#And then proceeded to cry demurely

[atihkinsam]

I mean let's be REALLY real though, with the way they set up Mary Winchester on supernatural, there was no way they could have legitimately brought her out of the woodworks and NOT have it fall flat on their faces.

She was almost this Saintly Figure this Paragon of Motherly Love and Sacrifice and then she is NOT.

Obviously cause the the writers had Amara RIP her out of some near perfect heaven where she hangs out with John and baby sam and little dean for eternity,

And then is thrust into this Dumpster Fire earth that dean just saved from getting nuked by making god and his sister see the winchester way, 'thou shalt love thy brother as thyself' which is absolute bars btw!!

Because didn't God's son HESUS! write that down for us?!

I mean dean on many levels expected her to get RIGHT BACK into her Role as Mother Mary and was super pissed that she was just weirded out by two (more like one?!) grown dude(s) and way too much testosterone for her own comfort.

[thevanillerose]

TRAINEE | TOKITO x READER | DEMON SLAYER

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

He was soft faced…

Eyes a gentle teal, skin like porcelain. Delicate and demure like a doll, almost feminine at first glance. Tokito.

When you first heard you’d be training with the Mist Hashira, you honestly weren’t worried. You felt no concern, figuring (naïvely) that he always carried the same attitude, and as such…would he not be tender with you?

What you didn’t expect was how his personality could do such a 180, that when he was a teacher, he wasn’t really Tokito anymore.

“In a real battle, you won’t just be getting bruises. You’ll be getting sliced and torn apart. You won’t just be aching the next day. You’ll be dead.”

His stern tone, so different from what you were used to, echoed in the training room, all ten of you standing to attention as he paced back and forth.

“At this rate, anyway. From what I can see, not one of you is prepared for a real fight.”

You were standing furthest at the end of all the others. Your stance was tense, and your head was low. You found it a little hard even just to look up at him whenever he passed by, as if meeting his gaze would somehow double down on your nerves.

“All of you, need improvement…”

His black-socked feet padded down the extent of the room until they had reached your position, and he stood before you, giving you a full view of just how that once sweet, sparkling gaze had shifted. Now it looked coldly focused.

“That includes you, [Y/N].”

The training session proceeded. Just as you now expected, he was ruthless with every contender. Each harsh smack of his wooden sword against flesh was enough to make you flinch, and as he worked his way down the line, picking out each person to spar, your sense of dread grew and grew.

He actually made some of them cry. You worried you’d do the same, and he’d think of you as a weakling from then on. Though perhaps it was fair to say he already did…

“[Y/N]. Your turn.”

Slowly raising your head, you met that chilly gaze again and swallowed nervously, before nodding and walking forward with stiff limbs. You positioned yourself before him, holding your own weapon before you, unable to hide how nervous you were.

He saw it. He saw the way you were quivering, trembling, but still, made no comment. He only signaled for the fight to begin.

The two of you circled around each other warily, staring at one another, though compared to his more serene, confident expression, you must have looked like some frazzled little field mouse. 

I have to prove myself!

A little too hastily, you attempted to strike him. However, with a sharp CLACK! he easily parried, then prepared his counter attack. The wooden sword cut through the air towards you with such smoothness it almost seemed like a real blade, and you squinted, freezing in place, bracing yourself for the pain that was surely coming-

…Yet it was only a gust.

A small puff of air, as Tokito deliberately stopped the sword from touching your neck mere millimeters away. Had he not, you’d have been sent crumbling to the ground.

Shaking, a bit bewildered, you opened your eyes and looked at him again. He may have stopped himself from hitting you, but that didn’t change how stern he still looked now. 

“So. [Y/N]. What do you think of your own performance?”

The rhetorical question he posed had you utterly on edge. You knew what the answer was. ‘Poor’. You already knew, it hadn’t been good enough. 

It hadn’t been good enough…

“Disappointing, overall. Tomorrow we’re going to have to up the ante I guess.” Tokito uttered in disappointment, and dismissed the group. Only, as you were filing out after the others, also about to leave, he put his arm out and stopped you.

“Not you, [Y/N].” he said, waving you back a few steps, “You and I need to do some extra training.”

Looking over at him sheepishly, a part of you wanted to plead with him not to do this. You could train on your own time, right? You’d had enough humiliation for one day. 

However, he wasn’t having it. And as you were guided to the center of the room, you soon had one of the swords thrust into your grip again, Tokito looking across at you expectantly.

“Now. We’re going to spar until you get this right.”

This time around, you didn’t try going for him first. That hadn’t worked out so well previously, after all. But he still came at you with a quick attack and you, again, couldn’t avoid it in time. Moments before the sword hit you though, you swore you saw a flash of worry in his eyes. But it was snuffed out as quickly as you were smacked, and you doubled over with pain, clutching your left side.

“...I know it hurts, [Y/N].” he uttered, “But it’s going to hurt far worse when it’s an actual weapon.”

“I-I know–” you grunted, a little tearfully, but pulled yourself together as best as you could and straightened up again. 

Every time you did this, every time you tried to face him head on, bravely, he would counter with a strike that left another welt or bruise on your body. Finally, it got to the point where he’d left you too winded to stand properly, and his frustration finally showed, his teeth grit as he tossed his sword aside and stepped right up to you.

“[Y/N]! Why even bother with Hashira training if you’re never going to get it right! It’s like you’re not listening to any of the advice I give you!”

You had still been doubled over, holding yourself while he snapped at you. But you slowly, a little wearily, raised your head and looked up at him, sniffing. Tears that you had been fighting hard to bite back earlier were now lingering around the edges of your eyes.

Tokito was startled. His stony, disgruntled expression wobbled into something more emotionally raw. The worry was back, and he was finding it hard to hide too.

“I’m sorry…I know I’m weak, and I’m useless. I know I should have never signed up for this! It’s just…” you winced, and gripped your side a little tighter, “...Demons killed my sister. If I can’t avenge her then there’s no point for me to keep on living…”

Hot, salty trickles streamed down your cheeks as you let out a little sob, shaking your head, “I don’t want to give up but…I know I…I know I can’t do this!”

There was a moment of tense silence between you two, a pregnant pause during which you were too afraid to look at him, too afraid to see that cold expression again. Yet, when you finally braved it, you were shocked by what you saw.

He was looking at you sadly. Guiltily. His visage was soft and tender once more, his ocean eyes wide and glimmering like they were on the verge of crying too.

And he finally spoke.

“[Y/N]...do you know why I’m trying so hard with you? Why I’m pushing you this much, why I’m being so serious about it?”

Gazing up at him, a little lost, you shook your head slowly and quietly. In return, his lips broke into a gentle smile, and his slender hand met your shoulder with a soft, comforting touch.

“It’s because I know how much that means to you. I know you don’t want to give up. For your sister’s sake…”

To your surprise, his hand slid up to your cheek, the pad of his thumb gently brushing away the tears upon it.

“But…you should also do it for your own sake. Prove it to yourself. You aren’t as weak as you think you are.”

As his hand smoothly pulled back again, it graced a few strands of your hair, tugging them gently and letting them slip between his fingers smoothly. You felt a heat in your cheeks, a tiny flush spreading there, covering the red marks and bruises that had been left.

“Do you…really think that?”

You asked him innocently. He smiled warmly.

“Yes, [Y/N]. I do.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS! LIMITED TIME SALE: 20% OFF ALL COMMISSIONS UNTIL THE 31ST OF AUGUST! ♡

[antikate]

Today I subjected myself to the awful ordeal known as bra shopping because my eight year old bras (old enough to be halfway through grade school) have all decided to give up their tenuous hold on my torso.

After so many brave years of service, I wish them well.

Last time I went bra shopping I went to Nordstrom, but Nordstrom no longer exists in Canada, joining its fallen brethren, Sears, Target, and Bed Bath and Beyond in the venture capital graveyard. Eight years ago, at Nordstrom, a Russian lady with a severe blonde updo told me I have European breasts, whatever that meant, and I wore the three bras she sold to me for the better part of a decade, apart from an emergency sports bra purchase last year when I found myself in the resort town of Banff sans underwear. (That bra doesn’t earn the “sports” designation unless that sport is chess, but that’s a story for another time.)

So I did what any person with tits does, and turned to reddit to recommend a bra shop for me. The closest one was a few suburbs away, but it had good recommendations. And it’s next door to a good coffee shop! But when I turned up there it was so hot I didn’t want coffee and also it became clear this is not the kind of bra shop where you grab some bras and try them on until one turns out ok. By ok I mean it doesn’t make you feel like you’ve got three tits like that woman in Total Recall. No this is the kind of bra shop where they measure you and bring you the bras that they think will fit, in a vaguely patronizing and horrifying manner. Also you just stand there in your underwear for what feels like seven hours while people just wander past.

Luckily I have kids so I have no dignity left whatsoever.

The nice lady working there showed me to a fitting room and gave me a skeptical once-over.

“What size bra are you wearing now?” She asked. I feel like it’s important to note that she was wearing a cowboy hat the entire time this fitting occurred, because reasons, which I won’t go into on account of how you can probably dox me just from knowing I’m in Canada so I shouldn’t get more regionally specific. Though the cowboy hat may give it away.

I told her, and I immediately knew I was wrong about my bra size, because the first rule of shopping for bras is that you are wrong about your bra size.

“I don’t think so,” she said, kindly, and proceeded to bring me a bra with an F cup. I’ve been wearing a D cup for lo these eight years. No, apparently I’ve jumped right over E and straight into F. Also the Russian lady at Nordstrom had me in the wrong size band, and also whatever else European breasts means it also apparently signifies that I have a very odd shape because only two bras at this entire bra shop fit me. One of them was $225 and also lacy and scarlet. It did fit really well, but I politely demurred on it, as what I really wanted was not lacy and scarlet. I wanted a beige bra! Good old beige! I am not living a scarlet lace bra life! I am living a beige bra built by engineers with enough structural integrity to hold a cliff face together life.

The lady in the cowboy hat was quite sympathic. “You must have had so much trouble buying bras,” she said. “It’s not your fault! The bra industry is just like that for some people.”

I felt like I was in church and the priest just told me I was a fallen sinner but Jesus loves me anyway.

Alas, even though the lady in the cowboy hat was very nice, they didn’t have a single beige bra in my F cup size so they ordered one in for me. It will come next week. And then I got home and nearly cried because??? Why can’t I just buy a bra??? At a shop that sells bras???? At a SHOP THAT SELLS BRAS.

That’s when I realised I hadn’t eaten lunch which is probably why I was crying over beige bras so I as I write this I’ve eaten a whole bag of white cheddar flavoured popcorners.

The moral of this story is to not have breasts. The end.

[tabbyrp]

Day 27 @brooklynislandgirl @tangleweave

CW: A bit of dead doves and where humans are the monsters.

He first saw her at the fundraising gala. Amid the crème de la crème of San Francisco high society, Elizabeth Riley stood out. Long, glossy black hair that flowed over tawny skin. A perfect petite body encased in demure silk. Demure and graceful. Part of the crowd without dominating it.

Too old for his tastes but he could admire the elegance.  

They made polite introductions later in the evening. She was aware of his plans to enter the senate race, asked how it was proceeding. The usual formal chit-chat. Restrained, though when he put a polite hand on her arm to make a point, goosebumps formed over Ms Riley’s skin. It must have been attraction, obviously, and if any woman could have tempted him, she came close.

-

He next saw her in the hotel lobby. Curious, though Elizabeth explained that sometimes she checked in when her partner needed a good night’s sleep. He got the bed at home in utter peace, and she could spend an evening on the town, so to speak.

“Big suitcases for one night away,” he commented.

Elizabeth’s smile somehow only reached her lips. “I like to bring back gifts for the family.”

-

He last saw her in the alleyway between their hotel and a nearby restaurant. It was only a glimpse of that same bird-like woman, right before a black tentacle gripped his arm. Pulling him into the darkness, he screamed as wisps and tendrils of ink rose up, wrapping the woman up and growing her taller, splitting what had once been her face into a maw of needle-point teeth.

He begged. He pleaded. He offered money.

He wept. That was when Elizabeth… the creature… it, spoke.

“Did they cry too?” A voice he passingly recognised rasped into a brutal medley which echoed down to his shrunken soul.

The final symphony of his life was the splintering sound of bone breaking as the thing’s serrated mouth wrapped around his head and bit down.

There was pain.

And then there was nothing.

-

Dawn had begun to paint the horizon in hues of pink and gold when Beth finally slid into her own bed. Eddie turned over with a half-awake grunt to meet her, the arm that draped over her turning black as Beloved slithered home. “Someone ate well tonight,” Eddie murmured, eyes still shut and the sated weight of his other half doing little to rouse him.

“So did da sharks,” whispered Beth in answer. There were two suitcases by the front door, the interiors filled with drying blood, that she would either burn or clean up later. For now, she burrowed in closer beneath the arm that was still both Eddie and Beloved’s, and let her own eyes close with a soft, content smile still on her lips.  

[sanjoongie]

Congratulations on your one year🥳🎂 one day I'll buy you a real cake 🥺😂 I got chu

I wanna play along so I'll do "Arrows of Sin"

~Topaz: i will look forward to you fixing the cake debt >< thank you for encouraging my thoughts, helping me provide a 'who' when i ask 'who in ateez would do this' and generally allowing me to torture you with whatever i write. you work hard being my beta and there's not a day that doesn't go by that i'm not thankful you're my friend~ this is for youuuuuuuu

Arrows of Sin

✧Pairing: Ji Changmin x Reader (f) ✧Genre: smut ✧Au: fairy tale, sleep demon (incubus?), video game au, break the (forth) wall, hints of horror? ✧Word Count: 1,175 ✧Warnings: seduction through dreams~, penetrative sex without barrier, oral f receiving, edging/denial, degradation kink, ✧Rated: 18+ MDNI

Changmin closed one eye, pulled back the bow string, let out all of his breath and then released the string. His arrow went flying but not towards the target he’d rather. There was Yunho, once again, talking to his love. And wasn’t she just twirling her hair and giggling at the cur. Changmin picked up another arrow and shot it into the bull’s eye. Again. His jaw tightened in anger. He had to will himself to not rotate his body and aim the next arrow at Yunho.

At the castle of Happily Ever After, there was only one outcome in this game: the prince Yunho and the princess were to end up together no matter what difficulties they endured. The princess could be kidnapped, it could be revealed that Yunho has a dark side, none of that mattered because the ending was always the same. You guessed it, Happily Ever After, only for them. But couldn't the rules be tweaked just a little bit?

So Changmin sneaked into Yunho’s rooms late at night, clasped a hand over the Prince’s mouth and made a pact in the shadows of the moon. The pact was with a sleep demon. In exchange for providing the demon with a permanent food source, the demon would lend Changmin the power to visit the princess in her dreams. This way, Yunho was out of the picture, in perfect health but never waking up, while Changmin could subtly encourage the princess to fall in love with him instead.

The princess was deep asleep when Changmin came to her. Her cherry-red lips were in a tiny pout but she slumbered peacefully. Changmin kissed her forehead and then he was able to crawl inside of her dreams until he broke the pact with the demon. 

The first few dreams were simple whispers of what could be. A laugh, a whisper, a kiss, nothing too in your face. The princess was distraught, after all, over Yunho being in a deep sleep in which he could not awake from. But then Changmin pushed into her dreams physically and lured her there. A dimpled smile, a hearty laugh, and soon the princess was sending him small smiles his way.

The piece de la resistance was when he dared to go where he had been trembling in anticipation for. He wove a dream of lace and sunsets; a bedroom pretty enough for the apple of his eye. There he pushed her body into the plush bedding and kissed her neck. The princess protested demurely even though she opened her legs for him willingly. He licked and sucked marks along her skin and she moaned wantonly for him, running her hand up the nape of his neck to dig her nails into his scalp. She was soon mewling his name, begging for more.

“I want to hear you say it, princess,” Changmin growled.

“Changmin, please, I need you inside of me,” She whined, bucking her hips upwards.

“Anything for you, beloved,” Changmin cooed and proceeded to remove the princess’s undergarments with his teeth. 

He wrapped his arms around her thighs and proceeded to lick her lower half until her back was bowed and she was crying pretty tears of need for him. And still he didn’t give her any release. He made sure to kiss every part of her squishable body, using his hands to swirl and squeeze the flesh that was all his now. The princess switched between sweet cries and deep demands, and still Changmin denied her. 

The princess was a writhing, wet wreck below him and it was everything he wanted in life. “Darling, what do you want the most?”

The princess grabbed his labels and pulled him close to her face. “Take me from behind like a beast does for his mate.”

Changmin quirked an eyebrow at her brazenness. “Princess?”

“Make me feel like a dirty wench,” She said, eyes downcast, and back to being the blushing princess.

Changmin wasn’t sure if this was the princess’s dream anymore or his. Surely the princess would never be this debased for Yunho? Here he was, amongst the pink and the plush, and the princess wanted lecherous scenes for her pleasure. Changmin wanted to fill that void for her. He wanted her addicted to his body from the dreams so that the princess would be pushed to press for him in real life. 

Changmin maneuvered the princess until she was on her hands and knees for him. He appreciated the pretty picture she made, like this, in front of him. His hands were still greedy for her skin, touching and pinching, drinking in her noises of pain and pleasure. But it was time to put both him and the princess out of their misery. 

His fingers dug into the flesh of her ass as he eased himself inside of her. The princess let out a happy sigh, finally being filled like she had been yearning for. She made small noises beneath him, murmuring his name and making his heart burst. This is how life should be rewarding him, it shouldn’t just be a scene within the dream.

“I can’t believe you just wanted to be fucked like a whore,” Changmin said in a sing song voice to the princess, “I could have had you like this so many times, just for your pleasure.”

“Don't,” The princess whined, “I just--” The rest of her sentence was cut off as Changmin began to thrust harder into her.

“You like it rough? You want it deep? What if I mark up every piece of your precious flesh, Princess? Would you like that? I should let everyone know that you’re mine,” Changmin cooed and it sent shivers through the princess’s body. 

The princess didn’t have anything more to say, other than chanting his name over and over. He had her hook, line and sinker. She came with a pretty shout, her voice hoarse from all the torture he had put her through previously. She was simply a hole to be used for his pleasure now.

When it was Changmin’s turn, he cried out, shooting his arrows of sin inside of the princess. All within the dreamscape of course, everything was perfectly fine. But if he could get the princess addicted to the pleasure he could give her in her dreams, imagine what she might let him do outside of them.

***

“What the heck?” You said out loud, confused as to why your save was corrupt and you couldn't play your favorite game.

You cocked your head, confused as to why Prince Yunho wasn’t on the title screen anymore. You squinted. Who was that, one of the soldiers that was always practicing archery on the grounds? Did he even have a name?

“Princess,” An eerie voice echoed in your room.

You ripped your headphones out, eyes wide and looking around. You could have sworn… there was no way that came from the game? You put your phone down. Maybe it was time for bed. But oddly enough, you had the most filthy dreams…

Taglist game is closed! Just clearing out all the ones that made it through the deadline~ enjoyyyyyy

[zablife]

At dinner with Jack and his family for the first time (reader is his fiancée). Jack becomes utterly seething with jealousy when his brothers/nephews become too friendly with reader. Reader tries to calm him down at dinner when his temper reaches its limit, she places a gentle hand on his thigh and he takes her somewhere quiet where he can attentively and possessively (quite enjoyably and loudly for them, but much to his brother's dismay) relay his claim over her.

Jack Lays His Claim

(Warnings: 🔞, language, possessiveness, fucking within earshot of the family)

•It all began when Jack's teenage nephews ogled you in the entryway. Jack ignored them, however, laughing to himself when their voices cracked as they introduced themselves.

•His older brother, Patrick, was a different story altogether. Their rivalry went back to childhood and Jack felt his blood pressure increase when Patrick took your hand to escort you into the dining room. "It might be his house, but you're my goddamn girl" Jack thought, clenching his jaw and stomping after you.

•Of course Jack was proud to show you off in front of everyone, but the attention at the table with so many Nelsons was overwhelming. Everyone talked at once wanting to know more about the woman he'd proposed to just last month. You smiled demurely and tried to answer as best you could until Jack interjected. "For Christ's sake, would you let her eat in peace?"

•That's when Jack's younger brother decided to make his opinion known. "Can't let the lady speak for herself, Jack? With an old-fashioned attitude like that she might just leave you for a younger man, you know," he said cutting you a devilish grin. Your cheeks flushed hot at the notion and you could tell Jack was ready to explode in a fit of anger.

•Reaching under the table you squeezed his thigh gently and flashed him a reassuring smile to let him know you only had eyes for him. However, you noticed his leg bouncing with pent up energy and you knew he was agitated. Without warning he stood from the table, pulling you with him. "I need a word with my fiance," he said without further explanation and proceeded to lead you into the study adjacent to the dining room.

•"Jack, what on earth has gotten into you?" you said, looking down at his hand still firmly clasped around your wrist. He didn't answer as he pulled you into him and dug his hand into the back of your hair, pressing into you for a searing kiss that lasted longer than you had breath to fill it.

•Before you knew what was happening, Jack had hoisted you atop the large desk and began nipping at the side of your neck as he ran a hand along the inside of your thigh mumbling, "You're my girl, all mine."

"Who else would I belong to, Jack?" you said as he worked to unbutton his trousers.

"Show me," he said. "Please let me have you here," he begged and you reached down to feel his growing need for you. You bit your lip, nodding eagerly and that was all the permission he needed, burying himself to the hilt in one swift movement.

•You stifled a desperate cry with the back of your hand and Jack reached out to pull it away, holding you by your jaw to look him in the eye as he thrust into you with abandon. "Don't do that, doll. Make all your beautiful sounds for me, okay?" he panted. Your head fell back in pleasure, but you couldn't mistake the hint of a smirk in his tone when he instructed, "Need you to scream my name tonight."

Cont. here.

[rataltouille]

GEOMETRY OF THE HOLY MOON (1 AM): A SHORT STORY

GENRE: surrealism, literary fiction.

POV & TENSE: this little space is not enough for how wild the form is so i talk about this later!!

SETTING: a small desi village, 1924-25.

TONE: dreamy, unsettling, melancholic.

THEMES: faith vs reality, how people perceive others and how they perceive themselves, grief dealt the wrong way.

AESTHETICS: the splash of water on a quiet night, thick clouds obscuring the sky, rippling the moon’s reflection on the water. the intensity of a garden in spring, the emptiness of a dying town, the suffocation from being singled out. hands grazing lightly but never fully held. a lingering sadness behind your laugh. believing in things you shouldn't believe in. putting faith on a starless sky.

STAGE: completed first draft, 4085 words.

LOGLINE: a young boy, surrounded by loss, claims to talk to god. the story follows him and his conversations with this god, all while his village spies on him as he weaves his way around the two most crucial and lonely years of his life.

LITERAL LOGLINE: on today’s news let’s talk about a small backward town that hates sad little boys who worship god, even though the place is lowkey a cult!!

CHARACTERS:

THE SUMMER BOY: he’s around thirteen, and he’s very emotionally attached to his past. he lost his family at a young age to an unstable force, so he spends his time talking to himself. he’s a quiet, demure and sweet person, always willing to help others. he’s outwardly oblivious and sees only the good in people to a point where he doesn't understand when they’re trying to do him wrong. but! considering how the story [like a lot of my others] has themes of perception vs reality, it needs to be said that he isn't all that innocent. he’s rather impulsive and rash, never afraid of hurting himself [and thus accidentally harming others].

A GOD: is he real? do we even know if he’s an actual god? a very elusive figure despite having a lot of screentime. he’s a surprisingly humanised character and arguably the one with the most empathy. he has a soft spot for the boy and the two have a deep bond which is not common for a human and a god to have. you don’t get insight to what the other gods are like, but they’re implied to exist. this story has a very messy and hazy view towards religion and godhood and their nature towards humanity, and this vague figure, a dreamlike character, is proof enough of that.

THE VILLAGE: okay so in general these people suck. the village consists of, well, the village, but they’re very fluid in the way they appear in the story? as in for the most part they appear as a collective, a unit. one character, the summer boy’s “friend”, is somewhat separate considering he’s a pretty important character. it’s very hard describing this unit of a character but essentially they’re the main antagonistic force and they hate the protagonist for seemingly no reason.

WHAT GOES DOWN:

sometime around this time, the boy chances upon meeting his “god”, this being who lives up in the clouds and whom he talks with often, except you don't know if this god is real or not. that’s one of the recurring themes of this story: what’s real and what isn’t. it’s :) a fun time :) for sure :)

essentially Things Happen And It Only Gets Weirder. i cannot even try describing what happens because it’s all very spoilery but let’s just say that this is a very sad story but not even in a ���this makes me cry” manner, but rather in a “this is so fucked up wtf why”. the prose of this is very, very hazy and thick, in a manner that’s both smooth and suffocating. there’s also a lot of moon and water imagery which we love. i love the atmosphere + the setting—colonial india— as it’s a subtle but key element to the plot.

FORM:

OKAY YES be prepared for the true colours of how unhinged i am. i apologize for the form brainrot.

POV: so in this story i really said “what if it had all three of the main povs... jk jk... unless 😳😳” and then proceeded to use all three povs. you’re probably wondering, how did i do that? WHY did i do that? and my answer to that is: 🙂

the first-person pov: the summer boy narrates in first person. his pov takes up about 40% of the story, and this is where we unlock family backstory + how he feels about the various forces playing into his life. he’s an extremely unreliable narrator and he knows it; his narration oscillates between very naive and very self-aware, and this effect is pretty disconcerting. the summer boy is kind of a walking contradiction and we love that conflict.

the second-person pov: a god narrates in second person. his pov takes around 20% of the story, and his scenes all involve his conversations with the boy. his pov is extremely detached, and suspends belief because he seems awfully made up. there’s an edge to the prose in his narration, where you know that something's off, but you can’t exactly pinpoint what.

the third-person pov: the villagers narrate, either as a collective, or as an individual figure, in third person. they take up the other 40% of the story, and there are so many different people and differing opinions with this, and every time we read a third person excerpt it’s a different person, and this is mostly used to add onto the different ways in which the boy is perceived. this is also where the structural part of the form gets really wacky.

STRUCTURE: if my story isn't told in vignettes is it my story though /j. gothm is told in vignettes, each one between 50 to 500 words. the first and second person bits are normal-ish vignettes, with straightforward narration. the third person vignettes, on the other hand, are super assorted. we have a lot of epistolaric sections— there’s a letter, a folk song [which was found around the summer boy], and most of the conversation is told as just plain dialogue without tags. there’s also a phone call transcript, and finally some normal chunks of prose. what am i doing wtf.

also to add onto this the story is told non-linearly. 😀 the only thing that keeps me from going insane is the fact that there are chronological tags before most vignettes [also the manner in which they're tagged differs from pov to pov. for example a few of the third person conversations are marked just as “sunday” or “thursday”, while the summer boy’s narration is marked with the full date and year]

in all this clownery i completely forgot to mention what the tense was [the way everything else was so complicated that i forgot tense was a thing lmao] and good news!! it’s the only sane thing about this story!! it’s told fully in present tense. thank everything.

AN EXCERPT:

okay i’m once again not sharing much because this will be submitted to litmags 🧞

[The boy is scrawny as always. He carries an air of diswant— even death had rejected him when the plague killed only his grandmother— but walks like he doesn’t notice. He smiles at them, jitters, and wipes his hand across his knees. Blood comes away in thin, translucent lines. He saves it on the kerchief he keeps tucked in his shirt, careful to dirty the cloth even more. The villagers scrunch their noses in disgust; who knew how old and rotten the kerchief was, or how long it had carried blood like the unwashed sword of a warrior?]

also by the way this excerpt is in square brackets because it is a third-person interjection in a vignette that is otherwise first-person [at this point...]

SPARE THOUGHTS:

this was inspired by a conversation i had with my grandfather, where he was telling me about how people used to sing songs to the skies, as a way of devotion to a specific god. he used the [loose translation of] the english word “yearning” to refer to the emotion the singers would invoke, and that sparked the concept of a disillusioned young boy who talks to the moon as a way to please the god he’s in love with. it’s a very softly disconcerting story and once again deals with the theme of “perception vs reality” which if you know me and my work, is the theme i’m forever obsessed with.

i really like how this turned out? the atmosphere is exactly how i wanted it to be, and there’s so much i have to add on as i edit and i’m really looking forward to that. this is also the only short story i’ve written where i knew which litmag i’d love for it to be published in? like i never write things with publishing in mind, but for some reason while writing this story it occurred to me that it would be a perfect fit for this specific magazine and i love that. anyway if you’ve made it through the post till here,,,, bless you and your braincells. and that’s all for today!!

[rhabakoli]

Reunion

this has been in my WIP folder for like, 84 years... 

Also, that stupid chicken wing song was stuck in my head during half of the writing process. I wanted to die. 

This is the reunion kinda scene from the very beginning of chapter 24 of Beutiful and Damned by @dreamwritesimagines​  It’s smut, so like, stay safe and sane y’all. 

Enjoy.

The moment the door opened was the very same moment Geralt found himself a princess. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around is neck, her lips found his; she barrelled into him, her trust in his abilities to catch her absolute. 

He huffed in surprise and pushed the door closed to press her up against it. “I missed you so much.” Her voice was low, almost demure, but her hands definitely weren’t. She clawed at his shoulders, brushed them over his chest, tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him in. Geralt would be lying if he said her sudden boldness and forwardness wasn’t welcome, but it was certainly surprising and slightly confusing. “Princess, are you alright?” 

“Not until I’ve had one or two orgasms, Geralt.” She looked at him, face as innocent as possible. “Will you deny me?” She was actively trying to kill him then, alright. He groaned, his lips finding hers once again. “As if I ever could, princess.” He pressed closer, his torso flush against her, his hands smoothing down her sides, then gripping her ass. She was wrapped in a thin camisole, and nothing more, and it absolutely killed him. She was so precious, so sweet, so adorably sexy – He groaned, shoved the fabric out of his way to get his hands on her skin. “Fuck, princess.” She sighed against his lips, smile on her pretty face. “I really, really missed you, Geralt.” He bumped his nose against hers, his voice rough: “I missed you too, princess.” She arched her back, squeezed her thighs around his middle and giggled. “Are you going to take care of me now?” How she looked so innocent saying such meaningful things while she was most definitely able to bring him to the brink of an orgasm with just a couple moans and sighs… Unbelievable. “If you let me.” And in the breathiest, most seductive voice, she answered: “Please.” Geralt felt his restrain crumble. As usual, around her. He cupped the back of her head and his eyes almost rolled back into his head as her scent reached his nose. Something animalistic awoke inside his chest, and he had to fulfil her wish, lest he’d die right there on the spot. She could feel his chest expand as he took a breath, and then she could almost pinpoint the moment his control slipped. The effect was instant. His kiss was searing, hot, desperate, almost as desperate as she felt. It made her hips roll, made her thighs quiver with the force she used to press herself against Geralt’s rigid body. Her cunt clenched in anticipation, her mind filled with nothing but his name, “Please” and “More”. He devoured her, bit her lip and pulled, the tiniest, lowest rumble making itself heard. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of the noises he made. “Geralt, please, give me something, please.” “As you wish, princess.” He shifted his hold on her, his fingers trailing down her bum, before he found her slit. “Oh, princess.” She moaned at the soft-gravely sound of his voice. He sounded about at wrecked and needy as she felt. “You’re drenched already, fuck.” He gathered some of her wetness on his fingers and brought them to his mouth, licking them, tasting her. She watched him, head thrown back against the door, eyes half closed and mouth hanging open, her breaths coming in pants. Seeing his reaction to her taste, how his nostrils flared, how he licked his lips and rolled his eyes back, the appreciative groan – she whimpered, her hand curling in the fabric of his shirt. His eyes were aflame, the gold piercing through her; there was a carnal hunger inside them. Geralt didn’t hesitate any longer then; he ripped open his belt, unbuttoned his breeches one handed, and was inside her in seconds. The first thrust was almost painful, made her feel like he was pushing all the air out of her lungs – it had been a while and Geralt was a beast – but she loved it. One hand curled around the back of his neck, her nails probably leaving marks for everyone to see, the other fisted in her own hair, as she tried to keep in control of her voice, lest the guards patrolling the halls would hear. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, princess.” Geralt bent forward, curled into himself, rested his forehead against her chest, his hands wrapped around her hips now, holding her still. “Geralt, love, please.” He just nodded before he curled an arm around her to press her close, hooked his fingers into her nightshift to pull it down and lay her bare. Her nipples were stiff, sensitive; just his breath on them made her clench around him. He sighed her name, then latched onto one and simultaneously started to pull out. They were quick to find a rhythm, almost as if they’d never parted. He’d been so stupid. So incredibly thick-headed, to give this up because he was afraid to lose her, to hurt her. In pulling away he’d already managed to do just that, but he could feel their wounds mending now that they found their way to each other and poured their love into every touch, every word, every breath upon the others skin. It didn’t take long for her to come, clenching hard around him, as if she never wanted to let go again. Her back arched, her naked breast rubbed against his clothed chest, the friction giving another layer of pleasure to her orgasm. He held her, slowly fucked her through it, tiny motions, almost non-existent. He kissed her neck, her jaw, bit her earlobe and then started talking. She was sure she would start crying if he continued to assault her like that. His voice was so soft and low, it felt like she was wrapped in velvet and silk at the same time. “You are so beautiful, my princess. You’re beautiful and smart, and incredibly strong. I am so proud of you. You are everything to me. The best thing that ever happened to me. You make me feel loved and at home. Let me stay with you forever. I love you, princess.” Tears sprung to her eyes; her orgasm seemingly never-ending with the continued influx of sensations. She cried his name, shivers wracking her body, her nails cutting his skin where she held onto his arms. He hummed, pressed his face to her neck and took deep breaths. The scent of her arousal, her own fragrance, her soap; it all drove him crazy and at the same time calmed his senses, calmed his heart. It smelled like home, like happiness, like his future. Geralt waited until she relaxed, then he pushed away from the door and walked over to her bed. She whined at the movement but sighed when he went back to covering her neck and shoulders in kisses and bites. When her back touched the crisp sheets, she let go of her man and stretched, her eyes never leaving his. He was so imposing, gigantic. He was safe. He was home. Geralt knelt between her legs, ran his hands up and down her thighs and just admired her. There was a blissed smile on her face, a healthy flush spread down to her breasts, her nipples tight and calling out to him. Her neck was mottled with red spots already, her shoulders starting to look alike. “Geralt.” She watched him from beneath heavy lids and reached for him, wriggled her fingers at him. When he leaned forward until she could cup his cheek, her smile grew wider. “Geralt.” Her thumb brushed along his cheekbone and he thought he was going to melt. And then he thought he’d died and ascended to heaven, because she licked her lips, raised her head just the tiniest bit and whispered: “Fuck me like you mean it, Geralt.” He was so dumbfounded by her words, he didn’t move or react for a couple seconds. Her giggles snapped him out of it, and he smirked. “As you wish, princess. “ He scooted back, kissed her knees and then proceeded to flip her over fast enough to make her get whiplash. She bounced a little bit on the bed, and then his body was pressed along her back, hard lines against soft skin, his lips next to her ear, his dick pressing against her ass in the most teasing, heady way possible. Geralt rubbed himself against her, her soft skin a delight. “Do you know how hard it was to old back all the time?” He gathered her hair in one hand, his other hand buried in the sheets, muscles straining. Carefully, he pulled. “Do you know how often I wanted to simply throw you over my shoulder and take you away? Or bend you over some sideboard in the hallways and fuck you senseless, until you scream my name loud enough to make everyone know you’re mine?” She was panting, her heart racing. He liked her like this, all pliant and putty in his hands. “Do you know how much I missed your juices on my dick? How you feel when you get especially excited? How you start to drip, just from my words?” He let go of her hair and sat up, got comfortable between her legs. He teased her clit, rubbed his entire length through her folds and chuckled at her needy moans. “You like that, don’t you. I missed how you sound when you’re desperate, princess.” He let the head of his cock slip into her, barely enough to breach her, but certainly enough to have her press back. “You look so good like this, princess. I love to see you all pliant and fucked out. I know I’m the only one to get to see you like this, I know you’re mine as much as I am yours.” He caged her in once more, his arms to her sides. She sighed at the feeling of him shielding her like that, and at the way he teased her opening like that. There were three words filling her entire conscience at this point: Safe, Home, Mine. “I will show you how I am the only one to ever make you feel this good, princess. No other man can stretch you like this, ever.” He finally, finally, pressed in; one harsh thrust followed another. He didn’t start slow, no. He fucked her like he meant it, like she’d asked of him. And she LOVED it. Her hands were fisted in the sheets, holding on for dear life. She felt as if her brain leaked out of her ears; she was lost in desire and lust and pleasure. She’d forgotten how it felt to be desired, loved, cherished. “Geralt, fuck, please.” He shifted, his hips not losing rhythm, when he ducked to bring his lips against her ear: “What do you need, princess?” “More.” He grunted, moved his legs, and pulled her up. Her mouth fell open in a silent curse as she suddenly found herself in Geralts lap, her legs spread, held open by his. One hand came up to cup her breast, the other held her hip as he fucked up into her wet heat. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her neck stretched and presented beautifully. Oh, how great she’d look marked up, so everyone would know she’s taken, satisfied; that he was the one to bed her, to taste her all over. Geralt could feel the possessive growl in his chest built, could feel himself losing control. “Geralt.” A soft hand on his cheek snapped him out of it, brought his attention back to her face. “It’s okay. Let go.” “But-“ “You won’t hurt me.” She rolled her hips, clenched around him. “Please.” “Fuck.” He complied, wrapped both his hands around her waist and started fucking into her without restraint. She felt so good, so ready for him, so wet. He really thought he was going crazy. “Princess, oh fuck.” His voice in her ear made her break out in goosebumps, and she was fairly sure they’d be heard outside. Did she care? Not at all. Let them hear. Let them know, how was she supposed to care when he was inside her, loving her like he did? So intense, so honest, so real.   “Geralt, please.” He laughed, barely registered how unhinged it sounded with all the pleasure and want clouding his mind. All he wanted was to make her feel good, make her scream his name, fill her mind and body and never let go. The fast slapping of skin on skin mixed with the panting breath of them both, with the moans and cries of pleasure, the curses, the pleads. It was a cacophony of love and desire, of lust. It was lewd. Her wetness was gathering between them. She was glistening with it and he wanted to eat her up. She whined, his name on her lips like a prayer. “Please.” Her fingers were clawing up his arm, looking for purchase when he reacted with a snarl and a smack to her thigh. “Cum for me, princess, I know you want to.” He helped her along by finding her clit, playing with it, rubbing and occasionally pinching. She bucked in his arms, her voice that of a songbird. It was intoxicating and he never wanted it to end. But it had to. He wanted her to hit her high, to come around him, for him. “Princess”, he groaned into her ear. Shivers ran down her back, lightning and ice and molten gold. When she clenched, a curse escaped him; he wasn’t far behind at all. Just a couple more thrusts as he held her up, and he unloaded inside her, her moans filling his ears as he filled her with his seed. He stilled, curled is arms around her form; he’d never let her go. His princess caressed his arm, let her fingers roam up and down and play with his arm hair. “Hmmm, that was very nice.” She grinned at his nonverbal grunt, snuggled into his warmth. He was still inside her, and they were making a mess on her bed, but neither cared. She was basking in their comfortable bubble, until Geralt shifted and kissed behind her ear, just to say: “I’ll make you come on my tongue later, princess.”

[janeyseymour]

Breakable

WC: 6783

As much as everyone wants to believe that Jane Seymour was unbreakable- it just wasn’t true. The third queen needed help from her fellow queens. And they didn’t mind one bit. Sometimes, it was a bit more outward than others. Sometimes, it was a bigger deal than other times- from sitting with her after a nightmare to simply getting her a mug of tea, but they were always there for the demure queen.

I.

The gold queen stood outside of the blonde’s door for a few minutes, listening to Jane’s quiet sobs, hoping they would die down soon. It broke her heart to hear the sweet woman in such a state. When they only proceeded to get shakier and she could hear the third queen hiccuping, she knew she had to check in on her.

“Jane?” The first queen knocked lightly. “It’s Lina. Can I come in?”

“I, uh, oh, uh,” Jane stuttered from inside her room. “Just give me a second. I’m uh, getting changed,” she lied through her teeth, knowing that Catherine knew she was lying. She wiped at her tears and took a deep breath. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the way to open the door, and she broke down again.

“Actually Lina, I think I’m just going to, uh- I’m not really up for company right now. I uh, need to think some things through.”

“Querida, please? I’m worried for you.” Catherine was not one to beg and plead, despite what her song may have said about her in SiX.

“Lina, I-” the silver queen, despite her brain telling her not to open the door, opened the door.

“Oh sweetie,” the first queen sighed.

“I’m fine, really. I promise,” Jane said shakily.

“Are you though? It’s a bit obvious you’ve been crying.”

“Oh,” the third queen whispered. “Does anyone else know?” She asked, panic evident in her eyes. How she hated to let everyone in the house know she was upset. And when they found out why she was upset, she’d never hear the end of it.

“No. Everyone else is asleep.”

“Even-?”

“Even Cathy is asleep.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for keeping you awake. I’ll uh, I’ll be fine. You can go to bed if you’d like,” the blonde offered, not wanting her co-star to put herself out for her.

“I was already awake, Jane,” Aragon said in a reassuring tone. “I was actually on my way to make a cup of tea if you’d like to join.” Jane offered a small nod in return. It was only then that Catherine got a good look at the woman in front of her. Jane Seymour, the woman who was always so put together and strong now stood in front of her looking as if someone had kicked her puppy. The face that always had a bright smile on it was now stained with tears, a small frown displayed on her face. The hair that was always so neatly pinned back or pulled up, never a hair out of place- even when she first woke up- was now disheveled. The woman who normally stood so firmly while maintaining the aura that she was kind and warm now stood in a way where she looked smaller than she already was, arms wrapped around herself- almost as if she was trying to grasp for the reality that she was really there. The woman who was- for lack of a better word- unbreakable looked so broken. 

“Come on love. I was thinking of some of that pomegranate tea you love so much tonight. Does that sound like a plan to you?” The first queen held out a hand for the third to take. The blonde nodded, taking the hand hesitantly and allowed herself to be led down to the kitchen.

Catherine led the silver queen to the table and guided her into her seat before dancing around the kitchen to make the tea. It was quite odd in reality- Jane was always the one running the show in the kitchen, yet here she was allowing her best friend to do it for her. Not much later, Catalina had set a mug of tea in front of Jane who instinctively wrapped her hands around the mug, desperately praying the warmth being emitted from the cup would transfer to her soul.

“Now mija, what’s got you down?”

“I-” Jane bit the side of her lip. “I had a nightmare.” Catherine kept quiet. The blonde would continue talking eventually. “About Anne’s beheading.”

“Oh,” Catherine muttered. The two had sat many a night talking about this.

“I know that we’ve come to an agreement that it wasn’t my fault, and I wish I could say I whole-heartedly believe it, but I just can’t.” A stray tear fell, softly landing in her tea. “I was the reason she got beheaded. I could’ve stopped it. I didn’t even try. And because of me, she got beheaded. I died. Anna got divorced. Kat got beheaded. And Cathy was threatened with being beheaded.”

Were you-”

“I wasn’t looking for him,” Jane’s voice began to shake. “Father- he- Father told me if I didn’t move our family up in class, I was a failure. My brothers too. I- I wasn’t looking for him.”

“I know.”

“But it happened to be that he fancied me. Who was I to stop that? He was the king after all. But, if I knew what would’ve happened to Anne, I never would’ve done that. You know that, right?” Jane lifted her eyes from where they had been so focused on the mug in front of her to look at Catherine. There they were again, the broken eyes.

“I-”

“Catherine, please tell me you know that I never would’ve gone through with it if I had known she would be beheaded,” Jane pleaded, the tears falling like a river. They wouldn’t dry anytime soon. Her sobs wracked through her like an earthquake, her entire body trembling slightly at first, only to become more violent as she continued to silently. The silent storm- the most deadly. No one knew that it was happening- no one but the first and third queens.

After most of the tears subsided, tea long forgotten, the kind queen spoke quietly.

“You weren’t really coming down to get tea, were you?”

“No querida, I wasn’t. But I know that when Kat is having a hard time, you do the same thing for her. Why would I let you cry alone?”

“I- Thank you.”

II.

Instagrammer1549: Can we just talk about how all the other queens are serving looks, and then there’s Jane who looks like a mum?

Sixqueenswalkintoabar: She does look like a mum, but she pulls it off well, so who cares @Instagrammer1549

Roseamongstthethorns: jane you look just fine. You work mum jeans better than i ever could.

While what Roseamongstthethorns and Sixqueenswalkintoabar said was kind, all that Jane could see was Instagrammer1549 had commented on her post. And that led her to Anne’s room.

“Hey Annie? Are you in there?” Jane knocked on the door gently. 

“Give me a second!” The third queen laughed as she heard a crash before the door opened, revealing none other than Anne Boleyn herself.

“What’s up Janey?” The green queen leaned up against her door frame.

“So, I was on the instagram, and uh, here.” The third queen handed over her phone. The second queen looked over it for a second before a small frown drew itself on her face.

“So, they’re making fun of your outfit?” Jane nodded. “I don’t know why. I think the mum look suits you quite well actually.”

“Maybe I just need to get out of my comfort zone? I mean, I don’t know. You guys all look like... that. And there I am with a turtleneck and a cardigan. What if I gave it a try?”

“Well, I’ll help you if that’s what you want. But for what it’s worth, I think you make mum look good.”

So, a few hours later, the third queen and her predecessor were at the shops. 

“Try this on?” Anne held up a simple v-neck shirt.

“Isn’t that a little flashy?”

“Janey, it’s a simple v-neck. Your costume is much more revealing than this.” The blonde tried it on. She didn’t hate it.

“I suppose I could get on board with this. I’ll just make sure there isn’t too much cleavage.”

“And then, we pair it with a cute jean jacket- you can borrow one of mine- and some leggings. Simple enough, but stylish?”

“Okay, what about this?” Anne held up a sleeveless, black v-neck jumpsuit with sparkles along the waist.

“That’s... pretty.”

“Try it on?”

“What on Earth would I wear that for?”

“Jane, you realize we’re always doing some sort of interview or press junket, right? Pull this baby out, and-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll try it on.” The third queen vanished into the dressing room before appearing again.

“I really like this one,” Jane admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Well? Do a little twirl! Come on Janey!” The blonde did a turn, and Anne cheered. “Okay Mum!”

“Should I get it?” Jane looked at the price tag. “Oh gosh. That’s quite expensive for my taste. You know I prefer to just shop at-”

“Jane! Come on! You never splurge on something for yourself! You deserve to- just this once! It looks great, you said so yourself!”

“Well, I suppose so.”

“Great! Now let’s look for some more casual stuff. Things that you can mix and match with some of your other clothing too!”

The two left the shops with various items of clothing- some fancy, some casual. The green queen stayed true to Jane’s fashion. Even the most revealing shirt that Jane had purchased had the essence that it was “mum”. 

Jane debuted one of her new looks the next day, much to the surprise of the second queen. She had the simple v-neck they had bought along with a jean jacket the woman with space buns let her borrow as well as grey leggings. She didn’t look half bad.

“Wow Janey! You look great!” Anne smiled as she stole a pancake from the plate.

“Annie!” the blonde scolded her lightly. “But, you really think so?” The third queen blushed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah! You look so good! The messy bun? Never seen it done by you before, and you’re killing it! You look so good!”

Not long after, the other queens came down, all complimenting Jane.

“Wow. You look really nice Jane! Definitely different, but you still look like you! I love it!”

“We should all get dressed up and take cute pics today!” Kat smiled from her place at the table. “Would you wanna?”

“I think that’d be fun,” Jane, not normally one to opt to be in the photos, agreed.

A few weeks later, a situation where the queens had to dress up presented itself.

“Come on Janey! When we bought it, you loved it!”

“I know. It’s just... is it too revealing? We do have a younger audience. I don’t want to corrupt them.”

“Oh Mum,” Anne joked. “You saw what I’m wearing. The only two who dress moderately conservative are you and Aragon. Besides, I think the other queens will like what you have!”

Jane walked downstairs much later than the rest of the queens, having spent far too long looking at herself in the mirror and doubting the way she looked. Grabbing a cardigan (“It might be cold!” she would always insist, even on the warmest of nights), she made her way down the stairs.

“Hot damn Seymour!” Anna remarked when she saw the woman in black. 

“Do I look okay?” the blonde played with one of her loose curls.

“Mum! You look great!” the pink haired queen smiled.

When the queens posted about it the next day, no comments were made about Jane’s “mum look”, even though she had her cardigan on.

A few days later, Anne found a new set of wheels for her shoes with a simply note-

Thank you. -Janey

III.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We can run it again, or we don’t have to. I’m so sorry,” Jane apologized profusely. 

“We can just call it a day, what do you guys think?” Cleves suggested, seeing the clear distress that the silver queen was going through trying to learn the choreography. 

“But J-”

“I said I think we can call it a day,” Cleves stated with finality. She didn’t miss the look of gratefulness that the third queen shot her. 

“Alright girls. Home for dinner?” The silver queen had already gathered her things and was ready to leave.

“Seymour?” The woman who was always in red could hear the blonde clearly running through the routines in her room.

“Oh dammit,” the silver queen cursed quietly. “Give me a second!” The third queen could be heard making her way to her bed before allowing Cleves to come in.

“Hey Seymour.”

“Hi Anna!” Jane, now on her bed with a book open in her lap, looked up.

“I know you weren’t reading a second ago.”

“Ah, you caught me. How’d you know?”

“I could hear you tripping over your own feet and quiet curses. I figured I might be able to help you? With the choreography?”

“You know what? I would really appreciate that.” Jane set her book and glasses aside before standing back up. “I’m having a bit of trouble learning the choreography, but I don’t want to hold everyone up at rehearsal. I just come home and practice when I can. I guess I wasn’t that sneaky, was I?”

“As far as I know, I’m the only one who knows. I’ve heard you for a couple days now. So what parts are you having trouble with Seymour?”

“Would you laugh if I said all of it?”

The two were making their way through “Ex-Wives”. 

“I just don’t have the hips!” Jane laughed.

“You do have hips!”

“Well, I do have them!” the blonde couldn’t help but laugh. “I just don’t quite know how to use them!”

“And that’s why I’m here. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be the queen of twerking if I can help it!

“Absolutely not! I’m more than happy to leave that title to you!”

“So, the dance break in No Way?”

“Well, the first part is mostly just poses. You have your poses, right?”

“I’m bad at dancing Anna, not posing. Although, I do have to admit, I practice them in the mirror quite often.”

“Oh my god, Seymour. Well, for what it’s worth, they look pretty good.”

“Okay, so the dance break is where I get really confused.”

The two queens worked hard into the night. Promising to go through the other songs the next day, the two went to bed.

“You ready for Boleyn’s song?”

“I actually have this one down I think. I practiced the little dance thing in the mirror a lot this morning. That was the only thing that was really tripping me up.”

“Nice! And my song?”

“Oh, that’s another story,” Jane let out a full belly laugh.

“Okay, let’s get started.”

The two made their way through Get Down and Haus of Holbein before calling it a night, the blonde quite sore from doing all the squats.

“You know, maybe next time you offer, I’ll actually come to the gym with you.”

And so, once the two finished their choreography practice, they found themselves at the gym.

“Wow! Janey, when did you figure all of this out?” Anne was shocked that Jane wasn’t tripping over feet anymore.

“I uh,”

“Guess it just clicked. Right Seymour?” The fourth queen shot her a look, knowing the blonde sometimes had a hard time admitting she needed to ask for help.

“I uh, actually no. Cleves found me practicing late one night, and I asked her to help me out. Thanks Anna.” The third queen’s smile shone brightly. 

“Oh, uh, no problem.”

“You know you didn’t have to tell them I helped you out, right?”

“I know. Thank you for helping me out again. And for letting me join you at the gym,” The silver queen, now donned in athletic wear, smiled as she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

IV. 

“Hey Mum,” Katherine curled into her mother figure on the couch.

“Hi love,” Jane adjusted the way she was sitting so it was a bit easier on her body, groaning slightly.

“Are you okay?” Kat caught on to the way the older woman moved.

“I’m just fine dear. Just a bit tired from working out with Cleves last night. I think I might have pulled a muscle in my back too. And, to top it all off, I think my period is coming.”

“Oh. Uh, is there anything I can do to help you out?”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to make a cup of tea. Unfortunately, I really did myself in with this back of mine.”

“I’ll make it for you! The pomegranate tea?” Jane gave her a thumbs up.

A few minutes later, the fifth queen returned, two mugs in hand. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I made myself some too. I thought it might be nice to try the tea you love?”

“Not a problem dear. You know what’s mine is yours.” The pink haired woman nodded as she placed the mugs down, twirling around to go back into the kitchen.

“I just have to grab a few more things.” Katherine came back into the living room juggling a heating pad, some pain relievers, and a few snacks she knew her mother figure enjoyed- dark chocolate, some pickles, an apple... a strange combination, but the blonde appreciated it nonetheless.

“Thank you honey. I really appreciate it.” The older woman popped the pills into her mouth and took a swig of her tea.

“It’s not a problem! Just want to make sure that you’re comfortable like you do for us when we’re a bit sore. I’ll be on my way now I suppose. Have a nice relaxing day!” Kat moved the television remote closer to Jane and began to make her way up the steps with her cup of tea when she heard a small plea.

“It’d be nice if you stayed?” Jane offered. “It can be kind of boring when no one else is around.

“If you really want me to stay, I will.” The queen clad in pink made her way over to the couch, sitting a bit further away from the woman in white than she usually would.

“Come here love,” Jane sighed, opening her arms for her daughter to curl into.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you or put a strain on your back or anything.”

“I’m positive. If it becomes uncomfortable, I’ll let you know. I’m just a bit sore love, not broken or anything.” And so, the two settled in on the couch together. “Anything you want to watch dear?”

“Oh uh, whatever is fine. I don’t really mind.”

“How does some reality television sound?” Truth be told, Jane didn’t fancy the reality television shows that the youngest queen loved so much. She had the entire house fooled- if it meant Katherine would sit with her and spend time with her though, it was worth listening to clearly staged fights and watching the ridiculously sappy moments of romance on screen. Kat nodded, finding the latest episode (because of course the duo was up to date with each and every show the younger woman loved).

Not long after the silver queen had finished a few bites of chocolate, the heating pad, along with the heat radiating from the woman curled into her side, had lulled her to sleep. The women in the house knew that if the third queen was sleeping, she needed it, and under no circumstances were they to wake her. This wasn’t exactly Jane’s rule, but the other queens deemed it a necessary rule without the blonde knowing it. 

“Janey fell asleep?” Anne wandered into the living room.

“Yeah, probably like 20 minutes ago?”

“Oh shit. So, we have to wait for dinner?”

“We’ll see how long she’s out for this time. If she’s out by the time we need to start dinner, I’ll just make it.”

“Okay. I’m off to go do big bitch energy things. Text me when it’s safe for me to come back into the house.”

“Oh, actually, could you grab my phone for me? It’s in my room.”

“Yeah dude. And then, I really am off to go to big bitch energy things. Lord knows I don’t need to wake Janey up again by accident. I still can’t believe how much Lina went off on me for that.”

“You know she’s just protective over Mum sometimes.”

“I know, but Jane wasn’t even pissed with me. It was all Aragon. Anyway, let me go grab your phone.” Anne returned a few moments later and began to throw the phone.

“Annie, don’t throw it!” Katherine called a moment too late. The phone landed in the blonde’s lap with a thud. 

“Shit,” Anne whispered. The two cousins held their breath, silently praying the third queen wouldn't wake up. After a few seconds, it became clear that she wouldn’t wake, and the two let go of the breath they were holding. “Well, on that note! I’m leaving!”

[the queens] Kat: mum’s asleep. no one comes back to the house and wakes her.

        Anne: @lina before u say anythin... im already outta the house n doing big bich energy things

        Anna: y was i not invited

        Anne: if u wanna come i didn leave yet. i can wait

        Anna: b out in a sec

        Catherine: Good riddance. Don't call if you get arrested. Cath and I are probably going to stay at the coffee shop and while longer then. Maybe get some shopping done so Jane doesn’t have to when she wakes up tonight  (because we all know she’ll be asleep for a long time)

        Cathy: Please call if you get arrested. @Lina, Jane wouldn’t be too happy if you left them.

        Kat: jus dnt call mum unless i txt shes awake first

Hours later, the woman who had been lulled to sleep was still dead to the world, leaving Katherine to try to figure out how to untangle herself from her mother’s arms to make dinner.

“What’s for dinner again?” the pink queen muttered to herself as she made her way to the kitchen, finally having succeeded in standing up without waking Jane. Glancing at the “weekly menu” the blonde made, she discovered that it was simply a pasta night.

“I can manage that,” the fifth queen chuckled with confidence.

And she did. Unbeknownst to the other queens, Katherine could cook. It turns out it pays off to watch the blonde flit around the kitchen and prepare meals, occasionally helping with small things like making sure that the pasta was stirred every so often and chopping up vegetables when needed. The fifth queen had succeeded in making copious amounts of pasta, heating the various sauces that the queens liked, along with cooking chicken, meatballs, and sausage for the queens to enjoy. She managed to chop up a selection of vegetables and lay them out on the table without cutting her fingers- a situation she often found herself in when helping her mother. As she was setting the table, the other four queens made their way into the house as quietly as they could, knowing Jane was asleep since Katherine hadn’t texted that she had woken up.

“Hey guys,” Katherine made her way into the living room from the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready and-”

“Holy shit that smells good,” Anna’s mouth began to water at the smell.

“Did you do this?” Aragon looked at the woman with the apron.

“I uh, yeah? I figured Mum needed sleep so I just took on cooking dinner for tonight?”

“And it’s not from a box?” Cathy laughed quietly.

“Believe it or not,” a raspy voice, the voice of a newly awake Jane Seymour, spoke up as she stood and stretched. “Kat can cook. She just chooses not to.”

“I-” The pink queen had been caught red-handed- literally. The woman had spilled a bit of the marina sauce on her hand and was about to clean it up when she heard the others arrive home. “Uh, dinner’s ready. I was just setting the table.”

Later that night, Katherine came knocking on Jane’s door.

“Come in!” The gentle voice called. When Kat opened the door, Jane smiled sleepily.

“I was just checking that you’re alright,” the fifth queen stuttered. “You know, with your back and all.”

“It’s not 100% yet, but that’s to be expected. I’m sure I wouldn’t be feeling as good as I do if you hadn’t stepped up and helped out your old mum. Thank you sweetheart.”

“I, uh, yeah.” Kat scratched the back of her head. “You’re welcome. I’m heading to bed now, so uh, goodnight?” She made her way over to the woman laying in her bed and kissed her cheek.

“You don’t want to hang out in here tonight?”

“I just didn’t want to bother you or your back,” Kat admitted.

“Nonsense. You know you’re never a bother. Go grab your things.”

A few moments later, the two were laying in bed together, happily watching a house hunting show in silence.

“Thank you for a wonderful day love.” Jane kissed the younger girl’s hairline and fell asleep.

She would wake up the next morning feeling much better.

V.

Jane Seymour had never been the most literate person. Hell, she had a hard time signing her name on various documents. Catherine Parr, one who people wouldn’t expect to be so observant because her head was always in her books, picked up on the way it would take the blonde several seconds to sign her name. Or how she would look slightly terrified when they were handed notes on their show. Or how she tended to listen to audiobooks as opposed to reading the book, like the rest of them would. Or how she really only knew how to write the letters in her name, and that was all the writer had ever seen her write. How she made voice memos of grocery lists instead of writing them in her notes like she or Catherine would.

“I’m going to the store. Would anyone like anything?” Jane called from the front room. A few voices responded with various groceries.

“Just send me a text please. I’ll pick them up.”

“Would you like me to go with you?” Cathy offered.

“If you’d like.”

“That’s fine. I think I need a moment or two away from my laptop anyway,” the writer shrugged. 

“Did, did you just get Cathy to take a break from work?” Aragon peered at the blonde from her place on the couch.

“Oh hush. You all act like I’m a work-a-holic.”

“That’s because you are. Now, get your coat on. Come on.” She turned to face the stairs before hollering, “If you need anything, text me!”

The two were at the grocery store when the sixth queen noticed something a bit strange. Her blonde co-star had popped an earbud in. Only then did she realize that the third queen was clicking on what the others had texted and was listening to the words they had typed. Deciding to brush it off, she allowed the blonde to go about this strange habit she had.

The third queen thought she was home alone. It really was quite easy to forget that Cathy was home sometimes, locked away in her bedroom working on her writing. Jane was curled up on the couch, the warmth of the fire reflecting off of her face as she struggled to read a simple book she had bought recently. Little did she know, the writer was watching her diligently.

“Shit,” Jane sighed. She pulled out her phone and typed the word into google before playing the word quietly and repeating it a few times. “What the hell does that mean?” She highlighted the definition before having her phone read it out loud to her.

“Hey Jane!” Cathy made her presence known. “What are you reading?” She sat down next to the blonde.

“I uh, it’s this book about uh-” Jane took a deep breath before continuing. “-I don’t really know if I’m being honest. I’ve been trying to get better at reading, but it’s kind of confusing.”

“What’s confusing about it?” The writer asked in a genuine tone, not mocking or belittling.

“I uh, I don’t really know. I’ve just never been the best reader or writer. Sorry. This must seem so stupid to you, you know, being a writer and all. I guess I’ll just stick to my audio books and things like that.”

“I don't think it’s stupid. I think it’s very admirable that you’re trying to get better. It can be really tough at first. Would you like some help? With reading and writing?”

“I- I think I’d like that.”

The two bought various books, and after a few weeks, Jane was reading better. Not quite to the standard that she had hoped, but the sixth queen assured her it was a process and to be proud of the advances she had made in such a short time.

“What problems do you have with writing?”

“I never really learned penmanship, as you could probably tell from my signature in our old lives. I picked up on my signature and simple phrases like ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ for you girls. Other than that, I don’t even really know how to write most of the letters in the alphabet properly,” the third queen confessed, a shade of crimson becoming apparent on her face.

“That’s alright. Penmanship can be quite hard. But, if you already have small phrases known, you know a good amount of letters already. And, you seem to have practiced your signature quite a bit. It looks wonderful,” the blue queen encouraged.

“Thank you. I’ve practiced... a lot.”

“Well, it’s paid off. Maybe we could go to the bookstore and find a book to help?”

“I think that’d be nice.”

The least literate queen quickly became an avid reader and her penmanship became much better thanks to the first woman in England to publish a book. As her penmanship got better and she became more confident with her skills, the sixth queen noticed that Jane’s handwriting was appearing more and more often. Whether it be grocery lists or simple notes to her fellow queens letting them know she was going out and not to worry about her, she always seemed to be practicing. The times of the blonde popping in an earbud to listen to the grocery requests became less frequent, and she wasn't afraid to ask the blue queen for help if she didn’t quite understand a word.

A few months into Jane Seymour’s literary adventures, a note was slipped under Cathy’s bedroom door late one night while she was working. She recognized the, what was once sloppy and hard to read but now clean and neat, handwriting immediately- a sense of joy overwhelming her.

Cathy,

I know I’ve said time and time again how thankful I am that you’ve been able to help me with my reading and writing skills. I figured this would be as good a time as any to show you my skills. So, this note was written without any help from a dictionary or a phone to help me figure out how to spell something. Thank you for having faith in me and not giving up on me- even when I wanted to give up on myself. Thank you for not looking down on me for not having these skills before. I know it might’ve been easy to brush me off seeing that you’re the first woman in England to publish work. But you didn’t. I am so thankful that you decided to help me. You are truly a kind and wonderful woman. Gold star for you Cathy Parr. Thank you. I love you.

-Janey

Catherine Parr considered this her most prized possession, setting it on her desk for her to see every time she sat at her desk- which was quite frequently.

VI.

The queens had sat down for an interview, and the interviewer was quite rude to the third queen to say the least. He wasn’t necessarily kind to the other women, but he was certainly the worst when it came to Jane Seymour.

“Now, I do have a question for all of you- besides Miss Seymour.”

“Of course,” Jane muttered under her breath. She was truly getting sick of taking the brunt of this man’s hatred.

“How can you stand living with this boring and bland woman who claims she’s the only one Henry truly loved? Don’t you think she is the least deserving to be in this show of yours?” the interviewer asked with a devious smirk on his face.

“Who the hell approved that question?” Cleves was quick to speak.

“Ladies, I assure you no one approved that question,” the woman behind the camera spoke. “I’m so sorry. This interview is over, and you are fired, effective immediately. Leave.” The woman directed the last part at the interviewer.

“What? I just asked a question.”

“An incredibly rude question. I advise you to get out now, because this is my property, and because you are no longer an employee here, I do believe you’re trespassing without my permission.”

“No,” Catherine of Aragon stated, putting a hand up. “He asked a question. Why don’t we answer it queens?”

“Ladies, you don’t have to. His behavior was abhorrent. I assure you, none of this will air, and you will still be compensated for your efforts.”

“I think we should answer it,” Cathy agreed. 

“Keep the cameras rolling. You’re gonna want a video of this,” Anne grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Queens, please don’t,” Jane practically squeaked, tears evident in her eyes.

“Why not Mum?”

“Because what he said was right,” Jane breathed out.

“No. Absolutely not,” Katherine shook her head, disgusted that this man who meant nothing to them could manipulate her mother into believing she was bland and boring.

“I advise you to listen closely- because I’m only going to say this once,” Katherine stared down this man, this being the first time she had ever stood up to a man without fear. “My mum is absolutely the least boring person on the earth, and you have no right to say anything about her. She is the most kind and caring person that I’ve ever met. She is insanely talented, she has a heart of gold, and she has more class in her pinky than you do in your entire body. She only says she’s the only one he truly loved because that’s how she went down in history.”

“Believe it or not, she tried to get us to take that part out because she didn’t want to offend the rest of us,” Cathy interjected.

“Jane is the least boring person I know. She might have this whole mum thing going for her, which we all know the queendom loves, and we wouldn’t trade her for the world. She keeps us- us being Anna, Kat, and me- in order. She’s a hell of a cook and a baker. She can be the silliest person when she wants to be. She is not boring or bland, and it is ridiculous to think that people think of her like that.” Anne crossed her arms, glaring at the man.

“What Seymour chooses to publish on social media is definitely not as risque as the rest of us. She chose that. What you guys don’t see is all of the things she doesn’t post. There are so many pictures of her being silly and making faces. She’s tried heelying with Bo. She’s been the mastermind between many pranks that go on in the house. She’s not afraid to get down and work out with me. She likes to keep it a bit more PG than most of us because she’s so very aware that we tend to have a younger fanbase, even with our show being a bit sexual at times. Seymour is the least boring person we know. She may not post all of the silly hijinks that happen,- and we don’t either because we don’t want to invade her privacy like that- but she is absolutely deserving of being a part of this family as any of us are. You know, the entire point of our show is to show how far we’ve come since we’ve been reincarnated. To show that we shouldn’t be compared. We are all here, and we are a family. We don’t need absolute morons with a single brain cell like you trying to tear down the family we’ve created. Suck on that, you buffoon,” Cleves practically yelled at the man.

“We were all the wives of the same man. Just because she may have gone down in history as ‘the only one he truly loved’ doesn’t mean she’s any less deserving of being in the show than the rest of us. And she is a wonderful person to live with. She makes sure we’re all okay when we’re sick or are having a rough day. She’s the first one to make a silly face and ‘ruin’ a picture. If you can believe it, it’s not Bo. She’s always surprising us with new things everyday- like when she beat Anna in an arm wrestling competition. She’s always striving to become a better person and show the world all the kindness and love that she has in her heart. She is far from bland and boring, and she is an absolute pleasure to work with and live with. She keeps our family together,” Aragon spoke a bit more level-headed than the rest of them, but her tone and glare towards the interviewer showed that she meant every word she had said.

“And with that, I think this interview is over,” Katherine stated with finality.

“Piss off. She’s still the bland wife,” the interviewer muttered.

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” Cleves stood from her chair.

“You clearly heard me,” the man also stood, trying to make an advance towards the red queen.

“Security, I think it’s about time you take this disgusting ex-employee out of here,” the woman behind the camera snarled to the men who had been behind her from the beginning. The man was escorted out quickly.

“I’m so sorry for the behavior that my ex-employee exhibited,” the woman sighed. “I do hope you know that none of that was planned, and he will not be getting his job back.”

“That was pretty clear,” Anne laughed.

“Miss Seymour, I’m so sorry for the-”

“It’s quite alright. It’s very clear not everyone here thought that way, and I’m sorry for the trouble we caused.”

“You six have nothing to apologize for. I do hope that we can try to reschedule another interviewer, perhaps with myself, if you’re still interested. Although, I do have to say I would completely understand if you decide to pull out of this interview after that experience.”

“I think that we could arrange something,” Jane smiled a bit for the first time since entering the building.

Later that night, Jane was in her room when she heard a light knock at the door. 

“Come in?” She called. When the door opened, she was met with the five other queens. “Hey girls.”

“I hope you know that we meant every word we said at that interview,” Catalina offered as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“We really did. That idiot-”

“I believe the word you chose was ‘buffoon’,” Anne laughed.

“That buffoon,” Anna continued. “was an absolute fool to think he could go after you like that and expect us to not defend you. Absolutely moronic.”

“Thank you girls. I really appreciate your efforts.”

“Please tell us you know that you aren’t bland and boring mum. Please,” Kat pleaded.

“As much as I wish I could, I still have those thoughts about myself sometimes,” the blonde admitted bashfully.

“Well, we’ll just keep reminding you that you’re amazing, and we love you just the way you are,” Cathy assured the silver queen.

“Thank you loves.”

So, maybe Jane Seymour wasn’t unbreakable. But in reality, her family was always right there to pick up her broken pieces and put her back together. Her family.

[harrypotterthehufflepuff]

Sick

This was requested by: Anon !

Request:  Can you write something where George is sick with a really bad stomach flu and his S\O takes care of him but his really embarrassed because this is the first time his S\O has seen him so sick and she’s living with him now?

*

This was so much fun to write, thank you!

Okay, so I just wanted to say that I don’t think George would feel bad for staying home from work, but I decided to go for it and I do think that George (and Fred) must have felt very powerful and more important when they succeeded with their business so I decided to include a bit of that ! And I hope that it’s readable! Also a dirty-minded George has arrived.

(I also spent like 15 minutes trying to find a GIF or photo to go along with the story... It had to be this one...)

*

Warnings: Dirty jokes (lol)

Pairing: George weasley x reader

Words: 1k

If you’d like to request something please head over to my other blog, https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ronaldandremuslover and i’ll try and fix it for you !

~ ~ ~ ~

"Merlin, you're burning up, George!" You said, removing your hand from his feverish forehead.

He grunted, adjusting himself on the sofa. "Mmm, It's okay."

"You say that is if you haven't just emptied your guts into a bucket."

His eyes were starry and he kept his hand clutched on his stomach. After days of feeling ill, he had finally come to the senses that it was best not to work for a while.  You have been able to keep him at home for four days now.

You draped a blanket over him that Molly had given you on the day you had moved into your new home together. It was brown with red squares. His attempts at playing everything off had become harder and harder as he has become more fatigued. Not being able to keep his food has drained him of all colour he had left.

"Do you not want to move over to the bed?" You asked, looking down at his flushed but somehow still pale face.

"Oh, Darling, you really know how to make a guy feel better." He smirked and winked at you, lazily reaching his hand out for you.

Pushing his hand away, you put your hands on your hips. "George, honestly. You act as if you're dying and you're still somehow a prick. You know what I mean. The bed is more comfortable."

"I feel fine here."

You rolled your eyes at him, feeling defeated you went to make tea. The kitchen was connected to the sitting room and made the house appear more like a little cottage. It was small but it was all you two needed. It had felt right and it seemed as if was the last puzzle piece to make your relationship whole.

You put the kettle on and waited for it to heat up. The sound of the kettle brewing and Georges shallow breathing filled the room. It was however broken by Georges's voice.

"I told Fred I could come in tomorrow."

You immediately snapped your head back to look at him. His face was serious but a small shy smile was playing at his thin lips.

"You did what now?" Your voice was harsh and you hoped he could sense every infuriated particle you put into your words.

Playing with the fringes of the blanket he responded, "I do feel better. And he can't work at the shop alone."

You looked at him impassively, "He's not working alone. He's got Ron with him."

"Hermione is about to give birth any day now, and he won't be able to stick around the shop anymore. Y/N, I've only puked two times today. That's my new record!"

"Don't try and twist this into some funny article." You trotted over to him and sat down by his feet. "Why can't you just stay home? You're working your arse off. You'll infect other people too."  

He didn't answer, his eyes focused on his toes. It was true, he has gotten better over the last few days. But he's still sick and going to work would be foolish.

You laid your hand on his naked ankle and ran your thumb over the curve of the bone. "Stay home." You whispered, a hint of pleading came with it.

Still fiddling with the fringes he said, "I feel useless just sitting around all day."

"You're sick, darling."

George shook his head and sighed. "No, just that... lolling around all day without working is making me feel useless. I don't want to feel like that again."

Now it was your turn to frown, "Again?"

"Well, yes. Growing up in a household with no money, and having six siblings to share what we had, was tough. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park." He admitted, not looking up at you.

Having stopped rubbing his ankle you now just looked at him. You felt sad for the man sitting in front of you, but that doesn't mean that he can weary himself.

"I know. But you can't go to work, George. It's a hard and very energy draining job. You need all your strength back." You reassured him, although, he didn't look very reassured at all.

"Y/N, when Fred and I opened this business, and it went well, I felt powerful and important. I now had a steady, and very good, income for the first time in my life. I don't want to sit here and feel like shit while my brothers work." George looked on the brink of crying, which took you by great surprise. Is this sickness making him more emotional?

You proceeded to caress the curve of his ankle in a calming manner. "Oh, George. It's alright. I promise the shop will be standing there when you've recovered from this shit, as you like to call it." You said, trying to make him smile.

"I know." His eyes were glassy and his cheeks flooding with a bright scarlet hue. "I've gotten used to working now. And I'm not a big fan of you pampering me, either."

Pretending to be offended you said, "Excuse me? I think my pampering is a payback for all the things you do for me - even when I'm not sick."

"But you're my girlfriend, I'm the one who's supposed to pamper you all the time."

"What's so wrong with a girlfriend taking care of her boyfriend? A very vain argument you have there."

George smiled and reached out his hand for you again, and this time you took it. He pulled you down to him on the narrow sofa and laid his chin atop of your head. He heaved a great sigh and took in all of your perfumes.

"Nothing, love. It's just usually the other way around." His head bobbed up and down on yours uncomfortably as he spoke.

"Are you stating that I don't ever pamper you? Cause that's a big fat lie, George, and you know it." You exclaimed, your nose against his chest.

"No, no," He demurred, "You please and pamper me very much and I'm very, very thankful for it."

You chuckled and poked him in the chest which made him stir, "Mmm, poke me again."

"You're a sick bastard." You joked.

George nodded approvingly. "Yup, sick in every way"

[miss-ingno]

The Thorns of a Rose

Fandom: ragehappy Ship: Turnfree, Turnwood, pre-Turnfreewod Words: 5.1k Tags: king au, Queen!Meg, King!Ryan, King Consort!Gavin, forced marriage, arranged marriage, wedding, presumed character death, grief/mourning, abandoned work

Summary: After losing the war to King Ryan, Meg is forced to marry him as part of her surrender. With Gavin dead, what choice does she have? (But is he, really?)

A/N: Posting this along other WIPs I’m abandoning in this fandom due to the reveals in October. I wrote this prior to what happened and can’t find it in myself to continue the story any longer. I still adore the premise and don’t want the effort I put into it to be wasted, though, hence why I’m sharing it with y’all.

Read here on Ao3.

***

The sun was shining on the day of her wedding. It felt like a betrayal.

Meg stood still in front of the mirror as her handmaidens fussed over her dress and her hair. It was a beautiful thing, the dress, a layer of heavy brocade over the finest wool, with rare jewels in dark colours stitched between the golden embroidery. The overskirt was of finest silk, cream with golden pearls hidden in the folds, only peeking out as she moved. Another layer on top of that in red gossamer so fine it was almost transparent, bordered in a strip of gold made from foreign material she'd never seen before.

Red and gold. Haywood colours.

Her handmaidens finished pinning up her hair in the circlet of braids piled on top of her head. They spread out the veil behind her and Meg eyed it impassively through the mirror. It had a long train, forcing two of them to hold the heavy thing in place while a third clasped it beneath the braids. Objectively it was a beautiful piece, red silk and more of the foreign gold bordering it, smoothly transitioning into the embroidery. Splinters of a jewel blacker than the darkest night were sprinkled liberally across it.

Obsidian, it was called. Another thing Haywood's kingdom was known for.

Her nails dug into her palms. Meg forced herself to breathe through the rising heat in her lungs. She was a Queen, not a prize to be won. How dare her court sell her and her queendom off to the enemy. How dare he lay claim to her like this, each stitch a mockery of their 'union'. Remind her and everyone else with each layer, each embroidered scene of Haywood's victories, each bloody jewel that she was surrendering her sovereignty.

As quickly as the rage came it subsided. Meg closed her eyes, fighting down the rock in her throat. She wouldn't cry. She would not give them the satisfaction.

"My lady?" one of her handmaidens spoke up. Meg blinked her eyes open and glanced at her.

She didn't even know her name. All her personal servants had been replaced by Haywood, specifically chosen for their loyalty. For her own 'safety'.

The woman was maybe half a decade younger than her, Meg decided, mustering her. Pale and blue-eyed like most people from the North. She was holding up a tiara made of gold, embracing obsidian ovals in its loops. Another slap to the face, forcing her to wear the crown of a princess rather than her own. Fitting, perhaps, since they forced her to surrender her crown already. She was nothing more than an empty symbol now.

Wordlessly, she bowed her head.

The tiara wasn't nearly as heavy as the crown she was used to. The weight of the veil helped, dragging on her hair, threatening to cause her head to ache during the proceedings. Good. Maybe if it hurt enough, the ache of her heart would be less obvious.

The handmaiden stepped back, clasping her hands demurely in front of her. Meg turned to look in the mirror. She looked pretty, she supposed. Were it for any other occasion, another man she'd delight in the glitter of the jewels, the cut of the dress. She wanted, more than anything, for the door to open and Gavin to sneak in, to make a show of bowing and kissing her ring. He would compliment and tease her in equal measure, eyes dancing with mirth and open admiration, lightening her burden. Meg swallowed, blinking rapidly against the tears threatening to spill.

It could never happen again.

Head held high, Meg left her chambers, her maids hurrying to carry the long train so it wouldn't gather dust and dirt until they reached the chapel. A pure veil and a pure dress for a less than pure bride, but she supposed they were all pretending. She marched down the stairs with determination, and it felt like she was on her way to a funeral.

She should be. She was still in mourning.

Instead, she was expected to celebrate her marriage.

Her stomach twisted at the thought. She knew it was the only way to save her queendom, to spare her people total annihilation. The war had stretched over years already and they all were tired of it. With the enemy knocking at the capital, holding half her land hostage… it seemed like a good compromise, she supposed. Her council had urged her to consider the proposal, even before her love was gone.

She had laughed at them then, yet here she was, going through with their crazy plan.

She hoped wherever he was, Gavin could forgive her.

Meg stalked down the stairs with her head held high, the train of her veil and her dress dragging behind her like a heavy weight, an anchor trying to hold her back from making this mistake. Servants hurried ahead, opening the grand doors of the castle for her. The sun shone directly in her eyes, blinding her, forcing her to pause at the bottom of the stairs.

Outside, the courtyard was filled with all the minor nobles and rich merchants who didn't rank high enough for a seat closer to the chapel. They parted for her, their murmurs and whispers crashing over her like the sea.

She knew the rumours. How she had angered the gods. How she had gone against divine rule to marry a commoner. How her love had brought misfortune to her house and lands. How they would have won the war, had she not chosen Gavin.

How she now must repent for her sins by bowing to the conqueror king.

Hundreds of flowers, white, yellow, and red, were woven into garlands hung on posts along the chairs. The white marble pillars of the chapel gleamed golden and pristine in the sun, the round roof providing the only shade. Beyond the altar stood the mural of her ancestor, the founder of her line, telling a tale of victory against evil, against corruption. It was the only thing that reminded the court of her blood, of her right to rule. Everything else was dressed in Haywood colours, according to Haywood traditions. Even the priest waiting for them at the altar was of Haywood's faith, ordained to his patron deity.

The priest was talking to her future husband, drowned out by the noises of the court. Haywood himself had his back turned to her as she walked down the aisle. A dark red cloak billowed on the wind behind him, revealing dark-clad hose and sturdy, black-dyed leather boots but not much more. On his head sat the same heavy crown. It was solid gold in the back but Meg knew it held two huge rubies and an even bigger piece of dark grey opal between them in the front. As the crowd hushed, the priest glanced up, then straightened.

Finally Haywood himself turned around.

It wasn't the first time they met. A week ago she had officially surrendered her crown to him, when he arrived after the fighting had ceased. After Gavin hadn't returned from battle, that one last, desperate push to free the capital.

A week since she had officially accepted his suit.

No proper courtship nor gifts. She supposed he hadn't demanded any treasures or concessions upon his victory, and that might be counted. There was no time to prepare a wedding, and Meg couldn't help but feel suspicious how quickly a fitting dress was adjusted for her. But whether it was Haywood's arrogance that she would give in eventually, or her own court's hope she would give up Gavin for this…

Haywood's face was smooth as stone and just as expressive as he watched her walk towards the chapel. In that, she could not read him. She had expected gleeful triumph over his victory, but he'd remained expressionless when she surrendered, and it stayed unchanged when she agreed to marriage. He had barely spared her a second look once the negotiations ended and left swiftly. His advisors had shown more greed in their eyes than the conqueror himself.

With all eyes on her, Meg tried to emulate Haywood's blank expression. She wouldn't show weakness in the face of the enemy.

Too soon she was standing in front of the altar, shoulder to shoulder with her soon-to-be husband. The priest addressed the gathered nobles, his speech dry and droning as he read passages from their holy book. At first Meg tried to follow along, but how any of this pertained to a wedding she had difficulty grasping. She tuned him out, focussing on the mural of her history over his shoulder as the words buzzed at her ears like an annoying fly.

Her great-great-great-grandmother had been the youngest of many children, but had proven the most capable ruler. Twice she had rebuffed invasion by their neighbours, twice she had saved their people from starving after a flood and after a drought. Twice she had tricked powerful beings through finding the loopholes in their deals. And once she had killed a great wyrm which came down from the mountains to slaughter the villages.

Meg took a deep breath, bracing herself. She may have lost the war, but she wasn't dead yet. She would bide her time and be clever, and with time she would slay her demons, too.

The priest moved on to bestow many blessings upon Haywood, praising his greatest victories. Meg grit her teeth when her queendom was listed as the last of a series of conquests. And then she nearly broke her teeth when the priest slyly alluded to her as the next conquest. Jerking her gaze away from the priest's leer, she tried to focus on her ancestor's painted face, a rumble of laughter rolling through the crowd at the priest's 'joke'.

Busy as she was trying to reign in her temper, it took her a while to notice Haywood wasn't laughing.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eyes, she saw him stare the priest down with a slightly furrowed brow and a curl of distaste around his lips. She half-wondered what about this whole spiel pissed him off, but couldn’t really muster the energy to think about it for long. The priest seemed to catch on to his sovereign's displeasure, growing pale and clearing his throat, hurrying on with the ceremony. He flipped through several pages and read out a passage with a much squeakier voice than before.

It seemed to take forever till they came to the relevant part of the ceremony, and yet it was all a blur to Meg. Her neck hurt, and she was sweating under the heavy layers from standing in the sun the entire time.

“King Ryan, son of James the Third, son of Edward the Second, rightful king by divine blood over the lands of…” Just a trace of impatience showed on Haywood’s face as the priest rattled off his titles and titled lands one by one. The priest hastened on, “...presents this ring as a promise to be a dutiful husband to the Lady Margarita-”

Meg hissed at the deformation of her name, and the lack of subtlety in dropping her titles entirely. Anger bubbled up in her chest, and she stared fixedly ahead less she did something she’d later regret.

"...to protect and cherish as his lawfully wedded wife, should she accept."

Meg silently gave Haywood her hand, grateful that her fingers weren’t trembling. She couldn't quite meet his eyes as he slipped a band of gold onto her ring finger, splinters of ruby lining a bigger chip of obsidian, signifying she had officially joined the Haywood house under his name. That she left her family, her line, her right to rule behind.

Next he offered her a new signet ring, one no less obvious in meaning. The Haywood bull framed her family's insignia between its massive horns.

"In the eyes of God, and all the witnesses gathered here today, I pronounce you husband and wife."

No offering was expected of her, Haywood's advisors had explained. She was offering herself and her surrender as gifts, but no symbol of that could be exchanged at a wedding. It would ruin the sanctity of tradition, they had said. It was just another way to emphasize their unequal standing, Meg supposed, anger burning away to leave only exhaustion behind.

"You may kiss the bride."

The priest's voice tore her from her musings, and Meg tensed, bracing herself. She knew to expect it, of course, and it was Haywood's right now to demand this of her at any time he wished. But she couldn't imagine betraying Gavin like that. To kiss anyone else…

She turned to face Haywood, her heart thumping a heavy beat in her too tight chest. He was watching her from sharp, blue eyes. Meg could only hope her face didn't betray her turmoil, or if it did that it would amuse her… husband.

But Haywood surprised her by lifting her hand to his mouth, kissing her signet ring. A sign of respect, of recognizing her authority, diminished as it was.

Then he turned his back on the priest, dismissing him. He offered Meg his arm and she took it, aware of all the eyes on them. She went through the motions absently, greeting the well-wishers and leaving her husband to handle them, her mind awhirr. He had not kissed her at the first opportunity. Did he see their union simply as a political match? Or perhaps he was an inherently private person.

One by one the courtiers paid their respects, their wishes of peaceful matrimony laced with innuendo and mentions of their future heirs.

She missed Gavin with a throbbing ache. He would know what to say to these peacocks, just enough sly ambiguity to make her laugh but the courtiers unable to take offense at his words and studied innocence. None of them had offered anything similar at their wedding, their words stiff and just this side of disapproval to be acceptable. Barely. And yet that day remained one of her happiest memories.

Meg didn't want to taint it by comparing it to this farce.

Haywood led her through the crowds and into the dining hall, where she sat through the feast and endless speeches inclining her head in polite acknowledgement whenever prompted and not tasting anything but ash. Her stomach roiled with every bite she forced herself to take.

Nothing had tasted right since news of Gavin's death reached her.

The day passed in a blur. There were entertainers, dancers and jugglers and bards after the meal, and the wine flowed freely. Queasy as she felt, Meg barely touched her glass. Haywood sat like a statue next to her, so still that when he finally moved, she flinched. Haywood stood abruptly, his eyes on her as he held out a hand, which she took out of reflex. He watched her still as she rose, and she met his piercing blue gaze with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

"We will be retiring for the night," Haywood announced to the court, who cheered in response.

Meg's stomach dropped.

She followed Haywood out in a daze, trying to tune out the shouted wishes of fertility and success, praying the gods may look upon their marriage kindly. It rankled because she knew her court kept an eye on her monthlies when it was Gavin for the opposite reason. They never had a child, but they thought they'd have time.

She was so out of it, she didn't realize they'd stopped in the middle of the hallway until Haywood spoke up.

"We have no need of you at this point. Feel free to return to the festivities."

His voice was pure steel, unbending and commanding. Meg shook herself out of her maudlin thoughts and turned with Haywood to face the nobles who had followed them. Some she recognized from Haywood's advisory council, others were more familiar to her, influential elders from her own court. Her stomach swooped and bile rose in her throat. They had refused to witness her first wedding night in an attempt to throw doubts towards its legitimacy. Neither she nor Gavin had cared, then. But now…

"Your Majesty, it is traditional to witness the consumption of a royal marriage, to ensure it is done correctly," one of her nobles rebuked with a polite bow. Haywood waved his words away, expression turning towards irritability.

"There is no need. The tradition is in place to assure a virgin bride, which is obviously not the case in this union, and thus witnesses are unnecessary."

"But Your Majesty-!" the nobles protested nearly as one.

"No." Haywood's hand cut through the air and straight through their objections. "You are dismissed."

A young lady knight from the kingsguard peeled off the wall to stand between them and the advisors, arms crossed over her chest. "You heard the king."

Haywood whirled around, his red cloak billowing behind him as he stalked down the corridor. Meg followed at a more sedate pace, not really able to hurry along with her heavy dress and train. To her surprise, Haywood waited for her at the corner.

"My apologies," he murmured before offering his arm to her. Curious despite herself she took it, mustering him from the corner of her eyes.

She hadn't really paid him, or anyone truly, much attention for most of the proceedings. Perhaps she should have, if only to gain the measure of the man she was now bound to. His unwillingness to allow witnesses was both a relief and a concern. He might simply be a private man - or have depraved tastes he wished to keep from the court. She couldn't say which was more likely, and it left her anxious.

Two guards remained outside the doors to her chambers, while another two proceeded into the rooms to check them. Meg supposed she should feel grateful that it was the same lady knight who checked her bedchamber, but she simply felt emotionally exhausted. The lady knight remained inside the bedchamber, and servants followed them inside. Her new maids descended on her, giggling amongst themselves as they hastily pulled up a privacy screen between her and the manservants helping the king out of his heavy cloak and boots.

Meg averted her eyes, nerves fluttering. She handed off the tiara to one of the handmaidens while another two unclasped the veil, rolling it up to be taken to the launderers. Then they stripped her of layer upon layer of her wedding dress with practiced hands, another detangling her braids and taking a brush to her hair. Each layer she lost felt like a shield breaking, like one by one she was losing her protection from the reality before her. Finally the corset came loose, leaving her only in chemise, underskirt, and bloomers.

She could feel Haywood’s stare across the privacy screen and forced herself to meet his eyes. He, too, was left only in a loose undershirt and cotton drawers.

“Leave us,” Haywood ordered, not looking away from her.

The servants murmured acquiescence and bowed, before hurrying out. Once they had vanished through the door, the lady knight posted there took another close look around the room and then left herself, drawing the door shut behind her.

Meg exhaled shakily. They were alone for the first time.

Haywood stalked to the washing bowl, untying his shirt as he walked. Then he poured water from the pitcher before picking up a cloth from the stack next to it. The movements were stiff, awkward, and it occurred to Meg that this might be his first time. That he might be a virgin, unlike herself. Not what she had expected from the conqueror king, if she was honest with herself.

"I suppose I should apologize for the intrusion," Haywood mused, his back turned to her. Meg took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the privacy screen.

"I can't imagine why you would." She crossed her arms under her breasts, not comfortable in this state of dress around her new husband. "Are these chambers not yours, now?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Haywood snorted as he dragged the wet cloth over his neck and under his arms. "I don't intend to spend much time here. It'd be a shame to leave these beautiful chambers standing empty."

Anxiety wrapped around her chest like a vice and squeezed.

"And who is supposed to move into them, then? Whoever you name steward in your absence?"

Haywood paused mid-wipe and turned to stare at her, blinking in obvious confusion. It was the first expression she saw on his face not tinted by anger.

"...they are your chambers, are they not?" he finally ventured, folding the cloth over the lip of the bowl.

"They are the chambers of the highest ranking member of these lands." Meg narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t given it a second thought when Haywood hadn’t demanded to move in the moment he arrived, instead staying in guest quarters. And if she had, she’d have assumed it to be symbolic at best and not last past the wedding. "Which I am no longer."

"Then you can keep them." Haywood shrugged. "Like I said, I do not intend to stay long. I'm sure adequate accomodations can be found within this wing of the castle."

She wanted to ask after his intentions, but that new line of thought distracted her, anxiety racing up her spine. She bit her lip. "The royal chambers are connected to that of the consort."

Gavin's chambers. They'd remained untouched by her order since his death, no matter how much the court had grumbled. She wasn't ready for that last proof of his existence in her life to vanish, but if Haywood requested those-

"I'm certain there are other rooms that will do," he interrupted her thoughts. Something softened in his face and he reached for her hands, squeezing them. "My condolences for your loss."

A hysterical laugh escaped Meg's lips before she pressed them together tightly. How funny that he should be the first to say those words to her and actually sound like he meant it. When it was his army, his war that brought death and destruction to her lands, her people, and ultimately her love.

"Thank you," Meg murmured once she had the tears threatening to spill under control. She licked her dry lips, pulling her hands out of his grasp. He let her go, and even went so far as to step back, giving her more space. His actions were entirely unpredictable, she could not figure him out. She needed more information, if only to prepare herself. "When do we leave?"

"I was thinking of staying a month, perhaps two. Long enough to settle matters here."

His tone was nonchalant, off-hand, like her heart wasn't aching at the very thought. Like he wasn't tearing the last bit of familiarity from her grasp, dealing her fragile control a shattering blow.

"And who…" Meg had to clear her throat. "Who will be in charge in your absence?"

There were several nobles of high enough rank and with enough influence in her own court, and surely they would jockey for the position. But then, she felt certain Haywood would entrust the oversight of her queendom to one of his own people. A close cousin, perhaps, tied to him by blood.

"You, of course," Haywood broke into her musings. He was watching her with a curious tilt to his head.

"I… what?" Meg wasn't sure she heard right.

"Who better to rule over this kingdom than its rightful queen?" Haywood shrugged, and Meg bit her lip, fighting the urge to correct his word choice. Her lands had been conquered and all but annexed to Haywood's own. In all senses, it was a kingdom now, with its sovereign ruler the king before her. "Certainly you know what your people need best."

"I would hope so," Meg agreed, stalling as her brain tried to catch up with the unexpected situation. A part of her just wanted to move on, to not look a gift horse in the mouth, but. She hesitated. "Surely your council will be against that arrangement, though. It seems… perhaps not the best choice, to leave a recently conquered enemy with its governing structure intact."

"Perhaps," Haywood agreed, a pleased smile curling around his lips. "I have two months to determine the political climate at your court and your own disposition towards your new king. However-" Here he arched a brow at her. "-I will take it as a good sign you brought that very concern up yourself."

Flummoxed, Meg gaped at him and his sheer audacity. She huffed, closing her mouth and crossing her arms, before sitting on the foot of the bed to muster him. She tried to see things from his perspective. His kingdom had expanded very rapidly in recent years, and he'd only taken over for his late father halfway through. He had finished the wars he'd inherited in his favour, but he hadn't had much time at his own court to establish himself as king, rather than crown prince.

"People will expect to see me at your court," Meg pointed out, and Haywood nodded immediately.

"Eventually, yes. I will introduce you. However, I am aware of how… unusual the situation is. Under normal circumstances you would not have remarried this soon."

Meg swallowed around the knot in her throat and averted her eyes, tears stinging in the corners. She gave him a sharp nod.

It was sweet, in a way, that he would offer her time and space to mourn.

Haywood walked up to her, hesitating with his hand hovering in the air, before carefully, gently settling on her shoulder. His warmth radiated through the cotton straight into her skin, leaving her shivering. She glanced up at him from under her long lashes, unsure how to react. Should she invite him to sit with her? Make the first move? The thought shuddered through her, leaving disgust and guilt in its wake. Perhaps Haywood was less the monster than she imagined, but to break her vows to Gavin-

She was newly wed. It was expected of her.

She couldn't.

"That doesn't give us much time to conceive an heir," she blurted out, the words rushing out against her will, driven by fear and denial both. Haywood froze for several long seconds that felt like an eternity, before falling to his knees in front of her.

"You are in mourning," he stated with insistent emphasis, his hands covering hers on her lap. "I wouldn't- I shan't-" He paused, taking a deep breath and gathering his thoughts. "I will not ask you to lay with me until you are ready. And I swear I will not force myself on you, tonight or any other."

"It's expected," Meg pointed out, somewhat bewildered, but mostly overwhelmed by relief. Her shoulders slumped, her stomach unknotting. She should just take him at his word, but instead she found herself arguing. "They, the court, they will- the servants, they talk."

Haywood's brow inched up by increments. "Then we will have to make it look good when they wake us on the morrow."

"Rumpled sheets won't be enough." Meg felt a blush creep up her neck and ducked her head. "They, uh, they've seen the state of this room in the aftermath before."

"So it's a little different when it's us." Haywood shrugged as if that wasn't a problem. "Can you recreate some of it?"

"I meant rather that men, in my experience, seem very… interested in carnal acts come morning," Meg explained with burgeoning amusement, watching from the corner of her eyes as Haywood turned red, clearly embarrassed.

"Then we will stage something… appropriate," he suggested slowly, not meeting her eyes, "and I will send the servants away for privacy. As long as we establish a pattern," he hurried on in a rush, much to Meg's growing amusement, "they will come to expect it and no longer question the validity of our… marriage."

As soon as the bubble of laughter rose in her chest, it popped with a resonating ache. This sort of mischief, of plotting around the court reminded her so much of Gavin it hurt. She missed him, she missed him so much. She wished he'd never left on his foolish errand. She wouldn't be in this situation if he hadn't.

Meg didn't realize she was crying until Haywood cautiously wiped her tears away with his thumb.

It was like a dam broke. She stared at Haywood through the hazy veil of tears for what felt like an eternity, then a sob crept up her throat. Meg threw herself forward, clutching at his cotton shirt and burying her face in his shoulder. Haywood, further dispelling her earlier notions of his character, simply cradled her head and smoothed a hand down her back, letting her cry herself out. She shook apart in his arms, allowing the memories to overwhelm her.

The fear as the tide of war kept turning against them. Report upon report of failed battles, of an army inching ever closer. The desperation as they realized they were surrounded, the capital under siege. The determination in Gavin's face as he shared his plans with her.

Lying awake in his arms that night, praying for his safe return.

The shock, the resignation when he did not. When word of his death reached her on the heels of demands to surrender. The panic, the chaos of voices cascading down on her as her court tried to convince her on the path forward, words that rushed past her ears insubstantial as smoke.

She couldn't remember when she gave in. When she agreed.

She hadn't cried, not once. There hadn't been time. When the shock faded it was all she could do to hold onto her control, to not show weakness during the negotiations.

And now she lay crying in his arms, his shirt wet with tears and snot. Her next sob broke on a laugh, and she pulled back, shaking her head. Using the sleeve of her chemise she wiped ineffectively at her face.

"Two months," she murmured, her voice breaking on a croak. She cleared her throat and repeated, "Two months. I can do that."

Two months to mourn, to come to terms with the gaping hole in her chest. Two months to linger on Gavin's ghost in her life. Two months to play the subordinate Queen, to let her new husband take the reins and not worry about anything.

Two months to herself, and then she would return to her duties as if nothing happened.

"Two months," Haywood agreed, his hands hovering in the air awkwardly. Meg nodded, lips pressed together in a determined line.

"Let's do this."

***

Quick plot overview, for those curious where this was gonna go:

Gavin isn’t dead, but hiding with rebels

Meg turns out pregnant - everyone assumes it’s Ryan’s obvs

Ryan and Meg know it’s Gavin’s though and conspire to keep the secret

this + some other subplots leads to Meg trusting Ryan and slowly falling in love

meanwhile, Gavin infiltrates the castle staff as a rebel spy, plotting to kill the Conqueror King

reveals and confrontations happen. Much angst, such tension.

[skzsoft]

kirei’s birthday vlive

stray kids 9th member au,, m.list

kirei has been so distracted by everything happening around her that she hasn’t had the time to reflect, let alone think about her birthday. only a vlive with her members and with stays will cheer her up and bring her out of her gloomy state.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

december 10th 2019, a day that seemed to have come to soon for kirei. her twenty first birthday. she had been so distracted by everything happening around her and the group that it all appeared to fly by so fast.

and soon enough she was sitting in the jyp office early in the morning, waiting for the staff to signal that they were live. she was seated at the end, centre of the table between seungmin and changbin.

the members were all very distracted, lost in their own small conversations as they waited to begin the live. kirei, however, was just quiet. she had been looking forward to her birthday for months, yet now that it was her big day she didn’t seem to be in that same state of mind. she wished that she could be happier at this very moment.

seungmin did not let kirei’s demure appearance slide and reasurringly placed a hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“today’s your big day, what’s got you looking all miserable?”

the despondent girl looked at him and shook her head, letting him know it was nothing too important.

“nothing in particular, it’s a mix of everything i guess. it’s all going by so fast that i just haven’t had the time to stop and think about it all, today has just snapped me out of it and finally got me thinking.”

seungmin did not move his hand of her shoulder, instead grabbing her other and pulling her into a hug which kirei gladly reciprocated.

the staff soon interupted the multiple convorsations flooding the room, giving a warning that they would be pressing the ‘live’ button in less than thirty seconds.

depsite feeling a bit down, kirei was excited to go live. she hadn’t really communicated with stays in a while, not even posting on the official instagram, so she was looking forward to reading their comments.

“and three, two, one”

the staff stepped away from the camera, and leaving the office. they would only return to tell them when to end the live, leaving only stray kids and the stays.

“hello!”

the greeting was loud, synchronised and filled with excitement from all nine members. the others, they too had clearly missed stays as much as she had.

“yes, so today we are live to celebrate a very special occasion”

chan took the lead while the members nodded along to his statement, their eyes later averting to kirei’s figure in the middle.

“as you may know, today is our kirei’s twenty first birthday.”

the members all clapped and started celebrating, yelling out random gibberish that was practically inaudible to kirei. she could only laugh at them. changbin, who was sitting to her right, grabbed her shoulders and started to shake her as he celebrated. it was very chaotic to say the least.

kirei had been so distracted by the chaotic nature surrounding her that she hadn’t even noticed jisung leave and come back with a cake. it was only when the lights dimmed that she finally took notice of him, standing behind her with a lit cake at hand.

the sight of seeing the people closest to her, singing to her the iconic birthday song was enough to warm her heart and forget about everything on her mind. she would treasure moments like these forever. as the song came to an end, chaos made a return as the members continued to yell and celebrate as kirei blew out the candles.

“what did you wish for?”

minho asked her curiously. in all seriousness, kirei had forgotten to make a wish. she blew it off, there’d be more birthday wishes in the future. the lights turned back on.

“minho hyung you can’t ask that! it won’t come true if she tells you”

hyunjin had slapped minho’s shoulder playfully, who proceeded to jokingly wince in pain.

“i wished you would dissappear oppa”

it was kirei’s turn to joke. minho pretended to cry as the members laughed and made fun of him. kirei tried keeping a straight face but ultimately failed.

“i’m joking, i love you!”

kirei said this, well yelled, while making a heart shape with her fingers and directing it at minho. in response to her gesture he winked at her, earning laughter from the others. chan was quick to move on.

“so kirei! what are your goals as a twenty one year old?”

the members all looked at her curiously. she expected one of them to make a funny comment, but none did. she smiled at the fact that they were all being nice to her because it was her birthday, knowing very well that on any other day they’d all be joking around.

kirei didn’t have to think long about her answer to chan’s question, even though she had never really thought about it before.

“i’d like to be a bit more positive about bad situations that happen in my life. i think i let it all get to me this year that i didn’t have time to enjoy all the good things that happened. so, i want to have a more positive mindset and tell myself that everything is okay and will all get better.”

the members looked at her in awe, letting out 'oh’ sounds. they seemed surprised at how she opened up like that on a live, or perhaps at how 'cool’ her answer sounded.

“woah kirei that was an aweseome answer.”

the members clapped again, making kirei feel slightly embarassed. however she quickly moved on and grabbed the phone placed on the table, which had been playing the live.

she carefully read the comments as they popped up on the side of the screen, smiling at all the birthday wishes the fans were sending her.

“thank you stays for the kind comments. i know that it’s still early, it’s 8am woah! you guys are probably on your way to school or work, so i hope you all enjoy your day.”

kirei said while staring at the camera in front of them with a big grin on her face. hyunjin proceeded to read a comment.

“my day is already great now that i’ve seen your pretty face kirei noona”

all of the boys all cringed out loud as hyunjin read the comment, which had clearly been left by a high school boy. kirei laughed and thanked whoever had written the comment.

“right! kirei doesn’t know this but we’ve all brought our birthday gifts for her here, and she is opening them on the live.”

chan exclaimes and the members, again, began to cheer while kirei sat in her seat confused. she had clearly not expected this, she thought they would wait till later on in their day once they had finished the asc shoot. but she couldn’t help but smile at their dorkiness.

“i want to go first! ah my gift is so great it’ll be hard to beat”

jeongin seemed extremely excited as he raced out of his chair and towards a corner of the room, where kirei assumed the boys had left their gifts. he ran back to his seat even more energetically than when he had left it, which kirei didn’t think would have been possible. the young boy handed her a medium sized box, which kirei smiled at.

she shook the parcel, but no sound was heard from the interior. curious as to what it could be, kirei opened up the box and was surprised at the sight of a small envelope.

“jeongin-ah, was this really necessary?”

she exclaimed as she grabbed the envelope from the bottom of the box, earning laughs from the other boys. after moving the box off the table she carefully opened the envelope, which revealed a folded piece o paper. she took it out with a visibly confused expression plastered onto her face.

“what is this?”

the members continued to laugh at her facial expressions, she was holding the paper as if it was a bomb.

“ah noona just open it!”

kirei did what jeongin instructed, unfolding the piece of paper and reading its contents. her face quickly changed as she read the sheet. it was a plane ticket to gold coast, her hometown in australia. her hometown that she hadn’t been to in seven years. kirei covered her mouth with her hand after dropping the piece of paper onto the table.

the members curiously looked at the sheet as seungmin grabbed a hold of it. he read out its contents as the others looked surpised and started clapping for the youngest. kirei quickly stood up to hug jeongin who had been standing behind her the entire time. the boy excitedly hugged back.

“jeongin that is so thoughtful!”

exclaimed hyunjin. the members all agreed and kirei seemed extremely happy. there were no tears though, as she didn’t cry very often.

“thank you innie, i haven’t been to my hometown in seven years so this really means a lot.”

the boys quickly moved on as they realised that they did not have much time left, because they has a shoot quite soon.

“alright me next!”

changbin yelled as he handed kirei his wrapped gift. the girl excitedly opened up the wrapping paper and was delighted when she saw that he has gifted her a coloring book.

“woah! i was just thinking about how i wanted one of these, thank you binnie”

hyunjin was next to give kirei her gift. he handed her a box which kirei gladly opened. she reached for the object inside and pulled out a polaroid camera. she looked at it, clearly excited, and proceeded to thank hyunjin.

“i know that you like polaroids yet you don’t have one, so i bought you one”

kirei thanked him again before being handed a bag by minho. she looked at him suspisciously, knowing that if anyone would give her a strange gift it would be him. however, as she peered into the bag she couldn’t help but laugh out loud and close it up. the members looked at her in confusion.

seungmin quickly peered into the bag and smiled at minho, trying to hold back his laughter.

“sorry stays but i don’t think we are allowed to show this on the live”

the other members gathered around the back, taking turns looking into it and each laughing afterwards. they wouldn’t tell the fans exactly what it was, but they all found it hilarious that minho had chosen to buy her five full bottles of vodka.

“yeah, i didn’t realise we would be opening these on the vlive”

minho stated while scratching the back of his neck. meanwhile the fans were going crazy in the comments, continuously spamming asking to know what the gift was. maybe one day they would tell them.

“kirei open my gift now!”

jisung impatiently said as he too handed her a bag. kirei once again carefully examined the bag, knowing that the last bag contained five litres of alcohol. however she knew jisung wouldn’t gift her that and opened up the bag. a smile creeped its way onto her face as she pulled out a beautiful notebook with her named written on it.

“i noticed you were running out of space on your other one so i got you a new notebook, and it was custom made too!”

kirei gave jisung a big hug and thanked him. she tended to write down all of her lyrics into her notebooks, which ended up quite messy and ruined. however seeing how pretty this one was, kirei felt the need to take special care of it. felix was next to give kirei his gift, also handing her a bag.

“another bag? this better be better than minho oppa’s gift.”

the members laughed at her comment. kirei reached into the bag and grabbed whatever was inside. she stared at the book she was holding, which read 'please look after mom’ on the cover. she smiled and thanked felix.

“oh lix thank you so much! i’ve been wanting to read this for a while now.”

he high fived her, feeling satisfied with her reaction to his present. seungmin then handed kirei what looked like a photo album. she curiously looked at the front of it, then at seungmin who signaled her to open it up. kirei did as she was told and opened up the album to its first page.

she smiled. it was an album filled with pictures of kirei, as well as her and the members or her friends. she noticed that all the pictures had been taken by seungmin himself.

“seungmin-ah this is so cute! i love it a lot, thank you.”

kirei continued to flick through the album as she said this. there were quite a lot of photos, some dating from their group trainee days till last month. it was a thoughtful idea that kirei loved.

“i went through all of my pictures and picked out the ones of you, as well as some of us and got them developed for this album. i wanted it to be a thoughtful gift”

kirei hugged him before putting the album away, reminding herself to take the time to properly go through it. chan was the only member left. he handed kirei a big enough box which surprised her.

“channie, what is this? it looks big”

the boy grinned at her. kirei squinted her eyes at him before opening up the large box. she let out a sound of awe as her eyes fixed the beautiful record player inside of the box.

“this beautiful chan! i love it.”

she went up to him and gave him a big hug.

“i also got you some records from your favorite artists”

this would have to be one of kirei’s favorite gifts she had ever recieved. she had always wanted a record player but never found the time or opportunity to get one. kirei regained her spot at the centre and the members prepared to end the live. chan would be the one giving the closing statement.

“alright stays! we hope you enjoyed celebrating kirei’s birthday with us, sorry we can’t stay longer but we have a shoot very soon so we must go.”

kirei quickly added onto chan’s statement.

“oh, and don’t forget to watch our new music video and to listen to the levanter album!”

the members laughed and all waved at the camera, saying goodbye in synch.

“bye!”

the staff, who had reentered the room not long before, ended the live and the members quickly began to get their things together to head to the after school club shoot.

as kirei was packing her bag she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket. turning it on, she couldn’t help but smile as she read her message notification.

💙💙 : happy birthday sunshine, i love you.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

word count :: 2.4k words.

hehe slipped in the love interest there at the end. he won’t be revealed just yet! but feel free to leave guesses.

which gift was your favorite?

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 43/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Earth Soldiers HQ, July 9th, 11 PM

Rey didn't know how to react when Leia hugged her. She didn't have time to dwell on her discomfort: BB8 ran enthusiastically into the old woman’s arms, jumping up to lick her fingers.

Leia crouched down to pet her affectionately, scratching her head and giving her a few belly rubs while cooing soft praises in her ear.

Rose made a face that didn’t escape Rey’s attention. She was obviously waiting for the right moment to speak up.

A bell rang and the blonde woman walked over to the intercom near the door. She asked for the password, pressed a button. Leia straightened and smoothed her dress. Rey held her breath; who were we waiting for?

Another ring.The door opened to reveal another woman carrying…boxes of pizza? Rey raised an eyebrow. The place felt more like a dorm room than a headquarters.

Behind the woman stood yet another person Rey didn’t recognize: a man with a sharp blue eyes that pierced his worn face. His cheeks were concealed by a greying beard, one that matched his equally drab grey clothing. Leia walked over to him and kissed his cheek gently. Then she pulled out a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

The pizza girl placed her bounty on the table, sweeping aside what looked like yesterday’s leftovers to make more room for the pile of boxes before greeting the rest of the room with familiar warmth.

Rey still stood stiffly in the middle of the room, not daring to move.

Leia Skywalke finally spoke.

“Rey, this is my brother Luke Skywalker, our lawyer Amylin Holdo, and our heads of staff, Kaydel Connix, and Rose and Paige Tico. We’re so happy you and BB8 were able to make it. I realize the trip was rough and that you were attacked by FORCE on multiple occasions. I want to sincerely apologize on behalf of the team, we endangered you in the name of our cause and we had no right to do so. But you’re safe here, and I'm so glad I trusted you.”

Rey pursed her lips. So Leia didn't know anything about her failure, about the damaged chip. She wanted to cry.

Rose had no trouble holding back her feelings, her face fuming as she walked over to her superiors.

“Leia, Rey betrayed us, she’s been sleeping with Kylo Ren this whole time! I saw them. She was late because she even spent the night with him. And the microchip is fucking broken!”

Rey blushed violently. It was all true. She had nothing to say in defense. She looked down, waiting for the tidal wave of anger, the insults and curses that they would inevitably throw at her. But she heard nothing.

Slowly, she looked up to find Leia standing in front of her. She took her hand gently, her gaze soft and her lips curling into a hidden smile.

“Rey’s mission was to bring BB8 back to Luke in San Francisco. And that's exactly what she did.”

“I don't understand,” Rose whispered, nearly flinching away.

Leia released her hand and turned to the other women. Rose, Paige, and Kaydel stood speechless, waiting for an explanation. Amylin and Luke were far more interested in the pizza.

“I owe you all an explanation, and an apology,” Leia began. “The chip in BB8’s collar was a fake. Only Luke, Amylin and I knew that. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Rose. You did a great job. Thanks for picking up Rey in Nevada.”

“You can count on me,” Rose nodded, her face pale, “but I don't understand. Where's the real microchip?”

“In a silicone capsule, implanted under BB8's skin. Our vet, Dr. Kalonia, will be making a minor incision to recover it. Rey’s job was to protect my dog with her life, and that's precisely what she did. The other chip was just a diversion—and a useful one too, if I understand correctly.”

Rose gasped, suddenly spinning on her heels to walk out of the room and making sure to slam the door behind her.

Rey understood her anger. They’d lied to Rose, had hidden the real plans from her as if she was another pawn and not a ranking leader. Rey would‘ve been shattered too. She suddenly felt a lot of empathy for the young woman, barely stopping herself from running to comfort her. She wasn't sure her company would be welcome. Paige took care of it and disappeared into the hallway behind her sister.

Leia fed BB8 a slice of pizza, watching as she swallowed it greedily.

“What am I going to do now?” Rey stammered.

“Your mission is over, you’re free. You can go wherever you want,” Leia replied calmly. “I'll pay you the other five hundred dollars.”

Rey shook her head. She wasn't an Earth Soldiers agent, Kylo Ren's mercenary, or anything like that. She didn't want their money or their drama—she wanted to go home and curl up in Ben Solo's arms.

“I don't want your money,” she bit out. “I’m not one of your toy soldiers.”

Leia raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips. “What do you want, then?” She asked demurely.

"Your son. His freedom. The end of this stupid family tragedy. Nothing you could possibly ever give me,” Rey thought.

“Stick around for dinner,” Leia suggested in return, though she wasn’t insisting. “And if you want, I can get you a hotel room in town until you leave. When’s takeoff?”

“Sunday night,” Rey answered. “And I wouldn’t mind a hotel room. I can't stand the campsites and the mattress in the car anymore.”

“Consider it done. Kaydel will find something for you,” Leia agreed, nodding at Kaydel, who wordlessly took out her tablet again.

Dinner was silent. Rey mused that Luke Skywalker looked like a man worn down by fate and bygone years. He and his sister seemed to have lived a life of endless struggle. They must’ve been exhausted. This lawsuit against FORCE would be a deliverance...or a final judgment.

“Could I take BB8 to the vet?” Rey asked, “she saved my life. I'd like to make sure she's okay.”

“Of course,” Leia nodded. “Tell me, how is he?”

“He's better,” Rey replied without thinking, biting into a slice of pepperoni, “I worry about the rest of the—

She blushed suddenly, remembering where she was. She shrank under Leia’s amused gaze. “Wh—who are you talking about?” She stammered, feigning innocence,

The old woman didn’t answer. She reached over to Rey and gently pulled a strand off her face to slip it behind her ear. A tender maternal gesture.

“Does he smile?” She asked.

Rey’s throat tightened with an unnamed emotion as she remembered all of Ben’s smiles.

The lopsided grins he gave her before hauling her off to bed, the spontaneous upturn of his lips when he was able to pet BB8 for the first time, the resigned smirk when he’d let her braid his hair, the luminous smiles when he saw her in the distance, the triumphant ones when he made her come, the timid one when she told him that she loved him, the sincere one when he asked for kisses. He would beam at her tenderly when she woke up in the morning. She even remembered the little smirks he tried to keep to himself when he made her laugh, the ones that bloomed in full when he came in her arms and buried his face in her hair.

“Yeah,” she said. “All the time.”

“That's good,” Leia said, sitting up weakly. “It's very good.”

For a moment, Rey saw her eyes glisten.

That night, Rey didn’t stay at a hotel. The underground apartment that served as the activists' headquarters had two bedrooms and a living room, all of which had been hastily transformed into workspaces with the addition of  desks and computers next to the furniture and couches. Rey was offered a place on one such couch, and a blanket. She fell asleep listening to the whisper of conversations in the next room. Some of the others didn’t sleep at all.

In the morning she was awakened by loud voices and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Her feet dragged her into the living room where she was greeted by an enthusiastic BB8 (with tail wagging at full speed) and a brooding Rose Tico.

Rey shrugged internally. She understood the girl's resentment, but honestly there was nothing more she could do. She hadn't destroyed the real micro-SD. What was her heinous crime—loving Ben Solo? If so, she pleaded guilty with her head held high.

After giving BB8 a few belly rubs, she went to find the coffee machine.

The crew was clearly not in a good place. Their pantsuit-clad lawyer was in the middle of a hushed conversation with Leia, who in contrast wore a long flowy dress and heavy bangles.

In an unexpected turn of events, Kylo Ren had hired his own “last-minute defense attorney”, as Amilyn put it.

“At this stage, no charges will be brought against him personally. Only against FORCE, for corporate misconduct. We’re still aiming for Snoke.”

“But he will be implicated later in the proceedings, he’s not stupid enough to ignore that,” Leia said finally. I think we should accept a tête à tête.”

“Frankly, I'm not sure.That would prejudge our intentions for the trial. No matter what this Windu guy says, we should wait until the end of the hearing. For the principle alone, Leia.”

“Did you research this lawyer?” Leia asked, sipping her cup of coffee.

“Yes, he's registered with the Boston Bar. Mace Windu, he teaches at Harvard. That’s probably where Kylo met him. A prestigious lawyer, but very aggressive, with unorthodox methods. He and your son must get along. Which is precisely what worries me.”

“I want to do this.” Leia reiterated calmly.

“Leia, that’s unreasonable! The hearing is in ten days, Kylo will have plenty of time to make his own case, later. You need to stay focused on the here and now.”

Rey's heart was pounding painfully in her chest.    She blushed at the very mention of Ben. She hid her cheeks behind the coffee mug that she raised to her lips.

“Hello Rey,” Leia smiled at her. “We have an appointment at ten o’clock at the vet. You’re most welcome to join.”

“Okay,” Rey nodded. “Can I take a shower?”

“There’s a bathroom at the end of the corridor, to your left. I hope you have a towel because we’re no Hilton. You walk out the same way you walked in,” she chuckled.

“It'll be fine,” Rey smiled politely.

Under the hot water, Rey washed her hair carefully. She had left the living room mostly in order to escape the conversation that clearly wasn’t intended for her to hear. She felt like a spy again. Talking about Ben—or rather, Kylo Ren— brought up feelings that she couldn't put her finger on. She was upset, she knew that.

They only referred to him by this stage name. It was dehumanizing. Was it on purpose, to tell the difference between Leia Skywalker's son and their enemy, the boogeyman they were going to send to prison? Was he Kylo Ren in the courtroom and Ben Solo in the streets?

At least he hired a lawyer, that was a good call. He was taking initiative to protect himself from the oncoming storm.

Rey instinctively crossed her fingers. As long as he got out one day...

By the time Rey returned to the living room, Leia had prepared BB8 for her trip to the vet. Amylin reached for the car keys.

No one else was coming, and Rey fancied, with mixed feelings, that she was one of the VIPs now. Amylin and Leia took their places in the front and BB8, tongue slobbering and tail wagging as usual, climbed onto her lap in the back seat.

Rey gave her playful scratches and tickles now and then. They had both experienced a ton! Confronted a bear. Defeated a killer. Tamed Ben Solo’s heart. She’d found a real ride or die, for adventures and misadventures alike, in this adorable little orange furball. Rey felt her heart sink at the thought of leaving her soon.

London would no longer have the same appeal to her, now that she knew she was leaving her love and her dog behind.

She sat patiently in the vet's waiting room. The place reeked of bleach and disinfectant. Leia sat down next to her, her hands on her knees. Rey slouched in her own chair, somewhat deflated.

“Thank you,” said Leia, and Rey wasn't immediately sure that she was being addressed.

She looked up. “For the dog? You're welcome. Sorry I couldn’t bring the car back, I know it had sentimental value.”

“Oh no, it doesn't matter. Ben is important.  The rest is just...material.” Leia gave her a soft, knowing look, which touched Rey’s heart. “Thank you for making my son smile.”

She didn’t know what to say. What to say to this mother who permanently hid her broken heart under her warrior’s shield. How could anyone comfort her? Rey reached for the woman’s hand.

“I resented you. For setting me up. For putting me in danger. And then I met Ben and resented you for being responsible for him, and then…I got to know him. And I resented you for causing him so much sorrow.”

She had said these words, however harsh, in soft tones. Leia didn’t flinch.

“I know. I'm sorry that I was…such a terrible mother. I’ve spent my life leading troops in a war. Often I forget the people, under the uniforms. I’ve done a lot of harm to the people around me.”

“But I don't blame you anymore,” Rey continued. “I understand your decisions. And I love your son—exactly as he is. With all his flaws and his weaknesses. I hope one day you can forgive each other.”

“I hope you’ll be there to see it.”

Rey looked away. She was going to be out of their lives in a few days. She wasn't sure she would ever see them again, let alone if Ben would be convicted of the crimes. He would be stuck in prison if his lawyer Mace Windu wasn't phenomenal.

As she ruminated on their misfortune, the operating room doors opened. Rey stood up.

“BB8 is ready,” said Dr. Kalonia. “Here’s the chip, and here’s our good girl. Make sure to put the cone on her for a few days so that she doesn't lick her wound, which you should disinfect carefully morning and evening. My assistant will print out a prescription for you.”

Rey reached out and greeted the little dog, who was still a little groggy. She licked the girl’s face and Rey covered her with smacking kisses.

“I’ll miss you, old girl! Oh yes, I will! We've both been through a lot, haven't we?”

Leia had stood up behind her and absently read the prescription.

“Rey,” she said without even looking up from the paper. “BB8 seems very attached to you. Would you…would you like to adopt her?”

[symphonyselfships]

Birds of prey can sing too

Words: 850 

Notes: Hurt/comfort because school can burn 

Summary: When Rebekah doesn’t arrive at a previously planned meeting, Edelgard figures out why

Rap rap rap. 

Three sharp knocks pierced through what seemed to be a still room. From the other side of the door, Edelgard frowned. Surely by now Rebekah had grown accustomed to the pattern of her hand against the wood, so why was she silent?

“Rebekah? It’s me, Edelgard. You weren’t at dinner today. Is everything alright?" 

Silence. 

Giving a sigh, she reflected on the past few conversations she had in regards to this issue. In the past few months, Edelgard had enjoyed the company Rebekah provided during particularly chaotic days for the Black Eagle House. Her demure nature was a welcoming peace after long hours of wrangling irresponsible classmates under control. So naturally, when Edelgard had invited her to share dinner together and later tea, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. What was, in fact, rare was that Rebekah didn’t show up. Edelgard knew that she herself wasn’t one to simply be stood up, being the Imperial Princess. This, and the fact that Rebekah would not be absent without a reason, is what sparked her concern. Upon noticing Rebekah’s truancy at dinner, Edelgard had sat down next to that Annette girl of the Blue Lions, who looked thoroughly terrified at her presence. Edelgard knew the pair were friends, and proceeded to ask her about Rebekah’s whereabouts.

"Mmphrg” was all that had come out of Annette’s mouth at first. She swallowed her food and told Edelgard what was probably the cause of this dilemma. 

“Rebekah? Well, Professor Hanneman assigned her this super-tough research paper yesterday, something about the effects of aerodynamics on black magic cuz she reeeeeeeeally wants to be a Dark Flier and-" 

"Thanks,” was all Edelgard had said in response before striding across the dining hall. 

Now she was here, getting more and more worried with each second of quiet. Leaning her head against the door, she listened for any sound at all, white hair falling across her shoulders. Eavesdropping was not a hobby of the Imperial Princess, but today she made an exception. Within a few seconds, muffled sobs faintly graced her ears. Between breaths, Rebekah was saying something Edelgard couldn’t make it out. Knowing the context, she was sure the words weren’t pretty. 

“I’m coming in." 

The door was unlocked as Edelgard stepped into Rebekah’s room. She made sure to gently shut it behind her as Rebekah frantically wiped her eyes, desperately trying to conceal the remains of her tears. Her desk was scattered with various papers and the frustrated scribbles across them, and several quills were broken. Books were tossed around on the floor, and her voice was throaty, strained as she stammered "Edelgard- Edelgard I’m so sorry, I got so wrapped up in this stupid paper and I completely forgot about our dinner and I’m such an idiot-” “Stop.” Eyes rimmed with red, Rebekah looked up at her, surprised. “.. huh?” Edelgard sighed, kneeling on the floor beside Rebekah’s chair. She quickly took out a handkerchief, offering it to her. “Slow down. We both know calling yourself things like that won’t solve anything. Use this, and take a few deep breaths.” Rebekah swallowed hard and nodded, taking the handkerchief with shaking hands. She wiped her eyes, inhaling sharply, only to cover them and let out a choked cry. “I’m sorry Edelgard, I just can’t!" 

Edelgard felt a sudden pang in her heart, sympathy striking hard for the girl she had gotten so close to. She gently took Rebekah’s wrists, pulling her hands away from her eyes. She overturned them so that she was holding both of her hands, and gave them a small squeeze. Edelgard retracted from her previous sharpness, and spoke in a tone that she had only ever reserved for her family. "Look at me, Rebekah… we both know this work is difficult. Life is difficult, in so many ways." 

Her eyes briefly flickered to her hair. 

"However, I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t deserve it. You earned your place in this Academy, and Rebekah, I cannot begin to speak of how admirable that is. In the Empire I will create, you are the perfect example of the kind of people I want in it. I know you can overcome this obstacle. I am here for you and I…." 

Edelgard felt herself go slightly pink. 

”…will always try to be.“ 

Where Edelgard turned pink, Rebekah went red. She shifted a little in her chair, and Edelgard realized how long exactly she had been holding her hands. She immediately let go as gracefully as she could, coughing slightly. Rebekah laughed, a little light in her eyes returning, and Edelgard felt herself smile. 

"Ahem, well. Dinner is over, and you must be hungry,” she said, straightening up from the floor. “Let’s get some food in you, we can still have tea." 

Rebekah stood up herself, stretching and rubbing her eyes for a final time. With a newfound energy in her voice, she said; "That sounds amazing, Edelgard. Do you mind if I tell you how this paper is going? I’d really love your feedback…”

Edelgard nodded and offered her arm to her.

“I don’t mind at all.”

Rebekah gave a small giggle and took it, and they strode out of her room together. 

“Aerodynamics, correct?" 

"UGHHHHHHHH" 

[sorenthelegend]

Thoughts on Phantom 🌹🎶❤️ (West End, August 6th 2018)

(Hahaha the post was too long so I’m going to put Act I here and reblog to add Act II 💖)

Last night I went to see The Phantom of The Opera at Her Majesty’s Theatre in London - my first ever West End show and my first time ever seeing Phantom!!! Safe to say it was AMAZING 😍 it was everything I could have hoped for and more!! I had Ben Lewis (!!!) as the Phantom, Bridget Costello as Christine and Jeremy Taylor as Raoul, all of whom were absolutely brilliant!

Ben Lewis’ Phantom.....what can I say? The first word that springs to mind is captivating - every moment he was on stage I was utterly spellbound. He puts so much emotion into his performance, and I had tears in my eyes more than once. He really captured the difference in the Phantom from when he first takes Christine down to his lair to when he takes her again after Don Juan - you can see how much the unmasking breaks him, he loses his gentleness and becomes more erratic, and he breaks down SO WELL. Everything about Ben Lewis is amazing.

Bridget Costello is STUNNING!!! Not only is she beautiful, her dancing is amazing and her voice is gorgeous. She had such amazing technique with everything she did - she conveyed even the subtlest of Christine’s emotions perfectly, and her performance was stellar.

Jeremy Taylor was brilliant, my Angry Boi™️ Raoul 😩😍 I honestly fell in love with his version of the character - he was more aggressive than I expected, but it was due to his fierce protectiveness over Christine, and you could really feel his animosity towards the Phantom. Absolutely amazing.

Prologue/Overture: ohhhh I got actual CHILLS when the chandelier went up 😍 idk if it was intentional but the lights flickered in time with the music? The orchestra were incredible (more on them later), and the atmosphere was so great

Hannibal: Piangi, you deserve the world. Hannibal was brilliant - the dancing was great, the music was really good, but mainly it was HILARIOUS 😂 my boi Wade the Elephant had a bedazzled helmet (you live your best life, Wade) Carlotta smacking the newspaper out of someone’s hand while she was singing is somehow a mood (petty goals my gal) also was she flirting with Andre?!? The “AMATEURS” line was perfect, the look on his face was just 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

Think of Me: Okay this was so well acted it hurt 😩 Christine started off really shy and quiet, but once she lost herself in the music she was confident and strong and all-around PERFECT 😍 she had such a breathless smile on her face the whole time, you could tell how much she loved to sing and loved her music. Raoul said “brava” instead of “bravo” and I was so proud, also he didn’t randomly get up and leave like in 2004 so the boy has gained some sense 😂 the cadenza was absolutely gorgeous and I’m jealous of that high note 😩😍

Angel of Music: Meg has such a good voice!! It was sweet and innocent and harmonised beautifully with Christine’s. There were different lyrics to the ones I know (instead of the “Christine you must have been dreaming” lines we had “I watched your face from the shadows/Distant through all the applause/I hear your voice in the darkness/But the words aren’t yours!”) and I LOVED them - it was like Meg was just as excited about Christine’s Angel of Music as she was, rather than her trying to tell Christine that her Angel isn’t real. Loved it.

Little Lotte/The Mirror: Raoul walked into the dressing room and said “Christine Daaé where is your red scarf” and I almost died because somehow the way he said it was really attractive 😂 I loved the harmonies in this, and I really enjoyed the interaction between the two. Christine’s fear when she talked about how strict her Angel is was really good, it subtly set up the dynamic of fear between Christine and the Phantom (which only becomes more evident with the progression of the story). I got chills again at the mirror opening, I totally get why Christine was so hypnotised 👀

The Phantom of the Opera: TITLE SONGGGGG 😍😍😍 the way they showed the descent into the underground was really clever (they had a staircase-type thing that slowly lowered as they walked across it, giving the impression that it was sloping downwards) and the CANDLES omg there were SO MANY OF THEM 😂 during the “sing for me”s at the end of the song the Phantom moved his hands like he was drawing her voice out from her, and he properly went “ohh” when she hit the right notes (the self-caress bit was almost like he was trying to regain his composure)😩😍 I never thought I���d fall in love with someone because of the way they toss a hat away but DEAR GOD it was glorious 👀😍😩👌🏻

Music of the Night: 😭😍 the singing was, as ever, absolutely perfect, and the acting in this was superb - there was a lot of chemistry between the two, and he kept flinching away when he touched Christine, like he couldn’t believe he was able to. At the “touch me, trust me” lines, he had closed his eyes and she reached up to touch his mask, and he instantly pulls away and grabs her wrist with wide eyes. The doll was suitably creepy, but it’s great because we get to see the Phantom carrying Christine (he strong)👀 It was beautiful.

I Remember/Stranger Than You Dreamt It: Okay the performance of the Phantom when composing was perfect - he was scrambling for a pen, jumping up and scribbling furiously when he worked out a phrase, blowing on the ink to dry it so it wouldn’t smudge....10/10. Christine tried to take his mask off a few times but he was so focused on his composition that he didn’t notice (she only missed because he jumped up to write stuff down) and his reaction when she did take off the mask was so well done. He screamed when she took it off and chased her about the lair, trying to get the mask back (and you could tell she was genuinely scared of him) before collapsing on the floor. The “damn you, curse you” line was so full of emotion (he kind of groaned at her?? “ohHhhhH DAMN you” 😂 I loved it, you could feel his frustration) and he then proceeded to fully break down in tears as he sang STYDI. I almost cried watching him, he was so broken and tearful (you could almost HEAR his tears in his voice), and once he put his mask back on you could tell he was annoyed at himself for getting so upset and tried to almost angrily compose himself 😂 honestly one of my highlights of the whole show

Magical Lasso: The ballet girls all ran away screaming when a guy in a cloak and hat walked past 😂 Madame Giry was raging, wish she’d slapped him it would have been gold

Notes I: The looks on their faces when they were reading the notes 😂👌🏻 André did a little sad face at “the dancing was a lamentable mess :(“ and the “what is it that we’re meant to have wrote” was obviously brilliant, it was hilarious - this was Angry Raoul’s debut, he was PISSED about that letter and even MORE pissed when Carlotta accused him of sending hers

Prima Donna: I really liked this one, usually it’s not one of my favourites but it was really well done - when the managers did the bit about “although he may demur/He must have been with her” Raoul stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at them half-disgusted, half-angry, shaking his head a bit. Meg spent the first part of the song looking around the managers’ desk for the notes and examining them, like she was looking for clues as to who the Phantom was. At the end they all sang “sing Prima Donna once more” in a different manner - Raoul was angry and almost sarcastic, Madame Giry looked so done, Carlotta was having the time of her life (but the best was Raoul - he almost spat out the words “prima donna”, so much venom, I love my Angry Boi)

Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh: I would genuinely pay good money to see the whole of this opera 😂 the fops looked great, Piangi KILLED it, and it was all going brilliantly until the Phantom shows up to ruin the party. The croaking was great, but I also really liked how Christine forgot her blocking because she was scared of the Phantom. His laugh was proper chilling 👌🏻 the ballet was so good, André walked into about four dancers trying to get off the stage, and I loved the shadows behind the scenery showing the Phantom. If Buquet was a doll it was a hella accurate doll, it was dead realistic 😂 the chaos on the stage was brilliant, and the laughter really cemented the Phantom as a total maniac

Why Have You Brought Us Here: you could really see Christine’s fear in this, also I liked how on the “there inside your mind” lyric Raoul gestured towards Christine’s head, like he was trying to convince her that the Phantom was a figment of her imagination. I missed a lot of Angry Christine here because where I was sitting it was hard to see downstage right (ie the bit of the stage on my left-hand side), but she moved out into centre stage for “but his voice” - Raoul looked at her all concerned during this bit, and you know that he genuinely believes Christine has imagined the man

All I Ask of You: Raoul is my protective boi and I love him okay 😩 he hugged her tighter when he sang “I’m here, no one will harm you”, and he had a determined look in his eyes and more of an edge to his voice, like he was daring the Phantom to try and harm Christine. It was such a sweet and romantic song, the kiss was more gentle than most I’ve seen before, it was just like watching two teenagers in love, plus their voices are so powerful (chills again)

All I Ask of You (Reprise): My HEART 😭😩 this was so heartbreaking, he was crying the whole way through and looked like he was physically in pain (particularly during “he was bound to love you when he heard you sing” - because the Phantom taught her to sing, I think he blames himself for that). When Christine and Raoul were singing he covered his ears and shook his head while sobbing her name, and it was painful to watch 😭 I had the absolute fear while the angel was going back up because he STOOD UP (please don’t fall off), he was so dramatic and angry and I SWEAR to you he was looking RIGHT AT US at this bit - the chandelier falling was SO intense, it fell so much quicker than I was expecting, what an amazing end to the first act

(Act II to follow! 😂)

[philosophicalparadox]

Cute (but maybe sad?) Cat story time again:

My lovely 14 year old sassy black cat Cleo, who seems to think I am her mom, has shown once again that she's a superb therapy cat for the invalid. Some background:

I woke up at 9:30pm with a toothache from hell. I grind my teeth, and one of them broke, exposing a nerve. I did what I could to treat it, put on an ice pack, and wallowed in utter, "I might need an ER just for pain relief" level misery on my bed all night. Pain scale right up at 9.5, unable to function, unable to sleep, unable to process words or sounds, motor control failing, severe chills, shivering, going in and out of consciousness - the whole shebang. (This has happened before or I would have gone straight to the hospital. I knew the pain would fade as the nerve died, which it has been doing today).

Well Cleo was very distressed at my state of being. Shed never seen me so non-responsive, with blood pressure way lower than it should have been just from the stress and pain. Normally if I am hurt, e.g. menstrual cramps, or really bad days for my joints, she will lay on me in such a way as to press her side against me fully, and purr for hours. She wont let me pet her when she is doing this, either, at the risk of being clawed or painfully bitten.

But this time it was different. As I said, she had never seen me so non responsive, and seemed to be growing increasingly distressed about it. She did several things last night I've never seen her do -

chirp-calling to me to get a response, which only got louder as I faintly tried (and mostly failed) to respond.

She kept vigorously rubbing her face against any exposed skin she could find, outright head butting me sometimes. She also kept "flopping" her full weight against my arms and sides, purring extremely loud - this is usually a very demure, quiet cat mind you.

And perhaps the most surprising thing she did, when the above failed to get much more than a twitch from me, was licking my hand and arm very roughly - this cat has never licked me. Ever. She won't even lick treats off my fingers. But by gods she was going to stimulate me into revival if it killed her. She also would periodically bite me, not hard, but firm enough for me to feel, and at one point tried to drag my hand under her, using teeth and paws, plopping on top and purring purring purring. When I kinda started shifting, she saw it as a sign her tactics were working, and proceeded to keep biting and pawing at me - my shoulder, my arm, my cheek, my hands. Paw, paw, bite, flop, purr - over and over. She eventually settled down into the curve of my body, pressing against me with all her 7lbs weight while I drifted to sleep. This process started over every time I woke up in agony.

It's unexplainable how it feels to have an animal do that for you; especially for me, someone very much in the camp of "animals are not human, and it's wrong to put human values on them". I still won't say she loves me, but she sure the heck was concerned that I was suffering.

I love my cat so much I could cry rn :)