#me?? posting two works within a week??? unheard of

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader

Chapter Five

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

Warnings: violence against reader, gore, blood, injuries, bones being put back in place.

18+ only

Thanks for the love and messages on chapter four! If you want to see chapter six, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

As you slept, Coriolanus studied you.

Tucking a stray curl underneath the silk on your hair, he studied your face.  The stressed expression you had concerned him, he fought the urge to smooth the knitted space between your brows.

He could do this every night.

Courtships were quick affairs in The Capitol, arranged and wed within weeks, hours even, depending on the wealth of each party and what could be gained.

A wealthy orphan such as yourself worked in Coryo’s favor, no parents to impress, no dowries, just you and your ability to control a room.

Coriolanus had plans for Panem and he needed someone at his side who could stand with him, without fear.

President Ravinstill represented the victory of war, old and bloated, a reminder of the dark days.

You would be the face of his Panem, bright and beautiful.

Yes, you would do just fine.

The smell of smoke interrupted Coryo’s study and he untangled himself from you to go to the window, throwing open the curtains.

 The sun had yet to come up but a fire in a visible quarter of The Capitol raged, illuminating the sky and from the Plinth’s window he could see multiple hovercrafts carrying water to douse the flames.

    “Coryo?”

You stood next to him, watching the fiery scene and he took your hand in his, rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

A knock on the door brought you both from the window and you opened it to see Mrs. Plinth, a worried expression on her face.

   “There’s been a bombing, it’s all over the news. Peacekeepers want everyone in their own homes within the hour. I’ll get you some food to take home, dears.” She said kindly.

Too quickly you were standing outside, Coryo’s suit jacket draped around your shoulders, waiting for your car.

       “ I was going to ask you to lunch with Tigris and Grandma’am but I think we’ll have to reschedule.” Coryo said.

     “You’ll just have to make it up to me, Coriolanus Snow. If waltzing and a bombing are typical society affairs, I’m eager to see what happens the next time we’re together.”

With a kiss upon your hand, Coriolanus helped you into the car, noticing it was driven by a peacekeeper.

Peacekeepers weren’t usually drivers.

  “Excuse me, if I’m going to meet Dr. Gaul, I’d like to change first.” You said, wanting very much to get out of a dress you’d been in for far too long but the peacekeeper kept driving right past your residence.

   “Where are we going?” You asked but as usual, you were ignored and the car continued past The Corso,eventually coming to a stop outside a familiar looking building.

Even in the dark, you knew where you were and a fear you hadn’t had in years greeted you like an old friend.

The Arena.

A peacekeeper opened the door and three more took hold of you, yanking you of the car. Your claims that you could walk just fine went unheard as they dragged you with purpose into the massive yet crumbling amphitheater.

Nothing could quite prepare you for the scope of it, having only seen it back home on a  tv that turned off and on during the games if you didn’t kick it three times. You couldn’t remember the last time it was used but there you were, taking in the sights while they shoved you through the turnstile.

  “Enjoy the show!” A broken down robotic voice said.

    “My little thief, right on time! Don’t you look pretty?” Dr. Gaul said, pointing to a spot for the peacekeepers to throw you down.

    “What is this, why am I here?” You asked, standing to your feet, looking around at the empty structure.

    “As you well aware, there was an attack on The Capitol this morning, a poorly constructed bomb killed two Capitol citizens. Imagine my surprise when we caught the animal behind this, I found out he’s from your district!”

    “Dr. Gaul, I’m not behind this, you have my parents, I’m already risking everything-

    “Oh no young lady, we know you weren’t behind this, we just need you to clean up a mess for the glory of Panem.”

A familiar voice and the sound of marching feet echoed throughout the arena and out of the shadows strolled President Ravinstill and his guards.

Of course, they would be working together.

  “I believe you’ve already met President Ravinstill so no need for introductions. Gentlemen, if you please!” Dr. Gaul called out and from another corner came muffled screaming.

Two peacekeepers dragged a badly beaten man in front of you, one eye swollen shut, the other widening in recognition.

District 6 was big, but you knew him,  he worked on delivery trains.

 You used to see his children chase after the hefty freighter, waving to him on his route.

  “If you’d be so kind, dear girl.” President Ravinstill said, placing a handgun into your shaking hand.

No, please, no.

   “I don’t want to do this, I don’t need to do this, you have guns, you do it.” You stuttered.

  “Just pretend he’s a morphling, that worked the last time, didn’t it?” Dr. Gaul asked. President Ravinstill walked up behind you and wrenched your hands into position, the gun on the man’s forehead but you dropped the gun, a missed shot ringing in the air.

  “I have a better idea. Let him up, gentlemen.”  Dr. Gaul said and clapped her hands. 

   “Enjoy the show!”

Peacekeepers filed into the arena, blocking off the exits and breaks in the concrete where the floor and tunnels caved in, forming a circle around the perimeter.

A peacekeeper unlocked the cuffed man and heaved him to his feet in front of Dr. Gaul who pointed a gloved hand in your direction.

 “You see her? We’ll pin all of your mess on her and you’ll get to see your family again.  All you have to do is kill her and everything is forgiven. ” Dr. Gaul whispered into his ear. 

Surely he couldn’t actually believe that?

 He took a step in Gaul’s direction and for a moment you believed the rebel in him saw through the lies and he’d take out Dr. Gaul and President together.

Was this the moment a rebellion was born?

But then you saw it, a shine in his uninjured eye, that told you this was just a man who wanted to go home.

    “Young lady, I suggest you run.” President Ravinstill instructed.

If he couldn’t catch, he couldn’t kill you.

So you ran.

Shoes off, you ran with him on your heels, climbing up a piece of debris towards what was left of the stands, dress and skin ripping as you climbed this way and that, trying to tire him out.  He stumbled but kept up the pace and you brought your bleeding hands to a corner to get further up but a warning shot made you freeze, unable to climb any higher.

That split second of indecision worked in his favor and the man grabbed your still tender ankle and brought you back down to the same level as him.

His hands were around your throat, slamming you back on the concrete before you had a chance to get back up, kicking wildly and scratching deep into his arms, the world around you starting to blur.

You weren’t a fighter, that morphling was drugged out of his mind, you couldn’t steal your way out of this.

Would they let your parents go now?

What would they tell Coriolanus?

What was the point of any of this?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a broken arrow, probably left over from the games, and as he pressed harder, anguish grunting escaping his bloody mouth, you let yourself go limp beneath him.

He would go no further.

The moment he loosened his grip ever so slightly in victory, you drove your thumb through his bad eye and as he tried everything, slammed you into everything but you wouldn’t let go until the last minute, letting him shove you into a pile of rocks, something in your shoulder popped, causing you to scream.

When he came at you one last time, you drove that arrow into his throat, watching him sink to the ground, jerking and gasping until President Ravinstill took a gun from a peacekeeper, aimed it at the man from District 6, the husband and father, one shot to make him lie still.

It wasn’t fair.

    “Well done little thief, you would have made a fantastic tribute! Allow me.” Dr. Gaul gave no warning before she popped your shoulder back into place.

     “It’s quite remarkable, all that Capitol finery, and you still reverted back to your most natural form.” President Ravinstill marveled, looking your bloody and bruised body up and down.

You were going to be sick.

   “Do you see why I chose you now? You will do anything to survive, the ugly brutal things Capitol citizens don’t like to think about except on that very special time every year, and that’s what Panem needs alongside Coriolanus. Beauty is one thing, but brutality is what keeps the mice at bay.” Dr. Gaul said and clapped her hands once more, the peacekeepers moved from the exit.

    “Go to him, little thief. Go to him and remember the only standing between becoming Mrs. Snow or ending up like your district friend here is your cooperation.” Gaul said and without another word you turned and stumbled out of the arena.

   “See you Monday, young lady!” President Ravinstill called out.

You wandered through the streets of the Capitol for hours till you found yourself in front of Coryo’s apartment and more or less crawled up the stairs.

Before you could lift your hand to knock, the door flew open and Coriolanus enveloped you in his arms, your unrehearsed sobs stifled into his chest.

“Who did this to you?” He asked voice colder than you've ever experienced, touching you all over, cataloging each and every bruise and blood stain.  At the noise, Tigris peeked her head out of her room only to come racing out fully when she saw you.

As you collapsed into their embrace, you had one thought in your head.

Dr. Gaul and President Ravinstill were very much like mice.

To get rid of mice, you would need a snake.

That’s Chapter 5! As usual if you’d like to see Chapter 6, please comment or reblog! Thank you for reading :)

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #Coriolanus snow x black!reader #coriolanus snow x you

[talesofsonicasura]

Persona 5: Phantom Cat

An idea that plagued me ever since I saw Poppy Playtime Chapter 3 and been playing Persona 5 Royal. Joker but he's a Bigger Bodies CatNap. Things are gonna go insane and have a new flavor of dark.

For those who want to learn more about Poppy Playtime before delving in, this post has all the current info links.

Ren Amamiya was an orphan raised in the Playcare orphanage at Playtime Co. A secondary candidate for the Catnap Bigger Bodies experiments if one were to be found too unstable to use(looks at Ch3 CatNap). It's clear from the various VHS tapes which can be found throughout the chapter that there are some workers who been aware about the horrors done in Playtime Co.

People who absolutely hated it or disagree with such inhumane idealism. One particular scientist decides to do something unheard of: allow a child experiment to escape. Ren being the chosen person as they had grown close to him but were unable to adopt him in time before experimentation. The transformation for the boy gone faulty which led to a more unorthodox method of conversion.

Ren was made into a small Catnap who will overtime grow into a Bigger Bodies version. The perfect size for the scientist to sneak him out in a duffle bag and vanish after work was done for today. A simple swap with a normal Catnap toy.

No one knew they were in the process of moving to Japan nor the truth until it was too late. An experiment has gotten out into the real world. The scientist alongside the recently converted Ren were unaware about the growth process and thought he been made into a normal toy.

A mistake that became noticed when Ren had double in size within a span of two weeks. Despite this new problem, the scientist did his best to raise the boy. Unlike the other CatNap, Ren is completely different from the Smiling Critters as a whole.

His face isn't a stuck in a perpetual grin and he can make various facial expressions like his cartoon counterpart. Ren is around 12 years old when he fully grew into his staggering 23 ft tall Bigger Body. Long lanky body that is more lean has an almost humanlike upper torso. Well if they got extra long limbs.

The youth can easily pretend to be a toy as he's well fed and the healthy weight hides his bone structure. (CH3 CatNap was starved.) Ren can compress his body to 11 ft at minimum for the moment. He needs to train in order to shrink to the size of a plush, even more to reach rat size(thank Shido's Palace.)

(Comparison Bigger Bodies Catnap and the small toy alongside the cartoon art)

Ren doesn't produce Red Smoke but instead normal choloform. This is because he would be upgraded once reaching full size back at Playcare under The Doctor's orders. A safe measure to not deal with two rogue Red Smoke spraying CatNaps.

He didn't have a voice box added as the employees involved in this experiment rather leave him mute. Ren does get one from his rescuer which sounds like his own voice but can be adjusted to fit his age. Despite being a Bigger Body the youth lives a very happy life.

A few weeks after Ren's thirteenth birthday is when tragedy struck. The boy lost his parent from the result of a drunk driver(Shido.) Ren is forced to pack up all his prizes possessions and leave knowing their family home would soon be foreclosed.

He moves into Yogen-jaya as the place was the closest, most rural but most importantly least populated area. Ren survived by eating whatever food people threw out and stealing from homes if desperate. On one fateful day, he breaks into Sojiro's place where meets Futaba.

She was obviously frightened by the 11 ft (compressed) monstrous cat in her house. Until Futaba notices that the strange creature acted more like a hungry skittish feline from the almost empty messy fridge. It was in that moment Futaba would do something insane. She let Ren stay with her.

Using her hacking skills, the youth stole money from people's bank accounts/cards and ordered Ren food to pick up in secluded spots throughout the neighborhood. The duo's bond becoming that of siblings over time. Although it didn't take long for Sojiro to bump into Ren.

He was super concerned and frightened to see the giant feline in his home even when Futaba jump into his defense. It took awhile before Sojiro trusted Ren as he let the Bigger Body stay due to the sibling bond with his adopted daughter. The two were obviously disgusted at Playtime Co once they heard about the boy's backstory.

For those wondering, this entire thing did change events in the Persona 5 main story. The first being the Phantom Thieves line up. Makoto takes Ren's position as she was taken into Kamoshida's Palace alongside Ryuji in his place. He becomes leader much later.

Next is the Palace lineup. There are no time limits for the first two(no expulsion threat nor Medjed threat. Makoto kept Ryuji from losing his cool for the former.) Futaba's Palace takes the second slot instead of Madarame. The reason being her mental attacks have gotten so worse that Ren sought the Phantom Thieves' help upon finding the Phansite. Futaba was rightfully upset upon finding out but she understood her big brother's worry.

A few depictions of Ren can be found inside her Egyptian Themed Palace, each showing him as a guardian deity. Even Shadow Futaba carries a little charm that looks like him. Ren also awakens Arseńe in this very Palace. His Phantom Thief outfit remains the same but can stretch or shrink to fit his body no matter the size change. Same goes for his weapons, the knife becoming a broadsword when large and the handgun into a grenade launcher.

The current Phantom Thieves absolutely freaked out when they first met Ren. For the beginning, he gave them the request and the keywords to reach her Palace. However Ren wasn't aware that a new obstacle had manifested due to his powerful bond with Futaba.

A stone Sphinx at the halfway point who will only let them through if they present the 'The Pharaoh's True Guardian'. The group believe they needed a plush which is sorta correct. I thought it be funny yet perfect symbolism to make Ren a key companion for Futaba's Palace. Now onto the Joker changes.

Ren is still a Wildcard but he has no access to his original Velvet Room. Keyword being 'original' for he'll gain usage to a completely different one. This one being managed by Margaret who been concerned about the strange behavior of Igor and Lavenza's absence.

Ren's appearance in the Velvet Room is his canon iteration. Although this room takes the appearance of a fun house with him wearing a Catnap hooded costume. Every mechanic in the Velvet Room revolves around carnival rides or game booths.

Fusion are the tea cup rides while Fusion Alarm shifts into Bumper Cars. Itemization is a the Disappearing Crate magic trick. Strengthening results in the Hall of Mirrors. Training being various games from tossing to dunk tanks.

I will be going over the Confidants, Thieves' Den and the other Persona 5 games in a different post as this is getting pretty long. That's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you later.

#sonicasura #tales of sonicasura #persona series #persona 5 #persona 5 series #persona 5 royal #persona 5 tactica #persona 5 scramble #ren amamiya #persona joker #persona 5 joker #p5 joker #futaba sakura #persona 5 futaba #p5 #p5r #p5s #p5t #poppy playtime #catnap #poppy playtime chapter 3 #smiling critters #poppy playtime catnap #persona 5 phantom cat #persona au

[pumpkinspice-prouvaire]

hello! if you are still doing the ao3 asks (and no worries if not!) how about 10, 11, and 30? also just wanted to say i've loved the fics you've put out this year! :)

I am still doing the ao3 asks I am simply so slow and eepy lmfao but thank you so much, I'm glad you've enjoyed them and I feel the same about yours, here's to another year of fic writing hehe

10. What work was the quickest to write? Bad Idea, Right? I heard that Olivia Rodrigo song and got inspired, and managed to write and post the fic within two days. That is literally unheard of for me on a normal day lmao

11. What work took you the longest to write? Well, I've been working on Let's Fall in Love (for the Week) since. Uh. August 2022. WHOOPS. Not long to go on it though!!!

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? Honestly, just how much I've been able to write and post! Being honest, this has been been a difficult year mental health/stress/busy-ness wise, so I guess I used writing as escapism and it was something that brought me joy even when I wasn't feeling my best. I hope I can post just as much in 2024 ^^

#answered #ao3 wrapped #YAY I FINISHED THEM

[outofangband]

Hadorian World Building Part One

Hadorian here refers not just to the family and extended family of Hador but the people of Marach and those that followed him, creating a distinct culture and identity 

World Building Masterlist

This is largely focused on Dor-Lómin pre Nírnaeth. As always please feel free to ask more, I love world building like this

Please feel free to ask more!! General posts are hard because I didn’t have specific categories to cover so feel free to send categories! You can also see my world building prompt list for inspiration I always take requests

Clothes among the Hadorians are relatively simple. Tunics and breeches are worn by men and children regardless of gender. Adult women typically wear plain dresses. Most wear working aprons as well.

Dress like robes inspired by the Noldor elves are occasionally worn for ceremonial occasions, typically court ones like the formal vows of a wedding or a memorial ceremony rather than festive ones.

These robes are Cotton or occasionally traded silk and have far more elaborate embroidery than most Hadorian clothing. Flax is also used

Eagle feathers, marsh marigold, yellow iris, reeds, the distinctive roofs of many houses, and shields with the Hadorian Emblem are among a variety of designs featured on clothing

On that note most houses are wood and stone. Flint and materials from iron ore are rare but not unheard of especially in roofing and foundations. Most houses have a cellar separate from the main building.

There are five communal wells within the main area of Dor-lómin and a number of smaller private ones.

Sheep are kept for wool which is a primary source of clothing materials however there are some fiber crops such as flax and nettle. Trade with other regions during more prosperous times allowed for esparto like plants to be used in production of fabric too.

Dyes for coloring clothing, wax and other materials are collected from flowers and certain berries.

It’s mentioned that Húrin’s family and presumably other Hadorians keep cows. I headcanon that these are primarily used for dairy.  (I won’t get too into this part of the text itself here but some people who DM me probably know my preoccupation with this)

The cows are typically kept in semi communal pastures with care and maintenance covered by one or two members of each household who keeps their cows there, switching every week

There are small vegetable gardens though a lot of food is gotten from foraging/gathering seeds, nuts, mushrooms, berries and more, and hunting as well, sometimes deer but usually birds and rabbits.

Please feel free to request Dor-lómin as a topic for my garden posts :)

I headcanon there is a tradition of beekeeping for both honey and wax though animal fat is also used for the latter. Like clothing, the wax is dyed with plant materials.

Pottery is also a common practical craft with clay being both collected and traded for. Containers used for storing food and water safely are usually clay. Most clay is collected from the riverbanks in the mountains. 

Paints are made from both plant and mineral pigments. Cloth and clay are used for canvases.

Metal working is rare though highly valued.  There are a few who have learned the trade, mostly originally from the Noldor and then passed down Post Nirnaeth this became even less utilized

Dor-lómin has one steel bloomery, one armory and two small smithies, one of which is shared with the elves who originally built it.

Most writing is done with quills made from duck and goose feathers 🪶. Quills made with metal are rare and valued

Dor-lómin is under the rule of the House of Hador (at least until the Nirnaeth) and so a lot of the traditions are from the Hadorians and many were influenced by the House of Fingolfin. However Húrin's mother, Hareth, was of the House of Haleth and of course after Dagor Bragollach, Morwen and other refugees from the House of Bëor also arrived so traditions fuse and combine and more are brought in

The Hadorians are horsemen and there are two large celebrations, one in Spring and one in Autumn, that center around the two main routes horses are taken on for better grazing. There is feasting and dance and competition like races and scavenger hunts or obstacle courses done both on foot or on horseback

I talked about the summer festival here!

Jumping competitions with points based on speed, agility and communication with the horse! Obstacle courses and jumping games are common at Hadorian festivals but are essential to the summer and autumn harvest ones. The spring festival has a more elegant competition involving a complex but low to the ground course and almost dressage like movements. There is the largest horse race in late autumn.

I headcanon that there are areas over the creek with rope swings made from various braided materials. I mentioned in the climate post but while the summers aren’t scorching hot, they do get very humid and playing in the water is a welcome relief from the heat.

The Hadorians have both nomadic and non nomadic sections. The nomadic ones travel with large portions of their horses through two different grazing routes. Many families will have one or two members travel with their horses while the rest stay home and then switch after several months. The first longer journey taken with the horses is an important part of coming of age for both boys and girls

The Hadorians often utilize birds to deliver messages, both a species like a passenger pigeon and hunting birds. Methods of training these birds are not very well developed (simply because it’s a practice that takes more time than most Hadorians have even been settled in Hithlum) and most effective messengers are gifts from elven allies though often raised from hatching by their companions. 

Clothing can rarely be hung to dry outside given the frequent humidity in warmer months and snowfall and winds in the winter. It is not uncommon for families who live in close proximity to share makeshift shelters where a line for clothes is hung. 

Please feel free to ask more!! General posts are hard because I didn’t have specific categories to cover so feel free to send categories!

#the silmarillion #the children of húrin #dor-lómin #Hithlum #Beleriand #musing and meta

[plantrelated]

Watch out for an illustration/design scam on Indeed

TL;DR if you don't have time/don't want to read the whole thing: If you apply to a job on Indeed and they're asking you to do an illustration job worth $6800 for a "Pandemic: Precaution and Prevention" class: refuse the job.

I wouldn’t normally make a post like this, but I just had the weirdest 2 weeks. I applied to, what seemed to be, a pretty standard designer/illustrator job (I won't mention the name of the company it was posted under since it's a legitimate company that had no idea their name was being used.) A lot of very similar beats as most other art/design/illustration jobs on pretty much every job site out there. I applied, didn’t think much of it, had surgery a few days later, and woke up after sleeping off anesthesia to a text from a supposed representative of the company. We got in touch via email and this was the rundown I was given:

He also noted in a later email that, while they would reserve the rights of use, the art could still be used in a professional portfolio, no worries--totally fine with me. For the most part, this doesn't read as anything particularly strange--in fact, it reads as pretty great. In a sea of the literal hundreds of jobs I've applied for, this is probably one of the few times I've seen a truly solid paycheck for this kind of work (lots of folks out there either don't know what kind of budget their projects actually require or there's the Ye Olde I Just Don't Want to Pay You What You're Worth.)

There's a standard back and forth, things seem okay, and the job itself seems fun. I'm always down to do some art for education and especially for pandemic stuff. He emails me this:

Up front is also cool--I've been ghosted before getting paid in the past, so a "good faith" payment is okay with me. And while it's a little unusual to get a cashier's check, I understand that they're often used when larger funds are involved. Rarer now, with online payments being so common, but not wildly unheard of. Tbh I'm getting kind of excited by this point. I'm thinking this is my first "big job." This is money I could really use right now. And this is probably something they were betting on: there are a lot of desperate artists looking for a paycheck and this one is an amazing one. Especially considering how hard it is to find art jobs, in general, but also to find ones that pay you what you and the job are worth. Then, about a week into pretty consistent correspondence, I get this:

By this point, I've only had the official green light to start working for about 2/3 days. Barely any time to do anything, really. So, obviously, he hasn't seen anything yet. Even if he had looked at my portfolio and liked what he saw enough to trust whatever I came up with, I just found it odd that he was so willing to immediately hire me on for "phase two" (which I also wasn't aware was even a potential factor in the job.) And to also double the payment--even if it was an accurate calculation for the workload added--without having any idea of what you're getting felt weird to me. But I really, really wanted it to be legit. Thankfully, by this point my sister had made me aware of some similar scams going around on Indeed, so I started looking a little deeper into this. Eventually, unable to find much, I went directly to the site of the original company and contacted the owner. I gave him the rundown of the job and the name of who I was in contact with (Clayton West.) Within an hour, I got a reply back that said his business hadn't posted any sort of job and that he would be contacting the authorities. I emailed Clayton to let him know that I was severing ties, authorities had been contacted, and that I was going to shred the check. Unsurprisingly--despite his faithful correspondence up to now--I never got a reply. About a day or two later, I got the check in the mail and found it had been written for $13,600. And note: the check had been sent to me before I had even known there was a "phase two." Into the shredder it went and I thought that was it. Then today, less than a week later after this whole thing dissolved, I applied to another job on Indeed. A different type of business (a school, which is also a real and legitimate place), different info, different application parameters; different country, actually. Within 45 minutes of applying, I got a text from someone claiming to be a rep from the school (Anthony Toochio) saying they were hiring for an illustration job that was worth $6800. Immediately, I thought that was a weird coincidence. Surely, I was just burned and overthinking, right? I look up the school, confirm it's legitimate (no one named Anthony on their staff, I saw), and eventually decide to check the link. Guess what I see? Guess. Yup:

And the header, as mentioned in the doc, is one of the exact examples I was sent by Clayton in an early email. They post the jobs under the guise of being legitimate businesses and institutions (specifically small and/or relatively unknown ones, as far as I can tell) and it's not limited to a singular country or one type of industry, either. The first job listing was posing as a sign shop in North Carolina, USA, and the second was as a secondary school in the Southwark district of London, England. I'm sure there are more. So, all that to say to be careful when you're applying to jobs, as a general rule, but if anyone contacts you with this specific job: cut off all contact before you get your hopes up, time wasted, and involved in a scam of some kind. I have no idea what they hope to gain, and I'm so glad I didn't have a chance to find out. So, just be wary out there. As a freelancer without a company to back you, you've got to be super protective of yourself. I'm definitely learning that, myself, right now. Additionally, here's an article from the The Graphic Artist Guild about other sorts of scams out there, just so you can be aware.

Be safe!

#artists beware #art scam #scam alert #indeed #indeed scam #indeed job board

[heartofspells]

Hello 🥰 please.can I know more about 'These Hands that Bind'?

🧡

You absolutely can! Thank you for sending this.

These Hands that Bind is actually already posted, the first two chapters, at least. The third is coming, but slowly. But it's essentially just a way to explore Sirius and all his little quirks through Remus' watchful eyes.

They meet at a club, have their fun, but Sirius, being himself, sinks his nails in and refuses to let go. Remus is a bit more stubborn. It's filled with music, talks of careers (Sirius is a music producer, while Remus is a struggling writer), nosy friends, sweet moments, me trying to be poetic and greatly failing, and Sirius just trying to work his charms however he can to make Remus see that maybe this isn't so bad, using the excuse of casualness to do so. (and Sirius sings; that's a personal headcanon i have broken spectacularly for this thing)

And I've got a snippet from chapter three for anyone who's interested!

Sleeping with Sirius Black on a semi-regular basis isn't at all what Remus had initially expected. For instance, it isn't even semi-regular. It becomes regular incredibly quickly. Remus tries to enforce a measure of distance there almost immediately, attempting to limit their exposure to one another to no more than a couple times a week, but that doesn't work. As soon as his phone dings with a one worded message, or worse, sometimes only a smirking yellow face, or Remus finds his mind drifting a little too far away, Sirius is typically there with him within an hour, one of them against the wall or pressed into a mattress or both sprawled over the floor.

Sirius is like a siren in the middle of an expansive sea of rolling waves, calling to Remus until he treads the water, navigates its dangers, finds him, finally, and lets Sirius takes him, pull him under the surface and never release. All it takes is the thought of dancing grey eyes, the image of upturned lips, the remembrance of a cockily arched eyebrow, and Remus is gone, lost to it all, encasing himself in arms and a body he'd once thought he could banish away so easily. He feels foolish now.

Sirius plays out some sort of unheard, unnamed tune on Remus' skin with long, slender fingers whenever they're together. The heat of them blazes and scorches, leaving him ravaged, bared, exposed, a nerve shown the light of day and twinging with it, vibrating almost painfully when there isn't skin on skin or just the simplicity of grey eyes watching him with every move he makes.

Borderline public shags become a more frequent thing. Whereas Remus had previously limited these to desperate one offs in club lavs or the occasional backrooms of seedier pubs, with Sirius, everywhere suddenly seems like a possibility, presenting almost like a challenge to the dark headed man, the wickedness around his eyes and mouth clear.

Sirius has no filter, or so Remus is learning, not on his mouth or any other areas of himself. He also has little to no regard for customary rules of polite society, going so far as to tug Remus over his lap one night in an abandoned train car of the tube and all but full-out take him right there, hands groping freely before pulling Remus off with practiced ease, his own hips grinding up, erection straining against trouser fabric and Remus' arse. He'd left Remus gasping for breath and his own shirt obviously stained, but Sirius hadn't seemed to care, only smirking up at Remus as he'd gently tucked him away from sight again.

Remus, to put it simply, is a wreck of himself. His entire world seems to have shifted on its axis, winter turning suddenly to glowing, too bright summer days, sometimes subtly shifting into the embracing arms of a crisp and welcoming autumn. Where his time had once been his own, a little lonely, a bit grey and drab, now he finds it filled with the presence of a larger-than-life figure who's all wild hand gestures, chaos of the best sort, cigarettes hanging from stretching lips or beautiful fingers, and a grey that's dazzling and more breathtaking than Remus cares to admit.

#these hands that bind #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #sirius/remus #wip tagging game #wip ask #snippet #ask #answer #my writing #holli writes

[shattersstar]

here r my jason headcanons abt his scars and general feelings about his appearance + how the reader deals with it

disclaimer: wrote these in my notes within half and hour and i’m tipsy but i hope u enjoy these thots

jason wasn’t overly aware of his appearance growing up, until he moved in with bruce. he was aware he was a bit rough around the edges, growing up as he did was direct influence of that, but it wasnt until he had to interact with high society he was made aware of how looks mattered. he didn’t get the same treatment as dick, maybe the novelty of bruce’s wards had worn off come the second robin, or maybe they all recognized a poorness in him that left his toothy grin a little smaller. he tried not to care but those things bite at the back of your mind and leave residual scars to trace in years to come.

and years later, he had come to hate his body. it was something mangled, mashed and stitched back together, barely holding itself together in the first few years after the pit. his autopsy scars stayed too, every injury from being robin, from his life on the streets healed into a nothing but those fucking scars stayed. they were a harsh reminder of how his life panned out and would follow him around till he died—again.

the distaste from the socialites he had nearly forgotten about seemed to burn through his veins each time he passed a mirror. as he grew and accumulated more wounds, ones that healed and others that didn’t, the more he stopped looking at himself. he wanted to feel the vanity others had thrusted upon him, wanted to relish in the sly glances he got as he aged into his (forever handsome) features, but all he felt was lies. They wouldn’t be as bold with their eyes if they knew about him, about what hid under the layers of clothes, what phantoms hung on his shoulders and the blood he washed away, that never truly left. He couldn’t find a rugged appreciation in the crooked bend of his nose of the scar that clung to his cheekbone, another slicing through his left brow bone.

he felt like he had grown into what he was always seen as, some rough kid from the streets of gotham. he didn’t hate looking mean, it had its advantages. he liked the surprised reactions he got from his apartment neighbours who assumed he was just some criminal kid trying to make his stake in the crime ridden city. but then he’d help them carry groceries, let them drop off their pets at his place when they went out of town for the weekend, helped esl kids with english homework when he had free time. part of him wished he didnt have to win over people to get him to accept and trust him but he understood nonetheless

that was until you showed up. you moved in across the hall and asked him the day you met to help you move the couch the movers put in the wrong spot. “if you’re busy its all good.” you added at the end with a shrug, likely due to his own stunned silence at your request. he agreed, pulling his key from the lock and spent the evening setting up your living room. you paid him in a beer your friend had given as a house warming gift and asked him about the floor. you were a bit nosy, a little gossipy but something about it felt sincere. just a genuine curiosity about the inner workings of the place he called home. actually—everything about you just felt sincere.

you were kind to him, treated him like a neighbour and not a cautionary tale and jesus that scared the shit outta him. you popped up in his life a few times after your first meeting, inviting him over when you made way too much food or asking him for a good grocery store nearby. it wasn’t until you knocked on his door, asking if he wanted to hang out—no conditions, no help or anything needed. “do you like movies?” you asked, swaying on the balls of your feet as jason stood in his doorway, it barely cracked open out of habit.

“as long as its not based on a book.” he replied, ignoring how dry his throat was.

“you’re a ‘book is better then an adaptation’ kinda guy huh?”

“because its true.”

“unless the book already sucks.” that made him chuckle.

“but yeah i like movies.”

“cool the things is—“

“u dont have a tv.”

“exactly, we can squish onto my bed or watch it at your place if you’re cool with that. can’t lie i am curious to see how you live.” you admitted, jokingly pushing yourself onto your tippy toes and pretending to peer over his shoulder.

“my place then.”

“tomorrow night?”

“tomorrow.”

it quickly became a weekly tradition, you’d bring popcorn and something you stressed baked and alternate between picking films. most were spent in his living room, but after a while you managed to get him back into your place. you did exactly what you said and squished into your bed, laptop balancing on your lap desk. jason was in his usual long sleeve and sweats. you were in a tshirt and pj shorts. it was summer and he knew you were going to ask. “you wanna go back to your place in change? its kinda warm and as much as i like you, i dunno how i’d feel about you overheating on me.”

despite your attempt at humor he muttered a quick, “i’m fine.”

you shrugged it off and jason should’ve known better. should’ve known you weren’t going to drop it, that wasnt how you worked. you were nosy and talkative and curious and pushy and caring and you hated the idea of a wall between you two. so when you slipped into his lap one day, some early 2000s romcom droning on behind you, he knew exactly what you were up too.

your knees dug into the side of his couch and your hands landed on his shoulders. “were friends right?” you asked, and something about how your nose bumped his felt anything but platonic.

“yeah.” he breathed, hyper aware of your thumb brushing against the collar of his shirt. one of his scars peaked through, and a jagged knife wound that left him half dead on a rooftop two years ago.

your thumb brushed it and his fingers clasped to your forearms in warning.

“this is why you’re always in sweaters right? what you’re trying to hide.” your eyes were fixed on it, still rubbing small circles against the skin around it. he didn’t say anything, you had were more observant than he gave you credit. “friends dont keep secrets jay.” you all but pouted at him, forehead resting against his.

“they’re...bad.” was all he could stress, eyes downcast to where your thighs met his.

“they’re apart of you which means they cant be bad. not to me.”

and it was like the hesitation in which people would approach him, the disgusted whispers about the newest wayne ward, the eyes that were fearful to meet his all vanished. all the left over pain and hate for his tired and broken body was put somewhere he couldnt reach even if just for this moment.

he still had a hard time looking in the mirror, wished his battered knuckles didn’t stand out so much when your fingers locked with his, wanted to kiss you without feeling the small scar from his  near constantly split lip, wanted to be able to wear the more revealing clothes you thought he’d look good in, and more. there were still things to want and wish and hate and push away. but there was also your voice now living in his mind whispering the words he hadn’t known he needed to hear since he was a kid.

#this honestly turned into a fic halfway through #but i’m still gonna call them headcanons bc y’know its messy #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #writing #me?? posting two works within a week??? unheard of #idk where this inspiration came from but i am thriving

[obviouslygenuinely]

Babygate Analysis/Conclusions: A Non-Larry Perspective

(Image Credit: Hollywood Life)

I'm prefacing this post with a few disclaimers:

After some consideration, I chose to write this without factoring in Larry whatsoever. No Larry-related points, proof, or speculation in any way. This is solely analyzing babygate from an unbiased perspective. 

I don't claim to know the entire truth. It is impossible for any of us to know.  What I conclude is based on direct evidence, circumstantial evidence, research, and analysis.

I am willing to discuss opposing views. I’m happy to talk about the topic in a civil, kind, and mature matter. I will dismiss any discourse that is aggressive, immature, and so on.

I did not include every single opinion/conclusion/piece of evidence I found. I condensed my thoughts as much as possible (and this is still a novel-length post). There are so many more points I can think of. However, babygate masterposts cover all of that; I’ll link to some of those at the end.

The conclusion points aren't in a very specific order. I aimed to list related points one after another. Aside from that, it's not in order of "hardest to weakest" evidence.

Please read “Author’s Notes” for additional clarity/input. They interject thoughts/etc. that I feel are necessary to include. 

Lastly, I included links to every source I cited in this post. However, I did not tag the Tumblr users. I’m not sure if they are comfortable with having Babygate questions/comments directed to their blogs. If you are a linked source and want to be tagged, please let me know! 

My Initial Reaction To Babygate

In February of 2020, I received several messages on LateToLarry requesting that I analyze something called “babygate”. I had no idea what babygate meant at the time. 

I learned what it meant, and prior to any research I felt the theory was so absurd. I also felt uncomfortable analyzing it because I believed I’d feel bias as a single mom. The idea of discussing a random child in depth initially bothered me, too. I declined to analyze it last year.

However, I did a LOT of research over time. My opinion has changed significantly. Below, I’ve shared my main conclusions and analysis about babygate. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy my post! 

1. No Paternity Test Was Performed Prior To The Pregnancy Announcement

Louis was/is a prominent celebrity and has a current net worth of $70 million. From legal, financial, and practical standpoints, it makes no sense for him to choose not to get a test. 

It’s unheard of in Hollywood and the entertainment industry. Any sensible team -lawyers, PR reps, managers, advisors, etc. - would not just go along with it. They are employed to protect his career and image. 

The Opposing Views

A. “Briana/Louis didn’t want to risk miscarriage with prenatal testing.”

Non-invasive testing is completely safe for fetuses and pregnant women, so there’s no medical reason for the lack of testing.

B. “Louis chose not to get the test done because he wanted to be a father and was invested in the pregnancy/parenting.”

Time has shown that this is not true. Louis does not have custody; there was a brief custody case in 2016 that led nowhere. He does not have a consistent or prominent role in the child’s life.

Conclusion

There is no logical reason for the lack of paternity testing prior to the announcement unless Louis knew he was not the father and all parties knew this to be true.

2. There Was No Confirmation Of A Paternity Test After The Birth

I’ll keep this section fairly short. A quick Google search returns dozens of conflicting reports. Many of them state that Louis demanded a paternity test shortly after birth. Other reports state that he has never pursued a paternity test. 

Here are a few examples:

“Louis Tomlinson not interested in paternity test” - Business Standard

“EXCLUSIVE: Louis Tomlinson Demanded a DNA Test “As Soon as the Baby Was Born”” - InTouch Weekly

“Louis Tomlinson: No DNA Test Needed ... Positive Freddie's His Son” -TMZ

“Louis Tomlinson & Briana Jungwirth: WhyHe Had DNA Test Done on His Newborn Son” - Hollywood Life

This Twitter thread discusses TMZ reports that - as of 2020 - no DNA test was done.

Conclusion

There is no reliable confirmation that Louis pursued a paternity test. The media cannot come to a general/factual consensus.

Again, there is no reasonable explanation for the lack of paternity testing unless Louis knows he is not the father of the child. 

3. The Conception-To-Birth Timeline Is Inconsistent/Unreliable

Pregnancy and conception as a whole can be rather confusing; timelines from conception to birth are unique to each person. Having said that, Briana’s timeline is full of glaring inconsistencies that don’t add up. 

I’ll begin with this timeline based on bulletprooflarry’s post and my own research. Dates I’ve added myself include linked sources:

May 5th, 2015 - Louis and Briana were first seen together in public.

May 6th to May 31st, 2015 - Briana and her mom followed baby-related social medial accounts.

May 12th, 2015 - Louis and Briana were pictured together in public.

July 3rd, 2015 - Louis is seen with Briana’s brother in Hollywood.

July 14th, 2015 - The first pregnancy report is published.

August 4th, 2015 - Louis confirms pregnancy on GMA.

January 21st, 2016 - The child is reportedly born.

Based on the dates above, these are the possible dates/milestones for her pregnancy:

Scenario A - If conception occurred on May 5th, Briana was 37 weeks and 2 days pregnant on January 21st, 2016. This is considered an early-term birth and about 26% of births occur at 37 weeks.

Scenario B - If conception occurred on May 12th, Briana was 36 weeks and 2 days pregnant on January 21st. This is considered a late-term or late premature birth and about 10% of births occur at 36 weeks.

These dates matter because Briana’s alleged hospital stay was not consistent with a premature or early-term birth. She was pictured in public - healthy and holding a baby carrier - within one week of giving birth. 

(Image Credit: Daily Mail)

(Image Credit: larrysbbrbb28)

If she gave birth based on the dates above, it’s extremely unlikely that she or the baby would be out in public so soon.

Below are screenshots of an additional timeline from an archived Tumblr post. It provides excellent points about more timeline inconsistencies: 

The main inconsistencies and red flags are bolded in the post. It supports the unreliable conception timeline, and it also mentions my next point - the official pregnancy announcement. 

The post above mentions that the Jungwirth family followed baby-related accounts before Briana could possibly know she was pregnant. Here’s one screenshot from skepticallarrie proving it:

I’ve also seen several posts that show inconsistencies with the size of Briana’s baby bump. Unfortunately, the most reliable post no longer exists. You can view a web archive of Briana’s pregnancy photos, but most of the image links are broke. 

The only post I have saved is a web archive of a long babygate post. The beginning of the post contains photos showing discrepancies in the size of Briana’s baby bump. 

The Opposing Views

“Pregnancy looks different on everybody, everyone recovers differently, etc.”

Yes, this is true and a valid point! As a woman who has gone through multiple pregnancies and two live births, I truly understand this argument. 

However, the sheer amount of inconsistencies are what make this a red flag. There are too many unreliable and contradicting points to brush this off. It goes beyond the point of “well, each person has a different experience”.

Conclusion

There are a few conclusions/scenarios I believe you can draw from the information above:

Briana was pregnant prior to meeting Louis.

Briana was never pregnant in the first place. 

Both are valid to consider, but I personally believe she was never pregnant. 

(Author’s note: My calculation for dates are based on the date of alleged conception. Most due date calculators, by default, use the date of a woman’s last mentrual period - LMP - to provide estimations.

I also used Date Duration Calendar for my calculations. Accessible due date calculators only allowed me to input dates from 2019/2020. Depending on the tools and dates you use, your mileage may vary.)

4. The Announcement Itself Was Highly Unusual

This point ties into the first and third points. I don’t consider it a major piece of evidence, but it’s noteworthy due to the other points. 

So, there are a few reasons why the Good Morning America announcement stands out. 

A. If Briana got pregnant on May 5th, then she was approximately 10 weeks pregnant when the first pregnancy report was published. This also means she was approximately 13 weeks pregnant at the time of the GMA announcement.

If Briana got pregnant on May 12th, she was approximately nine weeks pregnant at the time of the first report and approximately 12 weeks pregnant at the time of the GMA announcement.

B. The public announcement on Good Morning America raises a lot of questions. I’ve had multiple issues embedding the video; the bolded link takes you to the GMA announcement on YouTube. 

Anyways, these questions/thoughts - disregarding any Larry theories -  come to mind when watching the video: 

This is a segment for promoting/discussing their album/music.

The baby announcement is the sole non-album/music related topic that is mentioned during the segment.

The announcement is not organically worked into the segment as a natural talking point.

Louis’ reactions - such as bringing the microphone to his lips and not talking - is very unlike his standard interview demeanor.

The male interviewer and the band members have noticeable facial expressions and body language that suggest discomfort, stress, or awkwardness. 

A post by skepticalarrie draws similar conclusions. Her post is much more detailed than mine, and I highly recommend reading/viewing it. 

(Author’s Note: I’ve touched upon this on LateToLarry and will make a post here eventually, but body language and facial expressions are valid. They’re valid to the point that they are used in court cases.) 

Conclusion

My conclusions here are twofold. One is that: 

Announcing a pregnancy - especially a celebrity-related pregnancy - this early is extremely uncommon and unlikely.

The announcement itself seems out of place and very forced. 

This particular point, to me, is not extremely strong evidence. I still think it’s worth keeping in mind and is relevant to other points here. So, I’ve included it either way.

5. Briana Posted Stolen Pregnancy/Baby Photos On Social Media

(EDIT: I wrote this piece before the recent release of Briana’s alleged ultrasound and don’t have time to add it. It’s pretty strong proof and can easily be found in recent babygate posts.)

Babygate posts often point out that Briana and the Jungwirth family used stolen/fake pregnancy and baby photos on social media. It’s a well-known topic that’s often discussed. 

I’m condensing this section to a few examples. I encourage additional research if you’d like to see more. 

A. This Tumblr post shows stolen baby bump photos that Briana’s cousin Ashley posted on Twitter: 

B. This Tumblr post and Twitter post show a stolen baby photo that Briana posted on Instagram:

(Author’s Note: Since I was not active in the fandom at the time, I am relying on information from other blogs and social media posts. I vetted my sources pretty well, but any false information is my own mistake.)

Conclusions

The only word that sums this up is “suspicious”. Using stolen photos of a pregnant woman/baby is not necessary if you are legitimately pregnant. That’s really what it boils down to. It lends to the conclusion that Briana was never pregnant. 

6. Photos And Videos Of The Child Are Heavily Altered And Manipulated

It is indisputable that many photos and videos of the child are heavily manipulated to alter his appearance. This goes beyond filters, lighting, and angles. 

Several detailed posts show the manipulations; here are some examples:

A web archive of all Photoshop evidence from tellmethisisnotlove

An in-depth post from genuineconspiracy that includes detailed photo evidence.

A video post from freefreddiereign that shows Photoshop evidence based on photos the child. 

There is no doubt that his facial features are frequently altered. This is easy to conclude using any free software that detects Photoshop. As a photographer myself, I can easily spot the manipulations.

(Author’s Note: I know that directly discussing the child is controversial. When I first heard of babygate, my initial reaction was discomfort about analyzing a child.

I quickly learned/concluded that his family members are responsible for heavily putting him in the public eye. All content I’ve used for research is based on the family’s posts.

Still, I have personally chosen not post pictures of the child, but the links I am sharing contain photos/videos of him.

Additionally, I used FotoForensics on photos of myself prior to writing this. It was important to me to feel absolutely certain about this point. I’m fine with sharing my own FotoForensics images if anyone is curious.)

The Opposing Views

A. “Freddie looks like Louis in pictures that aren’t Photoshopped.”

Parentage cannot be based on whether or not a child looks like his mother/father. I understand the viewpoint, but it’s simply not evidence. Additionally, thinking the child looks like Louis is a matter of opinion. 

There’s also the fact that appearance means nothing overall. Science backs up this statement very well. Examples and references:

“How can children from the same parents look so different?” by HowStuffWorks

“My Baby Looks Nothing Like Me: A Genetic Explanation” by FamilyEducation

Additionally, here is a personal anecdote. I have two sons close to Freddie’s age. One of them looks exactly like his father and nothing like me. The other looks exactly like me and nothing like his father. Despite how they look, they are both of them are our biological children. 

Conclusion

There is no reasonable explanation for altering the child’s appearance - particularly to make him look more similar to Louis. 

I cannot think of a single argument as to why the Jungwirth family would do this unless they need/want the child to look a specific way. 

7. Johannah Deakin’s Official Obituary Does Not Mention The Child

When looking into babygate, I read the argument that the child is legitimately Louis’ son because he is listed as her grandchild in Internet-based obituaries and announcements. 

I also read the counter-argument that Louis’ mother’s official newspaper/print obituary does not mention the child.  I recall seeing proof, but I did not save it at the time. I did some research and this appears to be true. 

The Doncaster Free Press is a local weekly newspaper in Doncaster, and it published an article about the funeral. The article is NOT an obituary itself, but it does list her obituary details. The publication does not list the child among the surviving family members. 

If a mistake is made regarding these details, it’s typical for newspapers to post a correction addressing a misprint. Upon further research, the Doncaster Free Press did not issue a correction at any time. 

(Author’s Note: I lost my own mother and am personally familiar with how local obituaries are written. Immediate family members - i.e. spouses and adult children - provide information regarding surviving family members.) 

Conclusion

The conclusion here is straightforward. Louis and his family chose not to include the child in his mother’s official obituary. This strongly suggests that he is not legitimately related to Louis. 

My Opinion-Based Conclusions

Update: After some consideration, I am saving my opinion-based conclusions for a separate post. I originally intended to include them here; transparency is important to me.

Unfortunately, the section became rather long and took away from the main post points. So, I’ll be working on a post that’s just my opinion-based conclusions. In the meantime, feel free to message me with any questions. 

Final Thoughts

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my post! I appreciate the interest expressed for it, and I hope it lives up to expectations. 

Again, I want to reiterate this is:

Not an all-inclusive post; I narrowed down my findings to seven points.

Not a masterpost on babygate.

Purposely omitting any potential Larry-related points to remove bias. 

I’ve reread this quite a few times, and it’s as error-free as possible. If you spot any mistakes/errors, I’m completely open to making corrections. Just kindly let me know. 

This list contains references/research about babygate that I consider the most reliable. It includes Larry and non-Larry related Babygate content.

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by Tumblr use genuineconspiracy.

A web archive of babygate posts by Tumblr user tellmethisisnotlove (her account was deactivated by staff).

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by darkrainbowlouis.

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by skepticalarrie.

Lastly, if there’s interest in an opinion-related post or Larry-related post, I’ll consider writing them. Feel free to let me know as you all did with this post. 

Thanks!

Amy (obviouslygenuinely/latetolarry)

#babygate #bg #louis tomlinson #briana jungwirth #freddie Tomlinson #baby tomlinson #end it #larry #larry stylinson #analysis

[swtki]

Anonymous said:

Heyy! Can you do a Cedricxfem!reader smut? Where the reader get stood up at the Yule ball and Cedric heart breaks since he has been in love with the reader for quite some time. And then they do the nasty you know thank you

A/N: Okay so basically...I am a stupid fucking Cedric simp,,,,and since I got home today, and my course work is fairly light for this week (no promises) my requests are open and I will try to get as much out as I can this week before my birthday! Jan 24th and you will get an about me post. ALSO, thanks for 700 (now 710 no brag) followers! I love you guys! Ok onto the fic!.

moodboard

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, SAPPY CEDRIC, BAD WORDS OH GOD OH FUCK

(Y/N) stood in front of her full length mirror in her dormitory room, admiring the fabric hugging her hips. Very rarely did she ever get to see herself like this, never mind other people. Her hand reached up to move a stray strand of hair back into place, a minor detail that although she doubt mattered, she could not refrain from. It was the night of the Yule ball, a night that the girls in her year wanted perfection more than ever, (Y/n) not excluded. 

It would not be unheard of, however it would be rather embarrassing to show up un-courted. Nobody to dance with, nobody to share a moment in the moonlight with. That’s why when Miles Dane asked her to the ball, she did not hesitate to say yes. 

To be quite honest, the two seventh years had never really talked. Though, they did have potions together. Surely, she would get to know him while sharing a dance, and she had to admit that he was quite charming and handsome. A tall Ravenclaw boy, lankly in the most perfect way, his skin a medium tone that glowed in the sunlight, so the carriages weren’t out of the question either. 

The clock on the wall read six fifty, there was no sign of Miles, only (Y/N) and her twiddling thumbs. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hurt him even, but above all, she wanted to believe he was coming. Everything was going to be perfect. It should all be perfect.

Inside the hall, Cedric Diggory, the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, was pretending to be interested. The mundane conversation between Cho, his date who he now was sure didn’t even remember who she came with, and another seventh year girl droned on. Despite the banging of the loud music into his ear, Cedrics head was silent. Bored. Without saying anything, he slipped away from the table, creeping into the corridor for a breath of fresh air. 

The cold December air hit Cedrics face with a refreshing feeling, the pressures of being a Tri-Wizard champion melted off of his shoulders. Though, he didn’t like to admit it, he sometimes questioned if this path was right for him. Would it have been better if he had stayed put, never scratched his name upon the parchment? He knew that he couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. Cedrics tall, lean body slumped against the stone wall. All was quiet around him, a welcomed environment. Then, he heard the faintest gasp, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up.

“Fuck,” (Y/N) sighed out, wiping the small bead of sorrow that had escaped from her eye. She knew Miles was not coming. A dark figure leaning over her crouched body interrupted her racing mind. Instinctually, she looked up from her knees.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?”  Cedric said in a soft voice.

“Nothing..nothing is wrong Diggory.” She avoided eye contact. Cedric and (Y/N) had been friends in years prior, particularly in third year. But as time drew on, their paths separated, effectively making them strangers to one another. He had gone on to be a hearthrob who was wanted by every girl, while she had focused on her studies and the go-to for casual sex.

“You know, we may not have sat together for three years, but don’t you think I can tell when you’re lying?” He squatted on the cement next to her, becoming eye level. “Now, what are you doing out here? You look so gorgeous, I’m sure your bloke in there is missing you.” His hand gestured behind him to the large archway leaking a bright tune. 

“Yeah, thats the thing,” she drew a sharp breath in, tilting her head up, “My bloke never fucking showed up. Look at me, all dressed up and no one to dance with.” Her eyes closed, painting a small smile in an attempt to conceal her pain.

“Oh...I see.” Cedric stood up and offered his hand to the girl below him. “Well, let me fix that for you.” She rolled her eyes, but happily accepted.

Opting to stay where they were, the two swayed in each others arms. The warmth of Cedrics arms comforted the girl, soothing her in a way Cedric had not soothed her in years. 

“Didn’t you come with a date?” she asked, her head on his chest.

“Yeah, shes inside. She lost interest with me I’m afraid.” Cedric made a small chuckle that made her bite her lip. “You know...I’ve heard about your reputation. I’m a little surprised, I thought you would always hate boys. Cooties was it?” He teased, resting his chin on her head.

“Oh fuck off. For the record, I did like boys. I liked you, Cedric. I still do.” He pulled away from her figure slightly, his eyes searching over her face. Then without any hesitation, he collided his lips to hers.

Shocked at first, she froze. But within a second, her hands were cradling his face. The kiss was deep, full of years worth of emotion. His grip tightened on her waist. Time stood still for the pair, it felt like hours before Cedric pulled away.

“Do you want to go to my dorm?” He said, panting. 

“Won’t people notice if you run off?? You’re like a celebrity around here, Ced.” She grinned up at him. Cedrics face took a more serious appearance, but his manor became relaxed.  

“Fuck ‘em.” His large hand grasped hers, leading the way to his dormitory.

(Y/N) sat on the soft mattress, her body stiff and unsure. Cedric fumbled around, locking the door, playing suave. He stood a mere three feet from her, wondering how he got so lucky. 

“Did you want to just chat because...Cedric, I can do far more than chat with you.” She gave him a seductive look, making the boy swallow hard.

“Well I... I mean trust me, the way you look sitting on my bed is amazing, and I’m all for it. But the question is, are you - I mean do you want to? With me?” A rose blush creeped upon the Hufflepuff boys face, making (Y/N) giggle.

“Come here, Ced.” She beckoned him over to her with her finger. He happily obliged, walking over to sit next to her. But before he could sit, she put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his place. “Stand...I want you to stand while I sit. Is it okay if I..?” she gestured to the growing errection inside his trousers. 

“Fuck...please darling.” She bit her lip and started undoing his pants, enjoying the sight before her eyes. She stroked his cock, admiring the way his eyes scrunched up when she ran her thumb over the tip. Smiling, she leaned over and put it in her mouth. His soft moans filled the room as he ran his slender fingers through her soft hair. All of the sudden, he yanked her off, pushing her on her back.

“My turn, love.” Cedrics mouth started leaving sloppy kisses around her mouth, trailing down to her neck while his left hand massaged her tit over her dress. Her elbows pressed into the bed, pushing her up.

“Wait, lets get these off, yeah?” Cedric kissed her, then unzipped her dress, fumbling to strip himself as quickly as he could. Once she was left in just her knickers, he continued where he had left off. He traveled until he got to her covered pussy, looking up at her to see if he could continue. She nodded, her eyes filled with need.

Cedrics left hand pushed apart her legs, letting him get a proper look at how she felt about him. His other hand yanked off her knickers, little did Y/N know how mental simple white cotton undies made Cedric. Without hesitation, his mouth started attacking her sensitive clit. The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever felt with her previous fucks, because this pleasure was dedicated with love. Her eyes rolled back into her head, a wanton moan escaping from her throat. This encouraged him to suck on her clit, and then to Y/Ns delight, inserted two fingers. Filthy moans filled the room as her cunt felt so pleasured in a way she had never felt. 

“Fuck thats so fucking...oh my god Ced.” He moved his fingers at a faster speed, attacking her clit simultaneously. Eyes rolling back into her head, a pure groan of pleasure filled Cedrics ears as she bucked her hips, reaching a climax unlike any other. 

Cedric stood, climbed on the bed, then looked at her. 

“Do you want to..keep going or?” He ran his thumb over her lips.

“yes but..I wanna be on top” His heart beat faster, his erection becoming somehow even harder.  He laid down on his bed, allowing her to swing a leg over his hips. Y/N grabbed his member and ran it through her folds, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. Then she sunk her body onto his, both of them in seventh heaven. 

Her hips started rocking against his, making his cock hit all the right parts inside her. Cedric was in love with the sight before him, his eyes looking at her like she was a goddess. Her hand reached down, rubbing her clit, maximizing her pleasure. It wasn't long until her next orgasm washed over her, making Cedric even more eager to put himself to use. When she was back off her high, he  brought her down to him, chest to chest. Thrusting up into her was the best feeling he could have imagined, it went on for minutes, both of them feeling amazing. 

Y/N leaned over into his ear to whisper,

“Please cum inside me, Ced. Please, I want you to use me and leave my body stained with your cum.” Cedric, finding out that now he had a thing for cumming inside her, sped up. His hips clashed with her arse as his climax grew closer and closer. 

Cedrics eyes rolled into his head, his body releasing his cum into hers. His legs shook a bit, he had just had the best orgasm he had ever had. The girl on top of him rolled over, now laying beside him. Both of them sat in silence, trying to catch their breath.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N”

#cedric x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory smut #robert pattinson smut #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco mallfoy imagines #draco mallfoy x reader

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɴᴇ | ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

After thinking about it and reading Admin T’s angsty fic, I too, have decided to post my own angsty fic, and why not a Levi one? SKSKSK He’s the one that comes to me the easiest when it comes to writing anything, so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~! 

Please note there will be canon divergence (mainly as I haven’t caught up in the manga or anime in a hot second) 

And yes, I listened to Love is Gone by Slander & Dylan Matthew to get in the mood LOLOL

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 

TW: Major Character Death ; Depressive episodes ; PTSD ; Mental Instability ; Body Mutilation

» » Admin Ko

“Levi! LEVI! GET OUT OF HERE! PLEASE! GET AWAY---”

A sharp inhale and the bright white light of the morning sun was all that welcomed the ex-corporal as he sat rigidly in his bed.  Slowly, frantic metallic blue eyes skimmed down to battered and scarred hands as he watched his body move in an odd state of delirium. Oddly fixated on the way his knuckles paled and how tightly he grasped his sheets, Levi hadn’t even realized the painful sting in his lungs as the cool slick of sweat dripped down the nape of his neck.

It was a barrage of movements from there, his eyes remaining unfocused as he watched the chaos that spilled in his bedroom from an out of body perspective. It was...odd to say the least. He watched familiar faces come to calm his body down, easing him back into a sense of reality as he watched the cogs in his own face work to ease up the grip he once had on the sheets and the trembling he had ceased.

Another flash and he found himself back in his own body, blankly staring down at his scarred hands once again. The room was left barren all over again as he found himself staring out the window and into the gorgeous scenery before him. 

It hadn’t been that long since they had discovered the truth behind the entire catastrophe they found themselves in, yet it felt as though it was ages ago since he’s stepped forth outside. Or had it? If Levi were being honest, he couldn’t remember shit, and that itself only added to his agitation as he glared at the empty walls he was trapped in.

“Fuck...”

Clenching his teeth, the ex-corporal forced himself to get out of bed. A strange tug in his heart drew him towards the desk hidden within the corner of the room. Strewn across the poorly put together desk were notes, plans, letters, photographs, and...a locket?

Perhaps it was his age that was getting to him, or maybe it was the heat, but what was so important about this shitty piece of jewelry? Slowly picking up the accessory, Levi gave a brief once over to it before feeling a scoff build in his throat.

“Tch, it’s probably Lt. (L/N)’s.....”

Slowly, the words faltered from falling out of his throat as he felt his heart skip a beat. Cool metallic blue hues suddenly vibrant with evident fear as flashes of red and torn limbs flashed in his eyes. The quickening of his breath went unheard as he suddenly leaned over the table. Those scarred hands that have seen days of combat suddenly felt numb as the telltale sign of pins and needles crawled their way down to his fingers.

“Levi? Levi~~ Levi! LEVI!”

Flashes of her face swam through his vision as the once clear image of his desk became fragmented as he dropped to the floor. He didn’t even feel his knees dig into the floor-- rather he couldn’t care less as he desperately clung onto the locket as the memories from a week ago resurfaced into his mind. The tears that he once thought had dried up began pouring down his cheeks as the ache in his chest multiplied.

»»————- ♪ ————-««

The rustling of leaves caught his attention. Despite the cool weather they’ve finally been given it still brought the ex-corporal a sense of unease as he watched the small party work around in gathering materials whilst discussing their next plan of action. 

It hadn’t been long since they’ve dealt with Kenny and his gang, but if Levi was certain of one thing it was that he didn’t want to cross paths with that man ever again. Already he barely managed to scrape by whilst making sure their original plan had worked.

“Oi, dipshit.”

“Tch.”

No matter how hard he sought to smack that cheeky smile off of her face, he never found the heart to do it. Not when she held his with such a pretty smile. 

“You’re spacing out again. Kenny’s bullshit still getting to you?”

“...”

“Oh come on, you can tell me~.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oooh~ Touchy touchy. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I thought you were pretty badass!”

A skip to his heart. Something that wasn’t uncommon when he found himself with her. Of course he’d never let her know, instead he gave her a roll of his eyes before kicking her away.

“Get back to work.”

“Fine fine~. Oh! But in all seriousness, whatever is looming in that brooding mind of yours, just remember we still got the plan done. Whatever happened in the past is whatever. We just gotta look toward the future, yeah?”

“...tch. Hurry up and get the fuck over there already. Those damn shit wads look like they’re going to break their backs.”

A mock salute, one that he found endearing in her own quirky way though when he least suspected it she was right back up in his face. A cocky little smirk graced her lips before those chapped yet soothingly familiar feel of her lips brushing his own registered in his brain, and before he could react she was merrily skipping towards the struggling ex-cadets.

“...you’re damn lucky I love you shitty (y/n)...”

➽───────────────❥

BANG

“Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck!”

BOOM BOOM CRASH

“HOW THE FUCK DID THEY GET HERE?! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!”

SCREEEEEECCHHHHHHH

Hell on earth, better known as the mass migration of Titans. One minute he was seated with Armin. Easily discussing strategies and the next movement for their plans. The moment he blinked the makeshift tents they had were on fire. Smoke was rising to the skies and the screams of people filled his ears. Immediately, Levi reacted. Rushing to grab his swords he mentally checked off a list of what needed to be done. Yet before he could even reach his own gear the hissing telltale sign of someone whisking into action caught his ears.

The reaction was immediate as he looked up to see fierce (e/c) hues. Calloused hands he’s held plenty of times underneath tables were now clenched tightly around her swords as she went about luring as many titans away as she could. 

“...evi, Levi, CAPTAIN LEVI!”

Shocked out of his stupor he turned to face Connie who was frantically grabbing at his arm as he finally took the chance to take in the scene before him.

Whatever carts they had salvaged were packed away with what little they could save. The bodies of those who had already fallen were hanging from the trees and already in the distant background he saw the revolting sight of a wretched up human meatball. 

“Status?”

“We’ve lost at l-least a couple of hands. Captain (y/n) told us to gather as much as we could and to gain distance while she distracts them--”

“Is there back up with her?”

“..N-No sir...”

“Are you fucking STUPID? Tch, get moving Springer. (y/n) and I will catch up shortly.”

“B-But”

“Did. I. Stutter.”

“N-No sir...”

“Then get moving!”

Not even taking the chance to watch the male rush back to the small party of cadets, Levi hurriedly put his harness and gear on in record time before whisking himself towards the sound of gurgling and inhumane sounds. 

“Just stay alive....please, I can’t lose you too...”

➽───────────────❥

Horrific. That’s the best that he could describe the sight before him. The carcasses of fallen allies and titans alike littered the ground as the once distant storm clouds drew in close. The light sprinkling of rain undoubtedly triggered a wave of unnecessary deja vu as he trudged on until he saw a lone figure standing a top the last titan from the herd. 

Suddenly, the once tight hold around his heart loosened as a breath he didn’t know he was holding finally escaped his throat as he relaxed his stance.

“Oi shit for brains. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Oh! Levi! I thought you were with the others?”

“And leave a shitty captain like you to half ass the job?”

“Heh, you know it’s okay to admit you were worried about me stupid. It’s just us.”

Another roll of his eyes was given as he begrudgingly made his way towards her, a half assed smile gracing his features as he held his hand out towards her.

“Tch, you’re lucky I fucking love you shit for brains.”

The smile she gave was blinding. One that he surely could never find an immunity to as he savored the warmth of her calloused hand in his own scarred and tainted ones.

“Heh~ I love you too shitty corporal~.”

With that, the pair began their journey towards the base. A brief conversation in regards to how much compressed air was left in their tanks being their main worry as they walked. Though as that continued the rain that had once sprinkled began to heavily pour down. A sound of irritation left his lips as she lightly laughed, easily scooting herself closer to him as he begrudgingly wrapped an arm around her waist.

“This rain makes things just as bad, doesn’t it?”

“Yea---”

“....Levi?”

“Sh!”

Immediately a sense of dread filled his chest as he tugged her towards a tree, quickly hiding by the base as the loud crashes and thumps of footsteps prevailed throughout the lands. 

“...dammit....how much gas do you have left?”

“....Enough to swing by two of those big ass trees.”

A grimace. Again, that pool of dread seemed to fill faster as he subconsciously held onto her tightly. He had enough gas to swing back to at least the vicinity of the planned meet up spot, but with an additional body? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps if he were able to split it.

“We’re switching tanks--”

“No we’re not. You are going to keep your goddamn tanks and I’ll keep mine. Worse comes to worse you leave me here.”

“I’m not leaving you--”

A quick kiss to his lips as her fists bunched up his dress shirt. If he felt a tremble in her hands or the way her lips wobbled he didn’t mention it.

“Look. We both know that between the two of us you’re the one who has the best deduction and quick thinking. If it had to be one or the other....it has to be you.”

“Shut the fuck up. We’re going back together.”

“Levi...”

“No! shut the fuck up. I’m not leaving you behind. I’ve lost too many fucking people! I can’t lost you too! You’re....you’re all I have left in this shitty world...please (y/n)...”

Though before she could even reply a sharp scream came from her as he was roughly pushed to the side. On instinct her hands moved to hold the swords attached to her hips before jetting off for a nearby tree.

In response, the large titan moved for her. It’s large beady eyes leering at it’s new prey as she tightly grasped her blades.

“(y/n)!”

Levi didn’t even recognize his own voice as he went to grab his own swords. His fingers itching to press the triggers for the canisters, yet he was cut short at her voice and the shaky glare she gave him. One that only further plummeted his heart into his stomach as she gave him a trembilng grin.

“I got this! Just go and don’t turn back okay? I’ll be right behind you!”

“BULL SHIT. YOU BARELY HAVE ENOUGH GAS IN THOSE TANKS--”

“WELL I WAS LYING OKAY? NOW GO! I CAN HANDLE THIS ONE!”

“THEN LET’S---”

ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR

As if the distress wasn’t enough, the quick rumbling of earth and stone had both captains pale as (y/n) tightly held onto her blades. Her gaze no longer on the titan before her, but rather the hoard that was nearing their now disclosed location.

“...Levi you have to go.”

“No. We’re doing this together.”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE PLEASE LEVI! JUST GO. YOU WON’T HAVE ENOUGH GAS BY THE END OF THIS JUST PLEASE GO!”

“WHAT IF I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK? I’M NOT LEAVING YOU SHIT FOR BRAINS!” 

Gritting her teeth, she mustered up as much strength as she could as she hurriedly reached for the smoke gun. Without a moment’s notice, she shot the pellet. A trail of black littering the skies as she gave the other a glare.

“THERE. THEY’LL COME HERE TO HELP SO PLEASE GO AND BRING THEM HERE. I CAN HANDLE THIS ONE MYSELF AND THEN I’LL SWING UP.”

Gritting his teeth, he could only give her a stern glare as he reluctantly did as he was told. Without a moment’s delay he shot forth, desperate in tracking the familiar wagon to bring back reinforcements as the sound of a titan hitting the floor brought him a sense of ease.

“Damn you (y/n) you better keep your fucking word!”

. . . 

“I’m sorry Levi...I lied...I don’t have enough to swing up...”

Teary eyed, she let her tanks drop to the grounds below as her racing heart seemed to be in beat with the thundering steps of the hoard of titans on their way towards the sound of the fallen one’s cry. Subconsciously, she pressed her fist to her chest. Why? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she just had to keep it safe for him.

➽───────────────❥

Upon spotting the rickety wagon, Levi jetted straight for the reins. His eyes frantic as the leftover cadets near him seemed shaken by his brutish actions. He didn’t necessarily care though. What mattered to him was reaching (y/n)’s side with her seated on one of the thick branches with that cheeky grin he adored while he and the rest of the moving cadets could annihilated the hoard of titans.

Yet when he returned the pit in his stomach formed into that of utter despair. Where he should’ve seen (y/n) he found nothing. Instead, he saw the tattered remains of her cloak pinned to the tree as the hoard of demons fought over something...some...thing...some...one.

He didn’t know what happened next. Rather he couldn’t. As if his lungs had suddenly malfunctioned and stopped working. He hadn’t even realized he had jetted out from the wagon. All he saw was a glimpse of her bloody face and suddenly he saw red. 

It was an utter rampage. Sounds of desperation, anger, and hurt filled the skies as the rain continued to pour down relentlessly. The titans that had once stood tall now laid in horrifying dismembered piles. (y/n)’s body-- rather what was left of it. 

Ripped from the torso down, her legs were practically disintegrated. Most likely stewing away in one of the fallen titans’ bodies. A brief flash of her spine had most turning away to vomit, yet Levi stared lifelessly. His body trudging slowly to her as his lower lip wobbled. The pain in his chest multiplied tenfold as those warm (e/c) were glassy and unfocused. 

I'm sorry, don't leave me I want you here with me

Dropping to his knees, he gently cupped her cheeks as he pressed his forehead to hers. A shaky breath finally escaping him as he struggled to take in another breath of air as the rain continued it’s assault on him.

I can't breathe, I'm so weak

“Fuck... come on shit for brains... open those beautiful eyes for me...come on...yeah? You said we were gonna go see those damn pink trees...right?”

No response. Not that anyone had expected one. Forcefully breathing in he forced a weak smile onto his trembling features as his sight began to blur.

“C’mon (y/n)...stop playing these fucking games and look at me...c’mon.... I know you can dumbass...”

The pain in his chest amplified as the lack of response continued to shake her. An attempt to wake her up as he blatantly ignored the lack of legs and the disgustingly slow plops of viscera staining the grassy floors.

“Fucking shit (y/n) wake the fuck up. I’m tired of these fucking games. If you keep doing this bullshit I wont take you to see those damn trees you’re obsessed with when we fix this shit...”

Flashes of bodies. Each familiar to him in their own sickening way as a wretched sob came out of his chest. Desperately, he held her close. The care he had for his clothes now out the window as he buried his face into the crook of her neck as he shook with rage and absolute pain.

Don't tell me that your love is gone That your love is gone

➽───────────────❥

The ride was silent. Just the clopping horseshoes whilst he tightly held onto the bundle that was, in his words, a sleeping (y/n).

“...Captain?”

“What is it Arlert?”

Despite the clear hoarseness in his voice, Levi still held a bite to his voice. The lack of emotion in his eyes was pitiful, especially knowing how many loved ones the man has lost.

“...As we were cleaning Captain (y/n) up...we...found this.”

A tilt of his head was given, and before he could ask any questions the glittering of metal caught his attention.

“It’s a locket...I apologize I peeked inside...but I feel as though she would want you to have this.”

»»————- ♪ ————-««

Red rimmed eyes stared at the photo. It was something she had suggested-- stupid if you had asked him in the moment, but at this moment he couldn’t help but tightly hold onto the only photo of her left. Bringing the locket to his chest, the strong captain curled up into a ball as a new wave of emotions overcame him.

Having cried all his tears out, all that came out of him left were weakened whimpers and desperate heavy breaths as he tightly curled around the locket. The demolished state of the room proved to be a perfect depiction of his mind as the letters she wrote for fun back then were sprawled all around him. The sheets from the bed now in a makeshift nest around him as bloodied hands cupped the locket. 

“Why was it you...why couldn’t it have been me?”

A flash of her smile. The sweet harmonies of her laughter. Adoring warm (e/c) hues.

“...why couldn’t it have been m e?”

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot levi #tiny bit of angst #oops i meant a fuck ton #tw; major character death #tw; depression #tw; ptsd #tw; mental instability #tw; body mutilation

[pluviophile-bookworm]

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series: The Rewatch pt.3

Ok, full disclosure: I should not be doing this right now. But I've been thinking about it since yesterday and, well, I reckon I can go over 1x4 and 5, and then move on to my actual work. So here we are. I'm really, really excited for these two, so without further ado, I'll dive right into:

1x4: It's hard to believe that I couldn't see... the majority of what happens in this episode when I first watched it

Why is Nini such a pro at making a scene with whoever her current boyfriend is in the middle of a public place? I mean, I get it that she's upset about EJ going through her phone — who wouldn't be — but maybe - and this is just a friendly suggestion — she could try and discuss that in private, not start a shouting match within view of all their classmates. Just saying.

'Ricky would never steal my phone' — well, perhaps not, but he's not quite above deleting stuff from it, either... I wonder if whoever is writing this show knows that there are many other ways to make a relationship unhealthy... it's not funny anymore. Just repetitive.

Ahhh Natalie and her emotional support hamster! At least there's one good thing about this scene.

Sure, Ricky, blame Big Red for the fact that you misplace your stuff... a very nice best friend he's got, indeed.

Gosh, everything is so awkward and there is just so much tension all over the place — Ricky's parents, then EJ and Nini, and then Carlos just being oblivious to the fact that they just broke up... you know, that last part just made me laugh. And then Ricky's reaction to his parents legally separating just broke my heart. That boy's been through too much.

Big Red being completely clueless about theatre terms is super funny and endearing, but let me just put myself in his shoes for a sec. He's followed his best friend into a badly thought-out scheme to get back together with his ex, got dragged into joining the crew, and is now expected to know what everything is. I would not put up with that... ok, who are we kidding, I'm a massive pushover and would put up with anything, but my point is... he shouldn't have to. At least people are doing the bare minimum to help him learn and nobody's laughed at him for not knowing. That's the good thing about this crew.

Ok, so I have posted about my thoughts of their take on What I've Been Looking For before, back when the episode was brand new, so I won't go into detail about that. In short, I think they've got the arrangement all wrong considering that it is a plot point in the original movie, but... the execution is funny. The scene is about Nini and EJ's post-breakup tension and it shows. I just kind of wish now Miss Jenn had pulled Nini out and put Gina in, even just for this rehearsal — and I might or might not be saying this as a Portwell shipper.

Miss Jenn is done with the students' personal drama and honestly, I'm right behind her. These kids are being completely unprofessional — and well, I realise that we can't expect them to be professional at this stage, but... they could at least try to concentrate on rehearsal and not their personal lives for a second.

Ricky hugging a cushion is my spirit animal. That's it, that's the comment.

Ahhh the tension between EJ and Gina though... 'around here seniors don't follow sophomores' — well, we'll see how it goes, Mr. Senior.

What gives Nini the right to shout at strangers about their relationship? I am honestly so frustrated with her these days. Wonder why I never was during season 1. The reasons are all there.

'He loves you' — yeah, like a little sister, he does. Also, Ash is so precious, always trying to see the good in other people. EJ 1.0 is so lucky he had her as an example.

Ok, I'm not going to go into what an amazing best friend Big Red is because we all know that (plus I'm saving it for a certain scene in 1x5), but this must be so hard for him. I mean, he's trying his absolute best to help Ricky feel better and distract him from his problems, and Ricky is turning everything down. I mean, I guess I understand where he's coming from too, but I'm unable to look at things through the lead-centric lens alone anymore. I'm more aware of non-lead characters now (some more so than others) and this is putting a whole new spin on my perception of everything that happens.

I've got no idea how Big Red can sleep with all this noise, though. I could never. But to each their own.

'perfect on paper' — that's EJ 1.0 to a T. I've got to give Nini that.

Ricky wearing the pride t-shirt... we love to see it.

See, this is why I keep forgetting why I ever shipped Rini and then remembering again... their chemistry is just so on-again-off-again, and here it's definitely present, but I just need a couple with consistent chemistry, you know. Hey, isn't that kind of what All I Want is about? Kind of. I don't know. I've been unable to listen to that song ever since it got big irl. I have this... problem with media that becomes popular and mainstream... I mean, I never hold a grudge against things just for being popular, but I just... relate to underrated stuff much easier. Not because it's underrated, but it just so happens that nearly everything I like and relate to is underrated in some capacity. Even HSMTMTS itself — it's practically unheard of here in Bulgaria, so I would not have found it if I hadn't been looking for it specifically. Ok, this comment got derailed several times. I guess I'll just stop here and move right on to 1x5 at this point.

1x5: A bedazzled tablecloth, a perfectly balanced unicycle and bad reception at the barn... not the perfect ingredients, but they can still... Work This Out

'Miss Jenn says that's a life in the arts... well, that and almost constant unemployment' — alright, I know this line is not supposed to be funny, and that it's a painful reality for a lot of people, but... maybe it's the delivery. I just laugh every time.

See, this is what I mean when I say I want to see consistent chemistry — Seblos have it. I mean, I really don't want to jinx things, but... they do.

Big Red seems to be in a more... outspoken mood today, I guess you could say. Too bad Ricky is still shutting everything he says down. Seriously, Big Red and Seb should start a club for people who try their best to be there for their loved ones and still keep being shushed.

I might be super frustrated with nearly everything Nini says and does (can somebody please tell me why that is?), but... flushing her dress down the toilet? Major mood.

Listen, I love Miss Jenn and that she's close to her students, but... emerging from a toilet cubicle and inviting herself to Kourtney and Nini's girls' night was... Will Shuester level of questionable.

Ricky being the mature one about his parents separation is... I mean, it's admirable, but how did he move past the impending depression of last episode and towards being the one who tells his dad to get up and move on? Well, I mean, good for him. But I think the issue is far from buried yet.

'Friend of the year'? Ricky? I don't think so. First of all, if he were, he'd know that Big Red does not have two left feet. Wasn't it you, Ricky, who was stumbling over the steps in HSM a couple of weeks ago? You're one to talk. Plus Big Red's been listening and trying to help while you've just been spouting off about your personal problems for... how long has it been now? I get it, Ricky has issues that he needs to work through, but he's almost legally blind in both eyes when it comes to Big Red.

Ok, but Ricky is the epitome of 'cannot solve his own problems but has a suggestion on how everybody else should solve theirs' in this episode. Maybe take a step back and listen to your own advice?

'My parents think I'm bonding with the livestock' — I've got no idea why I find this line so funny, but I do. And I've got so much love for this entire scene. Carlos' reaction to Seb's response to his invitation is just... the most adorable thing ever! My heart might just burst. Especially given what we're about to go through tomorrow in 2x10... I am. Not. Ready.

The entire karaoke scene just reminds me of... pretty much every extended family reunion on my mum's side. Her cousins love karaoke and are also completely tone-deaf. I love it that they're able to have fun with it, but my ears are still recovering from my great aunt's birthday party two years ago.

'When did you become Nini?' — Why does Mr. Mazzara know so much about his students' dating lives? I mean, Miss Jenn does, too, but he doesn't strike me as someone as invested in them as her. Idk, it just struck me as kind of weird.

'I didn't agree to photos' — please, EJ, I'm sure you'll want memories from your first fake-dating gig with Gina... once you're no longer fake-dating, you know. Boy, these two are going to have stories to tell to their grandchildren.

I've said some stuff about Nini, but... 'a bedazzled tablecloth' is the funniest description I've heard for Gina's homecoming dress.

'Maybe it's not actually about you at all.' Yeah, you tell him, Reddy! Ricky needs to get over himself.

The way Big Red sniffs out the drama, though... I was not-so-randomly reminded of that moment in 2x9 where Seb was like Carlos. and Big Red was like, 'Are you guys fighting?'...

Big Red doing a comedic lip-reading of Gina and EJ's dramatic scene is absolutely hilarious. I might or might not have sold my heart and soul to him after seeing that scene for the first time. But I just remembered how he said earlier that maybe he can't read lips and that just makes this 100% funnier — he was basically like a child who can't read yet making up a story based on the pictures in a book, and I mean it in the best way possible. He's a theatre dark horse, this one, and they should all be intimidated — or inspired, whatever they choose — by his hidden talents. Gosh, I love this guy. But can you blame me?

'You think I'm actually going to confide in you?' — Absolutely. You can't bully someone from your position of authority over them and then act like you're their friend. I do know now that Mr. Mazzara has hidden depths, but he had no right to be as rude to Carlos as he was in 1x3. He was right about one thing, though — Carlos doesn't need a dance partner to dance.

Ricky saying he was going to apologise to Gina and counting that as an apology is giving me major TJ/ Buffy flashbacks. I wonder why that is... * sarcasm *

Nini feeling like a fraud makes me actually sympathise with her for a second. But I feel like Nini's flaw of defining herself through boys and Ricky in particular has been addressed one time too many now, since it was first addressed here in this episode. If they make her and Ricky get back together again in season 2, I will riot. [side note: I feel like the Born to Be Brave scene says a lot about both Rini and Seblos as couples. Nini and Carlos both feel, in the moments leading up to the song, like they are incomplete without their partners. Ricky, too, has built his personality entirely around Nini at that time (and is still not completely over that in s2). And then the song comes in to remind them that they don't need a partner to be happy. I'm just thinking of Big Red's 'perfectly balanced unicycle' comment from the promotional materials, and of how he and Ashlyn, even when they're dating in s2, are never portrayed as being incomplete without each other. I guess there's a reason why they're the Beta Couple of the show — their relationship drama is nearly non-existent, and when it does exist, it's just caused by them caring too much about each other. Every other couple on the show should learn from them.]

Everybody supporting Carlos during the Born to Be Brave number just warms my heart so much... I am actually crying real tears. And then the end, when Seb finally shows up, right in time for the slow dance... I have a lot of feelings about this scene.

Seblos' dialogue here still kind of makes me cringe a little... but like, in a good way.

Yikes... Miss Jenn's getting into trouble... I mean, it was bound to happen sooner or later. But she's lucky she's had enough time with her students for them to love her enough to fight for her. Still, this is a topic for another episode, and so I won't expand on it in this post.

Well, that's it. That was 1x4 and 5. Those were pretty much my favourite episodes when season 1 was airing. And I can definitely see why, even if my views on some things have changed due to stuff that happens later. But, as I constantly say, that's what rewatches are for. In other words, 'once more, with feeling this time' as my choir director used to say.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts: the rewatch #nini salazar-roberts #ricky bowen #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn caswell #ashlyn moon caswell #big red redonovich #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew smith #kourtney greene #hsmtmts miss jenn #hsmtmts mr mazzara #rini #seblos #redlyn #portwell #jnk

[felassan]

Hello! Been reading the wonderful lore posts about Solas' funky new mural in the trailer the last week and, as I was replaying Inquisition I came across this in the Fade.

Never held much significance before but now it makes me immediatly think of the post you made about the Evanuris, as well as the Old Gods. Do you think it might relate to either or none? I'd be interested to know what you think either way, your lore posts are a delight to read ^^

Hello! I love how the newest mural generated a bunch of discussion along with a whole heap of new speculative and theorycrafting posts! And thank you very much 😊 The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

Edit: Sorry, not sure what’s up with the coding/layout of this post!

Back in the day, before Descent released, I originally assumed the Whispers were ‘echoes’ - if you will - of the imprisoned Evanuris. endure is quite elfy (suledin/endure, and the song of that name). “Crippled” and “polluted” and the red lyrium stuff in general work well if you subscribe to the theory that the Evanuris were tainted and/or red lyrium-corrupted when they were locked away (see tale of Andruil returning from the Void with armor made of darkness etc), or that they became that way or became similarly twisted after being trapped for so long, especially if said prison is the Black City [a Tainted place]. Linking it to the Evanuris also always makes me think of that one dialogue line from Cole when he’s talking to Solas: “They sleep, masked in the mirror, hiding, hurting, and to wake them - [gasp]”. Both that line and the Whispers contain similar elements like waiting, sleeping, hurting in a manner of speaking at least, and being woken up.

I haven’t been sure of that for a long time. Assuming no link between the Evanuris and the Old Gods for the purposes of this line of speculation, it could instead be to do with the Old Gods as you say. The remaining slumbering Old Gods have also been ‘there’, waiting and sleeping and being awoken in turn. Though it’s not quite “Whispering”, they do in a manner communicate with other beings while trapped - the darkspawn who hear their song and relentlessly search for them - and in their time they used to whisper to ancient Tevinter humans. However, a strike against it pertaining to the Old Gods would be the fact that the lore says they aren’t Tainted until the searching darkspawn find them. Like, I wouldn’t instinctively describe a still-sleeping Old God as “polluted”? A further strike could be that red lyrium isn’t something that automatically leaps to mind when thinking about the Old Gods, unlike when thinking about the Titans (see below) or even the Evanuris (the Andruil stuff again).

Another possibility is that it’s to do with the Titans. Stone endures, and the Titan in Descent had recently stirred. Titans sing (communication), there are other Titans out there and there’s a reference in the lore to a Titan awakening during the time of King/Paragon Orseck Garal. Blue lyrium is the blood of Titans, and a Titan with red lyrium blood or that had been afflicted by the Taint would certainly count as a polluted entity. 

Finding dreams again and being crippled/sundered is also dwarfy language actually, despite the fact that dwarves don’t dream and the fact that it was elves who became sundered from themselves and the Fade when Solas made the Veil - consider Solas’ dialogue line where he says “dwarves [in their current state in modern Thedas] are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood, undirected, whatever skill at arms it had gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream”. When Valta connects to the Titan in Descent, although she ironically now no longer sleeps (which is usually a prerequisite to.. dreaming), she’s really reconnecting, regaining the connection to a Titan that dwarves used to have (like a severed limb being reattached). That’s where the sundered stuff comes in. At the moment most Titans, and Titans in general, are sundered from their children, the dwarves. In this way both the Titans and the dwarves are crippled, two separated halves of a whole.

After reconnecting, Valta writes in her journal about the world that once was, “before everything changed and the dwarven race broke in two” (i.e. before the dwarven race was sundered). And although she now no longer sleeps, when she closes her eyes she now sees glimpses of things that used to be, glimpses of things the Titan is showing and singing to her - what’s that, if not a form of dreaming? It’s not daydreaming per se, but the Titan is clearly showing her its memories, or dreams if you will, of what once was, and stuff, probably of what it hopes to see one day again too (given the loneliness in its song).. and ‘dream’ as a word has a broader meaning than just literally “images you see when you sleep”. 

Anyway, the Evanuris or some of the ancient elves describe connected dwarves in Old Elven Writing as “workers” of the “pillars of the earth” [Titans], “scurry[ing], witless, soulless”, but how do we know they really were witless and soulless? It reads like one part propaganda and one part incorrect assumption, which isn’t a surprise because in that passage the Evanuris/some of the ancient elves were basically preparing to hunt the Titans and by extension mercy-kill some of the connected dwarves, who they perceived as witless and soulless. But reconnected Valta clearly isn’t witless and soulless, she just has a different manner of existence to what the ancient elves (spirit-adjacent as they were) had. Dreaming also comes up in relation to the dwarves as lyrium, the blood of their Titan ‘parents’, bridges the gap between the mundane world and the Fade, which is the world of dreams ("It is possible—even likely—that the "emerald waters" Andraste refers to are the substance of the Fade, which began as an "ocean of dreams””); this is what Valta regains, “its blood now flows through me” and now she sees the things it shows her when she shuts her eyes.

It’s also important to mention the Torn Notebook from the Deep Roads in Trespasser, Section 3 -  

Trying to remember that old bedtime song about Mythal. My mother sang it the night before the darkspawn came for my clan. It's the last time I ever heard her voice.

Ir sa tel'nal, Mythal las ma theneras. Ir san'a emma. Him solas evanuris. Da'durgen'lin, Banal malas elgara. Bellanaris, bellanaris.

Written beside each elven line is a corresponding phrase, likely a translation:

I am empty, filled with nothing(?), Mythal gives you dreams. It fills you, within you(?), Making our leaders proud. My little stones, Never yours the sun. Forever, forever.

Hahren said we had lost some of the old words. What if they have changed? Durgen'lin from durgen'len? Little dwarves, never yours the sun? What did Mythal do here?

as here is dreaming, or gaining dreams, cropping up once again in relation to the dwarves. What Mythal “did here” btw was striking down the Titans and “rendering their demesne to the People”. A demesne is one’s domain or land. In this context it probably also refers to resources and their very forms, as we know that the Evanuris were mining the bodies of Titans for lyrium and “something else”, the something else probably being their hearts/cores (which probably can be made into power sources, the foci). This sounds like an unrelated disjointed ramble sry but it’s relevant because of the end part:

Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast. A voice whispers:

"What the Evanuris in their greed could unleash would end us all. Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger. The People must rise before their false gods destroy them all."

Their greed was the mining for resources and power. What was unleashed and had to be sealed away is often theorized to be red lyrium and/or the Blight. In this reading red lyrium, and by association the Taint, is maybe something like the Titans’ defense mechanism against being hunted, struck down and mined by the Evanuris, or perhaps something like an immune response or a natural consequence of the action, like how when we as a species pollute the natural world this often comes back to bite us in the ass with disasterous consequences. And like the angry energy and elves collapsing caverns in that passage, there’s also the “terrible presence” the Arcane Warrior’s soul in DAO remembers.

Given all this stuff, as well as the prevalence of red lyrium in the DA4 marketing thus far and apparent prevalence in its plot, its continued spread, the Titan/dwarfy beats touched on and set up in Descent (self-explanatory) and continued in Trespasser (the ‘death of a Titan’ mural etc), the [possible] corrupted beating Titan heart, the danger corrupted awakened Titans could undoubtedly pose to Thedas, and the theory that Solas is trying to prevent some cataclysm befalling Thedas and believes that he has to do this to save the world and that he’s running out of time, I think I lean towards the Whispers being to do with the Titans, specifically ‘red lyrium/corrupted/Blighted Titans’. Here I also wanna point out the similarity between the Whispers and Codex Entry: The Profane:

We who are forgotten, remember, We clawed at rock until our fingers bled, We cried out for justice, but were unheard. Our children wept in hunger, And so we feasted upon the gods. Here we wait, in aeons of silence. We few, we profane.

—Found scrawled on a wall in the lost Revann Thaig by explorer Faruma Helmi, 5:10 Exalted. Unknown author.

- the Profane being Rock Wraiths, creatures who are believed to have once been dwarves, that wander the Deep Roads, corrupt and living an undying half-life, probably feeding on lyrium (Titans being somewhat akin to dwarven gods) as they go. What if Valta is what you get when a dwarf connects to a normal Titan, and a Rock Wraith is what happens when a dwarf connects to a corrupted/Blighted/red Titan? Side note: It’s iiiinteresting indeed, isn’t it, that the Profane were calling out for justice, given that justice is one of Mythal’s ‘domains’ and considering her prior involvement with Titans and the dwarves (“adjudicator and savior!”, Mythal and the urtok, “Once I was but a woman... crying out in the lonely darkness for justice” etc). 👀

The last thing I have to say on this topic is that it’s also possible that the Whispers are one of those things that the writers just cooked up and threw in there for kicks/flavor, because it sounds cool and mysterious, and in so-doing it’s written in such a way (a bit generic) that 1) fans reading it can speculate about it and link it to several different things and 2) down the line the devs could retroactively decide to give it a meaning, or retroactively change what it was in reference to. This was the case for Eleni Zinovia’s prophecy:

David Gaider said Eleni Zinovia’s prophecy doesn’t refer to Fen’Harel. He can’t remember who wrote it in there or what it refers to actually. It was most likely just intended as flavor and he was even a bit surprised by it, like “What is this?” There’s a lot of things like that in the games, not everything has a ~grand meaning~. Sometimes such small off-hand things are picked up on by fans and the writers then make it into something bigger and more meaningful after the fact. This is what happened with Sandal (all the fans being like “Ooh, what does it mean, what does it mean?” about him). It’s possible Eleni will be picked up on like that in the future, but at the time it didn’t mean anything really. A lot of the way these stories are put together is that they put a lot of questions into the world, scattering possible/potential plothooks, and they don’t necessarily know where they lead at the time, but in future games they could come back to them and come up with an interesting backstory. Sometimes they pick it up and sometimes it never gets answered or ever mentioned again (the Wardens taking some of the blood from those who didn’t survive their particular bout of Joinings and putting it in a vial to remember them is an example of one of these things). It’s pretty rare that you’d get a situation where something is mapped out from beginning to end. Sometimes we the players get a revelation as we play and we’re like “Omg!! This is all connected! They are masters!” and the writers are like “Yes, toootally… It was that way alllllll along. It certainly did NOT get decided three quarters of the way through development…” [source]

You know, like there are, as is evident from this post where we go through various possibilities, lots of different ominous mysterious groups of nefarious beings waiting and sleeping and lurking Ominously in this setting!

Not a particularly coherent answer I know but hopefully interesting for you to read. :) tl;dr I lean towards it being to do with the Titans, specifically red lyrium/corrupted/Blighted Titans.

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #bioware #solas #mj replies #video games #ahumblewoodcarver #cole #spirit boy #long post #longpost

[bedlamsbard]

Part two of the reluctant roommates AU concept!  A reminder that my concept writing is deliberately not titled, chaptered, or betaed and is generally low pressure writing.  (I think to some extent I burned myself out on the titled stuff, but that’s for another post.)

Previous: Part 1

About 8.2K below the break.

Please note that while I don’t generally do content advisories, this contains discussion of fairly severe (unnamed) depression and anxiety, as well as physical abuse (about the same as other Inquisitor!Kanan concepts).

*

Agent Syndulla’s fear made Kanan’s back teeth ache, leeching into his dreams and giving him a flurry of nightmares that he knew had to come from her, not from within himself.  He woke with a start and lay in the unfamiliar bunk with one arm thrown up over his eyes, feeling like a voyeur despite the fact that he hadn’t done it on purpose.  Dreams weren’t a reflection of reality by any means, but they often had more to do with it than most people wanted to believe.  From what he had seen in Agent Syndulla’s dreams, most of them had been drawn from her memory.  He wished he didn’t know that.

At least it made a change of pace from his usual nightmares.

Eventually he made himself get up, wincing as his recently broken ribs twinged with the movement. They were mostly healed now, but were still fragile and painful, liable to get broken again if he wasn’t careful for the next week or so.  With any luck, this particular assignment wouldn’t involve getting shot or stabbed or thrown off in any cliffs, though given the way the past decade had gone Kanan wasn’t sure he really believed in luck anymore.  He still felt as though he had used up whatever he had remaining to him getting away from the Hunter for however long that lasted.

He dressed slowly, careful of the ribs as well as the rest of his assortment of healing bruises, cuts, and other miscellaneous injuries.  Some were from the assignment where he had gotten his broken; some were the Hunter’s parting gift, since his master had been extremely displeased by the order that split them up for the foreseeable future and Kanan had taken the brunt of his ire.  He touched his tongue to what he thought was a loose tooth and winced at the confirmation, feeding the Force through it to reseat it in the gum.

He could sense the Agent Syndulla was awake now, her attention focused on something other than her fear.  Kanan delayed leaving his cabin again as long as he could, not wanting to disturb her, but eventually had to answer the call of the refresher.  He was washing his hands when he sensed her sudden realization that he was awake and the spike of terror that followed, and winced.  He was used to people being afraid of Inquisitors, but usually his master got the bulk of that kind of attention; when it was aimed at Kanan it tended to be mixed with an odd kind of pity and relief.  People in the Imperial service expected nonhuman Inquisitors; they didn’t expect human Inquisitors, especially one with the right accent and one who was so obviously subordinate – as well as other things – to a Pau’an. Service members looked at the Hunter and felt fear; they looked at Kanan and thought, thank the gods that isn’t me.  It shouldn’t have surprised him that a nonhuman officer would feel differently.

He splashed water on his face, running a finger along the line of his jaw and the new growth of beard there; he eyed it in the mirror and decided to leave it for now.  It was something he hadn’t had at the Crucible, anyway, and at the moment he felt rather desperate for anything to remind him he wasn’t just the Hunter’s Hound.

He ran his damp fingers through his hair, finger-combing it, then drew it back into a short tail at the back of his skull.  When he couldn’t think of anything else he could do to delay, he went back out into the corridor, and then up to the cockpit where he could sense her presence.

She jumped as the door slid open, having obviously not heard his approach, and Kanan flinched back, startled by her reaction.  They stared at each other for a few moments as her astromech grumbled threateningly at him, then Agent Syndulla dropped her gaze back to the datapad she was holding.

She was a beautiful woman, the kind of woman he would have tried to seduce back before the Hunter had dragged him to the Crucible and beaten the spirit out of him, and he thought he probably could have succeeded, too.  He was hardly about to try now; for one thing, she was clearly terrified of him, and for another, the idea of letting anyone else touch him after the past few years was agonizing.  Even a pretty girl.

He said, “Can I get you some caf, while I’m up?”

She gave him a wary look, then said hesitantly, “All right.”

“How do you take it?”

“Milk and sugar,” she said after a moment. “A lot of both.”

Kanan nodded to her in what he hoped was a friendly fashion – he wasn’t sure he knew how to do that anymore – and let the door slide shut between them as he stepped back.  He took his time making the caf, pouring equal amounts of milk and sugar into her cup, and enough sugar into his that the spoon nearly stood up.  He had started drinking caf while he was in the field with the Grand Army of the Republic a decade ago, and after the first time he had spat out his mouthful – to the uproarious laughter of Styles and Gray and Depa Billaba’s barely concealed amusement – any clone who had made it for him had sweetened it enough to be tolerable for his palate.  He’d never lost the taste for it that way.

He took both mugs back to the cockpit.  Agent Syndulla didn’t jump when he came in this time, but she had clearly been braced for his return.  She took the mug from him with polite murmured thanks but didn’t sit back in her chair, sitting with the balls of her feet pressed against the deck, as if bracing herself against the need to suddenly flee.  Kanan prudently took the seat furthest from her and only belatedly realized it was the one nearest both exits.  He could tell from her fast, sideways glance towards the door to the living quarters and the hatch to the hold that she knew it too.  The droid grumbled again, rolling so that he was placed defiantly between the two of them, then swiveled his dome to glare at Kanan.

 Agent Syndulla took a sip of her caf, looking a little wary at first, then surprised.  “I didn’t know it could taste like this,” she blurted out.

“I worked in a tapcaf once,” Kanan offered. “Some of it stuck.”

She looked badly startled by that response.

He could have told her that he hadn’t always been an Inquisitor, but he wasn’t in the mood for the kinds of questions that might inspire.  He sat back and drank his own caf instead; neither the caffeine nor the sugar would do much for him, since Force-users processed most kinds of stimulants too fast for them to have any meaningful effect, but the taste helped wake him up.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their caf, until Agent Syndulla finally settled herself, as if bracing for a fight, and said, “I’ve been looking at the files you sent me.”

Kanan raised his gaze to her.  She was, if nothing else, lovely to look at, but she wouldn’t have made it to the ISB or lasted this long if she was just a pretty face.  She clearly didn’t enjoy being under his scrutiny, though – most people weren’t when it came to Inquisitors – so after a moment he flicked his gaze slightly away from her.

“There’s an auction the day after we’re scheduled to arrive,” she went on, after a moment’s brief hesitation. “We could call in the local Imperial garrison for backup, but if the regulars could deal with this, then they would have done so by now.”

“This isn’t the sort of thing they’re really equipped to handle,” Kanan said.  If it had been, no one would have bothered to send an Inquisitor and an ISB agent to deal with it.  Though he had his suspicions about why the Whip had assigned it to him as his first solo assignment.  He was less certain about what it had to do with Agent Syndulla and didn’t have enough of an idea about the ISB’s internal politics to even begin to guess.

She nodded in response to his comment. “Depending what the situation is like, we might want them later, but Barzhun doesn’t have a large Imperial presence.  As far off the beaten path as it is, it’s not impossible that the local garrison has some sort of relationship with the black market there. It isn’t unheard of.”

And was usually the job of the ISB to deal with, though on occasion the Inquisition dealt with corrupt officials instead.  Kanan nodded. “What do you want to do?”

She looked a little surprised that he hadn’t just tried to give her an order.  Kanan said in explanation, “Most of my assignments have either interfaced directly with the local garrisons or been – ah, more direct. And my ma – I wasn’t the one who did any of the planning.”

He saw her lekku twitch slightly at the slip, but she didn’t ask about it.  Instead she braced her shoulders again and said, “Can you pass as a civilian?”

Kanan glanced down, giving the question due consideration because it had been a long time since he had been in a position where that was even an option and he wasn’t immediately certain of the answer.  “Yes,” he said eventually, “but I don’t have any civilian clothes.”

When she looked a little worried, he added, “I’ve got clothes that don’t have the Imperial seal on them.”  And there were plenty of civilians who only wore black or gray.  “You’ll have to lend me a blaster, though.”

She met his gaze for an instant. “Can you use one?”

“I wasn’t always an Inquisitor.”  He looked her over, this time with a more a critical eye than he had done before; past her prettiness she was muscled under her gray ISB field uniform, her holstered blaster a natural extension of both uniform and self.  He had also noticed earlier that her lekku signals were erratic, not quite explicable to anyone familiar with Twi’leks   “Can you pass as a civilian?”

“I’ve done it before.” She glanced down, clearly uncomfortable under his inspection. “Chopper too.”

“That I can believe,” Kanan said.

That startled something that was nearly a smile out of her, a quick flash of amusement that warmed the Force for no more than an instant as the astromech grumbled at them both. Then she dropped her gaze again. “The HoloNet posting on the darknet said that there would be a reception the night before the auction for potential bidders to review the items up for auction.  I assume that you’ll recognize what we’re looking for?”

 Kanan nodded. “I’ll know.” And a Twi’lek and a human together wouldn’t make anyone look twice at them, no matter how they played it.  Both were common species and common in company with each other.

Agent Syndulla looked at the chrono, then said, “We should be making planetfall in two hours and the reception is in six.”

“All right.”  He started to stand up, putting his hand out for her empty caf cup.

She handed it to him once she realized what the gesture meant, then hesitated, looking up at him. Kanan stopped rather than leave the way he had intended to.  “What is it?”

“I can’t call you ‘Inquisitor’ in the field,” she said, sounding uncomfortable. “Do you – do you have a name? That I can use, I mean?”

Kanan bit his lip. She didn’t know how loaded that question was, and he wasn’t about to answer her with “the Hound.”  Still, it took him a surprising amount of effort to say, “It’s Kanan.”

No one had called him that in almost four years.  Sometimes he was surprised that he could remember it at all.

Something about either his face or his voice must have made her realize the gravity of the confession. She said, her voice suddenly very shy, “Thank you.”  She hesitated, then said, “My name is Hera.”

He hadn’t been expecting that, and the surprise must have showed on his face.  She shifted uneasily in her seat, then looked away, embarrassed. “I’ve sent you the ISB files on the local garrison and government,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you had them.”

“I don’t.  Thank you.”  He looked back at her for a moment, putting personal name and surname together, and blurted out, “Syndulla is a clan name.”

Her eyes went wide. He felt her low-grade anxiety snap into sudden fear, jolted from its previous course onto a new path. “Yes,” she said eventually, small-voiced, and then, with a defensive edge, “There are thousands of Syndullas.”

“I’m sorry,” Kanan said; he could tell he had said something that he should have avoided.

She dropped her gaze, but it didn’t do anything to hide the unease juddering along the Force.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan said again, then fled before he said anything else stupid.

*

Hera knew from personal experience that she mostly just looked uncomfortable in civilian clothes, which wasn’t exactly something she could do anything about.  She suspected that if she had been human she could have attended the black market auction in an Imperial uniform, if not an ISB one, and not had anyone look twice at her, but a Twi’lek in uniform always got attention. At the moment she felt even more obvious in her plain dark spacer’s trousers and jacket, as if she was wearing a beacon or a sign that said “I’m an Imperial agent, ask me how.”

She snuck a sideways look at the Inquisitor, who was slouching in the co-pilot’s chair next to her. Hera didn’t like having him that close, but since they were working together she couldn’t exactly justify not letting him be there as long as he didn’t touch anything.  She supposed that he had to be able to fly, though she doubted he had ever flown a freighter like the Ghost before.  Basic piloting was required for officer candidates at the Imperial academy, but unless you were tapped for pilot training, the Naval Academy, or the ISB Academy, most officers never actually had to fly anything larger than a landspeeder or anything faster than a speeder bike.  She had no idea what Inquisitors learned or how they were trained.

Without his armor or his lightsaber he looked less like an Inquisitor than she had been worried about – less so than she still felt she looked like an Imperial agent, even dressed in all black.  He wore the DL-18 blaster pistol she had found for him – its grip was too big to be comfortable in her own hand, so she had thought it might work for him – and somehow managed to look as if he had been carrying a blaster for most of his life, not a lightsaber.

He straightened up as they entered atmosphere and entered one of the flight lanes on approach to the planet’s capital city.  If any of the other ships in the flight lane happened to glance into the Ghost’s cockpit, they would see a pilot and a copilot both apparently doing their jobs, though Hera hoped the Inquisitor didn’t actually touch anything.

“You can fly, can’t you?” she asked him reluctantly.

He flicked a glance at her. “Yes.”

“Freighters or just starfighters?”

“I’ve flown freighters,” he said after a moment. “Not recently, but I’ve done it.  Cargo freighters, mostly, short-haul – longer haul sometimes, but not as a regular thing.”

Hera turned to look at him in surprise, trusting Chopper not to let the Ghost veer off course.  The Inquisitor was stubbornly not looking at her, his gaze fixed on the viewport in front of him.  I wasn’t always an Inquisitor, he had said a few hours ago.  She had assumed that that meant he had been elsewhere in the Imperial service before he had been recruited by the Inquisition, though he wasn’t that much older than she was.  Well, people came to the Academy from all walks of life, especially those recruited by the flight academies, who could sometimes skip normal Academy training. Presumably the Inquisition operated similarly.

She didn’t have anything to say in response to him and he didn’t seem to expect one, so she turned her attention back to their flight path.  She set down in one of the spaceports in Kethun City, the planet’s capital, and had the Inquisitor transmit the docking fee while she and Chopper shut down the ship’s engines.

Hera eyed him again once they were outside the ship, standing in the small docking bay and trying not to frown at the drift of wind-blown dirt and yellowish pollen that coated the floor.  She sneezed involuntarily, her eyes watering, and dug into her pocket for the allergy tablets she had grabbed when she realized what season it was here.  She dry-swallowed them and hoped that on this occasion they wouldn’t make her sleepy, which they seemed to do at entirely random intervals rather than consistently.

In the thin light of the overcast sky that filtered down through the open hatch doors above them, the Inquisitor’s dark garments looked pale, nearly washed out.  Black didn’t suit him, especially in daylight.  Hera looked at him, sneezed again, then wiped at her streaming eyes and said, “We should probably get you more clothes.”

He flicked a wary glance at her, then relaxed slightly at whatever he saw on her face. “Is it that bad?”

“If we’re going to several days of receptions and auctions,” Hera said.  On some of her ops he would be unremarkable, but he would stand out amongst the kind of people who attended black market auctions, and not in a good way.

“All right,” he said, sounding more weary than anything else. “Let’s go find the market.”

*

Hera was startled at how much the addition of colors to his garments changed the Inquisitor’s appearance. He looked deeply uncomfortable, as though he knew he wasn’t supposed to be wearing anything other than black and gray, but his green shirt brought out color in his face and pale eyes and eased some of the hollows in his scarred cheeks.  Hera thought that he wouldn’t raise eyebrows or twitch tentacles in company now, or at least not for the reasons he would have done before.  He also looked younger, more vulnerable, less dangerous; she wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Hera hated paying any attention to her appearance other than making sure that her uniform was neat and that none of her caste markings were showing, but for this particular occasion she made sure that she was wearing something that at least suggested she had more money than the average spacer.  She didn’t even own any clothes that could pass muster as something a high-caste Twi’lek would wear, not that that was a distinction that would make much sense off Ryloth or outside the enclaves.  Maybe not even the enclaves, but Hera avoided them whenever possible and had no idea what went on there.  Being among other Twi’leks made her so nervous that it was often debilitating; she had almost failed her ISB Academy field trials for just that reason.

She left Chopper with the Ghost; even though this wasn’t her usual kind of op, she knew that in this setting an astromech droid might stand out – Chopper certainly had no talent for being unobtrusive.  She and the Inquisitor got their cloaks and the speeder bikes from the Ghost’s hold – while the city was small enough they could have walked, there was always the chance that they would need to make a quick getaway.  Hera felt a little better with the handles under her hands, anyway.

She watched the Inquisitor out of the corner of her eye as they sped down the road towards the site of the reception.  He handled his speeder with a light, delicate touch, less heavy-handed than a scout trooper – more like a starfighter pilot than anything else, but not a TIE pilot, she decided after a few minutes of silent observation.  That puzzled her, since privately owned starfighters were illegal except under very rare circumstances – not that you couldn’t make those circumstances come about with enough credits – and the vast majority of those available were TIE-variants.  He must have learned on one of the others, since she knew Inquisitors flew TIEs.  If he was aware of her attention, he didn’t show it.

They pulled up in front of a neon-lit nightclub, where they handed their speeder bikes over to a parking droid and received a claim token in exchange.  Hera tucked it away, bemused, and fell into step with the Inquisitor as they made their way to join the queue at the door.  The sound of pounding music from inside made her wince; she hated clubs and crowds alike.

The bouncer let both of them in after relieving them of their blasters, for which they both received claim tokens.  If the Inquisitor had his lightsaber on him, the scanner didn’t turn it up; Hera wasn’t certain whether he had brought it or not, and hadn’t been about to ask. Hopefully he wasn’t so trigger-happy as to pull it out without absolute necessity, but having never seen him in action Hera had absolutely no idea.

Once they were inside and past the initial crush of people at the door, Hera surveyed the wide dark room beyond with distaste; it was full of beings of various species dancing, drinking, and eating, with a stage set up at the far end and a band playing something that she supposed technically counted as music, assuming you had no taste.

She glanced at the Inquisitor to make sure he followed her, then edged around the dance floor, past several shadowed – and definitely occupied – nooks.  Hera fixed the instructions from the darknet posting in the front of her mind and hoped that the Inquisitor remembered them too.

After several minutes and a handful of propositions – to both of them, not just her, which was a refreshing change – they made it to the back of the club.  A back hallway led to the kitchens and some refreshers that Hera suspected were intended for the staff rather than the patrons, as well as a door with a keypad on the control next to it.  Hera punched in the code from the darknet, holding her breath until the door slid open, revealing descending stairs.  It slid shut again as the Inquisitor stepped in after her and the pounding music from the club vanished as cleanly as if it had been cut by a knife.  Hera let out her breath in relief.

She went down the stairs with the Inquisitor at her back and emerged into another room.  It was a little smaller than the dancefloor above them, but more brightly lit and with far fewer people.  There were still a good number of beings, but they were older than the club-goers and mostly more finely dressed.  A pair of Togruta lounge singers draped themselves over the top of some kind of big instrument being played by a Nautolan who struck keys with a number of small hammers held expertly between his fingers.

A serving droid came up to Hera and offered a tray with a selection of stemmed and un-stemmed glasses holding a variety of colored liquid.  “Drinks, madam, sir?  I have alcoholic or non-alcoholic as you prefer –”

“Non-alcoholic,” Hera said; she could tell she was in the mood where alcohol would make her paranoid and angry, even if she drank on the job, which she didn’t unless there was no choice.

“The same.”  The Inquisitor’s voice was soft.

The droid obligingly rotated the tray for Hera. “I have fruit juices, carbonated beverages, flavored waters from a variety of worlds –”

Hera accepted a glass of what she hoped was meiloorun juice – it was about the right color – and was gratified to find she was right when she tasted it.  The Inquisitor chose a glass apparently at random and took a perfunctory sip; she suspected he had taken it mostly to have something to do with his hands.

Once the droid had gone, she sipped her drink and looked around the room.  Another look revealed that there were a number of tall display cases placed at regular intervals; the beings gathered around them had obscured them from Hera’s initial observation.  She flicked a look at the Inquisitor to make sure that he had seen them too, then moved towards the nearest one.

The beings already there – a trio of Rodian males, an Ithorian couple, and a human of indeterminate gender – all glanced up at their approach, briefly registered their appearance, then went back to their conversation.  The male Ithorian moved aside so that Hera and the Inquisitor had a better look at the contents of the display case.

She heard the Inquisitor hiss softly through clenched teeth.  The sound made the Rodians twitch, looking over at him before apparently deciding it was an expression of interest rather than – whatever it was.  Hera glanced up at him worriedly, decided it was unlikely that he was going to snap and go on a murder spree – at least not in the next thirty seconds – and looked back at the case.

The contents were unremarkable, at least to her eyes – a set of four small sculptures of various near-human beings in long robes holding upraised lightsabers in different poses. They were made of some pale gray stone she didn’t recognize.

Hera was trying to figure out a discreet way to ask if this was what they were looking for when she realized that under the current circumstances, there was no real point in being discreet.  She looked at the Inquisitor and said, “Is that it?”

He nodded without saying anything, his expression grim.

They moved onto the next display case, which held more statues and a stained glass window propped up with a light behind it.  Hera glanced at the Inquisitor again and saw the tightness in his jaw; she didn’t bother asking this time, since his face was answer enough.

They rotated through several more display cases, all of which got the Inquisitor’s nod.  Now and then someone new would come down the stairs, but by and large the occupants ignored each other, except for a handful who all obviously knew and liked each other well enough to speak to one another. Hera supposed that there weren’t too many people in the galaxy who traded in Jedi relics and most of them were probably in this room with her; she wished she had dared come down with a recording device so that the ISB could match known names to faces.

The serving droid came up to them again to take their empty glasses – well, to take Hera’s empty glass; the Inquisitor had barely touched his, but handed it over anyway.  Hera accepted another glass of fruit juice and drifted over to the nearest case that they hadn’t inspected yet.

She felt the air change as the Inquisitor went absolutely still beside her.

Because she knew what he was, she looked at him first, not the contents of the case; some of the other occupants of the room had felt the shift as well and were looking around warily at each other or at the cases.

He was shaking so badly that she could hear his teeth chattering together, his stillness transmuted into fury that she could feel like a weight in the air.  Hera shot a look at the case to see what it was that had upset him so badly and saw a collection of innocuous-looking thin braids and strings of mismatched beads; they struck something in her memory, but she couldn’t remember what at the moment.  She set that aside to worry about later, hesitated for an instant, and grabbed the Inquisitor’s arm.

He flinched violently at her touch, his eyes gone suddenly wild with shock.  She could feel muscle beneath her palm, stiff as steel cording; as much as she wanted to she didn’t release him. “Calm down,” she said to him, pitching her voice low but not whispering. “Do you need some air?”

He didn’t look around, but she saw awareness bleed into his panicked eyes.  He shook his head slightly and Hera felt the pressure in the air lifting as he forced himself to something resembling calm, pulling his furious response back inside his own skin.  She could still feel him trembling beneath her hand.

She pushed her half-full glass of fruit juice into his other hand. “Drink that,” she said.

He hesitated, and she snapped, furious and embarrassed, “It’s not tainted just because a tailhead drank from it.”

He shot her a startled look and said, sounding genuinely baffled, “Why would you think I thought that?”

Hera stared back at him, so surprised by that reaction that she briefly forgot why she had handed him her drink. “Humans –” she started to say, then shook her head. “Just drink it.”

He drank it.

She kept her hand on his arm until he had stopped shaking, then released him, tucking her hands awkwardly into her pockets to have something to do with them.  When he had finished the glass, he stared at the display case again, then dragged his gaze away and went off to the next one, handing the empty glass off to the serving droid as he did.  Hera followed, hoping her fury wasn’t plain on her face.  The other guests veered away from him, though something about the way they did so made Hera think they didn’t know or understand why they were doing it.

The next case only held more art, to Hera’s relief.  The Inquisitor stared blankly at the delicately figured tiles as if he didn’t really see them, though Hera suspected he knew exactly what was on them and – going by his reactions so far – what they meant.

“I suppose some of these still have some juice in them,” a passing Quarren woman said in her watery voice, and laughed.  Hera saw the Inquisitor’s shoulders tense in response.

She stepped tentatively up beside him. “We’ve seen most of it,” she said. “We’ll be back for the auction tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “I need to see all of it.”  He shut his eyes tightly, clearly trying to calm himself down even though he was still badly upset.

Hera eyed him doubtfully. Looking at him now, it was hard to remember that he was in all likelihood one of the most dangerous beings Hera had ever met; all of that coiled threat that had been there only a few moments before was gone, replaced by real distress.

She recognized the expression abruptly.  She had seen it in the mirror, on one of the occasions when she had been back at the Academy and invited to some event or another at the home of a local potentate on Naboo.  He had been a collector – “of everything,” he had said while showing cadets around his estate.  He had looked at Hera as if he was considering collecting her too, but she had managed to avoid being in any proximity to him for most of the evening, and once the other cadets began drinking heavily she had made her excuses and left early, for which rudeness she had been roundly rebuked the next day. She had been looking at his displays – arranged in order of what he thought was most attractive, not in anything that made sense – when she had turned a corner and found herself looking at a kalikori.

It wasn’t a Syndulla one, not her family’s and not from any of the patrician Syndulla families; she had known that immediately.  She hadn’t recognized the clan, but kalikori were intimately personal to each family; no one would ever let it pass out of a family line except through marriage or adoption.  But there had been a lot of looting done during the Clone Wars, and more during the Imperial occupation.

Searching further through the collection and trying not to make it look as though she was doing so, Hera had found a lararium, the household shrine each family kept, and the little figures that represented the protective spirits of a Twi’lek family, the ancestral genius and the patron lares, both separated from the lararium and the kalikori alike and jumbled together on a shelf of other small statues that Hera hadn’t recognized.  She hadn’t thought, at that point, that she had much Twi’lek feeling left after four years in the Academy.  Apparently she had been wrong about that.

It was the same expression on the Inquisitor’s face now.

She raised her gaze to the Inquisitor again, keeping her voice low as she said, “Those braids in that case – they aren’t from the High Republic, are they?”

He shook his head a little, his face a mask of grief and fury fighting for calm.  Then he looked at her sharply, some of that starting to bleed into alarm.  Hera could guess why; she didn’t know much about Jedi, but she had known enough to ask. She met his pale gaze, resisting the urge to look away; she hated making eye contact with other people and there was something disorienting about him.

It was the Inquisitor who looked away.  He swallowed, his throat working, and looked back at the tiles in the case in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually, then swallowed again.  “I need to see the rest of the items up for auction.”

Hera bit her lip. “I want to get a feel for the crowd,” she said to him. “Will you be all right on your own for a few minutes?  I don’t think we need to stay long.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said a little distantly. “I was surprised.  It won’t happen again.”

“All right,” Hera said. She stepped away from him, hoping that he actually could behave himself if left to his own devices.  It was balanced against her own nervousness about interacting with other people; she wasn’t particularly worried about being recognized as an Imperial agent, since in her experience no one ever looked at a young Twi’lek woman and came to the conclusion she was an ISB officer, usually including other members of the service, often including times when she was in uniform.  Hera was a decent field agent, but she knew that she hadn’t exactly lived up to Agent Beneke’s desires for her, which was how she had gotten this assignment with the Inquisitor in the first place.

She got another drink from the serving droid, this one a fermented fruit juice with some bubbles in it that looked alcoholic at a glance but wasn’t, and settled her shoulders before she went back to the case with the figurines in it, which had a small group of people gathered around it.  She lingered on the edge of the group, drinking her juice and listening in on the conversation – a trio of scholars debating the authenticity of the figurines, apparently.  After a few minutes of that she drifted away to another case, which held what looked like ornaments.  She glanced up to track the Inquisitor’s location in the room and saw him steadily working his way through the remaining cases, his mood like a thundercloud keeping people away from him.

“Lovely, aren’t they?”

Hera turned, pasting a polite smile on her lips, and saw a thin, white-bearded Pantoran male standing beside her.  “It’s very intricate work,” she said.

He smiled with as much appreciation as if he had been the creator rather than some long-dead Jedi. “Mirialan,” he said, indicating a pair of round belt buckles propped up on display. “Do you see the floral work around the rims and the eclipsed suns at the centers? Variations on those themes have recurred amongst Mirialan Jedi for centuries – millennia, perhaps, though the older examples are disputed.  They stem from an old Force cult on Mirial, one that hasn’t been active since before Mirial joined the Republic.  We know nothing about that cult, not even its name; it no longer has any worshipers on Mirial, but until a decade ago there were still elements of it amongst the Jedi.”

He gestured to a collection of small coppery rings, each about the length of a knuckle and inscribed with knot-like decorations.  “Weequay hair ornaments – for their braids, yes?  You still see some Weequay wearing them today, but if you ever have the occasion to examine them closely, you’ll see that the finework is all different. That’s because Weequay Jedi had their own patterns that were used back on Sriluur before the Hutts conquered the world more than eight thousand years ago.  Another Force cult, perhaps.  When Weequay were first recruited into the Jedi Order, they took the symbols with them; you won’t see them on Sriluur or the other Weequay worlds today.”

“Eight thousand years is a long time,” Hera said, since she couldn’t think of anything else to say and it seemed like the point in which he expected a response.

“Perhaps longer.  The Hutts – especially in the days of the old Hutt Empire – prefer to destroy the records of their conquered worlds, so that those worlds might seem to begin with their coming.  It’s hard on historians.”  He sighed wistfully, then looked at her more closely.

Hera resisted the urge to double-check that her markings were covered, since he seemed like the sort of person who might know that caste markings were more than just decorative tattoos the way most non-Twi’leks thought.

When she didn’t say anything one way or another, he seemed to decide that she was interested and pointed at a quartet of ivory bangles inside the case.  Each one was a double-curve, small enough to fit around a near-human’s wrist, and incised with intricate patterns, some of which had been filled in with black, red, or gold, others of which were bare.  The ivory was yellowing with age.  Something about them was familiar and Hera frowned, trying to place them.

The Pantoran saw her expression and smiled, open and pleased rather than malicious. “Ryloth river hog tusks,” he said. “I can’t pronounce the name in Twi’leki –”

“Ruti’ara,” Hera said after a moment of thought. “From a region in the equatorial jungle.  They’re extinct now.”  She didn’t say that there was a set of similar bangles in her mother’s jewelry case back on Ryloth, a gift from Cham’s grandmother – then the clan head – when they had married; they had been passed down among the women of the family for a thousand years.

She looked back at the bangles in the case, now seeing the pattern of half-familiar clan markings amongst the carvings.  “Fenn,” she said slowly.  When the Pantoran blinked, she said, “The geometric patterns, there – in black. Those are Fenn clan markings. They’re a curial clan on Ryloth –” And had been in vendettas with the Syndullas no less than three dozen times over the past thousand years, including after the Curia’s ban two centuries earlier (which everyone on Ryloth had just taken as a strong recommendation for the first few decades), but who was counting.

“The clan is still extant?” the Pantoran asked, sounding a little disappointed.

Hera fought back family feeling she didn’t know she still had and resisted the urge to reply unfortunately.  Instead she said, “Last I heard, yes.  There was some scandal a few years ago, but they’re still around.”

“There is a clan that has died out, though, yes?”

Hera bit her lip. “There are a few, mostly smaller patrician clans.  You’re probably thinking about the Indahs.  They were a curial clan like the Fenns and the Sy – the Securas.  They were in a –”  She had to search for the word in Basic before going on. “– a vendetta, a blood feud, with the Fortunas.  That’s another curial clan.  The Fortunas tricked the curial family – the Indah Hid Indah – into agreeing to peace talks.  When the Indah Hid Indah and the heads of the patrician families in the clan were all at table for the banquet, the Fortunas slaughtered them.  Then they hunted down all of the other Indah patricians and killed them too, not to mention most of the plebeians.  When news got out, the Republic Senate wanted the Jedi to come in and arbitrate it, but the Curia – that’s the governing body on Ryloth – wouldn’t let their ships land.  They sent the Fortuna – the clan head, I mean – into the Bright Lands and ostracized most of the patrician family heads, and banned the Fortunas from being able to vote in the Curia for twenty years.  They also banned the vendetta, so there aren’t supposed to be blood feuds anymore. The only Indah patricians who survived were the ones who had married into other clans cum manu, and when you do that you give up your clan rights – they weren’t legally Indahs anymore, I mean, they were legally members of their spouse’s clans.  I know at least one petitioned to revoke her marriage, but there weren’t enough Indahs left for there to still be a clan.  And the Fortunas had destroyed their lararia and kalikori, burned the shrines. That’s supposed to destroy the clan’s connection to their ancestors and the genii – the – the earth-gods, I suppose is the closest thing you can say in Basic.  Since the Indah Hid Indah were a curial clan, they traced their line in direct descent from one of the gods – I think it might have been the –”  She fumbled for the Basic again, aware that her Ryloth accent was starting to come out very strongly, and if anyone knew enough to recognize it, that it was the purest high-caste Twi’leki.  “The Son of Sands.  There are other curial clans descended from the Son of Sands too but the Indah Hid Indah were very, very old, as old as – the Fenns.”

She had almost said “as old as the Syndulla Tann Syndulla.”  One of the surviving Indahs had actually been married to the Syndulla prime heir at the time, and had almost succeeded in convincing her and her twin brother to declare vendetta against the Fortunas themselves before the Syndulla clan head had gotten wind of it and stopped them.

“This was a long time ago?” asked the Pantoran.

“Not really,” Hera admitted. “About two hundred years.”  She tensed in expectation of a comment about how barbaric Twi’leks were, never mind that there were humans on plenty of worlds who still practiced various forms of blood feud, but none came.

“An old custom?” the Pantoran said instead.

“Um, yes,” Hera said. She was too embarrassed about having given a speech about the Hid Indah Massacre to offer up that the vendetta went back to the days of the gods, when the children of the Mother of Mountains had torn Ryloth apart in war with each other after the Son of Sands had murdered his sister’s lover.  It was why so much of the planet was desert, except for the equatorial jungle; their oldest records showed that millennia earlier much more of the planet had been jungle and there had still been enough ocean to separate the continents.  “What does that have to do with the ruti’ara tusks?”

“Ah.  Nothing.”  The Pantoran beamed at the case again.

Hera let out her breath through her teeth, annoyed.  She could feel heat in her cheeks, traveling up to her ear-cones and the base of her lekku.

“The marvelous thing about the Jedi is that they were so very, very old and had members from all over the galaxy, all kinds of species, so customs, traditions, peoples – animals, even – were preserved within them like insects in amber, passed down from master to apprentice over so many generations few sentient minds can really comprehend them.  They provide a window into a past where there are no other windows – no holograms, no texts, no oral memories.  And yet that past was preserved amongst the Jedi – it was still a living thing.  The Empire might have you believe that the Jedi stole children from thousands of worlds, stripped them of their identities, their cultures, their species, and made them all Jedi and nothing else, but if that was true, then how would there be any of this?”  He swept an arm around at the room and its display cases.  “When I was a very young, there were pirates preying on my family’s station, and a Jedi came to deal with them – a Togruta woman, very beautiful.  She wore the akul teeth headdress of a Togruta warrior, an animal which those among the Togruta who wish to prove their strength hunt and kill.  Why would she do that if she was not Togruta as much as Jedi?”

He looked back at the case and sighed. “Many of those here are here for the money, or are enthusiasts for the forbidden – some for the Jedi.  Others enjoy beautiful things, the rarer the better.”  He flicked a glance at the Quarren who had passed Hera earlier, his expression disapproving.  “When they were destroyed, it was not merely the Jedi who were lost, but a thousand others who were preserved only amongst the Jedi.”

“Most of the people on those worlds pay attention to their own history,” Hera said hesitantly.

“Ah.  Yes.  Some do. Others would, but their histories were stripped from them – the Hutts, as I said.  The Empire, more recently.  Even the Republic, in its way, as you said yourself.”

Hera blinked. “Did I?”

“When you said that your people would not allow the Republic to take over the punishment of its wrongdoers,” the Pantoran explained patiently. “Others were not so stubborn; at other points, the Republic would not have cared about their wishes.”

“They’re not –”  my people, she wanted to finish, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“But sometimes history is just lost,” he went on sadly. “Not maliciously or in war or natural disaster, it just…falls out of use, and then out of memory, and if there are traces at all, then they are traces we cannot recognize.  By the time one realizes it is gone, it is just not there to find.”

Hera bit her lip.

“You make it sound as if the Jedi are only the composite of others, with nothing of o – of their own,” the Inquisitor said quietly from behind Hera.

She almost jumped out of her skin.  She hadn’t heard him approach, and from the way the Pantoran flinched he hadn’t noted the Inquisitor’s arrival either.

“No – no, of course not,” he said, when he had gotten control of himself. “But my – my interests have always lain elsewhere.  There are so many who are interested in the Jedi and only the Jedi for what they themselves are, and not all that they represent.”

“I see,” the Inquisitor said gravely.  He sounded more amused than anything else, which Hera decided to cautiously take as a good sign.

Hera half turned so that she could watch him and the Pantoran at the same time.  He was looking at the case, not at the Pantoran, his gaze moving over the beautiful objects inside.  She realized abruptly that he had used the present tense, not the past.  And that he had started to say “our,” not “their.”

“You are an enthusiast of the Jedi, perhaps?” the Pantoran said, recovering.

Hera tensed again, but the Inquisitor just raised an eyebrow. “I have an interest.”

The Pantoran turned to Hera again.  “And you, you are a student of history, I see?”

The Imperial Academy’s version of history was “things were terrible until the Emperor took control” but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Just a few things,” she said instead. “But I enjoyed our conversation,” she added, because she did know how to be polite; not something she had learned from the Empire.  She took a chance and laid her hand on the Inquisitor’s arm, suspecting that he was probably aware of her brief hesitation before she made contact. “I think we’ve seen what we came here to see,” she told him.

He was tense under her palm, giving her the impression that he didn’t like to be touched any more than she did.  None of it showed in his face as he glanced down towards her and nodded.

“I will see you tomorrow evening, perhaps,” the Pantoran said.

“Perhaps,” Hera agreed, and hoped a little vaguely that she wouldn’t have to arrest him.

She released the Inquisitor as soon as they turned to walk away.  They were silent all the way up the stairs into the noisy, crowded club, as they retrieved their speeder bikes, and on the ride back to the Ghost, the wind from their passage whipping Hera’s lekku back behind her.

Hera was stowing her bike and trying to decide whether the appropriate thing to do in this situation would be to debrief the evening when the Inquisitor said, very tiredly, “I’ll see you in the morning,” and vanished up the ladder.  A few moments later she heard his cabin door slide open and shut again.

“Well,” she said to Chopper, who had come down to make sure she was all right. “That was interesting.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #reluctant roommates au tag #as always comments are appreciated #I'm trying for a bit more plottiness with this concept

[curiosityunsated]

In Pursuit of the Scholarly

Triggers: Racism against elves. If there’s anything else you feel should be mentioned, please let me know. No violence included.

Not beta read, cross posted on AO3. Also, I have no idea of the Sindarin here is accurate- I used a translator I found on Google. Don’t @ me.

——

Prince Kíli, second in line for the throne of Erebor, was incandescently angry.

The Council sat and watched, though most did not really listen, as the Prince railed at them and yelled counter arguments and indignity. Most of the council, save for a very select few outside of the presence of the royal family, were not swayed by the show of temper. Some, in fact, looked rather smug (though those were typically not well liked in the Lonely Mountain).

The King, the King’s Consort, the Princess Royal, Prince Fíli, and Her Ladyship Tauriel sat in tense silence as their kinsman slowly ran out of steam. Tirade ended, he stared at the Council and waited.

Kern, who had held his seat on the Council even prior to the Desolation, was barely able to swallow his smirk before he responded.

“Be that as it may, Your Highness, Khuzdul is our sacred language, and it must be... protected. It is... understandable,” it looked as though the word hurt to say, “that you would wish to share it with your wife. But I’m afraid that we cannot agree with your insistence to allow Princess Thiliriel to take Khuzdul lessons.”

The young father bristled, and for a brief moment the Council braced for another round of ire. But it wasn’t the Prince Kíli who spoke, but Prince Fíli.

“Surely you see how difficult it would be to keep Thiliriel from learning Khuzdul completely, my Lords, as she lives in a Dwarven city. Some would say restricting her education in this way was born of ill will directed at the race of her forebears.” He pointed out, politely. Kern’s eyes narrowed.

“We can’t control the opinions of the uninformed, your highness,” he allowed, “and it is understood that there has been, and will be, some unfortunate transference. But perhaps this may be managed if the Royal Family would consider limiting their use of Khuzdul while in the company of the young Princess?” His polite tone matched Fíli’s syllable for syllable.

The Royal Family, save Lady Tauriel, stiffened as one. Prince Fíli’s eyes glinted at the response.

“We are approaching the Noonday bell. Perhaps this is a matter best settled another time.” Balin tried to intervene, and another dwarf would have accepted it for the diffusion that it was. The majority of the Council was prepared to do so, had Kern not spoken.

“I believe we’ve made our decision clear, Lord Balin, but thank you for the reminder. A pleasant day, my Lords.”

And an infuriated Prince Kíli was storming out of the chamber after Kern’s final words, gently tugging Lady Tauriel with him, even before the King had officially ended the meeting.

——

It started with Prince Fíli. This, perhaps, should not have surprised the Council as it had.

The Prince had been spotted, overheard really, in a training ring with the young Princess. That itself wasn’t unusual; the heir had made it routine to ‘train’ with his niece a few times a week, and nearly all the dwarrow who frequented the upper training halls had seen the two playing rambunctiously under guise of hand to hand combat. If this time usually came just before the Princess’ bedtime, well, no one could say Prince Fíli wasn’t efficient.

As far as the Council could gather, the incident happened just before the Royals had left for the evening. The Prince had been crouched on the ground, beckoning the little one forward and playfully taunting her. She had responded in kind, rushing at her uncle and jumping at him with a battle cry that, according to multiple reports, was very cute. He had taken her momentum and propelled himself backwards, landing flat on his back. And then, he had exclaimed:

“Cin got nin! Im’m dad!”

Apparently no one had clearly heard what the little one had said, but the Prince had smiled and kissed her forehead, replying:

“Cin did eithel, lend emel.”

Of course the Prince knew multiple dialects of elvish- the entire royal family did- but only so that they could interact with Elvish representatives without fear of coercion! It was unheard of for it to be spoken so- so- familiarly within an everyday setting! Especially in a Dwarven stronghold such as Erebor! Even Lady Tauriel chose to speak mostly Westron in the presence of the mountain’s public eye. It had left the Council feeling slightly wrong-footed, but perhaps it had been a one-time occurrence. A bit of practice, perhaps, so the Prince wouldn’t get rusty.

It was not a one-time occurrence. Only days later, King Consort Baggins was overheard in the library casually reading aloud to Princess Thiliriel in Sindarin... though the book itself was Westron! The Head Librarian hadn’t even asked him to lower his voice- though as the Head Librarian was the young Ori, son of Lori, that wasn’t surprising in the least. The former Company of Thorin Oakenshield was very close, even now.

Lord Ori had even pointed out a few words and asked for the translation in his own book, an act which garnered stares of its own.

The next day, Prince Kíli and Lady Tauriel gathered stares of their own as they strolled through the market, Princess Thiliriel between them, speaking exclusively in Sindarin! In the middle of the Marketplace! At one point, one scout reported, the Prince had swung his daughter around in his arms, exclaiming something in the lyrical language he hadn’t understood. It must have been humorous, though, because both Mother and Daughter had burst into giggles.

But the final straw, really, had happened in the Council’s very chambers during a meeting. Princess Dís, during a moment between agenda topics, had turned to her brother and quite clearly addressed him in Sindarin. And the King, with no hesitation, replied in Sindarin.

The entire room went silent, and many stared. Only Prince Fíli and Lord Balin continued perusing the paperwork for the next order of business as though nothing was amiss.

“Is everything alright, My Lords?” The King asked dryly, noticing the attention.

“It is just... well, you see...” Lord Tírn stumbled as the King turned his attention to him, and Kern interrupted.

“It isn’t like you to speak Elvish when there aren’t any Elves around, Your Majesty.” He interjected, and Thorin raised an eyebrow coldly.

“And you would know me well enough to make such an observation?” The Council watched as Kern blanched and then flushed.

“We’ve been hearing quite a lot of Elvish around the Mountain these days, Your Majesty.” He didn’t answer The King’s pointed question.

“Sindarin, Lord Kern. Not ‘Elvish’. There are multiple dialects. And since my granddaughter has been forbidden from learning her Father’s sacred tongue, we have decided to use her Mother’s instead.” Princess Dís replied, and if Thorin was cold then his sister’s tone was frozen solid. The Council felt a rush of fear run down their spines.

“Yes. In fact, I’ve been considering asking Prince Legolas to visit soon- Lady Tauriel is both a working ‘dam and a mother, and I don’t want to take more of her time but there are a few grammar questions I have that Lord Bilbo can’t seem to explain.” The Prince’s tone could be described as bland, even self-musing, but the flash of steel in his eye as he glanced at Kern.

“I- I suppose it would be good for our relations with Mirkwood for the Prince to visit-“ the Councillor tried, and was interrupted.

“Perhaps we should revisit the idea of an Elvish Ambassadorship, as a permanent position in the Court.” The King stated, and Kern turned an ugly puce color.

“Elves living in Erebor!?” He erupted, evidently at the end of his rope.

“My Brother’s Wife is an Elf. I would be very careful how you finish that thought, Lord Kern.” Prince Fíli said lowly, and unsheathed a knife to spin, point down, on the table with pointed intent.

“My granddaughter is part Elf. I will not hear any protest about her kin coming to stay, Councillor. Especially if you hope to keep your seat.” Princess Dís did not need to produce a weapon to aid her threat.

“I meant no disrespect, your Highnesses. I humbly apologize.”

“It seems to me, Lord Kern,” the King began, “that you have invited disrespect with your words and your conduct. Barring my grand niece from learning her Maker’s tongue- don’t look at me like that, I know who’s voice persuaded the rest of Council against it- and now making remarks of such disgust against the lineage of an heir of the line of Durin?” King Thorin trailed off, hard stare never wavering.

Kern, who had already been thrown off kilter by the Royal Family’s seemingly overnight adoption of Sindarin, floundered under such a direct accusal.

“I- Your Majesty, never-“

“In fact,” the King continued, and the Council watched the two with bated breath, “I have been in talks with some of our oldest, most practiced curates and they all agree. The right to learn Khuzdul is a matter of religion, not of politics.”

Kern turned that fetching shade of puce again.

“So while it remains a matter of courtesy for Prince Kíli and Lady Tauriel to inform the assembled Council of their plans for Princess Thiliriel’s education, they are in no way obliged to do more than consider the Council’s opinions on this particular aspect.” The King finished, and it was Princess Dís’ turn to smirk as she, and the rest of the Council, watched the pompous windbag known as Kern to puff up, process, deflate, and stiffly nod.

“Thank you, your Majesty, for reminding the Council of the boundaries of our reach. I am... sure this will not be forgotten.” The words came as easily as blood from a rock, and Kern ground his teeth as though trying to break ore from stone as he spoke.

“Oh, and Lord Kern?” King Thorin said, already looking at the papers for the next topic, and not sparing a glance for the Council.

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“I’d like for you to tell his Highness and Lady Tauriel the good news. Directly after the Council Meeting concludes. We wouldn’t want to delay the Princess’ education any longer.”

Fíli’s smile could only be described as wolfishly sharp, and he clearly inherited it from his mother.

——

Elvish translations:

Cin got nin! Im’m dad! : you got me! I’m down!

Cin did eithel, lend emel. : You did well, sweet heart.

#the hobbit #fili #kili #bilbo baggins #fanfic #thorin oakenshield #Dís #original child character #Kiliel #injustice #elvish racism

[jmnjmnjmn]

Eternal beings | Chapter 1

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Key words: supernatural, vampire.

Word count: less than 3,000

Warnings: swearing,  sadness, jealousy, mentions of murder

Inspo board

Masterlist

In the spirit of Halloween I decided to write a whole series about Vampire!Jungkook. I know should’ve been posting it throughout October and not on Halloween... Bare with me okay? There’s more to come.

Walking through the city at two in the morning isn’t as cute and mysterious as it may seem. The streets are empty and dark despite the street lights being on and every noise sounds like a forecast for something dangerous, especially when you're a girl walking home from work by yourself. You recently took up night shifts at the convenience store you were working at part time. Your boss was more than happy when you announced to her that you can work nights for half of the week. It was always hard to find people for those hours. With all of your classes at college being online this semester you had more time to work and earn money for rent and other things. You actually liked working at night, because there weren’t many customers then if any at all, so you had freedom to spend most of your time at work reading magazines, studying or sitting on your laptop. The only drawback of working at that time though was the walk home.

You pulled the steel grating over the door and locked it slowly in the faint light of the neon sign above the door. Before walking away you pulled on the padlock to make sure it’s definitely locked right. When you didn’t feel it budge under your fingers you turned on your heel and started speed walking home. Your apartment wasn’t further than twenty five minutes away from the shop and though it felt like a short stroll during the day at night it almost always seemed like a pilgrimage. “Fortunately for me-” You thought. “-the summer is in full swing and the nights aren’t so cold anymore.” You shivered at the thought of walking home in winter time. On the other hand the increase in temperature caused all sorts of shady people to come from their homes and clubs out onto the streets. For example you already walked past more than a dozen of drug deals and were cat called by drunk men leaving the bars so many times you couldn’t count anymore. And that’s only this summer season.

Despite all those unpleasantries you kept working and getting the money you desperately needed to pay the rent for your small flat and lead a decent life in the city. And because of those same unpleasantries you came up with a special system of walking home from work that made you a tad bit more comfortable and it went like this. First: leave the shop with earbuds in your ears, but no music playing, walk with big strides and your head up to notice any potential danger and stay alert no matter how tired you are. Second: walk only the bigger streets with street lamps and businesses on them, preferably ones that are open at night so there’s always someone to run to for help. That part wasn’t too hard since you worked right in the center of the city and lived close by. You smiled to yourself, thinking of the deal you cut on your current apartment. You were subletting from one of your college friends who left to study abroad for a year. He didn’t want to break the lease on his place and not have something to come back to when he finishes his studies, especially since his apartment was in such a perfect location for a young student. That led him to looking around for someone to sublet to and… Tadah! You got a beautifully furnished, one bedroom apartment right in the city for a price that was unheard of in that area. Only downside was that you had to vacate the place in less than ten months.

A loud sudden sound pulled you out of your thoughts, but what followed made your heart skip a beat. A sound so faint it was barely hearable, but clear enough to make you stop in your tracks.

“Please, n-no.” The voice definitely belonged to a male. It sounded as if its owner was struggling to breath out the words. You heard him inhale sharply and ask again. “P-lease, stop.” His begging words sent a shiver down your spine. Something really bad was happening around that corner. “N-no.” You felt your shoulders tense up. You didn’t want to get involved with something dangerous, but you couldn’t just walk by a possible assault or maybe something worse. You tightened your grip on your bag and started to walk back quietly. Your instincts started to kick in slowly as you made the difficult choice between the two possible options. Fight or flight.  “Flight.” You  thought to yourself. “From a safe place I will call the police. I promise.” You sweared in your head to the man around the corner.

“Stop.” Said a second voice also belonging to a man by the pitch of it.

“Please.” The first man said. “Please.” He repeated now with more strength in his voice. Within a second you heard shuffling indicating a fight broke out between the pleading man and his attacker. You started pressing in the police number on your phone and started moving faster as the noises started getting louder and closer to the alleyways exit. The very same exit from which you were trying to back away from.

“I told you to stop.” The second man repeated himself. Right when you were just about to turn the corner and start running to safety with the police on the phone two men fell to the ground in front of the alleyways exit. Both of them in disheveled suits. The older one, which you assumed was the previously heard beggar, was clearly losing to the other man. You made your last step back and tried to turn to the side to start running when you heard the losing man speak. 

“Help me.” He  croaked looking in your direction and blowing your already weak cover. Standing in the shadowy street you thought he wouldn’t be able to see you backing away, but he did and his attacker now saw you as well. “H-elp.” He tried to repeat his statement, but the other man pushed him to the ground getting rid of the bits of air in his lungs. “What should I do?” You asked yourself. The nerve connections in your brain made a snap judgment for you. The scene you had before you looked just as frightening as comical. What even was this situation? Two well dressed men, who you would think are well behaved and well above resulting in physical fights if you saw them in the shop you were working at, were playing some murderous tug of war right in front of you in the middle of the night. As you realised the oddity of the situation it stopped being so scary all of a sudden. “They’re just drunk office rats fighting in an alley.” You thought to yourself but didn’t put your phone back down in case things escalated to something more dangerous. You continued to back away when the standing man spoke.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself?” He asked in an authoritative tone, but you weren’t going to listen. You turned around and made a step to your left wanting to reach the main road again and get away from this bull. “Stop.” He said tiredly. You turned the corner and started to run before he could say or do anything more to you. You pressed the green button on your phone screen calling the police.

“112.” Said a female operator on the other side of the phone after just a short moment. “Hello. There’s a fight going on near my house. Two men. It looked pretty bad.” You said nervously.

-

You woke up the next morning around noon. Having already forgotten the events of last night you got ready for work. You were covering a shift in the afternoon at the shop for your co-worker Jimin. He worked there a couple of months longer than you, showed you the ropes on your first day and since you got along pretty well you became work friends. You decided not to eat breakfast at home and just grab something at the shop. Just like that within twenty minutes of you waking up you were out the door. 

The mid day was warm but you had your jacket in the bag ready to be put on in the late hours of the night when you’ll be walking home. You turned the corner to get to the main street and have a stroll to work in the sun when you were met with a hoard of policemen blocking the sidewalk. You crossed the road and took a different route than usual, not bothering to think twice about the reason the police were where they were right now.

As you entered the shop you noticed Jimin watching television on the small screen hanging over the cigarette shelf. The bell over the door rang when you closed it and Jimin instantly turned his head towards you, greeting you with a warm smile as you walked towards him.

“Great to finally see you.” He said, taking off his name tag.

“You’re only happy to see me today, because I’m relieving you of your shift.” You joked and he laughed quietly. 

“Only today.” He said smiling and let you behind the counter. “I have to run. Yoongi’s probably already waiting for me.” He waved you goodbye, grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“Go. Have fun.” You called after him smiling.

You turned the volume down on the TV and cranked it up on the ancient radio on the counter. Jimin always watches TV at work while you prefer listening to music and shuffling through magazines or newspapers. You pinned your name tag on and started looking for a good read as a bell rang signaling an arrival of a customer. You picked a fitness magazine and leaned on the shelves behind you and started reading about “the benefits of doing squats”. After a couple of minutes the customer who earlier entered the shop came to the counter with his pickings. You scanned the last item when he asked you to turn on the volume on the TV. You pushed the “+” button on the remote and was about to tell the man the amount he has to pay for the items when you heard the speaker's voice on TV describe something horrible. 

“... A gruesome murder. Victim: a man in his thirties, possibly a nearby office worker. His exact identity is still being confirmed by the police.”

“Horrible.” Said the customer. “And so close by. Who would do such a thing?” He asked, sounding truly concerned.

“Twelve thirty, sir.” You said politely. That’s exactly why you didn’t like watching TV at work. This particular television set was about twenty years old and had an antenna so crooked it played only three channels, two of them being news. There was no day there wouldn’t be bad news. A natural distaster, an economic crash, a new riot or war somewhere in the world or, like today, a murder. The man scanned his card and left with his things. As the door was closing behind him you reached for the remote to mute the TV again.

“Estimated time of the murder is thirty minutes after two in the morning.” Said the speaker and you quickly put two and two together. Glancing at the screen you reached your shaky hand for your phone and started searching the internet for more information on the event. A cold shiver went down your whole body when you read an article header stating the place where the “gruesom murder” took place. It was that alleway near your building. You dialed your friend Taehyung’s number still looking at the screen, waiting for more details to be described by the news anchors.

“The number you are calling is unavailable.” You heard an automated message and hung up the phone. “What the hell do I do now?” You whispered to yourself. “I called the police last night and described the situation as well as I could.” You thought. “It’s not my fault they didn’t intervene… Or did so too late.” You explained to yourself. “Still, shouldn’t they have my number saved somehow? And shouldn’t they be calling me up right now for questioning? I was there after all.” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that you could have seen a murderer last night. “Maybe it wasn’t them.” You started wandering. “Maybe they left right after they saw me and someone else did… That.” Another announcement by the news anchors pulled you out of this train of thought. “Police just confirmed the identity of the victim. Thirty five year old (Victim’s name), an office manager at (Company’s name) was brutally murdered last night on Third.” You covered your mouth with your free hand when the picture of the victim popped up on the screen. It was the man from last night, the one that lost the fight. “His body was found by a passerby over four hours after the murder took place.”

“Impossible.” You breathed out. “I called the police right around two. How is it that they didn’t send anyone to check on the situation?” You thought and dialled Taehyung’s number again.

“The number you are calling is unavailable.”

“Shit.” You hissed. You really wanted to talk to a friend right now and figure out what to do. Taehyung was your closest friend right now, you knew each other from highschool and hung out all through your first years of college to this day. You dialed the police number once again in the last twelve hours.

#bts #bangtan #bangta boys #bts!au #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts vampire #vampire #vampire!au #jk!vampire #jungkook!vampire #vampire!jungkook #vampire!jk #jungkook #jeon jungkook #scenario #au #scenarios #supernatural #fanfic #fanfiction #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #eternal beings #taehyung #kim taehyung #v #bts v #bts tae #bts taehyung