#at least leave it out of the main tags ffs

[beebee18]

Ramen & Confessions

Lee Know x Reader

Genre; fluff, frenemies to lovers, feel good.

Characters; Minho, Y/n, Felix Brief mention- Changbin, Han, Chan & Hyunjin

Summary; You and Minho never were the best of friends however his worry when you finally attend movie night after being mia for a week seems to give way for his seemingly cool confession.

Warnings; Extremely cliche, slight insecurities, tall reader (like 5'7 and more), like one bad word.

Main masterlist skz masterlist

(I made a post long time ago about a Minho ff and you guys asked to be tagged. I would like to apologize for it not being a complete ff but I hope you enjoy this oneshot of cheesiness.) @antisocial-socialbutterfly @lixxpix @kaiyaba

Your thoughts lingered on Minho when you remembered him staring at you in the doorway, and after your talk with Felix. Even if you didn't like each other, not that you didn't, he was handsome and caring & sweet. It would be impossible to not crush on the guy, you owed him an apology.

So you moved to sit closer to him. He was surprised, to say the least, when you tapped his thigh to get his attention.

Turning to face you was not a good idea, you were so close, a mere jerk of his head and your lips would meet his, with the tv lights flashing at you, your brown eyes framed by those cute little glasses, slightly dishevelled curly hair framing your face oh so beautifully, and that smile with your barely there dimples (you insisted you had), you were a sight.

This was the closest and calmest you had been with each other in a while and it seemed to stop time for a second. He looked so pretty, his bedhead, sweats and no makeup on, shiny brown eyes looking into yours, the mole on his nose so cute you want to just boop it and that look of surprise mixed with concern on his face could melt you into a puddle if physically possible.

"I'm sorry I disappeared without saying anything." You started in a hushed voice, so as to not disturb the others. "I should have told you guys why earlier."

A snarky remark or comment would've been better cause what he did next made your heart skip a beat.

"It's okay y/n, I'm not gonna lie I was concerned, especially with Felix reminding everyone every minute that you could've 'died'. I am glad you're back." He nudged your arm with his and went back to the tv screen.

You stared at Minho side, small smile on your face, for a few seconds before Han coughed from behind the man, smirking at you, making you blush, you quickly turned to the screen to distract yourself.

Nearing the end of the movie people were asleep, mainly Felix, Han, Changbin and Hyunjin and somehow in a pile... Chan took off a few minutes ago to the studio leaving you and Minho the only ones awake.

After the movie ended you both looked around the find the human pile of idols making you giggle and Minho shake his head to stifle a laugh.

"Are you gonna put them to bed? How would that even work?" You ask standing up to help clean the remnants of the night.

"Eh just let them be, they'll separate when they want to. Are you leaving?" He asks as you start collecting your stuff, his expression slightly glum.

"I'll just move my stuff aside so I can help you clean, don't want you to do all this alone." You smiled at him putting your bag away and offering him a hand.

Minho swore he could scream in that moment.

He did take your hand and stood up facing you. You both just stood there for a few seconds, hands in each others before he cleared his throat.

You looked down and started gathering wrappers, bowls and edible food that just fell to take to the kitchen, so did Minho. And that's how he ended up making you both ramen.

He'd asked if you were hungry and you replied yes, after that no words were spoken. You went out to check on the boys, switch off electronics and when you came back there were two packs of cup noodles in front of Minho on the counter as he waited for the water to boil.

"Minho what... " You trailed off a questioning look on your face.

"You said you were hungry so..." He shrugs, smiling sheepishly, making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

You went and stood next to him, shoulders brushing the others, as he poured water in the cups and looked at you for a second, you grin at him in return which makes him chuckle, effectively hiding the cute that slipped his lips.

"Why are you laughing?" You ask him, giggling a little yourself, leaning on the counter adjacent to him. He was so cute and pure like this, you wanted to crush him in a hug so bad.

Once he was done with his fit of laughter he turns to you, coming closer, closer than ever. The proximity burned you, you guys weren't even on speaking terms 2 weeks ago and now...

"Wha-what are you doing?" You ask not wanting to embarrass yourself but you were flustered beyond belief and he was being nice?? To you??

"How come you don't hate me?" He asked staring into your eyes, he wanted a genuine answer, there was no point in lying to him, he seemed impatient.

"Well, you being mean isn't a reason for me to hate you. I knew not every one of Felix's friends would like me, it was okay. I was coping just well by being mean back. There was never any hate from my side. Unfortunately for me, the one I like, doesn't like me back...." The look of shock on your face as you slapped your hand over your mouth made Minho throw his head back in laughter.

People often said you rambled or spoke a lot. You agree now.

The embarrassment slowly creeping up on you. You made a move to slip away but Minho put his hands down by your hips on the counter and laugh slowly dissipating into a small smile, looking at your blushed face now.

"I'm sorry for being mean to you, truth is, I like you a lot. I've liked you since you visited us at dance practice for the first time and brought everyone homemade cookies. I was shy, I still am but your flustered state gives me confidence." He says, wanting to kiss the small pout from your face.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You asked, finally processing his words.

He liked you?? He still likes you?!

"I couldn't at the time, you were bestfriends with Felix, I didn't want the dynamic to shift plus there was a high possibility you liked any of the other 7 dudes in the group." He finishes scratching the back of his neck, looking down ears going red.

"And you?"

"Oh, I-I just, I didn't think someone like you would fancy someone like me." You hesitated gesturing to yourself, the insecurities finally creeping up.

Great way to ruin the moment brain.

"Someone like me?" He questioned, raising one of his eyebrows, tonguing his cheek as if he knew what was coming.

"Come on Min, look at you, your life, the people around you. I don't fit in, like a friend great but not as anything more. I know I sound dumb after we've both basically confessed but still..." You finish hesitantly.

"Y/n you'd fit right in. You fit amazing right now, that would just be a few more steps, it would work if we wanted it to." He says comforting you, his heart pacing at the nickname.

"Also I'm not your type, remember Han Sora, the girl you dated when I first met you guys, she was so pretty and petite, her clothes and shit. I admired her so much. She's your type, not me." You finish, eyes dropping to his chest to avoid his piercing gaze, that's all the argument you had.

"First of all, she was a publicity stunt and an obsessed trainee who was fired after I complained." He says, placing his right hand on your jaw, making you look him in the eyes. "Secondly, you're beautiful, kind, funny, smart, mature and well dressed. Being taller than the national average of a country you don't belong to is nothing to be insecure of, and let's be honest..." He lips tug up into a smile, hand falling to your hip from your jaw "...those thighs, are to die for." He says slowly with a wink, making you widen your eyes with shock and blushing like crazy.

"You wanna know who my type is?" He asks, searching for uncertainty in your eyes.

"Who?"

"You."

His lips came close to yours, an inch of a distance between them. He wanted you to make the final move, being careful so you'd have nothing to regret.

Your lips met, his hands on your hips, yours around his shoulders. Months of silently crushing on each other, finally being able to express it.

When he angled his face to deepen the kiss and your noses bumped, you separated, a giggle leaving you. He smiled softly, complete adoration in his eyes.

"Now what?" You asked, a warm feeling spreading through you.

"You wanna have ramen with me?" He asks, smirking, gesturing to the cups that have been sitting out for the past 15 minutes.

You scrunched your nose at the implication, your stomach saying other things "But like, I'm actually hungry." A small pout appearing on your face.

He quickly kissed it away taking your hand in his, walking into the living room to collect his things and yours, and now towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Our first date, the convenience store across the street. Great ramen!" He winks at you before pulling you closer into his chest, smiling wide at you, you couldn't help but reciprocate.

....

Texting; ( Y/n, Felix )

Felix: Did you leave already?

Felix: Where's Minho? Is he dropping you off?

Felix: He is, isn't he? 😏

Felix: Told you he had a thing for you.

Felix: Oh yeah ignore Lix when he's right, sure sure, I get it.

....

Texting; ( Minho, Felix )

Felix: Don't fbck this up.

Minho: Never Lix, never.

.

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (the gift)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Paring: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: daenys

- Next part: resurgence

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Two days had passed since the forces of House Atreides and House Targaryen had established their temporary base together on Arctis. The bitter cold still clung to the landscape, but the combined forces had made steady progress in securing the area from the Harkonnens. Targaryen banners now flew alongside the Atreides hawk, marking a temporary alliance born of necessity rather than trust.

Inside the main command tent, Aelor Targaryen, Duke Leto Atreides, and Duncan Idaho stood over a holographic map of the underground hatchery—the ancient structure that had become the focal point of the Harkonnen presence. Aelor’s expression was resolute as he traced the coordinates with his finger, his voice calm but insistent.

“We should commence an orbital strike on the underground hatchery,” Aelor proposed, his tone leaving little room for argument. “Once it’s destroyed, the Harkonnens will have no reason to stay on this planet.”

Duncan, standing to Leto’s right, crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “It’s odd,” he said, his voice laced with suspicion. “The Harkonnens have already lost most of their ground here. Their operation is compromised, and they’re outnumbered. So why are they still here, insisting on these ground skirmishes?”

Leto nodded thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the map. “There must be something else they’re after,” he agreed. “With the Harkonnens, there always is.”

Aelor’s violet eyes flickered as he looked between Duncan and Leto. “Regardless of their plans,” he said firmly, “the hatchery is the key to their presence here. If we destroy it, we leave them with nothing. They’ll be forced to withdraw.”

Leto considered Aelor’s words carefully, his mind turning over the possibilities. “An orbital strike is a risky move,” he said slowly. “But it might be our best option to force them off this world for good.”

As the council continued their discussion, you stood nearby, observing from the edges of the room. The tension between the two Houses was felt, but for now, their common enemy kept them aligned. Not far from where you stood, Gurney Halleck sat on a low bench, adjusting the strings on his baliset. His fingers moved deftly over the instrument as he listened to the council’s debate, though his eyes occasionally flicked toward you.

You caught his gaze after a moment, and he gave a small nod in your direction before speaking, his voice casual but curious. “So, lass,” Gurney said, not looking up from his baliset, “how does someone like you get caught up in a mess like this?”

You smiled faintly at the question, though there was no amusement in it. “I’ve been in far worse situations than this,” you replied, your tone steady. “This is just another battle.”

Gurney raised an eyebrow, his hands still moving over the strings. “Is that so? You’ve certainly got the fire in you, but I can’t help but wonder how a lone Targaryen ended up giving Harkonnens so much trouble.”

You tilted your head slightly, considering your response. “We don’t have instruments like this on Albiron,” you said, gesturing to the baliset. “But my father often asks me to sing during our celebratory events.”

Gurney’s gaze softened at your words, his thoughts clearly drifting elsewhere. His expression turned somber, and for a moment, he seemed lost in memory. “My sister used to sing,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. “She had a voice that could silence a room.”

There was a brief silence between you, an unspoken understanding passing through the cold air. In that moment, you saw something of Gurney’s grief, his memories of loss that mirrored your own.

Just then, the council’s discussion came to an end, and Aelor approached you, his posture relaxed but purposeful. “We’re moving forward,” he said, his voice resolute. “Prepare yourself. We’ll commence the final strike against the Harkonnens soon. Once the hatchery is destroyed, we’ll leave this planet.”

You nodded, your hand resting instinctively on the hilt of your sword. The time for words had passed. Now, the battle would decide the future.

As you turned to leave, Gurney’s voice called after you, gentle but firm. “Keep your guard up, lass. And maybe after all this is done, you’ll give us a song.”

You smiled slightly, but your thoughts were already on the coming battle. 

As the command room slowly cleared, Leto Atreides stood quietly, watching as the Targaryen siblings, Aelor and you, left together, heading off to prepare for the final strike. The storm outside seemed to have found its echo within the Duke's mind. Aelor’s proposal had merit—destroying the underground hatchery could force the Harkonnens to abandon the planet—but it wasn’t just the military strategy that weighed on Leto now. It was the woman, Daenys Targaryen, you, who had caught his attention in more ways than one.

Leto’s gaze lingered on the spot where you had just been standing, the memory of your composed yet fiery demeanor still fresh in his mind. It wasn’t often that someone from another House—especially one with such a complex history—captivated him in such a way. There was something about your presence, something he couldn’t quite place, but it gnawed at him nonetheless.

Turning to face Gurney Halleck, who was still adjusting the strings of his baliset, Leto allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. “I heard from Duncan that Daenys gave you quite the chase.”

Gurney looked up from his instrument, a wry smile playing on his lips as he met the Duke’s gaze. “Aye, my Lord. The lass is more capable than she appears. Gave me the slip more than once before I caught up to her.”

Duncan Idaho, still seated at the console across the room, reviewing the latest reports on the Harkonnens’ movements, chimed in without looking up. “She’s not just capable. She’s fast, strategic—trained, no doubt. And there’s something about the way she moves… like someone who’s lived their entire life preparing for moments like these.”

Leto raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued further by Duncan’s assessment. It was one thing for Gurney to acknowledge your abilities—Gurney was seasoned, but also sentimental. Duncan, however, was practical, and his judgments carried weight.

“She’s more than just a survivor, then,” Leto said, his voice contemplative.

Duncan finally looked up from the reports, his eyes steady as they met the Duke’s. “Much more. She’s a Targaryen through and through. I’ve seen plenty of soldiers—both natural fighters and those trained from birth—and Daenys? She’s got the instincts of both.”

Gurney nodded in agreement, his expression turning more thoughtful. “Aye, my Lord. There’s more to her than what we’ve seen on the surface. I didn’t know what to make of her at first, but after that chase and seeing her in action, I’d wager she’s been through more than we can imagine.”

Leto paced slowly, his mind working through the layers of implications. House Targaryen’s sudden return, the alliance of necessity between them and the Atreides, the Harkonnen threat—all of it pointed to a shifting balance of power. But Daenys added an entirely new dimension to it. She wasn’t just a pawn in the game, but a player in her own right. And now, she and her brother had drawn the Atreides into something far larger than they could have anticipated.

As Leto’s thoughts continued to turn, he paused by the table where the holographic map still glowed faintly. “Regardless,” he said, his voice more resolute now, “we have a mission to complete here. The Harkonnens won’t let this planet go without a fight, but once the hatchery is destroyed, they’ll have no choice.”

Gurney’s eyes followed the Duke’s movements, his tone more cautious. “And after, my Lord?”

Leto looked up, his gaze steady as he met Gurney’s eyes. “After we return to Caladan, we’ll be facing more than just the fallout from this battle. The political implications of our encounter with the Targaryens will be enormous. It will shake the very foundations of House Atreides.”

Duncan nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “The Imperium, the Emperor, the Bene Gesserit—they’ll all take notice once they learn that the Targaryens are not only alive but allied with us, however temporary that alliance may be.”

Leto sighed softly, knowing the weight of what was to come. “And that’s what concerns me most. We’ve just become part of something far bigger than a fight for control of a frozen world. If the Emperor catches wind of this, if the Harkonnens spin the narrative in their favor… House Atreides will be caught in the storm.”

Gurney, ever loyal and steadfast, leaned forward slightly. “We’ll face whatever comes, my Lord. House Atreides has survived worse.”

Leto allowed a small smile, though the weight of his thoughts was still evident. “Yes, Gurney. We have. And we will again. But this time, it feels different.”

He cast one final glance toward the door where the Targaryens had left, his mind already turning toward the future. They had a mission to finish here, but the real storm—the political storm—was waiting for them back on Caladan.

And Leto knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same after this.

The cold air of Arctis was heavy with anticipation as Leto Atreides, Duncan Idaho, and Gurney Halleck stepped outside the command tent. All around them, the soldiers of both House Atreides and House Targaryen moved swiftly, making final preparations for the upcoming strike. The combined forces had reached a tenuous but effective alliance, and now the time had come to push forward and bring an end to the Harkonnen presence on this planet.

Leto’s sharp eyes scanned the flurry of activity, his mind already calculating the next steps. His soldiers, disciplined and ready, were preparing to launch their assault on the Harkonnen defenses above the underground hatchery. The Targaryens would lead the initial charge, breaking through the Harkonnen lines, and once the Atreides troops disabled the jamming equipment, they would evacuate, leaving the Targaryen starship to fire on the exposed target from orbit.

Hawat joined Leto at his side, his expression as always calm but observant. “Everything is proceeding as planned, my Lord,” Hawat said quietly, his eyes flicking over the battlefield preparations.

Leto nodded, his voice steady. “The Atreides troops will rush in to disable the Harkonnen jamming equipment above the hatchery once the Targaryens break through their defenses. As soon as that signal is disabled, we’re pulling out. The Targaryen starship will fire from orbit on a clear target.”

Duncan and Gurney, standing nearby, exchanged quick glances before turning to Leto.

“We’ll get it done, my Lord,” Duncan said firmly. “We’ll make sure the Harkonnens don’t get another chance.”

Gurney’s grizzled face was set in determination as he tightened the strap on his rifle. “We’ll push through, one way or another.”

Leto offered them both a nod of confidence. “Good. Get to your men. We don’t have much time.”

With that, Duncan and Gurney turned and rushed off to join their respective forces, leaving Leto and Hawat standing among the flurry of soldiers preparing for the battle ahead.

As the activity around them intensified, Leto’s eyes were drawn to a different scene just across the field. Daenys Targaryen, along with two of her people, was crouched in front of a Targaryen Ornithopter, working on a device that was unfamiliar to him. The Ornithopter itself stood ready for launch, its sleek, dragon-like form glistening in the pale light of the storm. Leto’s curiosity piqued as he watched the Targaryen woman, her focus sharp as she adjusted the device in front of her.

Without a word, Leto began walking toward her, his steps purposeful. Hawat, noticing the shift in the Duke’s attention, gave him a curious glance but said nothing, following him in silence.

As you worked on the device, making the final adjustments, you noticed movement from the corner of your eye. Looking up, you saw Duke Leto approaching, his expression one of curiosity. You stood, wiping the snow from your gloves, and offered him a respectful nod.

“Duke Leto,” you greeted him, your voice even despite the cold. “What brings you here?”

Leto’s gaze shifted from the device in front of you to your face, then back to the intricate piece of technology. “What are you working on?”

You gave him a small smile, gesturing to the device. “This is something that will help your men disable the jamming signal faster. Once we break through the Harkonnen defenses, I’ll leave it for your soldiers to use. It should save time.”

Leto’s gaze lingered on the device for a moment, impressed by your initiative. His eyes then flicked to the Ornithopter standing behind you, its design so different from the machines he was used to. It was sleek, elegant, and undeniably alien in its construction.

Sensing his interest, you tilted your head slightly, amusement flashing in your eyes. “Curious about our Ornithopters, Duke?”

Leto’s gaze returned to yours, surprised by your question. “I am,” he admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like them. I’d be interested to see how they fly.”

Your smile widened, a flicker of excitement in your eyes. “Would you like to join me, Duke Leto?”

He hesitated for a brief second, caught off guard by the offer. But the thought of experiencing one of your people’s advanced machines firsthand was too intriguing to pass up. “I would,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I’ve always been fascinated by technology. It would be a welcome distraction before the battle.”

You nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Then we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

Hawat, standing just a few paces behind, watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow. He was too perceptive not to notice the small, almost hidden smile on Leto’s face, a smile that revealed a spark of excitement—something that rarely showed itself in the typically composed Duke. Hawat allowed himself a brief moment of amusement at his lord’s expense.

“You seem eager, my Lord,” Hawat said quietly, his tone neutral but with an edge of teasing.

Leto shot him a quick glance, his expression composed again but not without a hint of warmth. “Perhaps I am, Thufir. It’s not every day one gets to fly in something so… unique.”

With a final glance at the soldiers preparing for battle, Leto stepped forward toward the waiting Ornithopter, his curiosity and anticipation momentarily eclipsing the weight of the coming conflict.

As you finished adjusting the device, you nodded to your fellow Targaryen soldiers, signaling them to secure the equipment for transport. Then, without another word, you climbed into the Ornithopter’s cockpit, turning back to see Leto and Hawat following closely behind.

As the Duke settled into the co-pilot’s seat beside you, you glanced at him, a glint of challenge in your eyes. “Hold on tight, Duke. Our Ornithopters aren’t quite like anything you’ve flown before.”

Leto chuckled softly, his hands hovering over the holographic controls that shifted to standard Galach symbols aromatically as he prepared for takeoff. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The Targaryen Ornithopter lifted gracefully into the icy skies of Arctis, its sleek, dragon-like wings humming softly as they cut through the stormy air. Despite its size—large enough for both a co-pilot and a passenger—the craft moved with an effortless precision that left Duke Leto Atreides momentarily awestruck. He settled into the co-pilot’s seat beside you, a smile playing on his lips as he examined the holographic interface that floated before him.

“This flies… beautifully,” Leto murmured, his hands hovering over the controls, though he knew better than to interfere with your navigation. The neural feedback system was unlike anything he had ever experienced in Atreides technology. Every movement of the Ornithopter felt intuitive, as though it were responding to his thoughts as much as your commands. The interior, like the exterior, was silent, a stark contrast to the noisier, more mechanical machines he was used to.

He couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship, his eyes tracing the sleek lines of the console and the way the control surfaces shimmered with a soft, amber glow. “There’s almost no sound at all.”

From your seat, you glanced at Leto and caught his expression, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Our Drakaopters, as we call them, are powered by drakaon crystals,” you explained, your tone steady as you focused on the controls. “Just like the rest of our technology. The crystals provide nearly silent propulsion and ensure our ships are undetectable by conventional sensors.”

Leto raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Behind you, Thufir Hawat sat in silence, his sharp eyes observing everything. His analytical mind was cataloging every detail, from the neural feedback system to the seamless way the other Targaryen Ornithopters—smaller, more nimble craft—flanked them as they ascended higher. The Targaryen technology was light years ahead of what the Imperium used, and that knowledge alone weighed heavily in Hawat’s calculations.

As the Ornithopter climbed into the sky, the flickering light of explosions in the distance caught your eye. You glanced at the holographic map in front of you and your expression hardened.

“Harkonnen troops are approaching,” you said, your voice suddenly sharper as you adjusted the controls. The Ornithopter’s plasma cannons began to warm up, their energy readings visible on the interface before you.

Leto’s gaze shifted to the horizon, where he saw the black dots of Harkonnen ornithopters growing larger, rapidly approaching from the east. At the same time, the ground forces below were beginning to clash—the Atreides and Targaryen troops advancing toward the Harkonnen base while their enemies tried to dig in and defend the hatchery.

You activated the plasma cannons, the hum of energy filling the cabin as the weapons powered up. The shields surrounding the Ornithopter shimmered momentarily, absorbing and dispersing the energy of the oncoming fire from the Harkonnen forces.

“Brace yourself,” you warned, your tone cool and focused as you maneuvered the Ornithopter into position. The smaller Targaryen craft flanking you began to engage the enemy, plasma bolts lighting up the stormy sky as they tore through the incoming Harkonnen ornithopters.

Leto watched in awe as the energy shields absorbed the blasts with ease, shimmering faintly as they dissipated the impact. He had never seen such seamless energy defense systems in action before, and it left him with a newfound respect for Targaryen engineering.

Just then, another squadron of Harkonnen ornithopters appeared on the horizon, larger and more heavily armed. Leto's eyes narrowed as he noted their formation. “Another squadron, coming in fast.”

You nodded, adjusting the controls to bring the Drakaopter into a more aggressive stance. The smaller Targaryen Ornithopters around you quickly peeled off to intercept the new threat, their plasma cannons firing in synchronized bursts that tore through the Harkonnen forces.

“We’ll punch through,” you said, your voice calm despite the chaos around you. With a quick motion, you locked onto the ground-based anti-air cannons positioned near the Harkonnen base and fired the crystal-tipped missiles. They streaked through the air, glowing a faint gold as they zeroed in on their targets.

The ground cannons exploded in a brilliant flash of light, the crystal-tipped warheads shattering the hardened emplacements with ease. Leto watched as the Harkonnen anti-air defenses crumbled, leaving the base exposed.

“Ion disruptors engaged,” you continued, your hands deftly working the controls as the Drakaopter’s disruptors activated. A wave of yellow energy rippled from the ship, crashing into the Harkonnen systems below. Leto watched as the disruptors caused their further defenses to sputter and fail, disabling their communications and rendering their systems vulnerable.

Leto was beyond impressed now. He had seen many battles, but never had he witnessed technology like this in action. “Your technology,” Leto said, his voice full of awe. “It’s beyond anything we’ve ever encountered.”

You didn’t look at him, your focus still on the task at hand. “We’ve had centuries to perfect it. And it’s the only reason we’ve survived this long in exile.”

Leto nodded thoughtfully, his admiration clear. But there was no time to dwell on the implications. The battle was far from over.

As you guided the Drakaopter toward the Harkonnen base, you glanced at the holographic display, noting the positions of the Atreides ground troops. “Once your men break through, I’ll land,” you told Leto. “We’ll take out the jamming signal and evacuate the planet.”

Leto gave a nod of agreement, his gaze locked on the battlefield below. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Behind you, Hawat observed quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had seen the Duke’s enthusiasm for battle before, but there was something different about this. Perhaps it was the technology, or perhaps it was the presence of Daenys herself, but either way, Hawat could see that Leto was more engaged than usual. It amused the Mentat to see the Duke so captivated.

“Shall we?” you asked, glancing at Leto with a hint of challenge in your voice.

Leto returned your gaze, a faint smile crossing his lips. “Lead the way.”

With that, you accelerated toward the Harkonnen base, ready to finish what had been started. The final push had begun.

The Atreides forces surged forward, their precision and discipline cutting through the Harkonnen lines like a blade. The chaotic din of battle rumbled beneath the clouds of Arctis, plasma bolts lighting up the gray sky. The sound of explosions echoed through the air as Harkonnen defenses crumbled one by one, and now, with their anti-aircraft cannons destroyed and the Atreides troops pressing hard, victory seemed imminent.

In the distance, your Targaryen Drakaopter descended, landing gracefully in the midst of the controlled chaos. The wings folded in with a mechanical hum, the sleek craft setting down without a sound. As the hatch opened, Duke Leto Atreides, Thufir Hawat, and you exited, your eyes immediately scanning the battlefield.

Leto’s gaze hardened as he took in the scene. His men were doing well, but they didn’t have much time. The Harkonnens would regroup, and they needed to disable the jamming signal before reinforcements arrived. His mind was already calculating their next move, but before he could speak, Sergeant Kellor came rushing over, his face tense but determined.

“We’ve secured the perimeter,” Kellor said, his voice sharp as he motioned to the area ahead. “But we’ve only got a short window to disable the jamming signal before the Harkonnens can regroup. We need to move fast.”

You stepped forward, your expression calm but focused. “That’s enough time if you use this device properly.” You handed the small but intricate piece of technology to Kellor, who took it with a careful grip. His eyes flicked over the device, trying to understand its function as you quickly explained.

“It’s simple,” you said, your voice clear despite the chaos around you. “This will interface directly with the Harkonnen signal disruptors. Once you get to the jamming site, activate it by pressing here.” You pointed to a small, glowing node on the device. “It’ll overload their system and disable the signal in seconds. But you have to be precise—don’t give them time to recover.”

Kellor nodded, his expression determined. “Understood.”

More Atreides soldiers joined, forming a protective perimeter around the small group as Leto, Hawat, and you prepared for the final push. Leto turned to Kellor, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “We’ll give you as much time as you need, Sergeant. But the moment the signal is down, we retreat. The Targaryen ship is ready for the orbital strike.”

Kellor saluted before turning to his men, issuing orders with quick efficiency. The group of Atreides soldiers moved out, heading toward the jamming site with the Targaryen device in hand. They disappeared into the rocky terrain, their silhouettes blending into the storm.

You stood beside Leto, your gaze following Kellor’s team as they advanced. “I’ll help with the defense,” you said, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. “Once the jamming is down, we start the retreat immediately.”

Leto glanced at you, his face a mixture of admiration and resolve. “Agreed. But we have to make sure Kellor’s team gets through. If the Harkonnens stop them, we lose our window.”

You nodded, drawing your sword with a swift, practiced motion. The familiar weight of the Valyrian steel in your hand felt steady, grounding you in the midst of the battle. Around you, the Atreides forces prepared for the next wave of Harkonnen resistance.

Hawat, ever vigilant, stepped forward. “We’ll need to hold the Harkonnen forces here until Kellor can disable the jamming. Once the signal is down, we retreat. The orbital strike will be swift, and we can’t risk being caught in it.”

Leto turned to his men, his voice carrying over the noise of battle. “Hold the line! We give Kellor and his team as much time as they need. Once the jamming signal is down, fall back to the transports.”

The Atreides soldiers responded immediately, their formations tightening as they prepared for the final push. Plasma fire rained down from the sky as the Harkonnens sent in reinforcements, desperate to hold their ground, but the combined forces of House Atreides and House Targaryen were relentless.

You took your place beside the Atreides soldiers, your sword at the ready. The Harkonnens advanced, but you met them with the ferocity of a dragon, cutting through their ranks with swift, precise strikes. The Atreides forces fought with discipline and determination, but your presence on the battlefield was something else—an unmistakable force that turned the tide.

Leto, armed and resolute, fought alongside his men, his every strike calculated and efficient. His eyes flicked to the horizon, watching for any sign of Kellor’s team. Time was running out.

Suddenly, a bright flash illuminated the sky, and the distant hum of energy signaled that Kellor’s team had succeeded. The Harkonnen jamming signal went dark, their defenses crumbling as the disruption ended. The time had come.

“The signal’s down!” Hawat shouted, his voice rising above the chaos. “We need to move—now!”

Leto turned, his voice commanding. “Fall back! To the transports!”

The Atreides forces began to retreat, moving quickly but with precision as they made their way to the transports. You turned to follow, your sword still in hand, as Leto gestured for you to keep close.

The battle was won, but the clock was ticking. Above, the Targaryen starship loomed, its weapons primed for the orbital strike. The Harkonnens would soon face the full fury of dragonfire from the stars.

You met Leto’s gaze briefly, a shared understanding passing between you. “We don’t have much time,” you said, your voice steady.

“No,” Leto replied, his expression resolute. “But we’ll make it.”

Together, you and the Duke of Atreides moved toward the transports, the sound of the orbital strike looming in the distance as the final chapter of the battle began.

As the transport hurtled across the icy landscape of Arctis, Aelor Targaryen's voice came through the comms, his tone calm but firm. "The orbital strike is in progress. All forces, stay clear of the target zone. We'll be hitting the Harkonnen base shortly."

The announcement was met with silence, save for the occasional murmurs of soldiers securing their weapons and gear. You sat near the front of the transport, your sword still in hand, resting against your knee. Leto sat beside you, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon, while Thufir Hawat stood nearby, scanning tactical readouts.

Suddenly, a blinding amber light filled the transport, casting everything in a harsh, surreal glow. The grand rumble that followed shook the very ground beneath the transport, causing it to jolt violently. The entire cabin rocked as the orbital strike hit its target, the shockwaves from the impact reaching even this far.

In the chaos, soldiers braced themselves against the walls and seats, gripping whatever they could to avoid being thrown around by the tremors. You felt the transport lurch beneath your feet, and your balance wavered as the violent shake threw you forward.

Before you could fall, Leto acted quickly, reaching out to steady you. His strong hands gripped your arm, pulling you back against the seat and holding you upright as the transport continued to shake. Around you, the Atreides soldiers did the same, steadying themselves as the rumbling subsided.

"Thank you," you said, your voice calm despite the intensity of the moment. You met Leto’s gaze, a flicker of appreciation in your eyes as you settled back into your seat.

Leto gave a small nod, releasing his grip on your arm but keeping his attention on the aftermath of the strike. "We’re not through just yet," he said, his voice steady but carrying a note of caution. The amber light from the blast still lingered in the distance, fading slowly as the transport pushed forward.

You glanced out the viewport, watching as the fiery remnants of the orbital strike’s devastation glowed on the horizon. The Harkonnen base had been obliterated, reduced to nothing more than rubble and smoke. The dragons of House Targaryen had, once again, left their mark on the battlefield.

After a moment of silence, you turned back to Leto, your expression shifting as the reality of the situation sank in. "My ride awaits," you said, your voice tinged with a sense of finality. "At specific coordinates. Once we reach them, we part ways."

Leto studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if weighing the gravity of your words. "And you’re sure this is the end of our path together, at least for now?" There was something in his tone, a subtle note of regret, though it was buried beneath his usual calm exterior.

You nodded, your gaze steady. "For now, yes. Our paths will diverge. The strike was successful, and we’ve achieved what we set out to do. But House Targaryen still has its own battles to fight, and we have a world to return to."

Leto considered this, his eyes flicking briefly to the horizon before returning to you. "Your House… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. And yet, there’s something familiar in the way we fight—something shared in our desire for survival."

You gave a small, thoughtful smile. "Perhaps there’s more in common between us than we realize, Duke Leto."

The two of you fell into a brief silence, the rumble of the transport continuing beneath your feet. Around you, the Atreides soldiers were focused on their tasks, but the weight of the moment hung between you and Leto. The alliance between your Houses had been forged in the fire of battle, but as you both knew, such alliances were rarely permanent.

"Where will you go from here?" Leto asked, his voice softer now, as though the question carried more meaning than just the practical.

You turned to meet his gaze again, your violet eyes calm but resolute. "Back to Albiron, for now. But the galaxy is a vast place, Duke. And I have a feeling our paths may cross again."

Leto smiled faintly, a knowing look in his eyes. "I’ll look forward to that day."

The transport began to slow as it neared the designated coordinates, the vibrations beneath your feet softening as it approached the drop point. You stood, sheathing your sword with a practiced motion, and glanced once more at Leto before heading toward the exit.

Hawat, ever observant, watched the exchange with quiet curiosity. As you prepared to leave, he stepped closer to Leto, his expression unreadable but perhaps tinged with amusement. "You seem particularly interested in the Targaryens, my Lord."

Leto didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still on you as you moved toward the door. After a beat, he glanced at Hawat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How could I not be, Thufir? They’re more than just an ally—they’re a mystery we’ve only just begun to unravel."

Hawat chuckled softly, his gaze flicking between you and Leto. "A mystery indeed."

As the transport came to a halt, you stepped outside, the cold air of Arctis biting at your skin once more. In the distance, your Targaryen transport awaited, sleek and silent like a shadow on the horizon.

You turned back one last time, meeting Leto’s gaze from the doorway of the Atreides transport. For a brief moment, there was an unspoken understanding between you—a shared respect, perhaps even a shared future, though what that future would hold remained uncertain.

And with that, you moved forward, heading toward your ship and the path that awaited you beyond the frozen world of Arctis.

The Atreides spaceship hummed quietly as it ascended from the frozen surface of Arctis, carrying Duke Leto, Thufir Hawat, Duncan Idaho, and Gurney Halleck safely back toward the stars. The planet below slowly disappeared from view, the battle now a distant memory as the crew settled into the familiar routine of post-mission debriefing.

But something was different this time. The atmosphere on the ship felt heavier, as though the weight of what had just transpired still lingered in the air. House Atreides had won a decisive victory against the Harkonnens, but it was their encounter with House Targaryen that now dominated their thoughts.

As the Atreides ship entered orbit, the massive Targaryen spaceship came into full view. Its sleek, obsidian-hued hull reflected the faint light of the distant stars, its design elegant and mysterious. The ship was larger than anything Leto had seen, far more advanced than even the most powerful vessels in the Imperium’s fleet. It was a sight that left an indelible mark, one that would be difficult to forget.

The comms system crackled to life, and Aelor Targaryen's voice came through, calm and composed. "Duke Leto, this is Aelor Targaryen. On behalf of my House, I thank you for your assistance. Together, we’ve defeated the Harkonnens here, but our paths must now part."

Leto stood at the command console, his eyes fixed on the Targaryen ship as he listened to Aelor’s words. "It was a hard-fought battle," Leto replied, his voice steady. "But I believe we both gained something from this alliance."

There was a brief pause on the comms, and then another voice came through—one that made Leto’s heart skip for just a moment.

"Duke Leto," you said, your voice softer but still clear through the comms. "I wish to thank you personally. Your men fought bravely, and for that, House Targaryen is in your debt."

Leto’s gaze flicked briefly to Hawat, who watched the exchange with quiet curiosity. The Duke’s expression softened slightly as he heard your voice, the memory of your parting still fresh in his mind.

Before he could respond, you added, "I’ve left a small gift of goodwill with Gurney. Consider it a token of our alliance—and a reminder of our shared victory."

Leto turned slowly, his brow furrowing in mild confusion as he looked at Gurney, who stood just behind him. Gurney smiled knowingly, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small, carefully wrapped sachel. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he handed it to the Duke.

"I believe this is what she was referring to, my Lord," Gurney said, his voice low and filled with a certain fondness.

Leto took the sachel, his fingers brushing over the soft material. Slowly, he unwrapped it, revealing the contents within. His breath caught as he lifted out the object that lay inside: a dragon egg, petrified and turned to stone. The intricate markings on the surface glistened faintly in the ship’s artificial light, and despite its stony exterior, Leto could feel the weight of history and power in his hands.

The room fell silent as the Atreides crew gathered around, their eyes fixed on the stone egg. Even Hawat, ever the pragmatist, seemed momentarily taken aback by the sight. The dragon egg was more than just a symbol—it was a piece of House Targaryen’s legacy, a relic of a time when dragons ruled the skies.

Leto stared at the egg for a long moment, his mind racing with thoughts of what it represented. The Targaryens were more than an ancient, forgotten House—they were alive, powerful, and still connected to the legacy of their dragons.

Just then, a bright flash of amber light illuminated the viewport, and Leto looked up just in time to see the Targaryen ship vanish from view. It was gone in an instant, leaving behind nothing but the cold, empty void of space.

The crew stood in stunned silence, watching as the last traces of the Targaryen ship disappeared from their scanners. Leto, still holding the dragon egg, felt a quiet sense of loss. The alliance had been brief, but it had left a profound impact on him and his House.

He whispered softly to himself, his voice barely audible over the hum of the ship. "Goodbye, Daenys."

His fingers tightened around the egg, feeling the smooth, ancient surface beneath his touch. The weight of the stone was a reminder not only of the Targaryens’ power but of the connection that had been forged in the heat of battle. A connection that, despite their parting, felt far from over.

Hawat, ever watchful, stepped forward, his eyes studying the Duke’s expression with quiet understanding. "A gift, indeed," he said, his voice low.

Leto nodded, still holding the egg as he turned back to the viewport. "A gift," he repeated, though he knew it was much more than that.

The soft hum of the Atreides starship filled the silence of Duke Leto’s quarters as the vessel made its steady course back to Caladan. The quiet was almost soothing, but the Duke’s mind was far from calm. He sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on the petrified dragon egg resting in front of him. The smooth, stone surface seemed to shimmer faintly in the low light, as though it held the weight of centuries within its hardened shell.

Leto’s thoughts were miles away, lost in the memory of his brief encounter with Daenys Targaryen and the strange, powerful House she represented. The Targaryens were more than a legend—they were real, and they were dangerous in ways the Imperium could hardly comprehend. Yet, there had been something else about them, something that left Leto both intrigued and unsettled.

The door to his quarters slid open with a quiet hiss, and Thufir Hawat stepped inside, his sharp eyes immediately assessing the Duke’s posture. Leto didn’t stir, his attention still fixed on the dragon egg, though his expression was unreadable.

Hawat cleared his throat lightly before speaking, careful not to break the Duke’s deep concentration too suddenly. "My Lord," he began, his voice measured, "we should consider formulating a response for when the Emperor’s inquiry reaches us. The events on Arctis will no doubt draw attention."

Leto’s eyes remained on the egg, his fingers brushing lightly over its surface as he answered absently, his voice distant. "Yes, Thufir, I know."

But Hawat could tell from Leto’s tone that the Duke’s mind was elsewhere. His thoughts were still with the Targaryens, perhaps more with Daenys herself. There was a flicker of something in Leto’s gaze, something Hawat rarely saw—an almost wistful contemplation.

Hawat stepped closer, his analytical mind working through the implications of what they had just experienced. "Young Paul will no doubt be intrigued by this gift," Hawat remarked carefully, his eyes on the dragon egg as well. "Our new… friends have certainly left us with much to consider."

Leto’s lips twitched slightly, his gaze softening as he thought of his son. "Yes, Paul will be fascinated." His voice was quiet, and there was a warmth there when he spoke of his son. "But Jessica will be… less than pleased, I imagine."

Hawat’s brow furrowed in slight surprise, and he turned his full attention to the Duke. "You don’t intend to tell her?"

Leto glanced at Hawat for the first time since he’d entered, his expression more focused now but still guarded. "If there are no inquiries from the Emperor, then there’s no reason to speak of this to anyone. Not even to Lady Jessica."

Hawat’s surprise deepened. The Duke had always been relatively transparent with Jessica, despite her ties to the Bene Gesserit. This, however, was different. It took the Mentat only a moment to realize why Leto would be cautious in this matter. "Ah," Hawat murmured, understanding dawning. "You wish to avoid the involvement of the Sisterhood. They would take a keen interest in such an encounter."

Leto’s face hardened slightly as he nodded. "Precisely. The Bene Gesserit would insert themselves quickly, and I’d rather avoid that. The Targaryens are… unpredictable. There’s no telling how they would react to Bene Gesserit involvement. For now, this stays between us. If the Emperor or the Landsraad does not ask questions, we will let this fade into obscurity."

Hawat nodded slowly, his sharp mind already calculating the risks. "And what of the Harkonnens? Surely they won’t reveal their plans to the Emperor. It would expose their failure and their hidden operations on Arctis."

Leto allowed himself a small, tight smile. "Exactly. They’ll have no interest in informing the Emperor. We’ll report the events on Arctis as nothing more than an ordinary skirmish between our Houses. Routine border conflicts. Nothing more."

Hawat nodded in agreement, his mind already cataloging the steps needed to manage the situation. Keeping the Targaryen encounter under wraps would be a delicate task, but it was one the Mentat could handle.

Just as Hawat turned to leave, Leto’s voice stopped him.

“Thufir,” Leto said quietly, his gaze returning to the dragon egg. “What are the chances… of us encountering the Targaryens again?”

Hawat paused, considering the question carefully. The Targaryens were enigmatic, elusive, and far more powerful than even the Atreides had anticipated. Their sudden appearance had changed everything, and their departure left a trail of unanswered questions.

“I’d say, my Lord,” Hawat began, his voice measured, “that the chances are higher than we’d like to admit. They are not a people who vanish easily.”

Leto nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “No… they are not.”

With that, Hawat gave a slight bow and left the room, leaving Leto alone with his thoughts once more. The Duke stared at the egg, the weight of its significance heavy in his hands. He whispered softly, as if to himself—or perhaps to you.

“Until we meet again, Daenys.”

The thick, oppressive atmosphere of Giedi Prime clung to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen like the oily, polluted air that filled every corner of his home planet. As his shuttle descended toward the capital, the dark, industrial landscape stretched out beneath him, a grim reminder of his family’s iron-fisted rule over their wretched domain.

Feyd’s jaw tightened as he gazed out the viewport, knowing that this return would be far from triumphant. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen had already received news of the failure on Arctis—of the defeat at the hands of the Atreides and, worse, the reveal of the Targaryens. His uncle’s rage would be visible, and Feyd knew he would be the primary target of that fury.

Yet, there was something else—something Feyd clung to. They had achieved a sliver of what they were after. The Targaryens had revealed themselves, drawn out from the shadows of obscurity. The Baron may not be pleased with the overall outcome, but Feyd believed that this failure could still be turned into something useful.

As the shuttle touched down in the landing bay of the Harkonnen stronghold, Feyd took a deep breath, straightened his uniform, and prepared himself for what was to come. The heavy doors hissed open, and he stepped out onto the cold metal floor, his steps echoing down the corridor as he made his way to the Baron’s chambers.

The familiar scent of grease and decay filled the air as he approached the grand doors of his uncle’s throne room. The walls of the fortress were adorned with dark tapestries depicting the conquests and cruelties of House Harkonnen, reminders of the family’s ruthless ambition.

Inside the chamber, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen sat on his hovering chair, his corpulent form draped in luxurious, dark robes. His pale, bloated face was twisted into a sneer, and his small, pig-like eyes flickered with barely contained rage. Standing beside him, the ever-brutal Glossu Rabban, Feyd’s brutish brother, looked on with a mixture of amusement and impatience.

Feyd stepped forward, his chin held high despite the weight of his failure. He knew better than to show weakness in front of the Baron.

"Uncle," Feyd greeted, his voice calm but respectful, bowing slightly as he addressed the Baron.

The Baron’s sneer deepened, and his eyes gleamed with malice as he leaned forward in his chair. "So, my dear nephew," he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You return to me a failure, do you not? After all, your mission on Arctis… did not go as planned."

Feyd met his uncle’s gaze without flinching, though he could feel the simmering anger in the air. "Yes, the Atreides interfered, and we were forced to retreat, but—"

"But?" the Baron hissed, his bloated fingers gripping the arms of his chair. "But? There is no ‘but,’ Feyd! You lost. You were humiliated. The Atreides and those damnable Targaryens bested you!"

Rabban chuckled darkly from his place beside the Baron, his thick arms crossed over his chest. "A failure is a failure, brother. There’s no excuse for that."

Feyd clenched his fists but held his composure. "We may have lost the battle, but we achieved something important," he said, his voice steady. "We drew the Targaryens out. They revealed themselves, showed their hand. That was the true goal, was it not?"

The Baron’s sneer faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considered Feyd’s words. He leaned back in his chair, his expression momentarily thoughtful. "Ah, yes. The Targaryens. The ancient dragons who were supposed to be long dead. And now… they return, do they?"

Feyd nodded. "Yes. They are more powerful than we anticipated, but they are no longer hidden. They’ve shown their faces, and that gives us an advantage. Now, we know what we’re dealing with."

The Baron’s face darkened again, though his rage had softened somewhat. "Perhaps. But make no mistake, Feyd—this failure is still yours. You did not eliminate the Atreides forces. You allowed them to gain the upper hand. You are fortunate that the Targaryens revealed themselves, or I would not be so lenient."

Rabban grunted in agreement, his brutish face twisted into a grin. "You’re lucky, brother. Very lucky."

Feyd ignored Rabban, his focus on the Baron. "I understand, Uncle. And I take full responsibility for the setback. But I believe we can use this to our advantage."

The Baron raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Go on."

Feyd stepped forward, his voice lowering slightly as he spoke. "Now that the Targaryens have shown themselves, we can manipulate the situation. The Imperium will take notice, especially if we… steer the narrative. House Atreides is already under suspicion by the Emperor. If we can make it seem as though they are allied with the Targaryens—an ancient, unknown threat—then the Emperor may act against them. We could use this to weaken both Houses."

The Baron’s eyes gleamed with interest, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of his chair. "Hmm. You may be right, Feyd. The Emperor is always wary of rising threats. And if he believes that the Atreides are conspiring with the Targaryens… it could work in our favor."

Rabban, ever the brute, looked confused for a moment but eventually nodded in agreement, understanding only the basic idea. "Sounds good. Let the Emperor deal with them."

Feyd allowed himself a small smile. "Exactly. We use the Targaryens’ return as a weapon. Let the Emperor and the Landsraad turn their gaze on the Atreides. And when they fall, House Harkonnen will be ready to take their place."

The Baron’s laughter filled the room, deep and malevolent. "Ah, Feyd. You may have stumbled, but you’ve shown some cunning after all. Very well. We will pursue this path, but make no mistake—you will not fail me again."

Feyd bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I won’t, Uncle."

The Baron’s laughter faded, and he waved his hand dismissively. "Go, then. Begin preparing the groundwork. We’ll let the Imperium know about our new friends, the Targaryens. But we will do so on our terms."

Feyd nodded once more, then turned and left the room, his thoughts already spinning with plans and schemes. He had failed on Arctis, yes, but the game was far from over. And the next time, he would make sure both the Atreides and the Targaryens paid the price.

As the heavy doors closed behind him, Feyd allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk. This was just the beginning.

...

The vast throne room of Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV was cold and silent, save for the soft echo of footsteps as Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam and her attendants led the Red Woman into the chamber. The priestess, dressed in tattered crimson robes, her flame-colored hair spilling over her shoulders, had been a mystery ever since her arrival on Arrakis. Now, despite all the efforts of the Bene Gesserit to break her will, she remained unresponsive to their usual methods of interrogation.

At the far end of the room, Shaddam sat on his gilded throne, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the Red Woman. Beside him, an array of documents and reports lay scattered across a marble table—conflicting accounts of the events on Arctis. One report from Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, claiming his forces had been ambushed by House Atreides, painted the Duke as an aggressor and the unexpected return of House Targaryen. The other report, from Duke Leto Atreides himself, painted a different picture—one of defense against Harkonnen treachery. Neither report fully aligned with the scarce updates from House Ix, who had remained curiously evasive since they had delivered that parchment with dragon seal to the Emperor.

Shaddam's frustration simmered beneath his composed exterior. This was not how things were supposed to go. And now, with the Targaryens resurfacing, the entire balance of power in the Imperium was at risk.

The Red Woman was brought before the Emperor, her face serene despite the chains that bound her wrists. Her eyes, fiery and unwavering, met Shaddam's without fear. Mother Helen stood just behind her, her presence a quiet threat.

Shaddam leaned forward, his voice low but firm. "You have defied the Bene Gesserit and refused to answer their questions. But you are in my presence now, priestess. And I will have answers. What are you doing on Arrakis, and what is your connection to the events on Arctis?"

The Red Woman's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "You align yourself with serpents, Emperor," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "The Bene Gesserit whisper in your ear, guiding your hand, but they do not serve you. They serve only themselves."

Mother Mohiam's face tightened in anger. "Careful, woman. You speak to the Emperor."

But the Red Woman did not flinch. Her eyes remained fixed on Shaddam, her gaze burning with an intensity that unsettled even the most seasoned court attendants. "The time of false kings and the Sisterhood's shadowy plots is ending," she said, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of fire. "The Lord of Light has sent me as a warning. You think yourselves rulers of this universe, but your reigns are but flickering candles in the darkness. The true prince will come, and he will burn away the corruption that festers in your Imperium."

Shaddam’s expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "I asked for answers, not riddles. What do you know of the Targaryens? Of their return?"

The Red Woman’s gaze flickered with something unreadable, her smile never fading. "The dragons are of the flame, born of the same fire that will cleanse this universe. You cannot stop what is coming. You will either bend before it, or you will be consumed."

Mother Mohiam stepped forward, her patience long gone. "Enough!" she barked, her voice filled with frustration. "You dare speak in riddles and prophecies while defying the Sisterhood? You are a servant of chaos, and you will answer for your insolence."

The Red Woman’s smile only widened, her eyes gleaming with something almost otherworldly. "The night is dark and full of terrors, Bene Gesserit. And you are blind to the true threat. Your whispers of control, your breeding programs, they are nothing in the face of what is coming."

Shaddam's eyes narrowed, his annoyance boiling over. "Enough of this. Remove her from my sight," he ordered, his voice cold. "She is no more than a madwoman spouting false prophecies."

Two guards stepped forward to take the Red Woman away, her chains rattling as they pulled her toward the exit. But as she was led from the room, her parting words echoed through the chamber like a curse. "The time of shadows is ending, Emperor. The Lord of Light sees all."

When the doors slammed shut behind her, silence filled the room once more. Shaddam stood from his throne, pacing slowly, his hands clasped behind his back.

Mother Mohiam approached, her voice cold and accusing. "You knew of the Targaryens' presence long before the Sisterhood did, didn't you? And you said nothing."

Shaddam stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face her, his expression hardening. He had known about the possibility of the Targaryens' survival for some time, though he had kept that information close, using it to his advantage when necessary. But now, with conflicting reports, he realized someone had leaked sensitive information.

"It seems," Shaddam said, his voice measured but edged with annoyance, "that certain reports have slipped through the cracks. There has been a leak, and the Targaryens' presence has become known before I intended."

Mother Mohiam’s eyes narrowed. "The Sisterhood could have acted had we known sooner. Now, the situation is slipping from our control. The Targaryens are a threat we cannot afford to ignore, and this… priestess has stirred up resistance on Arrakis. Her followers are growing, undermining our groundwork for the Kwisatz Haderach."

Shaddam’s patience wore thin as he rubbed his temples. "I have a plan to deal with the Targaryens, but it will take time. As for Arrakis, your order should focus on securing the situation. We have little time left before things spiral further out of control."

Mother Mohiam’s lips pressed into a thin line. "The groundwork is already in place, but the presence of these servants of the so-called Lord of Light is complicating matters. They are spreading dissent among the people, speaking of a prince that will come to save them."

"Then fix it," Shaddam snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. "The Bene Gesserit have manipulated rulers for centuries. Surely dealing with a few religious zealots is not beyond your capabilities."

Mother Mohiam’s expression darkened, but she said nothing further. The tension between them was palpable, but she knew that the Emperor’s patience had limits. With a final curt nod, she turned and left the chamber, her robes billowing behind her as she exited.

Shaddam stood alone in the vast room, his gaze once more settling on the conflicting reports before him. The Targaryens, the Atreides, the Harkonnens—all were playing dangerous games. But in the end, Shaddam intended to be the one holding the strings. Time was running out, and soon, all the pieces would need to fall into place.

But first, he had to deal with the shadows lurking within his own empire.

[runawaydr3amerao3]

Fic rec (SPN RPF, J3, Explicit): Golden Cut by @hellhoundsprey

As a J2 OTP reader almost exclusively when it comes to RPF, I could easily have missed this. If you're the same, I seriously recommend at least giving it a chance. It is filthy fucking good. The deliciously portrayed power dynamics between all three of them are captivating, as is the pre-existing relationship between Jeff and Jensen.

And I really can't stress just how fantastically fucking hot it all is. If it helps as an enticement, I feel a few tags missed on the AO3 post are: Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, ANAL HOOK FFS, Rimming, Come Play, Deep Throating, Shy Jensen Ackles, and... well, I could tag forever, but let's go with those as the mains on top of the already delicious tags on the fic.

Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Real Person Fic Pairings: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jensen Ackles, Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki Rating: Explicit/NC-17 Word Count: ~9000

Please enjoy if you check it out (please do yourself a favour and check it out), and don't forget to leave Kudos and comments for the author! 💖 They are treatos for wordsmiths.

[druidx]

WIP Intro - Her Countenance was Light

~SYNOPSIS~

The 1970s, twenty years after the rebuilding of Toreguard, semi-retired Sergeant Elowyn O'Toreguarde is called in for a new case - the murder of her childhood best friend, Evelyn Strucker. When the King of estranged Iceland turns up for an unexpected visit, the Triumvirate Council force O'Toreguarde to play tour guide, passing the murder case to her subordinates. But it doesn't completely leave her hands. A strange set of circumstances reveals an ethereal side to the City, filled with secrets. Secrets which may hold the key to Evelyn's murder.

~DETAILS~

Genre: Crime/ Urban Fantasy Type: Novel POV: Third person limited, predominantly Present tense Themes: Grief/ mourning, Change is neutral, Accepting who you are, Mercy is the preferred choice Aesthetic: Dieselpunk, Detective Noir, Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales Status: Technical editing. Posting weekly on Archive of Our Own and Tumblr. Tags: #WIP 'Her Countenance was Light' (All posts inc. meta info); #HCWL Chapters Only (Follow this tag for only the chapters in posting order)

~MAIN CHARACTERS~

Elowyn O'Toreguarde - F, Sergeant-Detective, Freeman of the City

Johan Strucker - M, Evelyn's Father, General, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

Storri Nargondsson - M, King of Iceland

Lerrald Brauma - M, Master of the Exchequer, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

~MINOR CHARACTERS~

Farren Breakwood - M, Constable-Detective, Elo's Police partner

Thazaar Clayrmantle - M, Acting Magister, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

Snotgrut - M, Unusual fellow. Curiosity. Shouldn't exist. ???

Meredith Gruksdottir - F, Bodyguard of K. Storri, Old friend of Elo's

Yoruk Copperheart - M, Bodyguard of K. Storri, Husband of Merri

Irvine Cobbleskater - M, Constable, subordinate of Elo

~OTHER STUFF~

Written for NaNoWriMo 2017. Technically a Modern, Mundane-ish AU of a TTRPG set in the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan. Formerly known as "FF/T Modern-Ish AU".

The plot is... not something I would normally write, and for a long while I hated it. Then I thought it was a too cringy, and tried to 'fix' it, only to give up. Now, on a recent re-read, I think this is the shape this story has always had to have. So I've decided to suck it up and get it ready for posting, so at least it's out there and not loitering on my hard drive.

Title is from a traditional song, Besse Bunting, arranged by Mediæval Bæbes.

~EXCERPT~

She cuts through a narrow alley of dark soot-stained brick, trots down a short set of steps and onto the flagged towpath next to the canal. There is an improvised bridge up ahead that will allow her to pass over the canal closer to where the station lies. She has run this route a hundred times, she knows every nook and cranny along this path, so when she reaches where the bridge should be, and finds it missing, she is perturbed, but not worried. Maybe someone finally reported the ramshackle thing, made of old boards and stolen scaffolding.

It was quick work though, she thinks as she back-tracks to where a tree clings to the bank. The bridge was still there when she came home in the early evening. She shakes the thought aside as she unhooks a rope swing from the tree. It's been a while since she had to use it, but she's in a hurry and has no time for the uncertainty that tries to drape over her like a cloak. With a running start, she jumps. It is only as she enters the apex of the swing that she realises something is wrong. The weight of the rope is too heavy, it shifts alarmingly as she reaches the apex of the swing. Then it has snapped, and she is falling, and she cannot remove her hands from the tacky surface of the rope, and the water is closing in over her head, and she thinks she sees the blaze of red eyes on the bank as she sinks through the darkness.

[dirhwangdaseul-archived]

is anyone gonna talk about how most of the dead characters will consist of nonwhite characters on the show (yj) now or what? the treatment of minorities kinda suck right now. travis died in the adult timeline. adam (the mexican coded character) was killed by shauna. javi died in the wilderness. kristen 'accidentally' died by falling off of a cliff. misty killed that reporter in the first season. and all these talks abt mari dying and possibly akilah dying and im like...? if you gonna do that you'd at least have to really really write well for lottie and tai's characters when your main cast consist of predominantly white characters alongside a handful of 'dead' nonwhite characters.

the writers wrote themselves into a corner honestly but as ever it was and still is an opportunity for them to like truly build up the horror by connecting with who the characters represent whether they want to accept it or not because im like very convinced they understand who taissa and lottie could represent but they prefer not to touch it out of fear of coming off racist probably but the fact that they remaines neutral about acknowledging their race as more than a wink like with the scenes of taissa becoming a senator and she was the only main character of color, it's fucking insane that we're dealing with tokenism in 2023 because the writers aren't brave enough to simply ask input in their white story like tawny cypress who fucking loves horror and her craft is there, simone kessell too like these are not amateurs if they don't want to ask for writers of color in their writing room and meanwhile we have jasmine savoy brown asking for scenes with akilah and taissa because that shit isnt even being thought of, its fucking weird it's what it is, but leaving that behind the fact that fandom can be so vindictive without acknowledging that the story does request like actual critical fucking thinking of its pieces however superficial the text could be at times like that is something fucking requested of the damn text considering just what people clearly come for which is shauna and jackie like suddenly all nuance is there for them, gone the minute people ask to pay attentio attention to the imbalance of the depth and exploration of the perspectives of the characters of color in a survival setting as if it could ever be paired up so easily with whiteness even as kids, way before the teenage years, that shifts, and like fuck, the fact that we have been prevented from seeing tai's family? lottie's? even the other dead yellowjackets families???? what does that say of thr focus of the story and the failures of the writers to present a balanced story like the scale is rigged, it always is but even so obviously presented here as you are, all we get from white fans is apathy, like that doesn't mirror the cruelty that is being commented on one way or another....... sick shit no lies......

and it is been a few of my mutuals and some posts in the tags which have acknowledged it as such and for all that fandom claims that is a space to speculate and expand on the text, once again, true colors are shown and instead of trying to build on the characters of color, they continously pull them down, like mary, like kristen, like travis not even in the way the story did as a tool for her suffering, he's erased for convenience like fuck.... the story shows how much it took to dehumanize each other to that point and i know it's fiction like i don't fucking teach it for a living but in a story that asks you to see the humanity in their cruelty and reason and childhood, people in the tags and fandom spaces of this show find it easy to dehumanize who they deem less worthy for free like... girl look at the fucking text ffs....

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Future on Hold [Chapter Six] Unexpected Journey [Cidolfus 'Cid' Telamon]

A/n: After finishing the outline for this there are going to be around 40 chapters. It's a bit of a long one. Please enjoy the chapter. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Warning(s): Cid being Cid, OC is a bit bratty at times, family moments, FF 16 lore, and language.

Stepping into the thrust, Eirene aimed for the straw-filled training dummy with a forward strike, hitting it in the center of its chest. She had to admit, after a fortnight of stringent training, her proficiency with the partisan was much better, though she still had much to learn.  

The polearm was versatile as Cid had remarked and kept her from using her magic as the weapon required her to use both hands to properly wield it; the main intention, she reckoned. All in all, it wasn't a waste of her time.

Eirene leaped back and put some distance between herself and the dummy, then raised the weapon above her head and spun 360 degrees around while stepping forward with it before she crouched and rotated it around her body, thrusting the blade forward to pierce the sack with a low thud. 

A series of sharp clapping turned her curious attention to the side where she caught sight of her older sister; a proud smile graced her face.

"Marvelous work," Caesaria applauded.  

Eirene grinned in happiness and waited for a moment to catch her breath before she approached her.

 

"It has been forever," she claimed. Or at least it felt that way. 

Benedikta had taken Caesaria with her to the Continent of Storm around the same time she tossed Eirene into Cid's care. Neither of the twins had seen the other in a while. Based on their beaming expressions, both were thrilled to be given this chance. 

"You look well," Eirene pointed out. 

"And you looked exhausted," the eldest retorted in honesty. 

The former glared at her. Of course, she looked exhausted. She had been up since dawn, poking at a burlap sack. 

"I have been training my arse off, not milling about on another continent."

 

"It wasn't all pleasure," Caesaria argued. She might have gotten to sightsee a bit, but there was a reason Benedikta took her to Storm.

Eirene hummed. She did not believe her, Caesaria could see it in her eyes. With a sigh, she crossed her arms. 

"Have you eaten breakfast? I just returned and I am famished."

"Not yet," Eirene answered with a knowing grin. "But I suppose I could take a break."

The twins walked to the castle and then took a seat in the dining hall as a maid set their table. Eirene waited for the woman to leave before she continued their conversation.

"If you were not on a pleasure trip then what did Benedikta take you to Storm for?" 

"Lady Harman," Caesaria corrected. "And to answer your question, Lord Tharmr is attempting to build an alliance with Dhalmekia so that we might one day soon gain a foothold on Storm. I merely shadowed her to observe." 

Eirene frowned. 

While it was a good plan to further their inquisition and gain an ally, she had hoped that she and her sister would not have been forced into such politics. But such was life. 

A comforting hand rested on her shoulder, drawing her from her thoughts. 

"It is no different than the duties that I had in Salacia," Caesaria assured her. 

The truth was, they were much worse, but she did not want to upset her sister more than she already was.

"The Dhalmeks are governed by a parliament, are they not?" Eirene asked. 

"Yes. There are five for each of the states in the Republic," Caesaria answered. She took an uneasy breath. "So you can see why it is so arduous. If one is not in agreement, then the entire parliament is not on board; it's simply old men bickering about which state has the most to lose with this agreement. However, their Dominant, Hugo Kupka, who acts as a special advisor dictates many of the region's decisions and goals."

Of course. A power as terrifying as Titan, Eikon of Earth acting like a pawn does not suit Kupka. The five nations might act as the face of the Republic, but Titan is its true ruler.

"So get Hugo Kupka on board," Eirene merely suggested with a raise of her shoulders.

Caesaria laughed. 

"That is what Lady Harman is attempting to do." 

She might be a bitch, but at least she was clever.

The maid returned shortly after with a goblet and bowl for each; water sweetened with honey and some sort of stew. Eirene began to eat, but Caesaria leaned in with a grin. 

"Enough about me. Tell me about how things have been with Sir Telamon."

The former narrowed her eyes.

 

"What is there to tell? He is an arse and dedicated to pissing me off."

"That is not saying much," Caesaria laughed. Her sister was easy to rile up. 

Eirene ignored her comment. Honestly, there wasn't much she could say. Since he gave her the partisan, which was leaning against the table beside her, he disappeared back into the cellar. She hadn't seen him since and she certainly had no reason to visit him.

"For the best, I suppose," Caesaria stated. "He and Lady Harman are quite close." 

Eirene raised a curious brow. 

"Are you certain?" 

Her sister nodded in agreement. 

"Gerulf is rather talkative when he gets a few pints of mead in him. He told me that Lady Harman respects Sir Telamon and that the two have been rumored to be romantically entwined."

How odd. Eirene did not know. Cid never spoke about Benedikta, but perhaps he was a private man. 

"That is their business." 

Caesaria hummed in agreement. What a shame. He was easy on the eyes. Taking up her spoon, she pointed at the polearm. 

"Was it his idea then to give that to you?"

Eirene grunted in response.

"Then you should thank him," the oldest suggested. 

For fuck's sake, she's too nice. 

Eirene took an uneasy breath. 

"Let me eat first and then I will do it."

Her sister merely grinned.

After breakfast, Caesaria said her goodbyes again, not sure how long she would be away this time. She heard a rumor that the Einherjar, Waloed's fastest ship was set to sail across the Naldia Narrow to Storm again soon. She was certain that Benedikta would order her to return and continue negotiations with her.

Eirene wasn't happy about the news, but there was not much she could do. She hugged her sister tightly and then parted ways.

Returning to the barracks, she considered training again, but her sister's words haunted her. She rested the polearm against her shoulder and headed to the cellar. It would be quick and then she wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. 

Cid's door was ajar when Eirene neared it, however, she knocked to be polite, hearing no answer from the man. Was he out? Sliding the door open a bit more, she peeked inside. Cid was pacing around the room, rummaging through piles of papers as if he was searching for something in a rush.

"I knocked," Eirene declared, walking in.

Cid grunted in response.

 

"I can't find the damned thing."

Eirene raised a curious brow. 

"That might be because you live like a beast."

"Then you won't mind assisting this mangy wolf to find his book," Cid retorted with a laugh. 

She supposed not. 

"Consider it thanks for the partisan."

Eirene leaned the polearm against the nearest wall and sauntered to the desk. 

"What does it look like?"

"Has a green spine, you can't miss it," Cid answered. 

Obviously, you can, Eirene opted not to say.

She checked on the opposite side of Cid, having no luck. While several books were lying around, none of them had a green spine. Wandering away from the desk, she scanned the room. Besides the bed looking a bit unkempt for once, nothing seemed out of place. As a last-ditch effort, before giving up, Eirene got on her knees and checked beneath the bed.

To her relief, she found the book. Sitting on her knees, she brushed her hair from her face and read the cover out loud. 

"The Valisthean Guide to Botany."

"That's the one," Cid remarked. 

He walked over to the bed and took the book when she handed it to him. Everything he needed was within those pages. Glancing down, he hummed in curiosity. 

"How are your shins?"

"Fine. After a day or two the tenderness and bruising faded," Eirene answered. No thanks to you.

It was true that her bruises should have faded by now, but not as soon as two days. Cid raised a brow.

"Moderate or mild?"

"Moderate," Eirene answered reluctantly. She knew what he was thinking. "Before you attack me again, know that it did not take a lot of magic."

For fuck's sake. Cid tightened his jaw.

"That big fish has healing properties?"

"Leviathan is not a big fish," Eirene argued. 

She sighed in irritation and moved onto the edge of the bed, removing her boot. Once the leg of her pants was rolled up, she showed Cid her shin. There was nothing there but a thin white scar. 

"She does have basic healing capabilities, but not without aid. Mixing her water with Morganbeard Extract boosts its potency much more than simply drinking a curative potion which does cure all manners of ailments, but weakly. Then it is a matter of applying it to the wound," she made clear.

Meaning that she cut her leg to heal the bruise. Cid leaned down and grabbed her leg to inspect it, ignoring the flush of red on her face. The scar looked to be about a year old but that did not excuse her action of using her body to test her capabilities.  

"Take a fucking High Potion next time," Cid asserted.

"Those were not easy to come by in Salacia," Eirene uttered. Morganbeard flowers were rare, growing near the swamps of eastern Storm. She had to use what she could when the need called for it.

Cid took an uneasy breath and stood. 

"It's the last second, but you are going with me on a short trip."

Eirene raised a curious brow. 

"Do I have a choice?"

"If I had asked you," Cid retorted. He pointed a finger to her polearm. "Pack light and don't forget to bring it."

What sort of trip was this? 

"Where are we going?" Eirene asked. 

"To the cliffs overlooking the Shadow Coast," Cid answered. 

He gave her no more of an explanation, leaving her alone as he left the room. 

But there is nothing there. The land is eaten up by the Blight. 

Why did Cid want to risk going there? Eirene groaned. This was going to be one hell of a trip.  

[cambion-companion]

What is wrong with THAT anon who wrote that just because content is free, we are to praise authors to the sky even if they 1) propagate toxic behaviours while claiming it is great love story; go watch 365 days on Netflix, you can picture Aemond as main male character kidnapping a woman, if that is your favourite content, that story has 3 parts, maybe you won't want to throw up until the last one, so good luck 2) make Aemond another Daemon, behaving like a monster towards his loved ones while saying this is love, clearly not understanding that Aemond is nothing like his uncle, showing only how you are unable to basically grasp the concept that this 2 people aren't one human being put in 2 bodies, who sided with Rhaenyra, one true girl boss while Alicent is evil and Aemond runs from her and his siblings at first opportunity 3) make Aemond change sides, showing your total lack of understanding towards not only him as a character but to readers who went through bullying and reading something like this might be triggering. Just shut up, you know nothing of effects bullying has on people and don't use Aemond as your own stupid way to normalise such thing just because you are Black stan who projects in mind that it would be so great for Aemond to change sides, belittling his trauma and ignoring how his trauma shaped him as a person. If you truly understand Aemond, you give him woman who supports Greens, who would not want him to change himself (aka turn his back on his mother, his one defender and supporter) and accepting him for he is and only this way he could begin to heal from his traumatic past. If you truly believe that ff where Aemond switches sides, befriends Luke or Daemon, save your so called wisdom to yourself and don't whine about not being praised. Mark my words, no one who experienced bullying would ever support this kind of content, hiding behind cloak of true love while being nothing but toxic and traumatic. Just because something is written, doesn't mean readers should be grateful whatsoever, just because dear author graced us with horrible writing, writing about Aemond but not paying attention to what he stands for, what kind of person he is and instead focusing on their own fantasies. So yeah, people should expect something better than Aemond switching sides, because what Aemond is, is a man loyal to people he loves and he would never betray his mother or siblings and if you can't see that, stuck in your way of thinking that everyone is supposed to love Rhaenyra, leave writing fics about Aemond to Green stans, at least Green stans appreciate quality over quantity

As for ff being accurate, sure, you can write about Aemond while having Voldemort or Thor in your mind, you can project on Aemond even things he is not, name his brother Loki instead of Aegon and name his dragon Nagini instead of Vhagar, how creative of you, maybe contact George R.R.Martin and try to write a script for 2 season so everyone could magically become Rhaenyra supporter?

Le sigh. I might have to start tagging these #Anon wars 😄 but I think both you guys have good points. Yes, it's certainly disturbing to see that kind of content for a character we love so much right? And of course we aren't obligated to love someone's work just because it's free. But we can also choose to not read it, and let it go. People are always going to produce media, whether it be fanfiction or not, that we don't agree with and that may even disturb us. It does fall to us to make the decision not to engage with it since, sadly, it's not going anywhere.

Some people in this Fandom definitely enjoy portraying Aemond out of character, and maybe they are even aware of it in some cases.

Myself, I try painstakingly to keep him in character in my fics. Mostly because I respect and am fascinated by him and want to expand on what the show has already created.

Hang in there, Anon. I know that on Tumblr you can also block tags you find upsetting.

[tarnishedxknight]

Noah ~ Available RP Verses

{out of dalmasca} Here are some specific verses for Noah so that muns of muses from Final Fantasy games, not from FF games, from the MCU, from other fandoms, etc. can get an idea of how they might interact with him. If you have any questions or would like to plot in a specific verse, let me know! =)

{ for the empire } ᵐᵃⁱⁿ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ

This is canon Noah in Ivalice, likely in Archadia, but location will vary according to what part of the Final Fantasy XII timeline you want your muse to be in. This verse is for those who have Final Fantasy muses or want to place their muse inside the FFXII world. Your character would be native to some part of Ivalice or the same world at least, and would then encounter Noah. Plotting may be necessary to discuss the timeline and scenario that you may want. Your muse can get involved in the canon plot of FFXII if you like or we can discuss a unique plot for our muses to follow.

{ the darker corners of ivalice } ᵐᵃⁱⁿ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ⁻ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵉᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ      

(I am going to write up this verse in detail at some point because there are a lot of headcanons throughout the timeline of the game and the twins’ lives that need to be discussed. When I do,  I will place a link to it here. Until then, if you want to know more or have questions, you can always ask me!) This verse contains everything the main verse does, but then also includes a number of headcanons regarding Noah/Gabranth, his mother, his brother Basch, the Archadian empress, and Larsa Solidor that venture into very tragic and potentially triggering topics, including child abuse/endangerment, sexual abuse, psychological abuse, violent murder, and mental illness. So any threads with Noah that are in this verse or have this tag take those events into account. Most of this will likely not be described in detail, but it exists in the fleshed-out portions of Noah’s life that we didn’t get to see. The canon game was chopped up and had many plot holes and time gaps, so this verse fills in, fleshes out, adds headcanons, explains holes and gaps, and generally smooths out the plot to make much more sense, but with some darker themes in an attempt to make a more harshly realistic story for Basch and Noah.

{ twin judgement } ᵃʳᶜʰᵃᵈⁱᵃⁿ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ

This verse follows basically the same trajectory for Noah as the dark verse, but in this verse Basch did not leave and go to Dalmasca. He went with Noah and their mother to Archadia, shouldered the burden of survival along with him, and became a Judge Magister as well. The twins are very much inseparable and emotionally co-dependent in this verse, having nearly identical sets of armor, heading the same Division together, and sharing quarters. Basch is highly protective of Noah, but also deeply emotionally attached to him, definitely in an unhealthy way, in that he clings to him as the last of his family. He is also poisoned with nethicite in this verse to the same degree Noah is, and his eyes are amber/orange/reflective too.

{ the two made one } ʳᵉᵛᵉⁿᵃⁿᵗ ˢᵒᵘˡ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ

This directly follows from the dark verse, but then adds Noah becoming a nethicite ghost after he is killed by Vayne. Not only that, but he is attached to Basch, such that Basch experiences his memories and emotions at times. Twins, two halves of a single soul, made one by Noah’s death.

{ older than the history books } ʳ��ᵛᵉⁿᵃⁿᵗ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ

This verse follows the plotline of Noah not being killed by Vayne at the end of the game, and living on as a revenant after technically dying once before at the Pharos. To others, he still looks like a 36 year-old man, but by modern day, he is more than five millennia old. He likely lives in a large city, but in a very small and humble apartment. This verse can overlap with his MCU verse if he involves himself with the Avengers.

{ unwilling avenger } ᵐᶜᵘ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ

In this verse, Noah has been frozen in stasis by a nethicite explosion while fighting against the canon adventuring group of FFXII. He was found (likely by SHIELD or SWORD or some similar agency) in a modern day setting in the MCU, and much like Steve Rogers, he is a man out of time. This verse can also extend to Marvel in general, if you wanted Noah to join SHIELD, etc. as a specialized agent.

{ welcome to archadia } ᵐᵘˡᵗⁱᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ᶜʳᵒˢˢᵒᵛᵉʳ

This verse is essentially Noah’s main verse but incorporating the MCU concept of a multiverse. It can work for any muse not native to FFXII, not just MCU muses. Basically, the concept is that there are many different tangential timelines and verses in which there are different versions of characters, and sometimes… things get a little screwy and characters can – either intentionally or through some magical mishap – end up in other timelines/verses/worlds. So in this verse, your muse would end up in some part of Ivalice and encounter Noah. Again, this may require some plotting to figure out how and why your muse came to Ivalice and whether you want your muse to be thrown into the plot of FFXII or have their own unique plot.

{ what madness is this? } ᵐᵘˡᵗⁱᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ᶜʳᵒˢˢᵒᵛᵉʳ

This verse uses the same concept of a multiverse as the verse directly above this one, but where Noah ends up in your muse’s world instead of them ending up in his. Again, it would most likely occur through some magical mishap.

{ i’ve no right to be called by that name } ᵉᵖⁱˡᵒᵍᵘᵉ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ

This verse takes place during the epilogue of the game, where Basch has taken Noah’s place as Judge Magister Gabranth. However, instead of doing so because Noah died of the wounds inflicted on him by Vayne, Basch does so because Noah is still recovering from wounds so dire that they render him unable to continue as a Judge Magister. Noah - for now he must fall back to being called by his given name - has been spirited away to Old Archades where both Basch and Larsa know where he is and make sure he is well cared for... perhaps by your muse?

{ beyond the veil } ᶠᵒʳᵗʳᵉˢˢ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ

This verse incorporates the scrapped storyboards, setting, and timeline of Fortress, the canceled FFXII sequel. Any events that take place just before, during, or after the events of this would-be game are including in this verse. You can read more about Fortress and its story here. For Noah, this verse would likely go hand in hand with the verse “the two made one.”

[a-victorian-girl]

Tags, where you often type extra words after main posts. People will tag sensitive subjects, like "Sexual content" or "Alcohol mention". Various things for the blacklisting system. That way I can follow people, but my blacklist will protect me from triggering content. I grew up in a house where animals were abused, it's just triggering to see animals getting hurt if I don't have to.

I should have asked you just to tag them instead of demanding you to not to post it. (Well, I didn't mean to be demanding, I didn't realize others would defend animals being hurt. I only sent an ask as multiple friends were also uncomfortable.) I asked someone else to tag their posts too, and they refused so I had to block them, unfortunately.

There's no hard feelings, I ask people to tag because I still appreciate the rest of their content (Or friendship). If they don't want to, I just unfollow. (Or block if they're rude as well.)

Don't use the actual community labels because then people don't even get the option to opt in or out. It will hide your posts from most, rather just people who blacklist a tag.

Thank you for deleting it, though I saw you reposted it. Good luck for the future, I'll unfollow. Always alright to post anything you want on your blog, I was too brash because I was "triggered". I am responsible for what I see, hence the ask for tagging, and if they don't I just leave. No big deal, I didn't mean for this to be something more lol

And you're leaving just like that, without even knowing at least who I have to say goodbye to? Jeez... I really can't believe all of this, seriously.

I mean, it's horrible what you've been through at your home, I understand your pain, and I'm sorry for that. But… can't you distinguish between animal abuse and the natural behavior of an animal? Do you understand that that darn GIF doesn't show animal abuse? Can't you see a cat hunting a bird? Because it's clearly visible. I mean yes, poor bird… but it's the fucking nature, sweetie. Cats hunting birds, cats hunting mice, it's what they do in their natural -and wild- state. Let's not even talk about Animal Planet, right?

How many times have you visited my blog? Obviously very few (I'd say never). How many times have I posted content about animal abuse? Do you think I'm capable of posting content about animal abuse? (I scold my son when he wants to step on an ant, ffs).

Anyway, whoever you are, was a pleasure and I wish you all the best.

See you.

[gaygraviturgist]

no no no no no no i did not just see a mash up gifset for sandman and good omens in the style of the superwholock ones from years gone by

[holden-caulfield]

What If I Don't Want You To?

main masterlist

REQUESTED: "Hii! I saw that you wanted people to leave kaz requests in your asks so here I am! Could you do a ff in wich the reader is a part of the crows and she's really sarcastic and flirty (similar to jesper) and she constantly flirts with kaz, (he acts like it doesn't affect him but he secretly loves it) and one day she does something especially bold that makes him blush madly and they finally admit their feelings for each other (also a lot of teasing of the crows to kaz pls) thank you so much!"

SUMMARY: reader loves to tease kaz but is scared once she realizes she might have gone too far.

WARNINGS: a mention of blood but nothing graphic

WORD COUNT: 1422

Kaz was the most closed-off person you knew. He never revealed anything, wether it was his feelings or the details of a new plan, and it enraged you. That's why you took it upon yourself to see just how far you could push him.

Flirting with Kaz Brekker wasn't an easy task, nor was it rewarding but it sure was fun. The crows loved to see which new technique you would have used and what effect it would have had on Kaz. It was usually a simple glare; a snarky comment when you were lucky. Bets were made on his reactions and you soon became a part of it.

"What are we thinking today, Y/n?" started Jesper while walking you down to the club, "I'm betting on a smirk."

"A smirk?!" you asked surprised, "I'm not even sure Kaz can smile..."

"He can, i've seen him once. I thought i was dreaming but when i pointed it out, he glared at me. I knew it was real when he whacked me with his cane." stated Jesper, shivering at the memory. You couldn't help but laugh at his theatrics. "Why do you do it, by the way?"

You took a moment to answer, suddenly serious again.

Truth was that all the innocent flirty comments you made −comments that started out as nothing more than a pastime− soon changed something in you. They were becoming truthful, and seeing Kaz answer with nothing but a dismissive comment was not easy. Trying to evoke feelings in him, inadvertently awoke feelings in you. Feelings for your boss that you shouldn't have had.

"Do i need a reason? It's fun, why do you talk to yourself in the mirror when you think no one's watching?" you retorted, raising eyebrows in genuine question.

"First of all, you shouldn't have seen that. Second of all, you should try it, you'd feel much better afterwards." he said simply and you tried restraining the smile that inevitably made its way on your face.

You entered the club which was, as always, in full swing. Several people were already ordering at the bar all kinds of alcohol while many others were betting all their possessions at the tables. Only the dregs knew that the real bets were being placed under the tables.

"Ten that he doesn't say anything." you heard someone whispering.

You were the newest of the dregs and of the crows, but you had already earned yourself a reputation.

"Twenty that he finally kicks her out." another voice from somewhere in the club.

That one made you shiver. Would he really reach a point where he would fire you? You were a useful member, you wouldn't have made it into the crows if you weren't, but were you too much? Would he eventually get tired of you?

You walked over to your usual table with Jesper to meet Inej. Kaz wasn't there yet and you were really thinking of ending it there, no more flirting, no more jokes. This was your job, nothing else.

"What do you have for us, boss?" asked Jesper as he saw Kaz approaching.

He looked as he always does: black refined clothes clinging to him in an assortment of sharp edges, making him look even more direful to new merchants. He looked dashing the way a raging sea at night is; frightening, yet enticing. And that was wrong, you reminded yourself.

"It was a dead end." he said, sitting down.

He was in a gloomy mood, certainly for the news, and even though you knew you would have let down the whole club, you couldn't help but think of the comment you had heard moments ago.

"Twenty that he finally kicks her out."

You loved working and simply being with the crows and the possibility of being kicked out was positively frightening.

But you couldn't simply stop. Everyone would have noticed something was off, he would have noticed. And then what? He would have known you liked him.

You had to do something big, something he couldn't simply ignore. You might have been out of the dregs for good, or maybe not.

Jesper kicked your shin under the table, making you focus back on the real word and motioning at all the dregs in the club, looking expectantly at you.

Kaz and Inej were now talking about something you weren't quite getting, their voices seemed distant as you tried to forget about everyone's eyes on you. You had made it a thousand times already, you could do it once more.

"So, what are we going to do now?" asked Jesper and Kaz leaned back in his chair.

"I have some other leads we can try, but we'll have to split up." he started, the prospect of new kruge in his pockets making him incredibly more cheerful, "Jesper, Inej heard something about a particularly pricey painting in east stave, she'll bring you there and you'll learn more about it. And Y/n," he began and you perked up.

It was your moment to say something and get it over with.

"We'll go to west stave, i need your help with a lead there."

"Oh, you need me?" you said, your tone excessively teasing.

"That's what i said, but i can ask Inej." he replied drily.

You hesitated but you were not one to back down, especially not in front of one of Kaz's passive aggressive comments.

"But then you wouldn't get to stare at me longingly while i work, would you?" you said, pouting slightly.

You could have expected a retort, a glare, a not-so-nice hand gesture, but not him storming out of the club.

The entirety of the dregs was dumbfounded, Jesper and Inej, who never participated in the bets but still knew about them, were agape. You were mortified.

"Maybe," began Inej, "You should go talk to him."

"And meet my demise?" you asked.

"There must be a reason why he stormed out-"

"Yes, that he would have liked to kill me but blood stains are tough to remove." Jesper laughed but you were quite serious.

You got up either way, you had to explain yourself to him, you owed him at least that, and got out.

You found him not so far from the club's entrance, leaning on the railing over the river. You approached him unsurely.

"Kaz." he didn't turn around, so you got closer to the railing and noticed that his face, even in the night with the palest light of the street lamps, was scarlet. "I'm- i'm sorry, i will stop."

He remained silent.

"That is if you still want me in the crows, if not i'll leave tonight obviously." he turned to you, usually-perfect hair now slightly tousled, face still red and unreadable.

"Why wouldn't i?" he asked.

"I'm always teasing you and i figured you hated that. I will stop."

"What if i don't want you to?" your head perked up and he turned back towards the horizon, but a smirk crept up on his face. He didn't bother hiding it.

"So you can smile?" he rolled his eyes.

"I don't like it when people point out things i obviously do, you should have noticed back there."

Heat rushed to your face and the smile he had plastered onto his face turned into a complacent one.

"It was real? You stare at me longingly?" you asked bewildered.

He looked at you once before turning to the horizon once more, "Obviously not."

But you could sense he was lying.

"Told you he could smile, Y/n!" shouted Jesper from behind you.

You both turned around to find Jesper and Inej surrounded by the dregs and a couple of other clients too, all jostling to get a better look of the scene.

"It'll be hard for him not to, i'm afraid." joined in Inej and you bit your lip to refrain the laughter. Kaz's annoyed expression didn't help you maintaining a straight face.

"I'm not paying you to stand here doing nothing, get back inside." he ordered.

Everyone turned back inside but Jesper and Inej.

"Boss, if Y/n now gets double, just know i'm great at flirting too." stated Jesper as Kaz made his way back to the club, you in tow.

He ignored him and whacked him with his cane. Again. Jesper had now yet another lovely cane story to add to his collection.

"You'll never let him forget it, won't you?" you whispered. Jesper looked at you like a child who had just entered candy land.

"Never."

taglist - @henqtic @eunoniaa @wh0re4blaise @harmqnia @sanctimoniousslytherpuff @maybesandohnos @youreso-golden @beforeoursunsets @o-rion-sta-r @mollysolo @prettygirlkay @dlmmdl @chaoticgirl04 @badass-yn @peachybaes @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dreamcxtcherr @maybanksslut @gwlvr @aleksanderwh0r3 @alltheloztboys @miraclesoflove @s1xthirty

[if your name is crossed out, check your privacy settings! if you don't want to be tagged anymore, tell me!]

[captainsspnanon]

C3E14 reaction

First half reactions in no particular order:

This fight feels like it’s trying to be Grog vs Kern.  Like, the C2 fisticuffs were vibing incredibly differently so I didn’t really feel the comparison, but this didn’t hold my attention anywhere near as well.  I do wish that Taliesin described what he was doing before rolling, and then saw if it succeeded or not, but the flavor to the combat was still pretty good.  

TELL US WHAT THE GODDAMN RAGES ARE FFS

Also not a fan of the rage-spamming to get the effect that Ashton wants.  It’s 100% valid mechanically, but doesn’t make sense RP-wise to me.  If it’s a random effect, I want it to actually be RANDOM, not ‘oops I’ll try again’.

What the fuck kind of barbarian is Ratanish??  Is this another homebrew?  I also feel like he’s got to be a decently higher level, considering the hit point difference seems fairly significant.  Unless all of the 7 points and 7-reduced-to-3 points were actually even more reduced due to an un-narrated hidden detail.

This party has so many button pushers!  It’s both amazing, and worrisome.  Mostly just because I don’t really enjoy super chaotic episodes, and the main campaigns have always seemed to walk the line of having enough seriousness to balance out the chaos.  With a bunch of button pushers?  I’m slightly on edge.  On the other hand, there are a good number of calmer PCs, so we’ll see.

I still can’t tell if it was Sam or FCG who was showing ‘irritation’ and impatience. I’m really hoping it’s FCG, I just need some depth to the PC visible.  Yes, there’s a ton implied, but I’d like a bit more outright rather than just ‘friendly folksy healer with proverb malapropism’

Such shitty rolls outside of the combat bit!  It’s gonna be one of THOSE nights, isn’t it?

Also everyone is super ridiculous today and I love it.  I wonder what was happening when they were filming that had them all giddy and out of it?

Why is Marisha trying to kill me this episode?  *fans self*  I just get so THIRSTY some times!

BREAK TIME!

Fun combat!  I feel bad for Taliesin for not really getting to be in the fight, but happy for Ashton that they don’t die because they were already super low on health!  Also glad that barbs get at least 3 rages at level 5, I had thought they only got two and they’d used them up!  (either that or they reset on a short rest, which Ashton clearly would have gotten)

I’m intrigued by the Green Seekers, I’m expecting them to be an ongoing ‘antagonistic’ force.  Not that I think that they’re bad, but just will most likely be on the other side of the party.

I don’t have too much to say about the rest of the episode.  I’m doing my write up after the fact, rather than while I’m watching, so most everything has blended together into feels.

I didn’t like Bell’s Hells at first (I actually got it spoiled before I had a chance to watch the episode), but actually hearing them toast to each other with it, it grew on me.  I can see myself liking it after a number of uses.  (also not going to tag this post with it yet, because it counts as a spoiler.  I’ll start tagging once they change the youtube names)

Ashley with her hair up is trying to kill me just as much as Marisha was.  The ladies are ROCKING IT this episode!!

I also got Robbie leaving spoiled, but I will watch the two part EXU story with him. Surprised it’s only two episodes though!

Cyrus saying Emoth Kade worked with someone she called ‘mother’.  What The Sheet has posited that this could be an ooblex, and with this reveal, I’m thinking they may be right!

I teared up when Dorian was leaving, and the goodbyes they shared, though lolling forever at him leaving the ship behind to get snatched up by a child.

Real talk – I’m in the minority here in the fact that I don’t mind Robbie leaving. I absolutely would not have minded him staying, he’s been a delight!  But eight PCs has felt a bit overwhelming to me at times, and while they’ve had a fantastic dynamic with Robbie, I do kind of miss just core cast dynamic.  It’s selfish, I know.  I AM expecting that they’ll bring on other guests to stay for like, 10 episode stretches at a time.  If they do so, I do hope that they have a number of episodes between, just for my own personal preference.

@suicidallyreckless

[laufire]

RNM 3x04

Although I’m enjoying the season so far, I gotta say, the episodes feel super disconnected, this one most of all. I blame the fact that Liz (THE LEAD) and Rosa still aren’t participating in the main fucking plot :)))

I’m still extremely wary of Rosa’s storyline. I think it makes sense for the character, and that *for now* they’re keeping it in line with it being more about Rosa proyecting/exorcising her issues than about Wyatt Long’s manpain, but. I’m eyeing it. And I really want her to be more involved in the main plot/do more stuff. Now that Kyle is in peril and Long is leaving town (which made me wonder whether he’ll become a suspect, actually), I hope that’s where she’s headed. I loved her art (it always has so much personality in it, I love how they do it) and her quote about people changing and becoming who they want to be.

I feel that with this storyline I’m doing a reverse of my usual “things I roll with in fiction but wouldn’t stand for irl” LOL. Because if I was in Rosa’s shoes I WOULD try to deradicalize someone like Long -and there’s no shortage of people like Long in my hometown, so I’m not just talking out of my ass here-, less for him and more as harm reduction and for my own morals. But this could derail Rosa’s storyline in really annoying ways. And I REALLY don’t trust this show’s track record with race. On top of that, a lot of the discourse around redemption arcs~ conveniently omits the fact that only white male characters are pressumed to get them after they commit horrible acts. Why can’t Flint, a MoC, be the one to get a redemption arc instead, for example? It could’ve been painfully easy to switch their storylines, and it could’ve been interesting since Rosa actually disliked him in high school. But the show suddenly decided to care for Long’s inner life. Because white characters (and people) are afforded more complexity by others, more good faith.

I’m not TOO worried about Kyle because it feels too early in the season to fully close that plot. But if they killed him I don’t know that I could continue with the show. I adore Rosa, but her storyline isn’t grabbing me; and I dig Michael’s family drama with Nora and the dictator, but they’re not as ~dear to me. Kyle this season was the one reuniting it all. And they can’t kill him before we figure out everything with the communicator and his father!! C’mon. Anyway. I did love him this episode, helping out; and his scenes with Michael (my rareship is sailing! xDD) were great, from their bitchiness with the radio to their perspectives during their argument. The moment Michael pushes him to take cover and then removes Kyle’s hand from his shoulder asldkfjaf. This fandom is weak for not writing me multiple pages of this rareship, js.

Speaking of rareships sailing LOL, I can’t believe after my joke post about Bert x Kyle I got a mini scene asdlfjasdf, where Bert talks to Kyle and pays a compliment to his mother. I’ve also said since then that I wanted more Bert in the show, but frankly, I wish it was for more alien/conspiracy/fun stuff (like his artisanal beer or his werewolf obsession! or get into the main alien plot!), and not an Issue Storyline that I don’t even trust the show to handle properly.

Maria and Isobel’s vision quest was fun, although I resent the fact that the Liz we saw for half the episode was a fake (seriously, BRING HER TO THE DAMN MAIN PLOT ALREADY). I don’t care much for the two of them bonding, tbh, but if it’s what Maria wants, so be it. And her moments with Kyle this season have made me more lenient towards Isobel, at least. I’m also curious about some of the elements in the quest: the first things Maria sees are Michael sitting in her bar and Rosa painting her table <33. Bert is around being attacked by racists. I also dig that either/both of them pictured Kyle in his doctor getup (with the radio).

Wrt the vision itself, I’m still on denial about the dead being Kyle lol. I’ve heard all the theories: fake death to hide the aliens (I hope that can get solved because if Kyle couldn’t for some reason continue his career in medice it would CRUSH him), and his mother (please don’t) seem the most likely options after this episode. Others are Sanders (for the hints in last week’s) or even Arturo (for Rosa and Liz’s reactions, although obviously the “Valenti” crest wouldn’t make sense there). I also don’t see how it makes sense to cover Kyle’s death if Logan killed him? Unless Max tries to heal him and leaves a handprint. Anyway, I hope none of the above die and it can be resolved. And BTW: the SPN war flashbacks I’ve witnessed in the tags with the “killing” method are. Something. I think RNM still kept the scene dramatic and the audience concerned, but man. The risk of that reference... I don’t know that it was worth it lol.

BRING LIZ TO THE MAIN STORYLINE FFS. I like what we see of her on LA in abstract, but in practice... she’s the lead ffs. One episode where she’s out and having a nice time dancing (those scenes were lovely, admittedly) like this one can be great, but after three episodes where she’s been so removed of it all? Nuh huh. Given recent events (Kyle’s attack, the handprint on her chest reacting, her resignation) I hope it changes soon. And I hope Heath can be taken at face value, because I don’t trust this show’s track record with MoC that could inconvenience its storylines (see Noah and Diego, or even Flint). Also, I LOLED at her dream in the beginning, with her imagining Max apologizing to her and expressing her own concerns about getting lost in their relationship lmfao (as if that would ever cross his mind xD).

His scenes with Kyle seem designed to get Michael out of his funk wrt his heritage, and I appreciate it (especially if it’s THIS, and not the useless or even counterproductive pep talks of anyone else Michael cares more about that does the trick lol). I’m still eagerly awaiting for development on this front. Related to that, I’ve seen the theories about Jones being his father, but. Eh. It’s not that I don’t see how it could be possible (he’s incredibly powerful and can make fire), but. To put it bluntly? I don’t think the actor can pull off what I want from the Dictator. I want someone charismatic, and preferably visibly older than Michael that actually looks like his father. Jones would be a terrible miscast on both accounts. If they bring someone else JUST for Michael it could also be a sign of him really taking over the storyline (which I’m still iffy about because of my other faves, but it’s an interesting way to see where the show is headed).

I feel they could have taken Jones to more interesting places but there’s still time. The good news is that he shaved his godawful beard AND saved a dog’s life lol. Also, am I the only one that thought he might’ve known Noah, when he grabbed his and Isobel’s picture? I’m curious about that.

[fandom-puff]

Alfie Solomons on Social Media

Big thank you to @cheekypeakyblinders @peak-a-blinder and @champagneholland !! So much love and support with this lil social media themed project we’re doing! Go read their writing (linked at the bottom!) also can I just say I’m super proud of the moodboards I made for these :)

Alfie is NOT tech savvy. He’s not a complete technophobe, but he’s definitely not down with the latest trends, he doesn’t have a clue what half the pre-installed apps on his phone are for and he’s only just figured out that you can have a contacts list and that you don’t need to manually type in a whole phone number if it’s already saved on his phone.

He often forgets how to turn off caps lock, so his texts can often be misinterpreted as very angry or very excited

He also uses LOTS of abbreviations- like the normal ones (lol, wtf, ffs, cba) but then he also makes his own up which just confused everybody

Example:

It’s okay though bc the younger ones actually teach him stuff (*cough* unlike tommy abd arthur who just take the piss)

‘No right Finn mate I don’t want to fuckin download Tik tok I’ve got a fuckin watch and a little clock on the screen fucks sake’

Alfie’s in a fair few group chats- there’s the main GC that has the Shelby/gray clan (he’s there for banter and because Polly is an admin and she knows it pisses tommy off

Every morning without fail at like... 5-6 o’clock, he’ll send a bright and cheerful good morning text that’s normally not very well received. But he does it anyway bc him and Pol are the only ones awake :)

Alfie on snapchat is a different story. Literally every day there’s a picture of Cyril with a caption like ‘love of my life’ ‘best mate’ ‘don’t know what I’d do without you’

He also posts all his baked goodies onto his story too, and the random women who add him via quick add end up swooning over his floury tattooed arms bc he has a dog and he can COOK

He hasn’t got a CLUE what a private story is so every day, at least 100+ people are subjected to ‘tommy fucking Shelby has a stick up his arse pass it on’ which gets screenshotted and sent to the group chat

He doesn’t get the whole ‘streaks’ thing either

‘No I don’t wanna fucking streak with you isaiah what the fuck??? I thought your dad was a man of god and all that???’

Cue three days later on his story: “there’s fires next to some of your names right and if you die yeah, blame isaiah because he asked me to streak with him and I don’t think Jeremiah likesd that tbh and probs prayed to god to smite yous down lol’

‘Alfie it just means we’ve snapped eachother for three consecutive days mate’

His story that day: ‘sorry you’re not getting smited you lot just like sending me pictures of your ceilings ??’

Snapchat filters took him by surprise too but imagine this man’s JOY when he found out Cyril could wear funny glasses AND have a round face 🥺🥺🥺

Let’s talk YouTube. Despite not knowing how to turn caps lock off, and thinking Finn is having a stroke every time he throws it back, Alfie is quite the vlogger.

What’s starts off as mostly baking videos and rants (he likes to get things off his chest while kneading the SHIT out of some dough) quickly turns into a full on THING

He makes all sorts of videos- at least one weekly vlog with Cyril and him going on an adventure

Honestly those ones are basically asmr bc Alfie will be recording cyril with one hand and petting him and scratching behind his ears with the other and just murmuring ‘what’ve you got there mate? A rock? Tha’s fuckin brilliant that is my mate. My good boy aren’t you? Yeah... good lad... you gonna put the rock down or... no we’re fuckin... taking the fuckin rock home with us... whatever you say mate...’

Like it’s not much of a vlog like ‘hey guys it’s Alfie aka the Wandering Jew and today me and my pal are going to the park’ it’s more of a ‘watch this great big bear of a man talk very gently to a great big dog for fifteen minutes’ type of vlog

He also does the baking vids obvs, but in more of a tutorial format rather than bitching about his mate ‘Timmy’ as he develops the gluten with his sleeves rolled upto his elbows.

‘Well Jamie Oliver will tell you to do it like this’

*like 10 seconds of silence as he stares at the camera*

‘FUCK Jamie Oliver the stupid twat THIS is the right way to do it

There are normally some VERY thirsty comments about his arms.

He does a reaction video to the thirsty comments once

John read them out to him and his audience was DELIGHTED by his blush as he muttered ‘that right, is fuckin inappropriate innit? Fucking filth like that when I’m trying to teach you how to bake my nan’s bread? Terrible.’

Alfie’s new found YouTube success brings some unwanted attention too...

He doesn’t really know what to do about it so he just leaves it...

A week later, however...

Finally, lets talk messaging his significant other

Admittedly his long winded, meandering rants don’t really translate very well into text, so he much prefers to FaceTime or simply ring you

His texts are sweet though

He tries, bless him

If you don’t live together, you get a good morning and a goodnight text every night, regardless of any business.

You quickly learn to mute your phone as soon as you wake up bc he is an early bird lol

You hear the rants he doesn’t put on his story 🥺🥺

He doesn’t really use emojis but he uses them a LOT more when he texts you- mainly the heart ones

Likes your instagram posts literally as soon as they’re posted and always comments on them

‘You’re fucking beautiful you. I love you’

He does it on your snapchat story as well, sensing you your picture with a cute (or flirty) comment

SMUTTY TALK BELOW

You love texting him little flirty messages??? Just subtle ones with a cheeky double entendre.

Maybe you’re thinking about him. Maybe the sausages you had with breakfast really were juicy who knows 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Either way it gets him GOING

You use snapchat to your biggest advantage, sending him cheeky little peeks at your body, but never quite ENOUGH

He clicks off the image really quickly so you normally get a ‘Alfie💖 has replayed your snap’ notification

‘Fuck me love’

‘Later. In a meeting gtg xx’

He doesn’t really take dirty pics himself. He does, however, tell you to grab your headphones ;)

Thank you for reading! Below are the other works in this collab! Make sure to check them out 💖💖

John Shelby by @cheekypeakyblinders

Michael Gray by @champagneholland

Finn Shelby by @cheekypeakyblinders

Tommy Shelby by @peak-a-blinder

Grace burgess by @champagneholland

Arthur Shelby by @peak-a-blinder

Tag list: @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyswritings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @soleil-dor @hiddensapphic @fckingpeakyblinders @snugleo @alittlebirds @satanxklaus @glamsaturn @thegirlwithoutaname87 @queenofmankind @awkwardretro @captivatedbycillianmurphy @xshinytrashcanx @hanster1998 @cheekypeakyblinders @champagneholland

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan 

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Or on FF

Tagging:   @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda

Chapter 3: Walk With Me

Emma woke late, feeling seasick as her feet hit the floor of her room. “Oh God.” She jumped up from the bed and ran to the bathroom, releasing the contents of what was in her stomach into the toilet.

“How much did you drink last night, Em?” Ruby staggered into the bathroom behind her.

“Seasick.” She mumbled, leaning against the sink, and splashing water on her face.

“Here, take your pills.” Emma swallowed what was offered to her, hoping they would work quickly, otherwise she was either going to have to spend the next two weeks in her bed or swim home.

“We’re going to take a dance class today.” Ruby announced suddenly.

“Not if I feel like this I’m not.” She looked at her reflection, dark circles under her eyes from her night of interrupted sleep.

“Oh, come on Em, it will make you feel better if you get out of the room.” Ruby pouted and pushed a pink sundress toward her.

Emma weighed her options, spend the day in her room, feeling like shit, or go outside with the sunshine and feel like shit. “Fine, I’ll go, better to go outside than sit in here all day.”

An hour later as she stood in the middle of a large room with Will and Ruby, sunlight dancing in through the floor length windows around her, the ocean just outside, she was starting to feel better, at least physically. The fact that she was now being asked to learn to dance a waltz was a completely different issue. Her stomach was knotted in a bundle of nerves and apprehension.

“Can I have two volunteers?”

Emma stepped backward, hoping to melt into the background and watched as the woman that her brother had been speaking to the night before stepped forward.

“Thank you, dear. Can I get a gentleman to join this brave woman?”

“I’ll do it.” A man shouted from the back of the other side of the room.

Emma watched in a shocked awe as David came out of the shadows to join the woman in the middle of the dance floor.

“Guess he was flirting with her.” Ruby whispered in her ear.

“I didn’t even know he could dance.” She said, amazed as he and the woman flitted around the room as if they had been doing this their whole life together. Her brother was admiring the short haired girl with a look she had never seen him direct toward another woman in his life.

“Wonderful, look how beautifully they glide across the floor.” The instructor complimented them and the girl’s cheeks turned a crimson red, her eyes never leaving David’s. “Now everyone else grab a partner and we will all practice together.”

Emma groaned trying to escape to the door when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “May I?” She looked up to see a handsome man standing beside her.

“Oh um…” Emma felt Ruby shove her forward into the man’s arms.

“Her name’s Emma.”

“Graham.��� He said softly before leading her to the dance floor and taking her in his arms, ignoring the frustrated anger Will was directing at Ruby before she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him onto the dance floor.

~*~

Killian watched the scene in front of him with both a sense of awestruck horror and sheer joy. Robin was in the midst of his third try of the day to convince Regina Mills to join him for dinner.

“I will do no such thing.” She spat. “When are you going to stop asking me?”

“My lady, I do not plan to stop asking until you say yes.”

“You are infuriating, and you will die trying.” Killian chuckled and she turned toward him, “Do you find this funny, Captain?”

“Actually…”

“Never mind.” She growled, putting her hand in his face.

“Regina, my love, give me one dinner to prove it to you.”

She pushed away from the desk, “Prove what? That you are annoying, repulsive, and egotistical? Dream on, buddy, it’s not happening. Ever!” She turned on her heels and walked away.

“I shall but try again another day, love.” He shouted after her.

Killian’s smile grew on his face, “Well that was riveting.”

Robin’s love-struck expression was almost comical. “I’m growing on her.”

“How can you possibly believe that?” His look of shock apparent to the confident man standing in front of him.

“She didn’t tell me to go fuck myself this time.”

Killian laughed; his attention drawn to a small group passing them from the corner of his eye. He turned his head away from them as they flitted past the desk, not wanting to run into Emma while in his uniform. She was talking to a man on her right side while walking arm and arm with a tall brunette woman on her left. He wondered if these were the friends who had blackmailed her or if she had finally met someone on this ridiculous cruise.

He found it completely preposterous when he realized that he hoped it was the former rather than the latter.

~*~

“Emma, you look beautiful, and I get to be the lucky bloke that gets to ‘fake date’ you on this cruise.”

“I’m the lucky one, William.” She grinned and took his arm as they headed to dinner. As they got closer to the table, she felt Will stiffen beside her.

“Bloody hell, she’s following me.” Emma followed his gaze to their table, seeing the girl he had been avoiding sitting at the table with David, but she was even more surprised to see her brother sitting next to the woman he had danced with earlier.

“Maybe you should try talking to her. She seems too nice to be a stalker.”

“That’s what a stalker would do, pretend to be nice so they can get close to you.” He whispered.

“There you two are.” Her brother announced as they approached the table, standing up to pull out Emma’s chair for her. “This is my sister I was telling you about. Emma, this is Mary Margaret Blanchard and Belle French.”

Emma smiled politely at the two ladies. She had never seen her brother so enamored with a woman before. “Very nice to meet you,” She turned to her right and yanked Will toward the table, tugging him down into the seat beside her and on the other side next to Belle. “This is Will, you’ll have to excuse him, he’s shy.”

“Bugger.” He groaned as he put his elbows on the table, hanging his head on his fists. Emma reached over and shoved his elbows off the table, giving him a dirty look. He grumbled and hunched into his chair.

“Mary Margaret and Belle are from Maine.” David exclaimed with even more excitement.

“I teach kindergarten and Belle is our school librarian. I won this trip from one of those radio shows. I was caller number five and I got to bring a guest with me. It was so exciting for Belle and I to get away during the summer.”

“Isn’t that amazing?” David beamed and Emma snorted at his enthusiasm.

“Why’d she bring you?” Will said with an air of disgust toward Belle.

“One of us had to have the misfortune of being seated next to you.” The woman replied sarcastically.

“Oh, I like her.” Ruby said with a light clap of her hands.

“Who do we like?” August sounded out of breath as he approached the table.

“Did you run here?” Emma laughed.

“I got lost, again. I don’t think cruise ships are my friend.”

Everyone settled into their seats as the food arrived and introductions were made. Emma found herself enjoying the newcomer’s company. Her brother more than seemed to enjoy Mary Margaret’s attention, which was something no one else had accomplished in many years, the most she had seen him date was a few times with Kathyrn back home. David would return home complaining that her incessant talking the entire evening had put him in a coma.

“So, Emma, what do you do for a living?” Mary Margaret asked her when the dinner arrived.

“I work for August.” She said with a smile in his direction. “I kick the drunks out of the bar when Will gives them too much whiskey.”

“These three are like my kids I suppose.” August looked at Ruby, Will, and herself. “I don’t know what I would do without any of them.”

“Aww, boss, you’re the best.” Ruby cooed.

The longer the conversation went on, the more Emma found herself looking around the room for an exit. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the company, however, her stomach was still turning from earlier and she was tired of making polite conversation.

“If you don’t mind, I need to visit the ladies room.” Emma stood from the table, excusing herself.

Heading out of the dining room, she started to walk back through the ship, however the bright bar at the corner caught her attention and she stepped up to the stool and took a seat. “Can I get something that isn’t served in a fruit.”

The bartender laughed, and set about making her a Cosmo, pushing it toward her.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing sitting alone in the bar?”

“Enjoying my own company.” She growled, looking up to see a dark-haired man in a suit sitting beside her. He was nice looking, but she wasn’t exactly sitting at the bar because she wanted company.

“Walsh.” He extended his hand in her direction and she shook it and turned back to her drink.

“Emma.”

“Are you enjoying the cruise so far?” God was he still talking to her? “This is my third singles cruise.” He said without waiting for her response.

“Three times and yet you’re still single.” She said with a slight mock to her tone.

He leaned in toward her, his breath hot and unwelcome against her neck. “Being single doesn’t mean I’m looking for a relationship.”

Was this guy serious?

“I’m not looking at all.” She said dryly, turning her body away from him. Suddenly she felt his hand on her knee.

“There has to be a reason you’re on this cruise, beautiful.”

She smiled uncomfortably before she felt an arm slip around her waist and soft lips slide against her neck. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you, love.” The familiar voice ignited her entire body, sending shivers down her back. She melted into him, reaching up to slide her palm against his cheek, staring up into sea blue eyes.

“Darling, there you are.” She flashed him her smile before turning back to the man seated at the bar. “Sweetie this is, I’m sorry what was your name again?”

“Walsh, and I was just leaving.” The man scowled as he took his drink and left the bar.

He removed his hand from her waist and she immediately missed the warmth of his body as he sat down in the now vacated stool beside her. “Hope you don’t mind the save, Swan. You looked like you were disinterested in the gentleman’s affection.”

“Thank you.” She said sincerely. “I was about ten seconds away from wasting good alcohol on his fancy jacket.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps I should have waited ten more seconds then.”

The bartender returned to refill her drink and then turned to the man beside her, a nervous jitter suddenly overtaking the woman as she looked at the man. “Oh, sir, I didn’t see it was you, I’m so sorry, can I…”

Killian held up his hand, “just a glass of rum, please.”

“Straight liquor.” She grinned, wondering if perhaps he drank here often. “You’re the type of man I usually end up throwing out of the bar back home.”

“That seems harsh, where is back home, Swan?”

“Boston. I’m a bouncer at a bar. I know, very exciting work.” She laughed. “My boss is the one who actually took us all on this trip.”

“That’s a very nice boss, doesn’t sound like someone who would blackmail an innocent woman.”

“He’s the best boss honestly, just lonely I think.” She said with a laugh, their eyes meeting for a few frozen moments before she shook her head, erasing the hold he seemed to have on her. “Hey, I never got your name.”

“Killian.”

“Nice to meet you Killian, where’s home for you?”

“Most recently, New York.”

“Hmm, so you travel a lot. Let’s see, flight attendant, no, that’s not right.” She looked him up and down. “Construction worker?”

“You’re very bad at this game, Swan.” He held up his hand, and she realized she hadn’t noticed the way he held it closer to his body. “Limited use of my hand, I would be a very dangerous construction worker.” She must have paled because he laughed. “No need to be concerned, I still have proper use of all my other appendages.” She choked on her drink and he reached up to nervously touch his ear with his other hand. “Well, that came out completely inappropriate.”

“You mean you didn’t rehearse that.”

“If I did it wouldn’t have come out like that.” He said with a blush to his cheeks. He picked up his glass and downed the alcohol in the glass and then stood from the bar. “Walk with me?”

“Why not, I’m very curious as to what you’ll say next.” She giggled, immediately cursing herself for acting like a giddy teenager.

Killian led them through the doors to the exit onto the deck. They walked in silence through the moonlit walkways on the outside of the ship, the sound of the water crashing against the hull below them.

“Do you really think if something happened to this ship that we would all fit on these little boats.” She pointed to the life rafts suspended above them.

“Absolutely, did you not listen during muster?”

“I was too busy feeling like I was going to vomit honestly.”

“Ah, I hope you have found your sea legs by now. Sea sickness is nothing to take lightly. I’ve seen it take many a man down.” He paused, concern on his face before he retreated into a lighthearted smile. “However, if you had listened during muster, they would have told you that there are 32 mega life rafts attached to the ship, each fitted to take on 150 passengers. Which is more than enough to handle all the passengers and crew of this ship.”

“You sure do know a lot about this ship.”

He swallowed, “I’m a skipper back home. Of a fishing boat. I know my way around a ship, but I like to know as much as I can about any ship I step foot on.”

“Well, I guess I know who I’ll come find if we start to sink.”

“I assure you, she’s a sound and safe ship. You will have no need to concern yourself with sinking onboard this vessel.”

“Well hopefully we have a skilled Captain to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

He smiled to himself, “I imagine they would not hire an amateur.”

“I wonder which of these boats they put such an important person on if this ship starts to sink.”

“That depends on whether they get everyone else off first. Otherwise, the Captain always goes down with the ship.”

Emma stares at him wide eyed. “That’s just a saying. They wouldn’t honestly expect that of someone.”

“Aye, it is protocol. However, any Captain worthy of his stripes would never leave a man behind.” He said sadly, the face of his brother burning into his memory as he stared out at the ocean before him. “You shouldn’t worry your head about that though, ships of this size are very safe.”

“Ever heard of the Titanic?” She laughed lightly, her bright green eyes glowing in the pale light.

“Much was learned from the sinking of that beast, technology was improved, however, I do not think you are in danger of finding an iceberg on this voyage.”

“Who knew I had such an informed guide. You should do tours while you are on board.” He chuckled, knowing he should tell her that if she signed up for the 10am tour she would find that he joins many of the tours to answer passenger questions.

“Jones, there you are.” Killian and Emma both jumped as Robin approached them. Killian’s eyes went wide, and the man stared at him with confusion. Emma looked between the two of them.

“Do you have the information I requested earlier?” Killian asked and Robin’s nose scrunched and then his eyes narrowed.

“Yes, absolutely, I have that…”

“Billing receipt?”

“Billing receipt, yes because I’m the ship’s purser.” He nodded a bit aggressively with his head and Emma watched them both closely.

“Thank you, I’ll come to your desk to get it shortly.” Robin backed away, staring at Emma with a new curiosity before turning and entering the ship.

“Wow, you must be a big spender if they actually come looking for you to deliver your receipts.”

Killian laughed nervously. “You caught me, VIP right here. I should probably go take care of that.”

He caught the subtle frown on her face before she thanked him for their tour. It excited him that she seemed to be enjoying their short time talking as much as he did. However, he felt guilty not being honest with Ms. Swan about who he was. He knew he was being selfish, but if he was going to have to spend his time onboard watching desperate and hopeful couples hook up, he felt it only fair to get to enjoy the company of the only person who intrigued him here.

Walking her back inside, they parted ways as she returned to the dining room and he headed to the atrium to find Robin.

“What was that?” Robin interrogated him when he approached the desk. “Are you hooking up with that woman?”

“That’s ridiculous, of course not. I was giving her a tour.”

“So, you’re giving personal tours in civvies now?”

“Of course not, but she was getting hit on by some jerk at the bar, I simply rescued her from an embarrassing experience.”

“Uh huh. And then you took her on a tour of your ship.”

“Well, I didn’t tell her it was my ship.”

“She doesn’t know you’re the Captain?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“It didn’t come up?” He repeated incredulously.

“She’s just a passenger I’ve talked to a couple of times.”

“Wait a minute, so she’s just a passenger, who you’ve met a couple of times, while not being the Captain of the ship she’s currently vacationing on.”

“Exactly.” He smirked.

“You like her.” He said with astonishment.

“I do not.” He sang as he turned and walked away from the desk hiding the ridiculous smile growing on his face.

~*~

“My God woman, what did you eat?” Emma stared quizzically at Will as she sat down at the table. “No one takes a piss for that long.”

“Fuck!” She said under her breath, staring egregiously at Will. “I stopped for a drink at the bar.” Emma swore as she grabbed her napkin and put it back in her lap, tapping at her dessert with her fork.

“How long have you two been together?” Belle asked curiously.

“Oh, we aren’t actually dating.” She blurted out and Will stomped on her foot under the table. “Ow.”

“Bugger, woman.”

“I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood, I thought he said you were his girlfriend earlier.” The corner of her lips turned upwards.

Emma stood from the table, looking over at Belle’s drink on the table. “You should ask him to tell you about rum based drinks.” She pointed at Belle’s generic rum cocktail. “He’s brilliant when it comes to picking out cocktails based on your personality.” The woman’s face brightened, and Will groaned.

“Traitor.”

“Live a little, ya bitch.” She kissed him on the cheek and wandered out of the dining hall to retreat to her room.

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Things We Don’t Say (modern AU - Actors)

Summary:  No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit    

Warnings:   This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF 

- or read below the cut - 

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for further updates. 

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4 

Chapter One

Emma scrolled through the email her manager had sent detailing the new role she was being offered. It was something fresh, something different from what she normally focused on—no hint of a police procedural in sight—and based on the tone, it sounded like they were very interested in getting her signed for one of the leads. She stretched her legs out along the couch, digging her cold toes underneath the pillows in search of some warmth, only to yank them back when she encountered something both crinkly and wet.

“Dammit, Neal! What the hell is this?” she growled, glaring at the brown sludge coating her foot.

She leaned forward, careful to angle her toes away from any other surface, and peeled the throw pillow from the couch. Smeared across the white fabric and the expensive leather was what looked like the remainder of a milky way bar, the wrapper still clinging to the puddle of caramel and chocolate.

“You have got to be kidding me. Neal!”

The only response she got was the sound of something hitting a pan full of oil in the kitchen, the apartment filled with the sizzling hiss of something frying. Dropping her phone and forgetting all about the email she’d just been reading, she hobbled down the hall into the bathroom to clean up, wondering how in the hell to get out a chocolate and caramel stain. Why he couldn’t just learn to clean up after himself was beyond understanding. Sometimes it felt like she was living with a teenager who never wanted to grow up, and she couldn’t help but long for the days when her apartment was clean and didn’t smell like whatever weird odor it was that Neal always brought home—grease and cigarette smoke, maybe.

Her foot finally clean enough to be walked on, she headed into the kitchen to get some paper towels only to be greeted by what looked like every dish she owned spread out on the counters and island. Every surface was dusted in flour and drips of batter, measuring spoons leaving trails of oil and sugar across the floor and counters alike.

“Oh my god,” she cringed, knowing the mess would be left for her. “What are you doing?”

“I was wondering when you’d get off the phone,” Neal poked, giving her a quick glance over his shoulder before motioning proudly over the mess that just seemed to get worse each time she looked at it. “I’m cooking.”

The casual way he always stabbed at her phone use was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have to spend so much time working if he bothered looking for something himself. He’d had a recurring role on a family comedy when they met, but he’d been fired not long after, and for the last six months, Emma was pretty sure he hadn’t even gone to any of the auditions she’d mentioned. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if he had an agent anymore. 

“When was the last time you had a Milky Way?” she asked, choosing to ignore his snide comment. She just wasn’t in the mood.

“That’s a weird question. I don’t know, maybe last week? You didn’t pick any up the last time you ran to the store.”

Emma nodded, her lips drawn tight as she tore paper towels from the rack and returned to the living room, pulling what she could of the melted mass from the couch and thinking she’d need to resort to Google to get the rest out. Her anger bubbled with every sticky string of caramel that wrapped around her fingers. Why couldn’t he go to the store on his day off? He only had seven of them. She stomped back into the kitchen, hitting the garbage can a little harder than necessary and tossing the mess of chocolate and paper inside.

There was just enough room in the overload sink—what had he used the colander for—that she could wash her hands.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge. What was so important that you had to turn the entire kitchen into a complete disaster?” she questioned, already adding up how much time it would take her to wash and wipe everything down.

She’d be lucky if she was able to get back to her manager before tomorrow as requested.

“You remember that travel show we watched the other night?” he prodded, his eyes glued to the pan as it hissed on the stovetop, a spatula held ready in his hand. “You mentioned you hadn’t had good churros since that trip to Mexico, so I thought maybe I’d make you some.”

The anger that had been just about to boil over slipped away to that place far enough below everything else that she could just go back to ignoring it.  

“Neal,” she sighed, suddenly more exhausted than anything else. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Ems—anything for you.”

In the living room her phone blared to life, the dark tones of The Imperial March echoing as it vibrated across the coffee table.

“Work calls,” Neal sniped, a trace of resentment running beneath the pleasant smile he fixed in her direction. “Wouldn’t want to keep Regina waiting.”

It was amazing how quickly that anger came right back to the top of everything, and she found her feet pushing her as far away from Neal as possible, snatching her phone from the table and forgetting entirely about the couch as she stormed into the bedroom.

“What?” she hissed, slamming the door behind her and clenching the cell like it was something she wanted to crush. “What is so important that you couldn’t give me a few more hours, Regina?”

The other end of the line was silent, as if Regina had either hung up, or was waiting for an apology. Well, she wasn’t getting one—not today.

“Is there something you needed, Regina?”

“Are you okay?” Regina asked, not as a friend, but as an employee that was curious to know how soon she would have to contact Emma’s PR team and inform them a mental breakdown was imminent.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bad time. I got the details you sent. I just haven’t read through everything yet.”

“Well, that explains why I haven’t heard from you. Honestly, I thought you cared more about your career than that. I was quite clear this was urgent. Don’t take your time with this one, Miss Swan—they want you, but they can’t wait much longer.”

The line went dead after Regina had delivered her scolding and Emma sighed, dropping to the bed and rolling onto her back as she flicked back into her email and started again from the top. It was an interesting premise with even more depth than she’d originally thought—a new series that centered on the mental health of a man who had developed delusions after a car accident that took his brother, leading him to believe everyone in the hospital was a character from a fairy tale world—but then she got the part that Regina really focused on, the money.

“Holy shit!” Emma gasped, double checking the figures and thinking how she’d never seen such a good offer—not for someone in her bracket. It was unheard of. “I guess they really do want me.”

It wasn’t until she read through the rest of the itinerary and details that she wondered if the big paycheck wasn’t recompense for the filming location and duration—the middle of Nowhere, Maine, as if Maine wasn’t already considered the middle of nowhere.

She read everything twice before she shot Regina a quick text.  

E: I’ll take it

The message had only just sent and there were already three ellipses following. Emma could practically hear her manager’s smug response.

R: I knew you would. I’ll be in touch.

There should have been nerves fluttering in her stomach, or at least a solid pit of dread at the prospect of having to walk into the kitchen and tell Neal, but there was nothing. It was a big decision to move across the country for what could be a long-term role, but it was still her decision to make.

Hopefully, he would be happy for her, he would understand that this had the potential of lifting her out of her rut and providing great income for the foreseeable future. There were some great names attached, veterans of the industry that were looking to branch out into a new genre.

She was excited for the first time in a long time.  

She didn’t need to feel guilty, at least that was what she told herself as a niggling pang of guilt worked its way into her chest.

It would be good to break it to him gently though, to put a good spin on it.

The minutes ticked by and she finally realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she wandered into the kitchen, her arms crossed in front of her as she looked for him, but the apartment was empty. The stove was turned off and a plate, probably the last clean one, was waiting on the counter with a pile of golden churros perched on top of a greasy paper towel.

Next to it was another torn paper towel with a note scratched onto it in sharpie.

The boys called and I’m heading out for a few beers. Don’t wait up. Enjoy the churros.

She waited for the anger to bubble back to the top, but there was nothing—no anger, no guilt, just a deep, hollow nothingness that grew and yawned as she fingered the scrap of a note transparent with oily fingerprints. Feeling like maybe this job had come at the best possible time, she picked up the plate of churros and walked over to the trash, watching them slide in with the rest of the garbage.