#let lily go kill the enemies of her family

[spillthebea]

🍬, 🍄 and tell me one controversial and unusual headcanon about Lily (I demand it!!)

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

about lily they asked sooo here we go

i am not sure if controversial but i think lily would have totally f destroyed muggle-style snape and peter if ever gotten the chance AND petunia for what they did to her family. just imagine your husband's best friend betraying you after years of friendship for what? BECAUSE COWARDICE? like nuh uh man, you're getting suffocating by lily's hands and the shape of her wedding ring is gonna be imprinted around your shitty neck for the rest of your afterlife; just imagine your ex-best friend you give chances and excuses for life until you couldn't anymore just became a loyal member (so f loyal and into the shit he had private meetings with Lord f Voldemort) and gives the crucial information that makes the Dark Lord haunts you and your family down and instead of saying "oh shit i fucked up", he begs the dark bitch to let you live and kill your husband and your son... NUH UH, Lily would have tackled Snape the SECOND he was into sight. And the guilt she must have felt in the afterlife because that was her Severus, her friend who helped her discover magic was not that you were insane... OMG JILY BEING SO FULL OF GUILT BECAUSE THEY TRUSTED THE WRONG PEOPLE (james with peter and lily with snape) BUT OKAY, THOSE WERE FRIENDS BUT YOUR OWN F SISTER?! NUUUH UHHH lily is getting down there with a metal baseball bat

bonus: i know harry said james would have not wanted for peter to get killed like that in the Shack but harry didn't f know his dad, I DO! JAMES HEXED PEOPLE JUST FOR THE FUN OF IT (he matured YES I KNOW AND I LOVE HIM AND HE BECAME SUCH A GOOD PERSON WHO F DIED AS A HERO, READY TO F FIGTH VOLDY WITH HIS HANDS JUST TO GIVE LILY AND HARRY TWO SECONDS MORE TO RUN! THAT'S MY MAN!) and after knowing peter had not only betrayed him, but also let sirius go in azkaban as jily's traitor and killer?! NUUUH UH MY MAN WAS THERE SPIRITUALLY WITH WOLFSTAR CHEERING THEM ON

peter, one of his best friends, betrays him, the love of his life dies, JAMES HIMSELF dies and their beautiful son becomes an orphan and gets abused just like sirius (J's f brother!!) and james is not there to protect him like he did with sirius and everything because peter was a f coward. James, who had old parents who surely had some issues in playing with him bc of their age, had wished to have more than one kids so they will have each other and to make kids at a young age so he will have all the time to play with them and teaching quidditch and telling stories of pranks and grow old with lily, admiring the red becoming white, had gotten none of it bc of *ihnales deeply* FUCKING SCABBBBBBBBERS!

so i know jily is that icons meme of "go mass murder people my love, i hold your flower"

(that was intense, i have too many jily feelings and i oop-)

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

... blank mind AHH!

ehm... (NOT A SHIP OFC!)

i love the idea of walburga letting herself go after sirius runs away. She sleeps in his room, and sits in his room and just exists in his room and wasn't there to tell regulus not to accept the Death Mark bc she was not there mentally. I think she is a mother (NOT A MUM! differences are there) who thought she was doing everything right following how her parents taught her aka family comes first, they are no individuals in that house, but she understands too late how by doing so she lost her first child, her Sirius. I think she loved Regulus but not enough to care about him after Sirius was gone because (in my mind) Sirius was Walurga's child and Regulus was Orion's child BUT! in orion's head Sirius too was his child so Reggie was not the first priority of both of his parents even tho (in my head, again) Reggie and Orion are as similar as Sirius and Walburga are to each other and that's the problem. Orion (FOLLOWING MY CHARACTERISATION) sees too much of himself in Regulus and wishes to have been more like Sirius and Walburga knows Reg is easier to control and order around but he does not have her spark, he is too similar to orion AGAIN and sirius never understood that he was their parents' fav child thinking only that regulus was so f perfect and quiet aka the perfect son and heir for a family like the Blacks.

... me always going back to the black family LOL

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 24

chapter 41: (over halfway through!)

1. 😐 um, i’m actually giving a death glare right now. wdym marlene has to go back to that arena????

2. okay, fuck that bitch dumbledore. he’s worse than coin. i hope he rots

3. i- all these victors going in are sirius’ friends. or his absolute worst enemies to begin with. OR his own fucking family! and his brother! and there’s a MARRIED COUPLE going in having to fight each other. i- this is the most devastating thing i will ever read

4. “James holds his gaze and hopes with everything in him that Regulus sees the truth in James' eyes when he coldly announces, "I hate him."” 😧

5. it hurts that sirius has ALWAYS tried to protect regulus. like, tried burying him like dogs bones once 😭😭

6. oh. oh shit. remus doesn’t know that sirius is a tribute yet

7. 😐 sobbing actually. wolfstar wasn’t supposed to go through this much pain. yet here we are. my babies being hurt.

chapter 42:

1. i like how once again, it’s pointed out that in this fic and canon, dumbledore has never seemed to care about the individual people if it meant winning a war

2. 👁️👄👁️ wide eyes. what is alberforth about to ask albus to do

3. the ring dorcas is handing marlene is eerily similar to the canon 75th hunger games with the token finnick is given

4. “A war could break out right on the other side of the door, and Dorcas would let it wage on to stay right here, just like this, with Marlene.” GAYYYYYYYYYY

5. “Without any fuss, she starts frantically plucking the rings off of one hand, each clink of them hitting the counter making Marlene groan” 😳😳😳 oh my god i am so gay holy shit

6. god i’m so angry. marlene got help with her drinking, then the night the quarterly memorial was announced, she’s right back at it. i’m not angry at marlene btw. i’m pissed at dumbledore and riddle

7. “"You'll be the last thought I have, you know," Marlene whispers. "Before I die, it'll be you. I just know it."” 😟

8. THE ORDER IS GETTING EFFIE AND MONTY POTTER OUT OF DISTRICT SIX!! FUCK YEAH

9. god i love lily in this fic. she is wonderful, beautiful, kind, caring, and most of all: human. she has faults. she won’t get close to people because last time she did, she lost remus. she smokes. she breaks the rules. she doesn’t always make the perfect move. she makes the human move. i love her so much

10. alberforth >>>>>>>>>> albus

11. god. lily just killed a person. this too is going to haunt her forever

12. 👀 marylily i smell?

13. 😭😭 mary is sprinting in heels

14. god i love that effie is willing to fight everyone for the people (district) she loves

15. CHEERS! barty just shot his father point blank in the chest

16. 😧 i- they just released the disease into the air. i-

17. if ted, tonks, and andy don’t make it out i’m gonna lose my mind

18. 😐 ted’s dead.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hello! Any advice about writing Lily? I’m hopefully writing the co-writing summer challenge with her as one of the main characters, so any advice would be appreciated!

You mean Lily Evans?

Well, the thing is, @therealvinelle and I have... pretty much made that character up. I'll fully admit to it because what we're given in canon is hilariously small in comparison to James (given a lot more screentime and defining traits)

We're told that Lily was a favorite of Slughorn's (which per a post that has yet to be written was a... alarming scene in HBP, let me tell you) and that she was talented in Potions. She had a good wand for Charms. Those who talk about her say she was nice, perhaps had a bit of a temper, and then quickly pivot to James.

This was the invisible woman.

What this means is that you can pretty much do whatever you want and no one will cry foul at you. So long as you're consistent and have an idea of who you think she is, you should be good.

But I can tell you how @therealvinelle and I characterize her.

She's Scarily Intelligent and Ingenious

What we do know about her canonically is that she was the driving force of the protections surrounding not only Harry and the Dursleys. We're never told what she did, exactly, but we're told it's her handiwork and we see its effects.

No one can attack the Dursley's home or presumably cause harm to its inhabitants while there. Voldemort is unable to even touch Harry's skin without melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.

These protections cannot be replicated on any other safehouse including Grimmauld Place, the Burrow, or any other place the Order has an interest in protecting.

To get around the protections, Voldemort has to create a homunculus using Harry's own blood (note this was not his first choice which was the Philosopher's Stone and had he not had this issue he may have tried a different 'enemy')

This is someone who managed this at 21 with no education after Hogwarts, who is locked in a house with very few books, and presumably does so under the nose of Dumbledore as well as her husband.

Depending where you lean headcanon wise/explanation wise, Lily also is responsible for deflecting the killing curse for Harry: something no one else had ever done beforehand or after (Harry resurrecting continually for unexplained reasons).

As a result, we tend to write her as an intensely thoughtful and innovative person who spends a long time thinking things through and searching for solutions to problems. We also write her as a very pragmatic person, the kind who would consider the solution of sacrificing herself for the protection of her son and family and then go through with it.

No One Realizes She's Brilliant

Lily is noted as being good at Potions in the same breath as James being good at Transfiguration. Now, James did become an animagi at thirteen, that's nothing to sneeze at and per canon is impressive, however it's not the protections placed on Harry.

The most credit Lily is given is from Dumbledore who... praises her as a woman who sacrificed herself for her child and nothing else. She's not noted as the greatest witch of her generation the way Hermione is or talked about much at all.

What we're looking at is someone who did well enough in school, probably better grades than Harry, but no one really recognized her for what she was (probably because she wasn't a memorizer/rote learner the way Hogwarts encourages).

As a result, @therealvinelle and I tend to see her as suffering intense imposter syndrome. She assumes everyone knows what she knows or that, when dismissed or contradicted (particularly by someone like Dumbledore), that there must be something she didn't consider that they must know of.

She's Well Liked But No One's Close to Her

Given the canonical reactions and the fact that she's cited as having no close friends beyond Severus (who she severed ties with), it seems that she was very amiable and well liked but that she put up walls and was a very difficult person to get to know without anyone realizing as much.

She's one of those people you meet who you think is charming but then realize later after you've walked away that you don't know a single personal thing about them. (If, of course, they realize this at all, which the entire world does not).

This is likely to hide vulnerabilities and perhaps in reaction to being Muggleborn in a wizard's world.

As a result, she's also an intensely lonely person for all she doesn't admit as much even to herself. James ends up her closest connection but their relationship is strained by being in hiding and ultimately having conflicting personalities.

The Snape Thing

This is where uh... there are opinions from other parts of fandom. This one you're on your own for in explaining why Lily left Snape and then dated James and how it makes sense for her as a person (whether you like it or not is a different story, but if you want a consistent character there should be a reason both of these things happen).

I won't get into this here as it's not really the post for it but it's something you'll have to understand if you want to write her consistently as a character (even if it's an AU where that event doesn't happen)

TL;DR

The best advice I can give is to read @therealvinelle or my fics featuring her as a character.

You got anything, @therealvinelle?

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕍𝕀𝕀: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕤 𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕕𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

Summary: In the wake of the attack on the Gramont estate, Chidi waits for his fate to be decided - and to learn whether Vincent will survive.

TW: forced sedation, hospital, grief, crying, aftermath of trauma, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Perhaps, if Chidi had made a different decision, the Marquis Àlderic would have survived. It was a close battle – the last few of Mrs. Harkan’s hired guns finished off the master of the house. The Myrmidon who had announced Àlderic’s death was killed shortly afterwards, but he took a half dozen of the enemy with him, leaving only a handful who scattered once they realized Mrs. Harkan had been killed. Within another few hours, reinforcements arrived to retake the palace. So if only Chidi had obeyed orders, the Marquis Àlderic de Gramont would probably be alive.

But the Marquis Vincent de Gramont would be dead.

Chidi had no way of knowing what Vincent would think of that when he finally awoke. He was placed in a medically induced coma, in a private hospital just outside Paris. The best doctors in the world saw to his needs, but Chidi could not be with him. The rest of the household did not know what he’d think of Chidi’s decision either, so they insisted that Chidi be confined for disobedience. As soon as they reached the hospital, the staff pried the young master out of Chidi’s death grip (which took multiple tries and eventually he had to be sedated before he’d let go).

Chidi barely remembered any of that. It was all a blur of rage and adrenaline. He awoke handcuffed, in a makeshift holding cell somewhere in the hospital. Day after day passed by. He paced, listening at the door to try to catch even the smallest hint of news about Vincent’s condition, despite the fact that any doctors strolling past his room could be talking about any number of other patients. Every time the door opened to bring him a meal, he tried to reason with the attendants, insisting that this was the perfect opportunity for someone to make an attempt on Vincent’s life and that he had to be by his side for that reason if not for any other. But they just assured him that Vincent was well guarded. Not well enough.

His mind tore itself apart in those long hours. He scratched lines into the paint on the wall to count the days. Guards or not, conscious or not, Vincent was up there alone, with no one who truly understood or cared about him. And even now, before they could see each other again, he could – no, Chidi couldn’t think that, couldn’t even bring himself to consider Vincent’s death.

And it wasn’t just Vicent. Fritz was dead, Eric was dead. All of his colleagues had been wiped out. He wished he could reach his brother, tell him what had happened and that they both might not be safe. But Àlderic had been the sole keeper of the contact information that allowed the Myrmidons to speak to their families, and Vincent would not receive access to it until he awoke.

Almost two weeks passed before there was a knock at Chidi’s door at something other than a mealtime. He had both dreaded and hoped for that knock for so long. It either meant that Vincent was awake, or dead. He stood at attention and waited.

A moment later, a bored-looking attendant threw the door open and gestured him forward. “The Marquis wishes to speak to you.”

Vincent was housed on the top floor of the hospital, in a lavish suit overlooking green hills and the distant Paris skyline. Chidi could smell it before they entered: an overpoweringly sweet mixture of flowers wafting down the hall and into the adjoining rooms. All those who had reason to wish for the Marquis’ favor had sent their condolences. Gianna had sent a whole arch of lilies that stood over the doorway to accompany her extra guards and her offer of assistance with legal work and funeral arrangements. With disgust, Chidi noticed a three-foot-tall bouquet of what was probably a hundred red roses with a card signed by Santino. It gave him a little satisfaction to see that it was tucked into the corner farthest from the bed.

Vincent himself almost faded away into the floral chaos around him, pale in his hospital gown, but still with his hair groomed neatly. He looked both better and worse than Chidi could have expected. He was sitting up in bed, nestled among far more pillows than he probably needed and looking out the window. Although an IV drip still trailed from his delicate wrist, he didn’t seem to be on full life support. Chidi guessed that he had come out of the coma a few days ago. But he was horribly gaunt, with deep bags under his eyes and a redness around them as if he’d been crying. There was a heart-wrenching sort of hollowness to his gaze and he didn’t look at them when they entered.

The attendant called out to him. “Marquis, vous avez un invité. [Marquis, you have a guest.]” He nodded, but still didn’t turn his head. She waited a while, and then whispered to Chidi. “He’s on heavy pain medication. He didn’t talk at all for the first few days. You were the first person he asked for. After – after he stopped asking for the elder Marquis…”

At last, Vincent’s eyes shifted to her with profound disdain, an instant of red-hot fire that died back into blankness a moment later. “I’m right here.”

“Ah. Je m'excuse, monsieur [I apologize, sir.]” She bowed.

He ignored her and looked, at last, to Chidi. Chidi had so much to ask, so much to say to satisfy his own guilt or his own curiosity. How are you feeling? What can I bring you? Do you know how worried I’ve been for you, how I’ve been thinking of you every moment? I’m so sorry for what happened. But he put all of that aside. “Monsieur, je ne peux pas vous dire à quel point je suis heureux de vous voir vivant. [Sir, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you alive.]”

Something shifted in Vincent’s expression. There wasn’t happiness, but perhaps a softening. “Qui t'a enfermé? [Who locked you up?]” A dangerous question.

“Je ne sais pas, monsieur. J'étais sous sédatif. [I don’t know, sir. I was sedated.]”

“Sous sédatif? [Sedated?]”

“Oui. Parce que je ne le ferais pas… [Yes. Because I wouldn’t…]” he cleared his throat. “Je ne te lâcherais pas. [I wouldn’t let go of you.]”

At that, Vincent’s mouth flickered. Almost a smile. Then, like the flash of fire, it was gone again, drowned in that sea of blankness. “Vous avez désobéi à un ordre direct. On vous a dit – [You disobeyed a direct order. You were told - ]” He had to stop, suddenly overwhelmed without warning, and breathed deeply until it passed. “On t'a dit de rester avec mon père et tu l'as laissé mourir. [You were told to stay with my father and you left him to die.]”

“Oui je l'ai fait. [Yes, I did.]”

Another long silence. “Vas-tu même t'excuser? [Are you even going to apologize?]”

“…Non, monsieur.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow, a shadow of an old gesture. “Êtes-vous sûr? Un Myrmadon devrait être renvoyé pour désobéissance. Viré par un peloton d’exécution, bien entendu. [Are you certain? A Myrmadon ought to be fired for disobedience. Fired by firing squad, that is.]”

Chidi just tilted up his chin. “Je ne te mentirai pas. Je le ferais à nouveau. Je mourrais pour vous, monsieur. [I won’t lie to you. I would do it again. I would die for you, sir.]” His voice held nothing but devotion.

The Marquis considered him for a long moment, and finally gave a small but decisive nod. “Bien. Un Myrmidon sera exécuté pour désobéissance, mais vous n'êtes pas qu'un Myrmadon. Tu es mon garde du corps personnel. Tu viens quand je t'appelle, tu me dis la vérité que ce soit facile ou non, tu fais ce que je dis et, surtout, tu fais ce dont j'ai besoin. Qu'il ait été commandé ou non. Acceptez-vous cette mission, Chidi ? [Good. A Myrmidon will be executed for disobedience, but you are not just a Myrmadon. You are my personal bodyguard. You come when I call for you, you tell me the truth whether or not it is easy, you do what I say, and, above all, you do what I need. Whether or not it has been ordered. Do you accept this assignment, Chidi?]” His voice was commanding all the way through, until the end, when it wavered almost imperceptibly upward a note. He was desperate. Chidi could feel the other occupants of the room exchanging glances, almost as surprised as Chidi.

A perfect life had fallen into his lap. Everything he wanted. To be at Vincent’s side always, to look after him as he truly saw fit. He exhaled in disbelief. “Il n'y aurait pas de plus grand honneur que de protéger votre vie. Mais monsieur… en êtes-vous certain ? Ce que j'ai fait… vous a coûté très cher. [There would be no greater honor than to guard your life. But sir…are you certain? What I did…cost you very dearly.]”

“L'a fait? Je pense – [Did it? I think – ]” Vincent cut himself off. His pale face had gone suddenly red and he looked back towards the window. Chidi’s heart skipped as he realized what was happening.

Hurriedly: “Laisse-nous tranquille. [Leave us alone.]” He shut the door behind the attendant and other guards and came to Vincent’s side at once. His whole body was turned away towards the window, white knuckles clutching the bars of the hospital bed, trembling with the effort of holding back sobs.

To hell with it. “…Monsieur, puis-je vous tenir ? […Sir, may I hold you?]”

By way of answer, frail arms shot out to pull Chidi down almost on top of him. And Vincent broke down in his arms and grieved. And grieved. And grieved.

They stayed that way for minutes that turned to hours, and then to days, sometimes talking and sometimes not. It was a strange kind of honeymoon, a sudden elimination of all barriers between them. Vincent could not bear to be left alone. Sometimes Chidi slept in the chair beside the bed and sometimes lying next to him. Sometimes he laced their arms together around the terrible clear vein that pumped painkillers into Vincent’s battered body, and sometimes he held his whole torso while it shuddered with tears. Sometimes he shut tired eyes with soft kisses and sometimes he shook Vincent out of nightmares. There was no such thing as obligations, work, life. They kept everyone else away, aside from doctors, but what did it really matter who saw them together? The world as they knew it was broken, routine was broken, time was broken. Vincent was broken. And Chidi held the pieces together, waiting as long as it took for him to heal.

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[tiffanytoms]

Fuck the Rich

Sooo, I wrote a smutty little one-shot (you can read here or on A03)

Thank you to @athenasparrow for her lovely ✨ Smut Sprinkle ✨ of bending ppl over counters 😉 It really got Lily going 😆

Rating: E Word Count: 11.5k

Warning: Long lead up and then pretty fucking filthy. Lily is super bitter and jaded here — basically what I see could have happened if she’d never given James a chance. And… rich ppl bashing? Is that something I have to warn about? Is that a plus? Again, I dunno, you decide. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Read story after the line ↓

Fuck, she hated rich people. 

Lily grimaced to herself as she followed the frail, old lady through the halls of her larger than life mansion situated here on this vast, sprawling estate. The woman had had the audacity to look at her watch when Lily arrived (at exactly her scheduled start time) as if she was trying to ‘politely’ admonish her for being late. The funny thing about rich people was they loved ‘joking’ that your pay should be docked if you were even a second past the hour, but never seemed to think you should be compensated if you showed up twenty minutes early and they insisted you get to work right away. ‘Because, well, if you’re already here anyway!’

That’s why Lily had started showing up precisely when her paycheck began raking in Galleons. With Apparation, it was just so easy to do. Why give anyone her free labor? This job wasn’t even her passion — it was just her means of keeping her (small, crumbling, hardly suitable) roof over her head.

Fuck. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. Being a chef wasn’t that bad. Honestly, Lily would even enjoy it if she didn’t feel like it was a job she was forced into out of sheer necessity. What was even the point of graduating the top of her class at Hogwarts if no one was hiring her kind? Ahem, let her rephrase that, people without experience who also, just so happened — weird coincidence really, definitely don’t quote us — to be Muggle-born. Lily had watched rejection after rejection owl in from all the prestigious potion companies, followed by the average ones, and then even from the potion shop down the street from her. It turned out a handwritten letter of recommendation from Professor Slughorn himself couldn’t convince the owner of Pop-Up Potions that hiring Lily was worth the possible Death Eater retaliatory attack. 

Lily wished that people understood that ‘staying out of it’ was very much still picking a side. And that side was the wrong one. 

So, Lily had licked her wounds and tried not to get more and more bitter as all her friends, and enemies, found jobs she would have killed for while she had to scramble for gig economy work. Eventually, she was hired as a chef for a luxury catering company. It worked because she was kept out of sight in the kitchens, and the clients were never the same (but always so insanely wealthy), so no one had to worry about being attacked for employing an undesirable. At first, Lily didn’t understand why the families that hired her didn’t just use their house-elves’ cooking, but she supposed that everyone wanted to try new dishes every now and again. (And a darker, more cynical side of her wondered if these rich prats secretly got off on making other humans serve them.)

Lily got to use her potions skills, but instead of making life-saving brews like she wanted to, she was using her magic to make the best damn five course meal of these people’s lives — all by herself. Who needed a sous chef when you had a wand? 

The best part of her job was the pride that came from seeing all her food, all lined up and ready to go, and knowing it was scrumptious and she could replicate it again for herself at home — even though it would have to be with slightly less expensive ingredients. The worst part was knowing sometimes her creations were going to feed the very same people who were pushing her to the outskirts of society. She would never forget the day she accidentally overheard some of her clients say how ‘Muggle-born rights had gone too far.’ It was insane to think that she was somehow good enough to make them their food, but apparently not good enough for anything else. Their logic was infuriating.

And that’s how she ended up here: following this lady through the maze of her home, being told ‘not to touch anything — it’s all antique family heirlooms.’

It’s all Merlin-awfully hideous, is what it is. Why this lady was convinced that Lily would want to run off with her gold-framed oil painting of a basket of fruit was so beyond her. 

“And here we are!” the lady announced, pushing open the swinging door to her gigantic kitchen. “I’m sure the house-elves are around here somewhere if you need help finding anything.” Lily knew what that meant: don’t ask me because I’ve literally never used this kitchen before in my life so I wouldn’t even know where we keep the spoons. She turned to leave, but then stopped dramatically. “Oh! The countertops are Italian marble, so they—”

“Stain instantly,” Lily finished for her. She would never understand this. Why on earth would anyone ever pay a premium to install a surface into their kitchen that made it practically unusable? Even a mere drop of lemon juice could forever tarnish the damn entire slab. Because they’re not the ones who have to use it, Lily. You and the house-elves are… “Not to worry,” Lily said out loud as she swished her wand, covering all the counters in a shiny film of magic. “This will protect it.”

The old lady’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

Another thing Lily just loved about rich people? They always assumed the help was so, so dumb. “Yes. Please don’t worry. I’ve done this countless times. Your counters will be spotless when I leave.”

The lady nodded, either mollified by Lily’s words or by the knowledge that she could simply sue Lily’s company for new marble countertops afterwards, and left out the door. 

Lily let out a huge sigh of relief, glad to finally be alone. She opened her tote bag and began emptying out all her coolers before magicking them back to size. If she recalled correctly, tonight’s event was an engagement party — so while the food was always expected to be delicious, tonight its presentation had to be absolutely flawless. Basically, the plates would have to look like edible art — but yummy. Always yummy. 

After briefly being greeted by her manager, Lily started on the hors d’oeuvres, laughing a little to herself when she saw the menu choices. Okay, one of the people getting married still had the appetite of a child, because for every high-end option like ‘ahi tuna on a gluten-free wonton crisp topped with a wasabi aioli drizzle’, there was a ‘pig in a blanket with ketchup’ alternative as well. (Truth be told, the appetizers that looked like they belonged on the kids’ menu were always the biggest crowdpleasers. Even with the rich.) She knew which hors d’oeuvres her servers would be fighting to pass tonight. (No one liked having to be the poor sod who had to push ‘goat cheese on a Belgian endive’ on anyone. Coming back to the kitchen with anything other than a completely empty tray was discouraged.)

“Hello, Lil,” Mary, her favorite server and also longtime friend, said as she arrived in the kitchen shortly afterwards. 

Lily embraced her in a quick hug. “Mm, you smell nice.”

“You smell like bacon. What’s on the menu?” 

Lily laughed as she handed it over. “Knock yourself out.”

Mary’s smile dripped off her face seconds later. “Lil… why does this menu say ‘Black Engagement Party’?!”

Lily snatched the sheet back. “Oh bollocks, seriously?” If she had to make a list of all the affluent, entitled Purebloods that she didn’t want to serve, the Blacks would probably be at the top of that list. “I didn’t think they had an estate out here?” She looked around the kitchen as if there would be a bright neon sign that read ‘Food for Purebloods Only’ just lying about.

“I dunno,” Mary said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Hang on, no,” Lily reasoned desperately. “The woman that let me in — she was the lady of the house and I didn’t recognize her.” The Black family loved being in all the society pages of The Prophet. As much as Lily hated to admit it, she would probably be able to identify the lot of them.

Mary’s eyes got large as saucers. “Unless…”

“Quaffle, have you seen—?” Lily didn’t even get to prompt Mary to continue, because just a second later, a handsome, unfairly fit wizard whom Lily hadn’t seen since graduation three years prior ambled into the kitchen. He stuffed a hand into his hair, and Lily hated that she remembered the quirk so well. “Oh. Hey Evans.”

Fuuuuuuccccckkkkk. Lily did a mental replay of her morning routine to recall if she’d put on some makeup, or even paid any attention to her appearance at all. She had not. “Potter,” she replied shortly. 

“Fuck,” Mary whispered the word of the day under her breath before zooming off. Lily assumed she was finding a bathroom where she could compose herself — or have a nervous breakdown. If James Potter was here, then there was a near certain likelihood that the Black who had gotten engaged was Sirius — aka Mary’s ex-boyfriend. Lily’s heart ached for her friend. Was there anything worse than having to serve your ex and his newly beloved? She thought not. 

“She all right?” James asked concerned, looking at the still swinging door that Mary had exited through. 

“She’ll be fine,” Lily lied, covering for her. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, uh,” James said, shifting from one foot to the other, clearly finding himself off-kilter with Lily’s unexpected appearance. “I was just looking for my house-elf.”

Oh. Oh my gods, of course! This is his house! Well. His parents’ house… Lily slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose. She’d known he was rich, but she’d never imagined he was castle-on-the-hill type of wealthy. His whole privileged, popular air at school made so much more sense now. He’d always been annoying, and for a year straight he’d asked her out as a joke, but after she’d temporarily hexed his bollocks off at the end of 5th year (Pomfrey had not been amused), he’d finally gotten the message and steered clear of her. Last Lily heard, he was working for his dad’s potions company — because of course he was. 

“Haven’t seen them,” Lily replied. 

“Right, okay,” James said awkwardly, looking wholly uncomfortable. Lily wondered if he was still a little bit afraid of her. She supposed that would be a reasonable reaction — she doubted anyone else had ever temporarily castrated him. But in her defense, she had told him if he ever asked her out one more time that she would. 

What could Lily say? She was a woman of her word. Her stubborn, stubborn word. 

She took a moment to take him in. There had been a couple of times (okay, maybe more than a couple) her final year at Hogwarts that she’d wondered if she had perhaps made a mistake in rejecting him. He’d obviously matured quite a bit, and honestly, he wasn’t too bad on the eyes…

Well, looking at him now, here in his kitchen, he’d only gotten better. He seemed to have finally found a good hairstyle that worked well with his luscious locks, not too long and not too short, and it let his soft curls have a bit of bounce in all their beautiful disarray. He’d also filled into his formerly lanky body quite nicely, and Lily was definitely noticing the slight strain to his shirt sleeves around his biceps and the cut lines of his forearms. His arms. Honestly, those were probably what did her in the most at school… If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the traitorous sting of jealousy the day Emmeline Vance had leaned over to him across her desk and doodled on one of his arms with her quill. She couldn’t explain back then why her blood had boiled quite so ferociously, but she probably could now… if she thought about it. (She didn’t want to think about it.)

Either way, the same hazel gaze that had peeved her before now pierced, and even in his uncertainty, he was still exuding a confidence that had definitely been lacking before. At school he’d given a boyish performance of arrogance. Now, he simply oozed the self-assurance of a man. And a dangerously sexy one at that.

Fuck, Lily thought for what felt like the thousandth time this evening. She was far too horny to be at work. She hadn’t gotten properly laid in way too long, and clearly it was manifesting itself in strange ways. She’d never slept with any of her clients, obviously, but she’d also never even had any sort of desire to. 

There is no need to start now, she told her body to no avail.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked him. Sure, he lived here, but if there was anything she hated, it was hosts who hovered in her space while she was trying to do her job — handsome hosts or not. (She was telling herself she hated his presence, ooh, she was telling herself that.)

“Nope,” James replied. “Is there anything you need?”

Oh, so many fucking things, and none of them are PG. 

Lily shook her head, trying to clear her unsanctioned, gutter musings. Unfortunately, the follow-up thoughts were not very helpful either. Was this the first time a client had ever offered to help her? Like… with anything? How in the world was it James friggin’ Potter who was showing her more common decency than all the previous pompous wankers combined?

The bar was truly so low. 

Just before she could gape at him for too long, wand hand slightly sagging while attempting to chop her onions, her manager Greg came rushing through the door, looking at his clipboard. “Shit, Rebecca’s just called in sick. We’re gonna be short-staffed tonight. Where’s Mary?”

Lily winced. If there was one rule in catering, it was to never let the guests see you sweat. “In the bathroom?” she said mousily, hoping her tone would convince Greg to look up and realize they weren’t alone.

It did. “Oh! Mr Potter!” Greg schmoozed, his demeanor completely shifting to pleasant and ingratiating. “I didn’t see you there!”

“Oh, you can just call me James,” he said, offering his hand out for Greg to shake. “Mr Potter makes me sound like my father.”

“And what a compliment that must be! I’m Greg. I’m your party’s manager tonight.” 

Barf. Lily didn’t hate that Greg groveled, because she was sure it often got them extra tips, she just hated that he had to. 

James chuckled good-naturedly for Greg's sake while he clapped his hands together. “I feel like since I’m the groom’s best man and live here, I’m duty-bound to be of service. So seriously, if you’re understaffed or need any help tonight, you can always put me to work.”

Greg laughed even though his face said he was crying of mortification on the inside. “No! Nooo, absolutely no need. We got this all under control! Please, don’t let us stop you from getting ready! Everything will go off without a hitch on our end!”

James gave Lily one last good look, making her uneasy and inexplicably twitchy, before giving Greg a nod and leaving. 

Fuck. What was that? And how dare he make her so wet? She was at work!

“Shit!” Greg whispered, breaking Lily’s strange trance. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me we had the goddamn host in the kitchen?!”

Could she point out it wasn’t her job to make her manager open his damn eyes? “Sorry.”

Greg rubbed his forehead. “It’s fine.” He sighed. “Now where’s Mary?”

Lily pointed to the door she’d left through, wanting him to go away so she could have peace. No angry managers, no sultry blasts from the past — simply her and her food. Suddenly the end of this shift couldn’t come fast enough. Sure, she wasn’t ashamed of what she did for work, but she knew that deep down, she wished that the first time she saw James after years wasn’t while cooking at his place for a party that she hadn’t been invited to. Obviously you weren’t invited; you were never a part of that circle! But still: it was weird, and Lily didn’t like it. 

Now if only she could stop thinking about how bloody good he looked, then maybe everything would be okay. 

☆☆☆

“Shit! Shit shit shit shiiiiit!” Greg wheezed, ambling back into the kitchen, not having learnt his lesson and still not looking up, only five minutes later. “Mary says she’s sick and is going home now too! We only have one server for like fifty super upscale guests! This is a disaster!”

“Maybe they both caught the same bug?” Lily fibbed. Rebecca wasn’t a liar, so she probably actually was sick, but Mary deserved someone to have her back today. “We all worked the same party last night.”

Greg looked up at her pointedly. “Don’t you dare get sick on me too. I won’t let you leave. If you vomit, vomit away from the food.”

Ew. “Roger that.”

So half an hour later, Greg and one poor, overworked server were pushing out all the appetizers by themselves while Lily started on the entrees between heating duties.

“The truffle honey brie cups are ready,” Lily said as she heard the door swing open.

“Roger that.”

Lily looked up startled, this time actually dropping her wand. It turned out she too hadn’t learnt from Greg’s mistake. 

It was James. He still says that, she thought (somehow) breathlessly.She’d nearly forgotten that the whole reason she said that silly phrase was because it was practically all he’d ever reply to her at Head meetings when they’d been Head Girl and Boy. She’d started parroting it back to him in jest, but then it had sort of… stuck. 

It was weird to realize all these years later that he’d had any impact on her, even if it was something as small as a slight tweak to her vernacular.

Before Lily could react, he bent down to pick up her wand off the floor, offering it to her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He had changed out of his grey teeshirt and jeans and was now wearing a crisp navy blue button-up, tastefully (albeit cruelly) unbuttoned two notches. He’d always had beautiful, flawless skin, and that still seemed to be the case, although she didn’t think she’d ever seen that particular patch. She’d made a point to never go to Quidditch matches back in school lest she witness any more reasons to regret her decision to reject him. 

“You’re fine,” she said under her breath, trying to ignore the way her fingers had to brush his to take her wand back. Okay, so they hadn’t had to, but she’d wanted them too. Damn, I shouldn’t want to touch him. She turned around to direct all her fingerling potatoes into neat little piles across fifty plates. 

“You doing okay in here?”

“Huh?” Sure, she was a professional, but it still took a lot of concentration to keep so many moving parts going. 

“Are you doing okay?” he repeated. “I figured Mary bounced after she realized this party was for Sirius because… well. You know.”

Lily turned back to face him, finding him tugging at his hair again. He had to stop doing that. It was making her want to do it for him. “Yeah…” Wow, of course he still remembers Mary. She had dated his best mate in school. Naturally, they must have hung out too. If Lily recalled correctly, Mary had tried to persuade her on many occasions that James was actually a decent bloke, but Lily hadn’t wanted to listen. Of course Mary had said that — she was in love with his best friend! She probably wanted some sort of harmony amongst her people or had some silly daydream about double dates and whatnot. Mary had dropped the topic when she’d realized Lily was going to remain obstinate about the whole thing.

She’d truly always been too pigheaded for her own good. 

Lily cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, we’ll manage just fine. We always do. Sorry you heard all that, but I’m sure your family will be reimbursed for getting less staff than you paid for.”

James’ brows scrunched as he observed her. “Evans,” he began slowly, “it’s me. You don’t have to give me your whole customer service bullshit.” She watched as his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbed with what looked like a parched swallow. "We know each other.”

A shiver ran down Lily’s spine, and like most of the feelings she experienced around this man, she wasn’t quite sure why. Did they? Did they know each other at all?I mean, they’d shared a bunch of classes years ago, but had they ever really talked more than a few jibes here and there? She pushed all the confusion away. “Sorry Potter, but I really need to get these plates ready or else—”

“Then put me to use,” James said simply as he committed the single biggest sexy sin: he deftly popped open his cufflinks before slowly rolling up his sleeves. 

Oh, fuck you. Was he trying to torture her? Kitchens were already notoriously hot enough without James Potter parading himself around like some sort of mouthwatering arm candy. “That’s okay—”

“Seriously, Evans. I don’t know if you remember, but I’m actually quite good at magic.” She really hoped he didn’t notice she was still fixated on his gorgeous hands and forearms. “So go on. Order me about. I remember you really used to love doing that.”

Oh man. Yep. She was still too horny for this — because that? Him telling her to ‘use him’ and ‘boss him around’ was really doing things for her. Deciding it was easier to just put him to work rather than fight him on it, Lily blew a stray strand of hair that had escaped her bun off of her forehead before showing him the correct wandwork for how to place the filet mignon slices in a delightful staggered row. At least this way, she’d have enough time to finish up her sauce.

They worked side by side for some time, Lily wholeheartedly trying to ignore just how much she liked having him there. Sure, watching a man cook was sexy in and of itself, but just…knowing that there was this whole party going on on the other side of that wall, but instead of being there, he was electing to stay and help her? 

Honestly, the whole thing sort of made her want him to bend her over this stupid-ass marble countertop and do her right there. Why could she picture that so easily? Her leggings around her ankles, his hand bracing against the cabinets above her while he pounded into her again and again from behind, bruising her hips as they bumped rhythmically against the counter. She rubbed her thighs together, almost wishing she could feel the soreness that should be there — that would be, if only he let her use him in the manner she so desperately craved.

Fuck, she needed some water. And maybe a cigarette. (She had never even smoked a day in her life.)

“How have you been?” he asked, finally breaking the amicable, if not highly charged, silence between them.

“Fine,” she lied. It was easier to sugarcoat things. She truly doubted he’d ever understand her problems. Why would he? He obviously lived a completely different life. 

He nodded. 

A few seconds later, she realized it was probably really rude if she didn’t at least ask him the same thing back. “And you?”

James looked at her and smiled, a genuinely warm and lovely smile, and Lily felt her heart skip the smallest of beats. “Good, yeah, really good. Happy for Pads of course.”

“Oh yeah,” Lily hummed noncommittally. “Getting married.”

“Yup.”

“That’s crazy.”

“You think so?” he asked her, completely taking her by surprise.

“I mean, yeah,” Lily fumbled. “We’re still quite young…”

James shrugged. “When you know, you know.”

Lily swished her wand and watched as a sprig of rosemary deposited itself onto every piping hot dish, finishing the plates’ perfect appearance. “I guess.”

James folded his arms and turned to her, leaning back against the (far too saucy) counter. “What? You don’t believe in love or something?”

“No, I do.” Why had the question unnerved her so much? Why did she suddenly feel so defensive?

“We’re just too young?” he pushed.

Lily’s eyes shot up to his with his choice of words. We aren’t anything, at least not together — not in that sense. But the more she saw his eyes shining through his glasses, challenging, twinkling with mischievous mirth, the more she decided she was so down to bang him. The thought had morphed from a naughty daydream to a full-blown mission in record time, but screw it, we are young. Wasn’t youth all about making mistakes and doing what you wanted? She was horny, and if he was anything like he was at school, he was probably also down, so why the fuck not? She’d probably never see him again, so as far as no-strings attached hookups went, he was probably the best she was going to get. Besides, she wanted to shag him. Like, really, truly wanted to have him blow out her back and break her mind from how hard she wanted him to fuck her. Shouldn’t that be reason enough?

It was just sex.

Fuck it, let’s fuck him. 

Now all she had to do was glean if he was actually down — but come on, he was spending like a quarter of this party with her; this had to be his motive. Get in her good graces so he could get in her pants — it was practically what he’d tried to do back at Hogwarts, but he hadn’t been as smooth back then. Or maybe she just hadn’t been this desperate, who knew? 

Then, once she was sure he was game, she had to figure out how to make it happen.

“Shouldn’t you be out at the party doing best man duties?” she fished.

James’ eyes dropped to her lips and back before his own slipped into a smirk. “He’s so wrapped all over Aya right now, I doubt he’s even noticed I’m gone.”

Oooh, so that’s it. Lily held back a scoff. Weddings always had a special way of making single people feel lonely as hell. Lily was cool with that. If he wanted to fuck away his wedding-related blues and she wanted a good lay to make her temporarily forget all the injustices of the world, that sounded like a win-win to her. 

“Lily are the—” 

Lily hadn’t even realized her lower lip was between her teeth until Greg’s sudden intrusion into the kitchen had made her bite down on it. “Ow.”

“Mr Potter!” Her manager sounded borderline hysterical. “Can we help you?”

“Oh no, Greg. Lily was just being kind enough to entertain me for a bit. I’ll get out of everyone’s way.” He pushed off the counter, walking past Lily with the brush of his palm against her lower back. 

She normally hated it when guys did that. She did not hate it this time. Oh he is so fucking down. She grinned to herself smugly. The rest of the evening passed by pleasantly swift after that.

☆☆☆

“Thank you so much! Really, everyone was simply raving about the food!” the frail, old lady — apparently James’ mum — said at the end of the party when only the last few stragglers were left mingling by the edge of the bar in their backyard. Lily suspected the rest of her crew would probably have to stay another hour for cleanup, but mercifully, she could go home now. 

“I’m glad everyone liked it,” Lily said politely, trying not to look at James standing by his mother’s side. It felt wrong to acknowledge him in his mother’s presence considering all the filthy ways she’d already fantasized about taking him that night. After James had helped her make dinner, he’d popped back around for desserts, and then even again afterwards to slip her a glass of champagne. Normally, the servers would be the ones to do that — ‘I’ll sneak you some booze if you sneak me some food’ — but with how crazy the party had been, obviously this hadn’t been the case tonight. Also, Lily had never encountered a server brazen enough to bring Lily a glass of the really good stuff. She had no doubt that she had probably been sipping on a hundred Galleons worth of bubbly. James had choked a little bit when Lily had splashed a dash of orange juice into her flute, but honestly, she didn’t care. If it tasted better ‘ruined,’ then so be it.

Oh, how the other half lives.

James’ mum turned to him. “Will you please be a dear and give this woman her tip and then see her out?”

Lily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. I don’t want your damn oil paintings, lady. Lily almost laughed to herself as she amended, Just your son’s dignity. 

James had the decency to blush with his mum’s command. “Of course.” His mother patted him on the chest before leaving for a separate door that Lily assumed led upstairs. 

And then they were alone. Lily checked to make sure she’d shrunk and stashed away all her coolers before removing the counter protection spell.

“Got everything?” James prompted. Did he feel slightly awkward too? Was he perhaps also figuring out a way to get the two of them just as alone upstairs where they could have a little more privacy?

“Oh…” Lily smiled as she turned around and reached for the water bottle that she may have placed on the far reaches of the counter solely so that she could bend over to grab it. If she had to be tortured by the desire to have him fuck her against it all night, then the least he could do was join her in her pain for two seconds. “Got it,” she said innocently as she turned around, hoisting her tote bag higher over her shoulder before slipping her water inside. 

She’d never seen James’ cheeks rosier. It was oddly endearing. She wondered if he’d always had a smattering of freckles across his nose, or if they had shown up with his darkening tan. They’re probably new and due to his increased time for lavish vacations now that he’s out of school. 

Ugh. 

“Great,” James said, still seemingly having a hard time looking her in the eye after her little stunt. “Let me just take you to the vault for a second.”

“Excuse me?” Vault? What?

James looked at her horrified. “It’s not in the basement or anything—”

Lily laughed. “I don’t think you’re gonna kidnap me, Potter. I was more pointing out the absurdity of someone having a vault in their home.”

“Oh.” He looked kind of lost for words. Clearly he didn’t even realize it was absurd. Maybe everyone he knew had one. “Right.”

Lily followed him out of his kitchen and down the hall. 

“So you had a good night?” he asked. 

“It was all right. Yours?”

“Only all right?” he prodded, turning around and walking backwards so that he could look at her with a boyish grin as he continued leading the way. 

Oof. Stop. I’m already gonna fuck you; you don’t have to be any more charming. “I mean, I was working, so…”

James’ nose twitched before he came to a stop. “Right.” He opened an ornate door and cast a special charm on a thick titanium box inside that glowed purple before cracking ajar. Lily didn’t think she’d ever seen that many Galleons all stacked in neat little rows as far as her eyes could see. Clearly the vault had been cast with the same magic spell as her tote bag and could hold infinite objects. Oh how Lily wished her bag was filled with this much gold. 

“Uhh…” James struggled, again not being able to look directly at her, but now for a completely different reason. “Um,” he let out a weird chuckle, “what do you normally get… uh—”

It was hard not to take pity on him. Why was money such a touchy subject? Well, you really hate the rich so… clearly the whole money thing affects you too. Lily pushed the bout of self reflection aside.“How much do I normally get tipped for parties that I cook for?”

James slid his glasses up his nose where they’d started to slip. “Yes.” He seemed so grateful she’d found the words for him. 

Lily crossed her arms, figuring toying with him might be fun. “Depends. I guess you need to determine how satisfied you were with my work.” James’ eyes sliced to hers before he blinked profusely, and so fucking cutely. Fuck, she had never found him cute before. Truth be told, she didn’t think popular jock James Potter could be cute back in the day. “I’m kidding,” she whispered, leaning into him before his internalized panic combusted him. “You were just making it really weird. But yeah, normally just a few Galleons for a party this big—”

“Here,” he cut her off, grabbing two heaping handfuls of gold and shoving them into her hands. 

Lily’s brows shot up her forehead as she tried to balance all the coins. “Yeah, that’s too much—”

“Hogwash.”

“No really, I think you just gave me like, twenty times my biggest tip ever—”

“Great! Consider it backpay for all the times I bothered you in school. Can this conversation be over now?”

Lily looked at him skeptically before tittering, somehow finagling her bag open a smidge so she could throw the money inside. The coins clattered for a good thirty seconds, raining down on all the various coolers and tools she’d brought, before she could talk again. “Well. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever.” James smiled. “Please.”

She bit her lip again, but this time, she was fully aware of it. “Okay.”

James ruffled his hair before pointing the way out of the small room. “It was actually good to see you again, Evans.”

Oh crap. Was it silly of Lily to feel slightly cheated? Like, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever been more pitifully worked up in her life, and he was going to send her home? She sighed. She supposed this was her karma for rejecting him all those years ago. Although, she stood by that choice. (She did!) The James walking beside her now was leagues beyond that bloke she’d avoided like the plague back in 5th year. 

They got to the grand foyer of his house. “Yeah.” She grinned. “Surprisingly good.”

“Surprisingly?” he repeated teasingly. “Evans, you wound me.”

He was flirting. Was it bad that some of that hope for a possible hookup came rushing back to her? “Let’s just say you weren’t the worst company tonight.”

Clearly her face was doing something, because his expression suddenly seemed to morph to match it. Was he getting it? Was he understanding that bedding her tonight was a done deal? She’d heard that some ridiculously high percentage of all communication was nonverbal, and in this moment, she believed it. A look flitted across his face, but was gone an instant later. “Do you…” His eyes strayed from hers, watching the way Lily licked her lips utterly enraptured before snapping back. “Do you wanna…?”

Lily nodded at him encouragingly. “Stay?” 

James blinked rapidly, as if physically removing the confusion from his eyes. “Um, yeah?”

She shoots, she scores! Lily cheered to herself, so glad this whole night wouldn’t be a complete bust. It really was so hard to go out and mingle with people her own age when her work hours were literally everyone else’s party time. “Awesome.” She gave him a charming smile, figuring they were both finally on the same page. “Do you mind if I use your shower first? Sorry, I smell like food.”

James shook his head, still seeming to have a hard time processing the entire chain of events. He was probably used to having to work harder for it, but at this point, Lily was so ready to get off and was past the point of caring what any rich douche thought of her. “Oh, yeah. Of course. You can use mine.”

Lily followed him up the grand staircase, making small talk and glancing at the various childhood photographs of him that lined the wall. As far as she was concerned, they were far more interesting to look at than the stupid fruits on display downstairs. 

“And this is my room,” James announced rather unnecessarily. Even if he hadn’t been there to proclaim it, Lily was sure she could have found his space by the loud pop of Gryffindor red on the walls or the various Quidditch posters plastered everywhere.

“Wow James,” she teased, closing his door behind her and walking around, taking it all in. “This feels very…”

“I know,” James admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I haven’t really changed anything since school, but honestly I keep telling myself I’m about to move out so it doesn’t matter, but then…”

“You don’t,” Lily finished for him. Normally, she’d feel pissed, thinking about how he was blessed with the advantage of free room and board only to be considering giving it up… but then she realized that if he wasn’t planning on living by himself soon, she would judge him for his inability to grow up. 

It was rather silly how you could always find flaws in the people that you were already determined to hate anyway.

How was James Potter making her think of him — and people like him — like a person? It was pretty uncomfortable. She rather enjoyed thinking of all the privileged assholes of the world as one entity. One conglomeration of misery that met every Tuesday to discuss how they could ruin the lives of everyone else. Of poor people.

All that being said, this was hardly the bachelor pad she’d been envisioning for him. It was damn near impossible to picture him bringing that many girls back here. 

“Yeah,” James sighed. He pointed to the door in the back corner of the room. “That’s my bathroom. You can shower and there are fresh towels in the closet.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I can go back while you—”

“No, that’s okay,” Lily responded quickly. She wasn’t going to take that long. Why would he leave? That sort of defeated the whole purpose of tonight. “Stay. I’ll be right out.”

“Okay,” James agreed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as she disappeared into his bathroom. It was clean as hell, but she supposed that was to be expected when he had house-elves; she wouldn’t be giving him any unearned credit for tidiness that wasn’t even his own. 

The first thing she did was stare at herself in the mirror. Sure, so it wasn’t her best look, but it wasn’t her worst either. And clearly, the man wasn’t complaining. She turned on the water while stripping out of her gross work clothes before stepping in and melting under the divine water pressure of James’ shower head. She could really get used to this. (It might just be the best perk of being rich she’d discovered so far, you know, besides all the other obvious ones.) She scrubbed and shaved herself quickly (thank you wand) before toweling off and rummaging through her bag for her emergency eyeliner. If she was going to shag this guy, she might as well feel her best while doing so. 

Satisfied that she was presentable, Lily performed a quick hair drying spell, clutched the towel around her chest, and walked back into James’ room, finding him sitting at his desk, bouncing his knee. He popped up to his feet as soon as he saw her re-enter, his eyes wildly scanning down her towel-clad body. “Hi.”

He was still fully dressed. Lily had no idea why, but she’d have bet money that he would be lounging across his bed in his boxers by the time she got out. Maybe with one leg propped up and open while he leaned on his palm. “Hi,” she responded with a curious grin. Did she, Lily Evans, actually make him nervous? Like, not scared-for-his-bollocks nervous but… this kind of nervous?

“Good shower?” he asked, his eyes seemingly unable to keep from dipping to her towel periodically as she walked up to him. She had to imagine it was a thrill just knowing how close she was to being totally bare for him — because no one looked that good in a fluffy red towel. If she’d have seen his awestruck expression in a vacuum, she would have assumed he was watching the most beautiful woman on the planet approach him in the sexiest lingerie known to womankind. Not because of this.

She was ready, he was ready, so why should they keep playing games? “Excellent shower,” she whispered as she dropped the towel, standing before him naked. 

There was a three second beat. 

“Holy shit.”

Lily laughed, appreciating that he was at least trying (and succeeding) to make her feel special. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. He took a second to reanimate, a nice further touch on his part, but then Lily felt his fingers as they clutched her waist, pinching her in as he pulled her closer, flush against his body, before responding to her lips’ fervor. Fuck, the man knew how to snog. Lily rarely found anything as disappointing in life as having a crush whose kissing style vastly differed from her own, but all it took was two seconds to realize this would not be the case with James. When their mouths danced and her instincts took over, she knew that she could switch her mind off and just let her body feed off of his. She didn’t have to overthink, she didn’t have to analyze, she could just feel her yearning and have it be answered by his, because his body was picking up what she was putting down and meeting her there. He groaned into her mouth and her hips stuttered, somehow already so fucking primed for him to take her.

“Fuck Lily,” James breathed between kisses, reaching down for her bum and picking her up, encouraging her legs to wrap around him so he could spin them the other way and deposit her onto his desk. “Where did—?”

But Lily didn’t want to entertain his questions; she wanted to get him naked. “You’re still awfully dressed, Potter.” She kissed and nipped down his neck, squeezing her calves so that his tented trousers grazed her cunt, hopefully reminding him that she was exposed for him already, so let’s get a move on. Her fingers got to work plucking open his buttons, pulling back slightly so she could see his chest as she pushed his fancy shirt over his broad shoulders. Fuck! Yeah, not attending his games had definitely been a smart act of self-preservation on her part. The man looked like a friggin’ model straight out of her dreams. 

“I’m living out my fantasy,” James panted, finally helping her out and shrugging off his shirt, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor in a heap. He seemed to really love the attention she was giving his neck. It only encouraged her to graze her teeth a little bit rougher, loving how she could directly feel the effect it had on his breathing. “Give me a moment.”

Ugh, there was the cocky arsehole she remembered. The line was just so corny. “You’ve always wanted to fuck your chef?” she sassed back. He could try to win her over with witty rehearsed one-liners, but she sure as shit didn’t have to fall for them. As far as she was concerned, she was hooking up with him in spite of who he was, and definitely not because of it. 

James laughed but didn’t respond, instead opting to lean forward into her and claim her mouth once more as he dragged her closer to the edge of the desk, his hand on the small of her back just like she’d liked so much in the kitchen. He didn’t seem to be able to help himself from rocking her against him, making them both moan in unison. This whole situation just seemed like a drawn-out tease, and Lily was ready to get to the real action.

Truthfully, he was far too good at kissing, his tongue wickedly playing with hers, and if Lily wasn’t careful, she might just let him do this all night. She had to remain focused. She couldn’t get distracted… no matter how much it seemed like James was cheekily, rakishly trying to. She pushed his body back slightly by his warm, far too chiseled chest so that she had room to finagle with his belt, biting and tugging on his lower lip as she pulled the leather end free. “I need you to fuck me, Potter,” she commanded before pulling the belt all the way out and pushing down his trousers. 

James’ jaw clenched as he stepped out of his pants and took both of her hands in his own in order to pull her from the desk, leading her towards his bed. “What do you want?” he asked gruffly when she stood beside the mattress. He hurriedly pushed his trunks down so that he was just as naked as she was. 

Fuck yes. She had no idea why — again, probably for survival purposes — but through the years she had convinced herself that he had to have the world’s tiniest pecker. 

Turned out he didn’t. Not even close.

“Eyes are up here, Evans,” he taunted, and Lily was almost mad that she’d given him the opportunity for such an easy line. 

“From behind,” she said, already knowing the pure havoc those simple words would wreak on the poor boy. The same basic, primal instinct that she knew she was tapping into to get the best reaction out of him as possible was the same reason she wanted the position in the first place. She didn’t want his fake romance or any platitudes that he’d forget spewing as soon as he came — she wanted to get fucked. Raw and hard and deep. Right fucking now. If she was nothing but a servant to people like him, he could just as easily be nothing but an easy shag for someone like her.

She crawled onto the mattress on her hands and knees, looking back over her shoulder at him, making sure to give her hair a good flip. He looked like he’d just died. She was right: he was easy. “Chop chop.”

He shook his head, trying to get at least some blood back into his brain. “Chef humor.” It didn’t come out as a burn or any sort of comeback, but more like the words of a man who was trying to prove to himself that he had some semblance, any clue really, of what was going on around him. 

Lily chuckled. She had to at least give him brownie points for putting those two things together in his addled, fully erect state. She knew men weren’t always at their brightest when their cocks were so painfully hard.

But then, James seemed to want to regain some iota of his dignity back. Standing behind her, he gently skimmed his fingers from her tailbone, over her arse, all the way through her pussy lips while his free hand tugged absentmindedly on his cock. The sight stole the breath straight out of Lily’s lungs. It was dumb, because he was about to be inside of her, but she wanted to be the one with his cock in her hands. She wanted to feel him as he thickened, ride him as he throbbed, and taste him right before he wilted. She wanted him all, all to herself.

“Are you ready?” His voice was a timber so low, so sexy, she thought she might have gotten even wetter — a feat that she wasn’t aware was even possible.

“Touch me and find out.” She bit her lower lip, not sure anymore if she was still seducing him, or just in desperate need to bite something, anything, if she couldn’t bite him. He was currently this perfect combination of flustered and eager and it was completely driving her up a wall.

He followed her heed and slipped one finger into her, whimpering almost as loudly as she did when he felt her body clutch around him greedily. “Fuck, Lily, you’re so fucking wet right now,” he breathed as he slowly began to massage his finger in and out of her. 

Lily arched her spine, flexing into the welcome feeling of him discovering her. “I’ve been this wet for you all night. So kind of you to notice.” Her fingers scrunched into his sheets, clearly some expensive, high thread count shit, as she lowered her chest to the mattress, displaying herself all the more blatantly for him. Had James been a viable dating prospect for her, she probably wouldn’t have been so shameless. If James Potter was someone whom she could actually date in the real world, she might be playing it coy, or give a single flying scruple about how he could interpret her visible keenness for him to plow her senseless as a negative. Because, who knows why, but actively wanting to get fucked is still seen as a negative for girls. But alas, the James Potters of the world never ended up with the Lily Evanses, so… she could be as real, and as lustfully turned on for him as she positively was… and show it. 

“Fuck,” he repeated, actually sounding tortured as he added a second finger inside of her. 

The naughty stretch was everything Lily had been missing these past few months. She rocked forward as she muffled her cries into his mattress, letting her bottom lip drag across the satin sheet as she slowly tilted her head up before looking back at him. “Yeah, just like that, Potter.” She hadn’t expected him to be quite this talented of a lover, but she supposed she shouldn’t be that surprised. He did have a reputation after all. And it’s not like he was ever an academic idiot. She figured he’d always learned things quickly enough. And boy am I benefitting from it now…

He’d gotten on his knees behind her at some point, face eye level with all the action. His stare kept oscillating between his fingers, watching them disappear into her over and over again, and her face, as though sinking up all the events in his head as one, continuous reality that he now had the absolute privilege of living. “May I?”

May I what? “Yes.” Lily decided whatever he was asking didn’t matter. In that moment, she’d let him do anything.

A second later he leaned in and his face disappeared from view as he replaced his fingers with his tongue and moved his thumb’s attention to her clit. Lily yelped in pleasure, the unexpected switch nearly driving her to the edge already. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever had a man eat her out without her prompting him to (quite insistently… for months) and the shock alone was thrilling. It was so dumb, but as James licked her again and again and, so beautifully, rubbed her nub in tight, satisfying circles, she couldn’t help but feel like an idiot. In what world was Potter the one giving her head? In what world was he the guy who was going to make her come with his mouth when the so-called saviors of her world had laid on their backs and expected her to service them as a reward for all the ‘hard work’ they did on the daily of treating her as an equal? 

Sure, James had been an ass, but had he ever treated her as an inferior? Had he ever made her feel worthless? Or had he just been a standard, teenage idiot? 

Had Lily really been missing out? Had she really shot herself in the foot purely out of spite by misjudging him? Was she insane for altering her whole life view around the act of cunnilingus? 

Fuck. She was thinking again. 

His tongue made a broad, firm lick against her clit before flicking her back and forth and Lily wanted to scream, settling for balling his sheets in her fists instead. “James…” she sighed with a suppressed moan, eyes screwed tightly shut. He was far too good at this too.

He lapped at her more incessantly and Lily couldn’t believe she could feel that his lips had formed a smile. “You like that?” he teased.

Yes. No need to be so smug about it.

Lily reached behind her and pulled on James’ wrist, tugging him up so that he was forced to return to his feet. The way he wiped his moist lips on the back of his hand, reminding her of her own arousal for him, was lethal. “Yes?” he asked, chest heaving in and out exaggeratedly as he stared into her very soul. She had to look so pathetic, face smushed into the mattress, cheeks flushed whilst on the verge of breaking for him, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from how he was looking at her.

“Fuck me. Now. Please.”

“Roger that.”

She could only watch the first few seconds after he lined himself up behind her, because as soon as he started pushing in, his cock feeling so fucking good and so right inside of her, she had to turn back into the sheets, muffling her whimpered whine as she hit her left fist into the mattress beside her face. It wasn’t fair. Someone so hot shouldn’t have a cock so perfect. James Potter should not have the perfect face, and the perfect body, and then also the perfect boyfriend dick that was exactly large enough to fill her up so generously and make her feel every damn inch of him as he thrust himself into her from behind — making her so unfairly aware of just how deep her body could stretch when she was hot and bothered for him — but not too large that she felt like crying at the thought of taking him like this forever. She wanted to get fucked like this forever. She wanted to have his cock in her cunt, in her mouth, wherever else he wanted to shove it, in perpetuity.

“Does that feel good?” he gasped behind her, his right hand migrating from her hip up her body until it found her chest, his grip possessively digging into her breast. How were they fucking already but he hadn’t even properly worshiped her tits yet? How was it that a few hours ago she was celebrating the innocent placement of his hand upon her back, and now she was pondering just why he hadn’t yet mapped out every centimeter of her body with his tongue?

“Yes,” she bit out. “Harder.”

James groaned as he obeyed her command, his hips snapping back and forth at a brutal pace. His free hand applied light pressure against her lower spine so that her body stayed in place, just where he wanted it. The move kept her from jostling too much up and down the bed, allowing her cunt to fill to the hilt with him with every punishing thrust. “Like this?”

“Harder.” She wanted him to hit her so deeply that it finally shattered her. 

For some reason, the muffled curses he breathed into her shoulder as he bent completely over her, doing everything within his power to grant her request — his hips never stopping even though it seemed as though his brain was frying — was the thing that was curling her toes and making her eyes start to roll up. His balls were hitting against her clit, and Lily had never wished more vehemently that she could see the action herself.

“Fuck, Lily, fuck—“ he got out in choppy bursts before his teeth finally sunk into her skin. It turned out she wasn’t alone in her need to bite the shit out of anything she wanted to either fuck or squeeze to death. His right hand left her tit and instead migrated to the mattress so he could interlock fingers with her, pushing her palm down.  

“Just like that… just like that,” she babbled incoherently, feeling herself so fucking close to the edge that she could taste it. Which is why she fully screamed when he pulled out of her and rolled her over onto her back. “Potter, what the fuck—!”

“Your turn,” he said simply as he collapsed onto the mattress next to her and pulled her on top of him. In any other context, she would hate just how much he was throwing her body around like he owned it. In this particular instance, she wished he’d never stop. “I wanna see your face when you come.”

“Fuck you,” she grumbled as she swung her leg over him, realizing that if she wanted something done right, she really would have to do it herself. She was ready to ride one out on him, hot and heavy and fast, but just as she sunk down on his cock, James sat up, his hands clutching onto the back of her shoulders. She felt oddly cocooned in this embrace, safe and warm and… held? What the fuck is he doing? It was impossible not to watch his face in this position, impossible not to see every emotion that played out in his eyes as he looked lovingly from her lips to her lashes before he tangled a hand in her hair and kissed her, deeply. 

Lily gasped and pulled back when the intensity of their snog became too much, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt her cunt flutter around him. He’s been edging you so hard, she told herself. She told herself. She told herself. 

He lazily rocked her on his lap, giving Lily far less friction than she needed as he tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “I bet you regret not giving me a chance in school now, huh?” he whispered arrogantly. 

Excuse me? First of all, fuck you. But Lily realized she didn’t need a second of all, because she simply just could. With more than a bit of anger, she ignored his words and instead pushed James’ torso down onto the mattress, hard, so that she could shag him with renewed vigor, ridding his stupid face from her sight in the hopes of coming with impunity. She ignored his knowing chuckles even as she appreciated the way his fingers came between them to rub her clit for her. 

She imagined him in the kitchen telling her to put him to use. She pictured him on his knees behind her willing to do whatever it took to please her. And yeah, fine, she envisioned the look on his face when he had realized back in school that she was not someone he could mess with — and then she came harder than she’d ever come in her life, her head thrown back and her nails digging deeply into his pecs.

She didn’t realize tears had welled in her eyes from the pleasure until James had flipped them back around and she could feel them trailing down her cheeks. 

“Do you mind if I come?” His hips were moving agonizingly slow, as though he was hedging his bets until he got a proper answer out of her.

“What?” Lily asked, not really understanding what was going on anymore.

“Can I come, please?” James repeated, the pleading tone of his voice knocking some sense into her. They were forehead to forehead, and Lily felt like he’d just shagged her so well that she needed to be that close to his desperation for it to actually register. 

“Sure,” Lily allowed, bonelessly melding into the mattress as James fucked her with everything he had, his thrusts solid and rough as he sought his own end. The bed groaned as he pounded away into her, her thighs widening to accommodate his brutal onslaught while her hands finally sunk into his hair.

He moaned, either from the way her cunt was squeezing him or from the way her nails scratched his scalp. “Lily…” His voice was pure even as his body destroyed her. 

“Fuck, James,” Lily whimpered. “Come. Come for me, please.” She wanted to watch him. She wanted to see him come undone.

“Thank you,” he breathed, his hand traveling up to clutch at her chin and hold her in place so he could kiss her as he spilled himself into her. His lips glided over hers, demanding yet soft, sweet yet sinful, and Lily felt powerless to their pull.

She fought to breathe when he finally let go, somehow overwhelmed and simultaneously left wanting as she realized their session had come to its inevitable conclusion. “You’re welcome,” she tried saying with a laugh. She wasn’t sure if it worked, but she knew her attempt at least helped to quell the weird butterflies he’d coaxed from her belly. His face was still hovering right above hers, so how the hell was she supposed to feel? She knew it was human nature to bond after sex. She also knew that it was in her best interest to deny this instinct. “You’re awfully polite when you shag.”

He chuckled as he began trailing kisses down her face, past her chin, and over her clavicle, and Lily secretly rejoiced that she hadn’t ruined the moment. She would love to experience the feel of having her tit being sucked on by his expert lips, and he was getting so awfully close, but perhaps she was being greedy. She had, after all, just come from a one night stand — and magnificently at that. She’d practically already hit the jackpot. 

“Is that a bad thing?” he murmured, his lips lingering just beneath her collarbone, and Lily felt a horrid tug a little lower under her left breast. 

“No,” she admitted, far more openly than she was used to as she forced a swallow. “It’s just not what I expected.”

He grinned, and the tug disappeared only to be replaced with a new one. A stronger one. ”You had expectations?” His body was crushing hers, and yet she couldn’t find it within herself to shove him off. 

“Well yeah. Sure. It’s hard not to think about when a boy invites me to his room.”

“Oh.” Was she imagining things, or did she just watch his whole body deflate in real time? Why was Lily suddenly struck by the strange notion that they were having two completely different conversations? 

Her awkward shifting prompted him to pull himself back and out of her. “Lemme get you a tissue.” James reached for his nightstand, grabbing one and turning back to her like he had every intention of cleaning her up himself. 

What the fuck? “I got it, thanks,” she cut him off, snatching the tissue and wiping away the trail of him she could feel leaking out of her. Sure, there was probably no sexy way to clean up post-coitus, but there was definitely a way where she could at least hold on to the last dredges of her propriety.

She’d choose that way. Every single time. 

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” she announced, hopping to her feet and making a dash for the door. At this point, she wasn’t even sure if she was acting strangely or if he was. She was pretty sure it was the latter. Well, it was him first, and then she was simply reacting accordingly. 

Lily sighed. Whatever it was, it truly didn’t matter, because they’d both gotten what they’d come for, hallelujah, and now Lily could be on her merry way and James could catch the very tail end of his best friend’s celebration of love without feeling like a single loser. Lily peed, put on her old clothes, splashed some water on her face, and was ready to go.

“Thank you for a lovely time, Potter,” she said cordially as she exited the bathroom, ready to pick up her bag and bounce.

“Oh… You’re leaving?”

Lily felt her neck physically crick as she looked up to find him sitting on the edge of his bed in his trunks, his elbows resting on his knees. Why was everything he was doing tonight surprising her? Why? She’d half expected him to already be gone. Leaving would have been a foolproof way to avoid any further awkwardness. What the fuck was off with her? She usually trusted her intuition so much. She was used to being right. “Yeah…” she began. “I have a shift in the morning. Turns out people like to schedule all their parties on the weekends.”

“Course.”

She hated the sudden tension in the room. But worse? She hated how hurt he looked. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before he finally asked, “Can I owl you?”

Lily tucked a lock of her wild sex hair behind her ear, doing everything in her power to not remember all the ways he’d just disheveled it. Was this not a one-time thing? A ‘Hey, I had a crush on you in school but we were both idiots back then so it was nice to finally see what it could have been like?’ or a ‘I was really frustrated with my life, and you sort of represent everything bad in it (sorry about that), so this was a great way to work some of that tension out of my system’? Lily paused. She supposed it sounded a bit messed up when she phrased it to herself like that. 

“You don’t have to,” she eventually answered, wanting to let him know he really didn’t have to do the whole fake-chivalry act for her. She guessed it was sort of like what he’d said downstairs in the kitchen when she’d given him her customer service spiel: this was her. They knew each other. So why pretend like this night hadn’t been exactly what it was? She was fine knowing they’d merely shared a night of passion or whatever, and they could just leave it at that. He didn’t have to owl her the next day to absolve her conscience or anything. 

James stood up, looking her dead in the eye. A pulse of longing shot down Lily’s core like a lightning bolt. It was the first time all night he’d looked even partially ticked off. “I want to.”

Lily felt oddly nervous. She’d just fucked this man. He’d just come inside of her and she’d needed to clean the mess they’d made together from off of her thighs, so why was this the behavior that her body was deeming to be ‘too much’? She wanted to ask, ‘What do you want from me?’ but the declaration seemed far too melodramatic to utter out loud. At the same time… it was all she could think of. What was he doing? He’d gotten what he wanted… didn’t he know playtime was now over?

“Sure.” She swallowed thickly. “You can do whatever you like.”

He didn’t stop approaching her until he was standing directly in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. “Good. I will.”

She felt more exposed now than when her actual arse had been in his face. She could barely breathe as her eyes tracked the slight upturn of his lips as they slanted into a grin before getting lost in the golden specks of his irises. Why did it suddenly look like he’d won something? And why did it feel like what he’d won was a prize they both secretly wanted?

What had she done? 

“Okay.”

His smirk turned lethal. “See you, Evans.”

Lily backed away slowly, not knowing whether it was better to keep an eye on him, or to turn her back as quickly as possible to break whatever unnatural hold he had on her psyche. All she knew was that a few seconds later she had her spine pressed against the outside of his door and was wondering what the hell had just happened. 

Fuck.

[silviakundera]

Joy of Life Episode 12 and 13 liveblogging

This is my first watch, so don't tell me secrets ;)

A lot of sweet romance stuff. These two do have a very warm chemistry together. It already feels like they've known each other awhile. As the viewer you do believe that they like each other very much.

Now that the idiotic forced misunderstanding is over, I can relax my blood feud. Go forth, my children, and be logical!

ML owes his family SO MANY APOLOGIES for the bullshit he put them thru about this idiocy. It bet it's not over, but at least everyone knows who everyone is now

Hmmmm should I be suspicious about this cold medicine?

If FL wants to get out of this mess she's gonna have to work mom a lot better.

hmmmmm on Si Lili's boat, "that monster??" The white garbed swordswomen? Intriguing.

That FL is lucky. You put me in the past and I could plagiarize at least 5 Supernatural novels but I could do NOTHING for tuberculosis.

What trouble is Sil Lili in and how will ML get her out of it?

....guys do u think all this cutsie time at home for assassin bro Teng Zijing is to make it more sad when mom & kid die horribly ?🤔😶

Look I'm not gonna start lying to ya'll, I don't care about that mom & kid's life or death other than intellectual curiosity and plot reasons.

THE BOX IS OPEN. 🤘🤘🤘🤘

It's.... just a dude with bad hair?

A "Level 8 Master", whatever that means. I'm sure it's a very impressive wuxia ranking.

ML's plan is just to return to the country and tbh that's a good plan, I can't argue with facts

Episode 13

Second Prince's cup breaks... Poison, omen, or badly glazed cookware? 🤔

Oh they're traveling down the street where he beat up the Crown Prince's person and now they're reminiscencing about how great meeting each other was. And just a few scenes ago Assassin bro joked about how he'll run away and leave ML in a fight. I am DROWNING IN FORESHADOWING I CAN'T BREATHE

The knives in coat move returns!

Epic wuxia battles. This is where we could really use Uncle Wu

The 2 bros are not gonna abandon each other 😢

The mountain of foreshadowing's prophesy is fulfilled

ML is super upset about his bro and goes wuxia nuclear

"Tell him to wake up." 😭😭 I really thought we had another 10 episodes before he died tragically

No way, kill the Level 8 master. This is dumb, don't leave your enemy alive. Investigate another way.

Ok WAS it the CP.... Or hear me out, was it the Second Prince who set this up to get ML irrevocably on his side?

Second Prince even knows he's my suspect

Si Lili also a suspect tbh. Too bad if so, friendship CANCELLED

(But let's not forget about Princess Royal)

Loser brother and step mom should give him hugs. They're so worried ❤

awwww even the dad is broken up about this

"Tell me about him" -> ok 🍗 girl said exactly the right thing. As much as I hated this ship in the the earlier episodes, the screenwriter is doing a good job with it now. In every scene, you do sense the liking they have for each other

Fan Xian was his family too! I'm gonna cry

LMAO both Crown Prince and Second Prince are exactly the same.

See I told Fan Xian to just kill the Level 8 guy. Now he's being released like we're in fucking Gotham.

Lord Zhu is the actor who just did the emperor on Blossoms in Adversity! (Hello! Sorry you got bug eyes as an acting partner!)

How much do you want to be that whomever plotted this was well aware of the politics angle with Northern Qing?

Ok ok guys guys guys guys I have a solution to this The Killer's Going Free problem! ML needs to ask his poisioner mentor to murderate him - after he's crossed the boundry!

No? You're gonna kill him in public, because the Inspection Board's operations are above the law? O.....kay. I mean I get the angle but tbh I still would have gone with a secret poisoning.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 1: A little bird in a cage

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Chapter summary: Sansa is a prisoner in King’s Landing, she is a victim of the harassment of the Lannisters; she would like to escape, but she does not know how.

Chapter warnings: violence, blood.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Sansa was alone, completely alone.

Her father had been killed, it was Joffrey. He accused his father as a traitor to the crown, but she knew what had led to her father's death: his principles, his honesty and his thirst for justice.

Her sister Arya was missing.

Her septa had been killed.

Her mother and her brother were considered traitors.

Sansa, in her naivety, had invoked and hoped that the one she considered her "sweet lord" would show kindness and clemency towards her family, towards her father, towards the father of the one she was supposed to marry, but this never happened. Joffrey had shown to his bride – to – be and all of King's Landing who he truly was: a monster.

A monster disguised as a king, a monster who hid well his nature with his round face, light eyes and blond hair, a monster who can hid very well if you knew how to please him.

It was an early morning, Sansa always woke up at the crack of dawn now.

Her heavy sleep, the one she had at Winterfell, was only a sweet memory.

Since that day, since that terrible day, Sansa could barely get a few hours' rest.

She looked at herself in the mirror and noticed how pale she was, how even her hair was dull.

She was turned off.

She began to brush her hair, long red tufts began to fall to the floor, doing that habitual gesture, Sansa thought that until a year ago she would never have combed her hair, she would have left the task to one of the maids, but that too was a pale memory.

Since she was living in King's Landing, she had changed, she had become even thinner and even taller, her hair had become longer, but her look was always that of a little girl too scared of everything and everyone.

The morning of King Joffrey’s name day dawned bright and windy, with the long tail of the great comet visible through the high scuttling clouds. Sansa was watching it from her tower window when Ser Arys Oakheart arrived to escort her down to the tourney grounds. “What do you think it means?” she asked him. “Glory to your betrothed,” Ser Arys answered at once. “See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace’s name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey’s Comet.” Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. “I’ve heard servants calling it the Dragon’s Tail.” “King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son,” Ser Arys said. “He is the dragon’s heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey’s ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies.” Is it true? she wondered. Would the gods be so cruel? Her mother was one of Joffrey’s enemies now, her brother Robb another. Her father had died by the king’s command. Must Robb and her lady mother die next? The comet was red, but Joffrey was Baratheon as much as Lannister, and their sigil was a black stag on a golden field. Shouldn’t the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?

Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. “You look very lovely today, my lady,” Ser Arys said. “Thank you, ser.” Knowing that Joffrey would require her to attend the tourney in his honor, Sansa had taken special care with her face and clothes. She wore a gown of pale purple silk and a moonstone hair net that had been a gift from Joffrey. The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey’s gifts as well. When they told him that Robb had been proclaimed King in the North, his rage had been a fearsome thing, and he had sent Ser Boros to beat her. “Shall we go?” Ser Arys offered his arm and she let him lead her from her chamber. If she must have one of the Kingsguard dogging her steps, Sansa preferred that it be him. Ser Boros was short-tempered, Ser Meryn cold, and Ser Mandon’s strange dead eyes made her uneasy, while Ser Preston treated her like a lackwit child. Arys Oakheart was courteous and would talk to her cordially. Once he even objected when Joffrey commanded him to hit her. He did hit her in the end, but not hard as Ser Meryn or Ser Boros might have, and at least he had argued. The others obeyed without question . . . except for the Hound, but Joff never asked the Hound to punish her. He used the other five for that.

The young woman could now only move in that way, she was in a cage. The one in which she lived was a golden cage in which she had the illusion of being able to fly, but then there were always the beatings or the various harassments to remind her of the place in which she lived.

She arrived near the royal box on which King Joffrey, his sister Myrcella and his little brother Tommen were all excited at the idea of ​​being able to participate in the tournament in their own way, behind them towered the Hound, as imposing as he was scary as always.

"Your Highness." Sansa greeted with a short bow.

Joffrey gave her a quick look. “Sit down and let me watch the tournament!” the boy ordered her sharply, Sansa lowered her gaze and complied. Sansa hoped that sooner or later she could change her king, she deluded herself that with her gentle ways sooner or later the beast who sat on the Iron Throne could become a king worthy of the name.

“Ser Hobber of House Redwyne, of the Arbor,” the herald sang.

“Lothor Brune, freerider in the service of Lord Baelish,” cried the herald.

“Cut off his head!” King Joffrey shouted amusedly.

The two knights began a fight to the death, Sansa had never tolerated the sight of blood, she had seen very little of it, or at least until she arrived in the South. From that moment on she had seen too much blood...

She trusted that she was strong by now and had gotten used to it, but seeing that man bleeding to death made her feel deeply bad, the King laughed and actually incited the other knight to cut off his opponent's head. Far from displeasing His Grace, the other soldier obeyed and Sansa closed her eyes, placing a hand over her heart.

The sight reminded her of the execution of her father, Ned Stark.

“Is something wrong, My Lady?” Joffrey asked her with feigned interest. Sansa forced herself to open her eyes and look at the young man's face "You are very pale, is something bothering you?"

Sansa cracked a smile. “It's all right, Your Grace. I'm very warm. Could I retreat to my rooms?” he asked in the sweetest tone the girl possessed.

"Now? But how? Now Ser Hobber will bring the loser's head before me. Don't you want to please your King?”

Sansa swallowed. “As you command, Your Highness.”

Ser Hobber arrived shortly after holding the sword still dripping blood in one hand and the mercenary's head in the other, he held it out at Joffrey's feet who with a chilling smile showed it to Sansa who forced herself to endure that sight.

“Thank you for your services.” Joffrey said with a small smile.

“Ser Meryn?” continued the sovereign. “See that this head is placed on a pike.”

"Of cours, My King." the Royal Guard said without another word.

A few moments later Joffrey gave permission for the young Stark to retreat to her rooms: he had gotten what he wanted. The fear and respect of her bride – to – be.

Sansa was escorted by the Hound to her chambers, neither she nor Clegane said a word.

The girl was sincerely shocked, she understood that Joffrey was a sadist, but stupidly she kept hoping that things would get better sooner or later and instead they just got worse.

“I already gave you this advice, but perhaps the little bird didn't understand me.” he said harshly.

Sansa, head down, said, "I thought things could get better..."

Sandor laughed “Silly little bird, do you really think someone like the King can change?” the man abruptly reminded her “Either you are really stupid or you are just too naive!” he added.

The young woman lowered her head, the Hound made her uncomfortable when he called her 'little bird' or scolded her: the effect was the same.

"Look at me!" he exclaimed in an almost angry tone "Always give him what he wants and he won't hurt you, tell him no and he'll put you through hell, dare to contradict him and you'll have a decidedly unhappy time."

Sansa looked at him sadly "And take away that look, you will never have King Joffrey’s mercy!"

“How can I win him then?” Sansa dared to ask, looking at the man's unburned side.

The man laughed again “You're asking the wrong person. If you want some fucking love advice, then you should talk to one of the Queen's women, they always know what to say and when to say it.

In any case, little bird, your heart is too soft. You won't get anywhere like this. You have to learn to lie to survive.”

They arrived in front of the girl's rooms, the Hound, just before leaving her, said to her «What a pretty little thing you are. A hound smells the stench of lies, you know? Look around and smell carefully: they’re all liars here…»  then he left her alone and confused.

That evening, as well as the following evenings, Sansa did not sleep well.

She often thought about her brothers, her sister, her mother, she hoped and prayed with all her heart that they were safe or at least alive wherever they were. Sansa was afraid about her life, but also for all the people dear to her, she couldn't bear to be the last living Stark.

[envysnest]

Pity the Mayfly (ch. 5/?) - an Astarion/Tav fic

AO3 Link Here

Chapters: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6

You had come to the Gate to forget your past, discard your elven name, and pursue alchemy against your family's wishes. On a visit to your old keep, you're found by the Nautiloid, and everything tilts sideways.

TW's for this chapter: Rape flashback (non-graphic) in the first two paragraphs of section 3; mild blood and descriptions of bruising (bite time!).

————

Wyll trails behind the rest of your group. With every new encounter on the road, Wyll ducks behind Karlach or Gale, hiding his horns from friendly strangers. He fights enemies with robotic fervor: stab, swing, toss. Stab, swing, toss: like a bored fishmonger beheading their wares. Everyone treads lightly around you two, and it isn’t long before you and Wyll are walking alone, yards away from the rest of your party.

You keep your voice low. “How did this happen, Wyll?”

“It's a 'gift' from my master. A token of her appreciation, you could say.” He looks miserable. “Pipeweed made it hurt less, so cheers for that.”

You shiver. “I’m sure I’ve got a numbing cream for the horns. Perhaps Violet Lily will do it?"

Wyll does smile a little, and you count it as a victory. “Didn’t you say something about an Ethel? Perhaps she’s got something for an Infernal Curse.”

“I…” You slow down to keep pace beside him. “She said she had Yellow Gnoll’s Ear back at her cottage. That mushroom would also help dull your pain.”

Wyll puts a gentle hand on your upper back. “You should have said something earlier,” he murmurs. “Had I known you needed extra care, I would have--"

The goodwill inside of you is gone, replaced by irritation. You shy out of Wyll’s grip. “I don’t need extra care,” you huff.

Wyll holds up both hands. He has that miserable look in his eye again. Shame, you realize, it’s shame.

“Sorry,” he says, and something in his face twitches— crumples, briefly— before he smiles. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

You grimace. “Let’s just…” You pinch the bridge of your nose and inhale slowly. The air smells like apple blossoms; fall would be here soon. It relaxes you. "We'll head south, but only for a moment. I’m not going to waste the group’s time—”

“I could use the Gnoll’s Ear too, Tav. If you need an excuse, then by all means, lean on me.”

An excuse: you didn’t have to tell the group why you needed to find Ethel’s cottage. Why would he offer that to you? What did he get out of it?

You pause in the path; Wyll stops with you. He waits calmly as you stare at him, at his new red eye and his horns and his ridged neck. Wyll worries something at his hip with his right hand: a small, braided rope of leather. It looked like something a child would make: a decorative little thing, a keepsake. It was tied to his belt, right next to his rapier. Wyll guides the braid over his middle knuckle.

He looks up at the sky. "Tav--"

“Tavvendish,” Lae’zel calls from further up the path. “A moment?”

“Coming!” you shout back. You turn to Wyll, who watches the group from over his shoulder. You curtsey to him. “Thank you, Wyll."

Wyll jumps and looks back to you. “Any time, Tav.” He gives you a little bow, but it’s unsteady. “Remember you’re not alone in this.”

Yes, you think, I am.

The party huddles around something, but what, you can't see; you catch a smattering of brown fur in the dirt road. Lae’zel cranes her neck to stare at you over Karlach’s shoulder. You exchange glances with Wyll. He raises both eyebrows and jerks his head towards Lae'zel. You approach the party.

Karlach nudges the brown, furry lump with her sword. “It’s so light. What in the hells happened to it?”

“I don’t see what’s so interesting.” Astarion stands some distance away, examining his nails. “An animal was killed by something-or-other, probably one of those vipers Tavvendish is obsessed with. We’ve seen hundreds of animals by now, haven’t we?”

You squeeze past Shadowheart and Gale. Finally, you see what the brown, furry lump is: it's a boar carcass turned on its side. Dark brown blood pools underneath it. Its neck bears two pinprick holes, each perfectly symmetrical: a bite of some kind, but a large one, bigger than you’ve ever seen before.

You touch the boar’s fur, and its corpse shifts easily under your palm. A pale tongue lolls out of its skull as it flops to one side. You press down on its neck, palpating around the bite, but nothing seeps from the wounds. You furrow your brow, press harder. Still, the bite remains stubbornly dry.

“It’s…empty,” you say aloud. “No blood.”

Astarion throws his hands in the air. “It probably bled out on the path! Fascinating!"

"Not enough for a boar," you reply.

Lae’zel crouches down with you. “It’s fresh. This must have happened hours ago. The rot has not set in yet.”

“’Least it doesn’t smell,” says Karlach. Her armor jingles as she shivers: “Brrrrr! Hate flies.”

“Yes, yes.” Astarion waves to the path. “Let’s move along before they lay their eggs.”

You place your index finger and thumb between the bite marks. From a rough estimate, the bite was too large to be a rosebush viper, or any snake in this region. Too small to be a gnoll’s, certainly, but then what else could it be? You can only think of the Monkshood Spider-- the males were as large as a man-- but that species preferred warmer locales, certainly ones lacking apple blossoms. And the Monkshood genus had a more obvious curve to their fangs—

“Any luck, Tav?” Gale asks.

“I can’t place this,” you say. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Karlach’s hand appears in your vision, and she points at the bite. “Astarion, mate. Not enough blood around for a stab.”

You turn to your pack, fish around for your notebook and charcoal. “Do you mind?” you say up at the group. “I’d like to document this. It will only be a minute.”

Astarion presses both palms to his face and lets out a muffled, frustrated scream. 

Lae’zel stands. “We waste our time here,” she says, looking at each person individually. “If Tavvendish cannot offer an identification—”

“Let the woman work,” Shadowheart snaps. “It’s not as if we’re turning into mind flayers anytime soon.

“Not yet, we aren't,” growls Lae’zel.

“Oh, shit, Tavvy.” Karlach points at your drawing. “Looks just like it. You’re good at this!”

“Thank you,” you say.

“It’s a boar,” Astarion grits out. “Can we go now?”

“There’s another explanation for this.” It's Wyll, behind you. “The boar is exsanguinated.”

"Ex-sangui-huh?" Karlach mutters.

“Wyll,” you say, not looking up as you sketch the musculature of the neck. “That book was nonsense. You can’t possibly believe it.”

“I’m not talking about your book, Tav. Vampires are very real besides.”

Astarion scoffs. “Tell us more fairy tales, oh Duke Ravengard.”

“Quiet,” you snap at Astarion. “You’ve been a boor all morning.”

Astarion scoffs again and puts his hands on his hips. “I’m merely trying to keep us focused,” he drawls, leaning towards you. “We’ve all got tadpoles in our head, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Lae’zel reaches for your notebook, and you instinctively jerk it out of reach.

There’s a pause, then:

“Tavvendish,” says Lae’zel: low, and with an emotion you can't name. “Finish quickly. It’s nearly mid-day.”

“I know,” you say, willing yourself to keep your voice level and your charcoal steady. “One second.”

Her eyebrows raise, just slightly. “A minute more, then,” she says.

“By Silvanus, a minute’s all I need.”

Wyll speaks again. “We should proceed with caution. If there is a vampire lord in the area, then we aren’t adequately prepared for what follows. We need to warn the Grove.”

“I can do a little for a vampire,” says Shadowheart. “But if it’s a vampire lord, we won’t stand a chance.” She hesitates. “Wyll's right. Perhaps we'd better listen."

“Shall I beat my head against a tree, then?” Astarion says. “Will that make everyone listen?”

You blow dust off of your drawing. “It will certainly shut you up.”

“Tav,” says Gale, but he's trying not to laugh. “Be nice, won’t you?”

“I’ll be nice when he—” and you point at Astarion with the charcoal, “—returns the favor.”

Karlach tuts. “Dunno, Astarion. I wouldn’t mess around with a poisoner, not unless you want to shit out your mouth for a tenday.”

“I can’t do that,” you mutter, just as Astarion gasps: “How vile!”

Karlach leans in: you know, because you feel heat beating against your hair. “He doesn’t have to know that,” she stage-whispers to you. “I’m sick of the little ponce, myself.”

Across from you, Lae’zel huffs. It takes you a moment to realize: it's a laugh.

————

Back at the Grove, your party splits apart again. In one dark corner, Zevlor's speaking to Wyll with with great urgency; the warlock merely crosses his arms and stares at the floor, nodding occasionally.

With a shaking hand, Zevlor gestures to Wyll's horns. Wyll winces and turns away.

“‘Scuse me,” says a child.

You look down. A tiefling, no older than seven or eight, blinks up at you. He folds his hands together, then unfolds them, then folds them again.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” he says, digging one toe into the dirt. “But my friends and I need gold for our lunch—”

He points, and you follow his finger to a gaggle of tiefling children in front of the baker's, begging for food. Some of them are small, small enough to need tiptoes to see over the stall's edge. When the baker shakes his head, the children whine in unison.

The tiefling boy turns back to you. “Wouldn’t you mind? It’s just three gold for a mince pie. We can split it. Just need the one.”

A single mince pie wasn’t nearly enough for that many children. Your siblings, yourself included, usually demolished a pie each. You’d spent countless hours in the kitchen with your eldest brother Trisrel while your parents were in the workshop. Trisrel had married a Baker, and he brought back endless recipes, tricks for doing more with the Carvers's less.

You fish out your coin purse. Only a few ten-pieces roll around. Three per pie, per seven…and some of them were older, too, already towering above the rest. They’d need two each. You think of another night slaving away over rosebush viper antivenom, and then you remember Ethel’s promise of Yellow Gnoll’s Ear, and you briefly panic. You could, perhaps, beg Wyll for gold…

“I don’t know, sprout…” You trail off. The boy clasps his hands together in earnest supplication.

“Pleaaaase?” he asks.

Another timid voice pipes up beside you: “Is that really you?”

You turn around and lock eyes with a tiefling girl. You recognize her: the very same child from the Grove, the one Kagha had threatened with the Horned Opal.

“Thank you again, miss.” Her voice is soft, hesitant. She bows to you. “For the other day. I didn’t mean any harm by it.”

“Harm by what?” you ask. You crouch down to her level, and the tiefling backs away. She turns her face from you.

“It was just a joke,” she says. “Honest. I wanted to— um— I took Silvanus for a laugh. Won’t do it again! Swear on me mum, I won't.”

She looks so much like your youngest sister, Mira, that it pains you. The last time you saw Mira, the last time you visited Fox’s Keep, she had clutched your robes. Don’t go, sis, she had cried: sis, because back then, she was still too young for sister. You had planned to spend at least an afternoon with her on this upcoming visit, but then-- well, the Nautiloid happened.

You look between the children. “What are your names?"

The girl rubs her eyes with two closed fists. “Arabella,” she murmurs.

"Zaki," says the boy.

“Well, then, Arabella. Zaki.” You fiddle with your coin purse. “I am Tav. And I know the Oak Father would forgive you for having a laugh.”

Arabella lifts her head. “Really?”

“Really and truly.” You place one hand over your heart: “I promise, by Silvanus himself.”

“You’re not—” She turns to you, wringing her hands. “You’re not cross with me, are you, miss? Tav.”

Once, your Nana scolded your mother in front of you: Children must be disciplined. They should learn to respect authority. How your cheek had stung from her slap. Your mother had tugged on your wrist, then, urging you upright, just as Rav had done with Arabella.

You smile at her. “So long as you don’t do it again. Can you promise me that, Arabella?”

She presses her own hand to her heart, mimicking you. “I solemnly swear,” she says.

“Good girl. All is well.”

Arabella smiles back at you. She hesitates.

“What about lunch?” she asks.

Oh. It made sense that the statue thief would know how to spin a yarn. You frown. “You promised, Arabella. I mean it— don’t do it again.”

“Honest!” Arabella blurts out. “We’re just…” She exchanges glances with Zaki. “Hungry.”

“Really hungry,” Zaki adds. “Please? Pretty please?”

Arabella gasps. “I have rocks!” She digs around in her pockets and produces a small agate crystal. She shoves it at you. “Bet you anything it’s magic!” 

"Hmmmm." You pretend to appraise the stone with a critical eye. Arabella shoves the stone into your waiting hand: “See?”

“Very lovely,” you say. You put your hand to your chin and hold the agate to the light. There is a faint tingle of the Weave around it, eerily enough: low and droning, like a hum. You make a questioning noise. “No, Arabella, you keep this. I’ll give you the gold.”

Zaki claps and does a little spin. “Yay!” 

Arabella fights another smile as you pass her crystal back to her. “Really?” she asks, eyes wide; she clutches the crystal protectively to her chest.

“Really really," you say, and you turn to Zaki. “You should all be properly fed. I’ll give you enough for a pie each, with a little left over for a sweetie. How’s that?”

Zaki’s mouth hangs open. He and Arabella exchange excited glances.

“Only the once,” you say to your coin purse. “I’ve no money besides.” You count out gold pieces into Arabella’s waiting hands. “And what do we say?”

“Thank you!” Zaki stage-whispers. Arabella follows suit, albeit shyly: “Thaaank youuu.”

“Good children always say thank you.” You glance between Arabella’s palm and your coin purse. “How many of you are there, again?”

“Really?” Astarion drawls behind you, and you start. “Are you just going to give all our gold away?”

You glare at him over your shoulder. He raises his eyebrows and inclines his head towards you.

“Well?” he asks.

You turn back to the tiefling children. “Don’t listen to him,” you stage-whisper. “He also wants a gift."

Astarion splutters indignantly. Zaki giggles. 

You place a hand on Arabella’s shoulder, gently urging her towards her friends. “Go on, little sprout,” you say. “Buy whatever you’d like.”

Arabella runs to them with the fistful of gold lofted high in the air, shrieking with delight. Zaki scrambles along behind her. All of the children hop up and down. “Mince pies!” someone shouts, and the others join in: "Mince pies!" They dance around each other eagerly: “Mince pies! Mince pies! Mince pies!”

You dust your robes off and stand. Familiar black spots appear at the edges of your vision, and you stumble backwards, your hand pressed to your forehead. You kept forgetting to stand up slowly. The tadpole stirs, squeaks a little.

“I’ve never seen a group so excited over mince pies,” Astarion says over your shoulder. He crosses his arms. In a lower register, he mutters to you, “Rather irritates me, if I’m honest.”

“Children irritate you?” you say. The children have gathered around the baker’s table, all reaching upwards for their meals. You hear the coins hit the table with a clatter. The baker smiles, relieved, at you as they wrap the pies in crisp wax paper. One by one, they give the children their pies, and you hear their little voices: “Thank you!” “Thank you.” “Thank you, saer!” “Thank youuu!”

“--can’t stand the little monsters.” Astarion pouts. “Gods. I really can’t believe you gave our gold away?"

I think there's another child needs feeding. You gesture to the children. “They were hungry, Astarion. What was I meant to do, let them starve?”

“Well,” and here Astarion smirks at you, all sarcasm and bitterness, “perhaps you let some other poor fool feed the pigs next time.”

You turn on your heel to sneer at him. “I can’t believe you, Astarion! Denying food to children? Heavens forbid you think of someone else for once.”

Astarion straightens, and suddenly, he's not smiling at all. There’s a cold look in his eyes you can’t place. “I’m only looking out for number one, dearest,” he says, but there’s no mirth in it.

“Well—”

The children race past you with their food. A few bump into your legs, teetering you off-balance. 

“Oi!” you shout at Arabella. She stumbles and turns around, trailing behind the rest of the group as they vault over the grass. “Don’t go running with a full belly!” you call.

Arabella curtsies, giggling, and rushes to join the others. You can hear her yelling at her little group: “Miss Tav said to sit! Don’t run!”

Astarion gives you a pointed look. “Any other kind advice, mother dearest?”

You feel the barb in your side. “Seven younger siblings." You watch the children climb a grassy hill and settle at the top. “Sometimes I was the one who raised them.”

The tiefling children, some still standing, tuck into their meals. One stomps their feet excitedly; his friend bounces on his toes.

“Should’ve tormented the little beasts with your spiders.” Astarion immediately brightens. “Wouldn’t that be fun?” He taps your arm with the back of his knuckles, laughing. “How they’d scream!”

You jerk your arm out of his reach. “It would stress the children and the animals.”

“Oh no!” Astarion sighs with practiced theatrics. “Won’t someone think of the deadly, poisonous spiders?”

“Poison is something you eat,” you snap over your shoulder. “Venom is used by something that eats you.”

Astarion wails like he's been stabbled. He sways onto the path in front of you, staggering and coughing. “I weep for them,” he cries at the dirt, running his fingers over his cheeks. “The poor, defenseless darlings!” He looks directly at you and gasps. “Thank goodness Tavvendish Carver is here to care for them! Praise the Oak Father! It’s a divine miracle!”

You nod. “Finished?”

Astarion visibly deflates as he glares at you. “Yes, I’m finished. I put work into that, you know.”

Someone tugs your robes as he's talking, and you look down to see a curly-haired tiefling boy. He has half of the mince pie in his free hand; the other half— or what looks it— fills his cheeks to bursting.

“‘Fanks f’r lumch, ma’am,” he says; crumbs fly out of his mouth with each word. Before you can respond, he shuffles forward and wraps his arm around your leg.

Your heart leaps as he closes his eyes. You pet the boy's hair fondly, even though he’s now getting crumbs on your trousers. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. But you’re very welcome.”

From beside you, Astarion bends forward. “Come here, sweetling,” he coos at the boy. “Are you afraid of spiders?”

“Astarion,” you growl.

The boy’s eyes go wide. He freezes in place, mouth poised in mid-chew, hiding from Astarion behind your leg. He shakes his head dramatically.

“Ignore him!” you chirp, leaning into the tiefling boy’s eyeline, and he looks up at you. “Go and sit with your friends.”

When the child’s eyes, distrustful, slide back to Astarion, you usher him towards the other children. “Run along, sprout. Don’t mind him. Finish your pie.”

Slowly, with eyes still trained on Astarion, he lets go of your leg. You nudge him, and like a startled deer, he runs for the others. Some of the children have already finished their pies and lounge in the grass, chattering in small clumps. Two tieflings start a hand game, its pattern unfamiliar to you: 

"Stella and Bella, walking in two  Up the path where the wildbelles bloom Found a bard and this he said: ‘I can rhyme as many as…’  One, clap, two, clap clap, three, clap clap clap, four…”

“Hellooo?” Astarion snaps his fingers inches from your face. “You didn’t answer my question.”

You scrunch your nose. “What question?”

"Oh, forget it.”

Irritation flares in you. “Duly noted. I will.”

You turn your back on the tieflings and head deeper into the Grove. Astarion, likely smelling victory, follows in close pursuit.

“You know, I’ve never noticed before— there’s a bit of green in your hair!” He tousles your hair, and you bat his hand away. “In the light, it offsets the brown quite nicely. Though…” He cups his hand around his mouth, drops his voice to a whisper: “You’re also going a bit gray.”

“I am well aware.” You snarl at him. “Do not pull my hair.”

“And ruin those lovely curls? I’d never.” He fans a hand wide behind his head. “Haven’t you seen me? I know your texture like the back of my hand.”

“If it were you, Astarion, I would have fed you, too.”

His footsteps halt behind you, but you don’t care. You keep walking.

"Eats like a bird, anyway," you mutter.

Astarion is nowhere to be seen the rest of the day.

————

Kestral is on you again. His hands-- all-encompassing, warm-- are down your blouse. You hear someone else laughing; a woman congratulates him, then congratulates you. Kestral laughs with her. You cannot move; you are helpless here, in this forested darkness, with his hands holding you down. You can only stare at your fellow Trialmates, hoping one of them will pull him away. They do not pull him away. You can taste his lip piercing in your mouth.

Kestral swings his leg over you. No, you think, squirming under him, this isn’t how it went— this isn’t how he—

Someone is on top of you.

You gasp for air, and the scene resolves itself in an instant: you are at camp, and it is seventy-four years after your Trial, and there is a tadpole squealing in your head, and Astarion hovers over you with his mouth over your throat.

Instantly, you go rigid, eyes darting over the roof of your tent. Fighting would only make it worse, you knew that. Better let Astarion finish quickly and leave you alone. Fool, you think. You should’ve known better, should’ve seen the way he looked you up and down after a battle. You think of his cool fingers tracing the Witch Bolt, think of his laughter, and you shiver. How many times would it take for you to learn?

Astarion isn’t moving. Rather, he stays there, lying on top of you, and you hear him inhale. Your lips are moving, forming well-rehearsed pleas— no, stop, please, not here, don’t hurt me— but never speaking them. You’re trembling, you realize, and you’re embarrassingly, inexplicably aroused. You loathe yourself for it.

You hear his lips part— there's something sharp against your throat—

--and this time, with this man, you do manage to speak. “No:" Feeble. Pleading.

Astarion stumbles back, shielding his head with his arm. He’s talking and gesturing everywhere; you can’t hear a word over the ringing in your ears. You swallow, frozen in place.

He leans towards you, eyes wide and curious, and in the split-second it takes for him to clamp his mouth shut, you see them: curved incisors, long and sharp and glistening in the moonlight. 

The boar from earlier— the size of the bite—

Oh, you think. OH.

You sit up. Astarion cowers from you instantly, pressing his back to the other wall of the tent. Slowly, as if you emerged from underwater, his voice comes into focus: “—let me explain, I can— please, darling, don’t be upset—”

“Astarion,” you croak. You clear your throat, willing yourself to calm down. You need to know; you need to hear it from him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he snaps, but the fear in his eyes is unmistakable. “Let me explain!”

Explain? Was there a justification for why he was...?

Your adrenaline tilts, dizzyingly, to anger. Before you can stop yourself, you lean towards him; he brings his knees to his chest.

“Start talking,” you hiss, “or I am going to rip your bloody hair out by the root.”

“I was hungry!” Astarion cries. “Pl—please, I— I was only going to be a moment, my love— you wouldn’t have known I was there—”

You have to know. “Hungry for what?”

“Are you dim?” He lowers his arms just enough to glare at you over them. “What did you think? You said you’d feed me—”

“I thought,” you say—

And you can’t bring yourself to say more: how you thought he was here to rape you, how you were ready for it. How this was an inevitability: the price you paid for social interaction with others. How you were a toy, and how the world was full of sticky, prying, greedy hands. 

You slump. “I don’t— I don’t know what I thought.”

Astarion scoffs. “Well—I wasn’t—” He tsks with frustration. “I was here for—well—”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, and you see his fangs again, and all at once you feel relief.

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes until you see stars. “Thank Silvanus. I thought it was something else.”

The peepers by the riverside are deafening. Astarion leans towards you, and the moonlight from the tent flap carves his face out in stark white. “You’re—” His voice is small. “What did you think I was doing?”

“Oh--" You wave a hand and smile. "Never mind.”

“No, not never mind. Tell me.” He pauses. “Did you think I would take advantage of you? Be honest.”

This was not a conversation you wanted to have in the middle of the night. You deflect: “How is biting me in my trance not ‘taking advantage?'"

Astarion leans back on his heels. “Fine,” he huffs. “You’ve made your point, darling.” 

“Why didn’t you ask me for blood sooner?” 

He curls into a ball at the foot of your bedroll. “Oh yes,” he says quietly. “Let’s ask the alchemist for blood. What a spectacular idea. You probably know a thousand ways to kill a vampire.”

You cross your arms. “I’ve never even met a vampire.”

“Congratulations, dearest. You have now. Or—” He waves dismissively. “A spawn, anyway. So sorry to disappoint.” 

You have a thousand questions: where is your master? When were you sired? Are your fangs hinged? How are you walking in the sun? Is this why you take the watch every night?

But Astarion’s eyes dart to the side, and you look closer: his bony, frail wrists, his right middle finger tapping a quick staccato on the mat below him, his defined collarbones. He breathes shallowly, rapidly; the staccato gets unsteady. You suspect those high cheekbones and sculpted jaw aren’t just vanity.

“You’d like to feed on me,” you breathe.

Astarion gives you a sarcastic bow, his mouth drawn tight in a mocking smile. “Yes, dear, how kind of you to notice,” but his voice shakes, and, oh—

The poor thing is hungry. 

You think of buying pies for the children in the tiefling camp, their eager faces, how they had all said “thank you,” in unison. You think of how some ate the pies standing, as if they couldn’t wait to fill their bellies. You thought Astarion judged you for feeding them, wanted to spoil the moment, but Astarion had done something else entirely.

He didn't come to you because you were easy. He came to you because you were generous.

“May I lie down?” you ask. 

He rolls his eyes. “It’s your tent—”

“No, I mean for the—” Feeding sounds strange, even erotic. You look away. “For when you— I faint easily.” You lean back on your elbows. “I’ll lose consciousness. I have to be lying down for it.”

Astarion blinks, but he leans forward, towards you, eyes wide. “You’re— you’re just going to let this happen?”

You recline on your bedroll. “Do not kill me,” you say. “That’s all I ask.”

“I— Tavvendish, really?” He’s already crawling around your bedroll, towards your head, even as he admonishes you: “You’d let a spawn, someone you just met, bite you? Have you no survival instinct?”

You fold your hands over your stomach. This was terrifying, yes; Astarion licks his lips over you, and you wince. There’s that expired Malice in your pack, within arm’s reach; perhaps, if things went sideways…

“Should I say no?” you ask.

“No no no!” Astarion says softly, voice pitching high. “This works out well in my favor, you understand.” He leans an elbow on the other side of your head, draping himself over your torso. “I just…” He leans away, catches your eyes. “Are you…are you quite sure?”

You stare down at his mouth. His fangs are long and very frighteningly sharp. They have a slight curve to them, like a snake’s fangs. Astarion can’t close his mouth fully like this. Hinged, you think; he must hide them in polite company. That alcoholic smell is overpowering now, like cheap liquor. 

He cradles your head in his hands; they are shaking. Tender like a lover, he turns your head towards him, exposing your neck. 

“Please,” he begs quietly, so low only you can hear. “I’ll only be a moment.”

In the space between one breath and the next, he clamps down. You grunt, jolting in your bedroll. You can’t move against his cold fangs, as if they’ve pinned you to the floor. Astarion inhales—

And oh: there's a rush of paradoxical warmth where Astarion’s fangs pierce your skin. You had always questioned the appeal of a vampire's bite-- had read plenty about swooning maidens and unholy marriages for pleasure, certainly very late at night, and certainly while under the covers— but this? You go limp in Astarion's arms; your pulse thumps between your legs. Astarion whimpers and sucks at the wound, slurping noisily at your artery; you can’t find it in you to care. It feels something like the pipeweed filling you, your body vibrating with pleasure, your stack of books breathing slowly where you stare at them. Perhaps there is such a thing as vampire venom: simple chemistry at work, a muscle relaxant secreted from his fangs to encourag you o relax, ncorage yu 

              t lt 

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                                       o                                           oo          o              o             

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ooo                                     o                                                          o                    ooooooo     o

And all at once you remember, No, I’m losing blood, that’s too much, and you whisper, “Astarion,” hoarse and feeble, your head feeling as if it’s stuffed with cotton, and Astarion doesn’t stop, if anything he grips you tighter to his chest, and your ears are ringing and your vision is going black around the edges and you think of crushing hands and mouths and lip piercings and suddenly you push and that forces Astarion to unlatch with a gasp, as if he’s surfacing from some very, very deep ocean. His mouth is a bright cherry red.

You are very, very dizzy.

Astarion laughs; its tempting to laugh with him, but you're too exhausted to try. He wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand. “Tav,” he gasps. “That—”

You push yourself up, but your head spins. You slouch into your bedroll.

Astarion laughs again, disbelieving. It's nothing like the mocking laughs you’ve heard from him before: this one is light, boyish. “I… oh!” He presses his hand to his forehead and giggles. “I feel so much— stronger! That is lovely! Like...like a-- coffee on a rainy day--” 

There's a flush across his stupid, grinning face. You get the urge to kiss him, to jump into his lap, but your body refuses to move. White fractals explode behind your eyelids. You try to say his name, but all that comes out is a woozy, “‘ssstar—”

His fluttering hands land on your shoulder. “I thank you, Tavvendish,” he says quietly; his smile nearly splits his face in two; his fangs are still out. “You’ve given me an unspeakably generous gift.” 

Every nerve in your body sings. “Wh’yd y’ mean?” you mumble.

“I mean—” He cups your face in his hands. 

He is so beautiful, you want to kiss him so badly— 

“I can hunt now," he continues, touching his temple. My head is clear. Clear! For the first time in— why, I don’t know when.”

You can’t look at him without thinking of ripping off his clothes. Charm, you think weakly, the venom’s doing this. You turn your head and close your eyes. “Y’re welc’m.”

“Rest now, darling,” says Astarion above you, and you slip into blissful nothing.

————

“—the creche should be our priority—”

You startle awake.

“—said we should search for the druid Halsin—”

“No,” Lae’zel snaps. Her voice is hoarse around the edges. “I’ve had enough of being led across Faerun without rhyme or reason. We must focus. Our surest chance of a cure is the creche.��

“Now, Lae’zel,” Gale says, “our travels may bring us near the—”

Shadowheart cuts in: “Gale.”

Gale’s voice becomes harsh. “We will not survive a gith’yanki creche!”

Lae’zel growls. “You may not—”

You sit up in your bedroll. The sun is already quite high; its white light dapples through the tent. Your head pounds. How long had your trance been, and why couldn't you remember any of it? Had you actually fallen asleep?

Astarion’s wide eyes, his fangs, and then—

Something in your tent smells lovely. It doesn’t take you long to find its source: a gigantic, fresh bun, smelling of cinnamon and cream and sugar, lying on a plate next to your bedroll. A hot mug of coffee steams next to it. The bun is still warm, and the icing melts around your fingers as you lift it to your nose. You can’t detect any poison by scent: only that lovely cinnamon and sour-sweet icing.

Astarion, you remember, and a warm wave rolls over you. You tuck gratefully into the roll.

How strange, that you didn’t know; it seems obvious in hindsight. You sip at the coffee and wrack your brain, but your memories feel fuzzy, far-away. Your headache begins to ease with every bite. Hinged fangs: that much you could remember. Astarion’s fangs must be prehensile. Suddenly voracious, you shove more of the roll into your mouth. The blood loss must have affected you more than you thought. You nearly choke on the following mouthful.

Perhaps vampire fangs were like a cat’s claw: extended from gums for feeding, perhaps by relaxing a small tendon. They had to retract, now that you thought about it; there was no way you would have missed his fangs earlier.

And when Astarion bit you— for several minutes, you had felt—

Incredible.

Light, like floating on air. 

Like you were in love. 

Most importantly, your side had stopped aching. 

You spare an uneasy glance at the entrance to your tent. Part of you is tempted to write the author of Venomous Fauna: it’s venom, no doubt, though a Charm could also be involved. That cold, alcoholic smell on his breath must have been it. You realize, with a start, that he must have been secreting venom for days. You'd have to pay attention today.

The other part of your brain wanted to understand. If there wasn’t a Charm after all, then what could cause that dizzy, euphoric feeling? It couldn’t have just been the blood loss— you had had enough rough encounters to know what that felt like— but then…what else could it be?

You polish off the roll and wipe your hands with a handkerchief. The closest equivalent to that wonderful feeling was a pipeweed high, perhaps a mild hallucinogen. The euphoria made simple evolutionary sense: prey should relax into the bite. You think of his curved fangs, likely meant to hold prey in place. A vampire's victim would have to lie still under them for several minutes, enjoying every second, while the vampire fed.

Then…

He chose you because...?

Coffee in hand, you crawl out of your tent. The sun beats down on you; dragonflies skirt over the water to your right.

Gale, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart argue loudly over the creche. From Shadowheart's side, Wyll shakes his head. Karlach paces a short distance away, rubbing her temples as she goes, muttering, “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…”

Astarion’s eyes flick directly to yours. His lips are pressed tightly shut; he's not participating in the argument so much as quietly observing. As you stare at him, his tongue passes over his teeth-- 

—and he smiles at you.

Your breath hitches. You hold up a hand in greeting.

“Tav,” sighs Wyll, relieved. “Settle something for...us…”

He blanches.

You ask, “What am I settling?” but Wyll is silent. Did you have crumbs on your mouth? No— Wyll’s gaze dips a little lower than that.

You look around: everyone stares with the same vaguely disgusted expression, save Astarion. Astarion merely looks terrified.

“What?” you ask him. “What’s the matter?”

Why is everyone staring at your neck?

You press your hands to where Astarion bit you, but your fingers sink into a tender bruise. "Agh." You withdraw your hand; dried blood sticks to your hand. A muddy brown stain soaks the neck of your blouse.

Five different weapons are drawn at once— and they all point at Astarion. 

Astarion holds his hands up. “It’s— it’s not what you think!”

Lae’zel spits on the ground.

Shadowheart’s lip curls. “You were the last person to enter Tavvendish’s tent,” she says. “Talk.”

Astarion’s trembling. Badly. “It was— I-- she asked!” he shouts. He points an accusing finger at you; he can barely keep it straight. “It was her idea!” His eyes plead with yours. “Wasn’t it, Tav?”

Flames roll off of Karlach’s forearms. “Don’t blame this on Tav,” she growls; she rocks up onto her toes with anticipation. Your heart thumps, rabbit-quick, behind your ribcage. The others grow similarly restless, shifting on their feet.

“Karlach’s right, Astarion,” says Wyll. He narrows his eyes and turns his rapier, just so, and the point presses into the base of Astarion’s skull. “You may walk in the sun, but your bloodlust is as obvious as an ogre in a banquet hall.”

Astarion swallows. He’s still focused on you. “You offered, didn’t you?” he says. “You said I could.”

Gale’s hands are moving in the incantation for Paralyze, he’s trying to shut Astarion up, Lae’zel snarls at Astarion, you have to say something—

“It was consensual!” you blurt.

Gale’s hands stop short. Karlach blinks at you.

“Consensual?” Wyll asks, and his voice cracks. He clears his throat. When he speaks again, it's in his usual authoritative tone: “What do you mean by 'consensual?'”

All eyes are on you.  Astarion has that wide, wondering look again: the very same one from last night. 

You straighten up. “He was hungry. He feeds on animals, but animal blood can’t sustain a vampire. I’d say he’s held off for long enough, wouldn't you? Or are we meant to starve him?”

Lae’zel shifts her grip on her sword. Shadowheart narrows her eyes at you, and you stare back. Her gaze wavers, for just the slightest moment.

“And anyway,” you continue, “Isn’t it best if we rotate feeding duty amongst ourselves? Cut back on the effects of—”

“No,” says Shadowheart.

“No,” says Gale.

“Nah,” says Karlach. To Astarion: “I’d probably burn you, anyway.”

“Tavvendish speaks true.” Lae’zel. “We are only as strong as our weakest fighter. If blood is what Astarion needs for battle, then she has made a wise decision.”

Gale shakes his head. “I’d rather not be a meal for a vampire.”

“Then I’ll do it,” you say.

“As will I,” says Wyll, and the group turns in surprise. He sheathes his rapier. “Astarion, should you have need—”

“No,” Astarion says immediately. “I’m not interested.”

Wyll blinks. “Ouch."

“Is this, like…” Karlach’s sword wavers; she looks around the group. “Like a kink thing?”

Astarion snorts and covers his mouth. You wince. You remember wanting to kiss Astarion, and you shake your head hard, like a dog, as if you could will the memory away. “No, Karlach," you say, "It isn’t a kink thing.”

Karlach sighs. “Thank the gods. I don’t want to see that shit.”

“Now, now.” Gale makes a soothing gesture with both hands. “So long as Astarion—" He gestures to you. "And, er, Tav— keep this to themselves, I’m willing to call them my good friends.”

Astarion rolls his eyes.  “We’re hardly—”

“—friends, Gale,” you say at the same time.

You and Astarion exchange glances.

Gale coughs, his face scrunching in distaste. “Oh, well. Cheers. Teammates, I suppose.” He walks away, muttering to himself: “Gods, a little courtesy wouldn’t be lost on--”

“Keep your fangs to yourself,” Shadowheart huffs at Astarion. “Else I’ll be washing your clothes in holy water.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Astarion drawls. Shadowheart scans his face, and for one tense second, you’re sure she'll kill him--

But she sniffs and turns on her heel instead. “Whatever.”

Karlach lowers her sword as Shadowheart flounces off. “Guess that’s it, then,” she says, “Party’s over.” She gestures to Astarion. “How are you walking in the sun, anyway?”

Astarion rocks back and forth on his toes while he thinks. “I don’t really know. Since the Nautiloid, I’ve been waiting to burn to cinders. But,” he adds, smirking, “I’m not about to look that gift horse in the mouth.”

Karlach smiles at him. “You can say that again. Would rather not have a freaky illithid worm in my brains, but sunshine feels good. What can you do?”

Astarion nods. “Exactly!”

Karlach snaps her fingers and points at you with a smile. “Hey. No kink stuff."

You sigh. “Noted.”

Lae’zel is last to sheathe her sword. “Chk. Mind your manners, istik, or I’ll have no qualms running you through on my blade.”

Astarion gasps and turns to her. “Oh, won't you? I’m trembling like a virgin at the thought!"

Lae’zel tosses her braids out of her face with a smirk. “I’m sure you are." To you, she nods. “Watch him, Tavvendish. Make sure he doesn’t stray out of line.”

“Noted,” you say. “Again.”

Lae'zel returns to her tent. Wyll puts his hand on Astarion’s shoulder. “I mean it, Astarion,” he says. “Do not be a stranger. Only but ask, and you’ll have your blood. But don’t hurt Tav."

Astarion looks at Wyll’s hand. “I’ll…" He looks up at Wyll. "I'll consider your offer."

This seems to satisfy Wyll, because after glancing at you, he leaves. Now, in the daylight, you see Astarion's still wearing the shirt you bought him. His fists clench and unclench; his jaw works, as if he’s grinding his teeth. You look down at the blood stain on your blouse.

Astarion speaks first. “I suppose I owe you another coffee." He makes this awkward, slight little bow, as if he can’t figure out what to do with himself. “You’ll drink Faerun dry of it, darling, faster than you think."

“It was my pleasure, Astarion." Immediately, you want to slap yourself. What a trusting reply, when Astarion himself couldn’t be trusted: he pickpocketed, he teased you relentlessly, he had a nightmare of a temper. Doubtless, you'll have to fight him off of you, night after night, until this damned tadpole was gone. You think of Astarion hovering over you like that again, and bile rises in your throat.

He laughs, loud and sharp. “That adorable kindness will kill you someday." 

“Already has,” you say. “In more ways than one.”

You turn for your tent, but a cold hand seizes your wrist. You look back at him.

“You didn’t like that, did you? How our little meeting began?” Astarion is serious, suspiciously so. “I quite took you by surprise. Next time,” and he does that small, strange bow again, “You’ll have due notice beforehand, sweetheart, I swear. I won’t wake you. You’ll never even know I was there.”

You lips part. His ears are vaguely pink; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush before. It’s…attractive.

You try to keep your voice as neutral as possible: “You’d better bite me in a different place, then. I can’t walk around with bruises all over my neck.

Astarion nods eagerly. “Oh, yes-- yes, I will.” He holds his free hand up. “I promise. There will be more sweet rolls and coffee for your trouble.”

“Why, Astarion!" You can't keep the surprise out of your voice. "Are you well? You sound almost...princely.”

Astarion drops your wrist; he even makes a show of wiping his palm on his shirt. "Ugh. Don’t be ghastly.” 

This Astarion, at least, was familiar. You shrug. “I wouldn’t dream of thinking highly of you. Not on my life.”

“Darling!" Astarion tosses his hair. "We’ll see how much you hate a nightshade when it's in your coffee."

You roll your eyes. “I don’t hate a nightshade,” you sigh. “Nightshade pays the rent. Don’t be a child. I said they were boring.”

“Mm. Give me a discount when we're back home, little woodling." Astarion looks up at you from under his lashes; your stomach does something funny. “We’ll call it even.”

You back away, but there’s a waver in your step. “I’ll remember that." You point at him. "I never forget a face.”

Astarion smirks, and it's too much: you quickly avert your eyes from his, defeated. “Trust me." He draws a circle around his face. "This is a face you’ll never forget."

Your face burns, and you’re not sure if it’s the leftover venom. The other option is far more terrifying.

[roydeezed]

One Piece-Chapter Round-Up(Chapter 1085)

Holy hell, my heart was in my throat the entirety of that chapter. There was such a sinister atmosphere engulfing the first part of this chapter. It really felt like stumbling upon something we shouldn’t have and the fact that we were so close to learning the truth was exhilarating. I don’t want to get into spoilers so I’ll put my more in-depth discussion below the cut. For now check out Franky and the cute turtles! It feels like forever since Franky’s been on one of these cover stories. To be honest I can’t remember the last one with him or Brook. But Franky’s defeated a crab trying to eat the baby turtles and is shepherding them to the sea. I swear that years after it ends people are going to find connections between these Cover Pages and details we haven’t found out. I say that because these baby turtles having to fend for themselves reminds me of how Franky had to fend for himself after being abandoned by his parents. I’m a freak about One Piece so I could go on about how I love Franky’s emotionality and how this reminds me of Tom taking care of a young Cutty Flam but let’s get to what we really should be talking about below the cut!

To save some time and space let’s just say I was very generous with the use of expletives during this entire first part because it was that harrowing. Right away we start off with Imu referring to themselves in the third person while talking in an older style of speech. They talk about how the D clan were their ancient enemy. Coba also says how Imu was the name of one of the 20 Kings. If Imu isn’t Lili, which I still consider a slight possibility, then the fact that Imu cursed her mistakes gives way to a pretty clear narrative. Imu was the one that killed Lili for her mistakes. And if I’m trusting the clues through the dialogue and trusting that cultural differences and translation haven’t obscure anything, then Imu is a child who was given Ope Ope No Mi surgery and has been alive since the Void Century. Imu being alive since the Void Century comes from their formal olden day speech and being young comes from the fact that they refer to themselves in the third person and that it would be along the lines of Oda’s comedy and the parallels we’ve seen so far. Though it could be that Imu thinks of themselves so highly that they refer to themselves in the third person, I’m sticking to Imu being a kid cause it’s hilarious. And finally Imu being given the surgery also suggests one more part of the narrative. That combined with the fact that Imu doesn’t directly condemn Lili, instead wondering at her motives, makes me believe that Lili was the one that sacrificed herself to give Imu eternal life in a show of fealty. At least that’s how I see it playing out. And I can definitely be wrong as last chapter I was speculating that Lili was actually Imu. 

As we see after Imu asks Cobra the question, Cobra admits that he knew he was probably going to die, as he was only holding on to a small sense of hope that was not gonna be the case.  It also seems like Lili was a secret co-conspirator to the D clan as Imu uses this moment to confirm that she indeed was a D. Now getting to the D’s. This gives us a lot of vital clues. But I think the most hope-affirming one is this: It’s not an inherited Name. Bear with me here. What does that mean? I think that the D is a chosen name. And the evidence in this chapter towards it is that there was a seemingly cute but mostly irrelevant flashback to Ace giving Sabo a D in his name. Sure, it was to show that he connected the dots but I think it’s for a deeper purpose. And the other piece of evidence backs that up. And that is that Imu didn’t know that Lili had a D in her name! Despite seeming to be comrades in arms! And the fact that Blackbeard was called a false D. And the stated fact that the D refers to the enemies of the Celestial Dragons. Do you understand? The D isn’t a family name. It’s a name that you take on when you oppose the Celestial Dragons. It’s been there all along! I literally stumbled across this while writing but I believe this wholeheartedly.

And speaking of the D itself. I’ve always been of the mind that it’s been meaning Dawn. Cause think about this. Raftel was actually Laughtale. That clears up any illusion that the D must stand a Japanese word. And then the DON sound effect from the drums of Liberation. Just as how “Laugh” was obscured by being “Raf”, so too, at least in my opinion, is the “Dawn” obscured by “DON”. And obviously Romance Dawn being the title of the first volume and chapter is a huge clue. Alongside that is the idea of passing dreams down being similar to waiting for the dawn to rise. It fits the theme. And not only that. But the sun and moon imagery. The moon, being the lunarians and the kozuki and the minks and many others, who watch over the world and wait as the sun-coded warriors of D, such as the Sun God Nika in Luffy, bring about the dawn. I had previously thought the Dragons and the Gorosei and Imu represented the Moon and the people descended from there, but seeing the hellish and demonic imagery of this chapter makes me believe they represent the darkness and Hell itself. And seeing as we haven’t yet ventured back into a Impel Down like arc, I can see an arc in the future where it utilizes that. 

A few asides before we move on. First of all, the way the Gorosei literally looked like giant demons with their barbed tails, Oni and Akuma like silhouettes makes me think the naming of the Devil Fruits is a misdirect. The dragons have already manipulated history to obscure the true name of the Gomu Gomu No Mi so why couldn’t they do something similar for Devil Fruits? Maybe these powers come from the sacred treasure of Marejois. Some sort of parallel to the apples in the Garden of Eden? Another thing is that thinking of the Lunarians also brought up some ideas. While they are Moon-Coded, their name literally derives from Luna, they also wield the fire of the suns. I wonder if they were the mech pilots of the giant robots that were on Egghead as they required a lot of energy. Or if they were used as energy sources like some Omelas type thing. It would certainly fit with what I think happened to Kuma and his people.

Anyways, I know it seems like this giant figure in the back crawling down the throne in the panel above is Imu but it’s actually one of the Gorosei. As you can see there are two silhouettes on either side, and when the five are shown again, the giant figure become the second one from the left in the panel below. Also we can see the snail capture the photograph that we eventually see in the newspaper.

I wonder if they have something to do with the Giant Shadows at the end of Thriller Bark. Finally, let’s move on to the end. Wapol finds out the truth and saves Vivi, who was captured by CP0. It seems they were carrying out Imu’s orders, who was not only motivated by whatever they saw in the frozen chambers but also their personal goals. 

That brings us to the end. Please let me know what you think of my theory that the D is a taken name because right now, that’s the only thing on my mind. Another thing I want to mention is that it reinforces the idea of inherited will and dreams. And spits in the face of fate and dynasties. Because Luffy chose the will of the D by following Shanks, not because he was Dragons son or Garps Grandson, those two oppose the Dragons their own way. It would also make sense why the Gum Gum Fruit chose him. He chose to oppose the order of the world by being kind. I’m still reeling from this chapter so I’ll end it here but I might reblog in the future if I have anything to add.

[shivstar]

A prongsfoot Au request for all the wonderful writers...

Muggle au with James and Sirius being the part of different gangs.

James whose parents are murdered when he was 13 at the hands of tom riddle because they came up on a gang secret. He hates that man Vows to kill the people responsible.

He joins Dumbledore's gang which is like a gang for the greater good. To maintain peace in society and only kills the bad people. Also is like robbin hood. Unlike the opposing gang which does criminal act for fun.

Dumbles orders James to infiltrate the opposing gang as their crime rate increases. James is to get intel. For this he is tasked to seduce Sirius Black, whom he hates personally for having something he doesn't. A family. For being rich and spoiled.

Meanwhile Lily who is a civillian he has been asking out for so long has agreed to date him finally but he declines her knowing that he has to fake date someone else. And he maybe a gangster but he has morals. He tells her that he has a job abroad for a few months. They both agree to wait a few months to start something new.

And when James meets Sirius his mind blews away. He finds out that there is so mich more to this guy. And without realising he starts to fall in love with him.

Sirius is in love and has always wanted to leave but didn't have the motivation for it. Now he comes out clear to James about his background and his hate for this life and decision to leave. Love gives him courage to act upon his desire to just be done with his shitty life as a gangster.

Meanwhile James just is in denial and still thinks that he is not caught up in the feelings. He feels guilty for using Sirius and playing with his feelings. To that effect he breaks up with Sirius without giving him any reason while to dumbledore and gang he lies that sirius is the one who ended things. The mission ends and he begins half heartedly dating lily who soon falls in love with his act. He doesn't tells her that he is a gang member for obvious reason.

James comes to the epiphany that his relationship with lily is nothing but a big pile of lies on his side as he soon begins to understand that he was so wrong in ever asking her out. Not only because he is ruined for everyone after Sirius but also because lily has a simple life which he shouldn't have entered knowing he is a gangster.

Sirius meanwhile is heartbroken and lost. Bellatrix who is quite fed up from his cousin being all mopey decides to confront james. As a gangster she feels that they can have anyone and wants to bring back james to Sirius by any means possible.

But soon she learns that james is himself a part of their enemy gang. Making her smell fishy business. To get to know what actually happened she sends regulus to remus doing the same wooing thing to find out. Remus is a member of dumbledores gang too.

Remus soon falls for regulus. Only this time it is completely one sided. Once regulus learns what happened he makes sure to let remus knows that he feels nothing for remus but pity and that he never loved him. Regulus was already dating barty jr. all this time whom he loves to death. They both had a great laugh.

Feelings humiliated remus decides to revenge. He plans to kidnap regulus and bring him for torture to their gang. But due to some issue sirius gets kidnapped. Remus does not get deterred knowing that Black family really loves Sirius and they will suffer if Sirius is hurt. Thus indirectly hurting regulus.

After a couple of days of torture Remus decide to bring James in who is his friend thinking that James would love to finish his mission. On learning James goes absolutely feral and finally acknowledges that he is in love with sirius. So much so that he beats remus into a pulp for hurting his man.

Sirius hates James for dumping him and blames him for the kidnap and torture. All while James just wants to nurse his love to health under the nose of dumbledore. While Black family is going crazy because of a missing member.

The angst of knowing that Sirius hates him is killling James so he delivers him back to his family after a few days.

Meanwhile lily learns of her boyfriends gangster career. She gives James the ultimatum to leave the gang Or else.

James feels that he can't run away from the grave he has dug for himself when lily means so little to him. He feels he has to be part of the gang to be closer to sirius somehow. Thye break up. He tells her that he is in love with someone else.

Later lily learns that she is the daughter of the head of the rival gang head tom riddle and her mother had kept her hidden. Riddle on meeting her tells her that he would do anything to make her part of his life as his daughter. Lily, the avenging angel that she is tells riddle that she would accept her position as the next in line if he would bring her Sirius black's head and make James Potter marry her.

On the other hand Remus informs dumbledore of jamess treacherous act. Dumbles is very strict on moles orders to kill James on sight.

Peter whi worships James and is his side kick helps him from their own gang.

Meanwhile the Black family is enraged on learning that riddle wants to make a show of killing Sirius for his suddenly arrived daughter. They unite to save their son and seek james's help once again to keep him protected as all of them are heavily watched.

James for the first time opens up to Sirius. Tells him everything true about himself and his past and his reasoning and his love. His regret and his guilt.

Sirius who has a blind spot for James forgives him after making James earn it.

James tries to convince Sirius to run away with him but Sirius wants revenge. From riddle for James. From Dumbledore. From remus.

They begin a third gang and decide to go full on war.

Their drama full journey with a happy ending

[gorogues]

Spoilers for this week’s episode of Stargirl!

A lot happens in this episode, as can be expected in a series finale. Let's go through it! This is long and spoilery, so it's behind a cut.

There's a flashback to the Ultra-Humanite's brain being put into Sylvester's body nine months ago…and it's even more horrible than anticipated. The Dragon King and Icicle actually revived Sylvester from death, so he was alive but strapped to an operating table, and then they cut into his skull while he was still conscious and fretting about what they'd potentially done to Pat. So he clearly did care about Pat, even if he was kind of an ass about it sometimes. And things get worse: near the end of the episode, we see that someone's preserved Sylvester's brain somewhere and it's reliving his last moments of worrying about Pat and screaming in pain over and over. Holy shit is that ever dark.

Jordan Mahkent tells Cameron that Pat Dugan was murdered by the Ultra-Humanite, and Sofus says in Norwegian not to lie to the boy. Lily tells him in Norwegian to shut up and that he's an old fool, which is surprisingly hostile of her (for all her cruelties, she seemed to care about him), but Jordan continues manipulating his son and asks him to call Courtney and tell her that Starman is at the junkyard. Cameron knows he's not being truthful to her but does it anyway, presumably due to his family's prompting that the group of them can end this war if they team up to fight the Ultra-Humanite.

Meanwhile, Pat thankfully digs himself out of his grave. And Cindy, Jakeem, and Mike are pursued by the Dragon King in the Ultra-Humanite's body. Cindy takes on her dad with her blades, but she's little match for someone in such a large strong body.

Thanks to Cameron's phone call, the JSA goes to the junkyard and meets the Mahkents + the Ultra-Humanite (in Sylvester's body). Jordan and the U-H tell Courtney that Pat is dead and want to team up with her to get justice, but she doesn't believe them (good judgment, honestly). Fortunately Pat soon shows up in S.T.R.I.P.E., which causes the U-H to flip out with rage and attack, very much blowing his cover. There's soon a knock-down brawl between the Mahkents and the JSA, and between Pat and the U-H. Sofus and Beth square off again, but both quickly admit they don't want to fight, and Lily is furious that her husband doesn't want to kill the kids. She threatens to kill him herself if he doesn't join the battle, but she ends up crushed to death by a fallen car.

Jakeem channels the power of the Thunderbolt and saves Cindy from near death by transforming the Dragon King into a stuffed toy, proving that he's the rightful owner of the pen by being able to wish effectively despite his recent wishes being vague.

Jordan threatens to kill Courtney if she won't join him, but Barbara intervenes by shooting him with the crossbow Paula Crock had been teaching her to use. It doesn't kill him, but Courtney takes the Staff back due to Barbara's urging; it seems that the U-H was able to use it due to Courtney's belief that it belonged to him. Once she accepts that he isn't Sylvester and that it's hers, she's able to retake it from him. She uses the Staff to burn Jordan's face.

Pat and the U-H nearly kill each other in their brawling, but finally Pat brains his enemy with a rock and knocks him unconscious. It's extremely upsetting to him to see his friend's body being used for evil by a monster…I don't know if it's for the better or the worse that he doesn't know Sylvester's last (and continued) thoughts are for his well-being.

Cameron's clearly terrified about what his father will do and tries to stop him from hurting Courtney, but Jordan tells him not to force him to do what Brainwave did: kill his own son. Courtney tells him what a piece of shit he is for saying that, so Jordan says that either Cameron does what he has to, or Jordan will. Cameron attacks him with a blast of power and we see Jordan enveloped in a ton of ice/snow before some kind of icy version of him seems to rise out of it, screaming.

Sofus isn't looking too good, so Cameron tells the JSA that he's taking his grandfather to safety and he's leaving forever. He acknowledges that he betrayed Courtney and his own family, which is obviously very hard on him, but Courtney says she can help. Regardless, he and Sofus disappear in some kind of explosion of ice/snow.

And the rest of the episode is about wrapping up most of the loose ends. Rick apologizes to Beth's parents for acting like a jerk, and Beth officially asks them to help her and be her sidekicks. They're very enthusiastic about it, and end up giving themselves codenames.

Sylvester's body is still alive in hospital, but had a serious brain bleed and the Ultra-Humanite's brain is basically dead. Pat decides to keep him on life support in the hopes that the real Sylvester can be recovered somehow, and as we see, his brain is still alive elsewhere in shocking condition.

Rick goes to Grundy's grave in the woods, saddened that the big guy hasn't come back despite all the others returning from the dead. However, Grundy's arm suddenly digs its way out of the grave, possibly due to his friend saying he misses him.

Courtney gives the Gambler's daughter the letter written for her, which is clearly an emotional experience for her and she thanks Courtney. Yolanda sees everyone happy and calls her mother to admit she'd been lying to her, and hopefully explains why she did it so her mother will ideally chill out…we don't see her do that, though she seems tearfully happy afterward so it appears to have gone well.

And Courtney stands outside the Mahkent home, looking on while it begins to snow. Cameron is there and asks if she really can help him, and they hug. Mike meets up with his biological mother for the first time in years and has an enjoyable chat with her, but he still calls Barbara "Mom" when he returns.

Then there's a flash-forward to three months later, in Copenhagen. Jordan's out alone when he hears someone whisper his name, and then steps in some weird sticky goop. Artemis is there, and tells him it's a flammable substance her father used to put it in his explosive hockey pucks, and then she lights it. Jordan is burned alive, and as she says, he shouldn't be able to come back from this. She's almost certainly correct, as we saw that some of his ancestors were burned in Europe, and it probably doesn't allow them to turn into water or escape as some kind of cold/ice vapour like he'd clearly done in the junkyard. Jordan is probably dead.

And then there's another flash-forward to ten years later, at the JSA museum. The Shade is cheerfully giving a tour and telling the visitors about the history of the modern JSA. Courtney is now Starwoman, Cindy is now Dragon Queen, Todd and Jennie and Sand are part of the team, as are Icicle and Artemis (presumably Cameron and Artemis Crock). As are Jakeem, the Shade, Damage, and an unknown Stripe 2.0 (Mike?). Rick and Beth are soon to be married by the Shade himself, and Solomon Grundy tags along with them. The JSA have rescued the Seven Soldiers of Victory from the Nebula Man in an adventure which will presumably go unseen, and it's a nice nod because we never did see the Shining Knight after he went off to find his old teammates at the end of first season. And, the JSA has somehow brought the real Sylvester Pemberton back to life.

Then a rift opens, and Jay Garrick (John Wesley Shipp) runs right through the big JSA table. You may recall that Jay's helmet was seen during the fatal ISA attack in the premiere episode and he was presumed dead, but clearly he wasn't! Shade is surprised to see him, but Jay says that he and the JSA are needed, at which the Shade grumbles that their adventures are never over. The series finishes with "Never the end", so maaaaaaybe I'll get my wish that there'll be a special later on, or perhaps a comic which tells more stories in this `verse. We can hope.

A pretty satisfying finish, in my opinion. One wonders how they rescued Sylvester's brain and how he's doing now after that awful experience, which would be traumatic for anyone. It's good to know that Artemis and Cameron will become heroes (Cindy and the Shade too), but I wouldn't want to be around if/when Artemis ever told the others about what happened to Jordan. Artemis and Cameron are a couple in the comics, but there'd be a lot of uncomfortable family baggage if they ever got together in the show. I still want to know if the Mahkents are Frost Giants :] And while we don't get to see the adventures of Jennie, Todd, the Shade, and Sand working and learning together, they obviously do meet up and form bonds and become JSA members in their own right, which is a good feeling.

I'll really miss this series, as it's the show I've enjoyed the most over the past few years. I'd love it if DC made a standalone episode or movie to give us some more adventures, but maybe that's what fic is for. It is nice to know there are relatively happy endings for most of the crew, at least as of ten years from now; one never knows what fifteen or twenty years later have in store for superheroes. But I'm glad they were able to rescue Sylvester after all the terrible things which happened to him, and hopefully he and Pat made peace as friends. He was a jerk sometimes in life, but didn't deserve any of the torture Icicle and co dealt to him.

Also: while I'm sorry we didn't get more Jay in the show, it's great to have him return at the end! That was a hell of an entrance.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 22 - Crimson Spider Lily

"RAIAN, WAIT!" Kisara yelled after him, but it was to no avail. "That idiot's going to get himself killed!" the auditorium was filled with cries of disdain at seeing yet another murder before their very eyes, while others were wondering whether this blatant murder was going to end up with a Kengan Penalty. Kisara was happy she was smart enough to kill the Ogre after being declared the winner, thus, it was an altercation outside of the match. Still, whatever, or... Better said, WHOever Raian noticed, was bad news.

Back in Katahara's room, the Patriarch declared the Kure Clan was pulling out of the competition, and they will be refunding the money for the contract. Nogi was angry, but there was nothing that he said out of anger that could shake the old Kure leader - After all, no contract is above family. Edward Wu, despite being Toyoda Idemitsu's guest, had to be killed - It didn't matter that they were going to be direct enemies of the Worm or Purgatory - Nothing mattered, except revenge. The leader of the Wu main clan urged Erioh to hurry already - Though neither of the old men had any idea it would be the last time they ever see each other - A friendship stronger than anything earthly, yet death takes us all, and life was truly a harsh, cruel maiden.

"Ohma." Kisara called out to her lover. "I'm going after Raian. I'm worried about him." "You know well enough wherever that brat is, there is also danger, don't you?" the girl nodded, making her husband sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. "I suppose I know his strength better than anyone. Fine, go ahead, if anything happens I'm sure he's well capable of protecting you. Still, I want you to run away and come get me if you get overwhelmed, alright?" "Knock on wood!" Kisara gulped with unease. "Still, I have my katana at me. Might as well use it if needed. Hopefully not though." she spoke, looking absent-minded towards the hall that might still be leading towards Raian's secret destination. "You know... For a little Psycho Brat like him, Raian has been a very important person in my life while you were, well... Dead. I owe him more than I'd like to admit. The least I can do is check on him. He may be physically stronger than most, but his emotional outbursts are going to lead to his downfall if he forgets to use that dumb brain of his." Ohma recalled the frequent voice and video calls that the two had during his stay at the village, and he almost felt himself cringing. The times Kisara would shriek her desperation into the sky, urged by the Kure brat, or when he'd encourage her to cry her whole weight in tears and irrigate a whole flower garden were the times when his resolve felt the weakest, and he wanted to run to her and reassure her he was still alive and very well.

He had been shocked to see how well a snotty brat like Raian could cope with Kisara's supposed loss of her fiance, and how self-destructive she got; Frankly, Ohma never imagined his death could impact her to such a degree, but to have the ultimate confession coming from her on a late night ( As the timezones were so damn screwed between Japan and whatever country she was in at that time ) that were it not for Raian, she would not have been able to smile again, let alone muster the strength to laugh; Get the strength to get out of the bed every day, no matter how hard it was to cope with the awful reality of the excruciating loneliness she had been feeling until not too long ago, and realise that perhaps there is still a reason to keep on going, to see the Sun rise just one more time, to see the starry night at least once more, or to take in the smell of the flora, or delight yourself with the thrill of the birds... It wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible either. Not anymore.

In theory, the man had a lot to thank Raian for - Not only for being taken care of for so long, but being helped to train so thoroughly, and even for the tremendous emotional and moral support that he offered his most beloved person alive - But like hell was he going to thank that snotty brat. It would only get to his head. Perhaps one day, though, when he gets knocked off his high horse, and Ohma wins in terms of numbers at least, during their sparring matches.

Kisara noticed that Akoya went on for his fight, and considering she couldn't care less about his fight, nor of that flamboyant blond guy's, she abruptly turned to the rest of the Kengan fighters still remaining standing in their assigned chamber, and she threw them a leisure peace sign and a grin. "As the designated emotional support of the group, and also, the coolest fighter that Kengan has - It is my duty to wish you all fantastic matches, and tell you that I'm proud of you, no matter the outcome of your matches!" she spoke cheerfully, before sending herself off with a lazy military salute, imitating her Senpai. "I'm going to look after Raian. In theory, I should be back by the time Psy-Cop is done with his match. In practice, well... That honestly depends on what he's up to." "Hey, hold up--" Takeshi was the first to voice his concerns, as well as everyone else's. "You've already been attacked once, and you're a prime target for the Worms. I'm not sure you should go out there, all alone, even if it is Raian you're searching for." Kisara, however, winked at him dismissively. "Let me worry about that, okay, Best Friend~?" she blew him a kiss, before skipping outside, towards the hall. "You sure she's going to be fine, Tokita?" Ohma looked at the Kengan fighters, all of them present ( with the exception of the odd Masaki ) having become such indispensable parts of his wife's life, without whom she couldn't imagine her life; He, of all people, knew how much she would gush over all of them, in their own way, and how much she appreciates and treasures them, equally, for everything they did for her. Ohma shook his head at them, showing his uncertainty - But has danger ever stopped Kisara from going above and beyond when she had her mind set on something in particular? "I'll just hope Raian finds her before anyone else."

That wasn't the case though, for it wasn't Raian who found Kisara first, but the other way around - Not the way she expected to ever see him though. Raian was on the ground, beaten up to a pulp, and in a pool of his own blood, laying with his face down, like a pitiful, overused ragdoll. "R-Raian...?!" the girl gasped, falling on her knees besides him. "Raian, what the hell, get up!" who could have done this, she kept asking herself - Raian was one of the strongest men she's ever known; If even HE could get beaten up to such a degree, there is no way she would ever, in a million years, stand a chance against the assailants who could get him in such a state. How could she protect him, when he has always been her protector? It was Raian who protected her against Tanji three times, he who protected her during the coup, and he who was eager to help her instill her revenge against her parents, who betrayed her - And most of all, it was he who went out of his way to text her all the stupidest things that he heard, all to make her smile, as he knew very well the struggles she was going through. She could never repay this emotional debt she feels towards him, and especially, she could never reciprocate the way he did for her. "Raian, please, get up! Don't scare me like this!" she kept trying to shake his shoulders, but he wouldn't budge.

Suddenly, a few footsteps echoed casually towards her; Based on the look of the three men towering over them, they must be members of the Westward Faction - They were really scary, and their powerful pressure sent a chill down her spine. She almost felt death knocking on her door, just by the way they were looking at her. "To think Alan tripped over a pitiful pebble like this." the one dressed more casually was the first to speak. "I guess we expected too much of the kid. What do they say in manga at times like this?" the one dressed in a suit smirked at the other. "Hey, missy." the one wearing an animal print shirt lit up a cigar. He must be the leader, Kisara realised, based on how buff he was, and how overly confident he acted towards her. "Tuck your baby boy to sleep and tell him a nice story so he won't cry from getting a boo-boo playing with the big boys in the playground. By the time he wakes up, the world will have already changed." the woman dared say no word, simply settling for tightening her grip on the Kure and nodding almost meekly. Not only was she in a clear numeric deficit, but the power imbalance tipped the scales... From Heaven to Hell, an infinite distance.

As the trio turned around on their heels and began to walk away, the warm body that Kisara was touching disappeared, and Raian had rushed forward at unimaginable speed; And though one of those three kicked his foot backwards to slam the Devil in the face, the brat was grinning, having used his forearm as a shield. That was the only successful maneuver that Raian succeeded, however, as Solomon Wu slammed his body like a golem into his own, smashing him against the wall and easily avoiding the cutting palm that the brat attempted at his face, as Fabio grabbed him by the underarms, turning him into a punching bag for the former. "Those guys are my spares. I possess the ego of Wu Hei, thanks to Huisheng. Huisheng's a little tricky, you see - You could theoretically use Huisheng on the entire clan to mass-produce Wu Heis, but that'd just lead to anarchy, cause Wu Hei's personality doesn't like serving anyone else... Then again, if the successor dies, Huisheng stops there - So I need spares, like them." Kisara cringed painfully as she watched her friend get nasty punch in his pretty face, over and over, and the knuckles of Solomon Wu breaking his skin, splattering blood everywhere. "There's also Alan, who you killed, and one other, meaning there are five of me in the Westward faction; Though we call each other by names out of convenience. Oh, wait - Guess we're down to four." "PLEASE STOP IT!" Kisara yelled, throwing herself over Solomon's arm, and keeping her whole weight to block his elbow joint, and keeping one foot straight over Fabio knee, while the other was firmly planted on the ground, she was somehow capable of keeping the fist from connecting with his face. "LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU FUCKING PSYCHOS!" The trio laughed in unison at the girl, only for Solomon to overpower her with such ease, and elbow her in the diaphragm, slamming her to the ground, far away from them. "Silly girl, you think you're a real fighter, just because you fooled around a little and beat up some guy from the very bottom of the barrel? How cute, ain't it?" Edward Wu taunted her, watching as she was coughing and wheezing on the ground to regain her proper breathing.

Raian took advantage of the moment everyone's eyes were away from him, and he broke free with the activation of Removal - With one swift move, he was able to launch a punch to one, and a kick to another; Yet not only were both parried, but with Edward joining, he got kicked down from three spots, at the same time. What a disgrace. "Now that's what I like to call Perfect Sync. We're all ME after all." Edward laughed, cigar still between his teeth. "You're mad, aren't you? Is it because we hurt your mummy crush? Or maybe you think it's unfair, baby boy - And you'd be god-damn-right that it's unfair, and we're gonna be unfair, and fight you three-on-one! We can begin with that lovely lady over there too, just to get a rise out of you." that cruel chagrin of his was quickly wiped off by none other than the Kure Patriarch, who came out of nowhere like the true Master Assassin that he was, and impaled Fabio with his sword from behind. "Make that Two-On-Two." the Mighty Demon, Kure Erioh, had arrived. Fabio wailed as his torso was ruthlessly stabbed, yet despite such an injury, he hadn't died - Instead, he growled in anger at having had his brother killed. What a mess of a monster.

Kisara thought the Kure were strong as hell, but these guys too... They were complete maniacs, to say the least, and very, very scary. Despite his best effort at releasing his Guihun at 100%, the Patriarch cut him in half, vertically, with a simple, swift move. Kisara had formally trained in kendo herself, yet she couldn't even dream of matching the elder's assassination and sword skills overall. For once in so long, her interest had been piqued, and she found motivation to learn something more, to push herself further, just like she trained with Hatsumi and Agito previously, and master, as much as possible, another fighting style. "Edward Wu, your head is mine." the old one spared no time to waste, as he lunged forward to attack, only to have Master Wu Xing, the Head of the Chinese branch of the Wu Clan, the Master of Phantasms, engage in a surprise attack - He avenged his uncle, and now, it was time to avenge his beloved.

"Stay behind me." Raian growled, pushing the red head behind him as he started properly fighting Solomon Wu, who wanted to break free and aid his other Wu Hei sibling. "Raian, be careful! Don't let that sucker provoke you!" Kisara exclaimed, only to see that he wasn't taking any advantage over his opponent, but instead, he remained in a platitude of evenness that irked her. "Raian, you're wasting energy on unnecessary movement! Get a grip already!" the brat was glaring like a monster at the foe before him, and he was getting distracted by the main fight of the three clan leaders. "RAIAN ---" "GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK ALREADY!" Raian roared, his voice resounding harshly through the halls as he kicked Solomon so painfully strong that he sent his foe in the direction of Erioh and Wu Xing. "HEY, GRAMPS!!! MOVE YOUR ASS!!!" like a cat, Solomon ended up on his feet, very close to the main Wu Hei iteration. Raian roughly grabbed Kisara's wrist, dragging her to the other two. "YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY AND KEEP SAFE!" he was outright fuming. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU ALL!!! GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!!" as if to anger the brat even more, Wu Xing and Erioh shared a look, and with a simple nod, they activated their secret techniques - Evidently, both with 100% capacity. "HEY, FUCK OFF, GRAMPS!!! HE'S MINE!!!" "Can it, whipper-snapper!" the Patriarch snapped at the boy. "Miss Kisara, if you will, please keep this brat away from this fight, he'll only get in our way." "A-Alright...!" thought the woman couldn't help but look with confused bewilderment at the old man, it was her turn to grab the boy's whole arm and cling on it. "Time to become a parasite. Sorry, kid." "What do we do? It's two on three now." clearly, Solomon wasn't counting the woman as an opponent. Great mistake for later. "What do we do? Simple!" Edward smirked at his counterpart spare. "We just bring them down to zero." what a simple reply, yet the execution was going to be hellish.

But Kisara couldn't, with her 50-something kilograms of a body, to stop the powerhouse of an unstoppable force that Kure Raian was, and though he was careful to shrug her off without hurting her, he was able to easily evade Solomon's punch by diving underneath his arm, and springing towards the Westward Faction leader himself only to get punched away with ease - She looked at the gargantuan man before her; She had a lot of very tall and well-built friends that towered over her like the Empire States Building, but the way he was glaring down at her made her afraid as never before. Oh, how she hated these fucking Worms.

The only thing she was able to witness was Edward Wu throwing away all three of his opponents with such ease that it was almost painful to witness. As Solomon turned his head to look at the three fallen opponents, Kisara quickly dug her hand inside her large pants pockets and found the opioids pills that she gulped down, and an adrenaline shot that she quickly injected in her body, and a lidocaine shot for her stitched up wound. With all the doses being a little over the superior parameter limit, she was sure, soon, she would be able to fight properly; Or at least serve as some sort of decoy. "You troglodytes are nothing like me. You've just witnessed the power of the conquerors, who've spread all across the world." she could see the way Edward smirked like the evil mastermind that he was, but her vision was getting blurry, and her mind was getting a little foggy - To be expected when engaging in a slight overdose of so many substances - They weren't even supposed to get combined, it made so sense whatsoever, but it was all she had, the very single bet she had. "It's high time you accepted death, losers." the woman yelped as she felt a merciless grasp oh her beautiful, long hair, roughing her to the ground to kneel. "Taking hostages, huh? You're an embarrassment, Solomon. You're supposed to be Wu Hei. Act like it." "Sorry." Solomon grumbled, his grip on her hair tightening. "Here, use this, have fun, but take care of the clean-up. I'll get us some 'legs'. Meet me outside when you're done." Solomon easily caught the knife that he was handed. "OI, LET HER GO, YOU FUCKING COWARD! COME FUCKING FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!" but Raian's eyes widened as, with a move as fast as gramps', Kisara slashed away at her hair as if she was some kind of Mulan going to war, and with a twist and two slices. "FUCK YOU! OHMA LOVED MY LONG HAIR, YOU GODDAM FUCKASS! NOW IT'S ALL CHOPPY AND UNEVEN!" came her first concern as she cut Solomon's body in half, before decapitating him and kicking his head towards Edward, like a soccer ball. "I DIDN'T FUCKING TRAIN FOR SEVEN YEARS TO CONTINUE BEING ALL OF YOU, FUCKERS', FUCKING DOORMAT!" Raian's seen Kisara angry enough times - In fact, he was sure he's seen more different emotions on her face than even her husband - But now, she was livid like never before. "I DIDN'T CHANGE EVERYTHING ABOUT MY FUCKING PATHETIC SELF, TO CONTINUE BEING TOUCHED BY THE FILTHY HANDS OF DISGUSTING WEAKLINGS LIKE YOU, EDWARD WU, OR ANY OF YOUR FUCKING WORMS!" her raw yells seemed to stir some kind of inspiration in Raian's heart. "I'LL GET RID OF EVERY FUCKING SINGLE ONE OF YOU! YOU WILL PAY FOR EVERYTHING THAT YOU'VE DONE TO US!" "Gah, give me a break. You're angry at the wrong people, missy. If it weren't for Xia Jing sending the Tiger's Vessel that heart, he wouldn't have come back at all. Without us, he'd be as dead as years ago! The way I see it, you ought to sell your very life, body and soul to us, as gratefulness!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DIE!" though her whole body was feeling so out of it that she was close to transcending through some kind of parallel universe, and her emotions were scorching with wrath and hysteria, she was able to see a familiar member of the Kure familiar, having come out of nowhere, a knife in his hand, ready to assassinate Edward Wu. Feigning muddle-headedness, Kisara sprung forward, pretending to slash at the enemy to offer Reiichi the opening he needed. Unfortunately for the both of them, the foe had senses them and easily immobilised them both with an iron grip on their weapon wrist. Kure Hollis also appeared out of nowhere, threatening Edward Wu, who had activated his Guihun, and throwing the two away, started throwing a barrage of punches at Hollis, who was easily drawn backwards - He couldn't release an output above 80%, and Reiichi's was even worse, at around 50%. There was no way either of them could accomplish anything at this rate. Everything remained on the trio's shoulders.

Neither of them gave up though, as one by one, Kisara, Reiichi, Hollis, and even Erioh and Wu Xing went ahead to attack the enemy, only to get tossed around like they were nothing. Reiichi seemed to have lost consciousness, whilst Hollis was stumbling, barely able to get up in a sitting position. The Patriarch had used himself as a sacrificial pawn for the Wu Leader to stab a needle in the artery of the foe... But it had failed. Kisara was the only one still continuing to get up, ever time she'd get swatted away like a fly, and thrown away like a broken porcelain doll - She couldn't feel the pain any longer, or rather said, she couldn't feel anything at all. She hadn't known the plan of the four prior to all this mess, nor that they catalogued themselves as 'Assassins', and they bet on provoking and baiting Raian to bad that he, the strongest Combatant of the Kure clan, would go so crazy that his powers would go beyond anything imaginable, including Erioh's in his prime.

Still, she needn't know the plan - She knew very well how Raian was so emotionally problematic that you could play him like a fiddle. She knew just how to get him to react so bad, that not even his own clan could recognise him. She watched as Edward Wu, with a rageful aura, snatched the needle from his neck and threw it to the ground. "Now you've done it. You've pissed me off for the last time. Pathetic! You're all just PATHETIC!" Wu Xing watched with wide eyes as his most potent poison wasn't kicking in. Hollis, unable to keep his eyes open from pain, growled, realising the opponent used Removal on his artery, and Reiichi, unable to get up from the ground, was unable to comprehend how their very old fossil of a grandpa was able to stand toe to toe with such a monster. Raian was still on the ground, and Kisara and Erioh alike could feel the dark aura emanating through him. "A single Removal user was able to defeat four of the same kind. Clearly, you don't need either Removal or Guihun or whatever the hell you call it to defeat a monster. You know what Ohma said once? Humans aren't so weak as to  need saving from heroes, or be incapable of defeating monsters." "Oh, really? Is that so?" Edward's maniac laughter would have made her run for the hills, if she wasn't so doped up on a shit ton of substances. "You think just because you killed Solomon, you can kill me too? How fucking stupid!" Kisara took off her blouse, feeling feint from the heat the turtleneck was causing her. "Oh, yeah? Fucking watch me, you fuckass. Some weak shit like you can't defeat me!" of course, she was bluffing, but it was the only way to get Raian so thoroughly fucked in his overly-emotional brain that he would snap beyond comprehension.

Every time she's rush at him, she'd get so easily countered, that it would have made her feel pathetic, were it not for the whole damn Kure clan being just as easily slapped away without even as much as a bead of sweat on his forehead. He picked her up and threw her to the ground, he roughed her up, he swatted her and even kept such a tight grip on her neck that he threatened to snap it like a dove's, only to break the concrete ground with her. Each time, however, Kisara got up, albeit, wobbly. She feared all the effects would wear off soon at this rate. "You really want to die, don't you, you stupid bitch? You doped up on all sorts of shit just to get to the same level as the weakest of either clan, but you don't compare even to scum. You're not a fighter, and you'll never be. You're being ridiculous - What are you trying to accomplish? You're giving these guys a break? The fossil's spine is broken, and all the others are weaker than children. I'll squish all of you, like the cockroaches you are - Starting with you, then that fucking brat--" "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE INSULT RAIAN EVER AGAIN!" the boy's eyes widened with shock at the unexpected turn of events. "I'M THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO CALL RAIAN A FUCKING BRAT - BECAUSE HE'S MY FUCKING PSYCHO BRAT! MINE! HE'S MY BEST FRIEND! MY REASON FOR LIVING, MY PROTECTOR, MY FUCKING SAVIOUR -- A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT LIKE YOU DOESN'T GET TO SPEAK OF HIM!" what the hell had he done to garner such superlative compliments? He just made the girl laugh - And he hit on her all the time, while her husband was right next to him, and would hit him as soon as he hung up. He lied to her for almost three years about her husband being dead. "You call me weak and pathetic? Sure, go ahead, because that's what I am! Everyone knows I used to be a shut in who was afraid of people and lived on too much coffee and a meal per day. I used to never leave the house and only study all the time. I used to be the most pathetic thing, struggling to even open water bottles, damn it!" Kisara took a few deep breaths, her hands on her knees, unable to keep herself up straight. "But once I met Ohma, my whole life changed, you know? I found a reason to get out of bed and actually live. I have so many friends -- And they mean so much to me -- And my husband is back too -- I can't die here! Not you some fuckass like you! I can't die when Ohma's come from the dead!" "You're speaking as if you're some kind of irreplaceable beauty, how hilarious! EVERYONE is replaceable!" Edward laughed so loud that her ears were ringing from the echoing - But she yelled even louder. "I'M NOT FUCKING REPLACEABLE! I THOUGHT I WAS - I WAS SURE I WAS -- BUT I'M NOT!" she growled at him with such emotion that it made Raian tremble on the ground. "Who would call Hatsumi, Senpai? Who would be Tsuki-san's best friend? Who would play Mortal Kombat with lil bro Cos? Who would laugh at Akira for accidentally showing his nudes to his childhood best friends? Who would be Gaolang's personal cheerleader? Who would teach Agito about the real life? Who would Raian protect from all those fucking creeps - And of course - Who would be Ohma's little crybaby dumbass bookworm?!" though she tried to hide her face with her forearm, tears were streaming down her face, and the chopped up short hair was barely able to hide anything. "I DIDN'T SPEND DAYS IN A SHADY PUB FILLED WITH CREEPS JUST TO FIND A MAN I'VE NEVER MET IN MY LIFE AND HOPE HE CAN TURN MY LIFE AROUND! I DIDN'T SPEND YEARS OUT OF MY LIFE, COMPLETELY CHANGING EVERYTHING I STOOD FOR, JUST TO FIND MOTIVATION TO GET OUT OF BED EVERY MORNING BECAUSE I HATED MYSELF SO MUCH THAT I WANTED TO END MY EXISTENCE WITH EVERY SECOND PASSING!" "Ohoho, look at her, getting emotional! Let me help, then!" Edward grinned, lunging towards Raian, only for Kisara to defend him with her sword, slashing a small cut on his cheek, just under his eye, before forcing him to turn around so his back would be facing the Kure boy - Whenever he was ready, he'll have to hit - And HARD. "You don't get to touch him." Kisara sneered at him. "He's protected me all this time - And I'll never be able to repay him for everything that he's done for me - But though I've never told anyone - I admit, without him, I might have killed myself." Raian felt his breathing stop altogether, and the single attempt at getting up seemed to have ended in failure from shock. "I hadn't expected Ohma's death to strike me so hard - The suffering, the loneliness - I was so fucking alone, even more alone than before, that I had to ask Agito to force me out of the bed every day, because I wanted to do nothing but fucking weep every day and night." her raw, powerful voice turned into soft, desperate sobs. "Agito didn't understand why I was so upset, he just didn't get it  - And everyone else... Nothing worked... But it was Raian and his stupid ass texts and random video calls, and those fucking selfies, that put a smile on my face for the first time; Without him, I don't think I'd have gotten over the extreme self hatred that I had, all because of this -- And you think you have ANY right to shit on that boy? I'll fucking wring your neck if you dare even LOOK at him again!" "Fuck, you're really hilarious, aren't ya? If I knew I'd have so much fun, I'd have had the others over to have fun too! What a shame!" Edward bent down at the waist, closer to her height, but still towering over her? "You're wrong. The shame here is that, no matter what, I CANNOT get killed!" Kisara grinned widely, mimicking the Kure boy. "For one last time - I Want to play a game, y'know? Just one more time, I promise! So like --..." from the bottom of her lungs, and with all the screaming techniques Hatsumi taught her, Kisara shouted Raian's name so loud, that even the other Kure members thought their eardrums would rupture, only for the softest rumble of a chuckle to follow right after. "Will you teach me how to kill again?" inching her forearm further up, she lifted her uneven fringe to reveal her face, and the wicked expression from her face that seemed to piss the enemy off. "I'll teach you how to kill - By killing YOU!" before Edward could rush forward and destroy her, Kisara lunged forward to punch his liver, only for the enemy to get surprised with another powerful blow from behind; So powerful, in fact, that it even upped his own strength; And it worked in perfect sync with the girl's, as he hadn't been allowed any split second to react, before the two went in for another attack, from the opposite sides; This time, she threw a kick at his legs, whilst Raian punched at his face, and so on.

Reiichi and Hollis both could only stare, awestruck at the display before them - Yes, they knew Raian was a fucking monster of a man, but after they fought four on one and lost so pitifully, to be capable of completely fucking Edward Wu up, with the help of a simple, normal girl, who's dosed up on a shit ton of of different substances, just to keep herself up on her feet; A woman, incapable of using any secret technique, nor was she the creation of some ancient clan renowned for selective breeding of warriors, assassins and what not. She was just some girl who so randomly befriended the psycho brat of the Kure Clan, and somehow, got under his skin so much that she triggered his latent strength with her words and actions alone. "FUCK YOU -- BOTH OF YOU!" Raian roared through the place. "WHEN DID I ASK YOU TO PULL THAT SHIT?!" "You Goddamn cockroaches, why don't you stay down when you're beaten?!" but as Edward shrieked that, the two hit him with a punch in perfect sync, and with Kisara back in possession of her sword, she sliced at the enemy's torso, whilst Raian used his finger to assassinate and slash away at the artery, slicing half of his neck while at it, and to end the overkill, they both cut him clean from the other side also, watching as the pieced up remains of the once leader of the Westward Faction that was now on the ground, in a puddle of his own blood, like a chopped up fish.

Reiichi had been shocked out of his mind, still unable to get off the ground, seeing that Raian wasn't weeping on the ground anymore, beaten up to a pulp, whilst Wu Jing was shocked to see someone so strong, pounding at the enemy and not backing down at all. "You excessive strength breeds overconfidence, that's why you lost - And one more thing, remember when I said, if I were in my prime, you'd be Child's play to me, and this fledging you're fighting will one day surpass me in my prime... If he hadn't already." though exhausted and feeling his life slipping away from him, Erioh laughed from the ground he was laying on. "You never stood a chance."

Raian and Kisara both were panting with difficulty from the effort they put into this ultimate fight. "You took me out, I'll give you credit for that - But this is only the beginning of a massive party." Hollis was able to get up from the ground, and even support Reiichi up. "It's a shame, I wanted to join the party too." With a swift move, Raian punched his skull in, at the same time Kisara stomped the heel of her boot in his face. "Shut the fuck up and die already." though the boy had almost felt his legs give up from exhaustion, he had to catch her from falling. "You're a fucking dumbass." he growled lowly, helping her sit down and helping her rest on his side. "I just hope I won't be getting into hypovolemic shock, okay?" her chuckle was pained, though her mind was still fuzzy and muddled, getting off the medicine high. She hadn't realised she was drenched in blood as though it had rained crimson, or that the boy was holding pressure on her wound. All that over-exertion had taken a toll on her, but without the danger sensors of her body warning her that she was outright killing herself, she had no clue - And given the circumstances, she couldn't care less - Although, her body was getting weaker by the second, and it wasn't fun. "Give yourselves a rest, you idiots!" Hollis snapped, only to earn a curse from both of them, although he could barely hear the girl's voice. Her tired glare was enough of an answer. Wu Xing had taken off his darling locket and licked the picture of his beloved before holding it dearly to his chest, at peace now that he was able to instill his vengeance. Hollis and Reiichi looked at each other, saying they had to call the others so they could say their farewells to the Patriarch.

Karla was the quickest one to kneel besides her grandpa, holding his hand lovingly, whilst Ohma was frozen to the spot, his brain incapable of comprehending the sight before him. Why was Gramps dying? Why were all the Kure in such a horrific state, and why was Kisara looking more dead than alive, and painted scarlet with blood? The youngest Kure reassured the old man that all the Worms hiding in the arena were mostly captured, while the others were being hunted down by Uncle Horio at the moment. Hollis was the one entrusted to handle the rest. "Did you know about this, Fusui?! Why didn't you stop him?!" "OHMA!" Karla exclaimed his name, urging him to shut up already. "Grandfather's decisions are final." "Ohh, you're here, great grandson-in-law." the Patriarch chuckled, only to receive the same reply as before. "I told you I'm already married." Ohma sighed, his fists clenched, pained to be see the old man in such a  state. "Ever the jokester, aren't you?" Erioh chuckled tiredly. "Tread carefully - If my hunch in correct, you're contending with a foe that's far beyond you." he was met with a graveyard silence. "Raian, I suppose you wouldn't listen to me if I told you to stay out of this, but you couldn't have defeated Edward Wu on your own; You needed not only us, but your future wife also, poor darling; So improve yourselves together - Surpass yourselves, and be of help to Ohma." "Fuck you, Gramps. You just had to get one last lecture in, huh?" Raian scoffed, only to have his head pulled to rest on the girl's chest, his hair being patted and played with. "Don't worry, Grandpa. I'll be taking care of this little Psycho Brat." Kisara chuckled tiredly. "Katahara's going to be very upset with you." "I couldn't let him die before me, could I?" he chuckled. "I know you will, Miss Kisara. And you will be a great wife some day. I know I had the right hunch when I saw you that day, ready to take the whole world in your hands." the old man's praise made her smile with gratefulness. "You can't give up yet, Gramps! I'll go call Hanafusa - He can save you!" Ohma desperation was met with an exhausted smile from the Patriarch. "Ohma... It's too late for me." came his last words. "I wish you all the best."

The graveyard silence that took over them was disturbed only by the soft weeping of Karla, who was being embraced by Fusui, though even she could barely bite away her tears. The uncomfortable silence had urged Kisara to use Raian's shoulder as propping to get up to her feet and stumble to her husband and cling on his arm. He looked down at her and noticed her gesturing for him to leave with her, allowing the family to mourn the passing of their beloved Patriarch. He helped sustain her weight and hey went down the hall from where they came from, only to be surprisingly meeting with Rei and Hatsumi, who seemed to have finished a round of intense fighting themselves, and a tall and buff man with shades, wearing a white suit and a fedora, expensive and luxurious, and he was jovially grinning. Kisara shuddered lightly, seeing the similarity between him and Edward Wu, but there was none of the malice.

"Oh, dear. I suppose I won't be getting my bonus for combat, will I?" was he also some kind of combat assassin, she wondered. Ohma shook his head. "Hey now, forget fighting - Angel, what the hell happened?" Hatsumi rushed to her side with a handkerchief, wiping away the caked blood and sweat from her face. "Well... The Worms were tougher than we anticipated." she muttered, her eyes glazed over and a little unfocused. "How's Erioh?" Kisara and Ohma shared a look, before shifting their gaze down. "He sacrificed himself to help us kill the leader of the Westward Faction. There's only one left, and in hiding." Kisara was the one to speak what Ohma couldn't. "Hey, Senpai? Can you take me to Hanafusa? This time, I actually think I'm getting into decompensatory shock... And I don't want to get in the fourth and last stage." her broken smile made the man frown, though he spared no second to pick her up and do as instructed. "Why didn't you let Tokita take you? I thought you'd be glued to him." that ditzy smile of hers made him realise he was right. "Let him mourn. Erioh took care of him for years. He's upset and needs some time for himself." she spoke simply. "And I really think I'm dying." "What did you get yourself into?" Hatsumi sighed, placing her on the bed. "Well... I couldn't let Raian die, could I?"

As Hanafusa took intensive care of the girl, it was up to Ohma and Karla to go to the partying Kengan members and informed them of the World Changing blow that just happened, under their noses. Kisara, however, was content just being half-asleep and speaking all sorts of non-sense to her Senpai whom she missed so much - She even called him a jerk for leaving her so alone for three years, though he knew it was just the unconscious sadness and loneliness speaking, and she wasn't actually upset at him - Especially after following up with whatever stupid gossips that she found out from Raian some time ago. This time, at least, she very gladly accepted the fluidotherapy, but it wasn't enough, and the I.V. bag of isotone crystalloids helped little with her condition. She needed a blood transfusion - Time for all her friends to get a quick blood test, huh?

It was already evening when Ohma came over to her and slumped in the chair next to her bed, holding her hand, watching the blood getting in her bloodstream. "You could have died." "Nahhh, no way." she grinned, happy that her body wasn't bloody, sweaty and dirty anymore. "I just got you back - There's no way I could've let myself die, y'know?" "My feelings for you didn't save me back then." he grumbled grimly, making her sigh dramatically. "Hey now, what's with you? Enough of this." she grabbed him by the shirt, urging him to get in bed with her. "Let's change the subject. For example - Do you still think I'm pretty, even with short hair? I think our hair is about the same length now. I hope it grows fast." "You dumbass, of course I still think you're pretty." he shook his head at her childishness, though it was very appreciated. "Aww, you're such a sweetheart!" she snuggled into his side, though the arm receiving the blood was awkwardly extended to the side. After a few good minutes of silence, Ohma spoke again. "You never did tell me what you put in my bloodstream back then, when you found me." he said, making her raise her head slightly. "I remember having the inside of my elbow bandaged up, and some bag hanging from the ceiling." "Ah, well -- Basically, the same thing that I'm receiving right now, to aid the body after losing blood. I'm thinking that maybe you didn't really need anything I did to you, but I was panicked, okay?" she smiled tenderly at him. "Though, I don't really regret it. You got better really damn fast. I was happy - Whether it was from what I did, or your fantastic body, it didn't matter to me." "I did feel fine." he nodded his head in agreement. "It must be what you did. Or at least, I've convinced myself that's the truth, and I'm fine with that knowledge." "I gave you my blood too, you know." Ohma's eyes bulged from the shock. "I never did tell anyone... But I was afraid. You had lost a lot of blood... Though that might have been from the water on the ground too; And you were very pale and cold. Dad used to have some old emergency tools, for historical purposes, and I tested your blood, just to be sure - And I transferred my blood to you." "You're kidding." Kisara shook her head. "You're insane, woman. You're insane." "Yes, well... I guess that's why you love me, huh?" she chuckled lightly. "Soulbound and Bloodbound, huh?" "Why did you never tell me?" she simply shrugged. "You never asked, did you?" the look he gave her made her chuckle - He was adorable. "I don't deserve you. I never did." he sighed, his embrace tightening slightly. "I'm really sorry for leaving you in the dark. I regret letting you go after Raian, but I also owed him for supporting you while I couldn't. I was always there - I needed to hear your voice, to see you - But it hurt, seeing you so upset all the time. I wanted to go to you, but I was so afraid you'd get targeted by those fuckers" "Oh. Right." Kisara cleared her throat awkwardly. "I, uh... Hoped you wouldn't know. I'm ashamed." she smiled wryly. "But, uh... It's no big secret that I'm so in love with you, and without you I was so damn alone, that it hurt to breathe. It hurt so much that I got in an even worse depression than before you met me, and I wanted to die so bad - At least in the first year and a half or so.  I don't think I was able to thoroughly enjoy my travels. I forced myself to imagine getting in a relationship with any of my friends, especially Agito who was physically there daily -But I couldn't. Every time I tried, I would still see your face every time, so I gave up. Thank goodness you're alive though, I don't know how long I'd have been able to keep on going." "My God, you're pathetic, you little crybaby." he cradled her up in his arms, kissing her face all over. "It was hell without you. It's fine though. I'm back and ready to hold your hand and guide you through everything - Properly, this time. As your husband." "Whoaaa~! So romantic~!" she chuckled, nuzzling into his chest. "When's the wedding?" "You said you liked Spring, didn't you? When the Cherry trees blossom." she felt herself swooning. "Oh my God, I love you so much."

A few days after the Kengan vs Purgatory Tournament, the funeral for Kure Erioh took place in the Village. It was a beautiful funeral, and so many people came to pay their respects. Though Ohma hadn't a suit, he was able to borrow one from Hollis. It must have been really hard on him. Kisara let him and Karla mourn, while she tried to comfort Raian, somewhere far away, alone, in some corner where he was punching away trees and what not. He needed her emotional and moral support, almost just as much as she needed him, prior to all of this damn mess.

Three months passed since the funeral, and Ohma was called over by Koga to train and spar together - Of course, there was no one better to learn from but the ultimate Champion - And someone with a fighting style so similar to his best friend, Ryuki's - So he could understand him better. Ohma praised him for having started his fighting career properly - But Ohma couldn't outright go back to fighting yet - He promised Kisara he'd remain relatively unscathed for a whole two years, until their wedding - She wanted her long hair back after all, and in a little over a year, her long hair was going to shine as gorgeously as ever; His Majesty. Until then, however, he was dragged over to travel to whatever place she wanted to see - Well, he couldn't complain, it was actually fun; Though his favourite part of every trip was trying out the local cuisine. Dork.

Their wedding was everything that Kisara ever dreamt of, and she had the prettiest dress there was; With her hair so long and slightly wavy, and so many flowers put in it, she looked like such a Princess. She had Sayaka as her Maid of Honour, and Kaede, Rin, Elena, Rino, Fusui and Karla were her bridesmaids. There were many options for the Best Man, but they both agreed to have Raian the Psycho Brat as the ultimate man, though of course, all of her other friends were the grooms' men - And Inaba Ryo was the ring bearer, and he was so cute! Hatsumi was the most drunk of them all, and was clinging and laughing at a tipsy Wakatsuki and Rei, though everyone was having fun and drinking, even Cos, who was being urged to drink by Kureishi, his master. Retsudo wanted to help with the photoshoot, but Katahara was the life of the party, and even photo-bomb most of the pictures, much to everyone's amusement. Koga had fun playing the DJ, and had some help from Ryuki, as they were the youngest attendees, but Saw Paing was the loudest and most cheerful supporter of everyone there. Agito was, by far, the most out of place, but he had Misasa and Rolon by his side to ease him up - A drunk Agito was hilariously adorable even! And Kisara was happy that it was thanks to Agito that they could create a sort of bridge between Kengan and the sane Purgatory fighters they once fought. Medel was chatting up wth Gaolang, Kaneda and Himuro, while Seki was having a drinking contest with Jurota, Nitoku and Adam. All of Katahara's bodyguards, including the Heavenly Wolves also, and the Kure clan was invited over to have fun, but, without a doubt, the happiest for the wife and groom was Yamashita Kazuo, followed by his two sons. The old darling was crying and snotty, saying all of his best wishes... But as soon as Mokichi announced the moment everyone was waiting for, Kisara threw her arms around Ohma's neck with a small squeal and pulled him in the most passionate and loving kiss they've ever shared - He hummed in amusement, his arms holding her tightly in a tender embrace, and everyone whistled and cheered for them, throwing flowers and what not.

If only things could remain so beautiful and jovial as the day of her Wedding, for just about each and every one of her friends, but unfortunately, there was only so long she could allow herself to keep ignorant of the Worms still lingering like a plague around Japan, and even the whole world, when they keep pulling terrorist attacks around Rome, or try to infiltrate the underground - But it was time for a well deserved punishment. Xia Ji, especially, was going to feel that on his own skin...

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[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

I don't see Snape knowing Fiore is his. First because there is a possibility that Dumbledore knows and since he needs him too much he would not take the risk to loose an useful spy so Rakepick can get back her daughter... (If she's "that" bad.) Another option is that Rakepick is such an independant and proud woman that she doesn't think she needs help to save Fiore let alone a man she now deeply despises... Anyway it would complicate many things in the story if he knew and besides it adds even more misery to his life. Dying without knowing he had a daughter LMFAO what a miserable life... I also love the idea that no one in the wizarding world besides Dumbledore knew the reasons behind Rakepick's actions.

Snape could know but with Harry, the second war and the canon events it doesn't really add up...

Anyway, with the events at the end of the third fantastic beasts movies we now know that a character having a secret child is definitely something that could happen in canon... So yeah your theory is kinda cool :)

Snape knowing is actually a very significant question, especially since Fiore is likely to be in the same year as Harry, or if nothing else, their time at Hogwarts will overlap.

Because you're right. Whatever else he may be, I believe it would affect his decisions and he would likely want to protect her. Of course, the fact that he has a child with Rakepick at all raises questions of how that happened, how the two of them could have ever...coupled. I still don't know how it would have gone down, but I can see Rakepick being the kind of on-and-off ex that Snape despises yet still finds himself spending nights with when she visits, if that makes any sense? Or even if it was only just the one time.

Fiore would show up to Hogwarts, and, no way around it, Snape would have a strong opinion about her. Because we all know he's not able to mentally separate his enemies from the members of their families that he meets. He could never treat Harry as his own person because he was the spitting image of James. And guess what, Fiore looks exactly like her mom. (Not sure why this is such a narrative motif in the Potterverse, but hey, when in Rome...) So Snape isn't going to just ignore her like he would any other student. Her name is Rakepick, and she's a mini-me of his long-time enemy turned occasional lover. Oh, this is going to get so messy. I don't even want to think of how badly he'd treat Fiore, all the while not knowing.

But if he did know...would he treat her any better? I'm inclined to think that yes, he would, but he also wouldn't become father of the year. That's just not who he is, he doesn't have that in him. It takes empathy, it takes a certain talent to know how to talk to children, and we all know Snape doesn't have that. But just imagine how conflicted he would be, knowing that Rakepick's daughter was his. Especially if we go with my head-canon/fanfic idea from ages ago that Snape hates Rakepick for betraying him to R and nearly getting Lily killed in the process. Dude, imagine how much Snape would hate Fiore, and Rakepick, and himself, for his having had a daughter with someone other than Lily.

It creates such an intriguing parallel between Fiore and Harry. Because Snape looks at Harry and hates him because "you should have been mine." He looks at Fiore and hates her because "You shouldn't have been mine." Or even worse, "I should have never had you, you shouldn't exist." Would he be that cruel? I honestly don't know. I doubt he would say such things to her because to be frank, he would sooner die than admit his identity to Fiore, but still, he might think such things and those kinds of thoughts could affect his actions.

Ultimately, what you said about Dumbledore is very likely correct. He'd know. I don't know how he would know, but he would. He always knew. Usually because he'd use passive legilimency on people, but in this case, if Snape didn't know (and Fiore likely wouldn't) then I'm not sure how he would find out unless Rakepick told him. He could screen her too, but she's an Occlumens. Either way, it is so like Dumbledore for him to know that Fiore is Snape's daughter and not tell him in order to prevent him from being distracted, to keep him zero'd in on Operation: Harry. It's a hypothetical idea about head-canons surrounding a fanfic character and yet, it fits him to a T and I'm already mad. Fuck you, Dumbledore.

[xthexkillingxgroundsx]

blccdiedhands asked:"As angry as you are right now, I think you'd regret adding another death to your tally today." (helena)

TREMBLING. JEANNE WAS TREMBLING. Sword in hand, towering over the WHIMPERING FOOL. Gilles de Rais was not, somehow, Jeanne Alter’s worst enemy or nightmare. No. He was just a fucking psycho that had brought her into existence. But that didn’t mean she was going to just sit IDLY BY while he tried to parade around her life like he still MATTERED AT ALL. And she damn sure wasn’t going to sit by while this SICK. FUCK. Commented on the puerile innocence of her SANTA LILY COUNTERPART. Soon as the words left his mouth, and that perverted gaze shifted across to the one good thing about Jeanne Alter’s putrid existence, the elder version of herself snapped. Was damn LUCKY she hadn’t burned the entirety of Chaldea to the ground. Helena’s words echoed in her head. Reminding her that there still remained OTHER good things, too. Not about Jeanne herself, but AROUND Jeanne. Good people. BETTER people. “Bastard deserves it.” Still, there was a slight hesitation in her voice. “You know who he is. You know what he’s like.” But did that have ANYTHING to do with it? Helena’s words had nothing to do with whether Gilles deserved to die. But whether Jeanne Alter TRULY wanted to kill. Besides, they had no choice. The Master AND the Throne of Heroes had seemingly decided. For better or worse. Gilles de Rais was part of their twisted, fucked up family. Though what good purpose he could serve was BEYOND Jeanne. But then again… What good purpose did JEANNE HERSELF serve? Another tremble. “The bastard lives. But let me get three things straight. One. If he EVER looks at Jeanne Lily like that again, I WILL gut him. Two. YOU are my new distraction, Hel. And three. You owe me a fucking drink.” Sword clattered to the floor. No, it hadn’t actually been hers. Uhh… WHOSE was it again? She was sure someone would figure it out.

[raeraerosenfeld]

I'M PROBABLY GONNA MAKE THIS BLOG A CENTER FOR ALL MY OCS SOON, JUST FYI. They're not fandom OCs, they're blorbos from my brain

Rae Rosenfeld: 30... something. A mother of 2. "I'll take in any stray!" is her motto, be it animal or child. She's a weeb, a gamer, and her day job is a sys admin or something, idk, she's a computer sciencer. She's in an open relationship with her husband, Sascha. Sascha's a fuckin cuck, so sometimes he's just there. Watching. She loves helping her friends, to the point of being Leslie Knope levels of absolutely steamrolling her friends trying to solve their problems for them. She's hella maternal, and if you hurt her kids, you'll pay. She had severe anxiety and mental health issues when she was younger, and is estranged from her parents. She's going to be talking to you like a regular ass tumblr/tiktok user, because she's a nerd that way.

Zxy Tepechkie: Don't tell the others, but he's my favorite. He's vegan, magic, and brilliant. Hailed as a prodigy as a child, he was expected to become king to make his family even more prestigious than they already are. He hates politics, so he refused. When his parents didn't want to let him refuse, he said, "ok, watch this," and jumped headfirst into hardcore drugs and partying and doing things that would make nobody in their right mind want him as king. Unfortunately, his 13-14 year old ideas of "I'm too smart to get addicted" didn't work. He's clean now, but that time of his life contains secrets, trauma, and angst. And tooooons of guilt for the things he did. Also, magic folks age 1 year for every 10 regular, nonmagic years. So he's physically 19, but actually like 192.

Bane [last name redacted]: Idk his last name. He's the current king, at 18 physically, but 180+. His parents died when he was very young, so he was raised being groomed into the role of king, since the former king (dude had no kids and had to pick an heir haha) realized Zxy was PROBABLY not gonna cut it. Being raised to treat his work as his sole raison d'etre, but with a bunch of servants that would just say yes to anything, he became kinda spoiled. That spoiled became twisted when several assassination attempts when he was like 10 traumatized him enough to make him lose it. He got better, but not before torturing Zxy for months. They're on good terms now. This boy will prooooobably be speaking in a haughty, formal manner (if he's not being a huge slut and talking like he's horny on main) because he puts on a little front all the time, being a king and all.

Aubrey Rosenfeld: Rae and Sascha's son. He's 17, but real 17, despite being magic. Something funky happened to make him magic, despite his parents not being. That said, he's into being an almost cheesy level of rebellious. He'll graffiti a dick onto a cop car and then parkour away so he doesn't get caught. This boy fucking LOVES parkour and freerunning. He also loves chaos in general. Hates authority, loves being a menace to society. He's an absolute little shit gremlin boy, but a good kid. Everyone thinks he takes after Rae, but he actually takes more after his father. Was experimented on for a time for his magic when the government went apeshit bonkers and wanted to eradicate magic folks.

Willow: Fuck if I know what her last name is. She's a mercenary hired to kill Bane and Zxy but didn't, because she's not stupid. She did get to know them, however, so now she's around a lot, and good friends with Rae. She tries hard to act tough and push down any emotion, and she has severe attachment issues due to her upbringing and a past abusive relationship, but at her core, she's mischievous and loves pranks and joking around. She also looooooooooves animals. Take this girl to the damn ZOO. She's awful at cooking. Do not let her in a kitchen, unless that kitchen belongs to your enemy and you want their house burnt down.

Lili Rosenfeld: Rae and Sascha's daughter. 15, and also normal 15. She's shy, but not as severely as her mother was. She dreams of becoming a marine biologist, and loves all the little sea critters. Her favorite color is yellow. She has healing abilities, which is a big deal in my canon because literally no other magic person can do that. They're kind of wonky and hard for her to control, however. If you manage to make her upset enough, she'll wind up cussing you out like some seasoned biker gang member, which can be kinda... jarring. Tbch? I need to work on her, right now she's "boring little girl character #1." I'm nothing if not honest.

Sascha Rosenfeld: Oh ho hoooo, this guy. This guy right here. Love him, but he's a tool. Or, used to be. He'd sleep with any girl who would have him in college, and when he met Rae, he kind of fell in love without realizing. He wouldn't stop pestering her and flirting with her, which wasn't taken very well by her back then. He did have a dependable side, which is what attracted her to him at all in the first place. They got together, broke up because he's a jerk and cheated on her out of fear of commitment, then got back together after he groveled enough to satisfy her. They got married, and now he's a doting husband and, surprisingly, a good father. He was a detective, but ACAB, and since the government was actively trying to kill his kids and people like them, he stopped with all that. This man is a cuck. He's so into his wife, it's embarrassing.

RULES:

-The first rule of fight club is have fun and be yourself

-Don't godmod unless you ask, I will probably let you do it for the bit, if it's funny

-I don't really... do smut. I'm just not comfy with it. Go nuts if you do, though, I don't block or unfollow for it being on my dash

-Feel free to reply to anything I post, send asks, tag me and specify a character... whatever

-idk, more to come, it's kinda basic RP rules ig

MORE IN DEPTH INFO:

For reference, my little "world" takes place in just... the regular world? Earth? Idk, my characters are American, I'm so sorry lmao. I just always imagine them hanging out in specific parts of the States bc I'm there, but travel is easy because these magic fuckers can TELEPORT.

Magic folks are highly secretive and don't just let humans know that magic is real all willy-nilly. They're actually not supposed to at all, but, well, you form a close enough bond and you're going to find out. Accidentally or otherwise.

The main timeline story, in a nutshell, is that the former king (his name was Isaiah. Not important, it literally never comes up) had no wife or heirs of his own, so he chose between two kids he thought had potential and had ties to royalty, even if it was distant. Zxy was the brilliant shoe-in, the one whose family was focused on their position and how to advance it. Zxy's parents, Amy and Gregory, serve as envoys to the king, so when their younger son had the chance to snag that crown, they wanted it. BAD. They didn't care about their elementary school-aged son's protests that he hated politics and didn't want he job. Some things happened that took Zxy down a very dark path, which I don't wanna go too far into here because I'd rather it come up organically, but it took him out of the running.

So then child #2, Bane, gets the crown. Bane, whose parents died when he was 6 (60+, since magic people age 1 year for every 10. Physically, anyway. Mentally is kind of a mixed bag. They're definitely more mature than their human counterparts, but a teenage magic person is still going to act like a teenager.) was taken in by Isaiah immediately and groomed for the role. Normal schooling was out, this orphan child was raised learning etiquette, diplomatic skills, languages, budgeting, everything a good king would need. The servants treated him like they would a prince and basically let him get away with quite a bit. He was a precocious kid, but he grew spoiled. Repeated assassination attempts at a young age took their toll on him, mentally, until he kind of wound up paranoid and having a mental breakdown, which led to suspicion of Zxy, which led to torturing Zxy for over 3 straight months. He got better. The two are on decent terms now.

I still don't have the best handle on my magic system. It's kinda like Dragonball Z energy, but also kinda you have to have the ability and creativity to give it form, and... yeah. It's wonky. Sometimes I make my characters hold the idiot ball to avoid godmodding. It's worked well with the bestie so that sometimes nonmagic people can cause shenanigans. I take turns deciding which character I want to absolutely break and drive to desperate tears as they get the tar kicked out of them, so sometimes it's just easier to go, "Oops, someone sealed their magic." And then sometimes the would-be attacker doesn't seal them and gets murked. It's whatever works best for the plot at the time, if I'm honest.

Sometimes I reference an AU timeline, which is where pretty much all of Aubrey's characterization comes in. Rae and Sascha died (Rae was a total hellion trying to revolt against the government for being anti-magic, and it got her shot repeatedly in her kitchen for it) and then Aubrey was left at 15 to take care of his 13 year old little sister. Lili also died, and Aubrey was left all alone, avoiding authorities... when he wasn't provoking them. Two years pass from his sister's death, putting him at 17.

In the AU world, climate change has totally wrecked the world, leaving it barren and uninhabitable outside of terraformed domes for any extended period of time. It takes awhile for him to meet back up with Zxy, who, at that point, is also working to take down the anti-magic government to save everyone from extermination. The Zxy I use isn't AU Zxy, it's just plain flavored, no added spice.

Obviously, this means Rae and the rest of the family came back to life. I don't really have an explanation for that, because it was something that happened in RP with the bestie, so I've just rolled with it, because Rae is fun to write, and Sascha and Lili could stand to be fleshed out more.

The AU thing doesn't come up a lot, unless I'm feeling like being mean to Aubrey and making him sad about things that happened to him in his past.

[relmi]

Ⅲ. FREE

When I returned to my room, I felt all my strength had been drained. Staying in this house only made me feel deeply scared. This strange couple came to the door of my room and kept asking me to go out for different reasons. Seeing that I didn't open the door, the strange woman brought a spare key, and just a moment after the door opened, I suddenly got up the courage, crashed through them with all my strength, and rushed to the kitchen to grab a sharp knife. People tend to explode with great strength in extremely dangerous situations. I decided not to pretend anymore.

However, the woman showed a surprised look, "Great, you finally recovered, mom is really happy!"

"Stop pretending! You're not my mother at all!" I shouted.

The woman pointed to the family photo hanging on the living room wall and cried, "What's wrong with you? Mom and Dad are right here!"

I stared at the two unfamiliar faces in front of me, opened the kitchen cupboard, and took out a bucket of nuts.

"Did you know? I've always been allergic to nuts. When I was a child, I accidentally ate nuts which caused me to have a severe allergy, and since then there have been no more nuts in the house. You are my parents, how could you not know?"

(image credit to http://www.repinku.com)

My parents would never make me feel creepy or scared no matter what they turned out to be. My father is honest, my mother is kind, and we are the people who love each other the most in the world.

I made up my mind and stabbed the strange couple in front of me with my knife. And in that instant, instead of the imaginary spurt of blood, it was as if it had been formatted, and everything in front of me was covered with a blinding white.

I saw Thomas smiling at me and saying, "You did it, Lily," followed by the appearance of my real parents, holding hands and looking at me with a smile, "Sweetheart, you did it." Then they gradually faded away.

......

......

(image credit to https://www.163.com/)

"You're awake, how do you feel?" Thomas asked.

Seeing that I still needed some time to ease my emotions, Thomas and his assistant sorted out the whole process of my healing:

Lily, female, twenty years old, timid and sensitive personality.

A year ago, Lily went to the suburbs for a holiday with her parents, but she met a couple who had already been wanted by the police. They passed Lily's villa in the process of absconding, they wanted to rob it, but unexpectedly they met Lily's mother who went to the bathroom. They were afraid of the revelation, so they killed Lily's mother. Lily's father was awakened by Lily’s mother's screams, he immediately realized that something had happened. He ran to Lily's room at the first time and let Lily hide under the bed. The couple soon found Lily's father. Lily hid under the bed and watched her father be killed.

After that, Lily suffered from survivor syndrome, she felt great guilt and resented why she didn't dare to run out to help her father. Her personality caused her to live in pain, and she even has symptoms such as delusions. To help her recover, I hypnotized her several times. She regarded me as her boyfriend, and the persuasion of people around her symbolized her cowardly instinct. However, the deep love and bond between her and her parents enabled her to finally overcome her fears, destroy the enemy that plagued her heart with her own hands, and gain forgiveness from herself. Now she is free.

“……I'm on my way / Just set me free / Home sweet home”