#like my favourite parts of ‘place in the world’ were like some of the political stuff

[yourfavblondy]

How they would react if they saw you wearing their jacket

the tittle is pretty much self explanatory

characters: rindou haitani, mitsuya takashi, draken, mikey

RINDOU

It was cold outside and you like usual forgot your jacket at home. And oh how convenient it was when you saw Rindous jacket just laying around. While your boyfriend was talking to some people you swiftly grabbed his jacket and put it on. The jacket provided you with warmth and comfort, it smelled like Rin, intoxicatingly sweet. "Hey babe have you seen my-" Rindou asked turning around but stopping mid sentence when he saw you. He wanted to put on his jacket but how could he take it from you when you looked so damn cute. A light blush crept onto his face and the tips of his ears. One of the most scary people almost everyone feared was fumbling with his words and blushing profusely just because you wore his jacket. "Rin are you alright you kind of froze." you asked waving a hand infront of the blondes face. "Yeah, I'm fine you just look so damn cute." he chuckled wrapping his arms around you lovingly.

MIKEY

You constantly stole your boyfriends hoodies, I mean it was his fault really why did he have to have such comfortable and pretty hoodies. But despite always wearing his clothes you never wore his Toman jacket. At this point Mikey had gotten used to seeing you in his hoodies, I mean yeah sure butterflies always pooled in his stomach and yeah his heart skipped a beat now and again but he was used to it. What he wasn't used to however was seeing you in his Toman jacket, so you can imagine his shock when you showed up to a Toman meeting wearing his jacket. The words leader Mitsuya embroidered on the sleeve were on full display for everyone to see. Everyone knew you were his and if they didn't already now they knew for sure. Mikey shuffled closer towards you wrapping the jacket more around you. His face was dusted with a light pink blush but they didn't need to see that so he choose to bury his head in the crook of your neck wrapping his arms around you waist.

DRAKEN

You were with the gang at some random party Izana decided to host. Everyone was having a great time dancing and laughing, making out and drinking. You were also having a wonderful time singing at the top of your lungs. The alcohol you had drank earlier provided a nice kind of buzz to the already exiting atmosphere. For the party you decided on wearing a short black mini skirt a sparkly silver top and black heels. To Draken you looked out of this world. Everything matched up perfectly, the skirt showed of your ass which was probably Drakens favourite part of your body, he could just stare at you for eternity and never get tired. And thats exactly what he did he kept a watchfull eye on you the whole night just to make sure some creep woudldn't try anything. Once some creep did try to hit on you thinking you didn't have a boyfriend Draken came and politely led you out of the house. "Thanks babe." you said getting up on your tip toes to kiss you taller boyfriend. "I think this is like the fifth guy that hit one tonight." you said chuckling. "Well I can't blame them, you look stunning." Draken complimented nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. He left feather light kisses while wrapping his arms around your waist. "I know how we'll solve this." he let go off you and took off his jacket. "Here." he draped the jacket gently over your shoulders. He let go off you and took a step back. Immediately when he saw you wearing his jacket Draken melted. Such a strong and large man was like putty when it came to you. He was obviously much taller and bigger than you and the jacket which fit him perfectly was oversized on you. Rosy blush crept up on his face. "How do I look?" you asked twirling around nuzzling into the fabric. Draken felt his heart swell at the sight of you. "Better than ever." he stepped close and held your waist before placing sweet kiss to your lips. "Come on let's go inside." you grabbed his hand and led him back inside. Now everyone would know you're his, especially with the words VICE PRESIDENT embroidered on the sleeve.

MITSUYA TAKASHI

Mitsuya had sown a lot of pieces of clothing tailored just for you. He loved seeing you happy while wearing clothing he put so much work and effort into making just right, for you. Currently you were in a train with your boyfriend going on a date. You wore a beautiful jacket that he tailored, but it was a little too hot since the train was crowded. So not wanting to boil alive you opted to take your jacket off. As you were sitting down you layed it gently across your lap. You'll be getting off in two stops anyway so what could happen especially with Mitsuya sitting next to you. A lot apparently because one stop before you were supposed to get off someone ran by you and snatched your jacket. You quickly realised what had happened and tried running after him but it was too late. You looked sadly back at your boyfriend. "Hey, it's no big deal. I'll make you another one." he comforted you. "Yeah, thanks Mitsuya." you said leading him off of the train. As you made your way up the stairs and into the open street you suddenly realised how bloody cold you were. The cold air sent shivers down your spine, it chilled you to the bone. Mistuya noticed you lightly shaking before he, like a true gentleman that he is, took off his jacket and wrapped it snug around you. You glanced up at your boyfriend nuzzling further into the soft fabric. Mitsuya felt like he could explore with adoration. You looked so pretty, he truly didn't deserve you. Mitsuya wrapped his amrs around you holding you close. His cheeks were red but his heart was full of love.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shirt Swap V

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö + Zećira Mušović x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: After the Denmark-England game

By the time you've been returned to Magda and the Swedish girls, you're high on sugar, still wearing Keira Walsh's shirt and finding everything unbelievably funny.

Pernille dumps you in Magda's arms, kisses her softly before hurrying off.

Magda looks at you with wide eyes.

"Where's Rocky?" You ask her.

"What?" She says," No hello for your Morsa?"

You shrug. "Hi, Morsa. Where's Rocky?"

She sighs. "Up in our room. Did you have fun at the match?"

You nod, pulling on your shirt. "Keira Walsh gave me her jersey, see?"

"I can see. And what's this one?"

There's another jersey bundled up in your hand and Magda has an inkling of whose it is.

"Mary Earps!" You chirp," She's England's keeper! She's going to win keeper of the year."

Magda laughs, hefting you a bit higher as she makes her way back into the dining hall. "Is she now?"

You nod. "She is. I know she is."

"You used to know Earps, you know. When you were little."

You frown as Morsa sits down at her table with Frido and Zećira. "No, I didn't."

"Yes you did. Earps used to play with your Momma at Wolfsburg. The same time as Caro did and you remember Caro."

"I don't remember Mary."

"That's okay." Morsa starts to place some food onto your plate. "You were very, very little. I'm still surprised you remember Caro so well."

"Caro's cool," You insist," She scores goals like Momma and talks like Ingrid."

"And Mary isn't?"

"She's cool!" You insist," But I didn't know I knew her when I was very little."

"I've got pictures." Morsa shows you pictures sent from Momma when you were younger.

You were a pudgy baby, you think. Your cheeks are full and your head is kind of big but Morsa's right. There's lots of pictures of you and Mary Earps.

She looks younger too, like you, but she is holding you and she is smiling.

You think for a moment. "Can I wear her shirt please?"

Moster Frido laughs. "I thought Keira Walsh is your favourite player in the world. Are you telling me you'll swap her shirt for someone else's?"

You rolls your eyes. "Keira Walsh isn't my favourite player in the world. My favourite player in the world is Zećira."

Zećira reaches out for a high five that you happily give her.

"Oh, silly me," Frido laughs," But Keira Walsh is your second favourite though. Are you sure you want to swap her shirt for Earps'?"

You give her another condescending look that really has Frido wondering if you were really Magda's because the expression was all Pernille.

"They're only shirts, moster," You say, patting her hand in a way that somehow makes Frido feel like a little child," I don't have to wear them forever."

Zećira snickers. "Yeah, Frido, she doesn't have to wear them forever."

Morsa laughs but helps you change right at the table as you cram food into your mouth.

"Can I wear this one to bed?" You ask her when your head pops through the neck hole and she laughs.

"You're asking me but I don't think you're actually asking me, are you?"

You give her a toothy grin and she ruffles your hair.

"Momma says it's always polite to ask."

"Yes, you can wear Earps' shirt to bed."

You go back to your food, interspersed with accounts of the game and how worried you were when Keira Walsh went down with her knee.

"Morsa," You say randomly," Can Rocky sleep in bed with me?"

Frido and Zećira start laughing, almost hysterically, at the stricken look on Magda's face at your question.

"No, princesse," She says," You can't sleep in bed with Rocky."

"That's okay," You reply," I was only asking to be polite."

Magda chokes on her drink, suddenly feeling out of depth in her parenting here. None of the books ever covered what to do when your child was asking (or really telling) you about sleeping with her pet rock.

"Princesse," She says," I don't-"

"That's a great idea!" Zećira butts in with a grin that makes Magda's eye twitch in outrage," Why don't we go bring Rocky down here and show him your new shirts!"

You quickly wiggle out of your seat and hold your hand out to Magda. "Keycard, please, Morsa."

"No," Magda says, still scrambling to keep in control of the situation," You're not bring the rock down here."

You shrug and turn to Frido. "Keycard, please."

Frido, the traitor, hands over the keycard and you skip off with Zećira to grab Rocky.

[revacholianpizzaagenda]

97 Poets of Revachol pics!

HERE THEY ARE, courtesy of the event's official photographer, Zuzana Šubrtová. The Elysium-based LARP took place in two runs in Terezín, Czech Republic, in the latter half of September. These are from the second run!

I can't possibly describe what it was like to inhabit the rundown tenement of La Cage with more than a hundred other players, bringing to life a whole slice of society: immigrants, barflies, petanque players, sewer people, Union gang members, Wild Pines mercs, disco people, sewer people, looters, street artists, an inevitable mass of fascists, anarchists, communards (or so I'm told), communards (proper), communards (it's complicated), councilmembers, hustlers, taxidermy enthusiasts, the also-inevitable mass of pale-fried strugglers, journalists, Moralintern creeps, RCM chucklefucks, and so on and so forth. The old military hospital burst to life with small human moments and grand revelations happening in every corner at all time, as the gears of history moved toward our inevitable trial run of Le Retour.

We really had it all. Politics, drugs, creeping mold, more drugs, unseen voices steering us toward our best and worst natures, a metaphysical rave, entroponetic anomalies, precognition (scripted), precognition (just kind of happened?? Several times over?), suzerainist coffin deliveries, sweatshop politics, old reckonings, radiant sacrifices (accidental-ish), three-way divorces (one-upping one HDB), strikes and strike-breakers, political dance-offs and political orgies, and did I mention the drugs, under the greatness of history and the pale.

Thanks to the organizers for the colossal effort they pulled off like it was nbd, and to all my fellow dwellers of La Cage.

A few favourites:

First off, this was basically the entirety of my game:

...with a central heartrending tension between that abandon, that 'something beautiful is going to happen', and my character's earthly loves, the family she loved so much. It was really really fascinating and emotionally moving to get to play out that central conundrum in full (and go die on the barricades for an independent Revachol following the push of History) (and also of Franconegro pulling my strings like a marionette in a chilling scene) (but mostly History)

Case in point: me in the back, the Unseen voice/spirit/skill "Doomsayer" to the left, dear husband Tai in the middle. Sorry Tai!

Moralintern mission

Sweatshop workers strike

Both sides of the barricades, right as the game ended (this is not a spoiler, it said up front on the website that that's where the story would end): independentists (feat. His Fuckery Franconegro with the black wings in the background, but also the Unseen of if it sucks hit da bricks, the street martyr and idk who else) and globalists (Dolores Dei, Doomsayer et al)

speaking of those two - here's them in full rave regalia. I love that two of the collective skills of this place are flat-out "Dolores Dei" and "Franconegro", it's so fitting. Can't have current society without them, so here they are, as a molecular part of it.

RCM peeps predictably being serious, professional individuals

Designer drug guy talking to Corrosion who's kind of the local version of Electrochemistry. I'm sure this was a completely hinged conversation that reached sensible conclusions

Wild Pines mercs +1

Disco downtime. The set design for The Bearded Vulture club and The Second Club was out of this world. I hope my own pics can convey some of it.

sweatshop power dynamics (there were accidents, Union leverage, strikes, corruption... you'd think there would be barely time for anything else to go on AND YET)

possibly my fave pic of the whole thing (go Doomsayer!!!). we had specific graffitable areas on the wall and made VERY good use of them. Well, everyone else. My character wasn't much of a graffiti artist, her greatest contribution was turning "Revachol for revacholians" into "Revachol for mold"...

LARP^2

fascist campaigning at the Democracy Picnic

Petanque club...

...actually playing petanque? I never saw them ingame, I was starting to wonder if it wasn't a front for something else

Pictured - no scheming, plotting or quadruple-crossing here as you can clearly see by "Kras Knezhinisky"'s super normal demeanour and unassuming name, which I can totally believe was on his legit birth certificate)

I mention Kras because here's the theatrical taxidermy show with him in the middle narrating the adventures of his antifascist ferret Kommissar Kunixet. Nice pic, I take the shot. Five seconds later, superstar Frittte clerk Jamie Delaney joins in, and what can I do, NOT have Jamie in a shot? Absolutely not, so I take the same exact shot with Jamie in it as well.

And by sheer twist of technology (and of course the pale, and of course vile censorship in defiance of the Romangorod convention)... Kras Knezhinsky of all people gets kommissar-no-kommissar'd. "Kras, the pale is erasing you from our memories, from images," I warn him, showing him the two pictures. One hour later, he gets taken behind the waste disposal facility and shot.

Hm.

(LARP's haunted. These things KEPT HAPPENING. In the first run, that version of my character went "YOU MURDERER" at the specific merc who'd turn out to be connected with her background, a couple of hours before getting that reveal in-game. What's Elysium without some good old-fashioned precognition after all!)

Poor Flowerseller (red dress here) was kind of my Empathy - many valiant attemps were made, however. Uphill struggle.

HARDCORE anodic club leader Konrad Nilsen doing something not so hardcore here, idk what was going on exactly but then again I never even noticed we had a morgue and I had a plot right next room, so what do I know. I know that the end is near. That much for sure. And that the resolution of history's contradictions goes through the pale. But corpses? Nah.

||||||| 😎

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Swords in the Court: Wedding Bells

Secret Garden

Yandere Don John x Reader Part 2

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Nothing but the fact that Don John is hypnotic

Note: This story is set in a fictionalised historical setting. Though there are clear inspirations drawn from the real world and history, this tale in no way tries to explain, change or state any historical, political, communal, geographical or religious 'facts'. Kindly treat this short-series as it is, a fiction

Unedited

You pay no heed to the stares of passing court ladies and lingering servants while making your way towards the Queen’s chamber. You have grown accustomed to them now. Of course, people will stare—you are a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, despite having no house or regal title to your name. As the daughter of a blacksmith, you should not be even in the Queen’s chamber—any royal chamber. But here you are, serving and accompanying. the queen wherever she goes. 

Your father used to say that he was a self-taught man, a person of his stature, should have been illiterate. But he not only taught himself but you as well. And one day, by a twist of fate, you found yourself in the Queen’s presence. She took a liking to you and appointed you as her chambermaid. But by the time the seventeenth summer of your life passed, you were elevated to the position of her lady-in-waiting. You later realised that she needed a true trustworthy lady by her side. The court was divided, and the Queen needed a loyal companion by her side, and she put her confidence in you. 

You are no Lady by birth, but you have learned the court's ways and a Lady's mannerisms. You will never be accepted, of course, you do not expect them to. But as long as you have the Queen's favour and know your place, you are safe.

“What took you so long.”

“Apologies, Your Highness,” You bow down before gesturing for the maid following you to serve the Queen her tea.

“The physician is certain that this shall help you sleep better, Your Highness.”

The Queen nods, taking a tentative sip of her tea. 

“The Prince of Spain will be here tomorrow. And here I am, unable to earn a wink of sleep. How shall I welcome and accompany them if an unrested mind grips me.”

“Forgive me, My Queen but you have taken great troubles, arranging the union, pursuing the King and preparing for the Prince and his companions’ welcome. Sleeplessness might be a result of such responsibilities.”

The Queen smiles faintly and takes another sip “You always know what to say, clever girl?”

“I merely state what is obvious, Your Grace.”

“I haven’t been able to keep track of the court, I have been engaged with the matters of the Princess’s marriage. Anything worthy?”

“Not much, Your Highness, the King has taken an interest in Lord Beecham’s eldest daughter.”

“The Earl of the Walden?”

“I’m afraid so.” You pour some more tea into her cup.

“Wasn’t it he who rebelled against my father when he was King? My dearest husband started a rebellion and won, and now his favourite dogs wag their tails in the court. Strange are the times.” That’s all she says before picking up on her letters to read.

Such news comes as no surprise to her, as long as those ‘pretty playthings’ as she likes to call them do not try to influence the King in ways she holds the power to, the Queen doesn’t mind. The King has his entertainment, the Queen has hers, and only one has it in the public eye—the other needs to be discreet.

“Prepare to welcome the Spanish Royalty tomorrow, and tell the Princess to be ready. The looming war could be thwarted with the Spanish by our side. Your King doesn’t seem to understand that, but as the Queen, I do. They’ve sailed for days, are bound to be haggard, and make sure the supply of wine, and food never runs out, and hopefully, the capital's brothels are ready as well?”

“All has been taken care of, My Queen.”

She nods before assessing you, as if stuck by a sudden realisation “How old are you again?”

“I turned twenty, two moons ago, Your Highness.”

“You mean two months.”

“Yes, My Queen, my apologies.”

She makes a dismissive gesture and puts aside the now-empty tea cup.

 “Don’t be, you should never forget your roots, your reality, where you came from, where you are, and where you can end up. Wear this knowledge like armour, and it can never be used against you.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

“Now go, it is late and tomorrow you must be up earlier than the rest.”

With a greeting of good night, you make your way out of her chamber.

—-----

“Do you see them, now?” Madeline asks, quivering with excitement. 

The young and handsome Crown Prince of the foreign empire, his brother and fellow loyal soldiers riding into the capital—a visual straight out of those romantic fables and poetry that court maidens love so much.

But you are not them. They see the idyllic image of a handsome prince marching towards the palace. You see their banner and the potential this alliance has. The Queen has seen the possibility of a looming war years before it actually might happen and after all these years with her, you know that the Queen is seldom wrong when it comes to politics.

“Look! That’s the Crown Prince. Look at his dark curls, he's magnificent, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Maddy, he is.”

“And there, his brother siding beside him…Oh, and his bastard brother too, riding behind.”

You frown and fix your gaze on the man riding right behind the Princes.”

“I thought bastards do not join such official ceremonies.”

“I heard that the Emperor has recognised him, some say he might even become a Duke there.”

“A Duke? But, he’s a bastard.” You turn to your friend, surprised.

“Birth does not always decide our place in this world. We were lowborns as well. Your father was a blacksmith, mine was a butcher. Look at us now.” 

“We still are lowborns Maddy, this will never change.”

Madeline nods “You’re right, but here we are, overlooking the Prince of Spain marching into the Palace.”

“What is his name?” You ask, intrigued as your gaze fixes on the man in black and white.

“The Prince? He is Mechor Bohorquez de Alvarado, and—”

“Not the Prince, his bastard brother, what’s his name?”

“Him? That’s Don Juan—that’s in Spanish. John,  his mother was not from Spain as I’ve heard.”

“And where do you hear all these from?” You turn to her.

“From the letters I carry.”

“Maddy! They would have you imprisoned at the least for this!” Your eyes widen as you hiss into her ear.

“Take a breath, nobody knows, or suspects. I have been curious, you know?”

“Still, this is dangerous. You will not do it again.” You touch her shoulder to assert “I mean it, Maddy. No playing around dangerously…Please.”

Madeline sighed “Okay, I won’t do it again.”

—--

With a grand welcome has come the dinner— an even grander affair. Pies, cakes, ale, roasts, meat, sweets and chocolates, lots of chocolates, a gift from the Spanish Empire—-the food and drink flow in and empty trays and plates leave the grand hall where the Spanish princes and their men make merry, laugh, drink, and eat. The Crown Prince sits with the King, the Queen and the Princess by their side. The rest of his friends and companions enjoy the never-ending flow of wine and delicacies. At the same time, they play charades of words and intentions with noble women, from the newly blossomed to the ripened, the maiden and the sourly married while their father and husbands go off with other women. 

The norm of the court.

You have seen plenty of it already. You sit with Madeline, tired from running around and ensuring everything is perfect. Your eyes wander around the hall without any particular purpose, until your gaze lands on the bastard Prince—having been granted recognition and now holding the prospect of dukedom, you expected him to be tangled with women in a corner, drunk out of his mind. But he simply stands with a shorter man, that you surmise is some advisor or friend of his, too old to be a squire.

As if feeling eyes on him, his gaze meets yours. 

You like to think that you are above all those silly notions and admirations, that you only want to learn the ways of the court and survive it, excel in it, even. 

But the moment your eyes meet his, you are frozen. Everything seems to stop, everything but the electrifying sensation of his gaze–deep, dark and intense– meeting yours. You feel it in every part of you, because suddenly, everything comes alive in you, things you never existed. 

Your heart thuds uncontrollably.

 But your mind is not racing, it’s not going anywhere at all—there is no thought other than the realisation, that he is beautiful—not exactly the sharp, princely, kind–although it is there, he has something more, something different—he is beautiful with his big brown eyes–sharp but not exactly arrogant, there’s something worse. 

No, no, no. Don’t do that. You are no royalty, you will get no chance to clean up your mistakes.

You chastise yourself and look down at your empty goblet after offering him a polite smile, deliberately making sure that it is no different from the one you offered while welcoming the rest of the guests for the evening. 

But it does not help that you still feel his gaze.

—--

You wish you could wake up to the position of the sun you wanted. But that is the luxury only the royal family enjoys here and the noble ladies who aren’t the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. Besides, you are to oversee the cleaning of the Grand Hall before the King wakes. Everything is supposed to be pristine and shining.

“The corner is still not done, and carpet—is that…” The putrid smell of vomit greets you as soon as you step closer to the ‘mysterious’ stain on the carpet in the hall. “Forget cleaning this, the carpet needs to be replaced.” You dismiss the servants, urging them to be quicker.

You look around the place. Wine stains on the walls, splattered food, some pearls, some shoes, even some clothes left behind. It seems like after you left the place has been through a wild ride.

“Much to clean up?” 

Turning to the entrance of the hall, you find an unexpected face.

“My Lord.” You greet him in your Kingdom’s fashion of formality.

“Don John. That’s my name.” He saunters inside, looking around before your eyes again for an official greeting. 

While something tells you that the belated greeting was neither custom nor negligence, you do not pay heed to his boyish attempt to ruffle your feathers. Subtle, typical of courtly politics but never amiss.

“Prince Don John, it is an honour to meet you, but I’m afraid this…” You look around, partly embarrassed with the mess, though it was most definitely, the Spanish guest’s doing. “Is no place for any of our esteemed guesses to be.”

“Please, you embarrass me, My Lady, I’m afraid my brothers and men have much hand in this…mischief. They get drunk so often and so easily, lose their gentlemanly coats.”

This makes a genuine smile press press out stubbornly. He sports no accent that might give away his Spanish heritage, you notice.

“We are most honoured to have your brave and virtuous men in our palace, and the Crown Prince, for the Princess’s hand.” 

Don John smiles down at you, he is tall, you notice–lean but athletic.

“The court here is most polite and charming.” 

Oh, only if he knew the thrones hiding under the roses.

“Of course it is.” You reply. 

His smirk tells you that maybe he is not as new to this game as you surmised.

“They say my mother was from this land.”

“Here?”

“I am not sure ‘here’, but, somewhere from this beautiful land. His Highness, my…father, says I have her eyes and his temperament.”

“The Emperor of Spain has been most generous with us.”

Don John smiles and looks ahead as you both make your way towards the spring garden—now beginning to turn brown with the onset of autumn.

“I assume this court is not too different from ours, after all, people like us get the opportunity to rise,” he comments, lightly tracing the vines as you two make your way deeper into the garden.

“I’m afraid, my Lord, unlike you, I have no royal blood or upbringing.” 

Don John frowns, you read the questions before they come to his lips and explain yourself.

“My father was a blacksmith who forged a few good swords for the nobility. God bless our kind and generous Queen, she took me under her wing, and took care of my learnings of books and mannerisms.”

“I see” 

There is a slight smile, that does not seem anywhere near mockery. You know what a smile veiling a scowl looks like. His smile has no malice peeking subtle, it is just a courteous smile---either that or he is good at hiding it. It confuses you more. There is no straight line he can be read through. He is no open book. A puzzle, yes, that he is, a puzzle that has all its pieces scattered around. 

All.

Nothing is hidden from you for long.

—----

“And I wish I could smack his head—-” Maddy bursts into another fit of giggles, narrating her adventures during the welcome feast “Have you heard, it’s said that the Prince has never lost a single battle.” 

You shrug, fingers racing the leaves and flowers as you two stroll through the gardens. The Queen’s courtyard had some of the most stunning autumn blooms, along with the fallen leaves on the damp ground. The faraway mist gives the stretches of land beyond the place walls an eerie beauty.

“But some say that he has never lost a war, because in every war, his half-brother, Don Juan has fought by his side. Crushing the enemies like ants.”

“Ants?” You chuckle. I do not doubt Don John’s capabilities on the battlefield, but  slaying enemies like ants is slightly an exaggeration.”

“Yes, could be, or perhaps he is indeed the finest sword Spain has ever witnessed? No wonder the Emperor wants to keep his loyalty.”

“And is he not a threat instead?”

“Why would he be so?” 

You sigh and gaze at the forming mist beyond the palace walls. Most of the view is interrupted by guards standing taut like stretched bows.

“I’ve heard rumours, the Queen, sometimes, I heard her say, that Don Juan, though, to the world younger than the Crown Prince, is in reality, two autumns older.

“What?” Maddy ducks her head and looks at you in disbelief “None of….” Licking her lips, looks around before lowering her voice to whisper “None of the letters ever mentioned.”

“It’s just a rumour, we don’t know the truth.”

“If the Queen’s spy says that…”

“Never heard her mention the source, it was a passing comment.” You explain

“Why would the Emporer give him Dukedom then? He’s a threat to his succession.” 

Maddy is right, Don John indeed is more of a threat than an ally if seen through the shrewd lenses, and you know that all the glories and virtues are nothing more than grand shows— carnival under the roof of sorts.

“Maybe, they want to keep him close. He crushes the enemies like ants, you said it yourself”

“They say he swings his mind in battle strategies more than his sword.” She adds after a moment of thought.

“Then he is a dangerous man.”

“If the Princess marries the Prince, they must produce an heir as soon as they can.”

You sigh and turn to a wilted rose.

“They must. We need the Spanish Ships, a war might be stirring soon.”

******

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part five

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: fighting for my LIFE trying to sort out my student loans rn. also i'm sick. butttt i did just finally get my hands on hogwarts legacy so that's eating up all my time. anyway that's a small update on my life.

also, reminder to follow @runningfrom2am-library and turn on my notifications there to join my taglist for this series!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

Walking into the citadel and down some spiral stairs towards Dr. Gaul's infamous lab, you already have your notepad in hand prepared with the proposal you have made for her.

She likes those, right? Coryo wrote her several for the games and she put them to use. This should be no different.

You have a pencil clutched in one hand unless she has questions, which you are sure she will.

Your shoes click down the large hall as you make your way to the reception desk on the left side, manned by security rather than actual receptionists. Dr. Gaul was not your average doctor, after all.

You stop in front of the counter and slide a piece of paper across it to the man sitting there, a determined but kind expression on your face.

He doesn't even look up.

You let out a quiet sigh, rolling your eyes before knocking on the counter and waving a hand at him.

He looks up then, studying you for a moment with eyes lingering on the scar across your throat before recognition flashes in his eyes. "Can we help you with something?" He asks anyway, as if he was expecting an answer even though you both knew you wouldn't be able to give him a verbal one.

You tap the paper you placed on the counter, sliding it forward more toward him and he picks it up.

'I would like to see Dr. Gaul. I have a written proposal for her.'

He reads it, nodding a little to himself before looking up at you again. "She should have a few minutes, she has a meeting at 2, though." He says, and you nod to him in a silent thank you as he buzzes the doors open for you to enter.

Stepping into the lab that hosted incredibly high ceilings, tanks lining the shelves and walls as well as a pit in the floor straight ahead, you swallow as you look around. You had never been in here before, and you weren't sure if you were more creeped out or more in awe of the whole thing.

"If it isn't my favourite songbird." You look up when you hear the familiar voice of the doctor, resisting to roll your eyes at the nickname, despite her claiming that you had been her favourite of the two of you who had earned the name. These days, it never fails to form a pit in your stomach.

You give her a smile and a polite nod as she walks toward you from between some of the tanks, dusting off her red gloves on the somehow pristine white of her lab coat.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, chickadee?"

In response, you hold out the carefully prepared file folder to her, including your proposal and copies of your own medical records from the operations performed after your attack.

She raises her eyebrows in intrigue as she plucks it eagerly from your hands, opening it up.

Dr. Gaul's eyes widen slightly in surprise as she looks over the "title page" of your neatly formatted proposal, looking up at you again.

"Experiment in Language Efficiency on the Human Body: A Proposal." She reads, letting out a slight laugh.

You watch her nervously, hands clutched around your notebook against your chest. You nod in confirmation, wanting her to know you are entirely serious.

She quickly flips through the pages and your medical records, occasionally glancing up at you.

"Well, this seems to be a compelling proposal." She comments, closing the folder. "But no. I will not be turning you into any kind of experiment."

Your brow furrows in slight disappointment, and you flip open your notebook to quickly write something down for her.

'I volunteer.'

She reads the sheet as you turn it around and she shakes her head, a small smile forming on her lips. "I figured as much, but still, it is too dangerous. I do not experiment on humans. Especially Capitol citizens, and especially those as well-loved as you."

The irony of that is palpable, and your jaw tightens as you scribble your thoughts down on the next page. You thought she had done something to Clemensia, but you did not wish to fuel the rumour mill, so you kept that quiet.

'I believe that if anyone is capable it is you, Dr. Gaul.'

"I'm flattered, and I do not doubt that." She chuckles, holding the folder out to you again. "But that does not make it possible, I am afraid."

In response you just point over to the bird cages against the left wall, tilting your head at her.

Jabberjays: Birds of her own creation designed to mimic the human voice.

"You've done your research." Dr. Gaul comments, clearly impressed and pleased that you would bring them up. "You make a valid point, my jabberjays, they... They were certainly a successful experiment of mine. Undeniably relevant to your cause."

She gazes over at the caged birds thoughtfully. "But look at them now. As you point at them." She nods toward them before looking back at you again. "They were only free for so long before they ended up caged again. Useful, for a while, during the war, but their time of pertinence has passed. You know how that feels, don't you?"

The question was cruel, as she was known to be, but that knowledge didn't make it hurt any less. You take a deep breath in and out through your nose, feeling frustrated and defeated all at once as you turn to walk away.

"Ah, wait a moment, chickadee. I'm not finished." She calls after you, voice echoing in the large lab. You pause, turning around to face her again.

"I am having all my precious jabberjays rounded up from the districts and shipped back to me because, despite their redundancy, I am yet to give up on them. I wish to somehow give them a second purpose, maybe make some tweaks to their genetics." She explains, but you are still mostly uninterested and busy drowning in your disappointment. "What I mean, is that I will consider your proposal, depending on how that goes with them in the coming weeks."

Your heart stops and flutters for a moment at the exciting news. You can't help the hopeful smile that grows on your face as you nod eagerly at her.

'Thank you.'

You write quickly before showing her the sheet, pressing your hand to your chest to signal further your gratefulness.

"That is not a yes, mind you. It is very risky, but I will take it into account. I'll do some tests on defective birds and see if there is a way I can help." She warns you, tucking the folder under your arm. "Now, I have a meeting, if you wouldn't mind. I will be in touch with you, little bird."

You nod again, giving her a small wave before turning and walking back the way you came with a giddy smile on your face.

Walking into the now familiar lab, Coriolanus is slightly nervous. As he always is, in the presence of Dr. Gaul. The coldness of the room in both temperature and design makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but he's used to the chill he gets when he walks in.

Especially now that he didn't know what she had summoned him for.

His worries are quickly dashed and then tripled walking down the spiral staircase, stopping in his step when he sees you coming up.

"What are you doing here?"

Your best friend's voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you look up, having just finished tucking your notebook into your bag. You had little to no interest in pulling it out again, hoping that your long-lasting friendship would allow you to instead just communicate telepathically and spare you the effort.

You just stare at him, just as surprised to see him, opening your mouth like you're going to say something and you try but you still can't. Shocking.

Instead of coming up with any meaningful response, you do the best you can do, pointing at him and then turning up your palm as if to ask him the same thing.

"Me? Dr. Gaul called for me." Coryo answers, thankfully understanding your wordless question. He was better at that than most. "You too?"

You're about to shake your head and try to explain why you were here, but then you think better of it.

He hates her. Hates her experiments, despite what he did to help her with the games. He'd probably flip if he knew the truth.

You nod instead, glancing back down the stairs.

Coryo sighs a breath of relief. At least he wasn't the only one. At least you might be able to give him some peace of mind. "Is it bad? Is it about the mentorship program? Is it-"

You hold a hand up to stop him from his mini spiral, lifting one finger.

'One question at a time.'

Right.

He had the sound of mind to only ask yes or no questions to get to the bottom of what he wanted to know, but he didn't quite get as far as realizing that all of them at once may not be helpful.

"Sorry, is it bad?" He asks again, and normally he would laugh, but he was too anxious to even see the comedy in it like the two of you normally would.

Unsure what else to do, you shake your head and shrug vaguely. As an extra measure, you hold up your hand and twist your palm.

'So so.' The gesture is meant to signal, considering it was a safe enough answer. Nothing Dr. Gaul could have called him here for could be all good news, after all. You don't think, anyway.

"Okay, okay..." Coryo breaths out, nodding to himself.

Feeling a little guilty you step up to the step he's on, gently patting his shoulder and giving him a small smile.

'You'll be fine.'

He seems to interpret this correctly, giving you a small smile in return and gently resting his hand over your smaller one on his shoulder.

You were meant to be reassuring him, but his touch works miracles to comfort you when you weren't even sure you needed it all that much.

These days though, you would cling to any sense of it you could get. Even the tiniest bits. Sometimes, for a flicker of a second, you didn't feel so alone. Coryo could still hear you.

"Thanks. I'll see you soon? Can I come by later?" He asks and you nod in confirmation, giving his shoulder another gentle squeeze as you take another step up so you're about at eye level with him, leaning back to kiss the side of his head in a small bit of encouragement before waving him on.

Coryo can't help the flush that forms on his cheeks as he nods at you, hesitating for a moment before continuing down the steps and you continue back up.

"Oh, Dr. Gaul?" Coryo says, catching himself before he leaves, and she looks up again from her corner desk stacked with papers, your deep red folder sitting right on top.

She looks up, anticipating his question.

"Did you offer an apprenticeship to Y/N as well? I saw her leaving on my way down." He asks, assuming that she must have extended it to you as well. That was why you were here, right? Both called for the same thing? Though, he didn't understand how that could have been a bad thing as you indicated it kind of was when he stopped you on the stairs.

But he knows you well. Having to settle for an internship under Dr. Gaul was far from what you wanted in life, so he can easily see how you could have seen it that way.

"No." Dr. Gaul answers after a moment, head tilted at him. "She just had a question for me."

Well, so much for your honesty.

You never lied to him. At least, Coryo didn't think you did, but here he was, being confronted with the fact that you had. It doesn't settle well.

He can't resist asking. "What about?"

"That is between the songbird and I, I'm afraid." Dr. Gaul responds with a shrug and a sly, knowing smile- taunting him for something she knew about you that he did not. "If she wished for you to know, she would tell you." She pauses, a feigned guilty smile forming on her red-painted lips at the irony of her words. "Well, you know what I mean."

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[wcnderlnds]

something about you | draco malfoy

Summary: After a rough week, you have one two many butterbeers and get help from the last person you’d expect. Warnings: being tipsy?? Word Count: 1.4k Authors Note: this is a repost from my old account. i wrote it in 2020 so its not the best but i wanted it on this account to keep all my best fics in one place <3

Weekends meant Hogsmeade trips which were your favourite part of the week. There was nothing like getting out of the school grounds for a bit after a hectic week of classes. As much as you loved Hogwarts, it was nice to get away from the chaos of the castle sometimes even if it was only for a few hours. It was even nicer after a stressful week and to say this week had been stressful was an understatement. Right from the get go everything had seemed to be going wrong. You’d managed to forget your potions homework which had resulted in detention then, because of that, you’d missed your date with Seamus. It hadn’t been that big of a deal — it wasn’t like your relationship was serious but you had liked him. It wasn’t enough for you to be upset when he asked if you could just stay friends instead but it did put you in a foul mood. It seemed that every time you had something good planned the world tried it’s best to disrupt it. So, the trip to Hogsmeade was needed. Very needed.

Usually, you tagged along with the golden trio but you decided to go solo today telling them that you’d meet them for a drink later on before you all headed back to the castle. As you walked through the main road, you spotted Draco Malfoy and his goons harassing some third year. You and Draco hadn’t really interacted much other than the casual ‘hello’ here and there but he’d always been rather polite around you so why couldn’t he be like that with everyone else? You knew your friends had an issue with him and couldn’t blame them but you had nothing against him. So far he’d done nothing to you but it did annoy you to see him bullying a poor, defenceless boy just trying to enjoy a day out.

“Hey, come on. Leave him alone,” you said walking up to where the incident was happening. Goyle was the first to hear you, turning to face you with the ugliest sneer on his face.

“Back off. This is none of your business,” he said gruffly.

“What exactly has he done to deserve you bothering him? Just leave him alone. You’re a sixth year and he’s a third. Pick on someone your own size.”

“I said back off.”

“Goyle! That’s no way to talk to a lady.” Draco had finally spoken up, glaring at his friend. “Since you asked so kindly, we’ll let little Roger here be on his way.”

“Thank you,” you gave Draco the tiniest of smiles as little Roger ran past mouthing a ‘thanks’ to you.

With that all sorted out, you went on your way not noticing the youngest Malfoy watching you as you did. He’d always found you intriguing. Honestly, he’d always wanted to strike up a conversation with you but since you were in two completely different houses and he had a reputation to maintain, he opted for mostly ignoring you and trying to be civil. Part of him really hated the fact that he couldn’t just do the things he wanted to but he couldn’t take any chances of his father hearing about him doing such things. Befriending someone outside of Slytherin house was frowned upon so keeping his distance was his only option but little did he know that was about to change.

“Barkeep, another!” You yelled out earning funny looks from Harry, Ron and Hermione as you slammed your glass down on the table. You’d been sat with them for half an hour now and had already thrown back about four butterbeers. They didn’t even know how many you’d had before they’d arrived but it was safe to say that with the way you were acting, you were pretty darn tipsy.

“Maybe you should make this your last one,” Hermione suggested, reaching out to place her hand on yours in a comforting manner. “I know you’ve had a tough week but if you want to talk then I’m here.”

All you did was shoot her a big, toothy grin in thanks as your new drink was placed in front of you. “It’s not like I’m sad or anything. I just… need to blow off some steam, you know? When have you known me to get tipsy off butter beer anyway? It’s just one time. It’s fine.”

After another half an hour, Harry declared that he wanted to go back to the castle — Hermione and Ron agreed. They tried to get you to go with them but you refused telling them you’d make your own way back. Harry had tried to pull you up and drag you with them knowing you weren’t exactly sober but you were too stubborn to budge. Ron had somehow convinced them you were smart enough to know what you were doing and with that they left.

It was one drink later when you’d finally decided you’d had enough, getting up out of your seat. But, you’d stood up too fast and with the butterbeer in your system it didn’t help one bit, the whole room spinning. You gripped the chair with one hand to steady yourself.

“You doing okay?” A familiar voice asked you. Your eyes glanced up to meet none other than Draco’s.

“I’ll be honest, blondie, I might have drank a little too much,” you said and couldn’t help but grin at him.

“I can tell.” He pondered for a moment almost having an internal battle with himself before he decided he had to be a decent human being and help you out. “Here,” he said, grabbing your jacket nd helping you put it on. He held his arm out for you. You didn’t even argue lacing your arm through it so he could help you back up to the castle.

The first few moments were silent until you spoke up curious as to why Draco Malfoy of all people was helping you out. “Got a feeling you don’t really do this much especially when I caught you bullying a poor innocent boy earlier.”

“You’d be right but contrary to popular belief, I’m actually a decent guy. I have manners and know when to not leave a lady alone in your state,” he mumbled.

“I’m not that drunk, you know. Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy enough for me to be concerned and it takes a lot to concern me. Why’d you even drink that much anyway? It takes a lot of butterbeers to get anyone drunk. Rough day?”

“Try rough week.”

“Is this about that imbecile Seamus? You can do much better,” Draco pulled a disgusted face at the mere sound of his name coming out of his mouth. At your confused look, he went on to explain. “I was walking past when you two were having a chat. Complete idiot he is if you ask me.”

A little laugh passed by your lips. “Don’t hide how you really feel. But, yeah and no. He and I weren’t even really together. It was just an culmination of things coming together all week. I’m fine, though.”

He looked at you to examine your face for any signs that you were lying but he couldn’t find any. You really did seem okay which was a relief to him. The last thing he wanted was to have some deep hearted conversation. It was a shock to him and you that he was even talking to you as much as he was.

Silence took over again as you reached the castle. Although, you didn’t want to admit it being in his company felt nice. Natural, even. You felt comfortable even when it was silent. There wasn’t any awkwardness. If you didn’t know any better you’d think you actually liked being in Draco’s company. He liked being in yours too but he was nowhere near comfortable enough to admit that.

“Thanks for walking me back. You’re alright, Malfoy,” you gave him a playful nudge with your shoulder causing a slight grin to form on his face. Funny, you’d never really seen him smile before. It looked good on him.

“You too. I meant it, by the way. You can do much better than most of the boys in this retched school.”

“Are you about to make some overly dramatic speech and ask me out?”

This time a large, hearty chuckle came from him and you couldn’t help but feel a little hint of butterflies start up that you’d been the one to get that out of him. Draco shook his head. “You wish but who knows what the future holds, eh? See you around.

With a wink, he headed on into the castle. Well, now you couldn’t wait to bump into your new favourite Slytherin more often.

[lullydoesstuff]

Tips on how to create a Demon Slayer OC

Hello guys and welcome back on my side-blog! Today I wanted to talk about something that might be useful of you want to create a good KNY OC and just... vibe with them or create art, write about them... everything. If you want to see mine you can find all of them on @bluespiderlully (that is also my main blog), but for now let's just talk about some things you have to keep in mind while creating.

🩷 Design

This part is very important when it comes to art and descriptions, I'll start to say that I've seen MANY original versions of the Demon Slayer Corp uniforms and that many of them look good, so if you design a totally new one, go for it and slay. Another important thing concerning the uniform is buttons, there's plenty of characters redesigned out there, they have colorful buttons in their uniforms and they all look so cute, but in canon we see that the buttons' color is used to define the rank of someone, common slayers have silver buttons, Hashiras have golden ones. We're talking about a military thing, so rank is pretty important and this should be kept in mind. Last but not the least: it's 1920s Japan, so maybe having your character wearing some ballet shoes or sneakers might result cringy, avoid that.

🩷 Backstory

This is maybe one of the most important parts. When you write a backstory you should consider the period of time where the story takes place and the general rules of the world where your OC is living. For example, Taisho Era: your character could have lost their parents due to WW1, or they could come from America or other parts of the world used to interact with Japan (selling/buying stuff), possibilities in this case are infinite and this era gives you the opportunity to create the best backstories ever. Next, Japan had major tensions with China and Korea so this gives you the opportunity to insert this in your OCs backstory (this is something I didn't use, I just have an half-American character but I regret not using any of this political tension for any of my characters, please of you're out there and trying to create an OC, do it, it's very interesting).

🩷 Personality

Don't make your character a Mary Sue/Gary Stue. If you don't know what a Mary Sye/Gary Stue is I'll explain very quick: it's a too perfect, too kind, too sweet characrer, without any flaws and loved by everyone... I think the reason why this characters don't work is clear, the lack of internal and external conflict is very important, since we're talking about Demon Slayer let's take Tanjiro as an example. Tanjiro is kind, but he's not perfect and he keeps asking himself if what he's doing is morally okay, he keeps tormenting himself about the fact that he's actually killing people just for his mean to turn Nezuko back into a human and he blames himself for other people's deaths... this is the demonstration that you can write a kind and sweet character, but focus on thier psychology and ideas, if they're already perfect they won't have any evolution, and once they had one maybe at the end of the story, don't make them perfect either, especially since you're talking about a world were your OC would most likely be a soldier, if they end up being alive they'll have traumas and let's be honest, no one will ever be perfect.

🩷 Power

Okay, so this is maybe the main point. DON'T. MAKE. YOUR. CHARACTER. OP... thanks, here's a cookie for you 🍪. If your character is an Hashira like mines, they ABSOLUTELY need a reason why they're one, okay? They can't be weak of course, they need to be very very skilled at something. We all agree about that but making your character extremely powerful, extremely strong and skilled, "they're the strongest Hashira ever", "they can solo Muzan" doesn't make your character interesting, it makes your character cringe. But of course they can have skills that others don't have, let's take one of my characters as an example: Ayumi Shinazugawa, my favourite child. She has a bow, no one else has one and she's really skilled with it, no one is as skilled as her... with a bow... because Ayumi is a 1.50mt schizophrenic blueberry with anxiety, she's not stronger than other Hashiras. If they need a sniper, okay, they'll take Ayumi, if they need anything else they'd take someone else, definitely, and she's not the kind of character to be sent in a mission alone, it's just unsafe.

🩷 Relationships

We're now at the last point. Having characters that are siblings with other characters in the show can become very very interesting, because you can explore more the canon character too, I personally love this trope everytime. But now let's come to romantic relationship, ships, the best thing on Earth after white wine mixed with strawberry juice. First, if your OC is an adult please leave Muichiro, Tanjiro and every other minor alone, if you want your character to date one of these the way is very simple: make them a minor too, shipping a minor with another minor is fine and it's realistic too, if you think it's wired just think about your first romantic relationships and crushes... how old were you? Probably 14/15. There's another thing you must consider, the fact that many characters in the Demon Slayer universe have a rude personality, I mean, you could totally ship your character with people like Obanai or Sanemi, but their personality should at least match theirs or being similar, to date someone you have to get along with this person, so consider this, it's not something to ignore, and it absolutely counts for friendships too. Consider that if your character is very kind they could have disagreements with characters like Obanai or Sanemi, and the disliking would probably be mutual.

I hope this post was useful for you, and I hope you all come out with amazing OCs, I love to see them and I love how much creative this community can be so please don't spare your creativity and give life to the OC in your head that just wants to be drawn or written.🩷

[storiesfromafan]

Confessions of the Heart

A/N: it's taken me a few days, but here is part 2 to Antisocial Bookworm. I am so grateful for all the note's it and my other Mattheo story has gotten =^^= I hope this is on the level of the 1st part haha.

I will also be fixing up this story and my other one, once I can get to my boyfriends laptop.

Mattheo x Fem!Reader

Summary: set after the Slytherin party. Mattheo finally confesses to you how he feels..

Confessions of the Heart

Time could be a funny thing, or it could be cruel. In the passing weeks since the Slytherin house party it was unkind to Mattheo. Those fleeting moments with you gave him a taste of something that he was now craving. He wanted more time with you, more moments that would suffice the part of him that craved your look, your presence. In the time since the party he hadn't gotten a chance to be close to you. Sure there had been classes and meal times, but never as close as he'd like.

Lounging by a tree in the courtyard, with a book in hand, Mattheo had taken some time in the afternoon for himself. He quite liked being on his own for a while. It gave him time to sort through his thoughts, or pass the time with a book. Books; a new habit he had taken too after the Slytherin party. Books reminded him of you. And he wanted to feel closer to you. So here he was, in a place you would frequent with a book. Part of him hoping, no wanting, you to cross paths. 

You on the other hand had taken to doing your best to be invisible after the party. Though for the first week to two weeks that had been hard to do. The suck and blow game, and your kiss, with Mattheo was all the students were gossiping about. And with one piece of gossip, there were rumours that followed. Some were mild, while others were wild and greatly untrue. But it didn't take long for the rumours to be all gone, no doubt from Pansy and Mattheo.

If Pansy had heard anyone gossiping about you, she would shoot them down with her sharp words and fierce gaze. Maybe even bringing to light some rumors of the offenders own. Mattheo, as you knew, had gone up to anyone that spoke ill of you. He would have been calm and advised them to forget the rumors, but if they protested or he found out they had not stopped, he would end it with his fists. Which led to more detentions, as well as bruises and cuts to his face and knuckles. Including the prominent cut across the bridge of his nose he was currently sporting. But he would gladly wear any bruises and cuts, like badges, if it was to defend your honour.

You had obviously been avoiding Pansy, Mattheo and those from the party. Only dealing with them if necessary. In the classes you had with Pansy, the girl had taken to sitting with you if possible. And chatting to you about the class work, her friends, gossip, etc. You were polite and let her do as she wished. You didn't mind her company. And she had taken the time to seek you out and include you. Maybe Pansy was growing on you. Mattheo was an entirely other thing. Yes there were classes you shared with the curly brunet, but you kept to one side of the room, and he the other. There were times your gazes would meet, and hold for a few moments, before you'd look away. He had been nice to you, but did that mean he wanted to be friends? Surely it was a mistake, you told yourself.

Like you would have any afternoon, you were headed to the courtyard with a good book. But upon walking out of the castle doors, behind some other students, you spotted a familiar figure in your spot. Taking advantage that Mattheo hadn't seen you, you retreated back into the castle. What was he doing in your spot? Surprisingly alone, and with a book in hand? Has the world gone mad? With your favourite spot being commandeered, you headed for the library. Sure there were students coming and going there, but it was a cosy place to read. After all, the place was full of books.

Time had passed and dinner in the Great Hall was getting closer. Most students had packed up and left the library. The only few remaining were the serious studiers, and yourself. Marking the page of your book you thought it best to start getting ready for dinner. With your bag packed you left your little corner in the library and walked into a large foyer that had a beautiful mermaid fountain, which most students conjugated around at various times of the day. Upon passing the fountain you were greeted by Pansy and another Slytherin girl you hadn't really talked to. Pansy parted with her friend before focusing on you.

"Y/N/N! Feels like I haven't seen you all day" she said smiling fondly at you.

You gave her a small smile. "You saw me this morning in Potion's class".

You both fell into step with each other, heading for your common room. Pansy talked mostly during your walk, you gave some input at times. It felt more comfortable when you talked to the dark haired female at your side. You didn't feel as uncomfortable, or unsure with every interaction you both have.

"So I am going into Hogsmeade on Saturday to do a bit of supply shopping. Do you want to join me?" Pansy asked, smiling at you, hopeful you'd say yes.

You were unsure if it was wise. But you wouldn't mind a trip to Hogsmeade, you yourself were in need of a few things. Like a new book or two. "Sure Pansy, I wouldn't mind going to Hogsmeade with you".

Pansy had been surprised you had willingly agreed to join her, but nonetheless excited. Upon reaching your destination, you both agreed on the finer details for Saturday's trip into Hogsmeade before parting ways. You went to your dorm, dropping your bag by your bed before falling backwards onto the soft mattress with a deep sigh. Usually, at a time like this, you would have either school work or books on your mind. But of course you had one particular Slytherin male on your mind.

At the same time as you, Mattheo had made it back to his own dorm. Sitting at his desk he lightly tossed the book he had been reading on the surface before him. He had spent his afternoon in the courtyard with the hope of crossing paths with you, but it never happened. He felt deflated, for he had gotten his hopes up. Maybe you weren't interested in him like he was you. But if you weren't, why would he find you looking at him across a room?

Pulling at the curls upon his head, Mattheo let out a frustrated groan. Any other girl would have been putty in his hands by now. But you weren't like the other girls. And he liked that. Yet part of him wishes it wasn't this hard. He wished you had shown up today in the courtyard, taking a spot under the same tree as him, preferably close to him. At first there would have been silence, but eventually he would have started a conversation with you. The topic might have been the current book you would have been reading. From there the conversation would have, hopefully, flowed nicely. And before heading back into the castle he would have worked up the courage to ask you to The Three Broomsticks on Saturday, not a date but hopefully something like one.

~~~

Saturday came around in no time. That morning you had gotten up and got ready for the day. Your roommates were also going to Hogsmeade, so the room was buzzing with plans. Dressing in jeans, a light turtleneck jumper and ankle boots, with your hair put up in a messy bun and bangs brushed down. One of your roommates commented on your outfit, suggesting some lip gloss. She received a slap to her arm from another girl in the room, which confused you. But part of you thought it might have been a comment on your kiss with Mattheo. The girls in your room at first after the party, had given you looks while whispering. But it stopped soon after, making you think Pansy had gotten to them. Since then they have been nice.

Heading to the Great Hall for breakfast, you walked alone enjoying the peace. Everyone from your year that you passed were discussing Hogsmeade and their plans. Upon reaching the Great Hall, Pansy was talking with Draco and Blaise by the giant doors. Seeing you, she called you over to the three. Reluctantly you walked over to them.

"Morning Y/N/N!" Pansy greeted me with a bright smile.

"Morning" you replied to her and the boys with her.

"Y/L/N" Draco nodded his head to you. "We'll talk to you later Pansy". With that Draco and Blaise took their leave, and headed to the Slytherin table.

Pansy invited you to join her and a few of her friends for breakfast, which you decided to accept. Usually at breakfast you'd sit alone and read, be it school work or one of your books. Pansy and her friends talked every moment you all sat at the Slytherin table. Just down from them sat Draco and Blaise, Mattheo nowhere in sight.

Mattheo had slept in, waking to find his room empty. Upon seeing the time he got up quickly and rushed to get ready, he didn't want to miss breakfast. Once dressed he grabbed his jacket and headed for The Great Hall. Just about every female student he passed gave him the goo-goo eyes and flirty smile. No doubt half, or all, had been hoping he'd ask them to Hogsmeade. If he had to ask any girl in the school, there was only one choice. You; his antisocial bookworm.

Reaching the Great Hall, Mattheo smiled seeing there was still a decent amount of time to have breakfast. With a spring in his step, the thought of what he would eat this morning running through his mind, he failed to notice you sitting with Pansy and her friends. He took a seat next to Draco, clapping the blonde on the back. Blaise poured Mattheo some juice, while he started to put food on the plate before him.

“Cutting it close” commented Draco stirring his tea.

“Yeah, tell me about it” Mattheo said with a sigh. “Thought I’d have been woken up”.

Blaise smirked. “You looked very comfy, with a silly grin on your face. Wonder what you had been dreaming about”.

Mattheo choked on the juice he had just sipped, then coughed. “Bullshit”.

Draco laughed. “He’s telling the truth. So who were you dreaming about, huh? Maybe the recluse, antisocial bookworm”. Draco looked down the table from where they sat, gesturing to the person he had just mentioned.

Mattheo’s gaze followed where Draco’s was, and there you sat. So close, but still to far away. He watched how Pansy and her friends were talking, all the while you looked bored, probably wishing you had a book right then. A small, goofy smile formed on his lips, that didn’t go unnoticed by Draco and Blaise. The pair had been watching their friend closely since you were mentioned. They weren’t stupid. They could see a change in Mattheo since the party. And they figured the time on his own was an attempt to get close to you. Though he never got a chance alone with you.

Feeling like you were being watched you looked around, only to find those familiar deep brown eyes on you. When Mattheo finally made it to the table escaped you, and you had been somewhat aware of your surroundings. A small smile formed on his lips as you stared at him, knowing he had your attention. When had the dynamic shift between you? You had always been solitary, choosing to be separate from everyone else. Books replacing friendships & love interests, for it was easier than reality. But here you were, sitting with Pansy and her friends, have the attention of the Slytherin heart throb. The world must have fallen off its axes, & gone crazy.

"Ready to go?" Pansy's sudden question ripping your focus from Mattheo.

Looking at the girl next to you, you blinked a few times processing what was going on. "Ah…yeah" you said breathlessly. 

Pansy and you got up from your seats, Pansy saying a farewell to her friends, before the both of you headed back to your dorms to get your coats for the walk to Hogsmeade. All the whole time you moved from your seat till you left the Great Hall, you could feel his eyes on you.

Mattheo was cursing Pansy for taking you away from him. That eye connection was the most interaction with you he'd had in a day. He wanted it to last forever, or till he could get to you and talk to you. But it was lost now. And so he took to sulking.

"Cheer up" Draco said, clapping Mattheo on the back. "You'll have another chance at talking with Y/L/N. Her and Pansy will be in Hogsmeade. I've already invited Pansy to The Three Broomsticks, so she'll be with her".

Hearing those words cheered Mattheo up. He'd have another chance, and get to have a butterbeer with you. Not to mention the walk back to Hogwarts. Getting up with Draco and Blaise, all three boys put on their coats and decided to start making their way to Hogsmeade.

~~~

The walk to Hogsmeade with Pansy had been pleasant. Of course the dark haired girl had talked for most of the walk, but you learnt more about Pansy and who she is as a person. And you even engaged more in conversation with her, which surprised Pansy but also made her happy. The first place you were dragged was a small clothing store. Pansy was looking for new gloves and socks. After that you were dragged to a store to get some potion supplies, which suited you well as you needed a few items yourself. Pansy had made some jokes from different items, which you found entertaining and laughed at. The banter between you two was flowing nicely, not forced.

You briefly stopped for something to eat before continuing on shopping. You even got to pop into the small bookshop owned by a lovely lady named Doris. She was a sweet lady, who got muggle books in and would give you first pick. There was a good selection of stock that came in, but you decided to buy Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, and Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. You were feeling the need for something different, something with sadness, passion and romance. Though the two books were different, both would please your needs. Once finished their Pansy suggested having a butterbeer, and you agreed.

Reaching The Three Broomsticks you both entered with a smile, removing your coats Pansy headed in further before you. Then you heard Pansy’s name being called by a familiar voice. Walking to Pansy’s side you were greeted with the sight of Draco and Blaise. You felt a sigh of relief leave your lips that it was just the two Slytherin’s. But a small part felt disappointed not seeing the deep brown eyes of Mattheo. It was best he wasn't there. He was probably on a date with some girl, more fitted to be his main girl then you.

Both you and Pansy took a seat at the table that was closest to the fireplace. Pansy filled both boys in on your day. And in turn they had spoken a bit about their own. Your focus went from those at the table with you to the other students in the establishment. It was a buzz with chatter and laughter. There were a few couples that were quite cosy together, and one couple that looked to be on a first date. The group at the back were laughing and cheering over something you couldn't hear, but it was infectious nonetheless. Emerging from the group was a mop of brunet curls before seeing a warm smile on his face as he dusted off his sleeves. Another male clapped him on the back.

Mattheo had been pulled in by a group of students, a heated discussion on the current Quidditch season so far this year. He had tried to get away from there for the last ten minutes, and finally making his break, upon looking up he was greeted by the sight of you sitting at the table he’d left Draco and Blaise at. Oh how you looked cute right now. Pulling himself together, Mattheo headed over to the bar and ordered three butterbeers before heading to his friends with the drinks in hand.

"About time you got back" commented Draco as Mattheo put the butterbeers on the table, and slid one to Pansy, who thanked him.

"Yeah, once they get started it's hard to escape" retorted Mattheo, sliding over a butterbeer while looking you in the eyes.

"Thank you" you said softly, taking the offered drink, to which Mattheo gave you a wink.

Oh how that wink affected you. Your heart fluttered and your stomach turned. You had seen him wink before; to friends or other girls. But to be on the receiving end of it, it was going to do you in. Then those dark thoughts crossed your mind, telling you that you weren't worthy of him. That he deserves someone better, a female lead that was beautiful and smart. Looking at the butterbeer in your hands, you only half listened to the conversation going on at the table. Focusing more on your negative thoughts.

Mattheo couldn't help but look at you, watch you after giving you the butterbeer. He was sitting across from you, you were finally close to him again. He wondered what was going on in your mind. What were you thinking about, maybe him. He hoped it was him. A small silly smile formed on his lips at the thought of you thinking of him. Slowly you looked up, both your gazes meeting. He'd almost forgotten how clear your Y/E/C eyes were, all the while you could drown in his deep brown eyes. This could be like a moment from your books. The way he looked at you, paired with the cosy atmosphere of The Three Broomsticks. How you both didn't notice anyone else around you when you looked at each other. Something flashed in his eyes, you noticed. But you were unsure what it was. Mattheo on the other hand; the longer he stared into your eyes the more he knew that his crush was growing. He knew he liked you, and had to tell you in hopes you feel the same.

“Have you had a good trip to Hogsmeade?” Mattheo asked, finally saying something to you.

You nodded your head, “yes I have...Pansy and I went shopping”.

He smiled a lopsided grin. “That’s good. Did you buy anything?”

Again you nodded. “Yes I got some ingredients for potions, very boring. And a few books” you replied with a smile, thinking of your new friends that lay in a bag by your feet.

“Oh? What books?” Mattheo asked, genuinely interested, which surprised you.

With a small look of shock on your face, you brought the bag up and took out the books. “I got Wuthering Heights, and Jane Eyre. Both Muggle books, but I find them fascinating...”

Mattheo took both books, looked them over & had a quick read of the blurb on the back. If he hadn’t known you were one for romance or love, these books gave a small indication you were. Though there was love, there was distance and longing, as well as revenge and anger, mixed with some tragedy. 

“They’re silly, I know...” you said softly, as you put the books away. “But I find them interesting”.

“It’s not silly. You are allowed to like what you do” Mattheo said, smiling warmly at you when you looked his way. “I have begun to get into books myself, even a few Muggle ones” he stated, whispering about the Muggle books. Knowing Draco and Blaise would not let him live it down if they heard him.

That surprised you. You hadn’t taken him for a fan of Muggle literature. Or really one for reading. Mattheo was the bad boy. A list of girls that he had snogged or done more, as long as one of Snape’s lectures. Of course you’d seen him read but that was school books or magical world literature. The few times you’ve seen Mattheo in the library was occasionally to study, or rather getting answers to class homework, but mostly when he was finding a quiet corner to snog a girl.

Before your conversation could continue, Pansy said it was time to go. But before going back to Hogwarts, she suggested a trip to the Shrieking Shack. The boys said they’d come with, saying you girls would need protection. Which Pansy scoffed at. The walk to the abandoned house didn’t take long; Pansy, Draco and Blaise up front, while you and Mattheo walked behind them in silence.

By the time you made it to the Shrieking Shack the sun was starting to set. The boys stopped a fair distance from the building, while you and Pansy moved closer. Seeing the boys had stopped you both turned around and looked back at them.

“Seriously? I thought you were here to protect us?” Pansy asked in a baby voice. That made you giggle.

“We-we are” said Draco, clearing his voice. “Happy to wait here and if anything happens we’ll come to your aid”.

Mattheo laughed at his friend. Clapping both boys on the backs, he stepped forward. “I’ll join you ladies, happy to protect you” he winked at you.

“Our hero” Pansy said with a smug smile before looking back at Draco.

The three of you walked closer to the building, stopped at the fence of the property. Pansy and Mattheo talked about the building, the history and the rumours of the shack. You looked around, observing the abandoned building. You tried to picture what it might have looked like, if a family had lived there or was it a single person. Then you started to think of how it would be described in a book. One could describe it as a deserted, forsaken or unoccupied run down building that was boarded up in an attempt to conceal its insides from the world or to keep the outside world out. The wind rustled through the building causing the most haunting sound to hit one's ears.

While you seemed distracted Pansy moved closer to Mattheo and whispered, “if you are planning to make any kind of move you better do it soon”.

Mattheo’s eyes widened, nearly popping out of his head. “W-what!?”

Pansy slapped his arm, “keep your voice down”. She glanced at you and saw you were still oblivious. “I know you like her. And she is nice, sweet and shy...so don’t break her heart, or else I’ll break your nose”.

“I-I” he spluttered. Not sure what to say, but he decided he couldn’t hide it from the girl before him. “Okay...I like Y/N. Do you think she likes me?” He sounded like a scared child.

Pansy offered a small smile. “I believe she does, but she’s different. She’s not like the usual girls you ‘date’ Theo” Pansy said with air quotes.

“Oh I know she’s different” he said looking at you, a loving smile upon his face.

Pansy giggled, “then go for it!”

Mattheo looked back to Pansy and nodded his head. He had to confess to you that he likes you. Talking to Pansy seemed to give him a confidence boost. He felt he could just about take on the world. He just hoped you wouldn’t reject him. Pushing down the fear of rejection, Mattheo collected his thoughts and was ready to do this. Pansy had suggested along the walk back to the castle that he pulled you aside and you both talked. And he agreed. They had a plan.

“Lets head back before it gets too late” Mattheo’s words brought you back to reality. Pansy agreed with him.

Meeting back up with Draco and Blaise, the lot of you started the trek back to the castle. Once again you and Mattheo brought up the rear. It was quiet between you but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The light in the sky was almost gone as you came to the turn off on the main path that would take you into the Dark Forest. Pansy gave Mattheo a look before suggesting you stay with Mattheo, and watched the last of the sunset and the first stars.

Draco and Blaise started to protest but Pansy put an end to it, before the three took off and left you two on your own. Now on your own, you stood there unsure what to do. Alone with Mattheo. You had been doing your best to avoid him, and within a day you were back to a close proximity with him. And it was nice. You took a few steps along the path, closer to school, Mattheo not far behind you.

“Looks like a clear night sky” Mattheo commented looking up at the slowly darkening sky, and a few stars littering the heavens.

You stopped and looked back at Mattheo, before looking up to where he was looking. “Yes, I think so...”

Mattheo watched you talk, taking you in as you looked to the sky above. He noted how the almost faded light outlined your face, and highlighted your H/C locks. He gulped. You were stunning right now, you looked like an unearthly creature. When you turned, and your eyes met for the third time today. He was so close, closer then he had been. When did he get close? With one step Mattheo’s body would be just touching you. You felt your breath hitch at the thought, and your stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of him touching you.

“You look lovely today...” Mattheo said, wishing to kick himself. “Not that you don’t any other day!” His nerves were starting to rise.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Ah...t-thank you?” you asked breathlessly, unsure what else to say.

Silence settled in after that, leaving you both unsure and uncomfortable. Deciding enough was enough, you told Mattheo you were going to head back to the castle and started to walk on. Seeing his chance starting to slip, Mattheo quickly moved and grabbed your wrist with his hand.

“Wait!” he exclaimed in a panic. “Y/N, please wait. I-I need to talk to you”.

You turned to look at Mattheo, confusion on your face. “W-what is it Mattheo...?”

Oh his name leaving your lips, hearing your voice speak his name. It was music to his ears. “I need to confess”.

“Confess?” you questioned in confusion. 

Releasing your wrist Mattheo stood up straight, taking a deep breath. Now or never. “Y/N...I want you to know that you are different, different good! Not different bad. I like that you keep to yourself, that you read books whenever you can. I like that you don’t listen to all the bullshit students talk, and choose to live in your own world”.

You looked at Mattheo in a slight panic, you had an idea where this was going and you were undeserving of him and his affections. “Mattheo, stop please! This isn’t right, I’m not right...for you”.

With those words you turned and started to head back to Hogwarts at a faster pace. Mattheo, stunned for a moment, was quick to go after you, calling your name. You continued to keep walking, ignoring his cries. Then you felt your arm being grabbed and Mattheo pulling you to a stop and looking at him, though you didn’t meet his eyes.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth be a liar;

But never Doubt I love” Mattheo recited from memory.

‘Hamlet by William Shakespeare’ you told yourself.

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep. The more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite”

‘Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare’.

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you” Mattheo said, bringing his hand up to cup your face.

‘Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin’ you thought as his hand touched your skin.

Realising that Mattheo’s hand was holding your cheek, along with great literature confession’s of the heart. Your mind was at a loss. What was happening? Has the world finally lost it? Or were you dreaming? The later more possible. But your mind could never come up with how good it felt to have his skin touching yours. Mattheo searched your eyes, trying to gauge what you were thinking or feeling.

“And finally, my own confession; I like you Y/N. I like everything about you, my antisocial bookworm. Or should I say my main girl”.

You felt your face warm up. You were right, he was confessing to you. He had recited words from books that you had read, which means at some point Mattheo had read them. Another surprise that he would have taken the time to do so. And then to give you his own, Mattheo Riddle, confession. Which was the best out of all of them.

“Are you sure?” You asked unsure.

He blinked before laughing. “Am I sure? Yes I am! I know I like you, I adore you. But do you like me?”

You gulped. “I-I...I do like you” you finally spat out.

The smile that crossed Mattheo's face was bright, it met his eyes and they twinkled with the starlight. He decided it was now or never. Mattheo stepped closer, leaning down closer to your face. This was it, you knew he was going to kiss you, and you welcomed it. As his lips lightly touched yours, soft and warm he noted, you both felt a small spark. Drawing back he looked at you, seeing if you disliked the kiss or did not want him. But there was joy, happiness.

Not wasting time Mattheo went in for another kiss. This time pressing his lips firmer to your own. That spark was there again, but stronger. He felt your hands come up to rest on his chest, he feared you would push him away. But your hands gripped at his coat. Taking that as a sign to continue Mattheo brushed his tongue along your bottom lip, and you gingerly opened your mouth. Mattheo then deepened the kiss, taking your breath away and sending your mind into overload. Slowing down the kiss, Mattheo pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and looking into your eyes.

“I take this as you will go out with me? Or should we just skip to boyfriend and girlfriend?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

You went red again in the face, something Mattheo was loving. He decided he would do anything to get that reaction from you, it was just too cute.

“What do you want...?” You asked him softly.

“Be my girlfriend Y/N/N” he answered with a cocky smile.

So you agreed. Making Mattheo the happiest he has ever been. And with that you headed back to the castle, first holding hands before Mattheo moved to wrap his arm around you, making you blush yet again. And though you were embarrassed, you were the happiest you could be. Maybe you weren’t a background character after all. You were the main girl, who got the main boy.

A/N: Constructive feedback welcome. Hopefully you have enjoyed this story. Also, like to thank my boyfriend for reading my story before I post them, and putting up with my fangirl ways lol.

[maxsimagination]

𝗶'𝗺 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝗺 - 𝗰.𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗿𝗱

summary: drunk guys can’t seem to take a hint when girls brush them off.

-> bit spicy near the end

𖦹 masterlist

𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗔 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, and i was standing in caitlin's room getting ready. we were going out for drinks with some of the other arsenal girls; leah, alessia, katie, steph, lia and lotte. they had won the game they just played the day before so i thought that warranted a night out for drinks.

plus i hadn't been out with caitlin in a while. we were always balancing her career and training with mine, especially since she was a footballer and i was a physio.

i had just finished the light makeup that i could be bothered to put on and pulled two dresses out of the closet. i held them both up to my body trying to decide which one; there was a pale green, almost teal, dress with glitter that shone in the light and small silver chains as the straps, or a light blue slip dress that could be tightened at the back.

cait came out of the bathroom then, dressed in her black pants and white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the first two buttons left undone. she circled her arms around my waist from behind me, head leaning on the crook of my neck.

"i think the green one." i paused and held the two pieces to my body once more before hanging the blue one on back up and throwing the green one on the bed. "the green dress it is."

i turned around in her arms and she settled into my embrace. i pried myself away from cait's hold and starting slipping on the chosen garment. i pulled the straps up and cait was already moving my hair out of the way to zip the back up.

"thank you, caity." she pressed a kiss to my lips in response and i let out a light giggle and picked up the heels i'd chosen. i might regret it at the end of the night but for now it was worth the pain to look good. i grabbed my bag and sling it over my body, putting my phone, wallet keys and chapstick in there before i was ready.

"okay let's go."

we went out to the car, cait jumping in the drivers' seat. she had volunteered to stay sober so i could have a couple of drinks if i wanted to. it was a short drive to the bar we were meeting at and the other girls were already waiting out the front for us.

we both hopped out of the car and i gave each of them a hug. i hadn't seen leah or alessia since before the world cup when they were playing for england. the instant we entered the bar, there was people everywhere and music pumped through the building.

we grabbed a table in the corner and got settled. i volunteered to grab the first round and stood up to go to the bar when caitlin pulled my hand back and placed her card in my hand. "i can't use this cait, take it back."

i tried to give it back to her but she insisted.

"at least use it for the first round. i needa take care of my girl." i grinned down at her. "only the first round." she smiled and relented, sending me on my way. the bar was crowded but i found a seat and flagged down a bartender soon enough.

while i was waiting for the drinks, i was approached by a guy, he looked decent but i already knew how it was going to go. "hey, can i buy you a drink?" it started off okay, i politely declined. "no thankyou, i'm waiting on some already." he nodded and sat down on the stool next to me.

"what are you doing here?" he was blunt and straight to the point, i appreciated it and the lack of cringey pick up lines. "just on a night out with the girls." "could i get your number?" i knew it was coming and this was my favourite part of letting guys down. "no, i have a girlfriend."

a slight nod towards cait made him look over and he smiled back at me. "ah ok, apologies for overstepping." he collected his drink and gave a last smile before walking over to his group of friends. it was guys like him that i appreciated when i told them i was taken.

the bartender got all the drinks to me on a tray and i walked them back over to my table. cait had a hand on my thigh the second i was in the seat. "what did he want?" she spoke into my ear. "he asked for my number, but i told him i had a girlfriend. he was chill about it though." she nodded and rubbed her hand a little higher up my leg, slightly under the hem of my dress.

——

it had been about an hour and i was only on my second drink. alcohol had never been my thing and it didn't help that i was usually blackout after 7, minimum. the group decided it was my turn again so i stood up and this time cait came with me. we placed the order, me and cait both getting plain sprite.

we were waiting patiently when one of the previous guys' friends approached the bar next to us. he was clearly running on more alcohol than i was and i tried my best to ignore him. "can i get you a drink, pretty lady?"

i internally groaned, i didn't want to do this again. "no i'm good." my polite responses had left my body after the first guy, there was only so much i could take. "how about your number then?" he persisted and i tried to ignore him again.

"hey, i'm talkin' t'you. can i have your number?" "no." it was blunt, but this guy wouldn't leave it alone. thank goodness i had cait with me this time. she hadn't said anything but was watching if anything happened.

"why not?" there was a slur in the guys' words as he tried again. "because i have a girlfriend." he wasn't surprised at all when i said that, i figured his friend had already told him. cait bought our conjoined hands on top of the bar surface so the guy could clearly see. "it's fine, she can come too." he was slowly inching closer to me and i was getting uncomfortable.

"we aren't going with you. please leave us alone." it seemed that it was then that he got bold.

he placed his hand on my thigh and i jolted away from it. "don't touch me." cait was immediately on her feet and standing in front of me. "you need to leave us alone. now." her voice was stone cold and she was glaring at him, hard. if looks could kill, that guy would be dead.

apparently that wasn't enough for him to stop his advances, however and he tried one last time to ask me or us for our numbers. i had enough and stepped forward. "you just won't stop, will you? here's something you won't forget."

with that, i pulled my leg up and kneed him hard in the groin. he buckled onto the seat and let out a pained groan. i couldn't care less and grabbed cait's hand, grabbed the drinks that had probably been sitting there for a bit and stalked back to the table. the girls had been watching from their spot and they were grinning at me when i made it back.

"that was amazing, yn." i thanked them and we all sat back down but i wasn't happy anymore. i just wanted to go home.

cait could tell, "you wanna get out of here?" "please." so we stood up, and told the others that we were gonna head back. "just not feeling it anymore, sorry. you can have free range of the two sprites though." they were all happy then and started squabbling over who got the free drinks. me and cait went out to the car and drove home.

she had one hand on my knee and the other on the wheel, and slowly she slid it further up my leg. i was impatient and she was making me feel things so i grabbed her hand and placed it further towards my crotch and crossed my legs.

her hand was essentially stuck there. she wasn't complaining and had a smug look on her face. we finally got home and i couldn't open the door quick enough. once we were inside, cait kicked it closed and locked the door. she had me pressed up against the wall, hands above our heads.

"jump."

her voice had gone low and boy, was it hot. i followed and jumped up to wrap my legs around her waist. she pulled me back in for a kiss and somehow walked me to our bedroom.

"that guy couldn't do this, could he?"

i think it's safe to say that the guy definitely couldn't do what cait spent the rest of the night showing me.

[the-kr8tor]

Hello! How are you??? I'm sorry in advance, I'm still figuring out how tumblr works.

There's a post by @undobutton that talks about an au where Hobie is a street musician. I think something Christmas themed would be really cute if you're interested in writing your own version. Totally up to you!

<3

I couldn't find their original post, special thanks to @undobutton, street musician au is credited to them. Thank you for requesting, lovely! Have a happy holidays 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader (except for their jacket), cw food mentions, some awkward flirting, Lovestruck! Hobie, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

When Hobie volunteered for F.E.A.S.T he never thought he'd be freezing his balls off in the middle of a busy intersection. The Santa coat he's wearing doesn't help much with the biting cold, good thing they let him wear his leather jacket underneath the red fluffy coat.

To his dismay, the red bucket to his side has stayed half empty since his shift.

The only consolation to the cold is you. Like clockwork, you come sauntering out of the busy crowd during the rush hour, your smile a beacon of warmth from the chill. You don't know him nor he knows you, but you always come to him with a greeting, always bearing gifts of hot cocoa, soup or a pastry to warm his senses. It's not just the treats you give him but also the welcome conversation. It started off with a polite ‘hello’ and ‘thank you for doing this’ and then you exchanged names, before he knew it, you two were chatting away like old friends. Now you're not strangers anymore, there's a blooming friendship that could be more if you two manage to thaw out the cold awkwardness of conversing in a public space.

The snow nips at his fingertips as he strums the familiar Christmas tune for the umpteenth time on his well loved guitar since he volunteered last week. Hobie kept repeating to himself throughout the jingle ‘for the kids, I'm doin’ this for the kids’ he huffs, puffs of clouds escaping as a wave of pedestrians passes him by without donating.

As if you've sensed his emotions, you come walking out from the subway, your fluffy red coat almost matching Hobie's, and a stark contrast to the rushing crowd's greys and white. The people seem to part just for you, like the sea making way for you to cross. Or maybe that's what he's seeing as your straight face turns into a grin as you spot him in his usual place.

“Hi, Hobie” you're suddenly right in front of him, Hobie suddenly feels warmer. Peeking down at his bucket of donations, you wince. “Not a good day?”

He shakes himself awake. “Better now that you're here”

“Where in the world do you get your charm in this weather?” you feel warm, your hands are suddenly sweaty under your gloves.

“It just comes naturally.” He shrugs, his smirk turning you into mashed potato. “Nice jacket”

You laugh, a better sound than the loud honking of traffic he's been attacked with throughout his shift.

“Yeah, well it's almost Christmas so I gotta stay festive, you know” you lift your arms to the side a little bit awkwardly. After mentally facepalming yourself, you take your wallet out to take a crisp bill to put in the donation bucket.

“Thank you, F.E.A.S.T appreciates your donation” Hobie does his practice script, but for you there's more heart put into it.

“Also, I wanted to dress up like my new favourite person” you say a little quieter, bouncing on the balls of your feet nervously.

“Santa’s your favourite bloke?” Hobie looks like he's questioning your taste.

You blink before you let out the most glorious sound he's heard all day. “Yeah, Santa’s my favourite guy” you say sarcastically, “I mean just look at him and his magnificent white beard” laughing, Hobie’s eyes widened.

You're flirting with him, shit, he thought, wanting to punch himself for his stupid reply. Composing himself with a clear of his throat, hiding it behind a chuckle, Hobie puts his charisma to work.

“Well, Your new favourite bloke has a present for you”

“What is it?” Your face hurts from smiling too much, yet it doesn't waver.

“As our biggest benefactor, you get to spend a day with Santa himself at Feast” Maybe that wasn't his best work, but can you blame him when you're looking at him like a child during Christmas morning? He puts all the blame on the cold for making his brain all foggy.

“Only if you want to that is” Hobie tries to save himself the embarrassment.

His awkward way of asking you out made you all the more fancy him, you're a goner. “I would love to, Hobie” you're sweating under all your layers.

He feels like his chest was caving in and your answer was the only thing that could hold it up. Hobie beams, a little too excited to exchange numbers with you.

In truth, you know there isn't some prize for the biggest donation, you weren't even close to the largest benefactor. Maybe that'll be a nice ice breaker for you when you finally go on a date with Santa.

[carnatus89]

DnB December prompts @alterdnbweek

Day 22: Royalty AU, Loyal knight

This one is probably my favourite and the last one I made. Alongside drawings :D

Most knew him as the Golden Knight. It started with his looks, radiant smile, sun-kissed skin and golden curly locks that looked like molten gold. He has heard it all, from whispered adoration to outright shouting it in his face as he passed. He doesn’t really care, he never cared about his looks in the first place, he just was lucky in that regard.

The title really stuck when his name came with the position of his job. As the personal guard of the prince of the Antarctic Empire, next on the line to become the king, he faced difficulties in order to protect the young prince. He was pitied, no one wanted to deal with the troublemaker that was the pink-haired man, no one could try to reign his thirst for adventure and escapades. He was the Golden Knight, because he was the only one who could keep up with the prince and keep him safe.

It makes him laugh.

What Golden Boy? A street rat who was picked from the lowest a human could get. Who had to fight tooth and nail for a bite of food, in order to survive to fight the next day. One who had the brand of his previous master branded on his back, a smiley face that he adopted as his own mark when he tore out that bastard's neck with his own teeth. Ah, what a good, sweet young man, who no one suspects that each scar on his body was erased with the most obscure and taboo magic known in the realms. If they knew, his head would be on a pike, his body paraded and his name dragged to the mud. He’s not some perfect little soldier, he’s a murderer, previously a slave, a necromancer. He’s nothing but the monster parents warn their children at night.

And the prince? The one people think of as spoiled rotten, all his deeds forgotten, rude and condescending? What a joke.

That man is the only one who deserves his loyalty, his sword and shield, his protection. Even if he doesn’t need it.

That prince is the only one he can’t defeat.

The future king is a powerful man, both in political power and raw strength. He doesn’t talk much, less to other royals and nobles. Of course those pompous people think of him as rude when he just leaves a conversation when he loses interest. He works on his physical power, training day and night, just to be the best warrior there is. The prince told him one day that he wishes to be able to just run and fight for his survival, to fight and fight until his final breath. To be able to bathe in the glory and blood of his enemies, to embrace the violence that courses through his veins. To lose himself in the blood.

He laughed that time. To think he was serving a lunatic.

But he respected his strength, his words weren’t empty, he never made a proclamation or a promise that he knew he couldn’t comply with. In his world, promises were everything, so knowing this man would always say his truth, even when it isn’t pretty, was refreshing.

He knew that when he asked to join him as his personal guard after who knows how many times they encountered each other and fought, he knew he could say no. He wasn’t sacked, he didn’t owe him anything, he could walk away a free man and no one would hunt him down for it. But he said yes.

That was his downfall.

Despite his reputation, the young prince was handsome, his face chiseled and sharp, his long pink hair like the fine silk he wears to balls, and his muscled body built from rigorous training. His warm voice, like a campfire on a cold winter. His blood red eyes which electrify him everytime he looks at him. The way his body moves in a display of power each time they fought, his sword an extension of his arm, much like Dream’s sword was his own. Maybe that was also part of the reason he said yes, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

He thought he would suffer. The prince wouldn’t hurt him physically, that he promised, but he knew how people can twist his words, to omit their intentions. And he did suffer, though now he knows it wasn’t the prince’s intention. The way his heart ached like it was a festering wound was new to him, but he had survived worse. He knew his rank, his station. He could never be anything more than the Golden Knight to the prince.

But then, their fights changed. They never stopped fighting, they both enjoyed it, so even though they weren’t runaway prince and thief anymore, they still fought. They changed locations, clothes and titles, but they fought all the same. It stayed the same, until one day the prince just, stopped.

He sat on the ground, never caring about his prince image, and gestured for Dream to sit next to him. He did, and they talked. It felt different this time though, when they talked in hushed tones, usually to trash talk some noble, it was all jokes and jabs, but they maintained their ranks. There was distance on their speech, on their body language. This time, the prince leaned on his space, his hair touching his face. He looked tired, but with a glint in his eyes that showed determination, usually when he was braving a fierce opponent.

He always had that glint when he looked at him. So he didn’t look surprised. It did surprise him the sudden warmth in his lips.

He regrets punching him. In his defense, he was surprised.

In public, they stayed with the same formality and distance as before. They would refer each other as prince and knight, they would perform the duties expected of them, and they would stay together, just out of reach.

The prince’s escapades became their dates, not only for the prince to indulge in his most violent ways. Instead of the man searching for trouble to punch or slice, they would go on the cover on the night to some no name place to enjoy themself. It was fun, it was everything Dream could imagine a relationship would be like and more. The passion, the warmth, everything he lacked in his previous life he had now with the only man he could ever think to give his freedom for.

So he didn’t trust it.

He knew royals, he knew how fickle their interest may be. How could the prince give all his power and status for a lowly life like him? No one but the prince knew of his background, he held all the power in his life now. He gave it willingly, but he was still afraid of what he would do when he became bored, when this development would fade away. He knew he would keep his rank, but he didn’t think his heart would recover when this was all over.

And then, the prince gave him a rose.

It was a glass rose, a really fragile thing that he put in his hair. The coloured glass played with the light, making it shine like it was light itself. It was beautiful.

“I wanted something to match your eyes. I’ll keep looking.”

He kept a hidden room in his room for all the next gifts he got. From glass statues to emeralds, to rubies, to gold, he never saw as many precious gems and valuable objects in his life. And it was all his. Only the people who are close to the prince know that he shows his love through gifts. All his family own an emerald earpiece which signals to all that they belong to one another. Both king and queen have golden collars made by the prince. Both his younger brothers have tiny bracelets of jewels that the future king arranged. His personal horse has a braid made with red silk and a lock of his own pink hair.

The ring was a simple but beautiful thing, small enough to hide under his armour, to attach to rope and wear on his neck, to slide on his finger whenever he wanted. The gold shines as if made of sunlight, the surface smooth when he passes his finger. It has just one jewel, the most shiny emerald he has ever seen before. When he turns it around in his hand and looks in the mirror, he can see the same shade of green in his own eyes. It’s like his own eyes where the jewel, staring at him from this artifact that the prince, with a satisfied smile, gave him.

“Finally found the one.”

It was real. That’s why he had to do it.

The prince has a name, but he doesn’t like it. It’s a name for a prince, a future king, a monarch. He didn’t like it, he wanted another name, something that was his. Dream understood, ‘Dream’ wasn’t the name his mother gave him, it was the name he earned on the streets. It was actually ‘Dreamon’, he just fashioned it, it was his to modify after all. So the prince chose a name, one that screamed his enemies every time he showed up.

The Blade never dies.

That’s why he had to do it.

Blade was more than his prince. His loyalty was more than simple duty, it was an act of love. He loved him, and he indulged in his aspirations to fight, even if he knew that it would be his downfall in the end, the thing that would ruin them both. He loved him as fiercely as Blade loved to fight, so he would follow. Always. Maybe this makes him selfish, maybe he doesn’t have the right to choose.

The Blade never dies. So this time, Dream would make sure to make it so.

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

He doesn’t ask for many things. Mostly because he knows the things he really wants can’t be granted. He doesn’t hate his parents because of it, he understands. But he hates it nonetheless.

They can’t give him permission to fight everything he wants in sight, they are royals. What would the other nobles think? What would the populace think? He doesn’t care, but his family does. And above all else, he loves his family. He can’t go because he loves them, so he would just sneak when he can. Most think it is just to loiter around, which is fine by him. He’s fine with his actual reason to stay hidden, he doesn’t care what others think, he’s his own person. As long as they despise him for it, not his family, it is fine by him.

His escapes were a way out, to breathe, to stretch, to be. It was an act of desperation, so he didn't really have a plan. Just a cloak with a hood big enough to cover his hair, the planiest clothes he owned and his trusted sword with bandages wrapped around the hilt to hide the eye-catching decorations, though it wasn't a really good job to hide it. They couldn't make him out as the prince, but as some eager noble, with a fat purse and even fatter ramson.

That’s how he met him. A smiley mask, a black cloak and a sword aiming for his guts.

He was dangerous, he was quick and he was beautiful. He was everything Blade asked for. He was his match, he didn’t back down, he fought like that was all he had done in his life, and Blade became addicted to it. He wanted more, the violence that rose with him everytime he woke up screamed for the man, and he was always willing to indulge in his primal instincts.

He followed every trace he left behind when in the castle, and then followed him physically on the streets. Everytime he escaped the castle, he came to the streets to search for him, and fight him. The man always escaped, and Blade always ended wanting for more. He didn’t care who that man was, he wanted him. To fight, to see and touch. It became like an addiction that threatened to kill him. He embraced it, he loved the taste of the poison.

One night they fought and talked between each clash of their blades, and the man realized he just wanted to fight, not get revenge. So they met often after, to fight, laugh and fight some more. It became their thing, and they became friends in turn. So much that Blade didn’t crave to fight him anymore, he had it already. He wanted to see his face, to laugh at him, with him. He wanted to pet his golden hair, wanted to grab him by his tiny waist. He wanted to run his hands over his perfect body, kiss the man until both could forget the whole world. He wanted him at his side. He wanted so many things.

And this time he could ask for it.

He was elated when Dream said yes. He was scared that he would leave him, that Blade would scare him away. He promised that he will always be protected and cared for. That his rank and job would always be his as long as Blade was there. That he would have the freedom to walk away if he chose, and no one would hurt him. Dream accepted, so now it was time to ask his father.

He doesn’t ask for much, so when he asked for Dream to be his personal guard, he said yes almost immediately.

The Golden Knight and the Troublemaker Prince. Sounds like a cheesy novel. But that was his actual life. He had now a partner in crime, one who knew of his secrets and would indulge him. They escaped the palace to fight other bandits, slavers, whatever. The thrill of the fight was different now with someone on his side. It didn’t subside, but it now included Dream. They were now a pair, and the moment Blade had a taste of him, he couldn't live without it anymore. His addiction became critical, and when Dream reciprocated his feelings, he felt like he was a new man.

He needed him at his side, his golden hair and green eyes were everything he would dream. He went mad looking for something that could even match that color. The gold band needed to be exactly as warm and shiny as his hair. The gem was an expensive gem, but he didn’t bat an eye at the price when the jewel stared back at him. ‘The eye of Ender’ the supplier said was its name. It was perfect.

He knew Dream didn’t trust his devotion, he thought of himself less than his title. That’s why he gave him the ring. They couldn’t marry, not without repercussions, but it was a promise. No matter what, they would always be together.

He didn’t think he would break that promise.

He never thought what it would be like to die. ‘Blade never dies’ they say. But he was mortal, and a sword piercing his chest was probably a bit too much, even for him. He became reckless, and paid the price. He was mostly fine with the outcome, he kinda searched for it in the first place since his first escapades, trying to escape the boring mundane life of the prince. But then he heard the cry of Dream, and knew that he made a mistake.

He would be leaving Dream behind, and that wouldn’t do. Blade needed him, and the man needed him back. He couldn’t leave like this. It wasn’t worth the thrill of violence.

He felt his hands on his face. Usually they were cold, but now it was the only warmth he felt, the only place he was trying to cling to life. His eyes could see his blurry figure, the only two things he could disting was his molten gold hair and his magical green eyes. He was crying, and Blade hated himself for being the reason for it.

He felt a tug on his chest, trying to pull him down. But Dream held on.

And held on.

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

His hands were shaking. They were sticky with blood and tears, a mix of both Blade’s and his. His heart was racing, like a caged bird on a box. He cradled his lover’s head in his hands, bringing him onto his lap and whispering comforts. For him or himself, he didn’t know.

He didn’t know if it would work, but he had to try. He loved him, he couldn’t let him leave, for he was a selfish man.

He was no Golden Knight.

He remembers the spell that his mother teached him before she disappeared. The magic was forbidden because of its secondary effects, she said that it made the life around it to die, made souls crumble to ash and blood, and made the humans affected by it a husk of their former self. That's what the people said, his mother showed him otherwise.

“Flesh would reattach itself, wounds opening on another body. Disease would cure itself while another rots from the inside. But for the soul to remain, it needs another as an example. To attach someone's souls to your own, you must love them very much.”

He loves him. He doesn't care what that means. He loves him.

So he had to do it. He had to use his power, even if he thought he would never have to use it again. Even if he condemns his soul for all eternity.

He feels his heart spasms for a second, bringing his lover closer to his chest while the magic works its course. The blood circle shines and he feels an energy on the center of his body festering and emerging like a living thing, trying to rip through him like he’s but a cocoon. Even with his eyes closed, he can see through his eyelids light, green and red pulsating and combining until a mix of both colors remain, and then fade away. His chest hurts, his teeth hurts, his arms hurt. He can taste blood on his tongue. But he doesn't let go.

Until a gasp sounds, and Blade rises.

Dream helps him to sit down. The prince coughs blood and some black liquid that builds on his throat and eyes, his tears mixed with the inky substance. He cleans it gently with his hands, though they're smeared with blood, so he just makes a bigger mess. Both of them are a mess of blood and black.

But they're alive. It worked.

“Blade.” He can't help his soft tone, to see his lover alive when he saw the light leave his eyes, when he saw him take his last breath. When he stops coughing he hugs him, bringing his head on his shoulder, to be able to feel his rising chest and his warmth. To feel him alive again. He can't help the tears on his eyes.

His lover hugs him back, kissing his neck, his breath raggedy. His arms circle his waist, locked into place and preventing any of them from getting away. He doesn't mind, even if it hurts a little. They're here, they're both alive. They're both fine.

But that was a lie.

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

“I had to do it.”

Once they both catched their breath, they make a list of priorities. First, they needed a safe place to stay for the night, one where reinforcements from the bandits that killed Blade wouldn't search. They were in the forest, on their former base, and when the prince fell, Dream ignored the ones who escaped in favor of tending to his lover. So they traveled at a quick pace, finding a hunter’s house that was left since it wasn't the season right now. They didn't care about breaking the door to get inside, searching for salves and bandages, because, well. They both were still bleeding.

That was the second, patch themselves up. Dream worked quickly, bandaging his wounds, which were pretty light. He stole a quick look to Blade and saw that he was doing the same, although he was fumbling with the bandages, coming dirty with black blood. Once he finished with his own wounds he made his way to his prince’s side to attend him. And, well.

Necromancy as a practice was forbidden because of misconceptions, but it was true that a person that dies, doesn't come back the same. His blood was red when the light hit it just right, but it was such a deep color it may as well be darkness itself. Blade already had pretty pale skin, but now it was almost sickly, just a tint of color enough to not mistake as a walking corpse. His crimson eyes were now like a red moon, its light colouring even the white with red blood, a ring of black the only thing that remains of his pupil. He was otherworldly, another, and so bewitchingly beautiful. Like the first time he saw him on that fateful night.

He picked the fresh bandages and lifted his lover's shirt to bandage the wound that killed him.

It was bleeding sluggishly, the wound almost closed on its own. An angry red marked the fair skin, ramifications like a spiderweb reaching across his entire chest like a brand. It was cold at the touch, a contrast with the warm skin underneath. He cleaned as well as he could the wound and wrapped it up. And once he finished, he looked at his silent prince.

He was looking above him, not quite the ceiling. His eyes looked glassy, like he was looking at nothing, but at the same time his eyes were moving like he was trying to catch something fast. Like they weren't alone.

“Blade? Love?” He takes his hand, and the prince focuses on him. He looks… lost, confused, but he can see the happiness in his eyes when he looks at him. He's sure his love can see the same in his eyes.

“Dream.” He takes his face in his hand, stroking his cheek lovingly. The guard leans on the touch and hums, caressing his hand with his thumb. Now that all the earlier ordeal is over, they can breathe.

And reality comes down.

“I had to do it.”

Blade looks at him. He feels the warmth in his hands, the intensity in his stare, the rise in his chest. He knows that it was worth it, even if both of them are now damned for it. It's better than the alternative, better than Blade hating him.

“You were dead. I had to do it.”

“I know.”

“Now we are… one. Our soul is one, if I die you die with me. “

“I know.” Blade strokes his cheek, and smiles. Like they were talking about what they're going to do the next escapade. It was comforting, even if Dream didn't understand it.

“Aren't you… mad?”

“I was dead, you brought me back.”

“At the cost of your life.”

Blade laughs. “That sounds like a contradiction.”

Dream can't help his own laugh, but still, he feels a confused rage inside him.

“You know what I mean. You can't be a prince like this. Not anymore, you're a zombie now. They’ll want you dead, both of us.”

His mother disappeared when he was young. She was a necromancer, all his family were once upon a time. When people found out, she casted him aside in hopes of him surviving on his own, without a witch as a mother. Anything was better than that. It's funny, he now walks the same path as his mother, despite everything she did to prevent it. And he has dragged his love with him.

“I know. Thank you.”

He doesn't expect the words that come out of the ex-prince’s mouth, even less his lips on his own. He tastes blood, but he eagerly reciprocates, feeling his chest light as a feather. His hands cup his lover’s face to savour the moment, before they both need to part ways. He can feel the rough hands of the hair-pinked man on his hair, petting him.

“This is what we were both looking for.”

“What do you mean?” Dream can't really think right now, his mind too preoccupied in the relief of Blade not being disgusted by him. He knows of his magic, but he never used it against another person in his presence, much less against him. He still loves him, despite it.

“A way out.” His lover grins, his smile blinding. He can't help but match it with his own, prompting him to continue. “We are now wanted men. You're no longer a knight and I’m no longer a prince. We're just us. Together.”

“But… What about your family?”

“Even if they think of me dead, I know they still love me. And I still love them, they will be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

Blade puts his hands on his waist and brings him close, hugging him to his chest. He reciprocates, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

“We are free now. Even if we're hunted and damned, we are free.”

Dream knew what it was like to fight to survive another day. So this development wasn't really something foreign to him, it was actually what he expected to happen someday, no matter what his prince promised him, how hopeful the situation was. The trill came because now, he had a partner with him. No longer loyal knight and future king.

Just Dream and Blade.

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

Notes that didn't fit in the story one way or another:

All his family knew that Blade was basically courting his knight, they were fine with that. If he wasn’t the oldest and the future king, they would be demanding a wedding right this instant, and their brothers would be fighting to the death to be chosen as best man. Is bittersweet, because now they think Dream was a traitor all along, deceiving the prince just to kill him and experiment on him.

When Blade started going out he was basically bullshiting his way out. He had a hood with his mouth covered up and thought that was all that was needed. He was pretty surprised when Dream recognized him on sight as at least a noble, and then the prince. Dream is kinda glad he found him before anyone else with more malice saw him. After that Dream made him a boar mask so people ignore all the rest of his features since the mask is the most alluring part, and made him cover his hair better.

Dream was basically running around stealing whatever he needed on the day, everyday. He gets uncomfortable having possessions since those are things that can be taken away. That includes people, since when he was a slave he had an adoptive older brother that got taken away later when he was sold. He has contacts, mostly people who can supply him with illegal things or weapons, but he didn’t really try to keep bonds until Blade, and that only because basically Blade forced him to.

The blood circle for resurrecting Blade is basically a ‘XD’ face.

Blade was born with the curse of The Blood, which made him want to fight constantly. This is now increased through the resurrection since he hears The Voices of Beyond now.

Dream and Blade are on the run, killing whoever finds them to keep the violence of Blade at bay and to stop people from talking about them. They’re also insanely cuddly since they can basically make out as much as they want. Meanwhile Blade’s family want Blade back, his body actually, since they think he’s basically a zombie. They want to bury him as a prince.

I never expected to make a Technoblade so down bad but it was really fun. Maybe I can properly write it as a short fanfic on ao3? Time will tell.

[tracybirds]

It's nearing the end of the year and I'm thrilled to have finished up my little Thunderbirds Reading Challenge yesterday! It's been a whirlwind year with major lows but also some cherished highs and I'm still finding my feet a bit but we're getting there <3 I'm looking forward to 2025 and getting to dive into this world that I love once more!

I want to chatter about my thoughts on each book so I'll do that under the cut <3

Also this is my second year of making prompts for myself and I do plan on doing it again next year, so let me know if you want to be tagged in a post for that.

On to the books!

---

Thunderbird One: A book with silver lettering on the spine

My pick for this was A Zoologist's Guide To The Galaxy by Arik Kershenbaum. This was a book a biology teacher friend had recommended to me and so when I spotted it at the library and saw the silver lettering, it felt like it was meant to be and I snagged it! And I'm so glad she did tell me to read this one - I had so much fun dipping into the concepts and ideas this book presented. It was a really interesting way to explore key biological principals in the context of evolution on an alien world.

My favourite chapters were related to movement and communication, but there were so many fascinating tidbits of information and incredible solutions that life on Earth has come up with, that is gave me a whole new appreciation for the variation present on our own world!

This book has gone on my wishlist to purchase and I think everyone with an interest in natural sciences should check it out :D

Thunderbird Two: A book featuring a musician

For this I chose the appropriately named The Instrumentalist by Harriet Constable. This caught my eye as a new release and it was the setting that interested me most. The focus was on Venice, in the time period when Antonio Vivaldi was active, and that setting has some nostalgia for me as my family owned a CD audio drama set in the same period and place, designed to introduce children to Vivaldi's music. Not only that, but I was fortunate enough to visit Venice this year and so the environment was fresh in my mind.

This novel is based on Anna Maria della Pieta who was an orphan and violinist taught by Vivaldi. I've thought about this book a lot since I've read it - it's beautiful and the depictions of how music can consume you is truly stunning, but it's not a beautiful book, it's brutal and dark and doesn't shy away from the struggle that women in the time and place in which it's set. More than music, I think this book covered the soaring heights and despicable depths of what humanity can be, and demonstrates how easily one could become trapped by their circumstances.

As an aside, I did also cry when I read the author's acknowledgements at the end, they were absolutely stunning and I read them out loud to my friend and wow they hit home. I really enjoyed this one too <3

Thunderbird Three: A book you had to read in high school

I knew The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien would be the book I chose as soon as I wrote the prompt. I first read this book in my final year of high school as part of a study on short stories, and it was one of my first real exposures to the Vietnam War. I knew the bare bones of the conflict secondhand from friends who were studying history, I'd heard it mentioned a dozen times in TV and books, but in NZ when it came to military history we spent a lot more time discussing the events of Gallipoli and the ANZACs in WWI and of course the Holocaust in WWII (We can have a discussion another day about why we didn't even learn about the New Zealand Wars but whatever). So when I read it for the first time, I was struck by the raw brutality of it all, and it made a deep impact on me.

Now that I'm older, more than a decade on, I wanted to revisit it.

I know a lot of people who would want to analyse this book with a political framework, and I don't think it's wrong to do so, but I do think that if you do that you miss what this book is. The non-linear nature, the ruminating and revisions inherent in every story told, the oscillation between being blase and being horrifically scared and being alight with a monstrous rage and so on and so on and so on. It's a confronting novel and the way it meanders and feels so pointless at times was something I really struggled with this time around.

But then it's a story about drafted soldiers, trapped in a war they didn't choose and couldn't escape. What else could it have been?

Thunderbird Four: A book exploring somewhere new

The Apollo Missions: In the Astronaut's Own Words by Rod Pyle was not what I expected my pick to be. Even after I read it, I didn't immediately realise how well this fit the prompt. It's such a cool little nonfiction book, taking the transcripts of key points during each of the Apollo missions and pairing the astronauts' awe and wonder (and humour!) with photos from each of the missions was such a cool way to learn more about the goals, the successes and the failures faced in exploring the lunar surface for the first time.

It's such an incredible project that I still can't believe NASA achieved and I love learning more about it <3

(And from a Thunderbirds perspective... it was very fun to see some familiar names cropping up too!)

Thunderbird Five: A book featuring a non-organic lifeform

I won't lie, I 100% thought I was going to reread Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir for this one. But then, a book that had been sitting on my shelf for two years found its way into my suitcase when I went to Italy, and to my surprise it featured a non-organic lifeform! Kind of. I'm still not really sure what exactly the Fremda were...

I don't remember very much of this book to be honest. While the premise was interesting, I found the story got pretty bogged down fairly quickly and although it was fine and I enjoyed it enough to finish, I knew I wouldn't be continuing on with the series.

They can't all be winners I suppose ahaha

Anyway, that's my Thunderbirds Reading Challenge for 2024 all wrapped up! Hope you enjoyed a little foray into something different and once again let me know if you want to be tagged when I make the 2025 prompts <3

[aurora-daily]

AURORA: "People Deserve Complicated Music"

AURORA's interview for Junkee by Ky Stewart (September 11th, 2024)

AURORA is a once-in-a-generation artist. Unrestrained by genre, her music always feels just outside our grasp. So, as might expect, our conversation was insightful, inquisitive, and filled with childlike wonder and joy.

I was scrolling through Tumblr the first time I heard an AURORA song. It was 2015, a year after she’d released her first album All My Demons Greeting Me as a Friend. The post was a clip from her music video for ‘Murder Song (5,4,3,2,1)’. It was dark and tender. I was captivated by how expressive she was. Just 18 years old, she already knew just the right spot to jab you and reach your soul.

So I jumped down the AURORA rabbit hole. I quickly fell in love with that album, discovering fan favourites like ‘Running With The Wolves’ and ‘Runaway’. She was truly a Tumblr darling and, as it turns out, had absolutely no idea that so many of us were posting her lyrics on random edgy backgrounds. “Oh my god, that's so sweet,” AURORA tells me. “I didn't know that. That's insane. I had no idea. That's really sweet, because I feel like the Tumblr community were always my kind of people. That's really nice. I'm gonna try to find some of those posts now.” (Unfortunately, most of Tumblr has been killed off but there’s still some dedicated AURORA fan pages kicking around on there. I hope she found them.)

A lot of us from Tumblr grew up with AURORA’s music. Her albums have been part of how I made sense of the world around me at various stages of my life. Her newest album What Happened To The Heart? is no different. At a time of incredible turbulence, I often find myself asking where our collective empathy has gone. Or if we ever had it in the first place. How can we watch other people suffering and do nothing about it? These questions are AURORA’s inspiration. “There's always quite a lot behind my albums and I think a lot about the world when I write,” AURORA says. “I try to think about what I feel is the purpose of my music, and what I feel the world deserves to hear. I felt it was time for a question, especially the question, what happened to the heart? I was thinking about it a lot, and I realised that I found this question to be very interesting and very important. I think I found the answer.” 

For AURORA, the answer lies in how society has been stripped of compassion. “I'm nervous about a lot of the problems in the world today [and] the general unfairness in how our resources are divided upon the people,” she says. “The general unfairness that some people are given a chance in this life and some people aren't, and how the world just lets that happen. We haven't figured out a way to lift each other up more because people like to be comfortable, which I understand. It's hard to give away our comfort. To try to lift up someone we haven't even met yet is a hard thing for humans to do.” 

She adds, “I think we can actually feel that something is a bit off with life on Earth. Because we are very disconnected and we have closed up on that spiritual side of being human. And it kind of worries me that I feel something is a bit hollow inside of us, and that's why I answer the question, what happened to the heart? Because something is a bit messed up with how we live now.”

What I’ve always appreciated about AURORA, beyond her ability to make ethereal music, is how politically vocal she is. AURORA’s music has always been rooted in people, in their stories, and in how they feel. She cares deeply about people’s pain and uses her music to fight back — or at the very least, help people feel heard. Recently, she dedicated her protest song ‘The Seed’ from her 2019 album A Different Kind Of Human (Step II) to “all the children of Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Yemen, and Syria”.

“There are so many people in the world now that listen more to people they look up to, rather than experts on the matters of the world,” AURORA says. “A lot of [these] people are idiots and they say so many strange things and lead people the wrong way, like Trump… It’s chaotic when famous people have opinions that people follow so blindly without taking the time to actually measure your words or find out where they come from. It really scares me. [But] if people look up to me, I'm going to do as much as I can to say things they deserve. I think music really helps me do that, because I don't have to be too blunt, I don't have to be too harsh, I don't have to speak about things in the world in the same way most people do. We like to gather people around a common enemy, or to divide people with fear and then rile them up. I think it's so cool to rile people up with something that is, in its roots, fuelled by love.”

In preparation for the interview, I watched AURORA’s old music videos — the ones she made before the world fell in love with her. The bio said “Aurora Aksnes is a 18-year-old girl from Bergen, Norway. She strives to write music that can inspire people, through idiosyncratic tales of struggle, love, and all that lies in between.” Ten years later and she’s still doing exactly that. To AURORA, music is a language we all speak so why wouldn’t you use it to try to help others? “I wanted [the album] to be a mirror,” she says. “To do a soft beginning, because the first song is very spiritual, and numb [where] you ignore the thing screaming inside of you to be seen. Then the album goes quite dark because we ignore our roots. It's in our nature to be caring and kind. We do so much for the people we love and it's so pure. So we know that we're capable of it. But when we ignore this nature, we grow bitter and sour and broken.”

What Happened To The Heart? is as enigmatic as AURORA is. The album opens with the delicate ‘Echo Of My Shadow’, then we slam into dance-pop songs like ‘Your Blood’ and ‘Do You Feel’ or the techno club offering ‘Starvation’. Songs to get your body moving and your heart pumping. But there’s also folk and soft-rock. No matter the genre, her voice pierces through you. This concoction of sounds makes perfect sense to AURORA. For her, the sound of a song is less important than its essence. “I don't really think much when I produce,” she says. “I just feel and I just do, because I don't really have any rules when I make the skin around the soul of my songs, as long as the soul of the song feels right, it can wear whatever clothes it wants. It will still be okay, which is a comforting thing, because it helps you to not be a perfectionist. That steals the joy of creating from yourself, which is easy to do in this world.”

AURORA’s eclectic sound makes sense when you consider her influences. “I grew up with a lot of Leonard Cohen, Joan Baez, and Bob Dylan,” she says. “Also grew up with Enya. She was my biggest inspiration when I started making music. I just realised the healing power of voices and how much I can do. ‘Runaway’, which is one of my biggest songs now, is just the voice. The whole song is just accompanied by my own voice, trying to become choirs around my leading vocals, so that's been a very important part of my production journey. I'm very into Cohen, his way of telling stories in music, which I've obviously been very inspired by, especially in the beginning with songs like ‘Little Boy In The Grass’ and ‘Murder Song’, which are very [big] storytelling songs. And Bob Dylan taught me that I could be political and say things about the world in a nice way or in a funny way or in a hard way, depending on what you want. So these people all taught me very important messages. [When] I grew up, I learned about heavy metal and the Chemical Brothers. I think my idea of a perfect song is a mix with the Chemical Brothers, weird sounds like Enya and a bit of metal and folk. That's kind of the essence of what I find beautiful.”

AURORA is deeply connected to the environment. She’s been a strong advocate for environmental rights in Norway and trying to help the global fight to stop the ever increasing impacts of climate change. All of this is evident when I ask if she’s excited to return to Australia for an upcoming tour. “Oh, honestly, I'm so excited,” she says. “I think Australia is one of my favourite places to tour. It's so beautiful. It has the adventurous, grandness, and largeness that I feel when I'm in America, but you're not like America at all. So it's large and adventurous, which is exciting when you're from Norway. But it's still so friendly, and I'm so in tune with a lot of the politics. I'm not so familiar with the current situation, but I like what you did with the gun laws and to prevent massive shootings. And the Indigenous peoples, I feel a lot of admiration for, and there’s a certain charge in the land in Australia that I cannot explain. It feels very spiritual there, and the nature feels like home. I know it's so different from home, that I feel so curious and excited, but it's still so like home that I feel safe and I understand what's going on. I don't know, I love Australia. I love being there. [The] people are so pretty as well. And the bugs. I love bugs. You have all the scary ones there, and it's so fun. I really am excited to be back. I hate that it's only like every second year. I wish I could come every year.”

It’s such a joy to experience an artist like AURORA. Her music is charged with so much life and energy. You find something new every time you listen to her songs. Something she’s tucked away in the corner for you to find. She makes music that forces you to stop and think about what’s being offered to you. And that’s exactly how she wants it. 

“I like making complicated albums because I have listeners who deserve complicated music,” AURORA says. “We're being served a lot of uncomplicated stuff, which can also be good, but if that's the only thing we get, I don't think it's good for our brains. People are very clever, and I think it's important to not underestimate them.” 

[qqueenofhades]

What are some of your other favourite medieval misconceptions? Everyone only ever wore shades of brown?

Other "favorite" medieval misconceptions, "favorite" here having the meaning of "cause my eye to start twitching uncontrollably and a red haze to descend" include:

Everyone in the Middle Ages was always dirty, miserable, and sad

Peasants worked all the time and were constantly on the verge of starving to death (bonus points if "all medieval people were peasants")

Everything was violent, bloody, and "barbaric"

People could expect to get gruesomely dismembered at all times and for any reason

Politics was exactly like Game of Thrones/Game of Thrones is an Accurate Representation of the Medieval World/pretty much anything whatsoever citing Game of Thrones as historical text

Everyone in medieval Europe was white, straight, cisgender, and Christian

Disabled people were ignored/destroyed/"put into asylums" (because the medieval era is exactly like Victorian England!) and/or had no recognition in their community and/or were just left to die

Queer people did not exist/were always persecuted/had no opportunities or framework to live/identify like "modern" people

"Medieval history" only refers to Europe and/or Europeans

Pretty much anything to do with the Vikings, whether in far right/white supremacy or Oooh The Vikings Were So Liberal

The all-powerful Catholic church completely controlled everyone's minds and everyone blindly obeyed them in all things until suddenly, one day the Renaissance happened! Yay!

The Renaissance suddenly gave women rights!

The Enlightenment suddenly gave women rights!

[Fill in the blank] suddenly gave women rights!

Evil historians are hiding the real truth of [insert marginalized group here] from you

The only thing medieval people cared about was religion and they were all religious zealots

Conversely: people were always desperately trying to break free from the church but they were constantly stopped from doing so because the church was, again, all-powerful

Women were silent, illiterate, uneducated, oppressed, and only ever expected to serve their husband/have endless babies/keep the house clean (which somehow coexists in their minds with "everything was dirty all the time")

Women always died in childbirth

Women did not have jobs, education, or any recognition in society

Women could never be rulers, warriors, or any other "male" job

Women could constantly expect to be raped and this was a normal and natural part of medieval society (bonus points if invoked to defend some modern "medieval" media as "historically accurate")

Women were constantly viewed as witches in the premodern era

Anything a woman did that was "unusual" would get her accused (and often killed) for witchcraft

There were no cosmetics, beauty standards, personal hygiene, etc., so people never combed their hair, dressed nicely, used makeup, washed, etc etc

Medieval people/society had no use for artists/art, literature, books, classics, or other high culture, because that was all instantly forgotten when Rome fell and nobody found it again until the Renaissance

Medieval people all died when they were thirty

Medieval people never traveled more than 10 miles from home

Medieval people never questioned their society/their place in the world/anything else; they just accepted their lot in life without complaint

Things have been a perfect straight line of progress ever since and modernity is "better"

Do I have some things to get off my chest here?

Maybe

You can't prove it

Shh

[starlostastronaut]

DAY 22 | PICTURE FRAMES

PAIRING: kim seungmin x reader

GENRE: fluff, non idol au

WC: 1.06k

CW: photographer!seungmin, model!reader, reader reffered to as girlfriend and queen, implied fem clothing for reader, attempt at humour? (kinda? idk)

PROMPT: he asks you to be his model

my last two braincells wrote this at 1am, so thats about all the explanation you'll get for this... thing. enjoy reading <3

title from paper rings - taylor swift

general masterlist here

<< previous | mctc masterlist | next >>

Immediately after entering the studio, you were swarmed by a group of stylists and makeup artists. Despite being in the industry for a few years now, this was something you were still getting used to. You weren’t a risk-loving person, quite the opposite, actually. You liked to have everything planned out beforehand and to know where you were going and what you were going to be doing. You liked to be prepared. You liked control. Nonetheless, photoshoots were not that kind of thing. It usually depended on who you were working with, but more often than not, you weren’t told what you were going to shoot. The company would provide a short questionnaire about things you were and weren’t comfortable with, but they barely told you the theme. And even though you loved being a model, this part of the job was not your favourite.

And Kim Seungmin was the worst of them. He was a freelance photographer, a highly demanded one, but he often set aside the time to do some photoshoots of his own to update his portfolio and Instagram. And he liked to rope his friends into modeling for him. Having met him all the way back in high school and being a professional model on top of being his girlfriend, no wonder you were on top of his list. Unfortunately for you, he liked to keep his concepts a secret, refusing to tell you anything except the time and location. For reasons unknown to you, you always said yes, though. Maybe it was the pleading puppy eyes he mastered over the years, or because you knew he would never make you do anything you were truly uncomfortable with. And so he kept asking, and you kept agreeing.

And that was how you found yourself in a makeup chair in front of a not very stable table with a mirror placed on top of it. It certainly wasn't the best makeup station you saw, but on the other hand, you were in an abandoned warehouse that supposedly inspired Seungmin, so it could have been worse. At least three stylists were currently occupied by your hairstyle for the shoot, while others argued about the shade of your eyeshadow. You sighed and relaxed in the chair. This was going to take some time. 

Three braids later, some comotion could be heard by the entrance. When you turned your head to the source, you saw Jeongin walking towards the makeup station, looking excited. You should have guessed he would be here. Besides you, Jeongin was Seungmin's favourite model. And he especially liked photographing you two together, claiming the visuals were out of this world.

You greeted Jeongin politely when he sat down. Despite him being Seungmin's best friend, you never hung out much with him, aside from photoshoots. You tried to make small talk with him as the stylists were getting both of you ready, but it was so awkward that you were glad when the makeup artists told you to be quiet so as not to mess up the makeup.

Seungmin arrived soon after. He came by the station to greet you and Jeongin. “Any guesses on the concept yet? This one is pretty obvious,” he smirked, tilting his head to Jeongin, who was now dressed in a loose white shirt and tight pants, with knee-high boots ready. You shook your head. Well, you had your ideas but didn't want to say them out loud in front of Seungmin. He made it a game to let you guess the themes for photoshoots, rewarding you with a kiss whenever you guessed right. More often than not, you didn't, though, and he would mock you for it (with love, of course). So you started to refuse to tell him, making him pout about ruining the game. It was an endless back-and-forth, but that was just how the two of you worked. Love disguised as bickering and teasing.

Half an hour later, when you were in your costumes, the concept finally became clear. Faeries, specifically a faerie queen and a king. While you and Jeongin were getting dressed, Seungmin and the rest of the crew created a scene that looked like something out of a dark fairytale. The old warehouse was decorated with lights, sheer fabric, flowers, and all the typical faerie items, which strongly contrasted with the ruins around you. Someone even made a half-broken throne, and after the first few poses, it was explained to you that you and Jeongin represented the faerie conquerors after their victory, claiming the throne of the land they left destroyed. The concept was a complex story that made your head hurt a little bit trying to fully understand the vision, but that was normal for Seungmin. You let it go and focused on being the best dark queen you could be.

After the shoot, Seungmin asked you to stay for a little bit. You sat down next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder and leaning into his side. Seungmin shoved the camera in front of you. “You looked beautiful,” he said, showing you the first couple of pictures. “My scary queen.” Looking at the pictures, you had to agree with him. You looked majestic, with the background and your costume creating this mysterious and dangerous aura around you. You went over the rest of the pictures with him, smiling when he paused to point out a detail, excitedly telling you how you captured his vision perfectly.

“I knew what I was doing when I started dating a model,” he mused, yelping in pain when you smacked his shoulder playfully. 

“Hey.” You put on an offended face. “So that's the only reason we're dating, Kim Seungmin?” You cocked your brow and watched him agree with a mischievous smirk on his face. "Well, you should know that I only agreed to date you because you take pretty pictures,” you replied, suppressing a smile. You needed to keep up your mock offense a bit longer.

“See, it's mutually beneficial,” Seungmin shrugged and swiftly avoided another hit to his arm. During that, he lost his balance and fell from the bench, his camera still in his hands. You couldn’t help but laugh as he went down, desperately trying to shield the camera from the impact. When he looked up from the ground with furrowed brows, you only laughed harder.

taglist: @stayconnecteed @saintriots @vivioluh @ivaneedssleep @jazziwritesthings @darkypooo @sleepyleeji

©starlostastronaut 2023 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[queerly-autistic]

My dad just messaged me going "seeing all this 'Save OFMD' stuff made me realise some things never change" and attached a load of pictures he'd dug up from fifteen years ago of me in my 'Save Ianto Jones' fan campaign era.

As much as it made me laugh, it also made me think about something that I've not talked about before: the fact that this is what introduced me to campaigning.

I was a very lost queer (undiagnosed autistic) kid, bullied and lonely and keenly aware that there were a lot of bad things happening in the world, but I had no idea how to begin to even try to change things, or even any awareness that there was anything I could do to change anything.

And then my favourite show killed off my favourite character, and I suddenly accidentally found myself swept up in the mobilisation (without even realising that that was what was happening) of the fan community around me. It's where I learned about the idea of campaigning as, y'know, a thing that I could do. It introduced me to the concept that I could actively try and do things to make a change I wanted to see in the world.

And now that's my actual literal real world adult job. This is what I do in my 9-to-5. Some of the skills I learned and developed at seventeen (and the lessons from the fuck-ups - oh boy there were many of those because I was seventeen) trying to get the BBC to un-dead my favourite bisexual welshman are skills that I now use every day to actually create change (such as writing persuasive emails to influence a specific target).

And I've also used them outside of the 9-5 in the smaller grassroots campaigns I've been involved with. For example, the skills I learned from a fan campaign when I was a teenager helped me play a small part in stopping the deportation of young autistic man, and potentially saved his life.

There's a HUGE amount of crossover/symbiosis between fan campaigns and 'real world' campaigning. A huge number of people involved in these fan campaigns are already involved in organising (or at the very least supporting/donating) for 'real world' issues. And, if they're not, then a fan campaign may well be their introduction to campaigning - a 'wow ok so I can actually do this' moment that inspires them to start pushing for change on other issues too.

It's fantastic if someone goes 'hey, I managed to call Netflix about picking up Our Flag Means Death, which has made me realise maybe I can also cope with picking up the phone to call my political representatives about [insert other issue here]' - and if the strategies they put in place to help them do the Netflix phone call also help them do the political phone calls as well, then that's absolutely brilliant.

The same with getting experience/confidence writing emails, or learning how to create and push a hashtag on social media, or realising the power of taking mass actions (like signing a petition). It even goes so far as inspiring people to follow up a fan campaign donation with an additional donation to a good cause, and helping direct them to some good charities/initiatives to donate to (because sometimes knowing which are the right ones to send your money too is very hard). These are all skills and experiences that can help build both confidence and understanding of how to get involved with campaigning for change, and these are absolutely transferrable to an infinite number of causes.

It's about people feeling empowered to take action: feeling like they can do it, that it's tangible to them as something they can do, and giving them the tools to do it. The endgame in real world advocacy and campaigning is getting stuff done: petitions signed, phone calls made, emails sent, donations collected, rallies attended.

And no one (outside of the internet moral purity police) cares if your journey getting there started with a fan campaign.