#literally everything about this performance is outrageous in the best possible way

[tatyana-dreaming]

tHe aMoUnT oF tiMeS JDF’s Ory mAkeS LittLe aiR kiSsEs iS oUtrAgEOuS

Juan Diego Flórez, Diana Damrau, and Susanne Resmark in Le Comte Ory (Met 2011)

[hellsbellschime]

I always love your takes on Dany because I think you explain her really well and was wondering what you think of this take by a Dany stan. It's got some uh... interesting ideas. Sorry too because it's quite long

The main difference in between Daenerys' political arc, and that of other "heroes" and their Houses is that Dany's is not currently a political arc relegated to fighting for Targaryen grievances and wins. Meanwhile, all other main House representatives in the narrative (Starks, Martells, Lannisters, Greyjoys, Tullys, Tyrells, Baratheons) are generally fighting precisely for nothing else but their own (and their Houses') grievances and wins.

That's where the double standards come in-

+ Daenerys is harshly and minutely judged for the quality of her every act, upon every single person in her narrative, bc her arc involves her aim to hold responsibility over the wellness of all these people.

+ Everyone else who are part of the Great Houses however are merely judged as per how they perform towards the wellness of their own Houses, because that's all they aim to perform for.

One girl dies in an act Dany is not directly involved in, particularly in intention, and the discussions are endless as per the repercussions and outrage of the occurrence. Because Daenerys took it upon herself to defend all these people, and this seems like a failure, particularlyin her POV: one girl with no other importance in the story and a few lines, among maybe millions. One girl. Hazea.

Robb Stark and his men, on the other hand, will kill, maim and rape thousands, or even tens of unnamed thousands, and there is no outrage; rarely discussed repercussions. Because Robb's political arc is not about protecting nameless people. Not about caring for the fate of one-liner non-noble characters. His arc is about the grievances of House Stark. About Ned. Readers judge him upon how close he gets to getting revenge on Tywin and Jofrrey, about how well/or bad he leads wars, not about what kind of leader he is to people, what kind of 'monster' he is to enemy commonfolk. The relevance of his eventual loss is not about the fate of his people, or enemy people, either. It's about his personal tragedy. It's about the tragedy of the remaining Starks.

There is outrage for Daenerys even killing her (leader) enemies. For everyone else, it's an undisputed aim.

Daenerys is even already judged for the possibility of a future where she will anything that concerns her actually being Daenerys of House Targaryen in Westeros. The possibility that any Westerosi people might die, while hundreds of thousands may have been dying so far at the hands of other Great Houses (directly and indirectly), and it's mostly irrelevant for them. But for Daenerys that judgement is everything. She is looked through the lense of "if she's a Queen she's meant to protect them, not kill them" tho she has not yet been granted that status, while those who have had the status of Kings, Queens and Lords of Westeros in the meantime have been responsible for the deaths of their own people all of this time.

No noble Northener really cares for a Jeyne Poole, least of all for a Hazea.

Daenerys alone is (harshly) judged as a leader of people, because that's her current actual arc. She is not Daenerys of House Targaryen currently, in a real sense, not really. Her family and House don't really matter where she is now, and to what she is doing.

Almost every other noble character (and I only say almost to partly exclude those not taking particular part in politics) is given the leniency of the tragic MC in a tragic family drama biopic. ALL THEY ARE IS X PERSON OF HOUSE Y. And in most cases nothing else matter. - end post

Well, obviously no hate to this person whoever they are and I don't necessarily think it's a bad take just because I disagree with it. I particularly DO agree on things like Jeyne Poole, and I think that is GRRM very intentionally trying to point out some huge hypocrisies with everyone in the story, even the "good guys", because it is incredibly unfair that no one will come to save Jeyne Poole while a fuckton of people will come to save "Arya Stark" just because they cared about Ned.

But where I don't agree is on that aspect in particular. Because it's not about winning or airing grievances for these great houses, a lot of their actions are largely driven by the fact that they simply care deeply about the other people who are involved in the war now or who have been hurt or killed in the past wars, and that is largely what is motivating many of them to do what they do. And in even more intense cases, they're going to war because they are in extremely immediate danger.

This is true for both villains and heroes, I mean Robb and Cat go to war against the Lannisters because there is an immediately mortal threat to their entire family, and even though Cersei and the rest of the Lannisters are clearly villains, their actions are also driven by an immediate mortal danger that their family is facing. And it's safe to say, a huge portion of what happened in the WOT5K would never have even occurred if a lot of these people weren't put in a position of "HOLY SHIT me or someone I love is about to die RIGHT NOW if I don't do something so I better fucking do something".

I feel like the story makes it clear that the wars that they are fighting are very pointless and brutal anyway. I mean FFS, GRRM does not accidentally traumatize the shit out of Arya by putting her in a commoner's position in a war that is supposedly being fought in her name. So I actually agree with the writer in the sense that there is a double standard when it comes to Dany vs. everyone else, but I feel like the double standard is valid because all of these characters for better or worse have a dog in this fight. Whatever they've done is incredibly personal and therefore pretty irrational for them.

And the fact that the men are rallying to save Arya Stark when they wouldn't rally to save a thousand Jeyne Pooles is very telling and demonstrates that they are extremely hypocritical, but it's also telling because they're not fighting for the "heir to House Stark". They repeatedly talk about how they're fighting for Ned's girl. It has very little to do with her nobility and power and a great deal to do with how these people feel about Ned not as a Stark, but just as a person that they knew and cared for who was horribly wronged.

So while I agree and recognize that a ton of the main characters have done the wrong things, often for the wrong reasons, it's personal, it's emotional, and it's irrational. And in a lot of cases it is driven by something as simple and pure as "I am about to die if I don't do something so I'm doing the first thing I fucking think of to get out of it". Even for the houses who initially got involved as a power play, it has become very much about the people that they care about and their own feelings rather than strategy and house advancement.

That doesn't magically make it moral, but it does make it hugely distinct from what Daenerys is doing. Because Daenerys doesn't have a dog in this fight at all. She has absolutely no personal ties to Westeros or anyone in it, and she is not in any danger from anyone in Westeros. Literally the only Westerosi person who has ever even really tried to kill her is a man she doesn't know and is already dead, and the only Targaryen she ever knew who even had a connection to Westeros was someone she hated who abused her horrifically and who is also already dead.

Ergo, Dany is a villain because she literally has no personal or political justification for the massive war that she's going to bring to Westeros. She is going to leave the place she's in that is a complete mess and desperately needs help even more than it did after her intervention, and she's going to invade a place that she doesn't care about beyond some imaginary concept she has about it in her head, has no connection to, has no need for her, and poses no threat to her.

She's not fighting for anything besides herself and her own sense of entitlement over Westeros. She's more harshly judged for her actions because they are completely driven by her own whims and desires and nothing more. She has the opportunity to think things through and plan and get advice and actually figure out the best way to do things, whereas every character in Westeros is reacting to something very immediate that they don't have a lot of time to consider and that is deeply emotional for them. But still, she doesn't even do that.

She's judged for all of the mistakes she makes because they're unnecessary and foreseeable mistakes. And, if she actually just waited and tried to figure out what to do instead of basically throwing herself into situations where she's suddenly overthrowing governments and ruling hundreds of thousands of people without a plan or any governing experience, then a lot of the bad things that have happened as a result of her campaign wouldn't have happened.

And obviously, I think this is a very intentional move on GRRM's part. I think he establishes that war is pointless and often outrageously hypocritical with the WOT5K, but there's a reason he gave Dany no one she loves and no one who needs her help and no one who poses a threat to her in Westeros. She's going to bring war to an already war-ravaged continent simply because she feels like it should belong to her.

That is drastically different than Robb going to war because his father has been falsely charged with treason or Cersei murdering Robert because he will try to murder her children if he finds out they're not his. And while all of the wars in ASOIAF are terrible and purposeless in the end, GRRM is going very far out of his way to demonstrate that Dany has literally zero justification or even explanation for why she acts the way she does beyond her belief in her own super-special entitlement.

[derangedhyena-delphinidae]

numerous issues with “The Aftermath of Seaworld”

When I get time to do so (aka when I’m done with the documentary), I’m likely going to make a video version of this going into the details. 

But for right now, I’ve made this. Both as a guideline for me and so everyone can begin to get an idea of the severity of issues involved.

Researching things is time-consuming and can be very difficult - believe me, I know. But I’m of the mind that if you’re making content with the intent of educating people, you have a responsibility to perform a certain level of due diligence. It IS okay to express uncertainty or doubt if you have it. It is NOT okay to confidently assert things that you do not know with certainty.

The video has an anticap slant, and I’m obviously not disagreeing on that front. But again: if you’re gonna go through the trouble of teaching people something. Bare minimum... please make sure it’s actually correct. *** 1) x ‘founded in 1964 and based out of Florida’ -  ???? Seaworld definitively began on the west coast, in San Diego, CA. And given that the first park opened in early 1964… things came together before that. Uh? 2) x ‘four people founded Seaworld [...]’ For one… it wasn’t originally conceived as a restaurant, it was originally conceived as an underwater bar/lounge. Two… calling the four guys involved in founding the place “frat brothers” is fucking ridiculous and completely overlooks a) how each was actually involved and b) the overall significance of their contributions to the field as individuals. Hint: like it or not, they were important and did a lot! 

3) x If one is going to bring up SWBGCF/rescues while talking about the literal founding of SW, it gives the impression that it’s been around for that duration. It hasn’t.  It’s actually a bit unclear when SW started an organized rescue program, but the Fund itself and all that it did came about much later. The rescue information and how it’s presented is actually INCREDIBLY complex, nuanced, and has a fascinating history (from a “bad company behaving badly” perspective). Oversimplifying this, to this degree and in this misinformative way, does the facts of the situation an INCREDIBLE disservice.  

4) x [assertive statement about what the name Shamu means]  ….Uh actually there’s several explanations for the name Shamu, and the most likely one IMO seems to be the “she-namu” one, not the “friend of Namu” one(? What is this even based on.) 4b) It’s not quite clear if she’s saying “Namu was the first ever orca to be displayed and perform shows” or or Namu was the first to be displayed and, like Shamu, performed shows. Either way, Moby Doll was the first to truly be displayed to the public, not Namu.

5) x ‘Namu died after one year in captivity and you’d think that this might deter Seaworld from doing the same thing again…’ Seaworld truly had nothing to do with Namu. And they leased/took possession of Shamu before Namu died. ‘Again’? What?

6) x “Now, PETA paints a pretty disturbing picture…” [while showing Okura’s artwork] This video segment is, and this is putting it nicely, a pile of poorly-researched BULLSHIT.  -Yes, PETA talks about Shamu’s capture, re: the harpooning of her mother. This Youtuber cannot apparently be arsed to look more than 1 Google search into this, as she proceeds to dismiss the information as potentially fabricated. There are two detailed accounts of Shamu’s capture that I’m aware of - in books - and though they have some slight conflicts, it’s absolutely NOT in doubt that the female who was very likely Shamu’s mother was 1) harpooned, 2) died from her injuries and 3) this had been done to make her easier to catch/locate because there was a fucking buoy attached to the harpoon. Which she dragged around for at least 24 hours prior dying.  So maybe don’t dismiss that as PETA hysteria, maybe TRY to determine the truth of the matter, which would inform one that it is both true and completely horrifying.  -In addition, Okura is an awesome individual who has worked very hard to create a variety of informative artwork for our cause. Okura is NOT associated with PETA and it’s borderline libel in my eyes to use their artwork in this dismissive manner when the primary sources of it can be easily identified online, with full explanations and everything. Do I take special offense to this because of the misuse of artwork? Absolutely. Artists get disrespected enough online. I’m tired of it. This kind of laziness IS NOT acceptable.

7) x ‘timeline is fuzzy about when Shamu died’ …………… it’s…. It’s really not … newspapers are pretty clear about it…..

8) x [complete and utter oversimplification of the lifespan issue, which is not acceptable for anything published in 2020. It just isn’t. If you’re going to bring it up like this, either do the legwork and get into the weeds or stay out.] 8b) [same for reproductive ages. sigh]

9) x if we’re going to talk about when Cornell was involved with Seaworld it’s very important to specify when Cornell was involved with Seaworld and not make it seem like it’s present tense.

10) x “both were rescued by Seaworld” - uh? no. Zero orcas have been rescued by Seaworld. Literally none. The infected-jaw orca was Sandy, whose story is complex and certainly does not involve Seaworld until much later. And many of the orcas in that time period had bullet wounds, often only identified post-mortem because they didn’t seem to hurt the animals much. Also, unflinchingly blending 70s captivity ethics with modern ones is also complete nonsense? 

11) x [tilikum coming from sealand] inhales I am going to make an entire video centered on this fucking subject because it’s one of the single most profound arguments for Seaworld being garbage as assessed by US government agencies in the 90s yet everyone utterly fails to mention this. Why?!

12) x what on earth is this nonsense re: quoting a quote from Zimmerman’s article - which has already been removed from its original context, so the original context is not available - and then penalizing the quote for existing as if Zimmerman’s article were the context? That is offensively disingenuous. I honestly don’t know what the original context is, either - but it’s wildly inappropriate to act as if the Zimmerman article is.

13) x this is relatively minor but ‘Paul Sprong’? You literally have his name on the screen. And then mis-reading his age too? While asserting it from a static article published years ago? Effort? Where is it?

14) x ‘another trainer, Peter’ ….. Ken Peters…. 

15) [weirdly glossing over the widely-available list of orca-trainer injuries/aggressions, despite it being central to the point.] 16) x This pilot whale outrage certainly happened but it was pretty clearly Blackfish that started the cascade of woes for Seaworld. Who has ever asserted this?

17) if you’re gonna just rehash blackfish, tell people to go watch blackfish.

18) x I’ve already gone over the context issue with Seaworld calling out Howard’s statement in Blackfish here (point 23). Which is to say, IN CONTEXT in Blackfish it’s clear what Mr. Garrett is talking about but, divorced from that, it sounds incorrect. But this Youtuber AMPLIFIES the issue by doubling down on the assertion with “no record of a killer whale doing any harm to anyone in the wild.” The surfer event should always be mentioned. Yes, there’s absolutely room for doubt. But there’s also a clear demarcation between an accidental attack (eg mistaken identity, as was likely for the surfer) and intentional one (eg the incidents at marine parks.) Why do people kneecap themselves on this point 18b) please stop acting like Luna represents orcas in general.

19) x “Howard, for all of his research…” … while referring to David Duffus’ b-roll and statements. Uh. 20) x Apparently this Youtuber has single-handedly resolved the dorsal fin issue. You know, the thing that hasn’t been properly researched ever, that has been subject to a ton of debate, that isn’t 100% settled for a variety of reasons, and almost everyone talks about in terms of theories and likely possibilities.  21) x Alexis Martinez wasn’t “torn to shreds.” In a space where even moderate exaggerations are often penalized harshly by the opposition, this kind of blatant nonsense is not welcome. Plus, the reality’s bad enough… you don’t have to make anything up!

22) x *sighs. points at own webpage*

23) Talking about the shows stopping without acknowledging how that’s a bit of a farce is something else. In addition to apparently just flipping to buying what Seaworld’s selling re: its ‘improved image.’ 

*** Tl;dr video is so unrelentingly full of errors ranging from small to egregious it makes me seriously concerned for the veracity of the rest of this person’s content. The maker of the video provided a list of their sources in their video description, which I will have time to look through in detail later. The above is solely a response to the information they present IN THE VIDEO - which, is very important because let’s be real: a lot of people are not going to look at the list of sources. People don’t even do it when citing papers (no really, you’d be surprised, fml.) For anyone who wants to whinge that I haven’t linked or asserted any sources of my own for my claims… well, remember what I said about time-consuming and ‘I’m busy’? Yhea. Getting all of that together will be part of making a video. So if you want to shrug loudly at my list here… you can, that’s your prerogative, I’m happy to say I DGAF if that’s your takeaway. 

What I hope, is that if there’s anything I’ve made clear over the While of running this blog, it’s that I don’t fuck around when it comes to sources and information and do my best to provide what information exists, all of it, not just cherrypicked bits and bobs. Anyways. Here’s step 0 at least. Please don’t share that video. Pretty please.

[jincherie]

kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga​​ ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.  

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare. 

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword. 

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life. 

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.    

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching. 

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from. 

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse. 

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now. 

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably. 

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it. 

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment. 

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting. 

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.  

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely. 

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising.  “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way. 

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip.  The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him. 

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does. 

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not. 

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can. 

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features. 

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events. 

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls. 

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel. 

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane. 

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here. 

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics. 

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts. 

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing. 

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes. 

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does. 

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour. 

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there. 

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier. 

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death. 

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this. 

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

 …You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride.  “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch. 

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know. 

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself. 

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone. 

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing. 

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly. 

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten. 

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches  and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics. 

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations. 

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think. 

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped. 

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

[wildlyglittering]

A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)

I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!

I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors. 

I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!

I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....

***

Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.

Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.

No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.

Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.

As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.

That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.

There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.

At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.  

Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.

That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.

Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.

The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.

When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”

Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.

The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.

No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.

Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.

“Nesta?”

“I’m here.”

“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”

Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.

Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”

Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.

Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.

She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.

“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”

Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.

Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?

She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.

The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.

When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”

“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”

Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.

“Just do the dance cultural justice.”

Nesta swore she would.

On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.

High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.

Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.

As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.

They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.

The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.

They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.

She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.

Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.

Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.

Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”

Yes, that was why.

Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”

It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.

Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.

The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.

Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.

The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.

Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.

Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.

At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”

Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.

Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.

They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.

Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.

“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”

“I don’t know, probably.”

“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”

Yes. Terrified.

“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”

Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.

At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.

Gwyn’s grin was still wide.

“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”

Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”

Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.

The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.

For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.

Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.

While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.

Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.

The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.

Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.

The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.

The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.

Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.

Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.

The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.

Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.

Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!

Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.

The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.

The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.

When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.

Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.

Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.

She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.

In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.

“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”

Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”

The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”

Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.

Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.

Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.

The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.

Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.

Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.

Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.

Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other – a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.

Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.

The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.

“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.

What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.

There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.

Must have been magic.

“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”

Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.

“Interesting performance.”

Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?

If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.

“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”

“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”

Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”

Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.

“Why didn’t Amren stay?”

“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”

The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.

For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.

The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.

“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.

“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”

“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”

Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.

“Well, that explains it!”

Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.

Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.

“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”

Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.

“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”

Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.

She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.

He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”

Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.

“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”

Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.

Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.

His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.

She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”

Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”

“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”

Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.

“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”

It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.

Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.

Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.

Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.

The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.

Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.

She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.

History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.

The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.

Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.

The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.

There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.

Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.

Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.

Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.

She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.

Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.

“What are you-? How did you-?”

Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”

“Well... yeah.”

“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”

Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”

“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”

She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.  

It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.  

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.

Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.

Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”

Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”

“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”

“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”

Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.

Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.

As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.

Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.

“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”

Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Oh.

“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”

Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”

“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”

Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”

Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”

Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”

They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.

Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”

“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”

“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.

Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.

They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.

“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”

Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“How long have you been interested in them?”

“A while.”

“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”

Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.

Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”

They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.

“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”

“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”

“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”

“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”

Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.

The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.

They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.

“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.

He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”

Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.

He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.

Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.

“Wait!”

Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive.  I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”

Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”

Nesta nodded.

“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.

“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”

The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”

Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”

The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.

Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.

“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.

Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.

A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.

“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”

[ladykissingfish]

The Akatsuki at Karaoke Night

Being a group of insatiable killers is hard work, even in the best of circumstances. Like anybody else, the Akatsuki is constantly seeking out ways to unwind and de-stress during their off time. One day Konan goes out and comes back excited; a local tavern hosts a karaoke night every week. The others are reluctant at first, but this quickly becomes one of their new favorites pastimes. Drinking, eating, singing; what could be more fun than that?

Deidara

Has to be really drunk to get up on stage and sing. Like, incredibly drunk. Like how-is-he-still-standing-drunk. When in this state, there’s one song that he’ll sing and one song only: “I’m A Barbie Girl.” Nobody in the Akatsuki knows why he chooses this particular song, but everyone has to admit that it suits him. He’ll take his hair out of his ponytail and have it cascading down his back, he’ll tie up his shirt in a front knot, and, if she’s wearing them, will borrow Konan’s heels to wear. And he’ll always try and drag Sasori on stage with him to sing the parts of Ken (C’mon, Danna! You’re literally like a doll, hm!), but Sasori will only comply if he’s in a really good mood/there’s not that many people around. Despite his intoxication he’ll actually sing beautifully, so much so that he’ll receive requests for encores; which he’ll do, until the booze catches up with him and he falls head-first off the stage and into someone’s (usually Tobi’s) lap. Won’t remember a thing the next day and feverishly insist that he’s never even heard of “some weird Barbie song”.

EDIT:: After days of this being on my mind I can also believe that Deidara would sing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood(?) and stare directly at Sasori the entire time even though they’re not really dating they‘re “in a situation” and even though if they WERE dating Sasori isn’t the cheating kind but he’s listening to the lyrics and noting how intensely Deidara is singing it and his face is just 😳

Sasori

He only goes because the others insist that he does. Honestly, this guy has a severe allergy to anything Fun. Chances are he’ll bring one of his puppets with him to work on/modify. He mostly refuses to get on stage and sing any songs of his own, BUT he’ll use his chakra strings to control his puppet and have it dance along on stage to a song of his choosing, that he has one of the other members sing for the puppet (giving them a taste of ventriloquism). The song he likes his performers to do most frequently is “Dancing With Myself” by Billy Joel; this must be his favorite song because he always silently mouths along to it as it plays. If literally nobody else is there besides the rest of the Akatsuki, he sometimes “makes” Deidara join him for a duet; he’s particularly fond of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John, although he and Deidara always fight over who sings the part of the girl.

Tobi

It’s dangerous to let Tobi sing in front of people. Not because he’s bad at it, but because ... he’s good. Startlingly good. His voice changes completely from a goofy childish timbre, to very deep, and smooth, and mellow. There are sea legends about sailors being lured to their deaths by the songs of sirens, and the same principle seems to be at work here. Waitresses will drop their trays, people walking will run face-first into each other, and the area around the stage will be packed with men and women alike trying to get as close as possible to him. The fact that he sounds like that but won’t make his mask off makes him even more mysterious and alluring. His song of choice? “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers; which brings tears (and swooning) to the eyes and minds of anyone who hears him. After the song it’s like someone flips a switch, and he goes back to the weirdo that the Akatsuki knows and tolerates, seemingly completely oblivious to the chaos his singing caused. He also enjoys having drinks with his Senpai, as the alcohol makes the blonde much more friendly towards Tobi than he usually is; however he can’t keep up with the amount of booze Deidara can put away, and he feels sleepy after just a few beers.

Hidan

As with most group outings, he’ll complain about thinking everything is stupid. His religion prohibits the consumption of alcohol, so he’ll occupy himself with eating lots of food and “lovingly” heckling his fellow Akatsuki members when they get up on stage. Once in a blue moon he can be persuaded to get up and sing himself, although again this is a complete rarity. He has no real music preferences and will usually just flip through the available choices until he finds something he knows the lyrics to. Tries to pick songs with a lot of swearing in it, which he won’t bother to bleep out and will instead scream out at the top of his lungs (which often results in the whole group being threatened with getting kicked out). Sometimes, though, when he’s in a more mellow state of mind ((a rarity for Hidan)) he’ll get the urge to do a duet (because that takes the pressure off of everyone staring only at him) and can convince Konan to go up with him. Their rendition of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” always brings the room to its feet, and gets them thunderous applause. After the song Konan will blush and kiss his cheek, which Hidan pretends to act embarrassed about (but is secretly thrilled by). His favorite song to do solo, however, is “Sympathy For The Devil” by The Rolling Stones, which he ... really ... gets into.

Kakuzu

Mostly comes out with the others as a sort of chaperone; making sure they get home safe after drinking, and trying to prevent them from blowing all their money on the “outrageously priced” food and drinks. Karaoke isn’t really his thing, and neither is being on stage in front of people. However if he’s in a decent mood, and there aren’t that many people around, he can be persuaded to get up and sing. He sings the most amazing rendition of “Ain’t No Grave (Can Hold My Body Down)” by Johnny Cash; his deep gravelly voice and slow speaking pitch are absolutely perfect for it, giving everyone listening goosebumps. Kakuzu is also a skilled guitar player, and sometimes he will sit on stage and play the guitar bits of certain songs for other Akatsuki members singing, “But I’m taking my fees out of your next paycheck.”

Zetsu

Surprisingly, this is one activity that the plant-man enjoys engaging in with the others. He’s not much of an alcohol drinker, and “human” food isn’t really his thing, either; but he loves to hear the others do their best at singing. It takes a lot to get Zetsu up on the stage himself, but when he does, he’s a fairly decent singer. He’s able to change the pitch of his voice quite effortlessly, so that it intend sounds as if two people are singing, instead of one. His song of choice is a long one: “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. It takes a lot f stamina to get through this, but Zetsu always finds that half the time he can’t even hear his own voice with this one, as everyone in the place sings with him (because seriously, who alive doesn’t know this song?). But it’s not all fun and games; Zetsu will always be scoping out the crowd, discerning who the most intoxicated people are. He’ll lure these poor souls into the alley out back, and gave himself a tasty little snack. He tries his hardest not to let the others catch him doing this, though, as this is supposed to be a fun and stress-free night for all involved.

Konan and Pein

This whole thing was her idea, yet, unless it’s a duet with one of the others, she’s very reluctant to try and sing on her own. Thinks her voice is “nails on a chalkboard”, although everyone vehemently disagrees with this perspective. Never has to bring any money with her to the bar, because all of the boys will take turns buying her food and drinks. She goes crazy for fries of any kind, and can eat carloads of these alone. Konan is exceptionally beautiful, and she will be mercilessly hit on from the moment she walks in until they all leave. Well, not always — the boys ALSO like to take turns acting as Konan’s bodyguard, and protecting her from anyone who tries to come within three feet of her. They hide their more vicious tendencies for when Konan’s not paying attention, because they know she wants a relaxing evening, but still: there’s been quite a number of guys escorted out of the bar by Kisame and Hidan, that mysteriously never return. When persuaded to sing, almost anything she chooses will be an Amy Winehouse song, as this is her favorite artist. Her favorite song is “Wake Up Alone”, which moves her fellow teammates (Pein included) to tears. Joins Kakuzu as helper to make sure everyone gets home safe and sound. Pein doesn’t like singing, and does not want to sing ... but Konan always manages to convince him to be a good sport at some point in the evening. But the song he picks is disappointingly predictable: “Pain” by Three Days Grace. Expected, maybe ... but he puts real heart and soul into his rendition, nearly falling off the stage with his enthusiasm. As with all group outings, Nagato loves to experience everything through the Pein-body’s eyes, and spend time with this makeshift family of his.

Kisame

One of the biggest drinkers, but something (perhaps his half-animalness) makes it near impossible for him to be totally drunk, no matter how much alcohol he consumes. Sometimes he’ll make a deal with Kakuzu: Kakuzu will scope out other drunks in the place, inform Kisame of their whereabouts, and Kisame will hustle them for money in either drinking contests or pool games. He’ll split the money with the old guy, making both happy. When it comes to the karaoke aspect, Kisame doesn’t really like singing, or being in front of a crowd; but decides to be a good sport and do a song lIke the others. He can sing almost anything (he has a wide vocal range), but he really seems to favor love ballads. His favorite is November Rain by Guns n Roses, and the rest of the Akatsuki is shocked at how damn soulful he sounds singing it. If not singing or hustling drunks, he likes to spend some quiet time with Itachi, buying him snacks and coaxing the thin ((TOO thin, in Kisame’s opinion)) young man to eat.

Itachi

Is quiet and shy by nature, so naturally things like karaoke bars aren’t really his deal. But Kisame always insists that it’s good for him to get out ((out of the hideout and out of his head)) and socialize once in a while, so he goes. It’s the same deal as Konan, almost, where women flock to him and hit on him for nearly the entire duration of his visit. However, the group doesn’t act as a collective bodyguard for him, as the majority of them feel like he’d be better off, as Hidan delicately puts it, “If the fucker just got laid.” But Itachi doesn’t seem interested in anything like this; he’s polite to those who approach him, but so closed-off that eventually they give up. When one particularly persistent woman wouldn’t leave him alone, Itachi resorted to grabbing the person nearest him (who happened to be Deidara) and telling the admirer that he was his boyfriend. He even put his arm around the guy’s waist, squeezing him. Deidara went along with it, but after the woman left he angrily informed Itachi that he’d “blow your ass up if you ever try something like that again, hm!” That’s what he SAYS, but it should be noted that he blushes quite hard for some time afterwards. Itachi was only ever convicted to go up and sing one time, and it was a duet with Kisame. The song was “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie. At the end of the song, Kisame was beaming, and Itachi had more admirers than ever clamoring for his attention. Not used to late nights so if they’re out past midnight will usually fall asleep sitting at the bar, and be carried home (and put into bed) by Kisame.

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 2 -- The Invitation

Word Count: 8,903 

READ ON AO3

Hours could have passed since Sam received the letter and she wouldn’t have noticed, the events were so unreal her mind still hadn’t been able to fully register them. What was supposed to be a day like any other suddenly passed by in a blur. And no matter what she did, she just couldn’t make sense of it all. 

The moment Star gave her the letter, the queen recognised the logo engraved on the seal closing the envelope. That forsaken logo had made daily appearances on the news for the last three years, when he started using and associating it to his person. 

Danny Phantom.

The current Ghost King. 

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the feeling of astonishment that came with that simple realisation. Such was her stupor that, once her back collided against her black mahogany vanity, her legs lost all strength to support her weight, slowly sliding down until Sam was seated on the floor of her chambers. Eyes wide and mouth hanging open. 

Terror gripping at them at the sight of their, otherwise collected, queen, the handmaidens immediately scurried over her, checking for any sign that would imply their leader needed any sort of assistance. 

A million thoughts materialised inside Sam’s head. How did the Ghost King know there were witches in Amity Park? Did all ghosts know they weren’t the only otherworldly creatures blending in with humans? How did the Ghost King know where to find them? Were her people in danger?

But most importantly, why did the infamous Danny Phantom write her for?

Grimacing, Sam figured there was only one way to find out. With a shaking hand, she gestured for Star to bring her the envelope. Concern still apparent on the blonde’s features, for her queen must have truly been too stunned to perform magic herself, she nonetheless did as she was instructed. “Fluito,” she whispered, and immediately afterwards an orange, fire-like aura surrounded the envelope, until the object came to them. 

Sam gripped the envelope like a life line and, with trembling hands, broke the wax seal to get to the letter inside. What she found only made matters worse: 

“Dear Madam, 

I hope this message finds you well. I would not be able to reprimand you if my sudden writing to you took you by surprise; I found myself disbelieving of my own actions, after all. 

I wish to inform you on an important occurrence I believe deserves your attention. However, I will not be able to describe said occurrence through this letter, unfortunately. I fear it might be intercepted by those who would give anything to see me fall, or perhaps by your own enemies if you were to have them. 

It is because of such circumstances that I formally invite you and whoever you decide as members of your entourage to my lair in the Ghost Zone, in hopes that we will be able to discuss these matters without fear of our respective domains being put in jeopardy. 

In order to save ourselves some time, if you were to accept my proposal, you and your entourage shall go to the outskirts of Amity Park in a week’s time, where one of my subjects will be waiting for you. 

I eagerly await your answer, 

King Phantom.”

Once she was done reading the letter, Sam could only gape at it. That had been an eternity ago, and now she was pacing up and down her room, massaging her temples as she tried making sense of it all. 

When the initial shock from the Ghost King’s message had finally worn off, Sam proceeded to re-read the letter, in case she misunderstood the spectre’s motives and he was actually requesting something far more reasonable than her company. Like declaring war on them. Ghosts and witches going to war with each other made much more sense than members of both species ーthe leaders of both species, as a matter of factー willingly being near the other for the first time in 328 years. 

But she came back empty-handed. And that could only mean one thing; she had to read the letter again because, clearly, her reading comprehension wasn’t as good as she thought. And so, Sam read the letter for the third time...and the fourth time...and the fifth time...

By the time she had already read the accusing piece of paper for the eleventh time, she finally understood her company was exactly what Phantom was requesting of her. But why?

“If you keep going in circles like that, you’re gonna get dizzy,” Paulina chimed in, watching as her queen paced around the room, muttering nonsense under her breath. “Or what’s worse, you’re going to make me dizzy.”

“Pauli’s right, Sam. Drawing a hole on the floor will get you nowhere.” Star agreed, her own eyes following the raven-haired girl’s every move. In any other circumstances, say, if Pamela were around, the two girls would get in trouble for addressing the Witch Queen so casually. However, once they were assigned to her and Sam discovered the usefulness of their talents, the three young women had soon agreed to treat each other informally whenever they were away from prying eyes. 

Sam wholeheartedly believed familiarity was the key to winning someone’s trust. Because of that, she allowed for witches as loyal as her ladies-in-waiting to get close to her, while keeping anyone she suspected of being troublesome at a respectful distance. 

Nibbling on her thumb, a clear sign of her distress, Sam shook her head. “Girls, you don’t understand. This simple letter could lead to disastrous consequences! And I’m not talking about whatever it is that that forsaken Phantom wants from me, which is a whole new level of worrying; I’m talking about the possibility of our clan being compromised!” The Latina and the blonde started when Sam abruptly stopped pacing, stomping her foot against the floor to get their attention. “If the ruler of a race we haven’t had any contact with in more than three centuries knows where to find us, who’s to say the rest of Amity Park remains blissfully unaware of our very existence? This is The Great Burning all over again!” She bellowed in anguish.

This was bad. This was very bad. Unlike ghosts, who revelled in wreaking havoc amongst mortals and drawing attention from it, witches had long decided to remain off the humans’ radar. For centuries, they blended in with normal men and women, pretending to be just like them, while they carried out their spells, rites, and  ceremonies away from the public eye in the safety of their manor.

The existence of their society was their best-kept secret, and they’d be damned if such information got leaked. For starters, that pesky witch hunter they often brushed off could very well turn into a real threat. 

The fact that their secret depended on a ghost of all things made Sam’s insides churn in fright and rightful outrage. 

“Alright, you have a point,” Paulina conceded, but to her companions’ shock her worried gaze soon morphed itself into a swoon, “But you can’t deny that the Ghost King is a total hunk. I’m so jealous of you right now.” She sighed, her mind clearly elsewhere. 

Scowling darkly at the Latina, Sam turned to her other lady-in-waiting, “Star, please, do me a favour and smack her. Hard.”

The blonde did as she was told and hit her friend on the back of her neck, eliciting a complaint from her. 

Sending a glare to her fellow witch, Paulina began to gently rub the area. “You don’t have to do everything she tells you, you know?”

“Um, Pauli? She’s the Queen...You know, as in our boss? I literally have to do everything she tells me.” She reminded her, earning herself a huff from the aggravated girl. She then turned to her queen, her own eyes sparkling with excitement. “Paulina’s got a point, though. For a dead guy with ice powers, he sure is hawt. Watching him save the day is the highlight of my week!”

Sensing an aura filled with murderous intent, Star flinched slightly under Sam’s withering glare. “He’sーstillーaーghost.” Her queen said through gritted teeth. 

Watching the interaction, the Latina beauty sniffed in displeasure, “Hey, no fair! You haven’t told me to hit her for drooling over the Ghost King!”, she whined.

“Girls, focus! This is serious!” Sam snapped. 

Her fellow witches actually had the decency to look down in shame at her outburst. “Uh...right, sorry.” Paulina apologised sheepishly.

Somehow, something about the girl’s apology didn’t sit well with Sam. Their knowing smirks, staring down at her as if they knew a secret she didn’t, sent goosebumps down her spine. “What?”

Paulina raised her palms up in surrender. “Nothing. It’s just that I thought you’d be more appreciative of Phantom’s physique given your...preferences.” She finished with a coy smile. 

That comment sent the Witch Queen reeling, which wasn’t helped in the least by Paulina’s smug look and Star’s snickering by her side. Her preferences? Was she serious? “Excuse me? Just because I’m a Goth doesn’t mean I’m necrophiliac! I’m not that hardcore, andー! ...why are you laughing?”

Sam’s indignant defence of her lifestyle was met with her two informants doubled over in laughter. Sam could do nothing but stare on, dumbfounded. After a few minutes, they seemed to finally calm down. Star, resting her weight over Paulina’s hunched over form, wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye as her laughter died down. “Sam,” she panted, “what Pauli means is that Phantom looks a lot like your ex. White hair, green eyes...Ring a bell?”

The young witch spluttered at that. Now that she thought about it, Danny Phantom was remarkably similar to her ex-boyfriend, Gregor...or Elliot, or whatever he called himself now. All the more reason to distrust the so-called ‘hero of Amity Park’.

“Whatever”, she huffed, before her expression turned downcast. Plopping down on the starry covers of her bed, she raised her hands to her head as she leaned forward. DeMilo came hopping to her, nuzzling her leg with its stem. 

No matter how the Ghost King looked, he had still addressed her by personally sending her a letter. The location of her clan’s headquarters was a secret almost as well-kept as the very existence of her sisters. Whatever she chose to do could endanger hers and their fellow covens! 

On the one hand, ghosts were treacherous and conniving. If she went to the Ghost Zone as per requested of her, she could be falling into a trap, bringing chaos and anarchy upon her own coven with her, for she was still too young to have an heiress of her own. And since there were no other purple-eyed witches, her demise would bring forth internal battles for control. 

She couldn’t afford that to happen.

But, on the other hand, ghosts were also malicious and resentful. There was a reason why they remained stuck in their realm instead of moving on! If she were to refuse the invitation, they could either attack or reveal their existence to the humans in retaliation. Either way, it would have disastrous consequences for her coven...if they even survived the onslaught. 

She certainly couldn’t afford that to happen either. 

Sighing through her nose, in an effort to keep her head clear of any doubt, her gaze steeled. Turning to look at her handmaidens straight in the eye, all sense of familiarity gone, she gave but one simple order. “Arrange a Council meeting. Immediately.”

Understanding the gravity of the situation, her companions bowed down to her before hastily making their exit. 

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

Council meetings took place in the attic of the manor. What in any other house would be a dusty, dark place clattered to the ceiling with old furniture, boxes whose descriptions didn’t match their contents, and the stuff of nightmares of any five-year-old, the attic where the Amity Park Coven gathered was closer in size to a ballroom. 

The rows of seats formed a “u” shape, being close to the walls and leaving the middle of the room, which was dedicated to witches making their cases or taking the floor, empty. On the far corner of the room, between the rest of the witches acting as witnesses to the meetings, was the podium where the Council sat down and presided over the room. 

The Council consisted of four witches. The leader was the Queen, who oversaw the process and spoke for her and her fellow members once they’d reached a decision. Her second-in-command, and therefore the one who was in charge whenever it was the Queen herself that brought up a case or proposal to deliberate about, was the witch with the most proficiency at spellcasting after the clan’s head. The coven’s “Minister of War” was the best potion-maker in the clan. And, finally, the sorceress in charge of maintaining their anonymity amongst humans was she who was the most proficient shapeshifter. 

Her interlaced hands resting on the wooden table from where she’d make her proposal in the middle of the room, Sam met her colleagues’ curious eyes with a determined gaze of her own. She could feel her mother’s disapproving glare on herーPamela never liked it when her daughter brought attention to herself, because it would mean that, if things went awry, all eyes would turn on herー, she could hear her people’s hushed voices, whispering among themselves, wondering what could possibly be so important to deserve an impromptu Council meeting summoned by the Queen herself. 

But her mind was made up. Informing the Council in hopes of approval was a mere formality she simply could not avoid. 

Clearing her throat, Margaret, the clan’s best spellcaster, stood up from her seat, silencing the room by drawing attention to herself with that simple action.

Margaret was a woman in her fifties. Her Grandma Ida used to tell her that when she was Sam’s age, she used to be quite the lookerーher mother often had to use a spell or two to send her suitors running. Even now, the woman still retained some of her youthful beauty. A woman of average height, Margaret’s sharp features hinted at an equally sharp mind. With chocolate skin, her green eyes hid an intellect and common sense that had often saved the clan from ruin, even during her Grandma’s reign. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, with slightly longer strands framing her diamond-shaped face. The woman’s fashion sense was a reflection of her responsible and professional nature, wearing a business suit consisting of a forest green jacket and skirt over a white shirt. Adorning her neck was a mustard kerchief and, Sam was willing to bet, she was wearing her favourite black heels. 

“Your Majesty,” Margaret addressed her, “as you will understand, your sudden wish for a Council meeting has rendered us rather perplexed. We can only assume that whichever matters you wish to discuss must be of importance.”

It was Sam’s turn to stand up from her chair, “Of utmost importance.”

“Then, by all means, proceed.” The Council member nodded, gesturing at Sam. 

“My dear subjects, just like your day has been disrupted by this sudden meeting, mine has been disrupted by a most unusual, and might I add disturbing, occurrence. As I was getting dressed in my quarters, readying myself to fulfill my duties of the day, one of my handmaidens came rushing in, a letter in her hand.” Sam braced herself for what came next, “The author of the letter is no other than Danny Phantom, the current Ghost King.”

Everyone gasped at the revelation. Soon after the surprise had worn off, chaos ensued. Indignant cries, questions asked aloud, and general confusion reigned. And who could blame them? Witches and ghosts had cut all ties that bound them centuries before. 

“Order, order!” Wilhelmina, the coven’s greatest potion-maker and Minister of War, demanded as she repeatedly slammed the podium with her bare hands.

Once the commotion had died down, Margaret refocused her steely gaze on their Queen. “Your Majesty, please, do explain the contents of this letter.”

“Due to the Ghost King’s fear of the letter being intercepted by his enemies, the message was short yet direct. He wishes to discuss a matter of urgency with me, for which he has officially invited me and whoever I choose as members of my court to his lair in the Ghost Zone.”

Again, the room broke out in gasps and hushed questions Sam didn’t have the answer to. Then came the question Sam simultaneously dreaded and anticipated the most, “And what do you wish to do, your Majesty?” 

“I wish to accept his proposal,” was her answer. 

All Hell broke loose at her words, only this time, Wilhelmina herself was participating in it. Wilhelmina was a pudgy woman with a round face and a strong will. A woman in her late thirties to early forties, her fair complexion was spotted by countless freckles. She was relatively plain-looking, with auburn hair that she often wore in a tight bun and dark eyes, but judging from the rumours going around, her fiery personality landed her several conquests. Despite what her strong personality might imply, Wilhelmina favoured loose-fitting dresses, such as the dark blue and white polak-dotted one she was currently wearing, and sandals. 

The potion-maker was one of the most outspoken in her hatred of ghosts, which in itself was common among witches. The resentment from all those years ago had never really faded, and ever since those damned spectres mysteriously reappeared, old wounds had reopened. 

While both Grandma Ida and Sam advocated for steering clear from them unless provoked, Wilhelmina was a firm believer that they should have got rid of the spirits as soon as they first appeared, starting with Danny Phantom. A conviction that was only intensified the moment he was named King of the Ghosts. 

“All in all”, Sam mused to herself, “she’s taking it way better than I expected.” The raven haired girl patiently waited until Margaret had, once again, everything under control. Due to her stick-by-the-book nature, the African American woman did not appreciate when one of her fellow Council members encouraged unruly behaviour. 

“Your Majesty, this is preposterous!” Wilhelmina bellowed, slamming her hands down on her desk as she hastily stood up. “That husk of a person dares request your presence and you accept the invitation?! Forgive me, my Lady, but nothing good can come out of it.” A murmur of agreement could be heard throughout the room. Their Minister of War was right; what was their Queen thinking?

Then, she added, “Then again, what can we expect from a naive twenty-one-year-old girl.” Her words elicited a gasp from the crowd. On her part, although Sam was dying to tell her off, she masterfully remained impassive, only raising a questioning eyebrow at her direction. Her Grandma would’ve been so proud of her. 

Margaret cleared her throat. “Although that last comment was uncalled for,” she admitted, shooting a glare at her colleague for her callous words, “Wilhelmina is right when she says attending this meeting would be...unorthodox,” ーSam had to admit, Margaret was almost as good as her mother at carefully choosing her words to appear as socially acceptable as possible. Almostー, “there is also great danger. We all know what happened the last time our people trusted ghosts; are we really willing to let them make fools out of us again?”

“I say this is ground for war!” Wilhelmina roared. “Your Majesty, you and your grandmother, may she rest in peace, gave orders to avoid confrontation unless provoked. Well, now we are being provoked, by being set up! We cannot let this...this...third rate ‘hero’”, she air-quoted with a scoff, “insult us like that and go scott free!”

“Wilhelmina, let her Majesty explain her reasoning. I’m sure she has thought this through.” Delilah, the clan’s expert shapeshifter, tried placating her fellow witch. Sam could only smile in gratitude. 

At 28, Delilah was the youngest Council member, second only to Sam. Despite the usual naiveté and unrealistic optimism attributed to her youth, Delilah was also the one most willing to listen to the other side of the story. She preferred broadening her horizons before making a verdict, trying to understand where the witch in question was trying to get at. And this time, she was trying to understand why Sam would want to go to the lion’s den. 

The shapeshifter’s natural beauty was also unmatched. Paulina would sometimes seethe in jealousy at the attention she would get or how effortlessly she pulled any look the Latina herself had trouble with. Narrow shoulders and hips, a well-defined burst, legs for miles… Delilah was any man’s fantasy! With her smooth, caramel skin. Her strikingly blue eyes and long lashes. And her silky, ebony hair she often styled in a long braid. Her fashion sense was so on point it could put any haute couture designer to shame. For instance, to that meeting she wore an off-shoulder, long-sleeved red mini dress, a black belt with a golden buckle tightened around her waist, and knee-high black leather boots. 

Wilhelmina nodded reluctantly, crossing her arms. Smiling at that, Delilah turned to Sam. “Your Majesty, please, proceed.”

Sam breathed in deeply. Phantom’s request had piqued her interest; what could the ruler of the Ghost Zone possibly want from her and her people now that his kind roamed freely around the city? The last seven years both species had avoided each other like the plague, and even if they hadn't, nothing they could’ve done would warrant meeting up after centuries apart. Despite all her doubts and questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to, Sam needed to know, above all else, if her people were safe. Determination coursing through her veins, she spoke up: 

“As you all know, when I ascended to the throne, taking the mantle from my grandmother, I swore on my life and honour that everything I would do, every single decision I would take, would be with our safety in mind.

“When I read the Ghost King’s letter, I was as stunned as you are now. A thousand questions running freely through my mind. I have thought about this long and hard, until I reached my decision.” She lay her eyes on the potion-maker, “Wilhelmina, you are in your right to be suspicious of his intentions, for so am I, but just like this could be a trap, not answering their call could also very well be our downfall.

“Ghosts are mischievous, resentful, and self-centred. Everything they do is based on what gives them even the smallest amount of satisfaction, which often means that the only way to appease them is doing as they say.” When Margaret opened her mouth to intervene, Sam silenced her with a raised palm. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way,  but it is. And that is not all. You might think I am making this choice lightly, but nothing further from the truth. In accepting Phantom’s proposal, I am trying to prevent the ghosts from retaliating, for they could endanger us if I were to refuse in revenge.”

Her violet eyes shone with fiery determination and unwavering confidence as she spoke her last words, “My decision is made. I shall go to the Ghost Zone, even if I must do so on my own. But I will protect our clan if it’s the last thing I do.”

A deafening silence hung in the air. Nobody even moved. Finally, Margaret intertwined her fingers, her shoulders resting atop her desk, her body moving forward. Her green eyes betrayed none of her feelings on the matter. “Very well. Feel free to request anything you might need from us. Have a safe journey, my Queen.”

And with that, every single witch present rose from her seat, bowing their heads to their leader as a sign of respect and submission. 

She’d done it. She was going to go to the Ghost Zone.

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

Once the meeting was over, Sam got ready to leave the room to start preparing as soon as possible when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Delilah smiling at her. She smiled back. 

“Is everything alright, Delilah?” Since the shapeshifter and her were close in age, she was one of the few witches Sam acted casually to, seeing her as some sort of older sister. 

Delilah shook her head, the smile never leaving her face. “I just wanted to wish you luck, Sam. You’re not just our queen, you’re also the first witch to visit the Ghost Zone in centuries!”

“I know.” Sam looked down on the floor, feeling slightly uneasy. 

Sensing her discomfort, Delilah soon changed the topic. “Also, I just wanted to tell you that your Grandmother would have been incredibly proud.” 

Sam gasped. Family was taboo around Delilah, for her family had the misfortune of dying young. Delilah’s own mother had died when her daughter was just fifteen. For her to bring up Grandma Ida...she must have meant every single word she said. 

“Thank you, Delilah. That means a lot.”

With one squeeze of her hands, the blue-eyed beauty left her alone. 

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

That night, after a long, nerve-wracking day waiting for the Witch Queen’s reply, Danny was startled out of his musings by a ring of his doorbell. Taking off and changing his legs for a ghostly tail, the white-haired young man sprinted down his lair’s corridors until he was face to face with his door. 

When he opened it, to his immense relief, he found the same ghostly postman he had sent to deliver his letter, only this time he was handing an envelope to him. Snatching the piece of paper with a quick, “Thanks”, Danny went back to his quarters in a blur. 

Now that he had the envelope in his hands, he couldn’t help but eye it curiously. The envelope was of a rich, royal purple in colour, sealed with a black wax stamp, the relief of it drawing a rose. 

This is it, he thought. Depending on her answer, we’ll either have to look for another solution, or for ways to protect ourselves the moment they turn their backs on us. 

With shaking hands, he ripped open the envelope, taking the letter from inside. An immense relief coupled by a healthy dose of anxiety rolled off of him in waves when his eyes scanned over the words: 

“Dear Sir, 

I accept your proposal. 

We shall meet in a week’s time. 

Cordially, 

Lady Arcana.”

Preparing themselves for a possible betrayal, it was.

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

Making it to the outskirts of Amity Park was a hassle Danny hadn’t anticipated. If it weren’t because a group of mysterious women and a ghost suddenly appearing in their lab, in front of the Fenton Ghost Portal, wouldn’t fly with his parents, Danny would’ve actually sent the witches there.

Then again, guiding Skulker out of his family’s ghost portal and around town until they made it to their destination was no picnic, either. Especially since the hunter kept giving him the stink-eye and challenging his authority; questioning his motives for choosing him, of all people, as the sorceresses’ escort. 

On top of that, the hills surrounding Amity Park really were the perfect place to meet up with the magic users while keeping the secretive nature of their encounter. Not only were the hills a good forty minutes away from the closest highway, a dense forest grew there, protecting its visitors from curious, unwanted eyes. 

“For the last time, Skulker, I am not throwing you to the wolves!” It was the tenth time since they left the Ghost Zone that the ghost had accused him of using him as a decoy. “Seriously, will you drop it already?”

The hunter crossed his arms in a disbelieving huff, “Well, forgive me, your Majesty,” he mocked, “for suspecting you of using this as an opportunity to get rid of one of your detractors.” His glowing green eyes narrowed in distrust. 

It was only 11AM and Danny was already exhausted. Technically, Skulker wasn’t exactly a detractor of his rule. When push came to shove, he was always easy to convince to lend a hand in times of needーsuch as now. Having said that, their mutual respect and the halfa’s position didn’t stop Skulker from hunting him for sport now and then. “Listen, me choosing you has nothing to do with your personal feelings about me. You’re really the only one I could send to guide the witches through the Ghost Zone.” 

“Nice to know I’m so easily disposable…” Skulker quipped sarcastically. “Why not ask your canine companion for help?”

“Come on, you really think I could send Cujo to do this job?” Danny asked, unamused. 

“I was actually talking about Wulf, given he’s the only ghost capable of creating portals.” Skulker met his expression with a raised eyebrow of his own. “I can’t believe you’d actually mix them up.”

Danny actually flushed at that, “W-well…Some ghosts have so many things in common, i-it’s a little bit hard to follow without enough...details…”

The hunter took offence to that. Huffing, he shot the halfa a glare. “Well, excuse us for ‘having so many things in common’”, he air-quoted for emphasis, “not all of us can manifest into the body of a human youth, whelp!”

Exasperated, Danny ran a hand through his hair, sighing through his nose. “I still can’t believe Ember hasn’t dumped you yet…” he muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately for him, Skulker heard him just fine. “Says the boy who hasn’t had a girlfriend since he was fourteen.” Seeing the ghost boy’s offended expression plastered a smirk on his face.

“Why you littleー!” Danny stopped himself before he’d lose his cool. If dealing with Skulker, a ghost he’d known since he was fourteen, was proving to be frustrating, he didn’t want to think how meeting up with the queen of a feuding tribe would be like. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gave it one last try. “Look, Skulker. As much as I’d love to bicker with you like an old married couple all day, we really don’t have time for this. You’re here because you’re one of the most versatile ghosts I know. If there’s anyone capable of handling a group of spellcasting, broom-riding, black-cat-owning ladies, that’s you.”

Before the metallic spectre could so much as get a word in, the young Ghost King leapt into the air after making a show of looking at his ーinexistentー watch. “Oh, look at the time! The witches will be here any minute now. Better hurry back into the Ghost Zone. See ya!” With a mock salute thrown at Sulker’s general direction, he was gone in a blur of black and white. 

The hunter was about to take off after him when, from  the corner of his eyes, he noticed three cloaked figures approaching. Well, he sighed in defeat, it’s showtime.

Sam arched a questioning eyebrow at the ghost standing on the appointed place. He looked like the lovechild of Terminatra, one her favourite monsters of all time, and a G.I. Joe. With a flaming mohawk worthy of the Ghost Rider himself. In a way, she guessed it was fitting. Her lip curled in disgust when she eyed the arrangement of weapons strapped to his person; a hunter, no doubt. 

If the Ghost King expected to scare her and her guards with such a pathetic display, he had another thing coming. Any other would be at the very least intimidated by the ghost’s burly figure and his imposing aura, but to women who battled grotesque creatures resulting from spells gone wrong on a daily basis, that was nothing.

After getting the approval of the Council for her “little expedition”, Sam recruited two witches: Susan Zhou and Stephanie Baker. To an outsider, taking only two other people with her to face such a powerful entity as Danny Phantom, in unknown territory, no less, would seem foolish, even suicidal. But Sam was no outsider; she knew exactly what she was doing. 

Susan was Wilhelmina’s apprentice, and therefore, the clan’s next Ministre of War and master potion-maker once her mentor passed down the mantle to her. Short in height, tall in ambition, the Asian girl’s brown eyes were calculating and, if you were foolish enough to cross her, unforgiving; but full of warmth and mischief if she considered you a friend. She held her black and red-dyed hair in a pair of identical buns, one on each side of her head. Susan always favoured comfortable clothing most people would dedicate solely for doing exercise; you never knew when you’d have to exert yourself, she always said. 

Despite being only seventeen years old, she already displayed great proficiency in the art of combat, her dexterous fingers useful both for brewing concoctions and sporting weapons. Susan’s family emigrated from China in the early 19th century. After much traveling, they stumbled upon the origins of what would become Amity Park, where the first members of the clan had already settled. Upon finding out the Zhou family weren’t just witches but also warriors, the coven welcomed them with open arms. 

Warrior blood ran through her veins. It was no wonder their war-oriented council member had personally chosen her as her protegée. 

Stephanie, however, was more of an intellectual. The 21-year-old woman was an avid reader who spent most of her time holed up inside the manor’s archives, where the spell books and records on their clan’s history were stored. The only other person who knew the place better than Stephanie herself was Delilah, who was actually its guardian. But since Sam couldn’t risk leaving her people without a member of the Council, due to her departure being risky enough, she asked Stephanie for help instead. 

In truth, everything about the young woman screamed bookworm. Stephanie was a rather plain-looking girl, with a lanky figure and a long face, whose pale blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of oval-shaped glasses. Her straight, strawberry blond hair reached a little past her shoulders, and she was wearing a purple and white striped t-shirt with an equally purple pencil skirt and white sneakers. 

As soon as they neared the place where the ghost was standing, Sam nodded at him in acknowledgement; a mere formality given her low opinion on the spectre, which, she was sure, was mutual on his behalf. 

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Skulker warned the witches in his care, “No funny business, ladies. Or I might consider reforming my island so I can have more pelts hung on my walls.” He sent them a malicious grin.

While Sam rolled her eyes at the unnecessary threat and Stephanie flinched away from him in fright, Susan bore her teeth in aggravation. “I’d like to see you try, ghost.”

Both teenager and hunter stared the other down, but before they had the chance to jump at each other’s throats and brawl, the Witch Queen raised a placating hand, effectively telling her subject to stand down. Still, Susan would’ve given anything to wipe that smug look from the ghost’s face. 

But Sam really hadn’t the time to keep those two in check. Focusing on the energy within her, she blocked everything around her, every possible distraction, out of her mind. All that mattered was her connection to her anima. Once she felt the familiar tingling of power, she extended a hand: Stephanie’s signal to take the magic  grimoire out of the duffel bag she carried and hand it to her queen with a bow of her head.

Skimming through the pages, Sam stopped when she found what she was looking for. A section of the spell book portraying the silhouette of a person in front of a swirling opal, several runes surrounding it. 

The spell to open up portals.

Once upon a time, any witch would have been able to conjure the spell without the need to check it out in a book, but ever since witches and spectres parted ways, her people no longer had the same use for it anymore. Nowadays, it was an almost forgotten practice. 

Taking a deep breath, Sam extended her free hand in front of her and chanted, “Alium se orbem terrarum ad ianuam.” Soon, a familiar sparkly, violet mist emanated from her fingertips. The manifestation of energy rose into the air until it was the size of an average person, and then began to spin up and down, until a portal was in front of them. 

Stephanie raised a confused eyebrow at Skulker when she thought she heard him mutter something along the lines of, “Show off”, but squeaked and looked away when the hunter lay his own eyes on her. 

Handing the book back to the bestacled girl, Sam motioned for them to enter the portal. What they saw on the other side left them speechless. 

The Ghost Zone was nothing like they had imagined. Instead of a clear difference between earth and sky, their world’s parallel dimension seemed to consist solely of a never ending abyss composed purely by ectoplasm, the most reminiscent thing to a floor it had being a few beat-up pathways made out of rock. 

Floating in mid-air were all sorts of lairs. Some, like a faraway island in the shape of a skull, far more pretentious than others. Judging by how scarce those were in comparison to the countless doors with no building to be attached to in sight, Sam figured the more powerful a ghost was, the bigger its lair would be. 

Which bore the question: what would Danny Phantom’s lair be like?

Sam was snapped out of her thoughts by the ghost hunter suddenly materialising in front of her. Susan was about to unsheathe a few of her most lethal potions when the apparition simply showed them the way with a motion of his hand. “This way.” He turned around and began walking, after a minute or two, though, he turned his head to them, “Oh, and by the way, if any of you is afraid of heights, you’d better not look down.”

Stephanie gazed down, unbidden, and almost fainted. Below them was nothing but an endless abyss, no land on sight. Feeling queasy, she squeaked, “Dutifully noted.”

They walked along the rocky path for what could’ve been hours or mere minutes, the absence of a sun making it difficult to accurately pinpoint the passage of time. After what felt like an eternity, Skulker abruptly stopped, almost making Sam and her entourage bump on him in the process, pointing somewhere in front of him. 

“Well, this is it, ladies. The Ghost King’s lair.”

Standing proudly on top of a drifting piece of land was a brick three-story building. If Sam hadn’t known any better, she’d think she was looking at an apartment complex, rather than a king’s castle. Then again, Skull Island ーas she lovingly nicknamed the placeーwas very tacky for a powerful’s ghost lair, so for all she knew the building before her could be the latest scream in home decor in the Ghost Zone.

While it was a mostly modest space, the highest floor in particular stood out for its large picture windows, which were at least three times bigger than the rest. “That must be Phantom’s chambers”, the violet-eyed girl guessed. “Overseeing your subjects, eh, your Majesty?”

When they arrived at the door, they were momentarily startled when it opened on its own accord. The Witch Queen scoffed at her own ridiculous behaviour; she’d seen and done way scarier things on Halloween, for fuck’s sake! Once inside, Skulker guided them through several corridors, taking so many turns in so many different directions it was enough to render anyone disoriented. As they strode down the halls, Sam took notice of how...sterile the lair was. Most walls were bare of any decorations, at most they’d have some sort of blue wallpaper on. The few walls with paintings hanging from them were decorated by rather impersonal portraits: a picture of an ectoplasm swirl here, a portrait of a shapeless ghost there… Instead of a castle interior, this looked more like a cheap Halloween haunted house. 

The place was so barren that she noticed the shift immediately. Suddenly, before her were two large, mahogany doors, which, once again, opened without any exterior help, revealing the throne room.

While still impersonal, the space was much grander in every single sense of the word. Granite, Corinthian columns stood proudly on the sidelines. Several tapestries depicting what Sam could only guess was Danny Phantom’s battle against Pariah Dark and a few other adventures she couldn’t recognise hung from the ceiling. Right in front of them a red velvet carpet was rolled down until it reached the throne itself ーa rather modest metal chair with black velvet upholsteryー where the infamous Ghost King was seated on. 

Upon their arrival, the ghostly monarch stood up in respect. “At least he’s not arrogant enough to forsake manners”, Sam quipped internally. Standing at both sides of him were a bipedal, arctic-wolf like creature with an arm encased in ice, and a blue spectre wearing a hooded outfit, a sceptre in hand, whose physical form was constantly fluctuating between child, adult, and old man. 

As the Queen and her companions neared the throne, and hence, the so-called Hero of Amity Park, she took him in. Snow white hair, glowing green eyes that appeared capable of staring right through you, a black and white hazmat suit over a well-built physique… Yep, in front of her was Danny Phantom, alright. 

The only thing making it obvious that she would be addressing the Ghost King instead of the most controversial public figure in town was a very minor, yet significant, change in his appearance. 

Draped over his shoulders was a cape, white on the outside and black on the inside, with two verdigris medallions which had engraved that wretched logo of his keeping the garment in place with the help of a chain. Resting on his shock white hair, reflecting the item’s otherworldly glow, was the Crown of Fire; its green embers burning almost as intensely as the Phantom’s radioactive green eyes. The crown’s partner, the Ring of Wrath, surrounded his white, gloved ring finger. One could feel the raw power emanating from its green material. The mere sight of the engraved skull and its unforgiving, blood red, ruby eyes was enough to send anyone subjected to it running. 

But there was no way Sam would ever run away after making it this far. 

Danny observed patiently as the Witch Queen and her two companionsーonly two?ー arrived before him. Once they were eye-level (or as eye-level as two people could be when someone was standing over an incline) the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park took off her hood. At the sight before him, Danny had to fight very hard to suppress a sharp inhale in surprise. 

He supposed that, in hindsight, expecting the queen to look like an stereotypical wrinkly old lady was a tad narrow-minded of him, but in all fairness, nothing would’ve prepared him for the person standing right in front of him. 

Upon taking off her hood, silky, raven hair came cascading down until it reached a little past her shoulders, the strands and diamond-shaped fringe framing her heart-shaped face. Smooth, ivory skin contrasted greatly with the mop of hair, black as night, resting on her head. Her full, velvety lips were emphasised by her purple lipstick. And her long, mascara-coated lashes surrounded a pair of amethyst orbs. Those had to be the most tantalising eyes he had ever seen; a galaxy of mystery lay hidden behind their depths. 

Lady Arcana was the kind of woman he would’ve tripped himself over for, back in high school. Now a college student...he might’ve signed up to a couple of classes that had absolutely nothing to do with his degree if it meant seeing her again.

Looking down, and praying to all things above him it wasn’t noticeable, he took notice of what the sorceress was wearing. The Queen was wearing an off-shoulder ball gown, of a pale violet in colour, with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice hugged her body until it flared down into the skirt. Adorning its neckline and hem were embroidered black thorns. Resting on her head lay a silver tiara, with diamond-shaped obsidians running alongside the top ornament, and a noticeably bigger amethyst in its centre. A black and glittery cloak, resembling the night sky, rested atop the young witches’ shoulders.

Beautiful, yet deadly. A clear warning against the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park: get too close, and you will regret it. 

Knowing they had much to discuss, the halfa bowed down before her, with a hand behind his back and the other in front of him, making a flourish, as a sign of respect. “Lady Arcana, it is an honour to have you here.”

Sam and her entourage curtsied in response. “King Phantom, the honour is all mine.”

“I will cut to the chase, since the circumstances are unorthodox enough: my people need your assistance.”

Well, at least he was direct… “And what, exactly, is that which you need help with, your Majesty? As much as I would like to aid you, there is not much I can do without knowing the details.”

“And you are in your right to question that, but first…”

With a motion of his hand, a green-skinned, red-eyed maid wearing a blue dress brought a smaller chair close to the king. When his eyes landed on Sam, she understood that was meant for her. If there was one thing experience had told her, that was that being invited to sit down meant it was going to be a lengthy discussion. 

When Lady Arcana had sat down, Danny continued. “Now, that’s better.” Seeing her unresponsive expression, he cleared his throat nonchalantly. “What we need your help with is the Ghost Zone’s portals.”

The violet-eyed  girl raised a confused eyebrow at that. “The portals?”, Phantom nodded. “But, King Phantom, my people have not had anything to do with your world in centuries! Today was the first time in over three-hundred years that anyone used a spell meant to open portals.”

Leaning forward in an attempt to appear closer and not intimidating, trying to get the witches to underestimate him per Frosbite’s suggestion, Danny explained. “My apologies, your Majesty, I did not mean to imply your people were responsible for the problem. No, what I mean is that only your people can help us control them.”

Sam didn’t understand where this was going. Taking her silence as permission, Danny went on, “As you know, the Ghost Zone has been opening up portals to Earth for millenia, however, many more gates have been opened as of late. Many more than any previous date has ever registered.” Understanding dawning on the queen’s face, Danny pressed. “We wish to ask you to help us close and pinpoint the cause for such bizarre occurrences.”

Sam had mixed feelings about the proposal. On the one hand, random portals opening up was never a good sign; the space-continuum fabric was very delicate. But, on the other hand, her people would gain nothing from it. Nothing but endangering themselves by putting their lives in the hands of ghosts. She had to make sure her trip hadn’t been for nothing and that her people were truly safer for it. 

Resting her elbow on the arm of her chair, her legs crossed in boredom, Sam appraised the apparition before her with a pensive frown. “And how exactly, pray tell, would my people benefit from assisting your kind, your Majesty?”

The way she basically spat the word didn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired half-ghost. He narrowed his eyes on her. “Well, your people,” he snarled in return, “would be safe, of course.”

Sam’s hopes plummeted. He was all talk, just as she feared. ‘Her people would be safe’? Was he threatening her? Please, they were already in danger solely from his knowing of their existence, let alone their headquarters! With a huff, Sam stood up from her chair. The conversation was over. “Thank you for having us, King Phantom. But I am afraid we must depart.”

Although the original plan was to ask them for help and look for alternatives were they to refuse, seeing the queen walking away from him stirred a primal fear in Danny. Somehow, he knew she was the only one who could help him. They were doomed if he let her slip away. “Lady Arcana, wait!”

His frantic call got Sam to stop. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him her full attention. Seeing he had caught her interest, Danny insisted. “When I said your people would be safe, it wasn’t an empty promise: the sudden appearance of portals is a sign that something is amiss. The more portals open, the more unstable our world becomes.” What he said next was chilling enough to elicit goosebumps to run down their spines. “The Ghost Zone is a parallel dimension to Earth, if our realm is destroyed, so is yours.”

Sam’s eyes widened at his words, even Susan couldn’t stifle a startled gasp. If what he was saying was true, then her people were doomed, regardless of how well-kept their secret was. If she refused his proposal, her subjects and the other clans all over the world would pay greatly for her mistake. However…

Her gaze hardened, determination motivating her actions once again. In the off chance that Phantom was only making things up to get her to agree, she needed to ensure her people wouldn’t pay for her mistake. And there was only one way to do it. 

Taking firm steps, she walked resolutely to where the green-eyed spirit stood. Staring deep into his eyes, she made her counterproposal. “Very well, I shall help you with your problem.” 

Before Danny could let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Lady Arcana spoke up again. “But in return for my services you must ensure my people’s safety. Under no circumstances will anyone discover our existence or whereabouts. We already have to deal with a witch huntress coming after us.” She could’ve sworn the king choked at that. “If I find out our way of living has been compromised in any way, you and your kingdom are all alone. Now,” she extended her hand for him to shake, “do we have a deal, King Phantom?”

Danny eyed her suspiciously. Her violet eyes simultaneously held a fiery temper and cold determination, even with his powers, he could sense there’d be Hell to pay if he didn’t keep his part of the deal. Then again, everything they’d ever known was in danger, even if the Queen couldn’t care less for the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants, and her request was what any sensible and caring leader would ask for. On paper it looked like the perfect compromise…

He just hoped he didn’t come to regret it.

Holding the witch’s hand in a firm grip, he shook hands with her. “We have a deal, Lady Arcana.”

[letapollojusticesayfuck]

fuck it, Klapollo Camp Rock AU (where I change like half the plot to make it fit the characters better lmao)

Apollo and Trucy are Phoenix’s adopted kids; Phoenix has a catering business and gets hired last-minute to cater the food at Camp Rock

Trucy’s 12 and has been dying to go to the camp since she read about it on the Gavinners fan forums--they’re her favorite band and that’s where they got their start. She’s hoping to eventually start a magic-themed band where she integrates magic tricks into their stage performances

Apollo’s 19 and really does not want to spend his summer at some music camp--he’s not a fan of being onstage or performing at all, though he knows guitar and has a notebook full of songs he’s written over the years. He’s not sure they’re any good, but they’re personal and they’re his.

(He’d also been planning on spending his summer going on an epic road trip with his best friend Clay, before Clay found out he got into an intern program at GYAXA and they had to abandon that idea--leaving Apollo at loose ends for the summer)

Phoenix insists that both Trucy and Apollo come to the camp with him and help out--Trucy gets to participate in camp activities, and Apollo’s supposed to be a counselor who can sit in on some classes if he wants. Trucy’s thrilled; Apollo less so.

Meanwhile, there’s been some drama within the Gavinners--amidst rumors of unruly behavior and accounts of an uncooperative, pop-diva attitude, Klavier Gavin is unwillingly pushed into spending his summer taking some time off from the band and acting as a guest teacher at Camp Rock, under the supervision of his former mentor and owner of the camp, Miles Edgeworth

Shortly after arriving at camp, it becomes very obvious that Phoenix and Miles already know each other--and Apollo and Trucy start wondering if they’re going to have to start making bets about if they’re going to have a new dad by the end of the summer

Trucy finds a group of friends to fall in with almost immediately--she ends up moving into a cabin with Athena, Pearl, and Juniper Woods

Meanwhile, Apollo’s stuck having to live with Phoenix in the staff cabins--and having to go through camp counselor orientation, where he meets fellow disgruntled counsellors Ema and Kay, who he bonds with over mutual distaste for having to supervise a bunch of kids with ~musical dreams~

(Kay got drafted into being a camp counselor by Edgeworth, who’s not quite her dad but who might as well be. She dragged Ema along because they’re dating and Ema needed a job to help with her grad school debts--studying forensics isn’t cheap!)

Sometime during the nebulous time period before camp Officially Begins, Apollo’s helping clean the dining hall and takes a break to chill and play some guitar and hash out one of his newest song ideas

While he’s doing this, Klavier just so happens to walk past the open window, on his way back from trying to argue with Edgeworth that he’d had a world tour planed for this summer, and what if the fans forget about him? He’s gotta get out of here!

Klavier’s entranced by Apollo’s singing--who is this mysterious singer with the fantastic voice and incredible music composition skills? He runs into the dining hall, only to find an empty room and a guitar propped up against the wall--no trace of the person who’d been playing

But Klavier can’t get the song out of his head--and so he vows that, before the summer’s end, he’s going to find out who was singing

The first time Apollo meets Klavier properly, he does not get the best first impression of the rockstar--Klavier’s supposed to be teaching a class about song composition and music theory, but he basically goes at it with the least enthusiasm possible and uses a bunch of technical terms that go way over the heads of the group of 12-to-14-year-olds Apollo’s supervising (including Trucy et al.)

Somewhere in here, Trucy finds out that Apollo has literally no idea who Klavier is, despite her having been obsessed with the Gavinners for at least three years now. She makes fun of him mercilessly.

Apollo ends up making some snarky comments about Klavier’s teaching ability to Ema, and Klavier overhears

The next time they encounter each other, Apollo’s moving some baking supplies from the storage into the kitchen, and Klavier stops him halfway--he asks Apollo what his problem with him is, and Apollo tells him straight--he thinks Klavier is acting way too high-and-mighty and not letting the kids have any fun in his classes. He chides him for his perfectionist attitude, telling him that the camp isn’t about putting together the perfect performance, it’s about learning and making mistakes and having fun.

(He’s mostly saying this because Trucy was really upset that she couldn’t follow the lesson the other day, and spent days stressing about how this might mean that she can’t be a real musician magician, and Apollo’s basically gonna defend Trucy with his life, even if he himself doesn’t want to be at camp)

Apollo asks Klavier about his experience at camp--surely everything wasn’t about being perfect the whole time back then?

He leaves Klavier to think about that and gets back to his errands--and Klavier does take Apollo’s words into account

During his next lesson, Klavier actually plans a kind of fun, hands-on activity, and Apollo’s surprised (and kind of touched, honestly)

They end up hanging out a lot more during their free time, after that, and realize they actually get along pretty well

Meanwhile, there’s background Narumitsu shenanigans going on where Phoenix and Miles keep having emotionally charged moments over really mundane things, like double-checking the food supplies and confirming the amount of music-themed cupcakes to be made for the weekly Music Event

Trucy and her group of friends are working to put together a performance for the Final Jam at the end of the summer--it’s just been announced that the winner of the Final Jam contest will get to record a song with Klavier, and it’s basically a guaranteed jump-start to their career

They’ve got stiff competition--(though I haven’t decided from who yet, OOPS, lmao--open to suggestions! Who’s around their age and Mean? Bonny and Betty DeFamme, perhaps?)

Apollo has no plans to participate in the Final Jam at all--again, he doesn’t like performing onstage in front of a bunch of people who are going to judge him

HOWEVER--the rival group to Trucy’s plot a scheme--they’re going to frame Trucy and her friends for masterminding a sabotage of the competition! Whoever the “leader” of this group is plants evidence around Trucy’s cabin and drags Edgeworth into it to investigate--though Edgeworth believes that Trucy and her friends are being set up, his hands are tied--the rival group have Connections and famous family members, and the camp’s already struggling financially. He can’t afford to have these rich parents pull their support

And so, Trucy and her group are banned from performing--until the end of the Final Jam. 

Obviously, Apollo and Phoenix are outraged. Phoenix goes to confront Miles about it, and finds out about the financial situation--and Apollo asks Trucy if there’s anything he can do

And Trucy sees an Opportunity--because she’s Noticed Apollo and Klavier spending time together

She asks Apollo to perform at the Final Jam on her behalf, and Apollo, although kind of uncomfortable with the idea, agrees, because he wants to make his sister feel better, and if he’s got to face his fears to do it...well, he’s going to do it for her, even if he makes a fool of himself

Meanwhile, Klavier’s been trying and failing to find out who his mystery singer from the start of the summer is--and he’s running out of time. 

And Then...

it’s the Final Jam!

A bunch of performers perform various musical numbers, and they’re all pretty good

Klavier is one of the judges, along with the rest of the Gavinners and Miles Edgeworth

Apollo actually hadn’t technically entered the competition during the designated sign-up period, so he’s not on the official program--he gets announced as a surprise late entry, and Klavier is taken aback

because he had no idea that Apollo could sing, or play an instrument, or anything--Apollo had basically just made out that he was here against his will and got dragged into this to help out his dad, Phoenix

So Apollo walks out onstage, looking very awkward and holding his guitar, and all eyes are on him

and Klavier recognizes the guitar, doesn’t he? It’s the guitar that was in the dining hall, that first day

But wouldn’t that mean...?

And then Apollo starts playing, and he opens his mouth to sing, and from the very first notes, Klavier knows this is it

This is the song! 

Anyway, he’s stunned, shocked, until without realizing it, he’s stumbled up, grabbed a microphone, and he’s onstage, singing along with Apollo in a Dramatic Duet(TM)

Apollo’s also stunned--he’s spent the entire summer listening to Klavier lament about his mysterious singer that he’s trying to find, and this song that he’s never gotten out of his head (that Apollo never actually got to hear, come to think of it...), and it turns out that in the end...he was Klavier Gavin’s mystery muse?

They finish the song, and Edgeworth announces that that’s it--it’s the end of Final Jam!

The judges go away to tally the scores, and...what’s this?

The curtains go up, the lights turn on, and it’s a surprise performance, from Trucy, Pearl, Athena, and Junie!

They get to play the song they’ve been working on all summer, and it’s a hit--surprisingly good for a bunch of kids between 12 and 14!

(Trucy’s integrated magic tricks and it looks Super Cool)

The votes come in, and...

turns out Apollo got disqualified for the fact that Klavier ended up singing with him, oops

(He’s secretly glad--he didn’t really want to get roped into more public performances with Klavier)

The winner actually ends up being Vera Misham, who’d entered with a heartfelt ballad set against a backdrop of her own drawings

But Trucy’s made a bunch of new friends and got to surprise everyone with her magic/music combo!

And Apollo meets up with Klavier out by the lake, after the show, to talk things over

because really, Klavier spent an entire summer pining after him?

And Klavier’s like, “Wow, I’m an idiot, I spent the entire summer torn between hoping I’d find this mysterious singer who stole my heart right at the start, and wanting to get to know you more--and it turns out you’re one and the same, and all my worrying was for nothing.”

to which Apollo responds: “You’re sure you’re not...disappointed? Because I’m just...me, and I don’t really want to be a performer, and I’m really not that cool, and--”

Klavier cuts him off: “Nein, don’t talk like that! You are perfect, exactly as you are--and I can’t tell you how happy I am that it’s you”

And Apollo lets himself believe Klavier, and they just smile at each other with these stupid huge grins on their faces, standing out on the dock on the lake, before Apollo finally decides that fuck he’s gonna go for it

and he kisses Klavier, right there, arms wrapped around his neck so he doesn’t go falling over with the combo of standing on a dock and standing on his tiptoes so he can reach

They only break apart when they’re interrupted by the sound of raucous applause from the bushes by the shore--

where Trucy and her band were watching, and they cheer them on

(Apollo turns exactly as red as his signature hoodie, and even Klavier is hard-pressed to just laugh it all off)

Klavier and Apollo make sure that they’ve got each others’ contact details, and confirm that yes, they want to try this dating thing, even though they’re both going to be pretty busy and not in the same place

The only thing left is to get all packed and ready to go home--so Klavier walks Apollo (and Trucy) back to the cabin Apollo shares with Phoenix--

--only to walk in on Phoenix and Miles finally having gotten their acts together, making out on the couch.

(Trucy wins a lot of money that night, and everyone at the camp learns definitively not to enter into bets with her)

In the end--Trucy’s got lifelong friends and promising feedback that her music/magic idea is gonna work out; Apollo’s got a boyfriend and more confidence in his songwriting abilities; Klavier’s also got a boyfriend and learned that it’s important to not forget what’s fun about making music; and Phoenix and Miles found each other again after Several Years Apart (and later decide that they’re going to try running the camp together--but that’s something that’s not immediate).

Vera gets to record her song with Klavier; and Kay and Ema actually end up having a pretty good summer, despite their cynical outlooks at the start (and Kay’s attempts at stirring up mischief)

fin.

[hellsbellschime]

Ok, so I’ve always noticed some of the racism on TVD , most notably the treatment of Marcel and Emily, and the founders day parade episode (which, as a Virginian I have to say that the episode made me low-key ashamed when I re-watched it years later). But it took me a while to catch onto the racism on Bonnie‘s character. I was wondering if you have done a meta about it and could link me to it, or if you could do one?

Well it only took me like a year but here ya go!

Despite the fact that The Vampire Diaries is a show that was ostensibly created for girls and young women, the show undeniably seems to lack a certain level of respect or basic interest in its female characters. And while every single significant female character demonstrates that misogynistic point of view in one way or another, one of the most unique, distinct, and apparent instances of The Vampire Diaries' sexism is on peak display with one of it's leading female characters, Bonnie Bennett.

Bonnie obviously occupies a particularly interesting role in the series because she's the only black leading character, and it's also hard to miss that The Vampire Diaries universe has a pretty apparent issue with it's non-white characters as well.

The race problem on TVD expresses itself in a few different, extremely blatant ways. The most obvious issue with people of color on The Vampire Diaries is that those who are actually PoC within the narrative itself are typically pushed to the sidelines and relegated to supporting players at best, but there is also an issue with presenting PoC performers who are white-passing as white characters.

None of the PoC characters in The Vampire Diaries get very good treatment, but the series seems to be exceptionally problematic when it comes to its presentation of black characters. While black people arguably get more representation than any other non-white characters in this fictional world, they are almost all outrageously attractive, extremely light-skinned, and conveniently lacking in any emotional needs or inner life that needs to be addressed within the narrative, seemingly designed to show up, perform whatever service is necessary, and once again fade into the background if not just be killed off entirely.

This is an issue with every black character in the series, but given that Bonnie is the most significant and prominent in the series, it comes as no surprise that she was affected the most intensely by these biases. It's one thing to be a black character, it's one thing to be a female character, but being a black female character in the TVD universe is exceptionally crippling. But how exactly did the misogynoir of The Vampire Diaries completely neutralize Bonnie Bennett as a character?

Bonnie was mistreated, dismissed, and outright ignored in many big and small ways throughout the course of the show. But, a lot of that treatment can be pretty easily sorted into a few categorizations. The Vampire Diaries went through a pretty seismic shift from the start of the show to the end, but it has always been a series that falls primarily into two genres, the supernatural thriller genre and the romance genre.

The show pretty clearly transformed from a show that was firstly a supernatural story with a romantic subgenre into an almost entirely romantic story with a supernatural backdrop, but it's safe to say that the vast majority of the plotlines were either focused on magic or love. And, it's not particularly difficult to see how Bonnie was forcibly excluded from a predominant storyline in each genre, even when it made absolutely no sense.

Bonnie was a completely inexperienced witch at the start of TVD, so her cluelessness and powerlessness made a certain amount of sense at that point. But by the end of season 2 at the very latest, it seems fully established that she is one of the most powerful living witches in the world, and for the bulk of the series it is plainly acknowledged that she is one of the most powerful witches who ever lived. Which is exactly why Bonnie's position in the narrative is baffling.

In quite a few instances, Bonnie's magical abilities seem to be somewhat inconsistent, at least in the sense that, if she can solve some of the biggest problems that the Mystic Falls gang is confronted with, then it's very odd that she can't solve the others. And while plenty of characters in TVD are occasionally used as plot devices rather than characters, Bonnie seems to be the one who is specifically designed to show up, fix what needs fixing, and then become set dressing once she's no longer necessary as the mystical solution to every unsolvable issue.

And this is actually a significant problem with the witches at large, but of course is most recognizable with Bonnie because she is the most prominent witch. While not all witches are women of color, it seems like they are far more represented in that faction of the magical world than in any other. So then, it's interesting that the witches are presented as servants of nature who are meant to selflessly restore order to the world without actually using their abilities for their own personal gain.

Of course there are plenty of witches who appear to use their powers for themselves, but still, it's incredibly meaningful that the lone black main character in the series is constantly sacrificing herself for the sake of the otherwise entirely white cast of characters. It's even more meaningful that she seems to willingly put herself in the line of fire every time, and it's also extremely telling that she suffers and even dies without complaint for the sake of other people.

And while TVD has never been the kind of show to linger on emotional moments for too long, Bonnie seems to stick out like a sore thumb in this circumstance as well. Most of the main and even supporting characters have moments where their pain is acknowledged and at least has a second to breathe, but there are quite a few situations where Bonnie should be upset but isn't, or where her emotional journey as a character literally takes place off screen.

This lack of acknowledgment and nearly complete omission of an internal emotional life that doesn't involve sacrificing herself for her friends only further makes Bonnie feel like a plot device instead of a character. And, while no character needs a romantic relationship to make their character complete, it is incredibly relevant that, on a series that was built largely on a foundation of romance and arguably became a completely romantically driven show by its end, only one of the female leads was pretty much never presented as a viable love interest.

Nearly every character is either threatened or charmed into doing what someone else wants them to at some point during The Vampire Diaries, however, Bonnie's charm-to-threaten ratio seems to lean very heavily in favor of threatening. That in itself wouldn't necessarily be a huge issue, but it seems to punish Bonnie in a way that is so severe that it's completely illogical.

Trying to intimidate Elena or Caroline, people who at best have the strength of a baby vampire and at worst are as powerful as a normal human, makes sense. But trying to strongarm the most powerful witch in the world instead of just convincing her to do what you ask seems like an incredibly dangerous and completely baffling decision.

And yet, that is how Bonnie is forced to do nearly everything that she doesn't want to do in eight seasons of the series. By the end of season 2, TVD has canonically confirmed that Bonnie is powerful enough to destroy Klaus Mikaelson, and yet people like Klaus, Katherine, and even vampires as young as Damon get Bonnie to do things by simply bullying or even assaulting her into doing it. And what does Bonnie typically do in response? Absolutely nothing.

At a certain point, the consistent contrast between Bonnie's mystical strength and the way that people treat her in order to use that strength becomes a pretty gaping plot hole. And while it's not unheard of for someone to try to sweet talk Bonnie into joining their team, it is almost always done by a character who is far less powerful than she is and who is completely irrelevant to the narrative at large.

In contrast to characters like Elena and Caroline, the distinction between them becomes even more obvious. Perhaps a thin argument could be made that because Elena is a doppelganger that makes her a tad more unique, but when one of the most powerful creatures on the planet was wrapped around Caroline's finger, it really begs the question, why wasn't anyone ever as invested or even obsessed with Bonnie as they were with the other two female leads on the series?

After all, Elena's love was consistently treated as if it was the greatest prize that anyone could possibly win, and the two male leads were completely obsessed with her and willing to do anything they could to try to win her over. And despite the fact that Elena was at the center of the love triangle that was a significant driving force behind the story for the entire series, she still managed to score a few love interests that weren't Salvatores throughout the show's eight seasons as well.

And, while Caroline was actually treated as more of the reject love interest in comparison to the unattainable Elena, her record with romance is also incredibly varied. Even though she was portrayed at best as the consolation prize and at worst the abuse victim, she did have some sort of romantic relationship with the two male leads in the show. Or at least, that is how The Vampire Diaries chose to portray it.

In addition to her horrorshow with Damon and her incredibly brief marriage with Stefan, Caroline is also a love interest for Klaus, Matt, Tyler, and disgustingly, Alaric. Arguably the only main male character who doesn't serve as Caroline's love interest or potential love interest at any point is Jeremy.

Although this laundry list of love interests can be partially excused by the fact that Caroline is characterized as someone who wants to date a lot, the contrast bet0ween characters like Caroline and Elena and characters like Bonnie is astonishing.

Over a nearly decade-long run, Bonnie's only legitimate leading men are Jeremy, Elena's kid brother who Bonnie will willingly die for but who also prefers a literal dead person over her at one point, and Enzo, her epic love romance that comes about at the very end of the series in a relationship that almost entirely develops off-screen.

Of course, female characters do not need love interests to validate their characterization or very existence, however in an environment where every single barely significant supporting character seems to get at least two love interests, it's incredibly telling that Bonnie Bennett gets two important love stories in eight seasons of storytelling.

It seems even more relevant that the show seemingly went out of its way to sidestep almost any and all opportunities for romance in Bonnie's character arc. Whether it was Kol, Kai, or Damon Salvatore, there were quite a few instances where there was a clear and easy route to develop a love interest for Bonnie in a way that made sense and had a pretty solid amount of audience support, and yet the series always went out of its way to avoid it.

In stark contrast, Caroline is still seen as a viable option for a burgeoning love story when she's pregnant, and Elena is an acceptable love interest when she's literally unconscious. And yet, in a series that began with romance as its secondary genre and that evolved into a romance series with a supernatural backdrop, Bonnie is supposedly not as appealing of a love interest as Elena and Caroline regardless of any circumstances, no matter how insane.

If these issues existed in a vacuum then they might be excusable, but considering how poorly The Vampire Diaries treated its female characters and black characters, it's pretty much impossible to avoid the reality that Bonnie Bennett's entire character arc was likely hamstrung by the fact that she was a black girl.

In any reasonable circumstances, Bonnie would have arguably been at the center of every single supernatural storyline, and she logically would have been a far more appealing love interest to any powerful characters in the series. But instead she spent the vast majority of her screentime with her inner characterization ignored, her personal development unexplored, and serving as little more than a glorified deus ex machina who didn't even want her friends to bother mourning her when she literally sacrificed her life for them.

Representation was always an issue in The Vampire Diaries universe, and unfortunately it seems like Bonnie was the definition of their token black character. Although the series had eight entire years to course correct and had many seasons where they were desperate for new ideas and decent character development, the racism and misogyny of the series seemingly prevented them from ever tapping into the enormous untapped potential of someone who should have been one of their flagship lead characters.

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 11

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: Language, Bullying Themes

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Eyup my Loves! so it’s been a while since I last added to the story, I tried my best to keep my writing similar to my previous chapters, let me know what you all think! any advice or constructive criticism is welcome :) I’ll shush now, enjoy!

(This is what I Imagine Annetta to look like :) )

So, in case you were all wondering, the day didn’t get any better. I mean I kinda knew that kids my age could be massive A holes to each other, but I didn’t really expect to see it literally the flipping second I ‘walked’ through the doors. And by walked I mean dragged by the duo known as my own personal demons, or Steve and Bucky to the rest of the population.  A crowd of kids were all gathered around a row of lockers, loads of the shitheads were cheering and encouraging whatever the hell was goin’ on, and as I was about to find out it wasn’t a surprise performance by Frank Sinatra. Safe to say that was a bigger disappointment that diet coke. Anyway, what was I saying ? oh yeah, stood at the front of the crowd were a bunch of lasses that couldn’t of been older than 16, in their hands was a bunch of eggs and flour. At the bottom of their feet, on the floor, was a kid around the same age as me, her glasses were snapped in half and the bottom of to shirt was ripped, but what disgusted me the most was the fact she was begging for help as these girls smashed egg after egg into her face. You know how bulls lose their shit when they see somethin’ red? Yeah imagine that but 10x worse, the lads didn’t have time to stop me as I tore through the crowd ready to beat the ever-loving shit outta these pricks.

“‘OI! WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT ARE YOU DOIN’”  the crowd fell silent as the girls turned to me with what one can only assume was supposed to be a ‘threatening’ glare, if I’m being completely honest it looked like they’d all simultaneously crapped em self’s. One of the girls stepped forwards, she was only a tad taller than me, her hair was a bright red, her green eyes were narrowed at me like she couldn’t believe someone was actually talking back to her. I think this is the part where I yell surprise right ? no? okay then. “Not that I care, but who the hell do you think you are? You got any idea who I am?” she sneered at me, oh my god! I’ve found someone with a bigger ego than Bucky. How in the hell is that possible. “well from first glance I’da said Santa Clause’s ex-wife but I reckon he’d have a better taste in girls now I’ve seen you up close”. And que the outraged gasps from her minions in 3,2,1…. I could hear a few people laughin’ and if I weren’t mistaken a very loud “Oh Jesus wept” from barney boy. Oooh yeah that’s when I know I’m doing my job right.

“YOU BITCH!” she screamed at me, her grubby little hands started swinging towards me in such an exaggerated way it was almost funny, I mean come on anyone coulda seen that comin’ from a mile off. And like the genius I am, I literally just side stepped her as she lunged forward,  an’ from the look on her face she weren’t expecting that, it was like the world slowed down as she surged forward unable to stop herself. Well that was till she landed head -first in the bin. I’d be a big fat liar if I said I wasn’t on the floor dying from laughter. Her legs were flailing above her head as she struggled to pull herself outta there, her cronies tried to help by grabbing her legs but that ended with one of em sporting one heck of a shiner on her right eye. A small sniffle pulled my attention away from the rather hilarious sight, glancing behind me I saw the young lass still on the ground, holdin’ her glasses which were in half with tears rolling down her cheeks. “hey, it’s okay now, they’ve gone. Here take my hand, lets get ya cleaned up eh? Reckon they’re be a bathroom round here somewhere”. The lass didn’t say anything to me, only looking at me with apprehension before taking my outstretched hand and leading us to the bathroom, the sound of the crowd growing quieter as we moved further away from it. “Thanks for saving me from Monica, she’s been bullying me since we were 11, nobody’s ever stood up for me before.” Her voice was so quiet, it shook from the effort it took her to hold back her tears, and I admired her strength, not a lotta girls woulda gone this long and not tell a teacher. “Don’t worry about it mate, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to defend ya, my names y/n by the way, don’t think we’ve met” her brown eyes met mine, as a small smile spread across her face, I couldn’t really tell what colour her hair was but I’m guessing it’s a shade a brown,  other than that she looked like a completely normal person. “My names Annetta, you’re right we ain’t met yet but I’m glad we did”.

-Later that day

It took us ‘bout 30 minutes to get all the egg off Annetta, best we could do was wash it off and cover up the stains with the cardigan I leant her, but what really put the icing on the cake was the teacher in period 1 yellin’ at us for being so late. The temptation to yeet my shoe at someone had never been as strong as it was in that moment, fortunately for the overgrown turnip of a teacher I had to settle for a mean ass side eye. And man was it a mean one.

Apart from that the day had gone by with no more incidents, well unless you count me chasing Bucky round the canteen with a carton of milk for stealin’ half my lunch, much to Annetta’s entertainment and Steve’s embarrassment. I mean the butthole deserved it, nobody and I mean NOBODY messes with my lunch. Even blue-eyed boys with a smile that could charm the devil….what am I sayin’?!

ANYWAYS it’s now what? 4th period I think, which meant English with Annetta, and maybe my favourite boys in the world. Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. Bet ya thought I were gonna say Steve and Bucky right? Well they’re currently sat behind me debating who’d win in a fight, Popeye, or Bugs Bunny. I’m surrounded by idiots. Thankfully, the teacher walked into the classroom and saved me, Mrs Davis seemed like a nice woman, she had a friendly smile and roundish face, her hair tied back into a neat bun as she took a seat. Now I’ll save you the boring bits, she started the lesson with a pop quiz which was just plain rude, about halfway through it the door burst open and there stood my best friend in the entire world. Monica. I have to say I loved her new style, the schools P.E kit really brought out the judgement in her eyes, did you detect my sarcasm yet?.

You wanna know what made her entrance even more dramatic ? the lovely aroma of gone off milk and rotted banana skins that followed her around the room,  I could help the smirk on my face as everyone around me started gagging at the smell. If you ask me I reckon it’s an improvement, I mean she certainly captures the attention of everyone in the room. Monica’s face started to match her hair, quickly racing over to Mrs Davis to give her the tardy slip before taking her seat which just had to be across from me, whoopee for me. Eventually Mrs Davis got the attention back to her, carrying on with her lesson, which moved onto matching up the famous English literature quotes with the character and book. To be fair this was actually a load of fun for me, even if Steve butchered a line from Romeo and Juliet, I don’t remember Shakespeare saying, ‘ A rose by any other name would smell as bad’. The way I banged my head on the table made Annetta think I broke my neck. Fun times people.

Of course, my reaction didn’t escape Mrs Davis’s attention, just my luck eh?. “Miss y/n, seeing as you seem to know everything, answer me this. Elizabeth Bennet is a main character in a well-known book, she’s known for the quote ‘I am a no bird and no net ensnares me. I am a free human being with an independent will’. The question is who is the author of this book is it A) Charles Dickens B) Jane Austen or C) Arthur Conan Doyle ?”. Is she being for real right now?. “Miss? With no disrespect the question itself is wrong, that wasn’t said by Elizabeth Bennet from pride and Prejudice, but said by Jane Eyre, and it was written by Charlotte Brontë”. A small smile spread across her face, which was confusing as all heck and a tad creepy to be honest, “very well-done Miss y/n, that’s the first time a student has gotten that question correct.”……

What in the name of ever-loving fluff just happened?….

So our girl is back and kicking butt! hopefully it’s not as bad as I think it is, and again I want to thank you all again for being so patient with me, good news is I’ve got the rest of the book written already! I’ll be posting them at least once a week.

Lots of love,

Rose xxx

[chairismaticchair]

Star Crossed Enemies

Happy Holidays @yellowartistsunshine ! @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Summary:  When two rival theatre majors get cast as the leads in "Romeo and Juliet", something blossoms between them. Something beautiful.

This is Roceit, there are some swears. I had lots of fun writing this, especially since this was my first roceit fic!

If Roman despised a single person in the world with all his body and soul, that would be Janus Taylor. He hated how snagging lead roles in plays and musicals always became a fight between them. He hated how smug Janus constantly acted. He hated his stupidly posh accent that was only really obvious when he was on stage performing Shakespeare. He hated how he couldn't have any straight (not that it was possible with Roman any other way) or slightly logical conversation with Janus. He hated him, from the tip of his dumb black beanie, to the soles of his beige loafers. Overall, he hated Janus.

Whenever they passed in the college, there would be a flurry of middle fingers and middle-school-grade insults like "shit head" and "dumbass" thrown about with as much malice as two theatre majors could. They seemed to lose all common sense when in the mere vicinity of each other, instead becoming caricatures of theatre rivals. Arguably, that was exactly what they were.

"Taylor." Roman spat out. "I heard the LGBTQ+ Club's  putting up another play soon. Suppose you're going to want the lead role. But it's mine." He declared, as if no one had expected Roman Diaz Santos to want the lead role. 

Decei - shit sorry, Janus hissed back. "I heard it's gonna be Shakespeare, and guess who always gets Shakespeare roles? Me. Shithead." He added the “shithead” as an afterthought, as if this was his first rivalry and he had almost forgotten rule #315 of the Rivalry Book of Rivals.

They then tossed each other middle fingers like mutual salutes and marched off, heads held up high and refusing to turn back.

"Man, Janus really is a dick isn't he?" Roman complained to his best friend Virgil Teo, who sighed.

"Yes, Roman. Just like the -" He pulled out a notebook and made a little mark. "534 other times you've told me. This year. I don't even know what's that bad about him." 

"Well of course you don't get it. You two dated freshman year. Honestly, I thought you had better taste."

"And I do. That's why we broke up." Virgil slapped Roman's shoulder playfully. "Who are you to insult my dating life? You haven't had a single date since the start of college."

"I've had dates." Roman protested.

"Bad dates, Princey. Those don't count. Maybe you could send it to the Guinness World Records."

Roman gasped in mock annoyance. "How dare you, Virgil.” He gave a wistful sigh. “Anyways, I just want to find my soulmate. They’re out there, I can just feel it. A Juliet or Julien to my Romeo.”

"You're always are full of bullshit, aren't you, Roman?"

---

Patton, a senior, walked up to the front of the leture theatre and tapped the teacher on the shoulder. He whispered something in her ear and the teacher sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose frustratedly. "Hi! The LGBTQ+ Club is putting up two Shakespeare plays for this November! The first one will be a gay Romeo and Juliet, called Romeo and Julien. The other will be a sapphic 'Much Ado about Nothing'. Audition sign ups start next week Monday and end on Friday! Thank you!" Patton was very chirpy for 8 a.m. .

Now, this was when shit hit the fan and our story gets exciting. Roman turned to Virgil enthusiastically. "I'm totally auditioning for Romeo." Meanwhile, all students in the near vicinity who wanted Romeo's role sighed in unison.

Across the lecture theatre, Janus turned to his friend Remus excitedly. "I'm auditioning for Julien! This is gonna be great."

"For fucks sake." Someone in the near vicinity groaned and his friend patted his back sympathetically. 

---

Roman sat outside the auditorium, swinging his feet while waiting for his turn to audition. Walking down the corridor, Janus turned to Roman and picked up the chair beside him. He moved 6 feet away and plopped the chair down.

"So, Santos." He started, staring intensely at the auditorium door.

Roman found his shoes absolutely riveting. "Yeah?"

"What role are you auditioning for?" 

Tapping the side of his chair, Roman said, "The lead one, obviously."

"Oh." Janus paused and turned to look directly at Roman. Sticking out his hand, he gave him a slight smile. "Well may the best one win."

Roman took the hand hesitantly. "Yeah Janus. Break a leg."

---

The large board outside the auditorium was a crowd favourite among students. It was constantly updated with rehearsal times, casting choices and upcoming performances, you know, the classic cool stuff.

Roman and Janus were the first to arrive at the board and glanced at each other before looking down the corridor with longing. 

A boy with big circular wire framed glasses bounded down the corridor, an A4 paper in his hand. He waved excitedly at the two in front of him. "Hi Roman! Hi Janus! Waiting for results?"

The two nodded in synchronisation. 

"Oh, well I got them here!" He got out a stapler and stapled the paper to the board, the sleeves of his turquoise hoodie large and dangly. 

Romeo: Roman Diaz Santos

Julien: Janus Taylor

The two boys turned to each other in horror.

"Y - you mean -"

"You thought-"

"Julien."

"Romeo."

"WAS THE LEAD ROLE?"

The boy, Patton, looked at them in amusement. "Well, you both got main roles, so congrats! Rehearsals start in two weeks and I'll give you guys your scripts tomorrow. Have fun!" 

He patted them both on the back before heading off, skip in his step.

Janus and Roman turned to look at each other in horror once more. 

---

There is a moment in one's life, where they will reflect on everything they have done, and wonder what mistakes they had made to lead them down this path. As Roman flipped through the script Patton had handed him, that was exactly what he was doing. "You mean to say, I have to kiss this - this snake 5 times? Outrageous. Unacceptable."

They sat in a circle, everyone who participated in the play knee against knee. It was far too close for comfort and Roman was probably going to vomit onto the rest of the cast.

Virgil, who was in charge of lights and sound and sitting next to him, smirked. "Princey, this is literally a play about you two in love. 5 kisses are the minimum."

"And I am right here, you know." Janus looked slightly offended, leaning over and looking at Roman, who was a Virgil away. "And I'm not that bad at kissing. Ask Virgil. "

Virgil choked. 

Before Roman could retort, Patton interrupted them. "Okay guys! Don't forget to practice your lines. Rehearsals start in two weeks so I hope you manage to memorise some of your lines."

As they left the auditorium, Roman whispered to Virgil. "Is Janus actually good at kissing?"

Virgil just shrugged.

Patton called after the leaving group. "Roman? Janus? Please get whatever feud is going on between you two and throw it away. You two need to cooperate so that we can all work together. Go bond over the next few days. Thanks!”

Bond? With Janus? Roman never wanted to hear those words in the same sentence ever again. There was an odd creeping feeling that grew in his stomach and crawled up his throat invasively. It was foreign and weird. Maybe an allergic reaction.

“Oy! Janus! We probably have to - to get to know each other better.” Roman could feel heat spreading from his toes all the way to his cheeks. Why was he blushing? He should not be blushing. “So, do you wanna go grab some food tonight?”

Janus’ eyes widened and he physically stepped back. He pointed at Roman, before pointing back at himself. “You? Offering me? Dinner?” 

Roman shot a wink at Janus cheekily, before turning around to hide his blush. What was he doing? He never flirted with his rival. Was that even flirting? Tugging his hair down in a pitiful attempt to hide his burning red ears, he turned to Virgil. 

Virgil wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, before elbowing Roman in the side. “Stepping up your game, Santos? Impressive.” 

Roman blushed even harder, and looked away. 

---

Roman had had his fair share of dates, if that was what you called a dinner like this, and he never knew what to say. He pulled out his best card. 

“So...ya like jazz?” 

Janus choked on his iced lemon tea. "Fucking Bee Movie?” 

“Well, you do wear black and yellow 80% of the time, so you clearly like bees. Ergo, Bee Movie.”

An eyebrow was raised. “Impressive. You almost sound as smart as Logan.”

“I wish. He’s an absolute genius.” Logan was studying law, would probably become the valedictorian, and was dating Patton. Truly a legend.

“What’s your favourite animated movie then?” Janus asked. “Mine certainly is not the Bee Movie. There are loads of better Dreamworks films. I love Megamind."

“Oh, Megamind is really good! Choosing a favourite… that’s so hard though!” Roman bounced in his seat. Another movie lover? Perhaps, Janus wasn't too bad.  

Janus laughed and the food must have been tainted or something, because Roman’s heart skipped several beats. 

---

“Right! Let’s start at Act 1, Scene 5. You guys are at the party and this is when Romeo meets Julien for the first time. Action.” Patton, perched on the edge of a chair, announced, eyes shining with excitement. 

Roman glanced over at Janus, clad in a hoodie and jeans. He was flipping through his script and mumbling lines to himself. It was their first rehearsal so they were still allowed to look at their scripts. It also happened to be their first kiss scene. Pink tinted Roman's cheeks at the thought. Kiss… Janus? The two words seemed so foreign next to each other, yet they felt as though they were meant to be. He couldn't stop his eyes lingering over Janus' light pink lips. He turned away quickly, glancing at his script. Romeo kisses Julien.

Romeo.

Kisses.

Julien.

Shaking his head, he looked up at the people on stage, waiting for his cue. He had to stop thinking so much. Thoughts were dangerous. Who knows where they may lead?

Roman wondered what Janus' lips tasted like.

Oh for fucks sake. 

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Roman shoved his face back into the script, mumbling his lines under his breath and waiting for his queue to come on stage.

Stepping onto the stage, he channeled Romeo Shakespearean thoughts. It was a little hard in his button up shirt and jeans, but he was a professional. “What lord is that which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?” He gestured towards Janus. 

A server bowed politely. “I know not, sir.”

“Oh, he doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems he hangs upon the cheek of night. Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. As yonder lord o'er his fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch his place of stand. And, touching his, make blessèd my rude hand.” He spoke to the audience, but couldn’t help think about how accurate this was. Janus too, was really hot. 

Roman spoke some more about how hot Julien was, and the rest of the rehearsal was a blur. He wasn’t Roman anymore. In front of this audience? He was Romeo, a rich lovestruck teenager. 

Then suddenly, he found himself staring into Janus’ eyes, and he was Roman all over again. 

Janus’ eyes, a deep, rich brown that gave Roman a steady look, pierced into Roman’s heart. He spoke towards the audience, but he sounded so genuine and sincere as he uttered his lines. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

Roman gave Janus a soft smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take.”

Closing his eyes, he leaned in and brushed Janus’ lips. It was hesitant, and soft, and he could hear Janus' quiet gasp, as if he wasn't expecting it. It was barely a kiss, more like a peck, but Roman could feel heat rushing into his cheeks. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.” He said, loud enough for the audience to hear him.

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took?” Janus cocked his head to the side, looking far more innocent and coy than Roman had ever seen him behave before.

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” This time, Janus stood on tiptoes and kissed him. A proper kiss that made the butterflies in his stomach flutter, and Roman wanted to stay like that forever and ever. The scent of Janus' cologne made him giddy and he took Janus' hands, pulling him closer. On one hand, they were playing parts in a play, and on the other hand, everything felt oh so real, from the hoodie toggles that tickled his button up shirt to Janus' soft fingers gripping his hands tightly.

When they finally pulled away, Roman gazed at Janus' shining brown eyes in what must have been a lovestruck expression. He found his Julien.

---

"You BITCH!" Virgil slapped the study table violently.

"What did I do?"

"1 year. 1 fucking year of you making fun of me falling for a white guy and here you are, falling for the exact same white guy." Virgil looked vaguely irritated. "Even my mom was like," He put his hand at his ear like a phone and did an exaggerated Chinese accent. "Aiyah ah boy, I know you like boys, but an angmoh gao is too too much already. But don't worry lah, 4 months is not long, you still can leave him.” Do you even know what that means, you ass?”

He suddenly burst out in laughter. "This is great, it's my turn to poke fun." He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "What was the kiss like? Was it...spicy?"

"Weren't you there?"

"Yeah, but I want a personal recount. Actually, no. Give me the P.E.E.L. format. Point, evidence, example and link on Janus' kissing skills. Go." 

"Oh, er. Janus was a… good kisser?" Roman didn't kiss much. "Um, point. His hair is all fluffy and I feel it brushing against my forehead, which gives me butterflies and this warm tingly sensation that ran through my body and gave me goosebumps. And he makes this noise whenever we kiss that is so cute, he honestly sounds genuinely surprised whenever it happens, even though we're following a script. And his cologne smells so good, oh my god I need to get the brand name, it's like kinda ashy, but not quite and it was a bit light, like a nice stroll in a forest. Holy shit it smelled nice. And-"

Virgil raised an eyebrow and paused Roman's tangent. "He wore cologne? He never wears cologne."

"Oh." Roman's eyes widened. 

"Maybe…" Virgil wiggled his eyebrows. "He wore it for the kiss scene." 

The heat that decided to congregate on Roman's cheeks was undeniable. "Why - why would he do that?" 

"He likes you, ya dumbass. And he wanted to impress you, so he decided that hoodie plus beanie plus cologne was a good combo."

Roman stared at his feet. "It was."

Virgil stood up and patted Roman on the head comfortingly. "There, there, it's alright. White guys aren't all that bad."

"Oh fuck off."

Virgil bowed and shot Roman the finger. Truly a man of eloquence and class. Roman opened a picture on his phone from his date with Janus. Janus was smiling, and Roman could feel himself smiling too as he looked at the picture of Janus. Of his Julien.

[wordsablaze]

5~ it’s hard to get to know me

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: can’t decide if we want fluff or angst so we’re getting a strange mix of them both ;)

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @cloudspeck @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @booboomuffin

previous chapter

-

Eskel opens his eyes to the sight of messy brown hair.

He blinks once, twice, thrice just to check he’s not imagining things. And for the record, he’s not, it’s just that Jaskier seems to be using him as a pillow, sleeping almost sideways on the bed.

It doesn’t look very comfortable but he doesn’t know enough about Jaskier to argue yet so he just gently manoeuvres himself out of the bed and makes to go put his armour on. Only for his attention to be drawn back to Jaskier when he lets out a sleepy groan and curls up on himself.

It’s far more adorable than it has any right to be.

“Geralt?” Jaskier mumbles, yawning.

“Uh, no,” Eskel replies, not exactly sure what he’s meant to do when Jaskier looks so confused, and when there’s suddenly a strange stinging in his heart.

Before he can say anything more, Jaskier shoots upright, his eyes wide and his gaze frantically searching the room until he sees Eskel, at which point the sharp scent of fear fades into a soft relief.  

The stinging in his heart fades as he realises Jaskier is somehow comforted by his very presence. People seeing Eskel usually results in fear or uneasiness so he doesn’t understand what it is about him that could even possibly be soothing Jaskier’s fear. But he doesn’t know how to ask.

“You’re not him,” Jaskier sighs, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.

Eskel clears his throat awkwardly. “No.”

There’s a very small silence before Jaskier looks up with a strained attempt at a smile. “You’re not, of course you’re not- I’m so sorry, I… I was- I don’t know, really. He- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to and it was just- i only- you- please don’t leave?”

Jaskier’s eyes water ever so slightly and although Eskel doesn’t know why, he finds himself moving to sit beside him immediately. “I’m not leaving. I promised not to, remember?”

There are arms around Eskel’s neck even as he finishes talking and it takes an awful lot of energy not to simply throw Jaskier off. Instead, he curls one of his own arms around Jaskier and waits until he stops panicking and stumbling over his words.

“It’s okay, bardling,” Eskel promises as Jaskier exhales slowly, again and again and again.

And it is okay because of course Jaskier would think he might be waking up next to someone he’s woken up next to for over two decades. Not that Eskel has ever been in a similar position but he’s pretty sure he would do something similar so he can’t exactly fault the bard.

“I’m so sorry,” Jaskier mumbles eventually.

Eskel makes a mental note not to try and sneak out of bed in future. “You don’t have to be.”

Jaskier pulls away and brushes away his unshed tears before offering Eskel a much stronger smile than before. “Thank you for not leaving,” he says, even though Eskel had, more or less, attempted to do exactly that.

“And I’m sorry for waking you,” Eskel replies slowly.

But Jaskier shakes his head at that, elbowing him. “You didn’t wake me. Well, I suppose you sort of did but it’s not exactly early so I can’t blame you. And, uh, you have that siren problem to deal with,” he rambles, springing to his feet.

Bemused, Eskel stays exactly where he is as Jaskier slips his doublet on and turns to him with his hands on his hips and one eyebrow raised. “Well? Don’t witchers like to eat breakfast with their armour on just in case someone dares to steal their food?”

“What? That is not why we keep our armour on!” Eskel protests, mildly offended.

He lets Jaskier continue to talk at somewhere that seems close to the speed of sound itself as the two of them make their way downstairs.

It’s not long before they’re given food and Eskel hides his laugh as the woman who serves them attempts to flirt with Jaskier. He’s sure that if Jaskier weren’t still trying to cover up his previous panicking, she might even have been successful.

“This is really nicely salted,” Jaskier comments once she’s gone.

“Why didn’t you tell her that?” Eskel asks, trying his best not to laugh.

Jaskier just blinks. “Who?”

“The woman who so clearly wanted your attention.”

As he follows Eskel’s gaze, Jaskier’s face flushes red and he shrugs almost defensively. “I didn’t really notice her,” he admits, and Eskel is reminded that Jaskier can probably interact with people the same way he breathes, which is to say he can do so without even thinking about it.

Eskel is torn between being impressed, concerned, amused, and slightly jealous; it seems Jaskier will always remain something of a mystery to him.

“I’ll make it up to her later,” Jaskier mumbles, sounding more than a little remorseful.

Shaking his head, Eskel just carries on eating, neither of them saying much until a very visibly distressed woman bursts in and all but falls onto Jaskier, breathing heavily.

Jaskier doesn’t miss a beat before putting an arm around her. “What’s wrong?” he asks gently, seemingly unbothered that she’d interrupted his meal.

“The s- siren I told you about…” she manages.

“Who was it this time?” Jaskier asks even as he shares a look with Eskel, who manages to get all his wits about him and pay a little more attention instead of musing.

“My brother, my poor brother,” the woman sobs.

As Jaskier murmurs comforting nothings to her, Eskel leans forwards, waiting until she’s a little less distraught before asking, “What’s your name?”

Upon hearing him, the woman looks up and sniffles twice before taking a deep breath. “Lillia.”

“Well, Lillia, I promise to try and help your brother,” he says, and he means it. Even if they’re all well aware her brother probably isn’t coming back.

Jaskier beams. “And this is my- the darling witcher I was telling you about yesterday.”

Eskel doesn’t miss the slip of tongue and briefly wonders how exactly Jaskier had introduced him to Lillia. But he doesn’t get to wonder for very long because she nods and starts explaining how her brother and his friends had all gone missing near the river.

Once she’s done, Jaskier hands her a napkin. “You know we can’t promise you we’ll return your brother but I can promise you Eskel won’t let the same thing happen to your husband.”

“Try to stay indoors, okay?” Eskel suggests.

She nods and thanks them profusely before leaving to presumably go and tell her husband the good news. Eskel raises an eyebrow at Jaskier when she’s out of earshot. “You didn’t ask her name yesterday?”

Jaskier huffs. “Excuse me for having a little more on my mind than learning the names of everyone in the room during a performance.”

Eskel laughs, standing up. “Well, we should probably go prepare then.”

Although Jaskier stands to follow him, he frowns. “Prepare?”

They make their way back to their room before Eskel replies. “You can’t just attempt to talk to a siren without being prepared.”

Jaskier almost drops the lute he’s just picked up as he turns to Eskel, frowning yet again. “Why would I need to talk to a siren?”

Oh.

Of course.

Eskel internally makes a note to throw something that’s at least slightly heavy right at Geralt’s face as he offers Jaskier a smile. “Do you want to stay here or do you want to come with me to find this siren?”

The way Jaskier’s jaw drops is nothing short of comical.

“You mean I don’t need to stay behind?” he asks hopefully.

Eskel shakes his head, then realises that might be confusing to anyone outside of his own head. “No, you don’t. As long as you run exactly when I tell you to.”

With a bright grin, Jaskier nods enthusiastically. “I promise I will. So when are we leaving?”

“Sirens are usually strongest at night so surprising one during the day seems like our best chance,” Eskel replies as he checks over his bags, making sure he has enough of everything just in case their encounter goes wrong somehow.

“So… now?” Jaskier asks with all the glee of a toddler.

“Do you have something you can cover your eyes or your ears with if necessary?” Eskel asks, “A second doublet at the very least?”

Although he knows that a siren’s enchantment can rarely be stopped by anything less than magic, he’d definitely feel a little better if he knew Jaskier had some kind of defence, although he’s still working on trying to figure out why he so strongly wishes for the bard to stay safe.

Jaskier shakes his head. “I would rather risk being devoured than sacrifice any of my doublets, thank you very much.”

Eskel sighs. “In that case, you can stay with Scorpion while I find the siren.”

“Obviously,” Jaskier replies, having placed his lute in its case and slung that over his shoulder while they were talking. “Are you ready?”

He should be the one asking that, Eskel thinks, but chooses only to nod, grabbing the bag he needs and letting Jaskier lead the way back downstairs, where he stops to whisper something to a barmaid. She nods solemnly but says nothing and disappears before Eskel can figure out what Jaskier was doing.

“Why are you bringing your lute?” Eskel asks.

Jaskier looks ever so slightly outraged. “I’m not just going to leave her behind. And what if I get stuck by inspiration only to find I don’t have her with me? What then?”

Scorpion headbutts Eskel before he can think of a reply but Jaskier just grins and pulls out another apple from literally nowhere - Eskel’s beginning to think he has magical pockets sewn into his clothing.

He offers the apple up to Eskel, who lifts his hands above his head and nods his head to Scorpion. Just as Jaskier opens his mouth to apologise - which Eskel can tell he’s about to do because he’s shuffling his feet again - Scorpion bites the apple and makes the choice for them.

“Woah there,” Jaskier breathes, lifting his other hand to stroke her.

Eskel almost forgets what he’s doing altogether as he watches the two of them; there’s no explanation for the rush of warmth that surges through him but gods is he glad Scorpion approves of Jaskier.

“Well, let’s go then!” Jaskier calls over his shoulder as he starts walking, at which point Eskel realises he’d spent too long in his thoughts yet again , something that seems to be quickly becoming a habit the longer he spends with Jaskier.

He takes Scorpion’s reins and guides her out of the stables, then pointedly clears his throat. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier hums, turning on his heel only to frown when he sees Eskel walking. “What are you doing? Is she injured?”

Eskel’s eyebrows furrow as he glances between Scorpion and Jaskier. “No, she’s fine. What are you doing?”

“Did you just lose a marble, darling? We’re going to find Lillia’s siren? Well, it wouldn’t be her siren exactly, but it’s her problem and the problem just so happens to be a siren so it’s her siren problem and so-”

“Jaskier. I meant, why are you walking?”

The look of confusion on Jaskier’s face makes Eskel want to both laugh and punch Geralt yet another time. Since neither of those things are likely to help the situation, he foregoes both of them, instead gesturing to the saddle. “Don’t you want to ride with me?”

“But this is a contract,” Jaskier argues.

Eskel nods. “Yes, which is why I’d prefer you to be as close as possible.”

It makes perfect sense to Eskel but Jaskier worries his lip for the duration of a short uneasy silence before shaking his head and folding his arms in front of him. “I can walk fast, I- I won’t slow you down, if that’s what you mean. You don’t have to…”

Once Eskel is sure Jaskier isn’t going to continue, he steps forward and places a hand on Jaskier’s arm, offering him a smile. “When I said you could ride with me, it wasn’t just a one-time offer.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s face goes through a rapid series of emotions that Eskel can’t quite place before he beams and loops his arms around Eskel’s neck, waves of happiness radiating from him as he whispers, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, bardling,” Eskel replies, focusing on getting them both secure on Scorpion instead of how surprisingly nice it feels to hug someone, to have someone want to hug him.

Like last time, Jaskier holds on to the saddle itself rather than Eskel, which is perfectly fine for now because it’s not particularly rough terrain and he figures that if the bard is more comfortable that way, there’s no reason to complain.

“Have you come across many sirens before?” Jaskier asks once they get moving.

It takes Eskel a minute to try and remember. “A few.”

Jaskier shifts a little. “Would you be so kind as to tell me about them? I’ve only seen one and I don’t remember enough about her for a full song.”

Eskel laughs lightly. “Sure. I bet you haven’t heard much about their wings.”

Behind him, Jaskier gasps so dramatically that Eskel fleetingly wonders if he’s falling off. But then he blurts, “They have wings? Are you quite serious? I cannot believe I’ve missed out on such a magnificent piece of information!”

“I’m very serious,” Eskel promises.

And as if they’ve swapped roles, Eskel finds himself narrating something of a story about the last siren he’d come across while Jaskier stays mostly quiet, only asking the occasional question every so often and acting as a rather perfect audience.

He’s almost sorry he has to stop when they finally get to the river but he doesn’t want to suffer through the irony of falling prey to a siren whilst telling a tale about the very same creature.

“This is as close as you get,” he tells Jaskier as he swings himself off Scorpion.

Jaskier nods solemnly. “I won’t go anywhere, I give you my word.”

Eskel nods, then looks to Scorpion. “Make sure he doesn’t run off,” he says, smirking when he hears Jaskier splutter indignantly.

It feels almost wrong to leave Jaskier but he trusts his horse with his life and he’d really rather not take either of them any closer to a lone siren than they need to be, especially since a siren without a group is either an outcast or a narcissist.

“Eskel?”

He turns to see Jaskier biting his lip. After a moment, the bard smiles softly. “Be careful.”

“I give you my word,” Eskel replies, returning his smile.

When Jaskier nods, he continues towards the river, not bothering to try and cover up the smile that refuses to leave his face because there’s nobody around to see it. His muscles aren’t used to smiling so much and he can almost hear their confusion, but he’s not opposed to changing that.

Or rather, he’s not opposed to letting Jaskier change that.

-

okay listen, i know Eskel is a fierce and skilled witcher but i just wanted to see him lowkey melt when faced with the wholesome chaos that is Jaskier,,,

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher sideblog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[mousehole5000]

 this is it... the final post.... 226 through THE END!!!!!

this shit with mu qing and the river of lava is SOOOO dramatic im loving it

oh my god theyre on a FUCKING bridge of course they are okay let’s go boys

“You’re right. We’re alike. You think me odd, I think you to be rather weird too.” - so what im getting from this is that xie lian and mu qing are the only characters in this book with working gaydar okay yup got it this checks out

god... the fact that xie lian is ready to be like “look mu qing we can just forget about the past it doesnt matter we dont have to be friends i know you dont like me but im not gonna let you die over it” and then mu qing is like “.... god i really do admire you huh”

“You...certainly...are rather amazing. You’re...also...a better person...than me. Long story short, I...very much wanted...to become your f-f-friend.”  - going to think about this for the rest of all time im about to become utterly unintelligible im overcome with emotions

“And, at the end of the white silk band, Feng Xin was gripping Ruoye with one hand while the other was holding on to a steel-faced Mu Qing, and he shouted towards him.” - the fucking IMAGE of this im gonna cry this is everything i could have asked for im so happy also mu qing dangling there like “ welp. guess ill live“

“Feng Xin was almost burnt by that pillar of fire, and he shouted in outrage. “WHAT’S WITH THIS BAND OF DOG SHITS, ATTACKING PEOPLE WHILE THEY’RE DOWN, SO VILE! FUCK YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY!” Xie Lian responded, “IF THEIR ENTIRE FAMILIES ALL LOOK LIKE THAT, YOU SURE YOU WANT TO FUCK THEM??” - theyre so funny!!! and theyre best friends!!! theyre joking together now in the middle of all this i could cry theyre back!!!

“Using sticks as arrows, he held the bow with one hand and used his teeth to bite back the bowstring.” - no clue how practical this is but okay archer boy. hot

i actually have so many little quips between the three of them highlighted but we’d be here all night if i included them all. im literally so delighted by this omg worth the wait

“Each sabre strike slashed to the bone. It wasn’t like Xie Lian had never seen Hua Cheng use the sabre before in the past, but his style had always been easy and leisurely, nonchalant and casual. Rather than say he was handling a weapon, it was more like he was toying with a small knife. Yet those blade marks were filled with killing intent. It was easy to imagine just how skilled the one exchanging blows with him was, and how perilous this battle.” you have no idea how mad i was when i read this and thought we missed witnessing the fight between hc and jw omg

“Behind him, Feng Xin muttered, “Dear fucking god, may all the gods and buddhas grant their blessings, that better absolutely be Crimson Rain Sought Flower, otherwise he’s gonna go mad!” “Stop your rubbish,” Mu Qing berated. “We’re all the gods and buddhas ourselves and we can’t grant shit, just keep up with him! Look at the stumbling way he’s running, he’s gonna trip and fall to his bloody death before he even sees the man!” - okay i know i said no more quips but this is literally too funny i just wanted to read it again

“ However, for whatever reason, that vicious ghost, in its muddled state, took that large group of live mortals under its wing and fled for many days. In the end, they were still surrounded by millions of ghosts, trapped in a dead end, and it was going to be eaten along with those humans.” [...] “That vicious ghost almost made a move against those humans, but for some reason, in the end, it didn’t. It instead used one of its own eyes as the price to forge a blood weapon. That vicious ghost was already forcibly hanging on with its last breath; after digging out its eye it should’ve broken apart completely. Yet somehow something had shocked it, and it instead woke to its senses completely. “ - THIS IS AMAZING ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? IS THIS ALL WE GET ABOUT HIS GHOSTLY LORE?????? HUA CHENGGGGGGGG

“What a terrible offence, his old habit had come out, and he quickly apologized. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to listen to me!” Hua Cheng, however, only smiled happily. “Everything gege tells me is the best advice, so why wouldn’t I listen?” - this isnt the fucking time afjdkfjsdkl they really never stop

“So you can hold the illusion of a perfect Crown Prince of Wuyong to face and dismiss the Jun Wu now. Isn’t that your objective? Did you think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” “THAT’S NOT IT!” Guoshi cried. “Stop getting tied up in right and wrong, victories and defeat, I’VE NEVER THOUGHT THAT WAY BEFORE!” - jun wu only being able to see xie lian as his successor and believing that thats all anyone else sees too... okay

honestly this whole final showdown was a blast i cant put everything in but it was so much fun to read. the DRAMA the LAVA the SHOUTING t

“Hua Cheng had poured too much spiritual power into him. There really was too much, so much that it was completely outside the amount the cursed shackle could withstand.” - okay.... okay... the love you give will set you free... okay....

“With Jun Wu in his grip, he carried both their bodies and forcefully slammed into the incomparably-solid rock wall! He used all of his power in this smash, and in the rumbling and crashing of rocks, he also heard the sound of something breaking.” [...] “A moment later, Jun Wu suddenly asked, “That move. What is it called?” “...” Xie Lian raised his sleeve and wiped away the blood on the side of his face. “Shattering boulders on the chest.” YES!!!!! YES!!!!! xie lian actually lived that life!!!!!! i loved this detail so much

“After a moment of silence, Xie Lian took off the bamboo hat carried on his back, took it in his hand, and covered it over Jun Wu’s face.” - xie lian... good... another detail i love. a hat that protects from the rain, given in a moment of need, even to someone who has caused you hardship... we do not forget the kindness granted to us

“There was gratefulness, there was shame, there was heartache, there was wild joy, but above all else, there was incurable love.” - :pleading: i wish it was just that easy tbh. “i have to tell you about the worst parts of myself” “ive already seen them and i dont care i still love you“ truly the dream

“ It’s been so long since anyone listened to me talk, won’t you stay? Don’t...actually do this. I won’t be able to take it. Twice, it’s been twice already! I really don’t want there to be a third time!!!” - the bit about just wanting someone to listen to him talk... xie lian... :(

emily corpse bride moment.... i knew it had to happen.... butterflies.... death and rebirth.... inevitable

xianle trio bickering about ruoye..... mu qing complaining but not letting anyone else fix it... im so happy

“The Rain Master sat down on the spot, looking like she was going to perform a passing service for her. After all, Xuan Ji was the only one left of the Kingdom of Yushi besides herself.”  - xuan ji you sure the hell were... a character. this little moment tho..... yushi huang... many thoughts

“ Who hasn’t made promises, or swore to the mountains and the seas when they were young? Talking of affection, of love, of forevers. But, the longer I hang around in the world, the more I understand, something like ‘forever’ is impossible. It’s never going to be possible. Having it once was already good enough. No one can truly achieve it. I don’t believe in it anymore.” - jian lan im happy for you bummer it didnt work out with feng xin but yeah that was looooong ago. also this quote me same mood kin but its chill. having it once was already good enough

although yeah tbh if theres anyone who can have a forever like that... it would be a ghost and a god

fasdfjadklfj GOD... pour one out for ling wen.. but is that not the truth of this world? the one can be pardoned for being good at paperwork that no one else wants to do? isnt that the plot of the shawshank redemption?

okay but the fact that all xie lian’s friends come to visit him while he waits for hua cheng is making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.... fengqing coming together to try to get him out of the house but get scared off by his cooking... amazing

“Last time, they spent eight hundred years running towards each other. This time, it only took an instant to fall into each other’s embrace.” - im completely unaffected by this. im not lying i swear (i am lying im very emotionally affected)

okay i love this final wrap up chapter party its so fun. mu qing moving on from the broom thing!!! good for him!! the beggars get their reward!!! the fun ghost city chefs!! SQX!!!! and he xuan is?? here too??? he’s hungry??? fjadlkfjsdl

“The grounds that Feng Xin and Mu Qing had just swept were once again filthy from that giant crowd of muddy feet. Mu Qing gripped his broom, looking like he felt someone had infected him with fleas, and his eyes were wide.” - me when my dad comes into the kitchen when ive just finished washing dishes i get it king

the little folklore bit... fun!!! oh my god its over..... :(

that was really fun i had a blast reading it and on the whole really liked it i WISH soo badly that hua cheng had gotten more outside of being cunty and devoted even tho those are both important i just wish there was more about like how he got by during those 800 years and like did he ever have doubts? what shaped his worldview was it all xie lian or was it his experience as a mortal as well? why is he so mean to e’ming? theres bits and pieces here and there and i know it was already SO long but that really would have been great if there was more about hc cuz tbh by the end, at least for me, the hualian relationship didnt actually feel as fleshed out as the xianle trio relationship like i still liked hualian’s dynamic and it was really sweet how much they clearly really liked each other and  everything but i kind of wish some of the other subplots had been dropped or diminished in favor of more hc development i think that would have been cool

but anyway thats some of my thoughts and i really did enjoy the hell out of book 5 that was a riot and uhhh thanks to everyone who read these or commented *lends you spiritual energy through a high five*

[randomoranges]

i’ve had this idea for literal years but would keep forgetting about it, remember it, forget again, remember it etc

finally remembered it at an ish convenient time and sat down to do something about it.

it’s au - can be it’s own, can fit with a multitude of those that already exist.

Cirque du Soleil

 It was a known fact that between the two of them, Étienne was the one who absolutely thrived on spoiling Edward rotten. Étienne took immense pride and pleasure in going all out when it came to planning elaborate dates and finding the perfect gift for him. With time, Edward had come to understand that one of the ways Étienne showed affection was by showering him with attention and so, Edward had learned to deal with it. (Not that he minded.) However, even though Edward didn’t exactly know about all the latest trends and all the greatest places to go for the best unique experience (he had no idea how Étienne managed to stay on top of literally everything going on in the city or how it was he always managed to get a reservation for places that were booked solid), he did also care a whole lot for his boyfriend and he did enjoy making him happy. He took great satisfaction from getting Étienne gifts that he coveted and from seeing him enjoy whatever it was they did for their date.

 Therefore, it was safe to say that Edward had a few cards up his sleeves and this was one of those times when he would put down one of those said cards.

 He had a plan.

 A glorious plan.

 Étienne would never even know what hit him.

 In order for his plan to work, Edward made sure well in advance to let his boyfriend know that he was taking care of their next date. Étienne had been intrigued, but pleased and had thankfully left it at that.

 In essence, the plan was quite simple. He was taking Étienne out for dinner and then they were going to see a show. What Étienne didn’t know and Edward had kept as vague as possible was that Edward was taking him to see the new Cirque du Soleil show.

 Étienne loved Cirque du Soleil. He’d seen a few shows over the years, mostly with his parents, and had always been fascinated by the performances. He had a lot of the music from past shows, including some from shows he hadn’t seen and Edward had gotten to hear a fair amount of it, since he’d started dating him.

 However, tickets to see a show were not cheap and every time a new show came to town, Étienne either always lucked out, or something eventually came up that impeded him from splurging on a ticket. Therefore, when Edward had heard back in January that a new show was coming to the city, he’d quickly jumped on the occasion and gotten two tickets. The show was months away, right in the thick of summer, but – it would be worth it, he knew. And even though it wasn’t their anniversary nor Étienne’s birthday, he figured he was allowed to spoil his boyfriend just because he wanted to and that he didn’t need to justify it. After all, he had a steady job and was making good money. He was good for it.

 The next part of his master plan had been to keep this a secret from Étienne and to make sure that his boyfriend wouldn’t go on and purchase tickets for himself for the same day. He’d kept his ears pealed and had done some sleuthing (mostly asking Étienne’s sister and friends to let him know if Étienne mentioned anything about Cirque du Soleil) and luckily, Edward was able to put his plan in action.

 On the evening of the date, Étienne tried to get some extra information out of Edward, but he wouldn’t budge. He’d made it this far and he was not about to spoil the big reveal. Therefore, the only thing he shared with Étienne was to dress nicely and he left it at that.

 Dinner wasn’t at the latest new place that had just opened or one of the fanciest in town, but he knew that it was one of Étienne’s favourites and his boyfriend looked absolutely delighted that they were going there. Edward tried not to check his watch too many times, fearing that they wouldn’t make it in time, even though he had specifically chosen this particular place in the Old Port since it was close. Étienne didn’t seem to pick up on any of it, which was another blessing and Edward did his best to wine and dine his boyfriend, which really, wasn’t that hard.

 Étienne was always easy to engage in conversation and Edward couldn’t think to a time when he’d run out of things to say to him. They could spend hours talking about the most trivial of things and Edward had fond memories of many such evenings spent together. The only drawback was that he’d been so focused on his time with his boyfriend, stealing a bite from his dish, offering one in return, gently reaching over for his hand and casually bumping their knees together, that he nearly missed when Étienne excused himself to use the washroom and instead made a beeline to pay.

 The waitress was amused by their little squabble and Edward was just relieved that he’d managed to wrangle Étienne’s wallet out of his hands, before his boyfriend could tap his card to the machine.

 “I said tonight was my treat,” He scolded, later, once they were outside and heading towards le Grand Chapiteau. He wasn’t actually mad, but he’d worked too hard for Étienne to go ahead and pay for the meal. He’d fallen for that trap too many times and he couldn’t believe it had nearly happened again.

 “I know, but – you know I don’t mind,” He admitted sheepishly.

 Edward sighed, shook his head, and reached for one of his paint-speckled hands, linking it with his own. “I know, but this is my treat. I’m taking you out. You can dote on me later.”

 Étienne laughed and gave his hand a squeeze as they crossed the street. Normally, Edward didn’t really go for the whole – display of affection in public, but he knew Étienne thrived on that stuff and so he let him link their arms together as they reached the waterfront where the tent was. Edward pretended that it wasn’t their final destination, but he did notice how Étienne slowed down his gait a little and how he watched with masked envy the people who mingled about heading towards the entrance.

 “Can’t believe I missed my chance again,” Étienne said with a forlorn little smile.

 “D’you want to get closer?”

 Étienne hesitated, but Edward led him on saying they could grab a quick photo and then be on their way. Étienne was quick to follow and figured it was as good as it would get until the next show. He took out his phone to snap a photo and just as he was about to head back out, he noticed that Edward seemed to be waiting for him.

 “I don’t think we can exit through there,” Étienne genuinely told him.

 Edward grinned – this was his moment. The one he had been planning for since January. From the inside of the jacket he’d been wearing, he pulled out an envelope and from it, he retrieved the two tickets to the show.

 “What if we had tickets?” He asked innocently as he watched for Étienne’s reaction.

 His boyfriend delivered. Boy did he ever.

 Étienne blinked and slowly walked back towards him. “What do you mean?” He asked, quite serious. “There aren’t any left. I’ve been checking the site for the past month. It’s sold out all the way through.”

 Edward held a ticket in each hand and Étienne slowly, and very tentatively, reached out to touch one, as if to make sure it was real.

 “What if I told you I got these a while back?”He smiled innocently enough, but Étienne still looked far too shocked and surprised.

 “I don’t understand,” Étienne said as he kept stroking one of the tickets as if wanting to make sure it wouldn’t fade away and that he wasn’t dreaming.

 Edward chuckled and looped their arms together as he walked them towards the entrance of the tent. “I got these when they came out. I figured you would enjoy coming here,” He handed the tickets over to the ticket checker and continued walking Étienne towards their seats, while his boyfriend looked completely star-struck and amazed. It was honestly endearing to see the look on his face and Edward silently congratulated himself for being able to carry out his plan.

 “I cannot believe you pulled this off! Behind my back!” Étienne said as they gained their seats. “Édouard! This is too much!” There was no bite to it as Étienne took in the décor and the jumble of people straggling in. “It’s not even my birthday! Or a special occasion!” He went on and Edward laughed and clasped his boyfriend’s hand.

 “As if that’s ever stopped you from doing something for me. Can’t a guy want to take his boyfriend out on a date?” He teased and watched as Étienne huffed.

 “That’s different,” He explained.

 Edward quirked an eyebrow at that, “Do tell.”

 “Well – for starters, I don’t take you out to friggin Cirque du Soleil.”

 “No, but you do a whole lot other stuff for me. Maybe I’d like to splurge on you from time to time as well.”

 Étienne opened his mouth to retort to that, but then closed it. There was no use in arguing. Edward had a point, even if he always preferred showering his beau with gifts and attention.

 Edward grinned, self-amused and pleased that he’d manage to win this time around, and sat back in his seat. Luckily, Étienne didn’t stay annoyed long, not with the gorgeous decorations and sets that were a few feet away. Soon, he was jabbering on about how much he adored Cirque du Soleil and how it had a formative impact on him since the first time he’d seen a show with his parents. He recalled the tale of how he’d gone back home that night and had spent hours past his bedtime drawing all sorts of crazy-outrageous outfits and how he’d dreamt of one day designing a whole line of clothes with bold colours and materials of his own.

 Edward had heard the story countless times before, but it was always nice hearing it again and seeing the way Étienne became animated by it.

 When the first of the performers came out to entertain the crowd as they waited, Étienne fell into an excited chatter about that one time he’d come and how this one unsuspecting guest had fallen into the most ridiculous of pranks. Edward nodded in all the right places, genuinely interested in what his boyfriend had to tell him, and when the lights finally dimmed and the performers left, Étienne quieted down and settled in his seat, leaning into his side.

 Edward took Étienne’s eternally paint-speckled hand in his, feeling bold, and gave it a soft squeeze. His boyfriend turned to look at him and grinned, wide and bright and mouthed to him a soft “thank you” as the opening music started. Edward was just happy to see his boyfriend so pleased and glad that they could do this together – that there was an opportunity for them to do this.

 Throughout the show, there were times when Edward would look at Étienne to see the reactions off his face as he oohed and aahed at every daring acrobatic. He would grasp his hand tighter and gasp at the gravity defying stunts the performers would pull. It was a good show, of that Edward knew and he could tell that his boyfriend was enjoying it immensely, and what truly made it worth it was to see Étienne enjoy it. To see him so genuinely happy.

 When intermission came, Étienne was completely silent for the first few minutes, still trying to process all it was he had just seen. Edward quietly let him have his moment and excused himself to stretch his legs. When he returned, he handed his boyfriend a small bag and Étienne nearly lost it all over again when he found the CD from this show in it.

 “You need to stop doing this.” Étienne berated him, but grinned nonetheless.

 “It’s for your collection,” He simply told him.

 Étienne quickly read the tracks of the second part of the show, curious to see what the titles were, and then carefully put the CD away and looked back at his boyfriend. “I will have my revenge, you know that, right?”

 Edward laughed, not surprised he’d say such a thing. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try something, to be honest.”

 Étienne rolled his eyes, before leaning close to peck his cheek, “But – everything else put aside, thank you – for absolutely everything.”

 Edward grinned, pleased, and they both settled for the second part of the show.

 And finally, when the show ended, they slowly made their way out, Étienne talking a mile a minute about everything he had liked about it. He went over every act he had loved and spared Edward no details. Edward guided him out of le Grand Chapiteau after one last stop at the gift shop and once they were outside he made it a point to stop again at the front of the giant yellow and blue tent.

 “Come on, we never got that photo earlier.” He said as he motioned to Étienne to step closer. His boyfriend laughed and leaned in close, as Edward took the photo, “It’ll look good in our photo album.”

  Fin

[shinygoku]

Liar Revealed! A Bug’s Life Essay

A Bug’s Life is my favourite Pixar movie and thus, it turns out I have a lot of thoughts about it. In this case, what was originally my interpretation soley in response to points I’ve seen raised on YouTube and TV Tropes has spun off into this mega essay.... all focused on a single scene.

But hey, it works with one of the film’s main messages; that something big grows out of a small idea!

The scene is the most notorious in the movie, at least from what I’ve seen, and I’m inclined to agree it’s the weakest part of this giant clock. But why is it like that and how could it have been handled better?

As I’ve said, this is actually my favourite (albeit not what I consider their very best) of Pixar’s output, and I wouldn’t have been able to go into such depth without a huge amount of love for the finished product, flawed as it may be.

It’s also possible I’ll write a more generalised thing on what I love about the film in the future, but I won’t promise anything o7;; 🐜

The Lie is ...laid

Actually, I should talk about two scenes. First is where the Lie is established:

After the humourous mutual misunderstanding between the Circus Bugs and Flik, the former are quite horrified to discover they’re expected to fight the Grasshoppers off themselves instead of putting on a show. Ahh, that old classic~

But no, they want out and Flik, who has just been informed by them during the welcoming shindig, is understandably rattled and despairing over this addition to his list of failures. He says the fallout will not only brand him, but his hypothetical grandchildren as a Terrible Loser and even says he’s as good as dead as soon as the other ants find out. Owch.

Before things get too heavy, the focus shifts around until The Bird becomes the main immediate threat. The whole Bird scene leads the ants to become convinced the Circus Bugs are really amazing warriors and, as this is the first time in what could be years that they have a crowd cheering for them it’s the success and Flik’s later idea to make a Giant Mech in the shape of a Bird instead of planning any actual combat that convinces them to play along.

So, that’s the lie set up and solidified. Now for the eventual fallout:

During a fun party after the Bird has been built, an ominous force arrives... PT Flea, the Jerkass ringmaster who had fired the Circus Bugs. This local bug promptly ruins everything by literally shining a light on the Circus Bugs and their nature as such, and then Flik is accidentally outed as the Guy Who Thought Up The Bird.

The Liar Revealed Trope

I would link the TV Tropes article here, but as tungle doesn’t like external sites I’ll just quote the more relevant parts from it:

“Liar Revealed in the Internal Reveal of The Lie, the facade maintained by a protagonist which provides the primary dramatic tension for the plot. This usually sets up the third act where the protagonists are forced to deal with the consequences of the lie on top of any external threats.

There are a few usual ways this ends up. If the lie was for selfish reasons, the protagonist will doubtless face the wrath of those he lied to, but along the way end up having a change of conscience, and try to redeem themselves through good acts and An Aesop about "what really matters". If the lie was well-intentioned, the protagonist may still find that others turn their backs on him, but go on to carry through with what they said they'd do anyway, proving themselves a hero after all.

It's worth noting that this trope is particularly easy and common to misuse, either in the tendency of the protagonist to Maintain the Lie for reasons that make no sense except for dramatic tension or of the deceived to turn against the protagonist for the deception in spite of other considerations that should by all rights absolve him.”

And in the folder there’s a specific entry for this film:

A Bug's Life has Flik supposedly finding "warrior bugs" to save his colony after misconstruing a situation. When he realizes his mistake (that they're circus performers rather than trained warriors), he's forced to keep the lie going in order to not cause panic among the other ants. Once the colony finds out, it inevitably results in one of the most painfully Played Straight examples of this trope in animation history... 

As you can see there, the dislike for this scene has seeped into the entry. Of course, TV Tropes is pretty informal and I like that, but it’s telling that this is a general perception.

Continue reading below the Cut! ✂

What I don’t like

So, I think my main issue with the scene boils down to... it’s very nebulous and unclear as to what’s so bad about Flik lying. Between the Council, the Queen and Atta, there seems to be a jumbled, confusing motive traffic jam that somehow results in what TV Tropes refers to the Liar Reveal Trope being played “Painfully Straight”.

But uhh, what’s the problem? Yes, Flik lied, but we know that wasn’t something he’d planned on doing, it was his attempt at damage control. The other ants don’t know that part, but still, what are they objecting to, specifically? That the Circus bugs are Circus bugs? That the Bird Plan was Flik’s? That.... lying is treated at an absolute moral failing regardless of the circumstances??

The council dudes are like: “OH WHAAAAT, the defence plan was by Clowns??” [No, it was Flik] “OH WHAAAT, we don’t have our mafia money prepared what if Hopper finds out we nearly sicced a fake bird on him!?”

The part about objecting to Clowns drafting the defence plans is actually the more reasonable explanation, but I guess they presumed warriors habitually made Decoy Bird plans instead of fighting themselves? There’s already a hole in their objections but it only gets worse.

The Queen is like: “Wow Flik evidently you’re a self serving prick. Anyway the best thing to do is pretend this never happened and no we’re not going to tell Hopper.”

Why the fuck would that happen? ‘Oh sorry Hopper we got sidetracked doing a ...thing... so we’re still picking your food no please don’t break my legs’

But also, why THE FUCK is this the plan? Some ruler you are, you old prune. ‘We have the bird all made and ready to go but oops the idea came from a DIRTY LIAR so we’re going to return to the doomed harvesting racket even though we’ve been set an outrageous amount and we can’t possibly hope to catch up and even if we had been picking the food the entire time it was established earlier on we won’t have time for our supplies on top of all that.’

Fucking.... astonishing lack of logic. YOU MORONS HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE, GO WITH THE BIRD! Flik himself says something to a similar effect lol

But noooooo, his arguably selfish lie [which is more Omitting the truth once he knew it, really] has forever doomed everything, apparently. Honestly it comes across more like they just hate Flik and see anything he invents as doomed to fail, so the second the truth emerges that he spearheaded the Mech Bird they dismiss it as a lost cause. Even though everyone worked together to build it, and Flik’s inventions weren’t the issue but him being awkward and clumsy. But seeing how Flik’s mere presence in his first scene seemed to drive the Council members into a quivering fury, it really does feel like their objections are from them refusing to give him a chance.

And then there’s Princess Atta. Hoo Boy.

In this scene, she comes off as being ridiculously vindictive, petty and hypocritical. This applies to the Council too, but it’s more galling coming from Atta as by now she’s realised that Flik gets a lot of flak [yay wordplay] from the others and she had resolved to give him more credit. BUT OOPS, that didn’t last!

She takes the Lying thing so personally, acting like he was cheating on her or something. “You lied to MeEeEee” well golly gee whiz, was there any particular reason why he would tell you the truth? Other than his rather obvious crush on you, that is? Cause that would still be a weird reason, seeing how the ‘lie’ was after he’d finally got a bit of decent treatment from the others, why would he wanna upset the apple cart?

He probably feared coming out and confessing to Atta [or anyone else] that they’d lose all faith in him and scrap a valid plan that was the only way out of the grasshopper racket mess. Which would be a bit silly and probably the result of someone with low self esteem and confidence issues overthinking the situation but it’s Exactly what actually happens!

It wasn’t a personal slight against you, Princess! To quote Helen Parr: THIS IS NOT! ABOUT! YOU!!

And wooow, you must be awfully chilly up there on your high horse, Miss “Lied to Flik to get rid of him earlier in the film”! Did you ever feel like fessing up? Like ‘hmm I’ve grown much fonder of this doofus, maybe I should be honest with him before engaging with some more light flirting’ ? Maybe if you had, he woulda been honest in return!

I don’t even see why she and the Council bothered lying about their Snipe Hunt ploy, seeing how now they act like he crossed a moral event horizon. Why even bother making a phoney baloney decoy idea to get him away, when they clearly dislike him enough to play the Brutally Honest card without fretting over his feelings. They coulda just ordered him to stay in a corner away from interfering but instead they’re willing to risk his life on a wild goose chase.

...And she then Banishes him! For what?? Lying? About what, the circus bugs or the bird plan? Both?? It really feels like her taking undue personal offence and the Council hating him and the Queen being old and senile.

So yeah, wow, this scene has what I think is the Unintended side effect of making me hate the stupid jerkface Ant colony as every named ant in it except for Dot fucking suck and throw Flik under a bus the second they deem him to be untrustworthy. In spite of, like, that the plan itself was solid and that the Circus Bugs have all been proven to be Good Eggs. They don’t give him a chance to explain and made their own bed to lie in, so I feel dark joy and satisfaction when the grasshoppers do arrive and kick them around some more.

Wow gee, if only you dumb ass ants had some sort of already made contraption to fall back on?

Why is it like this?

I can only make guesses here, be warned!

From what I’ve gathered of an older version of the story, mostly via Wikipedia, I kinda feel like the exposing would have fit that take better. In the beta version of the story, instead of Flik the lead would have been “Red”, who was a red ant and circus bug from the start. The first draft Circus lot woulda been out to scam the ants initially and I guess would have grown genuine fondness with time. The idea of an outsider flim flamming his way into the good books and later being exposed makes the overblown outrage a lot more understandable. But that’s my hypothesis for the direction they ultimately didn’t go in. Also look at how Red looks like a fuckboi here:

But in the final version, Red doesn’t exist! Flik is a part of the colony from the get go, but also apart from it cause no one likes him as, again, his ideas were good but poorly executed and he seemed to be a hindrance. But the ants should at least see that Flik is genuine in his attempts, that he’s trying his best and they should maybe cut him some slack.

The way the ants have their knickers in a twist doesn’t gel so well with the “Well meaning screwup” angle, especially compared to a possible “Opportunistic so-and-so who doesn’t have real attachments to the colony” route.

Also it may be worth noting up there where I put a TV Tropes excerpt, I bolded the relevant half of the run down, but it seems the other half applies much more to this first draft. Interesting...

So I don’t know, but I got the idea that the scene in the movie is basically a holdover from earlier that didn’t get sufficiently updated. The Liar Revealed Scene is the first thing I’d change if I were rewriting the script, and I might go back and change it again after other parts had been redone too, cause the story needs to flow from point A to point B etc. smoothly or else viewers will get annoyed and point it out in Youtube videos or overly long tumblr text posts.

How could it be fixed?

I’m not saying I’m sitting on the perfect idea of a rewrite. But the main thing is what I already touched on, the jarring disconnect between what happens and how the stupid ants respond.

Like, Atta’s sudden grabbing of the Jerkass and Idiot Balls in this scene. Wouldn’t it have been better if she was instead unsure and conflicted? She had lied to Flik earlier and, unlike the Council, was shown to actually realise Flik Has Feelings Too and apologised for the general lack of faith. She didn’t come clean about the Snipe Hunt Lie, so that could be weighing on her during this scene, maybe she would have been the only Council member to Not want to kick him out but felt pressured into it and hasn’t got into the groove of being the Future Queen enough to pull rank and talk them down from being hate filled twats. Maybe someone will mention the flirting that had been happening as muddying her judgement?

That’s my main idea, compare that with her barging in and taking undue personal offence and shooing him off. She’s supposed to feel like she’s doomed to fail too, so her facing a moral dilemma and falling on the wrong side of the fence could tie into that! (To be honest, her arc is kinda undercooked so hey, I’m killing two birds with one stone here!)

Flik being banished at all is a casualty of The Narrative, that he and the Circus Bugs have gotta go away temporarily for the finale to be cooler and more exciting. It’s a Necessary Weasel of writing and you’ll find them in every story ever made. Sometimes things have gotta happen cause Story Structure. The trick is having them more organic and concealed.

So yeah, have the Old Fogeys be in the wrong [which is so far unchanged] but also the majority of the ‘voting’. Make it difficult for Atta to choose between loyalty to the colony as a whole and her sense of duty versus trusting in Flik, who she now knows to always have his heart in the right place. She comes close to standing up for him and herself, but ultimately falters and gets pressured into the call made in the movie. She’s still ultimately responsible as leaders are, but in a much more sympathetic way.

Summation

This got way longer than I had initially imagined, and that’s even after I cut stuff in the editing process! Let’s quickly review the three main points I’m trying to make.

The Issue with the scene - A big song and dance is made over The Lie, but no reason why it’s such a terrible thing is offered. A perfectly sound plan is dismissed nonsensically.

Suspected reasoning for the writing - The tone matches a potential alternate story much better, where someone would have lied for self serving purposes instead of for the greater good.

A suggestion for a rewrite - Make it much more nuanced and fitting the character arcs. Give the characters a reason to react the way they do and have different responses per person. If the ants are going to drop the Bird plan, at least offer a more viable alternate route than going back to what wasn’t working before.

Does it really matter?

Well, I don’t expect a 22 year old film to suddenly get a rewrite, no. And I maintain that it’s a real gem which deserves much higher praise with the other Good Pixars instead of being so constantly overlooked.

Part of what spurred me to think about the scene and what I’d alter is seeing it referred to as ‘Kinda Bad’ in a youtube video that was talking about another Liar Reveal scene in another movie, and that is a bad take, but the point about how clunky this part is isn’t wrong. I don’t want people to dismiss the whole, beautiful image cause one section of it doesn’t vibe!

It doesn’t ruin the picture, but when people have something negative to say it’s this which is the magnet. And I’m kinda guilty of doing the same thing here, haha. But I wanted to really dissect and examine it, to figure out why it’s like that and to guess how simple it may be to rework. It’s bittersweet, but there ain’t such a thing as a perfect movie.

This has been fun for me to go into though, and it’s nice to get thoughts out from just swirling around inside my head, so even if barely anyone sees and makes it through this whole dissertation, I’m glad I wrote it out. It’s a funny way to derive enjoyment from the bumpy part of a beloved movie, but hey, I’ll take it~

[reachexceedinggrasp]

"The rest of them are fucked" In what way? Cause I saw the latest SW too and I feel like Finn was regressed completely (and John Boyega all over social media shittalking The Last Jedi and insulting poor Kelly Marie Tran has not helped in any way) but I feel like Daisy did her best with very bad material.

They were already failing to break out, neither of them got that big-enough non-sw part between films to cement themselves as stars outside of the franchise. You need to establish a screen presence which allows the public to remember you and not just your character. If you don’t do that when you’ve been discovered in one of these massive all-encompassing franchise films you’re usually in trouble. If you become synonymous with that part and with whatever the movies meant for people, you won’t get work doing something else. People won’t accept you or want to see you as an actor. Not to be like, rude, but especially Americans. Americans have a long-standing history of not separating characters from actors very well, which is one of the two big reasons Hollywood villains are usually played by British actors.

Daisy has the potential to be a great actress, imo, but her performances as Rey have been uneven and with the final film the character is now ultimately an empty shell which is totally unconvincing. She’s also deeply, spiritually tied up in every single piece of godawful fuckery from this travesty. It’s all to try to legitimise and boost Rey as some perfect, unchallenging franchise avatar to replace the real characters sw used to be about and placate the shittiest part of the fandom- Disney wanted to create a new superhero. This is not the fault of the character (who had 2/3s of an arc before this and could have been amazing) nor is it the fault of the actress, but people will resent both.

People will resent that Rey basically becomes a horror movie monster (the Palpatine who systematically steals every single piece of Ben’s life and legacy as the Skywalker/Solo/Organa scion up to and including his family’s love and the literal energy from his body), that she is now an anti’s dream self-insert (never tempted, no organic conflict, weak-ass version of Ben’s ‘son of darkness’ arc without any of his trauma and where anything bad she ever does is because of Palpatine’s sperm not because she could possibly make a mistake, no consequences no challenges, handed everything), that she is now everything that fanboys ever accused her of being (usurper, Most Specialist who completely warps the narrative/other characters around her, no struggle, no failure, no heroic choice). That the story they loved and the entire cast of the PT/OT have been wiped out and their characters butchered to anoint this Born Good ‘Innately Moral’ goddess of morally bankrupt predestination takes for no reason. This character is the face of almost everything wrong with TRoS and it was done in service of her ‘rise’. And DLF will memorialise the most insulting line in blockbuster history all over a bajillion toys, constantly reminding everyone of it.

No one is coming out of this feeling good about her character (very opposed parts of the audience are all equally outraged at how she has been completely ruined and people who never liked her are outraged about how what was done to her ruined everything else) and the actress is very much synonymous with the character. The marketing and JJ fuckface Abrams have always leaned in to this idea that she’s synonymous with the character and that’s an extremely dangerous line to push for a breakout role which already wasn’t about her acting at all. Dangerous to her career, I mean. This press tour also reflects very poorly on most of the people involved in it, including her, and that’s going to stick.

Abrams and Terrio will continue to work because being absolute cartoonish hacks who shouldn’t be allowed to hold pens has only ever paid off for them in the past, but I bet the woman will be punished. I don’t think she deserves to go down for this and I agree she did beautiful work when she got something she could play, I just think she probably will go down for this. They might even deliberately throw her under the bus if the greatest part of responsibility for this catastrophe goes as high up the chain as rumour suggests.