#as he leads a singalong for everyone to say they believe in him

[jt-theblogger]

people like to talk about scary wrestlers. and say undertaker, malakai black, wyatt sicks, house of torture (for other reasons).

nah. you want to know the scariest wrestler today?

joe hendry. i look into his eyes as he dramatically turns to the screen and i question if i have just joined a cult.

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Two Down, One To Go’ - part 1

My biggest gripe with how late the three canon lives system was brought in is that the early deaths never got the weight they deserved in canon. So I fixed that. The night of L’Manberg’s independence is the biggest party any of them have ever attended, but Tommy’s not in a merry mood. Tubbo finds out why. Featuring a little headcanon about how a person knows how many lives they have left.

part two | part three

---

Night of Independence

“One, two, three, four, five-” His heart was racing, fingers tightening on the bowstring. There was a kind of dread in his heart like never before. Not only was Dream a better shot than him; he knew it. And to bet both the future of his country and one of his discs on his abilities…

“-six, seven, eight, nine-” His arms ached; his whole body ached. Bruises and scrapes and barely healed gashes littered his limbs from Eret’s betrayal. That b*stard. He snuck a glance at his fellows. They’d all lost so much today. All their things, a war, a country; not to mention a life apiece. Something had erupted inside of him when they’d woken back in the camarvan with a tally mark each: something red and explosive. And they returned his gaze, Tubbo and Fundy watching with bated breath. He couldn’t see Wilbur from the direction he was facing, but he imagined his expression was about the same. Fear, apprehension and just the smallest sliver of hope.

“-Ten paces fire!” And then it died, for the second time in twenty-four hours. As did Tommy.

The mood around the campfire was merry. Wilbur had poured them all drinks (watered down for everyone but him, especially Fundy) and was currently leading him and Tubbo in a half-drunk singalong of something that had started as the L’Manberg anthem, that had since devolved into innuendos about explosions and jokes about ‘independance’, though they kept in the parts with the names and the ‘it’s a very real and not blown up L’Manberg’. Tommy tried to have a good time, shouting “F*ck Eret!” every time that line came up, but the feeling was bittersweet. He slipped his hand inside his shirt and felt the tiny ridges. Two tallies. He hadn’t told the others yet. They’d given him enough pity when he’d told them how he’d traded away the discs. He didn’t need them fawning over him for this as well.

Unfortunately, it seemed he hadn’t been subtle enough. Tubbo sat down beside him, out of breath from dancing and grinning at Wilbur’s antics, and the first thing he laid his eyes on when he looked to Tommy was his hand inside his shirt. Tommy internally cursed himself and quickly removed it, but Tubbo had already latched onto the topic, “Feels weird doesn’t it?”

“Hm?” “The… Death mark.” A slight tremor passed over him, his eyes wandering down to where his own sat. The marks always showed just below a person’s collarbone, on the left side of the chest, close to the heart. “Maybe not weird but… I never expected to have one this- this early.” His words hung in the night air. They were both just kids, Fundy too, and they were all too close to a permanent death than they should be. But Tommy found some solace in how his friends had survived the war gaining only one. They were the lucky ones. Tommy had not only lost his most valued possessions but another life too. There was a line to death, and now Tommy walked along it, feet placed end to end like an acrobat tip-toeing a tightrope. Any moment now could be his last forever. It was unlikely he’d die right this second: he’d just secured peace for goodness’ sake, but what if? All it could take now was a stray arrow, a random attacker, a careless match finding an explosive in an untouched corner of L’Manberg, and that would be it for him. Gone.

Tubbo shuffled closer, “Tommy, are you okay man?” Drat. Once again, his face betrayed his feelings. He glanced around the partying men. Of all the people here, he trusted Tubbo the most, but mainly, the secret was starting to weigh him down worse than a full suit of netherite. He was tired of saying he was fine. Besides, it was Tubbo. His best friend, his brother. They’d been fighting together since the beginning: the Disc War, the Pet Wars and most of his other scuffles with citizens of the SMP, major and minor. He could trust Tubbo.

“Tubbo, I… Give me your hand.” One boy put his hand in the others’, and Tommy laid it on his chest, where they could both feel the lines representing a betrayal and a duel through the thin fabric of his shirt. Tubbo’s face changed from concern to horror to pity as he ran his fingers back and forth over the two ridges, checking, again and again, to verify what he couldn’t quite believe was true.

“You never said-” He started to say, but Tommy silenced him with a finger to his own lips hurriedly. “I didn’t want to worry anyone.” He sighed. “Or detract from the celebrations. I’m fine. It’s just a second mark.” Tubbo gave him a look halfway between disappointment and sympathy. “First of all, it’s not ‘just a second mark’ and second, you know that because I can see it on your face. It’s affecting you, dude.” Tommy looked away, closing his hand around Tubbo’s. “I don’t wanna think about it tonight, but I can’t-” He looked around at his four closest comrades. “I can’t stop running it over in my head, how much we’ve lost.” He gestured around them, at the land of their country torn apart, at the small patch of scorched grass they’d found sound enough to celebrate on. His eyes met Tubbo’s, creased with worry. “Five lives between us. Five.”

“Well… We’ve lost a lot, but we’ve also gained, y’know? What you did-” “How do you feel?” “Hm?” Tommy squeezed Tubbo’s hand. “How does it feel to be down a life?” “Don’t you remember?” He smiled faintly. “It was only this morning.” “I was a bit preoccupied, Tubbs.” They giggled half-heartedly. “True.” There was a moment of quiet broken only by the sounds of the party, and then; “I suppose I’m okay. I know I’m a bit closer to dying now, but I’ve still got another chance. So I can manage, I think.” “Do you feel more… mortal? Vulnerable?” Tommy’s voice was small. “Yeah. Like, I know what it’s like to die now- or, I know I can die. That it’s possible. I think that’s what it’s like for the others as well.”

Tubbo’s gaze drifted to look over at Wilbur, and Tommy’s soon followed. “Well, he seems fine.” The blonde remarked as Wilbur whirled past, drink in hand, a brown coat over his revolutionary uniform, adding more and more names from the crowd around them to the anthem as Fundy looked on, bemused. “I guess,” Tubbo shrugged. “He’s a bit older, so it’s less… jarring to be down one. Still not ideal, but not entirely unexpected.” “Well he’s certainly taking it well.” And at that Tubbo laughed. “He’s also quite drunk. So drunk he hasn’t noticed Fundy’s stopped watering his beers down.” That brought forth a small smile from Tommy. Tubbo continued: “He’s had time, y’know?” He paused, waiting for Tommy to look him in the eye. “When… When did you notice it?”

“After Dream took off with the discs. I finally came down from the adrenaline rush when I was alone in my house, just before I got back on comms to let you guys know. I felt it while I was taking off my armour. The tiniest little sting... And there it was.” He remembers standing alone in his house, examining both the duel scar and the extra mark in the grimy mirror he’d taken off the wall and leant on the floor. For a moment it was like the floor had gone out from beneath him again, but luckily this time it wasn’t an explosion. It hadn’t crossed his mind before then: all his brainpower had been in use, between worrying for his friends, discs, country and bow skills. The physical and mental pain of losing the duel had kept his mind off his own mortality as well, but there it was, staring him in the face, taunting him.

‘Two lives in less than twenty-four hours,’ it seemed to say (and he’d be omitting important details to not mention how it spoke in an American accent) ‘You won’t make it to twenty, or eighteen, or even your next birthday. Are you running out of time? Are you running out of time? Are you running out of ti-’

“What you did was incredibly brave and selfless.” Tubbo’s voice snapped him out of the memory of Death calling out to him, or maybe that was just him being melodramatic. “More like stupid. I didn’t know what I was doing.” “Well, Wilbur did tell you, he said ‘ohh Tommy, this country isn’t worth your life’.” “I wasn’t thinking.” “Well... I don’t care.” Tubbo squeezed his hand. “And maybe that’s a little selfish, but we’re free because of the trade you made, and maybe you’d never have pushed Dream to that point without the duel. I don’t know. But now we’re free. We’ve been beaten down by that tyrant for so long, but now we’re finally free.” He gave him a firm smile, “Yeah.” It was hard not to get swept up in Tubbo’s good moods, so Tommy reached for his drink. “Cheers. To L’Manberg!” “L’Manberg!” Tubbo knocked his tankard into Tommy’s and they both took a long drink. Wilbur overheard them and knocked Fundy’s drink out of his hands in his tipsy enthusiasm, and then there was another round of My L’Manberg. And as Tommy listened to the growing, rowdy chorus of his country, he let go of his fears for a while. Maybe they’d never leave him for the rest of his life, but for right now, they had their walls, their drinks and their song.

And as long as there were more crosses on the flag than lines on his tally, he’d be fine.

---

Taglist: @nixavia @zrenia (Please let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist in future :)

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 1

1

“You can all bloody kiss my ass!”, I growled at the men standing around me. “There isn’t a chance in Hel I’m getting on that ship!”.

“Breathe, Y/N”, Eist tried calmingly. “This is what’s best for everyone”. “Best for you and your bloody war!”, I snarled.

In the corner of the great hall stood a mess of cases, containing most of my earthly goods. None of it had any importance to me; except for the small chest of knickknacks I’d gathered while on trips around the smaller islands of Skellige, and the one time Eist had brought me to Cintra Capital with him.

“Y/N, you’re not a child. Stop acting like one”. I smacked him across the face. A murmur of stifled laughter rose among the leather clad men surrounding me and Eist.

King Eist Tuirseach. The great leader of our lands; and my pain in the ass older cousin; who was getting ready to ship me of to a place far away – that I had no intention of going to.

“What you’re really trying to say, is that I’ve gotten too old to marry of to someone worth while; so now you’re using me as payoff to a sweaty sister-fucker!”. I picked up a goblet, and threw it at the wall; mead dripping down from where I’d hit. “You don’t know that he’s sweaty”, Eist smiled.

“Eist…”, I said, trying for sweetness. He looked at me pointedly. “When we are in public, you’ll address me as is fit my title”.

“My liege”, I sneered. “Great majestic cousin, and king of these isles. I am merely trying to explain to you, that if you intend to proceed with this plan of shipping me off to Temeria; there is a great chance that I might burn this whole fucking castle to the ground, and piss on the ashes!”.

I heard a gruff chuckle from a dark alcove connected to the hall.

Eist sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to keep you away from fire until you’ve boarded the ship”.

Rage boiling inside me, I stomped my foot into the ground, and screamed.

Eist closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows; shaking his head. “You can scream all you want, my dear. This is happening”, he said calmly. “No!”, I yelled. “Yes”, he answered. “You are going to Temeria. You are marrying Foltest. You’ll bear him whatever children he wishes to produce. And you’ll do it all with a smile”.

A stranger stepped into the light from the alcove. He was tall, and built like a boulder – muscled and strong. His eyes shone a strange shade of amber, and his hair was grey- verging on white.

“Why does he even want me? I have no real title…”, I said. “You’re my cousin. That is title enough”, Eist interrupted. He sat down at the head of the table, pouring himself a new goblet of mead. Apparently the one I had thrown was his. “Foltest needs a queen. You are a highborn woman; with a dowry that goes with it”.  He took a sip from the goblet. “You also happen to be a bloody pain in the ass; with the reputation that goes with that as well. You are lucky Foltest has agreed to this union. You weren’t exactly an easy sell”.

I laughed out loud, and sat at the table, a few seats from him; worried that I might stab him with a fork if I got too close. “There it is. A sell. I’m a commodity to be traded with”.

“You will do as you’re told, woman!”, Eist said, patience clearly running thin. I wasn’t having it.

“Would you say that to Calanthe?”.

Eist slammed both his fists into the table. “Enough!”, he roared. I froze in place. He breathed deeply, collecting himself. “Y/N; you are my favorite cousin. A fact that has unfortunately let you to run wild and do as you’ve wished for much too long. I cannot allow that to continue anymore”. His pained but resolute eyes met mine. “I know you won’t believe this, but I am doing this for your sake as well. You can no longer call Skellige your home”.

“You’re right”, I said, swallowing tears. “I don’t believe you”.

He looked down, clenched his fists, and sighed. “We’ll speak later. I have to finish planning your travel arrangements”, he said; and stood up, walking in the direction of the whitehaired stranger; who’d been watching our exchange with a smirk on his face.

“Geralt, I wish to discuss something with you”, Eist said, before turning to his men. “Take her to her room. Make sure there are no ropes for climbing out the window; cut up her sheets if you must”. He and the man walked towards the door leading to his private chancery.

“And hide the matches”.

---

I stood in front of a mirror in my now barren room. Thrude – my nanny turned hand matron, and dear friend – was desperately trying to cheer me up.

“Chin up. You’ll be a queen, m’lady”, she said smilingly. “I’ll be a puppet”, I answered. She raised a sponge to cover my face in powder. “Don’t”, I said. “Let them see that I’ve been crying”. She sighed. “At least brush your hair”. She handed me the hairbrush; and went to get my dress for the feast.

It was a ridiculous thing; nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. Black velvet with puffed sleeves, white laced trim; and a white lily on the front of the skirt. They’re dressing me up as the Temerian fucking flag, I thought.

I brushed my hair; and allowed Thrude’s old hands to run through it, braiding it into and intricate crown on the top of my head. When she was finished, I grabbed her hand, and put it to my cheek. “Tootie”. She smiled at my use of the nickname I’d given her as a child. “I could go with you! I could live with you in your cabin. You could continue to train me as a vöelve!”.

“I never trained you to become any such thing”, Thrude said indignantly. I smirked at her. “Teaching me about herbs, healing and monsters? That’s a proper lady’s education?”. “You’d do best to forget those things where you are going”, she said. She put her hands on either side of my face; and looked at me kindly but sternly.

“Listen to me, girl”. I hadn’t been a girl for quite a few years; but her age and the respect I held for her made me accept her choice of words. “Skellige is not the place for you anymore. You are off to a better future than you could ever have here... or anywhere else”.

I snorted in a quite undignified way. “A future as the wife of someone who is only taking me, for the money my cousin will pay him to do so… as a stepmother of a girl conceived through incest; and whose age I am closer to, than I am her fathers!”. I swallowed bile. “I’m going to be sick”. I put my head between my knees; my nose touching the velvet of the dress. She patted my head comfortingly.

“You must leave this place behind”, she said. “Become what is expected of you”. “Instead of…?”. I looked up at her.

She looked down and shook her head. “That’s for another time”. She shuffled her old body in the direction of my bed – the bare mattress reminding me of my cousins’ heartless elimination of my escape plan.

“But there won’t be another time”. I stood up. “I leave tomorrow”.

“Then cherish tonight”, she said.

From under the bed, she pulled out a small pouch; and handed it to me. “My own mother gave me this on my wedding night”, she said; tears in her eyes. “I was saving it for you; for when you’d finally stop being a little imp, and settle down with a good man”. She shook her head. “At least he’s a king…”. I chuckled through my tears, and took the pouch in my hands, opening it. Inside was a silver chain, adorned with an appendage shaped as a small frog.

“Ma’ told me that sometimes you get a frog; but shower it with enough kisses, and it might turn in to a prince”. She helped me put it on. “In your case; I believe it’s the other way around. You are stubborn, you act before you think, and you jump around too much”. She kissed my forehead. “But you can be something more”.

She took both my hands into hers and squeezed them gently. “You can be a queen. And one to be reckoned with!”.

I sniffled. “All I have to do is let a man I don’t know and don’t want, kiss me… and touch me… and…”. I heaved. “I really think I’m going to throw up!”.

She chortled. “He managed to bed his own sister. He must have some charms”. She winked at me. “Might even have a good enough cock to go with them”.

“Tootie!”, I cried out.

“Oh, calm yourself, girl! You know your way around a mands body. We both know that”. She wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t give her the pleasure of an answer. In stead I rolled my eyes at her.

“There we are, dearie. Now I recognize you”, she smiled. “Remember, it is not unheard of, for queens to take lovers other than their husbands. You might not even have to bed him that often”.

I sighed. “What am I going to do without you?”.

She patted my cheek. “You are going to grow up”.

---

The great hall was filled with laughter and dancing.

A bard from the continent was playing his lute; surrounded by red-cheeked girls, all vying for his attention. He seemed to me to be an absolute windbag; but I could understand the effect he had on them; blue eyed and brightly smiling.

As I stepped into the room; the music stopped, and the crowd turned to look at me. A roar of cheers and well wishes from all sides; and my strongest impulse was to turn around, and run back up the stairs. Thrude took a firm hold of my hand, and pushed me forward. “Go on, girl. This is your night”.

The bard began his music again, leading the room into a singalong of a gay tune; about a selkie and her lover. Dancing continued, and drinks were flowing. This was a joyous event – and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock; and die.

We were stopped in our tracks by a tall man, I had not met before. “Lady Y/N”, he said haughtily. “Let me congratulate you on this glorious occasion of your engagement and upcoming marriage. I must admit that my master had hoped a different arrangement could have been made. But, alas, here we are”. “I’m sorry”, I said, caught off guard. “Who is your master?”.

“My apologies, my lady”, the man bowed. “I am a representative of Nilfgaard; Gaunter O’Dimm. Loyal servant of the true emperor of the fore mentioned lands”. “Usurper”, Thrude said, and spat at the floor. She pulled at my hand.

“I am sorry, sir, but I must take my leave. I must see my cousin”, I smiled, voice shaking. “Of course, my lady. I wish you good health”, O’Dimm said, and stepped aside for us to pass.

“Who was he?”, I asked Thrude. “No one good”, she answered quietly.

I sat down at the head table, watching the festivities; completely numb. The small silver frog rested between my breasts, cold against my skin.

“You look beautiful”; Eist said from next to me. “I look like a pig for market”, I answered, pulling at the uncomfortable corset Thrude had squeezed me in to. “Well; a lovely pig none the less”, he said.

I spent most of the night staring into space; not touching any of the food placed in front of me. The mead and schnapps on the other hand; I had my fair share of.

“You must eat”, Eist grumbled. “Not fat enough for slaughter yet?”, I sneered. “You’re not being slaughtered. You’re getting married”, he answered. “What’s the difference?”, I mumbled.

A fight broke out in front of the table. Well; not so much a fight as a beating. A drunk distant cousin of Crach an Craite’s new wife, had apparently taken a disliking to the bard reciting a sonnet to his fiancée; and was now dragging him by the nose to the floor in front of us.

“Witcher!”, the drunkard growled. “Control your pet!”.

The whitehaired stranger was leaning against a pillar; staring into a mug of ale. “He’s not my pet”, he muttered with a gruff voice. It sounded like it came from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Well, I don’t know how you do it on the continent”, the drunkard said, “but here in Skellige, if a mutt is acting wild; we cut of his balls!”.

The bard looked terrified. “Geralt!”, he pleaded. “Do something!”. The angry man pulled out his dagger and started waving it in front of him; swaying from side to side – obviously having trouble focusing through his drunken haze.

“Ger… Geralt!”, the bard shrieked. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

Eist looked at me. “Rognir! You’ve made the lady smile! Thank you!”, he laughed. “Now let the poor lad go”.

The man burped. “Bugger that”, he said, and stepped forward, dagger raised.

A hand grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back. The stranger was holding the drunkard in an armlock. “That’s enough”, he said. “Leave the bard, drink some water; and go remind your woman why she chose you in the first place”.

The bard ran to safety behind a group of girls; who all began to fuss over him.

The stranger let go of Rognir; who shuffled away into a dark corner; where a plump girl was waiting for him.

“Wolf”, Eist said. “Join us”.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table from us; accepting a new mug of ale from a servant.

“Y/N; this is Geralt of Rivia”, Eist said. My eyes met the strangers; who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Geralt, let me formally introduce you to my cousin; Y/N. The future queen of Temeria”.

“Princess”, the man nodded at me. “I’m not a princess”, I answered, and drained my fourth serving of mead that evening.

“She’s right”, Eist said, and took away my goblet. “Princesses don’t usually drink like sailors”. The stranger chuckled. “Y/N; Geralt is a witcher”, Eist continued. “I have asked him to accompany you on your journey to your new home”. The witcher looked at me again, his eyes narrowed.

“Him?”, I asked. “What happened to me being a future queen? Don’t I get a dozen soldiers on white horses?”, I snorted, and grabbed my glass of schnapps to replace the mead.

“No, you don’t. Mostly because I know you’d either annoy them until they leave you on the side of the road; or try to seduce some of them into letting you run away”, Eist said. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that, Y/N; I’m not stupid. Poor Eyrick’s heart is still broken after your tryst last spring”.

Eyrick – firm, handsome… dumb as rocks. I’d made it clear I was in it for one thing. He’d taken that as a sign that I was playing hard to get; and sold his only goat to buy an engagement ring.

“Did he ever get his goat back?”, I smirked. “I bought him two new ones”, Eist answered. “The other one had already been made into dinner”.

I laughed heartily. “Poor Eyrick”. “Poor goat”, the witcher said. I caught his gaze. Had the situation been different, I might have flirted with him; handsome as he was… in his own rugged, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-I’m-wearing-as-long-as-it’s-clean way. I corrected myself as I saw a black stain on his sleeve. “Nekker”, he said, studying my expression. I held his gaze for as long as I dared, and returned to my glass.

A sudden rush of blood to my head reminded me that Eist had probably been right about me eating. I was well and drunk.

“So”, I said, “Eist has asked you, but you’ve not accepted? Coin not good enough?”. “I don’t make it a habit to meddle in politics”, he rumbled, and took a sip from his mug.

“See, cousin?”, I smirked. “Even the witcher knows a livestock trade when he sees one”. “Not the time, Y/N”, Eist muttered, and put a chunk of bread on my plate. I took a resentful bite of it.

“Geralt”, Eist said. “I am not asking you to take a side in the war. I am asking you, as a friend, to keep my cousin safe until she is in the arms of her new husband. Nilfgaard has been making moves north of their boarders, and I worry she will be in danger from kidnapping on her journey”. The witcher sighed. Eist leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You are many things, wolf, but you are not heartless. You’ve already shown me this once. You know what might happen, if they get to her before she reaches her destination”.

“And what is that?”, I interrupted. Eist sat back. “You won’t have to worry about that, if the witcher agrees to my proposition”. He smiled solemnly; before looking back at the witcher. “I will pay what you ask”.

They were both quiet for a long minute. Something unspoken passed between them, before finally the witcher grunted; and nodded. He took another sip of his ale.

“How is the child?”, he asked. “Last I heard, still growing in its mothers’ belly”, Eist answered. “She’s well, and will – along with the child – have the best care both during and after the birth. You know I would not lie about this”. The witcher nodded again.

“So, you will do it?”, Eist asked. “I will. On my terms”.

“Of course”, Eist answered, seeming relieved. “Anything. I have the ship ready for tomorrow afternoon, and will send any men with you that you might need. The lady’s belongings have already been packed, and horses will be waiting for you in Cintra Capital once you make land. Nilfgaard will be relentless in their search for her. They want nothing more right now, than to stop this wedding”.

“No”, the whitehaired man said. “We leave tonight. She packs light; and we take a fisherman’s ship to Attre; travelling on from there. Just her and myself”. A giggle was heard from behind a pillar; where the bard was charming one of the maidens from his fan-club. “And him. If he stays here longer, I’m afraid he’ll become a gelding in no time”, he said, glancing at a stout and angry looking old man; who was probably the girl’s father. Eist nodded.

My head was beginning to clear, as I was realizing what was happening. “You’re sending me with him? On a fisherman’s boat across the ocean; to then traipse across the continent in nothing but my plain dress and boots?”. “You can bring your sgian-dubh”, the witcher chuckled gruffly. I was surprised he knew the word for my hidden knife.

“I don’t have one”, I said, and looked at him defiantly. “Yes you do; you’ve strapped it to your leg”, he said in a bored voice. Eist bit his lip to stop from laughing at my affronted face. “Calm yourself, girl. I haven’t been looking up your skirts. The velvet in your dress gave away the shape of the knife against your thigh”.

I scoffed at him. “Well, you were looking at something, since you noticed my thigh”, I said. “You’d be better of slipping it into your boot. Makes it easier to reach when needed”, he smirked.

I did not like this man. 

“Eist…” I began. “It’s done”, Eist answered. “I’m begging you…”, I pleaded, “in the name of the love I know you have for me – please. Don’t make me do this. I can fight. Make me a shield maiden!”. “That would require that you actually were a maiden, dear heart”, he said. “Y/N, I do love you. That is why I am doing this”.

My heart dropped, and tears began to well up in my eyes, as I desperately tried to control my panicked breath.

“Wolf; I’ll send the ship to Cintra tomorrow afternoon, as planned, packed with men and the lady’s luggage. They will travel to Temeria; pretending to be transporting her – but the carriage will be empty”. “That will give us some extra days before they come looking for us”, the witcher answered. He turned to look at me.

“Princess, finish your meal calmly, then make your way to the courtyard. Pretend to be going to relieve yourself. I will meet you there”. I was breathing heavily. “No…”, I whimpered. “Not yet. Let me have tonight. Let me sleep in my own bed. I want to say goodbye”.

Eist was pretending to smile, his eyes miserable. “This is goodbye, Y/N”, he said, and took my hand to kiss. “I wish I could have made things different for you, child. You have my heart and my brotherly love; always”. He stroked my cheek.

“Now go!”. He turned away from me.

From behind me, Thrude put her hand on my shoulder, gesturing for me to follow. Not breathing, I grabbed it, and we walked briskly towards the door nearest our table.

---

We hurried down some stairs. Going in to the courtyard, I halted; making Thrude turn to look at me. “Come along, dearie. We must haste”. “Tootie… will I ever see you again?”. She looked down. “I hope so, child”. She kissed my cheek.

“Princess!”, someone hissed from the shadows. The whitehaired witcher stepped into the moonlight. “Follow me”. He walked towards the stables. Thrude let go of my hand, and patted my back to follow him. “Go on!”, she whispered.

I walked into the stable, where the witcher and the bard were waiting. “My lady!”, the young man said, and bowed in reverence. “It has been a great honor to perform at this extraordinary event, but unfortunately my friend here insists that we must leave”. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, beaming at me.

“She’s coming with us”, the witcher said; readying his horse – a beautiful red mare.

The bard looked from me to his friend. “She’s… the package?”, he asked in disbelief. “Yes”, the other man answered. “Geralt… are you sure this is a good idea?”; the bard said below his breath. “No”, the witcher grumbled, and looked at me indifferently. “Change”, he said, and threw a satchel on the ground in front of me. I was getting tired of being bossed around. “Why?”, I asked. “Because I said so”. “Go to Hel”, I said. The bard gasped at my words. “Bad-mannered words for a lady!”, he proclaimed. “Go fuck yourself, milksop”, I sneered.

“Geralt!”, the bard cried out. “Shut up, Jaskier. Do you want the whole castle to know what we’re doing?”, the witcher said; and walked towards me, picking up the satchel.

“Put on the clothes in the bag. I’m not asking you again”. I smirked at him defiantly.

He grabbed my arm, and looked at me; dormant rage in his eyes. His hold on me was strong, but not painful. “I will strip you down myself if needed”, he said.

I ripped the satchel from his hands, and went behind a wall to change. Inside the bag was a simple white chemise; and a blue, sleeveless peasant dress, which could lace up in the front, making me able to put it on myself. I reluctantly removed my sgian-dubh from my thigh, and slipped it into my boot.

From behind the wall I hear muffled talking.

“Geralt, this is madness. You can’t drag the future queen of Temeria across the continent on horseback”, the bard – Jaskier – said. “She needs pomp and… spectacle and ceremony; and everything else that goes with the title. Not to mention that she is rude; and will probably get in the way when we are fighting monsters!”. “You don’t fight Jaskier. You moan and whine, and run away at any sign of danger”, the witcher answered. “That’s not the point, Geralt… Geralt… Look at me when I’m talking to you!”. “What are you; my wife?”. “Gods forbid. I’m quite sure I’d be able to make a better match!”. “Well, if you come all the way to Temeria with us, maybe Foltest will choose you in stead of the princess. He does have strange tastes”.

“I’m not a princess!”, I thundered, and stomped out to face them.

The witcher looked at me, clearly about to roar for me to shut up. At the same moment, Thrude stepped in to the stable, carrying a gray cloak.

“Are you all ready to leave then?”, she said, and put the cloak around my shoulders, tying it under my chin. “Yes”, the witcher answered, and climbed onto his horse. “Come”, he said, and reached his hand out to me.

“She gets to ride?”, Jaskier asked woundedly.

I put my hand into the witchers, and he pulled me into the saddle in a swift and strong move; to sit in front of him, my back to his chest. He smelled like fresh dirt; musky herbs and metal.

“Pomp and spectacle, Jaskier”, his voice rumbled behind me. “Hood up, girl”, he demanded, and I did as asked.

I looked at the bard. “The grey stallion”, I said earnestly. “It’s mine. You can bring it as far as the ship”. Thrude smirked, and shook her head at me.

“Witcher; you will take care of her”, she said. A command; not a question. The witcher grunted behind me. “As promised”, he said. Thrude nodded.

With a last look towards my beloved old friend; I kissed the frog still hanging around my neck; and we we’re off.

---

We rode through the night, reaching a small harbor when the moon was at its highest. A fisherman was waiting for us, standing on the dock by an old boat; just large enough to transport all of us, and the witchers horse.

After Jaskier had gotten of the grey stallion, I smacked it’s behind, making it run of into the trees.

“Eist won’t like it when his favorite horse is gone from the stables”, the witcher said. Jaskier looked from him to me with horror on his face. “I’m a dead man!”, he whimpered.

The witcher chuckled silently, and handed me the satchel that had held my “new” dress. “Your name is Zaba. You are an herbalist in training, on your way to Lyria; to learn from your new master there”. I looked at him confused. “Zaba?” “It means frog”, he added, and turned to lead his horse onto the boat.

I frowned, and looked down at my necklace. Frog. Opening the satchel, I found in it some dried herbs, and a small book; filled out with what I recognized to be Thrude’s handwriting. There were recipes for draughts against headaches and simple stomach pains. Most of them I already knew; as Thrude had been diligent in her training of me as a non-vöelve. I had never been able to see the future, or predict next year’s crop; but I did know my way around simple healing of wounds and the occasional childbirth. I’d also managed to avoid pregnancy with the few lovers I’d had.

Along with my herbalist gear, there were fresh undergarments and stockings; and a few copper coins.

The fisherman giving me a hand; I stepped onto the boat; almost forgetting that this might be the last time my feet would be touching Skellige soil. The witchers horse brayed.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Roach. But we’ll be in Attre before you know it.”, the witcher said to it. I looked on in wonder.

“He talks to his horse. You best get used to it”, Jaskier said, stepping onto the boat after me. He didn’t look like he’d forgiven me for making him a horse-thief just yet.

I walked up to the mare, standing on the other side of it than the witcher. “Her name is Roach?”, I asked. “Yes”, he said, not meeting my eyes.

I put my hands on the horse’s muzzle, and blew gently at it; the horse responding in kind. The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Hello, Roach”, I said, and scratched a spot behind its ear. “Thanks for the ride”.

I went to sit at the stern. “Wouldn’t the lady be more comfortable below deck?”, the fisherman asked. “She’ll be fine”, the witcher rumbled in response; and sat down to lean against a barrel.

We set off; the wind in our favor. It wasn’t long before my home islands became dots in the distance behind us.

I might not have a home there anymore, I thought. But no one is going to tell me where I will make a new one!

---

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

[ana-deaky]

London Boy || Joe Mazzello x Ben Hardy

Author’s Note:  Written for @borhapbois for the Bohemian Rhapsody Summer Event 2020.  I loved the prompts that you gave me and I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you like it too :)

Summary: Joe and Ben meets each other via an anonymous app. What turns into a fun conversation, turns into a friendship leads to something else.

Inspired by the song London Boy by Taylor Swift and a few true events.

-

Here we go...

-

I saw the dimples first ....

"You're making me smile", came the reply from Ben as Joe described how gorgeous he looked in the picture the Ben sent. "I wish I could see that.", Joe texted back. "If it weren't for the 5000 miles between us, I'd ask you out right now.", Joe added. "Really?", Ben asked. "Of course.", Joe said. "I could hug you right now.", came Ben's reply. "Same.", Joe replied, "What's your ideal first date?", Joe asked. "Hmmm. A classy meal and then maybe cocktails and an evening walk by the river or something.", Ben said. "Noted.", Joe said. "What's yours?", Ben asked. "Drinks. Dinner and dancing.", Joe replied. "Dancing, really?", Ben asked. "Oh yea. I'm taking you dancing. Probably won't be sober much. And that's probably for our best.", Joe replied. "I can't wait to meet you, Joseph.", replied Ben. "Me too. Hopefully soon.", Joe texted back.

....and then I heard the accent....

The quarantine kept them apart distance-wise, but the both were constantly in touch with each other. Texting, calling and an occasional virtual date until one day during conversation Ben asked, "What if I asked you to be my boyfriend right now?" Ben saw a smile creep on Joe's lips before he took a sip of the coffee. "You should ask me and find out.", Joe replied shrugging his shoulder trying not to smile. "Will you be my boyfriend? I mean it will be long distance for a while and...", Ben said when Joe interrupted, "Yes!" Ben's eyes grew wide, "Yes-yes?", he asked again. "Yes-yes", said Joe nodding vigorously as he gave that toothy grin of his. "We're boyfriends. Oh my god, I can't believe it.", Ben said excitedly. "That needs some getting used to.", Joe said still smiling. "Well get used to it, boyfriend.", Ben said. Joe gave a laugh.

....They say home is where the heart is....

Ben was woken up from his sleep with a series of text notifications, Ben rubbed his eyes and took the phone squinting at the bright light and saw Joe's name on the screen and a series of texts.

And then came a call from Joe and shriek from the other side, "Are you up?". "Clearly.", said Ben rubbing his eyes and asked, "What's got you so excited this morning?" "My tickets got confirmed. I'm coming to London.", Joe said practically squealing. "Oh my god! That's amazing. When are you getting here?", Ben said excitedly. "Friday afternoon. I got the hotel reservations and everything sorted out. And I have you to-", Joe said when Ben interrupted, "Hold on a sec. You booked a hotel room? No. You're not gonna stay in some hotel. No, you are gonna stay right here in my place." "But-", Joe started. "That wasn't a suggestion, babe. You're gonna stay with me and that's the end of it.", Ben said. "Alright I'll cancel my reservation. Happy?", Joe asked. "Very. And send me your flight details. I'll pick you up from the airport.", Ben said, "We're finally seeing each other. Oh my god. It's about time.", he added. "You read my mind. I'm so excited. I'm gonna go pack. Call you later babe.", Joe said and said, "Love ya Benny." "Love you too.", Ben replied and they hung up.

Joe: Ben

Joe: Ben!

Joe: Ben!!

Joe: BEN!!!!!!!

Joe: Benjamin

Joe: Wake up!!

Joe: Wake up wake up wake up wake up!!!

Ben: I'm up now.

****

"Are you sure you got everything?", Ben asked as Joe walked around his house while holding the phone in front of his face. "Yes Ben. I got everything. Stop worrying.", Joe said. "I'm just excited.", Ben said. "You don't say.", Joe said smirking and took a seat on the couch. "When is the cab getting there?", Ben asked. "In a couple minutes.", Joe said. "You have to text me once you have checked in and boarded. And call me or text me when you land.", Ben said. "Ben, you need to calm down. We've been over this. I got this and I'll keep you updated.", Joe said. "It's just-", Ben said. "I know Benny, I am excited too. And again, we'll see in a couple hours. Okay?", Joe told and Ben nodded. "Cab's here.", Joe announced, "Gotta run. Love ya, byee", Joe said and hung up the video call right after Ben said goodbye.

****

Joe collected his luggage and followed the trail of people towards the exit. His excitement and nervousness rising every step on the way. Outside the gate, Joe's eyes searched for his boyfriends and there he was, Ben, scanning everyone going in front of him until Ben's green eyes met Joe's eyes as Joe walked towards the exit to finally unite with his soulmate, his boyfriend. Everything was happening fast, it felt like the world was moving too fast around him . And what seems like eternity passes by the time Joe is in front of Ben and a moment passes before the two of them hug each other. Joe lets out a sigh of relief as the dopamine spikes. The two of them finally pulls away unable to hide their smiles. "Hello boyfriend", Ben says. "Hello yourself", Joe replies. "You know you're grinning like an idiot, right?", Ben said as led the way to his car. "You're one to talk.", Joe replied. Ben opened the car trunk and Joe proceeded to take his luggage when Ben held Joe's hand and told, "Let me." and let go off him. Ben could feel Joe's eyes on him as he put the bags in the car and closed the trunk and turned to face Joe who immediately said, "What a gentleman." with a hand over his chest. "Oh shove it", Ben said and moved around the car to get in as Joe did the same.

Joe: Landed

Ben: I'm right outside the gate

"Ready to go?", Ben said. "Yes.", Joe said putting on his seat belt. "Are you sure you're not forgetting something?", Ben asked as he started driving out of the airport. "I know exactly what you mean. And no, I didn't forget. I'd much rather talk to you, we can always listen to the song later.", Joe asked. "Wow. I am actually moved that you chose to talk to me over listening to 'Somebody To Love', than listening to Queen. You must really love me then.", Ben said. "You're unbelievable. Of course I do love you. More than Queen? Hmm let me think about it. Nope. But you're getting there.", as Joe finished Ben pulled over the car. "I'm just kidding", Joe said. And Ben started driving again. "So how was your flight?", Ben asked. "Oh it was good. Slept for the most part you know to balance the timezone and whatever. So, good.", Joe answered and asked, "What are we doing today?" "I thought we could go out for a drink if you're up for it or we can stay in and order something in.", Ben said. "Drinks it is.", Joe said. "Alright. I know a great place where we can go.", Ben said. "Perfect.", said Joe and started fiddling with the audio system of the car. "I knew you could't hold off for that long.", Ben said chuckling. "It's not my fault that it is a great song. It's a freaking masterpiece. And I know you know that.", Joe said finally clicking the play button on his phone. The car filled with Freddie's vocals as the two of them sang along.

A few singalong's and a drive later, Ben opened the door and carried in Joe's bag, "Welcome to my humble abode. It's not too much but you know that already from our video calls." "Like I said then and I'm saying it again, you've got a lovely home.", Joe said smiling, "Where can I put these away?", Joe said pointing to his bags. "I'll take care of those. After I give you a tour of the house. Come on.", Ben said extending his hand to Joe, which he definitely took and Ben walked around the house showing Joe around everywhere including the small backyard and finally they ended up in Ben's bedroom. "I've left you some towels on the bed. And you know where the bathroom is. I'll be in the living room. You need to freshen up after the flight.", Ben said. "Ookayy", Joe responded and Ben left the room.

A few moments later Joe went out to the living room wearing a khaki pants, white shirt tucked in and a navy blue sweater over the shirt. "Wow don't you look handsome", said Ben taking a look at Joe. "Thank you very much.", Joe replied. "Let's get going", Ben said hopping up from his seat on the couch. "Hold on a minute. You're going out dressed like this?", Joe said pointing at Ben's t-shirt and baggy jeans. "What's wrong with it?", Ben asked. "It's too home-y", Joe said. "Alright I'll change. Be right back.", Ben said and went to his room.

"Joe, could you get the door please? Joe!", Ben shouted from the bedroom as the doorbell kept ringing. "Joe?", shouted as Ben came into living room searching for Joe who was nowhere to be seen and finally opened the door to reveal Joe standing at the doorway smiling with his right hand behind his back. "Whatcha got there buddy?", Ben asked. "Oh this", Joe said bringing his hand to the front which was holding a bunch of red roses, "These. These are for you." "And I thought you weren't a romantic.", Ben said and immediately hugged Joe. "Can we go inside now?", asked Joe. "Why? Are you cold?", asked Ben with a puzzled look straightening Joe's jacket with hands. "Oh no. I think your neighbor is coming to get me for these.", Joe nearly finished the sentence and Ben pulled Joe inside the house. "I'm gonna put these in some water", Ben said taking the flowers and walked towards the kitchen getting the clear vase on the counter and filled the vase and said, "So my "home-y clothes" were an excuse for you to slip out, huh?" "Oh no. I actually meant it. Those baggy jeans didn't do any justice those thighs.", Joe said gesturing hands to Ben's thighs. "Shut it. You're embarrassing me.", Ben said his cheeks reddening. "What?? I'm just stating the obvious.", Joe said, "And as your boyfriend, I am allowed to talk about your thighs." "Thank you my darling.", Ben said face still red. "You're welcome. Can we go?", Joe asked. "Yea let's go.", Ben said and got the keys to the house.

The bar was right around the corner, so the boys decided to enjoy the London weather which was quite chilly but not too cold for them to walk. Ben, usually being the shy one, was talking non-stop about his neighborhood, Joe smiled and quietly listened to Ben's accent (which is to die for).

For a Friday evening, the bar was not too crowded, the boys took a step inside, Joe looked around to see a couple on stage performing "Purple Rain" . "Oh man! We're late. We're supposed to be singing that.", Joe said. "Oh no we're not singing. I'm terrible at it.", Ben said as the two walked towards any empty table. "Who's spreading these lies? Have you heard yourself sing? Because I have.", Joe said a taking his seat. "Wh-when did I sing? I don't remember.", Ben said. "Remember one night when, I told you to hold the call one day when I went to lock the front door. You were singing while holding.", Joe said and sang imitating Ben, "This thing called love" "I didn't know you heard that.", Ben said. "Oh baby, I always listen.", Joe said right before the waitress came over, "What can I get you guys?", the girl said making eyes at both Ben and Joe. "I'll have a scotch on the rocks", Ben said. "And we'll four tequila shots each with lime.", Joe said for which Ben gave an impressive sort of expression and said, "The fish and chips they have here is to die for. We're gonna have two of those too.", Ben said and smiled at the girl who was taking the order. "Alright.", she said and left. "Are you trying to get me drunk?", Ben asked. "No babe. I wouldn't dream of it." and the waitress came back with the drinks, "Enjoy", she said. Joe raised a shot glass and Ben mirrored the action, "To our first date", said Joe and Ben repeated, "To us." and they took the shot. And so it began.

Five shots and a meal later, Joe banging on the table, "So you are saying you have never ever ever ever done it? It's impossible. You must have done it at least once.", Joe said. "No not even once.", Ben said. "Well then you are now.", Joe said and stood up, "Come on." "Where to?", Ben asked. "We're going to rectify the situation right now.", Joe said. "Hold on.", Ben said and chugged on the leftover Scotch and let out a growl, "Let's do this." "Woo", Joe said loudly. The both walked to nearer to the small stage on the other side of the bar. "Mr. Karaoke Man", Joe said and Ben started laughing attracting the attention of the guy who was sitting behind a laptop casually jamming to the music in the bar. "See my boyfriend here", Joe said pointing both his thumb to Ben, "Never did a karaoke EVER." "Never ever ever", added a drunk Ben from the side. "Could you play..", Joe snapped out of the sentence, "Wait what would we sing?", Joe said blinking at Ben. "We'll ask Karaoke Man.", Ben said and Joe turned to the young man. "How about 'Bohemian Rhapsody'?", the guy asked. And Ben said a series of loud "yes'" and practically leaped onto the stage and almost tripped, "I'm okay", said Ben into the mic which he was given just then. Just then the karaoke started playing.

A roar of applause and cheers concluded the singing. "Benny boy", Joe said. "Joey", Ben replied. "If I could sing a song for you now, do you know which one I'd sing for you?", Joe said sinking into the chair. "Which one?", Ben said. "LIAR!", Joe said causing Ben to raise his eyebrows, "What you said you don't sing and you just gave a Grammy worthy performance. You know what, if Queen ever decide to do a biopic we should audition.", Joe said clapping and took his glass of whiskey. "First of all, you're drunk", Ben said taking Joe's glass away causing Joe to whine. "Second, I'm taking you home. Because you're wasted." "And you aren't.", Joe said. "You had too much. Come on off we go.", Ben said getting up and giving Joe a hand. Joe gets up and puts an arm over Ben's shoulder. "Wow you're pumped. Jeez!", Joe said squeezing Ben's bicep. "Ohh stop it.", Ben said walking towards the bar. "Ooh I'm paying.", Joe said. "You can't even stand", Ben said. "I'm good, I can stand. Joe's a big boy.", Joe said. "Okay big boy.", Ben said and Joe almost fell onto the counter, "Whoa!", Joe said holding onto the counter's edge and took out his wallet and gave a card, "Here you go". "Sir, this is an ID card.", the girl said. "Oops", Joe said putting back his card and gave another. "You're wasted.", Ben said. "No I'm not.", Joe said. "Or so you say.", Ben said, "Let's get going." Ben put an arm over Joe so that Joe could walk properly. "Next time, I'm ordering the drinks.", Ben said walking out the door.

The boys were walking down the street towards Ben's block when there was a crowd gathered right around the corner and music filling the cold air of the night. As they were almost going to pass the street when Joe stood right there next to the crowd. "Oh come on. Let's get those moves out", Joe said and started dancing. "Oh this is too good.", Ben said taking out his phone and started filming Joe dance around him. Few people from the crowd joined in on the dancing, making it more lively when Joe pulled on Ben's hand, "Come on. Loosen up baby!" and pulled Ben into the group.

A song later, the boys were back to walking back home with Joe still hanging onto his boyfriend's shoulder, walking zig-zag on the sidewalk. "Have I told you that I worked on a movie called 'Dear Sidewalk'?", Joe said rather loudly. "You might've mentioned it once.", Ben said, "We're here. Home sweet home." walking towards the doorway. "Can you stand?", Ben asked leaning Joe, who was half sleep and mostly still drunk, on the wall. Joe nodded and hummed, "Mm-hm" while Ben fished out the house keys from his pocket and struggled to unlock the door under the dim porch light. Joe kept mumbling something inaudibly while Ben was unlocking the door. Once Ben opened the door, Ben walked Joe inside the house and locked the front door.

"Let's get you ready for bed now, shall we?", Ben said. Joe spoke with a sudden energy, "Now we talking." Ben rolled his eyes and said, "Oh my god. Just sit down on the bed." Joe sat down as he was told and Ben knelt at his foot to remove Joe's shoes followed by his socks and threw them to the side. He stood up and leaned over to pull Joe's sweater over his head after clearing Joe's pockets and put the sweater on the chair beside. "Do you wanna keep your shirt on?", Ben asked. Joe shook his head sleepily and Ben started unbuttoning Joe's shirt, "Not how I thought this would go", Joe mumbled as Ben took the shirt off and threw it along with the sweater. "Okay I'll be right back." Joe just nodded sleepily.

When Ben reemerged to his room, he saw Joe sleeping on one side of his bed. Ben slid under the covers and wrapped his arms around Joe spooning Joe and Joe said, "I love you", putting his hand over Ben's and Ben whispered to Joe's ears, "I love you too."

.....But that's not where mine lives ❤️

-

Tags: @thosequeenboys @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @brinteylovesaliens @mazzell-ro @amethyst-serenade @hardzelloqueen @stewielover95​ @captaincoffeegirl515​ @detectivecutiepantsandhisbabyfox​ @hellysthings​

If you wanna be in the tags or be removed from it, DM me.

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 507

OK QUICK QUESTION, OUTLANDER WRITERS, IF YOU’VE STILL BEEN CAPABLE OF MAKING EPISODES THIS GOOD THEN HOW THE FUCK DO YOU JUSTIFY MAKING *GESTURES AT THE LAST FEW SEASONS* ALL THAT SHIT?!

This is literally the first episode of Outlander in fucking *years* that I have liked and actually meant it. Like, I *wanted* to watch it again. I cannot remember the last time I’ve wanted to rewatch an episode rather than it feeling like “fandom homework.”

Their track record over the last few years has me worried this was a fluke. And they just accidentally did a good job, and we’ll be back to mediocrity next week. But...y’all. What if the show actually gets good again? You know, that thing we’ve been hoping would happen for 84 fucking years...

*attempts to keep expectations in check while simultaneously being excited to actually have positive feelings toward the show again*

(Now can we have a Claire-centric episode that isn’t about rape and/or the usual ye olde times violence against women?)

Nudity AND sexual content warnings at the start? It’s a quarantine miracle!

Am I the only one who isn’t so much a fan of the voiceovers?

Opening with Roger singing, and the title, made me rull skeptical of how much I’d like this episode. Glad he was just the B plot.

*mentally prepares for next week, because ugh, fuck that guy*

At least we won’t have singalongs anymore? *runs away*

The shots of the camp and stuff reminded me again how glad I am that this season feels much less claustrophobic overall than last year.

JAMIE IS HAVING A SUPER SOFT BIRTHDAY PARTY!

LOOKIT THESE SOFT AF FRASERS!

MY BABIES ARE SO ADORABLE AND CUDDLY AND KISSY AND SNUGGLY AND MAKING DICK JOKES!

Move over Marilyn. I have a new favorite version of Happy Birthday.

Now quick, sing it a second time. I need a very sexy hand washing timer.

Ok but two of the English soldiers have the same last names as two people I work with but don’t particularly like. Eeeep.

99 yellow cockades on the wall, 99 yellow cockades. Take one down pass it around, 99 yellow cockades on the wall!

Update, I’m still not interested in the Browns or Isiah. But I guess if they’re gonna do what they’re probs gonna do next year, they have to make the Browns’ beef with Jamie a bigger thing than one episode... Le sigh.

Omfg the scene with the Findlay boys. They’re so young! Jamie’s giving them advice! They’re gonna follow the advice! And it’s gonna be tragic af! Literally perfect choice, tbh.

Tryon is such a condescending douchecanoe. Just going full Javert here.

Why the fuck is Bree in Hillsborough, though? Besides, needing to be conveniently there for Plotty McPlotterson reasons.

The more they say Alamance, the more all I can think of is Salamence. Which is fitting considering what happens to fellow ‘mon Roger MacSeedot at the end of the episode.

A+ choice moving Jamie calling on Dougal to here rather than before the flaming dildo.

Especially given a certain piece of stunt casting...

“My professor said that some people consider this to be the spark of the American Revolution.” *stares in Boston*

“Ye say some people believe this is the spark. Couldn't the spark alight from somewhere else?” “Yes, it could. You know, in Boston. Where you grew up. Your professor in Cambridge can shove it.”

If Harvard wasn’t closed because of the ‘rona, I’d march down there and give that fictional professor from decades ago a piece of my mind.

They’re really putting a lot of faith in a fucking handkerchief. Don’t see how that could go wrong.

“Now go. Be ready for the morrow.” And then all the Regulators sit down around their fires and sing Drink with Me.

Yes, I’m still on the “this season is Les Mis fanfic” train.

Ok but Murtz was ready to die at Culloden for a cause he believed in *with* Jamie and now, after hearing what Roger has to say, he’s ready to die here for a cause he believes in *against* Jamie* AND I AM FULL OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT.

*yes, I know that Jamie’s not 100% into it and definitely isn’t actually on the side of Murtz’s enemy.

“You have farmers, with knives and pitchforks.” *queues up Turning*

How fucking far away was this creek though that it took all fucking night to get there? Now is not the time for a sleepover party, Roger.

PERSONAL SPACE BUBBLE, ROGER, PERSONAL SPACE BUBBLE!

At least he doesn’t fucking kiss her, but you are *such* a dumbass, Roger.

LOL @ DOUGAL 2.0

They do love them some stunt casting on this show, don’t they.

Ok but making Jamie wear a red coat is a great fucking choice. And I know I shit on Heughan a lot, but his face as Jamie puts it on shows literally every emotion and his entire history with the men who wear those coats without saying a word.

Ok but since they cast Graham McTavish as a bit of a joke, does this mean we aren’t going to be subjected to Roger and Buck’s adventures through time? Because omfg I hate that shit so much. I mean, it’d be on brand for the show to make us watch an abusive husband gallivant around as a buddy of one of the leads, but it wouldn’t be a good look.

Buck!Dougal must have one of the previous season’s wigs. Because what is that dead thing on his head, haha.

Ditto what I said about Heughan re: Caitriona’s face when she see’s Jamie in the coat.

I AM STILL TRASH FOR THE SOLDIER THING.

Also, this is a good example of book shit worked in. Not awkwardly shoehorned in like they usually do.

Kinda bummed that Nurse Marsali is out of action, but get why Bree’s there. Whatevs. Can we get more Nurse Marsali soon?

The Browns are super obvious about trying to kill the person they’ve told everyone they want to kill.

Also like fuck the Browns for breaking her magic needle, but Claire, girl, keep a better grip on that shit.

THE MOURNFUL VERSION OF THE JE SUIS PREST/PRESTONPANS MUSIC IS PUNCHING ME IN THE FEELS.

FUCK THE ENGLISH, TBH. THEN AND NOW.

Also, why the fuck didn’t JAMMF ditch the coat as soon as they went into the woods? Not the smartest idea to run around in a bright fucking target, buddy.

OMG IT’S SO PERFECT THAT ONE OF THE FINDLAY’S DID IT. War is awful. War is random. And having a fucking pretty much child following the advice of his commanding officer, thinking he’s protecting his Colonel, be the one to kill Murtz is just the most perfectly tragic choice.

“Dinna be afraid... It doesn’t hurt a bit to die.” *sobs in Voyager*

I love that it’s Jamie’s men, who are ostensibly fighting for the English, are the ones who help him with Murtagh. Because, after all, they’re loyal to their chief and new clan, not the crown.

OMG ALL OF THEIR FACES THOUGH! JAMIE WITH THE GRIEF AND DENIAL AND ANGER AND BARGAINING! CLAIRE WITH THE GRIEF AND ACCEPTANCE! BREE WITH THE GRIEF AND DEPRESSION!

(Maybe not depression with Bree, I was just trying to fit in all five stages of grief.)

I’m obviously super sad to be losing Murtz, but this does feel like a good way to end his arc. With the added bonus of putting Jamie on the path to join the Revolution in a few years.

I’M JUST GONNA MISS THAT CROTCHETY FUCKER SO MUCH, OK! *drinks wine straight from the bottle*

Jamie ripping Tryon a new one is...not smart. But it’s what we all wish we could yell at the fuckwad. So carry on, JAMMF.

He’s being very Beauchamp-esque with this rant.

“I’ve paid my debt... and I’m finished with my obligation to you and to the crown.” Is that how that works though?

“You may have your coat back, sir.” A Mood™

I’m glad Claire kept his little scrap of plaid.

Ngl, I loved the Claire and Murtz relationship more than the Jamie and Murtz one. I am very sad for Claire.

Oh man, they are trickily ending on a high note*. We may have lost Murtz, but at least we’re rid of Roger!

*YMMV, don’t @ me.

But alas, next episode starts the saga of Emo!Roger. You can tell he’s gonna be alive because they show his one hand slipped from the handcuff rope and up at his neck rope.

We’ll deal with that next time. For this week, I’m just so fucking glad I’m still able to love this show and feel actually feelings while watching it.

I’ve missed that. So fucking much.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (112/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[2 March, 233 Before Age.   Nagaoka.]

"Now, let us all give thanks to our leaders."

"Thank you, Trismegistus.  Blessed by the world that was; blessed by the world that is; blessed by the world yet to come."

Initiates into the Jindan Cult were required to complete a intensive orientation course.  It lasted sixteen straight days, with each class lasting sixteen hours.  This had something to do with the number of protons in a sulfur atom, but Lesseri had forgotten this point after the first day.  She was now on Hour Eleven of Day Nine.

Deprivation was part of the coursework.  A Saiyan had to demonstrate her purity and worthiness to receive the Jindan power.  One way of establishing this was to live on low-calorie diets.  Another was to undergo a ki assay with one of the priests.  They would examine the subject and determine ways to purify a person's energy.  The assay took at least three hours to complete, and so this cut into time the initiate could spend on sleep.  Lesseri had undergone several assays recently, because she had been struggling to keep up with the lessons of the First Crucible.      She figured she had averaged about two hours of sleep each night, but it was worth it.  One of her classmates had gotten bad marks, and he had been required to start over from the beginning.  But Lesseri was still hanging in there.  She was tired, but strangely enthusiastic.    In spite of the hunger and exhaustion, she would pass this stage and progress to the next level.  All she had to do was follow the directions, step by step, and the power would be hers.

On the first day, thanking a portrait of Trismegistus had seemed like a waste of time.  Now, she found these moments a welcome diversion from the rigors of study.  It was a chance to explore her gratitude, and to reflect upon the progress she had made.  When they went around the room to thank Trismegistus individually, Lesseri knew exactly what to say.

"Thank you for your spiritual assays," she said when it was her turn.

"I had a feeling you might say that," said the priest who was overseeing the day's lessons.   He had performed some of her assays as well, and he gave her a knowing smile.

They all shared a friendly laugh, and Lesseri smiled back at him.  "It's helped a lot," she said.  "The old Lesseri never would have made it this far on so little sleep."

"You've all grown so much," the priest said.  "I know that some of you have had to repeat the Crucible from the beginning.  It took me thirty-five days to complete it myself.  There is no shame in it."

The priest had said this many times.  Shame was a temporary condition, a price to be paid in exchange for proud nobility.  One of the many exercises in the Crucible involved transmuting base metal into gold.  Lesseri would sit before a pot and focus her ki on a lump of lead inside.  Normally, it was impossible to transform matter in this way.  Even the  alchemical masters, skilled in the ways of transmutation, would consider this supremely difficult, if not impossible.  But Trismegistus knew better.  Lead was cheap and toxic and shameful, but it could be changed into something valuable, beautiful, and perfect.  And once it was had become gold, would anyone care that it had once been something less?  The shame of having been lead was one of the essential ingredients in the process of its refinement.  The old Lesseri was like the lump of lead.  Trismegistus would make her into a better, stronger Lesseri of gold, but only through an arduous process.  When it was complete, the hardship and indignities she now suffered would be irrelevant.

And so, for the next hour, Lesseri concentrated and applied her power on the metal.  The best she could manage was to melt it.  She had the power to vaporize the lead, but the cavern where she studied was poorly ventilated, and the fumes would be very toxic.  Lesseri found molten lead to be very disappointing.    It melted at such a low temperature that it didn't even glow red or yellow before it turned into an ugly stew of grey.  At least iron would look like gold when it was hot enough.

This principle, the priests taught, was why the "Super Saiyan" transformation used by Luffa was heretical.  If Luffa's power had been legitimate, a means of attaining true nobility, then she would remain in that form permanently.  The fact that she constantly shifted back and forth was proof that she was a mere trickster.  Whatever Luffa's power was, the priests taught that it was unearned.  Luffa had not been transformed in the proper way.  Hers was a fool's gold.  Aurifiction instead of aurifaction.

This teaching was immensely satisfying to Lesseri.  She had long resented Luffa's power, but envied it as well.  Now the truth behind that contradiction was clear.  The old, ignoble Lesseri was easily impressed, but she had still instinctively recognized Luffa as a fraud.

"Remember," the priest said as he walked around the room.  "A piece of lead may admire iron, but that does not make iron noble.  Within lead is the fundamental essence of all matter.  Through that, lead knows what it means to be gold, even without ever becoming such.  This yearning is how you can coax lead to become gold."

Lesseri appreciated these words, although they brought her no closer to her goal.  Her pot was no closer to transmuting now than when she had started.  None of her classmates had fared any better.

"Bah!" cried the man at the benchtop beside her.  "This is a waste of time!  I came here to get stronger, not to play with solder!"

Lesseri ignored him, even when he tossed his pot onto the floor, spilling molten lead onto the ground.

"You only waste time with your outbursts, Brother Leik," the priest said.  "If you want to complete the Crucible, you must pass the Crucible.  The ore that shuns the flame will never be refined."

The man was on his third day, at least as far as Lesseri knew.    She shared his frustrations, but she also knew there was no point in expressing them.  The Crucible had to be endured, not resisted.

"What is there to pass?!" Leik growled.  "You have a potion that will make us stronger, so what does that have to do with making us stare at pots and leading us in singalongs?!"

"Leik, you were warned before..." the priest said, but Leik had run out of patience.

"You won't even tell me what you did with my nephew!" he shouted.  "Everyone just says he 'wasn't worthy'.  Why?  Because his mother and grandmother were aliens?  He's stronger than most full-blooded Saiyans I know!"

"Aliens have no place on this world," one of the other students said.  "Trismegistus has no use for dross.  Your nephew is dead, so stop wasting our time worrying about him!"

"Demotion," the priest finally said.  "Both of you."

A chill ran down Lesseri's spine, and she suspected that the rest of the class had the same reaction to that word.  The Crucible was no place for defiance, or for speaking out of turn.  The priests encouraged open discussion, but only when that discussion was productive.    Push them too far, and you would be required to repeat the Crucible from the beginning.

Leik was furious, but he couldn't do anything about it.  Like the rest of the class, he hadn't received the Jindan power, so he was no match for the priests, who already possessed it.  A pair of red-uniformed attendants escorted him out of the room.  Then they returned for the other man.

"But... but I spoke against his outburst!" he protested.

Lesseri might have snorted with contempt for his foolishness, but she didn't want to draw any attention on herself, the way he had done.  The priests hardly needed his help to deal with unruly students.  What could lead offer gold?

They took him away, presumably to join Leik.  Lesseri had no idea what they did to demoted students before making them start over on the Crucible.  She had made it her business to never find out.  Sixteen days was plenty.

And sixteen days worked.  As grueling as it was, Lesseri knew it would be worth it.  The priests had the power, and that was proof enough.  So why punish yourself by making it take longer than absolutely necessary?  Lesseri had spent longer than this training with Luffa, and had gotten nowhere.  Luffa's lessons had been an utter waste, and now she understood why.  How could fraudulent iron teach lead to become gold?

Lesseri understood Leik's sentiments.  She too had come to this planet with an alien.  Treekul had provided the geomantic and alchemical research that had allowed Lesseri to find this place, but they were soon separated.  Lesseri assumed Treekul had been executed.  There was no good reason for her to stay, and she knew too much to be allowed to escape, and so what other option remained?    But there was no point in discussing it.  Asking wouldn't change Treekul's fate, but it could make Lesseri's path more difficult.

And so she focused on the pot of molten lead in front of her, and struggled to imagine some way to will it into gold.

*******

[7 March, 233 Before Age.  Nagaoka.]

On the fourteenth day of the Crucible, Lesseri believed she would fail.  Her pot of lead remained a pot of lead.  The other students had done no better, but Lesseri wasn't worried about them.

Years ago, she had joined a group of Saiyans under the tutelage of Luffa.  The cult had branded Luffa a heretic, and so Lesseri was very careful to a avoid discussing those days.  She had only gotten mixed up with that group in order to kill her own mother.  If Luffa had taught them anything useful during that time, Lesseri might have taken it to heart.  As it was, Lesseri had walked out on them, staying only long enough to make certain her mother was declared dead.

But the cult might not see it that way.  The longer she studied their ways, the more she worried about it.  The priest teaching them today was a thin Saiyan with pale pink skin and a unibrow.  He gave loud, thunderous sermons to the group, speaking of the glories of purity, and the utter destruction of anything tainted by the unholy.  The other students seemed galvanized by his words, but Lesseri wondered how he would react if he knew she had met Luffa face to face, and even sparred with her.

Her only saving grace was that the cult only knew what she had told them, and possibly whatever she had shared with Endive and Guwar.  She hadn't seen either of then since their initiation.  For all she knew they had failed the Crucible and met the same fate as Treekul.  In any case, Lesseri hadn't told either of them that much about her time with Luffa.

It was Treekul that made her worry.  The four of them had come to this planet together, but when Lesseri first began her quest, it was just Lesseri and Treekul.  With no one else to talk to in those days, she had said more than she probably should have.

One of Lesseri's schemes had involved disguising Endive as Luffa to trick certain parties into giving up useful information.  To complete the disguise, she convinced Treekul to dress up as Luffa wife, a blue-skinned, red-haired alien whose name Lesseri had long forgotten.  Most people didn't know that much about Luffa's personal life, so Lesseri had believed it would make Endive's act more convincing.

"How do you know so much about this lady anyway?" Treekul had asked.

"We all lived together on Nat-Chezz II for a while,"  Lesseri had told her.  "The blue lady would hide in the jungle and we had to hunt her down as an exercise."

There were other anecdotes, things that Lesseri had shared with Treekul but not with the cult to which she had pledged her immortal soul.  At first, she hadn't given it a second thought.  Treekul was probably dead by now, and she had no reason to tell them of such things, even if they did interrogate her before her execution.

But fourteen days in the Crucible had taken a mental toll on Lesseri.  The priests had been very cordial and helpful at first, but over time they expected more and more from her, and the disapproving looks they made were impossible to ignore.  Even when they praised her, she sensed an unspoken "but you could have done better."

In the short hours when she should have been sleeping, Lesseri had tossed and turned, racking her brain for something to explain her fears, and then she realized that Treekul was the only explanation.  She had never seen the alien die.  The priests must have questioned Treekul, and learned something about Lesseri's time with Luffa.  They didn't say anything to Lesseri because they were waiting for her to confess it herself.

But she couldn't do that.  If they didn't know, if Treekul had told them nothing, then telling them would be a terrible mistake.  They would punish her, make her repeat the Crucible, or perhaps worse.  

But if they already knew, then lying to them would be an even more terrible mistake.

But if they didn't know, and she told them now, they would ask why she hadn't said anything before.  

But if she could only turn the lead into gold, then none of it would matter.    They would recognize her mastery of the lessons, and her other failings would be forgiven.  

But she couldn't turn the lead into gold.   None of the students could.  Lesseri began to suspect that the point of the exercise was to recognize the futility of the attempt.  The ones who cracked under the pressure to perform were demoted and required to repeat the Crucible from the beginning.  

But Lesseri couldn't endure that.  She was too tired, too hungry, and too frightened to contemplate another sixteen days of this hell.  She had to hold on, and hope that everything would work out if she just held out a little longer.  That was what the other students were doing.  

But none of them harbored a secret like hers.    

Silently, she begged the lump of metal in her pot to suddenly become gold.   It was a stupid thought, but it would solve everything.  It would prove that she was worthy, and nothing else would matter.   Her past, her secrets, her lies, it would all be forgotten.  

But the lead would not cooperate, no matter how badly she wanted it to.  

And then, just as she was about to lose all patience, and throw the pot to the ground and scream at the top of her lungs, the priest rang a small chime, signifying the end of the day's session.   After a brief farewell, they were dismissed.   Lesseri rose from her seat and wandered out of the room in a daze.   The thing she was feeling wasn't exactly relief, for she knew she would face the same turmoil again tomorrow.   But at least she could rest and eat.   There had to be some way for her to ride out these last two days...

"Lesseri, could I speak to you for a moment?"

She turned and saw one of the priests, and forced herself to some semblance of composure.  

"I'm giving instructions to one of the new priests," he explained.   "You've been through the assay several times, and I thought you would make a good subject for a demonstration of the process."

"Of course," Lesseri said, her voice somewhat weaker and more reluctant than she wanted it to sound.   "Whenever you're ready."

"Splendid," he said.  "You know, you're making remarkable progress, Lesseri."

The compliment might have lifted her spirits, until she happened to notice someone out of the corner of her eye, walking along the corridor.   She was clad in the red robes of the priesthood, but her skin was lavender, and her hair was a thin layer of green stubble on her scalp.  But it was only for a moment, and then she was gone, and Lesseri had to wonder if she had imagined it somehow.  

"Is something wrong, Lesseri?" the priest asked.  

"No, sir," Lesseri finally said.  "Nothing at all."

*******

[9 March, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

Day Sixteen of the Crucible.   Lesseri felt like she was about to die.    The contents of her pot had not changed.   Earlier in the day, one of the other students had gone into hysterics, and began raving about how he had "done it", and insisted that his lead had become gold, even though it had not.   Whether he was lying or hallucinating, Lesseri couldn't tell.    She was no longer interested in the fate of the others, or whether she could transmute metals.   Her only focus was on making it through the rest of the day without behind demoted.  

She had not seen Treekul since that moment in the corridor, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it had been real.   That made no sense.   Aliens were unworthy.    Only Saiyans could be priests.  Unless Treekul had proven herself useful somehow.   And the only way Lesseri could think of was by revealing the lies and secrets of one of their initiates.  

No!  It couldn't be like that.  If they already knew the truth, then why had they not pulled Lesseri out of the Crucible already?   Why bother letting her finish the course?

Unless the Crucible was considered a fitting punishment for her.   It certainly didn't feel like a reward.   What better torment than to make her endure the entire trial, only to deny her at the very end?  

No.   Lesseri bit her lower lip until she could feel it bleeding.   She had to beat back these waves of paranoia.   This was the only way to receive the Jindan power, and she would not repeat this ordeal, no matter what.    It was all a test of her obedience, like she had said from the beginning.   Just do as you're told, and the rest would take care of itself.   That was all she had to worry about.   It had to be.   It just had to.

And then two more of the priests entered the room.   Lesseri ignored them until she heard one of them speak, and she recognized Treekul's voice.  

"You probably wouldn't even recognize Lesseri after all this time," one of them said to her.   "She's made remarkable progress."

"Yes, of course," Treekul said.  

Lesseri tried to focus on her work, but couldn't help looking up when Treekul approached.   Her blood ran cold when she finally saw her.  It was definitely Treekul.    Her green buzz cut and lavendar skin were conspicuous enough in the outside universe, but here, among an all-Saiyan population, they stood out even more.   Her garments were more revealing than most, but the style made it clear that she was one of the priestesses.

She couldn't stand this any longer.   Had Treekul told them already?   What was she even doing here?   How did this make any sense?   And then, just as she was about to ask, one of the other students beat her to it.  

"Sir, how is an alien allowed to serve in the priesthood?   I thought only Saiyans were worthy."

Treekul and Lesseri looked at each other while the student waited for his answer.  

"Trismegistus has assayed Sister Treekul," the priest explained.   "And he has made her worthy."

"That's impossible!" protested one of the other students.  

"Is it?" the priest asked.  "You've all been working on those pots for several days now, haven't you?   Has any of you managed to make so much as a sliver of gold?    Anyone at all?   No?   Why do you suppose that is?"

There was a tension behind Lesseri's eyes, and the back of her head felt like the molten lump of metal in her pot.    She felt a shame that she couldn't begin to describe.   She was sure that if she could answer the priest's question, then it would make up for her other failings, in some small way.    And yet she was at a loss.   She couldn't even explain her own failure.   And there was Treekul, a living monument to her imperfection...

"Well, of course they can't do it.    They don't know how," Treekul said, answering for the class.   "Even experienced alchemists struggle to pull off that sort of thing.  So why are you having these initiates try it?   You didn't even give them any reagents or equipment."

Lesseri looked up from her pot.   Was this true?   Had the entire exercise been a complete waste of time?

"We make the initiates perform the impossible," the priest explained, "precisely because it's impossible... for them.   And as they realize the depths of their failure, they must also reflect upon this truth: Our master, Trismegistus, can turn lead into gold.  His power can do what the rest of us call 'impossible'.   That is why we follow him.   Not just because he is our leader, or because of his 'power'.   We follow him because he is holy.   Miraculous.   Without him, the lead is unchanged.  But with his triple blessing, he can turn it into gold.   He can turn make the weak into the strong.   And he can even transmute the alien into the disciple.  Truly, the thrice-blessed is a..."

He suddenly paused his sermon and looked toward the class.   "Excuse me, Lesseri," he said,  "are you crying?"

The entire classroom was astounded by the teachings, but Lesseri was completely awestruck.   It had been an epiphany to her.   Treekul, her own imperfections, the Crucible, and everything else she had worried about, they were all wet clay to be molded by Trismegistus.   None of it mattered.    The crucible, demotion, the assays, Treekul wearing priestly garments, Lesseri's former association with the Super Saiyan.    None of it mattered in the end, because it could all be shaped and reshaped to suit his grand design.    All Lesseri needed to do was to submit and let herself be transformed.  

"I'm all right," she sobbed.   "It's just so... liberating..."

NEXT: Xibuyas waits.

[utanoprincesamascenarios]

I'm not sure if requests are open, the description says they are but it could be a mistake. If they are could I request Starish reactions with a scaredy cat s/o. It's the season of spookiness and I'm not taking it well.

Otoya

Being a bit of a scaredy cat himself, Otoya understands how his s/o feels during Halloween especially.

He tries to be brave for them, and he’ll always assure them that none of the pranks are real, and that although the decorations look real, they’re just pretend, and that it’s all in good fun and in a few days everything will be back to normal.

When his s/o clings to him when something especially spooky crosses their path, he feels a tiny bit of pride that he’s the one they go to when they’re scared. Of course, it gets to Otoya too, and he returns the bear hug right away.

When everyone else wants to watch a scary movie, Otoya arranges his own movie date with his s/o to keep their mind off things. They have a cuddly movie date with comedies, and they just laugh when they hear their friends screaming in the videos that somehow made their way on social media.

Masato

Masato vows to keep any and all scary things out of his s/o’s sight. If the decorations in the dorms get out of hand, he’ll sneakily tear down the more gruesome ones. If something is hidden away, waiting to be found, he’ll disarm the trap before his s/o can even get close.

He doesn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun, though, so he’ll hold his s/o’s hand whenever they need him to, and he’ll lead them to the less scary decorations so they can have a bit of holiday fun too. There’s plenty of shops to admire that utilize the colors of fall instead, and they’re just as fun to check out.

They’ll do a lot of Halloween activities that are completely innocent, like carving pumpkins and thinking of a cute couple costume, that Masato will make for them, of course. Masato will also bake Halloween treats with them and hand them out to everyone early on Halloween.

If something really scares them, Masato will hold them close and whisper they’ll be alright in their ear, and he won’t let anything happen to them. They’ll be safe as long as they’re in his arms, and that’s just the thing that his s/o wants to hear.

Natsuki

Even though his initial reaction to his s/o’s scared reactions is that they’re just the cutest things he’s ever seen, he’ll quickly change his mindset and promise he’ll bring a smile back to their face, since that’s when they’re actually the cutest.

Natsuki knows all the shops in town that have cute Halloween decorations, the ones with the cutest stuffed animals, and the ones with the best tasting Halloween-themed desserts. His s/o would be so overloaded with all the cute parts of Halloween they’ll forget there’s anything scary out there in the first place.

He’ll buy them a cute costume to wear on the actual holiday, and he’ll stay in with them and give candy to all the Trick-or-Treaters. Kids are too adorable to be really scary, so they’ll have a great time watching all the costumes pass by. Everyone is so creative this year, Natsuki is already planning the next costumes for them to wear next time.

Natsuki is a pretty big guy, so he promises that he’ll be his s/o’s personal bodyguard any time they feel like they need some extra protection during the spooky season. He’ll pick them up and carry them in his arms, claiming that he’s too tall for any vampires or werewolves to get him. Ghosts might be a bit trickier to take care of, but he says he’ll ask them nicely to leave his s/o alone. He’s got them covered no matter what kind of monster may appear.

Tokiya

Tokiya, being the logical guy he is, really doesn’t understand what is so terrifying about Halloween, but he makes an effort to see things from his s/o’s point of view. Fake blood was more cheesy than anything, and although special effects in movies were getting better, they were still pretty easy to spot, but he supposed that too much of this stuff could wear away at someone.

His s/o gets a little more clingy, and he takes it in stride. He’ll talk about the origins of certain monsters and movie characters, and somehow hearing these things explained in the most matter-of-fact way possible really detracts from the scare factor. Tokiya rattling on about the figures in the horror genre is actually pretty soothing, and they’ll end up falling asleep more often than not to the sound of his voice on those nights they were too scared to sleep.

Also: “I was a big wolf in one of my stage plays, and I wasn’t so scary then, was I?”

Tokiya isn’t the biggest fans of Halloween parties to begin with, so he has no problem staying inside when the rest of Starish goes out to scare themselves silly. But in the off chance they do want to go out, he’ll stay by their side and talk with them most of the night. If anyone tries to pull pranks on them, he’ll quickly shut them down and give them a look that will guarantee they won’t try it again.

There’s plenty of stuff to focus on that isn’t scary that can improve their view on Halloween. He’ll tell them to focus on black kittens, jack-o-lanterns, candy, hiding under a blanket with hot cider… which he suggests they do, because that’s one of the best parts of fall.

Ren

Ren loved that his s/o was a little scaredy cat. The fact that they were practically always hanging from him was absolutely amazing, and he loved that he was who they turned to when their fears were acting up. And of course, he always told them that they can latch on as long as they needed to. He’ll hug them and give them kisses and picks them up and smother them with affection to distract them from any terrors.

Ego boost aside, he’s genuinely very attentive to his s/o when they’re upset. He knows when to remove them from a situation that’s a bit too much for them, and he’ll stick with them as long as he needs to in order to calm them down. Sometimes he’ll take them on a drive just to get them to focus on something else.

Ren’s favorite part of Halloween by far is the costumes, so he sees this as a great way to bring a little positivity to the night. He’ll tease that they could always dress up as a ‘sexy’ version of something, or they could always go the route of dressing up as elegant vampires that would surely gain the attention of everyone that saw them. How could they be scared when they’re too busy stealing the show?

In the true spirit of things, Ren thinks of a cute nickname for his s/o just for Halloween. Perhaps they’re his black kitten, or they could be his little devil… the possibilities are endless, and his s/o is too busy shooting down all of his advances to be scared of Halloween.

Syo

Syo, of course, will be the absolute bravest person on the planet for his s/o’s sake. Nothing can get past him. No one jumping from behind a corner, no hyper-realistic spiders hanging from the ceiling, no jump scares on websites… Well, that last one was a little trickier, but he was good at looking over his s/o’s shoulder and making sure they don’t follow any weird links.

He sees Halloween as a good time to try to get over their fears. He believes in them, and he knows that if they put their mind to it, they’ll be able to take anything head on. He’ll ease them into scary situations on their own terms; they’ll start with something small like plastic bugs and rats and gradually move on to scary movies and things like that. Of course, if anything gets to be too much, he’ll calm their nerves and tell them he’s proud of them for trying.

If his s/o is embarrassed about being scared, he’ll take the fall for them and claim that whatever going on is too scary for him, and he’ll insist that they should knock it off because it’s getting to him. Then when no one’s looking, he’ll wink at his s/o and give them a knowing smile.

Syo has the perfect alternative for scary moving nights: Prince of Fighting! Sure they’ve watched them a million times, but they’re not scary at all now since all the suspenseful scenes are easy to predict at this point.

Cecil

Since Cecil isn’t used to any Halloween traditions yet, he’s more confused than scared of anything. He’ll ask his s/o to explain their reactions and what’s so scary about stuff, and they’ll usually refuse and just tell him to ask someone else. But he’s pretty persistent, and through explaining things to him, his s/o starts to realize that all these things they thought were terrifying aren’t so bad.

Cecil reminds his s/o that he spent a good chunk of time as a black cat, so he can personally guarantee that there’s nothing scary about felines. He thinks that all of the Halloween creatures are just misunderstood, and he’ll talk to his s/o about that and those conversations also help ease their fears.

He also asks if there’s any Halloween songs that he should know about. Once his s/o fills him in, he’ll insist that they sing together. It’s hard to be scared when you’re having a blast singing a duet with Cecil, and he’ll definitely start up random singalongs as often as he can.

Cecil is always wanting to learn, and as a result of that, his s/o ends up learning things too. Knowledge helps get rid of the fear of the unknown, and it’s a subtle way Cecil helps his s/o get over the Halloween jitters. By the end of the season, Cecil sits back and smiles as they take in all Halloween has to offer. It took a little bit of work, but he knew it was just the thing his loved one needed.

Also, since Halloween is his birthday, a lot of the focus is taken from spooks and instead directed at birthday prep and festivities. His s/o never had a lot to look forward to during this season, but now that Cecil was around to dote on, they had a brand new outlook on the holiday.

I hope your Halloween isn’t too scary, and I hope you can have a fun day despite all the scares! 

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Croatia to Eurovision with a confused angel lad and his lowkey over-enthusiastic mentor

Yeah, well, I definitely have hoped for this nation to finally finally bring back Dora as their national selection, as I myself have never really felt their internal entries since they abandoned it (well maybe except Nina from 2012 but even then by now I grew out of it softly). Not even Nina from 2016 which was tipped as a huge fan fave (though I’m so sorry for it getting completely lambasted in Eurovision, especially because of the poor clothing choice and Nina’s warbly notes here and there).

And they did! After like what, 7 solid years??? After the last Dora ending out with a disastrous end result and spawned a person to (more) stardom who even qualified a couple years back and this year he’s there to be a songwriter for his home country because of the Eurovision 2019 slogan inspiring him???? Well... yeah that happened. With having fought 15 other participants made up of familiar faces, up and coming starlets, the already legendary divas or just some people, he won as a songwriter for this next target of my review - the target that is aptly titled “The Dream” and is performed by a 19 year old up-and-coming pop star, Roko Blažević. Yep, Jacques Houdek won a NF but not with himself singing. Man did his magic game get stronger over the years since Dora 2011.

And interestingly enough, Jacques’s wizardry comes in with him being capable of selling chanceless music as something worth buying into. How can that happen???

Well, to be frank with you all, this song is not that bad, unlike everyone thinks it is. It feels like a low-rent musical ballad, sure, but it's not terribly composed or anything... well, I know I usually hate on those songs that like using mostly not the "verse - chorus - verse - chorus - bridge - chorus", but there are plenty of songs that mess with that structure that usually just omit the last two components (radio pop music) or don’t even need one, and they sound great. Here we have the omission of the last two components that more reminds me of “Grande amore” (I am not saying they’re comparable but still), as in, slow ballad in the F minor (”The Dream” even slaps a keychange on) that tries to sound majestic/dramatic, not very much so to be intense, just something theatrical I s’pose. And has a little too little time for another full verse so they just go to a bridge (and "Grande amore" had two long pre-choruses too?!?). I don’t hate this one, if I had to make a 2019 ranking this instant I’d put this in Top 30 somehow.

So what is there to be found that puts people off? They cannot be hating on Roko’s voice, which is really great for a young man like him. (In fact, God forbid I say one bad word about him, because some specific one on Twitter will have a beatdown with me because I dissed her hubby... so I’ll keep my mouth shut about any qualities of his :X) I guess it consists of several factors: 1) the song sounds dated; 2) the lyrics, especially in that chorus (I DREAM OF LOOOOOOVE, YOU DREAM OF LOOOOOOVE~ lol I actually dream of hatred, hatred will prevail >:) ); 3) the vocal volume is loud at parts; 4) the song is English-Croatian and somehow it should be sung in Croatian just to hide away the hideous understandable lyrics. My personal caveats are: 1) the song is too plodding and it shows a lot in that chorus with Roko holding his long notes (can we get tothe point FASTER?!); 2) the chorus lacks productional depth and maybe with a slight revamp (given Jacques wouldn’t be so stubborn about it!) it could have sounded the right amount of dramatic. If anything, I am GRATEFUL that it sounds more palatable than "My Friend", as THAT one was a joyful of cringey clichés tbh. The cheese became rotten and smelly and the sudden violin lead-in into the bridge still creeps me out. Goddamn it Jaq.

Not to mention Mr. Houdek is soooooo optimistic about his song, he finds everything in it perfect enough to not change it! Not the melody, not the language decisions, not the wings (did I tell you Roko wore wings on his NF performance??) - no! Did someone not tell him that Eurovision is rapidly evolving and his fantasies of coming top 3 with this song just better stay fantasies? Oh wait, it's the same man who once sang "dare to dream and make it real", of course he's stuck to his guns like super glue. Can't blame him, there were worse songs in top 3 over the years. Still though, the wings is a stupid idea. There should be something else involved if Jacques wants a performance to be memorable. Roko can't just stand there and only do what he's told to do by his guardian songwriter - granted he has to behave but still...

In the end, how would I summarize this tl;dr? I am one of a handful of folks who find this alright. There's a bigger minority who outright adores the song but I'm just there that likes this and nothing much more, honestly. Everything's just alright. Guess I'm sometimes soft enough to accept cheese, huh. But seriously, the mentoring behind the scenes... it's creepy to say the least. I'm happy Roko's having a helluva good time at least.

Approval factor: Oh I don't know with this one, statistically we can just go ahead and... try approving this? I’m not a huge fan of Croatian entries this decade, at least Slovenia redeemed themselves in my eyes last minute with “Sebi”, while even in my Croatian faves (they mostly are “Nebo” and “Crazy”, and I maaaaaybe like “Lighthouse” a bit too actually?) I see some negative qualities that completely overwhelm my liking for them. But since I legally find “The Dream” okay, I give this one a bit of a pass.

Follow-up factor: Sadly this kind of choice feels to me as a steady divedown in overall quality of what Croatia usually offers us. Well the decline was always on since “My Friend” followed up “Lighthouse” I suppose, or it's just so happens that Croatia sent the duds on this decade only in odd years ("Celebrate" was fun but tragic trash, "Mižerja" was pleasant I guess but everything here was miserable from the beginning and everyone still doesn’t get why “My Friend” qualified and “Crazy” didn’t). I like it though.

Qualification factor: I’d like to believe that this one can borderline sneak the fuck in to the finals for no reason other than Jacques knowing how to work things in his favour. Yes, I’m not writing this off completely. Although I still see some parts where this wouldn’t work out, it’s actually not 100% doomed... if anything, I at least don’t see it coming last in semi easily! It’s not as LAME as Iceland last year was. And it too was a basic love-peace-dreams message inserted into an older-timey-sounding singalong ballad and was given for a young singer that has a helluva lot of potential later ASIDE Eurovision. That is if they don't pretend Eurovision "ruined [their] careers, njeh!", of course. At least Roko can SANG live and maybe it will happen again that a singer's voice will make this surprisngly qualify over the song? We'll see. For now Jacques should just stay focused on how to make Roko's angel wings (sigh...) more memorable on stage in case the voice is not qualifying but the gimmicks are.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

EMA 2019 at least had positive surprises all over for a NF this non-cared-about-by-me. Dora just... did not. Really. This NF did not interest me all that much song-quality-wise, and it even had SIX MORE SONGS than EMA!!! Crazy, huh?? But it’s okay, I can talk about the show to you if you want me to:

• From the Dora participants list announcement I was mostly excited to hear like two entries, and I'll mention both of them right away separately. And it's by two artists I've heard of before a lot! Though this first one kind of made me feel like I've been somewhat betrayed... enter Luka Nižetić who has got a nice vast catalogue of songs now - soft song(s), upbeat summer songs, and so on. And I kinda liked some of those songs of his I heard (if you're looking for recommendations, give "Vječno" a listen!), but “Brutalero”, his actual Dora 2019 entry was... on a whole different level. Dude, when was ripping off “Mi gente” ever useful?? It’s the year people were chasing after “Fuego” as the Latinesque bop to copy, not this! I hate it when people rehash annoying (but catchy) songs, and it’s certainly worse when they do it as their Eurovision NF entry. Brutal. And I actually remember hyping him before hearing the song, which is a bigger facepalm-worthy moment of mine. When will I ever learn?! ;( Thank God for the juries who served this song right. IDC if the revamp version of this made it any better, I’ll be fuming over this not being an inspired song. Oh and the comic book cartoon style made this brutally laughable to me, I said what I said. It might have entertained some kids though. So to summarise, Luka’s capable of having bops out, but “Brutalero” ain’t it, sis.

• Well guess what - Friendship ended with LUKA, Now MANNTRA is my best friend! Hell yeah lol. Did I tell you I like rock music so much? So I really foresaw kind of liking Manntra's song “In the Shadows” and rooting for them based on me knowing their name (just like Luka but oop), and in fact I really did root for them in the end! I wish I supported them more than Luka instead. They’re bangin’. They’re blazin’. They’re pure awesomeness. Their costumes. THAT BREAKDOWN. Magic. Should’ve won, and if them winning were any forbidden because Croatia is just refusing to accept stuff I’d stan for, at least come second. Screw Luka, screw Lorena. Bring the rock music back. ^^

• oh yeah and the others I guess. Well, if I had to recommend a few entries, here goes: if you’re nostalgic for old-timey early 2000′s bops (in the style of “Everyway That I Can”), you go and listen to the aforementioned Lorena Bućan‘s entry, “Tower of Babylon”. If you dreamed of one of the Femminem singers becoming a 60s retro artiste (actually you did not, that sounds very utter random), go check her project’s (Gelato Sisters) entry, “Back to That Swing”. If you’re here for THE QUEEN DOMENICA, go ahead, check out “Indigo”, the ultimate shopping mall background music anthem. My actual other favourite together with Manntra was Beta Sudar though, as “Don’t Give Up” as some really nice pop I guess. You see what I mean when I said that Dora this year did not interest me all that much song-quality-wise? Well ofc some songs were nice but that's all and too much 'just niceness' is slowly breaking me honestly. I would have gladly cancelled the NF and put Manntra through internally instead. Epic boys deserve an epic platform to showcase themselves, I don’t make the rules here.

Thankfully that's that out of the way, now I'm just going to wish this sweet little angel man all the best in Tel Aviv and not to be too upset if he flops. I know Jacques would be upset, but for that he shouldn't put Roko through a similar mind process also...

[wigwurq]

WIG REVIEW: BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

Yes, I saw the #1 movie in America the weekend it opened. YAYYYS I saw it for free using Moviepass (!) YES IT IS THE WORST BIOPIC I HAVE EVER SEEN. Yes, really. And I have seen Hysteria: The Def Leppard Story starring Anthony Michael Hall! This is worse! But what about the wigs? Buckle up - I HAVE A LOT TO DISCUSS.

Straight up: I love Queen and Freddie Mercury. And when this movie was announced, I feared that their/his story would be sullied AND I WAS RIGHT. As was Sacha Baron Cohen (THE ONLY PERSON WHO COULD HAVE PLAYED FREDDIE MERCURY) for walking away from this doomed project years ago. We were left with Rami Malek as Mercury instead. I do not watch I, Robot and as far as I can tell, Malek is a malnourished baby bird who is trying his hardest under bad script and directional circumstances. 

We first see him in this lewk which I can only describe as offbrand Laurie Metcalf. This is not the worst wig but gurl it ain’t good.

Before you can say “what year did Laurie Metcalf get that perm on Roseanne?” Mercury suddenly goes from bullied college student/airport baggage attendant to lead singer of of Queen aka “HIS FAMILY!!!!!!” because why waste time on character or story development?! BRING ON THE SILVER CATSUIT AND HOPE EVERYONE JUST LIKES HIS LIPSYNCING! To be fair, Malek can lip sync for his LIFE - even with those prosthetic chompers - and enduring a new wig with bangs that screams “80s mallrat turned single mother”

Also right before officially joining Queen, Mercury meets this bish named Mary who he likes because from what I can tell, she has a nice fur coat and can get him a discount at BIBA. Hey, sounds like true love to me! This movie tells you (for 2+) hours that Mary was Mercury’s AIN’ TRUE LOVE despite him being bi and also giving no examples as to why they like each other except for love of fashion and cats (though this is how I determined most of my gay friendships in college but I didn’t make an overlong movie about it). 

I will give this movie credit for showing Mercury to be the crazy cat lady that he was but honestly, I could have used more kitty content. This movie could have used at LEAST half an hour more on these cats. Seriously.

Instead, we got to see these bedraggled wigs screaming into microphones as they tried to finesse the finer points of the song Bohemian Rhapsody. All of these wigs are basically Halloween versions of Spinal Tap wigs as are the characterizations. 

UGH AND THEN MIKE MYERS TURNED UP. Look, I love So I Married An Axe Murderer as much as the next guy but OYYY. Myers plays an EMI executive who refuses to release Bohemian Rhapsody as a single because it’s too long and operatic and says something like, “no one will ever sing along to the radio to this in their car” because THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HE DOES IN WAYNE’S WORLD, GET IT?!?!?!?!?! If that Easter Egg doesn’t make your eyes roll out into the Black Sea, his “Da Bears SNL Sketch” look certainly will. 

Of course, Bohemian Rhapsody goes on to be a huge hit and the movie trolls you by putting a bunch of negative reviews of the song on the screen to prove JUST HOW WRONG EVERYONE WAS and just as you’re getting to the singalong part of the song, the movie inexplicably moves into tour montage territory because ????? There are zero consistencies stylistically or otherwise in this movie and it is definitely NOT for anyone who actually likes Queen’s music as their songs are interspersed like a frenetic wedding DJ and their best album, Sheer Heart Attack, doesn’t even get a mention.

The movie is far more content making you wonder whether Mercury will marry Mary despite his bisexuality (spoiler alert: HE DOESN’T) and telling you about ever 5 minutes that QUEEN IS A FAMILY SO STOP TRYING TO BREAK US UP, IRISH CHAUFFEUR FROM DOWNTON ABBEY! 

The wigs get progressively scraggly throughout the late 70s until Mercury decides to cut off all his hair and get a stache which signals the end for the band for some reason (?) and leads to another Easter Egg in which the dude who plays Brian May (who really does look a lot like him) says that he’ll never get a haircut. GET IT, BECAUSE HE NEVER DID. 

Throughout the film, May (who may have been the reason Sacha Baron Cohen rightly walked from this mess) is shown as an angelic guitar god who gave the world (and mainly Queen’s fans) WE WILL ROCK YOU AND THEREFORE CANNOT DO ANY WRONG. Mercury, on the other hand, is led to hell and back via a leather bar and a shitty solo career in Munich by Littlefinger from Game of Thrones and that Downton chauffeur with a mustache. Nothing gets too scandalous or seedy because this movie is rated PG-13 for some reason so you will definitely see Mercury get diagnosed with AIDS but you won’t see how. I choose to blame parttime director and fulltime asshole Bryan Singer for most of the movie’s flaws. OF WHICH THERE ARE MANY. May he be electrocuted in a hot tub for his many crimes, of which this is #1. 

And then we come to the uncanny valley of an ending! This movie chooses to believe that the apex of Queen was their Live Aid performance which is recreated through ALL OF THE COMPUTERS. But first, Mercury goes and finds this random cater waiter who he met once and brings him directly to meet his Indian parents so that his dad can tell him he loves him all on the way to Wembley Stadium the course of about 2 minutes so that they could spend a full 20 minutes showing you THE ENTIRE LIVE AID SET. Because you’d definitely rather watch Malek be Mercury performing to a sea of computers than just, you know, watching the actual performance on YouTube. Meanwhile, some doofus playing Bob Geldof in a sad mullet wig sits in a silent room where no one is making ANY donations for Live Aid until Queen performs. “Based on a true story” has never been truer. IN CONCLUSION I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO MAD AT A MOVIE. Actual footage of Queen performing “Don’t Stop Me Now” plays over the credits and is the only watchable part of the film. 

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

[scribblindown]

The Kingsglaive as Pirates

Golden Age of Pirates AU, Slight Mermaid AU

Universe Extension of The Chocobros as Mermen

“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me.” 

Kingsglaive: 

Combined bounty: 1,113,400,000 Gil 

Jolly Roger: a typical skull with crossed swords and a crown adorning the skull. 

Ship: a large, dark vessel under the name of the Black Skull.

The Kingsglaive Pirates are one of the most notorious pirate crews out on the seas, and are wanted in almost every country. In total, they have created 16,000,000,000 Gil in damages worldwide, (including the destruction of other pirates’ property, and hospital bills of the government’s army.)

Their main safe house is a beach house up on a small hill in a bustling town. It is manned by Nyx’s younger sister, [Name], when everyone else is out at sea. This is where they go when the crew wants to either lay low, stock up on supplies, or rest. 

Even though it’s a small crew they are feared and revered. 

The Kingsglaive’s reign of terror ended with the betrayal of half of their members, and the arrest, then death of the rest of them. 

Titus: 

Bounty: None

Position: Unnamed captain 

Weapon/s: personalized sword

Titus is a high-ranking government official and noble, and while he’s strict and uptight, no one suspects him of his crimes 

He started the Kingsglaive as a way to get some under the table work done without soiling his hands or having any of the crimes be tracked back to him. 

He funds the ship, the weapons, their clothes, their food—basically everything the pirates need for smooth sailing, and in return they steal, destroy, or kill whoever or whatever he needs. 

Although he prefers not to do the dirty work, don’t think that he would be easy to off. He may be a noble, but he’s one of the best fighters in the Kingsglaive and trying to fight him would be considered suicide. 

He visits the ship occasionally, but he mostly sends out tasks and missions through birds of prey who deliver the post. When he does visit the ship, he hides his face with a helmet and was only spotted a handful of times. 

On the wanted papers, it’s a messy drawing of him in his helmet and is labeled under “Unnamed member.” 

The marshal, Cor, is the only person that suspects him and whom he butts heads with.  

He eventually exposes and leads the arrest of his own pirate crew to get a better name for himself, rise in the ranks, cut ties and any association with the Kingsglaive and collect the bounty. 

Fate: Killed by Nyx Ulric. 

Luche:

Bounty: 500,000,000 Gil 

Position: “Captain” 

Weapon/s: cutlass swords, and a pistol 

He’s captain in name only, and the Kingsglaive know to follow Drautos when it comes to orders, but when it comes to small tasks, or orders in the middle of battle, they follow Luche. 

He’s known for taking small amounts of the treasures they find for himself, and he’s not very well-liked on the ship. 

Luche also shows signs of wanting to take the Kingsglaive for himself, but never gets in Drautos’ way. 

Drautos eventually tells him to kill Crowe to slowly break the Kingsglaive apart, and he goes through with the plan. 

He kills Crowe by sending her off to go “collect” some money from another pirate crew and once she’s a good distance away, he sails to her and kills her in the middle of the ocean. 

He brings the corpse back and tells everyone that the other pirate crew killed her. 

He is one of the crew members who betray the Kingsglaive in exchange for the government letting them go scotfree. 

Fate: Ends up burned alive because he was unable to escape the Black Skull as it was being set ablaze. 

Nyx: 

Bounty: 130,000,000 Gil 

Position: Swordsman/Commando 

Weapon/s: He favors his personalized daggers 

He was personally recruited by Drautos into the Kingsglaive and was under his tutelage. 

As a kid, he was from the small village of Galahad, but fled with Libertus and his younger sister when it was attacked and raided. 

He was caught and escaped at least three times. Because of this he has a “P” for pirate branded on his arm. He jokes and says that it’s just another tattoo to add to his collection. 

He has a slight fear of the ocean. He would still swim and such, but anyone can tell that he hesitates every time he looks at the water. 

This is because he was dragged into the water and nearly drowned by mermaids when he was younger. His younger sister was nearly killed by mermaids as well. 

He kills mermaids ruthlessly because of this. 

He also enjoys being on land more than not, and when he does go ashore, he spends his time relaxing on the beach, but on the ship, you can find him sleeping on the Crow’s nest most of the time, which annoys the hell out of the Lookout. 

He has a personal rule of letting human women and children go. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to you dad, kid, but if it still hurts in the future, and you’re still bitter...I’ll be waiting.” 

He was one of the members who stayed faithful to the Kingsglaive, but was arrested and jailed because of it. He was left without a trail because of his reputation. 

Right before his hanging the morning after, he escaped and managed to fight Titus to the death. 

Fate: Shot and killed by some of the government’s men after he wasfound after killing Titus. Died peacefully. 

Libertus: 

Bounty: 300,000,000

Position: First-mate 

Weapon/s: broadswords 

Was caught with Nyx by Drautos while the two were out doing small crimes, and was recruited into the Kingsglaive. 

He got the first-mate position because he has “a better head screwed on” than Nyx, according to Luche. 

He’s the typical image of the cheerful pirate. He goes to pubs and taverns, he leads the ship’s singalongs on lazy days and drinks to his heart’s content. 

He believes in all of those ghost stories that takes place on the ocean, so Nyx gets a kick out of teasing him and scaring him. 

He also believes in the typical pirate stories and curses, such as Davy Jones’ locker, Calypso, and the Flying Dutchman, but will outright deny it. 

He escaped Galahad with Nyx and his younger sister, and remains loyal to his best friend. 

He was the only person that suspected Titus and Luche, and remained loyal during the fall of the Kingsglaive. 

He was arrested with Nyx and Pelna . 

He managed to escape his cell to tell Nyx of Titus’ betrayal and helped Nyx break out. 

He led Luche to the Black Skull, docked on the government’s port, and set the ship on fire. He managed to escape burning to death by jumping into the water when the flames were still growing. 

Fate: He escaped the government and fled. He is still wanted dead or alive. 

Crowe: 

Bounty: 80,000,000 Gil 

Position: Doctor 

Weapon/s: daggers

She is the only female in the Kingsglaive, and while she might get more crap for it, she can take it. 

She also gets a room all to herself, so she isn’t complaining. 

She grew up as an orphan in a small village, but was eventually run out of her own home after they had discovered her ability for healing and labeled her as a witch. 

Lived a life on the streets before she joined the Kingsglaive. 

Although the crew is dysfunctional, she truly cares about the crew and thinks of them as her own family. Libertus and Nyx think of her as a little sister. 

She left on a mission that Luche sent her on, and once she was a far cry from the ship, Luche caught up with her and shot her. 

Her corpse was brought back and her death started the rift between the Kingsglaive

Fate: Killed by Luche. Her body was buried by the government. 

Pelna: 

Bounty: 50,000,000 Gil

Position: Navigator 

Weapon/s: two cutlass swords 

He embodies the spirit of a pirate, and enjoys the freedom, drinking, and doing whatever he wants. 

He constantly says that the sea is his first love and the ship is his second love. 

He’s one of the few people who have living family, but he says the sea is calling out to him, so he can’t stay with them. 

Probably the only person on the ship that can read a map. Nyx can get lost in a straight hallway with no doors or windows without him. 

He was one of the few people who stayed loyal to the Kingsglaive and was arrested along with Nyx and Libertus as a result. 

Escaped with Libertus and protected Nyx from Tredd, Axis, and Sonitus, but was caught by the government’s men right afterwards. 

Fate: Death by hanging. 

Tredd: 

Bounty: 400,000 Gil

Position: Lookout 

Weapons: swords and pistols 

Shows obvious dislike for Titus and Luche, but never says it to their faces 

He also views the pirate position as being equivalent to a “rat,” and wouldn’t fail to remind his crew members this 

He has several illegitimate children sprinkled around the world. 

 He was one of the members who betrayed the Kingsglaive in exchange of a clean slate. 

He attempted to kill Nyx, but was stopped by Pelna. He was eventually led to the ship with Axis and Sonitus and burned with it. 

Fate: Death by being burned alive. 

Axis: 

Bounty: 3,000,000 Gil

Position: Shipwright 

Weapons: swords 

Known for being a quiet individual, and hardly ever participates in the crew’s festivities. He would sit and drink by himself while everyone else celebrates together. 

Along with Tredd and Sonitus, he betrays the Kingsglaive and attempts to kill Nyx as the Galahadin was on his way to fight Titus. 

Fate: Died on the Black Skull. 

Sonitus: 

Bounty: 50,000,000 Gil

Position: Gunner 

Weapon/s: He can fight with anything; he’s a weapons specialist. 

He’s rather no-nonsense and gets very exasperated when his crew goes too far. 

He’d participate in the festivities, but wouldn’t say or do much other than sit there and drink quietly. 

He becomes a traitor to the Kingsglaive and attempts to kill Nyx as well. 

Fate: Burned alongside Tredd and Axis. 

[harper-hook]

Not What It Seems | Luke x Reader

Summary: You are a powerful Greek goddess, almost as powerful as the Big Three. But you’re in danger. Thankfully, your older brothers have a perfect idea

(Y/N)- Your Name

(Y/F/N)- Your Fake Name

Requested by: @nicolerachel12 

Author’s Note: I'm so sorry this took so long! Hope you like it!

You growled angrily as you teleported outside of Camp Half Blood. This was all Zeus’ fault! Well, you knew it was for your own good. Since Poseidon’s son had showed up at Camp Half Blood, it meant the prophecy had been set in motion. That meant Kronos was coming after the Gods. Especially you.

You were the Goddess of Time. That meant Kronos was targeting you specifically. Zeus came up with the idea and unfortunately, the council agreed it would be safer to send you to Camp in disguise. 

 There was no arguing against the council so you stomped down to the Big House. “(Y/N).” Chiron greeted with a slight nod. “Chiron.” You nodded in return and plopped down at the table with him and Dionysus. “Seems like I'm not the only one getting sentenced to this hell on Earth?” Dionysus smirked at you. “Shut up, Mr. D. I'm only here for the summer.” You sneered. “Where am I staying?” You asked Chiron in a much politer tone.

“You’ll be staying in the Hermes cabin.” Chiron informed you. “What?” You asked incredulously. You thought the plan was that you were going to stay in your own cabin. “I know what you’re thinking. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin for a couple of weeks and you’ll be claimed,” He finger quoted around ‘claimed’. “By (Y/N) and you’ll move into your own cabin.” Chiron finished.

As much as you would love to immediately move into your own cabin by yourself, it would seem suspicious. Chiron told you that you would have to take a fake name. “This summer is gonna last forever.” You sighed. “Deal me in.” You ordered Dionysus. He grumbled under his breath but dealt you in.

“Chiron, he’s been fed.” You turned your head to look at the blonde haired girl who just came out from the infirmary. “Thank you, Annabeth.” Chiron told her. You met her questioning gaze. One of Athena’s, you thought to herself.

Chiron noticed your stare off. “Annabeth, this is (Y/F/N). She’ll be staying in the Hermes cabin for the time being. Would you mind taking her there?” Chiron asked. “Yes.” Annabeth motioned for you to follow her down the steps. “Whatever. I was losing anyways. Good luck, Mr. D.” You smirked and followed Annabeth down the steps.

“How old are you?” Annabeth asked suddenly. 3000 years. “I'm 16.” You said out loud. “Oh. Same age as Luke.” She informed you. “Luke?” You questioned. “Hermes Head Counselor. You’ll like him.” She nodded confidently. Oh yeah. Hermes’ favorite kid. “If you say so.” You sighed as you reached a run down looking cabin.

Annabeth knocked on the door. It took a few moments but the door swung open. “Hey Annabeth.” A tall blonde boy with a long white scar on his cheek greeted. “Hey Luke.” Annabeth smiled, blush obvious on her cheek. Luke’s gaze met yours. Wow, Hermes never mentioned that his son was really handsome.

“Who’s this?” Luke’s gaze met yours. “This is (Y/F/N). She’s new. Unclaimed.” Annabeth told him. Luke rolled his eyes. “Ok. Thank you, Annabeth. I’ll show them around.” He told her. “Ok. I’ve got to get back to the infirmary. Bye.” Annabeth started walking back to the Big House.

You turned back to Luke with a small smile. “C’mon. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.” Luke motioned for you to follow him. You stepped into the cabin and oh my Gods. Overcrowded wasn’t even the word for it. There were sleeping bags and bunk beds lining the wall. It was like a puppy mill.

“You’ll be staying right here.” Luke pointed to a red sleeping bag. “Lovely.” You wrinkled your nose. “I’ll steal your some toiletries later. If you ever need me, I’ll be right here.” He pointed to the top bunk near your sleeping bag. “Thanks. So a tour?” You asked. Luke laughed. “Sure. C’mon.” Luke lead you out of the Hermes cabin.

You knew all about the Camp, where everything was and how it worked but you decided to let Luke tell you about everything. It was cute, to say the least. But there was still something bothering you.

“And this is Long Island Sound.” Luke lead you down the docks. “It’s beautiful.” You said, gazing out over the water. You bit your lip anxiously. “Luke, can I ask you something?” You asked, turning to face him.

“You just did but sure.” Luke smiled at you. “Why is the Hermes cabin so crowded?” You asked curiously. Almost instantly, Luke’s warm smile melted into a cold sneer. “Believe it or not, not all those kids in the Hermes cabin aren’t children of Hermes.” Luke spat angrily.

“Some of them are the children of the minor Gods. You know, the ones that the Olympians don’t give a shit about!” Luke seethed, making you flinch. You almost opened your mouth to defend the Olympians but managed to stop yourself. That would be bad.

“It’s so stupid! Hera, Artemis and (Y/N)’s cabin have always been empty!” Luke ranted, making you wince. You had a few children back in the olden days but now, mortals just sort of bored you. But you never knew that anyone that didn’t have a cabin was just packed away in the Hermes cabin. You always assumed that the minor Gods had one big community cabin. You didn’t know it was this bad.

You continued to look at Luke as he was turned around, panting heavily from his yelling. “Luke, I'm sorry I asked. I didn't realize it was so... sensitive.” You struggled to find the right word. Luke sighed. “No, it’s my fault. I didn’t want to tell you this on your first day but the truth of the matter is, the Gods don’t care about us.” Luke told you.

Your heart hurt at the hurt and anger on his face. You walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “Wow. I’m glad you told me before someone else did.” You told him. You wanted to tell him he was wrong but he wasn’t. You knew some Gods treated their kids as weapons and pawns and nothing more.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Me too.” You both walked down to the edge of the docks and sat down. It was quiet but it was a soothing quiet. “You know, I’ve always disliked giving new campers tours but this one, I didn’t mind.” Luke smiled at you, making you blush.

“Thank you. The tour was lovely.” You stared out over the water. A loud conch shell horn blew, making both of you turn your heads. “It’s dinner time. You’re the new kid, therefore you’re last in line.” Luke shrugged apologetically. “Makes sense.” You followed Luke back towards the cabins.

You were handed a plate of brisket and fruit salad and made your way to the Campfire. Was this really the best plan you could think of, you questioned Zeus in your head as you threw a piece of brisket into the fire. Thunder rumbled ominously, making campers look up nervously.

Ignoring Chiron’s pointed stares, you sat down at the Hermes table. Ok wow, this was extremely cramped. You were right on the edge of the bench, knocking elbows with the person next to you. This was miserable.

Chiron stomped the ground. “To the Gods.” He lifted his glass. “To the Gods.” The pavilion murmured. You dug into your meal. There was definitely somethings that needed work around camp. Invest in bigger cabins and bigger tables. Maybe this wouldn’t be an entirely bad thing.

You lifted your gaze to meet Luke’s. He flashed you a quick grin. Oh yeah, definitely not a bad thing.

The next day was way better than the first. Training with the Hermes cabin wasn’t hard. You had over 2000 years of experience on them but you let Luke knock the sword out of your hands.

Chiron also called you to the Big House and told you that you could claim yourself at campfire! Finally you could get your own space. You couldn’t wait. “(Y/F/N)! (Y/F/N)!” Luke called, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? What?” You asked. “We’ve got campfire. You coming?” He asked. “Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.” You waved him off. Once he was out of sight, you ran to the Big House, both Chiron and Dionysus were both on the porch.

“Ok. What’s the plan for tonight?” You asked excitedly. “After I finish talking, just claim yourself. Then they sing, I regret chasing that nymph, you go to your own cabin. Do not pass Go, do not collect 200 drachma, blah blah blah.” Dionysus drabbled on. You rolled your eyes. “Just you wait until the next solstice, you old drunk.” You sneered.

You walked towards the Campfire, seeing the tall, golden flames from far away. “(Y/F/N)!” You heard Luke call out. You turned and saw him waving you over. You smiled and went to him. “I saved you a seat.” “Thanks.” You grinned at him.

The one bad thing about moving into your own cabin was not being able to see Luke as much as you wanted. You were pulled out of your thoughts by Chiron stomping his hoof.

“Alright. It’s been a long day dealing with you twerps so let’s get this over with. Apollo cabin, if you will-” Dionysus started. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, making a hourglass appear over your head.

The campers gasped as you put on a fake shocked look. “Well it seems someone wants to be the star of the show.” Dionysus glared at you. “Presenting (Y/F/N), child of (Y/N).” Chiron announced.

The campfire fell silent as the camper bowed their heads to you. After a moment, they raised their heads up. Everyone was glancing at you nervously but you also saw some sad and angry faces. You looked down, embarrassed.

You felt Luke slide his hand on top of yours. You met his gaze with a sad smile.  You didn’t even hear Dionysus continue the singalong. I'm just not feeling this, you thought to yourself.

Quickly and quietly, you slinked out of your seat and made your way towards your cabin. With a small groan, you sat down on the steps of your cabin, holding your head in your hands.

You felt someone’s presence next to you. “Hey. You ok?” Luke put his hand on your shoulder. “Yeah, just got a bit overwhelmed.” You looked up at him. “I get that. But at least now you don’t have to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag.” Luke said. “Yeah but I'm gonna miss you.” You smiled.

“You’ll still train with us and I can always make time for you.” You laughed, covering your face. “I swear it’s your mission in life to make me blush as much as possible.” “I can’t help it. You’re cute when you blush.” Luke grinned. “Stop.” You whined, looking down again.

You felt Luke’s hand on your chin, tilting your head up. Your heart started pounding as he started leaning in. Hermes is so gonna kill me, you thought to yourself as you started to lean in as well.

You both jumped back as the Harpies squawked overhead. “Schist.” Luke cursed, standing up. “Um,” He turned back to you, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? I really don’t wanna get eaten by a Harpy.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah. See ya, Luke.” You waved. He waved back before running off in the direction of the Hermes cabin. Damn, so close. The harpies cawed overhead ominously. You rolled your eyes and walked into your new cabin.

When you said summer would last forever, you didn’t expect to be wrong. Poseidon’s son, Perseus, was assigned his first quest and Annabeth and their satyr friend were going along with them.

Hopefully they succeeded. Another good thing about being at Camp Half Blood is that you didn’t have to listen to Poseidon and Zeus scream at each other. You fidgeted slightly, waiting on Luke to get back. He said that he wanted to talk to you once he got back from giving Percy something to help with their quest.

Your face broke out in a grin as you saw Luke jogging over to you. “Hey.” He greeted, breathless. He sat down on the edge of the dock next to you. “Hi. You give them what you wanted to give them?” You asked. “Yeah, it’ll help them on their quest.” Luke laughed.

“That’s nice of you.” You smiled at him. It was silent for a few moments. “This summer has really gone by fast. Time flies when I'm with you.” Luke gazed into your eyes. You almost laughed at the irony. “Thank you. I'm gonna miss you.” You leaned your head against his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Luke questioned. “Luke, I'm only staying for the summer.” You told him, nervously awaiting his response. “Oh. Right.” His voice was tight. You rubbed his back comfortingly.

He turned to face you and grabbed your hands. “Run away with me.” He said, staring directly into your eyes. “What?” You let out a small laugh, thinking he was joking. “I'm serious, (Y/F/N). Run away with me. Let’s leave this place behind.” Luke said seriously.

“Luke, are you kidding me? Why would you want to do that?” You asked him, shaking your head slightly. “What has this place done for us? All that’s happened since we came here is that we’ve been trained to be pawns for the Gods!” Luke growled, gripping your hands tighter.

“How many kids are sitting in the Hermes cabin unclaimed?” Luke asked. “A lot but-” “How many kids are sitting in the Hermes cabin claimed but their godly parent doesn’t have a cabin?” Luke cut you off. “A lot but-” “How many this has your mom attempted to contact you?” Luke continued.

“None! Ok!” You finally snapped, pulling your hands back. “This place may be flawed but without it, so many more demigods would have died! What about all our friends? We can’t turn our back on them!” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“This would be better for them! We could be better than the Gods. Things could be so much better if we were in charge. Think about it.” Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his side. You held your head in your hands.

“Can we just... not talk about this right now? Please.” You begged, staring out over the sound. Luke nodded and this time, it was an uncomfortable silence. It felt like you were suffocating.

“Listen, I'm sorry I brought it up. Just think about it, ok?” Luke looked you out of the corner of his eye. “Ok.” You lied. “Let’s just enjoy now and not think about the future.” Luke nodded to himself.

“I know one way we could enjoy it.” Luke smirked at you. You immediately caught on. “Oh yeah, how?” You smirked back at him. “Like this.” He held your chin gently and tilted your head up.

There wasn’t any interruptions as your lips finally met. Luke’s lips were slightly chapped but it was still one of the best first kisses you had ever had. You eventually broke apart, panting for air.

“That was awesome.” Luke grinned, making you laugh. “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.” You teased. “So, you maybe wanna sneak out of camp and catch a movie?” Luke asked. “I would love too.” You agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. Hermes was gonna be pissed.

“To The Gods!” You cheered, raising your glass. Perseus’ quest was a success and Zeus and Poseidon were no longer fighting. That meant you could return to Olympus. You felt guilty because you hadn’t told Luke yet. What were you supposed to tell him? Hey, we’ve been dating for about 2 weeks but I'm a goddess and I never told you. Yeah right.

You glanced over at the Hermes table and locked eyes with Luke. You blew him a kiss and he pretended to catch it. You smiled at him but still felt torn on the inside. You didn’t want to break up with him but you knew that once Luke found out you were an Olympian, you were finished.

“Tonight is Capture The Flag. Athena vs. Ares!” Chiron announced, the ending of his sentence drowned out by loud cheering. “Prepare your teams and meet in the forest in 20 minutes!” Chiron stomped his foot, signaling the end of dinner.

You walked to your cabin and started putting on your armor when you heard the door open. “It’s me.” Luke called out. “Hey baby. What’s up?” You asked, straightening out your armor. You tensed up but soon relaxed when Luke hugged you from behind. 

“Nothing. Just came to see you before the game.” He murmured into your ear. You smiled, looking at your reflections in the mirror. You looked like a normal couple, not a goddess and a demigod. Just two people in love.

“You come to see me before my teams wipes the floor with yours?” You teased him. You were sided with the Ares team while Hermes’s cabin was sided with Athena’s. “Ha. Yeah right.” Luke scoffed with a smile on his face.

“We’ll have to see, won’t we?” You smirked, pulling out of Luke’s embrace. “Yeah. I guess. Speaking of which, I’ve got... uh, something to do.” Luke scratched the back of his neck. “Ok. We can hang out after the game.” You nodded, tying your hair up. You turned to look at Luke when he didn’t answer.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah.” Luke nodded. It sounded like he was talking more to himself than you. “Good.” You nodded as Luke turned to leave. “Bye, (Y/N).” Luke said with a forced smile. You furrowed your eyebrows. “See you later?” You questioned. “Bye.” Luke waved, shutting the door behind him.

Ok, that was really weird. It left you with a bad feeling in your gut. You rubbed your temples, feeling very conflicted. It was times like this where you miss Aphrodite and all of her quirks. 

(Y/F/N)! (Y/F/N)!” You heard someone yelling for you. You immediately jumped up and ran out onto your cabin’s porch. It was Annabeth. “Chiron needs you now!” She yelled, almost in tears. 

You quickly bounded down the steps and ran as quickly as you could to the Big House. “Chiron! What’s-” You cut yourself off, staring at who Chiron was putting in an infirmary bed. It was Perseus, who was greyer than the ashes in the fire pit and was dried out like a raisin. 

“Oh Gods! What happened?” You stammered, horrified. You went over to the cabinet, pulling out the nectar and ambrosia. “Pit scorpion.” Chiron turned Percy’s hand over and grabbed the nectar from you. You gasped at the sight of the angry wound, oozing pus.

“But monsters can’t get in through the barrier. That means...” You trailed off, watching Chiron pour nectar into the wound, making it fizzle. “Yes. Someone summoned it but we don’t know who yet.” Chiron sighed. 

“I need to go inform the camp and make sure they keep alert. Keep nectar on that wound.” Chiron ordered, trotting out the door, not waiting for your answer. Every few minutes, you poured more nectar on his hand and continued your pacing. 

This went on past midnight. Thankfully, Perseus’s face was starting to regain some color. You sat down in the chair next to his bed, watching him. He was a scrawny boy, but was starting to build some muscle. A son of Poseidon named after a son of Zeus. So, he’s the one who’s gonna save us, you mu. Or destroy us.

You jerked up as Percy let out a pain filled gasp and started coughing. “Hold on. Hold on.” You murmured softly, holding a cup of nectar up to his lips. “Drink.” You ordered. Nectar worked when it was poured on an open wound but it was better when it was drank.

“Better?” You asked, setting the now empty glass on the table. “It was Luke!” Perseus croaked out. “What?” You questioned, furrowing your brow. “Luke summoned the scorpion. He lured me into the woods.” Perseus managed. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Why would Luke do that?

“(Y/F/N)?” Perseus called. Your jaw tightened. “I don’t believe you. Luke wouldn’t do that.” You shook your head in disbelief. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. You handed Perseus his water bottle. “I wouldn’t go around making accusations, Perseus.” You said coldly.

“It’s Percy. And it’s the truth.” Percy defended. “I’ll go let Chiron know you’re awake.” You ignored him and went to Chiron who was playing Pinochle with Dionysus and told him Percy was awake. You would’ve stuck around longer but you had business to attend to.

It was almost 2am but you really didn’t care. You bounded up the steps of the Hermes cabin and quietly knocked on the door. It took a few moments but Travis answered the door.

“Wha-? (Y/F/N)?” He answered groggily. “Yeah, yeah. Hi. Where’s Luke?” You asked almost impatiently. “You mean he’s not with you?” Travis snapped awake. Your heart dropped to your stomach. “I figured he was in your cabin.” Travis shrugged. “Oh Gods.” You muttered to yourself, running your hand through your already messy hair. “Thanks, Travis. I’ll see you later.” You ran back to the Big House.

Chiron met you at the Infirmary door. “He’s asleep. Zeus requests your presence on Mt. Olympus.” Chiron said firmly. “But-” “Zeus is not a patient man.” Chiron reminded you as thunder boomed ominously. You sighed, obviously not gonna get out of this. 

For the second time tonight, you walked out of the Big House and walked towards the perimeter. Taking a quick glance at Thalia’s tree, you flashed into your tunic and armor and flashed away to Olympus.

You had been back on Mt. Olympus for 3 days now and you were already missing the mostly peaceful tranquility of Camp Half Blood. You were walking through the garden, randomly touching flowers and speeding up their lifespan, watching them die and bloom again. 

“(Y/N)!” Your heart dropped, hearing Hermes call your name. “Yes, Hermes?” You raised an eyebrow, putting on a cool exterior. “Letter for you.” He shoved a letter into your hands and strutted away. Rude much?

You looked at the letter and instantly recognized the handwriting. With shaky hands, you opened Luke’s letter. “Dear (Y/F/N), I hope this letter finds you well. I couldn’t bare to say goodbye so I didn’t. I can’t stay at Camp anymore. I’m going crazy there and without you there, it would be even worse. I’ll find you again in the future. I love you. Luke.” You read to yourself.

Your heart clenched and you held the letter to your chest. “I love you too, Luke.” You mumbled. This is why you didn’t usually get involved in mortal affairs. It always hurts in the end.

It had been over a year since you left Camp Half Blood with no word from Luke. You missed him dearly but secretly hoped that he had moved on and forgotten about you. 

You scrolled through the channels on Hephaestus TV, nothing caught your interest. Suddenly, the TV switched to a beach. Miami, you recognized. You gasped as Luke appeared on screen. He looked just as good as you remembered but you didn’t like that smirk on his face. It was evil, not playful like it was before.

"This is no time for heroics, Percy. Drop your puny little sword, or I'll have you killed sooner rather than later." Luke sneered. This was not the Luke you knew. You gasped, tears rolling down your face as Luke confessed to poisoning Thalia’s tree and trying to steal the Golden Fleece to heal Kronos. Percy was telling the truth last summer.

You quickly turned the TV off as the Party Ponies started to arrive. You felt sick to your stomach. You had to see him one last time. For closure, you told yourself as you flashed onto the Princess Andromeda. You flashed out of your tunic and wore what you would have wore at Camp Half Blood.

You snuck down the hallways, narrowly avoiding some giants. You reached the end of the hall and the door that said Captain’s Quarters. You quickly ducked inside and spotted a blonde figure, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.

“Luke?” You called tentatively. He snapped his head up and his eyes widened almost comically. “(Y/F/N)!” His face broke out in a grin and he immediately pulled you in for a tight hug. It was almost like old times. But this wasn’t your Luke.

He pulled away and leaned down to place a kiss on your lips but you turned your head at the last second so he kissed your cheek. “I’ve missed you so much. Are you ok?” He asked, almost frantically.

A million different responses came to your head. “We need to talk.” You told him seriously. His grin fell but he let you lead him over to the bed. You looked down at your lap nervously. “Babe, you know you can tell me anything.” He tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes.

Might as well bite the bullet, as mortals would say. “(Y/N) isn’t my Godly Parent.” You blurted out. “What?” Luke tilted his head cutely. “I am (Y/N).” You admitted, closing your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “I don’t believe you.” He murmured. 

You stood up and walked to the center of the room. “Close your eyes.” You ordered. Once he had done so, you flashed into your tunic and battle armor. Luke opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. You would’ve laugh had it not been so tense. 

You held your head up as Luke approached you. “You’re a Goddess, an Olympian.” He said, almost in awe. “Yes. I'm sorry I didn’t tell you. I'm also afraid this is the last time we can see each other.” You said.

“We are on opposite sides of an upcoming war. You and I just aren’t meant for each other in this lifetime. Maybe the next one.” You caressed his cheeks. “And I’ll look forward to it. Goodbye, Luke.” You planted a soft kiss on his cheek and turned away from him. Once you knew he wasn’t looking, you flashed back to Olympus.

Perseus Jackson went on to win the war. Luke Castellan sacrificed himself to help Camp Half Blood win the war. At Luke’s funeral, one lone figure stood in the back, watching as Luke’s shroud burned. 

After everybody left, flames still burning, you approached the fire, clutching the letter Luke had written to you many years before. You dropped the letter into the fire, watching as it burned. “I’ll wait for you, Luke.”

[jakejames09]

No Rostam, no problem?  Vampire Weekend in the post-Rostam era

A group of high school kids starting a rock band is a great American past time.  Especially for those kids cut from the baseball team, THE great American past time.  The type of practice and commitment to collaboration it takes to become a good band or a good ball player is what makes both past times so appealing to the rest of us.  It was the love of the songwriting process first.  It was the smell of the fresh cut infield grass that got the particular individual in a single minded mission in trying to turn the past time he chose into art.  Famous songwriters and performers loved and obsessed over the music they were recording long before the record deal came the same way pro athletes dedicate their lives to training years before draft day.  That in itself, becoming successful at your chosen past time, turning it into art, and making a career out of it makes you all the more appealing to your inevitably growing fan base.  Aside from giving their specific audiences an emotional release, the love also comes from the acknowledgement that none of what you had was inherited, it was earned from tireless hours seeking perfection way before any dollars rolled in.  Sadly, most high school bands that scrape together money for studio time and college athletes who put it all on the line don’t ever come close to getting the recognition for their hard work.  They certainly don’t get the money.  This is not to say either activity is a waste of time.  Almost everyone comes out the other end of a band or sports team a better person.  Forming a band and being part of a team can build future team skills that can positively affect the participant in numerous aspects of life...but the money and fame escape him.

Fortunately for some already privileged Ivy League Scholars from New York the band casually started at a Columbia party turned into more than anyone could imagine on that alcohol fueled evening.  Ezra Koenig, Rostam Batmanglij, Chris Tomson, and Chris Baio formed Vampire Weekend.  (Excuse my oxford comma).  From the very beginning it was clear that Vampire Weekend wasn’t just another band.  Within 18 months of their inception, Vampire Weekend made a name for themselves on the indie scene.  While some critics spent time whining about how much the band sounded like Paul Simon’s Graceland, most heard it as I did.  An indie record at heart with accessible pop ideas that weren’t carried by synths and predictable filler but rather tribal African drum rhythms, live instrumentation, and brilliant, witty, self deprecating wordplay.  This was highlighted on A-Punk, a self-referenial gem about New York City that ironically catapulted them to international stardom.  The two members of the band benefitting the most from the increased acclaim and exposure was Ezra Koenig, lead singer and lyricist and Rostam Batmanglij, who was the multi-instrumentalist often credited with being the brainchild behind the bands entire sound. 

“Rostam and I are the two main songwriters” Ezra said in an interview early in the bands career.  With Contra, the 2010 follow up to their self titled debut that mythology continued to grow.  The two of them became masters at employing subtle differences in their recording styles.  Instead of using familiar echo sounds and various chamber effects that previously yielded glorious and simplistic pop harmonies, Rostam opted for a more digital sound.  Contra did this while also staying true to the bands organic DIY style.  From a critics standpoint this time around, it was more of a Talking Heads 80s experiment than a Paul Simon one.  While Ezra remained a capable songwriter, he felt the liberty to have more fun with his vocal palette.  On Contra, the band expanded the vocal possibilities.  There was gibberish wailing on the standout track ‘White Sky’ and even distorted speed rap on the song ‘California English’; both came off as successful sonic endeavors.  Rostam mixed Ezra’s vocals beautifully, knowing exactly when to let his feral tendencies run wild and when to harness them into gorgeous vocal textures.  The winning team was making their pastime a thing of true art.  A tandem now responsible for writing two of the most significant indie records of the new era.  It seemed like a partnership that would yield classic tunes for years on end.

It initially seemed this way on the bands third LP Modern Vampires of the City.  A level of maturation some detractors never thought the band could reach was on full display on MVOC.  Rostam’s production (this time assisted by pop guru and future collaborator Ariel Rechtshaid) was darker and more experimental without losing a shred of accessibility.  Ezra’s lyrics were far more introspective, dealing with themes of faith, mortality, and Dying Young.  ‘Ya Hey’ is still the most ambitious undertaking of the bands career.  Coming off as an eerie baroque pop anthem marching its way through a catchy uneven time signature with huge heart and a singalong melody made the song a special moment in the storied bands catalog.  ‘Unbelievers’ is another one.  One the surface the song seems like your average guitar pop bop but Ezra’s lyrics about mortality and the seriousness behind it add an appropriate darkness that gives an upbeat song a human feel.  A feeling amplified and perfected on Hannah Hunt and Step.  The two best tracks in the bands discography.  The band hit full stride.  Headlined major festivals.  Won a Grammy.  All while remaining true to their sound they were able to solidify themselves as serious artists with a singular vision.  No longer prep school boys who create decent music by taking the best pieces of their influences and mashing them together, this was the sound of a band in total control of their past time. 

It went unsaid, but it was understood, and well deserved, that Vampire Weekend would be enjoying a hiatus after the success and laborious touring schedule surrounding Modern Vampires.  Even so, after the Grammy, the critical acclaim, the incredible sales numbers, something between the two main songwriters wasn’t right.  So even though the latest release solidified the bands immediate legacy Rostam decided to leave the band indefinitely.

“My identity as a songwriter + producer needs to stand on its own.” Read Rostam’s public statement.  The news instantly polarized fans.  Many, like myself, criticized Rostam for leaving a good thing, while coming off extremely pretentious and ungrateful.  The man is lucky enough to be cooped up in the most successful songwriting duo in modern day rock music, why would he feel unfulfilled achieving greatness in the setting of a great band? Why must his work stand outside the efforts of collaboration? Who does he think he is?

It was known that Rostam, the multi instrumental production guru was always responsible for the sound of Vampire Weekend, while Ezra supplied the lyrics.  The parting seemed amicable, but all in all it left the future of the band in a precarious situation.  What was Vampire Weekend without Rostam? That very question went years unanswered. 

But in the years since Rostam left Vampire Weekend, he has had limited success in finding any traction as a solo artist.  His best effort thus far has been a collaborative record with Hamilton Leithauser of the Walkmen.  A brilliant record full of the same elegant strings, organic drum sections, and blissful pianos that were similar to the ones that came to define the sound of Vampire Weekend.  Even so, it was still a behind the scenes production victory to add to his resume.  As a front man, Rostam hasn’t achieved the same success.  His debut album Half-Light, released in 2017 came and went without much of a peep from anyone.  Indie circles overlooked it, it didn’t have a repeatable single, the vocals were shaky at best, and it passed before the world knew it existed.  I think even I only gave it one listen.  Since then, Rostam has not been able to find his voice.  Whether or not he can be an important voice in pop music remains to be seen, the talent behind the boards is there but it’s time for him to realize what he can and cannot do.  It takes a necessary self awareness to know ones limitations in any job, in any past time.  A contact hitter who plays his role by getting on base doesn’t swing for the fences.  I believe Rostam’s ego and infatuation with being the front man took him away from his true self a bit. 

As Rostam struggled to find footing without the band, and as the years went on it seemed like Ezra was in the same boat.  Years went on without a whisper of any new music and people started to wonder that same question: What is Vampire Weekend without Ezra? and more pressingly: Can Ezra write a Vampire Weekend album without him?  The answer is both yes and no.

Enlisting in pop guru and Max Martin collaborator, Ezra and co. brought back Ariel Rechtshaid to give the band help in the production department.  Ezra also used his smarts to understand the best way to go about marketing the new album.  A record far more freewheeling than previous releases, Ezra became more eclectic than ever, and shared a plethora of wide-ranging singles way before the album was scheduled to drop. 

The 18 track record is noted for its fusion of nonchalant broad-ranging grooves and witty pop songs about love, summer days, locking hate at the gate, and a few morbid things as well.  Ariel creates a template of sunshine for Ezra to shine under, and the results are often satisfying.  While this new album won’t go down in history as an instant classic like its predecessor, it’s still hard to consider Father of the Bride to be anything but a monumental success.  Quality songs exist all through this thing that contain some of Ezra’s best wordplay.  An arena tour on the way, good new songs to play, and first week sales eclipsing 140k.  Say what you want about sales in today’s musical landscape, it’s impressive when a group of guys who still play guitars can sell 140k first week.  It’s special.  You would have a hard time listing bands that released their debut record after 2000 than can sell over 100k first week and sell out Madison Square Garden.  What Vampire Weekend has is special.  

Father of the Bride is the soundtrack to many good summer nights.  I’ve already heard cuts out on the streets of Asbury Park NJ, backyard cookouts, and New York City bars alike.  Can jam, car rides with the windows down, and poolside convos, Father of the Bride is a jubilant summer record that also has a thing or two you can learn from. 

It’s a wonder to me, knowing what he knows now, if Rostam would make the same decision all over again.  Joining a band is an American past time.  Playing in a band that influences the masses on a grand stage is special and should be cherished and appreciated as such.  Leaving such a beautiful situation seems hard to believe.  Ezra has proved himself to be just fine without him.  Rostam has time to blossom.  He is still young and has shown shades of greatness (the production on Frank Ocean’s Ivy is otherworldly) but that once again, is a highlight in music production.  Rostam, if you have a voice worth hearing, now is the time. 

[impishnature]

Roadtrip Shenanigans Part 2!

More headcanons! 8D All of them? Who knows ♥ Tag again for @garrulousgibberish and @howtotrainyournana *hugs*

- Ok first things first. Food. Who cooks? Gotta be some nights when they’re out in the middle of nowhere/can’t stop or just in general Ford vetoing eating out every night. Though they have to be careful and keep an eye on Mabel - she keeps trying to add ingredients when they’re not looking. (Mostly Stan because he’s found out that given the right wording Ford will agree to Mabel’s experiments.) Unfortunately, as Stan knows already from their sailing - Ford makes good food when he doesn’t get distracted by something more interesting than cooking. ...Lots of things are more interesting than cooking. It doesn’t take long into their first ‘no we’re not eating at a diner’ night for Ford to pop out of the RV with a sudden change of heart.  “You win. How about we eat out instead?” “Wait, what-” “No reason! I-I mean we are on holiday, after all... right?”  Stan doesn’t believe it for a second. He waits until the kids are asleep though to tease him. “So... no reason at all for going out for dinner tonight?” “Huh? No, I already said that. We- uhh- we deserved it-” “Uh-huh? So it had nothing at all to do with scribbling in your journal when you shouldn’t have been or something?” “...” (It was actually looking through the photos Dipper had got of the last cryptid they’d encountered but pointing that out would be a victory for Stan.) “So, how burnt was it exactly?” “Well, I think it could still be classed as edible but I thought the kids might not agree with- Stan, stop laughing! You’re gonna wake them!”

(Alternatively there is no conversation. Stan doesn’t realise. And instead the next morning there’s a confused Grunkle looking around the kitchenette. “Sixer? Where’s the pan?” “Pan? What pan?”)

Suffice to say - it might be safer if they don’t cook all that much. Or together. Together is good. You think they’d know that by now.

- Almost every possible seating arrangement = mayhem. ♥ Ford driving with Dipper sat next to him with the map seems like a winning combination if they’re both determined to get them to their destination. In fact they’re the best at navigating and keeping to Ford’s route (though Stan and Mabel would disagree on this being a good outcome). But the problem is that the other two sat behind them go out of their way to be the biggest distraction they can be- or in which Stan will do anything Mabel asks without hesitation. ♥ Ford driving with Mabel’s map skills also works for a time- but Mabel is more likely to point out interesting things that catch her eye instead of the turns their meant to be taking quite early on, or start chattering away to Ford about something completely different and just add on a ‘oh, that was the turning’ after the fact.  ♥ Stan driving with Mabel leads to really out of the way stops when Mabel points out places on the map nearby that make them curious and Stan turns the RV around without a thought. This gets worse and more deliberate if the nerdy chatter from Ford and Dipper behind them gets too much for them. They may or may not make it into a game at those points to see how long it takes for one of the two in their excitement notices they’re no longer on route. ♥ Stan driving with Dipper actually works out better than most of the above. Though that all depends on Stan listening to Dipper and not just doing what he fancies doing instead. And that usually depends on how rigidly they’ve been following Ford’s route up until that point. He’s got to stick to that goal after all. ♥ Ford driving with Stan throughout the day doesn’t really work either. As soon as the kids distract Stan (almost instantly) he stops helping out with the map. Stan driving with Ford telling him where to go also quickly breaks down into Stan coming up with arguments for amazing diversions nearby instead of doing as he’s told. ♥ The only times it’s not mayhem would probably be when the kids are asleep or just starting to drift off. Ford behind the wheel and Stan softly chattering to get the kids to sleep and to keep Ford awake. He keeps them on track then, it’s easier (and probably safer). Just peaceful moments when Stan’s too tired to push Ford’s buttons. The whirlwinds are finally crashing out and whenever Ford glances over Stan’s staring back into the RV with a soppy smile on his face watching the little terrors finally wear themselves out. ...Ford most definitely teases him for looking so sappy in those moments. Stan can’t quite bring himself to argue, settling for a ‘like you’re any different’.

- Matching roadtrip sweaters! Mabel makes them on the first day and dons one instantly with Ford following suit. Dipper and Stan try but they can’t wear them for long- it’s just too warm in the little space. Dipper may or may not write down a journal entry on how his sis and Grunkle can stand to be that warm, it’s just not right. (How do they do it? Another Pines family mystery!) Mabel might also make sweaters for the end of the trip too - each with a unique design as a reminder of different things each family member did.

- They pick up obnoxious bumper stickers wherever they end up. Two of course - one for the RV and one for the scrapbook Mabel’s making.  “So we got this sticker while we were being chased by the griffon, and this one when we accidentally stumbled into a fairy ring...’ Every single sticker has a story and everyone bar the Pines worries that they are weirdness magnets because how on earth do you fill up a scrapbook of different cryptids of one road trip how.

- There are also a lot of candid photos in the scrapbook. Singalongs and silly soppy smiles when they think the others aren’t looking. Proper all out laughter and leaning on one another to stay upright. Passionate arm waving and excited conversations. Half asleep confusion and pranking one another. So. Many. Candids. All the happy fun times, all the infectious glee and bright eyed happiness.

- The kids have to bring their homework with them - parents orders. And Ford tries to make sure they get it out of the way early whereas Stan thinks they should leave it til the end.  Ford wins. Ford therefore gets the job of helping while Stan drives. ...Stan shouts out the answer from the front when they’ve been puzzling over it for too long. 

- Stan tries to use Stanbucks wherever they go even though they have money to spare. Ford can’t decide if it’s ridiculous or impressive. “They have you face on them!” ...He never knows quite what to think when Stan succeeds.

- It’s not until they reach Gravity Falls that they hit a snag that really should have come up at the beginning of the journey. Our favourite Gravity Falls sheriff and deputy pull them over as soon as they realise it’s the Pines family driving into town. Ford doesn’t know it’s them. Ford has a sudden realisation. “Shi- Stan, if they ask- you were driving.” “What? Sixer? Why-” “I’ll explain later!” “No, nonono, you explain now. I have been letting you drive because you told me you knew how!” “I do know how! But that doesn’t mean I exactly stayed anywhere long enough to need to prove that!” “Oh for the love of - really, Ford? Really?” “What? It was just another skill I picked up while I was running from Bill.” “...Have you ever gotten a license? In any dimension?” “What part of on the run did you not get?”

- Stan still lets him help drive back after the trip to Gravity Falls. He doesn’t really care that much, he’d just have liked to know before he let Ford take the wheel. He just hopes the kids parents don’t find out.

- The trip ends just as it started, with the kids back home. The close quarters got a bit too close at points but, it was a good trip, another Pines family adventure and they kind of don’t want things to go back to normal just yet.  It’s the end of summer all over again. But... “Hey, don’t give me those sad looks. You can always video call us, you know that.” “Yeah! And besides, next time you’ll just have to come on a boat trip with us, now won’t you?” After all, there’s always a next time. A new adventure waiting.