#rose savage doesn’t hit the same

[useless-englandfacts]

Every day I think about the fact that if my mum had been a little cooler she would have given me a different flower name and I could have been Lily Savage. I could have Slayed.

[timextoxhajima]

The Boyz as things and feelings (just cause)

this is a small thing @haechanhues​ needed help with so i decided to make it an actual post uwu [this is gonna be pretty long cause i might write little scenarios]

[THE BOYZ AS THINGS AND FEELINGS]

SANGYEON - MIRRORS AND PILLOWS

mirrors make a place look bigger than it really is - i feel like sangyeon has that ability to make you feel like you’re more important on your worst days

the things he’ll do just to make sure you’re alright, even when he knows you’re not

he also has the ability to reflect what you need: sad? he’ll come and hug you and let you cry or talk about your shitty day. happy? he’ll joke about the way you snort while laughing then he’d probably do something dumb to keep the energy up there

mirrors also feel very private and at-home, and that exactly how i feel he curates an environment

pillows are self-explanatory ig, smth to cry into, smth to fall asleep with while hugging, has the best homely scents ever, very comfortable

i imagine going home after a long day and finding your partner also tired, but he’s cooking or like in the couch watching tv and he just invites you into his arms uwu

“tell me about everything! whatever that makes you happy or sad and i’ll try my best to be who you need at that point of time!”

JACOB - FLOWERS AND MUSIC

ok like jacob with a guitar is just a stellar sight to behold, he looks like he was born to hold one, and his vocals are super underrated imo, most of tbz’s discography doesnt really suit his voice - i really wish he had a chance to have more lines in more ballads or maybe even a solo thing

he would drag you out to go on walks after he knows you’ve buried yourself in your work the whole day, and he’d be the kind to stop at a pretty flower and contemplate plucking it but he wouldn’t cause he’s a fairy and wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a pretty flower

would probably play a piece in the background while you’re stressed w work and hum a tune so the singing wouldn’t distract you

would stop when he notices you stopped working and your sad ass is probably crying lmao

he’s a very soft and gentle man imo

he’s the innocent daisy amidst other bright colored, flamboyant flowers but he still stands out

“i’ll grow you a rose bush in the yard so i don’t have to be sad about plucking flowers next time.”

YOUNGHOON - WINTER COATS AND COFFEE AND PASTRIES

he definitely radiates tsundere vibes on first sight, but when you get to know him, he’s obviously the opposite: a crybaby

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep up his model-like appearances when he’s outside - in fact, he’d be the one to influence you into caring more about how you look (of course not materialistically, but more into actually caring about making yourself feel good with your fashion and appearance)

i chose winter coats as a symbol of coverage - he doesn’t show much of himself unless he’s close to you (like when you wear winter coats to keep warm, he’s a burrito because he doesn’t bother too much about sharing his feelings), but when he does, it feels like he has the ability to keep you warm and comfortable, even on the coldest days, even if his inner savage comes out

it’ll be like he scooped you into his coat and has you warm in one of this inner breast pockets

i see him as the kind to get regular coffee and like, a tart or something, at a cafe. it adds on to the warmth, when he remembers what you like. the details. maybe you like your coffee with cinnamon or less sugar or something, but then he tops it up with a muffin and he knows you like it heated up so he specifically asks for them to do so

ok but he’s defo the kind of guy that catches people’s attention at public spaces so every now and then when he’s laughing or smiling, some girl would gawk at him and he would be embarrassed about it, but lucky for you, you’re already wearing matching coats so they know the man’s taken uwu

“if only they knew how long it took to convince you to wear that coat.”

HYUNJAE - CONCERTS AND CONVENIENCE STORE DATES

classy but calm. dream-like but realistic. 

i say concerts as in the instrumental, ballad kinds. he loves it and he knows you probably need the sleep where you have that kind of background white noise/music that provides you the best quality of sleep there is. but when you’re not dosing off, he’s admiring how much time you’re willing to invest into being at something he loves

of course, in turn, he doesn’t complain much when you’re hungry and you meet him down the street at the nearest convenience store for some instant noodles and potato chips with a coke and he lets you ramble about your day 

he would probably buy you an ice cream just so you’d feel better, then regret it when you get a stomachache later cause it was like 2am in the morning

you probably have like 5 of his hoodies at home that you refuse to wash cause his scent is tainted all over it and the only time he gets to take them home is when he stays over or visits and he sneaks one into his bag when you’re in the kitchen making tea or a bowl of noodles

then you’ll get it back without even knowing it was gone

the kind that would probably surprise you after a day of work with a casual date idea to the movies, and i mean showing up at your place, impromptu, after he knows you’re home with two tickets 

“act like my girlfriend for once and go on a date with me, would you? your work isn’t going to be there with you when you die at 90.”

JUYEON - STARGAZING AND VR GAMES

as dumb and sometimes bimbotic as he seems he is, he’s gotten most of the visible constellations memorised and he would not hesitate from telling you all about his childhood with his family when they would travel and try to spot every single constellation they can remember

which brings me to the point where he remembers what you like, but... backhandedly. he doesn’t remember what you like but he remembers what you hate instead, so you don’t ever have to worry about getting that licorice flavoured jelly bean

he would offer a midnight walk to help you relieve your stress, cause he knows you just like seeing the nightsky amidst the peace and quiet while he rambles on for his own satisfaction. not everything has to be so emotionally attached and shared. you can share blissful moments without being the reason for each other’s and that’s totally fine.

juyeon is kind of a scaredy cat in the sense that he isn’t really into horror movies or games but he’s always had that dream to become a pilot and so for his birthday, you brought him to a vr game arcade where he played some plane simulator and ever since, you’ve been taking turns to surprise each other with a new vr arcade spot or adding on to the vr game console set you have at home

“maybe i should digitalise you so i can see you in the vr game”

KEVIN - KARAOKE SESSIONS AND NEON LIGHTS

the best-friend kind of partner you would come across once in a lifetime

a billion film shots of you after he drags you to the karaoke and he beats you at super intense songs like the bohemian rhapsody just cause he can hit those high notes and solely because he was screaming on the floor when he did it

almost left his film camera behind 

absolutely LOVES those walks along streets where there are a million neon lights

would come across that one sus neon light signs that indicate a sex toy store and he would give you that sly smile and probably joke for you to go in 

kevin has a moon neon light in his room and you have a star or something (whatever you want)

corrects your grammar and pronunciation, only for you two to bicker about it even more when you use google translation and there are different pronunciations depending on where/what accent you’re using

he really is your light in the dark, even if he’s known to be introverted. once he’s comfortable enough with you, he makes you feel like the most important person in the world

has one of those portable speaker microphones at home and he drones on and on and on with some billie eilish song until you hurl a pillow at him

“so you’re the tough girl, like it really rough girl, justcan’tgetenoughofkevingirl, chest always so puffed girl”

CHANHEE - DUETS AND STRAWBERRY PICKING

(i could not find a more candid, softer aesthetic pic for chanhee rip)

his entire wardrobe fits you - the only problem is that he’ll never let you wear it in fear that you’d stain or tear something

shared playlists because that’s how similar your taste in music is, and so sometimes when you have your earpiece in and you’re humming the melody of that song, chanhee picks it up immediately despite not hearing that song, and ends up harmonising with you

got kicked out of the library once or twice because it was exam period and the two of you won’t shut up

ironically doesn’t sing that much if you’re not around

chanhee is a true blue introvert - which is a miracle that you’ve managed to tear through that barrier of his and find out that he giggles at every stupid thing you do: he’s having a bad day? trip over the pavement. he’ll laugh. it works

dragging him out to go strawberry picking was so difficult - but of course chanhee isn’t safe from how beautiful and enticing the fresh fruits were.

didn’t touch anything strawberry flavoured OR any strawberries for the next month or so

his straightforwardness comes with the breakdown of his barrier - but that’s what brings you comfort. he will never lie, he will only be sarcastic and even then, you’d know it’s true

i used duets as a symbol of harmony and being in-sync, though never really exactly the same, and that’s how it is with chanhee. your thoughts are very similar even though he’s much more introverted than you, but that’s what binds you 

“i’m gonna tell the librarian i don’t know you if we get kicked out again.”

CHANGMIN - CITY TOURS AND MATCHING OUTFITS

city tours - the kind that you already know inside out and yet you STILL travel the area as if you were a tourist 

that’s exactly how it is with changmin: you know him inside out, after being friends for so long, but it never gets old

you’re used to him biting your hand out of nowhere and yet it startles you all the time. that stupid chucky doll in his living room? old, but it never fails to scare you

he doesn’t ever talk about it that much, but he loves it when you co-ordinate outfits

no, it doesn’t mean you wear couple tees, but it’s aesthetically pleasing to changmin that if he wears cool tones, you would too

he’d be reserved about his thoughts and feelings sometimes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think or feel them

there’s a strange sense of familiarity with changmin, because you kind of know what to expect but then you’re never disappointed, you know?

“i got you this white pigeon cause it looks like the one i already got... you can give it back to me if you don’t like it though-” /he takes it before you can accept it/

HAKNYEON - STAND UP COMEDY SHOWS AND RUNNING ALONG THE BEACH

there’s something about ju that makes it very casual and easy-going

he hates horror genred themes so fuck that, he would queue online just for the latest ali wong comedy show, even if it’s an online show, and he would laugh until he cried

sometimes he’s a drama queen but that makes it alot easier for you to know what he’s thinking or feeling - it makes communication alot easier

that means a lack of arguments

he’s also very empathetic but straightforward, exactly like how comedy shows are - because they are relatable, they are funny because they bring out the irony and sarcasm and all the dumb things in life that people are sometimes afraid of talking about and hak just says whatever he wants to say, even if he knows it might be hurtful or upsetting

he prioritises truth and honesty over anything else

it makes you a better person, honestly

beach walks - very calming, very liberating. he lets you yell and scream and kick sand back into the water because you can, and he does it with you

tries to teach you how to skip rocks but you suck and you can’t so he just pulls you away from the pile of rocks you amassed

“flick your wrist like that, not like you’re meowing!”

SUNWOO - SOCCER FRIENDLIES AND STUDIO SESSIONS

he will NOT go easy on you in a friendly match: you might be one of the fastest players of the female team but he’s ruthless in his ball-stealing, so even if you were fast enough to keep the ball out of his reach, he’d still be able to snatch it right out between your feet

very, very competitive and does not like to lose

you would always play the ‘ladies first’ card but then he’d throw the ‘feminism’ card back at you 

sometimes you act more like siblings than anything else 

the only time when he isn’t fuming with competition is if you’re injured because he accidentally tackled you - he’ll gracefully give himself a yellow card before absolutely trashing you in the next match

has one foot into the production game recently - likes to play with the beat board and mixing tunes, and since you’ve had your hand in doing music remixes for a deejay job before, you’re there to identify which songs have the same bass line or beat counts for easier mixing

would make you a playlist of remixes but wouldn’t admit that he spent a whole day in the studio without you just so it would be a surprise

a soft boy stuck in the wraps of an egoistic man

“a day? please. i illegally downloaded half these remixes off the internet cause i’d think you’re too internet-dumb to find them.”

ERIC - BAKING AND SKATEBOARDING

full of impromptu, casual ideas to hang out 

baking is a fucking mess - why did he suggest it when he doesn’t even have the right ingredients?

wanted to replace eggs with water - like ok thats supposedly healthier, but why????????????

he likes cleaning so that was the only fucking bonus in baking - had to call his mom for help halfway through because the cookies looked more like goop than playdough

gave up in the end and he repaid his debt by helping clean your kitchen

tried to teach you how to skateboard, but he ended up falling off his own in the process and now he’s got a grazed knee 

the kind of person you’d have so much chaotic fun with, he’s that friend your mom told you to NOT hang out with that much if not you’d get run down by a car 

has the most fucking random pieces of clothing in his wardrobe, like where did he even get that pink coat from?

“no you have to do this and like lift up your leg and then kinda rest your weight on it before flicking your ankle and like- whOA- OH OW OHNO OHOHOH OW”

[newtonsheffield]

Hiii i absolutely loved the epilogue, sooo cute and funny and the ending 🥺 but now i have this teeny tiny question if you don't mind how do you imagine the night of the Formal if Katie had actually gone with someone else? like I just know jealous baby Anthony will be so funny, sorry i know that would be like an au of an au of an au (lol) but i just loooove fics with dances because i don't get any of those where i am from

I'm so glad you enjoyed the epilogue of A Letter That You Never Read! I really had no idea when I posted that story that people would like it quite so much but... I guess you guys did?

Anyway I would be more than happy to share with you a tiny taste of Jealous teenage Anthony, quietly brooding away in the corner. @missfairygodmother was also interested in seeing Baby Anthony get a little green eyed over Kate

In this AU of an AU of an AU

Anthony had been nervous all afternoon, well, for weeks, months actually, as he'd tried to pluck up the courage to ask Katie Sheffield if she would go to the formal with him. But every time he'd been around her, he just couldn't choke out the words. She always seemed so far above them all, distancing herself from the mundanity of teenage life, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria quietly reading a book while idiots hit each other with the dinner trays around her, her eyes rolling slightly as she walked past them. So he hadn't done it.

But he'd found himself considering what she would like, when he picked out his suit. Her backpack was green, was that her favourite colour? Would she like it if he wore a tie that colour? What flowers would she like to see on his buttonhole? Roses? or tulips or peonies or something else completely?

"Why don't you ask Katie to go with you?" His mother had said gently as they'd stood in the store and the woman taking his measurements had asked what his partner was wearing. "She doesn't want to go with me, Mum." He'd mumbled, more than a little embarrassed, deeply regretting the incidents that had caused her to become aware of his futile crush. "Did you ask her?" He shook his head "She barely says anything to me, Mum. She doesn't like me back." And his cheeks had burned with shame His mother had sighed, "I don't suppose it's occurred to you that she might also be too nervous to say anything?" And while Anthony had scoffed, he'd desperately hoped that she was right, even though he knew the very last word that would ever be used to describe Katie Sheffield was nervous.

Be'd told himself, as he got ready, that when he got there, and he saw her, he'd ask her to dance. He would, he would find the courage somehow. And he would tell her that his heart wanted to beat out of his chest whenever he saw her, that he thought she was beautiful and smart, and funny and he wanted to know her. He'd arrived and loitered nervously in the corner of the school gymnasium and then he saw her, and his heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest.

Kate had walked in, heartbreakingly beautiful, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, just like always, her glasses abandoned for the night, which made Anthony frown a little, but that wasn't why his heart broke. No, she was arm in arm with someone else. She paused at the doorway, listening to something her annoyingly handsome and square jawed partner said, her face breaking into a wide smile as he finished. Anthony felt something white hot rip through his chest seething at the back of the other boy's head as they walked further into the room.

Whoever he was, Anthony had never seen him before, but he looked older, a little more mature, and Anthony hated him. Petulantly despised him, almost as much as he despised himself for not asking her. She already has a boyfriend you idiot, of course she does, because you're a fuckwit and she's incredible.

He stood stock still in the corner jealousy tearing through him for god knows how long, wincing as he saw her boyfriend smile down at her, his fingers lightly brushing the flowers at her wrist. Roses Anthony noted, despising the pink tulips currently on his buttonhole. "You could have just asked her yourself you know. She's here with him because he actually asked her." Simon's voice said gently, as he followed Anthony's line of vision as Katie's boyfriend laughed. "Fuck Off Si." Anthony spat out, hating the truth of it, unable to stand in the room another minute he swept outside ignoring her completely as he past, leaning against the side of the building his chest aching.

"Anthony? Are you okay?" Of course she was here. Standing just a few feet away from him, the green of her dress shining in the soft lighting, an Amy Shark song, Adore playing in the background he realised a little belatedly because of course it was. "Yeah, fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He said, ignoring the lump in his throat. "Are you having a good time? Your boyfriend seems nice." Her brow furrowed just a little, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "You just looked kind of upset." Her voice was so soft, her eyes so concerned that right here, in this moment, it was so easy for him to pretend that she felt the same way he did. But she didn't. "Freddie's nice, we always have a good time together." Katie and Freddie. They even had matching names, his stomach churned while his chest burned with jealousy, and he instantly felt sick because he was making this so much about himself, when he should have been glad to see her happy.

Anthony nodded. "You look really nice tonight, Katie." He couldn't help himself. Her eyes widened for a second before she smiled. "Thanks, it's amazing what happens when a girl takes off her glasses right?" "It doesn't have anything to do with that." Anthony said sharply, his eyes catching hers. Surely she knew how beautiful she was. Silence echoed between them for several moments before "Katie?" A male voice called out softly, Freddie appearing seconds later. Katie smiled at him when he arrived, and Anthony's stomach churned again. He wondered for one wild moment, what it would have been like if she never came, if he never came, then he could have gone on pretending he had a chance forever.

"Sorry, Mate, I don't think we've been introduced, Freddie." He said turning towards Anthony, his hand outstretched. Anthony stared down at it for a second and then gritted his teeth. "Freddie this is Anthony." Katie said lightly and Freddie did the oddest thing, his eyes widened, a smirk on his face as he looked between them. "Anthony, I'm so glad to meet you!" He said, suddenly overflowing with happiness. Anthony felt his brow furrow as Katie ducked her head embarrassed. "Mate, I wonder if you could do me a favour, I hurt my leg at Rugby this week." Of course he's a rugby player, Anthony thought savagely. "And I think someone ought to dance with Katie." Anthony's heart stopped. Katie looked nothing short of aghast. "Freddie!" She hissed angrily, nudging him "Anthony, you don't have to,- I'm not- Freddie I'm telling my Mum on you!" Anthony's brow furrowed again, he was missing something here, something he couldn't quite place but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity. He cut across Freddie's "Please, Auntie's not going to do-" "I want to dance with you!" Katie's head nearly shot off her shoulders as it swivelled towards him. Anthony felt his hand ruffle his hair nervously, cursing himself. "If you want to... dance with me that is." He couldn't breathe as her eyes flicked over his face, more than a little guarded until she said.

"Okay. I'd like that." Anthony felt his face break into a bright smile, his heart pounding in his chest as he tugged her back though the doors, leading her to the dance floor, his heart pounding as she wrapped her arms a little awkwardly around him, standing so lose he could count the tiny line of freckles on her nose. Content silence between them as the music swelled in the background. And then everything came slipping from his chest. She was so close he just couldn't help it.

"I really wanted to ask you to come tonight. And I'm sorry, I know it's not fair because you're with Freddie, but I've liked you for a really long time and I can't let you go away to University thinking don't care about you." He was breathing a little heavily by the end of his speech, the warring emotions that had been playing on him all night finally getting the better of him as Katie stared at him, dumbstruck. Anthony let his hands drop. "And now i've made you uncomfortable, I'm really sorry. Sorry." God he had to get out of here, tears were pushing at the back of his throat, clouding his vision, and then her hand caught his. "Freddie is my cousin!" She said, all in a rush, "Well, my step mum's second cousin's son. But I had to bring him because I didn't have anyone else and I was too nervous to come by myself but I really wanted to see you one last time and-" Anthony couldn't help himself, his heart was beating out of his chest as he leaned towards her, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say with his lips on hers.

Her lips were soft against his, unmoving for a moment, before her hands tugged him more tightly against her, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. There was a small smilie on her lips when Anthony pulled back, a broad grin on his own. " I've wanted to do that for a really long time." "Was it worth the wait do you think?" "Abso-fucking-lutely." Their lips met again with a small giggle, and even though Anthony had just said the most embarrassing thing he possibly could have said after kissing a girl, he really couldn't bring himself to care.

[thomaslightwood]

The Sanctuary || Thomastair (from Alastair's POV)

From chapter 19 & 21 from COI!

This was weird to do and even tho I had the dialogue it wasn't as easy to write as I expected. I tried to make this how I imagine Alastair's thought process and it hit a little too close to home so tried my best to do this scene justice. I hope you like it!

•

Alastair barely moved since the door had closed and locked behind the Consul for the last time. 

It has been hours. Alastair was rereading pages of The Prince over and over again, without actually understanding most of them. He randomly turned on pages from time to time, at least to look like he was reading.

Even without looking at Thomas, he was aware where he was in the Sanctuary. Alastair wondered what Thomas thought of him now. After founding out Alastair literally had been stalking him for weeks. Or maybe he was worrying about the fact he was accused for murder. 

At some point, Thomas walked to the door and shook it, like he was hoping even for the slightest chance that the lock and wards had failed.

“A little menacing that the Sanctuary bolts shut from the outside, isn’t it? I never thought about it much before,” Alastair said, his voice was the first loud thing in hours. 

Thomas turned around to look at him. There was something desperate in his face.

“I, er, suppose one might have to keep an unexpectedly dangerous Downworlder out, or something,” Thomas said awkwardly. Alastair looked away.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “On the other hand, it does give the Institute a makeshift prison.”

It was a little creepy when he thought about it. A Sanctuary was supposed to be a sacred place. A place that provides safety and protection. Alastair had never thought he would be held as a prisoner here. And definitely not with Thomas Lightwood.

Thomas wandered a little closer to him. Alastair didn't look away from his book. With the corner of his eye he could see Thomas' messy hair, clothes stained with blood and dirt. His tattoo was bright on his arm.

“Why have you been following me around?” Thomas demanded. 

Alastair’s breath hitched. He didn't expect Thomas to speak to him. “Someone had to,” he said, still staring at his book.

“What on earth does that mean?” Thomas said.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Lightwood,” Alastair said sharply. He didn't want to have a fight with him, not now. Not ever.

Thomas sat down with a thump on Alastair’s mattress. Alastair blinked at him in surprise. 

“I do want the answer,” Thomas said. “And I will not get up until you tell it to me.”

Alastair slowly set his book aside. He could see Thomas' neck, the edge of his white shirt and if he moved his gaze further below there was the promise of his chest, hidden underneath the cloth. Alastair thought about their time in Paris, in the cafe. Thomas' warm skin under his fingers. And many months later, in London, his skin was warm as he remembered it, but marked with the rose compass tattoo.

“I knew you were taking extra patrols,” Alastair said, still thinking about Thomas' tattoo. “And more than that - going out by yourself with a murderer on the loose. You were going to get yourself killed. You’re meant to take someone with you.”

It sounded logical, didn't it? Alastair hoped so because if not Thomas would reveal that Alastair followed him because he wasn't just worried Tom would get himself killed - he wanted to be close to him, to take care of him, to do something for him, even if Thomas wasn't aware of it. 

“No, thank you,” Thomas said. “All these people going out in pairs, announcing themselves every time they speak, unable to make a move without consulting each other - they might as well ring a bell to let the killer know they’re coming. And meanwhile, if you’re not on the schedule, you’re supposed to just sit around on your arse doing nothing. We’ll never catch the murderer if we avoid being out on the streets. That’s where the murderer is.”

Well, this sounded logical too, Alastair thought. Stubborn and reckless but logical.

Alastair was a little amused. “Never before have I heard such a concise statement of the ludicrous philosophy with which you and your school friends go through the world, running toward danger,” he said, stretching. “But that’s not why you were doing what you were doing,” Alastair added. “There’s a little truth to what you just said, but not the heart of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You couldn’t save your sister. So you want to save other people. You want revenge, even if this isn’t the same evil that took Barbara - it’s still evil, isn’t it?” Alastair knew what he said may sound rude and was definitely not his business. But he was also determined to speak the truth. No matter how ugly, no matter how painful. The truth must be faced.  “You want to behave recklessly, and you don’t want your reckless behavior to compromise a patrol partner’s safety. So you went alone.”

Thomas' face told him he was right. 

“Well, I don’t believe you really think that we’re stupid,” Thomas said, “or that we willingly court danger for danger’s sake. If you believed that, you would do more to stop Cordelia spending time with us.”

Alastair scoffed. Like he could stop Cordelia from anything.

“My point,” Thomas went on, an edge to his voice, “is that I don’t think you believe the rude things you say. And I don’t understand why you say them. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s as if you want to drive everyone away.” He paused. “Why were you so awful to us in school? We never did anything to you.”

Alastair winced. For a long moment he was silent. What he could tell? What he could tell to make Thomas believe he's not terrible? Maybe he couldn't. Maybe this wasn't possible. He could only tell Thomas the truth and let him decide.

“I was awful to you …,” he said at last, “because I could be.”

“Anyone can be a bastard if they want to be,” said Thomas. “You had no reason to do it. Your family are friends with the Herondales. You could at least have been kinder to James.”

This wasn't untrue, mostly. But there was so much more than this.

“When I got to school,” said Alastair slowly, the effort costing him, “loose talk about my father had preceded me. Everyone knew he was a failure, and some of the older students decided I was an easy target. They … let’s just say that by the end of the first week, I had been made to understand my place in the hierarchy, and I had the bruises to remind me should I ever forget.”

Those were painful memories. The jokes, the vicious words and the other kids' fists. Back then he thought he would never allow someone to treat him like that again, even if this meant he would become a monster himself.

“After about a year of being knocked around,” Alastair went on, “I realized I could either become one of the bullies, or suffer for the rest of my school days. I felt no loyalty to my father, no need to defend him, so that was never a problem. I wasn’t very big - well, you know what that’s like.”

He eyed Thomas for a moment. Looking self-conscious, Thomas shrank back a bit. Physically he had grown so much, his muscles were visible through the shirt. 

“What I did have,” said Alastair, “was a savage tongue and a quick wit. Augustus Pounceby and the others would collapse laughing when I cut some poor younger student down to size. I never got my hands bloody, never hit anyone, but it didn’t matter, did it? Soon enough the bully boys forgot they’d ever hated me. I was one of them.”

“And how did that turn out for you?” Thomas said in a hard voice.

Alastair looked at him matter-of-factly. “Well, one of us has a close-knit group of friends, and the other one has no friends at all. So you tell me.”

“You have friends,” Thomas said. Alastair snorted at this. He didn't. Not really.

“Then you arrived, a bunch of boys from famous families, too well brought up to understand at first what went on far from home. Expecting the world would embrace you. That you would be treated well. As I never had been.” Alastair pushed back a lock of hair. His hands were shaking. He was so bitter then, so full of anger at the injustice of the world. He took a breath, hoping Thomas didn't notice. “I suppose I hated you because you were happy. Because you had each other - friends you could like and admire - and I had nothing like that. You had parents who loved each other. But none of that excuses the way I behaved. And I do not expect to be forgiven.”

It hurted Alastair to say it, to think about it. But he really didn't think the Merry Thieves would forgive him - he wasn't surprised. If he was at their place he probably wouldn't forgive himself too. 

“I’ve been trying to hate you,” Thomas said quietly, “for what you did to Matthew. You richly deserve to be hated for what you have done.”

Alastair looked Thomas in the face. “It wasn’t just his mother I slandered. It was your parents, too. You know it. So you don’t have to—to act all high-minded about this. Stop pretending you are only upset on behalf of Matthew. Hate me on your own behalf, Thomas.”

Part of him wanted this. One small, self-destructive part wanted Thomas to hate him. To tell him so. To lash out his anger at Alastair, so he could feel his pain in his bones, to remember it and to carry it with himself like he carried his own.

“No,” Thomas said firmly. He looked so sure, like this wasn't even an option. Like it was the law of nature, something that cannot.

Alastair didn't know how to react. Tension was freezing his body and mind and he could just blink at him.

“The reason I cannot hate you is because—because of those days we spent in Paris together,” he said. Alastair stomach flipped. “You were kind to me when I was very alone, and I am grateful. It was the first time I realized you could be kind.”

Alastair stared at him. The little light they had was doing strange things to Thomas' appearance. His hair looked lighter but his face was in shadow, making his eyes seem darker and deeper than usual. “It is my favorite memory of Paris as well.” Was Alastair saying this? Was this really his voice?

“You don’t have to say that. I know you were there with Charles.”

Alastair stiffened. He looked away. “Charles Fairchild? What about him?”

“Wouldn’t that be your best memory of Paris?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

Alastair’s jaw was rigid. “Exactly what are you suggesting?”

He didn't want to do anything with Charles anymore. He wanted to move on. But it wasn't his business to reveal Charles' secrets. Alastair wouldn't do this to him.

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’ve seen the way you look at Charles, the way he looks at you. I’m not an idiot, Alastair, and I’m asking …” Thomas shook his head, sighing. His face was different than the past few months. The way he looked at Alastair… like he was searching for something. There was a deep ache in his eyes. “I suppose I’m asking if you’re like me.” 

•

“Thomas Lightwood,” said Alastair. “I am nothing like you.”

If there was something in the whole world he was sure about, it was this.

He saw how Thomas' eyes widened. A pained expression on his face. Terror and humiliation were creeping in his eyes.

“I am nothing like you, Thomas,” Alastair continued, “because you are one of the better people I have ever known. You have a kind nature and a heart like some knight out of legend. Brave and proud and true and strong. All of it.” He smiled bitterly. He meant every word. “And all the time you have known me, I have been a terrible person. So, you see. We are nothing at all alike.”

Thomas’s gaze snapped up.

“I’m not—” Thomas breathed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.” The words hung between them, neither daring to move a muscle. After a moment Alastair added in a gentler voice, “How did you know about Charles?”

“You wouldn’t tell me what you were doing in Paris,” said Thomas. “But you mentioned Charles, over and over again, like you got pleasure out of just saying his name. And when you came to London this summer, I saw the way you looked at him. I know what it is to have to hide the—the signs of affection.”

“Then I imagine you may have noticed I don’t look at Charles that way anymore,” Alastair said and couldn't not think what a lovesick fool he was.

“I suppose I did,” Thomas said, “though for the past four months, I’ve been trying not to look at you. I told myself I hated you. But I could never really make myself. When Elias died, all I could think about was you. What you must be feeling.”

Alastair winced. “I insulted your father and blackened his name. You were under no obligation to care about mine.”

Elias was something Alastair carefully avoided to think about. The unsaid words, the anger and all the disgust, resentment and undescribable loss of his father in so many ways was too much to bear.

“I know, but sometimes I think that it is much harder to lose someone who we are on bad terms with than it is to lose someone with whom all is well,” Thomas said kindly.

Tears filled Alastair's eyes. 

“Bloody hell, Thomas. You should hate me, not be thinking about what I must be feeling—” Alastair swiped at his eyes. Raziel, his kindness. It was good he didn't deserve, a blessing so precious it made him want to cry. Why couldn't Thomas just hate him? Why couldn't he be like Matthew Fairchild and hate him? It would be deserved. It would be easier. “And the worst of it is, you’re right, of course. You always understood other people so well. I think I partly hated you for it, for being so kind. I thought, ‘He must have so much, to be able to be so generous.’ And I thought that I had nothing. It never occurred to me that you had secrets too.”

“You were always my secret,” said Thomas softly, and Alastair turned a surprised gaze at him. His face was so open, so vulnerable. It was so different, they both were, since the first time they met but… at the same time so soft, so kind like it was at the Academy, at Paris and now, at the Sanctuary again. 

“Does no one know?” said Alastair. “That you—like men? How long have you known?”

“Since after I came to school, I think,” Thomas said in a low voice. “I knew what caught my eye, quickened my pulse, and it was never a girl.”

“And you never told anyone?”

Thomas hesitated. “I could have told my friends that I liked men. They would have understood. But I couldn’t have told them how I felt about you.”

“So you did feel something for me. I thought-” Alastair looked away, shaking his head. “I didn’t see you—you were this boy, following me around at school, and then I met you in Paris and you’d grown up and turned into Michelangelo’s David. I thought you were beautiful. But I was still caught up with Charles—” He broke off. “Just another thing I’ve wasted. Your regard for me. I wasted my time and my affection on Charles. I wasted my chance with you.” 

It would definitely be easier if Thomas hated him, Alastair thought with bitterness. But now, knowing he wasted his time with a man who would choose his career over Alastair every time when he could be with Thomas—it was too much. Another tragedy in his life, another wasted opportunity….

“Maybe not,” Thomas said. He sounded dizzy. “About me, I mean.”

Alastair blinked. “Speak sense, Lightwood,” he said testily. His words couldn't reach Alastair's brain. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this,” said Thomas, and leaned towards Alastair.

It was a quick kiss. Unsure and shocking and so, so sweet.

Thomas drew back hesitantly. It was obvious he didn't know if this was alright, if he wasn't crossing a line. Alastair caught hold of Thomas’s shirtfront in a firm grip. He slid onto his knees so that they faced each other; with Thomas sitting back on his heels, their heads were at the same level.

“Thomas—” Alastair began. His voice was rough, unsteady. He had a hard time getting a grip on himself. Abruptly, Alastair let go of Thomas’s shirt, started to turn his face away.

“Just imagine,” Thomas said. “What if we’d never gone to the Academy together? What if none of those things had happened, and Paris was the first time we’d met? And this was the second?”

Alastair said nothing. It was an impossible scenario. Just a comfort fantasy for the cold, sad nights that ended up hurting you more than healing you.

He smiled weakly. “Damn you, Thomas,” he said, and there was resignation, yes. Because he was so done pretending, so done hiding what he was feeling towards this amazing man. He wanted to feel every dark, forbidden and sweet thing there was with Thomas.

A moment later he was pulling Thomas toward him. Their bodies collided, awkward and thrilling. Alastair knew he was probably the more experienced of the two but he was barely aware what he was doing. 

He had never imagined he would be able to do all this. To touch Thomas' chest, his shoulders and back, his tattoo and Adam's apple. He had never imagined Thomas would tenderly kiss the arch of his throat and smile against Alastair's skin. He had never imagined he would be so happy while waiting to be proved innocent for a crime. But while he was kissing Thomas Lightwood, he thought it was worth it.

[chaos-caffeinated]

Miracle of a Chance (Alcina Dimitrescu fanfic)

Characters: Alcina Dimtrescu, Bela Dimitrescu, Cassandra Dimitrescu, Daniela Dimitrescu, and Ezekiel Dimitrescu (oc)

Relationship(s): Alcina Dimitrescu and Ezekiel Dimitrescu, Alcina/reader,

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu has a passionate hatred for men, until a baby boy has been introduced in the family. Does she reject him completely to Mother Miranda, or does a maid have a few tricks up her sleeve to keep the child for herself?

The wind had rushed faster and colder, making the baby that was bundled up in stiff arms cry harder for someone to take him somewhere warmer than this, begging for his mother to calm him down, but the blood trickling down his face was not sufficed. His stressed cries continued until a wooden door opened and a hesitant maiden walked out as you were confused.

"A baby?...Ingrid, come here please, there's a baby." You whispered.

~

Two intruders had breached on the Castle of Dimitrescu and all maidens were ordered to stay in the kitchenette or else they would die (either by the intruders or herself, but it was both bad). That was an hour ago, and it was dead silent for a couple of minutes. Many of the maids were terrified to make a single sound, waiting for the lady herself to make an announcement to get back to work, but nothing occurred yet. No one made the comment if something had occurred to her, no one would ever make that assumption.

That was until a faint cried was heard and many stiffened. Did the lady capture the intruders, was she in the process of finishing them off?

One brave maiden stepped forward, getting closer to the door until another grabbed your hand to avoid a potential incident, "(Y/N) what are you doing?" a harsh whisper came from Breve, a maiden that was too terrified to get in contact with the lady, much less with the intruders, "You'll get us killed- can't you see that it's a scheme to get you out to attack us?"

You didn't say anything because you were trying to decipher the sound, "No, that's not a human adult, Breve...That doesn't sound like them at all..." You opened the door and pushed it.

You were right, as you stepped closer to the lump of bloodied bodies on the snow, almost covered by it until she gasped, "Breve, bring some towels and blankets, hurry!" You exclaimed and rushed to the crying baby, trying not to slip.

You were confused, horrified by the grotesque view of a baby being wrapped by a body, but not knowing who it was who held them. Your best guess was the mother, but now you took the bundle into your hands and placed your hand on their cheek, noticing the freezing temperature they were at. You rushed back inside, and you huddled the maidens together, to their surprise it was a baby.

"Why would the intruders have a baby?"

"Did Lady Dimitrescu secretly have a baby the intruders stole?"

"How careless of them to bring this child."

"Everyone be quiet and help me warm this child!" You nearly shouted at them as you and Breve changed the towels to notice the child's external area, "It's a boy..." You whispered, sadness and pity laced in there. They knew what was to come for any male who set foot in the castle, and they lamented the boy who hadn't had the chance to live his own life.

"The baby was doomed from the start when his parents brought him here.."

"What if...what if we dressed him up as a girl?" one of them suggested, "And convince Lady Dimitrescu that he is one of our children?"

One of them scoffed, "You want to deceive THE lady of the castle? That's a sure way to the cellar." She argued.

As the maidens talked among themselves, the maiden that held the baby walked closer to the stove that would surely make him warm up, "Whatever the case may be, child, right now you deserve some warmth." You lightly brushed the small amounts of dark hair to the side, caressing his brown skin, "If you are indeed....taken far too early, at least right now you are living to the fullest." You pulled him to you chest, one hand placed on the side of his face, hugging him.

In the next hour, the lady opened the door to the kitchen unannounced, and bent at her waist slightly to enter the room, "Maidens, the castle is now safe. Return to your duties." Her eyes emotionlessly scanned as the maidens returned, most walking out of the kitchen to their previous task. When she bent and stepped out to head over to her chambers, she was called out, "Lady Dimitrescu..."

She turned halfway, glancing down to see one of her dedicated maids holding...

"...a baby?" She asked, waiting for the information she was going to receive.

"In the duration of the intrusion, there was a baby crying and I found them cradled in their parent's cold embrace...it would be immoral of me to attempt raising a child without your acknowledgment, so I would like to give you the child myself."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she glanced at the sleeping baby, their lips moving slightly, the baby was still alive to her surprise, "Were these the intruders I killed earlier?" She questioned, "After I have informed every maiden to stay in the kitchen?" Her eyes rose over to see the anxiety that appeared on the maiden's expression.

"I'm sorry my lady, but as...as a mother of a child myself...I couldn't ignore a baby needing their mother."

Lady Dimitrescu was quiet for a bit as that silently hit a chord with her, and her attention went back to the child, "What's it's sex?" She questioned.

The maiden gulped softly, hesitantly responding before Lady Dimitrescu spoke again with a heavier tone, "What is it's gender?"

"Male...my lady."

Her eyebrows furrowed as her expression switched into an angered one, "Male?! You dare bring a male inside MY castle?!" She raised her voice at the maiden, scolding at you, ready to attack if even more provoked.

"He is a child, my lady...abandoned by his parents-" you tried to explained.

"It still doesn't excuse that he is a male!"

"Give him a chance, please my lady, I would give my life to give him a chance." You pleaded, your voice trembling with fear.

"My dear..." She leaned slightly forward, her hand on her hip, "He was given three chances to live already, why should he get another when I prefer my maidens over this male child?" She lowly snarled at you, warning you for the next words that would come out of your mouth.

The maiden's eyes widen slightly in shock at how correct she was, "And it's because of these chances he keeps getting that...he deserves to live...in the castle, taught by the lady herself...avoiding...the terrible things savage men do."

The sound that erupted from the lady made the maiden flinch as she watched laugh in a mocking way, "Avoiding terrible things savage men do under my care? My dear, you've been here long enough to know that all men are the same. That man-thing you have in your arms will be a 'savage man'." She explained as she pointed at the child for a bit.

The maiden was silent for a bit, and you looked down at the baby, "I'm sorry I couldn't succeed." She whispered at him, "But I gave you everything you needed in these moments." She looked back at the lady, holding back her tears, "Should I place him on his parents outside, my lady?"

She reached her hand out, pursing her lips, opening her palm, "Just hand him to me, I'll hand him over to Mother Miranda as I have no use for him."

Being a believer in Mother Miranda and her set beliefs, you believed he would be in good hands. You placed the baby in her hand and she carried him not too close to her, "Now, get to work."

"Thank you, Lady Dimitrescu." The maiden bowed slightly and went to her tasks.

Lady Dimitrescu walked up the stairs and took her path to her chambers. She didn't once look at the child.

[nightingaelic]

Companions react to the Courier destroying Hoover Dam on a Yes Man run.

This kind of turned into an opportunity for me to write Yes Man dialogue, anyway

The screens before the courier crackled and rolled blank slides for a bit before the familiar, friendly face of Yes Man popped up to greet them. "Hi! Nice to see you again!"

"Nice to see you, too," the courier replied with a smile, wiping some sweat from their brow. "Alright, what's next?"

"Soooo..." Yes Man's face was solid, static, but his voice retained its usual singsong tone. "We can blow up the dam's generators, or I could route the dam's entire power output to the Fort. That'll activate a certain army of Securitrons and set them loose to ravage the Legion! What do you say?"

The courier nodded and took a deep breath. "I want this dam out of operation."

Yes Man didn't even pause. "Right, who wants a vast army of mechanical servants to savage your enemy? Why make it easy? I'm setting the generators to blow, just like you asked. Hit the manual switch, then go topside and deal with the Legion and NCR."

Arcade Gannon: "Oh, yes." Arcade's eyes sparkled with delight and a whole lot of conviction. "This is going to be so good for New Vegas. Any excuses the NCR might've had for sticking around will be gone, if we can beat the Legion back completely."

"We still have to take out Lanius," the courier replied, a little more unsure than their companion. "Which, may I point out, will be a hell of a lot harder without Securitrons backing us up?"

"I have every confidence in you," Arcade reassured them. "I saw what you did to Caesar."

"You've certainly blown my expectations out of the water!" Yes Man added. "And my expectations are locked into a consistently-high level to begin with!"

The courier took a deep breath and nodded to Arcade. "Ready if you are."

Craig Boone: "You know what this means," Boone said darkly, gripping his rifle tightly.

The courier nodded. "I do. But it's for the best. We can't keep living under the shadow of the bear."

Boone tightened his jaw and scowled. "Then I'll see you when it's all over."

With that, he stalked off, back the way they had come.

"Boy, your friend sure didn't like that decision you made!" Yes Man said brightly. "And without those Securitrons, you're really on your own now."

The courier sighed. "Yep. I know."

Lily Bowen: "Blow up the dam?" Lily asked, concerned. "But dearie, we're inside the dam."

"Don't worry, ma'am!" Yes Man replied. "You only need to make sure the generators blow up. The dam itself will stay put for a good, long while afterward. My current projections estimate at least 9,800 years!"

The courier smiled. "There, you see? We'll be perfectly safe, Lily. Aside from the NCR and Legion troops who are going to try to kill us if we do this."

"Not my grandchild," Lily said to that, unsheathing her vertibird blade once again.

"It looks like you're in good hands," Yes Man offered. "See you on the other side of the battle!"

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "You sure about that, boss?" Raul scratched his head beneath his sombrero. "Seems like an awful waste of energy, and we already cut through a whole bunch of those pendejos on the way down here. We could use the help."

"Too late for that!" Yes Man answered cheerily. "The generators are already set to blow! I hope I did that quickly enough for you."

The courier hesitated. "Wait, I thought you said we had options?"

"You certainly did!" Yes Man replied. "And now the power output re-route is inoperative. Your ability to make quick decisions never ceases to amaze me!"

Raul and the courier both swore at the same time, though Raul's curse of choice was in Spanish. "Nothing for it, then," he said with a shrug, taking the brief respite as a chance to reload his pistol.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass made a face. "Is that... safe?"

"Absolutely!" Yes Man's face flipped by on the screen a few times, as if doing a somersault. "Just remain behind the guard rail inside the power plant and duck if any large pieces of metal come flying your way."

"Whoa-ho, no." Cass swung her shotgun around onto her back and put her hands up. "You go on ahead, if that's the plan, Six. I'll stay here and make sure your robotic friend isn't overridden by some ranger with another chip."

"Not only is that statistically unlikely, it's logistically impossible!" Yes Man replied. "I am baked into this set of terminals now. You couldn't get me out of here even if you set this databank on fire!"

"That could be arranged," Cass said skeptically. "There are some heavy troopers with flamethrowers stomping around up top."

Veronica Santangelo: "Six." Veronica pouted. "Think of what you could be doing with all that power, though. I'm not saying you need to have an army of Securitrons, but you could run electricity to practically anywhere that HELIOS One could. Freeside, Westside, Novac..."

"You could even run electricity to the NCR, and charge them money for it!" Yes Man cut in. "Mr. House was a big fan of that idea."

"Oh, I'll bet he was," Veronica replied with a grimace. "Then again, taking out the dam would make sure the NCR didn't have a reason to stick around, after this is all over."

The courier shrugged. "That's the plan."

Veronica sighed. "I suppose you would know best. Just make sure the floor doesn't buckle underneath us, okay?"

ED-E: The eyebot began to vibrate and titter as if implying build-up, then let out a cascade of beeps and did a loop-de-loop in midair.

"Your flying friend says he's excited for the fireworks!" Yes Man translated. "And I am too. Best get moving, before the NCR catches on to what we're doing and tries to shoot you!"

Rex: The cyberdog at the courier's side cocked his head to the right, then looked up at his companion. The courier reached down to pat him on the back of the neck. "Don't worry, boy. I know what I'm doing."

"I sure hope so, or we're all toast!" Yes Man interjected.

[arrivisting]

beginning of a soulmate canon-era Les Mis wip I abandoned:

“I thought,” Grantaire said, and looked from Enjolras to Combeferre. “If anywhere your soul found a match, it would be – Well. I thought it would be other than as it seems.”

“He and I have an affinity,” Combeferre said, calm as milk. If the question, disguised as statement, troubled him, there was no hint of it in voice or expression. “A similarity – that is not the same.”

“Not at all,” Grantaire said, choking on a sudden bolt of laughter, acid as his stomach content. “Not at all – how stupid of me. What we have here is not an even division, his qualities and mine, two halves of a locket hinged together to form one whole, indivisible; it’s a badly mixed tonic. His qualities rose from the mixture, like cream; mine formed the dregs. If we are halves, we are black and white, good and ill. I’m his filtered leavings, not his other half. Put us together, and you won’t complete a course of physic – you’ll infect his pure body with my soul-pox.'

[stuff happens, there's nothing like word tattoos or anything, it's super super rare to find your sundered other soul-half like in the Plato dialogue but you're meant to be able to touch the world with more force & do Great Things working together with your soulmate should you find them; all the great people of history worked hand-in-hand with theirs a là Alexander & Hephaestion, etc.]

“You are my other half,” Enjolras said, his clear features set. “Whether I like it or not; whether you like it or not; we are made for each other. As glove to hand, you are made for my use, and I will use you.”

“If you want to use me,” Grantaire said, hiccoughing at the very thought, “you’ll have to break me to your usage: wear me thin, like a man clenching his fist until his stiff new gloves fit. Mold me until all I am is your shadow, and then discard me when I grow thin and formless.” He turned his eyes more seriously to Enjolras. “Would you do that?”

“For this, I might,” Enjolras said savagely, and then, more quietly, “No, of course not. But if you’re my other – if you are – I don’t pretend to understand what strange sense of humour matched you to me, but there must be a purpose; there must be more to you than I can see.” He seized Grantaire’s arm and pressed it, like his passion could pass from one to the other like a quickened pulse. “Work with me; be the half I need to do what I must. Wings to my feet, not an anchor at my ankles. I have no reason from our acquaintance to expect more from you; and yet you are my half, and therefore, beyond experience, I must hope.”

Grantaire said, quietly, looking at Enjolras’s white fingers on his sleeve, “You will be disappointed.”

“I can’t believe that.”

He hiccoughed again; it was less a reaction to his wine than a cover for a scoff, a sob, a laugh. “But you can! You’d do it as easily as you breathe, had you never discovered yourself in me. I disgust you; I exasperate you; that has long been understood. But you have no experience of loving where you hate, or hating what you need, and so you convince yourself now that I must be more than I am, and doubt your own former judgment. Well, furrow-browed Alexander: I am not your Hephaestion. Your first reading was correct. I have considerable practice with the muddier eddies of emotion, and I will read them clearly for you. You have never looked at yourself in a mirror and been repulsed; why should you, with your shining face and shining soul? I am your other. I am not yourself. If you look for an answering flame in me to make your torch burn brighter, you won’t find it. My hearth is ashes, and if I have a little fitful candle-breath left to me, it’s my own to nurse and cherish, and I won’t surrender it to your pyre, however brilliantly you burn. You may turn the sky to crimson and gold and make the sails of the future fill with your sacrifice, but I’m a jealous man, and I grudge that loss, and you can’t understand that; you have no self, only the res publica. Excellent for you! But I won’t help you carry hot iron in your hands. If you desire a pair of tongs, use another; I can see how you yearn for that distance every time you speak to me. You curl your nostrils like a housemaid handling a dead rat.”

“You could fill those sails yourself,” Enjolras said, “with your ranting.”

“A hit!” Grantaire said. Enjolras’s fingers were still curled in his sleeve. “Challenging me on substance rather than on particulars. How they must love you in the law-courts.”

“I am considering your points.”

“Which of them do you intend to argue? No, don’t tell me; let it all be wafted away like the fumes of my breath. Enjolras – it doesn’t matter. There are earnest young men you can train to fly from your wrist, but I am not they.”

“I am touching you now,” Enjolras said. “Am I flinching?”

“I brushed my coat until it shone only Friday last,” Grantaire excused this lapse. “So that the girls at the gougette could see their faces in it, of course. It gives me a misleading air of consequence.”

“Grantaire.”

“Tell me that it didn’t appall you to learn that your soul was the dancing-partner of mine. Tell me that you didn’t wince then, or deny the stars that aligned us; I won’t believe it.”

“I doubted.”

“Of course.”

“I doubted,” Enjolras repeated. His grip tightened, like he was sure now; like he had needed to touch Grantaire’s corrupt and vulnerable flesh before he could believe, had needed to put his fingers in Grantaire’s wounds and scrape his fingernails across them to observe his flinch. “But you’re not

-

& that's all she wrote.

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: Stone Cold

Ok so i love this prompt but it took forever to get to. And as soon as I did its like suddenly I was swamped with everything. So frustrating. But I finally finished it. And I love it. @vixen-uchiha​

              Marinette was six-years-old when her parents died in a car crash. She had been at school when the vice principle, Mrs. Valmontes, stopped by and pulled her out of class. The little black haired girl had known something was wrong instantly as Valmontes had smiled just a little hard at her and much more gently than what she was known for.

           Still, she had been really surprised to see Office Raincomprix, her classmate Sabrina’s dad, waiting for her in the principle. Marinette always thought he was really nice; always jolly and quick to lend a hand to the teacher at the end of the day if he got to class early to pick up Sabrina. However, he too, seemed rather despondent when Marinette entered the room. His partner, a rookie named Lorna, looked really sad too.

           They took her down to the station where she was led to one of the back offices. Sabrina’s dad waited with her there. And then woman name Susanna LeFlont, who Marinette would later learn was a grief counselor. Then they told her.

           Susanna held her as she cried and begged and called them liars, until she couldn’t cry anymore. And then they gave her a stuffed animal, and said they would try calling her relatives to pick her up.

           They came back an hour later, saying they got ahold of her parents’ emergency contact…

           Marinette’s Uncle Jareth Dupain.

           She had frowned when they said his name because to her he had never been Jareth Dupain. No, he was always her cool Uncle Jagged. So it took her a second to remember that his real name was Jareth Dupain-Stone, her father’s younger half-brother. Marinette even briefly remember her dad mentioning having to change their emergency contact after his mom, Gina, passed away a few ago.

           He was only 20 when Marinette born and he was always a budding Rockstar so he wasn’t around too much. And 6 years later he was the biggest rockstar in the world. Still, that didn’t stop him from rushing to the police station, Penny hot on his trail, and pulled his sweet niece into the biggest hug he could.

           Jagged took his niece to the hotel room to get her settled and had Penny go back to the bakery to get some of her things. He didn’t think it was a smart idea to take her there yet; not when the wounds were still so fresh.

           Still as the twenty-six year old Rockstar stared at the small form cuddled up to Fang, he realized for the first time that he was all Marinette had in the world; the only family she had left. The only family he had left.

           So he knew, despite the lawyers taking days to contact him regarding who Marinette’s guardian would be, that it was him. Jagged was the person Tom had entrusted to protect and watch the most precious thing he had the entire world; his daughter. And he wouldn’t let his brother down.

Tom had always been the best big brother anyone could have. And when Jagged’s own father, Tom’s Stepfather (as tom’s own father had suffered a heartache when Tom was a teen), had walked out, Tom had stepped up. He showed Jagged, who was still called Jareth at the time, how to be a man. He believed in Jagged’s rockstar dream when Jagged didn’t even believe in them himself.

Jagged would do right Tom, by Sabine; he would do what they would do if the situation was reversed and they were given Jagged’s kid to care for.

He would raise Marinette as he own. And though he knew would never come close to being the father that Tom Dupain had been…

Jagged would damn well try to be.

…

…

Jagged Stone, Shattered Roses, Nightmare’s Hail Mary, Unmasked Dragon, True Born Rejects, and Emancipated Mirrors were some of the biggest rock band in the world. Whenever, they went on tour together, they were the epitome of what people thought Rock Stars were. They were loud. They partied all night. Groupies hung around everywhere. To them, it was paradise. When all the bands were invited to go on the Kings of Neverland tour, with Jagged Stone headlining, they expected very much the same as they were used to. Jagged always had the most Rockin tour bus. His parties were legendary. They came to expect it.

However, when Neon Savage (front man of the Shattered Roses), Austin Knight (Leader of Unmasked dragon and lead Guitarist), and Niklaus Bane (Lead vocalist of True Born Rejects) showed up with beers and all other sorts of alcohol the day before their opening concert for the tour, they came across something very unexpected.

Or rather someone.

A little Asian girl with pigtails in her Blue hair, a tiara on her head, in a rainbow tutu paired with a black too large Guns N Roses shirt, her hand on her hips, no shoes, and a rather large crocodile next to her.

“What’s with the ballerina?” Austin asked. He had dyed silver hair done in a stereotypical emo style, grey eyes, and too many piercings. He was slim and tall.

           Niklaus sighed in relief, “Oh good, you see her too!” He had curly blond hair, dark brown eyes, and wore mostly black. He had ripped jeans and a red tie. The tie was as red as the whites of his looked. “Why is your hair blue?”

“Because Uncle said I could,” She answered and pointed a figure at them, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Savage scoffed, “You got that twisted, kid.” He was a bulk guy, with long dark hair, and a severe expression on his face. His arms were covered in tattoos. He played in a metal band, and it was obvious. “Where’s your mommy?”

“Dead,” The little girl said bluntly. “I live with my Uncle Jagged now. This his tour bus, and you’re not supposed to be here.” She glared at them. “Fang, Stranger Danger!”

           What happened next was a bit of a blur. One minute they were fine, the next they were being chased around Jagged’s tour bus by a rather vicious crocodile while pint-sized twerp laughed.

           Lucky for them, their yells for help were overheard by Penny and Jagged who had been working in back, “What’s going on?” Penny asked as she ran in.

“Mates, what the h. e. double hockey sticks is going on?” Jagged asked right on his assistant’s tail.

           Austin, who had jumped on top one of the shelves, gave Jagged a confused look, “Better question; what the hell did you just say?”

“Ooohhhh! There’s five bucks for the swear jar!” The little girl taunted.

           Jagged glared at rockstar, “Watch it! A Kid’s in the room!”

           Savage glared at his longtime friend, “Who the fuck do you think set Fang on us?!” He cast a dark look at the crocodile. “Stranger danger my ass! I’ve known you sent you hatched, you overgrown cheap pair of boots.”

“That’s ten buck for the swear jar!” The girl said.

“Ten bucks?” Austin frowned. “Kinda of steep for just two swear words.”

“I swear to God-” Savage growled but was cut off.

“Chill, mate,” Jagged said. “This is my niece Marinette.” He gave her a loving smile. She beamed up at him brightly. He had been taking care of her for a year now. “I told ya about her.”

“You didn’t say she was Satan!” Austin whined. Fang had bitten him, the slowest of the three, quite a lot, and he had a giant hole in his jacket.

“I’m not Satan,” Marinette huffed. “I’m a ballerina, princess, Rockstar on my way to a tea party with Duchess Rosy Sparkles, of the Unicorn Fairies. And guess what, you’re not invited!”

“Oh that’s just mean,” Niklaus complained.

“She sicked a mini dinosaur on us,” Savaged hissed.

“Yeah, well, now she hurt my feelings.”

           Jagged sighed. The guys were some of his closest friends, and by the look up the “entertainment” they brought, they were ready to raze it up like always. But things had changed. Jagged couldn’t be that guy anymore. “Marinette’s staying with me from now on,” He reminded them. “No parties on the tour. She has a bedtime. And doesn’t need to see “us” at our finest, no matter how Rockin we are.” Jagged shrugged. “Spread the world, my bus is off limits.”

The rock stars grumbled a bit but didn’t leave. They could hang with Jagged without presence of booze, weed, loud music, and groupies. It would be a little weird but they’d managed. Jagged was their friend; they’d known him before any of them became famous and stayed close well after. They hadn’t been there for him as much as they wanted to after Tom died; too many commitments, too many required appearances in different countries that had taken them away. But they were there now. And if being there for one of their best friends meant regularly chilling with a six-year-old, then they’d deal.

Savage grunted, “Austin, get rid of the booze.”

“By ‘get rid of’, I assume you meant put back in my tour bus,” The silver haired guitarist corrected.

           Niklaus raised his hand like he was a student in class, “I get the whole no alcohol thing; that stuff will kill ya. But what your feelings on pot?”

           Jagged just sighed. It was going to be a long summer.

           The three musician, and even the other Rockers on tour, slowly but surely got used to the seemingly near constant presence of a six-year-old around Jagged or running around backstage. And the swear jar was a serious thing. It didn’t count when they were singing on stage but off it and anywhere near Marinette and they found themselves forking over five dollars for ever swear word. It added up a lot. And quickly.

           Jagged’s tour bus, instead of being the Party palace it used to be, now was the chill zone. It was also the cleanest of all the tour buses. No empty beer bottles everywhere. No one random passed out anywhere. No having to watch out for throw up. No rabid fans, as Jagged had increased his security to Tony Stark worthy levels.

           All they had to do was mind their manners and remember that Marinette was very impressionable at her age.

“OH screw you!!!!!!” Savage roared as he jumped up and frantically mashed buttons on his controller. “I’m not losing!”

           They had been babysitting Marinette all day while Jagged did an interview Buzzfeed.

           Austin snickered, “Says you.” His character raced past Savage’s. Only for something to hit him and send poor little Yoshi spinning out of control. “Did you- did you just blue shell me, bitch?” He hissed at Niklaus.

“Nooo!” Niklaus said sarcastically. “Hey!!! Not nice, brat!” He told Marinette after a banana caused him to slip off the ice.

           Marinette smiled easily, but there was a determined look in her eyes. Her hair was jelled into a faux-hawk courtesy of Ashley Crimson, from lead singer for Emancipated Mirrors, an all-girl punk rock band.

“Die, scumbag!” Ashley roared as her racer zoomed by. She was a vivacious redhead. Her and her bandmates got used to being some of the only girls around that weren’t either working for one of the rock stars or were scantily clad fangirls who do “anything” to get backstage.

“You’re going down, twerp!” Savage told Marinette.

“Bite me!” She snapped back just as Jagged and Penny walked into the tour bus.

           Jagged crossed his arms, “What did you morons do to my sweet little niece?”

“Nothing!” Niklaus, Ashley, Savage, and Austin chimed together.

“Savage taught me to throw a punch, and or kill a man.” Marinette smiled happily. “I helped Austin set up a glitter bomb in Nightmare’s Hail Mary tour bus. Niklaus and I are banned from Chuckie Cheese. Ashley and I spray painted her ex boyfriend’s car. Cleo and I got arrested. We disturbed the peace!!” Cleo was a pink haired girl who played drummer from Nightmare’s Hail Mary. She had to rush off for her own interview. “Oh and we’ve only been Playing Mario kart for an hour but they each owe like a hundred bucks to the swear jar.”

           There was silence as the words were processed.

“And not one of us taught her how to keep a freaking secret?” Ashley face palmed.

           Jagged just sighed.

…

…

           For the next few years that was Marinette’s life. Austin, Niklaus, Savage and Ashley became pseudo Uncles and Aunt to Marinette.

She spent most of her childhood on tour with her Uncle; going from to place, concert after concert. Marinette was homeschooled and didn’t mind it. Jagged went on tour with a bunch of different people over the years and she got to meet all sorts musicians; Clara Nightingale, Ed Sheeran, Adam Levine, Brendon Urie from Panic! At the Disco, Taylor Swift. Her favorite were the award shows though. Through them, she got to meet all her favorite actors. And was inspired to start designing on her own clothes after seeing so many fabulous looks. She got to model and do some acting. In her free time, she ran a very popular fashion blog/youtube channel.

The press had always loved her. To them, she was Marinette Stone (Jagged didn’t want her real name released to the media). She was always on the best dressed list, frequently seen with various celebrities, and could be found on the cover of various magazine.

However, when Marinette was eleven, she begged her Uncle to let her go to school with other kids. She was getting older and she wanted to have some type of normal childhood. It took him a year to agree. Her uncle Jagged had become quite protective over the years.

So Marinette went back to Paris. She cut her hair, used her given name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her Uncle bought a grand penthouse not too far away from her new school, and whenever he was gone her bodyguard, a sweet woman named Harlow who was former CIA, was in charge of her. She started at her new school with a smile on her face.

Not long after, she became the hero Ladybug.

Everything was great. She had friends, a normal social life, went to school with other kids her age. She wasn’t constantly being followed around by paparazzi. She still ran her fashion blog and had frequently updates. It was perfect.

It took two years for it to go bust.

The reason’s name was Lila Rossi.

And she was the biggest liar Marinette had ever met. And Marinette had grown up in the entertainment industry.

Lila made wild claims that the other kids just ate up. A simple google search could refute all of them. The ones Marinette could stand was always about Jagged. Like her Uncle, or an airline, would be reckless enough to let a kid race on to an airport to save a cat; not that Jagged had ever own one. Fang was territorial.

Lila made her out to be a bully, and slowly Marinette lost all her friends. Her only one left was Adrien, her partner Chat Noir. The blond and Marinette had modeled together a few times and he had recognized Marinette despite her new looked but he kept it a secret. Because of their history, Marinette developed a crush on the other and Adrien was quick to lose his crush on Ladybug once he found out it was his dear friend behind the mask.

When Marinette was exiled to the back, Adrien was quick to join her (much to Lila’s fury) and nothing could change his mind. Mostly because he was sick of Lila always touching him despite his vocal protests, and Bustier not doing anything about it.

Soon Marinette things started being messed up or destroyed; her homework, her sketchbooks and pencils, her jacket. She was tripped and called rude names. Her cellphone, (Well one of her phones. She had two; one she used as Marinette Stone. One for Marinette Dupain-Cheng; a number only her classmates had.) was filled with mean texts.

Bustier caved to demands and had her excluded from class trips and events due to being a negative influence; again Adrien decided not to go either, and Lila was Akumatized once he said this. Marinette hadn’t been surprised. Bustier always ignored the bullying and harassment clearly happening in front of her. Still, Marinette decided to start recording her classes a hidden camera on her desk, on the corner of the celling and even on top of the whiteboard behind Bustier. It was just in case anything took a serious turn.

Still losing all her friends because of a few promises and dreams of glitz and glamour had been a wakeup call. Her Uncle had warned her. Her Aunt Penny, who Jagged had married with Marinette was ten, had warned her. So did Savage, Ashley, Cleo, Austin, Clara, and Niklaus. They told Marinette to watch out for fake friends and gold diggers, coattail clingers and desperate wannabes; people who would sell out every secret she had to the paparazzi behind her back just for five minutes in the spot light. So called friends who would do anything to get ahead, to get famous.

And it was clear that’s who most of her ex-friends were. Even Lila learned the hard way. When she told Alya about her mom meeting with some important celebrity about their Go Green initiative, this wasn’t a lie as it would turn out. However, the glasses-wearing girl posted it online, despite Lila legitimately asking her to keep it a secret. Lila got in big trouble with her mom apparently.

The teacher, Bustier, was awful but she always had been. Marinette ignored it in the past because at least she had her friends. But if that witch told Marinette to be a better example one more time, it was over.

           Everything came to a head after Marinette got expelled, granted she was brought back after evidence that it was impossible for her to have cheated surfaced, and the bluenette decided enough was enough. She finally gave in and told her Uncle everything.

           Jagged was pissed. He cursed up a storm; enough to fill the swear jar ten times over and buy Marinette a car.

           It took a while to get him to calm down. And to convince him that Marinette could handle it. She had a plan.

           Still, she remembered that Uncle was a wild card.

           Friday, during lunch, Marinette was eating in the cafeteria, when suddenly the lunchroom doors burst open, “Marinette,” Jagged called as he entered, trailed by a happy Penny and bodyguards “Where’s my favorite little fashion designer?”

           Marinette just sighed.

Adrien smirked at her; looking way too amused. The jerk must’ve known. She had thought it was strange that he wanted to eat in the cafeteria. The two rarely ate on the school grounds, opting and preferring to go to local restaurants rather than deal with terrible food and pesky classmates. Still Marinette didn’t mind as long as they away from her classmates. And they did.

Kagami, Aurore, and Claude gave her perplexed looks.

           The students in the cafeteria went wild. Girls and guys screamed, and tried to get pictures. Jagged ignored them and went straight to Marinette’s table, walking passed where Bustier’s student at lunch. Alya shook Lila’s shoulder and pointed at Jagged, and loudly asked if Lila could get her an interview. Lila looked horrified.

Jagged beamed when he reached Marinette, “There you are, you’ve been ignoring my texts,” He accused. Which to be fair, Marinette had been. Her Uncle had been coming up with way too many revenge plots to be healthy. “I decided I need a new look for the VMAs; something rockin, something tasteful, something to show remind the world the amazingness that the Rock Gods have blessed them with.”

“I’m at school,” Marinette told him.

           He smirked, “Then Learn to answer a text,” The Rock star shrugged. “But fine; we can talk later. How about at my concert, yeah. You and your friends” he motioned to the kids at Marinette’s table, “Can have backstage passes. We’ll talk then. But I really want you to wow me. Maybe get a matching hat for Fang too.”

“Fang?” Adrien asked innocently. Still Marinette could practically hear see the script he was reading off of.  “Is that your cat?”

           Jagged gasped as if insulted, “Cat? Do you think I’d ever own anything as ordinary as a cat? Me? Jagged Stone?! I should be insulted, mate. I hate cats, always have. Never owned one, never will. Fang’s a crocodile. Marinette’s knows. Fang loves her.”

“That is strange,” Kagami shot Marinette a smirk which caused Marinette to nearly hiss at the betrayal. Kagami knew too?! “Lila said you did.”

“Lila?” Jagged asked. “Who’s Lila? I don’t know a Lila.”

“Lila Rossi?” Aurore offered. “The Ladyblog practically swears in an interview that Lila Rossi saved your cat from being hit by a plane or something.”

           Jagged scoffed, “What a loud of bull! Any journalist that believes that is not worth the pen they write with.” Gasps were heard. “But I heard that rumor. Didn’t know where it was from. Thanks for letting me know who I should sue. This Ladyblog and Lila Rossi will be hearing from my lawyers.”

           It was a photo finish as to who fainted first; Alya or Lila.

           Lila went home right after that. This caused the reactions of the class to be split. Half the class still defended Lila; refusing to believe their golden ticket was lying. The other half was ready to burn her at the stake; they had carried her books, done her homework, wrote her notes, nearly everything for her.

           Marinette just sat back and watched with amused eyes. If they thought this was bad, they hadn’t seen anything yet.

           That weekend Marinette Stone released a video on her blog about bullying. She had been mentioning her own trouble with bullying for months and people had asked her for more information.

           The title of the video was:

           Bullying Stone: The Expose

           In it Marinette revealed that at her school she went by Marinette Dupain-Cheng, her real name, and had a new look. She told about how much she liked school at first. And they what changed; that it all started when a new girl arrived and started telling lies about celebrities about Marinette. She told the story of how she was expelled; and just how many procedures were broken when it happened.

           Marinette used the recordings she had of class, and even showed up the horrible texts she got.

“As you can see the teacher does nothing,” Marinette frowned. “It’s all happening right in front of her and she does nothing. In the next video, you’ll see someone being sexually harassed, in front of the teacher and she doing nothing about it. And then what victim blaming looks like. Again, as a reminder, all these videos and pictures are unedited.” She had offered to blur Adrien’s face but he declined, and even appeared in the video too and talked about his own experience.

           At the end of the video, Marinette looked straight at the camera, “Anyone can be bullied; famous or otherwise. If you’re being bullied; speak up. Tell your parents, your Aunts, your Uncles, your siblings, your cousins, teachers who you know will actually do something about it. I waited too long to tell someone. I regret that. They thought what they were doing was hurting me.  They thought I’d be miserable without them. They thought I’d cry and break and come crawling back to them. They thought wrong. You can bully Stone but it takes a hell of a lot more than that to break it.”

           The video went viral in an hour. And people were angry. The people who knew Marinette and loved her were beyond furious. Jagged, even more so, as he hadn’t seen the videos before, read the texts.

           Marinette Stone’s phone blew up with texts and calls. She was tweeted and retweeted thousands of times. And she got far too many, ‘You want me to kick their asses for you. I can kick their asses for you,” texts. But she had known she’d get them.

           The Ladyblog was ripped for lies by celebrities who been lied about on site and fans.

           Gabriel Agreste, Adrien told her, was pissed about what had been happening to Adrien, in front of a teacher no less. Lila Rossi fired. And if Lila ever had dreams about working in the fashion industry, they were over.

           Savage, after berating her for not kicking Lila’s ass, told her he and the gang (Austin, Cleo, Ashley, and And Niklaus) was coming over for some Mario Kart and artery clogging fast food.

           When the call disconnect, Marinette got a text from him.

Why did you sic Fang on them?

And that’s a five for the swear jar!

           Marinette couldn’t stop laughing.    

[sleepylixie]

What are friends for?

College! Han Jisung X fem! Roommate reader

Imperium Universe || Jisung || Seungmin || Chan

1.5k words, Fluffy Fluff fluff,College!AU, Roommate!AU

Beware of: None other than teeth-rotting fluff and a teeny bit of swearing. Seungmin is chaotic evil incarnate but we been knew already 😂😂

A/N: the soft feels for Han Jisung hit hard 24/7, you guys. I MEAN LOOK ST THIS CUTIE BABIE I AM SIMPING. i have nothing more to say for myself. Please enjoy my offerings 🥺❤️❤️

Requests are open for SKZ and BTS! || Masterlist

//

Han Jisung wasn’t used to roommates. Him and his law major friend Seungmin had neglected to apply for on-campus housing until the last minute. A freak administrative error had the both of them assigned to a certain Y/N’s room and... safe to say, the two of them had had a bit of a surprise in store for them when they met you.  

It was disconcerting for Jisung at first- to see his first impression of your appearance as a possibly reserved, introverted character dissolve into chaos the second you opened your mouth. You were a force of nature dressed in pastel skirts, a lavender-scented hurricane that had no control over her tongue or hair. You smiled like a fox- sweet and unassuming on the surface, but sharp-witted and deceptive underneath.

Jisung knew instantly that Seungmin would click with your personality. The both of you were freakishly similar, with your innocent appearance melting into sheer devilry whenever the two of you wished so. Of course, he was right.  Seungmin took to you with great interest-the two of you clicked like kindred souls, or possibly reunited twins who were separated at birth. Jisung, on the other hand... 

He was intimidated by you, and that made it slightly difficult for him to settle down around you. While you never treated him with anything beyond familiarity and the niceties of acquaintances, he could never allow himself the same sense of familiarity that Seungmin allowed himself with you. 

He wished so dearly that he could behave otherwise, for he would be lying if he said he hadn’t found you just a little attractive (just a smidgen) from the second he met you. Jisung wanted to be close to you, gain your trust and friendship, but for some reason(him scared of looking like an idiot and possibly having you judge him for the rest of his life) he could never bring himself to do it.

//

The three of you had been living together for a good year and a half, well into your third semester and you’d all figured out how to live with each other. For example, Seungmin would only cook if there was DAY6 music playing in the kitchen. The way you entered the house was a clear indication of your mood that day- and today, it was a loud, resounding slam followed by strings of cursing.

“This is a fucking scam. This entire university is a cesspool of money mongering bastards and greedy professors who don’t deserve a shred of anybody’s fucking respect-

“Woah, slow down there, tiger, what’s got your tail on fire?” Jisung asked you, jumping upright from where he was lounging on the couch. Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you threw yourself onto the side of the couch Jisung had just vacated.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes rove your body as unnoticeably as he could manage. Your hair looked windswept from your walk back to the apartment, one of the guys’ hoodies and jeans covering your frame. How you could look so devastatingly adorable despite having steam pouring out of your ears was absolutely beyond him.

“What happened, is my fucking creative lit professor refused to grade me up for the mid-term assignment, even though I know my piece was one of the best.” You were fuming, stark raving mad, literally one second away from shooting sparks out of your ears as your hands twisted together on your lap.

“He told me that if I worked harder at trying to become a better writer, I wouldn’t have to be begging for a better grade. AND HE SAID THAT I SHOULD TRY NEW METHODS OF BEGGING IF I WANTED IT THAT BADLY.”

Jisung’s eyes narrowed as he took in the words that were spewing out of your mouth. “Did he really-” “YES HE DID I CAN’T WITH THIS UNIVERSITY-” You burst out, letting an angry yell punctuate your sentence. 

“Do you want to go to the Dean? I’m sure they’ll be able to do something about it.” 

At that, you smiled at Jisung, the same foxy smile that had him shrinking a little into himself every time he saw it- it was a thing of rather savage beauty, very out-of-place on a face as endearing as yours.

“Not really, I handled it myself.”

Jisung stared at you, his internal discomposure melting into curiosity. “What the fuck did you do Y/N, I swear if you got one of the varsity jocks to beat him up or something-”

“I’m glad you think I’m capable of that, honestly.” You giggled, anger temporarily forgotten, swatting at Jisung’s thigh. Were those butterflies in his stomach? Gods, he would eat a knife if it got them to stop fluttering-

//

“She had the Dean on call when she spoke to that sleazeball of a professor,” Jisung exclaimed, amidst assorted gasps and cheers from his audience, laughing a little himself as he sipped his beer. “guess who got a new creative lit professor and full marks for the assignment.”

You laughed as everybody around you let out peals of laughter, thumping you on the back in appreciation.

Your roommates had a gang of 6 other boisterous boys from all over the campus, united by a string of unsavory events and narrowly avoided expulsion. You should probably be concerned, sure, but the vibe the 8 of them had with each other was way too nice for you to not be roped in; now you were part of all their weekly parties at Chris and Hyunjin’s frat house. 

You were situated on the armrests of one of the couches in said frat house, red cup supplied with your kind of poison- Whiskey and soda. All of the boys were gathered around the common room, laughing and talking amongst each other when Jisung took it upon himself to recount the story of your creative lit professor’s unfortunate dismissal. 

It was a rather embarrassing pastime of yours, to watch Han Jisung. He was a strange one, alright. Out in the world, he was a loud, boisterous guy with a penchant for words, knowing exactly what to say at any point of time. It earned him his reputation of being a cheeky mood maker in any setting, the kind of guy who had friends all over the campus and beyond. 

In truth, however, the Han Jisung you came to know was reserved, a little more hesitant with his words, the kind who’d allow his friends to speak up for him unless he absolutely had to. He wasn’t a pushover by any means, no. He was just a little more picky with his words when they were meant for the people he was comfortable with.

For some reason, it warmed your heart when he behaved that way around you too- it felt like he’d accepted you into his inner circle. For some reason, your heart honest to god skips a beat when he smiles, this fucking adorable smile every time you and Seungmin tease him around at the apartment because fuck, he doesn’t always smile like that, does he? For some reason, you end up noticing his eyes when he smiled like that, the way his cheeks lifted up in this devastating manner, the way he’d laugh out loud with his whole body, so at odds with his reserved personality-

Yeah, no you definitely had a thing for him. You thought you were being glaringly obvious with it too, with the unabashed way you’d notice and steal glances at him every time he walked into the room. 

Not that you’d ever tell him any of this though, you were fairly sure you’d sent him an impression of mild intimidation with your rather...loud personality.

It was probably for the best if you admired Han Jisung from afar, hoping that your fancy for him doesn’t take the reins on your behavior.

Jisung might not have noticed, but another certain somebody definitely did. Somebody who’s brain was already thinking, well-oiled cogs being put to use.

\\

“Jisung, you should probably know that Y/N has a thing for you,”

“Seungmin what the fu-” you spluttered, neck already burning. This was not fucking happening.

“Is this what the roommate convention was for, you sneaky lil rat?” you exclaimed, doing everything you could to not lock eyes with the third roommate who was seated on your bed with the other two of you, now gawking between you and Seungmin with a rose blush scattered across his nose. 

Seungmin, to his credit, wasn’t fazed for a single second by the way the energy in the room changed, choosing to smile devilishly before continuing with his next sentence. 

“Y/N, you should probably know that Jisung has a thing for you too,”

What the fiddlesticks-

“And now, for my final trick, I shall excuse myself from this room. Roommate convention adjourned.”

Seungmin walked out of your room with a literal skip in his step. You would deal with your snake of a best friend after you were done with.. oh.

Your eyes finally met Jisung’s- warm amber eyes still looking at with a mixture of curiosity, surprise and affection that just knocked the words out of you. “Was Seungmin pranking me again?” He asked quietly, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. You sighed, trying to expel the nervousness. What the hell, might as well say the truth. 

“Not really,” the back of you neck felt like literal lava at this point- “I do like you.”

You were going to kill Seungmin.

“Good to know,” Jisung sighed in relief, his fingers twisting together on his lap. “Because uh.. He wasn’t pranking you either.” The next words seemed to take effort for him to get out, because his blush spread from his nose to his cheeks. “I like you too.”

You were going to thank Seungmin.

And then you were going to toss him into a dark room with Lee Minho and his boxing gloves, but that’s for later. 

[breaniebree]

ASC Sneak Peek Chapter 274

Remus looked over at his wife as they headed down the causeway the next evening, stepping over the rough rocks. Her hair was longer and she wore it in her original curly brown so that she didn’t stand out. She’d pulled the hair back in a low plait at her neck and he thought that she looked more like her mother until she turned to smirk at him, her eyes twinkling in a mischief only she could muster.

He knew that there were other Aurors around, more members of the Order pretending to be Muggle tourists as they trampled around County Antrim, but he still didn’t like a single part of this plan. Remus knew the benefits of it. He knew that if Dumbledore was able to personally talk to the Gurg today it would make a huge headway in turning more of the giants over to their side. Agent Mitchell Hoffman had been working tirelessly for months with the eight giants who had come forward since three giants had found him in Diagon Alley, but Dumbledore was the one who the Gurg wanted to speak to.

Dumbledore could of course speak a little Jötunn, that was part of it, but having Horace Slughorn with him was something Remus still didn’t understand. He had voiced as much to Tonks when he first heard the plan. The two of them had talked about it in length after the meeting, trying to make sense of everything. Slughorn was a brilliant Potioneer, but he was not exactly someone that he would want by his side during this kind of operation. What could Slughorn even offer the giants? Dumbledore was dangling the man like bait and it didn’t sit well with him.

Remus grabbed his wife’s elbow when she stumbled over the rough terrain and tugged her up against his side. “Careful.”

“Maybe if you weren’t too busy overthinking things, I could concentrate on walking.”

Remus’ eyebrow rose. “Really?”

Tonks’ eyes twinkled. “No. This isn’t exactly conducive ground for me to be walking on safely.”

Remus had to agree with that statement. “Built and destroyed by the giants themselves, they do tend to have a bigger footprint than you or me.”

Tonks nodded as his arm rested around her waist as they walked. “But it really is beautiful. It’s like it sprung from the earth in these incredible geometric patterns and yet it’s magical. Even the Muggles see it.”

“The legend transcends,” Remus agreed. “We just know that it’s actual history and not legend.”

“Will you tell me why you’re so worried?”

Remus sighed, pressing his lips to the top of his wife’s head. “I don’t know exactly. A combination of things, I suppose. Coming to the Giant’s Causeway to meet the Gurg is one thing, but the Gurg isn’t coming alone. If something goes wrong… that’s a lot of giants to deal with.”

“It’s a peaceful talk,” Tonks assured him. “The Ministry assured them of this and the Gurg agreed. We have people stationed all around in case something does goes wrong. Prince Tiernan, Prince Donal, and Princess Aoibheann are here with Aurors and the DRCMC agents. We’re all spaced out to be nearby. There are other members of the Terra Troops on standby as well.”

“Nearby, but not present,” Remus corrected. “That’s what worries me. Down there, by the sea, it’s just Dumbledore, Slughorn, and Agent Hoffman. I don’t see what Slughorn brings to the table.”

Tonks squeezed his hand in hers. “If they can make peace with the Gurg today, Remus, Voldemort’s lost another ally. He’s lost another huge footing and it brings us one step closer to ending his army. After that, it doesn’t matter what Slughorn brings to the table.”

Remus knew that she was right, he knew that it was the right step, but something was still eating at him. He recognized Adrian and Maia walking hand in hand nearby. The fae were spaced out, walking alongside the Aurors. His eyes fell on the tall, thin figure of Albus Dumbledore as he stood on the shore with Slughorn and Agent Hoffman. The three figures were staring out at the sea, waiting for the Gurg.

Muggles were trampling around, talking and taking photos, enjoying their holiday. He watched one couple move past him before Tonks gave the signal. Auror Atwell, Auror Higgins, Auror Savage, and Auror Proudfoot all lifted their wands at the same time. An eerie fog drifted up from the sea, floating over the Giant’s Causeway and effectively hiding all of them from Muggle view. The fog ebbed slowly, Muggle repelling charms pushing the Muggles further away as the thick cloudy air seemed to push in on them.

The fog pushed past them, surrounding the area just as ten giants began to emerge from the sea. Tonks’ grip on his hand tightened as they crouched down in their spot on the cliffs to watch them cross the sea below through the fog towards Dumbledore. The water parted like a mystical arch revealing a tunnel of dry land that the giants walked through, untouched by the sea. The moment their feet hit the shore, the water crashed over the tunnel, waves slamming against the rocks as if it had never been.

The biggest giant at the front stood over nine metres tall with a wide mouth and a squashed nose, making him look like he’d run face first into a wall more than once. He wore a crown on his head that was made of bone and teeth and he sat on the shore, his fellow giants surrounding him.

Agent Hoffman spoke first and the Gurg responded in what sounded like gruff grunts. Remus listened closely to the area around them, eyes on the people hidden in crevices overlooking the meeting. He could smell the salt of the sea, a woman’s perfume, and the musky scent of the wolves around them. He knew enough to distinguish each scent to each wolf, mentally ticking off names in his head of who was present as he looked down below at where the meet was taking place.

Slughorn kept looking around, eyes moving over each giant, wide and fearful as Dumbledore and Hoffman spoke to them. Zee and Misha were near the shore, Lady Godiva walking between them. He recognized the fae warriors wandering the edge of the shoreline and he knew that there were trained Aurors around.

But giants were not creatures to be trifled with.

Remus stared at the faces of the ten giants that stood on the shore. They were all massive, the size of buildings, with hands the size of small huts. Nine of them were male and one female, just as big and terrifying as the males that flanked her. They merely stood there, eyes roaming the shore as if they were looking for something. Waiting for something.

“Does it look good?” Tonks whispered. “It sounds positive, doesn’t it?”

The Gurg had accepted the chest of potions and then the gift that the Ministry had brought them, a branch of Gubraithian Fire that Dumbledore himself had bewitched. The eternal flame was something that the giants were all intrigued by, but Remus wasn’t sure if the love of the gifts still meant a good sign or not.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back.

It was ten minutes into the conversation when the hairs on back of his neck stood up as he caught the scent a second later. He turned sharply, eyes peeled. The moment they met the hungry dark gaze of Fenrir Greyback across the rocks, his stomach dropped.

“Nymphadora, this is a trap.”

“What?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Use your coin, warn the others.”

Remus had barely finished saying the words before Greyback made a beeline for him and Remus realized that he was far from alone. Five wolves descended, Apparating next to Greyback and surrounding them from all sides.

[beardofkamenev]

1, 5, 7 :)

Thanks for the ask! This is kinda a long one without any pretty pictures, so I’ve tagged it for anyone who doesn’t want it clogging up their dash.

1. Historical figure you used to like before you learned more about.

I’ve never actually liked him, but Winston Churchill. I knew he was 'problematic’ to an extent, but I was pretty neutral on him since, you know, he “saved Europe” from the Nazis. I also didn’t learn about him in school, so I just took the established opinion of him at face value. But MY GOD he was a racist, white supremacist, imperialist, genocidal piece of shit. Here are some choice quotes from the man himself:

On the Boer War (1902): “[It was] great fun galloping about.” “[My only] irritation [is] “that Kaffirs should be allowed to fire on white men” (The ‘great fun’ being the war in which the British sent 100,000+ black Africans to concentration camps, and ‘Kaffir’ being a racist term for black Africans.)

On the use of chemical weapons against the Kurds (1920): “I am strongly in favour of using poisoned gas against the uncivilised tribes … it would spread a lively terror.”

On Mussolini (1927): “In the conflict between Fascism and Bolshevism, there was no doubt where my sympathies and convictions lay.” (Hint: it was fascism.)

On Palestinians (1930s): “Barbaric hordes who ate little but camel dung.” On self-determination: “I do not agree that the dog in a manger has the final right to the manger.”

On Jewish people (1937): “It may be that, unwittingly, they are inviting persecution — that they have been partly responsible for the antagonism from which they suffer.” (Hitler was already in power, so YIKES)

On the genocide of Native Americans and Indigenous Australians (1937): “I do not admit, for instance, that a great wrong has been done to the Red Indians of America or the black people of Australia. I do not admit that a wrong has been done to these people by the fact that a stronger race, a higher-grade race, a more worldly wise race to put it that way, has come in and taken their place.”

On the partition of India (1947): “I’d rather see them have a good civil war.” “The Hindus were [a] race protected by their mere pullulation from the doom that is due” (’Pullulation’ meaning ‘to multiply rapidly’, and ‘the doom that is their due’ being the brutal, sectarian partition in which millions were killed and displaced. Churchill may have helped create Pakistan — or as he called it, Britain’s “bit of India” — but he despised Pakistanis, who he considered a “lower manifestation” of humanity.)

On the Bengal Famine which killed 3 million (1944): “I hate Indians. They are a beastly people with a beastly religion.” (Keep in mind that, like the Irish Famine, the Bengal Famine was a direct result of his own government exporting rice from India, despite the fact that crops had failed and that Churchill was repeatedly warned that continuing to export rice would lead to famine. Not only did Churchill deny relief to Bengal, but he also blamed the Bengalis for their own starvation for “breeding like rabbits.”)

His opposition to Nazism wasn’t nearly as principled as most people believe. Far from being an anti-fascist and anti-Nazi, Churchill was himself a fascist eugenicist, who only opposed the Nazis insofar as Hitler’s imperial ambitions threatened British dominance. This was the same Churchill who once boasted that the “Aryan stock is bound to triumph,” and whose main criticism of Hitler was that he had “not been mellowed by the great success that ha[d] attended him,” lamenting the loss of “the Hitler of peace and tolerance.” I was neutral on Churchill before, but now I’m pretty comfortable placing him in the same league as other racist mass murderers, if not in death toll, then certainly in his views. The British Viceroy of India said that “Churchill’s attitude towards India and the famine is negligent, hostile and contemptuous.” The Indian Secretary of State said that there wasn’t “much difference between his outlook and Hitler's.” His own secretary attested to him saying that Indians were “a foul race ... and he wished Bert Harris could send some of his surplus bombers to destroy them.” And those were just his view on Indians. While Churchill’s own colleagues saw him as an extremist, the cult of British exceptionalism demands that these inconvenient aspects of his legacy be ignored, lest they contradict the narrative of the Empire as an ultimately beneficial, civilising force.

Don’t get me wrong, I do think that Churchill is worthy of serious study, as all influential and complex figures are. But he is uncritically considered The Greatest Briton of All Time purely because of his whitewashed wartime legacy, which has been used time and time again to dismiss the very real harm he caused to millions of people and continues to cause harm today. Stalin also “saved Europe” from the Nazis, but it would be insulting to say his role in defeating Nazism somehow excuses his atrocities. Yet Churchill’s atrocities are constantly excused because his victims were mostly brown “savages” (his words), who needed to be ‘civilised’ anyway. You only have to look at this BBC article to see his apologists’ mental gymnastics in trying to defend him (here’s my favourite: “Although Churchill did think that white people were superior, that didn't mean he necessarily thought it was OK to treat non-white people in an inhumane way”). As a POC from a former American colony, I find the systematic erasure of the atrocities committed by the Anglosphere and the knee-jerk defensiveness towards any acknowledgement of the intergenerational trauma caused beyond irritating. The Cult of Churchill is but one example of this.

5. Historical figure we should talk more about.

JASPER TUDOR UNCLE OF THE CENTURY. Now that was a man who was actually loyal to his brothers and protected his nephews, unlike... some other uncles I could name lol. He’s also the one Tudor man (aside from Arthur) that PGregs couldn’t demonise, although she did still portray him as a 26 year old man being in hopelessly love with his 13 year old sister-in-law, which uh, NEVER HAPPENED.

Anyway, I have a whole tag devoted to Jasper here if you want to learn more about him. There are also three historical biographies dedicated to him: Jasper Tudor: Dynasty Maker by Terry Breverton (2014), Jasper Tudor: Godfather of the Tudor Dynasty by Debra Bayani (2015), and Jasper: The Tudor Kingmaker by Dr Sarah Elin Roberts (2015). I haven’t actually read them myself so I can’t give you my opinion on them, but I have read Wales and the Wars of the Roses by Howell T. Evans (1915) which discusses Jasper in detail and I highly recommend.

7. Favourite primary source.

Oh man, it’s so hard to choose! Purely in terms of aesthetics, it has to be Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry. I even have a whole tag devoted to salivating over the pretty colours lol. In terms of textual information, I’d probably say Henry VII’s letter to his mama, Maggie B. It reveals so much about Henry’s relationship with his mother, including how close they were, how much he respected her, and how often they collaborated in matters of state. It also includes this cute line:

I shall be as glad to plese you as youre herte can desire hit, and I knowe welle that I am as much bounden so to doe as any creture lyvyng, for the grete and singular moderly love and affection that hit hath plesed you at all tymes to ber towards me.

I was supposed to write a post about it, but I got lazy so it’s still sitting in my drafts. In terms of both textual information and literature, I think Gwaith Lewys Glyn Cothi is pretty underrated as a primary source. They’re poems, so naturally there’s a lot of embellishment, but they give a lot of insight into the under-explored Welsh aspect of the Wars of the Roses from someone who actually lived through the era. I’m also Jasper Tudor trash, so of course I’d like anything that talks about him.

(The history asks meme is still open!)

[azure-steel]

@mercyxkilling​ said: predictable. cloud’s footwork always seemed to follow the same pattern so it had been child’s play really to bob and weave out of the man’s attack and sweep her leg to kick at the back of both his knees and drop him. in his defense, she thought as she moved to straddle him and pin his wrists down, he was a fierce and formidable opponent, but after they’d sparred together for so long it had been very easy to anticipate his moves. 

a triumphant smirk pulled at her lips as she hovered over him, her long tresses slipping down over either shoulder, creating what almost seemed like a veil that shrouded the two of them from the outside world. all mercy could see now was cloud, and all she could feel was him beneath her. she had become very aware of how agonizingly close her hips were to his, and slowly that smirk disappeared from her mouth. her lips parted as if to speak yet instead the only sound she made was an audible and shuddering sigh. heat rose to her cheeks and her eyes never left his, her gaze smoldering with unfulfilled desire. 

there had always been tension between them and many times opportunities arose where either of them could have acted upon it, but ultimately they both would pull back. this time, though, given the position (literally) that she was in, mercy found it impossible to resist the temptation. 

“i think i won. but i still think you should get some kind of prize for at least trying. a participant trophy, so to speak. so... what to do, what to do...?” she wore a faux look of contemplation for only a moment, then leaned further down with her face mere centimeters from his. 

“mmn, how ‘bout i try something like this...?” she dipped her head down against his neck and dragged her lips across his neck briefly before placing a trail of kisses against the delicate exposed flesh there, moving up to his jawline, stopping after she pressed her last kisses at the corner of his lips. 

“but you know,” she purred softly into his ear, “you did keep up with me pretty well. so i’ll give you a little something more.” and with no other warning mercy crushed her mouth onto his, delving her tongue into his mouth to taste and explore. for so long she’d wanted him and denied her desires, believing they’d dissipate over time. she’d been so, so wrong, and it made everything all the more delicious Unprompted Asks (Psh, who am I kidding, I wanted this more than chocolate~) - ALWAYS ACCEPTING

He was getting sloppy, and it showed each time his opponent managed to land a hit, but it wasn’t as though Cloud could even blame his own lack of precision and balance on cumbersome armour detail, considering he was wearing a simple tank and sweatpants for this bout of hand-to-hand combat. 

No. 

It was her... it was always fucking her, with her lithe figure, killer thighs, pretty face and smart mouth, distracting him, tripping him up and turning him on; to say he was frustrated was putting it mildly, it had to be noted, and Mercy certainly had to have noticed. How was it even possible to like and hate something all in the same instance? 

Cloud isn’t entirely sure when he’d stumbled into this rabbit hole but the fact of the matter remained that he had and the longer this particular sparring session continued the more frustrated he got and it showed with how he glares at her from beneath his lashes after each shunt, each weaving dodge and every scathing bit of trash-talk she fired his way. 

It should be a crime for Mercy to look this good while all but handing him his own ass. 

But then she came in low taking out both legs, an action which had Cloud sprawling onto the floor with a heavy bodily thud. The loud grunt he emits isn’t from pain but from the abject irritation of being caught unawares, again, and he just lays there on his back staring furiously at the ceiling just preparing for this crushing defeat to be rubbed in his face like salt into a festering wound. And that moment came soon after with the woman straddling his waist and pinning his wrists to the floor on either side of his head. He’s only thankful that she’s sat on his stomach and not below the equator... that could have been a little bit awkward, and possibly not helped his rapidly darkening mood any either. Cloud doesn’t struggle against her, though he does offer a defeated nasal huff as he allows his bright eyes to glower at her from beneath a heavy brow. 

“Yeah, yeah, you got me, congratulations,” he says, impassive of course with only a hue of irritation carrying on the winds of his voice. What he didn’t expect was what happened next as the smirk tugging at her mouth withered away shortly followed by a quivering lascivious sigh, but it was that look in her eye, that soft wanton glint of inspiration which made his cock twitch. Cloud habitually drops his gaze between them towards that hot swell of fresh blood between his legs, despite the obstruction of her body still sat on his midriff, as though his manhood would suddenly break free of his pants and scurry away at any given moment, but the motion was fleeting before he’s meeting again with Mercy’s heavy eyes. And she’s so close now, so dangerously close, with her long hair blanketing him from the rest of the room, as though the world beyond her had long ceased to exist. 

Cloud had lost count of the amount of times they’d found themselves closer than was considered usual, and even he wasn’t oblivious to the chemistry which roiled between them in those few risqué moments. He wanted her, more than he was really willing to admit even to himself, yet the notion that could possibly be reciprocated in kind was a struggle to translate when it came to Mercy and her teasing ways. Not only that, but she was the captain of this somewhat dysfunctional crew, the idea that acting on his own impulses seemed... inappropriate. Yet somehow, right here and now, it was different, the way she spoke while talking about consolation prizes... it was... it was just... 

Different. 

“Mercy...?” a quick whisper, little more than a breath which almost caught in his throat as his lips form her name. “... what are you doing...?” He doesn’t need a verbal answer, not when her mouth is skimming the hot flesh of his neck, followed by soft hot kisses, eliciting a low groan to rumble from deep in his chest. Cloud arches into her, an instinctual action causing his head to roll back against the hard floor, to struggle lightly against the grip of her hands still wrapped around each wrist, and awakening a needy trembling in the muscle of each thigh. 

“Mercy...” She’s torturing him, she has to be, even as she lays one final kiss on the corner of his mouth he’s still not convinced that this is even happening, despite the desire he can spy in her gaze, despite the fact he’s now pitching a tent in his sweat pants, despite how utterly gorgeous she was... because that was just it, wasn’t it? She could have anyone she wanted... why was she even looking twice at him? Why was he even questioning it?

Fuck... he wanted her. 

Cloud’s following her mouth now, not really listening to the words she speaks as each breath comes to him in sharp shallow rasps, and he can feel everything; the weight of her body on top of him, the heat between her legs against his belly, the hot rush of her breath on his face, the soft press of her tits against his chest, a sensory overload of sorts as the desperation takes hold, the desperation for a taste of her and Mercy does not disappoint him. When lips mesh and her imploring tongue slips between the barrier of his lips, he reacts instantly, straining again against the bind of her hands holding him in place. And he moans against her lips when their tongues meet, bending each leg if only to tilt her body upwards, forcing her flush against him, to reach further into the depths of her glorious hot mouth. 

It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, to be subjected to such impassioned desire, to be wanted by this woman in a way that he so desperately wanted her, where savage words were so suddenly replaced by heavy lust driven breaths betwixt wet hungry lips. Cloud pulls back eventually, slowly, and not without capturing the supple flesh of her lower lip between his teeth before finally finding his voice. 

“I got the better end of this deal, yeah? I reckon you should win more often~” 

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 19

The portal snapped closed behind them sending the trio spewing over the hard granite floor. Dust and grit curled up into billowing clouds sending the three into a fit of coughs and splutters. Jaskier poked his head up between a pair of legs and one hand that frantically twitched at the side of his neck.

‘Whose ever knee that is, while that is very pleasant, I am not sure Geralt would appreciate either of you doing that.’ Jaskier bit out, worming his way out from the bodies.

‘I forgot how low the floor was in here’ a muffled groan forced its way out front somewhere beneath the flailing limbs, a white-haired head popped up gazing around the battered room.

Vesemir had his blade raised and thrust in one of the bodies face before he even recognised the blossoming young woman and her annoying bard. Typically, the Witchers stronghold was only occupied during the most barren winter months, when work was made difficult from the weather. Most creatures limited their attack in the colder weather, drowners trapped by thick ice, wreaths. Kilmore and ghoul attack slowed to the point there was very little money, and it made more sense to hole up in the warmth of the great hall with food and ale sharing stories of the beasts and women they had met in the months of isolation on the path. But for Vesemir the appeal of riding another two months was unappealing, and there was much to be done at Kaer Morhen, the place had fallen into disrepair and could stand to have two months patch up before the others arrived. So, the flash of light and the three sprawling bodies was unexpected.

Cross-eyed, the bard stared down the blade of the Witcher, who grunted down in annoyance.

‘Vesemir long time no see, how are you? You old….Witcher.’ Jaskier smile nervously up at the gruff man.

‘Vesemir!’ Ciri greeted, standing up and pulling the bewildered former kitchen maiden with her.

‘Ciri! My girl, you’ve grown’ he pulled the slim girl into a bear-like hug lifting her off the grown entirely. ‘And who is this?’ Vesemir puffed out, catching a glimpse at the cowering girl edge herself toward the bookcases.

‘This is Adva…student of Triss, currently first of Yennefer’s hit list, suspected mermaid and Geralt’s soul mate, like actually soul mate.’

Blinking across at the older man, terror surged beneath the brunette skin. The gaze was heavy and piercing as the man all but dropped Ciri to her feet to look the mermaid up and down. Anxiety was back, and she felt like she had back in Brightwater under the scrutiny of Cersi, Tradi or the Vivian. It made her realise how bare she felt in the flimsy clothing Ciri lent her.

‘We need help…figuring out the mermaid and soulmate part.’

Ciri pulled back from her former teacher and smiled at the nervous girl, who eyes now focused solely on her ragged boots.

‘Well… I think we are going to need more chairs in the library. Anyone you annoy Yennefer enough to get on her hit list is always welcome here.’ Vesemir greeted, pulling Adva and Ciri toward the library.

‘Tell me everything. Bard bring three more chairs from the celler.’

‘Brilliant just brilliant’ Jaskier sighed as he made his way through the vast stronghold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt could not close his eyes; every time he did, he saw Adva being huddled into the portal in the strong embrace of Jaskier. Her retreating figure was etched into his mind for the past three days. The tightness of Ciri blouse over her breast and stomach, the lacing at the top of the shirt could not fasten so in an attempt to make them fit she had pulled the sleeve down into a peasant blouse, exposing her neck and that spot in which he buried his head in it during their night together, the pure scent that intoxicated him. Her hips had strained against the tightness of the dress, Adva hips the more shapely then his young ward, soft and supple, his hands still burnt in remembrance of how his hand buried into her ample hips as he ground into her feeling the wetness against me.

Scrunching his eye shut, he was forced to relieve that look on her face, the sadness and misery. He wanted to talk to her explain, but as soon as he advances towards, she flinched and retreated behind Jaskier. A furious range formed inside him, Jaskier, the man he had to save so man times who stuck his nose in one to many times, he had dragged her off for him, his little flower, his love, his siren, HIS MATE. Blood dripped from his hands as eight half-moons cut pieced his golden skin, the warm liquid dripped over his fingers and splattered noiselessly against the dirt way he lay. He could not bring himself to care or even feel the mild pain; he felt nothing, just the burning desire to regain Adva, to have her in his arms and wearing his mark as soon as possible. Without her, near him, he felt weak, near collapsed when she had abandoned him, but at the same time field with rage, he laid waste to the Garden, burnt the roses and reduced the fountained to a pile of stones. Before climbing on the back of Roach and riding day and night though forest, bogs and towns to reach his Witchers home, stopping only long enough for the horses to rest and Yennefer to reapply the paste to the runes on his skin. The fever still gripped him, the balm now lasted only a few hours, but he refused to let them stop for the briefest moment to reapply the substance. Instead, he had to feed the need to be close to her; so he rode on closer and closer to Kaer Morhen. As soon as they passed the town of Bastion, he could smell that scent on the wind, apples, and the sea. It calmed and excited him; a pang of anxiety took hold of him. It was something that he never felt before, a panic that gnawed at him for the inside out. He needed to get to her, to explain, to talk and to comfort.

Being told she was not human and possibly a mermaid in the span of a few hours was a shock. Geralt blink and he saw her distress flash against his eyelids, the tears. It broke him, and he wanted to comfort his mate, but it was Jaskier who swooped in. A silent growl shook his chest as he dug his fingers deeper into his palms, the blood flowing more freely, oozed onto the mud. At the minute, he couldn’t care less about any of them, Jaskier, Triss, Yennefer even Ciri could all go to hell, he could carry Adva away to live in a cave for all he cared as long as he had her. Geralt never thought he was a possessive man, but by the gods, he wanted to have every inch of her and give himself completely over to her. The overwhelming feeling pounded against his temples, and the sharp ache cut through his head as he was brought out of his musing by the harsh whispers behind him.

‘You have never loved him. You just love the idea of someone being there. You treated him more like a lapdog than a lover.’ Triss snapped.

She poked at the fire angrily as glared at the Yennefer, who in her usual fashion wore a plunging neckline that dipped down to her navel, it was tight and revealing and not a travelling dress, but it not sure practicality was what Yen was going for.

‘Don’t you think I deserved someone.’ Yennefer half whispered; half yelled.

‘Of course, I do. But you were horrid to her. You know what she reminded me a lot of you when you first came to Arteuza. Lost and scared searching for a place. She even had her own Tisssisa in Tradi and Cersi, a bully who prodded and poked, filling you head with the position. But you managed you had the power and support to getaway. She did not. Have some sympathy.’ Triss glared into the crackling fire.

‘I sacrificed my motherhood for that. You have no idea what I have surrendered.’ Triss growled.

‘You sacrificed nothing. You gave it away.’ Triss countered, giving her a pointed look. ‘You wanted power and don’t try and kid yourself. I love you like a sister, but sometimes you can be so obtuse.’

Yennefer was becoming increasingly hostile as the days went on, switching from lost little girl to savage man-eating banshee. Every jab and goading comment ground down on the Witcher who pensively look deep into the horizon but Triss knew Geralt; his body was rigid and tense, he didn’t eat or sleep just stare into the fire or huddle up with his back to them for the few brief hours he let the horse rest. And there was only so much more he would be able to stand before he snapped, and she fears that Yennefer would be on the receiving end of that or worse it would get Geralt off in an unbound rage, and he would do something that he would forever regret.

‘You seriously believe Geralt belong to her.’ Yennefer stood and pace in front of the fire, casting a frantic shadow against the trees.

‘That your problem, you think Geralt belong to someone. Adva genuinely cares for him. And she did not cast him out over his doing the right thing. That right he told me…honestly, you have no idea how spoilt and nasty you sounded.’

‘Well, to me, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.’ Yennefer smirked at her; it was her character smirk, the one she used when she was right.

‘That because she thinks Geralt prefer you over her, and she doesn't want to be blasted through the floor again.’ Triss ranted, in a hoarse tone. ‘You draped your self over him, what was she to think.’

‘If she were truly his mate, don’t you think she couldn’t be apart from him. Even if I were draped all over him, do you think he has really changed? He’d have a different woman in his bed every night; she would be pandering after him. Trust me; I spared her the hurt. I bet she had already moved on to Jaskier…’

‘Enough’ Geralt roared, bolting up in bed. ‘Don’t you two have anything else you can talk about.’ He snapped and stood.

Two of the two women, he loomed menacingly over them, his body stood to his full height as he glared at them with dark eyes. His sword was clutched tightly in his hand, glistening murderously in the moonlight. Trails of sweat mixed with the blue rune and melted down his skin, it was hard to see any of his bronzed skin beneath the mess of sweat and paint. The fever seemed to take hold on his with a vengeance, his breath was coming in heavy pants, as he looked at both the woman.

‘Geralt…we didn’t…’

‘She wouldn’t do that….not with Jaskier, she needs me’ Geralt gritted out. Triss took a step back, the frantic look in his eyes scared her.

‘Please…. she could barely look at you when they left. Could not help but notice she seemed really attached to Jaskier, they have the whole of Kaer Morhen to themselves…lots of room for screaming. I bet she is currently in one of those lush four posters spread open and Jaskier buried deep into her pussy.’

Yennefer laughed. The sound tinkled against the trees and into the night air, it was the only sound that would be heard apart from the occasional crackle of the fire and a distant owl hooting. Triss honestly could not comprehend what was happening in Yennefer head, if she really understood what was happening if she truly believed that Geralt wouldn’t actually hurt her. That he could do serious harm to her with his blade or signs. Part of her wanted that, it ashamed her to say, but Yennefer had been taking every opportunity to push the Witcher to his breaking point, she took great pleasure in it. Yennefer was hurt, and that made her deadly. Still, Geralt wasn’t his normal passive self, who let her push and ordered him about, he wasn’t that lonely puppy craving attention and companion anymore, he had love, or would have true love soon with someone that was wholly different for the mage, someone who was his and his alone.

What happened next surprised Yennefer but not wholly Triss. Aard, the telekinesis push erupted for Geralt’s hands, sending them flying backwards. The purple eyes mage hurtled backwards, through the fire and hit a nearby bolder with a sicken crake. Triss was lucky that the full force of the blast was direct at the other mage, she only caught the edge of the blast sending her stumbling into a pile of leaves and rotting vegetation was cushioned her fall. In horror, she watched as the Geralt leapt over the fire, sword raised, and he swung. She couldn’t bare to watch, screwing her eyes she waited. The sounds a metal hitting stone echoed in the clearing. Then a deadly silence. Peaking out from behind her corkscrew curls, the blade was inches from her face her violet eyes staring wide at the sliver of sharped silver.

The silver-haired Witcher growled and grunted like a rogue animal, terrified and panicked. ‘Never…never would she bed with another…. She is MINE!’ he roared.

‘HOW DARE YOU ATTACK ME! AFTER ALL, I HAVE DONE FOR YOU!’ Yennefer howled sending out a wave of fire out, knocking her attacker off her.  

Groaning in pain, he rolled out the way of another blast before twirling to his feet, with all the grace of a dancer. The sword hummed as he twirled the heavy blade, the wind screamed as it cut through it. Yennefer raised her hand before her as Geralt stood, budging muscle strained against his armour, eyes fierce and deadly. Plenty of times Yennefer had seen the fierce warrior beat down floes with nothing but his trusty sword but never had she been on the receiving end. Magic would be useless, and Geralt could inflict significant damage if he didn’t kill her.

‘Geralt…Stop! I am sure Yennefer was just being Yennefer. Adva is just confused right now. Finding out your part mermaid and a soulmate to a Witcher in the same day as behind attacked by a crazy Mage is hard to get your head around. You two are soul mates, meant to be. She just needs time to understand and get her head around it all. I am sure she is holed up in one of the rooms waiting for you, alone.’ Triss cried as she jumped in front of them. ‘You need to calm down…please. For Adva.’ Triss called, softly

The three stood tensely for a moment, both women's eyes on him as he glanced between the two. Panting hard his eyes bleed black, hands tightening on the hilt of his blade.

Snort pushed itself through his nose as a ‘Fuck’ howled passed his lip as he threw down his sword. Spearing one last glance at the mages, he disappeared into the forest.

‘That little bitch has done something to him. Geralt would never…’ Yennefer huffed, brushing the dust of her dress.

‘When are you going to accept you have lost.’ Triss rolled her eyes as she picked up the silver blade, sliding it back into his bindle on Roach, before sitting back down near the fire and waiting for his return. ‘Rest up; we will be riding on as soon as he gets back. We need to get to Kaer Morhen as soon as possible.’

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This originally wasn't gong to be a chapter but I felt like it needed to. Someone messaged me on tumblr about why Geralt didn't chase after her through a portal, from what I remember from the books and games Geralt hated portals and only uses them when absolutely necessary so I thought it was very Geralty plus those two need a little time apart. And there will be plenty of time for Geralt to chase after her *drools* can you imagine being chased by jealous Geralt. What did you think? I wasn't sure about the fight but Yennefer was being very annoying. Plus things Geralt and Adva life is hotting up and they have a lot to pick through so it gonna be interesting. And Vesemir! The love I have for that man! Please leave a comment!

@fandom-lover-4  @sageandberries-png @wastingmypotential @luxyash @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @broco8 @introvertedmouse @threepupsinapuddle @pastelblogsposts

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Those Shoes (Ch.3)

Song Inspired: I Want You by Savage Garden

Notes: @youtubequeens Hope you stay hydrated and have a lovely time! <3 Here’s this bit for now :3

Warnings: Creepy people, not getting the hint that a person’s uncomfortable, unwanted flirting, and talk about emotions bc honestly what are they?

He smiled as Eijirou took a bite of his onigiri, Tamaki sighed softly at his younger brother, as said boy had specks of sticky rice on his face.

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the boys were home from school, and Taishiro was enjoying his day off.  

“Did ya have a good day at work, Papa?” The ruby-eyed boy inquired, and Tai smiled, ruffling his hair.

“Ya bet I did, kiddo.”

 He didn’t tell his boys what he had exactly did for a living, but he promised himself that he would, in the future. So far, all they knew is that he was a professional dancer.

“Dancing must be hard.” Tamaki broke the silence after chewing on his scrambled egg, and his father laughed.

“Nah. It takes a lotta practice. Did you boys had fun at yer day at school?” He pondered, sipping from his cup of coffee.

“Yeah! There was a nice new boy who was shy! There were some mean kids, but I protected him!” Eijirou rambled excitedly. Taishiro chuckled, and then looked at Tamaki.

“Mirio fell in a puddle. Face first. I had to take him to the nurse.” He shrugged, yet Taishiro didn’t miss the soft glint that speckled in his eyes. He smiled.

“That kid’s pretty resilient, huh? Anyways, eat yer breakfast, then we’ll head out to the park, alright?”

………………

It was a pretty November day. Skeleton trees hovered beneath the rich blue sky as your shoes crunched up against the fallen colorful leaves. Although it hasn’t been a week, yet, you were slowly re-adapting to your hostess job, and nit and tucking the dancer’s clothes.

You were surprised on how many had requested your services, staying absolutely still as you kept a cool facade, keeping the pointed needle from digging into skin as you measured, cut, and sewed loose fabric. You believed in your abilities, yet it felt as if it didn’t matter.

You weren’t good at holding the obvious flirty conversations that somehow were being thrown at you out of nowhere. They would giggle, and you had to still your hand so that you couldn’t accidentally jab their shaking bodies, whilst trying to be polite.

Where did the sudden interest come from? You wondered. Your mother, undoubtedly, was on high alert as she noticed it, too. The flirting, joking, the inquiring questions. Luckily, the fitting room had a camera, and thankfully, your patients had known it too, so they were extra careful in not doing anything that was against the regulations. Your mother was watching, you all knew.

Speaking of which, she did not try to make things better. She would wink, or make subtle little jokes, as she explained that it was good for business. You couldn’t help but press your mouth in a firm line.

You worked so hard, finding the perfect materials, ignoring your own discomfort as you bit the bullet and tried to focus on making the outfit snug and resilient, while the owners ignored your tense shoulders and set jaw. You were appalled, as they used alluring honeyed words, directed your attention to a “loose” fabric between their thighs, and so on.

You, feeling a surge of retaliation, growled out that it would cost extra for you to fix certain areas, and preferred that the outfit was on a mannequin, instead.

Your spitfire attitude had certainly weeded out a few of the unwanted customers, but, gained some more who thought it was a challenge. You didn’t miss the look of sheer pride from your mother, however, as she sported a wicked grin.

“That’ll teach them. Might make your blond a little less jealous.” She winked, and you paled in question. He was jealous? Of what? You were only doing your job, charging the dancers a certain amount, and giving your mother, your boss, a small part of the revenue as she requested. Although a thorn in your side, she was also a beautiful rose, and you knew that she was helping you in her own way, thus, opening your eyes more to the situation.

It didn’t take you long to realize, that yes, he was jealous, and you were too busy to acknowledge the possibility, until your mother had to basically tell you. So, you took your time to observe your surroundings.

Daggers for a stare had met each and everyone of the customers who had followed you into the fitting room, you’ve seen. While hosting, you started to take breaks to watch him, much to the oddly placed chagrin in the other dancers. His style was a little different, more suave and seductive, rather than downright dirty. Back against the pole, he slid up slowly as he jutted out his chin, staring at you through blond lashes while sucking suggestively at one of his suckers, hardly minding the crowd as he gave you a show that was basically personal.  

He was addictive, you couldn’t help but think. His outfits, dances, and downright attitude made the other’s shadow in comparison.

 It brought you back to the present. Your feet shuffled against the dirt as you pushed yourself on the swing, breathing out huffs of warm air that meshed with the chilly atmosphere.

 He didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable, either. He did make a request, to tuck in a few strings into his nurse outfit, you remembered it so clearly. He had strutted into your office around the right time, white fishnet stockings and heels blended in nicely with the light aqua blue fabric that left very little to the imagination.

“Jus’ some strings near the neck, Sugar. Might even give ya a sucker if ya behave.” He winked, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how corny it was, earning a smug smile and tinted cheeks. Although a little flirty, he stood perfectly still as you fixed the frayed mess that was near his clavicle, feeling his warmth resonate around you as you couldn’t help but seep it in. You hoped that he wouldn’t say anything about it. How you could feel a thundering, fast-paced heartbeat underneath your fingertips, despite his cocky facade, your face blushing immensely, or how the atmosphere seemed as if it might just break from underneath the metaphorical weight between the two of you.

However, true to his word, he began letting out pieces of information.

“We actually go to the same college.”

 You stopped to stare at him with full surprise.

“What? Really?”

“Well, ya graduated before I did, but I live near the campus. I…kinda saw ya every day. Not as a stalker!” He rushed before you could think of anything.

“-as in, my road to the school kinda passes your road, and I couldn’t help but not look away when ya were…ya know…It’s a very connected town, so I’ve seen ya…around.”

Then it hit you.

“Ah, so you must’ve seen me doing volunteer work?” You murmured, and he nodded.

“Well, yeah. You’re a familiar face. Couldn’t really ignore ya, ‘specially when you’re bein’ so wonderful half the damned time. Ya don’t know me, and I know it might be a lil’ creepy, but I promise ya that I don’t mean to be.” He babbled, face tinting a little more pink, and your ears burned from the forward acknowledged statement.  

So he noticed your volunteer work, and where you lived, and yet you didn’t really see him creeping around the bushes, or any tall figure of his build stalking around, for instance.

“So…is this why you have a sudden interest?” You asked, and you heard him swallow thickly.

“Pretty much. Doesn’t help that you’re kinda allurin’. Like a magnet.” He finished lamely, eyes shifting as he bit his bottom lip, and you couldn’t believe the shy signals that he was giving off as your own cheeks burned.

“Ah. Um…yeah.” You couldn’t help but say, and he snorted. You jutted your chin up and was about to give him a piece of your mind.

“We’re both kinda terrible at this. Anyways, that’s what I wanted to tell ya. Been seein’ ya around and makin’ the world a better place, an’ so I couldn’t help but like ya.” He waved off your short-lived glare as your expression softened.

“I don’t understand? You’re shy but not?” You questioned, nipping the small extra thread that you’ve already tucked in.

He shrugged.

“Emotions are emotions. Ya do things to me that I can’t explain, and I make ya into a flustered mess, and vice versa. I was at first too fuckin’ scared to really say or do anything, because the last thing I wanna be, is to be a creepy stalker in yer eyes.”

“I think I understand. As I don’t believe that you are a stalker…um…how do you? How did you-”

“Body language is a dead giveaway. Studyin’ to be a therapist. Plus, it’s relievin’ to get another validation that ya don’t find me creepy. ‘Specially after hearin’ my story.” He grinned, and your shoulders relaxed as you finished up your work.

“Ah, all done?” He pouted, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“You have another appointments, as well as my number.” You reasoned, and his eyes lit up.

“So, I could call ya?” He asked hopefully, and you found yourself nodding before you could comprehend what he said.

“Awesome. I’ll see ya around, Chickadee.” He hummed, digging into his wallet as he paid you upfront, letting his hand brush against yours, and yet you didn’t mind. All too fleeting, he sauntered away, but not before giving you a final look.

“The ball is in yer hands, in whichever ya want this to be. Although, I gotta up my game, if I wanna keep the competition at bay.” He winked, and then turned to leave the room. The wheels in your head had seemed to stop, before whirling again with realization.

So, he was aware of it all? The flirting and unwanted attention that you were gaining? As if he had to compete against anybody, you couldn’t help but think.

He wasn’t like the other “suitors” who were more aggressive and rude, you couldn’t help but think, your chest fluttering at the idea of him being your partner.

It’s been three days after that. You did shoot him a text, and almost immediately, he responded. He was forward with his interest, and you were still in a bit of confusion, why he, still a stranger, had decided to pursue you so quickly. You couldn’t help but think that the stars must have aligned in the both of your favor, or that it must have been fate, for you couldn’t help but start to like him, as well.

His forward approach, his respectful nature, the duality of his emotions, on how he could be so forward, and yet somehow kind of shy, he hunted at a distance, not too close or disrupting your boundaries, while never failing to look for you, or put on a show.

An excited voice rambled you out of your thoughts, a very, familiar excited voice, and your attention snapped towards the direction at the upcoming person, or people.

……………………………….

He sucked. He was a sucker, and he let his emotions get the best of him. Why did he have to spill out everything? Now she knew that he was an eager fool, and he didn’t mention the most important part; his two boys. Although not biologically his, blood didn’t matter, they were his sons.  

Of course, while in his interest in pursuing, he was so caught up with classes, dancing, and raising his kids, a lot of things had passed his mind. He remembered laying in the darkness of his bedroom, staring up at the ceiling as his heart clenched.

What if she was only attracted to his dancing? The two of them had never made plans to meet outside of work, and if they did, would she be turned off by his more shy attitude? His more softer, meeker side? Unwanted thoughts swirled within his head.

He was making a mistake, he was putting too much time into a woman who he barely knew, and if she did like him, would she like his boys? They would always be his first and top priority, he could never lower their needs before a potential future partner.

Growling, he picked up his phone, searching for her contact. He began typing, and re-typing as he made sure that the sentence sounded perfect.

Me: I know it’s late, but do ya wanna go to the park, tomorrow around 9 am?

He bit his lip and pressed send. It’ll just be a hang out, he told himself. He’ll bring his sons, and if she reacted negatively, he would stop cold. Maybe move to another club. It was his fault for not mentioning that he had kids, and he didn’t blame her for not wanting to deal with him for not telling her in the first place. She was an adult, she could make her own decisions, and children might not be her priority, and he could respect that. The fated ding of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts.

Chickadee: Sure. It’s supposed to be chilly, tomorrow, so wear something warm.

His cheeks felt like fire as his heart warmed up from the thoughtfulness. A chuckle escaped his throat. Even while texting, she still used proper grammar, and he couldn’t help but find that adorable. He kind of hoped that she wouldn’t be upset that he had kids, and he wouldn’t force her into anything that she didn’t want, if he did break it to her that he wanted to see her as a partner.

He was a dumb mess, he told himself. However, he wouldn’t mind to have her as a good friend, if anything else. He couldn’t help but like her, and she had a blunt, straight to the point attitude mixed in with that sweetness.

……………….

    “-lunch lady?!” A voice gasped in shock, the three familiar figures caught your full attention. Time stood still as you recognized the two small boys instantly, and behind them, stood none other than Taishiro. Surprise had hit you, but you couldn’t help but feel joy as little arms wrapped around your leg as you stopped the swing, seeing Eijirou glanced up at you with a toothy smile and bright eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile, pinching his cheeks a little as he giggled.  

“Hey, um, small world?” Taishiro asked, breaking you out of your trance.

“I volunteered at the orphanage a while back. That’s amazing, I’m so glad to you two, again.” You explained, looking at the boys.

“It’s good to see you, as well.” Tamaki said softly, and you smiled at the slightly older boy who gripped Taishiro’s jacket.  

“Oh, that’s pretty neat. Ya were in dietary?” He asked, sitting down on the swing next to you, Tamaki following closely. You looked down a bit shyly.

“Um, yeah. They were kind of short staffed, that year, and I was a pretty familiar face, so they asked, and I said yes.” You rambled, and he chuckled.

“You’re right about the pretty part.” He winked, and you huffed out a surprised laugh.

“Do you ever not flirt?” You inquired, and he grinned.

“I don’t flirt as much as ya think. Anyways, I wanted to know, if ya like to hang out with us, for the day?” He murmured softly at the end, and you felt yourself smile a little.

“I’d like to. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the boys. Although I missed the children, I couldn’t really stay, had college to go through, you know? It’s good that they’ve been adopted.” You rambled, watching Tamaki push Eijirou gently on the swing next to yours, the shyest of smiles graced the raven-hair’s features as the two were basically in their own little world.

“When I first came to this town, I didn’t really have anybody. So I took some time to think it over, and decided to adopt. They’ve been the light of my life for three years, now. Can’t imagine bein’ without ‘em.” He said softly, and you felt a burst of warmth envelop you.

“It’s good that they have a good dad. Do they know of your-?” You let the sentence hang, and he shook his head.

“Later. I doubt that they’ll judge, but I don’t want ‘em to know, just yet.”

It surprised you on how easy it was to make small talk, each of you opening up a little bit more. You fixed Tamaki’s coat, brushing the hair out of his eyes slightly when Taishiro had offered the group to get hot chocolate from the coffee shop that was near, chuckling as Eijirou’s eyes widened with pure glee.

Tamaki gripped your hand, Eijirou gripped Taishiro’s, and Taishiro held your free hand as the four of you crossed the street, and you couldn’t help but feel warmth at the domesticated atmosphere within your little group.

You wouldn’t mind if these sudden feelings stayed a little while longer.

[rwby-grimm-guardians]

Rules, Headcanons, Ships (will be updated if necessary)

General, Ask, and RP Rules

Please. PLEASE be respectful towards others. That includes ships, characters, headcanons, and the mun.

Please try not to hit on, flirt, or have NSFW interactions with my muses unless you have read the Ships page.

Any muses who are characters that are crazy as fuck (i.e.: Adam and Ironwood) or who are abusive (i.e.: Jacques) I will NOT rp with (AUs are an exception, but I WILL be very cautious when doing so).

If you can’t follow the rules, then don’t rp with me. If you break them once, I will give you a warning. Twice will be a harsher warning. Third time will result in me ending the rp.

I ASK THAT YOU RESPOND TO MY RESPONSE TO AN RP OF OURS WITHIN A WEEK TO SHOW THAT YOU STILL WANT TO STAR OR CONTINUE.

IF YOU DON’T WANT TO CONTINUE, PLEASE MESSAGE ME. IF YOU DON’T DO EITHER, I WILL CONTACT YOU ABOUT IT.

IF YOU CONTINUE TO NOT RESPOND, I WILL SHUT THE RP DOWN AND MIGHT NOT WANT TO RP WITH YOU AGAIN.

I GET THAT PEOPLE ARE BUSY, BUT THIS IS A SERIOUS PROBLEM THAT I’VE DEALT WITH AND I’M TIRED OF REPEATING THE SAME DANCE.

Ships

Rosebird (Summer x Raven)

White Rose (Ruby x Weiss)

Bumbleby (Yang x Blake)

Gambol x Ember

Qrow x Tai (possibly, but will most likely be a BROTP) (I don’t know the ship name, so please tell me)

ReNora and Arkos (Jaune x Pyrrha) (obviously)

SnowByrd (Winter x Robyn) (I LOW-KEY SHIP THEM. PLEASE DON���T JUDGE.)

Headcanons

Raven left Yang and her team in order to keep them all safe from the tribe. Qrow wasn’t aware of this until the Mistral Arc, but Summer knew the full story, which is why she went to convince Raven to let them help her, instead of trying to protect the team on her own.

Raven blames herself immensely for letting Summer get killed. She believed that if she had stayed with them, then her death would’ve never happened. Summer, on the other hand, believes that she would’ve died either way and doesn’t blame Raven for anything.

Summer and Raven’s nicknames for Ruby are “Little Gem” and “Little Petal” respectively. Their nicknames for Yang are “Sunshine” and, of curse, “Little Dragon”.

Ruby nicknamed Summer and Raven as “Alpha Mom” and “Bird Mom” respectively.

Raven and Yang’s relationship is much more tolerable and calm than in the show. This is partly thanks for Summer being alive and explaining why Raven left and how she saved the STRQ leader from death.

Winter is more aware of what Jacques is doing and tries her best to take SOME sort of action. She’s also in a relationship with Robyn.

Ozma’s previous incarnations did have their own identities. The Beacon headmaster incarnation was named Evergreen Ozpin Brown.

Besides english, Ruby speaks french, Yang speaks chinese and welsh, Weiss speaks german, and Blake speaks japanese and italian.

When they were at Beacon, Raven was the more dominant one in her and Summer’s relationship. However, Summer’s resurrected form has made her more dominant then Raven.

Raven hates how Summer is taller than her now. Summer, on the other hand, relishes it and takes advantage of the height difference very well.

Summer is quite kinky, as she enjoys being cuffed to a bed and bitten by Raven. However, there’s an 80% chance that she’ll break free from said cuffs. Also, she enjoys using Raven’s breasts as a pillow, a trait that was retained from her previous life.

Raven has a tendency to nosebleed whenever she sees a nude body. This worries Summer a lot, as it sometimes takes about 2 hours for the bleeding to stop.

It should be noted that depending on the weapon, Summer’s fighting style changes. For Summer, using Crescent Rose makes her more brutal and savage, while using Twin Crescents makes her far more calm, focused, and fluid.

[shyinadarkplace]

One of Zed’s darkest moments

WARNING: DARK THEMES PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Zed is an original character as is Ryth. Loki is well Loki this definitely leans more toward mythology Loki

Zed knelt at Loki’s altar, more drunk then he had ever been and almost completely naked save for a loin cloth. He was broken. He was tired. He was done trying. He could feel it in his bones that if he tried to kill himself now it would finally fucking work. On the altar he placed a series of thick envelopes, his goodbyes. More importantly explanations, these beings whose faces he never saw had taken everything from him. Everything that he loved. His birth mother. His true mate before he was even old enough to know her for what she was. Then His adopted mother and siblings. The only woman he had ever truly loved. He had been beaten, tortured, his mind fucked and mangled. He was so fucking tired. So he prayed, to the only god who has ever bothered to give a damn. The only one who had bothered to help .

Zed took a deep breath. His forehead resting against the edge of the altar, tears blurring his vision falling unchecked. Numbly he gripped his hunting knife and held out his right forearm. Deftly he dug the blade in and slashed downward savagely. Quickly he repeated the process on his left arm. Zed watched the blood pour from him and sobbed. Releasing choked and broken noises chest heaving.

Loki heard screaming, a tormented yell. The token for Ryths altar glowed a slight red. Odd Ryth and her mother never left blood...realization hit him the only other person to use that altar was Zed. Loki cursed standing before the mirror image of the altar. Saw a poor and broken boy open his veins, saw the thick letters, then he heard the prayer. Many thought Loki cold and cruel, but he was far from it, so hearing these words and seeing these images made his heart ache.

“Loki...Loki...th-this is it. *sob, slight chuckle* I I can finally escape. I am sorry I bled on your altar. I am so tired. Why would my father do this to me? Why would he help those bastards? I guess it doesn’t  matter now...Nothing matters now. I lost them all Loki....my mother. fUCK  she didn’t even know how messed up my father was and then after she had taken such good care of me .... he he KILLED her. But you already know that from before . *sigh, sobbing hard* Tuari, oh fuck  she is  gonna hate me...for awhile I think she will come around ...she will know that every word is true because the paper, ink, and pen are imbued with truth spells I couldn’t lie there if I wanted to. Ryth will too, though she probably won’t care really. I am glad Tauri has her mates. I know they will take good care of her. Keept her out of too much trouble. Loki...you know Ryth has the most beautiful eyes right ? I love her . I love her so fucking much. I loved her the second I saw her. *chuckles sadly* Her hair was so long it brushed the ground. *brings up the image in his mind* Her eyes were shining like green opals at least But she will never forgive me. Never. I will never see any of her smiles. She has so many, but they all, they all take my breath away. *gently touches the faded half formed mating mark just above his heart crying harder* Loki please take care of her. Please, I know you care for her and love her too, so please take care her. D-don’t ...fuck its getting dark...so tired *laughs broken sobbing* D-don’t let her cut off her hair for Eric...uhhh I know a secret way to bring him back from...from the ashes...its its in my letter….please help her . I wonder if my mark is still on the inside of her ankle ? I thought I saw it when we first saw each other again. *heart skips a beat slowing darkness taking over* Hey loki can I ...can I go with Hel I just want peace. Please. Please take care of her...pl...ease… take care...of her. *falls over passed out*”

Loki appears at the altar. With a wave of his hand he stops the bleeding healing the wound, placing the poor boy in deep healing sleep. Gently he lifted Zed and took him to the back of the cave and summoned a soft, comfortable bed, laying him down. As he covered him with a thick, soft blanket Loki was thankful he had free time, though he was loath, feeling that once again he would have to put his claiming of his little changeling. Or he thought to himself perhaps not, perhaps his claiming would benefit all involved. Making a decision he placed food, drink and a note for Zed before placing strong concealments and protections around him before going back to the altar to retrieve the letters and clean away the blood. After securing the letters away to retrieve later he returned to Asgard there were a few more things he had to finish and not long to finish them. He knew that it had been almost a month since Eric’s death but Loki still felt the effects of Ryths scream. Hell everything  with the breath of life had felt the echoes of her agony when the mating bond between her and Eric shattered. Just thinking about it made his heart hurt all over again. He had to hurry.

Meanwhile Ryth wandered aimlessly out in her gardens. She summoned what she called shadow memories. They were memories that places and people shared. She could view all the memories of her and Eric since he began building here. So she did. As she watched it all  kind of played in fast forward, at the same time overlapping. She watched him building the house and planting the gardens. She smiled and laughed at all their antics. Looked on longingly at every time they had mad love out here under the stars. She shuffled inside tears once again rolling down her face, and watched everything on the inside. All the times they had cooked dinner together, had their friends over, danced through the whole house singing and laughing. Every time the depression hit, and how Eric took care of her. Finally came the last time they had actually seen each other. Rhythm gripped the choker around her neck using it to try and ground herself. She watched their fight. It tore her apart. She collapsed in her chair muffling her agonizing scream with a pillow as she watched and cried. How many times had she watched that night? One hundred, two hundred times? It didn’t matter, Ryth screamed until she lost her voice and cried till she dry heaved, before she finally fell asleep curled in her chair, still clutching at her necklace.

Loki heard Ryth wail at the loss of her love. Felt her clutching at the necklace he had given her many years ago. He stood under the light of the full moon and admired the home that Eric had built her. He could feel the love and care that went into every brick and board. All the care that had been given during tilling and tending. Ryth had done well with him, she had learned to thrive in many ways. Loki’s long hair stood almost on end for a moment while all the protections around the house examined him trying to determine if he was a danger or not. After a moment his hair dropped and he smiled at having been able to witness the strength of his little changeling, then continued into the house. For a moment he simply watched as Ryth slept .

Ryth woke suddenly, her knives flying from her hands before her thoughts could even fully form. They embedded themselves on either side of Loki’s head. To which he cocked an eyebrow. “Is that really how you would welcome me little changeling?” he said softly, gently. He waited, as Ryth rubbed her eyes and rose from her chair, another knife in her hand she stalked forward. Loki leaned against the door frame, hands in the deep pockets of his trousers. She was certainly a sight. Her long hair unkempt, bedraggled and slightly greasy. Her eyes were vacant and rimmed red almost raw from crying. She wore an oversized shirt and little if anything else. Oh she was firey, good. Ryth snarls showing her needle sharp fangs (all fea had sharper than average canines on the top and bottom) “You aren’t really here.” her voice was hardly a whisper as she had screamed it away for the most part. “Yes, I am little one. I am here to help you heal. You are mine and I am going to bring you back from the dark pit that you are in.” Ryth dove at Loki, tackling him to the floor knife pressed into his throat. For a moment he was taken by surprise.