#it was bird to get any romance for them without straying from their personality

[bucca2]

Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

[fairestmusesofthemall]

Respond to the following prompts out of character, then tag others you'd like to get to know a little bit better.

K...! :D Roleplayer Name: Fiery. Or Jamie. Some friends in high school used to call me Cheese. Also Queso. You have FOUR choices there.

Pronouns: I refer to myself as she/her but I'll respond to any pronouns so don't worry if you go "Oh god what's Fiery's pronouns again?" Yeah you're fine.

Muse Name(s): Okay so let's start with the solo blogs. We got Doc at @leaderintitleonly, we got the Blue Fairy at @wxshxngstxr, we got (sadly inactive rn) Ursula at @saintlyseavvitch, and soon to pop out of seasonal isolation @mrtxnbxlcw with Snow Miser. Characters on this blog right here? Well buckle up, buckaroo! I have mostly Disney muses! I play Charlotte La Bouff. That's Lottie to her friends. I play Pinocchio. I play Pleakley. I play Sneezy. I play Yzma. I play Merryweather. I play Judge Doom. I also sometimes very rarely, but by request, do play Snow White. I have some muses from video games! I have the one, the only, Rambley the Raccoon and he likes trains. I have Miles Edgeworth and he has the updated autopsy report. I have Ashe from a very niche game called Witch's Heart and he's a LITTLE stabby. I have Leshy from Inscryption and yeah I have to specify because there's a lot of Leshy (Leshies? Leshys?) running around from a lot of different games these days. I also play very rarely but please do ask, King of All Cosmos from Katamari Damacy. And then there's my other canon muses which don't fit into anything else. That's Big Bird and Sassapis. I've also got OCs. Ehhh. Need to know basis.

Preferred Communication: DMs. Chat. I am...very slow. I am usually dealing with my symptoms so don't think that me disappearing has anything to do with you. I'm just VERY sick and usually dealing with some kind of drama at the same time. I do give out my Discord but... Listen. I got stalked. As a child. I don't really give out personal ways to contact me unless you ask so I can limit that info going out.

Experience: Oooh through AIM and Neopets. And GaiaOnline. Shout out to that one Snow White rp where we had the Doc-character just collecting stray orphans. I was Dopey in that one. :)

Preferred Roleplay Type: Everything. Give me everything. I like crack and sniping at each other but I equally love whump, romance, and just everything. And plotted events are fun, too.

Pet Peeves/Dealbreakers: I had about three paragraphs here but the tl;dr is don't be weird about villains. Please don't be weird. It's so uncomfortable. It puts me off from writing villains. I will put them all away and hide them forever because people get so weird about them. I just wanna do bad things and have complex feelings. And you know, not be told really weird stuff.

Best Time to Write: It's evening but hey, sometimes I wake up early and you'll see me on. So don't set a clock around me if you're trying to catch me.

Are you like your muse?: Too many muses to think about here and if I'm like them. I can be very nice and sweet but then I go to rabid, screaming Jersey accent in five seconds. Just ask my fiancé. So uh no, not so far. I guess I'll have to run a poll on which character I'm most like at some point. But if we franken character a bit from everyone, I'd say yes. Also if only I was able to be that good of a DM like Leshy. Without the camera thing, booooo you don't make friends that way.

Tagged by: @lcafman (GOSH ELLIE YOU CAN'T JUST TAG PEOPLE /bad mean girls joke doesn't work did it anyway) Tagging: Everyone's...been tagged. At least that I've been able to see since I've been sick and inactive. So um. I'm tagging you, person who reads this. You do it. And tag me back. :D

[jvsons]

“CARDINAL” IN CRIME

Jason Todd x vigilante! reader

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS • very vague descriptions of non consensual touch (not Jason)

CATEGORY • mostly romance buildup and a little comedy

SUMMARY •

All in an evening of a pesky cardinal chasing a hawk with eyes focused on a target.

AN • this is a gender neutral fic but be warned that the reader is wearing a dress, just in case that makes you uncomfortable

Amidst the milky lights casting the ballroom a soft glow, your eyes surveyed the mass of guests below. Hoards of feather-adorned outfits mingled around the vast room, only allowing you to pick up the fact that a majority of the people were dressed as eagles, fitting the theme of birds with a little less creativity than you liked. Ironically enough, you were dressed as a hawk, sticking to a long chestnut dress with feathers of your own threaded in your hair.

Your eyes narrowed in anticipation upon spotting the host of the event, clad in a flashy blue suit and practically setting himself up for you. A small tip from GCPD told you that this man was going to host a massive drug deal after hours, using the party and his evening time to lure rich residents in and convince them to buy from his corrupt business. Your task was to lead him outside as passively possible and put your slimmed-down utility belt to use, taking the head of the business down without alerting any of the henchmen.

You were just about to hop over the railings when the fraction of a yell rang out to your side, soon muffled and sending a knife sliding to the ground right before you. One of the head’s mobsters looked to be apprehended as he ran up to you and grabbed the knife, taking a swing and leaving you no choice but to gag him with his own tie and knock him out.

“You here to stop Mr. Jaybird too? Or are you just suspiciously good at defending yourself?”

Looking up, the lights fixed on a man dressed up in a crimson suit, adorned with a black tie and a mix of both colors resting over his face on masquerade covering.

“That depends on who you are.” You chose your words carefully, adjusting so your hands rested over your hidden utility belt. Amusement poked at the stranger’s face as his lips curved up, only leading to him discarding the mask with a whistle. Sticking blue eyes met yours, only partially visible due to the stray strands of raven hair dusting them.

“I’m on your side as long as you’re planning to bring this piece of shit down.”

“Huh.” You nodded, glancing down at the mobster before picking him up, opening the nearest door in the hallway, and throwing him into it. “What’s your game plan, Cardinal?”

“Depends on how you’re trying to do this, Hawk.” His reply was smooth, gaze flickering to you as he rested upon the railing. “He’s still down there, and I bet you could lure him in with no problem.”

You clicked your tongue at his remark, placing your hands on the smooth marble overlooking the area.

“The plan was to take him without any witnesses,” You started, attempting to form a new plan in your head while scanning the crowd. “How many guys did you take?”

“That’s a hard question, I don’t really keep count.” He smiled nonchalantly, aware that he was annoying you already. “Let’s set the bar at 10 guys.”

Hearing footsteps, you disregarded the conversation and glanced to the side, spotting a group of armed men about to turn the corner.

“Doesn’t matter now, they’re about to find a body.” You said, carefully hopping over the railing and dropping to perch on the pole under it. “We need to distract him or else this will get messy.”

“Right.”

The two of you were silent in your descent, joining the crowd hosted by the main man with no problem. Nothing that every person around you was coupled with another, you brushed over your cardinal’s hand. He got the message, not failing to send you a teasing smirk as his hand snaked around your waist, keeping you formally at his side as you approached the target.

A little shimmying later and you were right next to him, leading you to free yourself and raise the man’s attention with a polite clear of your throat.

“Hello, Mr. Jay.” Your smile was sickeningly fake, although working instantly as the man’s eyes lit up. “I’m an ambassador of Mr. Wayne’s enterprise, and I was hoping to speak with you in private about an arrangement we’d like to make with your business.”

“In private?” He mumbled, excitement pooling through his features as he took your hand. “Of course, my dear.”

You turned around as you began to be dragged away, only meeting the faces of couples and missing the one you were looking for. The concern was shed away as you felt eyes examining your body, fighting to rip his hand off of yours and knock him out cold in for everyone to see. However, you stuck it out until you were outside, comforted by the arrival of rain as it numbed the warm feeling of his grip of your skin.

“Now that we’re alone, I’d like to propose you an offer first.” His voice was laced with arousal as one of his hands dipped to trace over your leg, building up your disgust further with each inch he went up.

“How about you get a little respect and learn about consent?”

You sighed in relief as his hands were pulled off of you, taken by the back and shoved up against the wall by your partner.

“Who the Hell are you?” The man barked, struggling but unable to budge.

“To you, a man who knows how to treat women right.”

He scowled down at him before raising his fist, rousing a feeble plea from the criminal before rendering him unconscious with a single punch. Turning around, he adjusted his tie while the mass of blue slid to the ground harshly, extending a hand to you with a smile.

“But to you, it’s Jason.”

“Y/n.”

You couldn’t keep a smile from creeping up on your features as Jason spun you around, tilting you down before placing a phone in your open hand.

“I think you deserve to call this bastard in after that.”

He paused, looking up and humming before narrowing his eyes teasingly at you.

“And you deserve my number, let’s hurry up and get the cops here.”

[a03bkdk]

fantasy bkdk fic rec list

a certain kind of magic by eatdirt

((4590-1/1))

“Forgive me, kind witch! I—I do not wish to disturb you, but I’m afraid it's urgent!"

Katsuki will later blame his bewilderment that anyone—let alone a human boy in filthy rags—would drag themselves all the way out to his home on the outskirts of civilization, for why he stalks down the stairs and cracks open the door.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” he growls.

Or, the one where Katsuki is a witch in a weed-infested swamp and Deku won’t stop coming around.

the shrinekeeper and the harvest god by bkdkwritingsdump

((smut-30148-18/18))

Izuku keeps the shrine of the harvest god, a minor god mostly worshiped by farmers and ignored by everyone else until the yearly harvest festival. During a spring thunderstorm one year, a mysterious man named Katsuki shows up at his shrine seeking shelter from the rain, but ends up over staying his welcome by a few months. In that time, Izuku not only begins to become suspicious of his identity, but finds himself longing for something more between them.

cupid, draw back your bow by almasaga

((i dont remember if there is smut-16496-2/2))

Cupid remembers the oath he took, remembers the broken arrow, remembers the wrath of his mother and goddess, remembers his roots, remembers that he is a god.

But when he hears him he forgets it all.

“Are you there still?” Asks a voice, clear and never wrong. The only voice he wishes to hear.

“Always,” he says and it blows through his beloved.

solar by kindaopps

((smut-7037-1/1))

Here he is, a god, wanting a mortal.

deku by mirachadoodles

((smut-20852-9/9))

Neither seemed willing to look away in the tense silence that fell, drawn to one another as if by a thick and brilliant thread.

The boy viewed him thoughtfully, as though he recognized him from another life, as though he knew him.

It was odd—he felt the same way.

---

Or, shortly after Katsuki's dragon went missing, a naked man attempted to break into his family barn. Izuku had no memory of his past life, and apparently had no idea how to be human, either. He was just acting on instinct.

a cat named deku by  silentsongbird

((6662-1/1))

Bakugou begrudgingly takes in a stray cat that has been hanging around his home. He says he's motivated by the weather turning colder, but he just can't resist the little fur ball. One night, Deku decides to let him in on a little secret.

if the stars align, then for us they were meant by runawaydeviant

((smut-17485-6/6))

Katsuki and Eijirou crash land in a forest to the south of their homeland. Injured and stranded, they befriend a local nature spirit, who is much more than he first appears to be.

soulmates in steel and (p 2)mine is yours by lalazee

((3000-1/1)) (p 2(smut-2509-1/1))

Midoriya Izuku returns to a tribe long lost and forgotten to claim his rightful throne. At least, that's what King Katsuki assumes of him.

(p 2) One large, calloused hand spread sparks down Izuku’s chest, ribs, rested at his lightly bruised hip. Izuku knew fingerprints still remained from last time, and the last, and the time after that. He felt more like a dappled deer now, all those spots smattered across his thighs, ass, hips, wrists. King Katsuki was certainly a man who marked his territory.

but the entrails are the best part! by supercrunch

((15278-1/1))

The boy straightens up. He’s about half a head shorter than Katsuki, face soft and youthful and sweet. He turns to look at him properly. His dark hair shines in the dying light, basket of blooms looped over one arm and mouth quirked into a tiny half-smile. The sun hits his face and makes his eyes a bright greeny-gold, just like emeralds.

Katsuki likes emeralds.

“Pretty,” he says, reaching out and picking the stranger up around the middle. He’s surprisingly heavy, although Katsuki doesn’t mind. “I like you. Come see my nest.”

The boy hits him.

He’s stronger than he looks, turns out. Katsuki drops him and falls onto his back, pain blooming across his face. Birds sing. The sky’s a lovely shade of orange, clouds floating lazily by. The boy scarpers. He leaves his basket of flowers behind, footsteps thumping on the ground and fading away as he escapes.

The sun sets. Katsuki, lying flat on his back with a bloody nose, decides he’s just fallen in love.

happenstance by merrywetherweather

((78566-22/22))

When Katsuki was just a child, his mother, the King of Lucia, took him to enact diplomacy with the Midoriya's, the royal family of the neighboring country of Tayloria. After that day, his fate was sealed, his marriage arranged to the Midoriya's elusive omegan child.

At the age of twenty, he leaves for Tayloria again, this time, to finally wed his fiance and cement the allyship of the two kingdoms indefinitely. Only, his fiance turns out to be the child he had met on his very first visit, a naive, idealistic young prince who wants nothing to do with marrying the prince of Lucia.

Good thing he just assumed Katsuki was only part of his fiance's entourage.

An arranged marriage between two princes aob au where Katsuki tries to abide by Izuku's desire for a natural romance to develop without letting Izuku know his true identity.

plums by Ivillpunchyouinthethroat

((14116-3/3))

There’s a boy stealing plums from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

Correction.

There’s a boy stealing plums, very badly, from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

mermaid AU breathe In by contrarybee

((series-smut-3 works-45236 in all))

Midoryia Izuku was born in captivity. He's never known the ocean.

His human carer Yagi-san tells him they're getting a new merman in the aquarium, one that they hope Izuku might like. Having been alone since his mother's death, Izuku is beyond excited to have a new mer around, but Bakugo Katsuki might prove to be too much. Or maybe he's just right.

fishy by warschach

((smut-19417-1/1))

Izuku’s convinced his hot co-worker/neighbor, Katsuki, is a mermaid-or merman- you gotta consider genders even with mythical creatures- and plans to prove it.

(or this is kinda like the show ‘Monster Quest’, except Izuku actually finds said monster, falls in love, and have sexy times.)

home is where the waves crash. by tiredwrites

((4105-1/1))

Izuku thrashes in his cage, the fins that line his large tail flare with a dangerous purpose. The claws his fingers taper into slice through the water and catch the light that filters into the clear water of the aquarium tank he's in.

His gills flare in irritation as he flips around, muscled tail ramming into the three-inch glass barrier with a thundering BAM!

Bioluminescent sacs under clear scales flare and glow, flashing a brilliant toxic green. The team that had brought the merman into the tank watch the mer flail and roar, flexing the powerful jaws that can often unhinge, like a snake.

only the roses know by katyastark

((13193-5/5))

Izuku didn’t want to marry a foreigner. The person he wanted was here… somewhere. He didn’t have a face or a name to ascribe to his admirer. Only roses. For every name day and holiday since he was thirteen, he had received a perfect orange rose. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. The roses never failed to make him feel doted upon. It was their secret, and Izuku cherished it more than anything else in the world. He didn’t want to give that up for some stranger, for an alliance through a loveless marriage.

torn fur, blunt teeth by scribespirare

((smut-43013-17/17))

After eight months of being collared, Izuku is finally free. But a dark, stormy city is no place for a lonely shapeshifter on the run.

ignorance leads to bliss by nikawithspice

((smut-3941-1/1))

A brave wandering adventurer swoops in and saves a beautiful prince from danger, gets dragged to a celebratory bonfire and has a night that he could only have dreamed of!

Or, the one in which Midoriya Izuku accidentally gets married to a Dragon Prince but wouldn't have it any other way.

[thunderheadfred]

🐈‍Aizawa HC’s🐈‍

I dunno if people will care for this; I suspect my HC's for Aizawa are a little off the fandom norm. Still. I tried. Things get approximately NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He has like, one discernible change of clothes per season. There is no distinction between hero outfit, casual wear, and pajamas. That fabric used to be black. It is now an exhausted shade of ‘please stop washing me.’ If you suggest that he buy new clothes, he will stare you down like you have three heads, and none of those heads have a brain.

This man does not spend money. He has a mind-blowing amount of savings, but no one will ever know until he dies and wills it all to a random animal shelter in the middle of nowhere. Has a secret scholarship fund for UA students. Again, this is completely anonymous. Only the principal knows.

He's a startlingly competent sketch artist. Nothing fancy, and he never took an art class in his life, but his quirk innately lends itself to spacial reasoning and feature recognition. He has sketch books brimming with sloppy but pin-point accurate life drawings. He can capture your soul in three strokes of a dried-up ballpoint pen. It's eerie.

Given his schedule, you’d expect him to prioritze convenience first, but junk food makes him cross-eyed. His body is a temple and he eats like a fucking monk.

He’s a wine snob. Well, a liquor snob generally. He knows the name of every regional sake-maker in Japan, and can tell you exactly which bottle is the best, down the the month of production. Assumes everyone possesses such laser-focused knowledge.

Tea drinker. Yeah, he has encyclopedic knowledge about that too. Apparently everything this man drinks comes with a bibliography.

Technically he’s supposed to live in the UA dorms part of the time. He sleeps poorly there, and goes home whenever he has the opportunity.

His house is old, but not valuable. Probably inherited. Traditional style with very few modern updates. He keeps it meticulously clean and does repairs as needed, but the age is still obvious. Everything creaks. You swear the place is haunted but won’t dare admit it aloud - he WILL laugh you out of the house.

There’s a garden but he doesn’t have time to keep it up. He has a lot of memories of the plants in full bloom. Letting it go to seed upsets him more than he lets on.

He has zero personal possessions aside from household appliances, which he meticulously researches and keeps in perfect condition.

Reads an insane amount of books. These mostly come from the library. There’s always a stack near his bed. You have no idea how he finishes them, because every time you see him with a book, he’s asleep with it on his face.

He doesn’t adopt cats so much as just leaves his doors open and lets them freely colonize the place. It’s not his house, it’s theirs. Somehow there's not a single cat hair on anything.

Most of these cats are cuddly little angels; you've never met nicer. But there’s a few beasts in the mix, with battle scars and three legs and a craving for human meat; these are Aizawa’s special favorites.

- - - - -

Dating

Falls for you when he stumbles across you taking care of one of the hideous strays he usually feeds on his route. Doesn’t approach you at first (definitely tries to hide) but the cat is like "mrrr?" and brings you over to him, giving the game away. Traitor.

Will make you pay for your half of everything, down to the last yen. So what if you’ve been together for ten years? You have your own income.

One exception to the above: he’ll never buy you presents but he WILL treat you to lavish meals in dark restaurants with hand-written menus. Don’t mistake this for romance, he just likes the quiet atmosphere and excellent service.

He cleans every day; there’s an unwritten five-dimensional schedule and that schedule is EXACT. Zero time wasted. He’ll never actually ask you to help with any of it. He’ll never directly thank you, either. But if you learn how to take over certain chores and do the daily upkeep while he’s away, he’ll love you forever.

Not the type to talk about his day; he’d rather sit with you outside. He values silence. Not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, but a lot of the time he doesn’t have the energy to give you his full conversational attention. Physical contact is easier, and more comforting besides. Just... hold his hand a while.

His scalp gets tingly and sore from overusing his quirk. If you run your fingers through his hair he will pass out instantly.

He will cozy trap you. He’s touch-starved and was definitely a cat in a past life. Will hang all over you if you don't give him enough attention and constantly falls sleep in your lap. Hope you don’t need to get up anytime soon; he’s not moving.

You don’t exactly ‘move in’ with him. He never wants to spend a night without you, but his living space is already exactly how he likes it. He will never move out of that old house, but he’ll give you some rooms to yourself. Your stuff and his... complete absence of stuff... stay pretty much separate. Do NOT clutter up the bedroom.

The kitchen is the exception. That's a warm and cozy shared spot, the heart of the home. You’ll always be stepping around a cat.

He LOVES when you cook for him (so that he doesn't have to take the time). Will shower you with praise and encourage you to make huge earthenware vats of old-timey tsukemono that the two of you cannot possibly eat by yourselves. He’ll help with food prep and knows his way around, but he insists you’re the better cook (even if you aren’t).

Big on actions over words. Makes an effort to be present with you as much as he can.

Will stare into your eyes until you look away. When you look back, he's still staring with a rare warm smile on his face.

God, he loves you. You will never, ever know how much. He doesn't tell you often, but he shows you every day.

- - - - -

Somnophilia???.........

ACE ACE ACE ACE

This man is A-fucking-sexual. He’s not sex repulsed in any way, he’s just not personally invested.

Aromantic too. Deadass doesn’t get the hype. You are the most important person in his life and he’s deeply commited to and comforted by you. Just don’t expect to be seduced; it will literally never happen.

If you are allosexual, he will still be devoted to your sexual well-being. At first, that means buying you a DELUXE toy and encouraging you to use it on your own.

His voice is too damn sexy, even when he isn’t trying. He’ll give you all the phone sex you want; he thinks it’s sweet how you unravel for him. Edging you for ages is a fun little power play, but he’s definitely grading papers while he does it. Don’t be offended. Toshinori has overheard some THINGS.

When your relationship gets sufficiently serious, he’ll help out with his hands. He’s VERY SKILLED AT IT. He likes to lay down next to you and whisper encouragement in your ear. Eventually he gets possessive about your orgasms, and will make you ask for permission.

Sometimes the stars align, but his arousal is a rare bird. He'll take a whole afternoon to prepare. It’s love-making, full stop. Always slow and intensely emotional. He'll cherish every inch of you but might not cum at all; you can’t force it.

[sparklingchan]

Chapter 3|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 3.3k+

Warnings : A fight scene but it’s just practice XD

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: An unexpected incident brings you closer to Felix, but there’s one person who’s not very excited about this blossoming friendship. 

A/N : Things start getting interesting from here *insert the moon face emoji* Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

"A near miss, y/n."  Felix whispers in his deep, raspy voice sending shivers  through your entire body.

You blink awkwardly at him for a few seconds before he gets off of you and offers you his hand to help you stand up.

You hear the Aphrodite girls whispering behind you, giggling.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Your eyes are looking everywhere but at Felix, the heat from your cheeks making your whole face warm.

"It's alright, " he chuckles, "Are you hurt anywhere?" His freckles look even more gorgeous up close, his toothy smiles reminds you of bright skies and beaches and picnics and fresh fruits. And when the warm afternoon sunlight falls on his eyes, his brown orbs turn into a gentler shade of golden. Breathtaking.

"You're beautiful." You blurt out, involuntarily,  loud and clear so everyone hears you. A loud chorus of gasps run throughout the dining hall.

And you decide to run away back to your cabin with the little dignity you had left of yourself.

And there you are, once again thinking back to yesterday's events while polishing your precious arrow heads as you sit on the Zeus cabin's verandah.

You sigh, "It was the Aphrodite effect, right? It has to be!"

You've been pep talking to yourself all morning long, making up excuses for the way you behaved yesterday. You're too embarrassed to face your friends or the other people at camp.

"I mean he is good looking, but why did I say it out loud. Does he have powers? Like that of Hyunjin? Maybe he can charmspeak. Yes! That's probably it!" You mutter to yourself.

(a/n: Charmspeak is a rare type of hypnotic ability that Aphrodite kids possess)

Or perhaps he'd induced a new sense of adoration in you, like how Aphrodite kids usually can. But then again, they cannot actually induce these feelings. They can only manipulate them which means they'd have to exist in the first place.

You put the arrow back into it's case.

"Ugh!" You let out a loud groan, covering your face with your palms.

The image that you'd spent years to portray in front of everyone is all destroyed in the blink of an eye. Now no one's going to respect you as an only child of the Big Three, they're going to see you as a girl who gets smitten easily and not as the headstrong person you always acted like.

All because of that Lee Felix!

(a/n: big three refers to the three major Greek gods namely Poseidon, Zeus and Hades)

You stand up from the floor, not being able to handle the bombardment of thoughts in your mind, and decide that practicing sword fighting is the right thing to now.

So you find yourself making your way from behind the Athena cabin (where you can clearly hear Seungmin and another Athena kid debating over mortal politics) and then through the Jasmine fields that Apollo personally tends to and down the hill to the weapon practice arena.

"Hey, y/n."

Oh no, no no no.

Why is it that when you are trying to avoid a person that exact person is the one who keeps popping up everywhere? Why is it, you tell me, that Lee Felix happens to be in the practice arena just when you arrive there?

The Gods must be having a nice laughter up there, especially your father Zeus.

"H-hey!" You try to reply with fake enthusiasm.

He has his bronze sword in his right hand while he jogs up to you, his messy blonde hair shining like the sun.

"Did you sleep well?"

No, you hadn't.

"Yes, I did." You laugh awkwardly, "Slept wonderfully."

Felix laughs back, eyes hooded with a hint of shyness that hadn't existed till yesterday afternoon.

He tucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, "Hey, um about what you said yesterday-"

"Do you wanna duel with me?"

If you cannot escape him, you might as well divert his attention.

He looks at you like you'd just punched him in the face. His smile threatening to disappear any moment.

And that’s when you realise asking him to duel with you might not have been the brightest ideas, and not to mention how you'd called him beautiful in front a hundred other demigods last afternoon.

"I'd love to!" He replies, with an excited voice, "Swords?"

You open your mouth to reply, but only air slips out so you subtly nod. He doesn't have to know you're a nervous mess that's lowkey about to pass out.

You walk up to the armory and grab the first sword that you lay eyes on. Truth be told, a sword wasn't really the best choice of weapon for you. It's always been a bow and arrow for you. Bows make you feel at control, like you know what you're doing and you'd always been good at archery, without even trying to.

"Do you not have a sword of your own?" Felix asks almost as if reading your mind.

"No, I don't. Actually I'm more of an archer." You admit.

"Ah, of course. I remember how you killed that Cetus in a single shot. I must say, I was very impressed."

Your cheeks heat up at his compliment. It's not like people haven't complimented your archery skills before - they have, in fact they do it all the time yet you wonder why is it so much more meaningful to you when coming from Felix. Has your biggest fear finally come true?

You shake your head mentally, no, it cannot be.

"Thanks. You're not very bad with your sword either."

Felix acknowledges your compliment with a smile. He then stands up straight, the sword in his right and bows gently, a silly smile playing at his lips.

"Oh we're following the courtesies?" You whisper to yourself, copying his actions.

The both of you stand facing each other, a silent understanding flowing between the two of you while you take your dueling positions.

You expect him to attack first but he doesn't; instead he watches you with a smirk, as if trying to make you flustered.

(It was working but you'd rather never say that out loud)

So he attacks first. He aims his sword near your abdomen but you quickly jump to defend yourself, blocking his attack with your sword. The metallic clang of your swords ringing throughout the otherwise quiet arena. He stumbles back, a surprised gasp leaving his lips as your sword brushes swiftly past his neck while he's still catching his breath, barely touching him though. 

Of course, hurting the opponent isn’t the aim here. Disarming them is.

"She's not bad with the sword." He thinks to himself, a little proud.

He then retorts back, swinging his sword right in front of your face, missing by merely an inch.

Your heart does a backflip, both out of excitement and fear.

You don't waste a second, gaining back your balance, thrusting your sword in the space between his arm and abdomen. Your sword clash together as you try to push his sword back with yours, yet this time he resists, putting in all his energy to make you loose your grip on the sword.

And it seems to have worked because the next moment, he sees you losing your strength, your face scrunched in concentration as you let out a few grunts. He takes a single step towards you while applying more force on your sword with his, and there goes your sword, falling onto the ground gracefully, like a martyred soldier.

"Do you accept defeat, miss y/n?" Felix teases through laboured breaths and you only have enough energy to roll your eyes at him, hitting his arm in response.

Felix passes you back your sword, as he walks over to the bench and slumps down.

Your body is too tired to worry about Felix bringing up yesterday's incident, so you follow him and sit by his side. Neither of you say anything, your fanning breaths and thumping hearts and the buzzing of insects are the only sounds in the arena. You'd never experienced this kind of peacefulness in the camp before, at least not unless you were by yourself.

When you recover from your momentary exhaustion, you look over at Felix and softly begin, "I was wondering..."

He glances at you with a smile.

Does he ever stop smiling?

"I was wondering...since Hyunjin already told you about the game, would you like to be my partner for the capture the flag game next week? I usually go with Minho but he's a referee this time." You say.

He is taken aback for a second - mostly because he'd never thought someone as cool as you would ask him to be your partner. Team games are very important in camps and its important  to make sure that the teammates do not turn out to be poor players. It somehow makes Felix very happy that you'd have such faith in him despite having known him for only two days.

He nods, "I'd be honored to do that."

Your heart beats furiously as you suck in a deep breath, "It's a deal then."

Gosh y/n, what has gotten into you!

*

You decide to take the longer route back.

Felix left early after finishing the duel so you spent the next hour practicing Archery alone before deciding to head back to your cabin.

Your thoughts are all over the place as it is, but the quietness of the woods help you to sort things out with yourself. You feel rather uncomfortable, experiencing emotions that you'd not felt in a long time, past insecurities and memories fighting their way back from the dungeons you'd locked them up in. This was ridiculous, wasn't it? How Felix comes out of nowhere and just flips everything up?

The sun rays fall on you from the gaps between the tree branches and as you listen to the birds chirp around you, you start to slowly hum to their tune.

"Wow, who hurt you, y/n?" A male voice calls you from behind, the sound of leaves getting crushed under a pair of hooves indicate the approaching entity.

"No one hurt me, Eden."

Eden is still as handsome as ever, you wonder to yourself everytime you return to the camp, with a sturdy upper body and beautiful grey eyes and two strong goat limbs instead of normal human legs, yet he's so much more alluring than any satyr you'd ever seen. (Then again, maybe you're just biased because he’s also your childhood friend) He flashes you a handsome smile and you immediately pray to the gods that he doesn't see you blush.

(a/n: Satyrs, also known as Fauns by Romans, are creatures with the upper body of a man and the lower body of a goat as well as goat horns, and the pointed ears of a goat. )

"What's up." He stands in front of you and kisses you softly on the head, "I had gone out yesterday so I couldn't come see you. Hope you didn't miss me too much."

You hit his chest, "You're so full of yourself, goat-boy." You continue walking back towards your cabin, Eden following right behind.

"Woahh. Using Minho's nicknames now, are we?" He snickers, "One of the kids told me that you had a little hormonal outburst last afternoon?"

An embarrassed sigh leaves you lips. The camp kids really couldn't miss out on one day of gossip now could they?

"I don't wanna talk about it." You mutter as yesterday's events flash into your mind. Felix, his face, his voice and your words. Oh God.

"Hey, no judgment here, okay? If you like the new Aphrodite boy then I support you. Do you want me to play wingman?"

You turn around and smack his chest once again. "I do not like him." Yet.

"Okay, okay. I get it." His tone falls serious, "Anyway  I heard about Poseidon's trident. It scared me, I won't lie. Something as powerful as that trident has never been forged in a millennia. And I can only imagine how powerful one has to be steal it. Are you sure only nine demigods are enough to find it?"

"It has to be, Eden." You say, "We don't have too many options. It's either this or we all drown and die or get killed by a monster. I'd like to choose the former."

Eden nods at your words, patting your head encouragingly.

You are about to speak up again when your eyes fall on a woman sitting on a log of wood just a few meters ahead of you.

"Is that one of the Aphrodite girls?" You whisper to Eden, only for him to shake his head in response.

The woman sits with her back facing you, a beautiful white dress adorning her small skinny frame and her brown hair tied in a tidy floral braid. Either the woman is a daughter of Aphrodite's or a Nymph, you conclude.

Without thinking much, you approach her, "Um, hello? May I know who you are?"

A startled gasp escapes your mouth when the woman turns around and looks at you with a very familiar smile playing at her lips - you'd grown up seeing that smile on Hyunjin and very recently on Felix. It's the very same smile, a Xerox copy of it.

"Aphrodite?" You mutter and she nods in response.

"Hello, y/n. Mind if I have a word with you?"

*

"So you were out with y/n? Dueling?" Changbin asks for the umpteenth time this morning, his usually playful eyes now focused seriously on Felix's body language.

"Yes, Changbin," Felix groans, lying flat on his fluffy bed, "Can you stop making a big deal out of it?"

Chan chuckles at the conversation, his eyes though focused on the book in front of him but his ears are on his two best friends' conversation. Chan knew Changbin wasn't the kind to trust people easily, especially Zeus' children so it's not surprising of him to be suspicious about you but what does come as a surprise to Chan is how oddly giggly Felix has been since last afternoon. After that awkward encounter with you. Could it be that Felix..?

"Do you like Zeus' daughter?" Changbin asks even before Chan can finish his line of  thought.

Felix's eyes widen, but the tips of his ears are bright red, "Dude I just met her. Can you not act like a love guru out of the blue?"

"Hey, you're the love expert here. Literally. So, I should be expecting a better answer from you, no?"

"No, I do not like her. Okay?" Felix groans, "But she did ask me to be her partner for the game next week and I'm telling you beforehand Seo Changbin, do not say or assume anything that would make her uncomfortable. "

The warning comes off as rather cute to Chan since he’s always seen the Aphrodite kid as his little brother while Changbin finds his words a tad bit alarming. A Zeus kid is not to be trusted this easily.

"Fine." Changbin mutters, his lips pressing into a thoughtful line, "But just be careful because  I - "

"Don't trust the Children of Zeus easily, yeah we know. Come on, Bin. Let him have some fun and make new friends. You should do it, too. We're not on our own anymore." Chan pipes in to save Felix this time and Felix secretly sends a thankful wink to him in return.

"Okay, okay." Changbin gives in.

The door to Felix's room creaks ever so slightly and the three of them turn their heads in anticipation of who it might be.

"Hey. Sorry to disturb you guys but we're being called for dinner." Hyunjin says, still getting used to having three new demigods around in the camp.

Chan closes his book, "Oh, come on, Hyunjin. You're not disturbing us. Come on in."

Felix gets up to greet his half brother with a fist bump and when he stands beside Hyunjin, the two older guys find it hilarious how terribly small he looks. Almost like Hyunjin were his father.

Felix almost as if reads their minds and narrows their eyes at them, "Dinner is ready guys. Can we move?"

"Shortie." Hyunjn whispers incoherently and makes a run towards the door.

"Hey, come back here you piece of -" Felix dashes right after him.

Changbin and Chan chuckle at their tactics, a foreign feeling of calmness settling between them. "This feels like home, Chan. We're finally home." Changbin admits, almost emotionally.

"Yes, Bin." Chan adds, "And I hope we never have to leave again."

*

"Aphrodite said what now?"

You sigh, running your index finger mindlessly along the lines of the wooden dinner table.

"She wants us to take the new demigods with us to find Poseidon's trident. Especially Felix." You look at your friends, "And she asked me to specifically visit the island of Sicily when we go on the quest. I asked her why but she said she doesn't know it herself."

Hyunjin grunts, almost irritated, "Y/n, I don't know how much you can trust my mother. She's known to cause drama for her own entertainment. "

Well, you do agree with what Hyunjin says but you cannot deny that Aphrodite didn't seem like she was purposely creating drama this time.

"Listen, y/n, you have to go to The island of Sicily. It will lead you to the trident, trust me." She whispers as if she is afraid of someone overhearing your conversation, "Take Felix with you. You'll need him. He'll need you."

You shudder at the memory of her unusually spooky tone.

"What do you think, dad?" Jisung turns to Apollo who has ever so naturally claimed a spot at your usual dinner table tonight, "Do you think we should let new demigods on a quest?"

"I don't think Aphrodite is playing this time. We should listen to her." He taps his finger against his chin, deep in thought, "We need as many people as we can get."

"Well, yeah. That makes sense." Minho says and you nod, "Yeah, Eden can talk to the three boys. He's always been good at all that."

The lack of protests from your friends indicate their approval and after talking about the quest for a few more minutes, Apollo leaves your table.

"So," Jisung chimes in as soon as his father is out of sight, "Our Y/n has been dueling with Lee Felix?"

You let out an exasperated growl, "Oh God, Jisung! It was just today!"

Jisung snickers and sticks out his tongue, rendering your words useless. Minho raises an eyebrow at your banter while the other boys giggle, "Eden tells me you are already smitten."

Eden! God, that Eden, you mentally vow to punch that smirk off of Eden's face the next time you see him. Why does he keep pushing ridiculous ideas into other people's head!

"I'm not smitten -"

"Who are you talking about?"

Your blood runs dry.

Please tell me Felix didn't just overhear this one conversation which includes me having a crush on him.

"Hey, Lix." Hyunjin laughs, "Took you three long enough to get here  I went to your room like an hour ago."

Felix rubs the back of his neck, guilty, "Changbin spilled water on my favorite sweatshirt. "

A short guy - probably Changbin - slaps Felix's back. "Ouch!"

"Liar!" Felix rolls his eyes, turning to speak with you, "Anyway, y/n, I'm assuming you're the only to not have met my brothers yet."

"Yeah, i think so." You reply with a small smile.

Felix pats the back of the two boys on his right and left respectively. "Chan, Changbin, meet y/n, she's Zeus' daughter and y/n, meet Chan, he's Poseidon's son and Changbin - Ares' son."

Oh wow that is a new combination.

The guy introduced as Chan has a kind smile and messy brown hair while the Changbin dude has jet black hair and very intimidating eyes. He looks up and down your form, as if checking whether you were worth being Felix's friend - vibe checking, if you may.

"Hi, I'm y/n."

With the introductions done and dinner served, your group of old and new friends enjoy this peaceful evening together. The loud laughs and sassy remarks and friendly banters make you feel somewhat calm, but a part of you knows this isn't for long.

It’s like the calm before the storm.

"So, are we meeting for practice tomorrow too?" Felix whispers into your ears when he finds the others too indulged in conversation.

Your heart picks up its pace but you manage to nod with pink cheeks, "Yes. Same time as today."

A few seats away from you, Changbin overhears your conversation and decides that he doesn't really like you.

*

Taglist: @chogiwow​@ctrlaltfangirl​@blueprint-han​@whattaweeb​@bigskzz​@judewalid​@kpopssuregi​@crispy-chan​@cookielino​@rebelspy​@persassystilinski@stayctday​@charlieshelves​

Note: Please DM or send an ask if you wish to be added to the taglist!

[tossawary]

Chapter 19: “Weddings and Funerals” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” random favorite lines with commentary because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary. 

-

 When Shang Qinghua told Mobei-Jun that he didn’t need Shen Qingqiu assassinated, it wasn’t because he thought everything would somehow work out if he just sat back and didn’t do anything. It definitely wasn’t because he was planning a so-called “perfect murder” and didn’t want the demon lord messing up his plans. The Problem of Shen Qingqiu has always been a lot more  complicated than “just get rid of the guy potentially making my nephew’s life a living hell”. That’s why it’s a real problem! 

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua’s thought process: “Can this problem be solved by: 

A) Waiting for the problem to go away? 

B) Murder? 

C) None of the above? 

If the answer is C... 

Fuck, it’s a real problem.” 

- 

 Shang Qinghua thinks that might actually be possible, though he’d have to do some research and smack his head until his Author God memories hopped into line. He thinks that the youth-restoration procedure would probably do the job, but he also thinks that Shen Qingqiu would probably rather be dead than be physically sixteen again or something (super fucking understandable) and have to start the cultivation process over from scratch (ah, that would be so annoying and embarrassing). 

- 

AN: Given that I actually invented a de-aging potion for this fic (if one that’s difficult to put together), the AU of “Original Shen Qingqiu is physically 16 again” has been rattling around inside my head ever since I wrote these lines. Shen Qingqiu was like, “Wait, let me picture how unbearably overprotective Yue Qingyuan would be... hmm... no, I’ll just stay like this.” 

- 

 Luo Jiahui seems a little anxious about the empty spaces at the table, but she fills the space as best she can by chattering about assorted restaurant business. At least until she abruptly takes a deep breath and says, “Hua-Ge, I have something to tell you.” 

 Shang Qinghua freezes in the middle of taking a drink. His unhelpful brain immediately races to guess the worst possible conversational subjects. His sister-in-law has somehow figured out that he’s a transmigrator?! His sister-in-law has decided that her son is not going to the Demon Realm under any circumstances?! His sister-in-law knows Binghe better than he does and has realized that the young protagonist is being abused after all?! Oh,  fuck, what is it? 

 “I’m getting married!” Luo Jiahui announces, breathlessly. 

 “Oh,” Shang Qinghua says, heart rate going at the speed of sound. “Wait,  what?” 

- 

AN: This chapter is why I didn’t go into the details of LJH/LQG in the last chapter, immediately post-timeskip. I wanted to blindside everyone with an “Oh, it’s THAT serious?!” moment. The last chapter established that “SQH is handling things”, then this chapter establishes that, as the plot goes on, “SQH is only barely handling things”. Which helps prep the following breakdown with the System World Update in chapters 20-22. 

- 

 “You didn’t have any time for yourself,” Shang Qinghua agrees, following this conversation of very obvious things that he already knew so far. He didn’t have any time for himself back then either, between organizing a conference and finding a cure on top of the usual day-in-day-out of the sect. “You did a really good job looking after them all by yourself!” 

 “They don’t always agree with that,” Luo Jiahui says, smiling but self-deprecating. 

 “Aha, well, they’re young.” 

 The disagreements of what was best for the children is why Shang Qinghua really had to get Fanli (who didn’t see herself as a child) out of the house by any means necessary. He was at a bit of a loss at how else to help. She was never part of  Proud Immortal Demon Way! Not even as a fragment of backstory mentioned in passing! Shang Qinghua struggles to compensate for these extra people who were never characters sometimes. 

 “Qingge was very understanding,” Luo Jiahui says. “But… well… then Fanli was gone and I had the restaurant keeping me busy, but that was all my own choice… and what good was waiting really doing us? It didn’t have to be everything or nothing. So… we talked… about what we wanted and what- what we were afraid of… and we decided to go forward slowly.” 

- 

AN: I said in the Author’s Notes on AO3 that I was going to use Jiage to shame Moshang and Qijiu, and I meant it. TALK TO EACH OTHER!!! Shang Qinghua, you need to talk to Mobei-Jun about what you want! Shang Qinghua, you can’t keep putting things on hold because of the plot! 

- 

 No offense to either his sister-in-law or his junior martial brother, but aren’t love stories supposed to be a little more… fiery? 

 “When I was younger, I thought that falling in love was supposed to be all excitement and passion and not being able to live without someone even for a second,” Luo Jiahui admits, a little wistfully. “I thought that it was supposed to be thinking about them all the time, not being able to stay away from each other, and needing to know what they’d been doing every second they were away. It was like becoming a completely different person. I thought that being in love was about one of us getting horribly jealous every time we even talked to someone else, doing things I didn’t really understand and changing myself just to keep him happy, and keeping secrets and sneaking around just to keep things from exploding. Because love is not being able to help yourself like that, right?” 

 Shang Qinghua can’t really manage to speak right now. 

 It’s like someone has cut his fucking throat. 

 Which is fine! 

 “But that ended really badly for me,” Luo Jiahui says, with a nervous huff at her own understatement. “It was very exciting, but looking back, being in that kind of love was also very frightening sometimes… and it was a little lonely too… being in love with someone I couldn’t really talk to or trust.” 

-

AN: This is more specifically vagueing SVSSS Bingqiu than Moshang, but it’s also shaming Moshang too. Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky wrote some extremely messed-up romances and he would have said, “Yes! It’s all super messed-up! That’s kind of the point!” But it also means that the man can’t really conceptualize (at least at first) or articulate the kind of relationship he would actually be happy to have with Mobei-Jun, especially when his relationship with Mobei-Jun had such violent beginnings 

- 

 The first person he tells himself is, weirdly enough, Qi Qingqi. Liu Qingge apparently already told both Liu Mingyan and Luo Fanli before he left, so Shang Qinghua heads over to see how the girls are handling it. (Also, he wants to pump Liu Mingyan for information on her mother’s opinions on weddings and marriage, in a really pathetic attempt to ready himself for the rumble.) He makes her agree to keep the information to herself before telling and she does, like a bro! 

 And then he tells and she laughs in his fucking face! Eventually, she realizes that he’s looking for sympathy, he’s not just here to let her enjoy his suffering, as a form of payment after everything he and Liu Qingge have inflicted on her. Then she laughs at him again, even louder. 

 Sure, he’d laugh too if he was in her shoes! But not to her face! Rude! 

 - 

AN: Qi Qingqi also pointed while laughing, I think. It’s funny because it’s not her dealing with Liu Family shit this time. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua expected, this time last year, to be laser-focused on the plot! His attention was not going to stray even a little bit, he promised himself; he was going to be 110% dedicated to making sure that everyone he tripped into caring about made it through the least shitty version of  Proud Immortal Demon Way  possible. He was going to be a  machine  of a transmigrator! No distractions! All he wanted was for his family to make it through the quickest, least shitty bare bones of a plot! And he was going to  achieve, damn it! 

 Instead, he finds himself planning his sister-in-law’s wedding and it eats up time he didn’t fucking know he had to give. Immortal Alliance Conference, eat your fucking heart out! Cang Qiong Mountain Sect? Did he work there? Nope, he’s never heard of the place! He’s the Peak Lord of wedding planning now! 

- 

AN: This is me telling myself I’m going to get my life 100% together and then getting into a new video game and baking cookies instead. Or ditching my housecleaning plans to hang out with friends at a moment’s notice. 

- 

 At the wedding itself, Fanli tells her sister’s father-in-law that Binghe is also  very into birds and Shang Qinghua’s nephew spends a good chunk of the rest of the celebrations (and his precious time away from Qing Jing Peak) held hostage by his own politeness, listening to his new grandfather earnestly tell him about the various migration habits of demonic birds. 

 Well! Better him than Shang Qinghua, honestly! 

-

AN: Inspired by that time we went on vacation and one of my brothers got mistaken by one of our travelling companions for a budding serious birdwatcher instead of someone who just thinks they’re neat - and also likes to point at them and intentionally call them by the wrong name. 

Also, LQG’s Dad in this fic and SY would probably get along super well. 

LQG and his dad in this universe have gone out on month-long camping trips to in which they pretty much don’t talk the entire time. They stalk monsters through the wilderness and have a great time.

- 

 Shang Qinghua is too busy keeping an eye on Luo Fanli and being  not talked to by Liu Mingyan, who is eighteen-ish years old now he thinks and still deeply embarrassed by the fact that he told her off for her real person fiction. (He doesn’t want to discourage her passion for writing! She’s pretty good for a kid! It’s pretty cute! Everyone needs their escapist hobbies! He just doesn’t want identifying information about his family being spread around freely, even if the characterizations of the couple are… uh… wildly reimagined, and he doesn't want to have to spend his very valuable time keeping a lookout for more illicit fiction.) It’s difficult to read her expression through the ever-present veil, but… yeah, she’s still pissed off at him.

 Ugh, teenagers. 

 Binghe is not allowed to bring several hundred nieces-in-law into Shang Qinghua's life. Just... no. Fuck, no. 

 He doesn’t even get a date to commiserate about this with. 

 It’s a very small wedding, family only (Luo Jiahui’s shitty parents  don’t count  and her older brother was forced to decline the invitation), so that Luo Jiahui and Liu Qingge can keep their privacy. Madam Liu huffed about it - the battles in talking her down were both great and terrible - but her son stood his ground! Sure, people might whine someday about not being invited, but the great thing about Liu Qingge is that they can more or less just say,  “Well, we couldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted!”  And people just have to take that unless they want to claim they could take on the Bai Zhan Peak War God! 

- 

AN: Trying to imagine the AU in which SQH brought MBJ as his date to this wedding. SQH would’ve liked to be able to bring MBJ as a date, but alas, they are not dating and the groom would probably try to kill the man. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua is not expecting, soon after returning from his sister-in-law’s happy and long-awaited wedding, to be solemnly informed that Shen Qingqiu’s health has only really deteriorated these past months. Wow, that’s a huge downer. 

 Also, he already knew that? He’s been getting Mu Qingfang all the right supplies to treat their shixiong. He didn’t actually abandon his duties to the sect for a family wedding. He knew that Shen Qingqiu had fallen sufficiently ill to need tending on Qian Cao Peak in the past month and he considered it, well, convenient timing in regards to Binghe’s permission to attend his mother’s wedding not being randomly revoked. Cold-hearted, maybe! But he had lots of other things to worry about at the time, like informing Mobei-Jun that his sister-in-law was getting married and so he’d be regrettably absent to attend the wedding. 

 Then he’s told that Shen Qingqiu is not expected to improve this time. 

  “Oh, shit, they really think he’s dying,” Shang Qinghua realizes. 

 This really wasn’t in  Proud Immortal Demon Way. 

- 

AN: I seriously contemplated cutting this chapter in half because of this mood switch. Like, I went in intending on writing a serious mood switch, but in practice, wow. It felt like a lot more in practice. 

- 

 “Our sect leader asks about the boy and his progress,” Shen Qingqiu rasps, his voice turning more and more accusing. “He’s  so very  concerned about the boy. We can’t have such a beloved child  crying  to his devoted family that he’s been mistreated or neglected, can we? How flattering these assumptions are. It makes a man wonder what exactly people think he’s going to  do to the boy.” 

 Shang Qinghua might have an itemized list somewhere, honestly. 

 “Ah, I can’t speak for anyone else,” Shang Qinghua says finally. “But please don’t take it personally, Shen-Shixiong. I don’t really trust anyone. Anything can happen behind a locked door, you know?” 

 Some honest cynicism can go over well with the man. 

 Shen Qingqiu laughs bitterly now. 

- 

AN: It can be fun in media where Character A is like, “Ahhh, I hope no one discovers my secret!” And Character B is like, “So, about this extremely obvious thing that you’re doing...!” 

Shen Qingqiu is as honest and open as he is throughout this scene because he honestly thinks that he’s dying. He’s determined to be blithe about it. 

- 

Shang Qinghua at least gets to see Mu Qingfang’s face journey as Shen Qingqiu accuses their sect leader of letting him think that he’d left him to die. As Shen Qingqiu yells about being treated like an unwanted ghost, as a potential blackmailer, as an embarrassing disappointment, as a petty troublemaker, as a spoiled child, as a problem to be solved, and as the last blemish on Yue Qingyuan’s reputation - anything but as someone worthy of being trusted with Yue Qingyuan’s problems and of being treated like an equal friend. 

 Yue Qingyuan tries to explain that he didn’t think Shen Qingqiu wanted to hear his excuses, and Shen Qingqiu shoots back that he would rather fucking die than beg the man he’d thought had forgotten about him to explain when exactly he became not worth rescuing as soon as possible. 

 Yue Qingyuan tries to explain that he didn’t want Shen Qingqiu’s pity or to force the man to be grateful that he’d  tried. 

 Shen Qingqiu tells the man to go fuck himself. How could it not hurt for someone he loved to hurt him and then just…  move past the hurt  like the pain wasn’t  who they were? 

 “All the world could revile me… reject me… leave me to die… and I would pay their hatred no heed! What do they truly know of what I am? Of who I am?” Shen Qingqiu demands. “But if  Qi-Ge  could throw me away… decide that I just wasn’t worth the  trouble anymore now that he’d had a taste of a better life… then I really must be wretched beyond all things at the root! If he believed it, then… then it had to be true.” 

- 

AN: Because I just wrote a Qijiu confrontation over this exact thing, like, a few days before, I thought that I could get away with writing out this entire confrontation in full. I think it works better if the audience has to imagine some of it. And because SQH is the POV character, it felt right that he not be in the room and not be a full witness to this scene. He doesn’t get to see everything. 

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions VII

masterlist

This is a fic i’m writing to try and incorporate more description into my works. You will be happy to know that it’s working ;) There are no pre-written chapters so updates are sporadic and i am just as in the dark as you about what happens next. Please enjoy!

Percy Jackson traces the insignia under his fingers, feels the gravelly texture of the stone and the way each word engraves itself into his skin.

militat omnis amans

He hears Jason's words in his head, let's the conversation loop in his mind.

"What are we doing here?"

"I needed to take a walk in the gardens. I can't stay in that stone monstrosity for another second."

"And you wanted me to come with you?"

"If you don't want to be here you can leave." His husband snapped.

He just hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sorry," The Prince mumbled, "I'm just a little volatile right now."

"What does this mean?" Percy figured it was time for a subject change.

"Our motto?"

"Yes, I've seen it everywhere and I've never managed to ask anyone about it."

"Every lover is a soldier."

He looked at the blonde, caught those dull blue eyes. "Really?"

"It's a long story."

"Shall we sit on the bench so you can tell me?"

And then someone had called them inside to go over the details of the King's address that would be happening in the coming week.

"Another time." Jason winced.

Now Percy sits in the garden on a wooden bench, basking in the warmth and protection of an Arrowood tree in full bloom. The soft pink flowers catch on the wind and shower him with petals every so often. The sky is unusually blue for the winter but the chill in the air makes up for it. It is a deadly bite, waiting for any piece of skin to be exposed. The grass is green and cushioning under his feet and the soft cashmere pants his wearing are keeping the icy breeze at bay. He takes a deep breath in. This weather is dopamine in his bloodstream; is full of new beginnings and life.

His fingers brush against the engraved insignia again and he cannot help but wonder the tale behind it. The story of his own kingdom's symbol is one he keeps close to his heart, treasures with every blink of his eyes. His emblem flashes across his mind: a silver sword slicing through a cresting wave, the droplets from it turn bronze in the sun and fall to make their maxim: datum amore ad defendendum. The story is gruesome and bloody and full of honour. Percy's father used to tell it to him on the rare occasion he would tuck him in bed.

There was once a man, brave and strong.

Like you dad?

His father laughed and ruffled his curls. Shh my Starfish and listen to the story of Arroyo the Saviour.

So Percy snuggled into his cotton sheets, a panda pillow tucked under his chin and blinked up in anticipation.

Arroyo was a little boy who lived with his mom and his sister and his sibling, near the ocean. Everyday little Arroyo went down to the docks with his sibling and they would stand there selling bracelets their family made. It was the only way they could get money to eat.

Did their king not give them food dad? His green eyes were wide with horror.

Not everyone is kind my son. Some days little Arroyo and his sibling came back with no money and his mom would smile at them and say "It is okay. Today we eat fish and tomorrow we feast." So they sat down at the table and ate their fish just like they did every night and not once did Arroyo or his siblings complain. For they knew that a tomorrow would come where the feast would be greater than the fish and it was no use leaving today's meal in the hope of tomorrow's promises.

Little Percy frowned, confused at what his father was trying to say. But the King was lost in his own world now, matching ocean eyes far away from this bedroom, in this time and place.

One day Arroyo's mother got sick and his siblings stayed with her while he went to sell bracelets. But when he got home, a small pouch of coins rattling in his pocket, his house was rubble and his family were gone.

Gone? Percy gasped, Where dad? What happened?

His father snapped his head to the present, looked down at his son. They died my Starfish. Someone killed them.

Tears pooled hot and fast in his little eyes, Why dad?

Because Starfish Arroyo's mother was not who she claimed to be and people do not like what they do not understand. But nobody knew that Arroyo was safe, that he had made it out alive. And when he finally grew up, his mother's blood strong in his veins he came back to the village. And there he demanded to see the people who had layed his home to waste all those years ago. The people trembled before him, his might and vengeance a force they could not tame. Arroyo only asked once. And when nobody could tell him anything he smiled with his teeth and drowned the town. His tail creating waves that engulfed the world.

Arroyo was a mermaid? Percy didn't like it when dad told stories, he always left things out and it was confusing to listen to.

He was a beast my Starfish. His father said softly, eyes glittering with excitement, For you see his mother was the Exiled Queen of the Ocean and she had fallen in love with a mortal man. A forbidden romance.

So what happened to Arroyo? Did he kill everyone?

He drowned the village but saved one person. A little girl by the name of Mare for she had looked at him, with his burning anger and broken soul, and offered him the pearl she kept in a pendant at her neck. For her he bowed down and accepted the gift.

Did she become his queen dad?

No Starfish, she was much too young. Instead Arroyo took her to his home deep deep in the waves and she lived there as his friend, as his family. But sometimes Mare had to go to land for she did not have the blood Arroyo did and she could not survive in those brutal waters for long. Arroyo would take her there every full moon and bring her home every new moon. One night when she was due back on land a terrible, terrible force lurked in the water. But Arroyo didn't feel it and Mare could never have known. They said their goodbyes as they always did, promising to see each other soon.

Percy squeezed his father fingers, little lip trembling slightly.

Arroyo dived back in but something slammed into his side. He smashed into the rocks of the village and the whole town quaked. The creature attacked Arroyo, its huge body and spiked tail hitting him everywhere. Mare screamed but there was nothing she could do. And then Arroyo came up to look at her because he knew in his heart that he was not to survive this fight. He waved to his friend, his family through the years and when she waved back the monster rose from the waves and bit Arroyo. He went down so softly it was almost as if he had chosen to sleep. Mare knew the monster would come for her village next and she would not allow it to destroy the only other thing she loved. So she grabbed a sword, sharp gleaming silver, and ran across the ocean. Her feet light and swift against the rolling waves. The creature burst out in a flurry of rage but it was not prepared for the strength of Mare and when it met her sword it let out a shriek so vile the dead curdled. Blood sprayed everywhere as the sword fell from her hand and into the waves below.

Did Mare live dad? He yawned, fear giving away to sleepiness.

Mare is the spirit of the ocean my son. She lives in here. His father tapped his little chest softly before bending down to place a kiss on his forehead.

I hope I'm brave like Mare dad.

You are braver still my Starfish. He whispered.

Percy blinks out of the memory, rubbing at the ache in his chest that accompanied every thought about his dad. It has been more than a decade since that fateful night but the missing never gets easier.

He hugs his knees to his chest and watches two birds fight over a small peach dangling precariously from the tree. Such simple pleasures and petties. There are at least sixty other peaches, just as perfectly red and ripe, on the tree but these birds continue to chirp indignantly at each other. He wonders if it's purposeful. If maybe they just want the connection. It's not really about the peach. It's about having someone to argue against, talk to, be with. Gods, he scowls at himself, he must really be lonely if it's come to this.

The bench suddenly becomes uncomfortable, like every splint of wood is trying to pierce his skin. With a heavy sigh he pulls himself up and strolls towards the stone castle. In the week that he's been here it still hasn't felt any more friendly. He misses his castle, misses the home he has there. But his husband is here so he must be too. At the very least Grover will arrive this afternoon and they can spend some time together. He needs this meeting, needs to see his friend and some semblance of normal. A little voice in his head argues that he's the one who's been straying from his angered promises. The one that's been sleeping besides Jason under the pretense of nightmares. He pushes the little voice deep down, buries it in the darkness where it can shiver and cower without his knowledge or concern. As if his thoughts summon the man, his husband appears around the corner and offers him a swift smile.

"I was just coming to find you."

"You've changed." Is his reply.

Prince Jason did indeed don a new outfit. Perfectly pressed tunic the colour of the sky and a gold chain attached dangling from the small square pocket on his left breast to the first button of the coat. His pants are a deep blue, the same golden threads glinting in the sunlight. But it's the small white rose tucked into his chest pocket that Percy is focused on.

"What is that?"

"When we mourn in the kingdom we wear white roses to signify gentle death and prosperous living."

He nods stiffly, unsure if it's appropriate to ask if he may participate in the custom. Luckily he is saved when Jason's blue eyes pin on him, "Would you like to wear one?"

"Please. This is my Kingdom now too. I feel it would be a great disrespect to not."

The prince looked at him, blonde hair ruffling softly as the breeze caressed their skin and flittered between his dancing fingers. He stood there unmoving while his husband studied him like a Rubik’s cube that needed just the right pattern to fix it.

"Come with me."

They walk together, through the field of poppies bursting with colour, past the grove of fruit trees equally bright and heavy with sweet delights, over the small bridge that marks the Pond of Storms, or at least according to the plaqued waterfall that fed it.

"Why that name?"

"Just before a storm hits the water goes pitch black like storm clouds."

He stares at the clear, brilliant aquamarine of the pond, his rippling reflection staring back and wonders if it's a lie, or a wives' tale.

"You still owe me a story."

"About?"

They cross the bridge and turn a corner.

"About your insignia."

"Why do you like them so much?" Jason turns to him, curiosity burning in his expression, "Stories I mean."

"They're the easiest way to understand the core of something. A language only the lived know how to speak."

"I've heard about yours, your symbol."

"How?" He's the intrigued one now.

"My father liked us to know about the neighboring kingdoms. I never understood it then, always managed to fall asleep in our history lessons, but I guess it's been helpful."

"My mother didn't know yours." He says softly, "She is the Keeper of Worlds so she was able to tell me all kinds of tales but she said she never knew the origins of Caelum."

The Prince shakes his head, "It's only passed down from king to to descendant. Sharing it with anyone is a crime against the kingdom."

Percy's head snaps back in shock, "For telling a story?"

His husband just shrugs like its the most normal thing in the world.

"Why would you tell me then?"

"Sometimes tradition is bullshit."

"But you'd still be committing a crime?"

"Gives life a little thrill." His smile is wicked as he winks an aquamarine eye and steps through the small wooden door built into the hedge.

"Welcome to the Garden of Hearts."

Spread out before them is a sea of roses so glorious in their beauty it makes Percy's soul stutter. There is every colour under the setting sun. Starting with bleach white the roses lay across the field bleeding into cream then yellow then orange then red then pink. Rows upon rows of soft love and romance.

He doesn't manage to hold in a gasp as he drops to his knees and caresses a maroon petal. The tears in his eyes go unacknowledged even when they spill over and water the earth. He's almost certain the flower blooms in his hand.

"This is..." He breathes. He doesn't have the words. They are dust particles violently swept under a rug. They are grains of sand smashed into the earth under the weight of feet. They are simply gone.

"I'm glad you like it." Jason smiles at him and the halo of sun around his head makes Percy weak at the knees.

"Who did this? Who planted this?"

"My sister, Annabeth." The blonde looks around, caught in a time long ago, "She did it in memory of our mom."

"It reminds me of mine."

What he doesn't tell his husband is that more than that, it reminds him of a friend he left far behind. Of a friend he was willing to marry. A friend he was willing to love.

He reaches forward and plucks a satin white rose from the small bush. But as he's pulling away his finger catches on a thorn and suddenly the rose is disintegrating to the floor and those pure white petals are splattered with rubies.

"Fuck." He mutters sucking on the wounded skin in an attempt to stop the blood.

"Here," Jason winces in sympathy, holding out a bleached pocket square.

"Thank you," He offers a gracious smile through the sting of pain. "And I'm sorry about the roses."

"It's okay, the blood will wash off with the next rains."

He just nods and cradles his throbbing digit.

"Are you okay?"

"I've been stabbed before but somehow the little cuts always hurt the worst."

For the first time in well maybe ever, he hears his husband laugh. And it is godlike, a thing of beauty and splendour. Something deep in his chest unfurls gently.

"We'll go inside and get some disinfectant and a plaster on that." Jason promises before bending down to cut another rose, carefully extracting it from the web of thorns and leaves it buried itself in.

"Here," He offers it.

Percy takes a step closer, still clutching his finger, and silently asks if he can put it on for him. Those blue eyes widen slightly, but that's all the surprise the Prince shows. 

They step together and the blonde softly places the flower in his emerald green tunic. Jason smooths his hand over the area distractedly and stares up at him. Their eyes clash in a look of confusion, and curiosity, and something wholly unnatural.

"We should go." The Prince whispers.

He swallows hard and nods but neither make a move. He can smell his husband’s fresh minty breath and see the micro flecks of grey in those eyes. Gods, how has he never noticed how strong his jaw is. How there's the tiniest beauty-mark on the bridge of his nose. And the small crease in his brow that makes his whole face look so much older, look like the king he will one day be.

A cacophonous shriek from above rips them apart in a jump of fright. The low gliding hawk over head seems to narrow its eyes at the pair before flying back to its master. Report on the Princes: they've almost started tolerating each other.

Jason turns away and starts for the carved door once more. Percy stares at his back, trying to gather himself, swiping the borrowed pocket square across his bruising skin. His kingdom's maxim flashes in his mind again. Datum amore ad defendendum. Given in love for protection. He takes a shaky breath before following his husband back to the castle.

The Pond of Storms flushes charcoal. And behind him, where his blood had spilled, the petals of an ice-white rose turn crimson.

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

If you missed it: militat omnis amans means every lover is a soldier; Datum amore ad defendendum means given in love for protection.

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​

@leydiangelo​​

@sparkythunderstorm​​

@aalikun​​

@makos-bi-awakening​​

[atsvmi-x]

To Give and Take

warnings: mention of vomiting

word count: 756

a/n: i just really like the idea of kiyoomi with an s/o that’s his opposite (can you tell that this is self indulgent?) i’m not 100% satisfied with it but i was tired of it sitting in my drafts.

sakusa kiyoomi never thought much about “ideal types”. despite being subjected to more than his fair of locker room talk throughout the years, never once did his mind stray to envision an ideal partner. tall or short, petite or plus-sized- few physical traits, if any, piqued his interest enough to flesh out a version of a romantic partner. any trait he was pestered about by his teammates and acquaintances was met with a simple, “it’s nice enough.”

romance was never a significant blip on the radar of his life when it came down to it. he just figured that at some point in time life would bring about a complimentary spirit. someone that fit well into the rigid lifestyle and high expectations that he had set for himself. independent, self-assured, and most of all clean. little else mattered in his opinion. the right person who checked his boxes would fall into his life at the right time.

sakusa didn’t believe in ideal types but he absolutely knew what he was not looking for. as a top athlete in a team-oriented sport, he had many opportunities to observe personalities across the spectrum and he could definitively list most of them on his “never in a million years” mental checklist. without a doubt, the worst of the worst traits he had the misfortune of interacting with was surely boisterous, impulsive, and worst of all: slovenly.

but somehow that all went out the window when it came to you.

you fell into friendship with his teammates relatively overnight once introduced. the trio that already produced mind numbing headaches due to their volume was only increased by your shrill laugh added to the mix. even being in the general vicinity of your quartet of chaos was enough to make him want to give up on his day and try again tomorrow.

to add insult to injury, your tendency to live each day as if it were your last was confusing and, frankly, concerning to him. once over breakfast you questioned if you should get groceries or purchase a new pair of shoes you had been eyeing since they were “cute and on sale.” of course he voted in favor of the groceries. (later he surprised you with the shoes but not without explaining the importance of budgeting.)

but your idiosyncrasies were small issues compared to the night that the olympic volleyball team roster was announced. to celebrate, bokuto hosted an “intimate” house party, intimate being a suggestive term. not one to turn away from a good time, you convinced him to “show his face”. unfortunately, you enjoyed the night a bit too much. his blood ran cold at the sounds that bounced off the wall, confirming that you had taken advantage of the open bar. with a heavy heart, he knocked against the door once, twice, three times before cracking the door open only to find your head resting soundly against the toilet seat. he refused to kiss you for a month after that incident.

but for all the pitfalls, your efforts to meet him in the middle were never overlooked.

while you and the rest of the black jackals were birds of a feather, you were unafraid to calm them down for his sake, sometimes ushering your posse away to give him some much needed space. other times you would go as far as to end your night early when his social battery was drained and his disdain was easily readable to you alone.

before moving in together you had a habit of ignoring your overflowing laundry basket and a tendency to leave used dishes until the sink was full. yet you had fully accepted the nature of his phobias, readily changing your ways to make your joint spaces equally comfortable for you both. (he ignores the unsightly mess in the background over video calls while he has away matches so long as they’re gone before he’s back home.)

sakusa kiyoomi doesn’t believe in ideal types. every image he could have possibly conceived in his head paled in comparison to you. your gentle touches and honest words became a lifeline once he let you in. while sakusa was an unreadable manuscript to most, you read him as easily as the sunday paper. somehow fate had turned his worst nightmare into his safe haven. through you, sakusa learned how to give and take. your fluidity softened his rigidity but also gave you an anchor to reality. sun and moon. darkness and light. two halves existing as one whole.

[kpopchangedme]

Midnight Somewhere | Bang Chan

It’s the last day of the year at work and the lack of supervision has apparently made your coworker lose sight of your office dating ban.

Protagonists: Bang Chan & You

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: SFW - Office Romance -  Best Friend - Humour - [Drabble 2k]

Prompt: “You’re up to something, and I want in” 

Requested by: @chessireneko​, I hope you like it!

Lys’ note: I wish you all a wonderful new decade! Happy New Year! (Don’t come @ me for being late, this is still my first fic of 2020 after all)

Stray Kids | M.list

It’s a slow day at the office but that’s pretty standard. Between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, most of the company’s employees don’t even bother coming in. If no one is working upstairs to have tech issues, phones on your floor remain silent.

Still, every year, two employees of the nerd squad need to report for duty and it’s usually the loners, foreigners or asocial. You don’t belong to any of those categories but you’re one of the chosen ones this New Year’s Eve. Your whole family went on a Holiday trip to Bora Bora, abandoning you behind. Of course, you could be in worse company. You mostly agreed to come in knowing you’d be all alone with your work friend… And long-standing crush.

In front of you, Chan is ridiculously stretched, feet resting on the desk of his absent neighbour and head thrown behind. You spend every weekday facing the other, your computer’s screens back to back. You’ve been working together for two years, his family is back in Australia so he doesn’t bother with Holidays. The young man’s chair is tilted back precariously, unbalanced. His eyes are covered with a sleeping mask, a phone headset messily thrown on his head. He’s not sleeping though, just aggressively hungover. For some reason, his empty coffee mug – his second one – doesn’t seem to be helping much.

“I hear you, Mr. Radcliff,” you assure in your own headset, opening Minesweeper on your computer, “Yes. Yes. Of course. No. No, Yang is not here today. He’ll be coming back in two days. Yes.”

Chan slides up his mask to gaze at you curiously and you make eye contact. His eyes are bloodshot, matching his bedraggled looks quite nicely. The head of Marketing you’re on the phone with – Raymond T. Radcliff – is a divorced workaholic, infamous at tech support for his lack of both humanity and computer skills. Every time he breaks something, he calls to yell at whoever picks up, eventually requesting to speak to a supervisor. Today, for better or worse, you’re flying solo. Smile, Chan mouths you, grinning, they can hear your smile. That’s Yang’s motto, but the boss isn’t here to breathe down your neck. You flip your hungover friend the bird and his dimples dig deeper. At least someone’s having fun. 

Radcliff’s rant lasts for a whole hour, by the end of it you have switched to Mahjong. From the corner of your eye, you see Chan’s starting the drip coffee maker again. Frowning, you perk up and spin on your chair to be sure you aren’t hallucinating. He must be in pretty bad shape because he’s the only human in the whole building who is not addicted to caffeine. It’s like he has a superpower, he rarely drinks it. You though the pot from this morning was exceptional, but him brewing a second one must mean he’s on the brink of death.

“Um-Um.” You hum for Radcliff, unbelievingly following Chan’s movements as he fills the water tank, puts a new paper filter on and presses brew. That’s something you don’t witness every day. “Yes. Yes. I’ll spread the wor–” There’s a loud clicking noise when the Marketing god hangs up and you’re left hanging in the middle of a sentence. “What an ass!”

Chan laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. His back is turned on you, built shoulders perfectly outlined by his too-tight dress shirt. He has been hitting the gym in 2019. It’s an older one that doesn’t fit as well anymore, you haven’t seen it in months, he probably couldn’t be bothered with laundry these days. Usually, he’s tidy and clean-cut, the only thing that never screams ‘profesh’ about him is his perpetually dishevelled dark curls.

“What an ass,” he echoes and you twitch in surprise. You had drifted away, too busy shamelessly gawking at him. Bouncing back, you run fingers through your bangs, entangling them. "You okay?” 

Meeting his perplexed gaze, you smile, “Yeah, sorry I just…” Trailing off, you desperately search for something to say but Chan saves the day. 

“You know, it has its perks, holding the fort with me while everyone’s away at home…” Claiming so, he brings a mug full of hot beverage under his nose, inhaling it before winking suspiciously. He’s hinting at something. “You just need to make the most of it.”

“Christopher Bang, you’re up to something…” Glad he doesn’t seem to have noticed you staring, you cross your arms over your chest and circle the office to join him against the counter. In the meantime, Chan sips his coffee with the smile of an angel. “And I want in…” When you’ve made it, he offers you his mug and one draft is enough to make you shrink back. Your eyes round in shock. “You’re drinking!”

He gasps, faking to take offence; “Am not! It’s coffee!” He would have a lot more impact if he didn’t look half as bad as he did at your November company’s Christmas party… And you remember all too well how that ended. The dust has just settled down between you too, things barely back to normal. Chan’s all wobbly and intense eye-contact, definitely tipsy.

“More like coffee-flavoured whiskey!”

“Uh?” Chan pouts and looks down his mug, tilting it dangerously; “Then no wonder I like it so much.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh despite yourself, glancing at the elevator doors, “I thought you were curing your hangover.”

“Care to join on the fun?” He pulls out a whiskey bottle, poorly concealed behind the box of Froot Loops tagged ‘Han’ in capital letters. “The best hangover cure I know is to never stop.”

“We’re at work, Bang.”

“Alone, together. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

You scoff, “It’s still early.”

Unbothered, he gulps the amber liquid without breaking eye-contact. “It’s midnight somewhere.” He’s the one drinking, but somehow it’s your throat that is burning, staring when his tongue darts through his lips.

“We could get caught,” you hush, winded. Chan always has that effect on you. It might be the facing-each-other-all-day but there’s a spark, more than your simple crush. A mutual attraction you would definitely have acted on years ago if it weren’t of your no-dating office policy. Whenever you go out for drinks with the nerd squad, it always resurfaces, enough for the others to blatantly call you two out. If they only knew.

“Oh no, and lose the most fulfilling job ever? Who would Radcliff yell at?” He smiles, sipping again. “You don’t have to join me, don’t worry. I know how hard it is for you to let loose, y/l/n.”

“Hey,” you breathe out, irked, “I let loose.”

“Do you?” He tilts his head, playful, “When was the last time?” You both know when. You’re about to tell him off when his desk’s phone rings. Chan chuckles, pressing a button on his headset. “Lemon Tech Support. Christopher Bang.” Not breaking eye-contact, you quirk a brow defiantly, stealing away his mug. Chan watches intently as the white ceramic meets your lips, gulping himself when you drink the peaty liquid. “How can I assist you?” He reaches for your bangs, gently combing them back into place with his fingers and your heart races. There. There’s the thing between you again. If he wasn’t already flushed from the liquor, you bet his ears would colour cutely. 

Feeling your whole body combust at the intimate gesture, you drink the rest of the lukewarm coffee in one go. If you weren’t at work if there were no ban… You’d scratch that itch. You kissed at that Christmas party and you know you’re doomed to do it again. You just didn’t think you’d crave it so soon. Seeing you shoot the alcohol, Chan’s eyes darken, lips pressing into a thin line.  

"Dark?” Humming his approval in the mic of his headset, he moves to press you against the counter. Your surprise doesn’t seem to affect him much. “I see…” Chan gazes down at you through his eyelashes, palm climbing your hip and waist slowly. He must have lost his damn mind. “Yes,” he breathes out ludicrously serious, “I understand it is very frustrating. We should do something about it.” Is he talking about you two or to the person at the other end of the line? “Have you tried turning it on and off again, Janice?” Nevermind. Despite the situation, you can’t help but chuckle at the sheer plain mockery in his tone. 

When you try to slide away to safety, Chan expertly prevents your escape, smirking. You hate him. You hate how he knows you won’t resist. Hate that you can’t do anything, just remain stunned, wishing for more. His hand has stopped, fitting the curve of your waist perfectly. His thumb is on the side of your stomach and you can feel him through your thick shirt. Maybe it’s all those years just looking at each other because even this little is much. You feel light-headed and not from the whiskey. 

“Fantastic. You’ll just need to reenter your Intranet password after the restart.” Chan’s face is still sliced up in two. “It might take a while… Of course, I’ll hold the line.” His eyes glimmer of mischief when he pushes the mute button, it’s clear what he has in mind now. “Hey. This is nice.”

"This is not allowed,” you hush as if someone could hear, aware neither of you cares anymore, “and you are woozy.” 

Chan shakes his head, “I was when we were under the mistletoe, but you were perfectly sober.” You’re still holding on to the mug and it presses against your chest when he leans closer. “Yet, you kissed me.”

“I kissed you back.” You correct, making him scoff.

"Debatable.”

“I’m surprise you even remember.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been obsessing over that moment for two years.” You bite your lower lip to avoid smiling. You can’t believe he just said that, he shouldn’t. You’ve been there too. “It doesn’t help that you’re doe-eye lusting after me every damn day. I’m trying to get some work done here, y/n.” Sarcastic, he lets out a hollow chuckle when your mouth falls open in awe. 

“I do not.” You opt to lie and protest but then change strategy. If he’s going to be a tease, so can you. “What about all the inadvertent feet brushing under the desks?”

“Oh yeah, not accidental at all.” Chan snaps back, brazen, “I just love that you gasp every single time I touch you.”

That’s exactly what you do just then, gaze wide. “You’re crazy!” There’s no way he’s actually saying all that aloud. He’s lost it. You might be alone but you’re still in the office. 

“You kissed me,” he counterattacks. 

“I kissed you back. You can’t tell me these things. We aren’t supposed to be like that.” 

“I know you like it when I wear white shirts. I’m also aware you park your car next to mine on purpose to walk together. You stare a lot, but I do too. It makes me hot the way you toy with your hair when you’re on the phone. I’ve been bribing Yang for a year to send us on break at the same time, I take all his worst calls. Should I not say all of that either?“ 

“Chan,” you groan, ears burning up. 

“Relax, let loose. It’s cute. We’re cute.” His smile hasn’t faltered and it only widens at your bashfulness. “Oh come on, we both knew this would happen from the moment you kissed me.”

“You kissed me.” Incredulous, you can’t conceal your excitement anymore. You knew he felt it too, but you didn’t think he’d be one to suggest sneaking around. He usually likes to stick to the rules.

“If you say so,” Chan rolls his eyes, “I was going to do it again anyway.” Pausing, he studies your reaction. You’re still trapped against the counter, gazing up at him. “Tonight. I’m taking you out.” Your toes curl at the idea. 

“Maybe I have plans,” you oppose jokingly, knowing very well he isn’t going to fall for it. 

“Are you saying no?” He side glances at the empty office, amused. “I was going to kiss you at the stroke of midnight. I think that’s the right way to start the New Year.” You’re about to reply something witty when Chan reaches for his headset. “Yes, I’m still here.” Giggling, you drop your head, having forgotten all about the woman from accounting in his ears. “You need to enter the intranet password… Yours, yes. I certainly hope you don’t ever use my login, Janice.” There’s a faint laugh at the other end of the line. Winking, Chan reaches for the mug between you, discarding it on the counter. His thumb on your waist begins to rub tiny circles as his free hand climbs your neck, caressing your jawline and making you shiver. Flirtatious, he tilts your head so you are fully looking up at him. It’s not unfamiliar, remnant of that night under the mistletoe, still, butterflies soar in your stomach. “Fantastic. I’m glad I could help…” Feeling him up, your fingers slide up his shirt, tracing his collarbones through the fabric and his shoulders. You always dreamt of doing this and it’s way better than you imagined. “Yes, well… Happy New Year to you too, Janice.” Your touch gets more adventurous by the seconds. “Bye…” Chan licks his lips, irides now devoid of any playfulness. "Oh, bloody hell,” he grunts suggestively when your hands find their way to his ass. You hope the woman has hung up, “It’s midnight somewhere.” 

This time there is no doubt about who initiates it. Chan kisses you, arms wrapping around to hold you firmly into him. There’s no hint of hesitance when you respond, abandoning yourself against his chest completely. You both know what you are doing, know what you want. Your mouth toys with his, hands lost in his curls messing them up and making his headset fall to the carpet floor. You struggle to catch a breath, unable to tame the urgency of your embrace. He doesn’t seem to mind, tongue tracing your lower lip over and over again. His kisses are ardent and needy, never breaking completely. The counter is digging your ass but you don’t mind. This is both blissful and disquieting, you didn’t expect this to be so intense. All of a sudden, Chan pulls away, leaving you feverish and beggared at the dearth.

“Fuck me dead.” He groans, oblong eyes wide and breathing irregular. The swear is barely a sound at all, almost inaudible despite the quietness of the empty office. 

“E-Excuse me?”

“We’re going to have to be a lot more discreet from now on,” he states, categorical like he isn’t the one who crossed the line in the first place. “I can’t be just friends anymore.”

Heart thumping, you smile at him; “But you can’t keep a secret for shit, Chan.”

Laughing, he kisses you. “I guess I’ll have to quit.” Humming against his mouth, you don’t immediately notice the way his hands creep up, getting rid of your own headset to play with your hair. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” you sigh, rapturous. There couldn’t possibly be a better way to start anew than this. “Are you still taking me out tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fantastic.”

Stray Kids | M.list

[zambie-trashart]

Dark Cupid: Rewritten Series

This one was the one where I slammed my head into my desk and almost gave up writing (I’ve only been a fanfic writer for like a week now) but I helped myself to think about the episode differently. I think I’m going to like how this turns out.

Read the whole series

Summary: Jon writes valentine for Chat Noir that Adrien picks up after class and thinks is for Adrien not Chat. Marinette plans to tell Damian how she feels but gets held up when Dark Cupid attacks people in love, good thing she hates Robin.

...............................

Adrien kept looking over his shoulder and past everyone else to Jon who had his face stuck in a piece of paper. When the bell rang, he tossed it in the trash and Adrien picked it up. He then remembered what Robin had told him: as long as you ask him out you can keep seeing him, stop this game of cat and mouse, either ask him out or don’t.

Plagg looked at the paper. “Gross, looks like he’s got a crush on Adrien kid,” Plagg said before throwing some cheese down his black hole that was where his mouth should be.

“Your hair shines like the sun, your eyes are gorgeous green. I look at you and wonder your innermost thoughts and dreams. Your valentine I hope to be, our love could be so true, my heart belongs to you,” Adrien read off smiling.

“Jon never showed any interest in you before though,” Plagg said thoughtfully.

“Way to boost my ego Plagg but, who else could he have been talking about?”

...............................

Jon sat in Marinette’s room trying to calm down his cousin.

“You said it yourself, Damian Wayne doesn’t do Valentine’s Day! If I give him a Valentine then... I’ll be rejected for sure!” Alya walked up the stairs.

“Damian isn’t that cruel, God he’s not Robin Mari,” Jon said hugging his cousin and waving at Alya over her shoulder. “I sort of have my own thing to do today though so I’m just going to...” Jon pointed to the trap door and walked down the stairs.

...............................

Chloe was walking down the bridge and saw Kim waiting for her. She didn’t have time for this, she had to get her poster signed by Superboy finished and in her gold frame. 

He asked her out and it was a cold rejection. Kim was heartbroken and was akumatized into Dark Cupid. He saw Jon Kent walking down the street on his phone and realized that this was the boy that loved everyone. “He has too much love in his heart, now he’ll hate everyone!” Dark Cupid yelled shooting Jon with an arrow.

Adrien was walking down the street saying random things to respond to Jon’s poem.

“Aw is someone upset that they can’t finish their poem for their sweetheart with glasses?” Plagg asked eating more cheese.

“I don’t need to write a poem if I can just say it right to his face, Jon, I love you,” Adrien said dreamily. Adrien was pushed over a second later by a random person and saw a man in the sky. “That’s not good.”

...............................

Marinette stood outside of the Lahiffe’s and knocked on the door. Nino answered the door. “Hey what’s up dude?” 

“Um, is Damian here?” Marinette asked secretly hoping that he would say no. The longer she stood at the door the less she wanted to do this.

“He’s actually out, you just missed him. He said he was headed over to your place to talk to Jon about something,” Nino shrugged.

“Thanks Nino,” Marinette said before grabbing Alya and dragging her down the street and then her friend was shot.

“Alya!”

“Damian will never love you, he’s going to laugh at your lame attempt at romance!” Alya said laughing before running away. Marinette looked up into the sky and saw someone flying and shooting arrows.

Marinette transformed and ran toward the akumatized person and saw Robin dodging arrows and slicing them with his sword.

“Friend of yours Robin?” Ladybug asked and Robin stared at her and an arrow came flying at him. She ran over and pushed him out of the way, getting hit for him. Her lips turned black. Robin looked down and saw Chat chasing after Jon who seemed to be changed too.

At least someone was looking after him. He remembered something that they were learning earlier in class about true love.

“Oh. God. No,” Damian said to himself. Ladybug had gotten up and was now running after Chat who was running after Jon. Damian took a second to laugh at the irony, normally Jon wouldn’t run from a blonde boy and now he was running from not only a blonde but the blonde that he loved.

Robin got up and threw small throwing knives at Dark Cupid who turned around and sicked Ladybug on him.

“I hate you!” she yelled and Damian started running knowing that she would chase him. They ended up in front of a fountain.

Ladybug went to kick Damian but he grabbed her leg and threw her to the ground. “Trust me, I’m not looking forward to this either,” Damian said grabbing her wrists and pulling her up. He held one arm and his other hand cupped her face before kissing her.

He pulled away fast and she looked around confused. “What happened?” Ladybug asked wide eyed.

“We’ll talk later, right now we have to stop Dark Cupid. Position... right you’re not Superboy. You take right I’ll go in from above,” Damian said rolling his eyes.

“Whatever bird boy,” Ladybug said laughing. Damian pounced on Dark Cupid and held him down as they destroyed the pendant. Ladybug held out her fist for a fist bump. “Oh right, you’re not Chat,” she said winking.

...............................

During all of that, Chat and Jon were still on a wild chase. Chat had Jon pinned with his foot against a wall.

“Let me go you mangy stray!” Jon yelled. Chat thought for a moment on how to fix Jon. True love’s kiss, but Robin would kill him cause... “I hate you!” Jon yelled. Chat grabbed Jon by the waist and neck and kissed him. Half a second later, the ladybugs fixed everything and Jon opened his eyes and saw Chat and felt Chat and... oh Rao. 

Jon pushed Chat back and looked up at him. 

“Sorry, I kind of had to do that to fix you, I’m just gonna go,” Chat said before jumping up onto a roof and running away. Jon was still standing there five minutes later.

“God damn blondes,” Jon muttered and walked back to Marinette’s house.

...............................

“So, did you do it Mari?” Jon asked. Marinette sat in her chair with her head pounding against her desk. “I guess not then,” Jon said laughing.

“Jon, dear, you have a valentine in the mail!” Sabine called from the entrance to Marinette’s room.

“Thanks Aunt Sabine,” Jon said taking the black paper. Jon started for the balcony.

“Aren’t you going to let me read it too?” Marinette asked and Tikki was by her side laughing at his embarrassment.

“Never,” Jon said flying up to the overhang. He opened the card and there was light green writing on the paper. “Your hair as dark as night, your pretty sapphire eyes. I wonder who you are beneath that strong disguise, every day we see each other and I’m glad that you’ll be mine. Together our love will be so true, of course I’ll be your Valentine.” Jon was freaking out. “It isn’t signed.”

“It’s a sweet poem though,” Marinette said behind Jon making him jump a little. “How is it that you have super hearing but you can always get scared when anyone sneaks up behind you?” Marinette asked before a small meow was heard. 

A black cat walked across the balcony. “You don’t think...” Marinette started but Jon was too far gone to care now.

“He loves me,” Jon said staring off into space.

“You really are a blonde lover,” Marinette said making Jon chase after her.

...............................

“Do you think he got your letter?” Plagg asked. There were footsteps behind him and Robin was standing there.

“The card that you didn’t sign? Jon thinks that he got a card from Chat Noir but it wasn’t signed so he can’t be sure,” Robin said smirking at Adrien.

“Well, you made out with Ladybug,” Adrien accused.

“To save her, I know she doesn’t like me so I can take the rejection. You on the other hand better not screw this up,” Robin said before disappearing.

“You really forgot to sign the card?” Plagg asked.

“Well, now I know that even without signing it, he loves me. Plus it was a long day,” Adrien said before falling back on his bed. “He loves me.”

...............................

hope that was enjoyable cause that took forever to work out!

@loveswifi @ash-amg @mochegato @wannajointhecrabcult

[ourcollectivefantasy]

OC Profile

The Basics ––– –

Age: 480 (Human equiv. 48)

Birthday: October 18th. 

Star Sign: Scorpio.

Race: Sin’Dorei / Blood Elf

Gender: Cisgender Male

Face / Body Claim: Ewan McGregor

Marital Status: Married, but separated [for over 10 yrs]. No plans for divorce.

Relationship practice: Polyamory

Server: Wyrmrest Accord - Horde (Faction Neutral)

Physical Appearance ––– –

Wardrobe: 80s London Punk. Black on black, otherwise greyscale or muted, cool colours. Studded leather jackets, spiked combat boots, vintage punk rock band t-shirts. Prefers solids with classic lines. Almost all clothes are second hand from Charity Shops.

Hair: Bright ginger. Short faux-hawk style with long sideburns. In the Winter months, keeps a trim beard.

Eyes: Emerald green.

Height: 6′7″

Build: Swimmer/Jogger's athletic, slim build. Slightly under weight but muscled.

Common Accessories: Wears lots of rings of bone, metal, and stone on his fingers. A plethora of necklaces and bracelets on each wrist. Carries a Dwarven vintage carved silver cigarette case & matching lighter. Never without his comm and his motorcycle keys. Concealed throwing daggers in inside jacket pocket, as well as a coil of steel guitar strings, and full dagger in his boot, always. Wears a small silver hoop earring in right ear.

Distinguishing Marks: Sprayed with freckles all over his body and face. Missing both middle fingers. Thin white scar across his throat (affects his voice; graveled). Silver coin sized scars on fronts and backs of hands and feet. Banishment symbol burned into his chest. Small K scar over his heart; large K scar on right shoulder. 

Tattoos: Small sound wave behind left ear. Maiden’s Anguish at base of throat/along trapezius. Pirate ship (enchanted) on left bicep. Two birds holding banner that says ‘BAD SEED’ over a skull on right bicep. Troll-style boa constrictor wraps from right knee, up thigh, and across hip. Small gypsy clan symbol (skull ontop of a rose) on lower back.   

Personal ––– –

Profession: Founder and CEO of Blacksong Records.

Hobbies: Partying - frequent patron of Succulent Tart, Howling Owl, and Red Moon. Recreational drugs & drinking. All things music: goes to punk rock concerts, buys and trades vintage records, plays mech-guitar, repairs broken guitar pedals and amps. Riding and repairing motorcycles. Extreme sports, primarily stunt biking and surfing.  

Languages: Traveler (Native), King’s Common, Dwarven, Thalassian, Orcish Common, Sign Language.

Residence: Lordaeron Coast, and sometimes Silvermoon. 

Birthplace: Quel’Thalas

Religion: Mildly Old Ways/Traveler (Pagan).

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Kharris Dawndancer-Blacksong

Dating: Aelberyn & Jericho Bloodsword (Primaries), Saeil Moonblade, Se’lysona Riverblade. 

Children: Aelenna Sinead “Sean” Bloodsword & Fib Bloodsword, both almost 5 yrs.

Parents: Maebh Blacksong & Daigh Blacksong (deceased).

Siblings: Younger brother, Kieran Blacksong.

Other Relatives: One female younger cousin, Fox. Status unknown.

Sex & Romance ––– –

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Preferred Role: Dominant | Submissive | Switch

Preferred Position: Bottom | Top | Vers

Libido: Extremely High

Turn ons: Power, confidence, high intelligence, witty sense of humor, empathy, submissiveness, great conversation, flirty.  

Turn offs: Trying-too-hard, mind games, wall flowers, air heads, big egos, pretty but no substance, bad conversationalists, people that only talk about themselves, drama queens, brats.

Love Language: Quality Time & Physical Touch

Kinks:  BDSM, WAM, leather & latex, sensory deprivation, mask play, blood play, knife play, age or pet play, dirty talk, phone sex & sexting, being watched/performing or watching, sharing/group sex, cuckolding, orgies, sex clubs, casual sex.

Relationship Tendencies: Prefers casual sex and FWB. Romance adverse, and very selective about who he gets into commitments with. Once committed, stays in relationships a very long time and plays the emotional role of Dominant, with a focus on care giving and very protective.

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open-Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Often. Smokes mainly bloodthissle. Drugs: Often. Very into party drugs. Long history of struggle with heroin. Alcohol: Often. “Defaults” to functioning alcoholic, but can get crazy at parties.

RP Hooks ––– –

Music Fans - He runs a small but successful punk rock music label. If you’re into rock, punk, or even just a music fan, you’ve probably heard of Blacksong Records or even one of his bands. You may even know his face from music magazines; he’s often in the background at concerts or industry parties. Feel free to mention it!

Pirates & Sailors - He used to run a very successful and well known salvage company (Atlas Treasure Salvage, or ATS). They were well known in the Booty Bay, Bilgewater, and Orgrimmar ports. It’s possible you saw him around “in the old days”.

Drugs - He’s well connected among drug dealers as both a buyer and seller. Got a big party you want to sell to? He’s your in. Or maybe you’re looking for pure quality and tired of thugs selling you stems in the Drag? He’ll get you the good stuff if you’re willing to pay top coin.

Motorcycles - He’s a frequent shopper at gear head garages around Quel’Thalas. He also stops off at biker taverns for a pint on the way home from work. You may have seen him. Or maybe you just notice the brand of his jacket or boots are a familiar favourite amongst aficionados. 

Gossip Rags - Is your character SUPER into Silvermoon tabloids? Iloam is “reportedly” dating one of the hottest couples of the SMC Elite crowd, Baron & Baroness Aelberyn & Jericho Bloodsword. Paps frequently snap them slipping into vine covered cafes and exclusive night clubs. Your character may have a theory on the whole ‘are they or arent they’ debate that keeps socialites guessing on the trio’s relationships status.

OOC Info  ––– –

Mun is 21+ in age. Dark themes/ERP friendly.

I have been playing WoW since the beta for Vanilla and gone through many phases of enjoying PvE aspect (including a raiding guild), but at this point I only play for RP and have no interest in game play. I prefer Discord text RP for 1:1 or small group scenes. I generally only login to game for RP events or by request.

For text RP, I am very bad about forum style/casual post RP and will generally lose track of it quickly. I also try to stray from forum style post on Tumblr for the same reason. The best way to RP with me to set a date/time to both login to Discord or game and set aside several hours to write out a scene together.

I’m a very fast typer and tend to do multi-para for scene sets only, and then fall into a more natural rhythm as the scene plays out. I do not ask that partners match my post length.

Communication is very important to me. OOC discussion of dark themes or comfort level with ERP will be discussed first. I am happy to FTB or avoid topics that are triggering. I also ask that my partners always feel comfortable letting me know if for any reason big or small, they need to cancel a scene or are not feeling up to it. Real life will always come first.

Contact Information  ––– –

@ourcollectivefantasy​ is Iloam’s In-Character blog, shared with characters of Aelberyn and Jericho Bloodsword.

@blacksongrecords​ is Iloam’s record company blog. Look here for event announcements!

All follows from my OOC blog @desolatedangel. 

I am reachable in-game via mail on the name: Ilóam

Feel free to send me an ask or message for my Discord handle, but if we haven’t met before I prefer we mutually follow each other’s Tumblr and interact a little bit before giving that out.

[gatorsnot]

a bunch of personal warriors headcanons because why tf not

kinda a long post so check them out below the cut!

- “brat cat” is a derogatory term for a kittypet. the kittypet stereotype falls into two categories: the “fat and lazy” types that are most frequently brought up in canon and the “spoiled, holier-than-thou” types that openly denounce clan cats and other ferals because they don’t have the “alliance” with twolegs that allows them to be fed and protected by them. these “brat cat” kittypets are the smug assholes that look down their noses at the clans because their beloved owners chase them off with brooms for being “lowly, unbecoming strays” that have to actually HUNT for their food and FIGHT for their turf while THEY just have the luxury of having it all handed to them. undoubtedly more likely to taunt the clan cats into a fight but they definitely get cold paws and the last minute and fuckin bounce because they’re humongous cowards that just like to talk big

- cinderpelt has the doofiest, purest smile than could brighten anyone’s day. she gets it from her dad lionheart

- whitepaw got teased a lot at her first gathering because the other apprentices found out she was brightheart’s daughter and would LOUDLY and OBNOXIOUSLY shout awful shit like “mutant spawn incoming!!” and “UGH i wouldn’t DARE show MY face at a gathering or even on a PATROL if MY mother looked like THAT” and birchpaw just strolled up and was like “haha yeah and if you keep saying that shit you won’t have to worry about showing your face anywhere because i’LL CLAW IT OFF” 

- darkstripe admired tigerstar so much because he was the only kit in the nursery during his youth and tawnyspots was too sick to spend much time with him. like, he admired tigerclaw a great deal because he was constantly trying to show off how strong and cool he was and while the warriors mostly got annoyed with him and the apprentices always made fun of him, tigerclaw mostly just...tolerated him more than the others (perhaps out of a bit of pity because his father was never around for him either and he was the only kit in the nursery once, though he’d never admit this out loud). once darkpaw became tigerclaw’s apprentice the pitying definitely came to a halt because darkpaw turned out to be a poor fighter and sub par hunter, but was very cocky and just tried waaaay too hard to gain attention and praise in general, and as he gradually got better at things, the arrogance got to his head a lot more. needless to say, tigerclaw was IMMENSELY relieved once darkstripe became a warrior, only to be dismayed that darkstripe would always stick to him like a burr on his haunches regardless.

- runts aren’t necessarily considered helpless by default or lost causes by the clans. in windclan, they’re believed to be able to run much faster than their clanmates on the moor or become the best tunnelers. in thunderclan, they’re lighter on their paws and can sneak up on prey much quieter than their heavier counterparts. in riverclan, they’re very efficient swimmers and fishers that are especially good at diving. in shadowclan, they can chase frogs and rats and can be concealed better in shadowy areas of the marsh. all smaller-than-average cats are also praised in battle for their agility and speed, as their size makes them difficult targets. the only main concerns for them are illnesses being too hard for their bodies to fight off.

- firestar didn’t enjoy the kittypet life at all, but he did secretly miss his twolegs for a time and worried about them until he found out about them adopting hattie. their happiness was the most important thing to him even after he joined thunderclan.

- willowpelt didn’t conceive graystripe with patchpelt, but instead with a kittypet she had a classic summertime romance with. they ended their relationship on good terms after the father decided the kits would fare better as clan cats, and willowpelt raised graystripe alone without naming a father to the clan. everyone silently assumes that whitestorm sired graystripe (i just hate that the patch x willow thing...they’re siblings)

- the grief he felt after silverstream’s death (added on by the additional stress of his whole life catching up to him in his old age) very likely contributed to crookedstar’s death from greencough.

- swiftpaw had a really fantastic and close relationship with bramblekit and tawnykit as their half-brother, he always visited them and their mother in the nursery and played with them or brought them treats whenever he could. the pair were utterly destroyed when they learn that he was killed by the dogs.

- appledusk looked remarkably similar to crookedstar, hence why mapleshade targeted him specifically (tho it WOULD be interesting to wonder if she haunted reedshine’s kits and / or shellheart or at least attempted to...hmm)

- cloudtail’s kittypet name was “cotton” during the time he was sneaking to twolegplace for food as an apprentice (after his super fluffy white fur), pinestar’s was “dusty” after he left thunderclan (i know he refers to himself as “pine” at the end of his novella but i honestly doubt his owners called him that lmao; they named him that because he was dirty all the time), and graystripe’s was “pouncer” when he was captured (because of his numerous escape attempts and stuff)

- reena undoubtedly had a crush on talltail and wanted to be his mate, but she was perfectly fine after she put two and two together and realized that he loved jake and didn’t want to interfere with their happiness

- snowfur was completely and utterly disgusted by thistleclaw’s actions toward spottedpaw, and the first thing she does when spottedleaf dies and comes to starclan is apologize profusely for her former mate’s despicable behavior. spottedleaf tells her not to apologize for his atrocity and the two become quite good friends

- sunfall / sunstar had romantic feelings for moonflower and the two of them had always been close friends, but he ultimately respected her decision to be with stormtail. however, he did quietly disapprove of how emotionally distant he was towards his mate and daughters, as he never seemed to interact with them much or even seem to care that he had a family. after moonflower’s death and stonepelt’s early retirement, sunfall directly asked pinestar if he could have bluepaw, feeling that he owed it to the late moonflower to ensure that her kit had the best education. pinestar likely knew about his loyalty to the fallen warrior and his interest in her, so he agreed.

- brambleberry and echomist [nudge nudge lesbians in my stormstar au nudge nudge] DEFINITELY took on the roles of being crookedstar’s adoptive mothers after rainflower disowned him

- breezepelt is a very good daddy to smokehaze, brindlewing, woodkit/paw, and applekit/paw as he always had the desire to be a better parent than crowfeather ever was to him [yes...i read crowfeather’s trial and know all that went on, but still]. his relationship with heathertail is ridiculously dorky in private, since he’s always had a soft spot for her

- sometimes cats with some kind of plant in their name [stuff like “leaf”, “flower”, “stem”, “branch”, “petal”, and so on you get the drill] try to have a piece of whatever plant from their namesake in their fur somewhere [ex: hollyleaf had a holly berry and leaf tucked in by her ear, goldenflower had the stem and flower of something woven around her tail, so on and so forth]. cats with feather or bird prefixes or suffixes try to do the same with feathers

- there’s an old myth that says kits born on the night of a full moon are suspected to grow up and become leaders someday. some cats believe this to be true, while others don’t

- as it is stated that cats must fast during their journeys to the moonstone and moonpool, it is considered a sin to kill prey at both sites. for example, if a cat were to kill a mouse or something in the caves of mothermouth or around the moonpool, their kill is considered to be pollution of the sacred ground and is to be promptly discarded somewhere else, as it would be considered insulting to starclan if they eat it. punishments for breaking this rule depend on the medicine cat or the leader.

- killing a medicine cat is like, one of the WORST atrocities any clan cat could do. it’s as horrific and treasonous as killing a leader, as the medicine cat not only keeps the clan healthy, they also communicate with starclan. imagine someone walking up and killing some sort of religious leader right in front of their congregation. pretty heinous, right? exactly the clans’ point. the only reasons a medicine cat would be killed was if they were intentionally committing treason against their clan [intentionally causing harm through malpractice or intentionally sending false signs from starclan] or if they were gravely ill or injured themselves to the point where they would be better off put out of their misery

- female leaders and deputies can indeed have kits of their own. mothers who happen to be leader usually keep her litters inside the leader’s den instead of moving to the nursery; it’s private, warm, clean, and well-protected. leader mothers can still partake in regular duties such as arranging patrols and hunting parties, addressing the clan, and holding ceremonies, and either has another queen look after her kits should she be absent for some occasion [like a gathering] or leave them with their father if he is involved. deputy mothers, while they most often end up going to the nursery since they usually sleep in the warriors’ den, can also carry out their own duties while another queen looks after her kits in her absence. all that matters is that the kits are loved and properly cared for.

-  as for the unnamed diseases that have killed characters, here’s my takes: tawnyspots died of feline leukemia, pebblefur and shellheart died of stomach cancer, sweetpaw died from complications caused by intestinal parasites (very likely worms that resulted in a blockage), leopardstar died of diabetes (confirmed), ravenpaw died of liver cancer (confirmed), goosefeather died of encephalitis (inflammation of the brain usually caused by infection, confirmed), petalfall died from epilepsy (confirmed), and dandelionkit, mistkit, and nightkit died of fading kitten syndrome (essentially the cat version of failure to thrive). i also think the whitecough is a chest cold, greencough is pneumonia, and that yellowcough could’ve very possibly been feline distemper, but idk

- adoption is considered very noble. i personally really fucking hate the attitude of characters who were adopted finding out and being like “i have been BETRAYED...i can’t believe these ABSOLUTE SCUM loved me, raised me, fed me, protected me, when they were NEVER even related to me by BLOOD? absolutely despicable, i must find my REAL parents and be loved by THEM instead...even if they are total assholes or want nothing to do with me...i can’t believe i was stupid enough to believe these IMPOSTORS were ever really my parents...” it’s just a really stupid mindset?? taking in another’s kits for whatever reason (the mother dies, the parents didn’t want kits, etc.) is considered a great service on the same level as raising their own biological kits. now whether or not said kits grow up and want to confront their birth parents about giving them to someone else or want to know them better is entirely up to them. the clans see adopted kits are better than abandoned ones that could very easily die from exposure or predators, or going through the possibility of them living in an abusive situation because they weren’t wanted or were unable to be cared for correctly.

- speaking of kits, the reason we have the standard “one to four” litter sizes is that overpopulation would be a problem. the average queen in real life can give birth to three to five kittens in a litter, which isn’t too far off from the quantity in the warriorsverse, but also bear in mind real queens can have as many as TEN kittens in a single litter and occasional more. think about it: the mother would need to eat a lot to produce enough milk for numerous mouths; the kits will grow older and want to explore, and there’s a very high risk of one of them slipping out of camp unnoticed and getting into trouble or danger if they’re from a large litter; plus they’ll wean from their mothers and move on to fresh-kill, and a stampede of ten or so hungry kits is going to leave hardly anything for anyone else in the clan, even if they share their food (not to mention, large litters would undoubtedly suffer the greatest during famine, outbreaks of disease, or prey shortages...that’s a lot of bellies to fill and illnesses spread quickly). so tbh i can see where the erins are coming from with the smaller litter sizes in the series, as we all know feral cats are notorious breeding machines

- i do have a few names picked out for kits and apprentices that didn’t live to be warriors, so here’s a few: mosskit would’ve been named mossheart (after her father, oakheart); swiftpaw would’ve been either swiftclaw, swiftstream, swiftwing, or swiftwind; ravenpaw would’ve been ravenflight or ravenswoop (i know he didn’t die but yknow, fun to speculate); sweetpaw would’ve been sweetberry or sweetsong; shrewpaw would’ve been shrewstep; wishkit and hopekit would’ve been wishlight and hopeshine; mistkit and nightkit would’ve been mistfur and nightstone; seedpaw would’ve been seedfern; molepaw would’ve been molenose; gorsepaw would’ve been gorsefire (named after firestar); willowkit and minnowkit (silverstream’s sisters) would’ve been named willoweyes and minnowclaw; snowkit would’ve been snowcloud; finchkit (tallstar’s sister) would’ve been finchfeather; marigoldkit and mintkit would’ve been marigoldleaf and mintfoot; lynxkit would’ve been lynxfang; adderkit would’ve been adderthroat; blossomkit would’ve been blossomsnow; and juniperkit and dandelionkit would’ve been junipertail and dandeliondust.

- darktail was a HUMONGOUS mama’s boy. he loved smoke with all his heart, would’ve done anything for her, and all he wanted in life was to make her proud of him. smoke was also a pretty good mother to him, feeling like she had to make up for her mistake of mating with a clan cat and fawning over darktail because he was the only survivor of the litter. i like to believe that smoke struggled with mental and emotional issues after being rejected by onewhisker/star, and would go off on furious tangents about how horrible clan cats were. darktail grew up watching smoke have these episodes, so he learned to hunt and fight and practiced really hard to she would be happy. needless to say, he was completely crushed when smoke died and mourned her heavily for a long time, and said grief undoubtedly contributed to him pushing so hard to abolish the clans.

- thornclaw and blossomfall were never actually in love, they only had kits together because blossomfall wanted some and thornclaw was getting older and wanted to contribute before he retired to the elders’ den

- brokenstar’s regime was a lot, and i mean a LOT crueler than what the readers were delivered:

she-cats were forced to get pregnant as often as possible, even if they weren’t interested. as soon as their bodies were able to bear more kits after the birth of one litter, brokenstar ensured that they would mate and be impregnated again asap. queens were often overwhelmed by having numerous kits to care for at a time, both older and younger, which led to much neglect the majority of the time. not that brokenstar cared, because to him, more kits meant more warriors. the stolen kits also added to the hoarding. infertile she-cats were often exiled for “not contributing to shadowclan’s destiny of greatness”.

speaking of stolen kits, i like to think that he ordered shadowclan to steal some windclan kits before driving them out of the forest. these kits didn’t fare very well, as they were smaller and skinnier and not as hardy as shadowclan kits, and many of them died save a few. it’s unknown if the stolen kits that did survive brokenstar’s reign ever returned to windclan or spent the rest of their lives in shadowclan since they spent so long there and would struggle to relearn living on the moor.

cats were forbidden from hunting for fresh-kill, as brokenstar believed that all physical and mental energy should be focused on fighting and fighting alone. in the place of prey, they often ate garbage and the carcasses of already-dead animals they found. needless to say, this left everyone prone to illness and nearly all of shadowclan was severely malnourished.

runningnose was forced to present false prophecies and omens to the clan because brokenstar and his main goons forced him to. they were all talk of how shadowclan would rule the forest, all the other clans would fear and serve them and see them as superior in every way. while only brokenstar and his team of muscleheads believed him (and some kits / younger apprentices who were too little to know any better), nearly everyone knew these signs were bullshit. 

fighting among clanmates was nearly constant. most of it was brutal battle practice, while other times it was over pitiful scraps of rotten food or disagreements over how the clan was running. usually cats that tried to leave or go for help were killed or “disappeared”.

- quince went searching for tiny / scourge after she saw that he had run away. she encountered the same two kittypets who warned him not to go into the woods, and explained that he hadn’t listened to them. quince then went into the forest and finally caught scent of her son’s blood and found his bell, and assumed that the clan cats she also smelled in the area had killed him.

- smudge honestly considered following rusty into the forest to join the clans with him despite being terrified of them, as he feared for his best friend’s safety and was heartbroken that he decided to leave. the only reason he didn’t is because he also was worried that his twolegs would miss him and that the clans wouldn’t accept him.

- heathertail and kestrelflight are sister and brother, being born to onestar and whitetail.

- before the whole fire fiasco, ashfur was very, VERY pissed to see that squirrelflight had supposedly gotten pregnant by brambleclaw. when jaykit, hollykit, and lionkit were born and suckled by ferncloud, he ending up straining his relationship with his sister by being very against it, using the whole “brambleclaw’s father killed our mother” thing as a reason why she shouldn’t be caring for them. ferncloud knew that her brother had taken squirrelflight’s rejection very poorly, but she never expected him to take it out on a litter of kits, so she cut ties with him. “those kits should’ve been mine anyway” and “they’ll turn out just like tigerstar” were things often muttered under ashfur’s breath. needless to say, he was less than thrilled to find out he would be mentoring lionpaw, and we all know how their relationship turned out after awhile.

- as stated in canon, daisy and spiderleg’s relationship was never based on the fact that they loved each other; they both felt pressured to supply kits for the clan (daisy because she was tired of some cats thinking she was just there to take up space and made assumptions about her loner roots, and spiderleg because he simply felt that it was his duty). they had a one-night stand, which resulted in toadstep and rosepetal.

- sleekwhisker was like, no doubt trying to force her way to darktail’s side as his main lackey (which she kinda was in canon) and possibly his mate. it was a “love for power” sort of situation rather than her genuinely wanting a life with him, while i don’t think darktail looked at her even as the “boss’s favorite floozy” kind of girl. sleek was more focused on that sweet sense of superiority and control, and darktail likely knew that, so always shot down her advances. they both were pretty much after the same thing, sleekwhisker only kept up a facade of a blushing she-cat wanting a big, strong leader for a mate while darktail was basically more concerned with what he already had going for him, not love or hooking up. 

- bone is barley, violet. hoot / snake, and jumper / ice’s father. though he never actually spoke up about having kits, his sons’ striking resemblance to him and violet’s resemblance to a she-cat bone had been talking to kinda wrapped the question of their parentage among the bloodclan population pretty quickly. their mother fell ill and died unexpectedly, and bone was certainly never active in their lives, so he never stepped up to finish raising them. he didn’t really even care he had children or that his mate died, it was just something that happened. 

- i like to think that berrynose and poppyfrost accidentally ended up falling in love in the midst of helping each other get through the grief of losing honeyfern

- lizardstripe actually ENCOURAGED her kits to bully brokenkit when she wasn’t abusing him herself. she wanted to make it clear to him that he would NEVER be accepted into their family fold, and excused her litter’s behavior as them “toughening him up” since he had to learn to stand up for himself “as he’s got no family outside raggedpelt, it seems”. she was just a shit mother in general, not caring much for her own kits already but she sure as HELL wasn’t going to look after one that wasn’t hers at all. brokenkit was a little burden and pest to lizardstripe, and she wanted to drive that message home as hard as she could, not once stopping to think about the consequences...

[aparecium-hq]

Welcome to Aparecium, Ro! You have been accepted for Scorpius Malfoy. We are thrilled to have, as you put it, a massive anti-hero, morally-grey character nerd among us! Your Scorpius has a lot of fun potential, and we can’t wait to see what you do with him. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Birthday (Age): 21 Gender (Pronouns): Male (He/Him) Sexuality: Currently still exploring and unsure. He knows he’s interested in men, but isn’t sure if it’s an exclusive thing and doesn’t feel confident enough for labels just yet. Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House/School: Ravenclaw Occupation: Healer (4th Year Apprenticeship) Faceclaim: Maxence Danet-Fauvel

Any requested changes? Not super explicitly a change exactly but, from the resources I’ve found, there doesn’t appear to be a lot of information on training involved in becoming a Healer. Wiki suggests that it’s all based on academics from regular school years, but I find this a little far fetched. I imagine there’d be some sort of training system in place at the hospital, not that different from the muggle world, so I’ve sort of assumed  a couple of years of what we would call ‘residency’ but I’m calling 'apprenticeship’ because that’s the old school guild way and feels wix-world appropriate? Anyway, let me know if there are any issues with this or if you want to discuss it further! Also, please note that any headcanons I form in the rest of my application regarding existing, playable characters, I can definitely tweak if the personality portrayal goes against future applicants! I make a few references to Albus, for example, that is sort of based on his personality in Cursed Child, as well as what I read in his bio. But if anything conflicts with how he is portrayed by who eventually plays him, I will obviously take that into account and accommodate.

Biography:

Having inadvertently become the best friend of Albus Potter, he never really had the opportunity to complain about the challenges of growing up the son of Draco Malfoy. Because obviously, growing up the son of Harry Potter (and then sorted into Slytherin, no less—cue gasps of shock and appall) was obviously a lot more immediately arduous. And Scorpius is and has always been an empathetic person. Some people (sometimes even his father, when he got cranky) had coined that particular trait as being a bit of a push over, but Scorpius liked that he put the needs and considerations of others before his own.

So he had no regrets about how he more often than not, kept those particular thoughts to himself. But it did get frustrating sometimes, especially as a kid. Because it would seem that no matter how many years of post-war peace go by, they can never fully escape the discrimination (or, as his father likes to sarcastically call it, the 'hurt feelings’).

And it’s not at all that he didn’t have a good childhood. In a lot of ways, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Certainly, there were some… complications. A few particularly difficult years, being that he was a child of divorce, and had to adjust to bouncing back and forth between two separate households at a young age. But overall, he knows he’s one of the lucky ones. He has always felt loved, protected and supported. And though his parents were barely on speaking terms for the better part of the first few years after their divorce, they did their best not to involve Scorpius in their issues of discontent.

Despite all of that, he has always been a lot closer with his father, than his mother. Astoria is good to him and loving, but she was (somewhat surprisingly) less supportive of Scorpius’ straying from tradition when it came to being sorted into Ravenclaw, and his relationships with the Potter-Weasley clan. Draco, despite his persnickety temperament, had been Scorpius’ influence of patience, ambition and most importantly, tolerance. From the conversations they’ve had over the years, Scorpius is beginning to understand that his father still holds a lot of resentment for the expectations that were forced upon him as the only Malfoy heir of his generation, especially with things that went on during the war. To this day, however, it’s a bit like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle because Draco often refuses to discuss the war.

When it comes to politics, Scorpius is by no means opposed to muggleborn equality—obviously—and he can even hypothetically be supportive of the introduction of muggle technology. But he was raised by parents who were absolutely against the absurd idea of abolishing the Statue of Secrecy, and Scorpius has to admit he agrees with them. Even his father, who is generally a lot more empathetic to muggle and muggleborn related politics than Astoria, firmly believes dissolving the Statue of Secrecy would only lead to another war, perhaps even uglier than the last.

A typical Ravenclaw, Scorpius very much enjoyed school, and now that he’s out in the 'real world’, even though he's  had a few years to adjust, he still sometimes feels a little lost in it. He misses the reliable comfort of being a student, of having constant mentors and structure available to him, and the leniency of not having to make and stick to decisions regarding his future. He followed in his fathers footsteps and pursued Healing, which he has to admit feels relatively right, but still, he’s never been as good under fire as his father, nor as unflappably resilient and ambitious. He wants to be good, and he wants to make a difference and make his parents proud—but there are times he really struggles not to crumple under the pressure of it all.

And then there was Rose. Merlin, he has so many regrets about how things went with Rose—his other best friend. He’d known they should probably never have dated. He’d known, and even Albus had tried to warn him, but at the time Scorpius had just dismissed Albus’ concerns as his “annoying cynicism” talking. And to be fair, Albus really could be quite cynical sometimes.

But as it turns out, he was right. He was really, really right, because the (astoundingly brief) relationship had been a total bust, and even though he and Rose had agreed in advance not to let the attempt at romance come between their friendship should it not work out, Scorpius made that promise a difficult one to keep when he cheated on her with a young man in his apprenticeship program at St. Mungo’s, and she found out. He knows it’s his fault, he does—but he misses her intensely and he wants to find a way to win back her trust and respect.

Plus, it’d be great if he could finally get Albus to stop with the 'I told you so’ tirade.

Character Questionnaire

What does your character value in a friendship? Scorpius’ friends mean everything to him. Though he can be something of an introvert (strong Ravenclaw vibes), he is prone to getting lonely without the company of those few people dearest to him. The ones who know him best and with whom he can share anything. He finds he’s frequently looking to his friends for advice, or their perspective on something he’s feeling particularly indecisive or uncertain about, so he definitely values honesty in that regard, and someone he feels safe being open with about his fears. He also values patience, and inquisitiveness, and he has a harder time with people who are hot-tempered or quick to anger. Which… did make his relationship with Albus a complicated one, especially at first, but by the same token, he also really admires people who are passionate and decisive—perhaps because it embodies traits he wishes he could see more of in himself.

How would your character describe their own work ethic? Is that an accurate measure of themself?

If there is one thing Scorpius inherited above all else from his father, it’s his work ethic. Draco taught him to be a resilient, diligent student, and a reliable, focused worker. He taught him to take pride in his work, and to never settle for anythnig less than the best. This did generate some issues with Scorpius’ tendency towards being an obsessive perfectionist, which doesn’t actually bode particularly well for his softer sensibilities and his capricious sense of confidence, but otherwise he considers his work ethic one of his stronger attributes.

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them?

Probably sweet, warm, and a little shy. Scorpius generally gives off a good first impression because he is well mannered, friendly, and easy going. He much prefers making friends to enemies—but his first impression is usually limited to just that one dimension. Only those who know him better are exposed to his more anxious, self-conscious side, and his friends know he has a bright, almost sarcastic sense of humour that he undoubtedly got from his father. Often, new friends are taken a little by surprise by it.

Para Sample

He knew for a fact that his hair was standing every which way by the time Albus got home, thanks to his some-call-it-habit, others-call-it-tic, of tugging his fingers through it when he was bored. Or nervous. Or tired. Or hungry. And he also knew for a fact that there was a spot on his jumper from the bit of tea he’d spilled on it when he’d gotten home, and that his father would be less than impressed at his state of dress. But though there were a lot of things Scorpius got from his father, one apple that had fallen actually quite far from the tree, had been Draco’s sophisticated propensity.

Scorpius much preferred jumpers that were cozy and a bit too big, shoes that were comfortably worn-in, and rolling out of bed and more or less letting his hair do what it would, without too much fussing about. Sorry, Da.

And tonight, it was admittedly his boredom at fault for the bird’s nest state of his hair, perhaps helped by an undercurrent of anxiety that was pretty common now that Scorpius was getting on into his apprenticeship—and that had undoubtedly gotten worse since his falling out with Rose. And really, he tried not to talk about that whole debacle too much with Albus, because it seemed to make him a little uncomfortable, but Scorpius was prone to over-thinking (read: obsessing) and so it was a subject that was almost constantly simmering at the back of his mind.

Nonetheless, the sound of the door clicking open brought with it an intense wave of relief and excitement for Scorpius, because Albus was home, which meant someone to talk to, someone to distract him from thinking about work (because his father always told him to leave work at the door when he left, if he wanted to have any semblance of a life outside it), and perhaps someone to play a round of Wizard’s Chess with him. Though that usually took a fair amount of convincing, with Albus.

[lovelyladydarling]

task 001. dig a little deeper: lady darling edition

BASIC INFORMATION.

What is your character’s full name ? patricia elizabeth darling How is it pronounced ? puh-trih-shuh uh-liz-uh-bith dar-ling Is there a meaning behind it ? patricia means “noble” and is the female version of “patrick,” but it was a family name her mother gave her. lady was just something sweet they called her when she was younger and it stuck as a nickname over “pat” “patty” or “trish.”  Does your character have any nicknames ? lady, pidge (from tramp) When and where were they born ? december 24, 1993 in san francisco, california  What’s their zodiac sign and what traits do they most relate to ? capricorn. lady is very hardworking and responsible, but she’s aware she can be a bit distant at times when it comes to her more intimate relationships. she holds family very close to her--especially the family she’s made in carthay herself. she’s very stubborn, holds her own, and can definitely get a bit hot-headed at times.  What’s their nationality ? american. What’s their occupation ? jewelry model.  What gender do they identify themselves as ? cisgender female // she/her

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

What’s their eye color ? brown Do they wear glasses or contacts ? reading glasses, but not prescription Hair color ? caramel brown Have they ever dyed their hair or wanted to ? she gets highlights pretty often or goes darker, but never strays from brunette.  Height ? 5′6″ // 167.64 cm Body build ? tall & lean Do they have any birthmarks ? she has a small birthmark above her left hipbone. Do they have any piercings or tattoos ? ear piercings // no If not, do they want to get some ? she’s recently been wanting to get a small tattoo somewhere, but she’s not sure where.  Do they have a healthy life style ? she works out pretty frequently and tries to eat well, but carbs tempt her back every time she goes for a salad.  How easy do they get sick ? she catches colds pretty easily, but doesn’t often get really sick.  Any marks on their body ( injuries, … ) ? no permanent scars or injuries to speak of! she broke her arm once when she was 8 playing with the neighborhood kids, but that’s the only major injury she’s sustained throughout her 25 years.  What’s their personal style/how do they like to dress ? lady likes to dress in a sort of girly business casual style most of the time and will occasionally go for a more “laid back” look if she’s just out and about. she frequents sundresses when the weather is nice and switches her footwear between sandals, heels, or a classic pair of KED sneakers. she tries to dress comfortably but still keep everything chic enough to be photographed in, just in case.  What is their favorite and least favorite feature about themselves ? her favorite feature is her eyes and her least favorite would have to be her shape. she often feels like her body is too straight and narrow and wishes she had a few more curves. 

PERSONALITY.

Positive traits ? fun-loving, caring, loyal Negative traits ? jealous, stubborn, hot-headed What do they consider to be the best and the worst part of their personality ? lady considers her loyalty to her friends to be her greatest strength and has a hard time choosing between her extremely jealous nature and stubbornness as her worst. she’ll overtly deny her jealousy to people if they ask because she doesn’t want others to notice such a negative trait in her, but she knows it’s a big fault of hers.  Are they more extroverted or introverted ? lady is definitely an ambivert--she’s a bit of both. extroverted with her friends, introverted with strangers. she can’t strike up a conversation with anyone and prefers to keep to herself when out in public, but has no problem approaching a friend in a room full of strangers to talk.  Any talents ? lady is very good at painting, but doesn’t often share that with people.  What are their fears ? lady is terrified of ending up alone or not being enough for the people around her.  Do they have any phobias ? claustrophobia (small spaces) What is their soft spot ? lady has a huge soft spot for anyone that will bring her dinner and just sit and be with her, anyone who remembers small details she tells them, and puppies.  List 3 pet-peeves they can’t stand ? excuses for bad behavior, bailing on plans last minute, and calling people out via social media. 

EDUCATION.

How far did they go in school ? Are they still studying ? lady completed high school and went to study studio art in college, but ended up leaving after 2 years when her modeling career took off.  Do/Did they like school ? she really enjoyed college and would love to go back, or even just take a few classes for fun. high school was a take it or leave it thing for her--she didn’t mind it, but she wouldn’t choose to go back.  What type of student are/were they ? she’s always been a good student. she doesn’t cause trouble, she shows up on time, leaves on time, and turns in her assignments. she maintained a b+ to a average in high school and really threw herself into her college courses. she practically slept at the arts annex during portfolio review.  What is/was their favorite subject ? art was always her favorite subject, but she enjoyed history and english as well.  And their least favorite ? any sort of advanced math--trigonometry, calculus, etc.  What were they/would they have been voted as “most likely to…” in the yearbook ? lady was actually voted most likely to sell a painting by age 25, which was oddly specific to her but she wasn’t particularly close to many people in high school so she figured it was the best they could come up with. 

FAMILY.

Who are your character’s parents ? jim and ruth darling.  How would your character describe them ? lady hasn’t seen her parents in a while, as she was sent to live with her aunt sarah when she was 14 years old due to an incident with her younger brother. she loved her parents dearly and would drop anything she was doing to help them, even now. they were incredibly caring and protective of her and her brother, so she doesn’t fault them for doing what was best for him by sending her away.  Do they have any siblings ? one younger brother, 13 years her junior: noah darling. Are they close with their family ? she used to be, but now rarely hears from them save for a card on her birthday. she would still do anything for them if they needed her. 

ROMANCE & SEXUALITY.

What’s their romantic and sexual orientation ? heterosexual Are they seeing anyone right now ? james sullivan, for publicity sake.  Have they ever been in an relationship ? as long as hers and sulley’s counts, yes! otherwise, she doesn’t know if she’d consider any of her previous relationships as counting.  Have they ever been in love ? yes.  How easy do they fall for someone ? it takes a lot of work to really get lady to fall for someone. though she desperately wants a family of her own after hers imploded due to her carelessness, she’s very guarded because of it as well.  In their view, why didn’t any past relationships work out ? she’s been caught up in someone else.  What do they look for in someone ? she wants someone to put in even half the effort she knows she could give. she wants passion alongside the comfortable moments and the moments of “i can’t believe this part of my life.”  Do they believe in love at first sight ? or fate ? no, not particularly love at first sight...fate, perhaps. though she believes one can control their own fate if they so choose.  What’s their views on romance ? Do they go after it or avoid it ? lady loves the idea of romance, but she’s not sure on the logistics or how to get it. she doesn’t particularly like how her heart and her brain tell her different things.  Did they have their first time already ? How was it in their point of view ? yes and somewhat disappointing--some guy she dated in her first year of college for about 6 months that she grew tired of and broke things off with. she thought she loved him at the time, but realized it was only an infatuation.  What is their view on sex ? it’s fun, but she’s started thinking of it as something more as she’s gotten a little older. she’s not trying to save herself (that’s over & done with) but she does prefer to save sex for people she’s truly connected with and feels a deep love for.  What are their turn ons and turn offs ? turn ons, she prefers someone else taking control, longer hair, and breathy words. turn offs, she’s not a fan of someone grossly inexperienced, with poor hygiene, or a messy room (or wherever the sex is happening, honestly.)  Were they ever cheated on or have they cheated on someone ? to her knowledge, she’s never been cheated on. she may have kissed some other boy in high school while “dating” another boy, but she couldn’t have been more than 15. she’s never cheated in her adult “relationships.”  Do they want to get married in the future ? absolutely.  Have kids ? definitely. 

QUIRKS.

Are they right or left handed ? right handed.  What’s a word that’s always on their lips ? serendipity.  Is there a saying they keep on repeating ? don’t judge a book by its cover.  Do they curse ? when she’s particularly angry, yes.  What’s their worst habit ? jealousy.  Do they drink or smoke ? How frequently ? both occasionally, moreso when she’s left alone and doesn’t know how to handle what she’s feeling without being inebriated. that’s very rare, however, and she usually reserves her vices to a glass or two of red wine.  Are they an early bird or a night owl ? early bird.  How tidy is their room ? immaculate. lady loves having a place for all of her things. there’s hardly a shoelace out of place in her room.  How long to they usually take getting ready in the morning ? depends on what her plans are for the day, but her average routine takes about 25-30 minutes. it’ll go a bit longer if she has something planned with james, especially a nighttime outing. 

FAVORITES.

What’s their favorite color ? tiffany blue.  Favorite movie ? 10 things i hate about  you.  Music Genre ? pop? Food ? italian.  Book ? currently, meddling kids by edgar cantero Favorite non-alcoholic drink ? iced dirty chai latte Ice Cream Flavor ? neopolitan  Indoors or outdoors ? a bit of both. 

[latinverbis-archive]

STATS

FULL NAME Josephine Joyce Beford NICKNAME Jo ALIAS Heather Jones (pen name) SPECIES Human TYPE Witch (reformed) DOB June 24th, 1982 AGE 37 ORIENTATION Heterosexual RESIDENCE An apartment above Loaf Around OCCUPATION Small business owner (bakery); Author

PERSONALITY

The phrase, "Watch out for the quiet ones," couldn't more aptly describe Josephine. An introverted individual, not many know Jo is present because she is so quiet. She is content, most of the time, to be wrapped up in her thoughts on one supernatural species or another or one magical theory or another. She is a book nerd who is often found at the counter with one of her tomes or spell books at the front of the shop and those that do not know her well sometimes think she is cold or snobbish. This, in fact, couldn’t be further from the truth.

Jo, despite her previous actions and reputation, is probably the nicest, warmest person you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. She is very shy, however, but once you can break her out of her shell, she is a very pleasant conversationalist although you'll have to forgive her absent-mindedness. Because Jo is often pulled into her head, she has a tendency to lose her train of thought when another pushes it's way in so if she asks you to repeat information, try not to get too frustrated with the woman. However, should any of the coven come to her for help or advice, she is 100% devoted and attentive to that person. In fact, anyone coming to her for her assistance will get her undivided attention.

ABILITIES & SKILLS

As a capable leader of the Havenwood coven, Jo is extremely knowledgeable in an assortment of herbs, their properties, what they can do to help someone—or not—and knows of numerous spells that can be applied to a number of situations. She is more than capable of manipulating the four elements to her will, having more of an affinity to fire due to straying onto a dark path before finding her proper way again. Despite what a few in the coven will say of her, she's probably the best witch to come to for advice and help.

Even though one could say that Jo is nerdish, the coven leader is quite physically active. She runs several times a week and participates in rowing along with bird watching—a hobby she developed back in England. Jo is also a skilled writer and has her work published on the DL under the pseudonym, Heather Jones, a semi-popular romance novelist.

HISTORY

While many of the witches in Havenwood can claim a long lineage of witchcraft, Jo is not among them. The Bedfords didn't even come to the town until roughly the turn of the 20th Century—or so the claim is—and it was a handful of years after that, that Mae Bedford inherited the role of leadership in the coven. Since then, a Bedford descendant had held a seat of power in the Havenwood coven. Jo would come to be no different, but her road to leadership was a rocky one.

Born in 1982, it would come as a shock 18 years later when her family would discover the dark path she'd taken. However, before that time, one couldn't have met a nicer young lady. Jo, in her younger years, grew to be a very well-liked and thoughtful girl. She was the type of person that helped the neighbors and visited Old Mrs. Bryant every Sunday to play Gin and Slap Jack until she passed away when Jo was 10. It was a blow to the young lady, who had considered her a constant in her life. However, her passing wasn't just a blow to Jo, but one to the coven as well. The old woman had been a skilled witch among them and dispensed advice and teaching like it was candy, but she had focused much of her attention on her little neighbor who she knew would come to be a great and powerful witch. She had Seen it, but knowing that sort of information could go to anyone's head, kept the knowledge to herself in the hope the girl's parents, and the coven, could lead her to the right path.

While Jo had always been teased for being the teacher's pet or she'd been made fun of for being so helpful to others, she had up until that point been able to brush off the jabs to her character. However, after Mrs. Bryants passing, it became more and more difficult for Jo to keep her shield of confidence in place where there wasn't someone besides her parents telling her she was as good as, if not better, than those that put her down. There was no one to guide her when she stepped outside of the Bedford's home, no one that Jo was as comfortable at speaking her mind to than the old lady next door. She only had one friend in the coven her age and the rest of her friends wouldn't understand the mechanics of the coven were she to reveal her secret. By the time she was 13, she'd withdrawn from her best friend.

It was during that year when Jo had finally taken a full step toward a dark path. She'd been bullied again that day and as the jock walked away, the witch had furiously thought how funny it would be if the asshole tripped and fell in front of the whole school and broke something. In the next instant, it happened. Granted, Jo's entire wish didn't come true, but she was satisfied of the instant humiliation the older boy received after having just done the same to Jo. Over the next five years, Jo became less and less concerned about helping others and more and more about what her magic could do for herself.

She stole ingredients from The Nameless Page, got her hands on spell books that were considered too dark, spent hours secreted away in Miller's Wood reading, learning, and practicing any and all magic she could get her hands on. Jo became powerful. But, without another, more experienced witch guiding her, she lacked the complete control she'd learn by the time she would turn 18 and by then, her relationship with her parents—and the coven—had become strained to the point that major arguments tended to get magically out of control when Jo couldn't rein-in her anger or frustration. The summer after she graduated—barely—she nearly burned down the Bedford's home in a childish rage. Fearful that if she continued any longer, the Bedford's threatened expulsion from the coven if she didn't agree to be sent to England.

Jo agreed thinking she could slip away, but upon her arrival she was in for a rude awakening. The next four years were grueling on the young lady who resisted the coven's attempt to guide her out of the darkness, but after a year and a half of work, the coven was finally successful. Once Jo's issues came to light, her education became more fine-tuned and by 22, she gained the control and finesse someone her age and skill should possess. However, the hardest work was yet to come. Upon returning home, Jo received an understandably mixed welcome. Just as she did back in England, Jo worked hard—even more so—to repair the damage she had wrought in the coven.

But, despite making amends over the next few years, there were still those in the coven who were wary of the woman and protested when Meredith Bedford, Jo's mother, had to step down from her place as leader of the coven due to health reasons when Jo turned 27. Those who still did not trust Jo were extremely vocal about it, but through her actions, Jo has won most of them over. Only a few remain despite Jo's continued effort to prove herself.

gif source / edqeofglory