#and then some other fucking idiot was like 'makes about as much sense as climate change' and im like ????

[despite-everything]

god okay i never expected anyone but a couple mutuals to see the pangea/plate tectonics bumper stickers and now people are actually reblogging it and some folks are getting reallll stupid in the comments. like fuck off

#someone made this comment like 'are continents racist now' or something and im like... so its a joke. #these bumper stickers are jokes. i study geology. i find them funny #and then some other fucking idiot was like 'makes about as much sense as climate change' and im like ???? #climate change is real.... and the bumper stickers are jokes.... #god people can be fucking dumb #i do love everyone saying they want to buy the stickers and give them to coworkers/put them on their shit etc #tree talks

[sapphiretanto]

(CW: Ranting/Venting; the fic I am talking about will not be named, nor will I give the author’s name away. Please send me a message if you want to know)

Did we even watch the same show? He’s not a caring, big brother? He’s a stick in the mud?

The only thing I’ll give you is that he’s full of himself… because he’s an idiot teenager with badass fighting skills and weapons. Of course he’s gonna be a cocky little shit. Most people with Leo’s skill would be.

I’m going to assume that you mean part of the time he’s full of himself. But if you mean all the time, then I’ll correct you there. More often than not, he is actually very insecure— a very common trait among the Leonardo’s.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be leading the team?”

“It’s all my fault. I let the guys down!”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again”

“I’d just hold you back. You guys train, I’ll watch. It’s all I’m good for anyway…”

“I’m a liability to the whole team”

“I won’t be much help out there anyway”

Leo is a perfectionist and this shows in the way he leads— coming across as bossy or arrogant— and how he treats himself. The guy just got out of a three-month coma after he had the shit kicked out of him and what does he say when he’s by himself after everyone else went to look for Raph in the woods?

He holds himself to impossibly high standards— both placed by himself and some of the misguided lessons he was taught.

Alright, now for the stick in the mud part. Leo is a fucking dork (I mean this in the most affectionate sense). He loves Space Heroes to the point where he quotes it during missions. He likes puns, is fascinated by Japan culture, martial arts, meditation, etc. He trains very hard to excel at ninjutsu/martial arts— both so he can help his brothers in combat and because it’s a passion of his. That doesn’t make him boring in the slightest. He has some of the most ridiculous dialogue throughout the series:

“Alright guys. Let’s put Old Mother Hubbard back in her cupboard!”

“Hello!? Space Heroes!? Captain Ryan! Didn’t you see the episode where they fought the Cortexecons?!”

“Awesome! Oh, this is so rad! I feel like Van Helsing, but way cooler than him, actually. Way more rad than Van Helsing”

“Alright guys, prepare to dish out the mighty wrath of justice!”

“We don’t know he’s gonna do anything bad. He could be on his way… to… church!”

“I… don’t really have a pinky?”

He can’t lie for shit which leads to him saying silly things:

“Be cool. Be cool.” *answers phone* “uh.. hey man! What’s… what’s going down? *Raph says they better have not watched the Crognard finale without him and Leo laughs nervously* W-who, us?! Of course not! But I bet if we did watch it, we would have found it anti-climate… climactic!”

*gets asked by Chloe if there’s other turtles like him* “Nope! Uh-uh! Just me! Mr. Imaginary Talking Turtle!”

“He’s just kidding, Mrs. O’Neil. Kirby’s…uh.. on a.. safari! In Puerto Rico! And he won’t be back for a while.”

And he’s not the goody-two shoes and suck up people think of him as. He has gone behind Splinter’s back on several occasions, snuck out both willingly and unwillingly. The guy dressed in black and caused petty crime with his sister and her girlfriend Shinigami because he was pissed off at Shredder.

As for not being a caring brother. You mean this guy?! This Leo?! ⬇️

Couldn’t be this Leo, right? There’s no way he’s a mother hen— being both doting and getting after his brothers.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

“Mikey, you never cease to amaze me”

“Leo never left your side” — April when Raph was reduced to a mere plant by The Creep

“I’m sorry about Spike, Raphael.”

“Donnie, don’t lose sight of who you are!”

“Nice job, D”

“Donnie, the go karts worked great. Nice job!”

“Mikey, come on! It’s not that bad! And Raph promises not to make fun of you anymore.”

Not the Leo that uses all his strength and stays behind in the Technodrome holding Kraang Prime so his brothers and April can escape. Not that Leo who while just barely awake after a coma goes after a mutated monster in the woods to get his family back. Not that Leo who forced himself to stay calm so the others can be calm while they go through the most insane shit, or cannot grieve in the moment because he has to ensure the rest of their safety, so his focus during missions and battle is scattered in different places. Because he couldn’t possibly help bandage their wounds, worry when they’re hurt and not give up on a family member. Not Leo preventing Donnie from straight up unaliving Don Vizioso because Leo doesn’t want his younger brother to do what he did and change him like it changed him. He doesn’t sacrifice himself over and over because he loves his brothers, right? Right??

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 leo #Mari rants #mari rambles #just say you didn’t watch 2012 and I’ll be fine with that #I seriously don’t understand what is so fucking difficult to grasp #Leo isn’t an asshole who is boring as hell #he doesn’t hate his brothers #he isn’t master splinters golden child or the favorite as much a you wanna think that #tmnt 2012 mikey #tmnt 2012 raph #tmnt 2012 donnie

[p7agu3]

transfem neviro fic

some ppl on discord liked this, so i'm posting it here now. it's a draft with some unfinished bits lopped off. enjoy!

btw, maxwell is player but more insane: a cannon fist wind warlock assassin

-----

The Sun shines brightly over the blue waters of the Bronze Sea. Aboard an unassuming ketch, a group of distinctive idiots sit: a curse thief, dressed in dark thick clothing entirely inappropriate to the moderate climate, a fiery mage, the only woman in the group, a… regular man, dressed in a suit of chain-mail armor, and the somehow captain, wearing the frankly quite lame uniform of an Assassin acolyte. Beside them stand an old alchemist and a Navy deserter, watching their conversation with a sort of silent, exasperated intrigue.

“I’m telling you, this will be great!” Maxwell insists, grinning brightly with a touch of madness. He thinks ‘funny’ and ‘great’ are synonyms. “Team bonding! We’ll all get to know each other so much better!!”

Neviro raises a skeptical eyebrow. “How will exchanging our clothes make us ‘know each other’ better? I don’t see how that makes any sense-” Maxwell slaps a hand over the prince’s mouth with the force of a man who casually wields cannonballs. It knocks Neviro clean over, but I assure you that he is completely fine.

“Team bonding!!!!!” The madness has totally taken over the warlock’s grin. Everyone in the vicinity shivers slightly, and acquiesces to his atypical but acceptable demands.

Skipping over to Enizor, he gently borrows the alchemist’s overlarge hat. “Everyone will be participating!” The no-name acolytes he picked up in Whitesummit perk up excitedly. “..oh, I’m so sorry, guys. Not you, it might get kinda boring if there’s like ten of the same outfit…” They droop down again, saddened. “Look, I promise I’ll steal a seafood buffet from my lawful good shadow self later, okay? They’ll never see it coming and we’ll become even better criminals for it!” Cheers and brief applause can be heard before the crew goes back to manning the ketch. They kind of have to do everything. Maxwell doesn’t know jack about sailing and Edward is always being dragged into his shenanigans. At least it’s not a totally thankless job.

An empty notebook’s page is reduced to shreds of paper for the activity, and the names are dropped into Enizor’s hat, which is shaken around. “Who wants to pick first?” Maxwell asks, excitedly.

For a long moment, no one volunteers. Finally, Edward, loyal to a fault, decides to take the blow. “I’ll bite, Captain.” He sinks his hand into the hat, rummaging around through the scraps. One of them gets pinched between his weathered fingers.

“‘Maxwell..’” Edward reads. 

“Huh? What’s wrong?” The said warlock looks at him, confused.

“That’s the name I picked up. Seems we’re going to-” His calm words are cut off by Maxwell suddenly squealing excitedly and dragging him below deck. Edward’s expression is one of resigned horror as he disappears into the darkness.

“Should we run before it’s too late?” Iris asks, feeling somewhat unsettled at the thought of Enizor potentially wearing her clothes.

Morden shakes his head sadly. “He’d catch us. You can’t stop Max when he gets like this, it’s like trying to stop a ship mid-ram. Sometimes you can dodge it, but if it’s determined enough you won’t be free until one or both of you is at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Shall we determine the next pair?” Enizor asks with his crusty old man voice.

With a deep sigh, Morden steps forward and picks a name out of the hat. “‘Enizor’... Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

“Language!” The boomer chides him. “But I don’t believe this will be too terrible. I did have a, oh, what is it called? A ‘goth phase’? The style is not unfamiliar to me, I’m certain we’ll be fine.”

Morden groans horribly again. He looks at Iris and Neviro. “I guess you two will be swapping clothes too, huh? Let’s just. Do this.”

The other two reluctantly nod and begin to descend.

Below deck, Edward and Maxwell are staring at each other’s top surgery scars.

“OMG, you’re trans of gender!!!” Max shouts excitedly. He’s absolutely thrilled.

“When the hell did you get top surgery??!?” Edward asks, confused and baffled. Based on what he knows about Maxwell’s life, there’s literally no fucking way.

“I don’t know!” He’s so happy that Edward doesn’t dare to bring down the mood. The quartermaster tries to shrug casually and accepts the acolyte uniform from his half-dressed captain, (they’re both wearing a towel around the waist and that’s it) handing him the battered Navy uniform that they reclaimed from Silverhold so long ago.

Maxwell skips off into a side room to change, leaving Edward to make heads or tails of the red scarf. The rest of the uniform is simple enough, just a sleeveless buttoned shirt and black pants. Unfortunately, it seems to be a little too small. His chest seems to be straining against the buttons of the shirt, but the stitching holds strong, even as Edward takes a deep breath in. Perhaps he should give the Assassins a little more credit for their clothing quality..

It feels odd to just have his arms out like this. He’s not particularly built, and he’s admittedly gotten a bit soft around the edges since his desertion. Somewhat nervously, he adjusts the scarf so it sits less awkwardly around his neck. 

He looks in the mirror. Oh, this is quite alright, actually. It’s not a bad outfit. A bit plain, definitely, and it certainly is a bit tight, but he can live with this for a day or so. That.. that is how long Maxwell is going to make this go on, right?

Stepping back out onto the deck of the ship, Edward blinks in the sudden brightness of the day. To his astonishment, Maxwell wolf-whistles at him, pointing and laughing excitedly at Edward’s arms. It’d be kind of flattering if this wasn’t the same teenager who keeled over and fainted when Morden took his shirt off last week. The Death Curse user barely has any decent chest hair, Maxwell’s standards are far too low.

The Navy uniform looks pretty natural on the warlock. Perhaps it’s because Edward got used to seeing him in Navy blue before he joined the Syndicate. For some reason Maxwell had made a habit of constantly wearing the color. He twirls a gun, clearly not knowing how to use it, and shoots a hole in one of the sails before fumbling with reloading it. Edward sighs and takes both holsters from him, clipping them onto the Assassin uniform. Best not to trust him with weapons, that rarely ends well.

Behind him, Enizor emerges, wearing Morden’s outfit. “This is a bit thick for the weather, isn’t it?” He remarks. The dark clothing and bandanna really accentuate his baldness.

“Oh, says the guy who wears THREE layers of robes?” Morden argues, almost tripping over the hem of Enizor’s robes as he stumbles out onto the deck. “How can you even see out of this thing?” He gestures angrily towards the hat’s brim.

“It takes decades of experience, boy.” Enizor chides. “Perhaps if you trained in the arts of alchemy you would understand. Also, you need to eat more, it’s clearly stunting your growth.”

Morden looks extremely irritated and bares his teeth at Enizor. He looks like he’s about to growl at him, honestly. Edward wonders if biting is on the table.

“Aw, I think the hat looks cute on you!” Maxwell tries to placate Morden. “The rest of the outfit is kinda a lost cause, though.” Edward nods in agreement, and Enizor looks crestfallen.

“None of you are old enough to appreciate the intricacies of classical alchemist dress.” Enizor crosses his arms, looking snooty. “You’ll come around in a few decades.”

Collapsing into a mopey, overheated pile of robes, Morden leans back against the ship’s railing. “What’s taking the last two so long?”

“Beats me. Should I go check on them?” Maxwell seems unenthusiastic about the idea.

Before he can say another word, though, Iris appears, donning Neviro’s chainmail and the set of iron armor they bought for him recently. “This is really heavy..” she puffs, leaning on the railing beside Morden to catch her breath.

“Wow! You look great!” Maxwell skips over to her and helps her get her hair out of the back of the armor. “Like, you actually pull off the look! Unlike Neviro. Um, don’t tell him I said that. Where is he, anyway?”

Back in the temporary changing room, Neviro is just. Staring. 

Staring at his reflection.

He’s wearing Iris’ jacket, skirt, and pants. It’s a pretty normal outfit, as far as outfits go. While he’s not in the habit of wearing skirts, he thought it would be something he could just laugh off later, since everyone else was very nonchalant about the whole clothes swapping thing.

But this is.. Weird. He feels weird. He can’t stop looking at himself.

Why does this look so.. right?

He knows he looks good. But this is something deeper. This.. this is making something resonate deep inside of himself, and he’s not sure what to make of it. 

Someone knocks on the door and he pulls himself away from the mirror. He needs to stop being weird about this. It’s just a skirt. Just a piece of fabric. He can be normal about it.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” Edward asks through the door, his voice muffled but slightly worried. “Is this making you uncomfortable? We can call it off, it’s fine, I can handle Maxwell."

Neviro steals another glance at the mirror.

He doesn't feel uncomfortable. He feels like something he's been missing for his whole life has just been handed to him. 

"I'm fine.." he says, trying to push down the emotions swirling in his stomach. He opens the door and smiles at Edward. His heart is pounding in his chest.

"Well." Edward says, sounding a bit concerned still. "You look very pretty. If you're alright with me calling you that." He looks away and scratches his neck. "The red really brings out your eyes."

Oh. Neviro feels his face turning red as well, and he covers it with his hands, trying to compose himself before going back above deck. Edward laughs softly. "C'mon, princess. The others are waiting for you."

It's just affectionate teasing. He knows this. But it doesn't stop his heart from pounding, or his body from suddenly feeling lighter. Once again, that feeling of strange happiness makes itself known, and he wonders what's wrong with him, that just a single word could elicit such a reaction.

When the sunlight shines down upon him once more, he expects them to tease him, maybe comment on how silly it looks for him to be wearing a little skirt. Instead, they all have similar reactions to Edward.

"Oh damn, you should really get out of that chainmail more! You're so cute!" Maxwell is bouncing around exuberantly, seemingly ecstatic that his activity was a success. He twirls Edward's cutlass around like a baton, prompting the quartermaster to chase him down and confiscate it.

"The red suits you." Enizor comments, pulling the bandanna down to speak in a move that might have been badass if his head wasn't bald and shiny with sweat.

"It really does," Iris agrees, to Neviro's surprise. "Maybe we should get you a jacket like that in the next town?"

"Oh, there's no need," he insists, feeling very flustered. Even if he might want one, he has enough clothes already. Plain, boring, mostly tasteless clothes, but enough to wear. 

The skirt rustles around his legs in the sea breeze. He doesn't think about what it might be like to wear one regularly.

"Well," Morden says, getting up from his sitting position. "Does this mean we're finally done 'bonding'?" He looks somewhat relieved at the prospect.

Neviro feels a pang of disappointment. No. Stop that. These are Iris' clothes, he knew he'd have to return them eventually.

Thankfully, Maxwell has other ideas. "No, of course not! Now that I am dressed appropriately, we must make haste for Silverhold! I will visit my father!"

"Oh no," Edward mutters, slapping his hand to his forehead. "Not this again.."

"Max, we've been over this!" Morden protests. "The Commodore is not your father! You're an orphan, that's how the Order got you in the first place!"

"Family is who you choose!" Maxwell argues back. "And mine includes them and not you!" His voice softens into something more playful. "Mostly 'cause it'd make kissing you weird if you were part of it."

"Gah!" Morden throws his hands up exasperatedly and heads below deck, cheeks burning almost as red as Neviro's. There seems to be a whole lot of blushing today. As he descends, he calls back at Maxwell. "You won't be seeing a speck of Death magic during your raid, I assure you of that!"

"Good!" retorts Maxwell. "It's too early for you to meet my parents anyway!"

Silence hangs over the ship for a moment.

"Wow." says Iris. "That was certainly something." Her borrowed armor clanks as she scratches her neck. "So.. off to Silverhold, now?"

"Yeah, let's go." Maxwell huffs, signaling the crew to open sail towards the naval base.

Neviro stands by the ship's railing, feeling the wind rustle his– not his, Iris', why does he have to remind himself of that?-- skirt. He feels a bit lightheaded from all the compliments. The occasional spray of seawater doesn't do much to distract him from his boiling thoughts.

"You really do look nice." Iris tells him, clanking over to stand by his side. "It seriously looks a lot better than most of your 'outfits', if they can even be called that." She laughs lightheartedly. "Maybe you should let me do your clothes shopping?"

His heart flutters at the offer, and he has to bite back the 'yes' on his lips. It's just a joke. Just a joke. Stop being weird, Neviro. "Haha," Gods, that sounded so forced. "I'm alright. Thanks."

She seems slightly concerned about his stiffness, but seemingly brushes it off as him being a bit embarrassed. He's not sure how to describe how he feels about the offer anyway.

On the other side of the ship, Maxwell has pulled Edward aside, using his magic to make a very obnoxious whooshing noise that obscures their conversation. The warlock grips his quartermaster severely. "Edwar," he insists, so intensely focused that he forgets the last consonant. "My egg detector is off the chart."

Edward nods solemnly. "Yes, I do believe I am feeling a slight sense of 'egg' as well, Captain. What shall we do about it?"

Maxwell thumps his fist into his hand aggressively. "I'm going to talk to them about it."

"...respectfully, Captain, I think you should let Iris handle this one."

"Damn." Maxwell considers this. "You're probably right," He concedes, after a minute of thought. "I am Not Good at the whole delicate emotions thing."

"Neviro," Iris asks, after a minute of silence (and loud wind noises, wtf Maxwell?). "What are you thinking about? You seem stiff. More stiff than usual, I mean."

The lost prince jolts in surprise at the question. She's right, he has been feeling rather tense, lost in conflicting thoughts brought on by the stupid outfit he's wearing. He groans and rubs his forehead. He's a terrible liar, but he doesn't want to worry her over something so trivial. Even if it's kind of weird.

"Thinking about this, I guess." He gestures at the skirt and jacket. "The whole 'wearing a skirt' thing."

She frowns worriedly. "Is it bothering you? This whole thing was meant to be harmless fun, you can take it off now if you-"

"No!" The denial spills from his lips before he can stop it. He covers his mouth for a second, mortified. "I- I mean, it's really not bothering me. I promise." His face is turning red again, he can feel it. 

"Oh, so you like it?" She sounds slightly amused, but not mocking. Not cruel. Just curious. He's not sure how to feel about that.

"Y-yeah. I guess." He can barely look at her. It feels shameful to admit. He's a prince, he's not supposed to like flouncing about in dresses and skirts and things.

Iris looks off into the distance, where Silverhold is slowly approaching. "Can I ask you a question? It might be kind of.. invasive, I guess. So you don't have to answer it."

"..." He's not sure what she's about to ask. But he doesn't feel too worried. She's one of the closest friends he's had in his life. "Go ahead?"

"Are you… not a boy, Neviro?" The question throws him for a loop. His first instinct is to respond with a resounding 'no', since of course he's male, he's the prince of Winterveil for gods' sake, everyone knows that. But.. he thinks. And suddenly he's not so sure.

"I.. I…" For once he's lost for words. His fingers clench in the fabric of his skirt. Has he ever really felt like a man? He feels suddenly confused and a bit scared. Is.. is he crying? He can't– shouldn't be crying right now.

"Hey, it's okay, calm down.." Iris' hands rub his back, warm even through the chainmail. "I get it, this gender stuff is confusing. But you're not alone, you've got me and Morden and Edward and Maxwell. We get it. We'll always have your back."

He sniffles. "Thanks.." A part of himself that he'd taken for granted has just been.. ripped away. No, not that, it was just.. always wrong. Chafing on the edge of his consciousness. Now it's hanging loose, and he…

She's not a 'he'. It feels oddly freeing to think that, to place something new in that empty void. A bubble of happiness rises up through her body. This.. this feels better. Feels right. She's a girl. Maybe she's always been one.

Iris lets her go and takes a step back. "Are you feeling better?"

She nods. "Yeah. A lot better."

The anomaly smiles. "Glad to hear it. So, what are your preferred pronouns?"

"...she/her." It feels a little odd to say it, but also extremely freeing. Iris smiles. 

"I'm guessing this is the first time you really realized this, huh?" She nods again. "Alright, yeah. So what should we call you? I'm guessing you probably don't wanna still be called 'Neviro'?"

Maybe. But that's really the only name she's ever known, and she doesn't have any new names ready. She shrugs, feeling a little too emotionally drained to talk.

"Ah, right, you probably haven't thought about it. Hm," Iris scratches her chin in thought. "Can we call you 'Nevi'? I get you might wanna pick a different name later, but it's a little less–"

She tackles Iris into a hug, making a racket when the metal armor crashes into the railing. "Yes," she whispers. "Yes, yes, thank you so much, Iris.."

"No problem." Iris ruffles her hair with a knowing grin. "Just girls helping girls, right?"

"Stop the boat!" yells Maxwell, already making for the edge of the ship. The sound of cannons firing can be heard from Silverhold, but Edward has calculated the distance properly– the ship is just out of range. Before long the girls can hear his deranged yelling, and the terrified screams of Navy marines.

Edward follows Maxwell off the ship, perhaps hoping to spare the lives of some relatively innocent marines. And drag him away from the Commodore before Maxwell's bizarrely trusting side can make a reappearance and get him recruited into the Navy.

#arcane odyssey #fanfic #fanfiction #neviro #crackfic kinda #every ao character is trans this is real vetex told me

[fanficapologist]

I’m loving your fiction and get super excited when you publish it. Are we going to get any clear on whether Alys is pregnant with Aemond’s baby or is it’s as another reader said Daemons? Also are Maera and Aemond in love with each other. I feel like they are still skirting around that issue and the fact it took her a while to tell him she was pregnant makes me think she’s not really certain about him and him about her.

Thank you so much! Very excited to have you on this journey 🖤

Ok so spoiler warning below the line just in case some of you want to save yourselves for the drama (but tbh as a reader I can’t wait for stuff either 🤣)

So first question: Alys is going to be introduced to the story directly for the first time in about 2-3 chapters. We’ll then get an explanation about who she is, what role she’s playing in Aemond’s life etc. Shortly after, Maera will physically meet her in person and (you guessed it) Alys will also be pregnant. In between all this drama we’ll get a few updates about the war from various sources, both from the past and what future plans are. This will make it clear who the baby daddy of Alys’s baby is 👀

Second Question: Maera loves the bones of that boy and it is so fucking scary to her. They’ve been through so much in their past, they’re now married, there’s an ongoing war and she’s just found out she’s pregnant. I think she knew a while back that she loved him, but the fact she’s carrying his child has really solidified for her. I think she finds being in love as leaving herself quite vulnerable, and given the political climate, I think she’s waiting for the right time to tell him. As for our brooding one-eyed Prince, I don’t think big poetic declarations of love are his thing. He is definitely showing his love in small ways and in a couple of chapters, these two idiots are going to make the way the feel about each other quite clear (in a stupidly dramatic and unhealthy way but there you go 🤣)

Also I know I probably look like this 👇 explaining it all

but it makes sense in my mind 🤣

So…yeah! Thank you so much for your question! It really makes my day getting them as it means I can let you know more about whats going on in my head and that you genuinely care about where this is going 😊 happy reading 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena

[lnane]

zero pressure to explain this to my american ass if you dont have the energy, but like.

whats sweden like, as someone who lives there? im always fascinated to hear about other parts of the world from the people who know them best, and i dont hear much about sweden in general, so ive got a lot to learn.

if thats too broad of a question, some suggestions: how do you feel about the weather, or the politics, or the holidays?

whats a nuisance yall joke about (like, over here in usamerica, its usually the military-industrial complex, or costly healthcare)?

or, whats something unique about sweden, or something that you think more people should know about it?

well we can do this in order of things that pop in my head, very disorganized.

to start of with weather: its getting too hot. the weather is actually pretty comfortable most of the time, and these last summers have been the best ive managed in my experience with heat, but you can tell by the climate that its too hot. its too dry, and theres very little snow during winter. its still cold as fuck, but no snow somehow. I wish it rained more. but on a day to day basis, weathers comfy. A bit windy sometime.

holidays i got very little thoughts on myself. theres a few of them and most are just days off. Im not too fond of the way we celebrate them but then again ive only been allowed to and wanted to drink for 2 years worth of them, so i havent gotten into it yet (yea alcohol is the biggest reason we actually still celebrate things i think)

politics is a fucking hellscape rn. the barely disguised neo-nazi party recently got the most amount of votes in the election so the right wing parties is in control. Theyve already started talking dumb shit about climate politics and immigrants. Not looking up. Beyond that i dont know much about the political landscape.

I dont know what a typical swede complains or jokes about because i dont hang out with a lot of them. I know gas prices is a common thing right now. We also have a trend in comedy calling norwegians idiots, which doesnt make sense because we hate denmark way more.

Its hard to say whats unique or special bout sweden because to be all of it is normal. Only real things you need to know is 1. if a swede tries to claim they cant speak english with you, only plausible conlusion is that they didnt finish middleschool (passing grade in english is mandatory), 2. anything that is a traditional swedish meal is pretty much garbage. Its mostly mildly spiced meat, potatoes, and some sauce similar to gravy.

I guess one thing thats a big difference from the american perspective is how our education looks through the years. First 9 are mandatory, ages 7-15 grade 1-9, in stages called Low, Middle, and High stage. After that, you legally have the choice to keep studying or to do something else (socially and economically you dont have that chocie), and at that point you choose your own education. The most common ones being things like Civics, Naturesciences, Technology, and Fine Arts (Art, Dance, Photo, Music, and theatre). Theres a bunch more but these the top picks. Usually lasts 3 years which after you should be around 18 years old and most of the time expected to apply for uni. And during that time you do get money for going to school (seperate from loans, and not a lot of money).

I can probably provide some more detailed information about what its like here with questions about specific parts, but keep in mind that i also know very little about this country. I just live here

[youknow-igetit]

welcome to... another tiktok au because that apps controls my life but what’s new

- Kevin's verified and posts his exy highlights and his workout routines. Most of his comments are of people asking him to step on them

- Matt and Dan have a joint account and most of it is povs of them being accepting parents/being Very Attractive (think of the lesbian mob moms, the deity parents, and the cowboy dads). Most of their followers are queer teens

- Allison is one of the more chaotic posters, half of her posts are crazy storytimes and the other half is a mix of thirst traps and answering questions about her clothing company

- Renee posts mini tutorial videos about how to properly handle a knife, block and attack, etc. It's linked to her YouTube account, which is more in depth. she also has videos where she bakes bread and cookies like the cottagecore lesbian she is. Most of her comments are similar to Kevin's (especially in the breadmaking videos because... hh pretty woman strong arms)

- Neil is famous on plant tiktok, for many reasons, but mostly because he's attractive, he's queer, and he's funny (for a while his most liked tiktok was of him standing in his kitchen, holding one of those mini microphones and saying “my therapist said it would be good for me to get a pet but i’m not ready for that kind of commitment despite the fact that i’m married. so” *hauls in a very large ficus* “this is linda”)(it became his second liked tiktok after someone commented asking him if he would wear a maid outfit and cat ears and he was bored so he was like "fuck it: sure.")

- Nicky is living his best life. Most of his comments are people saying "it's hard to see someone else living your dreams" because all he does is post about his weird pets and his hot husband (he has 32 pets. Of those pets there are two dogs, three foxes, a sugar glider, and multiple snakes). Of the foxes, he has the most followers and got verified first

- Aaron's is strange in the sense that he answers a lot of questions on science and stuff, but he also posts thirst traps sometimes, which get millions of likes. He's verified and he has more followers than Kevin and Kevin's kinda bitter about it. (he’s like the sexy young adult version of hank green)

- Andrews is by far the most chaotic. He got a lot of followers initially because of the video he posted where he was trying to befriend the possums in his yard at 3 am when it’s raining by offering them cheerios and singing wap but replacing the word “pussy” with “possum” (most of his comment are " everyone: 'did you see that new dance?' my fyp:")

- despite their vastly different content, most people who follow Andrew also follow Aaron. one could be scrolling through their for you page and find a video of Aaron explaining cloning and then scroll down and find Andrew interviewing his cat about climate change

“what do you think about climate change”

*silence, because it is a cat*

“really? no comment?”

*a mrrp, a tiny meow mayhaps*

“are you trying to get me canceled or something? those are not the views i have been teaching you, young lady”

- Andrew: “i currently live in a long-distance relationship with my husband because of our jobs and contracts and such, and i miss him quite a lot, but i can’t see him, so i bought sixteen three-wick candles from bath and body works. they were having a sale.”

- andrew also has a lot of videos that look like they were taken at three am either in a forest or in a bathroom with the lights turned off

- andrew and neil still have their weird rivalry thing on twitter, so after they make a video together about neil finally moving in, all of the comments are like “i thought you guys hated each other???”, so they make a response video that’s just “oh no, i’m married to this asshole” and half of the comments are “!!!>??!” wheras the other half is like “i mcfuckin knew it”

- all of the foxes post at least one video when they’re all together for the winter holidays and all of the comments are like “the most daring collab ever” and they’re just like “nah bro, this is just christmas”

- there's multiple videos on multiple accounts of the foxes (minus aaron and nicky) all hiking in the middle of the woods, but for some reason it's at night and very very cursed (similar to Andrew's own content)

"how much do you bet me that I can't jump off this cliff" "fucking ZERO"

"theoretically, I could run off and live in the forest like a bog witch" "but you wouldn't have internet connection" "fuck. Nevermind"

neil jumps down from a tree out of nowhere and scares the shit out of everyone

“okay so we’re kinda lost but neil claims he can read the stars or some shit so”

“okay so we lost neil”

"I swear this is going to be a story from the magnus archive dude, like I'm pretty sure that one of us is going to be kidnapped by a supernatural being"

(they didn't end up being kidnapped. They'd been roaming the same three hundred yards of trees for two hours because they're idiots)

- most of allison, dan, matt, andrew, and neil’s followers don’t even know that they play exy (I didn't say Kevin because: duh). they post fun traveling videos for the olympics and the comments are like “lucky!!! i wish i could watch the olympics in person” and they’re like “no, i don’t think you understand, we’re playing in the olympics” and everyone’s like “w h a t”

- alternatively, followers are watching the olympics and finding the funky gay tiktok people on the exy court and are very very confused

(also i forgot to mention this earlier but all of them caption every single one of their videos) (also none of them can be found on straight tiktok)

#love is stored in the tiktok au #andreil #aftg hc #andreil hc #dan wilds #kevin day #andrew minyard #matt boyd #aaron minyard #allison reynolds #nicky hemmick #renee walker #neil josten #matt boyd x dan wilds #Also I mentioned the magnus archives please dont talk to me about it I'm still on season one

[darthkruge]

Okay okay okay so imagine Reader is abducted by the separatists because she ( or nb reader ) is a very well loved member of the senate. So obviously Anakin goes to save her, but his idiot plan gets him captured as well so then it's up to Reader to talk her way out of this mess, get to her idiot boyfriend, free him and then both of them try to make it out alive. Bonus points for Obi-Wan looking very tired and sick of Anakin's ideas in the background. What do you think?

Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader ~ Rescue Operations?

Summary: After the Reader is captured by the Separatists, Anakin rushes to save her. When this doesn’t work out, the Reader has to get her and her boyfriend out of this mess. 

Warnings: Language, whump, one scene where the Reader gets beat up, Reader is a badass, Anakin is completely in love with his badass girlfriend and we love that for him

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Catherine, my love!! I’m sorry this took me so long, I have nothing to say for myself other than my poor organization skills. But I’m obsessed with this request, I hope I did it justice <3

gif credit (x)

You groaned as you opened your eyes and attempted to shake the drowsiness that seemed to cling to your very bones. You blinked, trying to get your bearings and remember what had happened. You were preparing for your speech at the Senate, trying to pass a peace treaty between the Republic and some smaller territories that were debating joining the fight against the Separatists. You’d been fighting for support for the treaty for months and you finally had the chance to give one last speech before the vote. 

You’d been pacing in your Coruscant apartment, practicing the speech for your boyfriend a million times. After you finished your recitation, you exited the room, needing to get your notes that you’d seemed to misplace. So you went into your office and… nothing.

Why couldn’t you remember after that?! You opened the door to your office, walked inside, and… 

You sighed as you came back to the present, leaning against the wall behind you and looking around. You were clearly in a cell of some sort and the Separatists were almost certainly behind this. You were still in your Senate attire, although it had been thoroughly scuffed up, and they’d taken your datapad and other communication devices. You felt around your boot and smiled. Your knife was still there. They must have assumed you wouldn’t be carrying a weapon to your speech and not done a thorough enough check. Whatever the reason, you were thanking the Maker it was still there. 

Back in Coruscant, Anakin was walking the Temple halls in a crazed state. When you didn’t show up for your speech, he immediately panicked. He knew how important this treaty was for you and the entire Republic; you’d been going over it for forever and there is no way you’d just blow it off without telling anyone. The rest of the Senate was also concerned. You’d grown up in one of the poorer districts and, thus, had a sense of relatability and humility that most were drawn to. Whether or not they agreed with your policies, almost everyone could understand that you always kept the interest of the people at the forefront of your mind. 

When Obi-Wan walked up to him with a ripped piece of your clothes and your scattered and crumpled notes, Anakin felt his heart drop. 

“It was the Separatists. They must have knocked her out in her office and escaped through the vents.”

Upon seeing his absolutely heartbroken expression, Obi-Wan added, “We’ll get her back, Anakin. I promise.”

Anakin could only nod, ideas for a plan to save you already running round his head. 

You’d been in this kriffing cell for four days now. Or maybe it was five? You were desperately trying to keep your wits about you but it was so hard; they brought you a tiny ration of food and water once a day and it was not near enough to keep your strength up. You’d spent your time trying to carve your way through the bars but your knife was no match and you quickly gave up, not wanting to dull the blade. You’d found a loose brick hidden around the floor and used the knife to cut it out, allowing you to hide your weapon under it on the off chance they searched you again. 

You tried to think of a plan to escape but they hadn’t even opened your door yet. There was no way you could get out by yourself and, until someone came in that you could attack, it was pointless to even try. They kept you in complete darkness and silence, no way to tell how much time had passed aside from the daily rations. You assumed you were on a Separatist base but that proved unhelpful; they were widespread and the cell held no defining features of climate or location. You had tried calling out to see if anyone else was around. Each time, you were met with your own echo. 

You stilled, hearing footsteps approach you. A Separatist guard opened your cell door, roughly pulling you out. You yelped, legs not cooperating after so long of sitting in the cramped cell. He led you into another room that was barely brighter than your own. Sizing up the guard, you felt fear creep in. No matter how hard you tried to banish your anxieties, knowing they’d only serve to lessen your already shaken focus, it was sometimes impossible. 

“Tell us which planets are deserting.” He commanded.

You met his stare evenly, refusing to let your fear betray you. There was absolutely no chance you’d tell him anything. As soon as the Separatists learned which planets were thinking about joining the Republic, they’d send armies to wipe them out immediately. You refused to let that happen.

“Fine. Be that way.” The man pulled his fist back and sent it into your cheek, the impact sending sparks of pain throughout your entire body. He brought his foot up, kicking you in the gut and you fell harshly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hair, hoisting up your body as if it were a ragdoll. You gathered your strength and spit in his face, enjoying the way his smug look disappeared. In retaliation, he slammed you into the wall, the impact making stars cloud your vision. 

The man released you and you fell, your consciousness already starting to detach from your body. You tried to reason with yourself, hoping logic would aid you. This is a trauma response. I’m not going to die. My body can take this. I will black out, but I will wake up again. They’re not going to kill me. They need me alive. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. Somehow, the hardest part is this was banishing the thoughts of that beautiful boy from your head. You knew that if you allowed yourself to think of him, to fathom how he would blame himself should this be your end, you would give in. 

Instead, you focussed on the physical pain you felt, on the rage you channeled to this guard. You hated how weak you felt, how exhausted you were. You allowed your mind to hone in on all the ways you could hurt this man, given you had your full strength. You let yourself hate yourself, appalled at how you couldn’t even fight back. With every punch he threw at you, you went further into your head, into the one place this man couldn’t touch. Eventually, your mind started spinning from dehydration, pain, and overexertion. All you could do was curl into a fetal position and hope it somehow stopped. 

“What do you mean you’re going to find her?” Obi-Wan said, running after Anakin.

“It’s been days, Obi-Wan, days. There are only so many Separatist bases in the galaxy and Y/N’s on one of them.”

“Anakin, don’t you think they’ve planned for a rescue mission?! This is Senator L/N we’re talking about! And they took her right before the vote, this was clearly a thought-out attack, stop acting like it’s simple!”

“It is simple! Those Separatist assholes have Y/N. And it’s been days. What if she thinks we forgot about her? What if she thinks we’ve given up? They could be doing fucking anything to her and I’m not going to let her stay there for another minute!”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan began but Anakin waved him off.

“I’m sorry, Master. But if the Council won’t do anything, I will.”

“Anakin, the Council is trying! They just don’t have enough troops right now to send a full rescue mission after one Senator. They just want a few more days, then some troops should be back from their missions and you can have your full battalion.” Obi-Wan took a breath and lowered his voice, empathy for his friend clear in his words. “I know you love her. I want her back, too, you know. I’ve grown quite fond of her; her friendship is quite dear to me. All I’m asking is you be careful and think this through.”

“Believe me, I have thought this through. I wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger, we both know that. And while a few days doesn’t seem like much to the Council, we’ve seen the harm these Separatists can inflict in far less. Listen, it might not be the strongest plan I’ve ever made but, if it’s between a semi-formed plan and none at all, the choice is already made.”

With that, Anakin jumped into his ship and took off into the night. Obi-Wan sighed, leaning his head into his palm. He knew how much you meant to him and he knew of Anakin’s frustration with the Council. They moved slowly, wanting to figure out every angle before jumping into a decision. While Anakin was a brilliant strategist, he tended to act impulsively when someone he loved was in danger. As Anakin traveled further and further from Coruscant, the older Jedi could only hope that the both of you returned home quickly and safely. 

Anakin looked at his ship’s display and cursed when he realized he was low on fuel. He’d been piloting for hours and there was still no sign of you. He was searching out for you with the Force and, still, nothing. Finally, he felt a faint energy pulse through the Force. He followed it to what was supposed to be an old abandoned Separatist base, concerned by how weak your lifeforce felt. 

He parked the ship and got out carefully, trying not to alert anyone to his presence. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it. He saw an open door and ran through it, relief blinding him as he felt your energy grow stronger with each step he took. He turned the corner and saw a crumpled body on the floor of a tiny cell.

No, Anakin thought, it can’t be her. 

Without thinking, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, wanting to use the light to discern if the figure was truly you. The noise bounced off the walls and startled you awake. He mentally cursed himself and instinctively turned off the saber, not missing the even louder noise it made with it turned off. He inwardly facepalmed, realizing if he hadn’t alerted the guards before, they sure as hell knew now. 

You blinked groggily, wincing at your immense injuries and bruises. You remembered passing out while that asshole beat you and now you-

Wait, You thought, is that a fucking lightsaber?

You knew you must have heard it wrong, there’s no way the Council would have approved a relief mission this quickly. Further, there is no way it would consist of just one Jedi. 

Suddenly, the lightsaber re-lit, illuminating your boyfriend’s face. His determined expression grew stronger as he noticed the 10 guards surrounding him and pointing their blasters directly at his head. You smiled. He could take out ten guards with his eyes closed. You called to him in shock, hardly believing your eyes. He looked at you and immediately widened his eyes as he saw a guard come up behind you and point a blaster directly at you from outside your cell. 

“Lightsaber on the floor, Jedi, or the girl dies.” The guard growled. 

He looked at you in anguish and you could tell he was already beating himself up for “messing up” your escape plan. You shook your head, hoping he understood your message: this isn’t your fault. 

“Anakin don’t-” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before his weapon was on the floor. He put his hands on his head. As they grabbed him, you stood in helpless silence as they threw him in the cell beside you. They locked the doors and, once again, you were in darkness. 

You desperately crawled to the edge of your cell, trying to reach out to him. He was doing the same and when you felt his fingertips against yours, you almost started sobbing. You weren’t alone anymore.

“You came for me.” Your voice was soft, disbelief lacing your words. 

“Of course I did, my love.”

Then, as if everything finally registered in your brain, you reached out and tried to slap his arm. “Anakin, what about the Council? They’ll kill you when they realize you went on a rescue mission, alone, and without approval! Ani, the only thing keeping me going in here was knowing that you were safe! And now you’ve gotten yourself thrown right next to me, no weapons, no light, no food, no water, no escape! What the fuck are we going to do?!”

Anakin had opened and closed his mouth multiple times throughout your speech, trying to find a way to plead his case but was left without one. 

“I just wanted to save you.” The grief in his voice made you sigh and take a step back. This was your Anakin you were talking about. Your safety was his priority, always. Besides, doing all this because he was afraid for you? You couldn’t possibly stay mad. You smiled, despite yourself. Anakin. You thought, slightly shaking your head. 

“Fuck, I love you. Is it selfish that there’s a small part of me that’s glad you’re here with me?” You said, breaking the silence. 

Anakin breathed out a sigh of relief, glad you weren’t upset with him anymore. “Not at all, my love. So long as it isn’t bad that my least favorite part of this is not being able to see or kiss you properly because of this damn darkness.”

You chuckled, lacing your fingers with his once again. “You wouldn’t want to see me right now.”

Anakin froze. “Y/N? What are you talking about?” His voice was serious, clipped. He knew you would try and make it seem less than it was. You winced, realizing there was no way to lie your way out of this one.

“Just what the Separatists would call aggressive negotiations, I presume.”

“How bad?”

“It’s fine, Ani, I promise. Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?”

Anakin took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Alright. But as soon as we get back you’re going to a medical droid.”

You groaned. “Anakin I hate-”

“I know you hate the medical droids. But that’s only because they always rat you out when you try and lie to me about the extensiveness of your injuries.”

“You lie about how bad your injuries are, too! Remember that one time you came back from Kamino?!”

Anakin laughed, despite himself. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You were literally bleeding from the head! And you said, and I quote, ‘it’s just a scratch’” Every time you thought back to that day, you were incredulous. 

“Alright, alright! Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“That’s my line!”

“Y/N,” He warned.

You smiled. Maker, you missed him. You honestly didn’t think that anyone else would have you laughing while you were beaten and captured. 

“Okay. What’s the plan?” Anakin said, back to the matter at hand.

You lowered your voice, leaning toward his cell so you could talk without being heard. “I snuck a knife in with me and I’ve been able to keep it a secret. Now that you’re here, it might actually come in handy. The problem was that I couldn’t stab anyone because no one would come into the cell. I need you to get them here. Push them against the side of your cell, the one closest to me, and I’ll stab them. Then while they’re hurt, you run out, unlatch my cell, and we’ll go.”

“I’m dating a fucking genius!” You could just about hear the smile in his voice. 

You smirked. All things considered, you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“When do you want to do this?”

“They bring daily food and water rations in the morning, I think? I can’t exactly tell what time it is, they’ve kept it so dark and isolated. Regardless, the next time they come by I need you to get them in here. They normally just leave the food outside and push it under the door.”

Anakin could hear the disorientation in your words and wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, to be able to hold you and reassure you that it would all be alright. 

“Okay, angel. Got it.”

“Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming to get me. It’s really good to hear your voice.”

“Always, my love.”

Both of you silenced when you heard those footsteps. You smiled for the first time as you heard them. We’re going to get out of here.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Y/N! This brick in here is loose!” Anakin announced loudly. You bit your cheek to suppress a smile as you watched Anakin catch the guard’s attention.

“What did you say, Jedi?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Anakin responded, dramatically feigning innocence. 

The guard huffed and you internally cheered as he roughly opened the door. He walked over to your boyfriend, keeping the blaster pointed at him. As soon as the guard’s attention shifted to the “loose” brick, Anakin used the force to knock the blaster out of his hand and push him against the wall of the cell where you slashed his Achilles tendons. 

The guard howled in pain and you knew you had to work quickly if you were to get out of here before the rest of the Separatists found you. Anakin fumbled with the latch on your cell, the immense darkness making it difficult. Finally, he got it open and ushered you out. The both of you took off in a run and he gripped your hand with his metal one as you did so. 

You immediately stopped as you felt his hand roughly pulled from yours. 

“We’ve got you now, Skywalker” The guard said.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You blinked, unsure what he was referring to. Then, you heard an object whipping through the air and on instinct shot your hand out, catching it. You ignited Anakin’s lightsaber that he had summoned to you with the Force, it’s signature buzz making you feel powerful beyond words. 

The light caught you off guard and you squinted until your eyes adjusted. You saw Anakin held back by two guards. Hearing faint footsteps, you took off in a run. Anakin ducked as you swung wildly, hitting and taking out both guards.

“You done holding us up?” You said, extending your hand toward him once more and passing him his lightsaber. 

Anakin smiled, accepting it. “My sincerest apologies.” 

You both ran, hand-in-hand, until you finally made it to the exit.

“What?” You said, as Anakin stopped abruptly and looked at you, panicked. 

“The ship! It’s out of fuel!”

“It’s what?!”

“I-” Anakin and you stared at each other, flickers of doubt coming into your gaze. You can’t believe that you’d been able to escape for nothing. 

“Anakin! Y/N!”

You whipped your head around at the sound and were met with another ship a few meters down, Obi-Wan piloting it.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?” You and Anakin looked at each other in shock before taking off in a sprint, one guard now close behind you. 

He started shooting and Anakin pulled out his lightsaber, deflecting some of the shots. As he focused on that, you pulled your knife back out of your boot and sent it flying into the guard’s chest, effectively stopping his pursuit. 

Anakin smirked at you, awestruck. You shrugged before jumping into the ship, extending your arm to Anakin and helping to pull him up with you. You entered and immediately leaned against the wall of the ship, relief coursing through you. You laughed and Anakin joined in. He immediately pulled you into him, kissing you hard. 

He broke away from the kiss, looking at you with adoration. “You are a fucking badass!! You’ve never even held a lightsaber and between that and your fucking tiny knife you took out four guards!! I didn’t even get any! I’m not going to lie, Y/N, I’m a bit jealous.”

You laughed, leaning into him but wincing. As the adrenaline wore off, your pain was suddenly quite palpable. He noticed and pulled back, scanning your face and body. 

His smile fell as the extent of your injuries sunk in. Your busted cheek, scratched face, and ripped clothing that exposed some of your many bruises across your torso and limbs were overwhelming. 

“You kids alright in there?” Obi-Wan said, walking in from the cockpit. His smile died on his face as well as he took in your form.

“I’m alright, guys. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You said dismissively.

“That doesn’t look like nothing!” Anakin shot back. 

Obi-Wan looked at you apologetically. “Anakin’s right, Y/N. Please, rest. We’ll be back to Coruscant soon.” 

Coruscant! The Senate! “My speech!! Fuck, I had to present my speech! I’ve been gone, what, a week? They’ve probably already voted, Kriff.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “They decided to suspend the vote until you were back, Senator. They truly care for you and your policies.”

Your heart swelled at Obi-Wan’s words. You looked into Anakin’s eyes and saw that he agreed with the statement full heartedly. He took your hand and gently ran his thumb up and down its back. 

“Rest, my love.” He whispered to you, coaxing you to lie down on the coach and pulling off his Jedi cloak. He wrapped it around you as a makeshift blanket, smiling as you pulled it closer to you and drifted off. 

Obi-Wan walked up to Anakin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s leave her be, okay?”

“I don’t want her to wake up when I’m not here.”

The elder Jedi nodded in understanding. “She’s exhausted, she won’t awaken until we get back to the temple, I assure you. And if she does, you’ll just be in the other room.”

Anakin looked at you once more before smoothing the hair back from your face and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. He let his palm run down your cheek before he finally pulled himself away and walked into the cockpit with Obi-Wan. 

“So, how did you plan pan out?”

Anakin looked at his former Master, unamused. “I think you already know. How’d you know to come get us, anyway?”

“Well, when you didn’t come back or even attempt to contact the Council for over a day I assumed something had happened. I tracked your ship.”

Anakin nodded. “If not for Y/N, we’d probably both be dead.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I heard! Four guards?! You’ve found yourself a good one.”

Anakin smiled. No words were needed, everyone knew that was completely and utterly true.

------

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[illuminatedquill]

Nevertheless, Episode 9

More Thoughts/Analysis

“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.”

- E.A. Bucchianeri

Jae Eon’s Self Sabotage

Chekov’s Gun is the dramatic principle that details within a story will contribute to the overall narrative. You might have heard of this before in its simplest form: if there is a gun shown in Act 1, it absolutely must go off in Act 2 or 3. In episode 9 of Nevertheless, we have this scene right at the beginning:

Yes, that scene. Park Jae Eon sees Yang Do Hyeok standing off to the side as he waits outside Na Bi’s apartment to retrieve his stuff. Na Bi doesn’t know Do Hyeok is nearby. Jae Eon makes the calculation in his head and manipulates his way inside Na Bi’s apartment, knowing exactly what it looks like to Do Hyeok. It’s petty revenge for seeing Na Bi and Do Hyeok together on campus from earlier.

This is the gun. And it backfires on Jae Eon big time. Throughout the entire episode, his acts of sincerity towards Na Bi seem genuine and heartfelt, yet his action in that one scene undermines anything he attempts. It doesn’t work; to his mounting frustration, Na Bi and Do Hyeok continue to talk and meet as if nothing happened.

(We know that’s not the case as seen from Do Hyeok’s alone time but I’ll talk about that later in this post.)

It’s a ticking time bomb and it goes off at last in the rain scene. Nothing is working for him. He is desperate not to lose Na Bi. And he goes off in a drunken rage on Na Bi after she returns home on that fateful rainy night.

And he loses her. The gun goes off. Everything sincere he did turns rotten in Na Bi’s eyes after he reveals his actions. Actions have consequences, always rippling forward and affecting change in moments not yet experienced. He ruined his chances because of his petty cruelty towards Do Hyeok in the beginning. His sincerity only extended towards Na Bi and it was only to get her attention once more.

Jae Eon lost. Not so much to Do Hyeok, as he lost to Na Bi, who cares about him deeply. He underestimated her feelings towards Do Hyeok, assuming, like so many other viewers, that he was an an irritating distraction that refused to go away.

He can’t fathom why Do Hyeok still seems to like Na Bi after seeing them enter her apartment together. Is he really that incredible a person? What makes him so special?

Well, let’s talk about it.

Do Hyeok’s Crisis Playbook

We see from Do Hyeok’s time alone after his initial visit to Seoul that he is taking it pretty hard; I can’t really blame him, considering what he saw that night. His struggle is open, honest, and raw; like Na Bi, it affects him to the point that he can’t focus on his work (anyone seem to notice that Jae Eon’s work never seems to be affected by his feelings?).

It’s jealousy and insecurity eating away at him. Just like Jae Eon. He’s also desperate not to lose Na Bi but doesn’t want to do anything untoward or overboard because he’s afraid of ruining their friendship. Once again, his consideration is for Na Bi and how she feels, but he cannot ignore what he saw and how he feels about it.

So, what is our favorite Potato Boy to do? Park Jae Eon already made his move by staging that whole scene of him and Na Bi going into her apartment together. How does Do Hyeok fight back? What’s his playbook in this time of crisis?

He doesn’t fight back. And that’s how he stays in the game. Do Hyeok is not a player like Jae Eon; there isn’t a manipulative or deceptive bone in his body. Do Hyeok does what he always does and doubles down on his sincerity, on the strength of his feelings, and his faith in Na Bi.

Do Hyeok doesn’t play the game Jae Eon tries to involve him in. He always lays it all out on the table with Na Bi so there is no room for misunderstandings. That’s one of the reasons why their relationship works so well; they talk more. Not just about feelings or romance but about school or their day to day life. What they’re building now is something that can last a lifetime.

So he talks to her about it. And admits his jealousy. She wasn’t even aware that he had seen them and yet it sounds like he’s the one who is apologizing (even though he never let his hurt feelings show in his conversations with Na Bi, DO HYEOK YOU ARE TOO GOOD). He lays himself bare to her once more. We don’t see Na Bi’s response other than her shocked and guilty expression, which is annoying because it would definitely be interesting to see how she reciprocated his frankness.

(Underrated super cute scene between them in this episode; when they meet up at night and bring drinks for each other. It’s even the exact same drink. I was grinning like a maniac.)

But Na Bi is familiar with Jae Eon’s game. And when she finds out how badly Do Hyeok was hurt by Jae Eon’s actions (and how he involved her in it) Na Bi finally is snapped to her senses and severs the thread still binding her and Jae Eon together.

Na Bi’s choice isn’t shown as a redemptive or heroic moment. It never was supposed to be. Although I’m sure a lot of us were cheering in that moment, her moments of unrestrained grief alone afterwards are the sobering reality that love, as always, comes with a price.

Nabi’s Choice (The Review)

This is a follow up to my earlier post before episode 9 came out. So, now we see what Na Bi decides and, maybe, how it will all play out in the next episode (barring any last minute twists).

First, let’s address the still ongoing criticism I see regarding Na Bi and Do Hyeok’s relationship: lack of passion, no romantic vibes, blah blah blah. I wrote at length in a previous post why that isn’t true - at least on Do Hyeok’s part (one of the reasons why we don’t get internal monologue from Do Hyeok is because what else is he thinking about other than Na Bi?).

Na Bi, on the other hand, is still ambivalent about her feelings towards Do Hyeok. Episode 9 provided more clarity for her stance towards Jae Eon - he’s the dog shit she stepped on and was promptly wiped away in the grass - but Do Hyeok is still a mystery. Yes, she’s friendly, she cares, and genuinely enjoys being with him but the spice, the passion is missing. And that is kinda important for a romantic relationship.

Well. Look no more. Na Bi has spice for Do a Hyeok and it shows not once, but twice this episode. Where’s the passion? Jae Eon fucked around and found out. Very kind of him. Turns out Na Bi, like all of us who like Do Hyeok, will not tolerate any Do Hyeok slander and I am 100 PERCENT here for it.

There’s a scene shortly before the climatic rain fight where Na Bi is having another meeting with her assistants: the junior (does he have a name? Jin-su?) and Jae Eon. The junior talks to Na Bi about her and Park Jae Eon: the usual tired gossip of whether or not they’re dating. Na Bi waves it away like dandelion fluff.

And then the junior mentions Do Hyeok. “What about the noodle shop guy? Ever since the camp meeting, people have been saying there’s a higher chance you’re dating him.”

And Na Bi just . . . we’ve never seen this from her before, even when she broke up with Jae Eon in episode 5. Her whole demeanor turns ice cold and her voice is wicked sharp as she proceeds to shut down that avenue of questioning. The junior physically leans back from the force of her anger and wonders aloud why she’s so upset (you’re talking about her love life as gossip, idiot, why do you think she’s so upset). Jae Eon walks in and doesn’t see the foreshadowing; he just hears Do Hyeok and it feeds his jealousy.

There it is, everybody. Evidence of Na Bi’s feelings for Do Hyeok and what he means to her. Her protectiveness over him and her refusal to let him be involved in the drama surrounding herself and Jae Eon. Her desire to be the better around him; not because he asks (and he would never) but because his feelings for her make her think she might be worthy of such a love.

And then there’s the rain scene. Na Bi and Jae Eon, vulnerable in the rain. Na Bi admits to her faults in the relationship, how she brought this upon herself. No, she hasn’t been nice or good this whole time; in fact, she’s been kind of terrible. But Jae Eon revealing what he did and how it was to hurt Do Hyeok wakes her up and convinces that the time has come to end this “game”. It got Do Hyeok hurt because of her inability to end it with Jae Eon and good people don’t let that happen to people they care about.

So Na Bi ends it with Jae Eon and chooses herself. At last. And to do so, she has to cut out this malignant tumor of a relationship and, God, does it hurt so much to end it, but she gets it done and takes the first step to being a better person for herself.

The cinematography in this drama is top tier and we see her situation presented so viscerally. She’s alone, in the light, but it’s not a warm, redemptive light; it has a sickly, yellow tint and is surrounded by darkness.

But she’s still there. She still made it.

One Last Observation, I Promise

Last thing I noticed from this episode that I want to talk about: the professor’s critique of Na Bi. She specifically mentions that a good artist can inspire others and Na Bi, whether she realizes it or not, actually does do that.

Na Bi helps Do Hyeok with his videos, giving advice that helps boost their popularity and making them better.

Jae Eon is inspired to make the butterfly bracelet for Na Bi and gifts it to her.

The difference between the two? Do Hyeok actually thanks Na Bi for her help and points out that it was her influence that made his videos better.

Jae Eon obviously means his gesture to be romantic and sincere but he again fails to talk about why he’s doing it. The implication is there but Na Bi needs more than some vague nonsense.

Communication is at the heart of this episode and how, without it, relationships stagnate and fail. Bit Na + Gyu Hyun and Soljiwan couple - their relationships only progress because the couples voice their concerns and fears to one another. And instead of being rejected or being hurt, it allows their partners to reassure them and move forward with their relationship.

Why do Na Bi and Jae Eon fail? They. Don’t. Talk. Na Bi is stuck inside her head and Jae Eon relies on vague gestures and sexual chemistry to express himself.

Why do Na Bi and Do Hyeok succeed? Because they talk. About everything. Their dialogue is clear and honest and sincere without any hidden meanings or motives. And you see why Na Bi is rapidly moving more and more towards Do Hyeok and not Jae Eon.

(The preview does raise some questions about how it will all end but I don’t think the show is going to pull a bait and switch and have Na Bi end up with Jae Eon. I also don’t think it’s likely they’ll have an open ending, either. I’ll talk about that in another post.)

My next post will be what I envision to be the best version of a Na Bi and Do Hyeok endgame and what I mean by that since Na Bi shouldn’t be dating anyone right now. So, look forward to that.

Until next time, everybody. Thanks for reading this long ass post. Hope you enjoyed it.

#jtbc nevertheless #nevertheless #kdrama #han so hee #chae jong hyeop #song kang #yu na bi #yang do hyeok #park jae eon

[eleanorbloom]

Moonlight: Part One.

Disclaimer: Open Heart and most of the characters are owned by Pixelberry. Matilde is a creation of mine.

Book/Pairing: Open Heart / Bryce Lahela x F! MC (Matilde Luna)

Word Count: 1.9k Warnings/Rating: Few curse words/Teen.

Author's Note: I must confess I'm scared AF of sharing this with you. First POV is a challenge. Matilde has a whole different personality compared to Eleanor. And with her I'll share some of my deepest struggles and insecurities. That's why it took me so many months to finally realease this story to the world. Anyway, hope you enjoy it ❤

Taglist: @dalishessence @curiousconch @chocopeppermintcake @utterlyinevitable @secretaryunpaid @kachrisberry @romereadingshop @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!

______

Part One. Encounter with the Sun.

When you spend so much time in the darkness, it's inevitable to feel blinded by the light.

It’s dazzling.

You don’t see anything at first, your eyes hurt. They burn.

Then, when you’re able to detect the things around you, you feel good, even amazed by the new perspective, the colors, the depths, the lengths, the shining. The new world before you.

After a while, however, you feel overwhelmed by it. By the spotlight that gives you. How observed and judged you feel and how out of place you realize you are.

So you miss your old friend, the darkness. The intimacy of it. How it covers your flaws, your fears, your insecurities, your lackings. Your secrets. The secrets you don’t even know you’re keeping.

When you're invisible it's just you and your deepest thoughts and desires. No exposition, no need to cover your flaws, or make an effort to fit in.

You're safe from the constant awkwardness for feeling different.

That’s what happened to me when I met Bryce Lahela. His light dazzled me. It made me see the world bright, as I'd never seen it before.

But soon I realized it wasn’t for me. I belong to the darkness, and there’s not so much a person from the darkness can do with a person with so much light like him.

Or that's what I thought.

It was my first day of Residency when I met him, walking hurriedly to the locker room, covered in blood and lost in my thoughts. Orientation with the new interns was about to start in five minutes, so I couldn’t show up with my scrubs stained with blood from the Thoracotomy I just had done.

I was so deep in my thoughts and worries that I didn’t realize there was someone around the corner of the lockers until I bumped directly into him, my face almost burying on his toned, bare chest if it wasn’t because he had quicker reflexes than me.

“Woah there,” he said, surprised, and then his firm hands grabbed me by the arms.

“Sh…” I stopped instantly, reminding myself I was in my workplace, so I couldn’t be cursing as I pleased, much less in front of a person I hadn't met before.

“Damn, I’m…” I tried to say instead, but as I looked up, my words choked in my throat.

Damn indeed.

A pair of brown eyes looked at me curiously but warmly. But damn, damn, damn. He was handsome, so handsome it seemed like a hallucination.

Fuck, people can be this handsome in real life? I thought, as I was taking in the sight of him: dashing broad smile, eyes wrinkling in a playful grin. And all that was complemented with toned, perfect abs, illegal triceps, and divine hair. I could swear my hair never looked that gorgeous.

But the way he looked at me, even casually, was disarming. Just one look and he had me all inspected. And for some reason, I couldn't stop staring at him. There was something hypnotizing about him. Inevitable.

“Are you okay?” he asked a few moments later, as he noticed my speechlessness.

I blushed instantly. Oh my god, how much I stared at him like an idiot?

“Or are you already getting all the fun without even starting your shift yet?”

I sighed, thanking internally that he was talking about the blood on my scrubs and not about my embarrassing loss for words because of his appearance.

“I’m sorry, yes,” I said, shaking my head as I kept walking toward my locker, my cheeks flushing in a beet red in a matter of seconds, “Just a thoracotomy in the waiting room, that’s all.”

He chuckled as I was opening my locker to put my things inside, ignoring the anxiety washing over me slowly.

“Way to start the year, are you new too?”

“Y… Yeah,” I stuttered, begging internally he wasn’t looking directly at me at that moment. I didn't dare to check if it was the case.

By this point, I was used to changing clothes in front of lots of strange people, but it was always difficult doing it for the first time in a new place, so I tried to overcome my self-consciousness and simply tugged my stained scrubs out, ignoring the fact that he could see my curvy body in my simple black underwear.

After a lot of effort, I was a couple of years past feeling embarrassed by my body. I had finally accepted it the way it was -way off commercial beauty standards: chubby, fluffy, full of stretch marks and cellulitis-, but coming to terms with the fact that other people wouldn't think the same is completely different. There are always looks and awkward smiles, sometimes opinions. So this time I couldn’t help but feel a little shy about it, much more considering how handsome and sporty he was. It made me feel judged even if he wasn’t even judging me at all.

“Internal medicine?” he asked once I was with my fresh scrubs on. I turned around and found him with green scrubs instead, leaning against the lockers with a relaxed smile. There wasn't anything uncomfortable about his features.

“Yup,” I said sharply, giving him a quick glance before sitting down to lace up my black Chuck Taylors.

But then I felt the strange need to say something more.

I don't know why.

Any other day I would've replied and then acted like that conversation never happened. I hate small talk. But there was something that persuaded me to ask him something in return. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn’t expecting he would keep talking to me. Maybe I just wanted to repay the kindness. He could've just ignored me but he didn't.

“You?”

“Surgery,” he said grinning, fixing his hair with enviable naturality.

Oh, of course. Of course the living embodiment of Adonis would be a surgical bro. I should've known.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I shook my head.

“What?” He asked, with a puzzled look.

“Nothing,” I assured, still smirking while I was closing my bag before putting it back inside my locker.

“If you say so,” he shrugged before standing straight and checking his watch, “Are you ready? We can go to the Atrium together if you want. Considering we’re going to the same place.”

I froze in place for a moment.

I never expected something like that.

First, to interact with someone in my first hour at the hospital. Socializing wasn’t my forte so this felt like I was doing my first friend at playschool, even if this would bethe first and last time I'd talk to him in my life.

Second, to keep interacting with him after the usual pleasantries. He could’ve just greeted me and then done as nothing happened. Like I would’ve done it if it wasn't because my brain was pushing me to talk to him.

Third, that he would want to keep interacting with me despite how weird I acted and that I somewhat laughed at his face a few seconds ago.

“Y-Yeah, sure,” I said trying to conceal the slight shaking in my voice, and followed him outside the room.

“I’m Bryce Lahela, by the way,” he added, extending his hand to me as we started walking towards the exit.

“Matilde Luna,” I said in response, shaking his hand. His caramel skin felt smooth and warm on my palm.

“Nice to meet you, Matilde Luna. You have a really beautiful name.”

“Your name is pretty nice too,” I said without thinking too much of it, in my effort to hold the conversation even if I didn’t know what else to say.

When I turned to look at him, I could swear the ghost of a sad smile was concealed behind his -seemingly- signature smirk.

I frowned, wondering why that was. It was just a compliment to his name, how could I be wrong about something so simple as that?

But a moment later, that sadness was gone. As if it never happened, he grinned at me again.

“Do you have any friends or acquaintances from Med School here?” he broke the silence again, as we were reaching the stairs.

“I… I actually don’t know much,” I confessed, looking directly on the staircases before me. I couldn't care less about my classmates, honestly, but at that moment I felt bad for not knowing. Maybe guilty for my indifference. “I think a guy is in Peds and another girl is in Neuro?”

“Where are you from?”

“U-Dub. Washington.”

“Ah, cold and rainy. You won’t suffer too much with the climate here then.”

“Yup, I like it rainy.”

“You’re nuts!” He exclaimed, with an overacted shocked expression.

“Oh, let me guess why the gratuitous insult, you're from California, right?”

Bryce turned to me, perplexed, “Guilty as charged, what gave me away?”

“Mmm besides your tan and your surfer highlights?”

“Ouch, talk about gratuitous insults!”

“Just payback, ” I laughed heartily, “No, actually it’s your accent. I did my undergrad in Berkeley.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “Makes sense.”

“Which part of Cali?”

“Stanford.”

Surgical bro from Stanford. La crème de la crème. Why was he even talking to me?

Just he replied, we entered the Atrium and found interns of all sorts of specialties gathered around place, waiting for the Chief to make her appearance.

My stomach churned at the huge amount of people before me. All these new people I'd have to meet and work with. To deal with.

But it didn't matter. If this was the price I had to pay to do what I love, to make her proud, so be it.

I took a deep breath, psyching myself to what was about to come, “This is for you, mama.”

And just the thought of her seemed to soothe whatever anxiety I was feeling at that moment.

“Well, Matilde Luna,” Bryce announced, after both observed the crowd in silence for a couple of seconds, “Time to meet my competition now. Good luck with yours.”

I looked up at him instantly, surprised by the slight tremor concealed in his voice. But there was nothing there. Bryce was already grinning at me, his caramel skin glistening against the morning sunlight. Melting as if they were just the same thing. But I could tell his smile wasn't reaching his eyes as before.

“Thank you, you too, ” I said as I watched him striding toward a group in green scrubs, each step taken with resolve.

But after a few feet, he stopped and slowly turned in my direction, a twinkle of honey piercing directly at me, “See ya later? ” he quizzed.

I arched an eyebrow at his question.

See ya later.

And made an effort not to snort.

With the sea of interesting people in this hospital, you won’t even remember my face by the end of the day, so don’t bother.

But I played along, it was the least he deserved for being so friendly with me that morning.

“See ya later,” I promised, convinced it was in vain. This would be the last time I would exchange words with him.

At that moment, though, I couldn’t even imagine how wrong I would be.

----

Thank you so much for reading!!!

#bryce lahela #open heart #playchoices #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #open heart fic #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #choices #choices stories you play #oh choices #pixelberry

[stresseddepressed-student]

Chapter Nine:

Unfortunately, Potter was powerful and uncontrolled so his magic refused to keep itself contained. Stupid dumbass idiot who didn’t know how to control himself.

“Potter, your presence is messing with the delicate potion in the cauldron, please remove yourself.” Draco tried his best to keep his voice level, to be bigger than him, to not sink down to his level. He really didn’t want any conflict with Potter this year. It would be difficult enough without Potter Problems.

He finished mincing the wings of the Hercules beetle, wincing as he eyed the poor bastard who was still crawling around his tank. Now that he was wingless, his only purpose would be to breed one last time and then be tossed into a Fortis Invigorate potion. Draco felt a lot like the beetle, he had no life other than to be used and trapped in a glass tank. He then minced the Aconite, admiring the purple flakes created as he cut.

He cast a discreet tempus, 3:00, damn it, it's been 3 hours since he started the potion. If he was going to be successful in any way, he needed to put the wings and flakes in now. He gracefully turned, holding the cutting board in one hand and the knife in the other. He kept his gaze on the cauldron, refusing to spare Potter a glance, slowly he scraped the ingredients bit by bit. Wolfsbane was particularly difficult and if he wanted to get this right, he would need to be patient.

“What are you making?” Potter insisted, coming up closer.

Draco looked up into his eyes, barely biting his tongue at the disgust in the other boy's eyes. He glanced down, tracing the sweat and water that left trails on his brown torso and down into his pants. His trousers were hanging perversely on his hips, heavy with exertion and water. Draco could see the other boy's hip bones, the defined muscles eating away his stomach, rounded strong pecs. And his shoulders, Draco was sure that Potter could probably carry him easily and Draco was quite muscle-laden himself. His legs would definitely help him, they were thick, strong, the kind of thigh perfect for spreading his-

Draco turned away, thanking his father for the years of training in keeping his emotions out of his voice, “I don’t answer to you, Potter. Please, escort yourself to the showers as you are in fact messing with a highly volatile potion. Thank you.”

He went back to the book, listening to Potter's steps as he came closer. He inhaled sharply, the smell of rain and musk robbing him of his senses.

Draco didn’t dare turn as Potter whispered in his ear, his spine-tingling, “you’re up to something Malfoy and I’m going to find out. I’m going to figure you out and when I do, I’ll ruin you.”

You already have.

Potter stepped back and Draco could practically hear the sneer painting on his full lips. Draco finally looked up as Potter walked away, burying a groan at the sight of his muscled back and broad shoulders. He looked like a man. His trousers were barely being held up by the curve or his arse, Draco could see his pants peeking out, darkened by sweat and water. Draco knew he was absolutely fucked if this was his reaction to Potter after working out. Draco hadn’t missed how tight his pants looked around his front, Draco resisted the urge to lick his lips.

Merlin.

He felt like a pervert, he needed to get his mind out of the gutter and focused back on the potion before him. He wanted to figure out a way to make the potion better in every way-- taste, texture, effectiveness, cost of production-- anything to fix the things he broke.

Turning the flame off, he carefully poured the potion into the vials, closing them so they could ferment. They should be done by the next full moon so he had about a month or so before it had to be perfect. He wasn’t sure who would accept his potion but he wanted to perfect it before he showed it to Minerva. He rolled his back, stretching the aching muscles as he leaned over the book.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Draco whirled around, his mother's wand discreetly tucked by his side-- poised to strike. He relaxed once he recognized the dirty blonde hair and shy smile-- Astoria Greengrass.

He relaxed his mouth into a subdued smile, only the barest hint of teeth peeking through. “Astoria,” he acknowledged, nodding respectfully.

Her smile curved even more, a pretty red thing that for anyone else would have signaled something seductive, but Draco was so gay that the promise held in her lips did nothing to excite him. “Draco, how are you?”

Still, it's a lot easier to get information from a distracted person and there had to be a reason Astoria was here. He hoped she wasn't here for some nefarious purpose but soon remembered her family played a minimal role in the war, far less so than his friends' families.

He crossed his arms, flexing purposefully to see if her eyes followed the movement. They did. “I am well. Or as well as I can be considering my circumstances. And you? How is your sister?”

Her nostrils flared, once, then twice. The slightest expansion of the curve of her nose that promptly settled back into its natural state. “She is well, the climate agrees with her. Theodore, Tracy, and Millicent are there as well.”

“Yes I heard, Theodore wished to be here, but he found his family in Belgium much more amenable to him being in France than Scotland.”

“England,” she corrected, her smile smaller than before. “We’re in England.”

“Only for those who haven't learned otherwise.”

She turned her head away from him, her focus instead on the cauldron glowing purple with the remnants of his work. He decided to interrupt her before she asked any more questions.

“You didn’t answer my question,” He let one of the corners of his lips tug upward, his eyes fastened on her-- everything in his posture and countenance used to flirt with her.

She lifted her chin, tilting her head to one side to expose her neck. “What question?” she demurred.

He stepped closer, “how are you?”

“I am better now that I’m here.” She stepped back and he followed her until they were walking side by side out of the classroom.

“Here in Hogwarts or here right now?” He guided her away from the empty lab room, walking towards the Slytherin dormitories.

She peered up at him through her dark lashes, “that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He chuckled, a gravelly sound he used when he wanted to sway his victim or seduce them, “well now I’m intrigued by the mystery you present.”

She murmured the common room password, and let him escort her through the dark passage. He tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow, teasing her lightly about spiders and snakes, all the things girls liked to be teased about. It felt a bit surreal if he was being honest, to be flirting and walking through the shadowy corridor like before. Usually Pansy would be the one to have her hand tucked into his elbow, or Blaise, or Theo; Greg and Vincent bumbling happily behind him, messing with his hair, or ticking him just to get a rise out of him. It felt so much like before that Draco's chest hurt a bit, a gentle persistent pressure growing exponentially with each step he took. Finally, they emerged into the softly lit common room although it was oddly packed to the brim.

Astoria guided him to the front where Blaise, Pansy, and Slughorn stood.

“I- I don’t understand? What’s going on?” Draco whispered urgently to Astoria, taking in his friend's smug looks.

Pansy glanced at him before settling her attention on Astoria, “so?”

Astoria pouted, “he did everything you said he would.”

Draco glanced around, bewildered. Blaise was softly giggling, patting Pansy on the back.

Astoria leaned on her tippy toes and kissed his cheek, patting him gently, “thanks for going along, love.”

Pansy grabbed his arm and dragged him to stand next to her, “shut up and I'll explain later,” she hissed, keeping her stiff smile pasted on her face. She was still mad it seemed.

Slughorn stepped forward, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Students, new and old, welcome to Slytherin, your new home. Today we must assign the student advisors, of course, I am always available to the public! I make a point to keep my door open and I'm actually writing a book on teaching principles everyone could apply to their everyday relationships, I’m sure it will be a bestseller so if you want to pre-order your copy be sure to Owl me. An open door rule isn’t the only policy I will write about in fact I-”

Blaise cleared his throat, flashing his eyes at a startled Slughorn.

“Er- right! Today we will elect from these three. Please, er, raise your hand if you would like Pansy Parkinson as an advisor.”

Several murmurs could be heard and Pansy rolled her shoulders nervously. No one was raising their hands and Draco could feel her disappointment.

Draco swallowed his pride, stepping forward, “Professor, If I may?” At Slughorn's nod, he began to address the room, “some of you do not know Pansy, I believe it would be beneficial to have a few testimonies in regards to her and Blaise so that the newcomers may have an accurate picture of them. I would like to go first.”

Slughorn clapped his back, “right you are m’boy. Excellent Idea, have you been reading my early drafts?”

Draco nodded tightly, barely concealing a snicker. He took a deep breath before speaking once more, “Pansy happens to be my best friend and I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things about her from different people. But I would like to tell you she is the most generous person. She will offer you her time, her talent, her knowledge so that you can succeed. More than anything else, she cares about the success of Slytherin as a whole, and if you’re lucky to be her friend, she cares about your personal success. She’s third in our class right behind Hermione Granger and me. She is passionate about her work and a good teacher. Blaise is also my best friend, he’s understanding, he sees you even when you cannot see yourself. And If you find yourself in a snit, he’s the best person to help you get out of it.”

Mitch Creevy stepped forward, looking around nervously, “I'm the first Slytherin in my family, all my cousins are in Gryffindor and neither Draco nor Pansy nor Blaise made me feel any different. Pansy protected me when the Carrows were asking about my bloodline.”

Draco turned back towards his best friends, returning Pansy’s watery smile. Hopefully, this would make her forgive him and see that everything he did was for her good.

Several other people spoke up, each other saying kind things about Pansy and Blaise. Draco tried to ignore the prick in his conscious about the lack of kind words directed at him.

That was until Astoria stepped forward again, her posture relaxed and strong, “I understand many of you are avoiding the controversy of Draco Malfoy but we must not forget all that he’s done for us. He showed us how to fake curses and hexes or lower the intensity when we were forced to attack our fellow classmates. He fought in the war against the Dark Lord-”

“After he let them in!” retorted a student. A chorus of agreements and Draco looked down at his feet, it wasn’t like he could contest. He had done that and much more.

“But he fought even against his father.”

“Astoria!” Pansy hissed, her mouth settling into a harsh line.

it was becoming hard to breathe for Draco, buried his nails into his palm to ground himself. It was for naught, if Astoria didn't stop soon, he was going to have a full-blown panic attack.

“Who do you think put every single captured death eater in prison, who provided the evidence? He was ra-”

“Astoria!” Blaise warned, starting towards her, his eyes flashing gold. Draco felt sick, he didn’t want his secrets uncovered, everything he did, his shame, uncovered. He felt naked under the disgusted stares.

Astoria took a deep breath, “today, he went to his lab to work on a Wolfsbane because he knew that many students, Slytherin or other, could not afford good quality Wolfsbane. He is the only reason Goyle passed his classes, he tutored every single Slytherin falling behind. He is more than his name. I urge you to consider him.”

Mercifully, she didn’t mention Vincent. Draco didn’t think he could handle her mentioning his dead friend, someone rotting in the ground because of him.

Astoria turned towards him, her mouth pinched tightly, she didn’t say sorry, she didn’t like to lie. And even though Draco was close to tears, he admired her tenacity, her passion, her intelligence; he privately thought to himself that she would make a better teacher than Slughorn. She was almost at his level in potions but she had more of an inclination towards being an Auror than anything else. Pity. She had some inane belief she could reform it. She certainly was more ambitious than her sister.

Slughorn looked around nervously, his fingers twitching as the muttering increased. “Have we come to a decision?” he tried.

Leon Moon, the first year from earlier, stepped forward; his shaggy auburn hair reminiscent of Remus Lupin. “Is it true that you’re making wolfsbane for everybody?” he demanded, his tiny figure puffed up.

Draco buried his shock at seeing a miniature version of his old teacher. He nodded, clearing his throat before giving the fierce boy a resounding yes.

Moon glanced around, looking at his fellow first-years to see if they had any objections, “We would like Draco to be our advisor, and Pansy too.”

Everyone agreed with the little boy, save for a few people who grumbled that Blaise should be one of the advisors. Draco snorted, every single one had been one of Blaise's conquests.

Pansy stepped forward, “there can be three advisors. It was more of a matter of choosing who you didn’t want.”

Blaise rubbed his neck, “that’s alright Pansy. I don’t really want the responsibility, but I’m happy to help you guys out along with the 7th years.”

Steeled by everyone's vote of confidence and the trust in her eyes, Draco stepped forward again. “Then it’s settled,” Draco said, his voice clear and determined. “Pansy Parkinson and I will be your advisors. Professor Slughorn, are you prepared for a swearing ceremony?” Draco didn't even know why he asked, the man definitely didn't understand the sort of commitment Slytherin had towards each other.

Draco rolled his eyes as Slughorn babbled, snapping his fingers to request Mipsy.

Mipsy arrived with a pop and several first years gave a surprised yelp. She punched her fist onto her hips, looking up at him expectantly, “Yes Master Draco?”

“You can’t have a personal elf apparate in and out of Hogwarts wards!” Slughorn fretted, his chest puffing as he tried to assert his dominance. What he didn’t realize was that Draco took responsibility seriously, took vows seriously, and this was both. Slughorn didn’t even want to be the head of house for Slytherin.

Mipsy answered him before Draco could, “I work in kitchens, missus Minnie allow me to work by Master Draco.”

Draco smiled, “Thank you, darling. We’re going to do a blood oath, do you mind notarizing?”

“Elves cannot notarize!” Slughorn complained. Oddly enough, he had no qualms about performing a blood oath, something considered dark magic but he had a problem with Elves becoming Notaries. Typical.

“Certainly Master. Raise you's hand.”

Both he and Pansy raised their right hands, Draco remembered that he was mostly naked save for his shirt and he tucked his left arm tightly into his side. Though it was useless, a lot of people probably saw his mark.

“Speak vows now.”

Pansy went first, “I Pansy Minato Parkinson, vow to protect, encourage, defend, teach, and care for the students under my care.” She tapped her wand against her palm and a sliver of blood fell onto the stone floor. The stone glowed green before absorbing the blood and returning to its natural gray.

Draco stepped forward, his wand poised, “I Draco Lucius Siran Malfoy-Black, vow to protect, encourage, defend, teach, and care for the students under my care.” He pressed the wand against his palm, shivering under the surge of magic slicing his skin. The blood dripped down his wand, spiraling around the natural grain of the dark brown wood, the single drop falling into the stone, glowing a blinding silver that lasted a lot longer than Pansy’s had.

He could feel his peers' eyes on him and titled his chin up, not meeting anyone's eyes. He stood back with Pansy and Blaise as the group dispersed, his mouth tight. “Mate I-”

He shook his head, dispelling the apology he knew was to come, his arms clasped behind his back to hide his mark.

Leon came forward, his dark blue eyes glancing wildly around. He coughed and sidled up next to Draco, “Mr. Malfoy sir,-”

“Draco is quite alright.”

The boy flushed and nodded, “I was wondering, I have been, that is, I was wondering if you had finished the potion, I, well I-”

Draco placed a hand on the small boy's shoulder, crouching down slightly, “Leon, you are a smart brave boy, and I'm not going to hurt you no matter how scary I look. It’s okay to ask for things.”

Leon, flushed, scowling, “I'm not a baby, don’t patronize me, I know I can ask for things. This is a secret thing and I've never told anybody else. I was wondering if you could help me during my-” he lowered his voice and leaned closer, “transformations.”

Draco’s smile faltered, the spunky kid was so young, too young to have to be afflicted with this. He nodded, “the night before your transformation, meet me at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.”

The kid flashed him a smile, the ones that come easy when you're smaller no matter what’s happening around you. Draco's eyes burned, visions flashing of the small boy before him losing that smile because of the life ahead of him, of the boy becoming like Lavender. Draco stepped away, casting a sonorous so that everybody in the dorms could hear him, “If you require assistance for your transformation, werewolf or other, please meet me the night before the full moon in the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.”

Pansy’s hand moved towards him but he walked too quickly out of the common room for her to catch him. He ran down the corridor, down the hallway, back to his lab, breathless. He stumbled over the cauldron and retched, bile and vomit spewing from his mouth into the cast-iron cauldron. His yellow vomit smelled so horrible mixed with the wolfsbane, and he vomited even more. A hand found its way onto his back, rubbing soothingly up and down his spine. Smaller hands combed back his hair, holding the fringe away from his sweaty face.

“He’s so young!” he cried to Pansy and Blaise. “He hasn’t lived yet and his life is ruined.”

“It's not ruined,” Pansy answered sharply, “it's not. And even if it was, it’s not your fault.”

He sobbed into the cauldron, everything from him mixing in there, his potion, his bile, his tears, his sweat-- all of it combining to present a reflection of him.

Blaise pulled his shirt off, using it to wipe his mouth and neck, banishing it with a shudder “Come on love, let's go to bed.”

Draco shook his head, dazed, “no, I’ve got to clean up first or Minnie won’t let me back here.”

“Minnie?” mouthed Pansy to Blaise who only shrugged.

Draco summoned a low dose pepper-up charm from his stock already organized in the storage room adjoined to the lab. He gagged as he swallowed the spicy concoction. Shaking his head to clear away the haze of guilt, sickness, and shame.

He conjured a scrub and some soap in a bucket. Pansy summoned another bucket and he hefted the cauldron up to pour the remaining mixture into the spare bucket. Blaise banished the bubbling bucket once it was full and Draco set the cauldron down again. Pansy whistled at his flexed muscles and he threw some soap at her playfully.

He snapped his finger and music played, lately Pansy had gotten them into Spice Girls and oddly enough, an androgynous band named Eurythmics. Wannabe’s poppy beat echoed around the room and Blaise danced comically around the room, swaying his hips and thrusting in the air every so often. He moved his hips as he scrubbed the Cauldron, humming the lyrics under his breath. None of them noticed when the door opened and Neville barreled out of the greenhouse into the lab.

“Uh-” Neville stammered, eyes wide.

Draco paused mid-gyration to stare at the blubbering boy.

“I’m gonna go-” Neville mumbled, running out of the room, leaving a trail of dirt behind him.

“Do you think he-”

“Did you see his face?!”

Blaise and Pansy both hollered at the same time, cutting Draco off. Draco grunted, drawing the attention of his two friends who promptly rolled their eyes at his pinched mouth. He cast a scourgify on the mud tracks, charming a mop to follow Neville’s path.

“Oh, will you wipe off that pinched ferret expression you’ve got!” Blaise called, slapping his bum as he passed by.

Pansy cackled, bent over in exaggerated laughter. “You do look a bit like a ferret, love,” she sighed, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

Draco grunted, wiping his sweaty brow. “Do you think he saw me, so…”

“Human?”

Draco glared at Blaise, who raised his hands in mock surrender. “Disheveled, unprofessional, inelegant, un-Malfoy," he corrected.

Pansy ignored him as she shucked her shirt, though there wasn’t a single drop of sweat on her back or neck. She rolled her bony shoulder as she conjured a scrub and a mop. Casting an Augementi, she started working on the walls, throwing the mop to a pouting Blaise. Draco was at once, filled with relief that his friends, his posh wanker friends, were helping him with the menial task of cleaning.

Pansy didn’t turn away from the wall as she spoke, casting several charms at other conjured scrubs to reach the places she could, “Isn’t that the point, Draco? To be un-Malfoy. To be yourself? Look at what I'm doing! I’m bloody scrubbing the wall, I would have never done that years ago!”

Blaise passed the mop between his hands, “I know you think nobody will believe the person you’ve become, that you’re good, but you don’t help when you shut people out and continue to put up wards around yourself.”

Draco wiped the cauldron down, carefully oiling it to preserve its integrity. “What would you have me do? Scream at anything and everything that I’ve changed, that I’m not a blood purist?! What would you have me say?! “Hey guys, I know you lost a brother, son, daughter, father, mother, friend-- people! But! Guess what?! I’m not a bad guy anymore, see I’m good, I can even shake your hand and I won’t break out in hives!” Yeah, that’s a great idea guys, ” Draco scoffed.

Pansy marched over, grabbing his chin gently with her soft soapy hands, “that’s exactly what you need to do because that is exactly who you are.”

He turned away, his voice weak and resigned, “and if I’m not. What do I do if I'm the same exact person as before?”

Blaise strode to him, cradling the side of his face in his hand, pressing his forehead against Dracos’, “You are. You are good. You deserve good things. You are good.”

Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips against the boy, wanting to have the maker of his affirmation breathing those words into him. There was something venerating about this kiss, about the tenderness of their lips against each other. But too soon did Blaise pull away, looking at him regretfully, “this isn’t what you want.” Draco whimpered and Blaise thumbed his temple, “ it’s okay, I won't take the words away, they’re yours, they're who you are.”

Pansy pulled him off, “go to bed with Blaise, I’ll meet you later after I finish here.”

“No, no I've got this,” Draco objected, pulling his wand out. He conjured more scrubs, mops, and dusters, easily manipulating them to clean the entire room. It was exhaustive on his magical core, especially after the day he just had, but he needed this lab to be spotless for the plan formulating in his mind. With a just wiggle of his fingers, he took over the scrubs Pansy had been manning and the mop in Blaise's hand. Pansy and Blaise gawped at him and a rush of pride swept through him. He walked over the cauldron, hoisting it up to flip it over, he wasn’t able to carry it with just his own human muscles. Sighing, he focused his remaining magic on lifting all of the spare cauldrons and organizing them on the newly cleaned floor. He was just about to set them down when his chest began to ache, a sharp digging sensation that made him stumble back. Pansy and Blaise rushed forward, grasping his sides as keeled over. Thankfully, the very expensive cauldrons were too close to the ground to have any resounding impact.

Blaise whipped out his wand, shouting “Finite Incantatem!” with no success. Dracos magic was too strong for him to make the dizzying cleaning supplies stop dancing around the room.

Pansy tapped Dracos cheek hard, “Draco, stop the spell. It’s hurting you, stop the spell!”

He groaned, his head rolling to one side. With all the strength he could muster, he whispered the spell, his wand falling limply from his hand.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #hp fandom #draco x harry #good draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #bottom draco malfoy #redeemed draco #hermione granger #ron weasley #neville longbottom #top harry #bottom draco #ao3 fanfic #drarry ao3 #drarryfics

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 28: Bow

“So remind me why we’re doing this, if you’d be so kind”, Dia asked.

“You may be an all-powerful warrior with a spellbook in hand, but imagine the utility if you learned something new. Where better to learn than a training ground such as Camp Dragonhead?” Haurchefant reminded her kindly as requested.

“I guess. I don’t necessarily have anything better to do thanks to the Braves, now do I?”

“I hope this might prove sufficiently entertaining during your stay. Here is your weapon.” Haurchefant removed an oaken bow from the wall mount as well as a quiver filled with arrows.

“A bow?”

“Aye. Is aught amiss?” Haurchefant tilted his head at her comment.

“Well, no, I guess…I would have thought you’d recommend something a bit more, er, close combat than that.

“A knight cannot be content with simply one mode of combat. A quick marksman can have just the same impact as the mightiest of swords with the right timing.”

“Yeah, but the sword looks cooler.”

He sighed. “Aesthetics aside, I figured this would be an easier transition. Instead of slinging spells, you would sling arrows.”

“I guess. The bow is definitely a different medium though- easier to aim my hands than this.”

“Who knows? Mayhap you’ll find yourself enjoying it more than you think.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“I’ll try anything once.”

“Attagirl! Now then, here is where you’ll stand.” Haurchefant lead her to a marker about twenty fulms away from a target. “Allow me to give you an example of proper bow handling.” He grabbed his own bow and quiver and prepared at a target next to hers.

“All right, first thing’s first, depending on your dominant hand- based off of what I’ve seen, you appear to be right-handed- you need to place one leg back and another to the front. As a right-handed woman, keep your right leg to the back for support…” Dia listened as he explained form for proper bow handling for about two minutes.

“….and last, but certainly not least, keep your eye on the target. If you’re aligned with your bow, you will hit your mark.” Finally, he demonstrated everything he said in one shot. Carefully, he drew back the bowstring, and fired at the blue and silver target in front of him. It flew skillfully towards the bullseye and landed perfectly, as if he told the arrow to simply go there. “Does this make sense, my friend?”

“I…think so. I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Indeed. Show me what you’ve learned.”

The answer was rather little. She fumbled with the quiver for a moment, failing to get an arrow since she failed to attach the quiver to her person properly. She spun in circles a few times as if she had a mi’qote tail she wanted to catch, but she did manage to get one.

“Got it! Now you said something about a nock”, she mumbled, looking for a slice of metal on the string as he pointed out. “Ah-ha!” she exclaimed quietly as she located it and placed the feathers against it. Slowly, she pulled back the bowstring, but found she couldn’t get it very far back, not to mention her slipping grip on the arrow.

Out of nowhere, Dia felt her arms be lifted upward gently. “Don’t let your elbows fall back into your sides or you’ll never get very far”, he spoke softly into her ear in a low tone. He slid his hands up her arm to her hand and corrected the positioning of the arrow, pulling it slightly backward so she didn’t grip the feathers. “Remember, slightly behind the feathers”, he instructed in the same tone.

Please don’t let go of me, she thought to herself, hoping to every god she could think of that he couldn’t tell how she drank up his warmth, that hot breath against her neck, the way he whispered to her just right, and how it made her heart race.

It only made things worse when he gently took her chin and tilted her head towards the front of her, pressing against his own cheek as he put his face parallel to hers.

“Eyes on the target”, he said just as low before turning his head to her ear, and whispering “Fire.”

She didn’t even register her own grip releasing. She just focused on her racing pulse and the shiver being sent down her spine at his whisper.

“Well done!” he exclaimed aloud, snapping Dia out of whatever the hells that was, and bringing her attention to the target. Her arrow pierced through the edge of the circle near the bottom.

“Uh…I-I didn’t even hit the bullseye.”

“‘Tis your first time, my friend. Many a fresh recruit have sent their arrows flying through our windows, so I consider this a rousing success for your first try!”

Now that he said it, it was rather nice to her that he could see a miss in such a way. To that end, she intended to try again. “Hey, so uh, you might want to help me try that again, Haurchefant. Maybe I’ll hit the bullseye this time with your help”, she suggested meekly.

“Nonsense! You’ll never learn with me hanging over your shoulder. Now then, use what you’ve learned, my friend.”

Dammit, she cursed in her head.

Dia picked up what he led her to do pretty quick, and went through the motions: straight arm, just past the feathers, eyes on the target. She waited a few moments as she felt herself practically fighting the bowstring, but the stage was set.

That is, until she took her eyes away from the target to look at Haurchefant, who seemed to stare her down as well, but why?

She would have thought about it more had she not just grazed his arm with an arrow.

“Oh, Twelve help me!” Dia exclaimed as she threw the bow to the ground to run to his side.

“I’m all right, I’m all right”, he tried to reassure her, but kept his arm conveniently covered. She pulled it away from the wound with great force as he attempted to keep the wound out of her sight. “Gah! I’m so sorry, Haurchefant!” she apologized as she began her ministrations on his arrow wound. “I’m an idiot; I got distracted by something at the last second and that arrow just flew in the exact direction I didn’t want it to go.”

He said nothing. He couldn’t; not when she was right there. The way the aether flowed from her into him electrified his senses. Her firm grip on his arms was exactly what he needed. The way she glistened with sweat in such a frozen wasteland; in this moment, she seemed rather…splendid.

“There. Are you all right?” she asked Haurchefant worriedly.

Halone help him, he needed out of there before he did something he’d regret.

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m fine now, thank you”, he answered rapidly and nervously, “Keep, uh, keep practicing with that bow. I just remembered that I have some business-like…business to attend to in my-my office. Excellent work! Keep it up!” He shot out of the shooting range as fast as he could and entered his office with all haste.

Dia, you fucking idiot, you scared him away. Focus! she berated herself in her head. She picked up the bow one last time, doing exactly as she was instructed, and fired the arrow. It hit the wood that held up the target. “Fuck!” she whispered loudly.

********

The evening sun hanged in the horizon of Ishgard. The golden glow of twilight still shone enough light that the garden she managed to keep alive in the courtyard behind Borel Manor could remain visible. She tended to her peppers and kidragora quietly in spite of the cold. None could make a master botanist stop doing botany, climate be damned.

Once weeds were pruned enough, fertilizer was laid down properly, and covers were applied to keep her labor of love warm through the night, she stepped away. Her garden was located in a different spot of the courtyard, separated by a wall, most likely at the former countess’s request. On that other side of the wall was a small area used to practice combat. Neither her nor Aymeric used the other side all that often; Dia had a proper setup for practicing gunbreaker maneuvers with Thancred back in Mor Dhona, while Aymeric preferred to use the mostly defunct Whitebrim front for his training. With that in mind, she was slightly curious about it, and decided to pay it a visit.

Upon reaching the other side, she took a quick look around. It was painfully obvious how unused everything was considering the frozen state of all the equipment. That said, there was one particular item that didn’t seem to share the same level of disrepair: a dark oak bow, complete with metal arrows in a quiver next to it.

It still hurt. After everything she’d seen and done, after everyone she ever met, after all the sacrifices she’d seen, it still hurt. But still, she always remembered how a smile better suited a hero. Dia picked it up off the wall, alongside a quiver that hung next to it, and stood at the line about 30 fulms behind the target.

The quiver was on correctly this time, making it much easier to pick one out of the collection. She found the nock easily, seeming to have been prepared already, and placed the arrow just above the feather. She placed her right leg back, and lifted the bow, ready to aim. “Arms up”, she whispered as she lifted her arms. “Eyes on the target”, she whispered as she focused on the target.

She could still hear him whisper, “Fire”.

In a moment, she let go of the arrow, and felt a small sting of disappointment as she just missed her mark. It landed on the right between the edge of the target and the bullseye. “Dammit”, she whispered.

“Fine form.”

She turned her head to see Aymeric at the doorway, clearly amused by her attempt. “Come to laugh at your girlfriend and her piss-poor aim?” she snarked, still disappointed in her efforts.

“I would never. Your aim is fine, my dear. That in mind, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lack confidence in something before.”

“You should have met me when I first started adventuring. You’d be floored by how little confidence I’m capable of having.”

He smiled and laughed lightly. Aymeric walked towards her and said, “You look rather dashing with my old bow.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”

“Naught to apologize for, my love. Consider it our bow.” He led her to lift up the bow again. “Your form is quite good, but don’t waver.” He held onto her bow arm to still her arm, and tilted her chin upward, keeping his hand in place. “Align yourself with the bow. Remember, it follows your lead, and you are a natural leader.” She kept her eye on the center of the target.

“Fire”, he ordered in a low tone.

Dia released her grip, and witnessed the glory of her arrow hitting the very center of the bullseye.

She squealed in excitement and hopped in place like a child, making Aymeric laugh in a mixture of pride and amusement. “Congratulations!”

She pounced him and kissed him in her jubilee, and he returned it happily. After a few seconds of enjoyment, she released and told him coyly, “Thank you for being such a great teacher.”

“Where would I be without my star pupil?”

She grinned and returned to kissing him with more passion behind her efforts than the first time, the both of them soaking in each other’s energy and warmth as the evening began to wane.

Thank you too, Haurchefant. I’ll carry your guidance with me always.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #haurchefant/wol #aymeric/wol #haurchefant greystone #aymeric de borel #female wol #this is the stupidest i’ve ever written #i’m looking forward to writing stupider #just spritz those two with cold water and get them laid and they act normal #ffxiv fanfiction #fanfiction

[mangozcat]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lee donghyuck x fem!reader  𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. fluff 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. he hates summer. he has such a hatred for leaving his house, spending time in the burning hot sand and doing anything besides playing video games at home. that’s why, when you suddenly show the boy a piece of your mind about how he stole the corndog you ordered from the truck nearby, he slightly warms up to the idea of summer.

𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎. @marklyxxi​ nik my beautiful ray of sunshine!! I was gonna dedicate this to you even before we talked about it in our dm’s, to be honest. it’s been such a wonderful ride so far, and why not show that in a story? this story was honestly inspired by my original hatred for making mutuals (mainly because of drama on my previous blog) and how you came along and just made it disappear like k bro I see you. much love babe <3, and if you’re reading, I hope you enjoy!

𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑. he enjoyed the trips, liked the sun, but he hated the blistering heat and endless girls at the beach throwing themselves at him, and of course, he’d also just rather be inside. indoors had air conditioning and gaming setups. and what did outside have? some tumbleweeds, most likely. not like haechan left his house enough to know.

overall, summer had far more cons than pros, in his opinion.

that’s why, as he was forced to sit out in the sun, staring out at some ocean shore, he felt nothing but annoyance towards his friend. it wasn’t his choice to be at the beach, he was left with no other option when jeno threatened to take away his computer. after all, who would willingly go to some sand-filled land that always burned your feet, had potentially dangerous sea creatures washing up every day, and held very high risk of death by drowning.

yes, because some people do in fact sign up to be a lifeguard, only to stay on their phone the entire shift without a care in the world for that one swimmer struggling to stay above the water. or several, depending on what business days the ocean chose to show up for work.

“you should maybe stop glaring at the water as if it hurt you,” jeno said, an eyebrow raised as he glanced over at his friend. haechan only responded with a short, meaningless hum beneath his breath. rolling his eyes, jeno took a handful of sand and tossed it in the other’s direction, grinning maliciously.

he merely narrowed his eyes, not amused at jeno’s antics. turning back towards the tide, he muttered under his breath about how gaming would be far more eventful than staring at the ocean mindlessly. to which jeno replied with a curt, “then stop staring at the ocean and be productive, you fucking dumbass.”

haechan was, yet again, not amused.

“look,” jeno said blankly, shaking haechan’s shoulders to grab his attention. the boy looked at him, although reluctantly, through his bangs. “I brought you here to help you get out of that house, idiot. not to torture you or bother you, but because I somewhat care about my roommate.”

“yeah, yeah,” haechan said, huffing out. it might not have been jeno’s intentions, but bringing him to the beach alone was bothersome. what was he supposed to do here? all he knew was online, electronic. and suddenly his environment is changed so drastically that it made his head spin.

what was a gamer supposed to do at the beach, with no electronics?

haechan glanced around, taking in the sight of the beach for what seemed like the first time since arriving. there were plenty of people in the water, splashing around joyously. somewhere down the sandy plain was a volleyball net, where children were tripping while chasing after the ball, not mindful of their feet whatsoever. but, every time, they managed to get up, smile, and return to what they were doing. there was a food truck near the entrance, and he smiled to himself at the sight of one of his favorite things: food.

“and of course, I don’t want you to be a virgin forever,” jeno concluded, making haechan immediately groan. he wasn’t a virgin, and jeno knew that pretty well, but it was always going to be a running joke that he was; all because jeno, and several of their friends, thought that he couldn’t dedicate more to a girl than he was dedicating to his games.

maybe they weren’t too far off. simply elbowing his friend in the side, haechan pointed towards the food truck. jeno grinned at the sight, saying, “oh, so now you’re interested in the beach? wow, if only I had known that all it took was food, I definitely would’ve bribed you sooner.”

“y’know, I suddenly don’t want food anymore.” haechan huffed out, glaring at his friend. jeno immediately frowned, holding up his hands in surrender at the genuine look of annoyance on his friend’s face.

“fine, fine!” jeno said, breaking into a smile as he quickly dropped his hands to tickle viciously at haechan’s sides. the boy yelped out, his cries quickly turning into laughs of both joy and pain. haechan couldn’t determine which was more powerful as his brain quickly mushed over at the brain numbing sensation.

“s-stop it!” he cried out, tears forming in his eyes as he clutched at his stomach with one hand while another weakly reached to clasp around jeno’s wrist. jeno simply laughed loudly, continuing his torment. when haechan finally seemed to have enough (mostly because he was whining about how he was gonna pee himself soon), jeno finally stopped.

giving haechan some time to recover from the abuse, jeno waited patiently, chuckling occasionally at his friend’s expense, until finally speaking. reaching his hands back to haechan’s sides, making him cry out even though he wasn’t touching him, he said, “do you promise to attempt to have fun?”

“n-nope!” haechan said, giggling mischeviously as he tested his friend.

jeno simply shook his head, putting his hands on haechan’s sides finally, ready to start tickling again (but with no remorse this time), hyuck immediately cried out, whacking his hands away. whining about how he was “sensitive”, he finally agreed to attempt having fun at a place he despised.

his first idea had been to go to the food truck. if he was going to have fun at the beach, the only reasonable explanation for it would be the endless supply of snacks in his stomach. of course, it just so happened that when he arrived, they were fresh out of what he wanted most; corndogs.

“well, promise over, I tried. can we go home now?” haechan said eagerly, turning to walk towards the direction of where jeno’s car was parked. instead, he was met with the man’s hand on his shoulder, turning him back around with a tsk under his breath.

“nice try,” jeno said, nodding to himself before straightening his expression completely. “but no.”

haechan whined as jeno pushed him, using both hands on his back to force him forward, sliding him soundly. he started ranting loudly, making jeno groan out as he was forced to carry both his mental and physical weight back to where their towels were on the ground.

“it’s actually impossible to have fun at this place, jen,” he said matter-of-factly, even pointing a finger up to further accentuate his point. “it’s hot outside, the water is freezing- and you know I don’t do well in climates where the temperatures are completely opposites at times! -and they’re fresh out of corndogs, and I have no phone!”

when he didn’t hear a complaint or argument from jeno, he turned around. suddenly realizing that jeno had stopped pushing him at one point and that he was ranting to himself, standing alone in the middle of the beach, he nodded. “ok, well that’s not awkward at all.”

he stumbled over to a nearby towel- one that he swears is his -and sat down, leaning back to stare up at the clouds. realizing that was a dumb idea as the sun burned a simmering beam of light right into his eyes, he covered them. seeing red, rainbow colored specks behind his eyelids, he sighed to himself. he hadn’t even been at the beach for an hour and he was already, as expected, miserable and bored out of his mind.

sitting up, he rested his chin on his knees as he glanced around. he could’ve sworn he left a bag with sweats laying right at the end of the towel. jeno must’ve put them in his car, haechan thought inwardly. continuing his inspection, he suddenly spotted it; a gleaming, greasy, yummy looking corndog.

it was just sitting there, in all it’s glory, making his mouth water.

he deserved the snack. he wasn’t too sure why it was there or how it had gotten there, but he, yet again, assumed that jeno had worked his magic to get him a corndog. after all, he did want the boy to have a good time; and what better way than to get him a corndog, like he wanted?

eagerly reaching his hand toward the plated snack, he immediately bit into the food. it tasted good, but yet again, he expected no different.

until, of course, it was whacked out of his hand with a sandal. haechan immediately yelped at the burning sensation erupting on his hand, rubbing at the soft skin. he glanced up at the attacker, eyes widening when he saw a girl standing before him, looking furiously as she eyed, not him, but the corndog laying in the sand a few meters away.

oh.

well, that’s not good.

he hopped up, sending her a charming smile before darting away, panicking inside as he ran to the opposite side of the beach, where he realized his towel was. fucking dumbass, he said in his head, should’ve realized that wasn’t mine at first.

he had many regrets, but taking a bite of that corndog wasn’t one of them. or at least, he confidently said that in his head before realizing that the girl was right behind him. he turned at the feeling of a tap on his shoulder, having to glance down slightly to meet eyes with her. she had her eyes narrowed, arms crossed over her chest, sandal still in hand.

under any other circumstances, he would’ve found the girl attractive. but he had enough common sense to realize that it wasn’t a moment to fantasize when she looked murderous.

“now listen here, you corndog thief!” she bit out, jutting her bottom lip out in a pout as she thought of her words carefully. cute, he thought as her facade dropped for a moment. “that was the last corndog and I paid four of my precious dollars for it, sir, so you better buy me another one.”

“but they’re out!” he whined, annoyed at the thought of obeying her. she suddenly snapped her head at him, pushing close, looking like a snake ready to bite. he yelped, jumping back a short distance before rasping out a, “ok, ok! fine, I’ll buy you another corndog when they make some more.”

jeno wrapped an arm around haechan’s shoulder, chewing a corndog between his teeth as he grinned at the two. they both looked at him, surprised and furious. he only smiled to himself, taking a slow and teasing bite as he said, “sorry, guys, this is the last one.”

and haechan swore he had never tackled someone sooner.

he still owed the girl a corndog, but when she jumped to immediately help him tickle jeno until the corndog stuck to the sand beneath them, he figured it wouldn’t be so bad if he had to come back to repay his debt.

#lee haechan #lee donghyuck #kpop #writing #for nik <3 #fluff #nct dream #nct 127 #nct fluff #haechan

[marmolady]

New Horizons

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister

Summary: Endless Ending. Liv and Reggie are starting school in San Trobida. Notes at the end!

Word Count: 9695

Chronology: After 'Growing Pains', before 'How the time escapes me...'

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​

Thanks for reading!

San Trobida, July 2035

“Hey, Auntie Grace!”

Reggie looked up from his book at the sound of his cousin’s voice, and hastily placed aside his shiny new copy of ‘A Guide to San Trobidan History’ so he could rush out into the hallway.

Grace was already wrapping Liv in a hug. “Hello, sweetheart.” She kissed the side of her niece’s head, before her eyes wandered down to a bloodied knee. “Did you have a mishap on your bike on the way here?”

“Yeah… I clipped the kerb and crashed,” Liv said, offering her aunt a better view of her wound. As she heard Reggie’s footsteps, she looked up to meet his eye and smiled.

“Youch!” Reggie offered sympathetically as he came close enough to peer over Liv’s grazed knee.

Liv shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Grace, though, was more concerned. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell?”

“No, just scraped my knee. It does actually sting a bit.”

“Hmm. Well, I think we’d better put some anti-septic that knee just to be safe.”

The new house was a mess. Boxes and misplaced furniture filled every room, and the twins-- six years old-- had been making forts with the packing boxes that had been emptied so far. The family had been in the house for just over a day, and some good progress had already been made. There had been a lot that had been left behind. Neither Aleister nor Grace put too much value on material possessions, so most of what had come with them and the children to their new home in San Trobida had been essential furniture, and the mountains of photo albums and memorabilia from a life with the kids.

Grace sat Liv down on a wooden ottoman, and, after a little bit of rummaging, found the first aid kit.

“Okay, this might hurt just a little,” she said gently, and she carefully dabbed Liv’s graze.

Liv yelped, “Fuck!”, causing Reggie to gasp, looking to his mother for a reaction, and Erin and Immy to burst out giggling from inside their box-fort.

Grace raised an eyebrow, but her warm smile didn’t shift. “It stings that much?”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, flushing a little. “Sorry about the language.”

“I’m sure I didn’t hear a thing.”

There was the usual bustling around as Aleister got the girls into their shoes; Immy and Erin had decided that swapping one shoe with one another was the peak of humour, but eventually, their father managed to get them each into a left and a right-- even if they didn’t match. Six-and-a-half-year-old sisters, Reggie had come to realise, made just about everything more of a headache than necessary.

Eventually, though, they were on their way. His mom and dad, walking beside the twins as they pootled along on their bicycles, had the address, but Reggie rode ahead with Liv, taking her lead as she zig-zagged through the streets of Valle Brava. Having only set foot on San Trobidan soil as a new resident some twenty-four hours ago, everything aspect of his environment set his senses alight. This wasn’t like being back in America. Perhaps it was the tropical climate, but he was reminded much more of La Huerta-- of home. Liv certainly seemed right at home here. She and her mothers had settled a few weeks before, and Liv had been coming here pretty much all her life. There were just a few blocks between their respective houses, and the wide cycle paths along the bitumen roads made for an easy journey. This, Reggie had been told, was a newly developed area; much had been re-built since the war he knew his Tia Estela had been involved in. The cycle paths ended as they came nearer to Liv’s place, a little way out of the main township. The foliage on either side of the road became thicker, and there was less street noise, more birdsong.

“Beat you!” Liv announced as she planted her feet into the ground, forcing her bicycle to a stop.

Reggie grumbled, pulling up beside his cousin in front of a humble bungalow-style house with outer walls a vibrant azure blue against yellow accents. The sound of a dog barking-- unmistakably Liv’s Robin, was further confirmation they’d arrived. “You didn’t beat me, Livia. I was following you. I didn’t even know where we were going.”

“Jeez, dude. No one likes a sore loser….”

“I am not a--!”

The door swung open.

“Reggie!” Taylor wasted no time in sweeping her nephew into a hug. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe you still have the energy for cycling over here-- didn’t you move house, like, yesterday?”

Reggie laughed. “Hi, Auntie Taylor!” There was something about seeing a familiar face in this new environment that made the pieces seem to click into place. Family made it home. “I’m a little bit tired but mostly just excited. I did sleep in today, so I guess I won’t crash until later.” His sisters on the other hand… there was no way they’d last the evening without overtiredness rearing its ugly head.

“I’m guessing your mom and dad are on their way with the girls?”

“Yeah,” said Liv, “but they’re pretty slow. I don’t have to wait to give Reggie the grand tour, do I?”

“Knock yourself out, kid. Hang on, Liv? Walk your bike through the house, please.”

“I was gonna!”

Reggie could only smirk. Like hell you were….

“Aaaand,” Liv finished off with a flourish, “this is my room!” She opened the door to a good-sized bedroom. It seemed to Reggie that what floor-space wasn’t taken up by the bed was piled up with boxes.

“I mean, I can’t say the mess wasn’t a clue.”

Liv gave her cousin a look as she flopped into her bed. “Hey-- moving house is hard. You’ll see soon enough. You get started all excited, but once you start living your life, you kinda get… stuck. Mama Taylor says we’re going to just blitz it all next weekend, and throw ourselves a pizza party as a reward.”

Reggie got up onto the bed and crossed his legs. “Do you like it here?”

“I love it here! I always liked coming here when I was little, so I guess it doesn’t feel like something completely different. I reckon my tio abuelo is over the moon that we’re here for good; it’s like I’ve got a grandparent now.” Liv’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced away.

Understanding, Reggie nodded. Together, they’d grown up in a family that didn’t take the traditional shape. There were some things that simply couldn’t be explained to other friends; like why Reggie’s grandma could help him with his homework, but could never come in for grandparents’ day, and why Liv had a whole side of the family with no grandparents at all-- not even dead ones.

“And,” Liv continued, “people don’t really look at my Mama Estela funny. I noticed that years ago. I guess ‘cause of the war, people don’t look twice at someone who’s maybe a little bit banged-up. I got so sick of it back in America. Every time we met someone new, they’d put on that ‘God, what happened?’ face. Maybe Mom doesn’t want to explain the whole ‘revolutionary in a civil war’ thing to every random person who can’t mind their own business. Some people have scars-- big freaking deal. It’s better here.”

“Yeah, that would be a nice change. The amount of times I’ve seen you and Auntie Taylor look at a nosy idiot like you want to deck ‘em--”

Liv burst out laughing. “True, that.”

The sound of excited barking rang out from the backyard. It seemed pretty likely to Reggie that his parents and sisters had just arrived. When he and Liv arrived in the backyard, Erin had already joined Estela at the barbecue, desperate to be involved, while Immy was passionately talking to Nicolas about goodness-knows-what. Reggie made a mental note to rescue him in a few minutes; that kid could be intense, and the poor old guy had come out here for a relaxing lunch with his niece.

Nicely, but firmly, Reggie nudged the wriggling, writhing form of Robin the dog to the side so he could join his mother and Auntie Taylor at the large alfresco table under the porch. And Robin returned to his favoured position at the feet of the barbecue-- Erin was just a kid, surely, she’d drop something….

“Do you need a hand with the salads?” Reggie asked as he greeted his mother with a hug. He’d been seeking a lot of those. With so much changing, familial comfort meant a lot, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Perhaps more than anything, though, he was grateful to have Liv by his side. It was the way it had always been; from their toddler days on La Huerta, through elementary school, to their adventures in home-schooling. Some things might change-- some things might change immeasurably-- but he always had his cousin.

___________________________

La Huerta, 2028

Liv yelled out as she splashed down into the shallow surf. “Reggie!”

“I got her, Xiraana!” Reggie cried, and soon he was joined by a young Vaanti girl, who helped restrain their victim.

“No, no!” Liv squealed as she struggled. Vaanti kids, she’d long ago realised, were strong. “You’ll never take me alive!”

“Five-- four--- three….” Xiraana counted down, not letting Liv out of her grasp.

“Two-- one!” Reggie finished triumphantly, and he let his cousin fall unceremoniously back into the water. “The klaawyi ate all the meat off your bones. You’re one of us now!”

Liv pouted, but admitted defeat. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen; she was pretty good on Team Klaawyi anyway. Or, she would have been… had she not seen the figure of her favourite uncle descending onto the beach from the great tree of Elyys’tel.

“Tio Diegoooooo! Hiiiii!” Liv ran across the sand, almost tripping in her desperation to reach him.

“Hey, Livia!” Reggie cried out, indignant at being suddenly abandoned. “You’re meant to help us catch them!”

But Diego had crouched down to wrap Liv in a hug, and Reggie might as well be talking to a pile of rocks for all that was being absorbed.

“Tio, they got me! Reggie and Xiraana got me, and now I’m a klaawyi!”

“You?” Diego laughed. “You’re no klaawyi-- I’ve never seen a klaawyi that was ticklish!”

“Wha--?” Oh no. Once again, Liv was shrieking with mirth, this time dodging the tickling hands of her tio.

Still standing in the shallows, Reggie stomped his foot, which achieved little but splashing himself in the face. The game went on without them; games of Klaawyi Chase didn’t stop for anyone. The usual fun on the beaches outside Elyys’tel would go on like this every day… whether Reggie and Liv were there to join in or not. And Reggie didn’t want to miss out now.

“Come on, Livia!”

She just shook her head, not letting her adoring gaze up at Diego slip for so much as a heartbeat. “Nah,” she said. “I’m done.”

Torn, knowing that whichever direction he ran in, he’d lose out on precious time with friends, Reggie admitted defeat and rushed back to Liv’s side on the shore. He looked back over his shoulder and waved goodbye-- for what he’d been told would likely be a long, long time. Engrossed in their game, his friends gave just the most fleeting of farewells before continuing to race through the small waves that lapped the beach.

Liv, in contrast, had eyes only for her tio. She clasped his hand tightly; if she held on tight enough, perhaps he’d have no choice but to come with her to wherever her mothers were taking her in the big aeroplane.

Where exactly she was going, Liv didn’t quite understand. It was away from La Huerta, but they weren’t going back to live with Tio Nicolas, they were going… someplace else. Someplace with no Tio Diego and Varyyn, where all the other kids would be boring shades of pink and brown rather than blue and green, and where no one knew about the yeti-bear, or the magic crystal alien that made her mom, or about The Story of the Year the World Stopped.

“I want you to come, Tio Diego…,” Liv softly beseeched.

Diego’s eyes grew misty, her earnest words having tipped him over the edge after what had been a long period of emotional build-up. Goodbyes were never easy, and Liv’s family was his family. He squeezed her little hand gently.

“I’ll visit you, Livi-- I promise. Cross my heart. And your mommies will bring you over to visit us here too; you are going to learn so many new games at school that you can teach Xiraana and the other kids.”

“But I’ll miss you…”

Having rejoined Liv, Reggie peered up at Diego’s teary face with concern. “Diego, you’re making your glasses all foggy.”

“Ha. I know, I know!” Diego wiped his eyes. “You might have a point there, Reggie; I want to spend this last night with you guys actually being able to see you!”

Liv giggled and wrapped her arms around her uncle’s legs, only to be peeled off and hoisted into the air. “We can still have fun until bedtime, can’t we? Will you tell us a story?”

On the ground, Reggie danced around, his arms waving. Diego-time was the best story-time.

In the arms of her tio, her playmate since she was a baby bouncing on his knee, Liv was a mess of emotions; of fear and excitement, of merriment that competed with the looming sorrow. It was more than her little self had a clue what to do with. She was only five.

Sensing his cousin’s turmoil, Reggie reached up a hand and took hold of Liv’s, hanging down by Diego’s side. “Don’t worry, Livia! If you worry, you won’t enjoy story-time.”

Liv stuck out her bottom lip. That little nerd-face could be pretty smart sometimes. Tomorrow night, there would be no goodnight story from Tio Diego, but tomorrow night was not now-- now, everything was as it should be. Her wavering grin returned, and to her delight, it brought matching smiles to the faces of her companions.

“Do you think Varyyn, and my mommies, and Auntie Grace and Uncle Alli, and Auntie Grace’s tummy babies want to listen to the story too?”

“Yeah,” Diego said, letting Liv back down to the ground, where she immediately found another hug in Reggie’s arms, “I think everyone would really like that.”

_____________________________

San Trobida, August 2035

“I don’t get it,” Liv said thoughtfully, as the car rolled right on past the turn for her Auntie Grace and Uncle Al’s place. “It’s right on the way; wouldn’t it have been easier for us to pick up Reggie?”

“Hon,” Taylor replied, “I think Reggie wanted his mom and dad to take him to orientation. They’ll probably be better at helping with his jitters than we would be.”

“I guess.” Liv looked out the window, watching the surrounding vegetation thicken once more as the car followed the road up out of the valley. “Orientation Day shouldn’t be too bad, right? Just, like, meeting our teachers, learning where stuff is, that kinda thing?” And you’ll have to try and make friends. That would be a laugh.

By the time they pulled up at the Las Selvas Secondary School, however, Liv fully understood her cousin’s nerves, and realised that was probably why she’d been so disappointed that he didn’t share a car with her. Through every big change in their young lives, his presence had been a reassuring constant.

“Uggghh,” she groaned. “Can I change my mind? Home-schooling was all right; more of that, please.”

Estela leaned from the front seat and gave Liv’s knee a squeeze. “You know, I don’t think he’d ever say it, but I’m pretty sure Reggie would be really scared if he had to walk into this without you. Besides, you were so excited about starting here; you owe it to yourself to at least giving it a shot.”

Again, Liv groaned, this time even louder. “It’s so annoying when you’re right.”

“Story of my life,” Taylor laughed, while Estela smirked.

When they pulled up at the school, Reggie was already waiting, standing beside the car-park while his parents fussed over him.

“You have your phone?” Grace quizzed, checking for the fourth time since they’d set off.

“I told you, yes!” Reggie replied, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket to wave around for good measure. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready to be picked up, I promise.”

“In that case, you just have a wonderful time, darling.” She wrapped him in a hug-- already Reggie was easily as tall as her. “Go well, and have fun.”

Liv rushed over, all smiles. Her own nerves were a whole lot less bothersome when she had the distraction of friendly faces.

There were a few more rounds of hugs exchanged-- and then, suddenly, Liv and Reggie were on their own.

“You wanna head over? Looks like people are already crowding around-- it’s probably gonna start soon.”

Reggie’s expression brightened, as if he’d been just waiting for a little push for his confidence to surge back forth. “Well, it will hardly be an auspicious start here if we miss the principal’s address. Get a move on, Livia!”

The morning passed relatively quickly. Liv placed herself next to Reggie at all times-- they’d been put in the same Grade Seven home room as requested, making him one of the eldest in the class, and her one of the youngest. The whole set-up wasn’t entirely different to the school they were accustomed to, other than the bilingual approach. They were given a small pile of boring paperwork, and outlines of what to expect in their new classes; as English was their first language, they’d be taking ‘Spanish as a Second Language’, and Liv was also excited about ‘Nature Studies’, a subject she’d never been offered in America.

As far as Liv was concerned, the most traumatic part of the session was being expected to stand up in front of a room of strangers and give a short spiel about themselves. The perfect opportunity to officially balls-up any chance they might have of making new friends, or at least that was how she saw it. She mumbled down into her chest; something about enjoying hiking and gymnastics, something about liking Batman, and animals, and then she hurriedly sat right back down with flaming cheeks. Reggie, she observed, handled the brief foray into public speaking with rather more poise. Even though he was shy-- perhaps even more than she was-- he seemed able to go into ‘school presentation’ mode, and breeze through. When he sat back down, though, his hands were shaking-- but that was for the eyes of his trusted friend only.

When the lunch break came along, Liv was ravenous; a new and challenging social situation could do that to a person. While Reggie sloped off to the bathrooms, she tested out the school canteen, emerging a little while later with a hot empanada. It wasn’t quite as good as her Mama Estela’s, but it was definitely a step up from what was on offer at her old school. Maybe she could get used to this place….

Liv watched this new world go by all around her as she ate, cross-legged beneath the tree she’d told her cousin to meet her by. Kids moved in their little circles, talking loudly, laughing. Most of them coming into Grade Seven had come from the local primary school, and many knew each-other. Liv and Reggie would be starting out on the outside… and that was daunting. She could not be more grateful that she wasn’t taking this on alone.

Or… at least, she shouldn’t be. The lunchtime queue moved on, the gaggles of kids spread out, and still Reggie hadn’t returned.

Damn, constipated on your first day. Sucks to be you, Reggie.

Tentatively, Liv approached the boys’ bathroom and, having ascertained that no one was watching, slipped in. Her footsteps were unheard, drowned out by the loud, frantic breathing of young Reggie, slumped over the sink. Alarmed, Liv rushed over. Tears were spilling down his cheeks.

“Reggie… it’s okay,” she said gently. A little unsure, she reached out a hand to rub his back, and to her surprise, he didn’t flinch away. Slowly, he seemed to regain control of himself.

“Liv…,” Reggie panted. “You know you’re not meant to be in here; this is the guys’ room.”

“Hey! Like it’s my fault you didn’t take your anxiety attack into the unisex bathroom. That’s on you.” Hmph. Ungrateful, much?

Reggie scowled, and dragged his cousin out of the toilet block by her arm. He slumped down by the wall, and scooched over to encourage her to join him.

“You’re a pain in the arse.” He was still shaking.

“It’s been said, yeah.” Liv huddled a little closer. “You don’t need to worry, okay? You’re not going to have any trouble making friends. Did you see they’ve got a chess club, and a photography club as well? At least that’ll get you talking to people.”

“That’s,” Reggie said quietly, “not exactly what I’m worried about.” When Liv looked at him expectantly, he continued. “When I was in a room with all those kids, my head just went back to being at our old school… and what happened. I know this place is meant to be progressive and all that, but that doesn’t mean that everyone’s okay. What if I think I’ve made friends with someone, and they find out about Erin, and they make it a big thing, and then some arsehole finds out….”

“Man, you’re really spiraling,” Liv observed, not especially helpfully. She wasn’t exactly surprised by what was troubling her cousin; getting into a fight in defense of his young transgender sister had completely unseated Reggie from the comfortable life he’d had at the last school. It had changed everything.

“You would too, if she was your sister!”

“Probably. But I think you should at least give people a go. It sounds like they’re really strict on any kind of bullying against minorities. Swinging back hard in the opposite direction after that fascist dictatorship.”

“Those are some awfully big words for you to be throwing around there, Livia; watch you don’t hurt yourself….”

“Hey! I know my stuff!” Liv demanded. “Do you think my tio abuelo would have it any other way? But anyway, I’m right. All the people who didn’t fit in before have come to this part of the country. Probably a lot of the kids have parents who saw really horrible things in the war; they wouldn’t want to send them somewhere that was bad like before. My Mama ‘Stel gave the principal the grilling of her life, and I bet she hasn’t been the only one. People are gonna want to make sure their kids are being looked after.”

A smile quirked on Reggie’s face as he imagined his aunt on a school tour. “I bet Tia Estela left Principal Sanchez quivering under the desk.”

“Yeah… after what happened in the last school, there’s no way they’d let us go anywhere unless they were sure it was a place that treated people right.”

Reggie knew that much. But his parents, and even his fierce aunt, could not shield himself, his sisters and his cousin, from everything. He contemplated silently, grateful for the patient companionship.

“I guess,” he said at last, “if no one gave anyone else a chance to be anything but the worst, then we’d be pretty lonely.”

“Yup. We should at least give it a shot. And if it all goes in the crapper, I’ll sic my moms on the fools that mess with us. And the freaking yeti.”

Reggie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. That had always been Liv’s answer to everything. “Livia, I hate to break it to you, but if you go around threatening people with yetis, everyone’s gonna think you’ve got a screw loose. Except me; I know you’ve got a screw loose.”

“So damn rude,” Liv growled. “Anyway, you really should eat something. It probably won’t help you feeling crap and light-headed if you’ve got an empty stomach. They’ve got arepas!”

“...I could eat an arepa,” Reggie admitted. There was only so much a young boy of thirteen could control; he couldn’t wave a magic wand and guarantee that his little sister would never be hurt by cruel, ignorant words, but he could look after himself, so that he was the best him he could be-- and the best brother.

_____________________________

USA, 2028

“You did a great job, sweetheart,” Taylor said kindly as Reggie delicately placed his knife and fork atop his small plastic plate, signaling that he’d finished. Immediately afterwards, the little boy’s small hand had dropped to his side to get a reassuring touch of his teddy’s scruffy fur. “It was nice of Big Bear to join us for dinner. Does he like lasagna as much as you do?”

Reggie yawned widely as he nodded to his aunt. He hadn’t known it was possible for a kid to be so full of yawns, but living with newborn twins had shown him just how big a tired feeling could be. “Big Bear likes to watch from the floor.”

“That’s nice of him to let you have the whole plate for yourself. We’re gonna have plenty to bring over to your mommy and daddy for them to eat tomorrow.”

Lasagna had been Reggie’s choice. This whole sleepover was to be all about him; giving him a welcome break from the stresses of being a new big brother to two babies at once. He’d been on many, many sleepovers at Tia Estela and Auntie Taylor’s place before, but this time felt different. Reggie knew that at home, his parents were busy with their other children… and in his sensitive state, it took no time at all for him to miss them.

Twins, Reggie had come to realise, were very hard work. They cried a lot… and his mommy cried a lot, and his daddy cried a lot, and he cried a lot. All crying and no sleeping was not a whole lot of fun. Reggie wanted so badly to get away from the babies, but at the same time he longed to be with his parents. However much fun it was to take a break at his aunts’ place, the worry in him just wouldn’t go away.

Side-by-side, he and Liv changed into their pyjamas. Five-year-old Liv, true to form, nattered away to him the whole time. Babies, of course, were the subject of choice.

“My moms say we’re probably not gonna get another baby. Maybe ‘cos you have two I can borrow one if I get lonely. Do you have one that you like best?”

Reggie shrugged.

“Maybe next time your mom and dad will have three. You could have all these babies like a baby army, and if someone’s ever mean to you, you will have like a hundred poopy diapers you can throw at them. No one likes poop.”

“I don’t want lots more babies,” Reggie said softly. I want no more.

“If you don’t like babies, you can come and live with us forever!” Liv suggested brightly, oblivious the the wobble of her cousin’s bottom lip.

When Estela popped her head around the corner to check on the kids, Reggie was in tears and Liv looked totally bewildered.

“Mommy, Reggie’s crying…,” she pointed out, rather unnecessarily, for her mother had already scooped the little boy into a cuddle.

“It’s okay, mijo,” Estela soothed as she gently rocked her nephew in her arms. “It’s okay to cry. This has been really hard. You know what? You have been such a good boy for Mommy and Daddy.”

Liv, not quite sure what to do, but nothing if not well-meaning, draped herself over Reggie and patted him on the back. “There, there. It’s okay.”

Estela took Reggie into the lounge room for some cheer-up time, and Liv took Big Bear. Taylor quickly joined them, and pulled Reggie into her lap for a cuddle.

“Are you feeling a bit sad, sweetpea?”

Reggie nodded. “Uh-huh. I liked it better how things were before. Everything’s different.”

Taylor gently rubbed the little boy’s arms. “Change can be really tough. It’s like you’ve got to figure out how life works all over again!”

“Yeah, it’s not nice.”

“So, it’s okay to have a good cry. We will give you as many hugs and cuddles as you need.”

“Reggie,” Liv piped up, “do you wanna play a game? That could make you feel happy?”

Reggie sniffed and nodded again. Pleased-- she had this cheering-up business down-- Liv plonked herself in Estela’s lap and leaned forward to her cousin.

“Do you wanna play… ‘Klaawyi Chase’?”

Estela intervened quickly. “Maybe something with a little less running around. It’s nearly bedtime, Livi.”

“Okay. Ummmm…. ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’?”

“Livita.”

Well, you’re no fun. Liv gave a soft huff and pondered. By her best guess, ‘Hide and Seek’ would be a ‘no’ too… especially as last time she’d hid, no one managed to find her for a full hour.

“How about,” Taylor suggested, “we have a game of ‘Fortunately-Unfortunately’?”

“I wanna play that one!” Reggie said enthusiastically. “Can I start? Fortunately, we all had ice cream for dessert.”

Liv bounced in her mother’s lap. “Unfortunately, the ice cream was smelly-feet flavour!”

“Livi!” Taylor exclaimed, rolling her eyes. Why was everything smelly-feet with that kid? “Okay, then-- fortunately, Robin Dog likes smelly-feet, so he ate all the ice cream for us.”

“Oh!” Liv cried. “I’ve got a really good one!” Hehe, Robin with smelly-feet farts….

“Unfortunately,” said Estela. “It was Mama Estela’s turn, and Miss Livita just had to wait.”

Liv turned and poked her tongue out at her mom, making Reggie giggle. He snuggled in against his Auntie Taylor’s chest, his mind far away from worries about his new role as big brother to a pair of very needy twins.

“Fortunately,” he said, smiling, “Furball was visiting, and he made us some new ice cream with no yucky flavours in it.”

“Unfortunately….”

_________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

It was the last weekend before school started, and a lazy warm day at the Montoya house. Estela was up a tree, hammering boards into what would soon be a playhouse for the kids. She’d already finished up a two-storey-high climbing wall on the other side of the yard, which, at Liv’s request, would eventually be connected to the new tree-house by a zipline. Then, there’d be a slide, and monkey bars, and a tyre swing, and a fire pole. Basically, Estela had made it her mission to put together the best backyard playground on the Costa Libertad. Taylor, meanwhile, had been busying herself with a vegetable garden, with the help of a fascinated Erin and her parents, who turned out to be quite clever when it came to soil chemistry.

Liv had been up and down her new climbing wall like a yo-yo, leaving her dog, Robin, running rings around the base and all but tripping Reggie up as he tentatively took his first steps towards ascending.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m trying! Your dog’s getting in the way.”

Eventually, Reggie managed to clamber his way up, with a little help from Liv who hauled him over the top.

“See; piece of cake.”

Reggie couldn’t quite agree, and now that he was up twenty feet, he was already dreading his descent back to solid ground. Keen to distract himself from the dizzying height, he passed Liv the rope that he’d carried slung across his shoulders.

“What do you want me to do with it?” she demanded. “You’re meant to drop one end back down….”

“I’m not going near the edge!”

“Fine. Immy! You down there still?”

On the ground, and trying to wrestle a squeaky toy giraffe from Robin’s mouth, Immy craned her neck up.

“Yeah-- but you’re lucky I am, Reggie was so slow.”

“Careful. I was careful. You should bloody well try it sometime.”

Immy rolled her eyes dramatically, but nonetheless took the rope end that Liv had lowered to her, and ran it over to Estela so the distance could be measured.

“There we go,” Liv said, after having marked the rope at the edge of the platform. “Done. Reggie, if you’re just going to look down, you might as well be on the ground. Come on-- check out the view!”

Begrudgingly, Reggie sat up properly and looked around.

“Woah.” Maybe he could see the appeal of being up so high, even if he was immensely grateful for the safety rails around the platform. “You really can see everything up here.”

“Isn’t it cool?” Liv beamed as she pointed her cousin towards the paddock behind the yard. “You wanted to see our horse? Right in there at the side of the sheltery-shed thing….”

“Oh, wow! Okay, fine, I believe you now. I guess she was just hiding earlier.”

“That’s Miel. She’s like, older than dirt; Mama Estela used to ride her when she was a teenager.”

“And she’s still alive?”

“Just about. I think she’s uh… nearly thirty? Pretty ancient. Mom found out she was all on her own after her friend died, and she bought her so she could retire here with us. She’s kind of a bitey asshole. Uh, the horse-- not Mom.” Liv quickly amended, glancing to the in-progress tree-house. “So, we’re keeping her, and if she wants to make friends with the new horses we’re getting, she can, otherwise at least she can, like, neigh rude horse words at them from over the fence.”

Reggie snorted. Weirdo.

“I’m super excited. I know Mama ‘Stel was kind of nervous about us moving over here because of how things were when she was a kid-- but it actually… feels nice. I love our new house. I love cranky Miel. I love that we’re gonna get chickens, and maybe a new friend for Robin. Even the school seems pretty good.”

Swallowing his fear, Reggie joined Liv at the railing, dangling his legs over the side of the platform.

“Yeah, I think I like it here, too. Mom and Dad seem really happy; Dad says he can make more of a good difference in the world here than in America. So, I guess that’s got to be good. Did I tell you we’re going to put a pool in?”

“You might have mentioned it. When you’ve been whining about the heat, for the hundredth time.”

“It’s so humid!”

Liv giggled. It was like being back in the tropics of La Huerta, and to her, that felt right. Granted, it might have been nicer if they could just pop on over into a neighbouring alpine region that was inexplicably right next to the hot, sticky jungle, but she really loved it.

“Well,” Reggie said, “it’s going to be great. And it should be done by the time Quinn and Michelle come to visit.”

“Do we even know whose house they’re staying at yet?”

“It should be my place.” Reggie puffed out his chest, as if to emphasise the rightness of his point. “You’re definitely getting Jake and Sean and Mikey. You can’t take all the visitors. And besides… we’ll have a pool.”

That was hard to argue with. “It’s up to the adults anyway,” Liv conceded. In the end, it didn’t matter; she was going to make the most of having her La Huerta family around even if it meant camping out in Reggie’s back yard. “But, I will be a much better San Trobida tour guide than you. I’m still showing you around.”

Reggie hmphed, and Liv laughed.

“Come on, Reggie,” she said, dropping gracefully down the side of the wall and taking up hand-holds. “I’m getting hungry.”

It was at that point that Reggie made the sobering discovery that going down, was rather more intimidating than going up a sheer vertical surface.

“Um, Liv…,” he said quietly. “I, uh, don’t think I can do that.”

“Oh!” Liv responded. “Sorry, I forgot you’re new to this. Maybe you should’ve started smaller. But don’t worry, I’ll get you down….”

“Okay…,” he murmured, clearly not remotely convinced.

“Mom!” Liv hollered, all but making her poor cousin topple over the edge in surprise. “Reggie’s stuck!”

Reggie felt heat rise in his cheeks as his sisters, hanging out on the grass below the wall at the worst possible time, burst out laughing. Like they could even get up this high to begin with.

Up in the tree-house, Estela looked up and wiped off the paint from her hands. Rescuing kids from scrapes had pretty much become her specialty at this point; twelve years with Liv had seen to that. “I’m coming,” she called back.

“I’m not exactly stuck,” Reggie muttered defensively, as his Tia Estela easily scaled the climbing wall to join him and Liv, who’d already rejoined him to offer moral support. “If I really wanted to, I could climb down; I just feel I should practice climbing up a few more times before I try that.”

“You’ll get there,” Estela said kindly. As far as she was concerned, the fact that her nephew had a realistic view of his own capabilities was only a good thing. “I’ll have that zipline going in no time anyway, so you’ll have no hurry to work it out.”

With his aunt’s back offered to him, Reggie took the cue and wrapped his long arms around her neck, and his legs around her middle. Getting rescued by one of the team of protective grown-ups? Basically, the story of both his and Liv’s lives.

“Hang on, Regito,” Estela laughed.

____________________________

La Huerta, 2034

The frigid wind howled against the cabin door, and it took all of Liv and Reggie’s combined might to wrestle it closed. Both kids were panting heavily-- and shaking like leaves-- as they nervously stepped away.

“Thank god this little hut was here, really,” Liv heaved. “I dunno about you, but I’d rather be stranded in a snowstorm with walls around me.”

Reggie said nothing, and just shivered, wrapping his arms around his own torso. He’d wrapped up-- as if his parents would let him go wandering into the colder pockets of the island without a heap of layers-- but the snow had wet his gloves through, and a chill was now spreading through his body.

“Hey,” Liv said, “we should… we should get a fire going. You look like you’re halfway turned into a popsicle right now.”

As his cousin busied herself at the fireplace-- thank goodness there was some firewood left-- Reggie fiddled with his emergency phone. His heart sank. No signal. His mom and dad were going to be so worried when he and Liv never came home….

“Uh, Liv… I think the storm’s screwed up the reception here. It won’t let me phone Mom and Dad.”

Liv looked up, and for the first time, she looked truly fearful, her usual intrepid spirit extinguished in a flash. “They’re really gonna panic,” she said softly. She shuddered. If their parents came out looking for them, it meant walking out into a blizzard, and all the danger that came with it. If she could just tell her mothers that she was safe, that she and Reggie had shelter… they could wait out the storm. Anything could happen, anything….

“Are you okay, Livia?” Reggie asked, and he handed her a heavy blanket as he sat down cross-legged in front of her feebly burning fire. “You look kind of spaced-out.”

“Hng?”

“They’ll find us; it’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want them to come and find us,” Liv snapped. “I want them to stay where it’s safe. They could get hurt or, or worse because we were stupid enough not to turn around when the weather changed.” She placed a stick too roughly, and her firewood tower collapsed, extinguishing the flame. “For fuck’s sake!”

Reggie, wisely, stayed quiet, letting his cousin fix up the mess and get a new fire started without interference. He watched her with concern as her eyes welled. “Livia…?”

She huddled close to him, but for a long while, didn’t speak.

“Reggie,” she murmured at last, “something really horrible happened a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to talk about it with you, ‘cause… ‘cause I didn’t even want to think about it…. It just made me feel too bad. But, uh.... I was… I was playing in the sea with Mama Estela. Just like we always do. We were just goofing off. Then, um, I got all tangled up in those freaking weeds. They grabbed me and held me under.”

“That must have been so scary….”

“Of course, Mom got me out of there. B-but there was a sea-snake in there. It bit her. It happened so fast… I hardly even saw what happened, but she suddenly just... could hardly even get out of the water. I somehow managed to haul her up out the water, but she was all limp and… and I gave her the anti-venom, and she just started having some kind of fit.. Like her body was jerking around, and her mouth was all frothy.” She gasped through a sob. “Then she… she stopped breathing, completely.” Liv shuddered as the memory filled her mind, vivid as if it were yesterday. She could feel Reggie’s wide, horrified eyes upon her. “I screamed. I screamed for help. Mama Taylor was up the beach, she couldn’t hear me. S-so I did CPR. My hands were shaking so-- so bad. And all I could think was ‘I’m gonna screw this up. I’m gonna screw this up and my mom’s gonna die’.” Her voice cracked and she sputtered through hot tears that she wiped away with her arm. Before she knew it, Reggie had his arms around her and was holding her tight. “I don’t know how long it was,” she said. “It felt like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes. Then she started breathing and I just… I cried, and cried, and cried.”

Reggie gently rubbed Liv’s back, and it soothed her.

“I, uh, I guess I always thought Mama Estela was invincible. To me, she always was. There was nothing I couldn't do either, because she would always be there to protect me. It was so close, Reggie… it looked like she was gone.”

“I… didn’t know it was as bad as that. My dad told me she’d been bitten but…,” Reggie mumbled. “You must have been so scared. Have you… have you talked to your moms about it much?”

Liv sniffed, and wiped her face again. “Yeah. You know what my Mama Taylor is like; we’ve talked it through lots, I’ve told them how I’m feeling. But I haven’t… like… had a big cry since it happened.” Until now. Now, she just couldn’t seem to stop the tears from coming. Reggie didn’t seem to mind; he just sat with her, and rubbed her back, and told her it was okay.

After what seemed like an age, her tears slowed.

“It is going to be okay, you know?” Reggie said gently. “Obviously, they’re going to come out looking for us, but they’re smart. They’ll be prepared; just like your Mama Estela was with the anti-venom.”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, her voice small. You could be as prepared as you wanted, but sometimes the world managed to stay one step ahead. The storm outside was wild and furious, battering on the roof and walls… and it was frightening. Liv could only snuggle under her cousin’s arm, and trust that whatever search and rescue party was out there would come through.

The two kids huddled together beneath their blanket, speaking little, but making their mutual support known without words. Just the squeeze of a hand through the most blood-curdling howls of the wind, and the simple offer of presence.

Somehow, the creak of the door shoved open cut through the dull roar.

“Oh, thank goodness!”

“Dad!” Reggie leapt forward and flung his arms around his father, his face lighting up further when Grace followed in behind. “Mom!”

Grace put her shaking hands to her son’s face, gently sweeping hair from his eyes. “Darling, are you all right?” Then she pulled Liv into a fierce hug, and in a moment Aleister had his arms around all three of them. “We were so worried!”

Liv whimpered against Grace’s shoulder. “Are my moms out in the storm?” She knew the answer already.

“Yes, honey. They’re out searching for you. Don’t you stress, okay? We’ve got a flare to set off so they’ll know we found you here-- and Varyyn and Diego too.”

“Woah,” Liv murmured, “you got a whole search party out.”

There was a buzzing, and the flickering of blue light, then Iris materialised.

Reggie beamed. “Hey, Grandma! So, a ‘whole search party’ is pretty much correct.”

“I will say, being able to scan for nearby lifeforms is quite handy in situations like these.”

So, find my moms and Tio Diego. Liv hugged tighter to her Auntie Grace, with no words pleading for help.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said gently, stroking Liv’s face, while Aleister saw to setting off the flare. “It’s going to be just fine. We’re not far from Elyys’tel; we all fanned out from there, so no one is going to be too deep into the mountains.”

That… actually made sense. It was enough, just enough to keep Liv a step above panic-mode. She headed back to the fireplace, but as her backside hit the floor, a guttural roar rocked the cabin, and she leapt back to her feet.

“What the--?”

“You two stay back!” Aleister ordered, his voice shaking. Why, oh why, did the children want to go gallivanting out in the frozen wilderness when there was a perfectly serviceable tropical paradise right outside their front door? He was going to be old before his time at this rate….

Grace, though, was already hauling open the door, to reveal the hulking figure of the Mountain Guardian.

A growl rumbling in her throat, Arktos loomed in the doorway, looking down at Grace with a questioning gaze.

“Hello…?” she said cautiously. The gigantic bear-like creature was generally reasonably friendly…. “Did we… did we disturb you with the flare?”

Arktos grumbled, her furry ears flicking with curiosity.

“Our friends are out there in the storm,” Grace continued, certain that the yeti would understand; her past experiences had only supported the fact that this creature was incredibly intelligent-- and benevolent. “The flare was to bring them to this cabin.”

With a soft huff, Arktos shuffled backwards, and all of a sudden, it seemed as though she was surrounded by a force-field… a bubble that the wind and blinding snow couldn’t penetrate.

Understanding, Grace turned to Iris. “I think we’re going hiking again-- with a little extra help this time. Al, you’ll stay and watch the kids?”

“I--I--” Aleister stuttered. “Well, of course. Stay close to the… the bear thing.” Scrambling a little, he pulled off his outer layer and offered it to her. “I won’t have you catching hypothermia.”

And Grace stepped into the snow, Iris hovering behind her, and found shelter in the yeti’s protective shield. She looked up at the beast, now rearing up onto colossal hind legs to scout for signs of nearby human activity. “Thank you, Arktos. I guess… I guess, you choose the direction, and we’ll start the search.”

The unusual trio headed out into the storm, and within moments, they were invisible for the wind thick with snow. Aleister, a look of dumbfoundment upon his face, closed the door, and again, the cabin was quiet.

“Damn. Auntie Grace is a fricking badass,” Liv breathed, face alight in awe.

Aleister, recovering from his wife’s shock exit quickly-- he’d seen her steely courage in action enough times to just about take it in his stride, nodded. “Indeed.” He brushed the last flakes of snow from his coat, and looked around the room. “Well, I don’t suppose the wait will pass any faster with us standing around here. Reggie, did we leave any board-games here last time?”

“Uh, looks like we’ve got ‘Scrabble’?”

Well, Liv thought, I don’t have a hope in hell against these people. Should’ve left ‘Twister’ here….

Reggie sat himself down in front of the crackling fire and started unpacking the box. “Hey, Livia-- team up with me?”

He was clearly still a little worried about her. If there was an opportunity to thrash her at something, Mr Pedantic-Always-Right would take it without fail. Or so Liv had believed.

She plonked down cross-legged beside him. “Yeah? Yeah, all right.”

The two kids exchanged a high five, and Liv couldn’t help but grin. You are going down, Uncle Al.

___________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

As the car pulled up the neatly paved pathway to Aleister and Grace’s house, Liv excitedly rolled down the window.

“Reginaaaaald!!!” she hollered.

“How,” Aleister wondered aloud, “can such a small person-- and the offspring of Estela and Diego of all people-- sound so eerily like a bloody foghorn?”

A beaming Reggie followed his father out the front door. He exchanged hugs with both his parents-- and his two little sisters-- and then rushed to join his cousin on the back seat.

“Are you ready to go, mijo?” Estela checked in, suppressing a laugh as Taylor all but did a contortion act to give her nephew a hug from the front seat.

He had Liv, didn’t he? So, basically, he was ready for anything.

The short drive to the school saw the return of those pesky jitters, and Reggie knew from the way his cousin jiggled her leg the whole way there that he was definitely not alone in that. The school ground, filled only with kids their own age when they’d been there for orientation, was swarming with adolescents of all sizes-- and just about all of them were bigger than Reggie and Liv.

With an awkward hug and a kiss to her mothers in the front of the car, Liv bit the bullet and, bulging backpack in hand, stepped out into a brave new world. There was only one thing for it; Reggie would just have to take the plunge. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and followed after his cousin.

“Welp,” said Liv, “here goes nothing!”

Reggie gave a nervous laugh and playfully bashed Liv with his backpack, putting a reassuringly silly grin on her face.

We’ve got this.

_______________________

NOTES

Little Xiraana is @mauvecatfic's baby. Check out her stories; you won't regret it!

If you read 'A Ride to Remember', you might remember Miel. She's the very same horse.

Aaaaand, the incident Liv is recounting during the snowstorm is the one you can read from Estela's perspective in 'Teething Problems: Part Two'.

#endless summer #playchoices #liv montoya #reggie hall #graleister #estela x mc #estela montoya #grace hall #aleister rourke #diego soto

[razmahdaz-art]

I Did It! I Wrote The Geraskier Birthday Fic! Let the Fluff and Angst REIGN! Happy Holidays and I hope this makes up for a lot of void on my end. Enjoy these Idiots! 4k words so snuggle up and have fun!

Geralt was in trouble.

Every winter had been hard, no matter how routine he presumed going home would be. Terrible monsters that forced him off the Path and delayed him to the point of being blocked from Kaer Morhen, the castle itself crumbling far worse than previous winters because of far nastier storms, or those rare and often heartbreaking winters spent without one or both of his brothers because they simply couldn’t make it through the pass in time. There were most certainly harder winters that Geralt had survived through, but now, in this moment, he couldn’t describe a worse or more threatening feeling than what the bard had just told him.

It was partially Geralt’s fault, and standing in the moment, he’s never felt more stupid. Every spring when he finds his companion and asks how his winter was, Jaskier always said “I’m a year older but still ready to out walk Roach.” Geralt would give a smile or laugh. It just made sense to him, the phrase, Jaskier saying he was older. A year had ended and started, so Geralt never felt the need to question it.

He suddenly began to question how he could be such an Idiot.

This year, finally, to even his own surprise, Geralt invited Jaskier to Kaer with him, finally letting himself have the luxuries that Jaskier has always said he deserved. Thankfully, Jaskier agreed, and the hike and travel had been remarkably kind to them. As well as everyone who stayed with them, Lambert and Eskel throwing arms open for the bard to finally walk into after so many decades of mere stories and mentions and passed “He says hello”s. The keep was being improved upon, Jaskier bringing a new motivation to their work through the inspiring songs and funny tales he would share while they did mundane chores, and the storms came and went without much complaint, which impressed Geralt by how well Jaskier seemed to be adapting to such a harsh climate.

This past week, however, Jaskier seemed to have slumped in posture and attitude. Everyone became used to the morning lute practice and half worked songs that their new companion filled the cold halls with, but those ditties have pittered out with the passing days. And now even the afternoons and evenings were growing a familiar and unwelcome quiet.

Tonight, though, when Jaskier went to bed hours earlier than he normally did, Geralt finally decided it was time to check on him.

The Witcher opened the heavy door to his bard’s room, the fireplace glowing low while Jaskier sat in a chair facing the warmth, his body hunched over himself a bit, his hands rubbing together to keep warm. Jaskier had only had the space for a little over three weeks and it was a stark reflection of his personality. Borrowed books from the library scattered about and the bed barely made, but no matter how intense the mess, it felt homely and comfortable. It felt like He belonged in the stone cold keep just fine.

Geralt walked over and leaned against the chair, his hand pressing against Jaskier’s back to let him know he wasn’t alone anymore. The bard’s head picked itself up and turned to look at him, a gentle smile tugging at the once downtrodden face he had been wearing. Jaskier leaned back into the chair and Geralt moved his hand to his shoulder, as they both just watched the flame flicker.

“You’re upset,” Geralt stated low. He knew Jaskier was upset, that wasn’t even a question, but he didn’t know how to ask what was actually wrong. The Witcher found that as long as he started the conversation, Jaskier would lead him through it.

“Is it showing?” Jaskier asks half heartedly with a hollow laugh. “I’m sorry if i’ve been bringing everyone down with me.” Geralt winces at the words, even if he knows that they’re a joke. He brings himself forward, sitting just on the edge of the arm rest. Jaskier had never needed an invitation, so he let his head roll to the side and rest on Geralt’s arm. They sit in a long stretching, but warm silence, it still sitting harsh in Geralt’s stomach.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Geralt finally asks with no sense of shame. 

The bard sighs long and horse before placing his arm and hand on Geralt’s leg, patting it absentmindedly like the large man sharing a chair with him was nothing more than a simple house cat. “Nothings wrong just...Different,” Jaskier admits, blowing a stray piece of hair from his face. That, Geralt expected. Kaer Morhen was far different from Oxenfurt, and he had feared the bard would be lost in such a place, either physically lost while wandering the halls, or emotionally at the cold and dark keep being the only scenery for months. His hand came up and tucked away any stray hairs.

“It’s my first winter here and away from my friends and family. Not that you aren't my Family, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jaksier’s hand squeezed Geralt’s thigh, reassuring him. “I just usually spend my Birthday with family and childhood friends back in Lettenhove, or with my peers in Oxenfurt. And I know how you Witcher’s don’t age, so I’d say the concept is kinda Mute here.”

And there it was. The thing that slammed hard into the Witcher’s skull like a sword was splitting him. Jaskier’s Birthday was the thing that made him doubt every ounce of intelligence he held in his body. Geralt had gone on close to a decade of not ever once questioning it’s date or passing, but now, in this chair with a melancholic bard on his arm, he was whipping himself over and over for such inconsiderate behavior. He could feel his heart pick up a few beats as terror raced through his very nerves, worse than any monster could ever make him feel.

“Ahh,” He said simply, all words throwing themselves into the void that is apparently his head. That’s when Jaskier turned to look at him in the eyes with the gentlest of smiles, and Geralt nearly fell from his perch.

“You’ve never been with me for my birthday, have you?” Jaskier asked his eyebrow raising. He looked tired like Geralt had never seen, a disappointment scorning him but Jaskier dulled it down, and that made it sting something in his core. “Ahh well, nothing to do about it. Maybe some drinks and some Gwent at this week’s end and we can call it another year, hmm?”

Jaskier stood, pushing on Geralt’s leg so he could stand up and stretch his already-aging bones. The Witcher stood up and was tongue tied, barely working out the syllables for a ‘Goodnight’ before he found himself in the hallway outside of Jaskier’s door, his heart aching and the back of his eyelids stained with that horrible hopeless expression Jaskier gave him. Geralt needed to make this right, and he needed to make it good. All these years as friends, all these years of him wanting something more, and he didn’t even have the fucking decency to as much as Ask when Jaskier’s birthday was. The bard was right, Witcher’s never really celebrated their own birthdays, but he should have assumed that someone like Jas would make a large deal out of the personal day.

Fuck.

Geralt wasn’t sure the last time he sprinted so hard his chest hurt, but it was probably deserved. His legs carried him down the stairs and back to the dining hall where, thankfully, Lambert and Eskel were still sitting and drinking the early evening away. They looked at him like the man was running from a pact of starving wolves and stood from their table and rushed to the man’s side in an instant. Eskel’s hand landed on his shoulder to guide him back to their table because Geralt looked like his lungs were about to give out on him. Lambert looked passed the door and down the hall to see if he could spot exactly what had him so startled.

“Bloody hell, what happened to you?” Lambert blurted to him, still keeping watch. “Where’s Jas, is he safe?” 

“He’s fine,” Geralt growled out as he sat down, leftover whatever the hell he was drinking earlier pushed into his hand. Eskel knelt beside him just to make sure he didn’t choke. “Somewhat fine, rather. He’s...His…” Geralt tried hard to find the words without it incriminating him too much.

“He’s What? What’s Wrong with Jaskier?” Eskel tried to ring out of him.

His lungs finally settled and Geralt gathered everything in him to speak.

“His Birthday,” Geralt said in a hush, but no whisper could go unnoticed around here.

The heavy door closed on it’s own, the hand keeping it open letting gravity do the work as Lambert turned his head in a swift motion, pure dumbfounded-ness on his face. He walked over and Geralt could see that he was filled to the brim with ‘Are You Stupid?’ waiting to spill out and slap across the back of his head. He even looked to Eskel and found that, even as gentle and understanding the scarred Witcher could be, even he was confused out of his mind.

“His Birthday is...Wrong?” Eskel tried to figure out.

Geralt’s head fell in his hands and he felt the dark flush of shame fill his face. God, this was gonna be hard to explain. But if he wanted the other’s Witcher’s help in this, then he’d have to choose his words and actually speak them.

“It...Feels wrong to him, this year. He’s sad that…'' Geralt paused and looked at both his brothers behind his fingers. This was going to sting. “He’s sad I didn’t know his birthday, and that he wouldn’t get to celebrate with his family.”

SMACK

That did sting, a hard slap to the back of his skull almost knocked him to the table. Eskel yelled Lambert’s name in shock and there was bickering, but Geralt was somewhat lost as to what specifics were said because, fuck, Lambert had an arm on him. Soon enough he’s met with Eskel’s scarred face who just looked equally confused as before.

“So you...forgot?” He asked.

“I just...Never asked.” Geralt explained.

Lambert was about to smack him again but Eskel stopped him before he could make proper contact. They shared a moment of silent speech, a ‘I know but Don’t’ argument had in complete silence.

“But,” Geralt cut into this voiceless fight. “But I want to give him...Give him something. Something he’ll like. I feel Awful for not asking all these years and I just...I just want to make him happy,” his voice petered out at the end, like it was a confession.

Lambert let out a long sigh. “So, what, a Party? Brew up something strong that he’d like, maybe a book from the library?” He asks, trying to give somewhat useful suggestions.

Geralt just shakes his head. “That’s what he’s expecting. I want it to be good, I want it to be personal.”

“I can make dinner with Vesimir, something close to what he likes,” Eskel offers. But no, no, these were great but they weren’t perfect. They didn’t make up for a decade of seeming disinterest. If Geralt was going to make this right, he needed to make it perfect. He needed to Make It.

It hit him, and not like Lambert had. This was Harder and more precise.

“The Forge,” Geralt says. “I’ll make him a blade, maybe two.. Something Silver, something he’d like…” Geralt thinks deeply for a moment, contemplating ideas of make and what would suit him just right for his weight and balance. 

“A Sword?” Lambert inquired, giving it some hard thought.

“Like ours,” Geralt informed. “He’s not a Witcher, But he’s…” Geralt paused a long second. “I want him to be something close.”

Silence overtook the room again, but this time, it wasn’t judgemental or harsh. It was warm and full of space for ideas and improvement and excitement. This was beyond thoughtful, in all Witchers eyes, a handmade set of weapons being the one thing that ties them all together, every wolve back to the same pact. Each sword different, but concept the same: a set to defend themselves like all of them were there, to have to remind them that they're not alone on the Path.

They talked that night, endlessly about what would fit right and what would work well for the bard. ‘This has to be great’, Geralt thought. ‘He deserves perfection.’

__________________________________________________________________________

Jaskier swears, with everything in his bones, that there used to be other people in this castle besides just him.

Ever since the other night with Geralt, Jaskier hadn’t seen much of him besides his morning hellos and his evening farewells, the two not having a solid conversation other than what they talk about at Dinner, which even then wasn’t much of anything. Geralt was never a good liar, Jaskier became aware of that fact very early on in their companionship. So when      he asked ‘What were you doing’ and Geralt says ‘Working’, Jasker can’t help but know that he was hiding something. It didn’t help that every morning when the bard actually got his eyes on the other, he looked ragged, and every night he seemed worn worse. And it wasn’t like he could ask Lambert and Eskel anything, because of course he couldn’t.

He saw the pair more during the day than he had Geralt, but whenever he did, they seemed in a rush, wanting to be somewhere completely opposite of where Jaskier seemed to be in that moment. Prying never worked. Lambert waved him off, told him it’s Witcher’s work and not to be disturbing them, and Eskel, the one person Jaskier counted on giving him at least a clue, just excused himself and said some random task needed tending to before fumbling his way out of the conversation.

The bard was going mad, feeling like he’s completely lost control of whatever sanity he’s had. No matter how much he picks at his lute, scribbles down verses, or even bite at his nails until it hurts, Jaskier couldn’t seem to understand what’s been going on around the keep. He thinks back to what he said, to what he did the last time things were normal. ‘Did I say something wrong? What if I did make everyone sad along with my moping? Gods, was it the leg touching???’ He racked his brain over and over again, searching for whatever insult he posed to his hosts so he could maybe make up for it. 

Though, from the way they seemed to be running away from him like the plague, he doubted he could return next winter.

“You look like you’ve been bit by a chimera,” Vesimir says as he walked into the Library Jaskier had cooped himself in for the afternoon, trying desperately to feel normal again. He can’t say he’s actually been reading anything, just staring at the page in front of him for over an hour. “What’s wrong boy, lost your song?”

Jaskier smiled at that, he did. Vesimir he at least did see, but being the man in charge, he didn’t see him any less than he had already. “Just...I don’t know, I can’t think right, I’m finding. Have you noticed that things are...Off?” He held out hope that the Oldest of this pack might be able to give him some insight.

“More than usual? Maybe, but I think it’s you’re doing,” Vesimir states as he organizes the collection of tomes. And that’s exactly not what Jaskier needed to hear. So it was his fault, of course it was, he had done something and fuck if he knows what it was and it just hurts. He can’t take it, couldn’t let this sit in his stomach one more second.

“What Have I Done!?” His yell echoes in the chamber, the chair he was sitting in screeching back against the stone and almost falling back as Jaskier shoved himself upright. “I’ve been trying, I have, and I know this isn’t my place and I know it’s not my home, but Gods, I thought I was being a good Guest. Then Low and Behold, suddenly i can’t find anyone and no one will tell me things and Fuck…” Jaskier’s voice breaks. He can handle people not liking him, he’s known plenty of people who do. But they at least had the decency to tell him why, even if it was a knife shaped bunch of words.

Vesimir strides up to the bards side  and clasps his arms, soothing the strong quaking Jaskier was ringing from his body. "Easy boy, Easy!" He said, ducking his head to make eye contact with the now weeping bard. "I've never seen the boys happier than when you're here. Jaskier, I'm sure they're just being Idiots." Vesimir reassures as he rubs circles into the bard’s arms.

“Come On,” Vesimir says in a tender and gentle voice. “I’ll make you some tea, and we can have dinner and talk. I’m sure we can get down to whatever funny business those boys are cooking up.” Jaskier only nods, weakly. Gods it was time for dinner. He’d been so lost in his own head that he hadn’t realized that Night had settled over the mountains.

Vesimir’s hand came up to his back to guide him down the halls, small shakes still slithering through Jaskier every so often, and it didn’t help that the whole castle was in a constant state of cold. He stumbled through the long halls, his head still running through every possible mistake he made, every wrong reply or ill timed Joke. He wanted to believe Vesimir, that this was just something not of ill intent, but Jaskier dreaded the worst of outcomes. Vesimir’s hand left him to open the large doors to the dining hall, a dim light shining under where it barely hit the floor. It was pushed open, and at the mere crack of it, Jaskier was sent reeling.

There was warm orange light, and an intense warmth enveloping him as the entire hall seemed to be warmed to well above what was needed, and the cold in his fingers and toes started to burn away. And the Smells, oh Gods, Jaskier couldn’t dare compare it to what he is served at banquets or weddings. This was better and strong and it found its way deep into his lungs and stomach and it growled worse than any beast Geralt had ever fallen. They walk in and the table, the one that they always sat at for meals, was heavily set with perfectly cooked and spiced game birds and roasted veggies and bread that smelled fresher than anything he had ever been met with here. Tankards were filled with something dark and strong, he’s sure, and by all the Gods above, Jaskier was about to cry just then and there.

He didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until he heard a solid ‘Ahem’ from behind him. Turning quick, some smiles struck him something heavy. Eskel, covered in flour and wiping his hands with a rag gave the gentlest smile his face was allowed. Lambert stood next to him, smelling of something Jaskier could trace back to the tankards, and that devilish grin staining his face. Lastly, Vesimir with his arms crossed and a beam of pride spread across his lips as he clapped a hand on Lambert’s shoulder. Jaskier could feel his eyes suddenly burn, and every negging word of doubt scattered.

“You...What’s all This?” Calloused hands motioned back to the table behind him and then back towards the line of Witchers. 

“Geralt said it was your birthday,” Eskel hummed, the rag he was working getting flung onto his shoulder. “He wanted your first one at the Keep to be Special, so we…” His voice trailed off as his hand gestured to the feast in question.

There was movement, all the Witcher’s knew there had to be, but in a single instant, the bard was pulling all of them into the biggest hug he could muster. His arms barely wrapped around everyones bulky shoulders, but they weren’t going to let him do all the work anyways. A menagerie of arms held each other, solidly, as somewhere deep in the mess, a bard sobbed tears of exasperated relief and joy. There was something missing, though, something that tainted the whole night from being perfect. Jaskier was let go as he tugged back a bit to look at the group, noticing one white haired Witcher missing from the lot.

“Wher-” his question was nipped at the bud.

“Geralt will be here, he’s just cleaning up,” Lambert reassured as he ruffled through that mop of brown on Jaskier’s head. “Come on, I’m starving. We’ve been waiting for you too long, let’s dig in!”

And Dig in they did, not unlike an actual pack of wolves. Everything was divine, the birds roasted and perfectly moist and flavorful, and Gods, Jaskier hasn’t stuffed himself this much since that one time he and Geralt got lost on the backroads for a little bit too long. The drinks were pleasantly sweet, a vast difference from anything Lambert had previously made for him, but it still made his head fuzzy at the edges and warmed his gut. Thoroughly enjoying the display in front of him, the night was carrying onward, and Jaskier was almost worried Geralt wouldn’t be showing his face.

Almost, was the key word.

While Lambert was topping off whatever number of drink they were on, the heavy doors swung open again and let in a wave of cool air that was, honestly, refreshing and just a hint sobering. In the doorway stood the last and late-est Witcher, and Jaskier could instantly see why. He looked clean, neater than he usually does, dressed up in a very familiar silk-trader shirt that Jaskier had dressed him in before more than once. His hair was brushed and half up in a neat bun. There was something tucked under his arm but Jaskier was thoroughly distracted that he had barely enough time to notice before the Witcher was standing next to him

“Hello,” The bard cooed as he turned in his seat to give Geralt his full attention. And he smiled, Metelile, The Witcher smiled at him unabashed and shameless.

“Hey,” Geralt hummed, his one free hand coming to mess with the already tussled brown locks. “Happy Birthday.” They laughed, everyone, cozy and throaty and roaring in Jaskier’s chest.

“Is this why you’ve disappeared all week? Almost sending me into a spiral so you could throw all of this together?” Jaskier waved his arms around at the occupied table in front of him. Geralt just smiled at the floor and quirked his head that Jaskier only saw when he was flustered.

“Partially,” He responded. “This was put together mostly with their help, like you said you wanted,” Geralt’s head motioned towards his two brothers who just raised their cups towards the two of them. “I was busy…”Geralt shifted, kneeling fucking Kneeling, infront of Jaskier and taking the parcel under his arm and placing it on his leg like it was a table. “Making these for you.”

Jaskier’s heart skipped as the leather bound present was offered to him. His hands touched the rough material for a moment before he brought the heavier-than-expected gift into his lap. He locked eyes with Geralt, squinting and suspicious, but that only made the Witcher smile sweeter than before, a hint of Eagerness in his eyes. Leather ties were worked under calloused fingers, strands tugged this way and that to extract whatever this was from it’s wrapping. The scraps of hide were pushed away and left in Jaskier’s lap, intricate and detailed, were two dark leather sheaths, scenes of wildflowers and stars decorating the smooth holsters. Jaskier could already feel tears start to well, almost not wanting to believe what he was just given, but as he looked back up to those molten gold eyes that seemed to be brighter than the very sun, it grounded the bard in reality.

“Geralt you really did-” Jaskier’s words were cut short again.

“Just open them,” Geralt instructed. Jaskier was never one to leave Geralt waiting, so he tugged at the brown leather wrapped hilt of one of the blades.

A Dagger, it was. Steel, cold, and a terrible kind of sharp that made him shiver. It was beautifully designed, the blade itself engraved with calligraphed words down right down the center that read “Yet Here We Are”. It was balanced and shining and so incredibly perfect that his breath caught in his throat as he looked it over. Only a thread was holding Jaskier together that he almost didn’t dare open the second, but he was once again faced with that beautiful face of pleading sweetness that Geralt bore for him that he had no other choice.

He pulled the other one free and this one was Silver, he knew, having to discern the difference to properly care for Geralt’s blades. It was nearly identical, the shape and make just as beautiful and radiant as the steel one but instead of words, engraved down the center was a single dandelion puff, it’s seeds scattering into a wind that drew it up the middle and away into oblivion. They were beautiful, Jaskier thought un-eloquently, every adjective he had deserting him in a second. His eyes were stuck for a long moment that he didn’t realize he was crying until one of his tears smudged his reflection in the weapon.

“You...This...Gods, Geralt, Why?” His voice croaked out, soaked with happiness that it hurt. He caught the Witcher sniffle at the beginning of a chuckle, just as his large hand landed on his knee.

“I’ve missed many winters with you, many celebrations, many words I could have said,” Geralt admitted, his other hand coming to rid the bard of his tears. “I wanted to make it up to you. I wanted to remind you that you matter to us. To Me,” his hand fell to hold his bard’s hand and Jaskier gripped it tight enough to pinch, just wanting to make sure this was real and not some sick dream. “And I’m sorry for being such a fucking fool.”

They laughed, the two of them, just in that little space that they shared. Jaskier’s chest ached in the best kind of way, slow and full of that rumbling thing called affection that clawed at him everytime he was with Geralt; That rumbling churned into a full on storm fueled by tenderness and alcohol and the feeling of being wanted. That feeling of being finally, after a long harsh winter, home. His head bumped against Geralt’s in an unelegant way but he couldn't find the smallest part of him that cared.

“Gods Above Geralt, If you don’t kiss me I might break,” Jaskier whispers, rasped and breathy. Before he could take it back, before he had fucking time to worry about what he said, there were lips against his, inviting and soft and overwhelming and not nearly enough all at the same time. Hollars were there, laughs and roars of excitement, but the bard would be damned if he focused on anything other than here and now and Geralt. 

They pulled apart, their lips just ghosting over each other for seconds and all the while Jaskier couldn’t find it in him to open his eyes. It was just right, that solidness he leaned against, sturdy and warm and smiling at him if Jaskier had to guess. Vision returned and it was flooded with gold and a warm blush painted across Geralt’s cheeks, a proper smile carving into his face like it was meant to be there, and be there for him to see only. Jaskier was spoiled rotten, but he couldn’t find it in him to want to stop.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed again, jolly and soothing. “So...Have a happy birthday?” He asks, chuckling. 

“Gods, Geralt,” Jaskier scoffed as he went back into to trap the man with another kiss like this could all be gone tomorrow. “The best,” he responds as they break.

Geralt’s arms envelope the shorter man in front of him and hold him like his life depended on it. Because it really did, he found, his very soul being soothed by the warm contact they shared. ‘Perfect’ he thought to himself, ‘This is perfect.’ His nose buried into his neck and it felt like it was carved out specifically for himself.

This truly was a present fit for his Bard.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher netflix #Winter fluff fic #Idiots to lovers #Geralt has no brain cells #Just the way we like em here out in Witcher country

[whitehotharlots]

CRT and the sad state of educational politics

If our culture is studied 100 years from now, the predominant theme of the research will be a sense of perplexed revulsion toward how we did nothing to address the climate crisis in spite of having decades of forewarning. If there is a second theme, it will be a profound confusion regarding our immense and unearned sense of self-certainty. A retrospective of the early twenty first century would be titled something like Who the Fuck Did These People Think They Were? 

The latter theme is illustrated in the debacle surrounding a recent slew of municipal and statewide bills that seek to ban the teaching of Critical Race Theory (CRT) in public schools. For the record, I am strongly against these bans. But I’m also self-aware enough to know my opinion matters very little, and therefore realize that an analysis of the discussion surrounding the bills will yield much more worthwhile observations than a simple delimitation of their pros and cons. Regardless of your personal opinion, I hope you’ll humor me.

I am, in some regards, a moral absolutist. But I also realize that abstract morality has very little bearing on material and political realities. In my ideal world, classrooms are free from political meddling. Teachers teach to the best of their ability, presenting students with truths that are confidently unvarnished due to the thorough amount of work that was required to reach them. I don’t cotton any of that socratic bullshit. Students are there to learn, not to engage in weird Gotchas with some perverted elder. The teacher’s job is to teach. The material they teach needs to be subjected to some graspable and standardized mechanism of truth adjudication before it is worthy of being taught. Teaching is not therapy. Teaching is not poetry. Teaching is not love, nor is it religion, nor is it a means of social or political indoctrination. There are plenty of other avenues available to accomplish all of those other things. Teaching is teaching. 

That’s the ideal. But ideals are just ideals. They never come true. The art of teaching, regardless of setting--from overpacked classrooms to face-to-face instruction to curricular design to nationwide pedagogical initiatives--boils down to a teacher’s ability to reconcile the need to convey truths with social and political pressures that are heavily invested in the suppression of truth. 

I have formally studied and practiced education for nearly two decades. In that time, the prevailing political thrust toward education has been a desire to casualize the practice of teaching, to render educators as cheap and fungible as iphones. The thrust takes different shapes depending on the political affiliation of whomever happens to be in charge of the state and federal governments that fund education, but the ultimate desire is always the same. The goal is always to attempt to make teaching rote and algorithmic, something akin to running a google search for How to do math? or What is morality?. The framing is always just windowdressing, empty culture war bullshit. 

Maybe it’s the inescapability of this thrust that’s rendered so many educators so blind to it? We only have nominal political choice, after all. The discourse gets more blinkered and vicious as the stakes decrease. At any rate, this is the undeniable reality, and anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth listening to. 

Non-administrative per-pupil spending as been on a steady decline since George W. Bush was president. Administrative bloat and meddling are becoming as common in k-12 as they are in higher education. The will of parasitic NGOs are implemented as common sense pedagogy without anyone even bothering to ask for any proof that they work. The so-called Education Reform movement is sputtering out due both to its manifest failures and rare, bipartisan backlash. But it will be replaced with something just as idiotic and pernicious. The thrust of causalization will not abate. 

And so what do we decide to do? What’s the next big thing on the education policy horizon? Critical Race Theory. 

Okay, this makes sense. In 2021, a local paper can’t run a news story about a lost cat without explicitly mentioning the race of every human involved and possibly also nodding toward the implied cisnormativity of pet ownership. So it makes sense that this broad rhetorical mandate would come to dominate the transitional period between Bush-Obama Education Reform and whatever bleak future awaits us. The controversy is so perfectly inefficacious that its adoption was inevitable. Because, seriously, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of the outcome of this kerfuffle, no problems will be solved. The real shortcomings of public education will not be addressed. Larger social problems that are typically blamed on public education in spite of having little to do with public education will especially not be addressed. Maybe white kids will have to do struggle sessions in lieu of the Pledge of Allegiance. Maybe black kids will get full credit for drawing the Slayer logo in the part of the test where their geometric proof is supposed to go. Or maybe it won’t happen. Maybe instead these practices will be banned, and in turn liberals will begin to embrace homeschooling, the charter movement will be given new life as a refuge against the terrors of white supremacist behaviors such as, uhh, teaching kids to show their work. Whatever.

Within the context of public education, the outcome will not matter. It cannot matter. There will be broader social impacts, sure. It will continue to drive Democrats more rightward, providing their party’s newly woke corporate wing with progressive-sounding rationales for austerity. But so far as teachers and students are concerned, it won’t matter.

Why do I give a shit about this, then? To put it bluntly, I’m struck by the utter fucking inartfulness of CRT’s proponents. At no point has any advocate of CRT presented a case for their approach to education that was at all concerned with persuading people who aren’t already 100% in their camp. There’s been no demonstration of positive impacts, or even an explanation of how the impacts could hypothetically be positive. In fact, so much as asking for such a rationale is considered proof of racism. Advocates posit an image of existing educational policies that is absolutely fantastical, suggesting that kids never learn about slavery or racism or civil rights. But then... then they don’t even stick with the kayfabe. They’ll say “kids never learn about racism.” In response, people--mostly well-meaning--say “wait, umm, I’m pretty sure they do learn about racism.” The response is “we never said they don’t learn about racism.” You’ll see this shift from one paragraph to the next. It’s insane. Absolutely insane. 

Or take this talk from a pro-CRT workshop in Oregon. The speaker freely admits that proto-CRT leanings like anti-bias education, multiculturalism, and centering race in historical discussions have been the norm since the late 1980s. The speaker admits that these practices have been commonplace for 30+ years, as anyone my age or younger will attest. Then, seconds later, the speaker discusses the results of this shift: it failed. Unequivocally:

We had this huge, huge, huge focus on culturally relevant teaching and research. [ ... ] So you would think that with 40+ years of research and really focusing and a lot of lip service and a lot of policies and, you know, a lot of rhetoric about cultural relevancy and about equity and about anti-bias that we would see trends that are significantly different, [but] that’s not what we’re finding. What we’re finding that you see [is] that some cases, particularly black and brown [students] the results, the academic achievement has either stayed the same and gotten worse.

Translation: here’s this approach to teaching. It’s new and vital but also we’ve been doing it for 40 years. It doesn’t work. But we need to keep doing it. Anyone who is in any way confused by this is a dangerous racist. 

Even in the darkest days of the Bush-era culture war, I never saw such a complete and open disregard for honesty. This isn’t to say that Bush-era conservatives weren’t shit-eating liars. They were. But they had enough savvy to realize that self-righteousness alone is not an effective way of doing politics. You need to at least pretend to be engaging with issues in good faith. 

This is what happens when a movement has its head so far up its own ass that it cannot comprehend the notion of good-faith criticism. These people do not believe that there can exist anyone who shares their basic goals but has concerns that their methods might not work. Their self-certainty is so absolute and unshakeable that they can proffer data demonstrating the complete ineffectiveness of their methods as proof of the necessity of their methods.

For decades, the most effective inoculation against pernicious meddling in education has been to lean upon the ideal form of teaching I described earlier in this post. We claimed that teaching is apolitical and that no one is trying to indoctrinate anybody. Regardless of the abstract impossibility of this claim, it has immense and lasting appeal, and it was upheld by a system of pedagogical standards that allowed teachers to evoke a sense of neutrality. The prevailing thrust in liberal education is to explicitly reject any such notions, and no one--not a single goddamn person--has proffered a convincing replacement for it. We still say, laughably, that we’re eschewing indoctrination. But people aren’t that stupid. If you find it beneath yourself to make your lies digestible, people will be able to tell when you’re lying to them. 

This, my friends, bodes very poorly for the future of education, regardless of whatever happens in the coming months. A movement that cannot articulate its own worth is not one that is long for this world. Teachers themselves are the only force that can resit the slow press toward the eventual elimination of public education, and they have embraced a worldview and comportment style that renders them absolutely unable to mount any worthwhile resistance. 

[nightswithkookmin]

Hello Goldy 💜 So JK dint post for Jin and so does Tae. Both of them di t post for Jinins bday also. Whats going on here ? I dont understand if JK and Tae have been banned from posting on their boyfriends bday. As u can tell i am both Jikook and Taejin shipper. What do u think is happening or should i say not happening.

This topic...

Hold on, lemme put on my tinfoil hat:

I got nothing. Lol.

Secondly, aaaaah Tae Kook!

Lol. Tae Kook. The evil power duo of BTS, my favorite rageddy boogie men of ship street Avenue, PPP- pathological party poopers of Bangtan fantasyland- stomping on shipper's parade, putting commas in people's hopes and dreams. Y'all didn't get the memo? When we said y'all be snatching hearts, this is not the kind of horror heart snatching we was talking about! Y'all ratchet for this shit. Lol.

Someone give them the memo. Atatatatatat.

Lmho.

I mean for Jk, I've already speculated a few times- several times now, how I feel he's kind off been on a self assertive journey since late 2019 and coupled with a lot of things I felt was happening with him, Jimin and group around that period, that him not posting for the members' birthdays sort of make a lot of sense to me.

I've also speculated on what I felt was going on with Kook, RM and Tae around JM's birthday this year, so Tae not posting for JM also sort of made sense to me?

Tae missed Jimin's birthday as well. It would have been 'problematic' in today's social media climate if he posted for any body else within the group after that. It's the same with JK when he missed Jin's birthday last December- had he posted for anybody else, I'm afraid several trucks would have been sent to BigHit HQ demanding his head on a spike. Chileee.

Can't blame them though. Even the members themselves, during 2017 Festa, descended hard on JK for gifting a present to Jimin and not the others- they pay attention to these things, you know? Jin in his recent VLive had said he had been up waiting for texts and all- or something along the lines of that, and I'm pretty sure he pays attention to who posts what on their Twitter account on his birthday. Well we know Jimin does this too. Lol.

You don't need to be a mad scientist to figure out that one member posting for another and not the others would make the members feel some kind of way about it even if they don't say it out loud.

Frankly, like I said, I feel they set themselves up for this shit- miss one, miss them all or risk solo stans coming for your ass. That's how we roll on these fang gang streets. Lol.

But for Kook, I sort of felt his was deliberate- may be an impulsive decision at the time, but deliberate nonetheless. I mean he had all 24 hours post Jin's birthday to belate that shit- better late than never, but he didn't do that.

Whatever had transpired within that period- which I've speculated on in past posts, I feel that had pushed him to his breaking point and had incentivized him or propelled him to reel back, reevaluate his goals, intentions, purpose, calling- whatever you wanna call it, and eventually had embarked on a journey to reassert himself and take back control of his life all throughout 2020- until recent times...

- Y'all see Jikook's dynamics have flipped again post Jimin's birthday right? Clear your schedules. We gone talk. Soon. Muhahaha.

I don said, Jikook have/had been asserting themselves against eachother and against the group this year. And for Jk, that self assertion would come in the form of him putting up boundaries and reinforcing already existing boundaries among other things, which would in turn require him demanding and demonstrating his independence from anything and anyone he had relinquished his self autonomy to- prior to. In my opinion.

I'm gonna step on a few toes here and regurgitate, JK didn't just take a step back from his life, he took a step back from Jimin as well, in my opinion- I can literally hear temperatures rising. Chilee. Lmho.

It's easy to lose yourself in the process of loving someone. And when you love this person more than you love yourself, in the thick of love, under heavy public and peer scrutiny, where you are being told to change this and that about yourself everyday and everytime as a prerequisite for being able to love this person you want within a group; then you are bound to end up with nothing but the total eradication of who you are at your core or at least a drift away from your true self and the expressions of it... Sigh.

I mean all the, 'try not to be so possessive, he's our friend too' 'operation neutralize Jikook' 'chilee, don't lean too much into him, this is an award' 'I've got Jimin, restrain Kook' 'oh I think you stared too long here' 'look away' 'you got him a present, why didn't you get us any' 'is that your heart eyes?' 'Tuck it away' 'why do you film Jimin a lot?' 'use this person, not Jimin for your GCF if you want the clicks' 'GCF in Tokyo? How about OT7 in wherever mate?' - all these little tweaks and adjustments he's had to make to his personality and his expressions of self in order to hide his relationship within the group climaxes honestly. In my opinion. And late 2019 to me was that peak for JK. Again, in my opinion.

Changes like these don't come drastically. They creep up on you. Its slippery slope till you're caught knee deep in the mud. For instance, notice when the members complained about him not caring for them because he hadn't presented them with gifts like he did Jimin, he had agreed immediately to give them presents in the future in order to not answer to their question of why he had chosen to give just Jimin a present. That compromise to me was one of the early signs of him losing his authenticity. In my opinion.

Jimin and the members were quick to point out that he didn't have to do that because giving and gifting were not obligations and honestly they were right. He doesn't have to do things if he doesn't want to.

That's the paradox of Jungkook. He does the things he wants to do without shame and he is fearless and unapologetic about it. But you see, he is also often very passive when it comes to the things he doesn't want to do and would hesitate in insisting on his boundaries until he is pushed to his limits- from my observation of his interactions with the members and I think Suga and RM have talked about this too.

A classic example of this is his conversation with Jimin about their friendship- when Jimin said they were in between love and friends. His hesitation was a sign he was uncomfortable with that description but he didn't assert himself over it.

Another example would be Jimin saying during their log that he was taking a liking to JK- JK didn't react as much but JM turning to ask him if he was ok with him saying things like that was a sign they had had the talk about 'boundaries.'

JK is a very assertive person but his position as the youngest within the group places a lot of restrictions on his assertiveness I feel.

We talk a lot about Jimin being Kumbaya and sacrificing a lot of their personal happiness for the good of the group- well, I've been talking. Y'all don't say shit much- fuxking lurkers 😒 y'all suck. Lol. [Delete before you post, you idiot. They don't know you like that]

Anywho, we often talk about Jimin in this context but we- by we, I mean I, don't talk enough about all the ways JK often sacrifices his authenticity for the Kumbaya of the group as well. But unlike Jimin, I feel JK does it so he can keep his glass closet- fucking whippidy whip whipped. Lol.

And it's crazy because that sacrifice he makes of his true feelings and it's expression is what often leads people to question whether he acts exclusively with JM at all.

Often I hear shippers complain about how he did this with Jimin but he did similar thing with another member- listen, if you've heard JK sigh upon seeing RM imitating his mannerisms to try to neutralize his nonverbal gestures around Jimin, you'd understand what exclusivity means for him.

And when, you think about that he had to apologize to and explain himself for choosing to wear his man's bag over another member- it's not hard to see where his authentic self began to erode- It started from the moment the apologies begun. Never apologize for who you are- class dismissed. Lol.

Then he goes on to talk about losing his passions for his GCFs, his music- this is a person everyone within the group had said is or was the most passionate member within the group... You gotta wonder where it all went wrong. Know what I mean? Come on work me. I'm writing this at 2am. Lol.

I think Jimin was right when he said giving should never be a task. You should give from your heart and from your own free will. Not for show, and certainly not to please anyone.

Wishing a member a happy birthday should never be a duty, task or obligation- especially when such moments and expressions of it has become performative over the years rather than as true expressions of the love and affections they have for eachother- ok, I'm dozing off now. Lmho.

I mean let's face it, posting on Twitter for eachother has become more of a culture and an established tradition within the group that sentimental members within the group hold on to.

The birthday twitter post has been hijacked and lowkey/highkey advances the OT7 kumbaya agenda BigHit is bent on pushing and sells the BTS bromance fantasy to us rather than an actual representation of their love for eachother. In my opinion. I could be wrong about this.

JK asserting himself would mean him choosing not to participate in expressions that to him are performative, shallow and lacks depth whatsoever.

I know what you are gonna say- but but Jimin's birthday. But but but nothing. Lol. I have said I felt he was going to post for Jimin's birthday. Dude geared up for it with the 5/8 and everything.

And given as he's been on a journey to do the things he wants to and to pursue meaning in his expressions of self within the group, I feel and I believe he believes wishing his man a happy birthday on social is meaningful- Confirmation bias this shit. Lol.

Not that the act itself is meaningful, but that the act holds meaning to Jimin. I think I've talked extensively about Jimin and how important his birthday is to him. The only reason I feel he wouldn't or didn't post for him was if Jimin had asked him not to- which I believe he did. Posting for Jimin would have been tantamount to outing their relationship gangster style. Lol.

And we all know how the members feel about that. Smirk.

So no, I don't think he's been banned from posting for his man's birthday. I think this is him deciding not to partake in performative expressions of love- perhaps because that has never been him?

I don't know for Tae's Journey. His decision not to post feels very random to me. Who knows, he and JK have been talking a lot lately it seems and getting closer post Sope. So if you ask me, this perhaps is him taking a page out of JK's self help book and pursuing that authenticity of self expressions I've talked about?

I mean he did do awesome things for Jin's birthday so I don't think we can complain much. Getting his friends to wish Jin a happy birthday certainly pulls weight over a second post on Twitter. Jin got a birthday party with the members, RM had the same.....

The thing that bothers me and my friends over here about Jikook's incident is the lack of closure after that traumatizing experience.

With the others JK didn't post for, at least we got to see him in a VLive with them interacting and just giving us moments here and there. So even if he didn't post, we know he was with them and they shared the memory of that day together- which I feel is what we shippers want. For them to show eachother love- whatever way they express it.

With Jimin- Nada. Zero. Zilch. We got nothing my guy. Jimin didn't share any insight or give any details remotely resembling closure for us. We were hoping for a bangtan bomb or Episode but nothing so far. I hate it here.

We didn't get to see JK showing the love we know he feels for Jimin- he's proven time and again he loves that man. We didn't get to see them share the memories of that day together. Not even through narration- Jimin, you sonova bish! Lol.

Would I ever move on from that incident? No.

Do I want to move on from that incident- chileee I've been trying. It would haunt me for the rest of my Jikook life. Lol. I still get get nightmares thinking about it and it's Christmas. Sigh.

I think we would have to observe rather than anticipate how they choose to express and communicate their love for one another- especially Jikook and by extension Taejin- chilee Anon, I respect your hustle. Lol.

I don't blame you though. I mean sometimes Jin be looking like he wants to gobb-ok

What was your question again? Lol. I hope I answered it. Chilee. Keep supporting Jikook.

Signed,

GOLDY