie’s in nothing but her underwear, legs criss-crossed on her navy comforter; holding a joint between her lips as she tunes the strings of her maple wood guitar. It’s a lazy Saturday, the one day out of seven where Ellie isn’t constantly tormented by homework and art projects.

These days are practically therapeutic for her. Being able to strum her fingers against the nylon strings and relish in the relaxing, skunky smell of cannabis can fix all of her problems. Minus one, of course: getting to know you better. 

For now, she’s at peace with doing nothing, that is until a loud ding goes off and the brightness of her phone flashbangs her otherwise dim-lit room. She scowls, exhaling a puff from her lungs as she reaches over for the device. Ellie has friends, but she’s no social butterfly. Her phone is usually dry, especially on weekends. Jesse is definitely with Dina, so unless it's serious; there’s no reason for her to be getting a text. 

Naturally, her scowl deepens when she reads that the number is unknown. 

???: hii

ellie: wrong number

She opts to toss her phone away, but the next message throws her off track. 

you: it’s — !

Ellie’s eyes widen at her screen like your name is a hypnotic spiral. She can feel her heart swelling well within her chest, and she’s left wondering if the weed she’s smoking is laced or if she somehow manifested you. Ellie quickly transfers her blunt in one hand and her phone in the other, straining her thumb trying to type as fast as she can to you. 

ellie: oh hdy! 

ellie: hey*

you: dina gave me ur number, i hope that’s okay 

ellie: yeah ofc it is :-)

ellie: i was planning on giving it to you

Ellie typed that half-lie slowly, weighing how true it really was as she pressed send. It was on her plan of things she’d like to do before dying, but even then she doesn’t think she would ever gain the courage. 

you: oh thank god

you: i thought i might be intruding 🙁

ellie: never, what’s up?

you: can i ask you something?

ellie: yes of course aks me anythign

ellie: ask* anything* shut sorry

ellie: SHIT

you: lmao are you okay??

ellie: yeah… forget about that, ask away

you: well i was wondering if you could help me study? im failing my anatomy class..

you: if u can’t it’s okay though!

A sheepish grin spreads across Ellie’s face, as she thinks about all the scenarios that could lead to. To think she’d finally have an excuse to see you after weeks of hoping, of praying for the opportunity. You asked her for help instead of taking other options, especially considering how much easier it would’ve been for you to. 

ellie: its no problem, id be glad to help :-)

you: really?? ur a lifesaver els, tysmm

you: when are you free?

ellie: Right now.

ellie: or whenever .

you: let’s meet at the library in 20?

Almost instantly, Ellie’s excitement warps into anxiety. She wasn’t particularly ready to see you and twenty minutes doesn’t seem like nearly enough time to get her shit together. She thought you’d ignore her impulsive desperation of “right now” and set plans for a later date, but, alas, you didn’t.

Ellie rubs her forehead with her blunt holding hand, trying to scratch the itch of her worries away with just her pinky and thumb. Despite her increasing knowledge of you over the past few weeks, she was still incredibly nervous to be around you. 

Ellie takes one final hit of her joint before snuffing it out in a doob tube on her nightstand. She sets her guitar against her bed and nearly falls off trying to get up in a rush, even though she has more than enough time to get ready. 

She stumbles around the room to put something on, settling with a gray hoodie and a pair of jeans. She attempts to keep her balance as she hastily shoves each leg through her pants; simultaneously eyeing around her room in an attempt to remember where exactly she put her anatomy textbooks. 

Ellie hears a familiar ding from her bed and she snaps towards it to pick up her phone, peering at the screen.

you: ellie?

Ellie curses under her breath, scolding herself for forgetting to text you back. She taps on the keyboard, quickly making sure she doesn’t manage another typo before hitting send.

ellie: sorry! yeah i’ll see you in twenty!

you: awesome :) 

—

You weren’t ready to see Ellie either, you figured, since it took you hours to actually text her. You made up far-fetched scenarios with the worst outcomes; the one where she immediately deletes your number tormented you for quite a while. Now you’re trudging across campus to meet her, internally at war with your mixed emotions. On one hand you get to hang out with a cute girl and on the other you’re hanging out with a really cute girl. Alone. Zero friends around. 

There’s a chance you two might not have anything to talk about. You guys are only mutual friends after all. Even if you guys somehow manage to start a conversation, what if she comes to not like you by the end of it, or vice versa? Not to mention the window incident you’re both hoping the other forgot. 

You hesitate in your steps as you reach the library doors. It’d only take a few seconds to spin around and walk back, but how could you leave her there? You thoughtlessly chew on your lip, eyes worriedly shifting around. 

You can’t recall any moment you’ve been so anxious about meeting up with a girl before. Not once, not even in a distant memory. You’ve always been the bolder one in your endeavors. The fact that Ellie is the only girl to make you feel this way has to mean something. You slowly pace in front of the doors in an attempt to dissipate your worries, nodding to your inner thoughts and ignoring the probable concerned stares in the distance. You’re the one who invited her, so you’re gonna stick it the fuck through. You couldn’t bail before testing the waters, you’d never forgive yourself.

So you barge into the building, letting the cool air hit your face from the swinging doors; granting you a waft of leather and drying ink. The building was decorated with freakishly tall dark wood bookshelves; so high, there were beige ladders in place to reach the top shelves. As expected, it was quiet, empty and definitely overfunded. Studying has never been your forte and you’ve never stepped in this building; save for a few dance history books. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for everyone else. Thankfully, one pro definitely outweighs those cons. Ellie was going to help you study. Ellie is the reason you’re here at all.

You tidy up your outfit that you diligently put together and roam farther into the library, trying to hold down a smile that’s impossible to hold down. In fact, it completely takes over your face. You need to simmer down your giddiness before you start skipping around. You purse your lips and briefly steady your eyes on the dark, olive carpeted floor ahead of you. 

You head towards the front desk that’s just a sunken step away with the intention of asking for directions to the study hall. An older lady is sitting there, glowering with obvious annoyance definitely because of your loud entry. It’s been ages since you’ve been in the library— your failing grade proves that— and clearly you’ve forgotten all the rules with it.

A flash of guilt passes through you and you force an apologetic smile. She returns it with a grunt and you immediately redirect yourself further into the library; aimlessly in search for the study hall. 

-

You’ve been walking around for a solid five minutes and you swear you’ve passed the same fantasy section a million times now. It’d be smart to text Ellie and tell her you’ll be late, but your ego won’t let you. 

The looming large, ornate bookshelves certainly don’t make it any easier for you to navigate around.

The question of why the school spent so much money on all this occupies your mind as you venture further. You make a turn around a corner you’ve definitely made before, and you sigh at the familiarity of the area in front of you. 

You keep pressing forward anyway, hoping you can manage a new route this time around.

Before you can make another turn, you’re interrupted by drowned footsteps behind you blending into your own, followed by a tap on your shoulder. You flinch at the sudden touch, sharply turning around only to see Ellie looking at you with a downward smile. 

“Lost?” She sarcastically presumes, her viridescent eyes taking in your shocked yet relieved expression. 

You fiddle with the straps of your backpack between your fingers, shyly glancing around you. “No, I was just… looking for more textbooks.” You nod sagely at your own words, as if you’re trying to convince yourself too.

“Oh? Next to—“ The auburn-haired girl squints at the shelf behind you before adorning a wide grin, “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?” 

Your brows raise and you follow her eyes onto the obviously fiction-filled bookcase. “Uh, yeah? I’ve got Professor Snape at four.” 

Ellie narrows her eyes at you in amused disbelief, trying not to laugh at your adorably dorky excuse.

Dramatically sighing in defeat, “Fuck, okay, you got me.” You say lowly, a bashful smile developing on your lips.  

“You passed the study hall five times. I counted.” Ellie goads.

You partially suppress your laugh, mindlessly giving her arm a light smack. “Oh, my god. Don’t tell me that!” 

She dotes on your laughter and your touch; whether it was intentional or not. Either way, she’s feeling good about herself now and her previous worries about this encounter floated away, and you could safely say the same. 

“It’s a good book though, we can go back and get it. No need to be shy about it.” Ellie quips.

“Shush!” 

—

With Ellie as your guide, the trip to the study hall was much easier than you made it out to be. You recognized the big glass windows you passed by often and when you stepped into it, you flushed with embarrassment. It was a direct contrast to the old-fashioned, mahogany colored library you’d been meandering around. 

Ellie really could’ve counted the times you walked by, and she really did. The first time, she thought you must’ve seen a friend and left to catch up with them. However, the second time around she realized you might be lost. 

She was going to text you and tell you to turn around, but she thought it was cute seeing you walk in circles, ignoring literally every sign in your way. By the fourth time, she could tell you thought you were in a time loop and she found it fucking hilarious. Someone like you, seemingly exceptional in everything but directions. The fifth time came and, of course, she decided she was being cruel and had to come help you herself. 

Ellie leads you to the desk where she’s set camp at, and the amount of books and paperwork makes you dizzy. “Jesus, Els. Are you teaching me the entire course?” 

She takes a seat before giving you an answer, “Well.. That depends on how bad you’re failing.” 

You take a seat across from her, setting your backpack on the floor before resting your forearms on the oak table. “My teacher said I was dumb as fuck and essentially called me a homophobic slur.” You’re exaggerating, obviously, but that was exactly what it felt like.

Ellie scoffs out a sound, unsure of whether to laugh or be offended for you. “Damn... It’s Bill, isn’t it? God, that guy is a fuckin’ prick.” She questions, clearly unsurprised by his actions.

You sit upright in your chair, relief shining through your words, “Yes! Is that his thing?” 

Ellie casually leans back, thinking back to when she was a student of his. “Oh, yeah. He’s a blunt guy, shitty filter,” She continues, and somehow you’re both meeting each other’s looks, “But he’s fair with his grades, n’ I know it doesn’t make it any better, but he has a husband. He’s just… old.. and grumpy.”

You try to consider that he is letting you retake a major grade. You guess you could appreciate that somewhat. “True... still, the comment was unprovoked. You must know him well though?” 

“Yeah, I took his class last year. We were at each other's throats about coursework n’ shit. Really hard to reason with that guy.” Ellie purposely leaves out the part where she was being unreasonable too, but only for the sake of storytelling, of course. “Then that summer, I saw him at a family gathering.” She finishes off with a dramatic shiver in disgust and you laugh at how endearing it was. 

“Anyways, his gaydar is somethin’ else. I can never tell.” She admits, carelessly waving a hand in the air. Ellie’s radar in particular is broken. Shattered, even. She can’t keep track of the amount of times she has stood in the shower, realizing a girl was flirting with her only days later. 

“Even with me?” 

“Even with you...” She speaks with artificial sadness and a slight sulk.

“Ouch… I’m wounded.” You fake a frown, slightly dropping your shoulders.

Ellie’s eyes fall to your nails; some suspiciously shorter than the others, and all painted in your favorite color. “But… that I know for sure, I can definitely tell.” Ellie comments.

 A swarm of butterflies suddenly parade your belly, and you shine a coy smile her way. “They’re not short because of that…” Your half-hearted attempt to defend yourself drips in the lightness of your voice.

Ellie briefly raises her eyebrows with a sly smile plastered on her face, folding her arms over her chest; which, unbeknownst to you, was to shield how hard her heart was thumping. She’s shocked she hasn’t turned into a pile of mush yet, probably thanks to her smoke session earlier.

“I’m serious! I keep my hands to myself.” You continue on, putting in a little effort in your voice for your defense this time. For the most part it is true, lately your mind has been on Ellie, and Ellie only. The thought of random flings didn't excite you, but she did. However, it wasn’t not true that you’ve had a fair share of hookups. You’re in an art school, how could you not? 

“C’mon, just yourself? I’m sure you've cared to share.” Ellie playfully pokes around you with her words; nonchalant and prone for a reaction. 

Your jaw slightly drops, making your head tilt to the side incredulously. “Wow. What makes you think that?”

Ellie unfolds her tattooed arm to rub her palm against the back of her neck, responding unexpectedly timid, “Hey, ‘m not blind. I know you’re popular.” 

You snicker at her explanation and shake your head. “They’re friends. You can be friends with girls even if you’re gay, Ellie.”

“Friends don’t touch you like that.” She notes with an uncharacteristically stern expression.

It surprises you for a second, but all it makes you wanna do is poke fun, tease her, and see where it’d go. “Like what?”

Ellie sighs, reluctantly explaining further, “Like they’ve touched you before.”

“Straight girls are touchy.” You shrug, purposefully ignoring what she tried to imply. 

The way you said it so matter-of-factly makes Ellie’s eyes roll. “You know I don’t mean it like– ugh, my judgment is usually fucked up, but that? That I can tell the difference with.” Ellie states with surety.

You narrow your gaze at her, a teasing grin forming on your lips. “What are you jealous or something?” 

“Of you or the girls?” 

“Oh, the girls were an option?” You playfully remark, but also with honest curiosity in how she’d answer. 

Ellie clears her throat and leans forward to place her textbooks into view, trying to hide the blush spreading across her features. She’s not doing a great job at it and you’d love to tease her some more, but you can settle with taking the win for now. 

—

Night crept up faster than you both anticipated, the ambient sounds of paper printing and carts rolling by were no longer prevalent. The only thing filling the room is the buzz of the light fixture above and the words you two exchange. The table is cluttered with Ellie’s open notes and some textbooks with neon page markers poking out the sides. It wasn’t organized by any means, but it was a mess you both found easy to work around. 

Surprisingly, Ellie is a great tutor. When she saw your paper, she didn’t make fun of you like you thought she would. Instead, she expressed how grating it is to remember all that crap and you shouldn’t give yourself a hard time over it. 

To help you memorize the muscles of the body, you guys settled on one area and made up silly rhymes for it. She tried to argue that brachiosaurus was perfect for brachialis even though it didn’t even rhyme. You even gave her the chance to pick a different one, but then she said brachyceratops with a mockingly straight face and you knew she couldn’t be trusted for the task anymore.

The air between you two wasn’t stuffy or silent like you feared it’d be. Ellie made you laugh, not in the breathy forced way you’ve unknowingly gotten used to making. 

She made sure you listened to her tips & tricks, made you review your mistakes so you wouldn’t repeat them again.

You hadn’t picked up your phone for anything other than to google things on the subject, and your ringer? Off. Your attention never strayed far from her. That made her undeniably nervous– sweaty, and hard for her to breathe normally, but she could  acknowledge how well she was doing.

Ellie’s head is dipped down to a paper you two were working on and you’re openly ogling, wondering how she’d look in a pair of glasses. Flipping through papers, tapping the back of a pen on her inviting lips. You tell yourself you snap back to reality before your mind strays any further. 

“If we keep this up, you’ll remember it all in no time” She encourages, eyes still glued on the paper. Secretly, she hopes it takes a little longer. Just a little.

“Thanks for helping me out, Els.” You say, face tilted into the palm of your hand. 

Ellie looks up from the paper to give you a smile, but she doesn’t hold her gaze for long. A millisecond later and her blush would have you thinking she had a sudden, terrible fever. 

“It’s no problem. It helps me out too.” Ellie points to the examples she sketched out for you with her pencil. She pauses before speaking again, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in her mouth, “Can I ask you something?” 

Studying her expectantly, you lift your head off your hand. “Yeah?” 

Ellie fidgets with her pencil, trying to muster up courage. Her mouth feels dry trying to push out the words. “I’m also struggling with a class and uh,” she twirls her pencil in one hand, tucking a sliver of her hair behind her ear with the other, “I was wondering if you could be the model for my art final?” Her question came out whinier than she’d like it to, making her freckled-face wince. 

You can sense how nervous she is about asking, but you can’t place your finger on why she ever would be. This is the first time anyone has ever asked you something like this, so in your mind it’s nothing but exciting, especially coming from her. You can already imagine yourself sitting prettily still while Ellie studies you and paints long, fancy strokes on a yellow canvas. “Ellie, are you kidding? I’d love to.” 

Her lashes flutter in disbelief, “Really?”

“You’re helping me, so why not? It’s fair.”

“It’s kind of a weird thing to ask. I mean, we barely know each other.” Ellie murmurs, unaware that you have absolutely no idea what she’s on about. 

You lift a brow at her. “We will eventually, right? What’s weird about a portrait anyways?” 

“It’s not a portrait… Well, I guess it is–“ Ellie sighs into her palm, “I’m drawing you, but…” She cringes before she can finish her sentence. 

“A portrait in pencil? What am l missing?” You slowly question. 

“Think Titanic.” She grimaces as she waits for your reaction, trying not to bang her head on the table for picking Titanic of all movies. 

“Titanic? What does that have to do with…” Your voice trails off, quieting down so you can process what Ellie said. Think Titanic. It's hard for you to connect what the 1997 romance movie had to with this, but when it connected, it connected. The infamous drawing scene was memorable. You’re in awe, not quite sure how to react. 

“You don’t have to be fully… y’know..” Ellie insists. 

Your face is still unreadable, as if you're lost in thought, and it’s freaking her out. Too many what-ifs are going through her head, all of them gradually getting worse the longer you stay silent. She thinks she got too close to the sun when she had more than enough warmth. She's already preparing herself for rejection, worryingly scouting your face for a hint of revulsion; however, it never comes.

“Oh. Okay.” You calmly respond with a shrug, your face still unreadable; the only difference being a light smile. You could’ve thought about it longer, but you’re so flattered Ellie wants you to pose for her that you rather worry about it later. She wants to sketch your body onto paper. Yours. It sounds vulnerable and a little nerve wracking, but she’s your friend. A friend you have a crush on, sure, but you wouldn’t want to inconvenience her over it. Plus, you owe her now. Really, you’re purely being selfless. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“Okay?” Ellie repeats to make sure she was hearing things right.

“Like I said, you’re doing this for me, so I’ll do it for you.” You reassure, gesturing around to the study session laid across the table. 

“Are you sure? You know I’ll still tutor you, even if you say no–”

“— Do you not want me to?” You pout your lips, hoping she hasn't changed her mind already.

“Are you shitting me? Of course I do. I just… didn’t expect you to say yes.” Ellie finally says, absolutely dumbfounded given her hand movements. 

You laugh melodically, “Didn’t think that far, huh?” 

“Nope.” She answers with a cute embarrassed smile, her blood rushing to her face. 

Your phone buzzes, probably a text or notification. You reach out and shove a few papers to the side to get to it before taking a look, only for your eyes to be drawn to the time. “Shit. It’s late. I think the library closes soon…” You murmur regretfully, feeling all too comfortable where you were.

Ellie presses her tongue against her cheek in annoyance, upset that time dared to pass by as fast as it did. “We should get going then, I guess.” She says dejectedly, not wanting to leave you just yet. 

You peep her suddenly gray aura and smile warmly towards her. “Can you walk me back to my dorms?”

She nods with subtle enthusiasm and pushes out of her seat, immediately packing all her belongings to join your side. “Yes! — I mean, sure. Yeah.”

—-

The lamp post lights are warm and waning, complimenting the shadows on both your faces. You two walk down the dark flagstone path towards the housing area, chatting about nothing. It’s nice to be able to spend a little more time with her before the night is over. Unfortunately, you guys were drawing closer and closer to your dorm and the feeling of loss came as quick as it left. 

“Hey, Els?” 

She glanced at you and hummed in response, giving you the signal to continue. “I was wondering if you were gonna be at some party tomorrow? Apparently Dina’s co-hosting it.”

Ellie looks at you quizzically before looking off elsewhere to think. “Why the fuck would they party on a Sunday?”

You snort out a laugh before lifting and dropping your shoulders, “I don’t know, senioritis or something. Will you come though?”

“Mhm, I’ll be there.” She smiles as she speaks, loving how your face lit up by the end of it. Ellie isn’t too fond of parties, but for you? She can make an exception.

You cheer in a whisper tone and it makes Ellie smile harder, her features creasing in adoration. You two finally approach your dorm building. You walk up a step before turning to wave goodbye. She raises a palm in return and you flash her a smile that makes her heart leap before turning into the building.

If Ellie couldn’t tell before, she’s completely enamored by you. 

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[christopherisfoive]

hiii can you do #19 with hyunjin or lee know please🙏🙏🙏

Hi Sweet Bean ☕️—your order’s up! Thanks for brewing creativity with me at StayGround. Drop by anytime for a warm refill of inspiration.

Tangled Margins One-shot · University AU · Art-major Hyunjin × Book-worm Literature Student

The Langford Grant, a once-a-year golden ticket, bankrolls two seniors to spend the summer in Oxford tracking how visual art and literature feed each other. The catch: applicants must prove “organic creative chemistry.” Past winners? A filmmaking couple who finished each other’s metaphors in the interview. A sculptor-poet duo who got engaged onstage (still legendary on the alumni page).

You—Y/N L., English major, paid library assistant, notorious introvert—have the research plan: cataloging forgotten marginalia in 16th-century folios. What you don’t have is an artist or, apparently, chemistry.

Hyunjin, final-year fine-arts phenom, absolutely has the art. Rumor says his oil portraits make professors tear up. What he doesn’t have is a literary angle convincing enough for the Langford board.

The application closes in ten days.

Friday night after closing, you’re shelving in Special Collections when someone knocks on the glass, charcoal streaks on his forearms like war paint. Hyunjin smiles—half apology, half dare—and asks if you’ll unzip the case that protects the 1579 Arcadia.

Hyunjin says sheepishly, “I need the ornamental initials for a triptych. I’d, uh, sketch fast.”

“Sketching is the easy part. Paperwork’s the monster.”

Ten minutes becomes an hour. He works in rapid graphite; you hover, terrified he’ll smudge history. Conversation wanders—favorite first lines, color palettes hidden in antique bindings—and when the lights flicker for shutdown he blurts:

“We should enter the Langford.”

You laugh because you’re strangers. He keeps talking:

“Your folio obsession plus my visuals? Perfect cross-discipline story. They love a… narrative.”

He doesn’t say fake dating. He doesn’t have to. The committee’s romance fetish is legend. A silent beat stretches between you; the idea feels implausible—until you picture Oxford libraries and call numbers in roman numerals.

You cross your arms. “Ground rules, then.” He grins, sketch already forgotten. “Rule one: no accidental library fires.”

“Rule two,” you counter, “we let people assume whatever sells the chemistry—but we don’t actually lie.”

“Strategic omissions,” he decides, offers a charcoal-marked handshake. You take it.

Ink still drying on the pact, you both return to your worlds: you to annotated brackets, him to canvases that smell of linseed and storm clouds.

Word travels the way rumors do: a barista posts you and Hyunjin bent over the same notebook, latte hearts untouched. Comments: power couple?, lit-boyfriend goals? You neither confirm nor deny. Easier to ride the wave.

Week 1 – Library table D-12 Hyunjin copies marginal doodles; you draft a paper on intertextuality. He sketches you absent-minded, doesn’t show the page. A passing grad student winks, then whispers to another: “They’re adorable.” Your pulse jumps; you bury it under footnotes.

Week 2 – Studio 3B Oil fumes, Mahler low on a dusty speaker. You read aloud from Sir Philip Sidney while Hyunjin blocks in figures. He asks you what color “longing” is; you say “the inside of a walnut shell.” He paints it without blinking.

Week 3 – Presentation rehearsal To sell the committee, you’ve built a joint piece: Tangled Margins—six canvases echoing folio pages where lovers once scribbled poems in the gutter. Your voice-over will read the found verses while his brushstrokes bloom on screen. It looks… alive.

Somewhere in the rehearsals the staged closeness becomes muscle memory: passing him turpentine without looking, his hand steadying your elbow on studio ladders. Your roommate jokes you sigh Hyunjin’s name in sleep; you roll your eyes too quickly.

Two nights before the Langford interview, you arrive at the studio with Turkish coffee and catch Hyunjin video-chatting a classmate:

Classmate (grinning): “So the bookworm’s working out?” Hyunjin (snort-laugh): “Honestly, it’s perfect PR. Committee will eat the ‘unlikely duo’ vibe.” Classmate: “But sparks?” Hyunjin: “Dude, it’s an act. We need the grant, she needs Oxford. Win-win.”

Act.

The word punches harder than you expect. You backtrack, coffee cups rattling in their cardboard tray, and flee before he turns.

Phone pings minutes later—

HYUNJIN: “Everything okay?” You mute the screen.

The next morning your annotated script lands in his locker with a note: “Run the presentation solo. Good luck.”

You hide in the stacks, revising a new author’s note that scrubs your existence. It feels like ripping sentences out of yourself, but anger keeps the blade steady.

Evening brings the pre-interview mixer—mandatory. You show up alone, hair still smelling of old vellum. Hyunjin’s across the room, tie crooked, looking lost. The committee notices; whispers swirl. Chemistry doesn’t do long-distance.

Professor Han corners you: “I hope everything’s… steady? The board likes harmony.” You give an arch library smile that means mind your own manuscripts.

But your chest aches every time Hyunjin’s laugh tries to find yours and you pretend not to hear.

Interview day. Auditorium smells of nerves and copier ozone. Hyunjin steps to the lectern alone; your chair at stage left stays conspicuously empty. His PowerPoint loads—blank where your text should roll.

He clears his throat, searches crowd until his gaze snags yours near the back. Suddenly he closes the laptop.

Hyunjin speaks to the small crowd before him, “Our proposal was built on conversation between image and word. I can’t present half a dialogue.”

Murmurs everywhere. You freeze; pride and panic duel in your ribcage. When the chairperson prompts—“Do you forfeit?”—Hyunjin answers,

“No. I’d like to invite my co-creator up… if she’s willing to speak for herself.”

A spotlight seems to hit row seven. Your legs move before your brain agrees. At the podium you hiss, “What are you doing?” He murmurs, “Finishing the story. Honestly, this time.”

He pulls from his portfolio a fresh canvas—wet paint glimmering. It’s a facsimile of that Arcadia page, but the margin bears your hurried handwriting beside his painted hand reaching for it. Between the hands, one sentence:

“Real stories refuse to stay in the margins.”

Your breath catches. Committee members lean in like listeners at a campfire. Heart hammering, you open your annotated copy and read aloud the poem once scrawled by a long-dead reader. Your voice shakes, then steadies when Hyunjin continues the recitation, alternating lines. By the final stanza you’re both facing each other, not the board.

Silence. Then—applause that feels like stertorous thunder in an old chapel.

In the hallway, you shove him.

“Perfect PR, huh?” Hyunjin winced, “I was stupid. The act stopped being an act weeks ago, and that terrified me.”

“Words matter. You used them like props.” You huffed turning away.

“Let me rewrite?” He fishes a fountain pen from his pocket, caps trembling. “Starting with I’m sorry, on whatever page you choose.”

Your anger softens—like a spine relaxed after too much tight binding. “Draft a longer apology,” you say, but fingers brush his pen, lingering.

He exhales something like a prayer. “Then we talk? Somewhere not haunted by grant committees.”

You point down the corridor. “Special Collections is empty after five.”

Closed sign flipped, lights low. Among folios and dust motes, he sets sketchbook aside.

No audience now. His sorry tastes like coffee and relief. Your reply is a fistful of his collar. Glass-case reflections blur as kisses deepen, as spines arch against marble tables older than railroads. Blazers slip off, parchment-quiet; his hands trace under your shirt like finding hidden marginal notes.

When he finally unbuttons, each gasp echoes but not loud enough to wake the ghosts. The world narrows to warm skin, cool wood, the scent of old paper turned suddenly electric. Somewhere a loose page flutters to the floor—new history for some future curator to puzzle over.

(Door stays locked. You’re certain.)

The Langford email pings at dawn: Congratulations, grant recipients.

Summer time has arrived. Oxford cloisters, endless daylight. You draft chapters in a window seat; he sketches gargoyles on loose sheets. Some evenings you swap tools—he tries adjectives, you ruin charcoal with smudged fingerprints. All evenings you return to the same college dorm, laughter ricocheting off stone.

The rumor back home evolves: “Did you hear? The folio girl and the painter boy eloped to England.” You two don’t bother to clarify. Let margins do what margins do—hold whispers, hide kisses, keep stories alive.

And when you sign the first joint exhibition catalogue—Painted Verses: Hwang & L.—neither of you uses charcoal or fountain pen.

You both sign in ink the color of a walnut shell.

[porcelainseashore]

The Lost Tapes (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

General Note: One-shots for my series Where We’ve Left Our Love. Encapsulated moments within the past and future lives of Leon x Reader in no particular order. Follows the Resident Evil Remake timeline.

Chapter Summary: Leon traded in his life for Sherry’s. Now, he has to deal with his past trauma and the harshness of military training under Krauser. He finds strength in his memories of you, but will that last for long?

Content Warnings: Hurt no comfort, angst, swearing, psychological trauma, suicidal thoughts, blood and violence, minor Jack Krauser.

Shoutout to RainyKennedy for suggesting the topic of Leon going radio silent for this one-shot!

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Things We Lost in the Fire

Splosh.

He fell head-first into the mud for the umpteenth time to the roars of laughter of his platoon mates. They despised him, and they made sure he knew that.

What the hell was a baby-faced rookie, with his cherubic blonde hair and blue eyes, doing in special forces training? No prior military experience, not even basic training, but fast-tracked into the program because he had survived Raccoon City.

He just got lucky, they all said.

A brawny, well-built man hulked over Leon imposingly. He wore a red beret and sported a striking scar on his face. His thick soled boots squelched in the soggy earth, leaving behind a defined imprint, as he tutted mockingly, “What a disappointment.”

“Get up,” he ordered, without a hint of sympathy for the boy who lay exhausted in the puddle of dirt, mingled with his own blood and sweat.

Leon gritted his teeth, attempting to push himself up to his knees but his arms gave way, as they collapsed from fatigue, causing him to fall back with another splash.

“Looks like he’s just not cut out for it, Major Krauser,” one of the soldiers jeered.

Krauser ignored the comment, but his right eye twitched in impatience. With lightning speed, he hurled the knife Leon had lost in the previous sparring match. It landed with a schnk, embedding itself upright in the ground directly in front of the boy.

Leon flinched, dread sinking in as he understood what was coming next.

“Listen up, rookie,” Krauser called out, pacing back and forth like a predator marking its prey. “I’m gonna count to three. If you aren’t on your feet by then…” He trailed off with a veiled threat.

Get up. He tried to command his limbs to move, but they weren’t listening.

“1…”

Get up! It resounded in his eardrums. Every single time those two words were used to direct him to do something against his will. 

Derisive. 

Contemptuous. 

Scathing.

He heard it now, as if it were a tarnished stain that could not be rubbed away from his mind. Get up! But his body remained motionless, like a broken doll on its side.

“2…”

What was the point? He was fucked either way. 

Fucked the minute he had turned his back on you and headed to Raccoon City. Fucked the moment he had set eyes on Ada. Fucked when he had convinced Claire to leave Sherry with him.

Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the worst. Except, there was silence and then, your voice - tiny, unassuming, but so distinctly you. Leon. 

Tender.

Caring.

Sweet. 

Just as he remembered it. Leon.

He imagined your warm, radiant smile illuminating the shithole he was in. You were reaching out with the palm of your hand, coaxing him gently, Get up.

Slipping his hand in yours, he found renewed strength to pull himself to a standing position, just as Krauser counted, “3…”

The vision Leon had of you disappeared, just as quickly as it came. And once again, he was left alone, surrounded by the people who were charged with toughening him up, through means of brutality and humiliation.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Krauser remarked. Without hesitation, he barked out another order, “Again!”

One of the soldiers from the squad stepped forward, licking his lips and leering at him while he brandished his sharpened weapon menacingly. The rest of the team nodded and grinned at each other in approval. In modern warfare, there was no such thing as a fair match.

Leon peered at his reflection in the cool, metallic blade of the knife he had grasped to support his weight on the way up. Staring back at him was a boy resigned to his fate.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Soft.

Careless.

Sloppy.

Leon was used to the criticisms doled out to him on a regular basis. That, along with the taunts about his pretty boy appearance and how he was too naive for own good. They spared no effort to stamp out his idealism, which was treated as a weakness, unlike back in the days with you, where you saw it as his greatest strength.

Naive. He couldn’t argue with that one. He was naive to a fault. Naive to the point where it cost him his life.

As he lay on the scratchy bunk bed, with a cut lip and his ribs swollen and bruised, the recent events that had come to pass replayed incessantly in his head. 

How could he have fallen for her, that lady in red, who was a total stranger? Why did he still feel something for her, even though she had betrayed him?

The guilt and shame festered within him, eating away at his conscience. Did his relationship with you mean nothing at all? 

No, that wasn’t it. Like you, Ada was there for him when he needed her. Like you, she had a rebelliousness about her that was thrilling and kept him on his toes. It was almost as if he was trying to find you again in every woman he met, from the day he had left you. But he shouldn’t have left. He should’ve stayed there beside you.

When he’d been trapped in the city rubble, he wasn’t sure if he’d make it out alive. So, he clung on to any source of comfort he could get. Someone who would understand what he had been through. A fellow survivor. Except, she had played him like a fiddle.

Maybe all of these reasons he had come up with for going after Ada were just pitiful excuses to make himself feel better. He was a fucking asshole and deserved the treatment he got now. Every insult and every blow. He deserved all of it.

As his thoughts swam around endlessly, he beat himself up internally again and again, before silently crying himself to sleep. However, it never lasted long. He dreamed of buildings engulfed in flames, frenzied creatures ripping and tearing at flesh still fresh and steaming from the bones, putting bullets through the heads of innocents, and yet failing to save each and every one of them, time and time again.

Waking up in cold sweat from the night terrors, he trembled uncontrollably and nothing would help, save for the small photo he had of you hidden in his wallet. He fished for it, holding the edges delicately between his fingers as he traced your face, your jaw and your lips, hoping to feel your presence next to him. You were the only sense of normalcy he had left to go on these days.

You reminded him of the sultry Indian summers and bitter piercing winters of the Midwest. Eating cotton candy on dates to the town fair. Competing in sporting events and basking in the crowd’s jubilant cheering, where you’d winked at him flirtatiously in your cute little outfit, and he wanted to take you right there and then. Trawling through old record shops and frequenting the local drive-in cinema. All these things he cherished and lost. But you reminded him of home.

His breathing calmed and he stopped shaking. Sometimes, he prayed to you like a mythical being when it got too much, where he was tempted to splatter his brains out and end it all.

You’re a good person. Remember that, he’d hear you say. And he knew he had to keep going, for his sake, and the sake of others.

It made him think of Sherry. Poor Sherry. A little girl caught between a conflict of arrogance, filthy profits and coverups. She had no one, except him and Claire. He needed to be a good person for her. It was his fault he had trusted the government too much. 

One couldn’t fathom the embarrassment and devastation he felt in that instance, when he had surrendered their lives over to them. Especially after he had promised Sherry that they would take care of her, only for them to turn the tables around and say, Checkmate.

They always took what they wanted. If they had to raze the ground, trample on and exploit the vulnerable, so be it. He had been utterly blind to their indiscretions all this while.

Despite that, there was no question about it, when they’d asked him to work for them. It was a done deal from the start. He would sign away his life for hers willingly like a goddamned martyr. His performance would ensure her safety, or rather, how well they treated her.

Would you have been proud of him now? Seeing him in this state? He often wondered about that, as he was no longer the bright-eyed rookie cop you had made him out to be.

Did you still think of him? Or had you left his corpse behind, moving on happily to a new start in a foreign country?

He didn’t know anymore and frankly, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he missed you, to the point where it was driving him crazy. It had been months since he last saw you. Even though his last memory of you was when your eyes were red and puffy from the tears streaming down your face, you still looked beautiful as ever. If he could, he would take it all back and hold you in his arms.

God, what he would give just to hear your voice again. Even if it was a simple “Hello.”

However, his wish couldn’t have been granted sooner. As an incentive, the higher-ups had offered him a phone call to anyone he wanted if he showed improvements. Up until then, he hadn’t been allowed any form of contact for valid reasons. For now, it was a choice between you or his parents, though ultimately, he decided on you. You’d understand him, you always did. You’d know what to do and relay this on to them. He trusted you fully.

In the most excruciating month of his training, he endured an infinite amount of grueling drills under the scorching heat of the sun. Sweat dripped from his brow and his lips were parched and chapped. It was punishing, and the thirst and hunger nearly got to him, but he continued on. He had to, for you.

It wasn’t long before the changes started to show. In what could be considered an astonishing turn of events to his military peers, he rose up and fought back. Instead of “Weak!”, “Poor!”, “That's all you got?”, like he had been so accustomed to hearing, Krauser rewarded him one day with a “Not bad.”

He didn’t know he had it in him, but then again it wasn’t exactly a surprise. When he put his mind to it, he caught on quickly. After all, he was a survivor through and through.

Swish. This time, it wasn’t his neck that was pressed against the other end of the blade.

His opponent dropped his knife in defeat and Leon let go, stumbling backwards as he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. He couldn’t believe it at first, that he’d finally emerged victorious in a match.

Air escaped his lungs as Krauser gave him a firm pat on the back. “Guess you really wanted that call, huh?” He huffed. “Well, you earned it, rookie.”

As he stalked off, he turned around briefly to face Leon with a smirk. “Wonder who’s the lucky gal?”

Before Leon could raise any questions, the older man had already disengaged, retreating into the background like a shadow.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon’s hands were quivering again. He’d received a token for the payphone in the building for that special call. Anxiety and nervousness gnawed at his insides. If he wasn’t careful, the token might slip from his hands, which were wet with perspiration. Every step he took was tense and jittery, but finally, he had made his way to the plain, black phone installed against a blank wall.

As he inserted the token into the coin slot, he exhaled deeply, recalling your home phone number from the recesses of his mind. Punching them in, he waited for the tone to ring. It felt as if time had slowed down and he was experiencing tunnel vision as he listened to the familiar Brrring.

What if you weren’t in? What if you didn’t pick up? Would he get a second chance? He pushed away those thoughts and swallowed thickly. 

And then he heard something odd. There was a constant buzzing sound during the call, reminiscent of static feedback from an amplifier, or as though a fly had been trapped in the machine. It irritated him and gave him a slight headache.

But as he ruminated on it, an icy fear paralyzed him and his blood ran cold. The call was being tapped. Those bastards! He should’ve known. He had fallen for it again and led them straight to you. Life was playing a cruel joke on him and he was constantly being handed the role of the fool.

“Hello?”

Your voice snapped him out of his reverie. It was everything he had dreamed of. He’d almost given in then, opening his mouth to speak to you, but he caught himself before anything could spill out.

I love you.

No, he couldn’t implicate you in this. He had to protect you. 

“Who’s this?”

You sounded both sad and hopeful at the same time, and he knew you had waited for him. He just didn’t expect that this was how his first call to you would pan out. Tightening his grip on the phone, he closed his eyes, wishing it were just another nightmare, and that he’d wake up and find you in his embrace again. 

I love you.

He clenched his jaw, his mouth contorting in agony as he eventually hung up without saying a word. It felt like his heart had been wrenched out and all that lingered was a crushing weight against his chest.

“How did it go?” Krauser asked him, as he trudged back to the barracks dejectedly.

“Wrong number,” Leon mumbled out a reply without looking at him.

“Shame.”

It had only just begun to sink in that he’d never see you nor his parents again. Not if he wanted to keep all of you safe. He would have to pretend he didn’t know you, and that you had no shared history together. Nothing had prepared him for this moment, just like nothing had prepared him for what had happened over the course of the past few months. 

It’s just how life works out sometimes. He snorted cynically, suddenly struck by how true that statement he had made to you during the break up rang in his ears.

Whipping out a lighter, he burned the only picture he had left of you, just in case they searched his stuff at some point. Tears clouded his vision as he watched the yellowish flames lick at your face, and your image curled up and blackened into nothing but ash and soot.

I love you.

From a different wing in the building, a gravelly, baritone voice instructed, “Gather all information on the number he had called. I want details of everyone linked to him.”

[bowletta]

my thoughts on mario and luigi brothership!

(spoiler-free edition!)

(click here for the Major spoilers version)

I will sort my thoughts into 3 categories: the good, the bad, and misc (not necesarily good or bad just in the middle)

The Good:

+ the animation. I didn't think theyd be able to recreate the charm the sprite animation had, but they nailed it.

+ great job translating the 2d sprites to 3d models. This was one of my biggest concerns when the game was revealed, but as much as I miss the sprites... they did a good job. Love how they added the blue accents from sato's early m&l artwork.

+ the cutscenes look so good. Very charming

+ probably the best boss battles in the series. Every one (except the 3rd lighthouse one >: [ ) was the perfect balance of fun and difficulty without dragging on too long.

+ extremely fun combat (jump attacks, hammers)

+ the characters. I really really enjoyed the characters.. I wish they cut a few of them to give others more screentime, but I was surprised how attached I got to them

+ the extension corps. Early on i thought they were just a rehash of the bffs from bowser jr.s journey... but I feel that they executed it 100 times better. I wont spoil, but they have a good arc : )

The Bad:

- I think the #1 problem plaguing brothership is the pacing. It is atrocious. The first 5 hours are so boring. It really drags its feet to get anything interesting happening. The villains arnt introduced until nearly halfway through the game. Why.

What sucks is I feel like if you can get past the first ocean, it starts to get really good! But looking back at all the leakers quitting a few hours in... I cant blame them.

- adding onto this, bros moves and battle plugs. It takes 5 hours to get your first bro move. You are stuck with standard jump and hammer for the entire first ocean. As much as i like performing those moves, it got old fast. You get bros moves so far apart, and several of them are introduced so late I didnt bother trying to learn them.

I wish the battle plugs were introduced sooner as well, I think it wouldve helped make the early combat more interesting.

- game feels way too long and bloated.

- why do you select luigi's actions with 'A' in battle. Why is there no option to change it. I struggled with this and fumbled my attacks literally until the 4th ocean. Why.

- frame rate issues. Upon booting the game I thought 'oh this is rough'. But then I got used to it. But as you progress, and more people join your ship, it gets bad. By the end, shipshape island is a choppy powerpoint presentation. I could hear my switch's fan struggling from my couch lol.

- weakest soundtrack in the series. Its not even close. Theres like 5 tracks I like, but that doesnt make up for the other 40+ being so unremarkable, esp when its one of the franchise's highlights.

- timing when counterattacking enemies is wildly inconsistent. With some, the timing feels too generous (the flying flower enemies) and other times it feels frame perfect (lakitu)

Misc:

> Theres so many instances where I cant tell if its supposed to be a homage to older games or just copy pasted from them. Theres a character introduced very late who is very similar to another late game m&l character. The extension corps and the bffs. Etc.

> the timeline is kind of confusing... Like how long ago did concordia break up? How long did it take connie to grow the tree on shipshape? Like did this take place months ago or decades ago??

>them reusing peach and bowser voice clips from 15 years ago (bis) was very funny

final thoughts:

id give brothership like... a 7.5-8/10. Is it the new best mario rpg? Absolutely not lol. It has some serious issues but... I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I think it couldve used a few more years in the oven, but overall, it was cute. Definently a contender for the new generation's super paper mario.

1. superstar saga

2. bowser's inside story

3. brothership

4. partners in time/dream team

5. paper jam

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Noah Hurowitz at The Intercept:

Donald Trump has made no secret of his desire for revenge.

On the campaign trail, he joked about being a dictator on “day one” in office, pledged to jail journalists, and threatened to retaliate against political foes who he felt had wronged him. Now, just days after he secured a second term in the White House, Congress is already moving to hand a resurgent Trump administration a powerful cudgel that it could wield against ideological opponents in civil society. Up for a potential fast-track vote next week in the House of Representatives, the Stop Terror-Financing and Tax Penalties on American Hostages Act, also known as H.R. 9495, would grant the secretary of the Treasury Department unilateral authority to revoke the tax-exempt status of any nonprofit deemed to be a “terrorist supporting organization.” The resolution has already prompted strong opposition from a wide range of civil society groups, with more than 100 organizations signing an open letter issued by the American Civil Liberties Union in September.

[...]

No Evidence Needed

Under the bill, the Treasury secretary would issue notice to a group of intent to designate it as a “terrorist supporting organization.” Once notified, an organization would have the right to appeal within 90 days, after which it would be stripped of its 501(c)(3) status, named for the statute that confers tax exemptions on recognized nonprofit groups. The law would not require officials to explain the reason for designating a group, nor does it require the Treasury Department to provide evidence. “It basically empowers the Treasury secretary to target any group it wants to call them a terror supporter and block their ability to be a nonprofit,” said Ryan Costello, policy director at the National Iranian American Council Action, which opposes the law. “So that would essentially kill any nonprofit’s ability to function. They couldn’t get banks to service them, they won’t be able to get donations, and there’d be a black mark on the organization, even if it cleared its name.”

The bill could also imperil the lifesaving work of nongovernmental organizations operating in war zones and other hostile areas where providing aid requires coordination with groups designated as terrorists by the U.S., according to a statement issued last year by the Charity & Security Network. “Charitable organizations, especially those who work in settings where designated terrorist groups operate, already undergo strict internal due diligence and risk mitigation measures,” the group wrote. “As the prohibition on material support to foreign terrorist organizations (FTOs) already exists, and is applicable to U.S. nonprofits, this proposed legislation is redundant and unnecessary.” If it proceeds, the bill will go to the House floor in a “suspension vote,” a fast-track procedure that limits debate and allows a bill to bypass committees and move on to the Senate as long as it receives a two-thirds supermajority in favor. [...]

Pro-Palestine Groups at Risk

In the past year, accusations of support for terrorism have been freely lobbed at student protesters, aid workers in Gaza, and even mainstream publications like the New York Times. In unscrupulous hands, the powers of the proposed law could essentially turn the Treasury Department into an enforcement arm of Canary Mission and other hard-line groups dedicated to doxxing and smearing their opponents as terrorists. With very few guardrails in place, the new bill would give broad new powers to the federal government to act on such accusations — and not just against pro-Palestine groups, according to Costello. “The danger is much broader than just groups that work on foreign policy,” said Costello. “It could target major liberal funders who support Palestinian solidarity and peace groups who engage in protest. But it could also theoretically be used to target pro-choice groups, and I could see it being used against environmental groups.

HR9495 needs to be opposed, as this civil liberties-violating bill could broadly define any organization a “terrorist supporting organization”, such as pro-reproductive rights/abortion access, pro-LGBTQ+, pro-Palestine, and progressive groups such as Indivisible.

[cyanidedrinkers]

Forgive me father for i have sinned.

A PriceGraves religious guilt fanfic. Tw: Religious guilt, Religious Trauma, Mentions of homophobia, accidental self-harm, Graves has a mental breakdown- Graves loved his Shadow's, They were like family to him and because they were his family he did everything in his power to make them comfortable. One of the major ways he does this is by taking the time to research their religions and adjusting accordingly. During Ramadan Graves tracks who's fasting and makes sure to have the night crew make food for those breaking fast. He keeps Kosher meals on hand at all times and special orders MRE'S for those in the field so they still get fed and don't have to go against their religion. All around base there are rooms for those who need to pray through out the day. He special orders uniforms for those who cant wear what is provided due to their religion, and assigns special roles for those who refuse to handle a gun but still wish to serve. All he asks is that he is informed ahead of time when someone needs to fast, take off for holidays, or pray so he can provide the support they need. If the company ever gets deployed around Saudi Arabia Graves asks around to see who would like to make their journey to the Kaaba. There's a small church area on the base for those to go to throughout the day and designated times for people to go attend service. He even provides custom helmets for those who decide to wear Hijabs or Kippah's and takes feed back on how to make them comfier.

Growing up in the south Graves was raised Catholic, His mother and father were very prominent at the church and so was little Phillip. He went to lent, ash Wednesday, attended church every Sunday, participated in dinner every Wednesday, learned old Latin so he can read the older versions of the bible, went to Catholic schools, he even prayed at every meal and before bed. His religion was sacred to him, It was an important part of his life growing up and so he strives to make others comfortable too. His love for his god tends to backfire though. After his betrayal of the 141 and Los Vaqueros he spent a whole week locked in his room praying and begging for forgiveness. His cross clutched so tightly in his hands that it left bruises and made that spot tender to the touch. Shadow's had stationed themselves outside the door to make sure he was safe but the cries coming from his room were those of pain and terror as he begged for forgiveness and to wash away his sin from his unholy body. It took nearly 3 months for him to get back to normal and when he did he got the worse news possible. "Due to the nature of this mission I'll be assigning 141 to help you. It'll be easier for them to stay on your base so clear out some space." Laswell stated firmly. Less then 24 hours ago Graves was hit with this news, He was scared to say the least. The 141...Staying with the shadows? How would he break it to his boys-, And girls, That the people who killed their teammates, lovers, and friends would be staying with them for god knows how long. Graves ran a hand over his face, His eyes threatening to close and his knees sore from sitting down all day from doing the paperwork for the 141's arrival. What he really wanted was to crack a beer open and watch the afternoon PT be done, He loved watching the new trainees get too cocky with their superior then bicker and moan as they were made to run laps. It brought him back to days were things were easy and he didn't have to worry about anything other then what their NCO was going to do to them. Pushing himself up and out of his chair with a loud groan Graves collected his things and set out to break the news to his shadows. The sun was just setting over the horizon as he took his first step out into the real world. The air smelled like a mixture of sweat, heat, dirt, and....rain? With a quick glance up at the clouds and a curse under his breath Graves made his way to the mess hall. "That stupid weather man said it wouldn't rain for another two days" He whined under his breath as he kicked a rock Infront of him, Repeating this action intel he eventually lost it. "Smells like damn rain to me, The clouds are white as snow but i just know it by the smell" His mumbling and grumbling to himself continued till he made it inside, It caught the eye of some shadows as he passed by them but they shrugged it off as him being hangry or a meeting gone wrong.

Once inside Graves was greeted by the waves and smiling faces of his Shadows, Some ran up to him and started asking how he was and if he was busy today because he didn't make his rounds like he normally does. Graves just smiled and made small talk intel everyone sat down. It was fairly easy to get everyone's attention when he needed it.

He stood and cleared his throat, Graves had prepared to yell over all the noise but the sound of silence washed over the mess hall as he stood and nothing but clattering forks could he heard as the attention was on him.

"Well that was easier than i remember-" He smiles to himself, He's still got it.

"It is with uttermost disappoint that i inform you that the 141 will be staying with us-" Groans and yelling cut him off. His shadows like small children sometimes, They whined and one person let out a very loud "NOOOOOO" which was met by laughter and agreement.

"I know we haven't been the best of friends with them but i expect you all to treat them with respect and to NOT, I repeat, NOT disrespect them in anyway OR steal their stuff." Graves hisses out, He aims that last part at a Shadow not to far away from him who's known for stealing things from people she dislikes.

This gets a unsatisfied groan from her but understanding nods from everyone else, And with that Graves grabs himself some dinner and goes back to his quarters for the night.

Once his meal is done and he finally shuts down his laptop Graves changes into a simple T-shirt and sweats. He removes the cross necklace from around his neck, takes off his socks and gets on his knees at the foot of his bed. His hands, Grasping the cross that lays so perfectly across his hands, and closes his eyes as he bows his head.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Please, Allow these next few days to go well. Allow sin and hatred to not come in-between our mission and deliver my children back to me safely. Give me strength to push through and give strength to those who will have to see the faces of those who killed their loves, friends, and brothers in arms. Allow nothing but peace between the two companies lord. Amen"

Graves stays there for a few more seconds before standing up and setting his necklace at the bedside table. As he gets into bed and drifts into sleep he can't help but have that same gruff voice pop up in his head, Those calloused hands, the smell of cigars, it all swarms his mind intel he finally falls asleep....

That was part one :) if ya'll liked it let me know and I'll probably continue it- I had to do a lot of research so i apologize if everything isn't correct- I'm Agnostic, Former Christian, and don't know very much but I'm trying.

[fantasticalchaos]

The First Thronecoming | TWST X EAH

Chapter 5: Duty Calls!

Summary: It’s another day at school! You’re off to class at NRC, ready for whatever class will through at you at this magical school. And then you see a kid running around so fast he could qualify as a track & field member! Their reason for running in the halls? Their duty as a hero and boyfriend! Duty calls!

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!!❄️🥳 Hope you are all enjoying the holidays, or today in general! This is a long one so I have to split it into multiple parts before continuing on! (Hoping that it’s 3 🤞) Hope that it’s alright with you guys!

P.S.: ANY REFERENCE TO THAT ONE GREAT SEVEN FIGURE Scar 🦁 MENTIONED IN THIS CHAPTER WAS PURELY COINCIDENTAL LMAO 🤡 As per usual, this crossover AU is inspired from @sayuricorner and the NRC Thronecoming headcanons from @lovelyllamasblog!!

⬅️Ch. 4 | AO3 | Ch 6➡️

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Days flew by since the return of Thronecoming at Night Raven College! That chain reaction overflowed the school halls, to the dorms on the school’s off time, to the whole campus!

Seven, even the news ran rampant all around Sage Island! With the town also taking advantage of the hype. Whether upscaling their prices or providing sale discounts to the students shopping for their Thronecoming lists, their wallets will either suffer greatly or mildly.

There is no in-between.

Even the social media bursted too! The trending boards filled to the brim about Thronecoming. Threads of thoughts, memories, and photos posted for their reactions. Others posted little sketches, mainly relating to their ideas of their Thronecoming outfits!

Such posts were boosted by the likes of celebrities (such as Vil and Neige), royalty and other major influential figures. Nevertheless, the trend especially reached its peak in the Ever After universe; A given since its one of the biggest and greatest school holidays!

At this point, both universes will know about Thronecoming!

There is no escape. 😃

Additionally, it’s the first of its kind to be celebrated elsewhere outside of the Fairytale world, so obviously it’s a big deal!

Not to mention it’ll be different in how Thronecoming will run. New changes, new beginnings for these fairytale students of Ever After now learning elsewhere. Without the whole “following your destiny” mindset involved (and the ones who drilled it in), there’s much more freedom to have fun with it all!

And would you look at that! Looks like there’s one couple I’ve been wanting to see after some time!

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

[Location: Hallway Corridor]

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The sun is rising, and the morning comes. It is a new day for everyone.

Students and teachers alike were walking around the school halls. Brushing by one another without too much of a care. Just getting by to the next class, hoping to either get work done or get it over with. All in all, just a regular day at school.

Then again… we are in a magical school remember? More so, Night Raven College. So, what is ever normal on a regular day at NRC?

Tap! Tap! Tap!

A student stops themselves as they hear quickened footsteps behind them. Curiosity got the better of them, turning their head around. And in their eyes, witnessing a student running at top speed towards them.

“AH!” They screamed, stepping to the side in a blink of an eye, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.

“Sorry!” The recipient called out. “Duty calls!”

As the student regains their breath, they look over to the student that almost ram into them. At the back, the student has a green hood underneath their charcoal grey school coat. A faux, brown leather satchel swung along their shoulders as he ran. Nothing else unique on this student’s school uniform attire was much to note, except for his combat boots and half-shaved hair.

From the flashes of their dorm ribbon colours, it exudes maroon red and a golden yellow; A Scarabia student. No, wait– two Scarabia students!

Followed by a light chiding, a sweet voice said, "Careful, Hunter!"

“Sorry, Ash! I’m trying!”

In the arms of said male Scarabia student - Hunter - is a young woman with long, strawberry blonde hair, tied half-up in a shape of a pumpkin. Her arms draped in white, long sleeves wrap around Hunter’s neck. Her eyes opened, a lovely shade of green she looks at him. And while she didn’t wore the charcoal coat, her maroon-coloured vest definitely paints the picture that the two students were from the same dorm.

"Ah." the student realized, watching as they turned around the corner. Another near miss collision. "That must be that lovey-dovey couple that the others told me about..."

They considered the following options laid out to them: 1) follow the two lovers to see what they’re up to. Or 2) consult with a nearby staff member or dorm leader… although the effectiveness of any leader they come across is unpredictable.

After a moment of deliberation, the student made their choice.

“Nah.”

The student thought in the end, turning around and leaving the lovers to their own devices. "It's not my business; I got class anyways."

Unfortunately, that was not the last of the shenanigans.

“GREAT WITCHES AND HEXES!”

“Pardon me!”

“NOOOO!!! My books…”

“Oh my Grimm! Sorry about that!”

”Whoops! Sorry!”

“HEY! WATCH IT!”

“Hexcuse me!” Hunter ran, cradling Ashlynn in his arms tighter. Dodging almost - keyword almost - effortlessly through the long, endless hallways and many people passing through. His chestnut brown eyes too occupied with the signs above the classrooms.

1-B

As soon as the letters on the sign came into his sight, his boots skirt to a full-on stop.

“Another potential fairy-fail saved!” Hunter gently lowers Ashlynn down from his arms. As soon as her glass high heels touched the ground, he let her go. “And just in time too!”

RING! RING! RING!

Indeed, in record time before the 5 minute warning bell came! Perfect timing!

You know what, as Narrator, I’m gonna let you know this: As she said that, a round of trumpets sang. Not the real trumpets here in the school - the ones in Hunter’s head. Just me and you, the reader, would have to imagine by itself. A moment please for these trumpets in the Narrator world to help demonstrate it if you will!

🎶🎺🎺🎺🎶

Thank you trumpets! Your service is appreciated! 👏😊

(*happy ‘your welcome toot*) 🎺\c:

Bye trumpets! Anyways, back to your scheduled chapter!

“Thank you so much, Pumpkin!” Ashlynn wraps around her boyfriend, leaning into his neck. Hunter hugs her back in return. “You really are my hero!”

They separated from the hug, but their hands remain clasped together. Eyes gazing into each other that hold such fondness.

“But of course, Ash!” Hunter brings a hand to cup his girlfriend’s chin. His hazel eyes softened as he gazed into hers, who leaned into his touch. “It’s the least I could do. Can’t let my girl overwork herself to point she’s late to class.”

“Awww, Hunter!” Ashlynn cooed, placing her hand on top of his. They both leaned in closer and closer—

“Ahem!”

The couple looks over. And both sighed in relief. It was their classmates!

Well, one of their classmates from Ever After High: Maddie! She waves her hands at the highest speed of a pendulum on those things to control the pace of the music. Behind the mad hatress, is a lovely handsome young boy with lavender hair and baby blue eyes. He, on the other hand, has his eyes slightly over to the side. Like he didn’t want to be here witnessing this moment right now.

“Hey… / Hey you two!”

“Oh- hey everyone!” Ashlynn said. She and Hunter separated, both embarrassed.

Ashlynn ties her hands at her back, directing her eyes to the green hallway carpet. As for Hunter, he rubs the back of his neck with his right before moving to his other arm on the side. His eyes land on the ground too, but only for a mere moment.

“What are you all doing here?” Hunter asks.

“Well," Maddie starts, holding her hands together. "there were these amazing trumpets I heard playing outside and—”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The lavender boy cuts her off. Hunter did a double take at the dainty boy’s sudden attitude. “We’re waiting for Ashlynn to come help us in our upcoming History group project.”

Maddie bobs her head up and down, “Oh yes! Epel, Ashlynn, Cupid and I are assigned doing the King of the Beasts for our mini intro unit to the Great Seven!”

“The lion?! That’s wicked cool!”

Epel nods, grinning as eyes Hunter. A sense of fire in his eyes. “I know right? Savanaclaw is so lucky to have him!”

“I’m sorry, Epel and Maddie. I hope that I didn’t make you two worried.” Ashlynn apologizes, before offering a light smile. She gestures a hand over to Hunter. “By fairy godmother’s luck, Hunter helped me get here on time.”

“What about Cupid? Is she here?”

Epel shook his head. Maddie, on the other hand, opens her mouth to say something, only to be stopped. Almost as if something in the air is whispering to her!

Pssssst Maddie! There’s a reason, outside of well… y’know? You got the answer right there!

“Oh right! Cupid sent a message to me earlier! Said she needs to get something.” Maddie ends up saying, snapping her fingers. She then took off her top hat.

Rummaging around her hand in her hat, HONKS, zrrrts! and squeaks resound until she pulls out her bright blue MirrorPad. Epel is the only one who is confused as hell about the logic and physics of this. Ashlynn and Hunter on the other hand, had only a slight surprise which was gotten over quickly.

Sure enough though, she quickly unlocks her device. She turns the tablet around to the lovers, and points to a specific text (or in this case, hext) message.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Cupid: Sorry, Maddie! Gonna be royally absent for class today! I got an unhexpected quick stop coming from back home to help out with a love problem!

Maddie: Oh, it’s alright Cupid! I’ll send you some of the project later! That way you can still help out!

Cupid: Thanks a lot Maddie! ❤️

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

“That checks out.” Epel says, as the others hum in agreement while Maddie puts her MirrorPad back into her top hat.

“Still, it’s quite a miracle you two made on time!” Maddie points out, letting out a wink to the roof once more. She then chuckles, bringing her head back as she puts her hat back on. “And not without running into Riddle! He’d lose his head over your stunts!”

They did, in fact, have a few run-ins with Riddle before.

“Heh, about that…” Hunter starts off, looking off to the side. He chuckles a little at the memory of the rose-red tyrant scolding them. “It’s funny cause we did–”

Suddenly, he stops himself.

“Wait— Prof. Trien?!?”

The three nodded in unison.

“Since when was Prof. Trien your homeroom teacher?! I thought Giles was?!?” Hunter asked, his hands on his head. One question coming after another. That Trien?? The stern teacher with the adorable and fluffy cat?!

“He is.” They answered.

“H-how long?” Is the next question he mustered out, his mind still processing this sudden development.

“A couple days ago, I guess.” Epel reasons, side-eyeing the door.

Ashlynn shrugged in unison. “Giles said something about having some important business—”

“In Ever After!” Maddie chimes in, pulling in her head into the shot and out just as quickly. Ashlynn had a confused look on her face before shaking her head, dismissing it.

“Right… and that Trien co-hosting both his and our homerooms.” Ashlynn continues, puts a hand near her mouth. As she yawns, Hunter’s eyes soften once more but with a forlorn look on his face. He gives Ashlynn a pat on the back, earning a smile from her.

“Yah, so until then I guess we’re stuck…” Epel looks around once more, before adding in a snide pout. Annoyance finally washed over his neutral, soft face. He flicks a thumb over to the door. Under his breath, Epel utters, “With him…”

“Oh c’mon, Epel!” Maddie says, slinging an arm on his shoulder. He looks at her, in which she continues. “He’s not that bad!”

“Easy for you to say; You’re mad!” He retorts, pushing her off and rolling his eyes.

“Why, thank you Epel!” Maddie thanks in a jolly tone, matched with an earnest smile. It was almost as if it wasn’t an insult at all!

Naturally, Epel is taken aback.

“Eh?! That’s not what I–“ Epel stammers. He hit himself with a mental facepalm.

How could he forget?! This girl and classmate of his was the daughter of the Mad Hatter! The maddest and well-known figures in the era of the Queen of Hearts! Of course, she thinks of that as such a compliment!

He relents with a defeated sigh, shaking his head. “Nevermind…”

“She’s right though, Epel.” Ashlynn added in. “We dealt with way worse teachers. Prof. Trien is pretty good compared to Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Rumpelstiltskin…” Epel shivers at the name. Those horror stories his Ever After classmates and dormmates told him… Almost makes it feel as if he was a part of those classes - even though he’s a resident of Twisted Wonderland.

The pop quizzes dropped absolutely out of nowhere! Answers and questions all unrelated to what Ever After kids learned beforehand in their actual classes.

And the spinning…. My god the spinning…

What was even more horrific was how casual they were talking about it! Like it was just an average Tuesday to them! It pales in comparison to the teaching here and his dorm life in Pomefiore.

“Epel! Wonderland to Epel!” Maddie waves her hand in front of his shell-shocked face. She snapped her fingers, jolting Epel out of his trance. “Hatastic! We all thought we lost you there for a second!”

As the two talk, Hunter looks over to Ashlynn.

“So, Ashlynn,” Hunter glances back at Ashlynn, hands behind his back. Tilting his head slightly, he asks, “Are you free after class?”

Much to his dismay, Ashlynn sighs. “I’m sorry Hunter…” Hunter’s shoulders slumped as his eyes fell to the floor. Ashlynn, noticing this, offers a empathetic smile. “But I promise: once me and the Fashion Club finish our commissions this week, we can go out like usual, my treat!”

As soon as the sentence fell from her mouth, Hunter nodded understandably. On the other hand, Epel and Maddie turned over to her. Both eyes widened in surprise.

“Great Seven, y’all doing the dresses?!” Epel exclaimed, a bit of his country accent slipping in.

“Why, yes!” She confirmed with a nod before elaborating, “Although, the Fashion Club is dividing the work into parts to work more efficiently. I am in charge of the shoes since it’s my specialty, Poppy does the hair; you get the picture-book!”

Maddie was counting her fingers, tapping each one as she attempts to calculate in her head. Her hands immediately raised to the sides of her head in alarm.

“Peas and crackers! That’s like half of the whole school you’re dealing with! Aren’t you overworked though?”

With a weak laugh, Ashlynn responds, “Don’t get me on the wrong slipper, it’s fairy-tastic working on them! And helping others create their fairytale dream come true makes me happy!”

“I do get tired, it’s not much I can handle! And besides, I told them I’ll take a break later this week.”

“Still though, take a break when you can Ash!” Hunter says, a sudden sternness in his tone. Maddie jumped a little at the sudden change. Epel arched an eyebrow at Maddie’s sudden alertness. Said girl leans over, to which he lends her an ear.

“Hunter is usually a laid back guy! Seeing him this serious is new!”

“Ah, I see…”

“Don’t worry, I will Hunter.” Ashlynn reassures him, turning to face him.

“Agreed!” Maddie seconds. “You and the rest of the club work hard! If you want, I can take care of some of your portion in our project until you’re well-rested!”

“Yeah! They’re both right!” Epel joins in. The lavender boy brings his both of his fists up in the air in support. “Unless you would like to get an earful from Vil on the importance on self-care, I suggest listening to them.”

“It’s alright you guys, I’m used to it! Thanks for the reminders, but it’s nothing much to worry about.”

Despite the reassurance she gives, there is a sense of melancholy that carries itself within her words. One that gives off a sense of duty, responsibility, and loneliness. Ashlynn has her eyes closed, unaware that Hunter and Maddie look at her with concern.

Epel, on the other hand, looks onto his fellow classmate with seemingly indifference and slight confusion. As the only one of the people there not from Ever After, he couldn’t comprehend much of Ashlynn's whole ordeal other than she was a descendant of the Glass Slipper Princess.

Even so, it’s upsetting to see the descendant of Cinderella holding it altogether when she is clearly tired.

“Attention Class 1-B!”

Trien’s voice booms inside the classroom, startling the quartet. They all turned their heads and took a peek inside. Students shuffling to their chairs, others just looking through their books. Of course, there were also some students who were still busy chit-chatting or playing on their phones and MirrorPads with less of a care in the world.

And there is Professor Trien, sauntering walking over to the board. Lucius, Trien’s cat familiar and pet purrs as his owner rubs his fluffy back. A fond smile graces the elder’s face for only a moment. It then turns into a grim, straight-laced face as he brings his head back up to face the entire room. His clears his throat voice follows, loud and steady:

“Homeroom will begin promptly! Please take your seats.”

With a clap of her hands, Maddie turns to face Ashlynn. Her face instantly reverted back to her usual expression of joy and wonder. Though, the jubilant expression on her face is more akin to a warm hug on a cold day rather than a child excited for their birthday.

Maddie then leans forward, grabbing Ashlynn’s hand and then slinging an arm around the Princess’s shoulder.

“C’mon Ashlynn!” Maddie cheers. Another hand of hers then slings around Epel, pulling the two close together. “And you too Epel!” For someone her height, she is pretty strong. She pumps a fist in the air. “It’s time for class now!”

“It was nice seeing you Hunter!” Hunter gives a respectful nod to both Maddie and Epel. For the former as a goodbye to one of his classmates he knew. As for the latter, to meeting him for the first time alone he believed in his mind.

Ashlynn laughs a little, waving her hand at her boyfriend before going inside. “Bye Hunter! Take care!”

“See you soon too Ashlynn!” He waves back, smiling back while his heart melts into a puddle. A lovestruck smile on his face as he watches.

Once he is sure Ashlynn, Epel, and Maddie are inside, Hunter turns back around. Passing by the halls to his designated classroom: Class 1-C. Not too far from them, but there’s still some distance to walk over there.

Ping!

With a confused brow rising, Hunter stops in his tracks. What is it this time? He opens his faux leather satchel, and digs his hand through there. Let’s see here: a few pencils and erasers, a notebook, miniature emergency loaded crossbow, his lunch–

Ah, there it is!

He pulls out his MirrorPad, housed in its snug camouflage cover which has a slight dust to it. His MirrorPad’s Home Screen welcomes him with a bright wallpaper of the woods in the Enchanted forest back home. There was one new notification.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

[1 New Hext Message from Cupid]

Cupid: Hunter! I got the package you requested! Meet me happily-ever-after school at the Botanical Garden!

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Hunter looks up and looks back into the classroom of 1-B. There, in one of the seats were the trio all chatting with their project in front of them. Ashlynn notices him and sends a small wave with a sweet smile.

He smiles and waves back. Hunter turns his head back down as his fingers types back.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Cupid: Hunter! I got the package you requested! Meet me happily-ever-after school at the Botanical Garden!

Hunter: Hexcellent! Hext you later!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

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Thank you for reading! And thanks for your patience and support! I really do appreciate it! 🫶🥰 It’s been a while since I’m 1) working hard on each chapter, 2) working on headcanons for the voices in the stp x eah au, and some other stuff that happen in my life. I was originally supposed to do a sneak peek on this chapter and the stp x eah au voices but I was locked tf in on writing this (and next) chapter! Hoping that motivation and energy continues for this and my other works behind the google docs & Notes! 💪😁 With the next chapter, it’s halfway there! hehe Once again, thank you everyone so so much! It’s been so long since I write stories and fanfics! And one of my few goals this (and last) year was to overcome my writers block and write! And I did it! 🥹 I’m having so much fun writing this crossover story!! And seeing y’all enjoying this too makes me happy too! Y’all motivates me to keep making more while having fun along the way! I can’t thank y’all enough!! So, until then see you all next chapter! 👋🧑‍🎄

Happy holidays everyone! Have a merry day/night! And Happy New Years in Advance! ❄️🎇

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Hungary 2017

-“One point between Sebastian Vettel and Lewis Hamilton”

-This circuit is shaped so weirdly

-Ferrari row 1 lockout!!! Then Mercedes, Red Bull, and McLaren. Very nice!

-“Behind Sebastian Vettel, some excellent starters as well. The likes of Max Verstappen, only when he’s been taken out by other cars at the start of the season, has he not made up places from the lights out”

-Aah Sebastian leading, Lewis losing places, Carlos making up places,Daniel spinning out!!!

-Not even one lap and there’s a safety car

-“Someone hit me..if that’s who I think it was” Eeeh that’s uncomfortable

-Everyone started off good, and then Max had a lockup and then Daniel got hit :(

-“For the first time ever, there has been a safety car on lap one in the Hungarian Grand Prix, for the first time ever Daniel Ricciardo is out in the first lap of a Grand Prix, for the first time ever the man on pole has lead the first lap of the Hungarian Grand Prix”

-“The two Force Indias came together as well” haha

-Kevin: “If you can do what Hulkenburg did to Grosjean, it’s going to be a dirty race”

-Lewis vs Max and Carlos vs Alonso!

-“Some canny defending from Max Verstappen there” That was actually very fast thinking from him

-Both younger drivers making their positions stick

-Oh angry Daniel in the pit wall

-10s penalty for Max (I’m getting flashbacks)

-Yellow flag?

-“The Ferrari’s just pulling away into the distance”

-Lol is this just 2017’s Mexico 2024 race? If Valterri somehow overtakes Kimi and this goes from a Ferrari 1-2 to a 1-3, I’m going to assume it is

-“Okay okay leave me alone” Carlos getting heated

-Not the Mercs having IT issues 💀

-Are the Ferrari’s going to race???

-Actually, probably not good for the championship

-Although Sebastian coming 2nd, still wouldn’t compromise his championship at this point very much

-But, maybe not the best in the long run

-I don’t know what I’m saying, I just want them to go wheel to wheel since Kimi does look faster

-Are the Mercedes going to race?

-“What the ***** is wrong with this Williams? If he cannot stay behind then he should stay in the reporting stuff.” Cold, Kimi, cold

-It’s fun when Alonso and Carlos battle it out

-“They love to find themselves on the same bit of tarmac don’t they, these two”

-“If Ferrari want to win this race, surely the best thing they can do at this moment is let Kimi Raikonnen past his teammate but in the championship battle the last thing that Sebastian Vettel is going to stand for is losing any more points than he has to”

-My ramblings before weren’t too far off after all

-Dude this is really giving Mexico 2024

-Kimi saying that if he doesn’t start pushing he’s going to be caught by the Mercedes

-Honestly after that penalty, Max still came out p5, it could’ve been worse (he could’ve had a 20s penalty and come out p16)

-Haha the IT problem at Merc got fixed and instantly Lewis laid out everything he wanted to say before that he couldn’t

-“Okay man look, I got a lot of pace, now let me use it” “And this radio stuff sucks, my last tires were perfect, I could’ve kept going” “Just let me know when I can race Valterri”

-Ahaha Lewis catching Kimi now, this is giving major deja vu

-Bloody hell, they messed up Nico’s pit stop

-“Lewis will let you go by (Valterri), if he can’t go past Raikonnen” Interesting, that’s a factor that wasn’t present in Mexico 2024

-“Verstappen still the fastest car on track” That, unfortunately, also wasn’t present in Mexico 2024

-Aaah is Kimi going to go for it??

-Never mind, that both got stuck in traffic (Right where Nico and Kevin are racing it out, not fun)

-“I’m going to ruin my tires even more. Is this what we’re going to do for the rest of the race?” Why won’t they just let him go past?? (I know why, I’m still going to question it)

-✨George Russel✨

-“He said it’s be a dirty race” “He wanted to join it” Haha Kevin

-Charles in the Ferrari garage>>>

-“Red Bull, back out there in the fight again””I mean he’s 10s off the lead and he had a 10s penalty!”

-Max threatening Valterri, so now Mercedes scrambling, wondering if they should swap the teammates now or not

-Don’t know if he’s actually going to overtake Valterri, nobody seems to be able to overtake anyone for the past ten laps

-Ferrari 1-2!!!

-Oh wow the Mercedes actually swapped

-Aww does Sebastian say “Forza Ferrari” every time he wins with them? Cute

-Him being so animated in the cooldown room>>

-Him dancing on the podium>>

-Ahaha Fernando taking the podium in, sitting on a deck chair by the cars

-“Kimi there is a huge Finish support here, maybe a couple words in Finish for your fans before we get back to English?”

“Well I think they all understand English”

I love him your honor 😭😂