#You’ve seen how I get when I’m asked bought a and opinions of my beloved twst sons lmao……

[cerealmonster15]

btw sometimes I post blorbo prompt things and ppl send me stuff like “idk anything about dndads/twst but do x character from there” and I mean those ARE my two current main interests so I def never complain about that lol. HOWEVER. i still like other things shhfjfcjngbgbgb other stuff is still legal unless I guess I’m specifying?? I like other things!!!!! If we have a common interest elsewhere you can still choose those lol!!!

[pascalpanic]

Burning The Midnight Oil (Javier Peña x gn!Reader)

Summary: Javier has been burning the candle at both ends. He just needs some rest. Luckily, you’ve got your husband covered.

W/C: 3.4K

Warnings: oh boy um. language, non sexual nudity, brief sexual jokes/innuendo, lots of talk of sleep deprivation bc that’s a plot point here, brief mentions of alcohol and guns (maybe once each), mostly talk of food/eating, eating meat/pork (Javier does, not reader) otherwise I’d say it’s fluffy for the most part

A/N: ☄️ anon, god bless your soul for this idea!! I really love it so I banged it out in one night and here we are!!

You haven’t seen your husband in days. You know he’s exhausted, only ever showing up at home when you’re off at work. It’s a terrible situation, the only contact you’ve had with him being at odd hours over the phone.

The DEA has been all hands on deck this week, requiring their men to be there at all times unless they’re at home and sleeping; even then, they only get about six hours off at a time, many of them too wired to sleep. Javier only gets to come home every other day, usually during the middle of the day. He’s been staying up for a dangerous amount of time, in your opinion, leaving you just about ready to find the heads of the cartel and beat their asses yourself.

During the work week, you can’t complain. You have no right to. You knew when you and Javier had eloped and married that the man’s job was a baggage you’d be forced to carry as a couple. You normally didn’t mind, but when it goes into the weekend, that’s when you get mad. Not just that you don’t get your husband at home with you, but that he doesn’t get to be home. He deserves it. Javier hardly relaxes during the weekends, and essentially does not relax on weeknights until he’s fallen asleep with his head on your chest.

Saturday found you running errands, expecting Javier home by midday at the very latest. Returning home with a pep in your step and finding no Javier there, your mood and smile fell instantly. It’s Saturday; your husband should be home. They should be letting them go home, you thought angrily as you took your anger out by chopping the vegetables to go into your dinner. Surely Javier will be home by dinnertime.

Nothing. 6 P.M., 7 P.M., no Javier, just a dinner growing cold and your heart sinking. You knew Javier had got his break yesterday, and had been in the apartment while you worked, but a slightly rumpled bed was the only evidence he was even there.

At 8, you walk to the phone and dial the DEA office, specifically Javier’s extension.

Your husband picks up and his voice wrecks your heart. “Peña,” he mumbles, his voice crackly. It sounds like his morning grumble after a long night of sleep next to you.

“Javi,” you coo, heart breaking. “Baby, when are you coming home?”

Javier perches on the edge of his desk, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. “Fuck, cariño, I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing his face. “I just woke up, I got an hour nap in the break room office. We have to keep going. We’re so close, I can tell.”

You understand his desperation, but you know exactly what he looks like now, a stubble growing thanks to his time away from home, his eyes bloodshot and drooping. His hair is probably messy and his shirt is probably all wrinkly; you’re absolutely certain he’s holding a mug of the sludgy black coffee the office brews. He’s most definitely the picture of exhaustion, and even though you can’t see him, you know your husband. He is a wreck. “I can let Saturday slide, but you’re coming home tomorrow, I don’t care how long. I need to see you and you need to be taken care of.” “I’m doing just fine,” Javier shakes his head and you can hear a flick of a lighter as he’s most likely lighting a cigarette.

“You’re not, and don’t try to pull that card with me. I know you. You’re a disaster; I can tell from your voice. You haven’t eaten and you haven’t slept and you can’t deny it. I want you home as soon as you can tomorrow, you got it? Don’t you even fucking dare try it, Javier Fernando Peña.”

The full name: ouch. He sighs and exhales the cigarette smoke, then takes a sip of his coffee before answering you. “God, I fucking love you,” he chuckles softly. “Okay.”

Another sign of Javier’s exhaustion: how easily he gives in. Javier is a stubborn man, but over your years together he’s learned that you’re just as hard to budge. When both of you are set, neither of you can be moved. Your sarcasm and wit and willpower was what drew him to you in the first place; Javier could never have a compliant, submitting partner. He’d be a mess. He needs you to ground him, he knew and still knows it. It’s why you’re married now.

“I love you too, handsome. Call me before you come home, okay baby? I want to be awake for you,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your voice is much warmer, less jagged and rough.

It’s the way you always get Javi, the thing that makes him melt the most: when you’re snapping one second and gentle the next. God, he fucking loves you. You understand him, you don’t question him when he comes home and doesn’t speak. You read him and then you hold him, and all of his fears dissipate with his calming breath. “Okay. I love you,” he repeats again, more earnest and purposeful. He wants you to know it; he worries you haven’t felt it in the past week. It’s also another sign of his exhaustion.

“I love you too, Javi,” you remind him as you chuckle and stand. “Don’t fall asleep on the job. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Javier groans and cracks his neck after hanging up, sliding the typewriter back to the beginning. Just a little longer, he tells himself, then he gets to come home to you.

-

The phone rings around 5 in the morning, waking you from a restless slumber. The sun is just starting to rise, making the sky lighter and colorful from its previous midnight blue. Knowing Javier would be calling, it was impossible for you to sleep fully, leaving you in a dozing state more similar to a daydream than to any form of REM.

“Hello?” You answer with a groggy voice, hoping it’s Javier. Who else could it be, at this hour on a Sunday morning?

“Hey, dulzura,” Javier sighs into the phone. “I’m packing up my shit now. We didn’t get Escobar, but we got one of his big guys late last night. They’re bringing in some Search Bloc guys and giving us tomorrow off.”

You nearly cry in relief at his words, making a noise between a sigh and a squeal,  heavy and happy. Javier laughs softly at your noise of relief, allowing himself to smile. His vision is hazy from the lack of sleep, but he’ll be cognizant enough after this last cup of coffee kicks in. “Get your ass home, Javi,” you tell him with a voice just as sleepy as his own. “You got an ETA for me?”

There’s a moment of silence as he looks at his watch. “5:45.”

Your eyes haven’t even opened yet, and you finally let them as you look at the clock. That’s soon, really soon, and it makes your heart speed up a little as your body forces you awake. “Great. I’ll see you then. Drive safe. If you’re too tired-”

“Steve will not be driving,” he cuts you off with a grumble. It makes you giggle a little, his adamance that Steve could never possibly do something better than him, more competently.

“Just reminding you. I’ll see you,” you tell him and hang up before he can make another sarcastic comment.

He’s glad you hang up so fast. He doesn’t have the brain power for a classic witty retort.

-

Javier goes to unlock the apartment door about half an hour later, but finds that his keys aren’t necessary: you’ve left the door unlocked for him.

He’d be ashamed to admit it to anyone but you, but it really does happen: Javier’s eyes water as he walks inside to the smell of cooking, the stream of soft light through the kitchen window, the sound of soft Sunday morning music drifting from the radio.

You’re at the oven, cooking, and turn when you hear a noise, grinning to see Javier. “Hey, handsome,” you squeal and rush over, wrapping your arms around him.

Javier buries his face in your hair, throwing his arms back around you. You smell fresh and clean, so soft in the fluffy robe he bought you for your birthday a few months ago now. You’re surprised to feel warm water drip from his eyes to your neck, and you pull away with a frown, cupping his face. “Are you okay, love?” You ask, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He nods. “So tired,” he admits and swallows hard. “So glad I’m home. So lucky I have you.”

You have a feeling he doesn’t have the energy to kiss you. Instead, you press your forehead to his and squeeze him tight in your arms. “Okay. I cooked breakfast. You need it. Why don’t you go take a shower?” You ask, breaking away and rubbing his arms.

He shakes his head. “My arms feel like lead. I don’t know if I can even wash my hair,” he admits, his voice a low rumble from his chest. “Just let me sleep, baby.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” you offer, already unbuttoning his shirt and working it off of him purely for comfort. You know your way around your husband’s body by now. You could unbutton his shirts blind; in fact, you have. “Come on, cariño,” you murmur and pull him along to the bathroom by the side of an unbuttoned shirt.

Once in the bathroom, Javier blinks and squints at the bright vanity lights, overwhelmed. You turn on the shower, the bathroom filling with warmth as the water heats and steam fills the air. Even in his tired state, Javier loves to undress you. He tugs the belt from your fuzzy robe, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it on the counter. You then strip off your respective clothes, and you’re the first to step into the stream of the warm water.

Javi doesn’t have to say anything; you can tell his thoughts from your gaze. His eyes rake your body, taking in the sight of his most beloved person on the planet in all of your naked glory. He climbs in after you, and you grab a bar of soap and get to scrubbing, covering all of Javier’s body with the cucumber-scented suds. He leans his head back against the shower wall, loving your warm hands and the hot water. If he wasn’t standing, if his back wasn’t aching so hard, he’d fall asleep here and now. He’s never been more blissful.

You rinse his body then work his shampoo into his thick hair, your fingers scratching his scalp and massaging his head. “You’re the fucking best,” Javi mumbles sleepily. You just chuckle and work the soap into his hair, stripping it of the grime and cigarette smoke of the office, until he’s wiped clean, ready to start anew.

Later, you wash yourself and let Javier enjoy the hot stream of the water. He’s so zoned out you can’t even tell if he’s awake. You have to actually check. “Javi, baby?”

“Hm?” He mumbles

“Did you fall asleep on me?” You chuckle as you turn off the shower, which makes Javier frown at the loss of warmth.

“‘Course not,” he grumbles, taking the fluffy towel from you and wiping his face.

After the two of you have dressed in fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of your bed and wait for Javier to finish. He pulls a worn t-shirt over his head, then comes and sits next to you, kissing the side of your head. “You’re so good to me,” he mumbles into your temple.

He goes to flop back but you put an arm around him, catching him. “Excuse me, Agent. I made breakfast,” you chuckle and sneak a kiss from his lips, chuckling at the way his mustache is still a little damp. “When was the last time you ate?”

Javier stares off as he considers it. It takes a while for him to respond. You nod at that. “Exactly. Come on, I made breakfast just the way you like it.”

The food is still somewhat warm when you find your way to the kitchen. Javier loves the local cuisine, always has, but something about an American breakfast makes him weak at the knees. He sits at the kitchen counter and sighs as you hand him a plate of buttered toast. “There’s your appetizer,” you chuckle and head back to the stove. Half-cooked bacon, which you turned off when he came in, sits in a pan, and you turn it back on to finish. You crack a couple of eggs into another pan, making sure they sit just right so they’re the way Javi likes them: fried. You sprinkle them with salt and pepper, humming to the radio as you cook.

The sizzling bacon makes Javier’s stomach grumble. The toast isn’t even that warm anymore, but the carby goodness fills Javi’s mouth and suddenly he’s never felt so ravenous. The two pieces of buttered toast are devoured in a heartbeat.

Bringing him a mug, you pour some coffee and his favorite creamer in. “You’d better tip me later,” you tease him with a wink as you return to the stove, flipping the bacon and putting some onto a plate.

“I will tip you anything you want, I swear,” he murmurs before sipping at the ceramic mug, the warm coffee going down like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, warming him from the inside out. The A/C blasts in the apartment, making his dripping hair feel even colder.

In yet another pan, you start pouring the premade pancake mix you’d prepared before he got home. “All of this and the sun is barely up,” He muses, wandering to the other side of the counter and stealing a strip of bacon.

“Quit,” you whine and smack his hand, making the bacon fall back onto the plate. “Your order isn’t ready yet, sir. Stop harassing the cook.” When his arms wrap around you, your defenses fall. “Go sit down,” you say weakly as he kisses your neck.

At least he obeys. Javier sits in his chair and watches you intently, downing his coffee in a short amount of time.

Finally, the feast all comes together, and you present it to Javier on a large plate: bacon, fried eggs, fruit (which you know he won’t eat, but it’s worth a shot), and heart-shaped pancakes. “I wanted to make a pistol, but I’m not super artistic,” you chuckle as you refer to the fluffy cakes on the plate.

Javier shakes his head but smiles. “Thank you, dulzura,” he manages out before he digs in, devouring the plate at a breakneck speed. You’re content to watch, standing across from him. You go to refill his coffee and come back to find the pancakes completely gone.

It doesn’t take much time at all before the plate is wiped clean, the entire thing in Javier’s stomach. Food has never been the biggest concern for him; he skips meals often for work, and you suspect he hasn’t done much more than snack here or there over the past week. His eyes droop even further now that he has a full stomach, and it warms your heart. You’ve got your husband cleaned and fed; now all you need is one last step before you have your beloved Javi back.

“Alright, handsome,” you smile as you drape your arms across his shoulders. “Nap time.”

He can’t deny that. He stands, letting your arms fall off his shoulders. He pulls you around to his front and wraps his arms around you; you know what comes next in this routine. Your feet slide on top of his and Javier walks the two of you to the bedroom, you backwards and being led by him. Javier is not an overly affectionate man: kisses and sex, primarily, hugs if one of you really needs it. This is his one little act he insists on, since you don’t let him carry you.

As you waddle along, you kiss along Javier’s jaw, giving him all of the affection he missed out on in the past week. When you finally enter your bedroom, you stop as you feel the backs of your calves against the bed. You know this routine all too well. It’s usually reserved for when Javier can’t get his hands off of you, when you desperately need him on top of you, surrounding you, kissing your neck. “Wait,” you murmur and step off of his feet, going to pull back the covers.

You return to the end of the bed, standing on top of his feet again. “There,” you say with a grin, and Javi has no choice but to grin back then kiss you. “Okay, continue.”

Then your routine resumes: you fall backwards onto the bed and Javier falls on top of you. You both grunt with the impact but you smile, wrapping one arm around Javi while the other grabs the sheets and blankets and pulls them over the both of you.

Javi’s cheek is nestled against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes already shut. “Real cute. Get off of me now,” you tease and nudge his side.

His body beneath yours is all he’s needed, all he’s dreamt about while half-consciously dreaming on the apartment couch. He can feel your chest rise and fall, his head going with it. “No,” he simply mutters, his face squished against the skin encasing your beating heart. “M’comftrble.”

You can’t deny him that, you chuckle, your hands reaching down to entangle your fingers in his dark brown hair, nearly black from the dampness it holds. “Fine,” you sigh, whispering the word to him. “I love you so much, Javi. Missed you. Missed my man.”

“Missed you too, dulzura,” Javi mumbles back, but it’s clear he’s almost already out.

“How long were you up, minus that nap, Javi?” You ask.

He thinks on it for a minute, and you think he might’ve fallen asleep until he responds. “36.”

“Hours?” you exclaim quietly, massaging his scalp. “Baby.”

“I know. Had’ta.”

“Well, you can sleep as long as you need to now, love,” you murmur and kiss his forehead. He makes a soft noise of disapproval. “Just a nap. Wake me in like an hour.”

“Okay,” you lie, knowing you’ll let him sleep as long as his body needs it. “Rest now, baby.”

Javier nods and you exhale deeply, holding his head to your chest. He’s back now, your husband, and you know he’s safe, know he’s healthy and well taken-care of: you did it yourself. His breathing slows. You can feel it against your chest, the way the steady rise and fall becomes slower and slower and you know you’ve won when you hear a soft snore, his parted lips smashed against your chest.

You stay like that for a while, Javier lying on top of you and resting. It’s a comfort to have him pressed against you, to feel your husband’s body and know that he’s here. It’s even better to know he’s resting well, deeply, from the way he slumbers against your body. You intermittently kiss his head, continuing to rub his head in hopes it’ll loosen the tension he’ll surely have when he wakes.

About an hour passes, and you find yourself drowsier and drowsier as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. Scooting out from beneath Javier, you replace your chest with a pillow to support his face. Rolling him slightly to the side, you cuddle in behind him and spoon him, your arms around him.

The quiet Sunday morning is all too perfect. You drift off too, then wake up an hour or two later and proceed about your household chores. You burn some pretty candles, clean, listen to the radio.

Javier doesn’t wake until 10 P.M. that night, 15 hours after he fell asleep.

Some nap.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 40 | End

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.9k

; Warnings: Slight anxiety attack, mentions of panic, slight body issues

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: So...this is it 😢 Flower is officially over! I started writing this on November 15th, 2019. Almost a year later, here we are with 40 chapters, 3 drabbles and 180k of words. Can you believe I actually finished it? I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and the journey of the MC finding herself and falling in love with Hoseok. It’s been so fun to write and it’s sad to let it go. If you’ve enjoyed reading this, please let me know with a comment or an ask! I’ve loved reading how much you’ve all felt seen or embraced by the MC with her struggles and I’d love to hear your thoughts on not only this chapter but the whole fic! Feedback is what keeps authors going and I came very close to leaving writing once Flower was finished but I’m still going to carry on. I’m not sure if this chapter is good or not, but I hope you enjoy it anyway and think it a fitting end to the story!

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Okay...okay. Let’s do this...you can do this. It’s easy. Just...walk down the aisle. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, Hoseok could not be there or I could have a heart attack and drop down dead. That would suck. But it would resolve a lot of my issues, I wouldn’t have to worry about everyone watching me. On the other hand...I’m going to marry the love of my life. As long as he turns up” The soft sounds of your muttering are probably barely heard over the soft playing music through the speakers in the room, YouTube playing mindlessly to itself.

It was a good job, as it meant that no one else in the room could hear your panicked thoughts that were being verbalised. Hoseok and you had decided to get married at an exquisite mansion hotel with the ceremony itself being in the elegant gardens outside. There was a full-sized maze alongside a stunning fountain, the centrepiece being a marble depiction of Aphrodite rising from the shallows.

You’d taken a walk around the perfectly groomed gardens the night before, taking in all the decorations that you’d painstakingly picked out over the months that had been artfully arranged by the staff. The flowers in the gardens were beautiful, a smorgasbord of pinks, oranges, violets, reds and yellows that brought the whole area to life. Alongside it looking visually perfect, it also smelled amazing as well with the soft scent of different flowers mixing.

At night, the tiny fairy lights that had been strung up around the building front and the metal trellises that were organised in the garden gave off a soft, golden glow. It made the whole place look ethereal and you were excited for everyone else to get to see it during the reception tonight.

The actual wedding ceremony was scheduled to start at two in the afternoon, with only friends and family invited for that. It would be outside as well, with Hoseok and you standing at the end of a make-shift aisle on the lawn section of the hotel’s garden. Temporary chairs had been arranged on both sides for your guests, dark wood with ivory silk draped over everyone. At the end of the aisle, each chair had a silk bow in ivory and deep purple alongside a bouquet of specially arranged flowers. 

It all looked perfect and you’d marvelled at it yesterday, amazed that they’d managed to bring your vision to life. Now all you had to do was walk down it and get married, which was where you were a little panicked.

The room that had been assigned to the bridal party was on the lower floor of the hotel, reducing the risk of you potentially killing yourself by tripping over your dress while walking down the stairs. It was technically two hotel rooms connected through a shared bathroom, which you found bizarre.

Your mom and Hoseok’s mom had taken the other room for their use to get changed, the hairdresser and makeup artist they’d hired working there to make them look their best for the ceremony. Even now, you could hear them chattering and laughing away with each other. Even through your anxiety, you can’t help but smile as you hear them get on so well.

Any fears you’d had about them not liking each other had quickly disappeared. Instead, they’d become good friends and liked to meet up now and then to have a talk over coffee or something. It pleased you to see your mom getting to have more friends.

Eden and Amelia had also chosen to get ready in that room, not wanting to crowd the one you were in too much. It was already full of dresses and a ridiculous amount of makeup and hair product with only four of you so you couldn’t even imagine the chaos with five of you.

In your room was Soyeon, Chungha and Dahyun alongside you. Dahyun was currently three months pregnant, having successfully been inseminated with Jungkook’s sperm. He’d agreed to their request and after a few months of getting prepared for the attempts, Dahyun had undergone the procedure. What it had been exactly, you didn’t know because you hadn’t felt it was your business to pry into something like that.

It was a privilege to even know they were trying before anyone else. Their announcement had come at your bachelorette party when Dahyun had refused alcohol, immediately leading Soyeon and you to be suspicious. You’d never seen Chungha’s beloved ever turn down a drink so it had been a clear sign of something at least.

Needless to say, your party had happily become a celebration of their impending baby. Thankfully, you weren’t one of those people who got overly annoyed at others announcing things at events. Or at least, not big events. Your bachelorette party had been a perfect time to find out, whereas you might not have been so amenable if they’d told everyone today instead.

That was normal though, right? Today was your day. Yours and Hoseok’s. People who felt the need to co-opt special days like that were a special type of self-absorbed in your opinion.

Given it was so early into her pregnancy, Dahyun isn't showing that much. Which meant her bridesmaid dress hadn’t needed to be altered too much. None of them has gotten into their dresses just yet, instead currently in the process of getting their face and hair done. Chungha’s hair has already been done, elegantly styled into a beautiful updo with a few tendrils curled around her face.

The makeup for the girls was a smokey eye with subtle blush and contour, alongside a neutral lip. It wasn’t anything flashy, but you’d loved the concept of it all. Particularly with the small and delicate crystals that dotted along their waterline, adding a little sparkle to match the tiny crystals on their deep violet dresses.

As a present to each of them, you’d bought them a gift set from Pandora. In each one was a pair of dainty stud earrings with a heart design alongside a matching heart-shaped pendant necklace. All the hearts were encrusted with brilliant-cut stones, making the perfect gift that could be used again in the future for casual use.

They’d all been in awe of it and surprised at being given presents as well. You hadn’t even known it was a thing until you’d looked up wedding preparation online, discovering that you should also buy something for Hoseok. Which had led to you buying him the fancy watch he’d been drooling over for months now. It had been eye-watering expensive, but it had been worth it for his excited text this morning.

Along with the watch, you’d also written him a letter. It was meant to be light-hearted and fun, but you’d ended up writing way too much as you’d poured out your love to him alongside everything you felt for him. To your eternal embarrassment, you’d ended up crying while writing it as you’d told him everything you’d never been able to vocalise, including writing possibly a million times that you love him.

He’d been instructed to not read that until just before the ceremony.

His present to you was a gaming table, which might not seem to be very sentimental to anyone else but you’d been ecstatic over it. For years now, you’d been saying that you wanted to buy a proper table that was designed for board games and that could then be used as a normal table when converted. They were super expensive so you’d resigned yourself to never getting one, but he’d printed out the receipt of what he’d ordered and put it into an envelope for you to open tonight.

Neither of you had ever been a traditional couple, and that certainly wasn’t about to change with marriage.

“Hey, you okay?” Amelia asks, interrupting your intense thought process as she sits down next to you. As usual, her aura is warm and reassuring as she reaches over to gently squeeze at your hand. You don’t spend a huge amount of time around her, but you knew both Eden and her enough to want them in your bridal party.

“Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just…” Trailing off, you struggle to find the right words and instead gesture towards the air. It makes no sense but you can’t quite figure out what you’re trying to say. Mainly because you can’t figure out what your mind is thinking.

“It’s okay to be worried, don’t feel like you shouldn’t be. If you’re anxious or nervous then that’s okay as well. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should be feeling, just feel what you are. Trust Hoseok, trust yourself and all your family and friends. We’re all here for you and we want you to have the best day possible. Tell us if anything is wrong, okay? I have no doubt that Chungha and Soyeon would strong-arm everyone into whatever was necessary to make you feel comfortable.” She says, smirking as she nods over to the two women who are chattering away in their respective chairs.

“I know, I know. I’m trying. It’s just...god, everyone is going to be staring at me and I hate being the centre of attention,” Looking down at your hands, you chew at your lips. “What if I mess up the vows? Or I freeze or drop the ring?”

“Hey, it’s normal to feel that. I doubt there’s anyone who’s gotten married who wasn’t at least a little bit anxious about messing something up. Yes, everyone is here to watch you, but they’re for Hoseok too. I’m sure he’s just as worried that he might make a mistake, and if you do then, so what? It’s not going to ruin anything, it just means your human. If anything, people will probably find it endearing. The only person you should concern yourself with is Hoseok, and I doubt there’s anything you could do today to ruin the day for him. Unless you don’t go.” Amelia laughs when you give a shocked gasp, jaw-dropping open and eyes wide.

“I would never do that! But what if he decides he doesn’t want to get married anymore?” Now the worry that had wiggled itself deep inside your mind comes to the fore and you find yourself almost whispering the words. It feels like a betrayal to Hoseok for even thinking he’d do that, but you can’t help the fear.

You must not have been quite enough though as Chungha speaks up, facing you in her chair with a stern expression on her face as she wags her finger. “Lady, do not think that. I don’t want that thought to even enter your head. As if Jung Hoseok is ever going to back out now. I think that man would’ve eloped with you if you’d asked instead. He’s going to be standing at the end of that aisle, probably bawling like a baby.”

“Maybe not that far.” This is from Eden, who’s laid out on the bed in the centre of the room, playing Zelda on her Switch. She’d had her makeup done earlier and is now waiting for the hairdresser to be free while Amelia is waiting for her makeup. All of you had decided that you’d be last to get ready to make sure that everything looked as fresh as possible.

“Want to bet? That man is gonna be sobbing.” This starts up a whole ten-minute discussion about whether or not Hoseok was going to cry at seeing you. Namjoon hadn’t cried but Jimin had during their weddings, surprising no one. But Namjoon had cried at the birth of his daughter.

You weren’t sure, to be honest. Hoseok didn’t cry all that often and you could probably count on one hand how many times you’d seen it over four years. On top of that, you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to see him crying. It made your chest hurt when he did and you always ended up crying too.

Something about seeing strong and proud men cry was just heartbreaking to you. 

For a while, you just sit back and let the conversation wash over you as they all debate and borderline argue, intensely amongst themselves. They’d all switched around now and they’ll soon start getting into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which meant you’d be finally getting ready.

Your nails had been done the night before with a beautiful design in the same colour scheme as the wedding. They looked so pretty and elegant, which was a surprise to you every time you looked at them as you never really bothered doing your nails. While you liked to do fancy makeup looks now and then to post onto social media, nails were not something you were interested in.

Maybe you should reassess that thought.

“Anyway, what we’re all trying, and failing, to say is that Hoseok loves you and if he doesn’t cry then he’s crying inside at how beautiful you are.” Soyeon states firmly, sitting next to you and admiring your nails as well. All the bridesmaids had the same style to keep the theme going and she wiggled her fingers with a bright smile.

“I’m not even ready yet, you don’t know if I’ll be beautiful.”

There’s dead silence in the room after the comment, with even the hairdresser and makeup artist turning to stare at you. Between the six other women in the room, you’re pretty sure that they’ve got every emotion from shock to annoyance to incredulity covered. Feeling yourself get warm at their attention, you look down to your lap in embarrassment.

Obviously, the wrong thing to say.

“Okay, we’re going to ignore that you just said that. You don’t need to be dolled up and in a wedding dress to be beautiful, it’s just going to enhance what you already have. And I don’t want any arguments on that.” Poking your side lightly, you playfully wince at Soyeon as she scolds you. Everyone else is nodding along solemnly before they carry on with whatever they’d been doing.

“Seriously though, I overheard your conversation with Amelia. She’s right. Embrace your feelings but don’t let them overwhelm you. Standing in front of a crowd is nerve-wracking for anyone, but you’ve got the love of your life standing there with you. Just focus on Hoseok, he’ll get you through it. He always has, right?” Soyeon said.

Giving her a half-smile, you nod and do a remarkably good job of looking like a scolded child or something. You know it’s just because she loves you that she doesn’t want you to berate yourself, along with the fact that she knows what you’re like. If someone doesn’t verbally acknowledge your problems then you’ll just obsess over them.

Your phone screen lights up in your lap before it begins to vibrate suddenly, Hoseok’s name visible on the screen. Frowning down at it, you wonder why he’s calling before a multitude of emotions and thoughts runs through your mind.

“Go take it in the bathroom.” Pulling you up, Soyeon practically pushes you into the bathroom before giving you a smile and a thumbs-up as she closes the door.

Seeing the other door is also open, you peek out and let everyone in that room know that you’d be using the bathroom for a few minutes and to not come in. Once you get the acknowledgement, you close and lock it as well before pushing up to sit on the counter.

“Hobi! Why are you calling?” Leaning back against the mirror, you frown deeply as you question him. The first response is just his familiar deep chuckle, the sound already helping to soothe some of your frayed nerves.

“Amelia texted Joon, who told me. I don’t want you to stress yourself out! Not today, today’s meant to be a happy day. No stress. Or anxiety.” Snorting, you roll your eyes as you trace an invisible design onto your thigh.

“Sure, like that’s gonna happen. You know me. And why are you calling? We’re not meant to see each other until the wedding, it’s bad luck!” There’s a brief pause and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes, the deep sigh he lets out telling you all you need to know.

“Meeps, I’m pretty sure that only counts for physically seeing each other. I can’t see you right now. I don’t recall anything about not being allowed to hear you, or talk to you. Besides, we make our luck.” He sounds so nonchalant and now it’s your turn to sigh at him.

“You’re going to get us hit by lightning or something.”

“Impossible, the weather schedule for today is meant to be sunny with a little bit of cloud later on. Nice warm temperatures that aren’t too hot but also not too cold. Perfect. No lightning.” His immediate rebuttal has you laughing, unable to stay mad at him for too long. Not when he’s trying so hard to take your mind off things.

“Seriously though, are you okay? What are you worried about? Talk to me.” Hoseok asks, his voice calm and steady as he stops joking around. There’s a brief moment of resistance, the thought that you don’t want to bother him with your silly thoughts or annoying emotions before you remember that you can trust him. No matter how ridiculous it sounds in your head, Hoseok will listen and he won’t make fun of you.

“I’m just...scared. Of all the people. Like, they’re going to be watching me or staring. What if I look fat or ugly? Or I fuck up saying the vows? Or I drop the ring or my dress splits or something? Or if I trip down the aisle?! Or if you decide you don’t want to marry me anymore?” As you begin to reel off the questions that have been plaguing your mind, you can feel your chest getting a little tighter and your breathing shallower.

With the practised ease of someone who’s dealt with your panic attacks over the years, Hoseok makes calming and reassuring noises over the phone until you’re silent. Just listening to him, you take in the comforting words as he lets you know that you’re okay and everything is fine. Finally, once he thinks you’re calm enough, he carries on.

“Meeps, that’s fine. Don’t be upset that you’re having those thoughts. I’ve had every one of those thoughts today as well. I mean...not the dress one. Substitute that for pants splitting or something, which is even more embarrassing because my underwear is not black today. But the point I’m trying to make here is that it’s normal to have those thoughts today. I’d probably be more worried if you weren’t having them.” He pauses to laugh before you hear shuffling noises.

There’s no doubt he’s probably not even getting into his tuxedo just yet and you curse the fact that men take far less time to get ready than women. He’ll probably only start like...an hour before the ceremony begins or something.

“But all I’ll say is, it doesn’t matter if anything goes wrong because we’ll fix it. You and me, just like always. You won’t look fat or ugly because you’re neither fat nor ugly anyway, instead, you’ll be the most beautiful woman here. Which you always are to me but don’t let my mom hear me tell you that. And I’m going to be standing at the end of the aisle, I promise you that. I’m the one who proposed to you and I will be there, waiting for you. That’s one thing I can assure you of completely.” Hoseok says this firmly, his voice perhaps more serious than you’ve ever heard it before.

You can practically feel his determination to make you understand that he’s going to be there. That he’s going to marry you today, no matter what happens. It makes your heart swell with love and emotion, causing you to press your hand against your mouth.

Hoseok takes your silence as a positive, choosing to let it carry on for a little longer before speaking once more.

“I love you, Meeps. And by the end of today, you’re going to be my wife. We’re going to have a great day with a beautiful ceremony and a fun reception before probably going to bed drunk. Or at least, I’m going to be drunk. Not entirely sure if I’ll be able to take you to Poundtown tonight-”

“Don’t ever say that again.” 

“But if not tonight then definitely tomorrow. Unless you don’t want me to drink, in which case probably tonight if you’re up for it.” Shaking your head, you can’t help but smile at his stupid comments. He always knew how to cheer you up, even if it was with the most ridiculous thing you’d heard today.

“You can drink, I’m not going to make you sober throughout the entire reception. I want you to have fun with everyone, so if you end up drunk then that’s fine. Just don’t go overboard.”

“Choosing to ignore my Poundtown comments, I see.” 

“Jung Hoseok, I am going to hang up now. I will see you later, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” Feeling a little shy, you murmur your next words into the phone.

“Love you too.”

-

The ceremony is officially about to start and you stare at the open door, knowing that outside all your guests are waiting. Not only that, but Hoseok is at the end of the aisle. You’d been reassured by everyone there who had peeked out to make sure, quelling your fears and worries.

All the groomsmen had come inside upon finding out you were here, lining themselves up alongside their specified bridesmaid partners and chatting away happily. They all looked incredibly handsome in their suits, the colours matching the bridesmaids perfectly and you felt a little pride at having thought of a good colour scheme.

Your mom is fussing around you, making sure that your dress looks perfect and that your bouquet hasn’t fallen apart or anything. Sighing, you gently push her hands away as she tries once more to move your necklace.

All of them had given you something as part of the tradition for the bride. Dahyun had lent you a beautiful Cartier bracelet, glowing with diamonds, as part of the ‘something borrowed’ while Chungha had bought you diamond earrings for the ‘something new’. Your mom had given you the bracelet she’d worn for her wedding, now occupying your other wrist and Hoseok’s mom had provided the necklace adorning your neck.

It was a beautiful silver necklace with a dainty leaf design, leading to the main piece in the centre which was dotted with tiny diamonds. Each leaf spreading out had either amethyst or an aquamarine gem in alternating order. She’d ordered it specially made for your wedding, matching your engagement ring with the gems and fulfilling the ‘something blue’.

You’d been amazed at everything they’d given you, understanding now why they’d all told you now to buy any jewellery for the day. They’d all decided to make sure you had everything you needed anyway.

But you knew that your mom’s need to keep straightening out your dress or brushing away unseen dust was just to keep herself preoccupied. She’d already cried once when you’d come out in your wedding dress, makeup and hair all done. That had earned her an exasperated sigh from the makeup artist.

“Mom, mom, come on,” You coo to her, smiling before taking her hands and squeezing. “You gotta go out there, go get your place.” 

She hesitates for a moment, unwilling to leave you before nodding. After a few words of reassurance from her to you, telling you that you’re going to do well and it’s all going to go fine, she turns and hugs your dad tightly before kissing him. You’d feel embarrassed at the sight of it, never quite being comfortable with your parents' displays of affection, but it just causes you to laugh softly.

Once she’s out the door, you hear the music begin from outside, the notes flowing through the door faintly. Everyone inside quietens and you can almost feel the excitement ramp up. It just makes you feel more nervous though, particularly when they start to head out in their pairs slowly.

“Are you ready?” Your dad asks, his eyes already going glassy with tears as his lip wobbles slightly. Giving him a concerned look, you immediately reach up to wipe the tears as they start to fall, feeling your heartbreak at the sight of your dad crying. He never cried.

“Dad! Don’t cry, oh my god. I’m sorry.” Cleaning up his face quickly, you’re stopped by the gentle way he grasps your wrists. For a moment, you think that he’s going to push you away but instead, he pulls you closer and carefully hugs you.

It’s a little awkward as you’re trying not to ruin the carefully done hair and makeup, but you can’t deny your dad a hug. Especially when you’d never really been much of a hugger growing up. You would be cruel to deny him one, especially on your wedding day. Your parents were feeling emotional that their little girl was getting married today.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just your old dad getting sappy. You look so beautiful. Hoseok is so lucky, you better remind him of that every day.” He’s pulled back now, giving you the softest smile that is still a little watery. His hands move to your shoulders and he stands back to examine you fully, his eyes taking in everything.

Before you can respond to him, Yoongi is disappearing out of the door and heading towards the aisle. He’s alone, as you’d planned, but in one hand is the bouquet that Hoseok’s sister would’ve held had she still been alive. It had been his suggestion to hold it, symbolising the family member that Hoseok didn’t have anymore and you’d been more than willing to agree.

You wondered what Hoseok thought when he saw it as neither of you had told him that Yoongi would be holding it. Hopefully, he was happy with it, along with his parents.

Turning back to you, your dad squeezes your shoulders reassuringly before smiling at you. Ironically, all it does is make you more nervous as you realise that now you’re the one who’s going to have to walk down that aisle next. 

“Come on, it’s time to make your fiancé cry.” His words in a teasing tone, your dad turns to face the door before offering you his arm. Standing there, you stare at him before looking at the door with trepidation. Nerves roil in your stomach as you hear the faint sound of music playing, knowing that everyone out there is waiting for you.

Which in turn means everyone will be staring at you.

Those nerves quickly turn to anxiety and your breath comes faster, chest feeling a little constricted by the tight bodice of the dress. Without even realising it, your hands start to shake and the bouquet in them shudders visibly.

Quickly, your dad takes the bouquet from you to make sure that you don’t accidentally deflower them or crush the stems. The last thing you needed was to ruin your perfect bouquet only minutes before you were supposed to walk down the aisle.

It frees up your hands and you find yourself flapping them as you stress, trying to shake out the negative emotions as you pant. Your dad’s eyes widen, obviously panicking himself at your obvious distress. He’s never had to deal with you struggling like this before and he doesn’t know what to do but his paternal instincts kick in quickly.

“Hey, come on, sweetheart. Breathe, breathe. Take a big breath in, come on, that’s it. Not let it out slowly. And again, that’s right.” Talking to you in his comforting voice, tone level and low, you follow his instructions and start to feel a little calmer as you force yourself to calm your breathing. It’s hard, and you still feel the anxiety but it feels a little more manageable now.

Closing your eyes, you run through all the tips your therapist had given you for how to cope with anxiety attacks. What worked for you was to sing in your head, the lyrics, whatever song you were loving lately. It probably takes longer than you’d have liked but finally you feel like you can cope with your emotions enough to carry on.

When you open your eyes again, your dad is giving you an expectant, yet worried, look. Shaking your hands once more, you reach out and take the bouquet from him before taking a deep breath. Linking your arm through his, you straighten your shoulders and lift your chin before smiling at him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

-

Walking down the aisle is surprisingly less stressful than you’d imagined. The famous wedding song plays through the air as you walk slowly and the whole atmosphere feels almost like a fairytale. The soft lights twinkle even in the daylight while the gentle, warm breeze makes the ribbons on the chairs flutter delicately.

Along the floor, the white and purple rose petals that Namjoon’s daughter had spread in her role as flower girl were strewn haphazardly. A few of them caught the breeze and rolled delicately to a new place, making it seem like the floor was consistently changing. You liked it, smiling at the sight of how beautiful everything looked.

Everyone was staring at you, as you’d expected, but surprisingly it wasn’t as intimidating as you’d thought. You didn’t exactly enjoy it but it wasn’t terrible. Probably because you were more focused on initially admiring how perfect everything looked. How months and months of thought and money had finally accumulated into the perfect wedding.

But mostly, you weren’t as bothered by the staring because you were focused on the end of the aisle. There was no real altar here, given that it was being held at a hotel and everything, but the metal garden arch at the end had been decorated in delicate flowers, ribbons and lights to make an even better end.

And beneath it stood Hoseok.

If you’d ever thought Hoseok looked handsome before then it paled in comparison to him today. His black tuxedo made him look tall and slim, every part of him looking perfectly put together and elegant. The deep purple waistcoat beneath his jacket contrasted with the white of his shirt perfectly; the colour combination making his skin almost glow with health and happiness.

There was only the slightest hint of tattoos at the edge of his collar, leaving to the imagination the artwork he had permanently on his body beneath his clothes but you didn’t need to imagine. You’d seen them all, traced them delicately into your memory over the years until you could point out where they were without even seeing them.

Finally reaching him, you paused to look at your dad and gave him a bright smile of gratitude before giving him a second hug. This one was a little tighter than before and when you let go of him, you saw that he was crying once more. He didn’t give your hand to Hoseok, instead just gave him a stern look while trying to surreptitiously wipe away his tears.

“You look after her, Jung Hoseok. You make sure she’s the happiest woman.” There’s iron in his voice, telling Hoseok that it wasn’t a question but more a command. But there’s also love and affection in it, something Hoseok can tell as well by the way he nods his head.

Handing your bouquet to Chungha, you take Hoseok’s proffered hand. Up close, you can take in the details of his face better and you take a moment to simply admire him and imprint him into your memory.

The sides of his head had been shaven, the undercut short and seen with the style he’d chosen to wear today. His hair had been styled back, pushed away from his forehead. It was a look that had made you weak in the knees many times over the years and you’d practically begged him to have it for the wedding, knowing that he’d blow everyone’s mind with how handsome he looked.

Hoseok had a face that looked like it had been hand-carved by the gods from the finest marble anyway and this hairstyle showed off all the highlights of his face. The high cheekbones that made his smiles so animated, his cutting jawline, the clean slope of his nose, the heart-shaped smile that lit his entire face and the dimples that made him seem so human. 

His lip ring was still in, the silver shining in the sunlight. He’d been unsure whether to wear it but you’d told him to embrace himself and keep it. You’d fallen in love with him as he was, and you wanted him to show himself how you saw him. Which included his piercings and tattoos.

Your heart clenched though when you looked into his eyes finally. Hoseok’s eyes were one of your favourite things about him. The crescents they turned into when he smiled brightly, pushed into the shape by his cheeks and the way his eyes could practically dance with delight when he was happy.

Today though, those beautiful and expressive eyes were watery with tears. The wet streak on his cheek told you that he’d already had some of them fall and you frowned at the sight of them. Everyone had been right; Hoseok had cried upon seeing you down the aisle.

“Baby.” You whisper, unsure if you’re meant to talk to him. Deciding you don’t care, you reach up to wipe away the tears and smile when he kisses the palm of your hand before nuzzling into it, uncaring of everyone else.

“Meeps, you look perfect. I read your letter, I love you too.” Before you can stop him, he’s leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. There’s a murmur in the crowd, alongside some laughter and he looks over at everyone with a raised brow.

No one says anything though and he gets a satisfied look, ignoring your shy expression as you turn away from everyone.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” Keeping your voice low, you give a hesitant smile to the official who will be taking you both through your ceremony. Hoseok lets out a snort of laughter as he squeezes your hand tight, letting his thumb run along the back of your hand lovingly.

“I don’t care. It’s our wedding, I’ll do what I want.” And before you can stop him, he turns you and gives you another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. Eyes widening, you can’t help but giggle as you hear yet more laughter.

You should be annoyed at him, but you know he’s a force of nature. Plus, you don’t care. It feels nice to know he can’t help himself.

“Okay, let’s get married, Meeps.” He grins at you before facing the officiant once more. Staring at him a moment longer, you smile at him and nod.

“Let’s get married.”

-

Hobi Hobi,

We’re getting married today! Are you excited? I hope you’re reading this when I told you to, if not then you’re cheating >:[ it feels weird to write a letter. I don’t even know if I’ve ever done this before, so I’m sorry if it sounds really cheesy and lame. What do people write in these normally? I’m just going to write what comes to mind so if it ends up sappy then you’re not allowed to tease me later about it. 

Anyway, I want you to know that I’m sorry that I suck so much at telling you how I feel and my emotions. I wish I could be one of those people who’s telling you every moment how handsome you are and how much I love you but I can’t. I’m sorry :( I’m trying, I swear! Even if I don’t get to tell you as often as you deserve, I hope you know that I love you more than anything in the world.

Don’t ever forget that, okay? Even when we’re arguing over something silly or we go to bed mad at each other, don’t forget that. I know we’re pretty good at talking things out but there’s always that chance that we could have a big blowout. So I want you to remember that I love you. 

I’m still not entirely sure what I did to deserve you, but I don’t regret sending you that message. If anything, I think I should send the Flower team a big bunch of flowers or something for creating the algorithm that brought you up as a match. Imagine if it hadn’t and I’d just deleted the app, we’d have never met and I’d still be lonely and sad.

But we did meet, and I took a chance on you by sending you that embarrassing message. And then you took a chance by actually meeting up with me and going on that date. I still remember it, and I don’t know if I ever told you but I still have the ticket for the escape room. I know you still have yours in your wallet :) Thank you for giving me your time, even if I wasn’t your type. I hope I’m your type now.

I’m not sure that I will ever be able to tell you how important you are to me. Not only myself but my life. You’ve helped me to embrace myself and learn to love myself over the years through kindness. I know my limits in terms of my mental health now and you’ve helped to support me with the medication and the therapist. Neither of those were things I’d been comfortable with doing before your encouragement. But you also gave me a safe space to break down in; somewhere that I knew I could be at my most vulnerable mentally without having to risk being hurt even more.

You held me when I cried, you comforted me when I panicked and you calmed my anxiety over the years. I can never thank you enough for helping me to understand that these aren’t deficiencies and I’m not broken. I just need a little help to get through things sometimes. At the same time, I hope that I’ve become that safe space for you as well. I know that you’re not as emotional as I am, but I feel that you’ve opened up to me about things that hurt you. I’ll keep your secrets safe and I’ll always be here for you!

I hope you’re happy with your life now. With me, and our home and our furbabies. I hope you stay happy, and if you don’t then talk to me. Please. I don’t want us to ever realise that we’re making each other unhappy and I don’t want to ever be the reason for negativity. I want to spend the rest of my life with you in our little home, growing old together as we play board games and dote on our animals while you increase your tattoo collection even more. I know that people like to say that they can’t imagine their lives with their significant other, but I really do feel like that.

My life without you would be hollow and monochrome, as you bring colour to my world and fill it with joy and happiness. I’ve never laughed as much as I have these last few years with you and I know we’ll keep that in our relationship if we try hard. 

I don’t really know where this letter is going and I’m babbling now. But I guess the main thing is just that I can’t wait to marry you. It may not be very feminist of me but I can’t wait to take your name and be your wife. I can’t wait to call you my husband. I’m going to be terrified in the ceremony and so nervous but I’ll be happy too, I promise! I still can’t believe that you picked me, out of all the women you’ve seen, to be your girlfriend and then decided that you wanted to marry me.

Jung Hoseok, I solemnly swear to treasure you for the rest of your life and make sure you know how much I love you. I might not be able to tell you all that much, but I’ll show you. I’ll make you smile and laugh, I’ll buy you things that make me think of you, I’ll hug you tight and cuddle you until you’re complaining.

So in case it wasn’t obvious enough, I love you. I just want you to know because I know I suck at telling you, like I said. I’m also bad at writing letters but what’s new? I’ll finish this off quickly so you’re not spending too long reading this. Don’t want to make you late for our wedding after all.

I love you. I love you, Jung Hoseok. I love you, Hobi. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Lots and lots and lots of love, your soon to be wife <333333

[recurring-polynya]

Tokusatsu Au where Rukia plays the lead actress in a superhero action show. Renji plays one of the villains and they are The most popular ship in the fandom. Bonus points if Orihime plays the main villain and loves every second of it.

This was the very first prompt I got, and I fell in love. Unfortunately, aside from a brief period of being grotesquely fascinated with Power Rangers as teen, I know almost nothing about tokusatsu. I did as much research as I could and I attempted to watch an episode of Kamen Rider, but my eyes glazed over halfway through. Anyway, please forgive my inaccuracies, I wrote this with my heart.

ao3 | ff.net

🏍    ⚡   🎬

“Uh, looks like we’re almost out of time,” the panel moderator for “High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe!: A Sneak Peak at Season 5” declared, “but would you be willing to take just a few audience questions?”

Head Screenwriter Kurosaki Ichigo glanced at Leading Actress Kuchiki Rukia out of the corner of his eye, and she gave a tiny nod.

“Yeah, sure!” he replied.

There was already a young woman waiting at the microphone, practically vibrating with anxiety. She was wearing a t-shirt that had ZabiTo4Ever!! handwritten in marker on it. Rukia knew, deep down in her bones, what the question was going to be.

“Hi, yes, hello, big fan of your work! My question is: are Tomoe and Zabimaru going to kiss this season?”

“No,” Rukia started to say.

“As you probably know,” Ichigo said loudly on top of her, “the show holds close to the core plot points of Kuna-sensei’s manga, although, because of her minimalist style, we do expand a lot of the dialogue and filler scenes. She has said in several interviews that High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe! is not a romance manga, so the odds of Tomoe and Zabimaru ever kissing on screen are very, very low.”

The young woman stared at Ichigo grumpily. “Does this also count Zabimaru’s secret college student identity, Satonako Takeru?”

Ichigo stared back at her. “Yes. It does.”

The next question came from a person wearing a full suit of HellKnight’s plasma armor made out of overlapping plates of cardboard. Rukia was kind of impressed by it. She wondered if he could sit down.

“Hi, Kurosaki-sensei, I am a huge fan of your work,” a voice emanated from deep within the cardboard. “I was wondering if you are influenced at all by fanworks, and if Episode 73: Pride is on the Line!: The Bake Sale Must Go On! was based in any way on the classic fanfiction, ‘Tell Me All Your Best Lies’? It’s the top story by kudos in the ZabiTo tag, which I might point out is the most popular shipping category on AO3.”

Ichigo cleared his throat gently. “I am contractually not allowed to read fanfiction, although I do enjoy fanart! There are some incredibly talented artists in the fandom, although for some reason, no one ever wants to draw pictures of Lead Screenwriters.”

“I’ll draw you, sleeping on the set like you always do,” Rukia offered, and that got a pretty big laugh. Rukia’s Tumblr of behind-the-scenes doodle comics was beloved among the fandom.

The next question was from a nonbinary person wearing a big poufy skirt and a hairstyle that would make their make-up and hair guru, Yumichika, sit up and take notice. “Hi, this is a question for Kuchiki-san! If the show is going to roughly keep pace with the manga, as it has done up until now, you should be shooting the storyline where Tomoe and Queen Bloodbuzz switch bodies later this year. I was wondering if you could comment on how you feel about filming that storyline?”

Finally! A good one! “Yes!” Rukia nodded eagerly. “I don’t usually like to speak for my fellow cast members, but Orihime and I are beyond excited about playing each other. We’ve been studying each other’s mannerisms and practicing already! Does anyone want to hear my Queen Bloodbuzz cackle?” She wagged her eyebrows as the audience cheered. “Here goes-- bwaHaHaHaHAHAHAHAAHAAAHAAAAAAAA!”

“Bonechilling,” Ichigo commented dryly as the audience erupted.

“Amazing, Kuchiki-san!” the moderator exclaimed. “I think there is time for one more, but this will be the last question!”

A tall girl in a full set of High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe motorcycle leathers stepped to the microphone. She was holding a notebook. “Hello!” she warbled. “In a 2020 interview with the Psychics and Sidekicks podcast, Abarai Renji was asked about his opinion on ZabiTo as a ship, and he replied,” she consulted her notebook, “‘Tomoe is such a cool lady and talented Battle Clairvoyant, and she always follows her heart and stays true to herself. I think that Zabimaru can’t help but be impressed with her, even though they’re enemies, and I always try to roll that into our on-screen interactions.’ I know that in the past you’ve refused to comment on the ship, but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on, y’know, his thoughts?”

“Well, he’s correct, of course, Tomoe is very cool and admirable,” Rukia replied, which drew a few laughs, although it seemed like the audience was leaning forward in anticipation of her answer. “Like I said, I don’t like to speak for other cast members. I’ll be doing a big cast panel with Abarai and Inoue and Matsumoto and Ukitake tomorrow afternoon, and I hope you all can make it! See you then!”

The moderator thanked them enthusiastically, and then Ichigo and Rukia slipped out the back guest entrance.

“Evasive as always, Kuchiki,” Ichigo teased.

“Whatever,” Rukia sniffed. “The higher ups say we’re not supposed to comment on stuff like that, and I was not commenting. By the way, how many secret fanfic accounts are you up to? Four?”

“It’s only three!” Ichigo paused. “I wrote that fanfic the guy brought up.”

“Of course you did,” Rukia sighed. “I do blame you personally for the popularity of the damn ship.”

“Me? Blame Kuna for making up two such sexy, emotionally constipated dumbasses!” Ichigo defended.

“Also, it’s not Ichigo’s fault that you and Abarai have insane chemistry.”

Rukia spun around, grinning. “Orihime!”

Rukia’s two co-stars, Inoue Orihime and Abarai Renji, the portrayers of Tomoe’s demonic archnemeses, stood in the hallway behind them.

“We sat in on your panel!” Orihime beamed. “You two were brilliant!”

“Don’t worry,” Renji added. “We were incognito.”

“Incognito” was relative, Rukia supposed, when you were at Tokyo’s biggest tokusatsu

convention.

Orihime was wearing a Zabimaru outfit so detailed that she probably could have won a prize down at the cosplay hall. She had the gravity-defying ponytail, the eyeliner, the insane widow's peak (complete with forehead tatts), the fangs, the motorcycle boots. The paper mache snake skull helmet was a little lopsided, but it was charming. She had her top zipped a little higher than canon, but that was forgivable, too.

Renji had taken the opposite tack of looking as much like a normal person-- or at least a normal Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe superfan-- as possible. Relaxed fit jeans and an oversized hoodie de-emphasized his ultra-fit physique. He was wearing a t-shirt with a very dramatic rendering of Orihime that said “Queen Bloodbuzz can step on me!” and a ball cap with the logo of Seireitei University, the fictional college Tomoe and Takeru attended.

“You think you’re in disguise,” Rukia pointed out, “but there are thousands of teen girls in this place with entire Tumblrs dedicated to your stupid face when you’re out of costume.”

Renji cocked an eyebrow at her. “You underestimate me, Rukia. I have bought… new sunglasses.” With a flourish, he whipped out a pair of the dorkiest wayfarers she’d ever seen, and flipped them onto his face. “I’ve disappeared! Who am I? Where am I?”

“You look really great, Orihime,” Ichigo said, his cheeks coloring a little bit. “Did you get Uryuu or Yumichika to help you with that costume?” In his continuing theme of doing things he wasn’t supposed to, Ichigo had finally started dating Orihime on the downlow around the time they finished up filming last season. It had done absolutely nothing for how shy he still got around her. They were, in Rukia’s opinion, cute as hell.

“Oh, no, that would be cheating!” Orihime replied, wagging a finger at him. “Well…maybe I did cheat, just a tiny bit. Renji helped me make the helmet and he held up references for me while I was painting on the tattoos.”

“Only the forehead ones,” Renji quickly added.

“He wouldn’t even offer feedback on my booby tattoos!” Orihime frowned. She leaned forward. “Rukia, how do they look?”

Ichigo turned even redder.

“Perfect, as in all you do!” Rukia replied loftily.

“What’s everyone got coming up next?” Renji asked. “I was thinking of slipping out and trying to pick up some real coffee.”

“I’m judging a villainess-themed cosplay competition,” Orihime chirped. “But I’m dying for a blueberry caramel iced latte. Renji, my henchman, pleeeeease!”

“Of course, my liege,” Renji replied in his Zabimaru voice.

It’s not like it had been a hard decision to accept the role of the motorcycle-riding, badass heroine of one of the most popular manga of the last decade, but it had turned out to be one of the best decisions of Rukia’s life. not just her career. Aside from a few of the money-obsessed executives, she liked nearly everyone in the cast and crew, but the fact that the fact that the ruthless, homicidal, literally Hell-spawned villains of the show were played by the two sweetest marshmallow people she had ever met just took the cake. Renji and Orihime had already known each other from some voicework they had done previously, and their excitement at working together on a live-action project had infected the entire cast from the start. Rukia wasn’t sure, but she strongly suspected that Renji was the one who had hyped Orihime up to ask Ichigo out.

“I have a writers’ workshop I’m moderating this afternoon, and I wanted to review the writing samples people sent in,” Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head. “I’d love to stop by that cosplay contest, though, at least for a few minutes.”

“You’ll be needing caffeine, too, then, eh?” Renji offered. “Hot, black, and in the largest cup they make, as usual?”

“Ugh, you’re the best,” Ichigo groaned. “You wanna power-up this season? Costume update? You know what? Maybe I’ll just have you defeat Tomoe once and for all, no one likes her anyway.”

“C’mon, you know I’m the world’s number one Tomoe simp, don’t do that!” Renji laughed.

Rukia rolled her eyes. “I’m free and I could use some fresh air. Besides, it’s going to take all your dumb muscles just to carry Kurosaki’s vat of coffee back here.”

“Cool!” Renji proclaimed. “We’ll be back soon!”

“Thanks, Renjiiiii!” Orihime waved.

“You need to stop off and put on a disguise?” Renji asked.

“No point in it, I always get recognized,” Rukia sighed, pulling her sunglasses out of her purse anyway.

“Here,” Renji said, plunking his hat on her head. “Maybe this will help.”

“Thanks,” Rukia replied, and then did a double take. “Whaaaaaat is on your head?”

“Shut up!” Renji laughed. He usually shaved his head when they were filming, because it made it easier to deal with the make-up and wigs, but since they were between seasons, he’d grown his hair out into a short, tousled mop of reddish-brown waves. He looked, for the lack of a better word, dreamy. “I shot a movie over the summer, and they wanted me to look softer.”

Rukia looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. “You didn’t tell me you were doing a movie!”

“Oh, it was just a little indy romcom thing. I wasn’t sure it was gonna pan out, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“You were in a romcom? You’re kidding me!” They ducked out of a side door of the convention center into the bright sunshine.

“Yeah, it’s about a guy who goes to the gym to try to get ripped to impress a girl, and makes friends with me, this nice, already ripped dude who gives him lifting tips and encourages him a bunch. By the end of the movie, it turns out we have crushes on each other.”

“Oh, no, that sounds really cute, actually!”

“It was written by a woman who graduated from one of Ichigo’s writing workshops. The script was really snappy and Ichigo thought having someone like me as the gym guy would give it just a bit of campy cachet. You know what a good sense he’s got for stuff like that.”

“That was cool of you to go out on a limb a little,” Rukia replied.

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d been wanting to try something like that for a while, actually.”

Rukia blinked. “You aren’t… you aren’t thinking of leaving the show, are you?”

“Huh? No. No! No, the show means the world to me, I would never. But… it’s not gonna run forever, y’know?”

“I would have guessed you’d want to be a big action star or something!” Rukia said, throwing a few air punches. “That’s my dream!”

Renji stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, that’s what I thought I wanted when I first got into acting. I’d read the Tomoe manga, and I thought playing Zabimaru would be a good jumping-off point, besides just being a cool character overall.”

“Is that… not true?” Rukia frowned.

“Oh, I mean, I guess so! I didn’t really know about the fandom, though and… to be honest, I’m kinda into the idea that there are all these fans who think I’m complex and redeemable?”

Rukia regarded him out of the corner of her eye. “They just want to fix you.”

“Maybe! Ichigo made me read this one fanfic that was eight thousand words of the reader getting sick and Zabimaru making them soup? And feeding them the soup? I still haven’t decided how I feel about it.”

“How does he have time to find these things? Does he even sleep?”

“Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to be well-rounded and it was fun. I’m still mostly an action guy, but I wouldn’t mind doin’ something with a romantic subplot. A period drama or something like that. I look pretty good in hakama, you know.”

“I bet you do,” Rukia laughed. She squinted at him, but his expression was unreadable behind the shades. Renji didn’t have the classic leading man looks, not like her ridiculously famous older brother, but she could definitely see him as the best friend, the B-plot romance, with his cute, messy hair and that big doofy grin.

“By the way, I’m sorry you had to field that question about me spilling my romantic sensibilities on that podcast.”

Rukia laughed. “You didn’t even answer the question, either! These people are relentless!”

Renji stopped at a street corner and peered down the various possible directions they could go. “Which way feels like it might have a coffee shop?”

“You didn’t have one in mind before we left? I thought you knew where we were going!”

“Nah, I just like to go out and see what there is.”

“I can look up a map,” Rukia said, reaching in her bag for her phone.

“Let’s just go this way,” Renji said, stepping out into the street in the direction that had the WALK light. Rukia sighed and had to scramble to catch up with him.

“So, what do you think about it?”

“Huh?” Rukia asked. “Think about what?”

“Our ship. ZabiTo.”

“I can’t believe you just said that word out loud. And you know we’re not supposed to give our opinion on it!”

“Aw, c’mon, we’re not supposed to give public statements on our opinions. I don’t think there’s any harm in talking between ourselves. We’re in disguise, even.”

“‘Disguise’,” Rukia sniffed.

“You don’t like it, I can tell.”

“He’s a bad guy! Everyone always talks about chemistry, and that may be true, but I just don’t think that Tomoe could ever get over his acts of violence and cruelty.”

“Queen Bloodbuzz is cruel. Zabimaru is not cruel.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but still. He’s kidnapped just about all of Tomoe’s friends and or turned them into monsters at one time or another. He’s always setting Karakura Town on fire or flooding it with magic lizard goo. He ruined the sports festival.”

“Maybe the sports festival deserved to be ruined,” Renji muttered under his breath.

“Okay, you’ve got a point on that one,” Rukia admitted.

“It’s really clear though, that he’s got some agenda beyond just simping for Queen Bloodbuzz--”

“The simping for Queen Bloodbuzz is the most relatable thing about him, to be honest.”

“Granted. But, what if he’s got a good reason for everything he does, actually? What if he’s doing all of this against his own moral code as a means of infiltrating Hell itself and getting himself into a position of trust so that he can bring down the Lords of Hell from the inside?”

Rukia slipped her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose. “Does Kuna give you Zabimaru spoilers?” The reclusive creator High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe! was only barely involved with the television show, but she did privately meet with each of the cast members about once a year. Most of Rukia’s meetings consisted of Kuna giving her constructive criticism on her battle poses.

“No, mostly we practice sneering,” Renji replied. “But I gotta play the guy, so I gotta think about this, you know, what motivates him? I mean, you’re probably right, it would never work out. But unlike Tomoe, whose principles would call for her to ignore any attraction she has to him, Zabimaru has the freedom to pine for her, perhaps because his love is futile and he doesn’t think he deserves it anyway.”

“That’s kinda dark, dude,” Rukia frowned.

“Yes, well, that is the kind of character acting that netted me the 2019 Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Best Villain Award, Foreign Language Category.”

“That’s literally what’s going through your head when you’re shouting that if I can’t make some sick motorcycle jump, you’ll turn all my friends into stuffed animal versions of themselves?”

“No, of course not! At those times I’m thinking about how much I love my job. OH! and what is that I see!” Renji struck an extremely Zabimaru pose. “A MISTER DONUT!”

“My hero!” Rukia exclaimed, unable to resist an opportunity to shout dramatically. “I’m sorry I doubted you!”

“I think we should get some donuts, too. Orihime loves donuts,” Renji declared.

“Oh, for sure,” Rukia agreed. She was thoughtful for a moment. It would be easy to move on to a different subject, the subject being donuts, but she wasn’t happy with leaving the last conversation hanging. “Look, Renji, just because I don’t like the dumb ship, you know that’s not a reflection on you, right?”

“Huh?” Renji replied. “You mean you don’t mind if I like it?”

“Well… I mean, I don’t, I guess, but what I really meant was, er… we joke a lot, but Tomoe and Zabimaru are just parts, y’know? Just because I don’t think Zabimaru isn’t good boyfriend material doesn’t mean I…” Rukia trailed off, suddenly realizing what she was saying. “Um. What I mean is. You’re very nice and probably one of my favorite people I’ve ever worked with and if someone I knew wanted to ask you out, I would definitely encourage them to, A+ guy, I’d say, probably would make a great boyfriend.”

Renji pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead and regarded her for a long moment. “For the record, Kuchiki, I think that both you and Tomoe would make excellent girlfriend material.” While Rukia stood there and gaped like a fish, he turned and pushed open the door to the coffee shop. “Ichigo likes crullers and Orihime always wants the most colorful thing they’ve got. Do you know what you want?”

“I need to think about it,” Rukia squeaked. She wasn’t talking about donuts.

🏍    ⚡   🎬 

Bonus: Here are my notes from when I was making up the show. I hope this wasn’t too confusing!

High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe!

based on a manga by reclusive mangaka Kuna Mashiro

Head Screenwriter: Kurosaki Ichigo

🌟 Starring: 🌟

Kuchiki Rukia as Yukimura Tomoe, a spunky college student who can see ghosts and fights demons from Hell! She rides a motorcycle!

Inoue Orihime as Queen Bloodbuzz, a Lady of Hell, who seeks to gather energy from the Living Realm so that she can become the Supreme Ruler of Hell. Very aesthetic. Much bees.

Abarai Renji as Zabimaru, Queen Bloodbuzz’s ruthless henchman. He leads a double life as fierce-looking, but gentle-hearted college student Satonaka Takeru! What is his long game??

[kickingitwithkirk]

Beyond Seduction

Summary: Isobella Tennant wants her independence but society dictates she must conform to their ways. Sam Winchester is the most sought after artist in London and one of its most notorious rakes. He also has a secret he’s kept hidden. They come together with their own agendas and find something more than either expected.

Pairing: Artist!Sam Winchester x Isobella Tennant

Word Count: 3137

Warnings: Cursing, appearance shaming, low self esteem, dominating mother, attempted abduction and assault

A/N: for #OC Apprecation Day 2020 #OC’s are People Too

A/N II: Few months ago I came across a stash of old romance novels I’ve had for umpteen years when I had this idea for a series with Sam Winchester. I had been playing with for a while, getting nowhere, and one evening I was watching Thomas Kinkade’s Christmas Cottage with Jared Padalecki and viola Artist!Sam.    Not an original title but I liked the sound of it.

Part II Masterlist

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

London 1875

December 21

“Your daughter will marry my son by lent.” Arthur Ketch forcefully stated as he stood in front of the drawing room window.

“Of course Isobella will marry Ernest, but it’s impossible to do it that soon,” Lavinia Tennant, the Duchess of Monmouth huffed out, running her hand down the over skirt of her terre D'Egypte dress trying to hide nervousness running through her, “but she is the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth, it will take at least a year to plan once the bannes have been read.”

“I have given you too much leeway already Lavi and will not have my son wait any longer,” Ketch said calmly, calling her the beloved nickname her husband gave her on their wedding night. Walking over and reaching out to stroke her cheek, watching with satisfaction as she trembled when he grabbed her arm instead, “or I will go to your husband about us.”

It wasn’t the first time he had inferred he would do it but there was something more in his tone this time.

Ketch’s roughness had been exciting, eliciting intense pleasures she had never felt and had come to crave. He was a far cry from her husband, who possessed a loving countenance and even temperament.

She couldn’t initially understand why Ketch hadn’t been accepted by their society. He was intelligent, charming and a Baron after all, even if the title had been bought by his father, who had been in the coal trade.

It was when she tried to end their affair his true intentions surfaced. Ketch had pursued her for the political advancement of his only son Ernest, who worked for Lavinia’s husband in Parliament.

Ketch planned to make his son Prime Minister of England and the Duke of Monmouth’s connections were his ticket. Blackmailing the duchess into forcing her only daughter Isobella to marry Ernest would solidify his position in society.

“I’ve instructed Ernest to propose again at your party in two weeks and she better not refuse him this time, you’ll make sure of that I have no doubt.” Ketch’s menacing tone said it all, he would follow through on his threat this time.

New Years Eve

“I hear he is indeed very talented,” Alexandra Pembrook informs her companion as they strolled into the library, stopping in front of the newly unveiled portrait of David Tennant, the Duke of Monmouth, “and not just as a painter according to Lady Vance.”

Isobella Tennant looked at her friend raising an eyebrow, “Since when do you listen to the idol gossip of Beatrice Vance? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”

“That juicy tidbit came by way of her ladies maid. Apparently, she overheard Beatrice telling Lady Lucas how her husband came home unexpectedly and almost caught them In flagrante delicto.”

“This is why I’m happy that I got Katie, she would never gossip about any goings on in this household.” Isobella firmly stated.

Katie had been her mother’s governess before becoming hers and then ladies maid after she was presented in society. Katie moved slower with age and hard of hearing so if anything scandalous was said in her presence, she’d never hear it anyways.

“I also heard he spent three months pursuing Lady De Burgh,” Isobella squinted slightly, trying to place the woman, “you know, Queen Victoria’s newest lady-in-waiting. Palace gossip is that he likes to savor his quarry like delicate morsels, bit by bit.”  She licked her lips in emphasis, “Too bad he didn’t see you when he was here, I’d bet my new phaeton he would’ve been more than up for the challenge of obtaining you.”

“Lexi!” Isobella gasped, using her best friend since they were both in pram’s nickname, trying to sound scandalized at the implication but grinned at her knowing the notorious Sam Winchester, who she only saw briefly once while her father was sitting for him, wouldn’t have noticed her even if he sat on her.

She did not possess the in favor looks like Lexi; golden blond hair, cornflower blue eyes and envious curves that were enhanced by the fashions of the day, that seemed to tempt him judging by his preferred quarry.

Isobella or Izzy, as everyone but her mother called her, had inherited her grandmother Tennant’s shock of long, thick, unruly copper gold hair, as did her four brothers, who at least had the fortune of being able to keep theirs shorn short, and pale skin covered in cinnamon freckles for days. What couldn’t be overlooked by anyone was, like her brothers, she was tall.

So tall in fact, she stood at least half a head and, in some cases, a full head taller than most of the men in their acquaintance. Her only redeeming qualities, according to her mother, was her title of Lady Tennant and the inheritance that came with it.

Despite being the plainest deb to enter society in years when she was eighteen, Isobella had a line of suitors and was greatly admired for her kindness, quick wit, and intelligence, especially in debate, having learned the skill at her father’s knee.

Now her admirers had drastically fallen away. It seemed what was admired in the girl wouldn’t be tolerated in the woman.

Isabella’s options were dwindling as she was no longer a blossoming flower in society, being just a few months away from turning twenty three.  

“Lexi, what kind of scandal could I get into, it’s not like I’ve got suitors beating down my door anymore.”

Lexi looked fondly at her best friend. She didn’t understand what had happened to all of Izzy’s admirers either. Her place in society and her illustrious title as the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth had drawn a lot of the lesser ranking gentleman showing interest but she knew her friend well enough that their status wouldn’t matter to her if they actually loved her.

“You know Ernest is planning on asking again tonight.”

“You know I will decline again.”

“I can’t understand why you keep turning him down Izzy. He is dependable, would give you everything…”

“You know I love Ernest like a brother but there is no way we could make a go of it. He is too placid and I’m…”

“A damn handful, especially when that hard head of yours gets an idea. I didn’t love Pembrook when I agreed to marry him but now…I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“What I want is a man who will love me as is, let me be myself, not expect me to change for the sake of their ego.”

January 10

“Isobella Tennant, tell me that what I heard is not true!” Lavinia yelled as she swept into the breakfast nook.

Izzy and her father both looked up at the overwrought duchess. “Heard what mother?”

“That you were seen racing Ambrose Murdoch on the commons in a pair of breeches!”

“He said Boudicia couldn’t be as quick as his hunter being a mare…”

“And you were riding astride like some common…”

“… I wasn’t gonna let him get away with insulting my horse!”

“Horses, horses, horses! That’s all you think about! It’s time you stop messing with those animals and start breeding my next grandchild!”

“Lavinia! Don’t speak to our daughter that way.”

“David, I need to speak to you privately.” The duchess replied through her clenched teeth.

***

“Our daughter has turned down Ernest again, he is her last chance of getting married and it’s time you put your foot down and insist on her accepting him.” The Duke opened his mouth to say something, “No David, no more excuses. I know she is your favorite for some unfathomable reason and you’ve coddled her for far to long. She is not a fresh candidate anymore and with her plain looks and stubbornness finding another man to marry her…”

The Duke sighed as she droned on about Izzy turning out to be such a disappointment, too strong willed and independent for a woman, saddened that his wife had such a low opinion of their only daughter.

Isobella had always marched to her own beat, which was completely out of tune with her mother’s, long ago learning how to appease her vanity when it became apparent Izzy would not be the beauty her mother had been in her day.

Lavinia Emerson had been the most sought after debutante of her day, possessing luxurious blond locks, chocolate brown eyes and acres of creamy skin encasing a figure that, even after bearing five children, still turned heads.

When she accepted his proposal, David Tennant was under no illusion it was for anything other than for his title as the future Duke of Monmouth. But over the years she had come to love him and they had a good marriage, raising four fine son’s, all married with families of their own except Richard, the youngest at nineteen.

And yes, Izzy was his favorite, not because she was the only girl but she reminded him of his mother, she had that same free spirit but hadn’t above changing her ways for the sake of her family, as he was sure Izzy would once she was married.

“We’ve discussed this before and it’s time to tell her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right, if she didn’t accept Ernest, who was an upstanding gentleman despite who his father was; Isobella would end up either alone, being exiled to the edge of good society and tainting her brother’s families or forced to marry anyone who would be willing to take her at her age.

Two nights later

Izzy stared out the large window still unable to comprehend the ultimatum her parents had given her.

Marry Ernest or loose Katie, her horses, and her freedom.

Her father knew what it would do to her under this virtual house arrest, to be at her mother’s by your leave and constant verbal assaults.

It would’ve been kinder to send her to a nunnery.

She thought about her visit to Lexi earlier that day.

“What choice do you have Izzy, you have to marry Ernest, you’d lose your sanity if your mother takes over complete control of your life.”

“If I’m gonna consider giving up my life, there’s one last thing I want to do and you’re going with me.”

Lexi sat up, “One last prank?”

Changing into the god awful orange servants dress she had wriggled from Lexi, Izzy ran down the servants staircase and out their entrance at the back of the house and hailed a hack to take her to Lexi’s and then the music hall.

Izzy walked hurriedly along the quiet streets after the variety shows had let out. She had been unable to find another hack after Lexi left for home so she was forced to start walking. It wasn’t the safest thing for anyone to do at night, especially an unaccompanied woman.

She was almost to the back gate of the grounds when she was grabbed by a man hiding in the shadows.

~~~

Sam Winchester pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, not actually cold from the night air turning chilly but disconsolate; it was his periodic companion. This last eighteen months all he had produced was portraits of London’s elite citizens, nothing inspiring him to create anything original, which gave him his fame in the first place.

He had decided to walk for a bit after leaving the Duke of Monmouth’s having repaired the loose corner of the frame around the portrait of said man. He liked the Duke, he possessed a sarcastic humor and  was personable.

For a Tory.

Sam was halfway along the high wall surrounding the vast estate when he heard a rough voice hissing in the shadows, “Stop struggling bitch or I’ll give it to you far worse.”

He ran to the end of the wall remembering there was an alleyway leading to a back entrance. Pausing at the opening he was thankful a gas light was nearby illuminating a burly man struggling to hang onto a woman in a hideous orange dress who was putting up one hell of a fight to get away.

“Hey, let her go!” Sam shouted, rushing towards them.

“Fuck off, this ones mine!” He yelled, shoving her to the ground.

Sam swung his large fist smashing into the stranger’s face. He grabbed his bloody nose for a monument and then threw a surprise right hook making contact with Sam’s left temple briefly stunning him and making his getaway.

“Bastard,” Sam spit out, rubbing his head knowing he’d probably have a headache later. He turned to the woman on the ground. She had drawn her legs up, arms wrapped around her legs shaking.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped towards her causing her to start crawling backwards away from him till she bumped into the wall.

Sam squatted down in front of her, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture and spoke softly to her, “ I’m not gonna hurt you Miss, I want to make sure you’re not hurt, can you nod if you understand me.”

She nodded once, finally looking up from the ground at him.

Sam’s breath caught.

Even under the dim gas light he could make out her unique features and felt that particular skittering under his skin urging him to grab a brush and create like he hadn’t in a very long time.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” standing up he holds out his right hand to her.

“Is..Izzy Morgan.” She replies, taking his outstretched hand. A sensation rippled throughout her in a way she never had with any man, not even with Lord Greyson.

He was the only man Izzy had freely offered herself to and had rejected her in a not so polite manner, publicly gossiping about her attempted seduction of him. It was quickly quashed by her brothers paying him a brief visit.

Sam released her hand, staring intently as he lightly ran his long fingers along her jaw, tracing the contours of; her forehead, curved cheekbones, full lips and nondescript nose, fascinated with the freckles he could just make out in the dim, scattered on her soft skin.

If only it wasn’t so dark to make out the color of her eyes but that hair, absolutely wondrous! He dropped his hand and picked up the tendrils that had come loose running them between his fingers fascinated that it was silky, not wiry, with its kinkiness as he assumed.

She was plain and exquisite at the same time.

“I would love to paint you if you’ll allow me,” she scrunched her forehead confused, “could you ask your employer for time off?”

“You want to paint me, why?”

Sam dropped the hand still playing with her hair and pulled from his coat pocket his card to show he was serious.

“I will pay you generously for your time. If you like I can speak..”

“No! I’m sorry but it’s impossible,” Izzy hurried to the gate and opened it, “thank you for helping me, I am grateful..”

“Then repay it by posing for me.” Sam deepens his whiskey-honeyed voice and watches as she shivered, reacting to it as he hoped.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

~~~

Izzy awoke late the next morning exhausted from her previous night’s adventures. She shuddered feeling the bruises acquired during the struggle with her would be rapist.

The door to her bedroom opened and a younger woman she didn’t recognize entered carrying a tray of tea and a light breakfast.

“Good morning my lady, I wasn’t sure what you would like so I bought a few things. Please let me know what you prefer.”

“Who are you and where is Katie?”

“I’m Margaret, your mother engaged me to be your ladies maid. I was informed that Katie decided to leave and be with her sister in Brighton, my lady.”

“Please take the tray, I only have tea in the mornings and pull out my dark brown riding habit. I’ll dress myself today and will be gone till dinner, thank you.” Isobella instructed, heading into her bath and waited for the maid to leave. After she departed Izzy threw on her outfit and hurried to the stable, saddling the first horse there and took off to Lexi’s for a confab about what to do next.

January 19

Her fingers shook nervously as she buttoned up the servants dress she had borrowed from Lexi again. From the trunk she pulled out the big overcoat and long scarf that used to belong to Phillip, her oldest brother. He had given them to her years ago when the family was in Scotland and hers had proven inadequate for riding in the climate there. Opening a small drawer she removed her old, worn riding gloves and slipped them on. She closed the trunk and locked it.

Making her way up the exterior stairs to the street Isobella locked the door leading to the cellar of Lexi’s home and walked to the hired hack waiting for her, instructing the driver to her final destination.

As the carriage travels over the cobblestone streets Isobella goes over the plan one more time to make sure nothing was missed.

Lexi had suggested she should come with her to Wales while her husband sorted out the details from his father’s sudden passing making him the new Lord of Whitmore. That sparked an idea in Izzy’s mind and they set about laying out the details to pull it off.

Isobella knew her parents, or rather her father, wouldn’t object to her traveling with her best friend to give her some time to consider Ernest’s proposal; with a slight hint that she was inclined to accept upon returning.

What none of them knew was she had her own plan in place and it was to be the scandal of the decade.

The hack dropped her off at the end of the quiet street and she walked briskly towards the address on the card.

~~~

Sam came downstairs in no better mood than he had been when his butler Crowley had awoken him late in the afternoon. At least he was dressed. Well, as dressed as he was willing to get in a clean shirt, trousers and no shoes. He had an odd exchange with the new boy Crowley had engaged to help since he was, according to Crowley, seriously understaffed with the size of his household. Sam laughed considering it was only him, Crowley, Mrs. Mills the cook and a maid.

The new boy had scurried off the fetch more coal as the door knocker sounded. Sam opened it and was stunned to see who was standing there.

“Are you still interested in painting me?”

tbc

If your interested in a tag shoot me an ask

tagging: @atc74 @alleiradayne

[truthhurtsforreal]

I’d like to share a story. One that started over a year ago when I joined a role play community called the “definitely community”. I thought, this is going to be fun. I picked a character that was available and joined in. I even got invited to join a discord server because that’s where everyone “hung out”. I had just missed the wedding of Gamora and Peter which I’m glad because I was told there was some drama and someone was “blocked” and out cast from the rp community. Funny thing is, I knew that person and got their side of the story. That person’s treatment was unnecessary, but they were blocked and out cast. Sound familiar? It should because it happens all the time.

The drama didn’t affect me directly so I didn’t pass judgement as NO ONE NOT DIRECTLY INVOLVED SHOULD, but I watched as other people bashed that person, people who didn’t even interact with them joined in on blacklisting them from the community, HATE TALK RUNNING WILD. Why? Because people were easily manipulated into believing that person did wrong. Again, I ask, sound familiar? Yes, I think you’re starting to get it now.

So I continued on. I had a role play partner, stayed in the server, watched as people were left out and drama after drama circulated. Let me tell you how fun that’s not, but at the heart of every single drama was one blog in particular. One mod. Want to venture a guess? I’ll tell you. This person has several blogs. Some you all interact with. One they try to keep super secret. Since I’m letting it all out, I’ll tell you. The blog and mod behind all the drama and manipulation. @definitelybuckybarnes . Aka @definitelylancetucker Aka, @stuck-y-together Aka, @definitelydaytina . Your beloved Christina. Tina. Whatever she goes by these days. Yes, she is all those blogs and more. The master manipulator of blogs and characters.I was told you say people are jealous because you got Bucky first. No one is jealous. You just treat people like shit and accuse them of god knows whatever fits to gain attention. That’s why people don’t like you.

Why am I spilling the tea? Because I’ve watched this happen time after time. Every drama that happens, she’s at the center. Even now, I encouraged someone that joined the community months ago and they’ve been cast out. Why? I’m sure you were told lies and manipulated. Did you get proof? I’m willing to bet it was all he said she said, but it worked cause you bought it. I know, because I’ve seen it. You’re all sheep and if you don’t agree with Bucky/daytina/Tina, you too will be shunned and blocked.

I saw the post for the New Years party. Does anyone else find that a little fucked up? You can only come via invite and all plus ones have to be approved. Excuse me, but that sounds like a dictatorship. Conform or you won’t be accepted. Again, manipulative and also bullying. Something they swear they don’t do, but they have and are currently doing it still because all you sheep are following her lead and giving her audience. Some things never change.

Have you ever wondered why there are so many abandoned blogs, my own included? Because we were all treated like shit. We didn’t conform. We were made to feel like we didn’t matter if we had a difference in opinion. Some of us even went and created a new community. Is it any better? I don’t know because I have given up role playing because of how I continually see people treated, myself included. I no longer wanted to be part of the toxic behavior that fuels this community, any community, but if I’m going down, I’m taking Bucky/Tina with me! I’ve sat back and watched silently. I follow many of you. I’ve had more than one person come to me about your toxic behavior. It’s funny how the people you’ve cast out or banned have found their way to my inbox. Enough is enough, already!

Your lies and manipulation and dictatorship need to come to an end. You are treating people like shit for what? Because someone doesn’t want to be told what to do? You’re not a god! Quit acting like one. You don’t own or run the community, yet you behave like you do. There are good people behind the blogs that you’ve cast out, they’re just free thinkers and aren’t easily manipulated. Those people you’ve hurt, they’ll recover and carry on. You’ll still be the vile person you’ve been because you’re a spoiled entitled brat that cries if she doesn’t get her way. When will you seriously grow up already? There’s your tea people.

Go ahead, block me. This has no effect on how I’ll sleep at night. This is an old blog I no longer use and it’s sole purpose is exposing the lies and manipulation you’ve all come to believe. My own definitely blog lays dormant and has for a long time. Good luck figuring out which one it is. I’m not accepting asks or messages. Once this is posted I’m logging out. You all need to figure out what to do. Continue to follow the lies and manipulation or start thinking for yourself. I guarantee this will happen again and keep happening because it always does. You’re either part of the problem or solution and I don’t see anyone being the voice of reason and knocking someone from their high horse, that would require you to stand up to the monstrosity.

I’m tagging all definitely blogs old and new. Also throwing some of the without a doubt blogs in as well. They’ll be happy to know someone finally called you out on your shit! And kudos to those who haven’t chosen sides. At least there’s hope that some of you can’t be controlled.

There was something someone told me once and it rings true. Food for thought maybe. “Becareful of the company you keep. How they talk about someone else is exactly how they talk about you.” Keep that in mind, sheep. “We change people through conversation, not through censorship.” Maybe some of you should brush up on your pop culture and listen to the words of Jay-Z.

@definitelybakermeggi @definitelybabyyoda @definitelyben @definitelybee @definitelyclintbarton @definitelychasecollins @definitelychase @definitelychristopherbeck @definitelyclayappuzzo @definitelycurtiseverett @definitelydaytonwhite @definitelydaytina @definitelyeddiebrock @definitelyeddiebrockandvenom @definitelyellyn @definitelyemnoir @definitely-frank @definitelyfenrir @definitelygoose @definitelyhalcarter @definitelyjarvis @definitelyjackbenjamin @definitelyjamesbarnes @definitelyjefferson @definitelylancetucker @definitelylittleshit-thegoat @definitelycaptainhook @definitelylexi​ @definitelyleowest @definitelylydia @definitely-lynn @definitelymera @definitelymax @definitelynatromanova @definitelynatasha-romanoff @definitelynatromanova @definitelynebula @definitelypeggycarter @definitelypeterquill @definitelypenelopebeck @definitelypepperpotts @definitelyransom @definitelyrogue @definitelystevengrantrogers @definitelysebastianstan @definitelysamwinchester @definitelyselena

[lizzybeth1986]

Quick Thoughts on TRH Book 1 Chapter 4

• Hello guys! I’m trying to finish this early because I’m shifting house (not too far from where I’m already living, and closer to kiddo’s nursery! 😁). Fingers crossed I can finish it prior to us shifting.

• Before I begin, I feel I must apologize for neglecting to place a trigger warning for discussing infertility, considering I posted screenshots of Hana’s scene referencing that last chapter and spoke at length about it. The people who have discussed it on my posts have been unfailingly kind and sensitive in their approach to speaking about it, and I failed to display the same sensitivity. I will make sure I don’t repeat that mistake in the future.

Content Warning: The end of this QT will feature a discussion on last week’s Hana scene in the doctor’s office, so TW for discussions on infertility.

• Screenshot Credits:

@pixieferry for Hana + the Abhirio YouTube channel

@thefirstcourtesan + the BizzysChoices YouTube channel for Drake

@boneandfur + Abhirio YouTube channel for Maxwell

• I’m also halfway through a QT for Book 1 Chapter 5. Thought I’d revisit the original series while I was at it. What do you guys think?? If you’re interested do mention if you want to be tagged! You can check out my QTs for the first four chapters from my Masterlist, linked on my bio 😀

• Short chapter, this. I’m pretty sure all the deep digging into history etc will happen idk in Texas. Coz Texas is where Drake’s maternal home is and this entire series - TRR Book 2 onwards - has just been a massive Drake’s-ass-kissing exercise for the writers, let’s be honest. But at least right now, we will get a feel of what the rivals who want to corner us into an alliance look like, sound like, and want.

• Title: Courting Crowns

Does this chapter alone need an alternative title? Does it really?? You might as well rename the entire series no, since just one LI seems to matter. Call it The Grumpy Commoner’s Pub Trail instead (@callmetippytumbles came up with this phrase in an ask on Lily Spencer once).

• I know I sound bitter but how else do you expect me to sound when the writers are THIS blatant about their favouritism. And tbh they’ve been doing that Book 2 onwards.

• So the chapter begins where we left off - the MC meets up with all the LIs in the solarium. They confirm that the people responsible were the paparazzi, and the angle they’re trying to spin is that the Queen of Cordonia/Duchess of Valtoria is an irresponsible woman who is somehow magically pregnant (even in a Hana playthrough!) AND being careless. Thank you Cordonian paps, I’m sure you know my body better than I do.

• Madeleine speaks of doing “damage control” while Bertrand “gallavants away” to Texas as if we were never busy doing damage control for her during the Unity Tour.

• LMAO @ all the responses to “I’ll show them how serious I am about producing an heir”. Especially the Maxwell MC 😅

(Screenshots: @pixieferry for Hana, @boneandfur for Maxwell and BizzysChoices YouTube channel for Drake)

• Liam we know that shy retiring gentleman act is the biggest sham there is. I’ve read your diamond scene.

• Alright so now we prep for the Ball. MC will oversee party arrangements, Drake will check with Mara on security, Hana will help with decor, and Maxwell will make sure there is plenty of bubblyyyy, wiggly letters and all. No idea what Liam is doing. Mysterious King things, I suppose.

• It’s now the night of the Ball and Hana (thank God) is helping us get ready, having already gotten ready herself first. What’s interesting (and not in a good way) is WHAT she’s wearing:

To your left is a screenshot from my playthrough, where Hana is wearing her beloved handmade traditional outfit. To your right is a screenshot from a playthrough @thefirstcourtesan did, in which Hana wears the understated LBD she wore for the MC’s bachelorette in Vegas (whether she was the bride or not). The interesting bit is that I bought the scene where Hana got her outfit back, and @thefirstcourtesan didn’t do it for that particular playthrough.

What’s more, is that I noticed in the previous book…that while the outfit on the left was an option during her wedding, it definitely wasn’t an option for the final ball in Book 3 if you didn’t pay to secretly take it from Lorelei - Hana pretty much chooses her costume gala flower gown in that case.

Are you telling me that if I don’t buy to get her own handmade outfit back, you’ve basically taken it out of her hands???

I’ll get into why this could actually be so messed up later.

• Even if Hana doesn’t have this particular outfit, why does she have to go for something so toned-down?? This is something she last wore (by default) to a bachelorette party! Why couldn’t they choose to put her in her Costume Gala gown instead? That would have worked for such a huge formal ball. At the very least it would have worked better than her LBD.

•

Not gonna lie, this annoyed me a fair bit. One, could it really have been that hard to do some of the work for this, MC? Like I said in my previous QT, the MC still doesn’t seem to take much effort to read up or ask questions about what’s going on, however powerful a figure she is. Two, I am done, done, with how much work Hana has to be doing on the MC’s behalf without getting much credit in return. She’s been doing this since Book 1. In the first two books I could somewhat understand - the MC was new, she had no idea where to begin looking, Bertrand and Maxwell weren’t exactly the most efficient support system to integrating into Cordonian society, everything was unfamiliar. That’s now not the case. She is a powerful, influential figure who has all the resources possible to understand the situation if she really wanted to. But she is still waiting on people to spoonfeed the information to her, and a friend like Hana tends to get very, very little in return.

• When I first saw this scene on my Liam playthrough, I was wondering how the Hana equivalent would look. I mean, she was dealt with a pretty heavy emotional blow the previous day. Would it still weigh on her? Would the MC check in to find out how she was doing?

Nothing of the sort happened. It was the same scene, except perhaps for a reference to Hana being a duchess. So I thought, well, maybe since it’s a heavy conversation, they’ll probably integrate it into the diamond scene, right? After all, I’d just seen a Drake scene that dealt with his reasons for agreeing to Liam’s request. Surely Hana would be given a similar courtesy?

• Okay so Hana’s research yields these results regarding our guests:

- King Bradshaw and Queen Isabella of Auvernal: Bradshaw is the kind who likes to get his way, apparently, and Isabella likes people with a sense of humour.

- Queen Amalas of Monterisso: is mysterious. That is all.

- Other Leaders: from distant countries, basically just coming to the part to have a good time.

• I think this is interesting in terms of the sheer variety of people we’re needing to handle in one party alone. All of them with different personalities, aims and agendas. Unlike Cordonia, which operates on particular codes of conduct that we are now used to, we have to pick up the subtle cues Hana gives us to figure out what works for which royal. We’re definitely being kept on our toes this chapter, and I like when that happens.

•

Ooo blingy. Very nice. Green and gold is an amazing combination, the applique on the gown is beautiful, the illusion neckline is nice, and I like seeing small pearls weaved into such a fancy outfit! Honestly we should have had something similar to this in Fydelia last book, rather than being expected to waltz in that green minidress. The only downer is that Hana’s free outfit COULD have been just as opulent but they opted to dress her down instead. And that’s not the first time they force her to dress down for occasions where she could dress like a star.

• The guys are dressed up for the occasion too. Liam in his official outfit with the medals and sash, Drake in his grey suit, Maxwell in his formal black suit sans tie. Only if you’re with Hana, do you not see your LI in their full regalia at the stairs (since we already took a good look at her at the boutique). Whichever LI you are married to (if male), you will greet at the stairs, entering the hall with them.

• Following your entry, you and your LI split up to meet and talk to your guests separately. There’s not a lot we see of our LIs’ interactions, as this chapter is mostly focussed on the MC’s first impression of these royals.

•

So you have three characters established as the most powerful (Bradshaw and Isabella, and Amalas. I recognize the sprite for Amalas as being similar-ish to Vasquez’s girlfriend in The Senior, but with different hair and styling. I read somewhere that Bradshaw’s sprite is also from another character in another series?), one character that’s there as a nod to another series (Princess Marguerite from The Heist: Monaco, who I like to believe is living her best life and happily romancing Miranda), and the other ‘distant kingdom’ characters for which they used sprites from other books (Erin from HSS, Khaan from PM, and Scarlett from VoS).

• Rather than going chronologically, I’m going to first go from the royals that were added more for extra flavour and a party atmosphere, to the royals the narrative actually focuses on:

- King Eirik: Very easily to please. Just remember the guy’s name. I’m not exactly sure he’s used to that (or Khaan Mousavi is on the run from Eros again and wants to make sure the MC won’t suss out who he really is).

- Lerato and Lesidi: So you can choose to please either sister, because each of them have different opinions on what matters. (I’m guessing Scarlett decided to give her brother in Washington some tough competition. “You’re contesting for a Senate seat? Well sucks to be you because I’m going make myself a goddamn princess!!” At the very least I know she upgraded from Tanner). Lerato can’t stand Constantine (like normal people), and is appreciative of efforts that better the lives of Cordonians. Lesidi is younger (you’re supposed to be in school Erin!!) and really just loves a good party. So as long as you move away from the chest-beating “Cordonia’s strength” response, and opt for either a noble cause or just plain good fun, your royal reputation will be fine.

(Honestly the least PB can do is replace Scarlett’s S necklace with something else if she’s just going to be a convenient sprite. Or give all her doppelgangers S names, idk).

- Marguerite: She is an out-and-out romantic and that’s definitely the vibe they’re going for here. She’s also amazing and sweet with the MC, unconditionally offering friendship and advice. You don’t get reputation points with her since she’s lovely to you anyway, but you do get to ask her what her opinion is on either Bradshaw and Isabella, you and your LI as a couple, or the other royals. The answer to the first question seems the most important, hinting at a future role perhaps. She warns us to be careful around them.

- Bradshaw and Isabella: The approach for these two is interesting. I hated the characters (esp Bradshaw, which I’m sure was what the narrative wants me to be doing) and their acting like I’m PANTING to marry off my unborn child to one of their twins - but the overall scene with them I found interesting. Bradshaw seems to operate on extremes - either you grovel in front of him or you aggressively push back, he likes both approaches. He doesn’t seem to have an appreciation for diplomacy and would you fight with him rather than give him a neutral response. Isabella likes seeing a sense of humour in people, and seems to enjoy it if you tell her that “when no one’s trying to kill me, this place isn’t so bad”. In any case, the only way to keep up with both is to take turns choosing answers that will interest them. I found the guessing quite challenging and fun, not so much the insinuations that I would arrange my child’s marriage before they’re even conceived.

- Amalas: Perhaps the most intriguing, and that’s probably on purpose. They’re clearly highlighting her as the underdog in this court, the mysterious Queen no one knows about (although the Black Widow reference does hint at her at least being suspected of killing her husband? Since the female black widow spider is famous for eating the male after mating). She makes a persuasive case about how Monterisso and Cordonia are “cut from the same cloth”, are both small (how many climates and landscapes does Monterisso have) countries with amazing wealth, that Auvernal wants to push into an unequal alliance with the promise of their military prowess. Amalas’ suggestion is to join hands so they can find strength together and push back against the kind of intimidation Bradshaw is showing them.

• Queen Eleanor was from Auvernal? So Liam is half-Cordonian and half-Auvernese? That must be interesting. I wonder if we will possibly see more about these foreign relations during Constantine’s time and what it must have been like. Also why do I hear practically nothing about Constantine from this exchange? They mention Eleanor, but refer to only her - especially when they’re talking about her hospitality and treating them with respect. There’s nothing much to make out of it yet (though you have at least one other person openly expressing a negative view of him), but it’s an interesting point to note nonetheless.

• QUEEN ESTHER NOW HAS A NEW CORGI!!! Since the first was named Joy, I thought I’d name the lady corgi Hope xD

• I know the narrative is writing Amalas as this mysterious, seductive figure (it’s working on me, okay! 🙈) the underdog and the cool person that everyone wants to know and be friends with - but all said and done, she advocates these bizarre ideas to make kids have betrothals on their cribs too. She’s just a little more persuasive and a little less heavy-handed about it. So I have my doubts still.

• It’s also kind of interesting that there is no specified sex given for Amalas’ child? Is customization possible for both her child and ours?

•

(Screenshots: Abhirio’s YouTube channel for Hana and Maxwell, BizzysChoices YouTube channel for Drake)

Aww @ all the LIs’ reactions to the new corgi!

• So…the MC comes out of these interactions with multiple nobles and royals either exhausted, frustrated or worried, and the LI comforts her in whatever way they can, reassuring her that things will go well. She can either feel majorly annoyed about having to deal with so much royalty, be weirded out by the kind of attention the baby she hasn’t even (possibly) conceived yet is getting, or she’s afraid the alliances won’t happen. Either way, the LI is there to help her, and suggests they sneak out and spend a little time together before dealing with the guests again.

• The basic format for this scene is very, very similar for three LIs: Liam, Hana and Maxwell. The MC agrees to sneak out, the LI takes her to the bedroom (or in Liam’s case, they have an tiny extra scene where Princess Marguerite is passing them while they’re making out in the corridor). They begin a fun, sexy game of their choosing, which the MC enjoys and which eventually leads to them sleeping together. This is followed by a short conversation after which the LI and MC go back to the hall.

This is the breakdown for each LI:

- Liam: After almost being caught red-handed making out in the corridor by Princess Marguerite, Liam and his wife make it to the bedroom. Liam plays Twenty Questions with her, quizzing her on details about the rulers she met. For each answer she gets right, he gives her a kiss (well…he kisses her even otherwise because she is impossible to resist). Once they’ve slept together, the couple then briefly discuss both their honeymoon period and then the decision they will need to make regarding alliances. The last bit is spoken about in an extremely vague manner.

- Maxwell: Immediately after the MC accepts, the two enter their bedroom and begin to do a little roleplay. Maxwell pretends he came into the bar where the MC worked alone, and that she isn’t a waitress (the player gets to choose her role: a spy, a museum curator or a jewel thief). Once they’ve slept together, they chat a little before going back to the guests, and one of the things the MC can opt to mention is that Maxwell “will be a great dad” even if he’s a fun uncle type. Oh, like that conversation Maxwell and his MC never got to have back on their honeymoon? 🤔

- Hana: Immediately after the MC accepts, the two enter their bedroom and do what the MC calls “an ice-cream strip game”. Either one has to taste an ice cream and correctly guess the flavour, and if they don’t get it right, they have to shed an item of their clothing. This includes fun flavours like bubblegum, rum-and-raisin and lemon sorbet. Hana then heats things up by running a little ice cream down the MC’s neck instead of letting her taste. Once they’ve slept together, the couple chat for a bit, after which the MC thanks Hana for everything she’s been doing for her. Hana is sweet and humble and the MC can optionally tell her how incredible she is but somehow the events of the previous day never come up (again, more on this later).

(Screenshots: @pixieferry for Hana and @boneandfur for Maxwell)

• HOWEVER, not only is the format of Drake’s diamond scene different, but so is the location! Drake’s diamond scene begins with the couple wanting a moment alone - the MC even takes a bottle along and there is some light hearted teasing about how he isn’t the only person in the relationship who drinks. This is followed by a four minute long makeout scene somewhere in the foyer (to give you an idea of how much time that took - Liam’s corresponding makeout scene lasts barely a minute), and the MC - to get them real privacy - takes him to that HUGE kinda dilapidated area that we once took Hana to, in Book 3…presumably to ravish each other and then watch the sunset. Which is exactly what they do.

Shortly after this, Drake and the MC enjoy the sight of the sun setting, and then discuss their future and one important aspect of Drake’s past - his changing attitudes towards nobility. The MC at this point gets to ASK him why he agreed to Liam’s proposal. He has this to say:

(Screenshot from @thefirstcourtesan)

I mean…that moment wasn’t exactly OOC only for Drake. Hana and Maxwell pretty much would have had the same questions too, but there hardly are even given the space to ask those questions. Yet somehow the team had the time and the energy to delve into just one character?

Drake gets to expand on what seeing Savannah’s family makes him feel. Drake gets to speak about his loyalty to his friend and his changing attitude to the nobility. He is lauded by the public and the press for doing and saying the bare minimum. And now, he gets an LI scene that allows him to speak at length, while the other LIs are restricted to maybe a few lines.

• I really do feel conflicted about Drake’s big scene about his loyalty to his best friend,and his issues about nobility, happening in an undercroft where Hana was once supposed to have her own big scene about family and selfhood, last book - one that we never got. Because the writers didn’t care enough.

• We now return to the Ball, and after mingling for a while, the MC gets to see what almost everyone else is doing.

King Bradshaw is bemused by Maxwell’s love for dance offs and desire to be a court jester (I know Brad but that’s basically what the writers reduced him to).

Kiara LOVES Queen Amalas’ pantsuit because it is “elegant, yet bold” and a pleased Amalas tells Kiara she should try wearing one (I’d love to see how that looks honestly 😃).

Marguerite is talking to Drake and Hana. Drake isn’t very happy that someone besides him is monopolizing this conversation and Hana is LOVING IT (same, sis, saaaaame).

•

@ Drake: This is literally your life now. You knew you would have to deal with a press meet last chapter and you knew there would be a goddamned ball where you’d have to do networking this chapter. Be prepared from now on and stop complaining, Jesus.

@ Hana: I love it when Hana trolls people, and I feel it she doesn’t get to do it often enough. Remember her impressions of Drake in Fydelia during Unity Tour. They should let her do one for everyone in the group. Please let Hana troll people more. Let her troll all of Cordonia!!

• The night winds down, and we get to see who we have impressed and who we haven’t. As I’ve mentioned earlier, Isabella’s attitude towards you hinges on your sense of humour, Bradshaw on your ability to push back and fight for what you want. Amalas on your uniqueness and that je ne sais quoi feel that seems to set you apart from the others. The other royals on different aspects: either your ambition and desire to serve the people, or the ability to let loose and have a good time! We get to know all of this on their way to the door.

• I’m glad Olivia didn’t show up here. Can you imagine just how mad she’d get if she heard all this nonsense about having marriage alliances done before these children were even born?? She’d suffered in a situation very much like that, and I think she’d be damned to let what happened to her happen to another kid. You’d need to hold her back from using an axe against these people.

• Whatever the outcome is, the MC expresses her worries to the LI, the LI comforts her and then suggests they make a road trip to America since Savannah and Bertrand are getting married there (another trip…seriously??? Please for the love of God just stay in the country/duchy and properly RULE it for once!!).

• Next set of chapters is clearly going to be taken over by the Walker family, and we’ll talk and hear about nothing else for the next couple of weeks.

General Thoughts:

• …why is no one asking where the paparazzi came from? Our paps? Their paps? Which magazine was it. Why are you so intent on making your characters look so stupid PB. They’re so stupid. My head hurts.

• Why are they saying I was in a hot tub I never saw a hot tub in that villa.

• I know some questions should be unanswered for future plot…but…you don’t think a SINGLE person would be wondering who sent them in the first place? Considering the last time photos of us were taken without our consent it was pretty much from someone who had an agenda?

• So…over the weekend I tried to do a fail playthrough of my own for Book 1 (I was dying guys I was dying. So much secondhand embarrassment. How did I survive that 😭). And since I was doing this so soon after I finished this chapter, I kinda ended up making parallels between Queen Regina’s first meeting with the suitors in Chapter 5 there, and how especially the Bradshaw/Isabella/Amalas meetings went here.

I remember distinctively that displaying a “sense of humour” was actively discouraged (Regina even says “fools use laughter to cover up their own ignorance” in the same tea party), and how highly qualities like stoicism and diplomacy are held in esteem. Bradshaw and Isabella are the antithesis to that (Bradshaw also shows slight similarities with Regina in terms of liking a challenge. During the croquet game in Book 1, Regina makes it clear that she “detests those who don’t have the stomach to stand up to me”. Bradshaw, too, seems to have more respect for an MC who stands up to him…but in perhaps a more patronizing way)

Interestingly, if the press has labelled you “Mystery Woman” in Book 1, Regina points out that “no one can remain a mystery long when they’re a public servant and must attend to the people”. Yet it is almost impossible for Hana - whose research skills are clearly on another level - to find any information about Queen Amalas.

• Tbh I kinda love that shift. By branching out and navigating through the landscape not just in but around Cordonia, the MC gets a broader view of what politics is like around this area. She gets to read the other person’s cues and behaviour, compare it with the information she has been given, and make an informed decision on what would work right with them. I hated the overall presumptuousness from the main players, but I definitely enjoyed the dynamics.

• I wonder if we will see Regina again at some point! I'm doing my Book 1 playthrough and she's kinda growing on me this time.

• The diamond scene was good on its own…until I started checking the other routes. And that’s been the case more and more often with TRR. You start out thinking “great, a nice love scene with teasing and seduction and your LI showing you just how good they are in bed, with some tender moments afterwards”. Then you look at other playthroughs and realize (if you’re a Liam stan) that their scenes were shorter and there was less to talk about. THEN you look at a playthrough like Drake’s…and find a completely different backdrop, a completely different format and an issue that his fans were complaining about being addressed. In detail. I’m a Liam stan, there is at least a little more I know I’m going to get (besides my LI being happy and not making stupid decisions in a playthrough where he is single). Hana and Maxwell get practically nothing, the writers aren’t even pretending to scrape the bottom of the barrel to give them content.

• If they’d really bothered to even this out, they could have used the end of these scenes to answer important questions. Liam could maybe tell us exactly what his experience of dealing with these kings and queens have been like, since he has had more experience with them in terms of diplomatic relations. He could speak about how it feels to have these sort of powerful, invasive figures make constant demands on him, and how that would weigh on him. After all these are the kinds of people he might have had to work with ever since Leo abdicated. Or what about Maxwell? In the livestream the writers claimed that he “grew into fatherhood”…How? Where? Why was this journey not worth showing? This diamond scene could have focused on what his turning point into that growth was, especially since Drake got that space to talk about it.

• I got two very, very bitter reminders of that horrid scene they gave Hana in Book 3 Chapter 15, in this chapter itself. One was - as I told you - the fact that if you didn’t buy this scene (that wasn’t even worth TWO diamonds, much less the 15 you could spend on it), her handmade outfit disappears after the wedding. She doesn’t have it as an option for the ball in the finale, she can’t wear it this chapter and is instead made to dress herself in a very muted style (which honestly kind of reminds me of how she was constantly treated like the “wedding planner” or “bridesmaid” rather than the bride, at her own damn wedding).

I assumed, this entire time, that even if you didn’t get the outfit in Book 3…the improved relationship with Lorelei shortly after would mean she’d get her dress back (since the reason she had to take away Hana’s clothes from her didn’t even exist anymore). Why would a Hana who HAS this outfit (at least up until the wedding) be coded as no longer owning it or considering to wear it if you didn’t buy that scene? I see no reason why it would be around and she’d not want to wear it. Her love for that outfit wouldn’t lessen just because she wasn’t running all around Valtoria to retrieve it.

So what should I assume? That Hana and her parents maybe made peace with each other but Lorelei still took her most precious item of clothing anyway? And now Hana doesn’t even get to wear it now for special occasions to represent her other home? She has to opt for an outfit she wore for a bachelorette while her wife/friend is (optionally) dressed to the nines? Just so you can stroke your ego about how this shitty diamond scene from the last book will now be of some use?

I mean…just the fact that getting back together with her parents but not getting stuff that is HERS back…I don’t even know what to say.

• TW: I speak about Hana’s scene with the doctor from last chapter again here.

• The other reminder of what a trainwreck that scene was, was definitely Drake’s diamond scene, which takes place in the same secret spot. If you didn’t buy the scene, then this was a place the MC just discovered, and if you did, she mentions seeing this place with Hana. I recall, while buying this scene, waiting and waiting for Hana to say more about that grandmother who made her dress with her, or about how her views on her parents have changed…or literally anything. But nothing much actually happened rather than a very shallow conversation and a kiss if you were her fiancée. Now in the same spot, I see Drake get a special scene with special dialogues exploring facets of his journey (and by now I’ve completely lost count of the number of times I’ve seen this happen). In the meantime, Hana gets a scene where her MC does the barest minimum - saying ‘thank you’ for all the preparations Hana’s been making the last few days. Which brings me to my next point.

• You can’t expect me to believe that two women who love each other, and who are supposed to have supported each other through difficult situations (this is true for Hana, and for the MC on the few occasions the story allowed her to)…would simply return to normal? After receiving the kind of news Hana got in the previous chapter??? That the woman going through this painful experience wouldn’t struggle with it? That her partner would not bother to check on her? (and at no point does the MC do so in this chapter). One could always argue that perhaps they could leave such a discussion for future chapters…but, as I said in detail the previous QT, the writing team has had a track record of choosing to never address very serious issues related to Hana’s own story, to the point where they were on the verge of encouraging a possible romance with someone who harmed her in her single playthroughs. If they were able to make Drake’s scene so different, why couldn’t they do the same to Hana considering her own, self-confessed, emotional state last chapter in her playthrough? Instead in that particular scene, she thanks her for everything, even referencing the same doctor’s appointment where they got this news - and it sounds patronizing considering the fact that Hana’s pain is (again!!) seen as not important even to speak about. Why couldn’t the MC at least ask after her and see how she’s feeling, and comfort her in this scene?

And if that wasn’t going to happen - why force that situation on Hana at all??

• One thing we need to keep in mind is that even when one DOES NOT want children, being told that you don’t even have that choice, or option, can be painful and in many cases traumatizing as well. I had two incredible reblogs last chapter that spoke about this in detail, from people who experienced similar situations, and I feel that unless a writer is ready to commit to that storyline and route, unless they’re prepared to write it sensitively rather than brush it under the carpet, they should not place that character in that situation. This is extremely offensive given their track record.

• This is why, when they say bullshit like “oh we would have preferred to do separate books for each LI but ended up with no choice but one book” (I’m paraphrasing), I find it so hard to believe the team. No one was forcing them to create the issues for Hana that they did. Those were narrative choices they made…and when you make such choices it’s YOUR responsibility to resolve them properly, otherwise don’t go there! Don’t have Madeleine bully her - or Olivia still mock her after they’ve become friends - if you’re simply going to allow these white (let’s never forget this. The white women in this book get away with all kinds of bullshit) women to get away with it with little-to-no pushback from Hana herself. Don’t force her into an emotionally abusive parent-child relationship if your only resolution for that is they say sorry a couple times and still have the same toxic expectations of her. Don’t rob her of her choice to physically carry a child if in the next chapter you will force her to act like nothing happened. I doubt ANY of these writers would care enough to actually write separate routes/books for anyone other than the LI they’ve always been pandering to.

• Apparently 3 writers in the team claim they would date Hana. Mmhmm. Sure. I can so see that in the way you write her, team TRH, I can so see that.

• I…love some of the characters in this series, and they’re the reason I’m still sticking around and trying to make these write-ups. But I won’t lie that it is exhausting, and frustrating, to keep highlighting these issues and barely be heard - and if the series keeps this up…I might not be able tho sustain the energy to keep writing these. I hope that doesn’t happen…but it is a very real possibility and I think I should let you guys know in case things do go that way.

• Fingers crossed that doesn’t happen - but if it does, I’ll still be working on my Book 1 QTs (my failplay brought up some insights that I found interesting!) and there’s plenty of fanfic ideas that I’d love to get back into. Let’s see how things turn out!

[girlobsessed21]

The 100 6x03 review and predictions

Another magnificent episode. So far, season six has yet to disappoint. It gets more interesting and thought-provoking as we dig. It might just turn out to be my favorite so far.

“We’re from earth, we come in peace.” Clarke takes the lead as her natural proclivity kicks in, while Bellamy barks orders to everyone else on how to behave. This power duo, tried and tested, works. Bellamy and Clarke are like two elements with perfect binding properties that create a vigorous chemical.

We see a black toxin slurring through Murphy’s veins before Russel declares him dead. Bellamy’s face falls; he realizes he’s responsible. And because cockroaches can’t die, there’s a cure for being exposed to seaweed during the red sun. Now, we learn of a new danger that will surely come back into play.

A hideous snake has to be some sort of symbolism. I love all the Biblical references in this show. In season 5, Eden was destroyed forcing our heroes to leave earth. Genesis tells the story of the snake (Satan) causing Adam and Eve’s shun from the garden. Here, that “same snake” gives life. Oh hell no, is our beloved Murphy crossing the veil back to the dark side? My fear for this is strengthened by, “I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell.”

The allusion deepens with the episode’s name and Russel’s mention of the demon Gabriel believing he could walk on water. Gabriel was the angel that delivered the news of Jesus to mother Mary. Demon Gabriel - an oxymoron, so is cold sweat and only choice. Mmmm, I think our sanctum leader is the only evil spirit here. He is shady as hell (no pun intended).

The Blakes

So far, Echo has had no purpose but to end the war between the siblings. Bellamy’s furious and as much as I love Octavia, he has a good reason to be. In the previous episodes, we’ve seen the logic behind her decisions. I understand where she’s coming from, but her wicked side has to be tamed before she can be trusted completely.

There’s an aching need for Bellamy’s approval that comes to show, yet she cannot discard of Bloodreina. This becomes clear when Octavia ignores her brother’s pleas not to engage when they encounter the “outsiders”. I felt for both of them when Bellamy scorned her, but he did that for her own good as well as his people. Here we see “the heart and the head” clearly. No way the heart would have closed that door on his sister. When he tells her, “My sister died a long time ago.” I believe that was him begging her to return to him.

After the incident, Echo offers him some awkward comfort while he sheds a tear. Please, give this character something else to do besides being Bellamy’s lapdog. She used to be a spy, now she’s reverted to a loyal girlfriend with little identity.

Jordan and Delilah

I’m not usually interested in relationships that are sprung onto me within two seconds, but this one is unique. Jordan has never been off the ship and seeing a beautiful girl, whom he has heard no stories of, has his heart bouncing in all directions, obviously. There are chemistry and adoring looks and I’m all for it. That is until I realize Delilah is another name taken from the Old Testament.

Jordan is, in Gollum’s voice, my precious. I want to protect him at all cost. The innocence and purity he radiates is inspiring. At the age of twenty-six, he deserves some good old lovin’. But of course, the girl uses this to trick him into revealing secrets about his people.

Not too sure whether there’s a real connection between them or this was pure betrayal. She still wanted to be with him after the info was retrieved, guess we’ll find out. But that face, when she undresses and crawls on top of him, deserves to be framed.

The primes

I’ve had the suspicion of Clarke becoming a host for Josephine for some time now and this reveal enhanced that idea. So, the founders of the settlement were four families, considered royalty. Russel Lightbourne is still their leader - referring to the previous episode: “Sanctum is mine!” He will do whatever it takes to remain in power. 

A lot of people speculated that Josephine survived since she wrote the book, but I doubt it. Russel, in my opinion, developed some presence manifestation device, such as the flame, to transport their beings from one person to the next. Only those with nightblood of course, which led me to believe this is what the naming ceremony entails. The “chosen ones” are blessed with the spirits of their forefathers.

Russel’s daughter died six years ago, thus no host available for Josephine, making Clarke the perfect candidate. The way he looks at Clarke when he discovers she’s a nightblood revelas a novel’s worth of plans. She’ll co-operate to pledge her loyalty to her new home and protect Madi.

I’m all for this idea and cannot wait to explore the possibilities. Josephine captured my heart in one small flashback, I think she’s gonna be good for Clarke, maybe even help her with the Bellamy situation.

“Princess Clarke, perfect.” Yes, Murphy that is perfect. Here’s to hoping Bellamy calls her that again.

Or she’ll discover the evils of Sanctum through Josephine’s eyes. We’ve seen the love she had for Gabriel, perhaps the girl will show her that they are indeed the good guys.

“There are worse things in this world than eclipse induced psychosis, most of them are outside the shield.” I highly doubt that, I believe their inside. Madi refers to Clarke needing her help, meaning she’s currently in danger, in Sanctum.

Bellarke

When asked if Clarke’s the leader and Bellamy chimes in with, “She is. She can speak for us.” That needed loud applause. The parallel to 5x03, the trust in his co-leader, everything was perfect. And Russel, being no idiot, recognizes their bond immediately. 

Bellamy promises to bring Madi back and Clarke agrees. Their past differences have been pushed aside; she trusts him to take care of her child. The affinity with which they look at each other from afar proves their deep connection. 

The rest of the episode

Raven and Murphy's insults are getting old, can we please move on from this. Clarke, on the other hand, is amazing. Her adversity towards Murphy, reminding him he did bad things too, deserves a pat on the back. The refusal to bow before Russel earns her instant respect. She’s strong, fierce and vibrant and you’ve just got to love her. As well as Sanctum’s breathtaking landscapes, except for the clear atrocity it hides.

Our female lead’s first encounter with a dog was the cutest thing ever and then she descends the steps in a red dress. Clarke (or Eliza Taylor) is gorgeous and I’m willing to bet the blue one will ensure even more dropping jaws, hopefully Bellamy’s as well.

She handles the dinner with Russel with easy diplomacy, which she lacked when confronting Indra about the worms. Until she’s ambushed with her morally grey past. What does one say to this? Ultimately they decide the earthlings are dangerous based on stories they haven’t witnessed firsthand. I guess that’s reasonable.

Just a side note, I haven’t liked Abby for a long time, but her nurturing and pep talks are starting to change my mind. We’ll see how it goes.

On the dropship, we learn about the dark commander, whom we’ve already encountered in the trailer. I can’t place him in a box just yet, need some more information. Madi’s sarcasm towards Diyoza is delightful, seeing as Diyoza is the queen of quip. 

The Colonel’s skills and observations never cease to amaze. That knife throwing accuracy - wow! She is one of my favorite characters and I’ve bought a front-row seat to the Octavia/Diyoza partnership now that they’re both outcasts.

Gabriel’s children seem harmless, albeit weird. They want the old man to return and yell, “Get the prime, get the prime!” Now, I’m assuming they require a nightblood to bring Gabriel back; the reason why they abduct Delilah and Rose, but I can’t figure out the second moon’s function.

Luckily, Clarke takes action and saves Delilah but the outsiders run off with Rose. I wish I could say the rescue mission is the reason Russel is letting them stay, but I believe it’s her blood. He has his eye on her and if that requires salvation for her people, he’d gladly bestow them.

Term and conditions apply. No more of them, which includes Indra who is still in cryo. When will she make her appearance? I miss her. And what will happen to Diyoza’s baby?

To wrap up, I’ve seen a lot of people’s comments on Bellamy’s reluctance towards Echo’s hug at the end. I see him smiling at her? I’d love to hear your thoughts and theories.

[softgothsweetheart]

Colors {Chrysalis}

The rain and wind was harsh and unforgiving as she walked up a path.

What the hell is going on?

Paisley got to where the path ended when she realized she was standing under a lighthouse. But then Lee saw another female and walked slowly to her. There was a giant tornado from what she could see and as she looked around, there wasn’t much else to be seen aside from buildings being completely destroyed. A boat flew from the storm, hitting the lighthouse. Just as Paisley recognized her classmate, she heard the loud groan and they both looked up, the lighthouse was coming down. Paisley shoved her classmate out of harms way just as the lighthouse collapsed on her. As she woke up, she realized she wasn’t in the middle of any storm, she was in class.

Paisley calmed her heartbeat and sighed, deciding that she would have to listen to class. Maybe her uncle giving a lecture would calm her down. Ground her, give her some sense of up and down until she could make sense of the dream.

Was it really a dream if I don’t remember falling asleep?

Paisley watched her uncle Mark lecture the students on Diane Arbus and chiaroscuro, all about photography – something she loved a lot. He’d taught her the beauty of it when she was old enough to hold one and not damage it. Lee knew she was old enough to form her own opinions of people and she – at the young age of 14 – had decided her uncle wasn’t truly who or what he said he was. The night she figured that out, it was too late, her aunt didn’t seem to care either – if she even knew what he did. But Lee was almost positive aunt Prudence knew. Not much too later, the bell rang, and the students were dismissed, only Kate, Max, and queen bee Victoria were left. Kate’s head was down, like she was thinking too hard, like she was overthinking. Lee wanted to believe it wasn’t because of the Vortex club party she’d attended a few weeks back, but she knew that it was. She must’ve remembered bits and pieces; Nathan hadn’t expected her to act out so much whilst under the influence.

Then Paisley stood up and walked over to her uncle who immediately dropped Victoria. She scoffed and glared at the younger girl, “Excuse you Paisley.”

Mark seemed to glare at the tall blonde, a look she didn’t notice. But he intervened before his beloved niece got hurt.

“Excuse you, miss Chase. Paisley is the youngest student here and she is also my niece and assistant.” He turned to her and asked her what she needed.

“Oh—I need to know where to go.”

“Just head out to the diner if need be.” He shrugged; Lee nodded obeying. As she walked away, Max walked almost alongside her but stopped when Mark called her name. Lee continued out of the quiet classroom into the noisy hallway where her fellow classmates were. Kids older than her by at least three years on but were more rambunctious than a room filled with toddlers. She quickly walked the halls, toward the bathroom because the feeling of eyes watching her had suddenly become too much to bear. Paisley had recently begun to experience something abnormal.

It’d happened one day when she was cleaning a camera and elbowed it off the table. The loud crash was heard in the back rooms of the house and her uncle had come rushing out, yelling. When he was coming at her, she held her hands out as if it were going to stop him and everything went backwards until her vision faded and burned at the edges. When Paisley looked behind her, the camera was fully intact and back on the desk. She thought it’d been a trip, but she even threw a rock into the house through a window before rewinding time until before it happened, even throwing her aunt’s phone at her head. The feeling and power had grown stronger, she knew that much.

Paisley’s feet took her into the girls’ bathroom, she holed herself in the last stall, listening to music on her phone as she sat on the toilet. It was a soft song—one of the many Rachel Amber had told her she’d like and gave to her on a playlist. It was sad that she’d no longer see her friend except through the miserable posters she saw around campus. The song was so soft that over the music she heard the door open once more and whispers. For a few minutes, Lee breathed silently and had her music low to listen when the door had opened with a loud smack, some more talking and another thwack. Shadows moved outside, she hadn’t a clue if they knew she was here in hiding. So, she killed the music and removed her headphones.

When Paisley looked down in the stall and to her left, she could see her fellow classmate’s shoes—Max’s to be exact. They weren’t hard to recognize. There was an exchange happening between Nathan and some random girl.

“You’re wrong—that’s my family—not me.”

“Oh, boo hoo, poor little rich kid. I know you’ve been pumpin’ drugs and shit to kids around here… I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now.” If this girl knew about the parties and drugs—if Nathan told, then she would die. Especially if she knew who the real culprit behind this was.

“Leave them out of this, bitch.” Nate growled, he wasn’t in the best of moods and she was testing his patience. It was going to get bad no doubt.

Maybe he can reel himself in… C’mon Nate, do what I taught you.

“I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself—" Seems the unknown female cut her sentence short, gasping, her shoes scraping against the tiling as she fell back to the wall.

“You don’t know who the fuck I am or who you’re messing around with!” He shouted.

“Where’d you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!” She seemed to be begging, Paisley peeked through the cracks and couldn’t see a damn thing except for Nathan’s movements. He growled in rage and she had a frightening thought—

Maybe it’s the gun uncle Mark bought for him! Oh god, no.

“Don’t EVER tell me what to do. I’m so sick of people trying to control me!”

“You’re gonna get in hella more trouble for this than drugs.”

“Nobody would ever even miss your ‘punk ass’ would they?!”  

Is he going to shoot this girl? What would he do with the body? The gun?

“Get that gun away from me psycho!” A loud bang rang out, Max yelled, and Paisley saw her arm stretched out through the cracks before everything rewound. Lee was sat back in class, diagonal to Max who seemed to be alert. More than one time traveler sounded crazier than one did. Class went on, everything the exact same as before, except for Max elbowing her polaroid camera off the table and rewinding it until it was no longer broken. After Max played with her rewind, using Victoria’s answer against her and Mark’s quote against him when he asked her where her photo was, they both left the classroom. Lee pulled her aside where no one could overhear them.

“Stop rewinding, Max, seriously.”

“How did you—” The older female seemed panicked that she knew.

“I can time travel too. Stop using it on nonsense. It won’t work when you truly need it if you don’t.” Paisley didn’t expect Max to listen, but it would have been nice to. They re-entered the bathroom and followed what they had done previously and waited until Nathan had pulled his gun again. Max moved the trolley, picked up the mallet, rewound so the trolley was back and smacked the emergency alarm in the corner. Loud blaring sounds that came were deafening, Nathan had fallen to the floor with a slam as the blue haired female shouted and made her escape. Nathan followed suit and Lee opened the stall and saw Max giving her a look that showed her relief.

They exited the bathroom together, but the security guard promptly stopped them, scolding and interrogating as if they were children and had done something wrong.

“Hey, Madsen, don’t be such a dick. I have familial issues and Max was helping and consoling me.” Paisley glared, and Max tried her best but looked like a small child.

“Miss Christopher—shut your mouth—” Lee scoffed, fake tears springing to her eyes as her hand covered her mouth. Principal Wells intervened and the were glad, but when exiting the building he stopped them.

“You both look stressed out. Are you both okay?”

“Mr. Madsen has serious issues, he just told me to shut up. He interrogated us. Today is such a hard day—it was my mother’s birthday.” Max seemed to be impressed by Paisley’s lying abilities.

“Is that all you’re thinking of? Or have you done something wrong?”

“Are you accusing me of lying, principal Wells?” She questioned, her tears drying up and shooting him an accusing glare.

“I’m sure my uncle informed you that it is in fact my mother’s birthday. I get very sad during this time of year. Max found me in the bathroom and consoled me. So, yes, principal Wells, I am rather stressed.” He must’ve bought it because he nodded and gestured to his office.

“My door is always open to give advice.”

“Thank you so much. It really means a lot.” Paisley nodded, giving a watery relieved smile before pulling Max to the main campus through the doors. The alarm was off but the ringing from it was annoying as all hell. Once they descended the stairs, Max yanked herself loose and it spun Lee around to face her.

“You didn’t tell him about Nathan—”

“Max, you don’t understand what happens if we go down that road. Wells won’t give a shit; he won’t look into it. Then he’ll tell Nathan’s dad who’ll threaten him and tell Nathan. It’ll come back to us.”

“But—shit—you lied so well that Wells bought it!”

“He’s a fucking drunkard, of course he did. Plus, I have tons of experience under my belt that I might as well be an expert.”

“Thanks, I guess… You’re Paisley Christopher, right?”

“Yeah I’m Mark Jefferson’s niece.”

“I didn’t know that, you look super young. How old are you?”

“Fourteen, he made sure I got into the academy.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re fourteen, you seem older.” A ping from Max’s phone sounded and she instantly checked it, texting.

“It’s Warren, I have to go. I’ll see you later?” Max asked, Paisley nodded and while her classmate went around campus to socialize, she went directly to the dorms where Victoria was sat with her minions. All three annoying plastics. When Paisley tried to pass, Victoria scoffed, sitting up.

“Whoa freak, you don’t even stay in the dorms.” She mocked, pointing out. Paisley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“I mean, don’t move if you wanna crush your chances at the Everyday Heroes contest. I would, especially since I have ways of convincing my uncle.” Lee examined her nails, letting her green eyes flicker to Victoria’s.

“You’re like fucking twelve!” She shouted in displeasure.

“Nice guess, Tori, but I’m fourteen and I don’t screw around. If you want your fair chance to win the contest I’d move.” Victoria rolled her eyes, standing up even as Courtney and Taylor scoffed. They’d told their queen bee not to move a muscle and she had. It made Paisley feel powerful as she went up the steps and into the boys’ dorms.

Paisley entered the dorms, walking down the corridor before turning left and knocking on the first door there;111.

“What?” She heard Nathan’s upset grumbling from behind the door. Lee opened the door and walked in to where Nate was laying on his bed.

“What the fuck do you want?” Paisley closed the door behind her and sat on his couch and tried to get comfortable.

“You, the bathroom. Wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking?”

“The bathroom?” He asked, waving his hand dismissively.

“Your goddamn gun, Nate!” She whispers shouts and he was up and on his feet in an instant, his hand wrapped around her neck loosely. Nathan’s hand squeezed lightly, trying to remind her who was in charge.

“Don’t fucking yell at me, you’re like ten years old.”

“I’m fourteen, Nathan. Don’t play the age card.” She removed his hand and shoved it into his chest.

“He’ll kill us if he finds out.” She reminded him and he groaned.

“You actually want to live with what we’ve done?”

“Can you please take this seriously?” Nathan let out a laugh, devoid of any humor. It answered her question. He collapsed back on his bed and relaxed.

“Where were you in the bathroom?”

“I was hiding in the last stall.” He locked eyes with her and squinted, making sure she wasn’t lying.

“I guess you left the fucking Polaroid then. You gonna join Max on her twee hipster expeditions?”

“That one wasn’t mine, Nate.”

“Then who does it—” He stopped himself short and sat up.

“Max Caulfield. Fan-fucking-tastic! Are you sure she was there?”

“She saw the gun, she almost told Wells too, I had to step in and lie.”

“You only stepped in to cover her ass.”

“Not even, I stepped in because what if Wells begins investigating? You know Mark wouldn’t be happy about it. I convinced her that it was best if she didn’t clash heads with you.”

“Damn right.” Nathan was off his bed and out the door and had Paisley trailing after him, he was in the main campus and in the parking lot in no time at all. Paisley was trying to stop him, pulling on his arm but he yanked out of her grip.

“Max Caulfield, right? You’re one of Jefferson’s photo groupies…” He asked as he approached her.

“I’m one of his students.” Max corrected; Paisley cursed her. Why couldn’t s have just gone along with it?

“Whatthefuckever. I know you like to take pictures, especially when you’re hiding out in bathrooms. You best tell me what you saw. Now!” Nathan demanded, yelling. Paisley braced herself for the worst, she knew it was coming. She shook her head at Warren when he looked to her, Nathan towered over Max. She shouldn’t have told him.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you’re new here but don’t play dumb with me.”

“I’m not new. I’ve lived here for years.”

“Then you should know the Prescott’s own this shithole.”

“Nate—"

“Then you shouldn’t worry about me… worry about yourself.” He grew angrier, his hands clenching tighter into fists. Max seemed to have a penchant for pissing him off, then again, didn’t everybody?

Nathan was so far gone, lost in his anger and beyond reasoning. If a hand was laid on him, a fight could break out. He was a ticking time bomb.

“Do not analyze me! I pay people for that. Worry about yourself, Max Caulfield.”

“Take a step back, Nathan Prescott.” Max's words have him stepping closer, into her face.

“Oh, man, you’re telling me what to do?” Warren gets in between and as a result, gets headbutted. He falls to the ground, clutching his head. Max shoves Nathan and he turns back to her, his hand gripping her around the neck.

“Nathan!” Paisley shouted, eyeing Warren on the ground.

“Nobody tells me what to do,” he shakes Max, “Not my parents, not the principal, or that whore in the bathroom!” She manages to scrape his cheek and he shoves her to the ground. Lee grabs Nate by his shoulder and he backhands her, and she stumbles as a rusted beige truck drives up. It almost hits Max who immediately stands up and gazes at the driver.

“Chloe?”

“Max?” They hear the driver exclaim.

“No way, you again?” Nathan questions in a growl. Warren stands up and tackles Nathan to the ground.

“Go, go! I got this!” He yells and Max gets in. Paisley looks around and all she can feel is her heart beating in her chest. Nathan pauses hitting Warren and stands up, kicking the car door closed.

“Get your punk asses out of there now! Don’t even try to run! Nobody messes with me! NOBODY!” He shouts as the female from the bathroom pulls away. Paisley watches as the truck gets farther and farther away. Madsen comes over and the teenagers turn towards him.

“You three, Principal Wells’ office. Now.”

“Fuck off old man.” Nathan gives the security guard the finger. Warren stands to his feet and Paisley feels her cheek and looks around between the guys.

“Miss Christopher—move it—”

“Dude I said fuck off! Do you not understand English?” Nate shouted, lighting a cigarette. Madsen grabbed Lee by her bicep, and she tried pulling away, protesting.

“Leave her alone—” Warren said.

“Stay out of this Gayram.” Nathan sneered. Madsen forced them to the Principal’s office, Warren with an ice pack, Nathan with a bandage where the scratches were, and Paisley who had makeup on hand to cover the forming bruise.

“Would either of you three care to explain?” Wells asked, each of them looked at each other. The boys not bothering to mask their disdain for each other.

“Nathan started this.” The younger boy spoke up. The older boy raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, giving him the finger, which Wells didn’t even bother to comment on. Warren gave a mocking face and Nathan almost smacked him from behind Paisley when Wells scolded him. Warren and Paisley argued until it became too loud and they all silenced at Wells’ yelling. Nathan made half assed comments and left the office, not bothering to close the door behind him.

“We done here? Cause I’m leaving too.” Warren stormed out in a slightly less aggressive fashion and Paisley secured her bag as she stood up.

“Want to explain miss Christopher? It seems like the most trouble you’ve caused, and the week is only beginning.” He asked, leaning over his desk. Paisley shrugged.

“I’m just unlucky. Bad timing is all.” She chalked it up, leaving the room as she heard him sigh behind her. She exited the school and what ever students were left from earlier whispered and eyed her. First time she’d taken it in stride, she’d made it to the campus exit when she received two messages at the same time from two very different people.

UNKNOWN > You just wait until I see you later.

Warren > How could you defend such an asshole? He hit you!

Not a good end to any day, this meant bad news. When she met her uncle in the parking lot, he didn’t look pleased in the least. Paisley got in the car, no protesting and he climbed in the driver’s side. The whole ride home, he expressed his disappointment calmly. Most likely he’d get angrier at home where she could receive her punishment.

They arrived but when she slowly went to hide but failed, he caught her by her lengthy brown hair, yanking her downwards until her knees hit the laminate.

“I wasn’t going to discipline you but then I saw the look in your eye. You were going to hide; I just know it.”

“Please—uncle Mark, I wasn’t! I promise!” She cried, her knees rubbing harshly even with her dress to protect them a little. Her hands covered his, attempting to undo them.

“Go to your room, I don’t want to see you until tomorrow.” He let go of her hair and Paisley managed to stand up on her wobbly knees.

“My punishment?” She asked, stumbling back.

“You take the photos Friday. I choose the subject and you don’t get dinner tonight.”

“What subject?” She asked fearfully, maybe it was Stella? Or Alyssa, or even Taylor and Courtney. It was impossible to figure out who his intended target was.

“Victoria, of course. You’re drugging her at the Vortex Club party. After I announced the winner of the contest.” Paisley nodded, leaving his presence and staying in her room. He’d left a bit ago by the time the sun was setting, it was getting late and she was getting hungry, but she wouldn’t dare try to eat. Paisley lost track of how much time she’d been sitting in the window. When she saw the snow, she didn’t believe it to be real. The house was silent meaning her aunt Prudence was gone and had taken Amelia to work.

She simply went outside and watched it snow. Lee sat on the steps of the backyard and felt sharp pains in her head, passing out. There was thunder, harsh winds. Paisley forced herself to walk up the steep terrain. She managed to barely avoid collapsing trees and rolling boulders. They obstacles she probably couldn’t have managed without her rewind abilities. As she ran up, Paisley realized it was a lighthouse. The lighthouse, she looked over the edge and saw nothing but Arcadia Bay in ruins.

When she made it to the top, she saw Max who was holding a newspaper.

“October 11th? Is this Friday? That’s only four days away!” Max exclaimed, letting the paper fly upwards into the storm. Paisley reached out, her hand touching Max’s shoulder as she zapped back to the stairs. Lee stood and stumbled into the house, locking the back door and locking herself inside her bedroom.

Maybe it’s time to be a hero.

[rousingloki]

Thoughts: Nintendo VR

 Oh Nintendo, you really have outdone yourselves.

So on my last “Thoughts” topic, I explored what Nintendo has done to keep its identity of Nintendo, and how Nintendo has managed to keep it’s core philosophy alive, and to pass on the dream of Mr. Iwata in keeping games affordable, accessible, and most importantly, fun. I mentioned that I noticed all this with Nintendo Labo, and the upcoming VR kit, and it’s that VR kit that I’d like to talk to you all about.

(Note, if you want to start a discussion about this, I more than welcome it, because discussions about this sort of topic are always great to listen to. I think it’s very important to hear other perspectives, and what other people have to say. With that in mind, however; please try not to start a flame war, or attacking other people’s opinions, I did say discuss, not argue. Thanks)

So before I get into the Labo, let’s look back on a little history. Nintendo has been involved with VR, or the realm of 3D gameplay multiple times. It started back with the Famicom, with a device called: Famicom 3D System. (If you don’t care for the history portion just skip ahead 5 paragraphs)

This pair of goggles basically allowed you to have the game right in front of your face, not really making it Virtual Reality, but it was a start I suppose. To compare it to anything, would be Sega’s Segascope 3D glasses. The system was a colossal failure, and only compatible with about 7 games. It would be about 8 years before Nintendo threw their hat into the ring with another Virtual Reality project.

Skip ahead to 1995. Nintendo was dominating the 16-bit market, with their Super Nintendo Entertainment System (Or Super Famicom if you’re from Japan), and they had complete control of the handheld market with the Gameboy. Nintendo wanted an edge though, to fill a gap before the release of the Nintendo 64. Thus was born, the Virtual Boy. (Then known as VR32)

The Virtual Boy was sold as a Virtual Reality console, and it also was deemed part of Nintendo’s “Portable” line of gaming. Most use that term very loosely though because even I, someone who had a Virtual Boy as a kid, could not see this thing as anything being even close to portable. The Virtual Boy also did not boast real Virtual Reality, what it did have, was 3D screening. Using Stereoscope technology, it tricked your eyes into thinking you were seeing true 3D, which worked, but it didn’t have anything like head tracking, and the constant red and black colors, mixed with having your eyes so close to the poor screen meant eye strain, and headaches.

In the end, the Virtual Boy was a catastrophic failure from the start. It was discontinued less than a year after it was released, with only 22 games ever made for it. The Virtual Boy does have a legacy however; and that legacy was picked up in 2011, by the Nintendo 3DS.

The Nintendo 3DS was everything the Virtual Boy wasn’t: Fun. Not only did games happen for console, but it met the many goals that the Virtual Boy didn’t meet: It was portable, had better 3D, was a social console, and had an excellent line of video games made for it. The 3DS still continues today, and even though it’s hard to say if it’s gonna stick around much longer due to the domination of the Switch, the 3DS is an excellent handheld, and loved by many. Although the one thing it didn’t fulfill, was a VR type experience, which brings us to today...

The Nintendo Labo VR Kit.

Being the first “VR” style platform Nintendo has attempted in 24 years, Nintendo is bringing VR to it’s beloved platform: The Nintendo Switch.

Where to begin with this... I guess I’ll just give my first impressions based on all the pics and videos I’ve seen so far. (Here’s a link to the video Nintendo posted on it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOjcbdAU5Gw&t=2s)

So from just the announcement, before a video was even in place, I was immediately excited. I’ve bought every single Labo kit before this, and each one has not disappointed. As someone who’s involved very deeply with STEM, this type of kit is perfect for those looking to get interested in that sort of field, while also having fun, and learning at the same time. I don’t look at the VR as a plaything in the traditional sense, while I do want to have some fun with it, and see what direction Nintendo is taking with it, I’m mostly interested in how everything works, and why everything works about it.

(This is why I will die alone)

When it comes to the games, they’re honestly the least interesting part of the whole experience. While some games (e.g. Piano Studio in the Variety Kit, Adventure in the Vehicle Kit) do have some pull and keep me a bit more interested, the most fun part I’ve had is building them. Anyone who’s played with Lego’s, Bionicle, Gundams, or anything that requires any sort of building, and enjoys that aspect the most, would be absolutely delighted by how satisfying it is to see these creations come to life with each sheet of cardboard.

And once you’ve built them, even if the game doesn’t stay interesting for very long, there’s something very exciting about seeing the Labo work once you start playing the game. The actual reeling in of a fish on the fishing rod, listening to it actually make sounds was something that made me act like a 6 year old kid going fishing with my dad for the first time.

Once you’ve built, and played with the Toy-Cons, you can learn everything there is to know about them.

Ranging from just learning about the Nintendo Switch Hardware on its own, from the Screen to the Joy-Cons, to the actual Labo creations themselves. You can see how the games work, how the Nintendo Switch system is involved, and some general knowledge like fixing the labos is included here as well. As well as how to make your Labo your own, giving customization tips, and what NOT to do if you want to preserve the life of your Labo.

Of course once you’ve learned everything, you can open up the Toy-Con Garage and make your own creations, make your own Labo’s to play with, now that you have the knowledge and tools to make them. It’s what makes the Labo near infinitely re-playable. Ranging from simple games, to instruments, if you have the imagination, I’m sure you can find a way to build it.

After having said all that, let’s get back into the VR kit itself. The VR Kit comes in two different flavors: One with just the Goggles and Blaster, and the other has everything else. Because I’m getting the latter (And will be reviewing it so stay tuned) let’s talk about that one. The Labo comes with 6 different Toy-Con creations: The Goggles, Wind Pedal, Blaster, Bird, Elephant, and Camera.

If we were to go through each one of these, we’d be here forever (Plus I said I’m gonna review it next week, so we’ll do that there) so I’m just gonna say what I feel about the kit as a whole. I absolutely love it. The whole idea of the thing is just fantastic. Not only does it introduce VR at a more affordable yet still fun level, it introduces it to a younger audience, those who are too young to be able to use actual VR systems that were designed with an older audience in mind.

Sure the games look simple, but like I said it’s the experience as a whole, from building the labo, to trying it out, to learning how everything works that makes everything count in the end. Like I said, as someone who’s worked extensively in the STEM field, I’m absolutely delighted to see something like this. It takes the limitations of the switch and expands them to incorporate an entirely new way to play video games. It stretches the field of imagination to new heights, and showcases not only what the Switch as a system can do, but how you can do things with your imagination.

Like the other Labo kits, this one is getting a “garage” where you can create your own games. While you probably won’t be making much out of cardboard, you’re able to make games that would fit with the VR’s idea in mind. From exploration games, to rhythm games, it’s whatever you can think of and get working that makes it so much fun. Plus Nintendo is adding support to Super Mario Odyssey and Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild for free, so that’s a bonus.

Now this isn’t a full fledged review, and I’m gonna take advantage of that to ask a question, why do people give this thing so much hate? Why are people so against Nintendo Labo?

I’ve seen the hatred for Nintendo Labo since the beginning, it shows with the like and dislike bar of the original video that Nintendo posted before the first two kits were even released.

I truly do not understand the flak that the Labo gets. Most people seem to think that the cardboard is made out of 8x11 printer paper that would fall apart the second you tried to play with it, but after getting 15+ hours out of EACH of my Labo kits, I can safely say that they’re surprisingly durable, and none of them have received any real wear or tear to them.

Yet I still don’t understand the hatred towards them, people say you’re paying a huge amount of money for cardboard, even though people are content paying $60 for a piece of plastic and silicon (not even that if they buy a download code) People also don’t look at the fact that the PSVR, which is usually around $250 to buy new (about $350 if you include move controllers) and most of the games are still nothing more than tech demos, ones of huge games like Skyrim, or Borderlands, which you’re expected to pay for, for full price, and even then the games still feel like nothing but glorified tech demos. Maybe I’m just being cynical, maybe I’m just being a Nintendo Fan boy, but it’s something I really just don’t understand.

So yeah, these are all my thoughts on the VR right now, something I’m looking VERY forward to, and has me being all giddy and excited like a 7 year old kid who’s only a week away from Christmas. It’s something that I know will make people happy, and maybe even get more people interested in VR, and the STEM community as well.

Thank you all for reading (And again, please ask away if you have anything you want to tell me, I’d love to hear what other people have to say on this)

[xxbyimm]

The Landlord - Richard Armitage x Reader

Link to my Masterlist.

This is a fic request for the lovely @thorin-thoughts. Thank you so much hun for your patience! I hope you like it!! Thank you @deepestfirefun for proofreading it! You’re a dime <3

The landlord - Richard Armitage x reader

Request/summary:  I want a one shot based off my imagine of "Richard enjoys walking around the house naked just so you stare at him" ;)

Warnings: Sexual tension. Nothing too explicit.

Taglist: @fizzy-custard If you wish to be tagged in my upcoming drabbles, let me know :) <3

After everything you had been through today, this is just what you needed. You groan as you watch the thick black smoke escaping through the hood of your car. You heave a sigh. It is late at night, you’re tired as fuck after your shift at work and all you want to do is go home. Go home and share your bed with your two favorites lads: Ben & Jerry. A brief smile crosses your face when you think about that lovely ‘Karamel Sutra Core’ flavor pint that is waiting for you in the fridge. Yum!

A frightening noise from your car pulls you back into reality again. Oh god, it’s about to give up… ‘No, no, baby.’ You whisper at your car.

Yeah, you know it’s pretty pointless to talk at a vehicle, but at this stage you’re willing to try anything. You can’t afford a new car. You probably can’t even afford the reparations that are needed to patch up your beloved beauty. ‘Hold on! Please hold on!’ you whimper.

But your car isn’t having any of it and you find yourself on the side of the road. You wince and jump from your seat to take a look. When you open the hood, a weft of smoke blows into your face, causing you to cough. You wave it away with your hands and stare at the engine. Well, this is great. You have no clue. None. What could be the problem? Is it even safe to touch these overheated…. components? You curse yourself for not paying attention to any of the things your father told you when he bought this car for you. At that time, you assumed he would always be there to help you out with these things. Likewise, you were also deadly sure that Garrett would be there for you when you needed him. Ironically, both were gone now… You roll your eyes when you think about them. Let’s hope their new loves are worth it. You never want to see those two cheating bastards again.

You heave a sigh as you push the hood back into its original position. Great. Your car is officially broken and you have no idea how to solve it. To make it even better, you’re in the middle of nowhere. You shrug and grab your bag from the passenger’s seat. Where’s that damn phone? Feverishly you search for your phone, but it’s not in your purse. ‘Where is it?’ you shout, frustrated. You empty your bag on the driver’s seat and seek through your belongings, but your phone isn’t there. ‘You got to be kidding me.’ You mutter when you realize why your phone isn’t where it should be. Because you left it in the socket. At work. To charge your battery.

You throw your stuff back into your bag again and close your car. Now what? You have no means to get a tow truck for your car… You shrug and start walking. Seems you have to find a living soul in these abandoned parts. Preferably with a phone, but infinite knowledge about fixing cars is also welcome…

You have walked for about half an hour when you suddenly stop and realize where your feet have taken you. If you had known where you were going (and paid more attention to the road instead of listening to your iPod…) you’d never venture here again. But, here you are. You tilt your head and take in the beauty of the massive manor house that is in front of you. Its breathtaking architecture never seems to stop amazing you. You exhale slowly. Despite its beauty, it’s the last place you want to be in. Why? Simple.

It’s Garret’s house.

Well, technically it isn’t Garret’s house. Your ignorant ex-boyfriend happens to rent the attic from the owner of this magnificent house. You press your lips together and try not to smile when you think about mister Armitage, who lives on the ground floor. Mister Armitage… the tall and muscular (but yet so refined…) landlord with blue eyes that pierce through your soul and dark brown short hair that makes you bite your lip. And then you didn’t even mention his beard! Oh, how you long for that beard to scratch your skin… Everywhere. That guy is the definition of hot.

You bite back a giggle and ascend the stairs up to the terrace. You let your fingers float above doorbell for a moment before you press it. You sigh when you hear movement in the house. Maybe being here isn’t that bad at all…

‘Y/N? What are you doing here?’ mister Armitage asks as he opens the door. ‘Garrett isn’t home. He’s out with…’ He frowns. ‘I believe her name was… Susan? I don’t remember…’ ‘Mister Armitage.’ You say and smile politely as you try NOT to stare at the only garment he is wearing.

A towel.

And boy, that towel is about to give in to the law of gravity.

You blink a few times and resist the urge to lick your lips. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour…’ you stammer. ‘But my car broke down on the road, and I…’ ‘Please, just Richard is fine.’ He assures you as he opens the door a little more to let you in. When you step alongside him, you detect the musky scent of his shower gel and it makes your head fuzzy. His broad and muscular chest is close to your face and it takes all of your self-control to keep breathing properly. You try to focus on the beautiful floor tiles in the familiar hall and slip out of your coat. As the true gentleman he is, mister Armitage takes it from you and puts it on the coat rack. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that he’s scarcely dressed. ‘I haven’t seen you in a while.’ He establishes calmly as you follow him into the living room. It is sinful that you pray for that towel to drop on the floor?

Damn it girl, keep your shit together!

‘Not since…’ he stops mid-sentence and watches your reaction. ‘No, not since Garrett decided to cheat on me.’ You smirk. ‘I had no intention in seeing that prick ever again.’ ‘No, you deserve a better man.’ He nods. ‘Would you like some wine?’ ‘Yes, thank you.’ You say as you lower yourself on the luxurious black couch. The soft black leather is as divine as you remember from the one time you’ve been here. You heave a sigh. Even the furniture in mister Armitage’s house is as perfect as he is.

‘So.’ Mister Armitage begins as he ventures into the kitchen. ‘What happened to your car?’ ‘I have no idea.’ You answer. ‘I was driving home when suddenly black smoke started to appear from under the hood. And then my car made some terrifying noises. After that, it just gave up.’ Mister Armitage smiles. You hold your hands up in surrender. ‘I know. I’m an hopeless case. I don’t have a clue what’s wrong with it. But at least I figured that black smoke isn’t a good thing, is it?’ ‘No, it’s not.’ He chuckles as he fills two glasses with red wine. Apparently he remembers that red wine is your favorite type of drink. Good gods, that guy is irresistibly charming. ‘And you hoped Garrett could help you?’ mister Armitage says. ‘Actually I hoped he wouldn’t be home, and you would be able to help me out, mister Armitage.’ You admit. ‘How many times did I tell you to call me Richard?’ he purrs and that low sensual voice makes your cheeks flush. ‘I seem to forget every single time, sir.’ you shoot back, tilting your head slightly. ‘I urge you to remember.’ He presses. ‘I feel old when you call me mister Armitage.’ You giggle. ‘I’m so sorry, Richard. That was never my intention. But you know what they say…’

Something about the advantages of dating an older guy… In your opinion, they easily best men from your own age. They’re just so much more experienced and their confidence is sexy…. But not that you are going to tell him any of that.

‘What do they say?’ he inquires softly. ‘You don’t know?’ You breathe, not able to form coherent sentences anymore because he’s nearing you. And that towel is still barely defying gravity. His gaze burns through you as he hands you your glass of wine. Your fingers touch and it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. ‘Enlighten me.’ He challenges. ‘It’s a secret.’ You counter him. ‘Besides, what should I do with my car?’ Richard sits down next to you and takes a sip of his wine before he answers.

Oh god. That towel isn’t going to stay in place. You bite your lip again as you try to keep yourself together. ‘Keep yourself together.’ You repeat to yourself in silence. ‘Keep yourself together…’

‘You answer my question, I’ll answer yours.’ He says casually. ‘That’s hardly fair.’ You note, feeling very distracted by his hardly covered body. ‘While you contemplate over the fact if you want to provide me with an answer or not, I’m going to change. I don’t want embarrass an honest girl like yourself.’ Richard hums.

You want to scream ‘NO!’ at him and tear off that towel of his body, but instead you take a sip of your wine too and gaze into his blue eyes. It takes all of you to not look guilty. ‘Of course.’ You finally murmur. ‘I wouldn’t want to have inappropriate thoughts about the landlord of my former boyfriend.’ He cocks a brow at you and leaves the room. You can’t help but to stare at him as his towel covered butt moves away from your view and….

You gasp as you the piece of cloth drops from Richards’ body and treats you with a glimpse of his fine butt once again before he disappears around the corner.

You exhale slowly and cover your mouth with your hand. Did he just…? Wait, did he do that on purpose?

Well, shit.

You are in trouble. Deep trouble. Pleasant trouble, but still…

You sigh. It is inevitable, something is bound to happen. This tension… It has been like this since the moment you and Richard met. You remember that day so damn well. It was early in the morning, just a few months before Garrett cheated on you. That day, a frustrated Garrett asked you to find his landlord to inform him about the fact that the sink was blocked. So you went downstairs to find this anonymous guy that you never had met before. It was rather strange that you never had seen him before, since you were came to the man’s house for over a year now. You had caught glimpses of him, but when he tried to near you, you quickly shied away. Garrett had told you to be careful around mister Armitage. He had described him as a dangerous man, one who seduced beautiful ladies like yourself on a daily basis. Just for fun, of course. But that particular morning… you still don’t know what had gotten into you, but when Garrett warned you “to put something on” before you headed downstairs… You had rolled your eyes and descended the stairs in just your babydoll dress. The inner daredevil inside of you wanted to finally see what that dangerous mister Armitage was all about.

Looking back, maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

Not that Richard was anything Garrett told you he was… He was a total gentleman. Sexy as hell, but in a polished manner. Very tempting, charming, but with respect towards the lady in question. The real dangerous thing about mister Armitage was that fatal sexual attraction between the two of you, that made it hard for you to breathe. That first time when he opened his door in nothing but a dark blue bathrobe (god that thing complemented him!) and his beautiful blue eyes roamed freely over your body… a deep reddish blush had appeared on your cheeks and you had bit your lip furiously. ‘To what do I owe the honor of having such a lovely lady at my door so early in the morning?’ he had asked you in his low seducing voice. You just stood there, unable to stop biting your damn lip. Richard just smiled and his fingers had softly touched your bottom lip to release it from your teeth. ‘Mister Armitage.’ You had breathed. ‘I am Y/N. I came to tell you that…’

You couldn't say the words, because a clogged sink was the last thing you wanted this man to inform about. He was a god.

And although this unsexy topic was quite urgent, your mind went completely blank and the sole thing you could register was the sight of his bared chest. You had a hard time resisting the urge to slip your fingers under the soft bathrobe and explore those hard muscles with your touch. Damn! You blinked a few times as you tried to regain your senses. He made it hard to even finish a simple sentence!

‘The sink...’ you managed to mutter helplessly. ‘Garrett is trying to fix it, but...’ ‘I'll call a plumber right away.’ Richard had told you as he walked into his house again.

He could just have left it at that, but unlike Garrett, Richard was a decent man. He walked upstairs with you to check on the problem. He even had helped Garrett, but established quickly that this problem could only be solved by a professional. He told your boyfriend the plumber would arrive in an hour, and left.

And you... You whimper softly when you think about that thing you did next. You should've stayed upstairs... But obviously you didn't. Instead, you muttered something about a scarf you left downstairs and ran after Richard. You reached him before he could close his door, almost bumping into him as you tried to explain that you were looking for your black cashmere shawl.

‘The only thing you were wearing when you came down, was this... nightgown.’ He had said, clearly amused by the not so innocent expression on your face. It was the lamest excuse ever and you knew it, but he did have the decency to not tell you that. ‘But now you're here...’ he had continued. ‘Can I persuade you to stay for some breakfast?’

You had obliged and when you finally came upstairs again an hour later (accompanied by a plumber though), Garrett had watched you suspiciously. For some reason, you couldn't stop smiling as you held on to the sweater Richard made you wear. It was way too big for you and you had protested against wearing it, but Richard was… quite… convincing. ‘We don’t want Garrett to think I’m trying to seduce you.’ He had teased. ‘Or… should I say this the other way around?’ The question still made you blush to this day. Richard turned out to be cute, smart and so funny... Surprisingly, you had a lot of common interests. You wish you would be able to talk with him some more, but needless to say, after this morning Garrett kept you as far from mister Armitage as he could. You assured Garrett you loved him and that nothing happened. It was true. Despite your attractions to Richard, your love for Garrett was too strong to actually pursue your raw needs for his landlord. But of course that didn’t stop you from peering at Richard’s naked body every morning when he exercised in his pool outside… You loved the way his muscles rolled under his skin as he moved. You gasped every time at the sight of his broad chest, his trained abdomen. You were certain that Richard didn’t know you were watching him, so every morning you curled up next to the window in the kitchen to enjoy the show. That’s when you also discovered that he liked to work out while he was completely bare…

‘Look what I found...’ Richards deep voice brings you back into reality again. Unfortunately, he's fully clothed now, but you must admit that the dark blue jeans and casual grey shirt fit his body perfectly. He's still a sight to enjoy. You focus on his hands and a giggle escapes your mouth when you see what he's holding.

A black shawl.

‘Strange how this thing ended up in my bedroom.’ He says as he sits next to you and hands the scarf over. You let your hands glide through the smooth material. It's cashmere, like you said. Only... you've never owned such a delicate shawl in your whole life. Did he really buy you that? You decide to play along. ‘Thank you!’ You say. ‘I don't know how it ended up in your bedroom, but I'm glad I've got it back.’ ‘I'm sure you do.’ He answers. ‘The lady in the store told me it's the best quality...’ You swallow hard and he smoothly moves closer to you. ‘Y/N’ he breathes as his lips brush over yours. ‘Please tell me... That first day... Did you feel the same as I did?’ ‘Yes.’ You manage to say. ‘Otherwise I wouldn't have feigned the loss of my not existing scarf...’ Richard chuckles and the low sound vibrates through your body. ‘Your appearance was very intoxicating to me that day...’ ‘Is that why you made me wear your sweater?’ you ask. ‘That would be one of the reasons.’ He admits. ‘Where is that thing now, I wonder?’ ‘Oh, there’s no way you’re getting it back.’ You grin. ‘It’s my favorite shirt.’ ‘So you’ll just keep my clothes without my consent?’ he states as he takes the glass of wine from your hand and puts it on the table. ‘It’s not like you need them.’ You muse. ‘I don’t?’ His low voice is making your body tremble and your breathing becomes shallow. Your tongue flicks out to wet your lip and his blue eyes follow the movement.

‘When I’m around your property, you always seem to be scarcely dressed or naked. Tell me mister Armitage, is that just a mere coincidence?’ you tease as you eye him and raise one brow. Richard laughs and runs his hands through his hair. Oh, how you long to do that for him… ‘Let me ask you a question too, miss S/N.’ he proposes as he gives you a cheeky smile. ‘If a man works out daily in his own pool, like he always has done, and he caught a lady staring at him numerous times… Is that a coincidence?’ You narrow your eyes. ‘I think you were doing it on purpose, mister Armitage.’ ‘I would never.’ Richard claims. ‘It’s inappropriate to tempt a woman that’s already taken.’ You want to reply that you’re not believing him for one bit, but then his lips move to your ear and make you forget your intentions anyway. His breath tickles the sensitive skin and a soft moan slips from your mouth. ‘Though I have admit that I enjoy the fact that you cannot seem to stop staring at me when I’m naked.’ He whispers. Your eyes meet his and you can see his clear desire in them. ‘Do I have your permission to kiss you?' he rumbles, his beard scratching your cheek slightly as he moves to your lips. ‘Yes.’ You whisper. He doesn’t waste any time and his mouth is on yours, kissing you gently. Your fingers brush through his hair and you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Richard groans and the sound makes your blood pulse through your body in a fast speed. Your cheeks flush in a deep red color again and you moan as his tongue traces along your bottom lip. His hands roam over your body at the same time and you… You…

You whimper in protest as he suddenly breaks the kiss and watches you intently, concern all written over his face. ‘No.’ he murmurs. ‘I’m sorry, I should not have done that.’ ‘What?’ you cry out, surprised by his sudden change of heart. ‘You came to me for help, and I’m not helping you out.’ He sighs. ‘I don’t want to make you feel like you have to…’ ‘But I want this…’ you say. ‘I’m not like-’ he begins before he swallows hard. ‘I’m not going to take advantage of your compromised state.’ He insists. ‘We will fix your car first and then you can decide whether you…’ Again he doesn’t finish his sentence, but raises on his feet and offers you his hand. You’re too perplexed to protest and follow him to the main hall, where you gets your coat.

What the fuck did you do wrong?

The two of you are heading towards Richard’s car when suddenly Garrett’s vehicle pulls up in the driveway. ‘Y/N?’ Garrets shouts as he gets out the car. You don’t answer him and look away instead. Garrett turns to Richard. ‘Mister Armitage, is Y/N bothering you?’ ‘Not at all.’ Richard replies with a smile. Garrett watches you and Richard separately and you can see him doing the math. ‘Seriously, Y/N?’ he scoffs as he nears you. ‘I knew my landlord made your panties drop, but this is a very low way to try to get back to me.’ You raise your head so you can face him. ‘Excuse me, Garrett?’ ‘Y/N’s car gave up.’ Richard notes. ‘That’s why she’s here. I’m helping her out.’ ‘And you believe that?’ Garrett sneers. ‘I believe the lady what she tells me, yes.’ Richard says in an icy cold tone. ‘You should know better.’ Garrett smirks. ‘You’re almost twice her age.’ Richard takes a step forward and you can see how tensed his body is. He’s holding back his anger as long as he can. ‘I’m not going to let my tenant insult me in such a rude way.’ He growls. ‘Nor can I allow him to talk to a woman in this manner.’ Garrett clenches his jaw, fully aware that he’s on the losing side here. Richard could throw him out if it pleases him. Any time… ‘What Y/N and I are doing is our own business. If she wishes to date me Garrett, that’s her decision and that has nothing to do with the fact that you were STUPID enough to betray her in the way you did.’ Garrett is ready to reply, but Richard silences him with a single movement from his hand. ‘Remember our accordance, sir.’ Richard smirks. ‘I advise you to choose wisely.’ Garret groans and turns to you. ‘This isn’t over.’ He hisses and then he storms off upstairs.

‘If I wish to date you?’ you ask Richard with a smile. ‘Yes, Y/N.’ he whispers as his hands pull you closer to him again, making you forget how to breathe. ‘Apparently even Garrett knew your… you’re attracted to me.’ He mutters softly while he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. ‘Was I that obvious?’ you say. ‘Depends on the question if your car really is sitting dead at the side of the road.’ he states. ‘That… mister Armitage, wasn’t a lie. It was purely coincidence.’ you breathe against his lips. ‘I swear.’ ‘I believe you.’ He purrs as his lips are touching yours again. ‘Now, Y/N… Where were we?’

[msilet]

Hello, Beloved Husband (2/3)

Summary: Harry and Eggsy finally find Merlin lying in a coma in Thailand. Harry uses his marital status with Merlin to gain visiting right.

Ship: Harry Hart/Merlin

Chapter: 2 / 3

Link to chapter 1: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/167977795700/hello-beloved-husband

Link to chapter 3: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/168964840325/hello-beloved-husband-33

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12853176/chapters/29435082

Note: I told myself I would just write a small epilogue with the proposal and the wedding. 2500+ words later and I still have no wedding. That will have to be in chapter 3.

Chapter behind the cut

It has been 3 months since they brought Merlin back to the UK. The Kingsman doctors have assured him that Merlin is healing nicely and he should be up and about in the foreseeable future. Whiskey came over last month to examine Merlin and assured Harry that things are going remarkably well.

Another great news is that they located both Lancelot and Percival alive. Roxy had a lot of her bones broken and sustained a few fractures on her skull due to the building collapsing on her panic room but there was nothing their doctors could not mend. Martin was extremely lucky to escape completely unscathed thanks to not being home. He was on a mission and only routed his communication via his house to encrypt it. Martin was the one finding and bringing Roxy in. Eggsy, Harry, Martin and even Roxy in her temporary wheelchair take turn looking over Merlin so that the others can be away to attend to personal and Kingsman business.

Harry would like nothing more than to spend time at the temporary HQ with all the people closest to him but Kingsman has to come first. At the moment he is up in Scotland to oversee the construction of the new Kingsman distillery and below it, the Scottish base. They have decided to decentralize so that all of them can no longer be wiped out at once anymore. The tailor shop is being rebuilt as well as the original HQ, this time with state of the art defense systems. Harry sighs, when it comes to technologies, he would have loved to have the opinion and skills of his wizard. He does hope Merlin will be up soon and help him out because sometimes, all these tech stuff confound him.

Suddenly, Harry's glasses beep. Right after he turns it on he hears Eggsy yelling breathlessly, as if he's running from a stampede, into the mic, "Harry! Harry! Back to HQ! I'm on my way!"

"Eggsy, what's wrong?", he panics slightly, "Are we getting attacked? Is everyone alright?"

"No! No, nothin' like that!", Eggsy sounds like he does not slow down, "Roxy called! Merlin's up! He opened his eyes!"

Harry is speechless for a moment, then he starts running too. "Eggsy, where are you right now? Can you get to him soon?"

"Yeah, Harry, 'm in London, can be there in less than 30 minutes!"

"Good, tell Merlin I'm on my way. I'll find the fastest way possible even if I'll have to fly the helicopter myself!"

"Harry! You only have one eye, if you fly that helicopter I swear to God Merlin's gonna kill you himself!"

"That would require him being able to kill me first!"

"Harry, bruv, I will help him kill you if you fly that helicopter, call the pilot! Now I've got to go, bye!"

3 hours later

Harry walks to the hospital wing, a bloody long walk if you ask him. He can even hear Merlin taunting late again, Sir in his head. All his grand idea of being there when Merlin wakes up not only went up in flames but now he is late for his own husband finally coming back to the living world. Not that he is displeased, he's beyond happy but deep down there's a little pettiness, just a little. He was there the whole day yesterday. As he approaches Merlin's room, he sees Eggsy wheeling Roxy out. Eggsy's face lights up when he sees Harry. "About damn time, Harry. What took you so long?"

"Had to make a detour for something. Am I the last one?"

Eggsy grins mischievously and says "Nah Harry, lucky for you, Percival is still in mainland Europe!"

Harry exhales, "Well thank God for small favours."

Eggsy, and by extent, Roxy, moves closer to Harry. Roxy tells him "Merlin is still awake, come inside and talk to him before he falls asleep again, Arthur." Eggsy nods and continues Roxy's words, "She's right and I figure you've got lots to talk about, yeah? Good luck!" and then off they go.

Harry stands alone in front of the door, wondering why he is so hesitant. The adrenaline level he has been running on is now dropping low and all kinds of irrational doubts float to the forefront of his mind. What if this is a dream and when he pushes that door open he will see Merlin still in a coma or worse, dead? He had nightmares like that before.

"You coward, get a grip on yourself", he mumbles to himself. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

The sight that greets him makes him tear up. It is really his dear Hamish sitting on the bed with pillows propped up behind him. As Merlin sees Harry, he smiles. His smile is slightly tired but genuine and that is definitely the greatest sight Harry has ever seen. "Hello, Galahad.", Merlin greets him with the familiar line. It is their thing; the sentence sounds completely professional to others but holds so much meaning for them.

"Hello, beloved husband. It is Arthur now.", Harry can't help but says as he walks over to Merlin's side as quick as possible, feeling like he is floating on cloud nine.

"Oh, my. Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I would have loved to stand up and greet you properly but…", Merlin gestures to his legs sarcastically.

Harry does not say anything, just silently raises his hands to touch Merlin's face while staring into his eyes. "Hamish…", he manages to choke out, his voice breaking.

"Harry…", Merlin only manages before Harry pulls him into a tight hug. He can feel Harry shaking.

"You're back, you're really back, alive, in my arms.", Harry says between sobs, still clinging onto Merlin.

Despite being in pain, Merlin lifts his bandaged arms up and wraps them around Harry, holding him close. "I'm here, Harry. It seems our time together isn't at an end yet."

"You are damn right it isn't. If I have my way, it won't be over for a long time.", Harry's voice is muffled by Merlin's shirt but audible.

"Yes, Your Majesty.", Merlin chuckles.

After a while, calmed down, Harry realizes that he is still holding onto Merlin tightly, too tightly in fact, that he might be hurting him. He pulls back and asks, "Did I hurt you? Sorry, I was quite overwhelmed." When Merlin shakes his head, Harry lets out a sigh of relief. He sits down on the chair next to the bed and smiles shyly at Merlin. "How do you feel, Hamish?"

"It hurts all over and I still feel pain where my legs used to be but I am happy to be alive and have my mind intact."

"No Kingsman test for you then", Harry grins, his eye watery.

"Fucking hell, no, Harry.", Merlin grins back. Both of them then just sit together in silence for a few moments. Harry uses this time to collect his thoughts and muster up some ideas of what to say next.

"Look, Hamish, there is something very important I need to tell you right now."

"I just woke up from a coma, Harry, can't it wait a few days?"

Harry hesitates but then looks at Merlin, pleading. "I made a promise when I found you in Thailand that I would do this the moment you come back to me. Indulge me, please?"

"Well then, Harry, what is it?", Merlin is fully curious.

"I remember that you love John Denver now, amongst other artists."

Merlin laughs uneasily "Well that's good, Harry, but I don't see why it's so important that you need to say it today."

"Please just let me finish. I am nervous enough as it is."

"Alright, go ahead."

"Hamish, I told Eggsy that when I was shot, loneliness and regret was all I felt, I had no one. That was not true. I did not want to tell the truth because I knew you could hear me. I did not want you to know that while I was filled with regret, it was because of all the things I wanted to say to you and experience with you. I lied about having nobody because I did not want to explain everything to Eggsy and take the focus away from him and Tilde. I was also still slightly confused and did not wish to deal with complicated matters while not operating at full mental capacity. That was a shit decision. When that mine went off, it was the worst moment of my life, much worse than when I thought I was about to die. I had to watch the most important person to me on this earth getting killed without being able to even shed a tear."

"The 6 months that you were missing, I could not go a moment without thinking of you, of what we could have had. You haunted me even in my sleep, saying I failed you. I didn't know how you could do it the 2 years before. Maybe you were better at controlling your emotions, maybe I didn’t mean as much to you as you do to me, I don't know, but I don't care anymore. You are here, now, and it's all that matters."

Taking advantage of a shocked Merlin, Harry pulls out a box from his suit pocket and gets down on one knee, looking up at Merlin. He opens the box, revealing a platinum ring with intricate patterns on the sides.

"I bought this ring before the day we signed our civil partnership document but only now can I do this properly. I love you, Hamish Andrew Ferguson, will you marry me? I mean, for real this time. I promise I would do everything in my power to make sure you are always loved, cherished and happy."

Harry waits for an answer but after a while, none was given. Merlin looks like he has frozen and become a statue. Reluctantly, Harry says, "Well this is the part where you either say yes, try to let me down gently or laugh at my face. This silence is not doing my heart any favour."

Merlin opens his mouth, then closes it, blinks, then open his mouth again but no sound comes out. Seeing Harry nearing a heart attack, he says, "Excuse me, Harry. It's not every day a man wakes up from a 9-month-long coma to a marriage proposal, I need time to process the information."

Harry deflates, all bravado leaving his body. He knows the request is definitely reasonable and he should not be demanding an answer immediately but he'd be lying if he did not dream of Merlin saying yes right away and then they share some sort of true love's kiss and everything would be right as rain, damn hopeless romantic that he is. He tries to smile, "Sure, love. You must be tired, you should rest. I'm sorry for springing it upon you so soon. It just feels wrong, keeping secrets between us any longer, life is too precious for that." Harry stands up and is about to turn around to the door but Merlin reaches a hand out to stop him. "Harry, sit down." Years of conditioning makes Harry obey Merlin's order without thinking. Merlin is looking at Harry now while Harry is staring down at his hands, still holding the box.

"Did you mean it?", Merlin broke the silence.

"Everything.", Harry does not look up.

"I am crippled now, Harry. Look at me, I'm going to be a burden on everyone. Are you really sure about this?"

"Sweetheart, granted, your long legs were so sinful they should have been illegal but they aren't the only reason why I love you. Without them, you are not a burden. Whatever your answer shall be, I will be there to help you through all this, even when you get mad at me, shout at me or tell me to fuck off. I love all of you, just as you are, regardless of circumstances."

"Since when?"

Harry chuckled dryly, "I don't know? I can't pinpoint an exact moment that made me fall in love with you. There were so many moments, across so many years that before I knew it, the only one I could have asked that day was you."

"Th…That day, it wasn't just for professional reasons?"

"No, I was just trying to find any reason to get you to say yes. Figured if I sounded too desperate I'd scared you off.", Harry smiles uneasily.

And then Merlin does something Harry does not expect at all, he giggles. "Oh God", Harry sighs, looking up at Merlin, "you are laughing at me. May I get an explanation as to why?"

"You are an idiot," Merlin signals Harry to let him finish speaking before getting upset, "and so am I."

"What does that even mean?"

"The answer is yes."

"That makes no sense! You just answered yes to a 'what' que...", Harry trails off, and then his eye widens, "Yes?"

Merlin still has a smile on his face. "Yes, I will marry you."

Now it is Harry's turn to be speechless. He just sits and stares at Merlin. "Y...yes.", he repeats.

The giggles are back. "Harry Hart, speechless. What a sight to see. To be quite honest, I expected you to be livelier."

And then Merlin finds himself with an armful of Harry Hart, crashing hard enough onto him that he has the air knocked out of his lungs. "Ouch, that hurts."

Harry is hyperventilating, he babbles, "You said yes. You said yes! Oh my God you said yes"

Merlin pats his back then slowly rubs it. "Would have said yes if you asked me like this then, too. I've been in love with you since our second year together as agent-handler. You were under serious hostile fire and yet still managed to steal that rare Star Wars action figure and brought it back unscathed for me as a souvenir just because you heard me talking about liking the series once in passing. To be absolutely honest with you, I would have said yes right that moment."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Many reasons, I guess. First, it was not professional. Being a handler and falling for your agent is both cliché and dangerous, not even counting it being bad for the team environment. What if people accuse me of favouring you? What if you don't reciprocate and then it would be awkward and hinder the missions. Not only that, Arthur was an old judgemental prick that would have given us hell if he suspected anything. Second, you are the Harry Hart, you could have had anyone you'd liked. I'm the plain Scottish nerd with shit upbringing and I spend too much time with books and computers. Figured I should have been contented with being friends with benefits. And then you asked me to enter the civil partnership and I jumped at the chance to take what I could get without asking too many questions.”

"We have been idiots, we wasted so much time." Harry sniffles, while his face is still buried against Merlin's shoulder.

"I cried so much the day I came to empty your safe after V-Day. I found the ring, you know, I had so many questions. What did you mean by buying this, why did you not give it to me, was it even for me. I thought I would never have a chance to know anymore. I shut myself off emotionally and carried on. Kingsman, especially Eggsy, needed me. Helping him accomplishing the vision you had for him was a way to keep you in my heart. Sometimes I dream of you proposing to me and us getting married somewhere beautiful in Scotland surrounded by our friends and I let myself indulge a little in that fantasy during the late hours at night before getting back to the missions in the morning. When we found you, you couldn't remember and then you did but not really, I was devastated but if you asked me to let you go, I would have."

"Please don't ever let me go. I won't let you go, Hamish. And it is not a fantasy anymore. I love you, I want to marry you and I'd do anything for you."

"I love you too, Harry", Merlin says, a tear rolling down his face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, Harry, you can kiss me."

Harry lifts his head up, cups Merlin's face with his hands and leans his face in closer, then Merlin meets him halfway. The kiss was full of love and longing and although no magic happens, Merlin's legs don't get magically healed, Harry is pretty sure it is True Love's Kiss.

Footnote:

Well yeah Hamish is a little easily persuaded but I would probably marry someone who gets me a rare expensive Batman action figure too. I chose the name Martin for Percival because I love Lywinis and bearfeathers stories so much, this is a little tribute.

[ellipsea]

dear diary

Fandom: The Raven Cycle Pairing: Gansey/Diary Rating: G Word Count: 1314 Summary: Gansey was dying.

Metaphorically. Hyperbole about such a thing had lost the potential to be a joke after his second death, probably. And despite Calla's incessant "Better with three!" hollering at him whenever he paid Blue a visit at 300 Fox Way, he wasn't ready for a third go-around.

Notes: inspired by @cabeswaterlovesthem and this post.

also on AO3

Gansey was dying.

Metaphorically. Hyperbole about such a thing had lost the potential to be a joke after his second death, probably. And despite Calla's incessant "Better with three!" hollering at him whenever he paid Blue a visit at 300 Fox Way, he wasn't ready for a third go-around. At least not until much, much later in his resurrected life.

No, Gansey was having an existential crisis because he had forgotten his diary at Monmouth Manufacturing, and now he had to survive a full day of classes at Aglionby without it.

He'd call it a journal to anyone else, but addressed the leather-bound booklet with the "diary" endearment each time he began his entries. He found it therapeutic, to talk to someone about the mess they'd pulled themselves out of last fall. It still contained old entries from his Glendower hunting days, and several sketches and poems endured as proof of what a wistful boy he was.

Still is a wistful boy, but he was back then, too.

Today, during his diary-less day, he fidgeted a ballpoint pen against his desk, elegant marbled casing thumping against the wood. It was a gift he'd received in a long black box from his father for Christmas. He considered switching it out for his calligraphy fountain pen, but didn't want to overuse the tip. Plenty of pages in his diary swirled with his slanted script, and the right pen was always so hard to find.

Maybe it was a blessing that he wouldn't be able to write a new entry today. His grades had been slipping, slightly — doodling in the margins of his diary and jotting down errant ideas for adventures sapped his attention from lectures. Often he spiraled in some less-than-productive thoughts about the nature of his humanity, questioning if existence qualified as sufficient realness, and he recalled that his previous entry looked much like this:

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I wonder if I am a real boy. I don't mean to plagiarize Pinocchio, but I was fundamentally remade by magic twice. It's a really valid question. Jane says that I am just like her now: part tree, to her kinetic delight. Oh, kin, get it? Just like her? Okay, well. Ronan says that I have always been part magic, but that particular lapse in hostility was likely due to his inebriation. Adam asks me how I'm doing, mostly. It's his lack of assumptions I appreciate most but also thinking too hard about what's in my own head makes me feel lost.

I still feel like me, though. Same contact lenses, same car keys, same wanderlust, but that part's bigger these days. More timeless. Can you want to adventure into the past, present, and future all at once? I think I've found a way. If all of your pieces are still intact, is the whole just the same? I think I'm in over my foresty head. Try to think of an answer for me next time, won't you?

Yours, sincerely, always,

Gansey (I hope)

The final bell rang. The classroom noisily transitioned into a rush of bags being packed, plans being made, shoulders jostled and hair rustled. Gansey sighed. He still had extracurriculars to attend, professors to speak to. Adam would be off to work for a few hours, so they couldn't accompany each other back to Monmouth, where they agreed they would both be studying until late —

"Gansey Boy!"

Boy, yes, that's what I am —

"Henry," Gansey replied brightly. "My good prince."

Henry's hair and smile defied laws of physics, but when he spied Gansey's pen spinning about agitated fingers, his expression turned more sympathetic. "All right there? Look like you've seen a ghost."

"I have," Gansey said. He set down the pen to clasp Henry's palm in greeting. "Just not today."

Club meeting running late, Gansey texted, hours later, phone tucked close to his chest. I'll have to miss dinner, unfortunately.

take your time dick

Flattered to have gotten a response at all, Gansey hastily typed back. He never corrected Ronan on his nomenclature anymore. Lost causes and Ronan Lynch were old friends.

Save me some wings, we should be done shortly.

no really take your time

Two texts from Ronan in under two minutes — normally, he would take his good fortune and run with it, but the itching nature of the day and the instant dismissal of his tardiness stirred Gansey's senses that something was up.

"Not sticking around?" Johnson said as the meeting adjourned, Gansey already heading for the door.

"We bought all these donuts," Geary added, thumbing behind him to the layers of pink boxes across the desks.

"I have a dinner to attend," Gansey said, waving them off politely. To the Aglionby student body, his excuse probably sounded more like I have to go dump a pound of caviar down my throat and I won't even taste it. But dinners at Monmouth were scrappier, greasier, appreciative hums and full-bellied laughs all through the night. They were Blue's head in Gansey's lap, her hand rubbing his thigh whenever she felt like it, Henry's jovial arm wrapped around Gansey's shoulder. They were Ronan's legs on top of Adam's legs and his hand in Adam's hair and Adam wearing the easiest smile Gansey had ever seen on him, and it twisted something so brightly happy inside of him that he had to look away.

Days were theirs to frivol away, curses and tomb-raiding and evil Latin teachers all behind them.

When he got to the parking lot it was quiet and dim, the air forgiving and still, and the sight of his orange automotive miracle was a combusting sunspot on the dull pavement. He couldn't wait to get back, to get home, to kiss Blue, to unravel today's cares into textbooks and takeout.

On the third turn of his keys, the Camaro roared to life, chugging helplessly before remembering what taking a breath felt like. Reliably unreliable, as always. He cranked down the window on the drive away from campus, wind billowing through his hair and easing his worries. It all seemed so right, when he was like this. Just him, his car, the open air and open road. Maybe he didn't need the security of a diary, of writing it all down, making it physical and permanent and fastidious. He could just be. Moving on, moving forward. That sounded grand to Gansey-the-forest, and Henrietta rolled in waves as he passed it on by.

No one knocked to enter Monmouth anymore. The door swing freely and welcoming on its well-worn hinges, and Gansey greeted the interior as he stepped through the threshold. "Hey, guys —"

Three heads whipped up when the door shut. Adam, wide-eyed and hunched, pressed into Ronan's side on the couch. That was familiar, that was normal. The two were usually seen at each other's side, and it no longer gave Gansey pause but delighted him, plain and simple, that his friends had found comfort in each other. Sometimes the four of them competed for gross levels of PDA, until Henry joined in on Gansey's and Blue's side and they inevitably won the contest. (In his modest opinion.)

Ronan himself looked like he had committed a crime, which was also normal. But Blue — oh, beautiful and miraculous and wild Blue — looked like his guilty co-conspirator. They were all huddled on the couch over an oddly familiar leather rectangle, and realization pitted in Gansey's stomach.

"Oh, no," he said, and dropped his bag to the floor.

For a moment, they just stared each other down. A standoff, where the first one to break would be the one blamed for the whole thing. Then Ronan began reading from the diary, in a bold and booming voice, "My beloved Glendower —" and Blue roared with laughter and Adam wheezed and fell off the couch.

All Gansey could think was that he'd accept his third death anytime.

[hisinfernalzombie]

  Dear Mother Sam, With my 20th birthday fast approaching, I’ve realised many things. I haven’t taken enough opportunities to tell you how much I love and appreciate you since I hit my teen years, especially those rocky few years where I was so horrible to you for no good god damn reason other than I was drinking and being an awful human. I never really thought about how much you’ve done for me and sacrificed for me until now. I see these things now because I am at a point in my life where I am starting to have to do the same things for those I love. We’re very alike, and if I think it sucks having to make sacrifices then you probably did too. But that’s the beautiful thing about a mother’s love. For that, I am forever thankful. We had a rough start to our lives as a family unit. You were a single, divorced, young parent in a time where it was still frowned upon and the government were only just starting to support that kind of family unit. You had to fight for everything. If there’s one thing I’m grateful to have inherited from you, apart from some great genes, it’s that stubborn strength. You never gave up or backed down in any situation, even when you were scared because that’s just the type of person you are. Still to this day, you are stubborn as hell and don’t take no for an answer. You still fight for everything you believe in and never let anyone tell you anything different. You still make decisions based on what is best for us as a family, not just yourself. Even though I’m not an adult and should be making many of those choices myself. I’ve seen you at your lowest moments and never once have I doubted your strength. You are the strongest person I know, not just the strongest woman.

So many people have negative opinions of young parents. You were 20 when you fell pregnant with me. A total accident, and in the 90’s that was still somewhat problematic. However, having a young parent was honestly such as blessing. When the majority of my friends have parents in their late 40’s or early 50’s, you only just hitting your 40’s is brilliant. You’re a tattooed woman, a pierced woman, a cultured and educated woman. You’re not oblivious to the struggles young people face because it wasn’t so long ago that you were in my shoes. And it hasn’t really changed all that much since you were my age. Although I know you have forever been criticised by your “liberal and soft” parenting skills by other older parents you had it spot on. I’ve never had a friend that didn’t say to me at some pint “I wish I had a mam like yours”. You’re a second parent to my closest friends, and I think they almost love you as much as they love their own mothers. You always let me be my own person, never pushing me to be someone I didn’t want to be or do things I didn’t want to do. You let me pick my clothes, decide what I wanted my hair cut like, what I wanted to read, what music I wanted to listen to. Prime example, you used to let me dress myself for nursery. The other parents had some opinions about this when their kids rocked up in perfect coordinated outfits and I waddled on in wearing a jumper and wellies in the height of summer. But that’s what I wanted to wear, so that’s what I wore. If I wanted to listen to Rob Zombie in the car at 5 then god damn it I did. The first time I wanted my hair cut short in primary school you knew I would hate it at the time, but you let me do it anyway because that’s what I wanted and it’s how I would learn what I like and what I don’t. Are comics a totally acceptable bed time story? Too right they are. When I wanted to join ballet, you knew I would hate it after a few weeks but you let me go anyone. Then when I threw up out of nervousness at a summer show you let me quit. Must have only been there a couple of months, and you bought me the full ballerina get up for it. Now I look back at all that wasted money and wonder how on earth you kept your cool. Bravo mother. Never agreed with the times you tied my hair up though. Even as a toddler I wasn’t a fan of all that faffing, but I commend you for trying to make my questionable appearance a little more adaptable.

Childhood was simplistic but oh so memorable. I grew up in a time when technology was starting to expand and grow rapidly, and all the kid’s I knew were bought these things in order to entertain them with no effort from parents or buy their love. Not us though. We still had a tiny TV with a handful of channels, a record player and imaginations. My favourite childhood memories are all wonderfully simplistic. Moving the dining room table, putting on a vinyl record (probably Abba or something, I don’t remember the music so much) and having dining room discos. Ever day on the walk home from school I would climb trees and find a “special thing” that you would incorporate into my story that night. We went fairy hunting and you told me I had them living in my bedroom so I used to make beds for them out of the padding in your bras (sorry about that). You told me garlic grew in men’s beards and the bigger the beard the more garlic you could harvest. You told me there was a troll that lived in a tunnel near the house and told me that my Stepdad and his brother were troll slayers. I thought they were the coolest people in the world for a while after that, but they also had beards so I was always garlic hunting. When I was obsessed with Polly Pocket you bought me the best advent calendar to date for Christmas. It had the Polly doll behind door 1, then gave you bits of outfits. But that wasn’t the end of it, oh no. You wrote tiny notes from Polly Pocket and hid them in my room at night for me to find in the morning. I had a whole dress-up box filled with all sorts of random clothing and questionable accessories. Possibly my favourite thing is that you were a parent ahead of your times. You said a massive “fuck off” to gender norms and stereotypes for kids, to gendered clothing and toys. If I wanted to wear boys clothing, you let me. It is just clothing. If I wanted a toy that was “meant for boys” you would let me have it if you could afford it, like that toy garage with the cars. I was more interested in climbing trees and getting dirty outside that going to Girl Scouts or dance classes like the other girls. You let me get absolutely filthy, let me play sports if I wanted, helped me climb those trees. When I dressed up as a builder in school as a kid, many parents raised an eyebrow because it was a “boy costume”. You loved it. I was never in a box based on my sex, and continue to reject that box now. You never told me I couldn’t do something because of my gender and that is so vital for a child. It’s meant I know no there’s nothing I can’t do if I want it bad enough to fight for it.

You never shied away from conversation topics many parents tend to dread. The sex talk was seemingly a walk in the park for you, you handed me a book (a very graphic and scientific book at that) about where babies came from then answered every question I could possibly answer. You were always good at that. When I got to the age of asking “why” all the time you would mostly give me a scientific factual answer instead of spouting nonsense. I never asked why grass was green again because you just confused my 4-year-old brain. You always educated me about the LGBTQ+ community and the issues they faced to the best of your ability. I’m glad I can now return the favour and educate you on modern LGBTQ+ issues now that I am part of that community and experiencing them first hand. When I started first questioning my sexuality, you were so unbelievably supportive. You would talk about anything and everything with me. You would tell me about world issues because you wanted me to be aware. You’d teach me about other cultures. You tell me about what it was like growing up in the army so I am aware of the ways other people live. You educated me on what a healthy relationship was, what was normal and acceptable, what to be careful about. Being so up front with me helped me so much. When guys tried to make a move that I wasn’t ready for, you had taught me how to say no and that it was okay to say no. When I would be upset over the fact boys had dumped me because I wouldn’t have sex with them, you would comfort me and tell me how strong I was and how proud of me you were. You made me aware of mental health issues so that when I hit 14 and started experiencing depression and anxiety I knew what was happening. It also meant I understood other people’s struggles and how to behave with them to help them. I don’t personally know many people who were brought up having such an understanding for these things as I did at such a young age.

When I started blooming into a little baby bat and had the dreaded phases, you were supportive. You told me when I looked like an idiot, which admittedly was most of the time, but you were still supportive of my expression. You took me to concerts, made me clothing to fit my 7 year old goth desires, gave me my first eyeliner which is a vital element of that iconic emo/scene phase I went through, bought me CD’s of bands I knew you really didn’t want to hear blasting through the house (Black Veil Brides and Brokencyde anyone?), gave me a hair straighter and didn’t question those god awful hair extensions. I do however apologise for the ungodly amount of hairspray I used in order to get the perfect swoopy fringe and teased bouffant, I put several holes in the ozone layer and made the house stink of Got2B Glued. When I wanted to start dying my hair in primary school, you let me. Again, this raised eyebrows among the stuffy parents but you had the brightest red hair known to man when I was a baby so it was only to be expected that I wanted hair like my mam at some pint. From year 4 onwards, my hair had purple highlights, was totally purple or red, and in year 6 I found the beloved “Midnight Blue” dye that gave me the nickname blueberry muffin among my friends. I first bleached my hair at 12 after months of begging. I wanted blue hair to further amplify the scene look. My love of coloured hair has never stopped. Although you hate me for dying the bathroom grout a multitude of colours I know you will never stop me changing it. I remember being asked, “How on earth did you manage to let your mam do that to your hair?!”. I just asked. Same with my piercings. When I started asking to get my nose pierced around the time I wanted the blue hair, you told me if I saved the money for it and did my research then I could do it. So that’s what I did. That was always the rule with any form of body modification, along with my hair changes that were as frequent as my mood changes. I had to do my research and pay for it myself with money I saved up. All my other friends were getting piercings and having to hide them or were forced to take them out as soon as they got home. Not you though. Never batted an eyelid. Hell, when I was 15 you blackmailed me into getting my second lip piercing because it annoyed you that my face was unsymmetrical. The only thing you ever fought me on was stretching my ears, but I did it anyway. I stretched my ear and let it close up a total of 3 times over the course of a few years. You accepted it when I was 17 though, and now both my lobes have 12mm holes in them that I honestly think I would look so odd without. You probably still hate them, but again you’ve always encouraged me to be my own person and express myself however I want. I wanted tattoos from a young age. I remember doodling designs I wanted when I was a toddler. You always told me once I was 18, if I had wanted the tattoo for over two years I could get it. You educated me on tattoos, the laws regarding them. When I came home at 15 and said my friend knew a tattoo artist that would tattoo a 16-year-old with parental consent, you told me something I will pass on to any children I may have in the future. “The law states you have to be 18 to get a tattoo. If an artist is willing to risk losing their licence just to make some extra money from tattooing an underage person, then they are not reputable artist and you shouldn’t be getting tattoos from them.” We got matching tattoos this year, something we had said we would do when I was a toddler. My first tattoo. I listened to at least one thing you said when I was a teenager. You’re a cool mam.

One thing I never expected when I came out was for people to say negative things to you. I don’t know why that never crossed my mind, but I guess when you come out you prepare yourself for all the struggles you’re going to face personally. That’s a luxury I had that I don’t think I gave you. I had time to mentally prepare myself for that, think about how I would handle certain situations. You didn’t get that time to prepare. You were throw in at the deep end. Much like when you became a parent in the first place I suppose. I never thought you would have people ask you if you were disappointed that you had a gay daughter, or say they were sorry I was gay as if they were saying they were sorry for the loss of your child. I never thought people would point fingers and “blame” you and your “liberal” parenting for me turning out gay. I never thought you could have lost friends over it. I didn’t you expect for you to have to fight for my identity and validity as a queer woman, I thought that would just be my fight. You’ve never once complained about it though. Thank you.

I am so lucky to have a parent who is so passionately supportive of me, who actively tells me they’re proud of me for everything I do, who encourages me to chase my dreams but also tells me that it’s okay to give myself a break, to relax and just enjoy life. You believe in me when I don’t, you tell me I’m capable when I don’t think I am, you listen to me when I need it most, you are a friend. I am so grateful to have the relationship we do, I know how lucky I am. Although we butt heads and get snappy with each other, I know I can always count on you to be there for me when I need you. I know you’ll be proud of me. I make sure I’m doing that every day. I love you so much, mam.

Yours, Steph x

An Open Letter to My Mother Dear Mother Sam, With my 20th birthday fast approaching, I've realised many things. I haven't taken enough opportunities to tell you how much I love and appreciate you since I hit my teen years, especially those rocky few years where I was so horrible to you for no good god damn reason other than I was drinking and being an awful human.

[gethealthy18-blog]

Behind Every No Of Our Mothers, There Is A Reason

New Post has been published on https://healingawerness.com/getting-healthy/getting-healthy-women/behind-every-no-of-our-mothers-there-is-a-reason/

Behind Every No Of Our Mothers, There Is A Reason

Shivani K Hyderabd040-395603080 August 6, 2019

Mom — this very word rings in all kinds of emotions in our hearts, doesn’t it? We all regard our moms to be the strongest of all humans out there. She’s the bonding film in the family. She’s also the foundation that plays a part in how we perceive life to be. But I had a very otherwise opinion about my mom. I still think that I’ve had the strictest mom in the entire world. I’m sure all of us at some point of time in our lives must have felt the same about our mothers too, right?

I remember how she used to say a blunt no every time I wanted to do a sleepover and even if she allowed me to go visit my friend’s place (girl-friend only) after school, she always wanted me to get back home by 10:00 p.m.

And trust me, every time she uttered “no,” I’d say this in my head, “I can’t wait to become an adult and do what you stop me from doing. And I’m going to let my kids do everything they want. I’ll never be a mom like you.” Now, when I’m in my early adulthood and assume that I’ve already lived half of my life and seen half of the world, I realize that mom was always right. Every “no” she uttered had her love, her care, and a reason entwined with it.

So here’s my understanding of why there was a reason behind every “no” that my mother uttered and stopped me from doing things in my life.

She Didn’t Want Me To Quit On Anything

I remember watching my friends learn instruments, and I begged and asked my mom to let me join one of the music classes that was teaching kids my age to play instruments. At first, she said a “no” although my consistent insistence made her permit me. But she put a condition that I cannot quit the class until I was done with my high school. At first, I wondered why she put that condition in front. After two months I realized that she said so, because she knew that once the novelty from my head would wear off, I might whine and quit the class. But the condition that she put forth made me attend the class no matter what. Slowly with time, I developed my passion for music. And now, in my life, music plays a very important role. It keeps me alive, it calms me down when I feel chaotic, I work better when music is being played in the background. And I still perform once in a while at selected gigs.

She Helped Me Be The Kid I Had To Be

In middle school, when most of my friends had boyfriends and used to walk hand in hand whenever we went to the park to play, I always wished I could do that! But my mom had clearly warned me that I cannot have a boyfriend until I started college. She said no dating, no holding hands, no kissing! Now, when I see other kids in their mid schooling years, I realized what she meant at that time. She just wanted me, her beloved kid to be a kid when I was supposed to be one. She wanted me to enjoy the innocence of being a kid and not get into relationships which are meant for the older generation because she knew that a relationship is not an easy thing to handle. It’s a whole lot of emotions that a kid cannot handle. I got to love my childhood in sheer innocence and enjoy every bit of it thanks to my mom.

She Taught Me What Work Hard Leads To

When all my friends were being gifted a car for their Birthdays when I was a teen, my mom made me work for it. She said she doesn’t have enough money to buy one for me. Although I knew for a fact that she did have the money to buy it because we were one of the most well-off families in town. I worked as an assistant to one of my professors in college and on weekends I would tutor school kids. I was asked to save all of that. And after two years, my mom took me to a car showroom and helped me buy a car. Trust me, I cannot express the happiness I felt as I had bought it with my own money. Working hard gives you unexpected gifts and satisfaction that no one else could ever give even if they’d gift the most luxurious things to you.

I always tell my mom that her firm rules are what made me what I am today. And when people say I’m a nice person, I always give credit to my mother. Mom, I can never be able to thank you enough for all the lessons you’ve taught me by saying a”no” to everything I asked for in life. I love you (hearts) (infinity).

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[dkehoe]

I have been following ZeZee’s blog for a while now and what keeps me coming back is the look, content, and her insightful reviews.  I have in fact bought a couple of books featured on ZeZee’s blog, which is the greatest compliment one blogger can give to another. If you haven’t checked out her blog, well what are you waiting for!!

ZeZee With Books

How did she answer my questions? Let’s find out!

Blogging is universal and even though we inhabit the same community, we don’t always live in the same country. What country do you live in?

I’m in the U.S. Right now, it’s my favorite season – summer – but not my favorite weather – hot, very humid, and sticky.

What is the view outside your front door?

Wide-sweeping manicured green lawns bordered by a bounty of blossoming flowers that lead up to brick-front, colonial-style houses that line streets of my neighborhood. It’s a beautiful scene to look at in the spring and autumn when the leaves start to change. Other than the nature outside my front door, it’s a pretty boring area ‘cause it’s the ‘burbs.

Most blogs have a quirky name and a fun story of origin. Please share the story behind your blogs name?

Erm…(a pause while I look at the blog posts where I talk about my blog’s name because I forgot why I named it so).

So…I don’t why I called myself Zezee. It’s not my real name. When I started blogging, I named my blog Zezee’s Link because I didn’t know then what my blog would be about. I just wanted to join the blogging community and share my thoughts on stuff. When I realized that my posts mostly focus on book-related topics, I decided to change my blog name to Zezee with Books.

…yeeaahh…still don’t know why I call myself Zezee on here other than I think the name sounds cool. It makes me think of zing-zing and zip and zoom-zoom!

Describe where you write your blog. 

I write in the most comfortable place — my bed. I wish I had a writing desk so I could write there. I think it would give me more structure and help me to focus better. I daydream a lot when writing in bed and easily get distracted by things – Facebook, Instagram, the funny patterns on my sheets.

Yup! I shall include a pic for this one. It’s the head of my bedstead that I lean against as I write. I use my pillows as back cushions.

Most of us have a stack of books sitting next to our couch or bed waiting to be read. What books are in your stack?

Well, I would have taken a pic but we recently completed a home-improvement project – changed carpets – so my room is a mess at the moment and my nightstand looks alien to me at the moment for all the random shit that’s on it, so instead here’s a pic of books I’m currently/recently completed and would have placed on my nightstand if I had access to it. That’s:

The Shape of Water by Guillermo del Toro and Daniel Kraus

Fool’s Fate by Robin Hobb

City of Saints & Thieves by Natalie C. Anderson

The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert

The Shape of Water by Guillermo del Toro

It is 1962, and Elisa Esposito—mute her whole life, orphaned as a child—is struggling with her humdrum existence as a janitor working the graveyard shift at Baltimore’s Occam Aerospace Research Center. Were it not for Zelda, a protective coworker, and Giles, her loving neighbor, she doesn’t know how she’d make it through the day.

Then, one fateful night, she sees something she was never meant to see, the Center’s most sensitive asset ever: an amphibious man, captured in the Amazon, to be studied for Cold War advancements. The creature is terrifying but also magnificent, capable of language and of understanding emotions…and Elisa can’t keep away. Using sign language, the two learn to communicate. Soon, affection turns into love, and the creature becomes Elisa’s sole reason to live.

But outside forces are pressing in. Richard Strickland, the obsessed soldier who tracked the asset through the Amazon, wants nothing more than to dissect it before the Russians get a chance to steal it. Elisa has no choice but to risk everything to save her beloved. With the help of Zelda and Giles, Elisa hatches a plan to break out the creature. But Strickland is on to them. And the Russians are, indeed, coming.

Developed from the ground up as a bold two-tiered release—one story interpreted by two artists in the independent mediums of literature and film—The Shape of Water is unlike anything you’ve ever read or seen.

Fool’s Fate by Robin Hobb

FitzChivalry Farseer has become firmly ensconced in the queen’s court. Along with his mentor, Chade, and the simpleminded yet strongly Skilled Thick, Fitz strives to aid Prince Dutiful on a quest that could secure peace with the Outislands—and win Dutiful the hand of the Narcheska Elliania.

The Narcheska has set the prince an unfathomable task: to behead a dragon trapped in ice on the isle of Aslevjal. Yet not all the clans of the Outislands support their effort. Are there darker forces at work behind Elliania’s demand? Knowing that the Fool has foretold he will die on the island of ice, Fitz plots to leave his dearest friend behind. But fate cannot so easily be defied.

The City of Saints and Thieves by Natalie C. Anderson

In the shadows of Sangui City, there lives a girl who doesn’t exist. After fleeing the Congo as refugees, Tina and her mother arrived in Kenya looking for the chance to build a new life and home. Her mother quickly found work as a maid for a prominent family, headed by Roland Greyhill, one of the city’s most respected business leaders. But Tina soon learns that the Greyhill fortune was made from a life of corruption and crime. So when her mother is found shot to death in Mr. Greyhill’s personal study, she knows exactly who’s behind it.

With revenge always on her mind, Tina spends the next four years surviving on the streets alone, working as a master thief for the Goondas, Sangui City’s local gang. It’s a job for the Goondas that finally brings Tina back to the Greyhill estate, giving her the chance for vengeance she’s been waiting for. But as soon as she steps inside the lavish home, she’s overtaken by the pain of old wounds and the pull of past friendships, setting into motion a dangerous cascade of events that could, at any moment, cost Tina her life. But finally uncovering the incredible truth about who killed her mother—and why—keeps her holding on in this fast-paced nail-biting thriller.

If you have had a bad day and want to spend an hour reading a book, what is your go-to genre or favorite book that will lift your mood?

Fantasy and most likely I’d reread a Harry Potter book. Fantasy provides a distraction from whatever is stressing me out and Harry Potter books always perk me up (the first to the fourth books).

When you aren’t blogging, how do you spend your time? Work, Play, School?

I’m either working or watching TV or at the movies or hanging out with family and friends or walking around the city checking out art museums or architecture or some random artsy event or, sometimes, a party.

What is your favorite blog post you’ve ever written? 

Oh, wow! Well. That’s a hard question that made my mind immediately go blank. Umm…well, my favorite posts are usually my Weekend Reads posts, which are discussion posts that include the books I’m currently reading. So of the Weekend Reads posts, I think my favorite is… “On Writing,” which is about my struggle to write, and (I couldn’t choose just one now that my brain has started working) “Hooked on Comics,” where I discuss my love of comics.

Have you ever met one of your favorite authors? If so, what did you say to them? Looking back, what do you wish you had said instead?

Well, I’m not one to try to meet authors because I’m a bit shy and don’t know what I’d say to my favorite author and am scared that I might embarrass myself by saying something rude, but I did meet Marlon James once and was over the moon that I got to meet him and get my book, A Brief History of Seven Killings signed (haven’t read it yet).

What did I say to him? Umm… I think it was “MARLON! Mi love yuh Book of Night Women and mi mek mi madda read it and she did love it too, but she tink it too violent and it mek her cry!” Then he said something along the lines of “ Well, she probably shouldn’t read this one.”

Marlon James is a Jamaican author. He won the 2015 Man Booker Prize with A Brief History of Seven Killings which is a fictional account of the attempt to assassinate Bob Marley.

 If you could sit down with an author for a slice of cake and a question, who is the author, what kind of cake would you serve, and what is the first question you’d ask?

At this exact the moment, the author I most want to sit down with is Robin Hobb. We will eat whatever cake she likes and I would ask her a bunch of questions about Fitz and the Fool and the world her Realm of the Elderlings series is set in and cross my fingers that she will answer them all. I’m totally hooked on her fantasy novels at the moment.

Oh my gosh ZeZee your answer on the question about meeting an author in person was hysterical! Then I got to what the book was about and I felt horrible for laughing! That does sound a bit serious… You and I share a love for Fantasy novels! I have not read Robin Hobb, but I think I may need to go on that fantasy journey!

I really enjoyed reading her answers, didn’t you? Which was your favorite?

Have you read any of these books? I’d love to know your opinion!

Thanks for reading Blogger to Blogger!

Deb

Blogger to Blogger Series: An Interview with ZeZee from ZeZee With Books I have been following ZeZee's blog for a while now and what keeps me coming back is the look, content, and her insightful reviews.