#(besides a necklace a scarf and. all my art!)

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

Finally finished arranging the A Tale of Two Cities shelf on my new bookcase👏🥹

[myers-meadow]

Hogwarts uni AU: Draught of Peace

Chapter 2: Draught of Peace. Chapter 1 here.

Pairing: Severus Snape x oc Minoes.

Summary: University life continues. A mishap on Jasmine's part messes up what should have been a wonderful Potion's class, and Minoes' has trouble with a persistant migraine. Jasmine belongs to @devil-doll13, Scarlet belongs to @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better.

Warnings: none.

Word count: 4255

Dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers.

Tuesday.

I could just feel the time of my menstruation approaching. The morning started a little earlier, with how early I was to bed the night before, and I took my time getting ready. Layers of myself; spider necklace, strings and strings of beads, clinking together faithfully, the same braid I slept in pinned up again. I cast a similar spell as the one I used last night, to make little stars glimmer in my hair. They won’t last all day, but that’s alright. The headscarf of choice today is the deep blue one with the forget-me-nots.

At the breakfast table, I sank down next to Scarlet, who sat by herself, reading a book. I pulled down the scarf as I reached the table – it’s something for in the hallways and outside, but not during lectures or meals.

“Good morning,” I greet as I sit down. They closed their book, checking the page number to remember later. Must’ve ran out of bookmarks.

“Morning. You greet me as if we haven’t seen each other as soon as we woke up,” she said.

“Hmm, I thought it’d be impolite not to say anything. How did you sleep?”

“Decent,” was all they said and I helped myself to one of the cereals on the table.

“You know,” I started absentmindedly, “it’s all fun with the house colours and the robes and all, but I can’t help but think we got unlucky.”

Scarlet hummed noncommittally.

“Green doesn’t look good on me. It clashes with almost every other colour besides the usual colours that match with everything. Don’t get me wrong, I also wear black all the time, but look how pretty this scarf is.”

“Forget-me-nots,” they affirmed, with a short nod.

“Yeah. And it’s blue. With this green? I hate it.”

“Then don’t wear it. I like green.”

“That’d feel like losing. It’s windy, I need the scarf for when I go to Herbology, ” I grumbled, then I realised I’d have to eat quick to get some food in me before breakfast is over. “I have Art now, gotta run, see you, Scarlet!”

Wizardly Art, taught by the wonderful teacher, Professor De Smet, all the way from Belgium, who greeted us with a large projection of Witches on the Sabbath (1878) by Spanish painter Luis Ricardo Falero.

“Who of you knows this painting?”

Like the overeager art school ho, I raised my hand instantly. He pointed at me to let me know to go ahead. “Witches during the Sabbath.”

“Very good,” and he clicked to the next slide, showing my minute mistake in title, and more information about the artwork. “Falero is one of those painters famed in the muggle world for his female nudes, but who has made a very different art that he kept for fellow wizards only. Now some of his works are in private galleries of some large pureblood families, or in the homes of descendants of his family.”

Dipping my quill in the ink, I took notes eagerly. The slides switched to one of his magical artworks; a beautiful female nude, with her holding a wand, posing coquettishly. Professor De Smet continued.

“Originally taught in Paris, student of the similarly well-known painter Gabriel Ferrier, he devoted himself to the arts after failed experiments in the sciences. Yes, this man was one of those who seemed to want to do it all. Now, you may be wondering; how did he get away with his portrayal of witches in the manner he did?”

Art flew by and I hurried to the greenhouses for Herbology after. Neville greeted me, and I sat down next to him. The last seat. He must’ve saved it for me. I smiled gratefully at him.

“Nice of you to join us, as well,” said Professor Sprout about my tardiness. Untying my scarf and getting my quill out, I tried looking in Neville’s book to see the subject of the day.

“Sopophorous plant,” whispered Neville, leaning in so closely that we bumped heads as I righted myself with book in hand. “Damn, ouch!” he hissed quietly, rubbing his forehead.

Sprout sent us a stern look, hands on her hips.

“Ahem. If the two lovebirds back there could pay attention, that’d be great,” she said, lips pursed. I elbowed Neville to pay attention and he did, sheepishly. Gods, let this be a good year and not let me fail Herbology.

I met up with Scarlet during lunch.

“I saw on the notice board that duelling is tonight, are you joining again this year?”

Scarlets face brightened up by the mention of her favourite after class activity. “I am.”

We both stared out at the lunch table. Eventually I plucked a hot cross bun from one of the plates.

“You miss the food back home?” I asked. They helped themselves to something, and poured a glass of pumpkin juice.

“You know it,” she chuckled. “Dinners are really good though, just not the bread.”

“I may ask my parents to send some,” I said, thinking aloud. “They probably have enough going on, though.”

“Hey Minoes, hey Scarlet,” said a familiar voice. Anatoli, who climbed over the bench to sit next to me. I scooted over to make room, smiling at him.

“Hey! I missed you during Art just now. I though you were also taking it this year?”

“I am – just had a thing with the…” he pointed over his shoulder, letting his voice trail off, and shrugged. “We have Ethics after this, though.”

“Can’t wait,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. Then I checked with Scarlet, who hadn’t said a word. A little suspicious of a new face perhaps. She didn’t know which of the Slytherins was nice and which would call her a slur to her face, after all. “Scarlet, this is Anatoli, my dear friend from Ethics.”

They exchanged polite greetings, but it felt like it was little use. At least I tried. Anatoli seemed eager to talk with just me, so I left it.

“What did I miss in Art?”

After the most boring Ethics class, it was finally time to retire. I was tired from having people around me, and left my headscarf on during dinner to relieve at least some of the noise of the Great Hall. After eating, the library was my sanctuary. Thankfully that one alcove I inhabited during the previous year was empty and I settled down to get a good start at the various assignments for the different classes. Something about uses of lavender for Potions, the ethics of Plato and how to apply them to the use of love and hate potions for Ethics, a study of one artwork of own choosing by Falero for Art, and for Herbology… well. A disaster. I’ll have to find Neville tomorrow.

As I penned down the different uses of lavender, making sure to include information on how the methods to prepare them effect their workings, my mind kept wandering off to the Potion’s class. Just the smell of the classroom was enough to make me yearn for the Professor. My father was proud when he heard about my good grades in Potions, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was because Professor Snape is just a really good teacher. He has this way of explaining things during lectures that just make them stick in my brain. And unlike the other teachers, who waved me off when I came to them with difficult questions, sighing and rolling their eyes, he actually took me seriously. Not only that; he only gave cryptic answers, which forced me to find the solution on my own – which is incredible. To him it all seems to come so naturally…

Images of him crushing up hellebore petals, beautiful bony hands measuring the ingredients, testing the temperature with a wet finger to the side of the cauldron, his at ease expression as he stirred – then looked up and met my eyes… A single moment last year that still was impossible to forget.

I slammed my book closed. Nevermind. Better continue tomorrow, if all my brain wants to do is daydream.

Retreated back to the Slytherin common room after the library closed for the night. My second night at Hogwarts and I was already going back so late… The lack of students in the halls brought me peace. The tall windows of the common room, looking out over the dark lake calmed me. It’s so dark and serene out there. Barely anyone was left, just some smaller groups of students, quietly chatting or reading amongst themselves. I stood so close to the window that I could feel the cold seep through the glass and stared at the underwater vegetation swaying gently in the stream.

Wednesday.

Terrible headache. The blood started, too. A rainy day; black wool headscarf with roses and the nice fringe. Changed the spider necklace for the sun and moon one, then layered on the strings of beads, the lipstick, enchanted Saturn earrings, the rest of me. Black blouse, velvet skirt. During breakfast, I finished writing a letter to a friend back home.

I was glad to spot Jasmine during Charms, sitting somewhere near the front of the class. Scarlet had found her before I did, and sat on her other side. Both greeted me.

“I dearly hope the assignment was for next week,” I mumbled, as I sit down next to her.

“Yeah, it is,” she nodded, kindly smiling.

“How is Peaches settling in?”

She perked up at mention of her dear cat. “Quite well! She misses me now that I leave her alone for most of the day, but she adjusts quite well.”

Class came to an end, and I finished by writing a reminder to do the assignment before Monday.

“Where do you usually study?” I asked Jasmine as she pushed her book into her bag, the quill in a separate compartment.

“Common room or library. There are some spots that are quite nice in there. How about you two?”

“Library, but in the dorms as well. I like the view of the lake,” said Scarlet. “The couches are more comfortable than the wooden chairs in the library.”

“There’s this little alcove that I like in the library, but there’s plenty spots quiet enough for me. Maybe we could meet up and study together sometime,” I proposed. Both of them nodded.

“Could be fun. Always good to feel less alone.”

“Bring Peaches,” I grinned, and our paths parted.

After classes, I worked on assignments, and after finishing some on time, I made my way up to the Astronomy tower to see Hannah Theresa. Giving her treats and pets, she was happy to see me. Finally, after a nice time enjoying the view, I gave her the letter I wrote during breakfast and watched her fly off. Magnificent creature.

Thursday.

Terrible migraine persisted. Ran out of potions for it. Made a mental note to stop by the Potion’s classroom or Professor Snape’s office to ask if I could make myself some. Put on the layers of me like zipping up a difficult theatre costume. Realised that it would soon be done with the summer weather, so I choose a my nice, yet not so warm, sheer spiderweb lace shirt instead of a blouse. Back to the spider necklace, to fit with the theme. Perhaps I should tinker around and find a spell to get artificial spiderwebs in my hair. It’d be cute.

“Good morning, Scarlet,” I greeted, seeing we were both awake at the same time.

“Morning,” they said, rubbing their eyes before lowering their glasses.

What classes are on today? Alchemy, Potions and Ethics. The black wool scarf from yesterday was too precious to get messed up with alchemy and potion fumes, so I choose the another black one, a nice cotton blend with soft coloured hydrangea. Hair pinned up so nothing could fall into a cauldron by accident. The ritual of it calmed me down. I was buzzing with excitement to see Professor Snape again.

Alchemy was everything but a breeze, but nothing could beat my good mood. Even Scarlet noticed it, as we walked to the dungeons.

“You’re so cheerful today,” they remarked. “Is it because of the particular class we’re heading to now?”

���Hmm, maybe. Did wake up with a terrible headache, though.”

“You should see Madam Pomfrey. She’s a great help.”

“I’ll think on it. My dad helped me a lot over the summer and we finally made a recipe that actually helps with the specific type of migraine I get.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to spend more time hanging around Snape.”

Ah. Ouch. “That’s really mean and not true, actually,” I said, keeping my tone flat. We reached the classroom and were joined by our favourite Ravenclaw friend. “Hey Jasmine.”

“Time for Potions again,” she said, looking dejected.

“It’s not too bad. We’ll help you, if you want? Let’s meet up in the library when we can and we will help,” I said.

We entered. Draco jeered at Scarlet, but the Professor’s entrance ended that quickly, thank goodness.

“Today we will be brewing the Draught of Peace,” he started, “a potion meant to calm the mind and relieve anxieties.”

My heart surged at the sound of his voice. I was glad there was this large, safe  distance between us. Glad to know I could admire him from afar, to feel inspired by his mastery of the art of Potions, to push myself to greater things hoping for only the smallest bit of praise… Oh right, we need ingredients.

As we started with preparing what we needed, Scarlet leant to me.

“What is Malfoy’s problem today?” they hissed.

“Maybe a fly died in his pumpkin juice this morning.”

Starting the potion, I used the bottom of the mortar to do the heavy lifting of crushing the ingredients, trying my best not to make a lot of noise as I slammed it down to break the unicorn horn and the moonstones.

“Miss Vleerebosch, is that how we crush porcupine quills now?” His voice so close to my ear made me jolt. I looked back to see him examining my work station with one eyebrow raised. Displeasure was written all over his face and I sighed.

“It’s quicker, Professor.”

But he already moved on to Jasmine’s cauldron. I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing the headache away.

“And what have we here? Tell me, Miss Daly,” his voice was different now, more than just displeased. “Precisely where in your textbook does it specify that your potion should look like an oil spill?”

Ouch. I glanced at Jasmine to check if she was okay, but my cauldron bubbled dangerously, so I quickly moved to lower the head and add the two drops of hellebore syrup. All the while, Professor Snape continued lecturing poor Jasmine. She already had it tough in Potions…

A bang made me look up, only to see that Snape’s robe caught fire, and a stunned Jasmine standing there, wand in hand.

“What,” he spat through gritted teeth. He looked mortified. “Exactly did you just do!?” 

Jasmine fumbled over her words, eventually settling on: ““Well I just- Sir, you’re, um, very flammable, and…”

Flammable? What a mess. Having caught the attention of the entire classroom, the Gryffindor didn’t hide their joy at seeing the hated professor on fire. Shocked as I was, the absurdity of it all made me laugh awkwardly. The Slytherins weren’t any better, snickering quietly, forgetting all about their potions.

Another loud clatter, and Finnigan’s cauldron fell of the table, spilling its boiling contents all over the floor.

Still on fire, Professor Snape seethed with rage, not doing anything to extinguish himself. Merlin, what do I do?

Deciding to risk it, I cast a spell to summon water, pointing it at him. It worked, and the flames went out. I breathed. The smell of smoke lingered.

“Mr Finnigan!” Snape snapped, whirling around to face Seamus. His clothes were so badly damaged they fell to the floor. “That’s twenty points from Gryffindor, and a failing grade!” 

Finnigan’s laughter died down quickly, as did the rest of the class. The spell was broken. Laughter made way for apprehension and fear.

Seeing the hot orange liquid bubbling dangerously on the floor, another disaster waiting to happen, I said, frowning: “Clean that up, Finnigan. Before it ignites!” 

“Oh, right!” 

Seamus scrambled to clean it up himself, but Scarlet was quicker and did it for him: “Scourgify!” 

I shook my head, and took over Jasmine’s potion as that didn’t look too good either. Professor Snape’s fury had her shaking in her boots. What a mess.

Needless to say, class ended quickly and terribly.

After lunch, I studied a bit in the library, before Ethics started. The cramps were setting in fully now, and conjuring up a hot water bottle just didn’t cut it. Not to speak of the migraines. It was scary to think of the mood Snape would be in, but perhaps I really should stop by the dungeons. Before I ruin my grades this early because I can’t focus past the pain.

Ethics was suffering, but I tried my best to make the most of it with Dana and Anatoli. I hoped they couldn’t tell that I wasn’t in it. The first of the gossip about what happened during Potions already circulated in the classroom and the hallways. Setting fire to a teacher would have the school lively with whispers, let alone that teacher being Professor Snape. I felt bad for him. After class, we chatted while walking back to the common room.

“I heard your crush on Snape has ended,” said Dana, stretching after the lecture was over. I dropped my book and quill in my bag, hoping the notes I took were good enough to revise later.

“Who told you that?”

“Is it true?” Anatoli perked up.

Dana nodded eagerly and got up to walk out of the classroom. “She had a summer fling!”

I rolled my eyes. Better play along. We entered the hallway. “Let’s discuss this in the dorms at least,” I proposed. They agreed. Once we were in the common room, the subject immediately shifted back to me, unfortunately.

“So tell us about your summer lover,” pushed Anatoli.

“Alright, alright,” I held up my hands in mock surrender. “He studied philosophy with me when I went to muggle university, he only listens to Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan and he played guitar for me, and we went star gazing a lot. That enough?”

“Who are they?” asked Dana, and I remembered she wouldn’t be familiar with muggle artists. We found our familiar seats on the couches by one of the fireplaces.

“Muggle musicians,” and I quickly made some comparisons to some artists that she would know. “Essentially a romantic soul.”

Dana looked at me, her expression serious. “You dated a muggle?”

“Hm?” I frowned. “Sure did. Liked him a whole lot, too.”

“I knew you studied at a muggle university before this, but…” her voice trailed off, eyes shifting everywhere but to me. I looked at her sharply, glad she didn’t look at me or I’d frighten her. Anatoli laid a warm hand on my knee for a brief second.

“What do you mean?” I encouraged her, voice betraying nothing but curiosity.

“Didn’t think you’d enjoy being with one. Since, you know. You’re a witch. It’s not… It must be hard.” She changed her posture, growing uncomfortable.

“It was pretty fun, actually,” I chuckled. “We still write letters sometimes.”

Then she looked at me, sudden and unexpected. “I just wouldn’t want you to settle for someone like him, when there’s so many good wizards out there to choose from.”

What a diplomatic answer. Very telling, but diplomatic.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” I said, and decided to end it with a joke: “Love hardly feels like choice, or I’d never have liked Professor Snape.”

That lightened the mood, and both of them laughed softly.

“Well, good wizard or not, I hardly think he’s a suitable lover for anyone,” Anatoli chuckled.

“Every pot has a lid!” I said cheerfully. “But I have to go, I should borrow a book for Herbology before I forget about it again. Bye, see you at dinner!”

With that disaster averted, and making a quick note in my dairy to not trust Dana too much, I gathered all the courage I could find until I stood in front of the Potion’s classroom. After knocking and hearing a gruff ‘come in’, I entered. Professor Snape stood by the shelves that lined the walls, tinkering with bottles of ingredients.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” I greeted, and closed the door behind me. “Are you… alright? That was quite the situation earlier.”

There were no traces of what happened anywhere. Good. The look Professor Snape gave me as I came closer was the most hateful look I’ve ever seen him wear. It shocked me, felt like my heart froze over.

“What do you hope to accomplish by asking that?” He looked like a wounded animal.

“I worry,” was all I could think to say. “Is it forbidden to care?”

“I don’t need your pity!” He moved towards me, towering and casting frightful shadows across the walls. When he reached me, my eyes widened in shock, he gripped me by the shoulders and pushed me to the door.

“Professor-“

“Get out! Get out!”

The door slammed in my face. Fuck. What now? Jesus Christ. Another sharp stab of pain pounded through my temples. Ok. Fuck it. I knocked rapidly on the door.

“Get away!”

I kept knocking urgently. “I came to brew a potion! Let me at least use the supplies!”

No answer. My knuckles hurt by now, but nothing beats the migraine. Then the door swung open, so unexpectedly that I almost lost my balance. He jerked me inside by a sharp grip on my arm. The door locked behind me.

“At least do it in silence,” he hissed, his eyes shooting fire. I nodded, keeping quiet, but my frustration grew.

After gathering ingredients, I sat in my usual seat and prepared to start brewing.

“What potion,” Snape’s cutting voice shook me from my thoughts and I looked up over the cutting board, “is important enough to disturb me for?”

It wasn’t a genuine question. It was him seeking to intimidate me.

With similar venom, I replied: “Perhaps you can recognise it from the ingredients and seeing the preparation? Surely a great teacher such as yourself would be able to.” While I knew full well this was a potion my dad and I invented.

The knife came down on the chopping board a little too harshly. The spikes of pain made me want to retaliate anything thrown at me, and somewhere deep down I knew that’s what Snape felt as well. Yet I couldn’t find it in me to let myself be treated like an emotional punching bag today. So I brewed in silence, ignoring the prickling feeling of his eyes on me.

The tinkering of glass against glass as he arranged his ingredients soon put me more at ease. Brewing was always calming for me, and I breathed in deep once I put in the crushed lavender buds. Good. It’s coming along. Every once in awhile I’d sense he was looking at me, and I’d stare right back. It seemed he was truly trying to see what potion I was making.

A long hour and a half later, the potion was done, and I ladled it carefully into vials. I felt better just by knowing that now I’d have enough to last me a week. After barely waiting for it to cool down, I moved to drink one now, but Snape cut in. He stood in front of me suddenly, peering down at me past his nose.

“That’s not a potion I’m familiar with. If you see it fit to poison yourself, go ahead.”

“It’s a recipe of my own,” I replied, “for the migraines I get.” And I drank the vial to the last drop. He raised an eyebrow.

“Leech juice, lavender buds, salamander blood, poppy head, unicorn horn, honeywater, billywig sting slime, moondew drops, chizpurfle fangs, dried nettle, dittany, thaumatagoria; that’s quite a rare ingredient for an at home remedy,” he sounded critical. “I assume that’s your take on a Wiggenweld Potion.”

Under his scrutinising stare, I hastily sat up and threw the peels in the bin.

“It started out as such, but I kept changing ingredients around until it worked for me. My dad helped, of course,” I said, cleaning the rest of the workspace as quickly as I could.

Professor Snape remained quiet.

“You’re welcome to try some, if you ever get a migraine,” I joked.

“If it’s done, you can get out.” But his voice was softer. We stared at each other for a long moment. Slowly, my headache faded. Still, neither of us moved a muscle. His eyes darted over my face, seeking something, and he seemed calmed, much calmer than he was when I came in. His handsome face, regal and gaunt at the same time, was enough to take my breath away. His dark eyes were hypnotising, every time I tried looking away, I was sucked right back in. His lips parted slightly, as though there was something to say, but it never came. Then, a knock sounded on the door, and the spell was broken. Quickly, I gathered my vials and ran off.

[droctaviolovecraft]

ANM-087: Raul Seixas Back From The Dead (pixel art made by me, as all drawings that i don't give "credits" are made by me)

http://mothrainstitution.wikidot.com/anm-087

"My last name is crazy beauty."

Subject Classification: M-03-087

Damage Type: Null ⚪️

Danger Level: SAFE 🟢

Anomaly Type: Musical

Discovery Classification: Discovered (03)

Department: Department of Human and Humanoid Anomalies (07)

Responsible Researcher: Dr. Octavio and Dr. Higanbana

Identification: Raul Seixas Back from the Dead

Containment: ANM-087 is to be kept in D-07 B1, in a specially designated room for its containment. The room should be decorated with rock band records, guitars, and a variety of costumes related to the anomaly's personality and preferences, kept inside a wardrobe. The decoration aims to maintain the entity's emotional stability. Posters, a radio, and a pet spider kept in a terrarium are also present in the room.

The containment room should have adequate dimensions to provide a comfortable environment, approximately 5m x 5m. The lighting should be adjustable to simulate different environments and promote a relaxed atmosphere. The presence of objects related to pop culture is also essential for the anomaly's satisfaction.

Description: ANM-087 is a humanoid entity with notable characteristics of the Brazilian musician Raul Seixas (1945-1989). The anomaly has a striking personality, showing enjoyment in bothering or making jokes about other staff members, also being relaxed in its interactions.

ANM-087's physical appearance resembles the musician, maintaining distinctive features such as a beard, glasses, and clothing associated with his public image. The entity measures approximately 1.75m in height and does not exhibit significant physiological variations when compared to a typical human, besides being considerably undernourished, weighing 45kg.

ANM-087's primary anomalous ability consists of its capacity for instant teleportation. This ability manifests through a dark smoke, in which the entity disappears and reappears in other locations. No precise limits to the extent of this ability have been identified, making containment more challenging, although Raul collaborates with MOTHRA, even while constantly causing confusion by "messing around" with other anomalies.

ANM-087 was discovered and contained by the Institution while performing in Rio de Janeiro, in an improvised show, singing songs in a more melancholic tone, such as "À Beira do Pantanal."

In the containment environment, ANM-087 exhibits peaceful behavior, not showing aggressive tendencies, usually dancing around the room while playing music. The anomaly remains under constant observation, with containment protocols regularly updated as new information is discovered.

Some of ANM-087's costumes include:

1. Classic Rocker: Leather jacket, faded jeans, rock'n'roll style boots, sunglasses, and a guitar.

2. Astronaut: Colorful space suit, helmet decorated with psychedelic elements and stars, space boots.

3. Knight: Imaginary armor with psychedelic patterns, helmet adorned with mystical symbols, colorful cape.

4. Pirate: Pirate hat with rock band emblems, red scarf, leather jacket with skull accessories, high boots.

5. Wizard: Long blue cloak with moon and sun prints, magic wand, pointed hat with musical symbols.

6. Glam Rock Star: Extravagant and shiny outfit, flashy makeup, flowing hair, glittering accessories.

7. Vinyl Viking: Viking helmet decorated with vinyl records, shield and sword made of similar material, sturdy clothing.

8. Cowboy: Vibrantly colored cowboy hat, psychedelic fringe jacket, pants with psychedelic prints, cowboy boots.

9. Pharaoh: Ancient Egypt-inspired outfit with a funky twist, golden ornaments, extravagant necklace, decorated sandals.

10. Samurai: Samurai armor with incorporated musical elements, katana transformed into a giant guitar handle, ornate helmet.

11. Hippie.

12. Vampire.

13. Ghost Buster.

14. Gravedigger.

15. Terrorist.

16. Dictator.

The symbol of a key in the middle of its belly is observed, painted with dried blood. Meanwhile, the individual still seems to believe that he is in the period of the Brazilian military regime, often challenging the Brazilian military government and singing offensive songs, usually "Rock das Aranha," "Sociedade Alternativa," or "A Lei."

Dr. Higanbana: Hello, Raul. The MOTHRA Foundation is interested in understanding more about your unique nature. How do you feel here, after the musical events in Rio de Janeiro?

Raul: Hey, buddy! It's always a trip coming back, feeling that energy, you know? The people from Rio, the music, all together. It's like I never left.

Dr. Higanbana: Fascinating. About your ability to disappear in a dark smoke, how does that work?

Raul: Ah, it's just a matter of style, my friend. A special touch I brought from there, from where I am now. Who knows, knows.

Dr. Higanbana: I see. You interact in a relaxed manner with the audience. What's the purpose behind that?

Raul: Life is too short to be serious, right? I'm here to put a smile on people's faces, bring a positive vibe. Music is meant to be fun, my friend.

Dr. Higanbana: And what about your perception of the current world?

Raul: You know, sometimes I find myself thinking... how hasn't the world ended yet? So much confusion, so much madness out there. But we keep going, right? Making music, laughing, enjoying. It's kinda crazy, but that's how it is.

Dr. Higanbana: Curious point of view. Any message you'd like to share with us?

Raul: Oh, yeah! Folks, relax, enjoy life, listen to more music. Sometimes we take things so seriously that we forget to smile. And remember, I'm the crazy one, not the world. We're in this together!

Interview concluded. Raul disappears in a dark smoke, ending the encounter.

[postmodernbeing]

Shingeki no Kyojin Headcanons: 104th training corps (College AU - Outfits pt I)

Hello, Postmodernbeing here. I decided to continue writing about this College AU , only this time, I'm making some outfits HCs, since I'm working in a oneshot and this visuals could be helpful. Also, it seemed like a lot of fun so I've decided to give it a try. Hope y'all like this. Much love.

IMPORTANT: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin nor the trend of this outfits-displays, only this HCs belong to me. // Contains spoilers (for the icons that I used in some characters) // English is not my first language, so I ask for your patience and understanding.

Eren Yeager

Chains and rings of stainless-steel. Combat boots matching faux-leather jackets with studs and pins from bands.

Has a few flannel shirts (that he stole from Zeke, his brother doesn't mind, tho). But for the most part, Eren's shirts are from merch of bands with a few (handmade) changes.

Eren likes to sew badly on purpose some patterns or figures by following quick tutorials. All his clothes are modified or drawn over.

While his main looks are metal head alike, he also wears snickers, hoodies, sporty pants, and jackets to class. Pretty laid back, he looks as he just woke up from a nap all the time tbh.

Sometimes goes skating but he’s not that good, his skateboard is more of a fashion statement really.

Has both ears pierced around (lobe type) and tattoos on both arms.

It’s pretty obvious to this point, but I’ll say it anyways: Eren wears black religiously. Definitely he’s open to darker shades of any color, but must wear something black at least.

Mikasa Ackerman

Our girl wears black clothes mostly. She doesn’t have a preference between skirts/dresses or pants, but you’ll rarely see her wearing jeans.

Many skirts and ripped tights to match with platform boots or classic converse. Also owns a large wardrobe with different hoodie and shirt sizes and designs yet mostly in dark shades.

Lots of necklaces and rings with perforations to match, none in her face yet lots in her ears. Mikasa has only one tattoo: Azumabito’s clan logo.

Speaking about Azumabito’s, whenever she’s working with them, she wears faux leather jackets at most, and her classic red turtleneck. Nothing too exaggerated nor formal.

A total goth since middle school, and even though in college finds it a bit unpractical, she tries to keep it as loyal to her style as possible.

Books and notebooks are part of her attires. She’d be writing or reading at any time that’s possible. Not always about her classes, tho. She also likes novels and arts. An artsy goth, perhaps?

Armin Arlert

Sky blue is his color. Matching it with classy pants and blazers in clear colors.

His wardrobe looks like one that belongs to an aristocrats’ son. Some light-academia realness.

He can pull off some casual looks with sneakers but it’s more common for him to wear his oxfords, cap toes or moccasins to class, or anywhere really.

Cardigans, vests and blazers are his best friends as soon as autumn arrives. Always in colors such as beige, green, brown, and grey.

Armin is easily the best dressed from all his group of friends, and I’m not even open to discuss this. Let’s just remember his canon outfits throughout the four seasons. Even in a Modern AU he’ll keep being the king he is.

Not a big fan of accessories though. Except for his handkerchiefs that match his blazers. Since his grandfather used to choose his clothes, he taught Armin that a handkerchief was a gentleman’s must carry. Now he wears them only to pay his grandpa honor, as a lesson more so.

Jean Kirstein

King of brown jackets and turtlenecks. Really, his wardrobe is in such color harmony. It’s impressive.

Little to no accessories besides an occasional scarf or a single ring matching some bracelet.

Although he’s used to wear a consistent type of clothes and even colors, he wouldn’t dare to define a style for himself, is it boho? art hoe? dark academia? Maybe we’ll never know.

Zero perforations only because he’s scared of pain, but Jean is really drawn into them, so he uses fake ones for his ears sometimes. Has only one little hidden tattoo, made when he started college and lost a bet against Sasha and Connie.

Jean’s always stylish, clean, and smelling like cologne. He also has an extensive routine for shaving, combing his hair and trimming his beard.

Second best dressed of all his friends. Lowkey loves fashion but keeps it for himself (and Marco). Plus, in her mother’s house he keeps more clothes than his dorm' wardrobe can storage.

Marco Bodt

Colorful, youthful, and casual, that’s his style. Marco’s clothes reflect his joyful personality and every time he enters a room, he brightens the mood so easily.

A lot of denim and if he’s not wearing bright colors, you can be sure he’s caring something white with him (a bandana, a baseball cap, a scarf or his sneakers).

Shares with Jean a special appreciation for clothing, except Marco prefers more laidback and casual outfits.

Has no tattoos but recently got both ears pierced. He decided to since he really likes the earrings that k-pop idols wear.

If spring was a wardrobe, Marco would have it. I can’t stress this enough. Just so pretty and genuine.

Also, he definitely uses accessories (small jelly or colorful rings, bracelets of all kinds and simple necklaces) but there's more, he uses objects that are not meant to as accessories too. Such as band aids and small stickers around his face, skates in his backpack and flowers in his pockets.

Sasha Blouse

Unironically messy style. No matching patterns nor colors, different textures and sizes that made little to no coordination in her outfits. Unaesthetic is her aesthetic.

She likes baggy jackets and jeans with big pockets for snacks obviously, midi-skirts and graphic tees. Sasha is the definition of zero fucks given and still looking cute.

Of course, she knows how to pull off some cool outfits, it’s just that she doesn’t care that much unless is specifically required.

Not a big fan of accessories besides belts (maybe) and her backpack. Unless we’re talking about bucket hats that became a must wear thanks to Connie.

“Borrows” Nicolo’s hoodies/shirts that wears with her favorite threads. Then plays dumb when her bf asks her about his clothes. They both secretly love that dynamic.

Sasha plays it safe when it's about her hairstyle, also not a big fan of makeup -at least not the way Mikasa or Historia do-, but she’s open to try new things if her best friends dare her to.

Connie Springer

King of striped shirts and golden chains. His style is mainly urban and youthful. Conniegod remains unmatched in his awesomeness even in a Modern AU, if you ask me.

Owns a collection of sneakers that wears with his numerous printed socks. So creative and colorful.

Also, Connie has a small collection of unique shaped tinted glasses, also bucket hats and simple stainless steel chains.

Has small fun tattoos around his legs and arms, ears pieced but nothing too grunge. Speaking of which, he matches religiously his earrings with his chains that hang of his belt.

Usually wears dress pants or cargo pants. Anything but denim or really skinny fitted pants. Coincidentally, most of his shirts are loose too.

Definitely brings his skateboard with him all the time so it’s part of the outfit, really (Eren tried to copy that from Connie, let’s be honest). He’s so good at skating, and when he doesn’t feel like walking around campus, skating is always a good idea.

Part II here

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Flames Led Me To You (Beric Dondarrion x Priestess! Reader) | NSFW 18+

Beric Dondarrion x Priestess! reader (There is barely anything on my mans Beric so here is a little something for my Beric loves)

I don’t own any of the plots or characters of ASOIAF/GOT that all belongs to George R. R. Martin

Jon Snow, Tormund Giantsbane, Sandor Clegane, Davos Seaworth x Priestess! reader (platonic)

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 OR DO NOT LIKE SMUT. THIS CONTRAINS SEXUAL CONTENT THAT IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK

Prompt: The Long Night is here and Winterfell is preparing for the battle between the living and the dead. The prophecy and visions that carried Y/N to this moment are unfolding. A journey that lasted years is coming to an end, which includes the man she grew to love despite the odds against them. What started as a simple vision in the flames gave birth to a feeling neither thought they would endure.

Warnings: angst, fluff,  soft SMUT, NSFW 18+ (oral-Female and male recieving, vag-penatration intercourse), allusions to death which eventually happens at the end. Might make you cry idk. nsfw content starts below the **

Word count:  7567

dialogue in bold is High Valyrian, anything in italics are flashbacks.

Darkness loomed over the Northern castle that was Winterfell. Snow covered the ground and the only light that danced around the castle walls were the flames of the touchers on every corner. It was quiet all through out the large fortress, those who were fighting in the battle to come decided to spend their final hours sleeping, eating, and in the comfort of their friends and family. While everyone was gathered in the Great Hall or secluded in their quarters, a woman in red stood on one of the many terraces overlooking the castle grounds. Her face was blank and hidden by the silk read cloak, eyes starting straight ahead into the night. The Northmen would look at her strangely due to her attire which only consisted of a thin blood-red silk dress, a scarf with a hood, and a steel necklace that encased a glowing amber amulet, but the cold didn’t bother the woman. 

Originating from the small city of Asshai in Essos, Y/N could barely recall her life before the Lord of Light. Father never in the picture and mother who worked in a brothel, the young woman was sold into slavery before she even could learn how to walk. It took years to escape and when she finally did was when she found justice and peace by surrendering herself to the one true God, R’hllor. She gave up her life to serving Him, becoming a Red Priestess who preached His messaged and traveled to wherever the visions in the flames sent her. It took years for her to master the arts of magic that the Lord bestowed on her, but she was rewarded when the time came each time.

It was in her journey of serving Him that brought her to the continent of Westeros where following the Lord of Light was rare and unheard of. For those of Westerosi culture, followers of R’hllor were seen as fanatics and looked down upon for their faith. It was here where she met fellow Red Priestess Melisandre and became an advisor to the Prince That Was Promised, Stannis Baratheon. 

There were times where the young priestess questioned the actions she and Melisandre performed. Despite this, she knew it was what was needed of the Lord of Light. Melisandre was the more assertive of the two and carried out whatever had to be done in order to secure Stannis’s claim to the Iron Throne and lead him to victory. Y/N wasn’t present for the King’s downfall. When the Lord sent her and Melisandre to the Riverlands, the flames told her to stay with the Brotherhood without Banners although she could not understand why just yet. 

The silence around her was interrupted by soft footsteps approaching. The woman never flinched when the figure walking toward her stood beside her and a hand made its way onto her lower back. “You’re alive,” her soft voice spoke without a waver. A deep chuckle was heard and Y/N slowly turned to the side where she faced the man with one eye.

“You knew I would be,” Beric replied with a smile. She didn’t return the smile, sadness consuming her and keeping her expression blank.

“And Thoros.” The man’s face fell, his gaze consorting to one of pain which was all she needed to know. Looking back towards the dark night she whispered,  “He served his purpose and the Lord called him home.” 

“Aye,” Beric muttered, “He did.” 

“He’ll be calling us too tonight.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she ignored it. Silence filled the area once more, and Y/N felt her eyes close as her mind began to reply the memories and visions leading to this moment. Her arrival in Westeros, the years with Stannis and Melisandre, and the years with Beric, Thoros and the Brotherhood. It was surreal to see how the journey her Lord had given her would end with this night. It was not surprising to her and the flames showed it months before. While she was prepared to meet Him and fulfill the divine purpose he gave her, Y/N was heartbroken by the fact Beric would be joining her.

Love was a concept Y/N avoided with her faith. She was devoted to R’hllor and there was always the feeling of knowing her time of meeting him would be at any moment. Loving someone brought complications, and Y/N cursed at herself when she realized she was falling in love with the heroic warrior. 

“You remember the day we met?” his voice spoke after several minutes of silence. The memory of that day made her lips curl slightly, a soft chuckle releasing from her.

“How could I not,” was her reply, “you wouldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

The journey to the Riverlands with Melisandre was long and gave Y/N relief when they finally arrived. They were confronted with Thoros of Myr, who Y/N had remembered was sent by the High Priest to covert King Robert Baratheon over to the Lord of Light but had failed. She stayed silent while the two conversed, her eyes glancing to the men behind Thoros every often. She spotted a small girl, dressed like a boy, watching the two closely and Y/N felt a strong aura from the young girl. Something was calling of her, but it was neither the place nor time.

Thoros led the two women to a hidden cave surrounded by the woods, the fire lighting the way allowing them to see. A lone man was seated by a fire and he turned around at the sound of them approaching. Y/N stood beside Melisandre, and removed her red hood at the same times she did allowing her face to be fully revealed to man in front of her. 

She was shocked when her eyes ran over his figure. He was missing an eye and had scars all along his neck and chest from where she could see skin. 

“Forgive my manners,” he spoke, “I don’t see many ladies these days.”

“Lucky for the ladies,” Thoros commented all while the man and Melisandre stared at each other. It was when his eye connected with Y/N’s that she felt her heart stop. She saw this man in the flames. Fighting an enemy north of the Wall although that moment would not happen any time soon. Her entire being felt drawn to him and it was in this moment Y/N knew the Lord of Light and led her to the one-eyed man.

His gaze stayed on her while Melisandre approached him. The only time he broke the stare was when the older woman was directly in front of him. Y/N slowly walked to them which had his eye flicker to her every few seconds. Melisandre looked at him amazed by his condition, realizing he had been fated with death on more than one occasion.

“How many times has the Lord brought him back,” she questioned Thoros leaving Y/N in shock. Up close she was able to see the fatal blows and shared the same amazement as the woman beside her. 

“Six.”

“That’s not possible,” Y/N whispered, her hand coming up to brush across the area where the man was missing an eye. He kept his vision on her, watching her every move and Y/N remained stoic under his stare. 

“The Lord has smiled upon me.”

“You should not have this power,” Melisandre accused which made Thoros smirk by the accusation.

“I have no power. I ask the Lord for His favor, and He responds as He will.” It went quiet in the cave after he spoke this. Y/N’s hand left the man’s face, but the two held eye contact while Melisandre turned to look at Thoros who was now sitting on a log by the fire. The older man went on a rant about his failures as a priest and being a drunk. Y/N broke the stare between her and the man to look at Thoros who continued to speak about his questioning of the Gods and stories. She felt shock through her once more when he revealed the first death of the man beside her. 

“I knelt beside his cold body and said the old words--not because I believed in them. He was my friend and he was dead. They were the only words I believed, and for the first time in my life the Lord replied.”  Thoros raised from the log, and looked toward the man he spoke of, “Beric’s eyes opened and I knew the truth, our God is the one, true God. And all men must serve Him.”

Y/N’s eyes connected with his lone once more. Never had she thought the Lord would bring back a man from the dead multiple times yet here this man, Beric, stood alive and in the flesh having been to the other side. 

“You’ve been to the other side,” Melisandre spoke the words the young woman had thought. Beric looked at her perplexed and almost offended expression.

“The other side?” he repeated, “There is no ‘other’ side. I have been to the darkneess, My Lady.” he took a pace towards them, keeping his gaze on Melisandre who stood stoic. “He sent you to us for a reason.”

A smirk appeared on the woman’s face, “You have someone He needs.” Beric’s eye traveled to the smaller woman in red.

“And you?” he voiced, “He sent you to us for a different reason I assume.” Y/N cocked her head slightly up, eyes narrowing at the older man.

“Yes, and we will find that reason soon enough.”

It had been years since that day and Y/N could recall every moment since she met the one-eyed man. His laugh had brought her out of the memory playing in her head. “Could you blame me,” he said, “It had been so long since I was in the presence of ladies and here was the most beautiful one in all of Westeros and Essos standing in front of me.” His words made her scoff.

“Stop trying to flatter me, Beric. You know it would never work.”

“You know I’ve always been one for a challenge.” He smirked back at her, although she couldn’t see it. She continued to avoid his stare, but Beric had other ideas and slowly brought the hand on her back to around her waist so he could gently turn her to him. Their chests pressed against each other and the taller man glanced down at the smaller woman in his arms. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, her hood shielding her face from the soft winds. “We’ve had quite the journey haven’t we?”

“We have,” she replied softly.

“I remember the Stark girl being so angry by your presence after we had just given the other woman her friend.” The memory made the woman chuckle. 

“She came around thought didn’t she. After all, I had to stay as a reminder in order for her to run away and continue the journey she was destined for.”

“And that destiny will be revealed tonight.” The smile fell from her lips, face consorting with sadness when she looked away from the man. Beric let out a sigh, “All those years leading up to this night. It’s a shame we won’t have anymore nights to come.” He spoke truthfully, but that didn’t mean it hurt all the less. Y/N’s eyes glossed over and she felt herself looking away from the man she grew to love. The man who made her break her vow. 

“I wish I could do more--.” 

“You’ve done all that you could.,” he cut her off bringing her chin up to look at him, “You have served our Lord well, and you will be rewarded by Him for your service.

“You dying doesn’t feel like a reward,” her voice wavered, “I was ready to go, but not watch you before it happens.” A lone tear escaped her eye when she closed them and she felt his thumb reach up to brush it away. Touch lingering on her skin when he brought it back down to trace her bottom lip. 

“I knew this would happen,” there was a crack in her tone, “This is why I told myself to never love anyone. It would only bring me pain.” Beric brought his lips to her forehead while she clutched onto his clothes. In the time they spent together, Y/N was very stoic when it came to expressing her emotions. She never really cried and when she did it would be away from prying eyes. The woman wouldn’t speak verbally of her affections toward him, but Beric knew from her lingering gazes and a smile reserved for only him that she felt returned the feelings he grew toward her. 

Beric realized his love for Y/N shortly after the two met. It was hard for him not too, she was breathtakingly beautiful who shared the same faith as him and knew how to calm his nerves whenever they were faced with a threat. He could see through her detached demeanor, being only one of two people with Thoros being the second, who had seen her vulnerable. It was in moments of vulnerability she showed where her guard was down that Beric felt his love her grow. It was two years from the present moment that he confessed his feelings, but the young woman told him “There would never be a future between us, the Lord has given me a purpose as he has you and we must fulfill that purpose.” Beric wasn’t surprised by her response, and though she was serious about her stance the man could see her conflicting behavior over it. She wouldn’t admit it to him and he knew that which is why he never said anything about it since.  

He pulled his lips away and rested his forehead on hers, hand coming to rest on her cheek. “I have done my duty, and I couldn’t have been more honored to have you by my side. The Lord of Light brought us together, he brought you to me for a reason all those years ago. Have you found that reason?” 

Her eyes fluttered open and their noses brushed against each other. “The flames led me to you. I saw you beyond the Wall, I saw you here at Winterfell protecting the Stark girl....” there was a pause before she finally spoke, “I saw you with me. I tried to avoid it because I knew how it would end and I wanted to save us from the heartbreak it would bring.” Y/N went quiet, unable to find the right words that could ease the pain they both were feeling even if it didn’t show. “I’m sorry, Beric. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when I realized my feelings for you. You deserved so much better. If you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me--.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Y/N,” he told her, his tone nothing but genuine. “You did what you thought was right and I cannot blame you for that.” Another tear trailed down her cheek. Here was a man who faced death six times and was brought back by the Lord only to find the end of his journey on the Long Night. He deserved so much more in her eyes. Beric should have went on to marry, have children, and grow old alongside his wife before dying a peaceful death in his sleep. And the thought of it never happening to him brought anguish to the young priestess.

“But now it’s too late,” she said, “You should’ve been happy. I could’ve given you at least a year or two of happiness.”

“And you did,” he hushed her, “You did make me happy, for many years I was happy just by having you by my side. Having you kept me motivated and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” His lips came down where they hovered just over hers, “I always knew you felt the same, Y/N, but I understood why you never said anything. Despite not saying it, I knew in my heart you loved me and that made me happy.” A sob escaped her lips and Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Beric took the chance to close the gap between them, his lips capturing hers in a long awaited kiss. The action made her gasp, but she responded back all the same with her arms going to wrap around his neck and his resting on her waist. 

The world around them disappeared, and it was as if they were they only ones who existed. No Night King, no army of the dead, no wars between Kings and Queens, just a young priestess and a man gifted many chances at life.  

Y/N could feel the fire in her rising as they kissed. Her body leaning into the man who held her with care. When Beric pulled away, he kept his face close to hers, “It’s not too late just yet. We still have tonight.” His words confused her at first, but the desire in his eyes pieced the puzzle together. Her small hand grasped his before turning to walk, pulling him with her while she guided him to her chambers not too far away. Anyone could pass them and she wouldn’t care, there would only be a few hours before the dead arrived and Y/N was determined to make these final ones with Beric worth everything. 

**

The moment the two entered the small room the priestess had been staying in Beric had her pressed against the door. His arms lifting her off the ground where her legs wrapped around his waist which was easy since her dress was thin and not layered. His mouth found hers, claiming it in a passionate kiss that left the woman in a daze. A hand bushed over her thigh, hitching it up higher that caused Y/N to gasp when she felt his hard bulge rub against her thinly clothed core. Beric trailed his lips down her neck over any exposed skin he could find while her fingers ran through his hair.

As his lips ghosted over her collarbone, Y/N tugged on his hair to pull him away from her skin. “Will you surrender yourself to me, Beric,” she whispered against his lips, “Just as I will surrender myself to you.”  The hand on her thigh traveled up her body, cupping her breast before caressing the area between her neck and shoulder.

“I will have you, if you have me.” Her lips returned to his and Y/N felt herself being moved from her place against the door to across the room. Beric laid her down on the soft furs, his hands moving down her body to where the laces of her silk attire laid. He first reached up to remove her scarf before going back to her dress. Y/N kept her eyes on his while he undid the lace, never once breaking the eye contract when his hands went to remove the fabric from her shoulders to reveal her bare skin. The dress fell onto the bed leaving the young woman exposed in all her glory with only the amulet remaining around her neck.

Beric had never seen a more beautiful being. His lone eye traveled all over her figure, admiring each and every curve she possessed. She watched his expression turn to one of desire and he soon leaned over her to capture her lips in a soft kiss before moving his mouth downward. Y/N gasped when he kissed along the valley of her breasts, hands coming up to grasp the mounds while he continued to kiss every inch of her torso, playfully biting the skin on her hips. The moans escaping her filled the room and another gasp could be heard from her when Beric’s breath was felt on her inner thigh. 

Y/N’s eyes connected with his, Beric placing a kiss on the skin above her pubic bone where the hair of his beard ticked her, before reaching to interlace his hand with hers. His other hand rested on her hip to keep her in place and Y/N inhaled deeply when the first kiss to her inner lips was met. The moan she let out encouraged Beric to continue, his mouth connecting with her womanhood where he kissed and licked every inch of her while she was a withering mess above him.

“Oh, Beric,” her voice cracked, her free hand reaching down to grasp his hair. Beric’s tongue could be felt in between her folds and Y/N had to bite back a scream, squeezing his hand while her hips thrusted against him. His arm went around her waist to keep her down and the moans left her lips like a symphony. It was like music to his ears and he smirked all the while kissing her womanhood with more love and urgency. Soon she felt a knot form in her lower stomach causing her to gasp, but Beric never stopped his actions on her. “Beric, I-I’m close--I.”

Bringing his hand down and resting it on bundle of nerves was enough for Y/N to release, a groan living her lips followed by fast breathing. Sweat gathered on her forehead from the heat her body felt, and she whimpered when Beric gave a few final licks to her to clean up the mess gathered from her orgasm. Once she was cleaned, he rose up from between her legs and connected his mouth to hers. She could taste the remanence of herself on his lips causing her to moan and the desire for him increase.

Pushing him to his back, Y/N ran her hands along his chest while his hands went to rest on her waist as she straddled him. Sitting up, he held her close to him while they continued to kiss and Y/N unlaced the cloak around his neck before moving to undo his armor. He helped her, the kiss breaking so they could remove each piece by piece until he was finally in just his undershirt and trousers. He kept his eye on her when she undid the laces of the shirt to expose his chest and torso, the fabric being discarded and onto the floor. 

His body shivered when her fingers gently glided over his skin, tracing over the many scars starting from his neck down to his abdomen. She placed a kiss over the deep one that surrounded his neck from the time the Lannisters executed him for treason, causing Beric to let out a sigh. She continued to trail her lips on the scar and once she got to the other side of where she started, Y/N pulled away from him and reached up to remove the cloth from his face.

Beric’s hands shot out to stop the woman causing her to frown. “I want to see all of you, Beric,” she whispered. He stayed silent although he appeared to be nervous. The last time Y/N saw him without his eyepatch was the day she met him, and Beric would by lying if he said he didn’t feel anxious about letting her see that ugly side of him.

When he didn’t say anything Y/N grabbed him by his cheeks to pull him into a passionate kiss, one that poured all the love she was feeling to him. He responded back whole heartedly, his arms moving to cradle her bare body against him. Their tongues clashed and Y/N pulled away after a few moments but kept her face close to him. “This is our last night, I want to see all of you.” All Beric could do was nod and watch as the woman brought her hand up and slowly took away the wrapped cloth that shielded his scarred face away from the world.

It was dropped to the floor, Y/N not caring as it fell and she then cupped his face so her thumb could run across the rough skin. Her lips maneuvered over to firmly press them on it and Beric couldn’t stop the lone tear that fell from his eye. His face buried in her neck, the roughness of his beard brushing her skin making her shiver. He sucked on the skin their, moving her hair over her shoulder to get better access while she held onto him and continued to leave kisses on his cheek.

Y/N moaned when he bit softly on her neck before kissing it once more. She knew there would leave a mark, but she didn’t worry at all. In fact, she wanted the mark to last forever, but forever would never come. Her thought were interrupted when she felt his manhood against her though, begging to be released. Drawing back from Beric, Y/N removed herself from his lap to kneel before him all while keeping her eyes on his. She nestled in between his legs and began to untie his trousers causing his heart to speed up.

“Y/N you don’t have to--.”

“I want to,” she stopped him, her face completely serious, “I want to, Beric. Let me pleasure like you did me. We only have tonight, so let us make the most of it. Please.” When he didn’t try to stop her, Y/N went back to untying the material until his cock sprung free. Beric’s breath hitched when she lowered her head and kissed the tip before slowly taking him into her mouth. A hand automatically went to her hair, but he didn’t pull or tug he simple kept a firm hold on her while she sucked. 

Beric let out a groan, eyes closing when she started to bob her head up and down his length, his breathing becoming heavy. Y/N picked up her pace after a few minutes of being slow and Beric moaned, his hips involuntarily thrusting into her mouth which almost made her gag. He mentally cursed himself, trying to stay calm and ruining the moment by finishing before she could prepare herself. The moans got louder, Y/N smiling at the sound. She took him deeper and could feel his fingers tangle in her hair. 

Beric was overwhelmed with pleasure and thanked the Lord of Light for giving him this moment. All those years of being alone and wondering what  it would be like to have the priestess surrender herself to him was finally paying off. It may be their final night in the world, but Beric was grateful he got to experience this moment with her. The woman he loved. 

When he opened his eyes he nearly came right then and there seeing his cock disappeared as she took him into her mouth so easily and willingly. His breath wavered and the sweat began to pool at his forehead. Not wanting to climax in her mouth, Beric gently pulled her from him, “Stop, Y/N.” The woman was confused by his words, but before she could say anything he added, “I want to finish in you.” 

She was speechless, her bottom lip falling to leave a small gap between it and her upper one. The woman allowed Beric to bring her up from her position on the ground, gently guiding her so her back was pressed flat against the bed. After discarding his pants, Beric nestled between her legs and hovered over her. The fire crackling gave the room a reddish-orange glow and the couple basked in the warmth it gave, their bodies on fire.

With their chests pressed together leaving little to no room between them, Beric grabbed Y/N’s hands and held them up beside her head. “I’m sorry if this hurts love.” he whispered to her, nose brushing against her own. The woman could feel him against her core and moved her legs slightly more apart, letting him push closer to her. 

“You could never hurt me, Beric.” With that, the man slowly eased his cock through her folds and Y/N gasped at the feeling. Her eyes briefly shut, and Beric placed a kiss to her the corner of her lips all while continuing to push into her. When he was all the way in, he waited a few seconds so she could adjust to the knew feeling, his lips moving to press kisses to her cheeks. It wasn’t until he felt her move her hips against his, signaling she was ready for him to move that Beric began thrusting into her.

His pace was slow. Gently bringing himself out before going back through her folds which had her whimpering beneath him. She squeezed his hands, hips moving to follow his pace and Y/N let out moan after moan while Beric made love to her. Their lips crashed together, Beric moaning into her mouth when she wrapped her legs around him allowing him to thrust deeper into her. Picking up the pace, Beric released one of her hands and placed his on her thigh to hitch it up higher to his waist. 

Y/N broke from the kiss when he did that. A scream softly leaving her when she felt him hit the spot deep within her that made her feel her second release begin to build. “Beric,” she whispered and the man’s hand soon found its way in between them where her bundle of nerves was. His thumb pressed against, urging her to come again and Beric thrusted harder, her free hand coming up to tangle in his hair. 

“I got you, Y/N” he spoke to her, and Y/N bit onto his shoulder as her second orgasm consumed her, milking his cock which had Beric following soon after her. He groaned, pressing his face into her neck while his thrusts wavered and his cum shot out into her. A few more thrusts followed, easing them both out of their climax and Beric kissed her once more. She leaned into the kiss, releasing his hand from hers so she could hold his face in both of them. Beric slowly removed himself from her and moved to gently rest his weight on her while continuing the kiss. The remanence of their love making pooled between her legs, and Y/N felt herself smile against Beric’s lips which had him smile too.

They pulled away from each other after a few minutes, but stayed close together with Beric moving to lay on his side and bringing the young woman against him. Her head laid on his chest with his fingers running along her back making her sigh in content. 

Coming down from their high, the couple basked in the silence with the only exception being the crackling of the fire. Y/N was grateful the horns hadn’t sounded, and prayed to the Lord they wouldn’t for awhile. She longed for more time with the man beside her. Their fates where already decided and there was nothing more they could do besides wait and enjoy whatever time remained. 

“I love you, Beric,” She whispered after several minutes of quiet. His hand never stopped their movement on her back and his breathing remained the same although Y/N could hear the slight skip of his heart from where head laid. A kiss was pressed to her head and she could feel his smile as he laid it there. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

Beric took her again, and again over the next few hours. Alternating positions where she was a moaning mess on top, or clutching the sheets in her hands while he thrusted behind her. He brought her to her climax every time with him finishing seconds later. Y/N was consumed with pleasure, the desire for him never once seizing as he continued to make love to her and leave the woman wanting more. It was roughly ten minutes after he brought her to her seventh orgasm of the night that the first of the horns was head. 

Neither spoke while they dressed, Y/N moving to help him with his armor after tying her dress together and placing the hooded scarf back over her head. The horns sounded again, and Y/N felt her hands falter with the gear which made Beric slowly take them in his palms. The two stared at each other while movement outside the door indicated those in the castle were preparing for what was to come and Y/N gave the man a smile though her expression was nothing but somber.

“I’ve enjoyed my time with you, Beric Dondarrion,” her voice trembled as her lip began to quiver, heart breaking in two. It would be the last time she saw him alive, and Y/N had to remain strong. They would never get to live out a life they could have had. Marry, have children and grow old to watch them have children. No, but maybe they get to have a life beyond the one they had now and Y/N could only mentally pray to R’hollor he would allow them to meet again in the afterlife. 

With one final look her to encase the last moment of her in his mind, the man reached up to cup her cheek, his now gloved thumb running along the skin. A final kiss to her lips, Beric smiled, “And I have enjoyed mine with you, Y/N of Asshai.”

~~~~

The battle waged on. The chaos could be heard from the doorways and windows Y/N and Melisandre where enclosed in. The two hadn’t seen each other in years, but neither spoke when they had reunited and instead nodded to each other in greeting. They didn’t have to say anything, the look on their faces was enough to speak volume in the silent interaction. 

Y/N was standing by the window, hood over head when noise approaching filled her ears. She turned around just in time to witness the young Stark girl burst through the door being dragged by the large man they called “The Hound.” Her body froze when another figure limped into the frame and fall to the floor. The two rushed to close the door, Arya putting all her strength in to hold it while Sandor barricaded them in. Once they were safe the girl ran to the limp figure on the ground to help them up and Y/N slowly approached them.

She didn’t have to see the other side of his face to know it was Beric, the attire he was wearing was enough to indicate. Arya snapped her head to her at the sound of the footsteps. Her eyes narrowed, recognizing the woman but she remained silent when Y/N got closer until she knelled beside Beric. Arya watched as the woman brought her hand to his cheek, and he leaned into it, head falling to the side so he could see her one last time. 

No words were spoken as Beric took his last breaths, willing his eye to stay open just so his final vision in the world was of the beautiful priestess who captured his heart. Y/N smiled softly at him, his own coming to rest on his face and she mouthed the words “I love you.” It was in that moment his movements halted, the final exhale leaving his lips and face becoming blank. The room grew silent, and Y/N gently brought her other hand up to close his eye and leaned her head down to kiss his forehead. 

“The Lord brought him back for a purpose,” she spoke when she pulled away, her tone never shaking. Her face became stoic and she met the eyes of the bloodied girl next to her, “Now that purpose has been served.” Raising herself Y/N moved to stand beside Melisandre, who Arya was now made aware was in the room with them.

“I know you,” the words left her lips while her eyes remained on Melisandre’s. The older priestess moved forward, staring back at the girl who remained beside Beric’s body. “And I know you.”

Arya stood and walked until she was directly in front of the red woman. Y/N moved so she was behind the Stark girl and could feel the Hounds eyes watching them closely. 

“You said we’d meet again.” 

“And here we are, at the end of the world.”

“You said I would shut many eyes forever,” Arya repeated the words the Witch told her years before, “you were right about that too.”

“Brown eyes...Green eyes,” Melisandre went off, and paused briefly and connected her eyes with Y/N’s.

“And blue eyes,” her voice spoke from behind causing Arya turn around slowly as if the wind had been knocked out of her. The two held eye contact as the sounds of the wright approaching got louder, and Y/N couldn’t help the smirk on her lips when she nodded to the girl who had finally pieced together what they were telling her. 

The slamming of the door down the hall caused Arya to turn her attention to the barricaded one in front of her. It soon rattled and Sandor clutched his ax, moving so he was behind Arya while Y/N and Melisandre paced forward so they were directly beside her. The sounds got louder and Y/N found herself leaning forward to Arya, all while keeping her eyes on the rattling door ahead.

“What do we say to the God of Death?”

“Not today.”

~~~~

The dead fell as the Night King crumbled. The battle of Ice and Fire coming to end. Y/N’s feet dragged her through the courtyard of Winterfell, bodies all around her with many she could recognize. Her breathing became heavy although her face remained blank. The wind ran though her hair and Y/N could see Melisandre leaving the castle where she passed Ser Davos. A slight light filled the sky and Y/N eyes turned up to see the clouded darkness become lighter with each passing second. Melisandre was already gone and soon she would be too. 

Her feet carried her to the middle of the courtyard where Jon Snow stood. She didn’t even look at him when she passed, even when he called out her name.

“Y/N.” There was no answer from her. All he could do was watch while she walked away, her eyes trained ahead. Her movement faltered as the energy that flowed within started to drain and she could hear Jon’s muffled voice call for her again when she nearly fell. Again she said nothing, and this time Jon started to follow her which only made her move faster as her body allowed her. 

It was just before she could reach the gates of Winterfell that Y/N could no longer keep herself up. Her knees buckled, Jon watching as the woman tumbled and fall to the ground.

“Y/N!” he shouted and his legs moved in a sprint. His voice had alarmed several nearby which included Sandor, Gendry and Tormund. All who had not seen her since EastWatch when they went north of the Wall and she went to Winterfell to wait for them. They gathered around when Jon knelt to the ground and took the woman in his arms. His face turned to shock when he moved her body so he could see her face.

The once warm and lively skin the priestess possessed was now cold and pale. Her prominent cheekbones she had appeared more hollow and her eyes were closed with her eyelids remaining stagnant, not responding at all to her being moved and adjusted in the mans arms. It was when the men around gazed down to her amulet that they realized what happened to the young priestess. 

The amber they knew had been glowing prior to the battle was now dull. Her skin was becoming more pale and her breathing had stopped. Jon brought his gloved hand up to her neck, removing the steel necklace and letting it drop to the dirt. He then placed his two fingers where pulse would have been and dropped his head when he felt nothing. Y/N was a peace.

“She’s gone,” he spoke through the silence. Tormund felt his eyes gloss over for in the short amount of time he knew the young woman, she was nothing but kind to him. Even if he spoke ill will of her God or jokingly called her a fanatic, she was not someone who snapped or insulted him. The free folk giant felt sadness consume him that her short life ended, and there was nothing he could do to save her. Gendry had always held resentment for Y/N, after all she didn’t stop Melisandre from taking him all those years ago, but in this moment all anger subsided and the young man dropped his head in remorse.

“Her Lord called her home,” a voice said causing them all to look up. Ser Davos was standing roughly 5 paces away from them, his vision focused on the priestess in Jon’s arms. The older man slowly approached while his mind replayed the moments he spent with her during their time with Stannis. She always gave him a smile that would light the room. While Melisandre was always glued to Stannis’ side and got him to let her do her bidding, Y/N would voice when she felt things were being unreasonable and Davos appreciated it when she did. He never really got to say goodbye to her when she left for Winterfell, the priestess was not one for emotions and liked to keep things simple. All Davos could feel was regret he didn’t get that chance and his eyes began to water. He kept the tears at bay, “She served her purpose for Him, and it was time for her to return home.”

 Another silence overtook the group, the snow beginning to fall from the sky as the Long Night came to an end. Before long they would have to gather all of the fallen and say their final goodbyes. “Burn her next to Beric,” Sandor’s gruff voice cut through the silence, his tone sounding like defeat although they had just won the battle. He gave one last look to Y/N,  “They were made for each other, they deserve to be sent off together.” The large man turned on his heel and left the group, not wanting them to see his vulnerability at loosing another friend. He hated it whenever Thoros and Beric preached about the Lord of Light and even when Y/N would talk about Him he would roll his eyes. It took weeks after he joined the Brotherhood Sandor noticed himself enjoying their conversations. She never made him feel awful for the things he did, and wasn’t afraid to look at him despite his scars. It surprised him the day she joked, “If I can look at Beric and Thoros all day with no problem, why shouldn’t I look at you. Have you seen them?” He could still remember the offended looks the two men gave her which was enough to actually make Sandor laugh. 

Sandor grew to care for her, much like everyone in the Brotherhood did and he was always aware of the feelings she and Beric had for one another. It annoyed him to no ends whenever he caught them giving lingering stares, even saying to Beric one night by the fire when she left for bed, “How about you quit eye fucking her ever minute and actual fuck her since you want to so bad.” Again the Hound found himself rolling his eyes when Beric went off about how the Lord of Light gave her a purpose, and how it was not with him. 

Beric was dead now, and so was Y/N. Sandor could only mentally scoff now by the facts of that thinking how now they will be together in the afterlife. All he could do now is wait till his time comes and be at peace. 

When the pyres were built the next morning and the dead laid waiting, Sandor gave a final hand squeeze to the young priestess, who laid beside Beric looking utterly peaceful. Glancing at the man and woman, Sandor took each of their hands and enclosed them together before leaving the two to stand with the others who had said their goodbyes to the fallen. 

It was Arya who took the torch that set fire to the pyre they laid on. Two people who were once on her list who ended up being the reason she were alive to see the next day. The girl held a frown while the sadness made its way through her. Arya would never get the chance to thank them for their sacrifice to her, so she closed her eyes and mentally said a few words to send them off before opening. Placing the torch beneath them, Arya stood back as the fire spread eventually consuming the couple and everyone that laid.

The flames that led them to each other, now devoured a young red priestess from Asshai and one eyed warrior from Blackhaven. Sending them off as the Lord of Light called them home. 

[oh-boy-me]

Casual Outfits Discussed

@themarchinghare Ok >:3c

These hot takes analyses and opinions are based entirely on the concept art of the demon brothers’ casual outfits.  So any in-game features not present in the concept art aren’t discussed.  We’re looking at the outfit as a whole, but occasionally we do talk about individual features.

Also please don’t take this seriously, we just had a lot of fun shitting on the Seven Power Avatars of Sin, Rulers of Hell Itself™’s questionable fashion sense.  I would still die for these boys, terrible taste in shoes or not.

Participants in the discussion were

Jo ( @jodaneko ), my roommate and an art major with storyboarding and character design experience

Justin ( @justinlester0629​ ), my go-to fashion expert for at least a decade and very possibly a future male model

Noodle (Me), untrained eye and resident fashion decade disregarder

With the exception of a few choice quotes, our thoughts and conclusions are all mixed in with each other.  Quotes are mildly paraphrased.

Lucifer:

The colors are good; the blacks and grays are all in the blue-gray family, and there’s a pop of color with the gold belt and red vest.

But he paired a black suit with brown shoes????  SIN

“You should always match your belt with your shoes and those shoes are not gold.” —Justin

Justin on the coat: “I love it, the pattern of the inner lining is throwing me off but it’s not bad, and the fur is perfect because it’s associated with power.”

Me on the coat: “I don’t know about you but I bet that coat looks dumb as shit if you put your sleeves through it.”

WITHOUT the coat though his cuffs scream “I am dealing for blackjack and rolling craps.”  Lucifer looks like he could walk into and out of a casino whenever he pleases and everyone would assume he works there.

“Dress shirts don’t work like that.  He got a size too big.” —Jo

The belt isn’t doing anything functionally, but it’s very important because it balances things out from being too top-heavy.

Out of the belt, shirt cuffs, and coat cuffs, two of them should have matched.

We’re nitpicking because in general it’s a good design.  Lucifer has no taste in shoes but that aside is capable of dressing himself.

Mammon:

“That’s western Danny Phantom if I’ve ever seen it.” —Justin

Very nice coat 10/10 would wear.

The colors are odd, he mixes black and brown too, but the other colors mixed in makes it work in a cute way.

“The only things that clash are the shirt and jeans, he could replace the gray shirt with either a black one or a lighter one to match the boots.” —Justin

He’s got a cat toy on his belt.  I admire his preparedness for feline encounters.

The cat toy also balances out his rings nicely, since the toy is on his left hip and the rings are on his right hand.

The yellows in the shades, belt, and cat toy are placed very nicely and are the best part of the outfit.

Honestly except for the shirt color and the fact that fur-lined boots are out of style we don’t have much bad to say about his design.  Mammon’s casual outfit lives up to his model career.

Leviathan:

“Ugh, god.” —Justin

The headphones don’t match with anything, and ever color he’s wearing is so bright they REALLY don’t match.

Headphones aside he chose ok colors to supersaturate, but also like, supersaturation is very very loud.

It kind of looks like he bought two different tracksuits and forgot they were two different outfits.

The pants don’t match themselves.

“He color coordinated his pant cuffs and his shirt and thinks it makes it ok.” —Jo

The jacket itself is nice, the pins are really good and I appreciate that they’re opposite the stripes in his shirt.

Justin hates the gray stripe though because it looks like either part of the jacket or a girl scout sash.

“That shirt should not be collared.” —Jo

“The shoes look like what Kanye West would design but if they were sold on Wish.” —Justin

It’s kind of just… he took the RGB color wheel and went with it.  It’s just loud.  If he just changed some colors he’d be fine.  Leviathan please I have hope for you.

Satan:

“He looks like a gay prep school person.” —Justin

Satan wore 100 shades of green and said “yes this is peak fashion.”  And you know what, it objectively sucks but I’m kind of living for it?

Rip off jeans that can’t actually be ripped off because of the VERY stylish belt?  Iconic.

Green deep v-neck sweater over a gradient t-shirt and a jacket with the sleeves too short, this man only shops at Goodwill.

The one-shoulder jacket look gives the outfit some personality and I’m really glad he isn’t wearing it properly because looking at it alone I wouldn’t be caught dead in that jacket.

“While good for the design, it’s a mix between business and athletic and I’m not sure how I feel about that.” —Jo

(Jo also said some jackets are designed with sleeves like that but with the color choices it’s just… not good.  Justin pointed out that the sweater and jacket do match though.)

The chocolate loafer-style shoes take away from the rest of the outfit.

“Any other shade of green besides Crayola green would have been better for his nails.” —Justin

Listen it’s so bad it’s good, Satan’s fashion sense is “blue-green.”  We basically ripped into it the whole time but I’m pretty sure it was the universal favorite.

Asmodeus:

“Just from the back he looks like a cool dude and then the front of him screams douche.” —Jo

Asmo’s outfit is actually ok, but he has one fatal flaw: If he takes off his jacket it’s way too plain, but with the jacket it’s kind of too much.

It’s also kind of confusing, because it looks both casual and formal from different angles.  “I’m not sure I like the cut in the front with the t-shirt showing underneath.” —Justin

The shirt is nice but a color that contrasted his skin more would have been nice.

The pants are killer, and the white stitching matches the jacket really well.

The gold accents on the jacket are also good and would match the belt really nicely if the belt wasn’t some ugly mustard color.

This boy is wearing mustard belt and ketchup pants.

Inoffensive shoes which is really the best I can ask for with these boys.

“The scarf.  I like it, but I’m not sure how I feel about it because there’s just so much going on with both it and the jacket.” —Justin

“That’s not a scarf, it’s too long.  It’s like.  A really long strip of cloth.” —Jo

Anyway all in all there’s a little much going on in the front but it’s one of the better looks, good job Asmo.

Beelzebub:

Justin looked at the picture and immediately put his phone down.

“First impression is he looks like Naruto if he got his head lodged in Doritos.” —Justin

“He looks like he’s the carpet of the arcade portion of a skating rink.” —Jo

“He shouldn’t be wearing orange tones.” —Justin

Legitimately we were at a loss for words for a considerable time.  We just kept staring at it.

To start he’s got a lot going on but it feels like he looked in the mirror before leaving his room.  Not saying he did the best job but at least he looked at himself.

The jacket alone is great, but why is it fur-lined?  It throws off the urban design.

But finally some good fucking shirt.  We have mixed opinions on the triangles (I like them, Justin doesn’t but appreciates that the pattern continues on the back) but all like the cut.

Living for the necklace-bracelet combo.

Jo says the biggest problem is that there’s color-matching but in weird places and not enough of it.

Jo hates the pink belt and Justin hates the green suspenders; we concluded that one of them should have been excluded.

His choice in sneakers is not as bad as Levi’s but still not very good.  The laces shouldn’t be green.

This sounds like a lot of complaining but if he cleaned up the belts and ditched the fur it’d be a fine look.

Belphegor:

“Oh shit oh god.” —Justin

“The top half is for sleeping and the bottom half is for riding.” —Jo

Absolutely disgusting, mustard yellow pants tucked into brown lace-up combat boots?  Disgusting.

The shoes alone are nice but the mustard pants don’t work at all.  There’s no cutoff between blue and mustard.

Also he has really broad shoulders, just noticed that looking at this.  That has nothing to do with this but it does affect how his cardigan sits on him.

I personally would wear that cardigan, a hooded cardigan?  Everything I’ve ever wanted.

Justin pointed out that the button lining is weird, and the inside is a weird contrast with the pocket.  He’s right, but I think it’s an endearing mess.

Why do I look at him and feel like he needs to do laundry?  I think it’s the t-shirt.  It would have been better as a collared shirt, taking the hood off the cardigan in return.

You can’t convince me the avatar of sloth laces those boots every day, he sleeps with his shoes on and that’s a worse sin than sloth.

“The pillow’s not part of the outfit?  Oh thank god.” —Justin

Jo said we were being too mean and that it’s not the worst outfit out there, and from the waist up they’re right.

But damn Belphegor the condiment war called and they want the bottom half of their uniform back.

[mercuryonparklane]

I seriously debated keeping this one in the drafts...

Okay, I felt compelled to analyze the timeline of all of Taylor’s rumored/alleged boyfriends (barring any that she supposedly dated pre-fame) and why I believe they could have been fake/pr setups...

Disclaimer: this is all speculative and is just my opinion. No one has to agree... we don’t all have to agree because really the only people who know the truth are Taylor and those she has shared it with. I do have a very skeptical view of the entertainment industry and pr, so that is a bias I will own up to. I especially think Taylor, for a very long time, was willing to play along with the pr side of things, but eventually reached a breaking point (as any normal human under that amount of pressure and scrutiny likely would). Whether that means she has faked all of her public relationships or some of them or just aspects of them... I can’t really, truly know that. So, just keep in mind that this is one little, insignificant person’s view of Taylor’s public relationships and that I do not personally know any of the people involved...

Don’t take this too seriously, peeps... I’ll even tag it as crack theory...

Joe J.: June/July-September/October 2008

If nothing else this feels like a typical pr setup of two young stars. He had Camp Rock, a Jonas Bros’ album and a tour and concert film to promote. Camp Rock came out on 6/20/2008. The Jonas Bros’ third album, A Little Bit Longer, was released on 8/12/2008. In August, Taylor joined the band on stage during the filming for a concert movie that would be released in February 2009. 

Taylor had an album that was released just weeks after their alleged breakup. An album which contained a few songs that would be attributed to Joe J. due to the publicity surrounding their relationship. Hmm... what a great way to drum up interest in an album that includes quite a few heartbreak songs. Not saying I know that is the case, but they both had a lot to promote between June and November 2008.

Lucas T.: March-April/May 2009

He was in the Hannah Montana movie, which was released 4/10/2009. Taylor had a cameo in that movie and also wrote a song for the soundtrack. Lucas also played Taylor’s love interest in the mv for YBWM, which premiered 5/2/2009 on CMT. He was in one of her Myspace vlogs in April 2009. IMO, this was a setup to promote the Hannah Montana movie and the YBWM mv, but it didn’t really take off. Lucas later said they dated briefly, but he realized that he just saw her as a friend...

Taylor L.: August-December 2009

 They played a couple in Valentine’s Day. In September, just days after the VMAs where KW interrupted Taylor on stage as Taylor L. stood a few feet away, Taylor went to an Owl City concert at the Bowery Ballroom where she met the man who would supposedly inspire “Enchanted”. Umm... “please don’t be in love with someone else”... even though I am currently dating Taylor L. and he is my forever crush, but like, I am totally crushing on you actually. I have no clue if any Swifties have ever picked up on that discrepancy.  

Oh, and Taylor L. also “dated” Selena in early 2009 and I doubt Taylor would go there, even if they ended on good terms. I mean, it’s possible, but idk it seems unlikely to me. 

John M.: December 2009-February 2010

I think Taylor admired him as a musician (this seems to have been mutual with John praising her talent multiple times) and she may have seen him as a mentor at first. I do not believe that anything happened between them beyond that. I think he was so thrown off by “Dear John” because of that. He was already tweeting in the spring of 2009, hinting at wanting to collaborate with Taylor. The album their duet was on came out in November 2009, right before they started “dating”. Although it wasn’t released as a single until June 2010.

Besides, Liz (friend or otherwise) has remained a fan of John and even went to his concert a few years back. So, either she didn’t care that he screwed one of her supposed good friends over or it didn’t go down how people were led to believe it did.

Jake G.: October 2010-December/January 2011

Unless this relationship started much earlier than everyone has been led to believe, it is very unlikely that ATW is about him. It certainly seems to have been written prior to the maple latte/scarf/sister’s house articles that were abundant after that pap walk. Either Taylor used him as a scapegoat for a song that wasn’t about him or he was a willing participant in a pr scheme to make sure people thought the song was about him. 

He couldn’t have been setup with his costar, Anne H., because she was already in a long term, committed relationship. At the time Taylor was still good pr since she was still known as a kind of girl next door, all American type with genuine talent. 

I’m not saying I know for a fact it was fake. I’m saying there are plenty of reasons why I think it was. Everyone has different perspectives... mine is that this was purely a pr setup.

Will A.: sometime in 2010 and/or mid or fall 2011-January 2012 or May (?) 2012

They were likely just friends, but people did think they were dating back then. The songs that people think he wrote about Taylor (”White Dress” and “Kiss Me Slowly”) were recorded in 2010. So, if she started dating him in September 2011, which people think because the dress she wore to his May 2012 birthday party was the one she is wearing on the “Begin Again” cover art, then those songs aren’t about her. About the party dress...  Sarah B., who took the picture, was also friends with the Parchute guys, so maybe the photoshoot that the picture on that cover art came from happened earlier that day. 

He was friends with Liz’s ex Jason and one of his best friends is still to this day very close friends with Liz, so that’s probably how he met Taylor. I think Taylor hung out with that crew a bit back then. AND those times Will and Taylor were seen hanging out in late fall/early winter 2011, Jason and/or the other friend were there. Yes, I am saying that Taylor was hanging out with Jason in November/December 2011, just a few months after he and Liz supposedly broke up. She was also still hanging out with Liz a lot at that time and after, though, so I think it was all good.

Conor K.: July 2012-September/October 2012

This was Taylor’s worst pr. If it was a real relationship... it is borderline predatory. If it is fake... still a big yikes... I don’t have much to say about this one. I think it was fake and an attempt at making him the muse for “Starlight” (how cute, this song she wrote about his grandparents sort of became about them), “Begin Again” (nevermind that the copyright record say the song was written in 2011), and EHC (nevermind that the song was written in May 2012). It would have been great pr, though, if he was a couple years older. Taylor should have fired Paula after this one... (because the public should have never known about it, real or fake).

Harry S.: November 2012-January 2013

Similar to all the others before (and after), there were “random” sightings, including a birthday trip to “the lakes” and blatant pr (go on and wear that fox sweater and paper airplane necklace, Taylor...). That NYE kiss, though...

Calvin: February 2015-May/June 2016

Taylor finally dropped her old publicist and brought on Tree. First step, was to erase the “boy crazy”/“man eater” label (and possibly the “professional beard” label) and become an independent woman who just wants to have fun with her gal pals. It got a bit gayer than expected (whether Kaylor was really a thing to some degree or not is irrelevant to the point). The gay rumors were actually catching on even faster and people were like “oh, that’s why she couldn’t keep a man” (sexist/homophobic as all of this is/was, ofc). 

Enter Calvin... a playboy DJ who some might deem “tall and handsome as hell” (peeps, I am not really the best judge of a man’s attractiveness, so this is just how I think people see him). He seems sooo straight. I don’t know how else to say it. All of her other supposed boyfriends had gay rumors, whether or not those rumors were just people gossiping or had some basis in reality... I think he is the only one that doesn’t have them, that I know of anyway. 

I know a lot of people think they were really together, but I think this was an attempt to have her in a more serious, long term relationship to counteract both the gay rumors (not necessarily as a cover for a woman because I don’t think all of the guys have been or need to have been covers for a secret relationship with a woman, it’s about appearing straight) and the “can’t keep a man” narrative that had followed her around. Even if they were in some sort of situationship (not what I think, just theorizing here), it wouldn’t have been a steady thing and they seemed to not like each other very much when all was said and done.

I still laugh that he said Taylor was the opposite of his type (and specified that he likes brunettes) in November 2014 and then he allegedly dated her for almost a year and a half, starting literally a few months after he made that comment. If that was a real relationship, he was either playing it cool when he said that or he misjudged her or Taylor was determined to date him because it was a challenge.

Either way, it seems like her team controlled the public narrative and maybe Calvin was okay with that at first, but over time it seemed like he wasn’t a big fan of that. Maybe that visit to the strip mall massage parlor was a bit of a rebellion... 

At least they both got some royalties out of it...

Joe A.: September 2016-Present

Taylor’s team absolutely has control of the public narrative and he seems okay with that. He is a literal mirrorball. He is whatever Taylor supposedly says he is in her songs/whatever Swifties want him to be.

He likes to drop fun facts like how his family jumps into a freezing pond at Christmas or that he worked at a yogurt shop as a teenager. Whether they are real or not... he seems to be playing into the pr. Dropping little bits of information that will tie him to her songs... it is very “maple latte”/“paper airplane necklace”/dark jeans and Nikes... OR Taylor is just taking the few facts people know about him and using it to pin songs on him.

If he is a beard (which imo he likely is), I think he gets along with Taylor and doesn’t mind the minimal pr of it all.

I don’t think he is WB, either way...

Again this is just my view of things. This has no bearing on which women Taylor may have dated. I could do a separate post on what I think that timeline might look like.

One point I will reiterate is that I do not think that a beard would always be a cover for a secret relationship with a woman. I think it sometimes is, but it can be more of a general cover for someone who is gay. So many people think Taylor is the straightest person who has ever lived simply because of her public dating record. I mean, heteronormativity and homophobia also play a big part in that...

Edit: I completely skipped Tom lol. I just don’t buy that one either. Maybe he thought it would be good publicity or maybe he was led on to think it was more real than it was or maybe he was just having fun. Idk. All kinds of articles written about them at the time included some caveat about how they seemed fake or were maybe filming something...

[littlemisslol-fic]

Summary: Twelve years ago, the Kingdom of Corona fell after the demon Zhan Tiri infected the minds of its people. The only survivor was Princess Rapunzel..

.Or so they thought.

An amnesiac orphan named Varian, struck by the need to branch out on his own, follows a mysterious necklace towards what he knows must be his missing family. On the way he scoops up three companions: a young ex-noble named Nuru, a fiery boy called Yong, and, to top it off, a handsome rogue named Hugo. Together they travel for Vardaros, unaware of the demons dogging Varian's heels.

Zhan Tiri, after all, isn't finished with her revenge.

Notes: Hey all! Gunna preface by saying that is is a present for my beautiful friend jjgg_art for her birthday! Hope it was a good one, babe ❤️❤️This is her Anastasia AU, written out! She drew art for it a while ago and it lived rent-free in my brain, so here it is!

(Be warned though, she’s LONG)

 They say that good things were never meant to last.

 The kingdom of Corona, in the peak of its life, was beautiful. It was the city of light, a towering monolith of white marble and shining gold. Its spires raised high into the always-blue skies, like white crests on perfect waves. It was a city of golden wonders, of joy and love and contentment unknown through the Seven before.

 But it was never meant to go on forever.

 Like gold eventually tarnishes, or limestone wears away with the pounding surf, Corona eventually fell. The royal family, led by King Frederic and his wife, Queen Arianna, had grown compliant. Weak. Beneath the shining veneer, Corona was beginning to crack.

 And into the cracks, slipped the darkness.

 It was said that Zhan Tiri herself had seen the prosperity of Corona, had seen the glittering spires and sunny skies, and had grown jealous of the city. In turn, she sent down an army led by her three disciples, to rage through the city without mercy. They targeted many, but above all the royal family had been the ones most as risk.

 It happened on a cold winter’s night, one where the Coronian royals were hosting a Ball to celebrate the end of another year. The crown princess Rapunzel, only twelve at the time, had been the light of the party, dancing through the crowds with an ease that seemed almost natural. She weaved through the crowd, her brunette hair bobbing softly with the motions. The princess hummed to herself, scanning the crowd with a curious eye. The adults around her danced with perfect timing, even as she scooted past them in a flurry of purple fabric. Green eyes widened when she caught sight of a familiar head of black hair, nearly swallowed up by the crowds.

 A small bag of velvet was in her hands. Her grip tightened on it, her smile widening as she beelined towards the other end of the ballroom. Her quarry was hiding near a large pillar of white marble, his blue eyes wide as he looked at all the people.

 “Varden!” She cooed, startling the child in front of her. He couldn’t have been older than six, the boy still almost a toddler with how much baby fat was still in his cheeks. The boy caught sight of her, his baby face breaking out into a wide smile that scrunched his cheeks and eyes.

 “Hi ‘Punzie!” He said, holding his arms out. Rapunzel smiled, hugging him tightly. When the split, the black haired boy looked around the ballroom with a nervous face. “Have you seen my daddy?” He asked, “I can’t find him…”

 “I’m sure he’s around,” Rapunzel soothed, “Besides, I have something for you!”

 The boy’s blue eyes went wide, his worry immediately forgotten. “For me?!” he gasped. Rapunzel nodded, handing him the velvet bag with a grin.

 “I know you’re sad about my family and I going on that trip to Vardaros,” she said, trying to ignore how his little face fell at the reminder, “So, I thought this might help with the wait!”

 He opened the gift with small hands, looking curiously as a small box fell out as he tipped the bag into his waiting palm. Rapunzel took his hand, holding up a small pendant in the shape of the Corona Sun.

 “See, watch,” She cooed to him, inserting the small key into a slot on the side. She turned it with three gentle movements, watching the boy’s face as it lit up with delight. As Rapunzel removed the pendant from the music box it opened, playing a little tune. Varden gasped as a little automation within began to move, slowly miming out fighting invisible enemies. Rapunzel smiled as he watched the little dance, holding the music box close. She hummed along to the tune the music box played, slowly coaxing him into singing along with her.

 “Soon you'll be, home with me,” She sang to the tune. Varden’s voice floating along with hers, “Once upon a December,”

 “Wow, Punzie!” He said softly, “It’s our lullaby!”

 She smiled as the box finished its song, the little lid closing tightly. She passed him the necklace, smiling as he put it on “Exactly,” she said, hugging him tightly as he leaned into her side. “So you’ll never forget how much I love you, even when we’re apart.”

 The boy’s face split into a massive grin, small hands hugging the box close. “Thank you!” He chirped, “Thank you so much!”

 Rapunzel went to say something else, but was cut off by a sudden, loud scream. Both her and Varden startled at the loud noise, turning towards the door. Both of them gasped at the sight of the doors slamming open, the hallways beyond consumed in flames. People from the town swarmed inside, holding weapons high as they flooded the ballroom. The guests screamed, backing away as the mob attacked, quickly overwhelming anyone in their way.

 Rapunzel shrieked, covering Varden’s eyes at the first sign of blood.

 Things happened quickly after that, the princess running from the room with her little brother in tow as chaos broke. Varden yelped as he was pulled along, barely keeping up on his short legs. Rapunzel did her best to weave around panicking people, ducking in between legs as people scattered. The fire quickly burned through the halls, filling them with smoke.

 Rapunzel coughed into her free hand, still tugging her brother along. Varden followed without complaint, the boy gripping her hand tight. They both stopped when there was a loud gunshot from nearby, followed by a loud scream from up ahead. Rapunzel skid to a stop, Varden nearly tumbling into her as she frantically searched for a way out. The noise behind them grew louder and louder, angry shouting and screams filling the halls behind them. She frantically looked back and forth, unable to decide which way would be better- the smoke was getting thick, a cloying, irritating thing. She could feel the panic creeping in, moving higher in her throat. She didn’t know what to do.

 “Over here!” A voice called, cutting through the shouting.

 Rapunzel spun on her heel, coming face to face with a young boy, maybe about Varden’s age, peeking out of one of the servant’s hidden entrances in the wall. She gasped in relief as he waved them forwards, disappearing into the wall. She followed, panting for breath as the boy closed the hidden door, sealing them away.

 “C’mon,” the blond boy said, urging them forwards, into the darkness of the secret hallways. “They’re attacking the royalty, you guys have to go!”

  Rapunzel tugged her brother behind her, following the servant boy through the labyrinth within the palace. Her heart raced, the princess cringing as she heard screaming and sobbing coming from the other side of the walls. Smoke still filled the air, though less so. Varden sobbed behind her, sniffling as he followed her with his hand in hers. The music box was between the two of them, held in both their hands.

 Eventually the servant boy led them to an exit to the courtyard, where Rapunzel could see a hot air balloon waiting. Her Aunt Willow was already there, sneaking around. The blond boy waved them away, closing the door behind them once they left the safety of the walls. Rapunzel cringed at the cold, but rushed forward, tugging her brother behind her.

 “Aunt Willow!” She cried. The woman turned, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of them.

 “Children!” The brunette woman cried, “Come on, quickly!”

 Rapunzel ran, reaching the basket and jumping in. Varden tried to follow, but he was too short to easily jump the basket. Rapunzel reached for him, tossing the music box into the basket so she could use both hands, but the princess screamed as a loud bang rattled the courtyard. The balloon shuddered, suddenly lifting off.

 “Wait!” Rapunzel screamed, “Wait, he’s not in yet!”

 Willow was scrambling, trying to catch their cut lines. Rapunzel tried fruitlessly to tug her brother up into the basket, shouting at the exertion. She saw a flash of fuchsia light, the princess gasping as her brother was tugged from her arms, as if grabbed by a force. The boy screamed as he fell, plummeting down to the cobblestone meters below. He vanished into the smoke, going deathly silent.  Rapunzel wailed, unable to tear her eyes away from where he’d disappeared.

 “NO!” She screamed, tears overflowing. The balloon continued to rise, pulling away from the castle properly until they’d left it behind. Rapunzel felt herself be pulled into a hug by Willow, the woman trying to comfort her between her own sobs. The boy was not the only casualty that night, but his was the one that would haunt her. Rapunzel shuddered.

 She held onto the music box in a clawed grip, her tears falling soundlessly onto the porcelain.

 >>>><<<<

 Twelve Years Later

 The cold hit Varian like a slap the second he opened the door.

 With a shudder he pulled his too-large coat closer, trying to sink into the thick layers he’d wrapped himself in. The cold of winter was never easy, but apparently the last decade had been near brutal with the freezing temperatures.

 Varian sighed as he felt a tug at his scarf, the thin fabric nearly choking him as the head of the orphanage yanked on it. He followed the cranky old woman out of the building, his feet quickly sinking into the thick snow.

 “Now, I’ve gotten you a place at a fish cannery, near the port.” Old Lady Crowley was grumbling. Varian went quietly as he was pulled along by the scarf, the other end caught in her iron grip. She kept pulling, guiding the teenager towards the large, wrought iron gate at the side of the property. “You’ll take the left path, do you understand me?”

 “Of course I understand, Ol- Miss Crowley.” Varian said with a roll of his eyes. “Left at the fork, straight until the cannery.” His hand slowly found itself up near the center of his chest, fiddling with a small pendant hanging around his neck. He smiled slightly, unable to help himself as he joked: “I’m an amnesiac, not stupid.”

 “Same thing.” The woman grumbled, unlocking the gate. “And stop fiddling with that stupid thing, it’s just a cheap trinket.”

 Varian pouted at her. “Even if it is, it’s all I have-”

 “From before you arrived here, you’ve told from here to the capital about it.”

 The gate opened with a creak, loud and squealing. Varian flinched at the noise, but straightened when the woman turned to shoo him along.

 “Go on, boy,” Crowley snapped, “You’re going to be late!”

 Varian smiled politely, trying to ignore how she muttered idiot child as he walked past her. The second he was outside the gate, Crowley slammed it shut with a loud bang. Varian spun on his heel, seeing her already leaving towards the orphanage without another word.

 “Goodbye, then,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “See you around, I guess.”

 Varian started forward down the street, grumbling to himself. The snow was thicker outside the orphanage property, coating the ground by nearly two feet. He grunted as he slowly kicked his way through the thick snow, a hand reaching up to grab at his necklace. The metal of the pendant was cold to the touch, a small sun with strange little teeth circling the outside. Varian chanced a look down to it, and saw the little words Together in Vardaros lovingly engraved on the center circle. A soft smile took over his face as the gold glinted in the sun, reflecting brightly.

 “I’ll find you,” he murmured, barely even thinking about what he was saying. “I swear it.”

 When he chanced a look up, he found he was already at the fork in the path. A sign stood tall, pointing in two directions. To the capital, on the right, or to the port, on the left.

 “Left at the fork.” Varian whispered. “And then straight on until I hit the cannery, but… hm.”

 His fingers continued to fiddle with his pendant, blue eyes staring up at the sign in thought. He had enough funds for a train ticket, he knew he did- he’d been saving for months just in case. Varian should go left, he knew- should follow Crowley’s orders like a good little wage slave and sign his life away to a life of packing fish- but something in him screamed at the thought.

 “Left to a stable, agonizing job,” he thought out loud, “Or right, to spending every coin I have on a hunch.”

 On paper, they both sounded terrible.

 Varian fiddled with his pendant again, biting at his lip. A brisk wind blew from behind, making him shudder. “Maybe I should wait for a sign.” He laughed to himself, kicking at the snow. A puff of it got close to the base of the sign. Varian startled as a plume of snow suddenly began to wiggle, a chittering noise coming from the lump.

 The teenager laughed harder as a small, fluffy face popped up from inside the snowdrift. “A raccoon?” He asked himself, “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now, bud? It’s the middle of winter.”

 The raccoon made another little noise, rolling out from under the sign. Varian bent down, reaching out a hand to pet the animal. The raccoon waddled up to him, briefly sniffing his fingers before pushing into the outstretched hand. Varian grinned as he scratched the raccoon behind his ears. The animal purred, content, before suddenly reaching one of his little hands forward and grabbing at Varian’s scarf.

 “Hey!” The teenager cried as the raccoon began to run down the right path, the blue scarf tightly gripped in its teeth. “That’s mine, you little jerk!”

 He stood up, stomping his foot. The ring-tailed thief chittered a laugh at him, still holding the scarf. The teenager huffed, crossing his arms.

 “Will you give that back?” Varian demanded, “I’m waiting for my stupid…”

 He cut himself off, blue eyes flicking from the raccoon to the sign in front of him, and back to the raccoon.

 “…sign.” He breathed. His eyes went wide, looking up to focus on the path to the city. For a second the breath caught in his throat, something in him shocked.

 “Am I crazy?” He asked the raccoon, who only cocked his little head. “Yeah. That’s what I thought too.” He sighed, rubbing at his arms with freezing hands. His gaze fell to the snow, a blanket of white covering his boots. “Together in Vardaros.” He murmured, gaze rising back to look towards the towering spires of what used to be Corona.

 And just like that, he took the first step.

 Once he got started, walking down the path was nearly easy. Soon enough he had left the farmland, the tall trees and rolling, snowy fields quickly replaced by dull, drab buildings and cracked cobblestone. Varian shuddered at the glares a few of the city folk shot him, tugging his coat closer around himself. The raccoon had managed to crawl up onto his shoulders at some point, offering himself as a scarf.

 “Well… Ruddiger,” Varian said, testing out the name and deciding it stuck. “If you were a train station, where would you be?”

 The critter only cooed, playing with the blue stripe in Varian’s hair. The boy laughed gently swatting at his new pet. “Thanks for the help, buddy.” He griped, wandering further into the desolate town. Ever since the royal family had fled, Varian knew, the capital city had been borderline barren. Travel outside the country was heavily restricted, the insurrectionist government of Saporians that had swept in during the power vacuum the royals left behind had made sure of that.

 Varian flinched at a loud scream from a few streets over. He began to hustle, ducking into the train station without looking back. In the warmth of the building he sighed, finally able to relax a little. There were dozens of people in the large building, the bustle of them all making Varian’s head spin. His hand unconsciously went up to his necklace, twisting it with nerves.

 There was a long lineup of people waiting for the single open toll window, Varian quietly took his place, unwilling to meet the eye of anyone around as a few of them glared at him. He nervously reached a hand up to pull at his hat, tugging it down over his hair. Something in him demanded he hide, burrowing deeper into his coat.

 Eventually Varian reached the front of the line, quietly approaching the grumpy looking man behind the glass.

 “Uh, hi!” He said, waving awkwardly. “One, um, one ticket for Vardaros, please?”

 The man arched a brow at the sight of Ruddiger, but quickly turned back to Varian with a scowl. “Papers?” He grunted, holding out his hand.

 “I- I’m sorry?” Varian asked, “What-”

 “Your travel papers, boy.” The man grunted. “No papers, no ticket.” When Varian continued to fumble, the man lost patience and barked, “NEXT!”

 Varian was quickly jostled out of the way, blinking in shock. Sure enough when he looked to a nearby sign, he could see the latest proclamation that in order to cross the border, he’d need government papers.

 “Shit.” He hissed. “Shit, shit, shit, shit-”

 “Pst,” A voice cut through his curses, drawing Varian’s attention to an older woman. “You need papers?” She asked him. Varian nodded, tugging his coat closer as she waved him towards her.

 “Go to Hugo,” she whispered, leaning close with a conspiratorial smile. “He lives in the old palace. If you need papers, he can acquire them. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

 “Oh!” Varian quickly nodded, backing away as she shooed him off. “Okay, thank you!”

 “You didn’t hear it from me!” The woman repeated, disappearing into the crowd. Varian watched her go, biting on the inside of his lip. For a second more he stared, nervously, in the middle of the train station. Ruddiger chittered, pulling on his hair, snapping Varian from his daze.

 “Alright,” Varian shook his head, moving for the door. If he needed papers, he’d get those papers. He opened the door, stepping back onto the street. The cold was bitter, angry and painful against his warmed skin. Varian shuddered at the temperature change, but still twisted on his heel so he could look up to the crumbling ruins of the castle. He felt a smile creep across his face, the teenager starting off towards the decrepit building. As he walked, he couldn’t help but reflect on what the woman had told him. He muttered to himself as he moved, determination crossing every footstep. His voice was lost to the wind, but the words were still light in the early afternoon sun.

 “Hugo, huh?”

   >>>><<<<

 If there was ever a time Hugo was regretting his career choices, it was probably now.

 He looked in abject horror at the long list of applicants he, Nuru, and Yong had put together. Every. Single. One. Was crossed out.

 “None of them worked out?” He groaned, looking to Nuru with beseeching eyes. She shook her head with frustration, her dark skin pulling around her eyes as she frowned.

 “Not a one,” she sighed. “They either didn’t look like the lost lord, or didn’t act the part.” None of them were a good Varden, and it was driving Hugo up the wall.

 “This plan isn’t going to work unless we can find a boy to play the part,” Hugo griped, rubbing at his face. “We’re screwed unless we figure it out. Nuru, if we can’t find a guy-”

 “Then we can’t con a grieving woman out of her money, Hugo, I know,” Nuru snapped. Hugo sighed, rolling his eyes. Morals, bah.

 “Don’t make it sound so terrible,” he replied, “If her majesty Princess Rapunzel is dumb enough to offer a reward for a kid who died twevle years ago, then it’s on her. We need out of the country she abandoned, that’s not our fault.”

 Nuru groaned. They’d had this discussion countless times, each one ending the same way.

 “I still don’t like it,” she whispered, “It’s a terrible thing to do.”

 “I think Nuru’s right!” A third voice piped up. Nuru and Hugo snapped from their glaring match to look at Yong. Their third companion was sitting cross legged nearby, fiddling with what was definitely dynamite. Hugo scoffed, shaking his head.

 “Don’t blow anything up,” he chided, before turning back to Nuru. “And if you both feel that way, then have fun starving to death in this shithole city! You don’t have to come along.”  

 That shut them up. Hugo sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Guys, listen," he said, “I know it’s a little… morally grey, but just think of the money! We get a boy to play the part of Varden, we take him to Vardaros, we get the coin, and we’re set for life. No more scrapping for food, no more fighting to survive, just cupcakes and caviar for the rest of our days!”

 The abandoned castle around them groaned in the raging winds. Nuru shuddered against the cold, shaking slightly in the bitter air. Hugo crossed his arms, cocking his head. He knew he was right, and was certain she knew it as well. The younger girl finally scoffed, crossing her arms.

 “I still don’t like it,” she muttered, looking away with a glare as Hugo smiled at her admission.

 “And you can cry about it in a palace,” he shot back, “Instead of a dump like this.”

 Nuru scoffed, but finally let it drop. Hugo looked back to the list, almost a hundred crossed out names staring back at him.

 “Well, like I said, we’re screwed if we can’t find a boy to play our prince,” he griped. “I guess we’ll have to put out more applications.”

 “I don’t know if there’s anyone left to apply,” Yong piped up from his place on the floor. “We’ve been at this for days.”

 “There’s gotta be someone,” Hugo grunted, “I know it-”

 He was cut off as a loud clatter rang through the abandoned halls of the old palace. All three of them tensed, looking towards the entrance to the grand ballroom, where the noise had come from. Unfortunately, the old castle had had more than one squatter over the years, and the three of them were only the most recent occupants.

 “Shit,” Hugo said, “Must be looters again.”

 “I can take care of it!” Yong cheered, holding his dynamite high. “I think I finally got the burn ratios right-”

 “No.” Nuru interrupted, “No you will not be taking care of them.” Hugo snickered, until her amber eyes landed on him. “Hugo will be,” she said with a smirk.

 “Wha-“ Hugo spluttered as Nuru’s smile went sharp, “Fine. But I don’t want to hear another room about bullshit morals for at least a week.”

 “Fine,” Nuru grinned like she’d won something. Though she probably had, from the way Hugo ended up walking for the door. On the way he scooped up a crowbar, specifically used for that purpose and an old friend, at that point. He grumbled to himself as he shoved at the door, entering the ballroom on silent feet. He tried to ignore the eyes on his back as he walked past a portrait of the royal family, their unblinking gaze settling on his shoulders as he hustled into the ballroom properly.

 It was a large space, towering and opulent even in ruin. Large windows lined both of the longer walls, bathing the room in the light of the setting sun. It bounced off the dusty floors, shining off tarnished gold and illuminating the cloth covered silhouettes of furniture long since left to time. Hugo hated being in the ballroom, it was always drafty and definitely haunted; the revolution had started here, he knew, and the large stains of long dried blood that marred the marble floors was enough to prove that.

 He shuddered, moving further into the room. Over the calls of the freezing winds though broken windows he could hear shuffling footsteps, accompanied by…

 “Is that humming?” He whispered to himself, already more confused than where he’d started.

 Sure enough, drifting along in the quiet ballroom, was an unmistakably male voice humming along to a lullaby sort of tune. Green eyes scanned the ballroom, finally landing on a short, small figure standing across the room. Hugo scowled, marching forwards, but paused as the shorter teen skimmed his hand along a covered table.

 “Soon, you’ll be,” the boy murmured to himself, “Home with me, once upon a December.” His thin fingers trailed across the table, his blue gaze a million miles away.

 Hugo scoffed, rolling his eyes.

 “Hey!” He shouted, “You wanna scram? This party’s invite-only!”

 The stranger startled, whirling around to look at Hugo with wide eyes. Hugo couldn’t help but appraise for a second- the guy was cute, even in the ill-fitting jacket and wrapped in fifty layers… and what was with the raccoon?- but with the big hood it was nearly impossible to see much of him. A pair of brass goggles, beaten but obviously well loved, were perched on his head.

 “Sorry!” The black-haired teen said, “Sorry, sorry, I’m looking for uh- Hugo? I think that was his name…”

 “Who’s asking?” Hugo barked. He set the crowbar down on the table, getting close enough that he could see the smattering of freckles on the stranger’s cheeks. He also noted, with a smug grin, that the other teenager was nearly a head shorter than him.

 “My name’s Varian,” the intruder said. “I was told that a guy named Hugo lives here, and that he can help me with travel papers-”

 “Ah- quiet!” Hugo hissed, “Do you want the guards knowing about all that?”

 Varian perked up, grinning slyly. “So you are Hugo, then?”

 “I- shit, yeah alright,” Hugo groaned, feeling a headache brewing. “I’m Hugo, but I can’t help you right now. I’m busy.”

 Varian’s face fell, before sinking into a pout. “You don’t understand,” he said, “I have to get to Vardaros, it’s important!”

 Hugo only shrugged, he didn’t have time for this, not with the search for someone to play their Varden. “Sorry, Sweetcheeks,” he bemoaned, smirking at the frustrated expression on Varian’s face at the nickname. “Got places to go, people to see.” He spun on his heel, walking back towards where he’d left Yong and Nuru.

 “Wait!” Varian ran after him, the shorter boy skidding to a stop between Hugo and the painting of the ex-royals. “Wait- please, I just need the travel papers, and I’ll be out of your hair!”

 His hood had fallen off in the scramble, hair wild as it escaped from under the hood. Hugo paused at the streak of blue cutting through the black like a slash of light through a midnight sky. His eyes moved from Varian’s frantic face and up to the painting behind him- specifically on the visage of the missing lord.

 Oh.

 Bingo.

 “That’s too bad,” Hugo shrugged, reaching into his pocket. “Because I’m busy looking for the lost lord, and these-” he pulled a set of four tickets out with a flourish, “Are for his royal highness, myself, and my companions, so that we can take him to his sister in Vardaros.”

 Varian’s eyes locked on the tickets. Hugo’s grin widened. Gotcha.

 “Of course, we haven’t found him yet- say you look a lot like Lord Varden yourself, don’t you?”

 Varian looked dumbstruck for a second. His hand was fiddling with a pendant around his neck, some weird circle looking thing, but Hugo could see the curiosity in his eyes. Now to lock it in.

 “What makes you say that?” Varian asked.

 The blond gestured towards the painting, stepping up beside Varian with a flourish. “Why, just look!” Hugo said. “You’re practically the spitting image. The hair, the eyes- I can practically see Lady Ulla’s nose!”

 Varian let out a loud laugh, crossing his arms as he too turned and looked the painting in the eye. Now that Hugo could see Varian and Varden side by side, he really could see the similarities in the face, hell even the stripe in his hair. He’d be perfect.

 “As if,” Varian scoffed. “I’m just… just some orphan. There’s nothing special about me, and I’m not some lost Lord.”

 “Who says you can’t be?” Hugo argued, his grin only widening as Varian began to look more and more nervous. “What, don’t you remember?”

 “I don’t," Varian muttered. “This is going to sound crazy; I was found when I was six, with no idea about who I was or where I came from. I was just wandering around the city by myself, the only thing I have left is this.”

 He held up the pendant, the gold catching the light. “I mean, sure,” Varian kept going, focusing intently on his painted twin. “Every lost little boy wants to think he’s a prince, that’s a given. But there’s no way I am who you think I am.”

 Hugo tapped at his chin, playing dumb. Time to give a little slack, he thought to himself, forcing his shoulders into a casual shrug.

 “Well, if you’re sure,” he said, once again walking away. Varian stayed in front of the painting this time, almost unable to move away from the image of the lost lord. Hugo slowed his pace, not looking back but mentally counting down as he got further away.

 Sure enough, a self-satisfied smirk crawled across his face as he heard hurried footsteps chasing after him.

 “Hugo!” Varian’s voice echoed through the abandoned ballroom, “Hugo, wait!”

 “Need something, Sweetcheeks?” Hugo asked as he turned around to face a nervous Varian.

 “Maybe- okay, do you really think that I might be the lost lord?” Varian fidgeted with his pendant again, biting his lip. “Because, I don’t remember my family, but I know they’re in Vardaros, and you said that the princess is in Vardaros, right, so maybe… maybe it’s not a coincidence?”

 Something smug settled in Hugo’s gut. The blond smiled, wrapping an arm around Varian’s shoulders. “I’m almost positive,” he assured the nervous boy. “In fact, think of it this way. Either you are Varden, in which case you find your family and all that garbage, or, if I’m wrong, you’re in the right place to start looking for them.”

 Varian’s face lit up at that, his hand finally dropping the necklace in favour of spinning out of Hugo’s grip.

 “I- okay!” He chirped, already outpacing Hugo. “Okay, yeah, let’s give it a try!”

 The blond watched him go, the younger of them already moving up the stairs and towards where Yong and Nuru were. Hugo smiled, something sneaky and smug at Varian’s retreating back, already planning out exactly how he was going to spin this. He focused on his new cohort with barely contained glee, already imagining the piles of gold Varian would fetch them from the Princess.

 It was because of that focus, that he completely missed a flash of bright fuchsia from up in the rafters of the old ballroom.

>>>><<<<

 They said that evil never slept, but it had certainly been dormant for some time. 

 She wasn’t sure exactly why she had been drawn back to consciousness after almost two decades. It had been some time since she had destroyed the joy of the Coronan princess once and for all. Sure, the princess had survived, but the wake of blood and suffering was more than enough to sate the bloodlust that had tied Zhan Tiri to the human realm.

 But now, she was awake again.

 Zhan Tiri was not a stupid creature, despite what that fool Demanitus had thought. She knew that something had gone wrong with her revenge on Corona for her to be brought back from the dredges between time and space. Conscious again in the swirling void of her realm, Zhan Tiri spurred back to life. When she opened her eyes she saw two figures, her loyal servants, standing by and waiting, just as they had been all those years ago.

 “Tromus,” she greeted, “Sugracha.”

 “Mistress,” they responded, dull and monotonous.

 “Something seems to be stirring, in Corona.” Zhan Tiri murmured, reaching forwards to the air in front of her. With a rip of her claw she tore a gaping wound in the universe, a fracture in space time that allowed her to see the results of her handiwork. A flicking purple portal stood in front of her, showing her glimpses of the human world.

 In this one, she could see the Coronan princess, slouched on a lounging chair, despondent as always. She looked near tears, fiddling with a small music box that Zhan Tiri knew she was unable to open.

 “The princess suffers,” Tromus purred, “As always.”

 Sugracha snickered, content with the result. The image in the portal flickered, switching to the burnt-out shell of Corona Castle. “And Corona is in ruin.” She cooed.

 Zhan Tiri clicked her tongue. The two of them snapped to attention. “We’re awake for a reason, my friends,” the demon murmured. “There’s something not right with our revenge.”

 She searched again, the feeling drawing her towards the interior of the castle. She waved a claw once more, switching the image. It was two young men, one blond, one raven with a blue streak-

 “Ah.” She cooed, “One of them managed to escape us, it seems.”

 For all Zhan Tiri was calm on the outside, on the interior she could feel the rage brewing. How dare that boy escape her, ruin her perfect revenge? The demon grit her teeth, toying with a wisp of magic in the air.

 “That won’t do.” Tromus’ accented voice drifted through the air. “We wanted all of them, save the princess.”

 “The boy will have to be dealt with.” Sugracha agreed. “Wouldn’t want him causing problems.”

 “Hm,” Zhan Tiri allowed a smile to split her face. In the portal, she could see the boy growing acquainted with a small group of other humans. He was the spitting image of his parents; it made the anger in her gnash its teeth like a starving beast. “It seems we have a little insect to squash.”

 Her head tilted towards Tromus, ram’s horns slicing at the swirling cosmos around them. “Tromus,” she said. He snapped to attention, ever the loyal soldier.

 “Yes, my lady?”

 “Take care of the pest, would you?”

 Tromus grinned, allowing himself the luxury of floating forwards in a showy bow, dipping at the waist.

 “Of course, my lady.”

>>>><<<<

 Varian watched the countryside slide by with fascinated eyes. The train was fast, speeding through the countryside at a breakneck pace. He’d never been on a train before, so the whole thing was novel enough to have kept his attention for the first few hours of the trip.

 Their train car rumbled along the tracks, the hissing of steam and whistling of engines faint enough that it wasn’t distracting. Varian bounced slightly in his seat, looking away from the windows and towards his new companions with a smile.

 Nuru and Yong sat across from him, the two of them taking up the bench. Nuru was quietly writing on a few sheets of loose-leaf paper, and a curious eye told Varian she was forging travel papers for them all in a crisp, blue ink. He winced at the legal implications, but still decided not to say anything.

 The door to their left opened, sliding over on its track. Varian looked to see Hugo standing there, brushing his coat off.

 “How are we looking, Nuru?” He asked, shuffling into the cabin. Yong refused to move his feet away, forcing Hugo to step over him. The blond grumbled, throwing himself down onto the seat next to Varian. The shorter boy let out an oomph, grunting as he was jostled.

 “Hey-“ Varian griped, shoving at Hugo. “Watch out!”

 “Oh, so sorry your highness,” Hugo muttered, “I’ll be sure to be more careful next time.”

 Varian grumbled, shoving at Hugo with a grunt. The blond responded by sticking his tongue out, to which the other teenager did the same.

 “Boys,” Nuru snapped. “I’m a little busy here, could we maybe act like adults while I work?”

 Varian sighed, rolling his eyes and slouching back into the bench. The frozen scenery of Corona continued to pass them by, blue eyes watching curiously at the world beyond. Ruddiger purred from his place in Varian’s lap, stretching contentedly when Varian scratched between his ears. Varian fiddled aimlessly with his pendant, letting his mind wander and missing how Hugo and Nuru began to frantically whisper to one another.

 Corona had once been beautiful, apparently, not that Varian could remember it. His fingers buried into Ruddiger’s fur, scratching away as the expanse of white sped on by. For a second he could have sworn he saw a flash of green light from nearby, moving around near the wheels below. Varian sat up straighter, trying to focus on it. What had-

  He was distracted as Hugo stood again, grabbing his bags from the overhead. Nuru was doing the same, as was Yong. Thoughts of the green light fled, especially when he saw how worried the others looked.

 “Are we moving?” Varian asked, arching a brow when Hugo nearly dropped his suitcase.

 “Yep,” Hugo replied. There was something stressed about his tone, but Varian didn’t bother to question it. Instead he stood as well, scooping up his meager shoulder bag and following the other tree as they left the cart.

 “Red,” Nuru muttered bitterly, “Why would they change to red, they’ve been blue forever-”

 Ah.

 Varian groaned, watching her crumple up the half-finished forgeries in clenching hands. “Oh,” he said, “Is that why we’re moving.”   

 Hugo scowled, tugging Yong along gently when the younger boy wasn’t moving fast enough. “It might be, Sweetcheeks,” he said, “We’ve got a plan, though.”

 Varian only scoffed, cocking a hip. “I gotta say, if I am royalty, then you’re not exactly giving me a lot of confidence here-”

 “Guys!” Yong whispered, holding a door open in front of them. “C’mon!”

 Hugo quietly pushed Varian ahead. The shorter of them went quietly, stepping into the cold of the new train car. They were close to the engine now, the noise of it loud in his ears and the rumbling much worse than it had been in the passenger cars. Around them were countless suitcases and bags, even the odd crate or two. Varian looked around apprehensively, clutching Ruddiger tightly.

 “Is… this the baggage compartment?” He asked, biting at his lip. “Are you sure they won’t find us here?”

 “Nope,” Hugo grinned, popping the p.  “But it’s the best we’ve got.”

 “I thought you said you had this all planned out,” Varian grumbled. His hand nervously went to his pendant, twiddling it between his fingers as he tried to stave off the cold. Hugo looked ready to smack him, but Yong distracted them both before anything else could brew.

 “Uh, guys?” He smushed his face against one of the windows of the compartment, looking towards the engine. “I think something’s not right.”

 The train rumbled again, a lurching, unnatural thing that sent all of them toppling to the wooden floor. Varian cried out as his elbow hit the floor first, a shock of pain running up the whole limb. Ruddiger hissed when Varian dropped him, but the boy didn’t have time to apologize before there was another loud bang, and his guts swooped out from under him as the train suddenly picked up a large amount of speed.

 “What the hell is going on?!” Hugo barked, stumbling to his feet. “Have they lost their goddamn minds?!”

 Nuru, standing as well, stared out the small window in the door they’d just entered from, her eyes wide and her skin nearly ashy from lack of blood. She turned to face the boys, and in a flat tone said: “We’ve lost the passenger cars.”

 “What?!” All three of the boys cried at once.

 Nuru didn’t reply, simply opening the door wide. Varian felt his heart sink at the sight of the Coronan wilderness beyond, the rest of the train having come free and was steadily being left a fair way down the track behind them.

 “Well, that can’t be good.” Hugo muttered, already going for the engine car instead. “We’ve got to see if we can stop this thing!”

 Varian was on his feet in an instant, following the blond as they reached the forward end of their car. Hugo ripped the door open, the wind rushing into the baggage car, screaming as it whipped past them. Varian trembled in the sudden cold, clinging tight as he forced his eyes open and stared at the engine. It was glowing a bright, noxious green. He felt his heart sink, watching as Hugo jumped the gap between the two cars. The blond moved to the engine, trying to find a way to stop themselves.

 “How’s it look?” Varian called over the wind, grimacing when Hugo spun around with a worried face.

 “Not-so-great!” The green-eyed man replied, hopping back over to the luggage cart. “It’s all ruined, there’s no way to stop it.”

 “Shit,” Varian gasped. He looked up ahead of them, into the far distance, where the silhouette of a crumbling bridge could be seen.

 A broken bridge.

 “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Varian breathed, reaching out blindly to pat at Hugo’s shoulder. Once he had the blond’s attention he wordlessly pointed to the shattered remains of the bridge, feeling his face drain of blood.

 “Hm,” Hugo grunted. “I can see that developing into a problem.”

 Varian nodded, lost in the shock as he refused to look away from the steadily approaching drop. Hugo dropped to his knees next to Varian, starting to tug at the connection keeping their car attached to the engine.

 “Goggles!” He barked, “Try and find me something I can use to wedge us apart!”

 Varian stuttered to life, turning back into the car with haste. Nuru and Yong were both scattered about, trying to find a way to slow them down. Nuru was throwing a series of weighted chains from the back door, the ends of them snagging on the tracks but not enough to slow down the car. Yong was working on something, a stick of what looked like dynamite held tight in his hands.

 Varian inhaled a quick breath, holding out a hand to Yong. “Can I borrow that?” He asked, his voice oddly calm despite the panic climbing higher in his throat.

 Yong looked up to Varian, then down to the dynamite in his hand. The younger boy looked confused for a second, but still handed it over. “Sure, I guess,” he chirped. “Just be careful!”

 Varian grinned, rushing back to where Hugo was still bashing at the connection with what looked like a screwdriver.

 “I hope you-“ bang, bang, “Found us a hammer, or a crowbar would be better, because this thing doesn’t want to move-“ bang, bang.

 Varian merely leaned over him, holding the dynamite in front of his glasses.

 “Oh,” Hugo said, going slightly cross-eyed as he focused on the explosive. “Yeah, that’ll do.”

 Varian smiled, stepping back as Hugo got to work. He rushed back to Yong and Nuru, waving at them.

 “Hold on to something!” He shouted, ducking behind a crate and pressing his back against it. He caught sight of Nuru grabbing Yong by the hand and dragging him behind another crate before his vision was taken up by green fabric. Hugo slammed into the crate next to Varian, breathing heavily from running to the back of the car, and pressing hard against the wood.

 “Brace!” The taller boy shouted, slamming his hands over his ears. Varian copied him, only just in time before the whole car rattled with a sharp force. He felt a small pain as he bit his own tongue, his body rattling down to the bone with the force of it.

 Varian tasted copper.

 But as quickly as it started, the shaking ended. Varian cracked his eye open and let himself breathe at the sight of slowing trees. He peeked around the crate, eyes widening when he saw the front half of their car totally destroyed, small fires racing up the sides of it. In the far distance, he could see the engine car speeding towards the bridge, getting dangerously close.

 Their car trundled to a stop at last, unable to keep up momentum without the engine car to pull it. Varian saw the engine car hit the bridge in the far distance, before finally shooting off the broken track and into the gorge below. Hugo stood next to him, the two of them watching the massive engine go plummeting over the side only a half-mile away. There was a second of terrible silence, before another explosion rocked the earth, a plume of black smoke starting to rise from the gorge.

 Varian stumbled back, only to be settled by a hand on his upper arm. He leaned into Hugo’s touch, watching the smoke rise in the distance.

 “Well.” Blue eyes focused on the smoke as Varian crossed his arms. “That was fun.”

 Hugo’s hand didn’t move off his arm, but Varian didn’t shove it away.

 “What did they teach you in your orphanage?” Hugo finally asked, “Because whatever it was, it’s very different from mine.”

 And with that, the moment snapped in half.

 Varian scoffed, shoving at Hugo’s hand and spinning on his heel. He walked back into the car, already moving to help Nuru up off the floor. “A thank you wouldn’t hurt!” He called, unaware of how Hugo’s eyes followed him as he left.

 And, oddly enough, unaware of the blush that scattered across Hugo’s cheeks.

>>>><<<<

 “If you’re going to convince them to meet with you, you’ll need some formal training.” Nuru said, tapping at her chin.

 Varian looked up from the book he’d been reading, an eyebrow arched. “I don’t know,” he said with apprehension, “I don’t think I have the disposition for the royal way of doing things.” He snorted at the thought, turning back to his book, only to have it gently taken from his hands.

 “Hey-”

 Nuru didn’t seem phased, shutting the book with a snap. “If you have no training, they won’t even let you meet with the prince-consort, let alone agree to see the princess.” Her smile was sharp, obviously delighting in being the one in charge. Varian paused, mulling it over.

 “I… I guess that’s fair.” He said, biting at his lip. One of his hands went again to the pendant, tugging at the chain. “But I don’t even know where to start.”

 Nuru’s grin got wider, her arms going behind her back.

 “Welcome to royalty boot camp,” she said, “I’ll be your guide.”

 Varian laughed, allowing her to take his hand. She pulled him to his feet, settling her hands on her hips as she appraised him. Seeming to find what she was looking for, her face split into a warm grin.

 “Now,” she began, “You were born in a palace by the sea…”

 The next few days were a whirlwind of rules- Varian felt his head spin with every new piece of information, each new rule, but he did his best to keep everything straight.

 Back straight, head up-

 When addressing a count you will call them-

 Your sixth great-uncle was named Ivan-

 It was a flurry of names and history, but it never was too much. Somehow it felt less like learning something new and more like re-building a puzzle- like the pieces had always been there, but only now the image was starting to come through. Varian tried not to dwell on it, grateful for the fact that the information at least was easy to learn.

 The trip was tiring, but worth it as they slowly hiked their way towards the coast. Hugo had told him that they’d reach the coast in the next day, and then it would be a simple boat ride to reach Vardaros. Varian could feel the excitement settle in his bones, the promise of finally reaching the place he’d been aiming for after all these years.

 And, to be honest all the trivia was kind of fun, too

 “And remember to mention that your second cousin, Elbert, would invite you and your father to his estate for a few weeks every summer.” Nuru told him as they all sat upon a large carriage. It trundled down a dirt path, slowly but surely getting closer to their destination. The costal city around them was buzzing with people, the air warm and smelling of salt.

 “Oh, yeah.” Varian said, tapping at his chin. “Didn’t he have an orange cat? I think it was really fat, right?”

 Nuru paused, glancing at Hugo. The blond looked stricken, blinking. Nuru shrugged, and then turned back to Varian.

 “That’s right,” she chirped, before leaning over to Hugo. “Did you teach him that?” She whispered, “Because I didn’t.”

 “I thought you did,” Hugo replied, the two of them staring at each other with a small shock. There was no way… right?

 “Oh!” Varian’s voice cut through their confusion. “Guys, look, it’s the port!”

 Sure enough, their carriage had pulled into the port properly. It was busy out, as expected, but Varian couldn’t help but be excited as they stepped off the carriage and onto the cobblestones. Hugo tugged him along by the elbow, dragging Varian behind him as he walked further into the port.

 “Where’s the boat?” Hugo asked Nuru, who only shrugged.

 “I think it’s this way,” she replied, heading off into the crowd. Yong followed her, used to keeping himself from getting lost in big crowds. It seemed Varian didn’t have that skillset yet, as he was forced to keep close to Hugo so he wouldn’t get lost. The blond didn’t seem phased at the close contact, instead leisurely throwing an arm around Varian’s shoulders.

 Eventually Nuru found the ship, a massive, metal steamboat made for forcing its way up the lakes and rivers leading to Vardaros. Varian had never seen such a huge boat, his eyes went wide at the sight of it. Hugo and the others seemed unphased, simply walking up the gangplank like they owned the place.

 “Gotta pretend to belong,” Hugo had told him once, “Or else everyone will see you for exactly what you are.”

 The ship gently rolled beneath his feet, the wood of the decking polished and clean despite being old. Varian leaned back a little, taking in the sun on his skin. Corona had been cold since the fall of the royal family, to feel the sun like this was a rarity these days. He leaned against the railing of the ship, letting the warmth sink deep-

“Ey, Sweetcheeks!”

 Oh, Hugo.

 Varian opened one eye, tilting his head to look as the blond approached. He had something tucked under his arm, tied together with string in a little bow. Hugo had a grin across his face, one that only widened when Varian opened his other eye and focused on him.

 “I got you a little something the other day,” Hugo said, holding out the bundle. It looked like it was made of teal fabric, a jacket maybe? Varian blinked, holding out his hands wordlessly as Hugo shoved the present at him.

 “I- thank you?” He said, the words coming out more as a question than something grateful. Hugo’s smile cracked into a smirk, worming across his face.

 “Well,” he said, “You can’t exactly meet her majesty looking like the common rabble, can you?”

 Varian laughed, holding the present closer to him. “Okay, moment’s ruined,” he snickered, “Thank you, Hugo.”

 He tried to ignore how Hugo lit up at the praise, the faintest smattering of a blush crossing his pale skin. Varian felt his own face rush with red, and he quickly pushed himself off the railing and held the gift close.

 “I’m going to go try it on,” he said, bolting for the cabins. He hoped that Hugo hadn’t seen him getting flustered, but as he changed, he couldn’t help but blush harder. Varian caught his reflection in the mirror, biting his lip at the sight of a teal vest, dark pants, and a billowing white shirt. He’d never owned anything so nice before, let alone something that looked so nice on… him. Varian turned away from the mirror, coughing to cover up how flustered he felt. He quickly left the cabin, returning to the deck.

 He caught sight of Nuru and Yong, the two of them laughing as they spun together. There was a small quartet of men with instruments, other passengers Varian would assume, playing a jovial tune. He laughed as Nuru and Yong went spinning past him, jumping back to avoid their path. Varian clapped along to the beat of the music, watching the dancers with a large grin.

 He felt a presence sidle up next to him, and looked over to see Hugo. The blond was avoiding his eye, leaning against the railing. Varian arched a brow, quickly putting the pieces together. His face split into a wry grin, grabbing one of Hugo’s hands.

 “Dance with me!” He said, tugging Hugo along into the circle. Green eyes went wide, Hugo putting up a bit of a fight but nowhere near as much of one that Varian knew he could. Hugo eventually went along with it, placing his hands onto Varian’s waist and following as the other dancers spun in a circle. Varian smiled, tossing his arms around Hugo’s neck and letting himself be led.

 The music slowed a little, the beat turning into more of a waltz. Hugo rolled his eyes, but Varian noted how his hands never left Varian’s waist.

 “Okay, Sweetcheeks,” he said, “Just gotta make a box- yeah, see, you get it. We’ll make a dancer of you yet.”

 Varian pouted, taking the chance to accidentally step on Hugo’s foot. The blond winced, his face squishing in mild pain. Varian snickered, biting at his lip as Hugo playfully glared back.

 “Haha,” he griped, “You must think you’re very funny.”

 Varian laughed, nodding. “I’m hilarious,” he said, “It’s not my fault you just can’t see it.”

 They continued to bicker back and forth, slowly drawing closer until they were only inches apart. Neither noticed that the other dancers had stopped, and that the music had drifted away until it was only a single violin player left. Their world had narrowed down to each other, the quiet sass and laughter they shared.

 Nuru, nearby, smiled knowingly as she gently pushed Yong downstairs, leaving them alone.

 Boys, honestly.

>>>><<<<

 Hugo woke up to the sound of Ruddiger clawing at something.

 “C’mon,” he groaned, “Can’t you just wait until the morning, you stupid trash panda?”

 He kept his eyes screwed tight, throwing an arm over them for good measure. He’d opted to take the floor for the night, leaving Nuru and Yong to split one bunk in their room and Varian to take the last bed, so his back was killing. Now, the stupid raccoon wanted to play, and he had just gotten to sleep-

 Ruddiger kept pawing at the door, chattering up a storm. Hugo nearly snapped, quickly losing patience.

 “What do you want, you little gremlin?!” He hissed, throwing his arm away from his face and sitting up dramatically to glare at the raccoon. Ruddiger didn’t even look at him, clawing at the wood of their door like he was trying to burrow through it. Rain pattered at the porthole window nearby, the occasional flash of lightning flickering through the room. Hugo grumbled at the sound of rolling thunder, but slowly woke up as Ruddiger continued to panic.

 “Hey,” Hugo said, caution taking over at the sight of the frantic animal. “Hey, ringtail, what’s wrong?”

 He rolled over a bit, quietly getting to his feet and shuddering at the cold on his toes. He looked around the dark cabin, trying to see if anything was out of place. Yong and Nuru were fast asleep, Yong curled up on his side and Nuru splayed out like a gangly starfish, and all the bags were still there so-

 Wait.

 “Where’s Varian?” Hugo hissed into the darkness. Green eyes focused on the empty bed next to him, widening when he also saw that Varian’s boots had been left behind.

 The ship gave a sickening roll under him, the floor groaning under the force of the rushing waves. Hugo felt his guts swoop out from under him, but managed to keep his footing as he headed for the door. The second he opened it, the raccoon was bolting out into the hallway, long gone by the time Hugo himself got out of the room.

 “Goddamn it,” he muttered, “It’s too early for this shit, I swear.”

 He quickly walked down the hallways, looking for Varian. The longer it took to catch sight of him, the more stressed Hugo became. Soon enough the blond was sprinting down the length of the ship, calling for the shorter voice with something near panic. He’d searched the whole ship, all that was left was…

 “The deck,” Hugo breathed in horror.

 He bolted for the main door, stumbling up the stairs and onto the main deck of the large ship. The storm was only getting worse, the wind rushing around him and nearly sending him toppling onto the soaked deck. Hugo’s hair plastered itself to his head, the rain coated his glasses and made it impossible to see.

 “Goggles?” He yelled over the pounding surf, “Varian?”

 He scanned the deck again, squinting against the rain-

 There.

 Precariously close to the edge was Varian, drunkenly stumbling along the deck. Hugo was moving before he could even think of anything else, his bare feet slapping against the wooden planks.

 “Varian, stop!” He screamed, rushing forwards.

 Varian didn’t even flinch at the scream, instead opting to slowly lurch towards the guardrail. Hugo felt a sense of terror climb higher in his chest, even as he ran. If Varian pitched over the edge, he was surely done for, in a storm like this being in the open water was a death sentence. Varian kept walking, eventually clambering up a set of crates to perch himself on top of the guardrail, a hand holding onto a nearby line the only thing keeping him from toppling over the edge and into the raging water below.

 Hugo screamed again, something wordless and nearly feral as he sprinted forward, reaching a hand out towards the other teenager. Varian swayed dangerously, his bare feet almost half off the railing, a thin hand lifting up into the air like he was reaching for someone.

 Hugo panted as he drew close, his feet skidding as he tried to slow down before he hit Varian and sent them both over the edge. He slipped, landing hard on his side with a shout. Hugo scrambled up to his feet again, reaching out and grabbing Varian around the waist with both arms, pulling him off the railing and onto the boat properly. Varian fought him with sleepy, lazy throws of his limbs. Hugo noted with shock that his eyes were totally closed, had he really been sleepwalking?

 “Lemme… let go!” Varian mumbled, struggling without any real force behind it. Hugo kept his grip easily, backing them off the edge and towards a safer area, the rain still coming down around them could easily send them off the edge if they weren’t careful.

 “Sweetcheeks!” Hugo called again, shaking Varian gently, “You’ve gotta wake up, c’mon!”

 Varian’s freckled cheeks shone from rain and tears, his face scrunched up in fear. Hugo shook him again, letting go of his waist to grab at his shoulders.

 “Varian!” He shouted louder, getting closer to the shorter boy’s face.

 Varian’s eyes snapped open, scaring the hell out of Hugo, the shorter boy gasping like he was coming up from underwater. He looked terrified, small hands coming up and smacking at Hugo’s chest with a little more force than he’d had before.

 “What?” Varian gasped between breaths, “Where- Hugo?!”

 “Oh, thank god.” Hugo gasped, allowing the panic in his chance to finally settle. Varian shook in his grip, violent tremors that took his whole body. The shorter boy looked close to tears. Varian suddenly fell forward, still on his feet but he was leaning his entire body into Hugo’s chest, hands that had been slapping at him gripping his sleepshirt tightly.

 “Hugo.” Varian gasped into the blond’s chest, “I was so scared- I- I saw-”

 Hugo paused, unsure of what to do, before slowly wrapping his arms around Varian and pulling him into a hug. “You’re okay,” he whispered into Varian’s hair, “It’s okay, it’s over now. You’re safe.”

 “I’m not!” Small hands tightened their grip on Hugo’s sleep shirt. “I keep seeing faces- I’m not, I saw a demon, and she said she was going to… to…”

 “It was a nightmare.” Hugo soothed. “It’s okay. Let’s get you below deck, out of the rain.”

 Varian’s hands slowly let go, inching around so that he was hugging Hugo properly. The taller boy held him close, unwilling to let go. “You’re safe,” he murmured again, unsure if he was soothing Varian or himself. The rain continued to pelt them, washing away the fear with the feeling of Varian in his arms, warm and still breathing.

 In the depth of the universe, the space between life and death, the demon Zhan Tiri snarled.

 Sugracha had failed. It was time for her to deal with this herself.

>>>><<<<

 Varian’s leg was bouncing.

 He nervously tugged at his pendant, waiting with the others inside of a grand chateau. Upon arrival to Vardaros he’d been pulled along by Nuru to the richer part of the city, a sprawling neighborhood of mansions with perfectly trimmed hedges and beautifully painted trim.

 Varian had never felt so out of place before.

 They’d stopped at the home of a woman named Willow, an eccentric woman in her early forties, who was apparently the princess’s aunt. She was nice enough, having shouted upon seeing Nuru and wrapped the girl up in a tight hug. She’d brought them into her home, directed them to a sitting room. So now they were here.

 And Varian’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing.

 The room around them was lavish, large paintings and brushed gold. Varian felt under dressed, even in his new clothes. He was exhausted, having stayed awake with nerves the night before. They still refused to leave, the fear cloying as he tried to force it down like a bad pill. Hugo was sitting next to him, stoic and stable. Varian found himself twitching again, unable to stop himself from shaking-

 Hugo’s hand slipped into his own.

 “You’ve got this.” The blond whispered, “It’s okay.”

 Varian nodded, taking a deep breath. He squeezed Hugo’s hand, grateful for the assurance. He managed to get a handle on the shaking, letting his leg finally settle. Nuru and Yong, sitting on a different couch nearby, let out a sigh of relief as he calmed.

 “Who wants tea?” Willow called, entering the room with a tray in her hands. Varian caught sight of a teapot and cups, but felt sick. He was sure if he tried to eat or drink, he’d surely lose his nerves and his stomach.

 Varian breathed deeply as Nuru took a teacup from Willow. She caught Hugo’s eye, nodding when he gestured with his chin to her.

 “Miss Willow,” Nuru said softly, “I think we found him.”

 Willow paused, stopping where she had been pouring tea. “I see,” she said. Her voice had dropped a few degrees. Varian tensed, only calming when Hugo squeezed his hand again. Willow’s eyes focused on Varian, appraising. She gestured for him to stand, her lips pursing.

 “Well, you certainly look like little Varden,” she said. “The stripe is hard for some people to fake, though not impossible.”

 “It’s not fake,” Varian mumbled. He tugged on the stripe self consciously, feeling uneasy under her glare. “I was born with it.”

 Willow smiled, finishing pouring Yong’s tea.

 “Alright then,” she said. “We’ll start easy. Where were you born?”

 It went like that for hours, a series of questions that got more and more specific as the time dragged by. Varian answered each one as best he could, stumbling over his words and constantly tugging at his necklace. Willow wasn’t unkind, but she had the air of a woman who had seen too many fakes.

 The sun was nearly low in the sky by the time Willow was done. Varian felt exhausted, wrung out and tired in a way that was bone deep. Willow had kept the tea flowing and the biscuits piled, but even Nuru and Yong were obviously worn out. They all slouched into their seats, blinking away the light from the setting sun. Hugo had held his hand the whole time.

 “I just have one more question,” Willow finally said. Varian perked up at the thought of an end to the interrogation, sitting straighter.

 Willow pursed her lips, eyes narrowing.

 “How did you escape the raids?” She finally asked, settling back in her seat.

 Hugo tensed. They hadn’t told him that-

 “I…” Varian paused, biting at his lip. “There was… a door, I think? A little one, in a wall. A boy took us through it- but that’s stupid.” Varian cut himself off, shaking his head with a laugh. “Little doors, sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying,”

 He didn’t even notice Hugo’s face go ghostly white next to him, too caught up in his own musing. Willow smiled, nodding.

 “Well,” she finally said, “You answered all the questions correctly-” They all breathed a sigh of relief, “-but I’m afraid my niece isn’t seeing any more potential Vardens. She’s had her heart broken enough times.”

 Varian’s heart sank, the anxiety creeping back in. “I- please!” He cried, “We’ve come all this way, please, she might be the only family I have-”

 Willow sighed, rubbing at her temples. “I can’t take you to her,” the woman finally said, “But, I can say that she’ll be at the Vardaros Opera, tonight. If you were to drop by, I might be able to get you to her.”

 Varian smiled wide, his eyes swimming with tears. “Thank you,” he said quietly, hoping he could impart even just a little of the gratefulness he felt in the words. From the way Willow smiled, it must have worked, as her own face split into a grin.

 “If you are him,” she said, “It’s worth a try. Besides, now we have an excuse to go do something fun!”

 “Something fun?” Yong’s voice piped up, muffled through a mouthful of biscuits. Willow smiled, cracking her knuckles. Varian tensed at the sly look on her face.

 “Shopping.” She declared.

 Oh, dear.

>>>><<<<

 Hugo grit his teeth against the blowing wind, huddling deeper into his coat. The grand entrance to the opera was cold in the evening, large stone steps doing nothing but leeching the warmth from his body. He grumbled to himself, slouching in place as he sat on the stoop. He curled tighter, as if he could shove the bitter feelings down.

 Hugo scowled, picking at the grout between the large stones. The feeling of misery had been settling in his gut ever since Willow had finished quizzing Varian, a festering, horrible thing. It was a dread that had taken him for the whole evening, the blond unable to enjoy the last of his time with Varian before-

 Before he lost him.

 Hugo scowled again, flicking a rock. Varian was the missing lord. A fact that had been festering in his mind for hours. He had been the boy who had saved the real Varden- he had saved Varian, when they were children- he’d been the boy in the wall. Varian was Varden, clear as day. He looked like the missing boy because he was.

 The festering misery only grew worse, digging its claws deeper. Varian was royalty, was one of the heirs to a kingdom- and here was Hugo, with a stupid little infatuation with him. Even if he’d had a shot before- which he didn’t, not with Varian, who was good and kind and pure in a way that was too good for Hugo- he certainly didn’t now. Not with the status Varian finding his family would bring him. Not with a relation like the princess. Varian would surely have his pick of rich, handsome bachelors; Hugo didn’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell when compared to them.

 So yes. Yes, he was bitter, but not against Varian. Never against Varian- Hugo wouldn’t blame Varian for passing him by once someone who would give him what he deserved came along. How could he? Varian deserved the best and brightest, so that was what he’d get.

 And Hugo just wasn’t a contender.

 He felt his face twist into a scowl, picking up a nearby stone to fiddle with. He’d had one last good day with Varian, one more day to watch him smile and laugh, to see him happy. It had been like heaven, seeing the sun shining off those baby blue eyes; Hugo had tried to bask his fill before he’d lose Varian for good. It hurt, knowing his time with Varian was being cut, that he wouldn’t ever be able to pursue the feelings that had burrowed in his chest-

 “Hugo?”

 The blond startled, his thoughts breaking off at the call of his name. He dropped the stone, twisting in his spot to see Varian, wrapped up in his oversized coat.

 “Are you okay?” The younger boy asked, arching a brow. Hugo smiled, standing quickly. He brushed himself off, forcing his face into a smirk.

 “Of course, Sweetcheeks,” he said. “What, worried about little ol’ me?”

 Varian scoffed, but even Hugo could hear the fondness in it. “I just don’t want to be late.” He said, turning and walking towards the opera doors without looking back. Hugo followed without complaint, ditching his coat at one of the checks before trying to find Varian in the crowd again. He never did see what Varian had picked out to wear, he’d been too busy trying to keep Yong on task at the time, so Hugo had no idea what he was even looking for…

 But oh, when he saw it.

 Green eyes caught the flash of blue first, Varian’s blue streak popping out in the sea of black suits. He’d gotten rid of the ugly overcoat, leaving him in a well tailored, form fitting suit made of dark navy material. His shirt was a pressed white, with a blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly-

 Hugo felt his heart thump.

 Varian was looking around nervously, playing with the necklace he never took off. When he caught sight of Hugo, his face split into a large grin, waving awkwardly. Varian carefully picked his way through the crowd, awkwardly shuffling past people until he finally stood in front of Hugo with a small grin.

 “I couldn’t find you,” he laughed, “I thought you'd gotten lost!”

 Hugo was dumbstruck, unable to focus. His tongue felt weighted, his eyes drawn to Varian’s face and unable to look away. The shorter boy looked at him with an expectant face, waiting for him to reply- oh shit, he had to reply.

 “You… you look really nice.” Hugo choked out, awkwardly stumbling over the words. Varian blinked, a small blush sparking across his face at the compliment.

 “I-” he stuttered, “Thank you. You do too.”

 It was a strange moment between them, something fragile but important, a tie in the space between that kept them both rooted to the spot. The buzz of the crowds filtered away, the world narrowing down to just them. Hugo knew that this was it- his last shot, the last chance he’d get to tell Varian how he felt, after this it was over. All it would take is for him to spit it out, to say I think I love you, to just try.

 “I… we should get to our seats,” he said.

 Varian smiled, allowing Hugo to lead him by the arm into the auditorium. Hugo swallowed the regret, the pain, and forced his face into a smile. Varian deserved the world, and the world was what he’d get.

 The opera was boring. Hugo wasn’t usually one for musical theatre, so he mostly ended up watching as Varian nervously tore his playbill to shreds in his lap. Eventually he’d taken Varian by the hand, leaning over and whispering in his ear.

 “It’ll be okay,” he murmured over the singing, “You’ll be fine.”

 The way Varian smiled at him was more than enough for Hugo. He forced himself to commit it to memory, to save the feeling for later, once the ghosts were all he had left.

 At intermission they made their way to the upper balconies, meeting Willow in the main hallway.

 “You made it, good!” The woman said, clapping her hand. “Hugo, you go first. Introduce yourself, tell her you found him. She’s had a bad day today, you’ll need to be delicate.”

 “Sure, delicate,” Hugo muttered, “I can do that.”

 He slipped into the booth through a curtain, only just catching sight of Varian’s worried gaze as he did so. The booth was large, lavish and opulent. Hugo quietly marveled at the plush carpet under his shoes, the soundless way he moved through the space. Curtains hung from every wall, gold leaf and delicate paintings covered any surface not coated in a thick velvet.

 And there, sitting on one of the large, wingback chairs, was the princess herself.

 Rapunzel was radiant, her long, blonde hair spilling out behind her. Her purple dress was beautiful, a layered skirt and tight top accenting her form. Green eyes looked out numbly towards the crowd. When Hugo looked closely, he could see where thick makeup covered deep bruises caused by sleepless nights. Rapunzel, for all she was the essence of grace and beauty, had an air of sorrow around her that refused to leave.

 Hugo stepped forwards, trying to be calm. For Varian.

 “Your majesty,” he began.

 Rapunzel turned to look at him, her gaze boring into him. Two pairs of green eyes locked onto each other, Rapunzel’s face scrunching up in confusion.

 “Hello?” She said, obviously puzzled as to why he was here. “Can I help you?”

 “You can,” he replied. Hugo inched closer, kneeling next to her chair. “I’ve travelled here from Corona, I have someone that I think you’d really want to meet. His name’s Varian-”

 “Ah,” her face crumpled in obvious misery. “Another man chasing after the reward money, huh?”

 “No!” Shit, he’d been afraid of this, “No, ma’am really, I think that I’ve really found him. I used to work at the palace, I was the serving boy that got the two of you out-”

 Rapunzel’s eyes flashed in recognition, but her face remained sad. “Everyone who ever worked at the palace has put their Varden’s forward to me.” Her tone was bitter, exhausted. “And I’m done. I’m sorry, but I won’t be seeing anyone else about the reward. My brother is dead. I can’t keep trying to find him when he obviously has left us. Please, leave me to my mourning.”

 Hugo stuttered, flinching when he felt hands on his shoulders. A security guard started to tug him backward, but he refused, shoving himself toward the princess.

 “No, you have to listen!” He cried, grabbing her by the shoulders. Rapunzel seemed shocked, blinking at him, but he shook her gently. “You have to meet him, he remembers you, please, just give him a chance!”

 Rapunzel’s face crumpled. “My brother is dead,” she snapped.

 And that was the end of it.

 Hugo was wrenched out of the booth by the security guard, the blond shouting as he was pulled away from the princess. In what felt like a split second he was thrown into the hallway, landing with an oomph on the carpet. He got his hands under him, pushing himself up to see a pair of black shoes.

 He looked up, seeing Varian near tears. Hugo shoved himself off the floor, drawing close.

 “It was all a lie, wasn’t it?” Varian asked, his tone dangerous. He sounded furious. He sounded devastated.

 “No,” Hugo tried to touch his arms, but Varian pulled away, “No, no, it’s not like that, I swear-”

 “I was just part of your con?” Varian’s whole body shrank into itself, the hurt in his voice clear. “Just a trick to get her money?”

 “No,” Hugo repeated, desperately trying to get his point across, “No- okay it might have started that way, but it’s different now!”

 Varian turned away, the shock clear on his face as he started to leave. Hugo rushed in front of him, cutting his access to the stairs off. “You are Varden,” Hugo gasped, flinching when Varian’s eyes went cold.

 “Will you stop it?” The shorter boy hissed, shoving at Hugo’s chest. “From the moment this whole thing began you were lying to me, and I was stupid enough to believe you!” He let out a groan of frustration, clenching his fists in the air. Varian’s tone had gone from pained to furious, the air around him dropping a good few degrees.

 “Varian, please, just listen to me-”

 “No!” Varian snapped, “I’m sick of listening to you! Can’t you just leave me alone?” He tried to shove past Hugo, going for the stairs, but the blond caught him by the arm. Varian paused, his face darkening in a scowl as he twisted around and-

 SLAP.

 People in the crowd gasped, watching as Varian yanked his arm out of Hugo’s grip. The blond paused, eyes wide as he brought a hand up to feel his stinging cheek. The shock was immense, nearly enough to quell the ache that had sprung from the hit, but not quite.

 Varian disappeared down the stairs, vanishing into the stunned crowd. Hugo took a second to breathe, to pull his raging emotions back into check, to just panic, before launching himself into the crowd. He pushed past people roughly, uncaring as they whined at his lack of manners.

 Varian, where’s Varian? His mind had narrowed down to one focus, one mission. He couldn’t the stripe of blue anywhere, the other boy having well and truly disappeared. Hugo ended up outside the opera, standing in the misty evening and looking around frantically for his missing friend. It was nearly abandoned outside, the streets quiet.

 Hugo panted as he searched, the devastation slowly sinking into him. He’d screwed up, horribly. He had to make it right, had to apologize, had to-

 Shit, what did he even do now?

 Hugo’s breaths came faster, him having to force air into his aching lungs. Varian must hate him, must think he’s horrible. But Varian was Varden, was the missing lord, this was his chance to get Varian to his family. If Hugo failed now, it was over, for all of them.

 He spun around, trying to catch sight of Varian, but still only saw empty cobblestone streets. A carriage was nearby, the driver waiting nearby as-

 Rapunzel.

 The princess was getting into her carriage, her face molded into a blank slate. Hugo paused, thinking hard- he could get executed for this… but Varian deserved to be with his family, regardless of if Hugo were a part of the picture.

 With that thought in mind, he stalked forward, and got into the driver side of the carriage.

>>>><<<<

 Varian scrubbed at his face roughly, chewing the inside of his cheek to stave off the tears.

 He roughly chucked more of his things into his suitcase, uncaring as to how they fell. His vision swam with bitter tears, eyes burning against the salt.

 Gods, he was so stupid, how could he ever think Hugo would ever be anything other than a dirty, lying cheat-

 Varian slammed his suitcase shut. Ruddiger whined from his place on the bed, the raccoon obviously picking up on Varian’s sour mood. He sighed, reaching out a gentle hand for the animal. Ruddiger chittered, pressing into the touch. Varian blinked away the tears, only to scowl when new ones took their place.

 “Sorry, bud,” he sniffed. “This was stupid of me to drag you all the way here. We’re going home.”

 He heard the door creak behind him. Varian scowled, turning and expecting to see Hugo. He was surprised, then, when he saw a young woman standing in the room with him. She was beautiful, but her face was horribly sad. Her blond hair was frazzled, her dress stained with mud, but her stance was still one of immense power.

 “Y-your majesty,” Varian stuttered. Rapunzel only smiled, taking a seat on the bench of a nearby vanity.

 “So you’re the next Varden, then?” She asked him. Her gaze was expectant, judging.

 Tired.

 “I… I just want to know who I am.” He replied. It was painful, to bare his soul to a woman who was effectively a stranger, but if this was his chance… he’d still take it. “I want to know if I belong to a family. Your family.”

 Rapunzel paused smiling softly. “You’re a very good actor,” she said. “The best yet, in fact. But I think I’m ready to let my brother go.”

 He took a seat next to her, slouching. He’d been hopeful, that much was true, but he couldn’t blame her heart for being broken one too many times. He took a steadying breath through his nose, but paused when he smelt something particular.

 “Is that… paint?” He asked. “Or lavender?”

 “Both,” Rapuzel shrugged. “It’s a special type I order from Pincoasta. Gets the colour just right-”

 “I… didn’t I try to make you a bottle?” He asked, rubbing at his temples with a hand. His head was killing- “But I spilt the oil, on your mother’s favorite carpet. And it reeked of lavender from then on.”

 The princess paused, sitting back down on the bench. “I- yes,” she said, her eyes wide. “Yes, that’s exactly what happened. How did you know that?”

 “I don’t- I don’t know,” Varian stuttered. “I was found with no memories at about six years old. I get… I don’t know, flashes or whatever you’d like to call them. They’re always random, but it’ll be things like smells, tastes… or faces, that bring a memory up.”

 The princess looked at him with that same calculating expression before her eyes trained down to the chain around his neck. “What’s that?” She asked quietly, gesturing to the necklace.

 Varian looked down at it as well, a blush working across his face. “Oh,” he mumbled. “It was something I was found with. It was my clue for trying to come here.”

 Rapunzel looked shell shocked, green eyes blown wide as he took the necklace off and handed it to her. “I… I got him a present,” she told Varian. “Before my parents and I were to go on a trip. So he’d remember me while we were gone.” Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of the pendant, a few trailing down her freckled cheeks. With a small movement she pulled out her bag, drawing out a small, porcelain box. Varian gasped at the sight of it, holding his hand out. She tipped it and the necklace into his palm, crying harder as he inspected it.

 “The music box,” he mumbled, “I remember this. It was so I wouldn’t miss you as much, and it would sing me to sleep.”

 He began to hum to himself as he slotted the pendant into the premade slot, gently turning the crank within. Rapunzel let out a wet gasp as she recognized the tune, the woman blinking away tears as the music box opened. The tiny automaton began its dance, the music trilling through the quiet room.

 ““Soon you'll be, home with me,” She sang to the tune. Varian’s voice floated along with hers, “Once upon a December.”

 Rapunzel fully let out a sob, Varian following along as their eyes met. Without any more hesitation she lunged forward, wrapping him up in a hug. His hands found their way to her back, clinging tight.

 “Varden,” she sobbed, “I thought you were dead-”

 “It’s- heh, it’s Varian,” he giggled out through the tears. “And I didn’t even know I was lost.”  

 Rapunzel held him tighter, laughing into his hair.

 Neither of them saw how, standing on the sidewalk down below, Hugo stood looking up at the window. He held himself high, an honest smile gracing his face. He brought his fingers up to his lips, gently kissing them before raising his hand in a palm up gesture towards the window. He paused for only a second more, coat in hand, before turning and leaving the mansion behind.

 With this, he would have to be content.

>>>><<<<

 Varian bit at his lip, reaching towards his neck. His hand touched air, and he felt a small sinking in his stomach when he realized that he’d left his necklace behind. He let his hand drop, instead picking at his fingers. He hid behind the curtain in front of him, staring out into the massive ballroom beyond, one even more grand than the ones in his recently unlocked memories. He bit at his lip, watching the elites mill about together. He felt out of place already, trussed up in a suit fancier than anything he’d even seen before; the nerves were going to eat him alive.

 “Vard- Varian?” Rapunzel’s voice cut through the anxiety. Varian paused, looking to her with a forced smile. She laughed at his expression, reaching up to gently fix the circlet on his head. He was thankful she was willing to use his second name- after being Varian for so long, he didn’t really want to switch back.

 “Rapunzel,” he greeted, letting his face fall a little. She kept her smile, cupping his cheek.

 “Are you okay?” She asked him. She pushed his hair away from his face, cocking her head.

 “I’m fine,” he lied. There was a pause as she stared him down, the boy quickly breaking. “I was just looking for someone.”

 Rapunzel paused, turning away from him to look out to the party. “He’s not there,” she said sadly, “Though I wish he was. He’s a remarkable young man.”

 “Oh, I’m sure he’s fine,” Varian said, only a little sour, “He’s probably off spending his reward money as quickly as he can.”

 Rapunzel sighed. She gestured towards the guests again, tilting her head. “This is the world we were born into,” she said, her hand waving gracefully. “You were born for riches, gold and diamonds, princes and lords. But is that really what you want?”

 Varian backed away, letting the curtain fall shut. “Of course it is!” He tried to defend, refusing to meet Rapunzel’s eye. “Of course, I found what I was looking for, didn’t I? I found out who I was, I found you-”

 “And you’ll always have me,” Rapunzel assured. “But is it enough?”

 Varian paused, looking at her in confusion. She reached forwards, drawing him into a hug. He hugged her back without pause, unsure of where she was going with this.

 “Varian,” she whispered to him. “Hugo didn’t take the money.”

 “He… he didn’t?”

 She shook her head with a smile. “You’ve grown so much since I saw you,” she grinned. “And I’m so proud of who you’ve become. But… you have to be sure you’re listening to your heart,” she pushed a hand to his chest, gentle, “And no matter where it takes you… know that we’ll always have each other.”

 Varian stuttered, unsure. Rapunzel let him go, slowly going towards the party. She smiled at him one last time before vanishing between the curtains. Varian watched her go, biting his lip.

 For a second he stood stalk still, unable to think- what did he really want? He could follow her, become a prince, live a life of luxury with the family he’d always tried to find… or he could return to the one he’d built. The family he’d stitched together with tape and glue, with Nuru and Yong…

 And Hugo.

 Varian took a step towards the curtain, but stopped himself. He bit at his lip, tapping his foot. He finally spun on his heel with a groan, headed for the door, when something caught his eye.

 A bright fuchsia light glowed from the gardens beyond, wildly out of place against the cool glow of the moon. Varian watched as it flickered, moving around in the distance. He spared one last look to the ballroom before stepping away, walking into the garden beyond.

 It was a warm evening, but he still felt a chill. Varian rubbed at his arms, shuddering. A thick mist permeated the garden, choking out the moonlight before it could really hit the stone path. The pink light was gone, leaving the garden pitched into a strange collage of shadows. Varian spun a bit, trying to find the source, when he heard a sudden voice on the wind.

 Varian.

 He tensed, looking further down the path towards where the voice was coming from. Another gust of wind made him shiver, rubbing at his arms again. He kept moving forwards, deeper into the garden despite the sense of apprehension and danger he was starting to feel.

 Varian.

 He kept walking, startling when he saw another flash of colour out of the corner of his eye.

 “Hello?” He called into the darkness. Something about this was setting him on edge, something in the way the air froze in his lungs. He walked a little faster, eventually finding himself on a large bridge. Water rushed below, nearly deafening. Varian shuddered again, the air was even colder here with the water nearby. He scanned around for the owner of the voice, pausing when he saw a figure on the bridge.

 “H-hello?” His voice was weak in the darkness, fear slowly creeping in. He should go back, back to the warmth and the light-

 “Varian,” the voice, a female one, purred. Varian tensed, moving towards the figure as she spoke. “Your royal highness- a young duke in your own right, hm?”

 Varian squinted, stopping on the bridge properly. The figure continued towards him, slowly taking a female shape. A large, puffy skirt danced around her ankles, long hair done up in two intricate buns. Varian caught sight of a shark’s smile splitting her face, eyes glowing fuchsia in the darkness.

 “Look at what the years have done to us, hm?” The fog parted around the woman at last, showing her nearly skeletal face. Varian flinched at how familiar it was, his nightmares-

 The woman smiled wider, holding her arms towards him. “You, a beautiful young thing… and me, a withered old corpse.”

 Varian’s mind raced, his breath picking up. He needed to run, needed to go, but his feet felt glued to the ground. He shuddered as the woman got closer, her hands barely an inch away from his skin.

 “Don’t you remember?” She asked him, “No? Hm, you were only a child, I suppose. It was a party, just like this one… though it certainly ended with a bang.”

 She waved her hand, her fingers warping into claws. Varian screamed as there was a rush of heat; he threw his arms up in front of his face at the feeling of fire on his skin. He was knocked back onto the stones, landing hard without his hands to stop the fall. The fire suddenly stopped, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

 He looked to the woman in shock, seeing what looked almost like a lantern in her hand. It was glowing that same pink, before settling down into a normal light. She smirked as he stared at her. Varian sucked in a breath through his teeth, everything falling into place- his nightmares had all whispered a name to him, one that had haunted him since he was a child…

 “Zhan Tiri,” he breathed, nearly inaudible above the sound of rushing water below. Her smile grew, something smug and wicked. Varian forced himself into standing again, refusing to break eye contact as she stepped closer.

 “Smart child,” she cooed to him. “I can see some of my Demanitus in you… it’s time I fix that.”

 She waved the lantern again, forcing him to step back towards the railing of the bridge. Varian yelped as the stones shuddered under him, a wave of energy hitting him dead on. He felt tiny hands grabbing at him, trying to pull him towards the edge. He swatted without thinking, gasping when he saw small, demonic creatures swarming him. Varian cried out as one pulled at his hair, ripping it from its slicked back style and making it fall normally. He swiped at them again, panting as they disappeared into thin air. He didn’t need to look down to know his suit was ruined, his circlet gone; he leveled a glare at Zhan Tiri, wanting to smack the smug grin off her face.

 “I’m not scared of you!” He yowled, shoving his wayward hair behind his face. Zhan Tiri only laughed, standing tall as she waved the lantern again.

 “You will be,” she cackled, letting the magic burrow deep into the stones below. Varian shrieked as there was a large crack, the noise near deafening. He nearly fell as the bridge began to shake apart, a large chunk of it, the part he was standing on, beginning to break away. He tried to grab the handrail as it started to tip into the water, but failed.

 He let out a terrified scream as the floor dropped out from under him, falling forwards. He clung to the stones, his fingers nearly numb against the cold. The part of the bridge was nearly ninety degrees from the rest of it- Varian screamed again as he began to slide down towards the raging water. He only just managed to catch himself on an edge before he would have slipped over the side. A wave of nausea took him as he felt his legs swing in the open air.

 He heard a scuffle going on up on top of the bridge, but was too busy focusing on not plummeting to his death to care, until he saw a third figure break through the fog and slide down the broken bridge toward him.

 “Hugo?!” He gasped, clinging tighter as the blond skid to a stop in front of him and grabbed Varian’s arms.

 “Hey,” Hugo grunted, trying to pull Varian up. The smaller boy huffed out a breath, trying to scramble up onto the edge. He caught sight of the fear in Hugo’s eyes, and let out a gasp.

 “If we live through this, remind me to thank you,” Varian gasped as he was pulled, the stone digging into his stomach. He looked up, gasping at a flash of pink behind them-

 “Hugo, LOOK OUT!”

 The older teenager yelped as he was grabbed from behind. Hugo was dragged away by magic, cursing. Varian grunted as he was dropped again, sliding back down to hang off the edge again. His arms burned as he clung to the bridge; he heard Zhan Tiri cackle, Hugo swear.

 “How enchanting,” she laughed, “Together again, just in time to die!”

 Varian heard Hugo shriek, a high-pitched yelp that cut through the noise. He just caught sight of a massive statue bursting to life, the giant, stone horse slamming its hooves into the bridge. No guesses for what was occupying Hugo, then.

 Varian grit his teeth, reaching up and managing to catch a handhold in a cracked piece of the bridge. He pulled himself up, grunting with the exertion of it, and felt himself breathe a little easier once his feet were scrabbling against rock instead of open air. He kept pulling himself up the angled section of bridge, finally getting to the point where he could clamber up to hang off the edge of the standing part of the road.

 He caught sight of Hugo rolling between the stomping hooves, gasping as he clung to the edge. “Hugo!” he cried, throwing out a hand towards the other boy out of sheer desperation. It was because of that distraction that he didn’t even notice Zhan Tiri until she was right in front of him.

 The demon plucked him up by the front of his shirt with barely any effort, holding him high as he struggled.

 “Finally,” she hissed. “The last of Demanitus’ little kingdom, gone. Goodbye, your highness.”

 And with that, she let him drop. Varian shrieked as he fell, his heart jumping in his chest. He managed to snag a piece of metal that was jutting out from the bridge, wincing at the pain that raced up his shoulders when he did so. His body swung in open air, the only thing under him was the raging water a hundred feet below. He grit his teeth against the pain, hearing Hugo shout his name from the bridge. Zhan Tiri shrieked her laughter to the sky, cackling.

 “At last!” She cawed, “The end of Corona is here!”

 Varian swung his legs, forcing himself to move. They thought he was dead, he had a chance here-

 He managed to grab another part of the bridge with aching hands, his fingers nearly slipping. With a groan he pulled himself up onto the stone bridge, gasping for breath as he finally got solid cobble underneath him. He chanced a look up, seeing Zhan Tiri and Hugo locked in a battle of wills with each other. Varian clawed his way to his feet, running for the demon with a shout.

 He caught her in a tackle, sending them both tumbling to the stone. Varian ignored the pain in his body, reaching for the power source Zhan Tiri was carrying around. It glowed an ominous pink, a bright beacon in the dark.

 A target.

 Varian let out a gasp as he touched the lantern, an electric zing making his fingers numb. He felt a sudden kick to his stomach, the demon launching him away, but he kept his grip. Varian felt himself fly back, landing hard on his back. He groaned, rolling a bit on the stone. He caught sight of Hugo nearby, knocked unconscious by… something, and scowled.

 He got his feet under him at the same time Zhan Tiri did. The demon looked frantically around herself, but stopped when she saw the lantern in his hand.

 “Stop!” She shrieked, running towards Varian. He caught just a glimpse into her eyes, the rage and fire in them, before he whipped the lantern down at the ground, shattering it. He was thrown backwards, landing nearly on top of Hugo with a grunt. The world around them spun, flashing lights and colours overtaking the evening in a stunning light show and roaring winds.

 In the center of the vortex, Zhan Tiri screamed, the agony in her voice clear as she sank to the ground. Varian watched in abject horror as she collapsed, dropping to the cobblestone as she turned to dust. Her screams went silent, the flashing pink and roaring winds dying out in a sudden, terrible silence.

 Varian panted, sinking down to the stones as he caught his breath. He wasn’t well versed in this magic business, but turning to dirt probably wasn’t good for anyone, demon or no. He slowly turned on his knees, gently reaching for the man behind him.

 “Hugo?” He whispered, as if scared to break the quiet they’d found themselves in. Varian cupped Hugo’s face with gentle hands, trying to rouse him. “Hugo, c’mon…”

 But Hugo didn’t even stir.

 Varian fought back tears, his eyes searching the other teenager’s face. “Please wake up?” He asked, desperate. “Please?”

 He sniffled, turning away for a second to wipe at his eyes. The fear and adrenaline was starting to leave him, leaving only aches and sorrow in their wake, Varian’s body shook from the ordeal it had gone through, an involuntary spasm as he cried.

 But then, like the sun through clouds, a gasping breath.

 Varian twisted back around, his face splitting into a grin as he saw Hugo’s eyes open. The blond looked confused, still dazed from whatever had hit him, but Varian didn’t pause, instead throwing himself into Hugo’s chest with a happy noise.

 “Ow,” Hugo whined at the impact, “Ow, c’mon Sweetcheeks, wanna maybe be gentle?”

 “Oh, sorry!” Varian backed off, a little, but he was still close enough that their noses were almost touching. He cocked his head, looking at the green eyes in front of him.

 “You… came back?” Varian asked, “I thought you were going back to-”

 “I was,” Hugo shrugged, not meeting Varian’s eye, “But, uh, I…”

 “You didn’t take the-”

 “I couldn’t.”

 Varian’s head dipped a little more, drawing closer to Hugo. “Why?”

 The blond paused, shrinking a bit. “Because I…”

 Varian stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, the shorter boy moving closer. They were only centimeters apart, their breaths mingling-

 Tink.

 They startled at the noise. Varian looked down to see he’d nudged his circlet, the shining diamonds still bright in the evening light. Hugo smiled, something quiet and resigned, before picking up the crown. He stood, Varian following quickly.

 “They’ll be waiting for you,” Hugo murmured. He held the circlet to Varian, who took it with gentle hands. He stared down at it, contemplating, before looking back up at Hugo.

 And just like that, he made his choice.

>>>><<<<

 Rapunzel entered her grand foyer, Willow following her closely.

 “I’m sure we’ll find him, darling,” Willow placated, “He can’t have gone far.”

 Rapunzel only smiled knowingly, catching a glint of shine on a nearby table. She walked to it, picking up Varian’s circlet from the tabletop. Her face split into a wide smile, reading the accompanying note quickly before passing it to Willow. Her aunt took the paper, scanning it, before gasping.

 “They’ve eloped!” She cooed, “Isn’t that romantic?”

 Rapunzel grinned, joyful tears in her eyes. She held Varian’s crown to her, smiling at the thought of her baby brother out there, happy at last. She watched as Willow dabbed at her eyes, sniffling. Rapunzel laughed as Willow cooed again, holding the note out back to her. The princess only turned away, looking out her window towards the expanse of Vardaros.

 Something in her settled at last, content to know he was out there, finally living his life. She took one last breath, blinking away the last of the tears as she focused on the distant river. If she imagined, she could almost catch a flash of blue on the deck of one of the boats.

 Though she may not know it at the time, Varian stood on one of those very ships, laughing as Hugo bowed to him. He performed an overly dramatic mime of a curtsey, letting Hugo take him by the arm and begin to spin him, giggling as they danced together. His face glowed with the light of his smile, drawing closer to Hugo as they danced, until finally-

 The press of Hugo’s lips on his was like coming home at long last.

 Varian smiled into the kiss, bringing his hands up to cup Hugo’s face close to his own, deepening the kiss as it went on. When they finally split for air, there was a split second of pause, the two of them trying to memorize the other’s eyes.

 Hugo finally broke the quiet, dipping forwards to scoop Varian up into a bridal carry, spinning them both. Varian openly laughed at that, throwing his arms around the blond’s neck and pressing an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek. He blinked past a sudden rush of happy tears, hugging Hugo tight to him for as long as he could.

 Finally, he was home.

[slutsofren]

Hallo! Here’s my official request for some fluff with CEO! Kylo & Mistress for the time he tells her he loves her & his plans for the future :3

This one was super super fun to write but finding the words to put down was so difficult, im so so so sorry @bicthpotato but thank you dearly for your patience !!

Just Because I Love You

Summary: Kylo is in town to spend some time with you, you cannot wait for you two to take some time off and relax. Being the CEOs of your own companies was rough work so Kylo has a little speech for you.

General Info: CEO Kylo & Mistress AU, fluff, first time saying “I love you”, teasing, lots of teasing and sarcasm, light cursing, Kylo talking about his emotions?? whomst???

Read on AO3 here! Just under 2k. 

It was 4:00 on the dot, you knew you’d be able to slip out of the office easily at this time. Besides, you were the boss, who was going to stop you? Your employees knew better, each one went through your rather rigorous 60 day training period and if they lasted then they deserved all the benefits you were able to grant them. They were grateful to be here under your care just as much as you were grateful they helped create a loving work environment.

It helps being a powerful boss ass bitch. You wore that title proud.

What you also wore proud was the immaculate silver necklace around your neck with an elegant “K” charm dangling, catching the light of every room you walked into. It was the latest gift from Kylo, just because he missed you and wanted you to have a small piece of him with you in Los Angeles after you came home.

Your fingers fidgeted with the charm,  rubbing the “K” over and over. You looked at your watch once again, 4:05. You rose from your chair and rounded the desk, grabbing your work satchel and coat, flicking the light off behind you. Your assistant looked up from her computer, “Headed home early, ma’am?”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” you teased, “don’t call me ‘ma’am’ I’m not old.”

She let out a hearty laugh, “Of course, is there anything you’d like me to finish up, Miss?” You paused and thought for a moment but you couldn’t bear to think about work much longer.

“Do one thing and then you can go home, email each department to give everybody the rest of the day off.”

“On account of what, Miss?”

“On the account that I’m in a damn good mood and I’m going to see somebody that I’ve missed dearly.”

You gave her one last smile before continuing out of the office, a little hop found its way into your step echoing in the clinks of the darling heels you wore.

It’s been a couple months since you met the infamous Kylo Ren. You didn’t know who he was when you two met that fateful evening but after spending not just the night together but the following week with him, you knew he was somebody you wanted to continue keeping in your life.

In summary, the relationship the two of you cultivated was almost like two stars colliding in the galaxy and choosing to fly together. The choice to stay around each other, watching him with his explosive temper and him watching you in your cool rage, that choice made whatever you had with Kylo Ren feel powerful and unwavering.

After your time in New York with what you initially thought would be a fling, he visited you in California once before. After your second trip to New York, it was then that you knew in your heart that you were in it for the long haul.

It was nice, you thought as you drove down the busy Los Angeles freeways. You have an incredibly sexy date tonight and he is probably the sexiest man in the world.

You were eager to return home, hoping to see the man who invaded your thoughts soon. His plane was expected to land after it got dark and the two of you had planned a simple wine and dine on the balcony of your apartment. A nice cozy evening with one of the warmest souls you’ve ever met.

The apartment building you lived in was one of those that was lingering from old Hollywood, the art deco structure was an iconic look which made you love it from your first visit. It also helped the security on the building was top notch, something you’ve come to appreciate being a woman living by yourself.

“Honey, I’m home,” you said to no one as you entered your home, leaving your keys in a small bowl by the front door. As you removed your shoes by the doorway, you noticed there was a dark grey silk scarf on the coat rack, an item of clothing that was certainly not yours.

You ran your fingers over it, feeling its softness. After a moment you caught a whiff of the cologne that lightly came off it- it was distinctly Kylo. Your heart went into a flutter as your hands reached the bottom of the scarf where there was a black monogram KR embroidered on the rich material. That smile you had been forcing down finally spread wide across your face as you called his name loudly.

“Over here, little one,” his deep voice rang from outside your balcony. You took off your coat, throwing it off to some chair at your dining bar area. 

Kylo stood on the balcony, waiting for you leaning against the glass railing. He looked incredibly handsome standing there, the sun illuminated each and every single one of his beauty marks that you’d come to love tracing over with sweet kisses during moments of reprieve. His shirt was a tad bit ruffled, adding to his charm. Clearly a man who worked as fast as he could just to fly to your neck of the woods just as fast. 

You could hardly catch your breath as you took the few remaining steps that kept you from your lover, a truly decadent sweet. As your arms found themselves around his neck, his lips met yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. Nothing could be spoken that could mirror the joy in your heart, only the smile you felt sprawled on your face.

“Hey, handsome,” you spoke as you gazed up at Kylo.

He looked at you, letting his hands snake down to your hips, “Hey.”

The two of you kissed one more time before he grabbed one of your hands that was wrapped around his neck, he gave another kiss to the back of your hand. “A true gentleman,” you poked.

He let out a groan, “Quiet you, just sit in the damn chair, there’s something we need to talk about.” By the looks of his facial expression, you knew it was serious but nothing of concern, something that eased your mind for the time being. He led you by your hand, not once letting go and sat you down in one of the two chairs sitting on the balcony. You noticed that Kylo took the liberty of setting out your dinner plates for two on the table alongside fresh flowers, a colorful arrangement of carnations, daisies, baby’s breath, and roses. The mixture of reds and whites filled your heart with adoration for the gruff man in front of you.

Kylo always carried an air of aggression and being rough around the edges, something you’d easily recognize as his signature. It didn’t matter in the end, only that you’d know you’d never be subjected to the end of his red hot blade.

“So,” you edged him on, “Is it Bazine?” He shook his head. “Your mother,” you felt yourself grow cold. He shook his head again, saying nothing. Instead of words he sat down opposite of you and reached into his jacket pocket that hung around the back of his chair and grabbed something, a small box.

He passed it to you, a black box wrapped in a fine white silk ribbon. It was small, fit perfectly in the palm of your hand as you picked it up. “What’s this, Kylo? I’m sure I’ve told you time and time again not to get me gifts,” you laughed.

He looked away, resting back in his seat. “Just open the damned box already, brat.” You laughed again, knowing his little tantrum was a jest. Something you’ve grown to love about him.

The ribbon fell away easily, as if wanting nothing more than you to hurry and open the box too, you took a moment and glanced back to Kylo. His eyes grew dark as he covered his mouth with one of his hands, his eyebrows just as furrowed in hesitation. You could tell he was a bit anxious.

With a click, the little black box was open. Inside was a silver cuff bracelet. Simple, modest, and everything you could ever admire in a jewelry piece. “Oh, Kylo, I love it!”

“Keep looking at it,” his voice low.

A quick glance back down to your hands as you turned the cuff over and there it was, an inner engraving with a simple, “Just because I love you”. A phrase that instantly triggered tears of happiness well in your eyes. 

“You love me?”

He looked at you, astonished you could say such a thing and leaned forward, “Of course, why wouldn’t I? You’re incredible in a room, you command attention, your very essence demands respect.”

You looked back down at the cuff, admiring the words shine in the sunlight, “You sure know how to charm a lady,” you teased in a deadpan voice.

Kylo leaned back in his seat, noting the hints of playful sarcasm you emanated and let out a scoff, “You’re ruthless, little one. I just told you that I love you and your first instinct is to bust my balls.” You chuckled but continued to admire your gift. He whispered your name, calling you to look in his eyes. 

“You owe me nothing, and yet here we are. You waltzed into my life and after knowing the mess I’m in with Baz you stayed in my life, she’ll never forgive either of us for as long as she lives. Not to mention my own mother. You are a strong woman and you’ve seen the absolute terror I can be and yet here you are,” he paused, running his fingers through his hair.

“There is not a damn thing in this world that I wouldn’t change or do any differently if that meant I wouldn’t have met you in that restaurant. Fuck, go on a vacation, a long one, after I sign divorce papers, we could buy a whole new apartment in New York, one that Bazine will never step foot in and that could, I don’t fucking know, be an actual home for you and I. You’ve not a single clue just how much life and love you bring with you, and just how being around you makes me feel, I just-,” he pauses again, realizing he’s ranting, “I didn’t mean to go off on some big speech but what I wanted to say was that I love you, if you’d be willing to be in this fucked up version of a relationship with me for the foreseeable future and hopefully thereafter too, then maybe we can do that whole ‘let’s spend the rest of our lives together’ bullshit I’m always hearing about.”

This was the first time you’d ever heard Kylo Ren lay bare more than he ever had, admitting his own brash reactions, a mild hint at his own insecurities, and for the briefest of moments you were breathless.

Instead of choosing words, you hastily put the cuff on and stood from your chair taking two small steps to reach his noting how anxious he looked between your eyes and the newest addition to your jewelry set. You sat on his lap, taking a moment to caress his sharp jawline, “That was a lot of words to say I love you and you want to call me your girlfriend.”

He closed his eyes and threw his head back groaning, “Why are you like this!” 

You gave him a flourish of kisses all over his face, finally letting those tears from earlier fall, “Just because I love you too.”

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

All Is Found:Anastasia!AU

Part II – Journey to the Past

Fandom: The Witcher Word Count: 2,333 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @jill-makes-art​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me​ @kemmastan​ @mycat-is-mylove​ @amirahiddleston​  a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)

{prologue}{part i}

The ruins broke through the grey winter sky with its jagged edges. The building ached with a nostalgic sorrow that affected you deeply. Stained glass windows that must have been stunning in their prime were now faded and opaque with dirt and snow and ice. There was more of it standing than you’d expected though you could see that the roof must have largely been constructed of wooden beams, long ago burnt or rotted away. You clutched the pendant in your hand and though you’d only promised to see the palace, you found yourself drawn to it inexplicably. You climbed through the high snowdrifts, right up to a rotting wooden door that had swollen shut. You’d almost expected someone to be guarding it but it was lost to time. A waste when it could be restored, not for a new monarchy but to provide shelter to those without homes. You pulled at the door but it was stuck fast. The pull you felt to the palace had turned to something different, something insistent that told you that you had to find a way inside. On a whim you felt around the brickwork beneath the window and found a latch. It pulled open and the smell of rot and mildew was overwhelming but you wrapped your scarf around your nose and climbed inside, never pausing to wonder what may wait for you inside.

You wound through the musty passageways in the dark, finding your way with relative ease until you finally hit a dead end. There was the outline of a door and you shouldered it open into what had once been a bedroom. The bed was still there, at least the frame. Gilded in a past life and now as faded and forgotten to the ravages of time as the windows. No bedding remained, likely looted as well as anything that may have been in the large, overturned wardrobe. You climbed over it and were stilled for just a moment as something crunched beneath your feet and a familiar scent filled the air. You looked down to find a broken perfume bottle. You were surprised to find a tear rolling down your cheek and wiped it away, chalking it up to empathy as you considered who may have lived here. You hadn’t heard much about the former occupants of the house. That was from before New Nilfgaard’s time and it was hard to speak of it without calling it by its former name which the headmistresses were very careful about avoiding. Still as you walked the halls you couldn’t help but wonder at them. Had they deserved this? Somehow you hoped not. It may have made it easier to stomach, but it didn’t feel right.

As the floors went from carpet to marble you noticed rust colored stains along the door. You entered the largest room you’d ever seen, open to the heavens with the roof burned through. Snow fell, catching uneven beams of light that fell through the pieces of roofing still trying to hold on. In the middle of the room was a massive cluster of broken glass and candles, the closer you walked toward it, the more the rust stains grew and your stomach lurched as you realized what it was. Even amidst its destruction there was an odd beauty to the room. The flakes catching in the light could nearly be a chandelier of its own and it was easy for you to imagine what it may have looked like before. You could almost see the couples dancing around in sync, following the fluid motions of the dances. Perhaps a father danced with his child here in a room that had once been so filled with warmth and life. There were paintings on the wall still, either too large to steal or perhaps considered irrelevant after the House was overthrown. You spared them only a passing glance as you wove around the room, a little dance of your own as you tied to deftly move past broken chairs and pools of ice and slush. Your hand, still wrapped around the pendant, could feel your heart beating rapidly as it had been since you saw the building and you tried to reassure yourself that no one was watching this old ruin anymore. Nobody knew you existed, much less that you were here.

“Hey, you!”

You took off running without a look back. Looking back slowed you down and you were too clever for that. You raced up the nearest stairs but something urged you to look back and take one final glimpse at the ballroom.

“Stay right there!” the voice called as he saw you slow down. You had expected to turn and see a crowd of guards but this was no guard. You weren’t quite sure what he was, you had never seen clothes like the ones he wore and he carried a lute on his back, not a weapon. He walked now, approaching you with caution. You allowed yourself another look at the ballroom.

“I’m leaving,” you called to the man.

“It’s alright I’m not…” his words trailed away and his eyes, a color you couldn’t quite make out – blue or perhaps silver – found yours. They then glanced to the right of you and you turned to see what he was staring at so intently.

It was a portrait. It depicted a small family and though it was clear by the clothes they wore and the crowns on their heads that they had been royals, their faces didn’t look quite right for it. You had seen a portrait of the ruling house of Nilfgaard and they were austere and cold. The people in this portrait looked warm. Maybe it was just the talent of the artist and the way they depicted them. The little details like the way the father’s fingers intertwined with his wife’s or the way the child’s leg dangled off his lap, a casualness to the pose that made her seem real. You moved closer to the painting and wiped the dust away from the child’s eyes and though it was old and weather-worn the Y/E/C eyes were vibrant.

“Good gods,” a man breathed right beside you and you jumped back away. The man who’d followed you had crept up the stairs as you gazed at the portrait but he didn’t move to touch you. In fact he threw up his arms and took a step further back from you.

“I’m afraid I may have offered a bad first impression,” he said.

“Jaskier,” another voice called and this time when you turned to look you were certain this was the guard you’d feared. His black leather armor and two swords (excessive, frankly) and most of all the severe expression on his face (where those yellow eyes?) urged you to run but you were transfixed by the painting and by the way the man across from you kept looking at you like he wasn’t sure if you were a marvel or a ghost.

“Geralt it’s alright!” he called, “I was just introducing myself. Jaskier de Lettenhove.”

He offered a hand and you looked at it distrustfully until he withdrew it. He saw your eyes darting between him and Geralt and cursed that damn black leather armor again, though deep down he knew the man himself was just as intimidating as anything he could wear.

“Geralt is a friend of mine,” he explained.

“Who are you?” Geralt asked, speaking to you now in a voice that was brusque but not rude. You got the sense he wasn’t angry, he just wasn’t used to talking with people without it ending in confrontation.

“Isn’t it clear, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, nodding towards the painting, “She’s Y/N.”

“Yes I am,” you said, “But how the hell did you know that?”

Jaskier paled slightly and then his eyes nearly sparkled with excitement, looking back to his friend who slowly made his way up to the both of you. Once there his amber eyes scrutinized you and then the portrait and then looked at Jaskier in something a bit like fear.

“How did you…” he began, but Jaskier was already shrugging and shaking his head.

“Sorry, who do you think I am? How did you know my name? Why do you have so many swords?” you asked, your eyes flitting between Jaskier and Geralt, who rankled at the last question.

“Oh I beg your pardon, your highness, it’s not every day we meet royalty,” Jaskier replied smoothly. You glowered at him, knowing exactly what it meant when people called you ‘your highness.’

“I don’t have time for this,” you murmured, moving to turn away. Jaskier’s hand stilled your progress.

“Are you not Y/N?” he asked.

“Yes, but I’m of no consequence to you,” you replied.

“You’re of very significant consequence,” he argued, “Where have you been hiding?”

You glanced at the portrait that Geralt was staring at now while Jaskier’s eyes (blue, you could tell now for certain) stayed on you.

“Wait you don’t think…” your voice trailed off, unwilling to voice the ridiculous notion aloud.

“Ten years ago the child in this portrait, the heiress to the Toussaint throne, disappeared,” Jaskier said, his voice taking on the cadence of a storyteller. Your eyes fell back on the little girl in the portrait and your heart ached for her.

“How do you know she isn’t dead?” you asked, though you hated the idea that the little girl whose vibrant eyes looked out on the ruins of her home may not still have a chance. It felt like a foolish wish.

“She was helped out of the palace,” Jaskier answered simply, “But they lost trace of her in the escape. Her grandmother seeks her even now.”

“She has family,” you said, pulling the little pendant from the folds of your scarf and holding it tightly.

“Yes, she does. Sorry, what’s that?” he asked, pointing at your closed fist.

“Oh this is my necklace,” you said, “As sweet as the idea may be, I am no princess.”

“Sorry can I just…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small music box. He held it out to you but you just stared at it. No one gave things away for free.

“What’s that?”

“A music box. And perhaps the proof you need,” Jaskier said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, but your eyes stayed on the music box he held out in his hand.

“You say that you’re no princess. Tell me, where are you from?” he asked.

“Belhaven.”

“No one’s from Belhaven,” he argued.

“Well I am,” you snapped.

“No you’re not,” Geralt said, eyes on you once more. You’d never been good at lying and you felt panic rising in your chest as the two men stared at you.

“Fine. I don’t know where I’m from. I was found wandering the streets and they took me to Belhaven, the other homes were too full,” you replied.

“And when were you found?” Jaskier pressed.

“Ten years ago and don’t look at me like that! It’s utterly insane!” you cried, your voice echoing throughout the dilapidated space as Jaskier’s eyes brightened and a wide grin spread over his face.

“Just to be totally clear, and correct me if I get anything wrong-”

“I will,” you interjected. He smiled at you, a little smirk with barely hidden respect on his face.

“I know you will,” he said, “But here we have a woman who looks staggeringly like the child in this portrait, with the same name, who was found at the same time the princess was lost who possesses, if I’m not mistake, the other half to this box.”

He held it out again and you stared at it like a viper set to strike you. You weren’t quite sure what you were more afraid of it; if it were a lie that would raise your hopes or if it was the truth. If was true, this was more than you could ever had asked for. But it raised questions, too. And it meant you truly were an orphan. Maybe you had stepped in your own blood as you crossed the ballroom. Perhaps…

Your eyes rose to the man and woman in the portrait again, the man and woman who were that girl’s parents.

“What have you got to lose?” Jaskier breathed the question in a whisper. Slowly you reached out and took the little box from his hand with trembling fingers. You knew the moment you held it that would fit. You had the odd thought that it was lighter than you remembered but you couldn’t pretend that you did remember it. It was foreign to you and yet somehow you knew to press the top of the pendant into the box and wind the side. The box opened, a little slower than it might have at one time, and music played. You stared at the little figures dancing, their painted faces had been carefully maintained and you stared at them long after the music stopped. You stared until Jaskier reached out a hand and tenderly brushed a tear you hadn’t noticed fall from your cheek. It startled you and you looked into his eyes which were warm but eagerly awaiting something from you, you weren’t sure what. Confirmation or more denials or for a crown to sprout from your head.

“I don’t remember,” you admitted, glancing between Jaskier and Geralt, “I see what you’re seeing and I know why you’re saying it I suppose but… I don’t remember anything before 10 years ago. I wish I could be your lost princess but…”

“What are you afraid of, Y/N?” Jaskier asked.

You pulled the pendant apart and thrust the music box back in his hands before turning and running as fast you could, not sure where you were going but trusting yourself to find a way back outside. You heard Jaskier yelling your name but you didn’t look back.

You would never look back again.

[watchtheblog]

petty cache

thank you for coming to read my diary which masquerades as a blog but is actually just a vessel for disseminating my birthday wishlists. it’s like an event you show up to where the host tries to sell you a timeshare 25 minutes after some requisite, mindless song and dance.

welcome! if you’d like purchase a timeshare, scroll to the bottom. for the song and dance, look no further:

the other day i zoned out on zoom therapy and when my therapist asked where i “went” i had to lie because i had gone to the part of my brain that holds all the things i need to think about forever for no reason (i call it the petty cache — this is an umbrella term for the space that also houses my attitude cabinet) and dusted off a memory of a comment i saw on a stranger’s facebook three weeks ago that said “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”.

i don’t know either person, and that’s what i was thinking about. i spend $[redacted] a month on therapy and instead of focusing on one of my numerous unsolved mysteries, i was thinking about the nuances of this comment - like why they wouldn’t just share the news or message the person directly? or what losing their password had to do with anything? or why they would comment on facebook instead of texting or calling the person. did they not have their number? imagine not knowing someone well enough to have their phone number, but still wanting to share your good news with them!

all i want (for my birthday) is to know what the news is that this stranger has to share, and i’ll never know so i have to put that comment in my minutiae repository with all the other things that will plague me until i die from texting and driving, smoke inhalation as a result of purposely leaving a candle lit in my home overnight almost every night, consuming half a dozen hot dogs a week, or a now unnamed disease that will posthumously be attributed to my chronic inability to mind my own business.

i’m constantly concerning myself with things that are none of my concern - no matter how insignificant - because my brain is a commune of sentient pepperoni running instagram polls among themselves to discern if something is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about. and guess what? it turns out absolutely everything that has ever offended, confused, bothered, intrigued, slightly inconvenienced, or merely happened to me is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about.

because i devote so much energy to nonsense, i can often be found persecuting strangers for insulting me on the internet (and for other miscellaneous bad behavior). the information superhighway is my home so i have to protect myself (and my friends) here, and if that means spending 45 minutes to 48 hours trying to find every misstep you’ve made in your life until i have enough ammunition to spray a dozen simulated retaliatory bullets at your virtual head because you called me a “stupid bitch” on instagram, well… so be it!

i am relentless in my pursuit of wasting time, so if that doesn’t work, i will find the cold stone creamery you frequent, seek employment there, be hired on the spot, learn the craft, be promoted to manager, poison you on your birthday, gain access to your funeral, and tarnish your reputation by reading your shitty DM in front of the few family and friends whom i haven’t already made aware of the abhorrent way you conducted yourself online!

there are so many different ways strangers will try to hurt your feelings — an interesting genre of which come from men who (like me) have definitely never had sex before, and mistakenly think i care about the ways in which my body does not make them horny.

“no tits” one will say. and i’m like, how do you want me to respond to that? my boobs are indeed small, yes. did you come here to shoot facts back and forth all day? ok: you’re going to start balding way sooner than you’re prepared for, i bet your childhood dog is dead, your time on the internet should be supervised, your closet is full of vests, and you wait on line at nightclubs… good day?!

while i will obviously engage with anyone if they want to fight, i prefer when the unsolicited criticism is personalized, and not just thoughtless, lazily devised tripe.

a year and a half ago, a man who looked like he exhales smog DMed me to let me know - among other things in a paragraph long rant - he’d “lost brain cells” watching my story. knowing he had likely never had an adequate amount to begin with, it seemed like an emergency, so i started a group DM with his wife. because his message had come just three days after a “fuckkk [heart eye emoji]” response to a photo of my ass, i included a screenshot as evidence of his devolving mental state.

being - presumably - gainfully employed, neither of them responded.

luckily, the consolation prize for insulting me is that you gain residency in my brain and stay in my thoughts and prayers for all eternity, so i checked in on them a few days ago. they’d unfollowed and wiped their feeds clean of each other!!

because i’ve never “moved on” in my entire life, i fired up our long dormant group chat, and sent my condolences: “aw. sorry your trip to positano - where you were going to attempt to repair your ramshackle marriage - got cancelled because of covid and so you just got divorced instead :(” i wrote before being blocked by both of them. 

then i headed right over to my therapist’s facebook and commented “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”

i spent an entire therapy session detailing this monomania before my therapist thoughtfully suggested i “pick [my] battles”.

to which i thoughtfully responded: yeah, babe. i pick every single one.

                                                        ***

timeshare time! it’s the same list as this post, with a few additions (at top) (and edits based on availability).

places to donate food education fund pretty brown girl the okra project

some furniture stuff a side table  a pointless, laughably tiny little thing this website is calling a “drink table” a lamp one of these benches i do not want this but it’s important to me that at least 2 other people know it exists

this plant that obviously does not need to cost $165 but idk how to shop economically

air pods

gifts from the previous post - all still v much in play!

a pair of shoes (size 8 or 38) one pair, another pair, yet another, these are on sale, these are not, and a final pair

a specific clutch with three color choices they allege this color is called sand but it looks white to me, pink, green for those who do not know what malachite means (it couldn’t be me. i learned it 3 hours ago when i began compiling this cursed list)

something everyone with money to waste needs this

dresses i’ll never be able to wear until there’s a vaccine because unlike someone tacky who knows me, i won’t be having a birthday party in the middle of a global pandemic (hi, you fool) white polka dot, not white polka dot, also not polka dot, a red dress, a skirt (aka half a dress), a black dress

this sweatsuit xs in this, small in this

is sephora cancelled? i want this hair dryer which i’m sure you can buy elsewhere if sephora is cancelled, which it v well may be

this item which you may think is cheap but actually it’s not soooo a hairpin

earrings one pair, another pair, and another

this dress which i’ll never wear anywhere even when there is a vaccine because… what?! but maybe. you never know. size 34. lol when i get this far into the list i’m always blown away by how insane it is that i do this every year to no audience. so i’m just laughing alone at that. :) i am v funny to myself. another dress i’ll never wear ;)

the nicest weighted blanket you know of i’m depressed!!!!! if you can’t tell!!!!!!!

every year i have asked for a weekend bag and every year i have not received one, so alas, we try again this is not a weekend bag actually but it will do. this is!

a peloton but just venmo me the cash (@merce212) because i have a hookup

an assortment of ridiculous things a $500 body scarf a $580 beach towel with an octopus on it for no reason besides “art” i cannot tell analog time but it’s never too late to start!! how mad would you be if someone bought you a roulette table for your wrist? be honest. (THIS WATCH IS FOUR YEARS RENT!!!!!!) they won’t say how much this costs :( i’m losing my mind and must be gifted a chanel watch or else i will perish. to put my salami on when i am eating salami in my bed “24k gold crocodile [?!!) teddy bear”. the website says there’s only one left, which begs the question “why did someone buy one of these rather than buying me a chanel watch?!!” *real ‘billionaires shouldn’t exist [unless they’re buying me a watch]’ energy* to put my new watch in this is ugly but it’s on sale :) idk wtf “secret box pendant” means but i wish this necklace was also a USB with every season and spinoff of 90 day fiancé on it hi yes i’m stupid but i draw the line at $1500 connect four…

[sprnklersplashes]

not beyond repair (18/20)

AO3

“So my mom made a proposal,” Veronica announces. She’s leaning against JD’s chest, the two of them half-lying on the grass outside their school and their hands joined and his arm around her shoulders. His cheek rubs against her hair gently, and her thumb strokes the back of his hand. The weather is as close to perfect as Sherwood, Ohio ever gets; the sky is as blue as the blazer she’s sitting on and the grass is so perfect it looks like it’s out of a cartoon. There’s a warm buzz in the air that’s practically tangible, weaving its way into Westerberg High life and turning what were sad-eyed, sullen and slow walking teenagers into bouncing, giggling little messes. The sweetness of summer and freedom is so close they can almost touch it, and for the seniors, that means graduation is closer than ever, something they wouldn’t be able to forget even without the constant announcements of caps and gowns, extra credits and practice ceremonies.

Veronica’s still not sure how she feels about it.

“What?” Martha asks, Heather’s head in her lap and her fingers running through the other girl’s hair.

“It’s this graduation party at my house,” she explains. “My parents had it planned for months and it was just going to be my family.” Martha nods, having already known about it. It would go without saying that family includes her. “But my mom asked last night if you guys wanted to come.” She nudges JD gently in the ribs and nods over at Macnamara, pulling some blades of grass out of the ground. “And your parents can come too if they want. What do you say?”

“I say ‘hell yeah’!” Heather squeaks apparently rejuvenated after being half asleep for most of their lunch hour. “I mean, I don’t know for sure if my parents can come, but I’m definitely going.” Martha kisses her finger and taps Heather’s nose with it, making her scrunch up her face in a way that makes Veronica want to reach over and squish her cheeks. It’s getting harder and harder to make the connection between Heather Macnamara-head-cheerleader-whose-dad-is-loaded-and-who-would-ace-blackmail-if-it-were-a-class and Heather Macnamara-her-best-friend’s-girlfriend-who-doodles-flowers-in-notebooks-and-helps-colour-code-her-flashcards. Back in the day, Heather was definitely the one of the group she got along the most with and was the closest to what she would call a real friend, but even then it felt like there was a sheet of plastic between the two of them and stopping any real bonding. But now, Veronica’s squeezing her hand and shooting little finger guns at her like they’ve been doing it all their lives.

“J?” she asks, pulling his hand into his lap to play with his fingers. “Are you in?”

“Of course I’m in,” he replies, kissing the top of her head and hugging her tighter. The corners of her mouth turn up as he nuzzles into her. “I wouldn’t miss it.” She hums contentedly and continues idly playing with his hand. “So your entire family?”

“More or less,” she sighs. “Perks of being an only child, your parents decide to put all the effort into you.” She squeezes his hand and leans back into his embrace. “That’s why I need you guys there. So I don’t go insane with my extended family.”

“And there I was thinking you actually liked our company,” JD jokes.

“Eh, you’re okay,” she answers teasingly before tilting her head back and planting a kiss on his jaw. She checks the time with a pained groan, bumping her head against JD’s chest before wriggling out of his hold, which isn’t easy considering how he’s tangled himself around her. “Come on. I still have to go to my locker.”

“Me too,” Martha agrees, gently shaking Heather awake. The other girl pouts as she follows Martha to her feet, even if it lessens a little when Martha presses a whispered kiss to her cheek. She rests her cheek on her shoulder as they walk back into school, their bodies pressed close together and their hands clasped. If anyone notices, they think nothing of it.

Inside, kids are sitting on window ledges or cross legged against the walls, jackets off and the freshman girls with their sleeves rolled up to compare tans. It’s Ohio, after all, the first spot of sunshine does insane things to one’s mind. Especially since the weatherman and the growing clouds promise it won’t last.

“Oh, nice,” Veronica sighs, coming to her locker. Someone from prom committee stuck a flyer on it, reminding them of the upcoming event. At least it’s a poster and not an insult, she tells herself as she opens her locker and starts exchanging books.

“Well that’s one way to show school spirit,” JD remarks, taking the flyer off the door and examining it. “If a little tacky.”

“You think prom is tacky?” Veronica asks, ducking her head so he won’t see her face fall.

“Not prom,” he replies. “The amount of glitter on this poster.” She brightens at that, her calm restoring as she closes the locker and takes his hand to pull his arm around her. “I guess the freshman art club lent a hand.”

“Oh, that reminds me, Martha what colour’s your dress going to be?” Heather asks, swinging their hands together. “Because I don’t want us to clash, but I’ve already got my eye on a few.”

“Oh… I don’t know,” Martha replies, scratching behind her ear. “I guess I haven’t looked at any yet. But you should wear what you want.”

“But since you’re my date, I don’t want to wear the same colour as you,” she sighs, her chin leaning on her fist and her mouth screwed the way it normally is when she’s thinking hard.

“Well, why don’t you show me what you’re choosing from when I’m at your house on Friday,” she suggests, rolling her eyes just enough for Veronica alone to notice. “That way I cane make sure I don’t clash with you.”

“Okay!” she beams, her worries flying out of her head. She shares a gentle smile with Martha and their hands brush against each other’s.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Martha says, turning to JD and Veronica as they come to the bottom of the stairs.

“See you later kids,” Veronica replies.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” JD adds, earning him another poke in the chest from Veronica. It can’t have been more than slight pressure, but he lets out a squeak and rubs his ribcage with a pout.

“I should fear for my safety around you and your elbows,” he remarks, twirling her under his arm as they start in the direction of their class. He swings their joined hands slowly, a slight frown on his face. “So… about the prom… do I need to know what colour your dress is? Or am I not allowed to know anything about it until the big night?”

“I think you’re confusing it with a wedding, J,” she says. “I guess not. Why would you need to know?”

“Well if you’re my date, don’t I need to buy you a matching corsage?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Okay, let me try this,” he begins. “Since you are my wonderful girlfriend, who I love and to whom I want to give the most amazing prom experience she could ever wish for, shouldn’t I need to buy you a corsage?”

“You’re sweet,” she giggles. Sweet is an understatement really. “You don’t need to.” She looks up just in time to see his smile faltering, so slight and changed so suddenly anyone who didn’t know him like she did would think they imagined it. So she squeezes his hand, losing this battle with no qualms. “But if you want to… I might go with something blue.” She tugs on her blazer. “My lucky colour, I guess.”

“You always look beautiful in blue,” he tells her warmly. She leans her pink cheek against his shoulder, slightly conscious of the eyes of passers-by, even though Fleming isn’t around and hardly anyone from their grade is either.

“I didn’t think you were into prom,” she remarks.

“You didn’t?”

“Just, you never mentioned it,” she replies, slightly regretting it now, even if his amused grin should put her at ease. “We never talked about it.”

“I just…” He trails off and after a moment’s hesitation, pulls her over to the window ledge, sitting up with one leg curled underneath him. He takes her hand as she sits beside him, running his thumb over her knuckles and his face creased in gentle confusion. “I just assumed we were going together.”

“Yeah,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s stupid.”

“Ronnie-”

“Well, I just don’t really know how all this works,” she says. “Even now. You’re my first boyfriend and this is my first time going to a dance with a boyfriend.” She shrugs, toying with the chain of her necklace. “My only reference is romance movies and I don’t think they’re entirely realistic.”

“Aw.” He tickles her cheek and under her chin, making squirm and swipe her hands at him.

“Don’t aww me,” she tells him, shaking her head fondly.

“So… were you expecting me to ask you to prom?” he asks with a grin.

“A bit redundant now.”

“Not the question.” She rolls her eyes, looking over at him. Her JD, his hair pushed back, his eyes sparkling as he waits for her to answer. He almost looks excited, her dork of a boyfriend asking permission to ask her to prom.

It’s moments like this that remind her what being in love is.

“Yes, then.” Although she begins to regret her decision, when he gets up, swirling around in a grand fashion and making the sophomore girls across the hall from them look up from the homework they’re working on last minute.

“J-”

“Sh,” he commands, holding his hand up. She leans back against the window, laughter breaking through her falsely unamused exterior. JD clears his throats and takes in a deep breath, beginning with a straight back and a facial expression to rival Mr Darcy. “Miss Veronica Sawyer. Since the day I laid eyes on you in seventh grade, I knew you were the one for me. You captivated me with your mismatched scarf and your jean jacket, and I knew I wanted to stare into your… into the endless pools of your eyes forever.” She buries her face in her hands, her face red from embarrassment and from holding back her laughter. “And now that we have found each other again, I must ask you a most serious question.”

“Okay what are you and Claire watching?” she asks him between laughs, shaking her head fondly.

When he gets down on one knee, she loses control entirely, barely managing to prop herself up on her elbow all while looking at his completely too serious expression.

“Veronica Sawyer, will you be my date to the prom?” he asks with shining eyes, struggling to keep himself composed as well.

“Oh my God.” She buries her face in her hand, trying to catch her breath and pull herself upright. Every time she’s close to it, she falls again as her cackle continues to echo down the hall. There’s an ache in her chest and God does she love it. “You’re such a dick.”

“I might be a dick, but I’m a dick who is on my knee here,” he reminds her. “And this position is not comfortable, so…”

“Yes,” she interrupts, taking his hand and pulling him up. “Yes, I will go to prom with you.” He pulls her up against him, rubbing their noses together. Her toes tingle as she curls her fingers into his jacket, giggling against him. “You’re such a loser.”

“Oh really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. She presses her finger lightly against the dimple in his cheek.

“Yep,” she replies, running her fingers through his hair. “Big, dumb, sappy romantic loser.” She presses a short and sweet kiss to his lips. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stop smiling, nor could she chase away that giddy warmth in her chest. “That I am very lucky to have.”

                                                                                               *****

Veronica has thought about her dream prom dress more times than she would care to admit. Less now, of course, but in her preteen and early high school days, most of her daydreams involved finding her perfect dress, having her hair done and coming down the stairs looking like a princess, preferably with a wide-eyed boy at the bottom of the stairs. That fantasy was discarded as she grew older and wiser and her classmates became beasts that even she couldn’t ignore. But for a year or two, the idea of her perfect prom had kept her young imagination entertained and active for hours.

So when she walks into the dress store for the first time, she doesn’t mind the flurry of excitement in her chest. She almost feels like her twelve year old self is beside her, holding her hand and jumping up and down as they enter. With its spotless white carpet, sky-blue walls and the silver lights twisted into intricate and enchanting patterns, her own little hometown seems a world away.  

“So Heather said she’s either going to wear yellow or white,” Martha says, running her hand along the rack of dresses, pulling at the ones that catch her eye. “So I can’t wear anything that clashes with that.”

“I’ll place bets on her wearing yellow.” Veronica pulls one off the rack, pale pink and thin straps, the top covered in tiny flowers. Holding it up, the lights shine through the net skirt and the flower petals impossibly soft between her fingers.

“That’s pretty.”

“Yeah, it is. Go try it on.” She takes it off the rack and presses it into her best friend’s arms, chuckling somewhat proudly at the confused expression on her face.

“You’re not getting it?” she asks.

“Nope,” she replies, shaking her head. “Pink doesn’t really work for me. Works for you though.” She winks, pulling her into the changing rooms and falls back into one of the white wicker chairs, her long legs dangling over the edge. “Now go. Be pretty.”

She does look pretty in that dress, even as she crosses her arms over her chest and pulls herself inwards, her eyes wide and anxious and silently pleading as she looks over at Veronica.

There’s a strange mixture of anger and compassion in Veronica’s heart. She thought that at this point, maybe she’d gotten over it, but she still finds herself clenching her fist when she’s reminded of how Martha views herself, and who exactly is responsible for it.

And then there’s guilt. A little punch of guilt that comes in, right in the middle of everything. The price of popularity, however temporary, she thinks.

“You look amazing,” she tells her, standing up and taking her hands. Sincerity creeps into Martha’s smile and hope into her eyes as Veronica admires her on her own before twirling her around to face her reflection in the full length mirror. The Veronica in the mirror rests her chin on her Martha’s shoulder, her arms coming around her waist and squeezing tightly. “So…”

“I…” Martha toys with the straps, shifting nervously on her feet. “I don’t know.” She runs her hand down the skirt with a shrug and squeezes her waist. “I mean, it’s pretty. I just don’t know if it’s for me.”

“Okay.” She takes hold of Martha’s hand. She looks stunning in it, but she doesn’t want to press. If it’s not for her, it’s not for her, she reasons. “There’s still a shot load of dresses out there to choose from.”

“For you too,” Martha reminds her with a poke in the chest. “You’re not getting out of this.”

“Wouldn’t ever dream of it,” she replies, giggling, the twelve year old taking over with almost no resistance from her. She follows Martha out of the changing room with bouncy little steps and a light tingle in her chest. Her cheeks start to hurt as she tries to school her features and give a calm front in front of the other patrons, but by the time Martha starts lifting dresses and raising her eyebrows suggestively at her, they can think she’s mad for all she cares. Together, they twirl around and get lost in the world of glittering skirts and spaghetti straps, playing at being princesses in the mirror and matching dresses to shoes to bags. If she closed her eyes, Veronica might be able to think she was back in her bedroom, adjusting a tiara on Martha’s head and tripping over a too-long skirt.

“Hey, this would look really good on you,” Martha suggests, lifting a dark blue one off the rack and holding it up against her, tilting Veronica’s chin up to get a better look of it. “Are you going to wear that necklace to prom?”

“What, this one?” she asks, touching the ever-present butterfly at the case of her throat. “I… don’t know. Maybe. I never really thought about it. Sometimes I sort of forget I even have it on.”

“You should,” Martha tells her. “It’s pretty. And it would look really pretty with this dress.”

“You know, I sort of feel like you’re pushing me in the direction of this dress,” she remarks, taking it off her. It is lovely, a shade or two darker than her necklace and silver sequins clustered around the waist. She finds that the more she looks at it, the more she likes it, with minute details calling out to her, one being the impossibly soft material of the skirt beneath her fingers and the pattern weaved by the little diamonds along the single strap.

In fact, she’s so busy being captivated by it that she doesn’t even register the bell ringing as the door opens, nor does she pick up on the new customers until she catches a flash of a red blazer approaching her.

Yet strangely, she doesn’t crumple in on herself the way she used to, nor is she overcome by a desire to impress. She definitely doesn’t look at them with a wistful awe like she did in her pre-Heathers days. Instead, she merely smiles in Heather’s direction, even as Martha stiffens a little beside her.

“Are you… getting that?” Chandler asks. It’s only when Veronica looks up she sees Duke behind her, holding plastic-covered dress close to her chest, her lips rolled into a thin line and her eyes trained on the floor. She’s seen Duke looking like that before, in the privacy of a bathroom cubicle, where she thinks Veronica can’t see her.

“Yeah… probably,” she answers, looking down at it again. She reaches out and taps the back of Martha’s hand gently, brushing her fingers against hers.

“Well…” Here we go. “You should. It’s pretty.”

Wait, what?

When she looks up again, she doesn’t find the poison-laced smile and raised eyebrows she’s come to associate with compliments from Heather Chandler. Instead, she offers an offhand shrug, her face halfway to a smile. A real one too, even if it look false on her face.

“Thanks,” Veronica says. Heather nods, drumming her fingertips on her arms. Behind her, Duke takes a deep breath, her face softer than Veronica’s ever seen it, before tugging on Chandler’s elbow.

“Mac isn’t with you?” Duke asks just as they’re turning to leave. It comes out so quickly and haphazardly that it all sounds like one word and Veronica takes a moment to sort through and separate it into something coherent. Even Chandler seems surprised at what she said.

“She didn’t want to see what I was wearing,” Martha answers. “She wants to be surprised.”

“Oh,” is all she says, nodding quickly and holding her own dress tighter.

Thankfully, they take the tight, tense air with them as they leave, their heels hitting the floor in a confident rhythm that doesn’t match their fidgeting fingers and unsure faces.

“Are you okay?” Veronica asks, noticing Martha’s eyes following the two of them out the door.

“Yeah,” she says, turning back to the rack with an unfamiliar determination and picking one off, one she had hastily dismissed mere minutes earlier with a wistful look down at herself. Now she holds it up in front of her, taking in a long, deep breath, her jaw set. “I’m going to try this one on.”

“Really?” she asks, breaking into a smile. Martha nods, a spark in her eye that Veronica hadn’t realised she had missed until now. “Good.”

She’s just pulled the single strap of the dress over her shoulder when Martha knocks on the door, quick and apprehensive and tinged with impatience. Despite the door between them, she can almost see her beaming smile and wringing hands, see her biting her lip like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“Come on. I don’t want to look in the mirror without you.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” she laughs, shaking her head a little and running her hand down the skirt. From her perspective, it’s pretty perfect, but she’s looking from the neck down. She tucks the label in, pulls it down one last time and steps out, met with a sight that makes her catch her breath.

“Woah,” they say at the same time. If it was the Heathers’ arrival that made Martha pick that dress, then thank God for them, because it’s amazing. Pink and purple flowers are weaved onto the white fabric, her hair falling over her bare shoulders, a deep purple ribbon around her waist and a full, flowing skirt. It’s uniquely Martha, she thinks, like God hand-picked that dress for her.

“You look amazing,” Veronica breathes, gently taking her arm and moving it away so she can look at it properly. Martha looks down, half hiding her smile.

“You should see yourself,” She responds, taking Veronica’s hand and turning her around to face the full-length mirror.

The girl in her reflection looks everything and nothing like her. Same long limbs and pale skin, big brown eyes and dark hair she can never truly get under control. Everything is the same as when she left the house that morning, except for the fact that she’s in the most lovely thing she’s ever worn and might ever wear in her life. Everything she loved about it on the hanger comes alive on her, the diamonds on the top winking at her every time she moves, the ruffles on the skirt move like ripples on a lake and when she turns it spins around her, floating on the air and pulsing like butterfly wings.

She lets herself be arrogant for a moment and appreciate the colour against her skin, how the skirt hugs her waist before flowing outwards. She lets herself think ‘damn’ and turn around a little to look at the back, lets herself be in love with the way it shimmers under the overhead lights. She lets herself smile and gasp and be excited for herself. She lets herself believe she looks beautiful, and she won’t feel bad for it.

“Told you,” Martha says, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “You think this is it?” Veronica takes her hand and wraps her other arm around Martha’s shoulder, smiling back at their reflections.

“Yeah, I think it is.” She squeezes her best friend’s shoulders tightly, rocking them a little. “As long as you’re getting that one too.”

“I think I am,” she says, pulling at the skirt again, half-gasping and half-laughing. Martha’s never been one to hide her feelings, but she probably couldn’t now even if she wanted to. Neither could Veronica. They exit the store with broad grins and borderline infectious giggles, their dresses neatly folded in white paper bags, throwing suggestions for shoes and accessories like they’re frivolous pieces of paper as they bounce along the streets.

The twinge of sadness kindly doesn’t make itself known until she returns home. But when it does, she feels it.

Dear diary, Veronica writes that night, retreating to the best source of comfort she knows. She looks over at her wardrobe, where her prom dress sits in wait, a plastic sheet protecting it from any dirt or dust that might dare to spoil it. She clicks her pen in and out again. I’ve spent my entire life waiting for the day I leave. I started researching colleges when I was fifteen. I knew where I wanted to go when I was sixteen. I threw all that work into getting out when I was seventeen. And now I’m eighteen and all I want to do now is stay.

She turns her head, not sure why until she catches sight of two of the photos on her nightstand. One of her and Martha eating ice cream cones on the beach in the era of braces and bad hair, one of her and JD, her sitting behind him and kissing his head while he laughs at something. She turns the photos over in her hands, both memories just about clear in her head, and takes a deep breath.

I changed this year, she writes. More than I thought I could. Everyone did. The Heathers leave us alone for one. Martha has a girlfriend now and I’m in love with JD, and I’m happy. I never wasn’t, but it’s a new kind of happy. I guess I didn’t realise it existed until I had it. She chews on the edge of her pen, breathing through the heavy weight sitting in her chest. She doesn’t feel like crying, not exactly, but when she looks up on her calendar and sees the days marked until graduation, there’s a flash of panic inside her, followed by a little melancholic kick. She looks out at the town she grew up in, one that for better or worse has marked her soul. A car ride away is the girl who’s held her hand since before she could walk and the boy who now holds her heart. And while she doesn’t regret applying to college, she starts to wish that it wasn’t so soon. And I don’t want it all to end yet.

[caustic-synishade]

Prisoner of the Darkness

Chapter 9: Rewards

Mark’s been a good boy...

Mark clung to the little bit of self awareness he still had. He was losing himself and he couldn’t help it. Rather quickly, he was slipping into a deep depression and he couldn’t pull himself out of it. The man thought he’d be able to handle the physical pain, but he wasn’t prepared for the psychological torment. Mark thought he’d be able to thwart his captor’s attempts to put him down with his own sass and strong will. But he broke. He was a mess and he just couldn’t fix himself. 

Dehumanized. Demeaned. Mocked. He was terrified of the repercussions of fighting back, so he just… gave in. After having his only friend in this hell destroyed by his own hands… He didn’t think he could slip farther down into that pit than he already had. His captor was winning. He was getting just what he wanted. And Mark just didn’t have it in him to fight anymore.

Training had been hell. Forced to do things he didn’t want to do, work for this man, this demon, this doppelganger. Do things like a dog, just to entertain this sick fuck. Mark was no more than an animal in this thing’s eyes. A pet, not even that. An object. 

“Dance,” Damien commanded. 

Mark’s outfit was patched up and his arms and legs were encased in cuffs and chains once more, but he was no longer chained to the floor. He hesitated before Damien raised the whip again, quickly swaying his body in a pathetic excuse of a dance. 

“Better,” Damien snapped, striking the whip near Mark’s body, not hitting him. 

Mark gulped, proceeding to dance for the man. His face was flushed as he tried his best to dance in the chains. They clinked together, creating some improv music of suffering for him. Damien observed him like he was observing a piece of art, one hand on his hip and the other on his chin. He chuckled, proceeding to dance himself, swaying his body slightly and spinning. 

“Good, good,” Damien complimented his prisoner, “Excellent. Your training is going well! Maybe I’ll have to treat you to something nice.”

The man’s ears perked up. Something nice? Would it really be something nice? Or would it be another trick? As he danced for the demonic thing, he pondered the meaning of that sentence. Something nice… Something nice… 

…

“Surprise!!” Damien yelled cheerfully. 

Mark awoke, startled. He had been chained back into the far wing again. For a moment, he scurried away from the sound, before noticing the peculiar detail. The suited man was wearing a birthday cap. 

“Happy Birthday!” Damien smiled brightly, shoving a pink wrapped present into Mark’s hands.

“B-Birthday? Has it… ?” Mark’s voice was sleepy and confused.

“Yes! It’s your birthday and you’ve been such a good boy, I decided to get you something really nice. I hope you like it! Oh! And least I forget…” the double hurried to the door of the dungeon and quickly returned with a cake, “It’s chocolate!”

Mark was hesitant, holding the box and looking at the cake. His captor was being kind. He had been good, hadn’t he? Yeah…

“Well? Open it up!” Damien urged, not a hint of malice in his voice. 

Mark stared at the pink wrapping and noticed the little mustaches on it. Slowly, he tore the wrapping off, revealing a cardboard box. He pried open the cardboard flaps and searched through the tissue paper inside. He found a golden necklace in the shape of a heart. Mark recognized it as a locket necklace. His fingers shook as he pulled open the heart, a pang of pain hitting him. There was a picture of Amy. A picture he didn’t remember. So he figured it must have been new.

“Don’t worry, you can keep this one close to your heart. You’ve been good!” Damien reassured him, setting down the cake, “Now come on, have a piece.”

“Thank you…” Mark whispered, looking up shyly at his captor. That’s all he could muster to say.

Damien quickly cut a piece of cake for Mark and urged him to take it. Mark did, picking it up with his hands. He gently took a bite, surprised at how good it was. It was fluffy and soft, maybe something he shouldn’t have had after days of not eating, but it was food nonetheless. 

“This is… really good…” Mark commented, smiling softly for the first time in a long time.

“Good! It’s homemade. Made with love!” the double cheered, “I’ll leave the cake here so you can eat as much as you want! It’s all yours.”

Mark was thankful. Kindness was well needed. Once left alone, he scarfed down the cake like an animal, happy to have something nice.

…

Food was given regularly now, and Mark’s weight was returning to normal. Obeying his captor rewarded him with kinder treatment as was promised. And the man was quite thankful. The various torture devices were still just feet away and Damien loomed that threat over his head daily, but there was no need if Mark simply obeyed.

Mark stared at the locket. Stared at Amy’s happy smiling face. Genuine happiness. And here he was, imprisoned and being trained to be a slave to a demon. His heart skipped seeing her, and he was actually thankful for the present. It was nice to see her okay, happy. Even without him… 

Damien entered the room, “How’s my Mark doing today?”

Mark scurried to hide the locket, afraid that Damien would take it back.

“Oh Mark, that’s yours. You don’t have to hide it,” The double frowned softly, “I got you something else!”

The prisoner looked up, seeing Damien had his hands in his pockets. He felt anxiety and excitement, maybe it would be something nice, maybe another nice gift. That’s when his captor pulled out a pink collar with a little mustache pendant on it. Mark’s heart dropped. Oh…

“You don’t like it? I figured it was nicer than that old metal collar. And it’s your favourite color! I thought you’d like the mustache…” Damien appeared saddened by Mark’s reaction.

“No, no, it’s.. Nice. Thank you…” Mark wasn’t sure if he was talking himself or something possessed him to speak instead. 

Damien perked up, smiling again, “Let’s get that old thing off of you and get this nicer one on.”

The collar was significantly nicer. It was soft and warm and oddly comforting… It was Mark’s. It belonged to him now. He had another possession besides the locket and the ripped up stuffed animal. He felt a switch in his brain being thrown. This was his. His.

“There we go!” Damien pulled the collar of Mark’s shirt over the pink collar after locking the chain on the new collar, “It’s much nicer than that other one. And hopefully it’s more comfortable.”

“It is,” Mark brushed the collar with his fingers. 

“Good,” his captor smiled.

[wellntruly]

KILLING EVE - S2 Ep 3 & 4

We’re back to S1-style doubles because somehow I lost track of posting my 2x03 watch-notes last week!

Anyway I’m still watching three different shows right now, and this is the one that I most wish I could just watch another episode of immediately. It’s very addictive 4 me. There’s just something about a spy-crime show set in broad daylight that’s just great actresses in incredible costumes delivering big, silly, sincere performances to a score of moody, stylish lady-ballads. I could watch this: forever.

Season 2, Episode 3 - ‘The Hungry Caterpillar’

oh I APPRECIATE the seamless editing from the Previously On to this episode, nice. usually someone besides the show editors cuts the Previously Ons (which is why Mad Men’s were so fucking perfect, because then Matt Weiner would go back through and take out everything he thought was too revealing and basically turned them into Dadaist black out poetry)

aw oh no his daughter. “Change the subject,” that was so bluntly endearing.

Konstantin: “She gets into your brain, she eats you up to make space for herself.” DANG. GOOD ANALYSIS.

“Look what happens to people she loves. She loves you to death.” aahhhh! listen I love new Scarf Philosopher Konstantin

Jodie Comer does so. many. accents.

she’s so happy to get back into it, aw murder kitten

I’m pretty sure that woman paused with Villanelle on the sidewalk and didn’t start walking toward her again until she started first — the Ghost???

Villanelle just judged this man for day drinking and it was hilarious

Villanelle’s conception of “boring and discrete” is to strangle a man with his own tie held outside a rising elevator

what’s terrible Raymond’s game here. he’s deliberately making Villanelle paranoid that Eve will forget about her and jealous and resentful of the Ghost — how does this help The Twelve, or whatever they’re called? this just feels like it’s courting messiness!

a) good lord posh boy, you tool b) the acting here just elegantly articulated the different ways men and women respond negatively to a skeevy sexist comment: Eve and Tess both turned to level an unamused look at him, and Kenny turned away to level an unamused look into the middle distance. the women shamed him with their attention, the man with his lack of it. THIS IS FASCINATING.

“~Add~it~to~the~bill~”

constantly chuffed at what a direct continuation this is from John le Carré—now the spies are sharing how they were personally recruiting out of university due to their language skills and Vague Other Qualites

ohhhhh shit, Villanelle’s trying to take out Niko!!! like socio-politically take out

is she…making macaroni art

she made a macaroni art NECKLACE. Villanelle’s attention to detail…..

damn Eve, that blue dress IS sexy

goodness SAKES this woman is awkward

it’s interesting that she seems to think Eve won’t see through all of this. I mean obviously Niko won’t, she’s fine there, but you’re supposed to adjust when other women are around

Carolyn’s house infuriates me, these windows...want

holy shit Carolyn. holy shit. she’s the perfect spy. she’s always been careful, about loving her family. aaahhhhh

she has Sam Neill’s wine!!! staaahp, Sam Neill The Actor exists in this universe

Niko is flirting with Eve by ALSO talking about which male math legends he thinks is most fuckable

LIPstick. I really really like the flirting-through-murder I’m not gonna lie. it’s like Hannibal but hyper-literal instead of just the world’s most textual subtext, and also, I don’t know, I kinda find this emotional honesty refreshing, because Villanelle and Eve are so blatant and showing how much you care is kinda uncool? like, this show is obviously super stylish, but there is not much aesthetic posturing to hide behind when you’re just straight up sending someone you have a crush on lipstick love notes. I don’t know this is hard to really explain. but I feel it.

aw, kinda burned that relationship with Kenny didn’t ya Eve

Konstantin, or Konstant-ly wearing scarves

well who does that mean!

why does the classical music make me think it’s Konstantin, going to find Villanelle first instead of telling Eve because that seems like exactly something he would do

because it is!

YEESSSS HUGGGSSS

do it. I love you two together, go be freelance assassin weirdos, I support it.

see!!! Villanelle’s just literally swooning watching Eve through the peep hole! she’s so openly, embarrassingly smitten! and it’s HOT.

is Fiona Shaw wearing a jumpsuit. help.

Villanelle derpily, earnestly singing along to this sappy love song is SO GOOD. this also is what I mean! it’s shockingly uncool! and therefore feels so sincere!

aaaahhhh she put a razor blade in the lipstick!!!!! KINKY BLOODPLAY MURDER FLIRTING. you two are so cute and silly and campy and also FUCKED UP.

EVE TOUCHES HER LIP!!! YOU TOO, YOU ALSO ARE THIS WAY

Season 2, Episode 4 - ‘Desperate Times’

captivated by this poor man’s Dan Stevens eyeballing at her while he types at his desk

Fiona Shaw is wearing a long, collar-less leather blazer

thank god Carolyn’s boss is YET ANOTHER WEIRDO WOMAN. they showed her stripy socks leading into loafers first---bunch of teases making this show

“Bit of a cock up, really, isn’t this, Karen.” haha oh my god

do we know “Paul”? well, Paul’s boyfriend left him

the lines flew fast in this scene, and they were good

damn, Ms. Legs For Days

it occurs to me to be grateful that these two Russians speak in English for our benefit

anyway Konstantin what are you wearing

“Don’t go shopping alone again”---thank u Vill

aahhhahaha, the actress who played Jess was on Doctor Who. also of course Eve’s Companion crush is Rose, the cute flirty blonde. (Jess was on a Rose ep, lol)

wow his lawyers are so closely on retainer that one can materialize in about 20 seconds

I mean that is an interesting point though, that private companies now hold more data and information than intelligence services, so what does that mean for nation states

AAHHHHH. Amsterdam looks GOOD on our girl.

aw she’s eating that dumb Dutch sprinkle toast!

I like Eve and Jess working together, it’s good they’re letting us have this—Eve was getting pretty isolated

she looks SO CREEPY with this pig mask on. normally I can at least logically see the appeal of someone’s kink, but this is like...legit horror film territory, my dude.

Jodie Comer is doing some real good mask work here, and I am zero percent surprised

people rag on Niko a lot as Eve’s “boring husband” but I wonder if he actually kind of rules. funny, kind, cleans up nice, patient, sense of humor. like, man is alarmed to find they’ve been assigned a SECURITY GUARD because of his wife’s dangerous work, and he just sits him down at the table, pours them both some wine, and starts making dinner. what a guy! Niko is totally the wife role, I’m suddenly realizing—characters who are actually cool but we feel like we dislike them because the narrative only gives them one note to play over and over: frustration with our scattered hero who constantly lets them down. these characters have a thankless role in both their relationship and the show, and they get more flack than they probably deserve.

no, Carolyn don’t keep her postcard! you’re Emma Stone in The Favourite-ing this situation! risky!

“Well, we tried. Bye, Aaron.” this is hilarious

best day ever for this sex worker: just gets to hang out and nap on the giant wad of bills Villanelle handed her while she Juliets at the window waiting for Eve to arrive across the street

Hugo developing a crush on Eve is kinda weirdly fun. he’s so prurient, and young. and this little horny Oxford posh-boy getting steamed over Sandra Oh is pretty delicious.

god the styling onVillanelle this episode….every fabric she’s been in is so lustrous and vibrant. she looks incredible. and very her to swing far into glossy glamour as soon as she’s healthy and monied again. and feeling a little anxiously unconfident about Eve’s wandering attention. fashion therapy.

“Both.” she says both. she means BOTH. they’re gonna...yeah I told you! I mean Don’t though, thank god for the text buzz whew

honestly this is good this means you can keep Hugo fucking leashed

this is an EXTREMELY underground club

Villanelle’s free floating fear and insecurity right now feels shockingly her given how much it sounds like it shouldn’t! that’s good acting---making even new sides feel like they’re innately of your character.

ohhh my gosh they’re letting Sandra Oh speak Korean! THANK YOU I LOVE THIS. it’s just her casually on the phone with her mom this is fantastic!

oH WHOA, two immediate things!!! 1) ANOTHER ASIAN ACTRESS PLAYING THE GHOST, two Asian women on 👏 this 👏 show 👏 2) was Eve staging that call so that the Ghost would feel kinship with her?? holy shit, but yeah that feels like an Eve move

anyway I’m into the Ghost plot actually moving along at a pretty swift clip here, they’ve caught her and they’re only halfway through the season---opens up a more interestingly unusual back half with what will happen next

aww, Konstantin sleeping on the floor next to her bed

German ‘Angel of the Morning’ cover, ja ja ja  [EDIT: Dutch! this makes a lot more sense given that Vill...is in Amsterdam]

wow Jodie Comer is killing it this episode, this is a hell of a crying into the mirror jag. her eeeyyes! that she gradually looks almost dazzled to find herself so hurt.

god I’m adoring this new facet of Villanelle. heartbreak still in her style of slippery and indulgent and pure. and meanwhile Eve’s becoming even more of your classic detective sweaterbadboy, brilliant and inconsiderate and kinda sexily strugglebus-ing and burning bridges. NEAT-O.

Killing Eve Watch-Notes

Season One: Ep 1 & 2 - Nice Face, I’ll Deal With Him Later | Ep 3 & 4 - Don’t I Know You?, Sorry Baby | Ep 5 & 6 - I Have a Thing About Bathrooms, Take Me To the Hole! | Ep 7 & 8 - I Don’t Want To Be Free, God, I’m Tired

Season Two: Ep 1 - Do You Know How To Dispose of a Body? | Ep 2 - Nice and Neat

[fibula-rasa]

The Vamps — Part Two: Theda Bara and the Star Image

Theda Bara was born in the shadow of the Egyptian pyramids–the daughter of a French actress and an Italian sculptor. Her betrothed is a skeleton.

Theodosia Goodman was born to a middle-class family in Cincinnati, Ohio. She was the daughter of a Jewish haberdasher.

In the early years of the film industry, there were no stars. Film producers knew that allowing for name recognition would empower their performers to make demands–like greater pay. So, the performers in films were routinely uncredited. Around 1910, that began to change. When The Biograph Girl, as she was known, moved to a different studio, her name was finally made known to the public: Florence Lawrence.

An aside: If this seems wild to you, think about modern television commercials. Before he jumped to a different company, how many people repeated the phrase “Can you hear me now?” without knowing the actor (Paul Marcarelli) from the Verizon commercials? Nowadays, what with google and social media, this isn’t quite as common but, still, How many people know the names of those Sonic guys (who are clearly in purgatory btw) but know their gags well? (Their names are T.J. Jagodowski and Peter Grosz.)

Once Florence Lawrence became The First Movie Star, it didn’t take long at all for the trappings of the star image’s constructed reality to develop. Movie fan press began covering the “private lives” and habits of performers. Studio employees built biographies for film performers that better matched their on-screen personas than their actual background. The performers themselves were variably complicit in the smoke and mirrors act. That’s not to suggest that everyone accepted these tales as the gospel truth. Much of the gossip press and movie fans simply had fun with it. That’s right, smarks are as old as kayfabe.

Theda Bara’s burst onto the screen in 1914 was an immediate draw. As the concept of film stars was crystalizing the film star’s image was intentionally muddled with the characters that they interpreted for the screen. In Bara’s case, Fox studios started fleshing out Bara’s Vamp pedigree. The Vamp archetype itself had taken form over the past decade [see Part 1], but Bara would give life to the paradigm. That first biography above is what was reported to the fan press by Fox’s press agents. The skeleton boyfriend was suggested by the copy to accompany a promotional photo shoot where a scantily clad Bara drapes herself beside a prone skeleton. The ties to Spiritualism are clear. Death was by no means a finality to Bara’s romance.

Bara swiftly became one of the biggest stars of film in the teens–alongside Charlie Chaplin and Mary Pickford–The Vamp, The Tramp, and The Sweetheart. As movie fandom grew and the Los Angeles colony of filmmakers coalesced, concerns arose about the real, unconstructed lives of the performers. For Vamp types in particular, the question of their IRL morality was important to address in order to maintain their popularity. If anyone actually believed Bara was a sex-crazed goth, that could spell trouble for her career as the public began to care about film-star morality. In a May 1918 issue of Photoplay, Bara was asked about her morality to which she responded:

‘People write me letters,’ she said smilingly; ‘and they ask me if I am as wicked as I seem on the screen. I look at my little canary and I say “Dicky, am I so wicked?” And Dicky says, “Tweet, tweet.” That may mean “yes, yes,” or “no, no,” may it not?’

Coy and quirky answers aside, Bara continued to be a popular draw for Fox. In 1917, she took on the ultimate Vamp role, Cleopatra. The film is now believed lost, but at the time, it was her biggest hit. As her contract with Fox was running down, Bara began to campaign for non-Vamp roles. After that contract expired, that’s what she tried to pursue. It didn’t really work out and she eventually opted to retire from acting in 1926.

Bara made forty films in her roughly twelve-year-long film career. Unfortunately, only a handful of her films are still extant. So, how has Bara’s image persisted so strongly more than a century after her debut when there’s so little of her work for admires to engage with? Well, there’s a lot of potential answers to that question.

For one, the character of Theda Bara, the film star, was very well-limned and much of that promotional material has survived. The photographs and accompanying promotional copy paint a vivid picture that people still respond to today. I can tell to you that, as a teen, when I was encountering Bara’s photographs in a book I was immediately dedicated to seeing her films. The heartbreak that came with discovering how few of them exist and were readily available to watch in the late 1990s was real. It’s a story that’s still repeated today.

Bara’s acting style probably contributes to her persistent popularity as well. She was part of an acting tradition that involved the repetition of specific expressions and gestures to interpret a characters’ emotions. This style translates beautifully into still photographs. It’s not a stretch to suggest that it’s easier with Bara than many other lost film stars to extrapolate what their films and performances were like.

Also, Bara herself lived on, continuing to play with her image–even parodying herself in her final film appearance in 1926.

Additionally, by chance, one of Bara’s most popular surviving films is A Fool There Was (1914), the film that officially solidified the Vamp archetype. From the material we have, film fans and scholars can use Bara handily to build narratives about the emergence of the star system and fan interaction. So, Theda Bara, The Vamp, has lived on regardless of the dearth of surviving film. Feels pretty Spiritualist in itself, eh?

Learn How to Get the Look BELOW THE JUMP

The Costume

To build yourself a Theda Bara costume, this are the key elements I would focus on:

The Makeup

Bara did her own makeup and costuming for many of her films. It was common practice at the time. So, like later-Cleo Elizabeth Taylor, Bara’s makeup is pretty consistent across her films. Authenticity be damned though, because you are making a costume for fun in 2018, not to be photographed on orthographic film in 1918. I chose maroon-red for my eyeshadow because I thought it would be more striking and, in black and white, would photograph darker than a cooler shade.

The key shape is curvy, elongated eyeshadow in a single color, well blended into a dark liner shade. Bara has pretty round eyes, so you’ll likely want to line your waterline with a lighter shade–white if you wanna be really striking, a nude lighter than your skin tone if you wanna play it low key. Your eyebrows should be straight and drawn out as long as the eye makeup.

The lip shape is small, but not a pucker-pout. Focus on the sharpness of the cupid’s bow. I chose a color in harmony with the eyeshadow, but any deep red or pink would do.

Blush and contour? Skip it. First because you need to cherish the gothy pallor. Second because it would look incongruous with this makeup style. Film stars of the era didn’t typically wear rouge because, on film, it would come off as a deep shadow. The gaunt look wasn’t very fashionable.

The Hair

You have lots of freedom here. Bara had long, thick, and curly hair but as bobs became more fashionable, she often pinned it up into a messy faux-bob. The latter is what I went with. I brushed and pinned the hair on the crown of my head forward to make an era-appropriate pouf.

Head gear is a good choice. I actually pinned a necklace into my hair but if you have any art-nouveau or ancient-Egypt inspired pieces, you’re set. It might sound a little wild, but a dead flower crown would be so on brand.

The Clothes

Scanty. The most important skin to flaunt is around your neck and collar bones. For dress/skirt length, you should go close to floor-length if possible. The fabric should ideally be drapey and/or gauzy. Now, if it’s cold where you are around Halloween, an extra-large scarf would be a good call.

Read Part One

Part Three: Pola Negri & Exoticism coming Thursday!

[danganronpawritings]

I summon the Ascendant Ruler of Ice, Tanaka the Forbidden One, to judgement under the fluffy alphabet! Welcome back Mod Anju!! Sending lots of love

A = Attractive. What do they find attractiveabout the other?

He finds your understanding and fearlessnessattractive.

B = Baby. Do they want a family? Why/Why not?

Of course the Dark Lord needs an heir!Besides, human babies cannot be much different from human babies… right?

C = Cuddle. How do they cuddle?.

He will just hold you face-to-face

D = Dates. What are dates with them like?

He takes dates VERY seriously, and makes apoint to not let anything interrupt you. He likes the usual dates, you know-summoning otherworldly beings, gathering materials for a potion or recipe orwhatever, and reading you ancient tomes. Typical stuff.

E = Everything. You are my ____ (e.g. mylife, my world…)

You are my eternal partner in this world ofcruelty and injustice, but together we will rise to become the most powerfulcreatures of all worlds!

F = Feelings. When did they know they werefalling in love?

When he found that you were actuallyinterested in all his dark culty stuff. You didn't think he was weird, nor didyou cut him off to talk about the 'more important things' of this world.

G = Gentle. Are they gentle? If so, how?

He is very gentle with his dark lord/lady, ashe is your knight, your guardian, he will protect you from all things evil.

H = Holding Hands. How do they like to hold hands?

Bu-but you can't touch him! You'll die!*grabs hand anyway* *you don't die* *Gundham is shocked and buried self in hisscarf*

I = Impression. First impression/s?

He thought at first you were just a meremortal, but then he began to notice a strong energy radiating from you, and hehad to investigate further…

J = Joker. Are they into pulling pranks?

No, he is a very serious person, he doesn'thave time to pull childish pranks.

K = Kiss. How do they kiss?

He is more for short and sweet pecks on thelips, cheek, forehead, nose, wherever. He is also one for butterfly kisses whenyou both are having an intimate moment.

L = Love. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

You do, and he is stunned, completely frozenin shock.

M = Memory. What’s their favorite memorytogether?

One day you had come home out of athunderstorm, soaking wet, but you were holding a box. In the box were 6water-logged, thin, abandoned kittens. Before you could even explain Gundhamhad grabbed the box and ran to the kitchen. Together you both nursed thekittens back to health.

N = Nickel. Do they spoil? Do they buy theperson they love everything?

He occasionally spoils you, but doesn't getyou EVERYTHING you want.

O = Occupation. Dream job?

He really would rather not participate in themeticulous work this world requires, but if he had to…. Animal trainer/breeder.

P = Petnames. What petnames do they use?

Something that references you being hiseternal partner in his journey to conquer the dark realm and gain immortality.So something like 'my dark lord/lady'

Q = Quaint. What is their favorite non-modernthing?

Does ancient casting and dark art bookscount? He is constantly studying those to gain more power.

R = Rainy Day

First he would be concerned… obviously one ofhis enemies is trying to manipulate the weather to hinder his activities thatday… but no matter, such obstacles won't stop him! He will go on with his dayas previously planned, but now with determination… You had a nice picnic at thepark planned? Well you better bring your umbrella because nothing is stoppinghim.

S = Sad. How do they cheer themselves/othersup?

Well, the Dark Devas of Destruction alwayswork to cheer everyone up.

T = Talking. What do they like to talk about?

He loves to talk about the other world, hisdark powers, ect… He also loves talking about the Dark Devas of Destruction andother animals he has interacted with recently.

U = Unencumbered. What helps them relax?

He truly relaxes when he is with animals.They are so sweet, unjudging, and pure. They are so soft and loving, just beingaround animals puts him at ease.

V = Vaunt. What do they like to show off?What are they proud of?

He loves to show off his knowledge of thedark arts, but he must stay humble, so he rarely actually brags.

W = Wedding. When, how, where do theypropose?

He would be quite traditional, but in a darkway. He would get on one knee, he doesn't give you a ring, but a necklace. Thenecklace would have various stones embedded in it. Black obsidian, forprotection, amethyst for calming and emotional stability, tiger eye forself-discipline, aventurine for happiness, rose quartz for love, and kyanite tocleanse the others, and to remove any energy blockages.  

X = Xylophone. What’s their song?

Beethoven Virus, nightcore remix

Y = You. You are the ___ to my ___ (e.g. thecookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

You are the light to my darkness

Z = Zebra. If they wanted a pet, what wouldthey get?

Well, he already has his Devas, but he loves allanimals. If he could, he would have his own zoo.

~Mod Anju