#genuinely very fond of this piece

[0vergrownruins]

The Crown Prince And The Young Master, Attended By Appointed Steward - circ. 43rd year of 7th Mobei Jun’s reign

Fanart for the lovely @tossawary’s fic, Babe in the Woods (one of my absolute favorite moshang fics, easily). This is post-fic, maybe a few years down the line, when Airplane has unknowingly taken over like, every management task in our Mobei Jun’s faction, including taking care of Didi, but he still thinks he’s just the nanny. Mbj’s father ordered a royal portrait of the princes and mbj was like um my human wife will be joining. Airplane, frantically putting on the nicest clothes mbj has given him: why does the babysitter have to be in the photo?? Didi does not hold still for even a single second of the portrait sitting.

(I cannot lie to you, I started this portrait well over a full year ago, and in the last week finally finished the lines and colored the whole thing.)

[gingermintpepper]

I saw it in your tag game post that you're also fond of the Apollo-Heracles conflict 👀 for a myth that appears in only a couple of sources, it sure has a lot of presence in the vase paintings (no seriously, everytime I think I've seen the last of it, I find ten more)

SO do you have any favorites among the paintings that represent this story??

OMG OMG THIS ASK IS A GIFT. IT IS A GIFT THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR LETTING ME TALK ABOUT THIS

I also think it's extremely interesting that it's a story so popularly portrayed by vase paintings and in such a variety of ways!! It's certainly one of the stories that gets left out of written compilation of Heracles' legend a bit (which is a shame, I think it's a fantastic story) but Apollo had a very peculiar relationship with Heracles in general that I just kind of find amazing (and very, very funny).

Apollo is not a god with any legitimate grudge against Heracles, but he does argue with the mortal a bit like he argues with his favourite brothers 😂Part of why I love the story of Apollo and Heracles fighting over the tripod so much is that it is such a little brother thing for Heracles to be upset with the proclamation his elder brother has given him and so, he throws a great fit, taking up the chair and declaring that he'll just give himself a better prophecy! And Apollo, instead of being a marginally professional big brother, decides to fight him for it until their father has to break up their cat-fight. Like was that not just the plot of the Homeric Hymn to Hermes? Is this not exactly how Apollo treated Hermes when he was a child and now those two are inseparable? 💀

Because of this, my favourite vase paintings tend to be the ones that highlight the personal squabbling between Apollo and Heracles the most. There are some very elaborate ones that have the full host of them - Athena, Heracles, Apollo, Artemis, usually a dog and a doe, I've even seen a couple that had birds and plants etched on them, but the simplest ones that show Heracles about to bonk Apollo with his club out of frustration or depict Heracles nyooming away from Apollo while Apollo (presumably) yells curses about how he's going to fling Heracles head first into Tartarus for daring to take his things? Yeah, those are the premium big brother/little brother things I'm looking for.

(Photo. Marie-Lan Ngyuen)

(Photo. Museo Claudio Faina)

Also the one in the Theoi.com archives is a real classic - perfect energy.

[javierduffy]

You have made me adore Javier and kieran as a ship, I love them and how you draw them sm omg- they are my two fav characters which just makes it even better >□<

Considering drawing them fishing together... many thoughts...

DONT say that !!! ILL CRY !!!!!! thank you so much :( they truly mean the world to me so it makes me so so happy that you’re beginning to love them too :(( they’re my favs too !!! they make me so happy <//3

also i’m glad u like how i draw them :] i’ve very much been having fun w them so that means a lot !!!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEAAAESEE PLEADE DRAW THEM FISHING TOGETHER ILL CRY SO HARD i’m living off of crumbs and mostly my own so if u draw them i think i genuinely will have a meltdown of some sort TT____TT

[waokevale]

Introducing Follower gang!

There. Finally did all the Bishops follower designs!

The 7 deadly sins

And some other follower gang, done with lineart this time because the other 2 pieces made me lose my soul for how long they took.

(Also a small HC if I may: Dr. Sozonius is trapped inside the mushroom on Sozos head, while the actual mushroom is controlling his body)

+ some more doodles

Info about the 7 Sins and more doodles below:

Jeg represents Greed - he was one of the first of Lamb's followers. (At first, it was very difficult for Lambert to indoctrinate people, due to their inexperience, this guy was like the 5th or so) Jeg has...a very specific personality to say the least, yet the Lamb can't help but be fond of him. They eventually nominate him the Tax enforcer role and...That might've been the worst decision of their life. But they did not take the role away. Jeg acts smug 24/7 and relishes in his new power, but deep down, dudes pretty insecure, ( but don't tell anyone!) He used to have a huge crush on the lamb, but then Narinder and eventually the other bishops came, and since their leader was for some reason head over heels for the ex god of death, Jeg grew bitter and often got into fights with Nari, as well as charging him and his other siblings more than the average follower. Though he's mostly mellowed out since then.

Brash represents Gluttony They despise Helob, since they used to fight for "food" a lot, and eventually Brash got really injured and was found by the Lamb. She tried to eat them, but was quickly disarmed. Despite this, they decided to spare him and bring his sorry ass back to the cult to indoctrinate. They were very cunning and didn't trust the lamb either, but eventually they cooled off and accepted the new life. She still eats people tho, just not from the cult, otherwise jail or *worse*

Yara represents Pride She is one of the core followers. She's very strict and somewhat self-centered, she likes things done her way, or if not her way, the lambs way. Period. No one else can boss her around or even give a helpful advice. She's actually a pretty stand up deer, and despite being incredibly stubborn still makes a good friend. She gets along with most people though Brash annoys her, since he keeps snatching body parts off corpses. She has always been extremely devoted to the lamb and will be annoyed if any follower dissents and tries to preach against them. She wasn't surprised in the slightest when they eventually took down all the bishops.

Thorn represents Envy He had a pretty terrible life before the cult. When he was brought in, she was bitter about her newfound situation. He wasn't very trusting of the lamb and thought they expected something out of her (which technically they did, but it's just work). He envies the fools who are so oblivious and just do everything as they're told and let their lives be guided by some amateur god. Similar to the other two, he puts on a mask, He often acts overly saccharine to hide his true feelings, but doesn't have any bad intentions. (Most of the time) She does genuinely like some people, but others, he only pretends to like to appease the lamb or to blackmail them. He hates when the people he actually cares about are threatened.

Jermo represents Wrath Jermo absolutely does not trust anyone. Similar to Thorn, and most other followers tbh, their life was absolutely horrible prior to the cult. They trusted some people, they got betrayed, and almost died several times because of it. It was extremely difficult for the lamb to make them stop dissenting. They legit had to give them the loyalty necklace in order for them to finally stop dissenting. Jermo keeps getting into fights with other followers, because they feel as though everyone is always against them or is constantly judging them. (They're technically not wrong) They've died 5 times, because they keep getting into fights with other followers. Lamb strongly considered keeping them dead, but decided to challenge themself with them (also they're too cuddly to just be killed off) Despite their many, *many* flaws, Thorn has a huge crush on them, since he's one of the people who managed to see their soft side. Jermo, deep, deep, deep down actually cares a lot, but they've been hurt too much by everyone, so they retaliate for the same stuff to not repeat.

Herett represents Lust At some point, she passingly heard about the cult and since it seemed like a peaceful place from the rumors (and also had hot people in it) she eagerly joined in. She's usually in the kitchen area, if not hanging around the love tent or babysitting some kids. She crushes on almost everyone, but for some reason she hates Kallamar (legit in my actual game she rejected him so hard, despite having the lustful trait and not caring prior)

Mateo represents Sloth Is perhaps the 1st or 2nd of Lambs followers, so they're absolutely not letting go of him, dudes lived 4 long lives and is tired of it, he keeps switching jobs since with age he's been slacking off more. He's currently stuck as a janitor (he hates it) He's also one of the few people who managed to befriend Jermo, his mellow, don't care attitude is somewhat comforting to them. Aside that, he gets along with almost everyone, as best as he can at least.

Not much else to say about the gang in the third pic but Riley and Dannie are platonic bffs and were forced to babysit kids when the lamb was crusading. The lamb was a little incompetent here to give carnivores children to take care of, but thankfully they actually managed to be good with them and got used to being on nanny duty.

The capybara (Beige) is a retired teacher and adopted a little owlet to take care of (Chip)

While Femur is our below yellow cat, and that's my HC name for him. He's a gatherer here.

[riddlesb1tch]

Loved You First

Azriel x reader

summary: reader and Azriel are in love with each other but too afraid to admit it. What happens when reader gets asked out on a date and is seemingly very interested in the guy?

Loosely inspired by "Loved You First" by One Direction

warnings: this is so fluffy its borderline cheesy. Actually no, it is cheesy. Enjoy the cheese my loves!

a/n: the results from the poll are in!!! and Azriel very obviously won lol so here is a fic that has been in my drafts for like a year and I haven't had the motivation to finish.

Had my chances,

Could've been where he is standing

That's what hurts the most, 

Girl I came so close,

But now you’ll never know, 

Baby, I loved you first 

Ever since you joined the IC a decade ago, you and the spymaster have been close. Rhysand had walked into a coffee shop one day where he found you, sipping on your coffee while lost in a book on the history of Prythian. Rhys had taken a liking to you after a lengthy conversation about the inaccuracies both of you had spotted. He invited you to dinner with the inner circle where you met the infamous Shadowsinger. 

The first time you met, a hum or two of acknowledgement is all you got from him. You felt like he hated you after that first meeting but the rest of the IC had taken a liking to you which led to you being invited to many more dinners. Eventually, he started speaking to you like you weren’t his enemy but was still closed off, keeping the conversation about you and providing as little information about himself as possible. Initially, you weren’t too fond of the spymaster due to his closed-off nature and the vibe you got that he didn't particularly enjoy your company, but everyone in the IC spoke fondly of him and he wouldn’t have been friends with all the kind people in the inner circle if he wasn’t nice himself. Then, you realized soon that he had built up many walls around his heart to prevent himself from getting hurt.  So, you decided to give him a fair chance and struck up a conversation at one of the dinners about a book both of you had read called ‘The Name of the Rose’. It was a safe territory that got him to be surprisingly chatty with you. Suddenly, his whole demeanour changed. He turned his body towards you, asking you questions about your theories while you were reading, proposing his own. The moment you saw his eyes light up when you two agreed on who the culprit should have been, you knew this male was the most precious being you had met.

Since that dinner, you and Azriel were like two peas in a pod, always together, relentlessly teasing each other, chatting amongst yourselves which led to infinite inside jokes. During the inner circle dinners when everyone would be talking about their weeks, random gossip from here and there, and sharing stories, you and Azriel would be sitting together, commenting on the conversations happening around you in the other’s ear and laughing to yourselves. 

Rhysand often said you two were like little kids. 

Both of you often got teased by the other's name by the rest of the IC. According to them, you two should have started dating the moment you met. Feyre even said you two reminded her a bit of Cassian and Nesta with the way you disliked each other during your first few meetings but quickly became inseparable. 

And in a way, they weren’t wrong. 

When your chemistry was that good, you couldn’t help but fall for the spymaster. He was always there for you when you needed him, and you were the first person he let himself be truly vulnerable with, always coming to you after a mission gone wrong. You saw a side of him that no one had seen before: the childish, playful side that took every opportunity to make you laugh, to snatch up the last piece of cake or candy, a side that played pranks on you, a side that loved to laugh wholeheartedly. It was his genuine smile, the boisterous laughter that you loved the most, and did everything in your power to hear it as often as you could. 

The only problem that seemed to be standing in the way of you confessing was that he didn’t seem interested in you. Little things he would do made you think he viewed you as nothing but a friend, such as ruffling your hair, his incessant teasing about how no one would want to date you, and the fact that he never said anything to you about it. You knew the spymaster wasn’t exactly a talking about his feelings kind of person, but then he wasn’t afraid to confess kind of person either, which left you confused and sad that he didn’t reciprocate your love. 

Recently, at a coffee shop, you had been asked out by a fine gentleman who had struck up a conversation with you. He complimented your features, telling you how he loved your hair, and soon, asked you on a date. 

Since the thing with Azriel was never going to happen, you didn't see a reason to turn down the very handsome male who was interested in you. 

“Awesome! There's this restaurant near the rainbow ‘Velarian’, ever heard of it?” he asked. 

You nodded with a shy smile. 

“Perfect! I will pick you up tomorrow at 7 pm, milady.” He gallantly bowed, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles, making you blush. 

“Will do,” you replied. 

The male left after getting his coffee, throwing a wink your way before taking his exit. 

“Y/n, what’s taking you so long?” Azriel stalked into the shop, seeing you standing there staring at the door and smiling like an idiot. A smile of amusement took over his features. 

“What are you smiling about?” he asked. 

“I just got asked on a date!” you replied cheerfully, snapping out of your daze and clapping your hands together. 

His whole world went silent. It had finally happened, the moment he had been dreading: someone was going to come in and take you away from him and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because he was too afraid to tell you how he felt. And how could he when you seemed so excited at the prospect of getting asked out? He mentally chastised himself for not going inside with you so he could chase away the male as he’d done countless times before. He could not stand the idea of you dating someone else so he did something he shouldn’t have and threatened any male enamoured by your presence from getting close to you. But when you had that smile on your face when you looked more excited than you had in a while, how could Azriel ruin that by telling you the truth about his feelings? 

So, he conjured that playful lilt back into his voice despite his heart rejecting the playfulness and furrowed his brows. “Hold on, someone actually wants to date you? Like without getting paid for it?” he said in a surprised tone. 

You punched his shoulder hard, making Azriel laugh out loud. 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” you said with a frown. 

Azriel nodded. “You’ve told me a few times,” he stated. 

“And yet you can't seem to understand it.”  

Understandably so, Mor was very excited when you told her you got asked out on a date and you both set to figuring out your hair, makeup, and outfit for the night. 

“So what's his name?” Mor asked while she put up your hair in different ways, trying to figure out what looked good. 

You blushed slightly, looking at Mor in the mirror. “His name is Damien,” you said in an almost whisper. 

It killed Azriel that this other was able to make you blush like that when it was his right to bring that colour to your cheeks. 

“Oh my, look at the blush!” Mor teased. “I don’t even think I need to put any blush on you if this is how pink you get from just his name!” 

Mor laughed out loud and you hid your face in your hands in embarrassment. 

“Mor, stop,” you chastised, and both of you erupted in giggles.

Azriel watched as the two of you chattered excitedly, wanting to but not having the guts to ask you to not go on the date. So he did the only thing he could and watched you go on a date with a male you met in the coffee shop. 

You looked stunning in a little black dress with spaghetti straps and a wide neck, displaying the beautiful necklace you wore with a reflection of the Velaris night sky captured into a little globe. Your hair was hanging in loose waves down your back and framing your beautiful features, and a beautiful diamond bracelet adorning your wrist that matched the sparkle of the necklace perfectly. Your eyes were lined with kohl and shining bright with excitement as Azriel took you, his heart breaking the brighter your smile got. 

“Wow, Y/n, who knew you could look like a female,” Azriel teased, making you roll your eyes and slightly chuckle. He smiled, moving closer to you with his hands in his pockets. “Good luck on your date, n/n. Have fun.” He moved his hand to ruffle your hair but you ducked, stopping him mid-movement. 

“Please don’t, I spent hours on this hair and I can’t have anything ruin it,” you grimaced. 

“Of course, my bad,” Azriel replied, stepping away from you. 

A gentle rapping sounded on the door and you turned to your friends one last time for a check. They shot you thumbs up before you opened the door and greeted the very attractive male. 

“Ready to go?” Azriel heard his rich, deep voice, feeling a pang of jealousy shoot through his chest. 

You smiled, stepping down carefully and closing the door behind you.

You didn't return till the next morning, hair messed up, heels in your hands, and his scent all over you. 

“So I guess the date went well?” Mor smirked, sipping her coffee as she eyed you walking in. 

You smiled sheepishly before slipping off to your room for a bath and some much-needed rest. 

The next few days, Azriel had been extra broody and everyone was confused about why. He wouldn't talk to even you and mostly kept to himself. 

“Y/n, I think you need to talk to Az,” Cassian said while leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Why?” you asked with your brows furrowed, continuing to butter the bread. 

“He's been…moody these past few days. Like more so than usual, and it's worrying all of us. He won't talk to us, barely looks us in the eye, and he’s been training non-stop. I don't think the training dummies can take much more of this,” he joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere but you could hear the worry in his voice. 

You huffed in amusement before turning to Cassian and nodding. “I will speak to him today. Thank you for telling me.” 

You made another sandwich for Azriel and plated both of them before heading up to his room. The room was shrouded in darkness meaning the Shadowsinger was upset about something, and that concerned you because he didn't come to you this time about whatever was bothering him. 

“Az?” you called out into the darkness. When you didn't get a response, you slowly tracked your way to the bed, estimating from memory how far it would be and avoiding obstacles on the way. 

You set the plates of food down on the bed when you found it, feeling around for Azriel whom you felt sitting with his legs outstretched, leaning against the headboard. Your hand came in contact with his shoulder first and you rested your palm there gently, stroking it soothingly. 

“You okay, Az?” you asked. 

A grunt of acknowledgement was the only response you got. 

“Hey, what's wrong?” you asked, carefully sitting down on the bed next to his legs. “Talk to me.” You took his hands in yours, squeezing to tell him you were there for him. Slowly, the shadows receded from around the room, once again cloaking the room with light and letting you get a view of the spymaster. 

Azriel looked horrible with tired bags and messy hair. His eyes were red as if he had been crying and his shoulders slumped from exhaustion. You reached a hand up to gently stroke his cheek. His eyes lifted to yours and you could see the pain in them. Your heart broke to see him like this and wanted to do everything in your power to take the pain away. 

“What's wrong, Azzy?” you asked softly. 

He opened his mouth to tell you but stopped himself and shook his head. “I can’t tell you.” 

You slightly laughed at that. “Come on, Az, we’re not kids. You can tell me and we can have a mature, adult conversation about it.”

Azriel sighed, dropping your hands and getting up from the bed. 

“You won’t understand, Y/n,” he said and you heard agitation in his voice. 

You turned to where he was standing, your feet firmly planted on the ground and hands fisting the bedsheets at your sides. 

“Then make me understand, Az,” you said softly. “Something has got to be very wrong because you haven’t spoken to me in days, you haven’t spoken to the rest of the family, you’re training yourself to death, barely eating, barely sleeping. I mean, is all that worth it when you can talk to me and we can work it out?” you questioned. 

“It's worth it if it means you’re happy,” Azriel said so softly you barely heard it. 

“You’re miserable, Az,” you said, getting up from the bed and walking up to him. You reached for his hands, giving them a firm squeeze. “I can never be happy knowing something is bothering you. Please tell me.” 

Azriel looked at your concerned face, at your hands holding his, and the feeling of rightness in his chest. Maybe it was reckless, maybe he’d been building up to this moment for a long time, but his chest physically hurt from holding onto what he desperately wanted to say. 

“I love you,” he blurted. 

Your face went slack and his heart stopped. 

“W-what?” you gaped. 

Your grip on his hands loosened, eyes looking up at him in utter disbelief. 

But Azriel was not going to take that back. He’d said it and it felt fucking incredible to be able to admit it. 

“I love you,” he repeated. 

“Really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we talked about ‘The Name of the Rose’,” he admitted. “And it's not right that you’re with whats-his-name now because, Y/n, I loved you first. I have always loved you and I cannot hold it in any longer.” 

Tears collected in your eyes from his monologue. 

“I love you too, Az,” you said. 

It was like he could breathe again. Hearing you say those words to him was the utmost bliss he had ever experienced and Azriel did not want this moment to end. He now stood as stunned as you had been when he’d said that to you. 

“R-really?” he stuttered out. 

You laughed, grip tightening on his hands once again. Nodding, you replied, “Ever since the day you let me hear your laugh and see your smile I’ve been in love, Az,” you admitted. 

Not wasting any more time, Azriel smashed his lips on yours, pulling you closer by the waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down, running your fingers through his hair. 

You both pulled away, panting but grinning all the same. Azriel rested his forehead on yours and took a moment to just breathe you in. Then, he pulled away and asked, “What about whats-his-name?” 

“Oh, the date went horrible. I hated him. Literally one of the most pretentious and presumptuous males I’ve ever met. At the end of the night he asked when our second date was and I said ‘Never. And just in this universe. There is not a single parallel and/or alternate universe where I would consent to see your face again’, then left,” you stated proudly.

Azriel laughed out loud at this. 

“Damn, my little heartbreaker,” he said and kissed you again. “Wait then why did you come home the next morning with hair all messy and heels in your hands?” he asked. 

“Oh after the date, I saw one of my friends coming out of the restaurant and I hadn’t seen her in a while so we spent the entire night walking and talking along the Sidra,” you chuckled. 

Azriel gaped at you. 

“You mean to tell me that I brooded for nothing?” he exclaimed. 

You pursed your lips and nodded. “Yeah. take this as a sign to work on your communication skills.” 

Azriel laughed, making you laugh along with him before he pulled you into another kiss. 

From behind you, you heard a loud whistle then cheering followed. Your entire family stood in the doorway of Azriel’s room, watching the two of you in each other’s arms. 

“Finally!” Mor clapped her hands together. 

“Both of you were insufferable moping about each other,” Cassian said and both of you held up the finger for him. 

Everyone laughed at that and you and Azriel hugged tightly.

tags: @thelov3lybookworm @sarawritestories @berryzxx @milswrites @lilah-asteria

Masterlist

[trueebeauty]

hello dear! can I request a fluff scenario with Lookism men (with Gun, Goo, Sam, Jake + whatever characters you like), when you prank him by pointing at your man's lap and ask if that seat was taken 😊 tyty!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes ; I had so much fun writing this one, I hope you enjoy it!!

GUN PARK

— It's a quiet evening, the kind of evening that Gun usually spends buried in work. His office is dimly lit as Gun sits there, his figure hunched over documents, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You pause at the doorway, watching him. To the world, he's a monster, a threat. But to you, he's just Gun, the man who softens only for you.

"Gun," you call softly, stepping into the room.

He looks up, the sharpness in his eyes immediately dulling. It's a transformation only you witness - the feared Gun becoming just a man, tired and in need of a break. "What is it?" His voice, usually a weapon, is gentle now.

You saunter towards his desk, a playful sway in your hips. Gun's eyes track your movement, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

You stop right in front of him, pointing at his lap with a mischievous grin. "Excuse me, sir, but is this seat taken?"

Gun blinks once, twice. You've caught him off-guard, a feat very few can claim. Then, a sound rumbles from his chest - a chuckle, low and rich.

It's not his usual cold laughter that sends chills down spines. This is warm, amused, meant only for you.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he says, but there's no threat in his voice. Instead, there's a fondness that makes your heart skip.

Gun pushes back from his desk, his expensive leather chair rolling smoothly. It's an invitation, one that speaks louder than words from a man who prefers action.

You don't hesitate. In a moment, you're settled on his lap, your legs dangling off one side of the chair.

His arms come around you, not with his usual strength, but with a gentle possessiveness. You're encased in a cage of muscle and warmth, more comforting than confining. Here, in Gun's embrace, you're the safest person in Seoul.

"Better than any chair," you quip, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He smells of expensive cologne and something uniquely him, a scent that spells home for you.

"Brat," Gun murmurs. The word is gruff, but you hear the smile in it. You glance up to see it - a rare, genuine smile softening his sharp features.

It's a sight reserved only for you, more precious than any treasure he owns.

Gun's hand comes up, calloused fingers tracing your cheek with a tenderness that belies their strength. These hands have brought empires to their knees, yet they touch you like you're made of glass.

"You should rest," you whisper, reaching up to smooth the furrow between his brows. "The world won't fall apart if you take a break."

He hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. But he makes no move to return to his work.

Instead, he pulls you closer, his chin resting atop your head. You feel the tension leaving his body, the rigidness melting away.

You smile, knowing you've won a victory sweeter than anything. You've stolen Gun's seat, yes - but more importantly, you've stolen a moment of his time, a piece of his heart.

With you, he's not a king or a ghost or a nightmare. He's just Gun, a man holding his world in his arms.

GOO KIM

— It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind Goo loves best. No jobs, no fights, just pure relaxation. You've just returned from a grocery run, bags dangling from your arms. The apartment you share with Goo is quiet, except for the faint rustle of pages.

You nudge the door open with your hip. "Goo! A little help here?"

He's sprawled on your plush couch, one leg dangling off the edge, the other propped on the armrest. His wild hair is messier than usual, and he's got a manga held above his face.

At your call, he flips a page, a smirk playing on his lips. "Busy," he drawls, not even glancing your way.

You huff, but there's no real annoyance. This is classic Goo - mercurial, a little shit, but undeniably yours.

You set the bags down and take a moment to admire him. Even in repose, there's a coiled energy about him, like a cat pretending to nap but ready to pounce at any moment.

A mischievous idea strikes. You saunter over, putting a little extra sway in your hips. Goo's eyes flick to you over the top of his manga, a spark of interest breaking through his facade of indifference.

You stop right by the couch, pointed chin, playful eyes. "Baby," you say, your voice a blend of innocence and cheek. "Is this seat occupied?"

Goo blinks, momentarily caught off guard. Then, a slow grin spreads across his face, the kind that usually precedes chaos.

But this chaos is all for you. "Oh?" he drawls, tossing the manga aside carelessly. "Getting bold, are we?"

You shrug, the picture of innocence. "Just looking for a comfy spot."

Goo laughs, a sound that's half amusement, half challenge. He pats his lap, a clear invitation. "Well, don't let me stop you, darling."

You don't hesitate. In a moment, you're plopped onto his lap, legs stretched out along the couch. Goo grunts at the sudden weight, but his arms are already around you, one hand splayed on your back, the other dangerously close to your ticklish spots.

"Comfy?" he asks, but there's a glint in his eye that spells trouble.

"Very," you start to say, but the word morphs into a squeal as Goo's fingers dance along your sides. "Goo!"

"That's what you get for being cheeky," he teases, but he's grinning ear to ear, a sight that transforms his whole face. Gone is the cold, calculating fighter. In his place is your Goo, all playful energy and unrestrained joy.

You squirm in his grasp, laughter bubbling out of you. It's a game now, one you both love. His tickles are merciless, but you manage to retaliate, finding that one spot behind his ear that always makes him twitch.

"Yah!" he yelps, more surprised than displeased. His grip on you tightens, not to hurt but to pull you against him.

The tickle war morphs into a tight embrace, your giggles fading into contented sighs.

Goo's chin rests atop your head, his breaths ruffling your hair. "You're lucky I like you," he murmurs, but there's no bite to it. If anything, he sounds almost awed, as if he can't quite believe you're here, that you chose him.

"More than you like manga?" you tease, glancing at the discarded book.

He snorts. "Don't push it." But his hand comes up to stroke your hair, gentle in a way few would believe the infamous Goo could be capable of. "But yeah, maybe a bit more."

You hum happily, nuzzling into his chest. Under your ear, his heart beats steady and strong, and in the arms of one of Seoul's most feared men, you feel nothing but safe.

The groceries lay forgotten by the door. The manga stays on the floor. The world outside, with all its violence and schemes, seems distant.

Right now, it's just you and Goo, tangled together on the couch, his unpredictable energy gentled by your presence.

As you start to doze off, lulled by Goo's warmth and the faint scent of his shampoo (the one you bought him, because "if you're gonna fight, at least smell nice"), you feel him press a kiss to your forehead. It's feather-light, almost hesitant, as if he's still learning how to be soft.

But that's okay. You've got all the time in the world to teach him, one lazy Sunday at a time. After all, you've already claimed the best seat in the house - right here, in Goo's lap, in Goo's heart.

SAMUEL SEO

— It's a hot summer day in Seoul. The air is thick with humidity, making even the short walk to the gym feel like trudging through the desert.

But Samuel Seo doesn't do half-measures, not in fights and certainly not in training. So, here he is, wrapping up an intense workout while others have long since retreated to air-conditioned cafes.

You push open the gym door, a blast of sweat-tinged air hitting you. The place is nearly empty, save for a few diehards and, of course, Samuel.

He's at the bench press, muscles straining, a look of fierce concentration on his face. You pause, taking a moment to admire the way his black tank clings to his skin, how his veins stand out with each rep.

He finishes his set and sits up, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. That's when he spots you. "Oi," he calls out, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Come to see a real workout?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that spreads across your face. This is Samuel's way of saying he's glad to see you. "Real workouts involve water breaks, Sammy," you retort, holding up the bottle and towel you brought.

He grunts, but there's a flicker of appreciation in his eyes as he meets you halfway. "Thanks," he mumbles, downing half the bottle in one go.

Water trickles down his chin, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. You resist the urge to chase it with your lips.

Instead, you hold out the towel. "Here. You look like you took a swim in your clothes."

Samuel snorts but takes it, roughly toweling his hair. "It's called dedication. Not that you'd know, with your yoga and pilates crap."

"It's called flexibility," you counter with a wink. "Very useful in certain situations."

A faint blush creeps up his neck, visible even through his workout flush. He clears his throat, adorably flustered. "Yeah, well... whatever."

You grin, loving how this tough-as-nails fighter turns into a stammering mess with just a bit of flirting. But you're not done teasing him yet. As he starts to move back towards the weights, you clear your throat.

"Hey, Sammy?" you call, your tone playful. He turns, one eyebrow raised in question. You gesture towards his lap with an impish smile. "Is anyone sitting here?"

Samuel blinks, his blush deepening. "You're such a—" he starts, but you don't let him finish. In a moment, you've perched yourself on his knees, legs dangling on either side of the bench.

"Language, Samuel," you tease, poking his chest. "This is a public space, anyone can hear you."

He grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "impossible shit," but his hands find your waist, steadying you. "You do realize I'm sweaty and gross, right?" he mutters, but he's not pushing you away. If anything, he's pulled you a bit closer.

"Mmm, eau de hard work," you joke, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. "My favorite."

"Ridiculous," Samuel breathes, but there's a tremor in his voice, a softness that belies his gruff tone. "You're going to get all sweaty too."

"Then we'll match," you say simply, pulling back to look at him.

His face is a study in contrasts - sharp angles and soft eyes, a scowl fighting a smile. It's a face you've come to adore, every scar and frown line a part of the man you love.

Samuel looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, with a gentleness that would shock his enemies, he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're impossible," he murmurs, but it sounds more like a declaration than a complaint.

You lean into his touch, your heart swelling. "You love it," you whisper, and before he can deny it, you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He lets out a shaky breath, his facade crumbling. In this quiet corner of the gym, with the faint hum of a lone fan and the distant clang of weights, Samuel allows himself a moment of vulnerability.

He rests his forehead against yours, his hands sliding from your waist to wrap around you in a full embrace.

"Yeah," he admits, so quietly you almost miss it. "Yeah, I do."

JAKE KIM

— It's a typical Wednesday at the Big Deal hangout and Jake Kim sits at the center of it all, face full of determination. He's hunched over blueprints spread across a makeshift table, Jerry and a few other trusted members surrounding him.

You slip in quietly, a tray balanced in your hands. The aroma of fresh food and drinks cuts through the usual scents of sweat and tears.

A few of the guys nod at you, respect and a hint of fondness in their eyes. You're not just their boss's partner; you're the one who brings warmth to this rough-edged place.

Jake doesn't look up as you approach. His brow is furrowed, eyes intense as he traces a route on the map.

It's a look you know well - the weight of responsibility, the constant battle to keep his people safe. You set the tray down gently, the clink of plates, bowls, and cups finally drawing his attention.

"Thanks," he mumbles, distracted. One hand reaches out, finding a cup by memory alone. He takes a sip, and you see a fraction of tension leave his shoulders. It's small, but it's enough to make your heart swell. Even in the midst of planning, he acknowledges your care.

The others grab their cups too, while some run to the food first, murmurs of thanks rippling through the group. You smile, pleased, but your eyes are on Jake.

He's back to the blueprints, the brief moment of respite already fading. You know he'll push himself too hard; he always does.

A mischievous idea forms. It's risky, maybe a bit too playful for the serious mood, but you can't help it. Jake needs a break, even if he won't admit it. So, you clear your throat softly.

"Um, excuse me," you say, your voice a blend of shyness and cheek. Jake looks up, a question in his tired eyes. You gesture to his lap, fighting back a grin. "Is this seat available?"

The warehouse goes quiet. Jerry's eyebrows shoot up. Someone in the back chokes on their drink.

But you only have eyes for Jake, watching as surprise melts into understanding, and then - oh, there it is - a warm, genuine smile that transforms his entire face.

"For you?" he says, his voice soft but carrying in the stillness. "Always."

Without hesitation, you settle onto his lap. Jake's arm comes around you automatically, a gesture so natural it's like breathing. You fit against him perfectly, your back to his chest, his chin finding its place on your shoulder.

Around you, the Big Deal members exchange glances. Some smirk, others politely avert their eyes. But there's no judgment, no scorn.

They've seen how you soothe their leader's burdens, how you bring light to his darkest days. If anyone's earned the right to this intimacy, it's you.

"Comfy?" Jake murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. There's a hint of playfulness in his voice, a side of him his enemies never see.

"Mmm," you hum contentedly, snuggling closer. "The best seat in the house."

Jake chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and into your back. His free hand finds yours, calloused fingers intertwining with yours atop the blueprints.

"Boss," Jason speaks up, his usually stoic face softened by a faint smile. "Maybe we could take a break? Looks like you've got your hands full."

There's a round of chuckles, more felt than heard. Jake looks around at his crew, sees the fatigue hidden beneath their tough exteriors.

Then he looks down at you, nestled in his arms like you belong there. Which, he thinks, you absolutely do.

"Yeah," he agrees, surprising everyone. Jake Kim doesn't take breaks; he powers through. But today, with you in his lap and his crew looking at him with loyalty mixed with concern, he allows himself this weakness. "Let's call it for now. Good work, everyone."

The warehouse comes alive with movement. Guys stretch, joke, make plans for dinner. But no one comments on how you stay right where you are, or how Jake's arms tighten around you.

"You planned this, didn't you?" he murmurs once the others have drifted away. There's no accusation in his voice, only a fond exasperation.

You turn in his lap to face him, one hand coming up to trace the sharp line of his jaw. "You needed a break," you say simply. "And I needed a seat."

Jake laughs, a real laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes. It's a rare, precious sound. "I'm starting to think you like me more for my lap than my charming personality," he teases.

"Mm, it's a tough call," you play along, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "The lap is very comfy. But the man it's attached to? He's pretty great too."

Jake's eyes soften, the hard edges of the gang leader melting away. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours. In the quiet of the now-empty warehouse, he allows himself to be vulnerable.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispers. It's an admission he'd never make in front of his crew, a crack in the armor he wears for their sake.

You cup his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "You're you," you say firmly. "That's more than enough."

He kisses you then, slow and deep, pouring into it all the words he can't say. When you part, his eyes are bright, not with the sharpness of the intensity but with something softer, something that belongs only to you.

[sorcerous-caress]

could u possibly do how companions would treat tav's kid? like in a situation where a tav had a child/younger sibling or smth. fluffy fluff all around

You know how sometimes fate aligns so that your past deeds follow you into the future? This request gave me a flashback to my old writing blog.

Companions reacting to Tav's younger sibling/child

[ bg3, fluff, several characters ]

[ Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Karlach, Laezel, Shadowheart, Minthara ]

Astarion

What on earth is that little gremlin following you around? Just make sure that no one feeds it after midnight.

To say he's not a fan is a huge underestimation, he signed up for a camp full of hot available single adults and not a daycare. How are you expecting him to be his usual self when a pg13 warning keeps chasing you around.

Whatever, he will just ignore the goblin-like thing. He can do that, how hard can it be?

Well...actually now that some time has passed, he has to admit that the little menace is really funny at times. Especially that one time he stole Gale's books to build a book throne in the mud, Astarion swears he could still hear Gale's heart shattering into a million pieces, what a fond memory.

What? Pfff, no, he isn't getting attached. He just...well was doing some trick with a coin to make it disappear, and the kid happened to be nearby, Astarion definitely wasn't trying to impress them.

Now the thing about picking locks is that it's better to teach them young. Think of all the small places, nooks, and crannies they could fit into, bringing them some loot and actually be useful.

And since he's already bothering to do it, might as well teach them how to wield a bow. Properly wield a bow, not like how Wyll does it no, it requires elegance only an elf is capable of and Astarion is the most expert here to train them.

Did you see that? They're actually getting better. He genuinely is impressed, so much that he doesn't register the smile of pride adorning his face, the excitement in his voice as he boasts about the kid's accomplishment and how they're clearly superior than the other crotch goblins.

Gale

Ah, children, truly the future of mankind. Humanity's hope and the ones who will carry the torch after us.

He is almost giddy at the idea of having an impressionable youth to teach, to steer and to spoil rotten like he was spoiled.

Will show off magic tricks nonchalantly, he definitely has a hidden agenda in trying to make the kid a wizard. After all who is better than him, an arch wizard, to teach a new curious soul about all the wonders of the weave? No magic is too advanced, everything is possible with imagination.

If anything, kids have the best imagination, better than adults do. Which is the argument he uses when you ask him why your little one can shoot invisible fireballs now.

He would love to read to them, he has all kinds of stories about heros, past legends and fables that will guarantee them a safe and sound mind. A healthy mindest to nurture then into a good kind hearted adult.

Even when his books end up the subject of the kid's abuse kind of a lot- Gale is nothing but forgiving. Cut the kid some slack, if anything, Gale is happy they are safe and sound.

Would make special meals for the kid during dinner time a lot, bunny shaped carrot cuts or soup with a sparkly finish. He can even teach them some basic recipes, cooking is a very important life skill afterall.

Wyll

He is very experienced with kids. Feels a bit concerned for the fact they're at camp all alone and volunteers to stay behind and watch them. And no, unlike the previous two, he doesn't try to indoctrinate them into elf supremacy culture nor tactically manipulate them into being a wizard.

He just lets them be a kid, plays ball with them. Shows them how to play fetch with Scratch. Overall a very cool and laid back older brother.

He definitely takes great inspiration from his own dad and how he raised him, offers the same advice and wisdom his own father shared with him.

Shows the kid that life is so much more than it seems, nothing is truly evil and nothing is truly good. Both can be found in each other. He treats the kid with respect and doesn't pull the older than you card unless necessary.

He wants them to establish their own being, their own character and carve their own path in life.

Definitely does whatever he can to keep Mizora away from the child. That devil cannot be trusted, and even while he knows the kid is smart, he doesn't want to leave it up to fate whether Mizora tricks them into a pact or not.

Halsin

The kid adores him and all of his animal forms. Halsin indulges them a lot and changes into whatever wildshape they deem the coolest that day to play with them.

When he looks at them, he sees a seed for the future. It requires care and nurturing to grow properly, and he is willing to make this world a better place for them.

Shows them how important nature is, how we should take care of the world just like it takes care of us. How we should respect the plants and the animals, how every meal is a gift and should be treasured.

He has a very fatherly vibe to him. It comes naturally, and he doesn't even have to try. Whenever the kid feels overwhelmed or scared, it's Halsin they run up and hide behind.

Also, when they get in trouble too because they know Halsin will take their side.

And he knows the kid is using him sometimes, but he lets it slide. Takes the kid on walks a lot, helps them make friends with the nearby cat that sometimes frequents the camp.

There is a potted plant they're both growing, a small shared project between the two of them. Halsin adores the look of happiness the kid has whenever the plant sprouts a new leaf and grows taller.

They don't have to know that it was Halsin's powers keeping it alive throughout the frequent changing of their camp and consistent travelling.

Karlach

Little soldier is what she calls them.

Picks them up a lot after her engine gets fixed, let's them ride on her shoulder and hang on to her horns sometimes. Even indulges them and pretends she is a robot that they're controlling.

Sorry Astarion, she can't stop hugging you. She's a simple robot, and the overlord kid on her shoulders demanded it.

While Wyll is the cool yet dependable older sibling, Karlach is the even cooler one who's very chaotic and would help the kid in their pranks and cause trouble a lot.

Ah, what the hell kid, sure you can pick up her great flaming axe and swing it around. Actually she will use a nearby table as a shield and you should definitely try throwing it at her.

It's not that she means to be a bad influence, it's just that she is extremely indulgent. That it circles back to being a bad influence without meaning to.

They want to only eat sweets for dinner and all day? Hell yeah little soldier she wants the same. They want to do it for the rest of eternity and never eat vegetables again? Sign her the fuck up because she is ride or die.

Oh yeah, your kid/sibling can swear now, thanks to her, you're welcome.

Jaheira

Is the one feeding them the vegetables, after telling Karlach off and putting her in the timeout corner.

It's not enough that she has a gaggle of children back home, but you had to bring another one with you to the camp? Oh cub, you and your own little cub are going to be the death of her.

If Halsin thinks he can hide them behind his bear form he better think twice, Jaheira isn't below putting the both of them in line if she has to.

She demands respect, and the kid definitely ends up giving it to her, begrudgingly or not. They understand she is the true form of authority in this camp and that they better do what she says and finish their chores.

They definitely see her as a grandma. She is secretly touched if they call her that but acts unaffected. She just doesn't want to let the kid down. She has to be strict because medicine never tastes sweet.

They remind her of her own kids backhome sometimes, she does get homesick a lot more with them around.

Shadowheart

No, she isn't emo. No, she isn't goth either. What is this kid talking about? They better know that worship of lady Shar is very sacred and not a passing phase she will grow out of.

You know how kids are overly curious and always ask these intrusive questions? Shadowheart is a magnet for that.

They just go up to her ,unannounced, and tell her about the recent camp news. She sips on her wine and gives the kid a glass of grape juice while they gossip.

Yes, she is a half elf. No, she is still as capable as an elf.

Wait, what did Astarion say about her? Really? Well, kid, thanks for being a snitch now. If you'd excuse her, she has urgent business to take care of.

She sees them and wonder if this is how her childhood was supposed to be like, if this is what she was missing out on all her life. Sometimes she can't help the burning envy at the back of her throat as she watches them be showered with love and care for simply existing.

But she doesn't let the bitterness get to her, not with how the kid looks at her in awe and admiration. She vows to be at least a decent example and not disappoint them.

Laezel

If left unattended, she will start a boot camp. Come one kid, get down, and give her 40 push-ups now.

What? She is just looking out for them. How else are they supposed to join the battlefield if they have no upper body strength?

Yes, the battlefield, why do you ask? Of course, she wants them in the front lines eventually. War is the perfect environment to raise a child, to make them strong and fast. You were very smart for bringing them here with you, she has to admit.

Bah, she scoofs at Karlach and Astarion's ways. It is a danger hazard at best. The kid needs to start with training equipment and not actual weapons. Her companions' lack of braincells does surprise her sometimes.

Well...she also does mention the fact that for them to graduate, they have to actually murder someone from the camp. You know, like how she murdered half her classmates when she was still in training.

She actually...does a good job at training them safely, she evaluates their weakness and strengths and gives them advice based on it on how to improve. She looks out for their well-being and shows them the most efficient way to end a fight.

But she's only joking? Right? Right???

Uh....did anyone see Gale??

Minthara

To put it in the nicest way possible, they are terrfied of her.

She thinks it's good because any sane person should be afraid of her. Frankly, she'd be concerned for a possibility of brain damage if they weren't.

They avoid her, and she barely pats an eye over it.

Although she was always the first to act whenever they were in danger, completely beheading the enemy with her sword before they could touch a hair on the kid. Still she doesn't care for the fact the child is drenched in blood and just saw someone get murdered.

She thinks they should get over it. The sooner, the better. Life is full of murder and blood, you'd be only dooming them if you don't let them see things for how they really are.

Drow culture for raising their children is very brutal, most of them die young and even the ones who do make it alive, don't live as long as the surface elves do.

Each drow carries deep scars from childhood, both on body and mind. Minthara wasn't the exception.

She tolerates your young out of respect for you. She tolerates what she deems as disobedience and disrespect from them.

You're not sure if they'll ever stop fearing her, but you also know that you can trust her to be there for them. To not hesitate a second in saving their flesh no matter what the cost is.

[trappolia]

WHEN YOU WAKE UP NEXT TO HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT ── sunday x reader, 740

you think sunday loves you.

it was not a marriage to be protested against, certainly; your standing in the family's hierarchy is not as high as your husband's, and what influence you have is due to your close connections to the siblings since early childhood, in the days where their mother still took strolls with them and neither sibling had yet to learn how to spread their wings and ascend— but you are loyal to the family and the endless dream of penacony, so there is no complaint.

they think sunday loves you as well.

it is odd. sunday is not so stoic, simply formal and polite to the point of unsettling, but they have never seen him smile at anyone the way he does to you. there is softness, they think, that can be found here — a piece of the harmony intertwined with their true order. such thing as, well, damning as love should be treaded upon with caution, but you have never shown anything but the utmost loyalty and faith to what you believe is their cause, and so they allow sunday this one weakness apart from his sister.

but no matter what anyone else — or even what you or sunday — may think, the truth is far, far more complicated.

but that thing called truth is a fickle thing, and the foundation of your marriage is laid out upon white lies of little children strolling around gardens and nursing the poor birds with their broken wings and their yearning for flight. there are secrets between the two of you far more intimate than even genuine lovers wouldn’t share, and you find that there is an unspoken intimacy in the silence of it all— your choice to wilfully turn a blind eye to your husband’s transgressions, to feed into his ideas of order and harmony that have been twisted somewhere along the makings of the man he is today, and his own to believe that you love his sister the same way he loves her.

it still creeps up on you, however, for the gods you know have never been merciful, even to one as devout and obedient as you. a thick, cloying thing that gathers in a lump at your throat— makes you sit up in bed and hold your head in your hands.

love indeed has no place in space of your marriage; a foreign concept, a mere distraction and a dangerous weakness. did sunday’s smile, his unusual soft demeanor, when it comes to you, hold the essence of love? perhaps it did— some sort of fondness from the childhood you three had shared together, but you knew very well that sunday would dispose of you if it were for the sake of his sister— and you would do the same to him.

three is a crowd, as they all say.

and for you and sunday, robin has always been the center of your marriage— he as a brother to a sister, and you as something you have long since lost the right to call yourself. in this tapestry of white lies and pretty facades, what remains as the golden truth is that you and sunday love robin above all else— even each other.

still.

in the quiet of the night, there is a call of your name. you turn, heart stuttering when your gaze unfocuses for one vital moment, and sunday’s hair appears lighter, the blue of night reflected in his eyes— and then the moment passes, and there is your husband again, grey-haired and golden-eyed.

“did you dream?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep.

your heart aches as you stare at him. you love him, you do— but not enough. it will never be enough.

“yes,” you whisper, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “but i’m awake now.”

sunday makes a groggy sound, his facade down in this bed that the two of you share out of courtesy alone. your marriage has never been consummated, but sometimes, at night, you can tell yourself that you love him when he holds you in your bouts of nightmarish terror or cold shivers. and when he pulls you to him with a whisper of “sleep now. the hour is still late”, you close your eyes and let yourself dream of hair like slivers of moonlight and blue like a dying evening—

you escape into your dreams once more, to the life you could have had.

© trappolia 2024

[canihaveacalmtime]

You and your twin brother, Gory, have always been living two opposite, different lives despite living in the same house.

While your twin can have all the luxury he ever wanted, can have all your parent's love and caring, have all the servants waiting to serve him anytime, anywhere and any second. Your life was the opposite.

Your parent don't even bother to bat an eye about your existence because you don't laugh and talk like Gory, you don't look as good as Gory, your grades weren't as good as Gory, you were a weaker twin, a twin that lives in the shadow of the other twin. So even if you try to, you can never gain anyone's love for you.

Are you jealous and envy? Of course, that's what makes a human but are you happy for your brother? Yeah, you really feel happy for him that he's living a life of happiness. But your twin doesn't really fond of you to be exact, Gory can't accept the fact that there's another version of him in this house.

As a result of selfishness, he wanted to get rid of you, he corner you into the wall with a scissor as he stabbed into your left eye. Then he stab himself in the arm as he screams for the servants to come, making the scene look like everything was your fault.

You were soon kicked out, you did left a note for the head butler though, and now with independence in your hands, you can finally go far away and begin your new life.

Your absence, though, soon begin to make a great impact inside the family. Because for years, you were the one that helps keeping the family together, you instructs the servants, assist the head butler anytime he isn't there to control everything. It just that, you did it all in the shadows, you accept the less to give more because you love this family and just like any other children out there, you desire to be loved too.

But that desire was put off by yourself because everything you did gained you nothing. So your new desire was to leave and the moment that desire came true, your shoulders weren't heavy anymore and for the first time, you smile but it was also the first time, your twin felt a bit of your sadness.

As you grew, you soon forget your old family as you have jobs to fill your mind with, you don't desire success but you wanted a wealthy and peaceful life, you didn't let your half blind eye become an obstacle for that.

During your conversation with your close friend at the company you're working in, she asked you if you had a twin or not because the company's CEO that your friend met a few days ago looked so similar to you. That's right, you have a twin, you almost forgot about that. You told your friend that you don't have any twin and the similar maybe just a coincidence. As you two chat if off for the day, she reminded you that the CEO she talked about will come here tomorrow, you didn't really have any emotions to react to that as you wave her goodbye, you return to your apartment knowing that tomorrow will just be a normal work day.

But you didn't expect Gory to embrace you so tightly like this, looks like a really lovey reunion but you were super uncomfortable so you tried your best to push him away then went off with your day. And to your shock, you are here, at the family dining table just hours later, when evening comes.

Your parents try to make conversation with you a lot but you only make fake laughs and answer their questions with yes and no, they act very sweet to you and your twin, where's the twin that always glare and spat at you back then? Who is this caring and kind Gory? You were feeling nauseous the entire time and didn't eat anything more than a small piece of meat, as you ask to leave soon, they tried to hold you back for family reasons and how they missed you.

You know they are being genuine but does it matter anymore? You don't desire their attention anymore now that you've grown so you insist on leaving until your twin hold your arm back and told you that he needs to show you something important in your old shared bedroom. He pleads too much so you ended up accepting to follow him.

That 'something' however was a bat to your head, he holds your unconscious body and promise that when you wake up, he shall become the twin brother you desired and loved.

------------

Waking up with a heavy head, you have no idea where you are, who you are and who these people are. One thing that you know is that they really loved you and have been taking a good care of you for months now. You still wonder why they never let you go outside the mansion's gates but you didn't really mind about that, you feel happy enough here with your parents and your twin brother.

----------------------------------------

A/N: Sorry because I didn't post anything for awhile, school's tough man, sigh 😭😔

[hhughes]

♡ 𝆬 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐄

𝓹airing , violet kingston x luke hughes

in which luke’s day automatically gets better whenever he spots his best friend in the cafeteria. (wc ; 1.6K )

꒰ 𝓷ote , they’re back! our fav duo returns with a few minor differences. this is very introductory to them. so kind of not boring, but not major to the plot line yet either. but I’ve missed them. I hope you enjoy as always and spam the inbox with luke and vi thoughts now that they’re back <3 . . . ꒱

There were few things that gave Luke those excited flutters in the pit of his stomach. That short moment right before he stepped onto the ice, wakeboarding on the lake in the summer, and whenever he laid eyes on violet kingston.

It was as if his body had a secret ability to notice whenever she stepped into a room. As if a piece of him was missing and walking out and about in the world, and whenever that piece entered his vicinity his body became hyper aware, wanting to be close to her, attracting them to each other like magnets. And whenever he laid eyes on her, those excited flutters in his belly morphed into full blown somersaults.

Somersaults that were currently present as he watched her walk into the cafeteria, straight past his table where his group of obnoxiously loud hockey friends, including his older brother, were sitting, and make her way to the growing line of students waiting to buy lunch. Luke didn’t even wait two minutes before he was getting up from his seat with the intention of following her.

“uh - I’ll be right back,” he announces to the group, the only person really paying attention being his best friend Dylan since Jack and his rowdy group of friends were too busy discussing how Trevor and his current girlfriend broke up, again. His tall, lanky frame suddenly jumping up must’ve caught their attention though because just as he was making a move to leave, a familiar voice called out.

“Moose, don’t know where you’re going, but do you mind grabbing me a fork on the way back?” Trevor asks, with an overdramatic pout, and like with everything Trevor does, it makes Luke slightly annoyed.

“Sure,” he agrees easily, just to get out of there as soon as possible and not attract any attention. Or any more attention, he should say. Luke was grateful that he entered high school and had his older brother to rely on to make the transition as smooth as possible. But there were times that Luke wished him and Jack didn’t go to the same school. That they didn’t run in the same circles. That he was just Luke and not Luke, Jack’s little brother.

Don’t get him wrong, Luke loves his brothers. Both of them are genuinely his best friends, but being seen with Jack in the hallways, or in the cafeteria, or even in the parking lot before school, attracted a lot of attention to him. And while Jack, Trevor, Alex and Cole seemed to thrive under that sort of attention, Luke wasn’t used to it and didn’t want to be.

“You’re better off getting your own fork Z, he’s not coming back any time soon,” Jack comments with a knowing grin but Luke ignores the comment and scans the cafeteria line, looking for his girl.

He’s known violet practically his entire life. Their mom’s are best friends, they played hockey together in their college days and remained in touch in the years after. The Kingston and Hughes families often spent summers together, which was where Luke saw Violet the most when they were kids, but it wasn’t really until their family moved to Michigan that they grew as close as they are now.

All three Hughes brothers are quite fond of the entire Kingston family as a whole. Her mom was the head athletic trainer for the ndtp, and her dad was one of the best agents in the league who represented some of the best players and will undoubtedly represent all three Hughes brothers at one point. Her younger brother is on the road to playing exactly where Jack and Luke are now. They were as much a hockey family as the Hughes’, which of course bonded them all even more.

When he spots her again, he immediately starts moving, heart beating faster and faster the closer he gets. He takes a moment to observe her, from her white tennis shoes and skirt, to her blue cropped tee with the school logo on it, and the matching blue ribbon in her curly hair.

“game day?” is his form of greeting as he stands next to her, and he has to bite his cheek to stop from smiling as she immediately turns at the sound of his voice, eyes having that little spark they always do and a matching dimple on each cheek as she grins up at him.

“Hey bub,” she says a little breathlessly, using that ridiculous nickname that makes his cheeks redden a little and luke somehow doesn’t mind when it falls from her lips, as she steps closer to him and luke relishes in the way her body leans into his as his hand goes to rest on the familiar spot on her lower back.

“Hi sweet girl,” he greets back, brushing his lips against her temple and briefly breathing in her familiar strawberry scent. “I’m not cutting in line by the way, just keeping this one company while she waits,” luke explains to the girl in line behind them and she sends him a very overexaggerated, sugar-sweet smile.

“You can cut in front of me any day little hughes,” the girl responds and luke sends her a tight lipped smile, pushing violet slightly to move forward when she gives the girl a strange look.

“It’s game day?” luke asks again, when he realises she didn’t answer the first time, hoping to distract her and smooth that adorable frown that was currently between her brows.

“Yeah, first home football game of the season. And the first cheer event,” she adds and luke can tell she was a bit nervous about the latter. As long as luke has known her, violet has been a dancer. It was her equivalent of hockey. And since the school didn’t have a dance team, only dance classes, luke encouraged violet to join the cheer team when she brought up that she wanted to be involved in an extra curricular at the school. She’s been his little cheerleader his entire life, and she was a phenomenal dancer so Luke had no doubts that she would make the team, and she did.

“You’re gonna do great,” luke says, rubbing soothing circles on her waist on the exposed skin between her skirt and shirt and before she can reply they’re at the front of the line and violet is grabbing her food. She send Luke a mock little glare as he pays for her chicken wrap before she gets the chance to, but as they make their way back in the direction of luke’s table, she presses a little kiss to his bicep that he knows is a thank you.

“You’re coming to the game right?” she asks, when they stop a few feet away from jack and the other guys, who were all watching this interaction take place.

“Yeah, these idiots will probably drag me to it,” luke responds, loud enough for them to hear, causing someone to throw a napkin his way, that he catches mid air, and his lips tip up into a smile when it results in violet releasing a small laugh.

“Okay, I’ll just see you tonight then. We’re coming over for dinner, so I’ll probably get a ride home with you and jack after the game?” violet asks

“Yeah for sure. Is Dax going?” Luke asks

“I’m not sure,” she answers, biting her lip in thought, luke’s thumb pulling it from beneath her teeth.

“I’ll text and ask. I don’t mind looking after him if he wants to come with,” luke says, and violet feels her heart expand ten sizes that he’s thinking about her little brother.

“Thank you,” she tells him, grabbing and squeezing his hand and he pulls her into a quick hug, pressing a brief kiss to the top of her head before letting go and reluctantly stepping away.

“I’ll see you tonight,” luke promises

“Oh luke, one more favour before you go?” she asks him, and he immediately nods without even asking what it is

“Can I borrow your hoodie? I have a run through in the gym during the second half of lunch and I forgot my jacket. You know how cold it gets in there,” she explains and luke frowns slightly at the idea of violet cold and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, it’s in my locker though. Let me go grab it for you,” he offers, but she stops him with a gentle hand on his chest.

“No worries, I’m going that way anyway so I’ll just grab it. I know the combination. Thank you again,” she says, standing on her tiptoes to brush a light kiss on what is supposed to be his cheek but ends up on his jaw.

“see ya later, alligator,” he says, grinning like an idiot when she giggles as she walks away and answers “in a while crocodile”

The smile quickly disappears when he turns and finds the entire table still staring at him, all of them with teasing smiles and shit eating grins on their faces.

“Don’t even start,” luke warns them, but none of them heed his warning, all of them starting to tease him simultaneously.

“You forgot my fork luke,” trevor points out, and luke sends him a grateful look as he’s given a chance to escape. For once he’s feeling grateful for words coming out of Trevor’s mouth but that doesn’t last long either as Trevor says “see ya later alligator,” and jack answers “in a while crocodile” in a mocking, high pitched voice, both of them laughing afterwards.

Luke was still going to grab his fork, but whether that for was gonna be used for eating, or to stab eyeballs was still to be determined. . .

[misswynters]

Chance Meeting in Oldtown

Daeron Targaryen x reader

[WARNING: none

[word count: 561

[a/n: harry gilby fan casted as daeron since we have no daeron currently (pretend in the gif he has white hair)

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The bustling streets of oldtown were alive with the sounds and smells of the market. As the daughter of House Baratheon, you had visited many cities, but Oldtown's unique charm always drew you in. Today, you wandered through the maze of stalls, your curiosity piqued by the variety of goods and the stories behind them.

As you admired a delicate piece of jewelry at one of the stalls, you felt a presence beside you. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with a young man of striking Targaryen features: silver hair, violet eyes, and an air of quiet confidence. He smiled, a warm and genuine expression that immediately put you at ease.

"Admiring the crafts of Oldtown?" he asked, his voice smooth and melodic.

You returned his smile, nodding. "Yes, they're quite beautiful. The artisans here are very talented."

He extended a hand in greeting. "I am Daeron Targaryen. It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."

You took his hand, a bit surprised by the informal introduction. "I am ____ Baratheon. The pleasure is mine, Prince Daeron.”

Daeron's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "What brings a Baratheon to Oldtown? Seeking knowledge at the Citadel, or perhaps just enjoying the sights?"

"A bit of both, actually," you replied. "I find the history and culture here fascinating. And what about you, My prince? What brings you to the market today?"

He laughed softly, a sound that was both charming and disarming. "Sometimes, it's nice to escape the confines of the keep and see the world through the eyes of its people. Plus, I have a fondness for exploring new places."

You found yourself drawn into conversation with him, his easygoing nature and genuine interest making the time pass quickly. As you walked together through the market, you shared stories of your respective houses, your hopes for the future, and your thoughts on the state of the realm.

At one point, Daeron paused at a stall selling rare books. He picked up a worn, leather-bound volume and handed it to you. "Here, a gift. This book contains some of the oldest legends of Westeros. I think you might enjoy it."

You accepted the book, touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Daeron. I will treasure it."

As the afternoon sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, Daeron turned to you with a thoughtful expression. "It has been a pleasure spending the day with you, ____ . I hope we can meet again."

You smiled, feeling a connection with the Targaryen prince that you hadn't expected. "I would like that very much, Daeron."

He took your hand once more, this time pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Until we meet again, my lady."

As Daeron walked away, you couldn't help but watch him go, a sense of anticipation and curiosity filling your heart. The chance meeting in Oldtown had been brief, but it left you with the feeling that it was only the beginning of something significant.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗  

Back in your chambers that evening, you opened the book Daeron had given you. As you turned the pages, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for you and the enigmatic prince you had met in the heart of Oldtown.

© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

[lecsainz]

Kk! So I absolutely loved your last piece about Carlos and the heiress!reader, and I have to agree I really really love those blended fics. Something about them just hits different ya know? And then I saw this post https://www.tumblr.com/monzabee/729167936518012928 and was like god I wish someone still wrote for kimi. And then off I’m scrolling through your blog and I see that ask were apparently you do?? Like holy shit bestie! This is like the greatest day ever! So all of that to say will you please please right something that involves the video from that post?? Pretty please??

MELTING THE ICEMAN

parings: kimi räikkönen x wife!reader

author 🗒️’s: my heart melted writing this, I hope it turned out as you want, love

summary: the one where you see your husband taking care of your son and feel that you couldn’t be happier as you are.

✩. . . masterlist !

Kimi Räikkönen, the Iceman of Formula 1, had always been known for his stoic and unemotional demeanor on the race track. But at home, in the quiet moments, he transformed into a different person entirely. There was a side of him that very few people got to see, a side that was incredibly warm, loving, and tender.

One sunny afternoon, the two of you sat in the cozy living room, surrounded by the soft laughter and gurgles of your 6-month-old son, Jake. Kimi held the baby in his arms, cradling him gently as he made funny faces to elicit the most delightful giggles from your little one.

Kimi leaned down, his lips brushing against Jake's plump, rosy cheeks. "Who's the happiest baby in the world, huh?" he cooed, his Finnish accent making it all the more endearing.

Jake's response was a chorus of delighted baby laughter, a sound that could melt the coldest of hearts. You watched in awe as your husband continued to play with Jake, making silly noises and pretending to nibble on his tiny fingers. It was a side of Kimi that you fell in love with all over again, a side that he reserved for his family.

"Kimi," you whispered, unable to contain your fondness, "you are the best dad in the world."

Kimi looked up from Jake's little face, his azure eyes meeting yours. A small, warm smile graced his lips, a rare sight for the world but a daily occurrence in the privacy of your home. "I learned from the best," he said softly, referring to you.

You couldn't help but blush at the compliment. Kimi's transformation into a devoted father had surprised you, but it had also filled your heart with an indescribable joy. His dedication and love for Jake were unmistakable, and you couldn't have asked for a better partner to share parenthood with.

As the day continued, you both took turns caring for Jake, feeding him, changing his diapers, and watching him drift off to sleep in his crib. Every moment felt like a cherished memory in the making, and you couldn't help but daydream about the future.

When Kimi returned to the living room after putting Jake down for his nap, he found you deep in thought. You looked up at him with a dreamy smile, and he knew you were up to something.

"Darling, what's on your mind?" he asked, settling beside you on the couch.

You took his hand and interlaced your fingers. "Kimi, I was just thinking about how wonderful this is—our little family. I love watching you with Jake, and I can't help but wonder… I want more of these moments. I want more children with you."

Kimi's typically cool exterior cracked, and he looked at you with a mix of surprise and delight. "More children?" he repeated, as if the idea had never occurred to him before. But the spark of warmth in his eyes revealed that he was just as excited by the prospect.

You nodded, your heart pounding with anticipation. "Yes, more children. I want to see you as a father again and again, to have more of these beautiful moments with you."

A slow, genuine smile spread across Kimi's face, and he pulled you into a loving embrace. "I'd love that," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you, and I love our family. Let's make more beautiful memories together."

The two of you sat there, lost in the prospect of a larger, even more joyful family. Kimi held you close, and you knew that your dreams were aligned. It was a beautiful day of laughter, love, and dreams for the future, all in the gentle embrace of your husband and your precious son, Jake. The Iceman had certainly melted, and you couldn't have been happier about it.

[leviathan-supersystem]

i know this is quite an open-ended question, so apologies in advance, but as a marxist-leninist what are your main issues with post-modernism/post-structuralism as a school of thought? from libs to anarchists, lots of (so-called) progressives/leftists seem to really enjoy it, but its reception is a far less positive among communists/marxists from what i gather. what are your thoughts on it, and on the work of people like foucault, deleuze, guattari, or even more recent ones like judith butler etc? once again sorry if this is too open-ended, but i really value your insight on politics and philosophy etc etc.

well, to be clear i do think there are some good critiques which have come out of the post-modernist camps, and consequently i would consider myself more of a neo-modernist than a classical modernist, as i do think mdernism as a concept needs to be updated in response to post-modernist critiques.

at it's best, post-modernism offers genuinely useful critiques of the limits of our ability to know things, genuine good points about the inherently fuzzy and indefinable boundaries of any system of categories that human beings could ever create.

at it's worst, post-modernism rejects the very notion that there's a material world that we can understand, and rejects the very notion of categories as a whole. once it crosses the boundary into this sort of solipsism is utterly useless to me.

ultimately once post-modernism crosses the boundary into this sort of solipsism- which it often does- it becomes completely incompatible with marxism, which is fundamentally based on the notion that there is a material world and we can learn things about it. no, we can never know things with 100% certainty, but we can know with better than 0% certainty

i really love deleuze and guattari's Capitalism and Schizophrenia, but ultimately i think it's more of a piece of poetry than a piece of real scientific theory. and i do believe, fundamentally, that the approach to analyzing capitalism must be a scientific one.

i'm not very fond of foucault at all, because frankly i'm a bit of a panopticon apologist. these sorts of "panopticons" are just part of living in a group with other people, and while i certainly think there are points to be made about how these sort of systems of sousveilance need to be regulated in order for them to not be excessive and harmful, but ultimately these sorts of regulations on those systems are themselves enforced by social systems of sousveilance. so for example, the idea of taking pictures of people in public and posting them online, i agree that there should be social conventions discouraging that behavior- but inevitably these social conventions are enforced through similar "panopticon" style social systems- that when someone sees someone posting a creepshot online, the observers collectively disincentivize that behavior, tell them "dude don't take pictures of random people in public and post them online to talk shit about them you dick" etc. anyways, that's why i don't think the foucaultian persective on "panopticons" is particularly useful though i agree that obviously those social systems exist.

[baeksqt]

𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x gerwnt!fem!reader

summary: clueless lena has you in a tight grip

(a/n: a small piece for lena cause I miss her (ಡ‸ಡ) so I hope you enjoy this! also my inbox is finally open for requests so go ahead my lovelies)

word: 586

genre: fluff + angst (?)

The warm summer air soothed your skin as Lena laid on top of you on the loveseat sofa, hoping to nap the evening away. You could finally see each other with training camp in full swing for the international break. You run a lazy hand through Lena’s hair, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone as Lena drifts in and out of sleep. The comfortable silence between the two of you was accented by the subdued commentary of the football game on TV and Lena’s occasional snore.

You notice her eyebrows furrow in discomfort, followed by a huff as she shifts and wraps her arms around your waist. Gently withdrawing your hand from her hair, you begin to trace it down her back, taking in the contours and nuances of her musculature.

“When are you heading back to Spain?” Her question startled you slightly, the vibrations of her voice resonating against your stomach.

“Somewhere around the last week of August.” You sighed in response, knowing that there wasn’t much time between the Olympics and you heading back to your respective club, Barcelona.

“Are you going back with Alexia?” Lena then looked up at you with delicate brown eyes, a soft wrinkle appearing on her forehead as her chin poked your stomach, toying with the gold charms on your necklace.

You pout at her subtle protectiveness so cupping her cheeks, and combing the flyaway hairs from her face.

“Yeah…” you replied, pausing for a moment, “that shouldn’t change anything.” mumbling to yourself. To that, Lena swiftly sat up, letting go of your necklace as a puzzled expression formed across her face.

“You realise that she’s interested in you, right? I don't even have to be there for me to know that.” She inquired with a firm voice and piercing eyes.

“And it’s very much one-sided.” You finished her sentence as your hand now replaced hers in fiddling with the delicate pendant, avoiding her gaze as you finished her sentence. You were well aware of Lena’s feelings about your friendship with Alexia, throwing a small sarcastic comment here and there whenever you mentioned her in a conversation. Since moving to the Catalan region, you had noticed Alexia's growing fondness for you, but you had been subtly declining her advances as you already had feelings for someone else.

That someone else was now sitting in between your legs, waiting to be upset with you. Inspecting her face for a moment, hoping she’ll respond.

“I know, that doesn't sound believable at all, but the feelings aren't mutual on my end.” your pendant slipped out of sweaty fingertips, as you spoke. “So, for when you get your act together, I’ll still be here.” throwing her a nervous smile.

“What do you mean by that?” Lena fixed you with a piercing glare but a hint of softness sat behind her eyes, arms folded across her chest.

The tension in the room was palpable, the unspoken emotions lingering between you like a heavy cloud.

“Well, when you're ready to admit that we are more than friends, you won't have to worry about anyone else.” you motioned between the two of you, taking her hand and placing it back onto your necklace pendant, your heart pounding underneath.

“I can promise you that I won’t keep you waiting.” Lena’s face lit up with a shy yet genuine smile, placing a tender kiss on your lips. Leaving you with warm cheeks and a deep sense of contentment, knowing that her promise was sealed with that tender kiss.

[meganelixabethh]

I know I won’t get it- but I want Sunrise on the Reaping to be about Effie Trinket- it would be such a good book!!! All we really know is that the book starts on the 50th reaping and that it’s a look at propaganda. We also know our girl Suzanne only writes when she has something to say- and what better time to make the Effie Trinket Point than now?

Don’t get me wrong- I love to read the fanfics of Effie being disenfranchised from the top of the first book and helping the rebels every step of the way- I live for it- but I also don’t think it’s reality for the canon. Effie Trinket is a character with grey morality at best in the first book. No she’s not organising the games, or planning them, she’s not the iron fist that forces the children to comply nor is she the driving force behind the tradition- hell if she didn’t do it someone else would, right? But she picks the names. She chooses to be close to it. She isn’t as horrified as she should be

SHE. IS. COMPLICIT.

But if you asked her- if you sat her down and said heart of hearts, do you care about these children? She would say yes. She has a complete mental disconnect between the harm she is causing and the compassion she feels for the people being harmed. This is a direct comparison to the modern approach to harm. Just look at Palestine.

I also don’t believe Effie saw anything wrong with the games until one very specific moment. She looked at the glass ball at the 75th reaping and saw a single piece of paper, and she thought ‘this isn’t chance. This isn’t a game. This is a choice and I don’t want to pick up that slip of paper’. I whole heartedly believe it took an emotional closeness to the person being harmed to make her realise all those people were just the same as her- EXACTLY LIKE WE DO IN THE WEST.

Further details under the cut. TW for death, implied SA and pregnancy loss.

So the book starts with the 50th reaping- Effie is between 6 and 16 depending on how old you think she is. I personally think she’s about 8-10. I also think this is the first games where she’s really gotten involved in and is interested in the whole thing from start to finish. She watches the reapings and is absolutely enraptured with Haymitch from the moment he gets on stage- full on little girl crush mode. She follows the whole game and is so happy when he wins. This is the summer she decides she wants to work in the games. She follows the games every summer, gets a glamorous games job in the Capitol when she graduates (I think she went to uni tbh our girl is smart) and then became an escort.

When she’s offered 12 she’s annoyed- after all she’s the darling of the games circuit and she’s put her time in- but 12 is the only job going and if she wants the promotion she needs to take it. She thinks fondly of Haymitch’s games though. She no longer has her little girl crush on him, but she assumes the drunkenness must be an act for the Capitol, some kind of play. When she gets to 12 she realises it’s not. She sees how broken he is. She sees that this destroyed him and she just… doesn’t get it. She develops a fondness for him, still completely believing in the games, and they work together happily enough as far as she’s concerned. She starts dragging him out of bed and shoving him into nice clothes to make the district look good at first, but then she does it because she thinks it might be the only time he has anyone making sure he looks after himself. She is genuinely sad when their tributes die every year. She cries in her room at night after they go, and Haymitch can hear her through the wall when he’s sober enough.

Then the 74th happen. She loves Katniss and Peeta- I fully believe that. She likes them from the beginning, she agrees they have a chance, and when she’s not trying for sponsors, her and Haymitch sit in silence in the penthouse, watching and watching and watching. She grips his hand tightly for hours at a time, eyes almost unblinking and fixed on the screen, knees drawn up to her chest. It’s the first time he sees her as human, and she almost breaks his knuckles during the finale with the mutts. The moment they win, she lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and went to celebrate her first victors. She deliberately turned her face away from the horror because it was easier to not feel the breadth of it. She does exactly what we did to Ukraine. What we continue to do to Palestine.

To be completely clear- she still thinks the games are right through all of this. When she comes back for the victory tour she still thinks this is all fantastic. That mental disconnect is still there. But then eleven happens. If I’m remembering right she gets blood on her and is freaking out about her dress but I would like to see that from her side. I want to see that an innocent man was shot through the head so close to her, his blood and brains splattered across her dress and her skin. I want to see her freak out and everyone assume it’s about the dress but it’s actually about the fact she saw the light leave his eyes. This is the night she goes to Haymitch. She asks him for a drink and she asks him if he thought the man felt it. He isn’t kind to her. He asks her if she ever wondered if the kids felt it? If he felt it? This is the first time they sleep together. She doesn’t spend the night in his cabin. Their physical relationship continues but nothing else changes.

Then the quarter quell- she’s upset when Snow announces the rules. She feels hard done by but also scared for Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch. She understands that she’s avoiding the issue in her mind but she clings to the idea that the games are good so she doesn’t have to face up to the horror she helped meter out. It’s that glass reaping ball that does it. That glass ball with a single slip of paper in that breaks the back of her indoctrination. It all falls on top of her all at once. Her sobs after the bloodbath, alone in her room, the desperation she felt, not just for Katniss and Peeta to live, but for her to not have to watch them die, the man in eleven, the quarter quell, Hatmitch’s sharp words, the drink she craved after she saw it, the smile she plastered on, Haymitch’s hand gripped tightly in hers, the most genuine connection she’s felt in years and oh god are you supposed to be this fucking tired when you’re only 35? She looks at that paper and she is almost incandescent with rage. She loves Katniss and she doesn’t want to be the one who says her name. She doesn’t want to do this anymore. She doesn’t want this life. She doesn’t want the games to happen at all. She’s done.

But now she’s afraid. She’s seen avoxes, she knows what happens to rebels and she’s not quite brave enough to say anything to Haymitch other than veiled comments. She’s not sure he agrees with her and he’s not sure it wasn’t an accidental turn of phrase. The moment the arena blows out she’s dragged away in handcuffs. The prison is harrowing. What little hair she has is shaved off and she spends hours having questions thrown at her that she doesn’t have the answers to. She’s beaten, electrocuted and starved. Her bones are broken, they pull a few of her teeth out and some of the things they do are so awful she can’t even bring herself to think about it inside her own head. She doesn’t feel brave. She doesn’t have the answers to give them and she’s not sure she wouldn’t tell them if she did. She’s too Capitol for the rebels and too district for the Capitol. She’s not rescued, she’s released at the end of the war. Well, ‘released’ is a strong word. The guards unlock all the doors and tell them they have been pardoned and then walk out. She drags herself outside, clutching the walls and collapses in the courtyard as a humanitarian aid worker rushes over.

She spends the first tumultuous month sedated in a hospital bed, blissfully unaware of Coin’s assassination and the last games. When she comes to, Haymitch is sat at her bedside, looking haggard and tired. She looks better than she did on the floor of the courtyard, but not by much. When he sees her open her eyes he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He apologises for not managing to get her out. She knows she should be cross with him, but she can’t find the energy to blame him. They’ve both wasted so much time already. She pushes herself up shakily and wraps her atrophied arms around his neck, telling him that it doesn’t matter, that he’s here now. When he lowers her back down, she asks immediately after Katniss and Peeta. He tells her what happened in as painless terms as he can find, and when he’s done, she can barely keep her eyes open, tears tracking silently down her hollowed cheeks. He gently kisses her on the forehead and says he’ll be back tomorrow. It takes her a long, long time to recover.

She finds out the rest of what happened while she was imprisoned and hospitalised in dribs and drabs. Some from him, some from news, some from conversations she overhears. It takes months and months before she tells him, in halting sentences, when happened in the prison. She doesn’t tell him everything. Some things are too awful to know. They’ve not resumed their physical relationship, but they feel inexplicably drawn to one another, and in a fit of impulsivity, he invites her to come to 12 when he leaves and she does. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions, but she does tell him, eventually, all the things that led to her renouncing the games just before the rebellion. He admits to her the doctor told him she was pregnant when they found her, but miscarried while she was asleep. She can’t get out of bed for days afterwards and he brings her food and water until she’s ready to get up again. She’s glad he knows in a way. She’s glad she never had to tell him what they did to her in there.

The next summer rolls around, and Effie is finally well enough to walk up to the woods outside the district and spends all day picking wildflowers. She ties them into attractive arrangements just like her mother taught her, using brown string instead of satin ribbons. Haymitch is in the newly built square when she arrives with her flowers. She lays them all gently on the ground, one for each child she reaped, including Prim. Haymitch walks over to her as she bows her head, slipping her hand into his. She says she’s sorry, he says ‘I know sweetheart’ and the book ends there

I know we aren’t going to get this, it’s not even a possibility but a girl can dream.

[wardensantoineandevka]

I will say, at the end of the day, I am very fond of Illario Dellamorte, despite it all. Yes, he managed to make every single POSSIBLE bad decision one can make, then figured out how to make a few more that nobody else would've thought possible. Yes, he was increasingly sloppy and incredibly stupid about it all. Yes, a lot of his frustration and rage is incredibly misdirected. Yes, I said before the game came out that I support him having a villain era, and I still do because it's fun and I love mess and drama—as much as he stresses me out and makes me want to strangle him because Jesus Fucking Christ.

Still, I think I like the idea of forgiving him. For me, there's something interesting in how he doesn't kill Caterina, in how he didn't ask for what happened to Lucanis and seems genuinely angry—wrong as he is to direct it at Lucanis—that the control that Lucanis so highly prized was taken from him rather than dying at his best, in how he can engineer Lucanis's death but experience a grief that still feels harrowingly genuine at the wake, in how he clearly is grasping at any possible advantage and is carelessly choosing his allies not because he believes in their goals or ideals but because he's desperately power-hungry and ambitious and no more. In how, if he is forgiven, Lucanis is impressed he almost got away with it, in how Illario goes to help the Crows in Minrathous in that last gambit.

He's a mess, and he's selfish and ambitious and vicious and contradictory. But, I have a soft spot for characters like him and relationships like his and Lucanis's, y'know? Forgiving him and forcing him to work out his life after he's burned nearly every bridge he has is just really interesting to me, especially given how Lucanis is still full of hope and affection for him alongside the hurt. How do you rebuild after all that, you don't even have the devil-may-care breezy mask anymore because everyone knows better now. Figure out where he fits now in his cousin's life, because I do think—at the end of the day—the affection and relief is still there from both sides, under it all. Deeply buried possibly, for Illario, but there.

I think there's enough pieces here to suggest that he and Lucanis have a chance to actually figure it out, and to suggest that Illario might actually get his shit together and be willing to given opportunity, time, and patience. It's also a messy choice (and a huge risk), but I do personally like the idea of forgiving him. I like the messy, insane, dramatic narrative of it. He has potential, as Lucanis himself notes. I would love to see if he can rise to it, now that he's gotten all of this out of his system.

Or, at least forgive him because there's something funny about that and I want to see what else he does if given the chance. It'll probably also be a mess, but I'd love to see what messes he gets up to when he's not plotting against the person closest to him in the world. It'll be fun! But, sincerely, I do think he can get his shit together, and I hope and believe he wants to. It's the more interesting and fun story to me, for both him and Lucanis, personally speaking.