#I think this would have maybe been pinned to one's cravat

[fateinthestars]

Can we get a wishes uniform analysis please?! 🙏❤️

I'm guessing this is cos of the ramble I did about Punishments' Uniform and how Zyglavis is the only one who wears it 100% correctly here

Well Wishes is more unique to each person (or do I mean less consistent? 🤣(Seriously though just a more relaxed dress code probably)), but let's see.

With the neckwear being different for everyone the specific thing to look at here is probably more the buttons, so I needed to go take screenshots of when they're standing further back... you'll hopefully see what I mean in a moment:

If there is a 'correct' way to wear the Wishes uniform, Teorus seems to be the closest to it. The only other person who even bothers to use the chains that link the jacket buttons together is Tauxolouve but there's other issues with his. Even here Teorus isn't using all three so it's still not absolutely immaculate like Zyglavis is in Punishments.

I'm gonna include Hue here in the top as well though. Whilst he isn't using the chains his jacket is immaculately straight compared to the others in Wishes.

The neckwear in Wishes seems to be individualised (whereas in Punishments if you're wearing a tie it's gotta be a tie and it's gotta be black). White could make the most sense for Wishes in theory as I think gold would probably be over the top, but I think again Teo is the only one wearing White and it's a cravat rather than a Tie. I'm staring at Hue's sprite trying to work out whether that's some form of tie with the water-bearer symbol as a tie pin type thing or whether it's more like a necklace type thing. (Thanks to @juliettebbgamer seems likely it's a String/Cowboy/Bolo Tie - so yeah as before Teorus and Huedhaut seem the closest to showing off how the Wishes uniform is supposed to be worn)

Let's go to the Wishes' Ministers next shall we?

Now neither Leon or Karno have their jacket done up at all and let it just flow away, but Karno has his collar down properly and is also wearing a tie. (This tie and his human outfit... is red Karno's favourite colour?)

Talking of neckwear something occurred to me earlier when talking to @pwamisaurus : In Ichthys' main story at the end the King gives him a ring to subdue his powers whilst on Earth. If jewellery can be used in that manner, considering Leon's powers were causing problems even with them sealed with a mark of sin, his necklace could be doing a similar thing - meanwhile I was wondering whether Ichthys' is more to do with helping his energy levels or somesuch due to his mortality.

I've one final note on this: It looks to me as though one of the reasons Karno doesn't do his jacket up is cos he likes putting his hands in his pockets. Does he need to keep his hands occupied somehow? Like he's a very insistent hand-holder with MC even before they pretend to date his route, let alone when they actually are.

Okay onto the last two now:

I'm not gonna put Tauxolouve and Aigonorus side by side because poor Lou is trying. As I said before he's the only other one who uses any of the chains but look at the state of that vest... this is gonna be to do with Lou struggling with little detailed work isn't it? Those vest buttons are tiny, and it looks like he's only bothered to get the top one done up.

That purple cravat always feels a little too large to me too but I do really like it aside from that.

Oh my sweet Aigonorus. Of course your uniform is the most in a state. But... there's something that's been bugging me about this: You're telling me Aigo of all people could be bothered with a tie? Like, sure, he's put it barely on and really haphazardly but I would have thought Aigo would be more comfortable without one. Maybe he found a really soft tie and that's what he likes about it? 😆

The other thing that was bugging me was the colour, though @pwamisaurus is right - it's grey. Even without it being black it still feels more like one of Punishments' rather than something Wishes would wear.

[tireddovahkiin]

1, 2 & 15

Thank you for the ask Lee <3

Link to the game!

1. Gush about your f/o's sense of style/fashion!

OOOOOO it's so beautiful... I know we only saw Sephiroth in his SOLDIER/battle uniform for the entire game, but I personally like to think that he's into dark academia style/elegant/clothing with dark colors and that look plain. He's a simple man. I don't see him as a fan of bright colours, tbh, and Tsizilia HATES colours. So, good thing is, their house is black or grey themed. Tsizilias wardrobe has black and white things, while Sephiroths has a bit more colour to it.

They both like to dress for the occasions, even as simple as going outside for something. Never leaving the house without the style mhm😎

Sephiroth likes to wear plain sweaters and sweatpants, or t-shirts and pants when it's hot. He's a fan of knitted sweaters a lot. As for when going out, he'll choose coats, usually black or dark beige, simple button up white shirts, or again, sweaters, jeans/leather pants and boots. He even adds a scarf sometimes, not because he's cold, but just because he wants to look fabulous. When it's hot, shirts are unbuttoned, and the sleeves are pulled up. Sephiroth also likes do add sunglasses (Tsizilia chose them for him because she wears hers 24/7, she knows what she's doing alr)

For the special occasions, suits with a special silver lining, black cravat with a pin decoration, maybe even gloves... JSHDLUSGDIUSGIUGFYSD~

Just as I said, simple and practical, yet elegant man.

(Bonus: Sephiroth doesn't weak any pyjamas in bed. When it's winter time, he sleeps in boxers, and when it's summer, he sleeps naked. [IDFC HE SEEMS LIKE THE TYPE IF YOU THINK THAT'S NASTY I DON'T GIVE TWO SHITS- FIGHT ME-])

2. Gush about your f/o's voice!

DUDE. DUUUUUUUDE.

DON'T GET ME EVEN STARTED-

THAT MAN HAS THE HOTTEST VOICE I HAVE EVER HEARD. BOTH JAPANESE AND ENGLISH.

Sephiroths japanese lines are voiced by my FAVORITE voice actor, who also voices Minato from Naruto and Ubuyashiki Kagaya from Demon Slayer! That man REALLY knows the way to act with that calm voice of his... It gives me so much comfort and warmth...

The japanese one does sound a little more 'menacing' compared to english, but both of them are soft as COTTON CANDY... So sultry, and velvetty, dripping slowly like sticky, hot honey~ Sephiroth literally PURRS when he talks. His voice is literally hypnotizing to listen to, like of a siren. I would be EASILY swayed if he was to try and talk me in to his will. It's a real voice of a manipulator. And I fucking LOVE it.

The way it never raises, that guy NEVER yells. EVER. He's as calm as the sea at night. Sephiroth is the most suave of the suave-st ever. Even when he's angry, he's CALMLY angry. And it's even more unsettling than the yelling, in my opinion. You don't know what to expect.

Oh, and when he whispers lowly into Clouds ear every time he decides to mess with him, LORD... I BECOME SO JEALOUS- LIKE I WANT SEPHIROTH TO TEASE ME, PLEASE- TELL ME I'VE BEEN A BARD GIRL, OR A GOOD ONE, ANYTHING--

I can only imagine the way he says stuff when we- when whne um uhm whnw- make out or something-🥴

MY FAVORITE THING ABOUT ALL OF IT? His possessiveness. That man is the most pssessive man I have ever seen. Like it's borderline crazy, almost close to yandere-ish. AND I'M ALL HERE FOR THAT FOOD- Like YES I wan't that man to whisper into my ear that I'm HIS, and his only, as he makes me watch slash people with Masamune before my eyes, YES, I want to hear him just how crazy and insane I drive him, yes I wan't him to always keep me close to him and never let go as he rants about how we're meant to be, and blessed by the fates, YES YES YES YESYEYSYESYEYSYEYS-

I wan't him to ramble about his 'planet conquering' goals to oblivion, I'll listen... Half of it. Otherwise, I get distracted by his beautiful voice... I also make him read a lot to me. Best ASMR for fucking FREE- I'm a lucky gal😋

Favorite lines?

"I'll never be a memory." (YES TELL THEM BABY FUCK EM UP WOOOOOOO-)

"Careful now. That which lies ahead... Does not yet exist." (Ahhhh... His philosphy is so fascinating to decode... What he means about 95% of the time he talks... Like he's such a mystery of a man, I absolutely adore it...)

"You're practically panting... Such a puppy." (WOOF WOOF BARK BARK BARK ARF GRRRRRR ARF ARF BARK WOOF WOOF-)

3. Gush about your F/O’s love languages!

EEEEEEEEEEEEEE HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOO-

First, and primary one: Acts of service

Sephiroth is the embodiment of 'Actions speak louder than words'. That is his primary love language, when he first even started dating Tsizilia (me).

As I said once before, Sephiroth is definitely touch starved, but greatly touch repulsed at first. He only ever experienced a forceful touch, touches he had to endure when countless of scinetists exprimented on him, treated him, monitored him. They were always rough, without emotions, treating him like an object, another obstacle, a lab rat, and not a human being. So, being afraid of a loving touch is a 'normal' reaction. He's afraid he might be used again, and he wants to avoid it at all costs. But Sephiroth doesn't realise it won't hurt him, that he is loved, and that that touch isn't fake, it is indeed quite real, and full of love and care for him.

So, he shows it through small acts like, preparing food, helping in the house, remembering something Tsizilia mentioned, doing the chores, bying her gifts, and always being there to listen to her, to help her, to enjoy time with her. He's willing to literally sacrifice himself in an instant if she asks. Anything for her. Because Tsizilia has ALWAYS been by his side, and now he wants to return the favor.

Physical Touch

After experiencing a loving, harmless touch for the first time by Tsizilia, and out of the constant fear of ending alone again, of being left on his own, of being pushed away like always before, he holds close like his life depends on it.

Sephiroth becomes hungry for touch: possessive, greedy, like a dragon to its treasure. And Tsizilia understands that, hell, she even loves it herself (Similar shit happened to her, she's a chaser, a people pleaser, and she always thought her touch meant nothing to anyone ever every time she showed affection, because her heart, when she was young, was sensitive and very loving, but due to life treating her that way, she closed off.) In the beginning of the relationship, Tsizilia was always initiating contact, but seeing him reject it every time, she got scared, and eventually gave up... Until Sephiroth reprocicated for the first time. (AND THERE WERE TEARS LET ME TELL YA-)

Sephiroths touch is firm, but gentle. Even though Tsizilia keeps telling him she isn't made of glass, Sephiroth insists he handles her with care, like she was made of porcelain. But the firm grip she has on her is always there, indicating she AIN'T GOING ANYWHERE, even in sleep- and the fact that it's constant, almost becoming clingy... (HELL YEAH YOU GET ME BABE IM HELLA CLINGY TOO) Sephiroth uses any given moment he has to hold her close. To feel her. To keep reminding himself that this isn't a dream, that it's real. Reading a book? Cooking? Sleeping? Watching TV? Even showering together? That man is acting like a sloth.

But the situation slightly changes when in public. Sephiroth isn't a fan of PDA at all (dw me too), but at least hand holding is a must, or an arm over her shoulders. He STILL wants to make sure Tsizilia is close. Rarely, she kissesher cheek, knuckles, forehead, temple, and hug her. But the definite rarest is direct kisses. He initiates it only when he's like DESPARATE. But, sneaky glances, secret touches under the table on hand brushing? YES. YOU BET YOUR FUCKING ASS ON IT, YES.

There's also gift giving!

I just know bro spoils like every day is a celebration day istfg /j

No, but really. Sephiroth is VERY perceptive as a person, and I just KNOW he'll look out and pinpoint on every longing look Tsizilia directs at a jewelry piece she sees on TV, or a game she wants to buy and play, or when some of her favorite bathing salt runs out, or a flower she saw on the way home. Oh, you BET he saw/heard her. And next time you know, he's bringing a big ass boquett of her favorite flowers, the jewelry lying on the table, or a video game bought and installed on her laptop, you NAME it.

AND- AND THE MAN HAS AUDACITY TO ACT DENSE- like what are you talking about, I didn't hear anything, I just thought of you and brought it... SHUT THE FUCK UP AND KISS ME RIGHT ABOUT NOW—

Every once and then, he will even buy something he thinks will fit her pefectly, like a dress, accessory, or a piece of... l1nger1e hehe~😏 That man NEVER fails. He knows what's he doing, alright. Fashion sense is quite literally like his normal sense. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM- HE AIN'T BLESSED WITH THAT BEAUTY FOR NOTHING. And beside that, he'll even try creative gifts, handmade ones. But, having a meticulous perfectionist ass can be quite tiring😔and he often rage quits. (Again, I can relate SO much.)

[frogteethblogteeth]

Memento Mori stock pin, enameled gold and pearl, possibly early 19th century

[vizowrites]

More realistic soulmate AU for blitzstrike: imps have a special mark on there body and there soulmate will have the same mark aswell, blitz has a mark but hasn't found his soulmate AU until the sexy wall pin striker does. He sees a weird mark just like his on his neck, barely showing..

Ohohohoh I love the idea of this and for slightly devious reasons. If I may:

I feel like everyone--myself included for about 5 seconds until my brain kicked in and was like Wait--makes the mistake of thinking that the heart shape mark on Blitz's forehead is his soulmate mark.

FALSE!! :D

Blitz's mark is actually around the spot where the top of his chest meets the base of his neck, usually doubly covered up by his high collar and that little skill bow/pin/cravat thing. It's the one marked instance where he doesn't freely advertise--in fact, when people ask him "Is that your soulmate mark??" and point to the center of his forehead, he immediately and without hesitation answers: "YEPPERS! IT SURE iS!!" :D

Is he lying?

The answer is, of course: Yes and No.

Yes he IS technically lying because his natural born birthmark is in the spot that he keeps hidden from view beneath that little skull pin, and it's honestly of a more typical size for a soulmate mark than the much larger heart shape that he has on his forehead. However, what he ISN'T lying quite as much about, is the fact that he does see the forehead mark as a soulmate mark--just not THE soulmate mark.

It's a mark that he shares with his twin sister, Barbie Wire.

You see, when they were growing up, they both were obsessed with finding their soulmates. They would spend hours talking about who they thought their soulmates would be, what they would look like, what they would be like, and all the while psyching the other one up to go out there and find them. But as they got older, and life did as life often does--hits you hard and fast--they started feeling more and more discouraged about the probability of actually finding The One for them. It started getting really bad for Blitz, who being as in love with the idea of having someone who loves him as he is, really started taking it hard when time after time his relationships sparked and fell apart.

So one night, which they didn't know it at the time was one of the last nights they would spend together in a long time, while they were sitting up on the suspended hoop rings underneath their circus tent, Barbie casually remarked:

"You know.....maybe this whole idea of romantic soulmates is overrated anyway." Her gaze flicked sideways to her twin, offering him the slightest hint of a playful smile, only for it to grow when she noticed him looking back at her curiously in return. "I mean, who really needs someone to shove fingers in your holes for you? We have toys for that now that can do it better anyway."

She tilted her head slightly in the easy, carefree way of hers that always had the tension loosening a bit in Blitz's shoulders--knowing that if his sister was feeling this at ease with the world, there had to be something right happening in it.

"So fuck finding the one to smash faces with for the rest of forever," she said, her smile finally curving into a full grin as she reached out and lightly booped Blitz on the center of his forehead. "I know you better than any fucker down here in Hell ever will anyway, AND I've known you for a hell of a lot longer than they're ever going to be able to. And, I mean.....I love you or whatever. I'm always going to be there for you. We can be each other's soulmates."

It honestly wasn't what Blitz had been expecting, and he would've been lying if he said that it completely filled the void in him that still wanted so badly to find the person who had a mark that matched the one on the base of his neck.....but maybe Barbie was right and that romance was overrated anyway. He still had someone who knew him like the back of her hand, someone who accepted him and understood him on a level that not a single other being in Hell did.

Maybe that, in and of itself, could be it's own kind of soulmate.

".....Alright," he said, finally offering a softer and more sincere smile--one that made her entire face light up, which only made him smile more. "But ONLY if you promise to let me loudly announce that we're soulmates everywhere we go just to make people freak the fuck out."

"How about we do one better--" Barbie grinned, offering her hand to Blitz as she gripped at the silver hoop in a clear sign that she was preparing to dismount. "Let's go get tattoos of what WE want our soulmate marks to be.  Right in the middle of our faces!"

~*~

Blitz doesn't really try to think back on memories like that too much, but he kind of can't help it after seeing what he saw on Striker's neck when he pinned him to the wall. Now he just feels frozen there, staring, as the memories come flooding back--ironically drying out his throat so much that he finds it hard to swallow. He manages after a moment, but he can tell that it gave something away as Striker's expression changes from confident seduction to something more akin to......worry? No, that's too strong of a word--maybe confusion?

Blitz doesn't fucking know, reading people's faces has never been his strong suit.

"You alright there, Blitz?" Striker's voice hasn't quite lost it's edge, but it's definitely softened from what it was before. Those glowing eyes flick across his face, searching for something that he can't quite seem to find.

This is good.  Striker clearly doesn’t know what’s going on so Blitz can totally still make this work in his favor.

“What’s that mark on your neck?” he blurts out, followed very closely by an explosive, “Fuck”

Striker blinks once, his surprise strong enough that it causes him to straighten a little, taking him back a touch further from Blitz’s personal space than where he’d been before, but still very much keeping Blitz pinned up against that wall.  He doesn’t answer the question at first, his expression taking a turn for the unreadable, but the second that Blitz goes to open his mouth to try and bullshit his way out of this--Striker finally speaks: 

“You never seen a soulmate mark before?”  He asks the question with the faintest drawl of skepticism, covering up something much deeper in his voice that’s harder to name.  “Then again, I suppose that would make some sense in your case seein’ as how yours is in the middle of your forehead.”  

Those green-gold eyes flicked up once, a split second glance up above his eyes, before his gaze once more lowered to meet Blitz’s directly.

“I’ve seen mine before,” Blitz said more honestly than he’d meant to, his back pressing slightly further against the wall as he braced himself for whatever stupid thing was going to fly out of his mouth next.  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” 

Striker’s eyebrow quirked a fraction at that, the skepticism showing more plainly on his face as he once again glanced up at the mark on Blitz’s forehead before looking back down, before the slightest twitch of a smile crossed his lips.  He shook his head slightly, as if he didn’t know why he was humoring this, before reaching up to tug his bandana down enough to expose the mark on his neck to the other imp.

The sight of it made Blitz’s heart stop.  

“I feel like this isn’t much of a fair trade,” Striker was saying, mistaking the wide-eyed look that spread across Blitz’s face.  “But I guess you did technically show me yours first so.....Blitz..?”  

It didn’t take him very long to realize his mistake when he watched as Blitz’s expression turned from shock into something like fear.  

For a split [stupid] second, Striker turned his head back towards the window--half expecting to see a very pissed Goetian Prince perched there and ready to tear his eyes out with his talons for trying to assasinate him.  Instead, when he found nothing there but the curtains gently shifting in the breeze, he turned back to look at Blitz--and felt himself tense when he saw that the fear was still there.

“What?  What’s wrong?” 

The answer was there on the tip of his tongue, locked and loaded for him to blurt out as recklessly as everything else he’d been saying.  But--as was often the case when the words were written too close to his heart--Blitz suddenly was incapable of letting them fly.  So instead he did the only thing he’d ever learned to do in times like this: 

He bolted out the open door. :)

[kindofwriter]

Hello Skyjacks fandom, may I please introduce you to my favourite thing to do: turn RPG scenes I love into TV scripts. I’ve never done a scene that doesn’t have fluid dialogue before, so this is more of an edit, but aah! Flashbacks, my beloved! From ep 15.

Transcript under the cut:

INT. TAVERN. DAY.

TRAVIS' footsteps echo as he picks his way around upturned tables and towards the bar. JONNIT and GABLE remain by the door.

TRAVIS pauses and lifts up an overturned tankard. He tilts it, and a few dregs drip to the floor.

TRAVIS: Well, we might be able to at least scavenge something.

TRAVIS: Well, we might be able to at least scavenge something.

GABLE: I think our best bet is probably to find the warehouse. Get as many supplies as we can to get us to the next port, then try and trade there.

TRAVIS has reached the bar at this point. He hops over it, then begins inspecting bottles.

TRAVIS: Guess I'll start here.

GABLE makes a move towards the bar. JONNIT stumbles after them.

GABLE: Trav- Hey! This isn't the warehouse!

TRAVIS picks up a tall glass bottle, flips it in the air and catches it again, then begins to pour it into a whiskey-sized glass he found behind the bar. He is beginning to make a Maelstrom.

TRAVIS: Can I get you anything?

GABLE stops just before the bar, JONNIT beside them. They pause for a second, look to JONNIT, then sit.

GABLE: You know what? What the hell. Uh, what do they have back there?

JONNIT tentatively sits beside GABLE.

TRAVIS: Well, uh, do you have a signature drink?

GABLE: No.

A smirk, softer than usual, spreads across TRAVIS' face.

TRAVIS: Would you like one?

GABLE: Uuh...

His own drink poured, TRAVIS begins to mix something for GABLE.

TRAVIS: Jonnit, would you like something?

JONNIT: Uuh, I'll take a pickle?

With his back to his companions, TRAVIS gives another small smile. He turns.

TRAVIS (with a jovial eye-roll): Well, there's the jar.

TRAVIS slides a large jar of pickles down the bar at JONNIT. JONNIT opens it, grabs a pickle, then fidgets in his seat for a moment.

JONNIT: Hey Gable? This is kinda maybe something for a little later, but-

TRAVIS pours something into GABLE's glass that makes the clear liquid begin to smoke. He grabs a shot glass and begins pouring something into it.

JONNIT; I was wondering, when we get back in the air, this thing-

JONNIT gestures to his forehead.

JONNIT: Has been on my mind a lot, and, uh, I just wanted to know: would you maybe be interested in  helping me figure out what it is, how to use it? I feel like it's, it's special. And I wanna be able to call on it when I want, but I don't know how. And it's sometimes a little scary.

TRAVIS sets the shot glass in front of GABLE - it's filled with blood red liquid - then grabs another bottle.

GABLE: Jonnit, from what I've seen you're capable of some incredible things. Things that I know are frightening to you, and I know you have a desire to control. But those things are quite unique to you. As far as I know, perhaps it's divine magic, but it's nothing I've ever encountered. When it comes to magic  the most powerful thing I've found you can do is to allow yourself to do it.

JONNIT: To just... let it happen?

TRAVIS places the smoking glass before GABLE and picks up his own drink. JONNIT and GABLE pause their conversation to look at him.

TRAVIS: To letting ourselves be ourselves from time to time. Even if it is a little painful.

GABLE: Take flight.

JONNIT: Take flight.

TRAVIS: Take flight.

JONNIT crunches down on his pickle. GABLE takes a sip. TRAVIS watches them over the rim of his own glass.

GABLE: This is delicious! It's not often we get to.. have fun?

As TRAVIS downs his drink, GABLE turns back to JONNIT.

GABLE: Just, don't be afraid of it, is what I mean.

JONNIT: I feel like that just ends up with me waiting around for it to happen, and it happens when it wants to, and I feel like I want it to happen when I want it to.

GABLE: You feel that it controls you?

TRAVIS sets his now empty glass down on the bar. He pokes about a little, finds some peanuts and chucks a couple into his mouth.

JONNIT: Yeah. I wanna be in control.

GABLE: That's wise. I'm not sure how much I can help-

JONNIT's shoulders droop, and he tries really hard not to let the disappointment show on his face. To hide it, he takes a bite of the pickle.

GABLE: But I can show you how I do my thing.

JONNIT: Yeah, uh, that'd be great. Thanks, Gable.

TRAVIS wanders out from behind the bar, winding around tables, clearly looking to see if anyone has dropped anything. He reaches a corner, tucked away behind a support beam, where there is a small, square table for playing Illimat. 

TRAVIS runs his fingers over the grain and a slightly glazed look overtakes his face. He begins to take a seat and-

CUT TO:

INT. BAR. DUSK.

The exact same place, only now it's bustling. A shanty plays in the background. The scene is packed with characters. Out the window we can see, across a fog-less mountain top, the sun is preparing to set. 

TRAVIS is sitting in the exact same seat we just saw him drop into, but he looks different. Same coat, but it's newer, better maintained. There's a softness to his face and a lightness to his eyes that we haven't seen before. He looks younger, though of course he isn't.

Across from TRAVIS is sat a burly man with curls pulled back into a ponytail. The two have almost finished playing a game of Illimat.

TRAVIS makes a move, and the crowd that have gathered around them cheer - it looks like he's going to win. The sly look TRAVIS gives his competitor confirms this.

With a flick of his wrist, the COMPETITOR plays his card, and the crowd goes wild. He crosses his arms and leans back, smirking at TRAVIS.

For a moment TRAVIS looks confused, then he begins to reach across the table.

TRAVIS: You cheated!

COMPETITOR (rumbling: )Didn't take you for a sore loser.

TRAVIS: That was the only card you could have possibly played to win. The odds are impossible.

COMPETITOR: Guess fate was just on my side.

That gets TRAVIS' hackles up.

TRAVIS: No, that card was already in the harvest pile, I saw it!

As TRAVIS reaches for the deck a knife is thrown down, pinning the cards to the table.

COMPETITOR: Oi!

The COMPETITOR rises, looming over TRAVIS, who also quickly jumps to his feet.

COMPETITOR: That's not the way we play here.

The energy in the crowd has changed now. People are tense, anticipating a fight.

TRAVIS tries to respond to the man, but instead he bares his teeth, a short, sharp growl emitting from his throat. We see panic flare in TRAVIS' eyes as he notices the sun through the window behind the man's head: it's setting.

The COMPETITOR took this to be a sign of aggression and lunges for TRAVIS. TRAVIS winces, but before any damage can be done two other patrons have grabbed hold of the man. They begin to drag him from the table, mumbling that he's drunk and should head home, not worth it over a visitor etc.

The COMPETITOR reaches to grab something from the table - the money, TRAVIS assumes, and also starts reaching for it. However all he does is scoop a small snuff box up and shove it into his pocket.

People begin to move in towards TRAVIS, asking if he's alright, where he's staying, congratulating him on his skill. TRAVIS ignores them, covering his mouth with one hand as we hear the loud and painful snapping and twisting of his jaw.

With his other hand he scoops up what should have been the winnings and slinks out the door.

CUT TO:

EXT. TAVERN. DUSK.

Now lifting his cravat to cover his mouth, TRAVIS exits the tavern and starts to turn, aiming to slink down an alleyway. Before he does, however, his eyes are drawn to a commotion just past the warehouse. The COMPETITOR is still being guided away, into a bunk house down the street.

CUT TO:

EXT. TAVERN. DAY.

TRAVIS is stood outside the door in the exact same position, looking to the bunk house. Now, however, the tavern is dark and cold.He starts to walk towards the bunk house.

GABLE and JONNIT emerge, clearly confused.

GABLE (hissed): Travis?

JONNIT (whispered): Travis?

We pan out in order to see TRAVIS walking towards the bunk house and GABLE and JONNIT at the door simultaneously.

GABLE (slightly louder): Travis?

JONNIT (normal volume): Travis?

GABLE (yelling slightly); Travis!

JONNIT + GABLE: Travis!

TRAVIS continues to ignore them, having almost reached the door to the bunk house now.

GABLE shrugs to JONNIT.

GABLE: Well, I guess we don't need to go to the same place. Do you wanna go to the warehouse?

JONNIT nods and the pair set off.

CUT TO:

INT. BUNK HOUSE. DAY.

TRAVIS is just pushing open the door to the reception area. There are chairs and tables littered about - untidy, but not in disarray as the tavern had been. It's deadly silent.

Faint light filters in through the windows, but with the thick fog it does little to illuminate the room. TRAVIS reaches up and lights an oil lamp that hangs beside his head. It looks as if he lights it with his finger, but as he reaches to take the oil lamp down we see him palm a lighter.

Taking the lamp with him, TRAVIS makes his way down a corridor at the back of the room, lined on either side with doors. He pushes the first one he comes to, and it opens onto a set of bunks. The beds are unmade and there are a few belongings scattered about, but nothing that suggests a struggle.

We see TRAVIS continue down the corridor, pushing a few more doors, until suddenly he stops.

On the floor of this room, slightly tucked beneath a bunk, is a brass Illimat box, the one the COMPETITOR had laid on the table. The lid has been lost or removed.

TRAVIS crouches and reaches inside, lifting out a small snuff box. He closes his eyes, letting out a soft, slow breath. As he stands he pockets the snuff box, turning on his heel, only to stop in his tracks again. 

We pan round until we can see the back of the door. Etched into it, in thin, jagged letters, is the words 'IT IS TIME!'

TRAVIS pushes the door open and hurries out of the room, back towards the entrance.

[actress4him]

In Irons 2 - The Dark Storm

(Prompt #6 for Summer of Whump)

Let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist!

Taglist: @a-series-of-whumpy-events , @darthsutrich

Previous | Next

Warnings: lady whumpee with male whumpers, brief (unrealized) fear of noncon, capture, mild blood, forced labor

.

.

The smell of the ocean and the sun on her face is exactly like she had always imagined it. Adelaide leans onto the rail of the deck of The Golden Rose and breathes it all in, a smile playing on her lips.

She’d purchased passage on the ship using part of her own dowry. It seemed appropriate. The dowry came with her, after all, so why not leave with her? She didn’t take all of it, of course. Some of it had already been spent, and some she left as consolation for Charles.

Now they’re three days into a week long journey that will take her down the coast to a new port, hopefully far enough away that no one she knows will ever find her. She’ll start her life over there. It’s an intimidating thought, living as a single woman with no parents, but it will be far better than married life had been. It has to be.

Suddenly the ship bursts into a flurry of sound and activity. Adelaide whirls around, watching as the captain barks out orders and rushes to take the wheel for himself. Sailors practically fly around the ship, untying ropes and letting out sails and scurrying up and down stairs.

She looks out to sea again, searching the water for any sign of what’s happening. There’s nothing but choppy, deep blue as far as the eye can see.

The captain shouts another order and Adelaide darts across the deck, unable to fully appreciate her newfound range of motion past the pounding of her heart in her chest. Practically slamming into the rail, she grips it with both hands until her knuckles turn white, staring back behind them.

There’s a ship there. A large ship, easily twice the size of The Golden Rose, with a hull and sails that haven’t seen nearly as much care and attention. A black flag flies from the mast, its crest hard to make out in the harsh wind.

And it’s gaining on them, fast.

“Captain! What is that ship?” She barely remembers to drop her voice into a deeper register. But no one is paying her any mind, anyway, and her question goes unanswered.

A horrible scraping sound fills the air, and Adelaide is nearly knocked off her feet by the jolt that shakes the deck. Did they just...run into us? The expressions on the faces of the sailors are growing more frantic, sending her heart racing even faster.

Then the ship is pulling up beside them, huge and looming above her head, still bumping up against the side as it goes, and she stumbles backwards away from the railing. Just in time, too, because people are beginning to swing down onto The Rose’s deck, and they have weapons.

Adelaide scrambles further away until her back hits the railing on the other side, eyes wide as she stares at first the rough-looking men landing one by one, then the flag whose crest she can finally see.

It’s a skull over crossed swords.

Pirates.

They spread out quickly, some disappearing below deck to do who knows what while others immediately set upon the sailors. The men are strong, but they’re not fighters, not like the pirates. Thankfully there’s no bloodshed, but it’s not long before each sailor is either knocked down or pinned.

And another pirate is headed straight for her.

Part of her wants to cower, but she steels herself, clenches her fists, and stares him down. No fear. She can’t show fear. Fear is to these men like blood to a shark.

A hand hooks into her cravat and yanks her forward, and she tries her best not to flinch. He’s dirty, beard unkempt, missing teeth as he sneers at her. Everything she would expect a pirate to be.

“You look young and fit enough.” He looks her up and down as if to confirm it, and her skin crawls. For a moment she forgets she’s not a girl, and suddenly it’s Charles hovering over her again, and her heart lodges somewhere in her throat.

“‘Ey Marshall! You wanna keep this one? He looks like a good enough worker.”

He. Worker. Her throat feels slightly less constricted at the realization, but she still doesn’t want to be kept. Her eyes dart up to the dark-haired pirate that hangs over the rail of the upper deck.

“Sure. Take him back.”

Suddenly she’s being dragged by the neck across the ship, toward the pirate ship. “No, no, I don’t -” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, or why she thinks it might do any good, but there’s no chance to complete the thought before the man wraps a strong arm around her waist and they’re being ripped upward, feet leaving the deck without warning. A yelp escapes her involuntarily, and it’s far from masculine. The pirate only guffaws at her.

Once they’ve safely landed on the second ship and the rope they were hanging from is put away, she’s mostly ignored for the next several minutes. She even wonders if she could make an escape, but there are so many men everywhere. Crates are being tossed from hand to hand, barrels rolled up planks from one ship to the other. The Golden Rose is being swiftly stripped of all the goods that she was carrying.

Three more men are brought onboard, members of The Rose’s crew. It seems in addition to taking her cargo, they plan to leave the ship with hardly enough men to sail it. The only other passengers besides Adelaide are an older man and his wife, and thankfully, they seem to have been left alone.

As the last of the crates is loaded on and the pirates unmoor from the cargo ship, moving much too quickly away from safety and freedom, Adelaide and the three sailors are lined up side by side. A man with a black and grey beard who - based on the relative finery of his burgundy coat - must be the captain approaches, looking them over one by one.

“Welcome aboard The Dark Storm,” he sneers. “The name’s Payne, but you lot can call me Captain.”

One of the sailors, a young man who can’t be much older than Adelaide, raises his voice. “What makes you think that we’ll work for the likes of you?”

In a flash, the gold-tipped cane in Captain Payne’s hand flies up and slams into the side of the sailor’s head. Adelaide gasps, hand flying to her mouth. The sailor is sent sprawling onto the deck, a bright red stream of blood trickling down onto its surface.

“Anyone else have any...objections?” The Captain smiles, gold teeth flashing in the sun. “No? Good.” Turning, he beckons with the cane to the same dark-haired man that she had seen earlier. “Marshall, get this man a bucket so that he can clean up his mess before it stains the wood.”

Moving on to the other two men, he asks their names and gives them an approving grunt, before finally coming to her. “And what is this?”

It isn’t the same way that he asked for names before, but she answers, anyway, too frightened not to. “Gray, sir. John Gray.”

His upper lip curls. “And whose idea was it to bring Mr. Gray onto my ship?”

Marshall steps up beside him. “I approved him, Captain. He probably doesn’t know a weaver’s knot from a bowline, but he can swab decks. And maybe if he does that for long enough, he’ll actually build enough muscles to be able to pull a line.”

The Captain stares her down for what seems like an eternity more. She isn’t sure whether she wants his approval or not, but has a feeling that failing to gain it will mean something much worse than swabbing decks.

Finally he cocks his head slightly to one side, face relaxing. “Fine, then. You heard the man. Our defiant friend here seems to be done with his bucket, so get busy.”

It isn’t until he walks away that she realizes she was barely breathing. She sucks in a shaky breath now, trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone around her as she collects the bucket and brush and finds an unoccupied corner to start in.

There’s a lot to think about while she scrubs. Her life has been turned upside down twice within a week, first by her own doing, and now by pirates. This isn’t just a bad dream. This isn’t something that’s going to last for a few more days until she arrives at the new life she’s been looking forward to. Unless she can somehow escape whenever they make port, she’s stuck here. As a...well, basically a slave. Certainly not the way she was hoping to start things over.

She can’t let them find out her secret.

If they find out that she’s actually a woman, there’s no telling how they will react. Badly. That’s all she knows for sure.

So she keeps to herself. Doesn’t speak to anyone unless required, tries to stay unnoticed as much as possible. Scrubs the deck. Hauls crates around. Occasionally helps pull a line. Her hands are constantly shriveled, the ends of her sleeves always wet, and there are permanent bruises on her knees. Blisters quickly form on her palms, then burst, then form all over again until they’ve turned into her first ever callouses.

But she keeps scrubbing, and she watches.

For the first week or two, she was determined not to be one of them. She may be working on a pirate ship, but she’s not a pirate. Eventually, though, she started thinking harder about what it might take to survive this whole ordeal, not just until the next port, but possibly for a very long time.

What if the Captain decides she’s not useful enough? What if he decides to get rid of her while they’re out in the middle of the open sea?

So she watches. She shadows Marshall, the first mate, whenever she can, and tries to learn knots and terms and the way things work. She doesn’t push to be included in the process, not yet, not until she’s certain that she’ll make a good impression.

Like it or not, Mr. John Gray is going to be a pirate.

[canyousonicme]

Ten Things You Never Knew About 'Doctor Who' and 'A Discovery Of Witches' Star, Alex Kingston

By Nick Levine | March 9, 2021

10 'Things' You Never Knew About 'Doctor Who' and 'A Discovery of Witches' Star Alex Kingston

You probably know Alex Kingston as River Song in Doctor Who, or Sarah Bishop in A Discovery of Witches, or Dr. Elizabeth Corday in ER, or Dinah Lance in Arrow, or Moll Flanders in The Fortunes and Misfortunes of Moll Flanders... We could go on. She's had a lot of great roles over the years. But as she celebrates her 58th birthday Thursday (March 11), let's take some time to get to know this fantastic actress a little better.

1. She's proud of her German heritage.

Kingston was born and brought up in the town of Epsom, near London, to Anthony Kingston, an English butcher, and his German wife, Margarethe Renneisen. Her maternal uncle, Walter Renneisen, is a prominent German actor who founded his own touring theater company.

2. She's super-humble about her prolific career.

“I don’t know if it is a good thing or not," Kingston told The Times in 2019, "but I have never been particularly pushy. I know there are actors, male and female, who really are on the front foot when it comes to their careers and networking. I just can’t do that. I find it kind of embarrassing."

She added candidly: "There is a part of me that has had to reconcile to the fact that maybe my career didn’t go where it might have, but, at the same time, I’ve done fine. I’ve managed to pay the bills and support everybody, so that’s not bad. I still have a life. I clean the house, I walk the dog — I think that’s really important. I want to be a regular person, and sometimes that means you don’t get the jobs.”

3. During a night out in Atlanta, Georgia, she happened upon a Doctor Who-themed burlesque show.

“The dancer started as William Hartnell," Kingston told The i. "She had his black tuxedo coat and a cravat. She took that off and underneath that she was Tom Baker in a big scarf. Then she took that off to reveal she had Peter Davison’s cricket whites on underneath. Then she took that off, and she was David Tennant in his little pin-stripey jacket."

Kingston continued: “She must have been boiling. Under that, she was Matt Smith in a bow tie and a fez. ‎Next she took off Matt, and she was the Tardis. She had Tardis blue sequinned pasties over her nipples and a tiny sequinned G string in Tardis blue. It was so unexpected and hilarious. It illustrates an obsessive love with that world."

Frankly, it sounds like quite an incredible performance – if only there was video footage!

4. She once caused her Doctor Who co-star Matt Smith a moment of, um, rather intimate discomfort.

“One of the most memorable parts of filming," she told London's Evening Standard last year, "was when I flew through the universe, got caught in the Tardis and by mistake kneed Matt Smith, who was playing the Doctor at the time, in the nuts. There were a few tears of laughter from me and cries of pain from him.”

5. She auditioned for Felicity Huffman's role in "Desperate Housewives".

According to Today, she told London's Evening Standard in 2006: "I didn't get the part, and I know why: irrespective of acting ability, I'm just way too big."

6. She had 13 rounds of IVF before becoming pregnant with her daughter, Salome, who is now 19 years old.

"It was very tough. You are so desperate, you don’t really understand what the long-term side effects can be," she told the Mail on Sunday in 2014. "That’s what they don’t tell you in the medical profession. I put on weight with all the IVF – it’s insidious because it happens so slowly and then it’s almost impossible to get rid of it. I was also perimenopausal very early; I have no proof, but I feel that it was linked to the IVF and the different hormones I was taking. There are things that I think aren’t fully explained to women when they are going through all that.

7. As a baby, Salome played Ella Greene, the daughter of Kingston's character Elizabeth and Anthony Edwards' Mark Greene on ER.

8. She wants to cause trouble for 007...a lot of it.

“I would love to be a villain in a James Bond movie, the real villain, the main one," she told the Sunday Post earlier this month. "Because they’ve never had a female villain. And I want to be a villain who does not find James Bond sexy at all. And doesn’t succumb to his charms, I want to be his real nemesis.”

9. When her ER contract wasn't renewed in 2004, Kingston – who was 41 at the time – suggested ageism may have been partly to blame.

"I suddenly felt very old surrounded by these young twentysomethings. Does it mean that I'm the geriatric that's being pushed out because she's too old?" Kingston said in an interview with the Radio Times, according to The Guardian.

Saying that the show "definitely seems to be taking a different tone," Kingston added: "I understand it needs to keep reinventing itself in order to keep going, and apparently I, according to the producers, the writers, am part of the old fogeys who are no longer interesting. In that respect it's a shame."

10. She's written her own River Song novel.

Yes, really! It's called The Ruby's Curse, features River Song and her alter ego Melody Malone, and publishes May 21. Kingston said in a press release: "Having absolutely no idea of the journey I would be taking with River Song when I first uttered those words, ‘Hello Sweetie,’ I cannot begin to express how excited I am to be able to continue not only River, but Melody’s adventures on the written page. A sassy private detective and a time traveling archaeologist joining forces to solve a mystery? What’s not to love!?" [x]

[prairiesongserial]

16.1

The lights on the burlesque stage went out just as Friday’s brassiere fell open - the timing of which she and Abernathy had been practicing for days. The crowd was so reactive that Friday felt the whistles and applause reverberating in the floorboards as she hustled off the stage. It was a louder reception than she was used to. She’d had fans at the Ace, but unlike the burlesque tent of the Madsen and Graves Circus, the Ace was just as much about drinking and catching up with friends over cards as it was about the girls.

Behind the curtain, in the tiny staging area, Beatrix was getting ready for her fan dance - she always did the finale, and it was always the same act. Friday had picked up the importance of crowd control since she first started hanging around the burlesque tent. With just cloth tent-flaps between yourself and a crowd that had been waiting a year for the circus to come through town, it was important they understood when the show was over.

A little girl popped through the curtain behind Friday while Friday was still trying to fix her brassiere back in place.

“Hey, baby,” Friday said, shooting her a smile. Jaelle, All-Fair’s kid, had been working the crowd. It was odd - usually Johannes did the burlesque tent himself, or at least got one of the men to do it. They blended in better. On the other hand, looking at the dozens of rings jammed on Jaelle’s fingers and the watches crawling up her arms, maybe the kid was the right choice.

“Hello, Miss Friday,” Jaelle said. She deposited her goods in the tin lock-box that Abernathy would come collect at the end of the night, turning the key with an air of great importance. “Can’t stay and chat - Johannes has me working every tent in the circus.” She heaved a sigh. “Bury me standing - I’ve been on my knees all my life.”

Friday had no idea what Jaelle was talking about, but the kid took off before she could ask. The circus would be winding down, now that the burlesque tent was putting on its last show. Friday threw slacks and a shirt on over her sequined underwear, still soaked in sweat from performing. She needed an ice cream cone before the stall packed up for the night.

When Friday left the tent, she was abruptly reminded that this was no ordinary show.

Her boots tread on grass, but there was no sky here. Despite the fact that it should have been past ten at night, dozens of lights high up on a domed ceiling gave the impression of daylight. Johannes’s amplified voice reached her from the main tent as he announced the last attraction. All at once, the lights on the ceiling shifted from yellow to orange to red, performing dusk in a matter of seconds. If not for that, the effect would have been eerily realistic.

Friday got a strawberry cone from Di and decided to wander over to the main tent. Might as well.

The last act in the main tent was fire-hooping, which was worth watching. The twin clowns had shed the baggy overalls from their tumbling routine and now wore form-fitting red and blue harlequin outfits as the flaming hula hoops arced through the air in perfect sync. Not only were the fire-hoopers impressive, but when the flames were extinguished at the end of the show, it made for a powerful symbol. Lights out, go home.

Friday felt the lightest touch against her back pocket. Most people would have written it off as the movement of displaced air as someone nearby walked past. Friday jerked her hand back and caught a slim wrist.

“Damn, I’ve been made,” Jaelle whispered.

“It’s just me,” Friday said, letting go. She beckoned Jaelle forward. “See that cluster of people three rows ahead of us, a little to the left? Heavy purses.”

Jaelle squinted in the direction Friday had indicated.

“Thanks, Miss Friday,” she said, then disappeared into the crowd again.

On stage, one of the clowns tossed her hoop up in the air, tumbled through the center of her twin’s hoop, and caught the one she’d thrown on the other side. The crowd clapped. That was the perfect moment to pick pockets. People’s hands were occupied, it was noisy, and the whole tent was filled with vibration, making little touches harder to notice. Friday felt the urge to check her own pockets again.

She did wonder at Johannes’s directive to go hard on pickpocketing this show. They were underground - had actually had to pay a toll to get into this giant bunker - and only after the steel door had been sealed behind the circus caravan had Friday learned that this was Washington, DC; home of Hemisphere Central. If Jaelle was caught picking the wrong pocket, that pocket had a pretty good chance of belonging to a powerful mobster. And the circus was trapped in here.

It was interesting how the Madsen and Graves circuit just happened to hit so many Hemisphere towns - from Everglades City to the accidental run in with the Good Guys - and now Central itself. No, interesting wasn’t the right word. At this point, it was almost boring, how obvious it was that Johannes was planning on handing her, Val, John, and Cody over to Hemisphere. Friday had finally tested her L-shaped pin against those used in the trailer hitches, and it was a perfect match. Johannes was trying to kill them, and Friday didn’t have a next move.

The fire-hooping ended with the lights shutting off just as the fires were extinguished. When they came back on, Johannes stood center stage to announce that the night of spectacle had come to a close. He’d changed backstage, and now wore a sequined suit - the left gold and the right black - and a cream cravat with a gold pin. Also cream colored was the porcelain mask that covered the top half of his face. Strange.

“Thank you all for coming to our show - that’s all the entertainment we have for you tonight. We hope you enjoyed the feats of athletics and wonder of the Madsen and Graves Circus.”

Friday spied Enis climbing down the ladder of the crow’s nest from which he controlled the lights. The crowd began to move toward the exit.

Friday wondered what Val thought about all this. She hadn’t tried to talk to him since he came back from Monocacy, but she’d pieced together from the gossip that Johannes had kissed him, it hadn’t been appreciated, and Val was pissed about it. Di, who was approaching sixty and had likely been with the circus since before Johannes was born, had called Johannes a dog and spat on the ground.

The crowd cleared the main tent surprisingly quickly - there were whispers of stopping at home to get changed. Interesting. Apparently the Madsen and Graves was the unwitting first half of a double feature.

As the last of the crowd left, circus members began to file into the main tent. Not unusual - after a show, there were sometimes special instructions for striking the sets. Friday saw Val hanging around the edges, and John and Cody front and center. She made her way over to Val.

“Catch my show?” she asked him.

Val looked at her, made an embarrassed face, then looked back to the stage.

“Would you rather I said yes?” he asked.

Friday smiled to herself, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“A girl can dream,” she said, and winked at him. Val rolled his eyes. For a second, the summer had rolled back to the start, before John, Cody, and the fire. The reminder of how things used to be made Friday forget what she wanted to say next.

“Alright people, gather round,” Johannes called out, tipping the mask up to show his face. “You all know your strike teams, but there’s a little change. Enis and Abernathy are standing in for me and Ezra. We’re gonna shmooze at the gala and see if we can’t get us some extra gigs next year.”

Ezra had joined Johannes onstage by this point. He too was dressed up, wearing a bright navy suit and polished red leather shoes. He held a red mask in one hand. 

Friday was surprised when Ezra projected his voice exactly as competently as his brother had.

“Once you’re done, feel free to go into town, buy things that aren’t good for you, and give Enis a hard time.”

The crowd of circus members laughed, and a few ribbed Enis.

“Alright, get outta here,” Johannes added.

Friday stole another glance at Val. His brow was furrowed, his eyes intense on the brothers as they descended the stage.

“Gala, huh,” Friday said. “Sounds like a high class affair.”

Val gave her the look that meant I know what you’re getting at.

“I’m just saying, beer and campfires are nice, but I’ve never been to a champagne-on-little-trays kinda party.”

Friday wanted to keep an eye on Johannes - to judge if this was going to be a planned handoff, or if he’d spend the gala advertising the bounties to interested parties. Either way, Friday needed as much advance warning as she could get. And if Val came to the gala with her, maybe he’d finally see Johannes for who he was.

“It’s a Hemisphere party,” Val said.

So don’t you think it’s interesting that Johannes is looking for work there? Friday thought. Come on, Val.

“No one’s gonna be looking for us there,” she said. “It’s a fancy ball. We’ll wear big sparkly dresses and masks and introduce ourselves as the stars of a not yet released Bellamy picture that no one’s even heard of yet. No further questions.”

“I’ll come, but I’m not doing that,” Val said. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Me? Trouble? Never,” Friday said, a wide grin growing on her face. “Come on, let’s find costumes.”

epilogue 15 || 16.2

[fuzzyporcupine]

lead me with your hands tied | chapter two

chapters:

1 - 2

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

–

“You don’t think I’m worthy enough to be the king?”

“No, I think you’re a spoiled brat who would rather play with pomp and circumstance than save his own people from starvation,” Levi spat.

Levi’s eyes were closed when the door to his room was opened once more.

“Enjoying your bath, sir?”

Startled, his limbs flailed in the water, soaking the tiles below. Cursing beneath his breath, Levi turned his gaze to give a half-hearted glare at the girl. Her hands were full of linens and fabrics, meant for him, he supposed. “It’s fine,” Levi finally answered, shoulders relaxing as he attempted to lean back comfortably into the tub. “Where’s Petra?”

“Oh, the Madam is preparing your studio, sir.” The girl nervously shuffled her feet, a piece of dark brown hair gracing her cheek as she shifted. “I’ve been told to bring you a change of clothes.” Levi opened his mouth to interject. “The Madam insisted,” the girl spoke before she could hear any complaints. “I’ll just gather your things and return them after they are washed, sir.” His consent was apparently not required as the girl dropped the linens off onto the bed and began collecting his items off the coffer. She was quick, pale hands hastily gathering his belongings. However, when her grasp hovered over the white cravat, Levi jolted upwards.

The sudden movement caught the girl’s attention, downturned olive eyes seeking out an answer to the distraction.

“I’ll…” He felt trapped between her leering and the tiny confines of the bath. “Leave it.” Her hand was still floating in midair above the object, thin brows now furrowed in question. Levi swallowed hard, hands beginning to slip on the sides of the tub. He didn’t want to explain - shouldn’t have to - to some servant girl why he insisted on washing something as inconsequential as a cravat. It wasn’t made of some rare, expensive material. Hadn’t been passed down from generation to generation. It was a simple item of clothing that, nonetheless, had Levi going white-knuckled.

The girl seemed to notice, curious stare fading into a look of something that appeared close to understanding. “Yes, sir.” Her hand dropped audibly to her side. “Of course.” She shuffled out of the room quietly, leaving him anxious and hung over the side of the bathtub like a true and tried idiot.

He looked down at the tile where a large puddle of water had congregated from his splashing. Stared at his warbled reflection as it shook and rippled with every drop that fell from his head. Wanted to reach inside that image and shake the bastard’s shoulders. To rip all those tainted, gruesome memories out of that mind.

That poor, poor mind.

There was a feeling pooling in his gut. Fear? Disgust? He couldn’t pin it. Only knew that the water which once felt like a sanctuary from all of travel’s aches and pains was starting to slowly drown him.

The tile was cold against his bare feet and toes curled as an unpleasant shiver traveled down his spine. The chill quickened his pace to the bed, eager to examine the clothing brought before him. Levi was almost positive that nothing would fit properly. He was, as loathe as he was to admit it, a small man. His uncle had always chucked the lack of growth up to Levi’s malnutrition as a child. But Kenny was no doctor, and Levi tended to never believe a single sinister word that weaseled out from those thin lips.

Fingers twitched anxiously at the thought of dragging their touch across the fine fabrics laid out across the bed. The dark blues and soft beiges complimented each other wonderfully, and Levi secretly hoped that the king would not be expecting the items back after he was finished with the commission. The linen glided effortlessly over his skin, smooth and soft. Surprisingly fitted, as well. Levi would have to thank Petra for her keen eye, he thought.

No sooner than he had finished fastening the last button of his tailcoat, the door creaked open again. This time, however, it was Petra’s face that greeted him and not a nosey servant girl.

“I take it the attire is suitable?” Her hands had migrated to her hips, and Levi couldn’t help but feel like a child who was about to be scolded. Maybe the servant girl had said he was an ass. More likely Petra just had a good intuition.

“Not bad,” Levi said, hands running down the front of his cinched waistcoat.

“Glad to hear it, sir.” Petra hesitated, mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to find the right words. “You scared poor Emmie to death, you know?” she finally spoke. Levi pressed his lips tightly together, not necessarily keen on the idea of a refreshment course in etiquette. “She said you near leaped out of the tub like a madman.”

Levi scoffed, “I think your poor Emmie may be suffering from a case of exaggeration.”

Petra’s lips quirked at that, the stern look in her temple softening a touch as she regarded the man. “She didn’t seem to think so, Mr. Ackerman. You had the girl in practical tears.”

“I tend to have that effect on women.”

Petra huffed overdramatically, “Of that I’m sure." Levi was positively certain that he should be affronted by the agreement. There was a mischievous twinkle in the woman's eye that begged otherwise. “Come now. The studio awaits.”

Levi brightened at the thought. He had traveled so far, and the idea of the studio was the only thing that he was sincerely looking forward to. To hell with the royal family. Levi just wanted to paint.

Petra led him down the hall, under the vast stone arches that supported the great structure. Their footsteps were muffled by the expanse of red that flowed from the singular carpet extending down the path. It was a rich, luxurious scarlet that brought warmth into an otherwise cold corridor. Beyond the rug, there was no other color. Only a bland variance in the shades of grey amongst the stone walls. It was a stark difference to the vibrant Jaeger family crests that flew their proud viridescence along the castle like a silent battle cry.

Or silent subjugation, Levi thought.

They paused at a twisted, metal staircase - the thing looking archaic and out of place amongst the brick and mortar.

“It’s this way,” Petra said as she lifted the hem of her dress. “Watch your step, sir. The stairs can be most unforgiving should you take a fall.” Levi imagined his head splitting open like a melon against the thick stone walls. To be fair, the splash of red would do the hollow halls a favor. However, the color would, ultimately, clash with the carpet.

He held on tightly to the narrow stair rail. It was rusted beneath his hands, a rogueish vermilion staining the black metal. The steps ached and creaked loudly in opposition to his frame being carried up their spine. Thankfully, the journey did not ascend too high, only above to the next floor. It was here that Levi was met with a door. A large, black door that seemed more imposing than all the castle grandeurs combined.

“We had to improvise where to place the studio,” Petra explained. “There’s been no need of one since the young Majesty’s mother passed.”

Ah, yes, Levi remembered her. Well, at least remembered hearing the tales. He’d never been so lucky as to meet the woman in the flesh. The beautiful and elegant Carla Jaeger. Shinganshina was truly a different land with the queen on the throne. Her peaceful hand helped keep the king’s tumultuous relationship with Marley in check. Some say it was her doing altogether. There was truly no one better fit to rule over the people. And then she died. Suddenly and with no warning, leaving Shinganshina with a manic king and two motherless sons. Soon after, the fragile peace with Marley had launched into an all-out war.

The residents of Shinganshina could do nothing but watch the world around them crumble while silently mourning the loss.

“A shame,” he murmured, sharp eyes studying the intricate patterns warped into the wood of the door. Looked a lot more likely the room would be housing an alchemist’s laboratory than an artist's workshop.

“Indeed.” Petra voice had lost the giddy edge, and she wrung dainty hands as the true intent of Levi’s comment weighed heavily in the air. It appeared that not only the villagers were still feeling the ill effects of the queen’s loss. The woman seemed to steel herself as she took a deep breath, “Forgive me, Mr. Ackerman. You’ve only just arrived, and I am already burdening you with unpleasant memories. You must think me a very poor excuse for a housekeeper.”

“It’s no trouble-”

“We shall make a glorious evening of this yet!” A pale fist was raised high into the air as she beamed with triumph. Levi couldn’t help but offer her a subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth.

“Come, look at what we've pieced together for you,” Petra said as she pulled on the large, bronze handle. “I’m sure you’ll be absolutely marveled.” Levi had his suspicions. It was foolish to think that the king knew a single element that would be required of an adequate studio.

The entrance opened with a satisfying click, followed by a long drawn-out creak that preceded a breeze of cold air from the other side.

And then, light.

The room was positively bathing in it.

Vertical windows lined the outer wall, reaching nearly from floor to ceiling. The effects of the evening sun shone unconstrained through the glass, painting the room in a bewitching orange glow. So, the king did know something about the art of portraiture after all. Or perhaps this was all Petra’s doing. Turning to look at the bright, expectant smile lighting up her features, Levi suspected it was the latter.

There was miscellaneous furniture placed throughout the room. A plush green sofa, purple needlepoint armchairs, a rustic wooden bureau. However, what stood out most of all to him was the fireplace. Elegantly crafted from carved stone and decorated with hints of teal and gold, the fireplace seemed to perfectly embody the image of an ideal royal heir. Strong and bold, yet handsome and rich. Levi detested the thought of comparing it to a spoiled brat, but couldn’t deny that the object would be the perfect backdrop to the painting.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Petra’s smile had not faded as she stood in the doorway. Levi felt a bit like their roles had been reversed - Petra morphing from chastising mother to expectant child eagerly waiting for praise. He indulged her, giving a quick nod of his head.

“You’ve done well, Ms. Ral. I look forward to capturing the prince’s likeness here.” The words were a half-truth. To paint again and be compensated for his talents, that was what he yearned for. The damn dirty prince could burn in a thousand hells as far as Levi was concerned.

“I am honored, truly, sir.” Petra bowed lowly. He stiffened, not accustomed to the actions one would typically reserve for nobles and royalty. If only the woman knew that she was most undoubtedly wealthier than the man to whom she so easily bent her head. “I will have one of my girls bring your supplies here if that is quite alright?” He could easily manage this on his own, but Levi was positive that Petra had certainly already sent one of the servant girls into his room. Agreeing with her now was simply common courtesy.

Levi made a vague noise of approval. “Of course.” He turned to begin a more thorough inspection of the studio when the sound of quickened footfall called his gaze.

“Oh, Mr. Ackerman, I’m sure that you are eager to get to work, but you must remember.” Levi quirked a suspicious brow. “I said this would be a most glorious evening. What is a magnificent affair without a proper meal to finish off the day?” Petra looked at him as if she were anticipating an answer, but Levi fancied that the woman would enlighten him without his query. “His Majesty has ordered the chef to prepare the finest venison and vegetables I’m sure you’ve ever indulged upon. You are the guest of honor, after all.” Levi tried not to let his expression sour. This was inevitable, wasn’t it? He could not very well manage to paint a picture of the king’s son without at least meeting the royal family first. The thought alone made Levi’s skin itch.

"That's not necessary," he tried, tongue heavy in his mouth as he searched for a suitable escape.

"Oh, don't be silly, Mr. Ackerman," Petra laughed, "I'm sure you are absolutely famished. And His Majesty insisted, after all." Levi felt his face morph into a sneer as his jaw tightened.

His Majesty insisted.

Of course, the bastard insisted.

“As His Majesty orders.” Hopefully, the venom in his tone was not too apparent. If it was, Levi would simply blame it on the journey. A strenuous voyage could make any man affable. Petra's smile fell, and Levi inwardly cringed. He'd have to watch his mouth, the damned thing it was. Got him in a fair amount of scuffles in his youth. However, the stakes here were much higher than a black eye or bloody nose. “Lead the way,” he continued, trying not to sound so incredibly vexed. Petra nodded silently, all former excitement replaced with a disposition as if she’d just sentenced a man to place his head on the block.

“Certainly. Please follow me, sir.” She quickly turned on her heel, the bounce in her step replaced with a rigid tread. Thin nostrils contracted as he heaved a deep sigh.

This was inevitable, Levi reminded himself. And he began his march towards the dining hall, leaving the cold chill of the studio behind him.

[bush-viper-cutie]

Green Lace and Peonies

(Part 2 of The Crystal Ball)

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,276

Rating: M for Mature

Plot:  Severus Snape goes on a date with the girl his crystal ball paired him with. The date does not go as he thought it would, but he comes to realize how perfect she really is for him.

Warnings: It gets steamy :o

A/N: Back by popular demand! I hope this is a good continuation (wasn’t exactly sure how or where to take it) and that it wasn’t too “steamy” (or idk maybe it should have been more) and still just as fluffy but here it is. I’d love any thoughts on it :)

Posted: 4/26/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus’s heart was pounding as loud as his footsteps on the kitchen tile, clutching a gentle note in his trembling hand. He had paced away the dust in his living room floor already and would have to move on to his bedroom soon.

“What do I write?” his whispers carried throughout his empty home, bouncing off the torn wallpaper and echoed in his ears.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the beautiful girl he’d met a few days ago, who had given him this note as well as herself all to him. She had said she’d be expecting his owl, but that felt like an eternity ago. Maybe she forgot about me already.

That was partly why he couldn’t bring himself to finish a single letter he started. Everything he wrote seemed idiotic. ‘Hello’ ‘Morning’ ‘You wanted to go on a date?’ ‘Go on a date with me?’ Everything seems so… he sighed and rubbed his eyes. Pathetic.

He pressed his hands on the edge of the sink and leaned forward, staring into the rusty drain. The only reason he was even still fretting about her was the effect her words had on his very being. She had called him her soulmate, given herself to him, and kissed his cheek with the softest lips in all of existence. A kiss he hadn’t stopped thinking about for a second. A kiss he recreated in his head, in his dreams... he blushed and turned away.

If there was any chance she was still waiting for him, he had to take it. Severus sat back down at the small round table in the corner of the kitchen and picked up the quill for the hundredth time that day. He looked at the note she’d attached to the flower she’d given him and placed it next to the picture of himself in his seventh year with three red hearts floating beside his face.

The sun was setting so he could no longer start it off with ‘Good morning,’ unless he sent it tomorrow – though he doubted he’d want this letter in his home for longer than it took to write it. He started with her name and a comma. Good… the bare minimum, he mocked himself.

He sighed and leaned back, letting his head hang off his shoulder, drawing all his hair to fall back and sweep the dusty counter behind him. He ran his hand through it, untangling knots as he went. He closed his tired eyes and shook his head. Just do it. Just write anything and send it off. She won’t even respond anyways.

He huffed and started scrawling as fast as he could, writing the first thing that popped into his head – it was like words were pinned to a board and he was throwing darts at random with every sentence.

I’d like to see you again if you have the time. Anywhere you’d like. I understand if you don’t, though. Don’t bother responding to this letter if that’s the case. I’ll be waiting your owl or lack thereof. I’ll get the message either way.

Severus Snape

He groaned. Just send it. He walked over to the opposite corner where a small owl slept in a large metal cage. He’d rented the owl from the post office for a few days before coming back to his house, though he’d have to return to London soon to give it back or face the past-due charges.

“Here,” he folded up the letter and shoved it into the little pocket tied to the owl’s leg.

The owl hooted, relieved to finally be able to stretch his wings, and hopped down onto Severus’ pale outstretched finger. The owl shook his wings open and waited for him to fling open the window, flying out into the evening sky ready to complete its duties.

That night Severus could do nothing but cringe at what he remembered writing, hoping he was exaggerating his words in his memories. He shook his sheets and slipped inside, tucking his nightshirt down and punching his pillow a few times before dropping his head onto it. He closed his eyes and ran a finger over the warm sensation on his cheek, remembering the way her nose brushed his skin.

. . .

There was a clicking sound, like pebbles hitting a window. Severus slowly opened his eyes and looked towards the light shining onto the floor. A weirdly shaped shadow moved around from one corner of the square of light to the other.

Severus sat up and flattened his hair, yawning wide and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He could feel the second his brain clicked on, because the lumpy shadow very quickly turned into the silhouette of a small owl.

He leapt off the bed and forced the bedroom window up, letting the tiny bird in. The owl flew to the top of his dresser and extended his leg. Severus’ heart stopped beating and his lungs ceased to function. He was dead by all accounts except for the quiet words ringing in his head: She responded. Merlin, she responded.

He quickly slid the letter out and turned on the light, moving the paper up close to his eyes as he read her writing.

Severus,

I want to see you soon. You’ve said anywhere I like, so let’s make it your place. Since you’re hosting, I’ll bring the food. Respond with any day or time. Be warned, if you don’t respond I’ll arrive at your doorstep next Friday. And if you think I won’t follow an owl, I will. Though I prefer your Floo location.

Severus chuckled. “‘All yours,’” she’d written it at the bottom just like the note. He had to admit he liked her humor as much as her lovely words. Wait… Severus held the letter closer suddenly. “‘your place.’”

He bit down his tongue in anger and rushed downstairs, looking around at the hole-ridden rug in the foyer, the piles and piles of books in his living room, and chipped paint and torn wallpaper in his kitchen.

“Damn it!” He hadn’t expected she’d want to come over. A restaurant or pub, sure, but his house? Why! He quickly scribbled his Floo location on a piece of spare parchment and sent the owl out again. “At least I don’t have to worry about cooking,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He spent the rest of the week doing what little he could to make the place look more like it had before… before he had left. He remembered the state of the house the last time he had seen it before leaving (running away more like) his house. The foyer had a working light that illuminated the beige wallpaper walls and light grey rug that covered the wooden floor from the welcome mat to the back-patio door.

The living room had a television set and a recliner chair with dust-free shelves full of souvenirs from his father’s schooling years and cans of empty beer. The kitchen was full of dirty dishes but the handles on every cabinet were polished and every surface was spotless. The walls were covered in a disgusting pastel yellow flower pattern from the previous owners… And now after four years the place looked abandoned – though it had been left to rot for almost two years before he moved back in.

He took out his wand and got to repairing the rug and removing the horrid wallpaper. The next day he fixed the handles and doorknobs of the only bathroom – which was upstairs – and cabinets. The rest of the days were spent trying to find space on the shelves for all his books. He shoved them through every space he could find above the book rows any way they would fit. And if they didn’t fit, then into his room they would go.

“Finally,” he shook his dusty hair and stepped back. The bookcase now looked like a solid wall of book spines but there were none out, which made the place look roomier.

The place looked… well she shouldn’t be surprised by any of it. The house now looked more like how he kept his potions classrooms – in some sort of organized mess. He’d spent the week cleaning in his night shirt because the only other thing he owned was his teaching clothes – though of course he couldn’t wear the cloak – and would settle on wearing his frock coat only.

Severus sat in his chair in the corner of the living room and closed his eyes. All that was left to do was wait for Friday to arrive.

. . .

The clock ticked five and Severus stared into the mirror, yet to button up his coat. He pressed down his hair and looked over his dark circled eyes and crooked nose. Sighing, he began the ritual of buttoning up starting from his collar – tucking his cravat in first – and making his way down to his waist, breathing slowly.

It was now six as he stood in the living room and turned towards the fireplace. He fidgeted with his hands behind his back and tried hard not to bite his bottom lip, fearing it would bruise like it always did. The fireplace lit with roaring flames and turned bright green. Severus straightened and heard his heart thumping loudly as the seconds went on, feeling like eternities just waiting for her to cross the fire.

A smooth leg in elegant heels stepped through, followed by soft-looking flowing hair as she ducked out from the fire and stepped into the dismal room. Her kind smile instantly lit up the place and he wanted very badly to look away and hide himself in his bedroom.

Her smile widened as she caught his eyes. “Severus,” she came closer.

He breathed in and was reminded of crushed peony powder. He noticed the basket she carried and took it, walking out of the room she was in and into the solitude of the kitchen where he set it down. He wiped his hands on his coat and let out a rugged breath. Calm down, for fuck’s sake.

“Severus? Are you alright?”

Severus turned to see her leaning on the door frame. His eyes betrayed him and scanned over her summer dress. The thin straps over her shoulders, the buttons down her chest, the flowery pattern of the skirt…

“Yes,” he cleared his throat and stepped aside, letting her go through the basket while he watched.

She pulled out several boxes, a jar of cut up fruit, and a green checkered blanket. She turned around and looked him over, licking her bottom lip as if tasting something sweet, “I thought we could have a type of picnic indoors. And it looks,” she glanced into the living room, “like you have room. Is that ok?”

Severus tore his eyes away from hers and nodded stiffly. He picked up the blanket and laid it out over the living room rug. She placed his own plates and glasses on the blanket and waved her wand, summoning the rest of the things.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she smiled and took a seat, folding her legs to the side and smoothing out her skirt.

Severus did as she said and crossed his legs. She leaned over and poured out the food carefully onto their plates – sautéed salmon and vegetables with a savory-looking glaze he couldn’t wait to try. At this point he wasn’t sure what was making his mouth water more, the food or the way her eyes drifted down to his lips as they talked.

The sun was now setting, changing the mood of the room. Her laughter turned into giggles and her eye gleamed with mischief every time she touched his arm. His heart leapt out of his chest and into his throat every time he felt her hand on him. He had counted at least five times he smiled stupidly during the meal and now, looking down at her hand on his arm again, made six.

“It’s getting late,” Severus cleared his throat, noticing the darkness looming outside the kitchen window. “What time did you need to be home?”

“No specific time, though I have an interview tomorrow morning,” she waved her wand and cleared the blanket of the dishes, glasses, and napkins. “You still have time tonight though, don’t you?” She whispered, inching closer to him.

He looked down at her and nodded, unable to help himself from leaning in further. She sat up on her knees and moved closer still, stopping right in front of him. Severus could feel his heart begin to beat faster and his hands becoming moist with a nervous sweat. He clenched his fists and kept them on his knees. It had only been a few hours since her arrival and yet he felt like he was coming undone. He was so used to keeping his composure so easily, it was frightening how fast he lost it.

“Thank you,” he breathed, “for the meal.”

“You’re welcome.” She lifted her hand and tucked a black strand of hair behind his ear, “May I kiss you, Severus?”

He looked at her intently, trying hard to distinguish the look she was giving him. He hadn’t expected everything to be going so well, let alone to be receiving another kiss that could melt him on the spot. He nodded and silently begged for her to kiss him like she’d done before. “Yes.”

He closed his eyes, waiting for a warm sensation on his cheek and felt instead her hand on his neck, pulling him in closer. He leaned forward, more than willing, and felt his lips go warm. He opened his eyes, shocked, and saw she was tilting her head, eyes closed as she kissed his lips.

He followed her motions and let out a deep and unexpected moan, pulling back quickly, “Sorry, I – ”

She pulled him back in and this time he felt her tongue slip into his mouth. Merlin, please don’t let this stop. Every fiber of his being was on fire. She ran her tongue over his and took his trembling hands in hers. He let her guide his hands to her hips, making him moan again, except this time she wasn’t letting him pull away.

He gripped her hips instinctively and closed his eyes, picturing her as she was now, leaning over him in her summer dress and heels. He could feel his wet lips being pulled on by hers and shivered with anticipation. His hand moved up her back and pushed her closer, although he could have never expected her reaction.

She sat up off her heels and moved closer, lifting her right leg over his and then her left, now sitting on his crossed-leg lap, her skirt spread over them as she pressed her lips deeper into his. He moaned again and Merlin only knows what possessed him to press her down deeper into his lap but feeling the pressure it caused made him moan louder.

He felt a smile pull at her lips as he pressed her down. She dug her fingers in his hair and start pulling. The air around them was starting to feel very hot, even for a summer night. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pulled herself away, trailing kisses along his jaw and up to his ear.

“Severus,” she moaned.

Please don’t stop. Please, he turned away, giving her his ear for full attention and sighed as she whispered and teased him further. His hands slowly trailed down to the edge of her skirt, playing with the hem, letting her know he wanted to go further. Just then she leaned back and pulled him with her as she laid down on the green checkered blanket.

“I’m yours, Severus. From the moment you sent me that message,” she pulled his cravat loose slowly and let it drop beside them, “You’re my soulmate.”

He propped himself on his elbows and bit his lip as the words reached his ears like a blessed melody. He trailed his eyes away from hers and down to where his black hair rested on the small buttons of her dress.

“I want to be all yours,” he whispered, feeling her heels slide up along the blanket, her thighs press against his torso, and her knees lock him in place. All yours.

He climbed further up her body and pressed his lips into hers, needing to feel her sweet tongue inside his mouth once more. Make me yours. I’ll do anything. He kicked off his dress shoes and let her take his left hand and place it on her knee behind him. He felt her gentle fingers press on his hand and guide him down her thigh and under her skirt but letting him finish the movement on his own.

He stretched out his fingers and slid them slowly deeper under her skirt until they felt a textured cloth by her hips. He let out another moan and noticed she gave another smile as they kissed. He followed the cloth down towards her lower back and wedged his fingers between the ground and her warm skin, feeling how smooth and soft she was.

“Squeeze me,” she whispered into his lips.

“Merlin… you tease too much,” he laughed.

“I’m not teasing,” her smile grew as she watched his eyes widen.

He slid his hand down from the cloth and traced a small circle on her plump curves. He squeezed, feeling his thoughts cease as he focused on the moment. He found himself pushing his hips down on her harder and moaning at the mounding pressure. He could feel his ears and cheeks going red and heard a small giggle escape her lips. He looked away and pressed his forehead down in the crook of her neck and kissed her collarbone gently, trying to reel his thoughts back in place.

“Can we go to your room?”

“M-my room?” He knew his bedroom was a complete mess. He had shoved anything out of place in there, practically throwing it in. The only thing he knew he organized neatly were his newly acquired jars of eastern specimens from Knockturn Alley. Would the alphabetical labeling impress her?

“Severus?” She pulled his chin up to look at her pleading eyes. She pressed him closer to her with her legs, begging him to give in.

“Alright,” the word came out as a trembling breath. He did not want the night to ever end, even if it meant facing more embarrassment. She already had him sweating and thinking things he dared not repeat but he didn’t let himself imagine what would happen in his bedroom lest he lose himself completely.

He stood up and helped her to her feet. She jumped up and kissed his cheek roughly like he’d seen girls do to their partners a million times back in school. It made him blush and so he quickly turned, hiding his face behind his hair and lead the way up. He pulled on the sleeves of his coat down further over his hands as they ascended the stairs to the second floor and walked the few steps to his bedroom door.

He opened it and stepped aside, letting her in first, unable to watch her reaction to the old highly-likely-to-creek-loudly bed, torn sheets, piles of books, pots, and cauldrons littered in the corners. Please don’t be disgusted.

She stepped into the room and turned, pulling him into a teasing kiss and lead him to his bed. Not uncomfortable about the mess? She is my soulmate, he smiled.

“Excited?” she pushed him down on the bed.

“I’m happy you came over,” he was glad the lights weren’t bright in here either as he was sure his face was more than just hot to the touch.

She curled her index finger under his chin and stepped between his legs, lifted her leg over his thigh and rested her knee on the bed next to him. His hands automatically moved to her waist, but she pushed them away, winking.

“I have something for you,” she kissed his lips lightly. “Lean back.”

He did as he was told and watched with a parted mouth as she began unbuttoning her dress, pulling the strands over her shoulders, and letting the dress drop to the floor. She trailed her hand from her neck and down her body. His eyes followed her hand, admiring the matching lace underwear set she had on. He recognized the cloth was a Slytherin-green color, along with two silver bows on either side of her hips, ready to be pulled apart. He licked his lips and closed his mouth, remaining as composed as possible.

“I wasn’t sure what your favorite color was, so I thought your Slytherin colors would do,” she winked and leaned forward, placing her other knee beside him and sat down on his lap again. “What do you think?”

“You’re perfect.” The words jumped out of his mouth before he could even process his thoughts, “I mean – t-the – Green and silver look really nice.” He could tell by the way she was smiling his face had probably gone full red. I can’t believe she is actually wearing this for me. She thought of me... She wanted to impress me. At this point his house could catch on fire, burning every book he own, and it would still be the greatest night of his life.

He turned his head as she leaned forward, kissing his ear and sending another shiver down his body.

“You’re everything I want,” she whispered, “You’re all I’ll ever want.”

Severus closed his eyes, listening intently at every word she spoke like a spell she was putting him under. She wants me as much as I want her. Only me… Only ever me. His hands trailed up her thigh and pulled her closer, “I’m yours. I’m all yours.” He pressed into her kiss and took in every sensation, wanting to remember everything about tonight for the rest of his life.

She pulled away slightly, “Even while you keep teaching at Hogwarts… And I work elsewhere?” Her words were nothing more than a murmur.

Severus opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She was hiding something. He could tell by the way her closed-mouth smile didn’t reach her eyes this time.

“Of course. You’re…” he paused to look deep into her eyes. “My soulmate…” he could feel the weighty truth of his words.

“Promise?”

He gently nudged her off and sat up beside her on the bed, “I promise.” His tone was stern, hoping to convey how deeply he meant it.

She smiled genuinely once more. She undid the straps of her heels and slid them off. She pulled the sheets up and slipped inside, “Join me?”

He nodded and unbuttoned his coat all the way, sliding it off and throwing it over the footboard. She reached up and slid her finger under his waistcoat and pulled him down under the sheets with her. Unsure how to position himself he laid on his back and looked over at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

She giggled and kissed his jaw lightly, pulling herself towards him and laid her head on his chest. She draped an arm over him and held him tight. This was also a moment he would not forget, having often wished he had someone to hold or anyone who even wanted to hold him. He rested his arm over her body and played with another silver ribbon he found on the green lace. His eyelids started drooping and he wished she could stay the night.

“I wish I didn’t have to, but I have to leave soon,” she sighed.

He didn’t want this perfect night to end. She was wonderful, soft, kind, and liked him despite all the terrible things wrong with what he could barely call his home. He cleared his throat, “I understand… Good luck in your interview.”

She smiled and kissed him one last time before standing up to dress. He watched her sit and slide her heels back on and stand. She surprised him when she reached for his hand and held it as they walked down the stairs and back into the living room together.

She grabbed the basket and threw Floo powder into the fireplace. Green fire roared to life and he pulled her in for a hug. Her arms wrapped around him and he felt like never pulling away from her embrace, wanting to hold her like that for the rest of his life.

She pulled away and picked up his cravat from the floor, he reached to take it from her, but she pulled it back. She laughed and reached behind her back and then reached into her dress, pulling on the green lace and offered it up to him, “Do you accept an exchange?”

He smiled wide, loving the constant teasing, “If I must.” He chuckled.

“Dream of me tonight,” she kissed his cheek and winked, a sparkle of mischief present in her eyes once more, “And I’ll see you soon, Severus.”

He felt that stupid smile of his creep up onto his face once more and nodded, watching her disappear in the fire. He looked around embarrassed, as if he weren’t alone in his home, and ran upstairs. He quickly changed into his night shirt and crawled into bed, pulling the sheets up to his nose and breathed in. It still smelled like crushed peony powder. He opened his drawer and placed the green lace inside, still amazed she had worn it just for him. She would definitely haunt his dreams tonight.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

Request: 

Thank you

@wow-life-love4​

@x-avantgarde-x​

and a few others (not sure if you wanted to be tagged but thank you for requesting a second part)

and for all the lovely comments on part one!

[danwhobrowses]

AEW: All Out 2021 - Initial Reaction and Thoughts

I have kept so far off of social media it's not funny And I hope you know how difficult that is being a QA tester

But AEW is back in Chicagoland, there'll be homecomings, title defenses and one would bet some new faces, so without further ado let's get to it

Spoilers on the PPV, watch it on BR or Fite then come back

As I did with Summerslam, I will be marking who I predicted to win in Italics so we can see how right or wrong I was. I also must confess even radio silence could not save me from learning about 1 debut, but it was one I had anticipated.

The Buy In

As usual we started with promo package overkill, but they did right by starting with CM Punk's one because it is a great package - also the video was good.

Half an hour later - which we could've fit one or two matches in - we get to the first match.

Jurassic Express (Jungle Boy & Luchasaurus) and Best Friends (Chuck Taylor, Orange Cassidy & Wheeler Yuta) [w/Marko Stunt] def. HFO (Matt Hardy, Private Party & TH2) [w/The Blade] (Submission on Angelico by Jungle Boy via Snare Trap) Well that was a mouthful. Our quickly put-together clusterfuck started with the HFO coming out quickly, then the Pixies coming out with a nice pop as Orange grabbed a sign hoping that Trent gets well soon. Baltimora had the bigger pop because everyone loves Baltimora, and Jungle Boy, also I loved the sign 'Jurassic Times demand Jurassic Measures'.

Matt and Chuck start but Matt demands OC to come out, Chuck tries to lock up but gets kicked away, and tags in Yuta, who gets thrown in the corner too, so Yuta tags Orange in...and Orange tags Luchasaurus in XD Hardy isn't too willing to try and shove the big dino man and tags in Jack Evans, who gets thrown around. JB gets tagged in, showing off his skillset with the rope flip arm drag and an inch perfect dropkick. Yuta and Kassidy are tagged in next, but Yuta's baited into Quen's blind tag, leading into Angelico to be tagged in. Yuta escapes a wristlock and turns it into an Octopus Stretch, but Evans puts him in an Ankle Lock, so Taylor puts him in a chinlock, so Kassidy climbs on a backpack sleeper, JB then latches an Ankle Lock, so Quen locks in the Cravat, Luchasaurus is out next, assessing who to hit and just decides to tackle them all apart. Proper Indy spot that was.

Luchasaurus is now playing like a hot tag, chop one man, drop the other, chop the one man, drop the other, Kassidy hits his high pitch scream as the big man comes back around to Jack Evans, hitting that wonderfully brutal Chokesault GTS he used to murder Fuego that one time (they didn't name the move, so I'm calling it the Extinction Event). Luchasaurus now stalks Hardy, but Hardy is using himself to distract the big man from Private Party's blindside, he stops them with a chokeslam setup but Hardy hits the chop block, leading to a kick combo from PP and driven into the ring post. Cassidy comes up behind all 3 next though, Superkicks of Death for each of them, Hardy's beside himself from this relentless assault and tries to charge OC, but Cassidy turns it into a Waistlock to push Hardy through the ropes. PP take advantage though, flatliner into Kassidy's knees, then a Standing Shooting Star Press Sandwiching Cassidy again. Taylor comes out next, dodging PP and then using Quen's charge as a release Suplex into Kassidy who was sitting in the lower corner. TH2 run into the DDT/Flatliner combo and then PP are taken out by Taylor's Tope Con Hilo while Yuta splashes Angelico - but Evans breaks it up.

TH2 then hit Yuta with some combos; Back/Neckbreaker, then a launch into Evans' boots, but Taylor breaks up the pin. PP throw Taylor out next though, hitting the Gin n Juice on Yuta, Angelico makes the pin but OC kinda half-heartedly shoves Angelico to break the pin, dragging Yuta in the corner as he puts in the pockets. Two lariat dodges lead to a no hands headscissors on Angelico, a 2 for 1 hurricanrana on PP and a dropkick kip up on Evans, Hardy though sneaks up and hits the Twist of Fate. But his focus is on the illegal man, Yuta tags in JB while Taylor dumps Hardy out, both Taylor and Yuta then Tope on PP, but they don't get much and PP roll back in with Angelico. Crowd firmly behind JB he misses the rebound lariat on Kassidy but recovers by sweeping Quen, Brainbuster on Kassidy as Angelico comes to, JB kicks him to his knees, Evans comes out but he kicks Evans into Angelico, Evans punches JB away as Angelico stands up with Evans on his shoulder, but this only acts as a threat to Luchasaurus who lifts JB on his shoulders, both men trading blows with JB clotheslining Evans off of Angelico.

Quen though looks to use this as a Doomsday Device setup, but JB matrix dodges it, so Kassidy now tries a crossbody, which JB reverses into a Spanish Fly/Moonsault Fallaway Slam (I've only ever seen such a counter in Lucha Underground when Cage reversed the Doomsday Device into a twisting powerslam, I popped for that as well). Luchasaurus is left standing but the Blade threatens involvement, so he eats a Pump Kick, Marko then climbs on Luchasaurus' shoulders and dives on the Blade. Tail Whip by Luchasaurus and then the Snare Trap by JB ends the match.

Post match Jurassic Express leave so Best Friends can Give The People What They Want™ but TH2 jump Yuta and PP jump Taylor, Evans delays Orange for a bit as a hulking figure marches into the ring. Big Bad Butch is back in the game, beheading OC with a lariat before his patented knee steps. He throws OC down as the heels look to swarm OC, but Jurassic Express, Varsity Blonds, Dante Martin, 10 and John Silver make the save. Assisted by the Jurassic Express, Best Friends give the Blonds, Dante, 10 and Silver What The People Want™ much to Silver's giddy elation. JB also looks killer in OC's shades as OC 'climbs' the corners to gesture the crowd.

It was a fun ass indy match to get the crowd hot, it could never try to top Deeb/Riho so it didn't, it did surprise me that it didn't lean too much on the Best Friends/HFO narrative but that was proven to be due to Butcher's return post-match. Last thing this kinda pointless feud needs though is more bodies, maybe being outnumbered will cause Hardy to back off? I mean does anyone remember what they were fighting over? I think this started with Kris and Bunny maybe? It's ran it's course is all.

Afterwards we got a sneak peak of the Rhodes' latest vanity project 'Rhodes to the Top'. Doesn't really interest me tbf I don't wanna see Total AEW Divas you know? I feel like it's just gonna make both of the Rhodes' look bad and since Hana Kimura I have little patience for pseudo-reality and forced drama.

Dan Lambert interrupts commentary from the crowd flanked by 3 UFC fighters and the Men of the Year (I still prefer ScorpEgo). They seem to have threatened to do something later in the show. JR gets his introduction and the PPV begins!

Main Card

It never ceases to make me smile that AEW still uses the 'And you know what that means' to start their shows.

TNT Championship Miro (c) def. Eddie Kingston (Pinfall via Matchka Kick) The announcement of the title match was met with a big roar from the crowd as the Chicago natives were firmly behind Kingston, even having a 'Redeem Deez Nuts' sign AND Shirt. Miro got a nice pop too, signs also pick the perfect spot with Miro because before it was 'Miro vs Ishii When?' and this time it's 'We want AJ and Punk vs CJ and Miro'. Eddie shows no intimidation, even happy and goading the Redeemer into the fight.

Miro makes the charge but runs into a knee to the gut, but he trips Kingston to try and latch on Game Over, Kingston wriggles out and tries the Half Nelson Suplex but Miro powers out and rolls out of the ring. Both men pace as Kingston holds the early advantage, shimmying his shoulders with the fans' clapping, Miro catches the kick but Kingston just pokes the eyes instead, chops to the corner, then machine gun chops to the next corner, Miro tries to grapple but Kingston thrusts him with an Exploder. Miro's rattled out the ring, so Eddie follows, but runs into a kick and is thrown into the barricade, body tackle and superkick by Miro as he again throws Kingston into the opposite barricade, but Kingston rebounds and retaliates with a big boot and returns to the ring.

Knowing he can't win by Countout, Kingston looks to dive at Miro from the apron, but his charge is countered into a twisting powerslam onto the exercise mats, Miro focuses on the back, driving it into the ring post twice but it's not even 1. Miro then focuses on the hand, biting and stomping it, knowing that this nullifies grip, chops and the Uraken, he chokes Kingston on the ropes before another kick to the spine. As Miro stares at the crowd Kingston grits his teeth and stands back up, slapping Miro's beard in hopes of a comeback before being smacked with a forearm. Two Sliding Elbow Drops only gets one, Miro then wears Eddie with a choke but Eddie powers back, couple of chops but he can't lift for the Suplex, allowing Miro to hit a high end dropkick, he soaks in the boos for a bit then body charges Kingston in the corner, he eats a retaliation chop by Kingston, but the second one makes him wince. May've been a miscommunication next, Miro looked like he body charged Kingston who was leaving the corner, but he quickly missed the corner splash, if it was a miscommunication it was well-recovered. Enzugiri by Kingston and a sliding uppercut knocks Miro out the ring, but the Suicide Dive is intercepted by an Enzugiri by Miro. Kingston recovers with a Saito Suplex but both men are reeling.

Miro gets up first, hitting Kingston with forearms and pulling him up, once Kingston's on his feet though he starts getting his fire back, trades of forearms and chops ends with two Side slams for 2. He goes for the Uraken but Miro rolls out the ring on sight, only to eat a Suicide dive. Miro misses the pump kick back in the ring and gets hit with a Fisherman's Suplex pinfall for 2. Crowd is hot behind Kingston, but he's lured into the corner charge so Miro can pummel at the back, Kingston tries to hold onto the turnbuckle pad but rips it off as Miro German's him, Matchka kick floors Eddie, as Miro devilishly smiles with half his chest bruised by chops. He calls for the Game Over, but before he cinches back Kingston starts moving to the ropes, he gets the regular Accolade version which allows Eddie to free an arm and grab the rope.

Crowd is getting really loud now as Miro gets more frustrated, he grabs the Turnbuckle pad but throws it away in reconsideration, opening him up for Eddie to strike: Uraken, DDT! But the Ref was disposing of the turnbuckle pad, gifting that extra few seconds for Miro to kick out at 2. Crowds kayfabe chant 'you fucked up' at the ref while Kingston prepares for the piledriver, but his back gives in twice making him opt for knee strikes to the head. He sees the exposed turnbuckle and prepares to drive Miro into it, but the ref stands in the way - knowing it'd lead to a DQ. The position we know well as Miro uses his frame to obscure the Ref's vision from the heel kick low blow, a clean roundhouse to the head staggers Eddie more and then the Matchka allows the 3.

Strong opener, good narrative of both men exposing the weak points of the other's body parts. The low blow is a bit cheap but it creates the paradox of Miro's holier than thou attitude. Kingston still proves himself strong in defeat, and as I anticipated AEW didn't make him tap out, so the continuity of his I Quit feud with Moxley remains intact, with Miro pushed this far and having to cheat it also sells Kingston as more than capable of being Miro's equal. Miro will have W no. 7 now, and it remains a prize waiting for a young prospect to crack open.

Jon Moxley def. Satoshi Kojima (Pinfall via Death Rider) Kojima got a loud welcome from Chicago but they sang for Moxley as he came down the crowd in a GCW hoodie - sadly no GCW belt which he won recently from Matt Cardona. Bell rings and Kojima offers a handshake, but Moxley is a man of his word, the bell rang so he has no respect, and offers a middle finger instead.

Stiff chops and forearms start the physicality, both men get a kick to the gut but it's Kojima who gets the early advantage with a shoulder tackle and a titty dance next to the titty master. Koji Lariat is avoided by Mox who flees the ring, but Kojima flattens him with a Tope, Moxley elbows Kojima away when the NJPW legend attempts to return to the ring and delivers a suicide dive of his own, Russian Leg Sweep onto the barricade and then Moxley attacks the hand. Knees to the head then a chop in the corner keeps Moxley's confidence high, but Kojima barrages him with Machine gun chops, throwing Moxley into the corner then landing the Elbow Drop for an early 2. Forearms are countered with a backwards slam, he calls for the Brainbuster but Kojima holds his ground, reversing it to put Moxley on the top turnbuckle. Moxley bites at Kojima, so Kojima bites back and lands the Superplex. Both men fight on the Apron before Kojima hits Mox with a forward falling DDT on the apron, DDT back in the ring for another 2 as duelling chants for Mox and Kojima divides the crowd.

Bleeding from the elbow, Mox counters a Koji Cutter with a Choke, twisting it into a Money Clip for 2, then transitioning to a Cross Armbreaker. Kojima gets a leg to the rope but Moxley knees him in the face, Kojima prevents the Paradigm Shift and hits a Brainbuster for 2, Koji Lariat again is averted but this time with a German. Mox tries two standing lariats, but Kojima won't fall, he tries a running lariat but Kojima collides it with a lariat of his own, staggering Moxley, Kojima feels that third time's the charm but Moxley gets a high knee, tries the Paradigm Shift again but this time is countered by a short-arm lariat and a Koji Cutter. Both men trade blows, Moxley uses the ropes but runs into a Discus but roars back with a Rebound Lariat for 2, as Kojima rolls though it's straight into the Bulldog Choke that Kojima gets to the ropes to break.

Moxley rethinks his strategy by kicks to the gut, but he's caught and hit with Mongolian Chops, Moxley headbutts him away long enough to twist Kojima's charge into a rolling Paradigm Shift, Moxley gestures to the crowd, picks him up for the Death Rider for 3.

After the match Moxley shows his respect, bows to Kojima and looks to take a breather, but the music has changed.

The King

Minoru Suzuki

Crowd Roars alive as Moxley looks in disbelief, but the sound is real, the Kaze ni Nare is real and oh baby, Minoru Suzuki is Damn Real. Suzuki makes sure the crowd is ready, but they were born ready as Kaze ni Nare erupts from the building, Murder Grandpa vs Moxley II looks imminent as they stare each other down. Suzuki looks ready for a fight though, hitting Mox with a forearm, Moxley retaliates with the bleeding elbow, Moxley's blood only adds to Suzuki's scoffing as he returns fire, Suzuki goes for a big boot but Moxley laughs it off and goes for a Lariat, but Suzuki holds ground too, Moxley tries again but Suzuki locks him into the Rear Naked Choke, fading Moxley enough to hit the Gotch Piledriver and placing his foot over the prone Moxley.

We knew AEW were put in a corner when Tanahashi was unable to fulfill the planned match with Moxley, and major props to Kojima too for stepping up, Moxley definitely worked to show off Kojima's strengths in the match but not too much to feel like Mox was fully in danger, both men still had an ace in the hole. Mox's victory though only elevates Suzuki's arrival more for the crowd, giving the anticipated rematch time to build where Kojima's match could not.

AEW Women's Championship Dr. Britt Baker DMD (c) [w/Rebel 'Reba' Tanea & Jamie Hayter] def. Kris Statlander [w/Orange Cassidy] (Ref Stoppage Submission via Lockjaw) Statlander appeared in what looked a bit like a remodified version of her gear that she wore in her clunky title match with Nyla years ago, backed by the Best Friends in grey tracksuits (could be the lighting I think that was supposed to be 'space tracksuits'). Baker has added white to her gear and still has the crowd fully behind her, while Jamie also has a new baseball-ish shirt.

Wristlocks are traded to start the match, each switching by rolls or cartwheels, Baker rolls backwards to try and apply the Lockjaw but Statlander wriggles out and motions to a headlock, Baker pulls the hair to get Kris to release the hold and tries a sunset flip, but has to backtrack when Statlander tries her new 'Spider Crab' submission move she submitted Reba to on Rampage. Statlander motions to boop but Britt takes the arm to try and set up another Lockjaw, Statlander rolls out but Baker now motions DMD - which prompts Statlander to grab the arm and use it to boop Baker with her own hand. Shoulder tackle proves the Alien's strength, so Baker uses kicks and a headlock to try and cut her down, she whips her to the turnbuckle but Statlander remains composed and elbows her away, then doing a headstand on the turnbuckle to Mule Kick Baker away, Baker takes advantage of a slow climb to hit Statlander with a Draping Spinning Fisherman Neckbreacker and kicks Statlander out the ring. Hayter and Rebel look to stalk Statlander but OC struts up sunglasses half down with the most 'bruh' stare he can muster, Baker behind him looking confused as hell.

The pause does not disrupt Baker's momentum, her kick from the apron is caught, but she stomps on the hair so Kris lands face first on the apron. Baker assumes control with stomps, a suplex, forearms to the back of the head and then an Octopus hold, Kris powers back with strikes, driving Baker into the corner, running elbow and a running knee gets Kris going but Baker hits back with a Sling Blade, kinda scuffed the stomp attempt but it didn't look like it was meant to happen as Statlander hits the Fisherman's Falcon Arrow for 2. Short-arm Lariat hits once but not the second, as Baker weaves and contorts into a backslide for 2, a planted DDT follows as Statlander pulls an RVD-esque sell but that also only gets 2.

Baker looks annoyed at the hardcam, superkick to Statlander who's on her knees as Reba provides her with the glove. Baker toys with Kris with kicks to the head, but Baker catches the big Superkick and cracks Baker with a kick of her own, sets up the Big Bang Theory but Baker rolls up for 2, Statlander tries to recover with a corner charge but Baker hits the turnbuckle flatliner. She climbs up top, but Statlander recovers, this one was a light botch: Kris looked to go for a delayed superplex but Baker was falling back to the turnbuckle, so in an attempt to gain more leverage she leaned back too far and followed with the Superplex, Kris looked to have hurt her head a little but nothing drastic. Undeterred, Statlander tries the Area 451, but Baker dodges and prepares the Lockjaw, Statlander struggles enough though for Baker to transition to a Crossface, so Statlander lifts her up, eventually scrambling to an Electric Chair position for the Facebuster, Scissor Kick only gets 2.

Baker this time rolls out the ring, and avoids Statlander's Pendulum Moonsault - hard landing for Kris there - which allows Baker to hit a Stomp on the outside, using the steel steps to get some extra height. Baker seeks a countout win as Statlander's floored, OC though in a desperate move uncharacteristically removes his shades and shouts 'Stat! Get Up!' to will her back into the ring, Baker tries Lockjaw but Statlander rolls it into a Spider Crab. It...still doesn't look too great honestly, the setup needs more like a Powerbomb and it'd probably work better is the opponent was either lifted a little (like Shida's Fullmetal Muffler) or their head was backwards like a Boston Crab, regardless Baker frees a leg to kick Statlander away. Scraping kicks to Statlander's face in the corner draws the ire of the ref, who Baker shoves away to deal more stomps and gain some heat. Pittsburgh Sunrise (it's the Panama Sunrise but she's from Pittsburgh) gets a huge pop, 1, 2, No! Baker then hits the Stomp, 1, 2, No! Lockjaw then gets applied and the ref stops the match.

Really good match from these two. It wasn't much a doubt over whether Baker would retain but this was definitely a redemption of sorts from Statlander. Her last title match with Nyla didn't hit the mark and it did harm her momentum and confidence, but she came out here strong and very well received against the super-over Baker, Statlander lost nothing in defeat and proved she can deliver on PPV and be a future champion.

Andrade El Idolo interview segment Andrade was asked whether he was behind PAC's 'travel issues' which has delayed their much-anticipated match to Rampage, and Andrade pleas innocence because he was ready for a fight on PPV, he undermines PAC for being a smaller name compared to him as well and offers to pay for PAC's flight for Rampage to ensure the match goes forward. Chavo suggests that PAC is scared of Andrade and mocks the Lucha Bros for refusing their services.

AEW World Tag Championship Steel Cage Match Lucha Bros [w/ Alex Abrahantes] def The Young Bucks [w/Brandon Cutler] (pinfall by Pentat on Nick via Assisted Package Piledriver) - TITLE CHANGE!! Announcement that the tag titles are next drew a big pop as the cage descended. Interesting to note as well that Cage Escape is not a win stipulation. A live performance for the Lucha Bros with masked and robed dancers, the singers were quite accurate to how they sound on track so that was good, Lucha Bros arrived in Aztec headwear and then hilariously varsity jackets which did not clash at all, Alex though with the red suit. Under the jackets, Penta sports Mexico colours while Fénix has flames on his tights. A round of boos follow the Bucks' entrance, wearing some red at the front badges at the back thing which is somehow less in-your-face as past gears, they are flanked by Gallows in an Elite Shirt, Anderson in a Bullet Club shirt, Brandon in the obscured back in a zebra print tracksuit and Don Callis in a pink suit. Also god Nick what is that beard? It's like he's bleached the Hogan tache blonde but kept the rest of the beard, kinda like Scott Steiner but worse. Don joined commentary as well.

The match starts with throwing hands, but strangely the Bucks try to climb out the cage to start, which commentary does note confusion over. Fénix dropkicks them into the steel with the assist from Penta, some liquid tag team dodging still goes Lucha Bros' way with simultaneous corner Enzugiris, Nick looks to get an advantage by knocking away Penta but Fénix dropkicks him back into the steel, kicking Matt in the jaw as he did a turnbuckle headstand after his charge missed too. Fénix gets Matt's hand for a corner arm drag, but Nick has the same idea with Penta, they meet on the same turnbuckle so Fénix instead Rana's Nick, Lucha Bros remain firmly in control with the lower ass dropkick (they called it something but I didn't catch the first word) and then stereo superkicks, two throws head first into the steel and then a tackle should've been enough, but the Bucks moved out of the way for the fourth attack causing the Lucha Bros to land into the steel themselves.

The Bucks assume some control now, hitting the brothers with the corner-to-corner Double Stomp and Backstabber, a dropkick sandwiches Penta's head between Matt's boot and the steel, as he slumps in the small gap between the cage and apron, and then Fénix gets the same with a nasty landing from the powerbomb into the cage wall - Penta hit with a PK to keep him down. The Bucks posture as they find their groove, Matt choking Fénix with a chain while Nick continues to wear down Penta. They try to powerbomb Fénix again into the cage, but Fénix hurricanrana's Matt into the steel instead, Nick eats 2 Sling Blades and then Matt a Backstabber from Penta for 2, broken by Nick. Fénix then defies logic again, doing his usual setup for the flipping arm drag but this time using the cage wall to kick off and arm drag Matt instead of Nick, he rolls away from Nick's senton who runs into Penta's tilt-a-whirl backbreaker, their stereo superkicks though are avoided and kick each other instead.

Cutters are traded next, Nick to Fénix, Penta to Nick, Matt's to Penta was slick, Fénix's handspring though is scouted as they try to throw him overhead, but he lands on his feet and lands the Rolling Double Cutter. Penta lets Fénix hit a Superkick on Matt before hitting the Pentagon Driver (which Excalibur still calls Made in Japan, currentish IWGP World Heavyweight Champion Shingo Takagi's move - ish depending on if you're asking Will Ospreay or not) but it's only a 2. Fénix whistles to his brother like a dog to set up the Fear Factor, but Nick pushes Fénix into the cage and Matt flips out, Penta now in the Sharpshooter as Fénix has a nasty landing on the apron from a German Suplex. Commentary reminds that there's no rope breaks, so Fénix has to kick through Nick to get a kick on Matt to break the hold, now the Bucks use the Draping Swanton but it's only 2, Fénix tries fighting back, but the Bucks hit a double Superkick when he springs up, causing him to bounce off the cage wall again.

With Fénix in between, the Bucks do what looked more like a Fear Factor variant of the Indytaker, Nick dropkicking Penta on the tombstone so he can land a senton on Fénix, both cover each brother but only get 2 a piece. Crowd tries to will the Lucha Bros alive as the Bucks set Fénix up for the BTE Trigger, but like on Dynamite Fénix rolls away so the Bucks' knees clash instead, he tries a Springboard Crossbody but the brothers Jackson catch him, looking to set up the Meltzer Driver, but Fénix wriggles away, pushing Matt into Nick who rebounds off the cage, Matt low blows both of the Lucha Bros to disrupt their momentum with Callis noting that it's all legal.

More Bang For Your Buck's pinfall is broken at 2 by a Penta superkick to Matt, annoyed the Bucks now focus on the masks of the Lucha Bros and then Lawn Darts Fénix into the cage wall. Motioning to Cutler, Brandon throws a bag over the cage into the ring (would've been funnier if he failed the first time), Matt takes his shoe off and I blood left my face with flashbacks of Candice LeRae - and lo it was just that: the Thumbtack Shoe - a $5000 variation. Penta's already bleeding as Matt stalks Fénix, but Penta stands between Matt and his brother, taking the blow for him (cameras missed the impact though which was a shame), focusing on Penta now, Nick prepares to throw him headfirst into Matt's Tack Shoe, but Penta just about holds his ground to stop...but not for the second time, his mask 'stuck' on the tacks as Matt digs the shoe further into Penta's head and then Nick drives in with a Helluva Kick.

Penta's pooling with blood now as the Bucks prepare a BTE Trigger, but Fénix is standing up now, so they hit him with a tacked Superkick and a Poison Rana, BTE Trigger on Penta, 1, 2, NO! Fénix just reached out in time to break the count. Both Lucha Brothers are bleeding as Alex is willing the crowd on, Matt takes the shoe off to use it like a belt shot, but Fénix kicks it away, the Bird of War has come to life as he reverses Nick's back body drop into a Hurricanrana onto Matt. Matt's put on the turnbuckle and Nick's kicked away, Fénix spots the Tack Shoe and clubs Nick in the head with it, then Matt, Blackfire Driver! 1, 2, NO! Lucha Bros look for the Fear Factor, so Nick again tries to throw Fénix into the cage wall, this time though Fénix latches onto the cage wall, so Nick decides to climb too. Matt and Penta yank their opponent down, staring each other down and hitting stereo Package Piledrivers. Now Matt and Penta collide, they're up on the turnbuckle where Penta realises something: they've gone through this whole match without a Canadian Destroyer, and it's time to rectify that.

The Super Destroyer is not pinned though, all four men wobbling as they chop each other (at this point Penta's practically unmasked, only blood obscures his face), then they trade superkicks, a second round though leaves Matt the quicker foot and still standing, but Fénix kips up and knocks him with a superkick too, then Nick does that to Fénix, then Penta does that to Nick, and Matt and Penta double clothesline. Fénix and Nick fight next, Nick does a flip escape but Fénix rocks him with his Tiger Feint Rebound Roundhouse into Penta, Fear Factor! 1, 2, Matt breaks it up! Fénix gestures another top rope move but Penta tells him to think higher: the top of the cage. Fénix ascends the Cage's top looking for a massive Fear Factor finish, but just when they prepare, Nick superkicks Penta, and now he climbs the cage to meet Fénix, and runs into a PK back down. Cage Crossbody on all 3, assisted Package Piledriver, Fénix claws Matt away, 1, 2, 3!

The cage lifts as Penta celebrates with his kids before reconvening with his brother and Alex to celebrate at the ramp.

Jesus what a match, brutal and athletic. How can you underrate either team when they keep delivering bangers like this? Even though I bet against them I'm not at all upset with the Lucha Bros winning, if anything I only expected it because it paired in with the Andrade storyline - who had promised under him they would win the titles - and because I was hoping for Santana & Ortiz to win the titles at Grand Slam, which could still happen but I was kinda liking them as babyfaces. But the Bucks' reign ends, which means that it's new destinations for both teams, perhaps this will be an opportune time for AEW to use the pedigree of the Bucks to elevate another tag team like they have with Jurassic Express, or maybe even feud with Santana & Ortiz or the fractured Dark Order.

A recap of the matches reminds us that we've had some great matches so far, as we steel ourselves for the Women's Casino Royale.

Women's Casino Battle Royale Joker: Ruby Soho wins the Battle Royale First is the clubs, which begins with Hikaru Shida for a nice big pop, then Skye Blue - the Chicago native late addition replacing the injured Julia Hart - who gets another big hometown welcome, Emi Sakurai with butler Lulu Pencil and the Bunny are next, but Abadon with new hair and new gear makes the striking impression. I am confused though, didn't Nyla say she would start the Battle Royale? I felt like that was a thing in the build.

No friends in the ring for Shida, former teacher Sakura goes right for her but gets hit with a powerslam, Abadon and Bunny stared down but focused on Skye Blue as Shida got hit with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. Shida sprawls too close to Bunny who shifts her focus on the former champion while Skye takes Sakura in a show of Ss. Both Skye and Bunny eat tilt-a-whirl backbreakers though as teacher and student don't see eye to eye, Abadon though sneaks up on them and scares both Joshi, aiming for the only women whose given her the L twice in her AEW career. Skye and Bunny take the centre stage as Skye tries to rally, only to be kneed by Bunny, Skye retaliates with a rope jump knee strike - dangerous territory as she poses unaware of Abadon, she survives the throw but not the boot, a row of boos as Chicago laments that one of their own was the first to be eliminated. Bunny then eliminates Abadon though to cheers, Abadon impressively landed on her feet, and hopefully she will not forget Allie's actions of As.

Allie takes her time before stomping Shida out of Emi's Romero Special, she tries to throw Emi but she resists and goes for Shida again, using a hair yank to throw Shida around. Double Underhook Backbreaker preludes the next suit: Diamonds. Anna Jay charges right for the Bunny for revenge as Kiera Hogan , KiLynn King, Diamante and Nyla come out. King tried to save Shida from Hogan, but real life girlfriend Diamante retaliates leading to them teaming up on the Dark standout. Nyla, Emi and Shida continue to duke it out, unable to take turns on who fights who as Anna and Bunny fight in the corner. Emi gets hit to the apron and seated by Diamante's failed chop block, allowing Shida to Baseball Slide both and eliminate her former mentor. Hogan is also eliminated by Nyla via an Enzugiri while she was sitting on the Turnbuckle, then sadly KiLynn King could not reignite past feuds with Nyla and is eliminated by her with a big clothesline. Shida hits the Willow's Bell on Diamante and locks eyes with Nyla, she tries to Rana but the Native Beast powers through and dumps the former champion in surprise fashion - fans booed it too, having a special handshake with Diamante to signify an alliance there.

Alliance did not last long as they determined to leave Anna and Allie to their assault of As, both Diamante and Allie have the advantage on opposite corners when Hearts are called. Thunder Rosa charges at lightning speed at Nyla, who calls a Time Out and gets a dropkick instead, Penelope Ford puts the disadvantage on Anna while Riho gets a nice pop from the crowd, Jamie Hayter comes in next and then Big Swole just as Riho hits Allie and Ford with a 619. Hayter zones in on the smaller opponent in Riho while Swole eyes her rival Diamante, Commentary incorrectly say Riho was eliminated by Hayter, even though she kicked the Joshi under the ropes - maybe something happened? - Swole eliminates Diamante with a diving headbutt but is thrown out by Hayter, allowing Diamante and Swole to continue brawling. Hayter then joins Nyla in fighting Rosa, but she fights back with charging dropkicks.

Spades are last and like a storm Tay Conti rushes to save her friend, hitting a Tay-KO on Allie as Red Velvet is called, spearing Hayter as Leyla Hirsch comes in, seeking a target to throw and finding Penelope. Jade Cargill's the penultimate name called as Leyla German's Nyla but runs into a strike by Jade, Rebel is the final Spade to assist Jamie on attacking Velvet. Penelope almost eliminates Conti by the turnbuckle, but Conti uses her core strength to sit back up, Rebel's feat of doing the splits in the middle of the ropes does not save her though, as she's prime target for Velvet's dropkick. Bunny follows, she dragged Anna with her to the apron but her kick was blocked, Anna's kick landed, but then Penelope's landed on Anna. Tay cannot boot Penelope over the ropes but the Leyla is eliminated by being Gorilla Pressed by Jade onto Anna and Bunny. Conti is whiplashed mid-rope by Ford, Velvet and Hayter in one corner, Jade and Nyla zoning on Rosa in the other, the countdown for the joker cannot be heard though because Chicago knows which woman they want to come out.

And they get it.

Ruby Soho with 'Destination AEW' on the back of her jacket, she comes for Jade first, staggering her with kicks, Nyla attacks next, staggering her with a headbutt, but Rosa uses Soho as a platform to Rana Nyla, both women eye up Cargill but Jade fights through, a nice pumphandle suplex from her on Soho preludes Conti doing her Three Amigas Judo throws, Ford lands on her feet for the third though as Cargill dumps Hayter out so she can face her first rival alone. Conti's attacks keep being countered by Ford, and she eats a hook kick to keep her floored, at this time Jade dumps Velvet out, but she posed too much and Nyla lobs her out, Rose herself surviving a double assault from Soho and Rosa as Conti uses a headscissors to eliminate Ford - only for herself to be blindsided on the apron by Nyla.

It comes down to Three; Nyla, Rosa and Soho. Soho and Rosa are fended off by Nyla, Tree Slam on Soho, Samoan Drop on Rosa, Nyla shifts attention to Soho and puts her in the Tree of Woe, but Rosa uses this to throw Nyla over, she holds on but cannot avoid the Shotgun Dropkick. Now it's Soho and Rosa, both women super over with the crowd as they trade chops, both are exchanging the same counters, so Rosa tries the Fire Thunder Driver, Soho escapes and tries her old Riott Kick, Rosa tries to reverse it but Soho turns it into a whip to get Rosa onto the apron. Rosa though goes for the slow DDT, but Soho holds onto the ropes in Skin the Cat fashion, leaving her stomach prone for Rosa to stomp. Soho manages to stumble Rosa, dodges a kick and staggers Rosa with a knee, Rosa's legs now dangerously close to ground, Soho tries a lift, then a German but Rosa then tries a DVD, Soho escapes, throws Rosa in the ring post, Gamagiri hits Rosa clean and eliminates her.

Oh JR, had to pull a WWE Dynamite and call her Ruby Riott XD

I...liked it? But it's not all I wanted from this Battle Royale. I hoped this'd be a platform to properly expand the Women's Division and set up multiple long-term feuds, instead we mainly retread on old feuds, but we also unceremoniously dumped out fan favourites like Shida, Riho and Skye Blue for little less than nothing, we also had the chance to better showcase Kiera Hogan, KiLynn King, Abadon and Jamie Hayter but had them eliminated by people with no real storyline connection or implication. I do hope Riho's okay because that elimination was wonky and must've been done due to an injury. I also didn't like how half of the eliminations is just 'I'm gonna pose in this obviously dangerous position I hope nobody blindsides me', we need to find new tricks.

The final two though was some good wrestling, happy for Ruby and she'll hopefully make a good fit for AEW

It's 10:30 and I have 4 matches still...yeep

If Chris Jericho Loses, he Retires Chris Jericho def. MJF (Submission via Walls of Jericho) A Y2J countdown gets the crowd going, but the tron doesn't erupt in Judas, instead it says 'Jericho's Last Match' and MJF's music hits. HEEL

That's all you can say until he comes out in kingly robes, without Wardlow surprisingly, getting in the face of fans and sporting new gear, no more plaits this time.

No Entrance Music for Jericho, instead there's Fozzy's guitarist playing the riff to will Chicago to sing along. Jericho in a biker jacket and his baseball bat Floyd as MJF stares daggers at him. An ad for Jericho's book preludes the match too.

Before locking up MJF adds heat by ripping up signs. A stalemate of sorts begin with traded shoulder tackles and hip tosses, Jericho's experience seems to be winning out when he prepares the walls, but MJF turns it into a cradle for 2. MJF and Jericho leave the ring, the veteran getting the advantage and tossing MJF into barricades, into the crowd they go as Jericho poses with a sign, but then back to ringside where Jericho dumps one of those queue rope holder things (sue me I don't know every word) right on MJF. Back in the ring MJF is dumped out again by a triangle dropkick, but he baits the baseball slide by trapping Jericho in the apron, he regains advantage by wrenching on the shoulder that was injured, taunting the crowd in between his attacks. Suplex gets 2 so he bites the fingers, second Suplex is countered allowing Jericho to chop, Bulldog and Backbreaker for 2, MJF goes back for the arm, stomps and hammerlock throws for 2, now MJF goes for chops, strutting like Flair and then gyrating, Jericho throws him over but MJF just counters with a Heatseeker on the apron.

Count Out is being threatened but Jericho gets in enough at 9, avoiding MJF's stomp, MJF gets a little too cocky and misses the Asai Moonsault - landed on his feet though - and then receives a Twisting Powerbomb on the apron. Back in the ring it's back to fisticuffs, MJF does an eye rake but misses the haymaker and gets hit in the back, Jericho looks for a top rope attack but lands into a one-legged Codebreaker for 2. The back attack from early delays MJF from lifting Jericho, allowing the Demo God the chance to try the Walls, MJF kicks him away but runs into a Shoulder Block, then a Lionsault - just to prove he can - but it's only 2. MJF is writhing as Jericho clubs him in the corner, 10 strikes looks to soften MJF for a Super Rana but he counters it into a Sit-Out Powerbomb, MJF still sells the back and the time allows Jericho to kick out at 2. He bites at Jericho next, sets him up for a Superplex but is pushed away, Flying Codebreaker only gets 2 for Jericho.

Out comes Wardlow, but Hager intercepts and brawls, the distraction is enough though for MJF to use Floyd the Bat to hit Jericho, MJF shouts Goodbye to Jericho and hits his own Judas Effect: 1, 2, 3? The bell rings but Jericho's foot is on the ropes, it takes a secondary ref to inform Aubrey and the Announcer so the match can resume. MJF is angry, he shoves Aubrey but she shoves back, allowing Jericho to roll up MJF for the 2 (nice call to when he technically won the world title from Triple H), MJF then cinches the Salt of the Earth, Jericho fights it into a rollup, just a 2, he scraps and claws at MJF and finally gets in the Walls of Jericho, MJF tries to crawl to the ropes but he's dragged to the middle and taps. The Inner Circle come to congratulate Jericho after.

So, they were never gonna retire Jericho like this, not with 4 losses and not when there's still mileage in fans singing Judas. Frankly, the feud went on too long, the Labors were decent but peaked at Nick Gage (sorry Juice and Wardlow) and it made no sense that MJF was a fifth labor because the labors were meant to be completed SO Jericho could face MJF. I guess it's 'just desserts' for the heel but now where does AEW's best heel go from here? He needs a solid win and so does his faction.

CM Punk def. Darby Allin (Pinfall via GTS) Next would be the one everyone was looking forward to, a Century Gothic Quote starts Darby's entrance as he hangs a body bag with 'Best in the World' from a Helicopter then jumps off of said helicopter. Sting gives Darby a fistbump and hug before letting him skate alone to the ring, a strong pop considering who he is facing.

And who he is facing is chanted at full volume as Cult of Personality is sang along louder than they sang Judas. Punk in the trousers gets to his knees, checks his watch and tells the world what they wanna know: It's Clobberin' Time.

Punk looks in great shape for the match as both opponents stare each other down, Punk even taking a seat to stare at him, both stand at the same time, like two predators ready for war. The bell rings to cheers as they lock up, Darby shifts his weight to roll Punk away, a surprised 'well okay then' smirks from Punk as Darby wins the first exchange. Darby knows to be hesitant with locking up, and his hesitation is well found as Punk uses his strength to shoulder barge Darby away. The third lock is controlled by Darby's hammerlock, every attempt to roll away doesn't deter Darby until he releases it for a roll up, not even 1 though as Punk elbows him down. Scoop Slam doesn't get 1 for Punk so he tries a headlock, Darby surprises Punk by using his speed to tackle him down, but on the second time he almost sets himself up for GTS, which Darby is quick and wise to stay well away from.

Leaving the ring, Darby takes a moment to get his head straight, he tries a hip toss but Punk is too strong, he manages the springboard hip toss though and rams his body into Punk's in the corner. He tries a hammer throw but it's countered and Darby does that nasty nasty spot where he goes through the turnbuckle and ricochets off the ring post. Punk rolls him in for just a 2, then focuses on the back with a stretch, when he reaches the ropes he stomps Darby and hits a backdrop but it's only good for 2, he stretches Darby again and counters his fight back with a Kitchen Sink and an Abdominal Stretch, then again with a Tilt-a-Whirl Backbreaker and a chinlock before returning to the Abdominal Stretch. Darby soon regains momentum though, escaping the stretch long enough to hit his over-the-top stunner, Slaps from Darby keep Punk frazzled as he hits a springboard Coffin Splash and a roll up for 2, Punk tries GTS but Darby Sunset Rolls for 2 again, Darby's strike combo and then a Code Red for 2. Darby seeks the Coffin Drop, but Punk cuts him off and prepares for an Avalanche Back Drop, only for Darby to cleverly shift it into a Crossbody Splash for 2. Darby goes for a Jacknife Pin but Punk uses his core to crab up, twisting for a Backslide, he can't get all the way but he lifts him for GTS, hits it! But Darby's body sprawls out of the ring.

Darby answers the count at 9 to Punk's relief, before using his strength to keep Darby jaded, classic knee strike to the corner followed by a short-arm clothesline. He gestures for GTS, but Darby is limp, he takes time to lift Darby which gives him the time to elbow Punk's jaw, hammering it until Punk is on his knees. Punk rolls out the ring but gets hit with the Darby-patented Suicide Dive, then a Swanton from the top turnbuckle to the outside. He throws Punk in the ring and prepares to Coffin Drop, but not before drawing heat by gesturing GTS himself, he makes the jump but Punk sits up just in time! He soaks up his cleverness a little too much though because his confident shuffle to pin Darby is reversed into a pin by Darby for 2, so Punk holds on mid-kick out to lift him up for GTS, he gets the throw but Darby blocks the knee, Last Supper! 1, 2, No!

Leg Lariat floors Darby, but Darby gets his boots up in the corner, he climbs on Punk looking for a Poison Rana, but Punk shifts him and that's the GTS! 1, 2, 3!

Punk gestures 7 to the cameras to note that he's back after 7 years, Sting then comes out and shakes Punk's hand before both men tend to Darby. Darby staggers away to get up on his own and shakes Punk's hand too as Darby and Sting leave the ring for Punk to soak in. Punk gleefully takes a lap before joyfully leaving, letting the fans tell him which tunnel he's supposed to leave through.

It won't get 5 stars but this was still great fun to see, it was a moment more than it was a match, and it's good to see that Punk barely misses a step. Darby still looks strong too and we open much more new opportunities with Punk on the roster. The finish was a bit quick for me, but it was the right finish: it's Bret in Canada, you don't have Punk lose in Chicago...unless you want a riot that is.

Full Gear was promoted for November before the piss break.

Paul Wight def. QT Marshall [w/ Aaron Solo & Nick Comoroto] (Pinfall via Chokeslam) The Factory came out first, before Wight returned in a more clothed version of his usual singlet. Solo was thrown at Wight and dumped out the ring, Comoroto - not used to facing someone this bigger and this heavier than him - would also be dragged out the ring too.

QT's opening blows are nothing to Wight, who effectively destroys Marshall with chops between punches and standing on him. QT does get some momentum by using dropkicks, dropping Wight to his knees with a dropkick to the hip, his strikes are shoved off by Wight but a Shotgun Dropkick does floor the big man - enough for a 1 count at least which dumps QT out of the ring. QT tries the Diamond Cutter but it's shrugged off, Shoulder Block and a Back Body Drop keeps him down as Wight lifts Solo into the ring to chop him, Comoroto fares a little better after eating one Wight's punches, but is felled to a pounce, giving Marshall time to climb to the turnbuckle and land into a Chokeslam for 3.

At least it was over quickly, maybe could've been quicker. I dunno since the Cody feud demolished them the Factory are nobodies, which is a shame because Comoroto and Ogogo have great potential, they're just in the wrong spot. This wasn't a PPV match either, this was better a segment or a Buy-In 'match' and the Gunn Club turn had no influence on this in the end either, so meh.

Dynamite/Rampage Promo

Dynamite is promoted for next Wednesday and it's Moxley vs Suzuki booked! Mox then cuts a promo on Suzuki before the rest of the card is shown; Ruby Soho will have a segment to address her win and collision course with Baker, and Dustin vs Black as previously announced on Rampage.

Black cuts a promo too, inviting Dustin to get angry because it makes him prone to mistake, taunting Dustin with his past victories in the Codyverse so to keep him angry.

We also promoted PAC/Andrade on Rampage but it was just saying the match is on Friday.

AEW World Championship Kenny Omega (c) [w/Don Callis] def. Christian Cage (Pinfall via Avalanche One Winged Angel)

Christian comes out first with the Impact World Title around his waist, but Kenny goes more showy with Devil's Sky and tights reminiscent of his New Japan days and blue in his hair. When his name was called he danged the world title in front of Christian as commentary note how he's on the verge of surpassing Moxley's world title reign in days.

Omega tries a V-Trigger before the bell, but Christian dodges it and prepares a Killswitch that Omega escapes, wagging his finger and starting a shoving contest. Omega hits a rana but Christian regains control on the outside, throwing Omega in the barricade and then a jumping splash from the top turnbuckle. Omega is next to shift momentum though by reversing an Irish Whip that throws Christian up and over the steel steps, using Callis as distraction he pulls out a table to stomp onto Christian, cracking the furniture as Omega mockingly channels Urkel's 'Did I do that?'.

Callis sets up another table with Kenny, but the suplex is countered by Christian who suplexes Omega away from the table. Back in the ring Omega's dropkick is scouted as he lands back first on the floor, but he rakes Christian's eyes before he can capitalize and lands a modified sling blade for 2. Raking facelocks and chops are among the actions Kenny does to try and cut Christian's breathing, a Back drop draws Cage to the corner where he tries to use his feet to hide openings for Kenny, he gets to his feet and climbs to the turnbuckle, but Kenny just shoves him off back outside the ring.

Humorously, Kenny's initial attempt to Moonsault off the barricade leads him to slip on his ass, but the second one hits the mark and splashes Christian on the outside, it's only good for 2 though. Christian tries to fight through Kenny's assault, but he's thrown into the turnbuckle then hit with an Ushigoroshi for 2. Kenny looks to go up top but Christian cuts him off, Super Rana by Cage is clean but no space for a pin, instead they trade blows, Kenny throwing his weight to get the upper hand, he misses the corner elbow which allows Christian to start his 10 strikes, but at 4 Kenny sets up the OWA, so Christian wriggles out, pushes him back in the Turnbuckle and starts again. Christian's getting some speed on Omega, and almost has him in a Cloverleaf, so Kenny after trying to eye rake and pull hair loosens a leg and kicks him away, he sets up the You Can't Escape but Christian reverses the run up into a reverse DDT for 2.

Cage sizes Kenny up for a spear, but he runs into a Knee, Christian escapes the Tiger Driver and lands a Swinging DDT to set up the Killswitch, Kenny escapes and uses a Spinning Leg Lariat to send Christian in the corner; V-Trigger, Snap Dragon Suplex, Another Snap Dragon, he gestures the gun but Christian gives him the finger, so he gives Christian a third Snap Dragon and a V Trigger. Both men edge closer to Chekov's table, Kenny looking to German Christian onto, Christian holds onto the ropes so he tries a Snap Dragon, but Christian reverses into a Killswitch setup, which Kenny avoids by pushing Cage into the ring post, he looks for the OWA but Christian escapes by returning to the ring and a reverse neckbreacker, onto the apron and Christian spears Kenny into the table with venom.

Spear to the back and front gives Christian the 2 count, so he goes up top, Frog Splash falls into Kenny's knees but Christian's damage to Kenny's back prevents him from performing the Dr Wagner Bomb. 2 V Triggers land, Christian blocks the third to try and fight back, but Kenny hits another one, then a Rain Trigger! Calling back a lot of New Japan now. Kenny goes for the Tiger Driver but Christian escapes, taking Kenny down for a Cloverleaf - sensing danger, Callis motions to the ramp, and the Good Brothers comes down. As Callis distracts the ref, Christian fends off Anderson, but Gallow has him held against the rope for Kenny to attack, V Trigger obviously hits Gallows instead and Christian tries the Killswitch, Kenny escapes, Omega tries the OWA, Christian escapes, Killswitch attempts, Killswitch lands! 1, 2, No! That was a close 2 as well, very good timing.

As Christian sets Kenny on the turnbuckle Callis tries to sneak behind him, being chased away when spotted. Christian looks to set up an Avalanche Killswitch but Kenny rakes the eyes, sets up for OWA, and lands it, nobody kicks out and that's 3.

The Bucks come out wrapped up to celebrate with the Elite and beat down Christian more, Jurassic Express try to help but the numbers are too grand. Chants of Yes! come from the crowd but Kenny grabs a mic, telling them that nobody is on his level. Apt choice of words though; the only people who can beat him are either not here, already retired or already dead

The lights go out, and it's a Ghost! Britt Baker's Boyfriend! Adam Cole BayBay comes to the ring, ready to argue with Kenny about his case of being killed off of BTE, but then he shifts his focus and superkicks Jungle Boy!

Embracing the Bucks and getting a triple kiss, Kenny mocks the crowd for thinking that Cole, their good friend, would be their enemy. Cole then talks about how the Elite is now the biggest faction in the business and that nobody is going to stop them. Kenny happily says it's a happy ending and prepares his goodbye and good night, but before that even happens, another music hits.

Oh Yes. Yes. Yes.

It's Bryan Danielson, backing the faces, as they fend off the Elite, Danielson hits the Buisaku Knee on Nick before celebrating with Christian and Jurassic Express while Cole - thunder stolen - looks angrily on.

Well it's midnight and that's how you end a PPV. Kenny vs Christian was a decent enough match all things considered, it's hard to fill the boots of Kenny vs Hangman like we wanted, but we can be patient, we have brand new toys to play with after all. Some of the shenaniganry was a bit gimmicky especially since it was a little too similar to Jericho vs MJF, but we never really bought Christian beating Kenny here so it doesn't matter as much.

Conclusion Somehow I didn't feel as enthralled as I did for Double or Nothing, but I still felt like this was great. I think it bodes down to the whole 'higher highs but lower lows' argument; Wight/QT shouldn't have been there, the Women's Casino Royale could've been booked better for most of the women and MJF/Jericho needed a bit more oomph. On the other hand, can you really fault a PPV that just gave us debuts for Minoru Suzuki, Ruby Soho (oh right, she was the one I was spoiled on btw), Adam Cole BayBay and Bryan Danielson on the same night CM Punk, Darby Allin, Christian Cage, Kenny Omega, the Lucha Bros, the Young Bucks, MJF, Jericho, Miro, Eddie Kingston and Jon Moxley all competed in?

This may indeed be worth the 3-4 hours sleep I bet I'll get now, but with a backlog as long as my arm I need to sleep

Pro Wrestling is Great.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Spooky prompt with Norman x Sammy

Summary: After getting accidentally locked in the studio after-hours, Norman and Sammy feel less alone than they should of...

Closing prompt requests for now! Got something else I want to focus on for a while that I'm hoping you lot may enjoy.

---

[[MORE]]

It was a bit of an inevitability that one day this scenario came to play, being locked in for the night after Wally mistakingly assumed all personal had vacated the premises. What was unexpected was that it happened to two people on the very same night...

The people in question however? What with Sammy's new habit of isolating himself in a secret and tightly locked corner he'd claimed for himself, and Norman's proficiency in getting inside nooks and crannies no one else thought a nearly 7 foot tall man could fit? Definitely the sort to escape the janitor's notice and end up in this conundrum... Especially considering they'd clocked out many hours prior to Wally cleaning up and setting off for the night. If anything, they deserved it for being exceptionally sneaky.

"Fantastic..." The blond composer groaned as he watched the much taller projectionist give up on trying to fiddle with the lock. Cheapskate as Joey was, Mr. Drew seemed to at least invest in some very tight security. Likely a courtesy of GENT when the studio's partnership with the company arose. "Just what I needed, to be kept from my bed another night because Franks decided to go home early."

"N'aw. I reckon it ain't that early... When I was comin' upstairs the clock read 'bout 2:50..." He tapped his chin in thought and snapped the pin of his cravat back into place, no longer needing it to act as a makeshift lockpick. "Must be witchin' hour just 'bout now. Takes these old bones o' mine a while to get up here all quick-like..."

"3AM? Already?!" Sammy worried his lower lip as he realized how sidetracked he'd become. He should get a clock into his sanctuary at some point to avoid something like this in the near future. "Abigail is going to kill me... She must have waited all night..."

"Yous could always just call the landline an' say yous as busy as a one-legged cat in a sandbox." Norman offered with a smile that was bordering on the mischievous "In kinder words no doubt."

"She'd spit fire over the phone if I woke her up at 3 in the morning." He grimaced as he rejected such an idea. "The one thing she inherited from her mother is the capacity to transform into a fire-spitting drake if you wake her up at an ungodly hour..."

At such a notion Norman couldn't help grin and guffaw at the sight of Samuel Lawrence in all his peacock-like might, cowering away from a positively irate 18 year old girl with his tail between his shaking legs.

"Well, slap my head and call me silly! Yous still got your funny bone somewhere in that pile of highfalutin' grouchiness." The Louisianan's smile only grew as Sammy glares up at him. "Hey now, don't yous go lookin' so sour. It's good that yous is still yourself... Even after..."

"I'd rather not talk about that, thank you very much!" The musician knew exactly what Norman was referring to and he cut the topic short immediately. "Lets focus on the fact we're both trapped for the night. I don't know about you but I, for one, am starving and exhausted."

The projectionist nodded, conceding to the fact they should head to the breakroom and see if anyone had forgotten their packed lunch, or if maybe Lottie had left some non-perishables in the cabinets next to the stove. Like canned beans or maybe even canned fruit.

"I'm so hungry my belly thinks my throat's been cut... Tell yous what, if we gots the ingredients I could make us my Nanna's go to dish for when we was lil' tots growin' up." An easy enough meal that was effortless to make, and gave him enough time to see if Grant still had those blankets in his office while his companion ate

"And what's that?" Sammy asked, eyebrow raising.

"A peanut butter and jelly sandwich." Norman winked, which earned him a groan. "N'aw don't you go dissin' my poor Nanna's cookin' she was a skilled lady, but we was several youngins! And we was growin' bigger every day."

"I'll say... You're as large as a breeding bull." With better taste in clothes, albeit often overdressed for the occasion.

"You askin' for a ride, cowboy?" The mischief returned to Norman's grin as he noted Sammy's unusual fondness for boots rather than dress shoes. A more practical choice in his humble opinion.

"Buy me dinner, you pig." The blond dismissed, albeit unable to keep a smile off his face. "A man of my caliber deserves proper servicing, wouldn't you agree?"

Before the conversation could get any bit lewder, a noise downstairs halted their banter altogether. The two instinctively turned their heads towards the stairs, twin expressions of concern as they assessed what they had both just heard. It had sounded like clattering, down in Dr. Hackenbush's tiny little infermary.

"You hear that?" An unnecessary question, as Sammy knew for a fact Norman had. Still it felt better to acknowledge it aloud.

"Somethin' yes... Probably them lousy paper-thin pipes again... I don't know where Mr. Connor is gettin' the metal for 'em but I have half a mind t' tell him off for gettin' such shoddy materials." He looked unnerved more so than curious. Maybe a little irritable as the noisy pipework distracted him just as much as it did Sammy.

"You'd think they were made of flimsy tin...Either way let's uh, let's go eat down in the breakroom." The blond shook his head and began making his way to the stairs. If there was anything in Hackenbush's workspace it's not like it could get to them. The damn thing had been locked for a while, until the Doctor's services were needed. Something about preventing people from stealing his sedatives or whatever.

He was probably worked up over a raccoon either way. The dang things kept getting in through the ventilation. Just the other day Wally had fought one over a donut of all things...And lost.

"Yeah..." The towering projectionist followed, quieter now. Pensive. "Might as well fill our bellies an' get some shut-eye... Tomorrow if we is lucky, Drew might let us go home an' shower."

"Maybe..." Sammy nodded. As reasonable as it was that a raccoon was the likely cause of the strange noise, he couldn't help feel like it might be something more sinister. He was sure Norman felt the same too, as neither were strangers to Joey's... Less than savoury dealings with criminals and charlatans. But the thoughts of a bit of sleep and a shower in the morning were much more interesting and inviting thoughts than to worry about his paranoia. "Maybe not."

"We'll see, now won't we?"

"Guess we will."

That night the pipes sounded louder somehow. It felt like they were calling to them even... Whether or not Norman heard the calls was debatable, as the man was harder to read than a Russian dictionary, but Sammy swore up and down that he could hear his name in the flow... It spooked him terribly.

Never again, he thought, would he let himself sleep over-night in this damnable studio. He already wasted enough time in there after all. Living in it was nowhere in his future. Even if it meant he could spend an entire night or two shooting the breeze with a man that both infuriated him and made his heart go soft.

[turnaboutimagines]

OHHH HATTIE I HAVE AN IDEA HOw do u think gumshoe or phoenix would react to a shorter s/o grabbing them down by their tie for a kiss?? like the first time vs the 50th time?? suggestive or not, ur choice, but I just think it's a marvelous cliche that I hardly ever see discussed in this fandom -❤

Added Miles by another anon’s request (and i was also going to add him as a bonus bc... how could I not?) and Franziska because I love her and really wanted to add her!  Hope you enjoy it, pal!  I still can’t believe I got a request for this trope in particular, but I’m very happy, haha.  Tried to keep them nice and varied, so some are a bit longer than others (gdi Miles).  ;;Features a Shorter!Reader.  These are mildly suggestive as well, so if that’s not your cup of tea then... maybe skip over this one for the time being.  Please be gentle to your tols.  😔

Dick Gumshoe.

The tension between you has been different lately and it's gotten to a point where you can’t ignore it anymore.  You want him, more than you’ve wanted anything before.  Direct action is required with him, you know words alone aren’t enough to get him.  And so, you grab a hold of his tie and pull his face down to your own, lips connecting in a passionate kiss that makes your intentions crystal clear.

He’s caught off guard and while your eyes are shut, you can imagine the wide-eyed look on his face as he goes frigid.  His mind catches up within a moment and he eagerly melts into the kiss, a low groan escaping his throat.  His hands hover a moment before settling on your waist, with a nervousness that reminds you of your first kiss.  

It’s hard to not smile into it as you gently nip at his bottom lip, glad that he seems just as eager as you do.

- (For the 50th time) -After two weeks of barely seeing each other, you can’t help but pull him down by the tie as soon as he walks through the door.  He doesn’t miss a beat as he presses you up against the nearest wall and practically grins into the kiss, hands already wandering your body with practiced ease.

It’s nice to be wanted.

Phoenix Wright.

This man is going to be the death of you.  Always ending up in harm’s way, either through his terrible luck or self-sacrificial nature.  It’s after one of these close calls that it happens for the first time.  Tears are blurring your vision as you stand in front of him, but the words you want to yell at him die in your throat.  You’re worried and relieved and just... absolutely overwhelmed.  You really just want him close more than anything else.

Right when he opens his mouth to say something, you grab onto his red tie and pull him down toward you—connecting your lips in a kiss that’s equal parts desperation and passion.  You need him right then, not words.

There’s a slight tremble to the fingers he uses to cup the side of your face, gently deepening the kiss without hesitation.  Yet his cheeks feel warm under your hands as you slide your hands up to hold the sides of his face.  Despite the urgency of your need, you can’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at taking him off guard.

- (For the 50th time)-He flashes you a cheeky grin, knowing full well that his teasing is getting to you.  You put on your best poker face to try and catch him off guard, pulling.  Yet his hands find your hips as he eagerly returns the kiss, clearly having seen it coming from a mile away... or perhaps this is what he wanted all along.

Yes, this man is definitely going to be the death of you.

Miles Edgeworth.

Some spontaneity couldn’t hurt, could it?  But it’s hard to be spontaneous and surprise him with a kiss when his face is out of your easy reach.  However, his cravat is right there, always tempting you.  One day, you finally give in and take hold of it, smiling up at him with a deceptive innocence.

His eyes narrow at you, “What are—”

Your lips cut off his question as you allow your hands to release his cravat and move to his broad shoulders.  It feels as if he’s turned to stone under your touch, frozen in place.  And his face feels like it’s on fire against your own.

You’re about to pull away when his lips finally begin to move against your own and his hands grasp you by the hips, quickly seizing control as he kisses you with a singular passionate intent.  Yet he pulls away right as it’s getting truly intense.

“Ngh, m-my cravat is not some sort of leash for you to yank on,” he grumbles against your lips, eyes not quite meeting your own.

You open your mouth to deliver a witty retort, but he silences you with another kiss, this one more passionate than the last.

- (For the 50th time) -There’s a heavy, resigned exhale through his nose as he feels the familiar sensation of you yanking on his poor cravat.  However, his lips meld against your own without complaint, hands already wandering to where he knows you like them best.  Your mind feels hazy by the time he pulls away for air, cheeks pleasantly flushed as he smiles down at you.

“Perhaps we should get you a ladder...?”

"Or perhaps you should just kiss me again?”

“...Gladly.”

It’s certainly a better use for his cravat than a handkerchief, that’s for sure.

Franziska von Karma.

She can truly be so ridiculous sometimes, but that’s part of her charm.  She’s ranting about her most recent loss in court at the hands of Phoenix Wright, pacing like a caged animal as she does so.  You can’t help but admire the way her gloved hands flex as she pulls her whip taut... and a rather good way to blow off steam suddenly comes to mind.

When you get up and suddenly cut off her path, she stops dead in her tracks, a look of confusion written across her face.  Your hands are on her bow before she can process what’s going on and then your lips are on hers—passionate and undeniably needy.

She lets out a small note of surprise at the contact, accompanied by a pleased shiver down her spine, but is quickly followed by a pleased moan as she relaxes into it—grateful for the distraction.  The whip falls to the floor, forgotten, as she pulls you closer for a bruising kiss as her lips claim your own.

- (For the 50th time) -She smirks into the kiss this time, her leather clad hands coming up to force your hands to release her bow.  She moves them above your head, effectively pinning you against the wall perfectly, as if it was second nature to her.  Her teeth graze against your bottom lip, impatiently asking for entrance as you moan into the kiss.

A good way to blow off steam, indeed.

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

the fact that u still have that fic about maya in my novel universe still has me ready to scream every time ilu jfklds

I know how to express my excitement for it in exactly one way but I’m pretty dang good at it. Maybe not fast, but still.

I think I’ve already sent/posted this segment but I still love it and hope you like it.

Maya wheezed hard and Alaric jumped at the sound.

“Too hard? Do I need to stop?” 

She waved a hand dismissively and he tried not to be distracted by the glittering silver of her prosthetic or the soft whirring of the machinery inside bringing it to life. The movement was still undeniably stiff, likely because she’d put off switching between her usual and the fancy one until the last minute. Best case scenario, she’d be spending the rest of the night working through a stubborn sensation of pins and needles from the elbow on down. Worst case scenario… well, if there was anything Maya Acerbi was good at, it was putting on a brave face.

“I’m fine, big guy. Just warn me before you tighten it down again. We’re almost done.” Maya replied and straightened her shoulders. “And yes, I’m sure. We need to look the part and if I want that damn skirt to lay right, I need this corset cinched down just a little further.” Alaric snapped his mouth shut against the protest that she had preempted and took the laces back into one hand, bracing the other against the small of her back.

“Alright, exhale on three. One, two,” the soft sound of her breath sighing out of her mingled with that of fabric hissing against itself as he gave one last pull. “There?” Maya nodded and he tied the laces off. “I see why you prefer men’s fashion. Can you even breathe in that?” To his surprise, she scoffed and shot him a crooked smile.

“Yeah? Hell, it’s a lot better than putting the arm on. The corset’s more comfortable than it looks, it was just tricky to put on by myself even when I was still…” she trailed off and gestured with the prosthetic to make her point. She added in an undertone possibly not meant for him to actually hear, “shame too, thing does wonders for my figure.” 

“Your figure is fine.” He said without thinking. And it was, baffling human fashion trends be damned; small as she was, she was broad, too, and her plush softness served to hide the sturdy strength underneath. In the months they’d known each other, she’d proven that strength time and again to be stubborn and gentle and unyielding as the sea itself. He caught her eye in the mirror while he tried to wrestle his cravat into compliance and glowered at the knowing smirk she’d leveled at him. “What.” Again he found himself chasing off the paranoid notion that maybe she could read his thoughts.

“Nothing.” Her gratingly singsong tone as she tied her skirts in place said that it absolutely was something, but he had bigger things to worry about. Like how humans and their thrice-damned formalwear were determined to be the bane of his existence. “You’re right about one thing though, I really do prefer men’s fashion. Easier to put on one-handed and doesn’t take half an hour to get ready. That said, this does come with its perks.” She tugged at the lip of one of the very deep pockets that would be stashing Plans B through E in case the auction tonight went sideways. “Pass me the backup plans?” He complied after taking a moment to untie his damnable cravat again, equal parts grateful for and frustrated with the distraction. Maya would pretend to be a rich weapons dealer and be carrying a wide assortment of tools under her skirts, all hidden in padded pockets to disguise the shape and sound of them as she walked. Alaric would be her arm candy at a black market party for the rich and scummy so she wouldn’t be alone if they had to implement less subtle means of rescue. They each had their part to play.

He hovered for a moment after he handed her each tool, but she seemed to have things handled from there, sliding a small club, a crowbar, several knives, a lockpicking kit, a pair of bolt cutters, and a gun into their designated pockets with practiced ease before settling the bustle into place over them. It was laughable, the way she delicately adjusted the ruffles and lace over their arsenal so that no one would be the wiser. If he didn’t know her and hadn’t just watched her put away a small armory, Alaric himself wouldn’t have suspected a damn thing. However, he did know her, which meant that he was half certain she’d squirrel away a ballista somewhere under all that fabric if he turned his back for too long. She solved that particular problem by gesturing to him again.

“My bodice, please? There, on the back of the chair.” Maya asked. “I’ll need your help again.” Alaric frowned at the garment in his hands. 

“I just did this, why do you need another one?” Regardless of his confusion, he passed it to her and watched her slip the sunset-pink fabric over her head.

“This one’s a bodice, the other’s a corset. One’s underwear, the other’s the cover.” She explained and caught the look on his face in the mirror while she settled the bodice into place. With a mild, almost fond sigh, she added, “Formalwear nonsense. At least this one you only tighten down to fit over what we’ve already done. No more squishing necessary.” He nodded and took the laces into hand, tightening them down faster than before and steadfastly ignoring the look on her face that said she’d wanted to make an inappropriate comment to get a rise out of him. Alaric didn’t plan on rising to the bait, certainly not while he still had his own appearance to contend with.

Another attempt was made at trying to tie a cravat for the first time, and he grumbled about this being the reason he usually stayed behind to secure their means of escape. He couldn’t help but startle when she pressed unexpectedly into his space and gently pulled his hands away from the tangled silk. He had only a moment to marvel at them before they were out of his line of sight; one made of etched silver and cool on his skin, the other soft and warm and clad in a grey satin glove embroidered to imitate the prosthetic, both of them built like the rest of her. Small, broad, and deceptively delicate-looking for the strength in them. Maya firmly nudged his chin back up as he tried to track them, then she set to fixing the mess he’d made. His gaze stayed fixed on the wall just above the mirror behind her after he caught himself staring at the focused look on her face--almost comical in its seriousness when set into such soft features painted like a doll’s and framed by her round cheeks--and couldn’t quite bring himself to look his reflection in the eye when he realized what he’d been doing.

“Perfect!” Finally, Maya stepped back and looked over her handiwork with a smile while Alaric released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Shame you don’t much care for formal, ‘cause you clean up pretty damn nice.” 

“And here I thought I looked stupid.” The words lacked any real bite, especially since he had to admit that Maya certainly knew what she was doing when she had chosen for him. The cut was undeniably flattering, even if matching outfits meant he got the same palette she did. The tailor had said something about stormclouds kissed by the sunrise, but the effect of vivid pink against black and steel grey was garish, to say the least. “I hate this high neckline, it feels as though my shirt is trying to strangle me and this eyesore is not helping in that regard,” he tugged at his collar where the cravat was wrapped snugly around it for emphasis. Maya’s hands came up again, straightening her hard work.

“Aww,” she cooed teasingly, “big bad Alaric Barstow laid low by a length of obnoxiously pink silk.” Rather than chase the obvious vulgar comment--and he could see the flicker of it on her face as she considered it--she flipped the end of the cravat up into his face and giggled as he spluttered and straightened it back out himself. “I knew you were hopeless without me.”

Alaric watched her saunter out of the room with the growing suspicion that he was hopeless either way.

[impracticaldemon]

The Shopping Expedition (or, A Gift for Theo) by impracticaldemon

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Characters:  Theodorus (Theo) van Gogh, MC; also Arthur, Comte Canon Setting; Canon Characters Words: ~ 4500  [Also available on AO3 and FFnet]

A/Note:  Written for Theo’s (Cybird) birthday on May 1st. Happy Birthday Theo!  This wasn’t intended to be so long, but I had too much fun writing the Theo x MC interactions. The story assumes that MC has been there for a while already, but there isn’t yet an established romantic relationship.

~Imp

______________________

The Shopping Expedition

Cuff links? Nice, but boring. Gold tie pin? He did wear a cravat when necessary, but I wanted something distinctive. Watch chain? …I couldn’t remember what he used to tell time, although he probably did carry a pocket watch; after all, he was always in a hurry to get somewhere.  Heh—the thought put me in mind of the White Rabbit from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and the image of Theodorus van Gogh wearing bunny ears and a fluffy white tail made me snicker.

It was the day before Theo’s birthday, and I was getting a little—make that a lot—stressed out over what to get him.  I mean, he had everything he needed, between what Monsieur le Comte provided and his own income.  But I’d recently realized that he had very little in the way of personal keepsakes—things he treasured for more than being useful or necessary.  I wanted to find him something special, maybe even something that would make him smile.

Theo had been rude to me from the moment we’d been introduced.  So why was I trying so hard to find him a memorable birthday present? I suppose it was the little things he did in between mocking my (alleged) naiveté and impugning my intelligence. He noticed how hard I worked, for instance, and respected me for it—even checked up on me a few times when he realized I was putting in late night prep work for the next day.  He paid attention to what I was doing, and acknowledged legitimate improvements.  Mind you, his compliments were often buried among his criticisms, but they were sincere and on-point.  And maybe it was my imagination, but there had been a lot fewer insults lately.

I left the jeweller’s—the fourth such shop I’d been in—and frowned down at the paving stones.  The sun was already low in the sky, and I’d promised not to stay out past dusk.  Paris wasn’t a safe place after dark, and a lot of areas weren’t safe at any time. Or so I’d been told, over and over again, by various residents of Chez Comte, including Master Theodorus.

“Planning to take root and grow leaves?”  Snarky comment, snarky tone, big presence.

“Good afternoon to you too, Theo, and how are you today?”

[READ MORE BELOW CUT]

I looked up—quite a ways—and saw the expected sky blue eyes and irritating smirk.  His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, as usual, which made it feel like he was looming over me.  Other shoppers detoured around him without more than a quick glance of annoyance, with the exception of one belligerent young man who called him a rude name that he automatically returned in kind.  They glowered briefly at each other, but there was nothing in it—just an ordinary exchange of ‘civilities’ in Paris of the nineteenth century.  Or any century, come to think of it.

“Seriously, though, you going in or out?”  Theo indicated the shop behind me with his chin.

“I’m fine, thanks.  It’s a nice day, and I don’t often get out to see the city.  Haven’t needed the umbrella so far.”

Eyeroll.  Sigh.  “Give it up already, would you?  Are you here with Sebas?  Little pups like you need a handler—and maybe a leash.  You might get into trouble, otherwise.”

Right.  Why was I trying to find him a birthday present again? Oh yeah, because there was a heart of at least tarnished silver in there somewhere, and… well, I preferred to not think too hard about the rest.  I gave him my best ‘the customer is always right especially when they’re not’ smile. As a travel planner and occasional tour guide for status-conscious co-patriots, I’d had a lot of practice.

“I’m out on my own today, I’m afraid.  Napoleon and Isaac gave me a lift into town, but otherwise I’m completely unsupervised. How about you?  No big brother around to remind you to play nicely with the other children?”

Sadly, I wasn’t able to get a rise out of Theo, although his smirk faded into something closer to genuine amusement.

“What happened to the polite little girl who first arrived at the mansion?  I seem to remember somebody who stuck to ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and ‘I’m sorry’ most of the time.”

“Well, I didn’t get the best first impression of the tenants, and where I’m from, civility is often the best defense.”  I was going to add more—about lecherous writers and their syrup-swilling friends—but time was getting short, and not only did I still not have a present, but I was starting to wonder what was going on with Theo.  It was unlike him not to be twitching with impatience by this point in the conversation.  “Hey, Theo?”

“Hm?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company, but what’s up?”

“What do you mean?  I happened to be in town and saw you blocking traffic—thought I’d better wake you up before somebody knocked you down and stole your lunch money.”

I ignored the usual challenge to my maturity and life skills. “But now we’re both blocking traffic, and you’re always in a hurry when you’re on business.”  The image of the White Rabbit with his giant pocket watch came to mind again, and I added:  “You know—‘I’m late! I’m late!’ and all that.”

Theo frowned, apparently not catching the reference.  It occurred to me that I might be quoting the movie, rather than the book—and would Master Theodorus have bothered to read something as whimsical as Alice in Wonderland?  

“I’m never late for business appointments, hondje–what’s with you?”  Before I could reply, he went on.  “Believe it or not, you have a really terrible sense of self-preservation.  I was just trying to look out for one of God’s dumb creatures, you know?”

“Sure.”  Amazingly, the insult rolled right off me.  Maybe I was finally getting used to him, or maybe it was the dawning awareness that he was genuinely concerned and couldn’t bring himself to admit it.  “So, are you staying in town for dinner, or heading back?”

“Haven’t decided.” Theo shrugged.  “The real question is, how are you getting home?”

“A carriage?  I mean, that’s normal, isn’t it?”

“Napoleon or Isaac meeting you?”

“No, why?”  Great.  Now I had no birthday present and I was starting to feel nervous.  “I can always fend off the cabbie with my umbrella if there’s a problem, okay?  Anyway, I know this is usually your line, but I have to get going.  I still have something to pick up, and—for safety reasons—I’m not supposed to stay out after sunset.”

“…I guess I’ll go with you,” Theo grumbled.  At my look of surprise, he shoved his hands further into his pockets.  “You’re almost useful now, that’s all.  Be a waste for something to happen to you when Sebas finally has you halfway trained.”  More quietly, he added, “Still don’t know what they were thinking, letting you out on your own...”

I stared at him, torn between irritation and confusion.  After a moment, his eyes flicked away from mine.  I thought there was a hint of red in his fair cheeks, but the late afternoon sun made it hard to tell.

“Look, Theo, all joking aside, I’m not a child, and I think I can manage to take a carriage home on my own.”

“Who says I’m joking? What part of ‘Paris isn’t safe’ isn’t getting through your abnormally thick skull?  Look, you’re wearing nice clothes, and you’re obviously carrying money. Sure, you’re probably okay shopping on your own during the day, but taking a carriage out into the middle of nowhere just as it’s getting dark?  I couldn’t believe it when Arthur mentioned—” He broke off abruptly.

“What does our literary Lothario have to do with anything?” I demanded.

“Just—it doesn’t matter, okay?”  Theo was scowling, now; it was a familiar, if not especially charming expression.  “The point is, travelling home alone is asking for trouble, and you’re already trouble-prone.”

“Trouble-prone?”  

“Well, you managed to get stuck in le Comte’s door—that’s a first.  And just—ugh.  If you have something left to buy, we should get moving.  Besides, you’re still blocking traffic.”

Before I could find the words to properly express my aggravation, there was a polite cough at my elbow.  A neatly-dressed, middle-aged man had opened the door behind me, and was looking inquiringly between Theo and I.

“Madame, Monsieur… I do not wish to intrude upon a lovers’ quarrel, but perhaps you would be so kind as to find a more appropriate location?”  He bowed politely.  “You see, Monsieur is rather, ah, formidable, and it is not good for business.  I’m sure that you understand.”

Theo shot me an exasperated look, put a hand under my elbow, and dragged me away.  Since I couldn’t do anything about it without causing a scene, I went with him, calling an apology over my shoulder to the shopkeeper.

After we’d gone a short distance, I tried to yank my arm free.  I wasn’t successful, but at least it got my cranky companion to slow down. Once we’d reached a quieter spot, Theo finally let go.  We were both a little red, and this time it definitely wasn’t just the light.

“You—”

“What the—”

Theo shoved his hands back into his pockets.  I would have crossed my arms in response, but I had a bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Theo—”

“Hondje—”

I decided to let him go first.  It had occurred to me—as annoying as it was—that he might have a point about the wisdom of taking a hired carriage back to the mansion on my own.  There was no way to call ahead, and the stretch of road between the outskirts of the city and le Comte’s residence was uninhabited and surrounded by forest.  While I was confident that the residents of the mansion would hunt down anyone who harmed me, it made no sense to put myself in harm’s way unnecessarily.  

“Why didn’t Napoleon make arrangements for you to get home?” Theo asked at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  “He usually fusses over things like that.”

“I don’t know.”  I thought about the trip into town, and added, “I got the impression that he thought it was already taken care of.  He reminded me to stick to the one shopping district, but that was it.”

Theo suddenly went still, as though something had occurred to him.  Then he scowled again, but it didn’t seem to be at me, for a change.

“Who gave you the money to take a carriage back to the mansion?”

“Le Comte—well, technically I suppose it was Arthur…”  I paused, thinking it over.  “Arthur came up to me shortly before I left to tell me that le Comte had asked him to pass along the money for the trip back.  I was a bit surprised, but it didn’t occur to me to be worried about it.”

Theo muttered something in Dutch that I didn’t quite catch.  It sounded rude, but when I raised my eyebrows at him he just hunched a shoulder and growled, “Arthur, not you.”

“You think Arthur set me up?”  That made no sense.  “But why? I mean, he’s the one who told me—”

I bit off the rest of the sentence, since I’d been about to tell Theo that I’d been looking for a birthday present for him.  Arthur was the one who had recommended the particular shopping district and given me directions.  I’d reluctantly consulted him about possible gifts for Theo, since they appeared to be friends.  I would have preferred to ask our resident angel—Theo’s brother Vincent—but he’d been working non-stop on a painting for the past several days.

“Let me guess.”  Theo had stopped scowling, although he didn’t look happy, either.  “Somebody—probably Arthur, since Vincent’s been painting—told you about my birthday, right?  And you got it in your head that you should get me something, because you would.  Then Arthur suggested where to shop—he knows I like a lot of the artisans in this district.  Sound about right?”

“…Maybe.  But you still haven’t explained what you are doing here.”

“I told you—I had to be in town anyway, and somebody had to look out for the ignorant puppy.”

“I really wish you’d stop it with the pet references.  How did you know I’d gone into town and was coming back on my own?”

“Arthur.”  Theo grimaced. “We were chatting in the front hall, and he mentioned that he was concerned, because he overheard that the coachman wasn’t returning to town for you.  When I said you were probably coming back with Napoleon or Isaac, he made a big show of remembering that Napoleon and Isaac were staying in town late tonight. Bastard.”

I continued to stare at Theo, as the bits and pieces started to click.  It was beginning to sound as though Theo had rushed into town entirely for my sake—so that I wouldn’t have to travel home alone.  Even stranger, Arthur had been able to wind him up with a pretty suspicious story—maybe because my safety was at stake? Normally, Theo was as sceptical as they came.  …Not that I was feeling warm and fuzzy just because Theo had panicked over me or anything.

“What are you grinning about, hondje?”  The glower was back, probably because Theo hated looking like he actually cared about anyone other than Vincent.

“Nothing.”  For some reason, I couldn’t get the smile off my face.

“Just remember that if you had half a brain, and weren’t so reckless, you’d cause a lot less trouble.”

“Right—because it’s my fault that Arthur set me up just so he could mess with you.”

Theo didn’t respond; he seemed to be deep in thought.  Then he hastily pulled out a pocket watch and muttered, “Damn, I really am late, now.”

I stifled a giggle, as the image of Theo the White Rabbit came to mind once more.  “Hey, Theo?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry if you ended up missing something because you were looking out for me.”

He looked startled, then replaced the watch in his pocket and turned away, running a hand through his bright copper-brown hair.  “It wasn’t a big deal.  Otherwise you’d be on your own.”

“I still appreciate it—thank you.”

“Well… just remember that you owe me one.”  He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.  “You still had somewhere you needed to go?”

“Yeah.  Do you mind if I go into that bookstore?”  I pointed across the street.  I was pretty sure I’d been there once before with Sebastian, who was picking up an order for Leonardo.

“Whatever you want is probably in the library at the mansion, you realize.”  Despite his words, Theo immediately set out towards the store.  I hurried after him, unable to repress the thought that it was a lot more comfortable being in nineteenth century Paris with somebody—especially if he happened to be moderately intelligent and good-looking.  Having a glare that parted crowds like Moses parting the Red Sea was a bonus.

I was fortunate enough to find what I wanted, and quick enough that even Theo couldn’t find fault with me for wasting his time.  When I rejoined him outside the store, he was idly flipping through an art book, criticizing the publisher’s choice of paintings.  I could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it, though.

“So, I guess we should get home then?” I asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.  I’d suggest eating out, but Sebas is probably waiting for you, right?”

To my surprise, he held out an imperative hand for my bag, which now contained a neatly-wrapped two-volume set along with the bits and pieces I’d picked up earlier.  For some reason, I didn’t try to refuse, even though the bag wasn’t especially heavy.

“Thanks…”

“Sure.”  He offered his elbow, and rolled his eyes when I stared at it blankly.  “Take my arm, would you?  Last thing I need is for you to trip and twist an ankle now that the light’s going. And stop looking so surprised—makes you look even more out of it than usual.”

“Uh-huh.  Have you ever considered not adding the insults? I hear it can do wonders for people’s opinion of you.”

He looked down at me, smirking.  “Why would I care what people think?”

“You care what Vincent thinks.”

“He’s my older brother, and an artistic genius.  He’s allowed to have opinions.”

“Right…”

We were walking steadily toward the nearest area that was likely to have coaches for hire that would travel beyond the city limits.  I hated to admit it, even to myself, but it was nice to have an arm to lean on, especially since my feet had been sore for a quite while thanks to the uneven cobbles and hard paving stones.  I’d done more walking than I’d anticipated, and late Victorian fashions in ladies’ footwear were elegant, but not especially comfortable.

“Oi, hondje! Don’t fall asleep until we’re actually in the coach, okay?  Or are you hoping I’ll carry you?”

I stifled a yawn, and realized that Theo had a point—about falling asleep on my feet, not about wanting to be carried.  Because I didn’t.  Why would I?

“Oh jeez…  Come on, we’re here now—up you go.”

I let him help me into the carriage, and settled myself decorously on the forward-facing seat. Theo joined me a moment later, having spoken to the driver.  He sat down beside me, and stretched his long legs out in front of him as much as space allowed.  

“Go ahead and nap if you want,” he told me, pulling out a notebook and pencil.  “Maybe I can get some work done if you’re not babbling at me.”

“I don’t babble.”  At least, that’s what I tried to say.  A yawn got in the way, and Theo snorted.  I narrowly resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at him.  Too bad I really was feeling sleepy, though.

We reached the mansion very shortly after that, from my perspective.  I didn’t remember much from the trip itself, which was just as well—or so I told myself.  For one thing, when I woke up, I was leaning on Theo’s chest, and his arm was around me. Moreover, he’d obviously taken off my hat for me, which was just as well, since otherwise I’d have been skewered by the ten-centimeter-long hatpins.  I felt stupidly pleased about that, as well as comfortable tucked up against him, which was embarrassing.  Best not to remember how it had come about.

Theo’s face was scrupulously neutral when I sat up just as we were reaching the mansion.  He just… totally ignored whatever had happened. Not that anything had happened, but still.  I jammed my hat back onto my head, and tried not to yelp when I poked myself with a hatpin. Theo snickered.

“It’s on backward.  Might as well leave it off—you’ll look a little less untidy that way.  Though I guess at least it covers up your hair…”

I wanted to try for icy disdain, but instead I found myself missing his warmth beside me.  Apparently, he noticed something in my expression. His finger lightly brushed my cheek, which suddenly felt very warm indeed.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that, hondje,” he muttered, only partly to me.

“Wh-why not?”  This time, I tried for aloof.  What came out was anything but.

“Well… you look like you wouldn’t mind being kissed, and it is almost my birthday.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Arthur!”  Why was I leaning toward him, instead of grabbing my things and hurrying out of the carriage?

“That must be it.”

The touch of his lips on mine was electric.  Okay, what was going on?  I mean—really?

There was a respectful knock on the carriage door, and Theo’s fingers dropped from my cheek.  He grinned at me, but I couldn’t read the emotion behind it.

“Look on the bright side. The driver was bound to think we’d been up to something, since your hair’s such a mess.  At least this way you’ve gotten some benefit out of the embarrassment.”

“What?!  Theo!”

Of course he opened the door at that moment, and it was plain that the driver thought exactly what Theo had predicted he would think.  Ugh!  It was mortifying, but at least the man was a stranger, and hopefully I’d never see him again.

The same couldn’t be said for Arthur, Sebastian, and le Comte, who met us as we came into the house. I’d tried to tidy my hair and replace my hat while Theo paid off the driver, but the expressions on the three men’s faces when they took in my appearance suggested I hadn’t done a very good job.  I came to the conclusion that I’d have to kill Arthur, just to avoid ever seeing the smug, self-satisfied look ever again.  At least le Comte was back to his normal, pleasant self after a bare instant; Sebastian raised his eyebrows at me suggestively—naturally, I ignored him.

Unlike me, Theo was completely self-possessed.  He handed me my bag with a casual, “Try not to drop it, after all that.”  Then he nodded to le Comte and Sebastian, and dropped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.  I thought I saw Arthur wince, but if so, any pain wasn’t enough to offset his amusement. He winked at me as Theo marched him out of the front hall towards the games room.

“Are you alright, chérie?” Le Comte appeared to be genuinely concerned, so I reassured him that I was fine.

“You’re late getting back,” murmured Sebastian.  “You’ll have to tell me all about it while we work on dinner.”

“Or not,” I murmured right back at him.  I bowed to le Comte.  “Monsieur le Comte—here is the money that Arthur gave me, from you, to pay for the journey back from town.  As it turned out, I didn’t need it.”

“From me?  No… it’s not mine.  But why don’t you keep it, since it appears that Arthur’s been up to mischief again?  The least he can do is help to pay for your parcels.”

When I tried to protest, le Comte smiled gently at me.  I accepted my defeat graciously—after all, there was some merit to his argument.  After a few more pleasantries—which helped to soothe my ruffled feathers, I admit—I went upstairs to change and put away my things. Le Comte accompanied me to the second floor, and detained me briefly outside my door.

“Did you find what you were looking for?  I gather you were trying to find a gift for Theodorus.”

“Oh…”  I hesitated, then nodded.  “Yes, I did eventually choose something, thank you Comte.  It came to me when I was looking at watch guards—I thought maybe a sturdy but elegant gold chain would suit Theo, you see.”

“That makes sense. But I take it that you didn’t get the chain?”

“No…  I wanted something more unusual.”  I decided to confide in le Comte—he struck me as good at keeping secrets, and once I told somebody, I was less likely to chicken out. I reached into my bag, and pulled out the wrapped parcel.  “Open it, and tell me what you think—if you don’t mind.  I’m sure it’s completely the opposite of what Theo would ordinarily read, but that’s why I got it.”

“I’m intrigued, ma petite. But if you mean that you chose something other than a technical work, or an art book, then I congratulate you.  It’s perceptive of you to realize that he could use something to shake him out of his tendency toward ‘all work and no play’—other than drinking with Arthur, that is.”

“Well, to be honest, that was only part of it.”  I made sure that le Comte followed me into my room, since with my luck, Theo would come up at exactly the wrong moment if we stayed in the upper hallway.

“Now I’m even more curious.” Le Comte deftly untied the string that secured the parcel, and folded back the brown wrapping paper to reveal two illustrated books.  “’Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’… and ‘Through the Looking Glass’.”  He looked up at me, and I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the approval in his warm golden eyes.  “I wonder what our ever-practical Theo will make of these?  An excellent choice, chérie.  And no doubt you feel a certain kinship with Mademoiselle Alice? Although I think you chose a more dangerous world to fall into, as it were.”

I returned his smile and shrugged.  “Maybe. I’ve had a number of frightening experiences here, I’ll admit, but I’m not sure that Wonderland sounds all that pleasant.  At least nobody here has threatened to cut off my head for refusing to play croquet using live flamingos.”  When le Comte laughed softly, I added, “But you’re right that I do feel a bit like Alice at times.”

Le Comte flipped idly through the first book, admiring the illustrations.  Naturally, I’d made sure the artwork wouldn’t attract outright derision from the birthday boy.

“Tell me, chérie, what was your other reason for purchasing these books?  I thought it was because of Alice, and your situation here, but I gather that’s not it.”

“Oh—yes, you’re right.” I took the book from le Comte and flipped back several pages to one of the first illustrations, which showed a well-dressed rabbit with a large pocket watch and an air of panic about him.  Underneath, the caption read: ‘Oh dear, oh dear.  I shall be too late.’

Le Comte stared at the White Rabbit for several seconds without comment, and I began to feel anxious again.  Any resemblance to a certain hyper-busy art dealer was apparently all in my head…  Then the polished, ever-courteous, impeccably-dressed man beside me snickered audibly.

“Comte?”

He closed the book, leaving it between my hands, and bowed politely.  “I wish you all the best, ‘Alice’.  If you can get Theo to slow down and enjoy himself, even a little, you will have done him a true service.”

I nodded, but didn’t know what to say.  Who was I to tell Theo to slow down, if he was doing what he wanted to do?  We had a tenuous connection at best, although the afternoon’s events had suggested something more.  Was there more?  Did I want there to be?  What could I—or should I—read into that barely-there kiss?

When Sebastian arrived at my room twenty minutes later, sounding half-concerned and half-annoyed, I still hadn’t moved, and I still didn’t know the answers to any of my questions. The only thing I knew for sure was that I clearly had Theo on the brain.  I apologized to Sebastian, put ‘Alice’ into a drawer to wrap later, and finally got changed. It was time to concentrate on the job at hand, and not Theo’s unusually protective behaviour, or a stray kiss.

[END]

_______________________

A/Note:  Were you amused? Entertained? Please let me know what you thought!  Feedback is an author’s bread and butter when it comes to fanfiction. ♥ There may or may not be a sequel, depending on my time, other writing commitments, and reader interest.  For now, this story is published under my one-shot collection “Teatime Tales from the Mansion”

[londonfog-chan]

The Trans!Reader x Jonathan Joestar That No One Asked For But is Getting Anyway Because Fuck Convention: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

This one goes out to all my people who requested a Trans!Reader insert on my other blogs, I’m trying to test the waters with this one to make sure I’m doing it justice. No one should ever have to feel bad about themselves and I want this to be my love letter to all of my trans folks out there.

...

[[MORE]]

At first, she didn’t recognize the young man standing alone on the hill. Maybe you’d been chased off by him, and she worried when she saw your box in his hand. Heartbroken, thinking that your treasure had been commandeered by a brute. But the wind betrayed the boy, billowing locks of hair and instantly she broke out into a run, the turquoise fabric of her dress flaring out behind her as she hitched up her skirts, her blonde hair trailing behind her like a cape.

“I am here!” she called your name, and when the young man turned she saw the friend she’d known since infancy.

“Oh my!” the lightest dusting of pink tinges her cheeks as she skids to a halt directly in front of you. “You look… Dashing! Such fanciful clothes.”

“I had to make an impression darling.” You reply, smiling shyly and holding a hat box closely to your chest. “My brother won’t miss the trousers nor the blouse, but the shoes… They’re far too big for me. And… And I’m unsure how to tie the cravat...”

“Don’t fret, I can fix it for you! Look, I’ve even brought some things for you to pin up your hair. We’ll have you all primped in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Like a mother, Erina Pendleton takes you between her knees on the grassy knoll. Armed with a brush and a coil of ribbon, she pulled and twisted your snarled tangles up and away from your face. You obediently pulled a man’s cap out of the hatbox and over your head as Erina finished with your hair and took your shoes off, pulling stockings from her basket and stuffing your shoes until they fit snugly when she tied the laces.

“Oh…” she smiles when she’s done, and for some reason it makes your heart tingle the slightest bit.

“What do you think?” you ask.

“I think… I think you’re positively handsome, and you seem to be less tightly wound. Especially around the eyes.”

You’re unsure of how you look, so you can’t say for certain that you feel the clothes have done anything to make you less of a wreck emotionally. Raising your arms over your head, you look at your shoes, the cravat Erina showed you how to tie around your neck, the tweed trousers. Everything is in muted colors, not a stitch of brightness to be seen save for the handkerchief peeping from your breast pocket. When you stole the clothes from the discarded trunk your brother left behind before he went to India, you felt exhilarated, frightened at the prospect of getting caught and possibly taking a switch for your boldness. Yet when your mother caught you taking them, she merely laughed and told you they wouldn't fit your brother even if you decided to fix them up, but if you wanted some play clothes they were more than adequate to serve that purpose. You decidedly felt deflated, a bit hurt she didn't really do anything and dismissed you as though you were an eccentric child playing at a game instead of a young man trying to come into his own. But you do feel something now that Erina has fixed you up… almost airy. And she is right, you don’t feel the strain around your eyes anymore. After a while however, you begin to squirm, indeed feeling something but not the freedom nor the personal acceptance you've been trying to achieve.

“My trousers chafe me so!” you complained. “Have they not managed to figure out a finer weave of fabric for the warmer months?!”

“Stop scratching! You’re being so vulgar!" Erina whines, but it does nothing to deter you from reaching into the band of your pants and scratching violently everywhere.

"Damn and blast!"

"Sophisticated gentlemen don't reach into their drawers and scratch in front of a lady!" she scolds, "You said you want to unleash the gentleman inside you, what would he say to this display?”

“Well right now the gentleman inside me wants me to tend to the war raging on my buttocks!”

Erina cries your name, begging you to stop scratching your rear end with a ferocity that nearly makes you roar in frustration. It does take quite a long time for you to relent, damning the conventions of polite society all the way and using rough language that the poor girl has unfortunately become accustomed to. For a while you complain some more about the clothes, the societal expectation to be covered at all times, the fact that neither gender is truly free of their own volition, and the revolution you wish to start for a society that is nothing short of anarchy.

"Everyone will be allowed to run stark naked if they wish to, or to be draped in silks and I'll make all these pompous aristocrats provide every necessity. I grow weary of hearing the necessities of decorum every five minutes when I simply wish to fulfill a human need!"

“Now, now…” Erina coos gently, brushing blades of grass from your trousers. “Look here, you’ve unsightly grass stains.

"If I must return to my flouncing hell I'll take care of it later." you told her. "Grass stains speak to a boy that craves adventure. An Odysseus!"

"I'm sure it does." she giggles. "But all this talk of treasure, we still haven’t taken care of the most important part.”

“… I’d nearly forgotten about that. Let me get her for you…”

You finally relinquish the tight hold you’ve been keeping on your hat box, slowly opening the lid and reaching in with both hands. Cradling your treasure as though it’s a child, you rock your precious doll back and forth, smoothing the cascading brown curls down and fixing her skirts. It takes a while for you to let go. You don’t want to let the poor thing go. She is far beyond a play thing, she was your bearer of the most heartfelt confessions and tears, the first to know of your beginning metamorphosis back when you feared Erina would call you horrific names if you told her your most guarded secret.

Now, when you look up at Erina, you know you’ve made the right decision to trust her. She scoots closer to you as you tremble, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and not once making a move to steal the doll from your grasp. In fact, she doesn’t presume to take it until you offer it to her, and then she treats it as though she is receiving a holy relic.

“Please…” you beseech your best friend, “Give her a good home, with plenty of love and affection. She likes to sleep beside your pillow in her box, and her favorite holiday is Easter, her favorite food is spice cake…”

“You can trust me, my dearest friend. I promise to take very good care of Aphrodite for you.”

Slender fingers reached forward to stroke your cheek, clearing away the tears that have fallen for the poor doll you relinquished. As she cleans your face, she tells you the doll will never leave her sight, fully prepared to cater to her every whim as though she's a princess and not made of wax. Yet Erina is right. You mustn’t cry. It’s only for a little while that Erina will have her, until you’re grown up and have a house of your own to keep your possessions. Unsure of your parent's reaction when you finally decide that they need to know they've lost a daughter and obtained a son, you told Erina it's better to keep Aphrodite away lest she is destroyed. You promised your dolly she'd be safer with Erina those nights you cuddled her, seeking reassurance from the persecution you knew you’d face from the rest of the world.

“When I’m a grown man, I’ll be a renowned physician.” You asserted aloud. “I’ll have a big house, millions of books, my piano, and I’ll play Aphrodite’s favorite songs for her every single day. If I am not accepted, then that will be fine. No family will be permitted to enter my abode except for you, my dearest Erina. We will have twenty dogs apiece, and I shall give them only the strongest names from Greco Roman literature.”

“Twenty apiece?!” Erina exclaimed. “Don’t you think that’s a mite excessive?”

“Not at all, in fact I think that’s hardly a proper minimum requirement for a house.”

All this talk of dogs and estates with room for a man and his doll makes you excited, and you cannot help but take your borrowed handkerchief from your pocket to wipe your face. The wind evidently shared your sentiments, as the minute you loosened your grip the scrap of fabric floated away on a gust that made you clutch your hat for fear of losing it.

“Oh no!” Erina whimpered. “I hand embroidered that handkerchief!”

“A thousand pardons darling! I’ll fetch it back!” you cried, and you’re up and running before she can stop you.

As you chased the scrap of fabric, you couldn’t help but feel elated. There was no tug at your waist that made your insides hurt and your breathing shallow, no skirts to trip you and confine you to a chair where you practiced the same stitch over and over until your fingers felt they would break. None of the insecurity and strangeness at inhabiting a body that did not feel like it belonged to you. You only felt the wind at your face, the hard earth below your brother’s shoes as you ran… No longer did you feel trapped, like a lion pacing a tiny cage in the circus.

You felt elated at last. As though finally, after all this time, you were living your truth.

It was Erina’s screams that finally snapped you from your euphoria. Pocketing the runaway handkerchief, you began your course back to the grassy knoll where you left her, fearing the worst when you heard her crying out “please! Please put her down!” Your heart sank. Not only was your dearest friend being assaulted, but her tormentor evidently had commandeered Aphrodite because there was only one other “her” that Erina could be referring to. She never referred to you in the old way anymore, not since your confession.

You made it just in time to see a young man being beaten to the ground, two other snot nosed brats, had commandeered Aphrodite and you heard talk of them going to lift up her skirts to see if she'd been made with all the right parts…

And the last thing you remembered was seeing red, absolutely seething with rage as you put a shoe up the ass of one of the boys and nearly launched Aphrodite into Erina’s arms. All the frustration, all the anger you felt your entire life of living a life that wasn’t yours, it came out in the form of an unchecked feral response that made the boys cry out for mercy as they left you, Erina, and the downtrodden young man alone. By the time you'd let them go, they could only hobble off pathetically. In your rage you vaguely recalled screaming to them that perhaps you'd check if they'd been given all the right parts, one of the boys had taken your brother's shoe to the groin and was being dragged along by his companion. Your face was dripping with sweat and tears, and your hands were sore and bloody. The blonde didn’t know who to comfort first, but when your eyes befell on the strapping young lad she too went to his aid.

“Don’t touch me!” he whined. “I didn’t do it for you, you know! A gentleman should always stand for a damsel in distress!”

“… then I suppose a thank you is in order for me?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Even you're shocked at the personality you've assumed in your new clothes. With little effort your voice has become commanding, a general's voice that is full of conviction. Your stance is confident, centered, alone in your room you often perused illustrations in books of the matadores from Spain and admired the way they carried themselves in the charcoal drawings. Compared to the uptight men of this era, you swore to yourself you'd reject the stiffness of aristocracy and instead would carry yourself as unyielding as a man facing a bull. The young man looks up at you, crimson with rage, shaking and nose streaming carmine down his face. He and Erina have the same bewildered and intimidated expression, and he flinches but does not lash out when you heave him to his feet. He finally bolts from the clearing, insulting you as though you’re the one that beat him to a pulp, and for quite some time you and Erina stare after his retreating form.

"You brute!" he whimpers as he runs away.

“Who in the blue hell…” you begin, and you see Erina approaching with an unfamiliar handkerchief in hand to wrap your bloody knuckles.

Through the blood, the two of you manage to read the words “Jonathan Joestar”, looking back at the expanse of land where the boy had run off to even more confused and left with far more questions than answers.

But one thing is certain and you loathe it to be the first thought you have in your emergence into boyhood: this Jonathan Joestar fellow is the most handsome man you've ever seen in your life.