#i assume we can blame baring-gold for this one also?? seems like his style

[keepthemacramesecret]

now that i think abt it, i think the reason im always a bit eyeroll-y at the adoption of 'Violet' as a name for Holmes' mother purely based on its repetition as the name of a few clients is that actually it would be a very sweet and clever move for Watson. He's the one writing and choosing pseudonyms!! Why would it be Holmes' relative that gets a tribute??

[angel-thoughts-dump]

here’s some goading you to talk about angel and clothes for hours 🙏

adsfsafd my pleasure!

being serious tho, I don't think I have anything new to add that hasn't been said before, but I mean I could talk for hours bc the subject fascinates me! Looking at angel's clothes is a good tool to interpret his emotional state, and he is a character that goes through a lot of states in the course of the show.

this got long ofc so I'm putting it below the cut

First let me say, Angel gives me the vibe of a person that as a little kid loved to play dress up with the clothes of his family, because secretly he loves acting and drama and art, and I think his father saw him one time with something of her mother on, and he screamed and unloaded his rage on him "a man is not supposed to do/wear that!" and well, this added to Liam's issues in the long term.

Ok, but that's just my head canon, what we do see in those few flashbacks before he got turned is that he is wearing a normal sort of outfit for the times, but he is usually wearing it in a messy way. He knows what he is supposed to wear, but he refuses to wear it right, just like all the other staff he knows he should be doing as a good man in the eyes of his father, but he refuses to do.

In this stage Angel is acting as a revel but only to a point that's not scary for him.

He was a big and healthy man, he could have run away from the town if he wanted to see the world, or joined a sort of boxing club if he liked to fight, or wore her mother's stuff if he didn't like his clothes, but that kind of rebelliousness takes more courage than he had, it also means taking himself more seriously, and it seems like until this point no one - not even himself - did. He lacked that confidence, so instead of trying to change hard things he didn't like, he chose escapism with sex and alcohol. He wore the clothes in a messy way, yes, but still in the same style he was supposed to.

Another thing to note is that Angel and Spike, wore light tones before getting turned, and then started to wear more dark colors and black.

Above that, Angel also starts to dress more elegant and sharp, and I'm totally blaming the need to impress Darla and exude power for this one.

The thing is Darla cares just as much, if not more, about clothes, style, and image as Angel. She probably had little choice about them in her life because of her profession and lack of money, so I like to think as a vampire she enjoyed wearing luxurious things, and of course the partner she made for herself had to get on track with the plan! it's funny, in the flashbacks you can easily assume they were color coordinating:

His red vest for her red dress. His black suit and dark blue scarf for her deep purple dress with black details. His greenish vest for her green dress. His gold vest for her gold dress

But one thing I'm sure of is Angel LIKES clothes and thinking about style/image... Even if Darla was the mastermind after this, I'm sure he enjoyed it and even learned from it.

Then after he gets his soul and becomes overwhelmed with guilt we see he barely cares anymore, it looks like he just grabs the simplest cheapest inconspicuous clothes available and runs with it. This gets worse when he tastes blood again and hates himself so much he starts living on the streets, avoiding absolutely everyone, he doesn't care about clothes OR being clean then

[ sidenote for his hair OH GOD when he was born it was normal to have long hair for a man, and he had a beautiful long hair! In the flashbacks as Angelus we see him keep it and just style it different depending on the times. But it looks like he cuts it really short, shortly after getting his soul back.

I can totally imagine his dramatic ass having a Mulan scene cutting his own hair while "not" looking in the mirror -also cursing himself for that- and being like "I don't deserve my long beautiful hair after all I did!!... And its not even in style any more btw".

But then like 100 years go by and having long hair as a man is normal again, and being that he successfully avoided so many years of evil doing, maybe he gets comfortable enough to grow it back in the 70's (but look at the horrors. I guess he forgot how to take care of it properly). THEN he tastes blood again -> hates himself more -> cuts his hair short again.

Then the first thing he does when he jumps into a dimension where he has a reflection is worry about his hair, lol He cares a lot about hair too]

Lets keep going. Sunnydale:

Angel gets some funding and a purpose, I think you mentioned this in your own post, he goes to get clothes directly out of a sexy male model magazine from 90s lmao. In my mind he is using the same logic as when he first got his soul back: grab the simplest cheapest inconspicuous clothes available and run with it, except! this time the objective is not to be inconspicuous and totally blend in the crowd, but to get this stylish teen girl to trust him.

I love the ep Lie to me, among other things, because it has one of my fave jokes with Angel(I don't mean that ugly brown shirt lol, but that's a plus). He goes to the club where a bunch of teens are pretending to be vampires, and he finds one dressed exactly like himself! This kid, that knows nothing of actual vampires, was able to deduce an old as fuck person who wants to blend in would probably look at those same magazines. So even if its not obvious you can still asume a lack of care about his outfits.

One thing to note is that Angel never stops wearing black and dark colors when he gets his soul back, and it makes all the sense in the world as a symbol, he is still a vampire, dangerous, intimidating, with a dark past. The soul doesn't make him Liam again. Same with Spike.

(also I just noticed how funny it was that the first thing Angelus did when he returned was literally change clothes in front of Buffy. He just changed personalities in front of her when he lost his soul, and now he was literally changing again, putting on his dark shirt in front of her as he told her lies to hurt her. ok . nice)

Then Angelus is the fun part. It's obvious that he shares the same brain, tools, knowledge and Taste, as Angel, but because of the "not caring about anything but having fun making others suffer" part, he has less repression! and because of that hard tendency in the buffyverse to have bad guys wear dark eyeliner, I can totally say Angel likes to wear make up, but he only allows himself to do that with no soul!

But not only that, we also see him experiment with textures, and sometimes flashy things like that weird belt in the s2 finale, and wearing more expensive materials like the silk shirts, plus rings and dare I say more fruity gestures? lmao call that old tv homophobia the way they would only let villains act kind of gay, but I'm a young bi woman from the now and I totally get to say those are also Angel´s gestures with less repression on them. I mean, he is finally being more expressive with his gestures in general instead of being a wall all the time, and he does this ?? this limp wrist thing and others ugh this single shot drives me insane

the way even Cordelia took notice of this

And if Angelus wasn't proof enough consider the way he was so eager to go undercover and pull a flashy shirt, like the Hawaiian shirts he seems to keep in his car for emergencies ??

And this time... those were his clothes... the other guy he was replacing wore something else

And if that wasn't enough, Cordy says this after Angel buys her clothes :

He likes flashy colors and clothes and style so much its unreal, but at the same time he is repression man ! So what he does is usually keep it simple. Simple and practical while tsill looking good.

After he gets his own show(maybe just after he and Buffy break up) he is more authentic in what he wears, goodbye male model magazines. Even if more boring or simple, his style is also more mature. He is struggling but on his way to building some self estime. He wears simple dark clothes of soft materials and usually a nice black leather jacket... you can tell he doesn't allow himself to have as much fun as he probably wants, but the simple clothes he has - as Cordy says- hung well on him.

Ok one last comment because God this is too long already.

I see Angel wearing expensive clothes as a way to symbolize corruption. He wore expensive clothes for the first time because of being turned and groomed by Darla, when he gets his soul back he never thinks of that again, and when he looses it with Buffy Angelus starts wearing more jewels and things made of silk, is season 3 and after in his own show he only starts wearing expensive suits once he makes in s5 the deal with the devil basically, but once he goes against them in the end he is wearing his common clothes again.

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Just One Night [G.W]

description: George is out for his stag party and you’re out for your hen night, but the two of you just can’t seem to stay away from each other.

pairing: George Weasley x Reader

word count: 5.8k 

warnings: very light smut, oral sex, alcohol

taglist: @p0gues4l @amourtentiaa  (let me know if you want to be added!)

                                                           X

“George, it’s just one night. We’ll be fine,” you said as you finished packing your bags.

“Y/N, we haven’t spent a night apart since you finished at Hogwarts,” he pouted, as he lounged across the bed, watching your every movement.

“I repeat, it is one night. I think we’ll survive.” You didn’t want to admit to George that you’d miss him this one night, even though it was the truth. If you gave him an inch of indecision, he would convince you not to go at all, and this was not a night you wanted to miss. After all, it was your hen night. 

He sulked some more and you added, “George you will have a wonderful time out with the boys tonight and you’ll forget all about me.”

“Impossible,” he smiled. You shook your head as you zipped up your suitcase. George had moved from the bed and was now standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Don’t leave me darling,” he whispered in your ear. You took a deep breath, finding it difficult to resist him. He started kissing your neck and you breathed in, “George…”

Before you realized what happened, George had you pinned down to the bed and his lips were locked on yours. Both your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands caressed your torso. Before things got too heated, you pulled away.

“George I really need to go,” you whispered.

He smiled and gazed into your eyes, “You can be a little late.” You couldn’t help but smile and his lips found yours again as he began peeling off your clothing. Moments later you were both exposed and you were straddled on top of George. After some mutual foreplay, you were both ready for things to get more intimate. You positioned yourself on his shaft and started slowly rocking back and forth, planting gentle kisses on his chest and neck. You increased your pulses as your breathing quickened and several small moans escaped from your lips. George smiled, getting off on your pleasure and he placed his hands on your hips, quickening your rhythms. 

George suddenly changed the pace, pushing you backwards so that he was on top of you. Your head was just barely off the edge of the bed, giving you the feeling of lightheadedness. George sucked on your neck as he thrust deeper inside of you. You felt your fingertips starting to tingle, knowing you were nearing a climax. 

“Oh George,” you breathed, running your fingernails across his bare back. He continued at his pace as your back arched and you started to orgasm. You felt George cum inside of you as his full body weight crashed on top of you. You laid there motionless for a moment, both of you catching your breath and recovering from your intimate moment. You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Georgie.”

“You know you aren’t supposed to say that after sex, dear.”

“I know, but it’s true and I don’t want you to forget it.” He lifted his head from your chest and kissed you lightly on the lips. You let out a big sigh and said the words you knew he was dreading, “I do really need to go now.”

“I know, I know. I won’t fight you this time. Have a lovely night with the girls and don’t forget about me.”

“Now you know I could never do that. Enjoy your night out as well. I want to hear all the stories tomorrow morning.”

“Yes of course, love. Now get going before Hermione apparates over here to retrieve you.”

You magically summoned your clothes and ran a finger through your hair to gussy up. “I love you,” you smiled as you apparated.

“Love you more!” You heard him shout as you were transported to London. 

                                                           X

“Y/N! There you are! We thought you’d changed your mind.” Hermione said, as she embraced you in a warm hug.

“Oh no, nothing like that. Just got caught up packing,” you lied as a slight blush crept up your cheeks. You hugged Ginny and Angelina, and to your surprise, Fleur. You had invited her out of courtesy, assuming she wouldn’t be interested, yet here she was. Hermione had booked you all a suite in a luxury hotel in the center of London. Her parents had some connection at the hotel and managed to get the room for you free of charge. You told the girls you wanted to do something different for your hen party and Hermione suggested you go out in London and explore some of the muggle bars, where you wouldn’t run into any familiar faces. You were a little enamored with the idea, as it seemed like you knew everyone in the local wizarding community. Venturing into London also gave George more freedom to bar hop along the usual spots. You imagined he would spend some time with Madame Rosmerta in the Three Broomsticks before returning to some of the bars in Diagon Alley. You and George both loved having a good time with friends, but it wasn’t often that you went out without one another. You were excited to have your girls’ night, but you knew you would miss George’s presence.

“Come on now, get changed. We’ve got dinner reservations!” Ginny urged. You found an empty room in the suite and magically unpacked the bag you had brought, evaluating your options. You had brought a selection of white dresses, all of different cuts and styles. After magically curling your hair, you selected a long sleeved white v-neck dress with a twirly, skater skirt. The top was made from lace that was sheer and snug around your arms. The flirty skirt was the perfect combination of classy, yet fun. You put on long gold chain earrings and a pair of gold heels. You stepped out of the room and found your friends all dressed in beautiful black dresses. 

“Shall we save the sash and the willies for the bar then?” Hermione said, holding up a bachelorette sash and some decorative penises. You burst out laughing and nodded, wanting to save the attention for the bar scene. With that you grabbed your things and headed out for dinner.

                                                             X

“I wonder what Y/N’s doing right now…” George said, falling distracted yet again.

“I’d say at this point she’s probably getting a lap dance from a male stripper dressed as a bobby,” Ron stated. Harry and Lee let out chuckles.

George snapped out of his daze and responded, “Is that where they’ve gone?”

“No, you wanker. I’m only joking,” Ron replied. 

“You need another beer,” Lee added, flagging down Madame Rosmerta. “Mate, this is one of your last nights as a single man. Stop harping over Y/N.”

“I know, you’re right. I just don’t like being apart from her.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re getting married,” Bill said, bringing a pitcher of beer for the group.

“Is this how you were with Fleur?”

“Sure. I never liked being away from her, especially when times were darker. I was so afraid that if we were separated I’d never see her again. Now I don’t have to worry so much about that, which makes it easier to be away. “

“George, if there’s one thing I know about you and Y/N, it’s that you can make it through anything. I don’t have a doubt in my mind that you two are meant to be together. Now, can you stop pouting over her and get drunk with us?” Ron commented. George couldn’t help that Y/N was his focus point of the night and he didn’t want to be a downer when his mates were all there to have a good time with him. He decided to try and shift his focus on the night ahead. He wanted to have stories to tell Y/N, knowing she would be enjoying herself tonight and would be eager to share her memories with him.

George responded to Ron’s comment by raising his glass and downing the fresh beer. All the guys cheered him on and started to get a little rowdy, preparing to finally get the night started.  

                                                            X

“Okay, give me a little bit of a break before the next shot,” you stated, letting the lemon drop shot settle just a bit. Dinner had ended and you had reached your first bar. It was very modern, with dim lighting and lots of sleek furniture. After some convincing, you had finally agreed to wear the bright pink sash. The girls convinced you that wearing it might get you a few rounds of drinks on the house, and so far they were correct. When the bartenders weren’t giving you free drinks, bar patrons were eager to treat you to a round after testing out their best pick up lines on the group. You didn’t hate the attention, but you would’ve preferred to be flirting with your husband to be.

You made rounds around the bar, moving between the bar itself and a comfortable table in the corner. Ginny soon convinced the four of you to head out on to the dance floor to let loose a little. You were feeling more than a buzz from the numerous rounds of shots and drinks and thus, you were easily convinced to go dance. Fleur and Angelina seemed to be willing to follow the group, but Hermione was the challenge, acting as your babysitter tonight.

“You all go dance and I’ll sit here and save the table for us,” she offered.

“Hermione….come on. Come have fun with us!” you contested

“Honestly, you all go out. I’ll come join you in a bit.” 

You were close to arguing further with her, however Ginny dragged you out on the club floor. Once again, you received looks from all the surrounding gentlemen. You couldn’t blame them, you were a group of good looking ladies. Thankfully, none of the admirers approached you, seeing as most of you were taken. It was then that it occurred to you to check on Hermione. You told the other girls you were grabbing a drink of water and would be back momentarily. Hermione seemed distracted but her face lit up when she saw you approach.

“Hi, are you having a great time?” she asked.

“I am, thank you for putting this all together for me. But I do wish you’d come have fun with us.”

She looked down before responding, “I’ll come join you in a bit.”

You furrowed your brow, “Hermione, is everything all right?”

She looked conflicted, which was unsettling. “It’s fine,” she said unconvincingly. “This is your night, I don’t want to make it about me.”

“So what if it’s my night, you’re upset about something. You’ve put so much work into this for me and I want to make sure you have a good time as well. So get on with it, what’s the matter?”

“I’m not sure it’s necessarily a bad thing, I’m just feeling a little nervous and unsure about things.”

“Is this about Ron?”

“Em, yeah a bit. I mean, things with him are great, better than I expected actually. It’s just…” she hesitated. You put your hand over hers to comfort her. She leaned toward you and whispered into your ear, “I think I might be…pregnant.”

“Hermione,” You responded with a surprised smile on your face. You instinctively wrapped your arms around her in a tight hug. “Is this a good thing?”

She giggled a little, “Yeah, I think so. You’re the first person I’ve told and now thinking about it’s made me very excited.”

“Ron doesn’t know yet?” you asked.

“I haven’t figured out the best way to tell him yet. You know how emotional he gets. I think maybe after the wedding. I don’t want to take away your spotlight.”

“Well I’m extremely excited for you. I promise I won’t tell a soul until you choose to announce it, not even George. And please let me know if you need anything at all.”

“I will, and I’m sorry that this is all coming up tonight. I didn’t mean for it to come out this way.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I just want to make sure you’re having a lovely time as well. Now come join us on the dance floor,” you took her hand and dragged her out to join the remainder of your group. The girls cheered as they saw you returning and you saw Ginny run off to fetch a round of shots.

                                                            X

“Oy, can we get out of here already? Madame Rosmerta’s staring me down…” Ron stated. He had just knocked over a few pints with his drunken storytelling and it was evident Madame Rosmerta was finished with the group’s antics.

“To Diagon Alley?” George suggested. The boys all agreed and they closed out the tab although their tab at the Three Broomsticks was never really settled. They owed Madame Rosmerta so much over the years. They all huddled together outside and apparated to the familiar street George called home. The boys found themselves in front of the shop. The lights inside were out and George could barely see the products lining the wall. He left the light on outside not only to assist him in getting home tonight, but just in case your plans changed and you ended up coming home.

Diagon Alley was bustling, like it had been previously. Except now it was home to more bars than shops. During the dark time, many of the shops closed down. How the joke shop managed to survive was a surprise to everyone. People seemed to need a place to escape and forget about the state of the magical community. They found solace in the joke shop, as well as the bar. Several pubs began popping up along the strip and once those that threatened the magical world were defeated, the pubs stuck around. You and George had made yourselves familiar with many of the bartenders in town, coming out for the occasional nightcap and sharing stories and laughs. It had been a while since George had been out with a rowdy group though. The boys fit right in with the weekend crowd, all witches and wizards letting loose and enjoying each other’s company. George offered to pick up the next round of drinks, despite several protests from his brothers and friends, while the guys found a table big enough to fit the group.

“Well, well, well…look who it is. How are ya, George? What can I get for you tonight?” Salvador asked. He was one of the bartenders you and George were very familiar with at this particular bar. He told you both stories about his experience growing up in the magical realm of Spain. 

“Just a pitcher of beer and a handful of glasses,” George ordered. Salvador quickly prepared the pitcher and the stack of glasses.

“What brings you out tonight? You don’t normally make an appearance on a bustling Saturday night.”

“It’s actually my stag night. The boys have dragged me out to get drunk and ogle random women.”

“You don’t say. So no Y/N tonight?”

“Sadly no. Missing her like crazy though.”

“I can imagine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two apart.”

“It happens very seldom. But I’ll survive without her for a few more hours.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“A few weeks from now. It almost seems silly because we basically are married as it is. But we wanted things to be official.”

“Well congratulations my friend! This round is on the house. Enjoy your night.”

“Thanks Sal,” George brought the beer back to the table and felt himself finally starting to get a little bit buzzed. Typically he held his alcohol pretty well, but it wasn’t often that he engaged in binge drinking. This was the first time he felt himself getting drunk in a long time.

                                                          X

After what seemed like hours of dancing and kind strangers buying rounds of drinks, you all settled down at the bar, trying to regain your balance somewhat. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this drunk. You and George were casual drinkers. You had a drink a night, but you never got overly drunk, unless it was a special occasion. And while it was flattering to have all this male attention, you were seriously missing your partner in crime. 

Fleur was sitting next to you at the bar and while you were waiting on your next round of drinks, she put her arm on your shoulder and leaned close to you. “Come to the bathroom with me?” she asked.

You nodded and embarked, as the others flirted with the latest round of onlookers. Fleur grabbed your hand and you scurried off. This was unique for you. You and Fleur had always been civil but you wouldn’t say you were ever close. You accepted each other because you realized you would one day be related. The only things you really had in common was your involvement with the Weasleys.

Once in the bathroom, you were alone and you saw Fleur reach for her purse to touch up her makeup.

“Y/N, thank you so much for inviting me. I’m having such a wonderful time and I’m just happy to be a part of this.”

Her sentiment was sweet and your drunken state got the best of you. You gave her a hug and said “Of course Fleur. I’m happy to have you here. Thank you for coming.”

“You and George are completely perfect together. I honestly can’t wait to officially welcome you to the family.” 

‘Thank you Fleur. I can’t wait either. Honestly being apart from him tonight has been tough.”

“I understand. I miss Bill too.”

“I wonder what the boys are up to tonight.”

“Oh, they’re in Diagon Alley. At The Den or something like that.”

The Dragon’s Den. It was one of the local bars you and George frequented. You smiled, knowing he was likely having a wonderful time with the boys.

“Y/N, come with me.” She took your hand yet again and a moment later you were apparating. Before you realized what had happened, you were in The Den.  Crowds of people were lined around the bar as you stood in the vacant hallway.

“Fleur! We shouldn’t be here!” you whispered through a giggle.

“Nonsense, we’ll only be a moment. Now stay here, out of sight.” She sauntered into the room and you saw her sneak up behind Bill at a high top table. The other guys seemed to be invested in something else and didn’t notice her. She kissed him several times and then whispered in his ear. The two turned toward your direction, with brilliant smiles. Fleur snuck away from Bill as he rejoined the group of guys. You saw him pat George on the shoulder and pull him away from the crowd. Moments later you saw George head your way with a puzzled look on his face. You hid in the hallway so you wouldn’t be spotted and soon enough you felt his presence nearby.  

He turned the corner and didn’t notice you right away. He looked like a confused and lost puppy, looking without a purpose.

“Psst…” you finally said to capture his attention. He turned around and his face lit up when he saw you.

“Darling!” he smiled as he picked you up. He planted several kisses on your lips and said, “What are you doing here? You’re breaking the rules! You should be getting drunk with your friends.”

“I’m full of surprises,” was all you offered.

“I’m so happy to see you. I hope you’re having a great time tonight.”

“I am but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, kissing you again. “How did you pull this off anyway?” he said, still holding you in his arms.

“It was all Fleur actually. I didn’t even know where she was taking me. Suddenly we apparated and ended up here.”

“Well I’m very glad she snuck you here.”

“Me too,” you smiled up at him. He kissed you some more and it was then you realized he was more than a little drunk. He always got very touchy when he was drinking, which you didn’t mind one bit. He kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear between kisses and you couldn’t stop giggling. You were desperately wishing you could end your night now and head home with George, but you knew soon it would be time to head back to the bar with the girls. 

He suddenly pulled away and smiled down at you, “I can’t believe you came here.”

“I didn’t mean to crash your party, but I just missed you so much.”

“I love that you crashed my party,” he said, before kissing you again. You continued kissing for what seemed like mere seconds before you were broken up by Fleur and Bill.

“Alright mate, you’ve had your fun. Y/N better get back to London before anyone notices she’s missing.”

You both pouted as you said quick goodbyes and before you knew it, you were back in the bathroom where you came from. 

“Fleur, did you have that whole thing planned?” you asked with a smile.

“Oui,” she smiled and flipped her blonde hair behind her shoulder, “Bill and I both knew you’d want to see each other at some point in the night.”

“That was very thoughtful. Thank you,” you smiled and hugged her. She had surprised you tonight. She was invited as a formality, but she had proved that she knew something about you and what would make you happy. 

You quietly returned to your friends, who had barely noticed you were gone. Hermione was perceptive though, and her lack of alcohol didn’t seem to help your case. 

“You were gone a while…” she said with a smirk.

“Oh, long line in the bathroom,” you lied with a smile. She nodded, not believing your bullshit, but she didn’t press you any further. You could see her losing steam quickly and you felt the night begin to wind down. You had another drink or two before you collectively embarked back to the hotel. Hermione helped you navigate the unfamiliar streets as you all giggled together and stumbled in your heels. Upon arriving at the hotel you ordered room service and ate your weight in pizza and chips. Hermione, being ever responsible, forced you all to drink water to minimize your hangovers the next morning. You all knew she was preparing a hangover cure for the morning, so you didn’t take her suggestions very seriously. One by one the girls trickled off to bed until it was just you and Ginny. While you had stopped drinking a little while ago, Ginny popped a bottle of champagne for the two of you, even though you hardly needed it. 

“Y/N, I can’t wait for you to be my sister.”

“Ginny…” you replied, bringing her in close for a hug.

“My whole life I’ve wanted a sister, and now I have three. Although I never felt too close to Fleur, she's growing on me. And Angelina is such a dear, but tough as nails. She’s lived through the circle of life and she doesn’t complain at all. And then there’s you. You’re so happy go lucky and you bring joy to everyone around you. You’re just so calm and level headed all the time. You handle every situation with such grace. When we were growing up, you were my role model. You were so confident and sure of yourself and that was something I struggled with. I always thought of you as an older sister, even when we weren’t super close. And now I feel like I can finally call you my sister.”

“Ginny, you’ve always been a sister to me. And you know I’ll always be here if you need anything.”

“Thanks for being so great. And thanks for everything you’ve done for George. I don’t know if you realize how happy you make him. He never would’ve gotten through everything without you.”

“That really does mean a lot Gin. I can’t imagine my life without him. He’s made me happier than I could ever imagine.”

The conversation dwindled and you both sauntered off to bed. You changed into one of George’s T-shirts that you had brought with you and crawled into bed. You thought bringing this small piece of George would help you through the night, but it only made things worse. You kept smelling his scent on you and all you wanted was to be wrapped in his arms. You tossed and turned in an attempt to get comfortable but nothing was working. You even turned on the television to try and shift your focus to whatever late night show was on, but it didn’t help. After what seemed like hours you gave up trying to fall asleep. You moved to the common area of the suite in search of something to snack on.

To your surprise, Ang was seated at the table with a pack of biscuits open in front of her and a book in her hand.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked you.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept alone. I thought I might enjoy the extra space but…” you trailed off, unable to vocalize your thoughts. “What about you?”

“I’m okay, I just miss little Freddie. I know Molly’s taking good care of him, but it’s still hard to be away.”

“I hear that…the funny thing is, I was the one who brought this up. George didn’t want to spend the night apart but I insisted because it was tradition. And now I’m regretting it because I miss him laying next to me at night.”

“You should go to him,” she said, passing you a biscuit.

“What?”

“Go home and surprise him. Everyone else is asleep, they won’t mind if you sneak home.”

“It would be kind of fun to surprise him…are you sure?”

“Sure, do what makes you happy. But before you go, let me give you your bachelorette gift.”

“Ang you didn’t have to get me a gift.”

“Oh but of course I did. And now you can get some use out of it tonight.” She brought out a pink box tied with a black bow. You quickly pulled the bow loose and opened the box. Inside was a lacy black bra and matching thong. “I hope you like it. I know you like simplicity so I didn’t want to get you anything that was too much.”

“It’s perfect,” you smiled. You felt the booze come back to you again as you started to feel giddy on the inside. This was unpredictable which was something you weren’t great at. You tried on the lingerie and showed it off to Angelina. She gave you the compliments needed to increase your confidence. You threw on the long trench coat you had brought in case of rain and slipped on the gold heels you had been wearing earlier in the night.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you smiled to yourself in the mirror, as you touched up your hair and makeup. The action wasn’t completely wild, but it was out of character for you. You just kept thinking about how George would react and the thought of being with him brought a smile to your face.

“Go have some fun,” Ang said as she gave you a hug.

‘Thanks for helping me do this.”

“What are sisters for,” she grinned. After one more glance you apparated to Diagon Alley. 

                                                            X

You landed outside the shop and unlocked the door, careful to disarm the alarms before they sounded. Once inside, you locked the shop door and walked up the steps to the apartment. You stood at the front door, wondering how to best play this situation out. Even though you had a key to the apartment, you found yourself knocking on the door. George was a light sleeper so even if he was in bed, the knocking would wake him up.

You heard footsteps across the hardwood floor and tried to maintain your composure. The door swung open and you saw George’s tired face try to comprehend what was happening. 

“Special delivery,” you said with a coy smile. His tired eyes widened as a grin spread over his face.

“How did I get so lucky,” he smiled at you. A moment later his lips were on yours, kissing you tenderly. You stayed in the doorframe for a moment before he pulled you inside.  You managed to pull away for a moment and you pushed him back into the kitchen table.

“Sit,” you instructed. He quickly turned a kitchen chair to face you and sat down. You sauntered across the room and took a deep breath. With your back turned to him you used your wand to turn on the radio in the kitchen, which began to play some slow R&B. You turned around to face George and slowly started to take off the trench coat, first untying the belt then slowly undoing every button, taking a step forward with each button undone. Once the coat was completely unbuttoned, you dropped your shoulders and let it slip to the floor.

You weren’t sure what was coming over you; perhaps it was the last few glasses of champagne you shared with Ginny. You were never one to be overly dominant and in control. But you knew George was enjoying himself. His eyes were locked on you and he was taking in deep breaths. His face gave you the confidence you needed to continue.

You continued toward George and found yourself circling around his chair. You placed your hands delicately on his shoulders and slid your hands down his chest. You planted sweet kisses up his neck, gently sucking on his soft skin. When you reached his ear you tugged on his lobe with your teeth, slowly pulling until his skin slipped through your chiclets.  

“Oh Merlin…Y/N…” he whispered.

“Shhh….” you said, placing your finger over his lips. You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before quickly changing positions. You slung your leg across him so that you were straddled across his lap. 

You ran your fingers through his ginger hair before tracing his jawline with your knuckles. His hand was gently resting on your waist, but you casually slid it down past your hips, giving him access to your ass. Once again, you moved your lips to his neck and started slowly gyrating your hips on his lap. He tightened his grip on your backside and you moved from his neck to his lips. He quickly accepted your tongue into his mouth and you could taste his hunger, but you wanted to make sure you prolonged this experience for him. You slowly pulled away as he looked longingly at you. You failed to hide the sly smile that was slowly spreading across your face. You quickly unhooked your bra and gracefully flung it to the side. George let out a deep breath and you took that as a sign to continue. You pulled his shirt over his head and planted kisses down his neck and chest. You carefully slid down off his lap and knelt on the ground as you fished out his member from his sweatpants. You began massaging his shaft with your hand before taking him into your mouth. You heard him exhale, clearly enjoying himself as you continued to pleasure him. George was typically a giver in bed, so he wasn’t used to having all the attention on him. You only hoped he was enjoying himself and that you made him feel special. After a series of moans, George ran his fingers through your hair and pulled you up towards him. He placed you back on his lap and cupped your face in his hand.

“What are you doing to me, Y/N?” he said with a smile on his face.

“I just want to give you a stag night that you’ll never forget.”

“Well you are certainly succeeding,” he said, planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

“And now we are going to move to the bedroom where we will make love for the rest of the night.” You kissed him on the lips and stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. Before you could lead him toward the bedroom, he picked you up so that you were facing him with your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs wrapped around his torso. He quickly found your lips and carried you toward the bedroom with a sense of urgency.

                                                             X 

“That was…wild,” George said, catching his breath. Your head was resting on his chest and you were struggling to breathe regularly.

“That’s a good way to put it,” you muttered. He chuckled lightly before tightening his embrace around your bare shoulder. 

“I can’t wait to marry you,” he said, kissing your forehead.

“Just three short weeks until I can call you my husband.”

“That is entirely too long.”

“Would it be crazy if we got married tomorrow?” You were kind of spewing off without thinking, but after you spoke you started considering this more and more.

He let out a big sigh, “Y/N, we’ve had this conversation before. I know you don’t want a small wedding.”

“Okay, but hear me out. We can still have the party and the wedding we planned out with everyone. But we’ll just already be married. It’ll be like our little secret.”

“You seriously want to do this?” he asked.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. And then this way it takes some of the pressure off of the big day. Who cares if things don’t go perfectly. We’ll already be married.”

“I’m having a hard time coming up with a counter argument.”

“Do you want to marry me tomorrow?” you asked. You sensed some hesitation from him and you wanted to ensure this was something he wanted.

“Y/N, I’ve wanted to marry you since the day we met. I don’t care what kind of wedding we have, as long as you’re happy. Is this something you really want?”

“Yes. I want to marry you tomorrow and I want it to be our little secret. This is for us, not for everyone else.”

“If that’s what you want then that’s what we’ll do. Although, I will check in with you tomorrow morning to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

“I can tell you right now, I’m not changing my mind.” George shifted underneath you and then moments later he was on top of you, squeezing you tight. You wrapped your arms around him and planted sweet kisses on his neck.

He popped his head up and looked in your eyes, “I really love you.”

You pecked him on the lips, “I really love you too.” 

[devourer--of--books]

Some time ago (and by “some time” I mean a long ass time, oops) Kate (@pumpkinpaperweight) posted an analysis of gold rush by Taylor Swift tracing parallels to Agatha, which this post is clearly inspired by. 

(Go check that one out after you finish reading this post, it’s really good.)

Ever since, I’ve had an entire tagatha x taylor playlist/unfinished post that I don’t think will ever see the light because I’m too lazy to actually finish it. But now I have some spare time and I noticed that,,,, invisible string wasn’t on it.

And that's cause, well, despite the obvious gold fingerglow motif which is very tagatha … you already read the title of the post. It’s more like my own version of of what I would have had happen post-otk (will my epilogue version ever see the light, I wonder) than anything else, but this is my account, in which I am correct all the time and accept no criticism so,,,,

Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Basically, these first two lines are about how Sophie’s egocentrism isolated her and kept her from making genuine connections with people from very early on, until she becomes friends with Agatha and even after that.

Okay, so have you guys ever seen those tiktoks that are like ‘13-year-old me, in black jeans and sneakers, at the beach, reading a book mYstERioUsLy so that when Harry Styles showed up he’d know I’m dIfFeRenT'?

This is the energy I get here. 

Like, Sophie in the start of book one doing all those ‘good deeds’ so set herself apart in the eyes of the school master hoping that he’d bring her to the school where she would meet *drumroll* The One. 

Most of us have, at some point (I hope, otherwise it was just me and that would be so embarassing), tried and failed to channel that main-character-energy to manifest ourselves into a story much more interesting than whatever is going on in your life at the moment. I feel like at the very core, that’s sort of what Sophie was trying to do? It’s a very juvenile feeling and shows just how little Sophie knew about love overall. Love as it is in fairytale books, as opposed to as it actually is.

She thought herself as above everyone else and thought she was entitled to true, unconditional love, which ended up holding her back and isolating her from everyone in the town, save for Agatha, give or take. 

This mindset is what really keeps her from seeing Tedros (and Agatha, and everyone else) as people, rather than characters in her story, and actually connecting with them on a non-superficial level. 

Teal was the color of your shirt when you were 16 at the yogurt shop

You used to work at to make a little money

I don’t think this part needs much explaining? 

On surface level, Nicola canonically started working at her father’s pub at a very young age to help with family expenses.

If you think about it a little more and contrast it with the previous line, though, it highlights the differences between Sophie and Nicola:

Nic works to help her family, learning responsibility and duty, while Sophie barely ever did anything for her father, both out of vanity (and a superiority complex) and out of spite (which is honestly undeserved all the way up to book 3, when Stefan let Callis die and fucking tried to blame Agatha for returning without Sophie and then guilt-tripped her into going to save her, after which he was dead to me lol). Sophie grew with a princess-like mindset, despite being just slightly better off than Nic, given all the villagers save from Callis and Agatha (due to them being outcasts) seem to have a similar income (with the exception of the beggar which I don’t understand and am probably overthinking about, but honestly, it’s a impossible to leave town and people die on the mill all the time, there's no college or whatever, did none of these assholes offer the beggar a job- I’m getting carried away), while Nicola has to shoulder most of the responsibilities due to her dad being sick.

Also, given the *misogyny* I’d be surprised if Nic didn’t have to do all the housework, as the only girl in her house.  

I doubt that the uniform of the pub was teal and given the book timeline she wouldn’t have been 16 in any instances in which Sophie and her met in Gavaldon, but I digress.

Time

Curious time

Gave me no compasses

Gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

Also kinda self-explanatory in a way?

On one interpretation, it takes Sophie an awful long time to mature and grow into an okay person. She lashed out after Tedros’ rejection because her desire was, when you get down to it, to be loved, even though she didn't understand what love was or how to go about it. She was already loved both by Agatha and by her father but she couldn't see it because the idea of love (romantic, loud, grand-gesture) was so embedded into her, but the clues to it were there all along.

On another, you could argue that Nicola also did not see this coming at all, specially if you consider canon!Nicola rather than fanon!Nicola (why would you, but okay, ignore my Hunter post, go on, stomp on my feelings). Nicola, whose purpose in TCY was to be the new hort-love-interest no one asked for, ending up with her *gag* love-rival? Unexpected, iconic, never done before (never actually done in canon), amazing, mind-blowin-

Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to LA

You ate at my favorite spot for dinner

Bad Blood was a smash hit on Taylor’s career, playing on the radio  non-stop during the 1989 era, arguably her peak in terms of mainstream pop and radio plays.

The Tale of Sophie and Agatha was the equivalent in this context, as it was all the rage in Gavaldon after book 3; Sophie’s persona as the Dean Of Evil is solidified and everyone in The Woods knows who she is and read her tale, including Nicola (who already knew who she was, but now had a another version of her to compare to the version she already knew, which hm, did not favour Sophie either way).

I think it’s kind of fascinating how parasocial relationships work in the context of SGE because like, the storian is there as an omniscient narrator, but it doesn’t write everything. Like, does it just expose what the people in the tale feel and think only if it suits the plot or do the tales look just like the SGE books, in some sort of fourth wall break or is it like an actual children’s fairytale, where you just get told actions and have to sort of assume motivations? How does that affect public opinion? I don’t think most people would be too keen on stanning Sophie after reading The Tale Of Sophie and Agatha (cause damn, Sophie does a lot of questionable shit there) but canonically, they do, despite her being the villain, which is something I have opinions on (do I ever not have opinions on things?).

Like, sure there would be Nevers stanning her, but honestly, if they read the tale, wouldn't they be more likely to stan Hester or even Agatha? Cause Sophie almost got both Evers and Nevers killed, doomed everyone in The Woods for a guy, and was overall a horrible person with no regard for actual Good or Evil as balanced things? Isn’t this why The Coven sided with Agatha, like, I don’t get it- Is it stanning out of fear? Cause that’s the only sort of explanation I have, specially for people in Gavaldon, but that’s something I’ll go deeper into in another time.

Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nic’s first class at SGE was about The Tale Of Sophie and Agatha, given she was originally placed in Evil, due to Dovey and Sophie’s bet, and Evil’s school curriculum was under Sophie’s control, so if you think those classes were anything other than the Sophie-Show, you are wrong.

Now, on to headcanon territory, wouldn’t it be poetic if during her first lunch Nic sat at that tree in the middle of the clearing where Agatha and Sophie used to sit? Not only for ship reasons, but the tree is right in the center, which could relate to how Nic was supposed to be half/half?

Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip getting lunch down by the Lakes

She said I looked like an American singer

It’s a real shame that I don’t remember most of TCY. (But is it really?)

This is kinda of my own personal interpretation of what the OTK epilogue should have been like (and so, it's kind of a spoiler for my ever unfinished rewrite sksnsksn).

Imagine if, instead of that horrid school wedding (kill me now, please), they actually held the respective funerals for all the people lost in the Camelot power-struggle (I’ll take a school funeral, but don’t come at me with school weddings or I’ll lose my shit).

Tedros and Agatha, poor traumatized children, are on their way back to Camelot to try and get stuff back under control and do royal things. Sophie is pretty much on her own, with the remaining faculty of the school, as well as the new kids (yeah, Hort’s staying dead, boo hoo, I’m not sorry sbfhbsdb). Nicola will be returning home to Gavaldon soon, since the school schedule is already messed up beyond repair and everyone is taking some time off anyway. She was only staying there until christmas originally, so might as well.

Public opinion on the main trio is kinda weird at the moment:

Tagatha suffered a coup, then a while laterTedros killed the brother of his usurper, whom had been more popular than him, and well, they do tell people that Japeth killed Rhian, but it’s not like they have receipts? Like, there’s no way to fact check that. They could very well have killed Rhian, we, as bystanders, wouldn’t know? You can bet rumors like these don’t just go away.

And Sophie?

Well, I think public opinion on Sophie was already fear-based rather than coming from a place of admiration for her acts. People aren’t sure of her alliances anymore, and don’t really know how to behave around her so they mainly avoid her. Now that Dovey and Hort are dead and everyone else is resuming their quests, she’ll be pretty much on her own to deal with the aftermatch, which is not only sad, but also probably not healthy. She considers staying with Agatha, but she doesn’t want to add more scandal to the Camelot situation.

So she decides to go back to Gavaldon. Not permanently tho. Just to visit her father and take some time off to decide who could balance her well enough to be appointed as Dean Of Good. 

She'd choose Agatha, but you know, Agatha is kinda busy. Plus, it'd be good to see her father. Watching most of your parental figures drop like flies really puts things into perspective and maybe (just maybe) there's still something to salvage there.

Not many people know she's at Gavaldon, and that's on purpose. For once, Sophie just wants to be left the fuck alone, so she just tries to lay low and not bring unnecessary attention to heself. It's so unlike her to do so that when she walks in to have lunch at Nicola's pub, no one but Nicola even recognizes her.

And if Nicola keeps her company and accompany her on walks, well, it’s no one’s business. Bonding time? Bonding time.

Time

Mystical time

Cutting me open, then healing me fine

Were there clues I didn't see?

You know what these kids need after this Camelot shitstorm? Therapy, that’s what.

There’s no therapy in The Woods, so friendship will simply have to do. Please sir, let these kids heal.

Nicola was dragged to SGE while her father was sick and knew no one there personally, then got dragged again, now into a power struggle where she almost died multiple times, dated a guy, broke up with a guy and I can’t even remember what else but that sounds like a stressful time considering how close together the events from TCY are compared to TSY. What does she want to do now? Will she become a knight? Will she remain in Gavaldon? Does she have to finish school? How have Hunter and her dad been? Whatever went down with her brothers? Why was she important in the first place? Lots to reflect and self-search.

And Sophie. Oh Sophie.

Sophie fell once again for a ‘get-love-’quick’ scheme, not once, but twice! That is not something easy to look in the face and forgive yourself for.

With Rhian, it backfired by hurting everyone she loved, and after the shit Rafal pulled on her, she should have known better. But can you blame her? It’s not like the Rafal thing left her unscratched: you try being in an abusive relationship with a predator, see if you don’t get some trauma. And instead of doing the hard thing and keeping up the work she had been doing on herself she threw her progress out the window the moment Rhian said what she wanted to hear!

After that went belly-up, she at least managed to help her friends, but then later that backfired and she got brain-washed (are we gonna talk about this? disturbing much?). Then, she got fragile enough for her to attempt to find purpose in her life within Hort’s feelings for her, even if she didn’t actually reciprocate those feelings, simply because she was sure of them and they were familiar.

And later, even Hort was taken away from her. 

(Probably for the best, given their attachment had been… precarious, to say the least.)

Therapy, I’m telling you.

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons

Wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

These two would be so good for one another.

I think that being alone when you’re going through something is literally the worst you can do, but when you have someone who just…. gets it, you know? They were there too. They understand. It forms a connection.

After OTK, both of them (Sophie mostly) have enough on their plates for them to go down a dark path to a horrible place. But they don’t. Cause they are here for each other and have their support system to help them.

Does that translate into late nights drinking together after the pub shuts down? Maybe.  Keeping tabs on each other to make sure they’re sleeping and eating right? Yes. Keeping secrets and confessions? You got it.

And then my friends, begins the pining.

Cause, you know, they’re just gals being pals, gals being gay- wait what.

Nicola probably comes to terms with it first, but thinks Sophie is not interested in her like that (she also suspects that Sophie only sees her as Agatha’s stand-in and will drop her eventually once Agatha is no longer in such high demand.) Sophie is, in classic Sophie-fashion, neck-deep in denial, she’s not a lesbian right? she’s boy crazy, she’s not a lesbian-

Except she never felt like this with any of those boys. The only comparison she has is what she feels for Agatha, this feeling of being heard and seen and understood, but-

But Sophie doesn’t want to kiss Agatha.

And in retrospect, she never wanted to kiss anyone like this either.  Tedros who, Rafal who, Rhian who, Hort who, these bitches could never.

Eventually they attend the official tagatha wedding, HELD AT THE CASTLE, as each other’s plus-ones, and well, maybe consider checking my eventual OTK-epilogue for more on this, once it eventually comes out.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart

Now I send their babies presents

Very self-explanatory, Tedros may be Sophie’s favorite ex, but he’s still an ex and they will be killing each other if left unchecked for two long unsupervised.

Nicphie as the tagatha baby godparents. Please, YES.

I’m not gonna go into detail because children make me uncomfortable,  I wish this was a joke, haha, but yes, Sophie and Nic pic the presents together and they attend the baby shower together. Are they dating, are they just married but don’t know it yet? I wonder. They're just together and no one really knows what's going on.

Gold was the color of the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park

Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

You know what’s funny? I didn’t tell you anything between the wedding and the baby shower. Remember how there was an opening for Dean of Good?

Yeah, too late to send in your resumes, position is already filled.

Sophie shows Nic the ropes of being Dean, or at least that’s how she’ll present it, but they’re still sort of figuring it out together. And that's okay.

They spend summers traveling around, christmas in Gavaldon, new years in Camelot and all is well. Their fingerglow colors now match. But it’s, unfortunately not gold.

Time

Wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

And it's cool

Baby, with me

Yeah, it’s fucking purple.

I can’t remember if Nic has a canon fingerglow color, but I don’t really care much for canon, do I? I just really like the imagery of it, so it’s blue and pink mixed together. Because, you know I’m a symbolic bitch.

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Anyway, I am correct, this is the post.

[shinsoukokuvalentine]

20.,things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear?also i love your blog💘

(Thank you for your patience, nonnie-chan! This one took a while, but I’m really happy with the results. As I said before, I had wanted to do a fic like this for a while, so I wanted to be very careful to give it the time and effort it deserved. Thank you for waiting and for your compliments ^^ I’m so happy you love my blog.

This fic can also be found on Ao3, but as tumblr tends to eat posts with links, I’ll make a separate post for it. Also, this is based on the movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It’s really good!)

185/365: Never-Ending Moonlight

I don’t want to forget.

Ryuunosuke’s eyes open blearily. On his bedside table, his alarm beeps, inviting him to wake to an overcast day and piles of snow.

He sits up, shutting off his alarm, rubbing his eyes. He feels more tired than usual, but he doesn’t remember doing anything strenuous yesterday. Or was that what he didn’t want to forget?

With a groan, he throws his covers off and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He doesn’t remember what he didn’t want to forget, of course, making the morning confusing enough without what appear to be tear stains down his cheeks, which he sees once he looks in the mirror.

Ryuu frowns at his reflection. He never cries. He hasn’t cried since he was a child, abandoned on the city sidewalk like a discarded toy, his confused younger sister gripping his hand.

He had grown up quickly.

He sighs. He turns the sink on, washes the tears off his face, combs his hair. He can’t spend the entire morning trying to remember what he didn’t want to forget, and soon the thought’s gone as if it had been washed down the drain.

As he puts his shoes on, he sees that the shelf near the door looks empty, sparse. There’s an open space in the middle that looks like it would be a good place for a couples’ photo.

Ryuu frowns a bit. He moves things around briefly, eliminating the empty space. He doesn’t need any reminders that he’s single.

Standing at the train station, his scarf pulled over the lower half of his face, Ryuu waits in the middle of the bustling crowd. Snow drifts down from the sky again, and the people around Ryuu grumble at it. He closes his eyes and listens, listens to their words, listens to the crunch of snow beneath dozens of feet, listens to the train arriving on the platform below, bound for the coast.

His eyes open. He doesn’t know what prompts him to movie. Maybe he needs a change, a break from his work. But emotion he can’t explain get the better of him, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s moving, running, sprinting, nearly slipping down stairs. The coast. He has to go to the coast today.

Ryuu isn’t sure why. He isn’t sure why he rushes onto that train car before the doors close. He isn’t sure why he’s going in the complete opposite direction of where he should be going, to work, to his job.

Maybe it has something to do with that thing he can’t remember that he didn’t want to forget.

Even this early in the morning, the ports of Yokohama are already noisy, with people shouting back and forth, crates being unloaded, and cargo ships blaring their horns. Ryuu finds a small diner near the train station, away from the noise, but with a view of the ocean outside the window.

He orders an omelette. Something simple, but a breakfast that he rarely gets the chance to have. Not many patrons sit in the diner’s booths, as many people have undoubtedly already begun their jobs, excluding a few elders and a young man sitting a few seats down from Ryuu.

By chance, their eyes meet, and Ryuu quickly looks down at his breakfast. He thinks he hears the other man give a small huff of a laugh. His cheeks red, Ryuu bites into his omelette like he could blame it for the unwelcome feelings stirring in his chest like trapped birds, fluttering around his ribcage and crashing into his heart.

Why do I fall in love with every cute guy I see?

He’s out of there sooner than he’d like, and yet, not soon enough, leaving behind a silver-haired man with bright eyes.

His feet carry him aimlessly, down the coastline and through busy streets. He pauses at the ocean a few times, watches the ships move, listens to the ocean lap at the rocks below. Winds blow in and cause him to tighten his scarf around his face.

Around lunch, he sees him again. That silver-haired man with wide eyes. He stands at the same bus stop as Ryuu, who’s only there because he wanted to get out of the wind. The other man’s on his phone, typing away with fingerless gloves, not looking up until the bus arrives. As if being led by the pull of a magnet, Ryuu follows him on board.

Outside, Yokohama’s gray sky does little to dull the colors of the city’s many shops and people. Ryuu barely notices them. His attention in focused on the man in front of him, the one with silver hair, the one nodding to the beat of whatever song’s playing through his headphones.

The man suddenly looks behind him, and Ryuu looks away just as quickly. But he’s been noticed.

“Hey.”

Ryuu looks up. The man smiles at him in a polite, friendly way. Ryuu doesn’t respond, so the other man speaks up again. “You were the guy in the diner, right?”

Ryuu nods.

The man with silver hair turns more, resting his arms on the back of his seat, facing Ryuu. “I’m Nakajima Atsushi.” He introduces himself so quickly, so fearlessly.

Ryuu’s sunk further into his seat without realizing it. Normally, he wouldn’t have a problem with not saying anything and coming off as rude, but Nakajima draws an answer out of him with one look from those sparkling eyes of his. Oh…They’re two colors. Purple and gold, like miniature sunsets.

“Akutagawa Ryuunosuke,” he says, bowing his head a little once.

Nakajima’s smile doesn’t waver. “I’d never seen you at the diner before. Are you new around here?” Ryuu nods again.

“I’m from a different district,” he says quietly. Nakajima tilts his head.

“So you’ve never been to Tanizaki’s?” he asks. When Ryuu shakes his head, Nakajima’s wonderful eyes widen. “You have to go there for lunch. They have the best ochazuke.”

Ryuu shrugs a bit. Ochazuke sounds good; he hasn’t had a bowl in a while. “Where is it?” He asks.

Nakajima gives a small chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you,” he says quickly, but he suddenly ducks behind the seat a little bit at his own words, like he realized how straightforward he had been. “That is… If you don’t mind going with me. I would completely understand if you didn’t want to.”

Ryuu’s cheeks have become red again, so he pulls his scarf over his nose and looks to his side, out the window, away from Nakajima’s bicolor eyes. “... I don’t mind,” he says. From the corner of his eye, he sees Nakajima’s smile return.

They spend lunch together. The cafe’s styled traditionally, and its ochazuke really is as good as Nakajima said. He eats two bowls in the time it takes Ryuu to eat one.

They spend the afternoon together. Nakajima shows Ryuu his favorite park, and Ryuu buys him a balloon, partly as a joke, but Nakajima ties it around his wrist and keeps it there for the rest of the day.

They spend the evening together. They walk along the docks, in areas where they’re probably not allowed to be, behind old warehouses and around rusty fences. While exploring like children, they talk. Ryuu talks about his position as an executive in a stuffy company. Nakajima talks about his job as an assistant to a private eye.

“That sounds more interesting than my job,” Ryuu says, climbing over crates in a crumbling storage building. From the top of the pile, swinging his legs over the side, Nakajima huffs.

“You’d think so,” he sighs, “But my boss hardly ever does his paperwork, so while he’s off on cases, I’m left to sort through his files.”

Ryuu hums in understanding as he finally reaches the top, sitting next to Nakajima on the large crate. From up there, they can see the moon through the worn, broken panels of the warehouse’s roof.

“I guess you were off today,” Ryuu says. Nakajima chuckles sheepishly.

“About that… I ditched.”

Ryuu turns to him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type,” he points out. Nakajima shoves him a bit, playfully, but hard enough to make Ryuu wonder if his companion doesn’t know his own strength.

“You’ve only known me a day,” he says, apparently not noticing as Ryuu grips the side of the crate a bit harder than before and rubs his shoulder. “Besides, Dazai-san ditches me all the time. It’s about time he got a taste of his own medicine.”

Ryuu watches as Nakajima leans back, laying his back flat against the crate, possibly getting splinters in his hair and jacket. In the small amount of time he’s known Nakajima, Ryuu knows him well enough to assume that he doesn’t care if he gets dirty.

“What about you?” Nakajima asks, peering over at Ryuu. “You weren’t off either, were you?”

Ryuu purses his lips, turning away from Nakajima, pulling his scarf over his nose again, and Nakajima laughs a little. “Knew it.”

“I didn’t plan to skip today,” Ryuu says in his defense. “It mostly just happened.”

Nakajima sighs, watching clouds drift across the night sky. “Same here,” he says. He turns to Ryuu again, smiling, and his eyes are soft as he says to him, “Maybe it’s fate then? Destiny?”

Nakajima’s expression sends Ryuu’s heart into overdrive, but he takes slow breaths, laying down beside him and turning his gaze to the sky.

“I’m not sure it matters how we met,” he says quietly, trying not to jump in the air when he feels Nakajima’s fingers brush his own. “We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

He looks beside him, and Nakajima’s still smiling. A breeze rustles his hair, his eyes shimmer in the moonlight, and if Ryuu hadn’t fallen in love when he first saw Nakajima, this sight alone would have ensnared him. But since he’s already in love, all he can do is hide his blush.

“Did you have a good time today?”

Atsushi takes his eyes off his phone, looking at the man sitting beside him on the train. Akutagawa looks forward, watching city lights pass by the windows across from them, his hands in his coat pockets. He spoke without turning to Atsushi.

Turning his phone off, Atsushi watches their reflections in the window, looking in the same direction as Akutagawa, but not seeing the same thing.

“I did,” he says quietly, peering at his companion’s dark eyes as reflected in the glass. His heart beats a little faster when he admits it, and he smiles again, hoping to hide his nervousness with it. It’s worked all day.

“Did you?” he asks Akutagawa. The other man shifts a little, and crossing one leg over the other, he nods once. Inwardly, Atsushi lets out a small sigh of relief. Spending the day with Akutagawa has been a joy for him, and he wanted to know that his companion felt the same way, even though he probably hadn’t developed an immediate crush like Atsushi did.

The train’s automated voice cuts through Atsushi’s thoughts, announcing that the next station, Atsushi’s stop, is five minutes away. Atsushi’s knees bunch together as his face falls. Five minutes. He has five minutes left with Akutagawa.

He turns to the side again, looking over his companion’s face. Akutagawa’s the most handsome man he’s ever seen, with hair that looks as soft as doves’ feathers, eyes that constantly reflect the sea at night, and a pale, round face that somehow manages to be both adorable and mature. His expression never wavers, giving him an air of mystery that lures Atsushi in.

And, Atsushi thinks with a sad smile, he’s almost as impulsive as he is.

“Hey,” Atsushi says quietly. Akutagawa turns only his eyes to look at him, leaning back against the seat while Atsushi’s bent over on his knees.

“Yes?” Akutagawa asks in that deep voice of his. Atsushi takes a deep breath, even while his brain reminds him of the many ways that this could go wrong.

“Since, you know, we had fun today,” Atsushi says slowly, inwardly cursing himself for using the word “fun” like a kid, “Would you like to… Do it again?”

Akutagawa doesn’t take his eyes off of him, only blinking once, but staying silent as if he’s mulling it over. Atsushi watches him, almost shrinking back under his intense gaze.

“Yes.”

Atsushi can feel his heart skip a beat. “You mean it?” he asks incredulously, picking himself up, leaning forward towards Akutagawa. His excitement picks up as if pure adrenaline is being pumped into his veins. “You really want to see me again?”

Akutagawa nods, and if he scoots away a little, Atsushi barely notices. His heart’s too busy doing backflips.

“T-then, uh,” Atsushi all but pats himself down, searching through his pockets for something to write on, “w-would you like my number? I mean, it would be hard to meet again if one of us didn’t get the other’s number…” he trails off, stopping when Akutagawa merely holds out his hand to him.

“Your phone,” he says. Wordlessly, Atsushi nods, pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking it before passing it to Akutagawa. Despite only knowing him for a day, he trusts him with it.

Akutagawa says nothing as he types on the screen, Atsushi leaning over his shoulder, watching as Akutagawa puts himself in Atsushi’s contact list.

“No need to waste paper when you have a phone,” Akutagawa says, handing it back to Atsushi, who stares at the name AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE and the number attached to it as if trying to commit it to memory. “I doubt you have a pen, anyway.”

Atsushi flushes red, and he could swear that the small huff Akutagawa gives is the faintest hint of a laugh.

“Call me tomorrow,” adds Akutagawa, turning away, leaning back again. “I’ll actually be off then.”

If Atsushi can get any redder, he does. Not only does Akutagawa want to see him again, he wants to see him tomorrow . He feels like he might pass out.

Instead, he beams, standing as the train pulls to a stop and the doors open. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Akutagawa-san,” he says. Akutagawa nods again, watching him as he walks to the doors.

“I’ll see you,” he echoes, waving a little, not taking his eyes off of Atsushi until the doors close again and the train pulls away. Atsushi watches it round a corner, making sure it’s completely gone before he leaves the platform, humming to himself, kicking up snow like a child and watching it fall around him.

He’s never felt in love like this before.

Gone, but not forgotten is that feeling when he reaches his apartment. He stops in his tracks, keys in hand, starting at the thing on his doorstep. It’s a package, a large cardboard box with Atsushi’s name and address on it. It sits in front of the door to his apartment, illuminated with yellow light, wet patches on its cardboard from melted snow.

Atsushi frowns. He doesn’t remember ordering anything. He doesn’t recognize the return label, either; it seems to be someone’s personal address, coming from someone named Higuchi Ichiyo. Atsushi’s never heard of them.

Atsushi stares at  the box, watching it as if something might jump from it. But the box is completely still. He shoves it a bit to get to his door, never taking his eyes off of it, surprised at how heavy it is.

Either he’s gullible or his curiosity gets the better of him, but Atsushi takes it inside.

There’s a letter attached to the top of the box, Atsushi realizes once the door’s closed behind it. He opens it first, peeling away the tape that binds it to the package, tearing it open gingerly, almost not wanting to admit to himself how scared he is of its contents.

The only thing in the letter is a harmless piece of paper. Atsushi checks the envelope twice to make sure of this; no powder, no razors, no glitter. Nothing dangerous. Atsushi sighs like he’s just defused a bomb.

But after he’s read the letter, he feels as if someone’s relit it.

Frantically, Atsushi tears open the box. It’s filled to the brim with material, inconsequential things, like plush toys and picture frames and a few crumpled pieces of origami. According to the letter, less than a few weeks ago, these were all Atsushi’s.

And he doesn’t remember any of them.

Atsushi’s heart feels ready to burst from his chest, and not in the giddy way that he felt when he was with Akutagawa. It’s the way that makes Atsushi’s stomach turn, his throat go dry, and his eyes widen in horror. He’s throwing things out of the box now, shaking, realization creeping up his spine like a cold hand. It’s all fake. It has to be.

But it can’t be.

Band tickets. Calendars with dates circled in red. Poems signed by their author, a name Atsushi can’t stand to read. A small blue box, a diamond ring still inside it, never presented.

Breath escapes Atsushi’s lips in ragged pants when he reaches the bottom. Under love letters and fridge magnets, a small flash drive hides, just as Higuchi wrote in her letter.

Atsushi freezes. The words of the letter pierce through his skin like knives, tearing into him, shaking him to his core.

To Nakajima Atsushi.

He takes the flash drive, holding it as if it could kill him if it got too close, but also careful not to let any harm come to it.

I am Higuchi Ichiyo. This may come as a shock to you, but you opted to receive treatment to have your memories of a certain person erased.

Atsushi plugs the flash drive into his computer. His breath catches in his throat when he sees all of them; photos, possibly hundreds of them, all of him and someone he thought he had never met.

Of course, you do not remember receiving this treatment. The memory of that was erased as well.

Atsushi’s never been to these places. He’s never been with that man before. He definitely has never kissed him before, but dozens of photos say otherwise.

I am a former employee of the doctor that carried out treatment for you and many others, Doctor Mori Ougai. It has recently come to my attention that this process is unethical. This is my attempt at making amends.

Atsushi covers his mouth with his hands. Sobs lurk behind his lips, tears slip from his eyes whenever he blinks. He can’t do this. He can’t keep going, can’t look at them anymore, can’t see himself smiling at a man he’d never met before today.

We took everything from you. Every memory, every photo, every object that may carry some trace of that person you wanted to forget. I’m giving them all back to you.

He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He’s curled up in his desk chair now, knees to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. He has to keep going, he tells himself, even while a whimper escapes his lips. He has to find that final file.

In this package, there’s a flash drive. It includes anything digital that we took, such as photos or videos. You’ll also find a recording of your verbal consent to this treatment there.

Atsushi scrolls past all the photos, not wanting to look at any more of them, but still catching glimpses every now and then, glimpses of a life he can never get back.

I hope you’re able to forgive me and come to peace with this. All the best,

Higuchi Ichiyo

The audio file’s at the very bottom. Atsushi doesn’t hesitate. He clicks on it, letting whatever’s on that file play through his computer’s speakers, echoing through the apartment. This can’t be real, he thinks to himself, still shaking. This can’t be real, and this will prove it.

“What’s your name, sir? ” a faceless male voice says, sounding like it was recorded through a low-quality microphone. Atsushi can feel his shoulders relax a bit; there’s no way a doctor’s office would be using such cheap equipment.

“Nakajima Atsushi. ”

Atsushi freezes. Yes, it sounds horrible through the recording. Yes, it’s nothing like how he sounds in his head. But that’s definitely his voice.

“And why are you choosing to have this procedure, Nakajima-san? ”

The room seems to spin. Atsushi’s vision goes blurry. Every photo he saw in that flash drive feels as if it’s being burned into his memory, leaving scars as a warning to never forget again.

The Atsushi in the recording can he heard taking a deep breath, coming out as static through the poor quality of the audio.

“Because I hate Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.”

"I want to forget Nakajima Atsushi. ”

“He’s irrational. He’s got a naive, childish outlook on life and needs to grow up .”

“Everywhere we go, he wants me to buy him a plush toy. A plush toy! He’s a grown man! ”

“He took a picture from his phone and got it printed and framed. What kind of sentimental idiot does that? ”

“He’s impulsive. I’ve spent so much on his stupid impulses and he never learns. I’ve almost been arrested because of him, all because he wanted to ‘explore.’ This has happened more than once. ”

“He doesn’t know how strong he is. He accidentally broke my arm once. How do you accidentally break someone’s arm?! ”

“He gets jealous if I so much as look at another guy .”

“I hate the way he eats .”

“I hate the way he talks .”

“I hate the way he drags me around .”

“He’s the only person that’s ever made me cry .”

“And… I loved him .”

There’s a pause. The Ryuunosuke in the recording stops for a moment, and he can be heard letting out a breath through clenched teeth as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I want to forget about him. I want to forget about loving him! ”

The doorway creaks. Ryuu looks up from his spot on the floor, surrounded by souvenirs and pieces of paper and framed photographs. He’s there, in the standing in the open door, appearing like a phantom but clutching the doorframe like a scared child.

“… Just like he forgot about me .”

“How much of that did you hear?” Ryuu asks quietly, closing his laptop and shoving it away like it offended him. Still standing there, Nakajima doesn’t meet his eyes.

“... Enough,” he says just as quietly, one arm wrapped around himself, the other supporting him against the wall as if he’d fall over if he didn’t have something to hold on to. He clears his throat a bit. “I had your address on a piece of paper. It was in the box,” he admits softly. Ryuu merely grunts in response.

There’s silence for a minute, in which Ryuu looks down at the pile around him. There’s even a shirt in there, decorated in colors he can’t imagine wearing, featuring a arrow with goofy letters beneath it saying “ I’m HIS boyfriend! ”

“Did you really think that?”

Ryuu looks up at Nakajima, a frown on his lips. Nakajima, with his eyes on the floor, doesn’t notice.

“Did you really think all those things?”

Ryuu huffs, causing Nakajima to pick his head up.

“Even if I did, I can’t remember it, can I?” he snaps. Nakajima shrinks back a little, his eyes wide as if he’s been frightened.

Ryuu stares at him, the anger falling from his face as he watches him, scared and confused, like a kicked dog. Ryuu’s shoulders sag and he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Nakajima walks inside, leaving his shoes at the door, his socks stepping gingerly around everything on the floor until he’s next to Ryuu, where he slowly sits.

“... We could try again,” he says softly.

The very idea causes Ryuu to turn away, covering his mouth with his hand, folding his knees beside him. He hears Nakajima sigh.

“I mean, not picking up where we left off,” he says. From the corner of his eye, Ryuu can see him wrap his arms around his knees. “But… Starting over. Going on our date tomorrow, like we talked about. Easy things.”

Ryuu closes his eyes, as if not looking at everything on the floor would cause it to disappear. “It might end up like before,” he whispers.

Slowly, gently, he feels lithe fingers brush against the back of his free hand. He turns, looking down, seeing Nakajima’s hand on his.

“It might not,” Nakajima says just as quietly, his eyes on their hands as well.

Ryuu feels himself begin to tremble. Subconsciously, or perhaps not, he leans against Nakajima, who breathes deep and slow.

“I think that… If I could remember who I was before,” Nakajima murmurs, a bittersweet tang to his words, like strawberries picked too soon, “That version of me… Would be overjoyed that he gets to discover you all over again.”

Ryuu squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t cry. He won’t cry, not in front of someone he’s just met.

But they haven’t just met. They met moons ago, danced moons ago, kissed moons ago. That same moon is still out, and it’s ready to watch them learn to dance once more.

[arctic-rising]

1-5, 9, 16, & 37!!

tysm for the questions!! this got…real long.

1. Write from the perspective of an outsider of your lair, what is their first impression? How have they discovered this group? How are they greeted?

      The young spiral twirled around her companion, twisting among the towering reeds. The skydancer, a map clenched in their claws, laughed as they caught sight of flashes of purple scales.       “When do you think we’ll be there?” Impressive stalks of bamboo clattered against each other as the little dragon zipped through it, and then back onto the well worn path.       “Well,” The skydancer tilted their head as they looked over the map, “if my calculations are correct, we should arrive there…now!”The tall bamboo- tall enough to reach towards the clear blue sky, seemed tiny in comparison to the massive painted gates that rose into view. Two stone towers with green and orange banners flanked the gate; shadowed figures darting around the structure could just be made out as plush clouds glided over head. The closer the duo approached, the louder the song of wind chimes became. When the shadow of the arch passed over them, they could make out heavy ropes draping bowls of unicorn dust and cerdae sparkle; the golden and red glitter contrasting against the green painted doors. A massive wind flight symbol had been engraved and then painted over in white across each door, splitting it in half when the gates where open.       The spiral gasped in delight and fluttered through the open doors. The skydancer followed, smiling as they kept pace with their friend through the crowds. Dragons of all kinds and all flights mingled through the cobble streets- some filtered into inns and taverns, others went straight for shops while some were content to sit underneath over hangs and watch.        The spiral soon fluttered back and wrapped herself around her friend, clinging to their fur as they walked. Her wide eyes darted around, moving from a snapper in furs to a ridgeback in armor, then over to a smattering of fae.      “You alright there?” The skydancer asked. The spiral looked up at them, her purple eyes turning a soft lavender in the sunshine.        “There’s so many dragons here. So many. Didn’t you say this place was hidden?”       “Yes! It’s hidden to those outside of the Plateau, and this place’s allies I’d assume. But, if you’ve been around here for a while you can figure out where it is easy enough.”       “But how did you figure it out? And where did you get that?” She poked at the parchment with one toe. The skydancer laughed and tugged it away.       “This? Got it from a friend! Who got it from another friend, and that one got it from their uncle, and that uncle got it from another friend. Probably.” The skydancer gracefully slid out of the way of an armored bogsneak who bared a white wind flight symbol. She nodded respectfully, and was soon lost to the crowds.       “You see, GuidingWinds is a trade hub. It has to rely on visitors to survive, but it wants to be a safe place at the same time, yes? So, tell me friend, what’s the best way to spread word of your little home to your neighbors, and your neighbor’s neighbors without letting all of dragon kind know?”       The spiral frowned and thought for a moment. She shrugged.       “Word of mouth, but of course you through in some rumors to help keep things under lock and key. You know, some lizards don’t believe this place even exists! But us wind folk know, annnd because we like our reputation we tell others about this place! Only if we like them though. It’s no good ratting your lovely neighbor out when they’ve been nothing but kind.”       The spiral blinked, her eyes going impossibly wide. “No- that’s so clever! But what happens if a bad egg gets in anyways?”       “That’s what the kingdom champions are for dear. You saw that bogsneak back there, yes? She was one of them- they’re an elite force that keeps the peace, and collects treasures and goods for the kingdoms personal stock. They’re awfully nice until you break the rules. Then they’re not so nice.”       The duo’s conversation continued as they slipped through the streets, two smears of color adding to the sea of manes and scales in the afternoon light of the Kingdom.

2. Is there a class difference in your lair? If so, how do the ‘lower’ ranks of their society live? If not, how do they maintain equity?

Ooo, yeah there’s very much a class difference. Thankfully the big wigs up in the castle (mostly lucien and azuleopa) do their best to make sure the treasure is being spread equally throughout the kingdom. Some dragons have more things because they either came into the kingdom with more money, or they’re just really good at saving up and making good investments. Another factor to keep in mind is the fact that the kingdom gets the majority of its cash via trading with visitors and merchants, so how popular someone’s product is can absolutely influence how much money ya got, and more over how comfortable your home is.

uhh the main reason why the royals are rich is probably because taxes. Merchants, both outside and inside the kingdom gotta pay a fee to keep their business legal and approved within the city, but the tax itself is determined by how much you normally sell in a month. there’s math that i can do with this but i dont wanna.

3. How is discipline dealt out? Is there a legal system? Fair trial? Vigilantism? 

The criminal is normally arrested and placed in temporary holding cells within the castle until Toxin and Arctic can find a time to determine their fate. If they decide that the crime was a minor offense, they’ll decide that the criminal has to do some time of sitting around in a cell before they can leave. Bigger offenses can lead to banishment or long-term imprisonment (or both, if you don’t rot away in the prison first)

4. Are there any important figures in history involved in your lair? Who are they and why are they significant?

Yes! Two dragons (who have been exalted) named Percy and Iolite were some of the first dragons within the clan before it became the kingdom it is now. Toxin, Arctic, Zaleka, Tahara, Phobia, and Adelaide will tell about stories about them if you ask nicely, but they always seem a little sad and wistful when retelling those tales. Percy was a scribe and Iolite was a very sneaky warrior, although both were said to have had hearts of gold. Iolite and Dawn initially trained Zaleka, and Percy helped plan the initial layout of the kingdom before they left. No one knows where they went, mainly because the dragons that knew them won’t talk about it…

and as a side note, Arctic, Toxin, and Dawn are all pretty important historical figures too but they’re still around

5. How has history constructed & molded your lair’s culture, morals and ideals, if at all?

As mentioned before, Dawn and Iolite trained Zaleka to be the fearsome warrior that she is today, and Zaleka went on to pass that knowledge down to the kingdom champions she’s trained. Kingdom champions have a special type of fighting style that utilizes their strengths to their absolute extent by boosting their skills with their innate magic. For example; Tokyo, a wind skydancer, is SUPER fucking fast already, but he uses his wind magic to make himself extra speedy, which lets him get in and out of situations fast and land a tooooon of quick strikes. Each kingdom champions’ fighting style varies, so it’s difficult to anticipate what’s gonna come next!

The kingdom def puts a lot of emphasis of just being nice to each other. The kingdom used to have a nasty serthis problem, and before they were able to fortify themselves a lot of dragons were lost in the conflicts. You don’t know when someone is going to meet their end, so just being kind to others in what moments you have with them is something the founders of the kingdom really emphasized after they lost a lot of their clanmates.

9. What is the political climate? What are some issues currently in the public’s eye?

the fact that literally every single prince and princess has died except Kima is very much a sore point with long term residents. some have blamed Blister, some have blamed the gods, and some think there’s something else going on. most are just thankful that Kima survived though.

another strain is from the events of Bounty of the Elements! haven’t actually gotten to that with the main lore arc, but because of a lot of the internal conflicts within flights (especially fire flight) trade and merchandise has been lacking in some places.

16. Who holds authority or is looked up to in their society? Do they hold any real power, or is it more of a concept?

Regina and Rahab are the queen and king, so of course they are at the very top of the food chain and technically have the most power. Arctic and Toxin have the most favor and influence over the population because of their history with GuidingWinds itself, and in the kingdom Dawn is the most powerful in terms of magic while Toxin is the most powerful in terms of athletic skill. Andromeda, Lotus, and Ana are pretty tied when it comes to who has the greatest potential to be more powerful than Dawn, and Antigone has the greatest potential to be more powerful than Toxin.

also Gaia is a super powered technically immortal druid but she doesn’t care about climbing the power ladder, so she’s more than content with selling weird plants.

outside of the kingdom is a different story. there’s some uh, demigods running around. Balthazar is one of them and is often called ‘the fighter’ because of his prowess in combat. he’ll absolutely reward you if you kick his ass but it’s super difficult, so don’t get your hopes up. he can also transform into a featherback boar at will, so there’s that. Ruthe is the other demigod! she’s called ‘the caster’ because she’s mastered all types of spell casting. she’s also incredibly difficult to beat, but she won’t reward you for kicking her ass. you might be able to convince her to teach you some tips on magic tho! Ruthe can also transform into a powerful beast, but i have yet to choose which one.

37. Are there any common domesticated animals used as livestock, labor or transport? How did this happen? Are they common place?

have i been meaning to figure this out for a while? absolutely!

have i actually figured it out yet? nope

short answer is that they probably have a bunch of the goat and bird based familiars. which ones, i have yet to decide on. i will say that southmarsh podids are absolutely used to pull carts and stuff like that.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

I  Hear You Callin’ Me

Jack stepped out of his front door after one final cleansing breath, a deep inhale and a sharp exhale of the frigid air in the confines of his rental. Stepping across the threshold onto the front porch was like stepping onto another planet. The air was thick and sticky, heavy in his lungs as he moved through it, like wading into a sun-kissed lake. He’d never before encountered a place that could feel so stagnant, so determined to be a breathable representation of what he imagined a swamp to be.

Sweat - or maybe it was just water from the air - immediately beaded up on his upper lip and in the small of his back and he knew now that it would stay there all day long thanks to the saturated air. Or at least it would until his shower in the evening, because that was now a thing. Not only did he shower in the mornings and after workouts but he also had to shower at night just to feel capable of falling asleep. He took a few moments to collect himself and resign himself to his sticky existence before heading down the front walk to his truck parked in front of the house.

“Mornin’,” came the usual lazy greeting from next door, despite the fact that he always stepped out of the house just as the sun was rising, before the world had really begun to stir.

“Good morning,” Jack replied politely, as always, with barely a glance at his neighbor. He’d looked at him properly a few times when he’d first moved in, and that had been as much eye contact with the guy as Jack could stand for a while. Eye contact was hard enough as it was, but when it was coupled with his neighbor’s obvious amusement over Jack’s discomfort in the summer heat he just..couldn’t. Or maybe it was because he’d never seen eyes so intense, or someone so determined to be friendly who happened to tick every little box Jack had (previously known and not) that dealt with what sort of man was his type.

“Have a good day,” the guy said, as per usual, and Jack nodded, using his keys as an excuse to duck his head, also as per usual. “Hey,” the guy said, and the deviation from their usual script was enough to nudge Jack’s heart rate a little higher as well as startle him into looking over at the guy on his porch swing where he was sitting with his bare legs curled to his chest and a tall glass of iced coffee in his hands, poised close to his lips.

“Yes?” Jack asked when it became clear that the guy was waiting for him to say something.

“Where do you always go so early anyway? It’s summer,” the guy said, as if the season had anything to do with his question. Jack frowned in confusion and glanced down at his workout clothes, figuring the answer to that would be obvious.

“I go to the gym,” he answered in his usual flat voice. It normally got him in trouble, but the guy on his swing just smiled slowly, his lips somehow seeming just as syrupy as the air, just as heavy on him.

“Well hon I could at least figure out that much,” the guy laughed and Jack just barely refrained from asking him why he was asking questions he already knew the answer to.

“‘Hon’?” he said instead and the guy just shrugged lazily with another little simmer of a smile.

“Sorry, it’s a habit. I just mean we see each other every mornin’ at this ungodly hour and I don’t know anything about you. And you’re way too put-together and alert for a summer mornin’, so I’m curious.”

This was by far not the strangest conversation Jack had had since moving to Tennessee, but it was up there. He felt utterly lost in this, so he figured the only thing to do (since he couldn’t think of a way to bow out gracefully) was to keep prompting his neighbor until he could find a polite end to the conversation so he could return to his weekday routine.

“What does it being a summer morning have to do with my energy level?” he asked, perplexed again by this mention of the season as if it held any bearing whatsoever on...well, anything, really.

“Summertime’s for bein’ lazy, honey,” the guy said like it should’ve been obvious. He stretched one leg out to push his bare toes against the railing at the front of his porch to set the swing to swaying gently back and forth. Jack’s eyes were drawn to the shape of him, the graceful curve from heel to ankle to shapely calf, the strong arch in the middle of his foot, the delicate point of his toes. “It’s for slow mornin’s and lots of sittin’ around drinkin’ cold drinks if you can. The heat’ll drain ya, we’re all lazy strictly for self-preservation,” he continued while Jack was distracted by his honey-gold skin and the shift of his muscles that Jack had never noticed were so defined.

“Ah….Laziness isn’t really my style,” Jack finally managed to say and was a little confused by the mischievous smirk on the guy’s face as he raised his glass to take a dainty sip of the coffee.

“No? Always full of energy, then?” he asked with a light laugh that was reminiscent of the windchimes on Jack’s other neighbor’s porch, now hanging completely still and silent in the heavy morning. “Well I envy you then, honey. Lord but this heat can flat make a boy wanna crawl between some cool sheets and never come back out again,” he said coyly and Jack blinked in surprise. He blamed the sudden heat in his cheeks to the fact that the sun had crested over the nearby trees and was on his back now, already too hot for comfort despite it being barely past 7 in the morning.

“Sheets don’t seem to stay cool for very long around here, though,” Jack replied, feeling very out of his depth but also feeling a hint of..something else.

“Mmm ain’t that the truth,” the guy sighed as he tipped his head back for a moment, stretching his other leg out to join the first as the sun bathed his porch in its warm glow.

“But uh...to answer your question,” Jack said and the guy tipped his head back down to watch him steadily over the rim of his glass as he took another long sip. “I go to the gym and then to work for a few hours and then I just..wander. I’m trying to get familiar with things. I’ve never lived somewhere like this.”

“Like what?”

“So...open,” Jack said after grappling with vocabulary to try to define what he felt. Never an easy task for him. “Sprawling, I guess, is a better word.”

“Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Sprawling?” the guy asked and this time the implication in his tone was unmistakable. His voice was inviting and thick as sweet molasses, honey and promises practically dripping from his lips as he swung slowly back and forth with his legs naked in the sunlight, his face still shaded by the ferns hanging low from the roof of his porch.

“It depends.”

“On?”

“Who I’m sprawling with,” he replied and was rewarded with a wide grin and another windchime laugh that made his chest feel tight.

“My my my. Wanna come in for an iced coffee before you head out for the day?” the guy asked and Jack meant to think about it, but before he could give his legs permission he was walking across the little strip of grass between their driveways. He watched the guy roll to his feet in a graceful movement, his shorts high and tight around the tops of his thighs, high enough that Jack felt safe in assuming he wasn’t wearing anything beneath them. His shoulders were broad for his stature and defined and Jack followed dumbly after him as the guy stepped lightly into the house, his feet making almost no noise on the cool white tile just inside.

[electricbluebutterflies]

take this pain & turn it into gold

"All of a sudden everything is too much and he falls."

Or, survivor’s guilt is the actual worst and Rey is REALLY stubborn. Damerey-ish (main part of fic is pre-relationship), PG-ish, and also on ao3. Title from “Champion” by Barns Courtney.

In some ways, he dug his own grave.

Poe learned early that some of his traits were more valuable than others, more likely to get him attention or status or whatever else he wanted. And most of those traits being strengths, he learned to play them forward. As time went on and he grew into himself, he wove a web to hide behind and a mask to keep him safe, but now… now that all feels like a mistake.

He hasn't been vulnerable around another human being in about a decade, maybe even longer, he's not even sure at this point. He's gotten so good at being the positive one, the burst of sunlight and borderline-delusional optimism that keeps everything moving along. Even covered in his own blood, even after being captured and having his mind invaded, he's always been the public face of hope. Some of it's real, some of it isn't - he lost track of how to tell which is which, isn't sure if he even cares or if it matters.

That was before, though. In the last few days, he's lost count of how many of his friends and fellow pilots have gone down. He's even less sure how many are left, but it seems like the entire goddamned Resistance has decided he's their walking motivational poster and it's a lot and it's starting to hurt.

Like, he's not sure what this pain is, but it's in his head and his veins and he's pretty sure there's no way to make it stop. So instead, he lets himself drown.

He still smiles in the presence of any other living thing, and maybe the playful comments take a little more effort to create but it's not like any of them know that. Everyone's lost someone recently, and some much more than that. A general aura of mourning hangs over the new base, so the expectations are a little lower, a little easier to meet. At this level, he figures he can go a while longer without crashing. Couple weeks, maybe. Enough for the rest of them to see that he's probably not their savior anymore.

And then he's in the hangar - he's still learning this place, taking advantage of the current lay-low tactic to familiarize himself with new circumstances and surroundings and protocols - and all of a sudden the mere feeling of his hand against tarnished metal is too damn much, everything is too much, and he falls.

There are words for this feeling, he knows. There are words and there are things smart people do when it hits, but he can't remember any of them and it's the best he can do to sit down on the cold concrete floor and take slow breaths and not break completely. Not enough, but something. Not enough, but-

"What's wrong?"

This is his goddamn luck, he thinks bitterly, glancing up at the unexpected noise. As intruders go, at least this could be worse. Rey is… a lot of things, most of them out of his range of his understanding, but he highly doubts she's come bearing a to-do list so at least she's got that going for her. And what few interactions he's had with her, she seems to have the same light in her that most people assume he's still got, so…

"Ever wonder how you're still alive?" he mutters. That's vague enough not to get him put on a watch, right?

"Yeah. Why?"

Poe motions for the girl to join him on the ground, doesn't expect her to actually join him but is pleasantly surprised when she does. "Half the people I cared about have died in the last month. And I didn't."

"Because you're the best pilot we have," she laughs, clearly not processing the gravity of the situation.

He buries his face in his hands, suddenly afraid he's going to end up crying before she figures out he wants to be alone. "Some of them were better. Some of them had families. I just got stuck… too charming for my own good, too easy to position as a leader, too-"

"Shhh. I've seen you fly, and I've heard how the General talks about you. You earned your position."

She's not wrong, and that in turn makes him a little bit angry. "Doesn't give me any right to be the only survivor."

"You're brave. Everyone says you are. Brave and kind in equal measures."

"Damn stupid and prone to getting my squad killed," he corrects.

"Not your fault."

"Yeah. Yeah it is. Not cautious enough. They say that too, if you're actually listening."

He's amazed she's stuck around this long. He can't recall ever being this venomous towards someone who didn't directly have it coming, but beyond that, he doubted Rey's bullshit tolerance was this good. He's seen her in action and quite likes that impression, but she hadn't struck him as someone who can tolerate massive amounts of self-loathing and-

"Maybe I don't care."

"You should. Reputation's everything, especially as small as we are now."

"So?"

"So you're young and feral and don't know better, but that won't protect you when you take the wrong side."

The words come out too fast, before he thinks them through, and he's half worried she's going to hit him or something (he wouldn't blame her), but instead she curls into a ball and starts… shit, she's crying. Well this is a couple levels of unexpected mess.

"I didn't mean harm, okay? I just want you safe. And being by my side when the higher-ups finally notice my body count goes both ways… that's probably not gonna work out so well for you."

Rey barely looks up at him. "At least you're honest," she breathes. "Better than most."

"I try."

"I know. That's why I came out here. Wanted a distraction and thought you might want some help."

"Nothing to help with," Poe murmurs. "Until we start running missions again, these fighters are as good condition as they're realistically getting. I've just been looking for any quirks I might need to know about."

"Found any?"

"Not yet."

They sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own mind, and it hits him that he didn't expect this from her either. There's strong empathy in their hesitant friendship, like their wildly different roots don't matter, and this too joins them together. Her history of loss is different than his, he's pretty sure, but the pain still burns the same.

All of a sudden, an idea hits him.

"Want to help with something?"

"What's the project?"

"Little early for war memorials, but this place will probably get blown to bits in a month anyways, so… we could do something. Write names on a wall. It's an old tradition. Usually done a little more permanent, but-"

"Why do you need my help?"

"Not need. Want. Not sure if I can do it alone without crashing again, and… you did say you were bored," he points out, a genuine smile almost ghosting across his lips.

"Not exactly bored so much as don't feel like watching Finn try to teach Rose how to shoot," she laughs.

"Our droid there recording it?"

"Probably?"

"Good. There's no way that works out for either of them… she's trained on machines, not close range. Version I heard from her sister, there were reasons."

Rey playfully rolls her eyes. "They're in love. Everything's a good idea."

"You learn quick."

"Turns out Finn's enthusiasm about you was nothing compared to his new adventure," Rey laughs. "So, project?"

"I think I saw some paint somewhere. If you're okay spotting…"

-------

The first memorial of this particular war survives a surprising nine weeks. A replica, with more names added each time but always in the same style, is painted in each subsequent base until the war ends.

The final one goes up three exhausting years later, in the aftermath of a battle that turns out to be the beginning of the end. Its creators have changed since they first claimed this project for themselves. The woman is still adjusting to use of a prosthetic hand, and the man has lost track of times his own name nearly joined the list.

"Do you think the General would approve of the way we did her name?" the woman asks, reaching for her partner's hand with her real one.

"She told me to do it like that," he replies. "Whole list of a legacy she decided to give me, but that was the easy part."

"Want help with the rest of it?"

"Yeah. Just in case I fall again."

She twirls around and kisses him, and it's something like hope.

"I'll catch you."

[lesmotsincompris]

Thoughts on GoT S07E04

We’ve hit the halfway mark!

Do you know that feeling when someone tells you a joke and you know it’s supposed to be funny and you know what about is meant to make you laugh, but it just doesn’t work for you and you don’t laugh at all? That’s how I feel about GoT’s big moments, about it’s ‘epicness’ and ‘badassery’.

In this episode, most of the scenes were either “of all the possible book points, are they gonna bring THAT and THIS WAY?” or “why is this scene happening?”. I was surprisingly indifferent too, considering the butchery of long-time favorite characters.

But more under the cut.

Winterhell

Look, I love the Starks. I know it’s cliche, but Jon, Arya, and Sansa are my three favorite characters in all of A Song of Ice and Fire. That’s no small feat. I love all the Starks, and the direwolves, and the people of Winterfell, and the little bits we learn of Northern culture and memory.

So you can imagine I’m angry at the show.

It’s been a while since the Stark siblings stopped being the same characters as their book counterparts, but at this point they’re not even interesting characters in their own right. D&D simply don’t care say about the Starks or what they represent, though I can imagine they love these foul show creations they put in their place.

Out of all possible book points, they decided to bring back Bran’s assassination attempt. In the books, Joffrey was responsible for it, but I feel in the show they’re gonna pin the whole thing on Littlefinger. How? He wasn’t even in Winterfell, he wasn’t even aware that Bran was comatose.

“That very question is what started the War of The Five Kings,” says Littlefinger. That means “I know we’re bringing this back far too late, so here’s some backsposition for you to remember what we’re talking about.” I see what they want with this: they want to blame Littlefinger for the WOT5K so that we feel a lot of Dramatic Satisfaction™ when Arya enacts her revengey revengeful revenge on him.

Other than that, Littlefinger is there mostly to lust after Sansa, because that’s not creepy at all. There’s no reason he has to follow her around and I can’t see why she doesn’t give him something else to do. 

Oh, and they brought back the ‘chaos is the ladder’ speech, because D&D are onanists.

I have this pet theory that Isaac Hempstead-Wright accidentally did something to piss off D&D, because they butchered his character years ago and now are even preventing him from acting. “You died in that cave” is a retcon, because if I recall correctly Bran wasn’t acting like a robot last season.

Now that a wheelchair replaced 90% of Meera’s role in the story, she can quietly melisandre away. Aren’t D&D classy and subtle in how they get rid of characters they no longer want to write?

The guards of Winterfell are mean to Arya, because people in Westeros are mean to everyone in every possible occasion. Why was this scene here? Only so that we could see what a great ninja Arya has become, after being beaten with a stick for two seasons?

I like the concept of Arya and Sansa meeting in the crypts, but once again we only have one Stark sibling acting per scene.

“I wish I had” “Me too”. FUCK YOU, SHOW. FUCK YOU, D&D. I CURSE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN. I CURSE EVERY IRRESPONSIBLE FRIEND, TEACHER, OR TV CRITIC THAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD PUT TWO WORDS TOGETHER SUCCESSFULLY. I CURSE THAT HEINOUS FUCKERY YOU CALL A WRITING. I HOPE YOU DIE IN A FLAMING MOUNTAIN OF POOP.

Stark sisters bonding over murder. Great. You know, the pattern of gleeful murder in this show is deeply disturbing. All female characters actively enjoy murdering: Arya, Sansa, Ellaria, Cersei, Daenerys, Brienne, Yara... The same doesn’t happen with male characters, and even the likes of Sandor or Bronn don’t get high on carnage. The only male characters who truly enjoy a good butchery are villains like Ramsay, Euron, or the Mountain. I’ll just leave this information here for you to think about it.

Overall their meeting looked very stiff; I know Sansa and Arya weren’t the best of friends, but there’s something rigid in their acting and dialogue that made the moment bland for me. And we already know it doesn’t take much for me to appreciate a Stark meeting.

There’s a difference between exploring the consequences of Sansa’s rape and inserting little nods to it that mean nothing but “hey, remember that time we made everyone angry by raping Sansa Stark?”. I see a lot of the latter, not much of the former.

A few weeks ago conspiracy theorists were going crazy over Sansa’s hair being styled like Cersei’s. Where are they now that Sansa is using Daenerys’ weird-braid-circle style in her hair? Can we just stop with the crack theories?

Brienne admits she did next to nothing to reunite the Stark siblings. Poor book!Brienne, the one true knight of Westeros, your kindness and hope had no chance and no choice in D&D’s grimfest. At least show!Brienne was nice to Pod for the first time in ages. Character development!

That didn’t last long, though, and in her next scene she shoved him aside because she found a more important character to fight. Fighting is all Brienne does in the show. 

This fighting scene with Arya was as lazy as it was fanservice-y. Brienne defeated the Hound, but now Arya’s smirking at her and displaying her ninja skills. Does that mean Arya could defeat the Hound? Please, D&D, don’t answer that.

What was the point of this scene? What did it accomplish other than pure fanservice? Why were we seeing Sansa and fuckin’ Littlefinger’s reactions to this?

Every little bit of Winterfell was a mess. Fuck the show.

Dragonstone

Jon took Dany to the Westerosi equivalent of Lascaux, carved in ancient times when people only had enough blue ink for the White Walkers’ eyes and nothing more.

It would be really lazy if some carvings in a cave were all it took to convince Dany of the White Walker threat, so I’m glad they didn’t follow that route. But then I must ask: why was this scene here? Did it tell us anything new?

Again Dany comes across as this entitled brat that makes it all about her, her, her. I genuinely cackled when she said “I will fight for you, I will fight for the North… when you bend the knee”. She tells Jon to stop being so proud, but all this knee talk makes her look self-centered. Again we get a reasonable man and an unreasonable woman. I’m not angry at Dany, I’m angry at the two idiots that write her.

Good thing that Dany blamed Tyrion for the loss of her armies, but I wish the narrative could recognize that his plan was stupid even before Cersei used a cheat code. 

Dany asks Jon for advice, because when a woman loses the man that tells her what to do she must find another man to tell her what to do. It doesn’t matter that she barely knows him, gods forbid Dany thinking on her own. But hey, show!Jon is just as incompetent as show!Dany or show!Tyrion, so maybe they can be incompetent together.

Davos became a character that makes boob jokes, stans Jon, and flirts with Missandei. That’s the extension of his arc or inner conflicts. Oh poor Davos.

Alfie Allen is too good for this.

King’s Landing

THE GOLDEN COMPANY, OH MY FUCKING LORD. Out of all possible book points… Also filed under: cutting Aegon is hurting the story in more ways than expected.

Somewhere over the Reach

That part reminded me a lot of Skyrim, from the gold ingots to the way the dragons were animated. During the battle I couldn’t help but imagine the Dovahkiin theme song playing.

I forgot that show!Bronn was a thing. Lucky me.

Out of all possible reasons to turn Jaime against Cersei, why is fuckin’ Olenna Tyrell one of them? Jaime seems more affected by Olenna’s words than by Cersei blowing up the sept.

Come on, show, Jaime killed the king he swore to protect because the guy threatened to do what Cersei did last season. The septsplosion should have been Jaime’s worst nightmare coming true, the perfect reason to finally break up with his sister-lover. If that’s not enough to at least give him conflicted feelings, nothing should ever be enough to separate Jaime and Cersei. Ever. They’re the skeletons in Lost now, together until the end.

Forget conflict, we have a few armies to teleport. 

A few episodes ago I assumed the Dothraki went to Casterly Rock with the Unsullied, but they didn’t. But what were they supposed to be doing, then? Dany didn’t plan to attack the Lannister army until very recently, what were her original plans for the Dothraki? Just hanging out in Dragonstone?

Is it me or even the Dothraki ‘battle cry’ sounds racist?

The battle scene was too orange, but at least I could actually see things. The CGI of Dany in Drogon’s back was beyond terrible, but Drogon itself looked good. It better look good, four direwolves had to die for that. 

That was it for the scorpion? I mean, nobody actually thought it would kill a dragon, but this was beyond anticlimactic. Why bother inserting this at all?

Tyrion has inner life? What show am I watching? Peter Dinklage does a great job conveying Tyrion’s feelings at the sight of the Lannister army being decimated. Too bad he doesn’t look nearly as affected when his queen Dany falls out of her dragon.

Seriously, what were the stakes for this battle? Did anyone thought Dany, Tyrion, or even Jaime could die? In the best case scenario, D&D would be burning their budget (literally) to cause Bronn or Dickon Tarly’s death.

Hey, don’t look at me like that; Dickon Tarly has more personality than most of the cast at this point.

Extra notes

Can I admit that I nearly hissed at D&D’s names when I saw them in the opening credits?

See you next week for the later half of this mess.