#but what i’m saying is that i don’t care that much for accuracy i see it as its own thing and i have some distance to it

[greywoe]

some thoughts on that first episode bc i might as well

- that first scene in the north did not make me very happy… maybe it’s just me who likes negotiations but i was looking forward to Jace’s World Tour of North/Eastern Westeros and his talks and bargains with the different houses (especially lady jeyne! i guess i can understand why they cut it out but i think when it comes to her there’s material to build an interesting character from, but whatever. another arryn L i guess :(), but what did we get but one (1) scene at the wall for some reason. i mean i like the night’s watch as much as the next person but this just felt like straight up GoT fanservice… like what does the threat beyond the wall have to do with this conflict? they could at least have given us some parley but there was barely anything of that either. cregan stark’s going to be important later so i thought they’d do more to establish him as a character now. but literally the next scene we see jace in he’s back at dragonstone….. ok (tho i guess they could return to the north later? idk we’ll see) (also, i care less for the sara snow subplot but i was sure they would do something with it since they love to go with the juicy stuff like forbidden love and whatnot)

- on that note i expect they’re going the singers’ route with erryk and arryk which i don’t really care for (they need to make me care more for those characters first) but it makes sense

- i’m ashamed of the fact that the alyn reveal made me go “ahh” aloud and my mum (who hasn’t read f&b) went “what???” and i just vaguely waved it off because it’s so annoying when people do that and i try not to but… i was surprised they introduced him so early

- aegon ii keeps being the most entertaining character on the show and he was the highlight to me. thank you for bringing a tinge of comedy. i’d say keep it up, but… well

- this is old discourse but i don’t have much of a problem with them showing alicent being groomed and manipulated in the show which probably makes her seem more sympathetic to viewers (and i can’t help but fall for every instance the lingering and complex feelings between her and rhaenyra that still clearly affect her come up) but now i’d like to see her being more active. i liked her confronting otto but (so far) for the most part she seemed a bit uninvolved and inactive (except for the sex scenes with criston… -_- which i guess are intended to bite them in the ass later which is why it’s continuously brought up, but so far i do not care for it). i just want to see her contributing more of her own i guess. but there’s plenty of time for that in the upcoming episodes, especially now after the death of another child 😔

- i sure hope we get to see more of baela and rhaena. this was only the first episode, i will have hope in my heart

- helaena’s line about being scared of the rats felt like clever foreshadowing when i heard it, except that the blood & cheese thing happened just a few scenes later……. suddenly it didn’t feel so clever anymore, nobody will have forgotten it at that point (the best foreshadowing imo is stuff that you maybe don’t notice at first and only catch on your rewatch)

- and about that, as relieved as i am about the violence being toned down, reading the book the whole “damning one child to die but the other one is slain, so now you and your child have to live with the fact that you named him to be killed” business was very impactful so i’m a bit disappointed nonetheless. for a show that so clearly opts for emotional impact, i mean… though i suppose cutting a kid or two out is understandable. but the way they made a whole deal about not knowing the sex of the twins (and the assassins being surprisingly gentlemanly about it lol) made me wonder if they mean to do a big plot twist where helaena was lying about it and actually rescued jaehaerys, but also that (unnecessarily) changes some things and what would be the point of that. 🤔 i did really like helaena’s acting during the scene though, opting for pure shock and dissociation rather than making it a dramatic tearfest. i like helaena as a character too, from what little we have seen of her anyway, and i wish she’d had more moments previously in the show so that we as viewers would be even more emotionally connected to her, but she gets pretty sidelined in comparison to her brothers. we don’t get to know much about her in the book so i feel like that’s what the show is for! expanding upon the book!

[idiopathicsmile]

School Gymnastics: A Tragicomedy

So one day when we were in third grade, our P.E. teacher divided us into girls and boys. (I don’t remember what the boys had to do. Wrestling? Tackle football? I don’t know, probably not at age nine, but that’s not the point. Gladiatorial combat? I still don’t really understand kids’ sports.)

What matters for this story is that all the girls had to do gymnastics. Now—and I suspect this won’t surprise you if you know literally anything about me—I was always terrible at any form of school athletics. I am intensely, almost impressively uncoordinated. This doesn’t affect my life much at 36, but it was often a miserable way to be a kid. The only playground game I liked was playing pretend, because when you are playing pretend, you don’t have a bunch of people ostensibly on your side screaming in your ear, “Pretend faster! Pretend over there! Pretend with greater accuracy!”

Anyway, gymnastics and my clumsy, doughy little body. I couldn’t do a cartwheel. I couldn’t do a backwards somersault. I couldn't do any of it. We had an entire unit on this business and I literally did not learn how to even safely attempt a single move besides the log roll (lie flat and roll sideways on your belly). In retrospect, this seems like maybe it was in part a teaching problem, not a me problem, but that’s actually not the point either.

The point is, at the end of the unit, we were told to divide ourselves into little teams and choreograph a group gymnastics routine. My group, faced with my long list of limitations (more limitation than girl, really) decide my role will be to just forwards-somersault around the rest of the group as they do their moves. (This is itself kind of embarrassing but trust me, it is but the appetizer.) My friend Ashley has the Lion King soundtrack and we all agree that it is a great choice. The movie has only come out a couple of years earlier, and it of course features some funny, peppy options. 'Hakuna Matata'? 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King'? It's all coming together.

Carried on a wave of youthful enthusiasm, none of us even think to double-check which track Ashley has picked. Foreshadowing!

So the day of the performance comes. Another group goes right before us. They had picked “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, which was a huge hit at the time. I mean, it still is because it’s a classic, but then it was big and new. They step onto the mat and immediately begin to do choreographed dance moves, which they have worked into their routine. We had not thought of this. Oops. Dance moves, of course! So they incorporate the necessary gymnastics, it goes over really well, the energy is high, and now it’s my group’s turn.

I take my place at the edge of the mat, the mat we are required to stay on for the length of the piece. Ashley cues up the track she’d chosen.

A song starts up. Instantly, I recognize it from the movie. It is the very slow instrumental music that plays when Simba realizes his dad is dead.

‘Well, this is not optimal,’ I think. I've been on this planet for nine years; I can see that much. But it’s too late to change the track, and so I tell myself, ‘It’s okay. I’m a performer. I can sell this.’ I put on an extremely solemn face and begin to execute a series of the world’s saddest somersaults.

Friends, when I say “sad” I mean it, in every possible sense of the word. Picture a nine year old with the gravest possible affect, determinedly doing somersaults to the slowest, most serious music she can imagine, in a careful ring around her friends who have actually learned any gymnastics whatsoever. Okay, now as the music starts to pick up and get more hopeful, imagine she gets real dizzy and in front of everyone, she rolls all the way directly off the mat, careening dangerously towards the assembled students.

Somehow, I roll myself back onto the mat, we survive what feels like hours of humiliation, we stagger away, and I blessedly avoid adding “puking my guts out in front of all of my peers” to my very short list of gymnastics tricks.

Later, I asked Ashley what in the world possessed her to choose that song.

“It didn’t have any words,” she said.

(There was absolutely no rule against using songs that had lyrics.)

Anyway, that’s why being an adult is better than being a kid.

I may have to do laundry and make my own dinner and wrestle with more complex existential angst, but you know what I haven’t been asked to do in like 26 years? Somersault for three minutes straight to the musical shorthand for “this cartoon lion cub has no choice but to process the weight of unimaginable grief for his dead dad.” And you know what? If I live another 50 years, I can be pretty confident nobody will ask me to do it then, either.

[dark-frosted-heart]

He Doesn’t Know That I Turned into an Animal Bonus Story

This is the bonus story involving everyone. It's utterly ridiculous

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. None of my translations are proofread until a day after posting

Victor: This is an emergencyyyy!! Come to the dining hall at once!!

When I woke up this morning and started getting ready, I heard Victor’s voice echoing through the castle.

Kate: What’s the matter Victor?! Did you make Jude mad and end up in debt?! Or did Liam and Alfons play a prank……huh?

What I saw when I came down to the dining hall made me gasp.

Beside Victor were 8 animals.

(4 cats, 3 dogs…And a fox?)

Kate: Victor, where did you find them? I think taking care of all of them will be pretty hard…

Victor: I didn’t find them from anywhere! Everyone in Crown’s become an animal!

Kate: ……Excuse me?

Victor: Last night after you went back to your room, we were all drinking when… Roger and Alfons started arguing over the most trivial things.

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: *sigh* …We’re not getting anywhere like this. Let’s settle this.

Alfons: I see, with drinks? It’s just what I was hoping for.

In the beginning, it was only Roger and Alfons competing, then gradually, the others joined in…

Roger: Hm? There’s no more drinks? I guess I’ll go get more.

Alfons: Oh, what’s this? Are you running away?

Roger: Why would I run when I’m winning? Or do you want me to run?

Liam: Okay, how about you two calm down? I’ll go fetch some instead!

Roger: Thanks Liam. Can you fetch the green bottle in my room?

Liam: Gotcha~

~~ Flashback end ~~

Victor: …After that, everyone except me drank the special alcohol Liam brought back.

Kate: You didn’t drink?

Victor: I had some work left so I couldn’t. So I just had a spot of tea when I joined them.

Kate: So you’re saying that…everyone became an animal because of the alcohol they drank?

Victor: Yes. The special alcohol Liam brought was…here it is!

Victor picked up an empty bottle from the dining table.

It was green like Roger had said, but there was a small label on it.

Kate: “Animalization. Caution: Do not drink” …Is what it says.

Victor: So it wasn’t alcohol that Liam brought, but one of Roger’s experiments!

Kate: No way…!

Victor: The bottle’s the same color as the one Roger asked Liam to get. Since Liam was drunk, he mixed them up.

—At that moment, one of the cats went to hide under the table.

(Was that Liam just now? It looked like he was hiding, but…)

(I don’t think he actually mixed them up. Rather, did he do it on purpose to satisfy his curiosity…?)

Victor: The rest of us didn’t check the label either… They all went to sleep thinking we drank alcohol instead of a drug. I gave them blankets and left. And then when I came down to the dining hall this morning… There they were, looking so cute sleeping under the blankets!

(Well bringing in all these animals would be too much for a prank…)

(So everyone really did become an animal…?)

Kate: If the drug’s one of Roger’s experiments, then there might be some clues in the infirmary.

Victor: You’re right. I’ll go look. In the meantime, can you look after everyone? I really wish I could, but…

Victor took a step closer to the animals…and they scattered like little spiders.

Victor: …Animals have always avoided me. They’re scared of me for some reason. So…I’m entrusting their safety to you. Can you do that for me?

Kate: Got it! I’ll take care of them!

Victor: Thanks, Kate…I’m really glad you’re here.

After Victor left the dining hall, I rolled up my sleeves and pumped myself up.

(Alright…First of all, I need to know who’s who. That’ll make taking care of them easier!)

While thinking up of a plan, I crouched in front of the most obvious one.

Kate: You’re Harrison, right?

Harrison (fox): ……Hm?

Kate: No, there’s no point in making that “who knows” kind of face. If you say “fox”, then it has to be Harrison!

Harrison (fox): …

For some reason, Harrison the fox looked sad.

(Normally Harrison’s lying while looking all aloof, but…)

(...He can’t do that when he’s like this. I’ll need to get him back to normal quickly)

(Next is…)

Kate: Hey, you can’t smoke as a dog!

A white dog with black spots held a cigarette with his front paw and deftly tried to light it.

I rushed over, snatched the cigarette away, and hid it in my pocket.

Kate: With those colors and the cigarette…You’re probably Jude, right? Alright, I’m pocketing them.

Jude (dog): Grrr…

Kate: Um…you sound intimidating, but you look really cute right now.

As a human, Jude would always talk down to me, but he can’t do that the way he is now.

Even while growling at me, he had a dog’s cuteness…I wanted to pet his head.

Kate: There, there…

Jude: WOOF!

Kate: …Woah!

When I tried to pet him, Jude almost bit me.

(Even as a dog, Jude’s still Jude, ruthless as ever…)

Kate: O-okay. I won’t touch you…don’t smoke and just sit tight, okay? I’m sure Victor will find a way to get you all back to normal…

Jude (dog): …

Jude sniffed in displeasure and turned his attention to the clock on the wall.

Kate: “Hurry up” huh? Understood.

(Now then…The only one who’d be near Jude is Ellis, but I don’t see him)

Kate: It really hurt my feelings when Jude almost bit me… If only an animal would let me pet him right now. It’d heal my broken heart and make me really happy!

Jude (dog): …

Jude understood what I was trying to do and looked at me as if he wanted to say something.

(He’s thinking I’m using him…but right now, I can’t even be bothered!)

Kate: Aahhhh! I want to pet someone!

I didn’t know if Ellis would fall for it, but I had to give it a try.

—In that moment.

Kate: Eek!

All of a sudden a black cat jumped into my arms.

Kate: Are you perhaps Ellis…?

Ellis (cat): Meow.

The cat that looked like Ellis replied while rubbing his forehead against my hand.

It’s like he was telling me to pet him.

Kate: Hehe, thank you.

I gratefully petted Ellis’ small head and neck. The way he purred was so cute.

Ellis (cat): …Meow, meow?

(Ah…I think I understood what you just said)

Kate: Did you ask if I’m happy right now? Yes…I’m feeling a little happier!

(Next…)

I looked under the table and spoke to the cat hiding under it.

Kate: You tried to hide from Victor and me while we were talking, so…Are you Liam?

Liam (cat): Meow!

Kate: I need to know…Did you mix up the alcohol and drug on purpose?

Liam (cat): Meow, meow?

As expected from Liam. Even as a cat, he knows how to present himself and meows in a cute and charming way.

He was so cute that I wanted to smoosh his face with mine, but…his eyes were looking from side to side.

Kate: So you did do it on purpose…When you all turn back to human, make sure everyone gives you a scolding, okay?

Liam (cat): Meow…

(Everyone’s going to be mad at Liam while he looks down dejectedly, but…I’m sure everyone will forgive him in the end)

(Because Liam’s someone you just can’t hate)

Kate: In the meantime, please sit tight until everyone’s back to normal.

Liam (cat): Meow…

Kate: Can you keep an eye on Liam, Harrison?

Harrison (fox): Hm…

Though Harrison looked dissatisfied, he stuck by Liam’s side.

(I guess I can rest easy on that. The rest…huh?)

Looking around the dining hall, I noticed that some of the animals were missing.

(Roger, Elbert, Alfons, William…no, those four are missing!)

(Right, they just happened to be in the dining hall…there’s no way everyone in Crown would stay put!)

(I wonder where they went…)

Victor: Kate!

Kate: Victor! Did you find anything?

Victor: Yes. I know how to turn everyone back to normal. By the way, why are you here?

Kate: To tell you the truth, four people…er, animals, have gone missing from the dining hall…

Victor: Haha, my beloved cursed boys are free to be animals, aren’t they?

Kate: It’s really annoying…

Victor: Alright, let’s look for them together.

Kate: Okay!

(I’m glad that Victor’s still human)

(I think it would’ve been really hard to do this by myself…)

We checked the foyer first to rule out the possibility that they left the castle.

Victor: A nearby maid informed me that she didn’t see any dogs or cats walk out the front door.

Kate: That’s a relief! That means they’re definitely still in the castle.

Victor: Right. …By the way, what’s going on over there?

Following Victor’s gaze, I saw some mades gathered in a corner of the foyer.

Kate: That’s suspicious…Let’s ask.

When we approached the maids, we saw them surrounding a dog.

Kate: Ah, that dog…!

Victor: Yes…there’s no doubt about it. It’s Elbert!

He had silky golden fur and distressed eyes.

Even as a dog, Lord Elbert was beautiful. Adding on the charm of a dog, no one could leave him alone.

The maids were all captivated by his charms and handled him like something delicate.

(For now, I’m glad you’re safe…)

Victor immediately used sign language to explain the situation to the maids and succeeded in retrieving Lord Elbert.

Elbert (dog): Awoo…?

(Oooo, so cute…! I’d do anything for you!)

Bringing Lord Elbert along, we decided to search the halls next.

Kate: Wha-what is this…?!

The moment I turned the corner, I was shocked by a devastating scene in the hallway.

There were several cats lying around.

Kate: What in the world…are they okay?!

I rushed over and crouched down beside the cats to check on them.

(Huh? It doesn’t look like they’re hurt.)

(Writhing around in pleasure…Is this)

Victor: Mlem…There’s no doubt about it! It’s catnip!

Kate: Catnip’s…the herb that intoxicates cats, right?

Victor: Yes. It looks like someone gave the cats catnip and threw a drug party.

Kate: That’s…

Victor: No doubt we’re thinking about the same person. Let’s hurry!

We followed the trail of catnip-drunk cats to Alfons’ room.

Kate: Alfons! Please stop spreading catnip around!

When I burst into the room, the cat lying on the bed got up and looked at me languidly.

Victor: You’ve been enjoying your time as a cat, haven’t you Alfons?

Alfons (cat): Meow-ha!

Alfons laughed loudly like he did as a human and let himself get caught.

Alfons (cat): Now that just leaves Roger and William.

Kate: Where would those two be…We’ve searched everywhere we could think of.

Victor: Maybe they’re constantly moving about, or we’re always just missing each other. But I believe finding Roger’s easier than you think.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: Watch.

Victor smiled proudly and cupped his hands around his mouth.

Victor: Ah?! There’s a high-quality beer here from Her Majesty the Queen herself?! I can drink it without anyone noticing. What should I do?

(No matter how much Roger likes alcohol, there’s no way he’d fall for something so obvious…)

Just as I was thinking that, I heard light steps running toward us.

Roger (dog): Arf!

A dog with light brown fur appeared, wagging his large tail.

(...I can’t believe he fell for it)

Roger’s once again proved his hardcore love for alcohol.

After catching the three, we had them wait in the dining hall…William was the only one left.

Victor: To think that he’d be the last one for us to find…That’s William for you!

Kate: You’re right. I wonder where he went…

Victor: Hmm, shall I prepare some strawberries?

Kate: I don’t think that trick will work as well as it did with Roger…but it might be worth a try.

At that moment, a beautiful tune came into the hallway.

Kate: Victor, that’s the sound of a piano…!

Victor: Yes!

We nodded at each other and ran to the great hall.

Kate: William! Did you become human again— —Nevermind?

There was a “cat” on the piano deftly playing Minute Waltz with his front and back paws.

Kate: But it sounded a lot like William’s piano playing…

Victor: …You’re right. He’s the only one that can produce such a sound.

And then Victor and I listened to the cat play.

The final note melted into the air…We applauded the wonderful performance.

Kate: Are you…William?

William (cat): Meow.

William gracefully got off the piano and walked over to us.

Kate: …Even as animals, all of Crown’s kept their “identity” didn’t they?

Victor: You can’t hide your personality even if you want to!

--

Victor: Now that everyone’s back, I have an announcement…dalalalalala dan! According to Roger’s research, the only way to turn back is with a kiss!

Kate: K-kiss…? That kind of solution only exists in fairy tales…

Victor chuckled at my confusion and gently touched my lips with a finger.

Victor: We’re cursed here so there’s nothing strange about it.

Kate: That’s true…

Victor: Well now! It’s not something difficult, so let’s do it quickly.

(I wouldn’t be able to kiss them if they were human, but…)

(...I can probably do it with everyone as animals)

I looked at each Crown member that became an animal and prepared myself.

Kate: Got it. I— 

Victor: Now everyone, line up! I’ll give all of you a kiss with love!

Kate: Huh.

What happened after with Victor was amazing.

No animal was spared as he caught each and every one that tried to run away, and passionately kissed them…

They then all turned back into humans without an issue.

…For everyone’s sake, I’ll leave out some of the details.

[twola]

ahehehm.

i get scared when making requests but like .. soft makeup sex w arthur 🧎‍♀️

“i’m sorry baby. i know, i didn’t mean it.” UGHH this man makes me crazy

If there is one talent that Arthur Morgan has - its accuracy. With a gun, a throwing knife, any kind of weapon really.

And his words - He knows what to say to make it hurt, to stab at your chest as if he was physically driving the knife into your heart.

Your eyes cloud over with tears as you quickly turn away from him and walk in the opposite direction, nearly dashing into the woodline away from your shared tent.

Arthur remains where he stood, scowling, fists still clenched. Fine - if that’s the way you’re going to be, go run off for all he cares. He turns on his heel and goes back into the tent, yanking the canvas shut before angrily pulling the hat from his head and throwing it to the ground. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to assuage his aggravation.

Grumbling, he kicks his boots off and throws himself down in the cot, pulling his hat over his head in an exaggerated manner to try and get some rest.

He awakens much later, in the small, quiet hours of the night, and the small space in his cot next to him is still empty. His stomach drops.

Shit, were you still out there? He figured you would have crawled back into bed after calming down. He shoots up, tossing the blanket to the end of the cot and swinging his legs over the side, groping for his boots in the darkness. He shoves them back on before venturing outside, teeth clenching against the cold.

It doesn't take him long to find you, curled up against a tree a little ways away from camp. Your head is in your knees as you wrap your arms around them.

“Sweetheart.”

You raise your gaze upward, and Arthur frowns as he can at least see the glistening of tears in your eyes.

“Why would you say that to me?”

Guilt washes over him like the tide coming in. The heat of the argument earlier has subsided and he drowns in the shame of hurting you.

“Darl-” he sighs, trailing off before stripping his jacket off, stepping closer to you and draping it over your shoulders as you shiver. He stoops down next to you to sit, pressing his side against yours, and after a moment, looping his arm around you to draw you closer.

You shiver in the chill of the night, but after a moment, you lean into him, resting your head against his collarbone.

His hand rubs up and down your back gently, “ ‘m sorry - I didn’t mean it.”

Your hand slowly emerges from under his jacket and spreads out over his chest, above his heart.

“You say things like that and it makes me think you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Shit- I ain’t…” Arthur sighs, pulling you even closer against him, “You know I’m just a miserable ol’ bastard. I shoot my mouth off…”

You remain silent, but your fingers tighten at his shirt.

God, he’s such a fool.

“C’mon, let’s get back inside. You’ll catch your death out here.”

You let him lead you back from the woodline toward his tent, his hand tight around your waist the entire time back to his tent strung up against his wagon.

He pulls the canvas of the tent shut tightly against the chill of the night. You stand awkwardly within the confines of his tent, rubbing at your arm as you sniffle. He turns to you, reaching toward you as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse.

“I ain’t- I ain’t good at this.” Arthur whispers, his thumbs gently sweeping the tracks of moisture collecting on your cheeks.

“Me either.” You hiccup, leaning into his touch.

“Suppose that makes us both fools.”

You hum in agreement as you press forward to lean into his embrace fully, your arms moving from his chest around his back as his encircle you as well. You feel him place his chin lightly on the top of your head.

“Lemme show you then.” He rasps, pulling away from you slightly, his hands pressing against your back to pull you up to him into a kiss.

His tongue presses into your mouth as his grip around your waist tightens. You moan softly, and he returns the noise, one hand moving to squeeze your rear.

Laces and buttons are gently undone, cotton rustling as he rids you of your dress. He slowly pulls the straps of your chemise off your shoulders, and the fabric flutters to the ground, pooling at your feet as his fingers trace down the curve of your spine. He reaches the waistband of your bloomers and pushes it down over the swell of your ass, leaving you completely nude in the soft lantern light of the tent.

You reach for the buttons of his union suit and thread them through their eyelets as you feel his eyes upon you. It is not until you have unbuttoned him past his navel that you look up, catching his gaze and holding it as you lift your hands to his shoulders, sliding the cotton down his arms.

That too pools at his feet.

It is only a moment before he pulls you flush to him, his skin touching yours, all of you pressed against all of him. He recaptures your lips as he maneuvers the two of you toward his cot. Far more gently than an outlaw like him should be, he lays you down.

Arthur leans over you, one knee on the edge of the cot, and as you gaze down his body, you see the evidence of his need, his cock hard, jutting forth proudly from his pelvis. Leaking from the tip, swollen and glistening for you.

You can feel the moisture gathering between your legs, he’s yet to trail his hand there, but when he does, he finds you wet and wanting. A low rumble emanates from his chest as he parts your folds with a gentle press of his fingers.

You suck in a breath as he does so, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs at you. Moving downward, he slides a thick finger into your cunt, and you gasp his name in feverish desire as he climbs atop you, pressing your legs apart with his own, settling his hips closer to yours. When Arthur removes his finger, he brushes the wetness off on his leg before his hand smoothes up your body, searching for yours. When he finds it, he interlaces your fingers as he wraps his other hand around himself as he moves toward you.

The blunt, girthy head of his cock presses through the rim of your cunt and you gasp, a high and flighty noise, as he begins to push himself inside you, sheathing the column of him within your warm channel.

When his pelvis blessedly is flush against yours, he lets out a long, sated breath as you squeeze your eyes shut against the feeling of being parted, getting used to the shape of him within you.

Arthur remains still, his free hand rubbing gently at your hip as he waits for you. When your eyes flutter open, he is peering down at you with adoration in his eye. You squeeze the hand you have interlaced before unwinding your fingers from his.

Words remaining unspoken, you reach up to him to wind your arms around his neck, and he immediately gets down on his elbows, surging forward to lock his lips to yours.

And then he moves. A long, slow, gentle stroke in which his pelvis leaves yours for a moment before returning. You moan as he does it again, and he takes a moment to hear that flighty sound before pressing his lips over yours.

Your fingers card through his shorn hair as he slowly, gently pumps into you. You receive him headily, your core getting wetter by the moment.

The emotion of it all spills over - he seems incapable of words as he gives himself to you. The cot squeaks in the night: the gentle slap of skin on skin, the wet sound of bodies coming together fill the tent.

He reaches between you to rub at that bundle of nerves right above where he stretches you, and you clench your teeth against the pleasure as you come.

He is able to stay inside you for a moment more to enjoy the constriction of your body around his, but not much longer as he quickly extricates himself. He only needs to wrap his hand around his length and pump himself twice before his spend splatters upon your heaving belly.

Arthur pants, giving his cock a final squeeze as it drips more of his release upon you. Within a moment, he reaches down to the pile of clothes at the side of the cot, pulling his bandana from the pile and wiping your skin clean.

Your eyes start to close as you feel him slide into the space next to you on the cot, gathering you against him.

He presses his lips to your forehead as you drift off, but before you do, you hear his whispered voice in the night.

“I love you.”

[nebbyy]

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette  which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy. 

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating 

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun 

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall 

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me 

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment, 

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil. 

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew 

About love, and how little I know, 

Because I cannot keep myself from loving 

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face. 

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven." 

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in. 

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3

[grace-williams-xo]

RAMBLING THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING PART TWO. GONNA ADDRESS MY P1 THOUGHTS FIRST. SPOILER WARNING.

1 & 2: I think Debling could’ve worked in the second half, and I’m kinda sad Cressida didn’t get a happy ending. The Creloise fell of a CLIFF after ep 5 but I think it could still be saved

5: no cishet man has ever loved his wife more than Anthony Bridgerton I’m gonna be ill

6 & 12: kanthony’s absence was felt BAD in the finale, I think their reactions to LW were sorely needed. Also Jonny and Simone have both said they’ll be at every sibling’s wedding and stick around for years but they missed Francesca’s??? Also felt their absence too much then. They’re both booked and busy I think we’ll continue to only get a couple episodes a season from them

8: Francesca did get to thrive happy in pt 2 my baby I love her

9: I think they managed to disconnect the mondrich plot even further like 😭 once again, I don’t mind them their plot just feels very empty

10: Pen and Delacroix CONTINUE to be my fave duo I love them so freaking much and they can never get rid of it

13: Portia’s growth this season continued to be 10/10 I loved her and Penelope’s relationship it really showed what it’s like to be closely related to people you oppose and the process of needing to forgive and understand them for your own peace of mind

14: that was not how I was expecting Colin to find out about Whistledown

15: Marcus felt a little rushed in part two but I think I need to watch the whole season together to fully decide

17: this was indeed the longest 27 days of my life I got Covid day after it dropped lmfao

MY ~NEW~ THOUGHTS:

We finally got character development from Cressida and if they write her out I’ll be inconsolable (as will Jessica Madsen)

I hope they paid Golda Rosheuvel good for her feet exposure. Worth more than titties in this economy

I feel the need to tell everyone that £5000 in 1815 is in the realm of £500,000 today and we cannot brush over the fact Penelope has made herself the equivalent of a literal millionaire

Anthony has two moods ‘I’m obsessed with my wife’ ‘I want to win this game’ like it is comical how drastically different his facial expression is in the game of charades compared to pretty much every other scene

Anthony saying the marriage is perfect and not hard work and Kate being like BOY I will humble you,,,, doing the lord’s work I love her so much

At some points I felt like Francesca was fighting Anthony for ‘Violet’s least favourite child’ award lmao

John saying he’s off to look at the wainscotting was unfairly funny

Cressida in the red dress is even better than I imagined fuck even if she’s not gay then I am

Peneloise back together the universe is healing I love my babies all we need now is creloise lovers and peneloise friendship simultaneously I don’t like it being one or the other sue me

However much Brimsley is getting paid isn’t enough,,,, Hugh Sachs the man that you are

I adored Penelope’s wedding dress so much and as bitter as I am still about no kanthony wedding in s2, it felt kind of right somehow for Polin to be the first wedding we properly see in this show

Most of the costumes and makeup feel like they got worse,,,,, big ‘I hired a 14 year old’ energy. I don’t need historical accuracy but I would like a modicum of care and the costume/hair/makeup dept looking at a single historical reference from before 1850,,,, please

We all got the bi Benedict we’ve been asking for and I appreciate it, and recognise that he needed Tilley to explore that, but I still would’ve preferred if they first main queer experience was not a threesome

If they go straight into benophie in s4 (which idk, I’m so torn bc I feel like F, E and B all could work well next season) then I also feel like bi Benedict was just them throwing a bone for 5 mins but meant nothing

The CONTENTIOUS Michaela Stirling,,,,, I was undecided until I saw it but that was the definition of gay panic from Francesca and it worked so well I am so excited.

As your resident peerage expert, it is much easier for women to inherit titles in Scotland than England so I wonder (not that anyone on this show knows anything) if that was a reason they chose Francesca to be sapphic [general peerage info and female inheritance info if you care]

On the above, if they can canonically end racism with one marriage then they can end homophobia with one marriage as well

We all know Eloise was the easy and obvious choice to be the queer love story but part of me does kind of like them not taking the easy route, and them going something more unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Creloise/Sapphic El like they had eight children let’s be honest

Finch’s sneeze and Phillips’s “now Varely! The bugs!” were unfairly funny

Everything Lady Danbury said to Penelope about suspecting her and what not felt very in character and you can fight with the wall idc

Did they tell us the name of Polin’s baby boy???

Hyacinth saying she thinks of Gregory as the family pet,,,,, girl you an icon walking amongst mere mortals

Predictions I got right:

Anthony didn’t kill Colin, but “are you gonna duel your own brother” lmao I was on the right track

I knew Polin would win the Featherington baby race and I love that for them (but why were Prudence and Phillipa pregnant most of the season, barely showing, Kate was showing almost immediately, and then in the epilogue the sisters all had baby’s similar-ish ages???? Give the writers room a calendar please)

I SAID FROM DAY DOT THAT THE FURNITURE THEY BROKE FROM SEX WAS A CHAISE I CANT FIND THE POST BUT I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT WHERE DO I COLLECT MY PRIZE SOME OF YOUR GUESSES WERE TRULY FUCKING COOKED

Okay that was too long if you made it this far I’ll make you cookie ily

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

[annymation]

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 7- Inspire Them

Chapter 6

“You’re… a star?!”

“You guessed it!” Aster exclaimed cheerfully, flying down to the ground while doing backflips in the air, until he lands in front of her with a bright smile on his face, he bows down like a prince formally introducing himself to a princess.

“Good Asha Lucero, you have given so much happiness to others, you deserve to have your wish come true.” The star speaks more eloquently now, and it feels like these lines where rehearsed, that's because they were, for he's actually just repeating what all wishing stars say to their wish makers when they come down to earth, like it’s protocol.

That line is a reference to what the Blue Fairy says to Geppetto.

“So it shall be my honor tooOO-OH MY GALAXY IS THAT A RABBIT?!?” He sees a rabbit coming out of the bushes and gets distracted… Again…

As you can see, Aster’s not very good at following wishing star’s protocol.

Asha watches as the teenage star flies by like lightning towards the little critter, she's blown away trying to process that this is actually happening and not just a dream, wanting to ask a million questions while at the same time she's completely speechless. So all she can say in a stutter is “Umm y-yeah it sure is hehe” To answer his question. She can't help but chuckle seeing how the star is so amazed over something so simple like a rabbit.

Aster holds the rabbit’s ears up, the animal seems confused but not really minding it “Awww they're way cuter seen up close… And I was right! I told them rabbits had big ears!” The star claims victorious.

Asha tilts her head to the side “Huh? Told who?”

“A few neighbors of mine that make up the lepus constellation, see?” Aster points up to the sky, to a constellation that looks like a rabbit with very tiny ears “I told them rabbits had cute BIG ears, but they insisted their formation was good enough, it’s like they don’t even care for accuracy, really” They say while looking up with a smug, shaking his head slowly, it's like he's thinking "I told you so".

Asha gazes upon the night sky, her eyes sparkling just like the stars “… Y-yeah I guess the ears are pretty tiny hehe” she suddenly realizes what Aster just said implies... Aster is not the only one. She quickly turns to them perplexed “Wait wait slow down, are you telling me ALL the stars... ARE ALIVE??” She's breathless, looking back up at all the stars like a deer mesmerized by headlights.

Aster can't help but chuckle, she's so amazed over something that, to him, is so simple “Heh heh not aaaaall of them, but most of them, yeah." Aster explains casually while letting go of the little critter. The star turns their attention back to Asha, gazing at her with a friendly smile while floating close to her, observing her with curiosity.

Asha on the other hand is still gazing up to the night sky as she says, her voice filled with astonishment "My father used to write that we had a connection with the stars but... I could never imagine they’re actually people!" She turns back to look at Aster, her voice barely above a whisper "… Much less that they come down when they’re wished upon"

"Oooh we don’t usually come down to help at all, I’m just here because you’re a special case, Asha" Aster says, floating around her like a fish swimming in circles. 

“I am?"

He stops flying around, now just floating right in front of her to explain why he's there in the first place “See, when it comes to wishing upon a star, like myself, NO request is too extreme..." He stops for a moment as if to think how's the best way to continue his point "Although... your request to save your kingdom from the clutches of two evil rulers is… Well … A lil bit extreme, just a bit, not gonna lie… heh heh" They say sounding more high pitched and awkward than before.

"Yeah... I know" The girl looks down slightly

Aster lifts her head gently to look at him, giving her an optimistic smile "That is, too extreme for you to do it all by yourself, that’s where I come in!”

Asha’s enthusiasm slowly returns "So... You'll grant my wish? just like that?" She snaps her fingers to indicate how easy and quick it'd be.

Aster hates to bring somewhat bad news, but he tries to explain it the best they can “Eeeh no, hehe not exactly, I can’t just fix everything in the blink of an eye, that’s more of a genies thing, ya know?” They clarify while creating a genie's lamp with their star dust, manifesting it above his hand to illustrate his point.

“Huh, I see” Asha is surprisingly not disappointed by that at all, she honestly didn't think it could be that simple, besides, just having any help at all is more than enough "So what can you do?"

“Oh I can do a lot! Watch, hey Valentino!" Aster flies down, now face to face with the little baby goat "What do YOU wish for lil buddy?"

Asha looks puzzled "I thought you couldn't grant wishes"

Aster giggles as he looks up to her, the star is floating barely above the ground but he's posing like he's laying down, with their hands behind the back of his head "Hehehe It's easier to explain if I show you, but let's just say I can grant simple wishes, however, the stronger it's the want in the wish maker's heart then the more I can do!" 

"Maaa! Maa!" Valentino bleats out happily to Aster

Aster eyes sparkle with excitement upon hearing the goat's "words" "OO-HOHOO now THAT'S a strong wish! You got it buddy, here ya go!" He sprinkle some star dust on Valentino, to which the goat gladly eats all of it. Asha watches curiously, waiting to see what could her goat possibly have wished for...

And Valentino talks

"Did it work- *gasp* It did! I'm tawkin I am tawkin!" The little goat giggles, adorably hopping around the two of them, Valentino's voice is cute and high pitched, he sounds like a toddler.

Asha lets out an "awwwwn" with a huge smile and her eyes wide. She sits down to hug Valentino, not able to contain herself with such an adorable display.

"You sure can bud! Now go on, make your wish come true!" The star cheers while floating above the two of them

Asha looks up to Aster confused "Huh? But you just granted his wish"

"Nuh-uh I just wanted to say one thing, I wanted to THANK YOU!" The baby goat exclaims, nuzzling closer to Asha in their embrace "Thank you for always taking care of me! You're the best fwiend I could ask for!" He finishes, licking her nose.

The girl stares at her baby goat, completely overwhelmed by the cuteness.

"Soooo yeah, I can make animals talk! Pretty neat huh? But that's just the tip of the ice be-" Aster notices Asha was quiet, too quiet "Uuuuh you're ok?"

"*sob* yeah I-Im fine *sniff*" She hugs Valentino while petting him, sobbing at the sweetness in his voice. She really needed to hear that after the day she had.

Aster doesn't understand what sad tears are though, so they assume he just made a huge mistake "oh OH NONONO- IM SO SORRY I-I THOUGHT YOU'D LIKE IF HE TALKED D-DON'T WORRY ITS NOT PERMANENT! HE JUST WANTED TO SAY "THANKS" P-PLEASE DON'T BE SAD" The star is panicking, flying around and flailing his arms uncontrollably.

Asha dries a little tear from the corner of her eye and smiles at Aster "Hheheh calm down, I'm not sad, really, I just got emotional that's all"

Aster looks relieved at that, he calms down as he flies down to sit next to her

"Maaa! Maa!" Valentino is back to not talking.

"Oh so it really wasn't permanent" Asha says, as Valentino leaves her arms to hop around and eat some grass.

"Like I said, all he wished for was to say thanks, now that he did so, he has no need to speak anymore" Aster explained calmly

Asha had a thoughtful look for a moment, her eyes light up as she pieces it together in her head "... Hmm I think I get it, so you just gave him what he needed to fulfill his wish himself" Aster nodded his head quickly, excited that she got it right, Asha continued "So... What about my wish though, how will you help me grant it?" She asks to the wishing star sitting next to her.

Aster’s already big smile widens even more with the question, as they fly upward and lifts her up with one hand "I’ll be your guide! Give you all the tools you’ll need to succeed! But of course, the only one who can make your wish come true is YOU!” He boops her nose, making some star dust fly around her face

Asha feels a sense of joy come to her when the star boops her nose... But even then, the thought that everyone is depending on her makes her feel all her fears and insecurities come flowing back.

“Me? But they’re the king and queen of that whole kingdom and I… Well, I don’t even know WHO I am in all this” She admits, looking away from the star for a moment, her gaze is distant.

Aster can sense her sadness returning, and the spark of her light glowing dimmer as hopelessness fills her thoughts. His eyes turn to the side for a moment, pondering how he can rekindle her spark and make her see what he sees... Eventually, his eyes lit up with an idea, literally making his hair shine brighter like a lamp bulb turning on.

"Weeeeell I can't tell you who you are neither, that's something only you can figure out." Aster begins with a playful smile, flying to be face to face with her.

Asha notes how those words are a direct contrast to how the royal pair kept saying she needed their help to find out who she is. The star word's caught her attention.

"BUT if ya ask me, I think I might have an idea of who you are in "All this". So allow me to elaborate in the best way I know how… EVERYBODY HELP ME OUT!"

Aster exclaimed, calling upon all the living things of the forest. He uses his magic to bring all the trees and flowers to life, as well as making all the animals able to sing and dance.

And so, we get my version of "I'm A Star."

This song is quite literally the opposite of what “Wish Away” was, if "Wish Away" made Asha feel small, like she couldn’t do anything on her own and NEEDED the king’s magic, “I’m A Star” is doing the opposite of that, making her feel as grand as a celestial body, like she can do anything, and Aster is just there to land a hand, but only she can reach her dreams, and she CAN do it.

I’m A Star

[Verse 1]

Have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers? Or blow dandelions in the wind? Asking them to better your chances Why throw a dime down a well? While you know that's no spell

(Aster begins to sing, extending his hand up to the sky to present all the beautiful stars above. Asha looks up to them, but before she knows it Aster grabs her attention again by pulling from behind her ear a dandelion made of star dust he just created, he shows it to her while singing the second line, Asha instinctively blows it like she indeed always did as a kid. Aster then flies away from her and to a wishing well in the woods, he makes a coin with his star dust and throws it while not even looking at the well, his gaze is still focused on Asha as she watches him sing attentively)

Things passed down generationally, to you Yes, I hear And to some unbelievers those are shoddy fallacies But have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers?

(Aster makes the trees come to life, happy faces appear on them as they dance along with he music, Asha watches them in amazement, she starts getting into the mood of the song, with a giddy smile on her face. She answers "Yes, I hear" to Aster's comments, because she indeed grew up with these traditions of wishing upon dandelions, wishing wells and stars, but not thinking those will magically solve all her problems, it's just a first step to set her goals. As he sings the final line, Aster flies to above the trees, reaching to the stars with a determined and confident smile, Asha looks up to him with her eyes shining... Suddenly Aster flies back down doing backflips in the form of a ball of light, and hits the ground the song makes a "THUM" before the chorus kicks in)

[Chorus]

Well, you don't have to look too hard I'm here for all your question marks If you're tryna figure out just who you are Don't look far

(Aster stands up as soon as they land back on the ground, the animals of the forest now all sing to help him with the chorus. Upon singing the second line, Aster hits his foot on the ground, making a trail of light glow underneath the earth like roots (It's like Elsa hitting her foot down when making the castle during Let It Go), that make a giant flower grow under Asha, lifting her up to above the forest, the giant flower blooms during the third line. Asha is on it covering her eyes in fear for a moment, but Aster flies to be in front of her, taking the hands off her eyes as he sings the last line, making her look at him, he gives her a reassuring smile, making all her fears go away)

In the sky, and your front yard In your heart and in the scars If you really wanna know just who you are You're a star…

(Aster pulls her by the arms and they jump off the flower, Asha is once again startled, but when they're about to fall Aster makes another giant flower bloom, that catches them just in time, they hop on that flower and Aster once again pulls Asha to jump again, this time Asha fully trusts them and jumps without fear, knowing they'll make another flower for them to jump on. They do this during the two first lines, but as Aster sings "If you really wanna know just who you are" they spin around in the air holding Asha's hands, they both twirl in the air together before Aster throws Asha up to the sky, she floats with a little bit of Aster's star dust on her, and she looks in awe to the stars above her... Before she thinks of what Aster just said, now her face turns into confusion, as she immediately falls down in his arms)

[Verse 2]

What! But you just said YOU'RE a star! Uh-huh! Well, yeah, but you're up to par Cause' while I do bring that magic intervention Only you can reach your destination!

(Asha and Aster are now back in the forest, Aster just caught her in his arms, and Asha promptly questions what he means by saying "She's a star" when clearly he's the star here. Aster puts her back down as he answers that yes, he is a star, but he explains Asha is just as magic as he is, Aster makes some star dust flow from his fingers like tiny fireworks as he sings "Magic intervention". A bunch of animals show up around them and sing in harmony the last line. Asha looks at all of them in surprise. The whole forest is lit up with colorful lights thanks to Aster's magic.)

See, I'm more like that lil voice, in your head That suggests when you can't find your path ahead So even though I can't do all of the work for ya I'll make sure it's enough for you to shoulder!

(Aster suddenly is tiny, the size of a hand, dancing on Asha's shoulder. He whispers in her ear that he's the little voice in her head, and once he sings "Path ahead" he makes a golden path appear in front of her, made of star dust. The animals all happily follow that path and encourage Asha to follow along, she hesitates for a moment, but she takes a deep breath and makes a run for it, making little Aster fall from her shoulder as he sings the last line)

[Verse 3]

A wish is a dream that comes from your heart So I've dropped in just to do my part With my magic we'll make that dream go just as planned But I'm sure that by now you already understand:

My wish... depends on me? EXACTLY!

(Asha walks through the path, accompanied by the animals, they sing the first line to her melodically. There's some butterflies flying around her too and Asha gazes upon her overjoyed. Aster flies along side her, posing like he's laying down relaxing, saying how he's just there to do his part. He then uses his magic to create even more shiny yellow butterflies, seeing how Asha seems to like them. The music plays drums as Aster sings "But I'm sure that by now you already understand" and the butterflies fly around Asha in circles, one of them fly to her finger, Asha looks at it as she asks "My wish... Depends on me?", she sounds unsure but she's almost understanding. Aster yells the answer with contagious enthusiasm, making the butterfly on her finger fly away"

[Chorus]

For you don't have to look too hard It's all around and not too far If you're tryna figure out just who you are You're a star!

(Asha is suddenly picked up by a Iberian red deer, running with their herd behind them, all of them singing the chorus, she holds on to his horn with a smile as Aster flies in front of them lighting up the path ahead, the deer she's riding sings to her "You're a star")

Do you know you're a work of art? Even in the deepest dark If you really wanna know just who you are I'm a star!

(Aster sings the first two lines along with the other animals, while looking at Asha with eyes full of admiration. Asha however looks in shock ahead, pointing to him they're running to a cliff, Aster notices and as they jump off the cliff Aster makes Asha float with his star dust, holding her close to her with the full moon behind them, they look at one another in the eyes for a second...Valentino was also on one of the deers, and comedically passes by floating and singing with his baby voice, even though he has been "off screen" so far.)

[Verse 4]

Some say that's just too ordinary Like us stars just ain't necessary 'Cause I'm no legendary genie Granting wishes one, two and three!

(We cut to Asha and Aster back on the ground in the middle of a flower filled, Aster makes all the flowers glow like stars, making the woods beautifully lit up with splashes of color and light all around them. As Aster sings "'Cause I'm no genie legendary" he makes a yellow lamp just like the one from Alladin and hands it to Asha, as she holds it she hubs it, and out of it comes three Asters, completely yellows as they're made of star dust, each one shows up in the rhythm of each number in the line "One, two and three")

Well, my friend, just between you and me I'm way more fun, 'cause, you see I'm here to guide and make you believe YOU can write your origin story!

(Aster snaps his fingers making the lamp and all the three clones disappear in a poof of yellow glittery dust. He's now holding Asha by the shoulder and speaking close to her ear like he's about to tell her a secret as he sings the first line. He offers her a hand as if inviting her for a dance, Asha gladly accepts it and they both dance together around the dancing trees and animals. Aster lifts her off the ground and twirls her around as he sings the last line, Asha looks down at him with a radiant smile, she seems to really like that idea)

[Chorus]

You don't have to look too hard It's all around and not too far If you tryna figure out just who you are You're a star!

(Asha and Aster dance together, they hold hands an almost begin to do a waltz before Aster always changes to a more free style dance. The animals sing the chorus and copy them, with some rabbits dancing while holding their paws together, and some birds flying together in harmony with the music, Valentino is dancing to along with the animals. Aster boops Asha's nose as he says "You're a star")

No matter where you end or start We're both each other's counterparts If you really wanna know just who you are I'm a star! (Wooh)

(Asha is filled with delight as she dances freely, without a care in the world, she feels as if she could fly. She watches all the magic that surrounds her with pure wonderment in her eyes, she finally fully accepts what Aster and all the other creatures in the forest are trying to tell her, as she exclaims "I'm a star!" and all of them cheer.)

[Post-Chorus]

Ooh, I'm a star Watch out world here you are (Hey, hey) You know who's lookin' sharp? (Who?) Me, I'm a star! (Wooh) Oh, you're a star! Watch out world here you are! (Hey, hey) You know who's lookin' sharp? (Who?) You! You're a star

[Outro]

Ha-ha-ha, wooh Yes, wooh Ah-ha-ha, ho-ho

(Aster makes a light shine on Asha like a spot light, as the animals all watch her dance by herself, feeling fully confident in who she is. The star keeps hyping her up, overjoyed that her spark is back. Aster flies around her as she dances, he sings the last lines praising her, while making the flowers and leaves fly around them like colors of the wind from Pocahontas, but on the last line both him and Asha point at each other when saying "You! You're a star" and their fingers touch each other when they point. The two of them find that amusing, and on that adrenaline high energy that can only laugh and cheer together. Asha falls on the grass, laughing with overwhelming joy and exhaustion after all of this, Aster lays next to her as he celebrates.)

Asha and Aster are laying down, laughing on the grass. Flowers are growing around Aster because he's so happy. Asha is more out of breath, since ya know, unlike Aster she actually breathes. Some animals that helped Aster as backup singers start to leave the scene

"Wooh! That was great! Thank you for the help fellas!" Aster thanks the animals for their help, still laying on the floor with Asha as he waves them goodbye.

"Any time buddy!" "That was fun!" "We should do this more often!"

The animals chit chat as they leave the pair and Valentino alone in a small clearing in the forest. The girl and the star are now both gazing up to the stars while Valentino is sitting next to them, also looking up.

"Sooo did I explain well enough?" They asks her, genuinely wanting to know since this is the first time he explains to someone how wishing stars work.

"Yeah... I'm still trying to process this is all really happening and I didn't just fall from the tree branch and hit my head... But yeah I get it.” Asha says, still out of breath after everything that happened “So you’re here to help me… I assume you're all caught up on what my problem is, right?" Since he's magic she assumes they might as well know everything.

Aster confirms her assumption "The king has been changing people's wishes for years. And he changed your wish so you would become a princess locked up in a tower by sun rise, yup yup I'm all caught up" Aster elaborates quickly, while trying to smell some of the flowers that grew around him, but disappointingly realizing he can’t smell anything.

(Aster has been keeping up with the rewrite y'all)

"I have no idea on how to stop them" Asha breathes out, her voice comes out as almost an whisper

Aster is still staring at the stars as they say "On your own it would be pretty hard" But then he turns his head to look at her "But lucky for you, your magic guide here already got it aaaaaaall figured out" They have a cheeky grin

Asha sits up in surprise "You do??”

"Yuuuup!" He begins to illustrate his plan using his star dust, creating the image of the castle "King Magnifico is gonna release the wishes from his tower any minute now" the star dust castle illustrates the wish bubbles coming out of it, then Aster creates the image of a sleeping Asha with his other hand "While you sleep, I'll keep an eye out for that cursed wish bubble the whoooole night long, then when it shows up I can just grab it before it reaches you" Aster illustrates the wish bubble approaching her, and he grabs the small orb with his own fingers.

“And just like that you... You can stop it from coming true?” Asha asks slowly, it feels almost too good to be true.

“Of course! That "wish" turned curse won't get even close to you while I'm around here” He sits up as he says confidently. He then chuckles a bit at that, realizing the irony “Heheh it’s kinda ironic ain’t it? A wishing star stopping a wish from coming truuu- wOAH“

Aster is caught off guard by Asha hugging them.

“THANK YOU! ASTER THANKYOUTHANKYOU THANK YOU!!” Asha isn't usually much of a hugger, but in this case she just can't contain how happy and relieved she feels “Aster I was just… So scared, you have no idea, that they’d take me away and- Thank you...“ She finally feels like everything will be alright

(She doesn't know she's in a story written by an angst loving writer, so everything will NOT be alright my friends)

Aster is... Well this IS their first hug, ever, it feels very foreign to him... It feels… New.

The star can't quite describe what it is, it's like happiness but somehow... Stronger... If someone was to describe this feeling to him, he'd think it couldn't be true.

They return the hug of course, holding her tight as his eyes close shut “Heh don’t mention it, I’m your wishing star, of course I’ll protect you.”

(hmmm would you say you’d protect her… At all cost????)

Aster wanted to stay like this for as long as they could but... Suddenly some quiet orchestral instruments start playing in the background, they sound messy and without harmony. Aster's eyes are shot open and they quickly lets go of the hug "A-and everyone else in Rosas too, since ya know, that was uh- your wish heheh" he stumbles over his words nervously.

Asha doesn't notice the awkwardness in his voice, she just gets up, feeling her confidence returning, reassured that she does have a chance of winning with Aster by her side.

"… Yeah- YEAH! We can do it, I can make them see the truth, now that I have your help!" She speaks passionately, ready to take on anything the world throws at them "What can we do to save everyone else?"

Aster flies off the ground, looking just as excited as her "I'm glad you asked! Here's my plan" Once again, Aster uses his star dust to illustrate his plan quickly: "First! We get in the castle. Then we free all the wishes. Everyone gets their wishes back. They all learn that they should make their wishes come true through their own efforts. BOOM. They get "Something more for them than thisss"!" he sing songs the last phrase at the rhythm of "This Wish"

Aster eagerly waits for her reaction to his… “plan”. Asha is smiling but... She knows that's a terrible plan, however, she doesn't want to be rude.

"Umm... Its a good idea but... I think we can workshop that a little bit." She says as kindly as she can to not hurt the star's feelings.

"Yeah yeah of course! this is OUR plan after all" Aster is floating like he's laying down on his cape, like it's a hamrock in mid air. The star is over confident that this is indeed the perfect plan.

Asha takes a deep breath before explaining "Well... If we simply free the wishes, I don't think the people of Rosas will want them back, you know? They want their wishes GRANTED by the king himself, it would take a lot of convincing to make everyone want to grant their own wishes. Not to mention most of them were changed by Magnifico so now they're curses."

As she speaks Aster start floating down and down and down with every word, realizing the situation is a bit more complex than he expected, he's sitting on the grass now with his legs crossed.

"... Huh... I didn't think about it that way" He admits, sounding a mix of embarrassed and disappointed in himself "This... Guiding thing... Might be a bit harder than I thought" their voice is quiet as his hair that moves like a flame (I don't think I've emphasized this enough, his hair is a reference to Hades hair, ITS ALWAYS MOVING) starts to shine less brightly.

Asha notices the star insecurities, so now it's her turn to cheer him up, she sits next to Aster and holds their hand. Aster's eyes light up when he feels her hand on his, he listens attentively to what she has to say

"Hey don't worry, it won't be easy, but thats okay, we just need some time to plan this out, together. You said it yourself, right? You can't do all the work for me, and I don't want you to. Just having you here to help already changes everything... I'm really glad you're here, Aster" She gives him a warm smile, her eyes locked on his.

His hair lights up again, even brighter than before, and more flowers bloom around them. "... Yeah, I'm glad I did come down here." The star says, a smile growing in the corner of his lips, his eyes sparkling. Aster doesn't have a heartbeat but if he did it would probably be beating like a storm in their chest.

Asha is quite literally oblivious to the effect she just had on him. She simply gets up again and changes the subject. "We can think on a plan tomorrow, now I gotta go home and-" She stops, realizing that if she goes home she's gonna have to explain everything to Dahlia "Oh my-how am I gonna explain YOU to Dahlia and her parents, or explain why I ran away like that... " She places a hand on her forehead, now walking side to side worriedly.

Aster starts floating again, with a knowing smile on his lips "Mayyyybe you can sleep in a different house tonight" They state with a childlike mischievousness in their voice

Asha looks at them confused "Huh? What house?"

Aster turns her head with one finger, making her turn around to looks what's behind her.

"How about that one?"

Asha then sees...

(Pretend this picture is at night time please)

"That's... That's my old home, where I grew up" Asha feels a warmth in her heart, it's a feeling of nostalgia and comfort, she hasn’t been in there for a long time.

Aster still has that same knowing smile, his eyelids are relaxed as he comments "Really? Huh what a coincidence..." it's not like he guided that whole musical sequence to lead them here or anything- what? What you talking about? "WELP let's get in then!" The star flies to the door like a dash of light.

"W-wait Aster, the door is locked-" Asha warns him but-

Aster uses his magic when touching the door, making it glow yellow for a moment, and just like that, It's open "Not for me, it isn't heheh"

Asha smiles, yeah, of course they can open doors too.

We have a small time skip, cutting to them inside the house. It's a cozy small cottage with, even though it looks a bit dusty from it's time abandoned it's still quite organized. It's faintly lit with candles, but Aster's hair and cape pretty much light up the whole place a lot more.

Valentino is soundly sleeping on a pillow, while Asha is sitting on the dinner table, drawing on her sketchbook... Drawing Aster of course, because what else would an artist do if they met someone who was literally 2D animated in real life?

(“But Anny shouldn’t she go to sleep?” SHE WILL GO TO SLEEP AFTER I GET MORE CUTE INTERACTIONS OUT OF THEM)

She's also eating some berries that animal critters got for her offscreen, ya know, because Aster asked them to, and she didn't have dinner. While she draws, Aster is flying all over the place, taking a closer look at EVERYTHING inside the house.

"Wow, I could never actually see how human houses looked like from the inside! It's way more spacious than I thought"

Asha can't help but laugh at that statement "Ha! Now that's funny coming from someone that lived in SPACE, which I gotta ask... How was it like? What did you do up there?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity

"Oooh ya know, the usual, watch the birth of super novas, throw asteroids as far as you can, sometimes guess where a new solar system will form next, just a bunch of boring stuff" The way Aster says it makes it seem like those are the most mundane things ever. He says while admiring a fork in his hands.

(Ariel coded. Aster is Ariel from space y'all)

Asha hears the star describe all those things in awe, after all she also really likes astronomy.

"None of that sounds boring at all, and I still got a thousand other questions!" She says excitedly

Aster is just as excited to answer them. But then he notices Asha's sketchbook is open, that gives him an idea.

"Well then ask away! I'm an open book, or rather..."

Aster jumps INSIDE her book, shrinking down to the size of her finger, now he's black and white, and is animated with more rough sketchy animation, as a reference to animation tests, like this (2D Mirabel my beloved)

GIF by scurviesdisneyblog

"I'm IN an open book! heheheh" He giggles, there's no reason for them to do that other than he wanted to see if it was possible, and of course it is.

Asha looks at the now moving Aster sketch on her book, she's stunned for a moment, but then again that's not even the most impressive thing Aster has done today.

"O-Okay so umm, you mentioned earlier that not all stars are alive, right? Just some... So how does a star gain life?" She asks, like she's interviewing him for research.

Aster walks around the pages of her sketchbook as he explains "When we are wished upon for the first time by a mortal! I got my first wish about 18 years ago more less, and that's when I gained life" He jumps to a different page, now with some animal sketches drawn on it.

"Oh... We're the same age then" Asha mentions, somewhat surprised, but at the same time it does make more sense than Aster being a 100000+ year old, after all he acts like just a teen… When he’s not acting like a kid that is.

"Guess we are! Happy birthday by the way!" Aster says as he brings some animal drawings to life, they begin to run around him "Hehehe Though can you imagine if you WERE my first wish maker? I would've shown up here looking like a new born star, an actual baby, now that'd be awkward wouldn't it?"

(...Yeah Aster, that would be very strange... Thank goodness it never happened... Am I too salty?)

"Heh I guess so, and uh do ALL the stars look and dress like you?" She goes on to the next question.

"We always pick a different form depending on what's more fitting for our wish maker, I picked this form because… Well- You were in need of help like a princess in a fairytale, so I thought the princey looking clothes would fit the occasion" Aster's now in a different page with the drawing of a tree, he's hanging around from the branches

Asha is slightly put off by the comment, she had enough of this "princess talk" after what happened in the castle that night.

"I am NOT a princess though" She corrects him with one eyebrow raised up.

Aster drops from the tree branch "Oh I know! You're just pretty like one" He says innocently, like he's just stating something that's clear as day.

Asha blushes, getting flustered by that sudden compliment... She didn't expect a literal star to find her pretty.

(NEVERMIND HE LITERALLY SANG "DO YOU KNOW YOURE A WORK OF ART EVEN IN THE DEEPEST DARK" A FEW MINUTES AGO LIKE GURL HE IS NOT BEING SUBTLE)

"Heh heh wow-okay um... Honestly when I first saw you I assumed you were like... A sorcerer or something" She tries changing the subject, assuming they're just saying that to be nice.

" Pffft a sorcerer?! Nooo nonono if I wanted to come off as a sorcerer I would've dressed myself something more like this"

He snaps his fingers, changing his clothes to look like Mickey’s sorcerer apprentice outfit, because Disney reference babeeeeyyy.

"Though the hat is a bit too big isn't it? I don't think it suits me heheh" He chuckles as the hat covers his eyes.

Asha giggles at that in amusement "Hihih I think you look great either way" 

Suddenly, a gust of wind blows through the window. The pages of the sketchbook flip rapidly because of the wind, throwing Aster off the book

“WOOOOOOAAAH!!!” He screams as he gets back to their normal size, before he knows it he's thrown inside a closet

Asha gets up instantly to check if he’s alright "ASTER?! YOU OKAY?" she asks worried

The star is just laughing without a care in the world, laying inside the closet full of old belongings of Asha and her family. "Woooo hahahah yup! Need more than a little wind to-“ Aster notices something in the closet that caught his attention “Hey, what's this?" Aster gets up from the closet, holding a mandolin.

"Oh… that's my Saba's old mandolin, I guess I forgot it here" Asha looks at the instrument with a smile that was somewhat nostalgic, but also mournful. She expected the memories of him would come flowing back by them just being in the house, but it still caught her by surprise.

"Did he play?" The star asks curious

"Actually... No. I never seen him playing it, I even asked him to teach me a couple of times but he was never interested" She sounds sorrowful as she passes her fingers through the cords.

"Huh... I see" Aster can kinda guess why that is… But they prefer to keep the information to themselves.

She's still paying close attention to the instrument in her hands, looking at it with downcast eyes "You know… I wish he did teach me, I don’t know how to play any instruments… But Saba always seemed disinterested in-“ 

Asha notices Aster started shining brighter and giggling more than usual all of the sudden… Also he’s shaking his arms around rapidly, leaving smear frames like he has multiple arms, ya know since he’s 2D. Soooo yeah, they’re stimming.

“Umm... You doing okay Aster?" Asha asks holding the mandolin close to her.

Aster floats now with his face is close to hers "You "WISH" you say?! Weeeell I can help with that!" His voice is full of glee, like the simple word “wish” coming out of Asha’s mouth filled him with energy

"Y-you can? But how? You can’t change the past" Asha is more confused than ever

"Nope! Buuut I can use my magic to give you a taste of what it would’ve been like if he DID teach you! Here, let me try something”

Aster extends his hand, asking her to hand them the mandolin, Asha isn’t sure where this is going but she trusts the star completely, so she gives it to him. Aster begins spreading his star dust on the cords of the mandolin, making them shine brightly. The cords start playing many different melodies by themselves, as if every song ever played in that instrument is being played again all at the same time. Aster then makes that shine on the cords return to him, the mandolin stops playing and now Aster has a light flickering on the tip of his finger, you can almost hear the faint sound of music coming from that light. Aster reaches out, getting that finger closer and closer to Asha's face

"Aaaaand BOOP!” Aster boops her nose with his shiny finger, making stardust sparkle around her face. She blinks a few times, not understanding what just happened. ”There! Try it now!" Aster says as he hands the Mandolin back to her. Asha looks at the mandolin, then back to Aster, who’s staring at her with a big smile, eager to see what she’ll do next.

She holds it to try playing it, not sure what since she doesn’t know any songs- wait...- But she DOES. Asha’s eyes light up when she realizes that now she can remember so many melodies in her head, like the knowledge was always there. The chords, the music notes, it all comes naturally to her as much as speaking and reading. And so, her fingers dance through the mandolin, creating a beautiful melody, a smile grows on her lips.

"Woah I- I can play it now!" The girl says cheerfully

"Yup!” The star boy flies upwards quickly, glad they could make her happy granting one simple wish… Thought he knows there’s a “but” “But it's not permanent, you'll only know how to play till tomorrow's strike of midnight" Aster explains while walking around upside down on the ceiling.

Asha looks up and asks "Why midnight?"

The star shrugs “It's always midnight" he answered simply "Anyway, it may not be the same as if your grandfather taught you but... At least you can get a feel for it before trying to learn at your own pace"

Asha chuckles a bit with that notion, most people would probably be upset if they only got to know a talent for one day, but she’s more than happy with just knowing how to play it NOW, and yeah, she can try learning how to play by herself later.

She looks at the instrument as she says:

"Thanks, Aster. Though I don't think I'll have the time to play it tomorrow, we gotta figure out how to defeat the king and queen, remember? And I doubt knowing how to play the mandolin is gonna help us heheh" she says that last part laughing a quietly to herself, how silly would that be? To defeat those villains with music.

"Yeah I guess it won't..." Aster speaks in a disappointed sigh while still pacing around the ceiling, sad that Asha won’t get to enjoy her wish tomorrow… But then… an idea pops up in the star’s head. His hair lights up like a lamp once again. The boy JUMPS and does some backflips before landing on the table with wide bright eyes and a huge smile. "What if it COULD help though???" He exclaimed, now standing on the table.

"...What?" Asha asks with one arched eyebrow

Aster starts walking circles on the table like they’re thinking on the details of their new plan "Wait wait wait let me think... Yeah YEAH I KNOW! Asha! YOU can INSPIRE THEM!" Aster says pointing a finger to Asha, smiling ear to ear.

"Inspire who? Huh?? What you talking about???" Asha is now hugging the mandolin walking backwards, not understanding what’s going on right now.

Aster tries lowering his energy as he speaks more calmly "Think about it, why did the king and queen want your wish soooo much in the first place?" He asks, now sitting on the table with his legs crossed.

"Uuh because they're evil" She states the obvious fact with a deadpan expression.

"Ok yeah that too- BUT they wanted it because they were afraid you could INSPIRE people, that's their weakness! They depend on the people believing in them, trusting them with their wishes, so if we want to win we gotta. Break. That. Trust” He says emphasizing each one of the last three words by hitting his finger on the table.

"And you think we can do that... By playing music?" Asha gives him a look that can only be described as an “… seriously?” Expression, she’s not confident in that idea, not in the slightest.

Aster on the other hand is just as confident in that idea as he’s confident that the sun will rise tomorrow. So they continue:

"It's a start, you can inspire the people of Rosas with music so that they at least THINK about wanting to pursue their own wishes, you said it yourself, that we could only return the wishes to them once they learn they shouldn't depend on king Magnifico" Aster says, now floating closer to Asha with that same bubbly smile that doesn’t seem to ever leave his face.

Asha tries to patiently explain to him why that’s not a good plan "Aster, it's a lot more complicated than that, I mean, how would we even know if I'm actually changing anyone's minds?"

Aster doesn’t miss a heartbeat and exclaims "I'd know!"

"…huh?" Asha eyes squint.

The star once again has his face reeeeally close to Asha’s, their noses almost touching, so she looks him directly in the eyes "I can SEE people's beliefs! Their wants! Their dreams! My eyes can see all that as plainly as a smile on someone's face. If, or rather, WHEN anyone feels inspired by you, I will know" The star is shining like the sun now, somehow it doesn’t hurt Asha’s eyes though, but she still not fully convinced.

"And you... Really think I can change their minds?” Her voice is full of doubt now, both in herself and in the notion that the people of Rosas can ever change that easily “I was seen as a weirdo in the kingdom for years, and after what happened today... They must see me as something worse, how can I change anything?" She looks at the star with a saddened expression.

And once again, Aster reassures her with a bright smile and some words of wisdom "You just gotta believe, believe in yourself all the way, implicitly and unquestionably-

(That’s uh… that’s a reference to an Walt Disney quote, cause like, I’m shocked that Disney’s 100th anniversary movie had none of those, and also it’s really fitting for Aster’s character… sorry for the interruption, let’s keep going)

- believe in yourself as much as I believe in you! I'll be there to help you. It won't be easy but we gotta start from somewhere, right?… And I REALLY think if anyone can inspire them it's you, Asha."

The thought never crossed Asha’s mind before but… The way Aster talks to her almost feels like they know her for a long LONG time… But maybe that’s just how wishing stars talk to their wish makers in general. Asha thinks for a moment… Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at least try…

"... Yeah I guess... It does sound fun to play music with my saba's mandolin like I've always wanted...” She looks at the instrument, but then a worrisome thought came to her, she looks back at Aster and asks “But how are YOU gonna be there with me? We can't let people see you"

Aster smirks as he starts floating towards the entrance of the house "Oooh hohoho way ahead of you! Watch this.” He gets out, closing the door behind him. Asha sees a huge flash of light coming from the windows, she looks at the door confused until… Aster walks back in. Emphasis on WALKS, not float. For he’s no longer a 2D animated glowing boy… He’s 3D just like Asha and all the rest of the environment. Asha is startled for a moment because she almost couldn’t recognize him now that he looks like… A real person.

“Ta-da!” He says walking in while twirling around, showing off his new form. His cape no longer has star dust flowing out of it, and his blonde hair no longer moves nor shine, and the star mark on his right eye is gone.

All Asha can say is amazement is “...Wow”

The star was just interesting to look at before, since he was a moving drawing. But now… Now Asha felt a bit more when looking at him, her heart starts beating faster.

Although he does looks like a real person his movements feel… Off, like their animation is in a different frame rate compared to everything else, his movements are slightly quicker.

(In case you haven’t noticed yet Aster is a walking animation study)

"Pretty neat huh? I feel so heavy now hehe" He jumps a few times, like they’re getting used to the gravity

"Wait wait wait did you just turn yourself into a human??" Asha asks while walking towards him to take a closer look.

"Naah, I wish." He whispers the "I wish" part more to himself "This is just a disguise, all wishing stars have one, though I can't actually use my powers while in this form" The boy says while checking his new appearance on a mirror hanging on the wall "But hey, not like I'll need my powers to help you inspire people, that will be all you! I'll be there just to hype up the audience" He says excitedly

Asha feels her insecurities creeping in at the mention of an audience "... We can't bring too much attention for ourselves though, SPECIALLY from the king and queen, they'll probably think that cursed wish changed me, so they'll be looking for me"

"I can keep an eye out for them… Aaaaand" Aster runs towards the closet he fell in earlier, and grabs another item that caught his attention beside’s Sabino’s mandolin… It’s a purple bluish cloak, the same cloak from the movie that references the fairy godmother’s cloak.

“My mom’s cloak…” Asha says warmly as Aster hands the piece of clothing to her

"They won't recognize you like this, from the top of their palace you'll look like just any street performer" The star's voice is filled with trust that everything will be alright, and Asha feels that trust too as she holds the cloak close to her heart.

"Yeah... Okay, we'll do it! Tomorrow morning at the plaza" Asha announces decidedly 

“Alright!" The star jumps up, realizing he can't fly in that form so he looks slightly confused when he lands back down, he feels a bit embarrassed by that "Heheh... But hey, speaking of that cursed wish of yours... shouldn't the wishes have already been released from the tower?" Aster says looking out the window.

"... I honestly don't know what time of night the king usually releases them, I'm always already asleep when that happens... *yaaaawn* and speaking of which, I should probably go to bed now" Asha says, walking to her old room with tired eyes

"Great idea, I'll be on the roof to watch out for that cursed wish!" The star says as they turn back to his 2D appearance so they can fly to the roof

"Good night, Asha!"

"Good night Aster"

Aster flies to the roof and lays down, to protect Asha. The young star relaxes looking up to the night sky.

…

And then

We hear the sound of instruments.

Violins, flutes and bells all playing quietly but erratically.

We then see a new emotion that Aster hasn't displayed before form on his face...

Aster looks annoyed.

The young star rolls his eyes, speaking in a tone reminiscent of a bothered teenager

"Wow, I barely even started and you guys already think I’m doing this all wrong? A little bit of trust would be nice"

The instruments play again, as if to answer to what he just said

"Yeah I knooow it's gonna take a while to grant this wish, but hey, if it was a simple wish I wouldn't be here in the first place, now would I?"

The instruments play again, more aggressively

"I may be young but I deserve to be here just as much as anyone else... I know I'm doing things differently but... She needs me"

The instruments play again

"NO THIS IS NOT-"

He stops himself from yelling, Asha might hear, he looks up to the stars with a glare.

"*sigh* This is NOT about me wanting to stay here longer than I have to, I'm just doing things MY way, just give me a chance, I know what I'm doing..."

…

Silence.

…

All Aster hears now are the sounds of the night, like crickets and the wind

The star turns their gaze now to the castle in the distance

“… I know what I’m doing.”

Chapter 8

Final thoughts

Does he though?

And WOW that was a looooong chapter of just two characters talking to each other huh? Well I hope y’all enjoyed the cuteness because it’s aaaaaall going downhill real soon :3

So just getting one thing out of the way, about this last scene of Aster talking with the stars… I wrote that whole scene while listening to “I’m still here” from Treasure Planet to get my head in the misunderstood teen vibe, just so you guys get an idea.

It’s not like Aster was faking his upbeat personality,obviously not, they don’t fake anything, it’s more like they have layers… like an onion 🧅. With Asha and everyone else he’s the happy optimistic little ray of sunshine that believes wholeheartedly that “🎶No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, that dream that you wished will cooooome true🎶” and all that jazz.

BUT with the stars, he’s treated like a kid, when they feel like a teenager and wants to be treated as one. My point is he’s more than a happy face, he’ll have an arc and be a rounded character.

And don’t worry, the stars ain’t antagonists, they’re more of a true neutral party. Just observing… Yeah.

And if you think “that plan of inspiring people with music is not a good idea” why yes, I know, but that’s Aster plan, aka the guy who takes ✨If you believe you can do it✨ as gospel, and don’t get me wrong I agree with believing in your dreams, but Aster will come to learn what that REALLY means, and what it really means to be someone’s guide.

This plan WILL lead to something good for Asha and Aster… buuuut it’ll also lead to something real bad, so ya know, Aster gets a reality check, and Asha will get some character development… Yippee 🥳

Hope you guys enjoyed this Magnifico and Amable free chapter because they’re coming back right in the beginning of chapter 8 hahaha say bye bye to the good vibes.

As always

Thank You For Reading!

[caffedrine]

Nokto Klein - Beyond the Connection Between the Past and the Present – Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

When Emma pokes her head out of the blankets one morning, she blearily sees familiar gray hair and red eyes. Oh, was Nokto watching her sleep again? How embarrassing.

Her voice full of sleep, Emma calls out to Nokto and asks if there’s something wrong. When he doesn’t reply, Emma surmises that he must want to be pampered today. Reaching a hand out from under the blankets, Emma combs his hair back.

Nokto giggles, telling her that she’s ticking him. Weirdly, he also calls her ‘big sister’.

. . .

Huh?

Was Nokto’s head always so little? And was his voice always so prepubescent? Emma looks closer at Nokto, but he was standing instead of kneeling next to the bed. Was Nokto always so short?

Suddenly Nokto, in all his adult glory walks into the room, breezily wishing Emma a good morning and asking if she’s awake yet.

He stops when he sees the kid and there’s a long silence. Nokto breaks it, asking Emma to explain the situation to him.

After the explanations are over, and Nokto has taken a nice long look at the kid, he guesses that this himself as a child.

(This, but a smaller head)

Lil’Nokto asks if this is what he’s like as an adult, and Nokto admits that, unfortunately, he is.

Lil’Nokto asks what he means by ‘unfortunately’ and Nokto admits that he’s bad with children.

Emma muses that Nokto’s past self really is here with them, and Nokto wonders if this is some sort of dream. Experimentally, Emma pinches her cheek.

Lil’Nokto is aghast - doesn’t she know that if she does that, her face will freeze and never return?

How cute!

Emma assures Lil’Nokto that she’s fine, see?

Oh, okay, that is true. Still, Lil’Nokto urges her to take better care of herself, he doesn’t want anything to happen to her beautiful face.

Emma asks Nokto how she can endure this . . . This unfiltered cuteness. Nokto grumbles that she never reacts like that when he says sweet stuff too.

Of course, just in case she’s wondering, Nokto also thinks she’s beautiful.

Her face going red, Emma thanks him. Wow, there really is something different when the adult calls her beautiful.

Well, as much fun as it is competing with some kid for Emma’s affections, they do need to figure some things out. He asks Lil’Nokto what he was doing before he arrived in the future.

Lil’Nokto has an easy answer - he was with his brother Licht, have they seen him?

As Nokto replies that he hasn’t seen Licht, Emma imagines running into adult!Licht, who would be as confused as the rest of them.

Lil’Nokto is worried, he needs to find Licht in order to return home. If he can’t find Licht, and is alone with his mother . . .

. . .

Thinking fast, Nokto ‘remembers’ seeing Licht. It looked like he had found adult!Licht and last he saw, they were riding a horse together. They’ll probably be back after dark.

An adult version of Licht!? Lil’Nokto sounds excited.

Well, there’s no point in worrying about it until after dark, so why don’t they do whatever they want? It looks like Emma over there is dying to feed them some sweets!

Turning to her, Lil’Nokto asks if it’s true, which it is. Emma promises to make him anything he likes, and he promises that he loves everything.

Okay, Emma will just have to make a variety.

Suddenly Lil’Nokto gasps and points - Emma has an injury! That red oval mark, right on her neck.

As Lil’Nokto panics, adult!Nokto has to turn away to laugh. He assures Lil’Nokto that while it may be red, Emma doesn’t find it painful at all.

Huh?

Oh-ooooh. The hickey Nokto left last night.

Her cheeks growing red with embarrassment, Emma assures him that she’s fine and thanks him for being worried for her.

Anyways, while she’s cooking, Nokto will take care of Lil’Nokto. He has so many things he wants to teach him while Emma is away . . .

When Emma returns with tea and snacks, they begin playing a card game. A card game that Emma immediately loses. Weird, she used to be pretty decent at cards.

It’s down to Nokto and Lil’Nokto, with Nokto pronouncing the sweets go to the winners. Lil’Nokto cheers at this, and dives in. When they had started, Lil’Nokto had been hesitant about eating, but with Nokto’s idea to use sweets as the reward, any hesitation Lil’Nokto had is gone.

Lil’Nokto begins to ask to play again- this time with a different reward but falls silent.

While he stuffs himself with more sweets, Emma leans into Nokto and asks what he was talking about while she was in the kitchen.

Oh, not much. He just wanted to give Lil’Nokto some advice that would come in handy.

Huh, maybe he was giving him card game tips?

Emma pronounces that for the next card game, she’s not going to go easy on Lil’Nokto just because he’s a child. From now on, she’ll go all out.

Lil’Nokto is surprised - Emma wasn’t being serious?

(She was, she had gone all out)

In that case, Lil’Nokto agrees not to go easy on her either, he won’t hold back anymore.

What a challenge! Nokto pronounces the winner gets to ask the loser for anything. Anything at all.

This is a little more interesting than gambling for sweets, right?

Emma braces herself; she can’t lose.

One loss later . . .

Emma sits with her head down. She is the loser, and depending on who wins the next round, she’ll have to reward either Nokto or Lil’Nokto with anything they want.

They both play their last cards, and the winner is . . . Lil’Nokto. Emma can’t help but catch the glimpse of a card in Nokto’s sleeve, he had been cheating on his younger self’s behalf.

A win is a win. Nokto reminds Lil’Nokto that he can claim his victory from Emma, but what will he request?

Lil’Nokto barely has to think - does she remember earlier that morning when she stroked his head? He wants her to do that again.

Emma complies, gently stroking Lik’Nokto’s hair. It’s so soft and fluffy. Lil’Nokto murmurs that her hand is so warm and nice, he could stay like this for ever.

To her surprise, Nokto has a sad and lonely expression. Emma asks if something is wrong, and Nokto admits that there was a time that he was like this.

Okay then.

Emma beckons Nokto to join them. He does, telling Emma that she doesn’t have to do this.

Okay, but she wants to.

Well, fine. If it’s what she wants, he’ll indulge her.

Though there is no guarantee this will last beyond this moment, Emma wants both Nokto and Lil’Nokto to feel happy.

Both are important to her.

[ficmashup]

Captive Patient

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Heavy Price-involved chapter! Took me a bit longer to write because it's a bit longer and because I wanted to get it right. Sorry for the wait! But, hope you enjoy. :)

Warnings: Vague SA mentions, illness, some crass language, so much fluff.

Word Count: 4.6k

Feral Masterlist

Shopping with Price is different than shopping with Simon.

With Simon, it’s all quick jabs and taking the piss with each other down every aisle. We were even scolded by the manager once when I sent a pack of jerky shooting towards his head with deadly accuracy. A single look from Simon had them scurrying away and I couldn’t stop giggling for two straight minutes.

It’s just…easy with Price.

“Grab the gnocchi for me?” I ask, pointing up at the item while I crouch and reach back to gather chicken stock on the bottom shelf.

“The what?” Price looks directly at the package with furrowed brows.

A smile pulls on my lips as I place my things in the cart before walking over to him. “Gnocchi? Just there.” I tap the bottom of the shelf and he reaches up to get it for me as he looks it over.

“The hell is it?” He asks and I chuckle, gently taking it from his hands and putting it in the cart as he looks at me.

“Like…dumplings? Little, pillowy potato bites. Never had them before, I take it?” I ask with amusement in my voice as he shakes his head, following me as we walk down the aisle again.

“Can’t say that I have. What do you do with them?”

“Other than eat them?” I tease, smirking as he gives me a look.

“I mean, how do you cook them?” He corrects and keeps pushing the cart as I grab a few things, add them to the cart, then slide back into place with him beside me. He coughs again, covering his mouth with his elbow while I listen closely. It’s a wet cough. Maybe he has some congestion dripping down the back of his throat?

I focus back on the conversation. “Hm, well, this time I’m making a sort of twist on chicken pot pie. Same ingredients go in one big pot and it simmers for a few hours, then you’re done.” I explain, unconsciously making hand gestures for the pot, stirring, and so on. There’s still a slight furrow to Price’s brow when I look back at him.

“Why not just make chicken pot pie?”

“It’s supposed to be easier.”

“But aren’t you missing the crust?”

“The gnocchi take the place of the crust.”

“The crust is the best part.”

I shake my head amusedly at his insistence, and slide in front of the cart as I gather a few things. “Look, I’m making it today. Why don’t you come try it yourself?” My hands freeze as I hold a package of chicken, my eyes not even seeing the price as I replay what I just said. This is the problem with things being so easy. I’m usually a bit more careful, a bit more on my guard, but like this…I say things without considering them first. But Price responds before I can take the words back.

“Alright.” He agrees and my eyes snap to his. Those pretty eyes crinkle as he nods, leaning against the cart. “And I’ll make you a real chicken pot pie this week. We’ll compare.” His smirk grows as I realize that I’m staring and I quickly shove the chicken into the cart before pushing it forward a bit.

“You cook?” I ask, struggling to keep my mind from spinning and my body catching on fire.

“Occasionally. I don’t set toast on fire like Johnny.” He chuckles and I relax at the sound, the tension fading from my shoulders as he moves back to my side. “I’ve taught myself a few things over the years. Pot pie was my mother’s favorite, so I taught myself how to make it.” That catches my attention and I can’t think about anything at all when he speaks in that soft, gruff tone.

“You made it for her?” I draw the obvious conclusion and he shrugs a shoulder, half-grinning.

“Tried to. She nearly spat it out the first time I tried. She, ah, she wasn’t the type of woman to hold back her opinions.” He recalls fondly and his eyes look off for a moment as if reliving the moment. My lips press together as I try to hide my smile as he looks back at me with a slightly sheepish grin. “But I got better.”

“Mm, I’d hope so.” I tease and take in the warmth in his eyes like a reptile in the sun before we move on.

*     *     *

It’s easy enough to sneak a few things into my cart that he doesn’t notice. I don’t have to ask him to help me take my groceries up to my flat, and its child’s play to get him to sit on my couch for a few moments under the guise of waiting for a cup of tea. He sits and I note how tired he seems when he thinks I’m not looking. He leans against the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. His eyes shut while his hands slide over his thighs and I try not to get too distracted by him as he spreads his legs to get comfortable.

Quickly, I grab the secret things I got from the store and set each in front of him on my coffee table. His eyes open, looking at me while his brows furrow. “Drink one of these.” I point to the bottled water and a glass filled with a golden liquid. (Electrolytes, lemon-flavored.) “Then we’ll wait a few minutes until I can take your temperature. If it’s higher than I like, then I’m keeping you here until it goes down.” It’s very clear that nothing I’m saying is a suggestion.

Price blinks at me. “What?”

I set my hands on my hips, fingers drumming over my hipbones. “You’re sick. You’re coughing, you’re feverish, you’re taking more deep breaths than usual as if you’re having trouble getting enough air. It’s also obvious that you’re exhausted and I’d guess you’re not sleeping either because of congestion or hot and cold flashes at night.” I look pointedly to the drinks I set in front of him and he slowly leans forward to take the water bottle, but doesn’t drink it just yet.

His eyes narrow at me. “So you decided to back me into a corner with the promise of a home cooked meal?” Surprise pulls his brows up, but there’s amusement and something almost like pride in his eyes.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. “Yes. Blame yourself. You told me that you’re insufferable when you’re sick, so I took things into my own hands by making a tactical move.”

He can’t keep himself from smiling now and my stance softens just a touch at the sound of his soft laugh. “Damn. I’ll remember that when considering undercover missions for the team.” He leans toward me with his elbows on his knees, head tilted up at me. My fingers flex against my arms as I see him in this position and I beg my mind to pull itself together. “But I’m fine. No need to go to any trouble.” A particularly bad cough chooses this moment to rattle his chest and I give him a pointed look once he’s finished hacking his lungs up. He returns the look with all the innocence in the world.

“Right. Let’s test that theory.” I pick up the thermometer and hold it out to him, raising a brow when he doesn’t take it. “There are many ways to take your temperature, Captain. Either let me take it willingly or I will shove this up your ass.” There isn’t a hint of hesitation in my voice and Price’s eyes widen a touch. His jaw flexes as he thinks it over before sighing and accepting the thermometer.

“Starting to feel bad for the boys if this is the treatment they got when they needed fixin’ up.” He grumbles as he slides the thermometer under his tongue with the end sticking out between his lips. It’s almost like a poor imitation of his cigars.

“I only treat my stubborn patients this way. If you’re good, then I’ll be sweet as sugar.” I glance at the clock, noting the time so I can be sure he keeps it in long enough for the reading to be accurate.

“Bet you would be.” The words are barely spoken under his breath, but my eyes snap to his immediately. Tension stretches taught as a rubber band between us and my body goes hot as he shifts slightly in place on the couch.

“What was that?” I whisper, frozen in place as I wait for his answer.

“Said I’ll try to be good then.” He responds gruffly and our eyes are locked on one another’s before the thermometer beeps, startling us both. A deep breath vanishes down my throat as I steady myself. I lean forward and slip the thermometer from between his lips, not meeting his eyes now as my hand skims his cheek. My thoughts narrow as I see the digital numbers flashing up at me.

“101. Low-grade fever. Still insisting you’re not sick?” I shoot Price a scolding look while he huffs. I pull away and clean the thermometer and put it away while gathering a few other things. It helps to get a little distance from Price anyway. “Alright.” I walk back to him and press pills into his hand. “Take these and drink as much as you can. Rest. I’ll work on the dinner I promised.”

Price looks utterly dissatisfied. “You want me to sit here while you cook? That’d make me a poor guest.”

I smile and hum in amusement. “But a good patient. You can come sit at the counter, but I’m not having you do much until that fever is down.”

He stands up, shaking his head. “I feel fine—"

“John.” I use my firm voice, holding his gaze without flinching as I place a hand on his chest. We hold that position for a moment, neither of us backing down while I think about the best way to handle him. My stance softens and I sigh softly, leaning into him a bit so my hand pushes against his chest just enough to drive my point home. “You trust me to take care of our team, you trust my advice on missions, now I’m asking you to trust me enough to let me take care of you. Let me.” My fingers tap lightly over his heart and mine beats faster at the vulnerability of asking him for something. Especially since I’m asking for his trust.

His jaw flexes a moment before he sighs, a smile pulling on his lips as his hand slides over mine on his chest. “Fine, sugar. You got me.” He agrees at last and I swallow at the sound of his soft, deep voice as he surrenders.

“Thank you. Now, where do you want to sit?” I raise a brow, seeing if he actually meant what he said.

He shakes his head slightly as if he can’t believe himself. “The counter. I’ll lend moral support.”

I grin, tapping his chest twice before reluctantly sliding my hand off him. “Good. That’s the most important kind.” He chuckles and grabs the drinks I bought him before settling on a stool at the counter while I walk around it to start cooking.

“Think I’d take air support over moral support.” He comments and I chuckle as I get everything out.

“You think so? You’d take a chopper over having the team at your back?” I challenge with a smirk as I get out two cutting boards and knives before organizing what needs to be done. He gives me a look, but can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Touche.” He allows and amusement flits through me. Conversation continues to be easy and John actually behaves well enough after I give him a job. (Cutting vegetables for the soup.) We eat together and it takes me a few minutes to settle as we both sit together and eat. It’s been a long time since I’ve done something so mundane and while I’ve eaten here with Simon, everything with John feels different.

His gaze follows me around the room and the weight is comfortable, soothing, and the very fact that I like it makes me nervous. The only thing that keeps me steady is the fact that he still needs care because he’s sick. It starts getting later and later, but the only thing that I’ve managed to help is his congestion. At least he can breathe a little easier.

I’m curled up in a ball on the opposite end of the couch as I debate making him stay, hating the idea of sending him home to his empty flat. Especially since I know he won’t call me if things get worse. My mouth opens to at least start the conversation, but before I can get a word out, a soft snore fills the room. I glance over at Price with wide eyes to find his head tilted back on the couch cushions, fast asleep. My lips press together to keep in a giggle as I relax back into place.

His position isn’t putting too much strain on any part of his body and if he’s fallen asleep so easily, he really must’ve been having trouble recently with the dripping down the back of his throat. I’ll let him sleep like this a while, then move him to the guest room a little later. I find myself watching him. He looks utterly relaxed slumped on my couch, hands still resting on his spread thighs as soft, rumbling snores leave his lips and each one makes me smile. What’s truly surprising is how comfortable I am having him here. The last time I had a man in here was…a very long time ago. A one-night stand to scratch an itch. Then, more recently, I’ve started having Simon here.

Simon was a bit easier because we have an understanding. Scars that neither of us have voiced, but that we both can see. Scars that are shared. It’s been a give and take of trust with us, always keeping things even, keeping each other steady until we relaxed into friendship. I’d let him into my apartment for barely five minutes the first time since he was the one who invited me to tea. A fair exchange. Then he let me into his place for longer, then I did the same, until we spent hours with each other and found we no longer needed to keep score.

With John…he’s already given me more than I could ever repay. He let me on the team, provided a place for me to fit in, a job to focus on, and provided me with friends within that job, people I could trust and depend on. That’s why it’s so easy for me to find myself off-balance with him. He’s given me so much so freely and only expects me to carry my own weight. Maybe that’s how normal people are supposed to interact and I’m just fucked up, but whatever.

Gently, I ease myself onto my feet and turn the tv off. “John.” My voice is soft as I move close, but don’t touch him just yet. “Hey, John. Come on, I’ve got to move you or else you’ll regret it in the morning.” My foot nudges his boot and he sighs heavily, shifting in place.

“Hmph.” He makes a disgruntled noise and I can’t help giggling. That’s what entices him to crack one eye open. “Am I dreamin’?” His voice is low and gruff and sends warmth seeping through my body.

“Are your dreams the only place you make women laugh?” I tease, leaning forward and taking his hand in mine along with wrapping my other around his bicep. “Come on, I’m getting you to bed.” Slowly, I heave him onto his feet and grunt as I duck under his arm, the heat of his body searing my side as we shuffle towards my guest room.

“Don’t often get to hear your laugh.” He mutters, his eyes only half open as I struggle to guide him around my furniture. “Such a damn pretty sound.” My body is boiling from heat and I’m not sure whether it’s because of embarrassment or pleasure.

“You should tell me more jokes if you want to hear me laugh.” It’s the only thing I can think to say and the warmth gathering in my stomach isn’t helped by the soft chuckle he gives me.

“Not much good at jokes, but I’ll keep that in mind, sugar.” He nods once and a tingle slides down my spine at the little nickname. I wonder if it’ll stick. “Wait.” We reach the doorway to my guestroom and Price reaches out, catching the doorframe with his hand while the arm I have a hold of tightens around me. He blinks a few times and I see him trying to wake up. I can’t imagine how deeply he must’ve been sleeping to have this much trouble. On missions, he’s up and ready to go in seconds, has to be.

“Don’t start thinking now.” I tease lightly and keep gently tugging him forward. Tired eyes meet mine as he lets me. “You’re in my flat, I’m putting you in my guest room because it’s late and I don’t trust you to take care of yourself.” I explain as much as is needed and finally sit him down on the bed. He allows it with a heavy sigh and rubs a hand over his face.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you.” He shakes his head at himself and I smile softly, wondering if his despondency is due to thinking of how his mother that he’d cooked for would think him a bad guest.

“I wanted you to sleep.” I step closer and press the back of my hand to his forehead. The only light in this room comes from the lamp still on in the living room, the warm light spilling across the bed like a shard of amber. It catches Price’s eyes just right and leaves them half a clear blue, and the other half shadowed like a stormy sea. I nearly forget what I’m doing as I stare into them. “You…you still have a fever. I’ll check in the morning, but for now, some more rest will do you good.” My other hand rests lightly on his shoulder and I don’t realize until after I move away that it wasn’t for any reason. I just wanted to touch him.

The thought makes me flustered as I swallow. “I think I have something you can wear, if you’d like.”

Price raises a brow at me. “Don’t think anything you have would fit me.” He presses the toe of his boots against the heel as he slips them off.

I give him a look, though I’m glad he’s not putting up a fight about staying here. “Wasn’t planning on giving you my clothes. I think there are some men’s clothes still shoved in the back of one of my drawers from an old boyfriend.” Mentally, I look through my drawers and try to pinpoint where I left them.

“Hm. No, thank you, sugar.” He shakes his head and I focus on him again. “Don’t usually sleep in much anyway.” I blink a few times before quickly nodding.

“Right. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right back.” My feet carry me to the bathroom and I flick on the light, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it with cold water. I wring it out in the sink and purposefully don’t look at myself in the mirror as I walk out. I don’t need to think about what I’m doing and I’m afraid if I meet my gaze, I’ll start reading into all the thoughts spinning around in my head.

Next, I grab two bottles of water and head back into the room, nearly tripping when I see Price’s shirt and pants slung neatly over the end of the bed. His socks are also tucked into his boots just under the cuff of his folded pants. My steps slow and I curse myself for being an idiot as I set the bottled waters on the bedside table. It’s not like I haven’t seen him shirtless before. I’ve seen every member of our team stripped down to their underwear when we had to cross a freezing river in the mountains. Not to mention I’ve treated their cuts and scrapes, Price least of all, but enough to see most of him.

But this is different. This isn’t in the field with the team or on base with half a dozen nurses around. We’re alone in my home with no one to watch or check in. It’s just us.

Price coughing brings my head swinging back towards him and I frown, sitting on the edge of the bed as the coughs ease. “Your throat raw from coughing?” I ask as he sighs, nodding as he leans his head back against the headboard. “I have something for that, hold on.” My hands gingerly lay the folded, cool cloth over his forehead before I get up and come back again with cough syrup.

“That looks like it’s going to taste great.” He grumbles as he peeks at it and I sit back on the bed beside him with my hip pressed against his thigh. He’s pulled the blankets up a little past his hips so we’re…relatively decent.

I smirk and pour the thick, molasses-type liquid into the cap before holding it out to him. “Better than whiskey.”

“Hmph, bite your tongue.” But he takes it anyway, grimacing as it slides down his throat and he hands me back the cap. I screw it back on and set the container next to his waters which he instantly chugs half of to try to get the sickly-sweet medicine taste out of his mouth.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone for the night.” I say softly, meeting his gaze as I think of anything else I can do. “Come get me if things get worse. I mean it.” I shoot daggers at him with my eyes and he only smiles warmly, nodding in acceptance.

“Yes, ma’am.” He agrees and I’m about to get up when I feel the pads of his fingers brush mine on the bed. “Thank you for this.” His gaze holds mine and I freeze as his fingertips ever so lightly slide up and down each of my fingers. “Been a long time since I let someone take care of me. Longer still since someone wanted to.”

“It’s…my job.” I reply and the words taste like a lie.

His fingers pause for a moment, then he continues with a slow nod. “If you’d like to think that, then that’s fine. I won’t push and your standing with the team and with me won’t change. I’ve never lied to you and I hope you can trust me that much.” My brows furrow and I nod. I’ve trusted him with my life and with knowing more about me than nearly anyone else. I trust him not to lie to me. His eyes still haven’t wavered from mine and I’m comfortably caught in them, his words only half-sinking in for now. “But I’m not here because you’re my medic. And I don’t think you’re lettin’ me touch you like this because I’m your Captain.” The words are gentle, wrapped in the warmth of his rumbling voice, but the actual sentiment is blunt.

I blink a few times, keeping my body absolutely still. John is patient and his fingers don’t stop moving against mine. Thoughts whirl through my head, most tinged with panic, but Price is still here, still steady, still keeping his eyes on me as if ready to talk me down or let me run out of here. He’s not saying this like it’s a problem. He’s saying this like he’s trying to break the news to me, as if I don’t already know, as if I haven’t been fiendishly ignoring every little flutter of warmth his every word or gesture gives me.

I finally move, reaching up and pressing my fingers to my temple as I try to think. “It sounds like you have something you want to do about that.” I say softly, feeling like we’re encased in a little bubble here and speaking too loudly will break it.

He quirks a brow at me, surprise in his eyes. “We could start with a date.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “A date.” I repeat, my fingers curling just a touch towards his as he keeps petting mine.

“Mmhmm.” He hums a confirmation with his head tilting just slightly as he watches my reaction. It’s clearly not what he thought it would be.

“You want to take me on a date?”

“Yes, sugar.”

“You realize what a bad fucking idea that is?” My voice is still hushed, my brows furrowed with confusion while Price keeps watching me with that steady gaze. “Forget the headache it would be on base, the gossip, the paperwork, possibly screwing with team dynamics, but you’ve read my file.” My voice shakes, but I don’t break away from John’s gaze. I’ve never hidden myself from him before and I’m not about to start now. “You realize what a nightmare it would be to try and date me? Do anything like that with me?” My words are a warning, bright red and flashing.

“I understand.” He says levelly and glances down to our hands for just a moment. “But I’m used to nightmares, sugar. I’d be glad if you’d let me tackle yours by your side.” His eyes lift to mine and if there was any doubt that he was earnest, the sincerity in his gaze immediately puts them at ease. I bite down hard on my bottom lip as I try to use the dull pain to keep the tears stinging the back of my eyes at bay. “But you don’t have to answer now. Sleep on it.”

“I have limits and boundaries that I don’t even know about yet. Things…wouldn’t be easy. Do you really want to navigate landmines in your personal life and your professional life?” I push anyway, needing his answer if I’m even going to consider this. I need him to know what he’s asking for.

“I understand.” He repeats, his fingers still moving soft and sweet against mine. “Yes, I do.” My next breath is a little shaky as I take in his words and the certainty in which he says them.

“You should sleep.” I say quietly, shifting closer as I flip the cool towel on his forehead and don’t resist the temptation to let my fingers linger. My hand rests against the side of his face, my thumb brushing over his cheek while his hot skin brands me. “Ask me again tomorrow.” His eyes scan my face as he nods, agreeing. Neither of us says anything else as he gets comfortable in bed and I slip out into my own room, curling up underneath my blankets.

For a while, I lay there while my mind swirls. The tears come next and my sobs are quick and quiet as I try to wrap my mind around what John is saying. He wants me. He wants to try. He’s willing to face my nightmares and stay. When I eventually fall asleep with tears smeared over my cheeks, there’s a small, hopeful smile on my face.

Taglist(hello lovelies, lmk if anyone else wants to be tagged!):

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes

[adickaboutspoons]

Oh boy. Okay. Here we go

A totes calm and measured response to this post over here by @themetabridge. Forgiveness for the whole new post. I had too much to say to fit into what Tumblr apparently thinks is an appropriate length for a re-blog.

First? I mean. Text just means the words and actions as they are said and shown in a given piece of media being analyzed. Which is what I’m here to do with my meta – textual analysis. That’s why I insist on textual support for any argument interpreting the media in question. Naked assertions do nothing to explain how you arrived at your conclusion. Vibes aren’t good enough. Show me what IN THE TEXT made you think what you think, and I will do you the courtesy of the same. Otherwise, I don’t see how we could possibly have much to say to one another.

The fundamental breakdown we are having is that you have failed to provide a textual basis for why you think Ed is a bad person. While I respect your assertion that a person’s essential goodness is predicated on the actions that they perform, I cannot respect the corollary supposition that there are actions that are either “good” or “bad” in a vacuum, as this completely ignores circumstance and motivation. WHY someone does something is AT LEAST as important as WHAT they did.

For example - Stede killed Ned Lowe in cold blood. Does it matter that he did it because Ned “shit-talked [his] friend and damaged [his] ship,” and “fucked Calypso’s birthday”? Does it matter that Ed, the person whom Ned’s shit-talk actually impacted, told Stede not to do it? Twice? Does it matter that Ned was a subdued enemy combatant, and as such could have just as easily been gagged like Hornberry and the overtly racist Wellington, who survived imprisonment and went on to watch Ed and Stede sign the Act of Grace? Do we compare Ned to the French Captain who got flayed for his racist rhetoric, though Ned’s comment was, strictly speaking, about Ed’s class rather than his race? How far are we going to go to disentangle class and race when one absolutely informs the other?

How about a more straight-forward example; Stede set an unnamed man on fire and quipped about it like some asshole 80's action hero. Does it matter that he threatened Stede’s life? How about if, when he did so, he was twenty feet away, armed only with the bottle he had just broken over his head, and there were half-a dozen pirates between him and Stede who all thought Stede was hot shit, and so Stede was in no immediate danger? What if Stede has a long history of people making attempts on his life, and being unsure that he even deserves to live, and this is meant to show that, now that he has something to live for, he’s done with the part of his life where he lets anyone try to take that away from him?

This is what I mean when I say that the show is careful to never outright condemn the use of violence. The narrative tells us clearly that, within the context of the show, some things are more important than an unnamed or one-off character’s life – preservation of one’s own life or the lives of one’s loved ones, dignity in the face of racially-based persecution, resistance to colonial oppressors. The reasons for and direction of violence matters. Context matters.

And speaking of context, you misunderstand me when you suppose that only what literally appears before our eyes counts can be “read into the text”. I refuse to give extra-textual sources of information (such as the historical reality of sergeant recruiters and being pressed into service or the historical Golden Age of Piracy) any weight unless they can be validated by in-text support, because the show itself cares fuck-all about historical accuracy. But extrapolations about the in-show universe based on in-text support are fine.

So, considering that the very first thing we hear in the show is Frenchie’s little ditty about the violent reality of a pirate’s life, and considering Jack’s comment at brekkie about how pirating is an "ugly profession”, and considering what we see of the raids in 1x5 and 2x2, we can reasonably conclude that pirate culture is steeped in toxic masculinity where the expectation of performing violence is de rigueur. Because Ed has carved out a successful reputation as Blackbeard, and because we see the ease with which he can go from being casually conversant with Stede to “giving it some oomph” to scare the location of the treasure out of the French captain in 1x5 with the THREAT of violence, we can reasonably conclude that he can successfully perform the required violent displays of piratical society (or at least, given that we know by his bathtub confession that he has not personally killed anyone since his father, he can adopt a convincing enough posturing that no one would doubt he COULD). From his interactions with Jack and familiarity with “yardies” and “whippies”, and his ruminations about “the old days” of “drinking all day and biting the heads off turtles or making some poor bloke eat his own toes for a laugh”, and Fang’s assertion that Ed made him kill his dog, we can reasonably assume that Ed has a history with casual violence for the sake of fun and cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

However.

I think “the old days” is an important qualifier there. Season 1 Izzy may be frustrated that Ed is not performing Blackbeard sufficiently well to suit him (on that point we can agree), but even by his own deathbed confession “for YEARS I egged [him] on, even though I knew [Ed] had outgrown [the Blackbeard persona]” (emphasis mine, and pin in that for a moment). In 2x1, Fang is crying into his cake saying “I’ve never seen Blackbeard like this” - indicating that the conditions of the Kraken era are NOT the norm. The slivers of Ed we see in 1x3 before the Spanish raid are marked by him speaking calmly and rationally to Izzy (in stark contradiction to Izzy’s insistence that he’s half-mad) never even raising his voice much less using threats or any actual violence to get Izzy to do what he wants. In fact, it is Izzy who suggests a course of action involving very normative piratical violence (“Do we open fire? Or would you rather we just attack them, kill them, throw them out to the sharks, sir?”), which Ed counters with a genteel proposition - inviting (not even ordering!) Stede aboard for a face-to-face meeting. Izzy being comfortable enough to push back against orders (“Oh, Edward, can’t I just send the boys?”) even suggests that he feels no threat from Ed at all. Every indication is that by the time we meet Ed, well before he ever meets Stede, he’s already well past done with violence for violence sake.

When Ed does meet with Stede, before he’d fallen in love (Even though the are the U-Hauliest, I would argue “fascination” with a possible side of “infatuation”, but certainly not yet love), one of the early conversations they have is about the depiction of Blackbeard in Stede’s book of pirates. Ed expresses revulsion and anger that the persona that he’s worked so hard to cultivate has been twisted into a hyper-violent parody - a “Vampire Viking Clown” that’s barely even human, with a head of smoke and overladen with weapons and hardly bears any resemblance to the real man. We’re meant to understand that this is not a valid or accurate representation of who he is. Violence is a normative part of pirate life, but he has “one knife, and one gun JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE” (emphasis mine, again) - he doesn’t shirk from using the tools of violence when it’s necessary, but he is NOT excessively or wantonly violent. 

And we SEE the evidence of this because of how Stede reacts to the way Ed acts around Jack. Jack keeps Ed drunk all day, decoupling his inhibitions from his decision-making processes and, in spite of Ed explicitly saying that he’s mellowed out, Jack eggs him into the kind of hyper-violent Jackassery that is excessive even for pirate society if the nervous reactions of Stede’s crew are any indication. Of course, this is all part of Jack’s plan - to manipulate both Ed and Stede and force them apart - and the reason that it works is because the way Ed acts around Jack is NOT the way he chooses to act under his own volition, hence Stede’s frustration and disappointment.

While I agree that piratical violence is not political praxis, I would argue that, considering that every raid we have witnessed Ed participate in has been against a representative of colonial power and, more often than not, specifically the enforcing arm thereof, it’s not unfair to conclude that Ed’s reasoning goes that if piratical violence is to be done, better against someone who deserves it than not - i.e. those who perpetuate the violence of colonialism. Regarding instances of violence outside the context of raids, here’s where we take that pin out of Izzy. Izzy and Ed are locked in a cycle of abuse over the first season, wherein Izzy decides that Ed is not Blackbearding hard enough, and, because he feels entitled to controlling Ed’s actions, bullies and harasses him into capitulating  - typically in the form of performing violence. Afterwards, Izzy performs some form of deference - apologizing and/or acting as though he’s going to leave, which Ed “talks him down from” and mercifully allows him to stay. It’s why, when Ed sees Izzy packing up a dinghy (lol. With what? It’s not like he’s on his own ship or would have brought his things with him, or sacked plunder from the Revenge. Clearly he was just stalling until Ed noticed him and swooped in to do his part of the cycle) he tells Stede he “should deal with this,” as though it’s tedious, but normal occurrence. I think an important part of this cycle as the season progresses, though, is how Izzy keeps upping the stakes.

So by the time we get to the end of the season, when the last iteration of the cycle starts up again (when Ed is once more insufficiently Blackbearding by being emotionally vulnerable and open with the crew following his return to the Revenge and his stint in the pillow fort (note that Izzy is apparently FINE with Ed not being Peak Pirate, just as long as he hides it away from everyone), and Izzy once more bullies and threatens Ed) this time it is especially cruel - Izzy is a thumb in the wound, attacking Ed at his most vulnerable and saying it would be better if Ed was DEAD than “pining for his boyfriend.” This iteration now also brings with it a history of escalation (first in Izzy bringing Fang and Ivan in to force Ed's hand about killing Stede, lest he look "weakened by the love of a pet" before his crew, and therefore in danger of mutiny, and then by bringing in the British Navy to force Ed to take Izzy back - or rather, to force Izzy back into Ed's life because the terms of the agreement see Ed remanded into Izzy's custody as though he is property to be distributed at the will of the Brits) - an established pattern of the lengths to which Izzy will go to get what he wants, and so a very real threat implicit in Izzy’s warning that “Ed had better watch his step” as Izzy serves only Blackbeard. So Ed gives him what he wants. He Blackbeards it up just like Izzy insisted, and lets Izzy know in no uncertain terms that the insubordination is done. It’s not a "frat boy prank" when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him, or even something from which he's deriving pleasure as he might have in the old days; it’s a calculated, proportional response, done under duress and against his own inclinations, but exactly the tool required to get the message across clearly.

As to the question of why it matters if Ed is bad, first and foremost, because saying that he is bad requires you to explicitly read contrary to the text. If you’re not going to engage with the text on its own terms, I don’t see how you can do any analysis of what story it’s trying to tell. I already discussed the ways in which the narrative is specifically about how Ed is NOT bad, even when he himself thinks he is. I have also discussed how, while “violence is never the answer” may be broadly understood to be the correct way of comporting oneself in real life, the show never condemns violence across the board. The show condemns cruelty, both on an interpersonal and societal level, but positions the use of violence as an acceptable and reasonable response thereunto. It treats circumstance and motivation with nuance and weight. Living within this context, Ed’s use of violence by the time we meet him is well within the normative acceptable application thereof. Judging him by standards outside the context of the story within which he exists makes as much sense as judging the Stede from the show for being a slave owner because that’s historical fact - that’s just not applicable to who he is in THIS story.

But more importantly, it matters because Ed is a POC character. Describing him as “cruel and perverse” for utilizing violence, particularly when the violence he uses is NOT excessive or impulsive, perpetuates negative race-based stereotypes about hyper-violent men of color. Characterizing him as “bad” for his use of violence when other (white) characters, such as Stede, use violence in similar ways, or are cruel or petty, but can still be considered, on balance, “good” means that Ed is being held to a different, higher standard than those white characters, and perpetuates the frankly racist criteria of expecting POC exceptionalism for POCs to be considered for the base-line assumptions of acceptability that are afforded to their white counterparts. Saying that Stede’s love is what changed Ed’s behavior from cruelty to wholesale abandoning piratical principles is not only antithetical to what actually happens in the show, but suggests a read that POC Ed needs a good white man to show him how to behave, a real white knight to tame his savage heart. That’s some real White Man’s Burden shit there, bro. I highly recommend you put it down.

[myredrainbow]

Alastor with a Alice Angel S/O

I couldn’t help myself with this idea!! It’s just aaaaa- ok I’m only doing the Alice Angel based off her as in the cartoons not the actual game & also based off Betty Boop too. Btw this is taking place in the Cannibal Colony since that’s there time period in their town is based off !!!!

This idea came from @screaminhysteria so ty!!!!! Ahhhh-

One more thing - this works perfectly time period 1920’s-1940’s. Ah yes the golden age of animation & the roaring 20’s!!

Let the historical accuracy begin!!!

~~~

~As Alastor’s S/o you too tend to be seen in speakeasy’s or jazz clubs! Your voice beautiful & he’s radio host skills- plus so piano playing on the side.. most would say-“Golly! What a duo!”

~The first time you too met it was during one of your performances at a speakeasy, fine jazz playing and swing jamming. Walking into the room was an incredible atmosphere for him, since he loved the thrill of others.

~Singing in the center was you, others dancing at your voice. Others singing along as you sang, you were at your happiest moment ever.

~Alastor watching from his seat, staring at you. Your smile, your charm, the way you sway softly to the beat the music.

~Curiously, Alastor decided to take a shot and ask you to dance a swing with him. Breathing in sharply he made his way to the floor and towards the stage. You were about to continue singing but heard a soft-

~ “Hello! My dear, care for a dance?” You took his hand and joined him.. the rest was history!

~ As a S/o of Alastor, you are well protected from others. Especially when it comes to rowdy patrons in the speakeasy’s & Clubs, he will be secretly be scouting that Parton and “chatting” with him in a nearby dark ally ….

~ You on the other hand are very kind and giddy towards Alastor but in front of others, you make sure to let everyone know that your taken by someone special. Making sure to swat away hands from touching you while you’re singing..

~When you enter at speakeasy your always dress to perfection, the finest black attire. Sometimes you sometimes wear a beautiful deer fur scarf around the back of your arms, of course the fur from Alastor.

~Alastor loves your dressing attire, but he dose have to fend off unwanted attention from you when it comes to wearing more “flashy” attire. Most those that show a lot more skin than usual, but he tends so see you in awe starring at him when he “deals” with those who don’t understand the concept of “personal space”.

~At his radio show broadcast, he will always praise you on the radio and telling his listeners about your singing skills are beautiful. Sometimes you will receive letters from your mail of people asking you to perform at their business. With pay of course..

~Although he adores telling others of you but he dose tell his listeners that he must warn them that you are in a loving relationship and he will not tolerate those who want to interfere with your love life..

~What a gentleman!~

~ Sometimes you two will stay up late and slow dance to the radio, ( like a nice song will be “All the things you are by Dizzy Gillespie). You will be holding his hand while you have a hand on his shoulder, his grin- well unchanged but sweet. He hand on your hips & his head close to yours..

~ As an Half Angel, you do tend to view things differently from Alastor but you’d learned to be fine with it.. like for example, cannibalism. Yes you live in the Cannibal Colony but you aren’t a cannibal yourself, your just very good friends with the head of the colony, Rosie.

~She doesn’t mind the fact your aren’t cannibal but she just adores you as much as Alastor . As a friend of course!

~ Alastor is happy that you and Rosie are great friends, sometimes you too will go on outings around the town. Alastor trusts Rosie around you, even though you are half angel.

~ Alastor and you go on so many dates, at least three times a week. He’s always a gentleman, holding the door for you, pushing your chair in, complimenting you, insisting on paying for the both of you. What a man..

~ You know Husker & Niffty,- of course!. You & Niffty tend to go shopping for clothing together since you both have certain tastes in clothing, which makes the trip more enjoyable! She would give you her opinions on what outfits to wear for your performances!

~And you will tell her what shade of pink will suite her the best and occasionally have to calm her down when she see a male walking around.

~Husker has to push his manners button for you, because you are Alastor’s one & only so he doesn’t want to get hurt by him. He dose know what types of drinks you like.

~But you don’t necessarily drink a lot so he has fruity alternatives like, an strawberry lemonade, sparkling cider or a sherry temple - with extra cherries please!

~He dose like your company too, you will tell him about the bars that have a lot of gambling there and sometimes will tell him to go have fun while Alastor is in a good mood.

~You do tend to visit Alastor at his little pet project- The Hazbin Hotel, of course! You don’t want to redeem yourself but you’re supporting your love, no matter what.

~But when you meet the princess of hell, Charlie. You both question each other, another half angel half demon?. Do you know each other? But Alastor just just hummed sweetly to you, not to “worry about what you are! It will ruin your sweet charms”.

~ You would leave him lunch, usually containing deer meat and sweet honey beignets. The beignets homemade of course, since he’s from New Orleans.

~ When it comes to, killing other demons or demons selling their souls to Alastor your not bothered by it. You would most of the time just stare at the demon/sinner in quietness. But if they rubbed Alastor the wrong way, well you won’t show mercy to them either. “Please! Make him stop! I’m begging you! Sweet Angel!”

~Walking up to them, gently lifting their head up as their body- mangled.. you would smile sweetly, “ Sweet, demon.. how I pity you as an Angel. But for disturbing my Alastor.. I’m afraid you must die now..”

~And with a snap of his fingers, the demon is no more as you grin. Placing a soft peck on his cheek, his grin growing larger.

~ “ Now my dear, how bout a dance?” He cheers as he wrapped his hand around your waist, “I’d love too!”

~~~~~~

Aaaaaaa-! That’s the end!!! I hope you like it!! I personally love it I think it’s very cute!! Part 2 of Lucifer vs Alastor will be done by tomorrow!! And I can not wait for the last two episodes of Hazbin Hotel!!!!

~myredrainbow

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter five: i am found on the ground | read chapter four

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.5k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: if you'd like to see my notes (and my thoughts behind a certain inclusion of a character in this chapter), you can find them here <3 (also i'm on fire is playing in the last scene the formatting of the lyrics just killed me so i had to get rid of it thank you all)

“You just can’t beat it.”

“It was okay.”

You turn sharply to look at Tim, who shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. 

In the kitchen, Steph snorts. “Here we go.”

You ignore her. “Okay? Inception was okay—”

“Uncalled for—”

“But true. This?” You gesture to his flatscreen TV, where the end credits for Interstellar are playing; you’re a little bit red-eyed from the end scenes with Cooper and Murph but no less passionate. “This is more than okay. It’s—”

“Not technically scientifically accurate.”

You grab a pillow and gently whack him with it. He tries to hide a growing smile. You don’t understand what exactly he’s smiling at but you don’t care in this moment.

“It’s not about scientific accuracy, duck boy, it’s about love.”

“Yeah!” Steph yells from the kitchen. “Go love! Woo!”

You gesture in her direction. “He literally said it in the movie, Tim. How can you miss it? And Brand, too!”

“It wasn’t enough to save who she loved, though,” he points out—ever the devil’s advoactate, honestly…

“But it was there and she knew that, too, and she was okay with it. And it was enough for Cooper and Murph, too. I mean, literally to the point that she was able to save humanity. Right? Brand said it—love is the one thing we are capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.”

Tim looks… well, far from upset or annoyed. He seems amused, almost… almost fond, the way he looks at you, but it’s too much for you to handle, so you look away, pouting a little.

“And also, okay, I know entering the black hole wasn’t ‘scientifically accurate’ but that’s the point, that some higher being switched them out so he didn’t die. You do have to admit, however, that the depiction of the black hole, which I’ll give Nolan props for, was great.”

“Okay, true,” he concedes. “The score was pretty good, too.”

“It was excellent.”

Steph steps out from the kitchen, looking at her phone. “Give me a sec, you guys, my mom’s calling me.”

You both give her an affirmative and she steps out the front door. You and Tim quickly resume your discussion.

“Inception’s score was good, too,” he points out. 

“Bah. They both had Zimmer. Of course it’s going to be good. But Interstellar has the benefit of being enhanced by it because it’s already a good movie. I mean, it surprises even me that Nolan could manage to pull off something like this.”

“He has the range,” Tim protests. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you Nolan stan. I’m still a bit hung-up on you saying it’s just ‘okay.’ I mean, sure, it could just be me projecting my own grief about my dead parents onto the story about a dad crossing space and time to get back to his daughter but still!”

That’s the understatement of the century. The scenes between Cooper and an old Murph never fail to make you tear up. Any of the scenes between them, really. 

The prolonged silence from Tim tips you off and it’s only when you look at him do you realize your mistake.

His eyes are wide as he looks at you, surprised, with something else. 

“Oh, it’s fine—”

“Your parents are—”

You both stop. 

You clear your throat, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I… I mean, sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I joke about it sometimes.”

“No,” he says. “It’s okay. It just surprised me. I guess… I don’t want to—I mean—I’m, uh, sorry?”

You shift on the couch, turning more toward him. “It’s okay. It was… well, not that long ago, but—”

You stop, because your instinctive response is ‘I’m over it’ but that’s not totally true, is it? You don’t think you’ll ever be over it. One part of you still feels horribly robbed of them, and some days, their deaths feel so monumental you can barely get through the day, while others, you can function normally for the most part. 

“No, I understand,” he says softly. “My parents, too. My mom when I was younger but my dad died when I was sixteen. It’s… not really something you get over, I think. No matter how much time passes.”

A quiet moment between you. It’s not like he’s tried to make you feel ostracized—if anything he’s gone out of his way to make you feel welcomed here, to make sure he and Steph don’t get too caught up on their own and they include you—but… This is a common thread between you and you know he knows and you know he knows you know. 

“Yeah… Yeah, exactly.” You pause, glancing at the TV, where the credits are rolling now. “It happened when I was fifteen. The, um, earthquake.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again and you know he means it. 

“I’m sorry about yours, too.”

Tim nods, the look on his face still soft, still gentle, then he glances back at the TV. 

“I was kidding, you know,” he says next. “It, uh, really was good. Better than I thought it would be. Scientific inaccuracy aside…”

“It’s good,” you press, ignoring the last comment. “And I don’t think it was trying to fool anyone into scientific accuracy.”

“Also true. I just…”

“Wasn’t expecting it to hit that hard?” you guess, smiling. “Yeah, I get it. Cried like a baby when I first saw it. You’re stronger than me for getting through it dry-eyed.”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for later,” he says. “Saving my sorrows for my pillow. That kind of thing.”

You laugh loudly. He smiles. 

“It does unearth all the dead parent trauma, though,” he says. 

“Oh, tell me about it. Cooper wanting to try to go back home after they find out Dr. Brand never intended to help those on earth…”

“And then having to sacrifice himself to give Brand a chance,” he finishes, shaking his head. “Only for it to turn out well in the end. If only real life was like that.”

A shade too dark for right now but you can’t say you disagree. 

The front door opens. Steph slips back inside, raising an eyebrow at you two. Though she hardly means what you think she means, you find yourself inching away from Tim, turning back forward slightly. You’d hate to give her the wrong impression.

And of course, that is not at all what she is thinking about.

“Why do you two look like someone just died?”

“Well, we were just talking about our dead parents, so,” Tim responds without missing a beat.

You burst out laughing. Steph groans. 

“I was wrong. You two shouldn’t be friends.”

“It’s too late for that, I think,” Tim says, grinning. 

You can’t help but grin, too.

She groans again.

Catwoman is your next vigilante visitor.

All skin-tight latex and a coquettish attitude that makes your face hot.

Luckily, she doesn’t appear to mind. She even pays for her stuff. 

(“I was told,” she purrs. “And I don’t much like being told what to do but… you’re cute enough to convince me to go along with it.”

You don’t think the noise you made was human but it amused her enough.)

Alongside that, you have the others who regularly drop by. Your vigilantes, but then, as you pick up a few weekend afternoon shifts (much to Steph’s disapproval), some normal faces, too.

Barbara, a red-haired woman with sharp green eyes who has a stately and intimidating aura to her but is always pleasant when you two chat. Sometimes she has another woman with her, a pretty blond Barbara calls D. Then, that one man, the stocky blonde with the tortoise-shell glasses and a quiet but kind disposition, who eventually introduces himself as Jean-Paul. 

You spot him during one of your weekend shifts, waiting his turn as you finish ringing up a harried-looking lady. Another man joins him, a little bit younger, you think, with dark hair and an odd white streak at the front; they’re both dressed in scrubs. 

“It’s been a while, Jason.”

“You know how it is, JP. Work doesn’t stop. How’s Leslie?”

“Doing everything at once and somehow managing to pull it off. I’m sure she’d like to see you, if you could find the time.”

“Sure. I’ve got a couple days off from the hospital. I could drop in. Lend a hand.”

A soft chuckle. “If she doesn’t turn you around and tell you to go rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

He coughs. The other man snickers.

Just as the lady leaves, Jean-Paul says, “Let me pay.”

“I won’t say no.”

They both step up to the counter. Jean-Paul gives you a small smile in greeting and seems to decide to forgo your usual small talk—probably because of his new company, which you’re a bit grateful for. The other man—Jason?—nods, eyeing you curiously. Why, you have no idea. But that’s the only thing odd about it. You ring up the coffees without issue and soon, they’re stepping out, Jean-Paul giving you another small smile in goodbye. You return it. 

Having regulars like that reminds you of the ones you had in Keystone City. Kind Mr. Garrick, who stopped by about once a month for lottery tickets, his wife typically in tow; they were always kind to you, always a little bit concerned over your wellbeing, whether you were getting enough sleep or eating well. Painfully reminiscent of grandparents you never had. 

A little more frequently, there was Linda Park-West, a face you easily recognized from WKEY-TV for the Channel 4 News. She didn’t miss much, always so perceptive, but kind to you, sometimes testing your PR skills as a reporter. She usually stopped by for coffee before work but on occasion, she brought along her kids, Jai and Iris, to let them pick out something for themselves, too. Quite literal balls of energy, they were a handful but always good-intentioned. 

You miss them all a lot. More than you thought you would. The Flash, too. Especially these days. What you’d give to talk to him about all this stuff…

But you’ve managed on your own since your parents died. You can keep doing it. 

The following week, Tuesday night, you get another new vigilante visitor.

This one?

Robin. 

He is, admittedly, a figure you are considerably more scared of. It’s a bit… silly on your part, too, because he is a kid, you think, a teen at least, but, well, teens can be scary. This one certainly is. If only because of his close proximity to the one who scares the most. The one who you are happy not to have visited you thus far and Robin’s appearance… well, you don’t entirely know if it’s a good thing. 

But it might be foolish to assume that Batman doesn’t know this is happening. 

But then thinking of him knowing you exist makes you horribly anxious, so, you shelve the thought for now and try to focus on the situation.

Which is…

The three dogs in tow collapse in front of the door, panting, tongues lolled out, appearing to enjoy the air-conditioned bliss of the inside of the store. Robin stares at you, his face a blank mask. 

“Water?”

“At the back. Far left.”

He nods and turns.

You wait there, uncertain, glancing at the dogs. They look worse for wear, fur dirty and matted, old scars healed over; the sight tugs at your heart, so you step around from the counter, heading to the coffee machine. The store doesn’t carry bowls but the extra-large soda cups are wide enough to work for now. 

Robin appears near you, several big bottles of water held in hand. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you and the cups.

“Don’t have any bowls,” you admit. “So, I thought this might work.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Styrofoam. Wasteful. But it’ll do.”

“Yeah, Circle K isn’t breaking barriers in terms of eco-friendliness.”

He says nothing to that, just turns and heads for the dogs. You follow him, not that turned off. You’ve heard rumors about this particular Robin. He does a good job but can be… rough around the edges. Like Bat, like Robin, you guess.

Glancing at the cups, you get an idea, stopping to duck around the counter and grab a pair of scissors. You cup off the top half of each of them, Robin taking them as you go, until all three cups are cut, allowing for the dogs to have better reach. 

You join him with the last one, filling it with cold water. Most of the dogs are so heat tired, they only lift their heads to drink, seemingly unable to stand.

You and Robin stay kneeled in front of them, filling the cups when necessary. You gently stroke the head of one nearest to you, smiling as his tail thumps against the tiles. 

Robin says nothing else and neither do you. That’s how his time there goes, spent in silence, petting the dogs, letting them cool down and rest. 

Eventually, he starts to leave, and you can’t help but ask, “What’s going to happen to them?”

He regards you for a moment and you get the unnerving feeling of being picked apart and analyzed. Still, you hold steady. It’s good practice, you try to tell yourself. One day, you’ll be faced with bloodhounds for journalists and you have to keep it together. Let yourself practice with Robin because if you can pull it off with him, you can do it with anyone. 

“The shelters are closed for the night,” he eventually responds. “I will take them somewhere safe, off the streets. Then in the morning, they’ll go there.”

“That’s good. Thanks for doing that. It’s kind of you.”

He pauses, looking back at the dogs, who are rejuvenated by this point, stretching and standing up, tails wagging as they look at you two. 

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says at last. “And… thank you, for your help.”

You glance away, picking up the cups. “Sure. No problem.”

A nod and Robin is soon corralling the dogs out of the store, murmuring more gently to them than you would expect, but from this experience, you suspect he has some kind of soft spot for animals. It’s endearing, in a way. 

You hope you made a good impression on him, too. 

(And if your good impression keeps Batman out a little longer, well, that’s just a lucky coincidence.)

The start of July creeps on you. 

There is still achingly little contact between you and Tim. By this point, you haven’t seen him in person for more than a month.

You miss him, in the same way you miss a limb. Scrolling through your social media, whenever you find something funny or that he would like, your knee-jerk reaction is to send it to him. But your conversations on those respective platforms are made up of messages from you and none from him, so you have to stop yourself, because it wouldn’t be worth it. He wouldn’t see it. 

Steph tries to preoccupy your time, though her behavior regarding Tim grows increasingly skittish, to the point where you almost think she might know.

She might know that you’re in love with him, him, her ex-boyfriend and first love. The thought brings on the usual amount of soul-crushing guilt and disgust with yourself. How can you do that to her? She’s your best friend. You love her to the ends of the universe and back and… How can you do that to her?

But… something else about it all niggles at you, too. She switches between reassuring you he’ll come around, and dismissing him the other times, saying you ‘don’t need him to have a good time.’ It makes you think they may be having their own issues, too.

The thought is sobering. 

You’ve always thought of Steph and Tim as—as insane as it sounds—a pair of bonded kittens. Not exactly getting along all the time but…

You couldn’t separate them. You shouldn’t separate them. 

And it feels so wrong for it to be just you two, sometimes. Like you’re missing another piece of the puzzle and it’s noticeable. This empty space between you two that he usually filled. Your group chat, at his insistence, is called the three musketeers. Well, you’re missing your third. Desperately.

“We can rebrand,” Steph says to you one day, the two of you at the mall’s food court. Tim said he was busy. Again.

“No,” you sigh. “That’s not… no. Anyway, Big Belly?”

“I—oh, you have got to be kidding me.” She sounds annoyed, voice sharp.

“What?” you ask, your eyes still on the menu in front of you. 

She grabs your arm. “I think we should eat somewhere else.”

You frown at her. “But you said you wanted to get—”

“We can get Big Belly somewhere else. Maybe a little more quiet, you know, it’s kinda crazy in here,” she laughs, though it sounds strained as she tugs you over to the exit. 

“Crazy? It’s not that busy—Stephanie!” You yelp as she drags you forward before you can take a look around. “What is going on—”

“It’s just—I think I see Jordanna—”

“Where—”

“Let’s not look! Don’t want her to see you or me, you know how she is, so, let’s get out of here…”

“Well, I—okay—you don’t have to—”

She tugs you all the way through the exit, out into the burning mid-afternoon heat. Humidity swallows you whole, turning your skin tacky, sun bearing down on you full-force. Outside, it smells sharply of gasoline and hot blacktop.

“Honestly, Steph,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t need to drag me out like that.”

She gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I just… didn’t want to deal with Jordanna. She’s been really annoying me recently.”

“Has she?” You can’t imagine why Jordanna would even be talking to her since it’s the summer, but to be fair, there isn’t much Jordanna wouldn’t do in the name of annoying her. 

“Yup. Just… acting way out of line. So, let’s go somewhere else.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Let’s get out of the heat before you have to scrape me off the pavement.”

“Food’s on me,” she promises, looping her fingers through the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you gently; too hot to hold hands or twine your arms together like usual. 

Though the whole thing bothers you a little bit, you are too used to Steph and Tim’s sometimes strange ways. Leaving abruptly, missing scheduled hangouts, a penchant for tardiness. The occasional bruise or cut that they both wave away. The exhaustion that wears them down sometimes.

It’s odd.

But stranger things happen in Gotham, so, you heed their wishes for that stuff to be ignored. 

Just like you let this one go, too. 

Really. The things you do for them.

Oddities aside, as Tim remains virtually radio silent, you miss him more. Think about him more. 

Dream about him more.

“Steph’s going to be late,” is what Tim says as soon as he steps inside your dorm. 

You snort. “Of course she is. You’re both terrible at being punctual.”

“I… am less bad at it than she is.”

“Right,” you say, smirking, pointing to your clock. “You’re only twenty minutes late, compared to what her forty minutes to an hour will be.”

Tim grimaces as he shuffles off his shoes by the door, then steps in further. “She said she was showering.”

“So, we have even more time. That’s fine. I wanted to paint my nails.”

In the bathroom you share with your ‘roommate,’ the shower turns on. It’s really just the bathroom you two share. Your small dorm is entirely private. The perks of being a junior. 

You go over to your dresser, where your collection of makeup and nail polish is. Above it, your window looks out to the grassy quad, the sky clear of clouds, unusually blue today without the typical smog; the sun shines in, dust motes dancing in the rays.

Tim comes over, too, but he goes for your phone instead, which is connected to your Bluetooth speaker, music playing lowly; he got that for you this past Christmas. 

“Gonna play your old people music?”

“Bruce Springsteen is a treasure to this country and, to quote my dad, one of the few good things to ever come out of the state of New Jersey.”

You laugh. The song changes. The upbeat notes of Hungry Heart start. You’ve heard this one more than a couple times since meeting him. It’s not so bad. 

You fiddle with the bottles of nail polishes. Tim sets your phone down and leans over, dropping his chin to your shoulder as he watches you, humming quietly under his breath. 

The contact makes your heart skip a beat, tendrils of his cologne wrapping around you, the heat of his body palpable through your thin t-shirt. It’s a contradicting sensation, with the AC working hard to beat the May heat that’s settled in. Maybe too hard, as your fingers are a little bit cold. You warm up quickly with Tim so close to you, your heart thudding in your ears. You desperately hope he can’t feel the heat that expands in your face.

That’s a more recent development. One you hate looking too closely at, for fear of what it means.

(You do know what it means. You’re just still in denial. Because admitting it means you have feelings for your best friend’s ex-boyfriend. For your best friend.)

You keep fiddling, not sure which color to pick. Tim huffs softly, reaching past you, picking out a bottle of wine red nail polish.

“Fine. But you have to help,” you say, taking it from him, then grabbing another bottle for the top coat. 

“Don’t I always?”

You just nudge him back, stepping away from the dresser and taking a seat on the floor. The floor is hard, polished concrete; not pleasant to sit on or walk on, so you’ve invested in several cushioned rugs to cover as much as you can. 

Tim grabs a Zesti from your mini fridge, then joins you as you set to painting the nails of your left hand. This one is easier since you’re using your dominant hand and you manage to paint your nails without catching any of the skin around them. 

The shower in your bathroom hums underneath the sound of the song as you finish your left hand. The first coat, anyway. Tim passes his Zesti to you, wipes a hand on his jeans to get rid of the condensation, then takes the bottle of nail polish. 

You sip the soda, extending your right hand to him. He carefully balances the bottle on the rug and sets to painting your nails. 

Like with most things he does, Tim dedicates himself to his task wholeheartedly, cornflower blue eyes trained on your hand, tongue poking out in concentration. The sight makes your heart skip a beat. Warmth unspools in your chest like cotton candy.

Sunlight pours in from the window above the dresser, bathing him in warm, golden rays; it makes the shade of his dark hair warmer, the blue of his t-shirt, too, softening the pale of his skin. 

“So… how was that date?”

The question jars you. You avert your eyes. 

Ah. The date you agreed to go on with a guy in your communications class in an attempt to… you don’t know. Distract yourself from Tim? Try to find someone else to latch onto? All… not so great reasons, you know, but needs must. 

Not like it worked out, anyway…

“Terrible.”

He stiffens, pausing in his work to look at you, eyes narrowing, and you send him a small smile, privately pleased—though you shouldn’t be—at seeing him get all protective. You can take care of yourself and he knows that, too, but… one can appreciate having a cute guy be like that for you. Within reason, anyway. 

“He didn’t do anything, Timmy, relax. He was just… well, seemed nice initially. But when we got to the restaurant, he was horrible to the waitress. I already wasn’t feeling it, but after that, no way. So.”

He glances away, thumb rubbing idly at the back of your hand from where he cradles it in his. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t a good idea.”

“To go with him or—” he clears his throat, turning back to his work “—dating in general?”

“I don’t know. He just wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“What are you looking for?”

You, you want to say, but don’t. 

Frightening to realize, really, that the answer to that question is immediate, as sure as the day. 

It’s Tim. 

Always Tim. 

But you’ve never felt this way for someone. This strongly, like you want so much, you could never be satisfied. 

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, watching the brush of the handle glide over your nail in easy, practiced sweeps. “Does anyone?”

“I guess not,” he concedes softly. “But still. I hope you can find it.”

The song changes. Something calmer, with the strum of the guitar. Familiar croons of I'm On Fire.

I have found it, you want to say. It’s you. It’s this. Right here, right now.

But just because you found it doesn’t mean it’s yours.

“Do you?” you find yourself asking because apparently you’re feeling extra masochistic today. “Know what you’re looking for, I mean.”

Steph sometimes teases him. Tries to point out nice boys and girls he might like. You used to play along. You don’t so much these days. 

He would always wave it off, anyway. Just shake his head and change the subject. He has dated before. Obviously. Someone as gorgeous as him… all of Gotham wants a piece of him. You do, too. Well. You want all of him. Which is another thing you are just now realizing. But anyway, since you’ve known him, he hasn’t dated anyone. He used to date a boy—Bernard? Steph said he was a character—from one of his old high schools but that didn’t work out. And now he still has the occasional date, but it never pans out. He says they just aren’t compatible. 

Makes you curious.

You’d never match up to it, you know, but you want to know, anyway. 

Tim looks up, his eyes slowly scanning your face. This close, with the sunlight, you can see the shadows his lashes cast on his cheeks, the flecks of silver in his eyes, like mercury, the odd scars, too, that he excuses behind clumsiness as a child. Everything inside you squeezes.

“I guess you can say that,” he eventually says, voice soft. 

The words hurt, but distantly, like it’s all far away from you. You’re too caught up here, now, close enough to smell his cologne. 

Tension thickens the air between you. It’s unfamiliar, unknown, but not unwelcome with how your stomach swoops like you missed a step, heart pounding in your ears. 

Tim looks… contemplative. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the movement of him biting his lip, teeth sinking into plush pink, and the urge to soothe away the indents with your own lips is fearsome, monumental, like a hurricane. 

His fingers tighten on your hand. You want to get swept away in this moment, no matter the consequences. It’s a dangerous kind of feeling you aren’t used to. 

But the shower abruptly shuts off in the bathroom, plunging the room back into silence with the strum of the guitar and the croon of the song as it ends. The moment is broken. 

Tim clears his throat and returns to his work. 

Neither of you say anything. 

Too much for you to want. 

Too much you cannot have.

Too complicated.

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[dark-frosted-heart]

I Love You, I've Sinned - Azel

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

One day during my stay in Tanzanite, I wound up becoming a servant to God—

Emma: Prince Azel…Is it true that you deliver divine punishment to people?

When I asked Prince Azel about this after handing him something he had me fetch for him in town, rather than giving me his usual smile, he scowled. 

Azel: What did you see while out in town?

Emma: There was theft in the market today. The criminal was immediately captured by a passerby—

~~ Flashback ~~

Male onlooker: How dare you…Never did I expect that there would be such a ruckus in God’s own land.

Female onlooker: You will face divine punishment. Our Living God will not forgive you.

~~ Flashback end~~ 

Emma: —It seemed like everyone, the thieves included, feared “divine punishment”.

Azel: Absurd.

Emma: Have you ever threatened people across the country in the past?

Azel: That slander deserves some reparations.

Emma: I can’t say anything at all can I…

Azel: Don’t talk nonsense unless you want to experience divine punishment for yourself.

Emma: Ah, so divine punishment does exist.

Azel: Who knows?

After checking what he had me get for him, Prince Azel placed the jute bag in a corner of the crumbling ruins.

The temple which was supposed to be the Living God’s home, was as shabby as ever.

(Prince Azel’s a two-faced god, so it’d be scary if he actually did deliver divine punishment…)

Azel: Have you ever sinned?

Seems like Prince Azel’s in a good mood if he’s continuing the conversation even though he said not to talk about nonsense.

Emma: Probably…not

Azel: You’re lying.

Emma: Why do you say so?

Azel: Because no humans are without sin.

Emma: …Wouldn’t that mean everyone’s been imprisoned before?

Azel: Has anyone ever told you how empty your head is?

Emma: This is the first.

Azel: Have you never been exposed as an idiot before?

(You have a response for everything…)

Prince Azel leaned against a wall in the shade.

I followed suit and took a sip of water out of my flask.

Azel: Only acts that violate the law aren’t sins. Sins are actions that deserve God’s divine punishment.

Emma: So only God has control?

Azel: Is that so bad?

Emma: …No.

Azel: Simply put, anything you think you’re guilty of is a sin. Surely you’ve also been guilty of something to some extent. Whether it’s telling small lies, hiding things from others, or doing something to hurt someone unintentionally… As long as you’re alive, it’s hard to avoid them.

Emma: Well when you put it that way.

(Then, looking back, I probably have too)

(Sins that I need to apologize for…)

Azel: Confess your sins to God, and through receiving divine punishment, all will be forgiven. Perhaps that’s why people seek God…How laughable.

(Hm?)

Mysterious, starry eyes look at the flask in my hand.

Emma: …I’m not giving it to you?

Azel: Stingy.

Emma: I don’t want to hear that from a greedy god.

Azel [polite]: Ahhh, then at this rate I will dry up and die.

Emma: …

Azel [polite]: For a human to treat a god so cruelly…That’s god abuse.

Emma: …

Azel [polite]: God abuse is a felony and the charges cannot be compared to any that has existed to this point—

Emma: OKAY! Then in exchange for the water, please forget that the reparations demanded earlier ever existed.

Azel [polite]: Of course. Thank you very much.

(Can’t believe you put on the god act in times like this…)

When I handed Prince Azel the flask, he started drinking immediately.

(I don’t mind giving him water, but…does Prince Azel care at all?)

Feeling restless somehow, I turned my gaze away from the mysterious god and toward the ruins.

(...)

(If god abuse is a sin, then…)

(There’s one guilty sin I remember)

--

—That night.

When I came to, I found myself in place with half-bloomed roses.

(I’m here again…)

The usual dream in the usual place, but today, there was something unusual.

At the end of the countless paths stood a figure.

That person sat improperly on the oak table where a book usually was, and as I walked down the path, he turned from the large full moon in the sky toward me.

Azel: We ran into each other in a dream? …Give me a break.

Emma: That’s my line. It’s not like I enjoy running into you either.

(I heard that dreams have some deep psychological meaning, but…)

(I wonder if seeing Prince Azel means he’s occupying my mind that much)

(...That being a good or bad thing’s another story)

Azel sat on the table with one knee up and looked down at me cheekily.

It was like the dream world enhanced his mysterious, inhuman appearance.

Emma: …You’re not here to deliver divine punishment, are you?

Azel: If you’re feeling guilty then maybe.

Emma: …

Azel: You are.

Emma: Who knows…

Azel: Sins are forgiven when you confess. It’s easier to let it out than to suffer in distress, that’s just how it is.

Emma: …

Azel: Say it, then. If you seriously ask for forgiveness, then I’ll deliver divine punishment to you. …It’s not a free service though.

(That’s why he’s so oddly assertive)

Emma: Nevermind then.

Azel: No, ask for forgiveness. Or else this dream won’t end.

Emma: That’s a threat!

Azel: Talking back to God like that’s asking for more to be added on to what you owe.

(...If Prince Azel wasn’t a real god, then I could ignore him)

Tanzanite’s living god was a true god, recognized and revered as sacred throughout the continent.

Even if the face he showed me was different from the face he showed the public, I wouldn’t dare to ignore God’s word.

Emma: …Will you listen without getting angry?

Azel: That depends.

Emma: To tell you the truth… The other day, I saw you taking a nap. Even when I got closer, you didn’t wake up, so… …Out of curiosity, I played with your beautiful, silver hair.

Azel: …

Emma: I’m so sorry! But it felt really nice to touch!

Azel: That’s a grave sin.

When I tried to run away, Prince Azel lept off the table and stopped me with a hand on my shoulder before jabbing my cheek.

Emma: Please stop! The jabbing really feels like you’re going to hollow my cheeks out!

Azel: Accept your punishment. I noticed your eccentric behavior though.

Emma: Then why didn’t you wake up?

Azel: I wasn’t in the mood to entertain you.

(A very Prince Azel-like reason)

When he finally released me, I rubbed my cheek.

(Even though I suffered…my heart definitely feels lighter)

(I can’t let him off easy…)

Emma: Have you ever sinned, Prince Azel?

When I asked the question in retaliation, he shrugged in exasperation.

Azel: How could a god sin?

Emma: At it again…

Azel: If there’s no one to punish it, then it’s not a sin. If neither man nor god can punish me, then no one can punish me for my sins.

Emma: …

Azel: Perhaps one day God will commit a mortal sin. When that time comes…I wonder who will sit on the Throne of God and punish me.

Prince Azel’s mutterings melted into the dream space.

(That…doesn’t sound like a joke…)

Emma: Leave it to me. If it needs to be done, I’ll do it.

As if to dispel the mysterious aura around the god, I made a proud declaration.

Emma: I hope your cheeks will be able to stand it.

Azel: That doesn’t sound like a big punishment to me.

Emma: Stay complacent while you can. I have a mean slap.

Azel: …No one’s asking you to slap me.

Emma: If it doesn’t hurt, then it’s not a punishment worthy of being divine punishment.

When I pretended to slap him, Prince Azel smiled condescendingly. 

However, there didn’t appear to be any ill intentions behind the smile.

Azel: If God were to sin, then it would be a sin on a different level from humans. Possibly enough to wipe out an entire country. Punish that sin if you can…Actually you might do that.

Prince Azel looked up at the glittering moon in the dream world.

I still wasn’t sure about the meaning behind that melancholic look on his profile.

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Six

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

A/N: I would like to thank "girl i've always been" by Olivia Rodrigo for helping me produce this one. Thanks for your patience and your love on the last chapter. Enjoy, and let me know if you would like to be tagged.

Also, I make no promises on the accuracy of international travel, time changes, and FBI investigations from this point forward. Welcome to the world of fanfiction, everyone--everything is subject to the machinations of my own mind. 😈

Sorry if the editing is crap. Needs must, and all that.

TW: drinking/alcohol

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My other, completed, Feysand AU: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting

Chapter Six

It took Rhysand two days—two days—to get in touch with Feyre after Azriel’s attack.

“I’m going to kill you,” Feyre hissed through her teeth as she stepped onto the Illyria Station platform, the final station on the Prythian City Metro Line. Rhys’s eyebrow rose at the venom in Feyre’s voice, one large hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her away from the train and through the station, up the stairs, and into an awaiting black car.

“You realize you just threatened to murder a federal prosecutor,” Rhys noted as he tapped on the window separating them from the front seats. The driver pulled away from the curb.

“What of it?” Feyre asked. “Bare threats won't get you anywhere in court.”

“Maybe so, but if you do kill me, there are plenty of witnesses on the platform who could testify to your intent.”

“Good luck tracking them down when you’re dead,” Feyre said, holding Rhys’s gaze, his eyes twinkling in the dimness of the car.

Feyre almost smiled back at him, at the way words tripped so easily off her tongue whenever Rhys was around. But she swallowed the urge, instead rolling her eyes and slumping down in the leather seat, Rhys’s eyes tracking her every move. “Are you going to tell me if Agent Lapis is alright or not, or are you just going to press me for more information on—?”

Rhys lunged forward, his large hands covering her mouth. “No names until we get to the safe house.”

He waited for her to nod, his very large body taking up so much space as he hovered over her, the scent of salt and citrus enveloping her at his closeness.

Feyre struggled to suck down a breath, and it wasn't because Rhys was covering her mouth.

“Don’t you trust your driver?” Feyre asked when Rhys removed his hands, her body suddenly cold as he slid across the leather seat, back toward his side of the car.

“Of course I do,” Rhys said. “But we can’t be too careful. After Azriel’s attack, it’s best we take a little more care with our conversations, where we are, who sees us together.”

Feyre didn’t say anything, folding her arms over her chest.

Rhys blew out a breath. “Azriel is fine. He took a bad beating, but he’s had worse. He’ll be on his feet in another day or two, albeit with a few extra bruises.”

“And do you think it was—was—” Feyre pressed her lips together, unsure if she refrained from saying Tamlin’s name because of Rhys’s caution or because she still could barely fathom that someone she had thought she knew might sanction such violent behavior.

Rhys nodded curtly. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. We can talk then.”

The ten minutes passed quickly, Feyre mentally reviewing the information she had gathered in the past few days. She had managed to glean the location of Tamlin’s next business venture by going through his phone well past midnight the night before, slipping his phone from his nightstand and hiding away in the closet until she had found something, anything that might put a stop to everything Spring Solutions was doing.

Illyria was a pleasant enough town, if a little run down. The small main street the town car carried Feyre and Rhys down boasted a few cafes, a restaurant or two, and even a bar. Feyre caught sight of a bookstore, already closed for the evening, at the very end of the street, and something else that might have been an arts and crafts shop. She continued to observe as they left the main street and entered a series of residential neighborhoods, partly because she had never visited Illyria before, and partly because it gave her something to do in such a small space with Rhys mere inches away.

At last, the driver turned into a gated neighborhood full of quaint historical homes. The car pulled into the driveway of a red-brick home, two stories tall, with black shutters and white columns. Feyre unbuckled her seat belt as the car pulled around the back of the house, entirely out of sight of the street.

“Home sweet home,” Rhys said as Feyre rounded the car to stand next to him.

“Home?” she stammered, turning to stare up at him.

“One of them,” he said. “Once upon a time.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes as he strode up the back steps, producing a small key and unlocking the back door. He stepped back to let her enter first, and Feyre slid past him, her elbow brushing his stomach as she set foot on the dark wood floors.

Rhys followed her, flicking on a light switch, a warm glow flooding the hallway as Feyre delved further into the house.

Warm dark floors stretched down the long hallway that spanned from the back door directly to the front, the rooms of the first floor on either side of the hall. To her left was a small kitchen, with white appliances, light wood cabinets, and forest green tile backsplash. To her right was a closed door that she guessed led to a bedroom or office. Rhys ushered her toward the front of the house, gesturing to a small sitting room to their right. Across the hall from the sitting room was a small dining room. Both rooms boasted floor to ceiling, built-in shelves bursting with books and trinkets of all shapes and sizes.

Feyre settled herself onto a grey couch in the sitting room, gazing around the small space as Rhys ensured the curtains facing the street were drawn shut.

“This is your house?” Feyre asked as Rhys, satisfied with the curtains, crossed the plush red rug to the fireplace on the far wall, leaning down to start it with the push of a button. Flames danced to life in the hearth, Feyre’s brows raising at the sight. The house itself felt old, quaint. But the fixtures—the fireplace, the chandelier above them, even the appliances in the kitchen, were all quite modern.

“I grew up here,” Rhys said. “It was my mother’s house. My father didn’t want it—hasn’t been here in years—after she died. He gave it to me, told me to sell it if I wished. I thought about it for a while. It’s too far from the city for me to live in full-time. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of someone else living here. So I decided to keep it, update some of the appliances, the heating system, all that, thinking one day I would sell it for a higher price after all the improvements. But I… haven’t.”

“It’s lovely,” Feyre said.

Rhys gave a brisk grin, sitting down on the couch across from Feyre and clasping his hands between his knees. “Azriel and Mor should be down any minute.”

Feyre's brows creased, but Rhys shook his head. “Azriel’s staying here while he recuperates, and Mor arrived about an hour before us to check on him and make sure things were in order for this meeting. It's nothing... like that."

Feyre nodded, filing away the information for later.

They sat in comfortable silence while they awaited, and the creaking ceiling above Feyre told her Mor and Azriel were aware of the scheduled meeting and coming to meet them any second. Indeed, they emerged from the narrow staircase that occupied part of the central hallway, Azriel’s face several shades of black, blue, and yellow bruises.

“Gods above,” Feyre breathed, leaping to her feet and meeting Azriel halfway across the room. “Are you alright?” She asked, arms reaching toward him before she realized she wasn’t sure what to do with them.

But Azriel softly gripped her upper arms, his swollen lip breaking into a small smile. “I’m fine, Feyre. Occupational hazard.”

Feyre let Azriel lead her over to the couch after she greeted Mor, who had frozen in the hallway, gazing wide-eyed at Feyre and Azriel. At Feyre's "Hello," Mor swallowed, stepping into the living room at last.

“You were truly concerned for him,” Mor noted, taking a seat next to Rhys as Feyre forced Azriel to sit down first before she settled herself next to him.

Feyre folded her arms, glaring at Rhys. “Ask his Royal Highness the United States Attorney.”

“She threatened to kill me for making her wait this long,” Rhys admitted, eyes never leaving Feyre’s.

“Well, you’ve seen me. I’m fine,” Azriel said in that soft, but cutting, voice of his. “And I appreciate it, Feyre. I really do.”

Feyre tore her gaze from Rhys’s violet eyes and met Azriel’s hazel ones, nodding once before she strengthened her resolve.

“I know where Tamlin’s going next,” she announced.

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

One week later, the plans were arranged.

Cassian and Mor would board a plane for northern Washington State, hours after the private plane Lucien and Tamlin had chartered that would take them to the same place. The agents had arranged to rent a car to follow the two Spring Solutions higher-ups to the manufacturing plant that Tamlin had arranged a relationship with. Thanks to the vague map Feyre had found that first night of her sleuthing, the group had determined the estimated location of the exchange—the place Tamlin would accept responsibility for the non-compliant environmental materials. Then, the FBI Agents would trail whatever transport Tamlin had arranged until he either stored it or disposed of it. At that point, they hoped to have witnessed enough illegal activity that there would be plenty of cause to make an arrest—or at the very least to bring charges against Tamlin and Spring Solutions and end the illegal operation once and for all.

The plan made sense, despite the limited information it was based upon. The agents had planned everything to perfection. The intel Feyre had provided had allowed them to skirt the problem they had run into time and time again—because Tamlin and Lucien flew privately, under an ever-changing roster of company names other than Spring Solutions, and were careful to take nondescript vehicles to the private airport, it was difficult for the FBI to follow the duo when they jetted off to consult with their next client. But Feyre’s provision of the location had changed everything. The entire case might be resolved in less than a day.

Feyre, however, was pissed.

She had provided the information. She was the one who continued to stay with Tamlin, who still slept in his bed, in order to get this information for the FBI. And yet she hadn’t been invited to come along for the bust.

It was infuriating, and the worst kind of insult. She had spent the better part of an hour arguing with Rhys, Mor, and Azriel about it as they had discussed the information in Rhysand’s mother’s home that night a week ago.

It all came down to protocol, however, and civilians weren’t to be pulled into such dangerous surveillance activities if it was avoidable. And unfortunately, Feyre was a mole and nothing more. Cassian and Mor were the FBI agents, and they would be taking the lead in the investigation. Not even Rhysand was going.

Feyre lay on her couch, her casebooks unopened on the coffee table next to her as she stared at the clock on her phone. She was at least trusted enough to be told what time Cassian and Mor’s plane would be taking off—2:27 p.m.

Feyre rolled her eyes. What an honor.

The clock turned to 2:28, and she knew they were gone.

Feyre sighed, rolling off the couch and laying on the floor for a minute. Then two. Then three.

If they didn’t catch Tamlin—what then? How much longer would she need to stay here?

Feyre knew she could change her mind at any point. The FBI, and Rhysand, wouldn’t blame her. But what then? How could she live with herself knowing she had taken away the FBI’s only viable opportunity to bring down Spring Solutions?

No, Feyre didn’t have a choice. She was in this until Tamlin discovered her treachery or he was behind bars.

Eventually, Feyre peeled herself off the floor and padded through the empty apartment toward her closet.

Sure, it was 2:28 pm on a Friday, but Feyre didn’t have plans for the rest of the day.

Or the rest of the weekend.

So why not jump into her pajamas and read for her Corporations Law class until her eyes ceased focusing properly?

Feyre snorted at herself as she flicked on the light in the closet. Here she was, an informant for the FBI, a job that sounded so glamorous, so important, so mysterious.

And yet it was mid-afternoon on a Friday and Feyre was already shedding her bra for the day.

What was her life?

She sighed as she crossed to the enormous dresser against one of the walls of the closet. She shoved aside the suit jacket Tamlin had worn that morning, hastily discarded over the top of the dresser, the fabric emitting a faint crinkling sound as it hit the floor.

She had just reached into the drawer to retrieve the tattered old t-shirt and sweatpants that she slept in when she froze, slowly turning to gaze at the navy blazer, crumpled on the floor at her feet.

Because that crinkling sound. . . That wasn't just fabric.

Feyre knelt, sweatpants forgotten as she fished through the pockets of Tamlin’s jacket. A month ago, she wouldn’t have even considered doing this. Wouldn’t have been so hyperaware of everything having to do with her boyfriend, so anxious that the sound of what was probably a gum wrapper wouldn't have raised her hackles.

But a month ago, she hadn't known her boyfriend was a criminal mastermind.

Feyre drew out a small slip of paper from the inside breast pocket of the jacket.

It was a receipt.

A receipt for a set of plane tickets.

And in tiny black script across the top was the destination of those tickets, scheduled for that day, October 7th, at 10:53 a.m:

Dublin, Ireland.

Fuck.

---------

“Where the hell are you, Feyre?”

Rhysand’s voice was so loud in her phone speaker that Feyre actually held it several inches away from her ear as she responded.

“The airport…”

“You’re kidding. " Feyre heard what sounded like a door slamming in the background of the call. "You are actually calling me because you thought it would be fun to give me a heart attack as a prank, and you’re actually home right now, on your couch, watching The Nanny or whatever ridiculous show you and Mor were discussing the other night in Illyria. You’re not at the airport about to board a flight to Dublin because your boyfriend purposefully set a red herring in case anyone was on his tail.”

Feyre didn’t respond, just smiled at the woman manning the security line Feyre currently stood in, shedding her shoes with her one available hand, the other holding her phone to her ear.

“Feyre. Tell me I’m right. Tell me you’re not at the airport.”

“Can’t, sorry. Oh, hold on, gotta send my phone through the x-ray machine thing.”

Feyre ignored Rhys’s protests, placing her phone on the x-ray belt, call with Rhys still active, before she stepped into the line to go through the human scanning machine.

It was at least five minutes before she made it through the line and retrieved her stuff from the security belt. To her surprise, Rhys was still on the line when she retrieved her phone.

“Turn around right now. What are you planning to do when you get to Ireland? Find Tamlin and confront him yourself?”

“Of course not!” Feyre exclaimed, checking the departures board and smiling as she saw that her flight was right on time, although in her eagerness to get to the airport, she had arrived much too early. She had at least an hour before boarding the flight that would take her from Prythian to New York, where she would transfer to a flight to Ireland. “I just want to follow him and record everything he does.”

Except for vague background noise, and something that sounded like the rumble of traffic, the line remained quiet for several long moments.

“I swear, Feyre Archeron, if I die before I turn thirty, it’ll be because of you and this gods-damned case.”

“You’ll thank me later!” Feyre said brightly, and hung up the phone.

An hour later, Feyre had shuffled toward her gate with the rest of those boarding her flight to New York. She had spent the last hour consuming two glasses of wine at the airport bar, her productivity while reading for her Environmental Law class sharply declining as her glass emptied. Her original intention had been to stick with one small glass of wine so that she might fall asleep more easily on her flight.

But after half an hour of staring at her textbook, a sizable pit had formed deep in her stomach. Was she truly flying to Ireland for the weekend? Chasing Tamlin halfway across the world to—to what? To make up for the fact that she had fallen for the red herring Tamlin had left in his emails, had given the FBI wrong information, and sent them in the complete opposite direction of Tamlin’s true destination? She had nowhere to stay when she got to Ireland, no idea where to start on finding transport to whatever location Tamlin had arranged his rendezvous.

So Feyre had ordered another glass of wine, and downed most of it in the last ten minutes before her flight started boarding.

Thus the world had taken on a softer light, a slower quality that had loosened Feyre’s shoulders so much that she didn’t even care about the nearby toddler who had been crying for the last half hour, or the strong smell of weed emitting from the woman in front of her, or the enormous man who was standing a little too close to her, smelling of citrus and the sea and—

Feyre whirled around.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded when her eyes met violet ones, the intensity of Rhys’s gaze reminding her of her tipsiness.

“You thought I was going to let you run off to Ireland by yourself?”

Feyre bit her lip, suddenly wishing she hadn’t had that second glass of wine. Rhys was so poised, dressed in his signature black suit, pressed to perfection even after what must have been a long day at work. The shadow of a beard graced the lower half of his face, and his sea salt scent caressed her, pulling her closer. . .

Feyre blinked once. Then twice, reaching an arm out to steady herself against one of the barriers used to corral the boarding line.

Rhys's eyes narrowed. “Are you—drunk?” He asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.

Feyre folded her arms. “I’m not drunk,” she insisted. “I had a two glasses of wine.”

“You can barely stand up straight,” Rhys noted, pocking her shoulder with a finger.

Feyre flashed her palms up at the prosecutor. “I’m fine, see? I was having a perfectly wonderful time until you decided to show up and crash my spontaneous trip to a foreign country.” She didn't mention the wave of relief that was sweeping through her even now, as she realized she wouldn't be leaving the country for the first time all by herself.

“Did you tell Mor and Cassian?” She asked, changing the subject, although the creeping grin on Rhys’s face told her he wouldn't let this go anytime soon.

And for some reason, Feyre didn’t mind that he found her amusing.

Tamlin would have told her she was being unprofessional, would have chastised her for doing something as unsafe as getting a little tipsy in the safety of an airport. Even though he and Lucien drank during their own travels, Tamlin would see Feyre’s unsteadiness as a weakness, something she should only do with him around.

And while Rhys was laughing at her, she didn’t feel . . . judged. Teased, yes, and perhaps a little embarrassed. But not ashamed.

Rhys gave a curt nod. “They’re staying the night in Washington and flying back tomorrow. Weather conditions are awful up there, so no planes, even private ones, are going up until the morning.”

“Will they fly over to meet us?” Feyre asked, falling into step beside Rhys as the line started moving, bringing them closer and closer to the gate.

Rhys shook his head. “If this trip is as short as Tamlin told you it would be, by the time they got to Ireland, they would have to board the plane to come back again.”

“So we’re on our own,” Feyre muttered, allowing the flight attendant to scan her boarding pass.

“We’re on our own,” Rhys echoed as they stepped onto the jetway.

------

It was a very long night. Feyre slept for most of both of their flights, occasionally waking up to turbulence or to use the restroom or eat the snacks the flight attendants provided. Every time she did, Rhys was a solid presence next to her, wide awake and reading through various legal documents on his laptop, his privacy screen preventing her from glimpsing much. If he slept at all, Feyre never saw it.

When they touched down in Dublin, Feyre jolted awake, something soft against her temple. She looked up, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she met Rhys’s stare.

“Sleep well?” Rhys asked, shifting in his seat, the movement jostling her.

She reared back, tearing her forehead from where it had been resting on Rhys’s shoulder. “Yes, I—I did,” she said, sure her cheeks were burning bright red. She had slept on his shoulder. Had probably drooled all over him while he read his professional legal documents and thought of her as a very silly, very impulsive young law student. “Sorry,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

But Rhys only shrugged, folding up his laptop and sliding it into the backpack beneath the seat in front of him. “No need to apologize. I’m positive my shoulder is much more comfortable than the window.”

Feyre huffed out a breath, a grin tugging at her cheek as she thought about just how muscular Rhys's shoulder was—if it was more comfortable than the window, it was only by a margin.

“What time is it?” She asked.

“Dublin time?” Rhys looked at his watch, Feyre’s eyes tracking the flick of his wrist. “About seven am. . . Prythian time? Two am. What time did you say Tamlin’s meeting was?”

“Not until this afternoon—two or three.”

“Plenty of time to find a hotel, then, because someone decided to come all the way over here without a plan,” Rhys said, his fingers gripping her chin lightly for a fleeting moment, his lips pursing as he gazed down at her.

“Come on, Night,” Feyre said, following him from their seats and out into the aisle. “Live a little.”

Feyre regretted those words two hours later, after the only hotel with a vacancy they could find had one room available--with only one bed.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything else? We’ll even take a bed and a pull-out couch,” Feyre pleaded with the receptionist, who was so busy staring as Rhysand that Feyre doubted the woman even heard her question.

“What was it you said to me on the plane, Feyre darling?” Rhys asked, glancing down at her from the corner of his eye, his fingers tapping on the front desk. “Live a little?”

Feyre groaned, exhaustion tugging at her limbs, at her very soul, despite the sleep she had managed to find on the plane. “Fine.” She snatched the keys out of Rhys’s hand and stomped over to the elevator, arms crossed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Rhys offered as Feyre led the way down the hall, her suitcase rattling behind her.

“That’s ridiculous,” Feyre said. “It’s a king bed. Plenty of space.”

What was she saying? No amount of bed space would be enough if she was sharing it with Rhys. He was so . . . all-consuming. Feyre could feel him behind her even now, though she knew he was several feet away.

She unlocked their room, Rhys’s arm sliding above her head to hold the door so she could drag her suitcase inside.

"Thank you," she said quietly, swallowing at the gesture.

Neither of them spoke as they took turns in the bathroom, each taking a quick shower to rinse off the travel. Feyre let Rhys go first, insisting that she had to call her father anyway. But instead of calling, she sat on her side of the bed and thought about what Tamlin would say if he knew she was sharing a hotel room with another man.

Even if her relationship with Tamlin had an expiration date, even if it was over in Feyre’s mind . . . It wasn’t over in Tamlin’s.

Sharing a bed with Rhys, sleeping on his shoulder, flirting with him . . . It was one of the worst betrayals, no matter what Tamlin had or had not done. She knew her boyfriend would be livid if he knew about what she was doing with Rhys. Even if nothing had happened between them, even if Feyre wasn’t sure she felt anything more than sexual attraction for the federal prosecutor who had suddenly turned her entire life upside down... It was wrong.

Even if being with Rhys brought out a side to her that had long been dormant. She spent all of her time with Tamlin and Lucien these days.

How long had it been since she had joked with a new friend? Spent time with someone who shared her interests, her career path? Done something just because she wanted to?

She had booked an international flight without a second thought, for crying out loud.

She had never done something like that before.

And Rhys had followed. With some grumbling, yes, but he hadn’t tried to drag her out of the airport or convince her to change her mind.

And perhaps he cared more about indicting Tamlin than he did about Feyre’s safety, but . . . Feyre couldn’t shake the feeling that Rhys understood just how badly she wanted to see Tamlin pay for his actions. That he understood the guilt that clawed at her in the middle of the night, the guilt that told her she should have seen it, should have recognized that there was something fishy about Tamlin’s business, should have done something long ago to stop it, something that might have prevented what Rhys’s sister had endured…

Feyre was startled out of her spiraling thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door swinging open, Rhysand emerging in nothing but black sweats, his hair still damp from the shower.

Feyre’s mouth went dry.

“I, ah, left my shirt out here,” Rhys offered, crossing the room to his suitcase, every muscle on display.

Feyre bit her lip at the sight of his cheeks, which had turned every-so-slightly pink, before she averted her gaze.

She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing her stuff and shutting the bathroom door behind her.

Tamlin would certainly object to the sight of a shirtless Rhysand.

Feyre took a very, very cold shower.

---

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @riribbonss @tunaababee @acourtofbatboydreams @clockworkgraystairs @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

[unclewaynemunson]

Belated happy birthday to @steviesbicrisis! Your bday post made me think about a steddie pride and prejudice au with a twist so this one's for you :D

(obviously this takes place in a world where gay marriage has always been completely normal. Fuck historic accuracy)

----------

Steve feels his face light up when an all-too-familiar knock sounds through the house; there's only one person in his life who tirelessly drums out the most elaborately ridiculous rhythms on the wood of the door. 

Unsurprisingly, Eddie stumbles inside a moment later. Something is different, though, Steve notices that much right away. His friend doesn't barge into the room to drape himself over the couch like he usually does. Instead, he closes the door behind him and keeps standing still right in front of it.

'I have some news for you,' he says, in a strangely solemn voice.

'Is something wrong?' Steve asks, immediately worried.

'No.' Eddie shakes his head. He smiles, but it's only a weak version of his usual bright grin and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 'No, it's um... It's good news.' He nods, almost as if he's saying that to convince himself, and Steve feels a frown creep onto his own face.

'I'm engaged. To Keith.'

For a few seconds, Steve can do nothing but stare at him.

'Engaged?' he then stupidly repeats.

'Yes.' Eddie nods again.

'To be married?!' Steve asks urgently.

Now, Eddie rolls his eyes. 'Yes of course, Steve, what other kind of engaged is there?'

Steve feels his jaw drop. 'How– Why–'

'Oh for heavens sake, Steve,' Eddie impatiently interrupts his stuttered, unfinished questions. 'There's no earthly reason why I shouldn't accept his hand.'

'But he's – ridiculous!' Steve finally manages to spit out.

And something shifts in Eddie's posture. 'Well, not all of us can afford to be romantic,' he says with a chilly edge to his voice. ‘He's rich, he can give me a comfortable home and a reasonable position in society – I wouldn't dare ask for more.'

'Eddie,' Steve says. He doesn't even know where to start. He wants to tell Eddie exactly how much more he deserves than some gross creep, how he's betraying everything he stands for by marrying Keith, how he's signing for a life devoid of any happiness – but before he can even begin to properly phrase any of those thoughts, Eddie already narrows his eyes at him. He looks at him like a cornered animal, and Steve understands that Eddie interprets his silence not as caring, but as judging, or maybe even pity.

'I am twenty-seven years old,' Eddie says, his voice colored with a kind of forced calmness. 'I have no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my uncle. And I'm frightened. So don't judge me, Steve, don't you dare judge me.' Then, he resolutely turns around and opens the door.

'Eddie, wait,' Steve quickly says.

For a second, it looks like he won't listen, like he will walk away without looking back – but then, he turns his head around, and Steve sees tears glistening in his eyes.

'I – I'm not judging you. I'll respect your choice, even if I don't understand it. Don't cry, please.' He knows it's a useless thing to do, telling people not to cry, but he hates seeing this look on Eddie's face. It makes his hands itch with the desire to hold him.

'I’m just... You caught me off-guard. I didn't know you were interested in marriage all of a sudden.'

'Why does it matter?' Eddie asks with an arched eyebrow. 'Were you planning on asking me if I was?'

And that question, phrased in such a sarcastic way, paired with the defensive look in Eddie's eyes... The insinuation of how truly preposterous that would be feels exactly how Steve would imagine getting stabbed in the heart would feel like.

It makes him realize that he has nothing left to lose. Eddie will walk out of that door – maybe they'll make up, maybe they won't, but their friendship will never be the same as before Eddie got engaged to Keith.

'What would you say if I was?'

Eddie stares at him. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

Steve just stands there, waiting, until the surprise on Eddie's face makes place for something more unreadable.

'Don't be ridiculous now, Steve.'

'Is it truly that much more ridiculous than you marrying Keith?'

'Are you seriously asking me to marry you only to keep me away from Keith?'

'No, I –' Steve pauses; he wishes he would have had time to think about what to say. It feels like his words won't ever be able to do his feelings justice.

'I have loved you for years, Eddie,' he finally admits. 'And if you truly want to marry Keith, I won't try to change your mind. But I can't let you go without telling you the truth.'

Eddie's eyes widen as he lets the words sink in with a shocked look on his face.

'You love me?' he repeats in a slightly raspy voice.

Steve nods, only to be met with more silence, as the clock on the wall ticks away the seconds.

'You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know.'

'Steve... Is this a goddamn proposal or not?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't know?!'

'I mean, it isn't – I don't think it is.’ Steve stumbles through the words. ‘I don't want you to choose me because I'm richer, or – or better-looking than Keith... I only want to marry for love, and I'm not as arrogant to expect you to feel the same way about me.'

'Oh, Steve...' The shock on Eddie's face melts away, softening his features and making the look in his eyes gentler.

'You don't need to pity me.’

'No, no way, I'm not pitying you,' Eddie answers. He takes two big steps towards Steve, wraps his hands around Steve's. They're warm and familiar and making him miss what he can't have even stronger.

'If I had known... Stevie, I would've never said yes to Keith, it's not even close to a competition. If I had known I could have you, all this time... I never even thought I'd stand a chance. You're probably the most perfect person I know, and I'm, well, just Eddie.'

'Oh, we need to work on your self-esteem, baby.' The pet name slips out of Steve's mouth before he can help it, and it brings that beaming bright smile to Eddie's face; the smile that Steve loves so much.

He feels Eddie’s hands slide around his waist and they rest their foreheads together, both breathing shakily, trying desperately not to let their emotions overpower them.

'Does this mean that we're engaged now?' Steve finally manages to ask; his voice is shaking but he needs to hear it. He needs to be sure that he indeed gets to hold the man in front of him for the rest of their lives.

Eddie utters a tearful chuckle. 'I suppose I have another wedding to cancel first.'