#and then they tried to do basically the same thing again with madeleine and well. conceptually fine maybe but the execution just doesn't

[weidli]

in my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

[sustainably-du-mortain]

Hi! ♥️ 4, 17 and 22 from the nsfw asks for whichever OC(s) you feel like answering for?

thank you so much for the ask seren!!! <33 I was going to do these for Côme, but then I started thinking about Mads, and then Jonah, so I guess you're getting all three of my detectives. answer below the cut

4. Are they more of a dom, sub, or switch? If applicable, are they a top, bottom, or vers?

Côme

Although they have a preference for subbing, that's mostly due to lack of experience. And despite the fact that I do feel like this preference might persist, I think they'd be more into switching in the future. For the other question, as of today, I don't have the answer.

Madeleine

Mads is a sub. She's tried it the other way and didn't really like it. She'd be up to trying again with Morgan, although she's pretty sure that might not change her opinion. As for the other question, Maddie prefers being on top. She struggled (and still is struggling) a lot with bodily autonomy, so although she's more comfortable being submissive, she's not ready to give up control any more and being a bottom freaks her out too much at the moment because of that. But this, I feel, might evolve as she gets more at ease with Morgan and she might be more into versing in the future.

Jonah

Jonah is a switch. He loves both dynamics. Whether he chooses one or another depends on the person he's with and his mood. The answer is the same for the rest of the question.

17. What's their go-to safe word?

Côme

They aren't very experienced, so they've actually never had to use one or even had a conversations about safe words before. So, I feel like, when the need arises, there are high chances that they would have forgotten to set one and they probably would blurt out a sea creature or dino name, as it would be all they could think of. Although I have to say it's quite effective and kind of kills the mood. But I think they'd use that word as their safe word after that.

Madeleine

For Mads, I think it would be something pretty basic, something like 'stop' or 'red'.

Jonah

For Jonah, I feel like it would be something pretty simple too, but this time in French, so that it doesn't get mistaken during role-play. So, something like 'arrête' (stop). He also has a non-verbal signal, for cases where he might not be able to speak, which his snapping his fingers three times.

22. Favorite thing/part about sex—intimacy, role-playing, etc.

Côme

For them, it's experimenting. They're at a stage where they want to start dabbling into things that aren't just vanilla. It's getting to know yourself and your partner and what works and does not work for each other and the connection that comes with that.

Madeleine

For Mads, it's the intimacy and trust. It's being able to give Morgan control and know that she won't do anything that will hurt her. It's being able to be vulnerable. She also really likes the aftercare, slowly getting down with your partner. Tending for them and cuddling.

Jonah

His partner's reactions. Jonah is someone who is very attentive in bed. He loves taking his time and making sure his partner is well-cared for and actually having a good time. But he also thrives on his partner's reactions: sounds, eye contact, body reactions... And he also really likes when the favor is returned, when his partner pays attention to him during the act. He also really enjoys the building up before it all, getting into/setting the mood, the possible discussions that may come with trying out new stuff, the teasing...

nsfw asks

[echinocereus]

@dirtybandaids well i suppose your doctor knows whats best, who am i to oppose them

⚠️ SPOILERS FOR THE FIRST TWO BOOKS AND S2 OF THE SHOW ⚠️

So, both Armand and Claudia were made/introduced to vampires at a very young age.

Claudia was turned pretty much as soon as they encountered her

for Armand: he was around vampires for a while before he was turned.

This means both of them never had a "normal" human life - unlike Lestat and Louis (and Marius).

because of this they are both deeply scarred in fundamental ways - they have never lived a normal life! they have never been in a normal relationship! this will come into play later.

they are both constantly the means to an end for their respective relationships. both have constantly been manipulated and seconded for someone/something else.

For Armand, first it was Marius, then it was Lestat - both in the books and in the show, in the books - Armand was basically broken with the loss of Marius and then the loss of his coven - Lestat left him fending for himself with a new coven after basically destroying his old one (he also refuses to tell Armand that he loves him, even though Armand is straight up begging for him to say it)

For Claudia, in the books Louis felt guilty and Lestat used her turning to make Louis stay (baby trapping) - she endures abuse from both Louis and Lestat until finally they try and kill Lestat. Then Louis and Armand happen, and again, Claudia is sidelined so that Louis can be with Armand.

NOW CONSEQUENCES: how do they both respond to this upbringing? to this life of constantly being tugged around? never knowing love?

Well of course they do what they were taught, they love how they were loved, the only way they know how to. They think that the only way they can get what they want is by manipulating others into positions where they became invaluable - so that they may never be sidelined again.

Armand: In the show, we see Armand manipulating Louis so that he might stay with him. In the books the same thing happened, this is found out in the second book, The Vampire Lestat. Armand loved Lestat, but Lestat kept choosing other things/people over Armand, and so Armand waited for him.

When Lestat finally returned to Armand, he was yet again not choosing Armand - he heard Lestat's and Louis' history and he knew that he would be sidelined once again - he used Lestat when he was delirious with pain to accuse Claudia of a crime and to keep Louis innocent - this was to separate Lestat and Claudia and Louis.

He knew that is Claudia survived than there was a chance that Louis would choose Claudia over him, he needed to be all that was left for Louis - this is also the reason why he omits that Lestat was involved or how he "couldn't do anything" to save Claudia - he does this because he genuinely believes it is the only way he will ever be loved.

Claudia: so, in the show, they portray Claudia as way healthier - more importantly, her relationship with Madeleine. In the show, she basically becomes a people pleaser, she does whatever she can to get their love and approval and respect. When she is shown again and again, however, that people only see her as a puppet, she turns away from the coven.

in the book, Claudia tries everything to make people perceive her as older, different, she tried to pass as a little person for a while - however when she was yet again sidelined by Louis for Armand she went to this dollmaker. This dollmaker was Madeleine, and Madeleine had recently lost a daughter. A daughter that happened to look a lot like how Claudia always looked. Now while Claudia was no longer a child mentally, she decided that she would keep the ruse and act the role of the child for Madeleine, because to her that was the only way she would be able to keep her love. She preyed on Madeleine's recent loss of her child and told Madeleine that she could be Claudia's mother forever and she made Louis turn her into a vampire. (Now Claudia deserves the world and I hate to point this out but it is still true)

neither ever knew how much anyone actually loved them. Claudia never realized how much Louis really loved her and how destroyed he was when she died. Armand never knew how much Lestat really loved him because Lestat refused to tell him, so he shunted Lestat because he was convinced that Lestat would never love him.

neither ever acted out of malice - their actions may have been malicious but their intentions never were. they almost always acted out of desperation - all either of them wanted was to be genuinely loved.

i could rant about the armand and claudia parallels but i’m not sure if y’all are ready for that

[ajwinter-is-a-nerd]

Le Chat Et Le Serpent - Chapter 25

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamier" moments.

Chapter Summary:

Different sides of the story learn things they hadn't known before about darkness affecting the Graham De Vanily bloodline.

Chapter 25: You Can't Keep A Good Dog Down

Pretty as a Speckled Pup

“Maman?” Madeleine spun her ring as she sat beside Florence. 

Florence’s blonde hair had turned to a wiry grey that shimmered under the afternoon sun. 

“Oui, ma belle?” Florence kept her eyes closed, allowing the sun to blanket her. 

“How well did we listen? When you first tried to use your ring?” She gnawed at her cheek as she fiddled with the ring. 

“Are your daughters not listening to you?” Florence vividly remembered the terror that toddlers wreak. 

“Non! Well.. Some of the time they do. Other times, I’ve nearly run my finger raw and they still won’t calm down!” 

Florence peeked towards Madeleine, noting the heavy bags under her eyes. “It’s not quite that simple. Do you remember when we got a dog?” 

Florence brought Fang home when they were five. He was scarred and angry; he constantly nipped at the girls. It wasn’t until a figure had attacked their house that they bonded. The girls, as foolish as they could be, had shown Fang nothing but kindness. When their safety was threatened, he was willing to lay down his life for them. It may have been the fear of losing them, or realising how fragile the small humans truly were, that convinced Fang to play the role of the twins' guardian. Even if that duty came with floral crowns. 

“That old lug. Of course. Did we not listen? I thought we were really good about feeding him and keeping our distance when he was upset.” 

“Oh, you girls were excellent by then. But Fang had seen darkness, that’s why he fit into our family so well. It took him time to attach to us. I have never met a mutt riddled with such trust issues.” She chuckled at the way he would eye her as he ate his food bit by bit. 

“Yes, but, are you saying my daughter’s are dogs?” Madeleine raised her eyebrow towards her lazed mother. 

“Hah!” Florence bolted up in amusement. “Somedays, I would have to agree! However, that is not what I am implying. The creatures within the ring don’t know you yet. Give them time, and they will learn to appreciate you.”

Madeleine’s face scrunched as she pulled the ring to her face. “What, do I like, give it treats or something? A warm bath?” 

Chuckling, Florence lowered back against the blanket. “No, dear child. It is simply that you use them. Although you might have a point, perhaps a special cleaning every now and again wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Bonjour mon petit.” Madeleine whispered to the ring. “I swear, I will keep you safe.” 

“Just remember that the ring directs your children to behave. The more the rings know you, the stronger your link will be. The same applies for the children. As their soul becomes familiar with the commands, they will start listening more and more, to nearly any command you set forth.” Madeleine understood the unspoken warning within her mothers words; do not overexert the influence of the rings. 

“How long did we resist it?” Madeleine laid beside Florence, engrossed in her stories. 

“It depends on the request, my love. You’re less likely to get resistance in telling a child to sit down than you are to get them to write a symphony.” 

“Oh, but a symphony would be a beautiful feat.” Madeline mused. 

Shaking her head in enjoyment, Florence once again allowed the sun to engulf her. 

Every Dog Has Their Day

Untacking Viperion from the ‘extended time only’ section, Felix placed his image beside Chat. 

“When are you going to get a new power? You’re falling behind.” Lila scoffed as Felix dug the tack into the top of the photo. 

“I already gained my extended time at a faster rate than all of the other holders. I’d say that I’m doing quite well.” Felix’s voice was trailing as he focused on the images. Nino, Alya, and Luka. We have almost all of Adrien’s best friends here. 

“Yeah, but unless you can conjure up a miracle, you’ll have nothing against him.” Lila pointed to Chat, who had multiple sets of notes scribbled under his picture. 

“Chat got distracted twice today.” Felix met Chat’s replicated eyes. 

“Mmm, I can smell the hair burning! What are you thinking?” Lila flirtatiously stepped towards Felix. 

“The first, when Juleka was hit. The second, when they returned.” Felix thought out loud. 

“When Viperion and Purple Tigress returned?” Lila set her chin on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, something must have happened when they came back because Viperion yelled at Chat to keep his attention forward. It’s difficult to say for certain since this theory depends upon his use of his Second Chance, but it truly appears that way.” 

Impressed, Lila kissed the back of Felix’s neck. “So what does that mean?” 

“You said Luka is at Adrien’s house regularly?” Felix grabbed the stack of notebooks from Lila’s surveillance and rested them on the table. 

“Nearly every day!” Lila triumphantly responded. “Rarely goes home at all.” 

“He was there the night I took the tablet containing the Grimoire.” Felix flipped through the pages, searching for notes including Luka. 

“Some people are shipping the boys.” Lila cackled at the idea. 

Pausing his search, he pushed down the notebook. ‘ Adrien walked away from Luka. Had a weird nose bleed???’. “Lila.” His attention stayed upon her cursive font. 

“Yes, my Love?” She wrapped her arms around him. 

“Did Gabriel ever suspect Adrien as Chat Noir?” 

Working Like a Dog

Nathalie stiffened at the sight of Rena and Carapace casually walking through the front door, Adrien’s eyes glowed a warning to her as he stepped in from the dark. He had become so astute at working alone, she was never brought into his plans. 

“We may have another guest coming shortly, Nathalie.” Adrien informed her. Nathalie flickered her attention to Adrien’s bedroom door, nodding in understandment. 

“This - this is very thorough, Adrien,” Rena commented as she skimmed the documents. 

Running his finger around the rim of his whiskey glass, he tried to push the thought of Alya knowing the depth of his splattered history with Felix. 

Luka had helped Adrien colour coat and organise every single message, e-mail, and deposit between the Agreste’s, Lila, and Felix. “Figured if you’re going to hash through the depths of my life, I might as well make it as quick as possible.”

“Ripping off the band-aid.” Carapace agreed, trying to mask his own discomfort. 

Adrien’s office door slammed open, startling the trio. Viperion vaulted nearly a foot in the air, also surprised at the ferocity of the opening door. He mouthed a ‘sorry’, as if complete silence was the reparative solution to the loud bang. Eased by his presence, Adrien settled back down to the floor, leaning his back against the same shelf he had pressed Luka against the week before. 

“Is everyone here?” Rena scanned the room, as if there was a crowd of people to headcount. 

“Yeah, only us on shift tonight.” Viperion yawned as he gripped the back of his neck. 

“Can you lock the door so we can give the Kwamis a break?” Rena motioned papers to the door, her face seemingly dumbfounded that he didn’t come to that realisation himself. 

“Oh, yeah.” He mumbled as he clicked the latch shut. 

Reaching into her purse, Alya pulled out the container that held the grapes she had packed for Trixx. However, instead of pouncing to Alya, Trixx headed straight for Adrien. 

“Did you stock up?” Trixx bounced in the air. 

“Trixx…” Wayzz scolded him. 

“What? He always gets the best stuff! Why would we not ask him when he literally has a fridge dedicated to Kwami snacks?” 

Adrien interjected, worried that they may give too much away. “Yes, of course. You know where it is.” 

Sass, barely awake himself, nodded towards Luka before following the other Kwamis. 

“What were you up to?” Nino pried suggestively.

“Huh?” Luka had melted onto the floor across from Adrien, his arm along his raised knee. 

“You look like you just woke up, were you too busy playing cat and mouse?” 

Luka forced his dreary eyes to avoid glancing towards Adrien. Now that Chat had displayed his affection, the pressure to downplay the ‘Lukadrien’ was on high alert. “Shut-up, I just fell asleep.” He ran his free hand against his face. 

“Luka, if you need to sleep that’s fine. We’ve got this.” Alya waved her hand over the documents. 

 “It’s okay, learning as much as we can about Felix is the priority.” It was true that finding Felix was the most important task, but that’s not why he was there. Luka had already seen each of these documents at least twice. He knew all too well the horror that laced some of these pages, and he didn’t want Adrien to face it alone. 

Recognizing how exhausted Luka was, Adrien shined an apologetic glance. Luka shook his head with a petit smile, letting him know that he wanted to be there. Granted, he would have preferred that it had not been during a deep sleep, requiring Nathalie to poke him in the face. 

Adrien wasn’t certain if it was the mention of Chat and Viperion, or the appreciation that brewed within him for the slumped man across the room, but a slight pain in his head reminded him to avert his gaze. 

“Dude…” Nino’s pitch lowered as he started to realise the gravity of the papers they were flipping through. “This is fucked up. Luka, look at this.” 

He knew from the crumpling exactly which paper it was. One of the screenshots between Felix and Adrien. Luka had tried to reassure Adrien that the squad would not need to see everything, but Adrien didn’t want to leave one piece missing. They might see something he could not. Still, that knowledge did not prevent him from throwing it to the floor and stomping on it repeatedly. 

Adrien peeked at the document being passed over, but as soon as he recognised it, he returned his focus on to the glass in front of him. 

Felix: You should have got on that train. Now you’ve lost it all. Your model girlfriend has already offered to get on her knees for me. And that insect you’re so in love with, she’s helpless now.

Adrien: Don’t do this Felix. You need to give the Miraculous back to Ladybug. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. 

Felix: Think about it, if you come with me, we can finally wage war on your dad.  

Adrien: Not this way. That jewel needs to go back to where it belongs. 

Felix: Don’t tell me you aren’t considering it. You can finally give Gabriel a run for his money. It’s pretty hard to leave a mark when we come at him with the powers. 

Adrien: My father will get his due. You can’t possibly pretend your actions are justified. 

Felix: Oh really? Is that what this boy would say?

*Images continued until the end of the page.*

Felix: Or are you now just your dad’s lap dog? A beaten mutt cowering at his owner's feet?

When they were younger, Felix believed he could protect Adrien by documenting Gabriel’s actions, but everyone shrugged it off. Enraged, Felix always kept them, hoping he would find anyone that would listen. The photographs were certainly never intended to be used against Adrien, but the desire to pull Adrien to his side was too powerful. 

Luka pretended to read it quickly before passing the paper back to Nino. Below the everyday outfits that Adrien used to wear, his body was morphed into an abstract painting. Bruises of different age and strength, covering far too much of the young man’s skin. 

“I’m sorry Adrien, I had no idea,” Alya’s words were soft, her rage syphoned through her fingers pinching the paper. Everyday that they were fighting battles together, Adrien was constantly living within one. 

The journey down Adrien’s sordid past was quick to wear on them. Merely an hour passed before Alya decided that they’d had enough. “We’ll take these to our place and call it a night. Hopefully we can find something, but honestly it just feels like we’re running in circles.” She groaned as she buried her face into Nino’s shoulder. 

“Alya,” Adrien swirled the freshly poured drink around his glass, “you are the snoopiest, and most intelligent person I have ever met. If anyone can solve this, it’s you.” 

“Hey!” Nino perked, only latching onto the snoopy descriptor. 

“Thank you, Adrien.” Alya smiled in gratitude. “Come on Nino, let’s go home.”

“I don’t think you’re snoopy, Babe.” Nino raised his lips to hers. 

Alya returned the kiss with a grin. “Oh come on, you know me better than that.” 

Nino brushed her cheek before he rose. “Adrien, I am so sorry that you’re dad was so fucked up. I knew it was bad… but I didn’t realise it was…”

Embracing Nino, Adrien soothingly patted his back. “It’s okay, I knew he had his demons.” 

Luka intercommed Adrien’s room, telling the Kwamis it was time to return. 

“Already?” Trixxed whined. It was rare he ever got to spend time with Plagg; and he was the only one that would thrive in mischief with him. 

“If there’s grapes in my drawers, Trixx.” Adrien’s words attempted to formulate a threat, but he could not keep a straight face. Luka had a knack for unintentionally finding the Kwamis’ snacks by squishing them. 

“Alright Turtle Boy, you bring out the boxes, I’ll be right behind you.” Alya instructed. 

“On it, my love!” Carapace stacked the boxes on top of each other as he headed towards the door that Luka held open for him. 

Alya carefully listened to the receding of Nino’s steps. At the latching of the front door, she pointed her fingers towards the couple. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

“Drinking whiskey?” Adrien flashed the Kagami style robotic smile. Her accusing finger jabbed in the depths of Adrien’s skull. 

Alya hit Adrien in the head with a rolled up paper. “You guys better be careful! Now that Chat’s basically proclaimed his love to Luka, you need to make sure it stays between the two of you.” 

“I know, I know.” Adrien rubbed his head, as if the paper had somehow maimed him. 

Standing perfectly straight, Luka nodded once. Somehow, that one motion seemed a lot more reassuring than Adrien’s mumbling. Alya threatened them with the paper once more before transforming. “I love you guys, I’ll see you soon! Oh - and make sure you get those videos for next week!” She waved the paper weapon behind her as she continued away. 

“I’m sorry I put you in that position.” Adrien watched the ice cubes dance within his glass. 

Luka took the glass from him and took a sip. “Oh - this is nice.” He continued to down Adrien’s drink. 

“Hey!” Adrien pushed out his lower lip. 

“That’s what you get for not pouring me a glass. This was hard for me too.” 

Understanding, Adrien turned to the mini bar. As he dropped the ice into the glass, a red blot veined over the cubes. Shit. The headache’s gone now, so there shouldn’t be any more blood. Adrien covertly wiped his nose as he raised the bottle of whiskey. 

Clutching the neck of the bottle, Adrien returned to Luka, who was now holding an empty glass. 

Reaching out for the new glass, Luka tensed his lips as Adrien pulled it out of his grasp. 

“Nuh-uh,” Adrien poured the alcohol into Luka’s glass. “You could have had a fresh one, but you claimed mine! So now you need to live with the consequences of your actions.” He snickered as he returned the bottle to its place. 

“I’m not mad, just so you know.” Luka narrowed the space between himself and Adrien. “About being put in that position. I didn’t have to kiss you back.” 

“I know you want the overt affection, and that’s… I think… I think Chat’s the only way I can give you any of that.” His words mumbled in shame as they fell from his mouth. 

Luka’s lips were chilled and moist as he kissed Adrien. “I think I can handle being shipped with a hot leather-clad superhero.” 

Author's Note:

This is one of those that I put in my head, but don't know if anyone else caught on to this - Chloe *knows* she is the only one that knew before Adrien was "regulated". So - even though Adrien's office is one of his safe spaces, Alya knowing would still incite an ache. Since it is more of a convoluted situation that focuses on Chat Noir and Viperion, it is easier to separate from - except for when Alya comes right up to them about their relationship.

-

I loved the imagery of little blonde twins adorning a grumpy, jowly doggo. Kids and dogs are just so cute.

-

I would like everyone to take a moment to consider the type of mischief that Plagg and Trixx would get into. You could write a whole series about them pranking each other haha

-

Considering the timeline at hand, the photos would have needed to be taken during the timeframe of the show. I like to believe that even though Felix was being a tit, he saw it and still tried to say something - even though he was already starting a ruckus. Everyone, including his absent minded mother, likely led to increased brashness on his following visits. Angry at the situation, at himself, at everyone.

-

One of the positives and negatives throughout the show is Adrien's absolute obliviousness. As we can see, Adrien is starting to understand some of the mechanics behind his headaches and his nosebleeds, but he still doesn't fully *get* it.

-

The second part of the miraculous breaking will be in Chapter 26 - it will help to answer some questions that might be brewing!

-

*** I almost forgot to add - Nathalie. They walk into the house in supergear. Why? Because they don't know that Nathalie knows. So even though it would be seemingly less conspicuous to go in their regular clothes, since they are doing work related to the super team, they wanted to play it on the safe side.

Disclaimer * The characters and original plot were written and created by Thomas Astruc. This writing is merely an interpretation in a sad gay type of way.

[kokocharm]

ooooooh dark cake? who are they? /nf

i love u sm /p

And again. Trigger warning!! For torture n stuff, or if u dont like seeing pomegranate cookie being a total dick ^^ (lord this au is dark)

Okay, so Dark Cake Cookie appeared near the start of the RP. We didn't actually SEE him get kidnapped, since we were focused on Macaque and Pure Vanilla, but he was abducted at around the same time.

"Dark Cake" is the name Pomegranate gave him; his name is actually Madeleine Cookie. Surprise!!

Pomegranate is kind of a BITCH in rtl, just a heads up. "Torture" is a prominent feature when it comes to "converting" Cookies onto the COD's side. We basically amplified their "evilness" by about ten thousand.

Dark Cake is the result of a looot of psychological trauma and mind-altering spells. He's introduced during a full-team meeting, as well as Omori, Leo and Donnie. And TECHNICALLY earl grey?? But he and the chess choco twins are a whole nother thing (im surprised hes lasted this long tbh the war is getting violent)

This is where my hcs are pulled in !! Ive alwyas been crazy abt the "lol madeleine cake hound" hc, its one of my favorites. Red Velvet immediately notices somehing "Off" about Dark Cake, and basically adopts him

Now, Dark Cake is everything Madeleine would HATE being. Hes kind of a coward, always trying to hide behind Red Velvet and will perish on the spot if you even look at him funny. This is all Pomegranate's doing. Later, we ARE shown that her spells can be broken out of, if given the right conditions. Pomegranate tried to avoid that, even the first time, by altering his personality as well as his memories.

Now, Dark Cake isnt ALWAYS a coward. He does toughen up quite a bit further into the story; he was a knight commander, after all.

So. That's whats up with Madeleine. But I wonder what Espresso thinks about this? Hes probably coping we-

oh god espresso No oh my god what are you doing ESPRESSO N

[hahahax30]

I should preface this by say in my Engineering class, there are seven “girls” including me and eighteen boys so we would adopt her right away because we need more “girls”

So we do this thing every once in a while where our teacher will write a math problem on the board we have never seen before and leave the classroom for ten minutes so we have to figure it out on my own. Which is basically just us screaming at eachother for 9 minutes until one of us figures it out abd the last minute is us rushing to solve it. I think Madeleine would be overwhelmed at first but than i think she would say something and we would all shut up and listen to her solve it ✨together✨

I think she would’ve had tons of taking apart computers for obvious reason

I also think she would love making circuit boards but be scandalized because the there’s a tool we use while build circuit boards called a wire stripper and we make a lot of jokes abt it

Ex: “Come on everybody, time to strip!”

“Where are the strippers?” “I don’t know, just throw some money on the floor and they’ll come to you”

Yeah, you guys would probably overwhelm Madeleine so much lol, but she would absolutely pick a chalk and start explaining you the problem as if it were really simple and then be surprised when you're all in awe. My girl's smart smart

NDISNSIDNDISNSISNDIDNS please she's already tried to dismantle Caleb's computer twice. That's *canon*

YES YES YES. She'd be confused at first because I'm pretty sure that strippers were a thing back in the 1860s but a) they weren't called that b) she wouldn't have known it because she was a lady and all that shit c) Aaron and Sydney wouldn't have told her about it. But when someone explained what it was, she'd be *beyond scandalised*. Like, all pale and shit and she'd need to step aside because 'goodness gracious I just wanted to learn about computers'

ALSO

“I need to talk to her about the uses of string matching and parsing algorithms,” Lucas said.

Morgan stopped walking; lowered her phone, slowly turned her head to him and mouthed ‘what the fuck’ at the same time as Lucas mouthed something that could’ve been ‘leave it to me’ or ‘strawberry cheesecake’. Morgan had never been good at reading lips she wanted to kiss.

“You need to speak to the Victorian girl about what again?” Axan asked.

“String matching and parsing algorithms,” Lucas repeated, walking to Morgan and taking her phone “The fact that she was born in the 19th century doesn’t mean she can’t be good at technology, as she’s told me she is. That’s stereotyping.”

“Damn, Miss Woolaham is a nerd. Okay, I’ll get her to you,” the ruckus returned as Axan went back into the room “Awfully sorry to interrupt your very interesting conversation on killer Mrs. Beeton, Rashid —I’m sure Madeleine is glad she survived all that bacteria on her feeding bottle.”

“Actually, my family employed a wet nurse,” came Madeleine’s polite voice from the speaker.

“Well, your mother must’ve been a lovely lady,” Axan said, undeterred.

“My mother did not to touch me on the basis that I might infect her my homosexuality.”

“Then I hope she died a slow, painful death. Lucas is on the phone and wants to tell you about string match and something algorithms. In my humble opinion, that is a much better topic than homophobic mothers.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

“Very well. Um, thank you, Axan.”

The Khosravi-fuelled ruckus quieted down as Madeleine got progressively farther. And farther. And farther.

“Lucas?” Madeleine eventually asked “I already know what string matching and parsing algorithms do.”

She did?

“You do?” Lucas looked like he wanted to adopt Madeleine then and there.

“Yes, Atalanta explained to me what it was and I’ve been tinkering around with Caleb’s computer. Nevertheless, that was a good cover to get me to talk to you.”

Ignore the drama and look at computer nerd falling in platonic love with another computer nerd

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part II/VII)

"candy floss"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: grief, feels, brief mention of Fred x Reader ig?

A/N: I decided to name the parts bc why the fuck not so keep an eye on the titles 👀. This story is based off this convo and these headcanons. If you wanna be tagged in the next parts tell me, and enjoy <3

Prologue :the aftermath

Part I : sleepless nights

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The moment the last group of customers decided it was time to call it a day and exited the shop, I left the till counter and grabbed my wand from my pocket, instantly turning the sign in the door so it could be read from outside 'closed'.

A sigh escaped my lips as I leaned against the multicolored wooden rail.

I was drained.

The shop helped our minds to get distracted and stray from the grief, yes, but it was also exhausting.

We had been subconsciously overworking ourselves to the point where it was borderline self-destructive.

It didn't help that I was throwing myself into comforting George, either. I could not be blamed for doing that, though; he was broken.

A part of me, the rational one, knew he would pick up the pieces and build himself up again, it would just take a lot of time.

There was another part of me, though, that depressed, drained part, that was beginning to think he would never heal by himself —maybe he wouldn't heal at all— but still held onto the hope that, if I tried hard enough, I would be able to mend what had been broken in him.

A terrible idea, really, because I started to dismiss in its entirety my own miserable, damaged state.

And George, ever the caring, sensible one, would have noticed that; he would have made me realize I was not doing nearly as well as I thought, he would have talked some sense into me, but he wouldn't— he couldn't, because George was lost in an ocean of grief, trying so hard not to drown that he wasn't able to notice I was trying to aid him from my very own sinking boat.

It also seemed to be working; he was more animated, slept more soundly, and his smile was a bit brighter even —at least the one he had for me.

"Rough day?" My eyes, which I didn't know I had closed, fluttered open at George's voice.

"Very."

He walked to me with a tinge of guilt in his face. "You know we can switch places, right?" I had been working as the public face of the shop since we had reopened, and George had taken on the task of doing the paperwork and shippings instead, showing up from time to time to help me and to let people know there was still a Weasley running the business.

I had been the one to suggest this, since I knew George had compromised with reopening only because of me, and he was clearly not ready to put up a sociable, positive attitude for dozens of people every day.

"Nah, it's fine like this." I assured him with a reassuring smile.

He measured me with his eyes for a second; I couldn't really tell if he saw through me or not. "So I was preparing the today's shippings," he rocked a tiny purple basket I quickly recognised in front of me. "I found this in the back of the stockroom."

"Are those—?"

"Candy floss cupcakes, yes." A year and a half ago we had bought five baskets of candy floss cupcakes from Honeydukes per George's request in order to unsuccessfully try and implement them.

"Are they even edible anymore?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I hope so?" He chuckled too, tearing the film covering the sweets. "Thought we might as well finish them."

My eyes travelled from the basket to him and viceversa before stating, "well I'm hungry so..."

"Same here." He was the first one to pull out a pastel colored cupcake, though he handed it to me. "Wanna get food poisoning together?" Laughing, I gave him a nod as he grabbed his own cupcake. "At the count of three?"

"One"

"Two"

"Three." We said in unison right before taking a bite of our respective madeleines.

I frowned at its surprisingly good flavour. "Am I delirious or are they actually edible?"

"Dunno," he shoved the rest of his cupcake into his mouth with a shrug. "maybe we're just starving."

"Go big or go home, I guess." I finished my cupcake before leaning on the basket to pick another one. My head snapped up with my brow quirked when I heard a soft chuckle. "What?"

"Nothing." George shook his head, motioning at the stairs. "Shall we sit down?" I followed his lead, sitting on the stairs and waiting for him, who had stepped towards the drinks aisle to grab a couple of juice bottles, to do the same.

We stayed there, eating and drinking in a comfortable silence until the basket was empty and our eyelids threatened to shut.

"I think we should head back to the flat." He spoke, leaving the half empty juice aside so he could stretch.

"I'm gonna learn how to cook." I stated, getting up. "We can't get by based on most likely expired sweets and whatever is in the Leaky Cauldron menu."

"Aight." He mimicked my actions, picking up the stuff we left on the stairs. "We will learn the basics tomorrow." He got behind me and began to gently push in the flat's direction. "But now we're gonna get some sleep, miss."

I would be lying if I said my heartbeat didn't pick up when his hands landed on my shoulder blades and made their way to rub both my arms reassuringly.

I would be lying if I denied I leaned back when he did that, letting myself get closer to his chest.

And I would definitely be lying if I said I didn't crave going back to my room so I could cuddle him all night.

One Week Later

"—right in the cauldron, love." I pointed at the cauldron besides me, giving a sweet smile to the kid in front of me, visibly going to be sick thanks to the free sample of Skiving Snackboxes.

"Y/n!" I spun around at the loud calling of my name above the shop's racket. I was able to discern a long, red mane flowing fast towards my position right on time for the owner to wrap her arms around me.

"Glad to see you too, Ginny." I laughed, trying not to lose balance due to her enthusiasm. "How come you're here?" I questioned, pulling away.

"We heard you were open." Harry walked up to me, appearing from behind the girl, "And thought we'd pay a visit to our friends, right?" Ginny nodded, looking around while Harry gave me a quick, yet comforting hug. "Where's George?"

I motioned up to the small office, redirecting the couple's eyes to the second floor. "Doing paperwork—AH!" I jolted when a pair of hands tickled my sides, my head snapping to see the towering ginger standing behind me. "Speaking of the devil."

"I thought I saw Gin through the window," George explained, his hands lingering on my waist for long enough to his sister to stare, before pulling Ginny into a tight hug. "And came down to check if she was distracting my employee."

"You got her all bored here, mate." Harry pointed out, a light joking tone in his voice.

"And you're the one supposed to help with that?" George rolled his eyes dramatically. "Pfft... What a world we live in." With the said, he gave the boy a side hug. I heard Harry murmur an 'We missed you' before they pulled away with a pat on the shoulder.

My gaze landed on the youngest Weasley, whose welled up eyes were trained on her older brother's half smile. I only averted my eyes and waited for her to discreetly wipe away the unspilled tears while Harry and George catched up.

By the letters she had sent me, I reckoned the last time she had been near George, he had been lifeless; seeing a glimpse of who was once one of the most cheerful, funny and charismatic people in her life, was probably poignant to Ginny.

I hadn't realized she had moved closer until I didn't hear her soft voice. "Thank you." I offered her a confused smile, though deep down I knew what she meant.

Two Days Later

George was having one of those days.

We both knew it was coming soon; it had to happen sooner rather than later, since he had been in a surprisingly good mood for almost a week. I suspected seeing Harry and Ginny had brought back the events of the Second of May.

I suggested to close the shop for the day, since he was unable to move out of bed; he refused to do so, but I convinced him to stay in the flat and rest —it was Tuesday, anyway; I wouldn't have to handle many customers.

Due to that, when I saw Hermione, Ron, Bill and Fleur entered the shop, it was understandable that I hadn't become the happiest person in the world.

I greeted them, there were hugs, kisses, and even a joke or two, and when Bill asked about George, I excused him without giving much detail.

They understood.

Fleur was the one to restart the conversation, lightening a bit before requesting a tour for the shop, since she had not yet been there.

It was when we reached the love potions that Hermione, using the fact that Fleur was very much interested in the product, held my hand and pulled me aside.

"So... how are you doing?" The frown in her face, the fact that she was whispering, the squeeze her hand gave mine, let me know she had read me the moment her eyes met mines.

I sighed with a shrug.

"You can tell me." Could I? "No one's asking you to put on a happy face, Y/n." The girl assured me, her eyes digging into mines. "It's not just George, we all lost—" she shook her head at her own words before correcting herself. "you lost him too."

I lost him too.

I bit my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

The memory of Fred's broken smile as his corpse laid on the stretcher, that memory that haunted my dreams, appeared vividly before my eyes.

My lips started to burn with the ghost of that kiss he gave me before we split up, him with Percy and me with George; it hadn't been meant to be a goodbye kiss. It was meant to be a good luck kiss.

I covered my mouth to muffle a sob, and Hermione's arms were quick to be wrapped around me, reassuringly rubbing my back.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I saw them entering from Y/n's balcony; I wasn't emotionally ready to face them all at the same time, but when I didn't see them exit, I figured Y/n hadn't been able to dismiss them.

I decided I owed to them all to bite the bullet, so I threw on a shirt and the first trousers I grabbed, cleaned up a bit and left the flat.

With a deep breath, I made it to the second floor and mentally prepared myself to go down to the first one.

As I began to climb down, though, I noticed Hermione and Y/n talking in private, closer than the others to the stairs.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but all my senses were automatically focused on Y/n whenever we were in the same room; she just stole me away from reality.

"You lost him too."

Hermione's words visibly triggered something on Y/n.

'Something', as if I didn't know what they had triggered, as if I didn't know what— who was on her mind.

I guess he was always on her mind, though.

What was left of my heart shattered in a million pieces when she broke down to tears —for several reasons—. "I miss him." She whispered in Hermione's shoulder. "I miss him so much."

If I had any tears left, I would have cried my eyes out right there. Had I been so selfish that I had disregarded how she was feeling? So blinded by the light and love and warmth she was constantly giving me that I had forgotten about her grief? Was I that bad of a person, that I would have rather live in the illusion that she had not lost the boy she was dating?

My mind told me I didn't want any of those questions answered.

"George!" As Ron yelled my name in surprise, Hermione and Y/n pulled away, the latter rubbing her eyes while both of my brothers jogged upstairs to hug me. "Ginny told us you're open—"

"But Y/n said you weren't feeling well." Bill finished, squeezing my shoulder. "We only stayed a little longer for Fleur to see the shop."

"Yeah, we'll come back tomorrow," Ron assured me. "So you can rest and..."

My brother's voice sounded further and further with each word; I felt myself drifting off, getting lost in my own mind and gravitating towards the same thought over and over.

She deserves better.

[cordonian-literature]

wip wednesday :)

hi y’all so i wasn’t tagged (whoops broke the rules) and it’s still kinda early in the day but i wanted to make this post because i’ve been working on a few other fics and wanted to share :)

i’ve been finishing up Aftermath - the reason it’s taking me so long to post chapters is because i initially had a very sad ending planned. i weeped when i was rereading it because i’ve gotten emotionally attached to the characters (what a surprise) and am now rewriting a happier ending. i think there’s like... 3 chapters left (don’t quote me on that, i’m a mess and it could change, but its unlikely).

there’s also two other fic ideas that i had. the first one kinda throws canon out the window - but there are still some elements, like Bertrand and Savannah’s relationship (though it’s extremely altered), the assassination with Olivia’s parents, Godfrey & Barthelemy’s treason... it’s just changed, like Queen Eleanor’s story is different, Leo doesn’t abdicate, Liam and Drake never really became best friends, and MC (Klara/Claire Brooks) leads a double life, keeping both men (and families) away from each other

the second one throws TRH 3 in the trash (even though it already is kinda trash, haha). this would take place during the last chapter of TRH 2 and throw the whole vote stuff out the window - because the farther we go with that, the less it makes sense. basically, Auvernal kidnaps the heir, Barthelemy is involved in it, and Liam and MC (i’m keeping her as Riley Brooks for this one) along with the gang do everything they can to get her back (obviously why wouldn’t they). i thought it would be interesting putting a part of it in the heir’s point of view, since those were kinda funny in some of the recent chapters. nothing too dark or serious (i mean yeah the heir getting kidnapped is serious, but you know what i mean. besides that, there are no major trigger warnings)

both these fics will most likely flop, but i had fun with these ideas and wanted to share

so here we go

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The Aftermath - Chapter 32

When Bastien enters, his eyes widen as they rest on Boris. He gives Olivia a look.

“Drake,” she tells him, hoping that would be enough of an answer. Bastien frowns. Olivia didn’t know why Drake had done this either. The fool hadn’t given her any information as to what this man had done. Where was she even supposed to start?

Now she was really wishing she had called Jacob to give her a background check.

“So,” she begins, pacing in front of Boris. Bastien was at full attention, closely watching both of them. “What happened between you and Drake?”

Boris spits blood to the opposite side of the room. It drips down the wall. “Call the bastard in here. Tell him to explain.” His accent is thick and his voice is tried.

I probably should, she thinks to herself.

Bastien gives Olivia another look. She nods at him.

“Let us shift the conversation,” Bastien begins. “Can I ask how long you’ve known Lady Riley or her late husband?”

“How is that important?” Boris questions.

“Just curious.” Bastien’s voice remains level.

Boris sighs, then leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Potter. I met him in college. He introduced me to Riley-”

“I’m sorry,” Bastien interrupts him. “Who is ‘Potter’?”

“The lovely Theodore Blaise.” Boris lets out a rueful chuckle. “You have not seen him in person? The idiot looks like Harry Potter. Stupid glasses, stupid hair.”

“Alright,” Bastien stops him again. “Continue. When did he introduce you to Riley?”

“New York. That one year. I was visiting before I had to go to... Switzerland? Sweden? One of the two. It was lifetime ago. Can’t remember everything.” He pauses to look around the room. “She was... with your King. We saw her in the park. Theo wanted to see her. We waited for the king to leave her before he went up to her hotel.”

Olivia knew that he was talking about the last night Riley had been with the court. But Boris was drawing out the conversation. She didn’t like how slow Bastien was approaching this. Olivia wanted to draw a knife — she had a new one she was itching to use — and force the answers out of him.

✦✧✦✧✦

Until the End - Prologue

A/N: also i made a thing for this series. it’s not a moodboard. idk what its called. like a banner or whatever? i felt creative and made it. i’ll probably end up making a moodboard too. there are three parts of the series, each part has seven/eight chapters. anyway this looks kinda wack i might not even use it

As we near the stairs, Olivia Nevrakis chases after Maxwell Beaumont, who tumbles down the steps.

“Why are you running?!” Olivia cries after the boy, a long object in her hand.

“Because you have a stick!” he cries after almost tripping over his short, chubby legs.

“What am I gonna do, hit you with it?”

“YES?!” Maxwell screams, a confused and fearful tone in his voice.

As the two reach the bottom of the stairs, Liam emerges from another corridor, laughing after his friends. His hair is a whorl on his head, and his cheeks are flushed pink.

“Hello, Mother!” he says. My son hugs my waist, then reaches to hug his father, but Constantine has already walked on.

I take the boy’s hand and we follow after the King. Near the entrance of the palace stands a man in guard’s uniform, a woman in a denim dress, and two small children.

“Eleanor, Liam,” Constantine begins. “I would like for you two to be introduced to a new member of our security team. Jackson Walker, his wife Bianca, and their children, Drake and Savannah.”

“A pleasure, Your Majesties,” Jackson says as he and his wife bow respectfully. The little girl blinks up at me while Drake looks between Liam and I.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Liam!” My son holds out his hand to Drake.

Constantine audibly coughs. Liam’s hand falls to his side, and his smile falls as well. I knew that the differences in status would not allow Liam to interact with the boy so improperly, but they are just children. I didn’t think there was a reason for such excessive formality.

Bianca slightly nudges her son. In a monotone voice, Drake greets, “Nice to meet you, Prince Liam.”

Liam’s expression lifts. I send a smile in Bianca’s direction, and she hesitantly returns it. Jackson holds eye contact with me a moment longer, a wide grin stretching his face.

Constantine grabs our attention again. “Jackson, you will be primarily working on my wife’s security team. Now if you’ll excuse us, we are expected at dinner. My head of security, Bastien, will lead you through the rest of your orientation. After dinner, you’ll be able to speak to my wife and receive any orders she has for you.”

“Yes, Sire,” Jackson bows his head again, and Constantine leads us away.

Godfrey and his family, along with the Beaumonts, Olivia, and Leo are already seated. They all stand quickly as Constantine comes into the room, giving polite bows.  

The moment we sit, there’s a flurry of activity as the servants set our plates in front of us. Adelaide sips on her wine absently. Annabelle fusses over Maxwell, who has cookie crumbs on his fingers and face. Madeleine attempts to get Leo’s attention, but he laughs with Bertrand, the boys giving each other impish smiles. Olivia converses with Liam, taking on a gentle demeanor compared to how she behaved with Maxwell.

“Hostilities between Monterisso and Auvernal are increasing by the day,” I hear Godfrey mention to Constantine.

“The whole of Europe expects them to break out in war,” Barthelemy adds.

“Monterissian and Auvernese citizens anticipate some sort of peace treaty,” Godfrey continues. The men speak as if they are one unit, with one mind. “But other nations have already begun taking sides.”

“The King of Hidar is siding with Monterisso.” Barthelemy motions for a servant to bring him more wine. “But there are rumors that he is only doing so after receiving threats.”

“Most nations are waiting for Cordonia and Monaco for their decisions for who to ally with.”

When Barthelemy and Godfrey finish filling Constantine’s ears, they return to the food on their plates, staring down as if nothing else in the world concerned them. Constantine chews slowly, visibly considering their words.

“Monterisso has always kept a neutral face when it comes to Cordonian issues,” the King mentions. “They have never asked or hinted towards alliance. They are not many nations who ally with them at all.”

“So you must admit,” Barthelemy finishes chewing, “that allying with them instead of Auvernal makes a bad impression—”

“—and reduces the chance of alliances with other nations,” Godfrey finishes with him.

“How so?” I speak up. The three men turn their heads to look at me. No one else at the table pays attention to the conversation, but as their eyes burn in my direction — aggressive looks from the Dukes, while my husband raises an eyebrow at me — I want to take back my words.

But I do no such thing. After more than seven years of marriage, I had become accustomed to Godfrey and Barthelmey shutting down the advice I gave to my husband. This instance is no different.

✦✧✦✧✦

The Lion and the Heir - short series - Prologue

A/N: just as a heads up, i laughed while writing this. like i wrote this just for a good laugh and wanted to share. my friend sent me a writing prompt about a kid’s wild imagination and she thought it was funny and sent it to me (i sent her this same passage and we both laughed our heads off reading parts of it) so what i’m trying to say is that thinking this is terrible and cringe-worthy is understandable - i cringed at this myself and am very scared to post this lol, and might not even continue it. yes i made a moodboard thing. yes i laughed while making it. goodbye.

"Is everything well, Mommy?" I ask. Instead of answering me, again she attempts to silence me! I repeat my question, but this time the man tells me to silent myself.

Did they not know who they were speaking to? Perhaps I was interrupting something. Was there a lesson to be learned somewhere in this? I wish that Daddy were present at this meeting. Though most of his explanations were gibberish, he would at least attempt to make me understand.

The man walks towards me. He reaches his hands out to carry me, but I do not know this man! And he was quite stinky! I do not like him. I smack his hands away, and he takes a step back.

"With all due respect," I try to explain to him, "please introduce yourself before any forward actions. They are most unwelcoming. Your Princess does not appreciate this behavior."

He turns to my suspicious mother and says something in gibberish. I frown, for the language barrier does not mean that my subjects may disobey my wishes in such a manner!

Suspicious Mommy takes off the shield that was over her eyes. I find that it is NOT Mommy! Though they look similar, their differences are too contrasting. This woman's eyes were a tad sharper. She was too aware of me, and did not seem comfortable in my presence.

"Shhh sh shhh," she goes again, trying to pick me up, but I allow my short legs to fall from under me. My behind hits the mattress, and I feel my friend, General Lion, against my hand.

"Is everything well, Your Highness?" my trusty General says to me. "Is there anything I can do to be of service?"

"Dismiss this woman from my presence!" I command him.

"But... but that is Mommy!" he cries.

This woman was good in her disguise. She had fooled my trusted advisor!

"Believe me, General, it is not!" I tell him. "She has fooled us!"

"And she is trying to take you away?" he observes.

"Yes!" I am suddenly aware of what is happening. The woman begins to reach for me. "Quick!" I say, panic swelling in my chest. I had to do something about this, but all my heart is telling me to do is cry! I have to take more serious measures than that! "What am I to do?"

"Uh... uh..." General Lion looks around the crib, before he reaches out to me. "Take a hold of my paw!"

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putting my Aftermath taglist because that’s the only one i have :) - y’all can see what’s happening in the next chapter & these other fics. if you’re interested in any (besides Aftermath) let me know! if you don’t interact or anything, i’ll leave you on the Aftermath taglist and won’t remove or add you anywhere :)

(also, people probably know this but just a gentle reminder, the only reason i don’t reply to comments is because this is a sideblog. i see them all though, so don’t worry. i just don’t want to confuse people by replying from my main blog or anything :) anyway let me stop trailing off)

@captain-kingliamsqueen​ @gkittylove99​ @lovablegranny​ @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful​ @mom2000aggie​ @kingliam2019​ @queenrileyrose​ @shanzay44​ @cordonianroyalty​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @hopelessromanticmonie​ @twinkle-320​ @amandablink​ @texaskitten30​ @pens-girl-87​ @ladyangel70​ @sanchita012​ @cordonianprincess​ @cordonia-gothqueen​ @pink-diamond13​ @queenwalton​​ @yourmajesty09​ @alj4890​​ @choicesbutterfly​​​ 

^if anyone from this list wants to do the WIP Wednesday thing, feel free!!

[ladyhindsight]

Here we go.

On page 4, Clary gives Simon this as the reason for her trip to Idris, which is ridiculous because what does that got to do with anything? My notes read: “OR maybe he’ll trust you because you are Jocelyn’s daughter??”

Then on page 8 Clary tells the following to Jace who is trying to persuade Clary to not go:

Which is entirely logical, but pray tell, why on earth does Clary say anything like “looking so much like” Jocelyn to Simon when Madeleine has already told Ragnor to expect Jocelyn’s daughter? (who does look a lot like her, yes)

Why must the reasons for the trip be explained twice with different reasoning, and why am I already confused?

The first clause stands perfectly well on its own without any additional explaining, i.e. hand-holding. As if the meaning is evident from the glance that was shot and the words following said glance.

Clary and Jace’s siblinghood has been incredibly over-pronounced, especially in the previous book. No other siblings constantly remind the readers that they are, indeed, siblings. Almost like the writing would reeaally like the readers to believe that they are related to each other...

No comma, still the same subject. We were doing so great till the page 9.

How to Make Your Characters More Sympathetic: Being Grateful for Minor Tangential Things While Otherwise Being Ungrateful About a Lot of Other, Often More Significant Things - A Guide for Better Characterization

Clary going to Idris and Luke not liking it is no reason for him to withhold his care nor hold it hostage. This is a nonissue.

Again, participle phrases signal concurrency, that two or more things are happening at the same time. Clary can’t tear through the paper and seize something soft at the same time.

→ “Clary tore though it. Her hand seized on something soft...”

Orange arrows are pointing towards two clauses that are separated with a comma from the main clause. Comma, however, in these cases comes after “or” only if is followed by an independent clause, which neither of these are.

The pink arrow, just no.

“You look beautiful, Clary.” “It suits you wonderfully, Clary.” “It truly draws out your best features, Clary.” Literally any other answer than this dark moody-broody bullshit that has got nothing to do with Clary and how she looks in the cloak. Luke bought Clary the coat/cloak because he saw it and he thought of her. Yet now, as Luke has said this, it seems like it only actually reminded him of Jocelyn and Clary acts as a proxy to her. Or that Clary’s similarity to her mother makes Luke treat Clary as a reminder of Jocelyn.

About Clary wanting Simon to go back to normal: On page two it is said that

“They’d only called off their attempt at a romantic relationship last week, and she still felt confused whenever she saw him.”

First of all, it was more Simon’s attempt rather than both of theirs. Secondly, Simon’s “normal” was always being in love with Clary. Clary is still confused about their relationship. Simon should be allowed to deal with his feelings too, in addition to those of dying and turning into a vampire, especially without Clary just wanting things easier for herself.

Though Clary wanting normality and familiarity back in her life is understandable, it is also a bit egocentric and leaves Simon’s feelings out of it.

→ “...when he heard several familiar voices nearby.”

→ “He didn’t have to elaborate on what he meant. Jace’s face told Simon that he remembered.” (END)

What else could they possibly be remembering? It is a basic assumption that by the third book the reader has read previous parts of the story and is able to recall such a major event without these recaps shoved in.

No, if you like to support men’s healthy emotional life.

Maybe you could if Jace ever shared his plans with them instead of keeping them to himself and assuming without even trying. Maybe if he then discussed it, planned it, talked it out, he could at least say he tried to keep Clary’s abilities secret.

Jace’s faith in Clary is also outstanding. She apparently has no potential even with training. Also, are you talking about the same Clary who is shoving herself into every fight and battle without any training still? Yeah, why on earth would she want to be a fighter.

Additionally, while Jace and Simon are planning and deciding everything for Clary behind her back, has either of them even thought to ask her what she might want for herself? Or is she too ignorant to decide whether she wants official training?

Oh, shut up, Simon. Everyone knows that for once Jace meddling into Clary’s business is not about that. I also don’t think Clary is aware that she is in desperate need of help, Jace just decided that on his own.

The brown part highlights a sentence that has no main verb (to perform an action). 

→ “Simon hesitated. Before he could respond, a noise split the silence between them—a high, shrieking cry, terrible in its desperation and worse...”

Also who said the last line?  → ““What was that?” Jace said, whirling around.”

Abominable comma. The cries and the clangs are both performing the same action.

→ “The single shriek was joined by other cries and a harsh clang that...”

Before me is chaos.

→ “A white mist blanketed the garden. There was a heavy smell in the air—the sharp tang of ozone and something sweet and unpleasant under it.”

I’d either scrap the sentence underlined with yellow (because it pauses the action) or tie it together with the previous sentence. For instance:

→ “He glimpsed Isabelle, her hair snapping around her in black ropes as she swung her whip that made a deadly fork of golden lightning through the shadows.”

Besides emphasis, em dashes in the middle of a sentence can be used to give additional information that is not essential to understand the rest of the sentence. It is a break in a sentence that already stands and is understood on its own. Yet here the sentence without Simon’s additional information would be:

“She was fending off the advance of something lumbering and huge, but it was full daylight; that was impossible.” Which doesn’t make sense at all. In addition to punctuation, some things need switching around:

→ “She was fending off the advance of something lumbering and huge—a demon, Simon thought. But that was impossible; it was full daylight.” or

→ “She was fending off the advance of something lumbering and huge. A demon, Simon thought, but that was impossible; it was full daylight.”

→ “It swung a thick wooden plank (it carried in one hand) at Isabelle almost blindly.”

→ “...back and forth inside it. Simon felt as if he were...”

→ “Isabelle has vanished. He saw Alec, his arm bleeding...” (no semicolon because the clauses aren’t closely related.)

→ “...a blade in each hand. He leaped into the air..”

→ “...with a vicious scissoring movement. The Forsaken’s head tumbled...”

Most of the action taking place in this scene is filtered through Simon. Simon sees this, Simon feels that etc. Since we already do know that Simon is the observer:

→ “The Shadowhunters were calling to one another out of the mist...”

→ “Suddenly the mist cleared. Magnus was standing wild-eyed by the wall...”

→ “...blue lightning sparking between them. Against the wall...”

Ave Atque Vale, Madeleine. You served your relevant-for-only-one-thing purpose as best you could.

I’m sensing a trend regarding em dashes in this chapter.

[moonb-eam]

oh nat, i know we've basically made you write the entire p&p au from eliott's pov with our asks but i just can't help myself, esp after seeing the last ask about the telescope scene-so here it goes: have they ever talked about lucas' past- how lonely he must've been losing his parents at a young age? bc he still refers to his aunt/uncle as mr/mrs banet,like they're family but there's a distance. also i love that eliott loves the banets in your au as opposed to the og darcy who hated the bennets.

ahahaha we have managed to cover a lot of ground with the asks but it’s okay darling!! thank you for your question 🧡🧡🧡 (this one also ran away from me a bit, so i’ve but it under the cut)

When Eliott first met the Banet family, he didn’t know what to make of them.

They were loud, that much was true. Bold and indelicate. Simultaneously warm and welcoming but also intimidating. They were clearly close, as evident from their interactions and the way the spoke to one another. Eliott could see shades of himself and Daphné in the way the Banet sisters and Lucas would be arguing one moment, petty and childish, then fiercely defending one another in the next.

Mrs. Banet frightened Eliott the most. Her strong opinions and bouts of cluelessness likened her to his aunt initially, a comparison that made him turn in the opposite direction whenever he saw her approaching. Mr. Banet was more of an an enigma, quiet and withdrawn, but with a shrewd, intelligent gaze.

But these were only glimpses into the Banet family. Impressions that Eliott gathered from balls, when he had nothing to do but observe the guests from a distance.

Then, Lucas agrees to move in with him, and Alexia tells him, You’re already family, darling, and Eliott finds himself in the middle of Beaufort’s kitchen with Mrs. Banet clinging to him and rest of the family watching on in amusement, and it hits him properly, in the midst of it all, that he is a part of this family now.

Their chaos is his chaos. Their ridiculousness and dramatics are his to bear.

The thought makes Eliott so wildly happy that he thinks he might cry all over again. He can see them together: the Banet’s, Lucas, himself, Daphné, Madeleine. One overly large, patchwork family, one that’s made as much as it is born. One that’s real and imperfect and so full of love.

So, when Eliott finds himself alone for a moment at their garden party, which Lucas keeps insisting is not a wedding even though it may as well be, and he spots Mrs. Banet walking towards the food table, he drains the rest of his wine glass, and subtly intercepts her.

“Eliott,” she says happily when she sees him, linking their arms together. “I was wondering when you were going to come to talk to me.”

Not so subtly, then.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Eliott immediately says, and it’s an old habit that makes him wince. He can practically hear Dr. Daucet’s voice in his hear.

Why do you think your instinct is always to apologize, Eliott? What are you apologizing for?

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Banet’s cheeks are pink and her eyes are glassy. She grins, and her smile is that of a woman much younger than her, teasing and girlish. “You are my son now, after all.”

The ease with which she says it stops him short. “Oh.”

She grips tightly onto his bicep. “That is to say that you’re a part of this family, my dear. You’re one of mine.” She inclines her head to where Eliott can see Emma, Manon, Alexia, and Lucas standing in a circle, their heads bent together as though they’re sharing a secret. “And that extends to your lovely sister as well.”

“Thank you,” Eliott says softly. Mrs. Banet pats him on the cheek, and both of their eyes are watery. “That means more than you know.”

“I think I know.” Mrs. Banet says, with a sad tilt to her mouth. “You know, when I first heard the news that my sister and her husband died, all I could think about was Lucas.”

Her gaze drifts to him as she speaks, to Lucas, who is wrestling his crown of flowers away from Alexia, returning it to his head and pouting when Emma says something that makes all of the girls laugh.

“All I could think about was that sweet boy, now left without a family. We never discussed it, she and I, where Lucas would go if anything happened to them, but I knew there was only one possibility. He needed a family. He needed a home.”

Eliott pictures him, his sweet and sensitive and blisteringly smart Lucas as a child, alone and adrift in the world, and his heart grows heavy. His ribs strain under the weight of it. “So you gave him that.”

When he turns to look at her, Mrs. Banet’s smile is melancholic. “I tried,” she says simply. “But I could only ever do so much. I was never a mother to him, nor was my husband ever his father. There’s no replacement for that.” Her fingers touch her mouth, gaze warm as she takes in her children. “But we all tried together, to become something like a family. There’s some of it I would do differently now, for all of them, but I think...I think we’ve done alright.” She rests her head against Eliott’s shoulder. “They’ve turned out wonderfully, haven’t they?”

Eliott pats the hand that still grips tightly to his bicep. “They have,” he agrees. Lucas' head turns, eyes searching in the crowd as though he can hear Eliott thinking about him, and when he sees Eliott with his aunt, his eyes widen, his mouth dropping open.

“Oh,” Mrs. Banet smirks. “He thinks I’m embarrassing him.” She waves at Lucas with her free hand. “Quickly, Eliott: laugh as though I’ve just said something horribly embarrassing about him.”

The thing is, Eliott realizes, Lucas hardly ever talks about his parents.

There was that moment at Montrose, when Eliott’s aunt was badgering Lucas incessantly about his background, and Lucas had mentioned that his parents were poets, and that they had little money. But aside from that, Eliott knows nothing about them.

He understands it, though. Eliott doesn’t speak about his father unless he absolutely has to. It aches to do so, like prodding at an old scar, and Eliott doesn’t want to ask Lucas to tell him anything that he wouldn’t be willing to share.

That doesn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

He finds himself in the library one afternoon, carefully combing through the Demaury collection of poetry, searching for any volume with the name Lallemant on the spine. His search yields nothing, aside from distracting Eliott from what was supposed to be an afternoon of finally responding to letters that he’s been meaning to respond to for weeks, and it does nothing to satiate his curiosity.

Still, he makes the decision to wait. He will only ask about Lucas’ family if Lucas gives him an opening to do so. Eliott is patient, a quality nurtured in him by his mother, and with Lucas, he’s even more so. There’s no end to how long he’s willing to wait for him. For anything.

But as it happens, Eliott doesn’t even need to ask.

There’s one night in October when it storms: pounding rain and echoing claps of thunder. Forks of lightning that crack the sky.

They spend the evening in the drawing room, Lucas, Eliott and Daphné, gathered around the fireplace with pots of tea and plates of food. They play cards and Daphné wins every hand. Eliott tells ghost stories until Lucas tells him to stop because he’s bored, even though Eliott has a suspicion it’s because he’s scared.

Eventually, Daphné falls asleep, curled up under a wool blanket on the settee, her open book tumbling from her hands down to the floor.

Eliott folds the corner of a page down to save her place, then wraps another blanket around his shoulders, sitting on the floor with his back braced against the the corner of the settee.

Lucas eyes him from his armchair. “Is there room in there for me?”

In response, Eliott holds the blanket open to him.

Lucas sits between Eliott’s legs, leaning back against his chest and letting out a contended sigh when Eliott folds his arms around him, the blanket covering them both.

A cold nose presses into Eliott’s neck and he gasps.

Lucas giggles into his skin.

“You’re annoying,” Eliott grumbles, but he’s smiling, and Lucas must be able to tell without even looking at him because his hand comes out the blanket, flailing around Eliott’s face until it finds his cheek, then poking him.

“You love me,” Lucas says, sounding nothing short of smug, and Eliott bites at the tip of his finger.

But he can’t help saying it, after a moment, ducking his head to kiss Lucas’ cheek, to whisper in his ear just as another fork of lightning casts long shadows across the drawing room floor, “I love you.”

Lucas turns his head to meet him in a kiss, and Eliott can feel it everywhere when he shivers.

“I love you too,” Lucas murmurs when they part. He tucks his face back into Eliott’s neck, and Eliott shifts his hold on him, lifting one arm so he can stroke his fingers through Lucas’ hair.

Lucas lets out a happy noise, and Eliott smiles, pressing his lips to his forehead.

It’s so peaceful there, in the places where their bodies overlap, underneath their warm blanket, that it feels as though they’ve created a world entirely separate from the one they inhabit. The storm may rage and roar, but there, in the Demaury drawing room, exists only warmth and comfort.

Eliott thinks he could fall asleep like this, with Lucas in his arms and Daphné’s soft snores above them, warmed by the crackling fire.

It would be hell for his back, but it would be worth it.

“This is what it is,” Lucas says softly, and his voice almost too quiet to be heard over the rain against the windows, “to speak of longing between souls. We must have fallen from the same star, my dear, for I loved you before I ever knew you.”

Eliott slowly smooths his hand over Lucas’ hair. “That’s beautiful.” His thumb strokes down the shell of Lucas’ ear. “Where is it from?”

“My mother wrote it.”

Eliott lets out a long breath, resting his chin on the top of Lucas’ head. His eyes are fixed on the tall windows across from them, the world beyond them dark and cavernous, lit only by the occasional stark flash of lightning.

“There used to be manuscripts everywhere in the house,” Lucas says eventually. “From both of them. They would read them aloud constantly, and pore over a single line for hours. It’s why I never liked poetry, because it reminded me too much of them. That one in particular...I heard my mother say it so many times, I could never forget it. But I,” Lucas hands fist in Eliott’s shirt, “I don’t think I really understood it until now.”

Eliott's free hand finds Lucas’ under the blanket. He lifts them together, kissing the inside of Lucas’ wrist, nuzzling into his palm.

He closes his eyes, trying to imprint the words onto his heart.

This is what it is, to speak of longing between souls.

“They would have loved you,” Lucas continues, and there’s a subtle fondness to his voice that makes Eliott smile against the delicate bones of his hand. “I’m sure you could have spent hours talking to them about poetry, or about art.” He lets out a soft laugh. “I would have had to fight to get any of your attention.”

Eliott shakes his head. “Never,” he says softly.

Lucas tugs on Eliott’s hand, lowering them back beneath the folds of the blanket to rest on his stomach.

“We didn’t have a lot of money, but I didn’t realize that, at the time. They never acted like it. I don’t remember them ever fighting, or ever speaking about money around me. They were just...happy, I think. They were always happy.”

Lucas falls silent, and Eliott realizes that he’s crying, small tremors rippling through his back that Eliott can feel in his sternum. Immediately, Eliott wants to comfort him. He wants to wipe his tears and tell him everything will be alright, but in this moment, with Lucas picking at the edges of the oldest scar he has, Eliott doesn’t think its his place.

Eliott knows grief, yes, but he doesn’t know grief like this. So he stays silent, pressing his lips to the crown of Lucas’ head.

I’m so sorry, Lucas. A clap of thunder echoes in the distance. The rain continues to beat against the windows. It’s unfair, and that’s all we can say about it. It’s so fucking unfair.

Eliott doesn’t know how long they stay that way for, but it doesn’t matter. He counts time by how many passes his hand has made down Lucas’ spine, by how many shudders he can feel under his palm, by how many times Lucas’ fists unclench from his shirt, only to grip back onto it.

Eventually, Lucas shifts against him, turning his head away from Eliott’s neck, and his voice is a little more solid to say, “I was lucky, you know. There are so many others like me who lost their parents and had to be taken to an orphanage, or to homes with cruel people. The Banet’s, they...they’ve done so much for me. They’ve given me a family, and a home, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t-” He exhales softly. “There’s something missing in me, and it won’t ever be replaced.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Eliott tells him gently.

“I know,” Lucas says, and it sounds a little sad, but it also sounds like something he’s thought about before. Something he carries with him.

When the silence between them stretches out into minutes, Eliott tentatively says, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Lucas leans away from Eliott’s chest, sitting up and turning on the spot so he can face him. The blanket drops from his shoulders, pooling around his waist.

His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, his face is red, but he’s smiling softly as he cups Eliott’s cheeks in his hands, pressing their foreheads together and letting a sigh unfurl between them.

“It’s so easy for me to tell you things,” Lucas says. “Well, not easy necessarily, but it - it feels right.” He kisses Eliott, short and sweet, and it feels like thank you. It feels like you’re the safest place I know. 

“It’s the same for me,” Eliott whispers. “I hope you know that.”

Lucas’ smile widens. “I do.”

They fire has died to embers, and with it, the warmth in the room begins to be taken over by the damp cold from the storm, so they make the decision to leave, having to try to wake Daphné a few times before bidding her goodnight, then making their way back to their own room, holding hands while Lucas wears the blanket like a cape.

It’s only when Eliott is sitting on the end of their bed, watching Lucas blow out the final candle on the mantlepiece, that he says, hesitantly, “I wish I could read her work.”

It’s too dark for Eliott to interpret the glance Lucas sends him, and he’s worried he’s overstepped, until Lucas steps towards him and says lightly, “You probably could. My father was only published in journals, but she had a book printed, years ago. I’ve never been able to find a copy, but I’m sure you could, with your,” he pokes Eliott in the forehead, “connections.”

“Would you mind?” Eliott asks, grasping Lucas’ finger and tugging on his hand, placing his palm flat over Eliott’s heart. “If I read it? If you would rather I didn’t, I’d understand.”

“No.” Lucas says softly. “I wouldn’t mind.” His thumb strokes across Eliott’s skin. “But thank you for asking.”

“Of course.”

“Her name was Hélène,” Lucas says. “Hélène Lallemant. But the book was published under the pen name Cezanne Olivier.”

The name gives Eliott pause. It tugs at something in his mind, a thin forest green spine and faded gold lettering, but he can’t be sure, not entirely, so he just nods, and says, “I’ll look for it.”

“Alright.” Lucas drops his hand from Eliott’s chest, kneeing up onto the bed next to him, then crawling under the covers, burrowing himself into the pillows.

“Come on.” His voice is muffled. “I’m cold and exhausted, and I’d like you to hold me, please.”

Without hesitation, Eliott goes.

His suspicion is confirmed the next day, when he ventures back into the library and finds that same thin volume. The lettering is faded, but not too faded so as not to be discerned, and Eliott sets it down carefully on the desk in the library, making a plan to return to it after he finishes his meeting with Maurice to survey any damages to the grounds from the storm.

But, when he returns, soaked from the light rain that continues to fall, covered in mud from walking the tree line, the book isn’t where he left it.

He checks the bookcases, on the chance that Madeleine may have re-shelved it, but cannot find it there. He checks the other tables, the drawing room, the study, and grows increasingly worried that he may have lost it somewhere, until he walks past the open door to the bedroom, and he sees Lucas in there, curled up on the window seat with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and an open book in his hand, one with a deep green cover and faint gold lettering.

Eliott watches him for a moment, the way his eyes slowly travel over each line, the way his fingers caress each page before turning it, before he smiles, then quietly turns back down the hallway.

[theimpossiblescheme]

A Very Palpable Hit

That long thread with @nonchalantdanger about Roxanne’s skill with a sword and where it could possibly come from finally made me decide to dip my pen (or my keyboard, rather) back into the tiny, but dedicated fandom of Cyrano de Bergerac.  Writing these characters is still quite a challenge, but quite a fun challenge, I think, and this was a fun kinda-sorta prompt to do.  I hope I did them justice, and I hope everyone enjoys this little piece!

Roxanne was pacing frantically to and fro in front of the fireplace in her villa, casting a long pink shadow across the red flames as she turned across the carpet so vigorously she might strikes flames behind her own feet and wear a hole in it.  Cyrano had grown restless just looking at her and was now standing behind the chair he’d been previously sitting in, arms folded over the back and chin propped pensively on his hands as he watched.  All of the Robin family maids, including her Duenna, had been sent away for the evening—it was only the two of them.  And the anxiety in the air could have been cut with a knife.

“I mean, I know it’s considered some sort of—of romantic custom for a man to fight for the honor of his lady love, but we are hardly living in the dark ages anymore, are we?” Roxanne was saying on her fourth lap back and forth, wringing her twisted hands demonstratively as she spoke.  “And besides, I would hardly call it romantic.  No, I would call it barbaric—I mean, at what point does it become less about the lady in question and more about some—some pompous popinjay proving his ego is larger than his opponent’s?  It seems ridiculous that the other preciuses allow themselves as prizes to be one in such a monstrous game, and I refuse to be the reason some poor feckless idiot gets skewered like a prize goose or a bunch of innocent bystanders are slashed to ribbons… I know it’s hardly ladylike, but I say it’s hardly manly to act so childishly on a lady’s behalf…”

“What exactly are you proposing?” Cyrano cut in as gently as he could.  The poor girl was working herself into a sweat, and she hadn’t even come to her point yet.

Stopping in her tracks, Roxanne turned to face him, fully silhouetted in front of the fire… beautiful and terrible, like a vision of Beatrice in the Inferno.   “I propose… no, I demand that you teach me everything you know about swordplay. I do not wish to debut into society a defenseless woman.”

Cyrano was taken aback… and it occurred to him in the same moment that maybe he shouldn’t be.  The girl who had been Roxanne—Madeleine, actually, once upon a time—had always been spirited, proud, and independent.  But she was also fearful, hiding behind him at the first sight of bullies.  Timid and shy at the idea of anything beyond those wide, empty Gascony fields.  Now here she was in the city.  Now here she was… unafraid.  Bold.  Determined to make her way with grace and, dare he say it, panache.

Now she was a woman. He’d known that before, he supposed, and not been nearly so surprised.  But not until now had his heart fluttered so in his chest at the thought.

But he quickly hid it under a smile—not a mocking one, but an understanding one—as he straightened. “So this is your solution.  Not content with the role of Guinevere, you instead intend to fashion yourself as Joan of Arc, a one-woman divine army against these… boastful infidels.”  Painting the image in the air before him with his hands, he wandered forward closer to Roxanne.  “Does that not seem a bit extreme, though?”

“Well, you’ve said so yourself, there are things one does well to carry to extremes!  Besides… you…”  She rushed forward and seemed less divine, but more human as she squeezed his hands pleadingly.  “You have made yourself a hero.  The finest swordsman in your regiment, everyone says so.  And even before then… you were the hero of my childhood.  My knight of the riverbanks.  If I were to ask anyone, it would be you and only you.” She gave his hands another tight squeeze.  “Will you?”

The words dried in his mouth for a moment, but he managed to find them again.  “How could I possibly refuse?”  Cyrano gave her hands a gentle squeeze in return and was relieved to find his own still dry.  “My princess turned page of the corn-silk hair.”  He said it with a joking air, but there was a tender sincerity lingering underneath.

And Roxanne’s face lit up with a smile of her own.  “Oh, thank you!”  She leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.  “You won’t regret it I promise… oh, I shall need a sword.”

“Here, take mine.” Cyrano unsheathed his rapier and handed it to her before laying his scabbard on a nearby table and reaching for one of the Duenna’s walking sticks from a small rack beside the front door. “This is a bit heavier, but it shall suffice.  But let us take this outside—no use in skewering any innocent inanimate bystanders.” The maids might collectively pin him to the wall like a butterfly if they damaged any of the family’s valuables. Opening the door, he bowed her outside before following into the front yard.  Fortunately for them, there was a gorgeous full moon out tonight, and there was still enough light from the nearby streetlamps to see in case of sudden clouds.  He hung his cloak on the rose trellis and tested the walking stick a bit, weighing it in his hand as he tried a few lunges and basic maneuvers.  Not exactly the finest Italian steel, but it would work just fine.  This wasn’t exactly going to be the sort of rigorous training the cadets went through—with any luck, the worst Roxanne would have to do was smack away an errant hand.

A little ways behind him, Roxanne was doing the same thing, twirling the rapier over in her hand and swishing the blade back and forth like a machete in the jungle.  “It’s much lighter than I thought it would be.”

“It needs to be—it’s a weapon of grace and agility, not necessarily of brute force.  Keep that in mind as you wield it.  And now…”  Cyrano lowered into a crouch, makeshift blade at the ready in front of him.

Roxanne’s eyebrows shot up. “You intend to throw me into the deep end so quickly?”

“A fish learns to swim by the same principle.  Advance, mermaid of Orleans, and let us see how much you already know.”  Swinging the stick up in a salute then down to his side, he waited for Roxanne to copy his movements before waiting… waiting for her to strike first.

Eventually she did, dramatically lunging forward toward his shoulder, but Cyrano deftly blocked her. Roxanne backed away to try again with the other shoulder, but met the same result.  “You’ve learned to thrust, to disengage, and to re-engage well enough, I see… let us see how you deal with this.”  Swinging his stick around again, he feinted toward her free arm, then raised up to land a hit on her opposite shoulder.  The whole time, Roxanne followed his hand with her eyes, her sword bobbing vaguely in that general direction, but not raising it quick enough to fend him off.  As she stumbled back, startled, Cyrano lowered his stick again.  “That was called a feint—a maneuver designed to mislead. You anticipated the feint so much that you missed the hit.”

“But how am I to keep up?” she asked, holding her shoulder even though Cyrano had barely tapped her. “You move so fast, I can hardly see.”

“For a start, try not to watch my hand.  The hand can deceive, as you’ve just seen… look here instead.”  He tapped his chest.  “Then let your eyes unfocus a bit—it will allow you to see your opponent as a whole, not just the nearest moving parts.  Now… shall we begin again?”

Roxanne nodded, sinking into her best crouch to mirror Cyrano, her body leaned forward instead of back.  “Do not try to go easy on me.”

“Oh, perish the thought, my dear.”  And this time he moved first, moving toward her shoulder and then to her arm in a reverse of his last maneuver.  This time she caught on, catching his stick on her blade and trying to push him back, but he was quick with a riposte, pulling back just far enough to tap the side of her hand.  Unfazed, she pressed forward again—a breach of the rules of engagement, but he’d allow it for now—trying in vain to land just the slightest touch on him each time he parried.  At one point, Cyrano dropped his stance the slightest bit lower and thrust toward her shoulder.  When Roxanne lifted her guard up to parry in turn, he dropped his posture even lower to level his stick just at her collarbone.

Falling back a step, the sword almost dropped from Roxanne’s hand as she stared tremulously down at the hit he’d scored.  “Well, I… I did tell you not to go easy on me,” she said with an uneasily flickering smile.

It was all he could do to keep firm, not to dissolve instantly in the face of her fear.  He’d regretted the hit as soon as it landed, and yet…  “That may be a worse case scenario.  God willing, you will never meet a man with such cruel intentions.  But make it a lesson as well.”  Taking her hand and tightening it around the pommel of her sword, he raised it up again at the level of her chest.  “Keep your guard level for as long as you can.  Too high or too low, and you may end up with a terrible cut to show for it.”  Straightening to his full height again, Cyrano gave what he hoped was an encouraging look.  “Shall we try again?”

Nodding resolutely—more to reassure herself than him, he suspected—Roxanne took her stance once more. Cyrano struck first again in a quick lunge, but she caught it flat and spun it away in a bit of a flourish.  A grin flashed across her face before she was back to business once more and they fell into their slow, but steady routine of thrust-parry-riposte, thrust-parry-riposte, with an occasional respite of some new maneuver that he would patiently guide her through. Roxanne was sent retreating more often than not, but every so often she would gain some ground.  If she got too cocky, however, and started bouncing back and forth like an excited puppy, Cyrano quickly put a stop to that, flicking his stick down to her waist in a light hit.  “Your footwork is merely a steady tempo, not meant to ornament the passage.  Keep yourself even and upright—small steps, but never so many in a row.”  His own form didn’t stick so strictly to those guidelines, heaven knew, but it was very good advice for a beginner.  Instantly chastened, Roxanne nodded, and they started again.

This time, Cyrano squared his chest toward her, hoping she would take the bait.  As she went for the attack, he stepped to the side and almost caught her square on the inside of one shoulder… but to his amazement, she saw the feint and dropped her arm in that spare split second, blocking his blade within inches of her sleeve.  Pushing him back a few steps, their routine continued—thrust-parry-riposte, thrust-parry-riposte, thrust-parry-disengage this time-parry-riposte.  Thrust-parry-disengage… Roxanne swung her sword forward in a broad cut, Cyrano waited for the right moment to press his attack… and she stepped to the side and fairly jabbed at his shoulder in a triumphant shove.

“Ha!”  She lifted her sword over her head like a gladiator expecting cheers from the Coliseum.  “Victory at last!  I hope that was… oh—oh, no…”

Cyrano tried to smile even as he muffled the newly bleeding cut under his hand.  “Yes… true blades tend to elicit this sort of reaction.  It’s very shallow, you needn’t worry—”

“But I am worried! Oh, Cyrano…”  Dropping the sword in the grass, Roxanne rushed forward and urged him to sit down next to her.  “I ask you to teach me to fight, and I thank you by stabbing you… let me see it, please…”

“It’s barely a scratch, Roxanne, not worth so much fuss… call it well-deserved revenge for my earlier hit, I suppose.”  But Cyrano obliged, loosening his doublet just enough to lower the shoulder of the shirt underneath.  It was indeed a relatively shallow cut, but long and already deep red, like the nick of a shaving blade.  Roxanne immediately pulled out her handkerchief to try and staunch the blood, and Cyrano could only hope and pray she couldn’t feel how warm his skin had suddenly grown there under her touch.  He almost made a comment to lighten the mood about her old fits of motherly sternness, where she would scold him for earning cuts and scrapes like these in fights against the big boys… but the words dried in his mouth again.  They didn’t feel right.  Not now.  This… felt different.

“I am so sorry,” Roxanne was saying, alternating between keeping pressure on the cut and wiping away the blood.  “You told me to be so careful, and I’ve been such a reckless oaf, and you’ve been so patient… can you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive.”  Catching her hand, he lowered the handkerchief away before quickly letting go. “This… unforgivable sin in your mind is merely an accident in mine.  And this accident may be taken as a sign of improvement.  It was, after all, the first hit you landed upon me.”  No, not the first… but he didn’t dare say that out loud.

Her response was a very strained, guilty smile.  “I suppose so… I only wish I hadn’t been so rough.”  She raised her eyes to meet his, and her smile became a little more genuine. “Thank you… if for nothing else, for being so patient with me.  I know I shall never be as good as you.”

“In a single evening? Impossible.  But good enough to defend yourself against the common ruffians of Paris and prevent a glorified cockfight on your behalf?”  He offered a new smile of his own, something finally approaching those lightning flashes of audacity that often struck him.  “Undoubtedly.”  Offering Roxanne a hand, he climbed back to his feet and picked his makeshift blade back up.  “And while we still have moonlight to spend, we might as well make the most of it… shall we continue?”

“Are you sure?” she inquired, picking up her sword again.  “With your shoulder?”

“My shoulder has withstood much crueler and more purposeful assaults—I shall survive.”  Sweeping the stick up in a new salute, Cyrano angled his body toward Roxanne’s once more as he sank into his stance.  “Lay on, good saint, and show me God’s wrath within your woman’s fury.”

With a salute of her own, erect and self-assured, Roxanne pressed on.

[meta-squash]

“He, who felt that he could never do better than creep, or walk at the most, saw wings growing on Cosette.”

I feel like, out of the entire book, this sentence is possibly the best summary of the relationship between Valjean and Cosette (that is, from Valjean’s point of view).

This is an aspect of the book that is so internal I feel like no adaptations are really able to capture it. Valjean doesn’t become the good person he is for any other reason than that he feels completely unworthy. Yes, the Bishop told him he must do good, and that is something that is always in his heart, but he doesn’t have some sort internal gauge set of “this is what I should do in order to be the type of good man the Bishop advised me I must become”. After a fairly empty and ignorant young adulthood, and years of abuse in prison, and the fear and mistreatment upon his release, and the way everyone looks at and treats and talks to/about convicts, he doesn’t believe he’s worthy of anything at all.

Even when he was M. Madeleine, he seems to hide himself and feel unworthy. He pretends at being worthy of respect or admiration, but most of his actions as Mayor are about the town and the citizens and things, and it seems as though he’s trying his hardest to do very good without drawing attention to himself. Which makes sense because he is a former convict, but I don’t think it’s that simple. It seems to me like he’s great at being the person helping and organizing and all that, but in terms of feeling respectable or like he’s a “good person,” he’s still trying to figure that out.

His second stint in prison throws him back to his original state, as Hugo points out, and as Hugo also points out, a big part of that is because he was punished for doing something he saw as the Good and Moral thing to do. But I think it also sends him spiraling back down into all the trauma and abuse and fear and dejection etc etc of being a convict. So when he gets out, he’s at his lowest point again.

When he escapes the Orion and returns to Montfermeil, he’s dressed basically in rags. Obviously, at this point, he has plenty of money hidden away to dress himself however he wants. But he doesn’t think he deserves it.  He gives away his money to beggars and poor when he’s at the Gorbeau house as well, despite being dressed poorly. Even once they’re living at Rue Plumet, he gives away so much in church that the poor surround him.

Everyone else sees Valjean as a good man, someone who’s generous and kind, who gives money and goodwill to everyone. Valjean does not see himself that way. Even pre-Fantine and pre-Cosette, I think he struggled to try and see himself as someone worthy of his position in M sur M. When he’s confronted with Fantine’s situation and condition, that makes him feel even worse, and then there’s Cosette, and then he’s hit with Champmathieu. In rapid succession, whatever he’s built up to make him feel mayor-like or whatever, just gets knocked down. The Orion pretty much reduced him back to what he was when he was released from the chain gang the first time, only this time he has a) his promise to the Bishop, and b) his promise to Fantine to care for Cosette. These two things make a huge difference. Not in how he feels about himself inherently, but how those feelings are interpreted.

Hugo talks about how Valjean’s feelings within prison and upon release the first time are mostly anger, disgust with humanity, a sort of ignorant furious self-pity, an angry confusion. Like he knows he’s not worth anything but he’s angry about it because society did this to him and prison did this to him and he doesn’t deserve to be treated this way even if he is a horrible person. “Ignominy thirsts for respect,” is the way Hugo puts it.

The second time, Hugo does point out that Valjean has basically slipped back into those old feelings. The exception is that now Cosette is with him, and his love for Cosette keeps him on the straight and narrow. But I think it also transforms his self-pity and feelings of worthlessness into something else. Presented with this pure, innocent being, he suddenly can compare every instance of his perception of himself and his past and his actions/feelings/thoughts/etc to not to himself vs society, but to someone else that he feels connected to and sees all of the time. And he comes up painfully short every time.

Wrapped up in Valjean’s love for Cosette I think is also sort of his almost religious respect for Fantine. Not that he definitively thinks of Fantine every time he sees Cosette; I don’t think that’s true at all. But I think the holiness he saw in Fantine has been transferred to Cosette, almost in the same way that young Cosette sort of imagines that Fantine’s soul has been transferred into Valjean.

So he’s comparing himself to this lovely innocent girl that is Cosette, and wrapped in that is the vague sense of holiness that comes from Fantine, and compared to any of that, Valjean basically sees himself a wretch. And then he acts accordingly: living in the porter’s shed at Rue Plumet with no fire and bad furniture and only eating bad bread, and giving far more to the poor than he would ever give himself. He makes Cosette the head of the household, including expenses, and as far as I can tell he does pretty much nothing for pleasure except maybe read (the way Hugo phrases it, I can’t quite tell if Valjean continued to read and educate himself in order to teach Cosette once they left the convent, or in order to actually educate himself and have some sort of pleasure). Basically the only pleasure he allows himself is being near Cosette, and even that seems to be something that is this incredible joy that’s constantly tinged with a sort of shame or maybe self-degrading. Like he’s so, so happy that Cosette loves him but also overwhelmingly feels undeserving of it. He loves her and he desperately wants her to love him but also every time he thinks about it Hugo piles on the fact that he feels guilty about this, that he feels like he isn’t worthy of her love and devotion as a daughter despite how good he has been, because he can’t see that goodness in himself. He loves her, and her love of him is happiness for him, but that happiness is always slightly tainted by the feeling that he just isn’t good enough and shouldn’t be enjoying this, or doesn’t deserve to.

Which is why I think that quote is such a good, concise description of their relationship. Valjean adores Cosette. He basically pampers her, dotes on her, is completely adoring of her. She is this lovely innocent creature and basically the first thing he’s ever come to love in his life, so he sees her as an angel. And when he looks at himself, it’s like he doesn’t see a single bit of the good things he’s done. He doesn’t see in himself the town he restored from poverty, or the woman he tried to save from wretchedness, or any of the money/clothes/food he’s given to the poor, or even the good he’s done in raising a child. He basically seems to see himself as the convict he was 20 years prior, but perhaps with nicer clothes. Perhaps he’s not as angry, but I think he still sees himself in the way that other people saw him when he was a convict; he sees himself as someone worthless, and deserving of nothing, and miserable, and base, and still not even worthy of a dog house. Despite all his good deeds he still doesn’t really see himself as a good man. And so he acts that way; he treats himself like he does not deserve the same housing/food/clothes as someone anywhere above that of a convict. Definitely some of it is religious-based, but the way that Valjean’s actions are portrayed I don’t think all of it is. I think he just genuinely does not see himself as a person who is good enough or worthy enough for these things. He simply does not see himself the way everyone else around him sees him.

But he sees Cosette as an angel, and almost something like a guilty pleasure.

[flowerpowell]

Until You Hate Me (Liam x MC)

PART TWO - INTRODUCTION

A/N: This is a sort of filler chapter I think, at first it was supposed to be longer (with actual action in it lol) but it didnt work and so it is what it is. I hope it’s still enjoyable. Characters belong to Pixelberry of course. 

Rating: G

Word count: 1591

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @brightpinkpeppercorn @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cora-nova @client-327 @desiree-0816 @jared2612 @princess-geek @emichelle @ao719 @badchoicesposts @sunandlemons @cordoniantrash @kinggliam @needalittlerain @flyawayboo @nazariortega @jlpplays1 @kimmiedoo5 @annekebbphotography @ladyangel70 @eadanga @kingliam2019 @nz1091 @emceesynonymroll @texaskitten30 @mskaneko @custaroonie @drakesensworld @janezillow @ritachacha @lodberg @msjr0119 ♥

(let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!)

Riley glanced at the watch again and sighed. Regina had asked her to meet her before the jet was supposed to take off but she was either late or forgot about their meeting at all. After five more minutes of sighing and checking the hour, the Queen finally showed up.

“You told me not to be late and yet you’re coming late?” Riley asked not caring if what she said was perhaps a bit too rude when talking to a monarch.

Regina narrowed her eyes before answering calmly. “A Queen is never late.”

“Are you quoting Princess Diaries now?”

“I have no idea what is that.”

“Ugh, nevermind. Let’s talk business. Two hundred thousand dollars for being an awful suitor, or whatever is that called. Anything else I need to know?”

“From what I see, you’re off to a great start,” Regina noticed and Riley rolled her eyes. “Liam will try to teach you everything that the girls from noble families learn throughout their lives. It’s impossible for him to succeed anyway but I just want to make sure you’ll make it even less possible. Is that clear?”

“As clear as the sky,” Riley nodded and Regina looked up. It was cloudy. She sighed.

“You can do whatever you please to make him fail the ‘challenge’ but never embarrass the crown.”

“And what if make him hate me in less than six weeks? Do I still get two hundred?” Riley inquired. It didn’t seem so difficult to do and she was sure she’d succeed in less than six weeks.

“Of course.Whether you do it in one day, a week or six, it’s up to you. Just do it before the coronation. But don’t flatter yourself too much. Liam is very stubborn and never gives up, unfortunately. Unlike his brother,” she sighed.

“Oh, it’s cool. I’ve pissed off more people in my life than I befriended. I’m gonna nail it.”

Regina raised her eyebrowns and looked at Riley sceptically. “Well, then. I guess we have a deal,” she extended her hand and Riley shook it.

“Your Majesty!” A man in a funny uniform bowed slightly before approaching them. “We’re taking off in a minute.”

“Of course. We’ll be right back,” Regina said politely and turned to Riley once the man disappeared. “Oh and Riley. Don’t even think about falling in love with Liam or making him fall for you. I’ll destroy you if anything like this happens.”

Riley swallowed hard before composing herself. “Don’t worry about it, Regi—, Your Majesty. I’m mentally and physically unable to fall in love.” Believe me, I tried.

“Good. Let’s get you to work then.”

---------------

Riley looked around the Royal jet, taking everything in. She felt Regina’s eyes on her as she was slowly approaching Liam. She tried to look nonchalant, as if being in a Royal jet was something she did on daily basis but she was failing miserably.

Mental note for myself: work on my facial expressions.

“Liam,” Regina said loudly when they reached Liam’s seat. He turned around at the sound of her voice and quickly got up when he saw Riley beside his stepmother. “This is Riley, the waitress from the bar you brought me to yesterday. She kindly agreed to go to Cordonia with us to help you with you challenge. Riley, this Liam, my stepson and the future King of Cordonia.”

Liam smiled warmly at Riley before taking her hand and kissing it lightly. She chuckled in response and Regina rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be somewhere there,” she motioned seats at the end of the jet and walked away.

“I am so happy you agreed to do this, I’m sure it must have been an odd thing to be asked for,” Liam started, leading her to her seat.

“Umm, yeah, I mean,” she stuttered before clearing her throat, “spending a few weeks in a Royal Palace will be like all-inclusive vacay that I didn’t have to pay for. Looots of fun!” She winked at him and Liam’s eyes widened a little. Gosh, I hate myself already.

“Yes, that’s... a nice comparison! Although we will have some work to do,” he laughed nervously while Riley put her feet on his seat.

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugged. “Do you have free champagne or something here?”

“We do, just a moment,” Liam got up and went to grab a bottle and two glasses. On his way back, he stopped by Regina’s seat.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” She asked sweetly.

“Are you sure it’s the same person we met yesterday?” He asked quietly, glancing at Riley who was now testing the seats by jumping on them.

“Of course. Why, something happened?”

“No, nothing. Hmm...” He walked away not seeing Regina’s triumphant smirk.

“Is something wrong with the seats, lady Riley?”

“Hmm, what? No, nothing, I was just checking their quality. It’s not bad though my couch from Walmart is much more comfortable.” She turned to him and took the bottle from his hands. Without bothering to pour the alcohol into the glass, she took a few sips straight from the bottle. I hope I’m not exaggerating.

“I’ll make sure to pass this suggestion to the people responsible for the seats here,” he smiled politely and sat down in front of Riley.

She returned the smile and sat down as well, typing a short message to Regina.

“Help, tell me more about Liam, what he likes and what he hates. ASAP.”

Luckily, the answer came shortly.

“No one truly knows what he likes, he’s too reserved. I would say he loves Cordonia, of course, our apples, baklava. He’s a romantic so family, a loving wife and children are his biggest dream. He hates fake people and people who can harm his friends and family.”

Riley sighed. That did not help her at all. And the fact that they shared favorite dessert and fruit was making it even harder. I swear if I have to pretend I hate baklava I’d rather be broke and kicked out of my apartment.

“Is everything alright?” Liam asked noticing her disconcertment.

“Yes! Absolutely. I just thought maybe you could tell me a little bit about yourself and all. I have to spend a few weeks with you after all!”

“Of course. Is there anything in particular you’d like to learn about me?”

“The basics, I guess. How do you feel about becoming a King, what am I even doing here, what’s your biggest dream and so on. The usual.”

Liam chuckled. “I don’t believe these things are the ‘usual’. But to answer your questions, I’m feeling nervous about becoming a King. I never really thought about it until my brother abdicated. And then my father died and everything became very real.”

“I’m sorry,” she wanted to put a comforting hand on his shoulder but stopped herself instantly.

“I don’t know how much Regina told you...” he looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Not much,” she lied, biting her lip.

“When I realized I was going to be a King, I knew I had to sacrifice many things. But there was one I didn’t want to sacrifice.”

“Love?”

“Exactly. It may sound foolish but I’ve always wanted to marry for love. And since the coronation is so soon... I just wanted to give it a try. Regina claims that you can’t simply teach anyone how to be a Queen because it’s a skill only noble ladies are born with but I don’t agree. My mother was a commoner too and I’m sure she was a wonderful Queen. This is why you’re here in a way,” he smiled at her sheepishly. “Regina... She gave me a chance to teach a lady outside the court, that is you, all about the manners and the Royal Protocol so I could prove her wrong. If I succeed I can marry whoever I want and whenever I want because I’ll prove that it is possible to learn these skills.”

“And if not?”

Liam took a deep breath before sighing. “Then I’ll have to marry Madeleine, my stepmother’s favorite suitor.”

“So marrying for love is your dream, right?”

“Yes. A loving wife and a few kids,” he smiled to himself involuntairly at the thought and Riley couldn’t help but smile too.

“And you? Do you want to get married, have kids?” he asked curiously after a moment.

“Me? Oh no! I don’t like kids, eww!” I hope Mrs Dulay can’t hear me now. “I want to have cats though.” He doesn’t have to know I’m allergic to them

“Cats.” Liam repeated.

“Cats. Like, ten of them or more.”

“Ten cats. Okay. But what if you were a Queen? You’d need an heir or someone to appoint.”

“I’d appoint one of my cats. Cats are the best. Cats should rule, I’m sure they’re destined to do so,” she explained and Liam’s eyes went wide.

“So no kids for you, only cats and a cat would be the Royal Heir.”

“Yes, exactly.”

He nodded and quickly turned his attention back at his phone. In a few hours they would land in Cordonia. He knew he couldn’t back out now, especially that it was his only chance but something was telling him that it was a mistake. And that it would be the longest six weeks in his life.

[ownworldresident]

Side by Side. Chapter 15: Pick Your Battles

Premise: King Liam x Rayne (MC): With new additions to their family, Rayne and  Liam are forced to re-evaluate their relationship.

Disclaimer: Most  characters are the property of Pixelberry studios. I am just borrowing them and will return them when I am done, some less traumatised than others.

Themes: found family, hurt/comfort, angst

MASTERLIST

Side by Side Masterlist

Chapter Fifteen: Pick Your Battles

“I want to marry you.”

The room, empty but for the two of them, fell quieter after Liam spoke. Rayne wrapped her arms around herself as she considered her answer. Finally, she nodded, and Liam exhaled. He stood and approached her, but her arms stayed tight against her chest. “All I ever wanted was you,” Liam continued softly, lifting a hand to graze over her cheek, “however I could. Having you with me in this life is truly a gift and I am thankful for every breath I take by your side.” He sighed. “I am telling you this so you know it, not to sway you.”

“I know.” Rayne offered the slightest smile, then turned and moved away from him through the parlour. This was one of her favourite rooms in the palace, and she hoped it wouldn’t be tainted if this conversation ended badly. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, lowering her arms to fiddle with the dried flowers in a tabletop vase, “I’ll admit that it scares me. Part of me is afraid of what will happen when this happens, and to everyone except me it seems inevitable.”

“And the other part?” Liam prompted after a few empty moments. Several feet away, Rayne dropped her arms and turned back. Her tone grew sharper.

“The other part of me is angry. No matter what I do or say, no one hesitates to second guess my judgement. Even my friend accused me of lacking in self-respect.” Rayne’s nails pressed against her palms as her hands balled into fists. “I could ignore it because I knew you were never going to ask me, and I could pretend that it wasn’t only my will that kept them all at bay. I pretended that everything was okay, just like you did with Madeleine, even though it wasn’t.”

“I know what I’m capable of, Liam. I know what I can do.” Rayne blinked back tears; she had said this to herself so many times, but the only time they heard it was when they spoke behind her back. “I left it, and you never asked, and it was comfortable. I was safe, but they…” She gestured toward the door, “didn’t believe that, did they.”

Her arms relaxed and she clasped her hands before her, watching Liam’s patient observation as he chose his words.

“They have a habit of being right,” he said hesitantly, “I suppose we should be grateful to them.”

“To an extent, maybe.” Rayne swallowed hard and rubbed the back of her neck. “It doesn’t change the fact that you just broke our agreement. I know you said you weren’t trying to sway me, but both of us have been backed into corners.”

“Not entirely true, and I told you, almost a year ago now, that I wouldn’t pretend to know your reasons.” Liam stepped closer. “But I would respect them, and I do. I have to ask you to consider, though. If your duty to your kingdom transcended that which was to yourself; if you were raised to exhibit stability and security over desire or even love, would you serve your people, or prioritise the latter?” He stepped closer again and offered his hands to take hers. Rayne stared at them, then her brow furrowed as she met Liam’s gaze.

“I would find a compromise,” she stated matter-of-factly. It was the most logical decision to make, if not the easiest to execute.

“Something I have considered.” Liam nodded, and reached out to hold Rayne’s hands. “but a compromise doesn’t mean forgetting the part you least anticipate.”

The logic of Liam’s argument was well-founded, but this wasn’t even a discussion. Liam squeezed her hands and she returned the gentle pressure before answering.

“It seems we have reached an impasse, then,” she said.

“Indeed.” A soft spark in Liam’s eye matched his rueful smile. “Thank you for allowing me to express my thoughts.”

“Of course.” Rayne’s small smile quickly faded. “This can’t affect the trial.”

“It won’t.” Liam squeezed her hands again. “Nor can it affect Leo and Evie. We can pick up our discussion when things have settled.”

--

Genevieve wore her day clothes into court, much more at home in quality linen than standard cotton. She entered calmly, though from the stand Rayne observed the delicate flush in her cheeks and the way she tried not to wring her hands together. Liam waited until she had recited an oath to be truthful and was seated before he continued.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. O’Mara,” he began, “we’ll begin with basic questions, and if you feel the need to make a short statement to the court, you are welcome to do so following those.”

“Thank you, King Liam.” Gen lifted her chin to him, her eyes flicking over to where Rayne sat with Leo and Regina. She kept her mother’s gaze until Gen looked away. “Genevieve is perfectly fine, though.”

Now that they had a crowd, Rayne watched Gen’s professional persona come online. She could be very charismatic when she wanted to be, and Rayne was glad that the judge was Liam.

“Good. Now. Have you been in contact with Countess Madeleine before or since your arrival in Cordonia this month?”

Gen nodded. “I was put in touch with her a few months ago.”

“And was the objective to transfer custody of Crown Prince Leo Rhys and Princess Evelyn Rhys from Lady Rayne and myself to the Countess?”

“It was.” At her words there was a collective intake of breath from the crowd. A hand rested on Rayne’s trembling one and squeezed it, and when she turned to see Leo looking at her with concern, she realised how rigid her posture was. A massage wouldn’t go astray. Rayne smiled gratefully and Leo continued to hold her hand in both of his.

“And did you arrange for me to sign over custody?”

Looking across to the other group at the top of the room, Rayne caught her friend’s eye. Clair smirked, giving her a thumbs up and a wink before returning rapt attention to the trial.

“I did.” Gen looked away, and her voice sounded resigned. “I organised to deliver a drug to you through an assistant in my employ. I had them coerce you into signing the form while you were in a suggestible state, which Madeleine then took to a council meeting I believe while you remained unconscious in your room.”

“In his room…” Leo whispered, leaning close to Rayne’s ear, “didn’t you find him in his office?”

Rayne nodded, eyes still on Gen.

“I see.” Liam looked at the notes in front of him, but from the depth of his frown Rayne knew he wasn’t reading them. The room was silent, all eyes on the king, as he measured his next words. Minutes seemed to pass, and Rayne felt sweat on her palms, holding in a breath. His gaze flicked to Rayne’s for barely a moment, an apology in them that ran deep. She swallowed hard and kept her face impassive.

“I have one more question for you, before we adjourn.” Liam’s piercing focus travelled to the woman he questioned. His voice deep and even, he asked, “what prompted you to take part in this?”

Nobody in the room moved a muscle as Gen closed her eyes, smoothed her clothes, then lifted her chin. Rayne had played this game long enough to know a fake sorrow from a true one. She had seen a similar one in her own mirror before; the expression was genuinely strained. Her mother locked eyes with her.

“I wanted… all I ever wanted… is to have my daughter back.”

--

The winter would arrive for them soon, but for now autumn was warm; perfect for a day away from the palace. Liam offered a hand to Rayne as she stepped out of the car, then circled to the opposite passenger side to unbuckle Evie as Rayne did the same for Leo. He handed a thick blanket to Rayne and pulled out a basket, leaning in for a brief kiss before they left the car and entered the woods.

“Do you remember the way?” asked Rayne. Liam kept her pace, an easy smile on his face as they walked through dappled shade beneath rusty, swaying leaves.

“Yes.” He turned to see the same smooth, calm expression on Rayne’s face as she smiled back at him.

“Good.”

They didn’t walk much further to reach the clearing they visited most often. An almost flat area near the edge was large enough to lay out their blanket and shaded enough to sit in for hours. Soon enough they could relax back, and with a contented sigh he lay on his back and rested Evie on his chest.

“Hey beautiful girl,” he cooed, “welcome to our favourite place.” He looped his fingers in her fists and she applied some pressure as she squeezed them, lifting her head to watch him. Liam moved his fingers in small circles, and Evie wriggled her arms as she followed, smiling widely. He glanced at Rayne, who beamed at them. “She has your smile.”

“They’re getting stronger.” Rayne looked down at Leo, who watched the swaying trees above them, mouth slightly ajar. Liam watched her run two fingers down his cheek, and his heart swelled at the pure love on her face as she did. Evie rested her chin on his chest and brought back his attention, resuming the gentle motions.

After some time they opened the picnic basket and pulled out lunch for him and Rayne and toys for the twins, who were settled on softer blankets beside each other. Liam looped an arm around Rayne’s waist and pulled her closer, kissing her sweetly when she turned her head to him, then leaning his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you more.” Rayne smirked as she pulled back and reached for the sandwiches and handed one to him.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” He smiled and accepted the food.

Rayne braced both hands behind her and arched her back and neck in a deep stretch, smiling at the leafy canopy. Her smile faltered when she straightened, and for a moment she was tense again, then she sighed and reached for her sandwich, her smile a little subdued.

Not until they were repacking the basket did she reveal what was bothering her.

“I think…” She reached for discarded toys, then paused with them in hand and turned to him. “I think that Gen is lying.”

Liam watched her carefully and kept his answer even. “Are you sure?”

“Not completely.” Rayne placed the toys in the basket and closed the lid. “But the way she answered those questions… complete shift from her interview in New York, and she has no reason to confess so much, so succinctly. Her whole career is built on half truths, after all.”

“I see.” Liam stood and moved the basket out of the way. “So how do you think we can be certain? We can question her again, but if I ask the same questions, we will get the same answers,” he said as he helped Rayne to her feet.

“Clair will be looking into her, I assume, after that conversation.” Rayne winced. “I haven’t seen much of her since then.”

Liam squeezed her shoulder, then “She is.”

“Good. I hope Clair will be fair, but she has had a very understandable vendetta against Gen since we met, and I’m not sure she would care if there was any evidence against this.” Rayne sighed. “You know my relationship, or lack of, with Gen. I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I didn’t think we were accusing the wrong person.”

“Alright.” Liam lifted Leo from his blanket and held him against his shoulder as Rayne did the same for Evie. “We can talk about it when we get home. Come up with a plan.”

He nodded in agreement, and they started back to the car.

--

Unenthused by his task, Liam strode down flights of stairs to the opposite wing of the palace. He had been here a few times during the social season and afterward to see Rayne, but not since she had moved to the royal wing. Most of year these rooms were nearly all empty, which was useful, because it drew less attention to the one with a permanent guard stationed outside.

“Your Majesty.” The two uniformed guards spoke in unison and bowed to him. He nodded to acknowledge them, then knocked twice and opened the door to a modest, light room.

“Nice of you to grace my presence, Liam,” came a voice from the corner. The angle of the windows placed her in shadow, but as he focused, he saw his ex-wife seated as a small desk, writing what looked like a letter.

“Madeleine.” Liam nodded. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

Madeleine stood, placed the lid back on her pen, and laced her fingers together in front of her. The cunning smile she had had since he had known her was fast in place.

“Why would I answer them?”

“Because I am still your king, and because they may lessen your sentence.” Liam waited as Madeleine pursed her lips and lifted her chin, and he watched her consider the answer.

“How is my estate?” she countered.

“You aren’t in a position to be questioning me. But…” A plan formed in his mind and he gave a half smile. “Quid pro quo. I will tell you of your affairs, and you will answer my questions. One for one.”

“Deal. You first.” She didn’t move a muscle as she watched him, a practised stoicism that he had always associated with hiding something.

“Fydelia is being overseen by your mother and major-domo while the trial is running.”

Madeleine scowled, then exhaled. “I see. And your question?”

“How did you first contact Genevieve?”

“Ah.” She glanced at the desk beside her, then to him again. “I spoke to her assistant, two weeks before her arrival.”

Keeping his face impassive, Liam stepped further into the room. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“And how did you contact her while she was here?”

“My question, I believe.” She waited for his nod, then continued. “Who is running my conference next week?”

“I am.” Liam wanted to add that the conference seemed an unnecessary formality, but he hadn’t come here for that discussion. “And my question?”

“I see.” She shrugged. “I’ve had no contact with her. She was given a brief in the initial contact and acted independently since then.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. I’m surprised she decided on drugging you. Much too melodramatic, but I suppose subtlety isn’t an American trait. Poisoning a monarch is such a cliché.” Madeleine’s eyes were near the ceiling, but she was far from focused on that. She was waiting for him to bite back, as he had before.

“Did you have another question?” He asked instead, regaining her attention.

“What do the press know about the trial?” she said immediately.

“Only that you’re in it, and that they’ll get statements and minutes once it’s over. I have one more question.”

“Make it a good one, then.” Madeleine smirked, crossing her arms expectantly and raising an eyebrow. It didn’t quite mask her discomfort.

“Why did you use Rayne’s mother?”

When she didn’t respond immediately, the credence there was more involved unfolded in Liam’s mind. Madeleine took a long, deep breath, giving her time to calculate.

“A recognisable figure even in this country. Her association with her daughter discredits Rayne’s ‘family’ image.” She turned back and Liam’s jaw tightened. That reasoning he could believe. Facing him again, she fiddled with the pen now in her hand.

“You underestimate her again, Madeleine.” Liam turned back to the door and reached for the handle.

“I believe you owe me one more question.”

Gripping the doorknob, Liam shook his head. “Later, perhaps,” he said to the door as he opened it. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced back at her impassive expression, but nothing compelled him to be grateful, so he left.

--

Three hard knocks on the heavy wooden door woke him effectively. Grumbling at the wake-up call, Drake rubbed his eyes, pulled on some jeans, and stumbled to the door. He ripped it open.

“What?” He all but shouted in their face, blinking in the lighter hallway to refocus, and finding Leo’s smirk too unphased for his liking. A snort behind him brought Olivia into focus, rolling her eyes and standing behind Leo.

“You need to come with me,” Leo stated. As soon as he spoke, he turned and started down the hall. Drake didn’t move.

“I’m busy, and why the hell would I go with you?”

Leo glanced at Olivia, then looked uneasily at him. “It’s important. I’ll explain when we get there.”

“You’ll fucking explain now, Rhys, or you can piss off without me.” Drake scowled, ignoring Olivia’s judgement, then rubbed his face again.

“Look…” Leo paused, then faced him again, shifting his weight uneasily. “It’s about the trial. We need to speak to Liam and Rayne; we need to do that asap.”

Olivia followed Leo, leaving Drake to absorb both the words and the urgency, then exhaled loudly. Grabbing the closest shirt from the ground, he shut his door and started groggily after them, pulling on his t-shirt as he went.

As they walked through the palace, Drake became more aware of the details of his surroundings. Still fine with following Leo, he noticed how unkempt the man’s outfit was, and laughed when he realised why.

“You finally slept with her, huh?”

Leo turned his head to wink at them. “Told you it wouldn’t take long.”

“Rayne’s gonna kill you, Leo.” Olivia shared a knowing look with Drake, then looked forward again, “That will be interesting to watch.”

“I doubt it.” Leo shook his head as they reached Rayne’s apartments. He knocked and turned back to them. “Well, she might try, but that depends on where she’s placing her trust right now.”

“What?”

Leo managed half a rueful smile before the door opened and Liam appeared.

“Morning, little brother.”

“Uh… good morning…” Liam replied, looking past his brother to Drake and Olivia. Drake shrugged. “What are the three of you here so early for?”

“I have no fucking idea why.” Drake nodded to Leo, scowling. “Bastard woke me up.”

“Pull it together, Walker.” Olivia rammed his side with an elbow. He swore. “Stop acting like a child.”

Confused, Liam turned back to Leo, who continued. “We need to talk. Can we come inside?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Liam nodded, and stepped back to let them in. Drake looked around as they entered to see if the others were there but found it empty.

“Rayne will be out in a moment. Do we need her as well?”

Leo sighed. “Yes.” He raked both hands through his hair and stopped in the middle of the room. Liam nodded, and disappeared up the hall to their room. The three of them stood awkwardly in the quiet, sunlit room as they waited for the others, finding armchair arms to perch on. A few minutes later, Liam returned with Rayne, who was drying her hair with a towel.

“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing between each of them. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s about the trial, apparently.” Olivia spoke in a bored tone, but Drake heard the curiosity run beneath.

“I should call Clair,” Rayne looked around for her phone, “she’ll want to hear it, then.”

“No, don’t.” Leo bit his lip as he looked at her and Drake rolled his eyes. “She’s probably still sleeping.”

Rayne stared at him, and Drake shared a glance with Olivia as they waited for the drama.

“Leo…” Rayne started, then shook her head, “she’s in your room, isn’t she?”

“Sure is.” Leo grinned, “and her stamina isn’t what I had hoped, so she’ll be there a while, but that’s beside the point.”

“You know there is a point where detail becomes too much information, right Leo?” Drake stretched and raised an eyebrow at the man, who shrugged.

“It’s never stopped him before,” said Liam, “but setting that aside, why are you here?”

They were interrupted by a gurgled laugh from the corner of the room. Drake hadn’t even noticed the set up for each of the twins there, with hanging toys above them that they grabbed at with lopsided smiles. He looked back in time to see the warm smiles on their parents’ faces before the two focused on the conversation again.

“We need to check the security footage again,” said Leo, bringing the mood back to business.

“Of the study?” asked Rayne, “we’ve checked it a dozen times.”

“But we never got an exact identity from whoever drugged Liam…” Drake crossed his arms and frowned, sitting straight on the armrest. “Why would you check it another time?”

“He’s found something else to direct the search.” Olivia tilted her head as Leo nodded. “Nice going, Rhys.”

“I have a possible name,” he said, then turned to the others, settling on Rayne, who stood closest. “I really hope I’m wrong.”

--

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[kayteewritessteve]

If Only You Knew - 11/19

Description: You arrive home one day to find a wedding invite for two of your best friends from high school. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but even with that said, you weren’t prepared to return home. At least not after 7 years of avoiding Buckhannon, West Virginia. Or rather, avoiding him; your ex-best friend and the secret love of your life. But maybe it was finally time to face your past, to face him, and everything else that happened on that horrible night. Who would have knew that your prom would end up being a total disaster, and the very last night you’d spend in Buckhannon for the next 7 years? you certainly didn’t. That’s for sure.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 6,060 ish. She’s a big one.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Bad and offensive jokes. Possible triggering thoughts, feelings and emotions. Moments of bullying and harsh name calling. Lots of curse words. And a very sloooow burn.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

July 2018 - Present.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nat seethed as she paced an actual line into the soft, tan coloured sand. Her mood matching the bright red two piece she currently had on, “how dare she!”

“I’m going to knock her out,” Hilde said, much too calmly for your liking. She was currently laying on her back, on a giant blanket on the ground, wearing massive dark shades, and a white bikini that accented her skin tone almost too well. Girl was a babe for sure, but right now she looked far too peaceful to be threatening anyone. And yet she was, and that made you inwardly cringe, just a little.

“I think she needs actually mental help,” Wanda said without looking up from the novel open in her hands, as she sat in a fold up chair. “And I’d know. I am a therapist, after all.”

“Ladies,” you sighed, “she isn’t worth it. And she never actually said Steve’s name. I was the idiot who jumped to conclusions,” you said as you shook your head. You had clearly blown that whole interaction way out of proportion. Like always. Fuck.

“That’s no excuse,” Nat abruptly stopped her pacing, to point at you. “She did it on purpose to hurt you. Just like in fucking high school,” her fists balled up at her sides then she huffed and started to pace again.

“Seriously. The next time I see her, it’s game on,” Hilde said, again, far too calmly for your liking.

“I say we just have her committed for a check,” Wanda shrugged nonchalantly.

“Okay, no one is beating anyone up. We aren’t in high school anymore. And no psych evals,” you stated then stomped over to Nat and placed yourself in front of her, on part of the line she was quickly forming. And once she came to a grinding halt you grabbed both her shoulders to force her to look you in the eyes. “Nat, you are literally marrying a cop in 3 days. And gaining another cop as basically a damn brother in law. You can’t go around attacking people, you’ll end up in jail, and Bucky will be pissed at me for that!”

Then you released her shoulders and turned to point at Hilde, “and the same goes for you, your best friends are the same two cops, and you’re a trained MMA fighter for crying out loud. If you attack her you’ll be charged with ‘assault with a deadly weapon’. Because Hilde, you are the deadly weapon,” you stressed the last part.

Then you looked over at Wanda, who had finally looked up from her book, “I don’t actually know anything around the rules for being a therapist, but I am willing to bet that committing someone because they enjoy bullying your friend is against at least one of them. If not all of them,” you sighed and shook your head. “So the three of you just need to drop this. I fell for her bullshit, again, but that’s on me. I’ll own that. But I can’t have any of you taking the fall for it. You got that?” You shook your head again, this time crossing your arms as well, “I won’t allow that,” you said firmly.

“Fine,” Nat and Wanda mumbled, as the latter focused back on her book.

“Yeah. Got it,” Hilde nodded and waved you off.

“Good,” you smiled and dropped your arms, “now let’s enjoy this beautiful day at the lake, and just forget about Madeleine and her bullshit, okay?” You looked between the three. “We all need a nice relaxing day before the craziness of this wedding picks up again.”

“Valid point,” Nat said as she wandered over to the blanket and laid down beside Hilde. “Get your butt over here punk,” she commanded.

“Punk, really?” You laughed. “You spend way to much time with Bucky,” you shook your head then went and joined them on the blanket.

“No such thing as too much time together when you’re marrying the guy,” Nat laughed.

“Oh, no, there is totally a thing as too much time together,” Wanda laughed, “but oddly enough, I think you two are the exception to the norm.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Hilde said with a chuckle and you laughed as well. Then the four of you lounged in the sun, working on your tans and waiting on the boys to show up.

It was about 20 minutes later when a flirty voice came from somewhere near you all. “Ladies,” they cooed and you recognized the voice instantly. Sam. You peeked through your eyelids and turned your head towards the voice, seeing the four guys making their way towards you. “You’re all looking stunning, as always,” he said as they reached the three of you.

“Calm down, Casanova,” Nat said with a smirk as she sat up, and Wanda giggled at the name.

While Hilde just chuckled from her spot, “you’re such a suck up.”

“Hey!” he laughed, “I am not a suck up! I just say it like it is,” he winked, causing you to snort and shake your head, deciding to stay out of this one. Bucky plopped down on the blanket near his fiancee, while the other three popped open their folded up chairs and got all set up.

“You better not be hitting on my soon to be wife, Sammy,” Bucky said flatly then kissed Nat on the cheek.

“Why? Worried she’ll dump your ass and get with a real man?” He shot back.

Without missing a beat, Bucky relied, “Hey Sam, can I talk to you in the water for a second?” He paused as a half smirk appeared on his lips, “I just wanna show you something real quick.”

Clint leaned towards Sam to whisper—though it wasn’t really that quiet, as the whole group clearly heard him, “he means that he’s going to try to drowned you. Just so you know.”

“I know that,” Sam said quickly while he playfully swatted Clint away, “but I’d like to see him try.”

“Oh, I’d do more then try,” Bucky mumbled loudly.

Steve just laughed and shook his head at his friends, then everyone exchanged there hello’s and hi’s before they all started to settle in and chat amongst themselves.

You turned to look just as Steve reached behind himself so he could yank his extremely tight t-shirt off—Yes, in that super sexy way, where the guy grabs the back neck collar of their shirt and pulls it over their head. He was like a damn GQ model, and that frustrated the hell out of you.

You tried with everything in your power to not gawk at him, but the sight of him shirtless still made you extremely dazed and confused, even after all this time. You snuck a quick glance as the shirt covered his face, realizing that he was even more jacked than he was in high school. Which was fucking ridiculous. How he could possibly get any more toned was beyond you. It just wasn’t fair for one man to be this fucking attractive.

Just as he finished pulling his shirt off—the too small article of clothing surprisingly not getting stuck on him—you quickly shook your head then turned to stare off at the water. Hoping your heated cheeks wouldn’t give you away, or rather, that no one would notice them. But just to be safe you stood up, mumbling a ‘be right back’ than walked over to the edge of the water, sitting down to dip your feet in.

As you sat there, looking out at the lake, the calm water and beautiful bright green trees lining the waters edge made your mind start to wander. Remembering the first time you had ever been brought to this very spot. It was the second summer you’d spent in Buckhannon—if we’re counting the summer you’d moved to town as the first—it was also the first day of summer break, and the last day before Steve left for his annual, summer long, family vacation…

July 2010 - 8 years ago.

You stopped dead in your tracks once your eyes caught the view laid out in front of you. Your friends all continuing to walk to their spot, unfazed by the beauty that surrounded you all. Clearly they had been here so many times that they barely noticed anymore. But for you, this was a first.

Now you’d been to a few lakes before, back in Cleveland, or rather, one lake, one very giant lake; Lake Erie. Which was not only huge, but was also encircled by a few major cities and settled smack dab on the border between America and Canada.

So needless to say, the lake in front of you right now was entirely different from what you were used to. And there was just something about a small town watering hole that was both awe inspiring and breathtaking.

“You okay?” You heard Steve’s voice coming from beside you and it snapped you back to reality.

“Huh?” You looked over at him, “Yeah. Yes. Just admiring the view,” you smiled up at him then you looked back towards to lake, both of you standing in silence for a moment.

“You know,” he started, breaking the comfortable silence. “I’d completely forgotten just how beautiful this place is. Guess I just needed a new set of eyes to remind me,” he nodded, thoughtfully.

“I’m nothing if not super helpful,” you said with a quick nod. “You should know that by now, Stevie,” you smirked.

Which caused him to laugh and roll his eyes playfully as he said, “oh, don’t worry, I do.”

“Good,” you laughed then you both headed towards where your friends were setting up their stuff.

Once you had your little spot set up, you pulled off the dress you’d been wearing over your bathing suit, which was just simple, black, and fit you perfectly. You discarded the dress on top of your bag then laid down and chatted with your friends for a little while. It was a gorgeous day out, hot and humid, so you’d go dunk yourself in the beautiful water from time to time. Mostly alone but sometimes a friend or two would tag along for a dip in the water as well.

Now as you laid on your beach towel, working on your tan, your stomach decided it was a good time to speak up. Reminding you that it did, in fact, exist. The loud grumble made you and the others laugh, and you figured now was a good time for some french fries.

As you all had made your way in from the parking lot, you’d noticed a concession stand near the main beach. You’d also taken note of the giant menu on the side of the building—or rather, you’d noticed fries were very much on that menu. You stood up and slipped on your flip flops as you looked around at your lounging friends. “I’m gonna go get some fries from the concession, anyone want anything?”

Everyone responded with the one or two things they wanted or a head shake saying they were good. You made mental notes for the few items that had been requested.

But then your eyes landed on Bucky, noticing his were widened with excitement. “Food sounds like a fantastic plan,” he said as he stood up and walked over to his pile of things. “I can always eat,” he added as he pulled his wallet out and went to grab money to give you but you waved him off.

“It’s okay, Buck, I got it. Just tell me what you want.”

“You may want to give him a limit,” Steve laughed from his fold up chair.

“Yeah, don’t give him free reign or he’ll drain your bank account with that bottomless pit of his,” Sam shook his head and chuckled as he patted Bucky on the stomach. They’d always had a weird love/hate dynamic. They were downright rude to each other sometimes, but yet they both never got truly offended by any of it. And if anyone else messed with either of them, the other was always the first in line to defend them. You were all used to the banter now.

Bucky swatted Sam’s hand away, and playfully said, “get your grubby hands off me, bird boy.”

The nickname causing a few of you to laugh quietly or snort. Sam was in love with planes—or anything aerospace related, for that matter—and would always say, that if he could have any super power, it would be flight. No questions about it.

Most kids at this age have no clue what they want to be when they ‘grow up’. But Sam, oh he knew. He had wanted to be a pilot since he was a kid, and already had his private pilots license. And had flown a handfull of times on his own already. So as soon as high school was done, his plan was to go for his commercial license, then start applying at all the major airlines. He had it all worked out, and you were so happy for him, but also slightly jealous, as you had no clue what you wanted to be when you ‘grew up’. But knew you’d figure it out one day. Hopefully soon. But as for the nickname, Bucky had jokingly called Sam ‘bird boy’ once in passing, and it had just stuck.

A smile broke out on your face just as Bucky began to list off all the things he wanted. Which then caused your smile to drop, as you damn near fell over at just how long that list actually was. Luckily for you, Steve offered to help you carry everything back. And you ended up accepting Bucky’s offer to cover the cost, as Sam was right, he would have drained your whole back account. And then some. Guy was clearly a black hole, where food was concerned. You’d even go so far as to label him ‘The Human Garburator’.

But that’s neither here nor there, as now you and Steve were standing alone by the concession stand, waiting for the massive order, as you looked around at all the happy lake goers. Kids splashing in the water, teens sunbathing and laughing amongst themselves, adults trying to wrangle their little ones and bath them in sunscreen. The whole thing made you extremely aware that it was, in fact, summer. And that you’d have to say goodbye to your best friend for 2 whole months.

You’d been dreading this day for weeks, in these last few months he’d become such a huge part of your life. The biggest part if you were being honest, and the thought of not seeing him, talking to him or just having him hang out and watch a movie with you, was devastating, to say the least.

He was your rock, your therapist, your bodyguard, your best friend and the one person you truly felt you could just be you around. No walls. No effort. No faking—Well minus hiding your insanely huge crush, but that was a different matter entirely—You’d never had anyone like him in your life before, and you vowed months ago that you’d never let him go and you’d always have him. No matter what. He was that one constant that would always be there. And that thought is what would give you the strength to make it through these next two months without him.

You turned to look up at him, you’d both been standing there in silence, clearly he’d been lost in thought as well. The look on his face instantly confirmed your suspicions that he was, in fact, lost in his mind as he stared off blankly at the water, just like you’d been doing.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said softly.

That caught his attention and he turned his head to look down at you, “I’m going to miss you, too,” he nodded.

You could feel the tears stinging the back of your eyes from both your omissions. You hadn’t really allowed yourself to think too much about him leaving, as you knew you’d break down instantly. He must have noticed your internal struggle to hold back your tears as he turned his body towards you and his large arms encircled you, pulling you in close to his chest.

As your cheek met the bare skin of his pectoral muscle, your mind was instantly reminded that he was still very much shirtless, and you were now very much pressed into his skin. You felt the heat begin to raise, starting in your chest and working it’s way up. You chided yourself for having this reaction, but this was also the first time you’d ever hugged him shirtless and the softness of his skin, mixed with the firmness and heat caused the butterflies to take off in your stomach. No matter how hard you tried to not focus on all of that, your mind had other ideas.

Then he sweetly kissed the top of your head and it just made your mind run even more. He left his face pressed into your hair as he spoke quietly, “I’ve been dreading this day for weeks.”

You nodded as you weren’t sure if your voice would work or not. The lump in your throat and the stinging in your eyes both told you it probably wouldn’t. But when a soft sniffle sounded from your nose, Steve stiffened and pulled away from you just enough to look down at your face. You didn’t want him to see you like this, but he gently grabbed your cheek to force you to look up at him, locking your eyes with his beautiful blues.

“Hey, it’s okay, Y/N,” he said and then the eye contact was broken as his drifted over your features slowly while his thumb wiped away the stray tear you hadn’t been able to stop. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he added quietly, guilt clear in his voice.

You shook your head, and went to speak, you weren’t sure how your voice was going to sound, but you couldn’t allow him to feel bad for something he didn’t do. “You didn’t upset me at all. I’ve been dreading this day as well. I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you around all the time,” you replied just as an idea came to mind, and you decided things were just getting far too heavy for your liking and at this rate you’d be a sobbing mess in no time. You placed a pondering finger to your chin, tapping it lightly, “now that I think about it, this may actually be a wonderful break.”

He playfully glared at you then scoffed, “oh, I see how it is.” He crossed his arms and pouted, “and here I thought we were actually friends,” he turned his head to look away from you.

You forced your features to stay neutral and serious, “well, clearly you thought wrong. I only keep you around for your directional skills.”

His head snapped back to stare at you. And you did everything in your power to hold it together. The look on his face was making that exceptionally difficult though, and you burst out laughing.

The mock hurt look on his face made you put your hands up in surrender, “okay, okay. That’s a total lie. That’s not the only reason.” You stifled your laugh, attempting to be serious again, “you’re also a fucking giant, so you’re super helpful when it comes to reaching things that are too high up for me. But I think those may be the only two reasons,” you pondered that for a moment then shrugged, “yup. Can’t think of any others.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Oh, you’ll pay for that one, Y/L/N,” he said as he reached out and you attempted to get away but he was far too fast, he grabbed you then started to tickle you mercilessly. “Take it back,” he scolded as he continued. You squirmed and laughed as you tried desperately to get away but just as he was faster than you, he was also a lot stronger than you. “Had enough yet?”

You managed to get out a stern, “nope,” as you continued to try to get away. Everyone around you both was probably staring at you now, but you didn’t care one bit. You and Steve were always in your own little world and probably always had people giving you odd looks or watching as you both made fools of yourselves. But this was just how it was for the two of you.

“I’m not gonna stop until you take it back!” He threatened.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you squealed and wiggled around as the tickle attack continued. “Okay! Okay. I give. I give! I take it back!” You screamed between laughs, but before he could stop you went to pull away, one last time, with all your might.

However he clued in and pulled you right back towards him with force, causing your world to shift instantly. You screamed as you landed with a thud and it took you a second to realize you’d both fallen over, and you were now laying on top of him, on the ground.

Your eyes locked with his and you both just stayed frozen in place, no longer laughing but your heaving chests remained, as a reminder that you had been meer seconds ago. His arms were enclosed around you tightly as your hands laid firmly pressed to his chest. Neither speaking, both your hearts pounding and breathing heavily from the tickle war.

You felt his arms tighten even more around you, and something in his eyes started to pull you towards him, aggressively. You leaned down slowly, not breaking the eye contact once. Therefore not missing as his eyes widened more and more, with each inch closer that you got to him.

But just as you could feel his breath on your face, finding yourself maybe an inch away from him now, at most, you heard the concession stand worker call out your order number. You froze as the daze of the moment promptly lifted and you pulled away from Steve like he’d been a roaring fire.

“Oh god,” you whispered as you scrambled to climb off him and stand up. “I’m so sorry! I ah, I didn’t mean to,” you trailed off and shook your head as you took a shaky step back, trying to give him room so he could stand up. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He just looked up at you for a moment then sighed deeply and stood up as well, dusting off his swim trunks once he was up. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “and no, you didn’t hurt me. I don’t think you could, even if you tried.” He attempted to laugh jokingly at that, but it fell short and ended up sounding way more awkward than anything. He shook his head and than his face went instantly serious as he moved towards you, “are you okay though?”

You took another step back, needing to distance yourself from him just a little. You’d almost kissed him in that moment and that would not have been good. At all. You had to get this stupid crush under control, and fucking stat! “Yep,” you said quickly, “I’m good. Let’s go get our food.” You abruptly turned around and headed for the concession to pick up your order. You heard him deeply sigh again from behind you, then he joined you at the counter. You both picked up all the food and started to head back towards your friends.

Neither one of you spoke the whole walk back, and for the first time ever, the silence between you was not comfortable, it was the opposite of that actually. You kicked yourself internally for allowing your stupid crush to cloud your judgement. It had clearly made him uncomfortable, his current silence making that pretty fucking obvious.

You couldn’t let your silly feelings in that moment ruin the last day you had with him. You had to say something. Anything. You had to make this better, “I’m sorry again, I ah, I don’t know what came over me just now.” You stopped walking and looked up at him, causing him to stop as well. “Can we just pretend that never happened?” You asked, hopeful that he’d accept your request and forget that it ever happened. Hopeful that it wouldn’t ruin your friendship. Or his final day.

His brows furrowed together for a moment then he sighed and corrected his face into its normal relaxed look, “yup. Whatever you want, Y/N,” he nodded and smiled, but you could tell it was forced. Though you didn’t push him about it, you just wanted to change the subject and leave this whole awkward moment in the past.

“So,” you started, trying to think of a topic to change the conversation to, as you both began to walk again. “You excited for your trip?”

“Yup,” he replied. And even though he’d agreed to just forget this whole thing, you could tell it was clearly still bothering him. Good job smart one, way to make your best friend fucking uncomfortable. Damnit!

“Ah, that’s good,” you nodded, “I bet Sokovia is lovely this time of year.”

“Yeah, it is,” he nodded as you both reached your friends. Both of you handed out the food and went back to your respective spots. Which luckily weren’t right next to each other, like usual. You sat on your towel, kicking your flip flops off then quietly munched on your fries, and stared off at the water. You had to fix this whole mess. You had to.

But the rest of the day dragged on, and it felt like Steve was actively avoiding you, which was exactly what you didn’t want happening. All because you almost kissed him, clearly he was not okay with that. Not even in the slightest.

It was now night time and you all had gone to the annual year end bonfire. Wanda had told you a few weeks back that it was a tradition at Shield High, all the students would get together for a giant bonfire on the beach. Everyone’s way of ending the school year and starting the summer break off right, as she put it. It was your first time ever going to one, and you knew this was going to be your last chance to fix things with Steve, before he left in the morning.

But then every time you’d try to talk to him, you’d get interrupted by some drunk student calling for him, or walking up and inserting themselves into your conversation. And it was getting fucking frustrating, to say the least. So near the end of the night, when you noticed him wandering off alone into a forested area, you followed him. Yes, this was a creepy thing to do, but you were desperate at this point. And this may be your last chance to talk to him, and there was no way in hell you’d let it slip away.

You figured he was going to find a place to pee so you waited at the tree line for him to be done. The sound of small branches cracking and crunching told you he was coming back towards you now. As he came into view you made yourself known, not wanting to startle him.

“Hey,” you waved awkwardly.

But even though you tried not to startle him, you clearly had. He tensed and jumped slightly then relaxed once he realized it was you, “ah, hey.”

“Can we talk?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded then you took his hand and pulled him away from the fire to find a quiet place to chat. The feeling of his large warm hand in yours brought back the same butterflies it had at his birthday, when you’d taken his hand to lead him outside.

You shook your head slightly, trying to not allow yourself to think about just how amazing his hand always felt in yours. That was the last thing you needed to be thinking about right now. Your stupid crush being the exact reason you were now in this whole fucking situation. You reached a small deserted picnic area and released his hand as you sat at one of the picnic tables, Steve sitting down on the opposite side of it.

You were now just staring down at your hands on the table, not entirely sure what to say or how to even start this conversation. But luckily for you, Steve spoke up first, “so, what did you want to talk about?”

You looked up at him, “you leave tomorrow.”

He smirked and nodded his head, clearly finding the humour in you stating the obvious, “that I do.”

“For 2 months,” you stated the obvious, yet again. But you kind of just needed to build up to this conversation. Needed to state the facts. Maybe so you could come to terms with them a little more.

He sighed deeply, “yup.”

“Are you mad at me?” You blurted out—and so much for building up to it. Shit.

His eyes widened momentarily then his brows furrowed, “what? Why would I be mad at you?”

You sighed, “you’ve been avoiding me all night, Steve.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. So spill it, how do I fix this? You leave tomorrow and I refuse to let you leave with any hostility between us,” you gestured between you both.

“I haven’t,” he shook his head, “and there isn’t any hostility between us.” He paused before firmly adding, “at all.”

“Then why does it feel like there is?”

He shrugged, “I duno, I don’t feel it. But I do know that I’m going to miss you like crazy, and the closer we get to having to say our final goodbyes for the summer is really getting to me. So maybe you’re taking that as hostility?”

“Maybe,” you said more to yourself as you nodded. He did have a valid point, one that would make sense. “So, were good then?” You asked hopefully.

He just chuckled and said, “we were never not good.”

“Oh thank god,” you breathed out then laughed. “I think you’re right though. The closer we get to the end of the night, the more upset I get as well.” You paused to just stare at him for a moment, as a bunch of emotions started to run wild again, but you forced them down. “What am I going to do without you all summer?” You widened your eyes, feigning a realization than you leaned forward to whisper as your eyes darted around anxiously, “and who’s going to break into my room at night, like some creepy stalker?”

He threw his head back and burst out laughing for a few minutes. “You’re so weird,” he joked as he composed himself and focused back on you, wiping the joyful tears from his eyes as he did. You always took it as an accomplishment if you could cause him to laugh so hard that he’d tear up. It being one of your favourite of his tics. “And it’s not breaking in if you leave the window open for me,” he pointed out as he shook his head then turned a little more serious. “But I promise we will talk every day. The time differences may make it difficult, but I’ll always respond whenever I can.”

You nodded and looked back down at your hands, feeling the weight of this moment all over again. “Okay,” you sighed, “that makes me feel a little better.” And that was true, it did. But texting him wouldn’t be the same as having him around. And once again you felt the sting of tears in your eyes, blinking quickly to try to eradicate them.

So when you felt the picnic table wiggle and shift, you quickly looked up to see Steve stand and walk around to you, offering you his hand which you willingly took. He then pulled you up to your feet and into one of those amazing hugs of his. Which was exactly what you’d needed in this moment. And clearly he’d known that.

You both just stood there silently for a while, enjoying each other's embrace. Then you felt him sigh deeply before he finally spoke up, “we should probably get back,” he squeezed you a little tighter. “But please try to not let this upset you to much, okay?” He asked and you just nodded into his chest. “I’m sure these next two months will fly by for both of us. And before we know it, we’ll be back in class,” he joking groaned and it caused you both to laugh. And with that you both reluctantly released from the hug and made your way back to the fire.

The talk had helped you relax, and the rest of the night ended up being a fucking blast. You didn’t feel anymore hostility at all, and at the end of the night he dropped you off at home and you said your final goodbyes. You’d managed to get through them without shedding a single tear, at least not until you watched his jeep drive away down the road. That sight though killed you, and you burst into tears instantly.

You spent the next few days cooped up in your bed, moping and being miserable. Your friends contacted you multiple times but you’d just tell them you were sick, not wanting to leave your cocoon of comfort. However, after a few more days they weren’t buying your shit anymore. They all showed up and dragged your ass outta bed, forcing you to make the most of your summer. Which you did so reluctantly at first, but then you just sort of fell into a rhythm.

Each passing day bringing you one step closer to having him back. But he had lied to you that night, your summer didn’t fly by, like at all. It was actually the longest two months of your whole fucking life. Or at least you swore it was. And that was even with talking to him daily, via both text messages and phone calls. But it still didn’t feel like enough.

It was that 2 months without him that you finally realized it wasn’t just a silly stupid crush anymore. No, you were in love with him, 100 percent. And that was not a good realization to have about your best friend. At least not one who saw you as basically a little sister. Fuck, you were doomed.

July 2018 - Present.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.”

You turned your head to see a still, very much, shirtless Steve plop down at the water's edge beside you. Finding yourself, once again, trying to avoid looking at his ridiculously muscular physique and far too exposed torso. So you forced yourself to hold eye contact with him. Which was a lot more difficult than you’d have liked.

“Yeah, I was just enjoying the view,” you nodded then turned to look back at the water. Using that as your new distraction from the fucking GQ model to your right. “For a while there, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see this place again.”

A silence fell over you both and it was in this exact moment that you realized it was far too quiet, you turned your head around and noticed everyone was missing now. It was just Steve and you. But before you could even ask he piped up, “they all went to get food, Clint is bringing back fries for you.”

You laughed, “that’s really sweet of him.”

Another silence fell over you, this one lasting a few minutes, at most. “Are you happy to be back?”

You kept your eyes on the water but smiled and nodded, “honestly, I am.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked and that got your attention, you turned and made eye contact again and he looked almost vulnerable in this moment, which made your heart start to race.

You nodded, “yeah, of course.”

He sighed then looked out at the water himself, “this place just hasn’t been the same since you left.” Then his hand went up to rub the back of his neck, “I’m ah, I’m really glad you’re back,” he said so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him.

“I am too,” you whispered, a giant smile gracing your lips as you took his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I just wish it hadn’t taken me so long to come home.”

He nodded but didn’t speak, and at that you leaned your head on his shoulder as you both just enjoyed the quiet, peaceful moment together, staring out at the water.

You’d missed him more than you’d ever thought, and in this exact moment it hit you like a dang freight train. How you’d made it through 7 years without this man by your side was beyond you. And you vowed, for real this time, to always fight like hell to make sure he stayed right there. By your side. You’d never again allow your life to go on without him.

You finally had your best friend back, and that was not going to change ever again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@hopefulmoonobject @harlequinash @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @badassbeckettswan @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99

[lizardrosen]

BrickClub 1.7.9-1.7.11

IX. A Place Where Convictions Are About to Shape Up

This courtroom is really grim, and it must be so much worse for Valjean, who’s been in the same kind of setting already. “This man was the man. He did not look for him, he saw him at once. His eyes gravitated toward him of their own accord, as though they had known in advance where he was.” Oh noooo!

Only, above the president’s head there was a crucifix, something that was missing from the courtrooms at the time he was convicted. When he was tried, G-d had not been there.

Except the mercy and humanity that’s so integral to Hugo’s vision of G-d is completely absent in both of the lawyers, it’s so awful.

Would anyone have cared about the Petit Gervais incident if it weren’t evidence to make Valjean’s crime even more severe, and thus a way to make it “clear” that Champmathieu must be guilty of this theft as well?

“That provincial lingo that had long constituted the eloquence of the bar and that lawyers used to use in days gone by...” Oh good, a preview of the Argot digression! <3

But what proved that this thief was Champmathieu? A single thing -- his status as an ex-convict. The attorney did not deny that this status appeared, unfortunately, to be clearly proved [...] but supposing he were the convict Jean Valjean -- did that prove that he was the stealer of the apples?”

AUGH, even the defense attorney doesn’t believe him and thinks he’s half-guilty and “obviously a cretin” D:

I despise the prosecution too, and I’m really sad!

X. The Strategy of Denial

Champmathieu’s defense is admittedly far from convincing, but it paints a horrible picture and reminds me of Fantine and Jean Valjean spilling their miserable life stories to the first person who gives them half a chance.

“In winter you get so cold you have to flap your arms to keep warm; but the masters don’t like that, they reckon it wastes time.” oh NO, why is this still a conversation we need to have in 2019, why is capitalism and profit so horrible, I hate this!

“She’d get home at seven at night and she’d get to bed quick she’d be so beat. Her husband hit her. She died. We weren’t very happy.” Those three short sentences always just SLAY me.

Everyone laughs at him and he doesn’t realize that HE’S the joke here, so he laughs too, which makes him look bad and guilty. But basically NOTHING he can do here will make him look innocent to this audience.

The accused had ended up sitting back down; he shot to his feet again when the counsel for the prosecution was finished and cried out: “You’re a nasty piece of work, you are! That’s what I wanted to say. It wouldn’t come to me at first.”

He’s right but he really shouldn’t say it.

This is so sad and it makes me so ANGRY that they keep using his confusion and defense to further vilify him. I want to dismantle the entire prison system with my bare hands, it’s not FAIR!!

Ahhh, Javert’s statement says Valjean tried to escape five or six times when it was only four D: I’m so upset.

Brevet lowers his gaze when told he can’t take the oath, but Chenildieu looks straight into the audience, and I love that peek into their characters.

The president addressed him: “The accused has heard the testimony. What do you have to say??”

He answered: “I say, Marvelous!”

And then Madeleine reveals himself!

Chapter XI. Champmathieu More and More Amazed

“His hair, still gray when he arrived in Arras, was not yet completely white when he first stepped into the courtroom. It had gone white in the hour he had been there.” I love this book.

Here are the words he spoke; we record them verbatim such as they were immediately written down after the hearing by one of those who witnessed this scene, such as they are still ringing in the ears of those who heard them, now nearly forty years ago.

I LOVE this book and its insistence that it all happened and Hugo has the primary sources to prove it. It’s so good.

“They were right when they told you Jean Valjean was a mean wretch of a man. He is perhaps not entirely to blame [...] The galleys make the galley slave” I love this BOOK, it’s so good and necessary (but seriously WHY is it still necessary?)

The poor man turned toward the audience and toward the judges with a smile that still, to this day, breaks the heart of those who saw it when they think of it. It was a smile of triumph and it was also a smile of despair.

oh SWEETHEART! Jean Valjean needs a hug!

Anyway, everyone’s too stunned to arrest him and he has a job to do, so he just leaves. His counterpart, Champmathieu, has NO idea what’s going on, poor guy.