#I would’ve loved to have seen her resign

[night-triumphantt]

I don’t Care about the ships WHERE IS JINX

[msfantasy-comics]

The Sick

Damian Wayne x Reader

Summary: a requested short story on Damian reacting to a sick Y/n.

“Damian, get off your phone and pay attention.” Bruce reprimands Damian who still hasn’t spared a single glance at their glowering father, while the rest of the bat kids stare on in dumbfounded shock. No ‘yes father’ no ‘apologies father’. No, instead Damian continues to frown down at his phone as he furiously taps away at the screen.

“Gordon, I need you to hack Y/n’s video feed on her phone to see what she is doing.” Damian demands, ignoring his now dumb-founded father.

Bruce has never seen his son ignore him so brazenly.

“Uh, Dami, firstly, I’m not breaking your girlfriend’s privacy. Secondly, the magic word-“ but before Barbara can even finish her sentence, Barbara is shoved away from the Bat-computer. “Hey!”

Damian sporadically slaps at the keys until a video feed of you pops up, the soft sounds of your congested breathing stifles Damian. A chesty cough causing his brows to knit together in worry.

Why hadn’t you told him?

He sends you yet another text message, making you weakly glance at your phone propped up on the nightstand. Only for your eyes to flutter close; drifting off into a sleepy trance.

God, you look so weak. Had he not hacked your cameras, he never would’ve known how sick you were.

“Damian, I thought we already discussed this. Appropriating the bat cave to monitor your girlfriend is not an appropriate use of the technology.” Bruce sounds off but Damian waves his father off.

“She wasn’t answering her phone so I got worried she was abducted or subjected to torture or what if some creep took a special interest in my-“ But Dick butts in, refusing to hear the end of Damian’s sentence.

“It’s tempting to use this technology to check on our loved ones. But it’s a huge breach in their trust and privacy. If you aren’t hearing from them, there’s probably a reasonable explanation for it.” Damian looks completely indifferent so Dick ups the ante. “If you aren’t going to respect your partners boundaries. We are going to have no choice, but to tell her about your unapproved monitoring again.”

Now Damian looks terrified.

“TT, I’m going to be in great trouble again.” All concerned trains of thought comes to a screeching halt when your choked coughing fit blares through the speakers. “Father, I have to attend my beloved.” And without waiting for his father’s approval, Damian rushes off to the nearest car in the bat cave.

“How are you going to let him act like that Bruce?!”Jason berates with a disapproving shake of the head. “Typical.” He mutters accusingly under his breath as Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose.

You groan at the frantic knocking at your door. Rolling out of bed you shuffle out of your bedroom only for the front door to fly open with a loud bang and a frazzled looking Damian standing in the entry way with a lock pick wedged between his clutched fingers.

Without a second to spare he rushes and pulls you into a gentle embrace. Instantly curbing your annoyances. “Why are you out of bed? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Your favourite soup is on its way made by Pennyworth himself. What medication have you taken so far? I’ll tell Pennyworth to pick up some anti-inflammatories on his way. Have you checked your temperature?” Your mind swirls at the barrage of questions.

“Why? How? Damian- were you spying on me again?” You asked irritated only for Damian’s palms to press on on the base of your neck.

“I was worried-“

“Damian!”

“TT, I apologise for my indiscretions.” He answers, looking anything but sorry. But your sick swirly brain is exhausting your temperament.

“You’re going to be in big trouble when I’m feeling better.” Your normally stoic lover grins victoriously at your resignation.

“I am aware of my inevitable predicament. Come.” He mutters almost anxiously before resorting back to his stoic expression. Stumbling back to your bed, Damian lifts your blanket up, allowing you to crawl back under the crispy clean sheets, followed by Damian, moulding around your form. “Sleep, I’ll keep you warm.”

[hopelessromantic5]

King Arthur happens to be traveling through Ealdor the exact day the citizens decide they’ve had enough of Merlin.

Labeling him too dangerous, they tied him up on the pyre in the center of town.

As long as Merlin had been alive, he’d never seen this pyre lit.

He would’ve just gotten himself out of this situation with his ‘gifts’ if it weren’t for his poor mother.

The villagers would never let her live in peace if he magically disappeared.

No, this was the only way she could go on living, even with a broken heart.

He didn’t fight. He didn’t really hear much of what they spit at him. But he could hear his mother wailing at him, to save himself, to do whatever he must do.

He’d resigned himself to an early death.

Tom, the town representative, started spewing some righteous words at him. New Religion words that didn’t quite make sense to him, but that’s to be expected. He is, himself, a creature of the old religion, if prophecy is to be trusted.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, serpent?”

Merlin opened his mouth to tell his mother that he loved her, but he stopped short.

In the distance, he could hear a sound.

The beating of hooves on hard, cold dirt.

Visitors were approaching.

It must be fate, he thinks.

As the horses drew closer, the villagers slowly turned their attentions away from him.

Merlin simply hung his head, letting the Earth he loved so dearly decide which way his life would swing.

“What is the meaning of this?”

A calm, steady voice came from behind him. Deep and concerned. Merlin wished he could see the man.

“My lord,” Tom bowed, as well as he could, which was strange.

Upon realization, Merlin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, were these visitors noble? They never had nobility stay long enough to make comments on anything, only ever just passing through.

“I asked you a question.” The voice said again, with all the authority of someone who’s used to using it.

“This man is a sorcerer, sire. We were just-“

“What has he done?”

“Sire?”

“What has this man done to call for these extreme measures?” When no one answered him immediately, he rephrased.

“Surely there must’ve been a crime committed?” As if it’s a question.

Merlin’s mother pulled herself out of shock and brought herself forth.

“He did nothing, sire.” She spoke firm and unmoving. She must’ve seen hope in this man that Merlin had yet to lay eyes on. “He’s only ever used it for healing wounds and helping our gardens in the winter. Please have mercy on him, my lord. He is my only son.” Tears started falling as her voice broke. She finally met Merlin’s eyes again and he smiled at her, weakly.

“So this man-“

“Sorcerer.” Corrected Tom. What a dick.

“This man, did nothing but heal you and help you survive and this is how you repay him?”

Again no answer.

The man seemed to gesture at Tom, walking towards the town elder, and bringing him finally into Merlin’s line of sight.

The doomed boy nearly gasped.

Silver and red bled together in the sun, armor and finery melded like roses in white sand.

The man-the lord…the knight? He had golden blonde hair, that shone like it’s own light.

Blue eyes made even more obvious and striking surrounded by unblemished, sun-kissed skin.

“You seem to be leading the horde. Tell me why?” No, answer. “Cut him down.” A command. The stranger’s face was a hard, blank line.

Funny how, even then, he didn’t feel like a stranger. But Merlin was in no state to remember it.

“My lord, I do not think that would be wise. Your father was the one to wage war on magic-“

“I am not my father. Cut him down.”

Merlin swallowed. Uther Pendragon was the only person in his mind that waged the war on magic, that began the purge. Which means this man could only be his son, Prince Arthur.

What a prince he was.

Well, King, now.

No wonder every person in the vicinity practically dropped to their knees upon his arrival. They’d all heard stories of ‘The Just King’ that now reigned over Camelot. Giving whatever he could to his citizens that needed it most, never turning anyone away who seeks shelter. Merlin had heard the same as everyone else. Seeing the King in person now, he was in awe.

“I will not endanger the lives of all who live here.” Tom turns back to Merlin with the lit torch.

Merlin held his breath, but the second Tom turned away from him, the King pulled his sword. It made the loveliest sound as it left the sheath.

The sound of salvation.

Tom had the tip of a majestic blade directed right at his throat, as the King spoke again.

“I said, cut him down.”

The look on the King’s face was one that could kill.

Merlin wondered momentarily why he cared so much.

Finally someone from the crowd stepped forward with a knife and began to cut away Merlin’s ties.

Hunith leapt forward and engulfed her son in a hug, while also somewhat holding his body upright.

He did not want to let go, considering he thought he would never get to hug his mother again. But the entire village was watching them.

As was-

“What is your name?”

It was phrased as a question but spoken like a command. Merlin knew it was directed at him without opening his eyes.

He did, reluctantly, release his mother and turn to the golden King, facing deep blue eyes head on. Never cowering.

“Merlin.”

The King must’ve seen something in him. Something every other person was blind to or chose to ignore, simply because he was a peasant. He took a step closer and Merlin could hear the tiny tink of metal pieces on his shining armor, as he did so.

“Well, Merlin.” He said, as if trying it out for himself. “Seeing as I’ve just given you your life, I’d like to ask a favor.”

Merlin’s curiosity was peaked, to say the least. King’s didn’t ask favors, they took whatever they wanted.

King Arthur did not wait for a reply to continue.

“I’m in need of assistance. And I could use someone with a gift like yours, specifically.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes in minuscule doubt. Doubt of intentions, doubt of his safety.

The King somehow knowing his exact thoughts said

“Of course you would be permitted to come back when you are needed. And when I have accomplished my goal, if you wish, you can leave. I will not keep anyone against their will. I am simply offering.” A small smile played on his mouth. Flush pink lips. He also held up his hands as if to say ‘I will not harm you’.

Merlin’s gut told him to follow this man.

Terrifyingly, his intuition told him to follow this man, practically a stranger, anywhere. Everywhere.

Merlin felt a pull he’s never felt before. In the moment, he assumed it was immense gratitude for saving his life.

Merlin turned to meet his mothers eyes, he already knew what she was going to tell him.

“I think it will be good for you. To get out for a while.” She smiles softly.

“Will you be alright?” He whispered, glancing at the crowd still gathered around an unlit pyre.

“I’ll be fine.” She grabbed him in a bear hug, like she always did. “And if they boot me out, I’ll come find you.”

Merlin sighed into her shoulder.

“Alright.”

When Merlin turned back, the King had turned his eyes to the ground, giving mother and son a moment of privacy.

Merlin was starting to warm to him already.

“Can I pack first?”

King Arthur met his gaze then, doing that half smile thing, again.

“I suppose.” He nodded. “But don’t dawdle we need to move if we want to make it back before sundown.”

“Yes, sire.” The title which usually held reverence and respect, was laced with sarcasm. He didn’t seem to think twice, as he strode away towards their hut to gather his things.

If Merlin had looked back, he would’ve found a fully beaming King looking after him and about six knights with faces of complete shock.

And perhaps, one knowing mother.

[icallhimjoey]

idk why but I think it would be funny reader stuck in the elevator with joe and reader freaking out bc the elevator stopped while joe is all soft and trying to calm her down

YES excellent – i merged this idea with another request from anon who asked for a story that starts on the tube, so, here we go... a new five-part series! here's part one! thanks for the request, you're well sexy and the best, love ya for life xo Wordcount: 2.6K

---

Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Rough night?”

You knew what this looked like.

You understood why the person who you'd sat down next to immediately got up and moved a few seats down. Why they avoided the drama of it all.

You understood why the lady opposite you stared at the floor and nothing but the floor, pretending that she hadn't seen you, probably because that would just be easiest for everyone involved, the politest thing to do.

You understood why the handsome stranger at the end of the carriage kept looking over, his big round eyes overflowing with pity for the runaway bride in the dirty dress, mascara stains all down her face and her hair a tangled up mess.

You got it.

You probably would’ve felt the same had you witnessed a girl in a wedding dress sit down in an empty seat, sort of dazed and empty-looking, numb to the stares and whispers – if people even whispered at all; the tube was notoriously quiet, always and forever.

“Rough night?” a boy from a group of four, maybe five, called over, and the rest of them all tried to hide their laughs.

Badly.

It was obvious they’d been drinking and you guessed they were on their way to the next party. Off to find another bar or a club that still let people in after the last tube had gone.

You made direct eye-contact with the kid, and you looked exhausted the way people can only look exhausted after they’ve cried for a good while.

Made sense, since, you know, you’d cried for a good while.

You just looked at this boy, who thought maybe he’d get a reaction out of you, but your lack of expression and unwavering stare quickly made him grow uncomfortable. Made his buddies shove his shoulders as they told him to leave her alone man, suddenly all respectful and well-mannered.

They felt the vibe. None of this was fucking funny.

It was enough to get him to back off, and thank fuck they all got off at Leicester Square – of course they did – and when the doors closed again, you noticed the carriage was mostly empty now.

A glance sideways told you the handsome stranger who’d been sneaking looks at you was still there.

Watching you.

What an outfit to be seen in by someone who had looks that would usually make you sit up a little straighter. Would make you faff with your hair a bit. Would make you stick your chin out and push your shoulders back, just in case he looked at you again.

You absolutely didn’t give a single shit about it now.

Couldn't care less about what you currently looked like.

You knew your face was a mess of streaky foundation with black mascara marks all the way down to your chin and, fuck it, you weren’t even planning on washing it off tonight. You’d wallow in bed and probably would cry some more before you’d fall asleep.

Tomorrow could be the day on which you’d care.

Maybe.

Right now all you’d wanted to do was murder someone, then sleep, and also, empty the rest of your bladder.

Perhaps that was the only thing about tonight that brought you secret joy; the memory of squatting over your boss’s handbag to piss right into it. You had to stop in a scurry when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and didn’t want to be caught, but, if you had been, ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered.

You had resigned with immediate effect when you'd seen them.

Finding her unguarded handbag on your way out was exactly what she fucking deserved. You knew you'd probably regret it later, but for right now, it was all you fucking had.

The train stopped at Covent Garden, and it took a second for your body to get up to get out. Like the signals your eyes and ears picked up took longer to travel to the right parts of your brain, that then following signals took longer to travel from your brain to the right parts of your body.

You had to lift up your skirt, two fists grabbing at the tulle, to make sure your feet didn't get caught up as you stepped onto the platform.

With the increasingly annoying See It, Say It, Sorted repeating itself for the millionth time within the fourteen minutes you'd been on the tube, the doors beeped behind you before you heard them roll shut.

The platform felt empty, just a couple other people making their way towards the exit, and with your zest for life currently non-existent, the sensation of the wind from the tube leaving felt nice. So, you took a second, just stood there and thought to yourself how long it would take for it to become weird that you weren't moving.

There were just too many things to freak out over, far too much to completely overwhelm you, but it was almost like none of it was real. As if every single survival mechanism your body held within itself had switched on. They all made sure that the only thing you had going inside your brain was a low, constant hum. Nothing else.

It was almost like you weren't even there.

Like the whole evening had been a dream.

Like you didn't even really exist in this moment right now.

Yea. You were definitely dissociating.

You felt like a ghost a little.

One that had to pee, still. That motivated you enough to turn your head, tired heavy-lidded eyes reading the signs to follow them out.

Exit. To the lifts and stairs.

You were nearly home.

Home, where you were definitely 100 per cent going to beeline it straight from your front door right into bed.

Just that thought alone brought you back into yourself a little more, but it was just so you could tear up again. You felt the hot pinpricks behind your eyes and quickly shoved yourself out again.

No more crying, please.

You could just... float down the underground tunnels behind yourself. Follow your own footsteps out of the station. You knew were you lived. You would find yourself there later.

It was fine.

It was after the last theater rush, so for Covent Garden standards, it felt eerily quiet. Not that you were complaining. Waiting for the lifts whilst crushed between a bunch of tourists was the last thing you wanted right now.

But stepping into an empty lift with just one other person stepping in behind you, seeing just a few people step out on the other side, felt weird too.

Especially when you looked, and you saw that the one other person was the handsome stranger from your carriage. He'd apparently gotten off too, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed.

You were wearing a dirty wedding dress. Had black marks all over your face, all over your hands.

He looked fucking stunning. All prim and proper. Vintage-looking tweed green suit. Olive-y green. Gorgeous and well put together, the literal exact opposite from you in your current state. Like, sure, his curls were a little messy, but it seemed part of his look.

As the lift doors closed behind you, the stranger gave you a polite nod accompanied by a tight lipped smile. And you would have returned it, would've made it a kind, well-mannered exchange of acknowledgement, but, you weren't really inside of your body, remember?

All you did was look at him a second, face all blank, and you only slightly noticed that the empathy in his eyes doubled right in front of you before you turned away. You turned and slumped against the side, head resting back, eyes scanning the ads but not really reading anything, and you wondered if these lifts ever got cleaned. If someone ever took a rag and some cleaning solution and wiped down all the panels. By the look of things, probably not.

What if that was your job?

Clean the Covent Garden tube station lifts every day. There were four of them, and you imagined they all could use a good scrub.

You honestly wouldn't mind a job like it. You needed a new job anyway, 't was close to home and you liked the sense of accomplishment cleaning something incredibly dirty gave you. Where you could really see the difference.

You were doing a stellar job at distracting yourself from the current situation you were in. Made sure to stay all the way out of your body. Made sure that this veil that separated you from the real world, that blurred the boundaries between what was real and what was not, made sure that it stayed in place.

You were so close to home.

Wanted to be there right this second.

Fuck, you were so tired.

Maybe your new job could be figuring out this whole teleportation thing. See if you could make that work for yourself.

You didn't realise that your eyes were staring at the man who stood near where the doors were meant to open when you reached ground floor. Just, comfortably locked at the shoulder seam of his jacket.

Even when he turned his head a little for a quick look before he took a small sip from a half empty water bottle, surely because he could sense your two bulging wet eyeballs burn into his back, you didn't move your eyes.

Felt too nice to keep them there.

But then, without warning, there was a sudden jolt. It shocked you right back into your body and you couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you. The lift had come to an abrupt halt, and the lights flickered for a moment before they settled into a dim glow.

Oh no.

“Oh no,” the barely audible sound of your voice surprised you. Your throat still felt thick from crying, and hearing it out loud just reminded you of it more.

“Is it stuck?”

For a second, you thought that maybe, you were wrong.

You made a mistake.

Clearly you weren't really with it right now, so you didn't really trust your senses currently. You didn't really know what was real and what wasn't and found it difficult to differentiate.

But then the guy who was in there with you looked around, and then lowered his head. By the way his eyes moved, you could tell he was trying to listen for something.

“Are we stuck?” you tried again, and his eyes shot up to look at you.

No answer.

Fuck.

A mix of emotions washed over you; disbelief, annoyance, a new good dose of self-pity along with a strong healthy pang of sheer panic.

Cute.

It was kind of exactly how you felt about an hour ago.

If only there was a handbag of someone you really hated to piss into to elevate the situation a little. It helped a lot before.

“I think we're stuck.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to hear and it immediately threw you for a loop.

A panic attack.

The whole ordeal.

Your heart quickened its pace, an unsettling sensation tightened your whole chest and your breathing picked up, became all shallow at a rapid rate. Before you knew it, the box you were now trapped in felt like it was shrinking around you and suddenly you were in a place of imminent danger.

You were inside a mortal trap, a tragedy waiting to happen.

You had to sit down.

But your knees were locked.

You didn't know if the moisture you felt on your face were tears or sweat.

Oh man, it was hot in there. Did this guy feel hot in there too? Jesus Christ, why were wedding gowns so fucking restricting?

You saw how the emergency button was pressed, just once. Sensible. And then this guy waited patiently as he listened to static coming from the little intercom below it.

Well, fuck that.

In your panic you kind of threw yourself at this emergency button and with frantic hands and shaking fingers, you pressed it over and over and over, until two big hands took hold of you and guided your arms down.

“It's OK, don't worry. Help will come,”

Those words meant nothing to you, no matter how kindly they were said.

“Hello?!” you shouted like anyone would hear you, eyes big and darting, and you scanned the rest of the lift for more buttons.

Your phone!

Of course.

You fished your phone out, panicked movements making you nearly drop it.

No service.

Why?!

“Hey, breathe,” the far-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good stranger tried, but you had already slung both arms over your head and got the jitters in your legs, desperately needing to move and so you started pacing.

Two small steps towards the back, two small steps back to where this guy was stood.

“This is just perfect, what the fuck, this is just–” the loud and sudden sob that escaped you made you slap a hand over your mouth.

“Calm down, we're safe, you need to–” he huffed a humourless laugh through his nostrils, all obvious nerves and tense uncomfortability. “You need to breathe,”

And he was right. You did need to breathe. You started feeling light-headed a little, felt your cheeks start to tingle, so you covered your face with both hands and squatted down, making the tulle skirt of your dress take up half the floorspace.

He joined you down there and held out his opened water bottle to you.

“Do you need some water?”

You didn't move your hands as you shook your head no.

“Okay, let me try that again. My name's Joe, I think you're having an anxiety attack, and I think you need some water. Here, have some water,”

“I don't want water.”

It was definitely sweat and tears. You felt clammy and cold but somehow uncomfortably hot at the same time.

“Breathe in, hey,” a finger got snapped in front of your face several times. That didn't do shit. “You're just breathing out, you've got to let air in too.”

And just for a second, the smallest fraction of a teeny tiny moment, everything suddenly cleared up in your mind. Comfort and ease took over and you felt... well, nothing.

Felt like drifting.

You felt everything flush down your body, all the way from your face right into your toes until it was all gone.

Just for a mere second, though.

“I'm fine,” you croaked before everything went slack. You lost your balance, your eyes rolled back and just like that, everything went dark.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” Joe muttered, moving forward from sitting on his haunches to pressing his knees into the fabric of your dress as he tried to reach for you in a flash.

He got you by the arm, his open water bottle terribly in the way, and his other hand managed to reach around your neck. He got to slowly lower you down, ease you towards the floor entirely unsure of what to do next.

What did he need to do next?!

He was trapped in a tube station lift, on a stop he didn't even need to get out of, with an unconscious runaway bride who'd quite clearly was having the absolutely worst day of her life ever.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Then, behind him, from the corner of the elevator, the intercom static picked up again and was followed by a crackly voice.

“Emergency services, how can we assist you?”

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @freckledjoes @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl @emma77645 @tlclick73

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[matchamilkislover]

White Horse, 2. (a.a.)

pairing: knight!abby x princess!reader

cw: fantasy!au, fem!reader, a tiny bit of blood mentioned, eventual displays of fighting and violence bc it’s fantasy, kind of slow burn?, tension, reader has an attitude, tall af!abby bc size difference, royalty!au, mentions of arranged marriages, some mentions of au politics, abby in armor is a warning in itself

synopsis: you are the youngest princess of the royal family that rules over your kingdom, Aphrynia. now a young adult, you’ve come of age in a tense time, and your personal protection is of utmost importance — which is why the resignation of your previous personal knight means a rushed reassignment ceremony with little to no preface. That being said, why does the name of your new knight sound so familiar?

word count: 3.67k

a/n: this is a kinda slow and really dialogue-heavy chapter but i’m still giggling and kicking my feet, i am so excited for the rest of the story omllll (it’s my own story i have to write it myself but i’m also delulu)

you can read part 1 here!

⊹ ⋆｡˚ ————————— 𓆩♡𓆪 —————————⊹ ⋆｡˚

Clapping resounded in the large room, but you paid the sound no attention. Yours and Abby’s gazes were still locked on each other, like you were caught in a dance to see who would break away first. Finally, she gently kissed the top of your hand and released it, standing to tower over you with her tall, built form. The simple kiss on your hand made your heart speed up unexplainably, and you swallowed and quickly pulled it down to your side, burying your hands in the skirts of your gown. Abby’s gaze, however, was still locked on you, and you looked down and then around the room to avoid her gaze. What in the world was going on?

Realizing that everyone else in the room had moved on from the ceremony and started milling about, you too decided that it was time to go, clearing your throat before stepping out of place to find Nina. Abby opened her mouth and looked like she was about to reach out and say something to you, but was interrupted by members of the court starting to swarm and try to steal her attention. Thank god, you thought to yourself, dashing away before court members could swarm you, too.

A hand suddenly fell on your shoulder as your eyes searched the room for your lady’s maid, and you cursed in your head, turning to see which Lord or Lady (or worse, daughter or son) had gotten their claws into you. You would’ve breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that it was one of your own siblings if it wasn’t George.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’d just seen a ghost, little sister,” he teased, that shit-eating grin of his spreading across his face. You just rolled your eyes and turned to face him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, George,” you lied, brushing his hand off your shoulder and crossing your arms. He laughed.

“Oh sure. She’s the one you always attended lessons with, right? Yeah, she was fun,” he replied casually.

“If by fun you mean insufferable, then sure,” you retorted. “Please, you only liked her because she supported your shenanigans.”

He lifted his hands humorously. “Hey, you got me there. It’s nice to feel appreciated once in a while.” You sighed and started visually searching the room again, hangover still leaving you in a mood not quite fit for George’s lovely personality.

“I’m sure it is. But you’re a big boy, so if you could entertain yourself so I can get away from this lovely conversation, that would be great,” you finally huffed and quickly strode away, back on the hunt for Nina. Finding her meant finding breakfast and a nice rant session. And, you thought as your head throbbed again, a lot of water.

“There you are!” A familiar voice squealed as you moved about the cavernous room. You instantly smiled.

“Oh, Nora, thank goodness,” you squealed back as your eyes landed on your friend approaching just from your left. The two of you met with joining hands, squeezing comfortably.

“Are you alright? You looked entirely shocked to see Knight Anderson up there,” Nora inquired, her brows furrowing in concern. You sighed for what felt like the millionth time on this already exhausting day.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t really expect to see her, that’s all,” you replied, trying your best to brush off the way your heart pounded in your chest. You really wished it would stop that. Nora suppressed a knowing smile.

“She’s certainly changed a lot, hasn’t she,” Nora noted with waggling eyebrows.

“Nora,” you gasped, fighting the urge to smile with her. “You know good and well my opinion of her, so you can stop that now!” Though it felt genuine to you, your retort was unconvincing, and Nora simply rolled her eyes.

“Are you seriously still hung up on that? It’s been what, 8 years?”

“9,” you interrupted. “It’s been 9.” Nora rolled her eyes again.

“Close enough. If you want to hold a grudge, that’s fine by me, but I am going to enjoy this while I can,” she teased, sauntering away as you gasped again and feigned reaching out to hit her playfully as she walked away.

Finally, you spotted Nina waiting patiently for you near the edge of the room and let out a breath of relief. You approached her quickly, and her face lit up as you neared, feeling much less awkward when she was with you rather than being alone as a lady’s maid without her princess. You easily hooked your elbow with hers as you took a spot next to her, desperate to seem too occupied to socialize with anyone else.

“Can we please get out of here?” You begged through the clenched teeth of your plastered smile, nodding gracefully to people who passed you like nothing was wrong. Nina almost giggled.

“Yes of course, princess,” she replied, the two of you stepping forward and turning to the door.

“Why does everyone keep giggling at me?” You questioned, again through clenched teeth.

“Excuse me for my bluntness, but your reaction to Knight Anderson was quite entertaining,” she replied, still suppressing giggles.

“My reaction? What reaction?! I was under the impression my face was quite neutral, thank you!” You replied in a way that was almost offended.

“You just seemed quite surprised to see her, is all,” Nina explained gently. “I highly doubt someone who doesn’t know you well would have noticed, princess,” she reassured as the pair of you finally approached the large doors that would lead you out of this blasted throne room.

“It’s not my fault no one told me she of all people would be my new knight! You would be caught off-guard too if you were me!” You retorted, trying to keep your voice to a whisper despite your urge to raise it.

“All I’m saying, princess, is that-” Nina’s reply was cut off by a voice ringing out over the chatter of the crowd to you.

–

In terms of the aftermath of the ceremony for Abby, it was certainly a wave of attention — attention she didn’t want even one bit, especially when the only person she really wanted to talk to was you. Judging by your reaction, you certainly hadn’t been expecting to see her. Hell, she hadn’t been expecting to see you either until maybe 10 days ago. But it seemed like no one had bothered to inform you that she would be your new knight.

“Knight Anderson?” a voice asked, bringing Abby out of her thoughts and back to the many people surrounding her in the throne room.

“Hmm?” She replied, clearly having zoned out and not heard whatever the woman had said. She was quite a sight to take in, with gaudy clothing and a tight, pointed face. The woman smiled, but it looked more like a sneer.

“Oh, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lady Ulfrid, I’m new here as well. I was just wondering, Queen Arabella spoke quite highly of your accomplishments, and it must be so for you to be a personal knight for her youngest daughter. What might these so-called accomplishments be, I might ask?” Lady Ulfried sneer-smiled again, and this time, Abby couldn’t help but feel like Abby saw the expressions just as they were. She was questioning her.

Raising an eyebrow, Abby let a smirk dance on the corners of her mouth and adjusted her stance. “Well, I was top of my class in training, but that’s not the answer you’re looking for, is it? So what would you like to hear about? The battles I led in our recent land conflicts with Chryiont? Or the ones I led 2 years ago in Dungard? Or was it my successful takedown of the great Pirate Duke? You’ll need to be more specific, my lady,” Abby replied with a knowing smile, satisfied by the woman’s widening eyes.

“Oh, well, I- I just meant, um-, well,” Lady Ulfrid floundered, and it satisfied something a little sadistic within Abby. She was tired of being questioned because of her age, much less her gender, and it felt nice to make people who questioned her then question themselves instead.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, cutting off the woman and leaning down to her height. “I think I know exactly what you mean.” She smirked, and stood back to full height as Lady Ulfrid’s face reddened and she sped away from the knight, muttering something incoherent under her breath.

Turning to scan the rest of the room with her hands clasped behind her back, Abby suddenly realized that talking to Lady Ulfrid had made her lose sight of you. Last she saw, you were talking with one of your court friends — Nora, was it? — and now you had completely disappeared. Something about this felt oddly familiar. Right as she thought she caught a flash of your dress — god, that dress made you look something unearthly — another person tapped on her arm, and she nearly groaned before turning and seeing who it was.

“Long time no see, huh Anderson?” George asked with a sheepish grin, pulling her in for a one-handed hug. Abby grinned back and returned the hug gladly.

“Too long,” she replied easily. “But you know, I don’t think I can condone your shenanigans now,” she continued teasingly. George laughed with a wide, open mouth, patting Abby on the arm.

“Yeah, well, I’ll just have to figure out a way around you,” he replied jokingly.

Abby chuckled and shook her head. Suddenly remembering that she had been looking for you, she snapped to attention, scanning the room quickly. Finally, she spotted you nearing the exit with your lady’s maid, and she patted George on the arm as a farewell before starting after you.

“Princess!” She called, nearly jogging across the room and swiping between different huddles of people. “Princess!”

—

Your smile dropped when you heard Abby calling after you. Shit. While you stood there trying to accept that Abby Anderson would be constantly on your heel from now on, Abby caught up, slowing to stop and face you. You looked at her, expecting her to say something, but she just stared back.

And you both kept staring.

Looking at her felt like seeing a dear old friend and someone entirely foreign to you all at the same time. Like two winds hitting you from opposite directions, pushing the breath out of your lungs and filling them back up all in one motion. She was so different but so familiar, it made you want to both run away and never leave her presence all at once. You didn’t even realize you were staring, studying her like art in a museum, until Nina loudly cleared her throat beside you.

Whoops.

You came to a start and also cleared your throat awkwardly, nodding to Abby as a delayed greeting as you shared an uncomfortable look with Nina. “Well, uh…I, we…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You remarked awkwardly. This was already going terribly.

“It has,” Abby confirmed with a nod. You pursed your lips.

“Well, uh, I suppose we should get going, shouldn’t we, princess?” Nina asked timidly, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, yes, of course,” you replied quickly, nodding and turning with Nina to return on course to your chambers.

You grimaced uncomfortably in Nina’s direction, and she returned the look apologetically. Abby looked like she had wanted to say something else, but instead bit her tongue and followed the two of you silently. The walk through the corridors was painfully quiet, you unconsciously straining to listen to the sound of Abby’s footsteps behind your own, hyper aware of her proximity to you. For someone who called her despicable the last time you had seen each other, you were certainly strangely invested in even the smallest movements of Abby Anderson.

Once you and Nina were safely inside your chambers, with Abby standing in place just outside your door, you flopped into a chair, rubbing your forehead. “This day has got to be some twisted sort of dream,” you moaned, slipping off your shoes one at a time. Nina simply suppressed a giggle and shushed you.

“These walls are not as thick as you wish them to be,” she reminded you in a hushed voice, perching in a chair adjacent to yours while she awaited your breakfast request. You pouted and sighed.

“I truly don’t understand why nobody told me she would be my new knight! I mean, she disappeared the day after we had our millionth argument 9 years ago, and now, out of the blue, she’s going to be right behind me 24/7? Guarding me? Protecting me like someone’s out for my blood? It’s just…fucking insane!” You whisper-yell, frustration bubbling over now that it was just you and Nina. Well, and Abby, waiting just outside the door.

Nina sighed, knowing that she should try to make you feel better, even though she couldn’t help but agree with how you felt. “The queen does what she does for a reason, I’m sure. With you being young and the whispers I hear from the other servants, I’m not surprised she wants a trusted eye on you,” she replies in a quiet voice. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, nodding.

“I know, I know. It’s just frustrating that not a single soul ever bothers to tell me anything. I mean, I would have really liked a warning that the girl I basically grew up with was not only returning to the palace as a knight, but my personal knight, and, to make matters worse, she looks like—” you gesture wildly to the door, “—that! How am I supposed to deal with that!?” you exclaim, your whisper lifting a little. Nina starts giggling uncontrollably, and after a minute you join her, if only because of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“I think,” Nina says, taking a deep breath once her giggles finally subside, “that some breakfast and a lot of water might help make you feel better, hmm? Maybe a tonic from Dr. Anderson?” Nina offers kindly.

“Yes, please, you’re a saint, Nina,” you reply, rubbing your forehead again as the throbbing pushes forward. “But, no tonic, actually, please—I can’t handle being embarrassed by asking Abby’s father for a hangover cure the first day she returns, I think I might keel over from sheer embarrassment,” you finish with a groan. Nina chuckles and nods, standing from her perch.

“Whatever you say, princess,” she says with a pat on your shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.” With that, she pushes the door open and exits the room, mumbling an awkward greeting to Abby that makes you cringe from sheer discomfort.

Sighing, you look around at the chaos that is your room after this morning’s rushed preparation activities, and decide that the least you can do even with this raging hangover is make your bed. You stand determinedly and approach the bed, pulling back layer after layer neatly to then arrange each one on top of the last. It’s a bit awkward with the shuffling of your dramatic skirt around the edge of the opulent bed frame, but you manage to make it work.

You’re tucking in the last corner of your many blankets when an unfamiliar knock on the door catches you off guard, and you get stuck pulling your hand out from beneath the mattress. You pull harder and harder, gritting your teeth and kicking yourself mentally for the ridiculousness of it all. Stupid fucking mattress, you groan mentally as you pull, why is this thing so goddamn heavy!? With one exceptionally strong pull, your hand rips free from its feather-filled prison, only for the momentum to send you falling backwards into a heavy sofa behind you, the collision making a crashing sound that mixes oh so wonderfully with the surprised shriek that leaves your mouth. You catch yourself just barely on an arm of the sofa, but have no time to process what just happened when Abby comes barging into the room, eyes wide as she searches for you.

Just perfect.

You both stare at each other like deer in headlights when your eyes meet, unsure of what to do. It’s Abby who breaks the silence first.

“Are you alright, princess?” She asks in a concerned tone, walking over to you gingerly. Her large form seems almost unnatural in your space, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the proportions.

“Um, yes, I’m fine, I just…fell,” you explain awkwardly, cheeks going pink. You stand straight and pull your hand off the sofa arm, hissing quietly when the friction stings on your pointer finger. Looking down to inspect it, you notice a long splinter shoved inside of the skin and grimace.

“You just fell?” Abby asks quizzically, raising an eyebrow as she eyes the splinter.

“Well, I, um— I got my hand stuck, and when I pulled it out, I guess I pulled too hard and just…fell…” Your voice trails off as you look from her to the bed and back to your hand, touching the splinter gingerly and hissing again.

Abby nods, humming in understanding. “I see…do you need help, um, with that?” She asked, gesturing to the splinter.

“Oh no, I’ve—I’ve got it,” you reply casually, trying to hide the clenching of your jaw when you gently pull on the slice of wood. Abby opens her mouth to ask if she can help again, but you're already setting your jaw and pulling the splinter firmly, gasping at the more intense stinging when it slips out of your skin. A large bead of blood immediately forms on the spot, hinting to a stream, and your face pales at the sight as you bite your lip and look away, eyes searching for a handkerchief.

Your breath quickens in panic as you search, just the thought of the blood now seeping out of your finger making your breath quicken and your heartbeat skyrocket. A warm hand on yours and the feeling of a handkerchief being dabbed on your finger pulls you out of your growing panic, and you look to see Abby ever so gently holding your hand in one of your own while the other dabs the blood from your finger with a handkerchief.

“I remember one time when we were 9, you fell and scraped your knee on the stone while we were running in the garden, and you were very nearly screaming,” Abby said suddenly as she looked at your finger. “I guess I was right to assume that fear hadn’t changed much,” she continued, chuckling. A breathy chuckle left your mouth in return, gaze still focused on her hands touching your own.

“I never did have the stomach for it, did I?” You responded quietly, a gentle smile dancing on your lips. “I guess some things never change.”

“Yes,” Abby agreed, “some things never really change, do they?” She spoke in nearly a whisper, eyes finally glancing up to meet yours. Your breath caught in your throat, heartbeat slowing as you gazed into the stormy blue of her eyes.

“I guess not,” you whispered.

The sudden rapt knocking of Nina’s small fist and her pushing the door into your room ripped both of you out of the trance you had been in, you grabbing the handkerchief and holding it to your finger while Abby’s hands dropped yours and she stood at attention. Her mouth opened like she was about to announce her arrival before she spotted the two of you standing unusually close, and her movement stopped, brows immediately furrowing in confusion.

“I— We—“ you started.

“She fell!” Abby nearly shouted, her expression unsure. “She fell and I heard the commotion, so I came in, and she, um, got a splinter,” she finished, gesturing toward your hand. You raised your handkerchief covered finger as proof, and Nina nodded slowly. You weren’t quite sure why you felt like you had been caught doing something wrong, but it certainly did, and you certainly weren’t sure how to feel about it.

Abby cleared her throat, and nodded to the still open door. “Well, um, I should…yeah,” she stuttered, nodding a goodbye to both of you before returning to her post outside of the door that she closed behind herself.

As soon as the latch clicked, Nina’s eyes were on you like a hawk, and you were retreating back to where you had been sitting with your face in your hands. “Did I seriously just see that?” She asked incredulously, bringing a tray of food over with her and setting it on a small table. You nodded, face still in your hands, but you were quickly coaxed out by the smell of the food.

“I was just trying to make my stupid bed, and my stupid hand got stuck under the stupid mattress, and I fell pulling it out and got a splinter on my finger, and then it started bleeding when I pulled it out, and…yeah. That’s about it,” you poured the words out quickly, immediately feasting and downing large gulps of water when you finished. Nina simply nodded knowingly and watched, nibbling on a piece of toast as you ate.

“Y’know, that didn’t seem very despicable to me,” she remarked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, a mischievous grin growing on her face.

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, turning an annoyed glance at her. “Are you going to keep being like this? It was just an awkward situation,” you complained, shoving another piece of fruit in your mouth. Nina laughed and nodded.

“I’m sorry, princess, but it’s been just too easy,” she retorted, still laughing. You rolled your eyes, but inside, your heart still skipped a beat every once in a while, thinking about her calloused, warm hands encapsulating yours, and her deep eyes gazing into yours like nothing else existed in the world.

You seriously needed to distract yourself if you were going to survive this.

⊹ ⋆｡˚ ————————— 𓆩♡𓆪 —————————⊹ ⋆｡˚

taglist: @paqerings @katniiss @dummysimp011 @chocbaleine

[madockisser]

I just read your reasoning, and I totally understand. Madoc used to be my fav character at the start of the book, since he was a good dad and wanted the best for his children.

And Dain was introduced to the story. Became my fav character and we all know what happened at the coronation :')

dain greenbriar analysis! not that u asked but i did one of madoc so i’ll do one of dain since he’s super complex

i really liked dain too! he was totally mysterious, which was later revealed that he was more so manipulative and cunning. balekin says that dain is “surprisingly unsentimental” which is shocking coming from balekin of all ppl. since balekin believes it to be true, then imagine like a 10x worse version of balekin. we know dain is very smart, he is charming and manipulative, which are all qualities that balekin do not quite posses. (as seen in the lament of lutie loo)

dain truly did not play around when it came to things in the way of his coming into power. which shouldn’t come as a surprise since we know that dain was slowly poisoning eldred to make him weak and make him resign from being king. then obv what he did to the woman he sent love poems to (liriope) whom he poisoned alongside the fetus in her womb. all that just to assure his succession to the throne.

not to mention how he played poor 5ish yr old cardan. dude was beefing w a toddler! which again, he uses his elder brother charm to do, and his manipulative hand to persuade eldred to kick cardan out and cast asha out. (which makes me wonder if he had a personal grudge or something against asha ((maybe something she knew that he didn’t want eldred to know)) or if he was simply just killing 2 birds w one stone)

it’s fascinating to me that he killed liri despite caring for her sm. why do i think he cared for liri at all? because he was at a great risk to dally and play around with one of his fathers lovers/consorts. for someone who is so notoriously careful, he must’ve really grown to care for her, the same way nicasia came to care for locke!! ( i ADORE the parallels in lockes and his mothers relationships!)

but maybe dain caught on to her gancanagh/ love/charm speaking powers and was displeased enough to not really gaf when he administered poison to her and oakey.

while dain is a giant asshole, he really fascinated me. his actions at first were charming and humble, and from jude’s perspective, almost kind, and even someone she could look up to. but after jude fell out of favor with him, he was cold, cruel and calculating.

he even managed to skillfully manipulate his own spies into liking him, seeing as the ghost still served dain after his death by betraying jude (which wasn’t his fault). the roach and the bomb didn’t know of dains poisoning of liri, and even jude wasn’t allowed in on some of the spy work she was doing for dain.

and ofc when jude delivers the paper that says, “i know the provenance of blusher mushroom” dain, who is put on the spot, skillfully manipulates his spies yet again by claiming that “he”(could be any faerie that goes by “he” btw) was blackmailing orlagh.

furthermore, he says about balekin.

“he and i never got along. and yet i had hoped ….” purposefully not finishing his sentence so as to not reveal to his spies how truly unfeeling he was about his elder brother,balekin.

i wonder a lot of his plans for jude, i saw a theory that he was going to arrange jude in a marriage, and i have a few small ones of my own, but it’s super intriguing that he chose jude, the daughter of the very influential grand general (the man to stole half of the high kings army in twk lol) to use as a spy. makes me wonder what his plans were for madoc and for jude if madoc ever found out. because surely, as careful as he is, he would’ve had one.

ANYWAY sorry i kinda went on a tangent there but he’s such a cool character and while i def do not agree w his actions, i almost wish he stayed alive longer to be a more significant villain, but i am SO glad we got cute oakey pokey as a cute less evil replacement! and also more insights of what oak thinks of him in tpt and tsh!

holly black, despite dain and several other characters have short amounts of page time, managed to make dain such a great subtle villain! which is why i love her work so much. she slides in and incorporates little damning facts and details that could mean nothing, but could also have great significance!

lastly, i rly like doing character analyses so feel free to add on or send me characters or questions thru the ask thingy!!

[swiftsaltsweet]

Two Knives Chapter 2: Kyoshi- Responsibility and a New Promise

Characters: Rangi and Kyoshi (RoK characters tbh)

Pairing: Rangshi

Summary:

Things have been stressful for Kyoshi. First, she sang a poem and now the whole kitchen staff thinks it’s about Rangi, and is sure that there will be gossip. Then, Yun asks her to join him for the Fifth Nation treaty signing. Now Rangi’s acting strange. It’s becoming a bit much for Kyoshi’s small corner of the world.

(Canon Divergent AU- Kelsang wasn’t the one who heard the poem?….aka What if it took longer for them to realize Kyoshi was the Avatar?)

Other Sites: AO3 

A/N: “Ok so I finish chapter 1, now I’ll try to get chapter 2 done ASAP for next week :D” *gets possessed and cranks out 5 more chapters* ……………………ok y’all are getting this early o.o …..I may have scared myself with how fast I made these ;w; jaskldfjal 8U

__________________

The deadline for the Fifth Nation meeting was quickly drawing nearer. Everyone told her that it would be fine and there was nothing to worry about. Just stand there and be your usual, unnoticeable self!

Jianzhu apparently had gotten her a battle outfit to protect her. She would consider it thoughtful, and would’ve been happy…. If it wasn’t for the fact she knew he and Yun fought over her tagging along.

It was very apparent Jianzhu wasn’t happy with the turn of events, but he caved into Yun’s desire because he loved him. The same couldn’t go for the other “Kyoshi shouldn’t be coming with us” party member. 

Rangi had been, and still was, very vocal about Kyoshi not going. She’d never seen her friend so agitated in the two years they’d known each other.

She was even giving the Avatar a hard time!

“Are you disobeying your Avatar?” Yun asked during one of their repeated bouts. Each time he lost a little of his playfulness and it devolved more into a resigned sigh.

“No. I’m just voicing an opinion,” Rangi answered.

“Well I’m ignoring it.”

“Shame, it’s the only smart thing being said around here,” she shrugged nonchalantly. But her stomps as she left Kyoshi and Yun behind betrayed her demeanor.

Yun and Kyoshi could only stare wide-eyed at her as she left.

“She’s never talked back like that before,” Yun stared in amazement. The three would usually let loose when they were alone, but Rangi never acted that insubordinate towards him. Well no, that wasn’t accurate, she’d never acted insubordinate ever, the worst she did was maybe give him a slightly hard time.

“Maybe she’s just stressed?” Kyoshi offered. Kyoshi was feeling stressed as well. Between her poem and the whole Fifth Nation thing, she was having a hard time sleeping at night. It didn’t help that Rangi was acting strangely on top of it all. “Maybe I shouldn’t go?”

“No! No, please, I need you to go,” Yun grabbed Kyoshi’s hand pleadingly.

Kyoshi playfully swatted it away. “Alright, alright, calm down.”

Yun sighed, relieved. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe she is stressed….”

“Because of the Fifth Nation?” Kyoshi asked. Maybe he had some insight about Rangi, the girl had been mostly avoiding her for the past few days. And if she wasn’t, she was uncharacteristically silent. She didn’t even reprimand her when Kyoshi was late one day!

 “No I think it’s because of-” he stopped himself and glanced at Kyoshi. “I mean, yes I think that’s it.” 

Kyoshi drummed her fingers on her knee, not buying his tone. She couldn't help but wonder if both of her friends were hiding something from her.

_________

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The rain outside had been tapping at her window for hours now.

Tomorrow was the day. The day they’d fly and sail out to meet with the Fifth Nation, and Kyoshi couldn’t sleep. Her eyes felt like they were being pried open by some external force. That external force being her own anxiety. Wait, maybe that was something more internal? Great, another thing to think about and keep her up!

She tossed and turned, but nothing could settle the earthquake inside her being. 

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

If only the rain would stop, maybe then she’d feel more restful?

Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap.

Great now the rain is picking up. She thought.

Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP TAP TAP!

Kyoshi shot up out of bed. That wasn’t the rain, that was her door!

W-who could be here at this hour? She thought as she grabbed her night robe and threw it on over her sleep clothes. 

When she opened the door, she was met with something both familiar and unfamiliar. It was Rangi, but she wasn’t in her usual spiked armor. Instead she sported a sleeveless white tunic and her red trousers. It was strange seeing her like this, the spikes had almost felt like they were a part of Rangi. It was hard to separate the two.

For once, Kyoshi was able to see how well defined her muscles were, now that the shell had been stripped away. As well as the curves that were once hidden as well-

Kyoshi shot her eyes to Rangi’s face as fast as possible, to keep herself from ogling at her. 

Rangi bore the same stern expression, looked Kyoshi up and down once, and then looked away. 

“Rangi, what’s going on-gah!” 

Rangi shoved something into Kyoshi’s arms. “To protect your hands…” She mumbled. Then she promptly turned and walked away.

Kyoshi stared after her until her figure had turned the corner and left. Then she finally looked down at what Rangi had given her. It was a box. 

Kyoshi slowly opened the present, inside there was a pair of high quality leather gauntlets. The sight of them caused Kyoshi’s throat to sting, and her chest to heat up.

She closed the door to her room, and held the gloves close to her chest, as she finally and slowly drifted away into a shallow sleep.

_____

Kyoshi was a bundle of nerves. Being surrounded by so many daofei set her on edge. Well, it’d set anyone on edge she’d suppose. She wondered if Yun and Rangi were as nervous as she felt. Rangi seemed perfectly composed, yet intimidating, as usual. Yun was working his charm with a nice fake smile. 

Kyoshi looked around and saw all the “servants” that were sneaking in and out. They were the kidnapped villagers. 

Kyoshi started to violently shake looking at all the hostages. Then she looked at her food, and wondered if it had been poisoned. It took all her effort to keep her breath quiet and even.

Rangi was right, she shouldn’t have come. She was nothing more than a liability. What was she thinking? 

She couldn’t bear to turn to Rangi, who was seated next to her. Couldn’t bear to look her in the eye and see Rangi respond with an “I told you so.” 

So instead, she sat there shaking. On the verge of hyperventilating.

Until she felt something warm clasp her hand. 

Kyoshi looked down, it was Rangi's hand, laying over top of hers. Kyoshi could feel pulses of warmth coming through her double layers of gloves, the top being generic snow gloves and the bottom layer being the ones Rangi gave her.

Kyoshi found the courage to look at Rangi's face, and instead of seeing the same stoic expression or one of reprimand…. She saw concern. Just slightly, only softened just enough for Kyoshi to notice.

Rangi squeezed Kyoshi's hand once. Stay strong. 

Kyoshi's response was to readjust her fingers so that they would interlace, hoping to be completely entangled by the warmth. By the courage Rangi was sending to her.

She thought she heard a small gasp come from Rangi, but at that moment there was a big uproar of cheers coming from Yun's pai sho section.

Kyoshi and Rangi turned their attention back to the party, hand in hand. They stayed like that….. 

Until Takaga decided to air Kuruk’s team's dirty laundry.

_________________

Kyoshi found herself in a new form of torture. Rangi was helping Kyoshi strip her armor off. Or really Rangi was doing it all herself, while Kyoshi stood there like a lump on a log. 

It probably wouldn't have bothered Kyoshi too much in any other circumstance, but Rangi was wearing a thin cotton shift and her hair was down for once. Which meant that Kyoshi could see a lot more of her body than she could previously.

She could see every flex Rangi's muscle made as she removed each armor piece. She could see how her hair waterfall off and caressed her strong shoulders. How the cotton clothing hugged her-

“You can't sleep in that get up. Especially not the armor,” Rangi said. Kyoshi barely registered the words, she found herself too busy gawking at Rangi’s figure.

“Shouldn't you be sleeping with Yun?” Kyoshi asked, not really thinking of how she was phrasing her question.

Rangi’s head turned so fast she almost snapped her own neck. 

“You know what I mean,” Kyoshi said.

The redness faded from Rangi’s ears as quickly as it came. “The Avatar and Master Jianzhu are reviewing strategy. Master Amak only ever sleeps in ten-minute intervals throughout the day, so he and the most experienced guardsmen will keep watch. The order is that everyone else should be well-rested for tomorrow.”

The duo settled beneath their furs. They laid there in silence, Kyoshi unable to fall asleep due to the sound of Rangi's breathing. She was so close. And the heat she radiated under the shared blanket was so warm. She tried to keep her body still, afraid of it moving closer towards her friend than she should, but found herself shifting every so often.  

She needed a distraction, and right as she was about to ramble about what Tagaka had said about their family, Rangi spoke up.

“Why didn't you listen?” Rangi whispered.

“What?” Kyoshi's eyes widened and chanced turning over. She stared at Rangi’s back, she wasn't sure if she heard her correctly.

“Why didn't you listen to me?” Rangi repeated, just a little louder this time.

Kyoshi settled to lay back on her back and stared up at the tent's ceiling. She didn’t have an answer that she knew Rangi wouldn’t call “stupid.” That she made a promise to Yun first. That she was afraid she wouldn’t see Rangi again, and was willing to put her life at risk to get as much time with her as possible. You know, totally normal friend things.

And she really didn’t want Rangi to say “I told you so,”..... so she decided to play dumb instead. “I don't know what you mean.” 

Something soft hit her in the face. Kyoshi looked over when the object was removed from her field of view, Rangi had hit her in the face with her pillow. Kyoshi's breath hitched when she realized their faces were only a few inches apart.

Rangi raised her pillow to strike again. “You know what I mean! Don't act like you only have rocks in that head of yours!”

Staring at Rangi’s disgruntled face, and her apparently thinking a pillow fight was the best way to punish Kyoshi….. Well… Kyoshi couldn't help the burble of laughter that escaped her lips. It only got louder when Rangi hit her again.

“I-it's not funny!” Rangi cried as she kept hitting Kyoshi with the pillow. Kyoshi just laughed harder with each hit.

“S-stop it!” Kyoshi cried, laughing with tears in her eyes. She reached over to grab the pillow from Rangi's hand.

“K-Kyoshi! Stop it!” Kyoshi felt Rangi grab hold of the front of her lapel and attempted to push her, but Kyoshi already had the pillow in her hand.

Kyoshi laughed. “But you're the one who…started…it.” In the tussle, her and Rangi had gotten closer, they were now nose to nose. Eyes boring into each other. Their breathing tickled each other's faces. Rangi’s flowery scent overtook Kyoshi's senses and she was starting to lose herself in it.

“Kyoshi….” Rangi murmured. Her face was red, and her eyes shifted away from Kyoshi's, shifted downwards.

Ashamed? Uncomfortable? Kyoshi couldn’t tell why she broke the eye contact. Kyoshi gulped, her heart was in overdrive. There was no way this was good for her health.

Kyoshi felt Rangi's grasp on her and the pillow loosen, and Kyoshi took her opportunity to turn back over, hugging her side of the sleeping quarters as much as possible.

“W-woops! S-sorry about that,” she tried to play it off nonchalantly, like a coward. “Sorry for messing around, we should get to sleep. Big day tomorrow!” Her voice shook, she knew her voice shook. But it was the best she could do to keep her cool. 

She laid there for a good while, and wondered if Rangi had fallen asleep.

Then, Kyoshi felt two hands and a forehead press up against her back. “You have my pillow, stupid.”

Kyoshi snapped her arm and threw the pillow back to Rangi’s side. She must've overshot it or something, because Rangi didn't make a move for it. Instead, she could feel the firebender snuggle closer into Kyoshi’s back, her knees bumping against the back of Kyoshi’s own; and then the rest of her body melded into her shortly after. Rangi’s breathing slowed to a crawl, until Kyoshi was sure she'd fallen asleep. 

Kyoshi did not move, afraid of disturbing the sleeping girl pressed up against her, who surely had a lapse in judgment. Instead she enjoyed the way Rangi’s body heated her own, and a different kind of warmth settled in her stomach and chest and that didn’t originate from the hearth that was next to her.

Kyoshi didn't go cold that night, nor did she get any sleep.

____

Kyoshi took a hard tumble down the iceberg’s mountainous terrain. She had just gotten free of a waterbender who tried to pull her down into the iceberg, but they hadn’t made their hole big enough for her. So she was able to break free with a swift kick to the face. Unfortunately, when she broke free she fell over the side of the icy cliff.

Kyoshi wobbled as she stood up, she saw Tagaka with Yun, he was encased in ice. A wave of fury rolled over here. Kelsang was injured, Yun was kidnapped, and Rangi……she didn’t want to think about what happened to Rangi. Unlike Kyoshi, Rangi, and a lot of the other soldiers had been pulled down into the iceberg by the waterbenders. Kyoshi tried to tell herself that she was fine, she’d make it out of the iceberg. She was Rangi, she could do anything! Plus, she was with Hei-Ran and Jianzhu. Surely she would be fine….. Right?

Kyoshi shook her head. Right now, all she saw was the woman who was the cause of all her grief. And she would make her pay.

“Give him back,” Kyoshi gasped. She gripped her side with one hand, and had the other extended out. As if trying to reach for Yun despite his distance. 

Tagaka put a boot on the ice encasing Yun, and leaned on her knee. “The colossus speaks,” she said, smiling. She watched patiently as Kyoshi slowly staggered towards her. For someone who was wary of Kyoshi’s height at first, she seemed well at ease now that Kyoshi was injured. 

Kyoshi swore at the pain in her body, the tumble she took down the iceberg had hurt her more than she thought. But it was nothing, Yun meant more to the world than her cracked ribs. Her fingers flexed instinctively towards Yun, and felt a pull. 

“Give him back. Now.” She meant to sound angry and desperate, but instead she came across as pitiful and hopeless as she felt inside. She wasn’t sure if Yun could breathe in there. Kelsang had gotten hurt because of Tagaka’s ice spikes too. She wasn’t sure if Rangi was alive…..

Rage was swelling inside her. This woman was taking everything she held dear.

“Eh,” Takaga said, looking down at Yun. “I saw what I needed to see in the boy’s eyes. He’s worth more as a hostage than an Avatar, trust me.” She made a motion to shove Yun off the side with her foot, but was stopped by a concussive blow to the face. 

Kyoshi didn’t know how she did it, but while Tagaka had briefly looked away, Kyoshi had found the energy to close the distance between them and landed a dirty blow on the daofei. 

Kyoshi followed up the punch by tackling Tagaka to the ground, and proceeded to unleash a barrage of punches. They were so powerful it was almost like a shockwave, it blew apart her snow gloves, only the leather gauntlets beneath could withstand the blows. The blows sent cracks through the ice both under Tagaka and in Yun’s prison.

“What-guh- are you?” Tagaka gasped through a brief reprieve where Kyoshi's fists landed on her shoulders rather than her face. Kyoshi’s response was her own gasping breath as she didn’t let up.

Kyoshi felt a glow of light flash over her eyes, and the prison next to Yun burst open with a glow of its own. He’d figured out a way to waterbend out of his prison. 

Yun briefly looked at Kyoshi but his attention had quickly been captured by some of Tagaka’s nearby men. Kyoshi didn’t take her attention off of Tagaka for one second. This time, each hit felt like the earth was shaking beneath her. A push every time she brought her fist down, a pull everytime she brought it back. 

Yun used the rock glove, what little earth he had, to fend off the oncoming attackers. He dropped down into a deep stance, and pushed his earth out at his targets as hard as he could while Kyoshi raised her fist back for another big blow against Tagaka. Just as the two earthbenders enacted their next move, the earth shook with the intensity of the earthquake, and sheets of the seabed rose up from the sea. 

Several ships were taken out, but a lot of the remaining ships maneuver their way around the sudden rocky terrain. 

Kyosh brought her fist down onto Tagaka, but ended up whiffing the air instead as she felt a water whip hit her in the side. It knocked her a few feet away and Kyoshi hit the ground hard.

For a moment, she thought maybe Tagaka had done it to her, but when Kyoshi looked back, she realized it was one of Tagaka’s guards who’d somehow snuck by Yun. The man raised his arms and water over his head, the water turning into an ice spike, and aimed it at Kyoshi.

Kyoshi tried to rise to her feet, but felt overwhelming exhaustion as she attempted to do so, her limbs falling dead beside her. All she could do was look up, and wait for her head to join them.

“Kyoshi!” heard a familiar voice cry out to her. A giant fireball stopped the waterbender in his tracks and knocked him back. Rangi had come to the rescue. Just in time for Kyoshi’s vision to start to waver, and the cold to seep into her, as well as relief.

“You did good, kid,” said a man with a husky voice and an accent like Master Amak’s. “They’ll be telling stories about this for a long time.”

Kyoshi tried to turn, afraid another waterbender had snuck up on her, but the effort was too great for her. Her eyes became heavy as she sunk down into the ice. The last thing she saw was Rangi’s bleeding face as she came running to her, screaming her name over and over. 

___________________

It was warm. Way too warm for it to be the iceberg she was on. Kyoshi opened her eyes to see a familiar brown ceiling. She was back in Yokoya.

“Kyoshi!” A familiar voice cried. Rangi’s face came into view. “You're awake! Are you feeling alright?”

Her face was creased with worry, she had a gourd in her hand.

Kyoshi tried to speak but all that came out was a rasp. Rangi instantly put the gord to Kyoshi's lips.

“What happened?” She asked when she finally felt she'd be able to speak without coughing. “Where's Yun?”

She could have sworn he had been freed, but if his personal bodyguard was here then maybe-

“He's fine,” Rangi replied in a sullen tone. “Master Jianzhu and my mother are with him. He’s plenty guarded. Yun ordered me to be here to make sure you were alright.”

Kyoshi figured Rangi was upset that she got booted out here, stuck with Kyoshi, unable to perform her real duties.

“Sorry, you should be with him instead of me.” Guilt rose inside Kyoshi. She’d been nothing but trouble for Rangi since this whole mess started. She wondered how she was ever going to repay her friend.

“Yeah you better be sorry,” she stood up from her chair. “Think of yourself for a change!” She was yelling at Kyoshi now.

Kyoshi stared at her wide eyed. 

“You've been asleep for three days, Kyoshi! Three days! Do you know how worried I was?” Rangi’s chest heaved as her voice wavered. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Was all Kyoshi could strangle out under Rangi’s heated gaze.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up!” her voice cracked, and tears were welling in her eyes as she collapsed back in her chair. “How could you be so reckless?”

Kyoshi felt dizzy, the change in Rangi’s emotions over the past few weeks had been too drastic and it was too soon after waking up. She scrambled to sit up more, and leaned over and cupped Rangi’s cheek with a hand, forgetting if she was violating Fire Nation decorum or not.

“Oh….” Rangi gasped, as Kyoshi wiped the tears from her eye. She brought one of her own hands up to hold Kyoshi’s hand in place, as she closed her eyes and leaned into the touch.

“Rangi, I’m sorry,” Kyoshi started. “You were right, I shouldn’t have gone. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.”

Rangi made a sharp noise as she inhaled, and moved her head to the side so Kyoshi's hand covered her mouth. “T-take responsibility, you idiot!” she sobbed.

Kyoshi’s eyes swirled, she didn’t know what Rangi meant by that, but decided to roll with it. “A-alright…. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, without question!”

Another sharp inhalation. “You promise?” She finally opened her tear-filled eyes and looked at Kyoshi.

“Promise,” Kyoshi said, smiling at her…and the other three Rangi’s that somehow joined.

Kyoshi’s head suddenly felt very heavy, and she briefly wondered if she had gotten up too fast. She didn’t really have time to think as her head hit the pillow, and she heard Rangi calling her name again.

_____________________

A/N: I know I wrote out the “Let’s talk about your mom’s murders! :D” scene ;w; I didn’t want to, but I needed to add the other convo in (even though Rangi didn’t get her answer) and it just wouldn’t have flowed if I tried to squeeze both in. Hopefully we can get that convo in at a later date :’D

Anyway, fun fact! This was supposed to be chapter one! :’D The Tagaka scene was the first thing I wrote, then after Kyoshi collapsed it was supposed to be a flashback/dream of when she sang the poem, and then it ends with her waking up with Rangi next to her (and the intent of hinting that Rangi heard the poem).......and then I changed how I wanted things to go! :D I like the new order but….yeah…. Fun fact! 8U

[gunraekae]

love transcending time - aka ikevamp unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: dont mind me just leaving my cave to post this

trust i have a headcanon style post in the works and uploaded sometime in the next week or so, i'm just a bit overwhelmed with term papers and stuff sorryyy

enjoy and have a wonderful day dear

Chapter II: The Banquet

At the foot of the staircase was the mysterious gentleman I encountered at the Louvre. He gave a pointed glance to the men. At the sight of him, a wave of relief surged through me and I ran down the staircase towards him. 

“It’s you!” I hurried down and stopped short in front of him. Suddenly remembering my composure, I clarified the situation, “Pardon, but do you remember me? We met in front of the ‘Coronation of Napoleon’ and you helped me.” 

 I was met with a warm smile, “Of course I remember you.” Alright, I can ask him about an exit—any exit—and I can get a ride back to my aunt. 

Before I could ask him for directions, my saviour “Leon,” stepped in between us. “She says she came here through your door. Did you bring her?” His tone, and the way he hid me from the prying eyes of everyone, all of it feels as if he was… protecting me. 

“I did not. I can give you my oath if you wish,” the gentleman mused, “her arrival is just as surprising to me.” 

“Then how did she get here?” Although the men didn’t seem hostile, what they were talking about still made me uneasy. What did they mean by “his” door? And why did they talk about “my arrival” as if it was an impossible feat? Where even am I? I don’t understand at all. Something is very wrong here. I just need to get out. At the new wave of apprehension, I remember my aunt. She must be so worried. How long has it even been? I rummaged around my pocket for my phone. 2:50 pm. No signal. What is going on? 

I found the last ounce of courage I had and interjected, “You’ve been very kind, but I really can’t stay. I was supposed to meet up with someone. We’re still in the 1st arrondissement, yes? Where the Louvre is? That door there, does it lead outside?” I asked my questions rapidly before anyone could interrupt me. 

His expression turned difficult, “Hmm… I’m afraid the answers you seek will only confuse you more.” My pleading gaze met the gentleman’s golden eyes. “This isn’t the place for a long discussion, however. Would you join me for dinner, chère?” I asked a yes or no question. Any rationality left in my mind crumbled, and it seemed to show on my face, as the gentleman hurriedly added, “Tonight’s banquet is a rare occasion for us. But afterward, I will answer all your questions. S’il vous plait.” With a sigh, I resigned myself to his wishes. After all, if there was any person who knew my predicament, it was him. 

Having owned a travel blog, I’d been to many hotels, from the hidden gems to the 5-star establishments, I’d seen it all. The gentleman’s dining room was unlike anything I’d ever seen. A stretching room with a long, clothed table with fourteen high-backed wooden chairs framing it. The mahogany walls had intricate wooden carvings around the high ceiling, and a warm atmosphere coated the room with the chandeliers and the candelabras. Four men were already seated. 

The beautiful pianist with the sharp tongue sat at the far end, secluded from the others. He was true to his statement from before—he truly looked displeased in being here. 

Around the centre of the table sat two men beside each other. 

“Must’ve been something pretty important to keep us waiting here. One second longer and I would’ve left.” The first man’s voice was familiar, being the Englishman’s companion in the hallway I entered. His husky voice, with the Dutch accent, matched his appearance—domineering and brusque. He had slicked-back, brown hair and steely blue eyes with a cold expression. He donned a long grey coat, fastened with gold accessories on top of a dark blue sweater, layered over a neat white button-up; basically, what a sensible businessman would wear if he was born a century ago. His tall stature and strong build were noticeable, with him being the largest of the men so far. 

“Now, now. Getting angry about dinner is not going to make the food come out any faster.” The second man seemed the exact opposite, being much easier on the eyes. He had fluffy blonde hair, and even though the two had the same blue eyes, this man was so warm, you almost couldn’t tell. His dimpled smile was almost angelic. He wore a shorter dark brown coat with a yellow sweater on top of a white shirt, but the most attention-grabbing piece was his long yellow scarf loosely wrapped around him. He was somewhat smaller than his presumed brother. 

“I have to be angry for two, mijn broer,” the gruff one said. The two Dutch brothers seemed close despite being polar opposites. 

The kind brother’s eyes landed on me, and he gave a welcoming smile, “Who’s that? Do we have a guest? It’s nice to meet you!” 

My uneasiness was somewhat alleviated by his warm character. He looked like the paintings of the angels I’d seen in the musée. A few words from him make me feel like everything’s better. We need more people like him. 

The fourth man was sat a little ways away from everyone, head down and eyes studying the piece of tablecloth he was fiddling with. He looked slightly younger than the others, his innocent cherry eyes matched his auburn hair. He wore a sensible white button-up with a grey vest that had a red lapel. A golden button of an apple was stitched to the collar, giving his otherwise professional outfit an almost adorable finish. 

His gaze darted around the room, briefly meeting mine then quickly returning to the tablecloth, “Whoever you are, have you considered sitting down? There’s a queue behind you waiting to get in, you know.” His voice was light and airy with a crisp English accent. 

The Englishman’s chipper voice greeted the shy boy, “Newt, old boy, you do care!” 

He bristled, “Can you desist calling me that wretched—!” “Newt” placed his hands on the table, as though intending to stand up. 

A disciplinary clap sounded behind me. “That will be enough of that, you two. I require good manners at my table.” The gentleman gave everyone a warning look masked by his cordial smile. “Let’s be seated. There’s a few empty chairs, but we’ll have to start the toast without them.” The butler had already snuck into the kitchen, presumably preparing the dinner. The Englishman sat beside the gruff Dutch brother while “Leon” sat beside the shy boy. He gave me a warm glance as if reassuring me that I was safe here. I couldn’t muster up a smile, so instead I gave him a timid nod. Meanwhile, the gentleman gently placed a hand on my back and guided me to a seat beside his, which was at the head of the table. 

The various personalities together seemed as if they wouldn’t mesh well together, but surprisingly, with everyone seated down, it felt like they were all a family. 

“A vôtre santé!” The gentleman raised a glass filled with golden champagne in a toast. A chorus of toasts responded to him by the men. While most of the men kept drinking, the pianist took one sip before quickly placing down his glass. Not quite trusting the gentleman from his elusiveness, but wanting to be courteous, I pretended to take a sip instead. I was too wary. Too much didn’t make sense. It should be almost 3 in the afternoon, and yet I was having dinner in a strange mansion. I should have been at the Louvre with my aunt, and now I’m dining with seven strange men. Interrupting my thoughts, the butler brought out the first course. To say the food looked like a culinary masterpiece was doing it injustice. It was a classic French spread, the sort that I had at the hotels but somehow even better. Still, I remained wary and didn’t make a move. Instead, I turned my attention to my companions. Who are all these men? They seemed normal, if not odd, but their appearances were so unusual. And they were all from different countries, so was this an international meeting of some kind? They don’t seem to be friends, but it felt like there was an ambiguous intimacy between them all. The gentleman, noticing my uneasiness, inclined his glass my way. 

“Let us toast to tonight’s most glorious and miraculous encounter. Santé.” His alluring gaze was comforting, if not off-putting in its warmth. “...à la vôtre.” With such a direct toast, it was impolite not to respond in turn. I timidly raised my glass to his. He finished the rest of his champagne, locking his gaze with mine. Feeling guilty and slightly charmed, I took a small sip of mine. Unfortunately, it tasted wonderful. 

I turned back towards the food laid out in front of me. My stomach quietly grumbled; embarrassed, I looked around hoping no one noticed. Wishing to justify my hunger, I rationalized that it would be insulting if I didn’t eat. I tried the terrine. Pheasant with fresh basil. And it tasted as exquisite as it looked. The bisque was delicious too. You can taste the crab. It’s thickened just right! I closed my eyes. Whoever made this food should be as famous as Gordon Ramsay. My increasing satisfaction with the food was noticed by the gentleman, and awkwardly, I chirped, “My compliments to the chef.” The butler from earlier, who dutifully stood by the kitchen’s entry seemed to relax from his stiff composure. 

He chuckled, “he’ll be pleased to hear that.” Whether it was the champagne or his ardent smile, my nerves considerably eased. Maybe he’s just a harmless nobleman and I’m overthinking everything. Really, if you looked at this scene objectively, I was having a perfectly pleasant evening. Wasn’t this the sort of romantic adventure I was looking for in coming to Paris? 

At the gentleman’s words, the men’s amicable chatter was silenced. “You’ve outdone yourself again Sebastian.” His disarming charisma powered over the room. He looked over the men and said, “I believe we should take this opportunity to introduce ourselves to our guest. I will start us off. Everyone has taken to calling me Comte de Saint-Germain.” Comte? A whole count? Maybe that explains this old-word aura he has. “And once again, it’s a pleasure to meet you, chèrie.” 

“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine, Comte,” I mumbled, slightly flustered at his manners and my lack of it. I could feel the manor’s members’ eyes on me, and my face warmed at the attention. God, I’m making such a fool of myself. Le Comte de Saint-Germain next turned to his servant. 

“This hard-working butler and the chef of tonight’s excellent banquet is Sebastian,” he fondly introduced. The stern butler from earlier formally bowed. 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said. He spoke English with a faint Japanese accent. The butler Sebastian—how conveniently named. 

The Comte turned back towards me, “It occurs to me we haven’t heard your name yet. I’d be pleased to know it.” 

There can’t be any harm in telling them that. “I’m… MC,” I clumsily introduced myself. I avoided the eyes of everyone in the room, incredibly self-conscious and still apprehensive. 

“That’s such a pretty name,” the kind Dutch brother piped up. His angelic face, which was sat across from me, was the first to reply, “I wasn’t expecting someone like you to turn up here. I hope we can be friends.” I finally raised my head and met his eyes to be polite, and his expression looked relieved at that. “I’m Vincent van Gogh, I’m a painter. It’s really nice to meet you.” I almost choked on my spit. A painter… named Vincent van Gogh. Is this some kind of themed event? Hoping not to seem offensive at my clumsy actions, I mustered a smile back. He seemed too kind to deserve my stupidity. “And this is my little brother. Go on, Theo, introduce yourself.” 

“Vincent” gently nudged his brother, the gruff Dutch businessman. 

“Theodorus van Gogh. I’m an art dealer. Don’t confuse me with my brother.” 

“I’ll, uh, try my best.” They couldn’t be more opposite. I’m not confusing you two. “You’re not getting anything else from me. Introduction’s over.” To hammer in his point, he took a pocket watch from his coat and tapped it repeatedly, tap-tap-tap, to show that he had better things to do. How could Vincent be older? Theo had me pegged as the older brother with his seriousness. Realizing I was staring at the two of them in puzzlement, my gaze returned to the table. 

Sitting to the right of Theodorus was the shy boy, “Newt,” who was difficult to make eye contact with, the both of us too nervous. If he could’ve curled up into a ball to be swallowed up by the ground, he would have. That being said, doesn’t he live here? I had more of a reason to be afraid of him than he was of me. “I’m Isaac. Isaac Newton. I study physics.” 

“Nice to meet you… Isaac,” I choked out. A physicist named Isaac. They can’t possibly be serious. Despite the absurdity of this situation, I was still fearful of being deemed impolite. “Wait. Should that be ‘Sir Isaac—?’” 

Suddenly, one of the dining room windows burst open. To my surprise, a man climbed in from the outside. I flinched from my seat and quickly glanced around to gauge everyone’s reactions. To my surprise, not a single person looked even remotely startled. The man, who had dark hair and strikingly yellow eyes chuckled sheepishly as he struggled through the window. He had such an easygoing smile that betrayed his serious eyes. He had an old Taisho-style kimono, with a dark purple haori, black hakama, and an unbuttoned white shirt. “Well, well, would you look at that? I’m a little late, aren’t I?” He’d just about fully entered the room when his sleeve got stuck, “...In we go.” He pulled at it comically, his actions humorously exaggerated and ineffective. 

“God’s Truth, can’t you use a door?” Isaac sighed. 

“And keep everyone waiting? No, no, the window’s a much faster entrance.” He smiled, nonchalant about his sleeve still caught by the window. He caught my bewildered eyes. I sat back down, but couldn’t wrench my eyes away from the bizarre scene. “Oh, hello there, young one. Why, I’m happy to see you here. How’s your dinner been?” 

“It’s…good,” I sputtered out. 

“Isn’t it? Well, it’s a Sebas-kun meal, so you really can’t expect anything less. You wouldn’t believe how fast his cooking gets gobbled up here.” He nonchalantly mused and sat on Isaac’s right, who then slithered away from him. 

“Not to worry, you arrived just in time. We were just introducing ourselves to our new guest here.” 

“In that case, I’m Osamu Dazai, just a poor writer struggling to make his way in the world.” His eyes closed with his carefree smile, which made him all the more handsome. 

“Osamu Dazai. The writer. Okay.” I took a quick swig of my champagne. If I had to listen to the rest of these wild introductions I needed to be less sober. Should I have introduced myself as Marie Antoinette or something? I took a quick glance at the “van Gogh” brothers, who had started this odd chain of improv introductions. His smile seemed too innocent to be trying to fool me like this. Who the hell are these people? Is this some sort of prank? I glanced back at my now-empty glass. Was there something in my drink? 

Skipping several empty chairs was the beautiful and cold pianist I’d met earlier. The Englishman called him “Wolfie,” but I bet that’s probably short for—

“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Composer.” Called it. His character seemed the least to play along in whatever nonsense chain the others made up. Of course, the pianist would be called Mozart. 

“...Hello, Mozart,” two words I never thought I’d utter in my life. 

The cheeky Englishman from earlier, who was practically buzzing with excitement piped up, “I do believe I’m next! I’m Arthur Conan Doyle. Mystery writer.” I pursed my lips and looked down at the table, uncertain whether I should laugh or sigh. “And don’t call me Sir, just Arthur. As long as I get to call you MC.” I quickly glanced up at him, and his eyes twinkled with delight. He, I could see was capable of making up this joke. But then, did that mean everyone was lying to me? No, not lying. They have to be pseudonyms. I looked around once again at everyone. 

Vincent. 

Theodorus. 

Isaac.

Dazai.

Mozart. 

Arthur. 

They have to be. Maybe they have to use fake names to keep their real identities a secret for some important reason. 

“I believe that leaves you.” Le Comte’s silky voice interrupted my racing thoughts. Only my hero remained. My protector. He was the only one who was genuinely on my side. The one who wanted me to get out of here. He promised to answer my questions. I trusted him, albeit instantly. But he couldn’t possibly lie to me too. 

With his eyes that hid nothing, my saviour looked at me and said, “Napoleon. Napoleon Bonaparte… I’m a soldier.” 

[gasping-ghostzes]

Back on my 9-1-1 grind! So here is my little info dump of what’s going on was of the most recent episode!!!

CW: for mentions and details of suicide

1- Bobby,

This man was literally plotting his suicide this episode, or more like acting on it? But first, when he handed in his resignation, I didn’t realise it until thinking about it after the episode finished, but that was his way of preparing the 118 of his absence. Him retiring and having the LAFD be able to replace him with another captain wouldn’t be seen as suspicious especially given his age (no shade to him ❤️) but also just what he’s been thru in recent years. Like the moments of him interacting with the characters one on one and giving them little bits of unjudgmental advice and praise really kind of confirmed it. Also the part where Buck thanks him, and he’s like “it’s been my pleasure kid”, just seemed so off to me, not that it’s outside of Bobby’s character to say that, but the scene of it playing out… u could tell shit was gonna get bad

2- Hen!

I clocked it the moment I saw the lady on screen and the moment Mara and Denny was like “oh yeah, our mums r gonna adopt Mara!” And I could just tell that this lady was gonna pull her strings to stop that from happening! But also, to me, the things that was used as evidence as to why Hem and Karen shouldn’t be allowed to adopt Mara was such blatant bias. Like I know that Hen hasn’t been known to always follow the rules, but she done it with the intent and knowledge that doing it will give her patients a fighting chance, more of a chance than letting them die because she was too strict on following the rules.

3- Eddie…

So, Edmundo? Yeah he needs to go get proper help…

However, ppl saying that his love of Shanon is out of character completely, aren’t thinking about what we know about Eddie hard enough. One, he only got married to Shanon because he got her pregnant and it was advised by his church that it’s the right thing to do… but it was the same with Shanon, she was pregnant and likely had been given thw same advice. But they were both decently young when Christopher was born, so the fact that they held their religion values so close, may have been the reason they never wanted a divorce even after having a more than clear dysfunctional life. But after Shanon died, Eddie never had that option Yknow? Like when Shanon left, there was likely always a part of him that knew she’d come back around eventually because she and him both felt slightly obligated to do so, but that didn’t mean they didn’t live each other, it was just more than dysfunctional. So her death, to him was a permanent state of her never being able to come back for him and Chris to have closure and never continue the attempts of having the average family experience.

Two, Him seeing Kim, a woman who looks like his previous first love, and wanting to have some sort of relationship with her is unhealthy, but it makes sense… he’s claimed to be a “nester” and that’s what he does, so seeing a woman who looks exactly like what he envisioned as who he would “nest” with since he was young, was more than likely triggering.

Three, him never gaining that closure from Shanon and instead wanting to find it in Kim now means he’s able to live a literal delusion. One where he doesn’t exactly acknowledge that what they had was dysfunctional (ignore the word, I can’t find another to describe them accurately) and one where he can “fix” his mistakes. I think the only reason he misses Shanon and speaks of her so highly is because she was as close to a normal life he could get…

Like from what we knew about his life growing up, it definitely wasn’t the best. So him getting to fix that aspects and making sure to give Christopher better childhood. So him having this average, perfect marriage would’ve definitely been apart of him fabricating this perfect life that He, Christopher and Shanon all had is his way of coping how the majority of his life has been uncontrollable. Like Kim coming back with a new hair cut and style only made that fantasy worse. To him that’s not Kim, that’s a Shanon with the dysfunction, cause more than likely, Eddie didn’t tell Kim exactly how him and Shanon worked…

So seeing Kim as Shanon, a version of Shanon who has no “memory” of who she and Eddie were both separate and together was basically his shot at getting a second chance… which I know he isn’t gonna exactly convince himself that Kim is literally Shanon, but that’s not gonna stop him from projecting this skewed and inaccurate version of Shanon he wanted and needed in Kim

[miss-celestia13]

Violence

Jake ruminates on his love…

She came into his life with the force of a raging hurricane. A maelstrom of emotion and desire that he’d long refused to allow himself to feel. She was a storm restrained within a human skin, sent to disrupt his carefully crafted life.

There had been no way to refuse her, not that he wanted to. Her violent way of flirting had sealed it.

Being lured by her flashlight Morse Code and held at knifepoint was the most memorable way he’d ever been wooed.

The silver blade had rested against his throat, the small hand holding it unwavering and fearless, and he’d been gone from the moment she said;

“If you value that pretty neck, Jake, I’d stand very still and drop your hands.”

The urge to laugh and throttle her had struck him like a bolt of scarlet lightning.

She wanted him and hunted him down to have him. Shameless, utterly distracting, and so impatiently impulsive, he never knew what to expect next. A glitch in his system he’d been wholly unprepared to encounter.

He’d never felt as alive as he did under the power of her venom eyes that night.

It was as though his heart had shrivelled and died without him noticing. Years of neglect and abuse had rendered it nothing more than a muscle that pumped blood through his veins.

The tiny flame of hope he’d carried in the early days of his exile had guttered long before she appeared.

She was a shot of pure adrenaline that brought him back to life. She gave him a reason to stop running, teaching him how to live and fight for himself.

If she hadn’t decided he deserved better than what he had, he didn’t know where he’d be.

He’d resigned himself to a life of hollow, aching nothingness. Just him and the mocking echo of his racing steps as he sought a new hiding spot.

Never laying down roots, cutting any growth out before it could bloom, and dousing the surrounding earth with salt to ensure he’d remain alone.

It had worked until she dropped into his life like a boulder launched into a still lake. The ripples she’d caused still flowed through him.

Life had been cold before her. Petrified in time and tragic happenstance.

Grief, regret, and spite held him captive for so long, he had been afraid to see who he could be without it grinding him down.

All his would’ve, could’ve, should’ve’s weighed him down. Demons on his back.

Their poison tipped claws had sunk in deep, etching their unspeakable names into his bones, and filling his blood with their lethal dose.

Manon had seen all that, the enshrouding devouring darkness, the glacial waters surrounding him, and laughed in the face of his demons until they ran away screaming.

He once believed he deserved nothing more than the shallow, unmarked grave his pursuers had prepared for him.

Now, those who once hunted him filled that grave.

He thrived while they decayed.

And with her, his world was warm. Scalding in the best times.

They preferred spending time together wearing nothing but skin, accessorized with gooseflesh and sweat, his teeth marks, and the violets his fingers planted on her inner thighs whenever he crawled between them.

She was a fire, an untamed blaze in the dark that kept his brittle heart cozy and safe.

He was her peace and patience after her life of war, death, and self-appointed blame.

She was his, and he was hers.

Everything else was just static on the screen.

————————————-

I shared my MC's thoughts on Jake the other day, but I wrote them for both. It helps me get in their heads to write their stories. In this case, I had to write vows for them, and these helped me get into a romantic mindset. I wanted to share his side, too❤️

Silence - My MC’s thoughts on Jake.

[mostdisconcerting]

Bad Day=Binging ScarNash

I had an interesting day today. Not in a good way. So as one does in such a situation, I went back to rewatch ScarNash. Cuz they’re my comfort ship.

This is just me reviewing almost every scene of the episode so I can forget that life exists for a little while🙃

Today I picked 4x04. And goodness I do not regret it one bit.

Starting with Patrick and the fat goose line. I’m sorry but why did that have to be so damn funny. “My fellow punters…” and “copious amounts of whiskey”, with his very Frank expression shifted my mood from stressed to joyful immediately. And I only now noticed that as Patrick and Eliza leave to meet Carter, Eliza yeets a paper in Clarence’s direction (or at least she tried).

I applaud Clarence’s “shit the parents are gonna argue if I don’t step in” senses. We love him for them.

I’m gonna make a rare mention of William, but I felt so bad for him when Ivy started talking about her mom’s gout. If I was eating anything resembling her description, I would gag to no end. Ruined the poor dudes snack.

Watching Patrick panic is probably my favorite part of this episode. Bros just pacing up, down, round and round, trying to think of what to do. (He’s literally just me but toned down and with an adult brain 😂)

That scene at Fallons was perfect. That unanimous “who?”, and the cover up that “we do love a little gossip now and then.”. It’s adorable and funny to see these to be in such sync and in such odds as they are.

Also, idk if anyone else noticed but she’s holding his ARM in the stables scene?! How-wha-why did I not notice that?

Poor Fitzroy. He could’ve had a much nicer career with his father out of the way. He’s known for being his father’s son, this way he could learn to be his own man.

We gotta talk about that cab scene. Literally, Patrick was trying to make things better by saying “it’s not your fault they left”, and just made it worse by adding “it’s mine, I should’ve never left you in charge”. She looked so genuinely offended by what he said, only to be shut down cuz they were literally in the middle of investigating.

Then they just break into Fallon’s office like it’s nothing and start bickering about the resignations again. She said she didn’t fire any of them. And then she admitted to firing multiple. Which is great I guess. So… we have that. Then they just hop through the office when someone comes in. Like. They have no right to be this adorable. Why are they literally my grandparents on steroids.

Turns out the lines about Eliza sulking started in this episode, which clearly adds to why she’s pissed when he spends the entirety of 4x05 just telling her she’s sulking and she should not sulk.

Then we have scene where Patrick’s pacing again. And I don’t blame him for making Eliza nervous too. Like he said “good I don’t see why I should suffer alone” (which is a quote I’ve been using way to much in real life recently lol)

Clarence makes his grand entry with some food and the info that Gibson is here. 🙃

And I’m finally going to end on those last two scenes of them together (cuz I skipped William kissing Eliza)

Them blackmailing Carter was hilarious. I mean, we know both of them were hella nervous cuz he could’ve just gunned both of them down there but that’s whatever. I love the little voice moderations and the expressions Eliza and Patrick pass each other basically saying “he’s agreed, now let’s get the hell out of here before he changes his mind and kills us”

Then we got Patrick praising Eliza. That could’ve played out to be an even more heartfelt scene had Eliza not seen the time and ran off. He looked disappointed, but he seemed to let it go (unlike William would’ve as we know) , understanding she probably forgot to do something .

Makes me sad seeing potential like this being flushed down a toilet.

They’re an old married couple and I love that for them🙃

[guileheroine]

arcane s2 act 1 thoughts

getting my impressions down before act 2 so i can remember how things felt at this point in time before everything gets blasted open :)

aughghhhhjjjjjjjjhhhhj

above all: it’s exciting to watch a show that’s technically incredible also be so tight in terms of writing, where you trust it enough to really immerse yourself w/o reservation. and moreso it’s so nice to be trusted to do some work as a viewer, interpret the ambiguities instead of being force-fed all the beats. and to have something so detail rich, dense and deftly constructed that you can mine it endlessly (as someone who’s seen s1 10-ish times lol)

they are packing so much story into these episodes compared to s1 act 1 and i won't be able to imagine all this tied up in 6 more eps until i see it - i wonder how it would feel as a slower paced show

the loungewear and rose petals really give the new opening a boudoir vibe. grateful!

no scene scratched my id like viktor leaving jayce — his open acknowledgement of their divergence (in those words no less) and the fact of their partnership being dead from the beginning

^for me the core of the story has long been what i call the two JV divergence arcs

relatedly, viktor in the black hood has there ever been a lük more instantly iconic. he has a STAGGERING face card. i look forward to further jayvik divorce proceedings but want him to meet the other undercity protags so bad, he seems poised to take on a similar role in the Cause as jinx

i really loved the opening scene between mel and jayce. it seems mel shielded him. i got tingly at her drawing the line at weaponising hextech and reaffirming her commitment to jayce and viktor's vision. their hextech dream, #ot3, # heres how meljayvik can still win!!!

the fight choreo, music, stylistic choices and just the marriage of form and content still feel thrilling. fortiche i am once again kissing your feet, vive la france

i dig this caitlyn arc. in s1 she didn’t quite pass muster against the rest of the cast bc it felt like the degree of naïveté needed to keep her as pure as it seemed they wanted her, was a hard sell in an ostensibly smart and capable character, in an ensemble where everyone else felt like much more textured products of their circumstances. i always thought that instead of the noble oblivious thing it would’ve been more seamless and meaningful if she’d been conscious but ambivalent about all the gross injustice, only digging deeper once it became personal via vi

and now!! feeling gratified bc i think they’re doing that arc, just in reverse: as soon as it becomes personal in the other direction, you see that her grip on the bigger picture is conditional and easily blinkered. it emphasises her previous passion about justice for zaun as deriving partly from the self-righteousness that's also an underacknowledged effect of privilege, instead of simple empathy. (plus the fairweather allyship is… a very resonant theme lmao and quite cool to see it depicted how the correct nudge, a taste of what the system deals out to others, will make the most earnest of listeners-and-learners retreat to their worst biases about the 'other'. the protofascist seed in every member of a cozy ruling class. honestly one of their most excellent writing choices)

i think cait hit vi on that stab wound from sevika which surely cannot have fully healed yet. ouch

absolutely loving jinx and sevika in the post-silco world, they are getting to come into their own in terms of motivations. absolutely obsessed with the smeech fight heheee

i can’t tell if jinx is doing better or worse. something soothing about the suicidal clarity though i don’t think her passivity is new—in s1 she was incredibly perceptive about what she was to silco but sort of resigned to it, so it's kinda exciting where she could go without his tether even though i miss silco sooooo much. i wonder if being in her Older Sibling Era (and vi being in her Abandoned Era) will help jinx and vi connect (🚨wishful thinking🚨, but somebody should write it)

“im glad it’s you / had to be you” has made me ILL since hearing it in that one teaser and now that it’s in context i might just throw up i cannot believeee we get a sister dynamic like this

vi rock bottom🤗 i couldn’t decide if she legit felt jinx was beyond the pale or did a hard swerve putting all her eggs in cait's basket, trying to bifurcate powder and jinx for the sake of, i guess, emotional self-preservation, with the notion of powder that had sustained her fully extinguished. love a protag so earthy and intense while being an unmitigated flop before the fateful tide of the story, and in that way she’s still very dean winchester-coded. also in that i want to see her bloody and crying, though at this point one win might be a relief

ambessa fox mode let’s goooo! i am curious if/when she’ll slip which i think could come down to something explosive with mel (🤞) or caitlyn realising she manipulated her in her griefblind state

idk if it just needs time or if it’s the unfillable silco-shaped hole, but so far the dialogue this season isn’t as sticky ?? (compared with s1 where they didn’t waste a word). but at least everyone’s hotter

i like heimerdinger more now that he’s ekko’s pet. i like jayce and ekko meeting lifetimes after “he didn’t even haggle”: they are just drinking tea and investigating the arcane not even realising their semi-interaction precipitated the instigating tragedy of Arcane. the world would never be the same. i hope they survive what may or may not be the time warp intact D:

the “it’s not supposed to be like that” with sevika and jinx and the bombs what is going on??? 👀👀

i'm glad theyre releasing this right in time to carry me through the winter. seasonal depression out, seasonal hyperfixation in

[simplifiedemotions]

Roots

It started when they were forced to work together in a dingy office in the bowels of the Ministry. 

Hermione expected his surly attitude:

A flush appeared in the hollows of his cheeks when she’d tried to direct his position. “I don’t take orders from you, Granger.”

She had anticipated that he would argue with her about everything:

“It must kill you to be wrong, Granger.” His cruel smirk appeared, though it was more strained now than when they were children. “Now what Ogden meant in the briefing was that…”

What she hadn’t expected, what opened her heart to a vulnerability she thought she should run away from, only because feelings this delicate were softer and more breakable than petals, was the ways in which Draco Malfoy could love.

A burning kind of love. A love that lights your soul but is liable to destroy it if the fire catches too much.

Still, she leaned into the heat that started at her fingers resting on his cheek.

**

She hadn’t expected his loneliness and only saw it because it reflected her own.

“I’ll be alone at Christmas.” He looked more surprised than Hermione did to have admitted it out loud. He flushed, his jaw tight, but Hermione pressed on before he could shut himself away again. 

She admitted she felt lonely, too. More unbidden thoughts, spurting bitterly from her mouth like soured candy, that she preferred staying home alone on her sofa with some hot tea, over the tension that awaited her at a Weasley table that no longer felt welcoming once she acquired the title of ex-girlfriend.

He must have seen the pain shown on her face, because before she knew it he was drawing his wand from his robes and casting a spell.

“Orchideous.” A soft word under his breath as he motioned his wand in a circle. There was a flash of pink light, and then a single flower conjured from the tip of his wand.

Things she had not expected:

The soft, pink-petal flower beaming as if under the direct attention of the sun, uncaring if there was only one small window in the entire room.

He proffered the flower to her, and she took it, ignoring her trembling fingers as she brought the flower to her nose, her mouth quirking up without her permission when she took in the light fragrance.

There were several moments of quiet before Hermione said the only thing she could to disrupt the awkwardness: “I thought this spell was meant to conjure a whole bouquet.”

Things she had not expected: the way Draco Malfoy’s face softened when he gave someone a genuine smile.

“Funny thing about magic,” he drawled, arching an eyebrow and staring down his nose at her. “You can tweak any number of spells to suit your specific needs.” He leaned forward. “But if you prefer a bouquet, Granger, I can do that for you.”

Hermione frowned, flushing from her face up to the tips of her ears. “I didn’t say that.” She pushed from her desk, drawing her own wand, and she’d be a liar if she said it didn’t satisfy her to see Malfoy’s eyes narrow in apprehension.

She rolled her eyes and picked up one of her pens, pointing her wand at it and transfiguring the blue pen into a deep navy vase, then muttering a spell to fill it with water and putting the single flower inside. 

She looked up at Malfoy and gave him a shy grin. 

“Thank you.”

He looked away from her, clearing his throat before picking up his quill and continuing to work. 

The next day, a whole bouquet of pink flowers sat in their own vase at the corner of her desk.

**

Things Hermione Granger did not expect: for there to be such an array of flowers in existence. 

As well as the fact that it took her longer than she would’ve liked to guess that each of those flowers had special meanings.

A Black-Eyed Susan for justice, on the day she submitted her treatise on Werewolf rights.

A hoard of Bluebells on the day she’d been humbled by the Merfolk, who’d informed her that their fight for equal rights involved more than just raging at the system.

Butterfly weeds on the day she’d finally resigned to herself that she’d never get her parents their memories back. She’d cried in Draco’s arms when he’d told her how the weeds were slow to grow, but hard to die away once they rooted themselves to the earth.

That same evening, he’d handed her a bouquet of Edelweiss, a mountain flower meant to convey courage and devotion. She stared up from the furry white petals into Draco’s sad grey eyes, and resolved to keep looking at him for as long as she could.

This went on for at least a year. The amount of flowers he’d conjured was outrageous, but she’d be lying if she said she wanted him to stop.

She never was a good liar.

**

Hermione traced the delicate fold of the sunflower on her desk, wondering about a great many things close to her heart. 

Instead, she said, “Do you wonder how magic might know how to create certain aspects of an item? It can create a flower, but how does it know how that flower smells? Or how its petals fold or sway depending on the pace of wind?”

Draco looked up from a scroll he had been focusing on for the last several hours, and she resolved not to tell him about the small ink stain on his cheek. 

“I imagine magic is integral to imagination, in a lot of ways,” he said after a moment. “Take Muggles. They can’t see unicorns, and as far as they know, such creatures don’t exist. But that doesn’t mean they can’t conceive of them in their minds.”

Her heart picked up, and she could only smile wider when Draco scowled at her. Drawing closer to him, she put her hands on her hips and raised her nose in the air because she knew how much it annoyed him. “Well, according to Bateman’s theory…”

Things Hermione didn’t expect: for the evening to continue on. Their arguments about magical theory moved destinations. First, to the lift. The grates opened to a group of people waiting on the other side. Draco slid his palm against her lower back as they sidled inside. 

Then, to the Apothecary in the Ministry, because Draco needed a Pepper-up potion, citing a certain curly-haired witch and her constant jabbering affecting his poor, tired body. He only laughed when she slapped him on the arm.

Then, to a Muggle pub Hermione had wanted to visit, ignoring Draco’s unamused look when he realised it was a pub themed around witches and warlocks during Christmas.

He vehemently refused the wizard cape the hostess offered to him, his displeasure written in his glower, even as they were given a table near the back and Hermione teased him incessantly about not getting into a magical mood.

They sampled eggnog and spiced rum, and Hermione relished the way his cheekbones turned red at the tips the more alcohol he consumed.

She only moved closer when he put an arm over her shoulders, enjoying the catching heat against her cheek.

**

Two people, backlit by low bulbs in front of Hermione’s unimpressive flat.

It was silly, the way her heart started pounding as her focus narrowed on him. Something in her wanted to devour, to fill some lost and now found aching want. 

She wanted inside of him, through the hard marrow and narrow bones, past the veins that ensured blood pumped to his heart. The heart her hand laid on now, as she stepped closer and drew her face up; as she met his eyes and hoped to show the yearning in hers.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you, Granger?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her chin out. “Yes.” Smiling at his scowl, she added, “Please and thank you.”

She thought she knew the look currently simmering in his slate-grey eyes. It was the same look she held for him.

He grunted, clamping his jaw tight as if he could lock the words away, but he was about as adept at keeping his mouth shut as she was.

“Bloody witch, even the most mindless Weasley could see how I feel about you.” 

Hermione gave him her most piercing glare. “And how was I meant to know that? Also, stop making fun of Ron just because it makes you feel better than him.”

Draco glared at her as he always did when she defended Ron, then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hermione," he said, and his face wore an aggrieved look that would have offended her if he didn't seem so desperate. “You believe I gave you flowers every single day for several months just… because?”

She blushed and ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her embarrassment. “Well…”

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

Her heart stuttered. “Do what?”

“Look at me… like you don’t know…”

He stepped closer to her. Nerves rushed up and she stepped back, but that only served to pin her between the door and Draco, whose body was so warm she was sure she was burning up on the inside.

He set both hands on either side of her head, before leaning down until they were nose to nose, forcing her to look up.

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Do you always expect such things of me, Granger? Is that all I am to you?” 

Expect? Oh, one day she should tell him about all the ways he was unexpected.

But for now, she was too busy pulling him closer and doing something unexpected of her own.

She caught fire, burning from the inside out but she only drew him closer. She trusted him not to leave her in cinders. 

She trusted that he saw her as a phoenix, his slender hands leaving dragon-fire in their wake. 

When she cut off to propose a theory of inherent elemental magic involving fire, he only told her to shut up and kissed her again, pushing her into her flat, kicking her door shut and herding her towards her bedroom.

She knew he’d listen the next morning, and perhaps even conjure a flower that would convey some related meaning to her words. And she’d smile again and let her warmed skin clear the air around her.

[anitabighug]

❥ A Perfect Experiment : Wally x Reader (She/Her Pronouns, Named) ✿

Chapter Masterpost: [  ♡   ♡    ♡ ]

Chapter Nine; The Love Potion

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● It had been a few days since the incident, and with the help of your dear friends, you’ve made a full recovery. It helped to have a project to work on. Made you feel like you were helping, too, if even in a small way. You’d memorised all the lines in the script at this point. It was a cute story that the two girls had written, and you were excited to be a part of it. There were only three parts; A Knight, A Princess, and a Witch. Well, four parts, if you counted the brief cameo of Howdy in a dragon costume. You were the witch, who captured the beautiful princess, wanting to marry her and take her kingdom’s magic for yourself. You thought it funny; the plot went in such a different direction than you were expecting. You wondered who was playing the other parts, but Sally was pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. Weird, considering that the princess was probably Julie anyways. The knight, though… You bite on the end of the highlighter you’re holding, out like a light in full daydreaming mode. If it had been hard to keep him off your mind before, now it was downright impossible. A shiny knight costume, with broad shoulders… He lifts the front of his helmet to look down at you, grinning broadly… You let out a delirious giggle. Ah! Snap out of it! You shake the thoughts out of your head, and hug the script close. You need to focus! You set the duotang folder to the side, laying the highlighter on top of it, before turning back to your other project; Your costume! You had a darker dress laying around, though it was probably froofier than Sally had in mind. The real tricky part was the hat. You’d sketched up a diagram that probably would’ve worked better for building a machine than sewing a hat. Which was the real problem. You didn’t really have any idea how to sew– but it couldn’t be THAT hard. It was just string and fabric. This wasn’t going to beat you. You manage to finish with about an hour to spare, letting out a sigh of relief. You weren’t the best with this, you’d admit. You ended up forgoing the thread altogether, deciding (poorly) that staples would be much stronger anyways, getting frustrated when it (obviously) ended up absolutely hideous. It was, however, a triangle with a brim. You could work with this. You sacrificed a purple feather boa, hot glueing it around the brim, and decorating it with little foam stars you’d cut out yourself. There, like there was nothing wrong with it! After changing and gathering your props, you resign yourself to a short rest in your armchair, but a knocking at the door surprises you. Does no one in this neighbourhood know how to use a phone? Opening it up, you find Julie and Frank on your doorstep. Frank is staring down at the floor, cheeks dark, and drumming his fingers on his sides nervously. Julie… Julie looks sour. This might be the maddest you’d ever seen her. Before you can ask what's wrong, Julie shoves Frank forwards, “Daisy! Frank has something he wants to say to you!” She announces with all the authority of a grade school teacher. He gulps loudly. You tilt your head in confusion; What could Frank possibly have done wrong??? “... Daisy, I…” He takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “... I am very ashamed. You see, the other day, I…” He hesitates. Julie taps her foot impatiently. “I came to visit, I was quite interested when you said I should look more into moths, you see. Your door was wide open, and I… Well, I was looking for you, and I… I found your notebook on the movement of celestial bodies. I was curious, and I didn’t think you would mind, so I borrowed it, and…” He winced. Julie has pursed her lips. “Tell her!” She demands, her tone surprising even you. “... I’m afraid I’ve lost it. I believed I was taking good care of it, and fully intended to bring it back, but it has vanished without a trace.” You frown. Honestly, Frank borrowing your stuff wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but something about that particular notebook vanishing left a nasty feeling in your stomach. You felt like you were missing something important… You look up to see Frank shuddering. Oh, right, you should probably say something. Your expression softens, and you step forwards, giving him a big hug, “It's okay, Frank. You didn’t mean to, and I understand. Curiosity is the hardest thing to ignore.” You smile against him. You couldn’t possibly be mad at him; he was the only one who understood you in your ultimate quest for science! You hear a loud gross sniffle come from him, and a relieved sigh from Julie. “Thank you for telling me. I know that was hard.” After calming Frank down from his intense emotions, You gather your things, and close your door. “Julie, I’m not sure I get it; is that your costume?” You ask. Julie is in her usual outfit, very pretty but not really screaming ‘princess’. She looks at you as if you’re crazy. You laugh nervously. You really should stop assuming things about your friends. “Oh, sorry. I just thought… Well, you’re very princessy, I thought you were…” “Nope! I was the author! The genius behind the scenes!!!” She grinned, and gave an excited wiggle, “I wanted to sit and watch my vision come to life!!! Besides, Sally found a WAY better Princess.” ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● The breath escapes your lungs when you see him. Why did he even have that? The cast, plus Sally, stand backstage to prepare the last bits and give your friends some time to find their seats. Eddie has made a surprisingly robust set of armour out of cardboard, with a flippable hood and everything. It's painted light blue, with pink trim and accents, and a few stamps stuck on the chestplate for good luck. That solved one mystery, but the solution for the other left your brain melted. Wally has a sparkling circlet resting under his pompadour, his cheeks have blush carefully applied, and he strides over to the group with absolutely limitless confidence. Not that it wasn’t warranted; your jaw certainly dropped when you saw him. His gown looks expensive, with tight sleeves that landed directly at his wrists, a cold shoulder so chilly you feared winter would come early, and a train so long you were worried you would trip on it during the show. The whole thing was pulled together with delicate floral lace in a dark blue similar to the sweaters he often wore. The skirt was excruciatingly shorter in the front, and he had a pair of matching intricate pants underneath, along with a lovely pair of boots with trim similar to the dress. You grab Sally’s arm, and scurry off to the side, cheeks ablaze, “Wally? The princess is Wally??” “Well, yeah, duh! He is the prettiest person in the neighbourhood,” Sally replied bluntly. The two of you look back at him. Eddie is ooh-ing and ahh-ing over his craftsmanship, and Wally is absolutely eating up the attention. “And honestly, he really does have the legs for it; check out those boots!” “Sally, he looks amazing, that is not the issue and you know it is not the issue.” You tell her, deadly serious, gripping the straps of her overalls. “Boys can be perfectly good princesses!” “Sally. That is not. The issue.” You stare into her eyes. “The issue is, you wrote a… A….” Your face flushes. It was FINE when it was Julie playing the Princess, but with Wally…! Sally is smirking down at you. You narrow your eyes. “... Traitor.” It was far too late to back out now. The show must go on. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● “Once upon a time, in a land far away, There lived a beaaauutiful Princess!” Sally announced, and gave a bow as Wally strolled onto the stage, giving a regal wave to the audience. The group cheered, and one of them even wolf whistled. He was THRIVING. “The beautiful princess lived in his palace, overlooking his beautiful kingdom, upon which the sun shone every day!” “My kingdom is so beautiful!” Wally raised a delicate hand to his head, “But alas! It is so lonely sitting upon my throne. I have cast this spell for eternal sunshine, but my people! They have no more problems, and do not visit me anymore! Everything is just TOO perfect!” He places his arm over his eyes dramatically, flopping back onto the armchair that had been pulled into the stage area. “What the beautiful princess did not know, however, was that there was a much bigger problem approaching!!!” Sally wiggled her arms in the direction of the other half of the stage. Oh! Right, that was your cue! A couple of cardboard rainclouds hung on your side of the stage, and you stepped out, raising your broom to the sky, “The evil witch was watching the kingdom, envious of it’s sun shiny days!” “I will kidnap the princess, and bring her to my bog!” You announce stiffly, “Soon! Mark my words! We will be wed, and I will have the sun shiny magic for my own!” You raise your hands in the air for dramatic effect, emphasizing your weak villain laugh, “Mua! Ha Ha! Ha ha!” You can hear Barnaby absolutely losing his mind in the audience. Yeah, yuk it up, pup! You’re gonna be a star whether your acting skills like it or not! “The evil witch had an equally evil plan! She made a wicked brew, threatening to put the princess to sleep for a thousand years!” You loved this part. You scurried backstage, returning with a rolling table with some of your favourite flasks and beakers set up atop it. You raise a jar of blue liquid to the sky, giving it a swirl. Then, you raise a second cup, this time yellow, and let out another villain laugh. You pour the second up into the first, and Sally ‘Oooooh’s for dramatic effect. The blue liquid turns pink and sparkly in the jar, and you cap it, giving it another swirl, “With this magic potion! I, The Evil Witch, will finally get what I desire! Mua! Ha! Ha!” You give a toss of your capelet, and march the table off stage. The scene returns to Princess Wally, sitting atop his throne, boredly playing with a bit of his hair. “Beautiful Princess!” You burst out from behind the throne, and Wally lets out a surprised gasp, “Your time has come! Marry me, and give me your magic powers, or a curse I will cast upon you!” You slam the jar on the arm of the chair. There is a beat of silence. “Okay.” Wally grins at you. “... What?” “I will marry you, evil witch!” He claps his hands together cheerfully, and lets out a dreamy sigh, “It will be a spring wedding! I’ll never be lonely again!” “No! You are supposed to scream! Cry!! I am supposed to curse you!” You stomp your foot, before starting to pace the length of the stage. You approach him again, getting in his face, “I am here to kidnap you!!!” “Not while I’m around, you won't!” The heroic knight barges in. The audience cheers. He chases you the length of the stage a couple of times before you are scared off completely. “Oh, no! My guards have chased off the witch. When will I ever get a chance like that again?” Wally mused, swirling the jar with one of his hands. “At least she left this for me to remember her by!” He takes the lid off, and takes a delicate sip. His eyes shoot open wide, and he looks at it in surprise, “Oh, this is actually really good.” He breaks his character, and from backstage you blush at the compliment. He downs the rest of the jar, and then lets out a loud, dramatic wail. He falls backwards, into Eddie’s waiting arms. “The beautiful princess!!! He is cursed!” Eddie cried, and shook Wally, “Do not worry, princess!! I will avenge you!” ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● The next while is a whirlwind. You and Wally watch from the sidelines as Eddie has his time to shine; going on a quest to find the Witch, and beating a dragon along the way. Sally narrates the whole thing while Eddie pantomimes, crossing deserts and jungles and lava rivers. He ends up at your witch hut… Only to find a note, saying “Out Kidnappin’”, and having to turn around to rescue the princess once more. The audience was having a blast, cheering and laughing and heckling Eddie. Finally, He returns to the castle. He finds you, wailing over the sleeping form of the princess, “Oh! Woe is me! If only I hadn’t cursed you, Princess! We would be wed by now!” You cry, and waggle the empty jar for dramatic effect. “Evil witch!” Announced Eddie, storming on to the scene. You let out a loud gasp. “You will break this curse, or face my wrath!” “Alas, I cannot! Only a kiss from one’s love can break this curse! I did not think it through very well,” You admitted, rubbing your cheek, “Perhaps a kiss from his trusted knight will be good enough?” “Me? Love the Princess?” The knight rubs the back of his neck nervously, “No, my love lies elsewhere.” “What a predicament!” Sally chimed in, and you and Eddie both adopt puzzled expressions, holding your hands under your chin. “But the two of them would find the Princess’ love where they would least expect it!” “Why don’t you try, Evil Witch?” Asked the knight. You point at yourself in confusion. He nods vigorously, “You did propose to her after all! And she did accept it!” You kneel down next to Wally. Your stomach was doing knots. Thankfully you knew how to do a stage kiss, but still… You peer down at Wally’s pretend-sleeping form. He opens one eye to look up at you, and gives your hand a short, encouraging squeeze. Okay, you can do this. The show must go on. Its just for the show. Calm down, you. You take in a deep breath, and lean down… Way too fast. Your forehead collides with Wally, and the two of you leap backwards from each other, holding your respective heads. There is a beat of silence. “Uh… The Princess has awakened! Hooray!!!” Eddie cheers. The audience follows in turn. Your head is throbbing. “With the curse broken, and the Princess and the Witch finding true love, the sun shiny kingdom lived happily ever after!” Sally announced to the world, and the applause started up from in front of you. Eddie helps the both of you to your feet, and you give a quick bow before ducking back behind the curtains to calm down. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● “What a laugh,” Wally drolled, sprawled out next to you under a tree as he watched the event wrapping up. Frank was examining Eddie’s armour heavily, testing how every joint worked with a careful eye. The rest of the group has Sally and Julie surrounded, chattering about their favourite parts, and how they can’t wait to see it again. You secretly hope that you can sit out of the next play. “I’m glad it’s over; I don’t think I ever want to kiss you again..” Your heart crinkled into a million pieces. What? You thought things were going so well! You turn away from him, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes. Even if he were that upset about the play– he didn’t have to be so rude about it! “Haha! Yeah, who would ever want that? What a dumb idea! Ha!” Your acting is as terrible as ever, but you hope he doesn’t notice. “Sally said it would be nice, but honestly, that just hurt. I don’t understand why people do that. My head is probably going to ache for a week.” Huh? Your tears are blinked away, replaced with absolute amazement. There was no way. Absolutely no way. Did he really not…? “What? Wally, no, that wasn’t a kiss! That was… A klutz!” You exclaim, cheeks burning with resentment, “Kisses are supposed to be nice, I just…” You reach up, covering your forehead. Oh, you idiot. “Messed everything up.” Wally leaned in closer to you, peering up into your eyes. Gosh, that blush was cute on him. “If that wasn’t a kiss… Then what is?” “Ohh, Wally. A kiss… A kiss is…” You stumble over your words, trying desperately not to meet his eyes. If this was some sort of elaborate joke, you were never going to speak to him again. Well… At least it wasn’t in front of the audience. You gulp down your courage, and lean forwards, pressing a quick peck onto his cheek. His eyes are wide, watching you expectantly. “... Wait, I think I wasn’t paying enough attention. Can you do it again?” Your hands fly up to cover your face, and you groan, “Wally!!! Don’t tease me like that, its not nice!” “What?” He asks, and reaches forwards, moving your hands from your face. You get a good look at him finally. “Whos teasing? Please, Daisy?” He looks sincere… You’re trembling a little as you lean up again, giving him another, longer kiss on his cheek. He waits a beat, looking deep in thought. He leans back to close the gap, pressing one directly on to your cheek in return. Your heart leaps out of your throat. He gives you another, a little lower, then another, up on your cheekbone. This must be heaven. “Hmm… I think I’ve got it,” He mused, watching you with a smug smile on his face as you melt. “Cool show, kids!” Barnaby makes his presence known, bringing the two of you back to solid ground with it. Wally’s eyes light up, and he stands, rushing to the dogs side. “Barnaby– quick. Let me show you what Daisy just taught me.” He grabs the dog’s vest, tugging him down to be level with the puppet, and presses a kiss on to his cheek. Barnaby’s cheeks flush, and he slowly looks between you, and a very proud looking Wally. No, you take it back. This is hell. You bury your face in your hands, and Barnaby falls to the ground, wheezing out laughter at how hard you’d just been friendzoned. In a fury, you stand, grabbing your things, “I’m leaving!” You announce, and stomp off towards your home. Barnaby tries to stop you, but he can’t stop his giggles for long enough to call out to you. Wally just stares at your back in confusion, and rubs his cheek… Wondering just what he’d done wrong. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●   @elegantkidfansoul @itsyoboysparkel

[iworshipsappho]

at the same house where it all started, and i love you so much

The sky was lit up in hues of orange, yellow and white, the air around her was heavy with a distinct smell of smoke and her ears were half-deaf, owing to the hours of constant noise and laughter.  This.  This is what Yazhini had been craving for the better half of the year. This feeling of wholeness and pure chaos; of joy and love and all the things that made life worth living. The impulsivity that thrived, the feeling of living on the edge that permeated through the very essence of the festival season.

The fact that she was surrounded by her people -doing stupid things with ridiculous grins on their faces and the occasional looks of horror at her antics- gave her a sense of belonging that she never expected to still have despite it all. As a kid around the age of five, her grandfather used to take her to the fireworks shop at the end of the road, hidden among the more glamorous ones. She would’ve never seen it if her thatha hadn’t taught her to look for it. That shop, in her opinion, still reigns superior to all the bright booming ones that scam their customers with  She cherished those trips; those agonizing minutes she used to spend contemplating whether or not to ask her thatha to buy a gun because she was too embarrassed to tell him that she’d already lost the one he’d gotten her the previous year, only for him to silently grab a gun and throw it into their bag of crackers. The look he would send her way would be knowing, but instead of judgement, all she could sense was unadulterated fondness.   In the years that Yazhini had spent finding herself, she’d also unfortunately internalized the fact that she might never be loved and accepted by the people who once called her ‘pattani’ or ‘kannama’. Her subconsciousness filled her mind with images of looks of contempt, disgust, disrespect and worst of, hatred, being shot her way by people she’d known all her life. She’d almost resigned herself to a life where the family she had once known would never know her, and when they did, they would all leave her. But this? She’d never expected it. She never expected to be back home. To be rummaging through the kitchen cabinets at three in the morning with her cousins to look for the coffee powder, to share salwars and skirts and braid each other's hair, to tease her brothers about their girlfriends or lack thereof. She never thought she could be her and still be loved. But this Deepavali had proven her so very wrong. And for once, that made her the happiest she’d ever been. 

[littledreamling]

Angst Prompt for Angst King:

'You already know how this will end.'

I’ll be honest, this is… not my best work 😅 my exhaustion is clearly getting to me, but I did my best (I might come back to this particular prompt later if I have any better ideas for it), in the meantime, here’s my 4am angst dump!

“You already know how this will end.”

—

When Dream held his sister’s sigil and called her name, inviting her to his realm to tell her the big news, he had expected excitement, that her younger brother was opening up. He had expected joy, that her younger brother was learning to love again. He had expected pride, that her younger brother was accepting change.

When Death stepped into his gallery, however, her brow was furrowed and worry pooled in her eyes. He only got halfway through his announcement before she sighed, refusing to look him in the eyes.

“What is it, sister?”

He had expected such judgment from Destiny or Desire; especially Desire, but he had counted on Death backing him up. She had always been the one to encourage his interactions with mortals. She had always been supportive of his relationships in the past.

“Nothing, Dream, it’s just-“ She paused, biting her lip. “Well, you already know how this will end, don’t you?”

He drew himself up, his own brow furrowing in indignant rage. To hear Desire’s condescension and condemnation out of his favorite sibling’s mouth was a betrayal that he had never thought to prepare for. It stung like a lash, tearing through flesh straight to bone.

“I don’t understand-“

“Hob’s mortal, Dream,” she clarified gently. “You know what happens to mortals when they tangle with the Endless.”

“No, Death,” he protested, “he’s immortal. You made him immortal.”

“Not immortal enough, baby brother,” she said with a sad twitch of her lips. “He wasn’t born immortal. He’s not an immortal. He’s living on borrowed time, that’s all-“

“Aren’t we all?” Dream demanded, if only to put a stop to her horrible words. Each one felt like an arrow piercing his skin and he felt his eyes well up with tears.

“I’m sorry, Dream,” she said softly. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“No, I don’t-“

“Don’t let your stubbornness lead him to ruin,” she warned sharply. “We both know he deserves better than that.”

Dream could’ve countered that Hob deserved the world. He should’ve countered that Hob would lead himself to ruin for the pleasure of Dream’s attention. But the two together stayed his tongue. Hob would lay his life to rest if it meant he could be with Dream and they both knew it. Death was right; Hob deserved better than that.

Death must’ve seen the resignation of his face because she laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I wish it could’ve been different. I would’ve wished you both every happiness in the world. But if you want him to be happy, you know what you have to do.”

Dream nodded slowly.

“I was happy,” he said quietly. “For a moment, I was happy. And so was he. For just a moment, it was okay. I should’ve known it was too good to be true.”

Years later (though he’d never bothered to keep track of how many; human time was such a fickle thing), when Hob finally asked for Death’s gift, Dream remembered her words; he's living on borrowed time, and he knew that she had been right.

From this prompt list!