#i really hope its a 3 parter

[skunkox]

Damien's party getting stormed on, so they're stuck inside. Epic Uno game commences.

There's stacking

Illegal team ups

Betrayal

Bribery

Possibly stripping for the biggest loser. Or for some cases, added layers.

Full battel Royal using colorful cards.

Alright lets move all this angst from the wedding onto Damien’s bday

[ellecdc]

hi! i absolutely love your works, particularly your poly!marauders(w/lily). i think you write them so beautifully and harmoniously that you can't help but fall in love with them.

i wanna compliment you on your recent two-parter about remus and the whole revealing the werewolf thing. the angst to fluff had me on the edge of my seat. thank you for writing such a piece! 🤍

i hope its not too much to ask but in part 1, there's a brief mention of sirius receiving letters from i can assume is his family that lily confiscates and the group tends to love on him a bit more. let's say reader isn't in the loop about sirius' family life and she feels a bit sad that she can't comfort sirius like the rest can, and in general feels lost because it's another thing she isn't 'let in on'. i was wondering if you could write a little something on that? maybe some misunderstandings with a fluffy ending?

i hope this is something you're ok w writing 🥹 if not, its ok! still wish u the best always!

this is so sweet - thank you! & thanks for your request - hope you like it!!

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // pt 5

poly!marauders + lily x fem!reader who find's her own way to comfort Sirius - 2.1k

CW: brief mention of Sirius' childhood, allusions to anxiety, our shy Hufflepuff reader, hurt comfort, Sirius-centric

There was this saying that you never really understood before.

Love makes you do crazy things. 

And while the definition of crazy may be up for debate, you’re quite sure it could be understood as acting completely out of character.

So here you were, acting completely out of character; voluntarily marching towards a secluded end of the library where three Slytherin’s were sitting that you had - up until this point - managed to avoid completely. 

But you couldn’t, wouldn’t, avoid them any longer; not now, not for Sirius. 

The dust settled relatively well after the news of Remus’ lycanthropy had been shared with you; the five of you seemed to find a sort of freedom in not having to hide from one another anymore. Remus could be himself, the other’s could love him appropriately, and you could too. 

But another one of those black envelopes with  a green wax seal showed up at breakfast yesterday, and the group delved into their usual hide-the-envelope-and-coddle-Sirius practice. 

Lily took the envelope and disposed of it, James and Sirius had a floo call with the Potter’s, and Remus’ mum and dad sent baked goods from Wales via owl. 

You had since gathered that these letters were coming from his parents, or at the very least from someone in the Black family; you had also gathered that the contents of the letter’s were hurtful or upsetting to Sirius. And even though he never got to read them, a heavy cloud seemed to form and follow the young ex-heir around. 

And your heart felt heavy; not because they were keeping anything from you, per se, but rather because they seemed to have a routine that didn’t include you.

And while you didn’t want to encroach in spaces that you weren’t necessarily invited in, you couldn’t help but feel like you should be doing more. 

Lily, James, and Remus all had something they could offer Sirius; they all had some way that they could support him. 

You didn’t.

And it wasn’t for a lack of trying on your part, but rather that no one seemed particularly inclined to burden you with any negativity. 

“Don’t worry about me, babydoll; this is standard Black stuff. I’ll be just fine.” Sirius had said when you asked if he was okay; his usual salacious smile significantly dimmed as it seemingly took the majority of his effort in his response. 

The others hadn’t been much help either; Remus and James effectively telling you that you were too sweet to have to worry about such horrid people, and Lily trying to assure you that they had it under control and not to worry - Sirius would be okay. 

And that was all well and good, but it wasn’t enough for you - it was about sodding time you started pulling your weight in this relationship.

So - with nothing more than the teeniest bit of courage you were sure you pilfered from your four Gryffindors and perhaps a healthy dose of delusion - you forced your feet to take you in the direction of the only person in the entire castle you thought might possibly be able to help you. 

“My, my, my; to what do we owe the absolute pleasure, little Puffle?” Barty Crouch Junior mocked as you paused at their table; Evan Rosier and Regulus Black picking their heads up to look at you incredulously and bemusedly respectful. 

“Did ya get lost there, L/N? Need me to find you one of your Gryffindor’s?” Evan taunted, earning him what looked like a kick in the shin from Regulus, though you couldn’t be certain on account of the table impeding your view.

“Erm…I-I was sort of wondering if I could speak with you, Regulus?” You managed to murmur awkwardly.

The three Slytherin’s seemed to have a silent conversation as they shared glances before Barty shrugged and Evan rolled his eyes; both standing and leaving the two of you some privacy. 

Regulus watched as you cast a hasty muffliato around the table - another trick you’d picked up from the Gryffindor’s - and as you helped yourself to a seat with your boyfriend’s younger brother. 

“Is Sirius okay?” Regulus asked quickly, his voice no more than an urgent whisper as he looked at you imploringly.

His intensity caught you off guard; you were so certain getting anything out of the notoriously stand-offish Slytherin would be next to impossible, but he had beat you to the conversation and seemed to be just as worried about his brother as you were. 

You remembered then why you liked Slytherin’s so much; you often found a kindred spirit in them, for one thing that a Slytherin valued most was a sense of loyalty.

Well, didn’t you have enough loyalty to use to your advantage. 

You wondered rather belatedly if you had overstepped. It was admittedly too late to ask yourself this now; standing outside of the boys’ dorm with a package in your hand.

What’s done is done. You had a one-track mind, and that was to help Sirius.

With this, you raised your hand and gently knocked on the door.

It had been James to open the door; his jaw tense until he saw you, which seemed to cause his face to melt into an awkward expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Hi angel.” He greeted apologetically. “You okay?”

You were confused by his greeting, and his question, and the fact that he hadn’t moved out of the way of the door to invite you in as he usually did.

“I’m fine.” You responded quickly, trying to look behind him. “What’s wrong?”

James made a sound of discomfort in the back of his throat as he looked over his shoulder, still not moving to allow you entry. 

“Listen, sweetheart; I’m not sure now is a great time…”

“It’s Sirius, is it?” You asked quickly. His responding grimace proving your suspicions. “I need to see him.”

“Sweets, maybe you could come back la-”

But later wasn’t good enough, you see. You had a one-track mind, and that was to help Sirius.

So, in the name of love making you do crazy things and still acting completely out of character for you, you shoved your way past James’ hip, bending under his arm to allow yourself your own entrance to the boys’ dormitory. 

Lily sat at the end of Sirius’ bed where she had one hand resting on his ankle; her thumb stroking back-and-forth over his achilles tendon.

Remus sat against the headboard with Sirius in his arms; his lips pressed against his hair as he murmured sweet nothings to him.

And as you stepped closer, you could see an indent where James had been sitting, opposite of Lily likely serving the same support as your red-headed girlfriend.

“Siri?” You asked quietly, causing him to stiffen significantly before sitting up and feigning nonchalance.

“Hi doll.” He croaked then, wiping angrily at the tear tracks on his face and pasting on a smile. “Didn’t mean for you to see me like this. What’s up?”

You hated the faux blase act he was putting on for your sake, but you reminded yourself why you were here.

To help.

“I have something for you.” You offered quietly, procuring the parchment wrapped package and holding it out for him. 

“Awe.” He chuckled wetly with a sniffle. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t take all the credit for it.” You replied, watching him pause in the process of opening to look at you in confusion.

“Open it.” You encouraged.

He finished ripping the parchment from the box before lifting the lid.

You felt your heart stop as the lid fell unceremoniously from his hands and a small gasp left his lips at the sight of the small, stuffed black cat sitting inside.

You’d spent the afternoon learning about the tail of two toys; Splash the cat and Padfoot the dog. The only toys the two young Black family boys were given came from their Uncle Alphard in the form of a plush cat and a plush dog; both with black fur as a nod to the family name and the boys’ hair colour. 

Even though Uncle Alphard had given the dog to Sirius and the cat to Regulus, the boys often traded, depending on their current circumstances. 

You learned that when Sirius went to Hogwarts, he had left with the cat. 

When he returned home after having been sorted into the wrong house, Regulus had given him the dog.

And when Regulus joined Sirius at Hogwarts only to be ripped from his brother - possibly for good - after being sorted into Slytherin, he pilfered the dog from Sirius and left him with the cat.

They never discussed those plush toys again.

And when Sirius fled Grimmauld place one horrible night in June between fifth and sixth year, he left with nothing but his wand, the clothes on his back, and his school trunk.

Left behind was poor Splash the cat.

Regulus - fearing his mother would go on a warpath and completely destroy everything in Sirius’ room - quickly grabbed the cat and had kept it hidden in his school trunk ever since.

Until today. Until now.

Now, he left Splash with you; trusting that you would return him to his person, the one who needed him the most.

“How…” Sirius whispered as he quietly pulled the plush toy from the box; hands painfully gentle as if the toy would simply turn to ash should he jostle it. “Where did you get this?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking.” You tried to joke in an attempt to keep the moment light. Sirius simply turned his disbelieving gaze from the toy to you.

“You spoke with him?”

Suddenly, your fears that you had completely overstepped came flooding back; a nervous sort of nausea settling deep within your stomach that threatened to make this awkward moment horribly worse.

“I…I did- I didn’t say anything, of course! Because there was nothing to say, because I don’t actually know anything, which is fine too! I just…I couldn’t…well, you see, I just had to do something, you know? I couldn’t just-”

Your ramblings were (thankfully) cut off when the air nearly completely left your lungs as Sirius attached himself to your middle; his arms winding tightly around your body where they met in the middle of your back. You could feel the impression of Splash against your back from where he was still in Sirius’ grasp.

“I’m sorry if I upset you - I know it wasn’t my place, but-”

“You’re incredible.” Sirius whispered then. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me.”

“You’re not mad?” You whispered back, causing Sirius to pull away from you, only far enough to be able to look into your eyes with ill-hidden admiration. 

“My sweet shy girl; approaching Slytherin’s for me.” He murmured, causing Remus and Lily to snort and James to gawk.

“You did what!?” 

“You do know that a quarter of our school is made up of Slytherin’s, right?” You asked James then; Sirius pulling you back into his chest when you dared to remove your gaze from him.

“That’s entirely too many Slytherin’s, my girl.” James muttered, though he relented in his admonishment of you for your crime of daring to speak to your classmates in order to sit beside your other two lovers. 

“I can’t believe he gave this to you.” Sirius whispered; holding the cat up behind your back so he could examine it over your shoulder.

“He didn’t give it to me, Sirius.” You whispered back as you pulled away from him so you could look into his eyes. “You have a lot of people in your corner; more than you know.” 

His eyes seemed to well again, though he didn’t look nearly as heartbroken as he did when you first walked in, so you counted that as a win. 

“What did I do to deserve you, hm?” He asked then before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

You’re sure you could have counted at least seventeen ways in which Sirius Black deserved the nicest things you had to offer, but right now you were more focused on the feel of his lips against yours.

If love made you do crazy things, and those crazy things brought you to this; this being Sirius moulding himself to you as if he hoped he could make a home for himself inside of your soul, then you would happily spend the rest of you life mad as one could be.

You hadn’t fixed anything, not by a longshot; but you had helped, even if only just a little.

His lips tasted of salt and perhaps some sadness, but also of hope.

And for now, that was enough.

[thedamselzelda]

Don't Wake Me Up

Featuring: Chūya Nakahara

Author Chat: Part One! I feel so bad bc I have left DBH and LBH high and dry bc CHUYA FUCKING NAKAHARA has taken over my brain for the moment. Do not fret, I will return to darling Dazai, but I wanna get this short little three parter done so Chuya can leave me alone. (TBH I have a Chuya plush on the way, so he's never truly gonna leave me alone.)

Will update with main story page eventually, will also update the navigation of my page eventually... hopefully.

wc: 6.7k, sfw, slightly proofread, mild cursing, a little angsty ngl

hope you guys enjoy! Reblog and like if you enjoyed this! <3 DamzelZelda

Chūya Nakahara doesn’t dream. Or at least, he believed that he couldn’t… There was only one time he was truly able to do so, but even now that seemed like a distant memory.

"Ane-san's back! She's back!" 

"Yes, finally!"

Chūya navigated through the dark, winding tunnels of the underground base, guided by the excited voices echoing off the damp stone walls. He rolled his eyes, hearing the unbridled enthusiasm in their tones about your return. The irony wasn't lost on him; you'd be gone just as quickly as you'd arrived, like a fleeting shadow. Not quite a full member of the Sheep, but not an outsider either. Your ambiguous status never sat right with him, though he grudgingly acknowledged that the others trusted you. After all, you were a member before him.

As he approached, the voices hushed to whispers. Chūya's gaze fell upon you, watching as you offered a soft, enigmatic smile to the younger teens. They looked at you with admiration, as if you were some divine being gracing them with your presence. He let out an annoyed sigh, waiting for you to finally acknowledge him.

"Happy to see me, Nakahara?" Your voice carried a hint of amusement, and your attention fluttered up to him. His eyes darted between yours and the younger Sheep among you, feeling a heat arise to his face.

He let out a puff and shifted his weight, crossing his arms as he glared at you with feigned disinterest. "Did you at least come back with something useful?" He ignored your question hoping to provoke some flicker of emotion from you.

Your head cocked to the side, a knowing smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Of course I did. Never disappointed, have I?"

Chūya could only grit his teeth, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance as he turned away. "Let's just hurry up then, that way you can go on about filling their heads with more nonsense."

Your laugh pierced the air, neither harsh nor melodious. To Chūya, it felt mocking, further souring his mood about your return. The sound of your boots clicking on the stone floor followed him as your voice lulled the others away, promising to see them before they succumbed to sleep for the night.

"If you're that envious, I could offer you a taste of what they're so excited about," you teased, your voice grating on Chūya's nerves. He felt your hand on his shoulder, halting his escape through the dim corridor.

Chūya whirled around, feeling the embarrassment rise to his face. "I'm not jealous, alright?" He snapped, hating how defensive he sounded. Despite his irritation, he couldn't bring himself to shake off your touch. Your hand was impossibly soft against his shoulder, its warmth even seeping through his jacket. He tried to ignore the way it made his skin tingle.

He watched your eyes narrow, still maintaining that infuriatingly gentle, calm look you always wore. When you spoke, your words had a teasing lilt that made Chūya's stomach do an uncomfortable flip. "Come on, Chūya. You told me once you think you can't dream. Don't you want to find out if that's really true? I could at least try, you know?"

Chūya's gaze darted between your eyes, searching for any hint of mockery. He didn't hate you, not really, but he'd never admit how much your composed presence affected him. It was unsettling, how you could make him feel so off-balance.

With a dismissive click of his tongue, Chūya shrugged your hand away. "Whatever. We don't have time for this right now, ‘kay? There's actual important stuff to deal with," he muttered, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"Ah, yes..." you mused, your tone shifting. Chūya bristled at the hint of disapproval in your voice. "I heard whispers of your little display today. Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't actions of that magnitude typically require approval from all council members?"

His eyes narrowed as he watched you glide past him. "You weren't here," he countered. "We took a vote in your absence."

You waved a dismissive hand, your casualness infuriating him further. "I would have voted against it. You’ve put quite a big target on us for attacking a Mori Corp airplane."

Chūya scoffed, trailing behind. His eyes caught glimpses of your neck as your hood slowly slipped off your head, and he quickly averted his gaze, annoyed at himself for noticing. "I was sendin’ a message. We have to show we aren’t to be messed with."

"Now, now, Chūya," you purred, spinning around so suddenly that he nearly collided with you. Your faces were mere inches apart, and he could feel the warmth of your breath as you spoke. "Your time to act would’ve come, but now, we have to act. If you had known the rumors flooding the Port Mafia right now, you’d know the time to move would’ve been any time after yesterday.”

Chūya found himself frozen, caught between the urge to step back and the inexplicable desire to remain close to you. He couldn’t even bring himself to murmur out any questions. The mischievous glint in your eyes left him simultaneously frustrated and intrigued. He hated how easily you could get under his skin, how you always seemed to know more than you let on. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but be drawn to the mystery you presented, even as he tried to deny it.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

Chūya felt his cheeks burn as your eyes bore into him. Why did you have to look at him like that? It was unsettling, the way you seemed to focus solely on him, ignoring the other council members. Even Shirase's attempts to catch your attention with fond glances went unnoticed. It made something twist in his stomach, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

"They'll be distracted for a while," you began, your voice low and confident. Chūya watched, trying to keep his expression neutral as you shifted your weight, placing a hand on your hip. The casual gesture shouldn't have been so... distracting. He forced his gaze back to the map.

"Rumors are circulating about the current boss and his predecessor. Seems the depths of hell couldn't hold him after all." Your finger landed on the map, and Chūya found himself following its movement as it glided between two buildings. He tried to focus on your words, not the graceful motion of your hand. There was something strained about your tone, as if you were taking the rumor personally. "It's the perfect time to strike. Two caches of newly imported booze, guarded by about five men each. They'll be too preoccupied with the rumors to properly defend them."

Chūya groaned, letting his head fall to the side to hide the conflicting emotions on his face. "No way," he muttered, hating how his voice cracked slightly.

"What's wrong, your majesty?" Your mocking tone sent a shiver down his spine that he desperately tried to ignore. "We can handle this without you. Quick in and out."

"It's too dangerous, regardless," Chūya argued, moving around the table. He stopped just before you, close enough to feel the intensity of your presence. It made him feel off-balance for a moment, and he had to fight to keep his voice steady. "You'd send barely armed, non-ability users near Port Mafia territory? Are you tryin’ to get ‘em killed?"

Your eyebrow raised, and Chūya felt his heart skip a beat. He hated how you could affect him like this. "Who said I wasn't going with them?"

Chūya clenched his fists within his pockets, a storm of conflicting emotions churning inside him. On one hand, your recklessness infuriated him. Didn't you understand the risks? The Sheep weren't just pawns to be sacrificed. But on the other hand, a part of him wanted to agree; this would be the best time to strike.

He settled for glaring at you, hoping the anger in his eyes would mask the confusion underneath. "And what if somethin’ goes wrong?" he growled, his voice low to hide its slight tremor. "The Sheep aren't expendable. We can't just throw ‘em into danger on a whim."

Chūya knew he was fighting a losing battle - both against your persuasive arguments and the inexplicable pull he felt towards you. He forced his eyes back to the map, desperately focusing on the proposed mission, on anything but how your presence seemed to fill every corner of the room. The Sheep came first. They had to. No matter how much a part of him wanted to agree with your every word.

"We could leave it to a vote?" Your voice drew his attention back like a magnet. He noticed your hands clasped behind your back, a gesture he'd seen countless times before. It irked him how such a simple thing could look so authoritative coming from you.

Chūya sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked to Shirase, hoping to find an ally. "My vote's obviously a 'no'." He hated how his voice betrayed his frustration.

Shirase, predictable as ever, nodded in agreement with you. The others murmured amongst themselves, and Chūya felt his irritation growing. Always caught between the two of you, never able to make a decision on their own.

He scanned their faces, already sensing his defeat. "Fine," he spat, "but I'm not savin' your asses if you get caught." The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

He always lost when it came to you. You held more sway, more influence over their decisions than he ever could. Some 'King' they'd made him. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly.

"No."

Your voice cut through his thoughts. Chūya's head snapped up, confusion etched on his face as you turned to address the others. "I'll leave the room, allowing for an anonymous vote. I understand Chūya has some doubts."

You turned back to him, offering a small bow that left him feeling off-balance. "You should at least be able to state your case. I have other matters to attend to now that I've shared the information."

Chūya stared at you, caught off guard by this unexpected move. He couldn't quite read the expression in your eyes, and it left him feeling even more unsettled than before. As you moved to leave, he felt a confusing mix of relief and an unwelcome urge to ask you to stay. He pushed both feelings aside, focusing instead on the opportunity you'd just handed him. Maybe, he could turn this around without you there to sway everyone's opinion and save himself the headache.

In the shadows of a dilapidated warehouse, just above the war room, Chūya found you cradling two of the younger Sheep members. The kids were about thirteen, he guessed. Your hands hovered above the children's heads, emanating a soft blue glow that shifted to lavender as Chūya approached. The sight mesmerized him—your ability manifesting like the northern lights dancing across a night sky.

Chūya whispered your name, his voice barely audible over the creaks and groans of the decrepit shelter. As the glow faded from your hands, you turned to him, your eyes holding a warmth that seemed out of place in their world. With practiced gentleness, you tucked the kids into threadbare futons, pulling frayed sheets over thin shoulders.

He could never quite figure you out. These tender actions contrasted sharply with the impulsive, almost reckless decisions you made during missions. It was as if two people inhabited your body, and Chūya never knew which one he'd encounter.

"I thought your ability was about creating dreams," he said, meeting your gaze. Something in your eyes made him uneasy—an invitation to a hidden world you longed to share. The idea tempted him, but the dark circles under your eyes betrayed the toll it took.

"Dreams are just part of it," you explained softly. "I can manipulate the entire sleep cycle, pushing someone through different stages at will. Dreams are flashy, but the real power is in controlling sleep's restorative aspects."

Chūya nodded, processing this. Your ability, like you, remained a mystery. Standing in the gloom, surrounded by their sleeping makeshift family, he wondered what other secrets you held.

"So, you're giving them... what, super-sleep?" he assumed.

You chuckled. "Something like that. They'll wake feeling more rested than they have in years."

Comfortable silence fell, broken only by soft breathing and distant sounds of city life. Chūya found himself stealing glances, noticing how the dim light caught in your eyes and the slight furrow of concentration between your brows.

Suddenly, you huffed out a small laugh and snaked your arm around his. "Come on. I have one more piece of information to relay."

"Wha—what?" Chūya stammered, feeling a strange heaviness as you tugged his arm. He jerked back, confused. "Where are we going?"

Your face softened in understanding. Leaning in, you cupped your cheek and whispered, "We have to go where the walls can't listen."

Curiosity overrode his hesitation. What information could be so sensitive? He allowed you to link your arm with his again, walking compliantly as you led him through the drafty corridors of the abandoned building. This place, meager as it was, was home to him and the other Sheep. He wondered if you felt the same, given how often you vanished into the shadows, hunting for information.

As you neared the back door leading to roof access, a voice called out your name. Shirase. Chūya noticed the flash of irritation across your face and had to suppress a grin.

You forced Chūya to turn with you, and he suddenly realized how this might look to Shirase—the two of you walking arm-in-arm in the darkness, an oddly intimate picture.

"Shirase." Your voice was strained, patience clearly already wearing thin.

Chūya tensed, sensing the underlying current of tension. Whatever information you wanted to share, it was clear Shirase's interruption was unwelcome. The air grew thick with awkwardness as Shirase approached, giving Chūya an odd glance before focusing entirely on you.

"Hey, so..." Shirase began, his voice cracking slightly. He ran a hand through his messy hair, a nervous habit Chūya had noticed before. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind... you know..." He raised his hands, wiggling his fingers in a vague gesture that made Chūya cringe inwardly. "Doing your thing... your ability... on me?"

Chūya fought the urge to roll his eyes. Shirase's crush on you was painfully obvious, and his clumsy attempts at flirtation were almost unbearable to watch. The way Shirase stood there, with that goofy grin plastered across his face, made Chūya want to disappear into the shadows.

You answered in a tone that was polite but firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "I'm honestly really tired, Shirase. I've got to leave early tomorrow for the next assignment, since we aren’t going for the alcohol. You know how it is."

Chūya watched as Shirase's face fell, the rejection hitting him like a physical blow. It was almost pitiful, the way his shoulders slumped and his eyes dulled.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I totally understand, no big deal," Shirase mumbled, his gaze darting to Chūya. The look in his eyes was a mixture of embarrassment and something darker.

Chūya shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of your arm still linked with his. He wanted to say something, to break the suffocating silence, but words failed him. The whole situation was mortifying, and he found himself wishing he could use his ability to manipulate gravity and just float away from this awkward position, but he remained still.

You cleared your throat, your voice taking on a gentler tone. "Look, Shirase, I appreciate the thought. But my ability isn't something to be used lightly. It takes a lot out of me, and right now, I need to conserve my energy. You understand, right?"

Shirase nodded glumly, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Yeah, of course. The mission comes first. Always does."

Chūya felt a twinge of sympathy for Shirase, despite his annoyance at the interruption. They were all so young, thrust into this dangerous world of abilities and shadowy organizations. Moments like these – awkward, painfully human moments – were rare and somehow made everything feel more surreal.

"Maybe another time," you added, though Chūya could tell from your tone that you didn't mean it. "We should all get some rest."

As Shirase mumbled a goodbye and shuffled away, Chūya felt the tension in your arm relax slightly. He glanced at you, noticing the way your eyes followed Shirase's retreating form with a mixture of pity and frustration.

"That was..." Chūya started, not sure how to finish the sentence.

You sighed, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Yeah, it was. Come on, we still need to talk."

You guided him towards the door, grasping the ladder outside. As you hoisted yourself up, Chūya followed, trying his best to focus on the rungs rather than... other things. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut at the thought. Instead, he noticed the absence of your blue bracelet, finding it odd you didn't wear it even when wandering the halls of their base.

A sigh of relief escaped you as you reached the top. Chūya looked up to see you glancing down at him, a mischievous smile stitched across your face.

"Couldn't you have just used your ability and beat me up here?" you teased.

Chūya laughed, shaking his head. "Where would’ve been the fun in that? Also, I was followin’ your lead. Chivalry isn't dead, you know."

"Oh, how very gallant of you, King Chūya," you replied with an exaggerated curtsy.

He watched as you moved to the edge of the metal roof, sitting down with a dull thud. He followed suit, leaning back on his arms and gazing up at the star-studded sky. Despite the living conditions, at least it always came with a beautiful view...

"I'll probably be gone for a while..." you spoke into the midnight air, snapping his attention back to you.

"Oh? Planning a vacation?" Chūya quipped, raising an eyebrow.

You gave a small laugh. "Wouldn't you want to extend your outing after an awkward encounter like that? I hear Siberia's lovely this time of year."

He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "I haven't really been on the receiving end of unwanted attention like that.”

You expelled air dramatically. "Are you kidding me? Yuan practically has heart-eyes whenever you so much as breathe in her direction."

Chūya’s eyebrows shot up. "Nah, I don't really notice her like that. She probably just wants to see my ability in action or something."

"That's the thing though, isn't it?" Your voice softened as you curled your legs inward, resting your chin on your knees.

"It's like..." you continued, your voice soft and contemplative, "to them, we're these larger-than-life figures. Not quite gods, but definitely not just regular humans either. In their eyes, we can do no wrong. We're the kings and queens they make us out to be."

Your words hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. Chūya found himself staring out at the city lights, pondering this new perspective.

"But we're not," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm no king... even though everyone keeps callin’ me one… We're just... us. Right?"

You turned to him, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, we are. But sometimes I wonder if anyone else sees that anymore."

A comfortable silence fell between you as you flattened your legs on the metal roof. Chūya noticed you picking at your hands, the skin red and raw. Without thinking, he reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

You looked up at him, hesitation in your eyes before speaking. "What I wanted to tell you, without anyone else hearing... it's about the old Port Mafia boss."

Chūya felt a jolt of excitement mixed with apprehension. "What about him?"

You grasped Chūya's hand tighter, the touch unfamiliar but oddly comforting. His eyes widened slightly at the gesture, but he didn't pull away. "The rumors..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "they're saying Arahabaki has something to do with his return."

Chūya's breath hitched, a mix of curiosity and unease washing over him. "What? What do you mean?" he pressed, leaning in closer, his red hair catching the moonlight.

You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "That's all I could get. I tried to find out more, I really did. I'm sorry." Your shoulders slumped slightly, disappointment clear in your posture.

"Hey, nothing to be sorry about," Chūya said, his tone softening as he tried to catch your eyes. A reassuring smile played on his lips. "I know getting that information must've been tough, considering."

You hummed in response, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Anything to do with the Port Mafia is nothing short of exhausting, especially after being their property…"

Chūya tensed up momentarily, thinking back to your explanation of your escape and arrival at the Sheep. He quickly shook off the dark thoughts, focusing on the present.

"Oh, and there's more." You squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to your words. "Supposedly, there's going to be a Port Mafia member lurking around Suribachi, searching for information."

"Dammit," Chūya hissed, his free hand clenching into a fist. Then, a mischievous glint appeared in his eye. "Of course they're gonna snoop around our territory. But... it could be an opportunity."

Your grip on his jacket sleeve tightened, concern evident in your voice. "Just promise, nothing reckless like today."

A playful smirk crossed Chūya's lips, his earlier tension melting away. "Shouldn't I be telling you that? You're the one constantly putting yourself in the Port Mafia's crosshairs."

You returned his smile, a mischievous glint in your eye. "I have my ways. Men will do a lot for a good dream and rest."

Chūya huffed out a laugh, remembering Shirase's earlier request and your offer. His curiosity piqued, he asked, "Speaking of... if you were to give me a dream, what would it be?"

You glanced back at the cityscape, considering for a moment. "A good life... one where you didn't constantly worry about the Sheep or whoever you were over. Where being 'king' just means being strong and respected, not having all this weight on your shoulders." You turned to him, a soft determination in your eyes. "I'd make that true for you."

Chūya nodded, looking out at the city, the lights twinkling like earthbound stars. "Sounds like a good dream," he said softly, not quite grasping the full depth of your words, but appreciating the sentiment all the same.

He nudged your shoulder playfully, trying to lighten the mood. "But hey, who needs dreams when we've got all this?" He gestured dramatically at their surroundings - the rusty metal roof, the distant glow of the city, the vast starry sky above.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Oh yes, living the high life here on our luxury penthouse."

"Exactly!" Chūya grinned, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Five-star accommodations, breathtaking views, excellent company... what more could a guy ask for?"

Your laughter, genuine and unguarded, filled the night air, and Chūya found himself grinning wider, enjoying the sound.

"You know," you said after a while, your voice taking on a more serious tone, "whatever happens with this Port Mafia business, whatever turns up with Arahabaki... we've got this, right? You and me, the Sheep... we'll figure it out."

Chūya felt a warmth spread through his chest as he gazed at you, his friend and confidant, silhouetted against the night sky. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice filled with determination and a hint of excitement for whatever challenges lay ahead. "We've got this."

He watched curiously as you gave a curt smile and began unzipping your outermost jacket. "Here," you said, shrugging it off.

"Hmm?" Chūya's eyebrows quirked up, wondering what you were up to. He observed as you bundled up the jacket and placed it behind him with a gentle pat.

The nudge on his shoulder caught him by surprise. "I'll give you a dream," you explained. "Just a real quick one, twenty minutes tops."

Chūya hesitated for a moment before giving in to your urging. As he laid his head onto your jacket, he couldn't help but notice the lingering warmth you had left behind. It was... nice. Comfortable. "Oh yeah?" he quipped, unable to resist teasing. "That dream you mentioned earlier seems like it'd take longer than twenty minutes."

Your laugh rang out once again in the night air. He watched as you raised your hand above his head, your fingers hovering just above his eyes. "No, I just had another idea. A dream where you'd actually win at an arcade game for once."

"Hey!" Chūya protested, his hand shooting up to grab your wrist. "That was one time." He felt a flicker of embarrassment at the memory, but it was overshadowed by amusement.

Your playful head tilt and the smile that followed made Chūya's cheeks warm unexpectedly. "Oh yeah? Then how come it kept happening?" you challenged.

He scoffed, releasing your wrist in feigned annoyance, but he couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. "Whatever, just try and give me this dream," he grumbled good-naturedly.

The sudden smack on his chest caught him off guard. "If you even act angry it'll affect the dream so stop it," you warned, your tone light but your eyes serious.

Chūya closed his eyes, exhaling sharply as he tried to empty his mind. It was harder than usual, especially with your presence so close, warm and comforting beside him. 

"Ability: Exhaustion," he heard you intone softly.

As sleep began to tug at the edges of his consciousness, Chūya found himself both skeptical and hopeful. All he ever saw when sleeping was emptiness, a void of darkness. But if you could actually manipulate a dream for him... well, he hoped he'd remember it. The thought of experiencing a real dream, even if it was just about winning an arcade game, filled him with a childlike excitement he hadn't felt in a long time.

Chūya stood before the full-length mirror in his apartment, his nimble fingers working on the knot of his silk tie. The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. He hadn't realized he had zoned out until a sharp vibration from his suit pocket jolted him back to reality.

A scowl crossed his face as he remembered Mori's insistence on his attendance at this event. A gathering of executives, sub-executives, and other Port Mafia affiliates was enough to make his blood simmer with irritation. Social niceties had never been his strong suit.

With a sigh, he slid his hand into his pocket, retrieving his phone. Kōyō's name flashed on the screen, and he could practically hear her stern voice already. No doubt she was calling to ensure he hadn't found some convenient excuse to bow out.

"What?" he answered, his tone clipped as he wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder, returning his attention to the stubborn tie.

Kōyō's voice came through, tinged with exasperation. "Are you even dressed yet? I feel like I've been waiting down here for over twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes, tops. The unbidden thought flashed through Chūya's mind, accompanied by a fragment of a long-ago memory. He shook his head, nearly dropping the phone in the process.

"I'm nearly done," he grumbled, finally conquering the tie. "Whatcha so in a rush for, huh? Not like this is a business meetin' or anythin'."

He heard Kōyō sigh on the other end, a sound he was all too familiar with. "Have I taught you nothing about punctuality, Chūya?"

Rolling his eyes, he set the phone down on the dresser, speaking louder as he shrugged into his jacket. "It doesn't even start till thirty minutes from now, we're fine!"

A groan emitted from the receiver, followed by Kōyō's voice, quieter now. "You really have learned nothing."

Chūya snatched up his favorite hat, settling it at a rakish angle on his head before picking up the phone again. "You gonna keep lecturin' me or should I just call it quits on this whole thing?"

He could practically see Kōyō's stern expression through the phone. Despite his irritation, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Some things never changed, and Kōyō's motherly concern was one of them.

"Just get down here," she said, a hint of fondness creeping into her tone. "And Chūya? Try not to scowl too much. It's unbecoming."

With a theatrical sigh, Chūya ended the call. He cast one last glance in the mirror, adjusting his hat slightly. The man staring back at him looked every inch the Port Mafia executive, but his eyes held a hint of something else. He shook that feeling off too. He didn’t need anyone questioning him tonight about his thoughts of days long gone.

Even as the sleek black car glided through the neon-lit streets of Yokohama, Chūya couldn't help but drift back to the memories that had surfaced earlier. The plush leather seat beside Kōyō felt a world away from the cold, hard rooftops of his youth.

He remembered that night, waking up with a smile that had become foreign to him since joining the Mafia. Your face had been hovering above him, alight with excitement to share the dream and hear his thoughts. In a rare moment of unbridled joy, he had hugged you tightly. You were warm despite the cool breeze, your heartbeat seemingly synchronized with his own.

Chūya squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the memories away. You had told him to forget, after all. But the images kept coming, vivid and relentless.

He saw you crouching before him, water splashing up and soaking your jacket. You were dressed in all black, an oversized hood casting shadows across your face, leaving only sadness visible in your eyes.

"Heard some rumors about you, Chūya," your voice echoed in his mind, "about the Sheep."

He remembered the pain, the stab wound in his stomach pulsating with each labored breath.

"The Sheep... they're gonna be split up. That way something like this doesn't happen again."

Even now, years later, he could feel the grimace on his face as he had looked up at you. "What about you?"

Your soft smile, the gentle touch as you brushed stray hairs from his face - it all felt so real. The handkerchief you had produced from your jacket, wiping away the sweat from his brow.

"I'm not a member of the Sheep, Chūya. Not really, remember?" Your words had stung more than the wound. "So... it's best you forget about me."

He had wanted to reach out, to grasp onto you, but his body wouldn't cooperate.

"But, that dream, what I made for you nights ago... I think you're gonna get that now. The Port Mafia will take care of you, Chūya."

Even now, he wanted to object, to call out the lies. It couldn't have been real, just a nightmare born from blood loss and pain.

"You'll be a king. Just... don't let people get into that head of yours."

The memory of your touch on his cheek, the soft press of your lips against his forehead - it all felt too vivid, too real to be just a recollection.

"Even throughout our endless bickering and fighting because our passions differed," your whispered words ghosted across his skin, "And of all the dreams I've had, you were always in my favorite ones."

Chūya's eyes snapped open, the present rushing back in a flood of sensory input. The purr of the car engine, the faint scent of Kōyō's perfume, the glittering lights of Yokohama streaming past the tinted windows. He took a deep, steadying breath, pushing the memories back into the recesses of his mind.

He was Chūya Nakahara, executive of the Port Mafia now. A ‘king’, just as you had predicted. But as he straightened his tie and adjusted his hat, he couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the dream you had envisioned for him all those years ago.

"What's got you all silent for once?" Kōyō's melodic voice cut through Chūya's reverie, accompanied by a gentle nudge from her ornate fan.

Chūya scoffed, crossing his arms defensively as he shifted in his seat. The leather creaked softly beneath him. "Can't I be silent in peace? Already don't wanna go to this event," he grumbled, his reflection in the window scowling back at him.

Kōyō's laughter filled the car, light and airy. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she opened her fan, the intricate design catching the passing streetlights. "Surely it won't be that bad," she mused, fanning herself gently. "Just come and make an appearance, and maybe Mori will allow you to leave early."

Chūya rolled his eyes, the action exaggerated by the tilt of his hat. "What's the point of this event if even Mori's going to mope the entire time?" he retorted, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "He's still not over that bastard up and leavin'."

A playful lilt colored Kōyō's response, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sounds like you aren't either."

Chūya's eyes widened, his body recoiling as if he'd been struck. The mere suggestion sent a jolt of indignation through him. "Hey! I'm glad that suicidal bastard ain't here anymore!" he snapped, his voice rising sharply in the confined space of the car.

Kōyō's laughter only grew at his reaction, the sound both infuriating and oddly comforting. Chūya gritted his teeth, choosing to let it go rather than dig himself deeper. With a low growl, he turned back to the window, watching as familiar buildings rushed past in a blur of neon and shadow.

Not much longer now, he thought to himself. Then he could make his appearance, play his part, and leave all the sooner.

As the car jerked to a halt, Chūya’s hand was already on the door handle. He pushed himself out, the cool night air a welcome change from the stuffy interior. Turning back, he offered his hand to Kōyō, feeling the delicate pressure of her fingers as she gracefully exited the vehicle.

Closing the door behind her, Chūya took a moment to survey his surroundings. The buzz of anticipation in the air was almost palpable, mixing with the subtle scents of expensive colognes and the night-blooming flowers adorning the entrance. A steady stream of Port Mafia members and affiliates moved towards the building, their finery a stark contrast to the shadows at the edges of the property.

Chūya’s eyes were drawn upward, tracing the lines of the imposing structure before him. The 'Mori Corporation' sign gleamed overhead, its golden letters a beacon in the night. He couldn't help but smirk at the audacity of it all.

Following Kōyō's lead, Chūya stepped into the building. The familiar opulence of the interior hit him anew – soaring ceilings, glittering chandeliers, and the low hum of power that seemed to emanate from every surface. Even after five years, a part of him still marveled at the sheer grandeur the Port Mafia commanded.

His gaze swept the room, cataloging faces both familiar and unknown. Leaning closer to Kōyō, he muttered, "So, who's even here from the affiliates? We don't really deal with them, that's Mori's business."

"Well," Kōyō began as they approached the bar, "I believe the Nagano group Shirubā Sanzu's leader is here. I can never remember his name." She waved dismissively, clearly unbothered by the lapse in memory.

Chūya grabbed two champagne flutes, handing one to Kōyō as she continued. "The Tokyo sister group Onikai is here too. I remember when that girl used to be just an assassin and whisperer. She was so good, I surely thought she'd make executive, but no! She took the job of taking over that syndicate group. She hardly ever shows up to these though."

As Kōyō reminisced, Chūya’s attention drifted. His eyes scanned the room, finally landing on Mori. Good, now he could make his presence known and start planning his escape from this tedious affair.

As he began to move towards Mori, Kōyō following, something made him pause. There was a smaller figure beside the Port Mafia boss, and for a moment, Chūya felt as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet. It couldn't be... could it?

"Then the Mito group—" Kōyō continued, but Chūya cut her off abruptly.

"Wait," he said, his voice tight with sudden tension. "Go back. The other group – what's the leader's name?"

Kōyō's response sent a jolt through him. The name she spoke – it was so close to yours, yet more formal, a longer version of your name. As if she were talking about a person he once knew intimately, now turned stranger.

"I actually think that might be her over there," Kōyō added, but Chūya barely heard her.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he strained to get a better look at the woman speaking with Mori. A whirlwind of emotions surged through him – disbelief warring with hope, uncertainty tinged with a sharp edge of something he couldn't quite name. Could it really be you? After all this time?

Chūya's world narrowed to a single point of focus. He had to know. He had to see your face and confirm whether the past he'd thought long buried was about to come crashing back into his present. Without a word, he passed his champagne flute to Kōyō, barely registering her questioning look in his peripheral vision.

His feet began to move of their own accord, carrying him forward. He didn't care if he was about to make a fool of himself. He had to know he wasn't dreaming.

As he drew nearer, Mori's smooth voice drifted into earshot. "I just wish you would return, my dear. I could instate someone else for you to come back. It's just too nice to finally see you in person again. Ah, it makes me remember your youth."

Your voice – so familiar, yet changed – came clearly in response, laughing off the proposal. "And let my hard work go to waste? Come now, Mori, you know better than I that this has been the best venture for me, for us."

Chūya's gaze locked onto you. Your eyes squinted as you smiled, a practiced look you had no doubt given thousands of times. Mori merely chuckled at your rejection, one you had probably offered several times before.

He noticed your hands clasped behind your back, fingers mindlessly picking and rubbing your nails together – a habit he remembered all too well.

Chūya's lips parted, but no sound came out. He tried to steady his breathing, silently cursing his quickening pulse. He swallowed hard and tried again, hearing your name leave his lips in a shaky whisper.

Mori turned first, then you. Chūya couldn't read the expression on your face, only noticing your eyes dart between his as your lips parted in surprise.

If it weren't for Mori's knowing chuckle, Chūya might have remained frozen in disbelief.

"I'll let you handle this one, dear," Mori said, his tone laced with amusement. "Seems it's time for you to clean up your mess." He patted you on the shoulder before giving a small bow to Chūya and departing.

Chūya watched as your eyes drifted downward, your gaze seeming to bore holes into the polished marble floor. He caught the sharp exhale that escaped your pursed lips, the sound barely audible above the ambient chatter of the gathering. Your shoulders tensed, a minute movement that he might have missed if he hadn't been so intently focused on every detail of your presence.

You gave a harsh swallow, your throat bobbing visibly with the effort. Chūya's eyes traced the familiar line of your neck, memories flooding back unbidden. Slowly, achingly slowly, you raised your head to meet his gaze.

The look in your eyes struck him like a physical blow. It was a complex mixture of emotions – regret, apprehension, and something that looked unsettlingly like pity. Your brows were slightly furrowed, creating a small crease between them that Chūya had the absurd urge to smooth away with his thumb.

"Chūya," you began, your voice soft and hesitant, a stark contrast to the confident tones you'd used with Mori moments ago. "I can explain."

[milkibabe]

Omg I would kill for you to write Craig for your camping headcanons I love your writing sm 😭💗

This was my most requested headcanons yet! Hope I delivered for you guys <3

(Yes, ik its been a month im sorry i disappear sometimes)

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰/ 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 & 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠

✢ summary: headcanons on going on a camping trip with your huge friend group plus your bf's Tweek and Craig

✢ gender: reader is implied to be female <3

✢ warnings: nsfw, mentions of drugs and alcohol

✢ a/n: characters are all 21+, Hey guys, I know it's not the family camping hc's ya'll are used to but I wanted to make it fun and include a huge friend group instead. Also this is a really long list of HCs that I've been working on for a while. So, sorry that it kind of ends on a cliffhanger. If you guys want more, I'm happy to add onto it or make a second parter in the future!!

𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

𝐒𝐅𝐖

Originally Craig didn't want to go to the camping trip because he'd rather be at home, but when he heard how enthusiastic you were he decided to go anyways.

Tweek was nervous to go because he feared the outdoors, but decided to tough it out for you and Craig.

Craig packed very lightly, he doesn't own that many outfits anyways.

Tweek overpacked, his bag was filled to the brim with gear such as a crap ton of sunscreen, bug spray, bear spray, and other random things because 'what if".

You and Craig's crew rode in Tolkien's van to get to the camping grounds.

It was a three hour drive, so you spent it chatting with the boys on the way there.

Jimmy spent the drive cracking jokes in the passenger seat, making all of you groan from time to time.

Clyde was in the very back seat, squished by the cargo the van was holding.

You all exchanged ideas of how the camping trip will go, planning possible activities for everyone to participate in.

Craig fell asleep on you because he was bored by small talk.

Once you got to the campsite you met up with the other groups.

Of course, Wendy's group of girls were already there before you arrived.

"See Wendy, I told you there was no point in leaving early! Y/N and all of them just got here and Stan's no where to be seen!" Bebe complained.

You and Tweek got to unpacking Tolkien's van while Craig sleepily set up a spot for your guys' tent.

After an hour of setting up and unpacking, Stan's truck pulls up to the site.

"See this is why we shouldn't leave Cartman in charge of the directions! We got lost like eight times!" Kyle complained out loud as soon as they got out.

"Shut the fuck up Kyle! It's your fault, I was distracted by your shit fucking music taste! Blame Stan for giving you aux!" Cartman yelled back, slamming the truck door closed.

You and Clyde held back laughter from watching them fight, as well as watching Wendy scold Stan.

After another hour, everyone's stuff was set up as well as your makeshift kitchen/hangout area.

Your tent was labelled to fit up to five people, but it felt a little cramped from the air mattresses you put in there.

It didn't help that Craig was really tall and took up a lot of space.

Stan told everyone that he needed to stop by the nearest supermarket to pick up last minute snacks and buy more ice for the coolers.

Wendy by default was tagging along, but Tolkien as well as Craig wanted to go with.

You didn't want to be left out so you went along too.

Tweek stayed behind because he 'doesn't trust Stan's driving, neither his old ass truck'.

When you got to the supermarket you and Craig looked for your favorite snacks, while Tolkien and Stan bought several pounds of ice.

You and Craig came across pool floaties and decided to buy a few for Tweek, since you both knew he'd be anxious swimming in the lake.

On the drive back from the market Craig leaned on your head and whispered that he loves you.

He has his random moments of sappiness.

When you got back it was already dark, so Kenny started up the campfire so that you guys could cook dinner.

You and the girls pitched in to help cook, since you knew better than to trust the boys to cook.

You loaded two plates full of food for your boyfriends.

When you handed it to them they both lovingly smiled at you.

Even Craig, who normally holds a blank expression.

Tweek went on to compliment your cooking nonstop, while Craig just nodded while eating.

Eventually, Craig was tired of Tweek talking too much and hushed him by lifting his fork up to Tweek's mouth.

Tweek took it as a sign to just eat and smiles out of embarrassment.

After dinner you and Wendy's group chat and catch up on each others' lives and drama.

While you girls are off to the side chatting and gossiping, you look at your two lovers laughing and goofing around with the other boys on the other side of camp.

You smile and think about how your boyfriends are also enjoying themselves.

You head to bed with Tweek around midnight, since you were both tired as fuck.

Since Craig is a total night owl, he stayed up a little longer with Kenny, Kyle, and Clyde. (Stan wanted to join too but Wendy made him go to bed with her)

You could sort of make out what they were talking about since they were talking softly, trying not to disturb the others' sleep.

Oddly, they were talking about the meaning of life and some other philosophical shit.

You rolled your eyes, knowing they probably got into Kenny's stash of edibles after dinner.

You peacefully drift off to sleep on top of Tweek's softly breathing chest.

"We were so fucking lucky to meet Y/N." You hear Craig say before losing consciousness.

When you awake in the morning, Craig has you both wrapped in his arms.

You give the two boys a kiss on the forehead and get up to get ready for the day.

You help Wendy, Heidi, and Nicole start breakfast, since you guys planned to go swimming in the lake today everyone needed a big breakfast.

Bebe and Rebecca came back from the bathrooms after doing their 1000 step skincare routine to also 'pitch in'.

But really they just sat on their phones waiting for you guys to finish.

The guys start to slowly wake up, starting with Kyle and Butters.

The last to wake up was of course your sleepy boyfriends.

Tweek was practically dragging Craig out of the tent, Craig was definitely last to go to bed.

"Ack- Craig we gotta get up or we'll miss breakfast!" Tweek says frantically pulling Craig's arm.

"Calm down babe, Y/N will save us a plate" Craig says before yawning.

You were a little irritated that Craig just assumed you would enable his laziness.

You totally did save a plate for the two, though.

Tweek urged you to eat more since he's always worried about you.

Craig was still completely out of it, he ate his breakfast like a zombie.

Since Tweek goes nowhere without his parent's special coffee blend, he made a huge pot for everyone to share.

He gave a cup to Craig to hopefully revive him.

After everyone was full and recharged, Wendy told everyone to get ready to go to the lake.

You helped your boyfriends put on sunscreen, since Tweek burns easily and Craig wont put on any.

"Babe, I love you but I hate the way sunscreen feels on my skin." Craig said lazily putting his arms up for you.

"Well, you'll hate the feeling of skin cancer more!" You said rubbing it on his arms.

After helping Tweek apply sunscreen, Tweek offers to help you too.

You accept and let Tweek lovingly, albeit very messily apply the lotion to your skin.

When you get to the beach, you help the girls lay out chairs and towels to set up your guys' spot.

Craig helps blow up a bunch of floaties for everyone to use (mostly Tweek).

Craig tethers Tweek's floatie to the cooler that Tolkien brought so that there is no possible way Tweek will float away.

Tweek chills in his donut style floatie while everyone starts to get into the water.

You cling to Craig because that water is mfkin cold as shit.

Tweek floats over you to ask if you're okay.

Before you could respond, Cartman cannonballs into the lake splashing everyone in the process.

Wendy gets mad and starts to yell at him for getting her hair wet as well as Kyle just yelling at him because that's what he does best.

Cartman just splashes Kyle more and starts an all out water war.

No one is safe from the splashing.

At some point you get on Craig's shoulders and battle Bebe and Clyde in a chicken fight.

You and Craig of course win.

The entire time Jimmy, Butters, and Tweek were just floating and watching the whole thing go down from a safe distance.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

The trip started off very wholesome and sweet at the beginning, but soon turned really dirty for the three of you.

The two boys loved to fight over you and make everything into a competition.

When you were busy chatting with the girls, Tweek and Craig made a bet over who could make you cum the most during the trip.

Tweek took advantage of the time he had alone with you the first night you guys were there.

Since Craig was preoccupied on getting high with Kenny and chatting, Tweek made his first move on you.

Perhaps, Tweek was a genius mastermind and convinced Kenny to distract Craig for a few hours. (Kenny's a real bro and agreed to)

You were all comfy and getting ready to sleep with Tweek when he started to kiss your neck, making you giggle from the sensation.

The kisses started to turn from cute to playful, to light nibbles.

His nips at your flesh made you cover your mouth and moan quietly.

He lifted up from your neck and looked into your eyes, basically making sure you were okay with him going on.

You nodded and smiled a little from his precious worried expression.

He then lifted your shirt up and gazed at your exposed chest in awe, taking in your gorgeous form.

Tweek lowered himself once again and started to suck and nip at your breasts.

This earned a couple of stifled moans from you as you gripped at the sleeping bag beneath you.

Tweek took his right hand and slid them between your legs, which you were unknowingly pressing together.

He parted them slightly and used two fingers to rub circles on your clit through your panties.

You arched your back and held back some more moans, hearing some of the boys outside of the tent still chatting around the campfire.

You couldn't take anymore of the teasing so you started to ask Tweek to keep going.

"Please Tweek, m-more" you asked in a whiny, hushed voice.

"Okay" Tweek said whispering back in a raspy tone.

Tweek slipped your panties off of one leg and inserted his fingers inside of you.

You were so needy and wet, Tweek had to be careful not to make unintentional lewd sounds while fingering you.

You clutched onto his shoulders and breathed heavily as he curled his fingers into that special spot that makes you throw your head back in pleasure.

You needed more of him, so you wrapped your legs around him and begged for Tweek to fuck you.

Tweek thought you'd never ask.

He nervously smiled and pulls his pajama pants down, letting you guide him.

You pulled his dick out of his underwear and gave it a few pumps, which got a small whimper out of him.

You aligned him with your needy little hole and let him slowly push into you.

He let you adjust to his size, aka you dug your fingernails into his back while crying and whining into his shoulder.

After giving you a kiss on your forehead he started thrusting into you, being careful not to cause the tent to move too much.

You used all of your might to not moan out loud from the pleasure.

Tweek has the tendency to twitch a lot, but it increases tenfold when he's fucking you.

You just feel so fucking good, he can't help but jerk a little when he thrusts into you.

He takes you into his arms and pounds you into the air mattress, while you sob into his chest from the overwhelming pleasure.

Tweek couldn't exactly hold back his erratic thrusts which may have been slightly audible from outside the tent.

Kenny definitely knew what was up, but everyone else was too high or drunk to notice.

Tweek still was on a mission to get you to cum as much as possible, so he returned to rubbing your clit while he thrusted into you.

It was enough to send you over the edge.

You came hard while he was still inside of you, which almost made him cum too.

But he pushed past it to get you to cum some more.

He continued overstimulating you, causing you to cum another two times.

He couldn't hold back any longer and pulled out with your last orgasm, releasing his warm, sticky fluids all over your tummy.

After you both calmed down he cleaned you up with a wet wipe.

He helped you get dressed and laid down next to you. Adjusting himself so that you could lay on his chest.

While you drifted off to sleep, Tweek took a marker and wrote three tally marks on his left palm to let Craig know about his progress.

When Craig enters the tent an hour later, he sees the two of you cuddling sweetly, fast asleep.

At first Craig smiled and thought it was sweet until he saw the marks all over your collarbone and neck, as well as the tally marks on Tweek's exposed palm.

Craig clicked his tongue and glared at you guys, taking this as a declaration of war between him and Tweek.

He nestled himself on the other side of you and took you both into his arms, while plotting how he was going to rail you tomorrow.

You and Tweek were oblivious to the evil plans Craig was cooking up throughout the day.

His plans all paid off when Tweek fell asleep on one of the beach chairs after getting out of the water to dry off.

Craig swiftly loosened your string bathing suit while you weren't paying attention.

You felt it start to slip and panicked, telling Craig to grab a towel and help you to the bathroom.

He gladly accompanied you to the bathroom to help you 'fix' your bathing suit.

You turned around in the bathroom stall expecting him to help you tie it.

When he didn't budge, you turned around wondering what he was doing.

He just stood there, tall and intimidating, his usual blank expression turned into a bit of a smirk.

"W-What..?" You asked holding your top up with your arms.

"What do you mean what? I know you and Tweek has fun without me last night." Craig said walking towards you.

"Oh that- I'm sorry we should've told you earlier" You said giving Craig an innocent look.

"Nah, that's not the issue I have." He said pushing you into the wall, arm pressed above your head.

He looked down on you and moved your arm from holding up your top with his free hand.

"Just mad I wasn't apart of it, is all." He said grabbing your jaw with the same hand.

Your face became flushed as your bathing suit was barely hanging on to your body.

"Well then how do I make it up to you?" You said looking up at him, slightly pouting.

"You get on your knees, princess." Craig said smiling.

You immediately sink to your knees understanding what he wanted.

You were more than willing to do whatever he wanted because seeing him shirtless made you feral to begin with.

You slid his swim trunks down, enough for his dick to spring out of them.

He watched you attentively, taking in the sight of you kneeling beneath his cock.

You stroked him a couple of times before taking the tip into your mouth.

You slowly took him into your mouth, causing him to grunt from the feeling of your warm, wet tongue glide against him.

Craig took the opportunity to grab your hair and help you go at a pace he wanted.

The pace being a lot quicker than you were expecting so soon.

You choked a bit, trying to keep up with Craig's thrusts.

"Fuuck, your throat feels so good babe" Craig moaned out while tilting his head back.

Craig pulled out of your mouth to give you a second to breathe.

You gasped for air as tears started to stain your cheeks.

Craig then knelt down to help you up, which confused you for a second.

"Oh I'm just getting started sweetie" He said turning you around to face the wall.

You hold onto the wall as he moves your hips to align with his.

You let out a whimper as he enters your needy pussy, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Fuck, I forget how tight you are" Craig groaned out.

You moan out loud as he fully sinks into you, feeling his dick hit that same sweet spot that Tweek had hit with his fingers the night before.

Craig could tell he hit the right spot from the sounds you let out and pulled himself out slightly, making you whine from how slow his thrusts were.

That was when he slammed right back into you, causing you to yelp from the surprise.

"Keep making those cute noises" he said starting to thrust faster.

Your moans and whimpers echoed throughout the bathroom as Craig pounded you mercilessly, causing your legs to give out beneath you.

He held you your hips up and watched as your body started to sink from the stimulation.

Craig was determined to get you to cum, so he drilled into your sweet spot until you clenched around him and reached your climax.

You scream out his name as Craig didn't slow down or pause for you to come down from your high.

He wanted to punish you for letting Tweek fuck you first.

You were too cock drunk to put two and two together, that both Tweek and Craig were overstimulating you a lot.

After you came for the third time, Craig was desperately holding out to beat Tweek, but he soon reached his limit.

Craig quickly ordered you to get on your knees again.

"Shit, be a good girl and swallow all of it" Craig said holding your hair with one hand and jerking off with the other.

You open your mouth in anticipation as he curses under his breath.

He quickly shoves himself back into your mouth and cums down your throat, making you choke a little.

You swallow everything like he asked.

Craig comes down from his own high and quickly remembered he failed to beat Tweek.

"Fuck" He said putting his shorts back on.

"What?" You asked as he helped you off of your knees.

"Nothing, lets go back and join the others. Don't wanna keep 'em waiting." Craig said with a slight laugh.

"Oh shit you're right!" You said realizing how longs its been.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of your week long trip.

[deaf-solitude]

In The Shadow of the Valley Pt. 1 (Squire!Thaddeus x Knight!Reader)

Pairing: Thaddeus x Knight!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: Future graphic violence, injury and blood, no use of Y/N, placeholder knight name for the reader, mostly gender-neutral but reader is called “sir” at some points, the reader is called “my lord” a lot too, reader is also a bit of an asshole but dw they soften up

Summary: You’re a knight sworn to the Brotherhood of Steel, and you’ve just lost your asshole squire to a yao guai. Maybe it’s for the better, as you prefer to work alone anyway. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood thinks otherwise and quickly sends you a replacement. Turns out that the replacement is someone you never wished to meet again, but thankfully, he didn’t know it was you! Not yet, at least.

TDLR; What if Thaddeus was assigned to be your squire instead of Maximus’?

((A/N)) I have no defence for this. I’m so weak for pathetic men it's not even funny 😔 I’m planning on making this a 3 or 4 parter, so this parts a little on the shirt side for simplicity’s sake. Also I swear I’ve been trying to work on some Umbrella Academy stuff, but I got major writer's block for one of my requests that I was super excited to write. I’m hoping this little fallout tangent will kickstart my motivation. Anyway, enjoy my brain rot-induced fanfic bc there’s not enough appreciation for my boy Thaddeus lmao

You really wished you didn’t have to have a squire tagging along with you constantly. Okay, sure, you didn’t want to be carrying that overly-massive bag of shit yourself, but all they ever did was get in the way and die.

That’s how you found yourself in your current position, gripping your radio tightly between your metal-clad hands.

”No, I do not need another squire! Do not send one-“

”A replacement squire is currently on its way to you. Hold position.”

You groaned loudly as you released the call button, feeling inclined to rip the radio out of your suit and be done with the person on the other side of the transmission. You could do this all by yourself. There was no reason to waste yet another squire on a mission that could easily be completed by you and you alone.

Your last squire already had you walking a fine line between focusing on the mission and focusing on not smashing his head into a wall, though the yao guai he pissed off had beaten you to it. You looked back at the cave behind you, where your squire’s mauled body currently resided, deciding to move away from it in favour of getting yourself back on your intended path.

You didn’t stray too far from the general area, however, begrudgingly waiting for the Brotherhood transport to deliver your new squire. You leaned against a tree in wait, sighing heavily as you tilted your head back.

You were starting to regret ever joining this odd faction, though you supposed you didn’t have many other places to turn to as an abandoned child. Some knights had picked you up off the side of the road one day, where you were protecting an injured dog from a small band of rad roaches. You’d been caring for it for days, bringing it any food and water you could scavenge, and you weren’t going to give up on it so easily.

The makeshift spear you made with your small pocket knife tied around the end of a stick made them laugh, and they quickly shot the roaches before offering to take you back to the Brotherhood. They told you that you could help people just like you helped the dog. You, with your big heart and even bigger ambitions, agreed to go with them.

From that foggy interaction, you specifically remembered the look of the squires’ faces when you so readily agreed to tag along. They almost looked remorseful. You understood why now: the Brotherhood was not a very welcoming place to wannabe heroes. You understood that quickly.

…You never did see that dog again.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, maybe a half hour or so, before you could hear the familiar sound of an approaching vertibird. You sighed, pushing off of the tree and straightening up your stance. Here we fucking go.

You hardly had it in you to look up as your new squire rappelled down, the oversized bag he was carrying falling to the ground with a loud thump while he clumsily unhooked his harness.

He had already started talking before he even turned around, sending the rappel lines back up to the vertibird. “Oh, Knight Mire!” You barely registered the familiar voice before you saw his face, and it took everything in you not to scream or curse him out.

It was fucking Thaddeus.

He kept talking even as you froze in place, getting down on one knee and going on some spiel about how he was honoured to be in your charge, but it was drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You were going to strangle this man.

You and Thaddeus didn’t have the… best history. Arriving at the Brotherhood airbase around the same time some other kid—Maximus—did, you were both subject to his horrible bullying for a while. You were able to stand up to him after a while, giving Thaddeus a thorough beating for shoving you past your breaking point in your first few weeks there. You were pulled off of him by some officers and thoroughly scolded by Elder Quintus but returned to normal duties soon enough.

Thaddeus had enough of you after that, avoiding you at all costs as long as you weren’t near Maximus, who was now his group’s primary target. As nice as the younger kid was, he never had it in him to fight back against them. You decided to keep away from him regardless, not wanting to get caught up with those assholes again. Another infraction could’ve meant a much more severe punishment for you, and that was not something you were interested in.

“Uh, Knight Mire?” You were snapped out of your thoughts and looked down at Thaddeus, who was still kneeling and looking up at you with some expression of concern or anxiety. Did he not… recognize you? No, of course, he didn’t: he didn’t know your last name, and as far as he was aware, you were dead as soon as Quintus sent you off base years ago. Being sent off base almost always resulted in death.

Good. That was good.

”Rise, squire,” you commanded, your voice garbled by the voice modifier in your helmet. Thaddeus scrambled to his feet, his posture tense and his arms held closely to his sides. You inspected him a little longer, taking note of his skittish demeanour before brushing past him to resume travelling to your original destination.

“You’ll do,” you commented briefly as you passed him, hardly giving him a second glance to see if he was following.

Thaddeus was a bit taken aback by your words, pausing for a moment to mumble to himself: ”I’ll do…? Do for what?” He blinked and shook his head, rushing to fall in line behind you. He struggled to carry the pack that was nearly as big as he was, stumbling every couple of steps as he tried to balance himself.

”What do we have to do?” He questioned quickly, trying to keep pace with you. Great, still as talkative as he used to be. You could never forget his stupid rants, though they used to be more ill-intended, when he would muster up every possible insult and demeaning phrase he could to try and get you all upset. It worked against him, in the end.

You were tempted to pick up your pace and leave the fucker behind—there was no way he’d be able to keep up with you with that thing on his back—but you decided against it, lest the Brotherhood send you another squire.

”You just have to lug my shit around and try not to die,” you answered begrudgingly, “I will do everything else. That’s all you need to know.” You didn’t need another brainless squire getting in the way of your missions, so you hoped he’d take the hint and shut his mouth. But when did he ever?

”B-but the officers said you’d fill me in-”

You stopped suddenly, causing Thaddeus to run into you. You turned to glare at him the best you could from behind your helmet, but all Thaddeus could see was the intimidating blank stare of your metal face covering as you looked down at him.

“You will follow my command while we’re out in the Wasteland, or you will die. Is that clear?” You growled, taking a step towards Thaddeus while he took two steps back.

“Y-yes, my lord! I-I would never doubt you, m-my lord!” He responded enthusiastically, albeit nervously, eager to stay on your good side. That was going to get old fast. You turned back around to continue walking, slightly picking up your pace as Thaddeus hesitantly began following again.

”M-may I ask you something, though?”

You were unable to stop the sigh that came out of your mouth, the sound garbled and distorted coming out of your voice modifier. That made Thaddeus visibly shrink back, his mouth snapping shut at your disdain.

”Right, no! N-no time for talking. We-we have a mission to complete!” He exclaimed with a finger pointed in the air, unable to expel the shake in his voice from your previous order. Silence fell over the two of you for all of one minute before it was broken: “Do you think we’ll get in any fights out here?”

You were going to kill him, you were sure of it.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Big fan of you and your blog 👋🏼 you have such great analysis on everything ❤️

Do you really think Tommy will be gone before the mid season finale? Don't you think there's a chance he'll be there the whole season like Taylor? I'm sure he's not staying but what if Tim decides to give him more screen time for the plot?

I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Hey Nonnie

I'm so flattered you enjoy my blog and find my analysis interesting! I don't know what to do with having a fan - how exciting - I've never had one before 🥰🥰🥰

I really really do think Tommy will be gone before we go on mid season hiatus and he definitely won't be there all season like Taylor was. The Taylor lasting an entire season was created by a variety of things going on all at once - JLH was going on maternity leave, which left a gap in things that they needed to do something with and the network was actively blocking the show from telling the story it wanted to tell, so they were forced into a situation that they tried to make the best of, and tried to do something different with - the entirety of season 5, but especially the first half, was a mess from a production perspective - they reshot a pretty sizeable chunk of ghost stories and lots of discussions were going on behind the scenes and Tim had also stepped back as a show runner (because he was throwing his toys out of the pram because Fox wouldn't let him tell the story he wanted to!) Fox didn't really want to fund the show and didn't really care about it. Things are very different now were on abc - the network is really excited about the show and are giving Tim and the writers room the freedom to tell the story they want to - hence the fact we got Bi Buck last season and as the 100th episode no less.

The other aspect to this is that I don't think Tim is all that impressed with LFJ's behaviour - there are rumours that he has apparently been difficult on set and refused to play some scenes out how they were written. He was also making all those cameo's and making borderline to definitely not ok comments on other platforms. He's clearly damaged his standing in the industry and I think it likely that he won't get much work come his way from the disney studios going forward!

The show clearly took action on the sm front as he went entirely silent for the entirety of the summer and even now his sm presence is next to non existent - unless its been carefully curated on the 911 sm platforms. This is very likely because they are managing him and his access (even to the point of ensuring he isn't taking pictures and video when on the lot so he can't post to his pages). We've also had only the 1 singular tv interview outing for Lou - with Oliver (because he couldn't be trusted alone as much as the fact that its Bucks arc) which is a clear indicator of things - because this was a pretty big thing when it happened - for not just bi representation, but for the queer community more widely - this is prime time network tv showing someone coming out later in life - thats perfect fodder for

My impression (very much from the outside of things but based on what I've seen and experienced over the years) based on some of the things Tim said both at the end of s7 and the beginning of s8 (which should always be taken with an entire vat of salt!) is that he has made some changes to his plans for the show - because he decided to get rid of Tommy earlier than he had intended to when s7 was still airing.

The impression I was getting from the subtext of what he's been saying, is that he had plans for the bt arc which were a bit more substantial that would've lead to a bt break up sometime in the last 2 episodes before going on mid season break. But we're now in a situation where its looking like he'll be gone by roughly half way through 8a (well it would've been half way through had he not made the plane emergency in to a 3 parter rather than a 2 parter) and that other storylines have been shifted around to accommodate this.

so yeah - I don't think there is any risk of Tommy being given more screen time for plot purposes - Tim is clever enough to have figured out how to reduce it without it impacting the story he wants to tell. So trust the process and just know it won't be much longer (and I'm sure Oliver will be the one throwing the biggest party when he's gone!)

I hope you've had a wonderful day as well 💜

[genericpuff]

sorry if this has already been addressed, but why are the chapter numbers off on dillyhub?

Back when I started mirroring to Dillyhub, I decided to condense a lot of the episodes that were either extremely short to begin with or cut in half for time. Ex. Episodes 1 and 2 were condensed into Episode 1, Episodes 3-5 were condensed into Episode 2, etc. This was mostly to make the reading experience a little more consistent, especially with episodes that were split for the sake of lightening the workload for the week but thematically were meant to be presented as one single episode.

Pacing and reading rhythm are really important to me so I don't like cutting things off in weird places, if I ever do split an episode it's usually where there's already a natural enough conclusion that it can work on its own, such as the Alex episode which was originally split into two parts for Tumblr, but then condensed into one again for Dillyhub. To show you what I mean, here are the separate endings of Parts 1 and 2 that work on their own, but together in the condensed episode turns Part 1's ending into a setting transition and Part 2's ending into the "true ending" of the entire episode:

That doesn't happen too often nowadays though. If there are any production issues, unless an episode has a natural cut off point that can make it doable as a two-parter, I'll usually opt to just delay the episode until it can be presented in full the way it was intended to be.

Back when I started the comic though, I was still just messing around with things and putting out updates that were small but frequent, before I had committed myself to an actual posting schedule. That's why so much of the condensing on Dillyhub happened within the first stretch of the story, because so many episodes were only like 10-15 panels at the time (it's also why on Tumblr it takes nearly 20 frigging episodes for Kore to get home from the party/Hades' house LOL but on DH it's more like 12).

So yeah, it can sometimes cause issues like it did today with the elevator number sequence LMAO but for the most part, the episode numbers aren't really much of an issue unless you jump between both Tumblr and DH, in which case... yeah sorry about that LOL It's mostly just to clean up the episodes that were originally intended to be longer but weren't for some reason or another.

To put it simply, in the hypothetical scenario that Rekindled were a book, its episodes would be formatted more like the DH version than the Tumblr version. Hope that answers your question :'3

[34saveme34]

that was btw, somehow worse than him dying to me

NOT THAT IT'S A BAD THING

I LOVE HOW IT ACCOUNTS FOR SO MUCH OF WHAT HIS CHARACTER IS INSTEAD OF KILLING HIM FOR THE SAKE OF HIM BEING A VILLAIN

I hope he gets therapy

platonic puzzl3.......... save this sinking ship that is Puzzles mental health

if it can be salvaged

yall think later down the line Marty will yoink him from his place of imprisonment and unleash him SOMEHOW even stronger

also I LOVED how they defeated him, but also this bitch is sloppy as hell

he's gotta get his aim better

like yeah he's really good at being everywhere but he's. NOT actually good at fighting

he would need someone like Wren again for that

honestly, Marty, Puzzles and Wren would make a crazy villain trio

they'd a 3 parter to defeat them like that

like yeah uh, as soon as they found where he was, he became vulnerable because he's bad at fighting

also the way he still flinched away and hid behind the TV- like I genuinely think he didn't have the greatest life either, based on what they're implying

like yeah, I just- I can't see it any other way really

cuz it seems like all.... all he had was his TV...... it was his best friend....... he became his OWN best friend

and thus. he was alone

with only dreams that could only try but never succeed at fixing his mentality of- of life in general

like. something VERY important that maybe not everyone noticed

yeah he talks big words and he's Sophisticated (tm) and all that jazz

but. he never truly had the chance to grow up, with the way his life went- that was taken away from him

like he didn't have friends at all FOR a reason

like HOW scared he was to go close to Leggy at first, being scared it was probably a trap or something

as if he has. trust issues

and that implies so so so much more

anyways why was the ending shot focusing on the Tender Tunnel, they didn't need to do that

I'll just- choose to believe it doesn't mean anything so I don't feel disappointed when it never gets brought up again, since this show tends to have shots that seem important then seemingly just. aren't somehow

not that that would make this wotfi any less great! I've been basically talking about how I loved it and how I only have this one tiny gripe with it cuz of knowing this show! so like, don't come at me about it please, or at least not with the intention to dismiss me or say that I'm Somehow hating on the show or the writers or whoever involved

I just have a normal amount of gripes with a show that had been going on for very long with its ups and downs

[fast-moon]

DS9 Season 2 Thoughts

I've made it through the second season of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine after missing out on it during its original run due to being too young to understand it at the time. Let's see how it holds up now!

1. The Homecoming: Kira goes to rescue a Bajoran prisoner who she hopes can unify the planet, but it turns out all the legends about him are just that, and he's just some guy who's not up to the task. But Sisko knows how religious people work, and insists he play the part anyway, since they won't be bothered about whether any claims about him are real or not.

2. The Circle: The plot continues to be too real as a government official conspires with the leader of a small but vocal conservative religious sect to use terrorism to overthrow the government and install themselves. Even the more liberal religious leader still has naughty fantasies.

3. The Siege: The three-parter misses the landing by naively believing that religious extremists attempting to overthrow the government would actually reconsider if shown proof that they're secretly being funded by an enemy power who wants to use them to destabilize the country.

4. Invasive Procedures: Okay, seriously, is Dax just utterly emotionally dissociated from her current body? She shrugs off constant sexual harassment and objectification, she was indifferent about being executed for a crime she didn't commit, she didn't treat Bashir's sexualized replica of her as any kind of violation, and now she's like, "Welp, this guy wants my liver squid. Oh well, bye, guys." Also, I get that Quark's an entertaining POS, but there are certain things he's done that he really should be facing consequences for.

5. Cardassians: Our fabulous Cardassian tailor returns! I'm not sure how I feel about sending the kid back with his bio dad, but if it had ended with him staying with his adoptive family, I'm not sure how I would have felt about that, either. It was a crap situation for that poor kid either way.

6. Melora: The station crew trip over themselves trying to improve the accessibility of the station for a new special needs crew member. Gosh, if only they were that worried about its accessibility for their permanent crew member who still has to contort himself into unnatural shapes on a daily basis in order to utilize its systems. #JusticeForOdo

7. Rules of Acquisition: Quark's new business partner starts hitting on him. His partner then turns out to be a woman, which actually ends up making it even more scandalous.

8. Necessary Evil: Oh, cool, a film noir episode that shows what the station was like under Cardassian rule. Quark finally gets some comeuppance but is saved by plot armor. Odo explores his inner Columbo. He was also apparently a lab subject and then a sideshow attraction before Gul Dukat hired him as security, so good lord, someone give this poor slime a break.

9. Second Sight: A woman in an unhappy marriage literally dreams up a self-insert OC to pair with Sisko.

10. Sanctuary: An entire nation of refugees comes through the wormhole and demands to settle on Bajor because it's their holy promised land. They get denied, then get pissy because one deeply religious group annexing territory from another deeply religious group and then having to live side-by-side has historically worked out so well in the past.

11. Rivals: Prince Humperdinck brings aboard a gatcha game that breaks the universe's RNG.

12. The Alternate: It's finally Odo's turn to get infected with the crazypox that he usually has to save everyone else from. Although, even without the crazypox as an excuse, I think he's earned the right to throw a violent temper tantrum after all the bullshit he's had to put up with. Also, "Wasn't that pillar over here before?" "It was in my way; I had it moved." is living rent-free in my brain due to how deliberate the inclusion of this exchange was yet how utterly pointless it ended up being. A red herring is one thing, but the entire pillar subplot simply vanished entirely following this scene and it left me so confused.

13. Armageddon Game: Aliens gift Sisko a deepfake video of how they would have killed O'Brien and Bashir if they were actually halfway competent about it.

14. Whispers: O'Brien becomes paranoid that everyone is conspiring against him, and it turns out he's right. Nice subtle touch to having him repeatedly order coffee throughout the episode, since his coffee habits in the previous episode were what initially clued them in that he was a fake.

15. Paradise: Sisko: "Excuse me, are y'all with the cult?" Alixus: "We're not a cult, we're an isolated commune that rejects technology and--" Sisko: "Yeah, this is it."

16. Shadowplay: Odo and Dax figure out everyone in the village is a hologram because the episode title gave it away. Also, I really hope that Odo remains aro-ace and the rest of the crew come to respect that, instead of constantly teasing him about his lack of a sex life and ultimately forcing him into thinking he needs a relationship to be happy. He already has to contort himself into uncomfortable shapes to conform. Don't force him to contort into conformity any further. #JusticeForOdo

17. Playing God: Huh. So there are rats on space stations. Also, Dax discovers a potentially universe-destroying proto-universe and decides to dump it in the Gamma Quadrant for them to deal with.

18. Profit and Loss: Quark teaches us that when a woman says "no", she really means "yes" if you hound and threaten her long enough.

19. Blood Oath: Curzon Dax continues to posthumously make me question Sisko's choice in friends, as Jadzia Dax now feels obligated to attend a Klingon murder party that Curzon RSVP'd to.

20-21. The Maquis: Humans set up colonies next to a known bear cave, whine that the Federation won't protect them from the bears, start an anti-bear movement.

22. The Wire: Bashir goes into a panic after his boyfriend ODs. Honestly, Bashir really needs to stop chasing women and recognize he has way more chemistry with Garak. He's always been annoyingly shallow and self-serving to the point that I wouldn't trust him as a doctor no matter how skilled he was. But this episode actually let him give a damn about someone without objectifying them, which is good progress. Hopefully it sticks. Also, Sisko's proclamation to keep Quark locked up "forever" in the previous episode didn't seem to last very long. But at least now I know where the "Especially the lies" meme comes from!

23. Crossover: Bashir learned nothing from the previous episode and goes right back to womanizing and talking incessantly about himself. Damn. Kira's meets her mirror universe counterpart who instantly falls in love with her, which... same.

24. The Collaborator: The liberals lose the election because they're more concerned with their candidate being 100% unproblematic than preventing the entire planet from falling under the rule of a goddamn religious tyrant. (throws table in a fit of "this is too real")

25. Tribunal: O'Brien goes on vacation to Planet Kangaroo Court, which is actually a bit more relaxing than what he usually has to put up with.

26. The Jem'Hadar: are truly truly truly outrageous. And really want to meet a Klingon, and I know we're getting Worf eventually because he's on the series splash screen. But until then, bring on the Dominion!

I found Season 2 generally a bit better than Season 1. I was really uncomfortable with Bashir in Season 1, and he was a bit more tolerable in Season 2. Downright redeemed in "The Wire", then he regressed immediately in the next episode, so I still have a fairly low opinion of him. Dax is another character I'm having trouble caring about since even after two seasons I still have no clear idea of "What would Dax do?" in any hypothetical situation.

Like, if a bunch of monkeys got loose on the station, I can imagine that Sisko would order a containment field and then go monkey-hunting with Kira, who would spend the whole time exasperated like, "Really?! Monkeys?!" O'Brien would technobabble together a monkey trap while grumbling about how this sort of thing always happens to him, Bashir would tell a long-winded story about how there was a similar incident with Emus back at the academy and how much of an adventure it was and he ended up saving the day and then a bunch of women were swooning all over him, Quark would stash a couple of monkeys away to sell later, and Odo would have grumpily already rounded them all up because he's the only competent crew member (and relieving Quark of his monkey stash). And Dax would just... kind of stand there I guess. Maybe quip about how one of her previous incarnations had a monkey. But she just doesn't have enough of a notable personality for me to go, "Yep, that's a Dax thing to do, all right." So far she still feels uncomfortably like a fetish character with little actual substance.

Also, the depiction of the Universal Translator analyzing a new language in "Sanctuary" made me even more perplexed as to how it even works. So, they started out speaking an unknown language, and over the course of the episode, the UT learned it and started translating it. Okay, cool. Except that implies that the aliens -- and probably everyone on the station -- are all actually still speaking their native languages and the UT is just real-time translating them all. But how does this work in a conversation? If Sisko speaks to Kira and Quark, how do they both hear something they can understand? Where even is the UT? They'll beam down to a planet and lose all their equipment but can still communicate with everyone fine. And how does the UT know to stop translating, like when someone will yell in Klingon for one sentence and then switch back to English?

I wonder if there's ever an episode where the Universal Translator malfunctions and everyone has to figure out how to communicate with each other. Heck, might be an opportunity for Dax to actually do something since she's the one most likely to be a polyglot.

Anyway, on to Season 3!

[jaauroo]

Recovery Period

Sebastian Sallow X Reader Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Summary: My own take following the end of Sebastian’s Quest-line. You spend the day in fear of what’s to come next after the events of Sebastian’s choices.

Word Count: 4.0k Warnings: Spoilers for Sebastian and Poppy's Quests Additional Info: Reader is GN, basically no description of them, Hogwarts House is unspecified.

Notes: so i really wanted to do a fic where we explore after the events of sebastian's quest bc I FEEL LIKE WE GET ROBBED NOT BEING ABLE TO INTERACT WITH THEM ANYMORE anyways this is gonna be a five parter, hope you guys enjoy! :) also i havent written fanfiction and forever pls forgive if its not up to standards

Something had felt... off.

The common room seemed unusually quiet. Indeed, it was the very early morning, but there would usually be a couple housemates up and ready to go about their day; relaxing in the morning before they head to the Great Hall to feast on the delicious breakfast selections. In general the atmosphere seemed to have shifted. It just didn't feel the same. The buzz of excitement you had to see your favorite pair of Slytherin boys in the morning faded out to what felt to be nervousness. Maybe it was the events in the past forty-eight hours is what is causing this affect on you. You were simply just imagining things. But you knew deep down, it was not your imagination and it was the unfortunate truth. Harshly sighing, thinking about it was causing a figment of a headache in the back of your head.

But at the current moment you had one goal in mind: Find Ominis Gaunt. If your current situation didn't feel so grim, you would've laughed at how close the two of you are now. Upon first arriving at Hogwarts, Ominis had his guard up around you which caused him to come off as rude in a way. You didn't mind because you knew he didn't genuinely mean it. What caused the two of you to even become friends however, was none other than Sebastian Sallow himself.

Speaking of Ominis- you had to find him. Your last conversation with him left an ill feeling bubbling in your gut. All you had to do after that was wait. But after everything you were tired of waiting, your patience wore thin. It had left your mind racing and the gut-wrenching feeling all remained after hours of waiting. So in a hurry you had left the common room with two destinations in mind. One: The Undercroft. As likely it would be that he'd be there, given how early it was, it was quite a bit of a stretch. Two: The Great Hall. And this is exactly where you will be heading.

Rushing to the Great Hall, you had passed a few familiar faces. All of which said a passing greeting to you and you passed by with a smile and wave. Despite the running pit of emotions occurring in your mind.

"Oh there you are!" A voice shouted off in a distance. Regardless of your name not being called you were inclined to look, the voice all to familiar to you. "Hello Poppy, how are things?" You turned your attention towards the sweet Hufflepuff as she rushed over. Though your mind was elsewhere. "Brilliant! Now that the poachers are backing off. Really I can't thank you enough for everything you've done." Poppy took your folded hands into hers and gave an appreciative squeeze. You lightly chucked and reciprocated the light squeeze to your companions hands. "Really, no thanks is needed. I would do whatever for the helpless creatures a thousand times over." A genuine smile took over your features. Over time at your first year at Hogwarts you've really grown to love the magical creatures.

"A thanks is needed, you're really amazing you know?" Her simple words of praising left you standing taller than you had before. "Please Poppy, no need for flattery. I'd say the same for you." Your tone held a joking manner but it was genuine all the same. A smile graced Poppy's face as she let go of your hands, realizing she held onto them for longer than she should've. Having really only been friends with beasts she isn't certain about what is right and wrong between doing stuff with her fellow humans. "Oh! Sorry I've actually wanted to ask when you'd like to get some butter beers?" Poppy had questioned remembering the main reason she called out to you in the first place. It clicked in your head that your last conversation was mentioned that you both should get butter beer sometime. Especially since Poppy had never gone to get some before. Which you had found ridiculous! You had gotten some when you first arrived at Hogwarts and she'd been here for four years longer than you had. So of course, being her first real friend you had promised an outing for her try it for the first time. Though the sparked memory of getting butter beers on your first day had reminded you of Sebastian. Which had also reminded you that were in the middle of finding Ominis to discuss about that exact person.

"I haven't had thought of an exact day yet. But I need to tend to some things at the moment. I'll send you an owl?" You hurriedly said, hoping you didn't sound rude or that you were just trying to avoid hanging out with her any longer. But she seemed to pick up that whatever it was looked urgent. Plus when she had called out to you she did see how you were trying to rush through the castle without knowing why. Which is why you can not blame her for accidentally derailing your little mission. "Yes! That would be lovely, well off to it then I suppose." Poppy had left with a wave leaving you to your own. Now that you are back onto track: to the Great Hall.

The rest of the way there was less distracting allowing you to rush to the Great Hall without any interruptions. The two large doors leading into the exquisite hall was left open so the sleep deprived students didn't have to struggle pushing open the doors to try and retrieve a breakfast meal. You gaze went over to the Slytherin table, scanning up and down in hopes to find your friend. And it seems luck was on your side today when you spotted Ominis' nicely combed hair. He looked to be eating but in actuality he picked at his food with the utensil in his hand. Relief washed over you when you made your way over to the table, sliding into a seat across from him.

"Ominis." You announced your presence to him with a hushed whisper. No doubt he knew someone sat in front him but he wouldn't have known who unless you've spoken. His head rose in the direction of your voice, before he got to say anything, you spoke with urgency, "Have you spoken to Anne yet?" First his reaction to the question was widen eyes then he furrowed his brows. Ominis, unknowingly, was a very expressive person and you would have laughed at how shocked he had looked if the situation didn't feel so dire. "Merlin not here!" He listened in on his surroundings to make sure no one was within close proximity, "We can talk about it after classes in the Undercroft." Brows still furrowed, he stated the last bit in a low voice so only you could hear. The Great Hall was dreadfully quiet this early in the morning.

You nodded, "You're right, I've just been-" You didn't even have to finish your sentence as Ominis had spoken out of turn saying, "I know." The two of you fell silent after. Ominis knew how you felt, maybe not entirely to your extent, but he knew. No words needed to be spoken about it any further considering the two of you seemed to be on the same page.

Since you were already sat at a table, you decided to help yourself to the breakfast that was steaming fresh in front of you. Not that you exactly felt up to eating, feels as though you can barely stomach food at the very moment. Regardless you gave yourself small portions to slowly consume, whereas Ominis was poking his food not even making an attempt to eat. You had taken notice of it, debating back and forth with yourself whether you should tell him to at least try to eat. In the end you did, but the blind Gaunt could be stubborn, not wanting to do something unless he, himself, has decided to. What had shocked you was he only responded with a nod and attempted to stuff down his food. What remained of breakfast was filled of mutual silence between you two.

The clock ticked in seconds. As each second went by it seemed to go so dreadfully slow. It was like Merlin himself was making you suffer in your anxiety by slowing down the time. But of course it was all in your head.

If you weren't looking at the time, you had looked over at the desk that sat in front of your own. A space was empty. Ominis was in the seat directly in front of yourself, but the seat to his right remained unoccupied. It's usually where Sebastian sits. Right next to his best friend. The empty seat had made you think about how you haven't even seen him all day. The worst case scenario thoughts kept plaguing your mind, rather than thinking of the positive outcomes.

But beside all that drowning thoughts nonsense, you were now in your last class of day: Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hecat, thankfully, decided on not doing any practice spells this day and go by textbook. Not that you don't mind a good duel every now and then, today just did not feel like a day you would want to duel against a fellow student. Guess you could say your mind only wonders about a very important conversation you're about to have. You'd probably end up severely distracted as you duel and get your ass handed to you. Something you definitely do not want.

After what felt like an eternity, the bells had chimed signaling the end of class. Gathering your parchment (that wasn't even written in) and quill, you had shoved them into a small enchanted bag you carry around. Doesn't even matter if the papers were scrunched at the aggressive action. You could finally go to the Undercroft.

Rushing out of the DADA classroom, you had made your way down the staircases to the entrance to the Undercroft. It was quite essential to get there before any other students left their classes and started roaming around the castle since they had just finished up the last class of the day. Ominis trailed behind you, maintaining a bit of a distance, not quite moving as fast as you are. With how quickly you left the class you practically flung yourself out of there into almost a sprint.

The entrance to the Undercroft opened with practiced wand movement. Stepping through led you down a short corridor to a large room that was blocked off by a steel gate. Of course until you step up near it, it would open itself up to you and any visitors.

Sebastian's head raised itself from looking at the floor at the sound of screeching metal from the entrance-slash-exit. Your gaze caught onto Sebastian, he sat hunched over a couch you had conjured. Which- thanks to Professor Weasley for teaching you that, lounging in the Undercroft was considerably more comfortable. Wide eyed, he stared at you then at Ominis who had entered behind you. Ominis had almost walked right into you, if not for his peculiar working wand he would have. You were stopped dead in your tracks staring at the brunette. So, this is where he had been all day. There was so much you wanted to say to him but you felt as if your words caught in your throat.

"What is it?" Ominis had asked as he walked around your figure to further let himself into the room. You broke your gaze on Sebastian to face your friend, "Uhm, Sebastian's been in here..." His reaction to the news was releasing out a sigh. "Let's speak, quickly." Ominis turned to the closest corner near the entrance, away from the prying ears of his life long best friend. One look over at Sebastian just to see his eyes had averted back to looking at the ground. He didn't even want to know what was going on with you two.

Joining up at the corner that Ominis had deemed good enough for you to speak at, silence fell over the entirety of the Undercroft. You stood in front of the blonde, picking at your fingers as you anxiously awaited for him to tell you the news. "Anne has decided to not send him to Azkaban." A feeling of relief washed over you. Good, that's all you wanted to hear. All this anxious waiting just to hear a simple sentence gave you a sense of calmness. "But," He continued, causing you to hold your breath, as if he was going to downpour the actual news to you, "You need to tell this to Sebastian."

Confusion wrote itself onto your face. Not that Ominis could see it, "Wait, why aren't you going to tell him? Wouldn't it be better if it came from yourself?" He had tilted his head down at your questions. The blind Slytherin was struggling to form his thoughts into words. Mouth slightly gaping as he figure a way to word what plagues his mind. "As for now, I don't intend on speaking to Sebastian. I had told him on multiple occasions to not get involved in the dark arts." A frown overtook his features, he spoke softly as he continued on, "He betrayed my trust. I hope you understand."

Upon hearing the mention of the dark arts, you can't help but feel guilty. You felt as if you kind of encouraged Sebastian to dig deeper into it. Even though you didn't. But you also didn't tell him to stop or somehow prevent him from going further. And of course Ominis would be hurt by it. Ridiculous is what you felt when it had hit you why Ominis feels as if he can't be around Sebastian. You did understand, which is why you won't question him further. "I do, and I will tell him the news. And thank you for helping convince Anne to not send him away." Ominis sighed, "Only because you convinced me." A short pause of silence came from him, "Though you may be right about not turning him in. But in one way or another he should know the consequences of his actions."

You nodded along his words, "I couldn't agree more Ominis." It was the truth, yes, he shouldn't have done what he did, and yes, he rightfully should be sent to Azkaban for not only performing a killing curse but also for the two other curses as well. But at the end of the day, he was just a kid (admittedly you all were) desperate to find a cure for his sister. Willing to do anything that in anyway could help. This is why you wanted to overlook his actions. Though, it didn't make him any less at fault.

"Well, if that is all, I'll be off. Good luck." Ominis nodded his head and sent a closed tight lipped smile your way that vanished as quickly as it came. Without giving you a chance to say anymore he briskly walked off to the exit. The steel gates shut closed behind him. This left you and Sebastian alone in the Undercroft. You looked back over to him, taking note how he still refused to glance over in your direction. He was caught in an action of twiddling his thumbs. With a deep breath in, then out, you made your way over to him.

You sat on the three person couch next to him. He in the middle with you to his right, next to the arm. It left a considerable amount of distance between you two. The silence was deafening, Sebastian still caught circling his thumbs around one another. No one had said anything, time ticked away and it just made the Slytherin more anxious.

He stopped his anxious maneuvers and willed himself to look up at his oncoming fate. Quickly then, he realized Ominis was no where to be found. When did he leave? He questioned to himself. Sebastian had been so wrapped up in his thoughts after seeing both of his best friends enter together. At that moment he knew that you two were figuring out a way to drag him to his impending fate of getting sent to Azkaban. But here you were, sitting next to him in silence, just the two of you. No Ominis in sight. Maybe, he thought, you were here trying to ease him into going without a fight, and if he had tried to run Ominis was waiting at the exit.

You had turned your head to Sebastian, his brown hair glowing red under the lit fire, something you've always admired. Disregarding that thought of admiring him, you saw his face contorted into confusion as his eyes traced where Ominis once stood in the Undercroft. "What's going through that mind of yours?" Sebastian turned to look at you, you being the one to finally break the silence. For the first time today, your expression was calm. No longer carrying the anxious look you once bore. Him looking at you seemed to ease his nerves a bit, just only a bit. "I'm being sent to Azkaban, aren't I?" His interlocked hands tightened against themselves as he asked the question. You sighed knowing the feeling of waiting for an impending fate to come. Though it wasn't your fate, it was his, you still worried nonetheless. "No... You're not being sent away Sebastian."

His tensed up eyebrows had relax at the information. Relief washed over him as he leaned back into the couch from once being hunched over, his head resting on top of the cushion, looking at the plain ceiling of the Undercroft. "Good... That's good." He whispered, mostly to himself. The room fell quiet again, you were unsure what else to say more. You probably should mention how Ominis won't be speaking to Sebastian again until he deemed Sebastian trustworthy enough to not go off the deep end again. Rather than letting the boy next to you find out on his own when he tries conversing with Ominis to only be given the cold shoulder in return. "You should know, Sebastian," Your tongue swiped over your lips, unaware of how dry your mouth had became in these past few moments, "it'd probably be best if you give Ominis some space. At least for the time being."

The boy said nothing in return. His head, most definitely, so full of thoughts and swirling emotions. Truthfully it was a lot to take in for him. Everything had felt as if it was all crashing at once in such a short span of time. Sebastian had sent a letter via owl to Anne. The chance of her ever answering was unknown to him. Regardless he wasn't even entirely sure if she did answer back, considering he'd been holed up in the Undercroft since he returned back to Hogwarts from the catacomb. Anne being the person he did all this for, was understandably angry at him, and for who knows how long. He lost her, and now Ominis too.

Nothing could make you leave at this moment. You saw the exhaustion of Sebastian as he sat back motionless, eyes clenched closed. It almost felt as if your heart stabbed in pain at the sight before you. The Sallow boy felt your gaze on him. A thought occurred to him how you were still here. Even in the pained silence. At any moment you could've gotten up and left but you didn't. He was thankful, even though he lost the two very dear to him, you were still by his side.

"I'm glad we met." Sebastian turned his head on the back of the couch to meet your eyes. A sad smile adorning his face. You couldn't help but copy his expression. "I am too, Seb." His eyes scanned your face, taking in your reciprocating features. So much compassion was shining through your eyes, the intensity of it had his gaze break away from yours. He didn't deserve it. Trailing down, he caught your non-dominate hand absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into your wrist.

The soft smile broke, eyes transfixed onto your arm, "How's your arm?" Sebastian had asked so quietly that you almost didn't catch it. "Oh." Now acutely aware of your actions you had stilled entirely. Slight stinging remained on your wrist, though it was tolerable, something you could barely feel unless you were paying mind to it. And the worry that stormed your mind all through out today had made you completely forget of your injury.

Memories of the day before flashed before you. The Inferi, all surrounding you, their face lifeless with only a goal in mind to attack you and anything other living. They had started grouping up and surrounding you, making you focus your attention on them instead of the angry Solomon who had started casting spells both to you and Sebastian. It was when you had just casted a  ring Incendio to make the Inferi back off when you felt a hot stinging flame hit your wrist. The sudden ache of pain caused you to drop your wand and clutch your wrist as if it in some way would ease the pain. Whether if the older Sallow had meant to hit the Inferi or directly aimed for you, it was unknown. You kneeled over in pain, wrist within your clutch and had watch anger consume Sebastian. Everything had unfolded from there.

Blinking away the memory before it had refreshed on that part, you pulled up your sleeve of your injured arm. The fabric had scratched it, soothing the remaining stinging only for it to return not a second later. Site of the injury was a slightly deeper color than your normal skin tone, but still looking much better than it had before. It should be completely healed by the end of the day. "Nothing a little Wiggenweld couldn't fix." You twisted your wrist slightly to show Sebastian the healing wound. He sat up, body twisted to face you to examine your arm. A sudden and quick twitch of his hand was something that didn't go unnoticed from you. Sebastian had an urge to grab onto you, hold your arm and run his fingers along the burn in hopes that it would somehow, in someway, completely heal it at that very moment. As quick as that thought came though, he pushed the urge back. Right now didn't seem like to be good time to do so.

Guilt washed over his face as the thoughts continue running through his mind. None of this should've happened, especially not you getting hurt the way you did. It was wrong of Solomon to have directly attacked you when you were distracted, unfair even. "Hey..." You softly said, placing a hand onto Sebastian's shoulder. "I'm okay." A smile appeared on your face. What exactly was going on in that brain of his, you had no idea but your sentiment seemed to work when he snapped out of his blank gaze. When his eyes caught yours, you almost had half a mind to ask if he was okay. You already knew the answer to that. Instead, your hand traveled down his shoulder and grasped his hand that lay palm down in his lap. His cold skin in your grasp was oddly comforting to your warm hands. Both of you had turned down and looked at your hand overtop his. All of Sebastian's thoughts faded within an instant, your warm hand made his lips quirk upward ever so slightly. He turned his hand around and interlocked your fingers with his. Whatever had been troubling him can just disappear for a moment. For now he just wanted to relish in this moment with you.

Nothing has been spoken following after. Just the two of you sitting in silence basking in each other's presence. The anxiety of today completely washed away, your heart calm and steady, knowing that Sebastian will still be here at Hogwarts, or rather with you. As for Sebastian, his mind was at ease now confirming that at least you were still by his side. Even with all that he has done.

[utahlive]

Sorry!! No episode today but I do have some extra content for you! The Wilbur/Quackity comic (?) has been in the works for a while so I want to show you some of the behind the scenes stuff. Sorry if its not too interesting ^_^’’

The comics are a bit long so I’m going to put them under the cut

Here’s the first draft of the scene, drawn sometime in early December. I was originally going to have it be a daydream Wilbur was having from behind the counter at the store. I decided against it because it felt like a weird transition from him being home to suddenly being back in the store. The dialogue (sorry if you cannot read my handwriting </3) also felt really stilted, plus I had a point I was going for that wasn’t really hit with what was being said here.

These two are essentially the storyboard for the text below. I originally intended for Quackity’s face to never be fully shown, but when I tried to draw it digitally it looked weird. Plus, I feel like there’s more of a connection if you can actually see his face. Im also a bit proud of my cquackity design sorry. This iteration is the one where I decided that Wilbur would be in his car rather than at the story (its very messy, but the 4 tiny boxes on the side is the transition from him smoking in LN to being in his car and driving away).

plus some warmups and deciding how long I wanted Wilburs hair to be at the bottom

Here’s the original script, written on a plane with about 3 hours of sleep. I condensed it a bit, since I didn’t want to draw 15 whole pages and I didn’t want it to drag on. I also scrapped the last part in the notes, obviously. A gradual “waking up” would have worked too I guess, but I think the more jarring transition was more the feel I was going for (the kind of “snapping back” when you finish a memory/when something catches your attention).

I didn’t originally intend for the comic (can I even call it that?) to be a two parter, but once I decided Wilbur would be in his car, it would be too odd to just...go back to normal. I hope it was clear in the final product, but Q only shows up in the reflections of the window/mirror. Reflections are so great for so many things, and I’m definitely going to (continue) to use them lol!

I did get some people in the inbox saying how Quackity’s colors were similar to the sky from the first part, but they’re actually the same (just a bit more glow-y in this part) since I took the sky/background from the previous comic and overlayed it. The whole idea of Q using snippets of speech from the previous comic was also really fun to do. I’ve always wanted to have a story where I can do that (I did it for more reasons that it just being cool, but that’s definitely one of them! haha). Anyway that’s all! If you read this far, thank you for indulging me :D Apologies again for no episode; I burnt myself out a bit, and I’m working on another big episode and those tend to take up a lot of my time.

[popcornforone]

The Winners Circle

A Dieter Bravo Fan Fic

This was in draft form a while, not completed. I’ve always wanted to write Dieter during award season & with Pedro being nominated so much this year it was fitting. Also a huge shout out to @salgal78 she said ahhh I have an idea for a fic for you to write or incorporate & part of it appears in this so thanks my love.

Synopsis: It’s the TV BAFTAS & both you & Dieter are up for awards. Everyone thinks you’re just friends, let’s see if you can convince everyone that’s still the case & not something more.

Word Count: 5800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV (passionate & kinda getting near rough) sex, oral male receiving, established relationship, cream pie, swearing, alcohol, mentions of party & Dieters previous life style, previously friends to lovers, secret relationships, teasing. Public sex, bribery.

Thanks as always for the read peoples it’s really appreciated. All feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy.

Your silver heels sit in the corner of the hotel bathroom ready to head to the BAFTA’s. Tonight you are certain will be your night. You are up technically for 5 awards.

Best comedy show

Tv moment of the year

Best comedy actor (twice for your co stars)

& best comedy actress for you

You & your long time writing parter & first love came from nothing & wrote a hit sketch comedy show which has now reached its natural conclusion. You are both finally getting recognition for this & tonight as you walk the red carpet at the Baftas you will be validated. You strap your heels on & make sure your purple dress shimmers & makes you look fantastic. You leave the bathroom of the suite & see your husband sorting out his purple tie in the mirror. His eyes catch you in the reflection, & the (for once) smart Dieter Bravo turns around. His lips part as he sees you.

“Bloody hell” he says looking you up & down. “What happened to my wife & the comfortable leggins & hoddies she wears?”

“Oooh she’s here baby, don’t worry” you walk up to him & sort out his cufflinks for him. His pocket square as well matches the material on your dress. He is also up for two BAFTAS . For best performance In an international tv show & also for tv moment of the year. His death in the crime drama he was in last year got rave reviews & became an instant meme. It’s almost as iconic as Hans Gruber falling from the nakatomi plaza. “You do need to remember though Dieter, that no one even knows we are dating & just assumes we are friends” after confessing your mutual feelings for each other a few weeks ago, you decided not to waste any time & got married 8 weeks later. Only your immediate families & 2 friends each in attendance for the most romantic evening of your lives. You are meant to actually right now be on your honeymoon, but when you both got your award nominations 3 day’s before your nuptials, you postponed it by a few days.

“I will baby, don’t worry, remember I’m good at keeping these kinda secrets” he says with a wink & gets his phone out to take a selfie of you both before you head off to the BAFTAS. separate cars are coming to get you, as you are travelling with the people from your show who are in the rest of the rooms on this floor.

“I know you are, I mean people have seen us on the red carpet together before as friends…” you look longingly into his big brown eyes & this scruffy hair which you insisted he kept for tonight. It means if you can sneak a few minutes with him & you run your hands through it, it won’t look like you have done that. You do also prefer him scruffy. “But your mine now baby”

“& so are you my wife” he kisses you.

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing that husband”

“& I’ll never stop saying it” he smiles back. Click goes his camera as you both hold each other & take a romantic selfie. For your eyes only.

*

“To the left”

“Looking fabulous”

“Smile”

“How does it feel to be the toast of the awards?”

This is the craziest red carpet you’ve ever been on. There have been some properly famous people walk this in front of you tonight. But you seem to be the person everyone wants to talk to, have a selfie with, be interviewed by. It’s suddenly dawned on you that tonight will change your life. You are being taken seriously & as you pose you get more comfortable & confident in yourself.

“Dieter” a member of the press shouts. Because you’ve been doing so much fan service, interviews & stuff with your colleagues on your show, Dieter has now caught you up on the red carpet. “Pose with her” is shouted & that’s all it takes. Dieter stops his solo geeky pose he’s famous for & because you’ve always posed at events together, it’s not weird to anyone when he pulls you in close around the waist.

“Smile baby” he says as he kisses your hand & smoulders to you & then turns to the world’s photographers.

“I always smile Dieter” you beam at the press. Your hand is squeezing his bum, the cheek nearest to you. He winks at you & leans into your ear.

“Keep doing that…” he whispers seductively “… & you’ll remember tonight for more than the accolades you receive”

“Dieter” you say loudly in shock & suddenly realise people heard you outloud. “Oooh you know how he gets” you play it off & Dieter rolls his eyes. The press know Dieter is know for his slightly risky comments, that’s why he’s celebrity gold for the tabloids. He plays up to his perceived image, but that was just for your ears.

You continue to work the red carpet & eventually make your way into the auditorium & are handed a complimentary glass of champagne & then someone comes to take Dieter to his seat. You knew you weren’t sitting together but right now you wish he was sitting next to you for today. He wasn’t given a plus one & you gave yours to another member of your cast so they could come to this as well.

“Good luck beautiful” he kisses your cheek & is walked into the theatre. It’s only when you walk in that you realise how near the front you & your show are. You also see Dieter sitting about 8 rows back talking to an usher. You sit down next to your Co writer & ex Ciaran.

“So what are you predicting?” He says.

“Two, comedy show & best actor for either you or Pete” you reply.

“Ha” his wife Jess says “you’re always so modest, we all know full well you’re gonna pick up best comedy actress. If you don’t we all boycott the BAFTAs going forward”

“Jess!” You exclaim “you can’t say that while we are actually at the BAFTAs” you tut & roll your eyes & then you & Ciaran say the exact same thing in unisons. “Wait til we’ve at least won one bloody thing” the whole group of you laugh. It’s one of the lines from the show when you talk to others about how inappropriate they are but to do it once that person has left of the thing is over. If you get no other wins tonight this has all made you have a collective laugh.

*

“To present our first award…” the host goes on, you haven’t checked the program to see what order things are in, you were going to do that during the first award, but then you stop & put the list down & applaud as the words”… Dieter Bravo” are said. The room cheers. Obviously to you & your colleagues & friends they knew he was going to be here, they know your a couple probably the only people in the room that do, but the rest of the room is really enthusiastic too. It’s always good when a big megastar turns up for uk award shows. Out he walks in his charcoal suit, pocket square & tie that highlights the outfit, & he’s got his glasses on. That’s your man right there. He’s yours & you wish he was now sitting next to you to keep you calm tonight.

“Comedy is all about timing, something that’s not my strongest attribute, just ask my friends & how I almost didn’t get to my limo in time.”

“Well we’re a shoe in…”Ciaran whispers to you.

“What?”

“The opening award is for comedy show, Dieters presenting, the world knows your friends, they are doing this for a nice little on stage reunion” Your eyes pop open.

“Ooooh fuck” your hand trembles & Ciaran grabs it like he used to when you were a couple but it doesn’t calm you as it shakes anymore. Proving you work better as writers & friends.

“Breathe, it will be okay” Jess whispers, she has known you both long enough to know that there’s nothing going on between you.

After the little highlight package Dieter announces your tv show the winner & you all cheer & slowly make your way up to the stage. You’ve already made the group decision that the two people who will do this acceptance speech will be Ciaran (because you & Ciarán both know Pete is winning comedy actor) & James the next person with the most input. They all are congratulated by Dieter as they go up to the stage & you are last, & you hug him in a friendly way. You then with the other 4 cast members step back & let James & Ciaran talk& accept the award. You slowly feel Dieters hand go around your waist. You’re still listening to what your friends have to say, but you are suddenly much calmer now that you’re next to your husband.

“Congrats baby” he whispers “my little bafta winner”

“Thanks Dieter, the night is still young.” You’re trying to be professional but the way he just poked his glasses back up his nose has got you desiring him. You then slowly leave Dieters side & quickly leap into the microphone to do one last thank you.

“I know it’s a long night so I’ll be quick but I just want to say James & Ciaran are the reason we are here winning this, because let’s be honest they make us all look funny & you were never going to thank yourselves we’re you.” The room erupts into chuckles & you all leave the stage to do a few small interviews with the press back stage, before returning to watch the awards.

*

As you predicted earlier Pete wins best comedy actor. His performance as Grumpy Grandpa is going to be remembered long after any of you are relevant anymore. It is harsh on Ciaran & his characters he created. He is the better performer but Grumpy Grandpa is marvellous, mainly because of the way you & Ciaran wrote it. You sit there as the nominees for comedy actress are read out. You hate being recognised, you’re bad at self praise, but this was always a definite nomination as you missed out on a supporting actress bafta for something else last year because it didn’t meet the bbfc guide lines for international work. This year that rules has now been changed due to people protesting towards Bafta.

“& the bafta goes to…” says Nathan who is a tv show judge & currently flavour of the month looks wise in the British press.

He says your name.

You freeze.

You thought this might happen. But that still doesn’t mean it’s a shock to the system to hear your name be read out loud. The room erupts in noise & cheers & you sit there as Ciaran hugs you.

“Oh my fucking god” the room is filled with noise & people congratulating you but it’s all silent as your head trys to process what has just happened. You have a solo bafta. The room is a blur as you make your way to the steps to go & accept the award. But as you reach the stage & Nathan comes to hug you, you just catch a sight out the corner of your eye. Dieter is wiping a tear away a few rows further back. He’s standing up & applauding like everyone else but his eyes are glazed. He’s proud. He’s proud of his wife.

You are brought to an even more surreal reality of winning by a hug from Nathan. He tall dark & handsome even more so in person, smells divine & he gives you a hug.

“Congratulations” he says his eyes dancing “finally” he says & he hands you the BAFTA. Your BAFTA. You don’t need to share this one. It’s just where you’re gonna put it. You almost drop it. It’s so heavy. It doesn’t look it but it really is a weight. You get to the podium & put it on the stand & take a deep breathe.

“Well ladies & gents,I can confirm that Nathan does smell as good as he looks” the room laughs. You’ve broken the ice at the start of your speech. You have a rough idea about who you need to thank but you’ve not written it down. You’re going to speak from the heart & then you properly begin.

“Thank you Bafta. This is incredible. As are my 4 other nominees in this category. It’s hard enough to be a woman in this world anyhow let alone showbiz, but comedy is the hardest job of all so I want to say thank you to my fellow nominees & the women who came before us for giving us this opportunity.” You point & look at the rest of the friends from the show.

“I need to thank my guys & gals from the show, mainly Ciaran for being an amazing writing partner for over a decade & to his amazing wife Jess who let him just after they got married to go spend 10 weeks in a room with his ex & trust us.”more people laugh. “I also want to thank my parents, my brother & his wife & all the friends from the beginning who let me tell them bad jokes for years you are always my inspiration & to my new friends that I have now I’m a big shot apparently” you do quotation marks as you say that. A member of the press who doesn’t write fairly about women when they are successful said that you’d soon be a big shot & it would be the end of your tv show. You’ve waited 3 years to own them back.

“I also want to thank the viewers for sharing our show over the years, you watching meant we could do wilder crazier things, so thanks for the support, but the person I really want to thank is whoever it is who’s listening me right now. Be it a girl a guy a they or an I. I never thought I’d be here, I have always been told nah not today or well try this or be this. I may have changed a little recently but I’m am most me in front of my lap top typing. I may now be a comedian & actress but I am a writer, & my dream was to be recognised for that. So whoever you are out there, keep striving for the dream, be it you want to be a doctor or you want to complete the ironing tonight you’ve got this & I believe in you.” The room applauds & you smile & then you raise your BAFTA in the air & finish your speech. “Thank you so much BAFTA & D I adore you” you make eye contact with Dieter as you say that. You always say to each other that you adore him in public instead of saying you love him & he does the same. It does mean I love you to each other though. The room gives you a standing ovation & you walk off back stage to speak to the press about your well deserved win.

*

That’s it for your shows win for the night & Dieter doesn’t win either but next comes the after party & dinner. You are nowhere near Dieter for dinner, but you can now text him & you make a point to walk past his table & he does the same to you. Dinner is finished & the party really gets going. A world famous dj is mcing & the music is banging. You’re stood there chatting to Nathan who presented your award earlier, your bafta has been taken to be engraved & will already be at your hotel room when you get there later. It’s been replaced with a glass of champagne.

“Sorry about the comment about how you smelt Nathan, but you always look phenomenal”

“I mean I do judge a beauty show, I have a reputation to live up to”

“As do I with my comedy & ad libs” you both laugh. “But you do smell good” you then smile. Nathan assumes it’s for him but it’s not. Dieter is walking your way behind Nathan with the other judge from Nathan’s Tv show.

“Ahhh Nathan I thought you should meet the rather Dashing Dieter Bravo, he’s interested in having a new suit” Violet says. Nathan turns & sees the look on Dieters face & looks him up & down every detail taken in. Nathan shakes his hand.

“I know me needing a suit? Ironic” Dieter giggles sipping his whiskey, trying to to keep smiling at you. Violet then interjects.

“& congratulations to you, lots of wins today, you created such a wonderful show… have you watched it Dieter?” He almost chokes on his whiskey. He came to set a few days before you were a couple to watch how your show is made. He knows all too well the effort you put into making it.

“Oooh yes I have, I love it, she’s very talented with her hands…” he lingers & then shouts”… at typing” he’s blushing & you just stand there smiling, knowing exactly what he meant.

“I’m sure she is” Nathan winks “Violet let’s go mingle & Dieter you can get my information & I’ll do you a suit fitting” Nathan then shakes his hand again & then hugs you goodbye “I’ll leave you & your other half alone” your face looks a bit shocked as you pull away & look at him. “His face, your eyes & the similar styles & colours on your outfit plus that new glistening ring, I’d say you want some alone time”

“Wow Nathan no one else has clocked”

“Well they are all idiots” & he leaves & Dieter smiles at you before putting his glass down & flinging his arms around you, lifting you up & spinning you around in the air. You do a small scream. People don’t take notice this is what Dieter does to all people, he’s friends with. When your back in your feet he whispers softly.

“Congratulations to my my little miss double bafta winner” he kisses your cheek & you wish you didn’t have to hide your relationship at the moment. You would love the world to know that you are Mrs Bravo.

“Thanks Dieter, sorry you didn’t win”

“Oh but I did, the world wants to speak & be with you but only I get to do that.”

*

After dancing & networking, you leave the party. Both you & Dieter are now a little bit tipsy & not drunk. A line of limos are waiting outside, so you hold his hand & March him into the back of one of them & ask the drive to go the long way to your hotel.

“Have you had an amazing night my love?” Dieter asks as he tucks your hair behind your ear that’s come down slightly & kisses your neck. Your hand goes straight to his thigh.

“Yes Dieter, one of the best nights of my life”

“Well you deserve it”

“So do youuuuhooooo oooh Dieter” his teeth graze down your neck making you shudder with excitement.”im sorry you didn’t win though”

“Oh no I won, the world wants you for 5minutes ,i have you all to myself” you plunge one of your hands into his whispy hair before he hold you in place & you make out in the back of the limo. You know from experience that these driver keep thing’s professional & don’t over step the mark. But as you stroke his length from above his trousers, you can feel his anticipation building. He’s getting hard with each touch stroke & kiss. He wants you & the way he is sighing means he might cum in his trousers soon, if you don’t help him out.

You grab the intercom & buzz it to the driver.

“Complete disgression which will come with a very generous tip?”

“Of course just let me know when your done, traffic is a nightmare tonight so it might take a…”

“Thank you” Dieter announces & slams the intercom off as he unbuckles his belt.

“Dieter?! That was rude!” You scoff at him he likes it when you a bit moody, it’s a turn on but what’s not a turn on for Dieter. “Sorry he’s drunk” you apologise & then really turn the intercom off.

“I’m not that drunk my love, I’m at the right level” he says “& I hope you give me more than the tip”. He winks & he unzips his toruses & from the inside of his boxers out flops his massive erect penis. You lick your lips in excitement. For years you had heard girls & guys talk about how good Dieters cock was for blow jobs & he’d always said they’d been alright but the first time you took his length inside your mouth he came in seconds. Maybe it was just the idea or desperation for him to claim your mouth but he always repays the favour.

“Oooh my mouth likes to go all in baby.” You kneel on the limo floor & push your hair from your face. You spit on his leaking head. It’s angry & waiting to be welcomed for relief. You look up at him & smile. “All the way?” He stares in disbelief you’ve only done that when you were both high on lsd but you enjoyed it.

“You… you…sss…. You’re sure” he man spreads fully.

“Totally ” you’ve been stroking him for the last few exchanges & know it’s time. Down you go. Not all the way starting with the tip you want to go further down with each bob. You want him to get even more lost in desire the further you go.

“Oooh yesss, oooh fuck baby yes” he loves how your small little mouth which always is so polite, accommodates him. Your tongue lapping around it, how the saliva costs him. He grips the seat in the limo looking down as you take him further inside you.

“Fuck, I have won, you’ve not sucked anyone else tonight off” one hand has moved to his thigh, stroking it. Adding extra tension to him. His hips can’t be constrained as they start to gyrate. You know this is your cue to go deeper.

When he fills your cunt with his penis you wonder how it fits. Therefore you’re always shocked that when it hits the back of your throat that you don’t run out of air. It’s always a mess when you’re finished with him, but damn he always feels so good when you give him oral.

“Oooh baby, more, more, can you go further?” You flutter your eyes at him & nod & his hands go into your hair to encourage your bobbing. “good girl, my fucking good fucking slutty wife” he moans & his hips move & his hands go into your head too. The teasing blow job is now a face fuck. & he is grinding his teeth & snarling in desire. He holds your hair keeping you in place so you don’t Bob & he fucks further down your throat. “Eye contact baby” you reconnect as you stare at your husband. “Fuck oooh fuck” each thrust harder. Your taste buds already tasting some of him. He grips your chin in place so it doesn’t budge. He’s going so hard you’re worried about the mess you will make soon.

You gagging around him. Your nose is in his pubic hair when you reach the base each time. There is no relenting. Dieter is getting everything out in this blow job & his shirt is starting to dampen from sweat from the excitement it’s building up inside him.

“Baby I’m gonna,… gonna cum… so…so…” he growls but due to the change in his rhythm you already knew this. You’d pulled back slightly. You didn’t want to choke when he came, that had happened before, it was not a nice feeling for either of you. So he’s not fully down your throat, as his hips shudder. “Fucking fuck oooh fuck” he screeches & Dieter spills into your mouth. Funky & salty, the ropes of his seed have your taste buds standing to attention. Swallowing every drop. His eyes are closed as his pleasure is complete. He leans back on the limo seat, as you slowly let his penis go & give it a few last licks before taking a napkin to wipe it clean.

“Still tastes like a winner to me baby” you eventually state, swiping your thumb to wipe up a small bit of cum on your lips before softly & seductively licking it clean. You wait til his eyes are open before you do this. He lets out a soft giggle & sigh.

“I’ve slept with countless people who have performed oral on me & yet there’s something about your reflex & the way you slurp that always turns me on more than anyone else.” He helps you back onto the seat of the limo & redresses him bottom half.

“Before or after….”

“Oooh the first time you sucked my cock I was like oooh this, this here is next level.” He smirks rubbing your hair in a hazy state. “Everyone before me must have been idiots…”

“Actually Diets…” you interrupt “you are the only man I’ve ever performed oral on”

“What!?” He’s shocked “this is a joke right” you shake your head.

“On mine & yours life…”

“Then why me… why no other guy before me”

“Because i knew you liked it, expected it & I wanted to return the favour, knowing how legendary the rumours were about your own mouth is at pleasuring cunts”

“Wow” Dieter leans in & deeply kisses you. “Well I appreciate it every time, & I will return the favour of making your clit quiver…” his hand goes under your dress & you feel his hand reach for your knickers, but the limo then stops.

“We’re here” the intercom voice announces.

“Probably best to do this in our hotel room actually, much more room” Dieter then leave a £250 in the back of the limo. “For your discression” he says & he then drag the two of you out of the limo.

*

You are woken the next morning by a knock at your door. You ignore it at first but then the phone in the room rings. You unhappily wriggle free of Dieters grip, those long muscular arms wrapped around you, not wanting to let go. Eventually you get the phone & gasp, grabbing Dieters Jacket from last night to put on & answer the door, you don’t want to answer it naked. Your face is full of joy as you sign the security forms & take the large black & gold box back into your room. Dieter has stirred at the commotion, your excitement & you slowly pulling yourself away from him.

“Babe?” He asks half asleep as you stand at the table & open the box. His eyes light up when he can see your bum cheeks popping out the bottom of his jacket. You turn your head & smile.

“Morning sexy”

“No your the sexy one in my jacket” Dieter replys with a big stretch before his hand goes under the bed sheet to try & calm his morning erection, but with the way you look that’s not going to happen, it’s just going to have to wait a few minutes.

You stand there & lift up your 2 Baftas which are now engraved with your name show & date.

“They are here,” you put one back in the box as they are both heavy & slide onto the end of the bed & do the thing you’ve always wanted to do if you ever got your hand on one, use it as a face mask. Both you & Dieter laugh at this. Dieter leans to his bedside table & takes a snap of you on his phone.

“For insta later baby”he says with a wink.

“But I’m all but naked Dieter?”

“You don’t need to hide your body beautiful” he’s taken the bafta from you to look at it but he’s clearly distracted. “What time is your tv show press shoot this afternoon?” He asks as he tussles his hair.

“4pm why?”

“Good” he kicks off the bed sheet showing he’s completely naked & aroused, & put the bafta on the bedside table. “We didn’t celebrate enough last night” he pulls you fully onto the bed so that you’re on top of him.

“Who ever said we did?” You smirk leaning your head to his for a sensual kiss. Your hands running through that crazy untamed fluffy hair.

“Oooh sweetheart” the words escape his lips as both your eyes close as the intense kiss continues. His hands go under the jacket caressing your body, making sure you’re in the right place for pleasure to begin. “My winner, my winner at everything” he slowly puts his hand on your behind & lowers you onto his meaty length, the stretch as always extraordinary. He’s so big & you gasp. He lightly pushes his hands into your bum so you start to rock down onto him, pleasure already spreading through your veins, pumping your blood. His hands after a few motions move to help you undo the few jacket buttons you have as he looks up at you as you both slide it from your body, tossing it off the bed.

“You’re so beautiful baby” he moans, his hips already at a good rhythm. He looks up at you as you ride him. Your pelvis rolling to meet his thrusts, as that special place is starting to be hit. His hands grip your hips. Finger marks will be there for a while after this is over. You trail your hand down your body, eventually stopping at your clit, stroking starts slowly but then gets more vigorous. Dieter would usually do this by he’s in a trace as you make oooh fuck noises, & your spare hand squeeze a nipple.

“Fuck Dieter oooh fuck”

“Yea baby like that, I like that, so fucking good” he pants back. “Why is your cunt so addictive?” He’s moving faster you know what he wants.

“Because your the one fucking it” you whine back your hands now on his chest, those hairs so fine but so nice to run your hands through. It gives you both goosebumps.

You then hoover over him & spread your legs a little more knowing full well what will happen when you kiss him next. He slows slightly his body knows it too.

“Fuck my pussy baby” you hold his face & lick it & he grabs your bum firmly. Your lips connect for a really exceptional kiss full of lust, tongues dancing together, faces almost melting into each other. But that’s all he needs. He thrusts, & pumps & is relentless. Hitting the spot every thrust, the motion of him pounding your cunt, has you screeching quickly.

“Oooohhhh fuck fuck fuck oooh yes yes yesssss fuck oooh fuck” are the only words you can say, as your body shakes as you approach your orgasm.

“Best cunt, my cunt” he crys as he bites your bottom lip not wanting your lips to be apart. “Fucking this tight little pussy til you can’t take me baby”

Your sweating & moaning & the blood inside you is boiling with this feverish sex you are having. You grip the pillow as he gently puts his hand around your throat.

“Dont cum yet baby” he asks but you can tell from the creaking bed & the sloppy sensation as he keeps sliding within you, that he knows you can’t hold it for too long. “Tell me baby, what are you”

“A winner”

“No”

“A slut”

“No”

“The best sex of your life”

“Erm… I was after something else”

“Your cum hungry wife” you whine & then open your eyes as his grip around your neck gets tighter.

“That’s it baby, now you can cum mrs Bravo”

“Dieter!!!!!! Ooooh fuck” you clamp the hardest you ever had, your release sends shives to all your never endings as you cum & your body stutters.

“Damn oooh fuck oooh shit ooooh fuckkkkk” Dieter follows suit, filling you up. Your walls coated in his seed a few thrusts later. Satisfying you both. Your sweat drips onto him as you lay on top of him as your softly take him out of you & you hold each other close. You can feel everything drip out of you onto him but neither of you care about the mess after that incredible spontaneous session.

“So” you eventually whisper when you can make a noise, & lift your head. “I’m the best sex of your life?” Dieter blushes.

“Well when you make me lose control, yes you are” he smirks & boops your nose.

“Hmmm it’s a shame you’re not mine…” you say with a pause waiting for a reaction, you both no that no man has got you off as many times as Dieter in the few months you’ve had sex. But he doesn’t for one instant believe you, his happy little face gives you some side eye. “Of course you’re the best sex of my life Diets & you know I am a very good wife”

“Do you think bafta would hand out an award for best sex?” he asks

“No they aren’t coming to watch us”

You say sternly, Dieters had several sex tapes leak.

“Of course not but we’d win hands down baby” he jokes & you rest your head on him again.

“Do you think that’s the only way you’d win a bafta?” You ask

“Nah I’ve got everything I could ever want to win, right here & turns out I didn’t need a prize to validate how much I’m in love with you” his kiss is soft & he rolls on top of you for a much more sensual round, before you have to come to the realisation that your world has changed so much in not just the last 24 hours but the last few weeks & months since you finally got your amazing husband.

[lovediives]

eyeballs emoji for um EVERYONEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

nat.

well. i guess this is gonna be a TWO PARTER THAT ILL HAVE TO RB TO SPLIT UP!!

i love fanservice. genuinely but only if its a man who is old. LIKE GENUINELY WHAT IS THE POINT OF HIM BEING SHIRTLESS? (its for me)

guys dont judge me for being insane. but the game literally rewired my brain and the way he looks here. well okay. shut up. maybe im the problem. but like hes so scrunkly. cute. i want him. here

nao better then me. i would have pulled down his pants and showed him a real your turn to sh- sorry.

the way he looks here is just genuinely so pretty. like i wanna kiss him so BADDDD I HATEE HIM SO MUCCHHH. LIKE THE LOOK OF SURPRISE. THE WAY THE LIGHT SHINES ON HIS FACE. i wish i was immune to men with pretty lashes.

oomfie you know i dont have much to work here. but do you remember when i was in call watching this scene and it made me look gay as fuck? this is why this screenshot is here. reminds me just of that.

dont look at me. i dont. i dont know what to say. like i hate how stupid his grin is like hes so smug about it to. like do you have any common decency. aieeeee

BYE THIS IS SO FUNNY. strangely enough he does not make me wanna kick him like a puppy. i think he genuinely looks very sweet here and i like to drink tea with him and smile :)

this post is getting so long. but know that when i saw THIS i knew that was bae. this was pookie and she was going to stick around for a LONG LONG TIME (shes still holding on STRONG) god i love how he hair makes it looks like tails. the way she holds herself. everything about it. A MOTHERS SLAY!!!!!

tweaks. you just had to be here. when i see this. its like the angels above came down above to tell me that i deserve nothing but joy and happiness LIKE WIFEY WANTED TO SEE ME AND WAVE AT ME!!!!!! i lauve u princess i lauveeee u. shes so cute here. i wanna twirl my fingers in her hair and giggle and laugh with her. and then she picks me up and (woah lets pump the breaks there)

you IDIOT FOX!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE GOING TO FALL IN THE WATER. but youre so cute about it like what you trying to impress me or smth <3 cause its working. like eek a boat ride with him could save my life. his little quote that comes after it. like he knows what hes doing and he knows its working.

i say this from the bottom of my heart. if they gave him top surgery scars here and confirmed him to be trans. he'd be top there. something about him is so f/o core and gender at the same time. like hes so cute. plus he looks like kaira. which makes him a bit hotter.

this is where the clones would go but theres four of them SO WE'LL ADD THEM AT PART TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

i know i posted this already but dear lord this is literally rotting my brain in real time. i unironically need him.

the pose here is just funny. like let it go old man. youre no longer hip with the kids. (but i love how smug he looks here like what the fuck is wrong with you <3 youre about to LOSE)

NO COMMENT NO COMMENT NO COMMENT NO COMMENT NO COMMENT this blog is for EVERYOEN (18 and up only) but i am FUCKING CRAZY!!!!!!!!!!!

the little wave here is really cute.. eek. ignore the blood and the knife. but it makes him so playful and funny. like can we frolic in the fields my love

Bro TAG ME IN!!!!!! TAG ME IN!!!!!!!!!! when i was born i did not ever think i would ever wish i was a key. and yet HERE THE FUCK WE ARE!! she looks so cute here and its so weird. i love her tired little eyes and fucked up smile.

i think im at a point where i just am tweaking but idk hes kinda hot. like do you guys see what i see? no? can you lie and agree with me anyway?

THIS LONG ASS POST........ IS ABOUT TO GET LONGER IN PART TWO!!!!!!!!!!!! HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON OOMFIES!!!!!!!!!!

[sasiaucompetition]

Round 2 Side B Poll 3

1. Deja Vu/Hero Worship - @/Greenninjagal (ao3) vs. 35. Pick A Side (i love you and everything is beautiful) - @/arealsword (ao3)

Propaganda:

Deja Vu/Hero Worship:

Image ID: A screenshot that reads: absolutely incredible superhero au with slam-dunk pitch-perfect characterization that breaks my heart every time. and this is coming from someone who usually can't stand superhero aus.

End Image ID

Pick A Side (i love you and everything is beautiful):

Image ID: A screenshot that reads: okay so, i'm sure and i hope this author's amazing long fics are gonna be recommended to hell and back (hey, they wrote a fic about thomas going to hell, too!). but. BUT. I need to highlight the one shot collection. And one specific part of it in particular. Pick a Side has some amazing one shots, but there's an underrated three-parter in there that grabs you by the chin, looks deep into your eyes, and anakin-memes you while there's blood pouring from its mouth. you go "this is just a normal coffee shop au, right?" and the story winks at you with three eyes and goes "yeah. don't worry about." "don't worry about what?" you ask, while thomas spends the entire first chapter freaking out and the entire second chapter gaslighting himself into being a functional pawn of customer service while the universe unravels around him and he refuses to acknowledge it. it's also a queer coffee shop they all work at, and roman's and virgil's dynamic is particularly wholesome in this one. there's a super funny bit where they try to fix a coffee machine in which a nokia got stuck and virgil suggests finding out if it's actually indestructible. there's like, fifteen other items also jamming that machine. don't worry about it. okay, i'm just rambling, so in short: the prose is absolutely fucking excellent. it's a funny and creative take on a coffee shop au with underlying and not really subtle existential horror thrown in the mix, because the fluffiest coffee shop au in the world won't keep thomas sanders from having a mental health crisis in the middle of his living room. it's an amazing fic and i love it and everyone should read it.

End Image ID

[industria-adastra]

[WMMAP] - Magnum Opus: Flipping through a child's eulogy (3/5)

Prev - Next

Summary: It’s strange, trying to get used to a new puzzle piece in her incomplete picture. But Jennette is kind, and with the waves of change alongside her. So Athanasia dares to hope.

But it is not to be.

Note: Sorry this took a while but admittedly this took a lot longer than I expected. Chapter 3 ended up getting split but this is where most of the build-up is for before the anvil really drops in this now 5-parter of LP timeline Athy's moral bankruptcy arc.

-----

After the disastrous event that was her debut—By the sun and stars of Obelia she had a sister —Athanasia found herself staring, empty-eyed, up at the ceiling. She had no real idea of how she even got herself back to her room, or how and why no one seemed to stop her. If only to bombard her with invasive questions about her as the nobles had done so earlier.

But then again, they were probably all occupied with Jennette, weren't they? A new princess, who looked far lovelier than the forgotten princess in blue. Jennette Margarita, a shining new piece on the chessboard of noble politics. 

Athanasia rolls over to stare emptily at the overgrown greenery beyond the window. The glass is one of the only objects still sparkling clean compared to the rest of the dusty rooms in the palace. 

Lily must’ve cleaned it earlier. 

The garden, as beautiful as it was, was wild and overgrown. How many years had it been since someone took proper care of it? Her body curls within herself, drawing her eyes away.

A cold weight settles itself on her shoulder. Strokes her in a comforting manner with only the brush of freezing air to alert Athanasia to her mama’s movement. 

A few minutes later, that cold hand is replaced by another much warmer one.

“I…heard about it. Your debut, that is. What happened during it was…” Lily trails off, unable to find a perfect word to encapsulate this entire situation.

And then, she shakes her head, her resolve strengthening. “But you should know, Princ—No, Athanasia —that no matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side.” Her hand moved to comb through her hair, delicate fingers picking out the hidden ties within her hair. “And you know why?”

Athanasia stays silent, merely turning her head to look up at Lily.

“Because I promised, remember? And you know that, if it’s you, Athanasia, I will always, always, keep my promises to you.”

(Diana takes the moment to let her emotions be known, an all-encompassing wave that cocoons Athanasia in its warmth. Smooth like silk and gentle to the touch, it was all too easy to understand.)

And if Athanasia’s eyes start to overflow with tears, and her body begins to shake, neither Lily nor Diana makes any comment about it. They simply stay beside her. A silent comfort.

-

With the sudden reveal of Jennette—a potential new heir—everything was thrown into chaos. Both nobles and commoners gossip and whisper, wondering about the royal family. Of changes in relationships and the succession of the royal family. Since Jennette Margarita was older, would whoever married her become emperor instead? (Groups of noble boys sigh in relief, because although they could not remember what Jennette looked like in detail, they remembered a girl who was so lovely and beautiful beyond comparison. Her image buzzed in their minds like a persistent fly.)

But, most said, wouldn’t you think it’s a terribly one-sided battle?

After all, how would the second princess, the daughter of a lowborn commoner and unknown to all, even compare to the lovely Margarita girl? 

Rumours fly from the mouths of the members of the most exciting debutante of His Majesty’s age. About Jennette Margarita—now Jennette de Alger Obelia—they would say, sweet and kind and perhaps with a head sometimes up in the clouds, but ever so darling and dear, the new princess of theirs. About Athanasia de Alger Obelia, they’d sneer, gloomy and despondent, who would ever want her?

And so, and so, everyone waits with bated breath to see whether their speculations will be proven correct.

And they would be, time and time again, until one day they’d be pulled from the peak of their euphoria, down into the flames of hell and horror.

-

When they first meet, it is within the boundary of the Ruby Palace, in an overgrown field of grass and wildflowers and weeds.

Athanasia is practising her magic again, lying under the cooling shade of a large tree. Raven lies nearby, and her mother watches on with interest. The whispers and wailing in her ears have all but stopped after the trainwreck that was her debut, but still, Athanasia prefers the quiet open of this area. Better than the confining, decaying air of the Ruby Palace. Only Lily made it seem alive in there. But today she seems to be busier than usual, so Athanasia has quietly left her to her work.

Her black-blue mana weaves shapes in the air, dancing through the plants, giving energy to some, taking energy from others. It crackles and pops as it does so, staccato beats following a discordant rhythm. 

Today is a fine day.

Until, of course, there’s a sudden intrusion in the form of her newly “discovered” older sister. Athanasia immediately stops any usage of magic, wary, but puts on a polite smile in greeting. A question blooms within both her and her mother’s minds as they wonder: What would Jennette Margarita be like in relative privacy?

Unknowingly, Jennette offers a rather positive answer to that.

“Hello! You’re Athanasia, right? I’m so glad I finally got to meet you!” Jennette beams at her, lowering herself to clasp Athanasia’s hands in her own. Athanasia, in turn, fights the urge to flinch away at the suddenness of her actions. She seemed…highly forward, and almost brash in her approach. 

But, it wasn’t like this eagerness to know herself, know Athanasia as a person, from her new… sister wasn’t wanted. Athanasia wonders if she could get used to it. Get used to positive attention from a different member of her family (not from the one she truly desired it from).

Warmth blooms, just a little. But it’s there. Maybe she still could. Maybe she could.

Athanasia simply opts to listen, watching Jennette ramble on about her long-lived desire to meet her, watching her grow more and more nervous. Raven, now having surreptitiously moved over to her lap, watches Jennette carefully. 

Jennette is an open person, speaking of endless details about herself, to the point where one would think she’d never learned the meaning of the word “discreet”. Athanasia learns about Jennette’s favourite flowers (daisies), her favourite colour (blue), her favourite pastimes, and her hopes and dreams for her newly reunited family.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell her that their father, whilst a good and just man, is not one to offset his work in order to spend time with his children. So she smiles, and answers every question Jennette goes on to ask her with polite, near-perfunctory answers. 

Athanasia takes the time to take in Jennette’s features—the brief glances during her debut, marred by her despair, were not enough to form a good image of her within her mind. And Athanasia, as much as she tries, cannot fathom how this is her sister of another mother. Jennette’s hair is brown, a trait inherited from her mother, where generations of their family had been blond. The only thing she can find that even remotely reminds her of their father is Jennette’s jewel-blue eyes, and even then, they gleam with green when the sunlight passes over them.

Jennette’s features are, strangely enough, like a mirage. An aura of magic coats her skin; something lurks, trapped beneath her flesh, thick and sticky yet as flexible as water. It pulls at the light, softening her features and sharpening them at the same time, as if her creator still could not make up his mind on how he wished for her to look. Still, it always tries its best to make Jennette look as physically attractive as possible. Athanasia recognises this kind of magic, having entangled her hands within similar variations.

Black magic. Forbidden magic. Layers upon layers of it, as if it were the makeup of her sister’s existence.

Strange. Should she question Jennette about it? While she’s still chattering away at her? Athanasia mulls upon this decision, unconsciously starting to comb her fingers through Raven’s thick fur.

Unfortunately, it isn’t long before a maid calls for Jennette, pulling her away from the odd Second Princess with distrustful eyes. They do not trust her with her new sister. Evidently, they read too many melodramatic novels.  

Now that Jennette has left, her mother comes closer, having observed the entire interaction. And Athanasia sees that her gaze is cold, as they watch Jennette move further away from the Ruby Palace. 

She wonders where Jennette lives, if not in the Ruby Palace like her. (Whichever palace it was, it would be one more well-loved than hers)

“Could you feel it too, Mother?” She asks, staring at this icy version of her always-warm mother. “There’s so much magic woven within her, and it’s… different from how the mages of the Black Tower feel. I can barely even feel anything similar to my mana, the royal family’s mana, because most of it—” She pauses, and sees her mother tense, looking pointedly away.  Athanasia pretends she doesn’t see it. “Most of it feels like… Black magic. Forbidden, cursed, magic.”

It takes a while for her mother to respond.

“The Penelope I knew—or rather, the emperor told me about—was never magically inclined. Ambitious and beautiful, but with barely an ounce of usable mana to become even a low-level mage.” Her mother still doesn’t look at her. Athanasia is unsure what to make of this strange non-answer.

“So, it’s artificial then? I assume it would be before birth, as otherwise, I believe she would not be quite so… her . But whyever would Father agree to such procedures? I didn’t think he’d be the kind of person to willingly subject his family to such danger. Even if Penelope Judith must’ve asked for it. Especially since our bloodline practically guarantees some degree of usable mana compared to others.” It’s a puzzling thought for Athanasia, an uncomfortable, squirmy sort of thought. Father, the holy Emperor of Obelia, someone who’d sink his hands up to his forearms in forbidden magic? Athanasia banishes that thought as quickly as possible. 

Diana cannot bear to tell her daughter what the voices have told her, what her memories are telling her. That Penelope Judith had only lain with Claude’s brother. That Jennette was unlikely to be his daughter. That Claude knew this and yet was more welcoming to his own niece than a daughter he had with someone he had so desperately claimed to love. So she chooses her words carefully, measuring them within her mind before allowing them to fall from her lips.

“...I think, Athy, that—” Diana’s face is unsteady, a crack in the glass as she abruptly stops. “—that when it comes to people we love, we may not always know them as well as we think we do, because there are so many facets to a person.” 

Vague, vague, vague. Her mother’s answer is vague and does little to calm her with its implications. But Athanasia doesn’t want to argue. 

“I know.” That is all Athanasia says in reply, and that is all she leaves it to be.

(Hate was so easy to cultivate these days, when one’s emotions were connected to those of others.)

Such blissful ignorance is something she wants to keep her only child cradled safely within, if only so she would not be further hurt. She descends to wrap her arms around Athanasia, her only treasure, her most precious beloved child.

They sit in silence together for a little while longer. Yet, Athanasia notes, as she looks up at the darkening sky, it seems like a storm would come. And soon.

-

Jennette Margarita…no, Jennette de Alger Obelia is an enigma to her. An enigma through her very existence and how she is. How she treats everyone. 

An older half-sister she’d never met, with a personality she’d never gotten accustomed to. She is a cheerful, sunny girl in contrast to Athanasia’s dark and gloomy disposition. Forceful in her own ways like a gentle force of nature. Athanasia doesn’t think she’s a particularly bright girl, not instinctively picking up on how and why the servants and guards react like so depending on which princess they’re encountering. Jennette didn’t seem particularly well-read either, having seemingly been kept within an isolated bubble for a large part of her years. A bubble that was tailored to how her previous guardians saw fit to design. A bubble that she accepted without much thought. 

Athanasia had torn apart her own bubble a long, long time ago.

But Jennette is kind. At the very least, she treats her with the desire to become close. And perhaps, that is what draws Athanasia toward her, like a moth finding another source of light to hold onto. A little bit more affection to have and consume, another island in a sea of apathy. She isn’t sure if she’s being too greedy, coveting another pair of warm arms and a warm smile. 

(Athanasia remembers a face as solid and cold as ice from years ago. With another member in the family, one that he clearly cared about—with the unceasing flow of new baubles and fabrics given to her—would he welcome her now? A girl who’d do her best to repay his love and attention with all her being?

She doesn’t know the answer until one fateful tea party.) 

-

Meeting her father again for the first time in years is not as much of a happy affair as Athanasia thought it’d be. 

For one, her tea sits cold on her plate, and Athanasia also finds that her appetite has long left her. There is no mention of any of her dedication to the country and her studies, nor her desire to be useful to him. No, her father simply ignores her in favour of Jennette. Watching her, though not with familiar warmth.

It’s an emotion entirely different from her mother’s, and something about it makes her feel cold. The awkward silence hangs like a sword on a thread, as Jennette nervously nibbles on her snacks. Not even her typically sunny demeanour can defrost the ice lingering in the air here.

At least Mother is here, gently squeezing her, just enough to feel her warm-cold presence. Athanasia wonders why she hasn’t shown herself to her husband, pushing away memories of derisive whispers about a low-born dancer with more grace in her pinky toe than in any of their entire beings. Her fingers fiddle with one another, now wishing she were in the royal library instead, studying to be better.

At last, Jennette takes the plunge to end the awkward atmosphere.

“F-father!” She practically shouts, “I-I’ve heard that Athanasia is quite good in her studies, so maybe there is something she could help you with?”  Sweat lightly lines the side of her head, glistening. Her hands fumble about with the polished silver utensils.

The blatant plead for them to interact is so evident, that it would have been more subtle to plunge a sword into his gut. Athanasia barely keeps her muscles from reflexively cringing. But at the very same time, a bit of hope dared to bloom. Perhaps her father simply needed a little prompting. 

And it seems like he did, because right after, he turns to her, the same look of apathy still on his face, but he is looking at her and Athanasia’s mind runs through hundreds of imaginary conversation starters.

“Is that so?” He says, deceptively light before his next words. “Athanasia…”  Pausing, he appears to be contemplating something. “...so that was your name. And what an amusingly arrogant one it is. Who’s daughter were you, to have thought you’d be able to live up to such a name?” Cold like always, he fixes the full force of his icy gaze onto her, pinning her down like a butterfly specimen to be thoroughly examined. He eased himself into a languid position on his chair as best as possible, waiting, demanding her answer.

Her mother’s arms tighten imperceptibly, just as Athanasia feels a twang of disappointment at her father’s blatant forgetting of her beautiful, wonderful mother. It clashes with the rush of emotion that sears through her veins at having her father’s full attention on her (though not because of her). 

Suddenly, a rush of noise fills her ears, phantom memories of blood and death coming back from long ago. It is vivid and hazy in her mind’s eye, overlapping multiple perspectives into one as she steadily gazes back at him. 

Yet he is always covered in blood.

Athanasia tastes blood on her tongue, blood in her throat. Feels it on her hands, soaked into her dress. She blinks and it’s gone as quickly as it appears.

(Mother doesn’t seem very happy)

She tries to keep her voice even. “Diana of Siodonna, Father. I’ve… I’ve heard that she was a beautiful dancer.” Even so, her words are spoken haltingly, chosen carefully. 

At that, she could see his eyes narrow in sudden hostility, something dark flashing across them. One of his hands moves to tightly grasp her chin, moving her face this way and that. The pressure hurt, felt as if it could fracture her delicate bones.

Yet his next words fracture her heart. 

“Diana? I’ve never even heard of that name.”

-

He wishes (demands, really) for her to refer to him as “Your Majesty”. With that, the distance between them widens ever more. Was “Father” not respectful enough for him? But she acquiesces to his request (again, more of a demand). Because he is her father. Because she loves him (and all he stood for).

She loves him like a daughter to her father and a worshipper to her idol.

But Athanasia finds that it’s becoming harder to reconcile reality with her idealised images.

And yet, she clings to thin threads of hope anyway.

-

Diana feels the rage of the others within her boil and bubble, caustic and cutting, as she notices Athanasia being brushed off again and again by Claude. Something screams deep within her, louder and louder as it becomes increasingly clear that he remembers her not. She learns to hate from others, learns to hate through circumstance and with the help of the negativity entwining with her. It’s an addicting feeling that’s all too happy to grow as she watches Claude take their daughter for granted again and again. 

Sometimes it feels as if their consciousness merges in and out. Although most of the other women hated her terribly in the end for being the favoured one of the emperor, they all could understand the feeling of being abandoned, being treated lesser by someone whom you adored. They could understand how love and like could curdle and sour into hate. 

Diana had gambled on their love, on her judgement of his character…

And it turns out that she’s fumbled the roll all along.

-

Sometimes, Athanasia thinks she hates them both—her father and Jennette.

Her father for how he underestimates her, practically pretends she doesn’t exist, the easy affection he gives so freely to Jennette even as Athanasia strove to reach his heaven-high standards. Could he not see her desire to help him? Could he not see how much work she put into her studies, no matter how she tried to convey it to him—whether it be through pathetically desperate verbal questioning about his interest, or her showing off as best as she could her ideas on how to perhaps help her Empire prosper more.

Jennette, for how easily she gains her (their) father’s affection. She fails miserably at certain subjects, stays happily within her own enclosed bubble without a care for the outside world, and yet. And yet, and yet, and yet—

(Athanasia can’t really blame her, not really. Because Jennette is kind. Because her father has more important duties than an attention-starved teenage daughter. Because the fault is probably all her own. Good with books, terrible with people, better with ghosts. What a mess .)

He couldn’t even bother to spare her a single glance. What did she lack? What did she not have? What did she need, who did she need to be so he’d gaze at her like Jennette?

Why couldn’t they be together as one happy family?

(Why couldn’t he be the father she wanted him to be?)

-

She caresses a thorny rose, admiring its beauty, lightly gliding her skin on the thorns. 

Not a second later, Athanasia pricks her skin on them.

It leaks blood, slowly, surely, before it clots.

She stares, watching. Wondering. Ruminating.

-

Ijekiel Alpheus. He is Jennette’s fiancé, and Athanasia listens for words that slip through the cracks. Jennette loves to talk about him. The girls at every tea party held in the palace love to gush about him, plying words of flattering praise on Jennette as thick as honey. It often feels over-excessive. 

Perhaps they envy her. 

(But who wouldn’t? With her perfect life and perfect personality, it is easy to love her and even easier to hate her.)

Ijekiel is Jennette’s childhood friend, their affection for one another having been fostered since day one. She wonders if he is the white-haired youth she saw on that day. He had worn his charm like a well-worn mask, gently guiding Jennette towards His Majesty. Beautiful and handsome, all soft edges and a princely demeanour.

He must be. House Alpheus is the only white-haired, gold-eyed noble family she knows of in Obelia.

-

Athanasia meets him on a summer day. A maid eagerly rushes to Jennette, telling her of her fiancé’s arrival. Her sister brightens with excitement and proceeds to drag Athanasia back to the palace to meet him. 

Her mother has opted to stay and relax with Raven back in the Ruby Palace. Lately, Mother feels tired through the threads that connect them. Athanasia briefly hopes the rest will do her well, before allowing herself to be pulled in the rush of emotions Jennette visibly emits before they enter the doors of the Emerald Palace. 

For some reason, Athanasia always thought the colour would suit Jennette well. Better green than blue.

(Better to be in any other family than—) 

When they arrive, Ijekiel has his back to them. He’s been waiting. Clothed in white and gold, Athanasia cannot help but wonder if it is an intentional choice of House Alpheus. She supposes it lends a more ethereal quality to Ijekiel, whilst also being easy to match with their hair and eyes. It certainly looks more intricate and fine than her pale blue dress. 

“Ijekiel!”

Jennette lets go of her hand to practically leap onto Ijekiel’s back, arms wrapping around him tightly as she beams. Athanasia opts to stand back, a couple of steps away, allowing space for the pair, waiting for him to turn to meet her.

The first thing she notices is that his eyes are like unpolished gold.

Yet as they finally lock eyes, jewel blue meeting dull gold, Jennette’s happy words “This is my fiance, Ijekiel…” fade into the background, and those eyes appear to sparkle as if wrapped in a Mesmer. He smiles gently and moves to place a kiss just above her hand. As he does so, his gaze feels like it’s attempting to see through her for what she is. It is a strange sparkle that has lit within his eyes.

“A pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

Something about him changes at that moment.

And it is all too strange that such a gaze would cause her to feel flushed below her clothes. Would cause her breath to hitch and a feeling of breathlessness to rush over her. Maybe she overworked herself this morning with the spells, growing flowers willy-nilly for both Lily and Mother. There’s nothing else that could explain this.

As always, Athanasia opts to ignore unwanted feelings.

(She cannot have him; a terrible choice for a first infatuation)

-

On a summer’s day, they meet again for the second time. This time, it was by complete accident. Whilst walking back to the Ruby Palace from one of the Imperial libraries, Athanasia finds herself nearly walking into Ijekiel. Thank goodness for Mother warning her just in time before they could collide.

Immediately, she reacts with a “My apologies, Lord Alpheus.” He bows in return. A beat of silence follows soon after, and as there is no reply, she continues with “Were you looking for Jennette? I believe she should be finished with her dance lessons soon…” Shifting her books to her left arm, Athanasia snaps open the pocket watch on her side. “...In about five to six minutes or so.”

“No worries, Your Highness. And, I’m not here for Jennette today. I simply felt like visiting one of the royal libraries.” Ijekiel replies, smiling. Then something appears to catch his eye, and following his gaze, Athanasia looks down to see her books. More specifically, a theorem that was published by Roitz a few years ago. Bound in dull brown and without much decoration, Athanasia wonders why it is this book that catches his attention specifically.

“Is that…?”

Athanasia is quick to reply with her own query. “Lord Alpheus, do you recognise this?”

“Yes, is that not Roitz’s book on the intricacies and differences between black magic and forbidden magic? I have read it before on a whim. However, there’s not much I can do with such information, seeing as I am not a mage. Although,” he looks back up into her eyes, “speaking of mages, I do not suppose it is much of a surprise that Your Highness reads such things.” 

Her own blue eyes stray away from his intense gaze. “If I may, Lord Alpheus… I don’t believe that is quite true, mage or not, it is always good to know more. Especially with matters concerning magic. Knowing the differences could perhaps help one determine how best to solve problems concerning magic, or even identify signs that may appear with black magic usage. Sometimes, knowing can make all the difference in things. Please, do not presume that something is useless to you because you have yet to think of a use for it.” And somehow, without realising, her gaze shifts as she speaks, staring down at the sparkling gold of his irises.

It takes a while for him to speak, and Athanasia thinks he looks almost pleasantly surprised, were it not for the rapid change into his normal, genial smile that leaves her wondering if she’s hallucinating from years spent with the supernatural. 

“...Yes, you’re right, of course.” Ijekiel’s head subtly shifts to look beyond the marble pillars of the hallway. “There are things I feel thankful for now, even if I grew to despise them in the past.” He’s looking back at her, and Athanasia feels as if Ijekiel isn’t exactly talking about books and knowledge. Unexpectedly, she feels herself flush, red hot on her cheeks. His gaze always feels all too intense whenever she’s caught in it.

At this, his smile seems to grow a little more genuine, before he leaves with a light bow and a, “If I may excuse myself, Your Highness.” 

The faint scent of wildflowers follows him.

Athanasia thinks, staring at the place where he was, that it’s not the end of their meetings, mostly due to their respective statuses as future in-laws. Although as she looks at her Mother’s amused gaze, Athanasia hopes that by the next meeting, she could at least stop feeling so strangely flustered every time she meets Ijekiel.

-

Her mother shows her little reprieve after that encounter. As it turns out, Athanasia appears to have found a new muse to draw. Sitting beneath the old tree with Raven and her mother once more, Athanasia allows her mind to wander in content silence. Thus she pays little attention to the wildflowers unfurling next to her, nor the fact that Ijekiel’s features are starting to form upon the paper. 

Unfortunately for her, Diana—her mother—is a rather keen-eyed woman. And thus, her sparkling pink eyes zero onto the familiar handsome sketched features with a speed rivalling the Arlantan hawks. As she does so, her lips softly curl into a teasing grin at her new discovery.

“My, my, Athy, who’s this?” Leaning in, Diana peers at her daughter with that very grin, as Athanasai practically leapt out of her skin. Raven, deciding he’d rather be an observer rather than a participant, takes this time to move over to a warm patch in the field.

“Ma‒a! You nearly gave me a heart attack! Couldn’t you have warned me somehow before you decided to comment on my artwork?” Athanasia exasperatedly said, slowly calming down her racing heart.

“Weell, my darling daughter,” Diana begins to say, pinching at one of Athanasia’s cheeks, “I’m simply ever so curious as to this mysterious handsome individual you’ve started to draw. Who, by the way, looks ever so similar to one heir to House Alpheus.” Her cheshire grin grows ever wider as Athanasia slowly realises the implication, relishing the deep lobster red suffusing her pale complexion. 

“That’s a coincidence,” she explains tartly, wishing the ground would swallow her up whole, were it not that the lack of air would kill her. “Besides, it’s not a crush or anything of the sort that you’re implying, Mama.” Athanasia spits out the word ‘crush’ as if it were something diseased.

“I never said it was a crush.”

“That—! Well, you most certainly implied that I have a crush on Ijekiel!”

“Did I? I only wished to know who you were drawing, Athy,” Diana replies, looking like the cat who got both the cream and the canary. “But now that you mention it… Do you have a crush on him, Athy?”

“I do not have a crush.” Athanasia pouts, crossing her arms, “And Mother, you should remember that this is Jennette’s fiancé we are discussing. Any feeling of the amorous kind should not, and will not, exist.” Her voice is hard at that reminder. However, who was truly being reminded here?

At that, Diana’s expression softens into a sympathetic look. 

“Oh Athy, it’s perfectly alright and normal for you to get a crush at this age.” Diana places a comforting hand on Athanasia’s hunched shoulders, coaxing her daughter to look at her. “I know you care very much about Jennette, but you’re not betraying her or anything like that by getting a crush on her fiancé. Besides, you’re not acting on those feelings, and that’s all that really matters, Athy.” Her fingers gently comb through her daughter’s golden tresses.

It’s a nice, normal thing for her daughter to get a crush. 

She thinks, sadly, that Claude would have been a rather endearingly protective father.

-

Athanasia thinks they run into each other quite a lot, enough that she can no longer truly call it a continuing series of accidental encounters. It’s one too many times with too short breaks in between for her to call it such. At some point, she’s starting to wonder if “accidental” is intentional. But with both her desire to ignore most thoughts about fair-haired, handsome Ijekiel and to prove to her mother that this was most certainly not some crush on her sister’s betrothed, Athanasia kicks such thoughts into the abyss of her subconscious.

So obviously, the next time she carries a thick romance novel out of the library to read in the comfort of her room, Athanasia has to be nearly bowled over by Ijekiel as she rounds the corner back to the Ruby Palace.

She stumbles back in shock the moment they collide, thankfully managing not to trip over her feet. Ijekiel appears to be completely unphased, the only sign of collision being his slightly shifted clothing. Athanasia envies that calmness—just a bit.

Just seconds after their collision, Ijekiel smiles, moving to lightly bow towards her, his right hand clasped over his breast. 

“Your Highness, what a happy coincidence.” As he straightens up, Ijekiel’s eyes roam over the book Athanasia is perhaps not-so-subtly trying to obscure. “May I presume you were coming back from the library?”

“Y— Yes, Lord Alpheus. I was. And may I presume in return that you were on the way to meet Jennette? May I recommend that the next time you come visit her, you start from the left, instead of the right? It takes a longer time to get to the Emerald Palace if you go this way, Lord Alpheus.” Her fingers curl tighter around her novel, desperate to not let Ijekiel see the embossed blurb, lest he guesses the contents of it. (He need not know just how passionately the main couple express their feelings for each other, and he most definitely need not know in what specific manner they normally do so) 

Suddenly, it feels as if they are far too close for comfort.

(She can’t quite understand why she’s unwilling to let him know about this, wanting to keep the image of a refined, scholarly princess in his eyes)

He takes a step closer, and for a scant second, Athanasia’s breath catches in her throat. It’s still a perfectly acceptable distance, she mentally reassures herself. It’d do her no good to have her mind so scrambled by such a little thing as the decreased distance from her future in-law.

(Her very handsome, future brother-in-law, her mind supplies in a rather unhelpful fashion. Athanasia wonders if there was a spell to get your mind to shut up when it made unnecessary comments about other people.)

Smiling, Ijekiel makes the world stand still with just a few words. 

“Actually, Your Highness, I was looking for you.” 

“What?” It’s only by the grace of all those years spent holding back that allows Athanasia at least a semi-dignified response to his reply. She blinks and very nearly stutters on her next words. “You… You were looking for me?”

Suddenly he’s far, far too close, and Athanasia nearly leaps out of her skin with surprise, blooming red on her cheeks. Her arms loosen their death grip on her novel, allowing Ijekiel a clear view of her guilty pleasure. So unfortunately for Athanasia, within those few seconds of embarrassment for her, Ijekiel quickly sees what she’s not so subtly attempting to hide from him.

“Oh? That…” He smiles gently like always. But this time, there is a musical lilt to his tone, a subtle quirk to his lips. 

Much like a cat who caught the canary.

Athanasia does her very best to ignore both that damnable smile and the airy weight of her mother’s arms settling comfortably around her.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Lord Alpheus?” She knows her tone is just a tinge too sharp, too snappy in its execution.  Athanasia stoutly refuses to believe such reactions could be, in any way, related to her feelings towards the Alpheus heir. Just like how, right now, she is stoutly ignoring her dearly beloved mother’s giggles. 

Underlying those words is a challenge to him; daring him to say even a single unneeded and unwanted comment about her choice of literature. Her eyes narrow slightly as she stares up at him. Curse his older age and thus his taller height. It is much, much harder to channel an ice statue when one is forced to a lower vantage point.

“Oh, nothing, really.” Or so Ijekiel says, even when the corners of his mouth curve none too subtly, right in front of her. “It’s just…”

And really, some form of luck must be on his side today. Because at that very moment, a gust of wind has the audacity to simply blow past right behind her, allowing Ijekiel the perfect opportunity to further invade her space. Which he does, leaning in to gently tuck away locks of hair from her ear, giving unrestricted access for him to whisper, ever so softly…

“You enjoy such a charming spread of genres, Your Highness,” his breath tickles her ear, and Athanasia hopes to all the holy powers that be that Ijekiel won’t see the brick red she’s surely become. “I myself am also rather fond of reading. So perhaps you’d be able to give me a good recommendation that we might both enjoy together?” At that, Ijekiel leans back, and his golden gaze fixed on her face, waiting for her reply.

“I—” Athanasia’s first attempt at a response falls flat, leading to seconds of hanging silence before her mind formulates a proper answer. “I would be willing to compile a list for you.” Athanasia pauses, before hastily adding, “ And Jenette.” 

“Right.” Gone is the light tone previously in Ijekiel’s voice. Jenette’s name is a clear reminder to both of them.

Again, a silence casts its shadow over the two. But there was a reason why Ijekiel was so beloved by the upper crust’s women. A reason why Jenette was so clearly smitten with him.

“Perhaps we could read the book you have now together, Your Highness? Just to help you gain an early start in compiling that list, of course.”

Athanasia hopes to high heaven that this wasn’t the reason why he was so liked.

“Absolutely not!” Athanasia’s face is red with embarrassment, heat practically radiating off her cheeks. There was no way she was going to let Ijekiel Alpheus of all people know that the studious Second Princess of Obelia liked steamy romance novels. (Even if it was highly likely he already knew what exactly she was holding in her arms)

It’s clear that her sudden outburst of honesty surprises and amuses the Alpheus heir. Frankly, he isn’t doing much to conceal the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, nor the tug at his lips. At that, Athanasia’s lips twitch in displeasure. Why on earth she’d been so fascinated with him lately must’ve been due to the amount of work she’d been giving herself recently. (That was not to say she didn’t notice how that twinkle made the gold in his eyes shine like stars, enthralling in the way beauty always was)

“My, Your Highness, I’m surprised that someone with your work ethic would be so quick to turn down an offer to increase task efficiency.” He teases her, knowing full well why there was no way she would read this book with him.

Athanasia returns his tease with frosty politeness, hoping he’ll drop the matter and leave her alone to read in the sanctity of her room in peace. “I’m simply worried it would detract from time you should spend with Jennette, Lord Alpheus. Moreover, as both a girl and her sister, I’m quite sure a perfect list will still be made with only my input.”

(Her mother is no help at all, only watching and offering not a single piece of advice)

“Ah, but perhaps you have forgotten, Your Highness, that I have taken care of Jennette in the past. Would it not be more helpful to have my input to supplement yours?”

“That…”

“...Is it because of my presence?”

“No.” The blurted answer is quick enough that it shocks both of them. It’s honesty towards a question that should never be asked. Despite this, Athanasia continues to blush, eyes only pretending to look straight at Ijekiel. “...I simply think that you would not be interested in such reading material.” She later tacks on lamely.

But for some reason, it’s enough to gain a wondrous smile from him—In fact, Athanasia suspects he might just be beaming. Her heart beats uncomfortably in her chest.

“I see,” is all he says at first. “But Your Highness, I trust that whatever you read has its own value, whether it be for one purpose or another.” With that, he bows, ready to take his leave. “If you are not ready to show me such literature, I’ll at least help with the list for Jenette. So if I may, Your Highness, I’ll get on to that promptly.” Up he rises, and Athanasia can’t help but stare at his now retreating back.

What an immensely forward thing to say.

All of a sudden, not even ten paces away from her, Ijekiel stills. As he speaks, he does not face her. “And, just one more matter, Your Highness. If it’s not too presumptuous… Might I say that red is a lovely colour on you?”

But for Athanasia, it’s much more preferred this way. After all, who knows what expression he had whilst saying so? Nor did she desire for him to see that lovely colour on her again.

-

“Your Highness, I’ve recently read through Galera’s thesis on the nature of time. May we discuss it together?”

Ijekiel had almost certainly planned on this, seeing as there was no one near them for perhaps miles around, and also for the fact that they were conversing in a clearly abandoned garden that no one in their right mind would enter. 

It’s no matter if she’s caught off guard, as Athanasia has long since gotten used to reacting to unexpected variables on the spot. “Lord Alpheus, you must understand that I have yet to read that particular article. Furthermore, I do firmly believe that you would have a much more enlightening conversation with someone from the Black Tower.”

However, the sound of her mother snickering from behind is very much not helpful.

“But Your Highness, I find that I would much prefer conversing with you. You’ve shown to be capable of viewing a wide range of perspectives that I feel are quite uncommon.” At that, Athanasia involuntarily flushes, remembering their previous meeting. “It’s no matter if you haven’t read it yet, as I’ve also brought it with me. How about we go over it together?”

“I…” There is an expectant, honest wish in his eyes, and Athanasia can’t help but look away.

Her mother gently caresses her from behind, giving a silent nudge to accept his offer. “You’ll be family soon,” she whispers in her ear. “It’ll be good to get along when it happens… And above all else, Athy… It’s alright to savour moments of fleeting happiness.”

Fleeting. Right.

This time, she meets his eyes. 

“I don’t suppose you have anything for the next few hours?”

And his smile is as dazzling as the sun.

-

Jerk, was, perhaps, not a word Athanasia thought she’d ever use to refer to Ijekiel. But sometimes it feels as if he’s purposefully trying to ruffle her feathers.  There is simply something about the way this— this young lord reacts to her polished politeness, the way he engages with her, the way he pokes and prods (in a manner he possibly believes is subtle but is truly more like a slap to her face).

(For goodness sake, she’s not some beloved romance novel protagonist) 

It is hard to do so when the Alpheus heir keeps on challenging her like so.

(And they dance around and around, three steps forward and two steps back)

-

By their fourth and later meetings, Athanasia finds that many conversations with Ijekiel often slip into a subtle battle of knowledge, wisdom and wit between them. They talk around each other in circles, debating and discussing. They prod each other for opinions as politely and bluntly as can be (it was likely Ijekiel took at least some pleasure in watching her flounder—he’d already admitted it before). Sometimes though, it feels as if they’re speaking two entirely different conversations to each other. The only clue Athanasia has as to what Ijekiel does not say is exactly that: what he does not tell her explicitly.

More often than not, Jennette cannot get much of a foot within the proverbial door of their rapid-fire conversations. More often than not, Athanasia has to remember to pull back, to introduce topics that Jennette can give her opinion on. And she feels guilty, looking at how nervous Jennette is at giving opinions on things she can barely understand. Because Jennette’s fiancé is the only person remotely near her age that she could interact with on such a level, the only person around willing and able to interact with on such an academic level, Athanasia clings to him—to that connection to another being who might truly enjoy her company—through such conversations. She wills herself to ignore their countless other conversations that don’t involve an exchange of knowledge; pushes away the way he teaches her to dance in a pair; shuts out the times they sit together in comfortable silence, Raven as their feet and her mother humming by her side.

(Because for all she reads, all she understands and absorbs, her father hates the sound of her voice, hates the audible reminders of her existence. What Athanasia learns from those numerous, painfully awkward tea times is that Jennette is persistent in making them get along, and their father is persistent in pretending she does not exist—knowledge does not matter if no one wishes to appreciate it. The unread and discarded proposals Athanasia sends to him via a third party time and time again only serve to hammer in this unwanted truth.

And Ijekiel wanted more than her knowledge. Was it truly a wonder that she’d wish to stay with just him, if only for a few seconds more?)

She should not.

(Ijekiel is her sister’s beloved fiancé. Jennette is her beloved older sister, and she is the apple of their father’s eye.)

She does anyway.

As another prompting question about Archimedes V comes from Ijekiel yet again, Athanasia cannot help herself, allowing her to be swept away by the currents to another place—perhaps the edge of a waterfall.

(She’s not acting on her feelings if she’s answering his questions and thus engaging with, and subsequently bonding with her future brother-in-law… Right?

It’s not a question Athanasia truly wishes to answer.)

-

The next few years go by like the clouds drifting across the skies, and she and Ijekiel only become closer. Her mother gives no protest to any of it, even telling her that it is  “only a small bit of happiness, which wouldn’t hurt”. Within her embrace, cocooned in her warmth, Athanasia can find no argument against such a sentiment.

One day—a day she will consider a very long time ago—under the gentle shade of a tree, surrounded by nothing but wildflowers, Ijekiel confesses a secret to her and her alone.  

“Did you know, Princess, that when we truly first met, I thought you to be an angel?” Ijekiel smiles, looking up at the unclouded sky, away from her and her seeking eyes. “You should know that you’re very beautiful, Princess. It was almost inhumanely so, to me… Until I got to know you better, of course.” He chuckles, as if remembering a particularly humorous memory. “You became less like an angel—less of an idea in my head—and more like my friend, Athanasia. And yet, knowing you as you are now, I find myself preferring this tangible version of you, rather than the shallow idea I had before.” 

It feels as if it’s something she shouldn’t have known. Something that shouldn’t be said. And yet, she made no move to interrupt him at all.  

Ijekiel looks back at her now. As the sun’s rays bounce off his white hair, Athanasia privately thinks that, between the both of them, she is not the one with the angelic beauty. She watches, entranced, as his hand nears her own. 

His first touch is warm.

Slowly, he brings her hand to his lips, his golden eyes gazing at her behind lowered lashes as he does so. And just as Athanasia thinks he will kiss the air above her hand in greeting (but what for, she dares not continue that line of thought), he gently turns her hand to expose the insides of her pale wrists. 

“Athanasia… I’m truly glad you were born.”

And so there is where his lips ever so lightly press, a butterfly-like kiss. 

It’s a golden memory that Athanasia would take to her grave. Even if she immediately yanks her hand away, watching as the sun’s rays disappear. Watching the understanding dawn upon his face.

(Ah, she’s already flown too close to the sun)

-

Not too long after that incident, Ijekiel gifts her a blue songbird—a bluebird, to be more specific.

“Consider it a symbol of our friendship,” he says. Nothing about his expressions betrays anything, save for the way he doesn’t meet her eyes, the way his smile is so picturesque. But their roles have been set, their paths already paved, and there’s no other direction but forward. 

So Athanasia gives a fairytale-like smile in return, and focuses only on the merits of his gift.  

It’s a pretty bluebird, and she’s sure Raven will love it too. Her mother is already cooing in her ear about how cute it is, and how generous it is for Ijekiel to give such a gift. Athanasia never told her what happened on that sunny day. And she never will.

“He must treasure your friendship very much, Athy. And, oh my, don’t you think the bluebird looks a little like him? Maybe it’ll stop you from sulking every time you can’t immediately discuss a book with him.”

Athanasia ignores her comments in favour of concentrating on Ijekiel.

“Thank you,” she says in turn, smiling, “I’ll take good care of…”

“It’s a boy.”

“Him. I’ll take good care of him.”

They both watch the little bluebird hop around, gazing at its new surroundings with curiosity. 

“Do you already have a name for him?”

“Not really, I was thinking that it’d be better to give you the honour of doing so,” Ijekiel replies, before cheekily adding, “Even with your dubious naming skills.”

Athanasia’s cheeks colour, before she hastily gets out, “My naming skills are not dubious. The names I give are perfectly suited and reasonable.”

“Hahaha, alright alright, I concede—what are you going to name him then?”

“Well,” and at that, Athanasia places her hands firmly on her hips, “I was thinking of Bluey. It’s a name that suits his colouration, and it’s also a very cute name.” 

“Alright, Bluey it is then.”

“Hey, what kind of answer was that?” But they’re both grinning, and they both know that Ijekiel won’t legitimately protest against the name, no matter how much of an “opinion” he has about her naming skills. 

Athanasia hopes that he’ll treasure this memory as much as she does, forevermore.

-

On a day like any other, Athanasia opens the doors to her room to find her beloved Bluey dead in his cage. His feathers lie scattered in a bloody mess, and it’s clear that this was someone’s handiwork. Even so, it doesn’t feel real. Any moment now, Bluey will hop around and chirp and sing, delighted to see her again.

Athanasia cradles him with shaking hands, making no move to stop Raven from sniffing around the crime scene. There's a gasp from behind. Mother? 

“Oh, Athy…” When a warm, heavy weight meets her shoulder, Athanasia knows that it's someone else.

Lily.

“How could anyone do this?” She laments, voicing out unsaid thoughts. “This isn't right. I must go see the Emperor. He should do something about this.” At that, Lily rises to storm out the door, only to be caught by the skirts with a single hand.

“No.” Athanasia’s tone is firm, resolute. “He won't— He doesn't need to be bothered by such small issues.” The words are like razors in her mouth. “I’ll solve this issue myself.”

“But Athy—”

“No.” A princess’ words are final. “But,” and here is where her voice softens, weakens, “could you stay by my side tonight?”

“Of course.” Lily’s hands are gentle on her hair, but still, Athanasia can't bring herself to look at her. “You didn't even need to ask. I’ve promised you before that I’ll always be by your side, Athy.”

-

At night, soothed to sleep by her nanny’s lullaby, and her mother's smell of roses, Athanasia dreams. She dreams of the flowers she’d made, dreams of how vegetation would translate to flesh, blood and bone. She dreams of sinew, muscle and thread. She dreams of a pulsating heart in her hands, too big to be useful for now, but that is what magic is for—to make the impossible become possible.

She dreams of her mother, unconditionally forgiving.

( Everything will be alright, Athy. You don't have to do it alone. Just leave it to Mama, ok? )

She dreams of a world, where all wrongs are made right.

-

When she wakes, it’s as if she’s been possessed. With a firm stride, she moves to crack open the book that started it all. With a loud thump, it lies open on a new number, page one-thousand-twenty. It’s a page Athanasia has never seen before. But written across its pages is exactly the guidance she needs. Her fingers run through the crimson-streaked pages, feeling the bone-like indents of the letters. Perhaps it’s simply her imagination, but Athanasia likes to think that, at that moment, she’d also felt a pulse. 

The smell of decay hangs in the air. Against Lily’s protests, she’d placed Bluey back into his cage instead of disturbing him any further. 

If she could conjure new life, then surely, Athanasia could also bring back the old? Her eyes scan the procedures, the needed ingredients to channel intent out of precaution. A nail drags across the paper, and she mentally takes note of every single detail. 

“Did you find something interesting, Athy?” Her mother’s arms curl around her neck, heavy as a noose. 

“Yes.” She replies, turning to gaze at her slumbering bluebird. “I think I’ll need some thread, Mama.”

-

Perhaps it’s a trick of her mind, but Athanasia feels as if there are fewer staff members in the Ruby Palace, as barebones are the structure of the staff here already. But since she relies mostly on herself and Lily, Athanasia doesn’t pay too much mind to it. 

There are other more important matters to turn to, such as Bluey’s recovery. He still needs the stitches, or else he’d fall back asleep within a blink of an eye. 

She strokes his soft feathery head, before the crash of breaking plates forces her attention elsewhere. Her hand stills. A lone maid stares at them, eyes wide, mouth slack. Honestly, it’s a confusing reaction to have. Furthermore, didn’t she know that such loud noises could disturb Bluey’s recovery? 

“Hey,” the informality tastes foreign, but welcome. “Come here.”

The impertinent maid doesn’t move.

“Come here. That’s an order.”

Hesitant, and awkward. Her etiquette lessons come to mind—a princess should not have to speak the same order twice. The chair screeches from the force of her pushing back, and in one, two, three and four strides, she’s caught that shaking arm and dragged the maid into her room.

The doors shut and lock with a finality. 

[branzinos]

What’s your opinion on the new episodes?

rusty, but that was by their own admission in the entertainment round table. the pacing felt weird and charas felt oc because they were trying to set up a bunch of stuff at the expense of real character moments. Abbott has had a bit of a pacing problem since S2 - see how the legendary school stuff felt like it was leading to something big, and then was resolved in a single episode that wasn't even the finale - and already struggles with giving the full ensemble something to do - Barb and Jacob in particular felt really overlooked this ep - so I'm not sure why they needed to add THREE new recurrings unless its to fill out scenes that are Janine away from Abbott later in the season, because already two of those new charas feel superfluous. they were just standing there echoing lol. I also feel like they were so busy setting up bowling pins that there weren't a lot of jokes which also made it feel more sluggish than normal, but I'm hopeful that returning back to 22min will mean the next episodes are sharper. at the roundtable the cast unanimosuly said the library episode in the middle of the season was one their favourite to film so that bodes well.

the Ava side plot would have been fine as a one episode gag but in this two parter felt like a bit of a waste of time because it disappeared halfway through - though the dancing was funny. not sure how much I like the dismissal of her getting back into education though, it cheapens the growth the had in the previous season.

like everyone else I'm extremely relieved they broke up Melissa and Gary because they simply never set that up for us to have any positive connection with him, half the mentions of him off screen were about him being dismissive of Melissa, so I'm glad they let her set a boundary and keep it, it was a nice tie in to her relationship with Joe and gave her a bit more depth. like I don't care if they pair her up with someone, I'm not one of those people who is anti her dating a guy over a woman, but it at least needs to be someone in her own fucking league and that the story actually makes us hear about what a good partner they are (or a shit partner as long as the plot ESTABLISHES they are shit instead of trying to make us like someone who has given us no reason to). even if it's just off screen mentions like Gerald with Barbara - give us a reason to be invested in the relationship if you're gonna attempt an engagement scene, guys.

the way they're handling Janine and Gregory still seems right, it's season 3 of a planned 7 season show and it would be way too early to establish them as a steady couple, thematically that's the payoff near the end of the series like every other sitcom. it made sense that they're still approaching each other like nervous deer after the way Franklin Institute went, they're both still tender about it because it's still unresolved and they were both very vulnerable. they're still figuring things out and like Sheryl repeatedly says, they both need some therapy lol. they're very clearly endgame but it still needs more time and work for the payoff to feel earned and the show isn't at that point in the story yet.

anyway that new guy is Hans Frozen from Shein