#Britannia Arms

[notmerridew]

Wait for me, in C’s World.

[hisame-chan]

Lelouch in R1 Audio Drama (E08): refuses to get onto Rivalz's bike because he "never liked the idea of hanging onto some guy's back"

Also Lelouch, when "some guy" is Suzaku:

(and a bit of rambling in the tags😅)

[w-m-pitt]

Flags of the British Empire in Asia, the Americas, Africa, Oceania, Antarctica and Europe.

[suzalulusource]

illustration by Shimamura Hidekazu

[jakubrozalski]

'Caledonian Forest'

" Written by Titus Ursus, Primus pilus of Legiō IX Hispana, in the third year of Hadrian's reign (* 120 AD). This will probably be the last entry in my diary. Our legion was ambushed in the wild realm called Caledonian Forest and was almost completely annihilated. Half of my first cohort is all that was left of the IX legiō. We were pushed into the marsh and we will probably die here, fighting bravely to the end in the name of Rome and the Emperor. We were attacked by a demonic pack of the barbaric Picts. They looked more like wild beasts than humans. Some of them were dressed in animal furs, painted with strange runic signs... others seemed to be two-legged wild beasts. They tore us apart as if we were made of paper! I saw our legatus and my brothers in arms being eaten alive, I will never forget their screams. The barbarians attacked us unnoticed, quickly and with wild fury, then disappeared in the fog. Mainly at night. Our shields, swords and armor were no use here. The enemy we face seems to be the ancient wrath of some dark gods we have awakened. We should never invade these lands. I hear demonic howls, they're coming! They're coming! "

Scrap of the papyrus written by Centurion Titus Ursus. Found in October 120AD in the Caledonian Forest. Taken to Rome, where it was presented to the emperor and then burned. Two years later, Emperor Hadrian ordered the construction of a wall on the border of the land called Caledonia, in north Britannia. Coincidence? I don't think so :)) work process: https://jrozalski.com/projects/Ke94zG

[seanchaidh7]

Henry & Alex - from Rule Britannia by @duchessdepolignaca03

His breath hitched in his throat as Henry let his kimono slide off his shoulders, tantalizingly down his arms, until they were pooled just above his elbow, revealing most of his back to Alex.

Henry’s skin was perfect and smooth, soft and pale, pristine but for the collection of freckles. Alex couldn’t help his fingers reaching out and drawing lines between Henry’s freckles. Henry didn’t stop him, though he could feel the pleasant shiver running up Henry’s spine, the way his spine flexed and contorted slightly. The idea that Henry was ticklish made him sigh happily, finally breathing.

After a few moments, Henry let out a little laugh. “The aftersun, dear. Don’t skimp.”

Right.

[bridenore]

HD eight year fic recs : 50k+ words

Here are a few drarry eight year fic recs that are between 30k and 50k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

You can access my rec lists for eight year fics that have less than 10k words here, between 10k and 20k here, between 20k and 30k here and between 30k and 50k here.

Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts by Sita_Z [28k]

Harry did not expect his Eighth Year to involve any more investigations of abandoned bathrooms. Nor did he expect to come across Draco Malfoy there, alone, bleeding and in late-stage labor. Arms Wide Open: Grimmauld Place by Sita_Z [36k] After leaving Hogwarts, Harry and Draco face an uncertain future, raising Scorpius and dealing with the wizarding world’s reaction to their situation. Sequel to Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts.

At Your Service by @faith2wood [95k]

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There’s only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic [88k]

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Beholden by @faith2wood [123k]

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

The Changing Lights by lazywonderland [142k]

Harry returns for an eighth year following the end of the war and realises that although he's put his own animosity towards Malfoy aside, no one else seems to have done the same. When a hex leaves his oldest rival in the body of a female and ridicule doubles, Harry discovers that his hero complex is a difficult thing to fight.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Firebond by Oakstone730 / @i-didnt-wanna-do-it​ [94k]

Draco is forced to tutor Harry in potions. A slight problem occurs.

Golden Age by @lol-zeitgeistic [52k]

The Celtic druids once made a decision that kept magic in abundance in Britannia, but they couldn’t account for the technological advances Muggles would make centuries later. Now magic is dying on the isles, and this is not a dark lord that Harry can fight. OR: Harry Potter doesn’t save the world this time, but he does get a lot of hugs.

Graceless Heart by shushu_yaoi_lj / @orange-peony​ [132k]

Harry is lost and broken after the war. He has gone to countless funerals, broken up with Ginny, moved back into Grimmauld Place—which feels darker and dirtier than ever before despite how much he tries to fix it. He feels lonely and desperate, but he won’t ask for help, and he still can’t cry. When he agreed to help the Aurors at Malfoy Manor over the summer, he thought that he would be breaking dark curses. Harry never thought that he would actually spend his days sorting out dusty books with Draco Malfoy, or teaching him how to cook. Little by little, as they begin to navigate their life post-war, Harry and Draco become intimate…in more ways than Harry could have ever expected.

Helix by Saras_Girl [92k]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again. [2014 advent fic]

It’s No Great Mystery by @agentmoppet​ [57k]

Who on earth decided that bringing back the Yule Ball for their eighth year would be a good idea? It feels like the worst day of Harry’s life, watching everyone get glammed up like the war never happened, like the last Triwizard Tournament wasn’t such a colossal failure. And then it happens again. And again. And again.

Manticoria by @lol-zeitgeistic [70k]

In the dangerous days after Voldemort’s fall, Harry struggles to find a way to be with Draco—again. But as the magical world threatens to die all around them, it might be more difficult than he thought. Includes dying wards, dying beasts, and love struggling to live; sentient magic, wandlore, Founder lore, potion lore, and ward lore; and of course there is Zacharias Smith to ruin everything, as usual.

Mental by sara_holmes [156k]

Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

My Little Berserker by @aelys-althea  [105k]

Eighth year was supposed to be calm. Moderated. Peaceful, even. Draco returned to escape the chaos wrought upon his shambles of a life and Harry to flee the responsibility of a world that sees him as something greater than was truly possible. Hogwarts was a safe haven, right? At least it was until Hagrid comes up with the wonderful idea to introduce some additional members to the student body of the fluffier variety. Hagrid doesn’t do moderated - where’s the fun in that?

The Nightmare Club by Elle Gray [85k]

Hermione and Ron are going back to Hogwarts to do N.E.W.T.s, Ginny isn’t. Harry hasn’t decided, until he has, in front of the Wizengamot and now he’s responsible for Malfoy as well. A tale of enemies who learn to get along, get it wrong and get it on. Everything is purple, some things are on fire and no-one is sleeping properly. But don’t worry, there’s tea!

Not in the Hands of Boys by @fourth-rose [130k] *incomplete

Once the final battle is won, life must go on, although it can be even harder to master than death. Back at Hogwarts for his final year of school, Harry tries to cope with everything he's been through. As the world around him struggles for a way back to normality, he is forced to realise that in the long run, living takes a lot more courage than dying.

Objects of Desire by Azrael Geffen [400k+]

The dream team sign a magical contract promising to lose their virginities within the year, they soon fix on the objects of their desires, but will the bitterness left in the wake of the war prove too hurtful for love to exist?

Ocean of Storms by Bounding-Heart [113k]

The war is over and Harry has returned to help rebuild Hogwarts. He longs to move forwards, but the past refuses to let him go. The castle is full of ghosts: haunting nightmares, the deaths he couldn’t prevent, and the age-old rivalry that Draco Malfoy seems determined to maintain.

Owl Was Well by @fencer-x [66k]

Draco Malfoy is not an owl, really he isn’t. He simply assumes the shape of one on occasion when he wants to find a bit of privacy—a goal entirely thwarted because Harry Potter doesn’t understand you can’t just grab any old bird from the Owlery and force it to send your missives and deliver your packages.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy [66k]

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

red and green are complimentary colours by  ace_0fhearts [88k]

After the war Hermione manages to convince Harry to go back to Hogwarts for his eighth year. Expecting an uneventful year of classes and rooming with the other Gryffindor boys, he’s surprised when McGonagall tells him he’ll be sharing a room with Draco Malfoy. Now Harry has to get through a year of arguments and awkward silences. Or he would, if Malfoy would stop ignoring him and moping around the castle alone. Or: Draco and Harry fall in love through sleepless nights and late night quidditch games

Reparo by amalin [84k]

Voldemort’s final defeat does not mean Harry Potter’s troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it. 

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k] 

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

The Silent World Within You by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [95k]

Harry only wanted Malfoy for one night, one birthday. It wasn’t meant to be anything more.

spins madly on by asofthaven [56k]

As part of his probation, Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T.s. Gobstones, the political machinations of the Hogwarts student body, and one Harry James Potter captures Draco’s attention instead.

Things Worth Knowing by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [164k]

After the Battle, Harry thinks he’s left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco’s just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He’s hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that’s not even addressing the fact that Potter’s got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he’s forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn’t it?

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop [113k] 

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him. When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

You’ve Got Owl Post by @slyth-princess [50k]

After discovering muggle romantic comedies during winter break, Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood decide to launch an ambitious project called You’ve Got Owl Post which matches up students through an enchanted notebook so they can send letters to each other without knowing who is at the other end. It is an instant hit. Harry, without his friends knowing, is one of the first to join. And he rapidly finds a kindred soul on the other side of the pages. In real life, however, he is once again plagued by Draco Malfoy. After fighting in class, McGonagall has had enough. So, as punishment and a lesson, she assigns them the running of that years dueling club. Everyone, including Harry and Draco, assumes it will be a disaster. However, sometimes the people you think you know the best are the ones who can surprise you the most. A story of letters, bets, friendship, love, forgiveness, and discovering who you really are.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[ancientcharm]

The enigmatic emperor Caracalla. Lucius Septimius Bassianus, renamed Marcus Aurelius Antoninus at age 7, was born on April 4, 188 in Lugdunum, Gaul (Lyon, France). Like 'Caligula', he's known by a nickname rather than his name.

His father, Septimius Severus, became the first Roman emperor of North African origin in 192; His mother, Julia Domna, was a noble lady of Arab origin born in Emesa (Homs, Syria)

Publius Septimius Geta was born in Rome, 11 months after his brother 'Caracalla'. All historical sources claim that they never had a brotherly relationship. According to historians, Geta was more appreciated by the Senate and the people than his brother. Herodian wrote that they constantly fought for any reason and "it was impossible to hide the rivalry between the brothers, although the emperor Septimius tried in vain to keep this from being known".

An unusual empress

Busts of Julia Domna. Photos :Bibi Saint-Pol, and Daderot (CC)

Julia Domna always accompanied her husband in all the campaigns, the reign of Septimius Severus was extremely militarized. She received the title Mater Castrorum (Mother of the legionary camps). She made political decisions directly, something unprecedented in Rome for a woman. After the death of Septimius, Julia Domna was granted the titles: Mater Senatus and Mater Patriae (Mother of the Senate, Mother of the Nation), which implied that she, who was now empress mother, continued with her husband's attributes. She was a scholar in Philosophy, and had a notable influence on that subject. She was involved in several architectural projects including the famous Caracalla Baths, enormous work planning by her husband and completed by her son. She was highly respected by the Senate throughout her reign (192-217). After her death, the Senate deified her.

"Let there be peace among you both, pay the army well and forget the rest". -Septimius Severus to his children on his deathbed

'Geta Dying in his Mother's Arms' by Jacques Pajou

Britannia, February of 211: The emperor died of natural causes, accompanied by his family. Caracalla and Geta, aged 22 and 21 were already co-emperors with their father since childhood, but in 211 they had to deal with this alone. As expected, this shared reign did not last even a year.

According to contemporary historian of that period, Herodian : "The co-emperors constantly quarreled and feared that one of them would poison the other, so they did not eat at the same table."

Rome, December 27 of 211: 'Caracalla' ordered the execution of Geta, claiming to have discovered that his brother was plotting to assassinate him. The execution carried out by two centurions was in the presence of Julia Domna. Following this he also ordered the execution of all of Geta's supporters, who numbered in the thousands. Among those people were Marcus Aurelius's only surviving daughter, Cornificia, who committed suicide, and Marcus Aurelius's only grandson, son of Lucilla and Pompeianus.

The curious thing is that empress didn't leave her son, and while he was on campaigns, almost all the time, she was busy with political and administrative issues that Caracalla considered "mundane" since for him the most important thing were military matters.

It doesn't matter your ethnicity nor hometown; If you were born in Roman territory so you're a Roman.

In 212 he decreed a revolutionary edict that granted Roman citizenship to every free man and woman living in Roman territory, and from then on every free child born in the Roman Empire was Roman. This was criticized by historians contemporary with him saying it was "to collect more taxes", but modern historians agree that he simply understood what the Roman elite refused to understand. For them, Rome was a city-state and the other territories were the property of Rome; Only those born in the city were Romans, those from southern Italy, and certain privileged people who obtained citizenship. 'Caracalla' was living proof that the Roman elite had an anachronistic vision; being emperor of Rome he was a descendant of Arabs and Berbers, and born in Gaul; Evidently it was no longer the city-estate of the Romans but the capital of a multiethnic world called Rome.

An awesome site

Baths of Caracalla. 3D reconstruction made by team of 'History in 3D'

The Caldarium (sauna) was built in the Pantheon style and the vestibule was in basilica style; Just two simple parts of a baths building were something magnificent in themselves. It was an immense complex that, in addition to the typical cold, warm, and hot baths, dressing room, massage and beauty salons, included two libraries, gym, impressive swimming pools, a stadium with stands, vast gardens, a small museum with exhibitions of works of art, and a shopping center with a wide variety of businesses, from jewelry and clothing stores, restaurants and hair salons.

The Alexandria Massacre

After a trip through the eastern provinces, in December 215 he arrived in Alexandria. The Alexandrians, outraged by the death of emperor Geta, who was more beloved than Caracalla, began to public perform plays of satire mocking Caracalla and in which they called empress mother "Jocasta." According to the famous legend, Jocasta was the mother of Oedipus who, after killing his father, had married his own mother. Upon discovering this his wrath was such that ordered a massive executions. Caracalla attacked the city with his troops for several days, in a kind of personal war against Alexandria.

Unexpected death

Gold medal bust of Caracalla with the shield of Alexander the Great. By Sailko /CC BY 3.0 /wikimedia commons.

In 216 he offered King Artabanus IV of Parthia to marry his daughter, but the king rejected the offer. Caracalla took advantage of this "snub" to start a campaign against the Parthian empire. He began attacking the countryside east of the Tigris. In early 217 he was in Edessa (modern Şanlıurfa,Turkey) preparing to restart the campaign.

On April 8, 217, four days after his 29th birthday, he was traveling to a temple near Carras (Harran, southern Turkey) and when he stopped to urinate, the praetorian soldier Martialis stabbed him to death. According to historical sources, the Prefect of the Praetorian Guard, Macrinus commissioned him to assassination. Martialis was executed immediately after Caracalla's death, and three days later Macrinus proclaimed himself emperor.

Empress Julia Domna was in Antioch, upon learning of the assassination decided to take her own life.

This seems like the end of The Severan dynasty, however it wasn't. Julia Maesa, older sister of Julia Domna, was a strong lady.

In her hometown, Emessa, where Macrino had forced her to return, she took advantage of the fact that it was a place with an important military base. She organized with the legions a war against the usurper Macrinus. She placed his grandson Elagabalus on the throne on May of 218. Macrinus, who had fled to Cappadocia, was executed two months later. After Elagabalus, Alexander Severus would reign until the year 235.

"I know that none of you like what I do, that's why I have weapons and troops: so that at no time do I have to worry about what you say about me." -Caracalla to the Senate

Emperor Caracalla. Marble. Acquired from Rome, Italy, in 1875. Altes Museum, Berlin. Photo: Osama Shukir Muhammed Amin FRCP (Glasg) CC BY-SA 4.0- Wikimedia Commons

He is known as 'Caracalla' because that is what the Romans called a Gallic garment with a hood that they say this emperor didn't take off even to sleep.

[gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat]

Group G, Round 2, Poll 7:

Propaganda under the cut

Lelouch Lamperouge aka Lelouch vi Britannia aka Zero

Listen this guy has not just one but TWO secret identities, he’s constantly lying to everyone about everything and hiding crucial information even from his allies. He’s a true girlboss obvi because all three of his identities are in a position of power of sorts: as Lelouch Lamperouge he’s the vice-president of his school’s student council, as Zero he’s a revolutionary leader, and as Lelouch vi Britannia he’s literally an heir to the throne (and becomes emperor). And how could I forget he literally erased SEVERAL of his classmates’ memories so his secret(s) wouldn’t get out? He keeps screwing everything up and then pretending like it was all part of his keikaku. He’s so good at gaslighting people he even gaslit HIMSELF into believing he killed his sister on purpose (it was definitely not on purpose). I dunno what else to tell you, vote Lelouch for best tripe G threat.

Like I KNOW he’s a guy I get it but just like vibes alone. The feminine urge to be a revolutionary etc etc.

Lisa Wilbourn/Tattletale

Her supervillain career started when a local villain recruited her with armed backup. She went on to gaslight both her boss and her teammates to avoid letting them know she knew everything she knew—partly to string one of those teammates along a path where she wouldn't slip into a self-destructive spiral, partly to hide her preparations to usurp her boss. Which she eventually does, making her team the undisputed crime lords of their city.

Artist: LikesCherry

[latinare]

anon from before here. can we have a bunch of words to describe gory injuries with we love gory injuries give it up for Gory injuries woo yeay

I'd have to go hunting in my dictionary for specific words, but here's a lovely passage about Corineus fighting Gauls:

Sed et confestim irruens in caeteros, bipennem rotans, stragem acerrimam facit, et nunc hac nunc illac discurrens ictus recipere diffugit, nec hostes prosternere quiescit: huic brachium cum manu amputat: illi scapulas a corpore separat: alii caput uno ictu truncat: alteri crura a summo dissecat. Omnes in illum solum, et ipse solus in omnes irruebat. Quod Brutus aspiciens, motus amore viri, accurrit cum una turma ut ei auxilium subvectaret. Tunc oritur clamor inter diversas gentes, tunc crebri ictus inferuntur, tunc in utraque parte fit caedes durissima.

Now running headlong against the others, whirling his axe, he made bitter havoc indeed, and dodged blows by darting now this way, now that. Nor did he rest from cutting down the enemy: he swiped off one man's arm with the hand attached, clove another's shoulders from his trunk, took off another's head with a single blow, and split yet another's legs from his body. The lot of them were fighting against him alone, and he alone against all of them. Brutus, seeing this, was moved with love for the man and ran to back him up with a force of his own. Now a great shout went up between the two peoples, now the blows fell thick and fast, now cruel massacre was inflicted on both sides.

-Geoffrey of Monmouth, Historia Regum Britanniae (translation mine)

[prezaki]

Marianne's Past

I went and read the Marianne vi Britannia chapter from Mamoru Iwasa's "Knights of the Round" short story anthology that was released as a bonus volume to his Code Geass R2 novel series.

I am 80% sure that this image that is often seen floating around online was made to promote this specific short story (or maybe accompany a serialized release?), but the illustration itself is not included in the tankobon release.

I'll provide summary of the short here here, but please be aware I am reading with machine TL and there may be errors even despite the best of my double-checking. If you want these details for, idk, academic reasons please go to the source text first!

Anyway this story rules, here it is. Italics mark direct quotes.

We start off strong with Charles thinking "I had no reservations about wasting my own life." Standing in the middle of a battlefield, he laments that Britannia is a dying country structured around a bloodthirsty elite. No dreams, no hope.

"Born into such a world, why would you desperately try and such a small thing as your own life?" he thinks, but then Marianne's voice cuts through to him. Marianne waltzes into the room where Charles stands surrounded by soldiers pointing guns at him. Injured, in her bloodstained white uniform, she fights her way through to him with unbelievable competence and elegance. She beheads all the men as the narration describes the beautiful glisten of her sword and the flow of her hair.

Marianne, the Knight of Six at this point, sheathes her sword and bends the knee before Charles, in the middle of corpses and with both of them splattered over and over in blood.

"I sincerely apologize for any trouble I've caused you by being late," she says.

Marianne tells Charles to evacuate, but he remains stoic and only looks at her arm, which is rendered unmoving by her injury.

"That wound. You've killed, Knight of Six. You've killed the Empire's most powerful knight, the Knight of One."

Only he would have been able to hurt her this badly, Charles reasons.

The Knight of One turns out to be the person who staged this rebellion in the first place and Marianne did indeed kill him before coming to find Charles.

We learn that Charles' reign is being questioned by conservatives because he was such a distant candidate for the throne originally and ascended mostly due to the past emperor's insistence.

"There is external trouble, and the internal anxieties are becoming more and more serious. This a country on the verge of ruin. Don't you agree? Knight of Six," says Charles who is feeling talkative.

Marianne disagrees. After all, she's here and so is Waldstein, still Knight of Five at that time. They won't let it come to that.

"Then, will you come to my side, Marianne?" It's the first time he's ever called her by name and not title and she blushes.

(Here we briefly learn Marianne had a normal military career before being promoted to the Knights of the Round.)

Before she can ask what he means, Marianne realizes the truth for herself and blushes harder. Through a whirlwind of emotion she finds unwavering determination within herself.

"I humbly accept your offer."

He looks at her with eyes that seem almost sad.

"You might regret it."

The narration suggests he may be trying to make sure she knows he isn't going to force her.

Marianne denies the possibility. She won't come to regret this, because as long as she's by his side she will prevent all causes for regret from occurring.

"So you're saying your own happiness depends solely on yourself." Charles finally smiles faintly. "You're bragging, Marianne. Show humility."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Amidst the smell of gunpowder and blood, a man's hand was slowly held out. The girl's hand rested on top of his, a little awkwardly, but with a certain intent.

We then learn that this rebellion, the Blood Crest Incident, took place May 6th 1997 so a bit less than three years before Lelouch is born. Most of the Knights of Rounds were murdered in it or executed for being complicit.

The narration spends some time discussing whether Charles should be seen as a good or bad ruler, coming out conflicted.

Arguments for being a good ruler: Britannia was on the verge of collapsing and being divided between the other two super-powers before Charles revived it. Arguments for being a bad ruler: ... well, about that bloody conquest though.

Fun side details: leader of Charles' political opponents was his uncle the Archduke Louis. Anyway, we skip forward 5 years, and the civil war and unrest has now ended.

Marianne is the 5th Empress. We are treated to her in the Aries villa garden, sparring with three young teen girls from the military academy: Cornelia, Beatrice and Nonette.

None of the girls stand a chance and Marianne harshly critiques their swordplay, but she ends with saying they're getting better and she's looking forward to the next vacation. She winks at them.

We briefly learn that Cornelia's mom comes from a pretty traditional family and wanted her to be more of a palace lady but Cornelia's own wish was to enter the military. Whenever she has time off from school she comes to the Aries villa to let Marianne train her.

As Marianne talks to the girls about their training later, a small kid looks out from under her skirt.

Barely 3year old Lelouch enters the scene! He's entered a shy phase and has to be coaxed to say hi to Cornelia. (But he does do a proper bow and greets her as 'elder sister'!)

Cornelia mentions that Lelouch's shy phase is the total opposite of Euphy who is currently following everyone around 24/7 and being SUPER social no matter the person.

Then, Bismarck comes in. He is holding a crying baby Nunnally and is locked in a vicious circle of trying to get her to stop crying by smiling but having a smile that is too scary to comfort the poor baby. Cornelia laughs at the Knight of One in such a predicament.

Of course, Marianne was the one who forced him to hold the baby despite all his protest that he, who's not even married, would be shit at it. She appears remorseless.

Marianne says she was trying to teach him the stress of a mother who has some maternity nerves due to taking care of two kids, and he's just like. Ma'am the nannies take care of your kids, there is no way you are that exhausted. (He does not say this out loud.)

Beatrice, who has many younger siblings, saves Bismarck and calms down baby Nunnally. Nonette, who likes throwing babies in the air, is banned from approaching the bappy.

Marianne tells the girls to watch the kids for a bit and walks off to talk with Bismarck about serious matters. There's a cute paragraph about the girls helping Lelouch do his first tumble roll and him being really happy about it.

Bismarck muses that not too long ago it would have been unthinkable for there to be the laughter of children in the palace. Marianne teases him that continuing to ensure this is possible is why he's here, isn't he?

Bismarck is Knight of One and also the ONLY Knight of Rounds at this moment. Marianne left the Knights after becoming Empress and the others all died due to the Blood Crest Incident. No new ones have been appointed since.

Bismarck tells Marianne that he thinks she is more suitable to be Knight of One than him.

Marianne doesn't entertain the thought. Bismarck wants more Knights appointed but Marianne says that Charles was ambivalent to the suggestion, being not really concerned about his own safety. Also there are no promising candidates right now.

Anyway, the main reason Bismarck dropped by is because the current Chinese Emperor passed away. This unrest and uncertainty has Charles setting his sides on border expansion and conquering more territory.

Marianne grows pensive. Is Charles good or evil? She's wondered often. We launch into a flashback:

“Your Majesty--do you aspire to be a conqueror?”

Marianne asked him one day, and Charles, laughed happily, which was unusual.

"Hmm...Is that what you see, Marianne?"

"Yes. At least in my eyes."

"Conqueror, huh? If that's what you want, that's not bad either," Charles muttered, an even more amused smile appearing on his handsome face.

When Marianne heard this, her expression turned grim.

“If you are serious about such things, I will refuse to touch His Majesty from now on. Please do not enter my sleeping quarters again. I will immediately decapitate myself.

"I thought you'd say that. But, Marianne, there's one thing you forgot to mention. In that case, you would only kill yourself after beheading this emperor, right? ”

......

"Is it untrue………?"

"Mhm."

"You are a person who never compromises on yourself. Just like me. Therefore, your wings are something that even this emperor cannot control, and the way you flap your wings nobly captures his heart." Marianne couldn't help but smile crookedly as the truth was whispered to her from an unexpected source. Seeing this, Charles also laughed.

"Marianne. My desire is not to conquer the world. It is to strip away the lies of the world. In the process, I hope for the world. I will rid the world of lies. That is my oath. ...But let me promise you this, Marianne. The inside of your heart that you never show to others. That emptiness that cannot be wiped away. Even that, I will make up for it.”

Marianne's expression returned to normal and she fell silent.

Then she said, "If His Majesty truly thinks so, I will create a 'vessel' for His Majesty. His oath, the power to approach it. The path - an army strong enough to conquer the world."

The emperor laughed loudly this time.

"That means you're joining forces with the worst sinner in history, Marianne. Your children and grandchildren will continue to be accused of being witches who assisted the most evil king in the world."

Marianne smiled too.

"Of course, I am prepared. Your Majesty does remember what I am called, right?"

"The Flash. It sounds good, but a flashing light burns people's eyes out. Moreover, your light is by no means the halo of a saint..."

"A bloody hero's death. I have never wielded a sword for anyone other than myself.

"Even when you protected me... that's why I wanted you. Would you like to see the world together, Marianne?''

“Even if it costs me my life.”

Since then she knew.

This person was planning to spread his wings even bigger someday.

Britannia, a continental country. However, this person cannot fit into such a small container. He has to involve many countries and puts the world under its control. Even if he was called a tyrant, or the king of Hades with the sickle of death. Moreover, his motivation was never ambition. Nor was it vigor. Instead it was because of the tears of blood that this person shed when he was young. To fulfill the vow he made. In that case, what she can do after deciding to walk with this person is--

With this cut-off phrase we go back to the present.

In the evening of her meeting with Bismarck, Marianne calls the three girls to meet her. She appears wearing her old Knights of Round uniform and tells them she won't be able to accompany them in their training for a while, so they should use this opportunity to come at her like they mean it because she also won't hold back. For the first time in their sparring, she is dual wielding which was her preferred mode of combat during her active days.

We skip the combat and go right to Marianne coming back out to talk to Bismarck. He remarks that this was quick. The girls stood no chance, though Beatrice held out slightly longer than the others. Marianne asserts that a Knight of the Emperor needs no naivety or kindness so she tried to knock that out of the girls here. She expects they will be changing bit by bit from here on out. Marianne and Bismarck begin to leave for the capital.

Marianne: "Then let's go, Bismarck. To help the king commit the worst crime in history."

Bismarck: "And so it's the return of the empress general."

As they are about to leave a nanny and a crying baby Lelouch stop them. Lelouch had a scary dream during nap time and needed to see his mommy. He had a dream his mother was going very far away.

Marianne tells Lelouch that she isn't going anywhere. But her eyes are cold, as if she was looking at a wooden dummy. Bismarck has seen this expression on her many times before - it's the face she makes before cutting somebody down on the battlefield.

Bismarck is so used to this expression signifying killing intent that his body almost intuitively moves to protect Lelouch - but Marianne just hugs him.

"Lelouch and Nunnally are mother's treasures. I will always be with them and protect them. Forever and ever."

In her heart, Marianne adds: 'However, this is only true so long as you do not stand in the way of he and I.' She suddenly finds baby Nunnally staring at her - she smiles, and Nunnally suddenly trembles as if frightened.

All she can do is stare at her mother's smiling face.

Six months later the Britannian Empire starts its massive expansion campaign, with Marianne The Flash serving as Charles' greatest support.

[talonabraxas]

Caledonian Forest

Caledonian Forest 120 AD

" Written by Titus Ursus, Primus pilus of Legiō IX Hispana, in the third year of Hadrian's reign (* 120 AD). This will probably be the last papyrus and entry in my diary. Our legion was ambushed in the wild realm called Caledonian Forest and was almost completely annihilated. Half of my first cohort is all that was left of the IX legiō. We were pushed into the marsh and we will probably die here, fighting bravely to the end in the name of Rome and the Emperor. We were attacked by a demonic pack of the barbaric Picts. They looked more like wild beasts than humans. Some of them were dressed in animal furs, painted with strange runic signs... others seemed to be two-legged wild beasts. They tore us apart as if we were made of paper! I saw our legatus and my brothers in arms being eaten alive, I will never forget their screams. The barbarians attacked us unnoticed, quickly and with wild fury, then disappeared in the fog. Mainly at night. Our shields, swords and armor were no use here. The enemy we face seems to be the ancient wrath of some dark gods we have awakened. We should never invade these lands. I hear demonic howls, they're coming! They're coming! "

Scrap of the papyrus written by Centurion Titus Ursus. Found in October 120AD in the Caledonian Forest. Taken to Rome, where it was presented to the emperor and then burned. Two years later, Emperor Hadrian ordered the construction of a wall on the border of the land called Caledonia, in north Britannia.

[babygalitzine]

“I’ll have to try very hard not to be jealous,” Henry said, pressing his forehead against Alex’s shoulder, the pout returning.

Alex laughed a little. “Can’t tell if you’re just being cute or…”

“I really would be jealous. I feel all the jealousy I begrudge you, the jealousy that you are more than deserving of feeling if you were a lesser man like me.”

“How very self-aware of you, baby,” Alex said. He turned his body and wrapped his arm around Henry’s neck, pulling him close to his chest. Henry ducked his head, his crown pressing against Alex’s throat.

“I just can’t stand the thought of you having someone else to please other than me. An employer…a boss.”

Author fanfic: Rule Britannia. Chapter twelve: Orbit.

[mythologer]

Nude female voodoo doll in kneeling position, bound and pierced with thirteen pins. Found in a terracotta vase with a lead tablet bearing a binding spell (katadesmos).

Greek, 4th century BC

Voodoo dolls (or kolossoi as the Greeks called them) were also quite popular in the Greco-Roman world.

According to the survey of all known voodoo dolls, set specific criteria – the dolls must meet at least 2 of the following criteria to be included:

(1) the doll’s arms or legs are twisted behind its back as if bound.

(2) the doll is transfixed with nails.

(3) the head or feet or upper torso of the doll has been twisted back to front.

(4) the doll is tightly shut in a container

(5) the doll has been inscribed with a victim’s name

(6) the doll has been discovered in a grave, sanctuary or in (what was) water

Greece is where they’ve mostly been found, but in 1979/1980 some were even found in Bath, England. (Which once upon a time was Aquae Sulis, a Roman province of Britannia).

[duchessdepolignaca03]

Thanks for the tags @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @sparklepocalypse @taste-thewaste @bigassbowlingballhead @onthewaytosomewhere @tailsbeth-writes @priincebutt and @firenati0n

I don’t have a lot to share and my brain is eating me. I’m torn between FOMO and feeling like this whole business is futile. But I remain as always grateful for those who think of me in these tagging games ❤️

So here’s some paragraph from Rule Britannia that I’ve already decided to delete and will therefore never see the light of day anyway.

Research was what Alex did best.

But whether out of respect for Henry, or because of the depths of his denial and fears of the truths he might uncover if he persistently dug, Alex had never properly utilised his best skills to help him unravel the mysteries of Henry’s life.

He was also acutely aware of how incomplete a picture the public record painted of the inner lives of public figures, having been one for the majority of his life. He knew that even when there was a mountain of information about a person from relatively trustworthy and less-biased sources, the information could still be misleading. He pictured Nora crossing her arms and reminding him that not all data was useful, and that some of it was just noise obfuscating the truth.

But Henry was a noisy fuck (in every sense of the word) and in the absence of any straightforward answers from the arseholes in Henry’s orbit, Alex felt as if he had no choice but to give in to his most curious impulses. With a few fortifying shots of liquid courage, Alex set about researching the trail of dead men left in Henry’s wake, and the living shadows that haunted him.

Open tag, if anyone still hasn’t done theirs!

[neverwanttofallasleep]

I Never Want To Fall Asleep - Chapter 2

Word count: 6,800

For pairings, warnings, and disclaimer - see Masterpost

Friday, December 16th, 2022

Manchester, England to London, England

You finally wake up to the chime of your third alarm, ringing out loudly into the dark hotel room. 6.35am. You’ve always struggled with waking up early, especially after a show night.

You groan, rolling over to silence your phone. You reach your arm back to pat the space next to you, knowing Jake is just as heavy a sleeper and usually requires an in-person wake up call, only to find the right side of the large bed empty.

Suddenly the memory of last night rushes back to you, and you jolt upright. As you slowly return to full consciousness, you become aware of the puffy tightness around your eyes and the ache in your chest. No doubt the residual evidence of crying yourself to sleep.

After Jake had stormed back down the hotel corridor to the elevator, you’d scrambled to find your room key and shut yourself in as quickly as you could manage. 

You’d thrown your bags down onto the leather armchair in the corner of the room, fighting back tears, suddenly more angry than upset at his outburst. You hadn’t deserved that. If you felt guilty, so should he. It was his relationship at stake, not yours. You hadn’t made it up in your head, you knew there was something between the two of you, something that had your stomach in knots every time you were around him.

You’d sunken down onto the scratchy hotel carpet, each emotion hitting you like a brick. This job, this tour, it meant so much to you. You loved the work, and the music, getting to travel the world and seeing new cities each day. You’d truly been living your dream. But at the centre of it all, there was Jake. From the moment he’d first spoken to you at that crew party, you’d felt drawn to him. Like your centre of gravity had shifted. Every exciting moment you’d had while you’d been on the road, every new experience, it was all made better when you could share it with him.

You’d hugged your knees to your chest, finally allowing yourself to choke out the sobs you’d been holding in since he’d raised his voice at you. What did this all mean? You couldn’t continue this friendship as it had been. To be totally honest, in that moment, you weren’t even sure if he wanted to. But you’d known, whatever had occurred tonight, it couldn’t happen again. You were so embarrassed that you’d told him your relationship had felt like more than friendship to you. You knew he couldn’t possibly feel that way about you, he had Lily. Whatever these feelings were, they were yours, and yours alone. You couldn’t let yourself feel that way. He was off limits for you, and if that meant sacrificing your friendship, then so be it.

You’d sat there on the floor, switching between crying, sucking in sharp breaths, and just sitting in silence with your head resting on your knees, for what felt like hours. When you’d finally pulled out your phone, you saw a notification on your lock screen. 1 new text. Quietly hoping for a message from him, you’d swiped it open, only to find a reply from the dry-cleaner. 

12.10am Pete M (GVF dry cleaner): No worries, Y/N. Britannia Hotel, yes? Text me your room number - see you at 7.

Shit. The jumpsuit. You quickly replied with the details and locked your phone.

1.33am. You still had work to do, and as much as you wanted to crawl into bed and sleep forever, you knew that the show must go on.

You'd gotten up slowly, stretching out your arms and legs from sitting for so long. You trudged toward the small bathroom, only glancing at yourself in the mirror briefly before reaching in to turn on the shower. The back of your neck was still sticky and you could smell the reek of tequila in your hair and clothes as you stripped them off.

You’d climbed into the shower and hissed when the too-hot water hit your shoulders, but you didn’t mind. You needed it to wake you up, and draw the tension from your muscles. You stood under the spray for a while, splashing your face, hoping to remove some of the redness from your eyes. You’d scrubbed your arms and legs, quickly washing your hair, and when you felt sufficiently clean, you reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out.

After wrapping your hair in a fluffy hotel towel and throwing on an old t-shirt and a pair of underwear, you grabbed your back-pack and tote from the chair and sat yourself up in bed to do your mending.

It didn’t take long, it was just a small tear in the chiffon, right on the seam of the arm and shoulder. After 20 minutes or so, you were happy with your work, your fingers a little sore from hand stitching, and you decided you were done for the night.

You knew with a night off tomorrow in London you’d have plenty of time to prepare the clean clothes once Pete returned them, and your one urgent job was now complete. You were satisfied that the mundane work had taken your mind off of Jake, for the time being.

You’d hung up Josh’s jumpsuit on a wire hanger on the back of the door, repacking your sewing supplies and your empty tote into your back-pack, placing them back near your duffle bag, where you’d dumped your jeans and crew t-shirt from the day. You turned off the overhead light, crawling back into the soft bed. You’d wished that Jake had been there with you. You missed the comfort of a warm body next to you, the familiar sound of his breathing when he inevitably fell asleep before you, and the way he would drape his arm over your waist in the middle of the night.

You’d sighed, reaching up to flick off the bedside lamp, setting your alarms and burrowing down under the covers. In the silence, it took you a while to get to sleep, Jake’s sad expression painted on the inside of your eyelids. But when sleep finally found you, you slept like the dead.

Now, you draw the curtains, the sun not yet having begun to rise over the sprawling, grey city. Yesterday, Manchester had seemed full of possibility. This morning, the dark sky and buildings leeched of colour in the moonlight mirror your mood. You walk over to the small dresser opposite the bed, flicking on the electric kettle. Tea will have to do this morning, you’re over the instant coffee packets you’ve been finding in UK hotels. As the kettle boils, you make your way to the bathroom, running a brush through your sleep-dried hair and pulling it up into a messy bun.

You pack away the remainder of your toiletries, washing your face, rolling on some deodorant and applying some SPF and mascara before zipping up the bag and stowing it back in your duffle. You pull out a casual outfit, just some comfy linen pants and a green sweater, stripping your pyjamas and tossing them into the bag before zipping it closed. 

You get dressed leisurely, having given yourself an extra buffer of time. You kind of regret this, as it gives you more minutes to stew over the events of the night before. Once you’ve donned your boots, you lay out your coat and scarf on the bed, ready to brave the December chill of the city in less than half an hour. You check your phone for the time. 6.54am. Pete will be here in a few minutes. You brew your tea, giving Josh’s jumpsuit a final once over as you let the teabag steep. You’re a little proud of your handiwork, considering your emotional state.

As you’re topping up your tea with one of those little plastic packets of milk, there’s a quiet knock at the door. You open it and greet Pete good morning.

“Cold this morning.” He grumbles.

You chuckle, retrieving the garment from the hook and handing it to him.

“Sure is. See you in London!”

He gives a gruff wave and heads back down the hallway.

After you’ve had your tea and sufficient time to panic over how things will go with Jake today, you bundle up in your warm clothes, pack your final items into your purse and make your way down to the hotel lobby. 

When you make it out the front entrance, it’s still dark, and the chill bites your cheeks immediately. You beeline for the crew bus. Jake usually makes space for you on one of the sleeper buses with him and the band, but you don’t feel like you’ll be welcome there today.

As you’re loading your bags into the back of the mini-bus, Sam and Lennon catch you as they’re heading out into the porte-cochere. 

“Morning, Y/N!” Lennon chirps. She looks undeniably sprightly this morning, especially when standing next to Sammy, who looks like he’s about to fall flat on his face at any moment, gripping tightly to a paper cup of what you assume to be coffee. It doesn’t even look like his eyes have fully opened yet.

You give them a small wave and turn back to loading your belongings.

She gives Sam a pat on shoulder, which makes him wince, before bounding over to you.

“We’re sharing the bus with Jake today, Danny and Josh are gonna take the other one. So we can catch up!” She giggles excitedly. “Sammy’s not feeling too flash - I can’t imagine Jake is either, to be honest, after the amount those two drank last night.” She’s laughing as she says this, but it makes your stomach drop. It doesn’t take much to piece together why Jake would’ve wanted to get shitfaced last night. “But, I reckon they’ll sleep the whole trip, which is perfect ‘cause I just wanna hang out with you!”

You shake your head, unsure how to navigate this. Would Jake want them all to know what happened between the two of you last night? You assumed he’d go right to Sam’s room to have a bitch about it, but given Lennon’s assumption that you’d be riding on his bus, it sounds like he didn’t.

“I dunno. I’m not feeling 100% today.” It’s not totally a lie, your head is swimming with anxiety. “I might ride on the crew bus so I can take a nap.”

She scoffs. “Don’t be silly, hon! The boys aren’t feeling good either, and you’d be much more comfy on one of the bunks if you want to nap. As long as we get to ride together - you can sleep the whole trip if you need to! I’ve got some reading to catch up on anyway.” You close up the trunk of the mini bus, but not before she snags your purse and throws it over her shoulder. She puts her arm around you, turning and leading you both toward the first of the two giant, black buses. 

You haven’t seen any sign of Jake yet, which is good, but at the same time also kind of unsettling. You’re wondering what kind of state he’ll be in this morning, but if Sammy is any indication, it won’t be good. Jake is always in a shitty mood when he’s got a hangover. 

Lennon leads you up the stairs onto the bus, where Sam is already sprawled across the small sofa in the front compartment. As you walk through, he groans loudly and throws his arm across his eyes.

Lennon sighs, reaching down to brush some hair from his forehead.

“Drama queen.” She mutters. 

He peeks his eyes out. “Wrong brother.” He retorts. “Josh is the drama queen.”

“Seems it runs in the family.” She chides.

He huffs and covers his eyes again.

You situate yourself at the small table across the way from the sofa, pulling your knitting out of your purse. You’ve always been one to hand-make gifts, and you’d been knitting small things for the boys in the band for Christmas presents. Luckily you’d already finished Jake’s, and it was stowed away safely in your duffle, not to be thought about. You were working on a chunky purple and navy scarf for Danny, and you were about a third of the way into it.

Lennon slides into the bench seat opposite you.

“That’s gorgeous. Who’s it for?”

You smile at your work. “Danny. It’s a Christmas gift. These are his colours, I think.”

She grins, running her hand over the soft wool. “Definitely.” She hums. “I need coffee.”

Sam perks up at this. “There’s a hot water urn under the sink.” He points to the little kitchenette behind the driver’s seat. “And a French press too. And coffee grounds, I think.”

Lennon rolls her eyes and gets up.

She gestures her chin at you. “You want one?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I’d kill for a real coffee after what we’ve been having here.”

She giggles. “Amen to that!”

As Lennon starts to prepare the necessary items for coffee, you hear boots clacking up the bus steps. You’d know the sound of those footsteps anywhere.

“Back from the dead!” Lennon greets him with a grin. “Good morning, Jake.”

“Yeah, ‘morning.” He nods at her. He smiles when he sees his brother napping on the couch. “You look about as good as I feel, Sammy.” 

Sam chuckles from under his arm. “Well, you said it. At least we don’t have to drive.”

Jake looks like he’s about to reply with some quip, when he spots you sitting at the table behind Lennon.

“Uh, I’m going back to sleep.” He says quickly.

He makes a small noise of acknowledgement toward you, which sounds a lot like a grunt, and then brushes past and draws the curtain to the bunk compartment.

You aren’t quite sure what you were expecting from him today, but you guess avoidance is better than confrontation. It still stings though. If this had been yesterday morning, he might have slid into the booth next to you. 

He might’ve admired your knitting, telling you how impressed he was at how much you’d managed to complete in the past 24 hours. He might have teased you, asking what you were gonna make for his gift, because you’d been so sneaky about hiding it from him. He might have slung his arm around the back of the bench seat while you both gratefully accepted your steaming mugs of coffee from Lennon, occasionally letting his finger tips brush over your shoulder with the movement of the bus. He might have moved to the couch when Sammy finally retired to the bunks, pulling out his acoustic and strumming a private show for you and Lennon. You loved watching him when the music would just come to him. Like he was channeling it from some higher power. He could just play and play and play, tuning out the world, glancing at you every so often just to catch you staring.

Instead, you thank Lennon as she places a single mug of coffee on the small table, and goes over to sit on the couch with Sam’s head in her lap.

About an hour in, when you’ve done a sufficient amount of knitting and downed two coffees, the 4 hours of sleep you’ve had is starting to creep up on you. 

Lennon catches you, unable to keep your eyes open.

“Oh, hon, you do look exhausted. Go have a lie down in the bunks. It’ll make the ride go so much faster.”

You smile at her appreciatively, but realise this would mean having to interact with Jake, or at the very least, invade his space.

“I’m alright. I’ll lay on the couch if Sammy moves to the bunks.”

Sam grunts. “Not moving. M’comfy here.”

Lennon laughs, picking up his head and placing it on a cushion so she can get up from her spot.

“C’mon, girl. You need your beauty rest. You’ve got a job to do here too, don’t you forget.”

She’s right, and you realise you won’t get any work done today if you don’t sleep. You’ll just crash as soon as you get the hotel.

She helps you pack your knitting back into your purse and ushers you down the hall. At this moment, you really wish this was one of those buses with a private double bed at the rear. At least then, you could rest assured Jake would’ve taken it, and you could take one of the bunks without fear of running into him. Instead, this one just has a tiny bathroom at the back with a toilet and shower, but only 4 beds, 2 bunks on either side of the walkway.

Lennon pulls back the curtain and then draws it closed behind you as you step into the small space. You can hear small snores coming from the bed Jake has claimed, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You won’t actually have to speak to him. Just fear his wrath if he wakes up and sees you across the way.

They are small bunks, but comfortable enough, especially with how sleepy you are. You place your bag and coat on the top bunk, sitting down on the bottom one to pull off your boots. You place them delicately under the bed, careful not to make any noise. You stand again to grab your headphones from your purse, when your phone slips out of your pocket and clatters to the floor.

“Fuck.” You mutter.

“What the fuck was that?” Jake groans, eyes still closed.

“Sorry, dropped my phone.” His eyes shoot open when he realises it’s you standing in front of him.

“Right.” He says quietly. “Uh, why are you in here?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You cringe a bit at the confession, knowing he’s the reason you slept so poorly. “Lennon forced me to come in here and take a nap because I couldn’t keep my eyes open.” You know you’re rambling, but you don’t know how to navigate this situation. “Sorry if you don’t want me in here, it’s just that, Sam’s taken up the couch and there’s no other beds.” You’ve never had any type of bad energy with Jake, not even a disagreement. This is new territory for both of you.

He sighs. “Ok. Keep it down, please.” He rolls over to face the wall, tucking the blanket up over his ears.

You slide into the small bed, pulling the blanket up around you, and place your headphones over your ears. You unlock your phone to choose some music to help you sleep. You almost always listen to music to fall asleep. You’ve done it ever since you were a kid. You’ve tried white noise, sleep-casts, rain sounds, but nothing puts you to sleep quite like your favourite songs. 

The only time you don’t, is when you have someone sleeping next to you. The sound of their breathing is just as good. Stella snored like a chainsaw, and you’d secretly loved it. The reassurance of knowing she was there had always relaxed you. This was also especially true for Jake. He’s broad, and warm like a space heater, and breathes heavily through his nose. It was so comforting.

Right now, though, knowing how he’s feeling about you, you can’t stand to hear him, or even acknowledge the fact that he’s less than 4 feet away from you.

You put on ‘Line of Fire’ by Junip, turn to face the wall, and quickly fall asleep.

You wake up to the sound of laughter, it sounds like Sammy. You groan and stretch, your limbs tight from the cramped space. You’ve rolled over in your sleep, your headphones have slid down around your neck, and when you open your eyes, you see Jake’s empty bunk across from you.

You hear laughing again, louder this time, and you can hear Jake laughing, too.

Fuck.

You can’t go out there, you’ll ruin his mood. 

You’re beginning to feel guilty about your conversation last night. You know he overreacted. He didn’t have any right to go off at you like that. But, you keep reminding yourself, it’s not his fault that you have feelings for him. And maybe, he really did have no idea until last night. Maybe that spark you feel between the two of you, just isn’t there for him. What he said about you being only a friend to him, it had to be true, right? Otherwise what reason would he have had to get so mad?

Plus, it’s his tour. His band, his family. Like you said last night. You’re his employee. Friendship aside, it would be inappropriate for you to treat him any differently than you did yesterday, or any of the days before. You’ve gotta keep it professional and put his feelings first, and your emotional involvement aside.

You realise you really have to pee, so you quietly climb up from the bunk and head to the small bathroom. When you wash your hands, you splash your face with some water, trying to revive yourself. You swipe under your eyes with some paper towel to remove your running mascara, and re-do your bun. You look fine. No one cares, anyway. 

When you open the door to head back to your bunk, Sam has drawn the curtains in the walkway.

“Good morning, princess! How’d you sleep?”

“Oh, yeah. Not too bad. As well as one can in these beds.” You smile ruefully. “What time is it? How long have we got left?”

“Almost there! Like half an hour, they reckon.” He seems much more alive than earlier. “Come join, we’re having a celebratory hair of the dog.” 

Ah, they’re drinking again. That must be what’s got both Sam and Jake in such good spirits.

You sigh. “Nah, I think I’m good. I’ve got work to do when we get to London, unlike you lot. I might just sit in here a bit longer.”

Sammy whines. “Come onnnnn, Y/N! We’re having fun! Plus, Lennon missed you so much. Spend some time with her before I whisk her away to the next hotel room.”

You concede, nodding your head, and follow Sam out to the main compartment.

Lennon is sitting in the booth, and Sam slides in opposite her. This leaves the other seat on the couch as the only free one.

Next to Jake.

You sit down, leaving as much space as you can between the two of you.

You’ve come to the decision that you’re not upset with him. You’re upset that you might be losing your friend, and you’re kind of pissed off that he’s not acknowledging you, even now as he and Sam banter over their vodka sodas, and Lennon leans over to you every few minutes, asking to be caught up on the inside jokes. You’re annoyed that he was so angry last night, and didn’t give you a chance to have a real conversation about things.

But you’re not upset with him. You’re scared of your own feelings, and you wonder even if things between you are repairable, whether you should bother at all.

You glance over to him every few minutes, and a couple of times you catch him looking at you, too. He doesn’t deliberately exclude you from the conversation, but if you had to guess, he was probably just trying not to rouse suspicion from the others. He never speaks to you directly, and you feel your heart fracturing just a little bit more.

When you arrive at the hotel in London, you disembark the bus as quickly as you can, keen to get away from the awkwardness you’ve endured for the last 40 minutes. It’s a little warmer here than it was in Manchester, but not by much. You head over to the mini-bus, which has beaten you all there significantly, your bags being the last to be unloaded.

You grab your things, and head into the lobby to retrieve your room key.

The band and crew are standing in a loose circle around the elevators, waiting for Craig, the tour manager, to provide the necessary information required for your stay in London. It’s about midday now, and you’ll be here for two nights total, with a show at the Alexandra Palace tomorrow.

Only two more nights, then back home. You can get through two nights.

Josh comes up by your side, slinging an arm around you.

“How was the ride?” He asks, chewing on a granola bar.

You muster as much of a smile as you can manage. “Oh, yeah. Nothing to report, really. I slept most of the way. Needed to catch up.”

He chuckles. “Well, we need you in ship-shape for the next couple’a days, so I for one am glad to hear it!”

You gather Jake hasn’t spoken to him, either.

“What are your plans for the holidays, Y/N? I keep meaning to ask you.”

“Not much, to be honest. Gonna spend them in New York. Got a few college friends I’ve been meaning to catch up with, and the tour will provide lodgings for the crew that’s staying in the city, so I figure I might as well, you know?” You try to keep yourself from sounding unenthusiastic, but it’s not really anything special.

“Aw, well, that sounds nice. At least you’ll get to have a White Christmas, hey?” He begins to hum Bing Crosby in your ear, and you giggle.

“Exactly. Might go see the ball drop. I’ve never been in person. Never wanted to brave the crowds.”

“Sound lovely.” He grins. 

Craig starts calling out departments, names and room numbers as people meander about the foyer.

“Alright, wardrobe. Y/N - you’re in room 528.”

You walk up to collect your cards and head back to Josh.

“Did you get yours yet?” You ask him.

“Yeah, 419. Same floor as Sam and Lennon. Danny, too, I think.” You love that Josh is an over sharer. You’re trying to scope out if you’ll be running into Jake.

“Any idea about Jake?” You ask casually. It wouldn’t be suspicious for you to want to know where he was staying, considering everyone on tour knew of your friendship. Perhaps only a little suspicious that you’d be asking Josh instead of Jake himself, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Floor 5, I’m pretty sure.” You feel your gut sink.

“Sweet.” You mumble.

You wait back in the lobby for a bit, hoping not to run into him. You find Freddie and Julie, relieved to see some familiar, friendly faces.

“Holy shit, that mini-bus driver was a manic. Being on the wrong side of the road is bad enough, but he was going so fucking fast I thought we were gonna die.” Julie gushes to you.

Freddie laughs. “God, yeah. It was terrifying. But we had a good karaoke sesh, Y/N. Lots of Taylor Swift. You should’ve joined! I thought when you were putting your bags in the trunk, you must’ve been riding with us.”

You smile apologetically. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’d planned to, but Lennon wanted to catch up, so I rode with Jake and Sam.”

“Fuckin’ Jake.” Julie grumbles. “He’s always stealing you away from us. Just ‘cause you’re a pretty girl and he’s a rockstar. It’s not fair.”

You try to keep your laugh light. “Sorry! Next time, I promise. Once we’re back home.” You squeeze her hand. “I’d love to hear you belting some Love Story, Freddie.”

He laughs. “Nah, Shake It Off is my jam. Killed it this morning. Woke Tom up from his nap. Worth it, I reckon.” You all laugh.

You look around and see the lobby has mostly cleared, so you gesture to them to follow you to the elevators.

“What floor are you guys?” 

Julie checks her card. “6. Freddie?”

“Yeah, same. I think most of the crew are on 5 or 6. You?”

You sigh. “5.” He presses the button for you.

Of course, no one you knew was on the same floor as you. Except for Jake. 

There are roughly 38 crew on the tour, including the band, plus some friends and family that have joined for this leg. About 45 rooms are booked. And out of everyone, yours and Jake’s just happen to be so close.

Yesterday, that would’ve made you happy. Would’ve been easier for you to sneak into his room tonight when you got done with your work, without the teasing comments from his brothers or your friends.

Alas, things rarely work out as you plan them.

You unpack your things onto the nightstand and bathroom counter, doing a quick check of the mini-bar to find, yet again, instant coffee. You groan.

Ah, well. Could be worse. At least there was some champagne.

You decide to take a shower after the bus ride, feeling grimy and still a bit achy from the small bed.

When you’re done and re-dressed in some sweats, you get a phone call from Pete telling you the first round of cleaning is done and ready to be collected. You know you’ve got some sequins to fix for Danny, so you slide on your slippers and a sweatshirt, and head down to the lobby to meet Pete.

As you wait, you contemplate texting Jake. After the bus, you wonder if maybe he’s waiting for you to say something. What exactly you’d say, you have no idea.

Before you can even open the message thread, Pete shuffles into the hotel, a clothing rack of black garment bags in tow. One of the bellboys tries to offer him a hand, but he waves them off.

You love Pete. He’s a grumpy old bastard, but he’s got a soft spot for you. He understands your dedication to your craft, and he often tells you that you remind him of his mother, who was a seamstress in LA in the 50’s and 60’s.

He reaches you, pulling the receipt from his pocket. “All sorted, love. I’ve already sent the invoice to Craig, but this has the inventory on it.” He puts it in your palm. “The next lot is on the truck being cleaned now, should be done by supper time.” He grumbles a little. “Some of it will need an extra iron. This cleaning van we’ve hired is rubbish. Tools don’t work so well. Can’t wait to get back home to old faithful.”

You smile warmly at him as he hands you the rack, nodding. “Thanks so much, Pete. You’re a star. Those boys would never be dressed without you.”

He laughs. “Well, a rock’n’roll band playing a show stark naked. People wouldn’t have bat an eyelid, back in my day.”

You giggle. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Well, missy, I bet you would.”

You blush. “Thanks, again. You can just load the rest of it straight back into the trunks, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“No worries, Y/N. Don’t work too hard.”

You wave him off as he heads back out to the loading dock, where the cleaning van is parked.

You check the receipt as you roll the rack into the elevator, scanning for Danny’s cape. It’s on there - thank God. That one will probably take you the most time this afternoon. The rest of your prep is mostly ironing and steaming, which you’ll do tomorrow morning before you have to load in to the venue.

As you go to press the button for your floor, a hand slides between the doors and they reopen. You glance up, and see Jake looking back at you. He steps in.

“Oh, sorry.” You mutter. The rack is taking up a lot of space.

“It’s fine. What, uh, what floor are you?” He asks.

“5.” You say quietly.

“Perfect.” He mutters.

The ride is quiet, one person gets in on floor 2 and out again at 4.

As the doors close, you decide to break the tension.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” 

He sighs. “Is there anything to talk about?”

You feel a pang of hurt at his words. “I don’t know, is there? We went from being best pals yesterday, to not talking at all today.” You sigh. “Guess I just want to know where we stand.”

The doors open and he steps out into the hallway, holding the door for you to wheel the rack out.

He runs a hand through his hair and replaces his sunglasses on his head. “You made it pretty clear, Y/N. You think we’re too co-dependant. Y’know, I thought giving you space would be the right thing to do.”

You frown. “And what about the fact that you practically blew up at me, swearing in my face?”

He sighs. “Yeah, dunno. Guess you kind of caught me off guard.”

Right. No apology.

“Okay, Jake. No worries.” You turn and walk down toward your room. As you stop to unlock your door, you turn back, and see him looking back too. He’s at his door, just on the other side of the elevator. He quickly glances away and disappears into his room.

As you step into yours and wheel the rack into the corner, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, realising the sweatshirt you’ve chosen.

It’s Jake’s.

You busy yourself with sequining, deciding it makes more sense just to pull all the old ones out and re-do them, which ends up taking you all afternoon and evening. At about 9.30pm, you realise all you’ve eaten today was a gas station sandwich Lennon picked up for you while you were asleep on the bus.

She texted you a couple of times earlier, letting you know that her, the boys and some of the crew were heading out into town for a drink, asking if you’d like to join. You’d politely declined, stating you had far too much work to do.

When you’re finally done sequining, you realise that you do need to eat some food, and you want to stretch your legs, so you wander down to the lobby to see if you can get anything from the restaurant.

You head straight to the counter, where a young waiter in all white is standing, counting receipts.

You smile at him. “Hey, the kitchen doesn’t happen to still be open, does it?”

He grins. “You’re in luck, ma’am. We’re just about to close but we had a couple of late comers tonight. What can I get you?”

You order some French fries and a side salad, and he offers to have it brought up to your room. You give him your room number and the details of the tour to charge it to, and head back upstairs with a wave. 

This is a beautiful old hotel, with a huge staircase at the centre of the lobby up to the first floor. You decide to walk it, get some much needed blood flowing into your legs, and catch the elevator from there.

Once you finally make it back to your floor, you step out and make to turn toward your room, when you hear a grunt behind you. You turn to see Jake, fumbling with his keycard, sunglasses low on his nose. He looks up and spots you.

“Y/N! Help me, please. Can’t get into my room.” He grins at you sheepishly, the hard exterior he’s been putting up all day completely gone.

You think it over for a second. You can see from here that’s he beyond drunk, and you feel sorry for him. If it was yesterday, you wouldn’t have hesitated.

You sigh and head over to where he’s just dropped his wallet and phone on the ground and is struggling to pick them back up.

Once he’s upright again, you see that he’s grinning at you, eyes following you, staring even.

You hold out your hand for the keycard and he hands it to you.

“Thanks. Couldn’t get it to work.” He slurs.

“Had a big night, hey?” You ask as you tap the key card and swing the door open.

He laughs. “Was that easy, huh? I must’ve had a big one.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, judging by the fact you’re back here and looking pretty rough before 11pm, I’d say so.”

If you didn’t know him better, you could’ve sworn he blushed at that.

He sits down on the bed and you place his key on the nightstand.

You head for the door.

“Wait, Y/N.” 

You turn, eyebrows raised.

“Can you stay for a minute? I, uh, I need some help.” He gestures to his shoes, embarrassed.

You huff. “Really, Jake? They don’t even have laces.”

He frowns. “I know that. Can’t feel my fingers at the moment. Wouldn’t be able to get the zippers. I’d just end up sleeping with them on.” He giggles.

You walk back over to the foot of the bed. He’s leaning back on his elbows, ankles extended toward you. You kneel down on the floor, unzipping his boots and placing them neatly on the floor next to the bedpost.

You remove his socks for good measure, and he hums as you place his feet back on the floor.

“Thank you.” He murmurs.

“It’s all good.” You reply. You stand up and take a step back, placing his socks on the dresser. “You gonna be alright now?”

He sits up, staring at you again. He just stays there for a few moments, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Finally, he speaks. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

It takes you a second to process what he’s said, and even with his drunken slur, the words make your stomach flip. He’s called you pretty before, in one of his many attempts to get you flustered. This feels different. More… intense, somehow. You think about how you look right now, slippers and sweatpants, still wearing his sweatshirt from earlier, glasses on from sewing, hair air dried and hanging over your shoulders. You certainly don’t feel beautiful.

“You don’t mean that. You’re drunk.”

He hums. “I do mean it. Love looking at you, y’know.”

Your head clears, and you realise you need to take this for what it is. Drunken rambling.

“Okay, Jake. You need to go to sleep. Have you eaten?”

He waves you off. “Yeah, yeah. Had dinner out.”

“Alright. Hop into bed. I’ll turn the lights off when you’re in and then I’m going back to my room.”

He scoots back up the bed, fishing the covers out from underneath him and cocooning himself. He’s still fully dressed, but you’re not about to offer to help him with that.

“You got an alarm set?” You ask him.

“Ah, yeah, think I do.” He digs his wallet and phone out from his pocket and from under the blankets to hand them to you. You place his wallet on the nightstand with his room key and plug in his phone, seeing the little alarm icon on the lock screen.

“Yeah, you do. 9am.”

You put the phone down and flick off the lamp, walking around the bed to get the other one.

You make a spur of the moment decision to grab him some water from the bathroom before you go. As you’re returning to the bedroom, you hear him from under his cocoon.

“Please don’t go.”

You sigh, placing the water next to the bed. “I have to. I’ve got work to finish.” You lie. “And you and I aren’t really on the best of terms right now. I don’t think sober you would want me here.”

He rolls over and frowns at you. “I would. Slept so badly last night without you. Got drunk, still couldn’t get comfortable.” You don’t say anything, so he tries again. “You said you slept badly too. You’ll sleep better in here, with me.”

You feel the same pang of warmth in your tummy before you scold yourself. He’s drunk. He already told you how he feels. You can’t let yourself feel anything more.

“Sorry. I gotta go.”

He grumbles again, and you switch off the lamp and make your way out.

When you get back to your room, the silver tray and cloche are sitting on the floor by your door. You pick it up and make your way inside. You sit quietly for a bit, picking at the cold fries, sipping directly from a mini-bottle of champagne.

You ready yourself for bed, putting on some music and snuggling down under the blankets.

As you close your eyes, you think about how he was right. 

You would’ve slept much better next to him.

Chapter 3