#there are like periods of history i would LOVE to visit

[tleeaves]

”this book is a reimagining of hades and persephone as-” it’s the final month of 2023 as a society we need to move on and fast.

[aquaticmercy]

The Great Wave

Summary : Bucky would do anything to make his girl happy. He would even risk his life to get you the perfect gift.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : fluff. A bit of violence. Established relationship. Bucky is just so in love???

Requested by : myself (I have a couple ideas I have to burn before I move on to the requests. I will get to them soon, I promise!)

Word count : 2.1k

Note : Reader is an art enthusiast for the sake of the plot. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

Bucky had always been good at listening, even when you didn’t realise you were saying something important. He’d tune in while you rambled about your day, his eyes softening when you went on and on about something that made you happy. That was how he came to understand just how much you adored art. Lately, your latest obsession was art prints. One of them, in particular. 

The Great Wave off Kanagawa.

It started with your subtle mentions, then turned into hours of research and giddy excitement as you told Bucky about its significance in art history. “It’s not just the wave, Bucky,” you’d try to explain, “it’s the effort. Woodblock print artists had to carve wooden blocks one by one, for each colour used. The precision, the patience this requires is incredible.” you’d say, eyes wide with passion. “The focus is actually on Mount Fuji, which was a personal spiritual obsession of the artist— Hokusai. He was like the Beyoncé of the Edo period.” 

Bucky, ever the silent, brooding observer, stored every detail away in his mind. 

You had admired the prints in museums, dragging Bucky there with you. Once, when you had visited a small art gallery, you had found a reproduction of it. Bucky remembered how your fingers lightly touched the frame, lingering a little longer than normal. He also remembered how you mentioned that it would make a good birthday gift.

Bucky knew he had to do something about that. In fact, Bucky knew he could do better. 

—

For the past six months, he had been looking for something so rare that it almost seemed impossible to acquire. But if anyone could help him get hands on something like that, it was Sharon Carter. 

It had taken months of planning— months of digging into Sharon’s shady art dealings, but she finally tracked one down.

Bucky had burned through a few old contacts just to arrange this. The Dealer he had found had one of only 100 copies that still existed.

Bucky now stood at the edge of the alley, his eyes scanning the dimly lit streets of Madripoor. He hated this place. The stench of greed and violence clouded every corner. Truly lawless. But for you, he’d walk through these dingy streets any day.

Sharon leaned against the wall beside him, her arms crossed. “You sure you want to go through all this trouble?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Of course,” Bucky replied dismissively. His tone was resolute.

“You’ve gone soft, Barnes,” Sharon smiled. “Risking your neck for a gift.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, glancing at the old brown purse tucked in his jacket. Inside it was more than enough money to secure the deal, but in Madripoor, cash only got you so far. 

Briefly, his thoughts wandered back to you. Was this really worth it? Was he risking too much? You had been on his mind constantly these past few months. He has thought more and more about what you have done for him. Of how you had stood by him, as he tried to piece the puzzles of his mind back together. You’ve been a constant comfort in his life, a rock for him.

And he knew your love wasn’t transactional, and he had no intention to make it that way, either. He just wanted to do something nice. That smile... He’d do anything to see it.

But Madripoor was a different world. A dangerous one. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. Bucky shot Sharon a sidelong glance as they neared the abandoned warehouse. “I don’t trust this guy,” he muttered.

Sharon gave a knowing look. “That’s why I’m here.” She patted the concealed gun under her jacket.

There was no going back now.

—

They walked into the abandoned warehouse. The Dealer was supposed to meet them here. The place reeked of decay, with crates stacked against the walls carelessly and dust particles drifting in the air.

Not long after, a door creaked open on the other side of the warehouse. 

A tall, wiry man stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed in a sharp suit that looked entirely out of place in the decrepit building. Two bodyguards in tactical suits followed close behind him, both armed. 

“We’re here for the print,” Sharon said, her voice calm and collected. 

The Dealer smiled, but it wasn’t sincere. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, the infamous Sharon Carter. I’ve heard much about you.”

“Do you have the print or not?” Sharon snapped. 

The Dealer gestured to one of his bodyguards. He stepped forward with a slim black case and opened it to reveal the print, meticulously preserved under layers of protective glass. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he forgot where he was, only imagining the smile you’d have on your face when you do get to see it. 

Bucky’s grip tightened on the purse as he handed it over to the dealer. 

“There’s one more thing,” the dealer said as his tone shifted, shutting the briefcase shut. “I hear Sharon Carter here has been causing a bit of trouble for some of my associates. So… I’m thinking you’re going to have to do me a favour before I hand this over.”

“We had a deal.” Bucky’s eyes darkened. He knew Sharon had a reputation in Madripoor—one she didn’t need to remind people of often.

But the dealer just smiled an arrogant grin, one that made Bucky’s gut churn. “Deals change.”

Bucky could feel the tension in the air rising. He knew this wasn’t going to end peacefully. He noticed the subtle shift in the bodyguards’ stance, their hands starting to reach toward their guns.

“I don’t have time for this,” Bucky muttered, knowing he promised you he’d be home before tomorrow. Reaching for his gun, he shot near the handle of the briefcase, just shy of The Dealer’s grip.

That was all it took for the room to explode into chaos.

When another gunshot rang out, Bucky dove for cover behind one of the crates as bullets rained on him. Sharon shot at one of the bodyguards, taking him down with a well-placed shot to the leg.

As the deafening echo of gunfire bounced off the walls, a thought crossed his mind: Why am I doing this?

As bullet whizzed past, his mind kept going back to you. The way you looked at the print in the gallery, the way you spoke about it with such passion. He found himself chuckling at how far he’d go to make you happy.

Would you even believe it if he told you what he’s done to get this for you?

The Dealer ducked behind his own men, the briefcase in his death grip. Bucky rolled out from behind the crate. He returned fire, his shots precise. He didn't aim to kill them— he didn’t do that anymore— but enough to incapacitate them. The remaining bodyguard dropped to the ground with a grunt, clutching his wound as one of Bucky’s bullets grazed his arm. For a moment, the gunfire stopped.

Bucky straightened up, his eyes locking on The Dealer, who was now cowering near the far wall. He stormed in his direction. “Give me the print, or the next one’s between your eyes,” Bucky growled, his voice deadly calm. He didn’t mean it, of course, but The Dealer didn’t need to know that. 

The Dealer raised his hands, his face pale. “Alright, alright! Take it!”

Sharon wasted no time, snatching the case with the print from the ground and tucking it under her arm. Bucky threw the purse against The Dealer’s chest. He kept his gun pointed towards him as they backed toward the door, carefully watching for any sign of movement.

Print secured, Bucky and Sharon slipped out of the warehouse, moving swiftly through the dark Madripoor alleys. The adrenaline still flowed in Bucky’s veins, but when he glanced at the case in Sharon’s arms, he felt a surge of relief.

They had done it. The print was his. Yours.

—

You came through the front door, tired but smiling. “Buck, you home?” you called out, taking off your shoes and dropping your bag on the side table. He had been away for the last couple of days. For a mission, he had said, though he had been vague. He was supposed to be home today.

“In here,” came his reply from the living room. There was a slight edge to his voice— like he was holding something back in anticipation.

You walked into the living room only to stop dead in your tracks. 

Bucky stood there with a sleeveless shirt, placing a screwdriver on the table next to him. The print was hanging on the wall, illuminated by the soft glow of newly installed lamps around it. The familiar sight of the wave crashing down with unrelenting power, the grounding calm Mount Fuji in the background made your heart skip a beat.

You've spent so much of your spare time studying it, that you know this wasn’t just a print. It was one of the prints.

Your hand flew to your mouth, your eyes widening as you took slow steps closer to it. You were almost afraid it would crumble before your very eyes if you got too close.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “This… this can’t be real.”

Bucky stepped up beside you, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gave you a small, almost shy smile. “It is,” he confirmed. 

You took another slow step forward, eyes still locked on the print. How did he do this?

Your mind raced back to the past few weeks, remembering the subtle changes in Bucky’s behaviour—how he’d been more secretive, how he’d mentioned that mission but never gave you any real details. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, assuming it was just another dangerous job, but now it all made sense.

This wasn’t just a print hanging on the wall. This was weeks—maybe months—of effort. Planning. Risking his life in ways he probably would never tell you about. 

“Bucky… this is—this is one of the original prints.” You eyed the certificate of authenticity on the table by where he was standing.”This is—oh my God—why—how did you even get this?”

He shrugged, his lips forming a small smile. “Had to pull a few strings. Nothing too crazy. Had help from Sharon, too.”

You looked at him like you didn’t quite believe him, but the joy in your eyes made every bullet dodged, every shady deal, worth it. 

He tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but the way his lips curved up in a knowing smile told you otherwise. “You’ve been talking about getting a print for so long,” he said. 

Your heart swelled at the thought, imagining the sheer effort he had gone through just to get this for you. “Are you insane, Buck? I asked for a reproduction print, maybe. but this…”

You still couldn’t quite believe it. You knew how rare this print was, how impossible it was to find, and yet… here it was. Hanging in your living room. For you.

You turned to face him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just want to make my girl happy,” he said, his voice as soft and sincere as it has ever been. 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in a bear hug. “You make me happy, you know that, right?”

Bucky’s smile widened just a little, his metal arm resting on the small of your back. “I know,” he murmured. 

You wiped the hint of a happy tear on your eyes as you turned back to the print, taking it in once more. “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met,” you said, “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I think we both are.”

Bucky pulled back slightly, shifting behind you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, his chin resting gently on your shoulder. The two of you stood there, side by side, gazing at the artwork. The warmth of his body against yours felt grounding, comforting.

“So…” he murmured, his breath soft against your neck, “now that you’ve got your Great Wave, what’s next? Starry Night?”

You laughed, scoffing at the thought of owning a Van Gogh. That would never happen, right? “I think I’ve got enough rare art for a lifetime.”

He grinned. “All you have to do is ask.”

You smiled, turning your head to look at him, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips met yours in the softest, most delicate kiss.

The Great Wave may be hanging on the wall in front of you, but to you, the true masterpiece— the one that truly mattered— was the man you loved.

-end

[hedgehog-moss]

Do you know much of the history of the town you live near? I noticed some very old-looking stone buildings in your photos from the cow parade - does much of the town look like that or were those heritage buildings?

Unfortunately almost every town has some Ugly Modern Houses, but they're usually in the outskirts, while the centre is quite preserved. It's mostly ~200yo houses though, with the occasional very old house (like, 17th century). The towns that used to have a castle often still have a mediaeval layout, with a cluster of houses and narrow streets; sometimes (remains of) ramparts. And every village worthy of the name has the mandatory mediaeval church in the plaza (except mine which has a modern Victorian Gothic church that's like 150yo, but we have the ruins of a mediaeval monastery to make up for it)

One little local history fact I know is that this town that had the cow parade was named after a Central Asian tribe that invaded the region ~1,600 years ago and later helped fight off Attila when the Huns were invading! The cows don't know that. I love knowing where place names come from (unless they mean stuff like "by the river" which is boring.) I went to visit a Gallo-Roman site recently and there was a sign displaying some text by Julius Caesar in which he listed all the Celtic tribes he defeated here, and I thought it was so cool that some of these names are still familiar because they are preserved in place names. The Roman invasion days, two millennia ago, already feel quite faraway but by then the Celts had already lived here for centuries—I wish the specific Gallic tribe that started farming around here in the Iron Age could know that 2,500 years later people are still farming in this place that's still named after their tribe.

Your question made me realise that what I associate with "appreciating local history" is like, going to see the ruins of some 2nd century Roman thermal baths or temples or learning that a town was named after a guy who owned the place in 847 AD, and I don't pay enough attention to the 16th century houses near my dentist's office or the 12th century church in front of the vet clinic. I should appreciate these time periods more! I do love the look of mediaeval towns with their tiny tortuous streets that make life difficult for people who drive stupidly big cars. And I love mediaeval castles, though I've only visited 2 of the 150-or-so castles (not counting the ruins) this region boasts (I use 'boasts' ironically, there's another region nicknamed "the 1001 castles" so our score is pitiful.) (They don't actually have 1001 castles, they're lying, it's like 600, plus some glorified manor houses that don't count)

Last-minute addition: I drafted this reply last weekend and today I saw some ruins in a town where I went to have my spring water analysed, and decided to pop by the town hall to learn more. I learnt that the ruins are what remains of the town's castle, which "successfully resisted many English attacks" (that's what they always say) and was then offered by the King to a courtier in the 1450s, and the courtier hated it because it was 400 years-old and cold and draughty and falling apart so he never lived here. The town hall lady was so unimpressed by her town's attractions it was funny—I imagine if I'd been a tourist she would have tried to sell it to me more but knowing I live nearby she was like, well our town has a 13th century church like everyone else and here's our "castle" that's a ruin now and that was already a ruin in Joan of Arc times. To add some fun fact about their castle she said that a Valois Queen had slept there for a few nights at some point and I said eagerly "Queen Margot?" and the woman said "... no it was in the 1300s. Queen Margot went to [better castle farther North]", in such a humble tone that I felt bad for accidentally pointing out that unlike [Rival Town] they got one of those obscure Valois queens no one cares about.

[kiame-sama]

Random Headcannons for the TWST Monster AU that I have drawn so far.

Warnings; Ortho and Grim are platonic, yandere, multiple yanderes, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, virginity mention, Rook has a thing with the Human's feet, Idia is about 9ft (274.32cm) in my AU, antler rack point system/terminology, Lilia is 700+ years old and has seen some shit,

- Riddle has a near instinctual drive to be near the Human he has come to adore because Unicorns and Humans were among the first to befriend one another. Unicorns are driven to be around Humans as the emotional control most Humans have soothe the Unicorns. The Human does not need to be a virgin for the Unicorn to feel bonded with them, but the idea of 'purity' has been upheld by Unicorns for a long period of time. Unicorns can mostly sense a Human's virginity through their heightened magical senses, typically compelling the Unicorn to feel an emotional bond with the Human and a desire to protect that purity their Human has.

- Riddle admires the Queen of Hearts who was a Unicorn like himself. He always loved stories of the Queen's King of Hearts- a meek Human man- who convinced the Queen to show fairness and give trial to those who were accused of breaking laws. From the time he was a foal, Riddle believed that if he ever met a Human, he would make them his King of Hearts and have an unbreakable bond with them the same way the Queen of Hearts did with her King of Hearts. The second Riddle learned there was a Human in Night Raven College, he was already planning how he was going to propose to them and make them his cherished King of Hearts.

- Riddle studied the history of Humans when he was a young child, almost as closely as he studied the rules the Queen of Hearts made. He grew up with a certain prejudice towards Gnolls, Nemean Lions, and other species that ate Humans previously. Most Unicorns share this prejudice as the extinction of Humans led to the realization that a Human's emotional wellbeing actually empowered the Unicorns they lived with, meaning their extinction weakened Unicorns as a whole. Unicorns that had been in the presence of Humans before their extinction actually suffered withdrawal symptoms when the Humans were no more, leading to the belief that Humans were almost addictive in different ways to different species.

- Riddle can barely swim and when he does swim, he is swimming for his life. Some Unicorns are excellent swimmers, but Riddle is not one of those Unicorns. When Riddle was younger he actually fell into a lake and almost drowned. A rather young Trey was the one who pulled Riddle from the water, taking the drenched Unicorn back home for sweets and comfort where he met the Bakeneko Che'nya and the three became friends. Riddle is twice Trey's age, but Unicorns age twice as slowly as most other species, meaning Trey is actually more mature than Riddle despite Riddle being older.

- Leona is a Nemean Lion and Nemean Lions are obligate carnivores, meaning their diet is about 70% meat. He usually eats his meat raw as he is too lazy to cook it, but he has picked up on the scents Ruggie has brought back to Savanaclaw and has wondered about joining the Gnoll for his daily visits to Ramshackle for food. He is aware others don't trust him alone around the Human, but Ruggie is also a species that traditionally ate Humans and seems to get along just fine with the Human.

- Leona calls the Human by the nickname 'Mousey' because he sees the Human to be as fragile as a mouse when compared to his own strength and power. It really isn't worth killing a Mouse for food when you're a Lion due to how small they are and Leona views the Human as the same. It isn't worth eating the Human for the absolute backlash and poor treatment he would receive as a result when he has already received poor treatment from many other students due to the still damaging rumors around Sunset Savana.

- Leona actually told his brother Falena about the Human that first day they fell into the sorting ceremony. Falena was dubious about the authenticity of Leona's claim until Cater's picture with the Human began popping up everywhere as all of Twisted Wonderland learned there was a Human at Night Raven College. The elder brother urges Leona to be careful but to try and befriend the Human as it could only mean good things for their Kingdom and for the view of the Kingdom. He has asked several times for Leona to intentionally take a photo of the Human with the Nemean Lion to create the foundation for a more positive look for Sunset Savana.

- Leona warned everyone in Savanaclaw that first day to not touch or hassle the Human regardless of what the Human may do. He did this through direct treats and displays of power over his dorm to ensure not a thing happens to that annoyingly fragile Mousey. He also threatened that should anyone from the dorm harm the Human, he will use King's Roar on them and erase them from existence for their crimes. Despite how moody he behaves towards the Human, he actually longs to be by their side and wonders how it would feel to be pet by the Human after a long day. He will never ask, but one day he may demand affection from that Human.

- Ruggie tends to be loyal to those that feed him, only sharing his own food with those he deeply cares about. Leona was the primary source of food for the Gnoll and so, Ruggie became a lackey for the Lion simply because the Lion fed him, but it was still not as much or as often as the Gnoll actually needed. Once Ruggie began getting meals from the Human, he actually has filled out a bit more and isn't quite as skinny anymore, having a more balanced diet and hearty meals. Ruggie would even turn on Leona for the Human should they ask him to. He won't be excited about it, and he will be terrified, but he will still do it only for them.

- Gnolls do have a gene for growing winter coats, much like their Hyena counterparts, but he is not a fan of the cold despite that fact. It takes more calories to stay warm in winter- even with thick winter fur- so Ruggie has a certain dislike for the cold. His fur becomes extremely dense and makes him look much fluffier than usual, making it ideal to bury one's face in and take comfort in the thick pelt. Ruggie wonders if he can carry the Human around in winter because they are usually so warm and they may enjoy the thickness of his pelt during the cold seasons as well.

- Ruggie has fallen into the habit of waking early to camp out outside of Ramshackle so he can smell when the Human starts cooking breakfast. Alternatively, he has also started camping out near Ramshackle in the evenings for the same reason. So long as he can keep getting those wonderful meals, he will be able to die a happy Gnoll. Should the Human ever need a taste tester, he will happily volunteer his services and will always be ready to eat more of whatever it is the Human makes. Food is food and food is good.

- Ruggie loves physical affection and yearns to be in a group for both numbers and camaraderie, so anytime he is around the Human, he feels that sense of belonging. He will likely be the first to beg the Human to pet him, melting from the feel of their soft hands in his fur. His tail will wag and if the petting is sublime enough, he may even begin to cackle and whine from the petting. Once pet, he will become hooked to the gentle affection and will become rather needy for continued petting in the future. He is happy to try and pet the Human in return, but he does need to be careful of his claws and it confuses him that the Human is not as enthusiastic about being petted instead.

- Vil is a very proud Harpy and is genetically built to be proud. As a Peacock Harpy, Vil grows long train feathers that he tends to carefully. Stepping on, touching, or otherwise brushing against his feathers will make the Harpy angry with the offending party excepting very few- primarily Rook and the Human- and he will become violent towards those who dare sully his feathers. Tail feathers are saved and used by the Harpy as tokens of affection or approval, crown feathers are saved in a jar and are only going to be gifted to someone who truly means the world to Vil, flight feathers are saved, neck and body feathers are either thrown away or used as stuffing for pillows.

- Vil has made many adjustments to his dorm uniform to accommodate his tail and wings, going as far as to leave large slits in the back of his uniform that allow him to insert his wings into the openings. There are several buttons that run the length of these openings so Vil can button up his uniform around his wings instead of leaving them open and his back exposed. His pants are made with a large opening in the back that can be buttoned at the top to close his pants around his tail without impacting his feathers. He has made similar adjustments to his ceremonial robes and to his regular uniform.

- The purple in his hair and the blue and white coloration on his face are not artificially added. The skin around his eyes has that color as a natural tint, but Vil will occasionally cover it up with foundation to put on different eye-makeup. He usually doesn't cover up his eye-marks as he sees them as his natural beauty shining forth but he will occasionally reshape them with makeup or add a glitter over them to emphasize his features. The purple is a unique color even for peacock Harpies which can actually be attributed to Vil's mother- a Purple Chested Hummingbird Harpy- and his extra color makes many other male Harpies jealous as purple is a rarer color.

- Vil's temper doesn't often show through, especially because he is an actor and has learned to mute his natural reactions, but there are several signs to tell how Vil feels at any given time. When his neck feathers ruffle he is usually in a bad mood or something has irritated him. When his seven crest feathers raise up- as they are typically laying flat into his hair- he is feeling proud or posturing to tease other males. When his crest is up and his tail feathers are up, his wings will spread out and display, this is only in the extremely rare case Vil is showing off for a prospective mate. To date he has only displayed his full feathers twice, and once was on accident, the other was for his Human when he first officially met them.

- Rook has always had a certain obsession with those who are different- either more beastly than others or more tame- and his Human checks every box Rook has for the most interesting being he has met. From the Human's near useless natural weapons to the Human's surprising fragility, Rook is hooked on knowing everything he possibly can about the Human. He has a particular interest in the Human's feet as most other species in Twisted Wonderland do not have feet the way the Human does. Even Vil and beautiful Neige have bird feet and talons instead of these odd feet the Human has. He will try to keep his unusual interest concealed for the most part, but can't resist holding the Human's feet and even petting them as he paints their nails.

- Rook has an instinctual aversion to garlic and does what he can to avoid foods with garlic in them as well as mint and lavender. The scents are very strong and almost overpowering to Rook, so it bothers him deeply when there are even cloves of garlic around him. This being said, if the Human made food with garlic in it, Rook would still eat it and fight every single instinct he has to spit it out. Even if it hurts his stomach and makes him ill, he will eat the food because HIS Human made it for him and he needs them to know how much he adores them and values their skills. Vil is almost disgusted with how down bad Rook is- knowing how much the Drider despises garlic- but acquiesces to the fact that he also has a similar drive to appease and please the Human.

- Rook can spin three types of webbing that all have different uses in his everyday life. First is his sticky webbing which is used to make most webs and to ensnare prey despite him rarely using this webbing for hunting. Second is his nesting webbing which is not sticky and has the consistency closer to silk, used mainly in the heart of his webs as bedding or as a way to keep warm in cooler weather. Third is binding webbing often used to tie up prey and mates alike, stronger and sturdier like rope compared to other webbing. Vil is particularly interested in the second type of webbing as it is ideal for making fabrics that are more durable and breathable than silk. Rook demands that at least one of the outfits chosen for the Human by himself, Vil, and Divus is made from his personal silk. He secretly hopes to make Lingerie from his silk for his Human and hopes they will give him a show while they wear it.

- Rook prefers wild caught game as opposed to meats from livestock and will often hunt his own meals down in the forests around Night Raven College. He often offers these meats to Vil as well despite the fact the Harpy dislikes how gristly wild caught game tends to be. Rook hopes that one day he can catch prey for the Human to cook up, wishing to be a kind of provider for the Human he adores so much.

- Grim has an extremely acidic stomach and can digest most items, even if they are not traditionally considered food items. He can eat rocks and tree-bark but prefers the food his Human makes for him. He has no allergies that he is aware of and has a very large appetite for one so small.

- Every scar was made by a different animal and every scar was a time Grim almost lost his life to one of the other beasts of the forest. Due to his injury over his right eye, he can't see very well out of it and it occasionally causes him pain.

- Grim is considered to be an anomaly as he is more sentient than the other wild beasts of the forests but his magic is more like a wild animal. As a result, Grim cannot use a magestone due to the wild nature of his magic, but he is also more resistant to overblotting as well because his magic is fueled by the magic in the land itself.

- For as long as Grim can remember, he has lived in the forests around Night Raven College grounds. As a result, he has a certain jealousy towards the students he would see wandering around the school grounds. He never understood why they were so special and could go to the school but he couldn't.

- Ortho is 40% mechanical as a result of being attacked by a Feral Overblotted Shinigami when he was young. His injuries almost killed him and resulted in him having to live in a mechanical iron-lung to keep him alive while Idia began crafting his augmented limbs. It is because of these injuries that Ortho has become such a powerful mage as he needs to use magic to fuel the limbs and make them work. This constant use of magic has actually increased his resistance to Overblotting due to the constant magical output and presence of blot within Ortho's body, giving him a resistance to the magical waste created.

- Ortho is the baby of the Shroud family and is often given preferential treatment as a result of this. He doesn't like it. Due to his injuries he has always had a longing for independence that he can't really have given the fact Idia is the one who makes and updates his cybernetics. Ortho is smart for his age, even for a Shinigami, and as such is able to attend Night Raven College with Idia despite the typical school age for Shinigami being 25. Ortho may be 13 and seen as a young child by his family, but he is actually more magically adept than almost every other family member except for Hades.

- The device on Ortho's hip is an O2 and CO2 monitor that adjusts automatically based on how much oxygen is in his blood. He can take the mask off, but he cannot be without it for long as it does help him immensely with breathing and removing CO2 from his body. His lung is an artificial creation made by Idia and almost functions as well as a real lung, but still falls just a bit short of the real deal. Most of Ortho's prosthetic limbs are works in progress as they need to be altered and adjusted as Ortho grows, given Shinigami keep growing throughout their lives.

- Ortho's wings are modeled after Harpies more than the traditional Shinigami wings as Shinigami have specialized feathers that technically should not be able to be used for flight. Similar designs would leave Ortho flightless, so Idia made Harpy-like wings instead so Ortho can still use them to fly. He is sad that his wings are not like the wings of his family, but he understands that Shinigami feathers are quite different from typical bird feathers.

- Idia does not wear makeup. His lip color, eyeshadow and even the gem-like structures on his face are all natural formed. The gem-like structures are actually a result of acne scars because Idia often picked at his face when he was younger, leading the skin to grow back stronger and almost like gemstones. They are rock-hard and shine like gems despite being natural formations of skin and change color with his hair due to having magical qualities much like the flaming hair all Shrouds possess.

- Idia's hair changes color depending on his emotions and it usually takes a strong emotion to make the flames that are his hair change color. The typical fire-red is when Idia becomes heated or legitimately angry usually due to a videogame he is playing or someone is pushing him too much. He learns that his hair will burn a magenta-pink when he is gazing affectionately at his Human while they game, immersed in the story and general gameplay. When his hair burns this magenta color, heart shapes can be seen within the flames. His hair will burn white if he becomes too anxious, the lighter his hair becomes the more anxious he is.

- Idia is aware he is different in size compared to the other students and often skips classes because of it. He doesn't want to be looked at or perceived for too long, hence why he actually waited for Ortho to grow up a bit so he could attend Night Raven College with his younger brother as an anxiety buffer. Due to Idia's anxiety at being looked at, he often will curl up his body and tuck in his limbs while sitting to appear smaller than he is. His hope is the smaller he appears, the less likely others will be to stare at him when they see him.

- Idia's hair is flames and as flames they put out a natural light. This light is less intense than most flames, but it does mean that Idia and others of the Shroud family struggle to sleep. Shinigami don't need as much sleep as most other species and can go days without sleeping, but when they do need sleep, they need eye-cover to not be woken up by their flames. Their hair is water resistant and can continue to burn underwater as it is magical in nature and behaves differently from regular fire due to being Shinigami fire.

- Silver has a three point rack as he has three points to his antlers, so not the biggest rack and not the smallest either when compared to other Cervitaur. He does shed his antlers and even has velvet that he needs to rub off of his antlers whenever a new pair grow in. Lilia is obsessed with collecting the shed velvet and antlers as they are a way for the old Bat Fae to remember his son by. Silver is not Fae and will likely die before Lilia does as a result, so he is indulgent of allowing Lilia to collect the antlers and shed velvet. Silver often leaves home to shed his velvet or antlers because Lilia can be a bit too excited to collect the shed and will even try to take the velvet directly from Silver's antlers before he can get it off himself.

- Silver wields a short-sword and has been trained in the use of a variety of weapons by Lilia to protect Malleus. He prefers the shortsword as it has greater control than a greatsword but has better reach than a dagger. He can often be seen training with Sebek and Lilia in the use of this weapon and will train until he is proficient enough to dispatch enemies efficiently. Should Silver lose his sword, he can also use his antlers to skewer his foes and his legs to kick them as needed.

- Silver is a herd species, and Malleus' Hoard is his herd. He will feel nervous or uneasy if he is alway from his herd for too long and can often struggle to make himself comfortable without at least one member of his herd nearby. Despite this, he can still fall asleep in random places despite how alone he may be even with his preference to be around his herd. He is protective of his herd and will be violent towards those who threaten any member of his herd regardless of if that member is stronger or weaker than he is.

- Silver grew up eating Lilia's cooking and believed all cooking made food worse, not better as a result. Once he tasted his Human's cooking, he actually realized that it was just a problem with Lilia's cooking specifically. He now hopes he gets to taste all kinds of meals and hopes they are all made by the Human he so deeply cares for. He still cringes any time Lilia wants to cook and hopes that perhaps his Human can teach his Father how to actually cook things properly.

- Lilia has had several adopted children over the years, Silver being his most recent adoptee. Lilia has raised only one Human, but he loved his little Human baby and it broke his heart to see that same infant become elderly and pass due to age. He still thinks Humans are precious and hopes that he can cajole this new Human into giving him more babies to raise. If Lilia had his way, he would be raising a herd of half-Human infants, one Dragon halfling, one Cervitaur halfling, one Raiju halfling, and one or more Vampire Bat halflings. He genuinely wants an infant combination from every Hoard member including himself.

- Lilia is sensitive to sound and will often be the first to alert to abnormal sounds due to this sensitive hearing. This also means that whenever Malleus conjures thunder, Lilia will magically deafen himself or dampen his hearing so the thunder does not cause him pain. Lilia takes comfort in hearing the heartbeats of Malleus' Hoard around him while he sleeps and can usually tell whenever a Hoard member is having a nightmare due to their heartbeat. He will often try to groom the one having a nightmare and soothe them back into restful sleep.

- Lilia is second in command of the Hoard and technically has the final say even over Malleus as he is the eldest of the Hoard and has more experience than Malleus by at least 500 years. Usually Lilia encourages Malleus to be the final say in decisions but will put his foot down should it seem like the Dragon is making a poor choice or is acting too closely to his emotions. He is often the one who makes the rational suggestions in a heated moment and has greater control of his emotions due to his age.

- Lilia learned to cook through observation of the Humans he often took shelter with in times of war in Briar Valley. Because he was never officially trained to cook, he is abysmally bad at it but still tries so he can revisit those lovely memories of sitting around a table with a Human family, breaking bread and making friends over a shared meal. Lilia mourned the extinction of Humans more than most and even more than most Fae as he spent so long among the fragile species, protecting them and learning to love the beautiful and kind creatures that were so very different from himself.

[morganbritton132]

I love the newer teachers not knowing who Eddie is and visiting Steve at his house and wondering how they can afford such a nice house. I can imagine that they live in a house way above a teachers salary, much less a teacher with presumably, a lot of medical bills. They see gold records hanging on the walls and all of Eddie’s awards on a bookshelf and they are trying to connect the dots to who Eddie is.

David’s first impression of Steve is, admittedly, not great.

He was hired as a long-term substitute halfway through the school year and technically, Mr. Harrington was the only teacher on their floor not to introduce himself to him. They’re supposed to cover the eighth grade lunch period together, but Steve hasn’t shown up once since David was started three days ago.

Instead, the principal covered for him.

Cindy McCullen, the gossipy history teacher across the hall from him, says that it’s because of favoritism. She says that Principal Moreno always lets her favorites run rampant around the school and lets them do whatever they want, especially if they’re tenured. Steve Harrington is the most egregious example of blatant favoritism.

David starts to form an opinion about Mr. Harrington in his mind that only gets worse with every story he hears from Cindy. So, it’s a bit of a shock when Steve shows up for lunch duty the next day with a whole ass service dog.

He feels like an asshole.

Especially because Steve is so apologetic about missing the last three days and leaving David to ‘the wolves’ during his first week, “Is this your first teaching job? I’ve heard from the kids that you’re doing great!”  

He makes a conscious effort after that to get to know Steve and to stop letting other people form his opinions for him. Though, admittedly. He kinda fucks that up too.

The first time David meets Eddie, he thinks that he’s Steve’s brother.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t talk about his life outside of work. It’s just that he doesn’t go into a lot a detail. David knows that he’s married to a man, that he’s from Indiana originally, and he might have a kid. Maybe? A girl name Erica that tells him what a brony is and how they ruin everything.

Hell, David’s not even entirely sure he knows what Ozzy is in service of. Steve just said that he bumped his head one too many times and now he has a dog so his husband stops worrying so much.

The only surefire thing that David knows is that Steve has a brother that’s a bit of a dork. He has great hair and is really smart, but lacks tact. Steve loves him. You can tell by the way that he talks about the guy.

So one day, David is in the teacher’s lounge heating up a cup of Easy Mac while Steve is sitting with his head down at one of the tables. He’s about to suggest that Steve go home and sleep off whatever cold he has when a guy with long hair and a leather jacket sticks his head in the room and declares, “You look like shit.”

Steve doesn’t even lift his head when he flips him off which is – whoa, not something that David would expect from Mr. Harrington. He makes himself busy with stirring his mac and cheese while the two bicker with each other which is, admittedly, childish.

Leather Jacket’s main argument for why Steve has to listen to him and go home is because he’s older. Steve croaks out that that is bullshit and Leather Jacket threatens to call their Uncle Wayne if Steve doesn’t listen. He eventually agrees.

Before they leave, Leather Jacket sticks his hand out to David and introduces himself as the cooler Mr. Harrington (that gets a laugh out of Steve).

So, color him shocked when Steve invites their event committee over to his house.

David hasn’t even fully gotten over how nice of a neighborhood Steve lives in on a teacher and retiree’s salary when Leather Jacket gets introduced as Eddie, the husband Steve has mentioned. Then he just casually mentions a red carpet like, what?

And the craziest part is that he’s asked about his husband before!

Steve mentioned once that his husband was out of town and when David asked what he did for work, Steve said that he was retired. He said that his husband can play guitar and that one of their friends (James Hetfield) needed a last minute guitarist for some kind of fair (Coachella) so Eddie went to help out.

He definitely worded it like playing guitar was just a hobby that his husband has, not like. Not like platinum records lining the hallway to their bathroom or the picture of Steve and Eddie in Vegas with KISS stuck to the fridge. He swears the note on the dry erase board by the garage entrance signed ‘Dave’ is in Dave Grohl’s handwriting.

There’s an Grammy on the bookshelf by the fireplace.

Who the hell is Steve Harrington?

Better question: Who the hell is Eddie Munson?

Kathy laughs the entire drive to her house and she is still laughing when he drops her off. The only thing she says that could even be considered an answer is, “I think he’s on Tiktok. Start there.” 

[the-amazing-digital-time-capsule]

The Amazing Digital Time Capsule!

The Au is Currently in the works, but I have plans and will constantly be expanding it!

The blog is run by @mangotangerinepastry I will take questions and post things there as well. This blog was made mostly so I can just organize my ideas better.

Synopsis

"Every period of time holds value! no matter what its current situation. Why lose the culture from any period, visit and contribute to the ever growing collection human history with our Digital Time Capsule!"

Unfortunately leaving was not apart of the deal...

New Designs (in progress)

The current contributors of the capsule are (Outdated new designs and cards coming)

Content

Official comic

TADTC #1

TADTC #2

Canon fics

The Anniversary Ball ( @thescarletnargacuga )

Bullseye ( @thescarletnargacuga )

Official Lore

Caines habit

Ragatha and the Kids

The Aftermath

Abstraction

Caine through the years

The Adults

Lore Dump #1

Lore Dump#2

The First Real Conversation

Lore Asks

Swearing | How the AI stays in Control of Leaders | Pomni and Caine Duet? | Wing Man Gangle | Life for Caine in the 20s | The Adults | Why Caine loves Pomni | Relationships, Showtime?|

Side events

The Piano (ShowTime Comic)

Sleep deprived concept art

Showtime kiss (non canon)

Yeehaw (showtime comic)

HD (non canon...kinda)

!RULES!

Roleplay Asks?

I'm not a roleplay account! I just tell the story, so please don't send roleplay related asks. Basically just don't ask characters things directly, they will not respond. If you do send an ask that addresses a character I might ( under the right circumstances) still answer it but the character will not. I love interacting with you guys and answering questions but I do not feel comfortable doing roleplay or pretending to be a character. I simply act as a narrator.

Outside Content

Asks and Fanart, if anyone wants to, are welcome! So are fanfics and comic dubing. Please Tag Me if you make art (I want to see it)! Unless it's NSFW, I really would not like anyone making NSFW content with my au, but if you still feel inclined to make it, just don't tag me. I don't want to see NSFW.

The only Canonical ship is showtime, take with that what you will.

[iiseult]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝑜𝓊𝓇: 𝑀𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝒻𝑒

CWs →  BALDWIN OILS HIMSELF UP, angst, love letters, themes of war and death, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism

Wordcount: 3.3k

Note: This might be my favorite chapter. Please let me know your thoughts, and pay special attention to the cross necklace. You'll see what I mean. <3

It was not so dramatic, the way his illness progressed, but progress it did. The Holy Disease was inevitable, and he’d always known that. Six months and he was losing sight in his left eye, his peripheral vision effectively ceasing to exist. Twelve months and the eye was becoming clouded and sapped of its color, like something bleached by the sun, only a baby blue now when it used to be so much deeper. Eighteen months and everything through the eye was covered in an indispersable layer of silver mist. And then there was his little finger, the poor little finger on his left hand which he could no longer feel, and when he commanded it to move, it was as if a phantom were possessing it. If it weren’t for the fact that he could see it moving, wiggling back and forth, he likely wouldn’t have any idea whether or not it was really happening. Often he frowned at it in concentration, exercising his will over it and forcing it to move, desperately trying to feel something. Every time he was forced to give up, frustrated. However, the majority of his skin and all of his features were still perfectly intact, and for that he was grateful. 

That September he fell ill with fever. Forty-two days and nights he laid in bed, watching drowsily as the sun made its daily voyage across the heavens, warming his too-warm skin and blinding his aching eyes. In periods of occasional lucidity his thoughts lingered only on you. He would see a flash; then the fullness of your lips, the sweet curve of your neck, the shape of your back, and were you wearing your sapphire today? He could picture it clearly, lying against the firm softness of your full bosom, gleaming like a winking eye. Ah, sick mind. Shameful thoughts. He redirected them. What of the kingdom, his kingdom? What of his sister Sybilla, and her son, his baby nephew Baldwin V? They did not come to visit because Sybilla claimed she couldn’t bear the sight of her beloved brother in so much pain. And then his mother was dead, a few months buried. Nobody left to come visit.

He continued to read during this time. He was brought books on war and strategy, classic and ancient tales of love and romance, history, and Greek literature, of which he had always been very fond. Perhaps it was these such books that gave him his next brilliant idea. 

He sent for ink and parchment, lots of parchment, and when he felt well enough he sat up in bed and took up his supplies and got to work. Pages upon pages he produced, many times rambling and repetitive in nature because of his fever-addled mind, but always strikingly sincere. From his very heart he wrote, hours each day, and he didn’t share his work with anyone. When Raymond visited he would conceal everything under the covers, or else slide them under the bed. 

It was a woman, always the same woman, that he wrote about or wrote to or described in as much detail as he could. Each time he painted a picture of her with his words, a new facet of her beauty was revealed, a new angle, a new reason to love her. And he knew that he did love her. Completely enchanted. Utterly enraptured. Such tender feelings, such longing! He found himself writing cliches while trying to adequately express the extent of his feelings. And each one of these pieces of writing was addressed to you. 

“By chance, I met you in the library. I was playing chess. Raymond likes to cheat when I look away from the chessboard because he says the battlefield is just like a game of chess, and in a real battle you must never look away because your opponent does not always play fair. But I would forfeit all my knights and rooks for you, so I looked away from him and towards you instead. 

“And when you looked at me, my heart leapt in my chest and a feeling like warm water cascading down my shoulders overtook me and I could not speak. I held my hand out to you and did your bidding, and then I could stand it no longer so I went away. The warmth was becoming unbearable. I was overcome. As if I were a cauldron of boiling water, I burned and then softened and turned pink as something bubbled up inside me. I know all this happened for you. And when ever I thought of you and your exquisite beauty for the rest of the day the same feeling came, tingling in all my nerves. I thought then that it was not unlike having a fever. 

“But now I know better, and now that I know with refreshed memory what fever is like, I can say that it’s nothing like you. This fever is harsh and unrelenting. This fever is painful, not pleasurable. There is a heat threatening to overtake me so that I never cool down. But what is this feeling that comes when ever I see you? Dearest Lady, I suspect that this must be love.”

But those were the good days. Those days he could think clearly and articulate properly. So many more of his days were spent too sick to stay awake, drifting in and out of this mortal plane, tangled up in a haze of confusion and stale bedsheets, having long since sweated through them. 

His birthday passed. Sixteen, finally, but he didn’t know it until days later, when came his next period of lucidity. His sister sent a gift– fresh, new robes made of silk to soothe his raw skin, embroidered in rich, gold thread. Raymond brought him a quill made from a peacock feather, blue and green and shimmering. It made him laugh when he saw it. Raymond was referencing a joke between the two of them, where the peacocks in the garden often interrupted their conversations with their awful, hideous squawking (for such magnificent looking creatures, their calls were surprisingly grating). And from you, lying on the bedside table, was a parcel of brown parchment tied with a thick white ribbon. He knew that ribbon, for he had seen you wear it in your hair once. 

He pulled it loose and placed it aside, intending on keeping it on his person at all times so he might always carry a piece of you wherever may go. He peeled back the paper, sliding it off to reveal a mahogany box. It was unremarkable, but his heart was beating wildly in his throat as he flipped up the delixate metal latch and opened the sleek lid. Resting against the silk-lined interior were two things; a large glass jar full of an amber-colored liquid, sealed with a cork; and a delicate chain with a plain gold cross hanging from it. And then, under the jar, he saw something else– the corner of a folded piece of parchment. A note! He snatched it up and unfolded it hungrily. It was written in your pretty feminine hand, which sent a fiery gust of heat blasting through his veins. 

“Your Majesty, happy sixteenth birthday. I know this is but a meager gift for a king, but I fear I cannot match your wealth or creativity. The necklace is one of the only things I brought from home. I wore it round my own neck every day then, and I do believe it has served me quite well, given my current position as queen. I am giving it to you in hopes that, God willing, your condition might improve. The oil is what I use after my baths to soothe dry skin, especially in these coming winter months. Perhaps it will help you in a more practical sense. Many birthday wishes, and prayers for a speedy recovery. Sincerely, your wife, Y/N.” 

He pressed the letter to his chest, almost as if he were trying to become one with it. Then he took the delicate gold chain between his fingers and unclasped it, draping it across his neck and securing it again. It fell against his collarbones and glistened handsomely, feeling very cold against his feverish skin, and yet his heart warmed when he thought of you wearing this very chain, day in and day out. What had touched your skin was now touching his. The very notion was enough to make him shiver. 

He did not take the necklace off again, not even for his bath that evening, or after it when he retired to his chambers for the remainder of the night. 

Baldwin shrugged off his bathrobe and layed, completely nude, on his silk sheets, where the jar of oil from you was waiting. He savored the feeling of its cool glass against his hands, still rife with fever, and then pressed his cheek to its surface, deeply inhaling the rich scent of the night air which drifted through the open window. To know that your hands had touched that very jar made him pulse with excitement. That you had thought of him with some amount of tenderness, that you had thought of him at all, touched him. 

Carefully he pulled the cork from the mouth of the jar with a gentle “pop,” and set it aside. He brought the jar up to his nose. It smelled sweet and flowery, very fresh. Clean. Comforting. Smelled like you. He sucked in another deep breath through his nose, letting the gentle fragrance wash over him and sink into his pores. Then he dipped two fingers into the jar and spread the thick liquid along his forearm, coating the skin there thoroughly. It was silky and cool and left a gloss in its wake. His dry, parched skin drank it up greedily, plumping up almost immediately. It was delicious. 

He poured a dollop of the stuff into his hands and rubbed them together, relishing the feeling of his slick palms sliding against each other. Languidly he massaged it into his chest, his arms, and his robust shoulders. He threw back his head and slowly worked the pads of his fingers into his delicate neck, feeling the tendons there roll beneach his touch. A small sound escaped his throat. Then he moved his hands lower, not neglecting a single inch of flesh. He splayed his fingers out over the white planes of his thighs, well-toned as they were, and then slid lower, past his knees and to his ankles. It was pure bliss. 

Once he was satisfied, he popped the cork back in the jar and leaned over, placing it on the side table, then blew out the candle, laying down finally with a sigh. His body sunk into the cloud of his mattress, his aching limbs met with instant relief. Beneath his pillow was your letter and ribbon. He slid his hand under it to feel for them, just to make sure they were still there, and once he was convinced, he slipped right under into a dreamless sleep. 

The very next morning, he woke to find that his fever had miraculously relented, leaving his forehead cool and dry. Amelia immediately informed you of his recovery, and though you were relieved, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from your shoulders, you couldn’t help but wonder how he had recovered literally overnight. It seemed nobody knew the answer, not even the physicians that came to examine him throughout the rest of the day. But perhaps it was better not to question it. 

Baldwin had but a few days to enjoy his renewed health before he thrust himself urgently back into work. During his prolonged illness, the ever-fickle political state of Jerusalem had become alarmingly unstable. The Saracens were threatening to wage war, led by the wise and formidable Saladin and his army, rumored to be made up of some 20,000 men. So Baldwin was faced with a harrowing decision, with thousands of lives hanging in the balance. Should he send his men to battle despite their meager numbers, where they would inevitably be met with death and destruction? Most of his knights had already been laid to waste, leaving behind largely unskilled fighters, and only 4,000 of them at that. And could he fulfill his kingly duty to fight alongside them, or would his frail body betray him? Such questions made him wonder if he was even worthy of his title. 

Self-loathing ate at him over the coming week until finally, he was forced to take action. Reynald de Châtillon had been pressuring him incessantly to fight, no matter the risk, arguing that it is God’s will and therefore Jerusalem could never fall. Baldwin wasn’t so sure. But deep in his heart, he knew he had no more time left to waste. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The morning was fair and the early sunlight mild, falling through the trees in pale yellow streaks. The trees had been turning all shades of red and orange for the past month, and now they were withering brown, falling, falling. The smell of smoke and chill was perpetual, and very pleasant. The month of November. Autumn in its prime. You woke up that morning not to the melodic calling of birds, which you had become accustomed to, nor the gentle rustling of leaves stirred by the wind, but the muffled cries of Amelia as she came to rouse you from your slumber. Though she had stuffed a handkerchief against her mouth to dampen the sounds, it was no use, and she could not stop it. You had woken up before she even made it to your bedside.

“Oh Amelia, whatever is the matter?” you asked, sitting up in bed with alarm and looking at her, concern heavy in your gaze. You’d seen her upset before, and it wasn’t an uncommon thing to see, but never had she been so outwardly aggrieved in your presence. The poor girl’s shoulders shook with every breath she took. As gently as you could, you got out of bed and guided her to sit on the edge of your mattress, where she promptly collapsed. 

“Oh, Your Majesty,” she wailed, looking up at you through tear-filled eyes, “the most awful, terrible thing has happened!”

Her bottom lip trembled, and her cheeks seemed to be flushing darker by the second. In fact, she seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, sensitive soul that she was. 

“What? What’s happened, dear girl?” you urged, wiping a runaway tear from her chin. An anticipatory panic had begun to build up inside you. All you could think was that somebody must be dead. Suddenly you were very worried for Matilda, whose frail, brittle bones would likely not survive an accident, which was a very real possibility. In her line of work, what with all the manual labor, you often feared for her health, though she always insisted on being fine. But those thoughts were soon completely dashed from your mind. 

“The Saracens…they’ve come! They’re here to take Jerusalem!” 

You were stunned into speechlessness. You did not quite know the full gravity of such a thing, of how dire this could be for your whole way of life, and that of your mother before you and of her mother before her. How much would change, were the crusaders to fall! But Amelia’s next words gave you a relative idea. 

“They say they’ve brought 20,000 men to Montisgard, to match our army of 4,000. Oh, Your Majesty, we are lost, lost!” she wailed, burying her tear-stained face in your shoulder. For a moment after that she continued talking, uttering those same words over and over again, “lost, lost,” as if trying to understand the meaning of them. But to you the message had been clear enough, and your heart dropped all the way down to your bowels and all you could think was; Baldwin. 

Baldwin, the sweet fair-haired boy who’d kissed your hand like it was a holy relic on your wedding day; the one who’d known you well enough from a scant few glimpses here and there to know which gifts to buy for your birthday– and, for the record, they had been the most thoughtful gifts you’d ever received; the one who, unbeknownst to you, prayed for you every night and every morning; the one who had loved you since the beginning. That one, going to fight in a war he was doomed to lose. 

And then you were crying too. Great, fat, burning tears glided down your cheeks and into your mouth and onto yours and Amelia’s dresses as you clutched her to you. Your breath could come only in heaving gasps, ripping through your chest painfully. So great was your pain! You could not see that boy die. Then came an image of his broken body lying alone on the muddy battlefield, indistinguishable from all the others in death. Snot dripped down your nose. You cared not. 

Matilda opened the door and came in quietly. Your eyes pleaded with her not to deliver to you any more bad news. Her face, drawn into a solid, impassible mask, revealed nothing, except that it looked wan and much older. In her hands was a towering stack of parchment, so tall that it obscured her entire chest from your view. 

“Your Majesty,” she called demurely, much softer than usual, “before his departure this morning the King instructed me to bring these for you.” 

Rather violently, you wiped the tears from your eyes and wordlessly took the stack into your own hands, taking great care not to drop any. Everything was blurry but you flipped through the pages nonetheless, sinking further and further into a state of hysteria as you did so, realizing with a pang of horror that each and every sheet was a letter from Baldwin, addressed to you. There must have been a thousand of them, enough for one every day since your marriage.

Three years worth of love letters. 

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying in vain to abate the new volley of tears welling up inside you. Never had you known such love and devotion from another human being, and you couldn’t even say thank you.

Or goodbye.

As you flipped through the pages, you became grave and still. 

“My Dear Little Wife, you were beautiful today. I could smell your rose-scented oil from down the corridor. How I love that good smell…”

“My Dear Little Wife, would that I could take you out to the city on my horse, that your beloved arms could wrap tightly around me as we gallop across the orange earth…”

“My Dear Little Wife, as the imminence of war falls upon me, I know that my time may soon come to an end. If I could wish for one thing in all the world, it would not be to cure myself of this accursed affliction, but to have more days to spend living in bliss under the same roof as you. To know you is to love you, my dear. I am sorry if we lose this battle and you are stripped of your queenly title. I am sorry for all that might happen then. Understand that I fight for you, ma cherie. With all the love and tenderness one man can hold in his heart, I bid you goodnight, as your faithful husband, Baldwin IV.”

Yes, that was it, the last letter in the stack, dated only yesterday, and presumably at night. You promised to yourself, and whatever else was listening, that in the event that he did not return, you would read and cherish each and every letter. But you could not dwell on that thought. He would come back. He must. Because you needed him. 

“Heavenly father, if you would bring him back to me, I swear I will spend every last day by his darling side.” 

//taglist: @lzsia @eatmeandbirthmeagain @likeanecho344 @lunargraveyard @yoursoulisinyourkeepingalone @stickparrot

if anyone else would like to be added, please comment to let me know!

[writerblue275]

Random BF!Heartsteel Headcanons!

Inspiration: You know what, why the hell not? I had these random thoughts and decided to jot them down and expand on them!

Genre: Headcanons

Type: Fluff

Gender: Gender Neutral reader

TW: None besides general swearing (because I swear lol)! This is very fluffy. 💙

Aphelios

Aphelios is an excellent gift giver. It’s not his main love language, but he is SO GOOD at reading people, so finding gifts that he thinks you’d like would come second nature to him. Not necessarily just big or grand things or even clothing. Phel is the type of person to see a cute little thing, like a keychain or pin, and because it makes him think of you, he just gets it for you. (Hehe he’s even gotten you a recepticle/container where you store all your other small gifts from him!

He would absolutely go to Comic Con-esque events and would do a couples cosplay with you if you asked him to and would totally do a professional-level photo shoot to capture your outfits. Aphelios might be cool as hell but this man is a NERD too (hell yeah). Absolutely loves watching an anime/show with you (he won’t even watch ahead because it’s not the same when he’s not watching with you) and gaming with you. He will also gladly game while you’re settled on his lap or whatever.

When he’s tired he’s extremely needy for physical affection. Like if you’re relaxing on the couch, he’ll come over and either lay/sit on you (congrats on your Aphelios model weighted blanket btw. A true one-of-a-kind model) as his way of demanding cuddles. And he’s not subtle about asking for affection either. Alune absolutely has a video of a very tired Phel, who is nuzzled against your neck, taking your hand and placing on his own head to signal he’d like his hair played with (he may or may not have also softly whined).

Ezreal

Ezreal is the king of coordinating outfits with you! And it doesn’t even have to be super overt, like not necessarily wearing the same things as each other. Think more like corresponding colors in your outfits, similar patterns, matching accessories, things that still show off your personal styles, but at the same time, show that you two are a pair. He just really loves to do that. (Also it makes for some extremely cute photos together.)

MUSEUM. DATES. Ez is such a history nerd and it’s so fun to watch his unbridled excitement when you’re visiting museums with him. If it’s a topic he knows a lot about, Ezreal’s going to discuss it with you further in-depth. When he’s traveling he’s even more excited because NEW MUSEUMS OMG. If you’re not with him, he’ll tell you about all the things he saw. (People might think him a bit of an airhead, but nah. Ez is wicked smart for sure.) And he’ll always buy you something cute from the gift shop to memorialize the visit.

The two of you have just the cutest dates in general (even beyond museums). We’re talking amusement parks, arcades, fruit orchards in summer/fall, bowling alleys, etc. All the other super fun shit that you can think of, he plans. Ez just has such fun and bright energy (Hey that’s one of the reasons you fell in love with him!) And he puts so much thought into planning dates for you! As suave as he tries to be, Ezreal still even gets a little nervous before every date just because he really wants you to have a good time. (He’s got those perpetual butterflies for you, fr!)

Kayn

Kayn is a big back hug man. Like it’s his favorite way to hug you and he will do so whenever he has the chance. If you’re hand-washing dishes? Boom, you now have arms around your waist, a chin on your shoulder, and a low voice asking if you want help. Whenever Kayn’s stressed he clings to you from behind and nuzzles your neck and just stays there for a while, blocking out all the bullshit. (Whenever he hugs you from behind he loves when you reach back and play with his hair.)

Whenever he has to leave you for any extended period of time, Kayn always makes sure to bring a clothing item of yours with him. You calm him down the fastest, so when you’re not physically around he wants a piece of you with him to keep himself grounded. Before he leaves, he’ll have you spray whichever item he’s taking with whatever scent you wear. (The opposite is true too btw. Kayn will make sure to leave your favorite hoodie of his with you, and he’ll spray his cologne on it, just so you can always have his comfort with you.

He secretly loves to do skincare nights with you. Listen, Kayn might be chaotic, but you know what isn’t? His skin. Flawless (fucking jealous). The first time you found out your boyfriend had a very rigorous skincare routine, you were shocked. But that shock quickly turned to glee when he asked if you wanted to watch an episode of a show while doing sheet masks with him. Kayn has the good shit too. And so that’s now become a tradition between the two of you. Twice a month you two have a night where you just do masks and serums and all the extra bells and whistles, chatting and watching media while you do. It’s great!

K’Sante

K’Sante loves to discuss art with you. His brain just seems like it would be really interesting to pick on the topic. Especially as someone who is involved in creative endeavors, and uses his sketch pad to design both clothes and other things (take the background effects in the “Paranoia” MV which I believe were designed by him in lore), K’Sante has a deep understanding of artistic concepts (and he’s always happy to show them to you if you aren’t visually artistic). He has a growing art collection and especially loves commissioning local artists to make gifts for you!

K’Sante definitely has a “secret” folder on his drawing tablet dedicated to sketches of you. This folder has both designs he wants to make for you and just sketches of you because he loves to draw you. Often times when the two of you are just quietly spending time together, you’ll notice K’Sante drawing on his tablet, and while he does so, he keeps looking up at you before going back to sketching. Once he’s done with any sort of sketch, whether or not it involves you, he always asks for your thoughts!

K’Sante will absolutely cook for you whenever you ask him to (idc if Sett is the best cook in Heartsteel, you cannot convince me K’Sante can’t throw down in the kitchen almost as well). He absolutely loves to do so, finding it an excellent way to show his love for you. He quickly learns all your favorites so he can make them for you when you need a pick-me-up. And when you let out a happy sigh after the first bite of a meal he makes? It’s lowkey the best reward he could ask for. That wordless praise makes him so happy.

Sett

An odd one, but Sett totally reads romance novels/watches rom coms (though you’re like the only person that knows). If you also enjoy rom coms, then trust that watching a rom com is a very common date night activity for you two. And it’s super fun and sweet to just cuddle with him and watch these cheesy movies (occasionally you just get so comfy cuddling with him you fall asleep before the end of the movie and Sett finds it adorable).

You’re Sett’s guinea pig for new knitting patterns. Whether it’s for a new style of hat he’s making, or if he wants to try a new type of yarn, it’ll always be used in a project for you. Even the experiments that aren’t so successful (which is very rare because he’s a GREAT knitter), you keep because Sett made them for you and that’s really sweet. You always feel how much love he put into each project.

Sett loves when you serve as his work out buddy. You know the cheesy thing where someone lies under a person doing push-ups so that each time the person doing the push up goes down, they get a kiss? He adores doing that with you. Same with sit ups. You waiting to give him a kiss really helps motivate him to do his sit ups properly. Even if you’re not much of a fitness buff, just having you there makes his workouts so much more enjoyable! And Sett’s such an incredible workout partner, always making sure you’re doing things safely and just being so encouraging to you!

Yone

Yone is a big fan of spa days with you. Do you see how stressed this man can get? First of all, the music industry can be BRUTAL. And secondly….his fellow band members are a little….chaotic sometimes. Any sort of relaxation he can get is well deserved. And it can be at an actual spa, but it doesn’t have to be. Yone loves doing at home facials, shower steamers, yoga, and anything else that can help him distress and unwind. And doing that sort of stuff with you makes it 100x more relaxing to him.

Yone is always doing something with his hands. You’ve often caught him tapping out rhythms on his leg with his fingers. Whenever he’s with you, well, you’re somehow involved in that fidgeting. He loves to gently play with your fingers/hands. And when Yone’s holding your hand, he always likes to rub his thumb along your knuckles or gently massage your hands when you’re stressed. He also likes to run his fingers through your hair (if you let him). He finds it soothing when you do it to him, so he wants to return the favor.

Yone has all of your orders/preferences memorized. (I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: The quiet ones are the most perceptive!!!!) Even before the two of you started dating and you were just friends Yone memorized your favorite restaurants so he could help brighten your day. Once the two of you get together that knowledge extends to more domestic things. Like what area of the closet you prefer to keep your pants on. how many blankets you like to sleep with, or which toothpaste or toiletries you like to use. He is just incredibly sweet and thoughtful when it comes to knowing exactly what you like.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed these fluffy thoughts! Things have been so chaotic lately and it was really lovely to get back into writing some more! 💙

[spatialwave]

I can’t stop thinking about Angus with a childhood best friend!reader. (I imagine she would go to a different private school so they could only see each other over the summer and talk through letters and calls)

oh my god this is soooo good! you, my dear anon, have a beautiful mind. 🤍

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰.

notes: angus tully x fem!reader || 3.1k words || dividers by @cafekitsune

you and angus had been best friends since kindergarten, inseparable through hundreds of playdates from the ages of five to fifteen. you two were attached to the hip and anyone could see the bond that blossomed between the two of you. he was everything to you and you were everything to him.

you remember the first day you met, early november and a chilly day on the playground. you were bundled up with a big coat and mittens while poking and prodding at some flowers that were slowly dying—signalling the freezing weather that would arrive at any moment.

"my mom told me those kinds of flowers are weeds." a voice spoke from beside you, a boy your age with wildly, curly hair and big brown eyes. he wasn't looking at you, but at the wilting flower.

"pretty weeds," you murmured as your gaze turned back to the same flower.

"yup," he replied, the two of you kneeling there in silence as the school bell rang. neither of you moved until one of the teachers found you both and ushered you inside—you sat next to each other for the rest of the year; the history of your friendship.

angus was there when you were twelve years old and experienced your first adolescent heartbreak. a boy one year older who had kissed you and told you he loved you; then kissed one of your other so-called friends the same day with the same words. back then it shattered your entire being and angus was there to help you pick up the pieces and put your poor little heart back together until it was beating again.

and whenever he was feeling sad, which happened a lot after his dad was put in a sanitarium, you were there at his house with some popcorn and ready to watch whatever movie would air that evening. sometimes you two would listen to a record and simply exist together—being near each other made him feel better.

hell, he was even there when you got your first period when you were visiting his family. you remember how both of you started screaming when you told him you were bleeding, crying as you convinced yourself you were dying until his mom came to the rescue. she had to explain biology more thoroughly than your health teacher did, which only embarrassed you and made angus start asking a flurry of questions about it. from then on, once a month, he'd be there with whatever you needed; junk food, chocolate, and a hot water bottle.

your lives were so intertwined that you knew every little detail about each other. well, mostly. there was one moment that you kept from him in the vastness of your relationship, how his first kiss made you boil with jealousy.

you pushed that feeling far away and focused on the positives of your friendship as years passed and life slowly felt more and more complicated.

it was in your freshman year of high school when he first started acting out, even when you offered all the support you could muster up. he was kicked out of your school at fifteen, then another in the same year. the following year he almost made it the entire schooling term before he was finally sent off to a private boarding school—completely uprooted from the friendship you two had together.

that was your first real heartbreak.

his too.

angus beat himself up about it during the sleepless nights at barton, devastated that he couldn't even see you on weekends like he used to. knowing that you were in your senior year and he was lagging behind as a junior because of his expulsions. there was a drift happening in your friendship and it was because of him. all because he couldn't keep his emotions in check.

you couldn't blame him and you wouldn't, you made that apparent with the letters you sent him. making sure he never once felt alone in his struggles.

"𝙷𝚒 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜,

𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢. 𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚝? 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚗, 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚖𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝙲+. 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝, 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢?

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚈/𝙽."

it was these letters that kept him afloat during those days in the week that made him want to give up and run away, or worse, get expelled and sent to fork union. he kept every single letter from you and hid them underneath his mattress. if kountze were to see them that would be the end of it, so he made sure to read them only when everyone was asleep—he always had the best dreams after.

"𝙷𝚒, 𝚈/𝙽,

𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙. 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝙺, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚜. 𝙼𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚖 ��𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜. 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜."

hearing from him always made your stomach flutter and left your heart aching deeply for him. it was melancholic, wishing more than he could be back by your side while trying to be content with a letter from your love... your love?

those feelings had been building up inside you for months—years.

it left you awake at night, wondering if angus felt the same or if you would remain nothing more than friends for the rest of your life. you couldn't be upset with the latter, angus was your best friend and you would never let yourself lose that.

yet, you yearned for him. for the possibility of something more. you dreamt of what it would be like to kiss him, but those thoughts diminished quickly because you felt guilty. you shouldn't have those feelings for a boy who's only your best friend.

a few weeks had passed and you hadn't written a letter back because school was hectic and the gloominess of winter had left you with little energy. you and angus could sometimes go weeks without hearing from each other, but it was never intentional. it wasn't until your first night home during the christmas holidays that you realized you'd never written him back. you had only started scribbling a letter when the phone rang.

"it's angus!" your mother called from the kitchen on the first floor. that's when you remembered the promise he made in your letters. he'd be visiting soon!

"coming!" you called back as you rushed down the stairs so fast your mother had chastised you for nearly running your little brother over. you pressed the phone against your ear, lips curved into a big smile as you caught your breath, "angus, when are yo—"

"i won't be visiting," his voice said quietly, a bit crackly through the phone and deeper than you remembered it being when you last spoke. your brows furrowed together at his words and you were filled with nothing short of confusion and disappointment, hand clutching tight the phone in your hand as your other absently fidgeted with the cord.

"what do you mean? you promised me you would, angus." you said to him, your voice sharper than you meant for it to sound, "is saint kitts really that much more important?"

silence.

"my mom and stanley are going without me," he replied and it was then you could hear in his voice that he was fighting back tears. his heart was broken and you weren't there to pick up the pieces. you filled with dread and guilt for your snappy words, feeling the aching of his heart in your own.

"what?" you questioned, leaning back against the wall and tilting your head up, eyes fixating on the ceiling where you could see a water spot forming from the old piping in your home.

"yeah, they decided now was the fucking time to take their honeymoon. can you believe that? they ditched me and went to saint kitts without me and left me at barton," he said, his voice growing angrier with each passing second, "the worst part is that i didn't care about saint kitts, i just needed to see you," his voice cracked again.

tears pricked at your eyes and your mom, who had been eavesdropping, had decided to let you have privacy in the kitchen as she escorted your brother to the playroom. you sniffled and wiped away the tears with the sleeve of your sweater, shaking your head in disbelief.

"i miss you so much, angus, it physically hurts," you whimpered into the phone and it was then you couldn't help but start crying. the sounds made his heart ache.

"i know, i'm so sorry."

the two of you were only on the phone for a few more minutes because angus had heard one of the other holdovers coming down the hall. you didn't question it, a school full of boys meant that crying around others was asking for a death wish.

when all you could was hear the dial tone, a quiet 'i love you' escaped your lips.

pathetic.

four days passed and tomorrow was christmas eve; you'd never felt so empty in your entire life. you hadn't heard from angus since your last phone call and it was like all joy and happiness had been sucked out of your soul. your mother, who often liked to call you dramatic, didn't dare say a peep.

you had been laying in bed all morning, doing nothing except falling back asleep or staring out your bedroom window and watching a soft flurry of snow falling. you promised yourself to write angus a letter today, but you weren't entirely sure that you would be able to without breaking down and sobbing. your eyes were already puffy from crying yourself to sleep, you couldn't risk them hurting anymore.

"sweetie?" the voice came with a knock on your door. your mother, her voice as sweet as cinnamon. you didn't answer as the door creaked open.

"i'd like for you to come for a drive with me, if that's alright."

"no."

"i'm not leaving until you come with me."

"fine."

you were bundled up in a big coat as you sat in the passenger seat of your mother's station wagon, your forehead pressed against the window as you watched the snowfall. you hadn't really been paying much attention to where you two were going or how long you'd been driving, figuring that sooner or later your mother would pipe up and ask about you. this was always her way of understanding your emotions, it always worked. you always managed to spill your guts to her while in the passenger seat.

"do you love him?" she asked quietly, her eyes flickering toward you.

"what?" you became defensive, sitting upright and glaring daggers at her, "no. i mean yeah. of course i love him he's my best friend. just... nothing more. nothing like that!"

"so you do." she smiled, admiring you as she focused her attention back ahead, fingers gently tapping against the steering wheel as she hummed softly, "i'm taking you to barton."

"what?!" you screeched, your heart pounding hard in your chest, "you're telling me that now? you should've let me get ready! god, he's going to think i'm a mess!" you grumbled as you pulled down the visor and looked into the mirror, trying desperately to make your hair behave and wipe away the tiredness from your eyes.

"he's not going to care what you look like, darling." your mother said with a sigh.

"okay, well i care what i look like!"

"stop being so dramatic."

—

on the way to barton, your mother told you what she had planned behind your back, she called the school and managed to speak with a lady named miss lamb and explained the situation. according to your mother she sounded very excited that you would be visiting angus—it was likely that he was being just as pouty and sad as you were, if not more.

it made you wonder how lonely he'd been. should you have called more?

your hands were shaking as you pulled up to the school, your entire body nearly vibrating as you stepped out of the car and did one more fix on your hair. you were excited to see him, but why were you nervous? you had never been nervous about seeing him, why was this different?

an older woman who you could only presume was miss lamb greeted you at the main entrance, ushering you in quickly. you sighed softly when the cold air was no longer nipping at your skin, but instead, you were filled with that familiar feeling of nervousness once again.

"i think angus is up in one of the classrooms right now. he's been hiding himself away since he's been here with just me and mr. hunham. the poor boy got left behind here while the other boys were able to go spend the holidays at a ski hill," she said, glancing at you a few times as you followed her, fidgeting with your hands nervously. you hadn't realized until now that your mother had stayed in the foyer. miss lamb spoke up again, disturbing your thoughts, "he mentioned you the other day at dinner. was complaining to us about his situation and how he was supposed to visit his best friend... you know, i expected you to be a boy."

"yeah," you murmur as you ascend a staircase, "people always say that. a girl and a boy could never be just friends."

"mhm, it's hard for people to think that when they know what young love looks like," she hummed, avoiding your piercing gaze as she led you through the halls, "angus!" she called out as you two reached a hallway on the second floor, "where are you?"

"what do you need, mary?" his voice echoed from the last classroom on the right, his voice whiny and pouty.

you hadn’t moved so fast in your life. your legs picked up speed and mary turned the other way, satisfied with what she'd seen so far. she wasn't going to impose on a special moment. this was the happiest she'd felt in a long time, too.

"angus!" you called out as you sprinted ahead, nearly missing the door as you made a full stop under the door frame. you watched him as he turned his gaze, eyes moving from the window he'd been peering out of and over at you. you were blessed with the sight of seeing his big brown eyes soften and how a weight eased on his shoulders. he was gorgeous, the most beautiful man in the world and you weren’t going to leave barton until he knew that.

"what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, blinking a few times, as though he was hallucinating and afraid you weren't real, "christ–get over here."

he met you halfway as you bolted toward him, arms outstretched and wrapping around his waist as you buried your face into his chest. “i missed you so fucking much,” you whimpered, fingers tightening into fists as they gripped the back of his jacket. he smelled nice, like the cheap cologne you bought him last christmas; musk, cedar & notes of vanilla.

his own arms were around your shoulders, his face nuzzling against the top of your head as you two relished in each other’s presence.

it had been months. months that felt like a millennium.

“i missed you too,” he whispered against your hair, arms tightening around you briefly before easing up, “you look so pretty.”

you tilted your head back to look at him, your eyes glossy from the tears that spilled down your cheeks. you had parted your lips to say something back as your cheeks reddened from his compliment, but he didn’t give you the chance—rightly shutting you up with his lips.

it was then you fully understood how much you loved angus tully, less as a friend and more as a partner. a soulmate.

your lips moved together in desperation and need, kissing each other like you were lovers that had been separated for years. one of his hands had moved up to the back of your hair, fingers tangling, while the other gripped at your hip. both of your arms snaked around he neck, pulling him down so you didn’t have to stand on the tips of your toes to meet his lips.

this lasted for awhile, stopping only when you two had ran out of breath and were panting together.

“i love you,” you said first, your forehead pressing against angus’ as you looked deep into his brown eyes, “i’ve loved you for a very long time... too long.”

“me too,” he murmured in returned, the hand that was on your hip now caressing your cheek, his thumb gently grazing over your soft skin, “you’re the only reason it’s lonely here. seriously, i think i’m going mad without you,” he laughed breathily, bumping his nose playfully against yours.

“then i’ll make sure you don’t have to go without me too long,” your voice was soft as you spoke, unable to rid yourself of the big smile that plastered your lips, “maybe we can convince your teacher to let me stay for a night… or maybe you can spend christmas with us.”

“i want to go to boston with you,” he said quick, like he’d been waiting to say it.

you knew exactly what he meant. you knew everything about boston—you knew who was waiting in boston.

“okay,” you murmured, “let’s go to boston.”

you couldn’t promise that it would actually happen, how on earth would a chaperone let their student travel miles away to a city without them? you didn’t care about that right now. all you cared about was making sure that angus knew he had your support. that’s how being best friends worked.

you were there for each other. you were always going to help pick up each other’s pieces.

“kiss me again, angus.”

[futurecorps3]

imagine no war!!! remus after hogwarts decides to go to university, meets a muggle and falls head over heels but doesn't think he's good enough for her (w his condition on top of being a wizard and poor) but he brings her to meet the marauders anyway because they keep asking to meet the person he won't shut up about, maybe harry's birthday or just a pub outing or whatever??? he's nervous she'll fancy sirius but it's quite clear to everyone the second they meet that she clearly only has heart eyes for remus and the gang are like are you insane she's CLEARLY smitten with you and it literally takes everyone he knows to point it out for him to think he might even have a chance but is still floored when she's like "remus, i adore you, i've adored you from the moment we met" bc goddammit he deserves to be loved like that!!!

𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: The request sums it up, read it hoe Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader Warnings: Alcohol consumption and that's all I can think abt hehe Word Count: 4.5K (i'm sorry) Requested: Yes

A/N: I'm absolutely sobbing. This is so cute!!! I'm using the Reggie was a spy for the order wild card and roll with that. Tysm for this awesome idea, nonnie! And sorry it took so long.

Remus knew magic existed, the type of magic that opens doors, gives you luck or disarms someone. But until he met her, he didn't know there was a type of magic that could be contained in someone's eyes, someone's smile, or even in that little quirk she had of squinting every time she focused.

Y/N Y/L/N. Even her name felt like the sweetest honey when it rolled off your tongue and into the air, he figured. She was a new kind of magic and Remus was hooked from the get go. They had met on a rather peculiar set of circumstances. When Moony first got to college, he had no friends or anyone nearby to help him cope with the abrupt transition. The boys visited as much as they could, but it'd be for about an hour or two before they had to go back to the ministry.

So, as he did when he arrived at Hogwarts, Remus found solace in reading and taking his wolfsbane at appropriate times. He was doing a classics mayor and reading the Plato classics was a convenient way to kill time while doing something productive. The boy spent hours in the library, sitting on the couches or getting some annotations done on the desks; he'd be done with the school's classics collection before the semester was over if he kept that pace.

He would have if he hadn't found those notes. Remus first noticed them in a worn copy of a compilation from a specific period of Plato's scripts, the third page in Philebus. "Socrates is being very reductive. I don't like it. Out of character, I do declare" written in red ink, cursive letters delicate in the ripped white paper.

He giggled at that, his thoughts exactly. Moony picked the piece of paper and examined it to see if it had any indications of who might've written it, but he found nothing. He only knew that the person who wrote it had a ruined red pen; the stains of ink sitting messily on the opposite side of the annotation. Remus was a sucker for mystery stories and he viewed this as an opportunity of having one of his own!

A short-lived one, since he cracked the case when a pretty girl on his history of philosophy class asked around for a red pen. Remus frantically but quietly rummaged through his satchel and found one just in time.

He rushed to her, offering it out “Here” he smiled, looking down at her as she looked up at him. “Thanks… Remus isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. Y/N Y/L/N”. Y/N introduced herself, offering her hand out. Stained in red. The boy stared shocked at the realization this was the person he’d been looking for.

“Oh shit m’sorry, it looks like I committed a murder or something. My pen started leaking yesterday while I was studying in the library” She laughed and Remus swore he’d faint if he hadn’t gripped her hand. “Actually…” Remus started, searching in his pocket for the piece of paper he kept, when he finally found it, he showed it to her and a smile broke on those pretty lips.

“…I hope you don’t mind! I-I kept it. Been looking for you, it made me laugh” He admitted, handing it to her “You found me then! And, you’re very much welcome to keep it, Remus” Y/N grinned and Remus mirrored her expression sweetly. They met for coffee the next day. The day after that, they studied together. And the week after, they shared lunch.

About two months after they talked for the first time, they had gone on a date every single week. From museum outings to walks around campus if one of them didn't have much time. They also sat together in philosophy and, turns out, literature (which they realized they shared after).

Y/N gifted him a cool rock once, and he kissed her.

He kept the rock in his pocket ever since.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Come on, mate, you gotta tell us who she is!" James exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he repeatedly patted the worn wooden bar in the cozy pub they had agreed to meet at. Remus chuckled and shook his head, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he took another sip of his whiskey.

"You've been talking non-stop about her since you two met! The last three times we've seen each other, it's been Y/N this, Y/N that. We've gotta meet the missus," Sirius playfully teased, giving Remus a light shove with his shoulder.

Rolling his eyes playfully, Remus glanced at his friends, grateful for their persistent curiosity but also hesitant to share too much. "Oh, Pads, don't call her that! We're not even official yet, and I doubt we'll ever be. She'll find someone, alright, but I'm just good old Remus," he replied, a hint of wistfulness shadowing his gaze.

It was true; good old Remus had learned how to stop caring about what other people thought of him, but that didn't mean he was entirely confident about who he was.

Navigating the Muggle world presented its own set of challenges for Remus. He knew that at some point, he would have to confront the whole "Hey, I'm a wizard, and there's this whole other world you don't know about, hope you don't mind!" situation with Y/N.

Then there were the lingering money issues that weighed on his mind. College was not cheap, but he had managed to secure a decent scholarship, which alleviated some of the burden. He hoped Y/N wouldn't care about his financial situation. And, of course, there was the delicate matter of revealing his true nature as a literal werewolf. How would she react when she found out?

Yeah.

He was good old Remus: poor Remus, monster Remus, scarred Remus, wizard Remus. If he were honest with himself, he was surprised they had made it past the first day, considering he had stupidly worn a short-sleeved t-shirt without anything to conceal the telltale signs of his condition.

But she noticed the perceptive and kind-hearted soul that she was, and she chose not to mention it. In that moment, Remus couldn't help but imagine the possibilities, but he also knew that reality had a way of reminding him of his limitations. Moony knew he would never be able to claim her as his own. Not in this lifetime, not in the next.

For now, he chose to cherish the moments they shared, basking in her laughter and marveling at the way her hair defied gravity with its radiant beauty. She was his bit of magic in a world that often seemed devoid of it. Deep down, however, he couldn't shake the nagging certainty that good things didn't last for boys like him—boys with tragedy coursing through their veins.

"Yeah, no. We're not doing this shit again," Sirius declared, shaking his head in disagreement. Remus's best friends had grown accustomed to his self-deprecating tendencies and were determined to lift his spirits. Remus might have been a mysterious figure to some, but to the Marauders, he was an open book, their brother.

"That's why she likes you, mate. You're good old amazing, lovely, smart, hot Remus!" James proclaimed with a boisterous cheer, pulling Remus into a tight embrace. "Tell you what, bring her to Harry's birthday party this weekend! I'm sure Lily won't mind," he suggested, his mischievous grin widening. Sirius enthusiastically chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Just ask her first and let me know, okay? I don't want Harry to have a bad time becaus-"

"Oh, Moons, the party is more for us than for him! He'll be out like a light by eight, and we'll get wasted like we always do," Prongs interjected, his infectious laughter filling the air, causing Remus to join in, his worries momentarily forgotten in the camaraderie of his friends.

There was no way out of this one, not that he sought an escape. Remus couldn't blame his best friends for their eagerness to meet Y/N. They knew him better than anyone, and they could see the spark of happiness she had ignited within him. Moony did little to hide his excitement, his heart fluttering with the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

Now, he just needed Lily's approval so he could gather the courage to ask the girl who had captivated his heart to accompany him to the birthday celebration—a step that held the promise of a new chapter in his life, one filled with both joy and uncertainty

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Remus nervously fiddled with the corner of his book, stealing glances at Y/N across the library. The soft rays of afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm, golden glow on the rows of ancient tomes and the elegant wooden shelves that lined the room. But in that moment, all Remus could see was Y/N, a radiant presence amidst the tranquil surroundings.

Summoning his courage, Remus took a deep breath and approached her table. The scent of old parchment mingled with the delicate fragrance of her perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that filled his senses. As he neared, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity as she immersed herself in the world of words. Her hair cascaded down in gentle waves, its hue reminiscent of auburn leaves in autumn, and he found himself captivated by the way it framed her face, enhancing her natural beauty.

"Hey, love," Remus greeted her with a warm smile, trying his best to appear at ease. "Mind if I join you for a moment?"

Y/N looked up, a surprised yet welcoming expression crossing her features. Her eyes met Remus's, and a playful glimmer danced within their depths. She gestured to the seat across from her, her voice laced with gentle humor. "Well, if you insist. But only if you promise not to distract me from my riveting studies."

Remus chuckled, grateful for her light-hearted response. He took the offered seat, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I'll do my best to behave, I promise," he replied, a twinkle in his own eyes. "But I do have something on my mind that I wanted to ask you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. Her curiosity piqued. "Oh, really? Well, go on then. I'm all ears."

"There's a little someone's birthday coming up this weekend," Remus began, his voice filled with playful anticipation. "Harry, James' adorable son, is turning two years old. And, well, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the party."

Y/N's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight, her smile contagious. "Are you asking me to crash a toddler's birthday party? That sounds like a dangerous proposition," she teased, her tone lighthearted.

Remus laughed, his nerves easing with every moment of their easy banter. "Well, I can promise you that the party will be more entertaining than dangerous," he quipped, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "There'll be cake, balloons, and probably a fair amount of chaos. It's a chance to embrace your inner child if you want to look at it that way."

Y/N pretended to consider it, her finger tapping against her chin. "Hmm, cake, balloons, and chaos? You make a compelling case," she replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "How can I resist? Count me in, darling. I'd love to celebrate with you and your mates."

Remus couldn't contain his happiness, his relief flooding through him like a warm wave. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, a genuine excitement coloring his voice. "I can't wait for you to meet everyone, t-they insisted I brought the girl I don't shut up about to the party"

Y/N smiled at that, holding Remus's hand over the table. "So you've talked to your friends about me?" "Oh shut it" He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Right before those grey clouds of self deprecation repeating "this won't last" and "enjoy it before she realizes what you truly are" clouded his mind.

He shoved the thoughts away, holding to Y/N's smile against his lips as if it was an anchor saving him from drowning.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.

He really did try to plan it all neatly. From what he'd wear to how he'd introduced her to his friends. Remus even asked them to keep the magic discreet since it was all too soon for that conversation, but for fuck's sake; it all got thrown out the window when he saw her in low waisted flared pants and his Bowie shirt. "H-hey!" He smiled, almost yelling, but she just laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Hi Rem," she sighed, leaving a kiss on the corner of his lips which she left lingering a bit too long. "Ready?" "As I'll ever be!". As Y/N and Remus walked hand in hand, the excitement in the air was palpable. However, beneath her playful demeanor, Y/N couldn't shake the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. Meeting Remus's best friends felt like stepping into a new world, and the fear of not fitting in or being accepted gnawed at her.

She stole a quick glance at Remus, hoping he wouldn't notice the physical manifestations of her anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to burden him with her own inner turmoil. But even as she tried to compose herself, her voice wavered slightly as she spoke.

"Remus, I can't deny that I'm feeling a bit... off," she admitted, her words stumbling over her nervousness. "My heart feels like it's racing a marathon, and there's this knot in my stomach that just won't loosen. I hope it's not too obvious." Remus turned his head towards her, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding.

"Hey, I get it," he said, his tone comforting. "Meeting new people can be nerve-wracking, and our bodies have interesting ways of letting us know. But you know what? You're doing great, sweetheart, and I'm here with you. We'll take it one step at a time, and I promise we'll have a good time together. So, let's embrace the adventure, nerves and all, and see what the night has in store for us, okay?"

Y/N nodded thankfully, the knot loosening up a little. “Thanks baby”. The world stopped in Remus’ perspective at the pet name but he just nodded and kissed her cheek. He helped. He was a warm blanket after a long day even when moments like those weren’t happening. Comfort.

They eventually got to James’ place; the loud music coming from the two floor house making Y/N feel even more at ease. It radiated a warm, welcoming energy even before stepping in. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Deep breath”. They both took a breath before approaching the door and knocking, the wine Remus’ plus one brought close to breaking with the force she was holding it with. A bright smile opened the door, hugging Remus immediately. “You have no idea how happy I am you’re here Moony”.

Y/N smiled sweetly at the nickname the boy had for his best mate. She didn’t know where it came from but James seemed to be the sun reflecting on the moon. On Moony. The girl knew Remus’ light was enough to outshine the sun itself, but the comparison seemed cute.

“You must be Y/N! He can’t shut up about you. Can I hug you? It’s okay if not, Sirius says I need to ask before hugging people but I just love it so much I cannot help myself” He rambled, making her giggle as she uttered a small ‘It’s okay’ and hugged the boy. She noticed Remus staring and just winked at him. “Is that cake I smell?” Y/N grinned, peeking inside before James stepped aside to let them both in.

“Yes, come inside! My wife, Lily, has just finished baking her chocolate cake recipe. It’s bloody brilliant! Harry’s favorite in his short lived culinary experience. You gotta meet him too!” Moony stayed behind, cherishing the way James’ warm welcome made Y/N feel a little more comfortable; her shoulders relaxed as well as her grip on the wine bottle.

He stepped in, hanging his coat on the rack he helped Lily choose when his best friends bought the house. Rapid steps came running down the stairs, and before he turned around, the smell of cigarettes and leather filled his nostrils. “Hello Pads” he smirked, hugging his friend tightly.

“Hey Moons! Did the missus come?” “Yes, she’s outside with James and Lily-“. He was cut short when his best friend, (his eyeliner wearing, muscled, rocker, tattooed, charming best friend) ran all the way into the garden to greet the girl. He was head over heels over.

A new feeling settled into his chest. An unpleasant one. Sirius was a dream. Remus was just good old Remus. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He sighed heavily, ran a hand through his hair, and then covered his mouth. Y/N was not one to be too forward, but the way Sirius looked and acted could easily make her reconsider.

It got worse when he heard her loud laugh coming from the garden, followed by a chuckle that unmistakably came from Sirius. His best friend would never do it on purpose, but then again, his charm was never used on purpose. It just sort of happened. Remus sighed and walked outside to find the girl saying hi to Harry.

The toddler had his tiny hand wrapped around the girl's fingers, babbling incoherencies, as Y/N had a full conversation with him. "Are you sure?" she asked and Harry answered nonsense as the girl nodded back. She looked up at Remus coming through the sliding door. "Remus, he's the cutest thing I've ever seen!".

He laughed and walked over to her. The girl immediately wrapped her hands around his arm and hugged him tightly. James winked at Moony and went inside as the conversation ensued, Sirius teasing Remus about the girl he "brought home".

Soon, Y/N was well adapted to their friend's sense of humour and was joking around with Lily about how dumb they could all be. Despite Y/N's worries, it all went by smoothly. The one he got along with the most was James; he loved asking questions, and she loved answering them.

Remus had always loved her laugh; Seeing his best friends being the cause of it made it even better. "I'm telling you, he's insane!" Sirius laughed, bouncing his leg up and down as Harry sat on his lap giggling. "He's an absolute sweetheart" Y/N answered, kissing Remus' cheek as his best friends tried putting dirt (rightfully deserved dirt) on his name.

"Wait until you know him just a tiny bit better. You'll get to see his menacing self... got us in a shit ton of trouble back in school" James chuckled, making Remus roll his eyes and trying to divert her attention by asking if she wanted a bit more cake.

During their evening, Y/N kept a tight grasp on Remus’ hand while smiling at his friend’s jokes. When it was his turn to laugh, Sirius noticed how the girl looked intently over at Remus with a grin on her face. His eyes looked gorgeous in the sun with those little wrinkles when he giggled, she thought.

In that moment, she realized she wanted Remus to say her name as you’re supposed to say it; sleepily, with a mouth full of food, between laughters and in tears. Y/N saw the specks of brown in the amber colored lake that his eyes were and fell completely. Sirius saw it, James saw it, Lily saw it.

Even more when he turned to look down at her and wipe a bit of chocolate off her cheek, and she kept that look of utter adoration for him. “He’s gone” Lily mumbled to her husband. “She’s too” he agreed. Sirius smirked, getting up to get Harry to bed as he fell asleep on his uncle’s arms as the sun set.

James and Sirius were at the center of attention, regaling the group with a hilarious story from their time at school. Their voices were animated, and they gesticulated with enthusiasm, drawing everyone into their tale. Remus stood nearby, a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment evident on his face.

"And then, there was this one time at Hogwarts," James began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "when we decided to prank the entire Slytherin common room! We turned all their robes into neon pink ones!"

Sirius chimed in, laughter bubbling in his voice. "Oh, it was epic! They all looked like walking flamingos! The look on their faces was priceless!"

Y/N was thoroughly entertained by the story, but she couldn't help but notice Remus's subtle blush. She leaned closer to him and whispered teasingly, "Remus, were you part of this grand pink robe conspiracy too?"

Remus grinned, shaking his head. "I plead the fifth," he replied, trying to hide his amusement. "Let's just say those were wild times, and I may or may not have been an innocent bystander."

Y/N laughed, enjoying the playful banter. She was captivated by the camaraderie and genuine friendship between the group. As the evening continued, she found herself drawn into more anecdotes and laughter, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance in their company.

Remus's friends made her feel welcome and included, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for being a part of this close-knit circle, even if she didn't know the full extent of their world. The nerves that had accompanied her earlier had transformed into excitement and a genuine desire to create new memories with Remus and his friends.

The feeling was reciprocated. Remus felt, and not on mere theory; the moment Y/N excused herself to go to the bathroom, his best friends started gushing to him about the girl. "Moony, she's in love" Sirius said between incredulous and joyous laugh "Oh Pad-" "Mate, I'm telling you... she looks at you like you hung the bloody stars!" now said James, Lily nodding pridefully "She looks at you just how James looked at me back in the day".

And Merlin did he want to believe them! He truly, really did. But instead, there was this empty feeling on his chest. There was no way Y/N Y/L/N looked at him in the way James looked at Lily; Almost scared of the joy she brought to him, like that pain in his heart would end up killing him and he'd quite literally die a happy man. So, when Remus dropped her off at her flat and turned his head before she'd kiss him on the mouth, the void went deeper.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Y/N couldn't sleep that night. Her mind was restless, thoughts of Remus swirling in her head like a tempest. She tossed and turned, replaying the events of the evening over and over again, each memory etching itself into her heart. There was no denying it anymore; she was utterly and completely in love with him.

The realization hit her like a wave crashing onto the shore, powerful and unstoppable; she was head over heels for Remus Lupin.

The next day, Y/N couldn't concentrate on anything. Her mind kept drifting back to Remus, like she'd could easily find herself absentmindedly doodling hearts and his name on the margins of her notebook. She needed to tell him; she couldn't keep this to herself any longer.

In the late afternoon, she gathered her courage and dialed his number, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, his warm voice on the other end sent shivers down her spine.

"Hey, Remus," she began, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil inside her. "I was wondering if we could meet up later? There's something I want to talk to you about." Remus's response was filled with concern. "Of course, love. Is everything alright?" "Yes, everything's fine," she reassured him. "I just... I have something to tell you, something important."

He agreed to meet at their favorite cafe later that evening, and Y/N's heart fluttered with nervous excitement. The minutes leading up to their meeting felt like an eternity, but finally, the time came. When they sat down together, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Remus looked at her with those caring, gentle eyes, and she felt a rush of emotions wash over her.

"Remus," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't even know where to start. Y-you've brought so much magic into my life. From the moment we met, I felt something special, something I couldn't quite put into words."

He listened intently, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I've never felt this way before," she continued, her cheeks flushing with emotion. "You're like a beautiful enigma, a captivating mystery that I can't get enough of. You make me laugh, you make me feel safe and cherished, and every moment with you is a treasure. You've shown me a kind of magic that I never knew existed, a magic that exists in the little things, the stolen glances, the shared laughter, and the way you hold my hand. It's like you've cast a spell on me, and I never want it to end."

Remus's eyes softened, and a tender smile graced his lips. "Y/N, you're the most incredible person I've ever met," he replied, his voice filled with emotion. "From the moment I saw your ink-stained hands, I knew you were something special. You've brought light into my life, and I can't believe that someone as amazing as you could feel this way about me."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his, their fingers interlocking like two puzzle pieces, finding their perfect fit.

"I'm not good with grand gestures or flowery words," he said, his voice a whisper. "But I can tell you this: I care about you deeply, more than I ever thought possible. You make me happy like I never imagined I'd could feel. I've fallen in love with you, Y/N, and I can't believe my luck."

Y/N's heart soared, tiny tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "Oh, Remus," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so in love with you too. You've shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, a love that feels like coming home. I cherish every moment with you, and I want to share my time with you, if you'll have me."

Without hesitation, Remus leaned across the table, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her lips. It was a kiss filled with love and promise, sealing their feelings and intentions.

"I'd be honored to have you in my life, Y/N," he whispered against her lips. "You're my bit of magic in a world that can be harsh and uncertain, and I never want to let you go."

And so, in that cozy cafe, two souls found solace in each other's love. The world around them faded into the background as they basked in the enchantment of their newfound love, knowing that this kind of magic was unlike any other they had ever known. They had found something truly extraordinary in each other, a love that would stand the test of time and shine brighter than any star in the night sky.

˚ · • . ° .

It’s currently 12am and my brain isn’t working so i’ll just post this and place the word count in the morning.

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[intothedysphoria]

He practically lived in the laundromat.

Steve saw him frequently. Not in like a creepy way. In a sad and lonely way. Because that’s what Steve was. Sad and lonely.

He wore denim and leather and drove an electric blue Camaro and an ornate cross hung from his neck and he was very obviously gay.

The surname was something Steve couldn’t pronounce. Irish. Not anglicised. It had used to be Hargrove apparently. It wasn’t anymore.

The first name was so ordinary though. William. Billy.

Steve sometimes said hello to him, in between watching Rick and Morty on Netflix. Billy would say hello back. Fairly uninterested but polite.

The conversations were usually limited to complaining about professors or the industrial washing machines.

“Alright man?”

“Yeah I’m ok. That new history assignment is a bitch to complete.”

“Damn. See you in next weeks seminar.”

If Steve had half the balls he had in high school, he’d ask him out for a drink. Beer, coffee, hot chocolate. Anything really.

Instead, he gave an awkward thumbs up as that perfectly tanned back walked into the distance.

The next time they met, Billy’s bag split.

There was a significant hole, books struggling to escape as Billy stood, looking crestfallen. And Steve had an idea.

“I could fix it for you. If you want.”

The look on Billy’s face said that Steve could have personally hung each and every star.

The benefits of being a drag queen.

It wasn’t a hard fix at the end of the day but it really was a charming satchel. Pins of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Pokémon sat proudly at the top. He really was a fucking nerd.

Billy hugged him when Steve handed the bag back. It felt soft and warm and genuinely affectionate. None of those things were about to be complained about.

He turned up at Steve’s next drag show. A gay bar Billy never frequented. He was usually at the one which was full to the brim of guys who really liked leather. Not Steve’s one with its terrible 80s night and constant inter club bickering.

Billy told him he liked the show afterwards. The one where Steve had done a cheer routine to Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. He’d make sure to visit again with what Steve thought might have been a wink.

Maybe. He wasn’t 100 sure. Maybe he just had a severe squint.

Billy would now come to sit right next to Steve in seminars. Notebook filled with calligraphy and tiny doodles. Steve’s hopelessly dyslexic handwriting felt exceedingly ugly in comparison. Billy just told him it was unique.

That was one way of putting it. Billy was very kind. And probably went after guys like McKinney or Munson or Tommy. Not Steve.

It didn’t stop Steve from giggling like a schoolgirl whenever Billy gave him a compliment. Which hopefully Billy had chosen to ignore.

Robin set him up on a date after Steve came over with an entire pint of strawberry milkshake and cried on her sofa. Given the amount of time Steve had been on testosterone, he could not just blame it on his period. His period had ended for good like last year.

Jonathan was funny. He was a bit of a nerd, loved old horror films and in any other circumstance, Steve would be enamoured. This was not any other circumstance.

Not when Steve was thinking about Billy being on a date with any other guy. Someone who wasn’t him.

Steve ditched the date halfway through then spent the rest of the evening thinking about how he was a horrible person. Surprisingly, that didn’t help his situation.

Billy asked if he was ok. Of course Steve was ok. Why wouldn’t he be. Nothing wrong here.

Carol asked if he wanted a live laugh love mug and a pink sweater. Steve took the hint.

Telling Billy in theory was easy. Telling Billy in practice was fairly difficult.

He told Billy in the laundromat. Painfully unromantic. Just asked him out for drinks. But Billy was grinning like a six year old.

“Sure. It’s a date.”

Was Billy bouncing on his feet?

When Billy immediately started signing off their texts with hearts and kisses, Steve thought it was.

It is pretty much my two year fandom anniversary give or take a few days and this fic is for @shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 @thatgirlwithasquid @oopsiedaisiesbaby @robthegoodfellow @bigdumbbambieyes @thissortofsorcery and @harringroveobsessed for putting up with the incessant messaging and asks and random brainworms I get at like 5AM

[qtkat]

being childhood friends with the main four would include..

gender: female (she/her)

warnings: none, other than it’s south park

request: no lol

a/n: this is my first time posting my fanfiction, so please be kind with any criticism! x <3

- being one of the only people eric can genuinely get along with

- because let’s be real, if he were to let a girl in his main friend group he’d definitely have to actually like you

- and if even eric likes you, the others definitely love you

- you’re really close with all of them, picking up kenny and karen with your shitty car every morning, slacking off and talking about whatever with stan in first period, rating the day’s school lunch with eric (you both take this very seriously), and letting kyle coach you through your biology homework after school

- you’re really the glue to their broship, because without you there kyle would’ve definitely dropped eric at some point and they would’ve split up the whole group

- but don’t worry, they don’t argue as much as they used to in elementary and middle school

- ironically you all have one period together, ap history with mr. garrison

- it’s definitely your favorite time of the day because you get to see all your favorite people at once

- it’s also definitely not mr. garrison’s favorite time of day, he’s hated you little gremlins since fourth grade (and you can’t really blame him)

- outside of school you try to see them as much as possible

- you definitely see kenny the most, he loves just hanging out at your house so he doesn’t have to be at his own

- he even takes karen with him sometimes, and you love babysitting her together and going out to hang around south park

- if you smoke you guys get blazed together all the time (it’s tegridy weed he steals from stan’s house when he’s there)

- whenever you’re just chilling with your other friends (like bebe or wendy) he comes up to you throughout the day to ask if you want to have a smoke break with him

- if you don’t smoke he definitely tries to blow the smoke away from your face as much as he can

- you’re his trip sitter

- he’s also visited you as mysterion, kind of like how they do in miraculous (if you catch my drift)

- you’ve definitely bragged about being friends with mysterion before, much to eric’s dismay

- speaking of eric’s dismay, he’s the most jealous friend you’ll ever have

- “who took that picture of you” “why aren’t you free this weekend?” “why won’t you go to casa bonita with me” “why do you hang out with that loser anyways” ALL. DAY. LONG.

- he loves hanging out with you alone the most so no one steals your attention away from him

- he likes people knowing you guys are friends since he thinks you’re cool (and honestly he just wants people to think he’s cool too, he cares)

- you don’t call him fatass and he really appreciates it, he doesn’t say it though

- you need to pick up a lot of the love you get from eric like context clues since he doesn’t ever really say it out loud

- also liane LOVES YOU

- she sees you as a good influence on her son

- she’s also the type to try and get you to eat over every time you come over (which i also see sheila doing)

- speaking of sheila she’d definitely invite you to celebrate hanukkah with the broflovskis, it became a yearly thing

- kyle and you are study buddies since he doesn’t want you to fail and stay a class behind

- he gets angry when he gets sad, and you can deal with that really well, you calm him down really easily

- you guys have deep conversations whenever you’re alone together

- you hang together on the roof of your house and watch the sunset while talking about the meaning of life or some shit LMAO

- if you also have textured hair you guys would have joint wash days and it’s so cute

- and 80% of the time you’re with kyle stan is there too

- not that you mind

- if you play and instrument you have definitely written music together with stan

- and even if you don’t you love hearing him play, you’re his number one fan

- jam sessions in his barn >>>

- i feel like i’m one of the only people who isn’t a football stan truther, like he’s literally a little nerd who plays guitar

- he plays warhammer with you if you’re into board games, and you guys get really into it together

- that first period chat i mentioned earlier? yeah definitely filled with your character lore and shit

- stan loves hanging out at your house to get away from his dad, honestly yours and eric’s houses are just the general hang out spots for the gang

- whenever you guys hang out with the five of you it’s mostly video games and chilling with food

- subsections of the group are definitely you/stan/kyle and you/kenny/eric (even though eric doesn’t like sharing you he gets really bad FOMO anytime he’s not there)

- whenever you hang with kenny and eric it’s filled with immature jokes, and probably weed too

- idk i just see kenny getting high 24/7 and i feel like eric would try smoking at least once

- kyle and stan won’t try weed, since stan hates it and kyle promised not to try weed to stan when randy bought tegridy farms

- and because butters is basically a bonus member of the group you’d definitely also be friends with him

- you, kenny and butters make the best trio ever, you guys have so much fun

- butters deserves someone sweet in his life and you two are definitely that to him

- whenever he’s working you and kenny just hang around the whole day in a booth, sometimes kyle comes over too to help you study a bit

- willy chilly’s is a hang out spot too, it seems so nice in the summer

- in conclusion you and the boys have a great friendship, and you have ever since you were young! it’s so cute honestly

[brellafaun]

assorted small town au ramblings

all the hargreeves kids grew up in different houses with their birth moms but still went to the same schools together. lila was a transplant from the burbs and she was dying of boredom her first year there

a small mountain town just feels right. lots of woods to explore, plenty of places to hike- small enough that everyone is close, but spacious enough that it's not suffocating

i can picture some of the boys going hunting when the season comes around. diego would probably get really into it and five would be the best with a crossbow. everyone is down for fishing and screwing around at the local lake, though

speak of, hargreeves family cookouts monthly. everyone brings something and the kids run around while the adults just chill. either hosted by diego and lila's place or at the lake's shitty park tables

Luther is a math teacher at the local middle school (he is so smart. i will die on this hill) and adores his job. all the kids think he's the coolest person they've ever met. Sloane is the geography/history teacher down the hall. they make lunches for each other and spend their prep periods together. their students FREAKED OUT when they found out they were married. he works with the local scout troops over the summers and likes canoeing the best

Diego works with the local fire department (i can't make him a cop i'm sorry) and loves it. got really into axe throwing and wanted to teach Stanley, Grace, and the twins how to do it before Lila vetoed it. deer hunts in the fall, fishes as often as possible. epitome of girl dad, those kids have him wrapped around their little fingers. best bass player in town and avid enjoyer of the local bars' battle of the bands

Allison works with local government. amazing public speaker. lives in the heart of town with Ray and Claire, happier than ever. always the first to volunteer for Claire's school events- coaches for the high school volleyball team and is the best drama coach they've ever seen. surprisingly, loves camping the most out of anyone in the group. points out every constellation (she and Luther compete to see who can name the most) when they're outdoors and makes the best s'mores

Klaus sells the crochet and knit goods they make at local markets/the town festivals. has immaculate reviews on his etsy store. somehow pulls the best thrifting hauls with Allison and Claire. goes to the lake the most out of the group- loves to swim out and relax in the water. doesn't go on the hunting or fishing trips but does know all of the edible plant species they can forage locally. roomies with Ben and has a cat named Tango. keeps picking up DIYs in order to have excuses to visit Dave down at the hardware store

Five is the group cryptid. has a cabin in the woods somewhere. almost a full-on survivalist, bound to actually go feral someday. works with the town's historical society and archives. gets lunch with Herb and Dot semi-regularly. Mr. Pennycrumb accompanies him everywhere, and nobody argues with it. cans his own food and has bees on his property (he regularly leaves jam and honey jars on the others' porches and denies doing so). either the best dressed one at the function or wearing an awful fishing/hunting pun hoodie, no in-between

Ben is a librarian, and a kickass one at that. the best at story hour (his puppeteering skills with the octopus are immaculate) and incredible with multitasking. handles a bunch of finance stuff behind the scenes (diego and klaus are hopeless with taxes, five has almost been arrested for evasion). works on his motorcycle when he has free time and rides down to the valley to visit his girlfriend. presses wildflowers and helps at the community garden

Viktor works at the local music shop, Icarus Records. Luther is his most frequent customer and has probably bought at least half of their stock at this point. he's got more music knowledge than anyone else in town. loves going out on the hiking trails to play at the peaks- it brings him a sense of peace like nothing else. volunteers with the schools to teach music. still in his teenage band with Diego and Lila. visits his mom every week and sits out on the porch with her drinking sweet tea. budding romance with the newest transplant- a recently divorced woman from texas. (her son adores him already)

Lila also works with the historical society, but as the chaotic social media/marketing manager. she gets paid to meme and that's probably her dream career. attends every PTA meeting purely to psych out the other moms. drums whenever she gets the chance, absolutely demolishing everyone at the battle of the bands. chaotic evil driver- she learned with city traffic and assumes it makes her immune to the super windy roads. steals Diego's flannels and denies it

might make a separate post about their teenage years,,,

[teecupangel]

Hey tee want to hear an absolutely horrific Desmond idea that just popped in my head? Of course you do.

(tw though for a bunch of stuff about dead bodies so if that's a squick you can delete this message without reading the rest.)

At one point in The Hollows book series, the protagonist encounters a high-power magic entity that can possess the recently dead in order to communicate directly with mortals.

What if a Desmond whose body is destroyed by the aurora device and he ends up adrift in the Grey for an unknowable amount of time

until he gravitates, without meaning to, to points in his ancestral history where there is a suitable vessel for him to inhabit?

The rules surrounding this:

1) The vessel he occupies must be recently deceased, within about two hours.

2) How long he can stay in a body is affected by how complex the life form is. Humans are the longest at 12hrs.

3) The time limit is expressed by the body slowly turning to ash and dust, until it reaches a critical point and can no longer hold itself together, at which point it basically disintegrates.

4) Those with Eagle Vision inherently know on looking at a body occupied by Desmond that it is Desmond. If he is occupying a human body, he will seem to them to resemble what he looked like when he was alive.

//

more assorted thoughts:

Desmond isn't limited to a linear timeline. He gets drawn back to the Grey every time his body dissolves, from which theoretically any point in time can be accessed.

I like the idea though that at least at first, he doesn't have control over where he goes. In addition to trying to figure out how this whole thing works, he's just popping up in the most random/useless of times.

He can visit any time and place he has an ancestral connection to, whether or not he unlocked those memories while he was still alive. There just needs to be a suitable vessel nearby. And, well. Pretty much every assassin ancestor has plenty of opportunity for that.

Also, jumping off rule 3 above, Desmond isn't like...so him needing to possess a vessel is basically like, needing to anchor himself to something Present. And what he's anchoring to isn't even the body exactly, it's the memory of life. Which is why more complex things anchor him longer, they have a more substantial memory of life/concept of self/their existence.

So as he's burning through the body, he's holding it together through his own force of will more and more, until the memory is burnt out and will alone isn't enough.

An interesting effect then is that the body's death blows don't affect what he's able to do in it, but lifelong conditions do, when he first possesses it. If a person's eyes were gouged out to kill them, Desmond can still see in the body, because the memory of life still remembers having eyes, even though the physical eyes are ruined. But if Desmond possessed someone who had been blind for years, he wouldn't be able to see, because the memory of life doesn't conceptualize itself as a seeing being. As the memory faded and it became more about Desmond holding himself together, he'd regain some of his sight.

Funny enough, this means that while non-human bodies tend to be of limited usefulness, there is a period toward the end of the possession where he can speak and communicate with people, even if he's like. A mouse. Because at the very end it's more his concept of self establishing what the body can do than the mouse's.

.

For real though just imagine with me how freaked out his ancestors would be when some of their kills randomly sit back up and start talking. Like. You never know when or where Zombie Desmond will appear, but it will probably be at the least convenient of times and everyone will scream.

I love this idea because of the sheer angst potential.

Like, sure, we can go down the horror comedy route and I’m all for it since I love that genre.

But just imagine Desmond possessing one of the Auditore’s bodies while Ezio was trying to bury them. Ezio’s horrified outrage at the idea that some kind of entity was possessing his younger brother. Desmond didn’t mean to possess Petruccio’s body, he still can’t control this, Ezio- “Shut up!”

It’s definitely the worst kind of first meeting.

And Desmond doesn’t know if this was worse or better than his first meeting with Altaïr.

Because with Altaïr, Desmond screwed up so badly by possessing Adha’s dead body, giving Altaïr a false sense of hope that he wasn’t too late.

Unlike Ezio’s grief and rage, the way Altaïr’s face completely shut down was much more worrying to Desmond because he has no idea what that silence was supposed to mean.

Even when Desmond apologizes and promises that he didn’t mean to, Altaïr simply ignored all of these and just asked Desmond what he was and what he wanted.

The worst part of this entire thing is that Desmond doesn’t even know what he wanted.

And then there was Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Desmond didn’t even know if Ratonhnhaké:ton hated him or not.

Because the first time Desmond possessed someone in Ratonhnhaké:ton’s time, he was getting the hang of all of these.

And he was able to save Kaniehtí:io, sure.

By possessing a child who had recently died. A child that Ratonhnhaké:ton knew by name. He had probably been playing with that child a few hours ago before Desmond possessed their corpse.

… and Desmond spent weeks in that body with only Ratonhnhaké:ton knowing that he wasn’t his friend.

Ratonhnhaké:ton probably didn’t trust him.

But hey…

At least he didn’t possessed Kaniehtí:io or something.

That would have been so awkward.

The new problem Desmond had was that…

Well…

He just possessed some naked dude in the middle of some sort of island.

“Jeezus!”

And he has no idea who this dark blond haired man that smelled of salt and rum was supposed to be.

But from the looks of things…

He was wearing what may or may not be Assassin robes belonging to the dead body he was now occupying.

[inkspiredwriting]

A Moment Out of Time

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves and his siblings had found themselves once again displaced in time. This time, it was the 1980s. They were stranded, trying to find a way back to their own era, but the path was fraught with complications. Amidst the chaos of adjusting to yet another time period, Five met Y/N.

Y/N was different from anyone he had ever known. She had a resilience and warmth that drew him in, despite his usual reluctance to let anyone get close. They met at a local library, where Five had been researching potential leads on how to return to his own time. Y/N, a librarian with an insatiable curiosity, had offered to help him with his mysterious inquiries.

Over time, their shared moments turned from purely professional to deeply personal. They would spend evenings together, discussing everything from history to their hopes and fears. Five found himself opening up to Y/N in ways he hadn't with anyone else. And Y/N, despite sensing there was much he wasn't telling her, found herself falling for the enigmatic time traveler.

One evening, they were sitting in a small café, the warm glow of the setting sun casting a golden hue over everything. Five looked at Y/N, her laughter infectious as she recounted a funny story from her childhood. But beneath his smile, a heaviness weighed on his heart. He knew their time together was running out.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

She looked at him, her smile fading as she saw the seriousness in his eyes. “What is it, Five?”

He took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “I’m not from here. Not just this place, but this time. My siblings and I, we’re from the future, and we’ve been trying to get back.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her mind racing to comprehend what he was saying. “The future? How far?”

“Far enough,” he replied. “But now we’ve found a way back, and… I have to leave.”

The weight of his words settled between them, the reality of their situation hitting Y/N like a tidal wave. “You’re leaving?”

Five nodded, pain evident in his eyes. “I don’t want to, but I have to. My family needs me, and we have responsibilities in our own time.”

Y/N looked down, her heart breaking. “How long do we have?”

“Just a few more days,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes, but she fought to keep her composure. “I knew there was something different about you, something extraordinary. But I never imagined this.”

Five reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “I wish things were different. I wish I could stay.”

They spent those final days together, cherishing every moment. They visited Y/N’s favorite spots, shared stories, and made the most of the limited time they had. Each day was a bittersweet reminder of the impending goodbye.

On the last day, Five and Y/N stood at the spot where he would meet his siblings to travel back. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the ground.

“Promise me something,” Y/N said, her voice trembling.

“Anything,” Five replied, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“Promise me you’ll remember me, wherever you end up,” she said, tears streaming down her face.

Five pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “I promise, Y/N. I’ll never forget you.”

Their final kiss was tender and filled with a mix of love and sorrow. As they pulled apart, Five’s siblings appeared, ready to make the jump back to their own time.

Five turned to Y/N one last time, his heart aching. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Five,” she whispered, watching as he joined his siblings.

With a flash of light, they were gone, leaving Y/N standing alone, her heart shattered but filled with the memories of their time together.

Back in their own time, Five carried Y/N’s memory with him, a beacon of light in the dark corners of his life. And Y/N, though heartbroken, knew that she had been part of something extraordinary, something that transcended time itself.

[ill-loveyouthroughthestars]

I NEED SOPHIE BECKETT TO BE IRISH !!!!

This is my Roman Empire, i have dreamt of this and I have multiple reasons

1. It will tie into History and how Irish people have always been considered an outcast in society for centuries especially before the famine

2. When I read the book all I could hear was an Irish!Sophie with her accent, her attitude, her antics and her random quotes are so Irish I just love (I also feel with this Irish attitude it could bring humour to their storyline and season)

3. I feel it would also play well with Benedict not being able to recognise her even more due to her accent ( at the masquerade she pretend to be British when actually she is fully Irish)

4. People would even question her parentage even more due to her being Irish and highly educated (which was a rare sight in that period of history)

5. I feel like this aspect of Sophie could show how she has never felt like a person, never having something that was her and with this symbolism it shows how Irish people had everything taken from them as a nation and as people such as aspects of language, land and etc.

Irish!Sophie has never knew how beautiful Irish culture is with araminta excluding her from this side of her due to never considering her as a person.

Headcannon- she arrives to the Bridgerton household and a few of the staff are Irish and they start speaking to her in Irish and she’s like “what” like utterly confused and they start to question her and her upbringing

6. And I was watching titanic (I know) and I was thinking this would be iconic for irish!sophie (let me cook!!!)

I imagine a scene like the Irish dance scene in titanic

^^^^^

When Sophie starts to work for the Bridgerton household she meet the other house staff which could have a few Irish iconic characters and they invite her to a drink and a dance in like an underground basement type of thing where there is montage of Sophie dancing a ceile or drinking with her fellow Irish people (rambled there for a second)

This starts to happen a few other nights and Benedict gets suspicious of her always being tired and he follows her one night and finds her dancing, singing and looking happy. He decides to confront her but just to see she has had too much fun ( she’s drunk) and as he is about to scould her or something idk she grabs him to dance (this could be like a moment he fully falls for her)

Skip to them leaving and Sophie is drunk and they could have a moment where it parallels to Benedict’s high dinner scene on their walk home (we live among the stars type of moment)

NOW HEAR ME OUT!!!!!

They could somehow have a little drunk smooch and Sophie is at the state of drunk that she nearly reveals that she was the lady in silver at the masquerade ball and as she’s about it fully tell him she’s like “I was the La- lady-“ AND SHE JUST PUKES ON HIS FEET

(Y’all cancel me Idaf I needed this to be known)

And there’s a moment where they just look in shock and disbelief they start to laugh.

Skip to the next morning and she is hungover like crazy and she leaves her room and runs into Benedict and just tries to ignore what happened last night and bids him hello and hurriedly speeds off while he chuckles to himself

7. With Sophie being Irish it could also make Benophie stronger as Benedict is willing to accept her and understand her culture and involve it in their life e.g buying her a claddagh ring as an engagement ring (one of the stories about the creation of the claddagh ring are about a peasant and a prince fall in love and it is forbidden or something and the prince gives her a ring to symbolise their love(BENOPHIE CODED)), learning Irish with her, visiting ireland and giving their children irish middle names

8. I also think a brilliant song for the season would be linger by the cranberries because the lyrics and meaning of the song are perfect for Benophie while it also being an Irish band

9. I know that people are hoping for a POC Sophie or a Latina Sophie but I feel with Irish Sophie’s exclusion from society due to her being Irish shoes a whole other side of Bridgerton’s defiance against societal norms

10.i think I just want an Irish Sophie because I’m Irish but shhhhh