#with two other young boys at the front carrying his coffin

[pulsar-1919]

Literally cannot get over the British government trying to force that Troubles Legacy bill when no party in Northern Ireland supports it. They never all agree on anything

#they showed a clip from the funeral of an 11 year old boy during the troubles #with two other young boys at the front carrying his coffin #if that bill passes they and everyone like them will never see justice for their murdered friends and family #it effects everyone on both sides of the conflict #ALSO THAT SHIT ABOUT SENDING MIGRANTS TO RWANDA #WHAT IN THE CARTOON VILLAIN IS THAT??? #northern ireland #british politics #on a better note Happy Mandela Day #one good thing from the news this evening #irish politics #it has been 0 days since the british have been at it

[bladiegfs]

it's been a long, long time

➵ hcs + drabbles of being separated from your lover for a while (ft. jing yuan, blade, gepard)

➵ warning(s) applicable: none

➵ wc: 2.3k

➵ they say distance makes the heart grow fonder. but sometimes, you can't stand it.

➵ author's note: hugging (and a kiss on blade's) as a treat...

Jing Yuan

⇢ It had been a while since you two saw one another; you were both far too busy with the threat of the Stellaron Hunters coming to Xianzhou.

⇢ You were busy with matters concerning work; no matter whether or not literal criminals could be walking the streets, the world stops for no one.

⇢ Well, most especially because you were involved with the Realm-Keeping Commission. It kept you ridiculously occupied, so much to the point that you couldn’t even pick up your phone.

⇢ Many things were keeping you occupied: first was the clear issue of the well-hidden secret of Blade’s escape. Second were the strange visitors that Sushang had been lugging around, especially the one carrying around a coffin and… hitting enemies with it. Third was the investigation of the spread of mara within soldiers— the Cloud Knights had been bleeding more men than predicted, which only made it more difficult for them to handle the criminals.

“He’s quite suspicious, isn’t he?” You comment, pulling Sushang to the side. The young knight raises an eyebrow at your words. “Who?” “The fair-haired one,” You explain. “The one with the coffin.” “I thought of that, too,” Sushang nods. She then beams at you, “But I can handle this, [name]! Trust me— you don’t have to worry more than you already do. The Loufu General won’t be too happy to know you’re running on anxiety, you know?”

⇢ And of course, you greatly missed Jing Yuan. At first, it was a faint feeling of sadness that resided in your chest. Then, as the days went by, it only grew in intensity. Somehow, seeing happy pairs of Foxians walking outside left a bitter taste in your mouth.

⇢ However, you had to push those feelings to the side and needed to put all focus on doing your job— the determination of ending all that gets in the way kept you fueled. After all, the sooner you deal with work, the sooner you’d be reunited with him.

⇢ And when all things ceased— finally and for the better, too— you find yourself overly aware of just how much you really missed your beloved. His absence had made your side turn cold.

⇢ Not only that, but worries also started to wander into your head. Where is he? What had happened to him these past few days? He didn’t do anything reckless, did he?

⇢ Those questions, you thought, could be easily answered by the one junior you know you could trust: Yanqing. And there he was, wiping his sword clean of dirt on a pavilion. You approached him, raising a hand in acknowledgment as you call out his name. He looks up at you with a bright smile.

“The General…” Yanqing tilts his head, eyes wandering up as he thinks. Some grime was on the little boy’s cheek as well as his hand, but he paid them no attention, or perhaps he did not notice. Then, his expression lights up and he says, “I last saw him with Madam Yukong! They’re probably at the Starskiff Haven.” “Thanks, Yanqing,” You smile, one hand reaching out to away wipe the dirt on his face as you spoke. Yanqing’s hand quickly darts up his face, replacing yours. With a voice tinged with shame, he says, “You better hurry or you might miss him.”

⇢ When you arrived at Starskiff Haven, the docks were filled with other officials within the Sky-Faring Commission. You peeked between the crowd, looking for him— looking for a hint of that light hair, and straining your ears to pick up the sound of his voice.

⇢ It was difficult to look around. There were far too many people blocking your line of sight, and he was likely right up front, unconsciously commanding attention like he always has. 

⇢ And so, you turned around, opting to wait for the crowds to dwindle instead.

⇢ As you turned around, you bumped into someone. Before you could apologize, realization dawned upon you. You open your mouth soundlessly, unsure of where to start.

“Looking for someone?” Jing Yuan says, a playful smile on his face. You quickly rushed in for a hug, engulfing him in your arms. He stumbles back a little in surprise, momentarily stunned before returning the embrace. “Missed me that much?” He teases you as you melt into his arms. “You have no idea.” You reply, holding him even tighter. A laugh escapes his lips as one of his hands combs through your hair. He breathes in deeply and replies in a voice low enough that only you can hear, “I missed you too.”

Blade

⇢ Worries filled your head the moment you heard that Blade was captured by the Cloud Knights.

⇢ Kafka was quick to wave it off when the news hit, laughing as she does so. It did little to dissuade your worries.

“Oh, Bladie’s fine,” She quickly says, her voice a little more gentle this time. “Don’t worry about it, [name]. It’s all going according to plan.” “Plan,” you incredulously echo. Kafka nods as she turns to one of the screens, projecting an image of the planet. “After all, he’s already gotten away.” “Huh?” You stand up, your chair dragging on the floor with a loud noise. “What’s he doing now, then?” The half-grin Kafka gives you answers none of your questions.

⇢ With that, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Kafka had already plotted to go to Xianzhou Loufu herself— something about fulfilling what Elio had foreseen. None of which you’re allowed to know, but the fact that she’d be there reassures you.

⇢ You find yourself resting a lot easier. You return to your duties, significantly less bothered.

⇢ …Until a certain someone lets it slip that Kafka has gotten captured by the Divination Commission’s Master Diviner.

⇢ The entire situation spelled trouble; Blade had a nasty habit of meddling in fights involving any other members of the Stellaron Hunters. Hell, that’s how you met him first. But not only that, you worried about what information the commission could read on Kafka, and what they could possibly do to her.

“I’ll come get her myself,” You grit your teeth. Sam laughs, “Hey, don’t be rash. It’s all going—” “According to plan,” You finish, irritation audible in your voice. “That’s what you’re going to say, right?” “…Going to be alright, then,” Sam offers a sleazy smile. “Better?”

⇢ Right as you were briskly walking to the teleporters— followed by Sam who refused to let you go— a loud noise rattles the headquarters and lights flicker on and off for a second before stabilizing once more.

⇢ You rush to the source of the noise and was met with the sight of him dusting his clothes off, clicking his tongue. Meanwhile, Kafka sat beside Silver Wolf, amused as she watches Blade move.

⇢ When Blade meets your eyes, his expression somewhat relaxes. But he doesn’t spare you a greeting as you unconsciously scan his person; your eyes narrow at the new set of bandages wrapped around his arm. He then walks out of the room, pushing past Sam.

⇢ Looking around and at the three hunters looking at you expectantly, you sigh and turn to follow Blade.

⇢ He quickly walks through the halls and disappears behind the automatic doors of his room. You hasten your steps, and when the doors open for you, he’s seated at the foot of his bed, in the progress of removing his top.

⇢ He silently glances up to look at you and his hands stop working on his clothes. Instead, he leans back a little, propping himself up with one elbow against the bed and his free hand motioning for you to come closer.

⇢ You follow him and find a seat on top of his lap. You wrap your arms around him, breathing out as you feel his warmth once more.

Blade’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you even closer.  A jolt of electricity moves through your spine as he moves lower to press kisses on your neck. He murmurs against your skin, “Missed me?” “Yes,” You whisper. You feel his mouth curve up in a smile at your reply. And he leaves it unsaid as he kisses you, his lips meeting yours; I missed you, too. 

Gepard

⇢ From the very start, you understood what Gepard’s line of work meant and you admired him for it.

⇢ But there was also the fact that there were days that were truly rough for him. He is a skilled fighter but there were still days when he’d come home wounded and tired. And you knew that he always means to be careful– he hated to see you look so worried and distraught– but his work comes first before anything.

⇢ And with his position in his work, it was all the more riskier. ‘To fight for Belobog is an honor,’ they said, but it sure didn’t feel like one whenever Gepard comes home to you and you’d see him injured. 

⇢ Fortunately, those days were sparse.

⇢ But suddenly, there were orders for the Silvermane Guards to be dispatched outside the city. Length of stay? Indefinite. They were to remain there until they’ve completely eliminated the threat of Automaton Beasts— machines that might as well be pests with the way they never seem to never run out. 

⇢ You felt somewhat assured that Gepard can handle the threat; he told you things like these were a walk in the park for him.

⇢ It was the distance that troubled you, as well as the intense cold outside the city. You vividly remember your early teen years, when you’d curiously explore the vast, snowy plains and shivered as you moved.

“Be careful,” You told Gepard as his hand hovers over the doorknob. “Stay safe, alright?” Gepard throws a glance behind his shoulder and looks at you with a small smile. “I’ll try.” You give him an unamused scoff, which only makes the smile on his face grow. Then, he gives in and says, “I’ll contact you as much as I can.” Slowly, a tiny smile also appears on your face.

⇢ Days turn into a week. He’d occasionally call you at around dinner time, checking in on you and chatting about trivial matters. You’d ask about how his mission is going, and he’d tell you the same thing he usually does: “It’s going great. Don’t worry, [name].”

⇢ But one night, the clock ticks past dinner time and you stare hard enough at your phone that you could almost launch it flying with just your gaze.

⇢ After a while, you pick up your phone— it works two ways, doesn’t it? But it only rings, and rings, and rings.

⇢ You told yourself to not worry about it too much; he was probably simply occupied for the night. He deserved and earned his rest.

⇢ Until it extends to four nights of silence. Four nights of not hearing his voice, not knowing what’s happened to him. Nothing.

⇢ At this point, you had wanted to march right out of the city walls once more, just like what you had done before. But you snapped back to reality the more you thought about it— you didn’t want to give the guards another thing to worry about, another to look out for.

⇢ Instead, all you could do is sigh discontentedly as you stare into your phone, waiting and waiting and waiting.

⇢ Seven days had passed since you last heard from Gepard. An entire week of waiting for news– waiting for anything at all– to tell you that he’s alright.

⇢ Then, as you walk through the city to quickly shop for more rice, you overheard a conversation between some guards within the city.

“—the captain.” “How long?” “I have no idea. Apparently, they’ve run into one of the biggest ones and sent his subordinates back to camp with one foot in the grave.” “So he’s fighting it alone?” “One at a time, yeah, I think. Chipping away at it. But it has been like, what? A week? Who knows how much longer it’ll be?” “Right,” The guard nods. “It could take him a year if he just kept going by himself instead of mobilizing his juniors.” “You know the captain. He’s not that type of person.”

⇢ You stumble back home, sick to your stomach.  Gepard– the sweet, kind, caring man that he is and you fell for– had been fighting alone, all for the sake of his subordinates.

⇢ Right as you were about to get your phone to call Serval, the person you know would understand, you saw some guards and paramedics within the city walk in packs through the window.

⇢ Curiously, you peek out. Suddenly, hope and dread both fill your stomach as you see lines of guards– Gepard’s subordinates– start to litter the streets and go en route to the nearest medical bay.

⇢ You quickly rush outside your home and trail behind them, anxious to see their captain, your Gepard.

You pushed through the other soldiers, determined to make your way to him. He stood there, looking worse for wear. Yet, he stood steadfast. It was as if the wounds all over him didn’t exist. Instead, he ordered the paramedics to take his subordinates first. Your heart aches as you watch him and found yourself unable to hold back any longer— you pushed past another line of soldiers with some effort and broke through. With that, you start rushing toward your lover. When he catches sight of you, his walking first speeds up, until he starts rushing to you as well. And it was as if the world stopped moving when he catches you in his arms, engulfing you in a tight embrace. He cradles your head when you mutter, “I thought… I was so…” “It’s alright,” Gepard replies in a soothing voice. “I’m here. I’m here now.” 

#maddie's corner! #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #gepard x reader #! etude

[foodandfolklore]

The Grimm Variations, Episode 5*

A new Netflix Anime has caught my eye. It's Called the Grimm Variations; which feature retellings of Original Brothers Grimm fairytales. But rather be a beat for beat, they are more reimagined. A "What If" kind of thing. I figured I'd share the original Fairytales these stories are based on for those interested.

Edit: I got the order of the episodes Mixed up, so I'll share them in the order I saw them. This one was Based on the Classic story Hansel and Gretel. A staple Fairytale for Kitchen Witches. Two children from a poor household trying to be driven away by their mother to save money. She keeps trying to lose them in the forest and they keep managing to find their way back. Until, one day, they don't and stumble into a Witch's Sweet Bread House. A common misconception about the story though is that Hansel and Gretel leave bread crumbs to find their ways home. So "Bread Crumbs" is a common turn of phrase used when describing clues left by others on purpose. However, they found their way home using stones. When they tried using bread crumbs, that's when they got lost as the wildlife ate their trail.

Hansel and Gretel

Near a great forest there lived a poor woodcutter and his wife, and his two children; the boy's name was Hansel and the girl's Grethel. They had very little to bite or to sup, and once, when there was great dearth in the land, the man could not even gain the daily bread. As he lay in bed one night thinking of this, and turning and tossing, he sighed heavily, and said to his wife, "What will become of us? we cannot even feed our children; there is nothing left for ourselves."

"I will tell you what, husband," answered the wife; "we will take the children early in the morning into the forest, where it is thickest; we will make them a fire, and we will give each of them a piece of bread, then we will go to our work and leave them alone; they will never find the way home again, and we shall be quit of them."

"No, wife," said the man, "I cannot do that; I cannot find in my heart to take my children into the forest and to leave them there alone; the wild animals would soon come and devour them." - "O you fool," said she, "then we will all four starve; you had better get the coffins ready," and she left him no peace until he consented. "But I really pity the poor children," said the man.

The two children had not been able to sleep for hunger, and had heard what their step-mother had said to their father. Grethel wept bitterly, and said to Hansel, "It is all over with us."

"Do be quiet, Grethel," said Hansel, "and do not fret; 1 will manage something." And when the parents had gone to sleep he got up, put on his little coat, opened the back door, and slipped out. The moon was shining brightly, and the white flints that lay in front of the house glistened like pieces of silver. Hansel stooped and filled the little pocket of his coat as full as it would hold. Then he went back again, and said to Grethel, "Be easy, dear little sister, and go to sleep quietly; God will not forsake us," and laid himself down again in his bed. When the day was breaking, and before the sun had risen, the wife came and awakened the two children, saying, "Get up, you lazy bones; we are going into the forest to cut wood." Then she gave each of them a piece of bread, and said, "That is for dinner, and you must not eat it before then, for you will get no more." Grethel carried the bread under her apron, for Hansel had his pockets full of the flints. Then they set off all together on their way to the forest. When they had gone a little way Hansel stood still and looked back towards the house, and this he did again and again, till his father said to him, "Hansel, what are you looking at? take care not to forget your legs."

"O father," said Hansel, "lam looking at my little white kitten, who is sitting up on the roof to bid me good-bye." - "You young fool," said the woman, "that is not your kitten, but the sunshine on the chimney-pot." Of course Hansel had not been looking at his kitten, but had been taking every now and then a flint from his pocket and dropping it on the road. When they reached the middle of the forest the father told the children to collect wood to make a fire to keep them, warm; and Hansel and Grethel gathered brushwood enough for a little mountain j and it was set on fire, and when the flame was burning quite high the wife said, "Now lie down by the fire and rest yourselves, you children, and we will go and cut wood; and when we are ready we will come and fetch you."

So Hansel and Grethel sat by the fire, and at noon they each ate their pieces of bread. They thought their father was in the wood all the time, as they seemed to hear the strokes of the axe: but really it was only a dry branch hanging to a withered tree that the wind moved to and fro. So when they had stayed there a long time their eyelids closed with weariness, and they fell fast asleep.

When at last they woke it was night, and Grethel began to cry, and said, "How shall we ever get out of this wood? "But Hansel comforted her, saying, "Wait a little while longer, until the moon rises, and then we can easily find the way home." And when the full moon got up Hansel took his little sister by the hand, and followed the way where the flint stones shone like silver, and showed them the road. They walked on the whole night through, and at the break of day they came to their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the wife opened it and saw that it was Hansel and Grethel she said, "You naughty children, why did you sleep so long in the wood? we thought you were never coming home again!" But the father was glad, for it had gone to his heart to leave them both in the woods alone.

Not very long after that there was again great scarcity in those parts, and the children heard their mother say at night in bed to their father, "Everything is finished up; we have only half a loaf, and after that the tale comes to an end. The children must be off; we will take them farther into the wood this time, so that they shall not be able to find the way back again; there is no other way to manage." The man felt sad at heart, and he thought, "It would better to share one's last morsel with one's children." But the wife would listen to nothing that he said, but scolded and reproached him. He who says A must say B too, and when a man has given in once he has to do it a second time.

But the children were not asleep, and had heard all the talk. When the parents had gone to sleep Hansel got up to go out and get more flint stones, as he did before, but the wife had locked the door, and Hansel could not get out; but he comforted his little sister, and said, "Don't cry, Grethel, and go to sleep quietly, and God will help us." Early the next morning the wife came and pulled the children out of bed. She gave them each a little piece of "bread -less than before; and on the way to the wood Hansel crumbled the bread in his pocket, and often stopped to throw a crumb on the ground. "Hansel, what are you stopping behind and staring for?" said the father.

"I am looking at my little pigeon sitting on the roof, to say good-bye to me," answered Hansel. "You fool," said the wife, "that is no pigeon, but the morning sun shining on the chimney pots." Hansel went on as before, and strewed bread crumbs all along the road. The woman led the children far into the wood, where they had never been before in all their lives. And again there was a large fire made, and the mother said, "Sit still there, you children, and when you are tired you can go to sleep; we are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening, when we are ready to go home we will come and fetch you."

So when noon came Grethel shared her bread with Hansel, who had strewed his along the road. Then they went to sleep, and the evening passed, and no one came for the poor children. When they awoke it was dark night, and Hansel comforted his little sister, and said, "Wait a little, Grethel, until the moon gets up, then we shall be able to see the way home by the crumbs of bread that I have scattered along it."

So when the moon rose they got up, but they could find no crumbs of bread, for the birds of the woods and of the fields had come and picked them up. Hansel thought they might find the way all the same, but they could not. They went on all that night, and the next day from the morning until the evening, but they could not find the way out of the wood, and they were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but the few berries they could pick up. And when they were so tired that they could no longer drag themselves along, they lay down under a tree and fell asleep.

It was now the third morning since they had left their father's house. They were always trying to get back to it, but instead of that they only found themselves farther in the wood, and if help had not soon come they would have been starved.

About noon they saw a pretty snow-white bird sitting on a bough, and singing so sweetly that they stopped to listen. And when he had finished the bird spread his wings and flew before them, and they followed after him until they came to a little house, and the bird perched on the roof, and when they came nearer they saw that the house was built of bread, and roofed with cakes; and the window was of transparent sugar. "We will have some of this," said Hansel, "and make a fine meal. I will eat a piece of the roof, Grethel, and you can have some of the window-that will taste sweet." So Hansel reached up and broke off a bit of the roof, just to see how it tasted, and Grethel stood by the window and gnawed at it. Then they heard a thin voice call out from inside,

"Nibble, nibble, like a mouse, Who is nibbling at my house?"

And the children answered,

"Never mind, It is the wind."

And they went on eating, never disturbing themselves. Hansel, who found that the roof tasted very nice, took down a great piece of it, and Grethel pulled out a large round window-pane, and sat her down and began upon it.

Then the door opened, and an aged woman came out, leaning upon a crutch. Hansel and Grethel felt very frightened, and let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head, and said, "Ah, my dear children, how come you here? you must come indoors and stay with me, you will be no trouble." So she took them each by the hand, and led them into her little house. And there they found a good meal laid out, of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts. After that she showed them two little white beds, and Hansel and Grethel laid themselves down on them, and thought they were in heaven.

The old woman, although her behaviour was so kind, was a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had built the little house on purpose to entice them. When they were once inside she used to kill them, cook them, and eat them, and then it was a feast day with her. The witch's eyes were red, and she could not see very far, but she had a keen scent, like the beasts, and knew very well when human creatures were near. When she knew that Hansel and Grethel were coming, she gave a spiteful laugh, and said triumphantly, "I have them, and they shall not escape me!"

Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she got up to look at them, and as they lay sleeping so peacefully with round rosy cheeks, she said to herself, "What a fine feast I shall have!" Then she grasped Hansel with her withered hand, and led him into a little stable, and shut him up behind a grating; and call and scream as he might, it was no good. Then she went back to Grethel and shook her, crying, "Get up, lazy bones; fetch water, and cook something nice for your brother; he is outside in the stable, and must be fattened up. And when he is fat enough I will eat him." Grethel began to weep bitterly, but it was of no use, she had to do what the wicked witch bade her. And so the best kind of victuals was cooked for poor Hansel, while Grethel got nothing but crab-shells.

Each morning the old woman visited the little stable, and cried, "Hansel, stretch out your finger, that I may tell if you will soon be fat enough." Hansel, however, used to hold out a little bone, and the old woman, who had weak eyes, could not see what it was, and supposing it to be Hansel's finger, wondered very much that it was not getting fatter.

When four weeks had passed and Hansel seemed to remain so thin, she lost patience and could wait no longer. "Now then, Grethel," cried she to the little girl; "be quick and draw water; be Hansel fat or be he lean, tomorrow I must kill and cook him." Oh what a grief for the poor little sister to have to fetch water, and how the tears flowed down over her cheeks! "Dear God, pray help us!" cried she; "if we had been devoured by wild beasts in the wood at least we should have died together."

"Spare me your lamentations," said the old woman; "they are of no avail." Early next morning Grethel had to get up, make the fire, and fill the kettle. "First we will do the baking," said the old woman; "I nave heated the oven already, and kneaded the dough." She pushed poor Grethel towards the oven, out of which the flames were already shining.

"Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is properly hot, so that the bread may be baked." And Grethel once in, she meant to shut the door upon her and let her be baked, and then she would have eaten her. But Grethel perceived her intention, and said, "I don't know how to do it: how shall I get in?"

"Stupid goose," said the old woman, "the opening is big enough, do you see? I could get in myself!" and she stooped down and put her head in the oven's mouth. Then Grethel gave her a push, so that she went in farther, and she shut the iron door upon her, and put up the bar. Oh how frightfully she howled! but Grethel ran away, and left the wicked witch to burn miserably.

Grethel went straight to Hansel, opened the stable-door, and cried, "Hansel, we are free! the old witch is dead!" Then out flew Hansel like a bird from its cage as soon as the door is opened. How rejoiced they both were! how they fell each on the other's neck! and danced about, and kissed each other! And as they had nothing more to fear they went over all the old witch's house, and in every corner there stood chests of pearls and precious stones. "This is something better than flint stones," said Hansel, as he filled his pockets, and Grethel, thinking she also would like to carry something home with her, filled her apron full. i! Now, away we go," said Hansel, "if we only can get out of the witch's wood." When they had journeyed a few hours they came to a great piece of water. "We can never get across this," said Hansel, "I see no stepping-stones and no bridge."

"And there is no boat either," said Grethel; "but here comes a white duck; if I ask her she will help us over." So she cried,

"Duck, duck, here we stand, Hansel and Grethel, on the land, Stepping-stones and bridge we lack, Carry us over on your nice white back."

And the duck came accordingly, and Hansel got upon her and told his sister to come too. "No," answered Grethel, "that would be too hard upon the duck; we can go separately, one after the other." And that was how it was managed, and after that they went on happily, until they came to the wood, and the way grew more and more familiar, till at last they saw in the distance their father's house. Then they ran till they came up to it, rushed in at the door, and fell on their father's neck. The man had not had a quiet hour since he left his children in the wood; but the wife was dead. And when Grethel opened her apron the pearls and precious stones were scattered all over the room, and Hansel took one handful after another out of his pocket. Then was all care at an end, and they lived in great joy together. My tale is done, there runs a mouse, whosoever catches it, may make himself a big fur cap out of it.

#food and folklore #kitchen witch #fairytale #folktale #folklore #brothers grimm #hansel and gretel #gingerbread house #grimm variations #netflix #netflix series

[wexhappyxfew]

Might be a silly question but would you be able to do a quick post about the girls of Silver bullets and who their relationships (romantic?) are with?

I find that I’m reading too many things at one time and am having a hard time remembering who’s with who. Ps absolutely love your writing!

hey anon! not a silly question at all and something i'm more than happy to provide!!! it's quite the grouping and a whole lot of people and moving parts, so it is no worries at all :D some of the girls have more established and *finalized* storylines and such, while others....we'll see as it comes. so! below are all the pairings, with little descriptions i've given each! both vivian and bessie have boyfriends back home (and are serving in the war), while all the other girls are either paired with some MOTA boys or not (if you have ideas though, i'd be happy to take them!) this can serve as a silver bullets pairing masterlist!! thank you again and enjoy! <3

PAIRINGS:

ANNIE BRADSHAW X JOHN BRADY

Two pilots who find one another amid a world war, trying to seek out some form of comfort and warmth, in a time filled with grief, mental torment, and uncertainty.

FRANCIS MONTEZ

A co-pilot whose mental battle becomes the biggest proponent next to a world war - wondering if their replacement pilot will step up to plate, if they'll go down and lose Silver Bullets altogether, or if they'll be blasted from the sky in a metal coffin.

BESSIE CARLISLE X THOMAS MCKENZIE (OMC)

Separated by countries and oceans and merely connected through nothing but letters and pressed flowers, with scented envelopes, childhood sweethearts who fell head over heels with one another.

CARRIE ACHTERBERG X JAMES DOUGLASS

Bombardier friends who suddenly find themselves together more often not - and usually always trying to get the other to laugh, even if they're not watching.

KENNEDY FARLEY X JOHN EGAN

In training, she was a waist gunner on his fort. Then he found out she was a Red Sox fan and he, being a loyal Yankees fan, took every opportunity to 'bust her chops'. On tougher days, they seem to linger a little closer to one another than warranted.

MARGIE HARLOWE X BERNARD DEMARCO

Bonded over their love for animals and seemed to hang around one another since. Co-parents it appears to Meatball, the husky won in craps - they say they're just friends though.

JUDY RYBINSKI X ROSIE ROSENTHAL

Losing command pilot after command pilot began to take its toll on the young turret ball gunner, so getting a new pilot who stepped up to the plate and took charge made her gravitate closer toward him more than anything.

MARIANNE SALINGER

Lovingly takes care of an orange cat named Frank who likes to wander the base. Has never been in anything serious with a guy, usually a cheerleader for her friends, if anything.

VIVIAN RATCLIFFE X JAMES PENNINGTON (OMC)

He worked at her dad's mechanic garage and soon was coming over for dinner at the Ratcliffe household. She hangs onto any letters he sends and spends nights writing back to him in training, hoping one day, they're back on her family's farm once again.

PAULINA STAGLIANO

Had a boyfriend back home, but when she was in Greenland, wrote that he thought they should break it off - since then has made it her goal to commit entirely to the cause and focus on the world in front of her - and the war.

#masters of the air #mota #silver bullets #mota writings #silver bullets pairings #the girlies! #this is what its looking like at the moment #and yes! bessie and viv have their guys back home :) #thanks anon! #it was nice to put this somewhere !!!

[the-illiterate-pirate]

PACO CONTENT FRESH OFF THE PRESS

I did it I'm the best I made the first JoJolands reader insert SUCK IT

Paco is so cool. Araki is a G for having a character that canonically got held back in school and I applaud him for that

Lover Boy

TITLE SUBJECT TO CHANGE I WANNA USE IT FOR SOMETHING ELSE but I couldn't think of anything. Notes: SFW, reader is gn but Paco calls them "Doll", enemies to lovers speedrun, Paco and Reader curse like. A lot. Usagi uses text speech because I KNOW HE DOES

Ever since your first mission with Jodio and his team, Paco despised you. You couldn't tell why, for all you knew, there wasn't anything you'd done to irk the guy. You got along well with Dragona, Usagi was happy to have someone new, hell, it was Jodio who introduced you to the group. So why the hell was Paco so against it?

Paco wasn't up front with his disdain against you, but you could read between the lines. He was meaner when he talked to you, unlike the others, took any chance he could to manhandle you and even went as far as leaving bruises where he grabs. And worst of all Paco treated you like a child. You were never allowed to do anything around the bastard. You hated it. Paco could treat you like shit, but you would bite back, too.

Currently you were stuck in a hotel. It was your job to grab the rooms at a nearby hotel while the others made some last minute plans for the latest mission. Nothing big, but it was pretty important. The clock on your phone read 6:26. You were early, but waiting in the hot sun and carrying heavy bags in such a dodgy part of the city was a big no go.

"Hi~! I'm here to check in under Joestar? I am a bit early, I hope that won't be a problem~!" You tried on your cheeriest facade, despite how the pitch of your voice grinded on your nerves. The man behind the counter seemed to enjoy it, unlike you. The sound of your happy voice made him perk up in the slightest. "Hello! Here, let me see... Ah, yes, we have two rooms under the name! It says you're supposed to check in at 6:30, but being four minutes early shouldn't be a problem!" He entered something into a computer you couldn't see. The loud taps on the keyboard echoed in the empty entrance room. "Rooms are already paid for... I'll just need to see some ID to make sure you're twenty-one or older."

Shit.

Without missing a beat, you grabbed the fake license in your pants pocket, "'Course, sir!"

You had faith in Dragona's skill in making fake IDs, didn't make it any less nerve wracking to be checked. What a stupid rule. One wrong step and your plans for the next three days would blow up in your face.

The young man behind the counter studied your card closely. This time you heard the keyboard clatter followed by the click of a mouse. Every jab at the plastic keys felt like a nail in your coffin.

He knew it was a fake. He was waiting for you to crack. There was no way a check-in normally took this long.

"And done! Thank you for waiting, the internet has been acting slow lately,"

Oh?

He gave you your driver's license back along with two plastic cards. "Those are your room keys; don't lose them! They'll give you access to the pool, as well as the laundry room. You'll go to the third floor using the elevator down your left, rooms 308, and 309, on your right!"

"Alrighty! Thank you, sir!" You blew him a teasing kiss before grabbing your bags and scurrying to find the elevator. Once you entered and jabbed your finger into the button marked with a fading 3, you shot Usagi a text.

Rooms are secured

gr8!

ur rm is 309 relax untl we get there. u deserve it!!!

Translation: Great. Your room is 309, relax until we get there, you deserve it.)

You roll your eyes but smile fondly at Usagi's stupid way of texting. "Green" and "Pinkie" said they'd be here to retrieve you in an hour or two, so that gave you plenty of time to clean yourself up. A whole hour in a nicely air conditioned room and you didn't have to do jack shit. Sweet.

The crisp air conditioning hit you immediately after you opened your door. You were forced to let loose a deep sigh, eyes closing as you took in the sweet, sweet feeling of heaven on earth. This had to be what heaven was like: dark, cold, with a soft freshly made bed calling your name like a hymn.

Only one bed? Usagi did say this was your room... Maybe the boys were going to share a room, and they gave you your own space! Lucky~. But if you had to split with someone else you were definitely picking Dragona. He was warm, and a good cuddler.

The handle to your door jiggled, just as you had slipped off your shoes to relax in bed. Of course the door was locked, and you'd have to open it since you had the key. You sighed, exhausted, but got up anyway. You swore, if it was Jodio to retrieve you for the mission, you were going to give him a piece of your mind. You just got the rooms! You wanted to relax! And maybe check out the pool.

You opened the door about to greet whoever it was until the words caught in your mouth. The hat. The frame. The stupid, shitty belts.

"Paco?!"

"You?! What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Trying to relax, can't say it'll be easy after seeing your ugly mug so soon." You snicker, pretty proud of yourself for coming up with that so quickly. "You come here for your room key? It's right here, so go bother someone else while I destress." You took the plastic card out of your pocket, dangling it in front of his angry face like car keys to a baby.

"Leave? You're in my room, doll."

"Doll?!"

He pushed past you, ignoring the disgusted grunt when he put his hand on your arm. He crossed his arms over his broad, bare chest, and you knew immediately what he was doing, standing above your bed. You hissed, "Don't you dare."

Paco raised an eyebrow as if to say "Or what?"

You both stared the other down. Until Paco sealed his fate, sitting on the edge of your bed. "Ugh, damnit! Can't I have anything good without you messing it up?! This is my room!"

"You're room? I already told you, it's mine! Usagi himself said so!"

"Usagi told you?" You say, skeptical. "Whatever. Are you sure you didn't get the numbers mixed up? Surely you didn't actually think you'd get your own room?"

"Oh, what. You think I got 308 and 309 mixed up?!"

"I wouldn't doubt it... You don't exactly have the cleanest record, Paco. Remind me, who was the one that got held back in school like, two times?"

That pissed him off. Paco reacted like you'd just slapped him in the face. You took a little victory in getting to wipe off that shitty smirk he had.

"...God, what the hell is your damage? Why do you have to be such an ass?"

"Someone has to knock you down a couple pegs." You shot back heatedly.

Quickly, he was off the bed again. This time he marched right back to you, grabbing your arm in a bear trap and your chin in his other hand. You were used to his manhandling, Paco didn't scare you. But you understood he was bigger than you, and he wouldn't have any trouble taking you down. Paco didn't scare you, but even you could admit he was intimidating from this angle. He had his crooked nose right against yours, beady black eyes staring you down, but you stayed strong.

"It's hard to treat you seriously when you act like such a bitch." He rumbled against your face. "Does nothing good ever come out of your mouth?"

"On occasion. But it's only when I'm not talking to someone I hate." His grip got a little tighter. "Now let go of me."

"I'll let go once you apologize."

"You're gonna be waiting for a while, then." You say rather smug. "I'm not apologizing for shit."

"It's hard not to do anything to you sometimes. You know that? I try not to do anything brash but it's pretty fucking hard when you don't shut your damn mouth."

"Aw, not a fan of my voice, Lovelantes? You'll have to shut me up yourself, then."

"Shut up."

You lean in closer, enough to feel his ragged labored breathing fanning your face. "Make me."

Suddenly, his mouth was on yours. The pressure of his lips pressing against yours shocked you frozen. His kiss was all teeth and drool, angry huffs of breath against the side of your face as he kept pressing deeper. You weren't sure why your body decided to kiss back, one hand tangling in his straw colored hair and the other running against the muscles of his arm. He felt solid and strong, and in a way you thought it was really hot.

He moved forward, and you moved backwards, keeping this up until Paco had the back of your knees against the bed. You fell, lips only disconnecting once, when your head hit the mattress, and his mouth was on yours again immediately. The hands that were once in a vice grip against your wrist and chin now cupped your face with a surprising gentleness you didn't know Paco was capable of. While your hands explored his body wildly, Paco was placid on top of you, lips much more softer than before as they moved against yours.

"You're not nearly as smart as you think you are." Paco spoke against your lips after you broke apart. He watched you catch your breath. You stayed up at him dumbfounded, and he stared back, the faintest smile on his face.

"I don't... I-I don't get it. I thought, you hated me. What changed?"

"Hate you? I never hated you! You're just... Very annoying. Most of the time." He chuckled a little. "It's a little cute. But only sometimes."

You blurt out, "But–! What about all those times we fought, like just now!"

"Yeah... Thinking about it now, it probably wasn't the best way to talk to you. I thought it was all play fighting, like what me and Jodio do! I didn't think you took it to heart... Not until you said you hated me." He pouted. And shit. It was... Kind of cute.

You desperately try to understand how you could have possibly missed something so big. As gargantuan as. A crush? "You were always so rude. And you never let me do anything on missions. Why's that?"

He clicked his tongue. "You aren't exactly the most level headed person. If I just let you go around doing whatever, you'd get hurt. I didn't want that."

"Oh, my god." You fall back into the bed, staring past Paco at the ceiling. He finally let go, a little reluctantly, and collapsed beside you to do the same. "I can't believe it. Am I really so dense that I couldn't tell you... Liked me?"

"Yeah. You are." Paco laughed lightly, "..But I guess I wasn't any help either. Sorry. I don't actually think you're a bitch either. You have your moments... But you're mostly pretty cool."

"Yeah. Likewise." You pause. Then add on, "I don't think you're stupid. Or ugly. Actually you're... You're kind of... cute."

Paco turned to shoot you a hot look and a quirked eyebrow. "Really? You think I'm cute?"

"Don't let it get to your head."

"You're a little late, doll." You roll your eyes at the pet name.

He wiggled a little closer, on his side now. He gently grabbed your face again to make you look at him. The playful expression was gone, changed with something a little more serious. "Since we still have time to burn. I want another kiss. A real one this time." You giggled,

"Was the first one not good enough?" But you wiggled a little closer. 

"It was. But I know you can do better." He sealed your lips in another kiss. One softer than the first, no burning emotion or anger. It was quicker, and left your lips tingling in a good way.

And you kissed again. And one more. Until you decide to collapse into a shared mess of tangles, enjoying the bed and the AC together until duty called.

  

You have (2) new messages!

You, Paco, 🐰Bunny Boy🐰

Hi!! How are u enjoying ur room?

Oops! Didnt mean 2 send that to both of you! Srry!!!

Now calling: 🐰Bunny Boy🐰......

#me n paco 🤝 #jojolands #paco lovelantes #paco lovelantes x reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #jjba x reader #paco laburantes

[schrijverr]

Page 128-129

[There are two images on page 128, below them is text. The left one is a young Eddie, he can’t have been more than 13. All his hair has been shaven off and he is dressed in a too big plaid shirt, hanging over a too tiny white shirt and he’s wearing ripped open jeans in a manner that is not fashionable, but plain wear and tear. He is glaring into the camera, bruise on his cheek.]

A Little Runaway

Wayne Munson, 1979

.

[The right image is taken of a much older Eddie, who is resting his head in Wayne’s lap, arms up as he gestures excitedly and talks with sparkling eyes. His hair is now much longer and he is in a black shirt, the rest of his body not pictured. Wayne is softly smiling down at his nephew, raising one brow at him.]

An Uncle and his Nephew

Steve Munson, 1989

.

Wayne is only briefly mentioned in this book, but there is no denying how important he has been for all of us, but especially Eddie.

When Eddie was kicked out of his house at age 13, because he had been caught kissing a boy, he got onto the bus to Hawkins with what little he had to an uncle he knew next to nothing about, except that he was the black sheep of the family for the same reason Eddie was. Queerness forms a bond between people, it makes you trust a stranger, because a part of you knows the other intimately. And Wayne didn’t disappoint.

He took Eddie in and raised him as his own, supporting him and believing him when no one else did. He was Eddie’s rock. When the town of Hawkins turned against Eddie, Wayne didn’t believe it for a day and when Eddie was in the hospital, he was there every moment he could.

When Eddie came home with a boyfriend that was a cause for celebration, not shame or anger. The trailer they shared was a haven, a place of safety where they could be themselves. So when Steve’s parents kicked him out, Wayne adopted him too. Truly, Steve was a Munson long before he changed his name.

Eddie never felt like he could pay his uncle back for all he had done for him. He bought him a cabin in the woods when Corroded Coffin made it big and dedicated every award to him. When Wayne died in 2008, Eddie helped carry his coffin.

This page is for Uncle Wayne, who made sure Eddie grew up with the knowledge he could be older than 30. Who gave all of us a place to call home. Who was one of the best men, I have had the pleasure of knowing.

.

[Page 129 has four images on it. Upper left is of Wayne standing on the porch of a yet unseen cabin as he looks off into the woods and smokes a cigarette. He looks at ease with himself and happy, yet also a bit stoic and unreadable.]

Wayne Munson

Jonathan Byers, 1992

.

[The image next to it is of Eddie and Wayne with in the background the cabin shown in the other image. Eddie is practically bouncing on his toes as he holds his hands in front of Wayne’s eyes. He is dressed like the rock star he is, but the grin makes him look like a kid. Wayne looks amused with the small part of his face and he has his arms crossed as he waits patiently for Eddie. A little further off are Steve and Robin looking on fondly along with the other Corroded Coffin boys.]

A Gift to a Father

Jonathan Byers, 1992

.

[Below on the left is a photograph of the couch in the new Munson cabin, Wayne is sitting on it, smiling like an excited kid, like he can’t fully believe he’s there. He has one arm wrapped around Eddie, the other around Steve, who are also on the couch. Eddie is grinning, looking a little bashful and Steve is smiling softly at the two. All of them have a beer in their hands.]

Uncle Wayne and His Boys

Jonathan Byers, 1992

.

[On the lower right there is a photograph taken later in the day. Wayne is sitting at the edge of the couch, head leaning against the back of it, fast asleep. Leaning against Wayne is Eddie, his head is resting on Wayne’s chest, one leg is hanging of the couch, the other is stretched out. His face and Wayne’s are practically identical.]

Naps

Jonathan Byers, 1992

~~

<<Prev Next>> AO3

#rr writing #a collection of queer photography by jonathan byers #eddie lives au #eddie munson #wayne munson #uncle wayne #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #jonathan byers #corroded coffin #stranger things #st post season 4 #steve harrington x eddie munson #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #tw: homophobia mention #tw: implied abuse #tw: abuse

[wessexroyalfamily]

Death Arrives at the Palace.

Roy Bachman: This is Roy Bachman outside of Woodstock Palace where crowds have gathered this evening waiting to meet our new Queen, Queen Anne II who is escorting the coffin of her late Majesty, Queen Mary I from Fogmorre Castle to Woodstock Palace with her mother, Queen Caroline. I’m joined with Ashley Cooper who is inside the Palace courtyard.

Ashley Cooper: Yes Roy, it is a solemn occasion here at Woodstock Palace as members of the Royal Family gather for the first of three Memorial Services expected to happen this week.

Ashley Cooper: The Queen and The Queen Mother have just arrived ahead of the royal hearse carrying the coffin of Mary I. In a moment they will step out of their carriage to join other members of the royal family as the royal hearse comes into the courtyard.  

Ashley Cooper: The palace announced that this private Memorial Service will be held here at Carnarvon Chapel for palace staff members and for the immediate members of the Royal Family. And a much large memorial service will be held in Surrey that will include friends and family of the late Queen.

Roy Bachman: Interesting. Do you have any clue if the two young Princes will be in attendance in today’s Memorial service?

Ashley Cooper: We are not sure at this moment. It is expected that the two boys are of course grieving over the death of their aunt. We haven’t had a public sighting of the Princes since the news of Queen Mary’s death was announced. There is no word if they are here or still at Taunton House.

Ashley Cooper: I am going to turn the attention to the royals now, as the family is preparing to march behind the coffin and Queen Mary enters the Palace for the last time.

Roy Bachman: Can you tell us the faces you see and recognize?

Ashley Cooper: You can see the new Queen Anne II head bowed front in center with her husband, The Earl of Gloucester and The Queen Mother by her side. Behind the Royal trio from left to right is the Queen’s cousin, Princess Alexandra and her husband The Earl of Hyannis walking together.

In the middle you can see a very solemn Prince Arthur, The Earl of Falmouth, who us royal watchers don’t get to see as much. Directly behind the Queen you see her last living uncle Prince Albert, The Duke of Uxbridge and next him his two teenage children Prince Albert and Princess Alexandra of Uxbridge.

Roy Bachman: Any news on why Charles II, The Grand Duke of Cornwall and his brother are not in attendance?

Ashley Cooper: We were told that this would be a private memorial service for only the immediate family. The Queen’s first-cousin The Grand Duke of Cornwall and his family couldn't make it here in time due to the sudden death, but it has been confirmed that they will be at the Memorial Service in Surrey and will attend the state funeral with the Royal Family.

Roy Bachman: Thank you Ashley. The Queen will lie in state in the Throne Room of Woodstock Palace until the morning of the State Funeral.  

#sims 4 royal #sims 4 royalty #sims 4 royal simblr #sims 4 royal legacy #sims 4 royal story #sims royalty #sims royal

[geducation]

Inclusion

Please note, the following blog contains reference to the death of a young person.

Oliver was a child I taught for the first time in 2001 when he was 5 years old.  I’d only been teaching for two years and he was the first child I’d met with autism.  Oliver needed an extremely high level of support: he was largely non-verbal and experienced profound challenges that needed a high level of care.  His family were incredible, they wanted him in a mainstream setting, and we were supported brilliantly by them and by the Autism team to provide an environment that would enable him to flourish.  He was a joy to have in the classroom, along with the unexpected noises came a face that lit up when he smiled.  It was a steep learning curve for me and for the other staff that worked with him, we’d never come across things like PECS (Picture Exchange Communication System) before, but it quickly became part of our practice.  As Oliver moved up through school, our understanding of autism, and of how to meet complex needs developed.  By the time Oliver got to KS2, I’d been moved from year one to year six so had the pleasure of teaching him all over again.

Oliver spent most of his time in the classroom alongside his peers.  He couldn’t access any aspect of the National Curriculum, so with the help of the amazing teaching assistants that supported him, we created something just for him.  We planned practical ‘life skills’ sessions – if the children in Y6 were writing sets of instructions, Oliver would be practicing making a jam sandwich.  We planned creative sessions where Oliver could paint and make models, he did gardening, played games and continued to use PECS to build his communication skills.  Oliver left our school at the end of year six and transitioned to a specialist provision where he continued to flourish.  

On New Year’s Day this year, Oliver died.  He was at home with his family.  At 29 years old, he’d just moved to a new specialist accommodation – his own flat where he could be supported to build some independence. The news of his death came as a huge shock and affected everyone who’d known him. Yesterday was his funeral.  A group of us who’d taught him or worked with him over the years went along.  The chapel was completely full with family, friends and huge numbers of people who’d worked with him throughout his journey.  When the coffin was brought in, his family followed.  They were each wearing a brightly coloured bucket hat and sunglasses – Oliver’s signature look.  They wore t-shirts showing his favourite cartoon characters and his sister carried a bunch of balloons.  It was such a moment of joy – a beautiful tribute to an incredible young man.  During the service, stories were told about the impact Oliver had on those around him – the difference he’d made to their lives.  Although Oliver experienced some extremely difficult times, his infectious smile was a recurring theme.  At the end of the ceremony as we started to leave, I noticed three of Oliver’s classmates from primary school at the back of the hall.  They walked to the front together and one went over the coffin and placed his hand on top.  It was such a moving gesture – the three boys (men) hadn’t seen Oliver for 18 years yet they’d come to say goodbye.  It only struck me afterwards just what a powerful thing this was – what an amazing advert for the power of inclusion.  Because of Oliver’s neurodivergence, he couldn’t form friendships with his peers in a way that would be recognisable in a mainstream setting, but he’d spent six years alongside them.  He’d shared experiences, and he’d shared the classroom.  

We have more children with complex needs in our school than ever before.  We currently have 21 EHCPs, we have two autism hubs that support 19 children run by exceptionally talented and skilled staff – when Oliver started St Catherine’s he was the only autistic child we had.  

Our knowledge and understanding of meeting complex needs is something we pride ourselves on, and having worked with lots of different schools over the past ten years, I know that we’re not alone.  As the numbers of children who join our school communities with complex needs increases, we’ve all had to adapt.  But as we’ve become more and more skilled, and provision has become more and more specialised, I wonder if we’ve lost something along the way.  Some of our exceptional needs children spend limited time in the classroom – the high level of provision they need along with the complexities of staffing for such high numbers of children means that they can miss opportunities to be in the same room as their peers.  It’s easy to make a case for why this happens – classrooms can be very challenging environments for neurodivergent children, and tailored activities such as ‘bucket time’* are best delivered in quieter, less demanding spaces.  There’s still a lot to be said though for taking every opportunity for these children to be part of the class.  It can be difficult, but we have some great examples of this working well.  And when it does, the rewards are huge, not just for the children we’re talking about, but for them all.  The lives of the children that Oliver spent time with were richer for it, and the three boys who came to his funeral did so because he was one of them – a peer, a classmate, a friend.  

* Bucket time is an activity that comes from the intervention model ‘Attention Autism’ which was developed by Gina Davies. 

#inclusion #education #SEND

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)

Requested by anon

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.

Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.

Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.

You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.

Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.

Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.

You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.

The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.

You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.

That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.

That was the night you snapped.

Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.

It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.

It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.

Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.

As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.

Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.

Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.

You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.

With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.

Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.

However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.

Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.

Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.

Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.

Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.

Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.

Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.

You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.

You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.

Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.

You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.

Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.

You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.

It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.

Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.

You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.

He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.

You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.

He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.

You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.

Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.

Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.

Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.

The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.

Very quickly, cliques formed.

The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.

However, this was not to last forever.

Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.

You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.

That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.

The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.

Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”

Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”

He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.

Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.

You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.

“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”

You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”

Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.

“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”

Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.

“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.” You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”

Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.

They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.

The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.

Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”

Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.

“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.

Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.

You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.

“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.

“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.

Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.

Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.

Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.

Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.

However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.

Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.

Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.

Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.

You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).

“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”

Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.

You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”

“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.

Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.

Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.

Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.

“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”

“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.  

Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.

“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”

“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”

Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.

Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”

They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.

Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.

The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.

In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.

You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.

Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.

“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.

“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.

“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.

Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.

“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.

“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.

You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”

Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.

“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”

Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”

“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.

Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”

Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.

Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.

“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.

In fact, they all did. With six pairs of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.

This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”

Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.

“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.

Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.

“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.

Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.

“Y/n…” you revealed.

“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.

Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.

And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”

They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.  

They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.

“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!

“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.

A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.

This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.

“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”

They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”

Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.

“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. “THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”

“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”

“Aye, never again…sister.”

#lotr x reader #fellowship x reader #lord of the rings x reader #hobbit x reader #the hobbit x reader #Tolkien x reader #middle earth x reader #Legolas x reader #Aragorn x reader #Boromir x reader #frodo x reader #lord of the rings #lotrdaily #lotr movies #the hobbit #elves #hobbit #legolas #Legolas imagine #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 16

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 16 - This Venerable One is Stunned

This really couldn't be blamed on the beast-like Mo Ran. Anyone in such a claustrophobic space, trapped with someone he'd slept with countless times - regardless of whether the sex meant anything, whether it was out of revenge or out of love - smelling the familiar smell on the other person, he could never help the lurching feeling in his heart.

Besides, Mo Ran himself was a bastard.

Shi Mei was his white moonlight. He absolutely couldn't bear to touch it, and he doesn't want to destroy it.

He patronized Chu Wanning and only Chu Wanning. All of his darkness, bestial-lust, and bone-crushing rage could be vented with no fear of repercussion.

He crushed him, tore him up underneath him, forcing him to take part in all the tricks he would never try with Shi Mei.

In his previous life, every time he saw Chu Waning tilting his neck and moving his throat, he felt he was about to degenerate into a vicious beast that only knew how to drink blood. He wanted to bite the man's throat open, grind his teeth, suck out his blood, chew through his flesh and bones.

He didn't care about Chu Wanning. He could defile him as much as he wanted.

At the end of it all, his body had developed a habit. Every time he smelled the scent of Chu Wanning's body, his stomach would feel like it's on fire, his heart would itch, and he wanted to tie him down to a bed and fuck him senseless.

There was a moment of silence in the coffin and Mo Ran's racing heart could be heard.

He knows that Chu Wanning's face was very close. He could feel the other's breathing. If he bit it right now, Chu Wanning wouldn't be able to break free, but. . .

Better to forget it.

Mo Ran leaned back and distanced himself from Chu Wanning. It wasn't really easy considering there wasn't really much room in the coffin.

"I'm sorry, Shizun." Mo Ran snorted and pretended to be meek. "I didn't expect the coffin to - shake!"

As soon as he spoke, the coffin slanted again. Mo Ran rolled into Chu Wanning's arms again with a grunt.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran retreated again, the coffin shook again, and the cycle continued several more times.

"Un-fucking-believable." Mo Ran leaned back again.

The golden boy and girl were probably walking on a slope, and the inside of the coffin wall was slippery. He didn't hold on for too long, Mo Ran helplessly rolled on top of Chu Wanning.

"Shizun. . ." He bit his lip, feeling aggravated.

This guy originally looked kind of cute as a young man. If he deliberately hid his wolf tail and act like a puppy, he could actually pretend to be similar.

Chu Wanning didn't say a word.

Mo Ran really didn't want to roll around again, so he simply gave up the struggle: "I didn't mean to."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran whispered: "But the wound on my back still hurts so much. . ."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning seemed to sigh gently. The gongs and drums outside were a bit noisy and Mo Ran wasn't sure whether he had really heard it.

But the next moment, Mo Ran smelled a clearer fragrance of begonia flowers, and Chu Wanning's hand wrapped behind his back, blocking the gap that he might have crashed into.

However, it wasn't a hug. Chu Wanning's arms were empty, deliberately avoiding physical contact with Mo Ran. Only the clothes and Mo Ran were touching each other, but this posture was still somewhat intimate.

"Be careful, don't hit it again." The voice was heavy, like porcelain soaked in a stream, with a kind of ancient demure. If he listened to it without hatred in mind, it was actually very nice.

". . . Alright."

Suddenly no one spoke anymore.

At this point, Mo Ran was still a young teenager who wasn't as tall as an adult, so he leaned in Chu Wanning's arms, his forehead fitting underneath Chu Wanning's chin.

This feeling was both familiar and unfamiliar.

What was familiar was the person lying next to him.

What was unfamiliar was the position they were in.

Once upon a time, the past events all transpired in Wushan Hall where he was lying on Life-Death Peak. The Immortal Emperor, who had become a lonely man, held Chu Waning in his arms for dear life in the long, breathless darkness.

At that time, he was already higher than Chu Wanning, and his strength was greater than that of his shizun's. His arms were like iron bars of a cage, locking the little remaining warmth in his arms, like holding the last fire burning in the world.

He bowed his head and kissed Chu Wanning's long black hair, and then greedily attached himself to his face, burying deep into the neck of the other, biting and nibbling without pity.

"I hate you, Chu Wanning. I hate you so much."

There was some hoarseness in his voice.

"But you're all I have left."

A violent smash shattered Mo Ran's memories. The sound of gongs and drums suddenly stopped, and there was dead silence surrounding them.

"Shizun. . ."

Chu Wanning stretched out his hand. He touched his lips, and said solemnly: "Don't talk, we're here."

Sure enough, there was no sound of footsteps outside, and there was only dead silence.

Chu Wanning's fingertips ignited in a cluster of pale golden flames and stroked the wall of the coffin to make a narrow opening, just large enough for two people to see through.

Sure enough, they were carried to the outskirts of Caidie Town. The earth temple dedicated to the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was already densely packed with coffins. The fragrance of the butterfly powder in the air became even denser, floating into the coffin through the wood.

Mo Ran suddenly felt something was wrong: "Shizun, do you think that the scent here, as well as the scent in the illusion, seems to be a bit different from the smell in Young Master Chen's coffin?"

". . . What do you mean?"

Mo Ran was more sensitive to the smell. He said: "When we were on the north mountain, the moment the coffin opened, the smell that floated out was very good. Considering it was the butterfly fragrance incense, there was nothing to make me dislike it. But since entering the illusion, I always felt that the smell was similar, but there were some subtle differences. I couldn't figure out what was different, but now. . . I think I probably know."

Chu Wanning looked at him sideways: "You don't like the smell?"

Mo Ran stuck against the gap, still staring outside, and then said: "Yeah. I haven't liked the smell of incense since I was a child. The smell here, and in the illusion, isn't the hundred butterfly fragrance poweder at all, but a special high fragrance used by the people of Caidie Town to burn when worshiping the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. Look there—"

Chu Wanning followed his line of sight and looked at the clay incense burner in front of the earth temple. Sure enough, three arm-thick vertical incense sticks were burning, and they were passing a sweet smell into the wind.

The people in Caidie Town were good at making all kinds of powders from various flowers, so all the fragrances that are used to pray to the gods were made in their own town, and they don't buy them from other places. Since the flowers used are all planted in the outskirts of the town, the smell that turned out wasn't that different from something made by an amateur.

Chu Wanning pondered: "Could it be that the fragrance in the coffin of Young Master Chen had nothing to do with the smell in the illusionary realm?"

Before he could ponder the details of this new discovery, a dazzling red light from the earth temple interrupted his thoughts. The two people hiding in the coffin looked together and saw that the temple was shining brightly, reflecting its brilliant surroundings. There was a row of iron shelves on the side of the temple with red lotus lanterns for making wishes. Those lotus lanterns had originally been extinguished, but now they were all being lit up, one by one.

The boys and girls guarding all the coffins knelt down one after another, chanting: "The Master of Ceremonies has come down to earth to guide us wild ghosts and lonely souls to be free from eternal suffering, to meet a good man, to lie in the same coffin, and to be companions in the Underworld."

Through the sound of chanting, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost in the temple radiated golden immortal light. Then, she lowered her eyelids, slowly moved the corners of her mouth, and leapt off the offering platform.

Her movements were quite elegant and graceful, her appearance a million times more elegant

It's a pity that the body was made of mud and she was too heavy. The girl's house, with a bang, was smashed into a big hole in the ground.

Mo Ran: "Pfft."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost also seemed dissatisfied with the placement of her feet. She stared at the big pit in the ground for a while before pacing out of the pit and straightening her clothes.

She looked like a woman wearing heavy makeup, dressed in red and green, quite cheerful. In the dark night, it turned its neck and came to the hundred people buried in coffins. The night breeze was full of the stench of corpses. She seemed to be in a better mood. She slowly opened her arms and let out a few giggles.

"If you believe in me and make offerings to me, you will be able to meet a good destiny and complete the lifelong event that you weren't able to complete during your life." The tender voice drifted in the night, and the ghosts kowtowed in excitement.

"Blessings of the Master of Ceremonies--"

"Please let the Master of Ceremonies bless this marriage--"

The pleadings were coming from all around her and the Master of Ceremonies seemed to be enjoying herself. She slowly moved among the rows of coffins, and her long nails scraped against the bright red vermilion lacquered coffin boards, making a sharp and ear-piercing sound.

Mo Ran was curious: "Shizun, I remember you said that demons, immortals, ghosts, gods, humans and the devil belong to the six realms, but this immortal doesn't like in heaven. How come she's with these ghosts in the underground instead?"

"Because it cares about ghost marriages, and her main food source is the offerings of the ghosts." Chu Wanning said. "Ghosts can greatly increase her power, otherwise she wouldn't be able to cultivate her immortal body in only a hundred years. With such benefits, she's happy to stay with her 'friends' in the underworld."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost walked around the group of coffins and returned to the front. The empty and tender voice rang again: "Open a coffin and I'll bless the marriage. Starting from the left."

Following its order, the first coffin on the left slowly opened, and the golden boy and girl were greeted by the two corpses inside staggeringly crawled out, and the gorgeous flaming red dress made the face of the dead look pale and lifeless.

The married couple slowly approached the Master of Ceremonies Ghost and knelt down.

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost put her hand between them and said: "In the name of the master of ceremonies, I grant you this marriage after death. From now on, you will be husband and wife, man and woman together in joy."

Mo Ran rolled his eyes and muttered: "If you can't write a poem, don't do it. It should be a good marriage vow, so why does it sound so lewd?"

Chu Wanning said coldly: "You have a dirty mind."

Mo Ran shut up.

But it didn't take long for the Master of Ceremonies Ghost to personally prove that it wasn't Mo Ran who was dirty-minded, but the god in charge of the marriage who was the lewd one.

He saw that the married corpses seemed to have swallowed some kind of aphrodisiac. They were already two dead ghosts, but suddenly they began to tear each other’s clothes, feverishly kissing and embracing each other passionately. They were entangled so shamelessly in public.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

"In the name of the Master of Ceremonies, I give you the joys of heaven. If Yin and Yang can intermingle, what's the harm with life and death!"

The cry of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost became more shrill and much louder.

The movements of the two corpses became more and more exaggerated. After removing the clothes, the male corpse was actually full of passion, full of energy, and no different from a living person.

Mo Ran was stunned: ". . . Is this. . . fucking. . . okay???"

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#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi novel #yaoi #bl novel #chu wanning #mo ran #ranwan #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun

[wondersofdreaming]

Keepsake

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person)

Word count: 1.827

Warnings: Death, loss, hopelessness, light cursing, sadness, melancholy, grief, heartache, mourning.

Author’s note: This story was inspired by the song 'Everglow' by Coldplay.

Do me a favour and listen to the song, while reading this, I'll link to the different versions, depending on your mood.

Everglow (original) by Coldplay

Everglow (acoustic) by Coldplay

Everglow (instrumental) by Alexandre Pachabezian

The links are for Spotify, if they don't work try this link for YouTube

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the wife, son and Elijah Reed, who are figments of my imagination.

A massive, MASSIVE, thank you to my beloved angel, @radaofrivia, for giving me the idea from just a few thoughts, for sitting through with me while I wrote this, for giving me advice and for just being there.

Please check out her stories right here: RADA'S MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

(Young Syverson, picture credit to @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - find it here)

Oh, they say people come Say people go This particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone And the world may not know Still I see you, celestial

Lyrics are from Everglow by Coldplay.

The looming grey clouds were moving closer towards him. He could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling thunder. Before long it started to rain and lightning lit up the entire house. The dirt road was flooded in no time, giving the crops the liquid nourishment they needed.

The former army captain was restless. It was on days like these he missed him, more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t sit still and had planned on working on the house, but the coming storm was putting a stop to that. Instead, he sat on the porch swing he built with Elijah when Lucas bought the house.

The Syversons had moved to their farm when Lucas was 4. A few days into the move, their neighbours had stopped by with some casserole, and to welcome them to their community. Mr and Mrs Reed also had a son who was a few months younger than Luc. Elijah had hidden behind his mother’s leg, a little shy, but with some encouragement he greeted Lucas.

“I’m Lucas, but my baby sister can’t say it yet, she keeps babbling Luc, so if it’s easier, you can call me Luc too.”

“I’m Elijah.”

Sy remembered he was trying so hard to pronounce his new friend’s name. He smiled at the memory, the name had been permanent in Lucas’ mind, only using Elijah, when he was mad at him or thinking he was about to do something stupid, which he did often.

“Lija, wanna play?” Lucas asked awkwardly.

“What?” Elijah looked profoundly confused. “I… don’t know.”

“Go on, son. It’s okay,” Mr Reed tried to encourage him.

“Come with me, Lija. I wanna show ya somethin’.”

Lucas had shown Elijah his new toy tractor that his parents had given him for his birthday. The two young boys had played together, and before long were inseparable.

A round yellow object in the palm of his hand. He was fiddling with it. The coin was always in his pocket, so he could keep his best friend close to him at all times. It was an old arcade coin that you could plot into any machine and play one game.

The two best friends had each gotten a dollar’s worth of coins, but the man at the ticket booth had miscounted, so Sy had gotten an extra coin, which the two friends had fought over during their time in the arcade. Lucas being the protector he was, lost to Elijah on purpose, so his friend won the coin.

“I’ll savour it, it’s going to be my lucky coin!” Elijah has announced.

Syverson swung the porch swing with his booted foot. He stared at the coin, wondering why he had been the lucky one. Luc shook his head faintly, his face full of pain and sorrow.

The coin became a thing that decided their fate. When the boys couldn’t agree on something, they would flip the coin. The picture side was heads and the text ‘No cash value’ side was tails. It might have been worth nothing, but it was a priceless item to the two friends.

“Heads: I ask her on a date, tails: you ask her,” Elijah flipped the yellow coin and covered the back of his hand as it landed. The two teenagers looked over at the brunette cheerleader, who was laughing with her friends. Prom was upon them and they both wanted to ask her. Elijah lifted his hand, it was heads.

The dumb coin was always on Elijah’s side. Lucas let out a soft laughter of the memory. Elijah’s face had been priceless, Sy wished he had taken a picture of it. It had been Elijah’s first kiss that night.

When Lucas decided to enlist, Elijah followed him, even with a lot of arguing against it from Sy’s side. He didn’t want his best friend anywhere near a warzone but in the end, he was glad that Lija was there with him through every hardship during training, when they lost people on their team, when they had to carry the dead back to base, it was better to have a friend by your side and share the pain with.

It didn’t take Syverson long to rank up and become captain. He ended up leading a large group of soldiers in a village in Iraq, with Elijah as his lieutenant, he felt like he could conquer the world.

During one of their trips home, Sy had bought a house he wanted to renovate, maybe start a family in. Elijah had spent every moment he could, helping Lucas with the house. It had made them closer as friends, and they had heartfelt talks about their future. Elijah wanted to come home and help his ailing parents with the farm, maybe get into breeding horses, preferably racehorses. Sy hadn’t thought of his future in that sense by then. He just wanted to relax, drink beer and ride his motorcycle.

There was hardly a moment in Lucas’ life where Elijah wasn’t a part of it. Elijah was his best friend, and if he had to be a little girly, they were BFFs. His best friend’s presence had made every moment special, made them better. It was the hardest part, to not have Elijah by his side anymore. He missed Elijah’s silly, huge and sometimes irritating grin, which somehow made the world seem a bit brighter during the dark times. Elijah made his life easier… he just made it better to have a friend to share everything with.

His heart had broken in a million pieces when the building collapsed on top of his best mate.

“Captain, we need a scouting team. I’m taking three soldiers towards those buildings and see if there are enemies up ahead,” Elijah had suggested.

“Lieutenant, I make the orders here. I’m going,” Lucas commanded.

“Heads or tails, Luc,” Elijah picked out the coin from his breast pocket.

“This is no time for such thing, Lija,” the captain grumbled.

“This is the perfect time, Luc. We promised that whenever we couldn’t agree on something, we would use the coin. So, heads or tails, captain Syverson.”

“Heads.”

The coin had landed on the tails side. Lucas had cursed the coin, fuck, shit, crap, dammit!

“It’s my turn to protect you, Luc. I’m not the scrawny little kid anymore, let me show you!”

Elijah had gathered three soldiers and run between two concrete buildings with a big smile on his face. Sy would never forget the smile. It was a grin of pride and determination. And it was the last time Lucas would ever see his best friend.

Moments later a huge explosion shook the ground they were standing on. Sy watched with horror as the buildings collapsed, trapping Elijah and his team. What they didn’t know then was that the impact with the concrete walls had killed him instantly.

The rest of the soldiers watched as their captain went on his knees. Utter despair and anguish plastered on his face, tears about to escape the corners of his eyes. The usual strict army captain, the man with the muscles, the tough guy who could break you with a stare, was breaking down.

“Lija…” he whispered into the dust-filled space, his voice breathless like somebody knocked the air out of his lungs.

At night he had screamed in pain of the loss of his most beloved friend. His days were filled with hopelessness as he prepared to fly home with Elijah’s corpse in a coffin. The nights only brought nightmares, so he started writing a letter to his best friend and thinking of how to tell Elijah’s parents.

“Dear Lija. I can’t believe you’re… Shit, I can’t even write the word. Just a four-letter word, and yet I can’t fucking write it down on a piece of paper. I wish I could have taken your place, man. It should have been me. I hate you for forcing me to pick a side on that stupid coin. I hate you for being so brave. I hate you for wanting to protect me. Fuck you for dying. Fuck you for leaving me. Here. All alone. What about your parents? How am I going to tell them that you’re… how am I going to face them? You are and will always be my best friend. I wish you could go back to your parent’s farm on your own two legs, not in a fucking box. I miss you, Lija. You’re the closest thing to a brother I will ever get. So rest in peace and keep the seat next to you warm, I’ll see you on the other side. - Luc.”

Lucas had sneaked the letter into Elijah’s breast pocket of his uniform before they had shut the coffin. The coin that Elijah had on him, had been put in a plastic bag with the rest of his belongings, prepped to be given to his next of kin, his parents. But Lucas took the yellow token. He needed a memento to remember his best friend by, something that he could keep with him always. A keepsake.

It had taken every ounce of courage for Lucas to step up to the front door of the Reed’s farmhouse. A house he was so familiar with and had so many adventurous sleepovers in Elijah’s space-themed bedroom. He could smell Mrs Reed’s famous peanut brittle, making it harder for him to knock, but he did it anyway. Standing there in his military uniform, he told the two people, who had acted as a second set of parents to him, that their only son had died heroically in battle. Lucas stood frozen, watching them mourn the loss of their son. He was about to step away to give them space, but Mrs Reed grabbed his wrist and brought him into the hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.

“Was he in pain?” Mrs Reed asked, breaking Lucas’ heart all over again.

“No, ma’am. It happened really fast.”

Sy fiddled with the arcade coin. Having zoned out the thunder, not noticing the storm had come and gone. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon. It was a peaceful ending to an emotional day.

A loud wailing came from inside the house. The front door opened and out came his beautiful wife with their young son in her arms. His face was stained in tears. The tiny boy reached towards his father the minute he saw him. In his father’s arms was the only place the boy was happy and content. Sy’s face broke into a happy grin at the sight of his son. His tiny fingers trying to grab the coin in the former captain’s hand.

“This,” Sy showed it to his son, “will be yours when you’re old enough not to eat it.”

He chuckled at the frustrated look on the boy’s face. Sy kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I love you, Elijah.”

#Henry Cavill #This man #I need a drink #Captain Syverson #Henry Cavill x female reader #Henry Cavill x reader #Henry x female reader #Henry x reader #My story #Keepsake #Everglow #Fanfiction #henrycavillfanfic

[tenthgrove]

La Squadra 30s AU: Overview

(A/N: So I literally thought of this on a whim and decided to write it down. You're welcome to use this AU for your own stories since I probably won't, but please give credit where due.)

The year is 1934. In the throws of the Great Depression, poverty and crime continues to be rife across the urban east of America. But as many titans of the mafia world collapse with the end of prohibition, the growing syndicate known as Passione begins to swell in numbers and wealth like never before.

The recent immigrant, Risotto Nero (age: 28, real name: Rosario Nero) was picked up practically at the dock by Passione for his formidable appearance and fighting prowess, not to mention lack of other viable prospects in America. Indeed, his journey across the Atlantic was most certainly an act of desperation, but what he was running from, he won't say. Risotto guards the infamous Passione nightclub after which the syndicate gets its name. He also receives a number of orders to pursue the group's enemies in a more... direct manner of confrontation, and there are high hopes for his career as a Mafioso owing to his great sense of honour and budding reputation as unkillable. The greatest hindrance to this goal is at present, a simple matter of communication. He knows barely a word of English.

Hoping to remedy this issue is a Passione associate known to the group by the codename Prosciutto (age: 37, real name: Christopher Perkins), Professor of English Literature at a local university. Why this mild-mannered, rather stuffy young teacher is beholden to Passione is anyone's guess, though he staunchly rebukes any claims of Italian heritage. His impeccable skill at the language, however, speaks for itself. Christopher supports the syndicate financially through his great inherited wealth, as well as providing alibis for its members, many of whom are filed through the corrupt institute as 'students.' Prosciutto is one of the few Risotto would call a friend, and the two meet regularly for Risotto's english lessons. Unknown to anyone but the leaders of Passione, is the truth behind Professor Perkins' unfortunate predicament. In truth, Prosciutto is both a murderer and a patricide, his victim- his own father, the former Don of Passione. Back in 1920 when the Don was found dead in his apartments, it was dubbed the murder mystery of the decade. The case has since gone cold, however, all thanks to the new leadership of the syndicate.

Nowadays, Prosciutto finds solace in his students, of which he hopes the young post-boy he nicknames Pesci (age: 15, real name: Peppi Sciaccia) will soon be joining. Pesci is a poor but cheerful boy, raised by his ailing mother and doting grandparents. The identity of his father is subject to many jokes in the family, some even saying the man was a murdered mafia don whose illegitimate children were all whisked away to be raised in secret, but in truth, Pesci has no idea who he is. Anyway, he recently found work as a post-boy for the university campus, catching the eye of Professor Perkins for his polite and helpful attitude. The professor now tutors him regularly in the hope he might receive a scholarship once he reaches 18, and obtain a good career that would lift his family out of poverty. A pity that Passione, with it's secret ties to the institute, has its eye on the boy as well, and is using him to carry orders without his knowing.

Meanwhile in the Passione nightclub, one Illuso (age: 30, real name: Michelle Illuso), works his fraud. He is an attendant at the casino, though in truth he has full permission of the club's owners to scam and steal from his customers. His talents come from his side-hustle as a magician, tricks he frequently shows off to his victims as a diversionary tactic. His partner in crime is Formaggio (age: 26, real name: Danny Fabbri), a popular Jazz musician at the bar who frequently assists in the swindling. Formaggio, so nicknamed for his unbearably cheesy personality, was until recently impoverished, until coming across the abandoned loot of a bank heist totalling at $50,000. Passione would have killed him if they realised he had taken the whole lot, but instead they simply requisitioned his services at the nightclub. He continues to indulge his newfound wealth in secret. Illuso and Formaggio are friends by necessity to Risotto, who steps in to save their asses whenever a swindle goes wrong. They're trying to improve his social life by taking him out in his free time, but the friendship is a little stony due to the language barrier. Neither Illuso or Formaggio are entirely fluent in Italian, even less the thick Sicilian Risotto speaks.

A few streets away from the Passione Club lies a rather innocuous looking flower shop run by a pair of quote on quote "brothers in law" nicknamed Sorbet (age: 40, real name Nicolo Farina) and Gelato (age: 35, real name: Elia Farina - taken after an unofficial marriage to Sorbet). The pair are quite beloved in the neighbourhood, a kindly, approachable pair of businessmen who would happily offer their wares for free to those experiencing tragedy, but in truth the flower shop is a front for a life of criminality. The couple offer a variety of services to various local mafias, Passione included, and it is known in their past they were a ferocious pair of assassins. A murdered man's coffin is most often adorned with flowers sold from their shop, and quite frequently, his end was delivered by a hitman found through their network, purchased with a large commission, naturally. In terms of murder themselves, however, Sorbet and Gelato have long ago put down their guns, the reason quite domestic.

Sorbet and Gelato have one son, who they adoringly nickname Ghiaccio for his icy temperament (age: 18, real name: Arthur White). Ghiaccio was kicked out by his impoverished biological family at just age 8, after which he broke into the flower shop for shelter and was promptly taken in by the owners. The couple used their contacts to forge papers stating that Ghiaccio was the child of Sorbet and his late wife (who of course, never existed). Ghiaccio is incredibly zealous about keeping up this false story, to the point of putting on a fake Italian accent to visitors which is quite frankly, hilarious. Sorbet and Gelato are both very insistent that Ghiaccio stay out of mob life and as a result, sent him to university under the professorship of Christopher Perkins. They have no idea how much closer to the criminal underworld they've just pushed him. Ghiaccio's best friend is Pesci, who he beat up after Pesci accidentally drove his bike into him on campus. Sorbet and Gelato were incredibly angry with him for this and forced him to make amends, leading to the unlikely friendship. They take shifts at the flower shop together when Sorbet and Gelato are out on dates.

Finally, there is Melone, (age 25, real name Harry Nelson) who gets his nickname from his absolutely terrible handwriting when writing out his real surname. Melone is, quite frankly, a quack physician, operating illegally under a myriad of fake identities throughout the city. He made the mistake of swindling some senior Passione members and ended up being forced to run narcotics for them, a surprisingly easy task considering cocaine is still considered a perfectly good medicine at this point. He is a frequent at the Passione Bar through which he knows Formaggio and Illuso, as well as a student at the same university Prosciutto works at, which he is attending in an attempt to learn some actually viable medical knowledge. Against the odds he has managed to befriend the professor, with whom he discusses the many gruesome crimes the group perpetrates. There are rumours, it is said, that Passione wants to establish an assassination squad, and with many of the more obvious choices already known to the police, it is said some more unconventional individuals may be chosen for the role.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #illuso #prosciutto #pesci #melone #ghiaccio #risotto nero #sorbet and gelato

[starlight-vixen-emiko]

Mosh Pit

ao3 ff.net

Oh thank god I finally finished something.......Hello everyone! I know it’s been awhile but I was dealing with personal stuff that was blocking my writing...But then I recently hit a breakthrough and then I started working on a bunch of Lukanette WIPs again...So I am back, and I am back with a vengeance!

And I just published my first genderbent Lukanette fanfiction...Finally!...Well technically I got a bunch of other genderbent Lukanette fanfictions in my files but let’s see how well this one does first.

So without further ado, enjoy!

~~~~~

Marin felt truly guilty as he sped on his Vespa as fast as he could for the Kitty Section concert. He could hear the music miles away and knew the concert hall was packed. Marin cursed to himself, wishing he didn't have to go to that internship and wishing he could've been the first one to see Luci and the others perform.

Thankfully the parking lot had almost no activity as he parked his Vespa and ran for the concert hall. He threw open the door, and the receptionists immediately noticed him.

"You're Luci Couffaine's boyfriend!" One of the receptionists cried.

Marin panted and let out a grunt, and the two receptionists smiled at him.

"Well, head on in! You're the VIP after all!" The other receptionist said.

Marin didn't have to be told twice as he ran for the stage entrance and slammed the door behind him.

Meanwhile, Ayan, Nina, Kagami, and Adrienne were jumping with the crowd as Luci sang an upbeat rock song that caused the entire auditorium to shake. But in the middle of the excitement, Kagami expressed his concern.

"Where is Marin anyway?" Kagami asked. "He said he would be here just on time."

Amidst the excitement, Ayan calmed his inner party animal and pondered that question himself.

"Not sure," Ayan said. Suddenly he was a bit concerned himself.

Kagami and Ayan looked back to Luci, who was singing her heart out as all the guys cheered for her.

"Well, he better get here soon," Ayan said.

But Marin did make it. It's just the concert stadium was filled to the brim, and he was far in the back, trying to find a clear path to the front of the stage. But then Marin couldn't help but stop and be captivated by Luci's energetic melody. Marin had to listen until she sang the last lyrics. He smiled at her, feeling like an incredibly proud boyfriend.

"Thank you everyone!" Luci cried as she raised her fist in the air and everyone cheered.

Luci smiled in response to the audience's praise. She waited for the audience to quiet down before grabbing her guitar again.

"The next song is dedicated to the song of my heart," Luci said.

And Marin felt his heart accelerate as she started playing the first chords of their song. The young boy could barely move as her singing gave him goosebumps.

But after the first verse, a bright light shined at Marin, and he nearly fell over as he used his hand to protect his eyes. One of the stagehands must've turned stage lights on him and Luci.

Luci stopped singing as the music kept playing, and she locked eyes with Marin. She was indeed overjoyed that her muse finally showed up.

Marin gave a sheepish smile as he waved to her, and Luci started singing again. Singing her feelings to her muse and the star in her sky.

Marin pumped a fist in the air and cheered with everyone else. And then Marin heard someone cry, "Mosh pit!"

Marin squirmed slightly at the thought of a mosh pit. He just wasn't bold enough to do such a thing. But then he was utterly confused by the audience members turning to him. Marin raised his hands, but his message wasn't taken as the audience members grabbed him and carried him like a coffin.

Marin barely had time to react as his stomach turned while he was literally being held up and transported by many excited audience members. He tried to resist and jump off, but then he saw Luci again. Marin relaxed slightly and felt grateful the crowd didn't drop him. He was once again moved by Luci's music that it almost felt like he was floating.

Luci's singing became more passionate as the audience carried her boyfriend over to her. Marin didn't realize it until he was lifted up to stand on stage in front of Luci.

"The melody of my heart," Luci sang as she walked up to Marin.

Marin blushed uncontrollably as Luci placed her hands on him.

Marin tried to speak, but Luci's aqua blue eyes shined at him as she kissed him.

It was amazing! Luci kissed him even if the music was playing and the crowd was roaring. She kissed him like they were the only ones in the room. But Marin didn't care. He was enjoying the rush.

The kiss broke with Marin in such a lovestruck gaze as Luci winked at him and headed back to her bandmates to continue playing her guitar.

Marin still felt an incredible rush, and with a sigh, he fell backward. Thankfully the audience caught him.

"Marin!" Luci cried as she reached out to him. She felt guilty for letting her boyfriend fall like that, but Julien and Ross urged her to keep playing.

Marin felt like he was floating again as the crowd carried him. It was the greatest love that he ever felt, a love that made the stars align and fireworks go off. He didn't even notice his friends in the crowd.

"Let him go!" Cried a familiar voice. But Marin was still very out of it, and it would take him a bit to get back to reality.

"Let him go. He belongs to us!" Ayan cried.

Marin turned his head to see Ayan and Kagami moving through the crowd and grabbing hold of him. Kagami successfully set Marin back on his feet, and Ayan kept hold of Marin to keep him steady.

"Hey man, are you feeling alright?" Ayan asked as Marin was still in an incredible daze.

"Yeah," Marin said dreamily as they turned back to Luci.

Kagami got on Marin's other side, and both he and Ayan held on to Marin's arms as the crowd roared again.

"Let's hear it for Kitty Section!"

And with that, Marin nearly had his ears blown out as Ayan and Kagami screamed with the audience. Nina and Adrienne were right behind them, giving a modest cheer for Luci.

"I am still not used to loud concerts," Adrienne said with a sheepish smile.

Nina smirked and placed her arm around Adrienne. "It's all part of the experience."

And soon, Nina and Adrienne bounced and screamed with the rest of the audience until the final song finished.

"Thank you everyone!" Luci cried. "You have been the best audience."

Marin wanted to continue enjoying the high-speed concert fun. But he was overjoyed that now he and his rockstar girlfriend could finally spend time together. Luci put her guitar into a guitar case, and Marin was about to meet her on stage, but there was still one crowd of fans left. A crowd of fans chanted Luci's name. And Luci ran to the edge of the stage.

"Alright, one last mosh pit," Luci said with a determined smile.

She jumped on top of the crowd triumphantly, and the crowd held her up.

Marin had a bit of a mental panic as he ran up to that small crowd carrying his girlfriend.

"Hey you guys! Don't touch my girlfriend like that!" Marin cried.

But it was as if what Marin said fell on deaf ears as the crowd enjoyed carrying their idol like a queen. Marin could only watch from the edge.

"Give me back my girlfriend!" He cried again.

And as if Marin said the magic words, Luci reached the crowd's edge, and Marin caught his rockstar bridal style just in time.

Luci smiled so brightly as she was carried by the crowd of fans like a queen of rock into her muse's arms.

Marin was left totally off guard from this turn of events, but he blushed from his shining star smiling up at him and having her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Hello, my muse," Luci said. "We just had the best concert this year, and now I am finally in your arms again." She stroked her boyfriend's cheek and felt how warm his face was, but her boyfriend looked adorable, being all bashful.

"Come on," she said as she traced an outline on Marin's chest. "We should head backstage for a moment, and then we can all go out together.

Suddenly Marin felt energized and held Luci closer. "Alright, let's go!"

Marin eagerly ran out of the concert hall with Luci in his arms. Ayan and Nina watched as the two lovebirds headed out.

"Wow! Luci was giving Marin some serious bedroom eyes," Ayan said.

Nina gave her boyfriend a soft slap on the arm. "Ayan!"

Ayan chuckled a bit under his breath. "I'm joking!"

Then Kagami and Adrienne appeared beside them, and Ayan turned to Kagami and smiled. Kagami gave Ayan a look that showed he had an idea what the other guy was thinking about.

"Sort of," Ayan whispered.

~~~~~

Marin, Luci, and the others took a moment to regroup in the dressing room. This get-together was more than just deciding which restaurant to eat at.

"So this is your first-time crowd surfing, Marin?" Luci asked as she smiled while sitting and holding her knees to her chest.

As Marin blushed and looked away, Ayan and Kagami let out some soft chuckles.

"Yes, I guess it was," Marin said. And I honestly wouldn't want to do that again, he thought.

Luci did notice how shaken up her muse was, and she got up and went to him to hold his arm and nuzzle him.

"The show wouldn't have been a huge success without you, my muse," Luci said.

God, this girl drove Marin crazy in multiple ways.

"That was awesome for your first-time crowd surfing," Luci said as she smiled up at him.

Amidst Marin and Luci being romantic, Ayan slapped his forehead with his hand. "I could've gone crowd surfing too!" Ayan cried. "I missed the fun!"

Marin and Luci turned to their friend, and Nina moved next to her boyfriend. "I would love to go crowd surfing as well."

Immediately Ayan took Nina's hands and gave her a stern look. "I wouldn't want random guys touching you!"

"We can crowd surf together. It will be fine!" Nina cried.

Kagami let out another soft chuckle. "Crowd surfing sounds way too rowdy."

But then Adrienne got behind him and wrapped her arms around him while smiling, something that softened Kagami up.

"Marin did look like he was having a lot of fun though," Adrienne said.

Marin groaned under his breath as his friends continued their conversations about crowd surfing. Luci smiled and nuzzled Marin again before getting the attention of their friends.

"Guys, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I am starving after a big concert," Luci said.

All the friends promptly stopped their conversation and turned to Luci as if they were equally hungry.

"Yeah, let's not wait any longer. After sharing music with that massive audience, I need Chinese food, pizza, and Indian food," Luci said.

Suddenly all their friends collectively agreed. Marin smiled and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend as they walked out of the dressing room together.

"Besides, the next concert will be even bigger, and we can all crowd surf together," Luci said. "It will be so much fun!"

"Oh no!" Marin cried.

But Luci turned to Marin and smiled at him before placing her hand on his heart. "I will be with you, my muse," she said gently. "I always will."

Marin felt relieved. But Luci always made him feel grounded.

And if Marin did get injured, Luci would take care of him like the times she did before.

Either way, it was a win for him.

#lukanette #pro lukamari #genderbent lukanette #my writing #my fanfiction

[imaginesbymk]

“It’s 3AM, And I Miss You Like Hell.”

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Summary: Finn hasn’t been taking your death very well and has gone completely reckless, causing him to lose himself. Not even his brothers could help get him back to his feet. 

Pairing: Finn Shelby x Reader

Tags: angst, mentions of death, swearing, smoking, heavy drinking + prostitution

Non Requested

Word Count: 1,344

Author’s Note: this is a short one shot but it’s sad hour </3 pls leave a like/reblog & some feedback!!!

[gif credit]

It’s 3AM, and I miss you like hell.

So I went to the Garrison and drank out of the decanter.

“Wake the fuck up.” Finn groans as soon as his senses detected the familiar migraine from last night’s hardcore partying and boozing, and even the harsh slap Arthur gave on his cheek. Another hangover he has yet to subdue for another repetitive day.

“Where the fu-” Finn groans again, rubbing the tensioned spot, the most painful spot he couldn’t just massage away. “What time is it?”

“It’s time for you to wake the fuck up and freshen up. Tommy’s already got the Garrison reserved for the next meeting.”

Finn didn’t like taking orders from Arthur. He was too tough on him while Finn was too stubborn to think he couldn’t do better without. He smacks his pockets for his cigarettes, and places one in his mouth, then smacks his pockets again for a lighter.

The sounds of heels clanging against the Garrison floors made Finn jolt right awake in fear. Polly was someone Finn didn’t wanna piss off. 

Polly gives a side eye to Finn before taking her shades off. “Morning, Finn. Or should I recall it’s two in the afternoon.” She scowls at the state he was in. A groggy, hungover mess. “You look like your father.”

“When hasn’t the Garrison ever been reserved?” Finn wrings out his shirt before throwing it over his head.

“You’ve got two minutes to toss the attitude out the window, Finn. Come on,” Arthur smacks him in the back of his head before he could even have another second to fit his head through the shirt hole. “Rub your eyes, put your bloody shirt on, and get the fuck up.”

It’s 3AM, and I miss you like hell. 

So I came to see you during the late hours.

You slumped your way to the front and turned the knob, finding no one but Finn standing at the steps, eager to just see you at such a late hour. You found your way into Finn’s sleep, and something unimaginable had happened in his dream. He woke up thinking it was a sign, and had a coat worn over his sleeping pajamas when he showed up at your front door.

“Finn, what is it?” you scratched your head.

“Sorry, I-” Finn cleared his throat, noticing how you were in your sleeping clothes, your hair in tangles from tossing around from side to side. Still, he looked at you like you were an angel above all. 

You nodded your head, urging for him to respond quicker. “Yes, Finn?”

“I felt like something was wrong, so I came here.”

You raised a brow. “Finn?”

“I mean, something happened today, and I never got the chance to check up on you.”

“Now’s not a good time.”

“I know,” he nodded. “You mind if I rest on your couch? I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

Despite his family being listed as dangerous to even be feared by anyone else, you wouldn’t wanna live with the idea of leaving Finn to drive back to his home late at night. You opened the door all the way to let him in.

It’s 3AM, and I miss you like hell. 

The man with the shovel covered your coffin with dirt.

Finn was there when you died. Your cause of death was worse than what Finn saw his night terror. In his dream, you were pushed. In reality, you jumped. 

In the clash, you were the last to chime in, helping Finn take down an enemy. Finn was the aim, but you were tagged by accident, opening up a fresh wound on your chest that could fit nothing else smaller but deadlier than a bullet. Finn didn’t scream like an animal, he didn’t lunge at the shooter. He could have crouched on the ground to hold you as you died in his arms -  but could only stay frozen stiff while Isaiah and Aberama took over.

It’s 3AM, and I miss you like hell. 

Even the girls who lay with me could never compare.

“You like it?” Finn looks up from the wooden floor. He could tell that the girl had done her own makeup, and her hair was down to her shoulders. Skin was visible, the silks of her dress were easy to tear off. She was pretty. She wasn’t you, though.

“Yeah,” Finn scratched his head, leaning back in his chair as the girl sat on his desk. “I like fuckin’ everything.”

It’s 3AM, and I miss you like hell.

But how were my brothers able to cope with it faster than I could count to ten?

“Finn.” This was the tenth time Arthur and Tommy had walked in the Garrison to see a blacked out Finn lying on one of the booths, his shirt buttoned open, his pants undone, barefoot, countless bottles of gin crowding the table. Did Finn even remember to lock his front door the night before? 

“Finn!” Tommy slaps him so hard he awoke, and gripped him by the chin.

Finn reacted, immediately pulling his gun from the holster. Before a clicking sound could be pulled, Arthur was already pinning him against the walls. “Finn-”

“Fuck off, both of you-” Finn slurs.

“Oi!” Tommy smacks him in the cheek. ‘You stop that. I’m looking at myself when you’re like this. You stop it right now.”

“You’re talking to me like I’m still the child you, Arthur and John always excluded—”

“That is because you’re acting like one,” Tommy says. His blood turned cold after hearing his name. “And don’t you fuckin’ speak of him like that. He would be doing exactly what we’re doing.”

“I said both of you fuck off!”

“Arthur, put him down. He’s not a street kid,” Polly says from the front door.

“Dear God...” Ada and Lizzie followed behind her. “Tommy, we’ll wait in the other booths. Will Finn be joining?”

After hearing his name brought in the question, Tommy and Arthur turned back to Finn, who was still pinned against the walls, gasping heavily they could smell the mix of booze and something so foul that it had to be morning breath.

“Arthur, you’re starting the meeting. I’ll drive Finn home.” 

Finn’s eyes trailed over to Tommy as he towered over him. “Tom, I-” Arthur releases Finn, and he drops to the ground with a loud thud.

It’s 3AM, and I miss you like hell. 

But I see you in my dreams, or behind me when I look in the mirror, or even in the faces of women I pay to fuck. 

At least that’s your way of sticking around.

Tommy and Finn never said a word to each other for the rest of the drive home. He was surprised he didn’t belch out any vomit onto the floor or even in Tommy’s car. It wasn’t that he was trying not to, he hadn’t felt a thing. No nausea, no migraine. 

So what about the ache in his heart? 

Tommy parks beside the lamppost in front of the townhouse. If he stood up, so would Finn. If he could yell at him like a parent punishing their child, he could. But Tommy wastes no breath unless he carried the facial features of his young boy. 

But when he looks at the hungover and dead-souled Finn, his face softens.

“Finn.” All he saw was a boy trapped in a man’s body, or maybe the other way around. He meant what he said when told him he sees himself through Finn’s grieving. He could understand why, an endless cycle of grief was the worst kind of hell. If Grace never left Tommy’s heart, if Arthur will never see anyone else like a father, and if Michael is the only child Polly can call her own - then perhaps they could all understand why.

"It’s all right, Finn.” All it took was a hand on the shoulder. Tommy Shelby watched his youngest brother shamelessly break down in front of him and let out a soft cry. “I miss them too.”

—

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[imaginesmai]

Arvin Russell - Bad feeling

Requested by an anon, here it goes! I tried my best, hope you like ❤ Third time I post this, I swear I’m gonna burn Tumblr

Plot: Arvin is worried about Lenora, so he goes to you for advice. You don’t get too far before tragedy strikes the Russell house.

Warnings: SPOILERS OF TDATT, IF YOU DON’T THEM STOP READING THE WARNINGS AND THE FIC, that scene of Lenora’s death.

“So it’s just – throwing up? Nothing else?”

Arvin shook his head as he hid his hands in his denim jacket’s pockets. Looking around as if someone would suddenly pop out of the bushes, he confirmed that Lenora was just throwing up and complaining about feeling a bit bad at the stomach. You knew he hoped you could tell him the solution, even if you hadn’t seen the girl since she started feeling sick. No one had, because she had started feeling that way just before church, and Arvin had been the only one talking with her.

With the vague explanation he was giving you, you had a bunch of possibilities. Being the doctor’s daughter had its good things, like you could help as much as your father. You hadn’t gone to school, as your father had home-schooled you since you were four. So it was normal that Arvin had come to you about the problem with his step sister, who was his whole world and happiness.

“I don’t know, Arv. It could be a stomach bug, or maybe she’s coming down with the flu” you gave him a small smile, trying to cheer him up. “From what you’re saying it’s probably nothing, don’t worry”

“Nah, it’s somethin’. She’s been acting all strange lately, and she don’t wanna tell me bout it” Arvin scoffed.

“Maybe she found out what happened with those boys, and is processing it”

A laughing kid passed by running, followed by her older sister and his cousin. Arvin stood quiet until they were far away. He was trying to keep his voice down, because he didn’t want the whole town knowing about Lenora. The small graveyard before starting the Sunday’s mass wasn’t the best place to avoid it, but he couldn’t wait no longer.

“She already knows, it’s not that”

“Arvin” you placed a gentle hand on his chin, meeting his worried eyes. “I’m sure it’s just some teenage drama. Do you want me to visit her after the lecture?”

“Your daddy won’ mind?”

To erase his doubts, you briefly pressed your lips against his, and he finally relaxed. Everyone ran to the church a moment after, the preacher finally appearing. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him with you into the temple, choosing a bench in the end since the one his family had chosen was already full.

You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was over worrying things. Not only because he couldn’t stand the sight of the preacher because of what he did to his grandma, but because it didn’t matter how many times you assured him how Lenora was fine; he would still worry, that was who he was.

Arvin Russell and you met when you were just kids, kids who didn’t have many friends. You were well known for everyone, but couldn’t say a word without stuttering and only your father had enough patience to listen to what you had to say. Arvin was new to Knockemstiff, his parents dead. He was a shy boy too, who only talked with his step sister. After his grandma asked your father for help, he said the boy didn’t have anything wrong; just a huge trauma. So he gave you the task to talk to him and befriend the new boy, who turned out to be as patient as your father.

Since then, it was rare to see you without the other. You had started dating after he dropped out of highschool, and now you were saving for, when the right moment came, moving in together.

During the lecture, Arvin’s hand, trapped between yours, twitched uncomfortable. He shifted on his seat a few times, earning some glances from the surroundings. You tried to whisper him that he didn’t have to worry so much, but he didn’t listen to you; if anything, he seemed ready to run out of the church. He managed to wait until the preacher said you could leave in peace, and even let you say goodbye to your dad.

The good man just smiled at you and told you to be careful, asking if he was meeting you for lunch. Arvin, who was shaking on his feet, shook his head, so you told him you were grabbing something outside. Once in the car, Arvin drove past all the traffic signals in town.

“I hope they don’t have to scrape my body from the road” you chuckled nervously, and Arvin lowered the speed.

“Sorry darlin’. I’m just – ‘ave a bad feeling bout it”

“You know that she’ll grow up some day, right?” you moved from your seat, closer to him. “She’s gonna have kids, and a husband, and you’re gonna have to sit through family dinner without threats”

“Still a long way there”

“Oh, not so long” you tried to pry something from him that wasn’t worry. “Haven’t you seen the soft smile she has been carrying around? Bet she has someone in her head”

“She doesn’t – Lenora ain’t like that” he scoffed, finally driving in an acceptable speed. “She’s… uh, she’s Lenora. She doesn’t –“

“What? Get crushes and think about boys? You know that she’s turning fifteen in two months, right?”

“Not if I don’ think bout it”

The ghost of a smile appeared in Arvin’s face, and you high fived yourself. He always looked beautiful when he genuinely smiled, not in one of those usual frowns that he always carried around. To you, he looked younger and happier, and made a fuzzy feeling appear in the middle of your chest.

“You asked me out when I was fourteen, and one year later –“

“I’m fuckin’ throwin’ you out the road now” he cut you off, sneaking a glance at you. “Lenora is datin’ no boys”

“And does she know or are you planning on scare all of them away?”

“I work fine by scarin’ them ‘way from you”

“But I only have eyes for certain Russell boy. She’s going to be more difficult”

Arvin finally gave you a belly laugh, and the sun shined brighter. You still had a few minutes in the car, which you filled by useless talk. He was insistent in treating you lunch, since you never accepted money for taking care of him or his family. Lunch with Arvin meant he had to work extra harder the next week to recover from whatever it took, but saying no meant him carrying you like a sack of potatoes to the café. You wouldn’t mind not eating anything, just a stroll around the woods with him was enough payment.

The conversation ended when the Russell’s house came into view. You let loose your seatbelt to reach in the back seat for you bag. It had the basics; some aspirins, bandages, alcohol, meds for the headache and the stomach, syringes and a thermometer. Arvin parked while you searched into it for the last object, that seemed to be buried deep down.

“I think I forgot the thermometer. You still have the one from your grandma?”

“You can look for it, I haven’ seen it” Arvin told you as he moved the car around.

“Damn, I hope she isn’t too –“

You didn’t finish your sentence as suddenly the car came into a stop and you were pushed forwards, with the bad luck of having your seatbelt off and slamming your head against the front part of the car. It left a throbbing pain in the middle of your forehead, a nasty bruise and some swelling in a few hours. Because you were too busy with the bag, you didn’t notice what made Arvin stop the car so suddenly.

The barn had its door open, something unusual since there were a few bad people who didn’t have problem in stealing from the humble houses. It let Arvin see what was inside, that turned out to be a bucket upside down. For a moment, he was ready to tell you to stay in the car or run to call for someone, take the gun for his father and search for any intruders. Then, he saw a body hanging from the ceiling and recognized Lenora’s dress.

He ran out of the car before fully stopping it, leaving you cradling your head. Your eyes lost focus for a solid second, everything turning blurry around and a feeling as if you were underwater. It was Arvin’s desperate scream that had you blinking yourself into the present.

“Y/N!”

The pure anguish on his voice made you stumble out of the car, your knees scraping with the rough floor when you couldn’t hold your balance. You held onto the vehicle until you saw what Arvin was screaming about. He had tears running down his cheeks, horrible sobs racking his body, that was shaking under Lenora’s weight.

You managed to get to him without falling again, messing with the end of the rope until it came loose. Lenora came crashing down on Arvin, who fell to the ground as his knees gave out. His whole body was shaking as he tried to sit right, cradling her head.

“Please, please” he cried out. “Lenora, wake up! Lenora!”

Prying the rope from her neck, you already knew the answer. There was a sickening blue bruise around her neck, with hints or purple. She didn’t move when you shifted her head and checked for a pulse.

Your fingers fell on flat skin.

-

There weren’t a lot of people in the backyard, not even the preacher, who had left shortly after the ceremony. The Russell expected him to stay for a bit longer, seeing the relationship between the young girl and him. He had been the only person who she talked out of her family, and they had been sure he was fond of her too. That came down quickly when he threw into the lecture that suicide was a coward way to go. Uncle Earskell had held Arvin the whole time, preventing him from throwing fists with the preacher; even if the man himself looked close to doing so.

Everyone left eventually, even your father, who had a business to attend. You hadn’t talked with Arvin since his grandma found you with Lenora’s body in the barn, but once your father left and said goodbye to the boy, you were forced to do so. You were dying to go home and lay in bed, sleeping off the throbbing feeling of the gash of your head. But Arvin had giving you a side glance, shy and pleading, and you told your father you would be meeting him later.

While they lowered the coffin, you stayed by Arvin’s side, eventually working your arm through his elbow in an attempt to comfort him. His grandma broke down and his uncle was quick to gather her into his arms, walking away so she could cry in peace. It was then just Arvin and you.

“I’m sorry, Arv” you whispered, rubbing his upper arm.

When your father, who had ran to the barn after being notified by a neighbour, confirmed what you already knew, you felt a crushing guilt it you. Maybe, if you hadn’t been so insistent in comforting Arvin you could have prevented it. Arvin always had a sixth sense to know when something was wrong before it actually happened. And you had ignored it.

“How’s your head?” he asked. You had never heard him sound so small unsure.

“Just a nasty bump and a small concussion. It’ll be healed in a few days”

“I didn’ meant for you to hit your head” Arvin confessed. “I’m so –“

“Hey, I don’t blame you” you turned around and looked up to his eyes. “No one does. What happened wasn’t your fault”

When tears rushed to his eyes you knew he had understood what you meant by it. He trapped you in a bear hug the next second, his whole body hiding between your arms. You shushed him when the first sob appeared, and then they appeared one by another.

Since you had found her in the barn, Arvin hadn’t cried. He had carried his body to the funeral’s parlour, had chosen the coffin when his grandma couldn’t even sit straight, and had put on a stone face through the ceremony. It was hard always being the strong one, to be so weary about everyone and never breaking down. He was glad he had you, so glad it only made him cry harder.

Grandma and his uncle went back to their house just before the sun came down, but you didn’t release Arvin. It was hard to explain how much he loved his sister, because everything he did or thought about was for her security.  

“Don’t leave me” Arvin suddenly said, making you go rigid with the express confession. “Please. Don’t – You’re the only thin’ I have left, and I can’t – I… I love you so much, that – “

“I love you too” you finished for him, the last sob breaking through. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not now or ever”

Arvin nodded against your shoulder a few times, interiorizing the words. The rational part of his brain that always worked before things happen, that was mildly drowned by the sorrow, was starting to understand that there was more about Lenora’s death to know that just a suicide. And he promised to himself, right there and then, that no one would ever take away another important person from him, not if he was around.

He wasn’t going to leave you either for as long as you had him.

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[aprilsrant]

Start Over | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N) has anger issues and a bad reputation that follows. Oliver seems to be the only one who hasn’t been on the receiving end of her outbursts and there might be a hidden reason for it.

WORD COUNT: 2,3k.

WARNINGS: Marcus Flint being an idiot and a missoginy brat, it’s kind of angsty towards the end. Maybe a curse word or two. There is a fight and a duel too. (If I miss any, let me know!)

REQUEST: can’t find it, but yes, this was requested.

A/N: This took me so long and I’m so sorry, but for some reason I couldn’t get this finished. Hope you enjoy it! Like, reblog or leave comment if you like, feedback is always appreciated!!

Also, I made the reader have a holly wand because details are important sometimes.

English is not my first language, there could be mistakes!

Gif is not mine!!

MASTERLIST.

For whatever stupid, possibly misogynist, reason, Marcus Flint never allowed girls to tryout for the Slytherin Quidditch Team, not even when he, and everyone else present, knew of their talent and how much it would benefit them. Now more than ever, with that Harry Potter kid catching every single Snitch flying round him, Flint’s team needed new members. And members that actually knew how to play and not those who would pay their way in. 

Once again, (Y/N) was waiting in the stands for the Slytherin Captain and the whole group attempting to grab themselves a spot. Arriving before them gave her an “advantage” and that was not being completely disregarded the minute Flint saw her in the midst of the line up following him like some kind of lost puppys. 

With nothing else to do than just stand round the edge of the Quidditch Pitch, (Y/N) looked up and watched as a few Gryffindors threw the Quaffle towards one of the three hoops. She didn’t even know why people kept trying out to be a Chaser in Wood’s team when the current three were the best they had. And they were all women. Who would have thought that girls could play that well, right? 

(Y/N) didn’t know why she continued to insist when she was aware that Flint would never let her be on the team. Maybe because it was her last year, or because she had a tiny spark of hope inside of her that something, pretty much a miracle, would happen and the boy’d change his mind, finally acknowledging that (Y/N) was better than the two Slytherin beaters together. 

“What are you doing here, (Y/L/N)?,” the voice of the Slytherin Captain brought her back from the train of thoughts. Glancing towards the Pitch, she realised that it was empty, the only Gryffindor there was Oliver Wood, seating in the opposite set of stands with a notebook and a pencil in his hand. Upon seeing Flint and the trail of Slytherins behind him, he rolled his eyes and quickly left his spot, steps faltering after hearing Marcus’s irritated tone. “I told you, multiple times may I remind you, that I don’t want girls in my team, and especially not those who want to be beaters.”

This was something she saw coming, of course, and she’d tried to assume it for the last couple of days every time the image of being rejected, again, would pop into her head, replaying the times were she had actually been rejected as if her own mind was trying to torture her.

She had also seen the other part coming, and she had tried to stop it. But in her defense, when Professor Snape interrogated her an hour later, Marcus Flint kind of deserved it. 

“Why not, Flint? I’ve been trying to get in the team ever since you became Captain and decided I wasn’t good enough after our fourth year,” (Y/N) had said, voice raising after more words left her mouth. With her broomstick in hand, she stepped down the stands and marched towards him. 

“You said it yourself, (Y/N), you weren’t, and still aren’t, good enough,” Marcus responded while shrugging his shoulders arrogantly and walking past her. 

“I was good enough, you prick, I was better than just good enough and you fucking know it.” All of the group that had gathered to try out turned their heads in her direction when she started to scream, whispers and shared glances expectant of the outcome of the argument. Pushing a third year in front of her out of her way, she kept walking, stopping only after she was face to face with Marcus. “And how can you be so sure I’m not adequate? You haven’t even let me fly around the Pitch for the last two years.”

Ignoring her, Flint commanded the two boys carrying the box full of equipment to leave it on the floor and start to warm up. 

“Can you… Can you, please, let me try this one time?,” (Y/N) whispered, burying her pride and dignity in the same coffin after the word please escaped from her mouth. 

“Now you’re begging, you are pathetic, (Y/L/N), and they say you’re supposed to be dangerous” the boy exclaimed, clearly enjoying seeing her so desperate. He walked towards her, his taller figure towering over the girl. “Let me tell you something. Both of us were on the team, right now one is the Captain and the other one… Well, I’m pretty sure you know your exact position in this whole thing. And that’s why you are not in my place, because you are not good enough.”

Her teeth, jaw and fists clenched at the same time, the rest of her body shaking slightly, lighting up on fire with every sentence Marcus sneered at her. 

From a young age she had people question her, her interests and her decisions, even her place in the House of ambition, many believing the girl to be “too soft” at first. That had changed after the start of her second year. If they wanted her to be violent, rash and reckless, that’s what they got. Now, every time her name was mentioned around Hogwarts, whispers and rumours would be shortly behind. Most of the things people said about her were incorrect, not even close to the truth, but she accepted them anyways. She took each one of the rumours and turned them into her truth.

For some (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was on the right path to become a Dark Witch, a pureblood longing to take on Lord Voldemort’s place and rule over the Wizarding World, torturing muggleborns and blood traitors. To others, she was the Devil’s offspring in the flesh, waiting for the right moment to raise the forces of hell upon Hogwarts. And they were the ones speaking of her mental state while coming up with ridiculous theories. Nonetheless, she had to admit it was a new kind of entertainment seeing the first years getting warned about her, bombarding them with false information and stupid allegations. But the laughs she would have from it on her own company didn’t erase the loneliness and the solemn feeling of having no one. 

Like the symbol of her house, (Y/N) was a creature of instinct. And like what people murmured about her, (Y/N) was also a creature of violence.

As only one can imagine, no one was shocked from the response Marcus Flint got. Not in words, or insults, which were regular, but in the form of a fist connecting with his cheek (although she had intended to hit the nose). 

One would think anger makes people a better fighter, all that pent up rage coming from nowhere and lashing out against your opponent it’s more damaging to you than the person you are fighting. Now, this was not (Y/N)’s first fist fight but that didn’t mean she knew what she was doing. Every time she had punched someone it had happened in the midst of uncontrollable wrath growing, attaching itself to the girl’s body, controlling her limbs, numbing her mind.

For a moment she closes her eyes, one thought in her mind, vanishing as quickly as it appeared, — I did it. Again —. When (Y/N) opens them, she notices the change of scenario, or positions. She is no longer standing on her feet, she is several metres away from her housemate, the back of her body on the receiving end of the harsh floor; the loud beating of her heart thundering in her ears, almost giving her a headache, swallowing the spell Flint had used on her. 

After rising from the grass, (Y/N) marches towards him, holly wand in her hand shooting hexes, barely missing its target. She’s about to whisper the Stunning Spell when someone from behind grabs her wrist, holding her back from trying to curse Marcus, whose responses are getting slower and scarcely protecting him. An arm sneaks around (Y/N)’s figure, distancing her from the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. 

Her elbow moves almost instinctively and hits the person behind her in the stomach, the arm around her waist retreating fast enough for (Y/N) to cast a protection charm and petrify Marcus Flint. 

Turning around, she sees none other than Oliver Wood, bending over his stomach with a hand clenching his right knee and gasping for air.

“What the bloody hell was that, Wood?”

“I was trying to help you!,” he manages to say while looking up at her.

“Help me? You were trying to stop me, you twat.”

“Exactly!,” Oliver shouts, making her move backwards, “Do you want to get yourself expelled, (Y/L/N)? Because if that’s what you want, you are doing an excellent job.”

She should have hexed him right there, no one else was on the Quidditch Pitch with them, except the handful of Slytherins and those weren’t the snitching types, but she didn't, surprising herself and everyone else watching them.

||| 

Later that night, after finishing the horrendous detention Snape had put her in —reorganizing his entire cabinet claimed by suspicious ingredients and potions with terrible smells, making the small space smell like rotten eggs and the Gryffindor Quidditch robes after a rough match—, looking at the moon and the landscape surrounding Hogwarts from the Astronomy Tower, she thought about the reasons to why she hadn’t raised her wand, or fist, to face Oliver. 

He wasn’t special. Yes, he was a great wizard, with problems in Potions and History of Magic, still quite good at Defensive spells but not that good to beat her if she was fully focused, he would be easy to defeat especially after Quidditch tryouts. So, why? Why did she just walk away?

“I knew I could find you here.”

(Y/N) turned around, quickly taking hold of her holly wand and raising it towards the tower’s entrance. The thundering in her chest calming, her breathing going back to its normal pace when she realised it wasn’t Sirius Black, the murderer that had escaped Azkaban and was said to have roamed through the castle. 

“What are you doing here, Oliver?”, she addressed him once the moonlight illuminated his tall figure.

“I wanted to apologise,” the boy admitted, his voice faltered just like his approach, as if he was trying to make peace with a beast; as if he was telling a snake that his feet would not come close to its head, “for what I said earlier. It wasn’t fair because I know how you…”

“How I what? How I tend to react when I’m angry?,” (Y/N) interrupted, the hand holding her wand still facing Oliver, “don’t try to act like you know me.”

“But I used to,” he murmured.

Neither of them said anything, both of their minds desperately trying to find the right words, one to plead for forgiveness once again and the other to accept it if the plea ever escaped his mouth.

The distant sound of creatures soaring through the night sky and the flip of their wings was all they heard for minutes, minutes that had felt like hours; she would dare to say days if the sky wasn’t still dark, filled with bright stars circling a full moon. 

“Why don’t we get to know each other all over again? We can start over, please.”

There it was.

And then it came.

“That’s such a great idea, Oliver!,” (Y/N) answered with a big smile on her face, the quick change of demeanour unsettling Oliver. They hadn’t talked in years but he was still amazed at how much he remembered of her, and how this didn’t mean any good. “We can get to know each other like all those years ago and then, you can abandon me like all those years ago”. The grin on her lips transforming into a scowl right after she pronounced the last part of her sentence.

“Why are you even here, Wood? You felt guilty and now you’re trying to make it go away? Or is it charity?,” the Slytherin kept ranting,” or better yet, someone challenged you to do this? I’m putting all my money on the Weasley Twins. 

“N-No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Oliver explained while moving his hands and walking the final steps leading him to (Y/N),“ I just- I never- I, I never wanted this, I never expected it but everyone was talking about you and-and they were saying horrible things and…”

“And you believed them,” (Y/N) stated, turning around to stop facing him and his hurt expression,” I don’t blame you for doing it. It’s quite funny if you think about it.”

“What’s quite funny?,” his gaze still on her when he asked.

“Most of the things you and the rest of the school heard were invented by me, so people would just stop bothering me,” she pretended to confess only to the stars, for if she didn’t, she would never admit it to him,” you can say I planned my entire doom. And it’s quite funny because, in the end, you still believed me.”

“You could have told me, (Y/N). Why didn’t you?”

“You believed the rumours, I’m sure not the craziest ones though, but that tells me that you thought I was capable of actually doing all the terrible things I said about myself.”

“I’m sorry, I am, (Y/N), truly.”

“Sorry doesn’t mend it,” she murmured, now forcing herself to look him in the eyes and act as if the pain never happened; as if she hadn’t missed his company and his random, permanently out of place Quidditch facts.

“I know, but it’s everything I have right now and I hope you can forgive me one day.”

“I have already forgiven you, Oliver, but I was too proud to reach you.”

“Typical you, (Y/N). I should have expected it.”

A small smile formed in her lips and for a moment she forgot their broken friendship, the reputation that had become her shadow and the future awaiting after Hogwarts. It was only them, (Y/N) and Oliver, with the moon glowing down on their faces and the feeling of being eleven year olds settling over their minds.

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