#he must have an affinity for the play.

[hopelesslyprosaic]

A Different Kind of Queen of Crime- five ways that Dorothy L Sayers changed the way we see Sherlock Holmes

For my first Holmesian post- a crossover with one of my more usual subjects on my other blog! For when one is talking about Sherlock Holmes, in particular Sherlock Holmes scholarship, there are nor many more pivotal names than Dorothy L Sayers. Sure, Christopher Morley may have had a greater impact on Sherlockian culture, and Richard Lancelyn Green on Holmesian scholarship, to name only a few- but Sayers's contributions to scholarship and "the game" were early and underratedly pivotal.

If you're a Sherlock Holmes fan who is unfamiliar with Sayers's influence, or a Sayers fan who had no idea she had any interest in Holmes, keep reading! (And if you're a Sherlock Holmes fan who wants to know what I think about Sayers, check out her tag on my main blog, @o-uncle-newt. Or, more to the point, just read her fantastic books.)

There's a great compilation of Sayers's writing and lecturing on the topic of Holmes called Sayers on Holmes (published by the Mythopoeic Press in 2001), though some of her essays are also available in her collection Unpopular Opinions, which is where I first encountered them. It's not THAT extensive, and it's from an era in which Sherlock Holmes scholarship, such as it was, was still very much nascent. While a lot may have happened since Sayers was writing and talking about Holmes, she got there early and she made an immediate impact- and here's how:

She helped create and define Sherlockian scholarship: Don't take this from me, take it from the legendary Richard Lancelyn Green! At a joint conference of the Sherlock Holmes Society and Dorothy L Sayers Society, he said that "Dorothy L. Sayers understood better than anyone before her the way of playing the game and her Sherlockian scholarship gave credibility and humor to this intellectual pursuit. Her standing as an authority on the art of detective fiction and as a major practitioner invigorated the scholarship, and her...Holmesian research is the benchmark by which other works are judged. It would be fair to say, as Watson said of Irene Adler, that for Sherlockians she is the woman and that …she 'eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.'" We'll go into a bit more detail on some specific examples below, but one important one is that, as Green notes, Sayers was not only a mystery writer but an acknowledged authority on mystery fiction, whose (magisterial) introduction to The Omnibus of Crime, a then-groundbreaking history of the genre of mystery fiction, included a highly regarded section on the influence of Holmes on mystery fiction. She was able to write not just literate detective stories but literate critiques of others' stories and the genre (as collected in the excellent volume Taking Detective Stories Seriously), and as such, the writing she did on Holmes was well received.

She cofounded the (original iteration of) the Sherlock Holmes Society of London: While the current iteration of the Society lists itself as having been founded in 1951, a previous iteration existed through the 1930s, founded as a response to the creation of the Baker Street Irregulars in New York and run by a similar concept- the meeting of Sherlock Holmes fans every so often for dinner at a restaurant. Sayers, who seems to have been much more clubbable than Mycroft Holmes, helped run the Detection Club on corresponding lines as well. (Fun fact, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was invited to be the first president of the Detection Club! However, he refused on grounds of poor health and, either right before or right after he died, the Detection Club met for the first time with GK Chesterton as president.) While the 1930s society didn't last, and Sayers didn't decide to join the newly reconstituted club in 1951, her presence from the beginning was key to the establishment of Holmesian scholarship.

She helped define The Game: Sayers didn't invent The Game, as the use of Higher Criticism in the study of Sherlock Holmes came to be called. (The Game now often refers to something a bit broader than that, but it's a pretty solid working definition to say that it is the study of Holmes stories as though they took place in, and can be reconciled with, our world.) Her friend Father Ronald Knox largely invented it almost by accident- as Sayers described it, he wrote that first essay "with the aim of showing that, by those methods [Higher Criticism], one could disintegrate a modern classic as speciously as a certain school of critics have endeavoured to disintegrate the Bible." This exercise backfired, as instead of finding this analysis of Holmes stories silly, people found it compelling and engaging- and this style of Sherlockian writing lives on to this day in multiple journals. Sayers, with her interest in religious scholarship as well as Holmes, was well equipped to both understand Knox's original motivations as well as to carry on in the spirit in which further Game players would take his work, as we'll see. She also wrote the line that would come to define the tone used in The Game- that it "must be played as solemnly as a county cricket match at Lord's; the slightest touch of extravagance or burlesque ruins the atmosphere." While comedic takes on The Game would never vanish, her establishment of tone has lingered, and pretty much any in-depth explanation of The Game will include her insightful comment.

Some of Sayers's ideas became definitional: Here's a question- what's John Watson's middle name? If you said "Hamish," guess what- you should be thanking Dorothy L Sayers. (When this middle name was used for Watson in the BBC Sherlock episode The Sign of Three, articles explaining its use generally didn't bother to credit her, instead saying that "some believe" or a variation on that.) She was the one who speculated that the reason why a) Watson's middle initial is H and b) Mary Morstan Watson calls Watson "James" instead of "John" in one story is because Watson's middle name is Hamish, a Scottish variant of James, with Mary's use of James being an intimate pet name based on this nickname. It's as credible as any other explanation for that question, but more than that it became by far the most popular middle name for Watson used in fan media. Others of Sayers's ideas include that Watson only ever married twice, with his comments about experience with women over four continents being just a lot of bluster and him really being a faithful romantic who married the first woman he really fell for (the aim of this essay being to demolish HW Bell's theory of a marriage to an unknown woman between Mary Morstan and the unnamed woman Watson married in 1903, mentioned by Holmes in The Blanched Soldier); that Holmes attended Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge (she denied that he could have attended Oxford, having gone there herself- fascinatingly, Holmesians who went to Cambridge usually assert that he attended Oxford! Conan Doyle of course attended neither school); and reconciling dates in canon (making the case that one cannot base a claim for Watson's mixing up on dates on poor handwriting as demonstrated in canonical documents, as it is clear from the similarity of different handwriting samples from different people/stories that they were written, presumably transcribed for publication purposes, by a copyist).

She wrote one of the only good Holmes pastiches: Okay, fine, I'm unusually anti-pastiche, and genuinely do like very few of them, but this is one that I love- and even more than that, it's even a Wimsey crossover! On January 8 1954, to commemorate the occasion of Holmes's 100th birthday (because, of course, he was born on January 6 1854- Sayers was more in favor of an 1853 birthdate but thought 1854 was acceptable), the BBC commissioned a bunch of pieces for the radio, including one by Sayers. You can read it here (with thanks to @copperbadge for posting it, it's shockingly hard to find online), and I think you'll agree it's adorable. The idea of Holmes and Wimsey living in the same world is wonderful, the way she makes it work is impeccable, and it's clearly done with so much love. Also you get baby Peter, which is just incredibly sweet!

I got into Dorothy L Sayers, in the long run, because I loved Sherlock Holmes from childhood and that later launched me into early and golden age mysteries- but it was discovering Sayers that brought me back full force into the world of Holmes. Just an awesome lady.

[zeb-z]

Cellbit who holds his shit together, pieces together the clues, and solves the issue while walking on a tightrope, where if he cannot correct for the mistakes made, the fallout would be catastrophic. He cannot fail to solve the case, he cannot fail to cure his friends, it isn’t an option in how desperate the situation has gotten.

He’s relied upon by everyone as the leader of the order, shoulders heavy with the burden. He is intense when he needs to be, gentle when a soft touch is required, and keeps his head when the situation is so intense the others are speechless.

He gets through Forevers stubbornness, reassures Pac in his sorrow and indecisiveness. It’s a fucked up scene and he handles it well because he has no other choice.

He doesn’t cry until it’s all over. Just for a second, when the moment is over, and he can take a breath of air. And even then he leads the rest of them through clean up. He makes sure Pac gets home, gets Forever to a proper place to rest, ensures the rest of the group is okay after what they just witnessed.

Then the moment he leaves the others, he finds another critical clue that he can’t just ignore or put to the back burner.

Another mystery, another crisis, another billion clues he’ll have to organize and follow up on and solve, because he’s the investigation guy, the leader of the order, and the island is counting on him. The kids are counting on him. He doesn’t get a chance to truly breathe. To fully sit down and let himself crumble, let someone, anyone, else be the strong foundation, because if he can’t solve this, who will?

Even with his family returning to him, it’s no wonder he feels so alone. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I guess.

[silkjade]

FAIREST OF THEM ALL

alhaitham x mermaid!reader au ⤀ synopsis: mermaids, and their vanity, and their affinity for pretty things... who better to admire, than the fairest one of all? ⤀ cw: fem!reader, established relationship, mirror sex, fingering, praise, rough + unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, a lil bit of dom!haitham, overstimulation, cervix kisses, squirting, subspace, vry sweet he’s actually so in love — mdni || ꒰ 5.1k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: recommended to read the affiliated series, but it can stand alone as well ! reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

Mermaids and their vanity and their affinity for pretty things…

Where Alhaitham lacks in idle conversations, he makes up for in his acute observation; taking note in particular of the way you glance at your reflection—not only in the mirrors of a merchant’s passing display, but at every turn, and every corner. In the stained glass windows of the Akademiya, in the bronze vessels decorating Lambad’s second floor…even now, on your excursion through the Grand Bazaar, he catches the quick flit of your head as you peer at yourself in the fountain beneath Zubayr Theater. 

Not that he’d ever fault a star for its beauty, when even the sweltering Sumeru sun is roped into your orbit—bending to your will as it dazzles behind you, like a halo in your backdrop. Perhaps the world is, but a shell…and a pearl such as yourself—beautiful and rare—ought to shine on a more veracious display. A familiar smirk plays on his lips, painting his handsome face in a devious shade of sly.

It’s clear from just your peripherals that he must be devising something terrible… Yet there’s a dance to your step when you stop him in his path; your hands clasped coyly behind your back, as you dip into his vicinity with your feigned innocence. 

“And just what are you smiling for?” you lilt, shifting your weight forward onto your tiptoes. He leans over to honor what he can only surmise to be a wordless request, but you pull away before his lips ever have the chance to meet yours. You gleam in that coquettish smile of yours—one that sits so perfectly atop your playful flirtations. “Thinking about me?” 

Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyes…all in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shameless—any of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to you… 

So he cuts you off while he’s still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the waters’ surface once again.

“Just thinking about how pretty you are...” 

And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows you’d keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness. 

Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, it’s resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truth—the one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one you’re clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. It’s a shame, really. For although he’s never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the world’s truths, then he’d gladly partake down this endless road—as a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all? 

Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe. 

“I know how you love to admire your own reflection…” His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. “So don’t you want to see how pretty you look?” 

“No. That’s—” Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. “‘s embarrassing…”

He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But there’s nothing to tempt, when there’s no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out. 

“Haitham…” you breathe, and he knows you’re close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that he’s pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover ‘whyyyy?’, if only for the fact that he’s simply…faster. 

Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head down—away from that safe corner by his neck—so that you’d come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.

“If you look away, I’ll stop.” 

…And so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until they’re well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.

“That’s it,” he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at the…discomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as it’s become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. “Look at you…” 

Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visage…but it’s hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forte—especially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how he’s scissoring you open.

It’s almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.

Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you are—until like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.

“Haitham…” you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stop… 

But it’s tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and out—slowly, steadily—so that you’d see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.

“Please more… ‘m so close…” Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that you’d persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time you’ve spent with your lover in the nation of wisdom, it’s certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.

“As you wish,” he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though it’s hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most. 

Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and it’s gone—as if the plug had just been pulled from your very being—and like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.

A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck.  

“Keep looking,” he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. “I want you to see everything I do to you…”

“Like how pretty you are when I touch you…” He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. “Here,” he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, there’s nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass. 

It's obscene. You’re obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think it’s almost pathetic how far you’ve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, so…distorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display. 

Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shine…everything to flaunt how you need to cum—how you need him and anything he’s willing to give. 

Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your lover’s reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarity—one too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.

Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaitham’s prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation. 

“Do you see how,” Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, “erotic you are…” Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.

You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighs…there’s a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil you’ve chosen to submit to. “So show me what I look like when you fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he chuckles, and there’s a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines. 

A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lap—spread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip. 

Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at you—the real you, in the flesh—before he fucks you into oblivion. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. “‘Ayouni,” he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyes—as precious as the gift of sight.) “Nour ‘ayouni…” His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insides—a resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as you’d take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)

Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his hands—his little mermaid, his little doll—to maneuver and fold as he pleases.

A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. It’s never truly occurred to you how big he really is—at least not until now, when you’re confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on… (it’s no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how he’s always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)

The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, it’s one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behest…? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.

Still, you’ve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, it’s clear that he’s yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptiness—your insides so cravenly wanting what is amiss—because it’s just so inherently wrong that you aren’t full enough, that he isn’t deep enough.

An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. “Want you,” you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. “All of you, all the way…please…?”

“Aren’t you, ngh,” he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. “Aren’t you shameless today?”  

“Don’t care.” Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that he’d finally fill you. “Just n-need you.” In such a deliriated state, it’s difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bones—the resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your being…but it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when you’re asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course he’ll drop you lower onto his shaft.

Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural ‘fuck.’ He’s never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, it’s suffice to say he’s reached... 

“Too..d-deep…” you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness that’s engulfed your thoughts. 

A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hips…and suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)

There’s little time to process any of his wordless cues—especially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. “Like what you see?” he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length. 

All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when you’re so overcome by the feeling of Alhaitham…everywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.

“Show me where you feel me,” he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your hand—no doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legs—but he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin. 

“This…” Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. “... is how far I am inside you…” 

You can’t help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seems…taboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on you—dirty work done by the fog that’s settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition. 

“Don’t believe me?” Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocation—too human to act as if he’d been left unscathed.

For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move… Which he obliges to of course—adjusting ever so slightly, until he’s perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whatever’s left of you, as you’re made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so. 

“Keep singing for me,” he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented  whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. It’s clear his words are largely lost on you—displaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core. 

“My beautiful mermaid,” Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. “My beautiful mermaid…who always…” 

His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your knee—effectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open wider—before a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.“…takes me so well.” 

You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirror’s shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monster—inhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go. 

“Come on, let go…” Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. “I promise you’re just as ravishing when you cum,” he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. “Maybe even more so…”

The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girth—they’re all things you’ve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praise…to hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instincts…

It’s a dangerous combination. It’s too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaks—your muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight. 

“‘m c-cumming…” you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.

The name ‘Haitham’ tangles with your cries, and he loves it—addicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of you—finds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.

He’s close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as you’d allow him to follow. “Just. Like. That.” 

And so, when it breaks, it shatters—like skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destruction—until your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure. 

Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he were…impressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that he’s pleasured you this far beyond belief. It’s surreal—the only word in any of the languages he’s studied (including yours)—that could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow draw…only to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets. 

Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumane…but then again, a mermaid like you isn’t quite human after all.

“Can you, ngh, hold out…a little longer…?” His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)

“‘kay…” The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that you’d do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longer…(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams ‘too much,’ as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)

Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, it’d cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppily—too busy drowning in your deluge to care—while the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum. 

Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you don’t feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts away—replaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more. 

Alhaitham studies the ‘you’ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shoulders—each one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.

‘How…beautiful…’ 

You shake your head in dreamy opposition. “W’nna stay like this…for…a bit longer…” Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.

notes2: mirrors in his kit -> mirror in the bedroom pipeline, am i right (๑>؂•́๑) … i wasn't able to complete this in time for mermay this year, so consider this a little something for kinktober, i suppose ^^;; but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank you so much for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[iamnmbr3]

What's you take on the whole wand situation?

It never ceases to amaze me how well Draco's wand worked for Harry when he had trouble with Hermione's wand and they've known each other for years.

Not only did the wand work, he also defeated Voldemort with each I find so funny for some reason.

And we need to remember that his wand was made of unicorn hair, which makes it extremely loyal to its owner so how the heck did it work well enough to defeat one of the greatest wizards of all time?

J.K.R can claim that Harry disarmed Draco all she wants, I call bullshit. To me it feels they share a deep connection which is why it worked

I KNOW!! It is insane that JKR, Queen of the Anti-Drarry Squad, wrote this in canon. So fitting that she should be cursed to accidentally canonize queer ships she hates lol.

The bit about Hermione's wand is super interesting for several reasons. Harry never wins the wand from her, but because they are very close and compatible and because she loves Harry and wants the wand to work for him, it does. Not perfectly. But way better than the Blackthorn Wand, which he didn't win AND which came from a stranger who had no compatibility with him and felt no allegiance or emotional connection to him. So we see that the compatibility of the wand's owner with someone and, crucially, the emotional bond they have with you, also influences how their wand responds to you.

This has huge implications when it comes to Draco's wand. Draco's wand is made of unicorn hair, which, as you correctly point out is known for its loyalty and affinity for its original master. This is not a fickle wandcore that is easy to just win in a quick duel. Not only that, but hawthorn wands are particularly tricky to master.

Plus, if wands could switch allegiance too easily then it would've come up earlier. If just disarming someone is usually enough to do it then any class where such things are practiced would have huge repercussions. Not to mentions fights between enemies. It would be a huge problem for Death Eaters or Aurors. Snape would've lost mastery pf his wand to the Marauders pretty early on in his school career. (Harry also would've lost mastery of HIS wand to Snape in the end of book 6.) This would make wizards extremely cautious about dueling each other. Thus, the character and desires of the wizards and of the wands and the specific circumstances must play a much bigger role. Some wands must be more loyal than others too. For example I can imagine the Elder Wand being relatively fickle. Or the kind of wand that would choose Peter for example. But a unicorn hair wand?

Furthermore, Harry doesn't even really fight Draco. He pulls the wand right out of Draco's hand. And Draco...lets him. He has fast reflexes. He's a Seeker who is nearly equal to Harry in ability. And we see how quick he is at spells and how well he holds his own against Harry during their duel in book 6. Yes Harry - who is a deadly dueler - beats him in the end, but they go several rounds. Draco, in fact, holds his own against Harry for longer than anyone except for Snape. Much longer than Voldemort ever does for example. So if Draco had wanted to get off a spell to blast Harry away from him when Harry was totally unarmed and literally just trying to pull the wand out of his hand - he could have. But he doesn't. He lets Harry take the wand.

And the wand's loyalty transfers seamlessly to Harry. Not only does it work for him. It works PERFECTLY. It feels "friendly" in his hand. In a way even Hermione's didn't. He is deeply compatible with the wand and the wand obviously is actively friendly to him. This clearly reflects Harry's fundamental core compatibility with Draco (they're soulmates your honor!) and also Draco's true loyalty and affection towards Harry.

The Hawthorn Wand isn't betraying its former master. It's honoring his wishes by protecting the man he loves.

[lennythereviewer]

Theory: Jax is NOT a self-aware NPC nor is he actually trapped in the circus: He's a hacker who can leave at any time.

Even what little we got in terms of Jax content in episode 3 has been reinforcing a belief I've had for awhile, and in fact Jax's brief standout moment in ep 3 added a new wrinkle to my thought: That he's not some NPC who gained sentience and slipped in with the humans, he's actually a hacker who backdoored his way into the Digital Circus, and he's not trapped there.

Jax seems to have an affinity for keys and getting into places he shouldn't belong. Twice now he's done this thing of spinning a key on his finger while boasting about it. He mentions in episode 1 that "I got keys to everywhere" and in episode 2 he swiped the key to the kingdom from Ragatha, and the candy monster calls him a "Master of Unlocking Things" which I think could be genuinely some subtle foreshadowing. A hacker would potentially be able to do something like clip out of bounds, find security keys, crack passwords, and so on and so forth. All he's done with this however is seemingly just pull pranks and leave things in peoples rooms; he's a troll.

We've all speculated about the mysterious pin-back covers: The official pin merch line showing everyone's rooms except for Jaxs, which only shows his door and peeks of The Void tearing through the wall. We're not privvy to what's in Jaxs room if he even has one at all. His room door might actually be his own sort of exit door since he's not trapped. For him it's like loading into a VRChat server and he can log off any time he wants, he's just always sure to be there when everyone else is active so no one notices.

A small stupid thing but, "Jax" is not too far off from "Hax"

Okay, so if Jax is a hacker who can come and go as he pleases, a question is why? Why does he keep coming back to torment everyone around him? His brief gag in Episode 3 I think filled in the blanks for that: He's not just a hacker, he's a streamer and he's broadcasting everything that's happening in the Digital Circus to a watching audience.

He's the one character who has consistently broken the fourth wall in all three episodes so far, the first two episodes were him mugging to the camera and giving comical shrugs and knowing glances to the viewer, but in this episode he outright addresses the audience while seemingly talking to no one to the POV of the other circus members. He's acknowledging his chat. Plus in merch promotion Jax has openly acknowledged his IRL popularity, another form of fourth-wall-breaking.

This may also explain his overall behavior; the reason he's always causing problems on purpose or forcing the group to go on the most dangerous path or take the most 'exciting' option in their adventures: It makes for a good show. Audiences don't want some stupid silly candyland fantasy! They want car chases and explosions! They want to see what wacky things happen to the other circus members! The show must go on! Jax is chasing content, and when he can't get that content it upsets him like the end of Episode 2. Maybe that ties into his self-worth, maybe he needs that sort of validation from his chat and audience.

This angle also adds a bit of a meta angle to the entire series: We the viewer also tune in to watch our favorite circus buddies suffer through whatever zany adventure Caine cooked up. Are we any better than Jax's livestream audience who tune in to see how they're tormented by Caine this week? Heck maybe in-universe we're the audience Jax is playing to! We too want to see them sweat and suffer to get that sweet character growth so are we part of the problem?

Time will tell whether this comes to pass and whether or not I'm overthinking this, but I've had this thought for awhile and only after this episode did the livestreamer angle come to mind.

[tetzoro]

☆ 𓂃 THE EIGHT PHASES OF KINKTOBER !

Another year, another kinktober! Welcome to this years; I’m absolutely over the moon about it hehe ! I hope you enjoy it too ❤︎ 

Please be mindful of the tags on each installment as there are some pieces with dark content and remember that these are all works of fiction.

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ New Moon ! ꒱ ― OCT 3rd. Camboy!Eren.

╰ Camboy!Eren. Eren accidentally stumbled upon his newest side gig, pleasuring himself before thousands of viewers. But honestly, it’s all for his favorite creator — you. WC : 2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Waxing Crescent ! ꒱ ― OCT 8th. Perv!Sanji + Food Play + Praise.

╰ The Love Cook. Sanji has always had an affinity for cooking but nothing could ever compare to cooking for you. But his plan backfires and he realizes he’s in for more than he bargained for. WC : 4.6k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ First Quarter ! ꒱ ― OCT 11th. Zoro + Sword Play.

╰ Sword and Sheath. After another slew at sea, you and Zoro have the ship all to yourselves as the crew restocks up on the island. They say that curiosity kills the cat, but what happens when you've tamed the beast? WC : 5.2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Waxing Gibbous ! ꒱ ― OCT 14th. Implied Yandere! Mihawk + Predator / Prey.

╰ Cat and Mouse. Mihawk has returned from his latest mission but nothing sets his adrenaline off more than chasing you around the Manor. Better start running now. WC : 2.2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Full Moon ! ꒱ ― OCT 17th. Stoner!Ace + Dubcon + Weed Use.

╰ Smokin’ Aces. The ASL brothers know how to throw a good party and tonight was no different. WC : 3.4k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Waning Gibbous ! ꒱ ― OCT 22nd. Tendou + Non Con + Somno.

╰ Peeping Tendou. He’s always been obsessed with you, but now he finally has the chance to show you how good you’d be together. Hopefully you'll wake up soon to realize it. — Fics For Gaza ! WC : 961

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Last Quarter ! ꒱ ― OCT 25th + Ex!Barou + Dacryphilia + Face Fucking.

╰ Big Bad Barou. Running into your ex is never easy, especially at a halloween party with all of your mutual friends. The question is, will you blow off your date in favor for him? . . . Of course you will.

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Waning Crescent ! ꒱ ― OCT 31st. Yakuza Boss! Kuroo + TBD.

╰ Angel. The club had been bought up by none other than Kuroo Tetsuro, the head of the Nekoma Family. As his favorite, you’ve come to expect that whenever he shows up to the club, he’s only there for you.

NOTE : If you’d like to be tagged in any of these, please let me know. You MUST have your age somewhere on your blog to interact. ❤︎

[razrbladekiss]

LOVE BITES | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: its been two years since joel broke your heart, and now you’re thrust into the most awkward situation imaginable. no thanks to tommy, of course.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k, literally pulled this outta my ass in an hour.

WARNINGS: angst. joel is a bit of a jerk and so is tommy but reader can hold her own. 🤭 tiny bit of fluff. plenty of dialogue to scratch the itch inside of my little pea brain!

“What can I getcha?” You call over the music, leaning against tacky wood as you greet yet another inebriated middle aged man. Your tits shine beneath dim light—highlighted with perspiration, liquor and the purple glitter that Cassie thinks’ll get you more tips—and you smile. “Bud Light?”

“Please, doll.”

Your eyes roll. The pet names are one of the worst parts about working at Fuel, but you suppose it’ll never subside. It’s sleazy, here. The place teems with parasitic men—old, sweaty metalheads that’ll never touch a bar of soap even if you bribe them—but they pay your bills with the gratuity they slip into your pocket, so you find it in yourself to tolerate it.

Plus, every so often an attractive stranger comes in and fills your evening with something more interesting than a story that usually starts with “were you even born when this song came out?”

It’s not clear why you’re targeted behind the bar—you’re not the youngest and certainly not the chirpiest—but you surmise that these figments of the male species must have some sort of affinity for being bitched at. Because as soon as someone says something even slightly misogynistic, you’re coming down on them like a wall of fucking bricks.

You’re outspoken. Kind of brash. But it makes for great conversation with some hot guys every so often.

Fuck this shit.

Feigning that internal indignation—and yearning for some kind of drama—you resume your work.

“There ‘ya go, Gil.” You pop off the cap, handing him the bottle and offer a smile. He takes it with a nod, bumbling away from the bar and you turn away to dry some glasses.

It’s busy, but not Saturday night busy. It’s wall-to-wall, but it doesn’t seem as tightly-packed as usual. You’re not rushed off your feet, you’re not being overrun with strange and usual orders from men whose eyes are needing to be held open with toothpicks, or the odd underage girl that managed to slip past Dean while he was checking ID’s.

Something is off.

And it isn’t for the fact that the same three Motörhead songs are playing on a fucking loop, either. Something is looming.

Something a little bit more tense.

“Hey.” Cassie tips her head in a nod toward the crowd while pulling the beer tap. “Look who just walked in.”

You squint your eyes. It’s a struggle to heed any new faces, for the light is so dim and room full of cigarette smoke, but you scan nonetheless.

“I can’t see.” You tell her, taking a few glasses from atop the bar to wash. “Is it that hot guy you always flirt with?”

Her cheeks turn thirteen shades of crimson. She shakes her head.

“No. He’s in Cancun with his wife.”

“Oh.” You say wryly. “So, he’s not interested in you then?”

She blinks in your direction. “We had sex on Thursday.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “Oh.” You repeat your earlier tone. “So, you’re his side piece?”

“Yes. And happily so.” Cassie slips the beer to her patron, and turns to you with an elbow propped against the sticky wood. “But enough about Luke…Can’t you see him? He’s got the denim jacket on—hair a little slicked back.”

Confused, your gaze drifts into the sea of drunks. You’re drawing a blank.

“Oh my GOD.” She grabs a hold of your shoulders, and turns you toward nine o’clock. “Look!”

You follow her line of sight, still blindly searching. Until he comes toward the bar, and you go through all seven stages of fucking grief as he ambles toward you.

He’s got a face like thunder. Eyes dark, nostrils flared.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” The unyielding grip set against your shoulders is released, though Cassie stays close by. For back-up—and slightly inquisitive—purposes.

Tommy. Fucking. Miller.

You haven’t seen him since the night that Joel broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to surmise that the underlying hostility has died off in the two years that your eyes last met. He was a prick to you, that night.

But you’re not scared of him. Never have been. He’s a pussycat.

Aside from that night, the most confrontation between the two of you came on a very warm summers evening, when Tommy was barbecuing and you told him that his burgers needed a little longer when he tried serving them. He pitched a fit, threw the spatula in the air, and left Joel to take over.

He never could take criticism.

“Get out.” You tell him, hand firmly gripped against the Guinness tap. “I mean it, Miller. Get out.”

He ignores you, taking a seat at the bar and your jaw rolls.

“Fine.” You fake a smile, wanting nothing more than to throw a whiskey sour in his face. “What d’ya want, Tommy? Jack ‘n coke? Bud? A slap—“

“I dunno. But now that I’ve seen you, I want you to call my brother.”

Cassie takes a step back when you nudge her, needing to go through this alone.

“Phone works both ways.” Blunt, you say. You pour him whiskey—neat—despite him not elucidating exactly what he wants. “He’s a jackass, Tommy. I ain’t got time for jackasses no more.”

He rubs his lips together after taking a pull, putting firmly the glass against the bar.

“You left him—“

“Wrong. He broke up with me.”

“You left him.” Tommy repeats himself. He’s getting agitated, now. “He didn’t really want you to go. He didn’t mean to say all that he said—“

You scoff, throwing a dish rag over your shoulder.

“Well, he said it. He kicked me out.” You start, ready to reel off all the bad things Joel did to you. “He blocked my number, told everyone that I left ‘cus I was never happy with anything—“

“He loved you, and you were just a spiteful bitch.” Tommy defends, slightly more brash than what he once was.

“Wow. You’ve grown a pair of balls since I last saw you.”

“Oh, fuck it off with the mean shit.” He growls, staring pointedly at you. “You’re not like this, so stop pretending.”

You put a few glasses away beneath the bar, and stick clean scoops into the ice cube tray.

“I was crazy about him, he didn’t need to give me anything more than what he already did, Tommy.” With a small voice, you tell him. “We all know that.”

Tommy runs a hand over the back of his neck. But you’re not willing to argue the case any further—not with a man who downs his liquor in one single shot.

“So, is this why you’re here, huh? To spend the entire night chewin’ me out? ‘Cus if you are, then you can fuck off. I get enough shit from the assholes that come here every night.”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t on my agenda. Didn’t know that ‘ya worked here, so I guess its been a lovely experience for the two ‘a us, ‘ay?”

Your eyes roll. You pop the cap off another beer for Gil as he stumbles toward you, handing it to him while taking his cash at the same time.

“And why are you here? ‘Cus I didn’t peg you down to be the heavy metal type. That was always reserved for—“

Your face falls. This time, your heart actually starts to pound within the constraints of its ribcage, and you feel nauseous. You’re lucky that no glass is held tightly beneath deft fingertips, or else you’d be having to sweep the shards of it off of the floor.

“Joel.” You murmur as he pads over to Tommy.

He leans against the bar, looking at his brother. He mumbles something about this place being a dive, how loud it is, and that he needs to be getting back ‘cus Sarah’ll be gettin’ worried if I’m not home before midnight.

You’re blinking at him, but he doesn’t notice you’re standing right there. Not until he pins a cigarette between his lips and fishes about his pocket for a light, but comes up empty.

Joel turns around, patting his shirt and jeans pockets, before his eyes flick upward and mouth gapes open. The cigarette is stuck to his bottom lip by the slick of his saliva, and a sheer stroke of luck.

He yanks the stick from his mouth, before he’s pointing at Tommy with it.

It’s almost comical that Love Bites is playing from the jukebox. Though, it makes a fucking change from Whiskey In The Jar.

“This why you fuckin’ brought me here?!” He barks, and you’re glad that it’s so loud in there or else he’d be causing a scene.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “I didn’t know she worked here!”

“He didn’t.” You cut in, earning a glare from the man whose heart once lived in your pocket. “What? Do you really think he’d put you—us—in this position willingly?”

Joel looks between the two of you, easing the accusatory gesture. He slips the cigarette between his lips again, and you—begrudgingly—hurl a lighter toward him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. He just takes it and sparks the cigarette, cupping the cherry as the light takes.

“You’re welcome.” You snark. Joel slides it over to you without even so much as looking upward. “You’re used to that, ain’t ‘ya? Taking things from me when you’ve got no business to?”

He says your name warning, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes are dark. A lot more dismal, than usual. Saddened, maybe.

And his face is gaunt. Still as handsome as ever, but complexion slightly sallow. Though, you just put that down to the fact that winter doesn’t offer too much sun for him to tan, in Jackson.

“I didn’t do shit to you.” Joel upholds, flicking cigarette ash into the ceramic dish atop the bar. You tense up at his tone. “You wanted more than what I could’ve given you, so we both knew it wasn’t gonna work—“

“I loved you, Joel!” You bark across the bar, leaning over a little. He drops a glance to your tits—exposed and glittering—and swallows thickly the lump in the back of his throat. “I wanted to be with you—get married, start a family—was that such a bad fuckin’ thing?!”

“Y’knew I didn’t want that.”

You blink back the tears that are desperate to push over your waterline, and nod. “But if you communicated that to me earlier on in the relationship, then maybe I would’ve shunned those ideas.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, hating the prickly tension. Because—two and a half years ago—you two were the strongest couple he ever knew. Regardless of the age gap, you were obsessed with one another.

But now you’re strangers, standing at opposite sides of the bar.

“Take a break, hon.” Cassie tells you from a distance and you’re peeling off the waist apron faster than you can even acknowledge what she’s saying.

Marlboro reds are being yanked from the ass pocket of your jeans, and the lighter that you had let Joel borrow is snared firmly within the palm of your left hand.

You storm to the front of the bar—ignoring the friendly crowd of regulars, friends, and new-faces—all the while devoured by this overwrought tension that’s bubbling up from the deepest caverns inside of you.

Joel follows you, reaching for your wrist but you shirk the feeling because it’s turning you sick. Just the sheer feeling of his skin—calloused and rough—ghosting over yours is enough to churn your stomach and force those ill feelings to flood back into your system.

You step outside, the din of much-to-loud music now muffled by the steel doors—only clear when someone walks in or out of the bar—and let your back hit against the brick wall with a dramatic thud.

“Sorry.” Joel says, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“For what, exactly? Dumping me? Making me look like the bad guy, just ‘cus I wanted something?”

He runs a hand over his face, before he’s shifting forward to let a drunken—completely in love—couple pass by the two of you. He joins you up against the wall, his right boot colliding with it.

“I didn’t make you look like the bad guy—“

“Bullshit.” You say. “I see Sarah about town sometimes—she doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore, Joel. I spent five years of my life playing mommy to that little girl, and now I’m like a stranger to her?”

He hates how you’re throwing this back into his face, but he supposes that he deserves it. However, he will not give in to you that easy.

“You never played mommy. She always called you by your first name.” Like he knows it’ll hurt you, he says. “You were just a glorified babysitter, to her—“

“Oh, get fucked!” You bark, teeth clamped together. “You can’t say this shit when you don’t mean it, Joel! You know that she loved me!”

Your words materialize into the saddest tone he’s ever heard from you, and he’s suddenly feeling awful for even musing such a thing. He’s never this mean.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. You’re right, that was an awful thing to say.” Regret depletes him. But it’s too late. Tears are flowing from your beautiful eyes, like a dam that’s burst its way over the river banks, and Joel hates himself for doing this to you. Again.

When he broke things off—and ruined your life—he thought it would be easier to build a wall around himself, and lie to people about the nature of your departure. He told everybody that you left on your own terms, that you wanted things that Joel could never give to you—though, if he had just kept an open mind, then maybe he could’ve.

Because for months after you left his home, he found himself glued to his cellphone, desperate to call or text you to tell you how sorry he was for doing what he did.

That he was too hasty—too fucking mean—to say that he didn’t want a life with you. Because he did.

But it’s too late.

“Piper missed you, Joel.” You wipe away fat tears with the palm of your hand—knowing your mascara has smudged but not being able to find it in yourself to care—and tell him about the dog that the two of you once cared for together. “She sat by the door every morning waiting for you.”

This is killing him. Having you in front of him, but knowing that things will never be the same again.

“She’s four, now.” You smile a little bit. “She didn’t grow any bigger than what a German Shepherd should’ve, but she acts like it. Thinks she’s a fuckin’ rhino, or somethin’.”

Joel chuckles, feeling his own sadness loom in his tear ducts.

“She loves babies.” That maims you, a bit. “Cassie’s sister had a little boy in February. Piper sits by the crib whenever we visit. She would’ve loved being a sister.”

“I bet. She was always such a protective dog.” He stubs out his cigarette, though makes no effort to go back inside. “Especially when it came to you.”

“I’m her mom.” You tell him, blankly. “I feed her. I take her on walks. I groom her. I’m the only person that’s remained a constant in her life since she was eight-weeks old—“

“And I’m sorry for that.” A little stern—not enjoying being discreetly chastised—he says. “But we were never going to work—“

“And you thought that you’d tell me that after five fucking years?” You flick your own roach to the ground now, letting your back peel away from the wall. “Joel, I wasted half a decade with a man who couldn’t see us going anywhere, and you just expected me to be fine with that?”

“You didn’t waste your fucking time with me.”

“I could’ve had a family, by now!” You yell, your cheeks damp once again. Eyes stinging. “Joel, I could be somebody’s mother. Somebody’s wife.”

He feels awful that he’s taken that from you, but surmises that it isn’t too late.

“I know that you did it all before you met me—I know that was something that I was signing up for when I started dating an older man,” you take a breath, “but I thought that you might’ve changed your mind. Because I thought that you loved me—“

Joel grabs firmly your hands and shakes them, getting you to look at him. His eyes plead with yours.

“I did love you.” He breathes deep. “I think there’s a part of me that still loves you. But I couldn’t give you what it was that you wanted—“

You yanked your hands from his grip—for the second time this evening, actually.

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t, Joel? Because to me, it seems like you were scared of committing to me for fear of something bad happening.”

“Don’t—“

“Not everyone leaves, Joel.” Softly, you tell him. “I was never planning on walking outta your life, so I don’t know why you were so scared to commit to me.”

Because I’m fucking insecure?

You look down at your watch, realizing that you’ve been out here far, far too long.

“Look.” You make eye contact with him. You miss the way he so boldly meets your gaze whenever you speak. “I’m sorry that you thought I was too high maintenance—that you’d never be able to keep me satisfied—but I was. There was never a doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have had the best life with you, Miller.”

“But you wanted kids—“

“And I had Sarah. Of course, I wanted to mother my own children, Joel, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It just hurt to know that you didn’t want to give me that, when I was always so willing to do it for you.”

His eyes close slowly, realizing how much of a fucking prick he’s been these last twenty-four months.

“I’m sorry—“

“I need to get back in there.” You say with a small nod, gripping firmly the heavy-set door to the club before you’re stepping inside and leaving Joel completely dumbfounded.

I need to make this right.

It’s twelve forty-three in the morning when you finally amble up your driveway, and you’ve actually never been this happy to see your house before.

The kitchen light dim—though still bright enough to see Piper’s silhouette by the door—fills your heart with an immediate sense of comfort after such a long fucking day.

Carefully guiding yourself up the wooden steps so that you don’t fall, you edge nearer to your front door. But not before your boot is colliding with a little bag perched on the top step.

There’s a tag—your name inscribed—and you feel your face fall. Do you have a stalker?

But any premonition is squashed when you take the bag inside—wary, of course—and open it up. Piper is running laps around you all the while your hands fish around the pink cardboard.

“Oh?” You take out an envelope, and your heart sinks.

It starts with your name, and a little wonky heart next to it. Not to mention, it’s written with a pink gel-pen.

I’m sorry for being a jerk, I’d understand if you hate me. Today was fucking horrible, and I’m a douchebag. Not just for today, but for this whole thing. I’m sorry for making everybody think that you’re a bitch, and I wish that I would’ve told you sooner that I didn’t want children, or to get married again. Now that I’m thinking about it, it doesn’t seem all that bad. I’m also sorry that Tommy was a dick, he said he texted you but it bounced back—must’ve blocked his number. But honestly I don’t blame you. We’re assholes and you never deserved us in your life baby.

Take this card as an apology, if you want to. But take those candies and the dog treats, and have a nice evening with our little girl. I’ve unblocked your number and put my own inside of this envelope, so I hope that you’ll call me and we can make things right again.

Love always, Joel.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, and pull out the dog treats alongside the nerds gummy clusters, and smile. He knows you both so well.

“Here, Piper girl.” She comes barreling over to you, almost sweeping your knees from beneath you. “Look’it what your daddy bought for you.”

Her ears prick up at the mention of Joel, and it’s at this moment that you realize you’ll be seeing him again a lot sooner than what you originally thought.

[cheezritsu]

Blue Lock Boys in: What Natural Hairstyles do they like?

These are my personal thoughts on what hairstyles blue lock boys like on black women, you can either discuss civilly or argue with the wall if you're going to be mean. Examples/ links to each style is included!!

Isagi Yoichi: he likes twist outs! Really, he just likes big fluffy hair and twists outs, wand curls and blowouts reallllly are his fave. He likes the way it crowns your face, how it gives you a bunch of hair to work with and shape. Putting in a little headband? Nice. Side part with a pretty clip? Wow!! You look like an actress!! Half up half down?? You’re literally ethereal!! he likes to lay on it too; that’s definitely his favorite part. It’s soft to lay his head on while you’re sitting together on the train, or set his chin on when he’s just waiting in line. He thinks you’re a little angel with your hair like a cloud. x x

Mikage Reo: wigs, which feels wrong? lol you joke that he must hate your hair because he’s always buying you wigs and paying for installs but in all honesty he loves that you can be a whole new person. Keeps him on his toes. Has an affinity for longer hair, but likes different colors, kinda close in tone to his (what a surprise.) You could show up to his match in oversize sunglasses and a new wig and he’ll be like actually where the hell in my girlfriend. And when he finally sees you he’s like “hmmm idk I have a realllly fine woman waiting for me at home :/" “am I prettier than her?” “Nah, you just have different hair”

Nagi Seishiro: box braids. It’s boring but it was the first protective style he ever saw you wear and it blew him away. like you just suddenly had these long braids he could play with. He’s so weird, he like takes the end and runs it over his cheek and he’s like “feels good. Like a tiny paint brush. It’s soothing.” Like whatever baby genius! he also likes all the hairstyles you can pull off: his fave is the half up in space buns look cause it looks very much like a magical girl transformation. x x

Itoshi Sae: wildly enough, sae likes just the natural curls and coils. He’d like a twist out or a braid out too; anything that makes spirals. Lots of people in Spain had curly or textured hair and it really was the first time he experienced textured hair. It’s so pretty. It takes up space and it’s unapologetic and it really just enhances a woman’s natural beauty. Yeah. God forbid you have a curly up-do or a slick back with your curls out around itoshi sae. He’ll go insane. x x

Shidou Ryusei: Detailed cornrows/ Fulani braids. Can you get a shape in there? Can you get beads? curly strands? The more intricate the better. He likes when it makes sound or fucking defies gravity. He’s legit jealous. LOVES baby hairs too. He tried to cut baby hairs so you could do his edges like whoa ‼️lets calm down!! When he’s being a brat he’ll make you lay your head on his chest and trace your parts like a freak. It’s like a map to him? Like those maze games. He also will give you a scalp massage or oil your scalp down. Plus he loves if you use an actual durag to keep it in check. Calls you a g and chest bumps you. He’s so fucking stupid lol x x

Bachira Meguru: also loves hair in its natural coils, kinks, and curls. He thinks it’s so cool looking. He sees it as an extension of you and he loves that you can twist it and shape it all different types of ways! Will ask you if he can do your hair (do not let him!! at least, please help in out lol.) He loves adding accessories like barrettes, bows, clips etc. He’ll def try to match hair styles with you, like space buns, claw clips, little butterfly clips etc. Will also match said hairstyle. x x

Itoshi Rin: French curl braids. Although I'm a very big believer that Rin Itoshi loves alt hairstyles, this feels right too. They’re pretty and he thinks of them as refined. He loves walking around with you when you have French curl braids. You also buy into the stereotypes of French curl braids and dress and do your makeup accordingly. Rin thinks it’s funny to point of but also loves having you on his arm in public. Like ah yes, I’m Rin Itoshi I’m the best spiker in the world and my girlfriend is the prettiest fucking princess ever. Be warned though, he pulls hair. x x

Hyoma Chigiri: hear him out: y'all have the best hair together when you get a silk press. The INCHES. The silkiness. He thinks it makes your face the center of attention and frames it sleekly. Plus, y'all can do matching styles! He always tries out his signature half braided hairstyle on you and loves when you wear it to matches. He also likes when y'all just brush each others hair. Whatever your maintenance routine for your hair is, chigiri learns it so when you’re extra tired he’ll do it for you. (In return you gotta learn his. It’s the rule.) x x

Tabito Karasu: faux locs. Ohhh girl don’t have faux locs and be thirty feet NEAR this mf. He pisses me off. He thinks the extra long ones are so fucking dope. He likes the styles too, like the giant bun or the half up half down. He just loves how it looks too, like you’re so cool. He likes butterfly locs too btw, thinks you look like a fairy. x x

Eita Otoya: goddess braids. It’s peak baddie hair. He pays for it. Mans has barely ever let you pick another hairstyle. He tells people all types of extravagant lies about you when you get your hair done. It’s stupid. He also will post you on his insta??? his story at least. Damn, he really fuckin launched you cause of some goddess braids. Menacing. x x

Micheal Kaiser: French curl braids. And he’s annoying about it. What else do you need to know? (alright, alright. Kaiser has a lot of romantic imagery around him and he’d love someone with a romantic hairstyle. You’re soooo princess. Adorn yourself with bows and he’ll be at your beck and call. He loves if you’re ultra feminine with it, like pearl headbands and lacy bows and frilly hats. He spams his insta with you, showing off your beauty.) x x

Oliver Aiku: locs. Aiku loves him some originality, and he loves a bitch with locs. Bonus points if they’re dyed a color that’s oh so perfect for you. The styles are always top tier and always in awe of how it can be switched up. He’s seen people do really cool things with their locs, and he’d love to kinda see what it’s like to maintain them. When he realized it wasnt as effortless as he imagined he starts asking a million and ten question it feels like an interview. He’s just excited. He feels smug having you in his arm cause you’re gorgeous, you’re 1 of 1 and he has massive respect for you? He wins. x x

Sendou Shuto: wand curls: blowouts. He likes the big fluffy curls, kinda like these. He wants a Hollywood actress and that floaty hair of yours reminds him of old school glamour. And if you added a pearly headband or a ribbon or a headband? UGH. With a red lip? GAHH!! he’s head over heels. x

Barou Shohei: Fulani braids. Bruh. The designs?? Barou loves that shit. Listen, he’s the king so obviously you’re his queen, and you’ve gotta have the coolest, flashiest hair so ppl know their place if you’re around. Design? yes. Beads? YES!! And if you get anything remotely similar to the design in his hair he’s going to drop to one knee. For fucking real. x x x

[danieyells]

@2flowerz also asked for Lyca so

NOW WITH 100% MORE DOGGO LYCA. HE IS DEFINITELY A HUMAN AND NOT A WEREWOLF. He is trying very hard to be a human. I love him very much. . . .

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"...You again. Where're we going today?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, you got letters. Don't you have to read them? Oh, don't you know how?"

he understands if you can't read, man. neither can he.

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"You smell sweeter than usual today... Stop. Go away."

after learning that the pc is going to turn into the anomaly that cursed them any sort of 'you smell nicer than normal' feels like such a threat lmao

"You want to touch me? Fine. Ten seconds and that's it."

that is more than enough my good sir

"When I find Neros, I wanna prove I've been getting along with humans. Then he'll definitely let me live with him."

considering he related the term 'neglect play' to what Neros did to him. . .I'm not so sure. . .and if Neros was as old as he sounds like he was, I wonder if he's even still alive. . . .

"Hey! Moth-eaten Casanova! Where'd you go? I'm gonna show you my special move today."

"special move" in Japanese is 「必殺技」 or 'lethal move'/'killer technique', usually unique to a person or fighting style. Not sure if he wants to show Ed how cool he is or try and kill him lmao--

"This phone thingy they gave me keeps making noises and making me jump... Why do I gotta carry it everywhere? It's scary!"

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Mnn... Let me sleep... Don't touch me... Zzz..."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Laws, school regulations, anomalous law... Manners, morals, rules... How're you s'posed to remember all that?"

man i wish i could tell you. . .i've mostly got the morals in order, that's basically just 'don't do harm to others' when you get down to it. laws are about 50% 'don't do things that may endanger you or others' and 50% bullshit. the rest you're kinda on your own with.

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Urgh... My skin's crawling... Moon must be gettin' round soon..."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"At first I was sad 'cause I got put in a different house to Suba, but all kinds of stuff happens here every day so it was fine."

awww he was sad because he doesn't get to see Subaru as often but he's not bored so it's alright! glad he's comfortable ;u;

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"H-Hey, don't come so close! Somethin' about your scent makes my stomach feel weird!"

WE'RE ONLY ON AFFINITY 5 DUDE YOU CAN'T BE CATCHING FEELINGS THIS EARLY it's probably because he's scared of girls or something lol

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I didn't do anything wrong! Those guys were saying mean stuff about me 'cause they thought I couldn't hear. All I did was yell at them."

I hate how they won't even let Lyca defend himself verbally. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I don't mind classes. The teachers say cool stuff. Once I learn to read the textbooks and the notes and the blackboard it'll be perfect."

HE'S GONNA BE SUCH A GOOD STUDENT WHEN HE CAN READ???

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"There was this big noise in our practical class and my ears popped out. Everyone ran away screaming. Damn it..."

wow they're cowards if the ears alone scared them. . .how're they supposed to deal with anomalies if that scared them!?

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This? It's a picture book, duh. How come you don't know that when you're a human? I study with it before bed, everyone does it."

I wonder who made him a picture book of all the things he'd be learning as a first year to study with. . . . . .or maybe it's just a generic picture book lol

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"This blanket's not trash, it's just dirty. I can't sleep without it, so hands off."

he really loves that blanket huh. it must be one of the only things he had from his childhood or from being looked after by neros. . . .

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"What's a "so-shul skill"?  That blond gigolo was talking about them. He said I don't have any. Is that a good thing?"

he's got social skills!! Just. . .not very human social skills!!!

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm starving... I wanna eat Sho's food, but I can't order it without Suba... Wait, you can read, right?"

Lyca slowly realizing how many people he knows can actually read and thus can help him with placing orders for delicious foods--

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"That moth-eaten Casanova's in his room all day so I tried to take him for a walk, but he locked his door and ignored me. The hell?!"

LYCA CONTINUES TO SCRATCH AT ED'S DOOR COME FOR WALKIES ED!!!!

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"That stupid blond gigolo ran off with my blanket. I'm not done sleeping yet..."

tbf your blanket is filthy. . .and I get it, it's what you've got and it smells familiar but. . . .

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"I can't get back to sleep... I'm gonna wake up that moth-eaten Casanova for a walk."

lyca is a dog scratching at your bedroom door with his leash in his mouth like 'yes it is time for walkies now rise human'

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"The teacher asked us to name an anomalous plant you can eat but when I did he said humans can't eat it. So what? I can, so I'm not wrong."

I AGREE WITH HIM HE SHOULD NOT GET THAT MARKED WRONG. if you only want a human applicable question say 'humans' not 'you.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"In the last place I never knew what time it was and I pretty much just slept all day. Now I gotta get used to having a "roo-teen.""

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I'm drawing. If I draw all the good stuff and bad stuff that happened every day I won't forget about it."

if he could write he'd keep a diary but since he can't write he's keeping a picture diary. . .and he's a really good artist according to his character story, so it's probably a pretty faithful recreation of whatever happened that day. i'd love to see his picture diary. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Huh? The blood on my bed? ...It's nothing. Don't touch my stuff, you're gonna get your smell all over it!"

WHY IS THERE BLOOD IN YOUR BED, BUDDY. ARE YOU OKAY??? IF YOU ATE SOMETHING IN BED THAT'S FINE I JUST DON'T WANT YOU TO BE INJURED. . . .

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"...Did you cry? Your scent is all squeezy. How come?"

smelling you sad makes him sad too so tell him why you're feeling sad and he can make the sad go away?

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I wanna go to the cafeteria, but the teachers won't give me my pocket money. They said I'll get "spoiled." The hell does that mean?!"

GIVE HIM SOME MONEY SO HE CAN BUY FOOD???? HE NEEDS TO EAT????? HE'S BUSY WITH CLASS SO HE CAN'T GO ON MISSIONS YOU CAN'T JUST STARVE THE BOY????

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"That moth-eaten Casanova told me humans like it if you ignore them sometimes. Something about playing hard to get? I'm gonna try it tomorrow."

I wonder if that has anything to do with Subaru's home screen chat where he wonders why Lyca hasn't messaged him back. . .he's trying to play hard to get because he thinks it'll make Subaru like him more. . . .

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I'll stay here and be quiet at night, even when the moon's not round. 'Cause you're tired, aren't you? Go sleep."

even if he doesn't have to stay or even if he wants to make lots of noise, he'll stay and be quiet so it's easier for you to fall asleep. He won't be loud and you don't have to worry about him! so sleep tight!

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Sleep here. Huh? Is there a law that says we can't sleep together? There's not, is there? Hurry up and lie down."

it's pretty much innocent. . .he just wants you close by. . .being able to smell you while he sleeps would probably make it easier to fall asleep. . .feel safe and familiar and everything. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I'm gonna work hard... I'll gonna work so hard, they're gonna say I can live with humans forever..."

Lyca, despite being a werewolf, is a lot like Kaito in that he just wants to be a normal human. Except he never started as a normal human, so he has a bit further of a distance to go to become one. . .he's not a dog, he doesn't wanna be a pet or an animal or anything like that. He wants to be a person like everyone else. But it's hard when others reject him, and when everyone says they think he's too dangerous even when he hasn't done anything wrong. Other ghouls--other humans--do way worse stuff than he does, and yet he's still held to a higher standard. It's not fair. But he's working as hard as he can to catch up. . . .

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"That blond gigolo tried to wash my blanket! He's never coming in my room again!"

he does not like spring cleaning--

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Lately there's flower smells everywhere, but sometimes there's one that kinda smells like you."

IT'S GONNA BE HILARIOUS IF THE ANOMALY THAT CURSED YOU HAPPENS TO LIVE IN OBSCUARY'S FOREST. . .LIKE YEAH IT'S JUST OUT THERE IT WAS ALWAYS ON CAMPUS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU WE COULD'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS CURE BEFORE YOU GOT IT.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Harurin kept nagging, so I went to the safari park. Not gonna lie...it was super fun."

I love that Lyca uses the nicknames Rui uses for some people lol and I bet he loved running around Jabberwock!!! All that fresh open air and the wildlife. . .he's a wolf at heart really and truly.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Cherry blossom petals are super fun. They're like, whoosh, then they fall everywhere. I wish our house had some."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Urgh... My head...it hurts... This? It's shaved ice. The blond gigolo told me to eat it so I don't get "heat eggs-aw-schun.""

oh buddy you're eating it too fast. . . . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I was just in that moth-eaten Casanova's room and it was so cold I thought it was gonna snow! Is he secretly a yeti?"

okay it was only 63 degrees in there it wasn't THAT cold Lyca.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm gonna go practice swimming at Harurin's place. Can you do other stuff besides doggy paddle?"

I can't swim at all so. you are miles ahead of me my friend.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I know I said I always wanted to do sparklers, but... you sure this's okay? I thought we're not s'posed to play with fire!"

canid instincts are kicking in--fire BAD and SCARY and DANGEROUS. ABORT MISSION.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"I just tried to join in with some guys playing with a ball, but they said I don't know the rules and told me to go away."

THEN TEACH HIM THE RULES god they're such jerks around here.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Blond Gigolo was makin' this massive fire near the garden just now. It smelled all burnt and sweet... Is that some kinda ritual?"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Finished my picture. That Romi guy who comes to the bar all the time said he wanted one, so it's for him."

Romeo does like fine things. This just goes to show how good of an artist Lyca is! I bet Romeo's gonna frame it and put it somewhere people can see lol or maybe just keep it in his room. . .that or he wants to see if he can get him to make a forgery and profit off poor Lyca--

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Moth-eaten Casanova said humans like looking at the moon... D'you get sad if you can't see it?"

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I'm gonna go play at that big ice castle after class! Huh? 'Cause playing in the snow's fun."

THE FROSTHEIMERS BETTER NOT GIVE HIM TROUBLE LET MY BOY RUN AND ROMP IN THE SNOW!!!!!!!

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Mm, I don't really feel the cold. Humans get warm when they run around too, don't they? Race you over there! "

he is having so much fun in the winter ;;;;; just running around and playing. . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"My fingers have been gettin' all tingly and stiff and my hair's all crunchy! What's up with that? "

maybe playing in the snow a little too much lol--

(between 8pm and 5am)

"How d'you drink hot drinks so quick? They always burn my tongue... Huh? Dogs have sensitive tongues? I'm a wolf, not a dog..."

His birthday: (April 19th)

"Oh right, it's my birthday. Neros told me my mom wrote down the date."

Your birthday:

"It's your birthday, right? No, I only know 'cause that blond gigolo was yelling about it. ...Here's your present."

I bet he drew something really nice or found you something really cool ;3;

New Years: (January 1st)

"Hope you have a happy and prop...props... prosp...prospinous? new year... Damn it, I practiced that for ages..."

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Oh, thanks. Professor Nicolas said I can't eat chocolate, so I'll give it to Casanova and Gigolo!"

why would you even risk giving him chocolate in the first place lmao. . .also in Japanese he says "I'll share with those two idiots" instead of "casanova and gigolo" lmao

White Day: (March 14th)

"This is for you. I dunno what kinda stuff human girls like, but Suba helped me pick it, so it's prob'ly fine."

Subaru knows girls' tastes is Lyca's logic I guess lmao Subaru is a lil on the femme side comparatively--

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Why's everyone being so mean today?! Telling lies and laughing at me... They're all jerks...!"

please explain the day to him. . .people are mean enough to him as it is. . . .

Halloween: (October 31st)

"My ears and tail are out? I know, I'm doing it on purpose. The moth-eaten Casanova said it's okay today."

THE ONE DAY HE CAN BE HIMSELF IS HALLOWEEN BECAUSE NO ONE WILL THINK ANYTHING OF IT. . .they'll just think it's a cool costume or maybe a fox robe! And he'll get candy for it!!!

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Hey, look! When I got up this present was next to my pillow! Santa really came..."

WHO TAUGHT HIM ABOUT SANTA. . .AND WHY. . .then again Romeo said Santa's reindeer is real so. . .it probably isn't actually harmful to teach him about Santa since Santa's probably somewhat real here. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"...I'm going for a walk."

(13 affinity and above)

"Hey, you alive? Huh, you're breathing so I guess so."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"How come you stopped coming? Do you hate me? It made my heart all squeezy, so don't do it again."

oh no sweetie. . .sometimes we just have to take care of things and disappear without wanting to. . .sometimes life gets in the way instead of finding away. . . . . . . .

JUST. . .SWEETEST OF SWEETHEARTS. HE'S SO CHILDISH AND ADORABLE AND SWEET AND GOOD. . .I WILL USE MY TEN SECONDS OF PETTING TIME WISELY. He really does try harder than anyone, he's so determined and I believe in him so much. I want my boy to be happy.

[racheyace]

When Your Wings Are Tired - Chapter One

So I started a thing! I've fleshed out the idea for this story and summarized most chapters, but I will really be writing them and publishing them when I can so please bare with me.

It's a little different to what I've previously written but the idea has been in my head for about a year and with the reminder of Disney's Dinosaur and found family gt I just knew it was time to post this!

TW: Abandoned child

Chapter One

“We can’t just leave him, he’ll die.” Thazelle urged her husband as they both watched the small human child cry from their perch atop a high branch.

They’d been scouting the area like many other Fae, a human war had broken out months ago and the war had been getting closer and closer to their Fae city of Donterra. They needed to stay vigilant but were also determined to stay out of human affairs, if humans chose to war with each other, so be it, it just wasn’t the way of the Fae.

“We musn’t meddle with human affairs Thaz, you know the rules. I’m certain the child’s parents will come back for him.” Bracken reasoned, though made no show of moving from his place on the branch, eyes firmly on the human child.

“We will wait for them to return.” He continued firmly, decision made.

“And if they don’t come back for him?” Thazelle raised her slender auburn eyebrows at him.

She knew her husband well, they had their own youngling back at home, now parents, they could not turn their back on another child, even one that was not their own.

She had a good idea about how this would play out, she knew that in the end Bracken would not abandon the innocent child who knew nothing of human destruction and was not to blame for his parents mistakes.

Bracken said nothing, instead keeping a hand on the hilt of the sword that rested on his hip and watchful eyes waiting for any sign of human interference.

The hours dragged on and Thazelle could no longer tolerate just standing there and listening to the child’s echoing wailing that was starting to pierce through her skull. She flew off before Bracken could stop her and using her affinity with the High Fae of water, Whista, she pulled water from a nearby stream and brought it over to the human youngling.

“What are you doing?” Bracken hissed now becoming stiff and alert.

“The poor thing is thirsty.” She said before shushing the human child who must have only been seven or eight months old.

Though even being the smallest human she had ever seen, he was still far larger than herself, her own body only the same length as the child’s chubby face. To the babe she must have appeared to be the size of a doll. And as she approached, the child grew quiet, his icy blue eyes following her movement with wonder, her soft blue glow reflected in his irises.

As gently as a mother, she hovered before his face, placing a soothing hand on his supple cheek before guiding the water toward his mouth, he sipped on it greedily and when the water had gone he smacked his lips together.

When Thazelle did not respond immediately to this strange behaviour however, the human baby then began to cry anew, alarming her and causing her to drift upwards and shield her poor ears.

Bracken had now joined her and hugged her to his chest.

“He want’s more, Finn used to do that when he was hungry, remember?” He explained gently.

Sure enough when she came back with more water, the child grew silent again and sipped on the water as it was guided into his mouth. This time when the water was gone the child did not cry but instead his eyes grew droopy, no doubt exhausted from crying.

Thazelle landed in the tall grass beside the child’s head, feeling no danger at being so near to him, instead her hands kneaded gentle circles into the side of his face in comfort. Her gold eyes met her husbands stormy ones and she sighed heavily as her heart broke for the human child, left alone in the cold, left to die.

“We must take him back with us.” She said quietly, not wanting to wake the tired child.

“I do not think the High Fae will approve.” He stood beside her, arms folded over his chest as he usually did when faced with a complex decision he would need to make.

“He’s not a danger to anyone right now, there is no harm in caring for the boy, he’s only a youngling.” Thazelle insisted.

“Let’s let the High Fae decide.” Bracken said gruffly, he was still unsure about the human child, but much like his wife he couldn’t bring himself to leave the innocent child to die.

 Without another word they split apart before holding their hands out to cast a levitation spell.

The world distorted around the child as he was lifted effortlessly into the air and then guided quietly and slowly back toward their city of Donterra. As they approached the glamour surrounding their city they were stopped, the child was guided toward the forest floor once more and the barrier would not let them pass.

Another Fae materialized from within the glamour and regarded them with surprise.

“Bracken, what is the meaning of this? I thought there was a human intruder.” Rylo stated flying closer to them, the young couple seemed winded and drained of magical energy.

“You must allow this human youngling entry, he was left abandoned and requires our protection.” Bracken explained, gesturing to the still sleeping human child.

“I’ll call the High Fae.” Rylo said as a matter of urgency, he spun around and was gone just as fast.

Only a minute or two must have passed before the four High Fae materialized before them. Each one with glimmering gold wings and an ethereal glow about their bodies that regular Fae such as Bracken and Thazelle simply didn’t have. They were tall and regal and their faces revealed no emotion upon observing the sight before them.

Each one represented one of the four elements that protected the Fae and gifted each Fae with the power to reach one of the elemental energies, lending them their magic. The four High Fae had lived longer than any other in Donterra and would remain the source of all Fae magic for thousands of years to come.

“Forgive me your excellencies, we wish to grant this human youngling safety within our city, protected behind our glamour.” Bracken though his hands were shaking, spoke loudly and clearly without letting his voice tremble under their intense golden gazes.

“Human’s do not belong in Donterra.” Etha, the High Fae of the Earth spoke, her voice resonating in the quiet of the forest, the other’s nodded their heads in agreement.

“This Human poses no threat to Donterra, he is only a youngling.” Bracken tried again.

“Human’s grow up Bracken, he will not stay this small for very long, and what say his parents come looking for him? You would ask us to place the people of our city in such danger?” Frix, the High Fae of fire spoke then, his eyes sparking with a fiery red before returning to a glimmering gold and Bracken fought to keep his composure.

“He was left abandoned.” Thazelle spoke up, ignoring her husbands insistence that she leave this to him. “His own kind would leave him to die cold and alone, they will not return for him.”

“Human’s are dangerous, they are selfish, cruel and know only destruction, what’s to stop him from growing up within our walls only to become our undoing, you’ve seen what they do to their own kind.” Frix continued, a fiery halo materialized above his head, in the smoke was images of human’s engaged in battle.

“If he is raised under our teachings, he will grow up as any other Fae youngling would, he will not know the destructive ways of his ancestors because he will grow up learning only our ways of life.” Thazelle explained calmly.

“Will you both personally take responsibility for this child?” Whista asked, the High Fae of water, the source of Thazelle’s own power seemed to be starting to see reason.

Thazelle tried to keep her composure but a small relieved smile played on her lips.

“Human’s are like animals sister, instincts cannot be untaught, there is nothing stopping this child from growing power hungry and destroying us all.” Frix growled at Whista though she barely seemed to notice, her gold gaze fixed on the sleeping human child, she tilted her head thoughtfully at his peacefulness.

“I agree with our sister, he deserves a chance to prove himself to be more than his ancestors, to grow up with Fae ideals, if he is raised correctly I do not believe he will pose a threat to us and he may even assist in protecting out city as he grows older.” Arlander, the High Fae of Air turned to his siblings, waiting for Frix to argue the point.

“It is decided then.” Etha nodded. “You both will raise the child as your own, if at any time this human child poses any risk to our people, he is to be destroyed, is that understood.”

“Yes your Highness.” Bracken breathed a sigh of relief.

“We will help you bring the child inside the city and deliver him to your home, from there, you are on your own, there are no second chances.” Arlander explained.

The glamour dropped revealing the elegance of Donterra beyond and three of the four High Fae raised their arms in preparation of casting a spell. Their magic combined surrounded the human child in a golden glow before he was lifted off the ground and floated toward the city.

Frix glared at the two young Fae parents before turning abruptly and flying toward Donterra castle, refusing to help.

Many other Fae flitted about as they passed by, whispering to each other, some gasping in horror at the sight of a human within Donterra walls, none approached though, only watching on in surprise, distress or anger. None would dare question the decision of the High Fae though.

The child was brought to Bracken and Thazelle’s home tree, fortunately their tree was situated on the outskirts of the city and backed onto a large clearing, the human child would have space to grow.

The High Fae of the Earth then influenced the roots of their tree to grow and bend creating a spacious room for the child, shelter from the elements and a warm place for the child to sleep.

Once the room was built, Whista flew toward the child’s head, brushed a stray brown lock from his eyes before turning to Bracken and Thazelle who had not said a word the entire journey here. Too stunned at the gravity of the situation they had gotten themselves into to speak.

“Does he have a name?” Whista asked gently.

“We do not know what his parents have named him.” Bracken said simply.

Etha hummed in thought for a moment before speaking again. “Raiden will be his name, it is a strong Fae name meaning ‘Peace of the Earth’. I hope it will serve him well.”

Etha, Arlander and Whista wished them both the best in their endeavours, swearing to offer advice and safety when needed. Then they were gone and only the sounds of the sleeping human younglings even breaths could be heard.

“Mumma!”

The babble of their first and only child up to now broke the silence and they turned to see their youngling Finn and his Auntie Jezabelle making a slow approach toward them.

Finn toddled along, his wings still too small to lift him, and his arms out wide for a hug.

Thazelle scooped him up and set him on her hip before nuzzling her nose with his.

“My beautiful cherub, I hope you’ve been good for your Auntie Jezzy.” Thazelle cooed and giggled with him before holding him close to her chest and hugging him tightly, her golden eyes met her sisters of the same colour.

“What have you got yourself into now Thezzy.” Jezabelle sighed, observing the human child who squirmed in his sleep a little before settling down again.

“We could not leave him to die sister, he will grow up strong and kind and gentle, I’ll make sure of it.” Thazelle insisted.

“You’re a brave man.” Jezabelle eyed Bracken with a knowing look before laughing good naturedly.

“We did the right thing, it was a choice we made together, like always.” He said in his stoic sort of way and held his wife’s hand before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you ready to be a big brother Finn?” Aunty Jezzy smiled at her nephew and his stormy eyes that matched his father’s twinkled at the idea.

“A big brother?” Bracken asked, somewhat put off by the assumption, he just couldn’t see it, not yet anyway.

“If you are to raise him as your own, Raiden will be your son will he not?” She continued on. “That would make Finn the big brother, seeing as he is older than this youngling is.”

“I suppose you’re right, Raiden will be Finn’s brother, if all goes as we hope it will.” Thazelle agreed, Bracken still watched the child with unsure eyes.

Just then Raiden began to stir, his striking blue eyes blinked open sleepily and immediately landed on the Fae folk standing outside his makeshift bedroom. He did not speak, he would be too young, but his eyes held such curiosity and wonder that Bracken was sure he would make a grab at them at any moment.

Though no such thing happened, instead Finn squirmed in his mother’s grasp and eventually was let down onto the floor where he then ran to stand before the eyes of his new brother.

The two stared at each other for a moment, Raiden blinked his long lashes and seemed to be waiting for the Faeling to make the first move. Finn the energetic ball of auburn hair leapt toward the human youngling’s face and clung to his nose in a funny sort of hug.

The human child giggled which made Finn giggle too but otherwise made no move to catch him in his chubby hands.

Raiden seemed happy and cautious and gentle, but only time would tell what kind of person the child would grow to be. Bracken and Thazelle could only hope that their love and guidance would shape him into a kind young man who knew not the ways of war as his ancestors did.

Only time would tell.

[lchufflepuffcorn]

More thoughts about Dragon!Hybrid!Targaryens (extended)

I will definitely make a master list for this thing. :,)

Masterlist

Dragon!Hybrid Masterlist

@lady-dragon-rider

Either they can change into full dragons, have dragon-like features, or a mix of the two (can shapeshift at will). Maybe some are better at it than others. I feel like Aegon wouldn’t change as much as (let’s say) Jace or Luke, even Rhaenyra.

The Changing comes from some sort of deep magic, long forgotten, that dilutes itself the more there is marriage with people who don’t bear said magic. (Hence why Aemond had trouble shapeshifting for the first decade, or so, of his life.)

In their full dragon forms, they are as big as dragons are in the show. 

They pack bound, generally with people they feel close to (family, friends, etc.). This also explains why so many Targaryens married each other (and the blood purity to keep the changing). 

They Hoard™ (obviously). Like, Daemon likes to hoard crowns. Any kind of crown, shiny, bony, feminine, masculine, leather, metal, or any other material, really. Powerful hats, even. Aemond, like I said here, hoards his partner and everything about his partner. 

They are very warm. That’s the fire in them. They can somewhat control it, to various degrees of success, mind you. I feel like the younger Targaryen children are, the worse their control is. But also, the sanity might play with that control. Viserys, in the end, burned someone, for sure. Aegon II too; his control totally slipped after he got burned and crushed at Dragonstone. 

If they can be humans but still have dragon features (a tail), I’d imagine they would move, like a cat’s or dog’s. Making their emotions clearer to see for all. I’d imagine also that it's a form they wouldn’t show to everybody that often. To impress, or to be feared, they’d use it. But otherwise, it would be reserved for those closest to them. 

What is theirs, stay theirs. We already know they would fight even each other for what they believe is their rightful thing/right/person. Castle, crowns, lands—nothing is exempt from their possession. They can obviously share, but do they want to? Rhaenyra and Daemon might share their lover(s). But Aemond wouldn’t let anyone even breathe near his lover without his careful eye watching. 

I don’t think the whole of the Seven Kingdoms knows about the Hoarding. That’s a very personal thing to know about. Like, sure, Aegon the Conqueror had a seat made out of swords, but it was to signify the union of the kingdoms for suuuuuuuure. And Baela has rook chess pieces in every colour ever made because she just thinks they’re neat. nods. 

 I think that some dragon shifters are mate-bound. Not all of them, but some. And not everyone is privy to this information either; that’s a kind of vulnerability the Targaryens don’t need. 

Since they’re also from Valyria, the Velaryons must have some kind of magic or power over the sea. Maybe they can control the seas; maybe they can shapeshift too… Those who have Targaryen blood too absolutely can shapeshift into dragons, but they have more affinities with the waters. 

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

REQUESTING G7! YUU WHERE WHEN THE OVERBLOT GANG MEETS THE G7 MEMBER THEY MATCH WITH AND THE G7 MEMBER SUBTLY IMPLIES (or straight up announces) THAT THEY SHOULD WED GET TOGETHER UL give grand kids?

Not all G7 members fit this but for the ones who do

Bringing The Overblots Home to the Seven

Great 7 AU

Uuuh Urusla and Jafar is more based on Starkid/Unfortunate Yuu is gn

To say your boyfriend was nervous was an understatement. He was an anxious wreck since learning that your parents were the seven themselves, even if he tried to play it off. How could he possibly explain when he tried to hurt you during his overblot to them. Would all seven even approve of him? To relax his nerves about meeting your family you decided to introduce them to each other one at a time, starting with the one their dorm was based on.

Riddle + The Queen of Hearts

“Rule 298, one must dress in appropriate attire when meeting with the Queen. According to the Heart’s Kingdom Fashion Guidebook of old, this is exactly the distinguished guest wear that they wore then…” Riddle takes a deep breath in as he smooths the multicolored and rather zany suit across his body. It was covered in all sorts of patches of color and card patterns, but he seemed to pull it off well.

“You don’t need to worry, Riddle, she likes you! She really does!” You soothe as Riddle gives himself a quick once over in the mirror. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you both made your way over to Ramshackle where your mother waited excitedly.

Riddle sat at the tea table, directly across from the Queen of Hearts as you sat between them. Swallowing a lump in his throat he sat with perfect posture. “It is an honor to meet you, your majesty,” Riddle speaks nervously.

The Red Queen sits, for a moment, glancing over at you. “Mother… This is my boyfriend, Riddle as I’m sure you know!” Knowing what was to come you close your eyes, ever since you first arrived in NRC, your mother has adored Riddle and his affinity for her rules. She was beyond happy when you started developing feelings for him.

“Oh, my little Rose has a lover now! I’m so happy!” She says, holding her hand to her heart. “And with such a perfect gentleman too!” Riddle smiles proudly as the Queen hands him his tea. “You know…” She starts in a tone of voice you are all too familiar with.

“My little Rose here had a crush on you for a looong time!” “Mother…” “I think it was love at first sight!,” “Mother!” “And honestly I think it was so cute the way my little Yuu would speak of you!” “Mom!” You want to hide your face in embarrassment as Riddle shoots you a smirk. “Is that so, your majesty?”

“So have you discussed much about marriage?” “MOM!” You sputter as Riddle goes pink in the face. “Oh, I’m just saying you two are perfect for each other! You see—“ You hid your face in your hands, you just knew this would happen.

“Oh, it has been so long since I heard the words your majesty. Rose, you must hang on tight to this one!” As the conversation continues, Riddle starts to loosen up, and is able to bond with your mother over all sorts of things, and even impress her with reciting each of the Queen's rules by heart. That combined with his academic excellence, it's no shock that the Queen approves of him. What was shocking, however, was the conversation topic that came directly after.

Leona + Scar

“My father he’s…” “Strict?” Leona finishes, “I figured.” He sighs as he stretches up from his napping spot. “He does like you though if that's worth anything?” “Hmph.” Leona didn’t allow his aloof persona to fall, but you both knew that he was nervous. His idol the King of Beasts wants to meet him? And he’s dating his child…

It was a lot for Leona to take in… Still, he held a lot of respect for the King of Beasts. Washing up and dressing his best, you both made your way to Ramshackle where the lion lazily lay in the common room on the couch, messing with a chessboard.

“Oh? The little cub and their betrothed are here?” Scar glances over to where you and Leona stood, before getting up himself and approaching. Circling Leona, his sharp tongue dances again. “You’re certainly dressed to impress…” A small roar escapes his throat, before he circles back to the chessboard. “Do you play?”

“Yes, sir” Taking the king's cue, Leona sat down at the seat across from Scar. The two stare at each other for a moment before the lion lets out a yawn. “White goes first.” He huffs and Leona carefully moves a pawn to the center, a classic opener. You go and sit next to your father, giving your boyfriend a reassuring look.

“So tell me…” Scar moves his pawn to the center as well. “What are your intentions with my cub?” Despite how boredly he said it, you could tell how serious he was. Leona remained calm as ever, tail flicking. “To be their loyal mate and give them the best I can provide. They mean a lot to me.”

“Hmph. A daring answer…” Scar snarks (Though you could tell he was surprised by how mature Leona was), and watches Leona make his move on the board. “You’re usually a confident one, show me.” Just then Scar moves one of his rooks in a seemingly random maneuver. “You won’t be able to beat me nor impress me if you play it safe, cub.” He roars. “Bare your teeth…”

The most intense chess match breaks out spanning across an hour, the whole time you watch nervously as sparks fly and gears turn. Maunvers both bold and brazen are played across the board, and in the end, Leona…. Loses. With only the queens on both sides left, it was only a matter of time before one of them lost.

Scar suddenly leans into Leona’s face, snarling. Before you could intervene Leona gets up, snarling back, body ready to fight if needed. Your father then smirks before turning away, feigning boredom once again despite the small smile on his face and the fact that he had a good opponent for once, “Hmph, I suppose you have proven yourself to be worthy of my cub today…” He stretches before letting out a yawn.

“But if you ever want their hand, you would have to fight me for it, got it?” “I look forward to it.”

Azul + Urusla and the Eels.

You and Azul sat across from the table from your mother and your eel siblings as you glared at them. “You two better not say anything…” you warn. “Why I would never!” Jetsam snickers as he eyes a very nervous Azul, sitting with perfect manners and posture.

“Be nice to each other you two…” Ursula lightly scolds. You sigh and sit back, ready for the endless amount of teasing you both would endure, judging by Azul's carefully calculated expression, you could tell Azul was holding back his urge to fanboy at the sight of his idol.

“Now…” Ursula turns around to face you both, mirror in hand and touching up her lipstick. “Let's get started,” she smirks along with the eels who eye you and give a few sinister chuckles. “Hey, Azuuul!” Flotsam chuckles. “The little guppy had the most embarrassing crush on you~” “Do not go there.” You warn. “What did you say about him again? That he was super pretty and you couldn’t—“ “Jetsam!” You cut off the other eel as they both snicker, making Azul glance over at you, holding back a smirk.

“Ignore them.” You silently pray that you will survive this. “So Azul…” “It is an honor to meet you, I greatly admire your work.” “I can tell Angelfish, and I have to say I adore the way you run things!” She waves her hands showing her nails. “You and your boys run a tight ship, and I always appreciate a good old-fashioned gentleman to take care of my little guppy here.”

“I'm glad you chose well, child. You know I will always support you no matter who you choose so long as they make you happy. Besides, I know no one would have the audacity to hurt my baby!” Ursula gives a genuine smile at the two of you as you lean into Azul. “Aw, you two are adorable!” Leaning in closer with the eels, Ursula’s grin grows again.

“Come here Azul, I’m sure we have much to talk about,” your mother says as she slides over, makeup brush in hand. “In this family, we always do our makeup together, I hope you don’t mind~” “Not at all, ma’am!” Azul boasts as Ursula starts applying some light foundation to Azul’s features. Your eel siblings slither their way over to you with makeup brushes in their mouths and an evil glint in their eyes and you know you're gonna look like a clown by the end of the night.

The rest of the night was spent well, doing makeup and talking about all sorts of things as if Azul was already a deeper part of your family. He even sasses back Jetsam on a few occasions (probably due to experiences with his own eels) and you knew he would fit in just right.

Jamil + Jafar

To say that your father wasn’t all that pleased that you got with Jamil was an understatement. He was an intelligent and strong artisan, yes, but that doesn't erase what he did during book four! At least that is his excuse, you have a faint idea however that your baba doesn't want to see you grow up however, given the fact that he seems fond of Jamil compared to most others…

You and a sharply dressed Jamil are escorted by a very talkative Iago, who is attempting his best shovel talk as he flaps his wings. “Oh hush Iago,” you roll your eyes out of embarrassment. “He’s always like this…” “I am not!” Iago squawks, landing on your shoulder. “I just can't believe you're coming home with some guy!” “He’s not just a guy, Iago. He’s my boyfriend!” “That’s even worse!”

Sighing, you hold Jamil’s hand, squeezing it as you brave the mirror into the Ramshackle dorm where your father waits. Into the dorm, you immediately see him standing there, and Iago goes to take his place on his shoulder. Tapping his staff on the ground twice, he greets you both. “Child… Jamil…” “Greetings, sir.”

Jamil was in his servant mode, years of being at Kalim’s beck and call paying off. Jafar and Iago stared down at the young man where he stood “Drop the act. I see through it.” Jamil relaxes slightly but still holds his posture as Jafar approaches him. “Hmph. So my diamond brought back the boy who tried to kill them… How do I know you won’t try to hurt them again?” Jafar leans in and glares as Iago gives a smug look.

“I regret what I have done in the past, sir. If I could go back and right my wrongs I would. I do not want to hurt Yuu.” “Hmph…” Jafar held his head high as he sifted through his pockets. “We shall see about that. Follow me.”

Guiding Jamil out of Ramshackle you followed Jafar as he held a device out; two halves of a golden scarab. You could feel Jamil tense slightly at the sight. “ Love is built on the foundation of trust. This device,” Jafar holds them up between his thumb and index finger. “Can only be conjoined when two lovers truly trust each other. When there is no trust, there cannot be love. Only if the beetles connect, will I allow this relationship” He states, face stoic.

“Baba, isn't this a bit much?” You interrupt making Iago squawk again. “You heard what Jafar said!” Jafar merely held up his hands, a signal for silence. “Habibi, you should have nothing to fear if you both truly love each other.” A small grin threatens to rise to his face before he closes his hand into a fist and opens his palm revealing the halves. “Take one.”

Jamil reaches over and grabs one half of the mechanical beetle as do you. “Hold them next to each other. You grab onto Jamil's empty hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you feel his heartbeat speed up. He was nervous, and so were you. Swallowing you both look at each other, ignoring how Iago snickers as you hold both halves of the beetle to each other.

For a brief moment, nothing happens and your heart sinks, before Jamil’s half twitches and connects with yours, activating your side. The beetle suddenly glows, shooting a beam of golden light into the air briefly before its wings flap. Jafar reaches his hand out and allows it to fly back onto his palm.

“It seems you have passed. It will be wonderful to have another talented mage in the family.” The sorcerer remains stoic as Iago’s jaw hangs on the floor. “Now, come in. I will prepare a pot of tea.”

You didn't tell Jamil that when he left Jafar asked if you see yourself getting married to him.

Vil + Queen Grimhilde

Queen Grimhilde was always… stiff. She seldom expressed her emotions, and she rarely was physically affectionate, but you knew she loved you in her own way. You remember her awkward hugs to your child self and how she always pushed you to be your best.

So when it came time to introduce her to your boyfriend Vil, you were nervous. You didn't know if she would show her more brutal side or if her strictness may come off the wrong way when she expresses her opinions on your relationship. It did bring you both comfort to know that the Queen admired his own strictness and ideals.

In his best dress, Vil entered the Pommefiore commons which was bare due to the presence of the Queen who admired herself in the hand mirror she carried, her Raven sitting on the table next to her. You remember her saying she couldn’t bear to be in the Ramshackle dorm any longer. Come sit.” She commands, gesturing to the chairs next to her at the fancy table she sat at, not taking her eyes off the mirror.

You stiffly sat down, making the Queen glance at you as Vil curtsied before sitting down gracefully. De-materializing the mirror in thin air she placed her perfectly manicured hands on top of each other, resting them on the table, Raven started to flap her wings and went to perch on your mother's shoulder. “So, you are the one dating my child, I must admit, I’m more impressed than I thought I would be.” She states giving him a once-over.

Grimhilde raises a brow, then looks at you, pouring a strange sparkly tea into a cup and bestowing it to Vil, before pouring one for you as well. “Drink up.” She commands again and you and Vil pick up your saucers your teacups sat on and took a sip with your best manners,

“Tell me, why should I entrust my child to you?” A flash of light seemed to flicker in Vil’s eyes as he spoke. “I will cherish them every day of our lives together, they mean the world to me.” “And you will not hurt them?” “I wouldn’t dream of it, your highness.”

Lifting her head up and crossing her arms she asks another question, one Raven crows at. “What do you love about them, about my Yuu?” Grimhilde ran her fingers through Raven's feathers as her gaze seemed to burn through you and Vil. “Everything. I am completely infatuated with Yuu.” Vil’s eyes widen slightly at the blunt response he gave, at which Grimhilde wears an evil glint in her eye as she continues.

“And you child. Do you love, no, do you trust this man?” A sudden force came over you, and it was like you couldn't formulate your own words. “With all my heart.” “With all your heart…” She repeats, almost impressed. “Well, that's a start... Now tell me. What do you love about Vil? What do you see in him that you want?”

As you try to formulate a sentence you sputter slightly making realize what that sweet liquid you drank was: Truth Serum Tea. “I see someone who always gives his best. A young man who always looks out for others in his own way. Someone that will love me as much as I do him.” There was so much more you wanted to say, so much more than the truth serum beckoned out of you, yet you didn’t know how.

“And you, Vil?” “I see someone I can be my true self with. Someone I can let my guard down with. Someone I can truly trust.”

'Hmm… That concludes this test, for now.” Raven crows in response as you let out a sigh of relief. “I shall brew you the antidote, now Vil.” She adds some powder to into the teapot and mixes it with a golden spoon. “We have much to talk about,”

Idia + Hades

“Nice to see you're doing charity work by dating him.” “Be nice! I love him!” You sighed, knowing well that your father would make getting a lover exceptionally difficult. “I just can’t believe you’re falling head over heels for some guy!” “He’s very kind to me!” “Oh please, he's a guy!” Hades spat. You knew introducing Idia to him would be… interesting.

Idia was practically shaking as you both walked hand in hand to Ramshackle, he was already an anxious person in general, and now he has to meet his partner’s (Who was already way out of his league beforehand) father who happens to be LORD HADES?! It was a wonder he hasn’t fainted.

“Oh hey, you're finally here.” Hades spoke standing in the doorway of Ramshackle, smirking when he sees Idia. “Please, do come in…”

Idia sat at the table, Pain and Panic sat between you and Idia per Hades orders and he “doesn’t want to see any canoodling between to two of you.” Floating over to his seat Hades stretches before leaning in. “Soooo…” Hades looks between the two of you. “Tell me again, kiddo why did you choose this one again?”

“Dad! I told you he treats me well and is very nice to me! He’s a really sweet guy!” Idia’s hair flickers with pink highlights for a second before he looks away “Right, I don't see it. I see a very cowardly Panic wannabe here, personally.” Man, he never expected Lord Hades, Thee Lord Hades, to tear into him this is so embarrassing.

“Okay so listen here kid, what do you want from my kiddo, huh? What's your deal?” “Well, um, I” Hades looks unimpressed at you. “I really love them, you know…” Idia practically whispers without realizing. Hades nearly drags his hand over his face.

“Alright then, kid. Let's try this again, what do you want with my ember?” “I um” “Come on, say it with your chest!” “I can't say it with my chest if you keep interrupting me!” Idia snapped before covering his mouth with a horrified expression. You stare at your dad and then at Pain and Panic who looked at each other in horror. A moment of silence passes before Hades smiles.

“There we go!” Hades laughs. “There's a bit of punch, a bit of bite, you lacked. I knew there was more to you. Keep it up and you just may be in my good graces yet,” Hades laughed, making Idia relax.

The two seemed to hit off very well, as they occasionally sassed each other in their conversations, even conversing with Pain and Panic as well. “Aaah srry for my awkwardness you were always a big inspiration for my growing up…” ”Oh is that so? Well don’t stop there, praise me more!” (There are lots of times where Idia talked about Tech Hades didn't understand)

It is safe to say Hades sees Idia as a good kid and is welcomed to the family.

Malleus + Maleficent

To say that Malleus was surprised that his distant ancestor watched over you was an understatement, even more so when she invited him out for a walk to get to know him, promising Lilia they will catch up later. Is the Thorn Fairy inviting him? This was a huge honor, especially since she wants to congratulate you on your relationship together.

Deep in the forest of Ramshackle stood Maleficent in all of her glory as she admires the world around her, finally free to roam. The fae looked back to you and Malleus, face carefully neutral as Dival flocked from your shoulder to hers. “You’ve arrived. We have much to talk about, it appears you are a great-grandson of mine?”

“Indeed I am, Mistress Maleficent.” “There is no need for formalities. Now tell me all about you and my Dragon-Child.” Malleus gave a smile and you leaned into him, before Diaval let out a crow, as if telling you to stop.

The four of you took your time walking the forest trail that Malleus adored, you listened as Malleus updated the Thorn Fairy on all the history that has taken place since her reign, the well-being of Briar Valley, and Lilia, her old friend. “Still can't cook after all these years?” “I am afraid not.”

“It seems you and my child have grown close. Usually, I would be against anyone dating my child, but you aren’t just anyone, are you? Tell me, what made you love them?” Malleus's eyes widened slightly as he thought for a moment. “Well, everything.” He finally answered after a while.

Maleficent smiles down at Malleus as Diaval looks between him and you. “And you will take care of them?” Diaval asks in his crow voice. “I would do anything for them,” Malleus answers strongly.

“Congratulations you two on finding each other, I am happy to see how your relationship will flourish. And finally... Yuu?” the fae asked gently “Yes?” Maleficent approaches you and bends down to hug you. “I can now truly welcome you into my family as well my child… Just do not tell the other six…” You let out a chuckle before returning the hug tenfold.

“Now tell me, when do you both plan on getting married?” You speak for Malleus, trying to get your mother to drop the subject. “Oh! Well, we haven't gotten that far yet—“ Maleficent will understand but will also now give you all sorts of courting advice on dragon fae. Diaval and you see right through her though.

The rest of the seven are secretly salty

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Inside William’s Next Act: Tatler’s May issue goes behind the scenes as the Prince of Wales is rising above the noise — and playing the long game

The burden of leadership is falling upon Prince William, but as former BBC Royal Correspondent, Wesley Kerr OBE, explains in Tatler’s May cover story, the future king is taking charge

By Wesley Kerr OBE

21 March 2024

When I first met Prince William in 2009, he asked me if I could tell him how he could win the National Lottery.

It was a jokey quip from someone who has since become the Prince of Wales, the holder of three dukedoms, three earldoms, two baronies and two knighthoods, and heir to the most prestigious throne on earth.

He was, of course, being relatable; I was representing the organisation that had allocated Lottery funding towards the Whitechapel Gallery and he wanted to put me at ease.

William is grand but different, royal but real.

At 6ft 3in, he has the bearing and looks great in uniform after a distinguished, gallant military career.

He will be one of the tallest of Britain’s kings since Edward Longshanks in the 14th century and should one day be crowned sitting above the Stone of Scone that Edward ‘borrowed.’

William, by contrast, has a deep affinity with Scotland and Wales, having lived in both nations and gained solace from the Scottish landscape after his mother died.

He’s popular in America and understands that the Crown’s relationship to the Commonwealth must evolve.

The Prince of Wales has long believed that ‘the Royal Family has to modernise and develop as it goes along, and it has to stay relevant’, as he once said in an interview.

He seeks his own way of being relatable, of benefitting everybody, in the context of an ancient institution undergoing significant challenge and upheaval, as the head of a nation divided by hard times, conflicts abroad, and social and political uncertainty.

We might recognise Shakespeare’s powerful line spoken by Claudius in Hamlet: ‘When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.’

With the triple announcement in January and February of the Princess of Wales’s abdominal surgery and long convalescence, of King Charles’s prostate procedure and then of his cancer diagnosis, the burden of leadership has fallen on 76-year-old Queen Camilla and, crucially, on William.

The Prince of Wales’s time has come to step up; and so he has deftly done.

In recent months, we have seen a fully-fledged deputy head of state putting into practice his long-held ideas, speaking out on the most contentious issue of the day and taking direct action on homelessness.

Last June, he unveiled the multi-agency Homewards initiative with the huge aspiration of ending homelessness, backed with £3 million from his Foundation to spearhead action across the UK.

He is consolidating Heads Together, the long-standing campaign on mental health, and fundraises for charities like London’s Air Ambulance Charity.

He was, of course, once a pilot for the East Anglian Air Ambulance services – a profession that had its downside: seeing people in extremis or at death’s door, he found himself ‘taking home people’s trauma, people’s sadness.’

Tom Cruise was a guest at the recent London’s Air Ambulance Charity fundraiser, William’s first gala event after Kate’s operation.

And more stardust followed when William showed that, even without his wife by his side, he could outclass any movie star at the Baftas.

There’s also his immense aim of helping to ‘repair the planet’ itself with his Earthshot Prize: five annual awards of £1 million for transformative environmental projects with worldwide application.

This project has a laser focus on biodiversity, better air quality, cleaner seas, reducing waste and combating climate change. Similar aims to his father; different means to achieve the goal.

On the issue which has caused huge convulsions – the Middle East conflict – William’s 20 February statement from Kensington Palace grabbed attention.

He said he was ‘deeply concerned about the terrible human cost of the conflict since the Hamas terrorist attack on 7 October. Too many have been killed.’

There were criticisms – along the lines of ‘the late Queen would have never spoken out like this’ or ‘what right does he have to meddle in politics?’ – but it was hard to disagree with his carefully calibrated words.

His call for peace, the ‘desperate need’ for humanitarian aid, the return of the hostages.

The statement was approved by His Majesty’s Government, likely cleared with the King himself at Sandringham the previous weekend and also backed by the chief rabbi of Great Britain, Sir Ephraim Mirvis.

Indeed, William and Catherine had immediately spoken out on the horrors of 7 October.

William followed up the week after his Kensington Palace statement by visiting a synagogue and sending a ‘powerful message’, according to the chief rabbi, by meeting a Holocaust survivor and condemning anti-Semitism.

This is rooted in deep personal conviction following William’s 2018 visit to Israel and the West Bank, says Valentine Low, the distinguished author of Courtiers and The Times’s royal correspondent of 15 years, who was on that 2018 trip.

‘William was so moved by his visit to Israel and the West Bank, he found it very affecting, and he was not going to drop this issue – he was going to pay attention to it for the rest of his life,’ says Low.

‘He must feel that… not to say something on the most important issue in the world [at that moment] would be a bit odd if you feel so strongly about it.’

There was concern from some commentators about politicising the monarchy, but this rose above the particulars of party politics.

As Prince of Wales, like his father before him, there is perhaps space to speak out sparingly on carefully chosen issues.

On this occasion, his views were in line with majority public opinion.

On homelessness, news came that same week that William was planning to build 24 homes for the homeless on his Duchy of Cornwall estate.

‘William’s impact is very personal,’ says Mick Clarke, chief executive of The Passage, a charity providing emergency accommodation for London’s homeless.

‘Two weeks before Christmas, the prince came to our Resource Centre in Victoria for a Christmas lunch for 150 people.

He was scheduled to stay for an hour, to help serve, wash up, and talk to people.

He ended up staying for two and a quarter hours, during which time he went from table to table and spoke to every single person.’

Clarke continues:

‘William has an ability to listen, talk and to put people at ease. During the November 2020 lockdown, he came on three separate occasions to help.

It gave the team a boost that he took the time; it was his way of saying: “I support you; you’re doing a great job.”’

Seyi Obakin, chief executive of Centrepoint, one of the prince’s best-known causes, adds:

‘People associate his patronage with the big moments like the time he and I slept under Blackfriars Bridge.

The things that stick with me are smaller in scale and the more profound for it – in quieter moments, away from the cameras, where he has volunteered his time.’

It is a different approach from the King’s.

As Prince of Wales, he was involved in the minutiae of dozens of issues at any one time, working into the night to follow up on emails, crafting his speeches, writing or dictating notes.

Add to that much nationwide touring over 40 years (after he left active military service in 1976), fitting in multiple engagements, often being greeted formally by lord lieutenants.

This is not William’s style. He has commended his father’s model, but he does things his own way.

Although patronages are under review, William has up till now far fewer than either his father or his grandparents.

Charles is sympathetic to William’s approach and his desire to make time with his young family sacrosanct.

They are confidantes, attested by the night of Queen Elizabeth’s death.

They were both at Birkhall with Camilla, reviewing funeral arrangements while the rest of the grieving family were nearby at Balmoral, hosted by the Princess Royal.

Charles has had almost six decades in public life and is the senior statesman of our time, with even longer in the spotlight than Joe Biden.

After Eton and St Andrew’s University, where he met Catherine, William served in three branches of the military between 2006 and 2013, finishing as a seasoned and skilled helicopter rescue pilot.

His later employment as an air ambulance pilot stopped in 2017, when he became a full-time working royal.

At that time, not so long ago – with Harry unmarried, Andrew undisgraced, and Philip and Elizabeth still active – William shared the spotlight.

Now, after the King, he’s the key man.

He can look back on the success of his first big campaign initially launched with his wife and brother in 2016: Heads Together.

‘We are delighted that Prince William should have become such a positive and sympathetic advocate for mental health through his Heads Together initiative and now well-established text service, Shout, among other projects,’ says the longtime CEO and founder of Sane, the remarkable Marjorie Wallace CBE.

‘It is not always known that he follows in the footsteps of his father, the King, whose inspiration and vision were vital in the creation of our mental health charity Sane.

As founding patron, he was instrumental in establishing our 365-days-a-year helpline and was a remarkable and selfless support to me in setting up the Prince of Wales International Centre for Sane Research.’

'Indeed,' says Wallace, 'this is where Prince William echoes the work of his father, showing the same ‘understanding and compassion for people struggling through dark and difficult times of their lives and has done much to raise awareness and encourage those affected to speak out and seek help.

We owe a huge debt to His Majesty and the Prince of Wales for their involvement in this still-neglected area.’

Just as I saw all those years ago at that early solo engagement in Whitechapel, William still approaches his public duties with humour and fun.

‘He defuses the formality with jocularity,’ says Valentine Low, citing two public events in 2023 that he witnessed.

In April last year, while on a visit to Birmingham, William randomly answered the phone in an Indian restaurant he was being shown around and took a table booking from a customer – an endearing act of spontaneity.

On his arrival later that day, the unsuspecting diner was surprised to be told exactly whom he had been talking to.

In October, Low reported, William ‘unleashed his inner flirt as he hugged his way through a visit with Caribbean elders [in Cardiff] to mark Black History Month.

As he gave one woman a hug – for longer than she expected – he joked: “I draw the line at kissing.”

And while posing for a group photograph, he prompted gales of laughter when he quipped: “Who is pinching my bottom?”’

Low believes that when William eventually becomes king, he will be more ‘radical’ than his father but wonders if people will respond to ‘call me William’ when ‘the whole point of the Royal Family is mystique and being different.’

However, William has thought deeply about his current role and is prepared for whatever his future holds.

For now, there is a decision to be made on Prince George’s secondary schooling. It’s said that five public schools are being considered, all fee-paying.

Eton is single-sex and boarding but close to home. Marlborough (Catherine’s alma mater) is co-ed and full boarding. And Oundle, St Edward’s Oxford and Bradfield College (close to Kate’s parents) are co-ed with a mix of boarding and day.

As parents, William and Catherine aspire to raise their children ‘as good people with the idea of service and duty to others as very important’, William said in an interview with the BBC in 2016.

‘Within our family unit, we are a normal family.’ Which may be one reason why he is so resistant to their privacy being compromised either by the media or close family members.

The 19th-century author Walter Bagehot wrote:

‘A family on the throne is an interesting idea also. It brings down the pride of sovereignty to the level of petty life… a princely marriage is the brilliant edition of a universal fact, and, as such, it rivets mankind.’

If hereditary monarchy is to survive, it must beguile us but also demonstrate its utility, that it is a force for good.

William said in that 2016 interview, ‘I’m going to get plenty of criticism over my lifetime,’ echoing Queen Elizabeth II’s famous Guildhall speech in 1992 ‘that criticism is good for people and institutions that are part of public life. No institution – city, monarchy, whatever – should expect to be free from the scrutiny of those who give it their loyalty and support, not to mention those who don’t.’

William saw close up his mother’s ability to bring public focus and her own personal magnetism to any subject or cause she focused on.

He admires his father’s work ethic, the way he ‘really digs down,’ sometimes literally (I understand that gardening is giving the King solace during his cancer treatment).

But the biggest influence for William was Her late Majesty, as he said on her 90th birthday.

As an Eton schoolboy, William made weekend visits to the big house on the hill, being mentored by Granny rather as she had been tutored in the Second World War by the then vice-provost of Eton, Sir Henry Marten.

William said in 2016:

‘In the Queen, I have an extraordinary example of somebody who’s done an enormous amount of good and she’s probably the best role model I could have.’

That said, his aim was ‘finding your own path but with very good examples and guidance around you to support you.'

Queen Elizabeth II had a brilliant way of rising above the fray and usually being either a step ahead of public opinion or in tune with it.

If you are at the helm of affairs in a privileged hereditary position, your duty is to serve and use your pulpit for the benefit of others.

In a democracy, monarchy is accountable.

The scrutiny is intense, with an army of commentators paid for wisdom and hot air about each no-show, parsing each announcement, interpreting each image.

William takes the long view. He has ‘wide horizons,’ says Mick Clarke.

‘There are so many causes that are more palatable and easier to achieve than ending homelessness, but his commitment and drive are 100 per cent.’

The prince seeks a different way of being royal in an ancient institution that must move with the times. His task? To develop something modern in an ever-changing world.

He faces all sorts of new issues – or old issues in new guises.

Noises off from within the family don’t help – Andrew’s difficulties, or the suggestions of prejudice from Montecito a couple of years ago (now seemingly withdrawn), which prompted William’s most vehement soundbite: ‘We’re very much not a racist family.’

William is maybe a new kind of leader who can keep the monarchy relevant and resonant in the coming decades.

Queen Elizabeth II is a powerful exemplar and memory, but she was of her time. William is his own man.

He must overcome and think beyond ‘the unforgiving minute.’

Indeed, he could seek inspiration in Rudyard Kipling’s poem, If.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch[…]

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

This article was first published in the May 2024 issue, on sale Thursday, 28 March.

[the-fiction-witch]

Water

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Tully Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1029

Jacaerys was forced through the dragon stone corridors, to met with his betrothal. He was to marry her tomorrow morning. He was... feeling both excitement and trepidation. He had dressed himself in his finest clothes and styled his hair carefully, his nerves mingling with anticipation. Arriving at the designated chamber, Jacaerys took a deep breath to steady himself before raising his hand to knock, the sound echoing softly in the corridor.

A soft voice answered his knock calling him inside.

Jacaerys makes his way into the chamber seeing the fire burning bright, the balcony to the water that surrounds Dragonstone, and most importantly a woman…

She stands by the fireplace watching the flames burn, she has long curls braided intricately for this meeting, and she has eyes that glimmer She wore a gown of deep blue and silver with embroidered waves and scales across the fabric, She turns to him and bows low her eyes on the floor "Prince Jacaerys, of house Velaryon," she greeted

Jacaerys bowed his head in respect, a small smile playing upon his lips.

"The honour is all mine, Y/n," he replied warmly, his eyes taking in the intricate details of her gown. His gaze wandered over the embroidered waves and scales, feeling a familiar sense of admiration for the sea-themed motifs. "You look absolutely lovely, if I may say so. Your gown truly embodies the beauty of the sea."

"I thought it fitting for us, yourself a velaryon. Myself a Tully. We are creatures of the water you And I. But I must admit I'm sure you prefer fire given the Targaryen half of yourself"

Jacaerys chuckled softly, the mention of his Valyrian heritage bringing a hint of a dragon's glint to his gaze. "Ah, yes, the fire in my veins does stir at times," he confessed with a wry smile. "But let me assure you, my Tully betrothed, the water runs strong in me, too. The Velaryons are a sea-faring house, and the salt is just as much a part of my blood as the dragonfire."

"I'm glad, Tully's have a long history of the waterways our castle even known as river run. I hoped water filled both our blood somewhat"

He smiled at her words, his fondness growing for her already. "Then it seems our affinity for the water will bond us further. Our union shall be a true joining of our houses, connecting the sea and the river in the most profound way," he proclaimed, his eyes shining with warmth and a flicker of something more as he gazed at her.

"I can but hope so Prince Jacaerys" she curtsied once more,

"No need for formalities, my Lady," Jacaerys replied softly, extending his hand to her. "We are soon to be married, after all. Let us enjoy these moments together without titles. Just Jacaerys will suffice."

"very well, I suppose it is foolish to have such need for formalities when we are to wed in meer hours." She chuckled "Then just Y/n I insist,"

"Y/n," he echoed gently, his voice laced with warmth. "It suits you."

He then gestured to the window, where the sea stretched out beyond the horizon. "Would you care to join me on the balcony? The fresh evening air could do us both some good." He extended his arm, offering to escort her to the open air.

"I'd be delighted Jacaerys" she nodded taking his arm and happily being escorted like a proper young lady out,

As they stepped out onto the balcony, the cool evening breeze brushed against their skin, carrying with it the salty scent of the sea. Jacaerys leaned against the rough stone of the battlements, his gaze fixed on the moonlit waves in the distance. He turned to Y/n, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile as he noticed how the moonlight seemed to dance in her hair. "Beautiful, is it not?" he said softly.

"it is truly, I admit I have never seen the coast before it is beautiful, dare I ask what is across the way?"

"That," Jacaerys said, pointing towards the moonlit horizon, "That is Essos. Beyond the Narrow Sea. Across those waters lie continents, cities and villages, cultures and people that are worlds different from Westeros." He turned to Y/n, his eyes filled with excitement. "I've always dreamt of exploring beyond the water's edge, exploring the lands our ancestors left behind. Perhaps one day we'll have the chance to see it together."

"I'd like that, I have heard tales of the distant east, of the boiling isles, or ashi, old valyeria and yeen. Such places seem impossible but I suppose I think Dragonstone seemed impossible once" She chuckled

He laughed softly at her words, his heart warmed by her curiosity. "Dragonstone is nothing more than a stepping stone for such grand adventures," he agreed, the spark of wanderlust igniting within his eyes. He reached out to gently tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a moment on the curve of her jaw, his touch as delicate as a feather. "The world is vast and full of wonders, Y/n, and I would be honoured to explore them with you by my side," he said in a low voice, his gaze fixed on hers. His hand, still holding her chin, gently turned her face towards the moonlit sea. "Look at the moonlight dancing on the waves. Don't you think it's as though the water is calling out to us?"

"they do seem to" she nodded "I admit I can somewhat imagine us taking to the water someday, to explore the far east, ship at our command, Vermax flying over head, it seems so perfect"

He nodded thoughtfully, the image she painted of their future adventures taking hold in his mind. "The sound of it is tantalizing, isn't it? The wind in our hair, the spray of the sea, and Vermax soaring above us, leading the way." As they stood on the balcony, he found himself imagining the possibilities. "Perhaps someday we will make that dream a reality," he added with a soft smile, his gaze fixed on the alluring expanse of black waves.

“Perhaps, someday,” she smiled as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze, he smiled back and kissed her hand softly.

[milunalupin]

Could you do some regulus for valentines writing?

thank you for your patience, hope you enjoy :) and happy valentine's day to everyone <3

— candy grams

regulus black x reader ★ 772 words

The end of January was a cold and quiet time at Hogwarts. The holiday cheer has gone and winter truly makes itself known. Regulus Black found himself sitting in a empty nook in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, going over his Ancient Runes essay. Shoes squeaked floors below as the other students ran outside to play. Fluffy snowflakes fell past the tall windows, Regulus' eyes flickering out the window every few minutes to watch the snowfall. If he allowed himself to, he might admit to liking this time of year. Winter meant cozy sweaters and hiding out in his dorm, reading muggle poetry books charmed to look like a spell book.

The chattering and laughter of students exiting their classes began to fill the halls, Regulus sighing softly as his peace and quiet had come to an end. He collected his things and stored them back in his satchel, making his way down the stairs past the Charms classroom. The way down to the Slytherin common room was a longer one but Regulus took his time as he was in no hurry.

A girl with a white ribbon in her hair rushed past him, but stopped and turned when she realized he was there, a smile quickly making it's way onto her face. Regulus had seen her around, a muggleborn witch with an affinity for all magical things.

"Hi! Sorry to bother you, I know you may be on your way to class or something important, but I'm selling candy grams for the upcoming holiday if you're interested in one?"

Candy gram? What the hell was a candy gram? Regulus supposed this is that 'dumb lovey muggle shit' Barty was talking about the other day. Walburga would be nothing less than disgusted if she found out he spent a single knut on a muggle object. He gives her a weird look and shook his head, declining silently.

"No worries! Have a lovely day!"

Her pretty smiled faltered but it came back up just as quick as it fell. She waved at him before dashing back down the stairs.

Regulus blinked, feeling his chest tighten slightly, shaking it off and continuing his path down to the dungeons.

Days have passed an Regulus is still wondering what a candy gram is. His mind continues to wander back to the girl and the ribbon in her hair as he leaves his last class of the day, spotting his brother's friend walking alone down the hall. He looked around to make sure no one of importance was watching him and quickly caught up to the tall Gryffindor.

"Lupin."

Remus turned in surprise as his best friend's little brother stands beside him. He notices what he believes to be nervousness masked by his composed stature.

"Regulus, can I help you?"

"What's a candy gram?"

Now Remus is truly confused. Why has Regulus Black stopped him and asked him what a candy gram is? He must have been making a strange face because Regulus glared up at him and crossed his arms.

"You're a half bre- blood, aren't you? If you don't know, then just forget any of this happened." He scoffed, waving his hand dismissively and turning to walk away. He only made it halfway down the hall when Remus called after him.

"It's for Valentine's Day. You buy candy for someone you care about, usually your friend, partner, or a crush."

Regulus' ears burn Gryffindor red as he walks away silently.

Regulus sees her again a week later. She had just returned from the Hogsmeade trip, white snowflakes sprinkled in her hair. Checking his surroundings, he carefully walked up to her as she spelled the snow off of her, quickly fixing his hair.

"Would you still happen to be selling those candy grams?" He asked, entranced by the small hairs framing her face that started to curl due to the snow.

"Absolutely! They're 15 sickles." She beamed, digging through her bag and pulling out a piece of candy with a little card attached. He handed her a few coins and opened the card up, following her finger as she pointed to two lines on the inside.

"You just write your name here, and then the person you're giving it to, here."

He stared down at the empty lines, then back at her with a small smile.

"I'm going to have to get your name then."

Her eyes widened, and Regulus had hoped it wasn't just the cold that turned her cheeks pink. Safe to say he's found another reason to like this time of year, and she wore a white ribbon in her hair.

[wiz-writes]

In Aesemyr: The Withering (previously named A Rhapsody in Blue) you play as a mage trying to rein in their erratic powers while embarking on a quest to discover a plot years in the making. Yet as dark clouds gather on the horizon, you quickly realise that the coming storm seems to bring with it something much worse.

Genre: fantasy, adventure, romance

Rating: 16+ for some dark themes

Last update: 16 November 2024 (123k words)

Play as a man, woman or non-binary.

Customise your appearance and shape your personality.

Follow the teachings of a specialised Way and gain access to different skill sets.

Find romance with one of the ROs; or choose to stay as friends.

Investigate the elven presence in the capital and discover how it relates to the accident that nearly cost you your life.

Unearth a secret that might shake the foundations of the kingdom you call home.

Protect yourself and those you care about, lest they suffer a bitter end.

Retain your hold on your magic; or let it corrupt you beyond repair.

Magic comes with a price.

That is an inevitability every mage has to face. But when you lose your powers in a freak accident, you are certain that the price has been paid in full.

You settle down in the peaceful countryside, far away from any conflicts or conspiracies, all the while focusing on your recovery. And for two years, your life is quiet.

However, when an untimely visit forces you on a path not of your own choosing and magic itself seems intent on corrupting you, you must once again rely on your training to keep yourself and those you care about safe.

The presence of elves in the capital brings nothing but ill tidings and as yet another storm brews in the distance, you set off on a journey to discover the truth of your accident and a plot that could bring the kingdom to its knees.

The Withering approaches, and with it, a reckoning for all the world.

DEMO

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Main romances:

Valia Kainen (F, 28)

Having met at the Academy, you've known Valia for more than a decade, so it's no surprise she now occupies the seat of the Academy's Headmistress - her rise through the ranks often attributed to both her exceptional skills and ruthlessness. Despite her cold exterior, she is mainly driven by love for her family and kingdom. While she’s no longer the girl you used to know, some things still remain the same; her dislike of you being one of them.

Lucenis Veldari (M, 32)

As the younger brother of the King, Lucenis tends to keep his distance from royal affairs. He is well-known to the general populace as a poet with a gentle soul and quiet disposition. Though there have been many rumours throughout the years about him and his mother, none have ever been proven true. He is a good friend of Valia and your twin brother.

Tevshedi “Tev” Zanue (F/M, 36)

Tev is a well-travelled mercenary and a seasoned warrior that has decided to leave their life of wandering the world behind and instead, work as Lucenis' personal bodyguard. Good humoured and loyal to a fault, their natural charisma has helped them establish various connections among both the common folk and nobility.

Cerin Melista (F/M, 25)

A part-time librarian and a soon-to-be university professor, Cerin is a person with an outgoing personality and boundless enthusiasm for the things they love, particularly history. Being a passionate collector of ancient relics, they possess a dauntless spirit, which often lands them in dangerous situations.

?? (non-binary, 30)

Several years ago, they came to study at the Academy, their affinity to psychic magic envied by many. Lyyra became their new home, the people they met their new family. They are quick to grin and joke, but their eyes always seem to be haunted by shadows both past and present.

Side romances (= you'll see them less often than the above characters):

Mara (F, 31)

A silver-masked miracle physician willing to help anyone in need in exchange for utmost secrecy. Nobody is certain of her true identity as she disappears without a trace each day.

?? (M, ??)

An elusive figure that seems to be fascinated with your magical powers.