#desert twins part 4

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt.4)

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Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part five

CW: feminine drow reader, catching feelings (involuntarily), mention of blood, open wounds, transformation, this is all my own interpretation of drow lore

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The library of House Baenre was a vast labyrinth of knowledge, its towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and forbidden texts. The dim light of nearby luminescent fungi filtered through the high windows, casting a fluorescent glow across the room. It was well past midnight, and the library was usually deserted at this hour. Yet tonight, two figures—Kyorlin and Lesaonar—were engaged in a quiet conversation, their voices hushed as they wandered among the stacks.

Arys, Minthara’s nephew, had been tasked with getting closer to the Liakyre twins, to then ply them for information about their older sister. When he saw them alone in the library, he thanked Lolth and seized the opportunity. He was not going ot fail the Matron.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Arys greeted with a grin, holding up a bottle of whiskey. The soft clink of glass against glass as he walked drew their attention.

The twins turned to face him, their expressions shifting from surprise to cautious interest. Arys approached, the whiskey bottle held out as an offering.

“A little late-night libation?” he suggested, his tone friendly. “I figured it might be nice to have a drink and chat." He then leaned towards them and dropped into a low conspiratol tone "Us men have to stick together after all.”

Kyorlin and Lesaonar exchanged weary glances, they had been cautious around the other members of House Baenre, they knew it was safer to keep quiet and out of the way, but then again an ally could never hurt. So, they nodded in agreement.

The three of them settled into comfortable chairs near a low table, the bottle of whiskey opened and poured into goblets. The rich, amber liquid swirled gently in the dim light. The initial awkwardness of their meeting quickly dissipated as the warmth of the whiskey took effect. As they drank, the conversation turned to their experiences in House Baenre. The twins seemed eager to share their thoughts and Arys smiled, this is exactly what he wanted.

“You know, Arys,” Lesaonar began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “we actually get treated better here than we ever did back in House Liakyre. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

Arys raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? I’d have thought House Baenre would be far more… intense for you guys. ”

“Oh, it is intense,” Kyorlin admitted with a laugh, “I can imagine that without our dear sister's protection here we would already be dead by now. But back at Liakyre, the female members—sisters, aunts, cousins—were always picking on us, bullying us. Here, they don’t even bother with us. It’s like we’re invisible, which, honestly, is a very nice change.”

Lesaonar nodded in agreement. “The libraries here are amazing, too. We were never allowed such access to resources back at our old house. We weren't deemed worthy enough. This-" Lesaonar gestured to the towers of books around them "-Is a whole new world.”

Arys chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I always thought the Liakyres were a soft house, that you boys would have got off lightly, maybe even have a few third sons kicking about. You weren't exactly high up in the ranks.”

“You would think that,” Kyorlin said, taking a sip of his drink. “But our matron- mother, even, was dilligent. Brutally so, a devout and traditional follower of Lolth. I personally believe she was delighted when she had twin boys, it meant that she was able to sacrifice every son born after us - and she did. It got to a point where she was praying for boys, just so she could make a show of her love to Lolth.”

Arys’s curiosity was piqued. “What about your sister, Y/N? I've heard she is a dedicated follower of Lolth, is she like your mother?”

Lesaonar’s expression softened slightly, a hint of fondness in his eyes. “No, she isn’t, at all. Y/N was actually the kindest of them all. Her love for Lolth is natural, our mother's was desperate."

"She despised Y/N for it, often sent her off to darkest parts of the underdark, hoping she would never come back, but she always did." Kyorlin said with a light smile, as if reminscing on a funny memory.

"Just because of her connection with Lolth? Or because of what she did at the engagement party with that hook horror?" Arys pressed and he noticed Kyorlin visisbly tense.

Lesaonar, however, had been swept away by the whiskey's effects and before Kyorlin could stop him, words tumbled from his mouth and he gestured with a dramatic flair. "Of course, she was envious that Y/N was such an emblem of our divine heritage-"

"-That is quite enough for tonight!" Kyorlin interrupted his twin, snatching his drink from him. Arys smiled, he was clearly on to something and Lesaonar had let enough information slip for him to get the Matron off of his back. Kyorlin helped Lesaonar to his feet and turned curtly to Arys. "Thank you, Arys, tonight has been a pleasure but I fear the whiskey has gone to my brother's head."

"Worry not, we are going to be family in a few days. Been a pleasure to get to know the both of you." Arys nodded to them as they left, he had all that he needed.

After a celebratory drink for himself, Arys made his way out of the library, the bottle of whiskey nearly empty and a satisfied smirk on his face. He had successfully gleaned useful information from Kyorlin and Lesaonar, and he was eager to report back to Minthara.

As he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoed faintly against the stone walls. He was so focused on his pride that he barely noticed the soft patter of footsteps behind him.

Suddenly, Kyorlin appeared out of nowhere, his expression grim and his movements quick. Without warning, Kyorlin swung a heavy book from a nearby shelf at Arys. The blow caught Arys off guard, sending him crashing to the floor. The sharp impact of the blow to his head caused a burst of pain and disorientation. Blood trickled from the wound on his forehead, staining the stone floor and before Arys could react, the darkness enveloped him, and he lost consciousness.

When Arys came to, he was lying on a cot in the infirmary of House Baenre, wounded guards and soldiers lay groaning around him, most wounds probably inflicted by the women of the house. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and a warm, sticky sensation on his face alerted him to a trickle of blood running from a cut above his eyebrow. He struggled to sit up, disoriented and confused.

A healer, an elderly female drow, most likely a great great aunt of his, with a stern expression, stood over him, her hands deftly applying a cool compress to his head. Her eyes were narrowed in disapproval.

“Careless fool,” she muttered, her voice stern and authoritative. “Getting drunk in the library and falling over. You’re lucky those Liakyre twins found you before anyone else did.”

Arys blinked, trying to piece together the events leading up to his current predicament. “The twins? Kyorlin and Lesaonar?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

The healer nodded curtly. “Yes, they found you lying on the floor of the library. They brought you here and took care of you. I must say, you’re fortunate they were able to intervene before more serious harm occurred."

Arys's mind raced as he tried to remember what had happened, but his memory was hazy. The events from the library, the conversation with Kyorlin and Lesaonar, and the details about Y/N seemed to be slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Did-did they say anything important?” he asked, his anxiety growing.

The healer gave him a puzzled look. “They didn’t mention much. Kyorlin said something about you getting drunk and falling, but he didn’t elaborate."

Frustrated and disoriented, Arys tried to recall the conversation with the twins, but the details eluded him. The whiskey had clearly affected his memory, as had the fall and he felt a pang of frustration and fear that he would not be able to report anything to his aunt. The wedding was only a few nights away and if he hadn't brought any useful information to the Matron by then, then he was sure that his own mother would sacrifice him and offer him as a wedding gift to the couple.

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The grand hall of House Baenre was abuzz with the preparations for the grand ceremony tomorrow. The space, with its opulent drow architecture, was being meticulously fussed over for the upcoming wedding by an array of servants and lower family members keen to rise through the familial ranks. The rehearsal, a necessary formality, was underway with the High Priestess presiding over the proceedings, while you and Minthara stood side by side, ready to go through the motions of the ceremony.

Minthara’s posture was relaxed but betrayed an evident lack of interest. She leaned against a stone column, her expression bored, and her eyes glazed over as the High Priestess explained the order of the ceremony.

“The ceremony will commence with a prayer to Lolth, invoking her blessings and ensuring her favor upon this union,” she explained, her voice echoing in the cavernous hall. “This will be followed by the binding blood vow, where both parties pledge their eternal commitment.”

Minthara’s eyes glazed over further, clearly disinterested, though she nodded occasionally, if only to maintain the pretense of attentiveness.

“The next step,” the High Priestess continued, her tone unwavering, “is the cutting off of the House Liakyre symbol from your body, Y/N, and its replacement with the House Baenre symbol, on your neck to match Minthara's."

You shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the tattoo removal and couldn't help but notice that Minthara's interest piqued at the mention of it, a small smile appearing on her lips. She would be the one to slice it from your skin, and brand you with your new House mark. The thought of losing a symbol so deeply connected to your identity was unsettling, as was the nausea that came with it, though you tried to push the unease aside.

At this point, now teased with more exciting matters, Minthara’s usual veneer of control slipped slightly. Her lips curled into a subtle snarl. “And what about the toast?”

The High Priestess’s eyes narrowed slightly at Minthara’s interruption but she continued as if unaffected. “After the new tattoo is applied, there will be a toast, followed by the banquet. The drinks served to you will contain Menzoberranzan love magic, ensuring the bonding process expected later in the night is completed effectively.”

Both you and Minthara stiffened at the High Priestess’s words. Minthara’s expression transformed from irritation to shock, her eyes wide with outrage. You, too, were taken aback by the unexpected and rather vulgar revelation. The thought of a magical enhancement to facilitate intimacy was not something either of you had anticipated.

“This is absurd!” Minthara’s voice was sharp, betraying her anger. “You can’t be serious. This is an outrage.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Yes, this is crossing a line!”

The High Priestess raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your reactions. “Grow up, both of you. It’s merely a ritualistic practice to ensure the union is properly sealed. It is in the privacy of your own quarters and it’s just sex—nothing more, though if it is something more then all the better for House Baenre.”

"As if." "I would rather turn into a drider."

“Enough,” the High Priestess said, her voice cutting through the tension. “The ceremony is tomorrow. You both need to rest and prepare yourselves. This rehearsal is over.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and began to walk away, her robes trailing behind her like a flowing river of crimson. You crossed your arms looking up at Minthara with a scowl, Minthara scoffed, putting her hands on her hips.

The High Priestess’s dismissive attitude only fueled your outrage and frustration. As she swept away, her crimson robes flowing like a river of silk, you turned to Minthara, who stood with her arms crossed and a scowl etched into her features. The air between you was charged with tension, every word an electric spark.

Minthara’s frustration burst forth like a dam breaking. “This is all your fault. I could have just obliterated your entire house and been done with it, but no, you had to sneak away and find some ethereal loophole. You’ve dragged me into this farce of a wedding.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Minthara,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s my fault you were too blinded by your own bloodlust to consider there might be other options. I had no idea I was dealing with someone who thought slaughtering my entire house was a viable solution.”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her irritation barely contained. “You think this is funny? This wedding, this ceremony—everything about it is a nightmare. And it’s all because of your stubbornness and your insipid refusal to accept reality.”

“Reality?” you countered sharply. “You know, for someone who claims to be so powerful, the mightiest in Menzoberranzen, you sure do complain a lot.”

The argument continued as you both stormed down the corridors of House Baenre, your footsteps echoing off the cold, dark stone walls. Minthara’s heels clicked furiously against the ground, each step a testament to her frustration. You matched her pace, your own anger simmering as you exchanged barbed comments.

“If you had any sense of responsibility, you’d have thought this through before you dragged me into your mess,” Minthara snapped.

“And if you had any sense of decency, you wouldn’t have murdered my entire family, forcing my hand.” you shot back, the words barely hiding your exasperation.

The quarrel continued unabated as you reached the separate quarters designated for the night. As was traditional, the night before the wedding required that you both sleep apart, a formality steeped in ancient customs. The thought of having to spend the night without Minthara’s presence was both frustrating and unsettling.

As you reached the door to your quarters, Minthara stopped abruptly, facing you with a final scowl. “Enjoy your night alone. Maybe you’ll finally get some clarity on how you’ve managed to make everything worse.”

“And you, Minthara,” you replied, “try not to let the weight of your own bitterness crush you before the ceremony.”

With a final huff, Minthara pushed past you and slammed her door shut with a resounding thud. You watched the door close, the sound reverberating through the corridor.

You turned and entered your own quarters, the room meticulously prepared with fine furnishings and dark, rich drapery. You paced the room restlessly, your anger giving way to an unsettling sense of emptiness.

Lying on the bed, you stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of the looming ceremony. The more you tried to focus on anything but Minthara, the more her absence became a palpable void. The bed felt too large, the space too empty.

Meanwhile, in her own quarters, Minthara was equally restless. She paced her room, the luxurious furnishings and the meticulously arranged décor doing little to soothe her frayed nerves. The silence of her room was as unnerving as it was lonely. You weren't muttering your prayers, indulging in an absurdly long night time routine. Despite her irritation, she couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something—or rather, someone.

Eventually, both of you found yourselves lying awake in your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, the quiet of the night amplifying your thoughts and frustrations. The realization dawned that despite the heated bickering, there was a certain sense of connection and familiarity that had been strangely comforting. The absence of that presence was felt deeply, and meditation eluded both of you as you grappled with your thoughts.

The night had dragged on with restless thoughts and a growing sense of unease. Exhaustion finally overcame you, and you slipped into a meditative trance, hoping for some respite before the impending ceremony. In the quiet of the room, you found a semblance of peace, the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath guiding you towards a state of calm.

Just as you were beginning to drift into a deeper state of relaxation, the serenity was shattered by the loud creak of your door. You jolted awake, blinking against the sudden influx of light and noise. The door swung open to reveal a flurry of movement as a group of young girls, no older than fourteen or fifteen, stormed into the room. Their chatter and giggles filled the air, a cacophony of youthful exuberance that was anything but peaceful.

The girls, dressed in colorful and somewhat mismatched garments, scattered around the room, dropping various items on the floor and chattering excitedly. They carried brushes, jars of oils, and an assortment of fabric, which they began to arrange haphazardly around the room.

Kyorlin and Lesaonar entered behind them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. You looked at them, bewildered.

“By the demon's web, what is going on?” you demanded, struggling to sit up against the tangle of blankets and pillows.

The twins exchanged glances before Kyorlin shrugged nonchalantly. “We have no idea. We were just told to bring them to you.”

One of the servants who had entered with the girls stepped forward, offering an apologetic smile. “As Matron Baenre understands that you have no female relatives to assist you, she has sent these girls to help you get ready for the ceremony. It’s her way of ensuring you’re properly prepared.”

The realization hit you like a cold wave. This was no act of kindness or generosity; it was a clear attempt to pass off the unruly young girls onto you, so the Matron wouldn’t have to deal with them herself. It was a tactical move, a way of keeping them out of her hair while she focused on her own preparations.

The girls, oblivious to your annoyance, began to tug at your sleep garments and hair, their energy boundless. They giggled and chatted as they pulled at your clothes, chattering about hairstyles and makeup, their fingers too eager and too rough. It was clear that their idea of assistance was more chaotic than helpful.

Feeling a mix of frustration and desperation, you turned to Kyorlin and Lesaonar. “Can you two perhaps go and pray for me in the chapel? It seems I could use some divine intervention right now.”

Kyorlin and Lesaonar looked at each other, a smirk playing on their lips as they took in the scene before them.

“Pray for you?” Lesaonar echoed with a grin. “Or pray for a miracle to get us out of this madness?”

Kyorlin’s expression softened slightly. “We’ll go,” he said with a chuckle. “It seems like you could use some peace and quiet. We'll see you at the ceremony, dear sister.”

With that, they exited the room, leaving you to the chaotic whirlwind of young girls. As they bustled around you, their laughter and chatter gradually began to fade into the background of your mind. You were left to endure their relentless enthusiasm, trying to stay calm despite the overwhelming noise and activity.

The young girls swarmed around you with a flurry of questions, their voices rising in a cheerful, chaotic crescendo. They seemed to have no sense of personal space, their faces close to yours as they eagerly awaited your responses. You could barely keep up with their rapid-fire inquiries as they tugged at your garments and pushed various accessories into your hands.

“Where’s your wedding dress?” one of them asked, her eyes wide with excitement as she peered into the open wardrobe.

“How are you going to style your hair?” another chimed in, her fingers already brushing through your locks with the kind of enthusiasm that only a young girl could muster.

“Are you going to fight anyone during the ceremony?” asked a third, her face a mix of curiosity and awe.

“Are you going to use your powers?” the last girl queried, her eyes sparkling with a blend of admiration and anticipation.

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure amidst the whirlwind of questions.

“My dress is being prepared by the seamstresses. As for my hair, well, I haven’t quite decided yet. I might leave it to the skilled hands of you young ladies.” You glanced at the older girls who were already starting to work on your hair, their excitement palpable. “And no, there won’t be any fighting during the ceremony. It’s all about unity and devotion. As for my powers, they’re not really part of the ceremony. They’re something I reserve for more pressing matters.”

The girls seemed somewhat satisfied with your answers, but their curiosity remained unabated. Their chatter continued, and you could see their faces lighting up with interest. In an effort to calm the scene and make the best of the situation, you decided to offer them a distraction.

“You know,” you began, your tone shifting to one of storytelling, “since you’re all so eager to know about me, how about I tell you a story while you do my hair?”

The girls’ eyes widened with delight, and they all gathered closer, their attention now fully focused on you allowing the older girls to work on your hair with less chaos.

“Alright, let me tell you about the time I had to go to the surface.” You began, weaving your tale with an air of intrigue.

“It was years ago,” you continued, “when I was sent on a mission to the surface world. Everyone says the surface is a terrible place, filled with danger and discomfort, and I’ll admit, I had my doubts. The light up there—oh, it’s so harsh and blinding compared to our soft, ambient glow. And the air, so dry and warm. It felt like walking through a blazing inferno.”

The girls gasped, clearly captivated by your description. One of them, with wide eyes, asked, “Was it as bad as they say it is?”

You nodded solemnly. “At first, it was overwhelming. The sun burned my skin, and I had to be careful not to let the light blind me. The surface world is a place of harsh contrasts compared to the Underdark. But I managed to survive by staying in the shadows as much as possible and using my knowledge of the surface’s geography to navigate through it. It’s a different kind of danger, one that requires patience and cunning.”

Another girl, clearly intrigued, asked, “How did you manage to stay safe?”

“I had to be very cautious,” you explained. “I used cloaking spells to hide from prying eyes and relied on my wits to avoid the more dangerous creatures of the surface. I even learned a few tricks to blend in with the surface-dwellers, though that wasn’t always easy. The key was to adapt and use every bit of knowledge I had to my advantage.”

The girls listened intently, their previous frenzy momentarily forgotten as they absorbed your tale. Their hands worked diligently through your hair, carefully arranging it as they listened to your story with rapt attention.

“So, you survived all of that?” one of them asked, awe in her voice.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a nod. “And I returned with a deeper understanding of the surface world. It’s not as simple as the stories make it out to be, but it’s not entirely the nightmare some say it is either. It’s a world full of challenges, but also of opportunities.”

The girls exchanged impressed glances, clearly impressed by your resilience and resourcefulness. Their chatter slowed as they focused on their task, and you could see the newfound respect in their eyes.

As the girls finished arranging your hair, their lively chatter slowly faded, replaced by a more subdued and focused energy. The transformation in the room was palpable; the earlier chaos had been replaced by an air of contented productivity.

Just then, a servant entered the room, carrying a beautifully wrapped bundle. The girls’ eyes immediately widened with curiosity, and they gathered around the servant as he carefully unwrapped the bundle to reveal your wedding dress.

A collective gasp of admiration escaped from the girls as they saw the dress. They circled around it, their faces lit up with awe and delight. “Oh, it’s so beautiful!” one of them exclaimed, her voice full of wonder.

“It looks so elegant!” another girl chimed in, her eyes sparkling.

Their enthusiastic reactions warmed your heart. It was clear that they were genuinely impressed, and it was a comforting change from the earlier frustration and chaos. You couldn’t help but smile at their genuine appreciation, feeling a sense of connection with these young, spirited girls.

The servant, noticing the girls’ fascination, cleared his throat to get their attention. “Ladies, you need to leave now. We have other preparations to attend to, and you must be ready to greet the guests soon.”

The girls, though reluctant, knew better than to argue. They cast one last longing look at the dress before reluctantly shuffling toward the door. “We’ll miss you!” one of them said, her voice tinged with sadness.

“See you at the ceremony!” another added, giving you a bright smile before exiting the room.

Once they were gone, the room seemed quieter, their youthful energy having left an almost palpable mark. You stood by the mirror, taking in your reflection. The sense of camaraderie you had shared with the girls lingered, making you feel unexpectedly lighter.

Now the girls were gone, the servant held the dress up to you. "It is time."

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The grand hall of House Baenre was a magnificent spectacle of dark elegance. The rich crimson and obsidian banners draped from the walls, their opulent fabric catching the flickering light of the many torches. A hushed reverence hung in the air, only heightened by the murmurs of the elite of Menzoberranzan who had gathered to witness the grand wedding ceremony.

At the altar, Minthara stood like a figure from a dark legend. She was clad in her ceremonial regalia—a striking blend of armor and finery that showcased her status and power. Her dress was an elaborate piece of art, a seamless fusion of practicality and splendor. The armor was adorned with intricate patterns of red and black, the colors of House Baenre, and it accentuated her commanding presence. The armor, polished to a high sheen, caught the light in a way that emphasized her formidable and fierce demeanor.

Minthara’s light purple skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric of her attire, giving her an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance. Her white hair was styled meticulously, cascading in silken waves down her back and framing her sharp, striking features. The house Baenre sigil was emblazoned across her neck in a bold tattoo, a mark of her dominance and heritage. It was impossible to ignore the intense gaze she cast over the assembled guests, a mix of pride and cold calculation in her eyes.

The High Priestess and the acolyte stood beside Minthara at the altar, both figures imposing in their own right. The High Priestess, with her elaborate robes of dark violet and silver, held a commanding presence that matched the gravity of the occasion. Her ornate staff, topped with a symbol of Lolth, rested beside her, its presence a reminder of the divine power that governed the ceremony.

The guests—elite members of Menzoberranzan society—filled the seats, their whispers creating a low murmur of anticipation. They were the crème de la crème of drow society, their attire as elaborate as the occasion demanded. The front row was reserved for your family, though it was glaringly empty apart from Kyorlin and Lesaonar.

The moment arrived with the soft sound of the chamber doors opening, revealing you in all your ceremonial splendor. The room fell into an awed silence as you began your walk up the aisle, every step measured and graceful, drawing the collective gaze of the assembly.

You were enveloped in a dress that seemed to transcend mortal craftsmanship. The fabric, a delicate blend of shimmering silk and ethereal spiderweb patterns, clung to your form with an almost otherworldly elegance. It was as though Lolth herself had spun a cocoon around you, the silk’s iridescent sheen reflecting the candlelight and casting a faint, ghostly glow around you. The dress flowed behind you like a silken waterfall, trailing behind you in a whisper of movement that seemed both fluid and majestic.

Your hair was styled with meticulous precision, two sharp curls cascaded down the sides of your face. These curled strands were reminiscent of spider pincers, framing your features in a way that emphasized your otherworldly beauty. The rest of your hair was pulled back, accentuating the intricate work of the dress and the delicate silver adornments that accentuated your collarbone.

Silver spider legs were strategically placed along your body, their intricate design accentuating the curves and lines of your form. Two legs arched beneath your collarbone, glinting subtly as they caught the light. Another set adorned the curve of your bust, emphasizing the elegance of your silhouette, while additional sets traced your hips and thighs, creating a cascading effect that drew the eye and added a touch of both elegance and danger.

The glossy finish of your makeup made your red eyes stand out with a fierce intensity, their piercing gaze capturing the attention of everyone present.

As you made your way up the aisle, Minthara’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in a mixture of awe and admiration, her typically composed demeanor momentarily faltering as she took in the sight of you. You looked like a divine gift from Lolth herself, a vision of beauty and power that left her momentarily breathless.

Your approach was marked by the soft, almost melodic swish of your dress and the respectful silence of the assembled guests. Minthara’s eyes followed you with an intensity that spoke of both reverence and longing, her own fierce beauty momentarily overshadowed by your ethereal presence.

The High Priestess and the acolyte observed the entrance with approving nods, the former's stern expression softening just a fraction. The ceremony had now reached its pinnacle, with you as the centerpiece, a radiant embodiment of Lolth’s favor.

The grand hall was bathed in the flickering glow of countless candles, their flames dancing in the hushed reverence of the ceremony. With a solemn nod, the High Priestess raised her arms, her voice resonating through the hall as she began the ancient prayer to Lolth. The chant was a haunting melody, woven with words of devotion and supplication, invoking the favor of the Spider Queen upon the union about to be sealed.

You stood beside Minthara, your gaze fixed ahead, though you could feel her intense stare burning into you. A slight, almost imperceptible smile touched your lips as you tried to maintain your composure under the weight of her scrutiny.

The High Priestess concluded the prayer and turned her attention to the next phase of the ceremony: the binding blood vow. The acolyte stepped forward, presenting a ceremonial dagger with an ornate hilt. The dagger’s blade glinted ominously in the candlelight as it was passed to the High Priestess.

The High Priestess took the dagger and approached you. With precise, practiced movements, she made a shallow cut on your palm, the pain sharp but brief. The blood that welled up was immediately captured by the High Priestess, who then turned to Minthara. She made a similar incision on Minthara’s palm.

The words of the vow began to echo through the hall, the High Priestess guiding you both as you repeated the ancient promises of loyalty to each other and to House Baenre. You vowed not only your fidelity to the house but also a solemn promise to never bring harm to each other, pledging to protect and uphold the sanctity of your union.

As you spoke the words, you noticed a sudden and alarming change in Minthara’s demeanor - and not just the grimace from swearing she would never be able to bring harm against you. Her face grew pale, and a look of weakness and disorientation crossed her features. It was as if a wave of illness had washed over her, and she swayed slightly on her feet.

Instinctively, you reached out and grasped Minthara’s hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. The mingling of your blood, open wound on open wound, had an immediate effect. Minthara’s pallor quickly faded, and her strength seemed to return as the warmth of her body stabilized.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the acolyte’s face. There was a momentary flicker of something sinister in her expression before they quickly masked it with a neutral demeanor. You gripped Minthara's hand reassuringly, but were just met with her narrowed accusatory eyes, whatever had just happened was evidenlty your fault somehow.

The ceremony continued, with the High Priestess’s gaze flickering between you and Minthara, noting the strange turn of events but choosing to proceed with the rites regardless, you believe she was just happy that you both made it there alive. Your shared blood dripped from each other's palms, landing in the alter below, as it fell it pooled and spread into Lolth's insignia, a sign of approval.

After what felt like an age the binding blood vow was complete, a rush of sharp magic danced across each of your palms as you flinched away from each other, only to realise your wounds had both been healed. Servants attended to you both, ensuring that you were cleaned up and presentable.

"Now, for Y/N Liakyre to shed herself from the past, and embrace her new future as Mistress Y/N Baenre, Wife of Matron Minthara Baenre." The high priestess announced and an involuntary shiver racked through you, you were not looking forward to this. Mainly as Minthara would be the one slicing your beloved House mark from your skin, and considering she thought you just tried to poison her, you were certain she was going to be anything but quick about it.

The ceremony continued with a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air. The High Priestess’s announcement rang out clearly, declaring the next phase of the ritual. “Now, for Y/N Liakyre to shed herself from the past and embrace her new future as Mistress Y/N Baenre, Wife of Matron Minthara Baenre.”

A shiver ran through you, a blend of apprehension and anticipation. You knew what was coming—Minthara, the one you were still getting to know, would be the one to remove your house sigil. The thought of her performing this act, particularly under the shadow of the recent incident, filled you with unease. You had braced yourself for an uncomfortable ordeal, expecting the worst given the tension between you.

To your surprise, however, Minthara approached you with an unexpected gentleness. Her eyes, though guarded, were soft as she prepared to perform the task. The intricate dagger she held, - her personal favourite, you noted - glinted ominously in the candlelight, but her touch was surprisingly delicate.

Minthara’s hand was steady as she positioned the blade near your wrist. Her fingers, though firm, were careful as they traced the outline of your House Liakyre sigil. You felt the cold metal of the dagger as it made contact with your skin, but instead of the anticipated pain, her movements were precise and controlled. There was an almost reassuring quality to her touch.

As the blade began its work, Minthara leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your ear. “I will make this as swift and painless as possible,” she murmured, her voice a low whisper that carried both assurance and an unexpected tenderness.

The edge of the dagger sliced through the skin with an efficiency that took you by surprise. Despite the sting of the incision, Minthara’s soft praise was oddly comforting.

Once the sigil was completely severed from your skin, Minthara gripped the wound with one hand, her touch surprisingly soothing. You could feel the warmth of her magic as she began the healing process. The sensation of her healing spell was like a gentle wave washing over you, numbing the pain and closing the wound.

As the healing magic worked, Minthara's other hand moved to your neck. With a deliberate, yet gentle motion, she traced the Baenre sigil onto your skin. Her touch was careful and meticulous, her nail guiding the sigil’s shape with an almost artistic precision. The sensation was both hot and cold—a duality that made you wince but also marvel at the intensity of the moment.

The sigil burned into your skin with a searing warmth, and you could not help but flinch slightly, even though you tried to remain still. Minthara’s face was close to yours, her gaze intense as she focused on her task. When she finished, she inspected the mark closely, her expression a blend of satisfaction and relief.

As she pulled away, your eyes locked with hers, and in that moment, something shifted between you. You hadn't realised it but you were holding her hand that she had just healed you with, a connection that felt both intimate and profound. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming, a sudden, unspoken understanding passing between the both of you.

Before you could act on the impulse, the High Priestess’s voice cut through the charged silence. “Now that the mark is complete,” she announced with a tone of finality, “let us proceed with the final rites of the ceremony. The toast.”

The intrusion of the High Priestess’s voice shattered the moment, and you and Minthara were abruptly reminded of the ritualistic nature of the event. You quickly withdrew your hand from Minthara’s, trying to steady your breathing and regain composure. Minthara cleared her throat as if she had not been victim to the same fleeting feelings as you.

As you and Minthara turned toward the altar, the final stage of the ceremony was upon you: the toast. The High Priestess, with a solemn expression, raised her goblet high and addressed the assembly with practiced grace.

“Let us now toast to the union of House Baenre and their newest member, Mistress Y/N Baenre. May this bond be as strong as the webs spun by Lolth herself, and may their loyalty to each other and to House Baenre be unwavering.”

The audience responded with elated cheers, their eyes fixed on you and Minthara. The atmosphere was thick with expectation as the High Priestess gestured for you both to take your goblets.

You and Minthara exchanged a knowing glance, your previous unspoken connection now tempered by the ceremonial formalities. The goblets, adorned with intricate patterns and filled with a dark, almost ominous liquid, were a focal point of the final rite. The contents imbued with Menzoberranzan love magic.

Minthara’s lips curled into a smirk as she looked at you, her eyes gleaming with challenge. She lifted her goblet, her movements deliberate and poised, and with a defiant glint in her eye, she downed the contents in one swift motion. The crowd watched in anticipation, their cheers momentarily hushed as they awaited your response.

You met her smirk with a challenging look of your own. Taking a deep breath, you raised your own goblet, feeling the weight of the ritual and the gaze of the onlookers. With a final, resolute glance at Minthara, you followed suit and drank the contents in one go. The liquid slid down your throat, its taste oddly unremarkable despite the grandiose of its magical properties.

As the last drop of the goblet was consumed, a cheer erupted from the audience, their enthusiasm a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered between you and Minthara. The High Priestess’s face remained inscrutable as she nodded in approval, and the formalities of the ceremony drew to a close.

In a moment of shared understanding, you leaned in toward Minthara, and she responded with a confident yet tender kiss. The crowd’s cheers swelled, their applause growing louder as the kiss deepened. It was a brief but meaningful display of unity, a symbolic gesture that marked the beginning of your life together. As you both pulled away, your eyes locked, the tension of the earlier ceremony now mingled with the thrill of the new chapter ahead.

With a nod to each other, Minthara took your hand and led you towards the grand banquet hall. The room was adorned with opulent decorations, the feast laid out on long tables that gleamed with silver and crystal. The air was filled with the rich scents of exotic dishes and the buzz of conversation.

As you entered the hall, your gaze fell upon your brothers, who were seated among the guests. They caught your eye and offered you warm smiles, their faces reflecting a genuine sense of pride and joy. The sight was reassuring, a small island of familiarity amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Nearby, the young girls who had helped you earlier were eagerly waving at you from their seats. You smiled back at them and gave a playful wave, their excitement evident as they responded with enthusiastic giggles and cheers. It was a comforting sight, a reminder of the bonds you had managed to forge even in the midst of such a formal and intimidating occasion.

Minthara led you to the head of the banquet hall, where a line of guests was already forming to offer their congratulations and present you with gifts. The well-wishers approached one by one, each one bowing respectfully and offering their tributes. The atmosphere was filled with a blend of festivity and formality, the air thick with the scent of rich foods and the murmur of polite conversation.

Amid the bustling crowd, you noticed that the acolyte from the ceremony had slipped away from the banquet. A sense of unease prickled at the back of your mind, and you excused yourself from the line of well-wishers with a polite but hurried apology.

“I must give my thanks to Lolth for the ceremony,” you said, your voice steady but urgent. “I will be back shortly.”

Minthara gave you a curious look but nodded in understanding. “Don’t be long,” she instructed, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

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You made your way swiftly to the chapel, the grand archways and shadowed corners of the sacred space offering a stark contrast to the celebratory chaos of the banquet. As you approached the altar, you saw the acolyte kneeling in despair, her head bowed and her hands clasped in a desperate plea for mercy. Her soft sobs echoed through the empty chapel, the sanctity of the space amplifying the depth of her distress.

A smirk touched your lips as you approached, your footsteps echoing ominously. The acolyte’s head snapped up at the sound, her tear-streaked face reflecting shock and anger as she recognized you.

“I cannot imagine Lolth will be forgiving to the one who tried to poison her favored on the day of their union,” you said with a cold satisfaction. The words seemed to land heavily, deepening the acolyte’s rage.

“How did you survive?” she demanded, her voice a harsh whisper, trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “How did both of you survive? That blade was coated in Purple Worm Toxin; as soon as it drew blood, the effects should have taken hold immediately.”

"Evidently, House Baenre-"

"-House Baenre!” she spat out, her voice laced with venom. “I hate them all! They destroyed my family. Minthara killed my sister on a whim, and my house fell because of her cruelty. I was sent here to exact revenge, to see House Baenre's ruin!”

You listened with a mix of cold detachment and grim understanding. The animosity and vendetta against House Baenre were clear, but you had little sympathy for her plight. Your position as Mistress of House Baenre meant you had to uphold the dignity and power of your new house. Her vendetta was irrelevant to you now; she was a threat that needed to be dealt with.

“You failed,” you said, your voice steely. “And as Mistress of House Baenre, I am obligated to ensure that all transgressions are punished. However, I doubt I’ll get there before Lolth herself. That doesn’t mean I can’t offer some assistance.”

Before the acolyte could fully comprehend what was happening, you began to weave a cocoon of divine silk around her. The shimmering threads encased her body, the silken strands gliding effortlessly as they bound her tightly. Her struggles against the cocoon were futile, the threads forming a firm and unyielding prison.

With the cocoon fully formed, you turned your gaze upward to the statue of Lolth. The statue’s eyes, previously dim and lifeless, suddenly flared with a deep, crimson glow. The eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness of the chapel, signaling the goddess’s presence.

A small smile graced your lips and in a flash of blinding light, the cocoon began to tremble and writhe. The divine silk glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light as the acolyte’s form within the cocoon began to twist and contort. A cacophony of harsh, bone cracking sounds filled the chapel, the process of transformation a brutal and unsettling spectacle.

The cocoon’s surface split open, revealing the acolyte’s body undergoing a grotesque metamorphosis. Her limbs elongated and twisted, her form shifting into that of a drider—half-drow, half-spider. The transformation was violent, marked by a series of inhuman cries and the sound of tearing flesh.

As the final touches of the transformation took place, a portal of shimmering web appeared above the altar. The drider, now fully transformed, was dragged upwards by the force of the web, struggling against its constraints but ultimately powerless to resist.

The portal drew the drider into its depths, vanishing into the dark expanse of the Underdark. The last sight of the acolyte was a flash of horrified eyes and twisted limbs before it was completely absorbed by the portal.

You watched with a mixture of resolve and cold satisfaction as the portal closed, sealing the drider's fate. The chapel fell silent once more, the only sound being the distant echoes of the banquet hall. You slowly albeit with great difficulty due to the restrcitve dress, kneeled infront of the statue and clasped your hands in prayer.

The dim light of the chapel flickered as you approached the grand statue of Lolth, her visage looming large and commanding in the sacred space. The flickering flames of the nearby torches cast eerie shadows, creating an atmosphere both reverent and charged with divine energy.

You fell to your knees on the cold, polished stone floor, your posture embodying both respect and solemnity. The weight of the evening’s events settled upon you, and with deep breaths, you centered yourself, preparing to offer a prayer worthy of the Spider Queen. You lowered your head and closed your eyes, focusing all your energy and intent on the divine presence before you.

In a voice both steady and reverent, you began:

“Most Glorious and Resplendent Lolth, Queen of Spiders, Matron of the Underdark, hear the words of your devoted descendent.”

“Great Mistress, it is with deepest gratitude and unwavering devotion that I come before you in this sacred place. I offer my thanks for your boundless favor, which guided my ancestral aasimar, Liakyre, from the treacherous embrace of her mother Eilistraee, and into the welcoming web of your dark grace.”

“O Divine One, you who nurtured and raised her as your own, you who allowed her bloodline to continue and for House Liakyre to ascend, I beseech you to acknowledge my humble gratitude. Though the house now lies fallen, its legacy persists within the fervent fire of this descendent’s heart.”

“May the blood of Liakyre, whose blood now courses through me, burn brightly and unyieldingly as I take up the mantle of Mistress of House Baenre. Empower me to honor the past, to uphold the strength of our bloodline, and to fulfill the sacred duties entrusted to me by your will.”

“Grant me, O Lolth, your divine blessing as I forge ahead into the future, carrying forth the traditions of your dark and eternal house. Let your gaze remain upon me, a guiding light in the shadows, as I serve House Baenre with loyalty and fervor and continue Liakyre's legacy through them.”

With each word, the sense of the divine grew stronger, the statue’s eyes seeming to glimmer with an otherworldly light. The ambient light in the chapel seemed to intensify, focusing on the statue’s form as if Lolth herself were acknowledging your prayer.

With a final bow of your head, you left the chapel, the sense of divine favor still tingling at your fingertips. The grandeur of the banquet hall greeted you as you emerged, the sounds of celebration and the clamor of the crowd filling the air with vibrant energy. The guests, a mélange of the elite and powerful from Menzoberranzan, erupted into cheers as you re-entered the hall.

The atmosphere was electric with excitement. You made your way to Minthara, who was surrounded by well-wishers and offering polite nods and pleasantries. As you approached, her sharp eyes fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“What was that about, Y/N?” Minthara asked, her voice low yet demanding. “The High Priestess mentioned something about you and the acolyte. I need to know what happened.”

You offered her a reassuring smile, knowing that any explanation now would only add to the evening’s complexity. “I’ll tell you later,” you said smoothly. “For now, I could really use a drink.”

Without waiting for a response, you reached for her wine glass, taking it from her hand with a quick, deft motion. Minthara’s eyes widened in surprise as you took a long, deliberate sip of the wine, savoring the rich, intoxicating flavor.

Minthara’s protest died in her throat, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched you with a mix of amusement and frustration. She looked as if she were about to speak, but the moment was abruptly interrupted as you leaned in and pulled her into a passionate kiss. The suddenness and intensity of the kiss seemed to catch her off guard, but she quickly responded, her arms wrapping around you as she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

When the kiss finally broke, you pulled away, your lips lingering on hers for a heartbeat longer. You could see the desire in her eyes, a fire that matched your own. With a playful smirk, you murmured, “Must be the Menzoberranzan love magic in the wine from the toast.”

Minthara’s eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and amusement. “Is that so?” she replied, her voice dripping with a teasing challenge.

Before she could respond further, the crowd’s cheers and laughter seemed to rise around you, drawing the attention back to the festivities. You took her hand, guiding her through the throng of guests, ready to embrace the rest of the evening's revelry. You felt a high like no other, your family may be 6ft under, but you were now mistress of the most powerful House in Menzoberranzen, you had just seen Lolth turn a once devoted acolyte into a drider because of her transgressions against you. Oh the night was young, and you intended to enjoy every moment of it.

Part Five

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Ooof this was a long one but I have been feeling so rotten lately (I'm on so many antibiotics and meds rn lmaoooo) and this is my comfort fic to write.

Finally have revealed how reader has her powers, and for clarity, I'm headcanoning that Eilistraee had aasimar children and one of them fell and Lolth took full advantage of that.

Hope you all enjoyed it, let me know what you think in the comments below or in my inbox. Love you all - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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@mimetoist @thepotatoislost @needyformilfs @longjohnsilverfish @spacezombiez @morganaspet @wineredsea

If you want to be in the taglist just comment down below xox

[critterbitter]

Do you think you'll draw the nimbasa trio catching their first Pokemon that's not their starter on their journey?

Definitely! It’s just a matter of getting there, haha. I am but one vaguely man shaped blob with a hyperfixation. Mortal needs like sleep and hand pains stop me from vomiting every brain idea I have.

I actually got this question multiple times, so to answer! I am not going to be drawing the nimbasa trio getting another pokemon until their late teens unless a brainworm strikes. (So no new pokemon during the current snapshot series haha.)

Why?

From a canon perspective, well:

Most npc trainers you meet on route have 2-4 pokemon, so I’m gonna try to keep within that amount until the trio settles in Nimbasa and have the revenue/space to upkeep a full pokemon team.

From a meta perspective, wellllll:

Another caught pokemon means character development, and I, ah... right now, I just wanna draw a candle, a zebra, and an eel. I love painting. But fitting seven or more characters on a canvas is, er… Make me draw more guys and I’ll melt like a vanniluxe on a summer day.

If people are curious for some pokemon headcannons though (note that this is not canon— pokemon gave me a puddle of information, so I’m taking the shovel to dig an ocean.)

- ingo saw a colony of dwebble collecting rocks while in the desert, and he’s been enamored ever since. He’s been trying to convince a dwebble to join his team for a while. Unfortunately, Ingo’s very excited and dwebble are naturally shy. (It doesn’t help that litwick can get mean when jealous.)

- emmet loves double battles and teams up with a lot of wild pokemon— but he doesn’t click with anybody until much further in the future. Me thinks his expectations are a tad too high from having such a good start with tynamo. He’s worked with multiple growlithes and thinks Helping Hand is the coolest shit ever.

- emmet’s first “caught” pokemon would be archen. More like “lab grown” and “lovingly hatched”, but it’s the thought that counts. Thinking once again about squab archen…

- elesa found her two emolga in the trash. She was going to release them after fostering, but got attached.

For future plans:

(The pokemon the twins live with and are officially part of the team (named at what stage the twins meet them! Note that everybody becomes fully evolved at somepoint.)

Ingo— litwick, dwebble, drillbur, and axew.

Emmet— tynamo, archen(lint roller), joltik, and durant.

They also have pokemon coworkers that don’t live with them, but agree to help in battles for exp and wages— kliklank twins, garbadore, shelmet and karablast, boldore (atlas), and gurdur)

And for our favorite electric gym leader:

Elesa— blitzle, the emolga twins (em and molga), stunfisk, mareep

(She has pokemon coworkers Eelektross (eela), zebrastrika (motorbreak), and Galvulanta (Lanta) who have a similar set up to the twins— the pokemon agree to work with Elesa for exp and wages, but otherwise have their own lives.)

(Fun headcanon: pokemon who are raised by humans tend to keep human nicknames. It’s not always the case, but it’s a common enough trend for research studies.)

[schoenpepper]

River (Charlie Puth)

Intro: He doesn't understand why you keep getting closer and closer to him, even after all he's done. You don't understand why you love him, either.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread it's too long for me to give a fuck, reader is like simp 100%, book 4-5 spoilers ig, not canon happenings huehuehue, kinda disconnected but like, all my songfics are disconnected so idk, i was half asleep writing the latter parts, so it'll be messy for sure

A/N: Jamil my babygirl~ The people don't enjoy my Twisted Harmonies series, but I don't care because I like writing them. This one went through a couple edits though.

Masterlist

Don't run from me river

Don't run from me river, river

No don't run from me river

Don't run from me river, river

Meeting Jamil was the start of living for you.

Coasting through life back in your old world; everyday was a chore you had to get through in order to continue existing. When you got magically transported to a place with magic and new cultures and new people, it was like you finally got back to the same starting point as everyone else.

But seeing those dark gray eyes and long brown tresses, it made your heart beat for the first time.

A beauty that seems to want to go unnoticed, but how could you ignore him when his radiance filled your very being as naturally as oxygen filled your lungs? When he hid in his mask of incompetence and facade of normalcy, what can you do but trip over your own feet and fall? You see him, and the only thing you want to do is to be closer to him, enough to peel back that visage of mystery, to read him like an open book. Jamil is like a mirage in the deserts of the Scalding Sands, however, you know that the moment you reach out to touch him, he’ll fade away right in front of you.

So you keep watching.

You can’t do anything but watch.

You watch him plot and plan and fall victim to his own schemes. You watch him boil together the mess of feelings he doesn’t know how to release. You watch him bathe in his misery, you watch him drown in it.

You keep your hand to yourself instead of offering it.

You know he’ll never take it.

Look, you can play it cool

Act like you don't care

River don't be cruel

You're pushing me away

You’re interesting.

Jamil doesn’t care about much, and he certainly doesn’t care about you.

But a magicless human barreling into his world (literally) at orientation? You’ve got his interest peaked, at least. That’s it. He doesn’t care enough to give you a second glance. The only thing he knows about you is that you’re from a different world. But rumors always spread like wildfire, and suddenly, you’re the talk of the school. Riddle overblotted and you, somehow, are on center stage. In the Spelldrive tournament, he doesn’t know too much about what transpired, but what he does know is that you’re involved again somehow.

You could be useful.

You could be an asset to him, a boon if used correctly.

1, 2, 3, pieces fall into place.

Kalim is powerful, even if he doesn’t know it. But you, you’re Crowley’s little helper, aren’t you? You can make the headmaster look at the problem head on, instead of cowing to the Al Asims’ money. When everyone in Scarabia, and even Ramshackle’s prefect themself, is saying that Kalim is no longer fit to be housewarden, then wouldn’t the headmaster need to listen?

Stay.

Stay for another dinner. Another night. Another training session.

Stay until you’re useless to Jamil.

Don't want to get hurt

So you hurt me first

With the words you say

Maybe you should fall

Hah. You ruined his plans.

He lays on the floor, soaked in ink and sweat and tears, the forbidden taste of freedom lingering on his tongue. Azul and the twins are looking at him with mild amusement, even though he could clearly see they were just as injured, just as tired as he was. But he can’t read you. Even under snake whisper, he never understands what’s in your mind. You’re looking at him with an expression he can’t place, you give him a feeling he can’t shake. He’s lightheaded, he doesn’t really know where to go from here—when the adrenaline runs out and blood returns to his veins, Jamil has no idea what to do.

He hurt Kalim.

He hurt his dorm.

He hurt you.

Is that all he can do? When the chains that bind him are momentarily unlocked, is hurting other people the only thing he’s good at?

He meets your eyes.

There it is again; an emotion he doesn’t get. Are you pitying him? Is it empathy, sympathy? What do you want from him?

There is nothing that Jamil Viper can offer you.

Not when he doesn’t even belong to himself.

That's what rivers do

'Cause when you're in love

You don't mind a different view

Things are looking up

You think it’s unfair how beautiful Jamil is, even defeated and down on his knees. You ignore Grim for a moment to skirt around the black substance on the floor, making your way to Jamil. He looks at you warily, reminiscent of a wild animal that’s cautious, and rightly so, of a strange being entering its territory.

You hold your hand out.

You should know better than to hope that today is finally the day that he takes it.

But he does.

It’s more than what you imagined it to be. In your dreams, the boy that you love takes it with a flustered face and an awkward smile, hands clammy with sweat. In reality, the very first time that Jamil ever takes your hand, there’s a determined look on his face and sludge on his palms. He’s tiredly glaring at you, likely internally cursing you out for ruining his evil plans. With the way his pretty eyes are slightly squinted, brows furrowed and lips curved downwards into a frown, you think it’s so much better than your fantasies.

Because it’s the real Jamil.

And his grip kind of hurts when you help him up, but he doesn’t complain when you make him lean on your shoulder for support. You help him back to his room.

Everything’s over. For now.

But for you and your poor heart, it’s all just begun.

Maybe this is the step you’d needed to get closer to him? Maybe this is the part of the cheesy romantic movie where he lets you in after troubles and tribulations? Maybe this time, you can get to know who he really is.

Strip away the practiced incompetence. Take off his cloak made of calculated errors.

So, it’s decided.

From now on, you’ll find out everything about Jamil, and you’ll give and give and give and give, if only to replace the parts he’d had to give away over the years.

You’re both broken.

But maybe if you give him the parts of you that are still working, at least one of you can be fixed.

Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)

Don't run (river, river)

Don't run (run, run)

Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)

Don't run (river, river) from our love (run, run)

He wakes up in the infirmary. It’s still you.

Why are you still here?

Leave. Leave him alone. He doesn’t deserve your gentle care, not when it’s his fault, not when he’s the reason both for your and his own injuries. You never say a word, but you redress his wounds so carefully, making sure not to hurt him in the process.

What do you get out of this?

He genuinely doesn’t understand.

Jamil has never been kind to you, no, he’s always done what he needed to do in order to get you to move according to the script he’d written. He’d toyed with you, manipulated you, don’t you understand? He lied, because lying is his nature, because you’re just so gullible, you never even thought twice before believing any of his words.

Why don’t you get it?

You hand him a packet of cookies. Cheap ones from the school store, but judging by the way you’re dressed, and what little knowledge he has of your financial situation, he knows it’s all you have on you. He takes it with a soft ‘thanks’ and opens it. It tastes like cardboard, he can make better ones.

But you smile at him.

Your smile reminds him of the sun back home. It’s unbearably bright, he wants to turn his eyes away, but it’s also so unbearably stunning. And your voice, it’s akin to the nectar of blooming flowers in the spring when they travel through the air in all their sweetness. “Eat up, you need to regain your strength.”

If you refuse to be his enemy…then what is he supposed to do?

Look, darling don't give up

When the water's rough

Where you gonna go?

My heart is your home

You are persistent, if nothing else. In a corner somewhere, in a low whisper that no one other than you or him would have heard, he’d apologized. You accepted his apology. He thought that would have been the end of it. You’d return to the state of strangers, as you had been before the winter vacation. But you’re like honey, sticking to his fingers and leaving a saccharine residue he just can’t wash off. You’re in the cafeteria and you choose to sit next to him, in the hallways where you greet him a cheery ‘good morning’ and ‘good afternoon’, in the parties in Scarabia that Kalim invites you to.

You pull Jamil away to a hidden balcony to escape the noise. You laugh and chatter away even when he doesn’t reply.

You hold his hand.

He lets you.

He doesn’t know why, but he lets you do whatever you want. He never stops you, even though he knows he should.

You show up to basketball practice and every single game. He tries, he really does, to convince himself that you’re there for Ace. You guys are best friends, right? So of course you’d be there to support him. Hell, you could even be there for Floyd, with how close you seem to be with the merman.

(Jamil is a liar, after all.)

He tells himself you’re not there for him.

Even when you run up to him after a successful play, passing him a cold bottle of water and a fluffy towel for his sweat, he swears you’re not there to support him. Why would you? He’s the guy that threw you all the way to the other side of his dormitory.

(You only give Ace an eye roll when he brags about the win, and Floyd, a high five.)

(The best liars fool themselves.)

Nothing is as cold

As running on your own

So river don't you rush

Maybe you should fall

You have…what was the expression again?

Jamil watches on with Kalim from the corner of the court.

Two left feet, that’s it. Your dancing is, quite frankly, hilarious to watch. A mess of uncoordinated limbs flailing about, but it’s certainly better than Grim’s or Deuce’s. Kalim interrupts with a well-meaning comment (rude, but it’s true), and somehow, Jamil’s volunteered against his will to teach the clumsy first-years how to dance.

Ace knows enough of the basics, Deuce is remarkably stiff, Grim is a hopeless case.

But you can learn.

You want to pass the auditions too? Vil’s rather stringent with his requirements, though Rook is certainly not. But if you want to have even a shot at this, maybe Jamil can teach you more thoroughly, one on one.

Sevens, even he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore.

You agree.

(Why did you agree?)

That's what rivers do

'Cause when you're in love

You don't mind a different view

Things are looking up

One hand on your waist, the other gently fixing your leg in place by your upper thigh.

(He wonders if you can hear his heart beating when his chest is to your back.)

“You should be more relaxed. The song isn’t aggressive, so you shouldn’t be so stiff.” Jamil speaks lowly into your ear, and he feels you shudder but never pull away. Instead, you nod and try to follow his instructions the best you can. Your body melts into the posture he’s veering you towards, molded by his palms. You’re warm, and the way you’re nervously looking back over your shoulder to gauge his reaction makes him think of the stray cats that occasionally circled him for food.

“Sorry, I just, don’t really dance,” you admit in embarrassment.

“Then why do you want to audition for the SDC?”

“Hm? Because my friends are auditioning. They think that if enough of us are in the team, they’ll be able to replace Epel. He doesn’t seem very willing to compete, after all.”

And there you are again.

Saving another stranger, as if kindness itself is melded into your bones. Jamil finds that he was wrong; it’s not just your smile that’s evocative of sunlight, it’s you. Your eyes meet his with a warmth that doesn’t burn, yet touching your skin makes him feel like he’d just come in contact with red-hot lava.

If you’re this kind to everyone, was he just another charity case to you?

Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)

Don't run (river, river)

Don't run (run, run)

Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)

Jamil pushes you away like it’s routine.

Everytime you think you’ve managed to dig deeper, you’re met with another blockade, each stronger than the last. He’s confusing, because everytime you think he’s letting you get closer (every time, you’re given hope that your feelings have come through), you’re disappointed again and again and again. You manage to graze the edge of his fingers before he flinches away like your touch burns him like hot metal.

And you keep trying.

What else are you supposed to do?

You continue your efforts and hope and pray that one day, he’ll see you. 

But for now, you watch out for his lines and redraw them without his knowledge. You do what you can to be his friend, because even though every bone in your body is begging for his love, you know it’s impossible when he won’t even let you be his confidant. You sit next to him and stay, even when he tries to scoot further away from you. Is it healthy? Probably not. You know better than to do what you’re doing. But you don’t stop.

(Jamil is like a drug injected straight into your veins.)

Don't run (river, river) from our love (run, run)

Don't run from me river

Don't run from me river, river

No don't run from me river

He thought that distancing himself from you would be the right thing to do. He doesn’t know if it’s right, but what he does know is that it’s impossible. You’re a thought always running through his mind; a dream flowing through his reality.

When did it start that, even when he knows you’re not near, he still searches for you?

Jamil almost feels relief when he arrives at Pomefiore and realizes that you didn’t make the cut. Almost. He’s not relieved though, it’s overshadowed by a feeling of restlessness he doesn’t understand.

Anything concerning you, Jamil’s never quite understood.

Then you arrive anyway. When he’s managed to calm his heart down, you rev it up again like an engine. Vil announces you to be the team manager, and you agree quickly to let the team stay at Ramshackle at the notion of the prize money.

(You certainly weren’t looking at Jamil when you agreed.)

How is he supposed to avoid you now?

He moves in with the rest of the group, when you insist that you’re one bedroom short and thus, regretfully, Jamil would have to stay with you for the duration of his stay. He’s a liar, of course he knows you’re lying. He can see your gleeful smile you’re desperately trying to hide, in the small giggles that leave your lips when you think no one’s paying attention to you. He can decline, of course, and just room with Kalim instead where he can make sure that the heir survives the night without too much distance.

Instead, he agrees, only asking for Kalim to room nearby.

Don't run from me river, river

No don't run from me river

Don't run from me river, river

No don't run from me river

Your very smart and well thought-out plan worked.

Hm, maybe a little too well.

Jamil didn’t say anything when you basically forced him into sharing a room with you. Now he’s in the bathroom, and you’re shaking in your pajamas (from fear? Excitement? Withdrawal symptoms?), tucked into your cheap cotton sheets you’d bought at Sam’s for a couple thaumarks. It is unfortunate, but true, when you say that these are the nicest sheets you have. Jamil exits the bathroom fully clothed (sadly), hair wrapped in a towel and a hair dryer in hand. “Let me help you.” There is no way you were letting an opportunity like this slip through your fingers.

Surprisingly, he complies.

He’s sitting on your bed while you’re kneeling on the mattress behind him, plugging the device on and getting to work. God, it’s divine, he’s divine—his hair smells fruity and floral, and it moves through your fingers like he’s in a shampoo commercial.

(Don’t be a freak. Don’t sniff his hair.)

It takes a long time for it to dry, but when it does, it’s smooth and shiny and absolutely gorgeous. He tries to get up and says he can put his hair oil on by himself, and you take out the pushiest, most blunt sides of you in order to convince him to let you do it too.

Safe to say, sleep escapes you when you’re next to a five-foot-seven beauty in an oversized hoodie and pajama pants.

Maybe you should fall

That's what rivers do

'Cause when you're in love

You don't mind a different view

Jamil has come to the conclusion that he can’t avoid you.

Perhaps it was a realization that should have come long ago. But as the days pass by and he’s in your dormitory, it only further cements in him the feelings he’d been running from. Seeing you everyday feels right, spending every waking moment with you is more than just comfortable. It’s freeing in a way, like he’d just arrived to the countryside from the smoke of the city and he’s taking his first whiff of fresh air.

Practice is enjoyable.

He dances and he sings, and he can feel your eyes on him, roaming up and down but never to anyone else. For the first time in his life, someone’s chosen him, someone’s looking at him with every bit of their attention and focus. Not Kalim, not anyone else. Him. Jamil might be addicted to the feeling of you so openly lusting after him, almost begging for his attention.

(He can’t recognize the other emotions, but physical attraction is easy to read.)

You desire him. Really?

When he looks back at you, catching you in the middle of your act, he enjoys seeing your flustered face and avoidant gaze all the more. Vil calls for a break, so he stretches before taking the sports drink you’re offering.

(It reminds him of when you’d visit him during his basketball games.)

Jamil lightens the mood by deciding to make small talk with you instead of calling you out on your behavior. He takes a sip and laughs with you when Ace and Grim get in a scuffle in the middle of the dance floor, Vil breaking them up with a well-thrown bottle of apple juice. He watches you laugh at Ace clutching a forming bump on his forehead. It sounds like something he can’t quite place, but what he does know is that he’s dreamt of it before—

He’s…dreamt of you.

Multiple times.

The realization hits him harder than the bottle that Vil had thrown at Ace.

Things are looking up

Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)

Don't run (river, river)

Don't run (run, run)

Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)

Don't run (river, river) from our love (run, run)

Practice was useless.

You watch the reaction of the crowd in response to Neige and his team’s rehearsal. It was a fine performance (if it had been done in a kindergarten recital). Yet you see Vil seething and Rook sighing like the both of them had already seen defeat before it even arrived. You feel annoyance, frustration, injustice (why should the cutesy dance win when it was poorly put together, nothing but a mockup of an actually talented number?). None of that helps. 

Vil overblots.

It’s familiar, though it probably shouldn’t be. The fight saps all the energy you had in your body, and you rush to your friends before the dust even settles, thankfully, no one has a serious injury. They still perform despite everything that had just happened, on the stage that your friend Tsunotarou had rebuilt with just a flick of his wrist. Predictably, they lose.

Well, who said the majority of people had good taste?

(You find Jamil packing in your room right afterwards. You convince him to stay, just a little longer. You wonder what you would need to do to convince him to stay forever.)

Oh river (river, river) (don't run from me river)

Don't run (run, run) (don't run from me river, river)

Don't run (river, river) (no don't run from me river)

Don't run (run, run) (don't run from me river, river)

Jamil thinks he finally understands.

Not you, exactly, rather, the combination of emotions he always finds whenever he looks into your eyes. It was love, a deep adoration that seeped into your soul and made you vulnerable to everything he did. It makes him rethink; was it his unique magic all that time ago, or was it just you fully willing to submit to his whims? No, when did this even start? You’ll likely never give him an answer to that question, but he’s smart enough to figure it out on his own. Retrace the steps, right? All the way back to the first time he met you.

(It’s not quite love yet. But something is there, and he doesn’t know why.)

It’s incorrect for him to assume that just because he found out what your feelings for him were, he’d automatically unravel who you are as a person. It only serves to deepen the enigma; what had he done for you to notice him so early on?

(He crosses out the possibility it might be love at first sight. How boring.)

You must be some tactical genius, and every action leading to this moment must’ve all been a trap. It was as if every step he’d taken since the day you met had only led him spiraling down, deeper and deeper into you. You’re a master at this game he’d noticed too late, you’d already gotten him stuck in your well-woven web of deceit.

How unexpected.

And yet, thrilling.

As Jamil lays his head on your lap, drifting off to a peaceful sleep under the shade of the apple tree, he takes in the feeling of you gently massaging his scalp and thinks of only one thing.

He’d lost to your machinations.

(If you want it so badly, Jamil will give you whatever is left of him that is his. He will trust you.)

Oh river (river, river) (don't run from me river)

Don't run (run, run) (don't run from me river, river)

Don't run (river, river) (no don't run from me river)

From our love (run, run) (don't run from me river, river)

No

His eyelashes are remarkably long. You gently trail a fingertip over the edge of its fanned-out shape, taking note of the shadow it leaves on his cheekbones.

He doesn’t wake up when you kiss his cheek.

Jamil is a mystery you want to keep trying to read every single moment of everyday. He’s a person you want to keep next to you, even if you’ve already gotten to the bottom of all his plans and ideals. You were attracted to him because Jamil is a shattered mirror, all its pieces still reflecting you.

He was barely existing too.

You saw in him what you know is present within yourself; a creature of self-doubt and hatred, wanting to know its place in this world, needing to know its purpose for existence. But unlike you, Jamil took steps to find a way out of his own personal hell, while back in your own world, you were only ever stuck in the same place. He’s everything you never thought you needed, but did.

Now, he’s breathing.

You wonder if he feels safe with you.

You wonder if he feels the same way that you do. Does he look at you and feel alive? Just like how Jamil was the beginning of your living, are you his?

You don’t need to know the answer.

(You couldn’t fix him, and he couldn’t fix you. Isn’t it great, then, that your broken pieces slot right into each other?)

[chihoshisai]

Double Arrangement

Sabo x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw : royalty au, strangers to lovers, arranged/political engagement, reader is royalty, sabo is cold (but will warm up over time in other chapters) // wc : 4k words

Part 4

Open doors stood ajar at the end of a dimly lit corridor; creating an inviting trail of light into the ballroom. With joined hands at your stomach, you walked towards it, feeling a comfortable chill from your steps on your exposed upper chest while using the advantage of your tardiness to calm your nerves in the deserted area. Whether for good or for worse, most of the guests had allegedly all arrived while your hair was being put into elaborate braids, pearls lining its entanglement. 

“Her highness, the princess,” the guards at the door announced upon your arrival, and all within the room, faced with the presence of another royal, turned their pair of eyes on you, out of respect, anticipation, duty and perhaps even envy. 

Their blatant staring was of no importance to you — years of attending and hosting such social events had rendered you practically irontight to twinkling gazes, lustful smiles, whispers of awe and unprompted conversation. This time was no different, as you entered with your usual steadfast expression and laxed composure. Now that the desired marine blue color of the sky had been acquired, the room glistened with the yellow rows of chandeliers, and the purple wisterias found themselves tinged in a yellow oranged colorway. The room felt hot, being filled to its full capacity; voluminous dresses taking more space than necessary and homogeneous looking tailcoats, overshadowing the faces of their wearer and so as far as the eyes could see. Melodic orchestra music slithered throughout the room, carrying over chatter and people in a planned unison and offering a much joyful atmosphere to whoever took the time to listen.

Your first reflex had always been to firstly seek the company of your own blood before venturing out for the sake of greetings, politeness and interrelations; a bore that made you feel the weight of your title.

While your eyes scavenged the room for your relatives, feet leading you to lounge the walls, your ears picked up odd and unusual tonations ; snickers, vividly odd whispers and when you turned your neck in their direction, malicious looking sneering eyes were posed on you. It striked you as odd in the start — you were well aware of the simplicity behind your gown of choice — but the more you walked to find those you seeked, the more your confidence dwindled through the incessant muffled banter. Even as you made furtive eye contacts with a few, the way in which they smiled left your cheeks feeling hot with an increasing sense of ridicule up your chest. 

Once the perfect example to follow as the eldest daughter of the royal line. Now currently experiencing a fall from grace.

Perhaps, not displaying unconventional norms was more challenging than you had thought. Your hands were growing damp in self consciousness as your search grew more desperate; mostly for the relief and comfort your family would hopefully provide, pushing aside your worries as trivial.

Your eyes ultimately found your twin younger siblings, chattering about near the chair earlier set for the king to sit, in the furthest end of the room. You smiled to yourself and skipped over their shared location, raising the hem of your skirt to facilitate your movements.

“I wasn’t made aware we lacked funds,” your brother teased as you came not only into view but also in earshot. A smile was hidden away by the sipping of his beverage.

You spoke while taking your last steps before fully including yourself in their company. "Why don't you go about your drinking and leave me alone?” You sarcastically told him, fighting back an eye roll due to the many watching from the crowd. 

If the remarks of your youngest brother always flew over your head due to his frivolous nature, those of his twin sister mattered more than you'd ever admit aloud. "Lord, what are you wearing?” She looked you up and down with a distasteful raised eyebrow. 

"Not you too,” you tempted as a way to play it cool, the earlier uncomfortable sensations caused by the guests now starting to morph into sweat at your armpits.

"It is a ball,” she pressed, giving you round eyes to make you realize your folly. 

"So I have been made aware throughout the week,” you persistently kept a grip on your sarcasm. 

"You embarrass me sister,” your sibling distorted her expression in a subtle disgusted one. Her remark edged you towards the remnant of your self esteem. In contrast to you, she wore a light pink off-the-shoulder gown, an exterior over the dress corset weaved with silver floral motifs, layers upon layers of lace and tulles propped over one another on the skirt, all with a shimmering accent while her loose hair crowned jewels.  

"Apologies if I make for a poor example to look up to,” you gave a polite smile.

A snort came from the brother, who until now silently drank. "At least you're self aware."  

"Might I point out you will not find drinks in our company,” you told him. 

"You're right,” he drank the last of his cup. “If i'm to last the night with you looking like this, I’ll need quite the amount," he failed to excuse himself and went in the direction of the nearest drink mount he could spot. 

"I'd rather not be pitied by standing in your company, forgive me sister and have a great night... if you can," your sister respectfully gave you a nod and went on to trail in the direction set by her twin.

You found yourself alone, perhaps quicker than the time spent searching. "What I would give to see them in my shoes," you mumbled through a sigh. 

People, now that your lonesome had been guaranteed once more, seemed to have increased their staring and hidden whisper towards you. Still digesting the talk with your siblings who had shown you no kindness in mincing their words, you lowered your gaze to the plain fabric of your lilac dress — and how empty it looked. No accessories or over layers, making you wish you had stuck to your usual ball attire. One that not only wouldn't gift you sneers, but compliments and the maintenance of your social upstanding. 

Now it seemed as though everything; your personality, your respect in the eyes of the populace, your value, that you had built crumbled under the simple layer of a single gown. 

“His majesty, the king,” the door guards announced, and at the sight of your brother, with neatly combed hair and the most intricately exquisite ensemble of the room, you felt hope that perhaps him, wouldn't add fodder to your increasing misery.

Remembering that you stood near the chair appointed to him in the room, you maintained your solitude until his form came into your view. 

“I did what I could, are you satisfied?” He came to stand by your side, scarcely ignoring his designated seat, to take a full view of the room.  

Despite his earlier outburst, it seemed things had shifted here and there after your talk, such as the number of set tables. “I shall give you my answer afterwards,” you told him, having been overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the crowd. 

"May I speak of your dress?” 

Your heart gave a drop. "Must I hear it from everyone?” 

He ignored your plea, continuing ahead with his monologue, much to your anxiety. "I can see you chose your grown appropriately for the original room decorations but... considering mother had a last minute hand in it I expected her to apply the same if not more amount of effort to you.” 

You darted your eyes at him for a second with a clenched jaw. "She tried but it was too late.” 

“A shame, really.” 

"Yeah,” you felt your breathing gain in depth. “Especially since I feel like a fish out of a pond, exposed for all to see and laugh at.” 

"You may go and change if it bothers you,” your brother put a compassionate hand on your shoulder. 

"There was no time to find me a new dress. None will suddenly magically appear because I returned to my chambers in the spawn of half an hour,” your involuntary sharp words caused his support on your shoulder to recoil away. It was stronger than you, and despite knowing not to treat him that way, the constant ridicule and shutting down had put you on edge. 

"Don't be so glum, give them a week with new gossip and they'll forget all about it.” 

"Gossip from the palace doesn’t die quickly,” you grumbled. 

"So you say,” his voice was starting to sound disinterested and distant.  

"But perhaps if you were to fabricate one after tonight? In the upcoming week perhaps?” You tempted with a more enthusiastic tongue, turning your head to glance at him with hope. Truly, it would give you enough ammo to make it through the night less scathed.  

He gave you an irritated look before looking back again to the masses. "You think me your servant ? I've already tried bending hell and heaven for this ball and you ask for more in such a small window time? I will not help you further with this matter. If you are displeased with your own personal choices, then the least you can do is keep your head high." He finished by walking away and disappearing into the room.

Feeling small by the minute, you bit the inside of your cheeks, fully aware that he was right. That keeping your gaze upright, looking over the conversations and laughter filled crowd would help you save whatever face you had left.  

As thoughts of never venturing down such a path again tried brewing in your brain, you locked eyes with the person who had since the beginning tempted you to fall down this free for all fall. Sabo stood near a wall, his arms crossed, his attention heavily focused on you for what had most likely been a while. No snicker nor malice could be traced on his features, which much to your relief slightly appeased your worrying. 

You were unsure of which expression to give in turn. A smile? A nod? Surely not a wave. Instead you made your way to skip and cross guests, momentarily stopping here and there when a conversation was brought to you by others, no doubt with vile intention, by subtle innuendo of your attire. Despite that, you allowed the emotions to pile up, pent-up deep within your heart to finally greet Sabo in godd spirits.

“Good evening,” you gave your first genuine smile of the night.

Sabo gave you a quaint nod, turning his attention instead towards the crowd, more precisely scrutinizing the room. It dawned upon your mind that the last time since you spoke to one another did, despite the lack of malevolent intentions, end up rather bitterly. Even so, you went to stand nearby him, keeping your hands joinned near your bodice, thinking of starting anew with the broken feelings of a last encounter behind.   

“Might I inquire of your thoughts on the venue? You seem quite engrossed in analyzing it.”

“It's not what I expected.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, figure brimming with a piqued interest. “How so?”

“It's far less embellished than I had expected,” he turned while you internally marveled at your accomplished goal, to look you in the eye. “Can I assume that is your doing?”

“I'll take it you like it then. The room was heavily tampered with by an unforeseen variable, but it relieves me to hear your thoughts.”

“I see you have backed up your earlier claim of having more power than meets the eyes,” Sabo remained unfazed by your words. “But tell me, why would you do such a thing? What of the other nobles and their thoughts?”

His questions were far from unexpected on your part and you let your eyes wander over to the dancers in the center of the room while smoothly delivering a reply you had turned over in your head like a broken record. “I couldn't give two crumbs about them. This ball wasn't planned in their honor but in ours. And why would I remain a bystander while a ball that would disregard your taste was being organized.” 

Sabo uncrossed his arms, taking a step to blur your vision of the waltzing dancer, to fill it instead with his blue attire. “You're satisfied with this?”

“I had wished for far less,” you upheld your gaze in his, noticing the colors of his eyes drowning away your earlier affliction, until an announcement came to rob the moment away.  

Your brother had found his place in the midst of his seat and spoke with a conventional tone after having bought the attention of all the guests, interrupted the dancing, eating and quelled the music. “Tonight, dear guests, we are assembled to announce the news of an engagement in our family.” A buzz occured, in which you looked at Sabo with a playful look to meet his blank stare,  but soon did the murmurs were nipped in the bud and calm returned. “I humbly announce that my youngest sister, her highness the princess, is now engaged to Sabo, son of Outlook III.”

It happened in an instant — eyes, from all over bolted in your direction, lighting a sense of red exposure on the tip of your ears.  You were used to attention, but still its clamor would never cease to be overwhelming. Thankfully this time you weren't solely exposed as you glanced at the arm Sabo extended your way. A small gesture, but one that made you feel supported in this limelight. Grateful, you circled your own arm around his and walked, head proud throughout the room, the misplaced sneers and comments momentarily stunned by the news and rendered silent all the way to the King's chair. 

“The betrothed everyone, let us wish for a happy marriage,” your brother spoke once you had both made it through to stand in front of him. “Give them a warm applause,” he ordered to the crowd, and as both you and Sabo turned, the once backstabbing guests delivered an obliged cheer, one that enforced your ambition to see this through rather than let it fall apart. 

A deafening exclamation filled your ears, and as you looked through the crowd, you perceived the genuine, congratulatory faces of your younger siblings, offering a nice contrast to the fabricated elation of the nobles. Including Sabo’s family who seemed delighted to give thanks and shake hands with honor to whoever stood around them. 

You looked up at Sabo to see his blank face hardening under a rigid, conventional smile ; one that sent shivers down your spine as it looked more ominous than sincere. An expression you had never seen him arbor before. What could possibly go on in his mind, you thought, remembering his lucid agitation against nobility. 

He caught sight of your eyes, twisting his smile up into a polite one that didn't fail to bring about his attractive traits. His arm that had been freed of your clutch upon meeting the king raised to extend a steady hand in your vicinity.

“A dance, if you may your highness?” He asked you, bending his upper body slightly as proper dance invitations would have it.

You saw him at your level, a look of trust reflected in his eyes, exuding a serious yet alluring charm unbecoming of a noble who only performed this act for the sake of duty. And yet.

Your heart leaped. Quite strongly/fast. 

You accepted his hand, slipping your fingers into his sturdy one for the second time, now under favorable circumstances, while your mind tried throwing reminders not to get attached. Not when nothing was set in stone. But infatuation had already been cast over you — your heart wasn’t the only thing affected, for a heat started rushing across your cheeks and a bemused smile pushed through your lips. 

Sabo squeezed your hand in response, leading you across the path formed by the parting audience and to the middle of the ballroom. This time you walked by his side, glancing at his side profile ; an opportunity that had been deprived the one time he infuriatingly led you by the hands. An opportunity you now basked in as you took notice of the soft shadows candlelight painted on his features. Delicate, sharp and well maintained. 

While musicians readied their instruments, you both exchanged bows. Now standing before one another, ignoring what coursed through the audience, you smiled, a flourishing one brought about by the moment. And even though Sabo simply returned a curt one, it was enough to satisfy you, to see him leave behind his blank state. In fact, as he stepped closer, circling a firm hand on your waist to bring you in closer, at a respectful distance rather than an intimate one, and squeezing your raised hand, you felt elated. In turn, poring into his eyes, you steadied a hand on his shoulder and once more welcomed the warmth that came from such proximity with another. 

Even as the music started, time stretched into a simple eternity — Sabo led the pace and you gladly let him, curious to learn more of his dance style than provide a showcase of your own personal skills. Twirling, spinning and stepping in a rhythmic way, your blood pumped in your head while you came to acknowledge, and like the commanding way in which Sabo led you about, nonetheless taking advantage of your arsenal of skills. 

“You surprise me. Days of dance lessons weren't taken lightly by you it seems,” you spoke aloud, using the symphony and privacy granted by the proximity.

“Dancing isn't so bad, if you compare it to everything else,” his expression had regained a more grave one. 

“You enjoy dancing?”

“It is one of the few universal pleasures of life,” at that, he gripped your waist using both of his hands, utilizing the momentum of the music to spin you in the air, as a testament to his claim. 

You, who reflexively stabilized yourself by holding on to his shoulders expecting the mouvement, couldn't help but feel your grin increase in wideness as a rare lower view of Sabo basked in your vision.

After your heels had found the ground, brushing aside his absence of similar delight on his features, you kept your questioning. “I wasn't expecting you to keep up with this farce so accurately in front of everyone.”

“I told you, didn't I? That I at least wouldn’t cause you harm in other’s eyes. It’s only a ball and I hope the only social event we’ll attend together.”

The only event…? Was he planning on limiting social appearances to a minimum? But why? As you furrowed your eyebrows, wanting to ask for further details, you felt yourself interrupted by the joining of other pairs to the dance floor. Enough time had passed for other duos to join as the appropriate solo rundown of you along with Sabo, guests of honor, had run dry. Therefore, shadows started appearing in your peripheral vision, and you weren’t clumsy enough to tread a delicate conversation with them waltzing so close to your side. 

As such you gave a comprehensive nod along with a polite smile.

The remnant of the waltz was spent in quietude; your eyes darting about over Sabo’s upper body, taking notice of the veins in his neck, the details of his scar, the way in which his neck cravate edged on the loose side, rather than keeping eye contact with him.  You were reminded once more, after the thrill of a new experience subsided, that your fate stood incertain. And yet here you were, slowly growing more than attached to someone you could barely keep in your grasp.

Eventually, the melody of the orchestra came to an end, bows were exchanged and the floor evacuated for new pairs of dancers. Sabo and you both reentered the crowd side by side, and as you foresaw, were greeted by a crash of curious tongues wanting of gossip, by offering congratulations and wishes first. 

Used to such a display, their banter flew over your head, making you notice the way in which Sabo’s expression darkened. Displeasure was hidden behind his polite composure, yet etiquette had it that it was far too early for an excuse to leave. Therefore you pressed on, taking the initiative in every conversation in his stead. Smiling, chuckling, slithering venomous remarks if provoked, until your own arsenal of skills neared its depletion. 

“If you would excuse us, sirs, madams, but my fiance and I have an urgent matter to discuss between ourselves,” Sabo spoke to a ring of inquisitors, his arm extending towards your silent form for you to take. 

As you did, playing along by exchanging insipid goodbyes, you waited until your trail led you far enough from the talkers to whisper the reason behind his act. “An urgent matter to discuss between ourselves? What an unoriginal excuse if I've ever heard one.”

Sabo brushed aside your comment, his eyes searching for the safest route as he led you about the crowd. “You seemed quite tired out there.”

“Did I? I didn't notice,” you glanced up his way, only feeling a slight pain from your heels.

“Your lips were stiffening in between conversations,” Sabo spared you a momentary side glance, one that made you acknowledge his attention to details through surprised brows. “Let's get out of here,” he accelerated his pace, almost dragging you along the room without waiting for your reply.

You had remained in silence, at first flattered by his care but soon curious as to his destination. “Where are we going?” The two of you now walked a deserted corridor nearby the ballroom. On this festive night, candles had been freed from certain parts of the castle to prevent the scurrying of unwanted guests and make sure a single path was followed. A path which Sabo derived from the seconds guards looked away — and it had surprised you to see him furtively trutt about in your own home, skillfully unnoticed. 

You stopped, tugging on his arm to inquire him to look your way. “Sabo!”

He turned, freeing himself from your clutch with a single glance down your hand. “Nowhere in particular, away from that wretched place,” he crossed his arms and went to sit on the nearest windowsill. “You're free to go wherever you wish now, your highness.”

You cringed at the sound of your title. “Spare me your sarcasm at least for tonight. I've heard my fair share of incredulous remarks and body languages.”

“Due to your dress?” 

You sighed a heavy lamentation. It drained you enough to go and sit by next to Sabo, the exhaustion of the day soon to set throughout your body. “Mind adding to the long list of comments? Perhaps it is too drab?  Simple? Inappropriate? Original? Share your thoughts,” you waved an uninterested hand his way, fighting the urge to lean on the window’s glass.

“It looks good on you. Far from obscene like the other women,” his tone hid no trace of malice, which prompted you to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and to your surprise Sabo’s expression had been washed away from its blank state to appear more relaxed. “I like it,” he finished with a nod.

You smiled teasingly, feeling skeptic towards your first compliment of the night. “You're exaggerating.” 

“I mean it.”

You shifted to turn your knees in his direction, hiding internally the shy glee that propagated throughout your core, sweet and warm with innocence. “And yet you won't take me as spouse.” 

Sabo brushed aside your remark, visibly unwilling to tread back on old waters. “Did you not enjoy yourself tonight?” It might seem as though his question was asked out of courtesy, yet, based on a brief profile you had formed of him in your mind, you discerned more to his question than meets the eye.

“Would you like to know my real answer?” You asked with a nonchalant air. 

“It is what I asked for.”

You shrugged. “I did not,” the answer came plainly out of you; after a sour night, how could one possibly find enjoyment were they in your shoes? You knew saying otherwise would make you appear frivolous in Sabo’s image of you, and for that fact felt grateful of the hurtful bitter truth being what it was.

“Oh,” Sabo gave you a quizzical look, his knees edging likewise in your direction.

“But it isn't your fault. It is the guests, they are despicable,” you admitted, for once sharing a similar minded opinion with him. 

“I hear you. I've experienced that part of them myself. Not a great experience.” He thinned his lips, giving you a sympathetic look, which you gladly met sheepishly.

“Indeed,” you fiddled with your hands while Sabo kept his surveying of your features. Ultimately you sharpened the grip on your intertwined joints as you spoke. “Are people the same as here where you wish to live?”

To your relief, the question wasn't deemed impertinent nor too personal on Sabo’s part as he gave you a genuine response. “Far from that actually, no one judges another for their clothing, all the food gets eaten until there's nothing left and there isn't such abundant waste.” 

"Sounds like a nice place to live,” you pointed out with a dreamy smile. Here, you took advantage of the max atmosphere, thinking of Sabo’s guard being down to seize his hands into your own in order to plead your case by appearing to this rare, but currently present,  amiable side of him. “But in truth Sabo, I wish for us to spend more time together. We don’t have to attend social events as you wish, but simply be the two of us together in our company while the engagement lasts.”

“You would only end up hurt”

“I wish to do everything correctly while things still stands, rather than lament at my own inaction,” you gave a slight pressure to his palms. 

A pause occured in which his expression became unreadable, giving the false impression in which he considered your words. “Then promise me something,” his fingers gripped on yours with found urgency, his steady gaze meeting yours for more than a fleeting moment. 

“Yes?” Your heartbeat accelerated under anticipation, hanging on at the idea of hope that would bear fruit.

“Promise me you will up the wage of your staff, offer them more days off and treat them well. To them our life might seem just as unjust as the way the nobles treated you inside that ballroom,” Sabo delivered, much to your inexpectation. Of course he would think of the well-being of the populace before the possibility of marriage — and you were a fool for wishing otherwise.

Irked, you loosened your pressure over his hands and looked over the window. “I don't have power over the internal affairs of the castle.”

“It is important, you must try.” 

“It won't be easy but I suppose I can try speaking to the king,” you folded under his pressure, aware that resisting would simply push him further away, and you closer to a doom in another country.

Sabo freed himself from your weak clutch to  join your hands together, covering your palms in that motion with his and offering a gentle brush atop your skin to bring back your attention to him. “I'll see if I can spare you some time on my end.” 

Your heart leaped at his initiative, tempting you to press for more while your brain wanted to speak of a promise too, but the bell struck a new hour; by being far from the festivities it made itself heard quite well. 

“It is late, you should retire for the evening,” Sabo advised you with a slight pressure on your joined body parts. “Unless you wish to go back there?”

“God no,” you shook your head, hoping it would fade away the cherry color that settled on your face.

“Then I'll take my leave too,” he rose, letting go on your left hand but keeping a firm grasp on your right. Before you were granted the opportunity of inquiring the reason behind his act, thinking it might be to help you up your feet, you were met with the unforeseeable. A kiss, from his lips, soft, delicate and well placed, deposited itself on the back of your hand, causing the cherry color of your cheeks to become that of a burning fire. “Good night,” Sabo whispered.

“Good night.”

Part 5 in progress

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - a shocking upset to the rankings

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Nov 2023 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) ep 5 of 8 - It remains absolutely delightful. We already knew this pair does boyfriends damn near perfectly. It’s a pleasure to watch them as a couple, coupling all over our screen. The relationship does feel a bit rushed but frankly I like the pacing, it’s kind of Korean style which makes sense considering the original IP. 

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 1 of 10 - You know what this is? It’s FUN is what it is. I haven’t felt this way about a BL in a while. Sure is has an uneven story, fight sequences, pacing, and acting but still… yay! Billy is great, he very good at thirst. It’s a crime Lee Long Shi isn’t in this, but otherwise weeeeeeeeee!

(Also was that Bangsean I spotted?)

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - The montage of them learning and training together was so stinking cute I can hardly contain myself. Plus a little language play? (Did you catch the added “na” on to thank you? Gah! So sweet.) Have mercy. I love the banter that these two can execute so smoothly. It reminds me the most of TayNew back in their Kiss days. Or Nanon & Ohm in Bad Buddy.

There’s this breezy casualness to friendships and long-term relationships that Asian BLs seem to find really hard to execute (I’m thinking about something like Hospital Playlist as the best example). It’s more a friend chemistry than a lover chemistry, although of course it can morph into that.

Anyway, I am waffling, but I’m loving this show. (The bit with the teacher made me cry.) I also really love how much actual Bangkok we’re getting from it for a change. 

Finally... how much did @respectthepetty and I love the pink milk shirt moment? SO MUCH. Color theory, plot devise, fashion, food, and a trope reference all in one. Well done GMMTV! Very well done.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 4 of 10 - I would like it if we got onto the BL section of this BL. Please and thank you. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 2 of 14 - it's delightfully trashy, btu slightly less trashy than last week because they introduced AlanJeff who are my new babies of age gap delight and you cannot have them. THEY ARE MINE. Also Way. WAY IS MINE. Also, I decided to do a trash watch.

Bake Me Please (Mon Gaga) ep 1 of 6 - It’s nice. It’s fine. Atmospheric and pretty and full of deserts. What’s not to love? Is it inspired? No. Definitely has an Antique Bakery (play it again, BL). But I do love food based cinema. 

Middleman’s Love (Fri YT & iQIYI ep 3 of 8 - What’s annoying is that this could’ve been so good. It’s a poster child for squandered potential. 

Absolute Zero (Weds iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - Because of the temporal paradox, and Thai BL not being all that great on narrative consistency anyway, this is a confusing piece as well as a painful one. Now Ongsa seems to be nothing more than a stalker who cries all the time. 

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 2 of 14(!) eps - This really feels like Thailand is trying to relive the gory days of Japan's pinks. I wasn’t into it then and I’m certainly not into it now. It’s a mess and weirdly mechanically not sexy. I’ll stay watching it but, like Only Friends, I don’t think I’m gonna warm to it. I just don’t like shows where there are no likable characters. 

Also imma say it, so plug your assears. This is about as deep as a dildo can go. Which is to say, the size queens seem to be finding it more deep than the rest of us who are already bottoming out. Just make sure you're taking adequate lube prep with your psyches.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Friends Forever ep 14 of 24 - No thank you. 1/10 

I've decided, for spreadsheet reasons, that each of these is going to be tracked as its own 2 part show.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

A Breeze of Love (Korea iQIYI) eps 5-6 of 8 - The shopping together scene was absolutely darling. But I’m getting a little frustrated not knowing exactly what happened in the past.

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 1-2 of 10 - Of course it starts with the crash into me trope, oh Taiwan. It’s cute enough, I love the support cast, and it’s always nice to have something from my favorite tiny island on my dash. 

You tell me: is it safe?

One Room Angel (Japan Gaga) 6 eps - This one finished. It's an adaptation of Harada’s manga (which I did not like and dnf'd) about a clerk who nearly dies and ends up cohabitating with an angel. Thoughts? Is it sad? Is it meh? TELL ME!

It's Airing But...

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 1 of 10 - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). He has dimples (My Ride) but I don't think even that gives me the will. You can tell me how this goes if you can find it.

SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 14 eps - I'm not wild about Thai horror (or horror at all) even one featuring Singto and Fluke. I'm holding off. If told it's good, I'll binge.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk. Adapted from y-novel of the same name, directed by Tu (180 Degree) stars Jet (Why You… Y Me?). Giving me Luminous Solution vibes, so I'm waiting to binge if told it's safe.

Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) 8 eps - House of Stars meets Boyband. I was NOT impressed with ep one. Waiting to be told if I should bother.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until it completes its run.

In case you missed it

I posted 20 BLs with the BEST Thirst! and decided to distinguish the different type son need in BL as follows:

Thirst wants to slide a hand under his waistband right tf now and grind.

Horny wants to rip his clothes off, and probably pop buttons and laugh about it.

Yearning wants to run both hands up his back while they kiss deeply.

Hunger wants to lift him by the ass and slam him against the wall.

Next Week Looks Like This

(Today) 11/26 Cooking Crush (Sun YT) 1 of 12 - OffGun are back, trailer here. Adapted from the novel “Love Course! เสื้อกาวน์รุกเสื้อกุ๊กรับ” by iJune4S this is about Prem who runs a not-so-popular restaurant with 2 friends. About to go on a cooking competition with a huge reward, Prem gets involved with Ten, a stressed-out med student who wants Prem to teach him to cook.

11/30 For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 1 of 10 - high heat trailer From the people who brought us Unforgotten Night (please no) based on a y-novel, man nursing a heartbreak has a one-night stand, but the other boy didn't want it to end. It looks terribly trashy so I'm in!

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Look at how gd cute they are!

Ah yes... (both Last Twilight)

We stan a supportive bestie/brother (orphans together? - not sure on the backstory)

It is a rule universally aknowledged that an cutie in a baceball cap must get his brim tweaked. (all from The Sign)

Way is the best.

I kinda love the BTS for Pit Babe.

(Last week)

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley twins x reader]

Part 3

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1- set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

With a loud clack you were gone and appeared only moments later in a small, deserted park, surrounded by metal railings and vacant benches, knowing you had to be safe and not go straight to your destination. You set off on your little walk and in no time at all you were facing Grimmauld Place. With a flourish of you wand and a wordless charm, the building began to rumble and pull back, sliding out between the next door residences that were totally black in the dead of night until number 12 was clearly visible.

"Homenum revelio," you cast as you walked through the door, looking down at the slightly illuminated hallway, the dark walls and grotesquely gothic architecture making you feel a little more than uneasy but you couldn't allow yourself to be frightened now. Nothing happened from your spell and you realised you were entirely alone in the property, an sigh of relief falling from your lips at the revelation.

"Lumos," you said quietly as you walked deeper into the safe house, illuminated wand guiding your way, walking directly up the creaking staircase towards the third room on the right, the bedroom you'd been sharing with Fred and George only a year ago. You prayed it was still here.

You didn't divert from your path and immediately crouched down towards the small round rug in the centre of the room as you entered your old bedroom and peeled back the rug to check the floorboards beneath it. Knocking three times, then two, and saying a muffled 'revelio', you watched as the floorboard popped up out of its socket just as it had been enchanted to do. You pulled the floorboard away and smirked to yourself as you saw the very thing you'd hidden all that time ago, still in perfect condition. The marauders map.

During your last year at Hogwarts, Harry had spent an agonising amount of time following Draco on the map, so much so that it was becoming detrimental to his school work, his sleep and his life. You and Hermione had both decided to remove the map from his possession, knowing the risks that the map held if it were to get into the wrong hands and so you'd each vowed to hide the map with only the pair of you knowing it's hiding place.

Pulling the map from its confines, you uttered the words you'd heard Fred and George say so many times before and right in front of your eyes the words appeared, brown ink bleeding onto the page.

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

It took mere seconds for you to locate exactly what you were looking for, spotting the singular name on the map exactly where you'd predicted it to be. The climax of your plan could now take place.

You realised that this whole step of the plan could have been avoided but you wanted to make sure that the figure you followed on the map was exactly where you'd planned them to be, no doubt slipping into your determination.

"Mischief managed," you uttered, tapping it once with your wand and the writing began to fade away, leaving the parchment bare once again. You quickly stuffed it into the hole and replaced the floorboard, uttering the enchantment you'd placed upon it and exited the house completely. As you left, the creaking of the metal and rumble of the bricks faded into the background as the house fought to conceal itself once again.

You walked quickly back to the park and with a quick glance around to determine no one was around, you disapparated straight to your next destination.

Hogsmeade was notoriously cold early in the morning, in fact you'd called it the coldest place in the U.K. numerous times over the years and as your feet landed on the dewy ground, you had to hold back a shiver. Your stomach lurched as you landed, the multiple apparitions and disapparitions taking their toll on your body but you pressed on, wanting to get this over with.

You'd apparated just outside the border of the anti-disapparation jinx that was placed upon Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds, knowing the range of the jinx from a side along apparition you'd undertaken with Snape two years ago to collect ingredients for his personal store.

You trudged around a deserted Hogsmeade in the darkness using only your memory to guide you and appeared around the back of the only illuminated shop in the entire village; Honeydukes.

They were notorious for baking their homemade treats overnight, prepared fresh for the morning trade the next day. Fred had told you a while back that all their deliveries were made in the early morning as to have everything on hand for the busy morning rush; something he'd seen firsthand when him and George had been to visit a vacant unit in Hogsmeade after store close back when they considered expanding before putting that plan on hold. All it would take was a carefully timed entry through the small cellar door and you'd be on your way to your last destination. As you crouched in the darkness, concealed by the shadows of the nearby shops, you mentally wished that you'd managed to acquire Harry's invisibility cloak for your mission but there was no going back now.

As one worker excited the back door, leaving it swung right open, you ran in and rounded the corner, running straight down the back stairs that lead to the cellar, a route you'd taken many times with your boyfriends in your school years. With a quick look around, you lifted the slab and slipped into the passageway, carefully replacing the stone slab behind you. You breathed out a large breath and cast a light spell so that you could see, quickly making your way through the hidden passage that led to Hogwarts.

It was freezing and damp in the passageway and you briefly pined for the company of your boyfriends as you walked the long distance towards the castle. You took the time to consider how you were going to do this but quickly put it out of your mind, realising that your anger was your greatest weapon in this instance.

You finally appeared at the alcove behind the one eyed witch statue and expertly made your way around it like you had many times before, finding yourself in the deserted great staircase. Only once you'd breached the castle did the overwhelming sense of danger register with you. If Snape had turned in his allegiance, you could be in serious danger, coming face to face with a death eater, the same one that you knew had cursed your boyfriend so severely. The very thought of George lay there covered in his own blood and looking so gravely ill made the adrenaline inside you surge and suddenly you didn't feel fear anymore.

You marched directly over to the headmaster's tower, reaching the concealed gargoyle staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, or rather Snape's office now.

"Sherbet lemon," you said, expecting the staircase to appear but the Gargoyle you had seemed to disrupt from slumber suddenly cursed you out for getting it wrong. You hadn't considered that Snape would change the password, though of course it made sense.

"But, Dumbledore," you began to argue until falling silent only a moment later as the staircase opened up and slowly unfurled, making you momentarily frown in confusion.

Taking a deep breath, you ascended the moving stone staircase until you were met with the closed door to the office. You considered knocking, but thought better of it and burst through the doors, directly facing the man who had betrayed your trust.

He was sat at his desk, eyes wide open as he looks upon the indignant intrusion, first with a glare of complete outrage before it transformed into confusion and from what you could see, guilt, as he realised it was you that had stormed into his office.

It was the first time you'd seen him since the news that he had killed Dumbledore that night on the astronomy tower had spread around members of the order, though it was not known to the general public. Years of bonding and working closely together, of building something that could be described as friendship now felt fragmented and broken as you stepped into the office, your anger consuming you at his attack on George.

"Y/n," he says, rising from his seat, casting aside the book he'd been reading on the desk without thought.

"Save it," you spat out, your fury building within you as you slammed the door behind you closed with a resounding bang. You looked at him in pure disgust, with such hatred in your eyes that you could almost see his shoulders sagging under the force of your gaze. Clearly he had not expected you, nor had he expected to be on the receiving end of your fury.

"How could you?" You said, already raising your voice as the emotion overwhelms you, the memories from the formative years of you working hard under his initial harsh scrutiny, the slightly odd but important bond you'd formed, your important role working as his assistant and the time you'd shared together. "I trusted you!"

"Then you are a fool," he says quickly with a cold, dismissive tone, averting his gaze from you.

"Don't play that with me, you should know it doesn't work headmaster," you retort warningly, the last word dripping from your mouth with loaded sarcastic aggression.

You'd been used to his cold and harsh exterior, had seen it weaponised and utilised for his benefit many times before but you knew the real Snape, the intelligent and warm man underneath.

He turns and casts a few spells with a flourish of his wand that leads you to believe they are strong silencing charms as a translucent barrier forms around the room, as if keeping your conversation isolated.

"I had to watch the man I love be carried in, completely limp and haemorrhaging blood knowing there it was you that cursed him. He could have died Severus!"

"You have no proof it was me-" he begins to say, still keeping his hardened resolve, deflecting your accusations but it only infuriates you more, tears beginning to well in your eyes as the emotions overcome you completely as you interrupt his pathetic denial.

"No? I was there that night with you and Draco, remember?" You say hatefully, "I saw how that curse slashed Draco apart, the very same curse Harry found in your own copy of advanced potion making,

Sectumsempra."

For the first time since entering his office, Snape turned to look at you in shock, realising now that you knew all along. "You really believe the person that has worked with you closely and tirelessly over the years would fail to recognise your handwriting?"

He falls silent as he takes in your words, which prompts you to continue your verbal assassination.

"I saw the very same slash marks on George's head, I knew that curse could only have come from you. Funny how you knew exactly what incantation to use to heal the marks when it was an entirely unheard of curse! Do I mean that little to you that you'd go so far as to curse the ear off the man I love?! I thought we were... friends." A singular tear fell from your eye as the anguish inside you disappeared, leaving only sadness and betrayal.

He remains silent for a moment and you prepare yourself to walk out, realising this was a pointless and fruitless endeavour. Just as you turn to walk away, his quiet voice cuts through the silent, tension filled room, pausing your movement. It appears that your words and willingness to leave had broken his resolve, the truth finally coming out.

"It was never meant for George," he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. "There's so much of this you do not and cannot know but you must understand it was never my intention to hurt him, it was a miscalculation in logistics. I saw a masked one aim at Lupin and Weasley and I retaliated in kind, but it all moved so fast, the curse bounded towards him and I was powerless to stop it."

He turns to you then, looking directly into your eyes with a sadness that seemed to reach his soul.

"And to answer your question, your friendship means everything to me, you mean very much to me."

"Severus," you breath out, listening to his explanation and finding yourself believing him, though you tried to resist.

"You've always overlooked my predisposition for life's negativity, shown me kindness that no one else has in a very long time, like a beacon of goodness in what seems a lifetime of darkness and solitude. I value our friendship a great deal."

He looks up at you once again, focusing his complete attention on you.

"I'm sorry that George was hurt, it was very much never my intention. How is he?"

"Alive," you say, feeling suddenly exhausted by the journey and your emotions as you perch yourself on the edge of the chair. He nods solemnly just once, eyes lingering over you as an awkward silence falls between you both. There's so much that isn't said between you, of friendship and war and questions of loyalty, but all of those go unsaid.

"You're no longer on our side are you?" You said quietly after a moment, slowly looking up into his emotion filled eyes as you keep your tone neutral and unaccusing. You'd surmised as much, though you were loathe to actually believe it even after the events of the previous day which you assumed could only have been down to him. He had leaked the information to Voldemort, you were now sure if it. Mundungus might have had questionable morals but he wasn't brave enough to supply the death eaters with information, he'd have been too cowardly, which only left the one order member that wasn't present or assisting with the removal of Harry.

He blinks slowly and you can almost physically see him deflate as he looks into your eyes with a piercing intensity, not wanting to answer your question.

"I should go," you say, looking at the patterns in the stone floor. You don't hear a reply but you can envision him nodding in reply and so you move to stand, straightening out your jacket.

"Use the floo, Hogsmeade is no longer safe if not accompanied," he says, gesturing vaguely towards the fireplace in the corner. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace immediately ignites into green tinted flames, ready for your exit.

"Y/n," Severus says, stepping closer to you with uncharacteristic hesitation before you can step into the fire. He looks plagued, like he wants to say so much but can't for whatever reason.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, I hope one day you will understand and find it in yourself to forgive me."

You're briefly taken aback by his words, finally realising that from this point onwards you would no longer have the relationship you had always had, you'd be natural enemies on either side of a budding war. His words felt like a final goodbye and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent tears from forming in your eyes once again.

"I hope you can forgive yourself, and I don't just mean for George. I hope one day you realise that you're a good man and finally see yourself the same way I have always seen you. Goodbye Severus."

Your eyes remain locked on each other for a few moments, sad eyes meeting as you part ways, both physically and emotionally. You take a handful of floo powder and with one last look at your now ex-friend, you speak loudly and clearly into the fire, 'Diagonal Alley' before the fire consumed you and you're transported to the Leaky Cauldron, just as you had envisioned in your mind, knowing their fireplace would be one of the few open for all use even at this time of night, or rather early morning. You exit the deserted Inn and exited onto the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, walking absently until you were directly outside your boyfriends' shop.

You wheezed and caught your breath as you stood looking up at the shop, guilt niggling at you as you thought of how you couldn't go straight to the Burrow, sensing that it would give Snape the advantage of knowledge that you could no longer entrust him with, if he hadn't known already.

You walked to the door of the shop and cast the charm to unlock the door, the specific spell that Fred had created that was specific to this lock and acted as an anti-unlocking charm that couldn't be penetrated by alohamora or even the more creative unlocking spells. Once inside, you pointed your wand at the lock and cast the charm to lock the door before closing your eyes and with tired determination, you climbed the stairs until you reached the flat you lived in upstairs with Fred and George.

Fred had cast a anti-apparition jinx in the shop and the surrounding areas that they owned as a precaution and right at this moment you were mentally cursing his efforts, feeling exhausted, though apparating your current state would be incredibly dangerous anyway, the tiredness in your body and mind would most likely have gotten you splinched.

You entered your flat and immediately grabbed a glass of water, taking a seat at the kitchen table, feeling suddenly very alone without the usual company of one or both of your loves, the flat seeming empty and without life. You needed to get back before sunrise and you maybe only had an hour before the sun would begin to peak over the lowest points on the horizon so you quickly went into the bathroom to relieve yourself and wash your face, changing your clothes on the way back through.

In your note to the twins, you'd lied and stated that you needed something from home and would be nipping back to get it so you moved a couple of things around on the coffee table and kitchen, as if you'd been searching for something before walking to the bedroom you all shared and pulled out your jewellery box, reaching for the locket they had bought you on your 17th birthday. Inside was a picture of each of them, Fred on the left and George on the right you'd taken at the Yule ball all those years ago.

You'd realised during the wait for the order to return that you'd forgotten to pack it and you knew the twins wouldn't question you going back for it, knowing how sentimental you were about this particular piece, making it the perfect rouse.

Stepping towards the fire, you yawned and cast one last spell to connect the floo, seeing green flames once again rising. You thought about Severus and felt a pang of sadness hit you but you carried on regardless, feeling more than ready to crawl into bed with your boyfriends again.

Hagrid, still sleeping soundly on the floor, no doubt knocked out by his firewhiskey intake, didn't even flinch as the flames surged in the fireplace as you returned to the Burrow, feeling exhausted. Your confrontation with Snape had been tiresome but cathartic and though there was so much that went unsaid, you were pleased overall with how things had gone. You were exhausted in both body and mind but somehow you didn't feel tired, at least not tired enough to sleep. You considered making a cup of tea but with another look at a snoring Hagrid, you decided it was best not to.

You trudged up the staircase, mindfully stepping in a perfected sequence that avoided all the creaking steps and noisy floorboards until you reached the door to your boyfriends' room. You gently twisted the door handle and crept inside the mostly dark room, the essence of first light creeping in over the hills.

Immediately, you felt yourself engulfed into a large figure and had to hold back a scream at the sudden movement, realising only when the voice whisper yelled at you that it was Fred.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" He asks in a harsh whisper and you freeze, realising with one single glance at his face that you'd never seen him look so worried before.

"Had to get my necklace," you said, your gut dropping as you lied to the man you loved, feeling more than uneasy about it. To solidify your lie, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your locket to show him. He visibly took a deep breath and pulled you deep into his chest.

"Next time let me go with you, I was so worried," he says, holding you tightly in his arms. You simply nodded and allowed yourself to melt into his embrace. "He woke up, asked for you."

Suddenly your guilt felt immeasurable, not being here for your other love. "Said you'd nipped to help mum, didn't want him worrying too."

"I'm sorry Freddie," you said with full honesty, feeling ashamed.

"You're back now," he says, stroking your back, keeping you pressed into him. "You must be tired."

"Not really," you admitted. Exhausted and weary yes but you could sleep if you were paid to.

"Want to go to our spot? He'll be knocked out for a few hours now, mum topped him up with some sleeping potion," he says, gesturing towards George who is evidentially deep asleep, mouth hanging wide open and breathing deeply and steadily from what you can see over Fred's wide shoulders.

"Lead the way Weasley," you say with a smile and he steps out of the room towards the top of the staircase and with two perfectly synchronised cracks, you apparate to the spot in the forest behind the burrow you'd claimed as your own years ago.

He took your hand as soon as you'd landed and lead you further into the clearing, stopping only briefly to help you over the little wooden stump and logs that created a barrier around your spot. You each sit around the fire that Fred starts with a flourish of his wand, sitting on the larger logs around it.

"I want to feel normal again," he says quietly a little later on as you sit in silence, Fred's wand enchanting some of flames to idly play with them as you watched the sun very slowly begin to creep higher in the sky, though it was hidden by the vast number of trees around you, keeping you mostly in the dark. You turn to him with concern, seeing his eyes blankly staring at the fire, his face expressionless.

"Seeing George like that, then waking up without you there, I've never felt so lost in my life," he says.

"Freddie," you begin to apologise, feeling overwhelmed by guilt again until he shakes his head.

"I'm just so used to always having one of you there, if not both. It's never been just me, always been 'the twins' or Gred and Forge and then you came along and we became a three. For the first time tonight I had a glimpse of being alone, completely alone without you both and it was unbearable."

"You're not alone, me and George will always be there," you say, shuffling closer to him to take his hand.

"We don't know what will happen, if something happens in the war and I lose you both," he begins to say.

"Then we'll still always be with you," you say firmly, squeezing his hand to force him to look up at you which he does.

He gazes at you for what seems like forever, as if he's searching your face for something before he leans in and kisses you with surprising intensity. You kiss him back just as feverishly, your body igniting under his touch as his hand creeps up into your hair to hold you to him. His tongue licks into your mouth and massages your own tongue as his other hand begin to wander.

"I need to feel you," he says breathlessly and desperately against your lips, never quite pulling away from you, "please sweetheart, let me feel you here with me."

"Freddie, yes," you say in reply, just as breathless as he. You sense a primal need in his desperate plea and can't deny him, nor did you want to. Much to how open you had both been during your shower earlier, you couldn't help but feel the pure connection between the two of you, the desperate need for comfort in the way only you could provide.

He blindly reached for his wand, still fixed to your lips and cast a spell against your lips that made a large blanket appear, a spell you recognised him creating a few years back when you'd pulled him right here to this spot for some alone time.

The past 24 hours had been a whirlwind of emotion, loss and pain. When George had been cursed, he became your primary focus and after he was healed, you'd been hell bent on getting answers if not revenge from your ex-friend and mentor, overlooking Fred and the torment you'd endured having to wait for his return, knowing he was in danger too.

You wrapped yourself around eachother, a tangle of passionate, sloppy kisses and wandering hands as you desperately clawed at each others clothes, needing to feel each other's warm skin and beating heart against your own.

Fred ripped off your shirt and wasted no time in lifting your bra up above your breasts so that he could bend down and suck on them, both of you finding comfort in the sensation of his lips sucking at your nipples as he briefly fiddled with the clasp before throwing the garment to one side, never once pausing his assault of your sensitive nipples. You had already tore away his sleep shirt and then pulled at his pyjama bottoms to feel him naked beside you. Your jeans were shimmied off somewhere along the way and your panties were physically ripped from your body at the waistband and thrown into the distance, leaving the both of you completely bare.

"Freddie, need you, don't make me wait," you said breathlessly, pulling away from his ravishing lips, feeling them connect to your neck almost as soon as you'd began talking.

"But," he begins to protest, his hand creeping down between your thighs to test how ready you were for him, not wanting to hurt you.

"I'm ready, fuck please I need you," you begged, opening your legs further as if to beckon him to you. You heard him groan as your words, capturing your nipple between his lips once more as he shifts to move between your legs, his muscular arms bulging either side of your head as he shifts into position, needing to see your face. He kisses you again and you feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into the crease of your groin before he pulls back to adjust himself and take hold of his cock with one hand and slides into you slowly and carefully. You both erupt in moans as you feel him sink into you, not stopping until you were taking nearly every inch of his thickness.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, slowly pulling out of you before crashing his hips back into yours, making you throw your head back in pure pleasure, feeling his cock stretching you out and filling you in all the right ways. His eyes are clenched tightly shut as his mouth opens on its own accord as he begins to rock back and forth into you, building up to a slow but forceful rhythm.

Your legs wrap around his hips as your hand begin to grab at his wide shoulders, pulling him further into you as he reaches down to kiss you passionately once again. His hips speed up and he finally gives you what you want, both of you moaning once again at the change of angle, feeling him hit the deepest parts of you which makes you gasp and moan out his name.

It's primal and desperate as your bodies meld together, never really pulling apart even as his hips rock in and out of you with pure need. Neither of you can hold back your cries of pleasure, moaning each other's name and verbal curses echoing through the woods as he pounds into you. Suddenly needing something new, you place your hands on his chest and as he pauses his rhythm, you force him into his back and begin to ride him with all the strength you have left over. His big hands immediately lock onto your hips, guiding you and helping with your movements as he looks up at you with adoration in his eyes and mouth agape. His eyes are fixed onto your bouncing breasts and you make no move to conceal yourself as you bounce on his cock, hips bucking wildly and your hair falling over your shoulders. You steady yourself on his thighs as you lean back, giving him the perfect view of your bodies meeting and his cock disappearing in and out of you and he roars with arousal at the sight, hips thrusting upwards to fuck up into you as you both near your end.

Suddenly, his right hand reaches up to cup the back of your neck and he forcefully pulls you down onto him to kiss you again, sloppy kisses and teasing tongues as you lay chest to chest, his hips pounding into now. His other hand grins your hip and he lets out a loud groan against your lips as you feel him cumming. You're powerless to move as he holds you in place, fucking up into you with abandon and the sensation of him overpowering you hurtles you towards your own finish, your walls squeezing his twitching cock as you cum together, feeling his warm seed flood you from the inside.

As your orgasm ebbs away, the tingling sensation fading slowly, the world around you seemed to fade back into your conscious again. You looked down at Fred and saw him lay with his eyes closed, a peaceful look on his face with just the hint of a smirk tugging at the left side of his lips as his hands caressed your skin where he'd been holding you. His eyes slowly fluttered open a moment later and he looked up at you with love in his eyes, a look that you were certain was mirrored in your own.

You lifted your hips gently and his softening cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning in sensitivity at the sensation as you felt some of his load slipping out of you with the movement.

"I needed that," you half chuckled as you bent down and rested your head on his shoulder, legs extending either side of him so that you were essentially lay on top of him, which he was only happy to accommodate.

"Me too princess," he smirks, running his hand over your naked back. "We should get dressed, don't want you getting cold."

You dressed quickly with whatever clothes had survived your mass, frantic scrummage earlier. Fred ended up having to give you his sleep shirt as he'd literally ripped your T-shirt apart and your jeans chafed your bum uncomfortably as your panties were also beyond repair, leaving you without.

The sun had risen almost completely now, noticing as soon as you walked out of the tree line and you had no doubt that Molly would be up soon, delegating chores to every unsuspecting resident and guest. You wanted to be back with George, hopefully before he woke and so you both walked back and crept into the house, walking tiredly towards the twins bedroom where George was still sound asleep.

You took a moment to look at him, smiling and grimacing briefly as you saw the little puddle of drool that had formed on his pillow and the little snores he was omitting.

"I'll tell mum you've been brewing some healing potion all night," Fred says as you slip off your jeans, leaving you in just Freddie's T-shirt as you both slip into the small bed beside George's as Fred tucks the duvet around you both and pulls you into him so that you can cuddle into his chest. "At least you'll get some more sleep."

"Thank you Freddie, love you," you say sleepily, true tiredness hitting you immediately as you snuggled down into the soft covers.

"I love you too princess, so much," he says with a kiss to your head before your eyes close and you cuddle down into him, feeling sleep already taking over you.

Next

[marvelstars]

Anakin´s favorite food

1.- Shmi tried to treat Anakin whenever she could. Most of the food they were able to acquire resulted in very bland dishes, but on the rare occasions when Shmi had extra things to barter with, she took Anakin out to the food markets in Mos Espa. In particular, she would take Anakin to a food vendor that sold franikhad, a meat dish common on desert planets

2. Tarsh Maxers: In the novel "Outbound Flight," part of the Legends continuity that "The Clone Wars" borrows elements from, Anakin is described as enjoying Tarsh Maxers, a spicy and pungent Naboo dish made with roasted roots and grubs. While not directly shown in the show, this hints at his possible preference for bold, flavorful foods.

3. Tatooine fruit (general): Throughout the series, Anakin is frequently seen eating various fruits native to Tatootine. These include pear-shaped fruits, purple berries, and other vibrant options. This could indicate a fondness for familiar tastes reminding him of his childhood and simpler times.

4.- Ruby bliel was a gooey, tasty drink that could be found on the planet Tatooine. It was known to have been available at several cantinas on Tatooine, including Maggy the Gorgon's and the Blue Brubb in Mos Espa and stalls around Mos Espa. It was a favorite of young Anakin Skywalker, W. Wald and Kitster Chanchani Banai.[2] It was one of multiple drinks, alongside the galaxy guzzler and dusty dazzler, that could be made using a mixture of liquidized fruits and vegetables, as well as water. Its liquid form was meant to maximize liquid intake, as Tatooine's twin suns—Tatoo I and Tatoo II—gave the planet extreme temperatures.The ruby bliel was non-alcoholic.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi I recently put an ask but I forgot to add a few things sorry 😭

In book 4, when Jamil overblot, I remeber this scene where he whooped Yuu and the gang to the end of the desert and Jade said something like "I believe we're at the edge of the dimension that contains Scarabia Dorm." I don't really know much about this but does that mean the dorms are all just pocket dimensions they shove in the dark mirror? Idk if this has any significance but I'm just shocked considering how op it is. Also, idk how big Scarabia's "dimension" is but I also remember Kalim somehow managing to make a flood with his UM that went from the edge of the dimension up to the dorm where they live and stuff. And that really made me think how powerful his UM actually is considering the fact that he only needed little magic to make an actual flood. It also made me think how much stamina Floyd and Jade has since they swam through all that.

Yes, each of the seven dorms are contained in their own pocket dimension though it’s implied rather than outright stated. Considering all the crazy things magic can do, it’s not that far out of the realm of possibility if done by a particularly powerful mage. (We’ve seen Malleus pull off time stopping, right? 😂)

Just a quick correction, the dorms are not traveled to via the Mirror of Darkness. Each dorm has its separate mirror as pictured below in the Hall of Mirrors. Heartslabyul’s portal is shown here as an example:

The Mirror of Darkness is kept in its own location (the Mirror Chamber, which is NOT the same as the Hall of Mirrors despite the similar name). It is NOT used for travel to the dorm dimensions, but rather for travel to different locations across Twisted Wonderland. For example, the Mirror of Darkness is used for traveling to various hometown locations in those events.

To give you a rough idea of the distance between the Hall of Mirrors (dorm travel) and the Mirror Chamber (world travel), here is where both are situated on a map of Night Raven College.

In green is the Mirror Chamber (world travel) and in red is the Hall of Mirrors (dorm travel):

Regarding Kalim! Yes, his UM, Oasis Maker, allows him to produce a large amount of water for a smidgen of magical power. He didn’t flood the desert though, he just produced enough water to form a river the twins could swim all the way back to the Scarabia dorm building. It seems that Kalim doesn’t recognize the true potential of his UM; he says it’s pretty useless since his home country, the Scalding Sands, already has the infrastructure for potable water and waterways.

The twins having a lot of stamina doesn’t surprise me at all. They’re part moray eel, which is a predator animal. Their merforms are also very long and lithe, which is ideal for darting around in open waters.

[mendelpalace]

Various Artists - Ambient 4: Isolationism

KK Null & Jim Plotkin - Lost (Held Under)

Jim O'Rourke - Flat Without A Back

Ice - The Dredger

Raoul Björkenheim - Strangers

Zoviet*France - Daisy Gun

Labradford - Air Lubricated Free Axis Trainer

Techno Animal - Self Strangulation

Paul Schütze - Hallucinations (In Memory Of Reinaldo Arenas)

Scorn - Silver Rain Fell (Deep Water Mix)

Disco Inferno - Lost In Fog

Total - Six

Nijiumu - Once Again I Cast Myself Into The Flames Of Atonement

Aphex Twin - Aphex Airlines

AMM - Vandoevre

Seefeel - Lief

'O'Rang - Little Sister

E.A.R. - Hydroponic

Sufi - Desert Flower

David Toop / Max Eastley - Burial Rites (Phosphorescent Mix)

Main - Crater Scar (Adrenochrome)

Final - Hide

Lull - Thoughts

Thomas Köner - Kanon (Part One: Brohuk)

A 1994 studio album of new material by various ambient artists released on the Virgin Records label, part of its Ambient series. Notably, this compilation had a major impact on Matt Morgan's soundtrack for the original Fallout, with several tracks from the game resembling songs featured on Isolationism (along with a few from Aphex Twin's Selected Ambient Works, Vol.2).

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

Welcome to Feel Good News! Each week, I scour the web to bring you a collection of uplifting and positive news stories. My goal is to provide you with a dose of inspiration and hope to start your week off on the right foot.

This week, I have stories about individuals who are making a difference in their communities, companies that are doing good in the world, and much more. I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I enjoyed putting this newsletter together.

Let’s start with:

1. FDA Plans to Allow More Gay, Bisexual Men to Donate Blood

Gay and bisexual men in monogamous relationships would be allowed to donate blood without abstaining from sex under guidelines being drafted by the Food and Drug Administration, people familiar with the plans said.

The change would be a departure from U.S. policy that for many years barred men who have sex with men from donating blood. The FDA policy originated in the 1980s during the AIDS epidemic, when tests for HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, weren’t considered sensitive enough to protect the blood supply.

2. Biden-Harris Administration Makes $50 Million Available to Clean Up Orphaned Oil and Gas Wells on Tribal Lands

There are several thousand orphaned oil and gas wells on Tribal lands, jeopardizing public health and safety by contaminating groundwater, seeping toxic chemicals, emitting harmful pollutants including methane, and harming wildlife. Some of these wells are underwater, which creates an especially high risk of adverse impacts.

3. Golden bandicoots 'breeding rapidly' in the NSW outback 100 years after becoming locally extinct

The first golden bandicoots have been born in NSW's far north-west in 100 years, after formerly being extinct in the region.

Golden bandicoots have been breeding rapidly in Sturt National Park since being introduced to as part of the Wild Deserts project. There are initiatives in place as part of the project to protect native fauna from feral animals. More native species are set be reintroduced to the area and will be confirmed next year.

Cue the Crash Bandicoot references :D

4. Toledo Zoo welcomes twin polar bear cubs

Twin polar bear cubs were born at the Toledo Zoo, the zoo announced Thursday. The parents of the twin cubs are 24-year-old female, Crystal, and 18-year-old male, Nuka.

Crystal’s eighth and ninth cubs’ genders are unknown at this time. They are estimated to make their public exhibit debut in the spring of 2023.

Watch the video of the announcement here:

Feel Good News by Erica @feelgoodnwsToledo Zoo welcomes twin polar bear cubs

5. A Philadelphia woman collects thousands of stuffed animals and brings them to seniors who are in need of a Christmas gift

Santa Claus isn't the only person who travels around with a vehicle full of toys. Every holiday season, Patricia Gallagher fills her car with stuffed animals and drives around Philadelphia. She doesn't give them to kids, she gives them to seniors. 

"Who would think that elderly veterans would want stuffed animals? But they did," Patricia Gallagher said of the project.

6. 150 sea turtles saved from the cold. An aquarium in Boston has been treating "cold-stunned" sea turtles stranded on US beaches.

An aquarium in Boston has been treating "cold-stunned" sea turtles stranded on US beaches. Experts urge the public not to return stranded animals into the water.

Over 150 sea turtles have received treatment this season for "life-threatening medical conditions" prompted by hypothermia in the New England Aquarium, based in the US city of Boston.

7. 'No K-pop on a dead planet': Meet the K-pop stans taking on the climate crisis

What does Kpop4planet do?

Nurul a 23 year old fan from Indonesia and her colleagues have channeled most of their energy into six different climate campaigns. Over 33,000 fans from 170 countries have taken part in them.

The most successful of these has been ‘No K-pop on a dead planet’. It called for K-pop albums to go green by selling digital rather than physical albums, minimizing the packaging and encouraging low carbon performances.

The movement has proved popular with the fandom. For Kpop4planet work two full-time employees along with 20 volunteer ambassadors from nine countries. The group is funded by Action Speaks Louder, a charity registered in Australia who lobby to hold big companies accountable for their climate change promises.

. . .

That’s it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Have a great week ahead :)

[episodeoftv]

Round 2 of 8, Group 4 of 4

propaganda and summaries are under the cut (May include spoilers)

I Love Lucy: 2.01 Job Switching

After Ricky and Fred get upset about the girls' spending, Lucy and Ethel go to work in a candy factory while the boys do the housework.

Twin Peaks: 3.08 The Return, Part 8

Gotta light?

Part 8 is easily the grandest, most horrifying, most expansive, and most beautiful episode of television to ever grace the screens. If David Lynch has spent his career peeling back the surfaces of quaint towns to explore the roots of evil in humankind, this is where he puts all of his cards on the table. Broken into five more or less distinct parts that seem to have nothing to do with each other but really have EVERYTHING to do with each other, Lynch and Frost take us to the very edges of the world: a '40s New Mexico desert is cracked open by an atomic bomb shot greater than that of Oppenheimer from where a great evil is born; a wailing, lonely rock anthem is performed on a roadhouse stage; a doppelganger is shot in the wilderness and revived by soot-covered, shadowy woodsmen that smear his blood over their semi corporeal, tv-static-like bodies; a woman and a giant listen to distorted jazz and watch the White Sands test from some liminal netherworld; a woodsman terrorizes a '50s town and repeats some truly terrifying dialogue while a pair of sweethearts share a chaste kiss. All of this, in black and white and near silence. Part 8's expressionistic, utopian hellscape escapes all genres and narrative confines, even that of the surreal. There is nothing like this episode to haver ever existed before, and it's unlikely there ever will be again.

[codywanreversebang]

Codywan Reverse Bang 2023: Masterlist Part 1

Team 1

codywan reverse bang - pokemon au [Art] by @cmarani

a heart so true [10.8k] by @sarmaril

At the tender young age of eleven, Cody Fett believed he knew exactly what love at first sight felt like. Or; Cody has his sights set on the Pokémon League. It's not going to be easy training his way to the top. He can't just leave home at ten and charge Tauros-headed through the Galax region like some kids can. He has to spend his time helping his family's daycare in Kamino City, but Cody's not going to let that stop him... And maybe if along the way he gets to hold hands with Professor Jinn's cute assistant then he certainly wouldn't complain.

Team 2

codywan reverse bang - stained glass [Art] by @cmarani

Until We Meet Again [5.1k] by @geodax

After deserting the Empire that raised him and his brothers, Cody finds himself on a isolated planet. There, he finds a face he never wanted to see again.

Team 3

Team 3 [Art] by @madbunnyarts

Rewinding the Skein [8.5k] by @itsgoldleaf

He’s seen the creases of that palm before. Another thing he doesn’t remember. He walks towards the alley. The first sun drops lower. The footsteps behind him are as loud as the blood in his ears. Or: Ben goes to market and comes home with more than dried fruit.

a remedy painted blue [20.2k] by @ihathbenobiwankenobied

After ten years trying to keep his head down on Tatooine, Cody finds Obi-Wan lost in a life he never planned on living. It's not what they dreamt about during the war, but perhaps together they can make it work. Except Cody has a secret he didn't know he was keeping. And it might just tear them apart.

Behind the Scenes [10k] by @catfur-and-greenscales

“Spare any credits?” Obi-Wan stopped on the spot, feeling a cold sensation creeping down his spine. He knew that voice as he had heard it hundreds of thousands of times. With wide eyes Obi-Wan turned around and saw a man, not anyone he could say he knew, but those features were more than familiar to him. Perhaps the Force could have provided him more information, but he dared not to use it to reach for the man. It had been ages since the last time, so starting now was not an option. For a moment they both were just staring at one another, until the rough looking man lifted his bandaged arm, with a helmet. Obi-Wan could not help himself but … There was no facial scar. And there shouldn't have been, since even after everything, the man in front of him was still wearing the colors of the 501st. This man was not Cody. Of course not. He should have known better to not hope. But the seconds their eyes were locked felt too long to Obi-Wan. The tension was broken only when the clone just lifted his bucket a little higher and said:“Help a veteran to get a warm meal.”

Team 4

Team #4 - CodyWan Reverse Bang 2023 [Art] by @djk-creations

Twin Suns on the Horizon [22.9k] by @tyedyeboogers

Out on the hots sands of Tatooine anything can happen. For the people that live there, it is a fight of survival. For the Hutt who lords over them, it's resting on his ill gotten laurels. For the two gunslingers with a bone to pick - well, that's something entirely new. A Codywan Cowboys Story

cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other [5.5k][WIP] by @catsnkooks

A new sheriff has come to Freetown, the town Ben has established himself in after the rise of the Empire. Sheriff Cody Fett isn't someone he was expecting, with his determination to make Freetown a place for everyone, away from the shackles of the ever-encroaching Empire, and it's not long before Ben finds himself falling for the selfless sheriff. But when Ben's past comes knocking on the door, threatening the livelihood of everyone in Freetown, he knows he must act to save everyone he loves in his town, which has now come to include a certain sheriff in his life.

Team 5

Team 5 [Art] by @nhyhu

Tied [17k] by @insertmeaningfulusername @embeanwrites @wixiany

Qui-Gon is gone and Obi-Wan, freshly promoted to a Jedi Knight, needs to take care of a Padawan of his own, but doubts and insecurities plague him. Elsewhere in the galaxy, Cody and his brothers are struggling through rigorous training on the water planet of Kamino. They meet and start working together once the Clone Wars begin. They steal comfortable and quiet moments with each other, slowly working their way towards more than just a friendship between Commander and General. But the war is relentless. In a skirmish, Cody is fatally injured. Obi-Wan reaches deep into the Force and into himself to change Cody’s fate, and in doing so, a powerful Force bond is created. Now, they will have to navigate the war and their growing affection alongside an as of yet unprecedented bond. or: Obi-Wan and Cody's journeys before and throughout the war and their relationship (in 3 parts)

Team 6

Art for I Will Support You (Even When You Fall) [Art] by @commanderfoxtheshield

I'll support you (even when you fall) [8.6k] by @robyn-hoood

The offer is also tempting for another reason; from here, he can spot the two figures on the front page, limbs poised in a graceful arc as the smaller figure is lifted up by the other, spotlights bathing them in golden light. Dance therapy, he thinks, quietly mulling it. A class that paired up veterans with volunteers to teach them how to dance to cope with PTSD, a year-long program that ended with a small competition with a small monetary prize. A tiny part of him, a part that suspiciously sounds like his younger, college-attending self, perks up in interest. He quickly pockets the flyer, and stands up. She startles slightly, but settles down with his next words: “I’ll think about it.” . . . . . Or, veteran Cody Fett and dancer Obi-Wan Kenobi are paired up for a dance competition. It all goes downhill from there.

[im-writing-extra]

finally finished chapter four and I’m going to do some good work on chapter five. that one is my fave so far

I am sorry that’s we’ve been slow to the romance. We’ll get there I PROMISE and then there’s no going back🤭

table of contents

chapter 4 - reference this open part of me

The humming gets louder with each step and with each crunch of dirt under your boots, you become more of the cave.

Ghosts of Jelucani miners pass by you, going about their business at first. You hear the clang of their picks and taste metal on your tongue. The peaceful visions soon transform into horror, as the ghosts rush past you with faces distorted by fear. 

You feel it, terrible and visceral. Your heart’s beating faster than it should, and you grip your lightsaber tighter. The blue light mingles with the yellow from Yord’s, casting a not-quite green glow but the only thing really keeping you grounded is the sound of the nearby kyber crystal.

“We’re close,” you grit out in response to Yord’s unasked question. “Turn here.”

“It’s off the path,” Yord says, but he follows anyway.

You turn a sharp corner and find yourselves in a large cavern with multiple outlets. The two of you switch off your lightsabers; the cavern shines with a luminous glow from the kyber crystal, embedded on a wall of fogstone.

“Well,” says Yord. “We found the crystal. But no monsters. I wonder if there’s a toxin in here that’s been causing hallucinations.”

You shake your head, eyes fixed on the kyber. “Absolutely not. Just because we haven’t seen anything doesn’t mean it’s safe. We’ll get the crystal then we’ll keep going.”

Yord isn’t paying attention. “I hear something,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

“No, wait, Yord-“ you say but it’s too late, he’s disappeared. You sigh. So much for all his talk about sticking together. Oh well. He’s not far off, and you’ll join him in a moment. 

The kyber crystal is high out of reach, but it’s going to be an easy enough climb to get it. You take a step and in the space it takes to blink, you’re in a desert.

Navy blue sand forms large, barren dunes under a bloodied sun filtered by clouds of smoke. The air is stifling, and reeks of death.

You can feel the cave no longer. Yord’s heartbeat is far from you, and for a brief moment you wonder if you’ve died.

But no. This cannot be what it means to become one with the Force. There is no peace, no serenity.

There is only emptiness.

No.

I am one with the Force.

You spin, lightsaber ignited against an arm swinging toward you. They meet with a buzzing clang and for a moment, your blade crackles. For the first time, you are really and truly afraid.

This has nothing to do with the nervousness you felt the night before. This is fear, real and palpable.

The arm pulls away, fades into smoke, and reforms into a being.

“Jedi,” it hisses.

Your lightsaber is still in a defensive position. This is the Force, corrupted as the Sith of old. Chills spread up your arms, and your chest tightens. You have no frame of reference for what stands before you but as you will dark sand out of your eyes, you know.

There is no way out but through.

“Let me go in peace,” you say despite the fear settling in your chest, “or we will continue in violence.”

The entire desert shakes in laughter. You watch as the sun descends, splitting into two as the smoke being grows to fill the air around you.

The ends of your hair begin to singe with the heat, but you dig your heels into the sand. The newly-formed twin suns blink and you realize they have become eyes.

“You cannot kill me, Jedi. I know who you are. You serve a cause that does not care for you. One of hypocrisy. One that turns a blind eye to way of the world. I exist to bring order to the galaxy. Your fear consumes you. I am inside of every living thing. I am inside of you.”

You smile. The being has made a critical mistake. You are no longer afraid as you breathe in, feeling the desert plants gasping for water and the buried bones of those come before you. All are one.

“You’re wrong,” you say simply. You think of Master Yoda and of Yord. Sweet Yord who has been there from the beginning; so inflexible with his ideas of propriety, but never once has he let you down. “The Jedi do care for me. You, however, do not. I feel the bones of Jedi beneath this sand; you would consume me as you did them. You say you know me, but who are you?”

The being rumbles, “I am Death.”

“I am one with the Force. What is death but a different sort of life?”

The being laughs, distorts, multiplies. “Then I am mistaken,” it choruses. “I am Nothing. I am the End.” Smoke races toward you but you don’t swing at it; instead you hold your lightsaber high as a beacon. You’re listening, straining your ears.

One of the most useful things Master Yoda ever taught you was that if there is at least one way in, there is at least one way out. You’re certain your step toward the kyber crystal is what brought you here, so you listen until you hear exactly two things:

The first is Yord, breathing in and out.

The second is the low hum of the kyber crystal.

You close your eyes, smoke clogging your lungs and vision as you press forward toward the sound.

In your mind’s eye, you see the cavern. You see the crystal shining with a dim glow on its fogstone shelf.

Hands grab at your shoulders, waist, and legs, pulling you back. You choke.

You holster your saber and muster all your strength to break free, kyber crystal clear in your mind.

I am one with the Force.

In desperation you reach for the crystal. It trembles, loosens, but a yell from deeper in the cave causes it to overshoot; slicing a deep line in your palm. “Kriff,” you swear, uncaring that you’re a Jedi and foul language is beneath you. 

You clench your palm into a fist, feeling a flash of pain as the crystal is pressed into the gash. You swear again then drop it into your right hand. 

It’s warm, no longer the cold piece of rock kyber remains until united with a Jedi. 

You watch in fascination as it pulses with a dull blue sheen before it absorbs the blood from your hand. It swirls inside the crystal, turning it a brilliant white that illuminates the whole cavern. 

I am one with the Force.

The light turns inward, traveling in a blaze up the veins in your arm through your chest and spilling out your eyes.

Someone’s screaming; whether it’s you or the being, you can’t tell. Maybe it’s both. 

It doesn’t really matter because the light streaming out of you is blinding, so bright that you try to close your eyes despite the fact they’ve been closed this whole time. You wrench them open to find your self back in the cavern, kyber crystal clenched in your left hand. You’re not sure how it got there, but it’s pressed into the very real gash in your hand.

You slip it into your pocket and shake your head in an attempt to clear it. You’ll try to make sense of what happened but for now, you need to find Yord.

Another yell echoes through the cavern.

“Yord!” you shout, running toward the noice.

He calls your name and you follow it. “Yord!”

You come to a fork in the road and turn right without hesitation. You could find him anywhere. You’ll worry about getting out of here once he’s safe.

Yord’s kneeling on the ground beside a stream, head tilted back to the ceiling. As you get closer, you see his eyes are rolled back into his head. He opens his mouth to groan and black smoke spills out. The same kind you saw in the desert.

On instinct, you grab his face with both hands. The smoke disappears with a hiss, and Yord’s eyes come back to normal. He blinks, shakes his head; a mirror of you a few minutes prior.

“What happened?” he asks. “I was- I don’t know. I’ve never- We have to inform the Council.”

“We have to get out of here,” you say, exasperated. The Council is low on your list of priorities at the moment. “Come on.”

You turn back the way you came and are met with a stone wall.

You mouth kriff, and spin around to Yord.

“We’re stuck.”

He grimaces and opens his mouth to respond, but is silenced by a sound down a fogstone corridor you hadn’t noticed before.

“Yord!” calls a voice. “Yord, I’m down here! Where are you?”

He looks first at you then toward the voice.

“Yord!” calls the voice again, the one that’s identical to yours.

“Yord,” you say slowly, “that’s not me. I’m me. I don’t know what that is, but we have to get out of here.”

There’s a deep crease in his brow as he studies your face. “You feel different,” he says.

You can’t believe this. There is no way he thinks the voice is you. There’s no way he’s going further into the mine, further into the vergence instead of looking for an exit with you.

“Yes, Yord, we’re in a cave on a vergence and something weird happened with the kyber crystal and I’ll tell you about it once we get out. But we need to go and call the Council.” You’re beginning to feel exasperated, frustrated by the fact that he doesn’t trust you. It’s unnatural, in a way. He always trusts you.

“Yord, help!” shouts Not-You and before you can stop him, he’s gone again.

“Kriff,” you say, short and swift. You run after him, lightsaber ignited and trailing behind you.

You come to an abrupt halt. The path has widened into a cavern, much larger than the first and although you’ve been going downhill, you’re almost certain it’s near the entrance.

Yord has stopped in the middle, staring at a shadow. 

“Yord,” the shadow says again, moving out of the darkness. It’s shaped like you, walks like you, talks like you. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Not-You steps into the light, all gray skin and limp hair.

“I told you that wasn’t me,” you gripe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

Yord throws a worried glance at back you, hesitant to take his eyes of Not-You for more than a moment. She laughs, bouncing of the stone and ignites a lightsaber. It crackles filling the air with the same energy you felt in the desert.

Yord ignites his in kind, running to swing at her.

You take half-a step to follow him, but are stopped by a hand on your shoulder. On instinct, you shrug it off; whirling around to come face-to-face with Not-Yord.

Time seems to freeze as you take him in, frozen with the shock of seeing rotting, but a shooting pain from the cut in your left palm brings you back to reality.

Not-Yord swings and you block, but he’s stronger than you. As he bears down, you’re caught in his hauntingly hollow eyes. It takes all your strength to prevent his lightsaber from pushing yours into your face. As you struggle to overpower him you notice his lips are black. 

Blood spills out as he laughs.

You duck and break away. Not-Yord cackles as his lightsaber buzzes past your ear. It all seems to be happening in slow motion, your movements weighted as if you are underwater.

Dimly, you’re aware of Yord fighting the Not-You. She fights in a parody of your style, just a bit more blunt and a bit more sloppy.

But you can’t focus on that now. You have to trust Yord and fight your own battle so you assess; if Not-You is fighting like you do, then it stands to reason that Not-Yord would fight like real Yord.

And you know all of his weaknesses.

Yord primarily stays in Form III, Soresu; effective for deflecting blaster fire with applications in close combat, but repetitive in movement. 

As you block and parry, you take note of Not-Yord’s strikes. He lands a powerful blow, knocking you into a stalactite. Blood runs down the side of your head and you will it away from your eyes. You count, one, two-

There it is.

His lightsaber meets yours and at just the right moment, you switch yours off. Not-Yord is thrown forward, off balance, giving you the perfect opportunity to strike.

His head falls to the dirt with a howl and a stream of thick smoke. As soon as his body hits the ground you turn, leaping on a rock for height as you bear down on the horrible facsimile of yourself. She’s so busy attacking Yord that she doesn’t notice your lightsaber slicing her in half until it’s too late. She falls apart in the same smoke as Not-Yord, and you watch as their bodies dissipate entirely.

“Well,” you say, breathing heavily, “I think it’s time for us to go.”

next chapter

[duckapus]

Squid Memes Squidbeak Splatoon (part 2)

Part 1 Here

More Harbor because he gave me Brain Worms

Born and Raised in Littol Beeg Bluff (yes the same Littol Beeg Bluff from "The Ballad of Dusty Grumpton" in the Factory Reset AU. I'm allowed to re-use my own ideas if I damn well please)

Comes from a blended family, and his stepmom and younger siblings (twin boy and girl around eight) are actually Koopa Troopas of all things.

The only playable Agent to both know and like his parents

Seriously Habor's moms are fucking awesome. Everybody in the NSS loves Harbor's moms

About 80% Humboldt Squid (aka Jumbo Flying Squid), which is why he's so fucking tall. It also means that he's really fast in swim form, to the point that he could probably outswim someone who'd filled all the slots on a piece of gear with Swim Speed Up without any Swim Speed Up investment of his own. (this is inspired by Lucky, another, very different version of Agent 4 made by EikaPrime on Ao3)

Eight

Yes she just goes by Eight. She was a little self-conscious about it at first but then she found out about SMG4 and the other SM64 Blooper Youtubers and no longer gives a shit

If she remembers her old name yet she's not mentioned it

Obviously doesn't remember her parents, but given the Domes are the kind of place where you can Start Training to Become an Advanced Military Hardware Engineer and Elite Soldier at Fucking Nine Years Old, I imagine she wouldn't have many memories of them even without the Amnesia

Contrary to popular fanon, my version of Eight doesn't have a scar from the Test Failed Bomb. This is because Respawn Pads (as long as they're fully functional) completely erase whatever the fatal injury was, leaving no trace apart from maybe some phantom pains if it was particularly nasty

She does, however, have plenty of scars from all the other shit she went through in that hellhole

Managed to complete every single test before she escaped

My version of Eight is a single year younger than Marina canonically is when they meet so I'm not going the Off the Hook Adoption route for this one (maybe in another AU with a more lose interpretation of Canon, but given this AU is specifically meant to adhere to Splatoon Canon as much as possible we're out'a luck this time), though she does still become very close friends with them

She's got Craig literally right there for any potential adoption attempts anyway

Very rarely speaks, but is expressive enough that most people can tell what she means anyway (you know Ferb? It's the exact same thing as what Ferb does)

Doesn't have a weapon preference. She's comfortable with any weapon she gets her hands on

Except Splatanas

She fucking hates Splatanas and everything they stand for

Configuring Frye's Palette in the Memverse was legitimately harder than dealing with her own Palette's stupid "Hacks or Chips, you can't have both" Gimmick Bullshit

Andi Finn

Has no fucking idea who her parents were and does not care

Actual supergenius who could probably build a functioning replica of Grizz's rocket out of scrap metal from just her memory of fighting on top of it. Never learned how to read before the NSS got ahold of her because she lived alone in the desert

Swears more than Bob

Can't remember where she learned Salmonid from

Somehow even the homeless kid has better hygiene than Paige

Made up her last name on the spot when she was signing up for a Turfing License (if you're wondering how she managed to sign up for a Turfing License when she couldn't read; With Great Difficulty)

Figures she probably isn't a full Inkling given her weird beartrap beak but doesn't give enough of a shit to take a DNA test about it

Yet

Paige dragged her home to their apartment almost immediately after the final battle against Mr. Grizz and she never left. It's not an official adoption but that's only because Paige is a bit oblivious to their own feelings on the matter and Andi doesn't know that paperwork is supposed to be involved

Almost exclusively calls Paige "Cap" even when they're out of uniform. I mean, she can't very well call them "Mom" or "Dad" since they're nonbinary, now can she? Paige has no idea that's what she means by it and just thinks it's a nickname because Andi gives everybody nicknames. Usually as insults

It took her 333 tries to get through "Splitting Crosshairs" (I legitimately Cannot beat that stupid kettle no matter how hard I try and want her to share my frustration but also want all four agents to have 100%ed their respective adventures so I'm just having it take her a comically long time to do)

Mains Explosher because it's the closest she can get to a Turf-Legal grenade launcher (for now...)

The Eternal Hunger, Devourer of the Bear

Is fine with people using Crabcake instead

Uses It/Its exclusively

Officially designated Agent 5 I will die on that hill

Was "The Eternal Hunger, Stabber of Ankles" before going through Return of the Mammalians

Will stab anyone who points out that it didn't actually eat Mr. Gizz, he just exploded

Extremely eloquent, but most people can't speak Salmonid so it just sounds like it's making the same gurgley noises as every other Smallfry

Once looked Marie dead in the eyes and said "No one will ever believe you" in perfect Inklish while they were alone. Has never said anything else in anything other than Salmonid where someone can hear it

Andi and Crabcake fucking hated each-other for the first third of their adventure before bonding over kicking Frye's ass and now they're inseparable

Actually gets its own uniform after everything's said and done. It consists of a little high-rez safety vest (like the one on Paige's field uniform), an earpiece (suction-cupped in place since it doesn't have external ears) in the same style as Andi's headset, and a clean black-with-thin-yellow-racing-stripes-on-the-sides pants...wrap...thing

It also got a new switchblade from Sheldon (the old one got lost in the space battle after it turned into Hugefry) with the same kind of black-with-blue-LEDs aesthetic as Paige's gear and a blade made of Sardinium

Also thinks that it and Andi are already adopted by Paige but that's for Salmonid Culture Reasons instead of Not Having an Education Reasons

Got separated from its swarm during a Run a few months before Return of the Mammalians. It wasn't too fussed about it and figured it could handle itself in the desert for a while and then either reunite with that swarm if it ran into them or join a new one if it happened to come across one. Because Salmonid Culture

Considers the NSS its current swarm

[samanddean76]

by SamandDean76

I’ll Show You Heaven If You Let Me | Mature | 11.3k words (Mafia AU)

Omega Dean Winchester just wanted to take out his recycling in peace. But he finds a mystery Alpha unconscious on the ground, stashed behind the bins. Dean gets him inside, but then work calls. Once Dean returns home, he finds that the mystery Alpha Castiel is recovered, and he's waiting to claim the Omega that saved him.

The only problem? They're on opposite sides of the law. Now Dean has to risk all to earn back his freedom. But will he lose his true mate along the way?

Entirely Unacceptable | Mature | 10.7k words (Royalty AU)

Alpha Castiel has unexpectedly acquired a very well-trained Omega Dean when he escorted his brother Gabriel to a public auction house. But the Omega he brought home harbors not only secrets, but enemies as well. Will they survive long enough to reach their happy ending? And can they really be true mates if neither is sure that they even believe in such a thing?

Love, rescue, and some revenge in a modern day A/B/O setting.

Alpha Seeking Omega | Mature | 66.6k words (Dystopian AU)

Omega Dean has lived a harsh life prior to being selected to be a demonstration model at a party unveiling the latest product that Morningstar Enterprises is set to produce. Alphas Castiel and Jimmy Novak are guests of honor at the event, but when they lay eyes on the Omega that is clearly at the center of something that was not a part of the party, the twins leap into action. Unfortunately, they are separated. Now Jimmy must keep Dean safe until Castiel can be rescued.

But the more that Jimmy learns about this very well-trained Omega, the more he questions what was really going on that night. The problem is will he be able to figure out the puzzle and still rescue his brother?

Letting Fate Decide | Mature | 14.6k words (A/B/O AU)

Castiel is a new Omega in the big city. He meets the Alpha for him in the form of a fry-cook named Dean Winchester. But a military commander pulls Dean in for a mission and as Castiel waits he is taken by Lucifer to be added to one of his many Omega brothels. There he meets an Omega named Gabriel who helps him to survive. Little does he know that Gabriel is longing to be reunited with his one true Alpha, Sam Winchester.

The Spirited Sprite | Explicit | 8.1k words (Fantasy AU)

Alpha Castiel is the destined true mate of Sprite Dean. But an ancient curse and an unjust punishment threatened to keep them apart. As Dean heals Castiel, will the secret Dean keeps hidden lead to their happy ending, or their being torn apart once more?

How To Accidentally Create Soulmates | General | 2k words (Just Fun AU)

Gabriel was given a brand-new and very important responsibility by Chuck. To oversee the soul nurseries in heaven. Well, Gabriel delegated this boring task to Castiel.

I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

To Know Him Is To Love Him | Explicit | 6.5k words (Hunter Corp AU)

John Winchester is very concerned. On what should be one of the happiest days of his life, the wedding of his oldest child Dean to the absolute love of his life Castiel, both grooms and Sam are missing. John calls upon Gabriel, a Supernatural Consultant for Hunter Corp, and then sets out to find the missing men. Just hoping that he’s not too late to walk his son down the aisle.

A Valentine’s Day adventure with a little peril, a lot of love, and quite the happy ending!

Well, I Never Been To Heaven | Mature | 23,654 words (Season 4 AU)

Dean Winchester is living a plain, ordinary, and boring life. Until one day a new student shows up in the little town of Spain, SD. It’s love at first sight, but then an unimaginable tragedy happens, and Dean is left alone in his misery. Or is he a student attending Oxford University on a full athletic scholarship who finds a familiar face in his coxswain? Or is he hiking in the desert and attempting to save a known stranger? Or is he a traveler who stops for the night at a cheap motel and finds the pizza man of his dreams? Or is he none of those things? Just an unwitting victim of fate and destiny?

Castiel had led the assault on hell, in order to save the righteous man and prevent the first seal of the apocalypse from being broken, lest hell should be allowed to reign on earth. In the aftermath of his disastrous mission, he is being held captive by Alastair, and his image is being used in a final, determined attempt to break Dean.

But the profound bond that Castiel feels towards the pure soul won’t allow him to go down without a fight, and he makes a desperate prayer to his very old friend to set in motion a chain of events that might save him and his beloved mortal, or possibly, doom them for all eternity.

Love You With All My Heart | Explicit | 15,469 words (Beatles AU)

Dean is an up-and-coming musician, who along with his brother Sam, has finally started to make waves with their band, The Quarrymen. Little does he know that the perfectly innocent Omega sitting in the front row of The Cavern Club, watching him perform with an enchanting smile, is the True Mate he has been longing for his entire life.

Castiel can hardly believe his luck, when he and Gabriel are invited backstage after the show. Once Gabriel slips away with Sam, Castiel is left alone with the incredibly handsome Alpha who spent the entire show singing every single song to him. But the club is raided before they can cement their bond, and Castiel is forced to flee into the night.

Whisked away by an overprotective mother, Castiel doesn’t know if he will ever see Dean again. He seeks solace in writing his poems, and fervently wishes that one day he will be reunited with the man he loves, not knowing that destiny and fate are working to bring the separated mates back together.

Betting Against The House | Explicit | 15,805 words (Mob AU)

What started as nothing more than a quest to avenge the death of his brother Gabriel, led Castiel to become the most prolific assassin to have ever lived. After he succeeded in taking out the head of the Winchester Crime Family, he was taken in by the Novak Syndicate. But Michael began to fear the monster he’d helped create and betrayed Castiel.

Dean knew he held all the power, in possession of a secret that would level the playing field. He knew that toying with the captured assassin might not end well, but he found that he simply couldn’t help himself.

Simple and straightforward went right out the window when Lady Luck got her hands on the brand-new deck of cards. Stacking them, so her favorite Alpha and Omega would have a chance to make all their dreams come true.

More coming soon…

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins X Reader]

Part 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

This one hit me in the feels 🥀

You'd never ran through the school corridors in such a hurry in your life, not even when you, George and Fred had repeatedly evaded Filch after late night trips to the kitchens and after nighttime pranks. But in stark contrast to those previous times, you felt no excitement or elation, only pure dread and adrenaline.

As you ran out into the main atrium you could see the full extent of the devastation, broken walls with debris everywhere, injured students still fighting and even worse, bodies littering the floor. You tried not to look, the pit in your stomach only increasing as you hoped with all your might that your boyfriends bodies or loved ones were not amongst the deceased. Deatheaters were everywhere, flying and appearing out of thin air in their puff of black smoke.

You ran out of the main doors and Harry immediately blocked you all, shielding you and pushing you back around the corner as a deatheater awaits just around the corner prepared to smite anyone who exited. Harry casts a stunning spell and the sole deatheater flies back and knocks into a wall. The courtyard is pure chaos, giants roaming the stone floor and knocking down opponents with their weapons, people on brooms attacking from above, deatheaters taking on students as more brickwork and stone fell from above, the fixtures destroyed by misfired curses and spells. You ran for cover inside the giant bell as the giant spotted the four of you, his weapon creating a resounding clang on the metal bell which rendered you dead for a moment, ears ringing with the noise. You ran out and immediately faced a swarm of acromantula's which caused a frightened, unintelligible noise to fall from your lips and had you turning quickly in the opposite direction, back towards the giant as you bolted between his legs, narrowly avoiding the sythe-like weapon he was sporting.

You ran towards the external corridor and rounded the corner only to find it deserted except for one heinous animal and it's poor, familiar victim. Fenrir Greyback.

He looks up the moment you freeze near him, his mouth covered in blood that was dripping from the neck of Lavender Brown who lay on the floor unmoving and pale, her eyes fixed into the distance.

"Hello again beautiful," he drawls, looking up towards you and before you can even think of a reply, Hermione blasts him through the corridor walls, sickened and haunted by his presence. You cast a look to Lavender wishing you had the time to lay a sheet over her at least but you don't have time, not at all.

You find your way to the main bridge and stop, each of you looking ahead with petrified glances. The sea of dementors hovering towards you was a frightening sight but you no longer felt fear, the urge to get to the boathouse too strong and so you pulled all the power you could from inside you.

You pull out the Lebetum that has begun vibrating once again in your pocket. The doe is immediately looking at you and you instinctively know what to do, somehow.

You quickly think of the happiest memory you could, needing it to be strong. You think of the first night you'd moved in to the flat above the shop with the twins, all of you able to spend the whole night together after being separated for a few weeks. That night you all slept in the extra large custom made bed, cuddled together and wrapped in a mess of limbs, snuggled between both of your boyfriends as the soothing rain poured down outside, rhythmically tapping the window.

"Expecto Dominum Meum," you said clearly, reading the words that had appeared on the black device as the doe burst free from the device. You took a breath and pulled out your wand,

"Expecto Patronum!"

Your weasel patronus burdtnout from the top of your wand and met with the doe mid-air. The two danced around eachother as if reunited before clearing away every one of the dementors in a magnificent rush. When another wave of dementors hits, you see another blue light from behind you, a large goat that transforms into a shield of light, casting away all the other dementors. You turn in shock and see Aberforth holding out his wand and aiming right for the sea of approaching dementors. You hardly have time to see the others around him as you turn back to look at your patronus in the distance, still encircling the doe which is a metre away from you now, urging you forward.

You run down the countless stone steps towards the boathouse with an urgency you had never felt, knowing that Severus was in trouble. You also knew the snake was there, which was not an optimal position to be in. The closer you got to the snake, you could feel it, your blood seeming to get colder as your limbs felt loose and numb, almost like something was crawling on you. You're one with the snake, beginning to feel and hear everything that she can, and you realise quickly that she is far from alone with Snape in the damp, rundown boathouse.

"He's there, you-know-who, he's there with them," you gasp out, trying to fight off the connection you felt to the snake whilst trying to catch your breath.

"The invisibility cloak, Harry!" Hermione says as you all come to a stop at the very last step leading to the small dock. Harry pulls out the invisibility cloak and drapes it around you all as you walk in perfect synchronisation, quietly and a little apprehensively towards the outbilding, keeping to the shadows to add an extra layer of protection. You approach a streaky, dirty pane of glass and position yourself down onto the ground, watching as the patronuses disappear into the water, leaving you in near complete darkness, only the moonlight and swinging, backlit torches illuminating the building.

In the mercurial light, you can make out two prominent figures, one that is wholly familiar and the other is a nightmare you'd only created in your sleep, never having been so close to the dark Lord himself. You don't see the snake, but you can sense it's presence nearby.

"You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand, my Lord. In the last few hours alone," you hear Snape's distinctive deep tone and languid delivery, making an emotion build within you that you couldn't place.

"No! I am extraordinary, but the wand resists me," Voldemort says, moving closer to Snape who stands resolute. His voice is breathy and cold, reminiscent of slithering as you realise how very snake like he sounds.

"There is no wand more powerful. Ollivander himself said it. Tonight, when the boy comes to you, it will not fail you, I am sure. It answers to you and you only," you sense a very brief hesitation to his words and just as you listen in, you feel it. The snake appears, circling around the feet of both men within the boathouse, slipping along the wet and rough floorboards inside the boathouse, their very presence the epitome of threat.

"Does it?" You don't miss the slightly goading tone to Voldemort's words, denoting that he doesn't quite believe Severus' words.

"My Lord?"

"The wand. Does it truly answer to me?" You watch as the dark wizard begins to circle your potions master, tension building within you. You watch Snape's demeanour, his face, calm and composed but then you notice the hand concealed behind his back, twitching and squeezed white with tension.

"You're a clever man, Severus. Surely you must know. Where, Severus? Where does its loyalty lie?"

You feel the snake inching closer, like it's crawling through your body and you're able to see multiple perspectives when you close your eyes. You can see the bottom of the dark, frayed robes of Severus, his black leather shoes that have not been polished in some time and for a moment you have to hold on a gasp as you feel Severus look at you. You realise moments later that he was looking at the snake, eyeing it with caution and is encircles him and his master in a threatening display. Snape then turns back to Voldemort to see him staring in wait.

"With you, of course, my Lord."

Voldemort simply stares at Severus with an expression you cannot see due to his new position. He finally speaks, "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master." There's a foreboding pause that seems to increase the tension, as if Voldemort was pausing for effect. Your gaze flicks to Harry briefly who watches on intently, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he's considering the words, reliving that night.

"The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. Ollivander was quite explicit about that. You killed Dumbledore, Severus. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine. You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus."

There's another pause and you begin panting, realising much too late what is going to happen before your very eyes.

"But only I can live forever..."

Voldemort's words are eerily calm and collected, his cold and uncaring nature showing through as he sweeps his arm away, flicking his wrist. You can't look anymore and turn away, trying desperately to think of any way you could stop this.

"My lord?" Snape's voice says questioningly and you can't help but shed tears.

Suddenly, there's a giant thud on the window pain and your immediately know that it's the body of your mentor, dying right before your eyes.

"Nagini, kill."

You immediately begin scrambling to exit the cloak, trying desperately to reach Severus in time regardless of the consequences of your actions but Ron reaches for you and holds you down with a bruising force, stopping you from going after him. Harry joins in and holds you back with Ron, realising that he wouldn't be able to hold you alone, the adrenaline and grief running through your body too much to bare.

You fight against Ron and Harry with all your strength, trying desperately to pull away to help him, but you're immediately consumed by the cold and blood curdling sensation of being the snake, your eyes blurring with tears that fall from your eyes without hesitation. You're in the body of the snake, trapped and forced to watch and feel it's every moment as it launches itself at your beloved friend. Three consecutive thuds ring out into the air as the snake attacks. You feel everything, the blood-lust and vengeance like hunger of the snake, the willingness to obey Voldemort's orders and the satisfaction of carrying out such duties under his command.

In stark contrast, you feel sick to your stomach as you are forced to endure this agony, feeling Severus' ripped flesh beneath your fangs, the slam of your hull against his own, much weaker body, the slide as you entangle your strong limb around him, constricting with a strength you'd never known.

Your shoulder burns though you cannot feel your own pain, too concerned by the pain you are indirectly inflicting.

Then suddenly, it all stops. The snake withdraws and disappears from sight, leaving you as yourself, shaken and broken, to deal with what you have lost.

You rush forward, fleeing from under the cloak like a golden snitch whizzing off in the distance. Your feet carry you forward as you stumble through the glass planed door, sickened by the blood spatter across the glass that you pass. You anticipated seeing Severus' cold, dead body pressed against the fractured and blood splattered window but you instead found him barely alive and breathing raggedly, his throat slit and oozing crimson blood.

You fall to your knees in front of him, your vision blurred by the tears that continue to spill without care. Immediately you reach out to put pressure onto the wound in his neck, watching as his head turns slightly towards you, his eyes extending just a little. His mouth opens and a single tear leaks out from his eye making a soundless sob erupt from your chest. His mouth continues to try and speak but you shake your head no, trying to get him to reserve his energy. You feel his blood seeping onto your clothes, onto your skin but your numb to the sensation, too overcome with emotion to consider anything else.

"You're... here," he says weakly, voice raspy and broken.

"I'm here," you say, trying to fight through the sobs that erupt from your chest, trying to stay strong for him. You turn your head to the trio, shouting for your bag, trying to fight through the mess of your thoughts to think of anything that would help him.

"What do you need?" Hermione asks delicately, rushing over with your small bag, her wand ready to summon anything you needed from within the extension charmed bag.

"I, um I " you stutter, mind blank. His throat was slit using a spell you didn't know how to counter and he was covered in marks from Nagini's attack, the venom no doubt already coursing through his veins, similar to how it had in you. Panic begins to rise in you as you try to think of anything remotely useful but everyone of your senses in blocked by the fight or flight reaction your body had entered.

You freeze when you feel a cold hand on top of your own, the one putting pressure onto his wound trying to slow the bleeding. You see the black sleeve of your mentor attached to the blood covered hand and immediately look up into his eyes. He simply shakes his head as much as he can, knowing just as you do that there's nothing you can do for him. You push down the rising sobs once again as you realise exactly what he's trying to tell you.

"I'm so sorry," you cry, feeling powerless and ashamed that you can't help him. You apologise for everything, for your anger at him all those months ago, for pulling away, for not fighting for him. "Severus."

You watch as a tear wells in his eye and runs down his cheek, followed by another that looks misty and niveous. You recognise at once the change in his tears and watch as he struggles to lift his hand, gesturing to the memories falling down his face.

"A vial, a flask anything," you say quickly, turning your head towards Hermione who summons one instantly from your bag.

"Always prepared," you say as you grab the vial from her hands and bring it towards his face, capturing the silken tear. His eyes flicker to Harry and he immediately joins you, crouching beside the Professor as he looks into his eyes, wordlessly telling him with a gesture that he needs to see whatever memory he has given. You grab a second vial from Hermione and begin receiving the second set, his eyes never leaving Harry as he ensures that his message is conveyed: these ones were for Harry.

"Take them to the pensieve," his voice says quietly, sounding weak and breathless. You look at Harry, examining the vial in his hand, both of you momentarily watching as the memories swirl around the glass.

"Look at me," you hear Severus say. You don't look, allowing him and Harry to have a moment, knowing there is so much unsaid between the pair. Only when you feel a gentle hand on yours once again do you look up, seeing that Severus had meant you.

"My last look," he says, struggling to talk even more now as you hear his breathing change, faster but more uneven as his chest rattles with a foreboding rumble. You reach for his hand, slipping yours into his much larger, calloused hand and squeeze gently, trying to comfort him in any way you can.

"Forgive... me."

You watch in horror as he sucks in one final breath and sighs, his eyes fading under your gaze as he slips away from you. You sit there in shock, frozen in position as a moment passes where you wait for him to return to you, for his body to do something but it doesn't, he'd gone.

An unearthly noise falls from your lips as you watch his body sink lifeless and defeated, all trace of life slipping away. Violent sobs erupt in your throat and you're entirely powerless to stop them as your body convulses with the effort, your hand still holding onto his tightly as if you couldn't let him go.

"Severus," you cry, head falling on your shoulders as rapid tears swarm your vision, no longer able to hold back any of the emotions you felt.

You sit beside him for what seems like both hours and mere seconds at the same time, pulling your hand away from his reluctantly.

"Help me move him please," you beg the others, Snape's slumped, twisted form seeming like a disgrace to his body. The four of you manage to turn him and lay him down on his back and Harry closes his eyes with his finger, allowing him to rest. The Lebetum in your pocket begins to violently shake and you pull it out quickly, watching in amazement as only a moment later the doe bursts out without any prompt and dances around for one last time before fading in front of your eyes. The last remnant of his soul vanishing.

You take a deep breath as you stand, looking down at the body of your friend and mentor, feeling an overwhelming sense of personal loss. You can feel the blood drying on your skin and it takes you back to the night when George lost his ear, your clothes and skin covered in your loved ones blood.

Just as you look away up to the moon, you feel a cold sensation swirling just under your skin, growing and rising in you just as it had before. You move and extend your neck, as if trying to fight off the uncomfortable sensation but it only increases, slowly turning sinister as the ice cold burning begins. You look at Harry in alarm and notice that he too looks to be in severe discomfort, his eyes squinting and his face contorted into a wince, meaning that his scar was throbbing.

The pain erupts in your shoulder like a wildfire whizzbang had been set off under your skin and you immediately fall to your knees as the pain consumes you. Harry stumbles into the glass panelled wall and you wrestle through the pain to keep your vision clear, noticing the change in the sky immediately. Storm clouds had gathered, engulfing the school and the horizon as sharp and violent winds begin to whip around the building of the boathouse, the joists creaking under the pressure.

As soon as the snake like voice enters your head, the pain begins anew though relents to a simmering burn in your shoulder up to the base of your neck.

"You have fought valiantly... but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

The pain subsides and you clamber your to your feet, moving in step with the others who walk out of the boathouse to look at the sky and the burning, broken castle before you. You turn and look around at Ron and Hermione's faces both contorted with discomfort as Voldemort speaks again.

"Harry Potter, I speak now directly to you. On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me."

The pain and anguish fades from you almost instantly, the clouds returning to normal as he calls off his communication. You take a steadying breath and roll your shoulder, unclenching your hands that you hadn't realises had been held so tightly.

Nothing is spoken between the four of you as Voldemort's demands play over and over again in your mind. You look at Severus one last time, knowing that you'd have to leave him there, the thought sickening you. You walk back over to his body and see him looking peaceful now, his already pale face only turning paler with time. You vow in your mind to lay him to rest as soon as you can, knowing that there would be no time now to do so. You pull out your wand and cast a shielding charm over his body, a veil of secrecy that would prevent anyone from discovering him or harming his body if he was found.

With one last look, you turn back to the trio who wait patiently for you by the dock before you all begin to make your way back to the castle in complete silence.

The courtyard was entirely deserted, a stark contrast to the ongoing battle you had navigated on your way to the boathouse. There were no giants, no acromantulas, no deatheaters and no students. Smoke poured from every open space in the castle, most of the internal flames now extinguished and only making the castle look even more battered. Blood and broken wands littered the flagstone, rubble and debris covering all the other areas with some parts still roaring with fire, though it seemed contained.

There's a haunting sense of foreboding of the scene before you and you walk up to the doors with a sick feeling in your stomach, immediately concerned by the lack of people around. In another move that only increases your angst and anxiety, Ron places his hands on the large enternace doors and simply pushes them open, the exit no longer protected by any of the enchantments and charms.

You walk straight towards the Great Hall with purpose, finding no one in the broken, rubble lined corridors or any sign of life around. Once again, Ron pushes on the door and the triage station comes into view, finally finding the place where everyone was gathered.

You immediately look for the familiar faces of your boyfriends, desperate to catch a glimpse of their flaming locks or towering heights above everyone but you can't see anyone, the sea of faces all blending together to form a mess in your mind. You can still see Severus' body behind your eyes, clouding your vision as you walk through the hall, looking around and trying to focus on what you were seeing.

The house tables had been pushed to the walls and the injured as seated on the stacked benches being treated or waiting for treatment. Every face you see is dirty and not without injury. You stand close to Harry who also takes his time walking through the overwhelming sight, familiar faces finally coming into view as you pass Filch and Slughorn, professors Flitwick and Sprout. You catch a glimpse of Professor Trelawney and Padma, slipping a sheet over the dead body of a girl you didn't recognise.

You turn to your left and freeze, a fresh wave of nausea and grief hitting you like a quaffle to the chest as you look down at the bodies of Remus and Tonks, laid side by side on white stretchers, their eyes closed and faces blank, their hands outstretched to one another but quite meeting. Both of them dead. You hand shoots to your mouth in horror as you look upon the couple, two people you had trusted and respected now gone, together even in death.

A resounding sob from behind you pulls you from your focus and before you could react, you are spun around on the spot and pulled into someone's chest. You know immediately that it's George. His cries shatter your heart even further as you sink into his embrace, gripping him back with a bruising force as your face presses deeper into his chest. Just as George begins to pull away, you are spun around again and are even more forcefully pulled into a second very familiar set of arms. You melt immediately into the arms of your boyfriend, listening as he sniffles and sputters above you, his arms tight around your shoulders as he holds you closely. The tightness hurts your shoulder something fierce but you can hardly focus on it as you desperately cling to Fred, never wanting to let go.

You begin to sob all over again, the pain of losing Severus and now Remus and Tonks, the pain you felt for little Teddy now orphaned and the overwhelming and all consuming relief at being in the arms of your loves just too much for you to handle. You don't pull away, not even as Fred begins to loosen his grip and you blindly reach for George, pulling him back in until the three of you are entwined, exactly as you were always meant to be. You hear one of them gently shushing you, trying to calm your sobs but you can't make out who it is, your mind entirely focused on your unbearable sadness. You try to force yourself to think of the sensations you feel, the smooth material of their jackets and warm bodies, the strength of their arms and the size of their large hands gripping hold of you.

Eventually, your grip on them loosens and they slowly pull away, finally able to see their faces as you pull apart. They look dishevelled and tired, dirty and a little broken but they are alive and as far as you could tell, not injured.

A sob erupts from George as he looks at you and it's then that you realise what they are seeing as you look down at yourself, clothes entirely stained with blood. It's everywhere, from your hands, up your arms and across your chest and that was only as far as you could see on yourself. Fred looks horrified, his eyes flickering over your form immediately surveying you for injuries as his hands run over your arms, trying to find what was wrong.

"Severus," you hiccup out an explanation, fresh tears running down your cheeks as you re-live the moment over again in your mind. Fred wastes no time and pulls you back into his arms, cradling you and stroking your hair. George reaches out and places his hand on your shoulder, his long fingers running across your frayed and ripped top. They might not have always understood your bond with Severus, and definitely did not share in your affections for the man, but they consoled you without question, asking no questions nor requiring any information.

You suddenly pull away, looking around to account for everyone, realising that you hadn't had the chance to check that everyone was there.

"Everyone's here," George says quietly, reassuringly. "Percy took a hit but he'll live." You look around and find Ginny and Ron sat beside Percy who is lay on a stretched to your right, Molly and Arthur near his head. Bill and Fleur are stood a little further back and almost as if he can sense it, he turns to look at you the moment your eyes flicker over to him.

You see him whisper something to Fleur and pull away, making his was over to you.

There's a second's pause as he approaches, his brothers moving aside with questioning looks as he hesitates only briefly, looking at your blood soaked clothes and weary form before he closed the gap between you and pulls you into a strong embrace. His arms reach around you but are careful to avoid your anguished shoulder as he gives you a strong hug, the epitome of eldest brotherly kindness. He pulls back after a moment and smiles at you, chasing the look in your eyes.

"Hi tough girl," he says quietly, taking a step back and allowing Fred and George to move in closer to you again, each of them reaching out to touch you in some capacity. "Had me worried."

"I'm tough," you shrug, a brief but honest smirk tugging at your lips as you mirror his words, seeing a smile bloom across his face at your little confident joke.

Molly approaches you next, followed by Arthur who both look exhausted but thankful that their children are okay. You ask about Percy and Molly assured you that he'll be awake soon, having been saved by Fred at the last moment from the explosion. You turn to Fred who for once doesn't look smug nor self-satisfied at the praise but instead looks relieved that he was able to save his brother. You immediately each for his hand and entwine it with yours, silently communicating how proud you were of him, followed by George who your other hand reaches for, linking you all together again.

You look around a few moments later as you all gather around Percy who begins to rouse and you realise that Harry had disappeared. You remember the vial in your pocket then and it suddenly feels like it's burning a whole in your jeans, curiosity plaguing you. You force yourself to ignore it, to allow yourself peace just for now, to be surrounded by the people you love and who love you.

You find yourself unable to sit still, unable to merely sit whilst people need help all around you and so you offer assistance to Madame Pomfrey, still keeping a short distance between you and your boyfriends so that you would all feel better being in sight of each other.

Hours pass and the able bodied begin clearing the rubble from the halls, assisting with clearing up the devastation caused by the earlier attack. You feel weary and tired physically but mentally you feel like you could levitate the entire castle with your mind. The adrenaline you felt earlier has gone and had been replaced by pure determination to end this, to prevent anyone else from dying.

The first signs of dawn's light stream through the shattered and haphazardly fixed windows and you ponder for a moment about where Harry is. Hermione and Ron had gone to find him a while ago but you didn't feel the need to go with them this time, knowing that they needed each other, the original three.

You'd just finished healing a burn like wound on Cormac Mclaggen's arm, moving away to gather some supplies for your next patient when an overwhelming pain consumed you once again. The hit was unlike any other this time and your vision immediately turned blurry and distorted, making you lose your balance and knock the metal gauze dish from the side of the table, the resounding clang of the metal hitting the stone floor ringing out around the room.

Bill was beside you in mere seconds, followed closely by his twin brothers who were immediately trying to help you, asking what was wrong in panicked voices.

"Help her sit," Bill instructs the boys and you can vaguely see three figures with fire red hair of various lengths before you, helping you stabilise yourself as the pain radiates through your shoulder before fading away once again.

"What is happening? Sweetheart you have to tell us what it is," Fred says quickly, at least you think it's Fred.

"Angel please you're scaring me," George, you think.

You feel a coldness pass over your shoulder, like a wave pulling along the sand lazily, the pain subsiding as the area goes numb, though not entirely. You open your eyes and see Bill covertly pocketing his wand again and you smile thankfully at him, especially for his discreet spell casting.

"Just dizzy," you lie, squeezing your eyes shut again before opening them, now seeing Hermione looking at you with concern, having returned during your episode. The pain never returns nor do you have another episode and you return to work eventually, ignoring the protests from your boyfriends who wish for you to rest.

Hermione and Ron manage to pull you away from your duties a while later and conceal you from the watchful eyes of your boyfriends to have a private word with you in the corridor.

"We need to kill the snake," Ron says, "it's the last one like you said, after that it's just him. Harry's given himself up."

You nodded gently, eyes fogging with tears at the thought.

"Only, your connection to the snake, what if that doesn't work?" He adds, sounding hesitant to mention the second part of his thoughts.

"You think I'm a Horcrux?" You ask quietly, the words alone making you shiver.

"No, Voldemort wouldn't have known about that, but there's something more to it isn't there? The connection needs to be broken, whatever happened that night, the snake wether they meant to or not left a piece of itself in you," Hermione says, sounding a little less cautious than Ron.

"Perhaps you need to look inside the snake, hear their thoughts, maybe it's trying to tell you something."

You catch a glimpse of the red headed family through the doors, smiling tiredly at each other as they huddle around the now responsive Percy. A wave of sadness washes over you as you realise that whatever this thing was with the snake, might have cursed you to a life without them, or worse, the end of your life.

You look back to Ron and Hermione, seeing their expressive faces and solemnly nod, once again knowing what needed to be done.

Next

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