#“my husband” but it's mc mixing up the past and the present

[romance-rambles]

my brain: you should write lars fluff

me, a huge fan of identity shenanigans: say no more *already pulling out a comically large folder of lars WIPs* so here's what i was thinking: blah blah blah blah blahblah blah—

*spongebob narrator* a few moments later

me: —and so that's how he starts suspecting—

my brain: yeah, yeah, whatever. what if you wrote clarence though

me:

me: you know what. you're so right. gonna go smooch the archmage brb

[welllpthisishappening]

Where the Love Light Gleams

Killian was going to kill his brother. 

Which wasn’t very festive, but neither was being away from his girlfriend on Christmas Eve and this was all Liam’s fault. Or so he would claim. While rationalizing his current tendency to wallow, and stare at his phone and he’d spent far too much time on his phone that night. 

Whatever, it was Christmas Eve. That was definitely a reasonable excuse. 

---

Rating: Teen, with banter and friendship and kissing Word Count: 5.1 K AN: It’s me! Someone who can’t seem to write an MC to save her present life, but loves few things more than Christmas-type fluff and is therefore filling Christmas-type prompts again. Today’s comes from @shireness-says​​ who is always wonderful about replying to these sort of things and requested: 

"you had a business trip and i missed you so much that i kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?" and “we’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

Both of which I almost legitimately filled. Just kind of—twisted. As is tradition. If you are so inclined to send a prompt from this very long list, you can pick one here, and I’ll do my best to write it before Christmas. 

This one is also on Ao3 if that’s your jam, where I’ll be posting all of ‘em. 

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“Are you moping? It kind of looks like you’re moping.”

“Wow, such unparalleled observational skills. You should become a private investigator.”

Sticking her tongue out, Ariel made some sort of objection-type noise in the back of her throat, which probably would have made Killian smile in any other situation. On any other day. A day that wasn’t Christmas Eve. 

When he was absolutely, positively moping. 

It was a miracle he hadn’t frozen like this. That would have done irreparable damage to his spine, he was sure. 

He wasn’t really sitting up very straight. 

“There can’t possibly still be private investigators in the world,” Ariel challenged, brushing a wayward strand of hair away from her face and it was far too windy on the docks. If Killian didn’t get off the docks soon, he was going to scream. 

Or mope for the rest of the holiday season. At least until the New Year. That seemed reasonable, honestly. 

He was going to strangle Liam. 

This was all his fault. 

“You’re kidding me, right? What—what kind of world do you think we’re living in?” Ariel shrugged. “One that’s progressed past the need for private investigators, obviously. And I object to the notion that I would require any sort of PI-type skills to know that you’re being an absolute and complete, although also kind of understandable, idiot.” 

“Those words don’t go together.” “What do people hire private investigators for, anyway?” “Loads of stuff.” “Give me one example.” He huffed, irritation rattling around his skull and mixing in with a begrudging appreciation because he knew Ariel felt bad and maybe he’d kick Liam too. “Missing kids.” “Yeesh, that’s awfully negative.” “What was that about accusing me of moping before? I’m playing to those accusations.” “Ok, but we already decided they were observations, so you don’t get to rename them now that you’re feeling particularly jerk-like.” “I’m here, aren’t I? Makes it seem less jerk-like.”

Another shrug. And a specific quirk of her lips that Killian was far too well-acquainted with. The muscles in his cheeks were almost starting to ache. 

Presumably from holding them in this position for so long. 

He was absolutely moping. 

But he’d already been in Boston two days longer than he planned on, and none of this was really going according to plan. He’d checked his phone no less than forty-seven times in the last forty-five minutes. He hated that. Staring at that screen made him feel like a clingy freak, who couldn’t go more than a few minutes without talking to his girlfriend, and Killian had complained about those people enough times that his current tendency to do it made him despise himself just a bit. 

And yet he couldn’t stop. 

His thumbs flew across the keys, sending complaints and updates and smiling in spite of his own situation. 

Like a psychopath. One who was quite obviously frustrated. 

With several thousand things, it seemed — the most pressing of which was his distinct lack of festive nature, caused almost entirely by the issues with the expansion in Boston and adding another ship in Boston was supposed to be easy. 

Until Eric got the flu, and it was understandably difficult to captain a sightseeing holiday cruise when you couldn’t actually stand up for more than two minutes at a time, and Killian couldn’t say no to his brother when they both had so much money tied up in this, and if Liam was going to fly in to make sure everything stayed the metaphorical course, then the least Killian could do was drive in from New York. 

Or so Liam had told him. In no uncertain terms. 

Except Liam had also brought Belle with him and that somehow seemed like cheating, and Killian should have asked Emma to come. 

She had to work. He’d missed Mary Margaret and David’s Christmas Eve party. 

Which normally wouldn’t have felt like the end of the world, partially because Mary Margaret’s fruitcake was notoriously awful, but this year it made Killian’s heart feel like it was fragmenting in his chest and Emma’s photos had gotten progressively more and more blurry as the night went on. Mary Margaret also notoriously bought a questionable number of Prosecco bottles for the Christmas Eve party. 

“You are,” Ariel agreed, a string of words that caught Killian off guard when he was so deep in his own wallowing. “Which is super nice, but—” “—How can there be a but in this situation?” “There are several, actually, except the biggest one is how three different people on tonight’s cruise wanted to know why the first mate was so obviously distracted.” “They called me first mate?” “People think it’s funny to use nautical terms in real life.”

Slumping forward did not do anything to help the state of Killian’s spine, only managed to make sure his hair fluttered in front of his eyes when a salt-tinged breeze blew off the Harbor and he briefly wondered how dramatic he could get. He needed to exhale some more. 

He needed to go home. “Anyway,” Ariel continued, “they wanted to know why the first mate was on his phone all the time, and if the first mate was available and—” “—I’m sorry, what?”

“You have a face, you know that right?” “Now you’re just saying words.”

If she kept sticking her tongue out at its current rate, it was going to get frost-bitten. “These are compliments, you’re an ass and I owe you just—a metric ton of rum, the good kind, for doing all of this.” “Giving me whiplash,” Killian muttered, but one side of his mouth tugged up despite his best efforts to remain as depressing as possible. Ariel’s eyes got brighter. Rivaled the lights still flickering along the railing of their very nice, very new, decidedly expensive multi-level ship, and it had only taken about fourteen seconds for Killian to make that one photo Emma had sent him his phone background. 

That probably wasn’t weird.

“So, people wanted to know about you,” Ariel said, “and your previously discussed face, and rather than employee a PI because it’s not 1947—” “—Oddly specific.” “I will kill you.” “God bless us, everyone.” “Your very helpful and exceedingly sure of his own obnoxious brand of humor brother was very quick to inform all the interested parties that the first mate was distracted because he unfortunately wasn’t with his wife for Christmas.”

Ariel’s murder threat was not only out of place considering the date, it was pointless because he was going to guarantee he died all on his own. Killian nearly fell off the edge of the dock. 

One of his knees buckled, gaping at his friend and business partner like she’d only recently grown a few extra heads. She didn’t shrug again. Smiled, in her best impression of a variety of fictional and overly confident cats, but her shoulders stayed frustratingly still and that was—

“Emma and I aren’t married,” Killian sputtered, not entirely stunned to find those particular words difficult to say in that order. Half a plan rattled around with the rest of the emotions circling his skull, and he hadn’t really acted on the plan, but he’d been pondering and considering for at least a few weeks before his phone had rung. 

And that was only kind of a lie. 

He’d been doing a lot more than pondering for much longer than a few weeks. Considering had flown out the imaginary window, like—as soon as he and Emma had moved in together. 

Liam didn’t know any of that, though. 

At least in theory. 

Maybe strangling his brother was something of an overreaction. 

He still wanted to go home, though. 

“Liam knows that,” Ariel reasoned, “and I know that. And obviously you know that, but none of your on-water admirers know that, and you were playing your part very well.” “What?” “Glued to your phone, all night. Like a clingy newlywed.” “That’s ridiculous.” “Is it? Because while not technically true—” “—Or true at all,” Killian interrupted, and he wondered if he was getting used to the feel of his heart doing whatever it was doing, or he was just growing more melodramatic by the second. At some point in the last twelve minutes the idea of walking back to New York had become rather appealing. 

“Well, whatever. It was a good excuse, and it’s not like it was one-sided texting and it’s kind of romantic. All things considered.” “What are all the things, exactly?” That shrug came with another smile — far too knowing for Killian’s liking, but he also knew Ariel wouldn’t go back on her rum-buying word, and he supposed there was something to be said for that. Especially if it was good rum. “If you’re going to play the part…” “Look who’s being a romantic now.” “I’ve spent most of the lead-up to Christmas trying to force-feed Pedialyte on my husband. Got to get my romance from somewhere and you’re like—Hallmark Channel ready.” “Probably couldn’t have as much alcohol, then.” “How many bottles of Prosecco do you think Mary Margaret bought this year?”

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, Killian scrolled back through the more than two dozen photos he’d been sent over the course of the night until he found the one he was looking for. Of a table covered in green-hued bottles with plastic champagne flutes that Mary Margaret must have bought in bulk and— 

Ariel’s laugh hung in the air around them, louder than it probably should have been considering the time, but they were also by themselves and he was still kind of moping. So. The world could cope with their collective volume. 

“Do you think she gets a discount for buying so many?” Killian shook his head. “If she doesn’t, she’s being robbed.” “Get the private investigators on the case.” “Challenge Liam to a comedic battle.” “Not if we’re calling it that,” Ariel argued, bumping her shoulder against Killian’s leg. And he wasn’t sure if he was actually smiling, but his lips were moving and his heart didn’t appear to be shattering quite as much anymore and he hoped Emma fell asleep. 

On Mary Margaret and David’s couch. 

They wouldn’t let her go home, he was sure. 

He hadn't gotten a text in awhile. 

He was less sure about the shadows moving towards them, though — because he’d been a little distracted when they docked, but he watched Liam and Belle get into their rental car and there was absolutely no reason for either one of them to be back on the docks, but anyone else showing up on the docks at eleven o’clock at night was probably a sign that Killian and Ariel were about to be robbed. In a far more literal sense than whatever happened with Mary Margaret and her plastic champagne flutes. 

“You guys good?” Ariel asked, sounding more aware of what was going on than she should have been. Killian’s eyes narrowed. 

That made it only slightly difficult to see the overall width of his brother’s answering smile. 

Plus, it was dark out.

“Better,” Liam said, “she's an absolute natural.”

Scrunching her nose, Belle waved off the compliment. “Please, all I have to do is stand there and be helpful.” “Yeah, but that’s more than Killian was able to do today, so…” “He was distracted.” “And standing right here,” Killian muttered, although standing was a little generous. His left knee was still awful bent. In an unnatural sort of way. “Doesn’t that hurt?” Liam asked. Gesturing towards Killian’s posture, he tilted his head and that was even more judgmental than any of the words Ariel hadn’t bothered saying. “Can’t be good for your ACL or whatever.” Belle clicked her tongue. “Adding the whatever makes it sound less official, really.” “And we’re trying to be official,” Ariel chipped in, clamoring to her feet. By using the side of Killian’s jacket for leverage, tugging on fabric until she threatened to tear it and that also would have been impressive if it didn’t feel suspiciously like he was about to pass out. 

She wrapped her arms around Killian’s middle. 

That kind of helped, honestly. 

He’d never admit to it.   

“Official about what, exactly?” Killian asked. “What are you guys doing here?”

Liam’s smile got wider. “We could ask you the same question, but we’ve already claimed way too much of your time and—” “—Wait, what?” “Killian seriously,” Ariel sighed, “if you keep interrupting, we’re never going to get to the fun and passably romantic part of the plan.” “Oh, no it’s definitely more than passably romantic,” Belle argued. 

“Depends on him, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but he was glued to his phone and I’ve got at least twenty bucks on this happening before New Year’s Eve, so—” “—New Year’s Eve would be really romantic, actually!” “No, no, no,” Liam objected, voice rising on every repeat, “I’ve got Christmas morning, and that means he’s got to go now.” Not having anything to drink made it impossible for Killian to claim intoxication as a reason for the current spin rate of his head. Metaphorically, at least. Even so, he felt a little dizzy and slightly out of breath, trying very hard not to topple into the water. 

There was no way he’d be able to disentangle himself from Ariel before he did that. 

And then she’d get annoyed. 

“What is going on?” Killian demanded, pausing between each word for emphasis. Liam’s lips disappeared. Behind his teeth. 

While he failed spectacularly at containing his laugh. “We’re kicking you out,” Belle said simply, like that made sense and they hadn’t all but required his presence in Boston less than seventy-two hours earlier. 

Killian blinked. Once, twice. Half a dozen times. Nothing changed. Ariel’s arms tightened, maybe — but Liam didn’t move, and Belle’s nose still had that scrunch-like effect, and the lights on their ship really did make it appropriately festive. 

“And apologizing,” Ariel added. “We should make that more obvious.”

Blinking more was stupid. 

Talking probably would have helped. But Killian’s tongue suddenly took up far too much space in his mouth, next to all the imaginary cotton balls that were impeding his ability to breathe and it could not have been healthy for so many body parts to consistently fail like that. 

“This is really my fault,” Liam admitted, taking a step forward to clap Killian on the shoulder. His right knee bent that time. At least his reactions were symmetrical. “And I—well, I...I was so worried about the money and the party and—” “—We didn’t really think about your plans,” Belle finished. Opening his mouth, Killian genuinely could not come up with a word to describe whatever sound he made. Something between a scoff and that huff he was trying to accomplish before, but also drifting dangerously close to laughter borne of disbelief and his back actually had the gall to pop when he leaned forward. 

“I don’t have plans.” “Please,” Ariel scoffed, “you have at least the hope for plans, and that’s nice in a way that deserves a better adjective and all that rum I promise.” Liam’s eyes widened. “How much rum are we talking?” “Enough that you stop spending so much time talking about the proper light to string ratio.” “What does that even mean?” Killian balked. 

Shaking her head, Belle moved into his space as well. Both her hands landed on the front of his jacket, and Killian wasn’t exactly cold per se, but there was something inherently comforting about his sister-in-law’s smile and the way she always smelled a bit like vanilla. 

As if she were just minutes away from baking something, at all times. 

“Telling you to come here was a dick move,” Belle announced, Ariel’s head finding Killian’s shoulder when she started to cackle once more. They were all standing too close to each other. Someone was going to step on someone else’s foot. “And,” she continued, “Liam was right. This is totally his fault, but he’s running on like...no sleep, because we’re—” She grit her teeth, another unfinished sentence that frustrated Killian for about eight and half seconds. Before it all clicked at nine. “No, shit.” “Shit,” Belle confirmed, another smile and her left foot landed on Killian’s right when he pulled into a far-too-tight hug. Ariel had to move her arms. “Babies are expensive you see,” Liam said, “and we’d already funneled so much money into this, the party had to happen and I wasn’t sure if Belle was going to be able to come with me because—” “—They don’t tell you morning sickness lasts all day,” she grumbled. Killian’s laugh had an almost manic edge to it, suddenly happier than he thought he could be and that was more appropriate for the time. Of both the day and season. 

“So,” Liam added, “I kind of lost my mind about Eric, and didn’t think about you or Emma or how stupid you’d be when you weren’t around Emma at Christmas because it’s so goddamn obvious what you’re planning.”

Heat rose in Killian’s cheeks, a questionably large inferno that suddenly flared to life in the pit of his stomach. “I haven’t totally decided.” “Yeah, well that’s dumb.” “Rife with opinions tonight, aren’t you?” “We’re kicking you out,” Belle repeated. “With our apologies that I wasn’t on the ship tonight because that shrimp appetizer smell made me want to die a little.” Ariel sighed. “Do all our statements have to be so violent? There should be more positivity to all of this.” “There will be if Killian can get me my twenty bucks.” “Why are you betting on this?” he asked, but the distinct lack of frustration in his voice was obvious even to him. Belle laughed. “Because calling you a newlywed was not nearly as unbelievable as it should have been, and if you get with the program you could probably have your rehearsal dinner on one of our very accommodating ships with an appetizer that does not include shrimp.” “I’m not really a huge fan of shellfish.” “See, the perfect plan.” An objection sat on the tip of Killian’s tongue — if only because he was decidedly stubborn and now a little worried about his brother’s expanding family, but his own family was not in Boston and he’d really like Emma to be his family. In an official sort of capacity. 

“But what about—” “—No, absolutely not,” Belle cut in before Killian could finish, “that’s what we were doing. Going over the plans for tomorrow’s lunch cruise, and everything you were supposed to do, which I’m pretty confident I can do now, mostly because my husband is here and I won’t be tempted to text him the entire time.” “At least not much,” Liam quipped. The pinch between Killian’s eyebrows was going to stay there forever. If not longer. “And then I’ll also text you, at an appropriate time tomorrow, to apologize for being a massive Christmas bastard.” Hair hit Killian’s cheek. Not his. Distinctly red and smelling like shampoo she’d definitely spent far too much money on, Ariel’s hair blew around her when she threw her head back. With laughter. The catching sort, spreading like wildfire through their tiny group, until Belle had to wrap her arm around her middle to stay up, and Killian’s stomach ached just a bit and it took him a moment to realize he’d made another fire pun. 

In his head. He needed to go home. 

“Was Ariel a distraction?”

She kicked his ankle. “Rude, and yeah obviously. Liam is so goddamn overprotective with his unborn child, it’s disgusting.” “And nice,” Belle grinned. 

Exhaling, Liam tugged on the back of his hair. A tell, and an apology without the words. Killian wanted the words. Even if it took a few extra minutes. “Seriously,” Liam said, “a Christmas bastard, which is not an excuse, but—I’m sorry. For the batard’ness, and bringing you here, and not explaining the reasons behind the bastard. And also for ruining your plans.” “I really have no plans,” Killian promised, but that fell a bit flat and he at least had rather specific wants. Of the desire-type variety. 

“So fix that. Like as soon as possible.” “For my twenty bucks,” Belle said with another yank on Killian’s jacket. The poor jacket was not going to last much longer. 

Ariel rolled her eyes. “She’s obsessed with the twenty bucks.” “Because your husband will have to pay it!” “Should you have bet with an invalid?” Killian asked, trying without much immediate success to take a step away from either one of them. “And what kind of Pedialyte flavor are you forcing?” “The purple kind.” “Blue’s definitely better.” Liam looked frustrated. 

That felt like something of a victory. “Were you going to go, Killian? Or—” Kissing the top of Ariel’s hair and pulling Belle into one more hug, Killian flipped off his brother, muttered Merry Christmas, don’t sink the boat, and would never admit to running back towards his car. Or how quickly he drove home. 

It took at least twenty-six minutes to find a parking spot. 

Four blocks away. 

Still, Killian assumed he was running on holiday-fueled adrenaline and something almost resembling romance and the distinct lack of anything in his pocket was a challenge he viewed as quirky more than anything else. 

He bounded up the steps, nearly dropping his keys more than once before he managed to unlock the door only to be immediately hit in the face. With what felt suspiciously like garland. 

And Killian hadn’t really planned on spending much time in their apartment, only thinking about a few hours of sleep before driving to Mary Margaret and David’s house on the Island because he might have come up with half a list of sweepingly romantic things to do, but he wasn’t a total jerk who would show up on someone else’s doorstep in the middle of the goddamn night, and it obviously did not make a single ounce of difference. 

While he was being strangled with garland. 

Blinking against the darkness of their living room, Killian’s brain couldn’t quite come to terms with what he was seeing. Like the ninth floor of the Herald Square Macy’s had exploded. Tinsel hung from what appeared to be actual ivy, pinned along the top of the wall with startling accuracy. Lights meant to resemble icicles reflected against every window pane, and there was an actual tree in the corner. 

Every one of his inhales had a distinct pine-like scent to it, like he was standing in the middle of a forest, and Killian did not think they owned that many ornaments when he left. 

They hadn’t owned any ornaments, so it was a rather easy number to remember. 

A star was balanced precariously at the top of the tree, paper snowflakes dropping from the ceiling and—

Emma curled in the corner of the couch. 

With at least four blankets covering her. She was a notorious blanket thief. 

Mary Margaret hadn’t woken up either, twisted into the other end of the cushions, and Killian couldn’t fathom how they were comfortable, but he was also admittedly a little distracted by the desire of his lungs to keep providing oxygen to the rest of his body and David’s eyes were alarmingly wide. 

“What are you doing here?” “I live here,” Killian hissed, swatting away the garland. Bits of it fell onto the top of his sneakers. “What are you doing here?” “Helping.” “What?” “Helping,” David said slowly, like Killian simply did not understand the word and not all the meaning behind it. “She—well, the decorations left something to be desired, and you know Mary Margaret. There’s a project, so she’s got to help and—” “—Wait, wait, wait, did Emma do all this?”

Waving both his hands in the air, David didn’t bother to say obviously when the movement made it so abundantly clear. Killian’s jaw dropped. 

Something popped there as well. Which probably wasn’t what woke Emma up, but thinking that was almost nice in another way that deserve a better adjective, and the overall force of her smile as soon as her eyes landed on him made every bit of splintered heart still lingering in his chest knit itself back together. 

Immediately. 

“Should I be concerned that you’re deserting?” she asked, hooking her chin over the back of the couch. As if she’d been expecting this exact situation. Killian shook his head. “Nah, this is a wholly authorized shore leave.” David’s groan very likely hurt the inside of his throat. 

“What happened here, Swan?” Pink immediately colored her expression, every one of her teeth obvious when she grit them. Mary Margaret must have been the soundest sleeper in the Universe. Or she’d had a questionable amount of Prosecco to drink that night. “Christmas?” That was as good a reason as any, honestly. Although that stubborn streak of his ran several nautical miles wide, and nearly tripping over the garland on his few steps towards the couch made Emma’s shoulders shake. 

Killian knelt in front of her.

Step one accomplished, then. 

“It’s super lame,” Emma warned, but Killian’s heart was doing more biologically impossible things and his eyes fluttered when she brushed his hair away from his forehead. “I just—well, you weren’t here, and that kind of ruined any of my festive-type feelings, which as we all know are shaky at best.” “Work in progress, love.” Her tongue sticking between her lips was not as annoying as Ariel’s had been. Killian figured that had something to do with the desire to kiss her. And not Ariel. Who would have smacked him at even the allusion to such a thing. “Well,” Emma mumbled, “the lack of appropriate holiday spirit reared its head like—as soon as you closed the door behind you, but then I went to the party and you kept texting me and—” “—I’m sorry, I was texting you? You were texting me!” “God,” David grumbled, dropping into the only chair left in the living room. There should have been more chairs in the living room. “It’s ridiculous, the pair of you.” Killian narrowed his eyes. Glaring was too difficult. “Why are you here?” “I told you, helping.” “He did,” Emma said. “Both him and Mary Margaret, really. I, ok—well, whoever was texting who, it doesn’t really matter. Just that Ruth thinks we’re married.” Of all the ways that sentence could have ended, Killian was loath to admit hearing that David’s mother believed the same lie Liam had been spouting to Boston tourists was not one of them. 

“She does,” Emma continued, rushing over the words, “for some reason. But she kept saying how nice it was that a young couple like us was able to keep in touch when we weren’t together for the holidays and I was really kind of drunk, and even more upset that you weren’t going to be here, so my mind just kind of latched onto things and—” Pulling in a deep breath made her shoulders shift again, Killian’s eyes taking in every moment so he could commit them all to memory and the question was out of his mouth before he realized Emma was still talking. “Will you marry me?” “Do you want to get married?”

David fell out of the chair. 

Slid, technically. Directly onto the floor and next to presents that were almost perfectly wrapped with color coordinated bows on each of them. 

“What?” Killian breathed, Emma’s hand flying to her mouth. Left one, so that helped too actually. None of his fingers shook when he reached up, pulling that same hand down and kissing the bend of her knuckles. Tears clouded Emma’s eyes, falling on her cheeks faster than he could brush them away. 

With his mouth. Killian tried all the same. 

While ignoring the increasing volume of David’s rather uproarious laugh. He was texting someone. Probably Ariel, who very likely was requiring play-by-play. And had timed Killian’s drive home. 

“That was kind of...this,” Emma explained, nodding towards the living room. “I—I wanted to decorate, and make it Christmas when you got back because...well, I blame the alcohol and your brother and—” “—That’s fair, honestly. Belle’s pregnant, by the way.” “No shit.” “Shit,” Killian confirmed, a repeat he’d share later. Once they got all this engagement business sorted out. “They’re pretty incredible decorations.” “Yeah, well flattery will get you everywhere.” Huffing out a breath, Emma’s head dropped to his, and that made it easier to get his fingers in her hair. “This made a lot of sense when I was drunker. But, uh—I needed to do something with all that energy and sudden holiday thoughts and I’ve got a lot of thoughts about your face, you know that?” Ariel was going to be insufferable. 

Killian would make her buy some Moscato, too. That was Emma’s favorite. “Gave me something to do,” Emma added, “and then I figured you’d get home and there’d be some sweeping and we could do something about Ruth’s assumptions and I think we’d be really good at being married.” Kissing her was the only reasonable option. Even as David sounded like he was in physical pain. 

Surging up, Killian’s mouth all but slammed into Emma’s, tilting his head so he got to that one, perfect angle that allowed his tongue to swipe across her lips and draw that even more perfect sound out of her, and he was only dimly aware of Mary Margaret waking up. The couch creaked when she moved. 

Killian didn’t. 

His fingers carded through Emma’s hair, only breaking apart to appease his lungs and the requirements of his body before kissing her again, and his knees kind of ached. Presumably from supporting most of their collective weight when Emma was kind of draped across him. “Don’t go in the bedroom, ok?” Humming against her only guaranteed David made another noise of protest, but it was nice that they’d helped decorate and Killian could only imagine how they’d gotten all that ivy on the wall. 

“That’s, uh—” Emma leaned back, one of her eyes squeezed closed. “Where we put all the extra non-holiday stuff, and it’s kind of a disaster.”

“Tore up the apartment, like she had separation anxiety,” Mary Margaret slurred, and Killian refused to be held accountable for whatever his face did at that. 

David rolled his whole head. Emma shrugged. He liked that one the best. “So, uh—” “Yeah,” Killian finished, before he could stop himself and any qualms either one of them had once had about clingy relationships or relationship qualifiers appeared to disappear before their eyes. Like frost on the window. Which was seasonally appropriate. “I think we’d be really good at marriage.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Where’d you get the decorations from, though?” “You’re welcome,” Mary Margaret replied, sounding a bit more coherent and just as exhausted. That was fair. It was close to four in the morning. 

Emma nodded. “Definite separation anxiety. So we should probably not do this again, and then you can help decorate.” “Deal,” Killian promised, and they didn’t bother waiting for an appropriate time to call Liam. Or Ariel, who crowded into the video call because, as she claimed, it was her living room and her twenty bucks and her shriek probably affected the structural integrity of her house. 

The rum showed up two days later. 

And made for a very good toast, as soon Killian slipped the ring onto Emma’s finger. They picked it out together. 

[jamespotterthefirst]

Fake Husband: Part II

The Reckoning

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,600 Warning: Some adult language Premise: Ethan pretends to be her husband again to spite her insistent ex. Part 2 of  Fake Husband Author’s Note: Seriously guys, the fake dating trope owns me

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The frivolous, over-embellished ballroom was alive with laughter, conversation, and music. He watched with disgust as Boston's elite congregated in clusters, clad in expensive formal wear, champagne flutes in hand. Their ambitious smiles were just as false as their interest in the charities rallying for funds that night. It made him sick.

Ethan took a long gulp of his scotch. Why had he let Naveen bully him into attending the scene of his worst nightmare?

Instinctively, his eyes swiveled to meet hers from across the ballroom. Eyes sparkling even from a distance, she gave him a radiant and characteristically coy smile.

That was why.

Ethan forced his eyes away when he realized he was staring, his throat suddenly dry.

How could he not stare? The deadly combination of a shimmering black dress, dark hair that rippled in waves past her bare shoulders, and a delicate, crimson mouth made her look like a siren who could bring any man to his knees. By the interested glances she was attracting, many present would be willing to let her, Ethan included.

Privately, he made it his purpose to go twenty minutes without seeking her out.

He only managed ten.

By the time his eyes scanned the crowded ballroom again, desperate in their search, she was nowhere to be found.

It was no surprise he found her ten minutes later through the massive arched doors leading to a balcony. What was surprising, however, was that she was not alone. From where he stood, he could see the figure of a man that struck a sense of familiarity.  

“I can't stop thinking about you, Lilac,” he was saying. “I don’t think I ever stopped thinking about you.”

With a flash of shock, he recognized him as Lilac’s ex boyfriend, the one who had been wearing a ridiculous turquoise suit on their last meeting. Briefly, Ethan marveled at how his fashion choices remained as deplorable as before. He was wearing a wine colored tuxedo made of velvet.

What a prick.

Lilac was unmoved, her gaze cold as she watched him with disinterest.

It did not deter him. “Do you think about me?”

Ethan’s jaw tensed, clenched fists at his sides longing to connect with his pathetic face.

Lilac, on the other hand, did a better job at remaining composed. Her beautiful, crimson lips remained set in an inscrutable line. “Yes, I think about you sometimes, Alex,” she allowed, voice low.  

Ethan’s heart plummeted.

Then, with a vehemence that could strike a man down, she continued, “I think about how much time I wasted feeling something you did was somehow my fault.”

Velvet's shoulders tensed, the words no doubt a blow.

“All of that was a mistake,” he countered in what he, no doubt, considered a reasonable tone. “I never should've–”

“Slept with my best friend?”

“I regret that every day.”

“Which part? Sleeping with her or getting caught and facing consequences for once in your privileged life?”

Goddamn, Rookie.

She pulled no punches. A swell of pride burst in Ethan’s chest.

“In a way, you did me a favor,” Lilac went on mercilessly. “I never would've been free to fall in love with Ethan if you hadn't shown what a bastard you are.”

Love. Ethan clung to the word, enjoying the sound of it when paired with his name, when uttered so fiercely by her lovely lips. It almost made him forget it was part of the act they fabricated to spite him.

The bastard in question watched her with quiet fury, all pretense of politeness or faux charm vanished. “Who are you kidding, Lilac?” he proclaimed with a humorless laugh. “This husband of yours? You can't honestly believe that's love instead of some schoolgirl celebrity crush–”

He never finished his sentence because her hand flew up to slap him, the crack of her hand against his cheek so loud, Ethan was surprised the ballroom missed it.

“Don't seek me out again,” she said coldly.

She moved to sidestep him, but he was quicker, blocking her path with his body.

“Let me go,” she warned, her eyes boring into him.

She attempted her escape again, and his hands moved to stop her. “Lilac–”

“That's my wife you’re about to put your hands on,” Ethan said, his voice dangerously low as he stepped from the shadows, ears buzzing with rage. “And if you wish to keep them attached to your worthless body, you'll rethink that choice.”

They both glanced up at him, Lilac with relief and her ex with irritation. The latter seemed to consider challenging the threat, but his eyes coolly assessed Ethan’s imposing height, broad shoulders, and balled fists.

Hands dropping to his sides, he fixed Ethan with a harsh glare instead. “We’re just talking. No need to get defensive, pal.”

At the word pal, Ethan moved purposefully toward him, fist ready to deck him. Lilac, however, quickly impeded his path, a gentle hand on Ethan's chest.

“He's not worth it,” she told him in a soft whisper. When Ethan relaxed slightly under her touch, she fixed a glare at her ex. “You should go.”

Velvet looked like he wanted to say something else but didn't dare to in front of the man he believed was her husband. After a moment of hesitation, furious glare locked on Ethan, he wordlessly stormed off, disappearing into the crowd of the ballroom.

Once alone, Ethan glanced down at her, taking in her pale face and at once feeling his expression soften. “Are you okay?”

Lilac nodded quietly. “I'm okay,” she assured him.

“How the fuck was he here?”

She watched him with a troubled expression. “I came out to get some fresh air,” she explained quickly. “He followed me. I didn't even know he was at this thing. Apparently, his law firm is a sponsor and–”

The words blurred together in her rush to explain. When she broke off to catch a breath, Ethan shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that, Lilac,” he assured her gently. “This wasn’t your fault. You don't have to explain anything to me.”

Lilac looked uncertain.

“Seriously, Lilac, fuck that guy. Don't let him ruin your evening,” he said, impassioned.

A tentative smile followed by a deep sigh. “This evening wasn't that great to begin with,” she confessed, voice laced with hints of her usual carefree tone. “Rich people are so insufferable and spectacularly boring.”

Ethan allowed himself to look impressed, his face relaxing into a laugh. “Couldn't have said it better myself.”

There was a small silence in which neither moved away from the other. A soft breeze rustled her hair, making her shiver slightly. Without a word, he removed his tuxedo jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders.

“Thank you,” she murmured, pulling it closer around herself. The gesture, small and seemingly insignificant, sent a wave of warmth through his chest that neither science nor logic could explain.

They were standing mere inches apart, the sounds of the ballroom distant and muted. All Ethan could hear was the thunderous beat of his heartbeat. He wondered if she could hear it too.

Unable to stop himself, his hand moved to caress her cheek, calloused thumb moving delicately over the ridge of her cheekbone. Briefly, Lilac closed her eyes, her own hand resting atop his.

They moved closer to each other still, so close that Ethan could see the cluster of freckles that dusted her nose. When she opened her eyes, her gaze descended to his lips.

It was all it took to shatter the fragile fragments of his resolve.

“Kiss me,” he instructed in a feather-light whisper.

Lilac obeyed, closing the distance and pressing her soft lips to his in a small, fleeting kiss. Ethan’s hand moved to her waist, but abruptly, she broke apart, eyes moving up to meet his. “Is he still watching?” she asked, breathless. Biting her red lip, she added, “You don't have to keep pretending if you don’t–”

“I don't give a damn about him,” Ethan hissed, thoroughly intoxicated by even the briefest of her kisses. “I'm through pretending.”

Untamed yearning pulsing through him, he roughly pulled her to him, their lips reuniting hungrily. In seconds, Lilac’s maddening mouth moved fluidly against Ethan’s, opening compliantly at his silent command. Her hands trailed down the front of his jacket, their warmth palpable even through the fabric, threatening to consume him whole.

Weeks of resisting her proved futile then. His body remembered hers dutifully, his hands gripping her hips to bring her closer still. This was foolishly unnecessary for Lilac urgently arched against him, sending his body into a frenzy.

“Ethan,” she panted, the delicious sound lost against his lips.

The scent of her flowery perfume mixed with the cologne of his jacket and Ethan found it so enticing that he forgot where they stood. Invigorated, his tongue pushed against hers, the small moan this provoked vibrating against his mouth. She retaliated with as much keenness, tilting her head to one side to deepen their kiss.

Ethan groaned.

Neither had the will to separate, their shared breath ragged.

At last, it simmered down to a string of small kisses. Every part of his body screamed at him to resume, his pulse a thundering storm. “Want to leave?” he asked her, pressing a hot kiss to her jaw.

“Desperately,” she sighed, the sound so provocative that it robbed him of his control.

Ethan kissed her again, fiercely, his need for her unquenchable. A small gasp erupted from her mouth as his teeth grazed her bottom lip, the tip of his tongue tracing a soothing line immediately after.

“Unfair,” she said in a heady whisper.

He laughed against her neck. “Have you seen yourself, Rookie?”

Lilac’s eyes fell to his lips again. She grinned up at him, ethereal in the moonlight.

“My lipstick’s all over your mouth,” she said, wrinkling her nose slightly. So gently it was utterly captivating, she moved her thumb over his lips. “Looks better on me,” she taunted.

Ethan, completely entranced, smiled. “Undoubtedly.”

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Prompt(s): sent by @caseyvalentineramsey​

2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss. 3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond. 9. A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths. 15. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

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Author’s note: THANK YOU for reading!

Also, I just realized this is too similar to Kelsey’s new fic. It was unintentional but you guys should know we’re like twins so it’s not surprise.

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Tags:  @openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @noboundariesplease​ | @silverlitskies​ | @the-soot-sprite | @infinitiestones | @emotionalswift2 | @flyawayboo |  @paulfwesley | @hatescapsicum ​| @myusualnerdyself | @thatysn​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​ | @chasingrobbie​ | @trappedinfandoms​ |  @togetherwearerapture | @nooruleman​ | @caseyvalentineramsey​ | @axwalker​ | @parkerattano​ | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ | @kaavyaethanramsey | @edith-eggs1​ | @binny1985​ | @sanchita012​ | @lion-ess24 | @drethanramslay​ | @longneckramsey | @choices-lurker | @mvalentine | @axwalker | @jens-diamondchoices | @tefigranger | @ethanrcmsey |

(I forgot people, I know it. Please remind me because I’m a messy bitch who can’t keep track of her life).

[camillemontespan]

writing camille montespan and the problem with the TRR MC

Basically, an opinion piece about the TRR MC and a short essay on Camille Montespan. Feel free to add your own opinions and maybe write your own about your MC/OC!

@moonlightgem7 @jovialyouthmusic @ibldw-main @katedrakeohd @pug-bitch @saivilo @argylemnwrites @rainbowsinthestorm @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gardeningourmet @princessleac1  @axwalker​  @mskaneko​  @emichelle​   ***************

Can we all agree that the TRR MC is slightly flawed? And perhaps a little annoying? And a hot mess with no idea of how to fit into the nobility?  Who basically improvises everything she does while stringing the King of Cordonia along (if he isn’t your LI) and solves every problem with a trip to the boutique or attending a ball?

TRR MC is not the best MC in the Choices universe and that is a hill I am willing to die on.

That’s where fanfic comes in. During my year and a half in this fandom, I’ve discovered mutuals who write stories about the TRR MC that puts the actual Choices writers to shame. MCs are fleshed out with proper back stories. The ridiculous canon story that a waitress from New York finds herself in a suitor competition in a European country - a country she’s never heard of because clearly she’s not informed on geography- is still incorporated into fics but it’s given more of a realistic twist. We are aware of how stupid the actual storyline is and so we try our best to make the best of it. Sometimes, we write AUs to fix the shit that the TRR writers have made a reality. AUs are the best.

As my writing has developed, I’ve found that I’ve created my own universe for Camille, my TRR MC. In my very first fic, This Heavy Crown, I focused more on the suitor competition and stuck to canon moments because I didn’t know you could write AUs. It was very angsty. But I found it so fun to write Camille and the fanfic writing obsession began.

Fun fact about Camille: she is actually descended from nobility. Madame de Montespan was a real life noble of Louis XIV’s court - she was his mistress. I thought it would  be fun to name Camille after Madame de Montespan because how ironic would it be to have the American commoner turn out to be more regal than fucking Madeline?!

Anyway back to my writing.

Now, I tend to write AUs that have more realistic plots. My favourite series that I’ve written has been The History of Us and I will tell you why.

MY FAVOURITE CAMILLE SERIES

The History of Us (the first chapter is missing, sadly) is where Camille becomes more than just the Duchess of Valtoria. As I wrote her, she became more of a person - which sounds ridiculous but I think my fellow writers will understand due to their own writing of their MCs! 

The History of Us is still set in Cordonia and Camille and Drake are Duchess and Duke. But that is where canon stops. My own head canons grew and became, to me, actual canon for Camille and Drake. 

In the fic, Camille takes their daughter, Lily, and leaves the family home, clearly upset with Drake. Before she goes, she gives Drake a box and tells him to go through its contents before making any contact with her. The mystery in the opening chapter is WHY is Camille leaving? All of my readers were asking ‘what did Drake do?!’ and you eventually find out as the series develops.

In a nutshell, Drake struggles to adapt to his new role as Duke (something I found the Choices writers never attempted aside from his awkward ‘things are great!’ joke). He is a fish out of water and longs for life to be normal. While Camille has flourished in her role, Drake hasn’t and the pressure gets to him. With constant media attention, Drake feels claustrophobic and so turns to alcohol to numb himself. As a result, he isolates himself from his family and Camille is left trying to hold the ship together. 

It was a challenging fic to write but I had so much fun writing more of Camille. She isn’t perfect and that is what I wanted to show. She fucks up. For the first chapters, she is very much of the idea that they present their best faces to the world and keep up their duty to Valtoria. Her Duchess hat is firmly on her head. A few of my readers were screaming in the comments that she needed to get her family out of Cordonia. I agreed with them but I knew that to make Camille realise her mistakes, she had to be stubborn and actually.. Wrong. But, as things with Drake get worse, Camille forces herself to confront what is truly important and she starts to fight for her marriage and her husband’s health.

CAMILLE IN A NUTSHELL

‘Wife and mother first, Duchess second.’ That is Camille’s motto and is something that is echoed in all of my fics. She is a fierce woman who fights Drake’s corner and the loves of her life are her family. The more confident she becomes as Duchess, the more willing she is to stick up for herself and her family. When they make decisions based on their children -eg. Sending them to a ‘normal’ school so they can mix with commoners - the nobility are outraged. But does Camille care? No. She is a lion mama who wants the best for her kids. She doesn’t want Lily and Luna to turn into stuck up rich girls. She wants them to stay grounded. 

Unlike in canon when Drake and MC go to Texas and are stuck there against their will (or was it us, the players, who were stuck there against our will?), I write that Drake and Camille visit Texas every summer. It’s a slice of normality for them and they love it there. It’s where Camille can just be Camille. When Camille isn’t a Duchess, she can be more relaxed. She goofs around and plays with her daughters. She wears more casual clothes and drinks whiskey. She is the Camille that Drake fell in love with, not that he doesn’t love her when she’s a Duchess! It’s just that the Duchess Camille is a more refined version and how polished and elegant she can be scares him sometimes, while also making him feel in awe of her. This is a woman who entered Cordonian nobility without any experience and actually listened to advice and worked hard to adapt (something TRR MC does not). Basically, Camille has two sides to her, the Duchess and the commoner, and she strikes a neat balance between the two.

I base the foundation of her character on her face claim, Meghan Markle. I find it funny when mutuals have told me in the past that when they see Meghan on TV or in magazines, they’re like ‘oh it’s Camille!’ 

Why have Meghan as an FC? Well, I feel she resembles my TRR MC closely, plus Meghan was literally an American commoner who found herself marrying into royalty. 

What I love about Meghan is how keen she is to make a difference. She threw herself into royal duties when she married Prince Harry and, like Diana before her, she made a huge impression on the people she met. I’m sad that she and Harry left their roles as Meghan had so much potential. 

So, Camille basically does the stuff that I think Meghan would do if she was still a working royal. 

Camille is a feminist who works to promote women’s equality in the workplace. She wants Cordonia to modernise (something lacking under Constantine’s rule) and now that Liam is King, that dream will become a reality. She imagines a future for her daughters where they can have any job they want and be whoever they want to be; the sky is the limit. Everything she does is for her daughters.

Despite wanting Cordonia to modernise, Camille is also respectful of their history. In my head canon, Drake and Camille discover that Valtoria used to hold Open Houses. An open house is when the people of Valtoria can visit the Duke and Duchess and talk to them about issues within the duchy. Open houses hadn’t been a thing for 200 years but when Camille and Drake discovered this old piece of history, they reintroduced the concept. Basically, Camille wants to use her platform for good - something which the TRR MC is lacking. All TRR MC does is go to balls and act like an idiot! Where is the responsibility? Where is the interest in learning more about the duchy? Why is she never at her duchy?! 

If you want to read more of Camille, I point you to the interview I wrote of her. I love writing interviews as they are like a character study and it’s so fun to delve into the personality. Writing this interview was a joy. The words flowed and I was so pleased with how it turned out. It’s the definitive piece about Camille and who she is.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 12: Forward

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4800

Rating: PG (language only)

Summary: Two weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: I’m back! And I hope to stay back and posting! It’s been a while since the last chapter, so as a quick refresher - Hana has been named Duchess of Valtoria by King-Regent Rashad, Amalas was somehow able to track down the Walkers in Xanthi, Greece (and wants to turn that knowledge into an alliance), and the Walkers are heading onto Athens as their options for survival as fugitives are not looking great.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Hana glanced around the palace ballroom, taking in the groups of people milling about the room. In so many ways, tonight was just like any other ball or gala. How many events had she been to in this room over the past three years, with mostly the same guests, the same food, and the same music? But tonight was different. Not only was this ball being thrown in her honor, welcoming her as Cordonia’s newest duchess, but it was the first event she’d attended without Riley by her side. Since that opening masquerade ball of Liam’s social season, they’d always been together for every formal event. But not tonight. Tonight, she was back to doing things on her own.

She stood over towards the front of the room, greeting the last of the nobility and well wishers. Soon, the dancing would start. It was strange how everything felt routine and totally different at the same time. She supposed that when Rashad gave a speech acknowledging her new title, things would really seem different. But for now, it was just a weird mix of emotions she was trying so hard to keep at bay as she shook hand after hand, nodded politely over and over again, and kept a gentle smile locked in place.

“Congratulations!” Penelope squealed, scurrying across the ballroom and throwing her arms around Hana, “This is so exciting! Isn’t it exciting, Zeke?”

Ezekiel nodded briskly and gave Hana a small little smile as he held out his right hand for her to shake, “Yes. Congratulations, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Hana replied, giving a nod that she hoped conveyed the right blend of gratitude and authority. She needed her first appearance as a duchess to go well for many reasons.

She knew intellectually that her appointment as the Duchess of Valtoria was a desperation move from Rashad. His first week and a half as king-regent had been far from smooth and calm. The groups of protesters in front of the palace had grown in number every day, the citizens of Lythikos were organizing, and the unrest in Valtoria was spilling into neighboring lands. Rashad had needed to do something, but as a temporary leader, making changes that were too aggressive would be poorly received and could possibly worsen the protesting. He had to walk a very fine line, and presenting Hana as a new regional leader looked like he was taking action without actually requiring him to stick his neck out and take a stand. For someone who hated courtly politics, his maneuver was pretty brilliant.

But because of the fact that her appointment to duchess was done by an interim leader, Hana knew she would be subjected to increased scrutiny. Not just from Barthelemy’s allies, who would likely object to the title going to someone with known close ties to the Walkers and to Liam, but also from Liam’s supporters, who were likely to object to any use of the powers of the monarch by Rashad, someone they considered an illegitimate king-regent. Part of her worried that she was being set up to fail, albeit unintentionally.

Still, she knew she was ready for this. She had prepared her whole life to hold a title at this level. She had trained and studied and practiced for years. This was the job she had been preparing for since she was a child. Granted, she had been taught that she would rise to this title through marriage, was told that her job would be to be a diplomat behind the scenes, supporting a husband in his role. But the concept was the same, even though this title was hers and hers alone. And maybe it was crazy and naive, but there was a part of Hana that felt proud. Someone had seen her talents and skills and contributions to Valtoria and decided to recognize them. No, to recognize her.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Given the method of her appointment, she was likely going to need to prove herself over and over again. Her mother had seen fit to remind her of that twice already this evening, as if that wasn’t already running through her brain constantly. If she was even a mediocre duchess, so many would get hurt. Rashad would find it difficult to gain any support to make any decisions if his first major one proved to be a poor choice. Liam’s bid to reclaim the throne would be damaged if one of his known close associates was an unpopular and ineffective duchess. And probably most importantly, the people of Valtoria deserved some stability and support in a time of national upheaval.

As much as Hana felt for Riley and Drake and understood why they made the choices they did for their family, she also felt for the citizens of Valtoria acutely. They didn’t ask to have their duchess and duke abandon them, did nothing to deserve this degree of political instability. Of course, that could probably be said for all the citizens of Cordonia. A power struggle amongst the nobility had triggered the loss of the country’s heir to the throne and a power vacuum that was going to leave them without stable national leadership for months. The whole thing made her feel almost ill to think about, but all she could do at this point was do her best to serve Valtoria and it’s citizens with her whole heart and mind.

“How are you doing, Hana Banana?” Maxwell’s hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her moment of introspection. She gave him a smile, accepting the glass of champagne he offered her and tapping it lightly against his.

“Tonight has been… a lot,” she said after taking a sip of her drink.

“Tell me about it. It feels like it was just yesterday that we were here for Riley’s ball, naming her the Duchess of Valtoria.”

Hana hummed lightly at that, and suddenly, Maxwell was rambling.

“Not that you took it from her or don’t deserve the title or anything! Because you absolutely do! Like, you are so wise and smart and crazy talented and -”

“-Maxwell, I know what you meant. I was just thinking about how I could do without a recreation of the end of that night.”

“Oh. Yeah. Me too. To be fair, I don’t think my dad’s hired a bunch of assassins. Of course, I didn’t think he was plotting a coup underneath my nose either, soooo…” Maxwell trailed off with a little shrug.

Hana glanced over, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “I feel like we haven’t had much of a chance to talk. How are you doing with everything?”

He shrugged again and took a sip of his champagne. “Yeah, I haven’t been able to get away from Ramsford really at all this week. Bertrand is losing his mind prepping for Dad’s inevitable attempt to forcibly retake his title. He’s hunkered down in the west wing, while Dad’s taken the east. Bertrand’s already fired about one third of the staff because he’s caught them over on Dad’s side for no good reason, so Dad’s taken to firing staff he’s sure are loyal to Bertrand in retaliation. Soon, it’ll just be the three of us. Actually, the five of us. Savannah and Bartie get back tomorrow.”

“Have you decided whether to give her Drake’s number yet?” Hana asked, making sure she kept her voice low. Ever since Savannah had booked the tickets back for her and Bartie, there had been a bit of a debate over whether or not she should receive a burner phone and be told how to get in touch with her brother. Olivia firmly believed there were already too many people who knew, whereas Maxwell brought up that it was wrong to prevent her from talking to her brother when she was only coming back to Cordonia earlier than planned to help Bertrand fight his father’s bid to reclaim the title of Duke of Ramsford. He insisted that meant she had already proven herself a trusted ally, while Olivia remained unconvinced. Both Hana and Liam had taken a more neutral stance on the matter, but he had expressed to her that he didn’t think it boded well for them that their group was already facing such strong differences of opinion. Quite frankly, it was a significant sticking point that felt like it could implode at any moment.

Maxwell shook his head. “Not right away at least. Bertrand honestly is so engrossed with trying to align support for his claim to our head of house title that I don’t think he’s even realized we’re in contact with Drake and Riley at this point. When I talked to Savannah, she was pretty worried about him, so I don’t think she’d want to risk hurting his chances by talking to known ‘traitors and fugitives’ at this point.”

All of it just made Hana sad. More families torn apart by this scheme, more pain and paranoia in all of their lives. “Well, that will make Olivia happy at least.”

“One can only hope. She’s been in fine form lately.”

He wasn’t wrong. It seemed like Olivia’s small reserve of patience was used up on dealing with Liam and Leo. She hadn’t lashed out at Hana yet, but the only thing Hana had done to annoy her was arrange that meeting with Kiara, and all was quickly forgiven when Hana told her she had fostered a line of communication on that front. Maxwell, on the other hand, seemed to annoy her regularly even at baseline.

“She just has a lot on her plate, Maxwell.”

“I know, I know. But that shouldn’t give her the right to take it out on us.”

“It doesn’t, but right now I think we are all just trying to hang on and hope for the best we can.”

“Yeah, well here’s hoping for better soon.” And with that he clinked his glass against hers yet again. “Speaking of better, do you need me to cause a distraction so you can sneak out and chat with Kiara?”

She shook her head. “No, Hakim is officially representing their family tonight. She texted me that he is on high alert and that it would be too risky for us to meet tonight. She’s coming alone next week.”

“Ahh, for social season kickoff, take two?”

“Yes, so I should be able to speak to her then.”

“What do you think her endgame is? Or Hakim’s?”

Hana tilted her head to the side and let out a small sigh. She’d speculated endlessly for the past week, ever since her meeting with Kiara, but every idea felt just as improbable as the one before it. “I honestly don’t have a clue, Maxwell.”

“That’s alright, even you are allowed to not know the answers every once in a while,” he said, winking at her. “Now, come on. We’ve been moping here for too long. Tonight is your night, Hana! So what do you say? Dancing? More drinks? Grab some food? Or did I hear someone suggest dancing?”

She smiled, grateful that Maxwell understood the power of a morale boost and proud that he was still able to cheer up those around him, even as his family was falling apart before his eyes. “Maxwell, would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

“Why, Your Grace, it would be my honor,” he replied with a flourish, grabbing her champagne flute and placing both their glasses on an empty tray before accompanying her onto the dance floor.

As they settled into the rhythm of the song, Hana gave Maxwell’s hand a friendly squeeze. “Thank you, Maxwell.”

“For what?”

“For still being you.”

He beamed brightly at that. “Same to you, Hana. Definitely same to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liam stood off to the side of the ballroom, nursing a glass of water. It was his first public appearance in about a week and a half, and even though he had never had a problem handling his liquor, the last thing he needed tonight was to have his judgement at all altered or impaired. This whole evening was going to be stressful enough without having to worry about imbibing just a little too heavily.

He knew it was important for him to be here. He needed to be seen again, to show strength and resilience and fortitude to any who might doubt him. Additionally, Hana was one of his dearest friends, and he wanted to be present to support and celebrate her. This night was key for a variety of reasons. 

However, that didn't change the fact that tonight was just plain hard. He was surrounded by people he knew he could no longer trust. How many of them were plotting against him at this very moment? Were whispering how pleased they were about recent events over their drinks? Were watching him closely, latching onto any change of his expression as a sign of his suffering?

Other than Olivia, Leo, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand, people seemed to be steering clear of Liam tonight. It was clear they had no concept of how to handle interacting with him at this point. His circumstances were fairly unprecedented. Sure Leo had abdicated, but that had been his choice and he hadn't been the reigning monarch when he made that decision. Additionally, he had left the country for months after his abdication. But Liam was still here, in the heart of it all, after being stripped of the crown.

He wasn't used to having so much time to himself, both at formal events such as tonight's ball, and just in general. In the simplest sense of the word, he was unemployed. And while some, such as Leo, seemed to thrive without the pressure and responsibility that came from having professional duties, Liam was finding he didn't much like having… well, nothing. He had no career, no obligations, no partner, no children. He just… was. He existed.

He knew he needed to shake off this attitude. The social season would be officially, finally, starting in one week, and he needed to hit the ground running. He was essentially going to be campaigning for many months. The issue was that he had no desire to campaign. He had been born into his role and raised to serve Cordonia's people since he was a child. He wasn't supposed to have to fight to even have a chance to put that training to use.

Taking another sip of his water, he leaned against the bar, just watching as the rest of the nobility talked and laughed and enjoyed themselves. If he had opted for whiskey instead of water, he would have been doing a good Drake impression. Well, a Drake-of-several-years-ago impression. Ever since Bridget's birth, or maybe even Riley's pregnancy, Drake had been much more engaged at events like this one. Now that he had more time to contemplate that fact, he wondered how much of that came from Drake's own personal growth and opening up and how much of it was forced on him by the nature of Bridget being named heir to the throne. 

He scanned the room slowly,  his eyes eventually settling on Olivia dancing with his brother. She was wearing a grey dress, not a red one for once. He supposed that was a testament to how much she had come to respect Hana over the years - she had decided to forego her signature color and instead wore a less eye-catching one so that Hana could own the spotlight on her night. Eventually, the song came to an end. Liam watched as she laughed and rolled her eyes at something Leo said before stepping off to the side and making her way over to the bar. She slid up next to him, requesting a glass of Bordeaux before she turned to talk to him.

“So, how are you… uh, doing?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her awkward attempt at emotional comfort. She was trying, had been trying for days, in fact. But Olivia was just not well suited for gentle emotional soothing. Tough love was much more in her wheelhouse. It was nearly disconcerting that she wasn’t using tough love, he realized. He must not be coping as well as he wanted to be if this was the approach she was taking.

“I will admit that it is strange to be back here without my title. Coming to an event here, not hosting an event here is even more unsettling than I thought it would be. Of course that could be in part due to the fact that the exact same menu, music, and decor that was used for Riley’s ball welcoming her to the nobility is on display.”

“Did your assistant not think it might be wise to change it up at all?” she asked as she accepted her glass of wine from the bartender with a nod. 

“I’m guessing Rashad didn’t care to make any changes, and Stefan isn’t exactly motivated to enhance the perception of Rashad as a leader. After all, he stayed on to help him at my request.”

“Touché.” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Of course, this Duchess of Valtoria seems far less likely to leave her citizens and her country in a lunch by fleeing and abandoning her post.” Liam regretted the words as soon as he said them. The look Olivia was giving him was an unbearable mixture of pity and frustration. “Sorry, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“Liam…”

“Okay, I might have kind of meant it, but I don’t want to mean it. I am trying not to mean it. At the very least, it wasn’t something I should have said aloud.”

She paused for just a moment, running her bright red nails along the side of her wine glass before responding, “Maybe it would be helpful to frame your frustrations with those two differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, instead of being mad as hell that Riley didn’t take her responsibilities to Cordonia seriously, maybe be more frustrated that someone as impulsive as her took on all those responsibilities knowing she would never be able to stay true to them. It makes the whole thing seem a little more abstract and annoying, less personal and infuriating. At least, it does for me.”

He frowned at that. Her strategy was an interesting one, but he wasn’t sure it was going to help with the storm of emotions he was trying to keep locked away tonight. “I’m not saying you are wrong, but Olivia, the only reason she carried that title was because I offered it to her.”

“She could have turned it down. Don’t put this on yourself.”

Liam didn’t know if that was exactly a fair assessment. Of course Riley could have rejected his offer of the duchy, just like Drake and her could have turned down his request to name their child heir to the throne. But he had been the one who decided that she was a good fit to be Duchess of Valtoria, that they were good options to raise the next King or Queen of Cordonia. With the benefit of hindsight, those decisions looked terrible, so wildly ill-conceived and poorly executed. How had he convinced himself that both those choices had been for the best?

He’d been so focused on being a compassionate, trusting king. He hadn’t wanted to turn into his father, cold and calculating, seeing enemies around every corner. But maybe he had swung the pendulum too far in the opposite direction and become overly trusting and complacent. Would anyone else in his position have made the choices he made? More often than not these, he doubted that many of his decisions as king were sound.

His silence must have made Olivia uncomfortable, because she wrapped a hand around his wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Liam, come on. Forget I said anything. You know I’m not great at the whole pep talk, emotional support thing. It was probably bad advice.”

Liam shook his head, feeling a sad sort of smile tug across his face, almost against his will. “No, I think it was good advice, Liv. It just has given me a lot to think about.”

“Liam…”

“I’m fine. I just am going to take a walk and clear my head.” With that, Liam set down his empty glass of water and turned around, walking out towards the doors and into his mother’s gardens. He knew he needed to be moving forward, not dwelling on the past like he was at the moment. The social season was only a week away, and with it came his bid to reclaim his title. Still, it was hard to be energized and optimistic about that prospect when all his failures and shortcomings seemed more numerous and prominent than they had ever been in the past. Or maybe he was simply more aware of them at this point. Either way, he couldn’t help but question how he was going to convince other nobles that he deserved the crown when he barely felt like he could convince himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Riley tensed as she heard the door creak open. Even though she was expecting Drake back around this time, she still half expected it to be Greek authorities, Montoressan spies, or Cordonian agents bursting through the door of their hotel room, ready to arrest her and take her baby away.

But it was Drake on the other side of the door. She let out a little sigh of relief when she saw his face. He, on the other hand, frowned. “What are you still doing up?” he asked as he closed and locked the door behind him. He kept his voice quiet, clearly not wanting to wake up Bridget.

Riley just shrugged. The truth was that whenever Drake went out, she was scared. Scared that he would be found and picked up and extradited back to Cordonia. Scared that she would be left alone in a country where she didn’t speak the language with a 10 month old baby. Scared that her family was going to be torn apart. But she couldn’t tell that to Drake, not when he was the only thing keeping them afloat. She knew him. He was already carrying enough stress without having to soothe her panicked and frazzled nerves every time he left to go earn them a little cash.

They had been in Athens about a week now, but Riley and Bridget had not left the hotel since they checked in. Bridget seemed to have resigned herself to the fact that her life now did not extend beyond these four walls and was usually content to play with her blocks or to listen to Riley read her the same three picture books over and over, which was both a blessing and mad depressing. Drake, however, had been venturing out daily, looking for places that would hire him under the table, without checking his ID or anything that might get them caught. She’d had to coach him on how to find these jobs, having looked for cash paying jobs many times when she needed to make rent back in New York. In some respects, it might have been better for her to be the one to go out job hunting since she had more experience, but they’d decided she was way more recognizable than Drake, particularly now that he had grown a beard to make facial recognition harder. Her inability to speak more than eight Greek phrases also clearly made Drake the better option.

He hadn’t had any luck the first four days, but then he found a restaurant owner who was willing to pay him straight cash every night to work as a dishwasher. Sure, the hourly pay was garbage and he didn’t get home until very late, but he also got to bring home leftovers every night, which meant that they had to spend less money on food. At this point, even slowing their bleeding of their minimal money supply was essential, particularly since the social season hadn’t even started yet, which meant that the earliest the Conclave could happen would be almost six months from now. Riley honestly didn’t know how they were going to feed themselves for that long, much less find shelter in the winter.

It’s not like Riley had never known poverty or living paycheck to paycheck before. But doing it now, with her baby girl, just felt so much more draining and awful. Bridget was just a kid, she didn’t ask for any of this, and she definitely didn’t deserve to suffer. But there was little Riley could do to make things better other than try and keep things happy and joyful when they were playing. Drake was doing everything else.

He handed her a bag of food before stripping out of his shirt and going to wash it in the bathroom. She peeked inside, seeing some dolmadakia, some bread, and some sort of chicken. A decent variety tonight. Trying not to rustle the bag too loudly, she pulled out some of the food and started eating, making sure to take less than half. She was sure Drake was lying when he told her he didn’t need much because he ate at the restaurant. She’d worked enough shitty, under the table jobs in her time to know that eating while on the clock was the quickest way to get yourself fired.

“So,” Drake said as he came out of the bathroom, taking off his pants and folding them neatly before climbing into the other side of the bed. “Olivia texted me while I was at work. She has a possible plan to get us our passports and some money, but she wanted to run it by us first.”

Riley knew her eyebrows had practically shot up to her forehead as she took in his statement. She handed him the bag with the rest of the food, turning onto her side to face him fully. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, Leo’s been back in Cordonia since we… uh… left. But he’s planning to take off before the social season kicks off.”

“Okay?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to spend a few days in Athens, taking in nightlife and clubs, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Riley wasn’t sure what to make of that. She always found Leo friendly and easy to talk to, but she’d heard enough stories to know that he was exactly the most responsible man on the planet. “You know Leo better than me, Drake. Is this a good idea?”

Drake let out a long breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he answered, “I don’t know, Walker. Him being here would not raise too many alarm bells, but he sometimes can draw the attention of the paparazzi - the “Party Prince” is usually good for a scandal or two, that sort of shit. And uhh, well… let’s just say I would count on him being an hour late if we went to meet him somewhere.”

“So not exactly your first choice to hold on to our passports then?”

“Not so much, no.”

Riley chewed on her lip for just a moment, her hand gently running over the back of Bridget’s head. She was sound asleep, nestled on the bed between them. Even though this hotel had a crib for them to use, Riley just couldn’t bring herself to fall asleep without her daughter right next to her. “We don’t really have a choice, do we?”

Drake shook his head. “We need money, Riley. Badly. I don’t know if Olivia is financing this or what, but I don’t think it matters anymore. We aren’t going to make it until January at this rate. Hell, I don’t think we’ll make it to September.”

She reached over and gave his wrist a little squeeze. He was trying to do so much to keep them surviving on their own. She knew it was killing him that they were having to take this risk, to potentially get themselves caught in some weird clandestine meetup with a former prince in order to get some more cash and their passports so that they could try and get forgeries made. It really was their best chance at being able to hide out through the Conclave.

“Well, then let’s do it. Work out the details with Olivia and get what we need to try and keep going.

Drake stared at her for just a brief moment before giving her a little nod. There wasn’t really much to say. All they could do was keep moving forward, day by day. So, Riley slid down into her pillow, finally ready to get some sleep now that she knew Drake was back and safe. The last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered closed was Drake letting out a heavy sigh before reaching into the bag of food.

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

TRR/TRH: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @yaushie @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99 @twinkleallnight

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256​

[juminsmysticmc]

Hi! I've been waiting fur your requests to open back up! I'd love to see how RFA +V +Saeran +Vanderwood would react to an MC who bakes really well. Like heaven in your mouth well. Thank you so much!

RFA + Minor Trio with a Mc who bakes really well

Hii! I’m sorry that it took me so long, opening these Requests also took ages, I hope you can forgive me, hahah. I hope you enjoy the HC. By the way - I suck at baking XD

Jumin

,,You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy.... when skies are gray…’’ you summed while you baked your orange chocolate cake.

It had been a long time since you last decided to bake anything, but this was due to your stay at Jumin’s penthouse when the both of you were still unmarried.

Now that you were his wife, you weren’t that shy anymore.

You used the moment of silence to bake a cake for your husband, who was pretty stressed out lately.

You hoped that he would enjoy the desert you prepared with a lot of love.

Just when you finished decorating the beautiful cake, the door opened and Jumin came in.

He began to sniffle and immediately confessed that he could smell something yummy.

With your usual smile, you greeted and kissed him.

,,Would you want to enjoy my cake with a cup of coffee?’’ you asked him, kind of scared that he could reject you due to his work.

But of course Jumin Han would never push you back.

He eagerly nodded and went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

After ten minutes, you helped him with the coffee and both of you sat on the couch, sipping the brown drink.

Jumin now finally took the fork into his hand and began to eat the soft creation you made.

Suddenly he moaned and looked at you with a shocked expression, making you think that your food was disgusting.

But it was different. Jumin couldn’t believe that you were the one who baked the cake.

,,It’s like an explosion in my mouth. I really love it! Maybe I should organize a coffee and cake project…’’ he began to mumble loudly when he chewed on his third slice of cake.

Zen

,,I’m so excited that I will be able to eat a cake made by you!’’ your boyfriend laughed, noticing that he never ate a cake made by you.

,,Don’t expect to much…’’ you mumbled embarrassed.

,,Ah, don’t be so humble…“ he smiled and kept observing you.

You were creating a real masterpiece. Zen couldn’t explain how you did it because you moved so quickly, but he knew that it smelled very very good.

A few moments later, you called him.

,,Yes, what can-” he stopped.

You opened the warm oven and took out the chocolate cake you had just prepared.

,,It’s still hot, but I wanted to show it to you.“ you mumbled.

Zen immediately took out his phone and took a few pictures.

,,I have to post this! My fans have to know how good you are!“ he laughed and posted a photo.

Not long after he posted the photo, he posted the same picture in the group, receiving a lot of responses from Yoosung and Seven that they will come over too.

,,Mc, close the doors. Two idiots are coming over…“ he whispered and took a spoonful of your cake, feeling like he was in heaven right away.

,,How can it be so sweet and soft?“ he asked you in a whiny voice.

For today, he ignored the fact that chocolate was the cause of pimples.

Yoosung

You always loved to bake cakes and prepare desserts.

A few years later, it wasn’t any different.

You still loved to bake sweets and see the ones you loved smile.

,,Mommy!!!!!“ you heard your little girl scream through the house.

Then you heard loud footsteps and suddenly, a blond girl and brown haired man stood in the door.

,,Daddy said I have to wait for my present!“ she whined.

,,Okay and why are you complaining now?“ you asked her and put the big cake in the fridge.

It was a cake with three layers.

It would look like a big princess dress since you planned to put princess in the top.

,,Huh? But your friends always take ages!“ she whined.

,,Don’t complain now,“ you warned and saw her stomping away.

Yoosung approached you and hugged you from behind.

,,You’ve been in here a pretty long time…“ he teased you, overestimating you.

But when he saw the pink-violet cake on the table a few hours later, he didn’t know what to say.

And it even tasted good!

,,You’re wasting such a good talent!“ Yoosung whined and ate a second slice.

It tasted really good, and Yoosung was once again proud to have you as his wife and the mother of his daughter.

Jaehee

When she asked if you would be willing to help her with the coffee shop, she didn’t know that you were such a good baker.

Well, perhaps it was because you just didn’t tell her that you worked in a pastry shop.

One day, she just got up and found three wonderful cakes in the glass cabinet.

Next to them were beautiful cupcakes and muffins.

It wasn’t even 9 AM and you already did half the work.

,,What’s that?’’ she asked you with an amused face and kissed you on your cheek as a good morning greeting.

,,I’m not sure. I think it’s for the garbage. Maybe you could taste the cupcake?’’ you asked her.

She nodded and took one of the cupcakes with the pink glitter on top.

She slowly bit off the cream and then tasted the cake.

,,Oh my god…’’ she mumbled and opened her eyes in shock.

You thought that the worst would come up, but she took three more bites until nothing was left.

,,Okay. I think you need to show me how to do it…’’ she said, staring at the cupcakes and combatting with herself if she should hide them instead of selling them.

Saeyoung

Your resume said that you actually worked in a pastry shop in LA and later moved back to Korea.

Unfortunately, your shop in Seoul was sabotaged and you had to give up on your dream.

A little bit later, Unknown and the RFA robbed your time and you didn’t have the time to think about it anymore.

Just a few months later, when you decided to bake a cake to cheer up the RFA, you remembered that you were really good at it.

You decided to bake a really big white cake with a cat on the front and LOLOL on the back.

The icon on the cake would be Zenny and the decoration would be coffee beans.

This way a piece of everyone would be a part of the cake.

And you had to be honest, you were pretty happy with the results.

Of course you hid your cake, and when the RFA came to visit, you and your fiancé, as well as his brother who lived with the two of you, got really emotional. 

,,Woah, when did you do this?!’’ Saeyoung asked you, pretty hyped, and licked his finger that was covered in cream.

,,Hehe. While the both of you were arguing over pizza and chicken.’’ you answered Saeyoung.

His eyes widened when he licked his finger once again.

You thought that the cream was salty and that you mixed up salt and sugar, but apparently he loved your cream.

The cake didn’t even last a day. The RFA only ate the cake and gave you a lot of compliments.

,,I wish my birthday would be every day so that you would have a reason to bake a cake for me!’’ your husband whined and kissed your cheek, thankful for your efforts.

Saeran

You knew that your boyfriend had a sweet tooth and you wanted to make him happy once in a while.

The past month was hard and it was still the beginning.

And so, while he was in Jumin’s company, trying to get his father and save his older twin brother, you gave your best at home.

You added the ingredients and made an apple-cinnamon-pie.

Of course, ice cream and whipped cream weren't left out.

,,Woah, these are enough calories for a mouthful!’’ you laughed to yourself as you added sugar.

A good odor welcomed the almost red haired man when he opened the brown door.

Did you invite someone?

But you were alone in the kitchen, your clothes completely white from the flour.

Saeran let out a soft laugh as he saw you.

,,Did you grow old on your own without me?’’ he asked you and patted your white hair.

,,Mhh...you simply took too long. I fell in love with the apple pie instead.’’ you teased him and smiled brightly, expecting a kiss while you closed your eyes.

Saeran happily gave you a kiss and then looked at the pie.

,,So I have an enemy now?’’ he asked you.

You were in pain, his words were filled with irony.

But you quickly sliced the pie, added the warm cream and ice cream, and gave him a spoon.

,,Defeat your enemy!’’

He put the spoon in his mouth and mumbled a ,,Mhhhh’’ before he added another spoonful.

,,Oh my god, I don’t want to defeat this pie. Who did-you?!’’ he asked you, laughing now and enjoying the pie.

You happily nodded and gave him a second slice.

The best thing today was to see his smile.

Jihyun 

,,Come on, Lucy!’’ you called her.

When your daughter approached you, you explained the baking process step by step.

She even helped you to bake her dad’s birthday cake.

Of course, Jihyun couldn’t stand the surprise. Instead, he entered the kitchen and kept taking pictures of the both of you.

Both of you chuckled as Jihyun was simply obsessed with the pictures.

Your house was filled with photographs, but this was also something beautiful in your eyes.

Later on, the RFA came over and ate the cake with you.

Really, no one believed that you baked the cake and that Lucy helped you!

,,Really! Ask Daddy! He even broke his promise and came into the kitchen to take pictures!’’ Lucy exclaimed.

,,Breaking promises is an old habit of your dad,’’ Yoosung said

But not even Jihyun could believe that you were that great at baking.

It was almost as if he was floating on clouds.

Since then, your job was to bake a cake at least once a week.

Vanderwood

You knew that Vanderwood would get angry at you.

Just the fact that the kitchen was a mess would give him a reason to kill you.

But you ignored the death thoughts and instead kept baking for him.

When Vanderwood saw the kitchen, he really was about to kill you but his anger vanished when he saw the beautiful cake with his name decorated with chocolate cream.

His heart grew warm as he thought about you.

A bit later you opened the door, not expecting him so early you totally bumped into him and almost fell on your back.

But your boyfriend caught you before something happened.

His smile was reflecting in your eyes.

,,What you’re doing home already?’’ you asked him, not even trying to hide the candles.

,,I wanted to enjoy my birthday with my princess.’’ he confessed and lead you to his lips.

,,You taste sweet. Did you eat it without me?’’ he asked you with a cute smirk.

You lightly slapped his shoulder and put the candles on the cake.

He quickly blew them out and expected to have to act as if the cake was tasty.

Instead, he had to try his best to not explode from happiness.

It tasted very good.

His eyes widened with every bite he took.

,,Is it okay?’’ you asked him, worried that it would be disgusting.

But from the look on your boyfriend’s face, the cake was more than yummy.

MASTERLIST 1MASTERLIST 2MASTERLIST 3

10.11.2019// 01:21 MEST

Tagged:

@foreversunshine-love​ @giulia2372 @sailormoonrocks666

@widya345 @remiliadacalde @r-f-a-journalists

[lorei-writes]

Together

Part 3 - The Future

Masamune x MC (Mizusaki Mai) Word count: 1570-ish Previous parts: Part 1 - The Past, Part 2 - The Present

The ending we all deserve.

Disclaimer: all the characters in my fics, headcanons, scenarios, etc. belong to their rightful owners. I do not own any character that is present in the Ikemen Series games.

I hope it turned out all right, because I really, really, really did spend a lot of time writing some parts over and over again.

Crossing the narrow streets, she noticed a lone peony bush, the flowers just about to start blooming. Was it a lucky sign or a disastrous omen – Mai was not sure.

Mai ran, her feet bouncing off the pavement in a feverish rush. She glanced briefly at the reddish sky littered with power lines, stretching between the poles and buildings in a jungle of cables. A sudden surge of memories overflown her, causing her heart to ache in yearning. The picture of the horse rides at breakneck pace resurfaced, the colours of the fields painting themselves on the canvas of her mind. She could swear she could smell the summery wind, that she could feel the familiar warmth supporting her from behind. Her skin burned, remembering all the caresses, demanding a compensation for the missed touches.

Crossing the narrow streets, she noticed a lone peony bush, the flowers just about to start blooming. Was it a lucky sign or a disastrous omen – Mai was not sure.  Her pace increased, as the anxiety crept on her back, the day of their parting sneaking into her stream of thoughts. The old wounds opened, as she recalled how powerless she had been then, how she couldn't have saved her beloved from sorrow, how much she wanted to just hold him and whisper soothing words.  

The world around her seemed to morph into an odd creation of both past and present, the memory and the reality entwined together. Too agitated, too unsure of her intuition, too lost in her own head, Mai had not noticed her body giving up and asking for rest. The pain in her side sharpening with each step made her stop, her lungs begging for air. She doubled down, furious with her own limitations. „ Excuse me.” She straightened her back abruptly, disbelief guiding her eyes to the source of the very familiar voice. Hesitantly, she took a step forward. „ Is that really you or am I dreaming?”, she uttered, the words being almost a faithful prayer. „ I should be the one asking. Who else would I be?” Masamune answered, uncertainty mixed on his face with tiredness and a soft, peaceful contentment.

The universe collapsed. She was in his arms, surrounded by his warmth, his heart beating strongly. In that moment, Masamune felt to her more alive and real than anything that surrounded them. Something wet traveled down Mai's face, surprising her, only for her to realise she was crying and couldn't stop. The embrace tightening, she noted her lover's hands trembled. „ Masamune?” Mai rasped, unable to control her voice. „ Just a little bit longer.” She not only couldn't, but didn't want to deny him – deny herself. So they stood, until their hunger for each other was satiated just enough to let go. She wanted to say something, anything – how she missed him, how hard it was, how worried he made her – yet couldn't find any words fitting enough. Instead, she let herself look at him – just look – until her eyes rested at the scabbards. „ Shoot. We need to get out of here. Swords are illegal in public,” she said fast upon taking his hand and leading him back to her flat. „ Those really are peaceful times then,” he answered, shaking his head in mild disbelief. „ What are those lines above us? I've seen plenty of them.” „ Power lines, basically pathways for electricity. Em, another invention, I'll show you later,” Mai replied.

The route home drew out, as Mai opted for the less frequented paths, hoping to attract as little curious eyes as possible. The couple looked peculiar to say the least – a man in historical attire, an eyepatch on his face, and a woman, visibly tired and red from crying. She did not expect to just casually chat with her lover, as if they had never been separated in the first place. The door to her apartment closed behind them and a storm of feelings inside of her – regret, relief, love, anxiety, joy – replaced the initial confusion. Unsure as to who should speak first, they sat on her bed in the silence for a minute, each not quite believing the reality. „ I'm sorry,” Mai uttered finally. „ For what?”, he asked in reply, a surprise evident on his face. „ For calling you a liar. I've never meant it.  I wanted to apologize for all this time.” „ And I'm sorry for not going with you then,” Masamune said, squeezing her hand. „No, you had valid reasons.” „ Mai. It is the first thing in my life I regret doing,” he stated, brushing his fingers against her cheek. „ I missed you so much it felt like dying.” She wanted to tell him so much – how lonely she had been without him, how she missed his touch, his voice, how hard it had been to wake up in the morning – yet she found herself speechless. Unable to convey her feelings in any other way, she kissed him, hoping it would be enough. „ We've got a lot to make up for, right kitten?”, he whispered against her lips.

Mai woke up later that night, her lover's arm wrapped around her waist. She looked up, just to see Masamune still sound asleep – how unusual for him. Yet, there was a comfort to be found in the familiar routine, even the slightly changed one. She studied his face, then relaxed and so peaceful, trying to remember as many detail as possible – the way his lips parted just slightly, his hair falling on his brow in a disorderly manner, the barely audible sound of him breathing. Fatigue marked him, the dark circles evident under his eyes – Mai wondered how it came to be so, knowing her husband had hardly shown any signs of weariness, even with packed schedule. She brushed her fingers over his scar, letting them  trail down his cheek, until her hand returned on the pillow. Masamune grumbled a bit, his words more of a murmur than anything else. His wife giggled, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Suddenly, his eye shot open, a glimpse of fear dancing into the blue iris, only for it to calm down upon realising where he was. He snuggled closer to her. „ I thought it was all a dream for a second,” Masamune mustered. „ It is not. Go back to sleep, you look tired,” Mai replied, „ I'm not.” „ You always say that.” „ How many hours are there until dawn?” Amused by his stubbornness, she shook her head, reaching for the phone. The notifications were overflown with the messages from Sasuke. Only after Mai scolded herself and sent him a brief update, did she open a link included in one of the texts. It froze her. „ Kitten?” Masamune called her, a tinge of concern in his voice. „ Masamune, why does the article I'm reading say that it is uncertain who the 'One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu' was?” He sat up with a sigh, staring off into the distance. „ Some things in history changed after all, but if it's just that, then I'm glad.” „ What exactly did you do?” „ Remember when your ninja friend stated that the wormholes may be a tool to correct the history? I placed a wager and rushed everything, so that it was similar to what you've told me, but different. It seems it worked.” „ But... Your domain. You worked so hard for Oshu,” she said, disbelief in her voice, as she took his hand into hers. „ It was my idea. I asked our friends to never use my name in any correspondence. I think I only signed the letters to you with it.” She hugged him, contradictory thoughts coursing through her mind. Maybe it would have been better if he had forgot about her? If they had never fallen in love? Maybe she should have stayed in the past after all. All the maybies clouded her reason, never once letting her realise one thing. „ Lass, don't sulk on me. It was my choice,” his voice ran through the mist inside her head, warding it off. „ That I do not regret.” „ Masamune Date, you are impossible.” With a teasing grin, he tickled her sides, until she was in his arms, begging for mercy. Mai turned to face him, still trying to hold in laughter, and kissed him. *** The sun was already high on the sky when Mai returned from shopping and her anxiety spiked. Masamune, dressed in modern clothes, sat on the floor and observed as his wife paced around the flat in circles, trying to soothe her panic. „ Okay,  okay, okay, what to do if a person that technically doesn't exist in your timeline appears and has to adapt, Mai, think,” she repeated under her breath, in her thoughts running over check boxes. What to show first, what to teach first, is there anything bureaucracy related they should sort out, how to even do it. How was she even going to introduce her husband-technically-not-husband-in-the-present to her parents? „ Lass, calm down. You did great in sengoku, I can do it now.” „ I know, it's only that I have no clue where to even start,” she sighed, her head overflowing with possible scenarios. „ What about five hundred stops to make up for five hundred years?” Mai nodded, determination in her eyes. She took his hand and so, they ventured out to see the world.

[scriptlgbt]

My story is about pirates. The MC is a trans guy and the captain is a lesbian who is some sort of big sister/mother figure to him. It's quite violent. I was wondering if it could be problematic? I know it's problematic to show trans woman being overly violent in fiction but what about cis lesbians and straight trans guys? Also, do you know about real any queer pirates i could read about? And what did pirates think about homosexuality/transness?) How was it being queer in the pirate world?

A conversation that I had, that is relevant:

ME: [PARTNER], do you know anything about queer pirates?

PARTNER: I know that there were many, and they’d sometimes be like -

ME: Sea husbands kind of thing?

PARTNER: Yeah, and one would inherit from the other’s booty, and when it was divided up, they’d share their share of the booty.

ME: [mischievous grinning face]

PARTNER: [nodding] And they might share each other’s booty.

Disclaimer: This whole thing is going to largely focus on what is known as the Golden Age Of Piracy. I’m also not a historian, I just hardcore, love pirates with my heart and soul. This is going to be a long post.

So, this is super generalized, but pirates, and even sea-faring folks in general (see: - or sea, hahahahaha - the LGBT+ history of Brighton in the UK), have tended to have a much higher rate of LGBT+ folks and minoritized people in general, throughout history. As far as most research I’ve done goes. Being in a travelling situation and having the anonymity of being able to move around with chosen family generally has great appeal to folks whose existences are filled with oppression and a sense of not belongingness. This has also applied for racialized people, women in general, impoverished folks in general, a lot of different people who wanted to reclaim a place in the world that ostracized them.

Another fun fact, the use of the term “Friend of Dorothy” as a euphemism for gay folks was investigated by the US Navy. They misunderstood it as meaning that there actually was a woman named Dorothy who could be routed down and coerced into outing her “friends” to the military. Cruise ships and others have also used this phrase to covertly advertise that there were meetings for these folks. (Source: Wikipedia | “Friend of Dorothy”) 

But to get to the pirates, specifically.

Most pirate ships largely had their own code that everyone on their ship had to agree to. Some had things like, “you’ll be marooned with one knife, and no food if you are caught not reporting loot to be divvied up by the crew fairly” and things like that. But generally, whoever ran the ship, the Captain, would get to pick the rules. And with the partial-democracy that comes with the idea of mutiny, and the more notable reliance on the labour of it all, in general, things were able to be slightly more consensus-based than the on-land governments.

There are numerous women who became pirates to take ownership of their lives in ways that weren’t permitted on-land. Anne Bonny and Mary Read are historical figures that might be worth looking into. The two of them shared lovers, sailed together, had intense care for one and other and with their dressing up in masculine-coded attire and the like, there’s a lot to go off of in assuming they may have been romantically involved with each other. If not, at least they had some iteration of what a lot of contemporary folks might find comparable to a QPR.

The concept of “sea husbands” was also called matelotage (or bunkmate) depending on your crew. It was kind of the buddy system, but gayer. With little need to consistently explain it to outsiders, folks at sea were freer to explore the different ways a relationship with another person can be, without so much worrying about how it looks to others at a passing glance. And as pirates, there’s less concern that you’ll get shit from the law for gay stuff Of All Things. 

Buccaneer Alexander Exquemelin wrote: ‘It is the general and solemn custom amongst them all to seek out… a comrade or companion, whom we may call partner… with whom they join the whole stock of what they possess.’  (Source)

It was just normal. They also had a version of health insurance where someone was compensated if they ended up disabled from battle. The compensation of death of your partner also works into this.

As for transness, these kinds of things have had fickle definitions and historically, it’s hard to be able to pinpoint specific people as fitting cleanly into contemporary cultural definitions of transness, because frankly, the past had different culture to now. When it comes to writing canonically trans characters in contexts where the language might have been different, it’s important to focus on making sure that a trans reader can identify the personal connection with that character’s experiences and feelings, just as much as it is to use language to name folks as trans. 

Representation can go deeper than surface terminology and the like, and in cases where the terminology doesn’t necessarily match, it has to. Language like, “I never really felt like a [assigned gender] - I see myself more like [desciption of actual gender identity or name for it].” - is as good as just saying the character is trans in my opinion.

Depending on where the character is from, they also may have just outright had a word in their language for their identity. 

Gender presentation was significantly freer with pirates than it was for folks on land. Things like earrings, frilled sleeves, varied hair length and similar, were not uncommon, although the gendered coding associated with these aspects of appearance had different implications than they do now. Gold earrings on seafarers were there to fund a proper burial if someone’s body washed ashore. Gendered clothing was also coded in more binary ways on land. Folks who wanted to be coded as men could do so by wearing pants and folks who wanted to be coded as women could do so with skirts and dresses. (Tangential but fun fact yet again: dressing in those big poofy skirts usually included massive pockets. They were generally not physically attached to the skirts, but if you wore it all properly you would easily be able to reach into them.) 

Pirates and other seafarers also had clothing referred to as ‘slops’ for cleaning (if they were of the rank that cleaned anyway) which were pretty wide-legged pants that could almost pass for a skirt. 

Material that pirates used for clothing was largely what they stole, but it was cut and sewn into the same shapes a lot of other seafarers wore. At the time, it was largely illegal (under English rules anyway) for people who weren’t the bourgeoisie to wear anything made with nice fabric. Rich people saw this as deceitful, and these laws enabled richer people to not mingle on an equal level with those of a lower socioeconomic status.

As pirates, if you’re already shunning the law, may as well wear full calico suits. (Like Calico Jack Rackham.)

There’s more info on pirate and privateer clothing here. (The link is to a free book in HTML format, complete with illustrations and talk of materials, and how the clothes worn at sea varied from clothes they wore when they came into shore and towns.)

I could write a book on this and still not have covered enough. But the gist is that pirates were a big counterculture of outsiders living their lives. LGBT+ people and racialized people got thrown into the mix (and jumped right in) and experienced much more liberated lives than they might otherwise. That isn’t to say they were flawlessly inclusive - there still definitely were a lot of things people thought of in congruence with colonial beliefs. There was racism and homophobia - but it looked a lot different, and was a lot lighter than you’d think. And there were some ships which banned women, but mainly I think that was because they typically didn’t have the background to hold their ground on the ships, and were considered more of a plus one to certain crew members (who brought them - the rules were specifically about bringing them onto the ship rather than them being there of their own accord) than part of the crew. Sometimes women were part of the crew.

Notably, Anne Bonny and Mary Read were in a polyamorous triad with Calico Jack Rackham. (I think a cis + het historian might argue about this but that would seem like denial to me tbh. There is much, MUCH more evidence pointing in this direction than against it, and it would be extraordinarily hard to argue otherwise.) I would definitely do some research on them!

I also recommend this book (link is the free text on WikiSource), A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the most notorious Pyrates. It is perhaps the most famous contemporary record of the lives of a number of pirates from the time, including Anne Bonny and Mary Read.

As for the sensitivity aspect of this ask, I’d say that what you are describing is completely fine. As long as the violence isn’t used to dehumanize or completely demonize, I would even say that I don’t have any warnings for you about it, or precautions to advise on.

Thank you for this opportunity to infodump about LGBT+ pirates. I hope this is not overwhelming, but I’m also happy to parse out segments of this better upon request. (Our ask will be open eventually, I promise.)

- mod nat

[killerprotector]

Cupid’s and Cupcakes

For the Valentines gift exchange set up by @mysmevalentinesdayexchange I was assigned to @hobibiin ! I really hope you like your gift! It’s full of fluff and love!  

Happy Valentines day to you and every else! <3 

(Warnings: Killer fluff!, It’s quite a long read ^^;)

(Gif belongs to @alechivis)

“Hey honey!” MC smiled brightly at her blonde haired husband, brushing her own long, brown hair out of her face with one frosting covered hand.

“MC!” Yoosung looked a bit startled at her presence in the kitchen. “You’re home early.”

MC smiled, lifting a hand to stop herself from laughing. “Of course, I have to finish up my present for you silly~”

Yoosung blushed heavily, shifting nervously in his spot as he switched something back in forth between his hands behind his back. MC raised an eyebrow, squinting her eyes at him in a teasing manner.

“Whatcha got there-”

“N-nothing!” Yoosung protested immediately before running from the kitchen. MC heard the door of their bedroom slam closed behind him. She let out a giggle at Yoosung's surprised yelp at the sound.

"Don't come in until I say!" Came the muffled voice of her husband behind the closed door. MC shook her head with an amused smile on her face.

"Fine, but you can't come out until I say either!" She teased, earning a muffled "okay" in return. She turned back to the gift she was preparing for Yoosung. It was Valentine's day after all!

She picked up the handmade card she had pasted together that morning, reading it over:

"This Valentines day I hope we can look back and enjoy the times we've had together so far. I can't wait for our other enjoyable moments to come! So lets add another moment together! I hope to give you a gift as sweet as you are! Happy Valentines day my love! - Love MC <3".

She nodded in approval of the card, setting to the side while she checked on the consistency of her frosting she was preparing before she began on the cupcakes.

Stirring the mixture once more, adding some more ripped cream to allow it to thicken even further, MC decided it was the exact consistency she had wanted to capture. Adding a drop or two of red food coloring, she had transformed the white vanilla frosting to a blush pink color.

'Perfect,' she thought with a bright smile. She used a spoon to get the extra frosting off of the whisk, successfully plopping the substance into the bowl with the rest of it. Using two hands, MC picked up the large bowl of frosting and moved to place it in the fridge to cool and thicken while she sipped together the batter for the red velvet, chocolate chip cupcakes.

Eggs, flour, chocolate chips, one by one all of the ingredients were mixed into the bowl. With a satisfied head nod, MC picked up a ladle and spooned out portions of the batter to place in the muffin tin she had lined with colorful, heart covered cupcake liners.

With a careful, steady hand, she picked up the tray and gently slid it into the pre-heated oven. A few beeps resounded throughout the kitchen as she quickly entered some numbers into the microwave, setting a timer for the cupcakes.

"Alright, almost done!" MC grinned, wiping her hands on a dishtowel before deciding to sit up on the counter and check out the messenger. It was a mess of silent commotion almost immediately:

**MC has entered the chat**

Seven: AHHHH Valentines day!!!!

Jumin: I don't quite see the point in this holiday unless you have a significant other.

Jumin: ...

Jumin: Though I suppose the festivities and decorations are quite a big deal.

Jaehee: I hope you're not suggesting another cat project -_-;

Seven: Speaking of cats!!

Seven: Send pictures of Elly!! (=^‥^=)

It was at this point that MC decided to join in.

MC: Yes send us pictures of Elly! Meow~

Seven: Aha! Someone gets it ^

Jumin: I will do no such thing. She is busy at the moment.

Zen: Not that I want you to send a picture of that hairball... but what could a CAT possibly be busy with?

Jumin: If you must know, she is at the masseuse.

MC: ?

Zen: ?

Jumin: ...?

MC: A masseuse? For cats?

Jumin: Yes, is that so surprising?

Zen: I've never heard of anything more ridiculous!

Jaehee: I too was quite surprised when I had to make the call to schedule an appointment for her.

Seven: Ahh she's too cute! If only there was some way for me to see her >~<

Jumin: You will never be anywhere near my precious Elizabeth.

Seven: Aw man

Seven: At least wish her a happy Valentines day from me!! And that she's the prettiest kitty in the whole entire world!!

Jumin: ...

Seven: :3

Jumin: I suppose she would appreciate the compliment.

Seven: YAY! Success!

Seven: Ah! I must go! Duty calls!

Seven: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE!!

**Seven has left the chat**

MC: Well that just happened ^^;

Zen: I have to go get a drink... all this talk of a cat is making my face puff up.

MC: Just be careful Zen!

Zen: Will do~!

Zen: Oh and...

Zen: <3 Happy Valentines day! <3  

**Zen has left the chat**

Jaehee: //^^// Oh my I feel so blessed.

MC: I agree ^^

Jaehee: But sadly I must be going as well. My lunch break is coming to an end.

MC: Aw :/

MC: Well I hope you had a good lunch! Happy Valentines day Jae~

Jaehee: Thank you for your kind words. ^^

Jaehee: Happy Valentines day to you too MC! <3

**Jaehee has left the chat**

Jumin: Oh? Assistant Kang has left already?

MC: I'm afraid so...

Jumin: Then I must be getting back to work as well.

Jumin: Make sure to eat a healthy lunch MC.

MC looked up from her phone, eyeing the cupcakes in the oven before letting out a laugh.

MC: Will do! :D

Jumin: Good. :)

MC: Happy Valentines day Jumin!

**Zen has entered the chat**

Jumin: Thank you. A happy Valentines day to you as well.

**Jumin has left the chat**

Zen: Tch.. so cold

MC: It's fine Zen ^^;

Zen: Well the least he could have done was to leave a happy face -_-

MC: ...

Zen: Well enough about that

Zen: Where's Yoosung? I haven't seen him in here since yesterday

MC: He's in our room ^^; he told me not to come in until he was done doing whatever he's doing

Zen: Ah! Preparing a Valentines gift perhaps?

MC: Perhaps!

MC: Though I admit, I'm doing the same

MC: He can't come into the kitchen until I'm done with it

Zen: Ooo what is it you're making for him?

MC: I'd love to tell you but I'm afraid he would look in the chat before it's finished and the surprise would be ruined ^^;

Zen: Oh well, I won't let you spoil it then! You can tell me after!

MC: ^^

Zen: But for now I should go

Zen: I have to get some rest before my rehearsal!

Zen: Maybe I'll get some cucumbers for my eyes?

MC: That sounds great! I wish you luck!

MC: Happy Valentines day Zen! <3

Zen: ^^

Zen: Happy Valentines day to you too MC! <3 <3

**Zen has left the chat**

**MC has left the chat**

Right as MC put her phone down, the timer for the cupcakes went off.

"Oh!" She squeaked, startled at how fast time had gone by. She rushed over to the oven, clicking it off with a loud beep from the buttons. She put on the oven mitts and grabbed the tray from the hot oven, setting it on top of the stove to cool.

Quickly pulling the frosting from the fridge, MC began to frost the cupcakes. Soon they were all frosted, decorated with some pink and white sprinkles, and placed on a decorative plate.

"Yoosung!" MC called for her husband as she stood on the other side of the closed bedroom door. "Are you finished yet? I need you to come out into the kitchen!"

She could faintly hear some shuffling and some hurried footsteps coming towards the door as she turned to walk back into the kitchen.

"Ah! Coming! Just a second!" Yoosung shouted just as MC sat down at the kitchen table with a huge smile, cupcakes and the card placed in front of her.

When Yoosung walked around the corner his jaw dropped, lips moving quickly to form the biggest smile.

“MC you did all of this for me?” Yoosung just couldn’t stop smiling.

“Happy Valentines day Yoosung!” MC got up from the table, pulling her husband into a hug.

“Oh my love!” Yoosung exclaimed, placing a loving kiss on MC’s lips. “Happy Valentines day!”

Mc reached behind herself, holding a cupcake up to his lips. “A cupcake for my cupcake!”

The blonde man blushed heavily as MC held the cupcake and he leaned forward to take a bite. His eyes widened as he chewed the fluffy cake.

“This is amazing!” He mumbled through it making MC laugh.

“I’m glad you like it,” she placed a loving kiss on his cheek before moving away to grab one for herself, holding the card between her thumb and forefinger. “Here’s the card~”

Yoosung took it from her hands, opening the card with care. His eyes softened, heart beating strongly with love as he read it over.

“I love you so much MC!” He pulled his wife back into him, crushing her to his chest while placing kisses upon her head. MC giggled at the action.

Suddenly Yoosung pulled away, pushing a large frame into MC’s hands.

“Here’s uh- my gift,” He was blushing again as he watched MC gently remove the wrapping paper. She gasped, placing a hand to her chest as she looked it over, a whole collage of pictures of the two of them.

“Yoosung… this is,” MC paused, smiling happily up at her husband. “This is beautiful! Ah I love you so so much!” She jumped into his arms once more after carefully placing the collage on the table in front of her.

“I love you too~” Yoosung grinned, holding his love tightly.

Just like that, Valentines came to an end, though there was no doubt that Yoosung and MC would continue to make memories together, living happily in love until the end.

~The End~

[thefloatingstone]

In 2012 I did not think I’d be able to make this list as I was convinced anime was on a permanent decline towards nothing but trash, but I am so happy that has changed! And so I give you a quick list of;

Favourite Anime made in the last 4 years!

Mob Psycho 100 (2016)

A no brainer, really. With a 2nd Season having JUST premiered earlier this week, MP100 is easily one of not only best LOOKING animes in a very very long time, but also one with an extremely strong empathetic message that’s completely opposite to most shounen anime. The theme of “having outrageous powers doesn’t make you any more or less special and important than any other human being” and how all the villains in the show are people, either super powered or not, who believe themselves “more important” than others is at the heart of its story. And our protagonist who is a person with horrifically strong powers, but who is trying to develop as a human being, and finds himself to be a rather emotionally brittle person who relies very heavily on others for emotional support. As well as focusing on the people willing to grant him that. It’s got some strong influential roots in the Earthbound and Mother 3 games and despite never saying anything along those lines, I can bet you anything the original Mangaka, ONE, drew heavy inspiration from their tone and presentation, as well as emotional core despite the oftentimes wacky setting.

The anime should also not be overlooked for its incredible Sakuga sequences, as well as using mixed media in its animation from pencil drawings, to paint of glass, to charcoal to sand, cementing it as easily one of the most visually interesting and ambitious shows in the last decade or so

Made in Abyss (2017)

An anime that understands concepts of Scope and Scale and manages to bring what is normally reserved for feature films to an episodic storyline. Made in Abyss’ entire theme and story is that of exploration of the unknown and everything in this anime’s power is honed to bring across that feeling. Its art direction headed by Osamu Masuyama whose previous work include working on the background art for both Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle, is painstakingly rendered to bring as much gravitas to the setting as possible, aided by the soundtrack written by Kevin Penkin which is just as much atmospheric as it is musical in nature. Every ounce of talent is focused on making Made in Abyss’ world, culture and characters feel solid and real. And unlike other anime with cutesy art styles but dark subject matter, Made in Abyss’ darker tone is established right in the first episode and gradually builds to its first season’s climax, rather than blindside its audience out of nowhere.

I sincerely cannot sing this show’s praises enough.

It also doesn’t hurt that the animation itself is fluid and lively.

Re:Creators (2017)

When I gave this to an animator friend of mine, one who is NOT as big a weeb as I am, he referred to it as “if Ready Player One actually knew what it was doing.” Re:Creators is one of a trend of some anime where the narrative is extremely meta in nature, but rather than use this as a form of parody, Re:Creators instead focuses itself on using its meta storytelling to shine a light on Japanese popular media as a whole, both from the side of the creators who MAKE such things, as well as the side of the fans and not only their response to media, but their interpretation and addition to popular media. And unlike the more critical approach several horror anime have taken in the past, Re:Creators also shows the positive effect stories in the form of anime, video games, manga etc both on those who read it as well as those who create it. And show how fan creations and their responses and reaction to media are just as important and enriching to works like this as the very people who create them.

It’s also one of the first shows from any country that correctly portrays what online fan culture is like. Both good AND bad.

Erased (2016)

HOO BOY. The Big Guns. Most mainstream anime set in a modern setting inevitably seem to involve high school or at least characters who are high school aged. Erased, however, deals with a protagonist who is 28 years old. Due to time travel shenanigans, he is transported back to 1989 when he was 11 years old growing up in Hokaido. So already, this anime is complete skewing the generic setting for stories of its type, further hammered in by the fact that the show has no romantic subplot in it. There might be a smidge of something like “preteen romantic feelings” among the children but as far as “female hero the protag is going to fall in love with at the end” goes? Yeah there’s none of that.

Erased is an extremely dark anime, but not in the way Made in Abyss is dark. Whereas Abyss’ dark tone comes from things like getting eaten by monsters and body horror caused by the Abyss’ curse, the dark theme of Erased on the other hand is much more horrifying as it comes from “reality”. And it’s because of this I WILL have to warn people about its plot points because it WILL and DOES get uncomfortable.

The plot of Erased is our 28 year old protagonist gets hurled back in time to when he was 11 years old in Hokaido, as I said. In the winter of 1989 there were a string of child abductions and murders, and it’s up to our main character, again in his 11 year old body, to solve these crimes to prevent a tragedy in modern day. Not only does the show deal with the very uncomfortable topic of child abduction and murder, but a MASSIVE part of the plot revolves around the would be murder victim, Hinazaki Kayo, who is living with her physically abusive mother. And unlike shows like “Magical Girl SITE”, the abuse is not shown as “suffer porn” and blown up to be so over the top in how bad it is, ut is instead extremely grounded and feels waaaay to real to the point of being very upsetting. However, the abuse is not there to make the audience sad. The abuse is in the plot to further press upon the audience the borderline helpless state our main character is in. As a child, he has to rely on his experience and ability to think like an adult to try and prevent the serial murders, as WELL as try and get Hanazaki out of her abusive situation. It also serves as a learning experience for our main character, and him figuring out how he hasn’t changed at all since he really was a child, and how his own stagnation in life itself needs to change and be redirected. The show is bursting with tension and every episode exists to turn the stakes up just a little bit higher.

I’ve heard some people are extreme disappointed by the show’s ending which I will not spoil, but personally going into it completely blind, I didn’t find any of it to be a let down and its very quickly become one of my favourite anime of all time.

The Ancient Magus Bride (2017)

(I actually don’t like the intro to Ancient Magus Bride so it only gets a link since I can only embed 5 videos)

https://youtu.be/KuZbmLLv1vM

Based on a manga by Kore Yamazaki, who has stated that her reason for writing the story was out of frustration that in “Beauty and the Beast” type stories, the beast always turns back into a human at the end. However this anime is far more than just a monsterfucker’s romance novel (although it... DOES follow a LOT of those tropes but hear me out.)

Set in the English countryside (although our female MC, Rise, is herself Japanese) the show makes heavy use of english folklore. Faeries are a constant presence throughout the show, and these are not the “nice” kind of faeries you’d see in Disney. Despite theyr good nature and honest want to help, these are the kinds of faeries that will kidnap you to their realm if you so much as let your guard down. We also have excellent portrayals of Titania, the queen of the faeries, and her heated relationship with her husband Oberon. Several other creatures from folklore make an appearance too, as well as old traditions such as faerie rings, seeing stones and the magical properties of herbs and flowers.

But beyond all of that, and even beyond the romance tropes or monster protector who is also a threat and powerful lead female who also needs protecting, the core theme of the show is on life. Or more specifically, death. Rise is a girl who is suicidal. And despite her not making any kind of suicide attempt in the show, this is a fact. The majority of the show is focused on Rise learning to “be alive” again, as well as process what life is, as well as what death is in its many forms. The show is a slow build of Rise reclaiming her will to live, not because of a romantic partner, but for herself. Reclaiming her own importance as a person removed from who she could be useful towards, and a slow coming to terms with a truly terrible event in her past and letting go of a traumatic past.

The show has some pacing issues here and there, but I still qualify it as one of the better modern anime shows to have come out in years, and can only praise its life-affirming message it’s trying to tell.

Osomatsu-San (2015)

I am.... not entirely sure how to explain Osomatsu-San.

Based on a manga published in the 1960s by Doraemon Creator Fujio Fujiko about 6 identical sextuplet brothers and their friends... the current and newest anime adaptation has borderline nothing to do with its original incarnation which was more your typical Showa era “hi-jinx” type gag manga. I think the very first episode of Osomatsu-San (which is not available for official purchase last I checked due to copyright issues) sets up the entire show perfectly, as the 6 boys and their friends learn they have a new anime adaptation coming up and realise that nobody in the modern age will want or even understand Showa era manga. So, instead, in an effort to be like “a real anime” they go about parodying literally every popular trope and show that’s out at the time. From yaoi-incest baiting to Jpop boy band to Attack on Titan to Sailor Moon, they keep cranking up the “modern anime” aesthetic until it literally explodes and collapses in on itself. And after realising they don’t have what it takes to compete in a modern anime word, the characters resign themselves to being losers who will never achieve anything in life.... and that’s where the show starts.

I can only refer to the show as “Millennial humour: the anime.”. 90% of it is just comedy with our 6 main characters who are, at their core, pretty terrible people. However, their issues and struggles of trying to be adults make them some of the most relateable anime characters out there. The show bounces from parodying popular culture both in anime as well as in movies to outlining the problems of trying to be a late 20-something year old in modern society to actual hard hitting drama that actually makes you angry because how DARE this stupid show actually make you FEEL things???

It’s borderline impossible to try and explain this show because, just like its 6 protagonists, it doesn’t seem to have any direction in its life. Which is exactly the point.

[rubyleeray]

Top 10 Otome Husbands

@destinedatmidnight​ tagged me (thanks boo!!!) in this Sophie’s Choice style tag and I put a LOT of thought into this! It took me all day (lmao sorry to my boss because I did NO work today. I just held a tournament on paper of my favourite dudes). I am confident in these 10 and I’m hoping I can convince you to be my sister wife with at least one of them if you haven’t tried them yet! 

Things to keep in mind: I have played probably close to 80 games at this point and I’ve liked/loved almost all of them! I’m sticking to characters with Main Stories only and I tried to pick guys I think would make anyone a good husband and not just the guys I stan even though they are garbage XD! (i.e Takeomi Shiina).

In no particular order!

1. Lugar - Cinderella Contract. Hands down the most odd Love Interest in any game I have ever played. When I downloaded the game, I had written him off entirely. I have never been big on blondes and I am not down with mullets, but one day I got his story in a gacha and it was WILD. It was sexy and weird and funny but the perfect mix of all three and I was sold. His back story is also super interesting. He’s a bishop by day and a borderline vigilante at night. His hobbies include biting you, referring to you as “Miss ____” and scolding you. If you like weirdos, you will love Lugar. 

2. Yukimura Sanada - Samurai Love Ballad Party. My first SLBP boy and still my favourite. Yukimura has everything you want from the perfect otome husband. He’s adorable, considerate, and honorable (to a fault at times). He grows up a lot in every route of his and even his enemies respect the hell out of him. If you haven’t played SLBP yet, do it! And start with Yukimura! He’s perfect! His hobbies include sweating, blushing, misunderstanding everything, and wielding a spear. If you like good boys, you will love Yukimura. 

3. Jumin Han - Mystic Messenger. My first otome love ever and still one of my strongest! Jumin is a total surprise when you play his route. He’s odd like Lugar but also chameleon like in that he can shift and be anything and everything whenever. He’s got issues for sure but he acknowledges them and (as much as one can in 11 days) works to improve himself while also showing conviction and going for what he wants. I know everyone loves a dominant Jumin but he is a lot more than his red ribbon. His hobbies include petting his cat, taking shitty pictures, drinking wine, flying places on a whim, and cross stitching.  If you like Ikemen Sengoku’s Kenshin - you will love Jumin Han.

4. Taisuke Nadauchi - Rental Boyfriends. Raise your hand if you were expecting me to pick Takeomi Shiina lol! While Takeomi is hands down the sexiest of the RB gang, Taisuke is the best man overall. He has the best route and dynamic with MC in the whole game. There’s a lot of growth and development from both he and the MC in his route and they have a super healthy and supportive relationship which is a bit of an anomaly in this genre. They are absolutely adorable and you need to experience the magic! His hobbies include doing makeup and hair, roasting everyone around him, staying up late to clean after gatherings, and getting shy over you when you are fresh from a bath. If you loved Toma from Irresistible Mistakes, you will love Taisuke.

5. Chiaki Kira - Several Shades of Sadism. Chiaki is a total brat, but I love him. He’s almost useless without MC but he knows it (which I love), but he will also fight for her when things get rough. He’s cheeky, pushy, hilarious, and good father material in his relationship with Mutsuki. His hobbies include being a pain in the ass, holding things just out of your reach, reading you to filth with hisnyouger brother, not cleaning his room, and burritoing himself in his blankets.  If you like Ikemen Sengoku’s Nobunaga, you will like Chiaki. 

6. Soji Okita - Era of Samurai: Code of Love. Soji is extremely sexy and intimidating (terrifying) to begin with, but quickly it becomes obvious that he is the kind of sweet that makes your knees give out. He is so caring and considerate and everybody loves him. His whole existence might be pure angst, but it beautiful. He will stop at nothing to protect you and practically gives up everything for you. The maturity he brings out of the MC is nothing short of phenomenal. His hobbies include being a dad to every stray child, being bffs with every townsperson, and murder. If you like SLBP’s Saizo and/or Ikemen Sengoku’s Mitsuhide, you will love Soji. 

7. Nobunaga Oda - Ikemen Sengoku. Nobunaga is arrogant, intelligent, open-minded, and sexy as hell, but he also has a super sweet immature side that is really endearing. Everything of his I have read makes me giddy as hell. He is logical and extremely passionate and I totaly dig it. His hobbies include stealing and eating candy, actively avoiding being tickled, playing board games, and not sleeping. If you play religiously or have never played an otome game, you will love Nobunaga.   

8. Yushin Kuze - Decoding Desire. This idiot lmao. I love him so much! He is a total pain in the ass, but he’s also the most transparent love interest ever in that he loves you so damn much. He’s always experimenting with (literally) and inventing things to make MC’s life better/more interesting, but they usually backfire horribly and one or both of them always end up naked?? He’s smart as hell and a lot of fun, but when he gets serious, he’s serious. His hobbies include blowing things up, inventing modifications for both humans and androids often against their will, eating caramel things, and digging large holes for no reason. If you like Ikemen Sengoku’s Masamune, you will like Yushin.   

9. Soryu Oh - Kissed By The Baddest Bidder. Adorable and willing to get murdered for you. Not sure what else to say about him other than he is cute cute cute and I love him so much! He’s so enamored by you and your acceptance of his dark past and present. He’s always trying his best, even if that sometimes means blowing up the kitchen. His hobbies include being jacked, reading detective books, thinking about eggs, and threatening Baba & Ota with his gun when they piss him off. If you like SLBP’s Masamune, you will like Soryu. 

10. Miyabi - Enchanted in the Moonlight. Miyabi is...absolutely delicious. I love how bold and shameless he is. He knows what he wants and he makes it happen but he’s also extremely considerate underneath all his pushiness. Have I mentioned on here that I have a real bad ears and tail kink? His hobbies include rubbing up against your leg, eating Inarizushi, whispering graphic things to you in public, and chasing his tail. If you love SLBP’s Shingen and or Nobunaga, you will love Miyabi. 

(Lmao yes I realize now that most of these guys look the exact same. Tall, Dark, and Handsome never fails!)

Okay I’m sweating now. I tag @pseudofaux, @justjen523, @bulbaqueen, @kawa-akarin, @theweatheredwarrior, @heavenzfiend, @ladyofsamurai, @elnarablr-blog and anyone else who hasn’t done this yet because it’s fun and I love reading them! Sorry if I tagged you and you have already done this! Just send it to me so I can see it! I searched your blogs for key words and terms but I think everyone on here hasnt done it yet! 

[annarellix]

SAVE HER SOUL by  Lisa Regan  

My Review (5*): This is the first book I read in this series and won't surely be the last as I wasn't able to put it down. The author is a talented storyteller and this story is well written and gripping. It mixes events from the past with events in the present, a cold case and a new murder. The characters are well written and interesting. Josie, the MC, is a complex and damaged person that must face new events and things that can change her current mental balance. There's a lot of character development and I appreciated the empathy of the author towards the victims. The mystery is solid, full of twists and turns, and the solution came as a surprise. Even if it's not the first in this series I had no issues with the plot or the characters even if I want to read the previous instalment as I want to learn something more of the character history. An excellent thriller, highly recommended. Many thanks to Bookouture and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine Description: Heavy rain pours on the small town of Denton causing the riverbanks to break and the body of a young girl to float quietly to the surface. With no crime scene to examine, the odds are against Detective Josie Quinn and her team. Mercifully, the victim’s body is perfectly preserved, right down to the baseball patch on the jacket she was wearing. Josie can’t hide her devastation—her dead ex-husband, Ray, owned one just like it. Following the trail back to her high school, Josie identifies the girl as Beverly Urban, a troubled student rumored to have been dating Ray before she left town for good. It looks like a tragic accident until the autopsy reveals a bullet in her head and the heart-breaking secret she was keeping. Josie visits the salon where Beverly’s mother used to work, believing she was at the heart of a terrible scandal around the time her daughter’s life was taken. With the Denton wives remaining tight-lipped, Josie’s only hope is a secret meet-up with a terrified woman willing to talk. But she is murdered moments before giving Josie crucial information. It’s clear that someone is prepared to keep on killing to stop the truth from getting out. Digging deep into memories of her own past with Ray is the only advantage Josie has on this twisted killer… but at what cost?   Author Bio: Lisa Regan is a USA Today, Wall Street Journal bestselling author and Amazon bestselling crime novelist.  She has a bachelor's degree in English and Master of Education Degree from Bloomsburg University.  She is a member of Sisters In Crime, Mystery Writers of America and International Thriller Writers. She lives in Philadelphia with her husband and daughter. Find out more at her website: www.lisaregan.com Author Social Media Links: FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/Lisa-Regan-189735444395923/ TWITTER: https://twitter.com/Lisalregan WEBSITE: www.lisaregan.com Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6443334.Lisa_Regan

Buy Links : Amazon: https://geni.us/B0891453FHCover Apple: https://apple.co/2zl3KIa Kobo: https://bit.ly/2XnW67V Google: https://bit.ly/3e96TcH

[un-nmd]

Recent listening—

John Zorn, Naked City (1989) Reserve judgement till after you’ve heard the likes of “A Shot In The Dark” or “You Will Be Shot” (detect a theme?) for in these Lynchian juxtapositions of the mundane and the visceral, Zorn and co-conspirators laugh in all the faces of the jazz purists, art music graduates, avant-garde cultists—compartmentalisers or cataloguers or labellers, basically. The madness was always there. Zorn was only woke enough to listen to the wind and precipitate what she betrayed of her lover’s broken heart, or hearts: New York, L.A., Chicago, either/or, doesn’t matter, once past a critical mass all tend to the same limit, the wind’s seen ‘em all and they’re all the same. Naked City’s a portrait of order gone to anarchy. Whatever identity the “Latin Quarter” once had is here presented as a frenetic collage of whims; predatory, music liable to combust at any given moment. Likewise “Siagon Pickup” for an oriental equivalent. But sometimes the omens are bad enough that you can anticipate the storm, and even enjoy it, revel in it when it comes. Like on “Reanimator” where Zorn’s freakout heralds some insane climax that’s euphoric for the awakened. And please don’t miss that it’s all awfully hilarious to them as they feel and know that these stoic truths are lost on those yet to accept that all’s gone to shit, yes, even in your ivory towers, your vaults and penthouses and corporation headquarters; there its only letting itself take a bit longer to be known, but chaos’ll come, so you might as well wise up and enjoy it.

Death Grips, The Money Store (2012) Rather a lot to take in upon first hearing. Immediately plainly a refinement of the aesthetic put forth on Exmilitary but now with an entire studio to run around in these kids have wrought havoc on Mr. and Mrs. White’s 8-track ideal—couldn’t come up with a more fitting antithesis to De Stijl (and Mondrian’s, too) if you let the industry wallow another decade. So why’s this defunct Detroit duo in the mind?—cos where are the guitars, man? Every beat’s packed to near bursting with all manner of production craftsmanships (or gimmickries if you see it that way), MC Ride’s tripping bars overlaid—too much matter, really, to be dealt with on the first wave. But you appreciate the covenant this sonic assault bespeaks—this hip-hop New Complexity has room only to deepen from here. So steep in it, and by about round 3 or 4 (depending on how acute your lobes are) you’ll have undergone some sort of desensitisation to this violence in noise—and now you’re in a place to prophesy. Despite Ride’s barely discernible delivery (except on the eponymous hooks to nearly all 13) the ‘point’ of it all somehow gets itself across—it is, unlike the music itself, not very complex, and mainly involves embarrassing amounts of non-specifically directed anger. Dare I say it, there’s no filler on this, it’s a wild enjoyable ride and a happy side-effect to the maximalist production is there’ll always be something to tickle the ear. And when the hooks do come its a righteous clarifying of the chaos that would eventually get old if it stood alone. Plus, theorists can invoke an unholy marriage by ascribing some mutant Bartókian arch form: “Get Got” and “Hacker” as symmetrical sandwiching allegros, “Double Helix” as Nachtmusik? 

Ornette Coleman, The Shape of Jazz to Come (1959) If you’re hearing these albums in the same order I did you’ll get the same shock upon flicking on what you expect to be Coleman’s near-incomprehensible emancipated bebop and instead hearing a tune that’s actually perfectly singable, and moreover, one that you actually know—how’s that? Must be covering some standard which has somehow osmosed itself into your consciousness but—look it up, in fact its a Coleman original! And so where have you heard it before? Ah: Zorn. It seems then that those slurring drunkard articulations on the head to “Lonely Woman” embodied one of the few Coleman melodies (if not the only) that stuck itself to the underbelly of the hard bop canon—shape of jazz to come, indeed. But it wasn’t so much the heads that would (or were, at least, intended to) mould future generations—rather what lay in between: the emancipation of melody, yes, forget keys, forget harmonic structure, and while you’re at it throw your modal jazz out the window. I’ve always felt ‘harmolodics’ to be a poor term because really it ought to be just melody, that element of music which Coleman raised to the highest pedestal; melody alone, melody a priori. But as a pseudo-theoretic buzzword it does just fine.

John Coltrane, Offering: Live at Temple University (1966) First thing you notice is Coltrane’s uncomfortably, blatantly in the fore. There’s a need to turn it up so you can make out the other activity and by the time you’ve done so Trane’s tenor’ll be blaring out so loud it’s like he’s right by you. But the mixing seems to get more favourable as the numbers progress—or maybe you just adjust. Yes, revisiting, he’s up in your grill but not to intimidate. He’s there to send a very personal message. This was, after all, his penultimate live recording before he quit the grid in July of ‘67. He was getting close to something, and to tell it, he’s gotta get close to you. In the old quartet he might’ve had trouble getting so spiritual. You get the feeling that the mystic tendencies were more at home in this more familial second ensemble. There’s a communion of sorts. And technically they’re equally fine: Alice takes up right where McCoy Tyner left off and actually on her solos she’s more in line with her husband’s ‘sheets’ than her predecessor, part of the reason why the closer on this has replaced what used to be my favourite “My Favorite Things”: Belgium ‘65, check it here. And this is no mean feat as Tyner’s comping/the extended solo on that one’s where quartal harmony came of age, or at least in my experience. The opening to the Offering take’s also a real rarity: double bass goes at taut catgut like anything but cool. We’ve heard with what’s now alarming regularity the rhythm section’s other two rip loose free-form and its high time the other essential’s had a stake in the fun. But now let’s discuss what assures Live at Temple a place in legend. Drop in somewhere about halfway through “Leo”. Trane’s just finished up screaming outta his tenor. Rashied Ali’s going at it now, wild thing on the kit like a hurricane, whirling, whirling, an Almighty gnashing of teeth on calf hide for six or so minutes when all a sudden Trane comes—or is it Pharaoh?—some fella a-moanin’ like a lunatic at the rapture; Obeah Man, elder. Some sole black voice monophonic, like plainchant only infinitely more ancient. What, or whom, are they invoking? Seems they’re their own demons—that, or they’re oracles, come to preach the word in sonic semiotic, purveyors of the sound and the fury.

Food For Animals, Belly (2008) These D.C. fellas put out a remarkably consistent aesthetic and with more personality than you might expect from hip-hop in the industrial vein. That is, what you might expect is: An incoherent, arbitrary mish-mash of overvolted sawtooths, saturated found noise, and other cheap effects; at heart no more than a glorified dubstep. That’s where Christgau was coming from with Death Grips as “Skrillex-as-Unabomber or Skrillex-sans-fun”. But this, like Hill’s trio, is undeserving of such scoffing critique. Any incoherence (and sure, there’s plenty) is but part of a higher level narrative that itself is coherent. Hear it like timbre composition—argument between textures drives the musical conflict. Timbre variation dictates form. And sure, the jargon’s a little dry so let’s talk application: lyrically “Belly Kids” retells the ubiquitous suburbian nostalgia that we also found on the Arcade Fire’s Grammy laureate. As words cast mind’s eye far back, music evokes some sort of youth decay in reverse; the same motion but in sonic terms. The opening’s the hardest the beats ever get on this. Only one direction to go from there. So we ease up and ease up, harshness tempering at each fresh verse, vector very clear, then arrival at the final lines, delivered nude, final lines and the final element: the word. And you know them because they’re self-same to those that were spoken in the apocalyptic beginning. Brahms would be proud. A similar clarification but more on the scale of the Tristan resolution occurs between “Maryland Slang” and “Tween Fantasy” in which the former’s verse is resurrected (Mahler would be proud) before the latter’s velvet shimmering manifold, a thousand tiny chimes in a gentle breeze. And there are many more gems to be found in this urban gizzard (hints: “Shhhy” sample, preprise/main event) but I’ve written enough already.

[camillemontespan]

this heavy crown: part one [drake x mc]

I wrote a prompt called  ‘Moments That Could Be’ and thought the little story  at the end of that prompt, ‘The Kiss’ would make an interesting short series with Camille marrying Liam, while still being love with Drake. I never had my MC marry Liam in the game, so this is new territory for me, especially since I’m a Drake fan! Just know that  this doesn’t affect any of the fics I’ve written about them so far. This is just a stand alone series. (I have copied and pasted ‘The Kiss’ for the first section as I feel this is a good introduction).  Be warned, this has a lot of angst. So. much. angst. 

@jovialyouthmusic @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @tacohead13 @thequeenofcronuts @katedrakeohd @moonlightgem7 @be-still-my-aching-heart @pug-bitch

The party toasted the King’s future and the future of Cordonia. As more champagne was popped, the waiters brought out more canapes which Drake refused. He hated tiny finger food. He was sat beside Maxwell and Hana who were playing a card game, which Maxwell was losing badly in. The party had gone on into the wee hours and Drake was entertaining himself by drinking more whiskey than was necessary. He needed to. Anything to get through this.

He glanced up and watched King Liam gently tuck a lock of Camille’s hair behind her ear. Sat the top table, dressed in her white gown and her veil, Camille was a beautiful bride. Drake watched as she laughed at something Liam whispered in her ear and she reached out to steal another slice of wedding cake.

It should have been me up there, Drake thought then regretted that it had even passed in his mind. His stomach twisted as he watched the woman he loved be fed cake by his best friend. This was too much. Standing up abruptly, he threw his napkin down and left Hana and Maxwell at the table. They both stared after him, confused. Drake had kept his feelings to himself the past few months. Well, to most people. He had told Camille how he felt and she had felt the same. But they had both agreed, a month ago, that she would stay in the competition. If Liam chose her, she would yes to being his wife. To being the new Queen of Cordonia. They didn’t want to hurt him.

He rushed out of the palace and down the steps. He needed air. He needed to get away from royalty and opulence and romance for just one night. Tugging at his bow tie, he loosened it and then continued to run away from the palace.

Drake didn’t hear the sound of her heels running after him until he felt her hand pull his arm back. ‘Drake, wait!’

Camille tried to pull him around to her but he couldn’t face her. He didn’t want to see her beautiful face crowned by her veil. ‘Drake, please,’ she murmured. Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked up at him. He averted his eyes and tried to push her away but she held on. ‘Leave me alone,’ he whispered. ‘This is too hard. I’m so fucking in love with you and I have to watch you be with him instead.’

Without a sound, she reached up and gently pulled his face down to hers. To his shock, her lips softly met his. Once he registered what was happening, he reached his hands to wrap around her back, holding her in close as they kissed. They both tasted salt water as their tears mixed together. He wished he could keep her there forever. But she wasn’t his. She could have been his but he let her go. As they parted, Camille looked into his eyes. She wasn’t a happy, glowing bride anymore. ‘I’m sorry I’ve made you unhappy. You looked happy at the table. I’ve ruined it,’ he whispered. She shook her head. ‘I put on a good performance, Drake. I’m just a really good actress.’ 

She squeezed his hand and tore her eyes away from him regretfully. ‘I’m still in love with you...’ she whispered, before running back towards the palace, her veil blowing behind her. Drake watched her go. He wasn’t going back. He needed to go back to his room, drink a bottle of whiskey and leave this night behind him. 

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

Camille woke up to the feel of Liam spooning her. She breathed out and tried to shake off the claustrophobic feeling. The feeling that this didn’t feel right. The feeling that she wanted another certain man wrapped around her instead. 

Camille cared for Liam, yes. He was a good friend and he always treated her with kindness. Whenever he smiled, his eyes crinkled up and he had laughter lines; he was a genuinely good person. But he wasn’t the one she could see herself being with. However, her romantic life hadn’t panned out the way she desperately wanted and she reminded herself, probably for the hundreth time, that this had been her choice. She could have turned down his proposal but she said yes. Drake and Camille had agreed that they couldn’t hurt him and that their affair was just that. An affair. A ‘passionate, declarations of love’ affair but an affair nonetheless. 

She slowly managed to get out from under his arms and wrapped her bathrobe around her. Opening the terrace doors, she let herself out to survey her new kingdom. I’m a queen now, she thought. This is so surreal.  

They had returned from their honeymoon last night; their wedding party had been a week ago. She hadn’t seen Drake since that night, when she ran after him and he was crying, telling her that he couldn’t watch her be married to Liam. Camille felt an ache in her chest but she pushed it down. 

The honeymoon itself had been lovely. They had travelled to Venice and stayed in a beautiful villa on the water. Liam had planned their itinerary and he took lots of photos; mainly of her. Camille knew he would be a good husband. He would be loving, kind, loyal. But it didn’t stop her from picturing Drake’s face when Liam made love to her and it still didn’t stop her from picturing Drake’s face when she had an orgasm. Imagining that it was Drake who was touching her was the way Camille dealt with sleeping with Liam. Camille felt her face flush with shame at the thought and she sat down at the table, which already had a jug of fresh orange juice and a tray of pastries laid out for them. Their servants woke up at the crack of dawn and were silent in their work. 

‘Hey beautiful.’ She looked up and saw Liam up and dressed in smart trousers and a shirt. ‘You’re up early.’

Camille smiled. ‘You’re dressed early. What are you doing today?’

He poured himself a glass of juice and sat down opposite her. ‘I’ve got meetings. Since we’ve just got back from our honeymoon, there’s a lot to catch up on. But we will be together at 1pm for the official presentation of us, the king and queen. Hana, Olivia, Maxwell, Bertrand... everyone should be there.’

‘Drake?’ Camille asked, a bit too quickly. Liam didn’t notice. ‘Drake will show face. He can’t not say congratulations to the new Queen of Cordonia, can he?’

Camille nodded and looked out at the view of the kingdom. So Liam didn’t know.  Camille and Drake’s secret was safe. After months of them sneaking around, Drake had been certain that they would have been found out but thank God.  ‘I’m meeting with Regina now to discuss what we’ve missed, so I’ll see you later,’ Liam said, leaning down to kiss her. He left the terrace and Camille tried to push down the feeling of dread about her day. To be introduced as Queen in front of Drake... she didn’t want to see his face.

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

Hana helped fix Camille’s hair into place and stood back to admire her handiwork. Camille’s dark hair was teased into a fishtail plait and she wore a silk gold off-shoulder dress. ‘You look amazing, Camille!’ Hana said happily, clapping her hands in excitement. Camille smiled and slid a gold Chopard gobstopper ring on her finger. 

Liam entered the room and stopped in his tracks. ‘Wow.. you look incredible,’ he told her, looking her up and down. He was wearing official regalia and looked every inch a King. ‘Are you ready to meet your court?’

Camille nodded, exhaling nervously. Hana squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll celebrate with champagne after!’ She gave Liam a wink and left the couple to make their way to the Throne Room.

The Throne Room. Camille had always admired the beautiful architecture of this room, with its domed ceilings, arches and the gold statues of angels adorning the walls. It looked like a cathedral but in miniature. Now, as she held Liam’s arm and moved towards the Throne Room, she couldn’t help but feel nervous about entering. ‘Ready?’ Liam asked, giving her an encouraging smile. Camille nodded silently and took a breath. 

‘May we present the King and Queen of Cordonia!’ 

The court applauded as Liam and Camille entered the Throne Room. Camille spotted Bertrand who gave her a uncharacteristic wink. Maxwell and Hana were jumping up and down with excitement. Olivia curtseyed; she and Camille were friends now which was a relief. For a while, Camille thought Olivia would be her enemy. Madeleine clapped but her eyes were cold.

Camille couldn’t see Drake. Maybe he hadn’t come to the presentation after all. She didn’t blame him if he didn’t.

Liam and Camille stopped before the thrones. Both thrones were gilded. Camille swallowed, terrified. ‘Go on, Camille. Let’s sit,’ Liam whispered. She nodded and made her way up the marble steps to her throne. Slowly, she turned to face the court and they watched with bated breath as she sat down. Regina stepped forward holding an ornate, silver crown decorated with diamonds and standing behind Camille, she announced clearly, ‘The new Queen of Cordonia!’ She slowly placed the crown on top of Camille’s head and it was at that moment that Camille finally saw Drake. 

He was standing near the corner and his eyes said it all. They were filled with anguish as he watched her. All of a sudden, the crown on Camille’s head felt heavy. It was as if she had a weight on top of her and it was pushing her down into her seat, keeping her in place. She took a breath but it came out haggered; nobody heard as they applauded and cheered.  As she watched Drake, he mouthed, I love you. 

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

After she toasted champagne with Hana, was caught in a bear hug by Maxwell, had her crown admired by Olivia, was passive aggressively insulted by Madeleine and given courtly advice by Bertrand, Camille finally managed to get outside for fresh air.  She stood before the fountain and studied her reflection in the water. She looked regal; powerful with the crown on her head. 

‘Montespan.’

Her heart jumped and she turned around to see Drake standing behind her. She smiled weakly, her eyes filling with tears. His eyes widened in alarm and he rushed forward to hold her in his arms. ‘Shhh, it’s okay honey,’ he whispered, holding her close. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook, holding onto him for dear life. ‘This crown feels so heavy,’ she choked out. Drake closed his eyes, trying to think of something to say that would help her, make her feel better. But how could he when he felt so hopeless too? 

‘He is a good husband, Drake,’ she whispered, looking up at him now. He gently wiped her tears away from her face. ‘He is kind and gentle and he loves me. But I just don’t love him in that way.’

‘You will grow to love him,’ Drake assured her, though the thought filled him with jealousy. ‘Liam is a good man, you couldn’t find a better husband.’

She blanched at his words. ‘I think I could..’

Drake swallowed and tried to ignore what she meant. He exhaled. ‘He loves you, Camille.’

‘You love me.’

‘I do.’

They stared at each other, their eyes locked.  In a moment, Drake stepped forward and pulled her to him, their lips meeting in heated desperation. Camille tugged on his bottom lip and Drake groaned. God, he wanted her. He wanted to take her back to his room, undress her, take that heavy crown off her head and discard it, and feel her body against his. He wanted to feel her skin under his, her fingernails scratching into his back and he wanted to tell her that he loved her. 

Drake pulled away, breathing heavily. Camille’s cheeks were flushed. ‘We have to stop doing this,’ Drake managed to say, his eyes wild. ‘We could get caught. We’re torturing ourselves here. Think about Liam.’

Camille clenched her fists. ‘I never think about Liam. Do you know that when he is with me in bed, I imagine your face?’ 

Drake paled. ‘I don’t want to think of you two together in bed.’

‘This is my life now, Drake. I don’t feel complete anymore. I imagine you in those moments because your face gets me through it. I feel ashamed. He is such a good man and I am imagining his best friend.’

Drake closed his eyes and wished she would stop talking. Everything she was saying was torture. Yet he wanted her to still want him. He was slightly relieved that she hadn’t forgotten him. But he knew he had to let her go. He had to for Liam. 

‘Camille, I love you,’ he told her. ‘I always will. But while you are married to him, we can’t be together.’ 

Camille bit her lip and studied him. ‘What if... what if we still met in secret?’

‘Too risky,’ he replied. ‘Too selfish.’

‘You still want us to be together though,’ she answered defiantly. Drake sighed. She knew him well. ‘I do.’

She stepped forward and roamed her hands across his chest. Her eyes looked deep into his and his breath caught as he took her in. He loved this woman. But could he risk his whole friendship with Liam just to be with her? Could he stab him in the back? Could Drake live with himself if he met her in secret and felt her skin against his and made her feel complete again?

As she kissed him again, Drake knew the answer. 

[undyinghappinessblog]

Oh Hi!

Oh hey. Haha fuck I sound like my 6 year old self...”Oh hey diary! How are you? Sorry I havent written in a while..” But....yeah. I haven’t. So I think I have quite a few things to catch myself up on. 

I am not really sure if the reason I have’nt been writing. It think its a combination of being really busy (I moved, my cousin got married, my grandma Betty passed away, Ive been working two jobs pretty consistently, I’m still in acting classes, I’m trying to find a new agent) mixed with the fact that I am seeing a therapist once a week, so I guess a lot of the things that I would find myself writing about on here are being worked out with a professional in the real world. 

The trouble with being so busy, is everything kind of tends to feel like its coming at you at a warped hyper speed, you know? Like I feel like a lot of the time I dont have the luxury or the time to really process anything or be in the present moment because I’m too busy worrying about what needs to be done, or I am working....Its something that I have been trying to work on in therapy. I am also meditating before I go to sleep at night-trying to be present and also boost my self confidence. And when I finally DO have a minute to process things, I find myself being really tired and needing to lie down and close my eyes. Its really hard to find that time for me, and I am learning more and more that that time is something that I really need to find a way to prioritize. Finding time to just be with myself and not be distracted by thoughts of what I ‘should’ be doing or what I need to do in the next couple of days, you know? 

I also find myself getting a little sad and scared that I am too busy worrying and stressing and working myself so hard that I am missing out on moments that are more important...Like genuine time with myself or my friends. Really enjoying time in the moment with little things like the sun, blue skies, leaves blowing in the wind, reading a book, painting, writing, etc. 

Anyway..I guess that was just a really long winded way of me saying ‘I have been really busy’. 

So...I’ll just give a quick recap of the past couple of months. 

Okay, so I thiiiiiink I wrote about working on ‘Sacred Lies’ on my last post? But just in case, I will give a quick little refresher. So I got cast as an SOC principle character on a TV show about a cult...and my roommate Daniel actually got cast too, so it was really nice to have a carpool buddy and someone that I could talk to on set. But it turned out that I was actually okay on my own too. The cast was really nice and I ended up making some pretty cool friends with a couple of them. 

Its been prettttyyyy much dead for me since then though. So in terms of acting, I have been unemployed since April. And I knooowwww that I should feel liucky for the opportunity-AND I DO!!!. Its just, I am starting to feel a little antsy...and wanting to get back on something...anything!! I’ve said it many times before, but its really hard for a woman to navigate through this industry. And I’m not even a fuckin minority- I know I have white privelage, and I feel shitty saying this, but....Its been really tough for me as a woman in this industry in the past few months, man. 

Like. I am just going to rant here for a sec. Since Sacred Lies, Daniel has booked 3 more shows and has gone down to LA twice to see casting directors and shit. And I have had....maaayybe 3 auditions? I wanna say 2 of them were one liners. What reaaallllyyyy bothers me is that I can guarantee that these booking have NOTHING to do with his talent, or his resume (think I have spoken about his weird act-y voice and his horrible, narcissistic attitude). It all has to do with the fact that he is a tall, young looking white guy. THATS IT. 

The thing I dont understand about hollywood is this. They FINALLY make these HUGE blockbuster films starring women and people of colour like ‘Wonder Woman’ and ‘Black Panther’ and ‘Crazy Rich Asians’ and they all make MAAAADDD bank. They are so well received that they break box office records. Which absolutely makes sense because there are people who are FINALLY feeling represented and like they ACTUALLY see themselves in the characters on screen. But they still make so many films that have a 1. pro-dominantly white cast and 2. Most of the main characters are played by WHITE MEN. Like...How many Hollywood Rom-Coms have cast someone who identifies as First Nations as a lead? Someone who identifies as Middle Eastern? Muslim? Asian? Lesbian? Trans? Non-Binary? Truthfully, there are maaannny things about the injustices in this industry that I am not even aware of, and I could be overstepping my boundaries by saying all of this, but man. If I am feeling unrepresented and angry as a white woman, I cannot even IMAGINE how angry many of the minorities feel. Fuck it makes me so angry man.  Honestly, I could talk about this for hours until my head blows up or I throw my fucking computer across the room, so I am just going to stop there by saying this. More people of colour need to be cast (especially First Nations actors!!), more women need to be given larger roles and more women need to write, direct, produce, AD, edit, sound design-every single role in film needs more women. Period. 

Okay moving on. My cousin Alex got married this summer! Fuck that was emotional. The whole experience was just so lovely and happy and so much fun. She was married on the lake that we grew up spending our summers on. There was a lot of smoke from forest fires, but it was still so beautiful. Our family was there and it was amazing. I was Maid of Honour (My sister was supposed to be there as Co-maid of honour with me, but she was at school already, down in the states, so she couldn't be there.) and I was also the MC. I was really stressed about it at first, but once I had a few drinks in me, I felt better and had alot of fun (I think the guests had fun too...unless they were all just pretending to laugh at all of my jokes...). I gotta say though, I am not a huge fan of her husband. He’s not friendly, very needy and relies on her too much and their relationship reminded me a lot of what my parent’s looked like when I was growing up. Plus his family is fuckin trash (His bother and his brother’s girlfriend ended up getting in a huuggeee fight the night before the wedding and the cops were called, so Alex’s husband ended up calling her and asking her to come get her...) Anyway. Their relationship isn't any of my business...and as hard as it is to see someone I love be married to someone I dont particularly like or respect, I gotta let it be and hope for the best for her. 

My grandma Betty also recently passed. Which was very sad. I’ve experienced death and loss before, but it was when I was younger. This was the first time that I experienced death as an adult. When I think about how my sister and I got through what we did when we were kids, I just...I dont know how in the hell we did it. Becuase my grandma had dementia, and was very unwell and not herself, when I got the call, I was almost relieved. Obviously I was very sad. But I also felt strangely grateful for the time that I had with her and I also felt very lucky to have someone like her watching out over me. Like I FINALLY had someone in my corner. I still cant believe that she's gone. Saying that she ‘passed away’ is still so strange to say. 

Anyway...thats pretty much it. Lots of life happened in the past couple of months. Lots of crying, anxiety, laughs, reminiscing, hoping, meditating, painting, more crying, more anxiety...just lots of life man. 

I gotta say though, instead of ending this on a note of desperately hoping for ‘something good to happen’ by masking it with “manifesting”, I think I’m going to end it by saying this instead. 

I am going to take better care of myself. And be kinder to myself. I think that something good will come out of that regardless. Whether it be through acting or just my relationship with myself. For once in my life, I am going to take care of myself. Everything else comes secondary (at least for now) and will happen as its supposed to, according to the universe. 

And by saying that, by putting myself first, I think everything I have ever wanted for myself will come when its ready and in a healthier and more welcomed way. 

Okay. Thanks.