#i have told this bastard sO MANY TIMES to not abandon me in the evening to cover his TEN+ MINUTE BATHROOOOM BREAAAAAAAAKS!!!!!!!!

[kxllerblond]

oooh there about to be some mfing ND on ND crime at work if this fucker keeps trying me

[thewritetofreespeech]

A Whole New World

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: in the wake of all the rats abandoning ship, you ask Aemond to leave King's Landing with you as well. [sort of in the vein of my tv show series?? mostly because I want to keep it seperate from the rest of my HOTD stuff that is more book related. part -X XX XXX]

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“Let’s leave this place.”

Aemond looked up at you from his table. Maps and plans littering the surface. There were not enough hours in the day to make headway on a plan to attack or thwart Rhaenyra, so they had moved into your bedroom. “We will leave for Harrenhall in a few days’ time.” He told you. “We will be off soon enough.”

“No, I mean leave this place.” You told him. “Leave Westeros.”

Your husband looked shocked at your suggestion. Understandably. “You would have me leave Westeros. Leave my birthright.”

“It is not yours Aemond.” It was a bitter truth, but a truth none the less, and you were the only one that could tell him that without threat of death.

None of this was supposed to be theirs. Aegon nor Aemond. Deep down they all knew that. Knew that Viserys had not wavered in his final moments on who his favorite child was. Who his first and only was. Alicent could have given the former king 100 sons, and it would not have made up for the one he lost with his first wife. “Rhaenyra now has 7 dragons to our 1 with her dragon mongrels taking flight. Besides which her armies.”

“I have Vhagar!” Aemond shouted in anger. Rising to his feet. “The oldest, strongest, largest dragon in all Seven Kingdoms.”

“And a pack of wild dogs can take down a lion if their numbers are great. I am not trying to upset you Aemond, I’m simply following the maths.”

The prince took a deep breath though his nose and turned from you. Annoyed that you were right, but clearly didn’t want to admit it. “You want me to abandon the city, ney? Run away and hide like the rest of those cowards!”

Aegon had left the city, for his own protection. To where, you could not be sure. That may have been by design as many whispered about how Aemond would kill him in his bed if given the chance. You knew he wouldn’t do that; if for nothing else than the simple fact that it would be dishonorable to murder a cripple in their bed unarmed. His mother had been missing for days at a time now. Uninterested in the war efforts since her dismissal from the council. Such was her right, but the fact that she wouldn’t look you in the eye these days did not grant you comfort on what the former Queen was thinking. The rest seemed to slip out under the cover of darkness. Less and less people seemed to be in the castle. The rats saw that the ship was sinking and were abandoning it quickly.

“I don’t want you to ‘run away’ Aemond. I want you to live.”

Aemond huffed and turned from you again. “Better to die in battle then wither in obscurity.”

“And if you die, and Rhaenyra takes the city, what of me then? Die an honorable suicide like the Queens of old? Be a political prisoner here until the Queen forces me to marry one of her bastard heirs as a good will gesture?”

That got Aemond’s attention. The idea that you could die not nearly as infuriating as the thought that one of Rhaenyra’s “strong boys”, or even her Targaryen brood, would touch you. “That would never happen.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t. Rhaenyra would have to kill me. If not for the simple fact that I would not bend the knee, but also for the fact that I am a charge to her claim.”

Your hand came to rest at your stomach. Still the same, but not for long. Aemond’s eye followed your hand, and his expression turned to shock before you raised his face to look at you with your other hand. “There are more world out there, my love. Across the Narrow Sea. Beyond. We could take Vhagar and make a new kingdom like your ancestors. We don’t have to stay here and fight over this one. We could have so much more.”

Aemond’s gaze dropped from your hold, but he took your hand at his cheek and held it. “You would have me abandon my family? Turn my back on them?”

“Have they not turned their back on you?” They blamed Aemond for everything. As if he put Aegon up on that stage and gave him a crown. You weren’t naïve enough to think your husband was blameless in his actions during this war, but they were looking for a scapegoat at this point and Aemond was the convenient target. “We are each other’s family now. We are all that matters.”

“Daeron….”

“He can come with us.” You felt maddened to the point of tears. You were fond of Daeron, the few times you had met. A sweet boy who was free of this place. Though you would honestly say anything to Aemond at this point to get him to come. “Helaena too, if you wish. We will fly to some far away place like Aegon and his sisters. Just please….please…let us leave this place.”

Aemond seemed to think about it for a long moment, before he gave you his answer and that was the end of it.

In the morning, Vhagar took flight over the city. Whether she went to Harrenhall with her rider or parts unknown, no one could know then. What was sure, as the histories tell us, was that it would be the last time the great dragon, her rider, or his wife ever came back to the city.

[giddyfatherchris]

📱skz texts —how they react/comfort you (when you're going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. bang chan, lee know

warnings. mentions of homophobia, anxiety and depression (but not going in depth with any of these subjects)

a/n. FINALLY!! channie and lee know’s part babyyyy honestly i kept procrastinating but today i decided enough is enough.😤 again, these are not in order but i cannot be 🎶booOoOoOthereeeddd�� so :) hope you enjoy mwah xxx

changbin, seungmin & i.n

hyunjin, han & felix

Lee Know

He knew from your texts you were not in your normal state. You were usually such a bubbly person, but when you answered so drily to his questions, he knew something was wrong.

As he waited for you to come home, he couldn't help but pace in his apartment. You weren't living together yet, but you spent so much time at his flat that you claimed it as your second home comfortably. In the 15 minutes it took for you to arrive, Lee Know had prepared himself for many scenarios, but he could have never predicted how you opened harshly the door and slammed it shut. Your ritual of crouching on the floor, calling for his three cats, was brutally ignored as you stomped to the kitchen.

"Hi, baby." He tentatively tried. Cautious, he kept his distance as you grunted in answer. You opened the fridge door, looked for a milli second before you closed it, then repeated the same process with the pantry. You made yourself a glass of water, didn't even take a sip, and grumbled as you looked in front of you, not really seeing anything. You abandoned it on the counter, ready to stomp away, when Lee Know put himself in your trajectory.

"What's going on?"

You would have kept walking if he hadn't grabbed you by the shoulders and blocked you from carrying on.

"Uh?" you looked at him as if you were just now seeing him. "Nothing, something at work, it's enraging." 

"Then please tell me so I can know who to kill," he replied in an equally angered tone. His hold on your shoulders tightened slightly at the thought someone had hurt you. 

You looked at him, surprised. "What, kill someone?" 

"Please, Y/n. I've never seen you like this. I don't know what happened, but for it to put you in that state, I'm guessing it's pretty serious." 

He had to pull it out of you, but you finally explained how you discovered one of your coworkers, who you considered a friend, was, in fact, a raging homophobic, queer-hating asshole. When you first heard him comment on someone else wearing a rainbow pin, you had laughed it off, thinking he was being dumb, but he kept adding on, and you realized, horrified, that he was being serious. 

Cherry on top, when you told him you were pansexual, he had stared at you with this idiotic air and asked if you were attracted to kitchen appliances. It ended up with you terminating that 'friendship' and leaving the office completely enraged. 

Your boyfriend listened carefully to your story. His piercing eyes set on you when he finally stated, "I have no idea how you managed not to smack him in the face." 

You let out a dry chuckle, telling the story again only egged you on, and brought up a familiar gloom you hadn't felt in a while. Immediately, he noticed the change in your demeanor, how the burning rage had simmered to a profound sadness. "Hey, it's okay, you can report the bastard, you know. He can't go around saying stuff like that."

You wrapped your arms around your middle, your lower lip softly shaking as you exhaled. "It's been a long time since I've been directly in contact with someone like that. I'm mad at myself for not seeing it maybe others knew, and they considered me badly for hanging out with him. I feel so bad."

He pulled you to him, softly resting his chin on top of your head. "Some people are really good at hiding who they truly are. He never said anything before, you never could have known."

"I know, but I somewhat feel like a traitor to my community," you covered your face with your hands before hiding in his chest. "Is that dumb?"  

He softly pushed you back and leveled his gaze with yours. "That is a little dumb because you did not betray your community, okay? You can't betray someone if you've also been fooled. And you know what's the best thing to do now? Report his ass. I'm sure if you do, there will be others who feel comfortable speaking up."

Your eyes lit up at his suggestion. "You're right. I want queer people to feel safe at work. The thought that I might have been seen as someone who would threaten that makes me sick. But if I speak up, that could change. Maybe we could even create a committee to do sensibilization about homophobia in the workplace." The gloom in your eyes was replaced with a fire. "One thing is sure, I won't let it happen again.

He gave you an adorable grin as he softly grabbed your chin. "My little fighter, I'm proud of you."

Your eyes disappeared into a happy smile as you hugged him again. "Thank you for always supporting me, although I am slightly scared of how little it took to convince you to kill someone." 

He laughed before grabbing you over his shoulder and whispered with a diabolical expression. "You shouldn't." 

Because really, there shouldn't be a doubt in your mind that this man was ready to make anyone who hurt you pay a terrible price. 

Bang Chan

The leader rubbed his hands on his face in an attempt to wipe away all the exhaustion. He looked back at his computer screen, feeling a violent cramp in his head causing his eyes to squeeze shut of their own accords. 

"Okay, okay. I get it. No more computer today."

He grabbed his phone before getting up, pleading his eyes to survive one last exposure to the light of a screen. He clicked on your name and quickly typed in, asking you what you wanted to eat for dinner but all signs of fatigue disappeared once he saw your answer. Worry replaced any feelings in his heart, his tired eyes fixed on the device.

What could have happened for you to be so down? He knew you were dealing with a difficult friend lately, but could it have gotten this bad so quickly? He wondered if he should push it, ask you more, but as his eyes started burning again he realized it would probably be of no help and he should wait for you to get home. Chan looked around the apartment, an uneasy feeling in his chest, a restlessness agitating his limbs. You were hurting and he couldn’t stay still, waiting for you to arrive. Then it clicked, he looked at your messages once again, closed the app and started dialing a number he was starting to know very well. As the line rang, a smirk slowly took place on his full lips.

You tiredly entered your apartment, welcomed with a delicious aroma. You kicked your boots off, more than ready to change into comfortable clothes and hug your boyfriend. 

Your heart melted at the sight waiting for you in the kitchen. Chan, his sleeve rolled up, showing his strong forearms, was very focused on the pots and pans burbling in front of him. He softly hummed to the soft jazz music playing in the background, completely oblivious to the world around him. You silently walked to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, loving how his strong back felt on your cheek through his clothes. 

"Jesus! You scared me," he whined, still, you could hear the smile in his voice as his hands wrapped around yours. "How are you?"

You didn't answer, feeling tears prickling your eyes and that burning sensation in your nose when you knew you were about to cry. You buried your face in his clothes, hoping it would muffle the sound of your sobs. 

"Y/n?" he quickly turned around, realizing you were far from okay. "Hey, baby what's going on?"

Violent sobs shook your body as you slid to the floor engulfed in Chan’s reassuring embrace, allowing you to let it all go. Once you calmed down enough to take a big breath, he asked again. "Baby, what happened?" 

Softly, he brushed his fingers through your hair. He was a calm and reassuring presence for you in all the chaos. You knew you could trust him, knew you could tell him anything and he would be there for you.

"You know my ´friend’, our relationship was already rocky, I knew that, but I thought it was getting better. When we studied together the other day, we talked so much, about anything and everything and even personal stuff. I thought we were getting over that petty argument, but today I heard them tell other people from my classes how I was faking my anxiety disorder and depression symptoms. They said I only did it to get attention and that I- I was an addict." Your voice broke on the last word, horrified that such words could have come out of their mouth.

Chan had to fight everything in him not to go after them right now. If there was one thing he despised it was when the ones he loved were hurt. He couldn't bear it. He knew how hard it had been for you to get a diagnosis and start taking medication. How could someone be heartless enough to make such comments? 

"I heard some of the people in the group defend me, but still... I can't believe it. I'm so stupid, I never should have told them about it."

"Y/n. You are not stupid. They are the assholes. You are not stupid for trusting someone you thought was a friend okay? I don't ever want you to think you are stupid for that."

You looked at him with teary eyes. He felt himself melt and soften, all anger disappearing when he realized how badly you needed him. "You are not stupid. You are not faking anything." he softly stroked your cheeks, wiping away the tears as he did. "I'm so proud of you for reaching out for help. I'm proud of you every damn day, and you know the people who really love you do too." You closed your eyes, relishing in his warm touch, allowing his soft voice to erase every doubt and fear. He softly kissed your forehead, "Okay?"

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you I don't know what I would do without you."

"You would still do amazing because you are one of the strongest person I've ever met."

You chuckled at his comment. "You're so cheesy. Still, I'm pretty happy to have you." You lifted your head towards the stove. "Especially if you tell me you've been cooking for me." You took a deep breath in, finally registering what it was you were smelling. You looked back at him, already smiling, a look of surprise on your face. "Is- is that my mom’s… How, how did you do it?"

A proud and satisfied expression was printed on his features. "You wanted your mom’s spaghetti so I called and asked her to help me make it. Turns out the recipe isn’t that hard." He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear while you stared at him like he was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen, which he was.

"I can’t believe you did that. My mother has never told anyone her recipe!"

"Yeah, about that. I might have had to make a deal with her to get it…" You rolled your eyes, ready to hear some embarrassing stunt your mother pulled on your boyfriend. "I had to explain why I wanted the recipe, and she might have made me promise we’d go visit your family in two weeks while you’re on spring break."

You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, asking him a thousand time if he was kidding, if this was really happening, while he promised over and over again it was. You pulled back to look at the satisfied smile growing on his lips. Chan was a sure value in your life, maybe the only true one, and as you looked at him, his dimpled smile and the satisfaction he had in preparing all this for you, you knew this was it. He was everything you would ever need.

[jasmineoolongtea]

geto suguru isn't exactly sure how he got here.

there are a lot of other things he probably should be doing on a thursday afternoon after school and waiting here in an abandoned classroom for you, like some kind of lovesick puppy, is definitely not on that list of things to do.

he entertains the thought of leaving for a second but that idea goes straight out of the window when he sees your face appear in the doorway.

"sorry for being late. i hope i didn't make you wait for too long." you apologise with a bashful smile as you stumble into the empty classroom.

you're slightly out of breath to the point where you have to take a second before speaking, your cheeks are flushed with colour and suguru thinks you've never looked more beautiful than now.

"no, it's fine. i don't mind waiting for you."

he's pretty sure that he could wait forever if he knew you were there on the other side though you don't need to know that.

when you place your hand in his and he rests his against your waist, he can't help but think about how well you fit into him like it was moulded just for him and he wonders for a split second if there's even a chance that you share a fraction of what's going through his mind right now.

your moves are awkward and unsure, 'all because of your two left feet' (in your own words, not his), and while even the most patient of people would have been on their last straw with how many times you've accidentally stepped on his feet, to suguru, they just add to your unique charm that he's certain he'll spend lifetimes searching for anything that might come close to it.

as much as he wants to pull away because you have this strange effect on him where you can render him breathless in the blink of an eye with a single touch or stray glance, he also hates each and every second he can't be in your presence and this is one of the few moments he's afforded some respite from the enormity of his feelings.

suguru isn't a masochist (as far as he's aware) however you're making him reconsider a lot of things about himself.

truth be told, he doesn't even know why he agreed to this in the first place, he damn well knows that he is probably the furthest thing from a professional dancer and there's a part of him that feels bad for lying straight to your face but when he sees how relieved you are when he agrees to your request, he's sure that lying can't be that bad in the grand scheme of things.

"you should..." he trails off, fall for me instead.

"hmm? what did you say suguru?"

you're looking at him so expectantly like you truly want to know what he's going to say next and he wishes that you would always look at him like that for if that was the case, he might just have the courage to spill the thoughts that plague his every waking moment.

"oh, no i was just saying that you should not worry so much. i'm sure you'll be fine." actually, he's sure you'll do more than fine but once again, he bites his tongue.

maybe if he was more brazen and cared less about him, he would curse out satoru for being such a lucky bastard, so lucky in fact, that he gets to be the one who can hold you in his arms. unfortunately for him, he's not that type of person, and even worse for him, he doesn't live in a world where he's the one who has your stomach in knots.

the sun is setting below the horizon and soon, the world will be plunged into a familiar darkness there's an uncomfortable feeling pooling within his gut that tells him that this moment can't last forever and you'll go running back into the arms of someone you truly belong with (no matter how much he tries to will it into existence).

nevertheless, he'll take one night of slow dancing with you in the dark over nothing and foolishly pretend that this is something that it isn't.

[anyarose011]

Bah, Humbug! {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Realizing you are stuck over winter break in the school your father (with many nicknames such as: Rat Bastard, Colossal Asshole, or the most popular, Walleye) teaches at, you try to make the best of it. Or, at least the best you can make it with five other boys your age

Part 1 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, feminism (abandon all hope ye who enter if this has to be a warning), sarcastic reader, Teddy Kountze, and casual racism (a subsection to Teddy Kountze)

You've heard of "Paul Hunham being a father figure" now I present to you: "Paul Hunham being a girl-dad and an academic rivals to lovers with Angus Tully". I became obsessed with this movie, and decide to add my own spin onto it. It's also my first time writing for Tumblr, so I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4.8k

“You said we were going to Copenhagen this year.”

The first nine words you said to your father after he told you about the predicament the both of you were in.  He sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I know.” You haven’t heard him trying to be this understanding since…you couldn’t recall. “I don’t want to be stuck here just as much as you-.”

“-So then just say no.”

He scoffed, yet still smiled. “It’s a stupid lottery, and my name got picked.”

“Bullshit-.”

“-Hey.” He warned.

Sighing, you glanced out your window. Thin specks of snow were falling onto the already pure as white ground, cascading down the roofs of houses. At least it was snowing and would resemble somewhat of a nice Christmas.

“Can we at least do something fun?” You questioned.

“I thought you said men don’t deserve to have fun the same way they think women don’t deserve rights?”

“Do the boys you teach think the same?” You looked at him.

He shrugged. “Not really in my field of work to get to know them.”

“Wonderful.” You rolled your eyes.

Your father squeezed your shoulder. “Yes, we can have little activities that children your age would consider fun. Still, I vow to enhance their intellect and schoolwork, considering that most of them are…lackluster.”

“Does this mean that I’ll get to drag their asses in mythology trivia?”

“In colloquial terms, yes.”

That brought a smile to your face, and you got up from your bed. “I think I’ll make dinner tonight if that’s alright?” You didn’t wait for him to answer as you left the room. “Maybe pie? I know Mary taught me-.”

“-Woah, woah, woah.” He followed you out into the hallway, stopping you. “We’re not eating here.”

You blinked, the only sound forming from your throat being. “Huh?”

He sighed as if going to tell you the worst news in the world (at the time, oh boy, was it). “They’re cutting the power to the faculty housing, so we’re going to be living at the school over winter break.”

Your face drops along with your heart, shock settling in. “Say that again?”

“We’re going to be living at the school-.”

“-No I heard you.”

“Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?”

“You’re telling me,” you bring on the drama, raising your voice. “I have to lodge with teenage boys?! The cursed sex?!”

He sighed. “You won’t be sleeping in the same room as them-.”

“-I can’t even look at you right now.” You pushed past him, going back into your room and tossing yourself onto your bed.

“Countess Natalya,” he taunts tiredly, knowing you hope your melodramatic attitude would wear him down. “we don’t have a choice.”

You point at him, not bringing your face up from your pillow. “Don’t you dare bring Natasha into this, she would react the same way!”

He laughed. “You get your stubbornness from your mother.”

“I get it from my father!” That’s what made you turn and bring your head up.

There’s a silence with tenseness lacing it like icing on a cake. Paul Hunham’s sigh of frustration broke it, approaching you. “Whether we like it or not, we’re stuck here. Whether we like it or not, we’re going to have to endure the attitude of pubescent boys who, I guarantee you, even when their frontal lobes form at twenty-five, will still be inconsiderate, full of themselves, and not know what true hard work is…We don’t get to do things we want all the time, that’s the reality of the situation.”

You still wore the same, spiteful look on your face as he told you this; as if you were a little girl being told, no, you can’t stay up until midnight tonight. Then, once he was finished, the look subsided only a little.

“I hate you.” Was your reply.

He ruffled your hair. “You’re the light of my life too, Jo March.” With that, he stood up with a pleasant smile. “But no worries, I don’t expect you to deal with the inadequacy of the male testosterone.” He then left the room, and you could hear his voice echo. “Now pack your things; clothes, toiletries, your books above everything, I know.”

He still continued to ramble, but in all honestly, it wasn’t important enough to this day for you to remember. All that was going through your head, was that you were going to spend almost a month in a musty, falling apart, preparatory school, with who knew how many musty teenage boys.

It was then you started planning how exactly you’d fly to Copenhagen by yourself.

That only lasted for about two minutes when you realized that your father had your passport locked in a safe with his, and you weren’t really in the mood to lockpick that day (or learn how to for that matter). So instead, you spent the majority of the time packing your suitcase, and your father was right; your books were the most important ones you’d pack.

You didn’t initially plan on socializing with the boys, so you nearly brought your entire library of books to entertain yourself; the only thing stopping you from bringing all of it was, besides your father, the copious amounts of clothing. You didn’t quite like planning out what outfit you’d wear for each day, so it was better to be safe and bring choices.

Your father had gone ahead of you to help the Boys Left Behind (a title you wouldn’t tell anyone for a few years), settle in. Settle in being him being your father and setting the ground rules whilst running that school like the damn Navy. So, there you were, walking through the ankle-deep snow with your backpack and suitcase that was meant for Copenhagen.

The school only had a few buildings; two dormitories for the boys, a small shack for the maintenance, the chapel, and one large building consisting of all the classrooms, dining hall, infirmary, and whatever else was needed for a rich, all American boy education system.

Perhaps you’d gotten a taste of what the American Revolutionists felt at Valley Forge when you heard a voice call.

“Hey!”

You looked up from where you stood and saw five boys near the courtyard by a pickup truck. Your blood, if not already freezing from the winter snow, ran cold at the sight. The same boy yelled again.

“Do you need help, are you lost?”

You shook your head, pitching our voice up a bit higher and shouting back.

“No, thank you!”

Trying to continue on your way, you looked up again to see one of them running towards you. Cursing to yourself, you tried to keep your head low and pick up the pace, but you got to see him one he was closer to you. His face was boyish, and you first thought he was a sophomore at first. His hair to his shoulders, something you didn’t expect to see for someone attending such a prestigious school. And…damn it all, he was attractive (for a boy your age).

“Hi,” he greeted you warmly with his hand out. “Jason Smith.”

You looked at it for a moment (still a bit blindsided how someone at this school could be so genuine) before shaking and giving him your name. He shook his head, chuckling as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket.

“You’re Hunham’s daughter?”

Oh…perhaps you shouldn’t have told him that. Still, you tried to let it roll off your back and played it cool, laughing along with him. “Yeah, I’m stuck over here with you guys.”

“Well, hopefully we won’t get on your nerves too badly. Do you want me to carry that for you?” He offered.

“Oh.” You looked down at your suitcase and handed it to him. “Go ahead, thank you.”

Jason took it, and the both of you began to make your trek up the small hill with the truck. He was being a gentleman, so you decided to keep the conversation going.

“So, why’re you here?”

He shrugged. “My family usually goes skiing for the holidays, but my old man won’t let me go until I cut my hair.”

“That’s really mean of him.” You stated.

Jason snorted “You should tell him that.”

“I will.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For sure.” You went ahead of him, turning around and walking backwards up the hill. “Give me his number and I’ll give him a stern talking to.”

That only made him laugh harder. “You should study to be a lawyer; you make a great case.”

“My father said the same thing once; I just personally have a theory that all parents tell their children they’d be good lawyers because they argue with them. As if it’s not a child’s right to argue.”

“You’re well-spoken too.”

“For a woman?”

You saw panic pale his face. “What?”

A smile couldn’t help but make its way to your mouth. “Only teasing.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Scared me for a moment.”

“Yeah?” You joked, turning back over your shoulder as you felt yourself at the top of the summit. “I usually get that a lot. That’s why my da-.”

Once your eyes drifted up to see the rest of the Boys Left Behind, your words fell silent. The youngest ones, who you assumed to be freshman, you did not recognize but knew immediately they would be kinder than the two whom you already knew.

Teddy ‘I only lost because I went easy on you’ Kountze, and Angus ‘I know more than you’ Tully.

These motherfuckers.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Angus groaned.

Teddy merely blinked, as if he couldn’t believe it. “What’re you doing here?”

“She’s Walleye’s kid, idiot.” Angus pointed out. “Of course she’d be here.”

Jason looked between the three of you. “You know each other?”

With whatever self-control you had (and you barely had any), you kept calm. “They’re just sore losers I met months ago.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Hunham wasn’t proud of us after one test, so he called in her one day, and we had to basically go up against her in some bullshit trivia match.”

“Wait,” Jason looked back at you. “so it was you versus the entire class?”

You stood proudly. “Uh huh.”

“Lost to this dickwad of all people.” Teddy slapped Angus’ back. “We couldn’t believe she met her match; she tore apart almost everyone else in class.”

 “So then why are you acting like you did any better?” You tried your best to sound as if you were joking but were also dead serious.

He scoffed. “Doesn’t matter if I did; you still lost.”

Rolling your eyes, they soon fell onto the youngest pair, staring up at you as if in study. You smiled, holding out your hand, introducing yourself. “What’re your names?”

The one with glasses and black hair shook yours first. “Ye-Joon.”

Then the boy paler than a lightbulb and cheeks turning red from the cold. “Alex.”

“And what’re you two doing here?”

Ye-Joon spoke first. “My family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Teddy snickered.

“What’s a rickshaw?”

You shrugged, despite knowing what it was. “Not sure, I am sure that he’s an idiot though.”

Teddy acted as if you were flirting with him. “Highest compliment I’ve ever gotten from you.”

“What about you?” Jason questioned. “You’re Hunham’s kid, but do you go to school in town or…?”

“Homeschooled.” You weren’t the one who responded. All eyes went to Agnus Tully, still smoking a cigarette and averting his eyes from everyone. “Which checks out.”

You tilted your head, hiding your growing nerves with a surprised smile. “Aw, look at that; Frankenstein’s Monster does have the capacity to memorize things.”

The only one who laughed was Teddy, and you almost wanted to take it back.

Angus just shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what kind of schtick it is to be the angry girl, but it doesn’t look nice on you.”

“Hey, leave the lady alone.” Jason stepped in.

“Lady?” He said the word as if it was foreign to call you that.

“Yes,” you agreed with Jason despite how much you didn’t want to, but your desire to humble Angus Tully outweighed your morals (a reoccurring theme for the Winter of 1970). “I’m a lady.”

“For how much you start fights, I wouldn’t call you one.”

“Ladies do not start fights, but they can sure as hell finish them.”

He merely rolled his eyes and went back to smoking. Fair enough…him not engaging only made him look like the bigger person. Still, it wasn’t worth it for you to continue beating a tall, dead, dumb, horse with curly hair.

“What’s your story?” Jason asked Alex.

“Oh,” he sounded shocked. “my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?”

Teddy asked before he could respond. “Do you guys wear some kind of magic underwear?”

You turned to Jason and whispered as Alex went into an explanation. “I’m going to slap him into next semester the next time some stupid shit leaves his mouth.”

He tried to hide his smile. “I don’t think any of us would mind, to be honest.”

“Hey,” Teddy interrupted. “what’s with the townies?”

Everyone turned to the chapel and saw two men carrying the Christmas tree out. Agnus yelled. “Excuse me! What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us!” He responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

The other one added. “Yeah, we’re gonna put it back on the lot. Do it every year.”

“This is the most bullshit ever.” Angus shook his head, then looking at you. “Did you know about this?”

You couldn’t even respond right away, the question was so ludicrous. “I had no idea about being stuck here with you idiots until about an hour ago, so I naturally knew the townies would steal your Christmas tree.”

“Unbelievable.” He muttered under his breath, putting out the cigarette and heading towards the main building.

The rest of the boys’ gaze drifted to you, and all you said was. “Do you think he’d believe me if I told him they worked for the Grinch?”

You were more than halfway through A Christmas Carol when you were in the room you shared with your father in the infirmary. He was chatting with Mary, the head cook and the closest woman you would have to a mother figure, downstairs, leaving you by yourself.

Not exactly.

In the next room, you knew Alex, Ye-Joon, and Angus shared one, and then Teddy and Jason. They were quiet for the most part, save for Kountze tossing a tennis ball against the wall, but it stopped bothering you after a few minutes.

 You’d read the Charles Dickens’ tale a million times, but you couldn’t help and see how many similarities Angus Tully shared with Ebenezar Scrooge. It would be a lie if anyone were to ever claim you didn’t have hobbies; what would they call you assigning fictional characters to real people?

You found yourself beginning to pace around the room the more you read. Whilst voices raising in the background grew louder, you didn’t know exactly what had been happened until you wandered in on Tully and Kountze having a fight you could only summarize as it being straight out of Lord of the Flies.

You knew how that story ended, so with one look, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Finding a quiet corner outside of the infirmary, you thought you were safe when-.

Your father yelled your name. “Could you come here, please?”

Roling your eyes, you yelled back. “You told me not to deal with the inadequacy of the male testosterone, so that’s what I’m doing!”

He called for you again, and you groaned, bookmarking where you were and marching back to the infirmary. All five boys and your father stood before you, and you leaned against the doorframe, making it known you wanted to be anywhere but there.

Paul Hunham sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to know who started this ‘Not fight’ mister Ollerman described to me?”

Your eyes drifted to Tully (for reasons, you had no idea), who simply glared back at you. You could’ve done it…lied about him starting it even though you had no idea; it’s what he deserved for being an ass you to that day, and for winning months ago.

But, where you were a bitch, you were also just.

“No,” you stated. “I don’t know.”

He thinned his lips, turning back to everyone. “All right then, we’ll do it like the Roman Legions. Absent a confession, one man’s sin is every man’s suffering. For every minute the truth is withheld, you will all receive a detention.”

“And I thought all the Nazis were hiding in Argentina.” Angus mumbled.

“Stifle it, Tully.” Your father refuted.

You shrugged (this somehow being the first time you agreed with Angus Tully). “He’s got a point; you’re breaking the Geneva Convention if you do.”

“The what?” Teddy scrunched his nose.

“Well,” Your father sighed as he said your name. “if you want to have an opinion on the matter, you can join them as well.”

“I don’t even go here!”

“Well, you’re standing under the roof right now. Now in the first of said detentions, you will clean the library. Top to bottom. Scraping the underside of the desks, which are caked with snot and gum and all manner of ancient, unspeakable proteins. On your hands and knees, down in the dust, breathing in the dead skin of generations of students and desiccated cockroach assholes.”

“It was Kountze!” Little Alex pointed to him. “Kountze started it!”

While the guilty party in question’s face had dropped, you watched as your father’s brightened. “Bravo, Mister Ollerman. Bravo.”

It must’ve off put Mary how you were smiling in the kitchen when you picked up the pitcher of water and bread as she got the platters of chicken and potatoes and asparagus.

Still, she asked. “How bad of a day was it for you to be smiling as you serve the men at the table?”

“Eh,” you began. “I would rather be on a plane to Copenhagen right now, but being stuck at this hell hole with you makes it tolerable; better, even.

Mary smiled at that. “Feeling’s mutual, Jane Bennett.”

“I’m Lizzie.” You playfully whined.

“And I can’t be bothered to finish that book.” She teased, and the two of you were beginning to make your way to the dining hall.

“Speaking of books, do you have another one I could borrow?” You asked.

“Already?” Mary sounded surprised. “I gave you that book last week.”

“And I finished it in a few days, I just haven’t had the chance to ask you.”

She shook her head as you pushed through the door out into the dining hall, holding it for her. “I’ll recommend the Bible next time to keep you occupied for longer.”

“I think I’ll stick with James Baldwin, if that’s alright.” You jested, then seeing Jason’s lips move as he asked a question, Teddy responded, and then your father spoke quite loudly.

“Consider yourselves lucky. During the third Punic campaign, 149-146 B.C., the Romans laid siege to Carthage for three entire years. By the time it ended, the Carthaginians were reduced to eating sand and drinking their own urine. Hence the term punitive.”

You and Mary set down the food, and you scrunched your nose in disgust at your father’s ‘fun fact’ while sitting beside Jason and facing Angus. It took everything in your bones not to burst out in laughter to see Teddy Kountze sitting at the edge of the table like a toddler having a silent tantrum.

“Thank you, Mary.” Your father greeted as everyone began to serve themselves. “Would you maybe care to join us?”

Oh, the look of distaste on Teddy’s face nearly made you lose it. Mary took notice immediately, and she offered a meek smile. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

The same moment the door to the kitchen closed when she left was when Teddy turned to all of you, whispering as if it would help. “I mean…I know she’s sad about her son and everything, but still, she’s being paid to do a job. And she should be doing it well, right?”

If it weren’t for the fact you were chewing on a piece of chicken, and that your father was just two seats away from you, you would’ve given him a piece of your mind. The glare in your eyes would have to suffice.

Still, he opened his dumb mouth to continue. “But I guess, no matter how bad of a cook she is, they can never fire her.”

“Will you shut up?!” Your father hit the table so hard, silverware flew. You’d seen this rage from him before…but it still made you jump. “You have no idea what that woman has been through-!”

His gaze turned to you, and saw the look that could only belong to you in moments like that; where you stiffened yourself and hardened your eyes to look as if you did not know what fear meant. Yet, there was still an undeniable amount of terror even within those eyes you tried to have been the most fearless.

He reigned himself back in. “You know, Mr. Kountze, for most people, life is like a henhouse ladder; shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don’t, I feel sorry for you, and we will not have done our jobs. Now eat.”

The boys obeyed, keeping their heads low. You felt your heart go back to itself, and as you were returning to eating, you heard an irritating voice mumble.

“Not our fault her kid was one of the poor bastards to be drafted.”

It took you three seconds to find Teddy’s foot under the table, and one for you to step on it with all your weight.

He jolted, cursing under his breath before looking at you. “The hell?!”

You feigned innocence, a potato on your fork. “Oh, was that your foot? I’m so sorry.”

Teddy’s eyes tried to burn through your skin as you continued to eat, but you barely felt them. The eyes you did feel on you were soon gone when you looked across from where you sat.

There was Angus Tully, keeping his head down as if he was a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

…Interesting…

What else were you supposed to think?

You finished A Christmas Carol by the time your father forced you to turn out the lights (and then confiscated your flashlight from under your bed…had to think of a better hiding spot). It always took you a while to go to sleep (still does, some nights).

As you laid in darkness, your mind would rush with the worlds you vowed to lose yourself in through the books you read. Frodo had Middle Earth, Emma had Highbury, and you had…Barton, Massachusetts.

Not even Concord like the March Sisters, just plain old Barton.

So, naturally, when your mind had tired itself from living these fantasies, and as you were about to drift off to sleep, your father’s snoring awoke you.

You hadn’t even noticed he came into the room, only when he started snoring to wake the dead. Sighing heavily, you tossed yourself out of bed, and used what moonlight coming in from the windows as your guide. Not long after, you saw that Angus and the freshmen boys drew the short end of the stick in their room choice; there were no curtains to the windows, causing the lamplights to bleed into the room, making it an unfavorable color of piss yellow.

That’s when your eyes drifted to where Jason and Teddy were; a little light peering in from their window facing the moon, and correspondingly, the other bedroom, but still quite dark. Closest to the door…a spare bed.

Yes, it was by Teddy, but your father’s snoring being fainter in that room was enough for you.

But again…it was by Teddy.

So, swallowing your pride, your eyes darted around for a solution, and they landed on Frankenstein’s Monster right behind you. Sighing to yourself, you turned back around into his room, and after thinking of what to say, you shook him awake.

He was somehow relaxed at first when he opened his eyes to see you; but that was just shock, he nearly fell out of bed when his vision adjusted.

“What the hell?!” He gasped, sitting up.

You shushed him, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I need a favor.”

He blinked, looking around to just double check where he was; nope, it wasn’t a bad dream, yep, he was still at Barton. “You appear like one of the fucking ghosts from A Christmas Carol, what could it possibly be?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, Ebenezar Scrooge, my dad snores like he’s trying to be the Giant from Jack and the Beanstalk, and I can’t sleep in there. So, I’m gonna go sleep in the other room, and you gotta wake me up or I’m dead.”

Angus Tully stared at you as if your head had grown horns. “I have no idea what you just said right now because you woke me up at,” he turned and looked at his watch. “oh look, 1am.”

Sighing you bit back a response only because you needed something from him. “Look; I want to actually be able to sleep, and I know I won’t at all if I’m stuck in a room with my dad all night. I’ll sleep in the extra bed in the other room, and you wake me up so that none of us will be killed if I oversleep in a room with teenage boys.”

It’s more than obvious he understood, but he then asked. “Why not just ask one of the guys in the room you’re sleeping in?”

“I don’t trust Kountze with anything and Jason…”

Damn your exhaustion for not being able to come up with a good explanation besides-.

“You like him.” Angus’ face lit up with a teasing glee that unnerved you somehow more than Teddy’s entire existence did that day.

“No!” You immediately deny. “I mean, yes, but in a way that of course I like him because he’s the only one of you assholes who are nice to me. So, I don’t like like him.”

You liar.

Angus scoffed, yet his shit eating grin was still on his face. “What are you, twelve?”

“I was about to ask the same thing since you’re so interested.” You rolled your eyes.

“So why me?” He asked. “You like the freshmen, don’t you trust them more?”

“I like them and actually want them to sleep.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Sighing you said. “I’ll give you whatever you want; not whatever you fucking perve but-.”

“-I never even thought of it like-.”

“-Sure, you didn’t.” You interrupted. “But I got a friend in town, so I can always go and get you stuff. What do you want?”

He took his time thinking; so much time you were tempted to wake Mary up and beg her to let you sleep in her room (you knew she would've let you, but you didn't want to disturb her. You also never questioned your father why he didn't initially have you sleep in Mary's room; more than likely just to give her her own space). Finally, he answered.

“Chocolate and cigarettes.” The look you gave him would’ve made you laugh if you could see it. It only made him scrunch his eyes. “What?"

“That’s it?”

“I'm running out of both, big deal." He scoffed. "Am I allowed to change my mind after each time you pay me? Besides, when will you?”

You shrugged. “I can’t go out every day. I’ll see if he’ll let me the day after tomorrow, so I can stock up then. How about…every three days you wake me up, that’s when I give you stuff. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Holding out your hand, you were surprised he shook it right away. You looked him dead in the eyes when you said. “If any of them try to do anything to me while I sleep, I’m using their own pillow to suffocate them; that goes for you too, clear?”

“Crystal.” He drew his hand away. “I won’t say anything either.”

You nodded in thanks, standing up. Before you could tiptoe to the other room, you looked back at him. “Wake me up at six-thirty; he’ll wake you all up at seven.”

When you turned your back again, he asked in an unsettled fashion. “How?”

You knew that he hated the light flooding the room for a different reason now; to see your smile of mischief before you left.

[ellecdc]

hear me out - a remus fic but set in come back be here, like maybe a muggle and remus is instantly smitten but has no idea how to navigate but everyone is pushing for him to actually go for it and it’s just chaos but in the best way possible… regardless come back be here was AMAZING

CBBH Remus x muggle!barista gn!reader

(Pretend they have phones for this okay? Thank you lol)

CW: just fluff, swearing, self deprecation, making a fool of oneself - you know, the remus lupin special

Remus would describe himself as many things.

He was a wizard. He was a werewolf. He was a business owner. He was an uncle. He was a friend. He was a war hero.

He was also, apparently, a coward.

He knows this to be true because he’s sat in the same spot that he’s been haunting all week – a chair in the far back corner of the café – pretending to look over ledgers in his notebook while he actually watches you work.

It’s fucking pathetic, is what it was.

He watched as you smiled politely at every customer in line – even the ones who weren’t as polite to you as Remus thought they ought to be.

He felt silly, really, watching you like a creep. He shouldn’t be here to begin with. He had stumbled upon this café completely by accident two weeks ago whilst in the city to pick up more muggle literature to add to his bookstore on Diagon Alley.

It was here he saw you, as if you were a siren calling him to this sodding caffeinated inlet to damn him to hell.

What a willing victim he was. 

But he shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t get caught up with you. It was unthinkable. Most witches and wizards would have a hard time coming to terms with someone like, well, someone like him. 

He was a burden. A risk.

It was selfish to think he could entertain the thought of you.

Suddenly, as if she’d known he was talking poorly of himself, his phone buzzed.

Remus tried to steal himself as he took a deep breath. 

Right Lupin, you’ve done scarier things before. He thought to himself. You’ve run with wolves, you’ve gone undercover into enemy bases, you’ve deceived the dark lord right in front of his slimy fucking face, and you’ve even told Sirius once you thought his hair looked weird. By all means, you can talk to a barista.

Except...well...he really kind of couldn’t talk to a barista. He had made it all the way to the counter, even smiled politely at you as he stepped up to the cash register and...

And then words left him. Failed him. Completely abandoned him. He even thinks there may be a little stickie note in his brain that says ‘resignation effective immediately’ where words should be because he’s staring right at you with your gorgeous eyes and lovely hair and perfect features and for fuck sakes why isn’t he saying anything!?!?!

“Is there something I can get for you?” You asked so sweetly like this bloke wasn’t standing with his mouth agape at your cash register making a sure and utter fool of himself; like you had all the time in the world for the poor bastard.

“Uhm, uh...” He tried finally as if only now realizing he had functioning vocal chords. 

“Uhm, fuck, I’m so sorry uhm...”

You chuckled at him. Holy shit you chuckled at him. It was the most beautiful sound Remus thinks he may have ever heard. He hoped you’d do it again, though, at the rate he’s going it was really very likely. 

“I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not usually like this. Uh,” He apologized awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I think you’re lovely and would, uh, like to get to know you. You don’t have to say anything now!” He interrupted as you began to interject. “In fact, for my pride's sake, I’d prefer if you didn’t. But I’d like to leave my number here for you, in case you’d like to text me some time.” 

He offered you the kindest smile he could muster as you took the now crumpled and sort-of-damp-from-his-sweaty-palms note in your hand with a smile of your own.

Now, Remus wouldn’t say he ran out of the café, per se. He would describe it as more of a jaunt, or perhaps a brisk walk. But he did nearly take out a woman with a pram as he all but flung the door open in his haste to get away. 

You stupid ridiculous bastard. He scolded himself as he made his way to the closest apparition point. If Sirius could see you know, you’d never hear the end of it.

His phone buzzed and Remus nearly dropped it in his haste thinking it might be Sirius having somehow actually seen what just took place.

Then he nearly dropped it again as he saw a new text from an unknown number.

Perhaps Remus wasn’t such a coward after all.

[katerinaaqu]

I’m nodding along with your posts cause the thunder saga ending just didn’t sit well with me at all. I feel like once again Odysseus is being characterized as a villain and a totally ruthless, selfish person when that’s just NOT who he is in the Homeric myths. I really enjoyed the start of the musical and I admire Jay’s talent for making music. But it’s missing Odysseus’ character by a long shot and it’s missing the heart of the Odyssey

It wouldn't be the first time. Many post-homeric sources depicted Odysseus as an amoral bastard who would sell anything and anyone to achieve his goals. For instance post-homeric sources have HIM instead of the will of the gods be the one to orchestrate the sacrifice of Iphigenia and leading her to the altar.

Unfortunately Odysseus seems like free game to be turned into the villain of the story since antiquity. And that is because his methods were going against what ancient Greeks considered honorable (aka direct fight) so they strifed to use Odysseus as an example of what one shouldn't be doing plus many who created anti-war plays like Eurypedes wanted Odysseus as the symbol of anything going under the table in a war. Basically the shady aspects of war. In a way it made sense in antiquity even if it was overplayed.

Romans were also divided but many depicted Odysseus as the absolute villain because he is the taker of Troy. The ancient Roman progenitor is Aeneas who runs away from Troy after the massacre. In a way Odysseus is portrayed as the villain by the romans because he took their mythological ancestral city.

However indeed what bothers me is that this musical was not supposed to be some rewrite of Odysseus's persona. It was supposed to be an adaptation from HOMER'S Odyssey and homeric Odysseus is in my opinion the most solid Odysseus. He is not a goodie guy of course. He has tons of flaws and he made many gray decisions but he was still the hero. Not the lowkey villain. He was incredibly loyal to his friends and crew and didn't abandon them before any danger.

The Musical I think ruined his potential. Not just the thunder saga but almost everything from the end of Storm till now. Odysseus does not speak his name to Polyphemus out of his fatigue anger and insult after a week of seclusion and torture. He speaks it out of spite because he just lost his friend (that same friend that was killed off for the sakes of dramatics given that Polites is mentioned only once in the homeric poems and that is on Circe's island), he doesn't sell himself to Circe to save his men apparently no price needed to be paid. He didn't remain a slave for one year close to her. He doesn't get strikes by guilt by ACTUALLY talking to his mother in the underworld or by fear by talking to Achilles or by doubt by talking to Agamemnon. He gets zero definitive answers from Tiresias. He gets no advice from Circe he gets not his experience with Sirens. He didn't gear up to protec his men from Skylla even if Circe told him not to because she was immortal and there would be no point...

Why would anyone claim that they make an adaptation if they do not follow literally anything from the plot?

I absolutely agree. I got my hopes way too high at Troy saga because I loved the way he actually used the Iliou Persis half-saved phrase and turned it into an amazing dilemma. Those first songs were amazing and spoke volumes for the characters. However the more we move in the more disappointed I get.

Yes I still feel happy that a fellow artist shows such passion over music and how he started everything by himself and all but now I feel like he just seeks to change everything from the original and I fail to see why...why must this potential masterpiece be turned into yet another "loosely based on" thing like every typical mainstream Hollywood film? I think my expectation at first increased my disappointment now.

Quite frankly I got a glimpse of Calypso too and they seem they want to turn the story of the poor man practically being raped for 7 years and held prisoner into a bubbly romcom...seriously no...

[rebouks]

Something inside Tristen snapped, Vicky’s grating voice quivering over his shoulder almost made him want to smash his head against the pavement just so he wouldn’t have to hear it anymore. “Trissy-…” He cut her off, whirling to face her with such a crazed look in his eyes that she actually balked. “I don’t fucking want this-.. you; I never have!” Her lips twisted into a pout as she regained her composure. She didn’t like it when he was sober, her little games didn’t work so well when he wasn’t shackled to her approval, her money, her connections.

“You’re acting crazy, can we just-…” He cut her off again, getting up in her face this time. He didn’t care if he scared her, didn’t care what he looked like-.. he wasn’t backing down now, lest she get under his skin again. “You created a life you don’t even want, and what for? Out of pure pettiness, because someone dared treat me with the tiniest amount of decency-.. and you couldn’t even keep your panties on long enough to make sure it was mine!” Still intent on keeping up the charade, Vicky tried to interrupt. “But it is y-…” “IT’S FUCKING NOT!” Tristen spat. Her shoulders drooped, a tiny shift in body language that told him he’d finally won. She’d given it her best shot, but the folded wad of paper hidden in Tristen’s pocket had broken her spell on him. It wasn’t his, she wasn’t his; he was free.

He’d tried to keep it together until he was alone, but the tears had fallen long before he’d managed to reach the solace of his makeshift bedroom. Courtney had followed him shortly thereafter, speaking words he didn’t hear, offering consolation where he didn’t want it.

The shame he’d tried so hard to bury bubbled up without permission, an ugly, strangled sob suddenly muffled by her closeness. She cradled him like one of her own. Like Robin after a bad dream, like Byrd when he hurt himself doing something he shouldn’t, or Wren when she couldn’t sleep; and to her surprise, he’d let her.

He could hardly remember what she’d said, or how long she’d held him like that, but before he knew it, he was alone again; drifting off into an emotionally spent slumber like a soothed child.

Tristen had grown fond the Bay, though like anywhere else he’d been, it’d soon become tainted with failure, regret and embarrassment. Oscar had tried all morning to convince him to stay, but it was no use, he’d made up his mind. He didn’t know where he was going, he didn’t care what happened to his flat or what useless possessions lay within; he’d snapped his phone in half, he had his bag, he had his hat, his shaky sobriety and his sanity. That was enough to get by, for now.

Tristen was going to do what he did best, run away; except this time, he’d accepted the situation for what it was. So, what if he was fleeing? Maybe he wasn’t meant to stay in situ, wasn’t meant to let his rotten roots take hold anywhere. The longer he stayed somewhere, the more time there was for things to go pear-shaped. King Midas’s illegitimate bastard, turning everything he touched to shit instead of gold.

Oscar sighed. “You can’t just.. leave.” “I can’t stay either…” Tristen pleaded. He didn’t want to argue, and his resolve wasn’t infinite. Shaking his head, Oscar released Tristen’s shoulder with one last squeeze that said; okay, but you better look after yourself. There wasn’t much more he could’ve said with words. The silence between the pair was broken as Tristen straightened himself, adjusting his hat with a forced, lopsided grin; almost like he was trying to feign excitement. “Thanks for everything…”

Oscar nodded, standing helplessly at the edge of the driveway as Tristen set out. He wondered how many times he’d done this; how many places he’d abandoned, how many people he’d cut off. “Maybe I’ll see you around…” he suggested. Tristen threw a rueful smile over his shoulder. “Maybe.”

Previous // Next

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 4

A/N: Look at me updating and not completely abandoning a work! I literally have no plans for this chapter I'm just gonna freeball it and hope it gets where it should go. I read a really sad Ascended Astarion fic last night that I want to flush out of my brain by rambling on and on with fluff

Also Astarion and Shawdowheart are besties and helping each other work through some trauma

Masterlist Part 3

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

Astarion emerged from trance sluggishly, feeling unusually well-rested. No nightmares clung to the backs of his eyes, and he was so warm.

He froze, suddenly alert.

He was never warm.

But she was.

His eyes snapped open and he took in the scene. The room looked stark in the morning light that cascaded through the skylight above; the previously flickering candles melted to stubs that dripped over the side of the bed table. And, of course, there was her. She took up most of the bed, her arms akimbo and hair splayed messily across the pillow. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she snored a little with each deep inhale. She was still shirtless; he took inventory of each scar and freckle dotted across the expanse of her skin. His limbs were tangled in hers, and he couldn't ignore the extra heat where his leg split hers open. Fuck.

They were so wound together that she stirred at even his slightest movement; he was trying to angle his morning excitement away from her hip.

"You better not be trying to get out of this bed."

Her voice was thick with sleep, eyes still closed as she yanked the blanket back up over their shoulders.

He chuckled awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He couldn't remember the last time he woke up in bed with someone. At once the warmth was both suffocating and intoxicating; he wanted to nestle back into her so badly, but he felt exposed and vulnerable in the sunlight. He tried to deflect.

"Darling, we have a very busy day today. There are so many goblins to kill! I should think you'd want plenty of time for your breakfast."

"I can have breakfast any day. I likely won't get to share a proper bed with you again until we reach Baldur's Gate, and I intend to enjoy it."

Astarion grinned in spite of himself. "Very bold of you to assume I'd jump into bed with you again. You must think you're quite the cuddle."

Smiling, she finally opened her eyes and looked into his. His stomach flipped at the expression they conveyed, all sweetness and sleepy desire.

"You wound me. And here I thought we had something special." She let out an overly dramatic sigh. "If you'd rather room with Gale in Baldur's Gate, I suppose I can understand. Just give me some time to get over it."

He was too weak to resist her. Her charming playfulness, her nudity, and her gentle hands on his shoulders were a heady mixture that his conscience simply couldn't contend with. He succumbed to the warmth, closing the distance between them with a hungry kiss that left them both a little breathless.

"If my only lodging option is Gale in the future," Astarion told her seriously, "I'm taking a page out of Lae'zel's book and swearing off beds altogether. I refuse to be the first person that dies in a Netherese orb explosion."

Giggling, she stroked his cheek and replied, "I swear to never make you bunk with Gale if you admit that I'm the best cuddle you've ever had."

Astarion rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation and she playfully slapped his cheek lightly, still giggling. "You bastard."

"Very well," he sighed, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose to hers in a way so a nauseatingly sweet he would certainly punish himself for it later, "you are the best cuddle I have ever had. And it's not even close." For once in his life, Astarion was telling the complete and entire truth.

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

The saccharine mood from the morning cuddle hung over them both as they strapped into their armor, packed, and headed to the dining area to meet the others. Astarion felt he hid the giddiness better than she did by nodding stiffly to the table at large and heading to the corner to sharpen his daggers in solitude. Tav, on the other hand, greeted everyone with unbridled enthusiasm that had the entire table raising their eyebrows. Very subtle, Astarion mentally chastised her. But even he had trouble committing to the thought, warming at the idea that he might be the cause for her smile as she sat down and dug heartily into her breakfast. Mine.

It didn't surprise him when Shadowheart fell back to walk in step with him on the way to the goblin camp once they set out. She seemed determined to dig up gossip on whatever was going on between he and Tav.

"How was your evening?" she asked innocently. Astarion shot her a knowing look, and she chuckled.

"Lady Shar would be ashamed at my lack of subterfuge," she remarked. "Although I'm not nearly as bad as you and Tav."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Astarion's tone aimed for dismissive, but even he couldn't hold back a smile when Shadowheart snorted in return.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, and Astarion found that he did not entirely dislike the cleric's company. He wondered if she considered him a sort of friend, the way Tav did.

"Can I ask you something?" he surprised himself by asking her quietly.

"Sure," she answered, sounding a little surprised as well.

"You surrendered your memories to serve Shar. Do you ever..." he wasn't sure how to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. "Are there times that you sort of.. clamp up? Like there's something you can't remember, but it... paralyzes you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he felt Shadowheart regard him. After a beat, she answered, "yes."

He looked to her now. Her fingers were brushing the black spot on the back of her hand that she claimed was an "old injury that acted up from time to time". She continued, "it sort of feels like my brain is resetting. Like I should be able to remember something, but it's blocked. It makes me feel..." she searched for the right word. "Afraid. Outside of myself."

"Hmm," Astarion hummed in reply. He found that he wanted to confide in her further. "It happened to me last night, when Tav and I... I became afraid, quite suddenly." He frowned at the memory. "I feel... ashamed."

"Astarion, if there is anyone who would never judge you, it's Tav," Shadowheart reminded him gently. "But I'm sorry that happened to you. And I'm sorry for whatever memory caused it." He felt her hand touch his wrist, and she gave him a little squeeze. In response, he lightly bumped his shoulder against hers.

"What a mess we all are," he sighed. They were approaching the edge of the goblin encampment now, and the pair dropped to a crouch in unison.

"Well, luckily there are plenty of goblin skulls to crush as therapy."

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

"What kind of a name is Priestess Gut, anyway?!" Astarion yanked Tav behind a pillar as a flurry of arrows launched their way.

"That's what we all call you behind your back." She was panting as she chugged a quick healing potion and wiggled her fingers, willing electricity to buzz between them. The grand hall of the old Selunite temple was a mess; the group had managed to schmooze their way in and take out two leaders, but a guard had caught Karlach cracking a scrying eye against the stone wall and alerted the whole camp to their trickery.

"No no, that's what I call you after you pig out on sweetrolls after supper," he shot back through gritted teeth as he yanked arrows out of a dead body nearby. She shot him a wicked grin as the sparks between her fingers began crackling even bigger.

"Hang on, I've just had a thought!" Astarion plucked up a carafe from the ground nearby and flung it around the pillar, covering the ground with water. "Alright, sweetness, light them up."

She happily obliged, sending a current of pure electricity through the line of goblins in a chain reaction. The pair whooped excitedly as they ran forward, trying to catch up with Wyll and Lae'zel ahead.

"Watch out!" Shadowheart's panicked scream hit them too late; an arrow whizzed past Astarion's face. Looking up, he saw they'd missed a guard in the rafters, which he took out with a rapid arrow from his own bow.

"Little shit," he cursed, "come on-" but Tav had dropped to the ground next to him, slipping through his fingers as he tried too late to catch her.

"No, gods damn it, NO!" the rogue arrow was poking out of her shoulder, just above her heart. Her eyes were blinking rapidly as blood soaked her jerkin. Panic seized his heart as he tried to drag her out of the center of the room; the fight between Karlach, Gale and the last leader, Minthara, was spilling dangerously close to where Tav had fallen. Shadowheart was on the other side of the room shooting off shield spells, and Wyll and Lae'zell were rushing forward to join the fray.

What the fuck do I do? Tav was losing consciousness, and he needed to get her out of the way.

Suddenly, he remembered the ring Gale had pressed into his hand a few days before and the conversation that had ensued:

"Gale, what in the hells am I going to do with a Misty Step Ring? I don't even use magic."

"You have fey magic in you, Astarion. You never know when it could come in handy. Just hang onto it."

Astarion threw his arms around Tav and tried with everything in him to channel the power of the ring.

"Come on, fucking faerie magic," he grunted. I have to save her. He let out a scream as a white hot feeling crashed through him - and then they were gone.

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

What if she's dead?

The question wouldn't stop ringing in Astarion's ears as he paced outside the door to the room in the temple they had deemed as the hospital ward. He didn't quite know how to feel about the question. Only days ago he swore he wouldn't have cared if Tav had fallen off a cliff, but now... everything had changed. When was the last time he'd lost someone? Someone that mattered?

"It was quick thinking, mate," Wyll said for what must have been the third time. The warlock was cleaning a scrape on his leg on a bench along the wall. "You did everything you could."

Astarion picked up a piece of rubble from the ground and threw it as hard as he could down the hall. He hadn't done enough. She could be dead.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that he hadn't once been distracted by her blood as he tried to stopper the wound. It almost unnerved him that the frenzy of his thirst had been overpowered by his panic over losing her. He wanted to smack his skull against the wall. His confusion over his suddenly strong feelings for her flavored his fear of losing her with extra nausea.

Finally, Shadowheart appeared in the doorway, wiping her bloody hands on a rag. "She's alive," she assured him quickly, assessing the pure panic in his eyes. "She's lost a lot of blood and will need some time to recover, but she'll pull through."

Astarion thought his knees might give out. "Is she awake? Is she in pain?" he tried to peer over the cleric's head to get a look into the ward. "Will it be alright through the night?"

"I promise, Astarion, I've done everything I can." Shadowheart looked exhausted - depleted, even. He wanted to hound her further, but he knew she was telling the truth. He hadn't forgotten their tender conversation from earlier in the day, and he was grateful to her for that and for tending to Tav.

"Can I see her?" he asked in a small voice. Shadowheart nodded, stepping out into the hallway and holding the door open for him. Astarion understood - this was the changing of the guard for the rest of the night.

He moved into the dimly lit room to take up his post and nearly shuddered at the sight. Tav was laid stiffly out on a table in a way that reminded Astarion of a body at the morgue, covered by a loose piece of cloth. Her tangled hair was pushed back over her head, and her forehead and upper lip were glistening with sweat. He hesitated for a moment before stepping back in the hall, asking Wyll to keep an eye on her for a few moments.

He returned to the tableside with a bucket of warm water, his bergamot soap, a sponge, a comb, and a clean set of loose clothing. He spent the next hour gingerly scrubbing the crusted blood and dirt off of her pretty skin and gently working through the tangles in her hair. He sat at the head of the table and worked the strands into an intricate braid pattern that he hadn't realized he even knew how to do. Hair-braiding was an intimate act amongst elves; he briefly wondered whose hair he might have braided before to learn this design. He was glad that he didn't remember; he wanted it to be only hers.

When he had finished cleaning her, he sat and watched her for so long that he lost track of time. It felt as though he was trancing - thoughts seemed to come and go before he could catch them. They were tiny things, inconsequential. A vicious master, a putrid dungeon full of rats, a squirming parasite digging through his skull. An infernal tattoo. An army of cultists marching on the city. It didn't matter now, he knew. As he looked at her, he at last finally, calmly accepted the seismic shift in the cosmos. The center of his universe now lay on the table in front of him, dancing between life and death, the axis of the planet spinning unknowingly around the core of her being. He was but a tiny moon in her atmosphere, helpless to her gravitational pull. Perhaps it was time to stop resisting. With a sigh, he settled into orbit.

A dim light had begun to creep through the dusty windows when she finally stirred. A groan of pain, followed by a thick swallow. Astarion was at her side in an instant with a water skein, tipping it to her cracked lips. She swallowed and coughed lightly, blinking up at him.

"It smells like shit in here."

He chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind her ears. "My apologies, madam. I'm not sure I can wash away, what, months worth of goblin piss in one night? But I can certainly try if it should please you."

She huffed out a laugh that made her wince, tenderly bringing a hand to touch the wound area. "How bad is it?"

"Shadowheart says you'll live," he smiled at her crookedly, "though I had my doubts. You looked quite poorly."

"You must be disappointed she was right," she smirked up at him, although he thought he caught an unguarded flash of uncertainty. If she only knew what he now understood, she would never doubt his devotion to her. But how could he even begin to explain it?

"Not in the least," he all but whispered. Leaning down, he ghosted a kiss against her lips first, and then to her forehead. "Don't scare me like that again, please."

"Then don't forget to check the rafters next time." Tired as she was, her eyes were full of adoration as her hand clasped around his.

[chizups]

John Seed x Salome Ann Clock fanfiction that kicks off the Family Tree AU

- You think you're doing everything right, but you're making a mistake... - You're still alive?! What luck! - Wha... - John Seed, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say... - I know my rights! - Very convenient. - Are you going to judge me? - beaten badly, he still laughed condescendingly, but his laughter quickly turned into a cough when the Deputy tugged at the handcuffs that were clasped around John's wrists. - No, that's not in my line. You and your brothers will appear before a real judge at a real court hearing. - Oh spare me this nonsense and just kill me already... - Absolutely not. - Do you think there's any point in your legal theatre? I know all of this! I'm a lawyer! - So that's another reason to keep you alive, Seed: I want to be present at the court and hear how you'll get out of the mess your family has made here.

***

Scattered throughout the county, those were not even cellars - real fortified shelters. Most of them were not deep, but equipped for living, not for storing jars of jam only. Mostly abandoned, thanks to Seeds. One of these shelters turned out to be very handy...

There was no more suitable place to keep John at that moment. Seed had to be hidden from everyone. All the participants in this last fight against The Inquisitor, including his religiously charged followers and Salome's injured colleagues, thought she shot the bastard, and she was absolutely sure that if they knew that The Deputy kept him alive and safe, they would want to save John from Salome's grasp, or take his life with their own hands. And the sheriff's deputy would remain guilty in any case.

Covered in blood and bruises, both miraculously reached the underground shelter unnoticed. John was surprisingly obedient, no screaming, no calls for help. He only stumbled occasionally, walking caused him obvious discomfort. Which, of course, was not surprising after all the chasing and shootouts on the ground and in the sky. Somehow deputy Clock managed to push the younger Seed into the hatch, helped him down the ladder, and locked John in a smaller corner right next to the bathroom. Not like there were many options anyway, but this spot conveniently had metal mesh on a steel frame that could be locked from the outside with a key. Apparently, the former owner of the cellar also used it to keep prisoners of his own... Cultists perhaps. The "brave resistance fighters" were no strangers to torturing when they thought it needed to be done. Seed did not resist much, and Salome hoped that it was not because his strength was leaving him forever allowing death come closer. Whoever was kept here before, now John was sitting here. After closing the door behind his back with a metal clank deputy did not bring the keys even close to it.

***

When Deputy Clock was coming out into the day light, she told everyone who asked that John Seed was shot. Sometimes they asked some clarifying questions, and Salome had to lie: shot him, left him in the field, went away, doesn’t know what happened next. Fortunately, most people didn’t need more clearance that that, they believed their savior deputy from the first word. No wonder, since John had caused the residents of Holland Valley so much… troubles? Salome couldn't bring herself to call all the horrors and sorrows that ordinary people had experienced just troubles. Such a small word for this torture...

She felt awkward lying too. He was alive, after all. She told about that awkwardness to John herself, laughing in an attempt to hide her true feelings about Seed and all the lying.

John was freaking out the first couple of times Salome visited him, threw a few tantrums, but after that he became surprisingly calm and attentive to all of her confessions, as he preferred to call them. Ironically, Salome Ann Clock now lied to everyone except him.

***

- I brought you some food, Seed!

- How generous of you, - the prisoner muttered.

- I don't want you to shrivel up to death before your trial! - she spoke in a deliberately positive tone. A little mockingly, but John didn't buy it. His soul was troubled by completely different thoughts.

Deputy checked on him quite often. As was said, she didn't want him to croak from hunger, cold or some injury that John had already managed to inflict on himself without her supervision. Back then, in the moment, she didn't understand how it happened and didn't suspect the reasons, but her prisoner almost broke his arm from hitting the wall. Salome had to handcuff him through the bars, open the mesh door, treat his bloody hand, which John was extremely unhappy about of course, but he didn't kick too much either. The same thing happened when he cut himself. A monster that Inquisitor kept inside his body was tormenting him by a manic itch, but it had no one to sharpen its claws on except him. Fortunately, the cuts weren't deep at all.

Surely, somewhere deep inside, Seed felt gratitude for the attention, but he did not want to express it out loud. In the end, overcoming himself, he squeezed out, not without sarcasm, "thank you, what would I do without your tender care," and then was filled with hatred for himself and his feelings. He had long since begun to like the sheriff's deputy, and it infuriated him greatly. All this courtesy from Salome, good food, their conversations brought them both much more pleasure than they were willing to admit.

***

An agreement with Faith Seed was not achieved. Not because she was too stubborn. On the contrary, at some point it even seemed to Salome that girl was panicking and ready to do anything, just to survive the encounter, just so The Deputy would stop fighting with her. After all, that deputy was winning. Despite the Bliss on Faith's side, which was supposed to become an obstacle for Salome.

- This gas was everywhere... I didn't understand what was reality and what was an illusion. I wouldn't have been sure of her death if it wasn't for the explosion in the bunker... Killing her was not the plan at all.

- You couldn't have done otherwise, - John stated from behind the bars kindly and calmly, - she will be mourned, but her death is also part of God's plan.

- The one Joseph is talking about? - Salome asked with a bitter smile.

- The one Joseph is talking about. And the Lord himself told Joseph, - the prisoner clarified once again, pointing his index finger at the ceiling.

Deputy, however, also noticed a sadden, irritated note in his voice. It seemed that only Joseph himself was one hundred and twenty percent sure of Joseph's grand destiny.

Salome responded to this with only a lowered head, a resigned nod. It's been a long time since she stopped rolling her eyes, listening to this... nonsense? It sounded less and less crazy with each passing day.

***

So much blood on her hands already. She washed them diligently, yet still felt the layer of death up to the elbows. This feeling had become familiar in the north of the county. Was scared to return to the wolves' den.

"But you will return, you have no choice"

John Seed said comfortingly, and Salome looked at him with all the concern in her eyes, with all the anxiety that had been accumulating in her since the moment she first fell into Jacob's hands. And her gaze met John's blue eyes, so kind, it would seem, but so cold, sobering. Deputy felt uneasy. He was right. She had to return to the wolves' den.

It was not of heroine's own free will that she returned. It was not of her own free will that she killed Eli Palmer. Both weren't close, not friends at all, but Salome cared. Guilt filled her up to eyes. However, for some reason she wanted to blame herself, or Eli, his comrades for his death, but not Jacob Seed. As if it wasn't he who literally brainwashed deputy Clock to commit this very murder, but she who weren't diligent enough in her resistance. And Salome wasn't able to resist later either.

***

Hallucinations, waves of Hunters, packs of Judges, traps, snipers, gunfire and explosions, and still Jacob Seed escaped. Just now he was in front of the deputy, wounded, bleeding, repeating the same things as the rest of this family: Joseph is right, Joseph knows, Joseph is making a sacrifice… And then he was gone. Maybe he was just another hallucination, but later Salome heard cultists mourning one of their leaders. Brother Jacob, it seemed, was dead after all. But if not…

***

"Leave me my flock, take your friends and go."

All comrades in arms, all the friends deputy "Sunny" had made in Hope County, the ones she had helped, and who had helped her, were standing there with guns in their hands. Surrounded by the Bliss. And they were aiming at Salome. At her and her colleagues. Even Wheaty, who just last night had been shouting about him being ready to suppress the remnants of the cult, to drive them off this land, to destroy the Eden's Gate once and for all... Joseph had made him his as if with a snap of his fingers. Him. And Tammy and Jess, and Father Jerome, and all the others... As if there had been no struggle, no resistance, no opposition to the cult. As if The Father could have controlled the situation all this time, turned it in the direction he wanted. Maybe he had. In any case, Salome's thirst for struggle began to dry up when she realized the amount of control that Joseph Seed had in his hands.

"Okay... We're leaving."

Joseph let her go along with her colleagues. They rose from their knees, not without some bickering, but got into the car. Salome did too. SUV started moving. Joseph and his "flock" treated by Bliss remained standing at the open doors of the church, watching sheriff's vehicle closely, while deputy Clock was afraid to even glance at the rearview mirror. She thought the horror was still there. She thought that at least for her it was all over, finally. Until the sheriff turned on the radio...

"Only you-u-u-u..."

Time to cull the herd...

***

That red mist fell from Salome's eyes as she was walking along the road. It was a wonder she hadn't jumped off a cliff or a bridge, under a truck maybe, while still hearing that hellish song in her head, hearing the voice of the deceased Jacob. Salome had no idea if there even were any passing cars on her way. She hoped not. For obvious reasons... The red haze went away, deputy saw blood on her hands, on her shirt. The gun, tightly clenched in tense fingers, was also covered in red fingerprints. Former heroine, now finally feeling like a worthless bastard of a killer, hurried away from the road, went down to the river and looked at the reflection in the water. Blood on her face, on her neck, hair on the ends seemed to be soaked in a dark red liquid as well. A lump formed in deputy's throat, panic began to rise along with the realization. Palms suddenly scooped up cold river water, splashed in face, shirt, rubbed her hair, wiped away traces... whose, she didn't want to think at all, but given the last memories available, everything seemed completely obvious: Salome Ann Clock killed sheriff Whitehorse, killed Stacey Pratt and killed Joey Hudson - the people for whose sake she was busting her ass all this time. Probably shot them, but judging by the amount of blood, fires came from a shotgun, no less. They didn't expect it, most likely didn't even have time to understand that they had to defend themselves... Just as Seed said, Salome was now all alone. A tool that had served its purpose. Where was she supposed to go? No friends, no colleagues... Drag herself back to Joseph Seed in disgrace? Definitely not. Looking for a car and trying to escape from this place of madness also seemed impossible. And, to be completely frank, wrong. And scary. Her legs, however, brought Salome to a place now known only to Salome. And another person...

***

She was always coming into the shelter with a "hello", trying to maintain a positive attitude. At least visually. God forbid John Seed would think that his family outside was doing well. Even if later Salome told him about her struggles and the heaviness of burden that was placed upon her. All in all, she usually hoped that her apparent cheerfulness irritated John Seed at least a little. Today, Salome didn't care anymore.

The hatch opened with a creak, closed the same way. The soles of deputy's boots clattered heavily and hopelessly on the metal steps. She entered a long narrow room, where John could see her silhouette almost immediately, sitting behind the bars at the other end of this corridor. He didn't say a word. Salome took the keys from the table with which she locked John's makeshift cage - kept them in plain sight as a playful mockery - slowly, almost dragging her feet, approached, inserted them into the keyhole and turned. Youngest Seed rose from the floor, slightly confused, but, as was always the case with him, ready to listen to Clock in the hope that she would tell him something useful.

"I give up. Joseph won. You won. Go wherever you want..."

John froze for a few moments, and then jerked towards the exit, pushing Salome with his shoulder, to which, however, she did not consider it necessary to react even. Deputy simply remained standing, soaked in water, sweat and blood of people she wanted to save, and, God knows who else. Seed took a few long strides towards the exit, but as soon as he crossed the room, he stopped in the doorway, turned around and spoke.

- What happened to you?

Salome turned to him, but her eyes did not meet his. Usually higher, more optimistic female voice was now dry, tired, her words dripping with grief, for she felt nothing more clearly than this exact feeling.

- I am alone. I have no more strength to fight. And I see no point in it. You can go.

She suddenly felt goosebumps run across her skin - from the cold, Salome was shivering.

- You don't need to fight. You didn't have to from the very beginning. But now that you have learned your lesson, what are you going to do? Lie here and die?

She barely shrugged in response to his questions. Eyes scanned the room for something useful, although Salome herself did not yet understand what she was looking for. John returned to his warden with the same brisk steps, squeezed her shoulders, forcing to turn and look at him.

- Joseph saw you. Before he met you! He knew it would be like this! After everything that happened, don't you realize that you are destined to enter the Gates of Eden? To survive the Collapse and enter a new world!

Salome shook his hands off, suddenly bursting into rage.

- I don't believe in this crap! I don't believe in it, John! It's all bullshit! - her voice broke into a scream, - Yes, you got yourself a cult, you were preparing for the end of the world, but it will not happen! Your brother is sick, you are sick, you followed his lead, because with such a narrative you can do anything, any means are justified. But the Collapse is complete sh…

As if on command, the sound of an explosion was heard. Distant, but clear and loud enough to interrupt Salome's fiery hysteria. Seconds later, the earth began to shake, destruction outside quite obviously: trees were cracking, something was falling to the ground, onto a house standing nearby to a hatch under which Salome and John were dumbfounded with shock and horror. The wind rose, dragging something very heavy along the ground. As if the Lord himself heard Salome and decided to show in this way that it was time to shut the fuck up and believe. Now deputy jerked towards the exit, her eyes wide in panic, in disbelief, mouth babbling “no, no, no, it can’t be.” Her shaking hands were thrown forward in the desire to reach the door frame as quickly as possible, then to the ladder, to climb up, to lift the hatch cover, to see everything with her own eyes and make sure that maybe she just imagined it, that it wasn’t real. Salome didn’t even reach the doorway – was stopped by John. He grabbed her hand, but Clock pulled it away, so he abruptly jumped around her figure and, wrapping both of his hands around, lifted terrified woman off the floor, not letting her take even a couple of steps.

- Let me go!

- Stop kicking! The Collapse happened, you don't have to go to your death to believe it!

- It can't be, it can't be! - her attempts to break free quickly came to naught, she slid down onto John's chest, still longingly looking at the stairs over his shoulder, leading up, outside, where all the horror of the Collapse was happening now. They didn't know it yet, but everything around was burning. And that was it. The sky was invisible because of the red flashes of fire and the black trail of smoke. It didn't let anyone see, didn't let anyone breathe who hadn't managed to run and hide.

- It happened. We knew it would happen, we prepared for it. This is God's punishment, and it didn't touch you.

John was still holding Salome with both hands. He wasn't holding her back like he had a moment ago, but his embrace was still strong. With one hand he pressed Sunny's head to his shoulder. Their voices were quieter now. She was barely sobbing, more like breathing raggedly, her throat felt like it was being squeezed. John was saying in a quiet, almost lulling voice that Salome was saved, they will enter a new world, she will survive, survive everything. They would survive together.

- Why... It's the end.

- I want you to stay. Stay with me. There will be a new beginning, you'll see. Stay.

It sounded like he was trying to persuade her, not console, but Salome believed him. She had no strength left for anything else. Now for sure. Salome Ann Clock surrendered to circumstances. Surrendered to John Seed.

[dlatl98]

Elrond, who went to Valinor, became a local celebrity as soon as he arrived there.

Elrond's loved ones were merciless to him. His parents left them for the greater good. He knew he had to give in, because it was ultimately for them and for the world. But in the end, the saddest thing was the fact that I couldn't get to know them, to the point where their loss was nothing more than emptiness rather than grief. His brother had left him for the human path. Do as you wish. You die, not me. Well, this brother had never been helpful to him in life. Maybe growing old as a man would have helped the fool grow (and it didn't). Maglor and Maedhros would not allow him to be called father (so they called him by his name). They chose their sense of Lack of qualifications that they could not be his father because they had taken away his parents, rather than Elrond's desire to call them "father," a title that would warm his heart and mouth just by calling them father. There is also advice that being a Feanorian will not help you in life. He really appreciated that. For destroying his fence and kicking him out of it again under the pretext of doing it for him. If you break one, you have to give me another! He couldn't decide whether he hated Maedhros more for killing himself, which was like a grand announcement that he was no comfort to him, or whether he hated Maglor more for not coming to him or coming to his aid while he was alive. His damned cousins, his king and the Lord of Eregion, died at will. Of course, Elrond understood that they had no other choice as monarchs. His wife… was sorry first. And he was sorry that he couldn't leave with her. He had rejected the king, but he was like his cousins ​​after all. Still, there was a merit to giving up the king. A queen can't leave easily. It was good that he didn't become king, but he often wondered about the path not taken. And his daughter…

No words are possible. No parent should have to go through this.

"I'm sorry. We didn't endure it. We were young at that time, and the children we thought were dead were young. It's not possible to compare, but I can't compare it to you, who I lost after raising everyone and becoming more attached to them. Losing the child I raised. There's nothing sadder than that. I'm truly sorry, but I'll never be able to comfort you. but.....we will be here."

"I'm sorry. I really couldn't go to you. I was too ashamed. I didn't reject you. I didn't think you wouldn't help me. I just couldn't go any further. And I felt betrayed because I thought Maedhros had abandoned me… but at the same time, I understood his choice. I understood how tired he was, how he had no more strength. I knew he couldn't continue, not because he chose something else over me… so I can't compare him to you. Of course, I'm not criticizing his choice. But I still feel resentful towards you. I'm sorry. I won't be of any help. But… I'll be here, so come see me whenever you want."

“Come out now! Even if you can ignore me, don’t ignore him Come out now! Don’t make him feel like you chose someone over him this time either!”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll definitely help. After all, it was thanks to you that that bastard got out.”

"……I'm sorry. But please understand this. I didn't abandon you. It was just……I really couldn't continue. I'm really sorry. I'll be here. I won't be of any help to you, but still…"

"Hey, let's have a drink!"

"I don't know if it'll help. But…..I made it like Celebrian told me. I showed Galadriel the mirror too. Does it look the same to you? No, don't worry about what I think. If you don't need it, throw it away. It's okay. If you like it…..I have plenty of time. I can make it as much as I want."

"How did you endure this?" "What?" "That your loved ones don't follow you. That you might never see them again. That you won't see them again."

"I didn't endure it. When they came, I was helpless and fell. Instead, I'd like to ask. Does it help that you have many friends that you can meet here?" "……I'm sorry to them, but that's that, and this is this." "Right?"

"Still……"

Elrond took his wife's hand and kissed it. They sat on the threshold again, looking out into the dusk. "I am glad you are here."

[luneengene2]

Even though I'm not Briize, I really sympathize with what Seunghan and Briize are going through:(

I really want to hug Briize who stood up for OT7. You guys are a bunch of strong people who have to face the harshness of unfair treatment from companies and BASTARD fans:')...

Seunghan, he was hated, cursed, insulted, and told to commit suicide by a group of people on social media who should have SUPPORTED him. Just because he dated during his pre-debut days, those damn people treated him like a criminal. Worse still, THOUSANDS OF FUNERAL WREATHS were sent to the front of the building where he worked. He is not dead, he is alive and well���ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

My question is, is dating and smoking a crime?! No, sometimes teenagers can do that. Bruh, idols are human too, they have the right to seek happiness. They are NOT YOURS. Don't act like the idol is yours, you are JUST A FAN. Please KNOW YOUR LIMITS.

Seunghan has only dated and smoked, he has never even been violent towards a girl. I see it as very normal and common for a teenager, but why did that group of people attack him as if he was a drug dealer.

If I said 'Your fave often has sex with his girlfriend' to a bunch of idiots, I don't know what would happen to me💀. Bruh, I'm even sure my ult has had sex many times, it's up to them anyway, their PRIVACY.

For example, my bias is Jo from &Team. I sometimes think, he is shy but dangerous and probably no stranger to 'bed games'. I don't mind if he often kisses, smokes, drinks, goes to clubs, or even has sex. Because why? He's a normal human being. As a fan, I have no right to control his life. I just need to SUPPORT him.

To Briize who stood up for OT7, I'm sure you'll be strong in the face of this stupidity. Please don't abandon Seunghan and continue to support him. Keep telling him that he is a great and worthy human being, he deserves to be loved. I can't do anything, I can only send virtual hugs.

And as for Seunghan, I hope that boy stays strong. Oh my gosh, I can't imagine how devastated he must be. He was considered so low that idiots sent him hundreds of death wreaths just for coming back from hiatus, dating and smoking. I also thought, if for example he was still dating the same girl now, I also thought about the girl's feelings.

Hope everything gets better for Seunghan and Briize. I'm sure you'll get through the storm, please stay strong.

[promiscuouspomegranate]

hihi!! sorry if you already have requests or if you’re busy!

could you write a story about a poor fem reader who meets a rich noble? probably not something modern but not too ancient. idc if it’s the stereotypical “omg an injured sexy prince on the side of the road!! let me bring him back to my cottage and feed him stone soup because i am so sickly and poor!!”

thank you !! 🩵🩵🩵

Aching Autumn

Fem reader • Prince Thatcher

TWs: Abduction, Mentions of starvation, Poor living conditions, Reader gets death threats, Thatcher is rude, Violence, + Reader gets her fingers dirty.

(This is my first request I’m literally foaming at the mouth cackling crying sobbing and so HAPPY!! THANK TAHK YOU!! I worked on this a bit and I think it turned out well. If you have ivory skin or locks of gold.. my bad 💔 Feel free to let me know if you wanted anything else. Sorry if it isn’t that good… this is my first time writing in a while 😭)

Although the seasons changed, it seemed the conditions I lived in were stagnant, from the cruel, cold winters that frosted my lips and gnawed at my fingers to sweet spring days that warmed my heart and soothed my soul. It seemed I was destined to live a life of poverty and hunger. After all, what could the bastard daughter of a drunkard wanton accomplish other than lamenting on the town streets of what could have been?

On this particular autumn evening, there was an ache in my heart; no words of comfort or looks of pity could soothe, for I saw the man who was supposed to be my father holding a child with golden hair and ivory skin–something I never had. I tried to elevate myself above the town gossip, but when I heard his name, I knew I had to see it with my own eyes. I needed to see my replacement. He smiled at the child, and I could feel bitter tears streaming down my ragged face.

“My father… You are supposed to be mine. Not that stupid angelic creature who you hold so dearly,” I bit my thumb and stared into the window, “You horrible man! You are my father!”

My father glanced out the window, and I felt my heart shatter when his face contorted into pure disgust. I emptily stared at him and pressed my hand against the glass. That child of his and some refined lady had stolen my leisurely life. I gently knocked on the glass and begged to be let inside. The baby began to sob, and the curtains were drawn. The front door opened, and I was violently dragged into the streets by my father.

“I told her to keep you away from me,” He furiously whispered and tightly grabbed my arm, “You are not welcome near my home. You are no child of mine.”

“But I am! I came from you and will always be a part of you, please,” I cried and pleaded with him, “If I were given an opportunity to clean myself up and become a member of society, I swear I could–”

Before I could finish my sentence, I was thrown into the road and kicked in the stomach.

“You will have to seek your opportunities elsewhere,” My father stepped back and glared, “Perhaps you could sell yourself the way your mother does. You’ll gather enough money to raise a regret of your own.”

He abandoned me, the same way he did when I was nine, slowly and cruelly. Savoring every moment of my cries for him to stay with me and ignoring my presence like I was the wind blowing on his back.

“Horrible man,” I muttered to myself when he was gone once more, “I hope the child dies in his arms and he can feel half the misery that I know.”

I brushed the excess dirt off my dress and readjusted my crimson scarf. I ambled through the town and arrived at the front of my dilapidated building. I decided I had encountered sorrow once too many today and went to the woods bordering my home.

“What I would give, if I had anything of value, to soar in the sky with the doves,” I squinted as they fluttered by, “How lovely.”

The mourning doves called out to each other and perched on pine branches. They hid themselves from me, and I strolled deeper into the woods. I ignored posted signs and warnings to the common people to stay out of the Queen’s forest. I hardly believed it was her land; she had never stepped in the forest. What right did she have to claim what she couldn’t see?

“I suppose it must be nice to claim things as you please,” I felt myself slip into my fantasy of grandeur and smiled, “I would claim the whole world if I were Queen.”

I pretended that the trees curtseyed and bowed as I strolled by. I straightened my posture and pretended the birds were my people. I politely waved and smiled like a queen would–delightfully and regally.

“Oh, I suppose these flowers are for me? Why, thank you, little girl,” I went down and picked what I assumed were wildflowers from the forest floor, “They will look lovely in my crystal vase by the stained glass window. The sunshine yellows would make a lovely spring gown.”

I hummed to myself and stooped down to pick more flowers. I carefully selected each one, though each flower seemed perfectly grown. I selected each by how strong the fragrance was; the more robust the scent, the more I could sell them for in the town.

“I wonder what kind of flower these are? I haven’t seen anything as beautiful growing in the forest before,” I murmured and put one in my hair, “I’ll gather one to replant in front of home.”

I had only begun to uproot the flower when I heard the galloping of stallions and the blasting sound of brass horns. I paid no attention; usually, the royalty stuck to a particular path to hunt the Queen’s favorite animals–ruby red cardinals, acorn brown deer freckled with pearly dots, and soot black bears. I heard the bloodhounds howling as the galloping began to fade into the ambiance of the forest.

I finished uprooting the flower and placed it with the others. I felt something lick my hand and gasped. I saw a bloodhound lazily resting beside me, panting and stupidly staring at me. It licked my hand again, and I pulled my hand away from the dog.

“Stay back,” I demanded but looked nervous, “I’ll.. well, I don’t exactly know what I would do to you.”

I cautiously reached my hand out and placed it on the dog’s head. I began to stroke behind its ears gently and smiled.

“I suppose you’re not that scary,” I mumbled and looked for a tag, “It appears the Queen hasn’t claimed you. Perhaps I will make you my own.”

I took my scarf off and wrapped it around the dog’s neck. I felt joy when it stared at me and rested its head on my lap.

“Such a beautiful thing, aren’t you? You can be my dog since the hunters are so careless,” I squeezed it and sighed, “Yet, I fear you don’t understand a thing I am saying. You probably will run from me the second you see your owner.”

The dog began to howl, and I felt alarmed as the galloping returned. I tried my best to soothe the dog into silence, but it persisted upon howling. I turned around and saw stallions charging toward me. I scooped the dog up, grabbed a flower or two, and sprinted through the woods. I heard men shouting after me, demanding I stop in the name of the Queen. I felt terrified and ran to the frantic beat of my heart.

Yet, no matter how fast I was to run, the horses would always defeat me. I was cornered by nobility and froze in fear. The other bloodhounds were growling at me, and I set mine on the forest floor.

“What an odd combination of bird and tiger. The cowardice of a bird to take flight and the boldness of a tiger to try and outrun horses and your fate,” A man wearing a green cloak frowned upon me–he seemed repulsed by my sight, “Speak, peasant. Make your last words something interesting.”

Promptly, he aimed his rifle at me, and I began to sob in fear.

“Brother, put your rifle down. The woman is clearly lost; why else would she be in these woods? Pity the poor thing and don’t frighten her,” A man wearing a brown cloak intervened–his eyes seemed gentle and welcoming.

“Einarr, could you spare your false sympathies? Not only has she racked up enough crime to be a prisoner in hell as well as Earth, but she also trampled through mother’s flower garden,” He scoffed and put his rifle aside, “It’s either I put her out of her misery now, or mother decides to stroll through the forest and sees her garden missing flowers then makes the whole country suffer her wrath.”

“Thatcher, you seem to forget about our mother’s kind nature. How, if a flower or two went missing, she would smile and think of the beautiful creature that wandered into her garden and was able to appreciate beauty,” Einarr dismounted his horse and clutched its reigns.

“Beautiful creature? I’ve seen more beauty in war than I have her ragged face,” Thatcher dismounted his horse and approached Einarr, “I am assuming this is your attempt at humoring me, so I spare her.”

The two seem more occupied with arguing than dealing with me. I wiped my tears away and fell to the floor. I could feel their eyes burning into my skin as I weakly opened my mouth.

“Forgive my insolence, Your Majesties. I never meant to cause such trouble and ruin your hunt. It is true I wandered into the forest and got lost along the way,” I prayed nothing would ruin my lie, “It tattered my dress and face; I find myself quite weary. I never will step foot in the woods again if it means you so graciously spare my life.”

I heard chuckling from one of the princes and poked my head up. I saw Thatcher terribly trying to mask his amusement as Einarr glared at him.

“Ah! For an ill-bred lady of low rank, she manages the audacity to ask favors from us? Say, do you think you’re more nobility than we are to make such demands? I will fetch your golden crown and scepter, and Einarr will–”

“That is enough, brother. Clearly, she is more worthy of a crown than you are. Such gentleness and kindness despite the cruelty of her circumstance,” Einarr approached me and kneeled to my level, “What is your name? I must know, or I fear I will go mad.”

“Y / N,” I sputtered out and felt breathless, “I am no lady, your majesty. I am only a bastard daughter who managed to lose herself to the perplexities of the woods.

“Einarr, you should be more careful around the animal. She might be rabid and contaminate you with the unforgiving disease of poverty,” Thatcher followed behind Einarr and shoved him aside, “Besides, shouldn’t the heir of the kingdom be at a diplomatic meeting?”

“I suppose you are right about something, Thatcher,” Einarr mounted his horse again and stared at me, “Farewell, Lady Y / N.”

Einarr rode away, and the dogs followed behind him, except for the one I called my own. It was lying beside me, and Thatcher seemed unamused.

“Eris, do not lay with her. Come, girl,” He demanded and crossed his arms, “I said come!”

Eris seemed content lying beside me, to Thatcher’s dismay. He noticed the scarf wrapped around her neck and glared at me.

“You... You were going to steal my dog, weren’t you? You wretched woman,” He clenched his fists and pulled me up, “How dare you steal so much from your providers?”

“I apologize, Your Majesty! I thought the dog was unclaimed and–”

“Silence! Einarr may be foolish enough to entertain your words, but I will have none of it,” He tightly gripped my arm and frowned at me, “Not even death will be enough to punish your crimes. You deserve to be tortured among the criminals of your dastardly rank.”

I felt my lip quiver as his auburn eyes searched into the darkest corners of my heart.

“Yet, even the most painful torture is not fit for you. No, I will choose your suffering myself,” He led me to his horse and forced me to mount it, “I will decide your fate, Y / N.”

He hopped up, wrapped his arms around me, and tightly gripped the reigns. I felt my heart pound as he rode away from the forest.

“Are.. are you going to kill me? Please, just put me out of my misery now,” I begged and felt nauseated.

“I am going to give you a fate worse than death,” He whispered in my ear, “Your fate is intertwined with mine now. Enjoy the scenery of the forest, for I fear this is the last time you’ll see it up close.”

[heavy-swing]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #1 - Steer

Content Warnings: None Spoiler Warnings: Possible Bozja backstory spoilers that are revealed in the Save the Queen questline (about events that happen pre-ARR), no MSQ spoilers Summary: On one side of Etheirys, what's described as a "Garlean weapons malfunction" levels a city in an instant. On the other side of Etheirys, a young Aelita Tirasch finds her world much emptier than before. Check it out on Ao3, or read below:

“Aelita, my little star, could you come inside for a moment?” Lunya called across the field. “Your father and I have something we need to talk with you about.”

Aelita looked up from the row she’d been digging and pushed her damp, messy hair out of her face. “Sure, ma.” She started walking back towards their modestly sized farmhouse, and then paused, looking down at her clothes, which were covered in dirt. “Do you want me to wash up first, or…?”

“I think it can wait.” Lunya smiled for a brief moment before turning back inside, and Aelita wasn’t far behind, catching the door with a hand before it closed. 

“So, what’s the big news?” Aelita pulled a chair away from the table where her parents sat and flipped it around, sitting with her arms folded across the top of the backrest. “It’s gotta be something important if it can pull me away from plowing.”

Her parents gave each other a long look, as if each of them were begging the other to break the growing silence. Eventually, Jaromir spoke first.

“Aelita, I… You know how we arrived here, don’t you?”

“By ship, from Bozja. You’ve both told me about it many times.” A look of confusion grew across Aelita’s face. “What’s this about, papa?”

Lunya interjected. “We’d been in contact with some of the people we used to know, before we left, and we got some… news today.” Her pleasant smile began to crumble into something more melancholy. “Something went wrong with a Garlean weapon that had been built in the city, and…”

Jaromir picked up where his wife trailed off. “It’s gone. All of it. Leveled to the ground.” Aelita could’ve sworn she heard a ‘Garlean bastards’ under his breath.

“It’s likely Queen Tira didn’t make it either, if the reports we got are to be believed,” Lunya elaborated. Aelita looked back and forth between her two parents, mind racing ahead to try and figure out the conclusion of this conversation before they could speak it aloud.

“Your mother and I have been talking, and… we’d like to go back. Both of us. Whether to offer aid, to look for survivors, to try and mount a resistance, I don’t know… and I suppose it matters little. I’ve just had this feeling ever since we left that’s gnawed at me. Like I abandoned my post.” 

To have me, Aelita thinks, completing the unspoken part of his sentence in her head.

“Queen Tira asked us to leave, to make sure you had a life to look forward to, Aelita. I hope we’ve done that so far. You’ve grown up so fast, and you’re plenty strong enough to take care of yourself now.”

Aelita jumped up from her chair when she finally realized where this was all leading.

“So, you’re leaving me behind? I could come with you! I’m strong enough to fight, you said it yourself!” Tears started to flow down her cheeks, dampening her fur. “Do you even care about me? Just listen to yourselves!”

Jaromir got up from the table and closed the distance between them, taking Aelita’s hands in his own.

“My beautiful star, it is because we care about you that we want you to stay.”

Lunya rose to stand beside her husband. “You can build a life here, you can make this place a home. We still have some sense of duty across the sea, but you have no such obligation.”

“What if something happens to you? What do I do then?”

A moment of silence fell between them, no one wanting to acknowledge the worst should it come to pass.

“You’ll just have to carry on. For both of us,” Jaromir replied, trying to keep tears out of his own eyes. “We thought it best to leave as soon as possible, given the urgency of the situation there, so…”

“Tomorrow…?” Aelita asked between sobs.

“At sunrise,” Lunya confirmed, wrapping her daughter in a hug. Jaromir was quick to join in, offering as much comfort as he could muster. 

Aelita remained silent as they cooked and ate their last meal together, unsure of whether to be angry or despondent. The three of them settled down for the night, and though she was much too large to be sharing a bed with her parents, Aelita insisted on sleeping between them, just this one time.

---

The sun peeked in through the window, an especially unwelcome annoyance. Aelita groggily opened her eyes before she snapped awake at the realization that the bed was empty. She looked around their small house in a panic, and only relaxed when she found both of her parents busy packing their things. 

Her mother noticed and walked over to the bed. “Good morning, my little star. Worry not, we wouldn’t leave without waking you.”

Aelita wordlessly slid to the edge of the bed and padded over to her dresser. She grabbed a comfortable shirt and a pair of coveralls that she usually took fishing out of a drawer and quickly threw them on, as if worried that her parents would disappear without her noticing.

The snap of closures on leather travel bags pierced the silence, signaling an impending departure. 

“Lunya, I think I’m all ready here.”

“Then come over here for a moment.”

Aelita turned from her dresser to face both her parents, who were dressed for a long voyage. Jaromir spoke first.

“Aelita, I… I’m sorry that this is the way things had to be. It is my hope that maybe someday you can understand and maybe forgive me, but I can hardly resent you if you don’t.” His little speech was interrupted by sniffling; unwelcome tears already returning to Aelita’s eyes. “I want to promise that we’ll return to you someday, with glad news of what Bozja has become, but I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep.” She buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her as he’d done hundreds of times before. “I know you’ll be strong for us, my brilliant star.”

After a while, Jaromir released his hug, and it was Lunya’s turn to speak. “Oh, Aelita… Just know that no matter what happens, no matter where we are, we are always thinking of you. There are people here who you can lean on, if you need, and I hope you don’t forget that.” Lunya embraced her daughter, holding her even more tightly than Jaromir had. “Take care of yourself, my little star.”

Jaromir turned to start gathering bags from the floor, and Lunya took that as a signal to let Aelita go, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead before she backed away.

Bags were exchanged between them until the loads were about even, and then, before Aelita could even comprehend it, they had said their last goodbyes and walked through the front door. The bang it made when it hit the frame was the only thing that shook Aelita out of the haze of disbelief she’d found herself in.

Aelita lingered around the house for a while, unsure of what to do with herself. The space already felt so foreign, so empty without her parents there. She began subconsciously scanning the house as if looking for an escape route, and after eyes fell on her fishing rod and tackle, she realized she’d found one. She quickly shoved the tackle boxes in the pockets of her coveralls and grabbed her fishing rod before making a beeline for the front door.

Aelita walked down the coastline with her rod against her shoulder, taking focused strides towards the drydocks on the far side of Moraby Bay. She knew there was someone who lived near her parents’ house that kept a small fishing boat at one of the docks, it was just a matter of finding him. After a fruitless search at the shipyard, she spotted him at Candlekeep Quay, just tying off the little dinghy. 

“Raffe!” she yelled as she ran down the pier to meet him.

The hyuran man looked up in surprise, then smiled when he saw who it was. “Ay-lita! What brings you my way? Come to borrow the boat again?”

“It’s like you can read my mind,” Aelita replied with a laugh, fishing in her pockets for her coinpurse. “How much if I took it for the rest of the morning?”

It was his turn to laugh. “Just bring it back in one piece and we’re square.” He eyed the rod that occupied her shoulder. “And let me have a bite of anything half-decent you catch!”

“Sounds like a deal to me.” She climbed past him with a smile, setting her rod down in the bottom of the boat.

“Currents are a bit strange this morning, though, so beware o’ that,” he said, standing on the pier where she’d been only a moment ago. She nodded, picking up the oars.

“I’ll be careful, then.”

With that, she began to row out onto the open sea.

After she’d cleared the pier and waved goodbye to Raffe, she closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything else except her parents. She honed in on the motion of the oars, the sound of the water against the boat, the salty taste of the spray on her tongue. She heard calls of distant seabirds and chose to let those guide her. There were days for steering deliberately to a destination, but today wasn’t one of them. 

Aelita rowed and rowed, until her shoulders ached, until the feeling of the wood in her hands was all she could think about. 

It was then she opened her eyes.

And before her, as if by magic, appeared a large ship, one clearly built for crossing the great oceans of the star. And standing on the top deck she spotted two silhouettes that she knew could only be her parents. She knew the distance was too great to call out to them, but she stood up and waved her arms overhead, hoping they might notice. It took a couple minutes, but eventually she saw the figures wave back, and the tears from earlier that morning came flooding back, too.

Aelita stood a while longer and watched as the ship shrunk into the distance and disappeared over the horizon. The tears eventually slowed, and she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, trying her best to take deep breaths as she did. Once she felt calm, she bent down into the boat to retrieve her rod, turned 180 degrees from where the ship had been, attached a bit of bait to the line, and cast out into the sea. 

Aelita didn’t know if she could truly do it alone, like her parents had said, but she was resolved to catch some dinner, at the very least.

[hetalia-club]

Stark Family Tree

This is only immediate family.

House Stark

Not my favorite house at all. But they are the subject of the main character of my main story in my AU.

Why exactly does Ivan think Peter is his bastard? Well probably because Amelia told him that, why did she do that? She's not even totally sure. She also told him that he was never born and she drank moon tea to get rid of it. Which is what she was SUPPOSED to do with Arthur’s kid but she didn't really feel like it. She lives for creating unnecessary drama in her life and pinning powerful men against each other and watching them fight over her like rabid dogs a girl needs a hobby I guess. Not like she can play Nintendo or something.

Not to mention if he just thought about it logically for a second, which is asking a lot here. He would realize the time lines don't even add up. But 'not using their brains' is what got both he and Arthur into this situation. Poor Amelia just wants to go to Essos...just someone drop her off there already and forget about her she causes so many problems. Abandon her in the Dothraki Sea she would be fine. She would be married to a Khal in a week and have them all convinced she’s their moon goddess. She would be fine.

Lovino actually doesn't care about any of this and he's off at Casterly Rock dicking around. Which is his favorite thing to do.

Now I can explain this situation a little bit. Amelia was engaged to Arthur first. 2 years ago before the story starts he snuck her away one night and took her sailing, this is where Peter comes from. When he was born her father shipped him away to Pyke to 'hide her shame' assuming when they got married they could just brush it under the rug and legitimize him and then no one would care. Which she was very upset about as you can imagine. She did get to name him at least before they sent him away. She would ask Arthur about him a lot in letters. This left Arthur at an Impasse, he had zero desire to raise a kid. But allowed Peter to just exist in his house basically because he was his key to Amelia. She started showing a lot more interest in him romantically when he had her son at his house.

After Arthur broke a treaty her father called off their engagement and set her up with Lovino Tyrell. Amelia didn't want to marry him because she thinks he's boring and instead started messing around with her cousin Ivan because she really just wants to fly his dragon across the sea. So she sets up this whole murder plot to kill his sister and Ivan is dragging his feet about actually doing it afraid for you know 'getting caught' which is a very big deal and would end them both being killed. So, Irritated with that Amelia starts up sending love letters to Arthur. I mean she doesn't actually mean what she's writing in them and it's more just to get him worked up and make him mad. Again she just wants his boats. Om her side that’s all this is and all it’s ever been, while Arthur genuinely believes she is madly in love with him and revels in it. He does not necessarily ‘love’ her in the traditional sense and she is mostly a status piece for him. She very beautiful and a lot of the high lords want her as matches for their sons, so it’s like a “haha look who I have” type thing for him. He does think she’s beautiful and he does think he’s in love with her. But again it’s more of an obsession than actual love. So she sets up an elaborate kidnapping for herself by him. He takes her away to Pyke. He wants to get married basically the second she steps off the ship and she just rolls with it. But she kind of hates him a little bit because he's a prick and always drunk but he's a pirate so what can you expect. But he's also like crazy about her, like actually crazy. Like 'If you try and leave me I'll lock you in a cell, but don't worry it would be a nice cell.' crazy. So now she's stuck there. Too bad so sad, play stupid games win stupid prizes. But she is pretty happy to have her son back, so that’s one win I guess.

[shiplessoceans]

Ed is sitting on a log in front of a makeshift fire on the beach. The last sliver of sun has just dissolved into the horizon, and he's watching Stede and his crew play a fairly simple game Frenchie invented involving a rum bottle, a coconut and a balancing act where the crew loudly count how many seconds each of them in turn can keep everything suspended on their head. From what Ed can make out, Buttons is currently in the lead and Stede is up next.

Izzy wanders over from where he's been lurking at a distance and sits beside Ed, leaving a large gap. Long gone is the comfort and familiarity between them, replaced with a tense iciness a mile wide. A lot has happened and they haven't actually talked in a while now. Their last conversation had been...

Adversarial to say the least.

Ed glances as Izzy sits, but doesn't say anything, turning back to watch Stede and smiling fondly. Izzy eventually breaks the uncomfortable silence.

"Nice day for it."

Ed doesn't answer him. Let him sit if he wants, but be buggered if he'll engage the bastard in conversation.

Izzy continues talking, picking up a random hunk of wood and begins stripping the bark off it.

"You seem good... happy."

Ed abandons silence as a tactic and his response is quick and cutting.

"No thanks to you."

Izzy flinches but doesn't seem put off. He nods in the direction of the crew and their game.

"Bonnet looks happy too."

Stede hasn't beat Buttons record but he bows anyway as the crew cheers his effort. Olu is up next.

Ed's doesn't like hearing Stede's name come out of Izzy's mouth. He lets out a grunt of assent that might also be a growl. A warning.

Izzy watches him for a moment, continuing to tear strips off the timber he's whittling down to nothing.

"So it's him, then?"

Ed turns his head slowly and gives Izzy a cold stare. Daring him to start something. His next words are low and gruff and brook no uncertainty.

"Yeah. It's him."

Izzy returns the stare calmly. Ed's surprised to note that Izzy looks...tired.

Izzy nods once and drops the stick he's holding, and runs a hand through his hair before leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees to watch the contest, hands dangling between his legs.

Olu doesn't last as long as Stede but he contributed more to the Rum bottle's emptiness to begin with so he's having trouble balancing even without any objects on his head. Stede still leads the crew in cheering his valiant effort.

Ed is surprised when some time later, Izzy speaks again.

"I suppose as pirates go... you could do worse."

Ed can't help the surprise that crosses his face, raising his eyebrows. There's a concession he never thought he'd hear in his lifetime. Izzy is surrendering. He feels himself begin to relax.

"...don't get me wrong, he's still a knob."

Ed chuckles, quietly accepting the truce he's being offered as he responds dryly.

"Guess I have a type."

Izzy huffs out a laugh and then lowers his head, taking in a shuddering breath, steeling himself.

"For what it's worth... Edward, I'm sorry...for all of it."

Ed let's his eyes close. He feels very sad all of a sudden. Izzy has broken the dam and now he can't seem to stop apologising.

"...I can't explain myself I just... I thought I was helping you, but I know now I was just trying to...help myself I guess, fuck knows. But everything I did just made things worse and you were so...miserable for so long and I just...I didn't want to hear it and..."

Ed lifts a hand.

"Iz, mate stop. It's alright. I get it."

Izzy turns to look hard at him with eyes that seem desperate and a tiny bit afraid.

"Do you?"

Ed hears the weight in the words and nods slowly, gesturing over to where Stede is currently mediating a dispute over whether the coconut can be switched for a rounder one mid-game and if doing so would trigger a do-over.

"We were gonna run off together. Him and me. I made an escape plan, Stede was sposed to meet me and he didn't show up. I'd told him...how I felt."

Ed sniffs and shakes his head to clear it before continuing. Izzy is sitting statue still, listening intently.

"You've seen all the bad shit I've been doing lately. Hell you've copped some of the worst of it firsthand. And none of its Stede's fault, but yeah it still fucked me up. So trust me, I know how it feels."

Izzy's brow furrows.

"How what feels?"

Ed blinks.

"Lovin' someone who doesn't want you."

Ed no longer needs to entertain his previously held fantasy of punching the daylights out of Izzy Hands. The look on his face couldn't possibly be anymore apt to that experience than it is now.

Izzy looks horrified and then pained, quickly looking away to hide his face.

Ed turns back to watch the crew, letting the man collect himself. The crew seem to have given up on the game and are now taking impromptu (and slightly inebriated) knife throwing lessons from Jim. Izzy clears his throat and sighs.

"Guess I have a type."

Ed laughs out loud at that, Izzy joins him and they both chuckle, wheezing laughter helping deflate the remaining tension like the last gasp of air from a balloon.

Ed sighs and they both sit in a comfortable silence, the crackle of the fire, dull rumble of the waves and distant chatter of the crew providing the ambience as the stars begin to appear in the sky.

Stede pauses what he's doing to smile and wave at Ed, who waves back with a matching fond smile.

It really is a bloody great evening, all told.