#“yes I’d like a prime minister who doesn’t want to be one please

[adragonprinceswhore]

“Perhaps those who strive for it are the least suited to wear it?”

So… Rhaenyra?

[ririkutai]

Saeran AE Good Ending Choice Walkthrough

Hello everyone! I’ve decided to share the walkthrough on Tumblr as well, because I received a message about reddit being blocked in some countries! I wasn’t aware! So here! Cheers!

I've since edited the guide to include some the Sad Endings, Bad Endings, Normal Ending, as well as the good ending. Currently this guide sits at 9/10 total endings for Saeran's AE. I've included chat times, save locations, as well as choices. If anyone complies the guide and shares it elsewhere, I'd appreciate a shoutout as this took some time! Feel free to @me anywhere as Ririkutai <3

The way to get Bad Ending 1 is by taking Rika's side and not wanting to leave Saeran's side. The trigger lies somewhere between day 2-3, but I'm uncertain of the specifics.

Cheers!

Day 1:

There are two sad endings on this day!

SAVE HERE! DON'T DO ANYTHING YET!

Time: 00:00 x2

Strange Meeting

· I’ll bring Saeran with me for the meeting

· Let’s save that part until Saeyoung returns

· Saeyoung owns all the rights

· Please be safe, Saeyoung

· I have a bad feeling about this

· Do you think the leader of Mint Eye is related to this?

· Did we, Saeran?

· Saeran, my sweet

· But first, we should discuss how to save…

· Is V still gone?

· Something’s fishy

· Make sure you check V’s luggage!

· Be careful on your way!

· We should keep our eye on V

· Let’s stay alert, Jaehee

· For some reason, I’m kind of uneasy

· What are you doing right now?

· I’m nervous, too

· I hope we can take plenty of pictures in the future

· I love you, too

Story Mode:

· Where is V?

· We never fight. I trust Saeran (Saeran Heart)

· Well, I did talk a lot

· Maybe it is her…

· I know it feels weird, but you must free yourself from your past

· Saeran, don’t you think we should tell them?

· What are you thinking?

· Is there anything you know about Saeyoung’s whereabouts?

· Try holding breath just a bit longer

· V… Why are you doing this?

Please Wake Up

No choices

Story Mode:

· Wake up

· Try to wake up

· Saeran

· I held my breath, like you told me

· I’ll help you

NOTE RELOAD THE PREVIOUS SAVE AND Select all options that aren't doubtful, don't hold your breath like Saeran suggests, fall like everyone else, and be sure not to move in the hospital. This triggers Sad Ending 1

Time: 9:45

Can We Trust Him?

· I don’t think I can rest, when I…

· I’m kind of tired…

· By the way, is there something wrong with the…

· Was it a hacker!?

· Could it be the secret agency...?

· Does that mean we need to be careful…?

· Traitor (Saeran heart)

· So you handed over the information of this…

· What did you expect? You tricked us.

· Prove to us that Saeyoung…

· And you are trying to pull Saeran into danger (Saeran heart)

· Are you talking about Rika?

· No! He will never do that! (Saeran heart)

· He’s gone again | (Selecting, "Maybe he really wants to help you." Gives a V heart, but I'm uncertain how it affects the rest of the route)

· But you can’t let yourself get into this (Saeran heart)

· I’ll be waiting, my love (Saeran heart)

Time: 11:23

Did She Change?

· Come on out, hacker! Fight me! | (Selecting "Go away, V!" Gives you a Saeran heart, but I'm uncertain how it affects the route)

· Oh, a bad guy! Time to say hi

· He knew we won’t ever trust him again

· Are you still obsessed with Saeran?

· And you’ve done horrible things to Saeran

· And you expect me to believe that?

· Sounds like you are inviting him into a trap | (Selecting "I must admit, you are persistent." Gives you a V heart, but I'm uncertain how it affects the route)

· You really don’t give up do you?

· Fact remains that you are far from normal (Saeran heart)

· No! Stay away! (Saeran heart)

Story Mode:

· The question is whether you should make... (Saeran heart)

· So, are you going to save Saeyoung?

Time: 16:05

Rika and V’s Reunion

· Rika! You can’t stop our love!

· Are you here to tell Saeran to leave again?

· Do you have any idea how bad she hurt Saeran? (Saeran heart)

· You should first explain about Rika | (Selecting "How is Saeyoung?" gives you a Saeyoung heart, uncertain how it affects the route.)

· Do you know Saeran does not have a family picture…

· But Rika's standing is very different from... (Saeran heart)

· But what about you? What about your life? (V heart)

· You do need balance for a relationship as well

· Are we witnessing the birth of a new savior...? (Saeran heart)

· It’s the prime minister isn’t it? | (Selecting "Could it be the agency?" gives you a V heart.)

· We will save everyone!

· There’s no doubt V, Rika, and the prime…

· Yay! Let’s talks! Just the two of us!

Time: 17:57

Rika’s Selfish Happiness

· What are you plotting with…

· I will go with whatever Saeran chooses (Saeran heart)

· He might leave by the time the rest of RFA…

· But we are always together (Saeran heart)

· Are you sure you have reunited with V?

· So nobody ever saved V (V heart)

· Maybe you wanted people to recognize you and tell you...

· That's good, but... V looked desolate

· What do you really want to become?

· Cough, cough calories

Time: 19:11

Secure Chat Just for Us

· Hey, we’re back

· Good job. Now lets use this room…

· What? Doesn’t that mean our enemies are huge?

· Of course you are… We have four bad guys…

· That's right! Let's go save Saeyoung! (Saeran heart)

· Then let’s get going! (Saeran heart)

SAVE AFTER THIS CHATROOM

Story Mode

· What if your trauma returns? (Saeran heart) | (Both options give a heart though!)

· I remember both of them (Saeran heart) | (Both options give a heart still!)

· I love you, Saeran

· This might turn out to be reckless (Saeran heart) | (Both options give a heart. This boi is full of love)

NOTE RELOAD YOUR PREVIOUS SAVE AFTER SECURE CHAT JUST FOR US And select "Then let's leave. Let's leave everything, instead of saving Saeyoung.", "Yes.", "I'll be fine. I want to be happy with you. That's all I'm asking for." To receive Sad Ending 2

Time: 20:44

Different Perspective on the Past

· Rika… You’re back

· I’m not sure if this is the best time…

· Do you remember what it was like back then?

· Were you happy even without Saeyoung?

· I guess you did miss her. You didn’t separate willingly… (Saeran heart)

· Family is not something you can replace like objects...

· Now I’ll be your family (Saeran heart)

· You’ll be a great parent (Saeran heart)

· Alike? How?

· You are still obsessed with him?

· Saeran is not like you (Saeran heart)

· It feels like you’re inviting us into a trap

· She might make you her prisoner…

· Can’t we stay a bit longer?

· Okay

Story Mode

· Don’t you think we should head straight to this…

· V provided his apartment to them?

· V would’ve thought everything by himself…

· It’s the agency!

Time: 21:56

Unbelievable Peaceful Chit-Chat

· V? What brings you back here?

· How come you own that place?

· Did you get scammed by any chance?

· I’d thought you plotted it

· I think it’s fake news

· But the prime minister and the agency are attacking..

· Jumin will be beyond shocked (Jumin heart)

· That’s where the root of all evil…

· You brought someone else to that apartment?

· I’m so glad Jumin did not turn out like…

· A dark magician!

· Do you think this news will be highly detrimental…?

· It’s not a good thing to play deaf to what you…

· Can’t you give me one last clue…

· If only Jumin…

· One day you will pay

Story Mode

· What is this place?

Time: 23:05

The Most Important Thing

· Saeran? You’re gone

· I’m fine. When I’m with you, my joy… (Saeran heart)

· Why not break through the windows?

· What do you think will happen to us… (Saeran heart)

· I hope by tomorrow at least one…

· Regardless of the truth…

· Do you think the other members of RFA…

· They’d be shocked mostly by the fact…

· But I chose to come with you (Saeran heart)

· Yes. Because we will never stop loving… (Saeran heart)

· You are also important to me, Saeran (Saeran)

· Please be safe, my darling (Saeran)

Story Mode

No Choices

Day 2:

There are two Sad Endings on this day

Time: 00:23

Unexpected Guest

· Saeyoung?!

· How did you get in here?

· Saeran! We have an intruder!

· Let’s find out what we can from him!

· Are you here to hack this room…

· Do you know Saeyoung?

· Charlie the 3rd?

· Is Saeyoung safe?

· Is Saeyoung in mortal danger?

· Are you going to tell the agency…

· Tell us something! Anything is fine!

· I think you were

· No! Please, help us! (Saeran heart)

· My heart breaks whenever I think (Saeran Heart)

· And you will make that promise (Saeran heart)

· Are you telling him to instead save himself?

· But we don’t want to spend the rest of our lives…

· Are you going to report everything from this…

· But let’s not give up (Saeran heart)

· No, I’m gonna wait for you! (Saeran heart)

Story Mode

No Choices

SAVE AFTER THIS STORY MODE

Time: 2:22

How to Use Vanderwood

· Is that why you wanted us to log in…

· I don’t think that guy is very thorough…

· Vanderwood betrayed the agency! Like this? (Saeran heart)

· What if he’s stupid? What if he…

· I know you said that because you care… (Saeran heart)

· That’s right. He might help us once he… (Saeran heart)

· And it was all because Rika brainwashed…

· I’m sure Saeyoung was also manipulated by false information (Saeyoung heart)

· It must have been awful after you… (Saeran heart)

· Back then you were not ready to…

· I’m also getting this strong feeling.. (Saeran heart)

· I also had a feeling they…

· Please help us once, Vanderwood! I know… (Saeran heart)

· And a good expectation will manifest… (Saeran heart)

· Please!!! (Saeran heart)

· Nah, you’re the only one who thinks…

· Yeah, and now let’s get busy with our…

Time: 8:00

Zen is Awake!

· Zen!! Are you awake??

· I’m just grateful you are awake

· Maybe Saeran and I shouldn’t have left (Saeran heart)

· Could you please report it to the media?

· That’s right! Bring it on… (Zen heart)

· Not yet… It might be a trap

· It turned out the agency is…

· Don’t be disappointed with yourself

· Thanks for trying to look

· Okay. Now we are going to save…

SAVE AFTER THIS CHATROOM

Story Mode

· Yeah. Are you?

· Yes. I am not letting you go by yourself

· Are you the boss…

· We were told you will be in mortal danger…

· What kind of deal did you…

· You mean you’ll send them to…

· You want them to live caged lives…

· Saeyoung… You’re sacrificing yourself… (Saeyoung heart)

· But we cannot leave you here, Saeyoung

· We don’t have a choice. There’s nothing we can do…

NOTE RELOAD YOUR SAVE AFTER ZEN IS AWAKE And select: "This seems familiar...", "You can go ahead...", and "Okay." To receive Sad Ending 3.

Time: 9:45

Vanderwood’s Suggestion

· Vanderwood?

· Are you here to help us?

· How do we know this isn’t a trap?

· Your agency is a nightmare

· But won’t you get in trouble…

Story Mode

· What do we do now?

· But he just won’t care for himself

· Do you think we can trust Vanderwood?

· Let’s do that. For some reason I have…

· Let's put our faith in him. We're not leaving...

Time: 11:37

Saeyoung is with Rika

· Why are you here?

· Is it because you were scared…

· He wanted to save his brother

· You kidnapped Saeyoung!?

· Poor Saeyoung… He was manipulated (Saeyoung heart)

· I will never forgive the agency

· But the prime minister might…

· What drug?

Story Mode

· Saeyoung told the agency about the top secret…

· Are you sure we can trust you?

· Is it to put him to sleep?

· I have to be away from Saeran? I…

· Why would you do that? That’s exactly what happens in…

· I’m scared…

· Why don’t’ we go back to the hospital and… (Saeran heart)

· Why don’t we go back to C&R and…

· …No. We’re in this together (Saeran heart)

· I'm going to keep you safe, Saeran

Time: 13:15

Jumin Han is Here

· Rika has Saeyoung.

· Sorry. I can’t tell you (Jumin heart)

· Wow! I knew you’d be fit! (Zen heart)

· I bet you felt betrayed

· On a scale of 0 to 10

· Is your father really related to

· You mean you might lose..

· He didn’t betray us. He’s become his father’s… (Saeyoung heart)

· Did you hear anything from Saeran?

· What’s your secret?

· But you must have an emergency plan..

· I understand… You have lost…

· But if you put yourself in his shoes

· Let me know once you hear something

NOTE RELOAD AFTER THE STORY MODE FOLLOWING UNEXPECTED GUEST, AND SELECT ALL OPTIONS THAT INSULT/DOUBT VANDERWOOD. Do not agree to let Vanderwood help you. Do this to receive Sad Ending 4

Story Mode

· Where is Saeran right now?

· What do you mean, you lost the other…

· Why did you bring me here?

· You tricked me! (Saeran heart)

Time: 15:33

Vanderwood in Trouble

· You tricked me! (Saeran heart)

· Whose side are you on?

· Couldn’t you let both of us go?

· What do you mean?

· What happens if you get…

· Admit it – You’re a nice person

· But it’s adorable… I really want to see (Saeyoung heart)

· You’re returning the phone?

· Run and survive!

Story Mode

· I hope Vanderwood will be alright

· Saeran will never give up

· You are simply trying to make your dream… (Saeran heart)

· RFA might expose everything about

Time: 18:00

Rika’s Request

· Jumin, cheer up…

· They’re not coming

· Don’t you feel guilty?

· Yeah, unlike you. (Saeran heart)

· You were a great actress (Saeran heart)

· But do you really need those twins..

· But you cannot decide how they will (Saeran heart)

· I believe Saran will save… (Saeran heart)

· Saeran, if you read this… Don’t ever give up (Saeran heart)

· Just who led Saeyoung to the agency….

· Do you feel anything about RFA…

· Jumin will feel so betrayed (Jumin heart)

· Just because you say sorry… (Saeran heart)

· Saeran… I’m okay. (Saeran heart)

· V… Does that mean I cannot…

· Thank you, V (V heart)

· V… Are you really okay with everything..

Time 19:00

RFA in the Corner

· I’m waiting for Saeran

· You took in that gas again?!

· Maybe it’s a bluff

· Well, it’s not a perfect time for him to chat..

· I feel so bad for the twins…

· The agency is no easy opponent

· And we have no way to prove that we’re the good guys :’(

· That was a very brave…

· No talking on the messenger!

· How is Elizabeth 3rd? (Jumin heart)

· Maybe we should do that…

· We should stay away from…

· Calm down, Zen

· As soon as you do that he’ll be knocked…

· It’s okay. Don’t worry

· Vanderwood?

Story Mode

· Do you think Saeran will be here?

· Look behind

· Okay, okay…

· But you won’t be happy if someone tries to control

· Saeyoung? Are you awake?

· But he needs you

· Tell me.

· But how? You don’t have the right…

· I’m scared. That phone is the only tool you have…

· V, please… You have to help us

· V, you know this isn’t the answer

Time: 21:02

Why We Need Saeran

· You are so cold-blooded!

· Until when will the agency…

· Do you think he’s watching the messenger?

· Are you going to tell him to be silent and come find you?

· He will never give up… Not while he’s alive

· The problem lies with the life in a box (Saeran heart)

· But I don’t want to leave Saeran! (Saeran heart)

· This is too cruel… Finding this place…

· What are you gonna do now?

Story Mode

No choices

Time: 23:13

Did RFA Give Up?

· Did you hear anything from Saeran? (Saeran heart)

· You’ve made an excellent choice (Saeran heart)

· I feel bad for you, Zen (Zen heart)

· Is there really nothing else we can do?

· Please stay healthy, Zen (Zen heart)

· But we need Saeran here first

· :’(

Story Mode

No choices

Day 3:

Time: 1:02

Rika Wants Saeran

· The RFA won’t be using…

· They suffered a lot regarding…

· The agency is the biggest problem,

· You might think it’s protection, but..

· I wonder where Saeran is.. (Saeran heart)

· Maybe later

· No thanks lol

Story Mode

No choices

Time: 6:04

A Ticket Unused

· Saeran!!

· Are you safe?

· Are you really coming here?

· I love you too! (Saeran heart)

· You should be happy with me

· Why would you say that? I’m scared (Saeran heart)

· You’re gonna be here?

· But right now, we have to focus on surviving (Saeran heart)

· Okay… I’ll remember that

· Great! But...

· Okay… I’ll stay awake and wait

Story Mode

· I’ve missed you

· [Munch munch]

· If you keep making fun of me, you’ll pay for it

· No, we deserve to be happy

Time: 8:51

Saeran is Here

· Saeran! But this channel…

· Rika… Please let Saeran in…

· What took you so long?

· I think they’re putting him…

· We should be true to ourselves… (Saeran heart)

· But now RFA has nothing…

· I bet Rika doesn’t want to…

· She’s the seed of all pain!

· Are you avoiding the subject?

· One we reunite, I never want to…

· What freedom?

· You don’t want to repeat your past

· But Rika wouldn’t like that (Saeran heart)

· You hate Rika and V, don’t you? (Saeran heart)

· Okay, if that is what you choose… (Saeran heart)

· I’ll be waiting

Story Mode

· You should trust Saeran

· I’ve missed you

· Can’t you let me stay…

Time: 11:11

Rika’s Return

· Rika, where are you?

· You didn’t torture him, did you?

· Maybe he’s going to hurt them!

· Saeran will cause no harm (Saeran heart)

· I’m going to run with Saeran

· Ugh! I hate what’s happening!

Story Mode

· Do you have to do this?

· Saeran… wake up

· It must have been shocking and sad (Saeran heart)

· Saeran… one day you’ll be free and we’ll be… (Saeran heart)

· Only me and Saeyoung? (Saeran heart)

· What do you mean you’ll

· Why?

· RFA didn’t give up on you

· So did you make it?

· It’s too dangerous (Saeran heart)

· No, let me distract them!

· If Saeyoung brings down the agency..

· ….

· This so sad

Time: 12:48

Weight of the Past

· I’m so sad…

· And you left Saeran like this..?

· Hi, Saeran...

· Can I have your voice instead?

· Did you have to go this far?

· Saeran decide to leave past in the past (Saeran heart)

· It’s a good thing you left Magenta..

· Saeran changed himself. (Saeran heart)

· Trying to repeat a happy past can sometimes serve as greed

· She's not mad is she?

· You should reconsider (Saeran heart)

Story Mode

No choices

Time: 14:07

It Will Hurt, But We Will Be Happy

· Saeran! This is our love channel!

· Do we have to do this? (Saeran heart)

· I have a feeling we will fail (Saeran heart)

· Do you think they’ll get…

· But I don’t think I can live without you (Saeran heart)

· Please don’t leave me

· …

Story Mode

· Sniffle

· She might turn violent

· You can’t decide what Saeran will be like

· You are right… But please don’t die

Time: 16:25

I’ll Have None of This

· It’s a sad night

· Saeran’s will reached my heart (Saeran heart)

· To be honest, you’re…

Story Mode

· Feel what?

· But I want to spend as much time as I can

· I’ll be right back

Time: 17:55

I Promise You Will Be Happy

· Did you guys have an argument?

· I want you, Saeran (Saeran heart)

· Get one for Saeyoung (Seven heart)

· Do you have 2 tickers that will get us out?

· About what?

· No! Saeran is mine! (Saeran heart)

· Do you think you can make it someday?

· I’ll be having fun with Saeran

· What should we do now?

· Are we the only ones that know about this room?

· You mean including Jumin and Zen?

· I’m sad, too… Is there really no other way? (Saeran heart)

· Clouds? Why clouds?

· So your freedom was...

· Can’t you let me stay here? (Saeran heart)

· This is so sad. I don’t want to leave

· I was so happy I could meet them (Saeran heart)

· If you love me, why are you making me sad? (Saeran heart)

· Let’s think about a way to keep you safe?

· Yeah!

Story Mode

No choices

Time: 19:09

Rika is Changing

· I’m glad you released Saeran

· I think you mean tonight (Saeran heart)

· I want to live with just Saeran

· Do you think you can take another betrayal?

· I’m glad things loosened up

· Saeran is my love (Saeran heart)

· Please don’t stab Saeran… (V heart)

· Whatever happens, I hope you’d be happy, Rika

· I think I need someone to cleanse my head…

· Unlike his father

· If that’s what you want, you must one day…

· I’m glad I got to meet all of you

· Rika hurt your eyes…

· How long do you think this happiness will last? (Saeran heart)

· Do you think her hope is real?

· Is it related to Saeran?

· It’s okay. Saeran is strong (Saeran heart)

Story Mode

· Can’t I come with you?

Time: 21:39

The Weight of Truth

· V talked about this secret

· I don’t want to leave him

· Is Saeran okay

· What did you guys talk about?

· The death of their mother?

· Can’t you just stop

· You are pretending to be nice

· You can’t do this to him

· We must find Saeran! (Saeran heart)

· At least you didn’t wait any longer…

· You would still feel painful

· But that does not justify murder

· He didn’t talk to me

· You have until 11

· I’m so disappointed in both of you

· Saeran, are you okay?

Story Mode

· I don’t want to go

· Please don’t do this

· Please tell me you will survive

Time: 23:00

Rescue Plan

· Are we getting started?

· Is it okay to leave Saeran?

· Saeran

· I can't believe I must leave him... (Saeran heart)

· We’ll be back for Saeran, right?

· Saeyoung and Saeran didn’t even get to talk

· The prime minister won’t get to..

· What press conference?

· Thank you everyone

Story Mode

No choices

Day 4:

There are 3 bad endings, and one bad relationship ending on this day. The Normal end and Good end are also on this day.

Time: 2:16

Escape – Success!

· Saeran, I’m okay! (Saeran heart)

· I miss you Saeran

· I’ll be waiting

· I think I’m going to wait for Saeran

SAVE AFTER THIS CHATROOM

If you see "Story Mode: Savior" here then you haven't received enough hearts with Saeran and will trigger his Bad Relationship Ending (I feel this is the ending that brought most of us here, lolol... Help my heart.)

Story Mode

· I’ll go by myself if I have to!

· I’m coming with you!

· I will find Saeran

NOTE RELOAD YOUR SAVE AFTER ESCAPE - SUCCESS! And select: "Looks like there's nothing we can do...", "I think I'll stay here..." To receive Bad Ending 2

Time: 5:55

Vanderwood and Zen’s Argument

· Vanderwood, does this mean...

· You guys have such cute…

· You mean Yoosung?

· Looks like you have a lot of history..

· Come on, let’s be friendly

· Do you think Rika and V are not aware of this?

· I really hope Saeran is safe

· That’s what I heard

· I’m fine with anything as long as..

· I really hope that’d be the case

· Is there really no master key to get us

· I hope Saeran is okay…

· You kicked him out…

· I hope he can find a miracle for us

· Okay…

Story Mode

No choices

Time: 8:24

Saeyoung is Back

· Any news about Saeran?

· Are you gonna sign...

· It was so beautiful (Seven heart)

· I hope Saeran is safe

· Could you tell him I love him? (Two Saeran hearts)

· I’ll do that

· Good luck!

SAVE AFTER THIS CHATROOM

Story Mode

· The security’s changed…

· V, where is Saeran?

· Follow V

NOTE RELOAD YOUR SAVE AFTER SAEYOUNG IS BACK And select "Don't follow V" To receive Bad Ending 3

Time: 10:00

The Last Discussion

· Yoosung, are you okay?

· If you get to see her again…

· Like me and Saeran?

· Welcome Jumin

· We can beat them

· Do you think sweet and sour

· Please, go ahead

· But some people become stars without

· Yeah, but it won’t be easy

· So, Ray…

· Life

· From imprisonment to…

· That we are all responsible

· It’s so good to…

· Thank you for your sermon

· Let’s not lose ourselves

· Whatever it’s about good luck!

· We won’t be lonely if we’re together

· Hopefully I’ll get to…

· He is… He’ll be okay

SAVE AFTER THIS CHATROOM

Story Mode

· Where is Saeran?

· Embrace Rika

· But now you will change

· Go save Saeran

NOTE RELOAD YOUR SAVE AFTER THE LAST DISCUSSION And select "(Don't go save Saeran)" To receive the Normal Ending.

The Final Episode

· Saeran!

· Please stay alive

· He’s gotta be somewhere around here! I can feel it!

· He’s around here. I know

· I must go

· Leave the rest and run

· Saeran, please don’t go

· I love you

· Now you should be happy with me

· Wake up!

· Pity

· Saeran and Saeyoung simply wanted

· Your lonely heart…

· Saeran will forgive you…but

· You will pay

· I’m sure you had something…

· But can’t you see?

· Does survival matter that much?

· You must be so lonely

· We must get him to a hospital!

· Saeran, hang in there!

· Saeyoung, please

· Hopefully Saeran…

· But Saeran forgave him

· Okay. I’ll let you know once he wakes..

· Saeran?

· What is it?

· Are you saying…

· Saejoong Choi!

· Why did you find…

· Did you have a change of...

You’ve made it! Select whatever you like!

[emospritelet]

Manifesto - chapter 10

It's been 84 years...

Last time, Sutherland convinced Belle to join in with a Government consultation. Cue snark and UST

[AO3]

-

Belle stared at Sutherland, her pulse thumping at the base of her throat as she met his eyes. He had that tiny smile on his face, his eyes glinting, and she licked her lips nervously.

“I - I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said lamely, and he pushed upright.

“Well, it is my house,” he said. “After a fashion.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” She closed her eyes, swallowed, and opened them again. “I just meant I didn’t think you’d concern yourself with a consultation, that’s all. I - I thought it might be one of your Ministers.”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t,” he agreed, reaching for the coffee. “But we’ve decided to give this policy more priority, and given that it’s a cross-government initiative, I thought I’d show face.”

“Right,” she said weakly. “Great.”

“Oh, I won’t be here for the whole thing,” he added. “I suspect I’ll leave after lunch. Coffee?”

“Thank you.”

Belle looked around the table, spying pieces of folded card printed with names marking each place. She read over the names, trying to find her own.

“You’re here,” said Sutherland, placing both hands on the back of one of the chairs and pulling it out. “Please. Take a seat.”

For a moment she was frozen in place, but then she lifted her chin, stalking around the table and sitting down. He pushed her chair in, and she murmured her thanks, squeezing her thighs together as he reached over her shoulder and grasped a cup and saucer between thumb and forefinger, slowly pulling it over until it was in front of her. Belle watched the movement of his hand: long, tanned fingers above a perfectly white shirt cuff, and wanted to sigh. Nope. Still fancy him. Dammit!

“I trust your journey here wasn’t too tiring,” he said, crossing to the chair opposite the door and taking a seat.

“It was fine,” she said automatically.

“And the accommodation?” he went on. “I’m sure Anna arranged something suitable.”

“Yes, it’s - uh - lovely.”

He nodded, reaching for his own coffee, and Belle glanced down at the table. There was a folder of documents in front of her, a close-up picture of a smiling multiracial group of people with their arms around each other in front of a gleaming modern building of steel and glass. Shaping a Stronger Society was written in yellow font on a dark blue background. Belle opened the folder to reveal a sheaf of documents, the day’s agenda lying uppermost.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a long day,” said Sutherland, making her jump. “We’ll do our best to keep you lubricated. There’s plenty more coffee, if you need it.”

Belle automatically took a sip of her own coffee, and was spared the ordeal of making conversation by the door opening to reveal Anna. She was followed by several men and women in suits, and there was a buzz of conversation as introductions were made and seating places indicated. Belle smiled at the man who was directed to sit next to her. He looked a little out of place in his tweed jacket with elbow patches, glasses perched on his nose and red hair curling back from a high forehead. Belle read his nameplate.

“Dr Archibald Hopper,” she said. “Are you an academic?”

“Oh, Archie, please,” he said, with a warm smile. “And yes, I was a practising psychiatrist for many years. More recently I’ve been teaching at Cambridge, so that and research take up most of my time.”

Belle sat up excitedly.

“Oh! I studied at Cambridge,” she said happily. “So of course I have to say there’s no finer university for you to be teaching at.”

“Well, I certainly won’t argue with that,” he said with a smile. “And everyone knows who you are. A modern day freedom fighter for literacy, which is an excellent cause. Miss French, I believe.”

“Belle’s fine,” said Belle, with a grin. “What’s your interest in this?”

“I’ve been studying the psychological impact of poverty and deprivation and its links to poor health and other life chances,” he said earnestly. “I think your interests and mine probably overlap.”

“I should think they probably do,” said Belle. “Although I imagine your credentials are somewhat more impressive than mine.”

“On the contrary,” said Archie. “You have experience in the field, as it were. I’d certainly be interested in hearing your perspective on the literacy programmes you’ve introduced.”

“You heard about that?” she asked, surprised, and he smiled.

“There were a number of pieces in the press after your - ah - meeting with the Prime Minister,” he said. “I understand you’ve created a useful community resource built around literacy for all ages.”

Belle opened her mouth to explain what she was doing, but was cut off by Sutherland clearing his throat.

“Right, well, good morning everyone,” he said, leaning on the table and glancing around at the occupants. “We have a full schedule, and I’m sure you all want to make the most of it, so I won’t be doing the creeping death of introductions around the table, as you’re no doubt relieved to hear. We can save the obligatory networking for the tea breaks.”

There was an appreciative chuckle from the attendees.

“You all have a pack of documents in front of you,” he went on. “This contains information on everyone here, including interests and expertise. I’m pleased to see such a range of talent around this table, and I’m excited to see what we can achieve together. I know you all take the development of this policy as seriously as I do.”

Belle found herself nodding along with the others. Sutherland certainly knew how to command attention.

“The documents also set out some of the initial research provided by the government departments leading on this policy,” he said. “Of course you all have your own experience, and no doubt your own sources to bring to the table. I fully expect this to be a challenging session with a lot of strong opinions being aired, but I’m confident that we can avoid too much bloodshed.”

There was a ripple of laughter, but Sutherland’s eyes lingered on Belle a little longer than the others. She met his gaze steadily, hoping she wouldn’t blush.

“You might well be wondering why I’m here,” he added, looking around. “The Shaping a Stronger Society policy will fulfil several key campaign pledges and lay the groundwork for lasting change. I thought it right that I give it the high profile it deserves, particularly when it cuts across so many Government departments. We need to be presenting a united front on this.”

“I’m sure the fact that it’s election year is a happy coincidence,” remarked a woman with a white-blonde bob over dark roots. Belle read her nameplate: Ella Deville-Waters. Sutherland grinned.

“Well, you know what they say, Ella,” he said. “Politics is eighty percent timing, ten percent luck—”

“And ten percent knowing how to lie with a straight face,” drawled Ella, making everyone chuckle.

“Thought that was at least sixty percent,” muttered Belle, and Archie laughed and managed to turn it into a cough.

“Let’s get started,” said Sutherland, glancing at Belle again. “I know there are a few of you with presentations to give on your own areas of interest, and I’m assured the technology is working, so I’ll hand things over to each of you. Anna, could you help Miss French set up the first presentation?”

Belle blinked rapidly.

“Me?” she said weakly, and Sutherland smiled.

“Gets it out of the way, hmm?”

She supposed it would.

-

Standing up in front of a sea of expectant faces turned towards her, Belle momentarily wanted to run from the room. Once she started speaking and concentrated on her passion for the subject, however, she forgot that she was presenting to a bunch of politicians and academics in Downing Street. The fifteen minutes she had been allotted went by more quickly than she thought possible, and prompted a number of questions that she was able to answer easily. She sat down with a thump next to Archie afterwards, feeling an odd mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, and he sent her a reassuring smile before turning his attention to the next speaker, Ella Deville-Waters. It turned out that she was Undersecretary for Education, and she spoke eloquently about the importance of early years learning.

There were other presentations, each followed by an opportunity for questions, the final talk being given by Archie. Belle scribbled notes as he spoke, and made a note of the papers he referenced; they sounded like something she would be interested in reading at a later date. When the questions were finished, Sutherland announced that they would break for coffee, and Belle felt herself sigh in relief. She was surprised to see that it was eleven-thirty already; the morning was almost over.

The rest of the day went reasonably well and the group generated some robust discussion; despite Sutherland having said he would be leaving after lunch, he showed no sign of doing so, and took the lead in steering the conversation. There was general agreement on the merits of expanding opportunities for all, and the desired outcome of the policy. Disagreements arose when it came to discussing how to get there. There was a frank exchange of views between Belle, Ella, and the brusque Sir George King, who worked for the Treasury. He seemed to take any suggestion that money would have to be spent as a personal affront. Anna had to step in and smooth things over more than once, and Belle could feel her patience draining away as the day drew towards evening. The draft call for evidence that was produced was the last straw.

“This doesn’t go nearly far enough,” she said bluntly, lifting the paper and dropping it on the table. “The questions skirt around the real issues, and there’s no meat on the bones of this thing. Whatever responses you get won’t address what we’ve been talking about all day. It’s papering over the cracks at best.”

“This is merely a scoping document,” said Sutherland mildly. “And a first draft at that. You can’t expect the policy to be fully-formed at this stage.”

“No, but if this is the direction we’re being nudged in, the whole thing is pointless,” she said. “How can you expect us to even start to make a difference if you refuse to fund it properly?”

Sutherland took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’ve been over this, Miss French,” he said, sounding weary. “Budget constraints—”

“Yes we have been over this, and as I’ve said, budget constraints only ever seem to apply to policies that benefit the many over the few,” she said tartly. “Your Government may have managed to sweep the whole Pennine Consortium debacle under the rug a couple of years ago, but I remember the reports about the amount of public money that was being poured into that project, and it turned out to be going into the back pockets of the Home Secretary’s relatives!”

“Paying out according to contractual agreements is normal practice in business, I believe,” he said, in a bored voice. “The matter was investigated and the Home Secretary was cleared of all wrongdoing, as I’m sure you’re aware. ”

“My point is that billions were paid out for defence contracts with no questions being raised about whether they were affordable.”

“Clearly you didn’t watch the Select Committee hearings,” he remarked. His voice was a flat drawl that was doing nothing to stop her rising irritation.

“They were held after the money had been spent, not before, that’s my point!”

“And of course the purchase of tanks is entirely analogous to the development of literacy programmes.”

“I’d argue that the purchase of tanks is of decidedly lower value, actually,” she said.

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to make these decisions, isn’t it?”

Anna cleared her throat.

“Perhaps we can get back to the matter at hand?” she suggested. “Ella, what were you saying about school opening hours?”

“Oh, we can talk about that later,” said Ella cheerfully, waving a hand. “I’d much rather listen to this argument.”

“No one’s arguing,” said Sutherland coolly. “Miss French has a passionate nature, it seems.”

“Thanks, that’s not at all patronising,” said Belle, in a dry tone.

“Passion for public service is to be commended,” he said, matching her tone. “I thought I was giving you a compliment.”

“No you didn’t.”

Sutherland fixed her with a dark-eyed stare, his mouth flat. It was strangely arousing, and she could feel her breathing quicken. She told herself it was irritation.

“Your input here is valued, Miss French,” he said, his jaw a little clenched. “But I’d be grateful if you would allow us to guide you through this process, given that you know nothing about the way Government works.”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed, losing the last of her patience. “I don’t know about policy-making and contract negotiation and tendering and public procurement. And likewise I’d say you and most of the people that work for you don’t know what it’s like to worry about where the next meal is coming from.”

“Which is why we’re seeking the input of a wide range of stakeholders such as yourself.” He was trying for a smooth tone, but his eyes were flashing, and she could sense he was getting as annoyed as she.

“If you’re not prepared to listen to us, then it’s all empty gestures, isn’t it?” she protested.

“Wanting your input and allowing you to set the parameters of this thing are two entirely different things,” he said coldly. “I’m sorry if your expectations are out of step with reality.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.”

“Right!” said Anna briskly, slapping the table and making everyone jump. “That seems like a good place to break until tomorrow. It’s been a long day and I’m sure everyone could do with some fresh air.”

“Could do with a stiff drink, I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Ella, and there were appreciative murmurs from the others.

Belle sat back in her seat, listening with half an ear as chairs scraped back and papers were gathered up. Sutherland had already gone, stalking out of the room, and the others were throwing curious glances at her as they pulled on coats and drained cups.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Belle,” said Archie, tucking his folder of papers into a battered brown leather bag. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re right about the scope being too narrow.”

She gave him a grateful look, and a smile, and he ducked his head a little and sauntered out. Belle sighed, toying with the cold cup of tea in front of her as the others began to file out. She felt drained, wrung out. Was this what it was like every day for politicians? She wondered how they coped. Maybe it was why so many seemed to go grey so quickly.

“You settling in for the night?”

Anna’s voice made her look up, and Belle realised they were alone.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” she said. “I feel as though my brain’s been scrambled and stuffed back in my head all wrong.”

“Welcome to Whitehall,” said Anna, in a deadpan tone, and Belle giggled.

“Sorry for letting my temper get the better of me at the end,” she said. “I’m not cut out for politics, it seems.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Anna. “You have the ability to see to the heart of things. He wasn’t joking when he said your input is valued, you know.”

Belle sighed, running her hands over her face.

“It just - it feels like I’m wasting my time here,” she said. “I know I don’t have much longer before the library has to close, and - and yet I’m down here in London, in what seems like a hopeless uphill battle! Maybe I should just go back to Avonleigh and try to do what little good I can.”

“You may have longer than you think,” said Anna, gathering up some papers. “The Prime Minister approved a scheme for local authorities a few days ago. It offers grants to support providers of breakfast clubs and after-school learning.”

Belle sat up.

“Like the library?” she asked, and Anna shrugged.

“Seems likely, doesn’t it?” she said. “Oh, we’ve made sure that local authorities have to use it for the intended purpose, by the way. The scheme is due to launch next week. I’d keep my eyes peeled to the website, if I were you.”

She put the papers in a leather satchel and took out another folder before slinging the satchel over one shoulder. Belle was smiling, her heart swelling with what felt like hope for the first time in months.

“A reprieve for the library?” she said. “And it was his idea?”

“Like I said.” Anna hitched the satchel on her shoulder. “He does listen. You might not think so, but he does.”

“Listening’s all very well,” said Belle. “It’s the choices that are made that are the issue.”

“There isn’t always a choice,” said Anna firmly. “Or at least, not one a Prime Minister can make.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Difficult decisions have to be made,” she added. “Sometimes hundreds each day. Everything’s urgent, everything has an impact, and he tries his best to make the right call based on the information given by people he trusts. He doesn’t always get it right. No one could.”

“Maybe not, but—”

“He has to balance fifty competing interests with almost every decision he makes,” she went on. “The papers turn on a dime and whoever’s lauded one week gets pilloried the next. Everyone around him is looking to him to lead and half of them are willing him to fail so that they can step into the spotlight. I won’t let that happen if I can help it.”

She picked up the folder of papers, turning on her heel.

“I’ll show you out,” she said over her shoulder. “I expect you’ll want an early night after today. Or a large drink. Or both.”

“You care about him,” said Belle, and Anna stopped dead before slowly turning back to face her.

“Yes,” she said simply. “He’s a good friend. And whether or not you believe it, Miss French, he’s a good man.”

Belle was silent for a moment.

“I haven’t made up my mind on that score,” she said eventually.

“Oh, I didn’t say he wasn’t a stubborn bloody pain in the arse at times,” added Anna. “He’s definitely that.”

Belle couldn’t help giggling.

“Well, bearing all that in mind, and in the interests of cooperation,” she said. “I suppose I really ought to apologise for snapping at him.”

Something in Anna seemed to relax at her words, and she smiled again.

“He’s used to being snapped at,” she said dismissively. “He gets far worse in the Commons, let’s face it. But an apology would probably make him more inclined to listen to you, so I certainly won’t stand in your way.”

Belle nodded agreement, and Anna jerked her head towards the door.

“I was going to take these reports to him before I head off,” she said, holding up the folder. “If you felt like going there now, I’d be happy to tell him you want to have a word.”

Belle hesitated, but nodded, and Anna smiled briefly and headed for the door. The interior of Downing Street was busier than Belle had expected at that time in the evening, aides hurrying with laptops and drinks and phones clasped to their ears. Anna led her down a wide, thickly-carpeted corridor and paused outside a heavy office door, where two Special Branch officers nodded to Anna and eyed Belle suspiciously before stepping aside. Anna rapped smartly on the door, and Belle heard a muffled bid to enter from behind it. She could feel her heart thumping in trepidation, and when the door opened she could see a room with a high ceiling, dark green carpet and a dresser in dark, polished wood where several cut crystal decanters sat, their contents gleaming in shades of amber and ruby. There were two leather armchairs and a couch around a coffee table in the same dark wood. Bookshelves stretched around two walls of the room, and Sutherland was sitting behind a heavy desk opposite the door, scribbling something. His eyes narrowed as they met Belle’s, but Anna walked forward, cutting off his view.

“Brought you those updates on the infrastructure options,” she said breezily, holding up the files. “If you want to go through them later let me know. I thought I’d go and get something to eat.”

“So I know why you’re in my office,” he said evenly, sitting back and putting down his pen. “Not too clear on the presence of Miss French. Unless she thought of something else she wanted to call me.”

“Actually I’m here to apologise,” said Belle, making his brows lift in surprise. “So I’m not about to insult you unless you start something.”

Sutherland’s mouth worked, as though he was trying not to laugh.

“Uh - thank you, Anna,” he said, glancing away. “Yes, go and get some dinner. I think Miss French and I can have a conversation without it coming to blows.”

“Good,” said Anna. “Behave.”

Belle was unsure who that last comment was directed at, but Anna left the room before she could ask, shutting the door behind her with a click. She turned slowly on her toes to face Sutherland, who was leaning back in his chair and tapping his papers with a pen, staring at her.

“Anna told me about the local authority grants for educational services,” she said. “That should help a lot more libraries stay open.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, with a shrug.

“Providing librarians know it’s available, of course,” she added.

“There’ll be an announcement when it’s launched,” he said. “Of course there’s nothing to stop you contacting your peers and explaining the process.”

“I guess not.” She fiddled with a button on her jacket before smoothing her hand against her skirt. “What made you change the policy on local grants?”

“I didn’t,” he said abruptly. “Just provided - clarification around eligibility.”

Belle took a step forward, until she was almost touching the desk.

“Well, that clarification should mean I won’t be closing the library doors this year,” she said. “Lucky for me, hmm?”

“Surprising as it may seem,” he remarked. “I do actually take into account the views of interested parties when making decisions. Where I can.”

“Hmm.” Belle leaned on the desk, pursing her lips. “Well, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I don’t like losing my temper and I try not to if I can help it.”

There was a tiny, amused grin on his face.

“A pity,” he said. “It was rather refreshing.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t all that satisfying from my perspective,” she said. “Dealing with politicians is making me more cynical than I’d like to be.”

He gave her a twisted little smile.

“Well, that’s no bad thing,” he said. “The moment you start wanting to be cynical it’s probably time to run screaming for the hills.”

“At nine this morning I almost did run screaming,” she admitted, and he chuckled.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. “I enjoyed your presentation. It was delivered with your usual passion, and I think you may have brought some of the others on board.”

“I think Sir George King would rather I’d stayed at home,” she said, and Sutherland shrugged.

“If it was up to him we wouldn’t spend any money at all,” he said. “On the whole, today went rather well, I thought. No physical blows were exchanged, and there was almost no profanity. One of the more sedate policy meetings I’ve attended, truth be told.”

Belle smiled.

“We’re all here for the common good, I suppose,” she said. “Although in some cases I’m not sure how much common good they’re really interested in doing.”

“First rule of policy-making,” he said. “Try not to kill off half your contributors in a fit of righteous anger. Tempting though it is.”

“Hmm.” She was amused. “I don’t remember reading that one in the welcome pack.”

“Unwritten rule,” he corrected, raising a finger. “I think the pack said some bollocks about understanding motivation and managing expectations.”

Belle bit back a grin.

“I guess I’m not cut out for a career in diplomacy,” she said, and he smiled.

“Gets easier the more you do it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Well, thank goodness you’ll believe one thing that comes out of my mouth.”

It was said in a dry tone, but he was still grinning, and she returned the smile. There was a moment of silence, and he pushed up from the desk, crossing to the dresser.

“I was going to have a drink,” he said. “May I offer you one? There’s whisky, port, brandy… If that’s not to your taste I could easily have something brought in.”

“Uh - okay.” Belle was beginning to feel as though she had stepped into a strange parallel universe, where small town librarians sat and drank with the leaders of nations as a matter of course. “Thank you. I’ll take a brandy.”

“Excellent choice,” he said vaguely, and opened one of the doors of the dresser, taking out two brandy glasses.

Belle watched as he reached for one of the decanters and poured two small measures. His suit pants fitted him very well, skimming his rear as he moved. She shook her head, telling herself to stop ogling the man. Sutherland turned, glasses in hand, and nodded towards the armchairs.

“Take a seat,” he said.

Still feeling as though she was dreaming, Belle took the glass he held out and sat down, crossing her legs and watching as he put down his glass and lowered himself into the seat opposite. She took a sip of her brandy to take her mind off how good he looked, and how much better he might look if he lost the tie and unfastened the first few buttons of that crisp white shirt. The brandy was very good, far better than she was used to, and she licked her lips, enjoying the taste of caramel and spice and the pleasant heat on her tongue. Sutherland took a drink, sucking in his cheeks and setting down his glass on the coffee table. He looked tired.

“Are your work days usually this long?” she asked, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“It’s barely six-thirty,” he said. “I still have a few hours left in me.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a work-life balance,” she observed. Sutherland pulled a face.

“Gets a little quieter at recess, but no, I don’t suppose it is,” he said.

“Are you married?” she asked, and Sutherland shook his head.

“Divorced.”

“Oh,” said Belle. “I’m sorry.”

“No no, it’s fine,” he said, sitting back. “It was amicable. We’re still friends.”

“Oh.”

“She’s engaged to a High Court judge now,” he added. “I wish her every happiness.”

“Oh.” For God’s sake, Belle, say something intelligent. “You have kids?”

“A daughter,” he said. “Grown up now. Early twenties.”

“Oh.”

Sutherland took a drink, seeming to savour the taste of brandy on his tongue before swallowing. His gaze was steady, his eyes dark, and she could feel faint stirrings of desire in her lower abdomen. She looked down into her brandy glass, watching the ripples in the amber liquid and telling herself to snap out of her crush.

“What about you?” he asked then, making her look up. “You married? Children?”

“You mean you didn’t have me checked out?” she asked dryly, and he shrugged.

“Maybe you’re good at hiding things,” he said. “Or, as is more likely, Anna told me and I forgot about it.”

Belle bit back a smile.

“Well, hiding a husband and children would be beyond me,” she said. “Luckily I have no need. No family. Well, there’s my dad back in Melbourne, but apart from that I’m on my own.”

“No large, intimidating boyfriend?” he asked. “Or maybe a girlfriend, what do I know?”

“Neither,” she said. “Last relationship was pretty crappy, to be honest. Made me want to take a break for a while.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I understand.”

“I thought you said you were on good terms with your ex.”

“Well…” He waved a hand. “I vaguely remember what it was like to be young. Aeons ago.”

She scoffed.

“Come on, you’re not that old.”

“Bloody feels like it, sometimes,” he grumbled.

“Well, that’s what comes from running the country,” she said pertly. “It’s why I stick to running a library.”

“No doubt that comes with its own stresses.”

“Only when I’m threatened with closure by arrogant, shortsighted politicians,” she quipped, and he snorted in amusement.

“Well, thank fuck there aren’t many of those around.”

Belle giggled before catching herself, and he was grinning as he leaned further back in his chair. His eyes gleamed when he smiled, and she couldn’t decide whether it was more or less arousing than when he was angry. A dangerous path for your thoughts to take, Belle.

“Did you say your daughter was in her twenties?” she said, trying to steer the conversation onto a safe topic. “Is she at university?”

“No no, she’s finished studying,” he said. “She’s started work in the City. Not in politics, thank God.”

“You wouldn’t want her to go into politics?” she asked, and he wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t think she’d be happy,” he said. “It can be a lonely, painful existence, and you make as many enemies as friends. Probably more, if I’m honest. She has a gentle heart, and I wouldn’t want to see her harden it to survive.”

“It seems a shame that people have to,” said Belle. “I think politicians could stand to be more compassionate, not less.”

Sutherland took another sip of his drink, eyeing her as he licked an amber bead of brandy from his lower lip.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said. “Alas, we have to deal with the world as it is, not as we might want it to be.”

“So why did you decide it was what you wanted to do?” she asked. “Did you always want to end up running the country?”

“No, I can’t say it was a childhood dream,” he admitted. “I started out as a barrister. The politician wasn’t born until I was in my late thirties.”

“So why politics?” she asked. “I’m guessing it wasn’t for the money.”

Sutherland pulled a wry face, taking another drink.

“I was earning more at the bar, certainly,” he said. “Far better work-life balance, as well.”

“Ego, then?” she suggested, and he grinned.

“That was certainly part of it.”

Belle waited, and he sighed, turning the brandy glass between his hands.

“Would you believe me if I said I thought I could make things better?” he asked.

“My new-found cynicism wouldn’t,” she remarked, and he chuckled.

“To the tragic death of innocence.”

He raised his glass in a mock toast, and Belle grinned, raising her own before sipping her brandy. The drink was almost gone, and she found herself regretting having drunk it so quickly. She would have to leave as soon as it was done, and to her great surprise she was enjoying their conversation.

“Do you think you have?” she asked. “Made things better?”

Sutherland hesitated, turning the glass between his fingers.

“I suppose it’s a work in progress,” he said. “But I’m trying. Perhaps not in the ways you would want me to.”

“I don’t suppose what I think matters,” she said, and he shook his head.

“You might be surprised at what matters to me, Miss French.”

He took another sip of his brandy, his eyes fixed on hers, and she could feel herself shiver. She drained her glass, setting it down on the table with a loud clink.

“Well,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I should go. I feel as though I’ve been wrung dry and turned inside out, and I could really use some sleep before I have to do it all again tomorrow.”

He smiled at that, setting his glass beside hers.

“In that case, I’ll show you out. Anna will expect me to have read those papers by the time she gets back.”

“She seems very committed to her job,” observed Belle, and he grinned.

“Couldn’t do my own without her,” he said. “I need someone to keep me in line.”

“I won’t argue with that,” she remarked, and he chuckled, a deep laugh that made her belly clench.

“I can see why she likes you,” he said, and strode to the door, opening it up and nodding to the Special Branch officers outside. “Good evening, Miss French. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

Belle nodded, slipping from the room and heading back along the corridor. A smiling woman with a dark ponytail and a brisk manner showed her out, and she stepped into the street with a sigh of relief. The press pack had gone, and she walked down towards the gates, smiling thanks to the police officer that let her out into the street beyond. It had been a long day, there was another to come, and her crush on the Prime Minister was developing into full-blown lust.

[jaxsteamblog]

Flirt

Click here to read the entire fic on AO3

Katara straightened her crown in the mirror, turning her head side to side to make sure it was straight. Her wavy hair had resisted the pin, and the thickness certainly fought the top knot, but she had eventually managed to get the thing on.

“Are you sure it doesn’t look silly?” She asked.

Zuko came into view behind her, sliding his hands around her sides to hold her lightly. 

“As silly as mine does in modern clothes.” He replied and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

“I don’t think it’s made for hair like mine.” She muttered.

“Sounds like a design flaw, not a you flaw.” 

“Mmm.”

“Mmm?”

“MMM.”

Zuko kissed her cheek again and backed away. The loops usually at the side of her face had been pulled back to start a simple sort of braid. The beads were still present, and she was wearing her necklace, but the crown stood out as an accessory.

“I know it’s a flame, but doesn’t it look a bit like a crescent moon?” He asked.

“That’s a stretch.” Katara said.

Skittering claws came into the room and Katara turned as Druk bounded toward her. He was less than a year old but already the size of an adult owl cat. His wings were still clumsy and he could only fly short distances, yet his legs were powerful enough to send him racing down hallways.

He terrified the palace staff and greatly annoyed the also still alarmingly growing Mister Whiskers. 

“Don’t.” Zuko warned both Katara and Druk. Both of them ignored him and Druk launched himself at Katara, making her stagger as she caught him.

“He can’t jump up on people like that.” Zuko grumbled. “It’s poor manners.”

“Aww, my sweet baby just wants attention.” Katara cooed, rubbed her nose against Druk’s snout. He smelled like soot and heat, and Katara cuddled his chest close to her face. He nipped at her crown and Zuko sighed in annoyance.

“A dragon shouldn’t be carried like a toddler. It’s undignified.” He said finally and Katara turned to him. 

“How dare you say such a thing about our boy.” She said. 

“This is why he’s a brat when you’re gone.” 

“Of course, he misses his momma.” 

“You both are deranged.” 

Katara kissed Druk’s scaly head and set him down. The dragon hopped indignantly, blowing out bursts of flame.

“You know he’s going to be a terror when we have actual children.” Zuko said, holding out his arm. Katara linked to him and held on with her other hand.

“Why do we even need anymore? Let’s just crown Druk and the Fire Nation can have an actual dragon as it’s Fire Lord instead of making up all these fancy honorifics for you.” Katara said.

“If history is any indication, they might not tell the difference.” He agreed.

Walking out of their bedroom, Druk followed them closely. Having returned with a dragon, the court and the city of Caldera had changed its attitude toward Zuko. The rest of the world still thought dragons were extinct, so Druk was a miracle bestowed to their Fire Lord as a sign from the spirits. As they had all sworn an oath never to speak of Ran and Shaw, no one disabused people of that notion. 

Now, even the prime minister had quelled his adversarial politics. 

Ozai and Azula both had been recorded as having thrown massive fits about it. 

Katara and Zuko headed toward the ballroom, watching with wry amusement as the staff jumped out of Druk’s way. When they reached the massive double doors, Katara called Druk and held him again, knowing that he didn’t do very well in large groups of people. 

“Fire Lord, Fire Lady.” A member of the house staff jumped when he opened the door, seeing the royal couple on the other side. 

“We wanted to see how everything was progressing.” Zuko said.

The man glanced at Druk, curled in Katara’s arms and she smiled back at him. 

Being favored by a dragon was also helping her image at the palace as well.

“Of course.” The man said, stepping to the side. 

Katara followed Zuko inside and looked around. While Zuko himself wasn’t overly interested in celebrating his birthday, there were expectations for the Fire Lord. These expectations somehow included the Water Tribe Ambassador rearranging all of the flowers. 

A sour faced man approached them, bowing obviously to Zuko and leaving Katara in her place at his side.

“Is everything to your liking, Fire Lord?” He asked.

Zuko turned to Katara and idly scratched Druk’s crest. 

“Lady wife?” He asked.

“Yes?”

“Everything pales in comparison to the luminary beauty of yourself. I am unable to adequately judge these offerings with you standing so close to me.” 

Katara smiled and had to keep herself from laughing.

“How can I do any better? The light of your loveliness blinds me to anything else.” She remarked. 

“My most prudent and beloved queen, I beg that you give me some words to describe this room that does not degrade your glittering visage.”

“Oh honorable husband, for that you would have to leave my sight and I could not bear to stand in such darkness.”

“I think,” The sour faced man said bitterly. “I will have to trust the Fire Lady’s most esteemed brother then?”

“Sokka is a marvel, I think that might be best.” Katara said, wrinkling her nose and giving the man a patronizing look. 

The man bowed to them both and walked back to the activity. Zuko did laugh softly then and Katara turned back to him.

“Light of my loveliness?” He asked.

“Glittering visage?” She countered.

“Hey, the words may have been stuffy, but they were still true.” He replied.

“So what words would you really use?” Katara asked. 

“Hmm,” Zuko thought and took some of her hair in his hands. He stared at it as he rolled the strands under his fingers.

“I would start by saying how devious fate must be to make my love part ocean spirit as I most certainly am in danger of drowning when you’re around.” He started and twirled her hair around his fingers. “You take my breath away, but also, there are times when I don’t feel like coming up for air.”

“Zuko!” Katara whispered sharply, her face heating up in a flash. 

Zuko only smiled and released her hair.

“I would say that thank the spirits you’re brilliant because I lose all sense when I look at your face, because your beauty is enough to make a fool of any man.” He continued. “And I’d quite like an opportunity to play the fool soon.”

“Spirits, you are brazen.” Katara said with a laugh. Her grip on Druk tightened and he squeaked in annoyance. 

“Sorry Druk, I’m displacing you as your mother’s favorite.” Zuko said and scratched Druk’s neck. 

“You are always my favorite.” Katara said. “No matter what season it is in the Poles, I only feel like the sun has returned when I’m with you.” 

“I don’t see how I can compare when you are always the one lighting up the room.” 

“I wish I could paint with ink the same shade as your hair so I could write every character with the same kind of elegance.” 

“I wish I could train birds to sing in the same notes as your laughter so I could hear your joy every morning.”

“My laughter? I wish I could keep your voice with me because it soothes me better than the sound of a far off thunderstorm.” 

“I am going to vomit all over the floor if you two don’t stop.” Sokka interjected.

Katara lowered her face, blushing, but Zuko chuckled.

“Aw come on! They were being really cute!” Thuy added as she approached from behind them.

The twins that hung around Thuy, who Zuko swore were harmless, watched them with different levels of interest. Suzu looked gleeful while Zula looked bored. Or mildly irritated. She was harder to read.

“I see my wife every other season. You’re lucky we’re out of our rooms at all.” Zuko said.

“Zuko!” Katara blurted while the three teenage girls burst out laughing. Sokka only sighed and tapped the heel of his hand against his forehead. 

“Can we play with Druk, Auntie?” Thuy asked, changing the subject.

“Please.” Katara said, holding Druk out even as he clung to her in protest. “He needs to potty.”

“Thank you Auntie!” Thuy said and forcefully took the dragon, running off with him before he could break free of her grip. Suzu jogged after her and Zula walked stoically after. 

“Okay you two, try to focus for long enough to look at these terrible centerpieces.” Sokka said. “I think I’ve managed to salvage them.”

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[shintorikhazumi]

English! AU (1): “My Name is Hannah England.”

A/N: Yeah, it only took me like... 3 years to release this. Wow. Nice. If you’ve seen the OG post for the details for this AU, then you’ve seen it.

Hannah England. I love her.

Enough said.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

"What do you mean I have to come back?!"

An impatient tapping of a foot.

"Well, I can tell you that I bloody won't! Wasn't I removed from the- No! He said it himself. If I were to choose to be a witch, I'd- Mother! NO! Are you listening- Mother I cannot, WILL NOT- We had an agreement!"

She twirled the telephone wire around her finger anxiously until it was so short she had to release it.

No. This could not be happening. No, not now. They had promised! They'd talked about this! This wasn't fair! She had held up her end of the bargain-

"...HAH?! You've sent them to- NO, NO, NO... NO!"

There wasn't even a knock. There was barely even a warning.

It wasn't a cliche breaking down of doors, or smashing of windows, however. It was a swift opening of the door, so fast it barely made a sound.

And there they were.

"N-no..."

"Miss England."

"No... NO! NO, you- YOU CAN'T TAKE ME!"

"These are national orders. I'm afraid there is nothing we can do."

There was nothing she could do.

"W-why..." She choked out, still in a defensive stance, a candleholder held up as a weapon. "We... My grandfather and I agreed on this. I was not to be included in the run-"

"Miss England- no." The bespectacled man caught himself, clearing his throat once before staring at the young girl dead on. "Miss Windsor."

Her eyes widened upon hearing that name, weapon dropping to the floor. She quickly narrowed those same eyes however as she remembered what it meant.

It filled her with rage.

"I- that's no longer-"

"You may only be the fourth in line. However..."

A document was presented to her, with the official signature of... the king... and...

"The prime minister is your primary backer. Do you really think you are in a position to reject?"

"..."

"You have been chosen by most ambassadors."

"Why." It pissed her off. It made her fume. Why. After so long. After all these years. After they'd agreed not to-

"Because according to his majesty... no one is better suited for winning the crown..."

She stepped back as he came forward, grasping her by the arm.

"Than the one who does not want to win the fight for it at all."

//-//-//-//-//

"Hannah? Hannah?" Barbara called out. "We're back?" She went to check Diana's section of the room, the bathroom, and even the closets, hoping to find her best friend in the room. "Hmm... maybe she went for dinner first?"

"Barbara? What's wrong?" Diana walked into the room, brushing some dirt off her coat. This made Barbara automatically check her appearance in the mirror.

"Oh... nothing." Though maybe she should have said that they looked all wrong.

Gosh. They both needed a bath. That five-day mission didn't do their appearances and smells too kindly, it seemed.

She couldn't face Hannah like this. She needed to wash up before meeting the person she'd missed the most these past few days.

Oh, just why did the latest missions have to be pair missions? At least Hannah had gone with Amanda. That put Barbara at ease with regards to her safety. Though, she admitted she was just a little jealous that two of her- ehem- “potential love interests” had been able to go with each other, enjoying themselves without her.

Yes, she’d boldly admit to liking them both.

Sucy’s shaming should never get to her!

Shaking such thoughts and feelings out of her head, she focused on the task at hand. The sooner she got cleaned up, the sooner she could see Hannah! (And Maybe Amanda at dinner, too.)

//-//-//-//-//

A warm shower was only half as good without Hannah.

Ahhhh... just where was she? Barbara could barely wait to sneak into her bed and cuddle 'til daybreak-

"Barbara?" A muffled voice came from the other side of the bathroom door.

Turning the running water off, she replied to the call, "Yes, Diana?"

"Did Hannah mention anything about another mission? I was under the impression she'd just gotten back from the previous one she'd told us about. Or has she not arrived yet?"

Huh? That was strange. Hannah was supposed to have arrived a day or two after she and Diana left.

Wiping herself down and wrapping a towel about her, she exited the steaming room, a frown decorating her features.

"Not that I know of. I didn't notice any notes or letters either..." Now she was beginning to feel strange. "She didn't send any familiar or anything, right?"

Diana mirrored her frown.

"...No. She did not."

A knock came against their door.

"Yes?" Diana answered it as her companion inside quickly got dressed, now in more casual wear.

"Diana! Hannah! Oh, thank goodness you're back!" Akko lunged at her bestfriend, holding tight, that faint blush on the heiress' face going unnoticed. "I was wondering if you knew! I just had to ask! I mean, I'm not that close with her and all yet, but I thought we were friends at least! She didn't say a word! Oh! But I figured you two would know, right? Strange that even Amanda doesn't know... I know they don't always get along, and quarrel and stuff, but Sucy always called them lovers' spats and-"

"Akko." Diana stilled Akko's rambling, grasping her face with both hands, then quickly noticing the intimacy of that gesture and stepping away, releasing the girl. "S-sorry."

"A-ah.. n-no... I-"

"Um... what was... what are you talking about?" Diana tried as she regained her composure. Barbara rolled her eyes fondly at the exchange.

Dorks.

"Oh right!" The girl rushed forward into the room to grab Barbara by the wrist, as well as Diana, dragging them out into the corridors towards the direction of the mess hall.

"Akko?!"

"I wanted to ask you!"

"What?"

They had finally arrived in the dining room, quickly approaching their usual table where the group of friends were gathered about Lotte's magical orb that was now projecting something akin to what one would see on a television screen.

"This!" She pointed.

“What-”

"Why is Hannah on TV?"

"...Huh?!" Barbara suddenly slammed her hands on the table at that sight, surprising everyone including herself because why was Hannah on TV?! And... Why was she next to...

"Also, why did Hannah suddenly have to leave school? It was announced during homeroom for the ones already back from missions."

"What?!" Now Barbara was even more confused. Hannah hadn't mentioned anything about this at all!

"Akko! Shhh!" Lotte scolded, Amanda clamping a hand over their loveable dork's mouth. "We're trying to find out what's going on!"

["The situation in the palace has not been disclosed to the press; however, it seems to be confirmed that dire conditions are currently in place as more and more of the possible successors have returned to the capitol."]

"That reporter is kinda my type- oof!"

"You deserved that." Sucy grinned as Amanda rubbed the sore spot Barbara had inflicted pain on.

"Fuck you."

"No thanks."

["None have been willing to give their statements thus far, but... Oh! We have here the fourth in line! Martin, go get her more focused in the shot since she's the closest- no! Miss Windsor!]

"Windsor?" Akko cocked her head to the side, clearly very confused. "But aren't they calling Hannah? They are calling Hannah... right?"

Barbara didn't really know anymore.

She didn’t know anymore.

Suddenly, a scary looking man came into view, the typical visage of a bodyguard. A low voice growled.

["It was announced that the press was not allowed to interview any of the returning heirs and heiresses. Please return back behind the line."]

["But-"]

The camera view had become shaky, as if the person holding it was being pushed away.

["Miss Windsor! Miss Windsor!"]

["Hey! Didn’t I just-"]

["Miss Hannah Windsor!"]

Barbara stared at the moving image in front of her. This was...There was no mistaking it.

["You're wrong."]

Those words may have seemingly contradicted her inner thoughts, but Barbara knew one thing. This person....

"Hannah..." She murmured, hand clenched over her heart. The girl had spoken up, camera focused on her even at its odd angle. Barbara’s heart couldn’t help but flutter at the voice she’d missed for days. But... it also hurt. To only hear it through a medium like this... “Hannah.”

["You're wrong. My name... isn't Hannah Windsor...] The girl on camera stated with shaky breaths. 

She was right. This wasn’t some Hannah Windsor or someone Barbara didn’t know. This was Hannah England. Her Hannah.

So why...?

[It isn’t that... not... any- oi!"]

“Hannah!” Barbara exclaimed, reaching for a Hannah she couldn’t even touch.

["The press shall not receive any statement from any of the arrivals until further notice. Good day."]

A glasses-wearing man had said before speedily ushering Hannah into the gates, figure going further and further away from Barbara's view.

["We have a scoop! Did you hear that?! Did you-"]

[*beep*]

"Heh... think they got shut down?" Amanda commented, everyone still focused on the now-static-filled projection.

"Maybe. But it's too late to hide some weird statement scandal like that. News spreads annoyingly fast." Sucy responded, taking a bite from her mushroom.

"Still... it's weird." Akko chirped. "Why'd they call Hannah, "Windsor"? That was Hannah, right? Or was she a look-alike? Doppleganger?" She proposed excitedly. "But... she's not here either." She deflated.

The fact that her mission partner, Amanda, was here, and Hannah wasn't ruled out a possibility of it just being a mere double existence.

"Windsor...? WIndsor... Hmmm... Windsor? Why do I feel like I've... heard of that.. before..." Barbara watched Akko wrack her brain for an answer, brows scrunched up in intense thought. "Windsor... that's the name of..."

"The royal family." Diana cut in after having watched everything unfold silently.

"Oh! That's right! The Royal family!" Akko exclaimed, happy to finally get that out of mind... before doing a double take, hurting her neck in the process. "THE ROYAL FAMILY?!"

"Akko, shhh!!"

"She can scream it all she wants, Lotte. Not gonna make a difference." Sucy pointed out. "It's already on the news."

Yes. It was indeed.

The fact that...

//-//-//-//-//

"Miss Hannah England is Royalty. Some of you may have caught wind of this kind of rumors or news." Finnelan spoke during the morning assembly. "This statement is something we have no right to confirm or deny. However, Miss Hannah, has been pulled out of school for personal reasons that shall not be disclosed. No questions shall be asked regarding Miss Eng-Windsor... er... ehem... England anymore.”

“So much for confidentiality and defeating rumors.” Sucy rolled her eyes, Jasminka nodding in agreement next to her.

“That is all. Now, with regards to the third years' mission statuses-"

Barbara had tuned out completely at that point.

Windsor.

Windsor this, Windsor that.

She hated it. Barbara hated it.

Hannah Windsor on news and articles.

Hannah Windsor here. Hannah Windsor... Hannah Windsor... HANNAH WINDSOR.

She... Hannah... Hannah wasn't Hannah Windsor... Hannah was...

"Barbara? Are you okay?" Diana whispered, covering Barbara's clenched one in her own. "Do you want to leave the hall? Get some air?"

"No... I'm fine." Barbara looked up, smiling at Diana unconvincingly. "I'm fine."

“Barbara...”

“Really. I am.”

Barbara ignored Diana’s concerned gazes, not wanting to talk about this anymore.

She could handle this.

She said it herself. She was fine. And she was.

But... even though she said she was fine...

Was Hannah fine?

//-//-//-//-//

["Hey. Nice to meet you."

"...hi..."

"You're rather shy." The girl said with a grin. "You're really pretty too."

She felt herself flush red.

"What's your name?"

"B-Barbara... Barbara... Parker."

"That's a really pretty name, Barbara!" The girl held her hand out for a shake. "Let's get along well!"]

Barbara woke up. with a start, eyes immediately scanning the room, going over the spot next to her on the bed.

Cold. Empty.

Barbara held back a sob, hugging her knees tight to her chest.

Her dream... right. That girl. The one who has been by her side for years now, always there. Always so kind... sort of.

That girl... Barbara's best friend, the one who disappeared all of a sudden, the one who showed up on the news yesterday, who had left Luna Nova... She...

She wasn't Hannah Windsor. No.

She was...

["Oh right! I have to introduce myself as well! Silly me.

Hi! I'll be your friend starting today. And My name is...

Hannah England."]

[buckysgoldenheart]

Safe House: August Walker x Reader

Summary: Someone threatens you and so your boyfriend, August, must take you to his safe house.

Words: 3463

Following part: Part 2 (One Year Later)

Note: Not AU really, but doesn’t follow Mission Impossible at all. This is just how I picture a fluffy August who loves his woman.

P.S. This was not edited phenomenally. I have no excuses to feed you. I was just tired ;)

(There are not enough August Walker gifs in this world)

Safe House:

On the days he told you he would hopefully be coming home to you, you stayed up all night, always, until sunrise. And if he didn’t come home that night, then you worried until the next night. Night after night after night until he walked through that door and you could finally breathe again.

It was an entire week this time, that August left you wondering. More days had gone by past the day he promised you than ever before. He had sent no note delivered by a random man with a riddle only you and August knew the answer to. And that was only in the most extreme of cases. More often there was a phone call, quick but reassuring. Not this time, and images of him being tortured or dying flashed through your mind, consuming you, as your fingers trembled around your coffee mug.

Just as the tears began to stream down your paling cheeks, the multiple locks August demanded you have on your door turned and opened one by one until he could freely walk inside. The weight on your chest lifted and you let out a tiny cry of relief, but August, your boyfriend you went a month and a half without seeing, stormed right passed you into the bedroom.

You sat up sharply and put the mug on the table, following him into the bedroom you shared. He hadn’t bothered to turn on one of the lamps, so all you could really see was his form grab a suitcase from the closet, throw it on the bed, wide open, and begin to shove as much clothing inside it as he could.

You stood in the doorway, your eyes adjusting to the darkness and pushing through the tears clouding them. “August,” you spoke softly, thankful he was alive, but heartbroken he had ignored you on his way in. “August,” you tried a little louder. “What is happening? Are you leaving again?”

“Not me,” he said, pausing for a moment to meet your stare. “We.” Then he turned back to his task of throwing things into a suitcase. “Are ten shirts, seven pairs of pants, two dresses, and four pairs of shoes enough for you?”

“Enough for what?” You asked. “August, you’re scaring me.” You walked in the room and touched his arm, stilling his movements so he would look at you. “What is happening?” His eyes, sadder than you had seen them before, roamed over every inch of your face as if he would never get to see it again. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. “August—”

“Do you love me?”

“W-What?”

“You do, don’t you?” He lightly pleaded.

“Of course, I love you, August, but I still do not understand what is going on.”

He sighed in relief, but you didn’t miss the uneasy look on his face. “I’m…fuck…I’m a bit more…higher up than I told you.”

“In…what? Work?”

“Yes.”

You crossed your arms over your middle and swallowed. “What does that mean?”

“I kill more important people than I told you: prime ministers, presidents, royalty, people with families; all of them bad people, but important. I place bombs, I dismantle bombs, both that could and have destroyed half a city.”

“So…was last month in Istanbul—"

“Yes.” He walked over to your dresser and shoved it aside with ease, unlocked the small vault behind it with the pass-code only the two of you knew, and pulled out three guns before placing them between piles of folded clothes in the suitcase. “I have a safe house,” He said. “One even Hunt doesn’t know about.”

“Dad?”

Your eyes widened and he hummed in acknowledgement.

“Dad is with Ilsa, isn’t he? Something about Morocco. That’s all he could say.”

“Yea, he’s been assigned there for a bit. That’s where I am supposed to be, too; right now interrogating the head of the Crown Prince of Morocco’s security because of—” He met your eyes and paused, then shook his head slightly, always unsure of what information could put you in danger, “…certain reasons.”

“I thought you were in London.”

“Yea, I was. Morocco was next. I was going to call you as soon as I could, but…things got complicated.” August quickly walked to the kitchen and returned with a plastic sandwich bag and paper towel, then went to your jewelry box and pulled out two necklaces: one that was your mother’s, and one that he had bought for you when he told you he loved you for the first time. ‘Just in case you were on the fence about me, I thought this might sway you,’ he had said. You laughed, he clasped the necklace around your neck, and you made love over and over, exchanging ‘I love yous” the entire night. Since then, you wore the one he had given you when he moved into your place with the promise that he would never leave you.

You watched as he carefully wrapped up the jewelry in the paper towel, put them in the baggie and zip them safely into a side pocket of the case. “August, please, please tell me that ‘things got complicated’ does not mean that something got fucked up and now my father is supposed to kill you…again.”

“What?” August stopped in his tracks, noticing how every inch of you tensed with stress. “No, baby. No.” He glanced around the room for anything he might have missed. “Anything else you want to take with us?”

You looked around too, not seeing a thing, but then ran into the hallway and took a photo of the both of you off the wall: you and him kissing at your friend’s wedding, both of you completely unaware of the camera man behind you. It clearly showed your love for him and his for you, and so it became, and remained, your favorite.

Back in the room, you placed it on top of everything else in the suitcase, keeping it in the frame to protect it. August smiled at seeing the picture, grabbed your waist, and pulled you close. “I love you,” He whispered, his lips brushing over yours. You smiled slightly and fully placed your mouth to his. All it took was a moment before his hand began to slide around your waist to cup your ass. Then, you reached your arms up and began to twine your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, knowing fully well how that turned him on. You had missed his touch so bad, and he yours, so it took no time to feel him hard, pressed against you.

He pulled back fast, huffing out breaths as you chuckled. “We can’t do this now. We really need to get going.”

Your smile fell. “You still haven’t explained.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” He said, closing the suitcase.

“Give me the short version.”

“Short version,” He mumbled to himself as he pulled the bag off the bed, a small smile on his face at your persistence. “Ok, short version: a guy that I really would rather not know about you, now knows about you.”

“What? Like, a bad guy?”

“Not a super bad one, but…yea.” He cringed as he said the last word. This whole thing was one giant nightmare; his worst, actually. How you weren’t panicking he didn’t know. Maybe it was because you were Hunt’s daughter, but August seemed to feel much more stressed about this than you.

“How? Dad changed me in the system. No one knows my real name but you, him, and the team.”

“I know. We don’t know how. But this guy had your picture and your name, and that was enough for Hunt…and me. Hunt has the guy, but you never know what could happen. He might have people to get him out, he might not, but he made some serious threats and we aren’t risking it, so Hunt and I agreed. I come home, get you and take you somewhere safe that no one else knows about and stay there until further notice.”

You crossed your arms. “And dad is just fine with a man he practically cannot stand coming and taking his daughter away to some random location he can’t track down?”

“Right,” August walked towards you, bag in hand, and motioned you out the door. “Well, he kind of knows about the two of us and figured out of anyone, I’d do the best at protecting you.”

You turned fast with a death glare in your eye and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “What do you mean he knows about us?”

August sighed knowing now was not the time to do this, but well aware that fighting your stubbornness was a losing game. He ran his free hand through his dark curls. “You said he can’t stand me, right?”

“Yes.”

“He ever tell you why?”

“Not specifically.”

“Well, this is why. He does not like that I assassinate by day and sleep with his daughter by night.”

“Oh my God, August!” Both of your hands shoved at his chest, but the brick wall that was your boyfriend did not move an inch.

“Hey, it’s not all me, ok? After we met, he noticed that I asked about you all the time, but apparently you asked about me all the time, too, so you were no sneakier than I was.” He raised a hand in an ‘oh well’ gesture and stepped around you back into the kitchen.

“Oh God,” You groaned and your head fell back. “…Fine.”

“Peanut butter?” He called.

Annoyed, you said, “Yea.”

Arms crossed again, you rounded the corner and watched the muscles of his shoulders shift a little under his shirt as he took a knife full of peanut butter and slathered it on the bread. “We have an eight-hour drive to the helicopter, three hours flying to the boat, and then it’s just an hour on the boat to the house. How many do you want?”

“Eight. Six for me, two for you.”

August whipped around with a pained expression “Cold.”

“Fine. Five for me, three for you.”

“Better, but still chilly.”

You walked up wrapped your arms around his waist. “You keep it up, I’ll make it seven for me, one for you.”

“You do not know where my safe house is, I do. Choose your words wisely, miss,” he said, then dabbed a bit of the peanut-y goodness on the tip of your nose. “Are you going to eat that, or do I need to lick it off?”

You pretended to think for a moment. “Lick it off.”

He did, and your eyes and nose scrunched as you giggled. “Fuck, I’m just going to bring the jar.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out later.” He smiled seductively and finished spreading the peanut butter on the bread. “Jam for some, honey for the others?”

“Yea.” He knew you too well.

“You have everything you want?”

You took one last look at the house you and August had secretly—or thought, secretly—shared, not knowing when, or if, you would be back. “I think so.”

When you turned back to him, he was shoving the last of the sandwiches in a paper bag. With his free hand he touched your cheek lovingly. “Baby, I’m so sorry about this. I never wanted to have to take you away from our home.”

“It’s ok.” You placed your hand on his. “You are home.”

August smiled sadly, still feeling guilty, but leaned down to kiss you. “You are home,” He sighed as he touched his forehead to yours. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a guiding hand on your back, August led you through the front door of the house no one else had seen before. “Sorry, it’s probably dusty.”

Once inside, he set the suitcase down and flipped a switch that had the lights above flickering before settling into a soft glow. You looked around the small place that was fully and completely him. It was not a perfect place; shabbier and creakier like an old cabin, which it basically was, but it was your boyfriend. His things were scattered around the place, left over from when he probably had to leave quick. It smelled like him. A manly, piney, citrus scent still lingered even though he had mentioned the last time he stepped foot in the place was three years ago, nine months before he met you. You could practically see ghosts of him from the many times he had been there before. You pictured him making the cans of soup you could see in the cupboard from the wide open doors; or reading the book on the small table by a large chair, the spine cracked from where it split to the page he left off on.

“I don’t care.” You smiled. “I like it.”

Though you couldn’t see it, August smiled too and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind to pull your body against his. He placed a long kiss on your shoulder, then your neck, then your cheek, then his fingers slowly tilted your head to the side so he could kiss your lips.

“I’m glad you like it. You’ll be safe here, Y/N. I promise.”

You chuckled. “If you’re the one watching me, I’m pretty sure I’d be safe anywhere.”

“You know it,” He said, placing another kiss on your neck before releasing you and giving your ass a gentle swat. He picked up the bag and took it to what you could only assume was the bedroom.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

One Month Later

You woke up to the sunlight streaming through a window and turned to find your boyfriend absent from his side of the bed. It was five thirty in the morning when you glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand; way too early to be awake, and you certainly felt the exhaustion from the three rounds you went with August the night before.

You stood and groaned. Your bones seemed to creak along with the bed, but your mood instantly perked up when you heard August’s voice just outside the bedroom door. It was open just a crack and with an attentive ear you could make out his words as he stood tall in the living room.

“He’s permanently locked up then?” He asked the person on the other end of the phone he had in his hand. He listened and nodded a few times, before saying “She is good, I promise.”

…

“No, she’s still asleep,”

August ran fingers through his hair and pressed a button on the phone he had made sure was untraceable. He set the phone down on the counter so he could start a pot of coffee. Then your fathers deep tone came through clear.

“Look, Walker, I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but thank you…for protecting her,” He said, and you smiled at the rare kindness he directed towards your boyfriend.

August poured a few cups of water into the pot and pressed ‘start.’ “You don’t have to thank me, Hunt. You know I love her.” He cleared his throat and ran fingers through his hair again; an action you knew he usually made when his anxiety spiked. “Hunt, about what I asked you before Morocco…”

“I know what I said,” Your father interrupted. “But after all of this…I honestly think you’re the only man for the job.”

And audible sigh of relief slipped passed August’s full lips. “You changed your mind?”

“After I thought about what you said you’re willing to give up, I realized you are serious about this.”

“I am,” August said, a certain determination in his voice.

“You would have to…” Your father paused, ensuring August understood. He had used that tone on you many times as a child. “…you know…give it up.”

August poured a cup of coffee for himself and turned to lean against the counter. You quickly ducked away from the door for fear he could see your eyes spying on him through the small crack, but when you chanced a look back, he seemed to be staring into space, shuffling through his thoughts. “It would be worth it. More than worth it.” August gave a close-lipped smile. “I never really enjoyed this anyway.

You father sighed through the speaker. “None of us really do.”

“That is true.” August’s chest puffed for a second in a silent laugh and took another sip of coffee. “I have to go. Your daughter is spying on me.”

Fuck, you thought. Completely busted. You inched the door open with a guilty look as your boyfriend eyed you and ended the call with a click. After setting the coffee cup on the counter, he crossed his arms and rose an eyebrow at you.

“Not the stealthiest, huh?” You chuckled nervously.

“You might have been had you not been spying on a man in the CIA.”

“Sorry, baby.” August snickered as he reached out a hand. You walked to him and he pulled you in close with a kiss to your forehead. “What were you talking about? It was very cryptic.”

He hummed. “Maybe it’s too dangerous for you to know.”

You looked up and met bright blue eyes. “Is it?”

“…No.”

“Well,” You began, drawing out the word with an innocent smile. “If it wasn’t about a mission, why can’t I know? A civil conversation with my dad is a little suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No, babe. We are the best of pals when we are on assignment.”

August’s eyes lit up as you let out a loud laugh. “Bullshit. Stop delaying and spill it, Mister.”

He swayed you back and forth in his arms, taking some time to think about how to say what you were demanding he tell you. “I plan to take a demotion…of sorts,” He said, way too casually for you.

You pulled out of his arms and your eyebrows knitted together. “What? August—”

“I want to do it.”

“Why? What does it mean for you if you do?” Slowly, he stepped to you and led you to the couch in the room. When you sat, he lifted your legs, laid them across his thick thighs, and placed a hand on your knee. “August…” You said, pulling his attention away from your legs.

His lips quirked up at the ends. “It means that I will be home more. Much more. It means that I won’t be putting myself in as dangerous of situations. It means you’ll be safer.” He raised a calloused hand to cup your cheek and stroked the corner of your lips with his thumb. Your eyes closed as you settled into his touch. “It means I can marry you.”

Immediately, your eyelids shot back open and as your lips parted, August took the opportunity to run that thumb once over your bottom lip before his fingers left your face. “What?”

“When Hunt tells me we are good to leave here, which should be in about a week, it means it’s over. I’m done. I won’t have to go back in the game if I don’t put myself there.”

“Can you do that? Sloane—”

He shook his head. “Won’t be a problem.”

“How?”

“I made a deal with Sloane a few years ago, when you and I started dating. When the time is right, if I take a step down, I’ll do what she asks, train five new recruits to be even better than I am, and…” He paused, “I won’t reveal certain information about her husband.”

Your hand covered your smile of awe for a moment. “You’re actually doing all of this just so you can marry me?”

“Of course, I am. Marriage doesn’t exactly work well when people do what I do. Hunt had to go through losing Julia for the job, but I don’t want to. Especially not with you.” A tear trailed down your cheek that August immediately swiped away. “Don’t cry.”

You moved to straddle him on the couch. Your arms linked behind his neck, and his hands fell to your waist, rubbing up and down your sides until he wrapped them around to settle on your ass. “I love you,” You sobbed. “I can’t believe you are willing to blackmail your boss for me.”

August beamed up at you and brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t blackmail her for anyone but you.” Then he reached a hand to the back of your neck and pulled down until your lips connected with his.

[reinakahara]

Not Even A Storm Can Wash The Tide Away - Chuoku drama track #1 translation

Otome: Is that so. So Nemu-san she… Ichijiku: Yes. Otome: If the effect of hypnosis mic has weakened, we can use the true hypnosis mic to once again- Ichijiku: No, I do not think it’d be necessary for that. Otome: Why? Ichijiku: She sympathizes with our ideology. I believe that she will still be of assistance in the future. Otome: I’m leaving her in your hands then, Ichijiku-san. Do as you wish. Ichijiku: Thank you. *knocks on the door* Staff: Excuse me. Otome: What’s the matter? Staff: I have a message for Ichijiku-sama. Ichijiku: What is it? Staff: The commanding officer of ‘Cleanspeak (Kotosarai)’―Central Crime Department’s Special Forces Unit Keitouin Honobono, has gone to Nemu-san’s room. Ichijiku: Ugh, got it, I’m going now.

*types* Nemu: Hah… What was the predecessor Tsumabira-san doing, not monitoring the perils of each division that need to be kept on a lookout for. I need to take a look at the new data too… Honobono: Nemu-chan, doing good? Nemu: Honobono-san, please knock before you enter the room. Also, can you please refrain from using –chan to call me with? Honobono: My, you don’t have to be so shy~ Nemu: I’ll get angry. Honobono: Ufufufu, you’re cute even when you’re angry~ Oh my, this big sis didn’t intend to say anything that’d warrant that glare of yours though? …Hmm. So these four divisions participated in the final tournament. Nemu: You didn’t know? Honobono: Didn’t have any interest in it, plus I was away on a mission so I had no idea. …Heh, they’re all such fine men~ And the winners from Shinjuku are… eh? Izanami Hifumi…? Kannonzaka Doppo… Nemu:  What is it with these two? Honobono: It’s nothing. (Fufufu, I’m becoming more interested~) Nemu: And so, what do you want? Honobono: If you keep working hard like that, you’ll collapse~ Nemu: If I collapse just from something like this, it’ll mean my level as a person is just at that, that is. Honobono: What a strong determination, let this big sis give you a praise~ Nemu: Just say what you’re here for and get out already. Honobono: Regarding that matter on the other day, I have settled it properly~ Nemu: I haven’t received reports of them getting confined in the special prison though? Honobono: Those kids were my type, so I had them dealt with. Nemu: Honobono-san… Honobono: You got complaints, Miss Vice Chief? Nemu: …… Honobono: No, right? After all, I did talk it through with Ichijiku-san, that it’s okay to do things my own method. Nemu: But… Honobono: But? What? Nemu: I… won’t approve your way of doing things… Honobono: My my, Nemu-chan, you sure can say such cheeky words~ Nemu: …… Honobono: Oh well, whatever. Nemu: Is that all? Honobono: Yeah. Nemu: You could’ve just call or text me about it. Honobono: I came all the way here because I’ve something to ask. Nemu: What is it then? Honobono: Nemu-chan, didn’t you go to Yokohama Division the other day? Nemu: Yes, I did and? Honobono: Heard that you went to deal with your brother Samatoki-kun? Nemu: That’s not it, I just wanted to arrest him… Honobono: And then, you failed? Nemu: …… Honobono: Ah, if so, let me go instead~ Fufufufu, that face of his is my type after all. Must be very fun playing with him~ Nemu: Please stop it. Honobono: You even used your position as the vice chief to go and see him but failed, so I’m just being thoughtful and said it for your sake?   Nemu: Can you please not do things as you want? Honobono: If it were me, I’d have it done in no time. Nemu: Please stop it… Honobono: What? Did you say something? Nemu: I told you to stop it!! Honobono: Oh my, since you pulled out the mic, that means it’s okay if I fight back too, right? Nemu: *starts mic*   ♫「Hah, don’t make me repeat over and over, I’m eliminating the cause of worries through battle, How bad is your hearing that my words are incomprehensible? Now, I cut you down with hypnosis mic, Opening my door at times as if it’s reasonable, Commencing your doxxing manner, You no longer have a part in this, despicable, I absolutely won’t approve of you, never」♫ Honobono: Well then, it’s my turn this time. *on mic* ♫「My, quite full-blooded you are, My hearing is bad, yes so I can’t hear your barks, Challenge accepted, nevertheless you’re a paper doll, Your impudence is nothing but short, I’m a machine gun that rains attack in succession, Going all out, I’m practically a punisher, Be your opponent? It’s right up my alley, My, in that case this fight is quite unlikely」♫ Honobono: Oh, are we done here? Nemu: Not yet. *on mic* *door opens* Ichijiku: What are you two doing? Honobono: And when it was just getting better… Nemu: Ichijiku… -san… Honobono: Nemu-chan attacked me with hypnosis mic so I didn’t have a choice- Ichijiku: Quit the chatter, and leave at once! Honobono: Sure sure, I’m done here then, Miss Chief. Ichijiku: Hmph. …Nemu. Nemu: I’m sorry. Ichijiku: It’s fine, I daresay she’s the one who stirred things up it turned out that way.   Nemu: Ichijiku-san… Ichijiku: However, Nemu, you’re at fault too for letting her play on you. Nemu: I’m terribly sorry. Ichijiku: Try your best not to entertain that wacko. If she pokes her nose into your business, report to me at once. Nemu: But, I can’t just trouble you over something like that- Ichijiku: It’s no problem at all. Nemu: Thank you. …Um, I have something on my mind. Ichijiku: What is it? Nemu: How does Honobono-san came to work as the commanding officer of Cleanspeak? She displays that attitude even with Otome-san and you, Ichijiku-san… Ichijiku: Her Hypnosis Mic ability is convenient for us. Nemu: Convenient? Ichijiku: Yes, she has a troublesome personality but she without a doubt executes her jobs well. Nemu: …… Ichijiku: I’m saying this a lot, but don’t get involved with her outside of work. Nemu: Okay. By the way, what can I do for you? Ichijiku: Oh, you haven’t been resting lately right? How about taking a break at once? Nemu: Thank you for your care. It’s just that there’s a lot to do for the next division battle, so I’d like to get it all done.

Ichijiku: Is that so, don’t push yourself okay? If you collapse, you’ll come to nothing. Nemu: Alright. Ichijiku: Ah yes, let’s go have some meal when we’re free next week, there’s a shop I want to treat you to some good meat at. Nemu: Yes, I’ll be happy to go along with you. Ichijiku: Sure, I’ll contact you again later. Nemu: Okay. Ichijiku: *walks out the room* Honobono: Ichijiku-san~ Ichijiku: What? Honobono: Aren’t you being quite nice to Nemu-chan? Why is that? Ichijiku: Hmp, it’s not all that different though. Honobono: How ever I think about it, it’s clearly a special treatment though? Ichijiku: If so, you’re thinking it wrongly. Honobono: I think you know this but, I’m the type that really wants something that other people cherish. That’s why, when you dote on her that much…… it makes me want to break her! Ichijiku: Try and lay your hands on her, I’ll bury you then. Honobono: Ufufu, that’d be a fun turn of events in a way. Ichijiku: *walks away* Honobono: Say, doesn’t Nemu-chan resemble Natsume-chan? Ichijiku: W-what are you saying… Honobono: I don’t need any more words by that look on your face alone. Ichijiku: Natsume…

Staff: Okay, we’re going on air! Ichijiku: Good evening, I’m Kadenokouji Ichijiku. Today’s top news is as follows. This is a follow-up news on the corruption scandal; the exposure of a president of party comrade’s huge tax evasion.

Ichijiku: Well then, I’m taking my leave now! Producer: Ahh, Kadenokouji, wait a minute. Ichijiku: Sure, what is the matter? Producer: I’d like for you to go do some interview if you can… Ichijiku: Interview, with? Producer: Yeah, the radical political party called the Party of Words; here’s some information. Ichijiku: Party leader, Tohoten Otome? Producer: It appears that they’ve been touting some rather insane political ideologies around. Go and listen to what she has to say, I’d like to release it sometime around next week. Ichijiku: Got it. Producer: Ah, one more… You don’t have to look into that corruption case you’ve been at anymore. Ichijiku: Why?! Producer: …… Ichijiku: Is somebody pressuring us into doing so, or something? Producer: Enough and just do as I said. Ichijiku: Pardon my words, but if we reporters succumb to the authorities, the depravity of the country will be worsened. I don’t want to give in- Producer: Shut it, women shouldn’t be snooping around things like that!   Ichijiku: …… Producer: Get it? This is an order. Ichijiku: This have nothing to do with being a woman…

Ichijiku: Finally~ Natsume: Sister, welcome home. Ichijiku: Natsume, I’m home. Natsume: The dinner’s ready. Ichijiku: Thank you~

Ichijiku: And then, it seems like someone’s been demanding us to stop. I was scolded and he said “women shouldn’t be sniffing about such things!” too. But I’ll never give in to something like that! Natsume: Mm…… mm. Ichijiku: What’s the matter? Natsume: Isn’t it dangerous? Ichijiku: Um… no idea. But I think it’s something that those involved in the press shouldn’t succumb to. Natsume: I really respect that part of you, but… if you think it’s dangerous, stop it right away okay? Ichijiku: Mm, got it.

Woman: Ichijiku, over here. Ichijiku: Ah… You look worn out, Shimozaki-san. Shimozaki: Ah… kinda. Ichijiku: So, what about that thing? Shimozaki: It’s all in this USB. Ichijiku: May I take a look now? Shimozaki: Yeah. Ichijiku: This is… incredible…! If this is made public, arrest can be made, from the local governor all the way to the Prime Minister. …How did you get this? Shimozaki: I’ve been at it as a freelance journalist for a few decades too, it wasn’t for nothing. Ichijiku: Why are you giving this to me…? Shimozaki: I’m backing out from this case.   Ichijiku: You’re backing out? Why? Shimozaki: I have my family. If I go on any further they might be exposed to danger. Ichijiku: Did something happen? Shimozaki: A threatening letter was sent to my workplace. Ichijiku: Threatening letter…? Shimozaki: *sighs* So be it if I’m the one they lay their hands on, but if anything happens to my family… Ichijiku: But… will the government really go that far? Shimozaki: ……This is as far as I can go. Ichijiku, you should be careful too. Ichijiku: Looks like this case is even darker than I thought. Wait, it’s this time already? I won’t make it to the interview if I don’t hurry!

Ichijiku: Excuse me. Otome: Come in. Ichijiku: Do you mind if I put the camera there?   Otome: I don’t, go ahead. Ichijiku: Nice to meet you, I’m Kadenokouji Ichijiku from Koyou TV.   Otome: Nice to meet you too, I’m Tohoten Otome. Please, have a seat. Ichijiku: Thank you. Excuse my haste, but I’ll be asking you a few questions, I’d appreciate your cooperation. Otome: Of course, do ask me anything. Ichijiku: There’s been support from some people towards the Party of Words, however it’s also been said that its political ideologies are quite wild. Otome: I can’t tell if it’s wild… or anything. From how I look at it, we’re merely publishing things that are a matter of course. Ichijiku: ……The ‘Eliminate men, and establish women as the political power’, you mean? Otome: Yes, quite so. Ichijiku: By ‘eliminating the men’, what kind of aim do you have in mind?   Otome: Men are naturally born to fight. There’s no way to leave the country in the hands of those barbaric lots. Ichijiku: I believe there are female politicians around too though. Otome: Even if there are, the male ones are overwhelmingly many, don’t you think? And the leading cabinet are mostly men. For the sake of their self-interest, they indulge in corruption and parachuting, receive dark money. That does not apply only in the political world. You’ve experienced getting oppressed by those kind of people too, haven’t you? Ichijiku: …! Otome: I believe you have, as a fellow female. Ichijiku: Yeah… Otome: That is why, I feel the need to reset the country as soon as possible. If things go on like this the war will repeat, and it can be proven from the history of this country.   Ichijiku: …… Otome: With women as the core, we’ll reconstruct the country. Ichijiku: I see, understood. Thank you very much for letting me hear a valuable talk today. Otome: Not at all, thank you too. …Ah, Kadenokouji-san. Ichijiku: What is the matter? Otome: I believe you’ll come to understand one day what I talked about earlier. Ichijiku: Ah…… Please excuse me.

Ichijiku: The leader of the Party of Words, Tohoten Otome… Setting her thoughts aside, she has a curious persuasiveness.   Reporter: On to the next news. Today at around 5pm, Shimozaki Karin-san and her family has been found dead at the Kyoto’s canal. Ichijiku: Eh? Reporter: The Metropolitan Police is viewing it as a murder case, and is on an investigation progress. Ichijiku: Shimozaki… -san… Shimozaki: I have my family. If I go on any further they might be exposed to danger. Ichijiku: …! Natsume!

Ichijiku: Natsume!! Natsume! Answer me if you’re around! ……S-she’s not here… *phone rings* Huh? A withheld number… Hello? Man: Good evening, I am a secretary of a certain member of the Diet. Ichijiku: ……! Secretary: Have you noticed that your younger sister isn’t there? Ichijiku: Where is Natsume? Is she alright?? Secretary: She is, still unharmed. Ichijiku: Why are you doing this?! Secretary: Now go to the appointed place and bring along the data Shimozaki Karin gave to you. If you don’t… you know what’ll happen, yes? Ichijiku: ……Understood. Secretary: Then listen well, the place is…

Secretary: You’re here earlier than I thought. Ichijiku: Where’s Natsume…? Where is she!? Secretary: The data comes first. I’m taking it. ……Hm, this is it. Ichijiku: Where is she? Secretary: In that room, sleeping. Ichijiku: !! Natsume! Natsume? Natsume? *realizes something wrong* Natsume? Natsume?? Natsume!!! Secretary: I told you she’s asleep. In an extremely still, eternal sleep, that is. Ichijiku: *wails* Wake up!!! Secretary: You don’t have to be so sad, I’ll send you to the same place as her right away. Otome: This is why men are… *mic on* ♫「Your game is up, you foolish lots, If you don’t wish to die, then you boys begone, Boundless lunacy, wretched, how inferior, I’m a match for thousands, unyielding! 」♫ Secretary: W-what was that, what’s going on?? Otome: Kadenokouji-san. Ichijiku: Tohoten-san… w-why are you… Otome: I was targeting the Diet member who’s deploying that secretary of his. Secretary: ……Who the fuck are you? Otome: I don’t have a name to give to a crude being such as you. Secretary: You’re just a woman, don’t look down on me! Otome: Hmph. *mic on* ♫「You lowly follower, don’t make me laugh, Can you fight back in such a state? Will you die a savage death or will you live? I have no need of you, do not get in the way, Tragic history is repeating, with your foolish acts, Armed yet powerless, it’s the dual wielding of words, Now’s the time for steep karma, Men, if you don’t wish to die, step down」♫ Secretary: *screams*

Ichijiku: Natsume… Otome: She is… Ichijiku: She’s my sister… the only family I have… I… I might as well have killed her… Natsume…! Otome: I’m so sorry, if only I had arrived earlier… Ichijiku-san, do you remember the things I said a while ago? Ichijiku: …The things… you said…? Otome: That “men are naturally born to fight”. Ichijiku: Y-yeah… Otome: Therefore we women should have the power, to govern the boorish men. Use this. Ichijiku: This is…? Otome: A hypnosis microphone. Ichijiku: Hypnosis… microphone? Otome: With this mic, we can fight with words. Please come with me. And then, we will prevent any more victims like your sister. Ichijiku: Yes. …Natsume, I will change this world.

Ichijiku: Natsume… Nemu: Eh? Ichijiku-san, did something happen? You’re just staring off into the space there. Ichijiku: Oh, nah, it’s nothing. Nemu: Ah... Ichijiku: Natsume, your sister is still doing her best.

----------------------------------

translation notes:

Regarding the drama track’s title and Kotosarai, the official english translation was provided in the Hypmic website. 

Parachuting here can mean ‘peremptory’, ‘imposition’, and ‘unfair landing into high positions in a corporation etc for lucrative gains, especially those who holds important position outside’. In japanese, it’s called amakudari.

[risukadarlin]

[kuro yoshiwara melancholia] vol. 2: tenshou tatsuki - track two

2; a desire for tears

listen along・masterpost

                                                                                       ✿

The rain is quite horrible.

You’re finally here.

This place is rather sluggish, isn’t it?

Maybe it’s just cultural differences.

I’m not exactly pleased about being made to wait for a harlot.

I assume the fact you’ve brought this girl with you means she’s the one we spoke of.

Hm. That’s you, huh?

Then take me to your establishment right away.

                                                                                      ✿

What is this place?

It’s like a cage.

You want me to evaluate this prostitute here?

And what on earth is that?

Why are you wearing a blindfold? 

What bad taste!

Do the staff here really believe that will incite lust in their customers?

How foolish.

I, at least, now want nothing more than to finish our talk and leave immediately.

But… Hmm… I see…

I could indeed say you look quite attractive like this.

Not that I’m surprised; most high-ranking courtesan​ at least look good.

Oh, I apologise.

I’m Tatsuki Tenshou.

I’m a Commander in the Imperial Navy.

You said your name was Nanami, did you not?

Hm.

But I didn’t come all the way to Kirarou to ask that.

I’ll be direct.

Is it true you have mermaid blood?

So you deflect my question?

But there’s no need to hide it.

For your own sake.

Yes, that’s right.

If it is indeed true, I plan to pay off the rest of your debts immediately.

How does that sound?

I’m the eldest son of the Tenshou family.

You have no objections, of course? 

But I do hope you don’t misunderstand.

I’m not interested in you at all.

Not your face.

Not your body.

Not even that infamous unforgettably beautiful voice of yours.

All of those things you use to seduce and deceive customers have not even a drop of value for me.

I don’t have such dirty hobbies as taking harlots as concubines or wives.

I only want one thing.

The power of immortality hidden in your tears.

I have... personal reasons.

I need it immediately, no matter what.

If you really do have such a power, of course.

Are you really a mermaid?

Or is that a lie to make the game more fun?

Can you tell me?

Unfortunately, I don’t have much time.

If you continue to feign ignorance…

I may have to change my methods.

Of course, I would usually never talk to a person like you.

I’m making a special exception.

Women like you enjoy being humiliated like this, no?

Then it can’t be helped.

I’ll do as you wish.

Cry for me in return.

I’m resigning myself to the disgrace of being with you.

As reluctant as I am, I have to do this to achieve my goal.

That’s why I came to Kirarou.

As a player in this foul Kuroyoshiwara Game.

Now, come closer to me.

This is a trade.

There’s no need to hold back.

You want me to stop?

You say such odd things.

Are you saying you find my courting unpleasant?

Then there’s nothing for it.

The fastest way to verify these rumours is to make you cry.

Then maybe I should just threaten you like this.

It’ll be much easier to cry if you’re terrified.

Ah, just so you know, any sudden movements and you’ll get hurt.

You’ll be lucky if you just get hurt.

You look scared.

Then hurry up and cry like I told you!

I haven’t got time for this!

Not a single tear.

Not a word either.

You have more guts than I assumed.

You merely look weak.

Just as I thought.

Women in places like this always end up having grit.

You’re just like them.

I expected as much of someone who leads men around by the nose for a living.

In other words, I need a better plan if I want your tears.

I’ll leave it here for tonight.

Even if I was just threatening you, I don’t want to be seen waving a blade around.

I might lose my place in the game if I’m seen hurting you.

But I will make you cry soon.

Those odd tears of immortality.

I’ll tell you this now:

Don’t misunderstand me.

I won’t hurt you as long as you work with me.

The higher you decide, the larger your reward will be.

Listen to the rain and think hard tonight.

Then.

Goodbye.

That’s right.

I have no time.

                                                                                      ✿

Why is she going to the bathhouse at such a time as this?

That woman…

Huh? That’s…

Speak of the devil, as they say.

Oi, stop.

It won’t take long.

Oi, Nanami.

What great timing.

I just arrived at Kirarou now.

To talk to you, of course.

I came all this way and you weren’t even there.

You almost greatly wasted my time.

There’s no need to be so clearly on guard.

Your attitude really is something.

Did you forget what I said already?

So, are you going to work with me?

Tell me.

Silence, again.

Well, I thought that might be the case.

Then…

I’ll give you this.

It’s an invitation.

The papers haven’t stopped talking about it.

There’ll be a ceremony celebrating the launching of a new battleship soon.

A party, one might say.

Finally, Japan has made a ship which won’t lose to that of the Great Powers.

You’re not against celebrating the improvement of your country, are you?

Well, telling an uncultured woman such as you about such things is meaningless.

However, after the ceremony by the harbour, there’ll be a party at a nearby hotel.

Of course, it’s not just any party.

It’s a celebration of this country’s progress.

The prime minister and other elite bureaucrats will be in attendance.

My father will be leading the toast, as a fleet admiral in the Imperial Navy.

You understand what this means, of course?

You really are clueless.

There is no greater honour than leading such a toast.

My father’s honour is connected to the whole Tenshou family’s honour.

There won’t be many prouder days for me.

I’m going out of my way to invite you to witness such a moment.

What a privilege!

I know you’re confused.

It’s simple.

This is my new plan.

To obtain your tears, of course.

If threatening you does not work, then I’ll simply charm you into doing as I wish.

But that doesn’t change that I have no time.

And so, I decided the fastest way would be for you to have fun.

How is that?

It’s not an awful affair, right?

And it follows the rules of the game.

There are 5 other competitors in this game.

I don’t know who they are but I’ll lose everything if they sweep you off your feet before I can.

So I merely have to charm you to the point they don’t stand a chance.

I told you, did I not?

I’ve resolved myself to obtain your tears.

I’ll do anything to achieve my goal.

I’ll bear any pain and use any method I can.

If you attend this party, you’ll understand just how much of an honour it is to be under my care.

Even if what I want is not you, but your tears.

There is only one problem.

Usually, it would be impossible for a harlot to sneak into such a splendid affair.

I assume even you understand this?

But I have a plan.

I am going to introduce you as the person I have promised my future to.

Of course, to my father too.

Oi. Don’t misunderstand.

This is simply a means to an end.

I’d never choose someone such as you as my fiancée.

But introducing you as such will give you the rank you need to attend.

You’d be the fiancée of the eldest son of the Tenshou family.

Nobody would be able to disrespect you.

Do you understand?

I’m willing to go this far to allow you to live a fairy-tale-like moment.

Only I am able to do this. 

Even if the other contenders in this game were my family, they would be unable to.

You’re too surprised to talk?

If you choose me now, I’ll give you even more marvellous experiences.

If you cry now and hand over your tears, I wouldn’t even mind marrying you.

People will eventually accept you as some young woman I found and proposed to.

I don’t long for love.

So I don’t care who my partner is.

As long as I am compensated, of course.

Oh? You have no interest in becoming my wife?

So you don’t mind being swept away by some doubtful stranger?

Or would you like to spend your entire life here?

You really are a foolish woman.

Why don’t you stop this stubbornness?

I don’t know if it’s some technique used by prostitutes but it won’t work on me.

Whatever.

I gave you the invitation.

I’ll come to Kirarou to collect you on Friday evening.

Prepare yourself and wait.

I arranged for some trunks to be carried to your room.

They contain dresses and shoes; try them on as you wish when you return.

Yes, I knew you wouldn’t have an opulent dress to wear to a party.

I chose them all.

They’re all first-class goods, fitting for my fiancée.

I’ll be the one to suffer if you turn up in rags at the greatest moment the Tenshou family has faced so far.

And so I decided.

Make sure you dress so you don’t embarrass me or my father.

I bid you adieu.

My mermaid princess.

[btsqualityy]

Scripted: Part 1

Namjoon x Reader; Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, President!Namjoon, Head of Security!Jimin

Warnings: (Reluctant) open relationship, mentions of cheating

“Congratulations to our newest President, who is going to do great things for our country, Kim Namjoon!” Yoongi announced, causing the entire room to burst out into thunderous applause. Yoongi then turned to his right, motioning at Namjoon for him to come up to the front of the room and say a few words. Namjoon shook his head at first but once the applause didn’t stop or let up, he looked over at you. 

“Go,” you whispered as you unwrapped your arm from where it had been resting around his forearm. “We wanna hear our President say a few words.” Namjoon just gave you a wide grin and after handing his flute of champagne off to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, he paced over to the front of the room where Yoongi was standing.

“First off, thank you Mr. Prime Minister,” Namjoon chuckled as he bowed towards Yoongi, who just swatted his hand dismissively. “I have to say that this day has felt very...surreal. This has been a dream of mine for a very long time. I’ve always wanted to help our people and do what’s best for them but when you start to work in politics, it’s not uncommon to become a little cynical about the world around you.

However, once I met my lovely wife Y/N over there,” he smiled as he gestured over to you. “She reignited the passion that I had for helping others, all by believing in me, my message and what I hope to achieve for our people. For that, thank you and I love you.”

“I love you,” you mouthed back, a soft smile on your lips.

“I’d also like to thank all of my supporters, which includes all of the people who worked on my campaign, who spent hours helping me write speeches, and even those who just talked about me to their families and friends. Without you all, none of this would’ve been possible and like I said earlier today in my Inaugural address, I am your President. The people’s President and I vow to always act in the best interests of my people.” 

The room erupted into further applause and you felt your chest swell in pride as you watched Namjoon turn and give Yoongi a tight hug. All of the late night’s where you stayed up to listen to Namjoon’s speeches, the late night flights from one province to another in order to campaign, they were all worth it for the humongous smile that had been on your husband’s face all day. 

“And there’s our gorgeous First Lady,” your best friend Momo Hirai squealed as she walked up to you, with Jeon Jungkook following behind her.

“Oh please, I’ve literally been First Lady for about 10 hours and I’ve done nothing,” you chuckled. 

“Still, the title is yours now,” Jungkook laughed.

“Speaking of titles, congratulations Mr. Minister of Economy and Finance,” you smiled, reaching out and pushing Jungkook’s shoulder lightly which made him blush lightly.

“Thanks. Namjoon hyung had talked to me about potentially doing it if he got elected to office, but I didn’t think it’d actually happen,” Jungkook huffed.

“Please, you’re the best at numbers and Namjoon knows that,” Momo spoke up. “He would’ve been an idiot not to appoint you as Minister.”

“Maybe but we’re still faced with a bunch of old geezers in the National Assembly who think Namjoon’s ideas are too modern and revolutionary,” Jungkook said. “Him getting elected was just getting our foot in the door. The real work starts next week.”

“You guys will be fine,” you shrugged as you scanned the room for your husband, a small frown appearing on your face when you saw him getting quite cozy with one of the young female staffers that had worked on his campaign. “My husband is nothing if not ambitious.”

“Hey, so when can I move into my new office?” Momo asked and you turned to look at her. “You did get me that one that I asked for after we took the tour of the Blue House right?”

“Of course I did and you can move your stuff in on Monday,” you nodded, looking back to where Namjoon was now making the young girl laugh. “I had to fight Namjoon for it, because he wanted to give it to Taehyung but I did it.”

“Taehyung’s already Namjoon’s Chief of Staff, he doesn’t need the extra perk of having the best office too,” Momo scoffed.  

“By the way, you do know that I expect you to actually work?” You questioned as you looked at her again. 

“Duh” she giggled. “I am your personal secretary.”

“I’m serious Mo,” you told her. “I have a lot of appearances and things that I’m gonna have to keep up with in the next few weeks and you have to be on top of it.”

“I got it Mrs. First Lady,” she nodded. “Promise.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you said as you handed both of the champagne flutes that you had been holding in your hands over to her. “My husband owes me a dance.”

“Show offs,” you heard Jungkook mumble as you walked over to where Namjoon was still standing with the young staffer, wrapping your arm around his as you looked up at him which slightly startled him. “What corny joke are you telling this young lady in order to make her fake laugh like this?”

“My jokes are not corny,” Namjoon chuckled. “I just reminiscing with Naeun here about that time that my speech got lost in Daegu and we had to stay up all night writing another.”

“Yeah, the time crunch was crazy,” Naeun giggled. “But we did it and you delivered it beautifully that day Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon smiled and before Naeun could say anything else, you spoke up.

“Hey, the night is almost over and you haven’t even danced with me yet,” you pouted, making Namjoon chuckle as he looked down at you. 

“Guess I have to rectify that then, huh?” He guessed and you nodded before he turned to look back at Naeun. “Excuse us.”

“Oh, of course,” Naeun quickly replied, bowing to the two of you before walking away. You had to resist the urge you had to roll your eyes, since you didn’t know who might be watching your interactions. 

“May I have this dance, First Lady?” Namjoon wondered and you smiled as you looked up at him and nodded your head. 

“Yes you may, Mr. President,” you responded as Namjoon turned and led you further onto the dance floor before turning back to face you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Today’s been a whirlwind, huh?” He whispered and you nodded your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“But it’s been amazing,” you replied. “I’m so insanely proud of you baby.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “And I meant what I said. I wouldn’t have gotten here if it weren’t for you.”

“You’ve always had the vision.”

“But the drive and determination came from your influence,” he finished. “There’s nobody else that I would’ve rather had by my side today.”

“Ditto,” you whispered, leaning up and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before the two of you continued to sway slowly to the music. 

...............................

“So are we all going to church tomorrow morning?” Momo asked as the two of you moved towards the front entrance of the banquet hall that Namjoon’s Inaugural ball had been held in, with Namjoon and Taehyung trailing behind the two of you and your security detail flanking either side of you. About two hours had passed since you’d managed to steal Namjoon away from flirting with one of his staffers and you’d been in a noticeably worse mood ever since, so you were happy when Namjoon finally suggested that the two of you call it a night. 

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to manage to pull ourselves out of bed after tonight but we’ll be there,” you replied with a nod. 

“And if you’re not, I’m coming and banging on the door of the fortress that you two call your new bedroom at the Blue House,” Taehyung spoke up, making you giggle at him.

“No need for that Taehyung-ah, we’ll be dressed and ready by 9am,” Namjoon said and you nodded in agreement. The four of you stepped outside, watching as the valets pulled a multitude of cars up in order to return them to their owners. You watched as a large and white stretch limousine pulled up in front of the entrance before you turned around to give Momo a hug. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered in her ear and she pulled away from you with a large smile.

“Until then, First Lady,” she chuckled, making you roll your eyes in response. 

“Have a good night Y/N,” Taehyung said and you smiled before kissing his cheek.

“Good night Tae,” you smiled. You then turned around and saw that Namjoon was holding the limousine door open for you. You wasted no time in sliding into the limousine, making sure that the train of your dress was inside as well before Namjoon shut the door behind you. He then walked around the back to the other side, thanking the security guard that was holding open his door before getting in as well. You sat back and made yourself comfortable as the driver started up the car and pulled away from the banquet hall and into the streets of Seoul.

About 10 minutes into the car ride, Namjoon finally spoke up for the first time since the two of you had gotten into the limousine.

“You seemed a little out of it during the last few hours of the ball,” he mentioned and you glanced over your shoulder at him from where you had been staring out of the window, shrugging your shoulders dismissively.

“Just tired, I guess,” you replied. “It’s been a long day.”

“You might wanna work on hiding that,” he muttered as he pulled his phone out of his suit jacket pocket, typing something into it. “You don’t want people to say that their First Lady is rude or anything.”

“Today was the first day that we’ve spent more than two hours together in what, three months?” You scoffed. “I’m not used to faking this for longer than that, so please forgive me.”

“For God’s sake, I’m not trying to argue with you Y/N-ah,” Namjoon sighed. “I just want to make sure that all of this isn’t for nothing.”

“Trust me, it won’t be my fault if it is,” you huffed. “I didn’t agree to all of this for no reason.”

“Right,” Namjoon said shortly and the silence fell over the two of you once again, although it was awkward now. After another 15 minutes, the limousine finally pulled in front of the Blue House, which was your new official residence. 

“Namjoon, wait,” you said when you saw him turn for the door, and he arched an eyebrow at you before raising two fingers to the window, which gave the security notice to wait on opening the door for him. “I wasn’t trying to argue with you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon shrugged.

“Joon, I’m serious,” you told him, and he gave you a small smile. “I know things are kind of tense between the two of us, but I don’t wanna fight with you.”

“I know,” he assured you, reaching over and squeezing your hand lightly. “Forget it.”

“Look, why don’t I could draw us a bath when we get inside?” You suggested, trying to extend an olive branch. “You can pop open another bottle of champagne and we can sit and soak for a while.”

“Sounds inciting,” Namjoon chuckled. “But I only came back here with you to make sure that you settled in alright.”

“What, do you have another party to go to or something?” You laughed softly.

“Actually, I’m going to see Naeun tonight,” he revealed and the smile on your face instantly dropped. 

“Tonight? Are you serious Namjoon?” You questioned.

“Y/N, I’ve planned on going to see her once all the festivities and events were done for at least a week now,” he told you.

“And you didn’t think to tell me that?” You demanded to know as you folded your arms across your chest. “If you had, I wouldn’t have expected us to spend tonight together.”

“I thought I did tell you,” he said softly as he moved closer to you, setting his hand on your thigh. “I must’ve just forgotten with everything leading up to today, and it clearly slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

“But do you really have to go though?” You questioned as you looked up at him, deciding to try a different approach to see if it would work. “I haven’t seen you much these last few weeks and I know that I’m not gonna see you much from now on so I thought maybe we could use tonight.”

“Sorry baby but she’s expecting me,” he shrugged. 

“But I’m your wife,” you shot back, glaring at him lightly. “Hierarchy, remember?”

“You remind me regularly,” he laughed but when he saw that you were still frowning, he stopped. “Look, I’m gonna go and stay the night with her because I promised her and I don’t like breaking promises. You know that.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed bitterly and Namjoon sighed heavily as he rubbed his hand over his face. 

“I promise, I’m gonna carve out some time for us before I get too busy, ok?” He said and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t make promises that you can’t keep Namjoon. You’ve already broken a major one, remember?” you hissed and he cast his eyes downward. “Have fun with your whore tonight.”

“Y/N-ah,-”

“Go straight to hell Namjoon,” you growled lowly, lifting your hand and flashing two fingers to the security, waiting for them to open your door before you hurriedly climbed out of the limousine. You were making your way up the front steps when you heard the limousine’s engine start up and you turned around to see it pulling away from the steps back out onto the street.

“The man becomes President and is still a fucking coward,” you grumbled to yourself as you walked into the house, security shutting the door behind you. 

...............................

Tag List: @toddsgirl27​ @leftieaquarius​ @joyfulkmusicfan​ @jennyjq

[tomorrowsdrama]

Dream Sageuk Scenarios and Pairings

I was reading an article about people’s dream fancast for a sageuk after the whole river where the moon rises debacle and it got me thinking about my own fancasts.

Basically, any sageuk involving Kim Nam Gil, Jang Hyuk, or Lee Seo Jin would be a dream cast to me.  I’d include Song Il Gook but he’s pretty much retired from acting so that’s a pipe dream.

For pairings, I would love to see Jang Hyuk and Ha Ji Won in a sageuk together.  I don’t think Jang Hyuk has been in a sageuk with a female actress who is also known for fight scenes like Ha Ji Won.  Since they’re both great at playing badasses, I would love them to be enemy generals from different kingdoms during the Three Kingdoms period who fall in love. They cross swords on the battlefield a few times and fall in love.  Maybe Jang Hyuk admires Ha Ji Won’s prowess in outsmarting him in military tactics and they flirt through seeing who can best the other in fighting.  Since they’re the top generals for their respective kingdoms, the kings/ministers start to worry as it becomes clear that they’re in love with each other. One of them will probably betray their country and die protecting their lover. Preferably dying in their lover’s arms.  Can you feel the angst, pining, and pain of having to choose between love or country?  

I would also love to see Kim Nam Gil and Shin Min A together.  Think of all the sexiness these two could generate.  I’m thinking maybe Kim Nam Gil is a hardened pirate who falls for the sheltered ray of sunshine daughter of a prime minister played by Shin Min A.  Because of political machinations, her father is framed and the entire family is ordered exterminated.  Her father arranges for her to escape the capital on a boat but it gets shipwrecked and she ends up on the shores of Kim Nam Gil’s secret island hideout.  He finds her and sparks fly despite his best efforts to remain aloof.  However, having a beautiful woman amongst a den of pirates is asking for trouble.  He tries to leave her a few times but then each time he always goes back to save her because he can’t help but worry.  A prim and proper noblewoman who melts the cold heart of a deadly sexy pirate?  Yes, please!  One of my favorite tropes is reverse slumming so this would be a dream come true.  

My last dream pairing would be Lee Jun Ki and Moon Chae Won.  These two were fire in Flower of Evil so I would love nothing more than to see them in a sageuk together.  Lee Jun Ki will play a very serious and promising scholar who only knows books and Moon Chae Won will play the flirtatious and playful gisaeng he falls in love with.  The more prim and proper Lee Jun Ki acts, the more Moon Chae Won teases him because she loves to see him lose his cool and get all flustered.  Of course coming from a noble family, his family objects to the pairing and tries to force him to marry a proper lady from a noble family of the same class.  Even though MCW is flirtatious on the surface, she keeps her heart guarded so that she won’t get hurt again.  In the past, she fell in love with another scholar who promised to marry her but was ultimately left broken hearted when he listened to his family and married a noble woman instead.  Many men court her but none of them are serious enough to commit so it’s up to the usually reserved scholar to prove his love to her and show her that she can trust in him.  Will they be able to overcome their class differences and family objections?

Anyway, since kdramaland doesn’t want to see me happy, there’s no way any of this would ever come true.  Actually, aside from Jang Hyuk, I think all the other people might be done with sageuks.  But you never know.  Maybe if you put it out there in the universe, it might come true.

What are y’alls dream pairings and scenarios?

[mangobilorian]

Crash Landing | (mature) i

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Words: 5352

Summary:  This was supposed to be a diplomatic mission between two peaceful neighbors to ensure that the Separatists wouldn’t invade your planets. And as the princess of your nation, you were expected to uphold proper decorum and exercise exact protocol at all times. So why were you laying on the jungle floor, stripped down to your under layers, curled next to a clone captain keeping watch of your tiny cave, miles away from the capital where negotiations were to be held?

White. White and blue. Those are the only colors at the forefront of your vision, aside from the black of the guns. In a stiff formation behind a robed man, are these… troops. Clones, you believe. All centered around the famed Anakin Skywalker. It has been quite a while since a Jedi or any outside military force graced your planet, much less your nation. But the creeping threat of Separatist forces would soon crash on your shores. And your nation, though prosperous, would not survive a Separatist attack without help.

“Greetings, princess. We’re here to escort you on a diplomatic mission to Theatis 06. I am Anakin Skywalker and this,” he points at a man who steps up beside the Jedi, “is Captain Rex.” The clone--Captain Rex-- salutes.

“We’ll protect you from any threat, princess. You can count on us.” You smile at the helmented man, bowing your head in return.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. Accompanying me are my handmaidens and private guards.” Next to you, three girls in modest garb bend at the waist, and two armed men also bow. “Shall we start our journey?” The Jedi nods and directs his men to board the ship. The Captain, however, positions himself to flank you. He walks with practiced precision, his gait calculated like a routine.

Before boarding the ship, you turn to wave at the people who came to see you off. Your parents weren’t there, but that was to be expected. While your mother had gone to Coruscant and you were sent to Theatis 06, your father had to stay and rule the country. The only people that came were the senator and select members of the upper and lower chambers of Congress. They wave back. These people were vultures, their smiles hiding something evil. It would be a relief to leave their grip, so you could finally breathe without faking amity or hiding disdain. One slip up on your part, and these politicians would feast on the royal family. But politics was never your strong suit, and being the princess was tiring enough. A gentle hand on your elbow interrupts your thoughts when you realize with a jolt that you hadn’t moved.

“Sorry, your highness. We have a tight schedule,” the captain says. Your face warms at the contact while your handmaidens’ eyes widen with something akin to fear and curiosity. The guards even assume a protective stance briefly before understanding that you were not threatened. They loosen their arms after you dismiss them with a nod. However, the captain doesn’t seem to notice the intricacy of the situation.

“I… it’s alright, Captain.” You forge ahead, not minding the shocked girls, their faces quickly smoothing over to appear as disinterested as before. Thankfully, the makeup that caked your face hid the creeping blush on your cheeks.

The ship was gray and overall uninteresting. It was your first time on a Republic ship, and the whole ordeal seemed a little too excessive. Why would anyone attack a peaceful meeting between neighboring planets? A simple military convoy was enough, but sending a Jedi seemed a tad too much.

“Princess! Oh, it’s so nice to meet you.” Bounding to your side is an over-eager Togruta. Unable to contain her excitement, she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I’m Ahsoka Tano. I’m Master Skywalker’s padawan. I’ve never met a princess before!” The girl beams up at you. Amazing. Not just one but two Jedi. What was the Council thinking?

“Nice to meet you too, Ahsoka Tano. Yes, I’m a princess, but it’s really nothing special. I’m just a human.” You let out a small, graceful smile. Softened eyes, relaxed posture, eyebrows curved upwards. The facade of a princess. A face to exude warmth and comfort to subjects and allies.

“You’re so cool! What’s it like? Do you have to marry a prince?” Ahsoka sits down on a chair next to you, and you settle yourself into the stiff metal chair as well. In the corner of your eye, the captain stands, watching.

“Sometimes. You see, there aren’t many princes to choose from, so my parents pick someone worthy of ruling. In my country, the royal family is more than just a symbol. We have to be trained in politics, government, and military strategy,” you explain. “So marrying for lineage alone doesn’t cut it. One doesn’t have to be born a prince or princess to marry into the royal family. But royalty is quite tiring. Sometimes, I wish I had a break,” you chuckle. Startled, the handmaidens stare at you. Showing anything but happiness at your duty and family was definitely out of protocol. But who was here to enforce it? Certainly not the scheming congressmen. Besides, the young Jedi seems innocently curious.

“Wow… that sounds complicated. So... military strategy huh? Ever led a battle or maybe fought in one? I know quite a lot about fighting in battles, you know. I could take out battle droids with my eyes closed. And, as commander of the 501st, I’ve led a few missions myself,” she smirks, proud of her achievements. As she should be, you muse. The girl is young and already so confident in war. A sad reality.

“Alright, snips. Quit bragging,” Skywalker says, entering your section of the ship. “We’ll be there in an hour, princess.” He turns to leave for the cockpit, but the girl simply rolls her eyes and sticks out a tongue at her master’s back to which he replies in a similar fashion. The interaction causes a laugh to bubble past your lips. At this point, you feel that you’re handmaidens might be on the verge of fainting from all your breaks in protocol.

“That is very impressive, Miss Tano. War is a very hard thing. I personally have not led any military initiatives. My nation is a peaceful one, and I plan to maintain that peace. An official alliance with the prime minister of Theatis 06 would determine whether or not we can survive an impending Separatist invasion.” The girl nods in thought. She looks around, at your handmaidens, guards, and you. Probably analyzing the foreign clothes, the jewelry, the manner you and your people hold yourself. In a galaxy so vast, many cultures had nuances to everything. As her eyes wander, you eye the captain instead.

He’s standing tall and stiff. All the men had their helmets on, which unnerved you. Their eyes could be anywhere, looking at anyone. They were uniform in their blue and white, but the differences were also striking. While the captain had a pauldron, the others did not. The variances in paint differentiated one man from another. You knew that, as clones, they were supposed to look identical. But you had never seen a clone’s face before.

“Princess, is there something wrong?” You shake your head, not realizing that you had been staring at the captain. Maker, this was so embarrassing. You clear your throat before responding.

“No, captain. I was just… admiring your armor.” The man clearly wasn’t expecting your answer because he almost loses his balance. He coughs, almost shyly.

“Oh. Well, princess, there’s not much to admire. It’s just paint on plastoid.” He rubs the back of his neck with a hand, stance already loosened. The other clones glance at their captain before relaxing themselves.

“Nonsense. If you don’t mind, I’d be grateful to know what your paint signifies.” The handmaiden closest to you gasps. She tries to muffle it, but you catch it in time. Next to you, Ahsoka grins at the captain, unspoken words between them.

“Yeah, Rex. Tell us about your armor,” she teases. He sighs but obeys.

“These,” he points to the top of his helmet, “are jaig eyes. They’re a symbol of honor among Mandalorians. The pauldron is just a sign of rank. And the blue shows that I’m part of the 501st.” Hmm… Mandalorian symbol of honor, huh.

“So you’re a Mandalorian?” He shakes his head.

“Not really, your highness. Our template, Jango Fett, was a Mandalorian, and we know some basic Mando’a. But… we’re not born on Mandalore. Kamino is the closest thing to home.” His voice tapers off, probably due to some deeper feeling with Kamino, but you’re not certain. You’ve heard of the watery planet but never put much substantial thought to it, much like your knowledge about the clone army.

“I see. Thank you, captain, for sharing with me and my entourage. If you don’t mind, I’ll review the terms I’ll discuss with the congress of Theatis 06.” You pull out a datapad, glancing over at the information. By your side, Ahsoka seems to debate staying or leaving. Eventually, she stands up and heads for the cockpit, no doubt wanting to bother her master. The datapad is light in your hands, but the content is heavy. Piles and piles of documents condensed in one small piece of technology. Documents which, if used correctly, would earn you a formal military alliance with Theatis 06. If you lost the datapad, you’re sure that your parents and Congress would personally wring your neck.

The handmaidens relax beside you, finally relieved. This is what good princesses do, you mutter in your head. They focus on their task and don’t break silly rules. Rules set to protect your throne and reputation but silly nonetheless.

The silence and cold of space is not foreign to you, but it’s not common either. You rarely leave your planet, much less your system. Maybe once or twice a cycle, you go off-world for diplomacy or recreation. When you do leave, it’s always the same place. If it’s not Coruscant, it’s Naboo. If not either of those planets, it’s Yidone, Theatis 04, or Theatis 06. On its own, none of those planets were boring. But it gets tiring quickly, especially as a princess. However, that’s probably the spoiled, privileged part of you complaining. Your life of comfort is unimaginable to that of the impoverished people in your nation, the ones being sold into the disgusting sex trade, or those who suffer under an infinite number of tragedies. All of their lives, already horrible, would be even more wrecked under Separatist forces. So you push on with your boredom and complaining. For the sake of your people.

Just as you put your datapad down, a loud crash hammers the right side of the ship. Gasping, you grip the handles of the chair to stabilize, but your handmaidens aren’t so lucky. All three of them are flung from their seats and onto the floor, struggling to stand up. Your guards try to reach you, but they too are knocked off their feet.

“What is going on, captain?” You ask, almost frantically, at the approaching clone. On unsteady feet, he eventually stands in front of you, bracing himself. In this position, you won’t be forced out your chair with the clone acting as a barrier.

“Not sure, your highness. Doesn’t sound too good, though.” Another crash, this time from the top of the ship, further unbalances you. Your body surges forward, but the captain latches onto your forearms, pulling them into his chest. His chest plate digs into your arms, but at least you’re not sprawled on the floor like your companions.

A voice crackles from the captain’s comm. “Rex? Get the princess into an escape pod. A Separatist ship is firing at us. Hurry,” urges Skywalker.

“But, sir, what about you and Ahsoka? Wouldn’t a Jedi protect her better?” A second passes before a response.

“We don’t have time for this, Rex. Look, we’ll meet you down there after we settle this seppie ship. Get your ass to an escape pod, and bring the princess with you,” orders the Jedi.

“Yes, General.” The captain hauls you out your seat, an arm snaking around to grip your waist. In any other situation, you’d be blushing furiously, but only fear resides in your chest. Why was a Separatist ship already here?

The captain leads you down multiple hallways, weaving in out of the ship’s interior. All around you, other clones flit about, readying their positions for battle. In a relatively quiet area, the captain pushes a button open to reveal an escape pod. He quickly positions you inside before taking his own place. He settles in, and the both of you are launched into space without a second to spare.

As you calm your breathing, you begin to feel the tension in your muscles. The pod was obviously made for one person, as indicated by how small you had to curl yourself to allow for the captain to squeeze in. Knees pulled tight to your chest, there is still barely any space. The heavy jewelry adorning your neck only makes you tense up further. Stars, it’s getting hard to breathe. Next to the captain is a black bag, and you wonder how he had the time to grab it. You certainly didn’t remember him bringing it.

But if you two were stuck in the pod with a sole bag… that meant your clothes and, most importantly, your datapad was left behind. You didn’t even have a comm to contact your handmaidens and guards. The pain at the forefront of your head continues to build at the thought. No food, no contact, and no documents.

“Are you alright, princess?” You shake your head, trying to clear up your daze. His helmet is turned towards you, those blue jaig eyes staring.

“I think so. Why… how did the Separatists attack us?” The captain sighs, the breathy noise filtered out of his helmet.

“To be honest, it might be because they got intel about Republic ships coming to escort you. They probably realized that your planet would ally against them, and that didn’t sit well,” he considers. His hands are at the controls, expertly maneuvering them further away from the larger ship. Outside, you can see continuous beams of light aimed at the side of the craft, further jostling it. You hope everyone is okay. Especially your entourage and the excitable Togruta padawan. However, knowing the reputation of Jedi, Ahsoka and Skywalker will definitely survive the attack. You left your people in good hands.

“Captain,” you start, “this was supposed to be a diplomatic voyage. And yet, the Republic sends two Jedi and a legion of highly-skilled clone troopers. Did the Council know that something was going to happen to me? Granted, I am thankful for the extra security, but it seems excessive, does it not? And speak candidly. It’s only us two.” You shift slightly to angle your body to face him, tucking your knees under yourself. He doesn’t respond immediately, opting instead to stare out at the approaching planet of Theatis 06.

“I’m not authorized to say too much, and frankly, I don’t why we were sent either. So many other planets could use our help to directly fight off the seppies. Yet… here we are,” he sighs. “But I promise to keep you safe no matter what. As for your people on the ship, they will be taken good care of. Don't worry, princess.”  The crackle of the comm drives your attention to the console.

“Rex? Are you and the princess alright?” Ahsoka’s voice carries over, clear concern lacing her tone. Somewhere behind her, Skywalker’s commands ring out, ordering the men to keep order.

“We’re okay, commander. How is the situation over there?” The sounds of grunts and chaos pass through the comm before she speaks again.

“We’re--ugh-- fine, Rex. Just. Trying. To--kriff--stabilize this ship. See you on-”

Before the captain could respond, a loud crash sends your small pod hurtling in circles.

The momentum dizzies you, and you blindly reach out for something to grab on. Your hands tightly grip the closest thing, the captain’s arm, while the pod continues to spin. In this moment, his plastoid-covered arm and the floor below were the only solid things that existed. In front of you, the captain curses, trying to stabilize the craft to no avail.

The black color of space mixes with the blue and green of Theatis 06, circles and swirls of light and flashes. A heavy feeling of bile threatens to climb out your throat, but you push it down.

“Brace for impact,” orders the captain, and he moves away from the pod’s controls. Quickly, he encases you in his arms, one hand tucked behind your head, pulling you close to his chest. In a moment of clarity, you wrap your arms around his torso just as his free hand grabs the nearby bag and holds it behind you. He successfully entangles the two of you, making you as compact as possible. You shiver at the excessive contact. It’s been so long since you had prolonged touches with someone, much less a hug for survival. Overhead, a beeping noise indicates an oncoming collision.

You feel it before you realize. As your pod enters the atmosphere, it spirals further out of control at even faster speed. In space, it was merely uncontrollable loops. But as you crash into Theatis 06, the air pressure forces your small spacecraft to act as a bullet. There was no way you were going to survive the crash.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. Already, you’re praying to the Maker and to the Force or whatever higher power exists that you and the captain will survive. You just wish you could see your parents and country one last time. You hope that-

The sound of rustled tree tops interrupts your thoughts, jostling the two of you. As you peer up at the captain's helmet, the pod hits the ground, the impact shaking you to your very core. And everything goes black.

*****

It’s beautiful. The ocean waves pull up against the shore before receding back, its foamy crest creating shapes of all sizes. On the horizon, the three moons of your planet begin rising, the deep hues of red and purple illuminating the water. Next to you is someone in a full suit of armor. Mostly white with blue paint marking it. Behind him is a robed person. They take off the hood, revealing themselves. But they don’t have one face. Like a slideshow, the faces of politicians, your handmaidens, yourself , melt together. The person raises their hand, and the barrel of a blaster is pointed right at you and--

You sit up, gasping. The air in your throat is dry: suffocating and scratchy. You try to pry off your necklaces to alleviate the pain to no avail.

It was just a dream. A wonderful dream at the start but… it devolved to something much sinister. You crack your neck, stretching your arms out only to hit something hard. And that something groans . Immediately, you open your eyes to see a passed out Captain Rex laying next to you.

Slowly, pieces of your voyage and subsequent crash come together in your mind, and you realize that you probably landed on one of Theatis 06’s numerous jungles. Grunting, you stand up, joints cracking in protest. The top part of the pod was completely gone, as is a side piece. You hobble over to control panels, trying to see if the comm worked. Sadly, the whole thing seemed destroyed. This was worse than you thought.

You had one crashed escape pod, no way to contact your escort group, and one sleeping clone trooper.

“Princess?”

Well… that makes zero sleeping clone troopers. You turn to the captain to see him rise to his feet. He stretches briefly before joining you next to the control panel.

“Does anything work?” His voice is scratchy, with a hint of warmth despite being filtered. You give a defeated sigh. After button smashing the console in frustration, there is still no sign it was operable.

“Unfortunately, nothing does. I guess we’re stuck here momentarily, captain.” He doesn’t say anything, opting to grab the discarded bag on the ground. He lugs it over himself, wearing it like a backpack and motions for you to follow him.

“We’ll travel to the closest city and find a way to send our coordinates to General Skywalker. For now, we should get some shelter and stay out of danger.” You nod, satisfied. The captain looks around then, seeing a viable path, jerks his head in that direction and walks off. You follow behind him, making sure to not snag your clothes on the flora.

As you journey onward, sweat begins to drip down… everywhere. Your face, neck, back. It gathers underneath your jewelry, seeping into your heavy robes. The cloying heat of the jungle was suffocating, the humidity clinging to every part of you. You can only imagine how much heat the captain had to endure under his armor.

The jungle wasn’t a quiet place. Sounds of birds chirping, distant animal growls, and your own footsteps echoed off the forest floor. In another time, this trip would be considered pleasant. You were, after all, surrounded by beautiful, exotic nature. But the reality of the situation only deepened the further you walked.

Next to you, the captain stayed silent. He dutifully carries the bag, twin blasters at his sides, and head aimed forward the entire time. Occasionally, he steadies you with a free hand when you slip on a rock or trip over a root. Even then, he doesn’t say a word. With each step, your muscles continue to ache. Your leg muscles are especially sore, and the back of your head is tender at the touch, probably due to the crash.

After what feels like hours, the captain finally stops moving. You, however, don’t notice, and collide right into his back, almost sending the two of you flying forward. You apologize under your breath then look to see why the captain had stopped.  

A cave. A small cave with vines covering the entrance. You would have missed it if the captain hadn’t seen it. He steps towards the mouth of the cave, brushing aside the vines. You enter after him, and sit down on the ground. You sigh in the relief at the reprieve from walking. The captain sets the bag down in front of you and opens it.

Peering into the bag, you see a medkit, a canteen, extra ammo, a comm, and… rations. Maker, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you saw those rations. Only now, the ache and noise of your stomach was noticeable.

The captain also settles down on the ground, legs spread apart, knees bent. He looks so relaxed--too relaxed-- for someone who was stuck with a princess in a foreign forest. He sorts through the supplies methodically, like he’s taking inventory.

You shrug off your heavy clothing, groaning at the air that hits your skin. Off goes your cloak, then head wrap, and lastly your skirt. All you’re left with is a black layer meant for temperature regulation and sight blaster protection. On top of that is a loose cotton slip dress, allowing the miniscule breeze of the jungle to provide you with some cooling. You try to remove your jewelry, but… you don’t know how to. You’ve never done it yourself.

“Captain? Would you mind removing my necklaces for me?” The helmet jerks up, interrupted from his organizing.

“Of course, princess.” He stands up and positions himself behind you. He shrugs off his gloves, bare, tanned hands reaching to the clasps. Grunts of concentration filter out of his helmet, probably in confusion at the locking mechanisms. It was, to his credit, a pretty complicated piece of jewelry. After a minute or two of struggle, the necklaces come loose. He sets it aside, on top of your discarded clothes.

“I’ll start a fire, stay here.” He starts to get up, but you grasp his wrist.

“This is a rainforest, captain. All the wood is wet and won’t burn. Try looking for the eyti leaves instead.” You describe the plant to him in detail, watching him nod in confirmation.

“I’ll be back, your highness. Here,” he reaches to his side and pulls out a blaster, “for emergencies.” He sets off, disappearing past the vines.

The air is thick around you, the urge to sleep becoming more tempting. You don’t even realize your eyes were closing, and jostle awake when you hear the snap of a twig. Snap .

Crack .

You rise slowly, clinging to the side of the cave. You brush aside a few vines, gripping the blaster until your knuckles turn white. You hold your breath and look out.

Green eyes. Massive green eyes stare right at you. Stars, that was a massive feline. You wrack your head for information regarding Theatis 06 jungle cats. You’re sure you learned about them somewhere in foriegn history class. But the growl leaving the cat’s bared mouth shakes you out of your thoughts. Stay calm. You’ll stay calm, move slowly, and breathe at a steady pa-

The cat lunges at you, and you raise your armed hand on instinct, frantically trying to pull the trigger. A shot rings around the area, and the cat slumps down, falling hard. The heavy thunk of its body ruffles the forest floor. You release the breath you were holding. Wait.

The blaster mark wasn’t on its front. It was on the cat’s back . From your periphery, Captain Rex steps out from between the trees. He marches over to you, setting down the eyti leaves before grasping your shoulders.

“Are you alright, princess?” You nod mutely. He leans down and picks up the blaster from the ground. You didn’t even know you’d dropped it. If he hadn’t been there… you don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened.

“I’ll start the fire.” The captain’s hands leave you, the absence of his warmth making you frown for a brief second. He piles the leaves into a mound in the middle of the cave floor. “I’ll get some rocks,” he starts, but you hold up a hand.

“I’ll do it. I’ll stay close, don’t worry.” Before he could protest, you’re already out of the cave. The search for rocks isn’t difficult, but halfway through it registers that you left the blaster. Well… you hope those jungle cats don’t travel in packs. Your small expedition was pleasant. The course you set wasn’t too far from your cave, and you get to admire the jungle without your restrictive clothes and jewelry.  

After a few minutes in the heavy heat, you gather enough rocks for a small pit to contain the eyti leaves. You use your shirt to hold the rocks, stretching the fabric to a concave and containing them. You return to find the captain at the mouth of the cave, stiff and wary, a hand ready on his blaster. He only seems to relax once he sees you.

Together, you set up the fire pit, but don’t light it yet. The captain leaves the cave with a knife, mentioning how he had to skin the dinner. You hobble over to the comm to see if you could connect to any signal. Nothing. You were too far to contact anyone. You slump in your position and stare at the cave wall. How did things get so bad?

After a while, the captain returns with the skinned meat of the jungle cat. Together, you start the fire and prepare some sticks to use for skewering the meat. Outside, the insects buzz and the frogs croak, the darkness sweeping over to indicate night. The transition between light and dark begins.

The two of you cook the meat in silence, leaving you to ponder. With each piece of meat that’s done, you plop it into your mouth with no hesitation. It tastes… like the green hens from back home. Pretty unseasoned and a little lean, but not horrible. The captain doesn’t eat his pieces immediately, setting them aside when he’s done.

Soon enough, you’ve eaten through your share, satisfied and full. A large dinner without using the precious rations is a success in your book. The captain, however, has yet to eat his food. Once all his pieces are cooked, he brings his hands to his helmet and tugs it off and… you’re speechless.

Light blond hair atop a well-structured face. Eyebrows that arch beautifully, a sharp nose, and a prominent jawline, the hard lines of stress and war prominent on his forehead. The thin line of his lips are downturned. And his eyes . The hooded, gold-brown eyes that reflect the flickering firelight. This man might have been the most handsome you’ve ever seen. And there’s a whole army of people who look just like him.

“Princess? Something wrong?” You jolt at his question. Kriff, this was the second time you had stared at him today. Heat warms your cheeks. You cough into a closed fist.

“Nothing’s wrong, captain. And you can call me by my name. I think we’re past formalities.” He lets out a small smile but shakes his head.

“Don’t think I can do that, your highness. Have to follow orders and call you formally.” You pout but don’t respond, instead taking the time to further admire him. His voice is even more captivating without the helmet. Maker, it was so smooth and melodic yet stable and- kriff when were you so attracted to a voice ? He starts eating, but those ochre eyes flit to yours, and you turn away.

To distract yourself, you pick up the canteen of water, and take a few sips. As you search through the contents of the bag, you find a compact mirror. You open and see… something horrible.

Your makeup has been smudged to all hell. The gold of your lipstick is smeared down to your chin, and the white paint on your face is half gone. The intricate golden markings that decorate you are no more than muddied lines, and there are visible sweat trails that erased the color on your forehead. You were such a mess. While you look like a melted dolly, the captain sits there looking all majestic. This was so unfair .

“Is everything ok, princess?” You close your gaping mouth and turn to the captain.

“You never told me that I looked like this ,” you frown, pointing at your face. “I look horrible!” The captain chuckles, the breathy sound sending shivers to your chest.

“With all due respect, I didn’t think it was my place to point it out. And you don’t look bad, either. We just crash landed in the jungle. Of course your makeup would be ruined.” His eyebrows arch, confused at your frustration. You huff.

“It’s just so unfair. You get to look like… that , and I’m here looking like a blurrg stepped in paint and walked over my face!” You bring a hand to your forehead in exasperation. Sure, you were being dramatic, but a princess should never have to be in such a sorry state. The captain has the nerve to look even more bewildered.

“I’m not sure I understand, princess. I look normal, like all my brothers.” A grumble about how he’ll never understand your predicament escapes your lips. The captain reaches for one of your discarded clothes and sets the lip of the canteen on top, dampening the fabric. “Here,” he gestures, “so you can wash up.”  You grasp at the cloth, gently swiping at your face. Paint stains the rich, expensive robe, but you don’t really care.

“Thank you,” you croak, face feeling fresher and cleaned. The captain nods at you, arranging your clothes to form a pile.

“Sleep. I’ll keep watch,” he advises.

“Shouldn’t we take turns? It’s no use if you’re tired tomorrow.” He considers your words then sighs.

“Alright. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn,” he decides. You lay your head atop your clothes, settling down on the hard ground. Pebbles dig at your back, and your neck aches at the lack of support, but it’s not as horrible as you would’ve imagined.

“Good night, Captain Rex,” you whisper, eyes already closing. The exhaustion from your long hike takes over your body. It seems that your adrenaline from the day is long gone.

“Good night, princess.”

[nanoland]

am writing hellblazer fic asfdfsfff

title: The Cave

fandom: Hellblazer

characters: John Constantine, Chas Chandler, the First of the Fallen

blurb: John gets lost in a cave. 

warnings: Depression, covid19, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered. 

0 

It was when the death toll had crested 100,000 that he’d snapped and made his way to Number 10 Downing Street with murder in his eyes and a briefcase full of every cursed artefact he owned.

“What are you gonna do, eh?” bellowed Chas, who’d been following behind him in his cab for the last half mile. He’d already tried to physically drag John into it and had received a bite on the hand for his trouble. “Chuck ‘em through the windows? That’s bulletproof glass, John! Fuck’s sake! Be reasonable!”

“Stop sodding shouting!” John shouted over his shoulder, wiping rain off his face. “You’ll spread sodding germs!”

“John, I already had it. Four months ago, remember?”

“You can have it more than once! Christ, does nobody in this city read the papers but me?”

It was fair to say that John wasn’t at his best. In his defence, he’d spent the last year sitting inside his tiny, poorly-ventilated, roach-ridden flat, vividly imagining what a respiratory virus would do to lungs that had suffered over forty years of heavy smoking, two run-ins with cancer, and the actual devil sticking his actual great big grubby clawed hand in ‘em. No fucking thank you.

Chas sighed heavily and climbed out of the cab again, slamming the door as he did. He splashed through a dozen puddles before coming to stand in John’s path, arms folded. “Listen, Conjob. I love you. Even when you’re a complete prick, which is most of the time. And I know you can do amazing things. But mate, hear me out; you cannot assassinate the British Prime Minister.”

“Someone bloody has to!” John Constantine, greatest wizard of his age, screamed at the top of his wretched, ragged, Satan-besmirched lungs.

Eventually, Chas managed to calm him down and get him home for a cup of tea.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” John grunted as his socks dried in front of the heater and the rational parts of his mind re-exerted themselves.

“S’alright.”

“How’s the bite?”

“Didn’t pierce the skin. John, you need a break. A holiday. You need to get out of town for a few weeks. Go breathe fresh country air, do some weird mystical shit with a goat, whatever it is that sorts your head out these days. But you can’t carry on like this, mate. I haven’t seen you this miserable in years.”

He handed John one of Renee’s strawberry-patterned towels. Dragging it across his face, John grunted, “Holiday? At a time like this?”

“Why not? Makes as much sense as any other time.”

“What if you come down with it again? Or Geraldine? Or Renee?”

“John,” said Chas, gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You already tried to cure me with magic. It didn’t work. At all. Just wasted a lot of chicken blood and Renee’s best spoons. Get this in your skull: there’s nothing you can do. Alright? I know you hate that, but it’s the truth.”

John swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Alright.”

So he went home to his tiny flat, stuffed fresh socks and his toothbrush into a backpack, booby-trapped his front door, and fled London in the dead of night, feeling like one of those gits in Boccaccio’s Decameron.

0

“It’s called glamping.”

“Some new wizardy stuff, I’m guessing?”

Chas’s voice over the phone was distracted, like he was half-watching the telly. John was relieved; he’d wanted to hear another human speak but wasn’t feeling up to a proper conversation demanding his usual levels of sparkling charisma and staggering wit. Not right now. Not without weed, and he’d not thought to bring any.

Nestling deeper into his teak folding chair and drawing a thick woven blanket up over his knees, John said, “Nah. Not buggering about with any of that old guff until I’m back in town. Promised myself.”

“Right.”

“Don’t sound so sceptical, you git. I’ve done it before.”

“Mm-hmm. What’s your record? The longest you’ve ever gone without doing anything mystical and creepy?”

“‘Bout… hmm. Three days.”

“You’re coming up on the tail end of that right about now.”

“I know. Chas, on my word, I am going to make it to Sunday without so much as sniffing around a graveyard or wanking off a werewolf. I am on holiday.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. Good for you, mate. So what’s this ‘glamping’ business, then?”

“It’s camping. But posh. I’m sitting up here atop a hill in Yorkshire with a tent the size of a cathedral and me chic woodburning stove and me box of white wine and feeling like the yuppiest old cunt who ever drew breath.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s why I chose it over a nice comfy bed and breakfast. Figured I’d wake up with a cow shitting on my head and could use that as an excuse to come home early. Actually, though… it’s alright. Quiet. There’s a river at the bottom of the hill where these giggling honeymooners like to have a morning bonk but it’s far enough away that I can’t hear them unless they’re really having fun. And the weather’s been alright. It’s all surprisingly decent.”

“And you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. I should have come with you. You get all weird and introspective when you’re left alone for more than a couple days.”

“I’m not alone. There’re birds. Squirrels. A few ghosts hanging out by the toilets.”

“John.”

“Ain’t gonna talk to ‘em! Mind you, one did give me a wink when I was zipping up. How’s everything back home?”

“Er – look, I won’t lie, it’s shit. It’s all shit. But it’s not any more shit than it was when you left three days ago. Not any worse, not any better, yeah?”

“Right.”

(Stupid to be disappointed. Stupid that a part of him had secretly believed that as soon as he abandoned the sinking ship that was London, things would miraculously get better for everyone, even as another part of him, on the opposite side of his brain, had been convinced – maybe even hoped – that the moment he was gone, the entire city would descend into screaming anarchy, at which he could point and laugh from a safe distance.)

“Listen, John, I’ve gotta go. Renee needs groceries. Be careful, please?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t fuck about with any occult bollocks. Don’t go foraging for brain-melting mushrooms. Don’t do anything. Just stay in your tent and read your dirty books, yeah?”

“Heard and understood, Mum.”

“Bastard.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

John dropped his phone onto the grass and stared up at the sky. A herd of thin grey clouds drifted past. Off in the distance, he could just make out the shape of a barn – or was it a church? Either way, there were sheep next to it.

A squirrel scurried down a nearby tree trunk and then up another one.

Yawning, he scratched his chin. (Getting scruffy. Hadn’t shaved in two days now.)

“Should prob’ly do some reading,” he mumbled to no one.

A few minutes passed.

He dangled his head back behind his seat and sang quietly: “First produced my pistol… then produced my rapier… said ‘stand and deliver’, for he were a bold deceiver… mush a-ring dum-a do dum-a da…”

Heaving a sigh, he stood up and walked around his tent to dispel pins and needles, then went inside to read his book.

“I am not bored,” he muttered fiercely, staring down at pages that might as well have been blank.

“Oh, but you are, John.”

England’s greatest wizard jumped up, wielding his novel as though it were a club, and dealt a devastating blow to empty air while screaming something along the lines of, “Raargh die die die!”

Then he waited for a moment to see if the voice returned. Tried to determine whether he could sense anything. Nope. Admittedly, that didn’t mean much these days. Lots of beasties and bastards out there had learned how to hide from him.

“Either I’m hallucinating or someone’s pissing me about,” he concluded, placing his hands on his hips. “Chas, mate, I’m sure you would agree that either constitutes a fine reason to leave this fucking tent.”

And leave he did. 

0

He went caving.

The BBC had published an article a couple years back calling the UK’s cave systems its ‘last true wilderness’. He and Chas had had a good long laugh over that, Chas suggesting that John take the caver quoted on an expedition to Faerie or maybe direct him toward any of the two hundred portals to Hell between Plymouth and the Orkney Islands.

But the article had stuck with him. Perhaps it was the obvious love the caver had for his hobby, the clean and simple joy he got out of crawling around in dark, damp holes. John was always drawn to people like that, and not just because it sounded smutty.

(Imagine if he’d loved something clean and simple; gotten into bird-watching or carpentry instead of magic. Would have saved him a lot of hassle.)

Idly, one evening, he’d poked around on the internet – now that, that really was the last true wilderness – until he’d found a map listing all the cave systems in the UK, along with a guide to which were popular, which were dangerous, which were good for a family holiday, and yes (inevitably), which had been the scenes of grisly accidents.

(Wikipedia said that historically there’d been only 136 fatalities ‘associated with recreational caving’ in the UK and that, statistically, it wasn’t a particularly dangerous hobby. Hadn’t stopped him from having vivid dreams about bodies wedged in tiny tunnels miles below ground, cooling and rotting and bloating, except how could they bloat when there simply wasn’t enough room, what happened when…

Anyway, Chas had eventually rescued him from his maudlin musings and dragged him to the pub.)

And while his memory was a messy old thing, especially these days, that just happened to be the sort of useless information that tended to hang around in his head for years, like the words to every song in Sweeney Todd or the rituals required for an exorcism spell that didn’t actually work, doing nothing but taking up space.

There was a cave only a few miles from the campsite.

When he arrived, he beheld a clumsily painted sign nailed to an oak tree next to the entrance:

CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC UNTIL SPRING

NO TRESPASSERS

HAZARDOUS! ENTER AT OWN RISK

He lingered at the cave’s mouth. Though it was big enough for him to stand up in, it made for an unassuming sight. Squirrels played in the old oak with three sets of lovers’ initials carved into it that stood at its left and the pathway leading up to it was strewn with weeds and wildflowers.

“Am I really this stupid?” he pondered aloud, before correcting himself: “Am I really this bored?”

After five minutes’ internal debate, he decided that yes, he was.

He took a step towards the narrow crevice, before stopping himself. No. This was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he turned and walked away.

Three hours later he was back, now with a good pair of leather boots (stolen from an arsehole in a nearby village), a Power Rangers backpack (given to him by a kid in exchange for a cigarette and some magic tricks), a cheap flashlight, two cans of lager, and a packet of crisps (paid for with the last of his cash).

“Off we go, then,” he said, and marched into the dark. 

0

Like a well-fed leopard on a low-hanging branch, the First of the Fallen lounged across his throne of vertebrae, long black hair dribbling off his broad shoulders and pooling on the ground. Though he was wide awake, his eyes were closed. This, combined with the corpses of three supplicants dangling from nearby steel hooks, would hopefully discourage anyone from bothering him for the next few hours.

“My liege?”

Shit.

He kept still. Said nothing. Perhaps they would go away.

“Um… my liege, I’m terribly, monumentally sorry to disturb you, but…”

With a wave of his claw, the messenger exploded into red mist.

When, ten minutes later, a second messenger summoned up the courage to approach him, he realized that it must be very serious indeed.

“You have five seconds,” he said cordially, holding them up by the neck.

“Con… constantine!” they croaked.

Brightening, the First set them down. “Indeed? What’s the little bastard up to this time, eh?”

“Nothing, my liege. He’s dead.”

A few minutes later, a fourth corpse hung from a hook and the throne of Hell was empty. 

0

To the First of the Fallen, caves were still a novelty.

Confined spaces, in general, were still a novelty.

At 13.6 billion years, he was only slightly younger than the universe. While solid planets had come into existence around the same time, he’d not actually visited one until the emergence of homo sapiens and his subsequent quarrel and falling-out with God – a mere 300,000 years ago.

Cast from Heaven, naked and freezing cold, he’d stumbled into a rocky cranny by the shoreline and wedged himself between its slimy walls. That was his earliest memory of ever being ‘indoors’. No surprise, then, that he avoided such places when he could. He had built no castles in Hell; his throne sat atop a mountain beneath an endless red-gold sky.

But right now, it wasn’t the cave that had his attention, dark and chilly and, yes, slimy as it was.

“Stupid turd,” he grumbled, glowering at the corpse. “Ow!”

He’d bumped his head on the cave ceiling again. It was too low for the average human to stand upright, much less an eight-foot primordial being.

Constantine stared at him, blue eyes blank and glassy. His body was unmarred save for the dent in the left side of his scalp, which had stopped leaking some time ago. As far as the First could tell, his nemesis had simply tripped and fallen onto an unfortunately positioned, unfortunately sharp rock.

The First spat on his tie and snarled, “Pathetic! What the fuck are you even doing here, eh? And – God’s hairy bollocks, when did you last bathe?”

His soul was still dangling off him, like drool from a dog’s mouth. Heaven, obviously, had no interest in him and the First hadn’t yet authorised his admission into Hell.

Because he wasn’t ready, dammit.

He’d not been expecting to welcome John home for at least another thirty years.

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you?”

When he reached down to take hold of the soul – such a grubby, tattered thing – it bit, blazing gold for a sliver of an instant before he snatched his hand back. Stuck his index finger in his mouth until the sting abated. Fumed.

He tried again, grasping it firmly, as one might a snake. It thrashed. He gave it a disciplinary shake before opening Constantine’s mouth with a claw and forcing it down his gullet.

Coming back to life was never enjoyable. Constantine spasmed and gurgled, legs and arms contorting as pink foam gathered at his lips. The First, bored, sat down beside him, reclining against the cave wall with one knee crooked. Surveyed their surroundings. The ground was – oh dear – littered with crisp crumbs, an empty foil packet, two cans, and dozens of cigarette butts. How foul.

“Disaster in your wake, as ever,” he commented, tutting.

Constantine groaned, eyelashes fluttering.

Belatedly realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see in this subterranean gloom, and very much wanting to afflict him with the identity of his saviour, the First snapped his fingers. A dozen lit candles appeared across the cavern, hovering ghost-like in mid-air.

“Urgh… fffu… whu… oh, Christ Almighty.”

Watching him sit up, the First assumed a lordly expression, tilting his head. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Unhealthily pale skin and facial muscles stretched and twisted to an indeterminable end.

Then John Constantine set his jaw.

Growled: “I’m on holiday, you bellend.”

And passed out. 

0

He awoke to the smell of slightly burnt waffles.

Better than burnt flesh, which was what he’d anticipated after His Infernal Bloody Majesty had popped in for a fag and a chat. Certainly better than sulphur.

“For you,” the First of the Fallen purred.

A white plate – averagely-sized but rendered absurdly dainty by the dimensions of the clawed fingers holding it – was set down in front of him.

He frowned at its golden-brown contents. “The catch?”

“No catch. I was peckish. I imagine you are, too.”

“Come on. Not in the mood. Did you piss on ‘em? Did you mix a baby’s blood into the batter?”

“Honestly, John.”

Scratching his chin, he reviewed the facts. Still in the same sodding cave, albeit far better illuminated than the last time he’d been conscious. Alive, but with that unmistakable stiffness that he’d come to associate with having recently been dead. Cold. Irritable.

Hungry.

His archenemy’s smug smile was almost enough to make him spit the first bite back out. Instinct borne from months of extreme poverty forced him to swallow instead.

“Tastes like shit,” he remarked, wiping his lips. “But I suppose you usually have minions to prepare food for you. Where’s the syrup?”

A regal sigh, before a bottle appeared beside the plate. He emptied a third of it and spent the next few minutes in delicious, sticky silence.

There were, as ever, consequences to allowing the First of the Fallen centre stage. The moment the big smelly git realised that John really wasn’t in the mood for banter, he waved a hand and conjured up a thin hardback with Into the Underworld: The Amateur’s Guide to Caving in Britain on the front.

As John rolled his eyes and stuffed another waffle into his mouth, the First cleared his throat and read: “‘According to the National Speleological Society, the minimum number of people required to safely embark on a recreational caving expedition is four – at least one of whom should have prior caving experience.’ Did you know that, John?”

John chewed sullenly.

“I did. I’d wager that most people do. At least, I’d wager that most people know that going caving in groups smaller than two – going caving alone – is wildly inadvisable. Caves are dangerous, John.”

Where were his cigarettes? Had the bastard nicked them?

“And… let’s see – ah! Here we are. ‘There is a great deal of commercial equipment available to a first-time caver, some of which is necessary, some of which is not. Two items, however, that are absolutely non-negotiable are a helmet and a helmet-mounted light.’ Do you have either of those, John?”

“Do I criticise your fucking hobbies?” he exploded, knowing better, knowing it would only encourage him. Sugary crumbs flew everywhere.

“You do, in fact. Often. And quite understandably. My favourite hobby is murdering your friends, after all.”

John threw the plate at his head. 

0 

He’d had a good sense of direction even before he’d learned how to see psychic residue coating streets and walls, left behind by previous travellers. Always scurrying around in places no kid should; subways, sewers, dirty basements, any haunted house his greedy little eye fell upon.

When he’d reached sixteen, burgeoning schizophrenia had muddled him up now and then. Occasionally, it’d even left him standing in streets he didn’t recognise with no earthly idea how he’d got there. PTSD had compounded the problem.

Even so, at fifty plus, he didn’t make a habit of getting lost. Meds, practice, and years of experience meant that he could walk from Chas’s house to Saint Paul’s with a blindfold on.

Long story short: This was embarrassing.

“I’m fairly sure we’re going in circles. That stalactite is very familiar.”

And he certainly wasn’t fucking helping.

(The floating candles, following them like ducklings, were. John’s torch had broken when he’d tripped. Still, he didn’t need the First of the Fallen for light. Could conjure it up himself, no bother. It just made sense to avail himself of a primordial being’s infinite magical resources before dipping into his own, far more limited stockpile.)

“Do you know the way out?” John asked, not breaking his stride.

“I do.”

“Will you tell me where it is?”

“I will not.”

“Then shut up.”

In his defence, John hadn’t thought the cave was big enough to get lost in. It hadn’t looked it from the outside.

But he’d wandered, then crawled, down at least a mile of twisting, increasingly narrow tunnels before getting himself killed. He’d kept meaning to stop; said to himself five times, ‘Okay, Conjob, this is getting stupid, let’s trot our arse back to civilisation’. Then he would notice another crevice wide enough for him to squeeze into.

“Curious place for a holiday,” the First of the Fallen commented after bravely keeping his tongue still for an unprecedented five minutes.

“Curious times we’re living in, innit?”

He hummed in agreement. “Are you really not here for any particular reason? Not – I don’t know – trying to find a missing child abducted by the fae? Searching for a wicked spirit who’s been cursing the local shepherds? Treasure-hunting, perhaps?”

“No.”

“You’re just here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m on holiday. Taking a nice long break.”

“John. We’ve known one another for some time. I am familiar with the ways in which you ‘take a break’. You either go to the pub or you go to several pubs. Attempting to reconnect with nature is hardly your style.”

“Being oblivious to current events – especially shit ones – is hardly your style. Been too busy shaving your chunky arse to pick up a newspaper lately?”

“Print is dying. Besides, you try managing an entire dimension. See how much spare time it leaves you. Honestly, I’m run off my feet most days.”

“So quit.”

“Don’t be silly. What else would I do?”

“I dunno. Could be a camgirl. You’ve got the legs for it.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Why aren’t you at home?”

John stopped walking and spun to face him. “There’s a plague, you gormless, oblivious prick. I can’t go to the pub. I can’t meet up with me mates. I can’t visit people’s homes to perform exorcisms. I can’t do anything but sit indoors, on my own, for months on end, just watching everything get worse, and that… and that’s not an option. Not for me. I crack too easy. So I got out. Before I killed someone. Now, for the last time, shut up and let me concentrate.”

He bent down to tug off his shoes and socks.

Telepathic magic tended to work best when you were naked. But sod that. Not with the First of the Fuckheads watching. Waffles or no waffles, he did not deserve a treat.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing now? Marvellous! I do love watching your quaint party tricks,” he oozed with a mocking round of applause as John dropped to his knees.

Ignore him.

Taking a deep breath, John let his awareness expand.

It was hard, with the First standing right there. His presence was staggeringly heavy, weighing on the ley lines like an iron ball on a lace hammock. And so alien; elements found nowhere on Earth, bones and muscles formed before Earth had been a glint in God’s eye.

John sneered into the darkness. Piss on that. On him. This was child’s play. Buggered as his brain might be, John Constantine wasn’t going to falter at the sound, scent, or sensation of a mean-spirited old cosmic relic.

Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.

Seven years ago, three people came this way. A family. A woman; her sister; her daughter. They were having fun. The sisters had done this before; the daughter had been begging to come along for years. Afterwards, they were going for pizza. It was a good day.

Two years ago, four people came this way. All friends from work. Well – ‘friends’. One was the company CEO, the other three wanted promotions. Everyone but the boss was miserable. One was arachnophobic.

Eight months ago, a… sheep? Yeah. A sheep. Barely more than a lamb. It was lost. There was a storm and it came down here looking for shelter. Went too deep. By the time the shepherd found it, it was half-starved.

“John? What are you-…”

Ignore him.

Ten years ago, another family. Fifty years ago, a frightened child running from a monstrous father. And others – a hundred others – a thousand. The cave had a rich and storied history. Almost against his will and entirely against his better judgement, John followed its threads through the rock layers, chasing faded ghosts, brushing up against magic so ancient it had fossilised.

“John!”

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore-

His head was ringing. His blood was on fire.

Fuck, I’ve gone too far, too bloody deep, fuck, oh fuck.

“Constantine! Heed me!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Ah,” he said.

“Precisely,” said the First of the Fallen, who was holding him up by his coat collar like a jizz rag in need of a bin.

The cave had changed.

It was brighter, thanks to a small, well-constructed fire in its centre.

The walls were covered in paintings. Deer. Hogs. Great red and brown bulls.

A woman sat in the corner, wrapped in furs, adding detail to what might have been a fox. She didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“Did you mean to do that?” the First of the Fallen queried. 

0

“In thirty thousand years, a monk will come down here and find them. He’ll be horrified, believing that they’re the work of… well, me. So he’ll leave and return with water in buckets and scrubbing brushes. As he lies on his deathbed, he will be firmly under the impression that this great good deed will grant him entrance into Paradise.”

The First of the Fallen paused for effect, then added, “Alas, he will be mistaken.”

Without looking away from her work, the woman spoke several words in a language miles removed from any contemporary tongue John had ever heard.

“The young lady says she doesn’t mind spirits wandering her caves, but requests that we don’t chatter while she’s trying to concentrate.”

Crouching next to freshly-etched cow and her calf, feeling uncharacteristically dazzled, John said, “Ask her if I can take a picture. Ask her!”

“Homo neanderthalensis, John. She won’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”

Rolling his eyes, he fished his phone out of his trenchcoat pocket and waved it at her. When she deliberately ignored him, he shrugged and took the shot.

The flash won her attention. She stood – revealing a faded seashell necklace and a long, curving scar across her left thigh – and approached them, limping slightly. John held out the phone to show her the picture and, after a resoundingly unimpressed inspection, she uttered a terse sentence.

“She’s unsure why the sickly-looking spirit thinks shrinking her beasts in any way improves them,” said the First of the Fallen.

The woman raised her head (hard to tell how old she was; younger than him, definitely) and looked John in the eye, squinting. Another few sentences followed, some of which sounded like questions.

Sarcastic questions, unless he was mistaken.

“She asks if you shrink them because large beasts frighten you. She speculates that, if the only beasts you can bear to approach are scrawny ones, it’s no wonder that you yourself are such a measly creature. She says that she too was scared of bulls when she was a child, but that her mother taught her not to be. She wonders why your mother failed you in this regard. Should I tell her your mother died in childbirth, John?”

“Stick your head up your own arse and choke. But ask her name first.”

Tossing back his thick black hair, he scoffed. “Why? What does it matter? She’s a primitive, doomed creature and she’s not even really here. This is just one of the cave’s memories.”

“Christ – are you jealous I’m talking to her more than I’m talking to you? Because that’s fucking inane. This is a one-in-a-lifetime type deal. I’ve never spoken to a legit bloody Neanderthal. I speak to you all the blasted time, more’s the pity.”

Yellow eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll kill her.”

John laughed. “You said it, squire; she’s a memory. You can’t kill her. She’s long dead. Now shut up.”

He wasn’t able to learn her name. Still, via pantomime and pointing, he eventually managed to convey his desire to find a way out of the cave – or so, at least, it seemed.

She took a bundle of sticks from beside her fire, lit them, and walked towards the nearest inky-black tunnel.

“See?” he said to the First of the Fallen as they followed her. “Politeness. All it takes.”

“Don’t act like you have any real idea what’s going on. She could be leading you straight into a trap. You’re aware, I’m sure, that archaeologists generally agree Neanderthals practised cannibalism? Ten muscular relatives might be waiting right around the corner with clubs and a cooking pot.”

“For fuck’s sake – I have literally stood and watched you slouching on that colossally pathetic bone throne of yours and nibbling the edge of someone’s pelvis like it was a turkey drumstick. Loathsome bloody hypocrite.”

“That doesn’t remotely count as cannibalism, John. That was a human pelvis. I’m not a human. I’m the prototype. A species of one. Which, I suppose, means it’s technically impossible for me to commit cannibalism. Hmm. What an interesting philosophical notion.”

Walking a short way ahead, bare feet soundless against the rock, their new self-appointed guide said something.

“What was that?” John whispered.

“‘If you must burden my ears by bickering like children, you could at least do it in a language I can understand’. Then she called us a rude word.”

Then the First of the Fallen spoke several sentences in his usual bored, drawling cadence and, to John’s surprise, she laughed.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the First of the Fallen said, innocently.

“I’m serious, bastard. What’re you saying to her?”

“Nothing important, John, really.”

More than once after that, he caught her glancing back at them and snickering. 

0

The artist and the twisting stone galleries through which she led them – it couldn’t possibly have all been hers; the monk had destroyed the work of generations – were insufficient to keep John’s mind from straying back to important matters.

“Hey. Ponce. What’ve you done with my cigarettes?”

The First of the Fallen had plucked them from his trenchcoat pocket while he was unconscious. When it came to his sorcerer, he’d learned, you always wanted a bargaining chip to hand.

“We’re in the company of one whose lungs are as yet unsullied by the Industrial Revolution, Constantine. Are you really planning on exposing her to second-hand smoke?”

It was a prospect John, it seemed, hadn’t even considered. Obviously angry with himself for that (oh John), he snapped, “No! I was – it’s – look, she can’t get lung cancer, can she? She’s dead. Doesn’t matter what she breathes in now.”

Smothering a smile, the First of the Fallen said, “Oh? So the fact that she won’t actually perish upon inhaling your fumes is all that matters, is it? Never mind her comfort or dignity, I suppose; as long as you don’t have to clean up another corpse.”

Nostrils flared. Fists clenched. Blue eyes gleamed with something hotter and even more violent than divine wrath.

“Like you give a shit about her,” John growled.

So much in this miserable world reminds me of Heaven. The grass. The sky. The beauty. You alone remind me of the time before Heaven; that bizarre, unpredictable time when there were no rules, no beauty, only feelings, only sudden bursts of light, fierce and erratic, cutting through the void.

“Or anyone,” John continued, gathering steam. Nicotine withdrawal, the First of the Fallen suspected, was kicking in. “Remind me, what was that you said the day we met? ‘To be mortal is to be stupid, proud, conceited – and ultimately pathetic’. You showed your hand, idiot; you loathe us all. Ergo, any taunts that depend on you concealing that are a total bust. Forget about the ciggies. If they’ve been anywhere near you, I don’t want ‘em.”

For years, the First of the Fallen had secretly hoped John had forgotten his, in hindsight, ill-considered words.

(He’d meant every one of them, but at the time he’d been trying to come off as a Gentleman Devil, the quintessential Man of Wealth and Taste, affable and urbane, not a bitter, angry old monster.)

Should have known better. John was so foolishly protective when it came to humanity as an abstract concept, even while his attitude towards actual humans tended to be far more variable. He’d probably been furiously gnawing on that phrase – ‘ultimately pathetic’ – like a dog with a bone for thirty years.

Thirty years.

Was that really all the time they’d known one another? John Constantine, his Constantine, He Who Was Most Hated… a mere thirty year acquaintance?

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Heh. Nothing, John. Reminiscing, that’s all.”

“About what? Poor old Brendan?”

Brendan, Brendan. Who -? Oh yes. John’s friend. The one who’d sold his soul. The catalyst, in fact, for their meeting. Pity the bastard was in Heaven; he’d have liked to thank him.

“You see these?” said the artist, holding up her torch to illuminate a painted wolf pack. “My grandfather did these.”

“What’s she saying?” John demanded.

As the First of the Fallen translated, he gazed dispassionately at her.

The first time he’d encountered a human, they’d looked much the same. Small. Unremarkable. Clad in skins and hardened from a life exposed to this planet’s weather (he personally hated weather and had made sure there was no such thing in Hell).

Mind you, the ones he’d run into while naked and terrified and still injured from being swatted down to Earth like some insect had been much less hospitable. They hadn’t known what he was; only that he was wrong. When he’d tried to approach their campfire, they’d thrown stones at him. Slaying them all hadn’t even occurred to him. Father had said that they were precious and at that stage, he’d still given a toss about His rules. Instead, he’d slunk away.

Catching food wasn’t a problem. He was faster than any buck or bird. It was loneliness, not hunger, that drove him to try again, and again, and again. In time, they grew used to him. Even showed him kindness. They had an extraordinary capacity for that. (For all that it was so often conditional and withdrawn the moment one became too strange or too frightening.)

But he’d never grown used to them. They were, at heart, creatures of community. And he simply wasn’t. He was a species of one. The prototype. He’d always been alone but for God’s company, and adjusting to life as a member of a tribe had proved impossible. Their norms, their traditions, their complicated etiquette – it had all bewildered him, then intimidated him, then irritated him. That, combined with his ageless body and supernatural strength, had driven an inevitable wedge between them, and he’d returned to the wilderness to wander alone.

He considered telling John that story.

(Why not? He’d told him everything else and the idea that his nemesis might have an incomplete view of him was, for some reason, concerning.)

Then he considered John’s likely reaction. The curled lip. The scornful snort. “What, you looking for pity? ‘Boo-hoo, my rotten childhood turned me into a git’? Hah! Jog on, squire.”

No. John’s hatred was a hard-won prize. John’s contempt was to be avoided at all costs.

“You realise most people aren’t allowed down here,” the artist said, glancing his way. She was shorter than John, who himself was slightly shorter than the average man; her eyes were level with the First’s navel. “Only elders and those who’ve earned the right. There are grave penalties awaiting any who sneak in.”

“Really?” he replied, interested only in John’s furrowed brow and silent, aggravated attempts to work out what they were saying.

“Yes. Because this place is important. Sacred. When I was young, I spent years dreaming of being allowed to venture this deep. I don’t know the ways of spirits – but I’ll not pretend it doesn’t rankle that you spend more time studying your sickly friend than your surroundings.”

“You’re still young. Compared to me, everyone is.”

“He doesn’t even seem to like you very much. Why are you travelling with him?”

“I don’t know. Why do urine and semen come out the same hole?”

“‘It’s none of your business’ would have sufficed. Are you always this rude? Is that why the sickly one doesn’t like you?”  

“No. No, he dislikes me for other reasons.”

“Well, well, well. Hullo,” came John’s voice, and they both realised that he’d stopped walking.

Turning, the First of the Fallen spied his nemesis standing with his hands in his pockets, studying a man dressed like a thirteenth-century peasant.

“Eh? Where did he come from?” the woman asked.

In quavering tones, the peasant said, “Are you angels?”

The First of the Fallen laughed. “John! He’s asking if-…”

“Just because I can’t speak Neanderthal doesn’t mean I don’t know sodding Middle English. Give me an ounce of credit. I’m only a cocking wizard, after all,” John snapped, before addressing the new arrival: “No. Just travellers.”

The peasant’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe God had sent me angels. I’ve been requesting them for several days.”

John shuddered. “Bad idea. Trust me. You don’t want to mess around with that lot.”

“But I need guidance. Protection.”

“From what?”

Eyes wide, the peasant took his hand and clutched it. “My friend, can’t you see? I am being pursued.”

“By who?”

“By demons.”

(to be continued) 

[marshmallowprotection]

Kait Reacts To The AE 8/?

Hi! These reactions are written out every time a Chatroom opens and it’s done over the course of the day. So, you’re watching me react in real time as it is for me. So, Spoilers AHOY. Expect Another post like this later today, there is just too many chats to put it all in one post. So, hey, if you click this, you’re opening yourself to spoilers, you make the choice.

[11:11]

Well, I knew it was coming but I didn’t want it to be coming. Rika comes into the chatroom and lets us know very clearly once more that nothing can change and that we need to accept that. She said that Prime Minister is coming tomorrow in preparation for... he expects to make sure the boys don’t fight him. I’m not really sure what he wants apart from that and I don’t want to. My worst fear is murder but clearly, he is going to use them as puppets and keep them holed away like Rika’s toys. It’s like we’re living in her godforsaken dollhouse. 

She notes that Saeyoung isn’t trouble. He’s drugged. Saeran... she points out that he ran once, he may run again. She and V are clearly suspicious of what he is doing since he came with nothing, and both note to me that maybe it’s just their nerves and he’s really given up because he knows “there’s no other way to get through this.” 

It’s not much to note. I’m just annoyed. I don’t want to even expend the energy on her or V anymore. I’m checked out with them and I’m not even bothering. It just isn’t worth my energy. I’m never forgiving them. I’ve already made my mind pretty clear on that subject. I just cannot. And, trust me, it’s about to get a whole lot worse. She and Saeran are back from the Agents and the Visual Novel is about to start. 

And let me tell you that  I nearly dropped my phone when this happened. I could feel myself already suffocated to see this. If I thought that I was hurting when we saw what happened to Saeyoung, I don’t know, this is a million times worse or at the very least, on the same fucking level of unsettling me to my very core. Well, it’s this moment that I know that I’m clenching my fists at my sides and using all my strength not to lash out at Rika. I don’t know how I would handle this. I don’t know. I don’t know how I would keep my level head that I normally have when I have to confront these traumatizing things. 

I think in the end, I’d just cry because I can’t do anything.

Yes, Rika straight-up tied him up by the ankles. Yes, he is lost is a in triggered daze. Yes, I’m fucking upset. She tells him that he should get used to this for the time being but she’ll let him go when things are “perfect and she’s sure that he will behave.” She leaves. 

I can gently nudge him and he snaps from his stupor as quickly as I can and he snaps out of it only to breathe a sigh of relief because we’re there with him and he can find solace in that fact. I know that we’re about to have a really serious talk but I’m trying not to fixate on the abuse of him at Rika’s hands.

He’s relieved. I’m momentarily relieved. He says that he’s able to feel calm in spite of this storm because of this. He’s just so happy to see us again. He’s still bothered by what he has gone through, but he does look a lot more at ease with the unease in his heart. At least, I know that he’s okay. He’s not suffocating by what I feared that he was, but I think I’m more upset about it than he is. He admits that his mother used to do this to you, and I know he’s mentioned it before during his route but... seeing it is....

A lot different than hearing about it. And that’s when he drops the biggest fucking fear I’ve had into my lap.

He hates this. But, he feels like he has to do this. He is going to... sorry, I’m still. I’m still crying right now it’s really hard to type. He said that he can’t get out of this, and that he wants to get Saeyoung out of here so at least he can be free and that we can continue living on. I don’t want that, but you can’t reason with him, we’re both crying. He wants us to hear out the plan because... this is what he wants to happen because he doesn’t see another option. 

These brothers are going to be the death of because with how selfless they are. I can’t even really call them out about it. I would sacrifice myself just as quickly. I guess we’re all stubborn and have that in common. Saeran explains that Vanderwood helped him escape, and that they went back to Jumin. Jumin took members of the former intelligence team and formed his own group in a single fucking day with Jaehee at his side. Jumin is the one that told Zen to lie and make sure that nobody would know about this. Vanderwood and Saeran got into the agency but—

Saeran only had time to hack half of it. 

His plan is that Saeyoung, once freed, should be able to finish it and be free from his chains. I... sorry. Everyone is awake with the RFA now. Jumin is still risking it all for us. Everyone is risking so much for Saeran, Saeyoung, and me, and I just... I’m sorry. 

I don’t want to leave him. I tell him but... he’s resolute. He say that once Saeyoung is able to take down the agency, Saejoong will lose his power and they will be able to do whatever they can to right the wrongs committed against the RFA. I’m literally bawling at this point, and I’m asking him what is going to happen to him when we leave him behind because—

Rika, V, and everyone else that is against us are going to destroy him once we get out of here. They’re going to hurt him. They’re going to—

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t I can’t do this. 

Saeran, please. 

Who had “Send Kaitlyn in a fucking bawling mess because he said what he said during V Route when Ray blew up the fucking building because he felt like his life was worth nothing anymore but he couldn’t fucking leave without telling us that his love for us would never die,” on their fucking bingo card because you jus won the game. 

I cannot express into words upset I am. This was beautifully written but I don’t want to leave him. I had to stifle my own sobs because it’s so early in the day and I didn’t want to wake up anyone and say that my fictional boyfriend just did this to me. There’s so much that I want to say about this but... I can’t. I’m just so in a state of being overwhelmed. I wasn’t okay after V Route. I sat there for a long time after that happened. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I can’t right now either. I love this man so much, I hope he knows that. 

Please, this isn’t the end of you. 

Please. 

There’s a call with Zen after this. They knew. They fucking knew what he was going to do but they didn’t tell me. They’re expecting me. Zen tried to cheer me up and say that we’re going to save him, he knows that Saeran means everything to us but he wants us to stay positive because fear only festers and gets worse as it grows. I called V after because I needed to hear what he had to say. Once again, he threatened me being “polite” about it. He said that he does not want me to get hurt but... It’s implied every fucking time. 

I’m done with you, Jihyun. 

He tries to force me to talk about everything but I bite my tongue and basically tell him to fuck off. I’m done. I’m so fucking done. I’m checked out and I cannot stand you. Burn if you want to burn, Jihyun, but I’m not going to let you burn Saeran and Saeyoung because you’ve given up on everything and turned your fucking back on everything. 

[12:48]

So. Hey. This was a short one. Rika pointedly is back to her bullshit. She's just... trying to make him.think and agree with her that the past is in the past but it isn't. Just because Saeran was willing to say he doesn't hate someone doesn't mean that he is willing to forgive someone who has continued to hurt him time and time again in his life.

She's fully denying things and telling him to act like a child. She wants to live in willful ignorance of her own misdeeds and pretend her dollhouse life she's planning is going to be perfect for him... for Saeyoung. It's not. Saeran is actually doing this with a lot of grace and care. I know he's sad and resolute. I know. But, he's not going to crack here. He has resigned himself but he wants to enjoy the time that we do have together for as long as we can do so.

Saeran points out that she must feel lonely and hurt herself after what she's gone through and how things went at Mint Eye since it was taken down the minute she left with V. He's offering a small shred of sympathy but it ain't much, trust me. He's trying to distract Rika and V so a lot of this is him playing a part. He calls right after this one and we talk a little. We talk about how strong he has become and he thanks me for being there for him even though I remind him that he saved himself from hell. He notes I'm too humble, that we make each other strong.

He says that I'm an angel for being kind to him and sharing my love. He days our love is like a soft white light, pure, and easy to see. We talk about what Saeyoung may do when he leaves, but I end by saying that he'll be sad without him there. Saeran says sadness will pass. That it will be okay. He will send his love to me in my dreams time and time again. I'm having an aura migraine right now and I think I sparked it by getting so upset. Haha. I offer to check on Saeyoung, he heard something?

Rika and V are out shopping. Rika notes that she cannot stand how Saeran is acting. She doesn't at all want to deal with this... kindness? She wants him to be silent and do as he did when he was a child and nothing more. She literally wants to pretend that it's ten years ago. She is that deep into her selfish desires and she refuses to see anything but this. She darts off to grab fruits and we pause on V. I don't know what the hell is going on in this thick skull of his and at this point I am not even trying to gauge.

He knows he's wrong. I don't care what he thinks he's playing at anymore. He knows that he is a lot of ways in the wrong and buried his head into the sand again. At least you note that she will never change because she refuses to admit that she hurt other people. She would rather play house and pretend.

I hope you're happy with the outcome, V. No matter what you think you're doing, you're wrong here.

[14:07]

A lot happens here, honestly. This chatroom is spent with Saeran. It's a private log where he is repeating what he just said to us. That we will need to leave him and leave with Vanderwood and Saeyoung as soon as possible while he is distracting Rika and V. He doesn't know how he will do it but he's going to do it for as long as he can because he wants us to get far away before anyone can stop us. I point out that I don't want to leave and that Saeyoung, if awoken with the antidote, will not leave him behind. He says that we need to lie if we have to do it. He just needs us safe. He thinks this is the only way. I can't really argue with him, but. I'm clearly distraught and he knows it. He wants us to stay as close as we can to each other until the last moment we have.

He says that even if he suffers, he will feel okay when he thinks of me. He repeats what he said earlier and now I'm still upset. In this context, he says first and past love for himself. He isn't at all talking about us. I'll get to this, there's a call with Yoosung after this and he's having a crisis. He is shocked and upset. He says that the entire time he caught up to speed on the recorded work that they did, he saw Saeran so passionate and in love that he is envious. He wishes he could be loved like that because he isn't sure he's ready for love of that caliber yet. He says that it's so strong that it transcends anything and everything that he has. He is not selfish. He is selfless in the way that he loves.

And he's crying, I'm crying, we're both crying about this. He says to enjoy what time I have with him. Then, he asks if I know what is fueling him. I answer, the freedom of his brother. And, Yoosung sighs, "Your happiness is what he is putting first." Everything, all of this, Yoosung says that he is willing to die if it means I can live on happily.

But, I know I'll never truly be happy without him and we both just. Crack.

As far as the Visual novel goes, Rika leaves and then V gives us another kind gesture laden with threats. It's all about Rika. It's always about Rika. He warns Saeran that he better fake a mask for Rika because she could lash out. He wants this to be peaceful times ahead for Rika. He doesn't want more conflict but I say that he cannot bend Saeran to his will. Saeran agrees. He says that no one will bind him and he will not lose himself no matter what they do or say to him. His freedom was earned by his hands and nobody will rob him of that.

V says that he's decided to be trouble now, and Saeran says that V is clouded by an obsession to be an adult. I add that Rika is playing Peter Pan because she wants to live in a world of terrible falsehoods. V paused, "Do you think I can become an adult once things settle down, even though Rika cannot?"

No answer.

He realizes Saeran isn't budging. And he says he'll have to try another way.

Yoosung and Zen are together, and this is right before he called me crying. He's just so broken up about how unfair all of this. How they should be doing something and Zen agrees. Yoosung says that Saeran is going to die tonight if they can't do something and I know that he isn't wrong and it's my biggest fear. If they don't have the two of them and if they cannot control either of the twins, they'll just kill the two of them the second they get the chance. Zen isn't wrong to say that we shouldn't think about that but Yoosung is always right when it comes to this regard.

Zen sighs, noting that he's gotta watch himself because he's starting to sound like Jumin. He is the one that wanted to run to us the minute he woke up. I trust that. He's broken up too, and I just don't know what I'm going to do next. They say they need to think.

They need to figure something out before... his love for me will be gone and he'll never get to be truly free with Saeyoung because he'll be dead. I really hope not, Yoosung. This is my worst case scenario too.

You get a text message from V as well, after. He says you know, Caterpillars build a home with a hard wall. I say, they make it so they can spread their wings and be free. He responds, I wonder if Rika and I just made our shells harder. I don't know if he's having second thoughts but no matter what he does at this point I'm not going to forgive him. He committed to this and he did this. There's no denying it. Even if you try to make things right at this point I'm still never going to give you a chance. You just don't deserve it in my eyes. The Others May think differently but I really doubt it.

There's no mending your melted wings.

[mommymooze]

During Timeskip Hugs from the Resident Hugmeister: Black Eagles Baby!

These are your friends, cohorts, partners in crime, besties, comrades in arms. It has been rough the last few months. With losing Byleth at the battle at Garreg Mach they seem to be lost, doubtful of their skills, angry or just plain sad.

You have your sad days, but they do not rule over you. You learn from mistakes, pick yourself up by the bootstraps and keep moving. How easy it would be to settle into the melancholy and sadness of it all. But that is not you. Polly Positive. Sally Smiley. Penelope Positivity. After the storm, the clouds part and the sunshine comes back, and that is you. If anyone can get these Cranky Crabbyfaces back to smiling again, it must be you.

After a nutritious breakfast of two eggs and bacon, placed specifically as a smiley face on your plate for encouragement, you head out on your mission.

Leaving the cool darkness of the palace corridor you spy Caspar heading to the training grounds. “Caspar!” you scream happily at the brawler who looks up from the pavement towards you. Throwing your arms high in the air, your hands waving like the branches of the trees in the delightful spring breeze, you continue to call his name and laugh as you run straight for him.

Caspar notices you are not slowing down. He bends his knees slightly and holds his hands out, still unsure as to what is happening.

You crash into him, throwing your arms around him and laughing all the while. The impact causes you both to spin around in a full circle.

“What the…OOoof!” Caspar gasps as he is crashed into. “Hey, if you’re going to attack me, let’s go into the training grounds!”

“Hug attacks can happen anywhere, you know that!” You smile seeing his eyes brighten a bit.

“If I’m gonna get attacked, a hug attack is the best kind.” Caspar smiles back at you.

“I wonder what would happen if I did that to Hubert?” You think out loud.

“He would let you get really close then warp away.” Caspar snickers

You laugh back, “Yeah, then I’d crash face first into a bush.”

Waving goodbye to Caspar, you head back inside through a different door. Turning down a hallway you arrive at the recluse of the group. Gently knocking at the door you wait for acknowledgement.

“Bernie’s not here.” Says a voice from inside the room.

“Aww. I have something I want to talk about with her and I have something to give her.” You speak softly so she has to come closer to the door to hear you.

“Um…you can just leave it at the door and a note.” The timid voice calls back.

“I can’t do that. What if someone takes it? It is best if I deliver it personally.”

“Well, if it is just you, I guess it is okay.” You hear the door unlock and a scrambling on the other side.

Waiting a few seconds, you slowly open the door, peeking your face in. “Hi.” You call as you meet her glance. Bernie is curled up on her bed in her blanket on the far side of the room.

You walk into the room and sit cross legged on the floor, hands on your knees. “So I’ve noticed you have the most beautiful handkerchiefs. Do you embroider them yourself?”

“They’re nothing special.” Bernie frowns.

You reach into your pocket, slowly pulling out your handkerchief. “This is nothing special. Very plain, no embellishment, no pizzazz. I have seen yours. They are beautiful and I really like them.

“Y-you do?” Bernie pulls out one of her creations. It has purple thread around the outside making a scalloped pattern, green vines weaving back and forth, with delicate purple hyacinths gathered in a yellow bow at each corner.

“Look at that! So much intricate artwork. I’ve seen your dresses, your socks, gloves. You put your special touch and love into everything. I have a request, I’d like to learn from you. Would you teach me to do some needlework?”

“Bernie doesn’t do anything special.” She looks down, hiding her face.

“Bernie does awesome, amazing, beautiful things. Definitely special.” You nod.

She plays with her fingers. “Do you really think so?”

“I really know so!” You happily reply.

“MMmmm. Okay. I will show you some embroidery techniques.” Bernie even gives a half smile.

“I think it’s time for part two of what I came here for. Can I give you a hug?” You smile.

“You don’t have to.” She looks a bit undecided.

You smile wider, “Would you like me to?”

Bernadetta thinks out loud. “Your hugs are nice.”

You slowly get up and sit on the bed next to her and hold your arms open. You slowly put your arms around her, sitting there cheek to cheek as you slowly rub up and down the center of her back. After a few minutes she gives a heavy relaxed sigh. You hug her for a few more minutes until she finally sits back.

“Thank you Bernie.” You say your goodbyes as you are ready for your next conquest.

Linhardt is next on your list. You head to the infirmary to find him writing some notes at a desk to the side of the room. He looks up just as you enter.

“Ah. I have been expecting you.” The tall healer stands, stretching his arms above his head.

You have a puzzled look on your face.

“Caspar told me you hugged him earlier. I believe I would be entitled to one as well.” He says, you’re not sure if that was a question or statement of fact. It is hart to tell with Linhardt.

“If it would please you and provide a bit of comfort, then yes, you are absolutely entitled.”

“Excellent. I have determined the absolute perfect position and posture for my hug.” Linhardt says, taking your hand. He walks you to the closest patient bed, telling you to sit down. He then proceeds to the opposite side of the bed, sits and turns to face you, requesting you face him. You then hug each other, your nose buried in his collar. His robes are so soft against your cheek. Slowly he leans back, pulling you down with him. You have fallen into the Lin nap trap while hugging him. It takes you several minutes moving slowly so you don’t wake him, yet getting him to disengage from continuing to hug you closer to him.

Shaking your head to wake yourself up, honestly Lin’s sleepiness is contagious, it is so hard to not take a nap, but you are a hugger on a mission! You head out to the gardens for fresh invigorating air. You spy two beautiful flowers amongst the roses, Petra and Dorothea.

“Are you two out here making the flowers jealous?” You laugh.

Petra greets you with a hug. The princess is such an amazing and strong woman you think as you happily sigh while wrapping your arms around her for a firm and warm hug.

Dorothea explains that it is simply too nice of a day to be cooped up inside. You certainly agree with her as you hug her warmly as well.

You wander the gardens for a few minutes until you reach the exterior of the palace’s atrium. Entering in the side door you spy Emperor Edelgard sitting at a table enjoying her afternoon tea.

“Beautiful afternoon, El. You should have your tea outside.” You encourage her.

She shakes her head with a soft smile. “No, if I go outside I will be too tempted to not come back in. Please, join me for tea.” She waves a hand at the empty seat next to her.

You approach, bow, then take a seat. She pours you some of her heavenly smelling Bergamot tea. The two of you sit and chat. Not about work or war, but about normal and mundane things. It gives you both a chance to pretend that things are normal, that for a few moments there is no war, no battle in a few days. It is a lovely break from reality. Finally, she stands, apologizing, however work waits for no one, not even the Emperor.

You stand as well, giving her a warm hug, thanking her for a few moments of respite.

The door to the Prime Minister’s office is almost always open. Ferdinand von Aegir would not want anyone to feel as if they could not approach him. You stand in the door way, watching him for a moment. His brow furrowed in concentration as he writes some important document that he intends to improve the world with.

You knock on his already open door to alert him to your presence.

“Come in, come in! Just let me finish this, take a seat!” He offers a hand to a chair across from his desk that is covered with papers in different stacks and arrangements. Finally, he replaces his quill in its holder and closes the top to his ink pot.

“Splendid to see you today. You are looking very well. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He smiles widely as he places a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

“Actually, I do require your assistance, as I have a task that cannot be completed all by myself.” You begin.

Ferdinand immediately stands and begins checking the stacks on his desk. “Anything you need, I’m certain we can provide. Troops, materials, horses…”

“Oh, no, you do not have to go to such trouble. This is a simple request.” You smile.

Ferdie looks a bit puzzled. It seems that everyone is asking for more soldiers or food or something to be distributed. “A simple request?” he repeats.

“Yes, if you would come to this side of the desk please.” You nod.

Confusion is written across his face as he carefully steps around the furniture, watching you stand as he comes closer.

Holding your arms open you grin. “Ferdie, I can’t hug you without you being here. C’mere!” you laugh as you throw your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest as he hugs you back. You feel the vibrations of his chest as he heartily laughs.

“This is an amazing request! No requisition forms, or begging Hubert to reassign troops to a different area.” He grins, hugging you a bit closer.

“Thank you. Is there anything I can help you with? You haven’t been to dinner with all of us in quite some time.”

“I believe that is an excellent idea. I am at an acceptable place to pause, so let us enjoy everyone’s company over a fine dinner.” He smiles as he offers his arm to lead you to the dining hall.

Dinner is delightful, a few more smiles are at the table than there were yesterday. A certain dark mage is not present, again.

“El, is Hubert here today or out on business?” You ask.

She frowns as she thinks. “He is here, probably in some dark corner working himself to death instead of eating like he should.”

“I think I will look for him and try to get him to eat a bit.” You reply.

Edelgard smiles at that and nods in agreement. Excusing yourself from the table you begin the hunt. Finding a needle in a haystack is much easier than finding the Imperial Spy Master in the Imperial palace. You have been to every place you can imagine him to be, twice! During your fourteenth or was it sixteenth trip between his quarters and his office, you hear a noise making you suddenly spin around. He had been hiding from you, of course.w

“Hubert! Hold still this instant!” You furiously frown, stamp your foot, and ball your hands into fists as you order him to cease.

“Normally I’m the one with the unsettling glare.” He chuckles.

“I have been on a mission all day and you have been quite elusive. Now, hold still.” You march straight up to the Dark Mage, threading your arms between his and his torso, reaching into the center of his back and pulling him close to you. He tries to step back to assess what is going on, however you hold him closer with your cheek held firmly against the lower portion of his chest (he is really that tall, wow).

“You are hugging me.” Hubert states.

“Oooh, king of observation. Yeah, hugging you. Last one to mark on my list. Everyone had to have a hug today, you included. Since you evaded me for quite some time, you will be charged with enduring a longer and warmer hug than the others since apparently you need it more than them.”

“First you chastise me, then you punish me with additional hugging? For anyone else I would consider it unusual behavior, however you are rather clingy and unusual.“ Hubert says as he pulls his arms around to lightly return the hug.

You continue to hug him, rubbing your cheek into his chest and sigh happily.

“I have matters to attend to, are we finished?” Hubert asks.

“No.” You squeeze him tighter. “Promise me you will eat something before bed tonight. The Emperor supports this request.”

Hubert looks flustered, not sure what to do with this person latched onto his chest. He pats your head as he looks around, hoping nobody is coming down the hall. “

Finally you release him. Hubert is nearly to the end of the hall before you can yell, ”Thank you!” to him.

[cynicalclassicist]

Education, Education, Education

Set between The Sound of Drums and Last of the Time Lords

Written by FELIX O’KELLY

The Year that Never Was

The Valiant

The Master sat in the Valiant, looking out across the world he ruled supreme. He smiled. Construction on the ships were on schedule. His remodelling of the Lincoln Memorial had gone well, despite some resistance his forces had entered the Capitol and established his rule. Construction at Rushmore was going perfectly, after he’d had a few public executions. There had been a few rebellions in Scotland, helped by friends of the previous Prime Minister, but a short sharp shock had put those down. Despite that trouble with the Loch Ness Monster. The Norwegian resistance was giving him some trouble, spray-painting Quislings onto the local security offices and disappearing into the woods. But the woods were being chopped down to fuel his industry and soon there would be nowhere left to hide.

And meanwhile, as Earth groaned under his rule, he ripped it up, its plains, its valleys, opening its hills with spacious wounds, digging out masses of minerals to fuel his fleet. The Earth Reptile bases occasionally found as the Earth was torn apart were an utter joy. The Master could sometimes get so tired of only oppressing humans, killing a few Earth Reptiles could add real spice to otherwise dull weeks. Sometimes they even made good slaves! And some new weapons for his fleet as well…

The Master glanced at a map of his world. The Doctor did like those lovely crinkly edges of Norway. Maybe it was time for a bit of remodelling.

There was a cough behind him, and he turned. “And what can I do for you!”

Captain Ironside, who the Master had given the role to partially because he liked the name, saluted. “Master. We’ve brought him.”

“Splendid!” smiled the Master. He glided gleefully down the rail as a figure was dragged in, beaten and bloody.

“Nicholas Clough, I presume!” said the Master.

He recognised the man of course. Nicholas Clough had been one of the rising stars of politics only recently, being promoted to Education Secretary by Harriet Jones. Yet when the fall of Harriet Jones happened, he had left the Cabinet with her. In the election in which Harold Saxon had finally risen to Prime Minister, Clough had announced he was stepping down as MP for Hazelhurst East, a position he had held since the 9th of April 1992. It was the first time Saxon had seen him since then.

The man looked up, through a black eye. “Saxon.”

“Oh, that was the name I used, but you know I am the Master!” sneered the Time Lord. He whipped out his laser screwdriver at which the guards stepped back. But the Master laughed. “Not yet! Haven’t had a good chin-wag since I had that Shaw brought here. Though she was a tad disappointing… not even killing her was exciting.” He turned and grinned horribly at the Doctor, who sat there in his wheelchair. “But the look on your face made it all worthwhile! Just like when I told you about Miss Grant and the grandchildren she… had.”

The Doctor’s face burned with hatred at this.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” asked Nicholas.

The man he had known as Harold Saxon pirouetted round like a ballerina. “Well, you have been spreading some very hurtful things about me” he replied. “And I heard that you met a certain… Martha.” He savoured the word a moment, then spat it out, trying to stay composed.

Nicholas smiled. “Yes. We talked a bit about the Doctor. I’d been wondering who that fellow was ever since Harriet Jones made that broadcast on Christmas.”

“Well, here he is!” The Master pulled the Doctor out of the wheelchair. “Here you are, Mr Clough! Here is the wonderful Doctor!” He flung him back in, the Doctor remaining silent, with the aura of one used to this humiliation.

Nicholas looked worried but composed himself. “Well, there are plenty who resist you still.”

“Yes… Harriet is proving a bit elusive herself” said the Master, his face turning ugly again. “But of course, you were close to her!”

“I left when she did,” replied Nicholas.

“Loyalty… an unusual trait in a politician” replied Saxon. “I should know! Plenty were happy to flock to my banner!” He laughed. “Remember that loathsome Oscar Sudders? Harriet’s Health Secretary? Jumped at the chance to become my Defence Secretary! And that idiot from Richfield South. And of course, the old fool Dumfries! The look on their faces when I made the reshuffle…”

“I’m certainly glad I didn’t take the chance to be your Education Secretary!” said Nicholas.

“So much for wanting to educate!” laughed the Master. “I know how much you politicians talk about education, education, education!”

“Well, I was leaving politics anyway,” said Nicholas. “And I am happy to keep educating people.”

“Oh, what would you need to educate them about!” asked the Master. He pointed upwards. “I have my network, broadcasting the right ideas into their minds! I even have a few loudspeakers set up if I want to give a message!”

He pushed some buttons as if playing a piano, pulled a lever and yelled down the receiver. “PEOPLES OF EARTH! THIS IS YOUR MASTER! JUST TESTING!” He smiled at Nicholas. “It’s 1:15 in that part of the world, it should make the people jump!” He gave a laugh. “Not that it’s too dissimilar to many politicians in the days before my rule, this sort of propaganda! The sheer amount of awful Parties I had to go to to get Ru…” He paused and looked sullen at this memory, then brightened.

“But enough of that! I recall a piece you wrote about me, just before the election! It was called Why I will not be voting Saxon!”

“I think there are a lot of people who regret voting for you now” replied Nicholas.

“Well they should have thought of that beforehand. Not that they ever read your magnum opus. It got pulled due to a word from his Lordship the Paper’s owner, but he was kind enough to send me a copy!”

Like a conjurer the Master produced a paper. He smirked at the Doctor. “I’ve been teaching myself magic! I recall you liked those when you were that little man with the umbrella! Travelling with that… what was it… Dorothy?”

“Ace” said the Doctor. “Her name was Ace.”

“Oh yes! Ace! I remember telling you about her last stand with the Nitro-9… excellent chemical, I’m bottling a bit of it myself for a rainy day! Where was I… ah, the article!”

The Master began reading.

“Let’s see… Clough calls me the most dangerous man in Britain.”

“I was too kind, you’re the most dangerous man in the world” replied Nicholas.

“Oh, still too kind, the Universe!” The Master continued. “Brings up… oh yes, that little car accident which meant I just happened to be elected an MP! Poor old Charles Lichen!” He chuckled horribly. “Talks about dubious businessmen… Well, Salamander is doing some good work for me. And Van Statten’s collection has all sorts of lovely weapons for mass-production!” He commenced skimming the article. “Badmouths me, surprisingly nice about the Shadow Attorney General, badmouths Brian Green… Brings up Lazarus…” The Master was practically blushing as he read of his sinister deeds and scheming. “You’re too kind! I almost wish I could give you a job!”

“Well there will always be people like me, ready to educate against people like you!” said Nicholas. “And that’s what Martha is doing! Giving people hope!”

“Your pathetic people haven’t got a hope!” spat the Master.

“Doesn’t matter how many times you say that, it doesn’t make it true!” replied Nicholas, standing defiantly. “I kept telling people what Martha told me and I’m happy to have done so!”

A smile formed on the Doctor’s face, the first proper one in weeks. The Master glanced around, and his eyes narrowed. He turned back to Nicholas.

“Perhaps.” He took out his laser screwdriver and fired it, blasting Clough to the ground.

“Leave it wherever you found it,” he laughed to Ironside. “I’ll tell the people it’s an education!”

“You didn’t need to do that” said the Doctor angrily.

“No. But it’s fun!”

The Master turned to his transmitters. “Peoples of the Earth, please attend carefully.” He winked at the Doctor. “I always love saying that.” He continued. “I had a meeting with Nicholas Clough. A most educating experience. Just thought I’d let Miss Jones know that! And that I look forward to meeting her!”

But far away Martha continued telling her stories, telling the people of someone who fought against evil. Of giant crabs, of Daleks, of atmosphere-cleaning whales intended to destroy humanity, time-travelling assassins and more. And eventually the stories she told grew in the minds of the people and ended the tyranny of the Master.

And on that day, time snapped back a year. The Toclafane decimation vanished and few remembered the rule of the Master. Instead they watched as the Prime Minister was shot and died.

But they moved on and life went on. The papers about Saxon were covered up by the Lord High Chancellor Brian Green, including Clough’s Why I will not be Voting Saxon, citing security concerns.

Though with plenty more troubles and tricksters like the Master the world was not yet safe…

28th February 2021

England

Nicholas Clough glanced at his article, Why I will not be voting Saxon, written all those years ago. After some lobbying, he had finally been able to get it released for the memoirs he was writing, probably helped by the fact Brian Green was no longer in Parliament. Not many people seemed interested now in history. He sometimes wondered if the country would ever learn, especially as they kept making the same mistakes, falling for the same tricks. Not just in this country even!

But he had to keep trying. And maybe, one day, people would learn. Maybe they would see through the lies that the powerful told. Where there was life, there was hope. Even in the darkest of times.

[r6s-imagines]

Hi💕 How members of rainbow would react to a new hot as hell operator. This woman scare the shit out of everyone. And she have a secret. She was professional assassin and very influential criminal figure. But now she's on a "good" side. So, how would react Jäger(who have a big crush on her) when her secret is revealed? Headcanon?

absolutely, anon! i wasn’t sure if you asked for every operator in a preference or just jäger in an imagine, so i created this with a heavier lean towards a particular german engineer. if this doesn’t satisfy you, please let me know and i’ll create another version to your liking!

i rewrote this about six times oh boy

•••

jäger x reader >> that’s kinda hot

•••

MASTERLIST

warnings: cursing, a really thirsty german man

•••

summary: jäger discovers your secret, and he doesn’t know if he’s afraid or turned on.

•••

“i’d let her step on my throat.”

ask marius about you, the orion, and that’s what flashes through his mind. what does he actually say, though?

“she’s fucking terrifying.”

he wasn’t wrong. you were less sociable than mute, stealthier than caveira, and more mysterious than nøkk. you were a jack of all trades if it came to keeping to yourself, and more often than not it saved your ass in your old jobs. these particular fields of work were only known between you and six, saving you from hours of uncomfortable confrontations from your coworkers.

most of your time went into the lab for independent studies, much to the disliking of the r&d director. if mira truly hated your presence, then you’d camp out in the firing range, testing new guns and perfecting the ones you’d learned previously. these exact locations caused many silent encounters, leading to wide eyes and uncomfortable excuses to departure. the isolation never bothered you, though, you’d rather have people know you for your looks instead of your past.

jäger was a perfect example of someone who only knew you at a base level. he tried to hard to put his foot in the door, but you always slammed it on him before he could get through. it was a game, a challenge to see who’d give in. it was the most competition you’ve had in years, and this little game you two have set up was something for the books, according to the gsg9. according to talk, marius doesn’t put this much effort into his cars or ads as much as he’s tried to get to know you.

one of your eyes was closed, the other was staring down an iron-sighted pistol. the target was long demolished; holes scattered throughout the board should have told you to stop, but you hadn’t found anywhere else to be where you could be productive. every echoing shot flashed a memory before your face.

BANG!

you shot a man to death who thought he’d bought you for sex.

BANG!

footage of a back alley bar shooting as the prime minister announced your ten million bounty on television.

BANG!

your parents watching you in fear as you raised the gun–

“y/n!”

you jumped, misfiring. you rolled your tongue across your teeth and lowered your weapon, balancing your weight on one leg.

“yes?” you asked, rolling your eyes. sure enough, marius was in front of you, wide-eyed. “something you need, streicher?”

he bounced on his heels, exhaling nervously through his teeth.

“i was looking for you, actually,” he said, red. “are you, erm, doing anything?”

“yes,” you replied immediately. “i was.”

“well, i can see that,” you watched his eyes dart around, avoiding your eyes. “are you doing anything later…?” you raised your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh and opting for a smirking reply instead.

“i suppose not.”

“fantastic! tell you what, your room tonight?”

“for?”

“i don’t know, maybe we could… get to know each other?” he looked ready to cry, or back out, or both. you must admit, though, marius was the only person you’ve known that was genuinely interesting to you. he had guts inviting you anywhere, let alone approaching you. eye contact was never broken as you stood in thought, watching him nervously scratch his scruffy chin. finally, you reacted to his advances, sticking out a hand. he reached forward and took it, shaking it once.

“deal.”

for the first time in years, you counted down to a somewhat desirable moment. you were admittedly dressed down with shorts and a graphic pullover. you whittled away at a block of wood, just barely being able to call it a dog when someone knocked on your doorframe. you looked up, meeting your gaze with a familiar blonde man. he waved a hand, chuckling airily.

“jäger.”

“orion.”

almost immediately, his eyes met the bookshelf, pinpointing several albums and manila folders.

“you read,” he said, awkwardly.

“i should hope i’m literate for a job like this,” you responded, nasally exhaling. you could practically read his mind at this point, and it was all alarms. secretly, you hoped he won’t leave. just as you’re stuck in the land of dreams, he pulls out the least desirable item on the shelf; your black folder.

“no—“ you could barely get out before marius hesitated at your sudden alertness, causing him to drop its contents. newspaper clippings, photos and entries were scattered across the floor and you placed your hands on your face, sighing. the blond man bent down and picked up a particular headline.

“das kopfgeld für den jägerin wird in millionenhöhe aufgebracht,” he read, eyes wide. ‘the bounty for the huntress is raised in the millions’... a photo of you was the cover image, standing in front of a typical prison height marker. “you’re—“

“i can explain,” you blurted, standing up. “listen, i was a bad person. i came here to save my name. sure, everyone else is afraid of me, but i had no choice. i needed the money and—

“that’s kinda hot,” marius interrupted, starstuck. “i—i mean, not the killing, but...” you raised a brow. nobody’s ever explained your past like that, you only heard that comment about your body. you laughed once.

“you’re into the predator versus prey thing?” you teased, biting your bottom lip to fight a shit-eating grin. “i see.”

“no! i mean— well— erm,” his hands moved frantically. “i’m not—“

“it’s okay, streicher,” you assured, placing a hand on his arm. “i won’t tell.”

“y/n?”

“uh, yeah?”

“i kinda want you to kiss me.”

“everyone does.”

you kissed him anyway.

he’s the only person on earth not afraid of you,

and that’s kinda cute.