#who could have chosen like 17 year olds

[anotherpjofan]

Percy: They decided to send three 12 year olds on a quest that may or may not destroy the world if we fail?

Grover: I’m 24 actually

Annabeth: And you chose us

[bugsludge]

Maybe the rage deal in the last episode wasn’t JUST “You live but have extreme amounts of rage.” What if they were offered their wildest dreams and the rage was a clause in like microfont bc to them the gifts of achieving their goals and living seems like a great deal especially for children. The rage pushes them to achieve a goal, the rat grinders are KIDS they arnt gonna have crazy outrageous dreams and ambition at 17 years old, I knew nothing when I was that age.

You have a crush on a girl for a couple years and want to catch her attention? Bam. Get more confidence, become buff, get noticed first the first time ever. Oisin was completely unrecognizable before but now after all this?

You hate another rogue so much you want to be better than him? Bam! Kipperlily finds the rogue teacher first AND signs up for the election assuming riz would be the one to do it bc why would Kristen Applebees want to be president? Which could be an event bigger fuel to KLCK’s fire.

You want to be a famous musician and you’re jealous of a bard in school who never goes to class but has what you don’t? Bam! Ruben copies her look and produce music when she’s on hiatus as well as getting signed by her label

Mary Anne’s is small and girly she was probably bullied and wanted to make it stop, so shes now indifferent, and strong enough to stand up for herself, she sees Gorgug on the first day of school get decked in the face jsut to grow into this strong guy and sees him as inspiration

Lucy was content with life, she loved her friends, loved her god and knew the rage wasn’t what she wanted to have to live with. The resurrection is supposed to help them feel fulfilled but she’d just be more unsatisfied with life if she took the offer. Lucy was happy with what she had, and had no further aspirations, she loved her god and 'stuck to her guns'

Buddy dawn a follower of helio, watches the chosen one of his church abandon everything, he’s sad and confused as to why she did what she did. He dies and is offered the chance to become the chosen one for an unnamed god, he’s scared, helio is missing, and if Kristin took an offer from a new god and was okay why wouldn’t he be?

The rat grinders were scared kids who needed a miracle, and one was offered CHILDREN WILL SCREAM FOR HELP UNTIL THEY ARE ARE OFFERED SANCTION, IT DOESN’T MATTER WHO THE SAVIOR IS

[meazalykov]

oberdorf's daughter

lena oberdorf x reader x daughter!oc

summary: the daughter who carries on the legacy of you and lena

meadow oberdorf stood in the center of the pitch, her heart pounding against her ribcage as the floodlights of the stadium illuminated the field.

the semis of the 2047 world cup—the biggest moment of her life. 

the german crowd roared around her, their cheers deafening, their chants reverberating through the air as if they were singing her name. she wore the number six jersey, the same number lena had worn during her legendary career. 

it was a badge of honor and an unspoken challenge, one she accepted with pride. she was lena’s daughter, after all, but she was also yours. 

you sat in the stands, leaning forward as you gripped lena’s hand tightly. her palm was as clammy as yours. she was nervous; you both were. this was no ordinary match, not for meadow, not for you. it was germany versus the united states. the weight of that alone pressed down on your chest. 

it was the two nations that defined your family—the one you were born into and the one you’d chosen through love and marriage.

your daughter’s dark brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, identical to lena’s signature style during her playing days. when meadow turned her head, her sharp features, the strong jawline, the defined cheekbones.. it reminded you of lena at her peak. 

as much as meadow looked like lena, her fire, her stubborn determination, and her unwavering ability to push through the toughest of situations? that was you. that was all you.

meadow hadn’t slept much the night before the match. her mind was racing as she replayed years of memories. she’d grown up watching clips of you as a 17-year-old prodigy in 2019, scoring the winning goal in the final against the netherlands. 

your fiery passion on the field had always inspired her. she remembered the stories lena told her about the infamous 2027 final—germany versus the united states, where you and lena faced off in what the press had called the “battle of the greatest countries in women’s football.” 

you scored two goals that final, leading the 2-0 u.s. victory, and lena still joked about how it took her weeks to forgive you, despite you going to her doorstep every morning to give her forgiveness flowers.

growing up in a household where both parents were icons of the sport wasn’t easy, but meadow thrived under the weight of expectation. she learned tactics and strength from lena, who taught her how to read the game and control the midfield with calm precision. 

from you, she inherited creativity, speed, and the ability to turn a match on its head with a single moment of brilliance.

still, nothing could have prepared her for this—facing the united states in the world cup semifinals. it wasn’t just any team. it was your team, the one that had shaped you, molded you, and catapulted you into football history. 

“don’t think about that,” you told her the night before the match, sitting beside her on the couch in the team hotel. you visited her specifically when she asked to talk with you, and you alone without her other mama.

meadow leaned into your side, seeking comfort like she always did when the pressure became too much. 

“focus on your game. don’t play for obi or for me. play for yourself. that’s all that matters.”

meadow didn’t say much. she simply nodded, her dark eyes focused on the floor. but you knew her well enough to see the conflict raging inside her. she wanted to make you proud, but how could she when you were american? how could she look you in the eyes if her goal meant eliminating the country you’d once captained?

“listen to me,” you whispered, turning her face to look at you. 

“you don’t owe me or mama lena anything, okay? you’re already everything we could’ve dreamed of. tomorrow, no matter what happens, i’ll be rooting for you. nobody else. you.”

tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “thanks, mama.”

as the match progressed, you watched meadow closely. her every movement was deliberate and purposeful. she covered the midfield with ease, combining lena’s physicality with your tactical awareness. 

when the united states launched an attack, meadow was there, intercepting a pass with a perfectly timed slide tackle. lena jumped to her feet beside you, clapping and cheering loudly, her pride unmistakable.

the u.s. defense was solid, and germany struggled to break through. the scoreline remained 0-0, and as the minutes ticked by, the tension in the stadium grew thicker. meadow’s face was a mask of focus, but you knew her well enough to see the frustration building.

 

in the 89th minute, the ball found its way to meadow at the edge of the box. her teammate had passed it to her under pressure, and meadow had seconds—maybe less—to make a decision. time seemed to slow as she took a single touch to control the ball, her head lifting to scan the goal. 

the american goalkeeper was positioned well, but meadow didn’t hesitate. 

with a sharp pivot and a quick shift of her body weight, she struck the ball with her right foot. the shot was a rocket, curving through the air like it had a mind of its own. it sailed past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper and crashed into the top corner of the net.

the stadium erupted.

meadow stood frozen for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. then, as the roar of the crowd washed over her, she turned and ran toward the corner flag, her hands outstretched, her face lit up with pure joy. mea’s german teammates swarmed her, piling on top of her in celebration. 

you and lena were on your feet, shouting and cheering. your heart felt like it might burst from your chest as you watched meadow step out of the huddle, pointing at the german badge on her chest. she looked straight at the stands, her eyes searching until they found you.

she mouthed something—"this is for you"—and you felt your throat tighten with emotion.

lena pulled you into a tight hug, her own tears streaming down her face. “that’s our girl,” she whispered, her voice trembling with pride. 

“our daughter.”

after the final whistle, germany’s victory was sealed, and meadow’s goal became the defining

moment of the match. as the players celebrated on the field, meadow broke away and sprinted toward the stands where you and lena were. 

security let her through, and before you knew it, she was in your arms, her jersey damp with sweat, her face flushed with exertion and happiness.

“i did it, mama,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. 

“i did it.”

you cupped her face in your hands, your own tears finally spilling over. 

“you were incredible. absolutely incredible.”

lena joined the embrace, wrapping both of you in her arms. “we’re so proud of you, mein schatz,” she said, kissing the top of meadow’s head. 

meadow pulled back slightly, looking at you with a wide grin. 

“you don’t think i’m a traitor, right? for knocking out the u.s.?”

you laughed, shaking your head. 

“are you kidding me? that was one of the best goals i’ve ever seen. and trust me, i’ve seen a lot.”

“probably better than your second goal against us back in 2027..” 

“hey!” you gasped in fake offensiveness.

“i’m kidding! besides meadow,” lena added with a smirk, “you’ve always been german anyways.”

meadow smiled, her eyes shining with pride and relief. 

“i couldn’t have done it without you guys. without everything you’ve taught me.”

you hugged her again, holding her tightly. 

“you didn’t just make us proud tonight, meadow. you made yourself proud.”

masterlist

authors note: this wasn't in wip since I typed this up in the middle of the night (couldn't sleep and thought this was a cute idea that I couldn't forget about). enjoy the two fics in one day :)

[spinderella-umbrella]

@wolfstarmicrofic | 27-03: Expecto Patronum | 574 words

“Sir, I— would it be possible to demonstrate my patronus privately?” Sirius asks this years DADA teacher, tone lowered to not catch the attention of the other students as they revised for the mid term examination being held in the second period.

“All students must demonstrate their patronus in the same conditions, Mr. Black.” The professor states gruffly, a little too loud, Sirius looking up to see that they had at least caught the attention of a few students in the first row, as well as Remus, damn his wolf hearing, in the back. He flushes, beginning to stutter.

“But— it… Sir, you must know that a patronus can be quite revealing…”

The professor just stares blankly back at him. “And what kind of life threatening secrets does a 17 year old have, pray tell?”

Sirius frowns, biting back the correction that he’s 18, thank you very much- lip isn’t going to help his case. Instead he just nods at the teacher, and returns to his seat.

He crosses his arms on the table and lays his head down on them, feeling a bit defeated. It had taken him forever to get it, and when he finally did… He huffs, felling sorry for himself, because now he’s going to have to throw the practical exam.

Remus slides into James’ vacant seat- he’s off talking to Lily, or bugging her, more likely.

“You okay?” Remus asks, ever the gentle, caring giant. Sirius can’t bring himself to look at him, he just grunts.

“Have you still not been able to get it? Is that why you…” Remus tries, and Sirius sighs heavily, turning his head to face Remus but not lifting it from his arms. He meets warm eyes and he could just lie, and say he hadn’t gotten it.

Remus’ patronus was a wolf. Not the kind of wolf that he was, but a wolf all the same. Strong, powerful.

But Sirius’ was Moony. Anyone who had been paying attention in their previous years classes would know that it wasn’t an ordinary wolf.

And it’s unlikely Remus would take it for what it was- that Sirius was entirely devoted to him, mind, body, soul and curse— likely seeing it as Sirius not taking the danger being close to Moony every full moon seriously.

“I— I can cast a patronus.” Sirius says quietly, turning his face back down into his hands. He can’t do this.

“Okay…” Remus says, not pushing.

When it comes to Sirius’ turn, he barely casts a whisp. His second try, a poor excuse for a shield.

He can’t risk it.

Later in the dorms, James corners him and asks what happened, because he was the person that Sirius went to when he finally got it, insisting they celebrate. He hadn’t shown him though, and now, James demands to see it, because Sirius won’t even go to dumbledore to explain the situation.

With a heavy sigh, Sirius draws on his chosen memory, and casts, “Expecto Patronum,” a fully corporal patronus of Moony erupting from his wand.

“Oh.” James says,

“Yeah.” Sirius echoes, watching Moony prance around the room.

“So you like. Properly fancy him huh.” James says, and Sirius groans, throwing himself back onto his bed.

“What am I going to do!”

“You could just tell him.” Remus answers from the door he hadn’t even realised was ajar, Sirius bolting up at the sound of his voice with wide eyes. “He might just tell you he likes you too.”

[getocurse]

Dissecting harry and tom.

My headcanon of harry's height and physical appearance (I know it's been done too many times already but hmm sshhh).

James potter was considered tall by voldemort. The male average height by the 1970s - 1980s was 5'10" (courtesy of a Google search and reading a few articles). If he's tall, I hc him as 6'1" by the age of 21.

In the books, harry grew up a lot after 15 and stood as tall as his father at the age of 17, which indicates that harry was a late bloomer.

His food intake is not consistent. He was not given proper portions as a child. At Hogwarts, he had plenty of food but often neglected his food intake out of stress. His friends encourage him to eat by sending him food and molly fussed over his diet.

Even without proper nutrition, harry stood at james 21 years old height at 17. What could Harry's height be when he grows up more?

Harry has an active lifestyle from the start. Running away from his bullies and training for quidditch.

Quidditch practice and drills are not the usual gym weightlifting and excercise. There's a general idea in fanon that a seeker is of slight build which is contrary to Cedric diggory who was athletic and fit. As a seeker, harry needs to train his entire body to go as fast as he can, dodge bludgers, dive sharply, pull up his broom at the last minute and hone his reflexes.

His firebolt was very responsive to him and harry felt like it was an extension of himself. But he would've had to use his own strength against the g-force. No matter how responsive the broom is, ultimately harry is the one controlling it.

So harry probably had a toned body. Not muscular ofc but something close to Andrew Garfield in the Amazing Spider-Man. Not with visibly bulky muscles but wiry and lean.

After the war, harry would have more time to eat. He had his auror training, which could've involved more intense physical training with a proper regimen. He might've developed muscles with this and a better diet.

Harry's attractiveness is not described but he's implied to be quite the looker. He inherited Lily's almond eyes, his father's hair. His eyebrows are similar to james but his nose is smaller. His face shape might be a combination of both. As he grows up, his face would be more and more defined. Lily was gorgeous and james was attractive.

He had girls giggling around him, trying to ask him out for the yule ball and he dated the prettiest girls in Hogwarts. Parvati, cho and ginny were all described to be really pretty by the boys.

Now why am I playing the same record again? Because of the tomarry ship. Harry is so very often shown as the delicate, malnourished boy. Especially in the tomarry fandom. But he doesn't stay the same small and skinny boy forever does he?

The entire story revolves around Harry's growth.

Really, boys grow up. Especially a late bloomer like harry would definitely grow more. I've seen the tiniest boys around me shoot up like bamboos and it's very common among men to keep growing till they're 21.

Coming to physical strength, harry is pretty damn strong even by 17. He tackled his opponents, threw punches on draco enough to get banned from quidditch and wrestled his enemies. My most favourite of all is that he choked a grown man, pulled him upto his height and held him there in one hand. So, he's strong.

Personality wise, harry is a very complex character.

He grew up in a household shushing him. He's not the stereotypical talkative, brash and loud gryffindor.

He's in fact described to be brooding in general; more and more when there's impending doom. Only the readers get insight into his mind but the characters around him see him differently. He appears cold and closed off to the general population. Only with his friends and his chosen family, he's a bit vulnerable.

Harry is very discrete with his own emotions. He bottles up his feelings and is shown to be embarrased and aversive to emotional vulnerability. He cringed when cho cried. But he comforted his friends as best as his emotionally stunted mind could. So he's awkward with words and emotions.

His anger runs cold. He's described to speak coldly when angry. But when he's too frustrated and stressed, he lashes out with his words. Grabs and shoves people. He yells and throws objects. Specifically the scene in Dumbledore's office was heartbreaking. Because it was the culmination of all his rage, stress and sadness, just exploding.

Harry had some of the best retorts and comebacks. He's witty and has a charmingly dry humor. But it's not for humor, so much as a defence mechanism. He shows his sense of wit from his childhood to the final battle, where he engaged voldemort in a verbal fight too.

How loving was harry? He cared for his loved ones in wierd ways. He's not used to the love languages we know and it shows a lot. He understands people's situation and feels empathy for them but doesn't really know how to deal with their feelings. He offers reassurances and support when he can though.

So I find it really heteronormative and self insertive to constantly only show him as the same small boy. With the conventional trope of skinny bottom and big strong top. If that's your thing, it's your artistic rights and I have nothing against it. I only wish there was more canon appearance and traits though.

The usual brand of tomarry depicted with tom or voldemort being bigger is totally opposite to canon

Voldemort is described as tall and unnaturally thin. His height is frequently mentioned. I hc him as something around 6'3". So an experienced and mature harry going back in time would be of similar or the same height as tom riddle/ voldemort. Physically harry would be much stronger though. Tom's appearance is said to be gaunt and thin. Because tom was not the atheletic type (yes he flew but I rather think it was out of frustration with his first broom lessons) and he's depicted growing thinner and skeletal. In the resurrection scene, voldemort says he got his old body back meaning his appearance was a gradual descent over the course of his life.

Coming to Harry's courage, recklessness and his slytherin nature, Harry is so interesting. He's saddled with so many responsibilities but his resilience is his most brilliant virtue. No matter what, he survives.

What I don't like with tomarry is when harry is an utterly helpless child. Against all odds, harry survived. By circumstances, deus ex machina, convenient coincidences, or his own actions and strength, he was the victor through it all.

Voldemort was terrified of his prophecied enemy, enough to kill a small baby and constantly try to kill the kid again and again. His 16 years old horcrux screamed in terror when harry struck his diary, his adult self screamed in both rage and fear against harry in many instances. Contrary to the usual trope of harry shrieking and screaming in the fics, it's actually voldemort who does that a lot in canon. He's highly dramatic too.

The power imbalance tilts in the favour of voldemort too much in many fics. But they're equals. They are the antithesis and the parallels of each other. Why is this not portrayed more?

I don't mean it as a dark vs light, evil vs sunshine, dark lord vs cinnamon roll, manipulative tom vs oblivious harry, slytherin heir vs golden boy.

No I want the canon harry, who was so intuitive, perceptive, observant, charming, leading, talented and hardworking!

In magical power, voldemort was more experienced and had so much brilliance.

But harry had raw desperate power. His life is a constant motion of do or die. His magic doesn't work in the ways other's does. He's shown as incredibly powerful. He's capable of wandless magic, he doesn't really use his incantations properly in some scenes, his wand responds to him so well and his magic was definitely on par with tom riddle. He didn't need finesse or style. He didn't have to be showy. He's doing everything out of survival.

One scene I like is when Dumbledore who's growing weak after drinking that nightmare potion said he's not worried because he was with harry.

Not to mention by the end of the story, harry is the master of death. It's kind of implied that he might've been the MOD all along though.

Harry was a leader. He didn't want to be, but he was. People looked up to him. They had a sheep mindset flailing here and there but the acknowledgement of harry was always present. His words and actions had power and harry did wield it. He didn't shy away everytime. He knew his role.

He's the symbol of hope but not the paragon of light. He used crucio twice (bellatrix for killing sirius and some death eater for spitting at mcgonagall) and imperioed many times.

Another thing is Harry's love and empathy is blown upto astronomical levels. Harry's ultimate power was love but that was his parents' sacrifice too. It powered him and was the driving force.

Does that mean harry felt love, pity and empathy for every little thing and saved the world for it? Little bit yes. But I mentioned that harry kept a very close circle right? He cared for others and protected them yes, but it was all out of duty. He's not exactly a cinnamon roll. He's not forgiving. He's violent, has thoughts of harming and hurting people when looking at his enemies, even had such thoughts about Dumbledore. He was harsh to his own loved ones. Yelling at them, using blunt and cutting words in rage.

His feelings about murder is very clear. He's not scandalized about killing people. He didn't feel guilty about killing quirrel at 11 or the death eaters. He is a morally grey character. He knew that murder was a part of war. He was willing to put someone else in peril for his gains.

His mind is intuitive. He's also calculating and manipulative. He lies a lot, scares his uncle, scares his friends, takes the ultimate action in many situations, knows when to go with the flow, know how to try and get the best of any situation.

He's not flawless, but has many. He doesn't have a 2d personality. The layers he has and his complexity is what makes him so interesting to me.

His soul is described to be pure. But how pure is his mind after all he went through? Was he ever really as innocent?

Would such a person really submit himself to his tormentor? Harry would have more leverage on an equal foot. He'd be just as stubborn and brilliant as voldemort. He is an asshole, he is manipulative and cunning too.

The EQUALS part was the biggest factor which drew me to tomarry.

Hmmmmmmm. Hmmmmm. Hmm.

It changes the usual dynamics of the ship doesn't it. I want more of this take please please please.

It's the biggest reason why I prefer top harry or switching fics in general. I'm not much of a fan of bottom harry whose character doesn't align with canon. That's just me though. I don't have anything against bottom harry, but it's just not my thing. If the story doesn't mischaracterize him, I'll read it. Because this is fiction. Nothing to hold against anyone's expression of own interpretations.

In my head though, harry with his strong arms and skinny monster voldemort/ tom is delicious.

The amount of potential here is enormous.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

If the age restriction was done away with, do you think Harry's name would have been picked for the tournament at 14?

Maybe.

Like, how the goblet chooses a champion has nothing to do with age. The age restrictions were added by Dumbledore with his age line. The goblet only cares to pick out the "most worthy" champion:

An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.

(GoF, ch12)

is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion

(GoF, ch12)

Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools.

(GoF, ch16)

"Most worthy to represent the school", now worth could be measured in a bunch of ways, but let's take this quote at face value and assume it means everything. That a champion would be a decent person who is very magically talented. As in, judging on character, intelligence, and magical skill/talent.

At 17, Harry would be picked no questions asked. He's magically capable, he's clever, he's a great guy — he is the perfect champion.

The question is if a 14-year-old Harry would be considered by the goblet more magically skilled and worthy of competing than Cedric. To that, I think the answer is yes too, actually.

Maybe it's because I love Harry a ton and am, therefore, biased, but he can resist the imperius at 14 and cast a patronus at 13. He can cast intuitive magic to rival adults at 14. His accio charm in the first task was incredibly magically impressive. Even if Barty/Moody wasn't helping him, I guarantee Harry could've gotten past the obstacles in the 3rd task as easily as any of the other champions.

Additionally, I think Harry is a nobler person than Cedric. I will remind you Harry chose to tell Cedric about the dragons on his own accord because he wanted things to be fair:

Cedric still didn’t know about the dragons . . . the only champion who didn’t, if Harry was right in thinking that Maxime and Karkaroff would have told Fleur and Krum. . . . [...] “Cedric,” said Harry, “the first task is dragons.” “What?” said Cedric, looking up. “Dragons,” said Harry, speaking quickly, in case Professor Flitwick came out to see where Cedric had got to. “They’ve got four, one for each of us, and we’ve got to get past them.”

(GoF, ch20)

While Cedric Diggory, the poster child for just and fair Hufflepuff house, gives Harry way less helpful information and he does it as a transaction — as returning the favor and not because he thinks it would make things fair:

“Listen . . .” Cedric lowered his voice as Ron disappeared. “I owe you one for telling me about the dragons. You know that golden egg? Does yours wail when you open it?” “Yeah,” said Harry. “Well . . . take a bath, okay?” [...] “Tell you what,” Cedric said, “use the prefects’ bathroom. Fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Password’s ‘pine fresh.’ Gotta go . . .

(GoF, ch23)

Also, there's a reason Harry stays behind in the second task to make sure all the hostages are saved, he's the noblest competitor there. (Maybe because he doesn't care about winning as much as the others, but still).

So, yes, I think, if the age line wasn't there and Harry's name was placed in the goblet, I think he very well could've been chosen by the goblet as a champion. I think he's more than worthy.

[radiocrypt-id]

I got- I can't!

Imagine being 15, you've grown up your whole life with this one belief in this one God and you were told you were Chosen by Him, for Him. And you're 15. You believe so fully in the spirit of your religion, not necessarily the word, that you want to go to a non-religious school to try and help other kids maybe find your God because you genuinely believe that could be helpful to some of them, because it's all you know, and it's helped other strangers (human trafficking victims she helped in the black pit before) so why not other kids her age? You're 15 and all you can think about is helping others. And you start thinking about your religion, and reading books, and asking questions and you come to the conclusion that maybe your God and His Father aren't actually all that great. Maybe the church you're in has done some really bad things that you can't possibly make up for. Maybe that church is still doing bad things. And then you find out your family is actually in a cult for that God, not just part of the normal church, and you suddenly have to undo all the cult shit in your brain you were raised with, while that cult stuff you know about is actually useful to your friends, like having that knowledge is helpful for them! You're 15 and you stop going home. You have no real adult supervision or carer, just your other 15 year old friends.

Imagine you're 16, you're gay and figuring that out on top of navigating your first full romantic relationship and being the sole creator and cleric to a new God that you honestly find to be very two dimensional and empty. You're on a quest to find an evil being and stop them. You nearly die. Your friends nearly die. You're 16. You're 16 and feel something calling out to you, you know it's divine because you've felt that sort of pull before, but you've never felt one like this. You find memories and hints and pieces and you figure out that the evil being you have to stop, isn't evil, she's just hurting. She's hurt and She's a God. She's your God, and she's so happy to see you, and she has so many ideas, and so many hopes.

You're 17. You've spent your rest time (summer vacation) tearing across the world chasing down and defeating another evil thing that you and your friends accidentally released in the first place. Your God is with you, you have no time for Her. No time for anything but trying to survive and stay sane. You know She's disappointed in you, but you're one person -ONE PERSON- and you're 17. You missed your birthday. again. You've saved the world; again. You're so fucking tired -like always. You're Chosen, and alone, and have no idea what to do with your life, let alone your God. You aren't very good at school, but you go to every class. You're drowning as you try to rewrite your understanding of the world from what you grew up with, having no idea how to do anything without a book and godly hand to guide you. You only ever followed before, your new God is demanding you Lead. You don't know how. You're only 17. You see your horrible, abusive parents spitting abuse and racist rhetoric at your baby brother, who you haven't seen in two years, on the front steps to your school and for the first time ever you are filled with righteous fury. Your God answers your call, not knowing what you need but so eager to help, eager for your attention, she starts talking to you but you're busy -why can't she understand that you're fucking busy? trying to not die, trying to be safe, trying to keep your friends alive, trying to navigate a world that hates you, you're 17 and you're busy goddammit just wait!- and she snaps back at you and flees. The next time you see Her, maybe an hour later, She's got a creature with Her that nearly destroyed you and your friends last year sitting in her lap, so smug to see you again.

You're 17- no, 16- no, 15 years old and you're expected to build and carry the world on your shoulders, Chosen from birth, raised a lamb to follow a Shepard, not to be followed behind. You have no one and nothing and everyone expects everything and you can't back up, you can't pause because if you do someone dies and doesn't come back. You have to be a hero, a chosen, a saint. The steps behind you crumble to dust with each step you take forward and the new one is already cracking under your weight. There are only wrong choices. There's no hand reaching for you. God, you were taught, will save and guide you. God knows best. Why is your God looking to you, a mortal human, to be saved, raised and guided? You're a child.

You're just a child.

You just want to go home, wherever that is. You thought it was your God, but She's not exactly helping you out either, is She? She's just disappointed. Like everyone else. Like you.

You're 17. You think it would have been better to never do any of this. It would have been easier to stay, blind and naive. Sometimes you think you should have stayed in heaven. Sometimes you think about the God you killed by not being good enough for it. Sometimes you lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling and pretend you don't exist for awhile. Sometimes you work your body so hard you forget it's there and your mind shuts up and you exist without being you. Sometimes you wish you never asked any questions or read any books. You're 17, but sometimes you wish you were 15, with no idea yet.

You're 17. You wish you were good enough.

[veturiusofserra]

no te puedo olvidar | rafe cameron

rafe cameron x latina!reader

summary: Rafe reflects on his past love and the life he could have had, while finding contentment in his present with Sofia and their children

author note: te quiero muchissimo PR (i’ve never been there

genre: angst

I opened my eyes and stared at the vastness in front of me. The blue sea shimmered, and the gentle breeze brought a refreshing sense of coolness. The idyllic scene was even more perfect with my family enjoying that sunny day on our boat. Leo, Isabella, and Sebastian were playing in the water while Sofia stretched out in the sun, soaking in each ray with a lazy smile. Their cousin Lily, Sarah and John B’s daughter, was with them, and that particular moment brought a wave of nostalgia.

Not nostalgia for my sister, no. She was doing well, taking care of her two kids and her women’s clothing store with the same determination as always. The nostalgia I felt was more complex, like a distant echo of a path that could have been different but never materialized.

Every now and then, I catch myself thinking about the “what ifs”... What would my life have been if I hadn’t forgiven Sofia? If I hadn’t married her, if my children hadn’t come from that love? What if I had held on to my hatred for Sarah and kept my distance? What if I had been braver, changed in time, and not lost the great love of my life?

These are the questions that sometimes haunt us, no matter how hard we try to move on. But life is like this, a tangle of choices that take us down unexpected paths, and that’s why, when I look at my present, I can’t help but feel grateful.

I am happy, I tell myself this every day. But sometimes, my mind wanders, imagining a different “me” who would have built a future beside her, beside another love. Not Sofia. No, that story is different. It was her... the woman I dreamed of growing old with, the one I imagined seeing our children play on places like this, growing up, building a life together. But she’s gone now. And now, she only lives in my memories.

“Dad, don’t you want to come in? The water’s really nice.” Isabella’s sweet voice interrupts my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. She looks at me with her blue eyes, so much like mine but with a touch of her mother’s. Isabella, my precious daughter. Her existence was like a new beginning for me. And, ironically, her name had been chosen many years ago, in another life, with a woman who doesn’t even know about my daughter, but who lives in my memory. Our daughter would have been Bella too, "the most beautiful of all," as we used to dream.

“This old man isn’t quite in the mood to get in, but enjoy it for me. And don’t forget to use the floaties.” I smile, trying not to show the whirlwind of thoughts that’s still forming inside me.

She’s my carbon copy, what more could I ask for? She’s my greatest accomplishment. From the moment I found out she existed, I changed completely to be worthy of her love.

Sebastian, our youngest, is 11 and as stubborn as they come. His sun-bleached blond hair and his passion for surfing remind me of how I was when I was younger. He has Sofia’s lightness and smile, but the stubbornness... ah, that he got from me. Then there’s Leo, our Alexander, better known as Leo. 17. He’s the most introspective of the three. With his always-messy hair and nerdy demeanor, he loves the sea, water, the ocean. He’s the reason we are visiting Puerto Rico. Leo reminds me of Wheezy, the way he expresses himself and gets lost in his own thoughts.

In a way, I love them more than I can explain. They are the best parts of me, everything I’ve always dreamed of having. And even though the past still haunts me, even though I can’t let go of the image of a woman I’ll never see again, what I lived with Sofia, the children we have together... that gives me a sense of purpose that keeps me grounded.

—

“Rafe, it’s time to go!” Kelce’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. I roll my eyes and take another sip of beer. The heat was unbearable, and I had no idea who the genius was who let the drink get warm.

It was a party night, the kind where you don’t really know why you’re there, but you end up going just because. Kelce and Top were excited, and of course, I was tagging along. Someone had to keep those two in check, as always.

The music was loud, the heat annoying as fuck, and the party’s vibe was tepid at best. Until she arrived. She, who would turn the night into something completely different. The most beautiful, the most fascinating. The mermaid of the seas of Latin America, with her slender body and smile that could melt any resistance. She had something in her presence that destabilized everything around her, and, as always, I found myself lost in her orbit.

“My future wife is here. I can’t leave her alone.” I said, laughing, already feeling like an idiot but unable to resist. The irony was that Sofia was also at the party, but, at that moment, that woman was the only one who existed for me.

And it was there, at that party, that I found the courage to approach her. It was there that she smiled at me for the first time, her eyes sparkling and a laugh full of promises. She was willing to teach me how to dance salsa because, according to her, anyone who hung out with her had to have rhythm — even white boys like me.

And believe me, it was impossible not to fall for her.

In the following meetings, dancing became our language. I was a complete disaster, with no rhythm at all, but she was incredibly patient. She taught me gently, telling me I was learning fast, when in reality, I could barely keep up with her steps. With each compliment, my heart raced.

But, as with all love that starts strong, it fades when reality pulls us apart. She left the island, in search of what the world had to offer, and I... I stayed behind, with no choice but to cry and let her go, as I always had. The last thing she said to me was: “I’ll come back. I’m leaving my heart here, but I’ll come back to get it, okay?”

It’s been 25 years. She’s probably learned to live without the piece of herself she left with me. I, on the other hand, have never been able to find peace without her.

—

The night wore on, and we decided to go to dinner on the island. We docked the boat at the marina, and we got ready for dinner. Sofia looked stunning in a green dress, which made her eyes shine even more. Bella and Lily were gorgeous in their white dresses, and the boys, as always, in linen shirts and pants, both elegant and casual.

The seaside restaurant was cozy, the kind of place that made you feel at home, even if you were a stranger. The soft light, the music in the background, the scent of the sea in the air. The boys decided to play in the game room, and Sofia accompanied them, curious. I sat at the table, observing the surroundings, when a conversation caught my attention.

I heard the voice of a woman with her children. The boy, about 8 years old, seemed to be pleading for a dog, while the mother, patient, explained that he still needed to learn to take care of the pets they already had at home. It was a simple conversation, but it touched me strangely, like an echo of something I already knew. The dynamic felt familiar, and somehow, I felt like a part of that scene.

And then he appeared. The man of the family. She stood up, turned, and I realized. The familiar voice. The smile, that smile. I froze. My body recognized her before my mind did.

It was her. The woman I never managed to let go.

In that moment, all the “what ifs” that haunted me, all the unanswered questions about what could have been, came rushing back. I knew life didn’t offer second chances. And, as much as I tried to ignore it, the truth was simple: she still lived inside of me, like a piece of a story that never ended.

And maybe it never would.

I could stand up, casually say, “Hey, long time no see.” I could walk up to her, haunt her with the weight of what time doesn’t erase. Plant doubts in her feelings, bring to the surface everything we left unresolved, without answers, without closure. The idea of making her question what we were, what could have been, would, in a way, be an act of silent revenge. But instead, I stand up and head toward the game room, where my family is.

My family. They are what I have left.

I could have taken another path, but I chose this one. And, in a way, I feel at peace with this choice. As if, deep down, I know I have to keep living my life, without the “what ifs,” without regrets. I lost my sun, and, as much as that burns inside me, I still have the moon. A moon that glows and keeps me company in the lonely nights when her memory comes back with force. Maybe, in another life, our paths will cross again, and who knows, we’ll be what we couldn’t be here.

Because, deep down, I know I’ll never be able to erase her from me. She will always be a part of what I was, what I am.

Maybe I won’t have the “forever” I imagined, but I have this memory of a love that was whole while it lasted. And even though the pain of her absence stays with me, I will keep living, loving, breathing, dancing. As if, in every movement, in every step I take, she is still with me, in the beat of my heart and in the rhythm of my life.

I know time will heal me, but it won’t erase what we were. I will keep loving, even in silence, even if she doesn’t know. Because I can’t forget you, and maybe I never will. And that’s okay. I know that, even if the path has been lost, what I lived with you will be what I carry with me until the end of my days. Like a song that, even after many years, never stops playing.

Dividers by my dear @tsunami-of-tears

It’s weird the way I write? Because I write in Portuguese and then translate it to English.

[ckret2]

Here’s an odd question that I don’t know if you’ve answered yet, but what’s bill’s mental age? Like I know he’s older than our universe, but with the subject of mental maturity and all that I personally think he’d be between the mental age of 14 - 17 18, young enough to still be classified as a child, but not old enough to be seen as an adult. Or maybe like 23

If a 90-year-old who's lived a full normal life and had a career and everything still screams at servers when they get his order wrong, because he's figured out that everyone bows down to him and does whatever he wants when he screams, is he "mentally" a child? Or is he just an asshole? I think he's just an asshole.

Bill's not Peter Pan. Immortality didn't magically freeze his mental development. "Bill acts immature" doesn't mean "he literally has the mind of a child," it means "he's repeatedly chosen not to do the hard mental & emotional work to become a better person even though he could have." In many ways he's emotionally stagnant, but not "emotionally stagnant" in a magical way; "emotionally stagnant" like a full-ass adult who still thinks getting what he wants is more important than treating other people with dignity and respect because he's never faced consequences. In other ways, he thinks, acts, and feels like he's extremely old. Even if he'd become immortal as a 5-year-old, there's no way in hell you could call him a mental 5-year-old now.

But he didn't become immortal as a 5-year-old. As I write him, Bill physically lost his body and became immortal around age 20. No matter if you're trying to judge him by his present-day age or by the age he lost his body, he's an adult.

Beyond "that's an adult," I'm not gonna try to compare his mental age to any human developmental milestones. Being a trillion just makes it nonsensical. He's got traits from every age.

[ariestarfairy]

Did Mystra Groom Gale?

My answer to that is, it's complicated, or perhaps not in the conventional way that people tend to think grooming happens. When I see posts about Gale being groomed it's accompanied by the assertion that Mystra found Gale when he was a child and was his mentor first. From a timeline perspective this doesn't make sense, we would have to throw out so much lore. Mystra was murdered by Cyric in 1385 initiating the Spellplague, she didn't come back until the events of the Sundering, so around 1479. Baldur's Gate 3 takes place in 1492. The earliest she could have met Gale would have been 1479/1480 which gives us a time frame of their relationship possibly being around 11-12 years. If we conclude that Gale is ~30 years old then the youngest Gale could have been is 17. If we conclude that Gale is ~35 years old then the youngest Gale could have been is 22. This lines up with Gale referring to himself as a very young man, not a child, when the events of their relationship took place. Also Gale makes another comment that suggests that he likely wasn't a child during his relationship with Mystra. If you romance Gale, he remarks that he had lovers before Mystra, but not after. If we assume that Gale met Mystra as a child then Gale would have to be much younger than we think he is. Now onto the subject of Mystra and Gale's relationship, adult grooming is a thing and the power imbalance is very real. A teacher getting into a relationship with a student is also problematic in any relationship where there is a teacher and student dynamic. Mystra has a history of changing and removing abilities from her servants and chosen, often times without their consent. This clearly illustrates an exploitative relationship. Also Gale, in all of his naivety of youth, perceived his relationship with Mystra way differently than Mystra did. Mystra has many chosen and most of them do not know one another. He thought she loved him, but he was amusement for her for a time until he messed up and she denounced him. Not only that but in order to maybe, possibly, earn her "forgiveness" Gale has to kill himself and even then forgiveness isn't assured. That's a steep price to pay. If you think Mystra is a good soul and Gale is a horrible person who stomped all over her boundaries, then you you need to learn more about Mystra's gross meddling with mortals. She is by no means innocent and has not only stomped on boundaries, she has done things that cross way over into non-consensual. The Gods are gross, Mystra is not an exception because she's a Goddess and presents as a woman, she's not vulnerable nor is she helpless. She is in the position to exploit and demand and she does it frequently. What also really gets me is how Gale gets labeled as being manipulative and abusive and Astarion is a beacon of perfection. He's not, he targets your character just to manipulate them, and that is his MO for a huge chunk of the game. His tragedy and changing over the course of the game doesn't reverse that, but it's somehow overlooked? Of course you have to view a person in terms of a snapshot. Looking at Gale based on a snapshot within his relationship with Mystra does not make him toxic and it does not mean that he was the abuser. Of course because Astarion was abused by a man, it's a different story, but Gale is a male character stepping on a woman's (Goddess) boundary, so he's necessarily toxic. It doesn't occur to people who play BG3, who have very little knowledge when it comes to the Gods in Faerun that Mystra is truly toxic and that a man can be abused and manipulated by a woman (Goddess) . Don't misunderstand, I love Astarion just as much as I love Gale, but I think it's a double standard to vilify Gale (who WAS mistreated by Mystra) and lionize Astarion while ignoring his machinations towards you in the beginning. Astarion is a classic case of hurt people hurt people, it explains his behavior but it shouldn't be ignored in criticisms of other characters. He's not perfect, if he were he would be boring and not nearly as interesting.

[uracutieraka]

Do I Wanna Know?

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Oh, crawlin' back to you

Ever thought of callin' when you've had a few? (Goes both ways)

'Cause I always do

Maybe I'm too (Sorta hopin' that you'd stay)

Busy bein' yours to fall for somebody new (Goes both ways)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Lev Haiba x F!reader

Tw: Angst! Mentions of sex! FWB to lovers!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Synopsis; You and lev connected through mutual friends one night at a party back in high school. Eventually you gained some traction on the popular website 'Tumblr' and Lev becomes a model. After a few years of him running to you whenever he's home , you finally call it quits.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

If you could tell your 17 year old self going to that college party with your friend Kenma and his other friends would lead to this, you probably wouldn't have gone.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 10/31/2016 11:28 P.M. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You knew who Lev Haiba was, how could you not?

He was 6'4 and half Russian. Not only that, but he was friends with all your friends basically.

He had tried talking to you many times before but you were quick to shut him down.

"Hey, Y/n right?"

You look up from the liquid sloshing in your paper cup at the sudden voice.

"Oh! Hi! Lev! What are you doing here?" You ask, smiling up curtly at him.

"Kuroo and kenma, which weirded me out. Not Kuroo, he always tries to convince me to come out, but Kenma asking sold it for me, because he never asks me to come to stuff, he normally fights against it."

You watch his jaw as the words leave his mouth, not even you could deny how attractive he was.

You look back up at his eyes when he finishes talking.

"Wait did you say Kenma asked you to come?" You ask, an eyebrow quirking up on your face.

"Yeah! Weird right?" He laughs a bit, closing his eyes and putting a hand on the back of his neck.

You felt a sense of betrayal raise in you for a moment before deciding to take advantage of the opportunity that was now presented to you on a golden platter.

"Yeah, super weird.," You raise your cup to your lips, a smirk tugging at your lips and you throw the rest of the sour liquid in it back into your throat. "So listen, Lev, I think I know why Kenma asked you to come."

He raises a bottle of beer up to his mouth, giving a 'Hmm?' as a response. After he swallowed he spoke. "Why?"

"Well because I told him that I think you're hot as fuck."

Lev was used to girls practically throwing themselves at him, but with you it was different.

He could've sworn you hated him up until now. The way you constantly made a point to avoid him in school, or around your friends, even after 2 years of him being around.

Right now though, he felt like prey and you were the predator.

He thought about how this must've met that all those times you ignored him, rolling your eyes as you turn your back to him, you were really just plotting on him.

"Those are some crazy mind games you're playing girl." A small smile tugs the corners of his lips up.

"Gotta keep ya' on your toes."

He's so tall and handsome that you think you might die.

You in fact weren't trying to play mind games with him, but you were always just too nervous to talk to him. You didn't even mean to be mean to him.

He looks around the room, awkwardly shoving his hands into his front pockets of his jeans.

"I like your outfit." He leans over to say to you, due to the increasing volume of the music.

It was simple, nothing special.

You scanned him over, eyes locking with his belt buckle.

"Hermes? I didn't realize you had it like that Haiba."

He's still leaning down close to you.

Your hand reaches out, fingertips brushing over the gold emblem.

You can hear his breath catch in his throat, causing a small giggle to escape your lips.

"Lets get out of here? Yeah?"

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 8/13/2018 !:15 P.M. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Your phone has been ringing back to back for the past 10 minutes, but you had chosen to ignore it.

Preoccupied in posting the right photos to your Tumblr and instagram.

Though it was getting hard with how frequently his contact was popping up on your screen.

You sigh and fold, answering his call.

"What?" Your voice is harsh, and obviously annoyed.

"Woah, calm down girl!," You grunt causing him to sigh and continue speaking. "What'cha doing?"

He's so casual it's pissing you off.

"Trying to post but you keep spamming my phone so I can't. Asshole." You finish with a scoff.

"Well, I'm sorry.," a brief moment passes before he finishes. "Let me see you. I'll be back in town tonight."

You hum, mulling the idea over in your head.

"Where you at now?"

"I was in Paris but I had a layover so right now i'm in South Korea. My flight takes off in 2 hours, then its a straight shot from there, so I'd be able to pick you up around nine?"

"How long have you been flying for?"

"Like 16 hours. So I'll be about a full day of flying by the time I get home."

"Just come over when you get back?"

"Ok, I miss you."

Your heart hurts at his words, you know he doesn't mean you, he means your body.

"Miss you too, I'll see you tonight." You're quick to hang up the phone before he can even say anything else.

Rushing around to finish your post so you can clean up your apartment and yourself.

You ordered Levs and yours favorite takeout from a local shop down the street from your apartment as soon as he text you he was on the way over.

Applying a layer of gloss you pop your lips at yourself in the mirror.

is this too much?

You're in a cute flowy babydoll dress with some lettuce trim above the ankle socks to match.

hair neatly curled with a barrette pinning one side of your hair out of your face.

A knock at your door shuts down any doubts in your mind about your outfit choice.

You open the door and there he stands, so tall and lean.

He smells as good as always too.

You're quick to take notice of the golden watch on his wrist. It's new.

"Ah, you noticed?," He moves his arm out so you can get a closer look at the watch. "It was a gift from my agency, it's a Rolex."

"Yeah I see that." You move to the side so he can come into your apartment. He does and you shut the door.

"Wow, I like what you've done with the place." He says looking around.

"Thanks," you trail over to him slowly. Wrapping your arms around him from behind you inhale his smell. "Foods on the way."

He brings his large hand to smooth over your forearm that's wrapped around his front. He peels your grip and turns around to face you.

"You look really good." He says. His big hands move to cup each side of your face and you melt into his touch.

He can't help but flush a bit at the way you bat your eyes up at him.

"You're so cute n/n!" His hands begin mushing your cheeks together and you fight to escape his grip.

Another knock at the door makes him give up as you go to answer it.

"Way to ruin the moment Lev!" You say as you open the door, rolling your eyes as you turn away to face the driver for the food.

He takes a deeper look at your apartment, the last time he was here was six months ago when he and few of your friends helped you move in.

He stayed the night then, but you hadn't had much in here but boxes and your mattress.

Lights hung around the living room, creating a soft glow.

And incense burning on a small side table by your sofa.

A tapestry hangs behind it on the wall.

Photos are framed, hanging all over your walls and decorating your tables.

One in particular catches him off guard. It's you and him, a year ago at a party. Kuroo had snapped the photo of the two of you drunkinly dancing together. Your head thrown back as you laugh, him looking at you with a goofy grin on his face. Glow sticks around the both of your wrists and necks. Glitter eyeshadow spread all around your eyes and spreading down your face.

It was at some random party you dragged him and Kuroo to one weekend.

It was one of the last times you two partied together.

That photo also helped boost your Tumblr popularity.

He chuckled slightly at the memory of you coming to him excited your post had gotten over 200 'notes'.

Then 500, then 1000, then 10k.

You slowly built your fan base from there, littering your page with more aesthetic photos.

Most of them were you and Lev doing dumb things together at parties, or him and you posing in your mirror taking selfies.

Then when Lev got signed to a modeling agency after graduation, he built a fan base of his own.

Eventually people made the connection that he was the boy in all your photos.

Earning the both of you more popularity, and causing rumors to fly like wildfire.

"Earth to Levvvvvvvvv!" You say waving your hand in his face.

"Sorry! Jetlag."

"Whatever weirdo, dinners here."

He follows you to the kitchen, like a lost puppy dog.

"Go sit at the table, what're you doing?"

"Don't you want any help."

"No, go sit down." You push gently at his side and he takes the hint, throwing his hands up in defeat and turning to go sit down.

You emerge a few moments later with 2 plates and forks, carrying the bag of food in your other hand.

Setting everything down he goes to grab a plate but you're quick to swat his hand away.

He retracts quickly and lets you set the plate and fork down infant of him.

"Let me do this for you Lev." Your voice is basically a whisper and you smile softly looking at him.

You plate his food for him and do the same for yourself.

Sitting down in the chair next to him, you turn your body out so you can properly face him.

He takes a giant bite of his food, moaning at the taste.

"Oh my goddddd, this is so fucking good. They have me on this stupid diet while i'm doing all the runways and I can't stand it."

You giggle softly at him and take a bite of your food.

After a few minutes of quick glances at each other and giggling at his antics while you ate he speaks again.

"I miss this."

You nearly choke a bit on your food.

You look back at him and clear your throat after swallowing.

"Well, you're the one who chose this." A dry chuckle follows your comment.

"Yeah. You're right."

The rest of that night continues smoothly, him talking about his travels and the highs and lows of modeling, you talking about recent internet drama and your affliction with starting a YouTube channel.

He convinces you to do it.

It ends with him in your bed, as always.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 4/8/2019 2:23 A.M. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A loud buzzing wakes you up from your sleep.

Groggily tipping your eyes you see a familiar contact on your screen.

"Hello?" Your voice is raspy and filled with sleep.

"N/n?" You've never heard him sound like this, so you sit up allowing yourself a moment to decide what to say next.

"Where are you?"

"Montreal."

"Are you okay?"

He sighs and a moment of silences passes through the line.

"No."

"What happened."

"It's dumb. I shouldn't have called it's late for you."

"I don't care Lev. What's wrong?"

"I just, I really fucking miss you." His voice breaks towards the end of his sentence.

You two hadn't spoken as much since he left again eight months ago.

A call or two and a handful of messages was the extent of it.

"Come home then."

More silence follows your solution.

"I can't n/n... I have so much going on here, all these contracts to fulfill."

You can tell he's frustrated by his tone.

"I can't help you if im hundreds of miles away Lev."

"I always loved how blunt you were." You can here shuffling on the other end of the line, assuming he was getting into bed.

"I miss you too." You say quickly.

"Come with me. Your lease is almost up?"

"I can't just leave, I have a life here, things going on."

"N/n...Please I need you."

"Lev.," your tone becomes stern. He sighs into the mic. "You've had years to do something and you haven't. You can't just call me on a whim and tell me to drop everything."

He knows it's selfish to ask you to leave everything behind.

"At least come visit?"

"Fine."

That's how five days later you ended up on a flight to Barcelona. Lev had this way of drawing you in and making you do things you knew you shouldn't. Such as hastily plan a trip to see your longtime situationship across the globe.

Landing you send him a quick text.

'finally landed :p'

A quick reply from him catches you off guard.

'me too. will meet you at the hotel.'

You gather your bags and make your way to the front door, ready to get as far away from this airport as possible.

Catching a taxi you're grateful for the 3 years of Italian and spanish you took in high school.

You arrive at the quaint inn and became thankful he let you pick where you two were gonna stay at.

Finally getting your key you make your way to the room, its small, with a small balcony over looking the city. Two beds sit in the small room.

Laying your things out on the bed closest to the balcony you stake your claim of it.

You decide its best to shower.

Pulling clothes and your toiletries bag from your suit case you make your way to the bathroom, taking a to shower.

You slip on a flowy skirt and small tank-crop top.

Leaving the bathroom you jump at The giant mans presence.

"You could've text me or came in to say hi or something! Jesus!"

He laughs and stands up walking over to you.

He's quick to pull you in a giant bear hug. He shuffles backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed, allowing him to sit. You shuffle in-between his legs and wrap your arms around his neck.

a soft kiss lands on his cheek as you pull yourself to hug him again.

His hands trace up and down your hips, slowly and softly.

He hums when you pull away and instead run your fingers through his hair.

"Missed you," an airy huff leaves his lips as you use your nails to scratch the back of his head gently.

"What's new?"

he gives you an eye roll and shoves himself face first into your stomach.

You guys stand like this for a bit, just enjoying the other persons presence.

The week goes by quickly, and on the last night he decides to drop a bomb on you and ruin everything.

You're both laying in your bed, entangled with each other, both naked under the thin sheet.

He moves so he can roll on his side and look at you, you do the same.

His fingers trace the side of your face before he moves some loose hair out of your face.

"Y/n."

You feel a pit of anxiety in your stomach at him saying your name.

"Lev?" you say back quiet, unsure of what he would say next.

"So here's the thing," He drops his hand to yours that's laying palm flat against the mattress. He squeezes it before letting go completely. "My agency thinks it would be really good for my career if I date another model."

You sit up, holding the sheet to cover your body, he follows your movements and sits up with you.

"What?" Your voice is shaky. You can already feel the tears prick in your eyes.

"It's not like we can't still see each other!"

You turn away from him slightly.

"How long have you known?"

You can see him slightly slap his face with his hands before speaking again.

"It's why I called you."

he knew for almost two fucking weeks? And he dragged you out here just to dump you?

"What the fuck Lev?" You stand up and quickly gather your clothing off the floor, rushing to the bathroom to get dressed.

he stands up to follow you but you're quick to slam the door and lock it.

He rattles the handle before you can here his hand smack the outside.

"Y/n? Come on lets talk about this."

"You literally did all of this for what? To tell me you can't be with me anymore?"

"It's not like we were ever together though."

You feel the anger brewing inside of you at his words.

You fling the door open and he leans back quickly.

"Then what the fuck have we been doing?"

You step forward causing him to take a step back.

You rush over to your suit case with an arm full of your bathroom stuff. Shoving everything in.

Tears burn hot on your face.

"What are you doing?" His voice sounds hurt but you don't care.

"I'm just gonna go to the airport."

"Your flights not until tomorrow afternoon?"

"So what?"

"So you're going to sit there for almost 20 hours?"

"I guess so."

"You're being rash."

You turn quickly at his statement and stand up walking over to him.

"You fucking played me. Three fucking years for fucking nothing! I've been working with nothing but scraps! You leave after high school then never call or reach out unless you're home and able to fuck!" Your finger is poking his chest hard.

He grabs your wrist and throws your arm down.

"I had to go!" He's now yelling, anger and hurt on his face.

"No you didn't there are plenty of opportunities back home!"

"No there aren't! This is different!"

You fold your arms and scoff.

"So what? You're just gonna get to go around with some hot model on your arm and flaunt her and be her boyfriend while I just, what? Wait for you to call me after almost eight months of nat talking because you want to fuck?"

He puts his face in his hands and groans loudly.

"No, y/n. I don't want that."

"Then what do you want?"

He sits on the bed and sighs. Looking up at you.

You're so beautiful his chest hurts when he looks at you.

You have big sad eyes, mascara running down your face. Your lips are slightly puffy from crying and you and him making out earlier.

A few light hickeys trail over your chest and neck.

"I just want to do one thing right."

You wipe your face off and take a deep breath, sitting down next to him.

You lean your head on his shoulder as you reach out and pull his hand into your lap. Fingers tracing the back of his hand lightly.

"You need to focus on your career." You place his hand back in his own lap and stand up, looking slightly down to see him.

He looks up at you and goes to speak, probably argue with you, but you're quick to cut him off.

"Lev, I care about you a lot. So please, do this for me?"

He can tell you're sad just saying those words, but if he argues he knows you'll leave angry at him.

"I am so fucking sorry. This is temporary. I'll come back to you."

You sigh and look up at the ceiling, fighting the tears that are treating to spill again. You blow out and finally look back down to him.

"That's not fair."

You're right. It's not fair.

His hand goes out to touch you but you dodge it, moving away from his touch.

You notice the way his face flashes with hurt at your actions.

You want to reach out and apologize, holding him and telling him everything will be fine. That you'll wait.

You don't.

"Please, I can't just lose you." His voice is soft and broken. He's pleading with you.

"Haiba."

He feels sick to his stomach and the formality.

Tears prick his eyes and he knows what you're going to say next.

"Just hold me one more time. Please?" His eyes are heavy with guilt so you fold.

Crawling back on to his lap, fingers tracing shapes into the soft skin on his cheek.

You guys lay like this for an hour.

The next morning you leave before he wakes up, not wanting to face him.

You don't speak to Lev Haiba for 3 years.

You guys still like each others posts, but nothing more than that.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 7/20/2022 5:15 P.M. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You're in the old gymnasium of your high school, champagne flute in hand.

You spot a waiter heading your way and motion for him to come over.

As he does you quickly chug your glass down and trade him for a new, full one.

Scanning the room you look out at the sea of people you hadn't see or been in contact with for five years.

You finally fully walk out into the crowd to hopefully strike up a conversation with literally anyone.

"N/n?"

You freeze at the sudden nickname.

You hadn't been called that in 3 years.

Slowly turning you make eye contact with a suited chest, trailing your eyes up you instant recognize the man.

"Lev!" You say, heat rising into your face.

You knew this was a possibility but you never expected to actually see him or speak to him.

He slowly looks you over, you look amazing.

A black dress hugs you in all the right places, gold jewelry adorning you. Hair curled and makeup done.

"How are you?" He asks, hoping to catch up.

"Oh, you know, same ol' same ol'!" You shrug.

He's quick to notice the way you drink your whole glass in one drink.

He leans down to whisper in your ear.

"Wanna get out of here?"

You don't know why you say yes.

You knew exactly how this would go.

He has you in the back of a taxi to his hotel.

"So, you and your girlfriend broke up?" You ask, you knew the answer. they broke up a year ago.

"A while ago, so you never got a boyfriend?" A smirk plays on his face but you're quick to swat his shoulder playfully.

"No last time I tried I almost died from a broken heart."

"Really?" His eyes get big.

God bless him, he didn't understand you were talking about him.

Your eyes rake over him, watching as he turns his head to look out the window.

He's stronger than he was a few years ago, you can tell by how his suit tightens with the slightest movements of his arms.

You can't help yourself as you reach over and run your hand against the fabric hugging his bicep.

He looks down at your hand then up at your face.

You give him a wide smile.

"Wow! Lev you've gotten so strong!"

He chuckles lowly and a shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of boy-ish and immature attitude he once had had gone away over the few years you hadn't seen him.

Now a more grown, and mature aura seeped off him.

It wasn't hard to feel the difference in your classes.

You still had fringed and colored hair. Nails short but colorful, charms and designs filling them up.

You had gotten more piercings and tattoos too, he could see them due to the high leg slits and low-cut neck line of your dress.

He loved the way you always had too much jewelry on.

Chunky rings on every finger, some having more than one.

He's counted five necklaces on your neck and maybe eight or nine bracelets dangling on your wrists.

Your ear is filled with hoops and shiny studs.

He wonders how much money you've spent on body modifications in the past couple years.

The taxi comes to a slow halt in front of the hotel, Lev is quick to pass a 100$ bill to the man.

"Lev! Was that American money?" You loudly whisper as you join him at his side to walk into the building.

He laughs as he holds the door open for you.

"Yes!" he finally responds.

You open the next door and make a point to bow and point towards the lobby of the building.

He sighs and nods his head with a smile as he walks in.

You giggle slightly and follow him to the elevators.

One is quick to arrive, you both are quicker to enter it.

You noticed that the closer you get to being truly alone together the faster you two start moving.

As soon as the doors shut you pounce on him.

Grabbing his collar and quickly pulling him into you, crashing your lips together.

He grunts a bit before allowing his hands to slide down your hips until he stops on the back of your thighs.

He lifts you up quickly, and now it's your turn to gasp in shock.

You feel your dress slide up your legs so as to allow you to wrap them around his waist.

You deepen the kiss as he uses his large hand to hold your back up.

You don't know how long you continue to do this but it seems like 30 seconds until the elevator dings, signifying your arrival to his floor.

He doesn't set you down but decides to to carry you.

You laugh as you tell him to put you down, he nods with a quick 'no.'

You leaves quick kisses up the side of his neck and face.

He's laughing too. Once he reaches his door he shifts your body weight into one of his hands to fish the card out of his pocket.

You slide down a bit, but you're quick to wrap your arms tighter around his neck, pulling your self back up.

The door chimes and lights up green, he's quick to open it and get inside.

With a swift kick he kicks it shut. Kissing your again.

He leads you to the bed and gently lays you down on it.

Finally you speak again.

"Lev," You sit up leaning your back against his pillows.

"Hmm?" He says facing away from you, standing by a chair and loosening his tie.

"Earlier, in the taxi when I brought up almost dying of a broken heart?"

He now faces you, slowly walking over to the bed.

"What about it?" He asks softly.

"You know I was talking about you right?"

He stops moving and just stares at you.

A sigh escapes his lips as he sits on the end of the bed facing away from you.

You crawl forward and sit on your knees behind him.

Hands slowly brushing over his shoulders before you wrap them around his neck loosely. pushing your chest flush against his back, head resting in the crook of his neck.

You feel him shiver when you blow out a bit of air against his ear.

He clears his throat and responds.

"Yeah, I figured."

He sounds sad, and disappointed.

He leans his head back at a right angle so he can slightly look at you.

"So, basically," He watches as you pull off of him and sit back on your knees. Wiping your hands over the material of your dress. "I don't know if I'm really in a place to get involved with you like that again."

He now turns his long torso so he can face you fully.

His face drops in a pout and it reminds you of him when you two were 17.

You watch as his face goes from upset to excited.

"Well, could you get involved with me if it was more than what it was last time?"

You drop your jaw and pop and angry eyebrow up, scoffing at the question.

You then cross your arms and roll your eyes.

His face drops again, unsure why you would react this way.

"What?" He asks.

You let out a loud sounding 'Ughhh' before answering him.

"How are you going to play me for three years, drop me for some random model your agency wants you to be with, then show up at our high school reunion after 3 years just to try and finally go out with me for real?!"

He's silent for a minute before dropping his face into his hands and groaning.

He finally looks back up at you with sorry wide eyes.

"When you say it like that it sounds bad n/n!"

Your face gets hot in anger as you move off the bed to stand up.

"Uhm, newsflash, Lev, it was, no is bad!"

He looks up at you now.

"I know, but listen to me okay?"

You turn your nose up at him and cross your arms again.

He scoffs loudly but continues to talk.

"I fucked up, like really, really fucked up with you."

You now look down at him, a quizzical eyebrow popped up.

"I'm listening." You say.

He chokes back a small laugh at your dramatics.

"And I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness. Like at all. But I just need you to know that I am sorry for everything. You deserved someone who treated you so much better than I did.," He stops, taking in a deep breath before reaching out for your hand, spinning one of your rings between his long fingers. "Just give me a chance to treat you right. Please."

You had never seen him so vunrable. You sigh dreamily at him and step forward to be closer to him.

He spreads his legs and allows you to step between them. You can hear him take a deep inhale at your scent.

A small smile is on your face as he lays his head against your chest.

You entangle your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp softly.

His hands find your hips, the warmth of them so familiar yet foreign after all this time.

"Hmmmm,' You hum loudly. Poking fun at him. "Well I guess if you were being serious this time around I might consider it, but you have a lot of apologizing and making it up to me to do."

He moves so his chin is resting against your chest bone, looking up at you.

You move your hands to cup his face, thumbs slowly swiping his cheeks.

"I promise I'm for real this time."

You lean down and kiss him.

You would never say this out loud, but you would let him hurt you over and over again as long as it meant you got to hold him, touch him, just be around him.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 07/14/2025 8:30 P.M. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Your keys jingle as you pull them out, shoving your apartment key into the lock.

Shoving the door open you're greeted by your dog, excitedly jumping around and on you.

"Hiii baby," you lean down and let your dog lick the side of your face as you scratch behind its ears.

After a moment you finally stand up and close the door behind you.

Walking in you drop your bag and shove your coat and boots off simultaneously.

You unbutton your jeans and shove them down your legs, stepping out of them as you continue your way to your bathroom. Finally kicking them fully off your ankles, you lift your right leg up behind you, hopping a bit to pull your sock off and quickly doing the same with the opposite leg.

Making your way to the closed bathroom door, you groan realizing you left your preroll in our purse.

You huff and roll your eyes, turning around to go get it. On your way back you make haste pulling your tight shirt off, finally unhooking your bra with a angelic sigh.

Digging your preroll and lighter out of your purse you pad back over to the bathroom.

Pushing the door open you make a point to dramatically step onto the cold tile with a huff.

You start to fill your bath with hot water, appreciating the fact you had a large tub.

You turn on the strand of lights you put around your bathroom mirror, to give a soft light.

You light and incense and open your bathroom window slightly.

Turning around you lean against the sink, popping the small tube open. Pulling the delicately wrapped blunt out.

You place it between your lips but don't light it, instead you pull your underwear off and go to turn the water off. Stepping in you clench tightly on the lighter in your hands at the sting from the hot water.

After a moment you finally sit down wincing at the heat burning your skin.

Once you fully adjust your'e grateful for the cool breeze blowing through the crack in the window. you finally light the end of your blunt and pull in deeply. Taking it back between your fingers you pull it out of your mouth.

Forming your lips in and o shape you look up at the ceiling and blow the smoke out slowly.

Watching as the yellowed smoke thickly and slowly swims up in the air.

You repeat this process 2 more times before you hear the front door of your apartment shut.

loud footsteps tap against the floor outside, then you hear keys drop on the floor, a nasty habit he had that constantly resulted in him losing them.

You roll your eyes and inhale again.

You listen as you hear the distinctive sound of a belt buckle hitting hardwood floors.

Exhaling slowly the footsteps get louder as they quickly make way to the bathroom door.

"Babe?" your boyfriends voice is quiet and soft as he opens the bathroom door slowly.

"Get in here quick so the whole place won't start to smell!" You whisper yell.

"Okay, okay!" he whisper yells back, choosing to only open the door just wide enough for him to squeeze through. You assume this is to prevent one of your three animals from entering.

He shuts the door and you're quick to notice he's only in his boxers and socks.

He sits down on top of the closed toilet seat, leaning over and grabbing the blunt from your hand.

You wave the same hand at him in a slow circular motion.

You watch with doting eyes as he pinches the end of it and takes a long drag off of it.

He hands it back to you and blows the smoke out the side of his mouth.

You take it back and lean over the side of the tub, head resting on one of your arms that's folded. Your other one holding the blunt out away from you. You bed your elbow and take a long drag off of it.

Before you exhale he grabs it back.

It's a roach at this point so you exhale and tell him he can finish it.

You had most of it anyways.

He thanks you and you watch him as he continues to smoke.

Something about this was so intimate for you.

The air was sticky from the smoke and humid from the steam of the hot water, but still an occasional breeze would blow in through the crack in the window, allowing a brief moment of fresh, cool air.

The smoke still lingered, slowly moving through the air in spirals and waves. You watched with heavy eyes as he exhaled for the final time. Putting the end of the paper in the trash can.

He leaned back against the top of the toilet and stretched his legs out.

"Get in with me." You say voice just barely above a whisper.

He hums and looks down at you.

He slides off the toilet into a squat in front of the tub.

He tilts his body to lean the same way your head is resting.

His hand comes up and brushes some of your hair behind your ear before he lays his palm flat against the tops of your head, stroking your head a few times.

"You're so beautiful."

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at his words. He always says stuff in a way that makes it seem like such an obvious fact.

He stands up and quickly discards the few items of clothing he had left. You scoot forward, knees pulled up to your chest, allowing him to slide in behind you. Once he settles down you slide back until you feel his chest. His arms move from the sides of the bathtub to rub your shoulders.

"Missed you." You say with a sigh at the relief of pressure in your shoulders.

"Not as much as I missed you." He's quick to follow it by kissing the side of your face quickly over and over again.

You giggle at the sensation and his words.

"Lev! Calm down!" you say between your laugh.

"What? Can't show my beautiful, amazing, smart, funny, sexy, hot, gorgeous lady some love?"

You laugh and let your head fall back on his shoulder. Kissing gently as his jaw.

"I mean when you put it that wayyyyy." You say followed by a soft chuckle.

"Have I told you how much I love you today?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that crosses your face.

"You are such a corn ball Lev!"

"Only for youuuu" he says in a sing-song tone.

"Whatever weirdo."

"You love it."

You nod your head no.

"You do."

You continue shaking your head.

"You're a liar."

"Uh-uh." You say.

"Yes huh." He mocks.

"Bitch."

He scoffs loudly at your choice of words.

"Skank." He says sassily.

You lean forward so you can turn to face him.

A scowl crosses your face before you stick your tongue out at him.

He makes the same face back at you.

After a moment of this you both start laughing.

You settle back against his chest, lifting your left hand to admire the new nail set you had just gotten done a few hours prior.

Lev's hand comes up to grab yours, messing with one of your rings.

"I think I should get you a bigger diamond."

"What?"

"Maybe get a 5 or 6 carat one?"

You scoff and pull your hand down to rest on your chest.

"Lev, I don't need a 5 or 6 carat diamond. I'm happy with this one."

"Yeah but I like when you wear those big chunky rings, might as well make your wedding ring match."

You hum at his antics.

"Whatever you say baby."

You scoot back a bit and cuddle back into him.

He kisses the top of your head as he wraps his arms tightly around you.

"I'm gonna get you one t'morrow." He mumbles into your hair.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to fully relax into him.

Glad you had a large enough bathtub to let both of you comfortably fit.

It was moments like this that you would normally snap a selfie or two to post but right now you just wanted to experience him.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 17 - Seagull

Edward, 1931

It was a cool evening at Vicarstown Sheds. For once, all the engines were there, a truly rare occurrence ever since Thomas had gotten his branchline and the new Big Sheds had been built at the other end of the line. However, an incident earlier in the morning had left those sheds blocked off, and all six of the Fat Controller’s engines were sleeping out in the old sheds for the night. Percy had even brought up a bunch of old trucks that needed repairing so he could join the others! Though Edward wondered if that was less because the trucks needed bringing up and more because Percy hated being away from everyone, even if he fought with the big engines like a cat does with dogs.

Somehow, the conversation turned towards the engines and their families. James was not fond of talking about his – old scars ran deep – while neither Percy nor Henry had any family to speak of, not in the way that Edward, Thomas or Gordon did.

“I only met my first three siblings,” Gordon said. “They were Great Northern, Sir Frederick Banbury and Flying Scotsman. Fine engines, important and powerful - quite like me.” “Have they ever stuck on turntables?” asked Percy cheekily. Gordon huffed crossly, but didn’t rise to the bait. It was a rare night of peace in the sheds, and none of the engines really wanted to disturb it.

“What about you, Edward?” asked Thomas. “You spent the most time with your siblings out of all of us, didn’t you?” Edward chuckled softly. “I did,” he agreed. “I was part of a group of express engines known as ‘Seagulls’. My specific class was the ‘Larger Seagulls’, and we were very proud engines – we could get into such arguments that you wouldn’t believe! But we were close. I remember when they tried putting superheaters in some of us – we looked so ungainly it was crazy. The Fat Director had a different superheater put in me when I came to Sodor though.”

“Do you have any other stories for us?” quizzed Henry, genuinely curious. The big engine had never had a family outside of the engines on Sodor, and had always been curious about how classmates interacted.

“Oh yes!” grinned Edward. “One time, Princess Louise was coming to visit us, and my brother Number 36 was chosen to take the special train. He was very pleased about it and boasted endlessly until we were sick in the smokebox of him! But then the Princess became ill, and she wasn’t able to make it. Poor 36 looked about a minute away from tears, and we all decided to try and cheer him up, so we convinced the cleaners to dress him up for the big event anyway. They really went for it too! They covered him in flowers and flags and various coat of arms’ until he was barely able to see! The cleaners even took off his front brakepipe to not ‘interrupt’ the decorations. 36 felt better after that. The Princess did come a few years later, but 33 got to pull the train instead of 36 – and boy did neither of them shut up about it! The pair were practically at each other’s funnels for weeks leading up to it, and then it was over and they were right as rain again. I suppose that’s the best story I have – we were a bit boring as a class.”

“Boring?” snorted Gordon. “You have a sibling who pulled a Princess!” The big engine looked very peeved at the idea of an engine like Edward being the one to pull such an important person, but still could only smile when Edward rolled his eyes fondly.

“Yes, Gordon, boring. Or need I mention the fact one of your brothers was in a movie, at the Wembley Exhibition and has recently begun pulling trains all the way up the East Coast?” Gordon snorted in amusement, his eyes softening as he remembered his eager younger brother.

“Scottie always was keen to make an impression,” he hummed gently. “I always wonder what he’ll do next.” Edward could only agree, telling several more mundane little stories about his siblings and their various incidents. But eventually, he slowed, and gazed out towards the station.

“Ah well, I’d best get some sleep,” yawned Edward. “I’ve got a freight train over the bridge tomorrow!” Gordon paused at that, his eyes going wide. None of the other engines seemed to pick up on the subtle shift in their express engine, instead focused on Edward.

“Would you like me to take it?” Gordon asked slowly. The entire shed went quiet, all the engines gazing over at their express engine in shock. Gordon never offered to help with any trains, and especially not goods trains. Edward just smiled softly.

“That’s very kind of you, Gordon, but I can manage. I know you don’t want to be seen with little old me, but it’s been years since I last saw my siblings… and I’d like to. Maybe ol’ Nobby will still be round too!”

Gordon, Henry and James shared a worried look as Edward yawned again and closed his eyes. None of them knew what to say, and spent the rest of the night trading glances and trying to think of a way to dissuade Edward from going over the Vicarstown bridge.

But there was nothing they could do. The next morning, Gordon took his morning express, James set off with a local passenger train and Henry puffed away to pull a heavy goods train that had him huffing and wheezing. Thomas and Percy followed shortly after; Thomas with his faithful coaches and Percy with a line of trucks needing to be taken down the line.

Edward set about preparing his goods train with a little extra puff in his cylinders. He hummed to himself as he pushed the trucks into a line, whistling cheerfully to his friend Trevor the Traction Engine as he trundled by.

Edward set out not too late in the morning, but late enough that the express would be catching him while he was at Barrow.

Edward puffed along without a care in the world. The sun was shining, the grass was a gorgeous shade of green that put Henry to shame, and the sky was an endless blue. There was nary a cloud in sight as Edward rolled along, passing by fields as he headed for the bridge.

The rails were so smooth too, a sign Edward always took to mean he was nearing the Barrow steelworks and riding on its rails. They were always the smoothest rails in the area, and possibly the nicest Edward had ever run on.

That was when Edward rounded the bend and puffed into the yards. Nothing seemed out of place at first, as Edward puffed along, shunting his train away into its proper siding. Only… where were the Seagulls? The class always seemed to be milling around, no matter what. And yet… it was stonily silent. Edward puffed deeper into the yards, following its curves with practiced ease as he headed for where he knew the coal and water to be. If his siblings were anywhere, it would be there… right?

They were not there. Only a few ex-Midland engines milled about, all looking oddly smug. “I didn’t know one of you was in steam,” snorted one, shooting Edward an odd look. Edward scowled.

“Why wouldn’t I be? My controller needs me. Now, where can I find the other Seagulls?” Two of the Midlanders exchanged a look and directed Edward towards a part of the yard he’d never gone before. It was deep behind the sheds, along a short line that took Edward deep into the industrial heartland of Barrow.

And that’s where he found them. Or more accurately, what was left of them. Every single one of his siblings had been scrapped, melted down and ripped apart and twisted and mangled beyond recognition. All of them were there, from peppy young 125 who’d always been so excited to see the day right the way through to 36 himself, his once gleaming paintwork and pride reduced to nothing.

They were all gone.

They were all gone.

Edward was the last of his kind, the last of his class. The rest of them were here, torn apart and awaiting trucks to be loaded into and hauled away forever.

Edward returned to the yards looking very pale, and found Gordon had shooed off the Midlanders. “I’m… sorry, Edward,” Gordon eventually managed. Edward could only reply with a small sob.

“They’re all gone. I’ve lost them all. I didn’t do anything… I want to go home.” Gordon gently buffered up to his friend, and guided him back towards the station. It would look odd – him and the old engine double-heading the express – but Edward needed it.

“It’s ok Edward,” murmured Gordon. “You’ve got us, don’t you?”

It was the last truly kind thing the big blue engine would say to Edward in nearly two decades.  

Back to the Master Post

[aviscarrentals]

Yelp (Prologue) ls2

masterlist next chapter

words: 796

warnings: cursing, implied violence and character death, it's literally the opening scene of scream so use your imagination

notes: i promise these specific characters have been chosen for plot-related reasons. i love kimi, it made me sad to hurt him, but it's worth it for the story i promise 😪 hope you enjoy this teaser! i'll get to working on the main plot real soon i promise 🤞also if you see any mistakes please let me know. english is my first language, i'm just fucking stupid

“Mum, I don’t need a babysitter. I’m literally 18 in August.” … “No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell at you, but I’m not a kid. He doesn’t even do anything; he just sits on the couch, watches TV, and eats all of the good crisps.” … “Yeah, I know I said I don’t need him, but what’s the point of even having him here if he doesn't do anything?!”

“Kimi, pipe down a bit, will ya?”

“See? Did you hear that?” … “I’m not even being that loud!” … “Okay, yeah, that was loud, but it was because I’m pissed off, Mum.” … “That’s not even a curse word!”

“Mate!”

“Sorry, Ralf.” … “What? Are you kidding me? No, I’m not gonna call him ‘Mr. Aron.’” … “Yeah, whatever.” … “Sorry. Yeah, have fun, love you. Bye.”

Kimi hung up the phone and sighed dramatically. “I’m 17 years old,” he whispered to himself in the way one does when they’re angry, but don’t want anyone else to hear, while he fake kicked the wall.

After several minutes of pantomiming a temper tantrum, Kimi sat down at his desk. He could hear the disgusting crunches of crisps being belligerently chomped on by an open mouth from downstairs harmonizing with the bickering voices of Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago on the television.

“Fuck this,” he muttered under his breath and unlocked his phone. Just as his finger was about to press the call button on his friend Ollie’s contact page, the screen went black, except for two green and red buttons and white, medium-sized lettering displaying who was on the other end of the line: “Unknown Caller”.

Spam, he immediately concluded and clicked the red button without hesitation. But, again, before he could select the FaceTime option, the Unknown Caller screen returned. Annoyed, he quickly answered and brought it up to his ear.

“Hello?” he asked tiredly. Maybe it was some distant relative who thought it was his birthday or something?

“Hello,” the voice on the other end echoed.

“Hello? Who is this?” he demanded, already out of patience. The last thing he needed on this already tragically boring evening was to get stuck on the phone for an hour with someone who claimed to have changed his diapers when he was a baby.

“Oh, you know who it is. We’re good friends,” the voice replied, this time with an eerie tone that made his skin crawl.

Before Kimi could answer, the sound of a bowl clattering to the hardwood ground made him turn his head to the open door. “Fucking dumbass,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Excuse me?” the voice seethed.

“What? Oh, not you,” Kimi rushed to explain, “my stupid babysitter.”

“Babysitter?” it asked him, chuckling.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning back in his chair. “Shut up. I meant-”

“No, I know what you meant,” the other line interrupted. “I know all about you…”

This made Kimi sit back up in his chair. “Huh?”

“You heard me,” It simply stated.

“Alright, is this a joke? You guys know I don’t like shit like this; it’s not fun-”

“This isn’t a prank!” the voice hollered.

Kimi fell out of his seat at the sudden noise, hitting his shoulder on the edge of his desk.

“Pardon my tone,” it apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t like when I’m not taken seriously.” Kimi could hear the bitterness seeping in toward the end of the sentence.

“You didn’t startle me,” he lied, getting up from the floor.

“Oh, don’t you try and deceive me,” the voice reprimanded with a snicker. “I see everything.”

Kimi’s heart fell to his now standing feet. “...what did you just say?”

“I said, ‘I know everything.’”

“No, you didn’t. You said…” At this realization, Kimi dropped his phone, not even bothering to end the call, and rushed out of his bedroom. Prank or not, he was freaked the fuck out and wanted to leave. Right. Fucking. Now.

As he made his way down the stairs, he abruptly came to a halt before he reached the bottom. On the floor in front of the couch lay a mess of crushed crisps and a haphazardly tossed wooden bowl from his cupboard. No Ralf. With shaking limbs, he descended the final steps to inspect the scene further.

“Mike! Mike! Mike!”

Kimi turned around so quickly he almost lost his balance. His heart settled when he realized it was just the stupid movie playing on the television. He promptly grabbed the remote and turned it off.

But when he looked at the reflection of the black tinted glass, he could see something behind him. Something out of the ordinary. He squinted to try and make out what it was.

“Aw, you don’t like scary movies?”

taglist (if you would like to be added or removed just lmk!): @gaypoetsblog @koris-009 @feralnando @disneyprincemuke @osbuzz @avaayalaa @faithshouseofchaos @thearchieves @scuderia-piastri @lovelytsunoda @localwhoore @foreveralbon @vroomvroomcircuit

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

J-Hope's Enlistment

❒ genre: Slice of life

❒ words: 1.3k

❒ summary: In which Hobi spends the night before enlisting with Chaeri and Namjoon

❒ prompts requested from the dialogue prompts game: “I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me”

April 17, 2023

The building could hardly be considered a bar, more like a small shack with barely enough room to fit the counter and a few stools. Two tables, each only able to seat two people, took up the rest of the space. Despite its cramped size, they had intentionally chosen this place for the night, needing the privacy it offered.

The walls were made of worn wood and damp stains were scattered throughout, now covered by old movie posters dating back to before any of the three at the bar were even born. The illustrations, faded and worn, were movie posters, many from the mid-80s, and all shared a common theme: nostalgia. Which happened to be a shared feeling among them.

"Guys, I... I can't drink," Hobi hesitated, his fingers uncertainly hovering over the small glass - courteously offered by Namjoon - in front of him. "Tomorrow is an important day, everything will be filmed and I want to be at my—" but before he could finish his sentence, the amber alcoholic concoction disappeared from the trajectory of his fingers that were still uncertain what to do: to drink or not to drink?

Without hesitation, Chaeri next to him snatched it away and downed its contents in one gulp.

"Chaeri" Namjoon's tone held both reprimand and resignation as he watched her eagerly drink both her Andong Soju and Hobi's. 

“I need to be drunk to make it through tonight” she muttered “And you should drink too, you look awful.”

Hobi could not help but chuckle at the situation.

Their leader's normally composed expression was replaced with one of shock, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as if it was the first time the youngest member of their group had spoken to him without the expected respect for someone older.

Namjoon opened his mouth to respond, but then quickly closed it, instead resting his forehead on his open palm and leaning heavily against the counter. "Three more" he finally managed to request from the bartender, who simply nodded and filled three glasses with the same amber liquid as before. 

LATER

He had seen this coming. 

The moment they had suggested spending one last evening together, before it became impossible for who knew how long, he knew it would end like this: in the back of a luxurious car, with him sandwiched between two drunken friends, his shoulders serving as pillows. 

They had laughed and reminisced about the good old days, the first sips of alcohol, the first arguments, and then they had cried. 

Chaeri had ranted about the injustice of their society, how they were forced to endure over a year of grueling training because of an absurd law. 

Hobi didn't want to leave; deep down, she was right. 

But he had no choice. He would have given anything for a thousand more sleepless nights spent with his friends, now his chosen family, rather than fulfilling his duty as a South Korean citizen.

Namjoon was the first to get out of the car once they arrived in front of his residential building, which was the first stop. His legs wobbly from the drive and a few too many drinks.

With an affectionate gesture, he gave Hobi a reassuring pat on the shoulder, promising they’d catch up in the morning, and despite his slightly inebriated state, he also playfully ruffled Chaeri's hair, who was still wearily leaning on Hoseok. Staggering slightly as he stepped out onto the pavement, Namjoon closed the car door with a dull thud.

The car remained stationary for a moment, its engine idling softly, while everyone inside watched Namjoon walk toward the large entrance door of the building. Only when their leader had completely disappeared inside did the driver engage the gears, and the vehicle slowly pulled away.

Several minutes of silence passed in the dim cockpit, lit only by the flickering streetlights that passed the car. "I don't want you to go" Chaeri murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but clear. There was no tremor or drawl in her words, despite all the alcohol she had consumed, only a deep sadness could be sensed.

"First Jin, and now you... who knows who will leave next, and slowly I will find myself alone. I will have no one left. I don't want you to go." Her eyes, sparkling with barely held back tears, met the boy's look, begging, as if she might expect a different answer than the one she already had, as if he might assure her that he was going to stay.

And he wished, with all his heart, that he could.

He wrapped his arm around her, the one Chaeri had been leaning on since they got in the car, pulling her close to his chest in a protective embrace. It was a familiar gesture, repeated countless times during their late-night drives after events that left them both exhausted, when the only sound was the soft hum of the engine.

Chaeri, with her reassuring presence and the fruity scent that seemed uniquely hers, had grown far beyond the girl he remembered. Now, sitting next to him, he could see a fully realized woman, a transformation he had witnessed with pride over the years.

The realization that he had to leave her tightened his heart, a subtle and persistent pain, sharper than the thought of parting from the others. She was his masterpiece, the living testament to the time and love he had invested in her.

She had been his little Chaeri, and he had always been her 'big brother'.

"I don't want to go either" After a pause, he finally spoke up. His breath felt heavy and his throat seemed to have a lump in it, making his voice sound like a faint whisper. He reached out to gently stroke her long hair, trying to offer comfort not just to her, but also to himself.  "But time will pass quickly, and I'll be back before you know it. I'll call you every night, take days off so we can spend them together, and send you all the silly photos I take in that ridiculous uniform. I promise."

Chaeri leaned back from his embrace, her tear-stained cheeks glowing red from the Soju she had been drinking "You better keep that promise" she said, biting her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. "Or I'll personally come looking for you."

Hobi couldn't help but burst into laughter, feeling the tension in his chest melt away, as his own eyes grew watery. "You're not very threatening when you cry" he teased, playfully poking her cheeks with two fingers. 

"And you won't be threatening in a military uniform."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that" Hobi joked back.

"Besides, green is definitely not your color."

"I disagree! I look great in green!"

Chaeri smiled, looking at him tenderly. Playful bickering like that would have been one of the things she would have suffered most away from him. With the palm of her hand she wiped her cheeks "I'm going to miss you"

"I'll miss you too, kid" 

"I know I won't be able to say much in front of the cameras tomorrow, so... I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. For all these years, thank you. Maybe I've never said it before.. but I mean it"

The man felt his heart swell with love once again as his gaze rested on Chaeri, who looked back at him with her big eyes full of affection. They were a mixture of sweetness and melancholy.

He had to squint slightly to contain more tears. It was incredible how he had become attached to her and the other members of the group over the years, how protecting them and caring for them had become his deepest instinct.It had become instinctive for him, a natural extension of his love for them. He never expected anything in return because every smile from them, every moment of happiness or success, had been his greatest reward

"You never had to say it, Chaeri”

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

[thealmightytrashdump]

Can you make some headcanon about his childhood? 🤔 i know he was manufactured so i suppose there were some "standards" he needed to follow at that time.

I like to imagine baby wesker couldn't be a child really. Like he was immediately groomed from maybe 7-8 weeks old to be "superior." Taken from his parents at a very very very young age. Raised mostly likely in a strict competitive environment all his life. No wonder this man has a ton of fucking issues.

First off. Getting chosen/kidnapped/orphaned. They had to select a child with quote unquote "superior genes." I'm halfway convinced they chose upper middle class white children, mayhaps with the 1940s Nazi Hilter Aryan race mindset. Spencer was in an older generation with older generation concepts cough RACISM cough so to speak.

So they obtain the child, in order to do whatever the fuck to him, they erase his birth identity from existence. Scrub him from the world and give him the new name they chose to fit the project. Albert Wesker.

Maybe they even went as far as given him a fake birthdate. Not birth year, but a fake birthday. (Basically canon at this point)

Wesker probably couldn't celebrate any holidays, or maybe all he would get as gifts were expensive reading materials/study guides/office supplies. Maybe the toys they gave him were secretly tests and puzzles and whatnot.

Maybe some of the other Wesker children were different ethnicities and they just didn't make it. So in a twisted sense perhaps that confirmed some prejudices that may or may not have been had by Umbrella's founders.

Of course his caretakers would encourage suitable behaviors and discourage certain idealogies. Not necessarily correcting bad behavior per say, more so correcting any undesirable traits like free will and fun. So maybe even from a young age, he was taught that being cruel was okay, maybe necessary to survive his upbringing. He didn't know better and no one was certainly teaching him good morals. Me thinks he wasn't raised religiously, but definitely could be wrong on this.

Of course being specifically chosen to be in the project means he naturally excelled in a boarding school learning environment. He definitely got some excellent af education.

Maybe he was on the autistism spectrum and they catered/designed his education for him specifically to succeed. Maybe they just abused him hard enough for him to learn how to survive despite any perceived learning setbacks. Either way, he did graduate at 17.

I like to think he was privately tutored but also maybe got some public university experience (where he could've met William), but canonically they supposedly met after he got his degrees and was shipped off to the arklay mountains where he worked under Dr. Marcus, right?

I like to think one of his private tutors tried to unbrainwash Albert and the trio founders of Umbrella stopped that nonsense real quick.

He has to have been raised with the other Wesker children and had to have realized their deaths/project failure was too systematic and put two and two together. For sure, Alex was the favorite of Spencer, and Albert (in terms of the wesker program) was average at best. He was superior genetically to Alex, but she was way more Intellectually advanced. Perhaps, he was an unruly child and needed a stricter lifestyle than Alex did. Either way, this is why Umbrella recuited William in, and tried to pit him and Wesker against each other. It would give Albert a goal to work towards, to strive to be better so to speak.

Albert was, of course, intelligent enough to not make enemies of his peers, Alex and William included. But that doesn't mean he liked them. Or hated them. I think he thought of them as coworkers.

His "friendship" with William (who was not raised to be a really smart sheep) definitely introduce some very interesting concepts to Wesker.

'What if not sheep but instead, a sherpard?' Which sparks his initial interest in learning about Spencer (who at this point imprinted himself on Wesker's psyche) and Umbrella. He was initally content with just getting his "dream job" as a researcher in Umbrella, but eventually begins thinking like "a sherpard" thus makes the deal with an increasingly paranoid Spencer to betray Dr. Marcus.

Of course, that means he's still under Spencer's thumb but he's starting to see the fucked up lamp in his dream bubble of a life. So schemes to get out of it by either: convincing Umbrella to let him join the military for some juicy secret B.OW. testing OR attempting to leave his predetermined life via joining the military.

(This would be around the time the virgin Wesker meets the hot dommy future Jake mommy. Mans never stood a chance.)

Either way, he must've not liked the vibes of the military because he immediately comes crawling back to being a researcher in Umbrella. Maybe due to his military experience, he gets promoted to head of security in arklay and selected to be undercover via S.T.A.R.S. Cap Wesker. Two positions, he most likely disliked heavily.

Keeping in mind, around this time, Alex was off on some island being God, William was making breakthroughs with the G virus, and now there's a new bitch(s) introduced as another rival in his life: Alexia Ashford (and her brother) who creates the T veronica Virus.

I imagine at this point, he's getting burned out, overworked, and basically the lowest asshole on the Umbrella totempole among his peers. I bet his ego was bruised and he just got tired of it.

At this point, he only had the T virus credited to him (and William), and he didn't even create it. Dr. Marcus (and co.) created it. All this man has at this point is knowledge and a ton of research and a killer body that survived one progenitor virus (this has enhanced his immune system and most likely gave him his naturally fit buff hot body.)

When the revived Queen leech Dr. Marcus starts fucking things up in the arklay mountains, this motherfucker's first thought after he realized he couldn't contain the problem (as head of security, Wesker would be the problem solver), he fucking decides to dip. "Bollocks to Umbrella." He says, and cuts a deal with some random ass organization/US military and accidentally dies trying to get some last minute B.O.W. research to sell.

Remember he had William design him a specific version of [Insert virus here](I think it was the T virus with some Wesker goop mixed in) so he probably did that as a failsafe, so he could survive. Though, it was probably untested but at this point, his career has basically imploded, and he knew it.

He literally writes that the arklay mountain and the raccoon city incident was the downfall of Umbrella and it was technically his (and William's) fault. He has nothing to lose (except his life), and everything to gain, if his gamble paid off.

And it did. He survives, and gets called a fucking loser by Chris and Jill and also sergei. Lmao. No wonder he was so smug and petty when next he sees them. Wanting to gloat and show off as much as possible.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Dicentra D. Boa

Content warning going in: implied rape, human trafficking, slavery, implied sexual assault, implied Sa of children, and massacres. It’s not talked in length or in detail but it is alluded to due to the Boa sisters backstory and Dicentra’s conception. I wanted to be sure to give a warning just in case because of the nature of these topics. If any of these themes are triggering please skip past the section labeled “Josephine” and go to “childhood” instead

Also sorry if she’s cringe or Mary sue but she’s my little blorbo and I love her. Writing her is also my excuse to write (and rewrite) about Boa Hancock because I think she’s underrated and I think her character could’ve been handled better by oda (this is in regards to her liking Luffy which is really weird since she’s a grown adult who fell in love with a 17 year old after being victimized through a decent portion of her life by adults)

General information

Name: Dicentra D. Boa.

Following after the flower naming convention of the Amazon lily, Dicentra is the scientific name of the bleeding heart flower. Her name was chosen by Hancock since dicentra’s birth mother didn’t know what to choose

The D. Is gained to her by her birth mother Josephine D. Etheus. Though Dicentra is apart of “the will of D” she has no idea about it due to the fact Boa swore to Josephine that no traces from her would connect back to Dicentra.

Age: 13

Dicentra was born a few hours before the mass breakout of Mary geoise when Hancock was 16.

Race: half-lunarian

Dicentra’s motherJosephine was a full lunarian captured in the massacre of her people. Despite Saturns extermination efforts a few celestial dragons wanted a lunarian as apart of their collection and were able to accomplish this secretly

Being only half lunarain attributes to her white hair and darker toned skin. But along with this it also acts as a reason as to why her wings are so small and why she doesn’t have an eternal spark.

She can’t create fire because of this, but she could control already lit flames if she needed to. But she has not found this out yet

(Fun fact is that whenever in a room with some type of fire, she subconsciously pulls that flame slightly towards herself. Kinda like how sunflowers face the sun, flames direct themselves towards her)

Personality: curious, sometimes oblivious, good hearted, optimistic, overly eager and a bit chaotic

As a young sheltered girl Dicentra is naturally curious of the world and just about anything she can get her hands on. She enjoys soaking in all of the knowledge of the great world beyond the Amazon lily, whilst also secretly yearning to see it for herself.

Another side effect of her sheltered upbringing is the fact she’s very oblivious to things. Whether that be wandering into a bad situation due to curiosity of something that caught her eye or just being unaware of concepts like men not being hideous monsters that’ll kill her (Hancock taught her this lol). Despite her being oblivious to these environmental concerns she’s actually very observant of others emotions when needed.

Unlike her mother’s cold and dominating facade Dicentra is very openly warm to those around her. She often times is found conversing with others around her, joyfully asking about things and recounting new stuff she discovered.

Along with this she can be very eager about whatever catches her eye. Leading her to blindly and stubbornly pursue it even at her own detriment (much to her mother’s and Nightshade concern). This has lead to her acting without foresight and acting on the first thing that entered her mind which can have varied results…like biting someone’s hand

Interests and hobbies: journaling, exploration, drawing, dance and song

Once more due to her interest in the world beyond the Amazon lily Dicentra has taken to journaling all she’s learned. When her mother brings her gifts from far off places she enjoys documenting everything she can about it. Of all subjects she loves writing about the most she enjoys exotic Fish, birds and gemstones the most.

Due to her journaling she ends up exploring places quite a bit. From the city of her home to the jungles and mountains she’ll explore. Some of it from blind interest and from plain eager stubbornness

Something gained from her journaling is her hobby of drawing. Though years of practice she’s gotten decent at drawing, though it’s less out of passion and moreso just for proper documentation.

Her real hobbies are that of song and dance. As a princess Dicentra had taken up many hobbies but the two that stuck with her are dancing and song. She enjoys dancing since it’s an active activity and picking up new instruments to learn and play.

She’s particularly fond of the Erhu (I’m taking in some Chinese inspiration due to the Chinese influence of the Amazon lily)

Habits and quirks: Manners, stiff posture, back issues, lack of shoes, playing with her hands, love of berries/fruits and tendency to put others before her

Dicentra as princess (though that title is moreso just a title since the Amazon lily leadership is based on strength rather than bloodline) she was educated to have proper manners. While she’s a tough and tumble kind of girl she still implores these manners in most social situations until she finds something interesting and throws manners to the wind.

Due to these manners she can sometimes also have a stiff posture in mix with her back pains. Hiding her wings is a hassle for her so binding them along with keeping a certain posture as to be sure their hidden is important. When around those she trusts she lets up a bit and is more relaxed but that’s if they know of her wings. If not she keeps up the posture to be sure they won’t be found

As stated above she gets quite a lot of back pain and jolts of discomfort due to her hiding her wings. It’s an unfortunate thing she has to deal with, something all the boa sisters feels guilty about but know it’s for Dicentra’s best interest in the end.

Despite being taught manners Dicentra can’t stand wearing closed toe shoes. She doesn’t mind sandals but she loves being barefoot much to her mother’s ire. Dicentra loves the feeling of grass and sand beneath her feet.

A nervous quirk she has is that she plays with her hands quite a bit.

Also is a giant sweet tooth for things but especially loves Berries, Fruits and her favourite food of peach buns with a custard filling. It’s definitely due to the D trait.

Another tendency she has is for her to value others above herself. As princess though it’s more of a title she believes that her mom and the Amazon lily comes first. She’ll put down or put away her own feelings and ambitions if it means she can’t help others. It’s the reason as to why she stayed in the Amazon instead of exploring like she wanted, why she asks questions about the outside world and sees glimpses of it through stories and objects instead of pursing it herself.

Relationships: Hancock, Marigold, Sandersonia, Nightshade, Rayleigh and Shakuyaku, Gloriosa, Salome and Ouroboros

Hancock: Dicentra has a very strong relationship with her mom and looks up to her as her hero (for various reasons). She loves her mom deeply for both her kindness and dedication to protecting the Amazon lily. She knows deep down her mom is a lot more tender than she lets on but puts up a front to protect everyone else (and herself). Even though dicentra wishes to explore the world she follows her mom’s rules of staying in the Amazon Lily knowing there has to be some reason as to why her mom is so insistent on it. Along with this she follows her mom’s rules of hiding her back and binding her wings even if it’s uncomfortable (something Boa wishes she didn’t have to make Dicentra do but does it out of necessity). Her favourite activity with her mom is having her mom brush her hair

Marigold: Dicentra loves her aunt Marigold but is sometimes a little bit intimidated by her. Granted she knows her aunt would never do anything bad but Marigold is sometimes too stoic for Dicentra to read which makes her nervous she’s doing something wrong. Unbeknownst to her Marigold very much loves her but gets worried of messing up and internally panics because she overestimated herself. Dicentra’s favourite memory with Marigold is when she taught her how to make flower crowns

Sandersonia: Dicentra loves hanging out with her Aunt Sandersonia. Unlike with Marigold Sandersonia is more in tune with her emotions so Dicentra is able to read her better and therefore know if she’s bothering her. If Sandersonia isn’t busy with something she’ll often tag along with Dicentra’s exploring of the Amazon lily and play games together. Dicentra’s favorite thing to do with Sandersonia is petting her aunts zoan tail

Nightshade (another oc): Nightshade is Dicentra’s sworn guard and protector assigned by Hancock herself. Dicentra sees Nighshade as her closest companion and as a big sister to her. Though Nightshade sometimes gets frustrated at Dicentra throwing caution to the wind and running off she knows that Nightshade doesn’t typically get legitimately mad unless something really bad happened. Nightshade beside the Boa sisters is the only one who knows of Dicentra’s wings and origins, something the bodyguard takes in the upmost seriousness. Dicentra knows Nightshade isn’t her original name but hasn’t pushed about the subject. Her favourite thing to do with Nightshade is playing hide and seek.

Rayleigh and Shakuyaku: dicentra knows very little about these two but does hold them in high regard hearing they helped her mom and aunts. The most funny thing about this though is that she has no idea Rayleigh is a male (boa taught her men were ugly evil creatures lol) . She’s never met them but she hopes to one day do so.

Gloriosa: dicentra sometimes sneaks out to see the former empress of the Amazon despite being a “traitor” to learn more about the outside world. Though she doesn’t like how her mom and Gloriosa don’t get along well Dicentra holds respect for Gloriosa.

Salome and Ouroboros: Dicentra adores Salome and all the snakes of the Amazon. Her fight or flight instinct of bite first ask questions later was somewhat developed due to watching Salome when she was younger. Dicentra has a snake of the same species as Salome named Ouroboros, aptly named for its penchant for…eating its tail all the time. No one has any idea why boros does this but Dicentra loves her beloved snake even if all it does is act as a necklace for her half the time. Half the time people don’t notice they’re alive if not for their occasional blinking. She loves petting the scales of Salome and Ouroboros, absolutely loves the texture

(Meme break before getting to serious stuff. Nightshade is also included here)

Backstory

Prologue: Josephine

Dicentra’s birth mother Josephine was a lunarian born on the red line and raised with her people. She lived atop the red line in peace for many years, she was particularly gifted in being a graceful flyer amongst others her age but lacked control of her flames. Despite the peace at a young age she could tell something was coming somehow, she had a sixth sense for that thing (observation Haki). Eventually when her people were massacred to build Mary Geoise atop her ancestral home she was taken by a celestial dragon who wanted one of her kind as “apart of his collection” even though that wasn’t technically allowed. This all happened when she was 15.

For Years Josephine was kept in a cell, wings broken and unable to conjure flames even if she tried due to being underfed and weak. She’d spent so long being toyed with and abused with no relief but an empty cell to return to when she was finished being “useful”. Eventually though she got cellmate in the form of the young Boa sisters. For the first time in years Josephine felt something as she stared at the young girls, mirror showing her how much of a shell of her former self she was. She used to be young and free, used to be afraid and now she had felt nothing in years. And staring into the fearful tear stained eyes of these girls she swore to herself they wouldn’t end up like her. Broken and empty.

In that cell in the span of months turned to years Josephine would do her best to protect the sisters. Though she could not always protect them she was able to lessen their suffering. She cared for them, began to see them as her own just as they began to see her as a mother in this hell. Through her wings were broken she’d use them as blankets for them in the damp cold of the cell. Josephine would share the little food she had with them. She’d also tell them stories of her people who once proudly flew the skies, sang in hushed tones the songs passed on from generation to generation. Hell had at least become bareable

Eventually much to her own fear and horror Josephine became pregnant. It at some point was bound to happen but all the same it horrified her for the fact she knew her child would be killed. A bastard to celestial dragon was purged for the fact of “tainting” their holy blood, and that was just for normal cases. She was a lunarian, the people they purged and were still actively being hunting down from how that devil gloated about “owning such a rare species”. She had to hid this and hope for the best, and that’s what she did with the help of the Boa sisters.

Somehow hiding her pregnancy was a task in of itself but it had been somehow done, but with that came the actual delivery. Weak and Malnourished as she already was without proper medical care in a dark cell wasn’t a good mix. She’s left at deaths doorstep clinging barely to life after the deed was said and done. The only upside to it all was she felt that sixth sense again, things were changing and her daughters would be free. Before letting herself rest she makes the girls promise to never tell her daughter of her heritage, to protect her and love her as she loved them. Tearfully the girls agree, Hancock vowing she’d raise Dicentra as her own. With how Josephine falls asleep the girls believe her to be dead, and in a way she is…but not fully yet

The mass escape of slaves happens and her daughters flee, through this all Josephine laid on deaths door in her cell. She was ok with dying, had for so long dreamt of such a thing, but anger had let her from not dying quite yet. Half dead and powered only by the knowledge she’d die Josephine gets up. Broken wings crack and move, the pain so blinding it became numb. She had to protect her daughters, had to erase all trace of them here lest a trail is somehow left. And despite never knowing to master her flames she ignites because she herself is the kindling. The already aflame Mary geoise is lit with newer more intense fire that burned to the fire. Josephine burns with mother’s rage and a single wish. Cleanse her homeland with flame just as it was meant to be oh so long ago.

Josephine kills her tormentor and bastard of a man who’s father to her daughter, watches the flames bath him in agony as she holds his face in burning hands. Scarlet eyes glaring down at him as everything burned, her once small flickering flame behind her neck so intense and big it hurt to look at and consumed the background. Flesh melts and blood sizzles in her palms. Josephine dies kneeling on the red earth of her home, staring up to the smouldering sky with broken wings and an outstretched hand to the heavens she so loved. Her scream echoes out among flickering flames and chaos, echoes and reverberates into the sky before turning to nothingness. She burns so intensely that nothing of herself and twenty feet surrounding her body is left besides ash, soot and a trail of bloody feathers littering the ground just outside the crater as her scream of agony faded.

Chapter 1: Childhood from the eyes of a mother

Dicentra grows up on a lie just as everyone else of the Amazon lily does. From the time she could walk and speak she’s told of how her mother and aunts slayed a fierce-some gorgon that had killed her birth mother which led to her being adopted. That gorgon cursed her mom, aunts and herself with a curse bared on their backs. For her mom and her aunts it’s an odd symbol and for Dicentra it’s her wings. But all the same Dicentra knows that her mom is her hero (and though that story is a lie it’s still true she’s her hero) and the young princess stared at her mother in awe and such innocence. It’s something that eats Hancock up inside, that she’s lying to her daughter about everything. Of her wings, her lineage and birth mother and yet she made that vow and she won’t go back in it.

All this leads to though is Hancock being fiercely protective of her daughter, not just for the fact of her blood but because she wants better for Dicentra. She wants her daughter to live happy not plagued by the burden and shame that she and her sisters suffers daily. The memories, the pain, the loss of it all. She wants Dicentra to live the life Hancock wished she had, of never being ripped away from a safe and loving home to be hurt over and over again. It’s why she keeps a close eye on her, especially in the early years where everything is still fresh in her mind of the escape. Perhaps she’s a tad overbearing at times but knowing her daughter is happy and safe within the walls of her nation is all that matters. But as time progresses she does become more lenient towards letting Dicentra do things on her own with the only condition being a bodyguard accompanying her.

At 6 Dicentra has Nightshade assigned as her personal bodyguard and protector. Before then it was randomly assigned guards or Salome who took over watching over the already curious and slightly mischievous young girl. Much to Hancock’s displeasure her daughter takes to running off into the jungles of the Amazon but at the same time she can’t help but be happy her daughter takes her freedom in such strive and not forgranted. Dicentra talks of all range of things she came across once she comes home, from rocks she found to bird feathers pressed in pages. Nightshade with now wild tangled hair standing beside Dicentra posed and proper even with a few leaves and sticks lodged in once straight black hair.

By 7 Hancock decides to have Dicentra be taught proper manners and help her find some hobbies that aren’t just running off into the brush. It’s there that Dicentra finds her talent in Dance and playing instruments, she specifically likes playing the Erhu traditionally played in the Amazon lily. It’s a hobby especially Hancock enjoys because it quickly becomes a source of calm when old memories plague her mind. Perhaps a lifetime ago she would’ve picked up the instrument as well, but now she resides herself to listening to old tunes that would play before that fateful day on a ship leaving home. Whilst she listens she holds her daughter, time seems to slip away and for once all is well for those minutes playing song.

At 9 Dicentra begins to do more things around the Amazon lily. Knowing the jungles area and documenting the plants she finds ends up being useful to apothecaries and doctors on the island. Along with this she starts to also help in delivering things and having a hand in public events. It’s here that she begins to realize what being a princess means even if it’s more a title than anything. To the Amazon lily her mom is cold and respected, the citizens of the island fear and love her and Hancock knows this. They don’t see her compassion behind closed doors but Dicentra does. If her mom is the cold and cool leader that in secret cared, then Dicentra would be a sliver in that door for others to see that kindness. She tells the truth, that her mom asked her to try and find ways to help the other kuja women. As princess the women of the island love her and she notices she means something to everyone there. For the women of the island Dicentra is their kind princess in contrast to their lovely but cruel empress, to Hancock Dicentra is what little hope is left in the world.

At 10 the young princess starts asking Hancock more about the outside world and it leaves the empress silently terrified. They aren’t bad questions, moreso just innocent ones of if places she’d been to were like home. But to Hancock they signify the end. She knew from the moment her bright eyed daughter began to run before learning to walk, began looking out to the sea on the horizon and climbed to the tops of the snake statues overlooking the entire tribe she’d one day be curious enough to leave. That this island would become too small to satisfy her need to see and experience the world. A selfish part of her wished that the luxuries she spoiled her with and the nights in which she’d hug her close whilst promising she’d always be safe here would disway her, but Hancock always knew because of the spark in her eyes that she’d one day leave. It terrifies her and yet she knows one day she’ll have to because she can’t take away Dicentra’s freedom just as hers had been taken. But for now she was safe, leaving was in the future but now she was safe in her arms.

By 11 Dicentra waits by the docks as Hancock sets off to yet another warlord meeting that would go nowhere. Hancock when her daughter was younger would leave her with Sandersonia as she and Marigold would set off into the ocean. But Hancock decides that this time her daughter was old enough to last a few days on her own (despite how terror still grips her heart). Nightshade swears she’ll look after the young girl and none of the Boa’s doubt that. Not when the ex-assassin turned bodyguard has the same look Hancock does when the young girl does something as simple as gifting a flower. It’s a look of wanting to protect something so desperately because it was one of the last pieces of kindness in their world. None of the Boa sisters trust easily, especially not Hancock, and especially if it came to her daughter. But Hancock trusted Nightshade, and that was a feat in of itself. And so Hancock sets off on her ship, trusting her beloved daughter to her bodyguard and ex-empress of the Amazon. Though it’s only for a few days Dicentra helps keep things afloat alongside Gloriosa.

Chapter 2: where the story begins

By 13 Dicentra knows the Amazon lily like the back of her hand. She knows every trail, bend of the river and cove there’s to find in the lush landscape populated by snaking vines and flowers. Pollen coats the air in sweet smells as the distinct smell of rain coming sets in for the young princess and her shadow. But the Rowling black clouds did little to dismay the young girl, if anything it only made her more excited as she quickened her pace and hopped over twisting roots. Having a storm in the calm belt was a rare occurrence, the lack of wind and still waters kept for a stagnant environment but once in awhile a storm would drift from the grand line and breeze briefly through the still water and die off. It made for decent rainfall and any occasional change in weather from the hot climate was always something welcome to the young girl. Nightshade would agree in that retrospect, from the few moments she talked of times past was she talked of a place described as an eternal flowering spring, not cold but not yet summer (though apparently a northern area had snow). So Dicentra raced to the many hidden beaches and coves of the Amazon lily.

its towering cliffs her beloved home had many secret coves beside the main waterway into the heart of the city. Many laid forgotten to time, old boats used generations ago laying still in soft sand that crunched beneath her feet. Typically there was no tide at these hidden beaches and coves, just stagnant water lifting at a certain level against the sand. No white foam decorating its edges like lace if not for the storm stirring the waves. She can’t help but giggle at the sensation, even if her stockings got wet in the ordeal. A few feet away nightshade stood as the wind blew past, still and silent yet eased by now dropping of rain on warm skin.

The rain is cool and refreshing, trailing down and leaving hair damp.

But calm only lasts a moment.

Typically when a storm blew through the calm belt it was mild at worst and calm rain at its least. It was almost always that way with nothing to keep feeding its trajectory as it fizzled out and died.

But sometimes depending on how large the storm was prior it could survive long enough to be just as powerful as it was in the grand line.

One second Dicentra is standing at the waters edge basking in the cool rain, the other second she’s dragged in by once cerulean blue waves that became crashing cold darkness. The void encompasses the entirety of her as she’s choked from air and the cold grasping at her bones. Instinct sets in immediately but the shock of near icey waves and pulling current tossing her like a rag doll make it impossible to do so. Helplessly she floats in near darkness as storm clouds blocked out sun and made the waters a chilling void. The image of complete utter darkness as she reaches blindly engraved itself in her mind. Never once has she felt such a fear of the dark. When she was younger she hadn’t feared it, rather was intrigued to explore it instead. But now it grips and drags her down down, down into is abyss.

But then a hand appears from the dark, Nightshade.

Twitchy and icey fingers grasp the stronger hand that then pulls.

She lands on the old rickety boat with a thud and immediately sea water streams out in pained coughs. Wind blows wildly tussling hair as waves crash against the edges of the boat. She can barely see over wet hair clinging to her face but she feels Nightshade hold her for dear life and above the yelling waves her protector screams to hold onto her with all she can.

Dicentra does as says and feels a colossal pain hit her before a once friendly darkness consumes her vision.

Chapter 3: turning point

Waking up is typically a calming routine for Dicentra. If mom wasn’t on a warlord meeting she’d brush sit down with her and her mom would brush her hair. It was a daily tradition, on in which her mother would hum quietly and gently comb through her hair. Sometimes she’d check to see if the pink dye of her hair was loosing its pigment, if so she’d ask if she wanted to leave it natural or dye it once more. Dicentra always opted to dye it again. Crushed up flowers mixed with imported hair products then used to stain once lily White hair again. That was their tradition together alongside at night having mom look at her wings and care for them. Apologizing as she helped her wings molt or placing a soothing cream on the sore hurting appendages. So waking up one morning with sunlight streaming on her face on linen instead of the familiar feeling of silk is odd. Not bad but it doesn’t make sense for a few moments as her sleep plagued brain thought through what had happened.

She remembered a storm, darkness gripping her, coughing up slat water that burned her lungs and then clutching Nightshade for dear life.

Nightshade!

Despite her body feeling like wet bricks Dicentra finds herself dragging herself from the small bed she was laid on. Blindly she reaches out expecting to find her closest companion besides her family. Instead though she meets something else instead.

Nightshade was a lithe person. beautifully strong despite her lack of visible muscles. She used to ask her shadow of a bodyguard how she was able to be so strong without being as muscular as aunty Marigold. The quiet woman would simply hum, saying something about she isn’t strong but has good instincts and reflexes. Point being in all of this the arm she grabbed wasn’t that of Nightshade, it was muscular

“Oh yoi? You’re awake finally.” The voice is weirdly deep and as her eyes adjust Dicentra is faced with someone crouching down to her level. Blue eyes stare at her from behind glasses….this was a weird looking woman.

This is where things would come into motion

I’ll leave it at this for now. But rest assured she has more story