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monstersflashlight · 6 months ago

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Hey, I was wondering g if you could make a sleeping in the dark part 2? If it's okay to ask could you possibly do a chubby!reader?

Crying in the middle of the night in the darkness but the minster comes out to think reader is crying because of the dark. Reassuring her that it's oka and the dark isn't scary but, reader then explains that she wasn't crying because of the dark. The monster gets all confused and asks why she was crying. Reader tells the monster that she was insecure abt her body, then further explains that's she's been being treated badly in her work/school environment by her peers because of her body/looks.

Thank you if you respond, I mean it could be a she part and not part 2 but again, thank you.

-🦝 anon.

Hi 🦝 anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this. I really wanted to do justice to this request. As a chubby woman myself, I know perfectly well the struggles of being fat in a society that doesn’t like fat at all. I try not to make any comments about the body of the reader if it doesn’t play a part in the action bc I want ppl to imagine themselves there as they want. Even when the monsters use terms as “little human” think about it like the monster is so big you are tiny, doesn’t matter how big you are in real life. I love a good size difference, so there’s that. I hope you don’t think this means you need somebody to tell you you are pretty, beautiful or hot, because that’s not true, you are all that without anyone saying it. Believe me, as someone who likes boys, girls, and everything in between, fat bodies are hot like burning. But I do get the necessity to hear it sometimes, and this story is born because of it. That said, I hope this is as cathartic for you as it was for me, this short hit really close to the heart for me. <3

Part 1 if you haven't read it

Sleeping in the dark (part 2)

Night monster x chubby fem!reader || orgasm denial || tw: fatphobia

You were, once again, crying in your room, ugly sobs that made it hard to breathe and your heart beating faster. You felt his presence before he could make himself known. “Oh no, little human, I thought we went past the fear of the dark.” His tone was so soft you felt your heart skip a beat.

You sniffled against the pillow, “is not that.” You tried to tell him more, but another sob broke from your chest.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused at your statement, like there weren’t any other reasons why you could be crying about. You guessed as a monster in your closet he probably didn’t know much about the horrors of the world. He lived in a bubble of darkness inside your room, after all.

“They- They called me fat,” you told him in between hiccups.

“Who did?” His tone sounded dangerous. You looked up from your pillow, trying to see something in the dark of your room. You could see his silhouette, but nothing else. You wished you could turn the light on, but you didn’t want him to go.

“Some random dude from the office. They called me fat. They thought I wasn’t listening but they called me fat and made fun of me. I thought I was past that, but there’s always someone that reminds me how ugly my body is.” He growled at that statement. You ignored it and kept talking, “they always tell you to love your body, but when it comes to being fat, they want you to hate yourself. And I try to fight it, I try every day, but sometimes is just too much.” You sobbed again, he touched your knee and you felt his arms closing around you two seconds later. “I just want to be pretty.” You cried against his chest, your voice muffled by his skin. He growled and you felt it against your teary face.

“Don’t say that. You are pretty, you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful human,” his voice was filled with desperation for you to believe him.

“You have to say that, you’ve only seen me,” you joked. The laugh you let out was swallowed by the sob that broke free right after.

“You are wrong.” He touched your skin, wiping away some tears with his thumb. “I’ve lived thousands of years, I’ve known many humans, some of them have known me. You are beautiful. You are perfect.”

“No, I’m not. But thanks for saying that.” He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a scream. He tore your clothes apart and you felt him caressing every inch of your skin at the same time.

“Beautiful,” he told you. He touched every part of your body, caressing your skin like you were a work of art, whispering endearing words against your ear. He told you every single compliment you could think of, and then some more.

It felt wrong to feel like that, you felt like he was lying, but he couldn’t be. It felt like he was forcing you to acknowledge every single cell in your body. It felt like he was pushing the words in your soul, trying to imprint them there so you wouldn’t feel ugly never again. You cried, at every single word, a tear ran down your skin. He didn’t wipe them out, he let you cry as he caressed your skin. When he parted your legs and positioned himself there, you kept crying.

Your pussy was so wet, and your soul felt so raw.

He started slow, licking your wet lips, playing with his tongue all over, but where you wanted him the most. He never shut up, telling you how pretty you were, how wet, how wonderful for him, how perfect. You were rapidly approaching to an orgasm when he said: “Say nice things about yourself if you want to come.” You shook your head, grabbing his head and trying to push him to eat you out again. “Say it,” he ordered. His voice was hard and commanding.

“I- I can’t,” you cried out. There was no way. You didn’t feel it, it wasn’t true. You weren’t pretty. You weren’t beautiful. His words seemed like a lie, but his actions spoke volumes. One of his hands never stopped caressing your soft tummy, your wide hips. His other hand played with your pussy, thrusting in and out in a tortuous way.

“Say it!” He insisted, his tone angry as he pushed two fingers into you forcefully. You cried out, almost there, so close but so far.

“I- I’m pretty,” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. He rewarded you sucking your clit into his mouth, the touch of fangs against your vulnerable flesh made you shudder.

“More,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.” Each word was rewarded by his fingers rubbing perfectly inside of you, a torture like any other, driving you insane with pleasure. “I’m hot.” Each word he forced out of you felt like he was taking a weight from your chest. You felt like you were going to float away.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” He kept playing with you, getting you close to the edge just to go away when you stopped talking. He forced you to be nice to yourself, to say all the things you didn’t believe you were. But he did, he believed. And for the moment, that might be enough. He thought you were beautiful, he thought you were hot. Maybe… maybe he was right. He never lied to you.

You were lost in your thoughts and the pain-pleasure he was giving you when he flicked his tongue over your clit as he hit your G-spot. “Come for me, pretty human. Show me how perfect you are.” And you did, falling apart around his tongue and his fingers. The attack on your senses crashing down onto you.

You had an out of body experience, the tears cool against your cheeks, your rapid breathing coming into short exhales as he played with your pussy to drive you further up. You came so hard you think you saw stars. You felt boneless, your body and your soul completely spent. You felt him cleaning you with a soft cloth, your eyes closing already.

“I will stay with you,” he murmured as you were falling asleep. You felt his arms closing around you, his hands caressing your body, from your wide hips to your soft tummy… He made you feel special, he made you feel beautiful.

#part 2 #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #night monster #night monster x reader #night monster x human #fem!reader #tw: fatphobia #🦝 anon

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annabelle--cane · 3 months ago

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gwen throwing lena under the bus like that is rolling around in my brain because, basically, they've been playing chicken this whole time, right? gwen brings blackmail to the table, lena deliberately under prepares her for assignments in a series of sort of vague half-hearted assassination attempts, and gwen takes liberties and rejects every offer to quit or just go back to her original job. gwen's blackmail doesn't even seem to figure into it anymore, she didn't bring it up when lena demoted her or any of the times lena has threatened to fire her, it's a pure battle of wits and ego at this point and neither of them wants to be the first to flinch. and now in a surely unpredictable turn of events something has gone wildly wrong and they've been connected to some murders.

the ink5oul incident was a particular team effort, because lena was pretty clearly using such a dangerous mission to try and force gwen into check mate. she had to know it was a terrible idea, she said she's the one who usually does the recruiting assignments and ink5oul immediately took against gwen because they clocked that she was too new to the whole game to be taken seriously. but because gwen could tell that lena was using this as a gambit, she ultimately ignored her own misgivings and reacted quite rashly when ink5oul questioned her competence, knocking over the final domino in the inevitable spiral to consequences town.

gwen's problem has been that she's always ready to go low but lena's actually the one with power in this situation. lena can toss her at as many magical serial killers as she wants but all gwen has to fight back with is her measly lena being bad at murder cringe compilation and her passion for endangering the lives of herself and those around her. the second that she gets another mysterious email with more leverage she immediately looks for an in and uses it to betray lena to trevor, the one thing that lena has been treating like a real potential threat to her and the one thing that lena didn't actually seem willing to do to gwen. potentially be responsible for her death-by-bonzo? not ideal, but acceptable. rat her out to the bossman? no no no that's too scary. gwen's weird email gave her an edge, but lena could have cancelled it out by just saying "yes, I think I know who's responsible, take her away, minster," and she didn't.

lena has always been willing to use her position as an employer against gwen to coerce her into danger, but she's spent the last few weeks quite visibly on edge about the possibility of her own employer bringing harm to her in some way, and refusing to cross the line of siccing him on gwen was her first flinch, leaving gwen open to use her position of class (or, in trevor's words, "quality") against lena by immediately getting the minister on her side.

#new discourse topic: if a working class boss throws an upper class employee into the torment nexus #and the employee weaponizes her class against the boss in her HR complaint #then who is the good comrade and who is the class traitor?#tmagp #marina marvels at life

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iamnmbr3 · 1 month ago

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Great answers! I do love the idea of Sirius as DADA teacher!

Here's another one for you: rank these characters from worst to best for the post of Minister of Magic

Albus Dumbledore

Lucius Malfoy

Sirius Black (again cause I love him and I read a fic about this once)

Minerva McGonagall

Barty Crouch Sr.

oh god. these clowns would all be such terrible minsters of magic. why are you doing this to me? ok fine. here goes.

Lucius Malfoy: I think because movie!Lucius was sort of toned down and defanged fandom sometimes forget what a nasty piece of work book!Lucius was before he had his downfall and got all sad and pathetic. Fanon!Lucius often gets turned into kind of a joke but book!Lucius was out there torturing muggles for fun by night while he had the ear of the Minister by day and was, seemingly, extremely adept at subtly spreading his pureblood supremacist agenda in government. (Honestly, better at it than Tom because unlike Tom he actually cared). Also in book 4 it's very clear that if he had gotten hold of Hermione - a fourteen year old child - on the World Cup grounds he would've attacked her without hesitation (been eager for it, in fact). Yeah he wasn't down with Voldemort's whole thing but that was more because of the effect it had on him personally. with Voldemort out of the picture he was top dog and he was doing just fine. All this to say, as Minister the policies he enacts are...not good to say the least. He'd be out there building a violent pureblood supremacist dictatorship in a heartbeat.

Albus Dumbledore: Albus says he can't be trusted with the power of being Minister and honestly...I believe him. He'd still play the same messed up manipulation games he plays in canon but on a much larger scale (while simultaneously feeling bad about it and telling himself it's for the greater good). He does some truly epic mental gymnastics to convince himself he needs to make himself dictator for life and then things spiral because obviously anyone who resists him is evil right? Right? Of course! The alternative is that he is wrong and he doesn't want to think about that. Also, he doesn't seem that bothered by house elf slavery and his ideas for getting nonhuman magical creatures on his side in canon seemed to involve asking nicely but not actually granting them rights. So I'm not super optimistic on that front. So yeah. This just turns into the whole of wizarding Britain getting gaslit and thrown into insane situations by a madman who seems so wholesome and lovable and yet... Also. Given how poorly organized the Order is I think it's safe to say that all other flaws aside, the man does not have a gift for management.

Barty Crouch Sr.: Listen. He ALSO sucks. Very clearly ok with slavery, not a fan of due process, and allowed Aurors to torture confessions out of suspects. His only saving grace is that he does love rules so he'd probably eventually step down and wouldn't make as many potentially damaging changes as Dumbledore.

Minerva McGonagall: Her no nonsense attitude ensures that any meeting she runs actually accomplishes things. She's smart. She's sane. She's stable. She doesn't care about ending slavery or changing the status quo, but she's a lot better than most of the options. She's not especially creative or good at political games though which often hampers her ability to carry out objectives and prevent bad actors (i.e. Lucius and his faction) from getting their way.

Sirius Black: What does the man who hates authority do when he finds himself in a position of ultimate authority? I don't know but I'd love to read about it! Sirius is actually pretty shrewd (contrary to fanon) and I think he'd actually turn out to be a natural at handling politics (much as he might hate it). He also understands traditional pureblood society (he is a Black after all) but he doesn't idolize it (he hates being a Black) which would allow him to understand and work with multiple factions. Additionally he can be forceful and authoritative. He's impatient, often biased and unfair, sometimes quite cruel, can be temperamental, and again, has 0 problem with slavery. So like. He's not good per say, but he's actually better than some of the others. (At least with him meetings are never dull because if he gets bored enough he just turns into a dog and eats the agenda).

#asks #Sirius Black #Harry Potter #my meta #meta

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arealphrooblem · 1 year ago

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Kidnapped by the Boss Part 6

Part one here

Synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

CW: Hunger Strike, disordered eating *summary of chapter will be at the bottom for anyone who wants to skip it.*

Breakfast was delivered via servant a short while after he dropped her off. Her stomach roiled at the sight of all her favorites carefully arranged on the tray. It reminded her, quite forcefully, of how her grandmother used to wrap bitter pills in peanut butter balls or turkey for her ailing dog.

He wanted so badly to preserve the relationship they had before, as if he hadn’t completely obliterated it himself. He must have thought it would keep her complacent when her fear faded out.

He thought he knew her, but he had only ever seen her at her job. And sure, some days were hard and he caught a glimpse of her frustration or anxiety. As the years bled into each other, he learned little things about her, like her favorite foods or the TV shows that she rewatched obsessively.

But he never actually saw her. Even at the height of her newfound crush on him, Val kept a tight lid on any unprofessional slip ups and her personal life rarely leaked over into her job.

He thought patient, reliable, helpful Val was the only facet of her being. He knew nothing of the depths of her rage, her pig-headed stubbornness,

She took a slice of toast and threw the rest in the trash.

“Knock knock, Val. I hope you’re decent.”

The driver’s voice sounded about two seconds before the door opened. Of course, by the afternoon Val had already showered and dressed for the day. Still, it was a little unsettling how little time he’d give her if she wasn’t.

“Does it ever get old, coming here to irritate the shit out of me?” she demands, crossing her arms.

“Angel, it got old the first time.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you think it's my choice to be here?”

“Do you actually have free will or are you just a highly realistic robot?”

“Do you want a tour of the castle or do you want to stay stuck in this room?”

“ . . .What?”

“Apparently the rumor goes that your incredibly lavish and luxurious rooms are not good enough for you. So I’ve been tasked to show you around, let you stretch your legs or whatever.”

“Stretch my legs?” she repeated skeptically. “Where? Over the edge of the roof?”

“Or, you know, to the library. Or the zoo.”

“There’s a zoo here?”

The driver waved his hand dismissively. “Technically a rescue animal sanctuary. He calls it a menagerie because he’s pretentious as hell. But let’s be real — its a glorified petting zoo.”

A zoo and a library. Val had to admit both intrigued her greatly. Staying in this room did her no favors, mentally, with nothing to do but stew in her own fear and frustration.

She opened her mouth to comply and then promptly shut it closed.

Bitter pill. Peanut Butter.

Any kindness from him came with strings, no doubt, so he could yank her around like a little puppet.

“No,” she said instead. “I’m staying here.”

The driver’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to kill you unless he asks me to — no matter how annoying you are. And if he does, I’ll snap your neck. Quick, efficient. Shoving you off the roof is cowardly and makes too big of a mess.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but it has nothing to do with that. I just don’t want to go. You can tell your king to stick his zoo and his library up his ass.”

The driver gave her a long stare. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn fucking idiot?”

“Once or twice.”

He shook his head. “If you want to go slowly insane in this room, have at it, I guess.”

Lunch came. Her stomach growled at the sight of her favorite sandwich but she forced herself to throw that away too. (she ate the pickle spear though). He wanted something from her and he wasn’t going to get it just because he plied her with food and entertainment.

A cage was a cage.

She didn’t even bother to check what dinner was. The tray and lid sat untouched on the table for the servants to whisk away tomorrow.

Hunger woke up her up later that night, her mouth dry. Head dizzy. Her stomach cramped with it, a howling beast. It was so tempting to tear the lid of the dinner off and eat it with her hands that she went and locked herself in the bathroom for a while.

A few handfuls of water from the sink was all she allowed herself. When she felt strong enough, she set the tray in the bathroom floor and shut the door to block the temptation. Sleep claimed her for a long time.

“My lady. You need to wake up.”

A hand kept delicately patting her shoulder, chasing her out of another nightmare. She jerked awake, scrambling to sit up in the bed.

One of the servants, a woman old enough to be her mother with a calm but impassive face, stared down at her. Her uniform was immaculate.

“I’m sorry,” Val found herself saying. “What — what time is it? Has something happened?”

“It is nearly eleven, ma’am. His majesty will be here in roughly ten minutes with breakfast. I advise you to dress.”

“Ten minutes?” she squawked.

“Do you need any assistance?” the woman asked.

God her head was splitting now that sleep started to fall away. “Painkillers?” she asked weakly. “My head hurts.”

To her surprise, the woman gave her a stern look. “I’m sure it does,” she said with a bland tone that did not match the look in her eyes.

The woman swept off through the door without another look in Val’s direction.

What was that about? she wondered as she stumbled to the dresser. But the fogginess in her head lay too thick to figure it out. She felt like complete and utter shit and the last thing she felt ready to deal with was him.

The bed beckoned her with its feather pillows and down comforter and high thread count sheets. She stared longingly back for a moment, debating on how convincingly she could pretend to sleep when he showed up, before sighing and putting on a fresh change of clothes.

She had just tamed her hair into another pony tail when a knock came from the door.

“Rise and shine, princess,” said the driver’s voice.

Goddamn it. She had to deal with both of them.

“Can we reschedule?” she yelled out. “I’m busy.”

“I’m afraid not, love,” said the king’s voice. “I’d rather not wait.”

She did not like the sound of that. “Fine,” she growled. “Let’s get this over with.”

The door opened, the driver propping it open with his foot as the king stepped in with a large covered tray.

“I don’t know why you bother with knocking,” the driver muttered. “It’s not like her permission matters.”

“Because I have manners,” the king sniffed, setting the tray down on the table. “Unlike some people.”

He looked up and gave her a wink, as if sharing an inside joke.

“You don’t keep me around for manners.” The driver hopped up on her unmade bed, pulling a knife from his belt and setting it on the comforter.

“Make yourself at home,” Val said scathingly.

“How generous of you.” He bared his teeth in a dangerous smile. “I think I will.”

The king made himself busy setting out the spread. Toast and jams and sausage links and cubed cheese and a thermos of coffee with delicate china cups.

“Children, play nice. It’s not even noon. Val, please, heave a seat.”

Just looking at the food made her stomach rebel, even as the rest of her body desperately craved it. The smell invaded her nose, making her swallow back a gag. God, why couldn’t she just sleep all day? It’s not like she had anything else to do.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “What do you want now?”

“I have something for you.” The king lowered himself down in the chair opposite of her and gestured for her to do the same. “But first, we should eat.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You’ll think differently when you see what it is. Now sit.”

He gave her a warning look, the danger of his true self slipping out from behind the mask. Val sat, feeling the presence of the assassin behind her with a knife like a prickle on the back of her neck.

“Which jam would you like on your toast?” he asked. “We have peach, strawberry, lemon chardonnay, and cherry.”

“No thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. Her stomach felt as if it were trying to eat itself.

“I insist you try the lemon chardonnay, it’s phenomenal. I have it every morning.”

He covered a triangle of toast in a thin layer of bright yellow jam before setting it on a tiny plate and handing it to her. The citrus smell washed over her, intoxicating. Any other time she would have devoured it. She loved lemon flavored pastries and he knew it. Which was why it didn’t cost her much to set her plate down off to the side and ignore it.

The wave of twisted self satisfaction more than made up for her hunger.

Next he poured her a glass of clear water from another thermos and slid it over to her.

“Water?”

“I’m not thirsty.”

She wanted to drown herself in that glass of water, but she’d rather drop dead than give him that satisfaction. He wanted her to eat and drink so badly. He wanted her healthy enough to pretend that her life wasn’t in his hands. To forget how responsible he was for ruining it.

She wouldn’t let him.

“You are thirsty, though,” he said, his stare cutting her from across the table. “Because you haven’t eaten or drank anything in almost three days.”

“That’s not true.”

She had a pickle slice. And a piece of plain toast. And some water from the sink. His gaze narrowed, though, the previous warmth in his gaze clouding over.

“Oh but it is. The servants have found your food in the trash after every meal, save for last night’s dinner, which they found in the bathroom while you were sleeping.”

“I’m still figuring that one out,” muttered the driver from behind her.

“Why does it matter what I do with my food,” she retorted.

Silence answered her. Silence and that unnerving gaze pinning her down like a push pin in a cork board. She fought the urge to squirm under it, to feel like a student confronted by an angry principal. Though only a decade separated them, she felt like a child around him at times. A silly, clueless child.

But of course . . . He wasn’t actually a decade older. He was several decades older. Over a century older, at least in his mind.

“Val.”

He kept using her name like it meant something to him and it pissed her off.

“Eugene,” she said, his old name still feeling like sacrilege to the part of her brain still clinging to her previous professionalism.

If it bothered him, he showed no sign.

“I know what this is,” he said finally.

Her hackles raised.

“Breakfast” she said, raising a brow.

“Control,” he countered. “Rebellion. Whittling yourself down to spite me.”

She hated how easily he saw through her. How well he could guess what laid under her professional mask when she couldn’t get a read on him at all.

“Maybe I don’t like the food,” she said, purposefully obtuse.

“Nonsense,” he said dismissively. “I know everything you like.”

“You’re not going to get anywhere because of that,” she snapped. “I’m not a kid you can bribe with candy and a trip to the zoo.”

“So that’s what this is.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I’m not trying to bribe you, Val. I’m just trying to feed you.”

“Well I don’t want to eat it.”

“Would you rather I send you food that you hate? French onion soup and pork rinds and spicy curry? Would that make you feel better?”

“I’m not eating anything that you give me.” She crossed her arms, fingers clenching tight at her sides, feeling as if she were digging and digging further into her own grave.

She would rather die than give him any kind of satisfaction and it scared her that that thought could be literal. But she didn’t know how to back down yet she couldn’t stomach the thought of giving him the one thing she could deny him when he had taken everything else.

“For how long? Because I’m not sure if you noticed, Val, but the only food available to you comes from me.”

She shrugged, not having an answer. It’s not like she planned a hunger strike. But refusing to eat fueled the rage simmering inside her and that felt so much better than the fear. It felt like she could do something, even if it only hurt herself.

His gaze flickered over her shoulder for a moment before returning to hers.

“It stops today. I am not leaving this room until you eat something.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” she retorted with bravado she didn’t feel.

Especially with the hands that dropped suddenly onto her shoulders. She launched forward, even when she had nowhere to run, but the hands grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms back behind the chair. Tugging only brought sharp pain in her shoulders, the driver’s hands a shackle around her own.

The king stood up and stepped towards her. “You will eat today, by your hand or by mine. The choice is yours. And if you make either impossible I will chain you to a hospital bed and an IV drip. To be fair you might be close to that already with your dehydration. So we will start with that glass of water.”

He plopped a glass straw into the cup and held it out for her.

“Why does this matter so much that I live?” she demanded. “That I’m healthy? What does it matter to you what I do to myself?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he set the glass back down on the table and knelt down on one knee beside her chair, hand resting lightly on the arm. It brought him a few inches under her gaze so he had to look up, dark eyes fathomless. She couldn’t tell what emotion shone out of them, but it burned unfiltered.

“I must admit, when I pulled you into the car and onto the plane I didn’t know what I was going to do with you,” he said quietly. “ But I never considered torture or punishment — you’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, it didn’t matter, because you have done nothing but torment yourself since you got here.”

She broke away from his gaze, her stomach twisting uncomfortably, but he didn’t stop.

“You don’t sleep and then you stop eating. You live in constant fear despite our reassurances that you’re safe. I try to give you comforts, things to make you happy and you reject it all. It’s not meant as a bribe to lull you into complacency or servitude. The reason why you’re here is because you cared about me enough to risk your safety and I refuse to have you punished for it but that’s exactly what will happen when you go back home.”

Fingers nudged her chin until their gaze met again.

“I’m trying to give you a life here. Bit by bit. Will you let me?”

He looked so beseeching, so soft. It hurt. She wanted to believe it so bad.

“You tell me I’m safe but you’ve threatened my life multiple times since I got in that car,” she pointed out. “You both have. He especially loves to point out how I live on borrowed time and borrowed favor,” she added, jerking her chin back towards the driver.

Ice settled in those dark eyes as he flickered them over her shoulder. Immediately the driver released her arms, relief following immediately afterwards. She shook them out, then cradled them to her chest.

“Rook has a penchant for practicality that borders on the sociopathic,” the king said. “And I haven’t threatened you so much as warned.” He took one of her hands in his. “I’ve been building up to this moment for three lifetimes and I cannot allow anyone to stand in my way. Not even you. So long as you don’t actively impede me, you have nothing to fear from me.”

She swallowed. “You’re a very terrifying person for someone who wants my trust.”

He smiled then, a soft rueful thing. “I was not always so. Will you trust me, anyway, Val?”

And this was why he was elected, she thought with a mental shake of her head, despite his vague past and unknown status.

“I will . . .consider it,” she said slowly.

“And will you eat with me? . . . .Please?”

Val sighed deeply, knowing she lost this round. “Yes.”

His smile spread, slow and bright, like the sun coming up over the ridge and butterflies rioted in her chest to meet it. Goddamn it. If kidnapping and captivity and threat of potential murder wouldn't kill this stupid crush, did she have any hope at all of ever being rid of it?

Tag list:

@rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @tobeornottobeateacher @burningkittypoet @kurai-hono-blog @clover-sage

Summary: Val goes on a spontaneous hunger strike, not really intending it to be one but because she sees serving her favorite foods as a bribe to get her to comply. She compares it to the peanut butter her grandmother wraps medicine in for her dog.

After three days of very little to eat and drink, the king and the driver visit with breakfast. The king tries to force her to eat, Val and the King have a confrontation when she refuses, and he admits that he isn't trying to bribe her, but to help her make a life here since she will be punished if she ever went back home. He doesn't want her punished just because she cared enough about him to look for him in the parking lot. Eventually Val agrees to eat again and she says she will consider trusting his word when he told her he didn't want to hurt or kill her.

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #heroes and villains #writeblr #original fiction #kidnapped by the boss #named characters #enemies to lovers #fantasci tumblr #my writing

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rocknroll7575 · 9 months ago

Text

Knight of Olympus: Titan's Lullaby - Chapter 5: Jaune Gets Jumped

Sitting in the white desert on a lawn chair, was a woman who appeared to be in her late 50s maybe early 60s, and behind her was a large tent, and inside the tent, a female figure slept peacefully in the tent.

The older woman's skin was a light tan color, she had raven black hair that was tied into long braids that rested on each side of her shoulders, and a golden headband around her head, her eyes were a piercing gold color, but you would have to look past her light purple circle sunglasses. Around her neck was a gold necklace with the peace sign on it, she wore a white sundress with grape vines on it for the designs, and around her waist was a golden belt, and finally, she wore a pair of black gladiator sandals.

Sitting next to her were two large lions, and in her hand was a book, however, there was no title on the cover, but she seemed to be lost in the world of the book.

However, she was taken out of her reading when she felt something appear not too far away from her, the presence of two gods, and with them was the presence of three demigods, however, there was something else, something that didn't belong and felt...Powerful.

Instantly, she knew what- Who it was, and a smile graced her face. She got up and set her book on her chair before looking at her two lions with a soft smile, "Come boys, we have guests," She said as she began to walk away.

The two lions got up, stretched, and yawned, before following their owner, wondering where she would be leading them, and they left the sleeping figure alone in the tent, as they dreamed about a knight...

XXX

EARLIER THAT DAY:

"So let me get this straight," Thalia began as she looked at Jaune from the passenger seat. "Because you entered our world, the laws of the ancient Greek world are slowly crumbling away, and not only are the laws being broken and disappearing, but the gods are slowly... dying," Thalia said.

The group had arrived in New Mexico, and currently, they were still driving toward White Sand National Park.

All three Demigods said was a miracle that they had driven on the open road for so long without any Minster attacks, and Jaune couldn't help but agree, as he had heard it was usual for monsters to get in the way of Demigod's quests, yet, the only thing that had happened to them was Theia's attack at the start.

Jaune nodded, answering Thalia's question, "Yeah... but I don't think the gods are dying," He replied softly

"What else would you describe what Apollo called what he was feeling?" Drew asked with a raised brow.

Jaune shrugged, "I don't know... He said he felt more Human," Jaune replied. "Could it be they're just losing their immortality?" Jaune asked.

Will slowly nodded, "Maybe," Will replied, "Dad's been human plenty of times, but always regained his immortality afterward, maybe this time it's just more permanent," Will said.

Jaune could tell Will was only agreeing with him because the young boy didn't want to believe his father was dying, and Jaune didn't want to believe it either as Apollo seemed like a good God, and if he was dying... then so was Hestia.

Jaune didn't want that to happen to her. Yes, he had met her for a brief moment, but it had left a mark on him. He looked at the gifts he had been given by the Goddess and he thought back to her.

Her bright auburn hair and coal-burning eyes would forever be in his memories, and that loving presence she gave off was something that Jaune had never felt, it was as if his heart and soul were being warmed by her loving fire.

"If this is all true and if the Gods are either dying or becoming human, then does that mean the Titans are feeling the same?" Drew asked.

Jaune thought about it and slowly nodded, "I think so, it wouldn't make sense just to affect the Gods," Jaune said. "Apollo also mentioned that all of this could be because of people called Protogenoi, who are they?" He asked.

Hearing this, the two younger Demigods were shocked.

"Apollo thinks the Primordials are involved!?" Drew cried.

"Primordials?" Jaune and Thalia asked.

Will sat forward as he looked at the two, "Primordials are beings that surpass the Titans, and unlike the Titans and the gods, they are essentially sentient aspects of the universe itself and have absolute and total control over it, so they can never truly be killed, Gaea and Ouranos are two examples, there's a few more such as Tartarus and Nyx but the oldest and most ancient one would be Chaos," The son of Apollo informed them. "If Dad thinks that they are behind this then something big is going on, something that we don't have the answers to just yet..." Will said.

Hearing this, Jaune wondered just what these Primordials could do, if Will was right and they were all powerful beings that couldn't die like the Titans Or Gods, then surely they were a force that one did not want to mess with.

The conversation ended there for the time being as they continued to drive toward their destination, their minds back on the task that lay before them.

After another 30 minutes or so of driving, they had finally arrived at White Sand National Park. Even from the Entrance, they could see the White Sands, and Jaune had to admit, the Oracle's Prophecy was right, it was the whitest sand he had ever seen. They bought tickets to enter the park and when they saw the National park's white sand, the 3 demigods were shocked, as while they did have deserts in the US, nothing could compare to what appeared to be a vast landscape of the whitest sand they had ever seen.

"You know... I bet Annabeth would know so much about this place," Will said.

Drew nodded in agreement, "Yep, her and her monuments and parks," Drew chuckled.

Thalia looked at the two with a raised brow, "Is she really that obsessed with Monuments and Parks?" She asked.

Drew nodded, "Trust me, every time we visit New York and see an old building or statue, she knows who built it, the year, why it was built, everything," She told the Daughter of Zeus.

Thalia nodded and felt a little sad that she didn't know about Annabeth, but a part of her said she couldn't blame herself since the whole Tree thing. Thalia had hoped that when they arrived back at Camp, she could spend more time and catch up with Annabeth.

After buying a ticket, they drove in and around, before finding a secluded spot where they finally parked the Van and got out before huddling up to come up with a plan.

Once out of the Van, Will looked at Jaune with a raised brow, "So, now what?" Will asked.

"We look for a camp, Chiron said that some Titans and Titaness have been calling this place home for a good while," Jaune said.

"So we're looking for a camp... great," Thalia said with sarcasm, "At a place like this, it's gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack!" She cried.

Jaune couldn't help but agree, the amount of campers here was to be expected, and it didn't make their job any easier. "I know, but we're gonna have to do it," Jaune said.

"How do we even know the camp when we find it?" Drew asked.

Jaune opened his mouth to answer her only to realize that he had no idea.

"You have no idea, huh?" Thalia said.

Jaune nodded with a sigh, "Yeah..." He replied.

Drew chuckled, "Guess we're just gonna have to start looking, huh?" He said.

Jaune nodded, however, before they could do anything, they heard the the sound of a motorcycle closing in, and that's when the whole group felt something wrong. The Demigods felt waves of power hitting them, and it sent shivers down their spine, and they froze in place, unable to move out of sheer fear. Jaune quickly turned around when he heard the sound right behind a dune and that's when he saw the Motorcycle fly up in the air, and was about to crash right down atop of them, and thinking quickly, Jaune grabbed all three teens and jumped out of the way, helping the Demigods avoid the near-death experience.

When the three came to their senses they looked at the bike with shock as they and Jaune got to their feet, and looked at the bike along with its driver.

Jaune looked at the man and saw that he looked like the stereotypical biker, bald head, sunglasses, leather jacket, ripped jeans, and black boots. However, what stood out was the greatsword strapped to his back, one that looked too well crafted for some random warrior or a monster.

Jaune had only seen him once, but he knew who he was, he could feel the bloodthirstiness radiating off this man, and for a brief moment, Jaune was reminded of a certain Scorpian Faunus.

"Ares...?" Jaune asked with confusion and shock.

Ares got off his bike and turned to the knight and the three Demigods with a sinister smirk, "Hey punks," He said.

"Lord Ares? What brings you here?" Will asked with a raised brow.

"I'm here for him," Ares said, pointing at Jaune. "See, he's been causing some problems for us Gods that we can't let slide," He said.

Jaune grits his teeth, realizing that somehow, Ares knew about what his presence was doing to their world. "How do you know about that?" Jaune asked.

"Doesn't matter," Ares said. "I've been given permission to kill you, and that's what I'm gonna do," Ares told him with a smirk.

The young knight glared at the god of war, "Who gave you permission?" Jaune asked.

Ares continued to smirk and Jaune could have sworn he saw an orange glow behind those shades, "My father," Ares said.

Hearing this, Thalia glared at her half-brother, "No Way!" She cried.

"Yes, way!" Ares said with a laugh. "Now, why don't the rest of you lil brats runoff, or else,"

Will stood next to Jaune with his bow at the ready, "Or else what? Are you going to kill us? If you couldn't kill Percy, what makes you think you stand a chance against three of us?" Will asked.

Hearing about his previous loss to the son of the sea God caused Ares to growl in anger, "I'd watch that tongue of yours, kid," Ares told Will, "Jackson got lucky," Ares snarled.

'Percy fought Ares and won!?' Jaune asked himself.

Suddenly, they heard the hoot of an owl and Ares smiled smugly at the group. "Besides, I'm not alone this time," He told them.

Before they could ask what he meant, there was a flash of light for a brief second before appearing right next to him was Athena, all dressed and ready to fight.

"Lady Athena!?" Drew cried in shock.

Thalia was shocked to see the god of wisdom standing next to Ares, and Thalia had a gut feeling she wasn't there to help them. "What are you doing here?" Thalia asked.

Ares chuckled, "She's here to help me," Ares said.

Hearing that, the Demigods were shocked, after all, the two were bitter rivals and could hardly stand each other.

Athena looked at Jaune with her cold grey eyes, "I'm afraid that it has come to this, I would have loved to hear about your world and learn of it, however, your presence can no longer go on," Athena told him, "For balance to be restored, you must die,"

Thalia quickly summoned her shield and spear and stood next to Jaune, ready to fight, "Bring it on," she seethed.

"You're off limits, Thalia Grace," Athena told her.

"Dad said not to harm a hair on your pretty little head," Ares said with an amused tone before he set his sights on the other two Demigods, "But if you two decide to jump in, you're free game,"

Jaune quickly took a step forward as he glared at the god of war, "You're not touching them," Jaune told him.

"Let us kill you and they'll be sparred," Ares said. "Make this difficult, and I'll shove my sword through one of the brat's chests," Ares told him with a small chuckle.

Jaune's anger boiled over as he quickly activated Beauté brûlante and the shield. "The three of you stay out of this for now," Jaune told them, before turning his head to them, "Wait for an opening, Will, then fire, understood?" Jaune asked with a whisper.

Will looked at him and nodded.

Jaune nodded back, "Now get as far as you can, gain some distance away from them, if any of them get near you, they could use you as a hostage," Jaune told them again in a whisper.

Thalia wanted to argue and help him fight but realized that if she stuck with Will and Drew and either Ares or Athena tried to nab one of them, she could step in and fight, as they'd be forced to hold back in fear of hurting her. The three Demigods rushed to gain distance from the two gods, and as they did, Ares and Athena took fighting stances, and both realized what Jaune was making them do, realizing what he had whispered to them.

'Interesting, he very much knew what he might do should Ares or I get ahold of Apollo and Aphrodite's children,' Athena thought, 'But does he truly believe he can hold both of us off? If he does, he's a fool, and my plan should work, that is if Ares doesn't do anything stupid,' Athena thought.

Ares smirked at Jaune, "Ready to die?" He asked.

Jaune glared at him as he took a fighting stance, "Let's just get this over with," He said bluntly.

Ares didn't wait a second longer as he charged in first, closely followed by Athena, and when Ares was closed in Jaune quickly blocked him with his shield and then pushed him away before quickly deflecting Athena's jab with her spear. Jaune then backed up and saw the two try to attack once again, however, when Ares slashed at him again, Jaune simply used his shield to strike him in the rib causing the god of war to lose all the air in his lungs, and Jaune used his shield to bash him in the face.

As Ares stumbled backward, Athena charged in and jabbed her spear at Jaune multiple times but Jaune dodged and deflected each of her jabs, before his back struck the side of the van, and it was here that Athena thought she had him as she pulled her spear back and thrust forward, but Jaune moved his head to the side as the spear pierced the side of the van, and before she could pull it out, Jaune raised his right foot up and then kicked her in the gut, sending her back without her spear.

As the two Gods regained themselves, Jaune looked at them and twirled his sword. "Come on," Jaune seethed, "I'm not done with you,"

Ares stopped and glared at the mortal as he gripped his sword tighter, "Don't get cocky, mortal!" Ares cried as he charged in again.

Ares pulled his blade back and swung at Jaune, but Jaune blocked it with his sword, and then pushed his blade away, before he swung back at the God, however, Ares blocked the attack with his blade, and the two locked blades and glared at one another.

Athena quickly thrust her spear at Jaune's face, and sensing this coming, Jaune backed away, causing Ares's blade to strike the sand and Athena's spear to miss.

"Damn it!" Ares cried. "Stay still you mongrel!"

Jaune glared at them, "For a couple of all-powerful beings, your skill in combat is lacking," Jaune said. "You haven't fought in years have you? Haven't had a single person challenge you in a long time, huh?"

Ares growled, and even Athena glared at him, both unwilling to admit that he was right, and their skills were lacking for a long time, since for the longest time, they had no need to fight.

"I don't care about you trying to kill me, but you threatened the lives of my campers, you threatened the lives of innocent kids, and that pisses me off," Jaune said. "Fotiá,"

Flames burst out of the blade and the two gods were shocked, and both could swear that they could feel the heat from where they were.

"I'll give you one chance, walk away, or I will kill you," Jaune told them as if stating a fact.

Athena glared at him, "You believe you can kill a god?" She asked. "We're immortal you fool, we can not die, not by monsters, demigods, and surely not by the likes of you, human," She seethed.

"Are you sure about that?"

Hearing a new voice, all three turned their heads to the source of the voice only to see the old woman and her two lions, and with her were Thalia, Will, and Drew.

Ares glared at the older woman, "Who the hell are you!?" Ares asked.

The woman smiled at him softly, "Ah, I suppose none of you have ever really seen me before," She said. "Well, firstly, a pleasure to meet you, my grandchildren," She said softly.

Jaune was confused, 'Grandchildren?' Jaune asked himself.

Hearing this old woman call them grandchildren, Ares and Athena froze as their eyes widened in absolute horror, as they realized whose presence they stood in. The Demigods themselves looked at the older woman with raised brows at first before coming to the same realization as the two Gods and they quickly bowed on one knee.

The woman looked at the demigods and giggled softly, "Please, there is no need to bow, be at ease, children, we are family, are we not?"

Hearing this, the Demigod children seemed to relax and stand up, and as they did, Ares and Athena also seemed to relax, and when they did, the woman's head snapped toward them and her eyes glowed gold, "Did I say you could be at ease?" She asked.

Athena and Ares once again stiffened as they looked at her, and Jaune swore the two were sweating and breathing rapidly, which made Jaune wonder just who this old woman was.

The woman's eyes dimmed and returned to normal and walked toward the two gods still smiling softly, however, Jaune had seen a smile like that before, on his very own mother, when she was about to be strict and scary, but still kept that sweet and loving expression, which was the scariest thing to all the Arc children.

"Athena, Ares, would you kindly explain to me why you are here, and why you are trying to kill Jaune Arc?" She asked.

Athena looked at her, "You must understand, Jaune Arc is-"

The woman's eyes glowed golden once more as she turned her head to the Goddess of wisdom, "I asked for an explanation," She sternly said. "Not an excuse,"

Athena gulped, "Ares and I came here to kill Jaune Arc because he poses a threat to the order of all things," Athena said. "Father and Hera agreed to this as well,"

The woman's eyes returned to normal, and she let out a sigh, "Of course they did," she said as she closed her eyes. "Leave," She told them.

Ares glared at her, and he took a step forward toward the woman, "Wait a damn-!"

However, before he could say more, one of the Lions pounced on the God of War and snarled at him, bearing its fangs and ready to bite him when given the order.

"Leave," The woman repeated, this time in a more stern tone, one befitting a mother.

Athena nodded quickly and flashed away and the lion got off of Ares and the god of war quickly stood up and did the same as his sister, flashing away along with his bike.

The woman let out another sigh and shook her head slowly, "Ugh, why must my children make everything so difficult?" She asked herself.

"Um... excuse me?"

The woman turned to Jaune with a raised brow, "Yes, Jaune?" She asked.

Jaune looked at her, wondering how she knew his name, but there was a more important question on his mind. "Who... Are you?" the young knight asked.

Hearing this question, the woman realized she had forgotten to introduce herself to the man from another world and a bashful smile graced her lips, "Oh, how careless of me, please forgive this old woman for forgetting her manners," She began. "I am Rhea, Queen of the Titans and mother of the gods, a pleasure to meet you,"

XXX

Back at Rhea's little camp, Jaune, Thalia, Will, and Drew, sat in lawn chairs with Rhea, who had them gather around a dead campfire. Rhea sat and petted her lions as she looked at the group with a loving smile.

"It's been so long since I've crossed paths with Demigods, one who happens to be my grandchild and two who are my great-grandchildren!" Rhea said joyfully. "Ah, the fates have blessed me today,"

Thalia smiled at her grandmother, which felt weird to say, "It's great to finally meet you, Lady Rhea," Thalia said.

Rhea chuckled, "Oh no need for formalities, my dear Thalia, Grandmother is more than fine, I'd prefer it," She said with a bright smile.

Thalia nodded, "Of course, Grandma," Thalia replied.

Rhea's smile widened, "Ah, you are so cute! You have your father's eyes! Tell me, have any boys proposed to you yet?" Rhea asked.

Thalia blushed furiously as she looked at her grandmother, "I-I'm only fifteen!" Thalia cried.

Rhea chuckled, "I know, I know, just a little jest," She said. Rhea then turned to Will and Drew, "Now, how have you two been?" She asked.

"I'm doing well, Grandma," Will replied with a bright smile.

Drew nodded in agreement, "Same for me," She replied.

Rhea nodded, "Good to hear, haven't been doing anything too dangerous, I hope?" She asked.

Drew nodded, "Nope," She replied, however, the daughter of Aphrodite remembered something, "Well, except for that little run-in with Theia,"

Hearing her sister's name, Rhea sighed, "Ah, poor Theia," She said. "Please, forgive my sister, she has... not been the same since the passing of her children," Rhea said sadly.

Thalia rolled her eyes, "I'd forgive her when she apologizes for trying to kill us and curing Jaune," Thalia said.

Hearing this, Rhea turned to the older blonde, "Theia cursed you?" She asked.

Jaune nodded, "Yes," He replied. "She cursed me with seeing ghosts of my past," Jaune replied.

"How did she do it?" Rhea asked with a raised brow.

Jaune blushed a little and he could hear Will and Thalia holding back their laughter. "She... uh... well she kissed me," Jaune replied.

Rhea's eyes widened with shock before a small smile graced her lips, "I see... that is, one way to curse a person," She replied.

The dam broke as Thalia and Will began laughing loudly at how their grandmother was also shocked by how Jaune was cursed.

Jauen groaned as he looked to the Queen of Titans, "Is there a way you can remove the curse?" Jaune asked.

Rhea sighed, "Afraid not," She replied. "Only my sister can release the curse, be that by her own volition or her death," Rhea told him.

Hearing this, Jaune let out a heavy sigh as he looked to the ground.

"But I believe you didn't come here just to chat with an old woman, now did you?" Rhea asked.

Jaune looked back up at the Titaness and nodded, "Yeah," he told her. "I was sent here by the Oracle, but I... I don't know why," He told her.

Rhea smiled, "I know why," She said. "You're here for answers as to what is going on and why your mere presence is affecting our world... and you came for her," Rhea told him.

Jaune nodded and when he heard the last part of Rhea's sentence, he looked at her with a confused face, "Her?" He asked.

Rhea nodded, "Yes,"

Before Jaune could ask who the Titan Queen was referring to, he heard yawning coming from the tent and heard someone cry out, like a baby would try calling out to a mother without actually using words.

"I'm out here, dear," Rhea said with a smile.

"Oah!" Cried the person inside the tent.

The flap opened up fully and the person inside stepped out of the tent and revealed themselves to the rest of the group, the moment they showed who they were, Jaune stood up quickly in shock, knocking over his chair in the process.

Standing barefooted before the young knight, in nothing but a long white nightgown was Penny Polendina, who looked as cheerful as she always had before.

Penny's eyes landed on Jaune and a bright and big smile graced her features as she rushed over to him and leaped toward him. Jaune was in shock but quickly caught her as she wrapped her arms around her.

"Oah! Oah!" Penny cried as she held him tighter.

Jaune was shocked that she was hugging him, but he began to wonder why she was speaking like someone who could formulate words or speak any language, his eyes fell on the Queen of Titans and he looked at her with a questioning look.

"What... happened to her?" Jaune asked.

Rhea sighed, "You may want to pick up that chair of yours, Jaune Arc," Rhea began, "You are gonna need it," She told him, looking at him with her golden eyes, which now looked sad.

XXX

I am sickened guys, I'm absolutely disgusted! You know why!? Because Warner Bros. fucking shut down RT meaning RWBY, RvB, and Gen:Lock is in Limbo! That just fucking blows!

But no! Not only did I learn RWBY was now in Limbo waiting to be bought for god knows how long, no I learned that Akira Toriyama had passed! Like what the fuck!?

This week has just not been my week... This is also why I'm also choosing to torture you guys as well. (It was part of my plan for the story anyway~)

Hey! You agreed to be a part of the ride the moment you began reading and made it this far, don't back out now!

Anyway, Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I know you'll be back for the next one, after all, how can you leave now with this major cliffhanger~?

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #rwby x pjo #rwby knight of olympus #thalia grace #will solace #drew tanaka #ares pjo #athena pjo #rhea pjo #penny polendina #crossover #crossover au

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laventadorn · 27 days ago

Note

I am madly in love with the way you described Dumbledore in TNER. It's one of my favorite characters, but I know so few works where he really resembles the book version. You've done it perfectly. And I'm curious, what do you generally think of such a controversial personality?

aw, thank you! :3

dumbledore is super polarizing (or do most people hate him these days? i'm always reading pro-snape stories and Dumbledore is persona non grata in those akgjaj not sure how he shakes down in other parts of fandom).

to me, characters are either boring or interesting. within these designations, you can have different shades: "aggressively uninterested" or "just don't think about them at all," vs. "their psychology intrigues me" to "i must hereafter shape my identity around my new blorbo" (e.g. snape!)

dumbledore is my "his psychology intrigues me" type. he fascinates me. what the heck is his deal. he lets harry run around doing the most insane things with monsters and bodily harm, lets snape run around doing the most insane things to his students egos; lets the marauders do whatever the heck was going on there; hires a dude wearing voldemort as an accessory, and gilderoy lockheart -- the list is endless. but then! he's genuinely kind to house-elves. he's completely free of werewolf prejudice, and other prejudices besides (apart from the Youthful World Domination phase in which he hated muggles and stuff). he does seem to be genuinely kind and caring. he's also idolized by the narrative, talked up pretty much at every turn.

there's a kind of cognitive dissonance to the guy.

the narrative for six books: omg dumbledore is THE most amazing. the kindest, the most enlightened, the most trustworthy, the one harry trusts without reserve, the one who gives everyone strength, the only one voldemort fears, defeater of grindelwald, also he loves candy! proof he's the best.

the Secret Backstory dropped in the last book: uhm ACTUALLY

the narrative again: NO HE'S STILL THE BEST. ignore harry dying. THE BEST. ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER. SEE?

to be clear, none of this bothers or annoys me. i just don't think of it that way. what i do think is that JKR was trying to finagle something she didn't quite have the subtlety to pull off.

once we get his full backstory, we have a guy who 1) went through a world domination phase with the man he loved 2) accidentally murdered his own sister 3) realized the path he was on would lead to widespread destruction 4) isolated himself from the world because he couldn't be trusted, either with power or with love.

this is my favorite thing about dumbledore: he locks himself up in a tower because he believes, or understands, himself to be an incredible danger to life and liberty. he cannot be trusted. he proves this over and over: first with the safety of his siblings; then the safety of the larger world; and finally, tragically, the safety of harry. he doesn't even trust himself, although he continues to act as if his judgments are without fault or flaw. he tells harry that because his intellect is greater than most people's, his errors tend to be correspondingly huger -- a line that leads harry to believe dumbledore made the wrong judgement about snape, of course, but which is actually about dumbledore's own youth. but the fact that dumbledore turned down an official position of power (minster for magic) and sequestered himself in hogwarts from a young age, that's him not trusting himself, and knowing it, and removing himself from the temptation of widespread influence and public control.

his past wrong judgements become more impactful when we understand he was in love with grindelwald and probably still harbors some tangled knot of feelings. HP is a series about love -- voldemort never understood it, was conceived in violation of it; harry was protected by an act of love from lily, who died for him, and an act of love from snape, who lived for her. harry's patronus, the purest expression of joy that magic is capable of manifesting, is borne of his own love for his father. harry's enduring love for the family he never knew protects him not only from voldemort's touch but from his influence -- he declares he'll never Join the Dark Side because voldemort killed his parents. "you are protected," says dumbledore, "by your ability to love." this was not true for dumbledore.

harry's love purifies his intent and gives him courage. snape's love (again, see his vow, his patronus) turns him off a path of evil to one of self-sacrifice. dumbledore's love, by contrast, killed his sister, destroyed his relationship with his brother, allowed a villain to rise to power. i just think, damn. what must dumbledore feel when he looks at it that way?

i love the inherent destructiveness of loving something monstrous; loving something when you don't want to. there's a notion that we are what we love, or that our love is some reflection of ourselves. if we look at it like that, then dumbledore loving someone evil says a lot about him. but he was frightened by it, so he locked himself away.

he also combines what appears to be a great capacity for compassion with an equal capacity to sacrifice anything necessary in order to achieve a goal he's constructed as worthy.

this makes sense, too: in a way, he sacrificed himself all those years ago -- his plans, his future, his love, because the price was too high. dumbledore in his youth thought that he could Save the World by controlling people. then he realized that control has only ever doomed the world, but he never quite let go of saving the world. when voldemort rises, dumbledore takes a different tack of becoming a private general, or perhaps a military advisor: still largely removed from the thick of war but directing others, who are relieved and grateful to have his plans of attack. he also deeply inspires people, harry being one of the most powerful examples. harry places his absolute trust in dumbledore, believing that this person loves him (which he does) and will always protect him (which he can't) -- and dumbledore betrays this trust by openly acknowledging that, for the freedom of the world, harry needs to die.

it hurts dumbledore to realize that harry has to die in order for the world to be saved; it hurts him so badly he (as i see it) pawns off the truth-telling to snape. he can't look snape in the eye when he tells him; he can't look at anything. he shuts his eyes as if blindness will make it easier.

dumbledore could face the truth, the necessity. he doesn't say "we'll find another way," he says "harry must die." but he couldn't face harry. his desire to save the world once again places him in a position where he has to hurt someone he loves. and he does it. in a way, he keeps playing himself.

i LOVE that.

.....i wrote a lot more than i thought i would akgajgkahjh well, he's one of your favorites, so hopefully you didn't mind!

#laventadorn replies #tner tag #kinda?? i mean it's how i write him in tner #i also hope i didn't say anything too super incorrect bc it's been a while #any recent dumbledore lore...dumble-lore... i won't have incorporated cuz i don't know it HAAha!#also i still have Ramen Brain so i hope this makes some sense....somewhere.....

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madameaug · 9 months ago

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Scandal || KTH x OC

Pairing: Actor!Taehyung x !Actress! Mei Mei

Mei Mei and Taehyung are the leads for the spicy, hot, and jaw dropping spin off of NBC's Scandal. Instead of an affair in the Whitehouse, it's the love story of two political rival's children. The chemistry on screen and on the carpet is undeniable.

Red Carpet, 8:05 pm, Hollywood California

Mei Mei looked amazing. The lights were hitting his skin perfectly. Makeup is flawless, pores absent. Large fluffy lashes complimented her hazel eyes. She was serving in every sense of the word. No one could take away her shine, not even if they tried. The designer dress wrapped her body like a second skin. The dress had a deep plunge, showing off bits and pieces of her cleavage. It was the perfect balance of sexy and chic. It was the complete opposite of the character she played. Her character was preppy, conservative, and always had her shit together. Daughter of a Prime Minster, it was expected of her.

Her character wouldn't allow herself to expose so much skin, for stranger's eyes to look at. The only man who would even look at her fully naked body was her steamy fling, played by Tae.

Taehyung stood at the other end of the red carpet. His hair was slightly crimped and dangling over his eyes. His lips were straight, but his eyes smiled wide and extensive. His head turned slightly, spotting his castmate Mei Mei. A smile cracked his stoic look.

In seconds he took to stride across the carpet to get to Mei Mei was comical. His big hands found a natural rest on her hip bone. The pair hugged, Mei Mei careful not to rub her foundation on his face.

"It's so good to see you, baby." Mei Mei's manicured nails touched the bottom of his chin.

"Likewise." Taehyung

The cameras were eating up the interaction. There were already hour long compliations of 'TaeMei' on the internet. Combining from their scenes and interviews they've done together. Pop culture was doing everything in its power to, make this ship sail.

"You look beautiful." Taehyung shamelessly checked out Mei Mei. The dress rucching tightening in the back. Making her figure even more goddess-like. Mei Mei was already on the taller side. 5'8 without her typical heels. But now on the carpet she was standing roughly at 6'1. A stallion was the most appropriate way to describe her.

Taehyung loved tall women (short women too), but tall women were now digging a special place in his heart.

With arms interlocked the pair walked down to where some of the interviewers were stationed. Individually they have done hundreds of interviews. Only when doing interviews together, was it actually fun.l

What is your favorite scene you've done together?

Mei Mei immediately started laughing. She liked simple questions that showed Mei Mei the person, not but on an act and answer how her character would.

"I think the scene we did when our characters first met. Our characters got held for ransom, technically."

Mei Mei trailed off, but Tae was not in the same room as her. He was in a different reality. His eyes were just looking over the beautiful woman beside him. He couldn't help it.

Mei Mei was a gorgeous woman. He wasn't blind. One of the reason he was glad he was doing this romance drama was because he didn't have to fake attraction to hi screenpartner. It was all natural. Although he maintained a professional aspect, but if Mei Mei wanted to explore something, Tae would be down.

"I'm sorry. What was the question?" Tae lowered his eyes at the interviewer. Even a blind man could see that Tae was making her melt. Melt so much, that she started stuttering to get out the next question.

"What are some of your favorite looks this season."

"I wore a body fitted denim dress, with a long sleeve white blouse underneath. That was a memorable look for me on set. The second one-"

"Damn I remember that. You looked good, baby." He stepped behind Mei Mei, his hands wrapping around the front of her dress. Not necessarily resting on her stomach but more on her belly button. His veiny hands becoming an accessory for her dress.

"I love it when he calls me that." Mei Mei let out a girly screech.

"Thank you, baby." She returned the comment. Neither one of them packed down from the eye contact they were holding. Not giving a second thought to the cameras, still capturing every moment they shared. The interviewer long forgotten, she was too stunned that Tae give his infamous 'fuck me' eyes.

Taking the cue to move on, Mei Mei led Tae to the next interviewer, hand in hand. Oh for sure they were going to be the talk of the night.

Commenter 1: I love seeing my parents together

Commenter 2: I just know Tae's girlfriend is sliding down the wall Commenter 3: I need someone to look at me the way Tae looks at Mei Mei Commenter 4: They just need to launch the relationship at this point. It's getting ridiculous Commenter 5: Mei Mei is so pretty Commenter 6: I love seeing black women happy :)

#bts x black reader #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x oc #taehyung x fem oc #taehyung x black oc #black oc #madameaug #black fem oc #x black oc #kim taehyung x oc

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newtonsheffield · 11 months ago

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I can imagine PM Kate absolutely tearing into PMQs from the opposition when they bring up how Kate got into her staffers pants and she just lists off every scandal for every single politician who asks a question about her and Anthony. It sends her poll figures through the roof

Kate just sitting in her chair as one of the Tories smirks at her across the room,

“Don’t you think you should answer for your sexual relationship with a junior member of your staff during an affair that happened on government property, while the tax payers pay you to run the country?”

Kate stared at him for a very long second before she leaned into the microphone, “I will answer to my sexual relationship, with a man who is a consenting adult when you answer to the four women who have accused you of sexual harassment whom you’ve swept under the rug. Surely no man’s career could survive that but: There you are, wasting your constituent’s money.”

A roar went through the crowd and the speaker fought to regain control. “Madam Prime Minster-“

“No, I will not allow myself to be lectured on appropriate workplace relationships by this man! And as for whether or not this affair, your word, not mine, occurred and has continued on government property I would put this to the honorable Member of the opposition: You show me a list of where you’ve fucked your wife and I’ll show you my list.”

The entire room erupts and Kate knows she should be worried about it. She should be concerned for the fact that this is going to make international headlines. But she’s not really.

And no one’s more surprised by hers when she reads the headlines tomorrow

Show me your and I’ll show you mine: Prime Minister Sharma takes aim at the opposition sending opinion polls skyrocketing

#tis the damn season write this down au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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coochiequeens · 2 years ago

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Technology just revealed a new name to women’s history.

For nearly 1,300 years, no one knew it was there. The name of a highly educated English woman, secretly scratched on to the pages of a rare medieval manuscript in the eighth century, but impossible to read – until now.

Academics have discovered the Old English female name Eadburg was repeatedly scored into the surface of the religious text, using a method that kept it hidden from the naked eye for more than 12 centuries.

The covert writing of the woman’s name was finally revealed when researchers at the Bodleian Library in Oxford used cutting-edge technology to capture the 3D surface of the ancient manuscript, a Latin copy of the Acts of the Apostles that was made in England between AD700 and AD750.

It is the first time this technology, capable of revealing “almost invisible” markings so shallow they measure about a fifth of the width of a human hair, has been used to record annotations on the surface of a manuscript.

“There are only a limited number of surviving early medieval manuscripts which contain clear internal evidence of a woman having created, owned or used them,” said Jessica Hodgkinson, a PhD student at the University of Leicester who made the discovery while researching her thesis on women and early medieval manuscripts.

“Most of these manuscripts are from the continent – it is much rarer to find evidence of this in surviving manuscripts which were made and used in the geographical area we now call England.”

Writing Eadburg’s name on the book quietly asserted her power and high status at a time when only a few elite, highly educated women were able to write and read both Old English and Latin. “It’s a hugely significant and very powerful text – the word of God, conveyed through the apostles. And I think that might be at least part of the reason why somebody chose to write Eadburg’s name into it, so that she was close to that.”

It is not clear why the name was written so stealthily, with a drypoint stylus, rather than ink. “Maybe it was to do with the resources that person had access to. Or maybe it was to do with wanting to leave a mark that put that woman’s name in this book, without making it really obvious,” Hodgkinson said. “There could have been some reverence for the text, which meant the person who wrote her name was trying not to detract from the scripture or compete with the word of God.”

Significantly, she found Eadburg’s name passionately etched into the margins of the manuscript in five places, while abbreviated forms of the name appear a further 10 times.

This suggests it is likely to have been Eadburg herself who made the marks. “I could understand why somebody might write someone else’s name once. But I don’t know why you would write somebody else’s name so many times like that,” Hodgkinson said.

An Old English transcription, and tiny, rough drawings of figures – in one case, of a person with outstretched arms, reaching for another person who is holding up a hand to stop them – were also discovered etched on to the small book, which is barely bigger than an A5 pamphlet.

Hodgkinson hopes further study will reveal the meanings of these figures and the ancient transcription, which has so far proved impossible to translate.

She also hopes to eventually discover who Eadburg was. Certain features of the manuscript suggest the book was produced in Kent, where a woman called Eadburg was abbess of a female religious community at Minster-in-Thanet in the mid-eighth century. However, there are at least eight other known contenders for the role.

But whether or not these mysteries are ever solved, for Hodgkinson there is something very empowering and meaningful about the discovery of Eadburg’s name. “Still, to this day, there’s this human urge to leave a mark of your presence on something that is meaningful to you or is a record of where you’ve been,” she said. “We don’t know all that much about Eadburg, but now, because of this amazing technology, we’ve seen her name, we know she was there. She’s here, in this book – and it speaks across the centuries.”

#England #Eadburg #Women in history #medieval history #old english #Acts of the Apostles #Latin #Bodleian Library in Oxford

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tomionefinds · 25 days ago

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Hello lovely people :)), any Tom dom Hermione sub recommendations?? Thanks from the deepest part of my heart

Here you go, anon, with thanks to the Tomione Mud & Blood Discord (depraved folks, we love 'em) - Haus

Linen Rope by brightki

E | Complete | 79k

Hermione is an upper sixth student at the highly elite Hogwarts School, and she needs extra hours working in the school’s science labs for her pre-admission to Oxford the next year. However, she has to get the approval from the chemistry teacher, Dr. Snape, as well as the support of the man in charge of the science department - Dr. Tom Riddle. NOW COMPLETE

put your iron hand (into my velvet glove) by foolishlywandwaving

E | One Shot | 6k

“I confess, I hardly knew what to think when you suggested this at dinner,” Tom breathed over her lips, and then chuckled. Oh my god, Hermione thought in horror. He thinks I’m Astoria. He thinks I’m Astoria, come to seduce him. -- Or: Tom, Hermione, and misadventures with Polyjuice Potion.

Art Trilogy by WildKitsune

E | Complete Collection, starts with Art of Genius | 145k in total

Art of Genius- Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione is working on a team of healers to help find a cure to a new wizarding disease. An imprisoned Lord Voldemort offers the help of his considerable genius but only if Hermione consents to be his handler. Art of Charm- Even though Voldemort seems to be keeping his word to Harry and living within the laws of wizarding society, Hermione isn’t convinced her mate is as reformed as he seems. She becomes overwhelmed, knowing she can’t trust the one person she needs most in the world. Art of Magic- A new player has entered the game between Hermione and the Dark Lord. What will it mean now that their bond has been broken? And what sort of powers does the mysterious Mr. Lake wield?

The Prisoner by Nerysdax

E | Complete | 180k

Imprisoned, Lord Voldemort is considered a threat of the past. His knowledge is desired by many. Yet, his offer is for one person only: Hermione Weasley-Granger.

Happy Birthday Mr. Minster for Magic by gevauxie

E | Complete | 32k

A chance meeting, a job interview, and a breathtakingly expensive dress… Hermione catches a wealthy politician's eye and gains more than she bargained for when she is promoted to the prestigious position of private secretary for the Minister for Magic.

Common Courtesy by LadyUrsa

E | One shot | 5k

Hermione finds etiquette classes to be tedious and far below her. The remedial lessons aren’t too bad, though.

#tomione #pwp #rated ma/e #alternative universe #student/professor

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meraki-yao · 2 months ago

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Rewatching RWRB for the first time since school starts and a while since I watched it alone (I watched it with friends the last couple of times) because depression is hitting me like a bitch today

And I literally just noticed that Zahra clears her throat before she hands Alex the iPad ( I think it's an iPad? There's no logo) with the Prime Minster talking about cakegate

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #rwrb rambles

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tigris-types · 26 days ago

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So, I've seen an equal number of posts praising and critiquing the Minster High finale, and I wanted to toss my two cents in.

I think some things didn't make sense, but I did have fun watching it, so overall, it was alright.

I thinks it's fine that the shape-shifter has to do community service and detention, it was a nice gesture that Clawdeen gave away the Moonclaw, and with Wiskerene saving the kids, it makes sense she became were-ruler. No teen should be the wereruler and the Whiskerwomen had the most screen time out of the other adult candidates. These things are fine.

However, I think they're were too many werewolves as candidates. Romulous' reasoning for entering was for werewolves to be on top, but Clawdeen's mom was in the race and so his reasoning didnt make sense. He should have joined the race after her mom dropped out, and her mom should have dropped out sooner.

Whiskerene and Whiskerbeth should have been animals other than wolves, or make one a wolf and one a cat. With the twist the shape-shifter is a were-creature, they should have expanded on what animals are were-creatures and the whisker-women would have been a great opportunity to do that. Their names done even have to change! They could have been seals, walruses, cats, badgers, otters, chinchillas, or squirrels to name a few! Hell! If they were a prey species it would make sense why they were never able to become wereruler before! They were never able to outright a wolf or a cat! And it would be far more interesting it a species other than a werecat or a werewolf won the election!

No onto the shapeshifter. Why was he a whale? And why did he turn into a bear? And when he got his shifting powers, wouldn't he have gotten his own human form? Cause it seems like that's how that works for other were-species. I was hoping his humanoid form would still be like a teal whale. This part makes no sense.

Last thing, Lagoon wasn't filming a documentary, she was live streaming! Steaming would make sense for her as a sea monster, cause water pun. But also, if she wasnt live streaming, how did everyone see Whiskerene save the kids??? Her documentary shouldn't have influenced the vote because making a documentary takes time and requires editing, which Lagoona seemed to do none of! If they had said she was live streaming the election, I wouldn't have a problem with this.

So yeah, those are my thoughts on Monster High.

#monster high #monster high g3

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monarch-of-weird-girlboy-nation · 1 month ago

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Ok so like. Connie in space camp just...connie in space camp. I lime to operate under the assumption that the literal only place chill with the gems ar like, the surrounding areas, because its fun to play around with the idea of someone being shocked. Can you imagine you go into space camp, right, just an average person in space camp. And you're talking to this girl who claims to have been to space. And tells you it's full of magic stones. It's an astrology girlie or something, you think, and push them aside. They say about their... boyfriend? It's not clear, but you ship them, and he's half gem half human. She's a good storyteller, she should be in creative writing camp instead. She scoffs at half the things the counsellor says, she says she knows space isn't like that. Which is annoying, miss know it all. But she may become your space camp buddy, because she's nice overall, knows a lot about space (discrediting all of the weird alien stuff). Maybe she's just...weird? Or creative. Or raised by alien doomsday prepper people.

She also has a...sword?? Weird. Maybe her parents had it made, some parents are cool about their kids interests that way..you're weren't. You were a bit jealous of this girl. She talked about the boy you shipped her with...steven. he seemed nice. And probably fictional. Until...you and her were walking, and chatting outside. It was about your life, you're strict parents. She said she had strict parents too, and then she fought a bunch of minsters in front of her mom, and her mom got over it. Connie was a good storyteller. You laughed. Suddenly, a giant lion- wait. A GIANT LION? AND ITS PINK? JUST RUNS UP TI YOU AND CONNIE AND CONNIE RECOGNISES IT. you kinda do as well, but that had to be a lie. She ran for her sword, picked it up, and ran into a portal, but said bye before heading out.

...might wrote a fic about this.1

#steven universe #connie maheswaran #fanfic ideas #space camp

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arealphrooblem · 1 year ago

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Kidnapped by the Boss Part 4

Sorry for the wait but surgery went well and I'm back!

Part one here

I’ll take it under consideration he said. That was not a guarantee or even a promise. It was nothing. A deep paranoia settled in her bones. It chased her throughout the day and haunted her at night. No matter how still and quiet the room was, she felt watched. It made using the bathroom or taking a shower the most terrifying and nerve wracking experience of her life. She chased shadows in the room like a lunatic before she deemed it safe enough, but even then she never felt entirely alone.

And she was, on the surface. Servants delivered food, books, even a basket of yarn and crochet needles (strange that the Prime Min — the King remembered that silly detail of her life) and then disappeared. Neither the driver or the King made an appearance. It was if she was a toy stowed away in an attic and forgotten all about. It was infuriating, as was her restricted access to news, television, newspapers, anything to do with the world outside this room.

But the paranoia was worse. She didn’t sleep. She barely ate. She couldn’t read or crochet without having to get up and pace, like a lion in a zoo cage, strategizing for escape plans she didn’t dare enact for fear of her invisible guard.

By the time the driver did show up, in lieu of the servants who normally served her breakfast, Civilian’s sanity was in tatters. She must have looked insane because he set down the tray immediately and took hurried steps towards her. Panic jerked her backwards, stumbling over the coffee table leg until her back hit the wall. He followed after her, brow furrowed in a mockery of concern.

“Don’t touch me,” she snarled as he lifted his hand up.

He ignored her, pressing the back of his palm to her forehead. She slapped it away, glaring fiercely.

“What has gotten into you?” he demanded.

“As if you don’t know! As if you haven’t been skulking around here just so I can go insane from feeling watched all the time!”

“Skulking?” he barked out a laugh. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Just following you around invisible all day? Like I have nothing better to do?”

Anger ignited, burning up her panic like kerosene. She shoved him with all the force she could muster, sending him stumbling back.

“And how would I know that you’re not? How am I ever supposed to know I’m actually alone when I shower or sleep? You could attack me at any moment and I would never see it! I’ve lived with that fear for days and it's not funny!”

She was yelling by the end of it, her voice ringing in the empty room. The driver looked bewildered in the face of it and she was too angry to be satisfied with it. Her throat tightened with tears of fury and she desperately bit the back. She refused to cry in front of him.

For a long moment the driver studied her, his face carefully neutral and impassive, as she struggled to get her breathing back in check. Then he rose his hands up, palms out, in surrender.

“I have not been here since you last saw me,” he said slowly. “You have been alone this entire time.”

“You expect me to take you at your word that that’s true?” she asked. Even still, the tension in her shoulders relaxed.

“No. It would be stupid to trust me. But my king — for whatever reason — is very fond of you. He entrusts your protection to me and he didn’t do it so I could psychologically torment you. If you can’t trust my word, then trust his.”

She snorted. “He’s so fond of me that he locks me away in this room like a doll and never speaks to me.”

“We’ve been a little busy,” the driver snapped. “Plans that have been in place for years are finally moving forward. You were not supposed to be here.”

A pit started forming in her stomach. “What plans?”

“An excellent question. One you can ask the king. Today.”

She stared at him. “Today? Today? When?”

“Now. That’s why I’m here — to escort you.” He said this last part with a twist of bitterness, as if such a task lay beneath his skill set. Which it probably did.

“I can’t go now.” New panic flared up. “I’m not ready!”

He laughed again. “Why not — are you busy? Come on.”

She looked down at her rumpled shirt and leggings. The servants had brought her soft, stretchy clothes that didn’t need exact sizing. “But I look —“

“—Like shit?” he finished. “Yeah. That’s what you get when you don’t sleep or eat. He has breakfast waiting and you can take a nap after.”

“If he’s the king, don’t I need to look presentable?”

“If you were anybody else. With you he doesn’t care. What he does care about is punctuality. So let’s go.”

With a firm hand on the small of her back, the driver guided her out firmly from the bedroom. Civilian smoothed her shirt out as best she could and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. While she had seen the King in robe and pajamas many times, he had never seen her in anything less than perfect professionalism.

The halls of the palace were old and ornate, with lush carpet and intricate crown molding and silk wallpaper. It shared few similarities with the sleek modern buildings of her parliament. Save for her clothes, Civilian felt like she’d stepped inside a fairy tale.

The driver led her through a confusing route of sharp turns and side doors and little staircases, keeping the layout of the castle a complete maze despite her trying desperately to remember her bearings. Finally they passed through a door that led her out into a walled garden.

Flowers in red, gold, and purple bloomed everywhere in immaculately manicured beds. Underneath a huge tree, a table was set up with three chairs and a generous breakfast spread. The King sat, spreading jam on a scone. To her relief he was dressed in soft pants and a sleep shirt. His hair looked slightly rumpled on one side and her heart squeezed at the painful familiarity of it all.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, as if she had just stepped into his hotel room to badger him into getting dressed. Like she had done so many times.

Her feet dug into the ground, out of instinct, afraid of this mockery of their past relationship. The driver spread his hand over the middle of her back, thumb digging in the muscle as a warning. She walked to an empty chair and sat down, inwardly fuming.

The King’s happy grin faded as he took a closer look at her. Lines furrowed on his forehead and his eyes flickered over to the driver, his gaze suddenly cold and terrifying.

“It’s been handled,” the driver murmured, looking impressively stoic underneath that gaze.

When the King turned back towards her, his expression smoothed out into the warmth she was accustomed to. It hurt to know that it wasn’t real, that he thought he could fool her by wearing the same mask he did as prime minister. She channeled the driver’s apathy in her own gaze.

“Are you hungry? I have all your favorites,” the King said, gesturing to the table.

Her stomach growled, her hunger suddenly ravenous. But she clenched her fists in her lap and resisted.

“What do you want?” she asked instead.

“For you to eat. There’s peach marmalade, soft boiled eggs, avocado, sourdough. Scones.”

He took a bite out of his rather pointedly. She crossed her arms and glared just as pointedly. Hiding under her panic and fear and exhaustion was the steel backbone that made her hustle the Prime Minister to his meetings and events when he got distracted by every phone and television in his vicinity.

“I’m not going to be fooled with this fake version of yourself just because it's familiar. I’m not playing games, sir.”

He said nothing, turning his attention to spreading avocado on a slice of sourdough toast. Then he put it on a plate and held it up to her across the table. The gentle kindness from his eyes slid away, replaced with a stubborn, firm gaze.

“I’m not playing games either, Civilian. You’re not well and you’re going to fall ill so you are going to eat this before we discuss your future. Is that clear?”

Never had Civilian seen him so assertive. The Prime Minister phrased commands as requests and backed them up with a smile and doe eyes that few found easy to deny. Now those dark eyes looked at her with the command of a predator.

She dared a glance to the driver, who flickered his eyes to the plate as if to say, I’d eat if I were you.

Civilian snatched the plate from the King and took one muleish bite. It was delicious. Of course it was. As basic as it made her sound, she loved simple salted avocado on toast. She didn’t want to eat because she thought it would be horrible. But the list of things she had control over grew shorter and shorter each day.

Like the clouds breaking on a dark day, the warmth came back to the King’s eyes. “Good girl. You’ll need your strength so keep eating. Meanwhile, I feel like I should start this with an apology.”

Civilian almost choked on her toast.

“I had no intention of leaving you in that room for four days. I can see the toll it has taken on you.” Once again, his gaze flickered to the driver, as if laying the blame at his feet. “You were a . . .surprise in our plans. And once we had put them into motion we couldn’t stop until certain things were done. I put you someplace safe and out of the way. I should have checked up on you sooner.”

“I’m fine,” she bit out. “I don’t need you to check up on me. I need you to take me home.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “As usual, your definition and my definition of fine vastly differs. But getting you home . . . that can certainly be arranged. However, I need you to make an informed decision and you have missed some crucial developments during your detainment.”

Her heart rose and crashed. Hope hung on a terrifyingly delicate thread.

"What crucial developments," she asked, a pit forming in her stomach.

The King leaned back in his chair, his gaze narrowed and business-like.

"First, we must establish that, due to your stubborn recklessness, your absence is tied to mine. In the eyes of your country, our ambitions, decisions, and loyalties are tied together."

Your country. As if he hadn't helped to run it for the last five years. As if he had no connection or loyalty to a place he had defended and cared for. It chilled her.

"What does that matter?" she asked. "We were always viewed like that. I worked for you."

Worked. Past tense. She realizes that technically she's out of a job now. Does this situation even qualify for unemployment?

"Yes, that's true. And that relationship will be to your detriment when I invade your country."

The words didn't make sense at first, almost as if her brain refused to process it. And then when the meaning became undeniable, it felt like he had sucked the air from the courtyard. The King continued on, either oblivious to her shock or ignoring it.

"I imagine they will pull you in for questioning when you first return and then arrest you when I invade. You can protest your innocence as much as you like, but I doubt they'd believe you. You ran straight to me during the attack at the summit, after all. They will think you a treasonous spy and they will imprison you indefinitely if you're lucky and execute you if you're not. After all, your absence thus far looks terribly guilty."

The sounds of the garden faded as a dull roar thundered in her ears. All the pieces started convalescing together and it made her feel faint.

"You did this on purpose," she said, head swimming. "You kept me here long enough to make me look like a traitor so I can't go back."

"Of course you can go back, Civilian. I'm not going to force you to stay here."

"Would you let me leave and tell everyone your plans?"

He smirked. "And what are my plans? What details could you give away? You know nothing and you have no proof."

The truth of that hit her like a kick to the chest. He made sure to imprison her in every way that counts. Suddenly her throat felt tight and breath came in light and restricted. The King cocked his head to the side, brow furrowed. His gaze flickered to the driver.

"Civilian looks ill. Perhaps you should take her back to her quarters."

He sounded muffled and far away. The driver guided her out of the chair and she let him, feeling dazed and dizzy. The walk back to her quarters passed in a hazy blur. She was grateful for the firm and guiding hand on her back through the maze of corridors. Just as she was grateful for the shut of the door behind her when she finally made it.

Civilian collapsed to her knees on the lush carpet and sobbed, uncaring of any invisible watchers.

Part five here

Taglist: @rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars

#hero x villain #heroine x villain #my writing #enemies to lovers #kidnapped by the boss #villain x civilian #fantasci tumblr #writeblr

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docholligay · 1 year ago

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The Things We Find in the Minster

Big churches, by and large, do very little for me. Don’t mistake me, the architecture is astouding given the time so many of them were built in, and the sheer aesthetic brilliance of Catholic (and “Catholic-lite,” though I’m sure somewhere a C of E congregant just died at the utterance) buildings and artifacts is breahtaking, but given my time freely, it is rare that I will opt to gawk at a large building with colored panes in the windows*.

But this, in many respects, not my vacation, but my mother’s, and the York Minster was one of the small handful of things she directly indicated as a thing she’d like to do, and so, here we were, looking at a very old and very large building with many very fancy details. This sounds very dismissive, but it isn’t, in the same way that I would expect any given person to describe a tasting menu at a Michelin star just, “eating two bites of a lot of things but it takes three hours at least”. It’s not wrong, when you arent’ the audience.

Anyhow, I have long been a believer that mostly only boring people are bored, or find things totally irreedeemable. There are a dozen games you can play with yourself, to force yourself to engage with a place on your own level, to make it have meaning to you. I determined myself to do that, to find the human at the core of it all, which is generally how things tend to appeal to me.

Luckily, I actually didn’t have to work hard at all. To say I worked at it would be giving me more credit than I am due.

Because the minster had Christmas trees, sponsored or decorated or both by local businesses and schools, each decorated a different way. Little paper plate doves by children, paper chains by travel agencies, bright brass ornaments from a local metalworks. And then my eyes fell on a simple tree with a few baubles and lights, but mostly a huge number of tags over the entire thing, with writing on them.

It was from a funeral home.

My mother loves me very much, and from time to time I also annoy her, in the way that love often allows another person to do, and I think I was tap-dancing on her last nerve as I sat there for twenty minutes, reading these tags that people had written to their loved ones now gone.

What do we confess to the dead? What do we wish for them? What can you to someone that goes on a gift tag, that might be read by others, but, by my measure, will mostly be passed by? What would you say about the person you loved to the strange American picking through the boughs?

“I hope they have whisky up there, Dad.” “We went to the Christmas fair without you, and it felt wrong.” “I’m sorry I didn’t come home last Christmas.” “I don’t know if I’ll ever love Christmas again.” “I put up the lights this year, because you would want me to.” “I promise to drink two mulled wines this year.” “I’ll lay a place at the table.”

“I miss you.”

I filed all these little things away, these sentences or two that hold a lifetime of love and pain and expectation. These moments that show what a teardrop migt look like in the glow of a Christmas light.

What would I say, if I could say something to any of them? Would I? Could I be so brave as to leave that bare sentence out for anyone in the world to read? I knew what I would say, but not if I had the strength to say it.

I had a moment where I felt my heart in my throat, and pulled back to make a very intense study of a stained glass Jesus in the small chapel behind me. So I suppose the answer is no--I am, as ever, an emotional coward.

I didn’t want to leave that little tree. I wanted to read it again, I wanted these people to know someone heard them, and felt that with them, if only for a moment. That they weren’t alone in this, that these things we confess to the dead are the most human thing of all, that death never feels settled no matter how long they’re gone, but also that it stops feeling quite so wrong to do something, or not do something, sometimes both at the same time. Summer comes. It stops being so dark.

All the monuments to queens and saints could not move me as much as the sad little tree that barely met my height.

The benefit of remembering things in the strange and scattered way I do, with moments of intense clarity, is that I rarely worry about forgetting the feeling of a place. I will remember this tree, and the words they said. I don’t know if there is a way the people these messages were meant for can ever hear them, but I know they did not go out into the world for nothing. I, and the writers, were together for a moment. They sat across from me and told me an open secret.

But Mom wanted to see the Roman crypt. We live our lives on the move. We touch each other through these words like the tip of a finger to a flame, drawn back quickly but the feeling remains. I clipped down the stairs to see some old rocks, because sometimes you put up the Christmas lights out of love, even if you don’t like them.

*This is, actually, one of the reasons I truly love tour guides, is, if you find someone passionate about the time or space, they can make things you might not care about fantastically interesting to you. I was more interested in the Minster itself in the mere moments I overheard the guide speaking to schoolchildren than I was at any of the other spectacle.

PS I bet this is not the kind of travel writing fucking anyone signs up for and I suppose for that I apologize. This is, in truth, the way I see the world, and it doesn’t do much to inform you about a place. York is a very neat city, with extreme “Ye Olde Angland” vibes, and the people in York are so kind that if you get lost, all you probably need to do is identify a Yorkshire accent and they will probably fucking TAKE you to your hotel. We had like three people ask what our bus stop was, or where we were going, because they were worried we wouldn’t know where to get off. The Minster is a very impressively large church and they are doing some fantastic restoration there. My favorite place in York was the Sam Smith’s pub where we got to having a whole conversation with this gal and her friends, one of whom, she warned us, was, “a total chav but harmless” and she actually knew where Montana was, and as we were all chatting, told one of her friends, “oh you could fit the whole country in it” so I have no idea why she knows that but I was impressed, first time I’ve encountered someone who both knew where it was and the fucking SCALE of it. She was great, her friends were fun, I was annoyed and embarrassed by the older American couple in our “pub pod” for lack of a better word that didn’t seem to want to engage with their warmth and friendliness. (But it gave us all a good topic of conversation about where in America is like North England and where is like South after they left ahaha)

#Doc Does Christmas

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