#but not really doing a ton for fortnight that I can see

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Was just thinking about how different the rollout for TTPD has been, like how there’s been next to no promo other thank sparing social media and how (at least so far) the only single they’ve pushed is Fortnight and how the records they’re chasing seem to be album focuzed, and it strikes me again how it really was crafted as An Album Experience. It was one story, as messy and chaotic and heartbreaking and euphoric as it was, and it just kinda feels to me like that was the whole point.

She could have started pushing more singles and videos (and who knows, maybe she will) but my guess is that this is how TTPD is going to be left in the record books. She needed to write it and she needed to release it and she thus became this anthology — a collection of works about a period of her life — and it’s kind of standing on its own. It’s just super interesting both creatively and from a business perspective.

[54625]

You wake up from a very long and exhausting dream. It's late November, 2023. QSMP is alive and well, it seems. The server is full of life every single day, at least 15 separate people logging in per week. Mariana, Rubius, Felps, Lenay, German, Carre and Kameto all play often if not full time. Wilbur and Forever were never even part of the server, and Lullah was only added because the admins thought it would be funny to make Phil take care of two children instead of one. Cellbit's murdering fed workers arc is in full swing, perfectly incorporating the storylines of so many people like Bagi, Roier, Pac, and Foolish, tying them all together. Slimecicle's code corruption arc is building too, and it looks like the story will be having its climax soon. There are cultural events all the time still, and so many more that are planned for the future have already been announced. Fit and Pac are still in slow burn mode, and really hard selling it.

"What?" You say, lost. "What happened to purgatory, wasn't that in November?" You ask.

"What are you talking about? Do you mean the competitive QSMP adjacent series that happens every couple of months, involving tons of international creators, completely unrelated to QSMP lore, that QSMP creators can choose to take part in if they want to?" Says the community.

Well that's strange. Not quite how I remember it, you think. "What about the workers? Their mistreatment?" You worry.

"Mistreatment? Of workers?" The QSMP fans laugh, "most of the QSMP admins have come out on their public social media accounts that they're allowed to have about how fun it is to work for Quackity Studios; how easy the workload is, how reasonable the pay is, and how appreciated they feel! Communication between all admins, CCs, and management is apparently really streamlined, and they address all problems so efficiently! Did you know that recently they realised that they didn't have enough French speaking admins, and so immediately went and sought more to hire?"

"Okay..." You're more than a little confused, "what about the eggs?"

"The eggs? You mean the dragons?" You get a figurative nudge and a wink. "Did you really never see? It was big news and happened a couple of months back; the eggs all went missing for a short while - about a fortnight - but it was then revealed that they went away to find somewhere to hide so they could hatch! The players all went to find them and they had all hatched into little dragons (unique models and all) and it was quite emotional. Now there are no tasks and they can't die, and they aren't around all of the time, but they visit often!"

Huh, you think. Maybe it was all just a bad dream.

[bllkrarepairweek]

Our #BLLKRPW 2024 Round Up is here!

A million thanks to everyone who participated this year, our second year of BLLK Rare Pair Week! 🫶 This year was even bigger than our first, both in number of days and in terms of submissions! In addition to some familiar faces from last year, we also got a ton of new folks joining us and together, you all created 59 works and 5 new rarepair tags on AO3!!! 🥳

Our poly ships also got some love this year which was great to see! ❤️

With more rarepairs than ever, we've put together a little survey just to get a sense of what's working for everyone in terms of prompts, event structure and ofc to gauge general availability for next year's event! The survey will be open for a week so please fill out as soon as you can!

Additionally, if you want to keep up with events in the BLLK fandom (some really great ones coming up!) go follow our Event Hub @bllkeventshub (you can also follow us on twt)

Now onto the round-up!!! (Added under 'read more' for length - please let us know if any links are broken/wrong)**

**Please note that many authors on this list have their fics locked to registered users so this will affect how the collection looks to anyone not logged in. If anyone wants to make an AO3 acct and needs an invitation, please feel free to reach out to us, mods have a number of invitations! Now go and give our rarepair creators all the love! 🥰

Day 1 (Roommates/Cooking + Baking/"You talk in your sleep.")

Art: 'bbq date' by @sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'the same (but kinda different)' by @kae-karo - Nanase/Rin

Fic: 'fortnight' by @tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'when in Rome' by Not_who_u_think - Otoya/Karasu

Fic: 'Used to it' by yuzuwakano - Kiyora/Niko

Fic: 'i think i saw you in my sleep' by luxxxio - Shidou/Chigiri

Fic: 'a taste of sweetness' by xynzel - Hiori/Nanase/Isagi

Fic: 'Random Roommates and Coffee' by RyleeWyatt - Barou/Chigiri

Fic: 'i'm in the mood to pay attention to you' by HiShark - Kaiser/Raichi

Fic: 'Bad Taste' by tangerinelighter - Karasu/Shidou

Fic: 'curry hearts' by @takeunknownroadnow - Rin/Isagi/Bachira

Art: 'baking' by mymeadowismade - Raichi/Isagi [twt]

Day 2 (Merfolk + Pirates/Beach Episode/"Seeing you in a wet T-shirt is its own reward.")

Fic: 'you slipped away into my prominence' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'the most important part of boat ownership' by kae_karo - Karasu/Shidou

Fic: 'Shark Teeth' by yuzuwakano - Kiyora/Kurona

Art: 'pirates&mermaids' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Art: 'wet t-shirt' by useless_donut - Raichi/Aiku [twt]

Fic: 'Crimson' by RyleeWyatt - Barou/Chigiri

Fic: 'let us randezvous' by xynzel - Hiori/Kurona

Art: 'beach day for the boys' by @getosugurusbangs - Hiori/Reo [tumblr}

Day 3 (Academia/Meet Cute + Meet Ugly/"How much will it take for you to kiss me?")

Fic: 'Wicked Game' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'come the white wine, bitter sunlight' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Reo

Art: 'academia' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'kids say the darnedest things' by kae_karo - Bachira/Kunigami

Fic: 'November' by RyleeWyatt - Barou/Chigiri

Art: 'Rinness Attack' by @nieznajomy-na-bagnie [tumblr} - Rin/Ness

Fic: 'tongues tongues tongues' by tangerinedarker - Karasu/Kiyora

Day 4 (Cowboys + Western/Secret Identity/"There are easier ways of getting my attention.")

Fic: 'sterling reputation for gold' by kae_karo - Shidou/Reo

Fic: 'Lazy Night' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'endless sky to dive into' by bluemoonjupiter - Chigiri/Karasu

Art: 'Cowboys' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'Cats and Missing Persons' by RyleeWyatt - Barou/Chigiri

Fic: 'The Masked Bandit of Blue Loch' by tangerinedarker - Kunigami/Chigiri/Reo

Fic: 'i wasn't watching (and neither were you)' by starsquared - Kiyora/Himizu

Day 5 (Bodyguard/Reunions/"For you, anything.")

Fic: 'Let the Games Begin' by smallweirdo - Bachira/Ness

Fic: 'what were YOU doing at the underground fight club?' by kae-karo - Aiku/Barou

Fic: 'from a star on hallowed ground' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Art: 'Bodyguard' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi [twt] [tumblr}

Day 6 (E-Sports + Streamers/Social Media Interactions/"You weren't supposed to see that.")

Fic: 'Bleed the Past' by @blobbyfics - Barou/Kunigami

Art: 'you weren't supposed to see that' by MissSleepless12 (collab w kae-karo)- Barou/Chigiri [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'How to Ship Hazardous Materials' by kae-karo (collab w MissSleepless12) - Barou/Chigiri

Fic: 'an offline event gone right' by tsukkinoneko - Hiori/Shidou

Fic: 'Hanging by a Thread' by sid3buns - Barou/Isagi

Fic: 'rosy maple' by strawberrylemonade1225 - Shidou/Bachira

Day 7 (Pacific Rim + Drifting/Didn't Know They Were Dating/"I don't want to do this without you.")

Art: 'didn't know they were dating' by MissSleepless12 (collab w kae-karo) - Karasu/Kaiser [twt] [tumblr}

Fic: 'in the interim' by kae-karo (collab w MissSleepless12) - Karasu/Kaiser

Fic: 'how hard I tried to breathe through the trees of loneliness' by tsukkinoneko - Chigiri/Rin

Day 8 (Free Day + Past Prompts)

Fic: 'Well At Least He's Easy (to break up with)' by useless_donut - Aiku/Raichi

Art: 'chp 2 sneak peek' (NSFW) by useless_donut - Aiku/Raichi [twt]

Fic: 'Besame, estoy abburido' (Spanish) // 'Kiss me, I'm bored' (English) by BilingualShipper - Otoya/Himizu

Fic: 'getting tipsy' by aikusagist - Aiku/Isagi

Fic: 'the first who ever did' by aikusagist - Aiku/Isagi

Fic: 'paging nurse yoichi' by Not_who_u_think - Aiku/Isagi

Fic: 'i can't help it, your taste so seductive' by tsukkinoneko - Kaiser/Rin

Fic: 'Card-Carrying Member of the "Fuck Isagi Yoichi" Club' by kae-karo - Kaiser/Kira

Fic: 'Three is a Charm' by MissSleepless12 - Rin/Isagi/Bachira

Fic: 'pull me closer (and kiss me harder)' by takeunknownroadnow - Barou/Nagi

Fic: 'fashion-forward' by bluemoonjupiter - Barou/Chigiri

[lyrakanefanatic]

how do you feel about ttpd now !!

OMG THIS IS LATE BUT I TOTALLY DID NOT SEE THIS IM SORRY!!! 😭😭

also yes the first time i listened to ttpd I didnt like it, but now a LOT of the songs are starting to grow on me, and although i still don’t rlly like i can do it with a broken heart, i like it more than i did before. so far my fav songs on the album are loml, (the outro is so sad 😭😭💔) guilty as sin, who’s afraid of little old me, fortnight, and the tortured poets department. i have still not listened to the entirety of the anthology, but so far i really like peter too! there are also a ton of other songs that i didn’t like that have grown on me, and i think taylor did a rlly good job on the album 🫶🫶 (and im so sorry that im replying a full month late i genuinely forget to check my inbox a TON 😭😭)

[whiskeyswifty]

saw a post saying taylor should submit her non-singles for SOTY at the grammys and that got me thinking, do you see The Black Dog being a Cruel Summer 2.0 in terms of impact well beyond the album cycle?

hmmmm ok so first off, i totally agree she should break out of the industry standard and submit more tracks for soty, if she isn't already. (although idk how if given the option, the academy would pick fortnight lol). Mainly because all swifties can tell you that famously, her more genpop-geared singles aren't always the strongest contenders compared to the masterpieces on the rest of her albums, especially for a category specifically about songwriting. but also, there is no max number of songs an artist can submit so she could submit multiple and not be penalized. there is a strategy i'm sure, like with all awards campaigning, where you want a balance between predicting a pool of what will be received the best and have the best awards roi, but not overwhelming the voters with options so they split the votes and you get nothing. you only get a fraction of the voter's time so you want to use that time wisely to make the best impression. but figuring that out is someone else's job, not mine, and i'm not envious.

I don’t think the black dog will have a cruel summer rise for a few reasons. One, because it is a bonus track and, as far as we know was never was intended to be a single. cruel summer was intended to be a single so it always had the juice it just got cut off by the pandemic. Two, the main reason cruel summer had an organic rise was because of the tour and how it opens the tour and has become emblematic of it. it was a favorite among fans yes but the tour really sent it to the stratosphere. Black dog isn’t even on the set list, and I would estimate she’s going to enter a period of respite if not reclusion after this crazy couple of years she’s had. So there’s not really anything to buoy the song moving forward like CS was.

If I were to try and chart a path for its to get its due, it’s more in line with ATW and atw10 or new romantics. for the latter, that was once again a song that is upbeat and popular and was utilized as a tour anthem for the 1989 tour. there is no ttpd tour, so there isn't really a platform for it to shine on it's own, though. for the former, that song's long tail was due to it being praised for it's artistic merits and highly ranked among critics for a long time, despite her releasing several albums after that. and it was beloved by fans and held up as the pinnacle of her work for 10 years, the extent of which was unbeknownst to even her. however, a big piece of that song's ultimate revival was the multigenerational lore of the 10 minute version which made reviving it fresh and new for old and new fans. the black dog doesn't have any of that. it's kind of a niche fan favorite, which is where most taylor songs live that are not widely agreed upon or heralded, and it'll likely stay that way. even now, it's not a huge breakout song on it's own album among the fans, so i don't see it having a ton of juice longterm. which is fine! ATW and CS are outliers, and when a song grips the fans, you can usually tell almost instantly. i think the last song i would say that had that kind of mass adoration and electrifying effect is August, if you wanted something to compare it to. which is not a value judgement at all! i love the black dog, but it just doesn't have that same juice from what i can tell, i'm sorry to say.

[underswitch-official]

CH2 P1

Everything is very white. As my eyes adjust, Asriel notices a camera hidden in the bushes. I see a path and run down it as fast as I can. I walk around a pretty thick stick, and after a few footsteps, it snaps. A few seconds later, I swear I hear footsteps behind me, and Asriel sees the silhouette of a tall skeleton. I run as fast as I can and reach a really big gate. I freeze in place as I hear more footsteps behind me.

" H u m a n .  D o n ' t  y o u  k n o w  h o w  t o   g r e e t  a  n e w  p a l?  T u r n  a r o u n d  a n d  s h a k e  m y  h a n d . "

I turn around slowly, and there's the silhouette that Asriel saw. They extend their hand in greeting, and I accept it. A whoopee cushion goes off, and the light reveals the skeleton.

"nyeh heh heh, the ol' whoopee cushion in the hand trick. it's always funny," the skeleton says.

I can't contain my laughter for very long, and Asriel moans.

The skeleton has a golden hoodie and grayish brown sweatpants.

"anyway, youre a human, right? that's hilarious. im papyrus, papyrus the skeleton. im supposed to be on watch for humans right now, but… y'know… i don't really care about capturing anybody. now my brother, sans, is a human-hunting FANATIC. hey, actually, i think that's him over there. ive an idea. go through this gate thingy. yeah, go right through. my bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone."

Papyrus ushers me through and leads me to a station of sorts with two snow rocks and a snowmonster.

"quick, behind that conveniently-sized snowmonster," he says. I run behind it, and Asriel says, "*It's a good thing this snowmonster is bigger than you, or else it wouldn't be a very good hiding place."

I nod and watch as a shorter skeleton angrily stomps forth.

"sup, bro?" Papyrus says casually.

"YOU KNOW WHAT 'SUP,' BROTHER! IT'S BEEN OVER A FORTNIGHT, AND YOU STILL HAVEN'T RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! YOU JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?!?" Sans rants.

"staring at this snowmonster. its really cool. do you wanna look?" Papyrus replies.

"NO!! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT!!" Sans says as he stomps angrily. "WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH HERE!?! I WANT TO BE READY!!! I WILL BE THE ONE, I MUST BE THE ONE! I WILL CAPTURE A HUMAN!"

Sans stops stomping and poses with his hand on his chest. His light blue scarf-cape-thing billows despite there not being any wind. "THEN, I, THE EXCELLENT SANS, WILL GET EVERYTHING I UTTERLY DESERVE! RESPECT… RECOGNITION… I WILL FINALLY BE ABLE TO JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD! PEOPLE WILL ASK… TO BE MY… 'BUD?' " Sans looks like he's starting to get nervous, or confused, or both, "I WILL BATHE IN A SHOWER OF KISSES EVERY MORNING?"

"hmm…" Papyrus says. "maybe this snowmonster will help you."

"PAPYRUS!!" Sans shouts. "YOU ARE NOT HELPING!! YOU LAZYBONES!! ALL YOU DO IT SIT AND BONEDOGGLE! YOU GET LAZIER AND LAZIER EVERY DAY!!!" He blasts the snowmonster with a laser, and my helmet shatters. I curl up into a ball, and Sans doesn't notice me.

"hey, take it easy. ive gotten a ton of work done today. a skel-ton," Papyrus says. Out of nowhere, a set of drums plays badum tss.

"PAPYRUS!!!"

"come on. youre smiling."

"I'M ALWAYS SMILING! SIGH… WHY DOES SOMEONE AS EXCELLENT AS ME HAVE TO DO SO MUCH JUST TO GET SOME RECOGNITION?"

"wow, sounds like youre really working yourself… down to the bone." Once again, the drums play badum tss.

"UGH!!! I WILL ATTEND TO MY PUZZLES. AS FOR YOUR WORK? PUT A LITTLE MORE… BACKBONE INTO IT!!!! TYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!! … HEH!" Sans leaves and Papyrus says, "you okay, bud?"

I stand up and nod, then go to Papyrus to try and talk to him. Before I can say anything, he says, "you oughta get going. he might come back, and if he does, youll have to sit through more of my hilarious jokes."

I mumble nervously and shuffle closer to Papyrus.

"whats the holdup? look, theres nothin to be afraid of. it's just a dark cavern filled with funny skeletons and horrible monsters," he says with a wink.

I chuckle and start to leave. Just as I'm about to leave this section, Papyrus stops me and says, "actually, hey… hate to bother ya, but can you do me a favor? i was thinking… my brother's been kinda down lately… hes never seen a human before, and seeing you might just make his day. dont worry, hes only dangerous when he isnt trying, and that almost never happens. thanks a million. ill be up ahead." He walks in the wrong direction, but I don't pay attention to that. I go to the next section, and the first thing I see is another orange star. "*Those are called save points," Asriel says.

I touch the save point and the message this time is:

*The convenience of that snowmonster still fills you with Determination.

[qqueenofhades]

For the spooky prompts, "Violent Thunderstorms" for Fivan perhaps? 😳

Anonymous asked: Heyyy 2 Vampire for fivan (how to ask for the chapter 2 witout asking for chap 2)

Anonymous asked: Fivan and #2 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Very well, I see what the people want, and that is a sequel to this one-shot. I have thus combined these prompts for reasons.

Fedyor spends the next fortnight attempting – with notably indifferent success – not to think about Ivan Sakharov. The Conclave was less than pleased to hear that Fedyor came back empty-handed, having not even secured a promise for Ivan and the rest of the Black Hand to leave off their mischief-making, and in fact has empowered them in their belief that there is nothing the law can do to them. Considering the earful that Fedyor got on that accord, he saw nothing to be gained from mentioning that not only did Ivan blow him off completely, he did it after he had fed on him. It’s entirely possible that Ivan accessed sensitive thoughts, memories, or plans, any scrap of useful intelligence that Fedyor did not carefully hide away in his mind before that too-distracting bite. In short, he has comprehensively botched the entire situation, the Conclave is well within their rights to be very angry with him, and to demonstrate the extent of their displeasure, they have temporarily revoked Fedyor’s right to enter their territory and feed on their drones – willing humans kept for the purpose, who are hoping to be selected for the transformation in exchange for their service. That means if Fedyor wants to eat, he has to go out and hunt an animal, or bamboozle and beguile an unwitting passerby to let him chomp on their neck. Truly, being a vampire can be such a terrible drag.

Fedyor figures that if he keeps his head down, meekly accepts his punishment, and doesn’t make any trouble, the Conclave will get over their anger and reinstate him sooner rather than later. It’s not like he has many other options. If he wants to stay in Belgrade, he will remain in their good graces, and he has no desire to get mixed up with the Black Hand. The rumor is that they were founded by the Black Heretic himself, who has remained out of sight for many decades but is now said to be active again, and the Black Heretic is the scion of the Conclave’s greatest enemy, the vampire that all other vampires fear. Absolutely no good can come of throwing one’s lot in with that crowd, and Fedyor wonders if he is going to have to find a new home. If a stupid supernatural war blows up this city, he’s out.

Most of the fortnight passes without incident, but the flaw in the plan is the unfortunate fact that Fedyor is very hungry. He’s still a young enough vampire that he can’t go two weeks without feeding, and he really hates the messy business of corralling an unwitting human. Besides, the Conclave’s headquarters and chief place of business are on Knez Mihailova Ulica, the most fashionable downtown district right in the middle of Belgrade, and what with Fedyor’s current banishment from the premises, he can’t go there anyway. Hunting it has to be.

Fedyor waits until it is dark, a soft summer rain pattering on the steep-roofed eaves and glowing streetlamps, and then, having changed into clothing more suitable for getting a lot of bloodstains, he slips out. He moves silently in the shadows, past the well-dressed gentlemen and evening-gowned ladies out at the ball or the opera or the latest society supper-party, and escapes the precincts of Belgrade proper for the low green hills that surround it. This is on the Sava side of the river confluence, to the west, and once Fedyor is out of the city, the trees close in thickly. They are only broken by the occasional tiny village: small churches with square steeples and double-branched Orthodox crosses, red-tiled cottages crowded together along narrow dirt lanes, a lantern burning here and there to keep the monsters away. Fedyor can hear human voices, sense the shadows of people moving around behind the shutters, and it gives him a pang. No wonder he is clinging so closely to the prospect of timely reinstatement to the Conclave. Without them, he would truly be entirely alone.

The rain starts to come down harder as Fedyor climbs through the thick green underbrush, and by the time he reaches the top of the hill, it is slicing into his face with a vehemence that even a vampire finds intensely disagreeable. Squinting and swearing under his breath, Fedyor shields his eyes and takes a deep whiff, searching for the scent of a prey animal. He could always hop a fence and grab a cow, but cows can kick surprisingly hard, a poor farmer doesn’t need the hassle of his one beast of burden keeling over, and maybe it is just the city-boy aesthete in Fedyor, but crouching in a muddy farmyard, doing your damndest not to get murdered by a large and angry bovine while you valiantly attempt to suck its blood, is just fucking terrible. There’s nothing to recommend it. Now that he’s out of the fledgling bloodlust, Fedyor has no intention of ever going back.

Thunder booms overhead, making him jump, and a jagged spear of lightning sears the horizon from sky to ground. A tree not that far away lights up in blinding white, and a scorched scent of ozone drifts through the pounding rain. Fedyor flinches, as he has no desire to be set on fire, and decides that either he raids a farm or he heads back home and waits for better weather. But he can catch another scent just ahead, and he’s hungry enough to risk it. He breaks into a run, almost loses his footing, dodges around an enormous dripping tree, and spots a thin crescent of lights high on the bluff ahead. Wait, is that a house? Some Serbian royal bureaucrat’s elegant country retreat, or – something else? Fedyor doesn’t recall that he has seen it before, although he has not spent much time out here alone. That, or –

He has only a split second of warning, his supernatural senses screaming at him to get the fuck out of here right now, before he realizes two things at once: first, that the scent is very definitely hostile, and second, that something is dive-bombing directly toward him, on the strength of a ferocious leap that is remarkable even for a vampire. The next second, it – he – hits Fedyor like a ton of bricks, and they go crashing down the slope, kicking and thrashing and biting at each other in a flurry of blows too fast for a human eye to see. Another enormous clap of thunder rattles Fedyor’s fangs in his head, he slams down on his back hard enough to break his bones if he was human, and then, in the flash of the succeeding lightning bolt, his eyes confirm what his nose has already told him. Of all the stupid, stupid things, he appears to have unwittingly trespassed onto Black Hand territory and tried to hunt their game, and the angry supernatural soldier determined to beat the unholy tarnation out of him is therefore none other than the one and only –

“Stop!” Fedyor wheezes, although he has no idea why he expects it to make any difference. “It’s me! Fedyor Kaminsky! From Terazije!”

The rain stings his eyes hard enough to make him grimace, just as a third incandescent bolt of lightning rattles across the sky. From what Fedyor can see, which is not very much, Ivan looks almost as startled as he feels. They remain staring at each other, their faces barely an inch apart, Ivan’s fangs bared in a way that it is really not the time to find disturbingly attractive. Then Ivan springs off and barks, “What the fuck are you doing out here, Conclave whore?”

“Sorry.” Fedyor sits up. His dark hair is plastered to his head and getting in his eyes, there is mud all over his clothes, and even for an immortal who technically does not need to breathe, he is winded. Ivan, to nobody’s surprise, really packs a punch. “I was just… hungry.”

“You have your own arrangements.” Ivan eyes him suspiciously, arms folded, rainwater running down that magnificently disdainful Slavic nose as if from a statue in the public square. “If anyone besides me had caught you out here, you would be dead.”

Well, that is (not) encouraging. It does, however, point out the fact that Ivan has already had the chance to murder him and held back, and Fedyor is not about to speculate on why exactly that might be. It’s not a good idea, but he’s wet, hungry, has just had to unexpectedly fight like the dickens, and irritated at Ivan for being the one who got him into this mess in the first place. “The Conclave demanded that I return their visiting card,” he says shortly. “I’m not allowed to feed on their drones for some unspecified length of time – which is, I might add, entirely thanks to you.”

“What? Why is that my fault?”

“In case you’ve forgotten our last meeting,” Fedyor snaps, “it was at the Golden Cross, on the Lumière brothers’ film night. I relayed the Conclave’s warning to stop your illegal behavior and associations, and you completely ignored it. As a result – ”

“What, they cut off your feeding access?” Ivan interrupts. He looks utterly incredulous. “That’s charitable of them. A good way to build loyalty among your people. Besides, what the fuck did they expect? That you would walk up and ask me nicely, and that would solve it?”

He does, Fedyor has to loathingly admit, have a point. The best he can muster is, “The Conclave is accustomed to being obeyed.”

Ivan eyes him up, with an expression on his face as if that riposte is so pathetic, he isn’t going to dignify it with the effort of a reply. He is poised on edge, as if he doesn’t consider this matter to be entirely settled by the previous bout of violence, and Fedyor is equally tense. He very much does not want to scuffle with a Black Hand hardman who looks like that and fights like that, especially in the throes of encroaching frenzy, and the attendant loss of control. His fangs dig into his lower lip, seeking out the nearest blood – his own – and Fedyor clenches his fists. “Do you have an animal I can borrow?” he asks, as politely as he can. “I’ll – pay for it.”

Ivan surveys him up and down, dripping like an undead drowned rat and otherwise looking as miserable as Fedyor generally tries not to look (after all, presentation is everything). Then he jerks up an impatient fist. “Follow me.”

Fedyor is unsure what this might entail, but shamefully – whether it is due to his increasingly desperate hunger, or something else – he is not altogether opposed to it. He trails after Ivan, trying not to slip in the wet grass or fixate on Ivan’s scent; he will just get another smackdown for his trouble, like a horse flicking aside a fly, and he is not in the mood for it. After a climb of a few minutes, they reach the top of the hill and cross a deserted lawn to a manor house, scattered lights flickering in steep gables and pointed turrets. It is otherwise entirely dark, even to Fedyor’s vampire senses, as Ivan unlatches the heavy front door and drags it open with a screech. “In.”

Well aware that this is an even stupider idea than the polite request to knock it off – he is putting himself voluntarily in the power of a Black Hand operative, on enemy territory, where nobody knows where he is or what Ivan intends to do with him. If Fedyor’s drained corpse turns up floating in the Danube tomorrow, a warning to the Conclave never to interfere in their business again, he can’t say that he didn’t expect it. He hesitates at the threshold a moment longer, and then, given permission – it’s not essential, but it does help – steps inside.

The hall looks almost exactly as you would expect a secret vampire mansion to look: dusty suits of armor, glowering paintings, a sweeping grand staircase with a gothic balcony, and a chandelier which struggles to illuminate the cracked black-and-white chessboard flagstones. Still dripping, the thunder dulling to a muted rumble, Fedyor looks warily from side to side. There doesn’t seem to be anyone here except the two of them – or at least, he certainly hopes that there are no unwitting humans asleep upstairs. In the state that he’s in right now, he isn’t sure that he could control himself. Unless Ivan is trying to make some tiresome point about the inherent monstrosity of vampires, the sort that certain factions like to use in order to argue against the Conclave’s attempts to civilize them and make them follow human-like rules and laws. Fedyor hopes not, because that would be deeply irritating, but he’s so hungry that he’s about to bite his own wrist, and it would not be his finest hour.

However, Ivan does not lead them upstairs, but through a dim warren of corridors to a small, curtained study in the back of the house. Sullen embers glimmer in the hearth; vampires don’t need fires for heat, or to see by, but the human habit is hard to break, even if it’s one of the few things that can hurt them. Then Ivan shuts the door behind them and says crisply, “I’ll make you a deal. Give me useful information on the Conclave, and I will let you feed.”

“What?” Fedyor gapes at him. That was clearly a starvation-induced hallucination. “On – on you?”

“No,” Ivan snaps. “On the davenport, you idiot. Yes, obviously on me. Or I can throw you out and send you to try your luck in the nearest village. Yes or no?”

Fedyor continues to gape at him. Obviously he does not want to go and rip some screaming innocent villager out of their bed, like the very worst of the strigoi horror stories, but he is not in a hurry to jeopardize his ticket back to the Conclave’s good graces by informing on them to Ivan bloody Sakharov. (Indeed, literally.) Did Ivan make that offer because he knows that Fedyor wants it, and remembers how much of a reaction Fedyor had to Ivan feeding on him back at the Golden Cross? It was impossible to hide it entirely, blast him, and Ivan is too canny not to take advantage of an adversary’s weakness. He’s caught Fedyor dead to rights, trespassing on Black Hand territory, and as he himself said, Fedyor is lucky to escape with his skin. It’s Ivan’s right to exploit that fact, nothing more. If Fedyor refuses, what in the hell is he going to do?

“I don’t know,” he stalls. “I’m not sure that I can – ”

Ivan shrugs, then lifts his own wrist to his mouth and bites the back of it. Slow, rich, dark blood beads up, and he wafts it temptingly in Fedyor’s direction. “So, you don’t want this, then?”

Yes, Fedyor wants it. Fedyor, in fact, wants a few other things while he’s at it, and there is no way that Ivan, with hearing and senses and smell as acute as his own, doesn’t know it. He takes a step forward, but Ivan dances aside. “Information first,” he orders. “Then you may have your reward. Come now, Conclave whore. Why is it any different from last time?”

“Don’t call me that.” Fedyor is seeing red – which, at this point, could be due to just about anything. “I have a name, remember? Fedyor – Mikhailovich – Kaminsky.”

He stumbles a little over the patronymic, as it is an ongoing debate whether proper etiquette for Slavic vampires entails the use of the birth father’s name, or that of the vampire sire. Opinion generally comes down on the side of the latter, since it represents proper respect for one’s new immortal status and supernatural bloodline; you’re supposed to let go of your human family, since pining to go back complicates the already-difficult adjustment period and is impossible anyway. But since Fedyor isn’t entirely reconciled to it, and tries to hold onto his humanity, he tends to introduce himself as Fedyor Mikhailovich, not Fedyor Dmitrievich, and the flicker in Ivan’s eyes means that he has taken note of that struggle. Then he shrugs, crooking a taunting finger at him. “Fine then, Fedyor Mikhailovich. It is your choice.”

“What do you – ” Fedyor is having trouble seeing straight. “Want to know?”

“Anything that might be useful.” If he is worried about being shut in a small room with another vampire on the verge of total frenzy, Ivan doesn’t show it. Indeed, in this paramount confidence and command, Fedyor realizes that Ivan is much older than he initially thought. He took him for one of Catherine the Great’s courtiers, from the late eighteenth century or so, but the well-worn shadow of violence that sits on Ivan’s shoulders is of considerably longer use than that. It’s something else to puzzle out when Fedyor regains the use of his higher critical faculties, which is definitely not the case at the moment. “That is, if you can bring yourself to actually – ”

At that moment, he is cut off as Fedyor, deciding that two can play this game and he is tired of being jerked around by this arrogant bastard, lunges at him. Ivan jumps six feet straight up, hissing, and they end up somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling, only to crash back down to the floor. Even vampires are not immune to the laws of gravity, and they roll around in a second deeply undignified flurry of kicking and biting, as Fedyor finally gets hold of Ivan’s wrists and tries to get his mouth as close as possible to that maddeningly enticing trickle. Then, for a crucial instant, he hesitates. He is very far gone, but there’s enough of his brain left to remember that feeding without permission is regarded quite dimly, and he is trying to prove that he is not a total savage. He gulps and gasps, fangs cutting into his lip, struggling and thrashing, not even able to properly articulate his request, as Ivan still looks – bafflingly – as if he is rather enjoying this. Then he smirks and says, “Very well, Fedyor Mikhailovich. Take it if you can.”

Now that is a challenge, and while it would be very enjoyable to throw it back in Ivan’s face in another fashion, Fedyor has only one concern at the moment. He presses his mouth to Ivan’s wrist, sinks his fangs, and sucks and licks like a man dying of thirst in the desert. Ivan utters a contented purring sound, his head falling back on the carpet, and certainly does not bother to keep struggling while Fedyor is otherwise occupied. Silence falls across the drawing room, except for the soft sounds of Fedyor feeding. He is half on top of Ivan, between his legs, and Ivan does not appear to be objecting in the least. Well. That was… unexpected.

When Fedyor has drunk enough to feel sane again, he pulls back with a jerk, remembers where he is, and fights the wash of embarrassment that floods through him. He wipes his mouth with the cuff of his shirt, then bends down and licks the bite wound closed, which is common vampire practice even if Ivan failed to do it with him. (After all, some supernaturals have manners.) Then they look at each other, and Fedyor doesn’t think it’s his imagination that Ivan’s breath is coming short, a flush visible in his pale cheeks, an enjoyment bearing a remarkable resemblance to Fedyor’s own. The silence persists a moment longer. Then Ivan groans, his legs sprawl further apart, and he orders, doing his utmost to sound gruff and commanding, “You will give me information on the Conclave now, yes?”

It is extremely tempting to tell him to take a long walk off a short pier, to pay him back for that underhanded trick at the Golden Cross, but that requires more command of his verbal processes than Fedyor currently possesses – or indeed, expects to possess in the near-to-medium future. He leans down instead, his nose brushing the hollow of Ivan’s cheek and his mouth ghosting against Ivan’s neck, his fangs tracing the line of the vein as if he might bite there too. Ivan’s hips buck, and his big hands settle heavily on the small of Fedyor’s back. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough rasp in his throat. “You are wasted on those idiots.”

“Mmm.” Fedyor nips Ivan’s lower lip, with just a hint of fang. Then – although it’s the most difficult thing he has had to do in his life or his afterlife – he rolls off and gets to his feet, leaving the fearsome Black Hand anarchist vampire flat on his back on the drawing room floor. “It has,” he says, “been a lovely evening. But I will be taking my leave now. Good night.”

And with that, in the somewhat shameful epitome of quitting while he is ahead, but wanting to make absolutely sure that the point has been felt, Fedyor turns around and books it. He doesn’t dare to look back as he bursts out of the dark house, pelts across the lawn, and skids down the hill, in the thick and slippery knots of mud and moss. He doesn’t slow down until he spies the lights of Belgrade, and in a few minutes more, he’s thundering into his flat, clothes disheveled and hair a mess and mouth and head and heart still full of the taste and smell and feel of Ivan Sakharov. It’s intoxicating. It’s unbearable. But it can only be once. It will be only once.

The Conclave, Fedyor reminds himself. You’re doing this to get back to them, and you managed to get out of there without saying anything. They’ll appreciate it. They will. And it’s what you want. Keep your head down and don’t do anything else stupid, and it will work.

It’s what he wants.

It’s what he wants.

It’s what he –

Ah, fuck.

[pricemarshfield]

for candia

Written for Day 1 of @acocweek​: Fluff + Theobald. Read on AO3 here.

Theobald, as always, is the first awake.

Things are different than they used to be, of course. He wakes up with a marauder curled into his side murmuring violent nothings in her sleep and a licorice snake biting his hand affectionately, rather than alone. The guards are made up of a mix of Tartguard and North-Gumbian Knights and Saccharina's collection of nobodies that Theo has yet to corral into training. Saccharina lets him sit at her side during every meeting--encourages it, actually, wonders aloud about round tables and councils and more democratic processes of enacting law in front of visiting dignitaries who stare at her staff with wonderment and fear.

There's also still a tangible air of mourning around the place, too. One of the Tartguard started wailing when he saw Princess for the first time, and they'll be repairing the damage to the castle for years.

But what a job to supervise all of this!

"Limey," Theo says with a nod to his new second-in-command, who salutes. "What news do we have for the day?"

"Nothing much, sir," says Limey. "Her Majesty the Queen Saccharina continues to insist we don't need to salute her, but we've maintained proper etiquette anyway."

"Fantastic," Theo says. "Continue on."

"There is one thing," Limey says, and his tone is more confused than nervous, so he doesn't reach for the battle pop. "All of the left shoes in the barracks disappeared overnight."

"...what?"

"All of the left shoes in the barracks disappeared overnight, sir," Limey says. "No one saw anything, and while that's not an especially expensive thing to replace, it is worrying that someone was able to slip past our defenses."

Ordinarily, Theo would be incredibly worried about someone who could sneak into the barracks and out without being spotted, especially carrying what must have been dozens of shoes. But he hears a familiar snort from somewhere above him. When he looks up, no one's there, but that's to be expected. She's good.

"I'll retrieve those shoes posthaste, Limey," Theobald says. "Tell the men not to worry."

"They're not, mostly," Limey says, but Theo's already wandered off, holding his arm out so Princess can keep an eye out, too. She doesn't seem to be especially invested, snoozing on his arm and hissing when he tries to lower it.

"Ruby," Theo calls. "I know you're nearby. Come on."

No response, no sound of footsteps, no flickering shadows. This'll take the big guns.

---

"Ruby did what?" Saccharina says, lounging on her throne, and bursts into a fit of giggles.

"My Queen," Theo says, a familiar headache already forming behind his eyes. "This is serious."

"Sure, yeah," Saccharina says. "All the left shoes in the barracks? Even Jon Bon's? Oh, that's gross. Wait, is everyone just hopping around? Also, just call me Saccharina."

"My Queen Saccharina," he says, and she frowns at him, fiddling with a small magical trinket she'd found somewhere in the castle. "The morale of the men is important. We were able to take the castle without heavy losses, but not without losses entirely."

"Hm." The Queen stands up, shakes her head when he automatically moves to kneel. "She is the Imperial Princess now, and I don't think pranks are gonna hurt morale. Tell whoever's in charge of it that I authorize new shoes to be bought. I've got this whole treasury now, anyway, what else would I do with it?"

Theo takes a deep breath. "I think--" Saccharina waits, raising a brow at Theo's pause. He doesn't normally get this far. "I think that Ruby should probably apologize. And return the shoes."

Saccharina's mischievous smile looks a lot like her sister's. "Sure. And you can tell her that if you can find her."

There's a sudden laugh from behind him, and when Theo swings his head around, he sees only the back of the throne room.

He sighs. In for a long day, apparently.

---

The Imperial Princess Ruby of House Rocks doesn't have tutors here. She's on vacation, officially and in practice. Well-deserved after the war, of course, even if Theo doesn't understand the appeal of a week or month or two without structure. He'd have thought, after everything, that pranks were beneath her, that perhaps she'd even take an active role in governance!

Instead, Ruby seems to have decided Saccharina's challenge for Theo to find her cannot go unmet.

He hasn't seen her all day, even though the Bulb is high in the sky, but the impact of her actions is everywhere. Frosting along the floors that he slipped on, causing a Tartguard pile-up. Little bursts of sparks set to trigger when he opens doors and windows that startle him enough that Princess bites him. The worst offender is when he turns down a hallway only to see piles and piles of shoes, because when he gets back, they're all gone. The other Knights of North-Gumbia, to their credit, are completely understanding.

"The princesses were always fond of japes, weren't they, sir?" Limey asks. Princess hisses and curls around his neck in what he thinks is an affectionate gesture.

"They were," Theo says. Once, he'd woken up, sat up, and stretched only to get a tray of whipped cream directly to the face. Jet and Ruby hadn't been half as good at stealthing away as Ruby is now, but it'd taken him long enough to wipe it off his face that he'd only seen Jet glance back and snort with laughter.

Nothing had happened. Caramelinda had been visiting House Meringue for a family wedding and Amethar had found it hysterical. They had apologized in their own way, after--no escape attempts for an entire fortnight.

He shakes himself of his nostalgia with the help of Princess biting his ear, and as he gently untangles her from his helmet, he says, "Right. Well, keep the search up. She can't hide from us forever."

---

Two days, six hours, and roughly thirty minutes after he makes that statement, he's not so sure. No one's admitted to seeing Ruby, though Saccharina's eyes had sparkled with mirth and kept glancing up to a corner behind him as if daring him to break court etiquette and check. He's checked the secret passages he knows, he's enlisted the help of the marauders (Swifty had only threatened to stab him once during the conversation, so he thinks they're genuinely looking), he's used every spell he knows and considered looking up new ones.

New pranks pop up around the castle, of course. A few meeps let loose in the hallways, frightening a visiting dignitary. Flooding one of the kitchens with cola. Cushions that make it sound like you're farting on every chair except the throne.

"Ruby seems to be sparing you from her onslaught," Theo says to the Queen, watching as Annabelle Cheddar stares at herself in one of the room's mirrors, hair turned a bright Candian purple.

"Yeah," Saccharina says with a wide smile. "She is! It's really cool! I've never had anyone comfortable enough around me who cared me enough to do pranks without me being the target!"

Theo, not knowing how to respond to that, is incredibly thankful for the sixth prank of the day: an explosion of scraps of paper that covers every inch of the room. The paper seems to be mostly made up of old letters from the other nations. They're important, and them being destroyed is terrible, and they will have words about it later, but he can't bring himself to mind too much right now.

Because with all the paper everywhere, he sees the little breeze she makes in her escape, and the direction she runs in after.

---

If he chases after her now, he'll lose her, and who knows if he'll ever get another lucky break like that again. So he waits. Endures waking up covered in Fructeran vino, deals with diplomats' outrage at not being greeted by the Imperial Princess herself, keeps checking secret passages in entirely different parts of the castle just to throw her off the trail. He doesn't say anything to anyone about it, because he's not especially good at deception.

The final prank: a veritable army of chocolate frogs released while Saccharina holds court. It explains why she's been holding back laughter the entire time, but that's a problem for later. For now, he sprints across the room, vaulting over one of the Tartguard, and heads in the direction he'd seen her run before.

There's a few secret passageways this way, but he's checked those. When he reaches a dead end, he looks around, thinks--casts knock on the wall. Sure enough, it pushes open, and on the other side is Ruby Rocks, mouth open in shock.

"Ruby!" Theo calls.

"Damn it," she says. "How'd you even--it doesn't matter."

"You have many things to apologize for, your Imperial Highness," Theo says, walking over to try and pick her up and carry her back to the throne room. She could escape, probably, but it's at least a start.

"That's not true!" Ruby says. "I've been helping a ton of people."

"What, people who needed specifically left shoes? Annabelle secretly asked you to dye her hair purple?" Ruby snorts. "See! Come on, Princess."

"No, seriously," Ruby says. "Look, I did this because it's funny, but it's bringing the mood up around here! Morale!"

Theo blinks at her. "What? Stealing people's things? Ruining their day?"

"Pranks," Ruby says with a nod. "Look. Pay attention to the way people are acting and talking about all of it. I'll be back here in a few hours if you still wanna try and get me grounded."

"Your sister's not going to ground you," Theo says, and Ruby grins up at him.

It's definitely a trick. He's fallen for similar tricks before. He shouldn't this time.

"If you're not back here," Theo says, and Ruby laughs, half-tackles him in a hug, runs past him, and jumps out a window. He doesn't hear a thud or yelp of pain, so he assumes it's probably fine.

He hadn't even thought to check outside, had he? Hopefully, she'll keep her word and he won't have to. Not much else to do now that she's already escaped.

---

When he walks back to the throne room, Saccharina's holding a chocolate frog with a look of fascination and disgust, Primsy's already got one in a box that she's attempting to feed sugar-grass, and Liam is visibly holding himself back from target practice, hands twitching towards his crossbow.

"I must say," he overhears one of the Tartguard say as he takes his place by Saccharina's left side. (Gooey's at the right, still. Had very, very easily won that argument.) "While these pranks are quite improper, you can't deny they're incredibly humorous!"

"Good sir!" says another Tartguard, and one of the marauders behind him rolls her eyes, but has a smile on her face too. "I have to say, I agree. It was nice to have a bit of liveliness around here!"

One of the Fructeran diplomats is upset, but soothed easily after his partner reminds him that he can tell this story before the Imperial Court, always so focused on adventures. The Dairy Islanders seem more excited to avoid courtly talk than anything. One Meatlander is holding a chocolate frog with a look that can only be described as adoring, even as it shits in his hand.

All-in-all, the atmosphere of the room is rather...jovial. Not at all like the quiet mournfulness of the first week of their reign. There's still the holes in some of the walls from their siege, and there's still the palpable loss of the chancellor and the princess, but people seem happy. People are laughing.

When he goes back to the secret passageway--opened apparently by twisting a statue of Sapphria so that she's facing the window--Ruby's there, shifting on her feet.

"You do have to return the shoes," Theo says, and Ruby's shoulders slump. "But--"

"Yes!" Ruby says. "I knew you'd get it. Well, I hoped you'd get it. Gooey's mellowed you out."

"I--that's--we're not talking about Gooey," Theo blusters. "The shoes need to go back."

Ruby snorts. "I did that so we'd get new shoes. Dad told me all about trench foot."

"What?" Theo says. "That's not even a little bit of an appropriate topic for conversation. Especially at court. If you'd just go to your lessons--"

"I don't even have lessons here," Ruby says, and he's so distracted by responding to that with an emphatic 'you should' that he doesn't notice the tray of whipped cream until it's already in his face.

"Bye, Theo!" Ruby calls, already dashing away from him.

He sighs. "Bye, Ruby."

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

A Moment Apart Part 2 | Caspian x Reader

Warnings: None

Time/Era: After Voyage of the Dawn Treader 

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Caspian appears in Y/N’s world in hopes of finding his long lost lover. 

Request: Would you ~possibly~ be able to do a part two to the caspian fic where he shows up in the reader’s world??

A/N: Thanks for the request :) Let me know what you think. I hope everyone enjoys! Please keep sending requests :)

Part 1 | masterlist  | read on ao3

“Your world is quite...loud,” Caspian states, looking around the room. He was sat on Y/N’s bed, his hand in hers, looking rather confused. 

“There’s a lot more people and buildings,” Edmund responds. He was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “Not to mention, horses aren’t exactly used as modes of transportation here.” Caspian stuck out like a sore thumb within the group; he adorned his sword like normal and was dressed in his long, leather coat and mid-calf boots. Whereas the rest of the room was wearing sweater vests, clean pants, and knee-length skirts. Caspian’s finger traced the plaid pattern on the Y/N’s skirt. 

“How did you get here?” Lucy asks, addressing the elephant in the room. Caspian sighs, looking a bit solemn. 

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story,” He glances at the painting on Y/N’s wall. “Is that the Dawn Treader?”

“Yes, that’s how we got to Narnia last time. It started spouting water and flooded this room,” Y/N pointed towards her desk, which was mostly filled with Lucy’s stationary supplies. “That’s the chair that hit me.”

“It flooded the room?”

“Yes, it was quite scary.” Eustace enters the room, holding a book about the invention of flashlights. “How are you here? Are we going back to Narnia?”

“Hello, Eustace. And I’m not sure. Aslan sent me here in search of you,” He looked over at Y/N and gave her hand a squeeze. 

“Me? Why would Aslan need you to look for me?” Y/N got her first good look at his eyes for quite some time. They were a deep brown and had a kind sparkle in them; they made Y/N’s knees turn weak. 

“Well, I’m set to be married in the next fortnight.” Y/N instantly let go of his hand and stood, walking away from him. Her face showed nothing but sadness and betrayal. 

“What? How could you?” Y/N’s voice trembled as she spoke, no matter how hard she tried. She could feel the tears well in her eyes before threatening to cascade down her cheeks. Caspian stood right after her and reached his hands in her direction. 

“You didn’t let me finish! Since I am the only ruler of Narnia since the Kings and Queens of Old left,” He gestured towards Edmund and Lucy with one of his outstretched hands. “My advisors decided it was in my best interest to find a queen to help me rule. We’ve been trying to become allies with a neighboring kingdom for much time now and they believe it will make the deal go by smoother,” Caspian takes a deep breath. 

“Well, that makes some sense, I guess. I see where they’re coming from…” Edmund comments, earning a death glare from his cousin. Caspian sends him a look before continuing. 

“Anyway, they set up the wedding without my consent. In return, I talked to Aslan. He said that he knows there is a certain girl who I would be much happier ruling with and that I need to find her again.”

Y/N turned around and looked at Caspian. He was much taller than her, so his head was tilted slightly down to look into her eyes. 

“So, you found a way to come here.”

“Well, no, not exactly. Aslan provided that. He dropped me into a stone courtyard that was occupied by a ton of people. There were a ton of goods and food, and the people there were buying everything by the basket full! I didn’t know food was so valuable in this world. I wasn’t very interested in the courtyard so, I started walking in an attempt to find one of you,” 

“The farmer’s market! I was about to go there!” Lucy exclaimed. 

“Farmer’s market?”

“Local farmers and vendors come to sell their goods. It’s been a bit sparse due to the war, but it’s the cheapest way to shop for food.” Lucy forgot how much different Narnia was from her world. All of the Pevensies and the two Scrubbs had to remind themselves that Narnia natives didn’t have the same normalizes as they did growing up. 

“I see. Y/N told me much about the battle happening in this world during the long days on the sea. The people at this, so-called, farmer’s market didn’t like my sword very much, which is odd. I thought they would feel safer.” Caspian’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword unconsciously. 

“Yeah, people here get a bit nervous around weapons, especially right now. Here, the weapons don’t really mean safety. People think you’re going to attack them, rather than protect them.” Edmund pushed off the door and walked towards the newcomer. “If you’re going to stay here, you need to get out of those clothes so you blend in a bit better.” 

“What? No!” 

“Yes! You won’t be able to fit into mine, but maybe our uncles.” Edmund left and came back with a neatly stacked pile of old-man looking clothing. “I know it’s not great, but it’s better than what you’re wearing.”

“Love, the washroom in the second door to the right. Go change.” Y/N gently pushed the King towards the door. Once he was gone, Lucy turned towards Y/N. 

“I think he wants you to go back to Narnia with him, Y/N!”

“What? No, he doesn’t, Lu. This is just a weird set of circumstances.” 

“Think about it, there is a certain girl who I would be much happier ruling with. Y/N, that’s you!” 

“Well, are you going to go?” Edmund presses, nearly tripping on Eustace, who was sitting on the floor with his book open. 

“He hasn’t even asked me to go,” 

Caspian walked into the room dressed head to toe in an attire meant for someone in their 60’s. He wore a button-up shirt with stripes on it, a vest and red tie, a pair of gray slacks, and pointy dress shoes. The outfit wouldn’t be that bad, but each article of clothing was about 2 sizes too big and did no justice for his body. 

Y/N giggled, “You look like my dad,” Caspian looked desparately at Edmund. 

“It’s better than my clothes, they would be 2 sizes too small.”

“You look great as always, Cas,” Lucy complimented. “So, what did you mean by another girl to rule with you?” 

“I wasn’t clear?” Caspian looked at each of their faces. They were staring at him intently, even Eustace tore his eyes from his book. Caspian’s gaze stuck on Y/N’s, a small smile growing on his lips. “Y/N, I wouldn’t want anyone but you to be my queen.” 

Y/N’s face turned red, all confidence drained from her body and was replaced with shyness. Her? Marry Caspian and become a queen?

“You want to marry me?” 

“Well, of course I want to marry you.”

“What about the princess?”

“Aslan told me to find you, so I doubt he would be bothered with you coming back.” He smiled a toothy grin, his white teeth almost glowing. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m sure. Will you come back to Narnia with me and become my queen?”

Y/N looked at Edmund and Lucy for help, but both just held warm smiles. 

“Alright, yeah, okay. I can do that.”

Caspian smiled and took his soon-to-be-wife into his arms. “Good, because in Narnia I don’t have to wear itchy tweed trousers.” 

[mischiefandi]

✨Event Announcement !!✨

Hi everyone <33

SO i told yall i was planning something new for my blog and i actually got this idea not too long ago. I’ve got a new bi-weekly event in the works: let me explain !

✨Musical Monday✨

The concept behind this is fairly simple, i’ll explain below the cut !

Every other Wednesday, I’ll post a little something to remind you that Musical Monday is in the works for the following week. You can then send in either 

-an album you enjoy by any artist 

-or a spotify playlist (that you created or that someone else created (with credits pls!))

and

-a book/show/movie who’s characters you want me to pair the songs with

my job is to then assign the characters from these shows/movies/books to the songs in said playlist/album.

!! (you can specify who you definitely want to see in the list if you’d like but it’s not necessary) !!

Every other Monday (meaning every fortnight), I’ll be posting the characters with the songs as well as a piece of writing underneath explaining why I thought they matched the song. 

The whole point of this is to discover new music, hopefully give you my own recommendations as well, and also just to have fun and spread some love for these characters. I also genuinely adore analysing characters and digging deeper into their story arcs so this’ll be the perfect opportunity for me to share my thoughts with you and hear your own!

✨What shows/movies/books can I request?✨

you can request just about anything however I obviously haven’t watched every show or movie on the planet and I have definitely not read that many books so here are a few ideas to get you all started if you’re at all interested:

anything MCU, Teen Wolf, Sex Education, Gossip Girl, Friends, How I Met Your Mother, Glee, Sherlock, any Choices book, the Haunting of Bly Manor, the Haunting of Hill House, the Office, Bridgerton, Harry Potter, the Hunger Games, the Maze Runner, Shameless, the Goonies, Outer Banks, the Society, Derry Girls, American Horror Story (1-7), Grey’s Anatomy, the 100, Star Wars, Fleabag, Little Women, Disney movies, Barbie movies, Narnia, and many many more

if there’s anything else in mind that’s not on this list, that’s 100% ok, you can definitely still send it in. if i haven’t seen/read it and don’t plan on doing so, i’ll just say so (respectfully ofc), or i’ll add it to the list of stuff i have to watch!

✨What type of music can I request?✨

I’m a big fan of indie rock, alt-rock, hard rock, pop, soul, 70s music, honestly you can send in just about anything, I’m always down to listen to new stuff and I’ll mostly be focusing on the lyrics anyway! 

✨Can I request a show/movie/book if it’s been requested before already?✨

honestly there’s hundreds of combinations you could send in. Someone could send in a request for Derry Girls x a specific Harry Styles album, and two months later someone else could request Derry Girls x a David Bowie album, or request How I Met Your Mother x another Harry Styles album. There’s little to no chance you’ll request exactly the same thing as someone else so please don’t hesitate to send in your asks! 

✨Themes?✨

it wouldn’t truly be a mischiefandi event if themes weren’t involved of course! when it comes to seasons, holidays and international days like Valentine’s, Christmas, Halloween, New Year’s Eve, Summer, Spring, Winter, Autumn, or other random prompts, I’ll tell you on the Wednesdays before Musical Monday, notifying you that it’s a special edition (along with additional guidelines if there are any). 

✨Dos and Don’ts✨

do make sure to send in A) a playlist or album + B) a show, or movie, or book (remember: A+B!). I expect I’ll get quite a few requests over the next few months and I won’t have time to go and ask you for more info privately, so please send in both or I’ll have to delete your request.

do be patient with me! if you sent in a request a few months ago, chances are I’m still working on it or you’re on the list and I’m getting to you :)

do send in multiple requests if you want to! i genuinely will be super happy to add them to the list!

don’t harass me with the exact same requests over and over again please haha. Like I said, chances are you’re already on the list and it’s really easy to see when a specific anon keeps sending the same asks so pls don’t. 

don’t be rude to other people if they don’t necessarily agree with your point of view about a specific character description. this is all meant to be fun and light-hearted. debating and discussing these characters is 100% encouraged as long as it’s constructive, polite, and civilised. any unnecessary rudeness or hate will be deleted immediately.

don’t make fun of people for the characters or books/movies/shows they like. if on one specific Musical Monday you see the post is about a show you’re not a big fan of, just scroll. let people enjoy things!

don’t hesitate to ask me any questions that you might have about Musical Monday. anon is always on for my shy peeps out there and i’m more than happy to give you more clarification if needed!

✨How do I get notified when Musical Monday happens?✨

i’ve updated my taglist google form so please click here and fill in the Musical Monday taglist box if you would like to be tagged every other Wednesday as a reminder for the next Musical Monday, and every Musical Monday of course. 

You don’t have to be on my writing taglists to participate in this and you definitely don’t have to be on the Musical Monday taglist in order to send in a request. Anyone can join at any time, the taglist is only for the people that want to make sure they don’t miss a Musical Monday. 

Again, if you have any questions about this game, my inbox is open <3

I am super excited about this project and I’ve been mulling it over for a little while now. Hopefully this is something that you guys will enjoy and want to participate it. I know a lot of you enjoyed the musical blurbs i did in November (still have a ton to do btw), so I thought that this could be fun also! My hope for this game is that it’ll create dialogue about these characters that we love so much and I’m so excited to hear your guys’ thoughts and recommendations!!

Love you all and hope you’re all having a lovely February

✨When will the first Musical Monday go down?✨

this Monday! exceptionally it’s on short notice, but for future reference, you’ll have a whole week to send in your requests no so worries! Please send in any requests you have for this Monday though!!

the theme for this Monday (15/02/21) is Valentine’s Day of course so my descriptions will be love-related but if you have any requests for stuff that has nothing to do with love, that’s more than fine, I’ll be adding them to the list for the upcoming Musical Mondays!

✨Tagging everyone in my taglists just this once + some mutuals to spread the word✨

@stiles-o-dylan24 @duskholland @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @r0s3mm @redstringlovers @captainbuckyyy12 @soincredible @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @cheesecakes-randomshitz @traveleraroundsworld @alwaysforever73 @thelittlestkitsune@glaimtruelovealways @texaskitten30 @abitofeverythinggg @alwaysforever73 @hcomet28 @thegirlwhoimagined @cherriesanwine @decaffeinated--fangirl @shutupstyless @x-give-em-hell-kid-x @teen--marvel @soincredible @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @bibliophilewednesday @jazminebrightxx @cheesecakes-randomshitz @traveleraroundsworld @perrytheplatypus11 @stixnstripesworld @masterofbluff @drakewalker04 @superapplepie @apatheticanvas67482 @theamazingtomholland @earthlyholland @siriusly-harry @solstilla @mrscutiefandobhaz @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @isaiahjesus -> it’d mean the world to me if you could signal boost this to spread the word, but if you’d rather not interact, that’s totally okay! don’t worry! you won’t be tagged anymore unless you’ve added yourself to the Musical Monday taglist here. 

thank you and see you on Monday 15/02/21 at 8 pm CET (= UTC+1)  /  7 pm GMT (= UTC)  /  2 pm EST (= UTC-5)  /  11 am PST (= UTC-8)

[dailytomlinson]

“I probably shouldn’t be talking about this but f*** it,” he tells me now. “My point is, I clearly wasn’t in the best frame of mind, you know? And the situation definitely got out of hand and people were goading me. It wasn’t my finest hour but it was a difficult time. I was already on edge and, in that headspace, it got the better of me.”

By “that headspace”, Tomlinson means that he was grieving. The airport incident took place a few months after his mother Johannah’s death from leukaemia at 43. (In March last year, his 18-year-old sister, Félicité, died from an accidental overdose. Quite reasonably, I’ve been asked not to bring this up.) Tomlinson, who is now 28, says his experiences of grief in the public eye have been “really tough. There have been mixed emotions. I’ve hated the fact that everyone’s talking about it, but that’s the way it is. I didn’t like the idea of people feeling sorry for me. But I’ve also felt the support from fans and people reaching out on social media or whatever… and I do feel I’ve got this ability to see the glass as half full. Because what else am I going to f***ing do?”

I meet Tomlinson in an upstairs room of a pub in a residential corner of London’s Notting Hill. He is dressed in jeans, a red tracksuit top and trainers. The only visible evidence of his previous life in One Direction, the biggest boyband in pop history, is his hair, which is artfully swept sideways as if he’s standing in a wind tunnel. An old hand at winning over interviewers, he greets me with a hug before sitting down, leaning back and putting his feet up.

Tomlinson is on the promotional trail for his debut album, Walls, which has been four years on the making. It includes “Two of Us”, a ballad which lays bare Tomlinson’s loss (“You’ll never know how much I miss you/ The day that they took you, I wish it was me instead”). In a change of mood, it also contains the Britpop-flavoured “Kill My Mind”, a throwback to his mid-teens and the indie night he’d go to with his friends in his native Doncaster.

Tomlinson grew up listening to Oasis and Arctic Monkeys, though right now he can’t get enough of Catfish and the Bottlemen: “I like anything with big guitars and a big chorus.” He reckons “Kill My Mind” will struggle to get on the radio but he doesn’t care since, musically, “I’ve often been swimming against the tide.”

He puts the album’s long gestation down to creative insecurity. “A good two years [was spent] treading water and trying to work out exactly what my sound was, and what I was capable of.” Clearly, One Direction, who sold 50 million albums, are a tough act to follow, though Tomlinson has also had to contend with his former colleagues putting out solo work before him (Harry Styles is already on his second LP, while Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne have all released debuts). But he rejects the suggestion that they are all in competition, remarking, “I don’t like to look at it that way.”

I ask if he and his ex-bandmates have a WhatsApp group. They don’t, he replies, “and we should, but we’ve never got around to it”. But he says they are frequently in touch, which must be something people ask a lot since, entirely unbidden, he gives me a breakdown of their recent activities. Let the record show that he spoke to Liam two days ago; he and Niall exchanged texts a fortnight ago; and Harry sent him a congratulatory message when he released his last single. There is no mention of Zayn.

Tomlinson says the face he presents to the public and journalists these days is fully unfiltered, a change from his One Direction days when he had to be careful not to cause inadvertent upset within the band or with fans. “No one was saying ‘Don’t do that’, but there was the [pressure] of being role models. So it took a second to understand that [as a solo artist] I could get away with completely being myself, even though I can sometimes be a bit of a dickhead.”

In fact, there are two Tomlinsons that emerge throughout our chat. There’s boyband Louis, full of sweet but bland blather about self-expression, his gratitude to fans, and the luck that he’s enjoyed as an artist. But another version of him frequently comes through who is funny, sweary and thoughtful about his decade in the limelight.

Tomlinson has had four years to digest his time in One Direction which I note, from the outside, looked a bit like being held hostage. But even with the fan fervour, the police escorts and the nonstop media glare, he says he wouldn’t change anything. “We were always in control of our destiny,” he explains. “We rose to fame pretty quick and, because of that, we had some power and some say within the record label and with management.” The sheer pace and drama of their day-to-day existence was, he says, “like a drug. It’s that feeling of heightened emotion and every day being manically busy, and the hysteria. Although you might complain about it, none of us said, ‘No we don’t wanna do that.’ We were just in it. We were f***ing loving it.”

Still, he says, the initial 18 months were hard as he struggled to see his value within the band. “I would wonder, ‘What difference would it make if I was there or if I wasn’t?’ Under the spotlight that was difficult, but that’s what gave me the fire in the belly to get right into it.” It was through songwriting that he found his place and his confidence – he has writing credits on 37 One Direction songs, more than anyone else in the band. “That’s something I’m really f***ing proud of,” he says. “Now I can say I made a difference.”

The end of One Direction was a shock to Tomlinson, even though he knew it was coming. “We’d done such a lot of work in a short space of time so a break was inevitable. But I don’t think I was necessarily ready for how long. We had a band meeting and everyone just said, ‘Maybe we’ll put it on the back burner for a bit,’ and I felt a bit petulant about that at the time. It actually hit me like a ton of bricks.” Now the band are officially on hiatus – “even though that’s a stupid f***ing word”, he says. “Truthfully, none of us truly know [if we’ll reform]. I just know what my gut says and my gut says we will get back together at some point. I think it was too magical for all of us to never do it again.”

The eldest of seven siblings, as a child Tomlinson says he was “well-mannered but a bit of a show-off. I was a lot cockier than I am now. Being in One Direction made me realise I’m not always the coolest kid in the room”.

He wasn’t good academically at school but enjoyed performing and, for a while, toyed with being an actor. Before auditioning on The X Factor, he did a string of jobs at weekends and in school holidays for some extra cash. One summer was spent as a waiter at his beloved football club, Doncaster Rovers. Another yielded a stint at a well-known cinema chain dispensing popcorn. There, he tells me unexpectedly, he was earning “an extra wage”. An extra wage? “As in taking a few quid from the till,” he says with a grin. “It all started because there was a McDonald’s over the road and I wanted money for my lunch.” His trick was to hand customers two boxes of popcorn but only put one through the system and put the money for the second in his pocket. “I didn’t want to short-change the customer,” he explains. “I’d take from the company. I’m a man of the people.”

It was his mum’s idea for him to try out for The X Factor, though it took three attempts to get through to the televised auditions. He says the experience of going on stage in front of the live audience, under the glare of the lights and with four famous judges looking back at him, remains the most terrifying of his life.

We talk for a bit about Tomlinson’s return to The X Factor in 2018 as a judge alongside Simon Cowell plus Robbie Williams and his wife Ayda Field. He asks what I made of the show so I decide to be honest and tell him that I thought the whole thing looked tired and Cowell appeared bored out of his mind. “Well I couldn’t possibly comment on [Cowell],” says Tomlinson, good-naturedly, “though I actually loved it. But yeah, I feel that, as a show, it needs a rest. There’s a place for a show like it and I’ve got my career to thank for it, but we’ve had a lot of it, so let’s just let it rest and make people want it again.”

Life has slowed down since the madness of One Direction but he still can’t find the time to read a book or watch a box set. Where, in his pre-fame days, he struggled to hold down a job, now he’s happiest when he’s busy. Should the singing career stall, he would like to run his own management company. Five years ago, he launched a record label, an imprint on Cowell’s Syco label, but life got in the way and his plans to create a girl band fell at the first hurdle. Originally he had gathered a list of 20 acts that he was keen to sign, and points out that “like, four or five of them are signed [elsewhere] now… I think I have an instinct for these things”.

I ask, rather unfairly, if the solo career of a former boyband member is ultimately a doomed endeavour – for every Robbie Williams, there’s a Howard, Jason and Mark whose careers sink without trace. For a moment Tomlinson looks stumped but then he prevaricates like a pro. “Of course, there are days where I might have unreal expectations and when I have to tell myself to stay grounded,” he says. “But I had a breakthrough moment last year about what success really means and I think I can look at it for what it is now. I have to look at how happy I am and remember that I’m lucky to be doing what I’m doing.”

[boog-shitposting-edition]

So I been playing a ton of Kenshi and watched all of the Mandalorian in a single day shortly before and it’s got me thinking about what makes what I consider a good action hero, because there was definitely a time where I thought the phrase “good action hero” was an oxymoron.

I grew up around some angry, unstable dudes who had that bad habit of watching horror movies and opining that in the same situation they would simply shoot the monster with the gun the character was holding. I got some views on the model of masculinity that sees the male ideal as functionally a tool for performing violence, condescension and occasional reddit-approved banter with all other emotional responses pared away or suppressed. This seems like a good way to manufacture a product for performing labor rather than developing a whole functional human being. So I generally veer away from that sort of thing pretty hard.

So I’m resistant to the Mandalorian at first, right? All the ads are basically star wars apocryphica and a power armored fighty gun boy. The last star wars thing I’d seen was The Rise Of Skywalker and my faith in the franchise is low. But it’s been a hot minute, the hype dies down, and my girlfriend is a better and more patient fan than I’ll ever be so we give it a go. And the first thing that really nails it for me is what a DORK the mando is. I’m delighted, his life is violence interdispersed with being an absolute buttfumble disaster. He slips and falls over things he could never have predicted, he burns his life down for a baby he finds in the desert. Pedro Pascal references Boba Fetts stiff menace and plays it off as someone who has no social skills other than stiff menace and it’s FASCINATING. Him explaining to the village woman who is obviously into him that he hasn’t taken the armor off since he was thirteen isn’t a badass declaration of martial devotion, it is the single saddest and most awkward interaction I have ever seen filmed and it hits all the harder for the fact that this is a character I’ve mostly ever seen as an action figure with a spring loaded missile backpack. Instead of being a faceless emotionless action-cudgel, Pedro amps up the body language in his acting to really sell you this heavily psychologically damaged, desperate, viking-space-catholic mess with no life skills other than violence and a devotion to his people’s creed that borders on obsession. Rather than paring himself down making him a psychological fortress, the Mando is an incredibly obvious walking raw nerve (”I’m not sad-” “Yes you are.”) So, Kenshi.

I’ve heard about this game on and off a few years and finally got it a few days ago. It’s been in early access since 2012, appears to be mostly getting finished by its modding community, and glitches like absolute woah. There’s no core storyline, just a post-apocalyptic setting with some surprisingly detailed autogenerated NPC interactions with some options for starting conditions and the sole goal of surviving. It’s essentially a rapid sequence of story prompts hidden underneath a closely interlocked system of XP grinding, survival mechanics and dismemberment algorithms, and is appallingly my shit.

My first run at the game got pretty far, went from a lone confused desert wanderer to a 13 man village running a tidy copper-mining operation to trade with the ant people. In the early game, fight mechanics are basically a death sentence; my first character immediately got her leg torn off by a goat and I had to restart. All skills grow only by excersizing them; you have to fight to get better at fighting, you have to LOSE fights to gain toughness, and when you lose a fight the consequences can range from “these bandits are stealing all your food” to “this monster is eating your leg/heart/head” to “these slavers are taking your character away and your game experience is Different now.” And while I was proud of myself for finding a way to survive, grow and thrive with a low-combat squad, once I tried the basebuilding mechanics that basically just meant my town was a source of free food and money for local bandits while my squad starved to death, unable to abandon our locale. So I got fed up and restarted.

As mentioned the game gives you different start positions; wanderer gives you 1 character, some money and pants. Guy and his dog gives you a dog, which is fun. Exiled officer starts you with good skills and the hatred of your former commander, which complicates things. Cannibal Hunters starts you already in a fistfight with 30 cannibals. It’s exciting times. But I figure this time I’d like to start my squad a LITTLE more capable of defending themselves, so I look at the Holy Sword start; you’re a bandit who starts with a stolen holy weapon, minuses in most skills, no money and a 20,000 bounty on your head from both major factions.

So I proceed to character creation and notice I can pick whatever I want for player species/subspecies with this start. There’s robot people and warriors made of stone and baseline humans and all sorts of fun options, but you remember those ant people I mentioned before? In game they’re called the Hivers, you find ‘em in 3 recruitable varieties (prince, worker drone and soldier) and they have an interesting in-universe quirk; ones that grow up in the hive are pheramone-addicted, chemically wired into the needs and wants of all of their fellows, but if you’re away from your kin for over a fortnight this addiction dries out incredibly fast and cannot be reinstated. Hivers who ever spend any time away from the hive are declared “lost ones,” and are often taken advantage of in the outside world as they long for a new community.

In survival sims I dont often play dedicated fighters, I always feel like being a brutal fight-beast isn’t really in the spirit of finding a niche to exploit and growing from a fumbling plebian to a major power. But I was already starting this game with my ONLY advantage being a nice sword. And the soldier hivers gain a buff to experience gained for melee attack and toughness, and a debuff to literally all else.

Manual labor. Science. Engineering. Farming. Cooking. First aide. In a setting that heavily prioritized your ability to survive using multiple vital skill sets, my character would start with negatives in his skills for putting on band-aids and FEEDING himself. So I gave it a go.

Getting more wild here, it turns out the Holy Sword opening also takes place in a time in the setting with more recent warfare, so a bunch of the starting villages are destroyed and it appears that more of the nearby cities are controlled by the factions that have a bounty on me. So my character CAN’T rely on other people or meet anyone to recruit at first. He can run, he can scrounge and scavenge, and as mentioned above starting characters can take lethal damage from GOATS so he can’t even hunt for food; the only way I was getting a meal was if I robbed someone or ran into merchants on the road I could hawk my salvage to for a scrap of bread.

He eventually finds someone willing to join him on his travels in spite of being flat broke, a shek named Ruka running from a dishonerable loss on the battlefield, and comparing their skills he’s so useless for everything besides combat that I assign him to bodyguard her. And again, this game’s appeal is that the survival mechanics make good story prompts, so imagine that in character.

“Fine, I need a change. I’ll join you.” “Thank god. Lead the way boss.” “What?”

Things regarding my characters bounty are starting to heat up in town, so we head north into hiver territory. We get attacked by bandits and heavily injured, my soldier gets knocked out, so Ruka picks him up and carries him until we find a hive town. I saw these guys all the time in my last playthrough, I survived by selling to them, they’re super friendly, should be fine. Ruka walks into the local shop and before I can have her ask for directions and a medikit the shopkeeper is already shouting- “SKREEE! LOST ONE! GET OUT! LOST ONES BRING MADNESS”

Apparently, my protagonist being a hiveless hiver means there’s a THIRD faction that’s hostile to him; his own goddamn people. Ruka has to leave him under a tree not just outside but like 50 feet from the edge of town, and just has  to hope none of the local wild megafauna eats him while she rushes back in to buy things from the now abruptly friendlier shopkeep.

I’m finally sitting there, having Ruka watch my soldier hiver sleep while she cooks scavanged meat and waits for him to finish healing, that I realize what the story being generated here is and it’s a good one; a Hive soldier whose only skills are violence, frantically scavenging and stealing to survive until he can find the one circumstance where he’s comfortable, sacrificing himself to protect others. He steals a sword that’s obviously important to two major governments, just because he knows it’s powerful and thinks that power will justify his continued existence as a hiveless soldier drone, essentially buying his way back into his people’s good graces by performing his function. Literally wandering the world until he found a single person who was willing to boss him around again and devoting himself to their defense to a state of pathological damage just to feel like he has a hive again. It’s sad. It’s badass. It’s deeply, unsettlingly pathetic.

But I also think it’s what makes a really really good gruff action hero!

Hypercompetence in violence is really interesting when you acknowledge the damage it can do to your humanity in the storytelling! The Mandalorian is unsuccessful in repressing his empathy response so he just tries to tough through the pain it causes him as best he can, until he meets The Child and it snaps. The Hiver is essentially playing pretend at being still valued as a product for committing violence, even in the face of being openly rejected for his previously esteemed role. This stuff is INTERESTING.

TL;DR version, a lot of these “supersoldier raised by the military/fight wizards/karate” characters are super boring and obnoxious when they’re put forward as power fantasies, and really interesting when you realize that being raised by Fight Wizards is why they’ve never had a girlfriend and called their handgun “mom” once.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 27 February 1835: SH:7/ML/E/17/0171

6 55

12 10

No kiss. rainy windy morning - reading Sir Robert Peel’s capital speech - F41° at 8 ¾ am breakfast at 9 and staid downstairs with A- (till 11) on her receipt soon after mine from Washington’s man (surveyor) of his valuation and proposed manner of the division of the joint property - talked it over - Told her how to make out a clear summary on one sheet so as shew at a glance the relative value and contents of every farm etc and wrote her copy of note to Mr Wilkinson about Mr W. Priestley’s ordering the Sunday school boys to stay at home from church on account of typhus fever at Priestley Green. Had Joseph Mann with Farrer’s bill paid for the rails I had of him - then Holt came and he and I and John and Joseph Mann and Charles Howarth (at 11 ¼) went Mytholm mill to see the engine pit - with a view to loose the coal there - a stream of water comes off the coal there = ½ the average annual quantity of water in the Red brook at any rate= double the water from the Spiggs colliery falling into the Red brook under Wellroyde house and estimated at ¼ of the annual average of the Red brook water - Charles Howarth right - no chance of loosing the coal at Mytholm - gave up the thought - all went to look at Mytholm damstones above the Stag’s head and thence along Lower brea wood (Mr. George R- who shewed us the engine pit and wheel and Thomas Pearson who happened to join us there followed us as far as Tilley holme stile) -fixed to have the waterwheel put down in the wood near Tilley holme stile and where to put the dam in James Smith’s Ing - waterwheel should be 12 ft - calculate to take up a breadth of ground to work in equal to the breadth of the rim of the wheel (not named)  + 1 yard on each side - suppose the dam to be 20 yards square - the stuff f the drift from Mytholm damstones to the waterwheel to be put in Breackneck cottage garden - and a stuff of the drift from the wheel to the dam to be laid up about the wheel towards Tilley holme - the drift should be done for 4/6 - a good price - but say 5/. said I for easy calculations’ sake and not to be exceeded - Holt thinks the wheel with 2 pumps will not be put down for £200 - then say £300 said I - SW to meet Holt on Monday morning if he, (SW) care to leave the ground from Mytholm damstones to Tilley holme stile and thence to the proposed site of the dam -

 SH:7/ML/E/17/0172

 from Mytholm dam stone to where the drift will strike in under the old road to Lower brea will not be above 20 to 30 yards of culvert which according to former calculations will cost stones and labour 10/ per yards in length - suppose therefore 30 yards culvert at 10/ = £15.0.0.

the 2 drifts from the water level to

pit to be sunk at Pump will

pay themselves by the coal got.

Rails for the above 2 drifts supposing

1 ton to do 60 yards in length

Pump-pit sinking about 60 yards deep

 Drift from dam stone to wheel  at 5/. =

Ditto from wheel to dam at 5/. =

water wheel and setting up

 Left the men to return by Charles Howarth’s and Holt and I came up the walk - a great deal has been said about the Spiggs colliery - Stocks has bought Keighleys share - they are talking quite big about my not being able to stop the Loose - S- says they will get the paper I gave them stamped, and it will be enough to secure the Loose forever - I said before Manns and them all I was quite satisfied - I laughed and I said I would put out a few handbills publishing the paper I had given them that everybody might know clearly what is was - if that was enough for the Spiggs people, I was contented - I did not wish to withhold it - Holt thinks he can manage to get Mrs. Machan’s coal but not for £300 - thinks it cannot be had for less than £400 - for Mr. R- knows all about it and will bid up - tho’ he cannot get it for many years - well! said I, we must have it - cannot be settled till April - 1 son not of age till 9 April and one daughter now in York castle for debt - Rained all the while we were out more or less latterly pretty sharply - left Holt to go to the Manns and I came in at 12 35 - wettish - changed my clothes - a little while with A- then wrote all the above of today till 2pm - fair for nearly the last hour - highish wind - has blown the flags dry - at 2 wrote the letter for my father to ‘Mr Freeman Brier Lodge Southowram’  containing copy of letter my father had yesterday from Mr George Higham of Brighouse addressed to him as one of the inhabitants of Southowram who signed the retainer employing Mr H- to resist an indictment on account of road intended?  to be thrown upon the town - business concluded 18 months ago - bill £255.165 - sent in a month ago - no notice taken - Mr H- now insists upon having calls for his money in a fortnight or 3 weeks from the date of his letter 24th instant - say my father is anxious to know what Mr F- and the other gentlemen who signed the retainer will think proper to do and will be particularly obliged to Mr F- to call here as soon as he can as my father’s health does not at present permit his attending any public meeting - Read the above letter to my father and Marian and the latter kept me near an hour - John took the letter about 3 ¼ - Had Best collector of poor rate for Northowram - my father paid 1/ for Breakneck cottage last 1/2 year from 1 October 1834 and I paid for Cowgate wood but not pay for the cottages bought of William Green - desired the rates  of the cottages and all the Staups buildings to be put in the names of the tenants - with A- from 3 ½ to 5 25 looking over her summary of valuation, rents and etc of the joint property - snow shower and continued snow from 5pm till now 5 35 - ground white again - dinner at 6 ½ and coffee in about an hour - then had George in my study who wanted to speak to me Thought he ought to tell me what he saw not going right in the house  Matthew occasionally takes a glass or two of wine but says my aunt drinks more than anybody in the house he helps to the meat at dinner and does not help fairly  favours Eugénie and Sharp  walks out with the former and plays cards with her after all the rest are gone to bed George does not like to see things go on as they do in this house   thanked him warned him to take warning from all this and added much good advice. Just before dinner and afterwards  read  from p. 155 to 170 Philip on the preservation of health from 8 ¼ to 9 20 had Oddy up nothing more agreeable about Eugénie and Matthew  they sit on each other’s knee in the kitchen and all is sad told Oddy I would try to find them out but if I could not in the course of a fortnight she really must tell me openly what was going on and siding my writing desk till 9 20

[izcana]

Tommy and the Newt Pt. 2

Gaston's Proposal (animated & film) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fR_GD6TDa4

***

Thomas strolled home, one hand clasping his basket with bread and the other holding his book. Monsieur Anderson was really too kind.

Janson took this as the perfect chance to flirt. "Morning, Tom, you look gorgeous today!"

Thomas eyed Janson wearily. He's been doing that ever since Thomas knew what courting was. Perhaps before that, too. Janson was never one for formalities or being "proper". He did as he pleased, and strangely, no one seemed to mind him except for Thomas. "Morning to you, too, Monsieur Janson."

Janson waved his hand and winked flirtatiously, which Thomas silently gagged at. "No need for formalities, Sweetheart." He handed Thomas the bundle of colourful flowers. "For you."

"Uhmm...Thank you...And please don't call me 'Sweetheart'" Thomas squirmed uncomfortably and then skipped the next couple of steps to his house, shoving the bundle of flowers back at Janson quickly. Janson followed behind, chasing after the boy. Unfortunately, Janson had tons of practice and he knew how to run. Unfortunately. Though to Thomas' credit, he did manage to avoid Janson for a short while.

"How about I come over for dinner this evening?" He proposed.

"How about...no?" Thomas asked and turned his head away, wincing as if he had just drunk raw lemon juice.

"How did it go?" Leavitt asked eagerly, eyeing the bundle of flowers still in Janson's hands.

Janson grabbed his collar. "I will have Thomas as my husband, no doubt about that!"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Leavitt said, flailing his short legs desperately.

***

"I'm home, Papa!" Thomas yelled, waving the bread at Jorge, his father.

"I can see that, Son," Jorge chuckled heartily, his intense gaze on the trinket on his hand never wavering except for the moment when he looked at his son. He turned his eye and immediately switched to a frustrated scowl.

"Is something wrong?" Thomas asked, pointing at the music box.

"The egg doesn't open," Jorge said. "I think one of the screws got tangled with the wire clog."

Thomas took the music box and hit it against the table. The wooden cover hit the wooden table with a hollow thud and the chick peeked out of the egg. All the elements were painted in careful strokes. Jorge was always so careful with his work, even though he didn't make a lot of money from it. He sold at fairs to the merchant class, mostly. There was not a person in town who didn't know the other, of course, but Jorge Arismendi's name was always said disdainfully and looked down upon, not that Thomas or Jorge cared too much. "There, problem solved."

"Thanks, Tom," Jorge said, smiling at his son. "You really are a miracle."

"It was nothing," Thomas murmured wistfully, thinking of the miracles in the world that he had yet to experience. Thinking of how Jorge used to call Brenda, his mum, a miracle.

"No, it was something, Son," Jorge said, using his large hands to tilt Thomas' head up.

"Papa..." Thomas hesitated. "Do you think I'm odd?"

Jorge scoffed. "My son? Odd? Don't listen to those silly villagers, Tom," He said, firmly. "We just see what they don't."

"More than this provincial life," Thomas echoed.

"Yes."

"When do you have to leave for the fair?" Thomas asked, changing the topic. Jorge went to these fairs monthly, and it was just another one of those things that Thomas was tired of; this same simple routine every day, every month, every year, like clockwork. There was no change to it and Thomas was sick of it, frankly. He had no clue how those people could raise generations in this boring village and call it "quaint and comfortable". Thomas had only lived there for less than a decade, and he was driven crazy. That insane urge to do something new came to him again, like an itch he couldn't scratch, echoing deep in his skull.

"Tomorrow," Jorge said. "I'm all packed," he added, pointing to the bags in the corner.

"Did you make sure to feed Alby and ready his saddle and–––" Alby was their horse. He was a palomino horse with an abnormally dark coat of hair, his mane tossed back and chasing after the wind proudly, just like the rest of him. Alby'd been with them through thick and thin, a loyal and stubborn companion and partner. Jorge and Thomas treated him wonderfully, of course, and it was like they respected him as an equal. He was the only living thing that Thomas loved aside from his papa and his late mother.

"Relax, Mijo," Jorge said, chuckling. "I'm all decked out. You really worry too much about little old me." Nonetheless, he looked sombre. They both knew that Thomas felt like he had to protect his father after he lost his mother, even though it wasn't even remotely close to being his fault. "Do you want anything from the fair?"

Again, like clockwork. Thomas replied the same. "A rose, please," he requested, smiling shyly.

"You always ask for a rose," Jorge comments blandly. He knew why. It was one of the only rare ways that his son could connect with his dead mother. Brenda loved roses; she always had them planted in the garden, in pots around their old house, and she would weave flowers into Thomas' hair and spray on homemade rose perfume. Jorge knew that Brenda was the reason why Thomas loved wearing dresses and they still made rose perfume (not to sell, they wanted it to be a "just family" thing).

"And you always bring it," Thomas counters.

Jorge sighed, resigned. "Alright, I shall bring you back a rose in a little less than a fortnight."

***

Jorge left first thing in the morning. Thomas was awake reading, so thankfully he was awake to bid his father goodbye. "Be careful on the way, Papa!" Thomas cried. "I heard there are wolves in the forest you're crossing, you should –––"

"I know, Mijo," Jorge sighed, exasperated. "I'm bringing two knives with me."

"Okay, thank goodness." Thomas let out a stressed breath. "Bye, Papa." He hugged Jorge fiercely and looked on as Jorge mounted Alby and got him into a brisk walk.

"See you soon, Son!" Jorge called back. Thomas only waved, smiling slightly bitterly.

It was not early enough for most of the villagers to be awake, yet, so Thomas decided that he wanted to keep reading.

There was a knock on the door. Thomas glanced at the clock – it read a quarter past 9. He had missed his shopping time, too intrigued by the book. It didn't really matter, since he had gone yesterday, he still had plenty of vegetables and bread.

No. The thing that was antagonising him was that the only person that would be knocking on the door would be Janson. And Thomas was not in the mood to be "entertained" by Janson. He knew this, why? He had checked every single person that could have been coming. The milkman. No, they had milk delivered every other day, which would be tomorrow. The postman. No, they never got mail. Someone handing the news that Papa had an accident? Thomas checked that one off immediately, trusting Jorge to take care of himself, however fearing all the same.

A cold shiver ran through his spine. It wasn't the latter, was it?

He opened the door, ripping off the band-aid. Thank goodness, Thomas thought. However, there wasn't too much to be thankful for as Janson was still outside his door.

"Good morning, Tom," Janson said suavely. "I am here to propose again. I see you've rejected my last proposal, but I'm sure you'll change your mind..."

Thomas groaned. "No, Janson, we can't be together," he insisted.

Janson loomed in front of Thomas, backing him against the wall, consequently inviting himself into the house. He put his muddy boots on Thomas' book first, and then he kicked off his shoes revealing socks with a hole on the toe. "Can't you just imagine it...my latest kill roasting by the fire, my perfect husband massaging my feet. We'll have dogs and children, 6 or 7 of them!"

Thomas laughed nervously, shrinking close to the fireplace and covering his nose. He made a note to spray some rose perfume in the room after Janson left. "Dogs or children?"

"Both!" Janson announced grandly. "Do you know who that husband will be, Tom?"

"I can't imagine who..." Thomas stuttered, backing towards the door. His plan was to be cornered against the door and push Janson forcefully out of his door. Hopefully, it works.

"You, Tom," Janson said. "We'll have plenty of children, too, all strapping young boys like me."

Doesn't he know how babies are made? Thomas questioned inside his head, deciding not to voice it out, though. The sooner he could get Janson out of his house the better, and he was not wasting time making polite chit-chat to Janson; he already made it clear that they weren't on the best terms with each other. "Janson, I'm not going to marry you!"

"Do you know what happens to beautiful kids like you who aren't married after their fathers die?" Janson questioned. "Think about Katie!" Katie McVoy was the woman living on the streets, begging for food. Katie was less than 10 years older than Thomas and you could tell she was beautiful, once, but she had long traded that beauty for early wrinkles and seemingly permanent bruise-like smudges of shadows underneath her eyelids and weary blue orbs.

"Janson, I won't marry you!" Thomas said and turned the door nob, ducking on cue. Janson went tumbling out and Thomas closed the door swiftly, throwing Janson's boots out while touching as little of the foul-smelling shoe as possible.

***

 Part I | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X

[tarotdeckshuffle]

Love Letters from the Chocobros + Ravus, Luna, Cor, Nyx, and Ardyn

Earlier I wrote a love letter from Ravus that I really enjoyed writing, so I thought I’d do one for all of my favs! I sliiightly edited Ravus’s as well and included it here!

You wake up to find that your S/O has left in the middle of the night without waking you. This is how each would let you know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noctis

Noctis would send you a simple text message after he left. He likes to send everything that’s on his mind in one long message. He’d likely text you each night with updates and to hear from you. Texting is his jam.

This man so rarely communicates with anyone that it is truly special for him to have a message chain with you. You can bet that he never deletes anything you send him. You’ll probably also get King’s Knight invites. Playing the game together helps you two feel closer, even if you can’t be.

Hey, we had to leave like suuuuper early. Didn’t want to wake you. I hope your day goes well. I’ll try to text you when I can, probs when we stop tonight. I miss you. I can’t wait to get back. Love you.

[Simple, but sent to you as soon as he’s functional (so like noon)]

Prompto

Prompto would also text, but he’d send a selfie with either heart stickers all over it or doing the heart hands thing (or both, depending on how much time he has). He also sends multiple messages as things come to him. Prepare for a cheese fest with this cutie.

You know you’re special with Prompto because he always replies as soon as he can, we’re talking like a three second response time. If he can’t respond right away, he’ll apologize profusely when he does text you. He’d use tons of emojis, just...all of them. Prompto is probably the only one who you can reach out to whenever you want and he’ll always try to make time for you.

Hey babe! <3 sorry I left without waking you. Don’t be mad, ok? You looked just so cute sleeping. See?!

[sends you the photo of you sleeping we all know he took]. How are you so pretty EVEN WHEN YOURE ASLEEP?<3<3<3<3

Save the spot next to ya for me! I’ll be back before you know it![thumbs up]

[There’d be a pause in the messages as he becomes serious]

I miss you already...I love you. Remember that, ok?

Ignis

Iggy would want to be a classic romantic by leaving you a letter, but he’d also opt for practicality above all else. His actions would speak louder than words. He’d likely leave a note and a flower on the counter for you, next to the already prepared coffee, a breakfast that takes little to prepare, and all of the dishes done.

This man is one of the best strategists in all of Eos. He’d know every plan the two of you made better than you would and would be utterly disappointed that he had to skip out on them due to his sudden departure. Knowing him, he’d pull all the necessary strings to make sure your plans would be rescheduled for his return.

[Note]

Urgent business to attend to. Will return promptly.

Love,

Ignis

[A text message at his first possible opportunity]

Love,

I apologize for my sudden departure. Matters progressed quicker than expected, making it imperative to leave. Please know that I will be home to you as fast as possible.

I’m deeply sorry that I will miss all of the plans we made for this weekend. I made arrangements for us to visit the Royal Gardens upon my return and I have moved all of our reservations.

You will find a surprise awaiting you tonight! [It’s likely he ordered you your favorite takeout to be delivered when you return from work and flowers to be delivered at the same time.]

I love you. Be safe.

-Ignis

[Ignis would want to call you in the evening, but Gladio always finds the best conversation spots before him and he doesn’t want to be away from his duties for long.]

Gladio

Gladio loves being close to his beloved, so he’d probably risk waking you to kiss you before he left. He’d also call you and leave a voicemail the first chance he got.

Gladio makes sure that everything is personal with those he loves, so texting would be out of the question for him unless it was his only option. While he’s very learned, I don’t see him as enjoying giving you letters, perhaps because his handwriting is so bad? Perhaps because it’s still too distant for him. He’d rather take the time and call you each night. He aches to hear your voice.

This man doesn’t like using the L-word, but for him, “Be safe” means about the same thing. He really loves domestic life and would be disappointed about ruined plans, regardless of how simple they were.

[Voicemail left for you]

Hey babe,

Sorry I had to leave so early. I tried to wake you, but [chuckles] we both know how that normally goes. I got called out on an escort that had to leave before dawn. I shouldn’t be gone for too long, but I’ll let you know more details as I can.

[He’d pause to take a deep breath]

I know we made plans together for this weekend. It kills me that I won’t be able to make them, now, but duty calls, ya’know? [a forced laugh] I rented one of the movies you wanted to see, it’s by the TV. And yes, you can have my leftovers. [He chuckles again at the normal fights over leftovers you two have.]

[He sighs and gets quiet after trying to lighten the mood]

I really do miss you.

I won’t be able to answer my phone most of the time, so I’ll call you when I get a chance.

Be safe for me.

Ravus

Ravus’s letter to you would a full love letter, done on his personal stationary, sealed in an envelope, and your name beautifully written on the front. It may be brief (for him) due to the sudden need for his departure, but it’d still be one of the most eloquent letters of the bunch.

This man loves you so much, but he doesn't always know how to say it. That’s why he loves writing to you: he can take the time and think about how he wants to express himself. He knows the perils of his position and always fears he may never see you again. That’s why he leaves you physical letters, so that if the worst should happen, you have something to hold and remember him by.

My Dearest Star,

I must leave you as Chancellor Izunia has discovered “urgent business” that must be attended to at this late hour. With the morning light you shall wake and I shall be dreaming of you.

While a great distance may separate us so unexpectedly, know that I will do all that is in my power to make sure that my time away from you is limited:  I hope to return to your arms within a fortnight.

I realize that my schedule grows tiresome on you. I promise that, upon my return, every moment I breathe shall be devoted to you and your desires. I long to bask in the radiance of your smile and to lay my hands upon the perfection that is your body, once again.

Your love is the greatest treasure I have been fortunate enough to be granted.

May the astrals watch over you until you are safe by my side.

With all my love,

Ravus

Luna

You are in love with the busiest woman in all of Eos, good luck. She would want to be romantic, having learned from her brother, but she doesn’t have the time or the means as she seeks out the astrals. To make up for this, she’d likely leave you notes at every gas station and town she passed through, hoping someone would recognize you and give you the note. Sometimes, she’d even call you, when she got your number right and had free access to a phone. Umbra and Gentiana would deliver messages to you whenever Luna could spare them, but that’s not often seeing as they’re also assisting the True King.

The fact that she’s taking any time to think of you and reach out to you is special. Yes, it’s a unique way that doesn’t always work (who knows how many notes are out there), but the creative solution to the problem is very special to you; it shows she really put time into thinking about it. It’s like a scavenger hunt for your love!

[First Note, given to you by Cindy]

Dearest Beloved,

I write to inform you that I am safe beyond Insomnia’s walls. Contrary to my deep desire to await your arrival here, I must continue on. I hope to see you soon.

Please be safe. I love you.

Your Dearest,

Lunafreya

[Second Note: Left at a campsite for you by Gentiana]

Dearest,

I’m so happy that this note has reached you. Know that my heart belongs to only you and my every thought includes you.

I head onwards to the astrals. Meet me soon.

Your Beloved,

Lunafreya

[Third Note: Left at the gate to the Meteor of the Six]

Dearest Love,

If you are reading this, I have already moved on. While my duty lies with Noctis, know that my heart lies with you. Please, come to me.

I await you where my tears meet the sea.

All My Love,

Luna

[A call from Luna]

[Hello?]

Hello!

Oh, my treasure! How I’ve missed your voice!

No, I must speak!

I’m afraid I cannot wait any longer, I must leave!

I’ll wait for you in Altissa!

Please hurry, I’m afraid my heart cannot take much more of your absence.

I miss you. Are you safe? Are your travels well? Have my notes reached you?...

[You calm her anxiety by simply saying, “I love you, Luna.”]

[you hear her sigh]

I love you, too.

[shouting in the background]

I have to leave.

Take care, but I’ll see you soon…

Cor

This man loves you, but he is ALL ABOUT practicality. He’s too slow at texting you, so he’d probably just call you later after he leaves you with a kiss.

Cor is a hard man to figure out. Looking from the outside in, it’s hard to tell just how much he loves you. But to you, it’s the little efforts he’s constantly making. Like he’d get the coffee ready to go before he leaves and maybe leave a note on the counter saying “Be back soon.-Cor.” You know he loves you because this dedicated workaholic makes the time to call you ever so often. While he doesn’t say much, you are one of the only personal calls he makes, so it’s extra special.

[Voicemail]

Hey…

I had to leave early on...royal business. I can’t say more. You...slept through it. [He knows not to bring up your sleeping habits by now but you can imagine the teasing smile on his face.]

Some of the guard may come by to check on you, I put in a request for it. Sorry, but just to be sure.

I’ll call you later.

I love you.

Bye.

[Between the two of you, it’s implied that he misses you, but he leaves you so often that you just know it. So much goes unsaid between you two, but you know you’ll regret it one day. Cor must know it, too.]

[The next day, Cor actually sends you a message!]

I miss you. I love you.

[Cor likes to bring you flowers from wherever he was when he returns.]

Nyx

Nyx would be out the door so often that text messages would be the norm. He’d be another one that you knew to read between the lines with.

This man would use so many shortcuts. Anything to be able to send you a message in his few spare seconds. Knowing him, he often gets his phone broken, so you get messages from new numbers a lot. But you know Nyx loves you because the man that can’t remember to eat or bathe regularly has your number memorized.

If his shifts are inside Insomnia, he’d stop by your work or apartment to steal a kiss if he found even one moment to spare.

Had to go early. Emergency. Be back tonight. Love you.

[or]

Heading out for a few. I love you. Libertus will b by l8r.

[The mere fact that Nyx is texting you shows that he cares. He typically doesn’t communicate if he doesn’t care at all.]

[If you tell him you love him.]

I love you too. I miss you. It’ll be awhile, but wait for me. I’m coming home.

Ardyn

This overdramatic wonderful man is a spectacle to behold. If you thought leaving you notes was romantic, this man is over the top. He leaves a full paper letter to you, left pinned to your door (to make your neighbors blush), AND sends you a dozen roses later in the day to show the ENTIRE WORLD that he loves you.

A good way to describe Ardyn is that he lingers. He would make his party wait to leave until after he gave you a long, slow kiss before he left. He’d stop by your apartment or work if given the chance and likely be there for at least an hour. He’s immortal and has all the time in the world, so he may as well spend as much of it as he can with you.

My dearest, sweetest [Y/N],

You have my sincerest apologies for my sudden departure. Unfortunately, urgent business must be attended to.

While attending to said duties, you will be a constant presence in my thoughts. I find my mind wandering to the sound of your voice, the softness of your skin, the smell of your hair, and the light in your eyes. You are a most welcome distraction to the monotony of bureaucracy.

Know that upon my return, you shall be treated like the royalty you are. I shall pull you into my lap and take the time to kiss you that you deserve. The bindings of clothing will melt away, that I may bask in the radiance of your body, taking my time to properly worship every inch of you. Your moans will be the sultry and sweet tones of a choir to the gods above. Oh, to have the taste of you on my lips again. May the entirety of Eos hear our love and have jealousy bloom in their hearts, knowing that you, the most beautiful and perfect human, nay, you must be a god yourself, is mine and mine alone!

Oh,I’m giddy for my return just imagining it.

My nights shall be lonely without you by my side, but know that I will stop at nothing to return to you. I have arranged everything, that you may want for naught until my return.

You have all of my heart, my beloved, my treasure, my starlight.

Your Beloved,

Ardyn

[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Skele-ton of Tricks and Treats (baon)

Summary: It’s Halloween and Stretch is playing chaperone for the neighborhood kiddos....help?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Humor, Fluff, Neighborhood Kiddos

Notes: Like I couldn’t have Stretch trick or treating? October has to wrap up with a bang!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

If Stretch had any complaints about his less than traditional years of schooling, they were all canceled out by the simple fact that he’d never had to ride a school bus.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wincing at they hit yet another bump that the shocks completely failed to absorb. Less shocks and more like vaguely startleds at this point, and they sure as hell weren’t keeping any of it to themselves.

The seats were their own nightmare and yeah, okay, it was a fair guess that there weren’t many school grade kids at his height. Which was a damn good thing because the only way Stretch fit was cramming in sideways and letting his legs dangle out into the aisle.

When he’d agreed to chaperone this trip into Ebott, he’d kinda thought his years of bus riding would serve him well here. Not so much; the city buses weren’t first class or anything and he was still waiting on a steward to offer to fluff his pillow, but at least on those he wasn’t worried about knocking himself out with his own knees.

But eh, all of that was a me-problem. A glance back into the bus showed nothing but the excited faces of ghosts and ghoulies, along with maybe a few characters from Fortnight.

The parents that came along had a dash of apprehension thrown in to their excitement. Not that Stretch blamed ‘em. Last year they’d planned to take the kiddos into Ebott and after the fire at the Beanery, that little jaunt was canceled. The kids still got in their trick or treats in New New Home, but they’d been pretty damn disappointed to miss their chance at showing off their costumes to an all new audience.

This year, Edge stepped in to help with the planning, started laying in the foundation way back in the summertime. Thinking about it made Stretch smile a little, cause wasn’t that his baby through and through? Busy as he was, he’d helped the school administrators connect with their local Ebott counterparts to introduce Monster kids to Human ones. They’d all had assemblies together in both Ebott and New New Home and it must’ve gone okay, because they’d started planning this whole ‘trunk or treat’ event back at the beginning of the month. Knowing Edge, he’d gone over all of their proposals with a fine-tooth comb and then checked it again, just in case it changed when he wasn’t looking.

Couldn’t really blame anyone for being paranoid about this one. They needed everything to go smoothly on both sides, for plenty of reasons.

Him playing chaperone to the kids who came over for his weekend experiments was a little unexpected, and that was the truth. Stretch wasn’t exactly convinced it was the best idea considering a lot of people probably assumed he needed constant adult supervision himself, his bro included. But the kiddos were excited and two of them had asked for him to paint their faces as skeletons again. Like he could say no to that?

His own costume was Jack Skellington, the same one Edge gave him last year. Damn shame that he hadn’t really worn it since then; his argument that Jack Skellington existed 365 and therefore was perfectly appropriate for grocery shopping didn’t go far with Edge and sitting around the house in it only meant he got left behind.

Spoilsport.

Another bump in the road almost sent Stretch to the floor. He managed to catch himself, settling back on the hard cushion masquerading as a seat, and wondered ruefully how Edge was doing with his ride.

Edge was bringing in his group from the Y for the event and Stretch wasn’t gonna lie, he was a little nervous about meeting them. Edge didn’t really offer to bring him along on Wednesdays and Stretch wasn’t sure why that was, but it also wasn’t a question Stretch really wanted answered. Could be a hundred different reasons, really. Humans could be weird about what they saw as same-sex relationships, or maybe Edge was fussed over his HP. Maybe there was paperwork and shit they’d have to do for him to be allowed and Edge hadn’t gotten around to it.

Maybe Edge thought they wouldn’t like him.

Whatever, he was gonna meet them today. He’d even made candy bags like last year to add in to the rest of the treats, so all the kids would be plenty sugared up by the end of the night. Kids liked candy, they’d probably like the people who gave it to them too, right?

The bus jolted to a stop with enough force that a loud chorus of yelps and groans went around. By the time Stretch untangled his limbs enough to stand, all the kids were crowding into the aisle, the siren call of candy irresistible.

“Hold on a second!” One of the teachers at the front called and reluctant silence fell. Even Stretch quailed a little under that stern look, even if Teach up there was about a foot shorter than him. “What are the rules?”

“Stay with your chaperone.” Came an uneven recitation and she nodded.

“That’s right. Can I get chaperones to raise their hands?”

There was a title Stretch never expected to have. Hands rose overhead. Stretch shrugged and raised his too, pressing his palm to the roof of the bus. His kiddos giggled and, yeah, he was pretty sure he was hard to miss. But hey, he had be a team player or he wouldn’t get invited to prom.

“Very good. And the second rule?”

“Be on your best behavior!”

“Be on your best behavior, right!” She nodded, pleased. “We are here representing all Monsters, and we need to be on our best behaviors. Now, let’s go, single file, no pushing, and you will all stand with your chaperone when we get off the bus.”

“hear that, guys?” Stretch muttered to his group. “try not to lose me in the crowd.”

They all giggled softly, earning a look from the teacher that Stretch returned with pure innocence. He didn’t think she bought it, but that was fair. He hadn’t really been able to pull innocent off since he’d lost his stripes, probably not even before that.

His first step off the bus was met with a flurry of flashes and shouts. Stretch blinked at the various people standing around with cameras, trying to cram in closer to get a picture and calling his name. Humans in uniforms were standing in front of the wooden barricades holding them back and that was the only thing keeping them from scrambling over and probably right into his lap.

Oh, great, the press’d caught wind. Lovely. Probably even been invited but a reminder would’ve been nice, especially since Stretch was gonna end up with his picture in the paper again.

Stretch plastered on his cheeky public grin and waved, holding his kiddos back with one arm. He leaned it and said to them, low, “big smiles, okay, guys? we got this, just follow me around to the other side of the bus.”

Oscar was in the lead, his eyes wide beneath his mask, and he nodded, pinning on a wide grin that didn’t quite meet those anxious eyes. Stretch kept up his own smile as they filed off the bus, guiding them around the front of the bus and out of sight.

“good job,” Stretch told them, heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief and wiping away imaginary sweat. “when it comes to the press, you gotta keep smiling and keep walking, got it?”

“Yes, Mister Stretch Papyrus Sir,” came in a chorus and Stretch shook his head, scruffing a rough hand over a couple costumed heads.

“you’re all brats,” Stretch told them affectionately and they giggled, empty candy bags rustling.

The parking lot was closed off on the other sides, the press could only look in from the entrance. That had Edge’s influence all over it; enough of this would hit the news and social media to make the higher ups happy, but without stressing the kids out with too much attention.

Directly in front of them were rows of cars parked around in a sort of maze, their trunks open and even from here Stretch could see the buckets of candy, the decoration and lights, and the faint sound of ‘thriller’ playing out from an open window.

The kids were already shuffling their feet, eyes on the prize. “soon, guys, let everyone get here first.”

Even as he spoke from around the bus came a roar from the gathered crowd and another vehicle pulled in through the gate. This one was more of a van and was painted with the happy faces of children and the YMCA logo.

That’d be Edge’s group then and Stretch was shuffling as much as the kids by the time the door opened. Edge came out first, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, which was practically a costume for him, anyway. Despite Stretch’s well-thought out Powerpoint on why Edge should dress as Santa, (since he wouldn’t do Sally, seriously, total spoilsport), in the end, Edge pointed out he’d be a skeleton dressed as Santa, which would technically make them both Jack Skellington and that was more cliché than he could stomach in one serving.

Meh, whatever, and Stretch had to admit, this was the first time he’d ever seen Edge in a YMCA volunteer sweatshirt. Not a bad look on him, especially since he wore those jeans tight, damn, baby.

He caught sight of Stretch almost immediately, but his attention was focused inside the van. Lip reading wasn’t exactly workable for skeletons, but Stretch didn’t need to hear what he was saying to his group to know exactly what it was. Stay with your group, best behavior, yadda yadda. Been there, heard it, keep the t-shirt, he had plenty.

Edge backed away from the door and kids started coming out like the ghoulish version of a clown car. Not that Stretch knew what to expect from Edge’s kids, despite hearing about them often. They looked pretty much like the Human-flavor of his own group. Ghosties, ghoulies, a couple skeletons and Stretch was pretty sure he recognized Edge’s hand with their makeup.

They followed Edge across the lot with the same uncomfortable smiles as Stretch’s minions, until both groups stood face to face.

There was a moment of silence, each group eying the other warily. Stretch swallowed, a certain tightness surrounding his soul. Press he could handle with a careless smile and keeping the language to PG-13. But these kids meant something to Edge; he spent time with them every week, sometimes helped their families with paperwork for different kinds of assistance, got the boys into special programs. He knew every one of them by name, their parents’ names, and whoever was listed on their pickup cards. A couple of them he’d known longer than Stretch and Edge had been together, they were important to him and—

“You gonna say hi to your boyfriend or what?” From the shortest kid in Edge’s the group, one of the skeletons. His grin was far more honest now than he’d worn walking past the press.

Edge ignored the rising laughter. “Excuse you, he is my husband, and yes, I am. Hello, love.”

“heya.” Stretch waggled his fingers at them all, “how’s it going, guys.”

“He’s real tall.” From one of the other Human children, this one dressed as a robot, if you assumed that scientists decided aluminum foil was suitable construction material.

“So am I,” Edge said, pointed out.

“Not as tall as Stretch,” Oscar said doubtfully and a murmur of agreement went through both groups.

Stretch only grinned smugly at Edge’s exasperated sigh. “Yes, thank you, Stretch does have height superiority over me, and little else.”

A gleeful ‘oooooooh’ went through their miniature crowd and Stretch barked a laugh. “i do love to hear your sweet-talk, babe.”

But he couldn’t help tensing as the small skeleton in Edge’s group stepped closer, peering at Oscar. All of these children had enough HP to withstand some force or they wouldn’t have been allowed to come, but Humans often didn’t understand how easily their intent could hurt. Oscar knew firsthand, knew from his mother being in the hospital, and he was familiar with Antwan and Jeff, and yet—

Oscar’s skeleton mask didn’t quite conceal all his fur and his ears poked through his hood, far too sensitive to be pinned down for any length of time. He stood wide-eyed as the Human skeleton gave him a thorough once-over.

“Cool costume,” said the Human child, finally and his painted grin widened. “Wanna get some candy?”

“Yeah!” Oscar said excitedly, and both of them dashed towards the open trunks, the others trailing behind with hoots of laughter.

“No running, you’ll trip!” Edge called after them. They slowed to what might arguably be called a fast trot, candy bags raised as the treat givers started passing out handfuls. “Come on, let’s catch them before they get too far ahead.”

“I love you,” Stretch said abruptly. Because it was true. Because Edge worked so hard for this to make all these kids happy. Because he needed to hear Edge say it back and he did, with a soft smile of his own.

“I love you, too.” Edge started to take his hand and blinked when Stretch drew away.

“yeah, okay, love and hugs, let’s catch up, i need to get my own treats.”

Edge’s confusion morphed into a pretty amazing amount of horror. “You are not.”

Stretch blew a raspberry at him and hurried after the kids. “heck yeah, i am! brought a bag and everything!”

Edge closed his sockets, pained, but he didn’t say a word as Stretch shook out a bright orange plastic bag decorated with grinning jack o’lanterns.

The line went pretty quick, a Human dropping generous handfuls of candy into every bag, exclaiming over costumes as each child chirped a thank you.

She paused as Stretch stepped up.

“trick or treat!” Stretch offered with what he was positive was a winsome smile, giving his empty bag a little shake.

Winsome didn’t seem to be winning today. She eyed him up and down and said, dryly, “You’re pretty tall for a kid.”

“He is, indeed,” Edge agreed and Stretch could feel his grin going a little strained, hopeful imaginings of candy winging away. “But he’s never been trick or treating before.”

It was like turning on her sympathy switch. Instantly, the woman softened, and her smile was filled with same compassion that likely filled her soul, “Of course. Well, then, let me give you your first trick or treat candy.”

Into his bag went the same generous handful that the other kids got. Stretch beamed at her and hopefully his greedy delight was to be expected, “thanks!”

“Wonderful costume,” she called as they followed the kiddos to the next car.

After that, it was damn easy. A couple pieces of candy always called for their brethren to join them and despite the double-takes and a couple bemused smiles from the Monster volunteers, no one questioned Stretch’s trick or treats. By the last car, all the kids had bulging sacks, with guilty chocolate smears on their faces or sucker sticks poking from their mouths.

Most of them were digging through their bags for more and Stretch crouched down to join them, pawing through the brightly colored wrappers like Scrooge checking his gold.

A presence at his side made Stretch look over to see the short skeleton peering into his bag. “Aw, you got a full size Reese’s! Peanut butter cups are the best!”

Hmmm. “i’ll trade you for two charms suckers,” Stretch offered. The kid goggled at him and immediately began digging through his bag. That was all it took for other kids to crowd in and the trade wars to begin. Negotiations were fierce and while Stretch had grown up bartering on the streets of New New home for all kind of stuff, these kids proved to be shrewd dealers. In no time, most of his chocolate was traded away for suckers and Stretch was pretty sure he’d earned that title for himself.

Eh, that was fine. Those caramel apple ones were worth the price.

That was Edge’s cue to step up and announce, “If you’re all quite finished, it’s time to get back on the buses.”

The cool night air was filled with disappointed groans. Monster and Human children alike hastily exchanged phone numbers and online handles, getting a last few selfies in while Edge and Stretch watched.

Stretch was blinking pretty damn hard by the end, watching all that friendship in the making. Looked like costumes and candy were a universal language.

As Edge began herding his group back to the van, Stretch remembered that snark about his height and called out to him, “see you at home, mama bear!”

The explosion of laughter from his group was as sweet as the sucker in his mouth, and Stretch grinned smugly around the stick as Edge turned back to him and said with dark promise, “You certainly will.”

Oh, yeah, that could mean so many terrible, wonderful things. Worth it.

His own group began to wander forlornly in the direction of the bus, lugging their bags along.

“Mister Stretch Papyrus Sir?”

He looked down at Oscar. “yeah, kiddo? did you have fun?”

The kid’s mask was tucked into his bag with his candy, those huge damn eyes of his hopeful. He nodded solemnly. “Yes. Will we get to play with them again?”

That was the dream, wasn’t it? Humans and Monsters together, having fun and being friends, and kids who cared more about the costume than underneath it.

Felt like it was taking a long damn time to get there, but this seemed like a pretty decent start.

Stretch lightly tweaked the end of one long ear. “i hope so, kiddo. c’mon, let’s head out.”

Both of them paused and smiled gamely for the press before climbing on the bus, Stretch struggling to lower himself back into his torture cube for the ride home.

It was all good, the drive was pretty short and Edge would be heading home as soon as he dropped off his group.

That gave Stretch a little time to prep before his honey arrived. Edge was probably thinking of a trick right now as payback, but the first one home was the one who had a chance to bait the trap.

Stretch settled into his seat with a sigh, his full candy bag nestled into his lap. There were plans to be made and Edge might be better at designing traps, but Stretch also had a claim to the name Papyrus; he knew a thing or three.

Besides, he was the damn Pumpkin King. Tonight was his night and by the end of it, they were both gonna have a treat.

-finis-