#and his own inability to get over it hahaha

[gildinbainas]

❝ i know what you're thinking. ❞ // Hendrik @ Thrand

MISC SENTENCE STARTERS WITH A DASH OF ANGST

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @nvrcmplt

He had done well to avoid Hendrickson during the day although truth be told, it wasn't all that difficult. Hendrickson spent a majority of the time with his people and there were times when he would vanish for weeks on end. Their tribe was nomadic in nature and so Thranduil never really expected them to return except… Except despite the fact that several months had passed between the last time of visit, a member of the Elvenguard retrieved him well into the night to let him know the tribe was back within the forests of Mirkwood. It had Thranduil leaving the confines of his bed to make his way into the throne room. There stood Hendrikson at the foot of the king's throne waiting patiently for the king's arrival.

Thranduil was taken aback, even more so when the half elf approached him. Reaching for his hand, Thranduil watched as he pressed lips to each knuckle and were he not practiced with the task of deadpanning and feigning ignorance of feelings, he may have allowed such a gesture to fluster him more than he let on. Their gazes remained locked with each tender brush of lips against smooth knuckles that could fool anyone meeting him for the first time. Where a normal man's hands might show the wear and tear from time or war, his own hands remained void of such telling signs. They remained as smooth as the day he was brought into this world.

He opened his mouth to speak yet closed it just as quickly. He knew not what to say though he was rather curious as to why a tribe of nomads would return to this place after so long. The question was burned into his mind and remained on the tip of his tongue even as the table nearby gave a momentary flashback of their last encounter. He drew in a subtle breath, but was spared speaking by the words that befell Hendrikson's lips.

"I know what you're thinking."

Thranduil's expression remained unchanged as he watched the other. Hendrikson eventually motioned for the Elvenking to join him at the table. There was a moment's hesitation, but more so due to the flashback he experienced just by looking at the table. Even so, he made way to the table, taking a seat quietly. After dismissing the other guards, he turned curious eyes to Hendrikson awaiting an explanation.

[whimsyfinny]

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader, eventual smut

Warnings: language, mention of drugs

Chapter Word Count: 2330

—-MDNI—-

A/N: wooooop new series! I'm trying something new with this one! As a mom myself I loooove reading mom!reader fics, so I wanted to write my own. It's a slightly shorter first chapter, but the following ones should be longer. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, reading your comments makes my day ❤��� and of course, this is proofread only by myself so pls pls let me know of any errors! I really hope you enjoy it. I also didn’t write this at 2am for once so brownie points to me hahaha

Photos from Pinterest

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Chapter 1

“Come on, (Y/n)! You have to tell me all about it! What was he like? Did you kiss? Hold hands? Where did he take you?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the rapidfire questions spewing from Kats mouth. Kat, the stunner sat opposite me with perfect dark skin and the inability to have a bad hair day, was my closest friend. We lived on the same street, drank at the same bar and both hated this small, slightly judgemental town equally. We bonded over the similarities in our lives - like both of us having fallen pregnant at a young age and being dealt the hand of having to raise our kids as single parents. Life was fucking hard sometimes (well, nearly all the time), but my son, Levi, and Kat, made this life worth living.

“Jesus Christ, ok! The date was ok.”

“Uh oh. ‘Ok’? That means it was awful, right?” she raised an eyebrow.

I took a gulp of my coffee.

“The date was ok. But he was…. Seriously not my type. He was too…perfect?” I winced as the words left my mouth, fully aware of how utterly ridiculous that sounded.

“Girl, ‘too perfect’? What the fuck kind of excuse is that?” Kat snorted slightly into her latte.

“I know, I know. But he reminded me of a Ken doll, ya’know? With his white jeans and his Armani sweater over his shoulders - that’s not really… me. The dude gets more manicures than I do. Plus he drives a Fiat Panda. Levi wouldn’t be caught dead getting in and out of one of those.”

“You can’t use your sons taste in cars to dictate the men in your life. That’s a low blow and you know it.”

“Ok then, you go out with Robert and tell me about all the kale facts that you never wanted to learn.” I leant back on the couch, clutching my coffee with both hands to bring some warmth to my fingertips. Kat did the same opposite me, leaning back in the plush armchair as we both took a second to glance out of the large café windows. This was our happy place, right here. It was the place we would come to when we first met and the boys were still in diapers. It was our happy place for the last nine years, and we would come here for every situation: be it a breakup, a catch-up, to discuss terrible sexual encounters or dire situations that need insane back-up plans. But we mostly came here to people-watch. Being the young, single moms that we were, we were constantly under the scrutiny of the small town, having every decision judged by the perfect Jeep-driving soccer moms and the old ladies from church. When we came here, to sit by this window in these comfy-as-fuck couches, it was our turn to do a little judging.

“Vicki Priestley isn't fooling anyone with those sunglasses,” I said, taking another sip of coffee as I watched the thin peroxide blonde across the street repeatedly wipe her nose with the back of her hand.

“Right? We get shunned for…well… fuck all, yet that Paris wannabe can snort coke on a Tuesday school run and everyone turns a blind eye? What a joke.”

“Amen to that,” we watched her for a few more seconds as she climbed behind the wheel of some monstrous four by four and sped off down the road.

“Did you hear that Mrs. Harris caught Mr. Harris with a young mistress? Apparently she works at the bank.”

“Oh my GOD yes I heard!” Kat exclaimed, leaning forward, “and as revenge she put Nair in his shampoo - he's completely hairless, even his eyebrows are gone.”

We both snickered as we raised our mugs.

“To Mrs. H for taking no shit.”

Conversation flowed as topics ranged from the new dessert parlour that opened last week down the road to the extortionate price of kids' Motocross gear.

“I mean the bikes are so tiny, why do they have to cost that much?”

“You're preaching to the choir babes, Toby just outgrew his boots for the third time this year,” Kat grimaced at the thought of how much money she'd spent already.

“Ouch, they're like what? Eighty bucks a pair?”

“Yup.”

“Yeah well, I had to get Levi a new helmet after that little dickhead from the tournament last month crashed into the side of him. That boy was more upset about the stickers he lost than the bruises he got,” I shook my head with a smile on my lips. Kat did the same.

“That's a tough kid you've got there.”

I sighed.

“Yeah I know. Despite never having met him, he's so much like his dad. It's a little concerning actually,” I laughed nervously, instantly regretting bringing up Levi’s father in front of Kat. I glanced up at her, taking a sip of my coffee in an attempt to hide behind the mug. The wiggling of her eyebrows being an indicator of her impending wrath.

“That man is the reason why you’re never satisfied with your dates. He set that bar waaaay too high.”

I scoffed. “He did not. We were young and he just swept me off my feet a bit, that’s all; with that ‘give ‘em Hell’ attitude and handsome face. Plus he had a great car.”

“Last time you said his face was ‘gorgeous’,” Kat cupped her face and fluttered her eyelashes, puckering her lips. I threw a sugar packet at her which she batted right back at me.

There was a moment of quiet as we both looked out the window again, my mind unable to stop itself from racing through old memories.

“Do you think he’ll ever come calling?” Kat asked, some sincerity to her tone. I sighed and slumped back further on the couch.

“I highly doubt it. He doesn’t even know that Levi exists. I tried calling him a few years back but some guy John W. had that number instead. I gave up after that. Plus, he had this kinda dangerous job, and normally if he showed up it was because something was going to go down,” I paused, looking into the dark liquid in my cup, “It’s probably a good thing that he hasn’t just shown up.”

“You say that, but you still have that photo you took together on your vanity.”

I shot her a look, pursing my lips and pinching my brows as she laughed, knowing she'd stumped me there. I quickly downed my coffee and checked my watch before standing and grabbing my bag.

“Come on, let's stop interrogating me and go pick up the boys before all Hell breaks loose at the track.”

“Mom it wasn't my fault, I swear.”

I slammed the car door closed and turned to the boy who stood close enough to be my shadow.

I turned around to face him with a stern expression, “so you did do it? After I called that boys mom a liar? LEVI.”

Levi, my son, looked close to tears, his bottom lip trembling.

“Mom, I'm so sorry! I'll never do it again!”

I narrowed my eyes at him before sighing, already exasperated, throwing the car keys into my bag.

“Did you at least stick to the golden rule?”

His answer was a vigorous nod, the tremble in his lip disappearing.

“‘Never throw the first punch; throw the second and finish the fight,’” he recited the words like a prayer.

“And…?”

“‘Always claim self defence.’”

I smiled and ruffled his soft brown hair.

“Good boy. What started the fight anyway?” I asked, guiding him to walk through the parking lot towards that new dessert parlour.

“He said I was weird for not having a dad.”

I looked down at him, eyes softening and I lifted a hand to rub his shoulder. It wasn't the first time he'd had this argument, and it likely won't be the last. Kids can be assholes. “And then he hit me when I said ‘at least my mom's boobs are real.’”

“Levi!” I stopped in my tracks and looked at him, mortified. I didn't even know where to start with that one. “Where-”

“Jamie from math class told me what ‘implants’ were… and he said that Brad's mom had them.”

He looked up at me innocently, and I knew then that he didn't fully grasp what he'd said to Brad - the kid he'd just punched between the eyes. I sighed for the umpteenth time and started walking again.

“Whatever, just… don't say that to anyone again, ok? You're gonna make me look like a terrible parent.”

“Ok mo- whoa! Look at that car!” It was Levi's turn to stop dead in his tracks as he stood in awe of the sleek black car parked by the sidewalk.

A black Chevy Impala.

“Oh wow,” my words came out slightly breathless, my mind suddenly racing to him and the conversation I'd had with Kat earlier that afternoon.

“So cool!” Levi gushed, walking up close to it but not close enough to touch.

“Yes, very cool. Now let's go inside before they run out of ice cream,” I ushered him to the door, reflexively looking over my shoulder, not knowing if I even wanted to see who could possibly be in the area.

The bell jingled as we walked in and Levi ran up to the counter, pressing his forehead to the glass. My eyes scanned the menu and I was pleasantly surprised to see they served coffee.

“What do you fancy kiddo?” I ruffled his hair again and waited for him to decide, and it wasn't long before he'd made up his mind. After ordering, we headed towards a small table-for-two at the edge of the room, and as Levi slumped down in his chair something familiar caught my attention.

A voice.

My heart quickly became erratic in my chest and my palms grew sweaty. I looked in the direction the voice had come from and was met with a slap in the face from memory lane.

There he was; the same wicked grin and mischievous eyes that had burned themselves into my memory. He dressed the same as he did nine years ago - right down to the necklace and leather jacket. He was engrossed in a conversation with another man, who looked slightly younger than himself, all whilst digging into a stack of waffles.

“Mom?”

The sound of Levi's voice snapped me out of the stunned fog I was caught up in and I quickly sat down, trying my best to focus on my son and not the man who was sitting only a few feet behind him. Levi looked like he was about to ask another question when a giant chocolate sundae and a coffee appeared at the table. I heard the waitress challenge Levi to finish the whole thing, but it was like I was listening to the world through water. My mind wouldn't stop racing. He's here. Do I talk to him? Will he remember me? Do I tell him about Levi? I hurriedly pulled my phone from my bag and sent her a hasty message before turning back to the boy in front of me, convincing a smile to appear on my lips.

“If you have room in that black-hole stomach of yours then you definitely could've finished your veggies earlier at dinner.”

He smirked slightly, like he always did when he knew he was getting away with murder, and it almost took my breath away. I saw the same smirk grace the lips of the man in the booth behind him. The mans gaze shifted to the side and when his eyes met mine - the same vibrant twists of green and gold that I have tattooed on my memory - I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart leaping in my chest as I tore my eyes away. I clutched my coffee cup, staring intently at the dark swirling liquid, praying to anyone or anything that I'd find the answers to my troubles in the bottom of this mug. The prickling on my skin was unshakable, like his eyes were on me and I was trapped under his intense observation, unable to breath. Minutes felt like hours, and eventually he and his companion stood before heading to the door. The moment they were gone with the bell signalling their departure, the air gushed from my lungs as I dropped my head into my hands, earning myself a confused look from my son. I offered him a reassuring smile which he accepted before returning to shovelling ice-cream into his face.

Just when I thought I was safe, I looked up and locked eyes with him. Our eyes locked through the window just as he opened the car door, leaning on it. It was like time froze, and for a few moments, despite my earlier urgency to not make eye contact, I was now unable to look away. My breath caught in my throat as a smirk pulled at his lips before he ducked down into the driver's seat, slamming the car door closed. I found myself chewing on my bottom lip as he tore out of the parking lol, that familiar rumble of the engine practically rattling the windows and, despite the noise, it was a comforting sound.

Once they were out of sight and the impala could no longer be heard, I sighed, pushing my hair off my face and running my hands through my hair. As Levi polished off the last of his ice-cream, my phone buzzed on the table. Opening it and reading the message, a small wave of relief washed over me as Kat confirmed that Toby would be at his dad's for once so she could come over to drink wine and discuss very important topics. She hasn't got a clue what I need to vent about yet, but I feel like tonight is going to be a very long night.

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Next Chapter: Chapter 2

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @megara0224 @libby99hb @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung @king-of-milf-lovers @xshortputax @jerksbitch @multifandoms-saidwhat @deans-baby-momma @writersxxx

[kevin-ibw]

PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOYR HAZBIN AU

So Vox is an angel, does that change anything about him on an emotional level ? (Like when he sees religious imagery, does it make him feel anything ‘inexplicably’?) Does his one sided rivalry with Alastor stay the same ? What’s the relationship like between the three Vs? Whatre his thoughts on Velvette’s church?

Angel’s in charge of the family mafia huh? So he must be pretty powerful… Does Val still have power over him or are they on more equal footing ?

So Vox is an angel, does that change anything about him on an emotional level ? (Like when he sees religious imagery, does it make him feel anything ‘inexplicably’?)

- Any mentions of religious imagery, especially christianity, make him a bit.. twitchy, but never the less, it doesn't bother him as much.

Vox can often come off as one; "oblivious" to the fact that he's an angel It essentially became a rule in hell to not mention that fact around him. Two; "passive," but everyone associated with him knows it's a bunch of horseshit and loves to mess with people once they realize it.

Does his one sided rivalry with Alastor stay the same?

- There's still a rivalry, albiet for different reasons.

Alastor: "People always say that I strike fear in everyone's soul, *cue laugh track* Hahaha! If only I knew what it felt like, correction if only I knew what anything felt like anymore! *cue laugh track*"

One of Hell's punishments that was inflicted on Al was the inability to feel anything because he was enjoying his time a serial killer a little too much. Because of this, he becomes severely bored years to come since what's the point in causing a lot of chaos when you can't feel anything from it? Now, don't get me wrong, he's still a heavily feared overlord, but now he's just so bored with a lot of things in Hell.

But then Vox came along. He essentially puts dread in everyone's stomachs because it's very likely he's a one-way ticket to getting yourself permanently killed without a cleanse happening. Alastor actually gets intrigued by him and thus starts their rivalry, it focus less on. "Radio vs TV" and more on, "He's very dangerous and could end me for good, he's the only one the peaked my interest and perhaps maybe give me the ability to feel fear."

Sure, there are exorcists, but all of them evenually leave anyway, too squirmy and skitterish for Alastor's taste.

But Vox just strides in everywhere like he owns the place, without even a little smidge of fright and treats everything like a game.

What’s the relationship like between the three Vs? Whatre his thoughts on Velvette’s church?

- Vox & Valentino: Both have been married for fifty years and it's still counting, as seen in the show it's implied that Vox has to calm down Val a lot of the time when he has a temper, this AU switches that. SHAU!Val isn't dumb enough to let Vox's temper get the better of him, because how knows what would happen if there's a pissed off angelic overlord. (Thank the lord it doesn't happen often.)

OG!Vox butters up OG!Val

SHAU!Val does it instead

OG!Val intentionally withheld information about Alastor coming back so he could push OG!Vox's buttons

SHAU!Val doesn't even entertain the idea

Yeah, Val can be a bit trigger happy, but he's not outright suicidal.

Valentino & Velvette: Both of them hold each other in high regard but aren't as close with one other since Val doesn't focus much on social media. Valentino is a very direct guy. The only Voxtagram posts you're getting from him are photos of sinners with holy bullets in their skulls as a warning to whoever crosses him. Velvette and her little cult of followers take a step further to spread the message, too. Essentially, she's on top when it comes to information around social media.

Velvette & Vox: Both being tech savvy, they get along quite well. While Vox controls all of the internet and anything tech in hell, he's more focused on the business side of things and selling products, when a new product sells, Velvette makes it so the message spreads further.

Angel’s in charge of the family mafia huh? So he must be pretty powerful… Does Val still have power over him or are they on more equal footing ?

Since the church is used a ploy to lure more sinners into their power, Vox finds a lot of assumentment in it and often times indulges in entering the church to heighten her claims and further reel sinners in.

If anyone wants more info, please send an ask! :)

- Sadly, Angel is still under a contract with Val, fortunately though they more-or-less have respect for each other. Angel finds it hilariously ironic that he's right-hand man to a moth when he's the spider here.

[coffeebanana]

Summary

If a little dancing can help Ladybug de-stress, Adrien doesn't mind if she doesn't know all the steps.

Written for the @ladrienjune prompt "slow dance." Posted early because I have no self-control 😂.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut!

...

At the sound of Ladybug crashing into something—the foosball table, as it turned out—Adrien set down his pen and swivelled around in his desk chair, watching as she rubbed her hip and returned to pacing around his room. She'd shown up twenty minutes ago, insisting she didn't want to distract him from finishing his homework once she'd realized he was working on it, and had then started wandering around like she might implode if she stopped.

He'd let her be for a while—experience told him that sometimes she just needed to get something out of her system. But at this point, he doubted whatever was bothering her was something she'd manage to walk off.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, almost crashing into the sofa as well. And under other circumstances, Adrien might have smiled. He loved every side of this girl who’d long ago stolen his heart. Her inability to walk straight was no exception.

(“Besides,” she would say if he teased her about it, “what kind of bisexual would I be if I walked straight?”

And Adrien would follow up with some joke about how he should stop walking in runway shows if that was a qualification for being bi.)

But today didn't feel like the time for jokes.

“W-what?” she said.

He shrugged, following her lead when she glanced away—he didn’t want her to feel overwhelmed. But he missed having her in his line of sight—even when he’d been finishing up his math problems he’d been able to see her reflection on his darkened computer screen. So he quickly shifted his eyes back to her, smiling when he noticed she was watching too.

“Whatever’s on your mind.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t say…”

“I know. I could just…tell.”

“Ugh.” She made a face as she slumped down on the couch’s armrest, falling back against the cushions a second later. “I’m the worst company today, aren’t I? Sorry. I can go if I’m too much of a distraction.”

“No!” Adrien shouted, loud enough that Ladybug sprung back to a sitting position, bracing herself on the back of the couch. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to shout, I just...well, I don't want you to go. I love it when you visit, and I’m almost done with my homework anyways. It just seems like…maybe you’re upset about something?”

Ladybug stood, fiddling with her hands as she slowly made her way towards him. She stopped beside him, and for a second he—foolishly—hoped she might sit in his lap. Instead she leaned against the edge of his desk, tracing a finger over the numbers and variables he'd inked into the page.

"I'm not...upset, exactly," she said. "More like...stressed. But it's no big deal." She shrugged. "Just life stuff."

She sent him a somber smile—the kind that had I'm trying to tell you I'm fine—totally FINE! But actually I'm coming apart at the seams HAHAHA written all over it. Adrien knew it well. But he hated seeing it on someone he loved.

"Is there any way I could help?" he asked.

"I mean, if you could take down Shadow Moth, that would be great."

"No problem!" He smiled. "Be right back."

Committed to the bit, Adrien was steps away from his bathroom when a giggle cut him off. "Are you hiding him in the shower or something?"

"Psssh. No! I was trying to fake a dramatic exit."

"Through the bathroom? Were you going to jump out the window? Slide down the drain?"

"Actually, there's a secret passageway behind the mirror."

"Wait. Really?"

He laughed. "No. But good to know you believe me so easily."

"Pfft. That was the last time, Agreste."

"Uh-huh..."

Still grinning, Adrien made his way back to the desk. When he got there, he rolled the chair away in favour of leaning against the desk beside her. He wasn't bold enough to sit so close that their hands would brush, but he was rewarded anyways when Ladybug leaned her head against his shoulder. Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. Or ten.

He wanted to say something else, but he didn't dare disturb the moment.

"I just have so much to do," she said. "But it's all stuff I have to wait for. Like, I'm organizing an event for my class at school, but nobody's getting back to me about what they can bring. And I promised my parents I'd help them install some new shelves, but the order keeps getting delayed. And then there's Hawk Moth, who could strike at any time. And like...the only things I could probably get started on are a few projects for school. Except those aren't due for at least a few more days, so I can't seem to make myself actually start them, and so I keep just playing things over and over in my head, trying to figure out what activity I'm going to slot in when, but there's no good answer, and ugh. I have fifteen kwamis in my room, including one I could use to see the future, but then, like, that might" —her next words were encased in bunny ears— "mess up the timeline."

She sighed, hands slumping back to her sides. "Which really means that none of the superpowers at my disposal are actually helpful, and it's just...I feel like I'm never going to get anything done, which is stupid, I know, but..."

She finished by standing up—Adrien immediately missed her warmth at his side—and throwing her hands up in frustration while she made some indecipherable noise. Then her eyes locked on his and widened, like she'd only just remembered he was there.

"I don't think it's stupid," he said gently. "I think...it's amazing you do all that and still manage to be as wonderful as you are."

His words seemed to have the opposite effect as intended, making her shoulders slump. "But I'm not wonderful. I snapped at my best friend today, and at my cru—uuuh...at my other friend." She started pacing again. "And now I'm dumping all my problems on you, and you probably think I'm crazy, and you'll never invite me back here, and..."

She listed a few more things Adrien couldn't quite make sense of—something about kids and hamsters?—but he didn't think the words were really for him anymore. Unable to watch her keep spiraling, he stood and walked over, stopping her mid-sentence by setting his hands on her shoulders.

"Hey," he said. "I'm sure everything will turn out okay."

Her gaze dropped to her feet. "Maybe..."

"Definitely."

She only sighed in response.

Adrien debated his next words carefully. Part of him wondered if he was secretly being selfish considering his next question—the idea was definitely thrilling to him. But if he were in her position, he was pretty sure it was what he would want someone to ask, even if he weren't in love with that someone. And he probably didn't have much to lose.

"Would you like a hug?"

Her eyes shot back up to his, gleaming with some emotion that sent a thrill through him. Then she nodded, and Adrien wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her.

Of course she fit well there—he'd hugged her enough as Chat Noir to know that. But he wasn't expecting the way she practically melted into his embrace, or the way his heart rate skyrocketed when her breath ruffled his T-shirt. She smelled of something sweet and floral—he'd ask her what shampoo she used if that weren't so creepy. And even the way the ends of her pigtail brushed against his arm when she turned her head was a tiny bit of ecstasy he was certain he'd remember for the rest of his life.

But the hug wasn't about him

"Do you feel better?" he asked maybe a minute later, rubbing a hand down her back. She didn't answer, so he pulled back and searched her expression. "Ladybug?"

Her face crumpled. "No. I still can't stop thinking about everything. And you're being so nice, which must make me awful, and—"

"It doesn't," he assured her. "You're still incredible."

That time, his compliment earned him a tiny smile.

"Maybe you just need a better distraction," he said, before he had to watch that smile fade. "We could...play some mecha strike?"

She shrugged, shaking her hands at her sides. "I feel too...jittery to sit down."

"Ah. Okay. I guess that means a movie's out of the question."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, I promise. We'll figure something out." Adrien bit his lip, looking around the room. So much stuff, but none of it was useful. Then an idea popped into his head that tugged a smile onto his face. "We could...dance?"

Ladybug laughed. "I can't even walk without running into something, and you want me to move other parts of my body at the same time?"

"So, we'll slow dance then. No way you mess that up."

She snorted. "No, but I can totally hurt you when I step on your feet twelve thousand times."

"Twelve thousand? That would actually be impressive."

She laughed again, then sobered. "But do you really...do you want to dance with me?"

Suddenly nervous, Adrien resisted the urge to scratch the back of his neck. Instead he reached out his left hand, trying to project confidence despite the flutters that rippled through him when he noticed her cheeks redden. "It would be my honour."

Taking a deep breath, Ladybug reached for his hand. Adrien followed up by taking a half-step closer and hesitantly settling his free hand on her waist. After that, she seemed at a loss with what to do with her other arm, but she slowly bent her elbow and placed a hand on his chest. Instinct—from lessons he'd taken years ago—told him she should technically put her hand a little higher, but he pushed those feelings aside, trying his best to focus on nothing but her.

That wasn't exactly hard when her eyes found his.

"S-see?" he said, a little breathless. "You're already a pro."

She bit her lip, unable to conceal her smile. "We're not even moving yet."

"Well, that's not so hard either." He took a small step back. "Just one step after the other."

"One after the other," she repeated in a whisper, lowering her gaze as she followed his first step.

They went on like that for a while, in small slow steps, eventually building up some semblance of rhythm. Ladybug started humming some song at some point—one with 4/4 timing that didn't at all work for the waltz he'd been counting in his head. But somehow that made the moment even more perfect, like how when she finally stopped paying so much attention to each step, she giggled every time she stumbled into him.

She was finally smiling, and nothing else mattered

"Thank you," she whispered against his chest when they got tired of actual dancing and ended up swaying slowly behind by the window. "I feel better now."

Lost in the moment, Adrien didn't even think before bending down to kiss her head. "Me too, my lady."

...

Thanks for reading!! 💜

[lovelynim]

Hi, I’m rushing this because I need to get ready for work and don’t wanna lose my train of thought, so apologies if it’s incoherent:

Alhaitham didn’t have many friends growing up, so Tighnari, Cyno, and Kaveh are his first friend group. Since he didn’t really have friends, he didn’t really do many social activities and his first time drinking (and getting stoned heh) are with them (I also think he’d be the youngest so less experiences in general). He’s not really nervous about drinking but still a bit reluctant at first when they offer him a drink, but Kaveh offers him a sip from his cup because he prefers mixed drinks and it’ll help ease Alhaitham into it rather than taking straight shots like Cyno and Tighnari are doing next to them (idk if you remember from Alhaitham’s demo but there’s a good chance he took a sip from Kaveh’s drink before ordering his own, so I like to think this habit stemmed from Alhaitham’s first time drinking hehe). Anyway, Alhaitham knows what alcohol does to the body, so he thinks he’s mentally prepared and takes a sip from Kaveh’s cup and decides “hm this actually isn’t so bad” and has one made for himself and ends up drinking it all. However, this is his first time drinking, so he’s unprepared for how alcohol will really affect him and his inhibited senses and inability to form proper thoughts start to make him panic a little and for the first time, the group gets to see a nervous Alhaitham. Kaveh’s immediately at his side, though, because he feels partially at fault for this and is trying to get Alhaitham to drink water and stuff. Anyway, Kaveh decides that maybe he should just take Alhaitham home (or to his dorm whatever they have at the Akademiya) and so he does and he doesn’t want to leave Alhaitham alone in such a state, so he stays and decides that he’s gonna sleep on the floor, but Alhaitham is like “just share the bed with me it doesn’t mean we’re gay” so they’re cramped in this tiny twin sized bed and drunk Alhaitham is clingy as Kaveh finds out and Alhaitham is unintentionally tickling Kaveh with his hands all over him and Kaveh is like “okay well how do you like it” and drunken tickle fights or something akskakaksks idk you can fill out the rest

SORRY FOR BRAINEOTTING IN YOUR INBOX THAT WAS A LOT

HOLY THAT WAS SO GOOD

No but alhaitham personality taking a whole 180 when he is drunk ahahaha

Kaveh at first would try to be a good senior and just pin his junior's hands away or stop him, but alhaitham kept poking and tickling him so at some point he just snapped and decided to tickle him back

But now we have tipsy (but somewhat sober) kaveh and drunk alhaitham having a tickle fight and the next morning their bedroom is looking like a war zone hahaha

[alphabetboyluvr]

Sooooo, we have 3 JKs: Throttle JK, BD JK and You up? JK…

Whom do you think real JK could get along with?👀

And what about the relationship between these three? Would they be able to get along?🤔🥰

FANTASTIC QUESTION

I think (from our own warped perception of him) he's most similar to bd!jk and I don't think real jk would like that, like I think it'd put him on edge because he'd be so confused by it hahaha

as for you up? jk, I think real jk would empathise but also be frustrated with his inability to communicate.

I think he'd likely get on the best with throttle jk!! they're both strong-willed, have convictions, could bond over boxing... maybe less so over the organised crime and cocaine but that's neither here nor there haha.

as for the three of them? bd!jk would detest you up? jk lmao. throttle jk would hate the other two because the other two have it EASY in comparison to him and yet they're still unable to be with the girl they love and it would piss him awffff. I think above anything else, they'd remind each other of their flaws and for that reason they absolutely would not be able to be friends haha

[besiwoo]

besides, i love an underdog story. someone you don't expect to win, winning. things like that.

it feels like a fucking ear worm, stuck in siwoo's brain from how many times it's been replayed over and over. the night of the final episode, the win, the overwhelming surge of emotions that had gone through him, resulting in a spontaneous kiss and the things that had unfolded after.

his feelings have never been very much tamed, if anything, siwoo had just gotten good at running from them – sprinting so far that he would only ever come face to it when he'd make another lap on the course of his emotions. but that night he'd fallen, tripped and fucked himself over and everything soon began to catch up. his feelings, his past, his choices. fuck – he feels horrible. and he'd been feeling horrible for days now.

it isn't a migraine, but siwoo just says it is when he's around jay. he's tried, hard, not to think about it too much. he's ryu siwoo after all, he'd spent years pretending to be someone he wasn't – and maybe he could pretend that none of this affected him. at least, he tried to. and yet that had resulted in an argument, one of the few rare instances where he and jay would raise their voices at each other.

it seemed as though in his attempt to avoid an argument, siwoo had fallen into his habit of masking himself, of not being honest. and jay hated that.

( "fuck it, just forget it jay. it's stupid, you'd think it's stupid."

“yeah, right, whatever. it’s stupid! you’re stupid. fuck you. so much for being a best friend, you can’t even tell me any of this shit.” )

he sighs. his head is starting to hurt again. siwoo is no stranger to arguments. but this, this was different. this was an argument where he knew there'd be no loser or winner, an argument that had stemmed from siwoo's fucking inability to swallow the bile down his throat. he glances over to jay, and then back to the script at hand. he's barely reading it, only skimming through the words.

this is stupid, siwoo thinks. it's fucked up. he needs to get over it, quickly.

but jay doesn't help. it doesn't help when he starts speaking with so much familiarity, as though the only person to truly understand siwoo ( he is ). siwoo's eyes fall from his script to jay and he smiles. it's a reflex, he can't help it – even if his head feels like shit. again, he pushes the feelings down his throat. they don't exist, he tells himself, they don't.

"oh, this one?" he looks at the title and nods. "yeah, it was pretty popular. a family friend invested in it actually," he continues nonchalantly.

he takes a seat next to jay, and leans, resting his shoulder against the boy's – the concept of personal space gone. "fuck you. i don't swear that much," but siwoo is laughing because it's true. now with next gen over, siwoo's fallen back into his old habit of swearing up and down. "this guy is so fucking melodramatic, but yeah. i guess i do say i like you when i confess. haven't done it in a while though," he adds, and instinctively, he takes the pen away from jay's lips, "that's dirty," he says, but he places it between his own lips and begins to chew on it, as if in thought as he goes through the lines.

he doesn't actually read the script line by line though, but he doesn't want to spend too much time dwelling on a scene anyway. "sure, let's go with this then." a confession scene, how fucking apt, siwoo thinks – so soon after he'd just barely laid his heart out for jay.

( "jay, you're my reason hahaha. you're not just my best friend. and that's the fucked up thing, i think."

"let it fuck you up like how you fucked me up." )

he sighs and rubs his head. he'll need to take something for this later. "okay, so where should we start? i get the asshole part right?"

confession.

siwoo has been acting weird, lately.

then again, jay is used to weird—in fact, if @besiwoo isn't acting like the bastard he knows his friend to be, then he'd find it stranger. but the odd behaviour siwoo has been displaying isn't within that realm of unhinged asshole jay has known siwoo for. he doesn't even know how to explain it. siwoo doesn't either, obviously, otherwise they wouldn't have one of their rare and intense arguments just the other day; where nothing was truly resolved. but they're on better terms again. at least, jay believes so.

besides, it's probably jay's fault they're in this situation ( that he blurred the lines in between their already boundless friendship; consequences be damned ). he doesn't know, he doesn't get it—he won't, for a while. but, it's usually jay's fault.

jay doesn't think about it too much, really. he doesn't have the time to in the first place, having to assimilate to his new schedule and routine. and suddenly, they have this acting camp to worry about. jay doesn't know the first thing about acting, never thought he'd really need it as a skill. but it'd probably do him some good, stage direction wise. it's grating though, having to memorize a script, even if it's just a few scenes—his brain isn't built for all this memorization without music or rhythm to accompany the lines he's supposed to be mouthing. is he going to complain on his first week here though? no. ideally, he'd start off his year behaving.

he reads through the script once more, eyebrows furrowed, lines forming between them. he has his pen pressed against his lips, forming a sort of artificial pout, trying to badger the lines into his head. "ugh, this is a lot." maybe he's being dramatic, it's not like he's acting out an entire episode—but it's like chalk on board to him, the only saving grace being that he's doing this with siwoo. and, well, the scene is kind of interesting. mostly corny, though.

"this is really cheesy," jay comments, not budging from his position on the floor. "have you watched this show? i don't know the context of anything." he rarely watches anything romantic, and he'd never experienced a confession of his own—so it's funny, ironic even, that he somehow ended up holding this script out of all of them. "should we just try it?" he asks siwoo, peeking at the other through the sheets of paper in his hands.

"it starts with you." but siwoo probably already knew that, since he's holding the same script. should he... act distracted? jay is supposed to be startled, according to his lines. well, that's easy. that's one of his default states, after all. he skims through the script one more time for good measure, only to snort as he reads siwoo's assigned lines. "actually, this guy kinda sounds like you." he lets out a short laugh. "would this be how you confess to someone? you have a lot more experience than me on this."

he hums, his pen digging into his bottom lip. "he's saying asshole, asshole, asshole a lot. he really sounds like you. i didn't realize that was allowed on tv!"

[goddess-of-green]

Can I rq headcanons for adult "madara" obito with a crush who's hard to manipluate? Like he developed a crush on her and tried to get her to join the akatsuki but his mind games don't work on her.

hahaha yes

Warnings: Mentions of manipulation

✗ He'd be pretty irritated at first

✗ But then he'd remember that you're you, not just some worthless pawn

✗ And he'd be pleased that you don't just play into anyone's hands

✗ You're smart, and he can appreciate that

✗ But that does make it all the more difficult for things to go his way

✗ If his attempts at manipulation don't work, and believe me there will be many attempts, then he'll be stumped for a bit

✗ He'd probably try to persuade you to join the Akatsuki on your own by playing into your ambitions and what you want out of life

✗ But if he isn't able to gaslight you or trip you over your own words then he'll just impatiently wait for you to join of your own accord

✗ You have to at some point...right?

✗ Overall, he'd be all the more enamored by your intelligence and independence, but he would quickly get impatient with his inability to get what he wants, which is you

[sidespart]

For the fic title thing: Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling

Make Up Your Mind (this seriously got away from me and became basically a whole string of conscious fic whoops)

Logince, Bakery/coffeeshop AU Mutual Pining/ Not-Actually-Unrequited love, + loceit friendship

So Janus owns a Bakery (struggling to think of a snake/lie based bread pun for the name but ehh). He is the head only baker and sends most of his time in the basement kitchen blasting the phantom of the opera soundtrack and kneading dough. 

Logan is his childhood friend. Janus hired him as cashier after Logan dropped out of collage but then he never left and is now basically manager/ accountant/ hbic of this whole operation.

So one night as Janus is leaving he’s casually like: ‘oh by the way, a couple are coming by tomorrow for a wedding cake consultation’

And Logan blocks the door and is like: ‘Janus. We don’t do wedding cakes. We don’t even do cake. You only make weird artisanal bread. it took me 6 months and 8 powerpoint presentations to convince you to sell banana loaf’

Jan, his eye enormous: ‘but Logan, you should have heard this guy on the phone. They only want to use LGBTQ businesses for their wedding, they want to support the community that’s supported them for so long. He spoke so passionately and eloquently about why it just had to be us I couldn't say no’

Logan, his eyes not enormous: did you tell this man we make wedding cakes just to make the phone conversation end?

Janus: I was going to miss the murder, she wrote marathon, Logan 

So Jan manages to escape, and Logan rolls his eyes but like. This is nowhere near the worst ‘cleaning up after Janus lied to get out of a situation and made everything more complicated for no goddamm reason’ incident that he has had to deal with during the course of their friendship so, whatever: he can tell the couple there was a miscommunication when they show up in the morning. 

Next day, the guys arrive. Virgil, who barley introduces himself and then stays hunched in his hoodie not speaking for the whole meeting, and Roman. 

Roman does not have a problem speaking. Roman has lots of ideas.

Roman has a binder. 

Somehow in the course of this conversation Logan goes from ‘we don’t make wedding cakes’ to ‘I’LL SHOW YOU, WE’LL MAKE THE BEST GODDAMM WEDDING CAKE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN’

Maybe it was the passion of Romans argument. Maybe it was the slightly disdainful look on his face when he looked round the shop. Maybe it was the ridiculous amount of money he was prepared to pay (see: Janus insists on only making specific, weird bread as to why the shop’s always on the brink of collapse). Maybe it was the power of the binder (Logan is like 80% sure Roman hit him with the binder at one point). Maybe its just Logan hasn't had a full blown passionate argument like that since high school debate club and the rush of adrenaline made him dumb.

Whatever the reason - they’re now fully committed to making this 6 tier, purple and blue, Disney inspired, multiflavoured wedding cake

(Janus, who skipped out on the meeting because he is Like That: But Logan....we don’t make wedding cakes...this was really irresponsible of you...

 Logan: I know where you sleep. I could kill you at any time) 

Which would be doable (the weddings a while off, and Logan is ready to RESEARCH) except Roman keeps. Coming. Back. 

With new ideas. And tweaks. And suggestions. All of them seemingly designed to make the cake less structurally sound. 

Basically every time he comes in they end up having a blazing row, first about Romans inability to make up his mind about the cake and then about...literally everything. One time they spent 25 minuets arguing about whether or not Shakespeare wrote all of his plays, which somehow turns into ‘who was the best host of blues clues?’ which then turned  into ‘how would nationalised healthcare best be implemented?’ (the loudest arguments were during the blues clues section).Logan had even fewer customers then normal that day.

(Logan: I hate that guy so much! He shows up at 2pm every day and now my blood pressure has started going up at 1.55pm in anticipation of the fight! He’s causing me actual medical distress because he’s so stupid!

Janus:...you’ve memorised some guys schedule and your heart starts racing whenever you see him?

Logan: yes! because he is my enemy!

Janus:...

Janus: mmKay.)

ANYway, one day Roman turns up and is like: Can’t fight today. Need caffeine. Must Study. and sequesters himself on one of their two rinky dink tables and starts pulling enormous textbooks out of his bag. Turns out Roman is in law school, he’s back home for the whole summer to help with wedding prep and has been neglecting his summer reading. He wants to be an environmental lawyer and, ideally, singly handily prosecute every oil company and give a speech at the UN whilst wearing an immaculately fitted Italian suit. 

Logan has a panicked moment of OH NO HE’S SMART (he doesn't need an oh no he’s hot moment because Roman’s been hot the whole time). Very carefully he does not think about how upset hearing Roman mention the wedding again made him feel, and then shares a bit about his own anxiety during college which led to him dropping out.

Roman says degree or no degree its obvious Logan is one of the smartest, most capable people Romans ever met.

Cue: blushing, stammering, Logan standing up to quickly and knocking half a pot of coffee over etc etc all that good fluff. 

And after that their conversations are less confrontational (although they still debate like. everything.) and more friendly.

They have one (1) more conversation about the wedding wherein Roman apologises for being so stressed and snappy over all the preparation stuff but he just wants everything to be perfect for Virgil. (Logan, awkwardly: you must love him a lot. Roman, himbo-ly: Yeah!) aaand then Logan changes the subject to the best rhyming structure because Romans big sappy grin is making his heart do awful twisty things-

And eventually, Roman asks Logan to go out with him outside the bakery.

Logan: hahaha this is friendship, we are great friends, we are going out as friends. I am not going on a date with a man with a fiancé because that would be the actions of a crazy person.

 So they go on their date. It’s amazing. Roman leans in for a kiss at the end and Logan is delighted!

And then devastated.

He pushes Roman away, yells some creative insult (malodorous centurion?) and flees. Spends the next week basically hiding in the kitchen area, refusing to see any customers and working on the wedding cake.

(which is looking perfect by the way)

So after a week of Logan moping round the kitchen Janus finally blocks the door to stop him leaving and demand he tells him what the hell is wrong. And after a few minuets of filibustering Logan ends up telling him everything.

“In any case, the very fact that he is the kind of man who would cheat on his fiancé means he’s not the kind of man I thought he was. Therefore any alleged feelings I may have developed towards him would now be null and void” says Logan, looking like the worlds sadist accountant

Janus: So...wait. You’re saying wedding cake guy and hot lawyer guy are the same person?

(Logan: you need to come out of the basement more often Janus: YOU need to tell me what’s going on in your life more often. (they have had this conversation many times in the past))

So Janus sincerely tells Logan he’s sorry...and that he’s even more sorry that he needs him to help him deliver the cake to the venue tomorrow.

(this thing is way to big for one person to carry and there’s no way Jan would trust any of their occasional teenage cover staff to do this and ‘we’ll go round the back and you wont have to see anyone anyway comon Lo’ you basically built this monstrosity you should see it home)

So, reluctantly, Logan goes. And they go round the back as promised, and get this enormous cake settled, and then get told to wait there one sec cus one of the grooms is going to come sign for it and before Logan can throw himself out of the widow (get OFF me Janus we’re on the ground floor it’s FINE)  from behind them they hear squeeing.

There’s a curly haired dude in a pastel blue linen suit who Logan has never seen before in his life looking at the cake and cooing over ‘all the little details! its perfect! oh Virgil is going to love this! You know he was so embarrassed about asking for a Disney themed cake he had to ask Roman to go with him to -”

“Who ARE you?”

The man blinked at Logan, who realised dimly that he still had one foot up on the windowsill and slowly returned it to the floor. 

“I’m Patton” said Patton.

“And I’m Janus” said Janus, removing his arms from where they’d still been clamped around Logan’s waist and stepping smoothly towards Patton, clipboard held aloft “A pleasure to meet you, if you could just sign here...”

“BUT-” Patton paused, hand still raised to accept the clipboard, and looked over again at Logan who found himself mumbling:  “but - but the groom is supposed to sign for it?”

And Patton just smiled at him looking a bit bemused and goes ‘I am the groom? And who are you kiddo?”

Logan says he’s Logan. Patton suddenly looks a whole lot less friendly. 

“Oh.” says Patton. “You.”

And since Logan’s mind is currently refusing to take in the information in front of him Janus is the one who ends up stepping in between them and going “so just for 100% transparency - you are Patton. 

“yes?”

“and today you are marrying the love of your life: Virgil?”

“Yes!”

“And are either of you, at any point today, also planning on marrying one Roman Sanders, caffeine addict and terrible communicator?”

And Paton burst out laughing and says “ROMAN? Virgil’s big brother Roman? He’s my best man but I don’t think we’re planning to take it any further...”. And because Patton is apparently much quicker on the emotional uptake than Logan he gives him a vey soft, if slightly exasperated, look and says:

“Roman - who again, is my future brother-in-law- is helping set up in the main hall.”

And Logan likes to think he said thank you before he took off fucking RUNNING through the building but he can’t be sure.

So he gets to the hall, where a load of people are setting out chairs, putting up flowers etc,  and skids to a stop at one end of the aisle. Shouts: “ROMAN.” (Roman and Virgil, who were standing at the other end arguing over a flower arrangements, both look up) “YOU’RE NOT MARRYING YOUR BROTHER.”

“um.” Says Roman “No?”

Explanations are given. Virgil, who is a lot more talkative now that he’s not on 7th wedding appointment of the day burn out, is ready to physically fight Logan for breaking his brothers heart. And then once he understands the full story is ready to kill both of them for being such dumbasses.

Roman: But I s2g I told the guy on the phone that it was the groom and best man coming??? Logan: Yeah he might have lied and said you were a couple for a joke, or he may have just straight up not listened to you. Either way, he is just Like That.

Logan: WHY DID YOU NEVER MENTION VIRGIL WAS YOUR BORTHER?? Roman: I WAS TRYING TO GET TO KNOW YOU AND ALSO SEDUCE YOU WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER??? Virgil: Yeah...he does like talking about himself, sorry he’s just  Like That.

Anyway it all ends fluffily, Patton and Virgil get married. Roman cries. Logan and Jan hang around for the wedding. Roman and Logan hold hands throughout the speeches and dance during the reception. Roman has to go back to law school soon but they agree to call each other every day at 2pm to catch up and argue. 

Janus gets off with the moustachioed DJ. 

And Roman and Logan get another chance at their first kiss.

[dingoat]

The Boy in the Temple

[Guess I’m in some sort of writing zone? This came out of absolutely nowhere and features a whole lot of Sithy business that I don’t normally go anywhere near and a character that’s still waiting to be properly defined and backstory for the worst boy rather than the best girl, hahaha. Sometimes when the plot bunnies strike you’ve just gotta run with it, and apparently I just did for nearly 2k words.]

---

It was the last thing the Sith expected to encounter scurrying about the edges of the Dark Temple, a furious little presence of cold rage and purpose completely untainted by the madness that otherwise permeated the area. Even more surprising to discover was that the being was not only a perfectly ordinary human, but young and Force-blind to boot.

Immediately curious, he shifted the focus of his hunt to the boy instead, a wave of his hand directing his bogwing to tighten her wings and wheel higher into the soft drizzle of the sky, a perfectly unassuming silhouette against the Temple’s stone peaks. Dropping back a comfortable distance, the Sith allowed the Force to do all his work for him, observing the boy’s passage under arches and over jutting walls, stealthy as a hunting cat. He was… very plainly here for a reason, driven by something that ran deep and swirled passionately at his core. Intensely focused, but with a sort of callous disregard for his own self; the boy didn’t know if he would come away from this excursion alive, and didn’t quite seem to care.

He carried things, things that no regular human boy should be carrying, a scroll and a blade that glittered so brightly through the Force with ancient energy and carefully honed power that the Sith could read the engravings on the knife and almost make out the strokes of ink on the carefully rolled parchment. The boy treated them with care; unrolling the map only for brief consultations and guarding it against the rain with his body. He picked his way around a curved section of wall, textured with glyphs carved in glossy obsidian, ran his fingers along the scored stone until he found what he was after.

Then he uttered words that no regular human boy should know, and the stone shifted.

The Sith’s curiosity deepend exponentially.

He raised his hand and seized the stone, forcing the doorway to remain open even after the boy had slipped inside. He sensed the way the boy waited, first impatient, clearly expecting it to close, then no longer caring as he pressed on inside. The Sith followed, summoning his pet down to ground level to perch by the carved wall, swiftly weaving threads of the Force between the bogwing and the doorway and forming an easy anchor that he could access to let himself out again from the inside.

If it proved necessary. You never really could tell, with places like this.

The boy moved on, down a winding passageway with only a small handful of forks, pausing only once to consult his map, and being very sparing with his use of a small electronic torch to light his way. All the while, anger flowed from him, cold white anger stemming from a whorl of grief that filled the whole of him, making plain the shape of his body through the Force. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen years, lean and fit but still gangly with youth, and yet there was so much tension in his shoulders, in the clench of his jaw. If the boy knew anything of what slithered along the walls or crawled over his head, he gave no indication that he was bothered; he was either not remotely squeamish, or utterly oblivious.

The Sith was certainly not bothered, as he felt something with far too many legs crawl across his chest and carry on its way as he took a moment to lean against the wall, waiting for the boy to fuss his way over a selection of doorways.

The Sith didn’t bother to follow him into the chamber that eventually yawned in front of him; his vision through the Force let him know all he needed about the ancient text inscribed across the walls, the smooth stone chalice that sat on an ornate pedestal in front of the towering altar that took up most of the room, crowned with a shimmering obelisk. He also knew, plain as day, that the boy now trembled with something new. Nerves. Anticipation. And was that… a delicious little glimmer of hope?

He had wondered, at one point, if this were some new Intelligence recruit, set on some impossible training task. But that thought was cast aside as he realised this boy’s mission was intensely personal, and terribly private.

He judged that the boy must be a terribly resourceful individual, to have gained possession of the artifacts he held. Particularly the knife, which he now brandished, brimming with tension, over his outstretched left hand.

The Sith tipped his head thoughtfully, listening as the boy spoke, his lips and tongue rapidly forming unfamiliar words, a little clunky with his lack of true grasp of the language, but still… impressive. Very impressive, for such a superficially ordinary little being.

The Sith decided he’d seen enough, and pulled himself to his feet, stepping forward while clearing his throat before the blade managed to nick the boy’s skin.

The boy startled with a shout, and the ancient blade clattered to the ground. Yet his shock was rapidly replaced with blind fury, and after a split second of sizing up the Sith he launched, recklessly, ferociously, fists raised.

The Sith let him come almost within arm’s reach before twitching his fingers and catching up the boy around the throat, lifting him into the air without actually laying a hand on him.

“Who are you?” The boy shouted through his struggles, deliciously furious. “You’re not meant to be here, what are you doing here?”

The Sith couldn’t help but laugh. “I think of the two of us, it’s the one with his legs dangling in the air that has less claim to any right to be here. Who are you, skulking about a cursed temple with stolen items? I have to assume you have some idea of what you were about to do, but truly, do you have any idea what you were about to do?”

The indignation that soared through the boy was delightful.

“Leave me alone! I don’t care what you think, just leave me alone. I know what I’m doing.”

The Sith sifted gently through the Force and tutted softly. “You don’t care, do you? You’re not afraid of me. You’re not afraid of losing your own life here, are you?”

The boy glowered, and somehow came across decades older than he aught. But his silence stretched long, simmering with grief.

The Sith observed him thoughtfully. “You won’t succeed. Whoever it is you’re trying to bring back…”

The boy shouted again, something that was almost a wild animal snarl, and thrashed savagely in the constricting grip of the Force. He twisted and bucked, utterly heedless of the pressure around his throat, he kicked out and so very, very nearly clipped the Sith across the chin.

“A more volatile being than I might choose to kill you know, just for that. Or perhaps for your trespass, or your blatant theft.”

“So do it then,” the boy spat back with an acid tone, flushed with absolute disregard for his precarious situation, and an impressive wall guarding his thoughts, for one unable to manipulate the Force.

But it did little to protect against someone as skilled as the Sith. Pressing through that barrier was as easy as drawing breath, and the image that the boy held in his mind was breathtaking in its contrast to the ferocity and willfulness he projected outward. “She’s young, isn’t she? Younger than you. Or is that… oh, I see. That’s as old as she ever reached, isn’t it?”

The boy shrieked a wordless rage, jolting so savagely against the Sith’s grasp that he almost considered letting go just to see how far the boy would go. It seemed a pity, almost, that such a vibrant being should have to suffer a complete inability to perceive the lifeblood of the universe. That a boy filled with such passion and fury should be blind to his true shape in the world.

He waited until the tantrum died down before speaking again. He was in no hurry.

“Your little ritual would have attracted the attention of spirits quite happy to claim you and use you, with no intention of delivering what you seek.”

“So why don’t you help me instead? Why don’t you do something decent with your stupid magic, what the kriff is even the point of being able to do what you people can do if you don’t-” his words were cut short with a sharp choking sound and a gasp for air.

The Sith saw little value in even entertaining the boy’s sad little fantasy. But what he did enjoy was the boy’s spirit. His fury and his cunning, his resourcefulness and courage. What a useful life, this boy could have. What a career.

He summoned the blade to his free hand, pocketing it before gently prying the scroll from the boy’s belt. “You will leave this temple, and you will turn your thoughts away from this absurd ritual. You want nothing to do with the stuffy old dead beings that would rather turn your mind than deliver a glimpse of your lost sister.” He spoke the words with a sliver of influential pressure, but the boy’s manner remained fierce; no fog came to his mind to absorb the suggestion. It was unsurprising, really, that the boy was far too strong willed for a simple mind trick; so be it. The words would be offered as plain advice. “And one day, you’ll be grateful that I spared your life, and gave you the opportunity to find a way to seek out true compensation for those who brought her to harm. There is a great deal of solace to be found in artful vengeance. Death comes to us all, boy, there’s no need to invite it early.”

The boy seemed to be taking in what he said, and had calmed his struggles somewhat. But the moment the Sith let his feet touch the ground again, he launched once more, utterly foolish but still, in his own way, admirable.

The Sith flicked his hand and sent the boy crashing against the far wall of the chamber. “You possess the sort of tenacity and ruthlessness that could get you far in the Empire. I’m curious to see where this will take you in life.”

And what you might be able to deliver when I decide to cash in on the debt you now owe me.

He smiled to himself as he turned and left the boy to find his own way out. If he was truly resourceful, he’d find a way, and if not… then perhaps the loss would not be so great after all.

---

Some decades later, Keeper took in the caller ID on his buzzing comm, and permitted himself a long sigh before responding.

“Intelligence headquarters, how are we able to serve?”

The voice on the other end was young, fresh, and a little bit nervous. An assistant of some sort, then, or an apprentice? “My Lord requests the presence of your Watcher Five at  his earliest convenience, sir.”

“Watcher Five is currently on a rather well deserved leave of absence. I can arrange a meeting for him on his return, unless the matter is of some urgency? Might I request the nature of the appointment?”

A pause. “My Lord wishes to collect on a debt owed to him.”

Keeper drew his lips tight. He had a bad feeling about this. “I will be sure to inform the Watcher. If there is anything else we may be able to do…?”

“That is all. My Lord looks forward to the Watcher’s return.”

Keeper stared at his comm for a short while after the call ended, feeling an uncomfortable coldness in his guts. And then he began to dial out, suspecting that this might just be a matter that Five would appreciate some time to prepare for.

[murusagi]

Your Guide to Kimi Wa Yukima Ni Koinegau a.k.a. Kimiyuki (Part 1)

Kimi Wa Yukima Ni Koinegau is an upcoming otome game by Otomate and Watanabe Entertainment. I don’t know what’s gotten into me but I decided to translate some information provided in the website. May post another update soon!

Storyline

The first year of the Kyoho era, when Yoshimune Tokugawa ruled over Edo as the eighth shogun.

Strange occurrences involving monsters were becoming more and more frequent in Edo, causing the townspeople to grow anxious and discontent. In order to maintain the public order, the Tokugawa shogunate established an organization called "Oniwaban" to crack down on the monsters.  

The seasons changed, and eleven years have passed since then.

In a village far from Edo, there lived a girl who possesses special power. Wherever she sees a "black thread," disaster is sure to follow in that place. The villagers, creeped out, chase her away to the snow-covered depths of the mountains.

Then, a man who calls himself a part of the "Oniwaban" appears before her…

This is a story of the encounter between a single girl and "non-humans", and getting to know love.

World

Edo : A city established by the founder of the Tokugawa shogunate, Ieyasu Tokugawa. It was divided into three districts that were built around the Tokugawa clan's castle, "Chiyoda Castle".

Buke : A district that is the center of politics and samurai. Feudal lords' residence and buildings owned by samurai can often be found in this section. Since there are no shops around, and not all people can enter this place, it is mostly quiet.

Zyouka : A district that is the center of trading and common folks. Merchant houses and stores owned by common people are clustered in this area. Since this place has the most number of people, it is a very lively district.

Goraku: A bustling district that is the center of art, a place filled with theaters, red-light districts and gambling houses. Due to how bustling it is, this place has looser rules compared to other districts. Fights also often occur here.

Before moving on to the characters, here's some note:

Kiko: An existence created by the shogunate's personal exorcist to subjugate Yoika, a being that brings calamity in the evening.

Characters

Suzuno (Name is changeable) CV: None

One who calls upon calamity "Why me? I'm simply a country girl, not someone who could be approached by a samurai…"

The protagonist of this story, a descendant of the Hakuseki clan. Due to her ability to see the "thread of emotion" that no one else can see, she is feared and called a monster by the villagers. She is chased away to the snow-covered recess of the mountains. Despite being a careless person, she is optimistic and kind-hearted.

Takamura Tomonari CV: Kobayashi Yusuke

The quiet and faithful one "I don't know about the others Kiko, but… I just do what I want to do."

The person who comes to pick up the protagonist, a new Kiko who joined the Oniwaban about a year ago. While having a calm personality, he is seen as a cold person due to his tendency to keep distance from others. However, for some reason, he seems to feel something special only to the protagonist and treats her gently.

Toujou Kunitaka CV: Tomoaki Maeno

The gentle and chivalrous one "Rest assured. If you come to our place, I'll assume responsibility and look after you."

Another Kiko who comes to pick up the protagonist. Friendly and good at taking care of others, he is also keeping an eye out on the protagonist as his new junior. While being in charge of the Buke district, he takes care of Tomonari as his senior. However, he is seen as an annoying person due to his excessive caring. Not only that, but he is also hated by his pet sparrow. His suffering and struggles never end.

Yoichi CV: Yamashita Seiichirou

The lazy and blunt one "You don't have anything more to say, right? Get out, then. You're disturbing my break."

A Kiko who gathers information while running a liquor store called "Yanagiya" in the Zyouka district. Due to his lazy and moody personality, he always acts in a way where he can slack off. A blunt person who speaks his mind without mincing his words. Because of that, he showed a harsh attitude during his first meeting with the protagonist. A glutton who likes to eat excessive amounts of food.

Kuga Genjuurou CV: Satou Takuya

The diligent and upright one "That power… Are you prepared to use it for the shogunate?"

A Kiko specialized in combat, in charge of the Zyouka district like Yoichi. Formally, his job is to guard and patrol around Edo as one of the security officials. Having a calm personality on top of being a hard worker, he is a serious person who looks after Yoichi as a part of his senior duties. He has a genuine interest in what kind of power the protagonist had.

Kinji CV: Namikawa Daisuke

The beautiful and self-centered one "So what brings you here today? Did you come to be mocked again?"

A Kiko who collects information as a kabuki actor at a theater called "Kikusatoya" in the Goraku district. A selfish person with high self-esteem, enjoys teasing people to kill time. In contrast to his appearance, he is very strong and destroys things from time to time as a result of his inability to control his power. The most senior one among the Kikos.

Outaro CV: Saito Soma

The lively one "Hahaha! You're an interesting fellow, huh, getting lost while chasing a pickpocket."

Formally, his job is to lure more customers to the Goraku district. But he's also a Kiko who collects information. Able to get along with anyone due to his bright and friendly nature. A dexterous person and is also quick on his feet. He likes interesting things and even though he tends to get easily carried away, he's good at making his way in life. He's also friendly with the protagonist.

Link for part two

[aclosetfan]

are u still doing the ask game? can i ask for 19 or 20?

for you anon, of course! 20 is actually a really lame two-sentence note that isn't worth anyone's time, so I'll do 19!

19 is a really sad story tbh. I've always really liked the character Sedusa and it kills me that the writers never did more with her. I believe they said the reason why was because they couldn't think of many kid-friendly scenarios to put her in, which is fair lmao.

lol one of my notes for this outline is "this is my dark manifesto to [Sedusa] and it comes off like a bad CW remake," which was written way before the CW show announcement. so not to get a big ego about things, but I totally beat them to the punch. This fic is my only rated M fic (though arguably Acting Normal may also change into M just for its dark themes as well).

This story is adequately tilted "Sedusa" and it follows how a plain jane named Sara became one of Townsville's most notorious villains. The plot's below, though content warning, please don’t read if your triggered by abusive relationships, domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault/harassment, or gore. The outline won't be detailed (and tbh the actual story won't be heavily detailed either) but i believe that everyone still deserves a fair warning :)

The outline doesn't do the plot justice, but it's all I got so hopefully people just Get It.

CHARACTER NOTES:

Canonically, I believe the Sedusa's character was supposed to represent envy and lust. So, one of the main themes I try to stick with when writing her character is the definition of envy, which is a "feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck."

PLOT:

Sara is a sweet and mousy little girl, who tries her best to stay invisible. She's rather plain-looking except for her really beautiful long dark hair. Originally, she's not from Townsville, but somewhere in the "country" where a person could be considered a bumpkin. Sara's a smart young girl, but her intelligence is rather unrefined. She spends most of her time obsessing over greek and Egyptian mythology.

She's from a rather big family, but she's the baby. Her father is abusive. Her mother is neglectful and Sara resents her mother for just standing by while abuse is occurring. To cope, Sara dreams of running away and falls deeper into her mythology obsession--specifically Medusa. Sara feels like Medusa would understand her.

At 16, she runs away to Townsville where she tries to be a hairdresser. With no money, she ends up in a really seedy part of town and the beauty parlor she works for ends up being a front for more illicit activities. She still does hair, but really makes her money as a call-girl of sorts. Just one of those girls who gives handjobs in the back to sad old men. It's easy money (I'm pro-sex work lol so I don't make this a big deal, but she's still a minor and it's wrong), but she's disgusted with herself (and men). At this time, she isn't very good at manipulating men--it's more like they have power over her and it reminds her of her father, only making her angrier and angrier.

It is also of note that while she's working at the Parlor, she encounters Sarah Bellum via tv (Ms. Bellum is just an intern with the Mayor at this point). She's instantly fascinated by this other Sarah and forms an odd (slightly toxic) parasocial relationship with her. Sara thinks it's amazing that Sarah went to school and is just so glamourous. Ms. Bellum is really everything Sara wants to be.

*time skip*

Sara falls in love with some jackass. Still slightly obsessed with Sarah Bellum. Still working at the parlor. Sara feels stagnant and worthless. Her jackass boyfriend and a few of his shitty friends end up attacking Sara and cutting off her hair (which was her prized possession). She gets away, but not totally unscathed.

In the process of running away, she bumps into a mysterious man who promises He can fix whatever is troubling her. The mysterious man manipulates an affirmative answer out of Sara and he "fixes" her problem. The man is HIM and he transforms her into the woman we all know as Sedusa (who goes by Ima when disguised).

“And what is it that you want?” HIM tsked, almost sounding bored.

She looked back at the mirror, at her broken reflection and lipstick smeared down her face. With a sore, croaking voice she sneered, “I want my fu-fucking hair back.”

Behind her, the entity smiled, Its facing splitting wide into two, “Oh, now that I can do.”

She watched through the shattered glass how It—HIM—snapped its odd monstrous claw. HIM’s smile grew more grotesque, as a thin bead of sweat began to break out on her forehead.

“This might hurt a little bit,” the entity giggled as she began to hyperventilate, “but what is that you little humans say?" HIM paused, watching her with a tilt of Its head as pain shot through her temples, "Oh, that’s right—”

She gasped and then screamed, dropping to her knees as she clutched at her head. Something wiggled underneath her scalp, pushing harder and harder to break against the resistance of her skin. It felt as if something was pressing against her brain, trying to carve away at her skull.

“—beauty is pain.” HIM growled, appearing next to her so Its voice—now low and baritone—was right in her ear, and It grasped her by the chin forcing her to watch the mirror as snake-like tendrils sprouted from her skull. She cried out at the sight and her body trembled with the pain.

One black, oily, twisted snake after another shot out of a bloody crater on her head. She tried her best through the pain to shake HIM off—to look away—but It held her still with a twisted laugh. She thrashed and howled in agony as the blood poured down her face in rivets. HIM didn't let go. Instead, HIM forced her still, grabbing her by the chin so she'd peer directly into the broken mirror.

Sara paled right before her very eyes, from a peachy skin tone to a white paste. She tried to blink away the tears that wouldn’t stop welling in her eyes—the green of them becoming more acidic with every passing second.

“The fun should be ending soon.” HIM giggled again, Its voice back to a soprano, but she was too forgone to hear him, as her eyes began to lull into the back of her head.

Eventually, when the transformation is complete, we see this:

Sara had stayed collapsed on her knees after HIM vanished into thin air. She stared with wide eyes as blood, sweat, and tears dripped onto and rolled off her thighs. She hardly paid attention to her surrounding, all she could do was listen. She listened to her hair. She listened to the constant moving, living, mass that slithered around her head, neck, and shoulders. The coils almost seemed to be cooing at her, comforting her through her pain, offering sweet apologies for what they had done. They promised her nothing bad would ever happen again. They were a dangerous shield forged from her own body to protect her.

Her body. A vessel for this odd new life.

“Heh.” A deranged giggle escaped her mouth, “Heh. Heh ha—hahaha!” She laughed until her throat burned and tightened, her tears finally drying.

It was instantaneous. It was powerful. Sara had never known love before, but she loved them. She loved every single one of them.

And here she had thought she'd never be a mother.

Sara becomes Sedusa--taking inspiration from Medusa, her childhood fascination. She wonders if HIM knew, but she wouldn't bother asking. She feels sexy, powerful, and unstoppable. Her hair has instilled a new confidence in her and she's finally able to stand up for herself. Soon, she realizes that she's an "exotic" beauty and has men eating out of her hand. She isn't someone who kills, but if she gets bored (or feels threaten) she will.

Things are going good until the PowerPuff Girls are finally created. When she sees them for the first time, she pities them, especially when they're run out of town. She relates to them for not being loved little girls, but is completely shocked when she finds out they've won the town over. This shock turns into resentment and she decides she'll get even with the girls

Then, cue canon. Sedusa seduces the Professor. We see what happens in that episode plus a little more. Sedusa takes out a lot of her repressed childhood trauma on the girls and is plain awful to them. By the time her stint with the Professor is over, she hates them all.

Then, there's the episode with Bellum. Bellum becomes the Athena to Sedusa's medusa. Bellum is still this elevated person in Sedusa's mind, and it only makes sense to Sedusa that she should become Bellum. To become Bellum, Sedusa seduces Bellum and they end up having a brief relationship. (Sedusa pretends to be an intern at City Hall and the two ladies bond over having the same first name). Eventually, Sedusa reveals her plot and the canon events happen. (Bellum is heartbroken over Sedusa).

I'd like to emphasize that Sedusa's relationship with Bellum almost turns her "good," but her hair coils (HIM's curse) prevents her from taking those steps. Her coils prevent close loving relationships--since they're supposed to be shield that keeps people out, preventing any chance that Sedusa's heart may be broken again. [coils represent her inability to heal from the past]

Then we run through a quick montage of her other appearances.

[throughout all of this, I would write how her hair coils are making her more and more insane]

*time skip to after the events of the og show*

This is where my plot can go anywhere. I think Sedusa becomes sloppy, maybe kills a politican. She's spirialing out of control and mad that she can't find any real happiness in her life. I think it'd be interesting to show her interacting with the rrb, not necessarily to show their relationship, but to show how Sedusa would be infuriated that HIM had sons, especially sons who hurt girls for fun ( i.e. the ppg) (a real 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' moment for her). She's also infuriated at HIM for turning her into a monster, so being mad about his "sons" is just an excuse to get even with the entity.

To hurt HIM, she decides to hurt the boys, but the girls interfere. They won't let innocent live be taken, no matter the person's moral alignment. This infuriates Sedusa even more than HIM ever could. Because again, despite all the shitty things that have happened to the Girls, they are still good as opposed to Sedusa, who ended up bad. She doesn't understand why she had to end up the way she did.

However, the girls aren't the people who finally "defeat" Sedusa. Instead, that honor is left to Ms. Bellum (Sedusa's "Athena"), who Sedusa still very much loves in her own sick twisted way. Paralleling the Sedusa/Bellum episode in the og show, the girls (while protecting the boys) are almost defeated by Sedusa until Bellum intervenes. It's revealed that Bellum had a shitty childhood too (again enforcing the parallels/differences between the two women) and believes that it's not too late for Sedusa to change her ways (it’s a real “I’m rotten work” “no it isn’t. Not if it’s you” moment) In a moment of mental clarity, where the coils (and by extension HIM) cannot affect her judgement, Sedusa releases the boys and the girls. Sedusa doesn't stay though, like Bellum pleads, she gets scared and runs away. (but does tell Bellum she’d always love her, whatever that’s good for)

[also I decide bellum to defeat sedusa to show that the girls are still to young and that adults should be the ones dealing with other adults] [and bellum has a good track record of doing just that]

Idk if she'd be gone forever, but it's implied that she hasn't been seen in Townsville for a long time. What she gets up to is left ambiguous. She can't be good because of her hair coils, but she doesn't want to be bad. idk I don't want it to have a sad ending, but I don't think it can really be happy.

-----

I try hard to play with the concept of beauty, womanhood, purity, love and how negative/positive responses to trauma affect these concepts. Idk it's really rough and needs to be thought out more, especially the end, but I think Sedusa deserves her own story.

[atopearth]

Collar X Malice Part 2 - Okazaki Kei Route

I wonder how Okazaki's route will go, since instead of focusing on a case, Ichika  wants to broadly focus on her reason for being a police officer, namely to protect people. Anyway, other than it being sad to see Mineo rather cold after his super cute and sweet route, I also find it saddening that we have to start all over again with Kazuki and their strained relationship😭 Anyway, Yoshinari is a pretty funny guy, he's like Mineo, capable but silly lol. I guess it's convenient that Okazaki will wake up when he hears a gun taken out of its holster lol. But yeah, it was obvious that Okazaki knew who Ichika was, there's no way they could have hidden that. Anyway, Okazaki saving her from a bunch of guys and then holding her hand was cute. I think he's right that even if it feels weird at first, to feel someone's warmth when you're scared really helps to kinda calm you down. Well, okay, Ichika is pretty ridiculous. Lol, like I can forgive her for trying to rush into a raging fire to help someone the first time but for her to try a second time?? I'm glad Okazaki shouted at her because that was beyond reckless. She has no protection, no plan, no idea of anything and she wants to save someone that's at the centre of a blazing fire? Even if she's panicking, that's pretty crazy. Not to mention that this was a park, she really should have focused on helping people around her who could be injured or feeling sick from the smoke etc. Anyway, Okazaki helped her come to her senses so she really should thank him for saving her life tbh. I know Ichika is inexperienced but I feel like this incident made it seem like what she lacks is common sense instead, but I'll give her the benefit of doubt since someone was burning to death in front of her, and that's difficult to accept and endure knowing there's nothing she can do.

I honestly feel terrible for Sugawara. I can't imagine how frightening it must be for her to be stalked for such a long period of time with no one to help her, and then having the guy wanting to kill her and himself, that's pretty crazy and I feel so sorry for her. I can see why she would trust anyone who saved her from this situation when the police obviously didn't. Omggg, there were two stalkers?! I can't imagine her frustration and fear to be relieved from one stalker (since they got arrested) and then end up being stalked again, like seriously that's absolutely crazy and I don't think any person could handle that. Okazaki pulling his gun out against Ichika (after finding out about her collar) was pretty dramatic. Seems like the memory erasing thing happens to everyone who gets captured? Anyway, I honestly felt so bad for Sugawara when she felt that being imprisoned as a criminal was better than going home and getting stalked again, it's just so saddening.. I think it was really cool and strong of Ichika to tell Okazaki to shoot her if he ever believes that she is causing things to go wrong in the investigations, it's like she's leaving her life in his hands knowing that he will make the "correct" decision. I've always admired Ichika's determination. I do feel bad for Okazaki though. Reporting Ichika to his superiors or not is a difficult decision, especially considering how seriously he takes his job. I think Ichika's thoughts really hit the nail on the head on why I just don't feel on board with her and Okazaki together. Like yeah, they're cute but I agree with her that it doesn't feel like Ichika exists in the depths of his heart, rather he is looking for something from or inside her hoping that she has it because of the "kind" person she is, and yeah apparently he's found it and wants to protect her and believe her, but I just can't help but feel that he's not really looking at her for her?

Okazaki's texts are so cute with the emojis lmao. It's also sweet how they share tidbits of their everyday life with each other. HAHAHA, I nearly died from laughter when Okazaki talked about how his robot vacuum "ran away" and never came home because he left his front door open😂😂 Okazaki buying Ichika flowers first thing in the morning to try and cheer her up from her lack of progress with the recent X-Day case was so sweet. Anyway, I have to agree with Mochida, it's really frustrating to be practically the complaint hotline department for the X-Day incidents but know nothing of the progress or results to properly reassure the public. Like literally, all they do is try and soothe people and their anger but have nothing to really inform them about, it's like they made this department just to have some people take the brunt of the complaints so others can work "easier". 

I didn't think that the rough looking guy that's a part of Adonis was actually a policeman before! Doesn't help that he looks pretty different from his photo that's at least 5 years ago... I feel like that's so saddening though, like one superior ruined so many young cops lives. Honestly, hearing that one of them has been in a mental asylum for years, and the other one left the country and never came back really kinda shows how traumatised they were by whatever happened with that "bad" cop guy that died. I feel so terrible for Sanjou and all those rookie cops Todoroki crushed mentally and physically with abuse. They all desired to be a policeman to protect people and all had dreams they wanted to fulfill, and they all endured because they believed in their justice and protection, but in the end the only thing they got was injustice and hatred from the people they tried to protect because of Todoroki's mistakes. Honestly, no matter how meaningful my job is, I don't think I could endure all that, so I'm not surprised Sanjou has resorted to becoming who he is. Sure, he's going against his principles back in the day by hurting people, but even though a part of him is still there, at the same time, he's definitely tired of everything. The thought of the moment he finally broke really tore me because thinking about all he endured is painful. On the other hand, it's interesting he thinks that Adonis can replace the police itself since really Adonis in other routes and kinda here is wrought with problems and people who are reckless and don't really have a clear goal aside from revenge. Unlike him, most of the people besides the leaders don't care about making society "better" because they're focused on their own pain and justice for themselves. Not that they're wrong to do that since Adonis chose them for that reason, but it's also because of that that Adonis is a mess that won't be a rebirth of a proper version of the "police".

I don't know if any sane person would really chase after Sanjou when Ichika's recklessness got Okazaki injured, and she's definitely useless in a battle without him, not to mention tending to his wounds are probably more important right now lol. I mean, it's not like I don't understand Takaeda's position and the need to quell the anger of the public with how incapable the police have been in stopping the X-Day crimes etc, but can't he at least be a bit more subtle with how dodgy he wants to be? Lol. Who parades around telling moralistic police officers like Morioka and Minegishi to just arrest all the suspects and not care about concrete evidence or solid alibis??? Like yes, these actions will totally make the public think you're great the moment anyone complains and this comes to light lol, like seriously. It's such a silly short term fix to the problem that I have no idea how he even thought it would be a good idea. Honestly, I would be pretty mad if I was Ichika and Okazaki said he wanted to die protecting her since he's looking for a meaningful way to die. Like excuse me?? I knew the whole protecting thing wasn't really about her even though he liked her to an extent, but I would be so annoyed if someone was "using" me like that. Sure, she needs someone to protect her and it's perfect since he doesn't really care about his life, but it's frustrating to think that in the end, how much does he really care since it's like he was just looking for someone that's kinda nice but at high risk of dying? Loll. It's like she as an individual was never really in the picture for him. I know he doesn't mean it maliciously but yeah... Something nice to see in this route is Kazuki reaching out and caring for Ichika himself because he was worried about her getting hurt, it was cute how he told her to take a day off because she's an underling anyway so it doesn't matter if she goes to work or not🤣 It was also nice to see them properly communicate by themselves, however I do think that the only reason this is happening so smoothly is because they want to get this part out of the way loll.

Anyway, Okazaki's inability to understand Ichika kinda pisses me off but Ichika isn't really communicating when he doesn't understand, so they're both wrong lol. However, I hate it when people apologise without understanding why they're wrong, like it's cool to apologise for hurting the other person, but it's not cool when you're going to insist on what the other person is mad about, so really, you might as well not apologise and instead try to communicate about the problem instead. Also, I feel sorry for Sasazuka and them, they're trying to solve the X-Day cases and here are Ichika and Okazaki having a lovers quarrel, I'm honestly glad they told them to get out and come back later because they're definitely useless to the investigations right now. I also don't really care for how Okazaki suddenly "realised" he likes Ichika and just straight out publicly confessed to her, because I personally don't feel it lol but other than that, I'm not fond of love confessions like these lol. I think what annoys me the most is Okazaki's flippant attitude as if nothing is wrong and it's not a big problem? Like he's handling it in his own way and I'm sure he's serious about it but the way he does it just pisses me off. I liked the way he was in the beginning but I guess when it comes to conflicts, his attitude is one of the worst to handle. Yoshinari is such a sweet guy, I don't know why but I feel like he's dodgy loll. Anyway though, sorry if I'm wrong, Yoshinari!

Anyway, hearing Okazaki's story really helped me understand him a bit better. Personally, the bit where he said rather than guilt for causing his colleague's death, he was more scared of dying the same way as his colleague in such a "meaningless" death kinda clicked with me. Maybe it sounds really derogatory and negative to myself, but for a long time, I've felt something similar to Okazaki in a sense, like I wouldn't actively look for danger like him, but if I were in a life threatening situation with my family or friends, I would hope that I'm the one who would die protecting them rather than the other way around. It's just, when you feel like your life is meaningless but others' lives have "value", it's hard to not think that you would want them to be the one to survive rather than yourself. So honestly, it's kinda funny to relate to Okazaki a bit even though he's been such a frustrating character to me lol. At least now I can see why he's so persistent on finding a meaningful way to die, because I think he's right, if I was going to die some way or another, I would want to die saving someone important to me. It was really cute how Ichika kept trying to show him that if he died, he wouldn't be able to eat such delicious food or watch the next part of a movie next year. It really makes me think hmmm, I'd really like to see the end of One Piece so that can keep me going lol. Something I find interesting in the materials/notes is that the Adonis who attacked the Prime Minister Okazaki was protecting two years ago was the original Adonis. The Adonis in the present are apparently viewed as a dummy group of that one🤔 I feel like that's a pretty important detail for the future, like is this Adonis just inspired by them or is it the real Adonis~ Anyway, I think what I found most chilling about Okazaki's story was when Tsukishima kept saying it was Okazaki's fault things went wrong as he was dying from being squashed by the rubble that should have squashed Okazaki. He probably meant it in some other way since he obviously regarded Okazaki as important enough to save him but hearing that as someone loses their life is definitely something difficult to handle, like these are their last words and they're telling me it's my fault so they're definitely right kinda sentiment.

Honestly, I've been rather meh about this whole route, especially with Okazaki's attitude etc, but after he so honestly confessed his feelings to her when they were watching the horror movie, I couldn't help but melt to his words. He was so sincere and honest about how he enjoyed those little moments such as the silly texts with her that I couldn't help but feel touched. He's a frustrating guy but I really do like him. Even though I could understand Ichika for trying to protect Okazaki by going to Adonis, it also made me really annoyed because she was doing exactly what she got so annoyed about Okazaki doing, which is not caring for his own life, so her not caring for her own life when she promised him that they would find a way to live together made me mad. I'm glad Okazaki got mad at her, but I'm also sad that he felt hurt over it. Especially when he already told her that if she died, he'd probably just die too. I mean, there was no way Okazaki wouldn't notice how weird she was anyway lol. 

I guess I have to agree with Okazaki's statement though, everyone has something that they want to protect, and whatever it is that protects their precious something, that is what their justice is. In the end, what we deem as justice is what we believe can protect the things important to us such as other people, our friends etc, and that is also why even if our views of justice can be "similar", what it means to each person will be different, which also means that if we lose what we desire to protect, then our justice becomes meaningless. Anyway, I really like Sanjou. I like how he does what he wants and I guess to an extent, I can understand his sentiments of not caring about this world and dying. Honestly, Sanjou breaks my heart. When Okazaki told Sanjou to leave with him (as Sanjou bombed the place and decided to die with the collapse) and he said Okazaki changed, it felt like Sanjou was really happy for him because they both connected and understood how it felt to want to die. I found it most saddening that Sanjou understood Okazaki's sentiments that yeah maybe he could eventually find something in the future worth living for, but the problem was that he didn't have enough hope to keep living in this crappy world searching for it, and I think that really made me want to cry. It's just so sad that he didn't have someone like Ichika telling him how much they wanted him to live🥺 I wonder why the Prime Minister's son is a part of Adonis🤔

I really thought I missed the trigger mode when Ichika seemed like she was dying lolll, TIL that you can check the backlog to see if the trigger mode was a success or fail so that makes things easier haha. I honestly think it would have been so tragic if Ichika died saving Okazaki though, I can't imagine having to shoulder the burden of two people you care about dying to save you and in hopes of you having a good life. Lmao when Ichika finally woke up in the hospital and asked Okazaki if he was angry at her and he sent her an angry face emoji😂 I nearly cried when Okazaki let out all his emotions over hating himself for not being able to protect Ichika properly, but I'm glad that he was so frank about all his feelings to her, it's really great how well he communicates with her now. It was nice to hear him think about wanting to be a grandma and grandpa together with her. The tragic love end was a bit disappointing though, I think it would have been better to see Okazaki have to kinda live a life fulfilling what Ichika wanted rather than kinda succumbing to death because he couldn't find a reason to live anymore, like it's understandable because he's said that he'd want to die if she died but yeah..

Overall, even though I quite liked Okazaki's character, I don't think I can really say the same for his route. I guess I just found 80% of it pretty boring tbh lol, like the messages and interactions between Ichika and Okazaki were nice in their own way, but at the same time, because Okazaki was "using" her as a way to die a meaningful death, I couldn't feel the "love" he had for her imo. What he saw wasn't really her but what she could offer him, and that's pretty prevalent and obvious when you read the bad endings. However, I did really enjoy the last like 10-20% of the route, probably when they finally communicated and got to understand each other lol. It was nice to see Okazaki so honest and sincere after being able to wholeheartedly believe in a future where they both live, so I liked that. For me, the highlight was definitely Sanjou though, I think his story and character really got to me, and I'm super sad we couldn't save him (or romance him) because I think I ended up liking him more than Okazaki lmao. I still like Okazaki though, but the route was definitely lacking for me, it honestly took me a while to get through because of that lol. In that sense, I guess it made Ichika and Okazaki not feel like that great of a match for me, even though they were pretty cute.

[imnotwolverine]

The Monster’s Lair - A Baptism of Fire

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 11 | Chapter 12 - A Baptism of Fire 

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale, manhunt, blood, gore, death, vampirism, witchcraft, evil fairies, angst

Author’s note: It’s always so bittersweet to finish a long fic. For weeks it has been embedded in my brain, bubbling up on the most impractical moments. Business meetings? Yes. 3AM whilst trying to sleep? Yep. And of course.. once I found a moment to write, the muse was gone and I’d just stare at a blank page for a good hour. Now..after all those struggles..it’s finished. My baby’s finished! *sigh* THE POST-FIC VOID IS CALLING. 😩

Anyways, I’d love to hear from you, dear readers. Give me all your feelings, ideas, tips (and of course fic prompt ideas).❤️I love you and I hope you enjoyed the read!

Word count: 7.801

Reading music: Sowulu - Wulfwiga 

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Something was there.

Like she owned a sixth sense, she knew when danger lurked. And lurking it did. But quietly. Far too quietly. Flicking her ears the deer listened in more closely, the cold forest sounds muted by the thick layer of snow that covered the earth and greens. Winter was at its deepest and coldest now, meaning hunger pushed the herd further to the borders of comfort.

Turning her ears again, her eyes unblinking, she watched with large doe eyes into the dawn. Another whisper sounded through the trees. Hard to discern. But there. Something was definitely there.

Her heart started to gallop, but her feet remained stationary. Nothing around her seemed to be out of the ordinary, the world as white and quiet as ever before. Perhaps it had been a bird or critter. And perhaps it was death.

Her ears pricked around her head, but neither eye nor ear could spot anything strange. All she could see were the slow sun rays that had started weaving their way through the pine trees, starting yet another day in winter wonderland.

Though it was no wonderland for her. More like a fuzzy white nightmare. As she stood there she felt a strange daze fall over her, her limbs no longer her own as her heart beat for two. Gnawing nervously on the patch of grass between her lips, she tried to figure out what was happening to her. Was it an evil spirit? An omen?

A twig snapped and fast as lightning her hooves spurred into full sprint, back to the safety of the herd that had also started to scatter, away from the invisible danger. With leaps and jumps she rushed over the icy planes and snow-heavy branches, hoping to outrun whatever was hunting her so silently.

Birds chirped and snow fell, the sudden rumour in the forest having caused a flock of birds to set off. Perfect for the deer, as their flight made a soft powdery curtain fall behind her tail, her trail temporarily hidden from her perpetrator. Her scent, however, was not hidden. Nor was her heartbeat; now loud as a war drum in her furry chest. With her small hooves she landed on yet another icy patch, its menacingly slippery mirror reflecting hell as it lapped at her ankles.

But, by a fickle sliver of luck, she got away again. Her perpetrator had also slipped and with the thunder in her heart she raced on, legs scrambling and eyes wild.

Move, move, move! Run, run, run!

Having now lost track of her herd, she felt that same strange buzz in her veins. Like she was possessed. And the spirit inside her whispered; “Go to the light!”

Full sprint she set off to where the trees cleared out, the hunt leaving no moment to ponder and hesitate. The fairy spirit inside her now took over, her long legs stretching in large leaps, near making her fly as a merry chuckle danced through her twitching ears. Here more sunshine managed to break through the canopy, its rays glowing warm and yellow over powdery snow.

When she reached the final trees, a beastly growl was heard behind her. Her perpetrator was obviously not happy with this new direction. Would he maybe shy away? Break off the chase? Had this fairy saved her?

She had no time to wait and see. And thus with restless hooves she jumped into the open field. A field which wasn’t a field at all. It was a garden. Large terraces were layered over a hill, with on the very top a castle that was long past its glory days. And despite that, it looked like heaven’s gates, the sun casting a warm hue over the mossy stonework, snow glittering on its window sills.

“Go, go, go!” The fairy ushered, spurring on the deer to run on. Higher and higher. Deeper and deeper into the garden. Until finally she reached the gates to this heavenly hell.

“Good!” The fairy cheered. “And now you die!”

--

‘Hahaha..oh like you would.’ Belle cooed, teasingly rubbing her foot up the Master’s leg, their chairs settled next to each other before the fire. In their laps lay books, but they had long been forgotten as the two bantered on.

‘Do not underestimate my..-’ The Master’s scoffing words halted as he flicked his head away from her, eyes looking up and over Belle’s shoulder.

‘Is the castle falling to ruin yet?’ Belle chuckled, unaware of what the Master had picked up on - it happened on occasion that his attention would fly off like that. His head tilted up to the ceiling as he kept scanning for the source, thereby presenting something Belle had not spotted yet. Beneath his carefully tucked cravatte two angry looking marks appeared. Bite marks. Purple and blue, little veins around them bruised and broken.

‘AI!’ Belle shot up from her chair, book left in the seat as she rushed to push the white cotton further down. ‘You are hurt!’ She exclaimed, the Master’s heaven blue gaze now turning back to her. With a hesitant swallow he nodded, arms reaching out to pull her into his lap, ears continuing to prick and look for more strange sounds.

Belle still didn’t notice much of any foreign presence, her fingers looping around the knot of the cravatte to untighten it. ‘You should have told me.’ She chided softly, fingertips grazing over the edges of the broken skin. ‘Tis nothing.’ The Master brushed off, but Belle’s expression made it clear that she did not believe a word of it.

‘If it were nothing it’d have healed by now.’ She retorted, referring to the Master’s ability to heal at a phenomenally fast rate. ‘Let me at least clean it for you!’ And with that she hopped off his lap, skirts flying out of the library in a flurry. Grumbling the Master followed, eyes taking one last look over his shoulder, finding the library’s contents still slumbering.

What was it he was hearing? Was it his staff pulling a prank? The icy wind outside? He thought he had lived here long enough to know every single one of the sounds in this castle.

Turning his attention back to the long hallway, he followed Belle, eyes not leaving her again as he admired her slender frame. It had taken weeks for her to finally accept and wear the great many gowns his wife had left behind. But here she was. Wearing a particularly enchanting, silverish white dress, her hair put up nicely and lips curled in a rosy smile. She looked like an angel, and he couldn’t help but think of what his wife had been like. But Belle was more. Not only was she here. She was livelier…. Happier.  

Happiness. It was a strange emotion to feel again. Even now the crooked pull of his lips felt awkward, foreign. But the pretty maiden before him didn’t seem to mind, her large brown eyes looking back at him as he trailed a few steps behind her.

‘Are you gonna hunt me down?’ She teased, eyebrow quirking with a challenge before she upped her step, dainty feet speeding down the long hallway. The Master chuckled.

Happiness. It was strange indeed.

--

‘Oh, you look at that.’ Plumette sighed dreamily, watching as the Master caught the giggling maiden before capturing her in a sweet kiss. The grandmaster clock grumbled something indiscernible, receiving a little gasp from the feather duster as she gave him a scornful look. ‘Say that again.’ She demanded, glaring at the clock that was close to a slumber - least to her amusement.

‘Time..’ He mumbled, before his eyes fully closed.

‘Time.’ She repeated, huffing slightly. “Time this, time that! ‘Tis a tale as old as time’ he says.” Ladieladiela! PFFT!’ She swivelled off to follow the two lovebirds as they hooked their arms around one another.

‘Well. I say it IS time.’

‘Time for what?’ The little teacup joined her from the kitchens, his porcelain body cleaned off and ready for a new serving. The duster eyed him as he panted to keep up, his porcelain foot hopping with great effort to follow her fast feather feet. With a dramatic twirl she halted and turned.

‘Oh..just look at how pitifully you run, dear boy!’ Her long lashes looked down upon him as the poor teacup shyly looked away, embarrassed by his inability to do what any young boy should be able to do. ‘I say, dear boy, that it’s time we get rid of this darn curse, that’s what!’

‘But ..but how?’ He asked desperately. He had long accepted that he would be a failure when it comes to young boys. He couldn’t play, couldn’t run, couldn’t climb trees. All he could do was hop and talk, hop and talk.

‘Well boy! It’s a curse! Curses can be done..and undone!’ And with that she turned back to watch as the Master tenderly folded a rogue hair back behind Belle’s ear, the sight making a small smile tug at Plumette’s pretty duster lips.

Well. That’s how.  

--

‘We are cursed!’ The butcher rose his fist in the air, making the crowd in the great hall of the Les Comtes roar in agreement. ‘First the drought. The hunger. Then the killing of Ismael’s men in the woods…’ He pointed at the seat where a dark haired lady sat, the Grandmaster’s chair next to her empty. ‘..and the sudden death of our Grandmaster!’ - ‘AYE’ - ‘Tis true.’ The gathered men wholeheartedly agreed. More fists rose in the air, before the room calmed again, the mysterious raven maiden standing up from her seat to walk into the middle of the hall, attracting the men’s attention.

With cool eyes she looked around her, the roars dying down until the hall was quiet as mice. She was a beauty to behold and it had been only weeks since they had taken her on as the grandmaster’s wife. With the sudden demise of their good grandmaster, they were left with this calm apparition of pure divinity, her looks closer to that of an angel than of a woman made of flesh and blood. Slowly her long sleeve rose, a pale hand appearing from the burgundy robe.

‘I grieve!’ She chanted, her chest rising deeply before she turned her eyes towards the butcher, his lips falling open ever so slightly - enchanted. ‘So now. What do you suggest we do, good sir? How shall we avenge my dear husband’s death?’ Her voice played her role of grieving wife perfectly, though her cool eyes sparkled with danger.

The butcher swallowed back a lump and stepped in, eyes searching his fellow men for agreement. ‘I’d say..fair lady..’ He bowed his head slightly. ‘..we must avenge him indeed. But first we must find our lord. Ismael! He shall lead us on, as ever he has done.’

The men didn’t chant quite the agreement he expected, his eyes nervously peering left and right as he heard timid whispers about. Finally one man stepped forward; ‘Say nay, is it not strange, that he is not here? Where is he?! Our Grandmaster?!’

The long sleeved arm rose up again, silencing the roaring whispers. ‘We know not.’ She raised her chin slightly, as if the next news was cause for more grief. ‘He is not in his rooms. His bed is unslept. I fear..’ She lowered her gaze to the floor. ‘..he was taken as well.’

‘Tis like the fires!’ A scrawny man with wild eyes stepped forward. ‘The beast is coming into our homes, stealing our wives..children..and now also our new grandmaster!’ The crowd roared in agreement, but then a woman appeared from behind broad backs, her face scowling and voice straining to silence the crowd. ‘NO! SAY NO LIES!’  The rowdy men halted their loud chants. ‘Me and my children were SAVED, not stolen!’

And with that she gave a menacing look at the scrawny man who huffed in annoyance. Another few voices mingled in and before long the whole hall had erupted in another loud quarrel. Nobody was quite sure who was right, and what had been the Beast’s doing. But they sure were ready to avenge themselves, one way, or the other.

--

Halting his step for a moment the Master looked back over Belle’s shoulder, the long hallway before them soon to reach the entree hall. With a mindless lick of his bottom lip he pricked his ears, still not quite sure of what he had heard just now. It had most definitely not been his staff. An..animal perhaps?

Belle’s curious eyes looked up at the Master, her lips still curled in a soft, relaxed smile. ‘What is it?’ She asked gently.

‘A..deer..’ The Master frowned. ‘..or something like it.’

It was unusual for deer to get this close to the castle. They knew well that a predator lived here. And one would only go to a predator’s lair if they were young and naive or..hmmm…Or..Or chased..

Fuck.

Like the devil heard the Master’s inward grunt, the front door was barged open, icy winds spewing a whirl of snow into the entry hall.

FUCK!

Without thinking twice the Master lifted Belle in his arms, his long legs making a sprint for the first room to his right, his brain not even thinking of blocking the doorway; they needed to get out of here. Now.

Was it back? Was it back?!

With all the speed he could muster in his legs he ran into one of the windows - which thankfully were on ground floor level, his shoulder turning forward to brace for impact as they ran straight through the thin glossy pane. Belle yelped in terror, her ever-present smile having melted like snow before the sun as a thousand small shards of glistening daggers now brushed past them, licking their skin. It was a near miracle that the cuts left them unharmed, before the Master landed onto the soft snow outside.

With bewildered eyes he started running, away from the castle, his gaze noting that he hadn’t been wrong. There was indeed a deer before him, her swishing tail pointed up as she too ran for her life, long legs bouncing through the powdery white.

A terror clenched in his heart as he made his way down the many garden terraces, his feet knowing blindly where all roots and bushes were hidden in this fine maze of natural traps.

Behind them the loud growls of a beast were heard, also just as he expected. A deer and a beast, right here in his lair. What was going on? Was he about to lose his domain? Right now, in the broad daylight? FUCK.

He wasn’t the only one whose curiosity peaked. Sweet Belle had finally overcome the initial shock of the sudden chase, her large brown eyes daring to look around as the cold wind cut into her expressive eyes. Tears started to well - be it of shock or the icy air - and as she looked over the Master’s shoulder, all she could see were blurs. It was as if death itself was chasing them, a dark menacing cloud jumping out of the busted window, the cold wind licking at its feet.

‘Sshh.’ The Master hushed, twisting his tiring arms so she could no longer see. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was feeling so sluggish, but with Belle twisting like this in his arms, her weight seemed even greater. Just his luck. On the very moment of a great chase his veins pumped lead and his feet weighed like marble. And no matter how hard he tried to speed up, his pace just wouldn’t quicken.

With a light pant escaping his lips he looked at the deer, the animal now slowly losing ground on him as her legs were far less familiar with this terrain. Her glassy eyes stared back at him with a strange gloss. Almost blue in hue. As if possessed. Strange.

What was going on?

Growling deep in his chest the Master hoisted Belle a little bit higher in his heavy arms, teeth gritting as the deer now finally lost on him, his long legs managing to surpass her before they reached the treeline. Everything in his body seemed to object. Where usually a sprint like this costed him a little effort by daytime, right now it felt like he was running in a fever dream. Pushing hard, but barely moving. Perhaps the sun was particularly strong today - their rays hidden by a thick white nothingness. And perhaps it was the deep snow he was plowing through. Or the cold. Or ..Belle.

He had to admit he had started feeling strange these past couple of days. Especially when near her.

Looking down at the fair maiden, shivering and shaking in his arms, he couldn’t even think of asking her to run for herself. No. If really he wouldn’t make it, he’d stop and defend them as best he could. Even if he felt like a bag of bones. Weak and shaking from running just a half a mile.

--

After what seemed like the longest few minutes in their life, the Master and Belle managed to escape. At least, for now. The Master’s pace immediately dropped to a slow jog, his complexion no longer its usual smooth marble. With a delicate finger Belle traced the heated blush that had crept up his skin, the sensation so foreign as his lips parted in deep exhausted pants. Her cold monster was running hot.

That never happened before, did it now?

Looking back ahead she noticed where they were heading; the Le Comte estate. Which confused her. Why would the Master seek out human interaction, especially now as they were being hunted? Why was he leading them here? Quietly she wrapped her hands more tightly around his vest, the cold biting harshly into their clothes. Perhaps he just wanted to hide out here. Use the presence of humans as a distraction.

But it wasn’t that.

The Master leaped over the small straightshorn bushes and hedges, the garden a pretty geometric pattern of white, before he slowed his pace even more. His long legs stepped onto the main path that led up to the..front door. The front door. He was moving to the front door.

Staring in bewilderment at the Master she wondered if he was as possessed as that weird deer they had seen moments earlier.

‘Master..’ She squeaked, pulling on his vest as he kept heading straight for the door. ‘Master what are you..’

A lacky appeared, opening the door for them, eyes looking down on their slightly disheveled attire and blushing cheeks. He raised his eyebrows, but the Master was quick to respond, lips curling in an apologetic smile. ‘Apologies for being late.’ The Master slowly settled Belle down, her eyes immediately flitting back to the forest - but no movement was seen. ‘I’m afraid the poor lady sprained her ankle and..’ He babbled on, but Belle didn’t listen, her eyes keeping a razor sharp focus on the treeline.

Why had he taken them here? And why were they .. “late”? What did he know, that she didn’t?

‘But of course.’ The lackey smiled, feet stepping back to make way for them to enter, his arm gesturing into the left direction, where the grand hall was situated. ‘They just got started.’ And with that Belle and the Master let out a soft sigh, the heavy front door being closed behind them with a firm shudder.

--

“O, my offense is rank, it smells to heaven;

It hath the primal eldest curse upon ’t,

A brother’s murder. Pray can I not,

Though inclination be as sharp as will.

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,

And, like a man to double business bound,

I stand in pause where I shall first begin

And both neglect.

What if this cursèd hand

Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood?”

The new king spoke after his counselor wished to discuss the matter of his late brother’s sudden demise.

Belle turned in her seat as the Master let out a small cough, eyes wishing to look away from the mouse trap and broom stick, who played rather convincing roles as King Claudius and Polonius. After years of begging, his staff had finally managed to get the Master to sit down and watch, the Hamlet play now being performed in full for the both of them.

With tender fingers Belle brushed over his hand, but his eyes once again evaded hers, his gaze instead turned to their entwined hands.

‘What is it?’ She asked softly, the scene now changing as more characters entered the stage.

‘A good play’s all.’ He curled his lips, but the smile didn’t shine in his eyes.

‘Can we continue m’lady?’ Hamlet asked.

Belle raised her finger, requesting a moment, eyes searching the Master’s frowning appearance.

‘Tis fine.’ He shook his head, eyes finally looking back at Belle. ‘Truly. Do continue.’

--

A brother’s blood. Only as they now walked through the hallways of the Le Comte estate, did the similarities click in Belle’s brain. She knew he was a Le Comte. But as they passed by a few stately portraits, the features were uncanningly close to his. It was near frightening.

Their arms entangled as they made way to the grand hall, where loud roars and cheers erupted from what appeared to be a large crowd. It made for a perfect, quiet entrance, as all attention was aimed at a pale skinned lady that stood in the middle of the hall, arms raised high in the air. ‘...His bed is unslept. I fear..he was taken as well.’

The crowd started shouting again, before another woman stepped in, her appearance easily recognised by the Master, whose breath choked. The woman he saved from the fire.

‘NO! SAY NO LIES!’ She spoke, breaking through the loud ruckus. ‘Me and my children were SAVED, not stolen!’ She roared, her eyes shooting bloody murder at the man who had stoked the disquiet with such disdain. He huffed as two more men stepped in to pull him back into the crowd.  

‘YOU!!!’ A new voice boomed through the air as people were roughly shoved aside, their loud yips and groans following the path that was cleared through the crowd. An enraged man had worked his way to the centre of the mass of people, dark hair hanging before his face. With a loud groan he straightened his back, broad shoulders squaring as a hand rearranged his hair. It took everyone by surprise to see who this wild man was.

Ismael.

‘Do you not see?!’ Ismael snarled angrily, the whole room gasping as they slowly took note of the terribly disheveled state of their Grandmaster. His eyes were bloodshot and veins were drawn blue on his pale skin. ‘HE’S HERE!’ And with that he pointed at the back of the crowd, straight at Belle and the Master.

Instinctively the Master grasped for Belle’s arm to pull her back, but she was ahead of him, feet stepping forward as she spread her arms wide, shielding him instead.

In seconds the whole room was staring at her..and the unfamiliar man behind her.

‘Leave him be, Ismael.’ She bit, her lower lip trembling as the whispers started again.

‘Is that Belle?’ - ‘Wasn’t she dead?’ - ‘Who’s that?’ - ‘Where’s the monster?’

Belle swallowed harshly as a new, wide path was created by the people, a lane of emptiness stretching out between her and Ismael’s feet.

‘Or what..pretty Belle?’ Ismael tilted his head, hands folding behind his back as he straightened his shoulders, returning to his usual haughty upright. ‘Are you going to run again?’ He taunted.

The Master snapped his eyes at the taunting smile of Ismael, lips wishing to curl up in a snarl, tongue already flaking out to ...to..He licked his lips again, then more specifically his teeth. Tooth after smooth tooth, they were all there. But different. Furrowing his brow he now realised why he had felt so out of breath in the forest. He was..he was..

With slow, measured steps the young Grandmaster started his way to Belle and the Master, chin tilted upwards and red burning eyes telling of the hellfire he had come walking from. He looked like a dead man walking, jaw tight and eyes deep in their sockets. Positively sickly.

As he slowly narrowed the space until there was just a few feet between them, he quirked his head again. The movement felt so unnatural. Almost as if he was possessed. The Master felt a shiver run down his spine, the worst of his nightmares coming true.

History repeats. History repeats. History repeats.

Belle didn’t notice him. Her eyes were instead transfixed on the strange being that Ismael had become. His nose inhaled, as if he had just stepped outside and the flowers were abloom, his lips curling in an empty smile.

Click.

It clicked in her head. This was exactly like the Master had been when she had just met him. Strange. Inhuman. Obsessed with smell. He was one too. Ismael was one too. And from the looks of it he had some trouble hunting, his skin as deadly pale as the Master’s had been after the long week without feeding. She had to run. To get away. To…looking around she saw all the people. Gruff bakers, butchers and clergymen, all staring at her with bafflement. They probably still thought she had something to do with the curse. No. She shouldn’t run. Not this time.

‘Looks like I’m not running.’ Belle finally spoke, the words escaping with a pent up little sigh from her chest. The crowds had gone quiet, whispers finally silenced, as none wanted to miss a single word.

‘We should go.’ The Master’s fingers melted around her waist, begging for her attention. But from the way she swatted away his hand, he knew that she was a lost cause. And he understood. Ismael had taken everything from her. From the night at the feast, where he chased her until bloody and broken. To the condemnation of her father, who now lay cold in the ground. And then there was the here and now. He was chasing her again. Wishing to take away what little she possessed.

Her sweet rose.

There was little the Master could do, his limbs heavy and feet nailed to the ground. The whole world seemed slow. Dull. Strange. He had lost it. He must have lost it. And now all he could do was hope that Ismael would make a mistake. Make the people turn against him. He did look sickly after all.

‘Did you take something that was not yours, milord?’ Belle cocked her eyebrow at Ismael, her pretty face a mask of calmth.

For a moment the Grandmaster didn’t seem to respond, death staring in his empty eyes. Or perhaps it was hunger. The Master knew that sensation all too well. He had been there. He had smelled the rich delight of fresh blood, he had heard the loud beating of a hundred hearts around him. To remain calm and composed in such a moment, was near impossible.

And so it was.

The young Grandmaster awoke from his contemplation, lips pulling back in a slip as long fangs were revealed. In a whirl of seconds the whole atmosphere changed and Ismael had chosen his fate. People gasped in shock and feet started to flee in all directions, wishing to get away, whilst others tried to find weapons.

The Master also chose his fate - hoping this would not be the day he’d regain life, only to lose it again so soon. Again he tried to pull Belle away, but she stood her ground, head shaking one solid “no”.

FUCK. Fucking stupid stubborn..stubborn...ARGH! His mind reeled at the sight of his Belle, her eyes feraly staring back in Ismael’s vampiric gaze. It both alarmed and aroused him.

Oh..Why after a long life of unmeasured strength, did the Gods choose for him to be weak as of right now?!

With widened eyes he sprinted off to a fireplace close-by, hands grabbing for a hot poker that lay abandoned in the roaring fire, feet evading the many people who ran to and fro in a messy hurry.

In the meantime Ismael had lunged forward, closing the distance between him and Belle, evil hands grasping at her face and hair, wishing to pull her jaw aside so he could go in for a taste. But Belle was fierce and headstrong. And definitely not afraid. With stomping feet and gritting teeth she fought back, nails digging into whatever facial feature she could reach - hopefully Ismael’s eyes.

And it wasn’t just the people that had started to become restless. Also the room itself seemed to fill with a certain disquiet. Windows trembled, before finally they swung open, long curtains drifting high in the wind. It was something out of a beautiful horror story, the vampire trying to sink his fangs in buttery skin, as long streams of heavy red velvet danced on the icy winds. Like blood. Flowing. Dancing. Licking.

Too busy with the struggle with Belle - and her smell - Ismael had lost sight of the Master as he hurled himself at his fellow vampire. Near ready to strike his fangs into her porcelain skin, a loud cry erupted from his lips instead.

The Master appeared from behind Ismael, the hot poker shoved mercilessly between cold ribs, aiming true. A vampire may be strong. But not invincible. And so as daylight lay dust to Ismael’s skin and blood bubbled on his screaming lips, Ismael let go off his tasty snack, poor Belle dropping in surprise from the dying vampire’s grasp. Anguish shrilled through the air as the monster yelped in pain, the hot iron firing straight through his icy heart. Ending his reign of terror. Ending his attempts at pouring poison on the lives around him.

For a long moment the world seemed to have gone mute. The people gawked at the heap of limbs and bubbling, foaming blood that dripped onto the stone, their young Grandmaster no more. And the wind continued to blow, though now far less menacingly, the heavy velvets drifting aimlessly through the curious crowd.

In a mere few weeks the people had lost not one, but two Grandmasters. And how! The first one drowned in his own bile. And the other? The other was a monster...a monster! And a dead one at that, his crimson lifeblood now seeping slowly onto the floor as slow whispers started to travel through the crowd.

Things started to click for the people as well. Gaps were being filled and questions answered.

Ismael had been the beast! It made sense! As of late he had been acting strange. In fact..vile! He had spoken in strange tongues, spat his wine at guests, gnarled like a wolf and roared like a storm. And before that he had lead his people in the wrong way on multiple occasions, the most vivid memory being that of the night of the fires.

And as the whispers circulated, the saved woman from the fires stepped forward again, hands pushing aside the crowds to get to Belle and the Master.

‘TIS YOU!’ The woman cried, her arms instinctively wrapping around his shocked frame. ‘Tis you. OH may God be with ye good lord.’ She looked up from her tight embrace, eyes watering. ‘You saved us.’ The Master swallowed awkwardly, not sure how to respond. He hadn’t been hugged by a stranger in..well..literally centuries.

‘Twas you who grabbed us from the fire, no?’ The woman then asked, realising she might be mistaken. Slowly the Master nodded, blue eyes looking down at her blushing face. ‘It was..I. Yes.’

‘OH blessed be!’ She exclaimed, her next attempt at hugging failing as a new person entered the little get together.

The fayen woman with the raven hair.

Her piercing blue eyes studied the Master as she pushed aside the last of the men who were standing in her way, her lips falling apart in a gasp of exaggerated surprise.

‘MY SON!’ She exclaimed, confusing the Master even more as he immediately recognised her as Morgana.

She was no woman! She was a witch!

Searching for Belle, he quickly pulled her into his side, her large brown eyes looking between him and Morgana to realise that he knew this strange vixenous woman. Fighting away from his grip yet again she stepped forward, brows furrowing as her finger pointed out at the Master’s “mother”.

‘You are his mother? You?!’ Her eyes lit with fire, and Morgana looked in amazement at the fierce little thing.

‘And who might you be?’ Morgana asked, her head quirking in bemusement.

Belle lowered her finger and balled both hands into fists, tongue flaking over her bottom lip. She had to try her best not to fly into the woman’s hair at once.

‘The one who didn’t abandon him.’ She growled.

Morgana smiled, then looked back at the Master. ‘Tis true then. You have returned from the dead and I embrace you warmly.’ She swiped past belle and hugged the Master, long neck stretching as she reached her lips out to whisper in the shell of his ear. ‘What sweet rose you bring.’

Belle watched in bafflement as the devious devil woman let out a theatrical shrill of joy, fingers tracing over her “son’s” cheek. ‘I lose one son, but welcome back another. What cruel faith this day brings. But oh, how joyous am I to embrace you again. You see..Such tragedies have befallen us…’ Slowly she disentangled her branchlike fingers from the Master’s mane, her attention now aimed back at the crowd.

‘..but no more!’ Her eyes trailed to the heap of limbs that had been Ismael - his mouth foaming with blood. ‘Today the tragedies end. And I say we celebrate!’

--

It was like time hadn’t passed. Like Belle was again at that party a few months prior, the whole village cheering and dancing because the beast was gone. And yet, everything was different now. Looking to her left it was not her father she saw. It was the Master, his eyes giving her a sympathetic smile as he listened to an endless stream of words that erupted from the woman he had saved from that fire.

And looking to her right, to the hallway where she had ran off the last time, there was again a light trail of blood - though this time it was Ismael’s blood, not hers.

She hadn’t felt like dancing then. And she most definitely didn’t feel like dancing now.

Even as the villagers deemed her and her handsome saviour as trustworthy, welcoming them with pats on the shoulder and small smiles, the atmosphere felt off. Like..something lingered here still. But maybe that was also just her projection. Her not daring to believe that it was over. Done. The happy end. Book closed.

Finally, the woman from the fires was pulled away for a dance, leaving the Master’s arms open for Belle to slide into, their feet not opting to dance, but to stay, her head leaning into his warm chest.

Warm..chest. Wait…

Settling back a little, Belle looked back up at the Master. In all the fuss and stress, she hadn’t noticed what he had noticed. Hesitantly brushing her finger over his cheek she could feel the gentle warmth that spread there. She could smell him. He had a smell about him. Which was both new, and refreshingly nice. The Master’s lips curled in a careful smile, allowing her to study his changed appearance, fingers touching and eyes studying.

And then, finally, her finger moved to the corner of his lip, her eyes searching his for confirmation before she carefully pulled it up. A gasp escaped her rosy lips.

‘It’s done.’ The Master nodded, his smile growing.

‘But..how?’ Belle frowned, the question remaining unanswered as the raven haired lady returned. Her sly act of motherly warmth not yet dropped as she procured a scarlet rose from her long sleeve, the crowd around them now starting a dance circle. People smiled, feet jumped, patterns whirled and the music whipped. But Belle, the Master and Morgana had little eye for them, as the three of them shared looks.

‘I beg you forgive me for our logy meeting, earlier.’ Morgana curtsied. ‘I do speak in honesty when I say you must be the most beautiful of the land. And, I understand wholeheartedly why my son has taken a liking to you.’ Her lips curled in a smile, but jealousy laced her words. Then, with a controlled force, she offered the rose to Belle, the poor girl yelping in surprise and pain. Its jaggedy thorns ripped through her palm, hot blood oozing from the wound.

‘Ai!’ Morgana expressed, not half as surprised as it was probably foul play from the start. With fascinated blues she watched as the Master grasped for Belle’s hand, soft lips kissing and soothing where it ached, the rose falling discarded on the ground.

So it was true. The curse was lifted.

With a wry smile she looked at the rose as it fell to the ground, blood glistening on its petals.

Too bad that..

‘What is this sorcery?’ The Master whispered through gritted teeth, his dark gaze aimed at her, disturbing her thoughts. Morgana chuckled, then shrugged her shoulders. Sorcery? Did he mean the curse she had lain on him? The deer she had sent his way? Or the ..rose?

Just as the thought whirled through the branches of her wicked brain, she watched as Belle started to wobble, her hands grasping for the Master’s chest as dainty legs gave way. Such a loss. Such a pretty girl.

Too pretty.

With a theatrical gasp Morgana watched as the Master caught Belle in his arms, her body hanging limp like a sleeping corpse.

Much better.

With Belle held in a tight embrace and tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, the Master looked back up at Morgana. The question he posed earlier couldn’t have had a better timing, Morgana mused.

‘Tis love.’ Morgana sighed, making the Master cry out in anguish.

Nothing could ever end well, could it? One moment he regained life. Only to lose it again a moment later. Feeling up Belle’s throat her heartbeat was but a whisper, face calm and restful like she was in a deadly sleep.

‘Hahahahaha.’ A sudden burst of laughter erupted from Morgana’s cherry lips, making the Master’s anguish greater. ‘Oh hush..my son.’ She taunted, then sighed. ‘I just required proof, ‘s all.’

The Master blinked in horror at the wicked witch. The whole world seemed to be unwilling to see what a grievous bitch she was. SHE was the monster. And she made her lair wherever and whenever it suited her. With a snap of her claw-like fingers she could enchant any and every man and woman. She did as she pleased. But he wasn’t sure why. Was she truly vile? Or had she good reason?

‘Proof of what?’ He bit through his tears.

‘Hmm..you know..what.’ Morgana gave him a cold stare, the laughter of seconds earlier melted away, making place for her true nature. With a click of her tongue she eyed Belle. So pale. So frail. So cold. ‘So..very pretty.’ She tutted.

It was then he had enough. With a careful bow he laid Belle to the ground, eyes having a hard time to break away from his dying love. ‘You killed her.’ He whimpered.

‘Well. Then bring her back.’ Morgana also lowered to her knees, head tilting in fascination as the Master’s watery pools of misery looked at her.

And the people? They continued to dance. Like enchanted. No. Possessed.

With a long sniff of the nose, the Master retraced his finger over Belle’s cheek, her heartbeat no longer to be found beneath her marble skin.

‘No..’ He trembled. ‘No please. Please Belle.’ Anguish tore through his breaking heart, his next movement rash and unpredicted. With a deadly force he picked and pushed the rose into Morgana’s chest, its sharp thorns cutting like knives into her pale skin.

‘You keep your vileness...mother!’ He spat.

In the initial wave of shock Morgana couldn’t help but laugh, the irony not lost on her before her laughter too died. With awkward sputters of her luscious lips she reached for slurred words, that were hard to hear even if you leaned in real close. ‘Tcan’t be.’ And with that she sank to the ground too, her face melting into one of eternal sleep.

So lost in his pain and tears, the Master did not notice how the people around him were unleashed from their magical chain, the whole world sighing with relief as the witch had been defeated.

No, all the Master could do was cry. His lips whispering wordlessly, he begged for Belle to come back. With rubbing hands he wished to warm her skin, wake her. But curses were evil. Hard to break.

Was she truly dead?

After centuries of agony he found his love, only to lose it by the prick of a fucking ROSE?! ARGH!! NO! No...no…

‘Belle..’ He begged, his hands lifting up her sleeping form, wishing to keep her as close to his shattered heart as he could.

‘Tis a witch!’ A voice cried behind him, making the angry anguish burn up in his chest. But when he looked up, he noticed what he had not noticed earlier. The body of Morgana was now no longer of lady-like form. Twisted and evil, skin wrinkly and warted, she looked as picture book perfect a description of a witch. Cursed by her own trappings, it had caused her demise.

More voices erupted from the disenchanted crowd, people rushing to come to aid, hands pulling away Morgana’s corpse to get to Belle.

Blinking away some of his tears, the Master looked back down at Belle. With a tender brush of love he kissed her cooling lips finally, one last time.

The poisoned rose crumpled and a clock rang.

It was a tale as old as time.

A tune as old as song.

For centuries he had felt the long minutes melt into hours. Into days. Into aggravating months, years, a lifetime. But time reminded him also of how precious it was. Or had been. The lone years had been forgotten so simply when he stood there one day in the forest, only to hear a sweet voice tinkle through the trees. For a moment he did not exist. He was like a bird on the branches. He watched her as she spoke, rosy lips curling in one of those dream-haunting smiles.

That day he finally reinstalled that darn mirror in the hall. Just one mirror. The rest still locked and stocked away. One mirror to remind him that he existed. That he was no ghost. He was real.

That day he looked upon his form for the first time in centuries. Sharp and pale. Fanged and broken.

Bittersweet and strange

Finding you can change

Learning you were wrong

Without fail he would listen to her then everyday. He would re-read her words in his lair. He’d even go out and trade with merchants far and wide to retrieve as many copies of her book as he could get his hands on; he would have them all if he could. At some point they stacked up high in his room, alongside the many other books he had read in hope that he would learn more about the female heart...and soul.

His every waking hour - which were many - was invested in learning. Reading. Reclaiming what little hold he had of life. Belle was his anchor, his lifeline. She brought a fickle sliver of hope back in his lonely days. She brought him a soul.

‘Please.’

Certain as the sun

Rising in the East

‘Please..’ A finger grazed up his cheek.Two large brown eyes looked up into his tear bleeding eyes and he wondered if he was dreaming, his eyes starting to blink furiously, but the eyes before him remained. What..? OH! OH my! She is awake! With a tremble of his lips he felt his dying heart revived, her lips curling a sleepy smile.

‘Anything Belle.’ He smiled in disbelief. She sniffled, still slightly hazed, before pulling his hand to her thigh, making his cheeks flush in mild embarrassment.

‘Belle..we are..’ He wished to alarm her of their audience, to which some people chuckled, whispers erupting in the crowd. It had always been a weird girl, that Belle.

And then the Master realised what she wanted him to find; his fingers felt the outlines of the book beneath her skirts. Of course. The book. He smiled and reached down her pockets - receiving some silent gasps from the crowd - before retrieving it. The people laughed even louder. Oh! And Belle and her books!! Oh, Belle!

Tale as old as time

Song as old as rhyme

‘You want me to read?’ The master chuckled.

‘No.’ She slowly shook her head and smiled. ‘Twas just that I was right.’

Beauty and the Beast

--

Church bells rang in the morning air, but for once they did not hurt the Master’s ears. In fact, he couldn’t imagine a more welcoming sound at this very moment. With sure strides he walked down the path, the crowding numbers on the square indicating just how packed the chapel had to be. Their faces smiled, and napkins waved in the air, as people wished to bestow gifts and well-wishes. But they would have to save that for later. With a practised, but well-felt smile, their new Grandmaster thanked them, his cheeks glowing with a thrilling buzz.

Before him the large wooden doors to the chapel arose behind side-stepping people, the path to his future cleared as the January sun warmed the back of his tailcoat.

Outside a grumpy old man awaited him, hand folded around his hip as beady eyes peered from beneath thick grey eyebrows. He smelled of wood and grime. ‘Twas about time!’ The man grumbled, tilting his head, gesturing the Master to step inside. ‘Thank you..grandfather time.’ The Master chuckled, offering the man a teasing wink before finally stepping inside.

‘Okay..GO GO GO.’ Lumiere’s wig bounced somewhere at the altar, the small man quick to spur the little orchestra into motion, a soft music warming from their strings and bells.

The Master smiled, halting his steps to allow his ever chaotic staff a moment to get a hold of the situation. They were still not entirely used to their regained human form, but the gladness did beam off their glowing cheeks.

And then, with a grounding breath, the Master prepared himself for the first day of the rest of his life.

It was time, indeed.

--

‘Are you catching up with that?’ Belle sniffled after their staff left the room. Soft candles casted a soft glow around their shared bedroom, a fire burning in the hearth.

‘What is that..wife?’ His smile grew even wider, making Belle chuckle. Without further ado the Master stripped himself of his shirt, the planes of skin and hair underneath unveiling a new life. Like Adam stood before Eve, he stood before Belle, her appreciative eyes travelling a long way down his muscular physique. A very naked physique. He had changed so little, and yet so dramatically. The shapes were the same. But the touch was different. He was no longer hard and marble, but soft and warm.

Though not soft, mushy soft. He made sure to flex his muscles teasingly as she looked back up his large biceps.

‘Very well..HUSBAND.’ Belle grinned and got up from the bed, her long hair falling in soft brown waves over her night gown. ‘I’m just saying that you haven’t stopped smiling since.-’

‘You.’ The master interjected.

The both of them laughed.

‘Ai.. Henry.’ His name still tasted so new and sweet on her lips as he had only dared to share it so recently. But he could keep no secrets from her. No more. They now shared everything. Heart, mind..soul.

‘Tis so.’ She smiled, breaking through his thoughts with a brush of her gentle fingers, Cupid’s wings fluttering in his heart.  

And with that they kissed sweetly, until death did them part.

The End.

Roll-credits reading music: Le Sextet à Claques - Laryngo-rhino-phraryngite

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​  @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly​ @elinesama​

Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @wednesdaybraids @othersideofforty @starstruckkittyangel​ @strangerliaa​ @omgkatinka​  

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message!

--

Final author’s note: Thanks for reading my loves! Are you feeling the post fic reading buzz/blues? Here’s a few things to keep you entertained: 

Listen to The Monster’s Lair Playlist

Check out my vampy mood blurb that inspired this fic

Read the original version of Beauty and the Beast: Apuleius’ Cupid and Psyche

Make Lumière proud and read some Hamlet by ye good ol’ Shakespeare

Read another vampire!Henry long fic: @viking-raider​‘s Fangs Deep

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

How do you think the Grima and Saruman plot in Rohan would have gone down if Theodwyn had still been alive? Or Eomund? Or Edhild?

An interesting question! Though I think it’s one that’s almost impossible to answer simply because we know so little of the women.

Theodwyn, as a woman in Rohan already would have had limited access to direct political power. And, as a widow tending to her husband’s estate on behalf of her son, would likely not have been very present at court in Edoras. I suspect she would not have left Aldburg that often as she had the Marshallate to oversee and her children to raise. 

The tl;dr is: I suspect her being alive would not have been relevant to the success or failure of Grima and Saruman. 

-

Longer musings on Theodwyn, Elfhild and Eomund: 

We know very little about Theodwyn save that she was Theoden’s sister and died of heartbreak after Eomund went and got himself killed. Indeed, we know basically nothing about her that is useful in determining how she might have intervened had she become aware of Saruman’s plans. 

Personally, I don’t get badass powerhouse vibes from her, honestly. Which is totally fair and I don’t think every woman needs to be Eowyn-I-Am-Not-Like-The-Other-Girls Strong Female Character to be worthy of being considered interesting and dynamic. But yeah, I get a very passive vibe from Theodwyn. But that’s just my read on her. 

Theodwyn and Elfhild suffer the way almost all women do in Tolkien’s world of having almost no story and zero characterisation. Lothiriel, Arwen to a lesser degree but still, Finduilas etc. are really nothing more than names. Which is frustrating! and it drives me batty. 

For both Theodwyn and Elfhild all we know are names, who their male relatives are, and that they were able to make heirs for their husbands. All the important things, clearly. 

Based on Eowyn’s position at court (and her deep frustration and anger about it), I think it can be safely argued that women don’t play a strong role in the political world of Rohan. Eowyn describes her life as being in a gilded cage - no real power, limited agency. I think that’s very telling of the role Theodwyn and Elfhild would have occupied.

Not to say that they wouldn’t have been able to influence and inform decisions made by their spouses, but they would not have been privy to war councils or the daily Politicking that Theoden and Eomund got up to. Men are clearly the dominant leaders in Rohan and the gender roles and expectations in this country run along a strict binary that favours a militarized hyper-masculinity. 

While Elfhild and Theodwyn would have defended their homes when the men went to war (as Eowyn does in the books), it would have been only if no other “appropriate” man was present to taken on this role (again, as happens in the books. Though props to Hama, real MVP, and member of the Eowyn fanclub). 

Any influence Elfhild or Theodwyn had over the decisions of Theoden or Eomund would have been behind the scenes and very much a “soft power” approach. And this is assuming their spouses were open to listening to them. 

I know we all wish this wasn’t the case, and we want an Elfhild and Theodwyn who were super active and influential in the politics and manoeuvrings of their country -  but based on the text, that probably wasn’t the case. It’s a fandom head-canon. 

-

Now, all of this said, Elfhild being alive may have caused a bit of a hiccup or challenge for Grima exerting control over Theoden. However, Grima is very good at manipulating people and situations, so could possibly have undermined their relationship. We don’t know enough about Theoden and Elfhild as a couple to really determine how that would have gone. 

Also, remember, no one really knew of Grima’s treason. When Gandalf went to warn Theoden in October of 3018 it was about the incursions and plans of Saruman. It’s unclear if he made any mention of Grima’s role in it. It can be interpreted that Eomer knew, or at the very least had suspicions, but otherwise I think we can safely assume, based on the text, no one else knew. 

(Eomer can also be read as not having known at all; he was under house arrest because he threatened Grima with death in the king’s hall which is against the law. And that, it’s implied, was over Grima ogling Eowyn.)

Grima was seen as a trusted advisor to the king - if anything, Eilfhild may have leaned on him as her husband started “ailing” and become more and more unable to fulfill his duties as king. Theodred seems to have been fairly absent as heir so I don’t know how much of the day to day duties he was able, or willing, to undertake. 

So, the dynamics of the court during Theoden’s witchcraft-imposed infirmity, may have been really interesting and not as black/white as it might come across at first blush. 

As noted at the top, Theodwyn would have been managing the Third Marshalate until Eomer was of age, so she wouldn’t have been very present at court. And after he came of age, she would probably remain in Aldburg to help manage things while he was off seeing to his other duties and working to try and slow Saruman’s steady creep into Rohan. So, I don’t see her having lived after Eomund’s death heavily impacting anything. Also, like with Elfhild, we don’t know what the relationship was between Theodwyn and her brother. 

So if just the two women had survived, not Eomund, I can see Elfhild more than Theodwyn posing a potential roadblock for Grima and Saruman. But, that’s only if: 

a) she knew about, or suspected, Grima’s treason;

b) she and Theoden were close and they had a relationship that could weather whatever wrenches Grima would throw into the mix; and 

c) she were the kind of person to take a very active political role to fill the void left by Theoden’s absence. 

Like Theodwyn, we don’t really know who Elfhild was as a person. Was she the sort to try and take control of a situation? or was she more likely to have simply seen to her own duties and tended her husband without really getting involved (In the way that Eowyn tended her uncle as he “ailed” but didn’t get involved politically at court. But a wife has privileges a niece does not). 

-

However, if Eomund had been alive that might have influenced events in a different way. Maybe. It would mean another member of the House of Eorl to contend with and neutralize, on Grima’s side. However, Eomund was hot headed and prone to doing really stupid shit without thinking and I suspect Grima could easily manipulate him into either a compromising situation or to ride to his death. 

Eomund being alive would have freed Eomer up to focus more on his efforts against Saruman, which he wasn’t able to do to the degree he wanted to as Third Marshal (he laments about this to Aragorn when the four three hunters first arrive in Rohan). 

Having the full family alive would also have provided an additional barrier/more people for Theoden to lean on making it more difficult for Grima to wheedle his way into Theoden’s head. It also may have changed the dynamic at court and kept Theoden himself more hopeful about the future which may have, in turn, informed Grima’s own decisions about how to approach the war with Sauron and its potential outcomes. 

Grima gave into Reasonable Despair, which I suspect was partially fuelled by Theoden’s own personal misery about his aging, his perceived inability to rise to the occasion, his own despair at the future. That’s a contagious mindset. Despair is easy to fall into and it breeds more despair. Hope is hard. But, if you have a lot of people around who are relying on you, who are supporting you, who are helping you - that changes things entirely. 

-

I suppose the long and short is: WhO kNoWs??? hahaha

I’m very sorry about the novel this became but thank you so much for the ask! I really enjoyed gaming things out and I hope it somewhat answered your question <3 <3 

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Tower #2 (1/2/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Direct follow-up to this chat log.

Rhedd @sackreligion ducks in on Alastor @usedhearts and Alastor @dontasktheradiodemon. He’s eaten a chunk of soap. These things happen.

Anyway Dontask Alastor wants heelies now.

Rhedd

Hiccup. A soap bubble flits down from the ceiling, so innocuously. And then another, until a *certain radio demon* can be seen if one only looks up. He's peeking his head out upside down from a black portal.

usedhearts Alastor

The sound doesn't make Alastor jump, or start. He doesn't even look up from his phone for a second or two after. But then, slowly, his eyes lift, trailing up the wall until they lock on Rhedd, dangling out of a portal from the ceiling. Well!

"Can I.....help you?" He asks, raising a brow.

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

Alastor is ALMOST out of hearing range when his alternate speaks. He immediately ducks back in, curious. “Oh!” His eyes light up. ... More. “Well, speak of the devil!”

Rhedd

His hand raises (or lowers?) and though his mouth doesn't move at all, his voice is heard.

<<HELLO! This isn't a HIDEY PLACE, is IT? I thought I'd DROP IN and TUNE IN to my FAVORITE FREQUENCY but I MAY have THE WRONG NUMBER! HAHA!>>

usedhearts Alastor

Oh! Were they playing that game? Alastor's teeth lock in place as well, and when he speaks, its far more tinny and static backed than before.

"_Not to much a hidey place as a tucked away place! Not sure which frequency that is, but there are a lot here! Numbers and dials and buttons, oh my!_"

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

Y’all are being silly, Alastor’s talking with his actual mouth. “It would make for a poor hidey place, a broadcasting station inside a lighthouse! Why, we’re just about the most noticeable point on the island, ha! If we’re not broadcasting on your favorite frequency already, I’m sure we could pirate it!”

Rhedd

He slips back into the portal, only to crawl out of someone else's shadow. Feels like seaweed.

<<WELL! That's POSSIBLE! After all, WHEREVER I AM, they! ARE! >>

He's wearing a horrible hoodie, shutter shades and look at that glittery black lipstick. His ear tag jingles.

He's petting the red radio in his satchel. And as SOON as Rhedd opens his mouth, a sea of foam escapes. He looks like he's in pain,

usedhearts Alastor

Oh that terrible hoodie. Alastor's decidedly NOT looking at it. Instead he looks at the foam coming out of Rhedd's mouth.  This time he doesn't stop his mouth from moving as he speaks.

"What in the world happened with you, my good man! You look positively rabid!"

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

He takes one look and asks mildly, “Tide pod?”

Look, it’s not a bad guess. He’s been there. He understands.

Rhedd

"-oap!"

His voice is more akin to a gurgle, and he lifts a finger, opening a portal to shove his head through. There's nothing, no sound, but he's clearly straining....

And then he pulls his head back out, coughing and wiping his mouth as more bubbles pop up.

"Took a BITE! Couldn't RESIST!"

usedhearts Alastor

"Was it one of those ones that look like cupcakes? Or that are just shaped in general? Always tempted to take a bite out of one of those!" Alastor laughed, his foot bopping to unheard music where it sat on the table.

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

Alastor cracks up when Rhedd's head disappears. He manages to wheeze to his still-headed alternate, "Headless horseman." Cue the neighing sound effect.

When all of Rhedd is back in the room, he says, "Nice of you to return to us! I was afraid you were *heading out!*" He laughs again, slinging an arm around Rhedd's shoulders. "But come now, I'm sure the taste is atrocious, but it's not worth losing your head over it! What have you been going around saying that's so awful you need to wash out your mouth so thoroughly? Hah!"

Rhedd

OHHHH! He loves a good joke, ESPECIALLY at his expense.

"OHH! AHAH! HAHAHA! No, NO! It didn't look ANYTHING like FOOD! I just took it and BIT IT without HESITATION! And due to my NATURE when IT! COMES! TO! FOOD!" He taps at his mouth, then drags his claw down his throat, playing a very cartoonish GULPING sound. His own audience laughs, "Ideas POP IN and I am UNABLE to hold myself BACK from them!"

usedhearts Alastor

The jokes have him and his audience laughing as well! Some high chortles! This is the good stuff, being around other hims!

"Ah, yes, I see! The classic impulse to put something in your mouth and the other classic inability to stop! I understand completely. Sometimes you just need to take a bite out of the fake fruit!"

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

"I hope you're getting enough *real* food, though!" He gives Rhedd a critical look, has he been fed? "How full is that tank right now? Aside from the suds."

Rhedd

Rhedd grins at the two Radio Demons looking at him. What fun, having so much attention. He nods his head at the one, and a winning buzzer sound plays, before Rhedd turns to the other Alastor addressing him. He opens his mouth and a burp comes, to which he immediately covers his mouth with both hands, just after bubbles came up. His audience *roars* with laughter, and his ears flick, the tag jingling. *De nada.*

<<I beg your PARDON, friends! I've got NOTHING in my stomach, but it SURE! IS! CLEAN!>>

usedhearts Alastor

That's enough to get Alastor up out of his seat. His sauntering over with his usual, unhurried but jaunty, step, and then his arm goes around Rhedd. Just ignore the sweatshirt, Alastor. Be strong, be strong for Mother.

"Well that simply won't DO! Can't have another one of us wandering around with only bubbles in his gut, now can we? What sort of duplicates would we be?" The back of his free hand is on his forward and he's in Full Drama mode.

"Oh the humanity! What little we have left, that is!" He looked over at other Alastor and winked. "Think we need to correct this situation, don't you, good chum?"

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

Just two Alastors smothering Rhedd from either side, no big deal, he doesn't mind being trapped in all these arms does he? Alastor winks back. "I think we do! I've got the leftovers from a few culinary experiments left in the kitchen, it should be enough to fill a plate. Knowing your appetite, though, I think we'll need more than that!"

Rhedd

He doesn't mind being trapped in all of these arms at all, he has more than enough layers on to avoid *feeling* it, as it were. Though he felt a little bad for burping--there goes another one. Rhedd winces, though his mouth is still covered.

<<I would be HONORED to come to DINNER! I was in the MIDDLE of a RIVETING GAME of HIDE AND SEEK with my X-0-X-0, but before THAT I was IN THE MOOD for a MEAL!>>

usedhearts Alastor

"That's the good thing about games-- you can always continue with them after eating! The number of times I scarfed down dinner as a child to go running back out to play tag, well, they're incalculable!" He laughed and shared a look with Alastor before starting to steer Rhedd out of the broadcasting tower.

"Let's get that meal and then you can get back to your game!"

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

"Are you hiding or seeking? We'll stand guard at the kitchen door on your behalf if we have to!"

Rhedd

<<SEEKING!>> It's actually so easy to steer him, because he's leaning back on his heelies. Literally just steer him in the direction you need him to go. <<My! Dear! Engi! Is off HIDING!>>

usedhearts Alastor

"Engi? Not sure if I'm familiar with that nickname. Is it another one of us?" Zoom there they go.

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

Alastor's been entirely distracted by the heelies. He's staring at them. "Where did you get *those?*"

Rhedd

Rhedd opens his mouth, and just. Drools out soap. Amazing. He covers his mouth again as his eyes change to radio dials. Everything is fine.

<<Oh, these? Do you LIKE THEM? I picked them UP after a MEAL! Fun little THINGS! I can imagine myself, GLIDING through the SCENE!>>

usedhearts Alastor

"They certainly up your maneuverability! It's so easy to guide you along! _Allons-y!_" He catches sight of that soap drool. That's going to need to be taken care off. And he's summoning a hankie to hand off to Rhedd. There you are old boy.

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

"I want a pair."

Uh. He pets Rhedd's back. Hopefully dinner isn't going to be interrupted by him vomiting everywhere.

Rhedd

Absolutely he'll be fine. He takes the hankie. He's almost out of soap.

<<I can GET YOU ONE! I'm SURE of it! Just have to FIND another DEMON WEARING some!>>

usedhearts Alastor

"Think! You could install them in your dress shoes-- no one would see it coming!" He laughed.

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

"Just make sure they're the same size as me!" Studio laughter. "That's exactly what I was thinking! One second I'm tap dancing, the next I'm literally gliding across the floor! Imagine that!"

Rhedd

<<What an ACT! They take some GETTING USED TO so he CAREFUL you don't BREAK A LEG while you BREAK A LEG! HAHA!>>

usedhearts Alastor

"Yes! Practice makes perfect, after all! Don't want to be falling all over yourself like a baby deer!" He laughed.

dontasktheradiodemon Alastor

And then they went off to get food. Further banter is probably involved. Musical numbers MIGHT be involved.