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eydi-andrius · 10 months

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Clear Lilac Eyes (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

summary: Aemond had bowed and prayed, something he had never done before no matter how hard his life had been.

cw/tw: fluff, a bit of angst and hurt, aemond is a good husband, a dad and a king, childbirth, blood, implied war, patriarchy, threats, mentions of violence, threats and tags are not exhausted. Let me know if I miss anything

a/n: Wrote this as an alternate ending for Don't Get Sad, Get Even but I thought it was too positive so I wrote it as a standalone.

Also, I posted this as a celebration as my blog turned THREE (3) today! YAY! 🎉🥳 Mannnnn, I used to be a lurker on this app then I started craving for my whatifs then wrote them. To celebrate, I will post for all the characters I have written so far and it includes this one. And maybe I have something in store for the others. 👀 A much awaited comeback hehehehehe if you have any request, you may send me an ask! 🥰 I may write them. 👀 Anyway, without further ado, ENJOY!

Likes and reblogs are welcome!

💚

There was an air of uneasiness that chokes out the life of those who breathe it in. The flicker of fire from the torches and the quiet of the hallways made an eerie atmosphere in the Red Keep.

The shadows, the footfalls and the swish of clothings intensifies the feeling of distress in every mortal present at the birth of the King's child.

This was an important event for the realm as this child may become the first heir to this new era of dragons.

All the dragon-blood and silver-haired were almost wiped during the dance of dragons which happened for only a year.

Except for one.

With his wit and strategy, Aemond Targaryen was able to win the war and was crowned king.

He was vicious and no one could deny him of his throne. Once the swords were down and the white flags were raised, all heads bowed to him.

However, right now, the King's head was bowed to only one, the Mother. The Goddess of Birth.

While the realm was weary for his heir, he was scared to lose the love of his life.

She had always expressed her fear of giving birth. When they were young, she had said to him that if she had a choice, she would rather not give birth. During that time, he thought it was silly. No one can run from their purpose. Especially her, whose sole purpose was to continue her family's lineage. She was a noble and a girl. There was no way for her to continue life without giving birth.

Another blood curdling scream broke from her inside the room. It was loud. Terrifyingly loud. His gut twisted in fear. He had promised her not to enter the chambers while she gives birth but something was egging him on to force his way inside and to stay by her side.

The room was filled with the familiar sweet metallic scent of blood. He had grown accustomed to it on the battlefield and never once the sight repulsed him. However, the white sheets and the white clothes worn by the maester and midwives were all covered in blood. Her blood. There was too much blood around her. The sickening feeling swirling inside of him tore new fear as he rushed forward and watched her delicate face, pale and deathly. Her lips dry and her hands cold to the tips.

"My Lady wife, look at me, my dear. I beg of you " He watched her closely as her eyes fluttered softly at the sound of his voice. She looked at him and tried her best to give a smile but the look of it made him regret forcing her to go through the pain of giving birth. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him before it closed with a deep sigh. He squeezed her cold hands with worry - he prayed that the Mother will show his wife mercy, as she did to all the mothers who had gone through similar pain.

A tiny scream of life caught his attention. He looked behind him and there it was, his child. He never saw that she had finally given birth and was blinded with worry as he rushed in. His small bundle of joy was wrapped in the familiar green and gold linen his mother used for him when he was born. His pride and joy finally came and his heart was filled with unfamiliar warmth. He had never felt like this before.

Without removing his hand that held his wife, he asked the maester to help him place his little dragon on his free arm. The silver protruding hairs on his head had proven he was his child. He looks so small, so full of life as it cries and he shushes him. He had never felt more at ease as he was surrounded with his family. The family he chooses and who chooses him. His love for them runs deeply and he could never express how grateful he was for them.

"It is a girl." The sound of the maester's voice brought him back to where he was sitting and he looked at him. The maester's face did not hide his disappointment but he will forgive him for now.

A girl?

A smile broke through him and he apologized inside his head to his daughter as he called her wrong. With a gesture of love, he placed his nose on top of hers and his heart was full as he heard her stop crying and coo at him.

He was overfilled with happiness. It feels like nothing could go wrong.

However, his joy was short-lived when he felt his wife's hand loosen its grip to his. He had now realized her palm was colder, almost like ice. His head whipped in her direction and he saw the familiar feeling of impending death.

No. Please. Not her either.

The wrong feeling in his gut came back again and he ordered the maester to help his wife. They rushed forward and he stepped back as he cradled the child, who was now peacefully sleeping on his arm. She must have been tired as she forced her way out to this world. She was so innocent and pure that she did not realize the terror that was eating away at his father's core.

He had watched them closely as they tried their best to bring his lady wife back to life. She looks so small, and fragile. He was afraid that they would break her as they moved back and forth to revive her.

The wet nurse of his child had asked and begged him to go out but he refused to do so and did not leave the room until the maester had told him that his wife was safe from harm. No one could tell when she would wake up but he was relieved that she could recover now.

At last, he had entrusted his child to her caretaker and asked the others to leave them be. Him alone with his wife. He waited for the sound of the door closing, before he broke down. With shaking limbs and eyes blurry with tears, he cried and kissed her hand.

He apologized for what he had put her through. He apologized for what she had to witness.

He apologized for exposing her to violence.

He apologized and apologized until there wasn't anything he could say to her.

If the life of his wife would be the retribution for his sins then he would never forgive himself.

That night, on his knees, he prayed and prayed for her to get better until there were no words he could utter to the Mother.

💚

Three days had passed and she was still asleep. He had smiled at her sleeping form as he recalled his interaction he had with his daughter. She was fussy and loud, just like her mother. He knew she would grow up with her mother's tenacity and boldness.

Ignoring her pale face and thin body, he bit the inside of his cheek and continued his story. This was worse than war. Sitting beside her and watching as she fights for her life. Waiting and not being able to help her. He hoped that his stories would make her feel strong.

He never liked the idea of her missing the growth of their child. He knew her better and this will make her sad. She had expressed that she had always wished for her mother to see her grow when she was young but she died too early for her to even remember her face, which people had claimed that they looked quite a lot like each others'.

He could never deny that there is no moment that he never missed her. Every inch and corner of Red Keep reminds him of her. Half of his life was him being with her. He wanted each and every waking moment of his was to be with her.

Swallowing his selfishness and pride, again, he prayed for her to get well and wake up soon. He bargained to all of the Gods that he will do anything and pay for it in his power to make it come true.

💚

The council room was obnoxiously loud. He watched them quietly like a hunter, staring down its prey.

If he had the choice, he would be with his daughter and wife. But alas, he had to create a strong foundation for this new nation for his lovely daughter. He had to muster all the patience he had to stay still and listen to them.

After the discussion about the trade and economy, suddenly, all the old men present looked at him warily. Even without them uttering a word, he knew what they would tell him.

A searing hot anger rises through him but he feels calm. Calm enough to not hesitate to stab and kill with ease, just like what he did during the war. Or maybe he could ask Vhagar to bite them off in half or burn them alive.

"Congratulations on having a girl, your grace. How was she?" He forgot that man's name but he believed the one who first opened his mouth was a Baratheon.

"My girl was doing well." He replied curt and short.

He saw how some of the men gulped in nervousness at the sound of his voice. He intended for them to feel the venom and challenge them to continue so he can cut their tongue. They looked nervous and fear was all over their features. Only Larys and Cregan, looked somewhat calm and remained quiet.

"We're happy to h-hear that." The Baratheon continued with eyes wandering around his allies, like a helpless sheep waiting to be slaughtered. Aemond moved back and leaned on his chair, he wanted to see them all on a better view. He lay his head to his hand as he stared them down.

The silence was loud as everyone stayed seated and waited for each other. No one dares to. They were afraid. Aemond, the King, was ruthless. They knew bloodshed would be inevitable if they opened their mouths to speak about the dying Queen and the King having no heir after she gave birth to a daughter.

Each one prefers their head intact, except for one. Or maybe the wise old folk of the North had better places to be and so he started the conversation with a tired sigh.

"I thought you have something to say about the Queen, boy." He looked at the young Baratheon who was seated across him with emotionless eyes.

The Baratheon stared at Cregan and the air shifted. The old wolf calling his name had given him confidence to open his mouth and talk about the real reason why this council meeting was held in the first place.

"Your grace, as much as we all pray for the Queen to get better. Please understand that we talk about this with the clearest intention in mind. After what happened to the Queen and the uncertainty of her health, we believed that it would be better to take another wife…..for the sake of our budding kingdom. In that way, we could secure an heir." He spoke with an air of superiority. As if he truly knew what he was talking about.

Aemond stared at the man. He doesn't know how long it was but he just looked at him. The silence was uncomfortable and some of the gentlemen in front of him looked nervous as they waited for him to speak.

"Y-your grace?" After some time, the Baratheon spoke again.

He breathed in and finally, with an intense stare at the fool in front of him, he spoke with a neutral chilling tone.

"Did you know how the war started in the first place, boy?" He tipped his head and waited for an answer.

Not knowing what to reply, the Baratheon boy blinked and looked around for help. But when no one could give him an answer he replied, confused.

"Your grace?"

"When my beloved lady wife was almost dying from childbirth, I suddenly remembered how and why we were all here. Why thousands of lives were lost. Why did dragons almost die and were wiped out?" He said with a menacing smirk.

"You see, it started on this very council. Who were greedy for power to have the dragon blood on their lineage. To have their blood on the throne. And a foolish king who wore his heart on his sleeves. Those greedy old men pretended to truly care for him by using the memory of his wife and in the end feasted on his heart, voraciously. "He was way too lenient for his own good and once he realized he was being used, it was too late to change anything." My mother once told me.

And I — I always saw my father as someone who swims along the current because he trusts way too easily, not knowing that there were sharp rocks waiting for him at the end. Even if I knew he wouldn't give me the love of a father as he should, I respect him for being the king. I believed he did his best to be a good one and a fair father to us. It doesn't mean it was enough though."

Aemond stared from afar as he recalled how he envied his sister. How she got all the love they deserved to have too. It was never their fault to be treated that way and so he blamed all of it on her. But after the war and during the time his wife had suffered the similar fate of the former Queen, he realized how lonely his father might have felt. He realized how his sister might have suffered from being a girl. It was a strong slap on his face as he sat in the middle of this council and watched how these men didn't care about what he had to endure and how the life of his wife was the only reason why he was keeping sane. They will never understand, never.

"Your grace, w-we cannot understand-"

"Of course you wouldn't. None of you would." He cut him off before he could continue to rebuke him.

"If the Queen dies right after this meeting, those who had agreed to have me married for another one would be beheaded for treason. If she did not survive even though her body has been doing well for days, I will treat her death as intentional from all of you. Speak again of her that way, head will roll, and blood will soak the iron throne. The only reason why you do not have a mad King, who craves death, was because of her."

He stood up and did not care with the way the men yelled in unison of their protest against what he said. The only ones who stayed seated were Larys and Cregan, who both shook their heads. He did not care if they agreed with him. His wife will not die and he will protect her even if it means he has to be a Mad King.

💚

He stayed seated beside her, just like what he has been doing these days.

He chooses to be with her at night. He cannot stand to sleep in their room without her. It feels empty and cold.

The barren room, even though filled with gold and riches, feels like another room in a gloomy castle.

Each night, he stayed with her. Talk to her until he falls asleep on her side. He will either hold her hand or weave his hand through her hair, to soothe her. Sometimes, he even sings to her in High Valyrian, hoping that she will hear him and finally open her eyes. She always tells him she loves his voice when he speaks his native tongue.

He waited and waited but it seems like today was like any other night. She needed a whole day of sleep to recuperate. He slowly closed his eyes after he kissed her goodnight. And prayed again that tomorrow, is the day she will smile at him again.

A caress…

He cannot help but smile at the soft feathery caress on his face. It reminds him so much of how she wakes him up in the morning. What a beautiful dream..

A dream…

He frowned when he realized it was just a dream. She was still asleep and sick. And with his brows knit together, he relinquished the soft touch of fingers on his face. It feels familiar and welcoming.

Just a bit more, he wanted to feel that she's with him.

He was slowly going back to sleep, after what happened today, he seemed tired than usual, and it did not take long as the sleep tugged him back again when a tap jolted him awake.

Even though the war ended a long time ago, his senses were still heightened and he was glad he wasn't wearing his sword or so he probably would have killed whoever forcefully woke him up.

A smile….

He stared, mouth agape, when he saw you giving him a tired smile. He blinked and then, he panicked as he rushed forward at you, careful not to hurt you with his weight.

"My love.." He said with so much worry in his voice. He was feeling the tears threatening to come out of his eyes as he gazed at her pale face and dry lips. He doesn't even know how he will touch her. A moment of hesitation, his hands stopped midair as he panics that he might break her. What if he hurt her unintentionally and she fell asleep again?

He watched her as she tried to move her mouth but failed. She swallowed and tried again. This time he went to where the water and cup was placed and he helped her up to drink. She was thirsty and her mouth is probably dry from being asleep for a long time. Aemond calm yourself! She needed you more than now.

Once done, he carefully assisted her to lean on the headboard and she sighed with relief.

He was just looking at her. And she was looking back at him. It took a while, the staring, until his face contorted with relief and then, he cried. He was shaking as he held her hand. She felt her fragile hands weave through his hair as she shushed him. He knew she was smiling. Glad to be back on his arms.

He never felt so relieved and so thankful.

All his life the people, his loved ones and even the gods did not like him.

No matter how much he tried his best. No matter how much he was better he will never be chosen for he was only a second son. He was there as a safety but never the one.

But you choose him. And never did your love wavered.

He never felt so hopeless when you were in pain and bedridden.

He never felt so useless despite doing his best to be the strongest for his family.

It was the first time he felt so inadequate and weak. That he gave all of his strength to kneel and pray for you whenever he could. He begged and promised that he would do anything in his power just so he could have you back.

And now, crying in your middle like a child, as you held him as tight as he did, he prayed for gratefulness.

💚

A week after you woke up, you are still not strong enough to walk outside.

You relinquished the sun on your window and watched as Aemond carried and sways your daughter.

You have a feeling that the reason why he was able to be in your room, as much as he could, was because he threatened the nobles every time they tried to stop him. You tried to talk to him once, compromising that he doesn't have to be with you, almost the whole day, but he shrugged and rolled his eyes, stating that he would rather be with his wife than be surrounded by men.

Aemond can be stubborn but he never runs from his obligations so this was truly new for you.

You giggled as you watched your lord husband's eyes widen from surprise. He was teasing your daughter by placing his finger in her small palm, when she closed and squeezed him tight, never letting go. His eyes softened when she cooed at him.

He looks so different from when they call him the one-eyed prince for being vicious and fearsome. You were truly loved by the gods for witnessing this interaction and being one of the centers of his affection.

"I will make her my heir." He said with a plain voice, as if he was asking you how you were.

"My love?" You frowned, confused. You have witnessed Rhaenyra being crowned heir and how the war started from there. What is going on?

"I will change the law to make the eldest an heir. No matter what gender they may be, they will be given the same education and treatment, fit as the next ruler. If the nobles disagree, not that I care about them, I will also add that a female heir and noble will always have a noble child. Compared to a prince, a boy, the one she would carry will have noble blood in their veins. I will use my life, my reign to establish this. My daughter will be heir and no man, no noble, will be able to take that from her." The initial worry and confusion you felt from earlier vanished, as you watched him share his plan with the softest eyes. The setting sun at the window, creating a soft silhouette of him carrying his daughter. He loves her more than the throne. Something you have never witnessed before.

It warms your heart and you never thought you would fall deeper in love with him this much in this lifetime. You will forever be happy that he chose you.

"My love…..you always prove to me why I choose you every single waking moment of my life." Without thinking you opened your mouth and spoke the words that always lingered in your end.

Surprised, he stared at you and then, he smiled in awe. You don't even need him to speak for you to know that his eyes and soften feature was him telling you that he loves you.

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winxanity-ii · 5 months

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𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏

╚»★«╝ 𝐇𝐱𝐇 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐚 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst/fuff-ish

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, fate hears your prayers of hurt and pain and you're saved in more ways than one.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 4.6k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Lololo I lowkey wandere how long it was gonn a be before i pop out with a HxH one-shot.

★·.·´🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ × 🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You're a shadow among shadows in the 247th Hunter Exam, another face in the crowd, but with a secret that sets you apart.

Behind the dark glasses you wear lies a secret—your eyes, usually a simple shade of brown, transform into a deep, vivid crimson when your emotions surge. This striking change is a remnant of your Kurta heritage, a beautiful yet haunting reminder of a past steeped in tragedy. You're a lone survivor, the massacre by the Phantom Troupe a scar that never fades.

You've learned to hide your eyes not only to blend in but to shield yourself from unwanted attention. The fluctuation in color from brown to red is a giveaway of your emotional state, a vulnerability you can't afford in situations that demand composure. These glasses are your armor, concealing the turmoil within and helping you maintain an air of normalcy amidst the chaos of the exam.

You watch them from a distance. There's the boy with the innocent face and spiky black hair—he exudes an unmistakable aura of purity. Beside him, a silver-haired kid, his demeanor screams 'trouble', but there's a hint of loyalty in his eyes. A tall guy in a suit, barking louder than his bite, is impossible to miss.

And then, there's him—one who unknowingly mirrors a part of your hidden past.

You don't know his name yet, but he's different. He has hair like sunlit gold and eyes of a striking gray, eyes that don't miss much. He moves with a certain calculated precision, every step, every gesture steeped in purpose.

You feel an inexcusable urge to go over and make friends with the group, but you don't. Sadly, you've learned the hard way—trust is a luxury, and solitude is your best friend. So, you watch and listen from a distance, absorbing fragments of their conversations as much as you could—their dreams, their fears, their determination to win. Despite the bustling environment of the exam, you're like a ghost—always there, unseen, unheard, yet moving through the exam with a silent vow to keep your identity and your pain securely locked away.

☆

In the suffocating confines of Trick Tower, you're caught in a psychological battle, the air thick with tension. Your adversary is no ordinary opponent; he's a prisoner, his smile not just cruel but dripping with wicked intent. The game's rules are simple, yet twisted in their own way: he has five minutes to provoke you into attacking him. The rule is clear—the quicker you lose your cool, the more hours you'll owe. If you somehow manage to withstand the full five minutes without lashing out, you'll escape any penalty. But this guy knows exactly how to push your buttons.

At the start, his insults are mere jabs, testing your defenses...

"Look at you, trying to act all tough." he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. "Why so quiet? Afraid you'll break a nail, sweetheart?

...however, as the clock ticks, his words turn increasingly vile and misogynistic....

"Aren't you going to entertain me? Don't be shy. Come over here so I can show you what a real man is."

You feel a twitch in your jaw, your calm facade beginning to crack. You scoff as you lift your head in defiance, your glasses slip, revealing a flash of crimson. It's only a moment, but he catches it.

He falls silent, and for a moment, you think he's done. But then, slowly, almost thoughtfully, he speaks again. "Never thought I'd see the famed Kurta fire in person," he says, a twisted awe in his voice. "Bet the Phantom Troupe had a field day with your kind getting those." His words crawl under your skin, each syllable laced with malice.

The timer hits around 5 minutes and 30 seconds when he crosses the final line. "Man, I should've bought a pair off the Phantom Troupe before landing in here. Would've made a nice trinket to gaze at and pass time," he smirks.

That's the last straw.

Your restraint shatters. You're on him before you know it, driven by a surge of raw, unbridled fury. Your fists are relentless, each strike a release of years of pent-up anger and grief. The world turns a shade of red, both from your eyes and your rage.

As the guards pull you off, his laughter turns into a painful gasp, a sound that echoes in your mind long after. "You lose," he chokes out, his twisted grin the last thing you see before he passes out.

Your short victory is hollow as you're given a swift verdict by the Tower Guard for losing he game—a penalty of ten lost hours, ten hours of isolation. Forced into isolation, you find yourself in a room shared with the very individuals you've been silently observing.

It's a bizarre twist of fate.

You learn their names in snippets of conversation. Gon, with his boundless energy. Killua, always cool and collected. Leorio, loud and passionate. And Kurapika, his voice a soft, determined thread in the tapestry of their chatter.

Oh, and this weird fat guy named Tonpa, as well.

The room feels smaller with their presence. You curl up on the other side of the room, a silent, watchful presence. Your body aches from the fight, your heart heavy with the weight of your past. As sleep tugs at your consciousness, you drift off, missing Kurapika's confession about his own quest for revenge, his own clan's tragedy.

Coming to, you're gently roused by Gon's voice, tinged with his usual cheerfulness. "Hey, your time's almost up!" he informs you. Gratefully, you murmur a soft "thanks" and sit up, stretching out the stiffness in your muscles.

Your gaze drifts across the room, taking in the scene. Killua is by himself, idly fiddling with Gon's fishing line, lost in thought. Leorio and Tonpa are sprawled on a sofa, an amusing picture with their feet comically entangled in each other's faces. Kurapika sits in quiet repose, absorbed in a book.

As your eyes linger on Kurapika, he seems to sense it, lifting his gaze from the pages to meet yours. Despite your shades, his piercing look makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. Quickly, you shift your gaze away.

Turning to your side, you notice Gon still sitting beside you, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Sorry," he begins hesitantly, "I was just wondering... why do you always wear those shades?" His finger points innocently at your glasses.

You reflexively reach up to your shades, ensuring they're in place, covering your revealing eyes. With a reassuring smile, you answer, "I have sensitive eyes. The shades help protect them from bright lights."

Gon's response is full of childlike wonder. "Like vampires?" he asks, his eyes wide.

Your laughter is soft, a rare sound amidst the tension of the Hunter Exam. "Yeah, kind of like vampires," you agree, amused by his analogy.

As you're chuckling, the Tower God's announcement interrupts, declaring the end of your penalty. Standing up, you gather your things, including a hoodie draped over a chair. You nod to Gon in appreciation. "Thank you... Gon, right?"

"Yup! My name's Gon! What's yours?" he asks with an infectious enthusiasm.

"Y/N," you reply with a smile. "Thanks again, Gon. Hope to see you in the next phase."

Gon's giggle rings out as you pat his head gently. "You too, Y/N!" he replies, still chuckling.

As you step out of the room, leaving behind the peculiar mix of companions, a sense of readiness fills you. The next phase of the Hunter Exam awaits, and with it, new challenges and opportunities. But for now, the brief interaction with Gon leaves a small, warm glow in your heart amidst the trials ahead.

☆

Sweat trickled down the side of your face as you raced through the dense underbrush of the forest.

C'mon Y/N! You got this! Phase 4! You've come so far! You kept repeating the mantra in your head, pushing yourself harder.

Phase 4 of the Hunter Exam, taking place on Zevil Island, was unlike any challenge you had faced before. Each participant was assigned a target, their badge the key to progressing further. Your assigned target: number 405.

Gon.

As soon as you saw the number, recognition flooded you. The thought of hunting down the boy and taking his badge didn't sit right with you. Besides, you knew better than to underestimate the solidarity of his group. So, you chose the alternative route—gathering three badges to compensate for not pursuing Gon's.

So far, you had managed to collect two other badges. But your success had drawn unwanted attention. A mercenary, furious that you had inadvertently taken his target, was now hot on your heels, seeking both vengeance and the badges you carried.

You pushed through the forest, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sounds of the island were a distant blur, the rustle of leaves and distant animal calls fading behind the adrenaline-fueled pounding of your heart. You had to lose him, had to be smart. This wasn't just about survival in the exam anymore—it was about surviving period.

You glanced back, catching a fleeting glimpse of your pursuer weaving through the trees. His determination matched your own, but for vastly different reasons. With a deep breath, you surged forward, your mind racing as fast as your feet. You needed a plan, and you needed it fast. The stakes were high, and failure wasn't an option.

Your legs burned with exertion, each step more labored than the last. Realizing that running wasn't a sustainable option, you made a split-second decision. It was time to face your pursuer head-on. The alternative—constantly looking over your shoulder for the next three days—was a prospect filled with dread and uncertainty.

You veered off the path, heading towards an open field nearby. There, you turned to face the direction you had come from, your breathing heavy, but determined. This was it—a confrontation was inevitable.

Moments later, the mercenary emerged from the break in the trees, his approach confident, almost cocky. He sauntered into the clearing, a sly grin plastered on his face, clearly thinking he had the upper hand.

As he stepped into the open, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the field, creating an almost surreal backdrop for the impending battle. The air was still, the usual sounds of the forest seemingly holding their breath in anticipation.

You stood your ground, eyes fixed on the mercenary. Your hand instinctively reached for your weapon, gripping it tightly. The tension was palpable, a tangible force in the air between you two.

"You think you can take me?" the mercenary taunted, his voice a low hum in the heavy air. "A nobody thinks they can best me for a badge?"

"I don't think," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of nerves inside you. "I know."

The battle commenced without another word. The forest became an arena, the trees pillars in the hall of combat. As you weave through the forest, the battle intensifies. The mercenary's knives are more than mere steel; they're extensions of his will, each strike aimed with deadly intent. You can almost feel the air parting as they whistle past, a mere hair's breadth from your skin.

"Can't touch me," you taunt under your breath, your voice a mix of bravado and focus. Your feet barely touch the ground as you dodge, pivot, and retaliate with a series of calculated blows and kicks.

The forest, with its towering trees and dappled sunlight, transforms into a blur around you. You're in the eye of the storm, where every breath is measured, every movement a dance with destiny. The mercenary lunges, and you hear the sharp intake of breath, the rustle of leaves underfoot—a symphony of survival.

Suddenly, pain sears through your shoulder, a sharp, hot line where his knife finds its mark. "Gotcha," he hisses, a shadowy figure with a smirk that chills your blood.

You grit your teeth, feeling the warm trickle of blood, a stark reminder of your mortality. You're a whirlwind of motion, each step an intricate part of this deadly dance, but the mercenary is a step ahead, his knives a blur of silver and shadow. You hear the slicing of air, feel the sting as one blade after another grazes your skin, leaving behind a trail of shallow cuts; blood beading on your arm creating a vivid contrast against your skin.

"I'm impressed," he taunts, his voice a low rumble in the chaos. "But not enough."

You dodge another swipe, the air humming with the missed connection. It's a relentless assault, and you're pushed to your limits, each movement driven by sheer willpower. The forest around you is both arena and witness, the rustling leaves a hushed audience to your struggle.

Then, a sharp pain seizes your side—a knife, lodged deep. You gasp, the shock almost buckling your knees. Your vision begins to blur, edges fringing with black. You hear your breathing, ragged and wet, each inhale tainted with the metallic tang of blood. It's like drowning on dry land, the taste of iron filling your mouth, a stark reminder of the blood you're losing. Your head spins, the forest around you swaying in a nauseating dance.

The mercenary looms closer, a shadow preying on your weakened state. "Looks like I got you, again~" he smirks, already reaching for another blade to finish the job.

The pain is intense, a burning fire in your side...but in this moment of despair, something within you stirs. A distant echo, the cries and shouts of your clan, resonating through the haze of pain. Their voices, filled with courage and defiance in their final stand against the Phantom Troupe, ignite a fire in your soul. It's a call to arms, a call to honor their memory.

You shake your head, clearing the fog of pain and despair. Your heart pounds in your chest, a drumbeat of survival. "For my clan," you whisper, the words a lifeline pulling you back from the edge of defeat.

Time seems to slow, each second stretching out as you summon the last reserves of your strength. With a deep, shuddering breath, you focus. The pain is still there, a constant companion, but now it fuels your resolve. You grip the hilt of the knife in your side, a grim determination setting in your features. With a swift, decisive motion, you pull it out, ignoring the fresh wave of pain that threatens to overwhelm you.

The mercenary pauses as his eyes widen, a flicker of surprise at your unwavering spirit. You can see the calculation in his gaze, the reassessment of his prey. But you don't afford him the luxury of time. With the last of your strength, you launch forward, using his momentary hesitation. Your movements are a blend of instinct and desperation, a final stand against the inevitable as you channel your pain into action

There's a clash of steel, a grunt of effort. The mercenary staggers back, his knife clattering to the ground. You stand there, breathing heavily, the pain in your side a constant throb, but you're still standing.

"You're... not bad," he concedes, a grudging respect in his voice as he eyes you warily, reassessing you at a closer distance as he tries to puts a few feet between the two of you.

You don't have time for words. You're wounded, every breath a battle, but this fight is yours. With a last effort, before he can gather his bearing and attack you once more, you advance, your own blade steady in your grip. The forest holds its breath, the final act about to unfold.

In a blur, you twist, your foot sweeping out in a calculated arc, knocking his legs from under him. The world tilts as you both crash to the forest floor. With a desperate, precise thrust, you drive your blade into the side of his neck.

The mercenary lets out a choked laugh, a grotesque symphony of pain and disbelief, as blood blooms from the wound and stains his lips. "Good luck, doll. You're gonna need it," he gasps, his voice a gurgling whisper.

Stiffly, you snatch his badge off of his shirt before staggering back, your legs shaky and unreliable. The forest spins around you, trees blurring into indistinct shapes as you bump into them, each impact a jolt of pain. Your vision dims, the edges closing in, a tunnel of darkness encroaching as blood loss takes its toll.

You push forward, each step a battle against the relentless pull of your injuries. The forest, once a vibrant tapestry of green and gold, now seems muted, the colors fading as your strength wanes. Your breathing is ragged, a harsh symphony punctuated by the throb of your wounded side. You can taste blood in your mouth, the iron tang a stark reminder of the price you've paid.

The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, as if you're walking through a dream. You lean against a tree, its bark rough under your palm, seeking a moment's respite. The texture under your palm is a reminder of that you're still here, despite the overwhelming pain that roars in your ear. You close your tightly eyes, willing yourself to stay conscious, to keep moving.

In the haze of exhaustion, your mind drifts, not to the pain or the blood you've shed, but to the deeper meaning of your struggle. You realize—even in this weakened state—that your victory extends beyond the physical realm. You've honored your heritage, upheld the values and legacy of your clan. Their voices, which once echoed faintly in the recesses of your memory, now resound within you, clear and strong, filling you with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

And in this quiet moment, if you focus just enough, you can almost sense the presence of your parents. It's as if their voices whisper in the wind—congratulating you—their words a soothing balm to your battered spirit. You imagine the warmth of their hands enveloping you in an embrace of love and approval. Their presence, though intangible, is a vivid sensation that momentarily lessens the physical pain, filling you with a sense of peace and the strength to persevere.

You reach into your pockets to fetch the source of your physical pain—those stupid badges. And since your recent victory with the mercenary, you know had all the points needed to succeed to the next phase.

"...you're gonna need it..." The mercenary's last words rings in your ears, haunting you; a prophecy or a curse, you can't tell.

You clutched the badges like a lifeline as your vision blurred, the edges darkening, and in that encroaching shadow, you saw him—Kurapika.

At first, you thought he was a figment of your imagination, but his gasp cut through the silence of the forest, a soft but sharp intake of breath that seemed to pierce the veil of your pain.

"Your eyes..." Kurapika's voice was a thread of sound, woven with shock and a dawning realization as he approached cautiously, his footsteps barely a whisper on the forest floor. "...Kurta?" Kurapika murmured, the word laced with uncertainty and disbelief.

As your eyes met his, a visible change overtook him. His gaze intensified, the hue of his eyes deepening into a vivid red, mirroring the tumult of emotions within as he recognized the truth before him.

Your state was dire, a vivid canvas of your recent battle. Blood was smeared across the side of your face, stark against your skin, and your eyes were unfocused, hazy with pain and the effort to remain conscious. Kurapika's steps faltered, a mix of shock and concern etching his features as he kneeled beside you.

You couldn't help but look into his eyes—praying that your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. And there you saw it, a reflection of your own—a crimson shade that told a story of loss and of a lineage almost erased from the world. The sight of his crimson eyes ignited a glimmer of hope within you. You weren't alone; another Kurta still walked this earth.

His hands hovered over your broken form, trembling slightly, betraying his inner turmoil. He was mumbling, words lost in a stream of consciousness, as if he were trying to piece together the reality before him.

You attempted to speak—to express your happiness—but the effort was too much. Blood trickled from the corner of your lips, and a pained sigh escaped you as you tried to shift away from your injured side. Kurapika's reaction was immediate, a soft, soothing coo escaping him. "It's okay, don't push yourself; you don't have to saying anything. I'm here," he reassured, his voice a calming presence in the chaos of your agony.

But the darkness was calling, an embrace that promised respite from the pain. You leaned into it, even as Kurapika's voice became the anchor trying to hold you in the light. "No more worries," he whispered, his hands warm against the cool touch of your skin. "You'll be safe with me."

With the last of you strength, you whispered a faint, "...okay..." before falling unconscious.

As the shadows embraced you, Kurapika's world became a whirlwind of emotion, and you slipped into unconsciousness, cradled in his arms. His hands, now protectors, held you close, your head against his chest. His fingers grazed your skin, feeling the rise and fall of your labored breaths, his touch a silent vow against the dark.

"No, not again," he murmured to himself, a haunted lullaby for two souls intertwined by fate and tragedy. His arms tightened around you, as if his embrace alone could shield you from the world's cruelty. "I can't... I won't let it happen again."

The memory of his clan—of crimson eyes dimmed forever—flashed in his mind, an echo of the past threatening to repeat itself. He rocked gently, a motion born from an instinct to comfort, to soothe, even as his own heart screamed in anguish.

In the quiet forest, he leaned back and beheld your face—brown skin illuminated by the moon's touch, your hair a soft crown of twisted locks framing your peaceful expression. His fingertips traced the contours of your face with reverence, a silent apology to every moment he had unknowingly left you alone in a world that had taken so much from both of you.

"You're here," he whispered, more to himself than to you, a prayer in the solitude. "You're alive, and as long as I breathe, I will fight for you... with you. I will not let this light go out."

Kurapika's breath was a warm whisper against your skin as he nosed the side of your face. His hands, trembling with an intensity born of fear and love, cupped your cheek gently, as his eyes fluttered closed, savoring a fleeting moment of bliss amid the chaos.

A rustle in the underbrush broke the stillness, and Leorio's voice cut through the quiet. "Kurapika? What happened? Are you—"

His words hung unfinished as he stumbled into the clearing, his eyes landing on the two of you. Kurapika's head snapped up, his eyes glowing fiercely, a reflection of the turmoil within.

"Kurapika, your eyes..." Leorio's voice was thick with concern and confusion.

"They are the eyes of my clan," Kurapika stated, the flames in his eyes not dimming but burning brighter with resolve. "And she shares them. She shares my pain, my burden. She is Kurta, and I will not fail her as I failed... the others."

Leorio stepped forward, his intentions clear and his resolve unshakable. "We'll help her, Kurapika. We're going to get through this. Together," he stated firmly, ready to extend his hand and offer his strength.

But Kurapika's reaction was immediate and sharp, a sudden tension seizing his body. "No," he said quickly, almost vehemently, his voice low and possessive. "She's mine to protect. She's a Kurta—my responsibility." His words cut through the air, a clear boundary drawn in the wake of Leorio's offer.

Leorio halted, confusion etching his features as he assessed his friend's guarded posture and the fierce, protective glare that seemed out of place on Kurapika's usually composed face.

"Kurapika, we're all friends here," Leorio tried to reason, his concern growing with each passing second. "We want to help—"

"No, Leorio!" Kurapika's interruption was firm, brooking no argument. "She's not just anyone. Our pain is shared, our past... our vengeance." His arms instinctively tightened around you, his movements a physical manifestation of his unspoken vow to protect you.

Leorio's brow furrowed, the weight of Kurapika's isolation dawning on him. Yet, he understood the unspoken language of trauma that seemed to emanate from Kurapika's every pore.

There was a silent promise exchanged in the look that passed between them, a pact made under the witness of stars and stillness. With a slow nod, he stepped back, giving space and respect to the silent plea for solitude and stewardship that Kurapika was asserting.

"We'll be here... when you're ready," Leorio conceded, offering support in his retreat, an acknowledgment of Kurapika's unyielding will to be the shield, the keeper of the last of his clan.

In the quiet that followed, Kurapika's gaze softened as he looked down at you, his demeanor shifting from defensive to tender. "I will keep you safe," he whispered, as if the words were a talisman against the world. "You are mine to defend, and I will lay down my life before I see this light extinguished."

He gently cupped the back of your head, drawing you in closer, until your head nestled securely beneath his chin. The side of his chin acted as a shield, a subtle yet powerful barrier, symbolizing his determination to guard you against any harm.

He would keep you safe, no matter what storms may come, for in you, he had found a piece of hope—a precious echo of a home lost to whispers and to time.

🙈🙈hehehe just me being delusional as usual, carry on

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fanfic-wonderland · 6 months

Text

This Is War {Fred Weasley}

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Slytherin loses the Quidditch Cup to Gryffindor, (Y/N) decides to get back at them... and at Fred Weasley.

Word count: 5.3k

Read part two here.

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"Look at them," Draco glowers at the group of people flying around the other side above the pitch, moving to stand right across from us. All of them are wearing matching red and gold uniforms, a very distinctive contrast to our (better-looking) green and silver ones. "They think they have a chance against us just because Potter is their Seeker. If you ask me, I've seen Flobberworms moving around faster than him."

The rest of the team laughs. I have the sudden urge to point out the many times Harry's beaten Draco in the past, just to shut them up, but I choose to keep it to myself. After all, we're on the same team, even if I often don't agree with my teammates. Besides, I would never hear the end of it, and the last thing I'd want to do when I'm so close to graduating is to get in trouble with Lucius Malfoy because his son is a whiny baby.

I keep observing the opposite team. All of them have gathered around in their own little broom circle, listening to what one of the three girls is saying. I spot Harry Potter with his back facing us while Ron Weasley stands beside him, looking defeated already.

And standing next to him are his older identical twin brothers. The worst of them all, by far. Those two are just so hard to like. They're careless, and reckless, and love to waste their time coming up with useless little experiments. They specifically have taken quite a liking to pulling pranks on us Slytherins daily, and frankly, It's become very annoying.

Three nights ago, in fact, the Weasley twins and a few other Gryffindors took it too far when they decided to bombard our entire Common Room —and our dorms— with Dungbombs. And three nights later, we're still mad. How they managed to sneak past us and plant all those bombs remains a mystery, but one thing is for sure: they've declared war and we are not backing down. "I'd love nothing more than to see their faces when we win that Quidditch Cup," Adrian Pucey says next to me. "It'd be the perfect way to get back at them for their little prank last time."

The rest of us mutter in agreement. "Well, if we want to do that, then we have to play perfectly today. Considering It's the final game and all," I point out. "That means we can't let them score too many points or catch the Snitch. And that means you'll have to be extra quick today, Draco."

He shoots me a nasty look as if he's disgusted by the fact that I'm telling him what to do. "Thank you for sharing that with us, (Y/L/N)," Graham Montague adverts his attention from Gryffindor and turns to me, the same look on his face. "Unfortunately, I don't remember making you our Co-Captain, so you might want to keep any comments or useless observations to yourself."

I hear snickering behind me but I do not turn around. Being the only girl on the team definitely comes with its cons. Sexism, for example. "I'm certainly doing a better job than our current Captain," I mutter quietly while rolling my eyes.

Down at the pitch, Madam Hooch steps into the center of the field, next to a brown trunk, and blows her whistle, which is somehow heard over the loud cheering from the crowd. Both teams fly closer to each other. Gryffindor shoots daggers at us and, as I take a long look at all of them, I find one of the twins staring directly at me. They're identical but, because of their little 'history' of messing with me and my fellow classmates, I can tell them apart almost naturally. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.

I can tell immediately that it is Fred Weasley who is smiling mockingly at me and a wave of rage runs through me.

Of course, It's Fred. I've discovered throughout the years that, even though both twins are bad enough on their own, Fred is by far the worst of the pair. While George can sometimes know when to stop, Fred does not care nearly as much about crossing the line. I glare at him, hard enough to get him to look away first, but his smile only grows bigger and he winks at me. I finally break eye contact, but only because I want all of my focus to be on the game and not wasted on someone so immature as him.

Once everyone is set, Madam Hooch opens up the trunk and the two Bludgers shoot into the sky, quickly followed by the Golden Snitch. Then, as soon as the Quaffle finally shoots free, the game starts.

It feels like a long match, like an endless cat-and-mouse game as both teams try and catch up to each other. For the longest time, It's a close call between scores, which makes all players —and the public— tense. Lee Jordan's commentary is all over the place throughout the game; one minute, he's excited when Gryffindor is in the lead, and then the next one he's accusing Slytherin of cheating when we take it (which most of the time ends up being true, but I look past it). Despite this, we put up a fairly good fight, and for the first time in so long, it feels like the Quidditch Cup is finally ours.

Unfortunately, we don't put up a good enough fight.

I'm too busy avoiding Bludgers and trying to take the Quaffle away from the opposite team that I nearly jump from my broom when I hear the whistle blowing again. Confused, I halt my flight and look around. I quickly spot Draco in the distance, running a hand through his hair in frustration, and I immediately know what happened.

Harry caught the Snitch. Again.

"Gryffindor wins!" Madam Hooch announces.

A loud wave of cheers erupts from the Gryffindors in the crowd, hugging each other and jumping excitedly at their victory. I groan as the rest of the opposite team lands back on the ground to go and congratulate Harry for the catch. I watch as they smile and pump fists into the air, and I shake my head in disappointment. I really thought we were going to win this time. "Well, I guess we're still the best team, huh?" A voice says and I turn to look at the person.

Fred is the only Gryffindor still mounting a broom, and he doesn't seem to be in any rush to join his teammates. He leans back effortlessly as if he's lying on a couch, with his hands behind his head. I scowl at him. "Shouldn't you be down there celebrating your victory, then, instead of bothering me?"

He shrugs. "I'd much rather be here, watching your defeat from up close."

My nostrils flare and if I had my wand I'd hex him here and there. "Aww, but don't worry," He fake pouts. "There'll be plenty of opportunities to try and win in the next few years. Too bad you won't be here to see it."

He finally flies away with that stupid smug look on his face and it takes everything in me not to throw a Bludger at his head. I try to ignore the fact that his words struck a nerve because he's right. This was my last chance to help win the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin and now It's gone. I missed it.

Shaking the thoughts away, I go to join my sulking teammates, who are all gathering around Draco. "I almost had it. I even touched it with the tip of my fingers," He's saying when I arrive. I have a feeling that that is not at all true. "But then Potter had to come in and ruin everything. I bet that broom of his was charmed with super speed or something."

No one says anything about it. I know they're upset about losing but they would never dare blame Draco for it. "We were so close, though," says Cassius Warrington in a frustrated tone.

"Yeah, and now we've got to think of another way to get back at them," Adrian adds.

As I watch the other team still celebrating, a light bulb turns on above my head. "Don't worry, guys," I reassure them. My wicked smile brings them a sort of comfort. "I think I have a plan to get them back."

***

"Okay, but why do I have to get dragged into this?" Daphne Greengrass, my puzzled best friend, asks as we step out of our dorm and into the dark hallway. "I don't have any beef with Gryffindor, that's your thing."

"Right, but, aside from myself, you're the only person that I trust to do this job," I tell her, quickening my steps down the stairs. "And you're way more tolerable than the others."

"Gee, thanks for that,"

"Plus, the Slytherin team is around the castle keeping watch of any Professors or Prefects or Filch," I add. "And Draco and Blaise have to get the two Gryffindor girls, so we're stuck with the most important task, and we have to do it right."

"Because of course, we are," Daphne rolls her eyes.

"Did you bring the secret ingredients?"

She reaches into her bag and takes out two clear bottles, one with a dark purple liquid in it and the other one with something that almost looks like mud. I smile delightedly. "You have no idea how happy I am that you just happened to have Sleeping Draught and Polyjuice Potion lying around the dorm."

"That's funny because back then, I remember you said that me brewing potions for fun was 'a bit pointless if you have to wait so long to brew them'" Daphne recalls.

I clear my throat uncomfortably. "I do apologize for that. I will never doubt you again."

The plan is simple.

Gryffindor is currently having a party to celebrate their victory at their Common Room. Draco and Blaise Zabini have written a letter addressed to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, probably the easiest targets we could get, asking them to meet Michael Corner and Cormac McLaggen at the Courtyard. Pansy Parkinson will charm said letter to fly to the girls; once they get it, Draco and Blaise will put them to sleep, take a strand of hair from each of them, and bring it back to us. We mix the hair with our potion servings, drink the potion, and once we transform we sneak into the Common Room and add a (lot) bit of Sleeping Draught into the drinks. When we've made sure that everyone in the room fell into a deep slumber, we take the Quidditch Cup from them and they'll wake up in the morning with no idea of what happened. It'll look like everyone was just blackout drunk and they lost the Cup because of their irresponsibility.

It's a great plan if you ask me.

"I do have a question, though," Daphne stops walking once we make it to our own Common Room. "Don't we need the password to get into their Common Room?"

I grin and reach into my pocket, holding out a piece of paper in front of her. 'Mimbulus mimbletonia', it reads. "I stole it from that Longbottom kid in Transfiguration earlier," I say. "At first, I figured we'd rely on luck and wait until someone came around to help us, but it was much easier to just take the password from him. Plus, it saves us time."

"Huh," Daphne takes a seat on the nearest chair and folds her arms, impressed. "Good thinking. So, when are Draco and Blaise coming?"

"I'd say they should be here—"

Before I finish my sentence, and as if they've heard us talking about them, the Common Room door opens and both boys walk toward us with triumphant looks on their faces. Draco holds up the small pouch in his hand. "We got them."

"Oh, good," I sigh in relief as they hold out their pouches to us. I take the one in Draco's hand and Daphne takes the other one. I open mine up and a few long dark hairs come out. I can immediately tell that it is Parvati's. "Good job, guys. Daphne?"

She takes out two cups from her bag and hands one to me. Once I take it, she pours the muddy liquid into mine and then onto hers. I glance down at my cup, grimacing when I notice It's bubbling in the most disgusting way. I turn back at Daphne before I can start feeling nauseous. "Ready?"

She gulps, also eyeing her potion, then gives a slow nod.

We each throw our hair into the liquid, which completely consumes it until it is not visible anymore. A few moments pass and my potion begins to shift colors. The muddy brown is completely gone, replaced by a shocking pink that nearly blinds me. I look up at Daphne's portion and hers has turned into... well, lavender. "You don't happen to have an idea of how much these will last, do you?" I ask her.

Daphne smiles weakly. "One can never really tell, am I right?" She raises her glass in front of me. "Bottoms up!"

We both chug down our potion at once. Mine tastes... okay. I don't know why I expected it to taste like shit but It's sweet, although not overpowering. Daphne's doesn't seem to taste too bad, either, seeing as she drinks it with ease.

The bad part comes right after.

I've never consumed Polyjuice Potion before this so I'm not sure exactly what to expect, but I've heard the transformation process is extremely unpleasant so I'm not expecting something good. Once it finally starts, I let go of my cup and I'm crouching on the floor in less than 10 seconds. My insides feel like they're twisting and turning into irreparable knots, and my skin feels like It's burning. I hear Daphne moaning in pain but I don't look up at her. My eyes are glued to the bubbles forming in my hands and arms. I nearly begin to panic but I try to remain calm as my skin begins to darken, my fingers shrinking a bit and turning slightly thinner. A long dark hood begins to take over my vision while I'm still crouched, and it takes me a moment to realize that It's just my hair, which doesn't seem to stop growing. My robes suddenly begin to feel lighter than usual as my body takes the shape of Parvati. The pain stops as suddenly as it started and it leaves me trying to catch my breath. I try to stand up straight again, catching sight of Draco and Blaise's faces first. Both of them look like they've seen a ghost for a moment before their expressions shift into amusement. "Whoa," Blaise mutters. "That was terrifying to watch. But you guys look exactly like them."

I don't say anything as I turn to find Daphne again, but I'm met with Lavender Brown staring at me with wide eyes instead. We both gasp, frozen in our spots. To anyone else, she wouldn't look any different than the real Lavender, but I still find a bit of Daphne in the way she stares at me. "Oh Merlin," she tilts her head. "This is terrifying."

"Tell me about it," I agree while I take one last look at my hands. I grab my hair; It's so long that I have no idea what to do with it. I've never had it this long so it does sort of feel heavy.

"Yes, yes, It's all very impressive," Draco says in a dismissive manner. "But we still have other important things to do."

Even though I hate that he has to be such an asshole all the time, he's right. We cannot lose sight of what's important.

So, Daphne and I go to change clothes and then head to the Gryffindor Tower. It feels like a marathon but we finally stop in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. She eyes us carefully and for a moment I begin to think that she's onto us. I try not to look suspicious and I can sense Daphne doing the same next to me. "Password?"

"Mimbulus mimbletonia." I say without stuttering, trying to seem casual and like It's not my first time sneaking into Gryffindor's Common Room.

She nods and the portrait slowly opens. I almost let out a sigh of relief as we walk in but I'm stopped by the sight of the Common Room. I've never been here before but It's hard to take it all in when there are so many students in it at the same time. Nonetheless, I can tell that It's so much different than Slytherin's Common Room, and not in a good way.

"Okay," Daphne says, but It's barely audible through the loud music playing. "We're here now, there's no turning back. Do you see the drinks anywhere?"

I scan the room a bit longer. I spot the music box in a corner, next to a couple making out against the wall; I spot the Quidditch Cup exhibited on a clear shelf, next to Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley who are talking on the other side of the room; and I do see many people holding cups, which means that we'll probably have to go around slipping Sleeping Draught in all of them.

I finally catch a glimpse of a long table with different kinds of snacks and—

"I see something!" I tell her excitedly and I point to the table, where there are also two huge bowls filled with red and gold liquid, probably charmed to look that way.

Daphne smiles in satisfaction. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Wait," I stop her. "I think we have to split up."

"Huh?"

"There are people drinking already so maybe you could try and slip some Draught in their drinks while I try to slip it into the bowls first?" I suggest.

She nods. "Right. I'll start on the left side of the room, then."

We divide the potion and part ways, and I start making my way through the crowd until I can't see her anymore. A few people say hi to me and, even though I don't know much about Parvati Patil, I try to act how I've seen her act— bright, outgoing, and a little bit annoying. Luckily, though, no one stops to make conversation so I make an easy escape until I finally reach the table.

I take out the cup that Daphne gave me and I discreetly begin to pour the purple liquid into the cup. Fortunately, it does not change colors. "I see what you're doing," a voice says from behind me and I almost drop the cup.

I turn around, trying to act normal, and then I see that the person talking is none other than Fred Weasley. Out of all people. "What?"

He grins. "You're spiking the punch even more, aren't you? I didn't know you were such a party animal, Parvati."

I almost forget that I look like a whole different person right now. I chuckle and raise my arms. "You're right. You caught me."

"Well, don't let me stop you. Go on ahead. It'll definitely make things a lot more fun around here." Fred winks at me before he walks away and I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

Aside from that small incident, I don't bump into anyone else. Everyone's already too drunk out of their minds to notice me. It makes it easier for me to slip more Sleeping Draught into people's drinks, and I keep doing it until I find Daphne again and we're certain that we've got everyone. "And now we just wait."

***

It doesn't take long for everyone but Daphne and I to start collapsing from sleep. In fact, it happens very quickly.

Daphne and I are giggling like maniacs as we tiptoe around until we're in front of the silver Quidditch Cup, admiring its beauty for a moment. "I can't believe we actually pulled this off," Daphne says under her breath, her eyes glowing. "We're so cool."

"Told you we could do it," I nudge her side. "Now for the final act..."

I take it in my hands. It feels heavier than I expected but it feels so good to hold it. "What a beauty," I keep admiring it until I'm brought back to my senses. "Okay, now let's get out of here."

We finally make it out of the Common Room and it feels like we've been liberated. Our surroundings begin to feel familiar again. "I'll go let the others know that we have the Cup," Daphne announces excitedly.

"Good idea," I tell her. "I'll go take this to the dungeons."

She nods and we part ways once again. I try to hide the Cup in my bag as much as I can but It's so big that the top part still sticks out, but it will have to do.

If the path to the Gryffindor Tower felt long, this time it feels eternal, especially when the tension of being caught follows me around. I have to be extra careful this time; if anyone sees me I'll get in huge trouble and I don't even want to begin thinking about that. So I have to sneak around and be very aware of my surroundings if I want this to go as planned. It's all up to me now.

When I'm finally sure that I'm outside of the public eye, I turn a corner and let out a shriek as I almost come face-to-face with a tall figure. And of course, It's Fred Weasley again.

Wait...

"H-hey, Fred!" I smile brightly at him. Maybe it comes off a bit too forced but oh well. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to check up on you and Lavender, since you guys left in such a hurry," His eyes find my bag and my stomach drops. "What are you doing with the Quidditch Cup?"

"I'm..." I try to think fast but without looking suspicious, and then I realize that I'm most certainly failing at it. "I was just on my way to polish it! And then I was going to bring it back later."

"Were you?" Fred raises an eyebrow and steps closer.

I nod. "Of course! What, you think I'm stealing it or something?"

He's practically hovering over me now and I have to crane my neck to look up at him. He extends a hand out to me. "Why don't you let me help you, then?"

"I'm sure you're probably busy—"

"I have nothing on my schedule right now." He cuts me off. His gaze makes me feel like a criminal. "I'd love to help out."

I shrug. "It shouldn't be too much work, I can do it on my own, really—"

Suddenly, my back is pressed against the stone wall and I'm caged in between both of his arms. I yelp in surprise. Fred's face is awfully close to mine and he's staring at me as if he's trying to figure out my identity. My true identity. "You're not the real Parvati, are you?"

I swallow hard and do the first thing that comes to mind: I take out my wand from my back pocket and point it at him. "Flipendo!"

A yellow light surges out of the tip of my wand and knocks Fred back and away from me. As soon as his back meets the ground I make a run for it.

I have no idea where I'm heading, my vision is far too clouded right now, but I do not look back and I do not stop running. I've forgotten all about being discreet and I've stopped worrying about getting caught by someone else. I'm already in enough trouble as it is.

My feet guide me outside of the castle, and I know that if anyone finds out I'll get detention for at least 2 months, but I don't care as I keep moving. My stomach begins to turn in that weird way again all of a sudden. "Oh no, please, not now," I beg.

Despite the uncomfortable feeling, I'm still running until I reach the dock at the Great Lake. It's barely visible and the water is so dark that it looks like a huge void, but at least no one can see me here. The pain continues for a few moments, and when it finally stops I look at my hands. They look like my hands again. I reach to touch my hair and realize It's not nearly as long anymore. Even if it didn't last long, it feels good to be back to my old self.

"There you are,"

Crap.

I turn slowly to look at Fred, who apparently does not know to mind his own bloody business. His eyes widen in surprise once he sees me but then he shakes his head and smirks. "Well, hello there. I never thought that, out of all people, you would try and pull off something like this," I remain quiet. "I believe you have something that belongs to us." He takes a step closer.

I pretend to ponder. "No, I don't think I do. I think you have the wrong person."

"Oh, silly me, right? I thought you looked different back there," He says then takes out his own wand. "Accio Quidditch Cup!"

The Cup suddenly flies out of the bag, all the way into Fred's hands.

"Give it to me," I run towards him and try to yank the cup from his hands. Unfortunately for me, his grip is way stronger than mine. He raises it above his head, which, given our very distinctive height difference, is impossible for me to reach. I jump while extending my arm as high as possible, but It's useless. He's still looking down at me like I'm an annoying toddler wanting to get his attention. "Weasley!"

"Sorry," He shrugs. "Finder's keepers."

Grumbling curses at him under my breath, I reach for my wand and point it at the cup, using the same Summoning Charm as him. As soon as the cup is back in my hands, I run for it. I hear Fred shouting my name behind me, but I don't turn back. I'm laughing like a maniac as I run to the opposite side when I'm suddenly stopped in my tracks. For a second, I cannot move. It's like an invisible force is restricting my entire body. And then I'm yanked back by said force until I'm back in my previous spot, right in front of Fred. He snatches the cup from me and grins. "Thank you, kind lady. Oh, and I'll be taking this, too."

He snatches my wand from my hand and begins to run away. My first instinct is to jump on his back, ignoring his protests as I try to reach for my wand first. He manages to shake me off before I can do so, but I don't give up. I'm still trying to reach for him, for anything, but between all that wrestling, I slip from the dock and fall into the freezing water. When I emerge, my whole body is shivering and my teeth are chattering uncontrollably. I look back at the dock and Fred is still standing there, his mouth open as he stares at me in shock. And then he bursts out laughing. "You'll p-pay for this!" I shout at him but he just keeps laughing.

I hear something behind me— it almost sounds like a waterfall. But as I turn around I don't see anything of the sort.

Instead, I see a tentacle. A huge tentacle coming at me from the water.

The color drains from my face, I'm sure, and I let out a loud scream. I scream so loud that I don't hear anything else. I think Fred is shouting something, and I'm not sure if It's at me or at the giant squid, but I don't find out. I shut my eyes close but my body is frozen in place. I can't move. It might be the fear, it might be the cold, it might even be both, but I can't move a muscle.

What a terrible way to die this is.

"(Y/N)," Fred calls from the dock but I can barely hear him. My heartbeats are too fast and too loud. "It's okay, It's gone! Just swim back to shore."

I'm too busy hyperventilating to listen to him. I was just face-to-face with a giant squid— a bloody giant squid. My mind is not processing anything at the moment and all I can feel is panic, still.

I hear a splash of water nearby and a pair of arms suddenly sneak around me below the water. A small gasp escapes my lips as Fred's face appears right of mine. As if by instinct, I wrap my arms around his neck. It's the closest we've ever been. "Look at me," he says but I don't need him to. I'm already getting lost in the soothingness of his eyes. "You're okay. Nothing or no one will hurt you as long as I'm here, okay?"

I nod wordlessly. I'm still shaking uncontrollably and I probably look like a mess right now. "I'm going to get us back to shore now," He informs carefully. "Is that okay with you?"

"Y-yes, please."

As soon as I give him the green light, he picks me up bridal style and begins to swim back to shore.

We get to land safe and sound, just as he had promised. I feel a huge sense of relief the moment my feet touch land, but my arms do not let go of him and his hands are still on my waist. When I turn to face him, he's already looking down at me. "See?" he says with a chuckle. His voice is soft and comforting. "It's all good now. You have nothing to worry about."

For a moment, I seem to forget that the boy standing in front of me is the boy that I've hated for all these years. I forget all the pranks he pulled on me and my housemates, all the times he enraged and mocked me. I forget about all of that and I don't know what comes over me but I lean up and I kiss him.

I can tell that Fred is surprised by how he freezes as soon as our lips touch, but once he composes himself, he responds. He pulls me closer and tightens his grip around me, which is probably the moment that I start losing my grip on reality. A wave of warmth washes through me and it feels... nice. Especially after going out for a midnight swim. His lips feel soft against mine and It's nearly impossible to stay away from them. My hands grip his hair and he lets out a low grunt against my mouth. The sound is sinful. It makes me want more of him.

We pull away after a while, though, and none of us say anything. My eyes flutter open almost at the same time as his, and for a moment It's like a sort of dream where nothing is real.

But of course, he has to ruin it.

"Wow," Fred's dazed smile widens. "What a nice way to say 'Thank you for saving my life'."

I blink a few times and it takes a moment to snap out of my trance, and when I do I am mortified. When I finally come to all my senses, I unwrap my arms from his neck and push him away. As soon as he lets go, I start to look for my wand. I finally find it lying next to the Cup but I don't even bother to grab that. It was a mistake to even try and steal it. It has already caused way too much unnecessary drama.

Plus, I just kissed Fred fucking Weasley.

My clothes are sticking to my skin and I'm still dripping from head to toe, which just adds to my distress, but I don't let it stop me as I run back to the castle. I hear Fred calling after me but I don't turn to look back at him. I am way too embarrassed and frustrated at myself to do so.

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #writing #imagine your ocs #writers on tumblr #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley scenario

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 11 months

Note

Hey I had a dream last night and I need it written in a long post. I never like Sihtrics wife in the show and I had a dream that Sihtric was married before could be dunholm or another time but he leaves his wife and later after his wife in the show leaves him he finds his first wife and he wa to want win her back. I want her to take him but not after revealing all the anger at him leaving her.

Warnings: suggestive, fear of losing someone, heartbreak.

Pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

Summary: see request!

Word count: 6,6k

Note: thank you for this request! I hope it's what you dreamt of ;)

Taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @heimtathurs @bubbles-for-all-of-us @valeskafics @andakth

'Because he saw something he wishes to reclaim.'

********************

Gods, you loved him, your husband, Sihtric, Kjartan's bastard son. That stunning young man who sat outside your doorstep, he was all yours.

You smiled softly as you watched him cleaning his armour. You loved the way his biceps flexed each time he wrung out the wet rag he was using to polish his leather, and the way he tilted his head to the side a little, sticking out the tip of his tongue as he was judging his own polishing skills.

You were both still young and in love, and had been too when you had rushed into marriage as if there was no tomorrow, a little over a year ago. And as you were foolishly in love, but couldn't afford wedding rings, you both made a small, clean cut onto the top of each other's ring finger. The scar would forever resemble your love for each other and the fact you had bled for each other to make an everlasting connection and memory.

Life in Dunholm was not always easy. Sihtric was eager to leave the place, which you knew. And you were willing to leave with him, just not yet. Not as long as you still had to look after your younger sister. Sihtric knew you couldn't leave her behind, so he agreed to wait a few more years. Once she was old enough and capable of surviving without you, then you and Sihtric would up and leave, to wherever destiny took you, but only if you had enough money and riches to do so.

'What are you cleaning up that armour for, handsome?' you smiled as you walked over to him, 'going somewhere?'

'I am to leave soon, yes,' Sihtric smiled as he looked up at you, his mismatched eyes sending a shiver down your spine as always, 'to infiltrate King Guhtred's camp.'

'Oh, are you?' you grinned when he took your hand, 'what's the mission?'

'I am to kill the king,' he smiled slyly as he pulled you in his lap, 'and to abduct a lord,' Sihtric spoke as he wrapped his arms around you while you straddled his lap, 'and after that I will return to my beautiful wife,' he pecked your lips quickly, 'with all the the silver and gold I've earned, and then we can finally start our family,' he smiled as he leaned in to nuzzle your nose, and he whispered, 'I will put so many pups in you, my love.'

'Easy, warrior,' you giggled and cupped his cheeks, making him look up into your eyes, 'what is this about a family, my sweetest? I thought you didn't want to start a family here in Dunholm.'

'I don't,' Sihtric smiled sweetly and hopelessly in love, 'but we will be able to leave when I come back. We'll have enough riches to do so, my love.'

'Darling,' you sighed and rested your forehead against his, 'you know I can't leave yet. We need to wait a little longer. A few years perhaps, and I will need to know in advance, so I can arrange things for my sister.'

Sihtric sighed and closed his eyes. 'I know,' he said sullenly.

'Don't give me that look, love,' you whispered, 'you know how fast the seasons come and go. We will be ready to leave here before you know it.'

You gave him a reassuring smile before you kissed his lips. And before you knew it he had you picked up in his arms and carried you inside your modest little home, where he threw you onto the fur covered bed, and you knew trouble was coming your way when he climbed on top of you.

'My darling,' Sihtric smiled slyly as he lowered his body down on yours, 'let me have my way with you before I go?' he kissed you eagerly and moved his hands up your tunic, 'I need to leave you with the memory that you're mine,' he pulled your tunic off and gave you a cheeky smile as his hands moved up into your hair, clutching his fists full and giving you a quick, firm tug, 'I need to hear you scream my name before I go, my love, remind everyone else too that you're mine and mine only.'

If there's one thing you loved about Sihtric, it's how he was rather shy and quiet, even with you still, but when he knew he had to leave you for an uncertain amount of time, he always became needier. And wouldn't hide his hunger for you anymore, even allowing you a glimpse of his possessiveness when he longed for you, which made your head spin each time it happened. And you couldn't deny him when he did, as you longed for him all the same.

Your husband loved you wholeheartedly and he would do anything to take you with him once he got the chance to leave his awful place. To leave behind the horrible memories of his past, and to finally make new memories with you somewhere where he would not be reminded of his trauma.

****************

'Come back soon,' you whispered in your husband's ear as he held you tight. It was the morning of his departure, to kill a king and capture a lord, and you were proud of him as well as terrified, 'and come back in one piece, handsome,' you said after you pulled away to look into his eyes.

'Always, my love,' he smiled and kissed you one more time before he had to go, so lovingly and deeply, just like he had done on your wedding day.

'I love you.'

'I love you too,' you whispered, 'all the way to valhalla.'

'To valhalla,' Sihtric replied, pressing his lips onto your temple before he snuck out of your embrace.

You watched him mount upon his horse, smiling at how fierce he looked for his young age, and so beautiful. Sihtric was everything to you. And if you had only known what would happen the next time you saw him again, you would have never let him go that day.

****************

You hadn't heard from Sihtric in a long time. But Dunholm had been spooked when one day the head's of seven men were found outside the fortress, mounted upon a pole. All Kjartan's men who had left with your husband to infiltrate King Guhtred's camp, but there was no sign of Sihtric.

Yet, you mourned him and never expected to see him again. Your husband, your beautiful young warrior, you had no reason to believe he was still alive.

So when you suddenly saw him, years later, amidst the chaos and violence that occurred inside the walls of Dunholm that day, you thought you were looking at his ghost. You wanted to run up to him, to kick and scream at him, but also to hold and kiss him. He was still your husband, afterall. And not a day had gone by where you didn't miss him. You desperately missed his arms around you, and the way he kissed you. You missed how he would shyly look at you whenever you caught him doing something clumsy. You missed the way his cheeks would redden when you'd pull him into bed with you, taking off your clothes while you sat on top of him. And you missed the feeling of his warm skin against yours and the way he'd make love to you. You missed the sound of his soft snoring in the dead of night and the feeling of his hair in your hands. And you missed the sound of his laugh while he'd squint his eyes lightly at you when you told a joke. You missed everything about him. You missed your husband so deeply it hurt.

You watched Sihtric, that beautiful boy, for a moment as you stood on the second floor of the fortress. And just when you wanted to run up to him, you heard the square was being made.

And then it all happened so fast, someone named Ragnar fighting Kjartan, that same Ragnar killing Kjartan and then Thyra being released and reunited with, apparently, her brothers. It all happened but you didn't see a single thing of it. You only had eyes for Sihtric, who did witness all the horrors that day, and your heart broke when you watched his smile make way for shock and pain as he flinched. Your husband was hurting, lost and all alone down there. No one comforted him and it broke you.

Then when everything was over, and he directed his gaze upwards, that's when he saw you, standing on the second floor. And his eyes grew big before he could move. And then you watched how he pushed his way through the crowd, violently and upset after everything, and when he finally stood in front of you, you knew he was not the same boy he was when he had left. He was still young and as handsome as ever, but there was a change. You could already tell before you had spoken to him.

'Darling,' Sihtric's familiar voice sounded as he pulled you towards him, holding you tight as you allowed your tears to fall and your shoulders to shake; releasing years of emotions that you had been hiding from the world and from yourself.

'Where have you been? I thought you were dead,' you said when you finally found the strength to speak.

'My love,' Sihtric said, holding your face in his hands, 'I was captured by Lord Uhtred. Our attack on the camp went wrong. But I quickly saw how good of a leader and warrior the Lord is and I wished to serve him. So I swore my loyalty to him and in return he spared my life. I helped him do all this,' he said proudly with a weak smile, 'for you, my love, so we can leave. You can leave with me today, to Wessex, and we can be together again and start our family.'

Your husband spoke so strongly, so confident and so happily, that he didn't seem to realise you still had your little sister to care for. Of course, she was older now too, but that still didn't mean you could just up and leave right now.

'Sihtric,' you said, shocked, 'I- I can't just leave like that.'

His eyes darted all over your face as his smile faded, 'But why not? Your sister? Is she not old enough now?'

'She is,' you sighed, 'but… I just can't. I am not ready to leave everything behind like that. We always agreed we'd make a plan-'

'I have a plan,' Sihtric interrupted, 'we go to Wessex. You come with me and live in Wessex.'

'And live with Saxons? Sihtric,' you shook your head and stepped away from him, hurt, 'no. No, that is not what I want. I am a Dane, like you, w-we will always be frowned upon by Saxons.'

'But I made an oath, I have to go back to Wessex.'

'That is not what you promised me,' you cried, 'and I need a little more time too I can't just… just... and Wessex? Sihtric, I believe it is a nice place, but I- I don't belong there.'

'There is no time,' he said quietly, 'and I don't belong here.'

You gasped at his words and felt yourself become sick. You were torn between the love of your life and the only family you had left, knowing that if Sihtric could just give you a few more days, maybe you could work it all out. You knew your sister did not want to leave, so before you left, you had to make sure she was capable of living on her own. It was not something you could decide right now.

'Sihtric!'

'Yes, Lord!' your husband yelled back to the man who stood in the middle of the town's square.

'We are leaving! So kiss your whore goodbye, you will find plenty in Wessex,' the man laughed.

'Yes, Lord!' Sihtric answered, ashamed, not being able to look into your eyes. He had not defended his wife against the insult of being called a whore, and he would never forgive himself, but he knew he could not stay and that you could not leave with him. So making you hate him seemed the best thing he could do, making it easier for you to move and forget about him, hoping you'd find someone who could make you happy eventually.

You felt the tears rolling down your face as you watched Sihtric, who was anxiously rubbing the scar on his ring finger as he tried to control his emotions for what he was about to say next.

'I don't belong here,' Sihtric said again, 'and I-I,' he stammered and swallowed hard, 'I-I don't belong with you.' And with those words he turned and walked away.

And you will always remember how you watched him ride out of Dunholm, not even glancing back at you.

And the first time you'd see him again would be years after Uhtred had finally reclaimed Bebbanburg.

******************

You decided to stay in Northumbria all this time, and after your sister had sadly passed away due to the sickness, you had travelled around. Spending some years in Jorvik and Cumbria, never feeling really at home anywhere without Sihtric. Throughout the years you caught wind that he got married to someone else and that he was a father. You'd lie if you said you were happy for him. You were not ashamed to say you were bitter. He was supposed to be your husband and the father to your children. He was supposed to kiss you good night each evening and to honour your body with his lips, which you missed so much you feared it would simply kill you one day.

He was supposed to be yours. Not hers, whoever she was. But despite the way you desperately longed for him, you never forgave him for the way he had just left you.

Eventually, after years of moving around and still being as bitter as the first day, you returned to Dunholm again. Dunholm had seen several Lords in the time you had lived there before you travelled, so you weren't surprised to hear that, about a year ago, Dunholm had once again another Lord apparently.

You quickly found a place for you to live at and after a few weeks you felt at home again, albeit still without the man who had never managed to escape your heart.

*****************

About a year ago Sihtric became the Lord of Dunholm on his own accord, several months after Uhtred had finally reclaimed Bebbanburg. Like Uhtred, Sihtric was strangely happy to be back where he was born, despite all the history, and he was eager to make it a better place with better people.

Sihtric's wife had left him one year before he became a Lord, and she had taken the children with her. He had no idea where she was, but if he was honest, he didn't care either. Not a day had gone by that he didn't regret leaving you. And every time he'd enter new land, he'd quietly ask around for you, but no one knew who you were or where you were. His then wife eventually found out how he was asking around for you, which she didn't take well for obvious reasons. And when he accidentally called her by your name while he humped her, she took all her stuff, and the kids, and left. Which he couldn't blame her for. But he also couldn't blame himself for always thinking of you when he bedded her, and he was surprised he had managed to keep your name from spilling out so long. He did care for his second wife, but he never loved her, not the way he had loved you. And if it wasn't for their children, he would have left her already before she finally left him. After a period of feeling a little lost, he gradually healed up and then made way to Dunholm. And he didn't expect you to be there still, but he couldn't deny he felt his heart break when he heard you had left a long time ago.

******************

About a year had passed, after becoming Lord, when Sihtric rode in on his horse through Dunholm's gates. He came back late evening after having visited Uhtred in Bebbanburg. And as he looked around at the rather quiet town, greeting a few locals who were still up, he suddenly caught a glimpse of you in the far distance. And he couldn't believe it. He immediately dismounted his horse and quietly chased after you.

******************

You felt uneasy as you walked back home late one evening after your work. You had moved back to Dunholm a few weeks ago and things had gone decent. You quickly found a job at the blacksmith, who was an old but friendly man, and you simply cleaned up after his work day and made sure everyone paid the man what they owed him. It was easy and a quick way to make some money.

You usually felt safe inside the walls of Dunholm, but tonight you couldn't shake the feeling someone followed you, but every time you glanced over your shoulder, you saw no one behind you. In the distance you had seen someone enter through the gates on a horse, which was unusual this late, and you felt a little worried. You decided to take a detour home, through a narrow alley which led to your street. If you were being followed you would surely find out here, as there was no way to hide.

***************

Sihtric smiled and cursed quietly when he saw you sneak into the alley. He knew that you felt someone was following you, and he also knew you took this route on purpose to find out if your gut feeling was right. He wasn't sure how he would approach you. He never even thought he'd see you again. But when he caught that glimpse of you, after so many years, he immediately became hungry. So hungry for you. And he was enjoying the chase. He would have you again, he knew he would eventually, so he played along and followed you into the alley.

He stopped when he saw you stood still in the middle of the narrow alley, your back turned to him. He snuck closer to you as you didn't move, but he knew to stay out of arm's reach, because he was the one who had taught you how to strike when someone attacked you from behind.

'Who are you and what do you want?' you asked fiercely. You weren't scared of whoever followed you, you knew you were a decent fighter, your husband had taught you, so it just annoyed you that someone would even think of trying something.

You heard the chaser clear his throat behind you, giving away that he had closed in on you, and you slowly reached for the knife that was tucked up your sleeve as you kept your back turned.

'I am the Lord of Dunholm,' a soft but deep voice spoke, sending shivers down your spine. You would swear the man sounded like Sihtric. Your husband. But the boy you had married didn't have such a deep voice yet when he had left. As you weren't really sure, you held the knife in your hand, in case the stranger tried something, and you turned around slowly.

'Why is the Lord of Dunholm following a woman in the dark?' you snapped, not being able to see the Lord's face as it was too dark and the moonlight only reached up to his waist.

'Because he saw something he wishes to reclaim,' the man sighed, sending another shiver down your spine as you swore you heard Sihtric's accent. The accent that used to weaken your knees in a heartbeat, the same as you felt now. But that would be impossible. Your Sihtric would never return to Dunholm. Would he?

'To reclaim?' you scoffed and took a step closer, holding the knife in your hand, covered by your cloak but ready to strike when needed, 'I do not belong to anyone, Lord, so you must mistake me for someone else,' you hissed.

'Is that so?' the man nearly snarled as he, too, stepped towards you, allowing the moon's light to reveal his face.

And the reveal had startled you, causing your knife to slip out of your hand, landing with a thump on the ground beneath your feet. You quickly took a step away, which made your back clash into the wall of the narrow alley. And as the man took another step closer, towering above you with his face inches away from yours, you once again thought you were looking at Sihtric's ghost.

You gasped upon seeing the recognisable features on the man's pale, moonlit, skin. The sharp cheekbones, the scar you knew Sihtric had on his forehead, and those perfect, mesmerising mismatched eyes. It was undoubtedly Sihtric. Your Sihtric. But he was, like you, much older now. He was a man. And gods, what a beautiful man he had become. His body was impressive, muscular, and his hair was long, loose, and wild, and the moon gave away a scar he had earned on his cheekbone after he had left you, which made him look even more ravishing to you while he looked so enchanting in the pale light.

Your body trembled when his nose nearly touched yours as he looked down into your eyes, trapping you between the wall and his body as he pressed himself against you.

'Because,' Sihtric said, 'I remember I bled for you and you bled for me,' he chuckled lightly as he bit down on his lip. His voice was dangerous and playful. A tone you had loved when he was your young husband, but a tone you had never heard accompanied by the low, smooth and deep voice he had now, along with his confidence you never knew he had. He was no longer that shy boy who you had married, you saw it in his eyes and you felt it in his hands as they moved up the back of your neck, into your hair, eagerly grabbing both fists full with your locks to give you a quick, firm pull, making your head spin just as it had done when you were younger too.

Sihtric was hungry for you, so hungry, for he had missed you so much. And he was desperate to hold you in his arms, kissing you gently and sweetly, but first he had to claim you again. He had to remind you that you were his and his only. And he wanted to hear you scream his name, for he wondered if it would still sound the same. And he also wanted to make you scream out his name so everyone in Dunholm would, once again, know you were his.

Once you had processed the initial shock of seeing Sihtric in front of you, and finally felt the way he kept his grip on your hair as he looked down into your eyes, licking his parted lips as he breathed heavily, awaiting your reply to him with a grin, you composed yourself to speak.

'I do not belong to anyone,' you hissed again, nudging his lips with yours as you brought your face closer for a second, making Sihtric tremble shortly as a low groan escaped his mouth.

'But you do, darling,' his voice raspy as he moved one hand down to grab your hand, 'you're mine,' Sihtric said as he held up your hand, tracing the scar on your ring finger with his rough thumb while his other hand tugged your hair again as he spoke, 'you belong to me. You belong with me.'

And you did belong to him. You wanted to belong to and with him, as you always felt you had. And you were dying to feel him again. All of him, everywhere. You wanted to feel him on you and inside you. You were desperate to find out what this man would do to you if you let him have his way with you now. You had loved it when you were both young, for you thought his body was impressive then, but the boy you had married was merely a puppy compared to the beast of a man who held you in his grip now. You wanted him to claim you, you would beg for it, but not yet. No. No, you would make him beg for it. Make him beg for you. You would not let him off so easily for the way he had hurted you all those years ago. Like him, you also weren't the same anymore. You had lived without him for so long, you could resist him a little longer, making sure he was worth giving in to.

'Gods' you chuckled as you scoffed, 'that is rich coming from the man who said he didn't belong with me before he turned his back to me and left, off to marry someone else.' You stared intensely into his eyes, letting him know he would not have you, not tonight. And besides, he was married. And he had children. What was he even thinking?

'And that is a regret I will be buried with,' he hissed, pressing his body roughly against yours again, 'I never stopped thinking about you.'

'Yet you remarried,' you said, bored, bucking your hips slightly to create space between your bodies. Making Sihtric moan again as he felt your hips roll against his.

'I never loved her the way I loved you,' he grunted at the loss of your body pressed onto his own.

'Yet you became a father to her pups,' you yawned, rolling your eyes.

Sihtric was getting riled up, he was so desperate for you. And you would have found it amusing if you weren't so desperate for him either. But you couldn't let him know.

'And she left me years ago and took the children after your name fell from my lips as I came inside her,' Sihtric tugged your hair again and tried to push back against you, but he abruptly stopped with a hiss. And his lips curled into a smile when he felt the dagger you had hidden up your other sleeve press onto his waist.

'That's a good wife,' he smirked as he eyed you up and down quickly, 'my wife,' he chuckled mischievously.

'I am not your wife,' you hissed and forced him to take a step back as you pressed your knife lightly into his tunic, making a small cut as you did, 'not anymore.'

'Then I will make you my wife again,' Sihtric said, taking his hands off you and holding them up while stepping backwards, until his back collided with the wall as you kept him at knife point.

'Will you?' you smiled playfully, running your hand up his thigh, making your ex husband's breath quiver.

'I will, gods, I swear it,' he moaned as you cupped his hardness through his breeches.

'Hm,' you chuckled, rubbing your hand firmly over his groin, 'I almost forgot how big you are,' you lied.

'It's all yours, my love,' Sihtric said with ragged breath, 'don't think I forgot how tight you are.'

'Yeah?' you smiled, tracing the tip of your knife up to his throat, 'you want to feel that again?'

'I will gladly die for it.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah,' he hissed, desperate for you.

'Good,' you said, abruptly dropping your smile as you lowered your knife while stepping back, 'because you have a better chance of dying than ever feeling me again.'

And with those words you picked up the knife you had dropped and you walked away, home, without Sihtric. Who needed a good while to come back to his senses before he stepped out of the alley, back to his home, without you.

And once back home, apart from each other, you both broke down in tears once the adrenaline had worn off.

******************

The next morning you were woken up early by knocking on your door. You wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and opened up, finding Sihtric standing at your doorstep. He looked rather rough, you thought, but still handsome as ever. And his appearance made you feel flustered, now that you got to take a better look at him in daylight. You swallowed hard when you saw you still recognised the boy you had once married, but he had turned into the most beautiful grown man now.

'Sihtric,' you sighed, 'why are you here?'

'It's, eh,' he chuckled and smiled sweetly at you, 'you should address me with Lord now, actually.'

'I will never,' you scoffed, and had to bite down on your lip to not fully smile.

'You will,' he smiled. And gods, you had missed that smile. You wanted him back so badly.

'But,' Sihtric continued, 'I'm just here to talk. Nothing else, I swear it.'

You looked at him for a moment before you nodded and let him in.

'Sit,' you motioned towards a stool in your humble home.

'Thank you, lady,' Sihtric said softly as he sat down, 'I just want to apologise.'

'For what?' you frowned as you sat down across from him.

'Well,' he scoffed lightly, 'for everything.'

'Sure, that's an easy way to apologise,' you rolled your eyes.

Sihtric clicked his tongue and shook his head, 'just drop the act,' he suddenly said sternly.

You were startled and impressed at his sudden authoritative tone.

'I am sorry for the way I approached you last night,' he continued, softer, after a short moment, 'it was not the right way. I shouldn't have done it. I had just been looking for you for so long, that when I suddenly saw you,' he looked down and brushed his hand through his long hair, 'I just wanted you,' he said and bit his lip as he looked back up at you. And you could see the lust in his eyes for you was still the same as when he was a boy.

'Why did you leave me like that?' you asked, not hiding the resentment in your voice.

'I had no choice, my love,' those words still melted your ice cold heart, 'I was, and I still am, sworn to Uhtred. Breaking my loyalty would mean my death. Believe me, I wanted to be with you, but you didn't want to leave with me when I just couldn't stay. I-' he paused and took your hands in his, 'my darling,' he said and then dropped his head, keeping quiet for a moment.

You felt his rough thumbs softly stroking the back of your hands as he held them, and before he spoke again he brought your hands to his lips, pecking your skin lovingly.

'I'm so sorry,' his voice trembled, 'I couldn't stay. I just couldn't. I felt the best thing I could do, to soothe your pain, was to make you hate me. To break your heart. At least, I hoped it would make you hate me so it would be easier for you to forget about me.'

'I never forgot about you,' you whispered bitterly, and when Sihtric looked up he saw your eyes had teared up just like his.

'And neither did I,' he continued quietly as he leaned his elbows onto his knees, playing with your fingers when he looked down again, 'you were right. I did marry again after you. I-,' he sighed, 'I just wanted to feel as loved again as you made me feel. And to feel as safe, and as happy. But it never came close. Not even in the slightest,' he said and sat back up, never letting your hands out of his loving grip, 'and yes, I became a father,' he smiled weakly, 'at least I think. I don't even know if they are mine.'

'What?' you frowned.

'I married a whore,' he sighed.

You couldn't help but snort, 'at least that lord of yours was right when he said you'd find another whore in Wessex.'

'He was, wasn't he?' Sihtric also couldn't help but chuckle, but he quickly looked pained again. 'I never stopped thinking about you, my love, never. You were always on my mind. Everyone knew it,' he shook his head with a smile, 'even my wife figured it out.'

'When you said my name while you humped her?' you raised an eyebrow, 'what a surprise.'

'No, that happened later,' he chuckled lightly, 'whenever I entered a new town or passed a fortress, I always asked if anyone knew your name and the way you looked. But no one did. And the few who did know you, did not know where you went after you had left that place.'

'Wait… you looked for me all these years?'

'All these years,' he nodded softly.

'Why?'

'Because I always thought of you as my wife.' Sihtric gently kissed your hands again.

'But you left me.'

'I had no choice.'

'So… what… you just expect me to take you back now?'

'I hope you will.'

'No,' you scoffed, 'no, I- I don't even know you anymore, Sihtric. You have changed, and so have I. And I- I don't even know who you are now.'

'Yes, you do,' Sihtric said softly and smiled cheekily when he looked into your eyes, 'I'm still the same.'

'No,' you had to look away from him to not give in, 'no, you are different now. I mean, what, you are a Lord? And I don't even know where you have been all these years, how life has changed you or how you got all those scars I have never seen before,' you said, not being able to keep yourself from tracing your fingertips over the scar on his cheekbone, making him blush lightly.

'I will tell you everything,' he whispered as he moved closer, holding your hand in his while his other hand settled on your neck, 'please don't make me leave you again.'

'I never made you do anything,' you whispered, lips touching lightly as you spoke, 'you left me. If you had given me a few more days I could have worked it all out. I would have gone with you.'

'You would have gone with me?' Sihtric sighed against your lips.

'Of course I would have, you were my husband.'

'I am your husband. I was always your husband.'

'No,' you pulled away slightly, 'you became some whore's husband and gave the pups that you promised me to her.'

'And I have nothing left of that now, do I?' he said as his hand moved up into your loose hair.

'You expect me to feel sorry for you?'

'Do you belong to someone else?' he asked sternly, gripping your hair the way he likes to, 'is that it? Hm?' he hissed and licked his lips, 'did you marry someone else?'

'No,' you snapped, trying not to give in to him.

You tried to speak as convincingly as you could. And it is true, you never married again after Sihtric, you only bedded several strangers during your travels, but none made you feel the way Sihtric had made you feel, so it was all in vain.

'No? But you let someone else touch you in a way only I am allowed?'

'Yes,' you said firmly. Sihtric huffed and shook his head.

'You expected me to be touch deprived while you were whoring around?'

'You were my wife still.'

'I was not.'

'We never divorced.'

'We divorced the day you humped your second wife.'

Sihtric clicked his tongue, 'you don't understand what it's been like.'

'And neither do you!' you suddenly yelled. And then there was no stopping anymore. 'You! Left! Me!' you continued, breaking away from his grip, 'you left me after you let the entire village hear how your Lord called me a whore, and you didn't even defend me. Me! Your wife!' you punched his chest as your tears started to fall, 'you left without even looking back at me! You didn't even try to ask your Lord if he could give you one or two days so I could go with you, you did nothing, except for walking away! You weren't there when my sister died!' you punched his chest again, and he accepted your anger towards him, 'you promised me in your vows you would always be there for me, but you weren't! You were with your new family! Happily married And I hope it was worth it! Because I was left with nothing but the disgusting memory of you carved onto my ring finger. And believe me, countless nights I have thought of cutting the entire finger off, just so the last thing that reminded me of you would be gone too,' you hissed.

'Don't say that,' Sihtric said darkly, his voice trembling and he clenched his jaw.

'You left me and I wanted you out of my life too! I was never able to move on!'

'I never moved on either! Yes, I had a wife! Yes, I had a family! But do you think I went one night without dreaming of you? One day without looking for you?' he hissed, 'that I went one second without looking at my new wife and not resenting her for not being you, for not even looking like you and not feeling like you, not even in the slightest. Or how I looked at those children, not knowing if they were mine as I held them in my arms after she gave birth, and I could still only hate her for the fact she told me I was a father while it should have been you who told me that!'

'You shouldn't have left me then!'

'I had no choice!'

'You should not have left me that day,' you said slowly.

'I had no other choice,' Sihtric matched your pace as he moved closer to you again.

'I wish I never loved you,' you felt his hands settle on your waist as you lied.

'Loving you was the only thing that kept me alive this long,' he said and his lips touched yours again lightly.

'I wish I never married you,' you lied again.

'I wish to marry you again,' Sihtric whispered down into your mouth.

'I wish I didn't miss you for all this time,' you finally spoke the truth.

'I missed you all this time too,' his hands trailed all over your body, to which you closed your eyes.

'I love you, Sihtric,' you whined, 'gods I love you, all the way to valhalla.'

'I love you too, darling,' he spoke with ragged breath, 'always, every second of my life. It has only been you. To valhalla.'

'I need you,' you cried, 'please,' you begged as you pecked his lips, 'please Sihtric, I need you.'

'I know,' Sihtric sighed, giving in to his needs by pressing his lips against yours, 'I need you too.'

'Don't ever leave me again.'

'I won't, I promise,' he said in between kisses, 'marry me,' he moaned, 'please, marry me again,' his voice was raspy as his hands squeezed your hips.

'I want to,' you said out of breath, 'I do, I want to marry you again.'

'Now,' Sihtric moaned again at the taste of your lips and the touch of your hands, 'marry me, now!'

'Now?' you panted with a slight chuckle, 'it's a Sunday, who on earth will marry us right now?'

'You forget,' he smiled after he kissed you again, 'I am a Lord now. I can make my people do whatever I want. And I want to marry you again, right now,' he kissed the scar on your finger, 'so that's what I will do.'

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk

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hubristicassholefight · 8 months

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Preliminary Round: Revue Starlight

Propaganda below cut

Hikaru

Battle girlfriends with Karen Aijo. Competes in sword fights to decide who is the “top star.” Also sings during these sword fights. Commonly uses swords as props in plays.

Karen

There are so many other Revue Starlight characters I could submit because so many of them have swords (one even has two!) but Karen is the main character and has a sword so I think she deserves this personally. Her sword is, depending on your translation, called either Possibility of Puberty (which I find funnier) or Possibility of Youth (which I prefer but it's also so much less silly)

Nana

She has a double Katana and I think out of all the revue starlight girlies she’s the coolest. I’m sure someone smarter can talk about the symbolism of her swords. Regardless of that tho, she’s so strong even if she doesn’t appear as a strong contender, she won a sword fight competition for 60 times in a row resulting her creating a time loop. If that isn’t cool enough she has an entire fight with epic music of her taking on her entire class and winning. Like a full 1vs 8 fight and she won and looked so cool doing it; She’s literally the messiest theatre lesbian I’ve ever seen and it shows in her sword fights. Like no one sane would win a sword competition in an underground stage over and over again every year only to use the “wish” to turn back time and repeat it again and again.

Well, she has two swords. BUT this is important cause in revstar, blade length signifies someone's brilliance as an actress. So this immediately means that Nana is overpowered compared to literally everyone else.(oh and she used the swords/brilliance to trap everyone in a time loop due to her childhood loneliness but I don't know how important this is to this poll)

Maya

maya wields a rapier with a white gem, as coordinated to her image colour, for a pommel, named odette the mavericks. the sword is eponymous to its name and significant as to her major motifs—the rapier is forged with a long, slender blade, as well as a golden grip assembled with the shape of a swan’s wings. whilst there are a number of swordswomen within revue starlight, maya undoubtedly takes position zero when it comes to the effortlessness and swiftness of swordsmanship within the revues—effectively winning against a wide majority of her opponents and cutting them down effortlessly, all whilst putting on the greatest performance. https://youtu.be/SX8-exfskeo https://youtu.be/c3rrQpwKwPI (yes, she loses in this one, but her PERFORMANCE is outstanding). a few notable moments of maya’s swordswomanship throughout the revues are, The LIVE #1, in which, during a revue against saijou claudine, she uses mavericks to stab her in the shoulder and cut down the button of her pelisse jacket, achieving position zero and winning said revue. https://ibb.co/kSWjvFX Starry Diamond, in which, during a revue teamed with daiba nana, she effectively cut down her opponents and decided to further cut down nana as to further achieve position zero on her own—cutting into both of nana’s arms before soon removing the button from her pelisse jacket, as well. https://streamable.com/fx1edd The LIVE #3, in which she is set against three separate opponents, each with varying weapons—longsword, axe, bow and arrow—and continued to best all three of them simultaneously. https://streamable.com/gp430d https://streamable.com/n8tucw https://streamable.com/c7roo1 https://streamable.com/syno6z . . . and, again, everything about THIS revue. https://youtu.be/c3rrQpwKwPI

Claudine

A simple design, the handle a gold. Someone has stated that it looks like a Lego sword if you shrunk it and I think that's funny. Saijo Claudine throws her sword in one episode to help another character get higher and I think that's cool; She's french and is aligned with silver and her rival is always first place but Claudine is also really good and her sword deserves more attention 🤙🤙

#shoujo kageki revue starlight #revue starlight #hikari kagura #karen aijou #nana daiba #maya tendou #claudine saijou #official #poll #swordswoman showdown #prelims

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ackerfics · 1 year

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somewhere in the lock universe: aot

— we have a personal factory in our house.

eren jaeger x female reader

gone are the days where the walls reflect childish laughter and shenanigans. ezra already graduated college and started applying for masters, aran is nearing his own graduaton, and caspian is officially a sophomore in university. ezra has a place he can call his own, a studio apartment near his chosen university (though he still comes home if the weekend is empty of any workload) while the other two are still residents of their quaint, chaotic home). the kids are all grown up and you have all the time with eren. your husband has been thinking of going on a trip twice a month to truly get away from things. with the children older than they were, it requires more get-togethers for the extended family to remind them that family is the one thing a person doesn't lose.

it's one of those get-togethers after a thorough re-decorating in the jaeger household that caspian first thinks of throwing his little cousin to the newly-installed pool in their backyard.

"i never knew you guys have this many medals and awards here," mikasa notes while staring at the entire wall of glinting golds and silvers just for your three children. "where did you get all of these?"

"i did a little cleaning here and there," you answer.

"more like had a rampage," eren snorts.

you glare at him. he chuckles and plants a kiss on your forehead to erase the furrowed look.

"are you like a factory of medals or something?" sasha exclaims, jaw slackening at the display. "i know you have little geniuses but this," she gestures at the wall, "is madness! the most i got as a kid was a ribbon for being the most resourceful!"

"well," eren gloats.

"shut up, eren." mikasa rolls her eyes. "don't even make me list your awards."

"i got a trophy for every sport i play!"

"that's not academic achievement."

"woah! that's a lot of shiny things."

marigold, mikasa and sasha's daughter, tilts her head to assess the medals. the space at the far left probably has the most awards, the graduation portrait at the top showcasing a charming smile that is basically the male version of you. marigold remembers asking for her big cousin, ezra, for any help with homework. next to his space is aran's, his portrait that of a high school graduation, which will be replaced in a few months with his university one. aran is the definition of someone who has it easy. studying is easy for him, even the exams he take; one would say he's a genius at this point. and then, the last space confuses marigold. if there's an abundance of shiny circles below the other two, there's only a handful underneath caspian's. instead, there are three trophies that he received for being the mvp of the many sports he played and a couple of medals for winning a tournament. safe to say, caspian is a carbon copy of his father; looks and achievements and all.

marigold stares at the said boy, who grows to be taller than you now. he looks a lot like eren when the man was the same age as him, minus the emo long hair.

caspian is busy tapping something on his phone when he feels the wide-eyed stare boring on his skull. he slowly turns his head, only to find the creepiest little shit calling for him wordlessly. marigold is an adorable kid, yes, and caspian loves her, but when she does that thing ... caspian is convinced she's going to dethrone anabelle the creepy doll.

"what?" he asks.

the little girl blinks.

caspian looks around for the adults before knitting his eyebrows at her. "what is it, goldie?"

"how come you have the least medals on here?" she points at the wall.

ezra chokes on his soda, aran's jaw drops, helene gasps, and every adult in the house stops talking to each other.

caspian blinks at the sudden question. he puts down his phone on his lap.

"we ran out of gold."

ezra snorts and his chuckles become full-blown laughter at his baby brother's dry response. even aran bites his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

"now, did that answer your question? yes? okay." and just like that, he goes back to tapping on his phone, cheering lightly when his character didn't die while being in idle motion.

"don't plot anything, cassie," aran teases.

"i'm not."

"i bet he's thinking of throwing her in the pool," ezra snickers.

"..."

it's silent for one minute until, "goldie, let's go for a swim."

#— rory's passages 🌼#— lock/encanto au <3 #— do NOT THINK OF THROWING CHILDREN IN THE POOL T^T #attack on titan eren #eren yeager #eren aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #aot x you #eren x fem!reader #eren x reader #eren x you #eren jeager x reader #eren fluff

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bemycoffeepot · 20 days

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oh bestie please share some books on your tbr! (as if my tbr needed more books lmao) and ofc the one you're currently reading!

OH MY GOSH I'M REALLY ABOUT TO DO THIS

as long as it just stays between us (and well Tumblr) ;)

But honestly SECRET, sending love to wherever you are because this is one of my favorite subjects <3 hihihihihi

some favs of mine, that I've already read:

Morning Glory by Lavyrle Spencer: cried literally from just how healthy and beautiful their whole relationship was. Western/WW2. Beautiful writing. Flawed characters. This book was a 12/10 at least. BUT NOT KU UNFORTUNATELY :(

Against A Wall by Cate C Wells THIS BOOK HERE IS NARUTO FROM AGAIN. HE IS MY INSPIRATION, MY MUSE, MY EVERYTHING. MY HIMBO!! Love Cash more than life itself. AND IT'S KU ;)

Win Some, Lose Some : MMC on the spectrum, high-school setting, 18, such a healthy lovely relationship. Loved her and loved him. Only MMC's perspective.

Real Players Never Lose by Micaela Smeltzer. He's sweet and hot and a college jock but intelligent and loves his plus-size baddie to bits.

Beast in Shining Armor by Cassandra Gannon. I just loved them. He was beautiful, mean, but so, so in love with her. Enemies-to-Lovers but make it i-loved-you-since-we-were-just-kids. Fantasy, crazy writing, awesome setting.

Bass-Ackwards by Eris Adderly. I won't say anything just age-gap and not ethical. But awesome. Read at you orn risk heheheh

Nine Minutes by Beth Flynn. This is a trilogy and has no business being this good. THE PLOT WAS HEAVY WILD CRAZY AND A WHOLE FUCKING LOT. But it all made sense!!!!!!! Warning though: it's underage.

Dear Grumpy Boss by Julia Wolf. This is sweet with some light angst. Plus-size baddie and hot, rich brother's best friend.

Honestly everything by Claire Kent. Short novellas, lots and lots of smut but holy goodness. 3rd POV. Personally, love her writing, not everyone does though.

Last Light by Claire Kent Embers by Claire Kent (age-gap but make it my-dead-boyfriend's-dad-old. He's literally her dead boyfriend's dad HAHAHA. Post-apocalypse. Just surviving. He's hot in his very own way but oh well, Kent's writing is special in its really weird way. It's kind of a hit or miss hihihi)

Haven by Claire Kent (he's hooooooot and responsible?! i'm always in for that ;)) Hold by Claire Kent (just love it. it's in a kind of sci-fi setting but honestly, Kent's writing is solely focused on the relationship it doesn't really feel like sci-fi) Fall by Claire Kent (this here ladies and gentlemen... DON'T SHOOT ME, HE'S A CAVEMAN. A REAL FUCKING CAVEMAN. I think I need to see a psychiatrist because holy macaroni, this story shouldn't have made me feel so many things. And well, keep in mind he's a caveman in a prehistoric setting... She's not... The dynamic is special)

A Soul To Keep: fantasy and well he's absolutely not human. SIX FREAKING PAGES TO DESCRIBE HIS DICK!!!!! but so so sweet. He just wants to be loved and love.

Consider Me by Becka Mack: adorable read

Not KU unfortunately but awesome, awesome books:

Eyes of SIlver, Eyes of Gold. Beautiful, healthy relationship. Plot is 12/10. I loved him and her just so much. They work together and we see there relationship develop in a way that's incredible. I would literally give anything to re-read this book for the very first time.

Lord of Scoundrels : beauty and the beast, regency. loved it. Not on KU :( but it's worth buying honestly...

Happiness for Beginners by Katherine Center

GURLLL, i've got so many more!!!!! I'm gonna stop myself now because maybe you'll see this and will only think wtf is this girl reading....

BUT NOW YOU HAVE TO INTRODUCE ME TO YOUR WORLD OF the BRIDGERTONS!!!!!! I NEED SOME RECOMMENDATIONS!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3

Me, after posting this:

I'm gonna hide now.

<3 <3 <3

#ku

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strix-mix · 25 days

Text

I know this is just a skill issue but i have yet to have a good experience playing sendouq as someone relatively new to comp splatoon and here's my reasoning

This is a long one so strap in

So, I've been wanting to get more into the competative side of splatoon since splatoon 2, I got super into watching top level players like Chara and DUDE and wanted in on it

By splatoon 3 I was getting way better results with my favorite weapon, Range Blaster, and found some new favorites that happened to be pretty good, the splatanas, so hearing about SendouQ, an alternative to playing Anarchy or X battles for "any rank of player" to find scrims and yknow play with voice chat or on the same team with a friend, I thought "oh that's great I can finally get into the real competative and maybe make some friends along the way"

So I joined the qeue, asked to join some groups to make a team, and waited, a bit longer than I hoped but i had no games under my belt yet so that was to be expected. Once we were in we were assigned as being an iron team, the lowest rank, and we would go against a silver team, the next highest. Now these scrims are played in a best of 7 format, we play until one team gets 4 wins and then that team wins the set.

So, we played like, 5 games and lost, no big deal, but I noticed my team were really bummed about it and we didn't really joke around much so that kinda soured the set, the next we got carried by a platnum player and we won 4 games in a row, kinda boring but it happens.

Next 2 sets we lose after spending 20 minutes waiting for team invites to be accepted, waiting for another team to play against which most likely wasn't a team we would be evenly matched against, usually silver or gold players, and then being bullied for 4-6 games before moving onto the next scrim, not to mention I sometimes was forced to play cooler support, a role I do not enjoy playing because I don't particularly like any of the cooler weapons too.

And then the last one I ever played, the same SendouQ routine happened, except the previous times I at least had the luxury of having 3 cordial, patient teammates, this time I did not. I got yelled at, and then the person who yelled at me then started ranting to the rest of the team in german, mind you, the reason that particular teammate was so pissed off is that we were losing, mainly because of mistakes made by me, the cooler support, the one who didn't fucking even want to play support and was only now just picking up bucket for these sets.

And thats when it dawned on me. None of these 5 scrims yet were evenly matched. Either my team would be shitstomped or we got lucky with who accepted our invite, none of these scrims had me face an iron team, nor did I ever make any new friends from them, so I'm just left with a feeling of getting my ass beat with nothing to show for it, only to wait for the next assbeating to commence. And then sometimes I don't even get to play what I want to play or even what I feel comfortable with. Sometimes I'd get forced into the support role and cost us the game cause I don't play support, and then I'd get yelled at when I don't play a weapon I had 30 seconds to get used to well?? How the hell is this for all levels of play?

To say that is just a lie. Yeah its not like you need to be S+ or have a certain X power to participate, but I was not able to get into a game where I wasn't way less mechanically skilled than everyone else, you might as well be gatekeeping less skilled players because I could not compete whatsoever. It simply was not fun in the slightest.

It wouldn't even be a problem if it weren't for the fact that this is the ONLY WAY to play in a competative setting with VC, or communication in general, and the only way to play comp with friends. The point I'm trying to make is this:

Don't play games competatively

#splatoon #i know i complain a lot about this game but i just wish it was better #also i keep hearing that sendouq is for all skill levels when its just not #i wanted to share my horrible experience with it because of that

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maremote · 1 year

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Black Sails Monologuolympics BR4.1: SILVER'S MONOLOGUES: ROUND 1 🥈

11/12: 207 vs 405

Silver, to Max, in 207: "Trust is a funny thing. When pledged my support to Captain Flint, believed the trust between us to be of the strongest kind. We both desperately wanted the same thing. And that makes for good partners. But over the past few days, it's become clear to me that the prize we both wanted is becoming less a prize to him and more an obstacle. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? The Urca gold. I have feared for days that Flint might not want that gold to ever be found, that it would interfere with plans he held more important than gold, more important than wealth. And have felt the ground rushing towards us ever since. And my greatest fear has been that in the moment he decided to end the hunt for the Urca gold, the moment he decided it was in his interest to betray my trust... that he would find a way to do so by deception, by force, by who the fuck knows how. But whatI do know is that he would ask my help to make it happen. And by that point, the gold would be as good as gone. Any resistance offered would be futile and would be just another tool that he'd used and then promptly discarded. [...] A few hours ago, a launch arrived. Two of our men who were scouting the Urca gold were returning to the island against their instructions. You see, they had been told very clearly by Captain Flint to remain with the Urca until we arrived to help us prepare our assault on the Spanish beach. So the moment saw them approaching, my first thought was that the only reason they'd be returning early was if the gold was no longer there. And thought, "My God... did Flint do this? Through some kind of luck or guile or fucking sorcery, did he reach across an ocean and make $5 million in gold vanish?"

Silver, to Hands, in 405: "Sooner or later, that cache is going to arrive, and there'll be no more delaying. I'm committed to Flint. I'm committed to Madi. Yet the road they intend to travel is one l'm losing the ability to understand. know what Billy's done... what should be unforgivable... and yet till so very recently, there's no one in the world called a closer friend. The more he talks, the more remember why. To turn on him now, to have him killed... which is what it would take to side with Flint... seems like something.. don't know have it in me to do."

BRACKET FOUR ROUND ONE // BRACKET FOUR // ALL POLLS

#bsm #bsm4 #bsm41 #og #black sails #he looks so funny in the 207 screencap lmfao #looks SO annoying. god bless.

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bafflement · 1 year

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Deaged Oz AU - Oh, Jaques? RUN

Oz looked massively uncomfortable in the silver and dark blue clothing Winter had forced him into. Even though he was very aware that the point of this was to encourage the merge, he did not want to be anywhere near the Schnee manor. Especially not considering the promise he had made to Adam Taurus regarding the fate of Jaques Schnee.

"I am aware he invited you, Winter. But why exactly do you wish me to come along? I have no memories of the manor and I have actually been there before. Nothing triggered then, why would it trigger now?" He preferred not to think about what had happened the last time he'd been to one of these events, since he had spent most of the night glaring at Jaques Schnee... at least now he had an idea of just what may have triggered what had, at the time, felt like a rather irrational hatred of the man.

"You know there are things to remember now. Besides, the other person in your soul told me it might be a good idea to try. He really does not wish to absorb you. Nor would I wish you to disappear, uncle."

"But why blue? I know it's the Schnee color, but still... shouldn't the point be to bring less attention to this, not more?"

"Considering the color schemes of my father's parties, blue will draw far less attention than dark green would. Besides, the less attention on you, the easier it will be to find proof that my father actually had a hand in fixing the election."

Oz looked down, biting his lip slightly.

"What if we're right, Winter? The timing of my own kidnapping is suspicious considering your father's actions following that and my brother's death, what if he actually was involved in this?"

"Then there will be proof." Winter's voice wavered slightly, but she swallowed and continued. "IF he is, and it's a very big if, then at least that means that he deserves whatever fate you've planned for him?"

Oz stared at her, getting a flat look in response.

"I'm not stupid, uncle, I'm very well aware that you have some sort of plan to deal with him. Considering the implications if you are right... you do realise every kingdom was looking for the Infinite Man? The things Atlas could have accomplished..."

Oz shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I'm just a man, Winter, not even a very good one."

Winter looked unimpressed. "Quoting from that story isn't going to win you any points, you know... besides, isn't your relative worth a matter of opinion? You're a good man, Wintertip Pine."

"No. I'm not. But I think we may have to agree to disagree." His hand wandered up to his collar again, it still felt far too tight, the embroidery itching against his skin.

"Try not to fiddle with your collar. The sooner this is over, the sooner you can change out of it. I promise, if this goes right, you'll never have to wear it again."

Oz pouted. At least the coat was more or less a replica of his normal one, only done in a pewter gray and sapphire as opposed to soft gold and emerald. But the shirt was heavily embroidered with silver thread and felt wrong against his skin, the silvery wooden sheath Winter had found for Long Memory felt wrong in his hands. Part of him rebelled against the pretense and he worried that it might be that tiny fragment that was still Winter Schnee inside. Something was wrong, something that Jaques Schnee had been a part of.

Was he right? Was the timing too suspect, the death and kidnapping too convenient? It was very obvious that Jaques had desperately wanted the company after all... had he truly gone to that sort of lengths to get it? Nicolas Schnee's health had certainly gone into a steep decline after losing his sons, but could even Jaques have been that cruel? What would it do to Winter and Weiss, if he had been? Whitley and Willow, too... if he could so easily sacrifice others for his goals, what could he do to those he had left to control?

"I don't feel ready for this. But then, I never will, will I? The party to celebrate his questionable victory is tonight, there isn't a better time for it."

"You really don't want to do this, do you?"

"I fear that there may be other things at play that we cannot see. Look at Robyn's party..."

"Maybe. But either way, we need to be there. The probability is that he will be happy to see you. The brother in law that is not in fact dead. The possibility of him being horrified exists, but he is still my father. I prefer not to damn him without cause."

"And I fully understand that. I just... worry."

Oz was just as uncomfortable standing in the foyer of the frankly ridiculous mansion as he feared he would be. The sapphire and silver clothing he wore still felt ostentatious, but the surroudings were at least at a different enough level that he could relax slightly. He felt better for being armed, for all that Long Memory was still disguised, it was there. Bringing a weapon into a place like this, which conspired to make him feel even smaller than he usually did, was certainly a good idea.

Whitley sauntered up, eyeing his sister disinterestedly, before focusing solely on Oz. "Greetings, welcome to Schnee manor. Although, if you are a guest of my sister, you have shown rather poor taste so far. Ah well, you're young and you may yet learn better. I'm Whitley, by the way. You are?"

"Wintertip Pine." Oz stated, looking rather uncomfortable. "This place is... very, very big."

"It suits us. Is this your first time being in this sort of environment? Let me show you around. You're young, you really need to respect your elders."

Oz glanced at Winter, who looked amused. So, no help there, then.

Reluctantly, he followed Whitley, who proceeded to point out people and artworks almost as though both were of equal importance. Nothing about this place felt the slightest bit familiar to Oz. But then, if Jaques had altered it then it might not. His reluctance must have shown on his face, since Whitley picked up on it. "If you don't want to follow me, then don't. But I'm older than you, I know best."

"Appearences may be rather deceiving." Oz muttered to himself. "If you wish to make friends, maybe start without trying to order me around?"

Whitley rolled his eyes, looking for his father. Jaques wasn't exactly hard to spot, even in the crowd.

"Ah, father? Meet Wintertip Pine. He had the poor taste to show up alongside my sister, however I believe I may have got to him in time."

Jaques eyes swept Oz. He looked bored for a second before his eyes widened and he visibly started to sweat. He blinked, looking again, then quickly excused himself. "My apologies son, I have other people I need to meet. Welcome to your... little friend, however."

Across the room, Winter's eyes narrowed. Well, that was certainly confirmation of something.

Oz watched Jaques beat a hasty retreat, feeling vaguely sick. Next to him, Whitley made confused noises for a second before realising Oz looked less than surprised.

"Alright. Who are you, really? My father does not run away."

"I fear he might." Oz murmured softly. "At least when confronted by ghosts. Whitley? Would it be possible to meet your mother? I fear it may be rather important."

"Not without telling me who you are. My mother is delicate."

"I really am Wintertip Pine. But I was once known as Winter Schnee. I worry that your father might have something to do with that."

Whitley stared. "You're younger than me yet you claim to be my uncle? You do know that isn't actually possible, right?"

Oz sighed. "Magic is real. I can show you later in less crowded circumstances if you wish for proof. However as it stands, I really do need to speak with your mother."

"... I am going to hold you to that. Follow me." Whitley led the way up the stairs in a daze, Oz following close behind. Winter met them at the top, nodding to Whitley and smiling at Oz.

"Hello again, sister. I assume you also wish to speak to mother?" Whitley sounded very fed up at this point. Winter just nodded and followed the two boys down the hall. Any staff they ran into recognised Whitley and Winter, of course, though a few of the older ones blinked at Oz in confused recognition as he passed.

"Mother should be through that door, forgive me if I do not join you." Whitley wandered back down the hall towards the party, looking rather like he hoped the whole encounter was some massive hallucination.

Winter opened the door. Her mother sprawled in a chair on the other side, a bottle of wine in her hand. She looked up on her daughter's entrance, then froze as Oz followed her in, looking at the bottle in her hand as though it had personally betrayed her.

"I haven't drunk enough to hallucinate you yet, baby brother. So kindly go away? I'll speak with you and Nicky later."

Oz looked appalled. "Is she always like this?" He asked Winter in a hushed voice, that nonetheless travelled in the small room. Willow's eyes sharpened slightly. Obviously his question was outside the sphere of her usual hallucinations.

"Who are you?" She demanded. "How dare you pretend to be my baby brother?" Even as she glared at him, Winter moved in front, shielding him without even really meaning to.

"Mother? I know this is strange to believe, but this really is uncle Winter... a temporal semblance was involved, you see."

The glance she threw Oz was vaguely apologetic, though technically speaking she wasn't lying. Oz's presence did mean that his semblance was technically involved after all.

Willow stared at Oz. She blinked, shook her head and blinked again, but the image of her brother didn't change.

"Winny?" She murmured, sounding tearful. "Is that really you?"

"So I've been told. I do not actually remember you, though I'm sorry to say that. But yes, it's me."

Willow kept staring. "You... don't remember me?"

"I don't really remember anything. I was hoping you might be able to help. I really am Winter Schnee. I just... there's so much I don't know, Willow Tree." He blinked, he hadn't meant to call her that.

"... you really are Winny. If you call me that, then... I'm so sorry, baby brother."

"You have no need to be sorry, Willow."

"But I am. I never looked for you, I just accepted that you were dead, You were gone, then Nicky got himself killed and Jaques... oh, brothers, Jaques..."

"There's no proof he was involved."

But Willow had already gotten up, looking more determined than Winter had ever seen her. "I have access to the computer systems. If proof exists, it will be there. I failed you once, baby brother. I refuse to do so again."

Oz and Winter exchanged slightly shocked glances before following Willow down the hal to a a room that did, indeed, contain computers. The picture on the wall opposite made Oz stop, though. It was Nicolas Schnee painted beside a silver haired, amber eyed woman that pulled at something deep inside him. There were three children, Willow obvious by her white hair and blue eyes, a stout silver haired boy with equally blue eyes and a slight child, maybe three years old. The eyes that looked at him from the portrait were a match to his own.

Winter followed his gaze and winced, she'd known the picture all her life but the similarities between the youngest boy and Wintertip seemed suddenly, glaringly, obvious. She'd met Ozpin as an adult, though... the similarities would surely still have been there?

Willow knew what she was doing, bringing up records from further and further back as she searched. Jaques was organised... and arrogant... enough to have digitised everything and finally she hit on the messages that would hammer the nails into his coffin.

He had, indeed, instigated Winter Schnee's long ago kidnapping. More, he had been behind the riot that had claimed Nicolas Schnee Junior's life a scarce six months later. Cycling forward it was obvious he was in the habit of making deals with criminal enterprises, too.

Winter looked to Oz, a question in her eyes. Oz nodded. This was all the proof they needed to feel far less guilty over the plan than they might otherwise. That the most recent security videos showed him talking to a man who looked suspiciously like Arthur Watts about fixing the election was just further proof that he needed to die.

Oz sent a quick, coded message from his scroll to Adam Taurus' before meeting his sister's eyes. "We need to get Jaques alone. Will you help us deal with him once and for all?" He could only hope that her hatred for him matched up to the rumors but he refused to lie to his own family. At least that was a line Ozma could not make him cross.

Willow nodded. "I can find reason enough to draw him away. Are you sure you can deal with him though?"

Both Winters exchanged glances. "We both hold hunters licences. There are others around that may be willing to help if needed, but the whole reason hunters exist is to kill monsters. Not all monsters are Grimm." Oz's voice was firm and Willow stared for a second as though trying to place it before shaking her head.

"I cannot help you beyond drawing him away. Please, both of you... don't get yourselves killed? I don't think I could deal with the loss."

Jaques Schnee followed his wife, looking angry. "What's so important that you need to show me now, we're in the middle of a party, dear." His voice promised violence, but he stared at the room he was led to. It wasn't empty. His daughter stood on one side, the ghost he'd rather hoped he had hallucinated next to her. Winter had her swords out and pointed at him, the boy armed with a long stick of some sort of silvery wood. He backed up, only to hear the door lock behind him. This room had always been soundproof by design.

"And what exactly do you expect? Me to be scared of some crippled ghost? I killed you, Winter Schnee. You have no power here. As for my daughter, I own you."

Oz froze briefly, eyes wide at the confirmation, Winter snarling next to him. Coming back to himself, he rotated the cane, drawing Long Memory from its hiding place, knowing even as he did so that Salem would know, now, who he was. He didn't care, some things were more important.

Jaques Schnee watched the cane, eyes narrowed in sudden recognition, searching Oz's face. The silvery hair, the amber eyes, the dark glasses, all the clues were there after all.

"YOU", he snarled, and went on the attack. Unfortunately for him, the outcome was never really in doubt. Once Jaques Schnee lay, beaten and bloody, a third figure, armed with a smoking brand, emerged. Adam Taurus' face was savage.

The screaming lasted for a very long time.

#deaged oz au #ozpin #winter schnee #willow schnee #whitley schnee #adam taurus #jaques schnee #gets all he deserves #this was highly satisfying to write #character death #he deserved it #retribution #dont anger oz #he is smol #but mighty #beware long memory

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tobiasdrake · 11 months

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Orange League, Episode 36 - Rival Showdown! Ash vs. Gary!!

Is this it? Are we finally, finally going to learn what Gary's Starter is and whether or not he still has them? The answer, and this may not surprise you, is no. Gary wants a 1v1; Ash and Gary are both to use the ace of their respective teams in a single duel.

For Ash, that's Pikachu. For Gary? Eevee. This is something of a recursive development for Gary's team, which allows him to sidestep ever committing to an answer on the Starter question.

Pokemon Yellow had been released about a year prior to this episode, which was designed for anime synergy. In Yellow, Red receives an Eevee in much the same fashion as Ash did in the anime - But that also means that Blue can't select a Starter based on your own.

So the game assigns to him an Eevee. The outcome of your first two Rival Matches with Blue then determines which Eeveelution he chooses to go with: Vaporeon if he's too hard and the player needs an edge, Jolteon if you smoke him both times to give him resistance against Pikachu, and Flareon if you win some and lose some.

Since the anime-synergy game gave Blue an Eevee, it only makes sense for Gary to have one as his ace - replacing whatever his original Starter was. But since Ash and Gary never had the first two matches to decide an evolution, Eevee appears in their base form.

(This does not technically confirm 100% that Gary was, in fact, one of the three Trainers who abandoned what are now Ash's Starters. But at this point, I'm pretty convinced. Kick his ash.)

Rival Battle: Pikachu vs. Eevee

Eevee is a well-rounded Pokemon with stats staying between 50 and 55 across the board, save for their 65 Special. Pikachu, by contrast, is a glass cannon; His 90 Speed is his strongest asset, with 55 Attack and 50 Special for dishing out damage. But at 35 HP and 30 Defense, he's not designed for a prolonged battle.

That might be a problem for him. He's more or less guaranteed to strike first, but Eevee beats him in Special, and Pikachu doesn't have the stats to stand up to Eevee's STAB Normal attacks. If Pikachu can't do something quick, the tide will turn in Eevee's favor.

Ash's best option is to use status moves to even the odds. Reflect would help shield the fragile Pikachu from Eevee's much stronger attacks, and Thunder Wave could give him an edge by costing Gary turns. But neither of these are moves that Ash's Pikachu has ever demonstrated knowledge of.

No matter which way you slice it, Ash is at a disadvantage here. And that's before accounting for a difference in skill level. Gary lays down the status moves, using Reflect to block Pikachu's Normal moves while relying on relatively high Special and the evasion-boosting Double Team to manage the Electric assault.

Pikachu just can't get through. And when Gary connects a solid Skull Bash, the damage easily drops Pikachu.

Gary Wins!

Yeah, that's about right. No notes. Well, some notes; They're still using status moves for things they don't do, like treating Agility as an evasive technique or treating barrier moves as a reflexive defense like Protect rather than applying them as setup techniques. But overall, this match feels right.

Once that's settled, Gary departs for Johto. New version just dropped and it's time to finally start playing Gold and Silver. Ash follows after shortly, but not before Oak gives him a new quest - Which those of us who played Crystal should be familiar with, due to it being added for anime synergy, but that was originally anime-exclusive.

Oak can't crack the secrets of the GS Ball, so he wants Ash to take it to Johto and consult the Poke Ball crafter Gantetsu/Kurt. He's an old man who lives in Hiwada/Azalea Town and makes special Poke Balls out of Apricorns if you bring them to him. Of course he'd be the go-to guy for looking into this mysterious sphere.

Oak gives Ash directions to Wakaba/New Bark Town, the town where winds of a new beginning blow. Ash intends to walk to Johto, which shouldn't be too far. It's just to the west; The two regions are close enough to each other that they share Victory Road and Indigo Plateau.

Tracey leaves the party to become Oak's assistant. Brock officially rejoins the party, since there's a slot open for him. And just like that, Ash sets out to start a new game.

#pokemon liveblog #pokemon #orange league #gary oak #shigeru #ash ketchum #satoshi #eevee #pikachu

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pheonix1t23 · 2 months

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By Tom Ford (henrymakow.com)

Linked below is a very low level documentary along with the book it is based on. It discusses the astonishing and terrifying true nature of our financial system. Here's a high level synopsis. All tradeable securities (stocks, bonds, ETFs, etc) are held by central clearing banks in large pools. In a strict, purely legal sense, the bank owns these assets and you only own a "claim" to them. The bank uses virtually all of these securities as collateral to create derivative contracts and sell them to third parties. Those third parties are first in line to get paid if the bank's assets (ie. your savings) have to be liquidated. You are last in line, meaning all of your assets, your retirement, and everything you think you own in your savings will be gone in a large enough banking crisis. Yes, this includes your 401K, your pension, and everything in your Robinhood portfolio. This is completely legal. They've been slowly changing the laws and winning court cases for the last several decades to make this happen. If you've been suspicious that the government and banking cartel have been purposefully trying to destroy the economy, it's because they are - or at the very least they don't care if it collapses. The plan is to eventually generate a crisis so bad that all of your assets suddenly disappear, triggering the SIPC insurance program to return up to a maximum of $500,000 to every individual with accounts at one of their member banks.This will not be returned in dollars as that would be impossible. Instead, a new currency will be issued: a Central Bank Digital Currency, and your insured savings will be returned in that. Your only other choice will be to lose everything, so I think we can have high confidence that everyone will line up to take whatever deal they are given. This will massively redistribute wealth. All millionaires and billionaires will be instantly erased, which will serve further as a selling point for the ignorant masses. The real goal though, of course, will be to further control our lives, give the government perfect transparency into everyone's spending, eliminate all possibility for tax evasion, and have perfect micromanaged control of the supply of money. For example, if inflation is running hot in one category, the government will be able to program quotas into your bank account, shutting off your ability to purchase certain goods at their whim.

Get out of debt. Governments will destroy your assets while still requiring you to pay your debts, as they did during the Great Depression of the 1930s. Convert useless dollars to tangible things that exist. Farmland, if you can afford it without a mortgage, is one of the best options. If you're not that rich (few are) start hoarding gold (silver if you're really broke) and tell no one.

#usa #corrupt politicians #wall street #stock market #dollar #investments #investing #finance #banking

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sportsgr8 · 7 months

Link

#AsianGames #CommonwealthGames #HeBingjiao #PVSindhu

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danwhobrowses · 9 months

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My Highlights of ROH Death Before Dishonor 2023

In spite of injuries and other companies borrowing talent, Honor is still real

Death Before Dishonor's card has been subject to a lot of change, in part to injuries and Eddie being in the G1, but there's still the potential of a lot of good matches, as well as a couple of storylines established by ROH tapings. So let's see if the show could exceed expectations

Positive stuff only though

Spoilers for the PPV

Zero Hour

Woods' springboard suplex was pretty cool

I never heard that Nese was in a car crash saving a dog, props to him then and glad he's healthy

Workhorsemen got a good pop-up powerbomb combo

Action landing on Drake's back and backflipping off of it to his feet is still mighty impressive

A good match against the Workhorsemen will help soften the blow of losing to Bullet Club Gold on Collision

Clever little trick with Leyla stepping on Trish's foot

Gotta give props to those kids in the crowd they are making the noise

It was a great idea to finish the Zero Hour with AR Fox having a hard hitting win over Shane Taylor, got the crowd pumped for the main card

And really this should be what a Pre-Show should do, each match led into further implications either for ROH feuds, building to title matches or to Collision

Main Card

Gravity with the spacewalk entrance XD and the Buzz Lightyear colours

Commentary did sell the conclusion well, because Gravity won because he was going for substance over style

Plus 'I'm sure Gravity has not forgotten PAC' is a great comment

Dalton Castle has IT, we need him on TV more, put him against Christian, MJF or Bullet Club Gold, see who is more manic between him and Juice

I do like how we're continuing this storyline of Joe bullying Stoke to his advantage

Mike sporting the DEM BOYS shirt

Even though it was put together quickly, all four of these teams should realistically be tag champions, but you can say that a lot about TK-brand tag teams, I still hold hope for Butcher & The Blade, Iron Savages, Dark Order, The Infantry, Top Flight, 2point0 and Santana & Ortiz

Chuck passing Maria's hug to hug Trent is a most Best Friends thing to do

Mark Davis' deadlift piledriver is a work of art

Fénix exuding catlike energy of 'blame the person nearest to you'

Surprised but not upset to see Aussie Open win either, I expected them to win the ladder match, maybe we'll use it to cross paths with FTR too

Stu with white paint for his allegiance is a good small detail

'I still don't know your name!' crowds can be funny sometimes

Abnormally Large William watching Brian Cage? They did have magic together as a team, but Swerve eliminated him at Royal Rampage...intrigue glands increased

I should try to watch more NJPW, because Master Wato's growth has impressed me. And that does feel unbelievable to say given that this is a bowl cut boy in blue working under a non-Gunn Ass man XD

Traded 619s from Cage and Taguchi

I said it on Forbidden Door I'll say it again; how Garcia got that stupid dance over needs to be studied

Also it needs to be studied on how it works as an assertion of dominance

'ARMBARR!' again, crowds can be funny sometimes

I snickered through the whole act of Garcia dancing around the 100% done Shibata

Almost spat my drink when he danced into a sitdown, fucking brilliant

Btw there has been a lot of good wrestling happening do not get it twisted, I've talked often about how I struggle to get into Pure rules matches but all of Shibata's matches have been winners

Garcia had one last dance in him but he proved himself in defeat, soon enough he has to accept he's a wrestler

Commentary has been stellar too throughout I just gotta drop it in there

Reynolds and Silver wearing their old Dark Order masks

Table spot in like the first couple of minutes!?

Dutch's tongue thing, he must be popular with his wife

Alongside Davis' piledriver, Dutch's Bossman Slam is a work of art, you can hang it either end of Dustin Rhodes' powerslam

LEGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODT

Stu did well to cover for Vincent's missed swanton

A thumbtack shin pad!?

You know you're doing Extreme right when the crowd chant E-C-Dub

Dark Order got their killer edge back in this match, we could've had this intensity for Anarchy in the Arena or Blood and Guts, but honestly, now I want the Righteous to join the Dark Order. It sounds odd I know but, Stu left because they weren't vicious enough, now they proved him wrong, they can still be The Righteous but Dark Order can absorb them into their group, regain the numbers they lost and that way we get now 2 trios or 3 tag teams who can mix it up for both companies, we don't have to split Stu and Uno up, and then all there is left is what the Dark Order have needed for a while: the main event leader. Hangman was that guy in Brodie's stead, but now they need another who can be charismatic but also vicious; Miro, Athena, Christian, maybe even Lance Archer or Powerhouse Hobbs with enough build

Seeing PAC and Claudio made me happy, albeit physically conscious because these guys are chiseled, because it meant one thing: Willow/Athena main event!

The energy for the match was apt for the short build, it is heated like a fresh wound

Swing on the stage

Gravity did indeed not forget as he watched PAC on the tv screen

Also appreciate that it's not the WWE angle of watching tv monitors

Gorilla press into a table!

Flipping flapjack was cool too, especially to roll into a Gotch Neutralizer

Reminder these two put on a banger 2 days after Blood & Guts

Death Triangle vs BCC?

Death Triangle vs BCC vs Best Friends??

Riccaboni's Willow rap just works so well

Athena came out with proper wings too

There have been some solid nearfalls in this bout

It was a good finish as well, it took 2 O-Faces and a Crossface but Willow never submitted, never relented. It's a shame she didn't win because the crowd were ready for it, but Athena is the Ace of Khan's ROH, they earned that main event spot

Conclusion

If you were considering skipping this show because of the minimal build, reconsider.

TK delivered a great night of pro wrestling variety regardless; it was entertaining, brutal, funny and dramatic, even the weakest match on the card was still fun. We set up more stuff for the future too and it is definitely worth the price of admission.

Match of the Night: Difficult pick but I'm giving it to Willow vs Athena Best Attire: Dalton Castle is often hard to beat when he's on the card but dammit Gravity did it with Buzz Lightyear gear Best Performance: Athena and Willow again for the tie, Evil Uno and Daniel Garcia are close seconds though they brought it, commentary probably up there too they were great this evening Spot of the Night: I'm not even joking it's Daniel Garcia's aggressive dancing, Dark Order/Righteous had some extreme and creative spots for sure but Garcia's dancing is just an enigma that cannot be ignored.

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