#goes perfectly with her beloved green ring

[poirott]

Agatha Christie's Poirot costumes [8/?] ↳ Miss Felicity Lemon's green outfit in 3x02 "How Does Your Garden Grow"

"There have been a lot of comments about the wonderful frocks I got to wear. We had a lot of very good costume supervisors and costume designers. Barbara Kronig was one of the original ones. She worked with the late Sheila Buckland who had an incredible store of vintage frocks, most of which I wore in the series. Sheila was very pleased with me because when the frocks were returned she always used to say she couldn't tell it had been worn. Because I really take care of costume, I'm very particular about that. Sheila was meticulous to a degree, she really was, and I've got the most wonderful shoes to wear as well. The production values were extremely high [on the series]." -- Pauline Moran on the costumes she wore as Miss Lemon, Fantom interview, May 2020

[majadejewelrydesign]

Emerald, the Birthstone of May and Other Stunning Alternatives

Emerald the May Birthstone and Other Beautiful Green Gemstone as Alternative

The traditional birthstone of May is Emerald. The lush green color of this gemstone perfectly describes Spring vibe. Emerald is a stunning stone but also very rare, luckily nowadays people are more acceptable to other green gemstones as alternatives. Read on to found out more!  As a celebration of Spring, though out the month of May we offer a 25% off on all items!

COUPON CODE: EMERALD25

Emerald’s Symbology and Significant in Antiquity

The reason why Emerald was selected to represent the month of May is easy to understand. Emerald’s lush green coincide with the color and vibe of Spring. And for this reason, most green stones especially for Emerald is always associated with rebirth and rejuvenation.

Ancient Egyptian adores Emerald, consider the stone as a symbol for immortality. The Egyptian culture are known for their love of natural gemstone, as evidence in the artifact such as jewelry, ornament and burial items. They have a fondness for gems like lapis lazuli and turquoise, yet the favorite is Emerald. The queen of Egypt Cleopatra is well known for her love of Emerald. Although the legendary “Cleopatra’s Emerald” was never found or rediscovered, records and documents shows the queen does have a special affection for Emerald.

Besides the Egyptians, many ancient civilizations see Emerald as an important stone not just for its beauty, more importantly believe the stone itself held the secret of life. Considered a scared stone by the Incas and Aztecs, in the 16th century Spanish conquistador greed over this mesmerizing stone. Many legends and folklores describe the conflicts over this stone. These includes the mysterious, ever-glowing Emerald in a Tlaxcala temple. Fan of the occult and esoterica are all familiar with Hermes Trismegistus’ work “Emerald Tablet”, considered as the very foundation for alchemy. Some believe the text contains secret to create the philosopher’s stone. According to some legend the text was craved or etched in and giant piece of Emerald block. Seemingly impossible because it would require an Emerald so large, like many subjects in history we most likely will never find the true answer.

One thing can be certain is that Emerald is always treated as the symbol of vitality and growth. A tangible form of lifeforce itself; and thus, makes perfect sense to represent the Spring season of May.

Green Onyx As the “Budget Emerald”

Being one of the rarest minerals on earth, Emerald is one of the highest priced among all gemstones. Luckily there are alternatives. Green Onyx is a popular choice for the color closely resembles Emerald. Also called Green Chalcedony or Green Agate, these are the same stone just goes by different name. Onyx itself is a well know stone cherish by men since antiquity. For example, the Romans use Onyx as cameo (where the word originates), a portrait carved on a piece of gemstone.

Green Onyx are commonly semi-transparent or opaque, unified in green without pattern. In comparison to Emerald’s clear transparency, Green Onyx is slightly different looking yet their color have close resemblance. An affordable stone, Green Onyx is growing more and more popular nowadays.

Malachite’s Beautiful Pattern Loved by the Egyptian

Malachite is a green to dark green opaque stone with marbled pattern. Some culture nickname it “Peacock stone”, since the green hue similar to those of peacock. Malachite is not a traditional birthstone, but just like Emerald also is a stone beloved by the ancient Egyptians; as evident in their jewelry, ornament and even burial items. This stone was so cherished, legend has it that Cleopatra used ground up Malachite and apply the paste as eye shadow. As an important note, do not try this because minerals are not in any way meant to be use as cosmetic.

Like Emerald for its green color, Malachite is seen by the Egyptian as the gemstone for rejuvenation and resurrection. A semi-precious stone which is more commonly found, Malachite is more affordable but stunning in its own way. An entirely different look from Emerald, nowadays is being consider as an alternative May birthstone for the green color also coincide with the lifeful Spring vibe of May.  

Tsavorite as a Younger Version of Emerald

A relatively new addition to the gemstone family. Tsavorite is not discovered until the 1960’s. This gem is an interesting alternative birthstone because the translucent property and green hue resembles Emerald; and yet Tsavorite is actually a rare green form of Garnet, so it is seen as the substitute for January birthstone for those who don’t like the deep red of Garnet. On the other hand, for those who are born in May but prefer a lighter green hue Tsavorite makes a good choice.

In comparison, Emerald processes a deeper shade of green which offers a rich, elite feeling; Tsavorite’s green is in a more saturated and vibrant, looking younger and more fun. Both stunning in its own way, which shade of green to choose is really a matter of personal preference. Being one of the rarest forms of Garnet, a good Tsavorite cost as much as an Emerald so it’s not considered a budget alternative but rather a choice of color variation.

We hope you learn more about May birthstone and the choices. Let’s celebrate Spring with a shade of lush green! Take this opportunity and enjoy 25% off on all items though out the month of May.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Modern Laurie Lawrence Ideas:

a/n: as usual, if anyone wants more of this au or anything else, requests are open!

he grew up rich, still lives a rich lifestyle after graduating

his way of life is still a little immature

he goes to parties and drinks and gambles away

but he’s always at class and is an excellent student

(yeah, sometimes he’s a little a lot hungover and you make sure to make fun of him for it, while also giving him your coffee and an advil)

he first meets you when you’re studying and reading at a park on your campus at paris

you’re taking your college travel year in france, studying at university of paris

he’s there for school too, studying literature and art

he sees you while he’s taking a walk with Amy

you’re sitting on a green park bench, notebooks and backpack scattered across the bench. your back is to him, but he can tell you’re beautiful

it takes a little encouragement for him to go and talk to you, mostly by Amy.

he’s nervous when he talks to you, which isn’t normal for him

but of course he has no need to be, because you’re absolutely enchanted by him

he’s smart and funny and he’s obviously as helpless of a romantic as you are

for your first date he takes you to a cute fondue place

he picks you up with flowers, dressed in a nice shirt and jacket. you two walk together over there, talking the whole way

it was a little awkward when you sit down at first because there’s that “oh shit this is a real date” moment” but it’s quick to pass when you foe get back into your before banter

after that you two start seeing each other a lot

you didn’t even realize that you have the same professor for literature, and you can walk the same way sometimes to classes

you love going over to his apartment

it’s the first place he’s been able to call solely his own away from his grandfather

it’s perfectly messy and inconsistently decorated with whatever he finds

there are pages of music on the floor, the wall is covered in taped up art, there’s a pile of soft blankets in the corner

it’s a safe place for the both of you, being incredibly intimate for him and you respect that

he loves it when you sit in the widow together with your head in his lap, him writing poetry and you reading

his hands will play with your hair mindlessly sometimes, twirling the ends

he’s a little old fashioned with his pet names

love, darling, sweetheart, dearest, angel, beloved

his favorite is simply “flower”

he just thinks you’re really pretty like a flower, okay?

he blushes. so much when you call him the same pet names even though it’s his second nature to call you then

it’s so special to him to have you there to treat him like he’s important

of course he had the girls to do that growing up but they’re not always around anymore

Amy’s been there most of the time throughout your relationship

she’s so supportive and she loves seeing you two together no matter how much she makes fun of you for it

you never really talk about what happened with Jo, but you don’t judge and aren’t jelous

he still wears her ring and you think it’s adorable because they’re still besties at this point

omg

he gives the best gifts

they’re always super thoughtful and meaningful within the relationship

like buying you a record cover to put on the wall for the album he suggested you listen to the first time you went over to his apartment. y’all danced together in the living room in your socks.

or like getting you a little booklet to keep all of the plane, concert, and movie tickets you collect, along with random scraps of things you love

he writes so many poems for you

cute, sappy, adorable poems

he still writes letters

cause he likes the aesthetic of them

him and no have been writing them back and fourth forever

he tells her all about you and she always sends you stories she’ll think you’ll like based on how she knows you

he also writes you letters even though you see each other all the time

he sends pressed flowers and little poem scraps he finds and/or writes

the two of your travel a lot, his grandfather happy to oblige to make him happy

so you go to venice where he gets you stained glass and verona where he buys you a copy of romeo and juliet.

but your absolute favorite was lake como

it’s stunning, the water is so so so blue, the hotel is stunning and delicately decorated, the streets are narrow and crooked and crowded with painted doors

he takes you sailing and you lay by the pool all day and read

by the end there are so many pictures of you on his phone

he’s just really really sweet and loving and romantic

[teacupfulofstarshine]

in little ways

summary: "a single act of love makes the soul return to life." - saint maximillian kolbe (OR: soft moments in the relationship of patton, remus, and virgil, as a birthday gift for the lovely @bumblebeekitten​)

a/n: HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEE!!! i give you intrumoxiety being soft little shits 

CW: shedding of skin (akin to a snake), nightmare mention, bones, one (1) innuendo, nonsexual nudity

wordcount: 2.7k

ao3 link

“Babe? What - are you doing?” 

Virgil, who is busy trying to plan out the best way to strategically approach a nest of wild sirens in the middle of molt to gather their discarded feathers, opens their mouth to reply, and then the low rumbling baritone of their newest lover hits their ears. 

“I . . . you’ll laugh at me if I tell you.” 

Virgil’s one-of-my-loves-is-on-some-self-deprecating-bullshit-and-requires-reassurance, which they take pride in having almost as fine-tuned as Patton’s, begins klaxon-blaring in their mind. They mark their page and carefully untangle themselves from the web of work they’ve been doing and head into the other room. 

Patton is sitting on the kitchen table, swinging (Virgil narrows his eyes at the colored orb charm hanging around Patton’s neck) her legs back and forth, and Remus is standing in front of her, blushing. She has a small wreath of white things in her hair - are those bones? - with a bright jewel studded over her forehead. Remus is holding more small white things in his hands, claw-tipped fingers curled so delicately to avoid shattering them. 

“You - I just -”

“Honey, I promise I’m not gonna laugh at you, no matter what,” Patton says. She reaches forward, assortment of rings glinting and clinking as she touches Remus’s face. He lets out a soft rumbly noise and turns his cheek to press into the touch more, gently rubbing his nose against her palm. “We all do stuff that other people think is weird. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

Remus flicks his eyes up to look at Virgil, who slow-blinks at him in the clearest nonverbal communication of I love you, you massive idiot they can give. “I . . . uh . . . it’s a weird dragon thing.” 

“Re, we’re not gonna be species-ist towards you, that would be super mean and also stupid, considering that no one in this house is human or cisgender,” Virgil says. Remus smiles, hesitant, and then exhales out a puff of gray-black smoke. 

“It’s . . . a claiming thing. When dragons get serious about courtships, they . . . combine hoards a little? They’ll pick out choice pieces from their hoards and exchange them. So, by me putting pieces of my bone hoard on you, it’s like . . . me saying that I’m serious about this, and I want it to last.” Virgil reaches out and takes Remus’s hand, not reacting at all when their skin hisses and steams against his. The benefits of having a partner who’s half ice nymph and half selkie, they suppose. 

“Don’t I get any bones?” they tease. Remus waggles his eyebrows at them; they promptly drop his hand and smack his shoulder. “Not like that, dirty dragon.” 

“Yeah, it’s not fair for only one of us to get fancy bones!” Patton says. “Although I certainly do appreciate this . . . tiara? I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s a tiara.” 

“It was supposed to be,” Remus says, kicking the floor. “I got Ro to help me with pickin’ out the gems and stuff. That’s part of what he hoards, so we went and looked for them together. He told me that one’s a moonstone, and I thought, y’know, werewolf, perfect, right? And - and I’m working on something for you, Virge, I just didn’t wanna find anything that screamed VEE to me on that trip, y’know?” 

“Well, I absolutely love it,” Patton coos, leaning forward to kiss Remus. “Thank you for the tiara, sweetie!” She pauses. “You cleaned these, right?” 

Remus laughs, deep and echoing, and something inside of Virgil uncoils. 

*~*~*~*~*

Their skin itches and burns, and someone in front of them is setting their sealskin on fire, and they can hear Patton screaming high and frantic and Remus roaring deep and feral but they can’t move, they’re screaming, convulsing as they burn up with their sealskin and then then then then then -

“Virgil!” 

They sit upright, ice flooding around them, and a dark shape looms in the distance and they fling their hand out to cast a massive shard of ice through the heart of their night terror, but the night terror opens its mouth and green fire rolls out like a current, licking along the ice and dissolving it into water without burning anything else. “Virgil,” the night terrors says, and why does Virgil know that voice? 

“Virgil,” the voice repeats, lower, and then again, and every time it repeats their name it drops lower and lower until they aren’t so much hearing their name as they are feeling it reverberate in their heaving chest. 

The night terror tips its head back and exhales a jet of flames towards the ceiling. It catches on a saucer of oil, spreading down troughs to ignite other saucers spread around the ceiling, and the night terror looks down with fire licking around its teeth and oh, that’s not a night terror at all, it’s Remus. His leathery wings are awkwardly stuck together behind him like he’d just woken up, his hands are up like he’s warding off an attack. 

“R - Rem?” 

BELOVED, he rumbles, mouth barely moving. Virgil sways a little under the force, blinking as Remus thumps at his chest a little with one hand. ARE YOU WELL?  

“I . . . nightmare,” they manage. “Hunters. Hurt you, hurt Patty, stole my skin . . .”

Remus takes a step forward, then another. MAY I APPROACH? Virgil is pretty sure he’s actually speaking Dracon, which would explain the oddly formal address and grammar. They nod, too out of it to speak more, and Remus carefully climbs onto the ice-covered bed. He opens his arms, and they collapse into his chest, shaking. 

“Patty?” 

ON A NIGHT HUNT WITH HIS PACK, BELOVED. HE WILL RETURN ON THE MORN.  

“Oh . . . did I hurt you?”

NO, BELOVED. HOW ELSE MAY I COMFORT YOU?

“My . . . my skin?” 

Remus scoops them up into his arms, easily navigating the iced-over bedroom floor and taking them down into the basement. He exhales a plume of blue-green fire into the magical lock, and Virgil leans forward as the door spins and swirls open. The hoard room is full of perfectly-articulated skeletons, bones in cleaning vats, and the other treasures that Remus collects. He navigates through the piles skillfully until he reaches a dark wooden chest with an intricate sapphire-and-golden inlay on the top. 

YOUR KEY, BELOVED?  

Virgil traces a sigil across the chest, and it glows under their touch. The array lights up with a brilliant violet aura, and the chest pops open. They reach into the chest hurriedly, panic when they don’t feel fur, and then slide their fingers across to the latch that opens the false bottom. They flip open the false bottom and pull out their sealskin, pressing their face into the softness. 

Their sealskin is beautiful. It’s black as pitch, studded with flecks of silver and white. Remus hugs them against his chest as they rub their cheek against the fur and inhale the scent of the sea. Remus rumbles underneath them, gently rubbing his face along their hair and neck to gently scent him. 

“Thanks,” Virgil says, nearly twenty minutes later, sealskin draped around them like a blanket. “I . . . sorry I woke you.” 

“It’s alright,” Remus says, voice hoarse and growly. “I don’t mind. It’s kinda hot when you go batshit, even though I wish you hadn’t had a nightmare.” Virgil snorts, shoving at his chest. 

“I can’t believe you slipped into Dracon.” Remus ducks his head in embarrassment. 

“Yeah . . . it . . . lots of dragon moms do it to try and soothe rowdy hatchlings back to sleep. I didn’t realize I was doing it until my larynx dropped, and once it goes that far down it takes a while to relax my muscles enough to release it back to normal.” 

“I like it,” Virgil murmurs, leaning up to kiss him. “It’s . . . nice.” 

Remus rumbles with pleasure and kisses them back.

*~*~*~*~*

“Patton, what are you doing?” 

Patton is staring out the window, eyes narrowed, mouth set in a thin line of displeasure. Virgil pauses, arms full of books and random spell components. “I don’t trust that woman.” 

“What? What woman?” 

Virgil follows their gaze down to the end of the walkway leading up to their cottage, all the way to the woman at their mailbox. “Patton, what -”

“I don’t trust her,” they mutter, ears pinning back in their fluffy hair. 

“Patton, she’s the mailwoman. Debra’s been coming here every day for the past seven years.”

“Suspicious.” 

“It is literally the opposite of suspicious, you ridiculous werewolf.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“Poor baby,” Patton croons, pulling on thick rubber gloves and tying her hair up out of the way. Remus whines, rolling around the kitchen buck-naked. His body is almost completely covered in thick, glistening scales, with few patches of human skin peeking through.

“Why are you naked?” Virgil asks. 

“Shedding season,” Remus moans, swiping irritably at his torso. A thick sheet of scales flakes to the ground, and Virgil picks it up. “You can have whatever scales come off if you help me, it itches so baaaaaad!” 

Virgil looks at Patton, who’s carrying a bucket of magic salts and a scrub brush towards the bathroom. “You got a spare brush and gloves, Patty?” 

“Under the sink!” Virgil is quick to grab the supplies. When they return, Remus is still rolling around the kitchen floor, and Patton is prodding him with her foot. 

“Babe, if you don’t get into the tub, I can’t help you feel better. Your dad sent the special salts that your family uses during sheds from the sea caves near your family home.”

“Papa sent them?” Remus’s eyes are wide and liquid, and he almost looks like a hatchling. Virgil bends down and brushes his sweaty hair off his forehead. 

“Yeah, Reem. We asked him for the salts and the lotion so that you’d be more comfortable the next time you shed your scales. We know how much you hate the feeling, and we want you to be comfor - mmph!” 

Remus grabs the front of their shirt and drags them down into a kiss, brief and passionate. Virgil leans back, mussed and flustered, and Patton leans down and drops a kiss into their hair. “Let’s get you into the bath, mister.” 

They finally manage to get Remus into the hot bath, and the moan he lets out when Patton tips the salt into the water is positively lewd. Virgil tugs on the thick gloves and picks up their scrub brush. “I’ll take the left, you take the right?” Patton nods, picking up her rough sponge, and they get to work. 

Virgil puts their back into the scrubbing, careful around Remus’s newly healed top surgery scars. They create a transport sigil next to them and pass any large sheets of scales that flake off of Remus through it, sending them to their work desk. Remus wriggles around in the hot water, making it difficult to scrub, but finally his skin is clear and red-pink from scrubbing and the heat. 

Remus flops gracefully onto the bed, sighing in relief as he rolls around the soft comforter. Patton pulls off her gloves and picks up a tub of thick, pink goop. “Alright, buddy, it’s time for the lotion.” 

“You guys don’t have to do all this,” Remus mumbles, sleepy from his bath. “I know it’s kinda gross.” 

“We love you, Remus. It’s no trouble,” Patton says, gently stroking his hair. 

“Of course it’s not,” Virgil adds. Remus lets out a low, pleased rumble, and Virgil kisses Patton softly.

*~*~*~*~*

“VIRGIL! Virgil, Virgil, Virgil Virgil VirgilVirgil VirgilVirgil VIRGIL!!!!!” 

Virgil, whose name is sounding more and more like gibberish, even to their own ears, looks up from the sigil they’re constructing to see Remus bouncing eagerly in front of them. “Learn something new?” 

“Yeah! Patton’s at the grocery store, can I infodump to you?” 

Virgil looks down at the array they’re working on. “Give me two minutes to make sure this sigil won’t explode if I leave it alone, okay? Then you can talk all you want.” Remus nods, sitting down next to them. He’s practically vibrating with happy energy - flapping his hand, tapping his feet, snapping his fingers, rocking and humming. Virgil quickly changes a few of the components of their array, pulls their power out of it, and writes down where they were so they can pick their work up later. “Okay, Remus. Go ahead.” 

Remus jumps to his feet and begins pacing around the living room, telling Virgil all about the new deadly creature he’s discovered, and Virgil watches him fondly, smiling. 

*~*~*~*~*

“You know how Pat has his bone tiara?” 

“Yeah?” 

Remus reaches into the pouch at his waist and offers something to Virgil. “For you!” Virgil takes the token from his hands, gasping when it comes into view. It’s a necklace with a braided leather cord and a dangling pendant. The pendant is painstakingly constructed of dozens of tiny bones, all arranged and articulated to form an ornate snowflake. In the very center is a gleaming piece of icy pale blue-green topaz, carved into a hexagonal facet. 

“You . . . you made this?” 

“Yep! I - do you not like it?” 

Virgil stares at the necklace, running their fingers over the edges of the snowflake and the ice-cold smoothness of the gem. They slip the pendant over their head with trembling fingers before dragging Remus into a kiss. “Bedroom, now.” 

“As you wish,” Remus purrs, scooping them into his arms. 

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil tightens their grip on the strap of their messenger bag as the gates swing open, revealing a tall, imposing figure. Half of his face is covered in glittering golden-green scales, and one eye is a golden brown with a slitted pupil; the other is dark brown, almost black. He wears a long-sleeved golden dress that falls to the floor, intricately embroidered with dragons and flames along the hem, and his wings are fanned loosely around him. 

“Papa!” Remus crows, sprinting up and leaping towards the figure. He catches him, managing to make it look elegant as he hugs Remus close and rubs his back with a small smile. Remus and his father press their foreheads together, rumbling softly, before Remus hops down. “Virgey, Patton, this is my papa! Papa, these are my loves!” 

Virgil flushes, seeing Patton go pale pink beside them, as Remus’s father comes forward and extends a hand. “You may call me Janus. It is a pleasure to formally meet you. My son speaks quite highly of you.” 

Virgil shakes his hand. “The pleasure is all ours, sir. Thank you for letting us use the private beach on your estate.” Janus smiles as he shakes Patton’s hand. 

“Anyone so highly beloved of my son is always welcome on our family’s ancestral home.” His eyes linger on the bone tiara and pendant before turning to Remus and asking him a low, rapidfire question in a tongue Virgil doesn’t speak. Remus turns redder than Virgil’s ever seen him and spits back a swift response, and Janus laughs. 

“The path to the beach is that way. When you are done, I will have a meal prepared in the house. Take your time. The weather will be favorable today.” 

Remus grabs their hands and drags them down towards the sea. “What did your dad say to you?” 

“He’s just being embarrassing,” Remus mutters. 

“Must have been serious if it embarrassed you,” Patton teases. 

“Shut up!” 

They crest the cliff and spot the sea, and all of Virgil’s teasing leaves them in one breath. It’s beautiful, and the longer they stare at it and smell the salt water, the stronger the call of the ocean in their bones. 

Remus goes flying down the stairs, dropping his bag in the sand and shedding all of his clothes to reveal a lime green speedo. Patton takes a little more care, spreading out the towels and setting up the umbrella, before carefully taking off their tiara and clothes and transforming into a wolf with a fluid, rippling motion. They leap into the water as Virgil descends to the beach. They set down their bag, strip down, and carefully tuck their pendant in a pocket of their bag before reaching in and pulling out their sealskin. They take a moment to watch the way the sun glitters on the ocean’s surface, listening to the crash of the waves and the call of the gulls and the shrieking laughter of Remus and Patton’s joyful barks. 

Then, they wrap their sealskin around their shoulders and join their loves in the sea. 

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (48) Wedding

Ao3 | FF.net

“Nervous?”

Marinette sat in a chair, facing a mirror as Jillian curled her hair. Alya sat arms length away, almost beaming. 

The enchanting dress hung on a hook in the middle of the room, slightly glowing from the sunlight pouring in the windows. 

“Not really, no.” Marinette answered with a smile. “I thought I’d be shaking…but really, if everything goes wrong today, it will still be better than the first one.” 

“Nothing is going to go wrong, girl. We’ve got this thing planned down to the very last detail. Chloe’s got everything on lockdown, down to the very last T. All you have to do is smile, give your vows, smooch your man, and then relax! Piece of cake!”

“Like I said, I’m not even nervous. This is our day.”

Giverny. A tiny little village in the region of Normandy, in Northern France. Here, Claude Monet had his chateau and his garden. Here in May, the flowers were blooming and bursting with colors, the willows draped their weeping curtains down to create walls of green, and secluded rooms in nature. The tulips and irises dotted the landscape with pinks and purples, flocked with white and mauve wisteria. 

The cottage Marinette and Alya were getting ready in was no great estate, but a country getaway that was nestled in the heart of beauty. The stone walls were decorated with creeping vines, camouflaging the building into the wilds. 

And outside, under the catalpa tree, Adrien would be waiting, along with a handful of friends and relatives. Just those that they truly wanted there. Sure, the whole city wanted to watch, they wanted to see the resolution, see their heroes happy, so a live stream was set up. It would last for the ceremony, and then be over just in time for them to enjoy their privacy. 

Sabine zipped the dress up, hiding Marinette’s scars in the white and pink lace. 

She turned around, twirling her skirts in the mirror, watching the gold thread flicker in the light, and just admiring how pretty she looked. 

“You look like a princess,” Alya beamed, tears in her eyes. “You deserve this so much.”

Marinette’s own face almost hurt from smiling, she was so happy. “I think I’m ready.” 

“Papa’s waiting just outside.” Sabine handed her the bouquet. “He’s probably going to cry when he sees you!” 

“Tom or Adrien?” Asked Alya. 

“Both!” 

Marinette was led out of the cottage, and met her father, Gabriel, and Emilie on the back steps. The aisle to the altar was obscured by a sheer linen curtain. No one had seen her yet.

Except for her father, who lit up at the sight of her. 

And then began to cry. 

“Look at you! What a beautiful girl…I haven’t seen a bride so beautiful since your mother.” He sniffled. 

Marinette embraced him. “Thank you, papa.”

He kissed her cheek. “Are you ready, love?”

“Yes.” 

Nino held his arm out for Alya, beaming at Marinette with tears in his eyes too. “You look amazing Mari.” 

“Thank you, Nino.” 

“And what about me?” Alya chastised her boyfriend. 

“Oh, you look drop dead gorgeous, my darling.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Alya turned and sent a wink back to Marinette. 

“Adrien is certainly a lucky man,” Said Gabriel, with a soft fondness not often heard from the cold man. “That dress suits you perfectly. But of course, it’s not the dress that makes the bride, it’s the bride that makes the dress.” 

“Thank you, Gabriel. I really love it.” 

Emilie looked about two seconds away from outright sobbing. “I’m so happy for you both! I promise these are happy tears!”

Marinette chuckled. “I understand completely.” 

The processional music started up. 

“That’s our cue.” Gabriel held his other arm out for Sabine, and he walked her and his wife down the aisle. 

“See you at the end,” Alya winked, before walking with Nino down to the altar. 

Marinette took a soothing breath as her father gathered her close with his arm. “My little girl. The light of my life, and my personal hero.” 

“Papa…” she chastised, emotion welling up in her voice. He was not going to render her a blubbering mess before she got to the altar. 

“I know, I know. I just…I love you so much. I’m so so proud of you. Every time I look at you, as you or Ladybug, I just feel like I’m going to burst with pride. I want to shout from the rooftops, ‘that’s my beautiful daughter! I made that!’” He smoothed a little patch of hair next to her temple. “And I just know you’re only going to be greater from here on out.”

She closed her eyes as the tears pricked behind her lids. This felt right. Having her dad here, this felt proper. This was missing the first time around, and really all she wanted. 

“Ready?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” She nodded.

Now, her nerves started to tickle at her stomach, right before the curtain could move.

Before she saw him. 

But then the white was swept away, and there was Adrien. Staring at her, mouth open, eyes wide. Before his mouth quaked and his eyes became sparkly.

 Her vision blurred for a moment. He looked so completely and utterly happy, she almost sobbed. 

Instead, she tripped. 

Landing on her knee. 

“Are you okay?” Her father asked, quickly hauling her back to her feet. 

Marinette laughed. “I’m fine! I’m fine! I would trip on my wedding day!” She glanced down at her skirt. “No stains, no rips, everything’s fine!” 

There was a collective sigh of relief, as Tom held out his arm again and escorted her to the end of the aisle. 

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Of course there was only silence for a moment, before the officiant moved on.

“Who gives his girl to be married?”

“Her mother and I do,” said Tom. 

Marinette unhooked her father’s arm, gave her bouquet to Alya, and then took Adrien’s hands. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, barely containing his joy. 

“And you’re really handsome,” she whispered right back. 

The officiant smiled at them both. “Never thought you’d see the day, hmm?”

Adrien just squeezed her hand. 

“Please bow your heads in prayer.” 

Heavenly father, as we enter into your presence, I pray for your blessing upon this couple and their marriage. I pray that you uphold them in your righteous right hand. That you offer your protection and shelter in times of difficulty, that you offer them rest when the past comes back to haunt them. I pray that love only blooms more brightly and more beautiful everyday in their marriage. That their love will be a testament to strength in adversity, and that they continue to have and to hold each other in every trial they face. Amen.    

Adrien’s thumb brushed over Marinette’s knuckles, rounding the edge of her engagement ring. 

“Just like the solemn vow you both took to protect Paris, so too, are you now vowing to be joined together. Though the first time your names were joined on paper, this now, you both are coming into willingly. The commitment to your partnership you have held over the years is only a glimmer of the promise you make to each other today. Though it is similar, it is not the same. There is no taking off a costume in a marriage. You don’t go home alone at night after you’ve fulfilled your duty. There are no days off. This is a full time commitment. But it is not one you enter in alone. You have a partner, one you can lean on in your hard days, and one you must support in your own way. As a rope with three cords is not easily broken, so are we stronger together. When you work as a team, there’s nothing you can’t accomplish, as you already know. There’s a lifetime of laughter and joy waiting for you, and it’s yours for the taking. Only if you are willing to take the bad with the good. And with what you’ve both been through together, I think you know what I mean.

“Adrien, there will be days when Marinette struggles. She will have sorrow, anxiety, and pain. You must wrap her in your arms and be willing to listen and help, even if you just need to lend an ear.

“Marinette, there will be days where Adrien becomes angry and frustrated, you need to be the one to offer support, whether it's help, a hug, or space. As you grow older, you will learn what each other needs. To grow and change is to be human, to learn and love is to be a spouse.

“That being said, Adrien, do you take Marinette to be your lawful wedded wife?”

Adrien nodded, speaking more seriously than he ever had in his life. “I do.” 

“And Marinette, do you take Adrien to be your awfully—pardon me, lawfully wedded husband?”  

Marinette smiled off the slip up. “I do.”

“In the spirit of the importance of strong friendships to a marriage, Marinette and Adrien have asked two friends to read selections about love that especially resonate with them.” 

Alya delivered her words of wisdom clearly and with passion.

“The truest love that ever heart

Felt at its kindled core,

Did through each vein, in quickened start,

The tide of being pour.

"Her coming was my hope each day,

Her parting was my pain;

The chance that did her steps delay

Was ice in every vein.

"I dreamed it would be nameless bliss,

As I loved, loved to be;

And to this object did I press

As blind as eagerly.

"But wide as pathless was the space

That lay our lives between,

And dangerous as the foamy race

Of ocean-surges green.

"My love has placed her little hand

With noble faith in mine,

And vowed that wedlock's sacred band

Our nature shall entwine.

"My love has sworn, with sealing kiss,

With me to live -- to die;

I have at last my nameless bliss.

As I love -- loved am I!"

Nino stepped up next, taking the note cards out of his tux pocket and trembling like a leaf. “This excerpt is from Adrien’s favorite book, the Princess Bride.” He cleared his throat. “I have stayed these years in my hovel because of you. I have taught myself languages because of you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids.” Despite the occasional stutter, Nino delivered the reading beautifully and beamed after he was finished. 

The officiant spoke again. “Two people in love do not live in isolation. Their love is a source of strength with which they may nourish not only each other but also the world around them. And in turn, we, their community of friends and family, have a responsibility to this couple. By our steadfast care, respect, and love, we can support their marriage and the new family they are creating today.

“Will everyone please rise. Will you who are present today, surround Marinette and Adrien in love, offering them the joys of your friendship, and supporting them in their marriage?

The assembled all spoke unanimously. “We will.”

“You may be seated.”

After everyone settled, the officiant continued. “Adrien and Marinette have decided to write their own vows, and present them to each other now. Adrien, if you would?”

Adrien smiled at his bride, taking a stack of index cards out of his pocket. He cleared his throat. “This speech isn’t actually as long as it looks.” 

There were a few giggles from the crowd. 

“My Lady. My beautiful, kind, strong, wonderful lady. I’ve dreamt of this day since the moment we met. Since you got me wrapped up in your yo-yo, I knew I was wrapped around your finger, and you could make me do anything you wanted. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Even as Marinette, I found myself drawn to you, and eager to spend time with you and help you with whatever you wanted. It’s as if my heart already knew who you were, and my brain just needed the time to catch up. I wrote a list of all the things I love about you, and once I knew who you were, I went through and looked, almost all of them pertained to Marinette too.” He unfurled the stack of cards in his hand, having taped them together. They unfolded into a long list that hit the floor and went off a little ways. “The only ones that didn’t were…” he scooted the list up a bit. “Mysterious allure, and…graceful dismounts.” 

Marinette laughed at him, feigning annoyance. 

“You’re perfect to me, my lady. Even after all that we’ve been through, you’re still perfect. I would be the luckiest man in the world to have you standing next to me for the rest of our lives. And I promise, with all of my heart, I will never let something like we endured happen again. You will be safe with me. You’ll have everything you could ever want, and I will lavish you with love every minute of every day. You may get annoyed after awhile.”

Marinette tittered, pulling a hand away to wipe at her eye. 

“Marinette, I promise to cherish you always, to honor and sustain you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you in all things until death alone shall part us.”

Marinette took a shuddering breath. “I love you.” 

“Is that your vow?”

“No,” she giggled. She turned to Alya. 

Alya’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh girl! I left your notes in the cottage! I’ll go get them!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marinette smiled. “I practiced this enough, I should have it memorized now.” She squeezed Adrien’s hands. “My darling kitty. My best friend and love of my life. To stand up here with you feels like a dream come true. Teenage Marinette would have been ecstatic to be getting married to Adrien, but to find out that you are also Chat Noir makes me the luckiest girl in the world. When we were captured, and she-who-shall-not-be-named took your Miraculous, and your suit faded away, I was honestly relieved. I was terrified for us, for you, for our safety, but I was so glad that I was with you. I knew my sanity would survive with you with me. That month in isolation without you felt like a month without breathing. A month without water. Because you are everything to me, and all I need is you. I’m ready to stand beside you as your wife, to give you myself as I am, flaws and all, as long as I can have all of you, bad puns and all.”

“Hey!” He beamed. 

“Adrien, the first time we escaped, when we did it on our own…do you remember that moment in the hallway? You were held by the ankle, and you told me to take the Miraculous and run. And I did. But letting go of your hand in that moment was the most painful thing I ever had to do. I felt like part of my soul was being ripped away from me. I cried the whole time I stumbled through the catacombs, just missing you and so full of fear. I never want to be without you, never for the rest of my life. So please have me, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poor, until death only shall we part.”

Adrien raised his hand to wipe the tear from her eye, and leaned in, prepared to kiss her, but held back, since they weren’t at that part yet.

“Marinette and Adrien will now exchange rings as a symbol of love and commitment to each other. Rings are a precious metal; they are also made precious by you wearing them. Your wedding rings are special; they enhance who you are. They mark the beginning of your long journey together. Your wedding ring is a circle—a symbol of love never ending. It is the seal of the vows you have just taken to love each other without end.

“Adrien, please place the ring on Marinette’s left hand and repeat after me:

As a sign of my love

That I have chosen you

Above all else

With this ring, I thee wed.

The ring sat right over the engagement ring, a rose gold band to match. The bands were a little loose, but Marinette assured everyone she was still gaining weight to get back to her normal size. 

“And Marinette, please place the ring on Adrien’s left hand and repeat after me:

As a sign of my love

That I have chosen you

Above all else

With this ring, I thee wed.”

Marinette placed the rose gold band on the opposite hand from his Miraculous, his wedding band thinner than the other. 

“Before these witnesses, you have pledged to be joined in marriage. You have now sealed this pledge with your wedding rings. By the authority vested in me by the city of Giverny, I now pronounce you man and wife! Adrien, you may kiss your bride.” 

“Don’t mind if I do!” He took her into his arms, spun her into a dip, and kissed her. Deeply, with passion, and with unanimous cheer in the background. 

“Don’t drop me,” she whispered as he pulled away. 

“Never, my wife.” He righted her on her feet.

“I present, Mr. and Mrs. Adrien Dupain-Cheng—excuse me! Mr. and Mrs. Adrien Agreste!”

Laughing, they walked together back down the aisle.

—

The reception was in a tent just the opposite side of the yard from the ceremony. A little tea party garden like in Alice in Wonderland. A dance floor was set up in the center, with long king’s tables set up around it. 

Marinette and Adrien sat a sweethearts table up front, sharing a little settee. Soft vintage music played, creating a warm, friendly feeling, like one gets in the big city at Christmas time. The food was excellent, as was the Champagne Gabriel had picked out. 

Speaking of Gabriel…

The sharp ping of a knife on a glass cut through the conversation, and the man stood. “Thank you all for coming here. It’s vitally important that my kids are surrounded by people who love them unconditionally on such a momentous occasion. Adrien and Marinette, I have gone through a lot in my life. A lot of trials and tribulations. And without family, I may not have made it through them. You had each other, in the catacombs, and so you will have each other for the rest of your lives. But more than that, you have us. You’ve gained another set of parents. Another pillar of support in times to come. Another pair of cheerleaders in time of joy. And while I know I haven’t been the most open or understanding the last few years…” He took a huge sigh, and then looked them both in the eyes. “The pride and love I feel for both of you, is immeasurable. I’m so happy you found each other.” 

When Gabriel stood, Marinette felt a flicker of doubt in the pit of her stomach, but now she just glowed in the glory and bliss of being a newlywed. Today was for her, for them, for their love. 

Adrien didn’t resist pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

When it came time to dance, Adrien offered his new wife, officially, a hand. “A dance, my lady?”

“I would be delighted.” 

“Technically not our first dance…”

“But I’m counting this one, because we’re surrounded by people we love and not a bunch of snobby rich people.” 

“Of course, my love.” 

Let me be your wings

Let me be your only love

Let me take you far beyond the stars

“Today was perfect.” 

“Marinette, I could have married you in the back alley by a dumpster, surrounded by feral raccoons, and it still would have been perfect.” 

“Would they be cute raccoons? With little bow ties?”

“Yes dear, little raccoon sized bow ties.” 

“Then yes, it would have been perfect.” 

Let me be your wings

Let me lift you high above

Everything we're dreaming of will soon be ours.

“Did you really write a list of everything you love about me?” She asked. 

“Of course. Plagg doubted that what I was feeling was love and not just admiration. I had a point to prove.”

“And that whole list you had…was filled out?”

“Front and back. But there’s probably repeats. I think I mentioned your bluebell eyes at least four times.” 

“It doesn’t count if you repeat it!” 

“It just means I quadruple my love for it!” 

Anything that you desire,

Anything at all.

Everyday I'll take you higher

And I'll never let you fall.

“Are you upset that we’re not going away on a honeymoon?” Adrien asked.

“No. I understand your father’s fears, and I agree with him. We are doing really good…but I don’t know if I’m ready for a trip on our own.”

“I’ll take care of you. You know that.” 

“Are you well enough?”

“Most days…” 

“It’s okay. We’ll go soon.” 

Let me be your wings

Leave behind the world you know

For another world of wondrous things.

We'll see the universe and dance on Saturn's rings.

Fly with me and I will be your wings.

“Adrien, tonight we’re supposed to…” 

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Marinette.”

“But…I don’t…love my body. Not yet. I’m sorry, I should have told you before this.”

He hushed her. “My Lady, when you’re ready, you let me know. I can wait. I want you to be happy and comfortable.” 

“Thank you, My Prince.”

Anything that you desire,

Anything at all.

Everyday I'll take you higher

And I'll never let you fall.

“They did a really good job bringing your wedding book to life in a few months.” 

“Oh, I think we’re just special.” She laughed. 

“Oh?”

“Go to any vendor in Paris, and ask if they’ll tend to Ladybug and Chat Noir’s wedding, I’m sure they’d jump on it!”

“Oh duh, you’re right, as always. Still, this cottage is a little too perfect, don’t you think?”

“It feels like a dream.”

“The best dream, one I never want to wake up from.”

Let me be your wings

(You will be my only love)

Get ready for a world of wondrous things

(Wondrous things are sure to happen)

We'll see the universe and dance on Saturn's rings.

Marinette rested her head on Adrien’s collar bone, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. His own hands rested on her waist, holding her just far apart that he didn’t step on her skirt. And that’s how they danced. Just enjoying the smell of the other, the warmth, the comfort and softness. Of loving and being loved in return. 

The brands on their hands didn’t hurt anymore.

Heaven isn't too far.

Heaven is where you are,

Stay with me and let me be your wings.

[blue-orb]

Wallace Cup 2021

     Music here: [x]

Like all good storms, there is a calm. 

 The stage has been set in a classic Hoenn fashion; seats, thousands of them, surrounding an inset circle. The smell of seawater fills the room, matched to the layer several centimeters thick on the stage, briney and soft and loved by so many. A platform, made roughly of rope and beeswax and wood, floats where it is tied to a post on one edge of the stage. 

There’s a curious group of people in the audience above that dock. A hundred or so sun-loved men and women, each donning either a bandana or a scrap of blue fabric wrapped around their arm, hold signs and praise aloft in the air. There’s a prevailing symbol, the distinct A known to them as the symbol of the Aogiri family; but, of course, most simply know it as Team Aqua’s logo. Still, they’re being polite for a band of often land-bound pirates.

Quietly, in the brief span of time where the lights above are not quite turned on, two Pokemon enter the stage. It’s probably a bit strange to see a Ludicolo dressed as a traditional Shino priest, but the Swampert next to him looks equally strange in the red robes of traditional Terranid design. They take their place on the dock, the Ludicolo shaking leaves out of its hat to decorate the stage. 

[00:30] The music starts off with a literal bang. A taiko drum calls out, slowly and rhythmically at first. Like the beginning stages of thunder, the sky lights up with each bang. As it does so, the rest of the cast appears; first comes a Luvdisc, swimming as best as she can through the meager surf. Then comes a Sharpedo, shaped like a person; she’s dressed in the traditional salt-crusted garb of the Cetanids, her feet bare and her hair left long. Her tail leaves wave as she passes, following the beat of the drum. 

[00:57] The drum crashes once more, breaking into quick thunder. With it comes another member of the cast; barely recognizable under traditional robes and heavy makeup, the Pirate drifts out of the green room, with his Mega Trident held by his side. He’s wearing a furisode, most unlike a man his age, one that was passed down through his family. It’s his Mother’s and, until his child reaches a certain age, it’s his. There are few hangups about a man wearing a robe like this for the Cetanids, they who prioritize having someone to embody Kyogre in their plays over whether or not it counts as cross-dressing. 

Silk shines blue and opalescent as he makes his way to the center of the stage, following the crash of thunder. He looks like Kyogre, skin painted blue and white to match the details of his kimono. His mask, his symbol in Contests, looks a little out of place. Gilded silver does not match all the white and gold in his outfit. But this is a tradition too and he thinks Juan will forgive him for the fashion faux-pas. 

[01:04] The drums begin in earnest. He spins, slowly, carefully, pointing his Trident at the dock embodying the land. Those of the land, the Swampert and Ludicolo, threaten with displays of teeth and tossed leaves. Those of the sea, the Sharpedo and Luvdisc, reply in turn with glares and splashes of water. Each step and turn follows the drums, growing stronger and stronger. 

[01:20] Until, finally, another drum joins. Dual tones split the Sea and Land into two movements. A Leaf Storm begins in the Ludicolo’s hat, whirling until it sends blades into the sea. Water splurts from the Luvdisc’s mouth until it becomes a Hydro Pump, surprising for her size. Both are loose, carefully, ensnaring and twirling around the other. The focus is on them as they follow a path from side to side. 

[01:40] With the inclusion of a wood instrument comes the Swampert, rocks and ground pulling from the walls as they clatter into the makeshift sea. The Sharpedo dodges these things, quick even with her legs, as she blocks them from hitting their (similarly makeshift) Kyogre with lifted Surfs. As the rocks (encouraged by Earth Power, controlled with extreme care) encircle the Pirate, so does she; the Sharpedo knocks every rock away, her waves lifting to the beat of the drum. 

[02:00] With the twang of a shamisen comes an increase in activity. Land works with land, sea works with sea. The same moves merge effortlessly, a show of rock and leaf contesting with Water that rises and crashes. The same dance is prevalent, tho’ it grows in tempo. Slowly, the Pirate lifts his Trident. As he does, the Sea grows stronger; movements begin to, slowly, overpower the other.

[02:25] Words join the music. He hopes they’ll be unintelligible over the speakers, as they don’t make much sense in this context. This is probably the point where someone in the audience recognizes where this music comes from and releases a hoot of laughter (one that is more delighted than amused, maybe; what 80s nerd doesn’t like Akira, after all?). The Pirate does his best to ignore that.

[02:32] The next words come with the improvement of the Land. A word, meaning nothing, repeats and calls out; and with it, the Swampert and Ludicolo grow strong, shaking off the sleepiness of Summer and growing into the frantic nature of Fall. They push back, beginning to overwhelm, as the Ludicolo leads a dance growing in tempo. The Swampert does his best to keep up, though a careful eye might notice his struggle. It’s hard to match with a Pokemon like this. 

As this dance goes on, the dock begins to build up with leaves and bits of ground. The shape is intentionally, growing more and more like Hoenn’s distinctive volcano; beloved Mount Chimney, red leaves falling onto the top to look like glimmers of lava.

[03:06] As the music slows, so does the movements, and so to the reverse. More care is taken here, twirling leaf and water and ground into spirals and arcs. These are Pokemon who live for Contests, even if the Sharpedo’s glare and snap is distinctly violent. Of them all, she leads; her steps follow a dance inspired by those wielded by Cetanids who wanted to calm or worsen the sea. She and her Kyogre, her trainer in makeup that she’s trying not to laugh at, work perfectly in harmony (though, admittingly, he does lag a bit in that outfit. Silk is heavy when it’s wet).

[03:40] Slowly, the sky builds. Leaves float there, like the dappling of clouds. They cast shadow and light upon the water, like a summer storm sends thunder across hundreds of miles. The Swampert takes up the fighting, wielding the Earth with a strength that belays practice, as the Ludicolo steps back. There’s a small chest on the dock, carefully hidden, that it goes to.

It pulls out a piece of blue ‘crystal’, one as big as a beachball. Contests mean having to make things larger for everyone to see and, while the Pirate doesn’t much care for one-time-use props, Juan did a very good job constructing a fake Blue Orb. 

[04:48] When Ludicolo lifts the Orb, the Pirate recoils. He curls up on himself, as if to hide from it. The people of the Sea notice this and fight back, but their water weakens. It trickles, rather than gushes. They fight, fight, fight and dance, but they can’t go against the Water being twisted up and around the Orb. With a heave, the false Kyogre collapses, face-down in the water. 

Delighted, those of the land riot. The leaves that were left floating above the stage come down, fluttering prettily, to cover the sea. Those of the Sea recoil and hide within them, a hard measure to ask for when one is a shark nearly as big as her trainer. The land dances, happy as can be. They follow the beat, of course, and Ludicolo still leads.

Slowly, strangely, the water recedes. Those of the land do not notice it, nor how their dock rises until a cover of leaves, as all that is left of the sea around them, is but a mere centimeter of water. A puddle, one that the acting Kyogre crawls from and reaches for his Trident. There’s a glow there, in that tiny crystal, as bright as the light in the Blue Orb. 

As the small group in the audience begins to chant (Rainbow Falls, Rainbow Falls, Rainbow Falls) he lifts the trident and stands. The people of the land watch him, their Blue Orb threatening, but… 

But he lifts his Trident nonetheless. 

[06:03] With a crack of wood, something rises from beneath the land, building from the hump that grew during the last act. An enormous Kyogre, one shaped like a Pokemon, rises from the stage. It’s made of seawater, one that drips and denies leaves as it grows larger and floats higher. Inside is the Sharpedo, Rainbows soaking her as her form changes into something larger, more dangerous. Her Surf encircles them, as the Luvdisc beside her provides shape with Aqua Ring. 

Pitching a roll towards the lights fills the room with Rainbows, casting that enormous Kyogre in the hues of humanity’s gift. The section of audience reserved for the Pirate’s curious party of supporters cheer, reaching from the stand to drag their hands through the Kyogre as it encircles the stage. 

As it reaches the highest point, it stops for a second. The actor playing Kyogre below looks up at it and, with a bang of his Trident against the floor, the massive water bubble pops. Water is sprayed everywhere, soaking the audience in warm seawater, and the Pirate jolts forward to catch his Sharpedo before she falls. 

The music tapers off. The show is done. As is tradition, the actors step forward and take a bow; something the Sharpedo, still in her trainer’s arms, has a bit of trouble with. With a delighted wave, they all return back to the Green Room. 

               ---------

And, as they do, Archie lifts his head at his competitors seated there and laughs. His shark laughs too, as nasty as he.. “Good luck beating that, nerds.”

[ecfandom]

ok let's see: big city lawyer return to her small town at christmas time to stop some corporate closure and magically fall in love with some woman and her dog

Ah, I love it! This totally got away from me. I’ll do more tomorrow!

***

Okay so Clarke is the youngest partner at Azgeda & Weather, a NYC corporate law firm that handles all the big Fortune 500 companies along the eastern seaboard. Being the youngest partner at the firm means two things: Clarke takes no prisonrs, and the law firm is her life. We’re talking breakfast, lunch and dinner at her desk (a large desk in a large corner office on the top floor, there’s not a lot to complain about honestly), a second wardrobe in the sleek, modern armoir in her office, sheets and pillow tucked under the stylish but massively uncomfortable couch. She has a nice apartment that she’s spending a fortune but there’s no telling why seeing as how she’s never there. 

She’s got a good routine. Up at 4:30 every morning, to the gym for a good “sweat out your rage at the world” session, steaming steaming shower so hot it almost hurts, she dawns her impeccable outfit including her signature pencil skirt which costs more than most people’s monthly rent, then it’s off for her morning juice cleanse and back to the office for her 8am briefing. It’s practiced, its perfected, it’s...necessary. If her day is not scheduled down to the minuted, if she’s not busy, thinking, always occupied...that’s disastrous. That means thinking about all the things she doesn’t want to think about...like how lonely she is, how much her heart still aches from the day her entire life crumbled into a million pieces...

So you can imagine how furious she is when her boss pulls her into his office and tells her to pack her bags, she’ll be spending her Christmas holiday overseeing the closing of the factory at the heart of a small town named, Arkadia...HER small town named Arkadia. 

“This is a joke, right?” She asks, actually laughing in his face. But he doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink in fact, and her heart sinks. It’s not a joke and she’s expected at the airport at 7am the following morning. 

Meanwhile, in that little town across the country, residents are in a full blown panic. The factory in town was just bought out by a big corporation and all operations are shutting down. Of course, this factory employs 95% of the town and these works will have no where to go, no job, and essentially no severance just weeks before Christmas.

The day her aging father comes home and tells his daughter with tears in his eyes that he’s out of the job is the day coffee shop owner, Lexa’s, famous smile falters. Her little shop lies in the heart of the town and sees just about every town member pass through at some point during the week. Lexa’s drinks are dreamy and her shop is warm and cozy. It’s a safe haven and though she’d never acknowledge it, if you asked any neighbor, they’d tell you that the magic has nothing to do with the shop, it’s all Lexa. She’s always got an ear to lend and the fluffy golden retriever that’s always by her side never fails to bring a smile to everyone’s faces. Except this week. This week, the whole town is grieving. 

“I don’t understand how they think they can just come in here and unemploy an entire town of people and get away with it.” Anya, Lexa’s barista and long-time friend, looks scary, and puts on a good show of being tough, but she’s a big softy. But this week, Lexa genuine worries about the safety of her mugs as Anya roughly towels them dry, scowling at the black town car that pulls up outside, clearly from out of town. “How do they fucking sleep at night.” 

“They don’t sleep,” Lexa says. “These are the kinds of people with no lives, no friends, and no conscious.” 

Anya whistles quietly. “They may not have a conscious, but they certainly have something to look at.” 

When Lexa looks up she’s definitely taken by surprise. The beautiful woman walking through the door is nothing like she expected. Strikingly blonde is the only thing that grabs her attention before the sweetness of her face. But that sweetness is impressively overshadowed by the coolness in the woman’s pale, blue eyes the second they connect with Lexa’s. 

Before Lexa can even open her mouth to tell her they’re about to close, the woman is holding up her hand. “Please, before you tell me all the ways in which I am ruining your life and killing your beloved pet, I just need some fucking coffee,” she huffs, not bothering to look at Lexa as she digs through her purse. 

“What a surprise, she’s a raging bitch,” Anya quips, tossing her towel on the counter and walking away when the woman looks up at her and glares. “Sorry, Lex. I’m not serving the wicked witch of the east.”

“Pretty sure it’s wicked witch of the west,” the woman snaps back.

“You’re from the east aren’t you? I rest my case,” Anya says, then looks at Lexa. “You can fire me if you want, but I won’t serve her kind. You’re on your own.” 

“My kind?” The woman mouths, outraged.

Lexa’s shakes her head and grins at her friend’s antics. She’s no happier about these outsiders than the rest of the town, but a customer is a customer. “What can I get you?” She asks, barely taking notice when her trusty pup, Max, gets up from his bed and pads away from her. 

Clarke is momentarily caught off guard by the gentle tone, expecting more of the nastiness she’d been encountering since she landed in the tiny, regional airport. No one recognizes her or if they do, they don’t care that she used to be one of them. Why should they? It’s been 20 years.

Even more startling than the gentle tone is the woman behind it. She’s tall and sturdy, just as handsome as she is pretty. The picture perfect red flannel she wears stretches perfectly along her broad shoulders and she is perhaps the most attractive woman Clarke has ever seen. Not what she was expecting from the tiny town she hoped to never see again.

She’s never one for a loss of words--she’s an attorney for christ’s sake--but this woman has Clarke tongue tied like never before. It takes three attempts for her to order her coffee, granted, the second time was interrupted by a cold wet nose pushing into her hand. Now, sitting at the table in the nearly empty cafe, Clarke can’t stop watching the woman behind the counter. She’s beautiful, in an androgynous sort of way. Sure, she had long, brown hair and pretty green eyes, but there’s was something masculine about her. Something rugged. Whatever it was, Clarke was mesmerized. 

They part ways with little conversation. After all, Clarke is here to ruin all of their lives, and Lexa has to get home to her newly unemployed father who can’t pay for his medical bills without a job, so there’s that. 

They don’t run in to each other again for a day or so, and Lexa can almost forget about her life derailing...until the day she’s in the local bar and she hears an argument break out. Getting up, she moves down the bar to get a better look. A lifetime ago, she was a Marine, and she can’t help but run toward trouble, as her father would always say. 

She’s expecting the usual brawl over a drinking contest or a lost bet, but instead, she finds a few out of place suits almost completely surrounded by a ring of angry factory workers. “Call the police,” she tells Frank, the bartender, knowing what’s about to come. She’s concerned, but not too concerned. There’s still time to de-escelate things with some open conversation, so she moves carefully, cautiously, edging her way into the circle. That is until she sees the woman from from the other night, face scared like a dear in headlights but eyes glinting, ready for a fight. 

Lexa’s unsure of whether she’s more scared for the woman or annoyed. Whoever she is, she’s not afraid to back down, that’s obvious, and that means trouble. And trouble for her, in this town, could very well end in blood. At the head of the confrontation is Sal, a fourth generation factory worker taking the closure the hardest. He’s been stirring up the town for weeks, just waiting for a battle. Lexa is angry like the rest of them but she’s sure as hell not going to let blood be spilled. She’s almost too slow. One moment, she’s telling Sal to back off, the next, a broken beer bottle is hurtling towards the men in suits. In seconds, the two groups converge on each other, and Lexa has just enough time to grab the woman’s arm and yank her out of the middle. Lexa practically picks her up and carries her out the front door just as the police are rushing in. 

Clarke is struggling the entire way, cursing about god knows what under her breath. 

“You’re welcome,” Lexa retorts, dropping the woman into a pile of fresh snow. “Next time I’ll try not to save your life.” 

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I was fine.” 

“You were seconds away from getting the business end of a broken beer bottle shoved into your face. But suit yourself.” 

Lexa’s beginning to walk away when Clarke comes to her senses and goes after her, begrudgingly thanking her. 

“I’m Lexa.” 

“I’m Clarke.” There’s a handshake, and somehow it almost feels like a temporary truce. That and Lexa’s hand is warm and strong and firm. 

For the next several days Lexa can’t shake the fact that she’s a traitor. She can’t get Clarke off her mind and while everyone else is cursing she and her colleague’s existence, Lexa is just hoping to run into her again. Just to get another look at those eyes. There’s something buried there, something Clarke has gotten really good at hiding, and Lexa wants in. 

The next time she sees Clarke, the woman is rushing down the street, a small group of angry residents shouting at her. Lexa sees her coming from the shop window and steps out to pull Clarke inside, just as the group was beginning to converge on her. Clarke makes some quip, laughing it off, but she’s clearly shaken and Lexa has an inexplicable need to protect her. 

She’s in the back making a special drink of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cherries to warm Clarke up, and when she comes back around to the tables, she smiles to see Clarke asleep in a booth, leaning against the wall, Max sitting protectively beside her. 

“Good boy,” she murmurs, patting his head. Clarke rouses and Lexa slides into the opposite booth, watching with a little bit of pride and a lot of sexual attraction as Clarke moaned her delight and thanks at the delicious drink. Lexa tries her best not to blush at Clarke’s sounds of pleasure, but she’s really never been good at hiding her feelings. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Clarke asks. 

“You’re just making a lot of noises.” 

“Noises?” 

“The...moans...and...you know what? Nevermind. Just drink your drink.” 

Clarke smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she knows flirting with a local is the last thing she should be doing, but Lexa has saved her life now, and she’s handsome and kind and her dog is cute, and Clarke really can’t help it. 

They do this again, the next day, just as the shop is closing. Clarke stays after the doors are locked and they talk for hours. Mostly Lexa talks, and Clarke skirts around her own life with half truths and questions about Lexa. They do it again and again, until it’s almost a routine. 

“Why are you letting this happen?” Lexa finally asks her one day. “You’re not a bad person. You have to do know what this is doing to our town. You may not understand, being from a big city and all, but we’re family.” 

Oh but Clarke does know. She knows because she grew up here. She knows this town better than Lexa does, but she’ll never tell. She can’t revisit those memories. She can’t think about the past. Not without losing the control she has spent her entire life building. She can’t let Lexa into that part of her life, but that doesn’t stop her from falling for the sweet drinks and the even sweeter drink maker. She gives the cowardly answer about her job, her duty, nothing she can do about it, and Lexa just nods because what else is there to say? 

If Lexa is annoyed by her answer, she doesn’t show it. They continue to spend time together and the more they are seen with each other, the more the residents start to relax around Clarke. Some of them even like her, chatting her up when they see her in the cafe. Some of them look at her as if she belongs, as if she’s always belonged, as if they’ve known her from some other lifetime. 

Things feel good. Suspiciously good but Clarke does her best to just let live. Lexa is walking her back to her car one night when they pass the ice skating rink in the town square. 

“Don’t even think about it,” she says when Lexa turns to her with a glint in her eyes. 

Lexa wins, and she’s holding Clarke’s hands, skating backwards to help keep Clarke upright. They can’t stop giggling and it feels like grade school when everything was okay and good and nothing hurt. 

Clarke trips over her own feet and she tumbles into Lexa, laughing. Lexa is strong and sturdy and when Lexa catches her and pulls her close, Clarke is a goner. Looking up into those green eyes, it takes second for her to lean in, looking for a kiss. She’s not even thinking, she’s just wanting. Wanting Lexa. Wanting her close. Wanting to know if her lips are as soft as they look. 

They are. God, they are and it’s perfect. Lexa’s perfect. They’re in the middle of the rink, forcing people to skate around them, but Clarke can’t stop kissing her, and Lexa has no interest in pulling away. 

It’s feels natural, it’s feels right and wonderful and so so good when they go home together that night. It’s been so long since Clarke has opened her heart to anyone, and now that she’s opened it for Lexa, Lexa has it completely. 

Lexa brings her coffee and a croissant in bed, crawling back under the covers to love up on Clarke again as soon as she’s done with her breakfast. It’s noon before they finally get out of the door. Clarke has a meeting and Lexa has to get to the shop. They’re walking together to Clarke’s car, and Lexa’s leaning in for a kiss when Clarke sees a man glaring at them from across the street.

It throws Clarke back into her past so quickly she jerks away from Lexa, dodging a kiss, and getting in her car and driving away without a word. The radio silence last days and Lexa is as pissed as she is heartbroken. They run into each other at a press conference the corporation who bought out the factory holds to inform the residents about the planned demolition. 

Lexa can’t hold back her pain and anger. “I thought you were different from them, but you’re not, are you? You used me. You got me and the town to like you so that what? You’d be left alone long enough to help them destroy us? Is that it? Make me fall for you so I’d let my guard down? Let you get away with this? I feel bad for you, Clarke. I feel bad that you don’t know what it’s like to have a community like this. To have friends and family for neighbors. People you’ve grown up with and lived beside and I pity you.” She’s too angry to realize that she’s admitted to falling for Clarke and she doesn’t give Clarke the chance to say anything before she’s walking away. 

Just days away from the demolition, they’re both miserable. They haven’t talked and when Clarke goes to try to see Lexa to tell her she’s going to make things right because she’s fallen for her to, she can’t be found. She thinks she’s being avoided until she overhears a patron talking about Lexa’s father being in the hospital. Clarke doesn’t think, she just goes. It’s not hard to find out that Lexa’s father got pretty sick and racked up some pretty hefty medical bills that Lexa’s now on the hook for thanks to her father’s unemployment making it impossible to pay for his shitty insurance’s deductible. 

Clarke does the one thing she can think to do to help but she doesn’t dare go to Lexa. Now’s not the time and she knows she’s the last person Lexa wants to see. 

Lexa, of course, is completely at a loss. Her father is still sick and needs to stay at the hospital, but the longer he stays, the bigger the bill gets. She’s distraught and out of options, so imagine her surprise the day she’s informed that her father’s deductible has been paid and his treatments not covered by insurance have been paid for. They can’t tell her who paid it for confidentiality reasons and Lexa doesn’t have time to think too much about it. She has to get her father taken care of and she has to get back to the shop.

Things are starting to feel okay again, except for the fact that she can’t stop thinking about Clarke. The only thing that makes it a little more bearable is the news that the demolition has been paused. Some kind of red tape fiasco. The town makes a collective sigh of relief as the corporate giant loostens it’s grip around their necks. Clarke is nowhere to be found, but Lexa wonders what this means for her. She’s too pissed by Clarke’s disappearance to find out. 

Meanwhile, Clarke is back in NYC, sitting in her office while she is screamed at for pointing out the anti-trust issues with this corporation buying up the factory, creating a monopoly. 

“If the DOJ blocks this acquisition because YOU brought this contract to them, this will be the end of our relationship with Dante Corp! Do you have any idea the money you have cost us?!” 

But Clarke’s not listening. She didn’t care about her job. She didn’t care about the money. She cared for the people of the town. She cared for Lexa’s father. She cared for Lexa and she had to make things right.

A month passes and the entire town is elated when they learn that factory is no longer being bought and demolished and everyone has their jobs back. Someone is still paying off Lexa’s father’s medical bills, beating Lexa to it every time Lexa calls to make her own payment. Her father is back on his feet again and the everything is back to normal. Everything is good. Except it isn’t, because Lexa’s heart is broken and she can’t comprehend how someone as incredible as Clarke could be so selfish. 

She’s tired and feeling particularly down the night she walks into the bar after work and sees that radiant blonde hair at the end of the bar. She doesn’t want to believe it, but when Clarke turns and their eyes meet, Lexa’s breath leaves her and she feels everything all at once. Sadness, elation, betrayal..love. Through it all, it’s still love. 

“Hey,” she says softly, cautiously sitting down beside her. The bar is quiet tonight, but the other patrons are too absorbed in their own conversations to pay them any attention. 

“Hi,” Clarke says, studying the beautiful face that hadn’t left her thoughts for one second since she’d left. 

“I suppose you heard about the factory?” 

Clarke nods, smiling slightly. “I’m so happy for you.” 

“Guess you got unlucky.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, whoever made that contract fall through cost you this client, I imagine.” 

When Clarke doesn’t say anything, Lexa frowns. “What am I missing?” 

Clarke pulls out a trifold of paper and slides it over to Lexa. Lexa picks it up and squints at it. “What is this?” 

“It’s anti-trust suit.” 

“I...I don’t understand.” 

“Magnus Unites, the company that bought Arkadia Beverage Company, which is the company that owns the factory, doesn’t exist and neither does Arkadia Beverage Company.” 

Lexa shakes her head, trying to follow along, but not understanding. “That doesn’t make any sense. What does that mean?” 

“It’s means that Magnus Unites and Arkadia Beverage Company are shell companies. They’re not real. Magnus Corp is actually just Dante Corp and Arkadia Beverage Company was bought out five years ago by Atlantic Foods.

“Dante Corp? As in the Dante Corp that owns practically every product you see in a grocery store?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

“Okay. So?” 

“So, Dante Corp and Atlantic Foods are the two largest food and beverage packaging companies in the United States. Atlantic Foods is worth 83.7 million dollars. If Dante Corp had bought out Atlantic Foods through this shell company, they would own a complete monopoly on the food packaging industry. It’s illegal.” 

“Holy shit,” Lexa breathes, looking back at the paper. “So someone found out and what? Told?” 

Clarke chuckles. “Yeah. You could say that. This is an anti-trust suit submitted to the Department of Justice. An immediate injunction was ordered and the factory was returned to the previous owners of Arkadia Beverage.” 

“Wow. That’s an incredible.”

Clarke watches her, so fond of the studious, careful way Lexa studied something important. When Lexa looks up, she’s almost startled by the emerald green she had missed you very much. 

“Why do you have this?” 

“You told me I didn’t know what it was like to know a community like this. To live side by side with friends and family.” Clarke pulls out an old, worn picture from her purse and slides it towards Lexa. 

Lexa looks down at young Clarke, beaming between two people she could only assume were her parents. Behind them stood a building Lexa knew like the back of her hand.

“That’s my shop,” she murmurs, looking at Clarke confused. 

“When I lived here, it was a pizza parlor,” Clarke murmurs. 

Lexa nods. “The kitchen still smells like pepperoni.”  Clarke laughs and nods, and Lexa nearly jumps up at the sight of tears in Clarke’s eyes. “Clarke?” 

“Those are my parents,” Clarke says, looking down at the photo. “We had pizza night every Friday at that parlor. It was something we’d done for as long as I can remember.” Clarke uses her pointer finger to drag the photo closer to her. “They died,” she murmurs, her voice taught with restrained tears. “Drunk driver. The cameras caught him clearly...but the prosecuting attorney was paid off. He didn’t see a single day of jail time. I was twelve.” 

“Clarke, god, I’m so sorry.” 

Clarke looks up, blinking back tears. “This was my home. These people were my home. And having this community was the only thing that got me through. When I left, the only thing I could think about was going to law school and making sure what happened to me never happened to anyone else. Somewhere along the way I fell into corporate law, and I forgot why I was even doing this. Family and friends are everything.” She shrugs. “I had to make it right. For them.” Then, she looks up at Lexa, her eyes earnest and sorry. “For you.” 

Lexa swallows back her own emotions. “Why did you leave back then?” 

Clarke laughs bitterly. “After my parent’s died I lived with my neighbors for a while. They had a daughter my age and we were best friends. Eventually, we were more than friends. On my thirteenth birthday, we were at park watching a meteor shower. She told me she wanted to kiss me and I let her. I was over the moon. There had been so much pain since my parents dies, and here was this perfect, little moment, to distract me for a little while. The next thing I know, some man is running towards us, shouting at us, asking us how dare we do such things in public. It’s a small town. Word travels fast. When her parent’s found out, they kicked me out. And I never came back.” 

Lexa wants nothing more than to pull her into her arms and hold her, never letting her go, but Clarke is already sliding off the bar stool and putting the paper and photo back into her purse. 

“I’m sorry I ran on you, and I’m sorry I left without saying good bye. You didn’t deserve that. And I’m not here for forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that nothing between us was ever fake. I never had ulterior motives or...nefarious plans. I never planned for you. But there you were, and I couldn’t help it. It was just you. It was only every you.”

“Clarke, I--” 

But the door to the bar swings open and a rowdy crowd tumbles in from the snow storm. Lexa looks up at the commotion, feels herself get jostled as people push towards the empty bar stools. When she looks around, Clarke is gone. She goes to find her and steps on a piece of paper on the floor. 

She picks it up and unfolds it, confused at first at what she’s looking at. It’s a medical bill. With her father’s name on it. No, not a bill. A receipt. A receipt for a recent payment for the last installment of her father’s payment plan on his medical expenses. And under the payer’s information...is Clarke’s name. 

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, her eyes brimming. She runs out of the bar, but Clarke is nowhere to be found. 

***

Clarke is just settling onto her couch having dawned her paid, flannel pajamas and whipped up a big bowl of drown your sorrows flavored ice cream. The best part of losing her job is that she finally gets to enjoy her fancy apartment with the best view of the city she’s ever seen. She plans to wallow in her big fancy apartment and watch RomComs until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore because she’s sick of being alone with her thoughts. 

She’s contemplating adding in a bath to this plan when there’s a knock at her door. She frowns, but is not entirely sure that she didn’t forget that she ordered delivery, so she goes to the door anyways. For all the fancy features of her apartment, there is no peep hole and she is too depressed bother for any self preservation. She opens the door, ready either to accept her forgotten order or yell at the solicitor knocking on her door at 9 o’clock at night. 

But it’s not delivery and it’s not a solicitor. It’s Lexa. Lexa with those sweet eyes and gentle smile. Lexa with a piece of paper in one hand and roses in another. 

“Oh god,” is all Clarke manages to get out before she’s crying. 

She cries harder when she feels Lexa’s arms around her, holding her close. “I’m so sorry,” Clarke says, and neither of them are sure what she’s sorry for. Clarke is just so damn thankful to see her. 

Lexa holds her and presses kisses to Clarke’s hair until she calms, then she pulls back and brushes away Clarke’s tears from her cheeks.

“How did you know where I live?” Clarke asks, sniffling and leaning into Lexa’s sure body. 

Lexa holds up the medical bill receipt and Clarke colors, finally caught. 

“You should have told me,” Lexa says gently, so incredibly in love with the teary-eyed woman in front of her. “This was too much, Clarke.” 

Clarke shakes her head. “It was the least I could do.” 

“I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Clarke’s eyes brim again and she shrugs, shyly. “I don’t need any thanks, Lex. I did it because...I love you.” 

Lexa grins and puts the receipt aside, taking Clarke’s face into her hands. “You have no idea how much I love you,” she says and captures Clarke’s lips. Lexa could kiss her forever, but Clarke can’t stop smiling and of course that makes Lexa laugh. 

They pull away, but keep each other close. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to bring you flowers,” Clarke says, gesturing to the roses Lexa had put down on the table inside the door. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I’m the one who messed up.” 

Lexa shakes her head. “I let you walk away from me three times. Do it once, shame on you. Do it twice, shame on me. Do it three times, and well, I think I went and lost my damn mind for a minute, but it’s back, and it can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Clarke smiles and leans in, kissing her again. “How long do we have?” 

Lexa pulls a slip of paper out of her back pocket and holds it up. “It’s a one way ticket, love. We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

STAR WARS-SPECULATION #2: Rebel or Lost Cause? *May Contain Spoilers*

--- During the course of human history there has been many cases of overwhelming tyranny and opression. It can be as small as the dominion of a single creature, or as vast as an entire world. But as they say, even the cornered rat will bite the cat, and give birth to struggle and resistance. Under these circumstances, a rebellion rises to resist and challenge the rule of the oppressors, despite facing unlikely odds. David against Goliath, the Spartans in the battle of Thermopylae, and when speaking of the Star Wars-sequel trilogy, the Resistance and the First Order.

While one can go on to say that the conflict between the First Order and the Resistance is basically a carbon-copy of the Empire versus the Rebellion from the original trilogy, as we don't go deep enough into the history or political aspects of either group to really nail down their differences to their older counterparts. Though from what I gather, the First Order is composed of the remnants of the empire, who by the time of The Force Awakens (2015) is recognized as an extremist following, though not generally seen as a major danger in the eyes of the government (like a space-equivelent to North Korea?). The Resistance is a countergroup acting outside of the galactic government who sees the threath of the First Order and keeps an eye on their acitivties.

Either way, that is not what I am here to talk about today, as my focus will be directed at one of the most principal characters within the Resistance: Poe Dameron.

Played by the very likable Guetamalan-American actor Oscar Isaac, Poe Dameron is an ace X-wing pilot, an agent of the Resistance and the original owner of the droid BB-8. His actions in the first movie, where he stores important information within his droid, is what starts the whole chain of events for the trilogy, an act which rhymes with the actions of princess Leia in A New Hope (1977). Over the trilogy he is portrayed as a brave, cocky and hotheaded brother in arms. He is a generally well-received character, especially in regards to his bromantic (and apparently quasi-romantic) relationship with Finn, but has over the progression of the last two films been the subject for critique. Not as red-hot of a critique as some other aspects of the sequels, but enough to make you raise your eyebrowns a bit. The main critique being, is he REALLY neccesary?

Don't get me wrong, new members of the Resistance are vital for new movies, otherwise the Resistance might have looked like an old folks home. Poe Dameron should have all the ingredients neccesary to be the posterboy of the the Resistance: he is the member with the most screentime, his actions set off, he is played by a very likable actor and he is a great pilot. But the issue is, while it is all there, it is not really utilized well. The further one goes with these movies, the more one realizes that he is the least developed of the main characters. His role in TFA is minor, he acts as an agressor in a generally disliked sideplot in The Last Jedi (2017), and his part in The Rise of Skywalker (2019), while the richest in content, feels un-earned because the direction of the character is neither clear or given enough development.

So considering that his role doesn't add a whole lot in the trilogy after the first part, was Poe Dameron's continuous role in the sequel-trilogy REALLY neccesary? Objectively, I would have to say no. I mean if a character doesn't have a clear purpose, you either give him one, scale him back or kill him off, so that you can give more room for the other characters. I believe the therm is “kill your darlings.“ With that said, I can understand why one would be reluctant to kill him off to begin with; Oscar Isaacs is the most likable actor ever, something that translates into his performance, and in turn, the character. While Poe Dameron is pretty pointless, he is still hard to completely dislike. This illustrates the power of a talented actor, that he or she can someimes overwin bland or nonsensical writing.

So we have a character that is perfectly likable and who could have been a great addition to the franchise. There certainly was potencial in him, so what could have been done to make the most of it? Well, below are some of the directions I think could have been taken:  

A) Poe Dameron dying in TFA: This one feels appropriate, considering it was the original intent of the moviemakers. As stated by Oscar Isaac's in Business Insider (https://www.businessinsider.com/star-wars-poe-was-supposed-to-die-2016-3?r=US&IR=T), his character was originally supposed to die. While it would be a shame to see a likable character go so fast, it might have solved a couple of issues and added something more to the first part of the trilogy. Besides the fact that it could have added an extra layer of danger to the plot, in that any character could die at any point, it would have also put all of our eggs in the basket of a deserting stormtrooper and a random scavenger. Plus, killing him off wouldn't have made his role in TFA much smaller anyway. Poe not being in the two following movies could have also left much bigger room for the development Rey, Finn and several other characters. Also, to see how the heroism and sacrifice of a single Resistance-member would affect Finn would be really interesting, considering that Finn would have owed his freedom and life to a complete stranger (who was just recently his enemy) that would have died before he could have even had a chance to thank him. How does that make a person who is trying to flee from the battlefield, feel? I can't help but to think of a similar situation in the Green Lantern-comics (DC), where veteran member of the Green Lantern Corps, Abin-sur, crashlands on Earth and gives his power ring to Hal Jordan, a human pilot, before dying. Abin-sur's death had a considerable effect on Hal Jordan, in that besides becoming a new corps member, but became one by taking over the ring of the corp's most beloved and respected members. That is a hell of legacy to live up to, not to mention a massive responsibility. Something like THAT would have been a pretty thought-provoking storyline for Finn.

B) His carelessness has personal consequences in TLJ: In the beginning of TLJ, Poe Dameron disobeys an order to evacuate and instead engages a First Order fleet. This is a foolhardy act, as even though they take down a Stardestroyer, a lot of Resistance pilots die in the process. While it has several consequences within the movie, such as barely having any pilots left for the remainder of it, he himself do not seem overly affected by it, dismissing it as the casualties of war. But if you really think about it, should there not be some resentment aimed at him besides from his superiors, and shouldn’t he feel more guilt? I mean, Rose Tico's sister died in that battle. Wouldn't it have been more interesting Rose and others resent him for his careless actions? This could've been a more likable struggle for him, as he should have been the one to learn that war is not just about defeating the enemy, but saving the ones you love. If he had done this and in the process displayed a sense of leadership in a time of great need, maybe his transformation into a commander in TROS would have felt more organic?

C) Poe goes with Finn to Canto Bight instead of Rose Tico: This one could have worked as a continuation to B. Canto Bight isn't exactly a favorite moment in TLJ, even for the ones who like TLJ. The main criticism being that it is not that interesting of a planetary environment; basically just feeling like a casino with aliens. Another critique is that it felt like a detour that was too disconnected and did ultimately not add that much to the other parts of the movie. One way of making the movie less fragmented, as well as give Poe something better to do, could have been to give him more or less the same role as Rose Tico. Besides further developing his and Finn's friendship, it could have even been a way of putting that awkward kiss in the third act to better use, and confirm some legitimacy to the whole Finn X Poe-ship. While I am not staunch supporter of the ship, I have to admit that it would have been interesting. With that said, I don't think it would have made everyone happy. I mean lets face it, if people get upset about a black dude in a stormtrooper-uniform, one can only assume how they would have reacted to an openly gay or bi character in Star Wars. But at the same time, if people were pissed off at even the good bits in TLJ, why not go all the way and piss off every stuck up parent sitting in the theaters worldwide while you're at it? Certainly would have been ballsiest move ever, especially considering it’s a Disney-film.

D) Poe staying at Leia's side in TROS: As I have written before, the main issues with TROS is messy storytelling and a rushed pace. One of many things that adds to this is by suddenly providing Poe with a backstory while simultenously trying to give him a bigger role than before by having him travel with Rey and Finn. What if they had scaled him down a little, let him stay with Leia as they plan for the upcoming attack? Not only would it have been more powerful for him to be there with her as she passes away, but also motivate him to step into the role of a mature leader more. I realize that this is a little sensitive, as it may have required additional footage of Leia in order to work. Though to be fair, being respectful is one thing, making a good movie is another. And also, if they can remake young Leia for a flashback, why can't they just remake old Leia a bit for some extra material?

Could any of these alternatives have added something good to the movie, or subtracted from the main story? You tell me. No, seriously, tell me what you think, I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter in the comments. Do you have any ideas of your own that could have helped make Poe Dameron the most iconic pilot of the sequel era? Feel free to discuss this with me :) ---

[taiblogcomics]

Mon-test of Champions

Hey there, fabric faces. Well, it's quite nearly Halloween. As such, I see no reason to spoil the nice holiday with a Red Hood comic. Instead, let's follow what's become something of a tradition for this blog the last couple years. Alas, due to pandemic, I did not return to that used bookstore and pick up more Bailey School Kids like I promised last year. But I do have another excellent treat for you. While this particular book wasn't a major part of my childhood, its author was: Bruce Coville.

I don't think this guy ever wrote a stinker of a book. Maybe some of the Space Brat series, but I think they were directed at a younger audience. But others were really good. The My Teacher is an Alien books were about humanity's place in the universe and their worth as a species. The Aliens Ate My Homework series was ultimately about the importance of being kind. The Magic Shop books were always about self-improvement. The point is, they were great books. I highly encourage you to pick up a few if you've never read any of his work. Now, as for the one we're covering today, it's not really as deep as his other works. But it does suit the season, and that's what's important~

Here's the cover, as photographed by me, because it's really hard to find a decent one on Google:

Oh boy, you can really tell by their jeans and high-tops that this is the '80s. Not to mention the audience's haircuts. And indeed, this book was published in 1989. It's actually one of his earlier books. Anyway, the Count here has something to declare, Frankenstein is supportive, and the Mummy's just happy to be here. The Wolfman, however, is looking directly into the camera like a jerk. He's also brought his dinner onstage with him, which is pretty rude. Don't get me started on this tentacle monster, who does not actually appear in the book proper. And thank god for that~

So our protagonist today is Mike McGraw. His mom runs an advertising firm, and his stepdad is a science-fiction author. Mike, however, is your typical teen, bored during the summer. His stepdad suggests he get a job, and furthermore encourages the job to be at his mom's workplace. Mike's actually into it, but his mom needs to be talked into it, so Mike excuses himself to the basement to bring up more drinks. In the basement, Mike is suddenly attacked. But it's okay, it's just his best friend, the unlikely-named Kevver Smith. Mike and Kevver have been friends since early childhood, and even share the same birthday. Kevver's also one up on Mike on their prank war now. Oh boy, just wait until Youtube happens, guys.

The boys return from the basement, and Mom has decided to give the boys a shot at being the office gofers. Kevver is included mostly so Mike doesn't get bored. The book skips a bit to get to their first day, where they meet Wendy Moon, the firm's major artist. She's also extremely dramatic, posing on the floor with an "Art is Dead" sign affixed to her chest. See, their current client wants a very boring design, and Wendy objects because, like, why do you even hire a graphic designer if you're not going to take their suggestions? Also working at the firm is Pete, who is the muscle, I guess. The book is unclear on his actual duties. It's not important.

Anyway, time passes and the pair get used to their new job. Everything seems fine until it isn't. Ed the Plumber, the client Wendy was complaining about, has decided to cancel the contract. He's been talked into it by Myrna Smud, a local activist who runs BAM: Billboards Are Monstrous. Get this: she's not against them for, like, aesthetic reasons. If she thought billboards were an eyesore, I could at least understand that. No, it's because she thinks billboards are too creative. They overstimulate children's imaginations and lead to criminal behaviour. And yes, she's serious. So the firm's in a bad mood because a blank billboard is a drain on the company.

The boys' birthday is coming up, and when asked for present ideas, Mike only has one thought in his head: he wants that billboard. It's going unused now, so why not let him do a goof with it? As usual, Stepdad Jeff talks Mom into it. Taking inspiration from Ms. Smud's ranting, Mike and Kevver collaborate with Wendy to design them a monster billboard. After a long brainstorming session, they come up with something not unlike the cover, inviting people to "Enter the Monster of the Year Contest Today!" With the design created, they reproduce it onto panels, and Pete helps them put it up on display. This has been a good third of the book already, which might be even slower pace than some Goosebumps books~

Fortunately, things do start to kick off now. With the billboard up, people begin to wonder who set it up. They contact the firm, and since the boys aren't trying to keep it a secret, they cop to it immediately. This gets them an invite to be on the radio with their favourite early morning DJ, Skip Toomaloo. And as unlikely a name as that is, you could get away with thinking it's just a radio persona. But no, when they actually go on the show, turns out Skip has a daughter named Lulu. Let me repeat that for you: Lulu Toomaloo. Saddled with a name like this, is it any wonder little Lulu turned into kind of a complete brat, planning revenge on her father at every waking moment? Worse yet, she's also a walking fat joke, since her wrath can be bought off with food. It was still the '80s, and that's what we did with fat characters. Seriously, though, nearly all her lines are her announcing she's hungry. There's probably a reason why this isn't one of Bruce Coville's more beloved books~

Anyway, the real meat of the story starts shortly after they find a cloud of bats conspicuously hanging around the billboard. A day or two later, they start to receive telegrams from Transylvania. Someone's now actively sponsoring the contest, and another someone is coming to enter. After confirming that Transylvania is, in fact, a real place, they decide to humour whoever sent the telegram, just in case it turns out to be true. They head to the airport at the stated time, though the flight ends up delayed, coming in at midnight. How appropriate~

The man who comes to meet them is a little hunchbacked fellow in a labcoat, who introduces himself as Igor. He's a bit harried, and rushes them all off to the baggage claim as quickly as possible. It's a good thing, too, since the plane crew has just unloaded an enormous crate for him. Before they can move it, though, the crate begins to shake. Suddenly a huge green fist smashes through one surface, threatening to burst out of the crate entirely. Either Igor's got a monster in the box, or his illegal Hulk Hands smuggling job is going poorly. Igor springs ahead and uses a syringe of some kind on the open hole in the crate. You can tell this is the '80s, since he managed to get that on the plane with him. The crate calms down and allows itself to be transported out to their car.

They try taking Igor to a hotel (conspicuously named the Karloff Inn), but Igor throws a fit when they won't take his Transylvanian money. Dude, I know your flight got in late, but you should've visited the currency exchange. That's on you, man. Since the hotel won't take him, they agree to put him and his crate up at their house. Igor insists on taking the crate up to the guest room with him. Fortunately, he's strong enough to make it an easy task. They all go to bed, and when they get up, there's a seven-foot green-skinned fellow at the breakfast table. Sounds like a typical Wednesday to me~

So this green fellow. He's exactly who you think he is, but what to call him? Well, this one is named Sigmund, but the brain is from a fellow named Fred. So he's called Sigmund Fred. Mostly the book just calls him Siggie, so that's what this review will do as well. But I will never, ever, ever, ever make a song about the Siggie. DJ Skip drops by, and he lets Igor and Siggie on his radio show so they can rant about how they were treated at the hotel. So at this point they're still debating how much of this is real or a publicity stunt. Even Mike's not sure--at least, until the enormous bat turns up in his room that night.

The bat, of course, quickly turns into a tall, pale man in a neat tuxedo. He introduces himself as "The Count" (and it's always just "the Count"), and assures Mike that he's not here to drink his blood. No, he's looking for hospitality. While Mike goes to clear it with his parents, the Count's coffin is delivered to the house. This is one of the funniest jokes in the whole book, because Stepdad Jeff thinks that vampires are more believable than a delivery service that operates at 3 AM. They set the Count up with a partitioned space in the basement.

At breakfast, it turns out that Siggie/Igor and the Count have a bit of a rivalry. They begin to fight at the breakfast table, both leading up to arguments of whose movies were worse. It only gets interrupted when the doorbell rings and the Creture from the Yucky Lagoon is standing there. We'll just be calling him Goony. Goony's appearance is a bit too convincing for anyone to think it's a costume anymore. (He even confesses they used to put a fake zipper on him for his movies.) And shortly after Goony moves in, someone else comes to the door. He's a perfectly ordinary-looking man, except for his large unibrow. After a comment from Igor, Mike realises he must be a werewolf. Where wolf? Here wolf.

The Mummy shows up overnight and off-screen, and Quasimodo (or "the Quaz" as the book decides to nickname him) also joins them further in the day. Skip invites the group out to dinner at a semi-formal restaurant called Chez Stadium. I see what you did there, Bruce. Anyway, as the group makes a toast to Mike and Kevver for hosting and judging the contest, and that's when Mike suddenly realises he's in deep shit. He's got to pick one of these monsters to make happy--and make the rest of them very angry. Mike tries to steer the conversation to their movies instead. This turns out to be a very bad idea.

Goony is a very sensitive sort and begins crying when teased at how bad his movies are (it's sadly true, one of them was even on Mystery Science Theater). This starts a long discussion and argument. The argument quickly turns physical, with all of the monsters rough-housing and throwing food. And of course, Myrna Smud is also at the restaurant, and she gets a faceful of it. Eventually, the police come and break it up. By the next day, Myrna has changed her BAM! campaign from "Billboards Are Monstrous" to "Ban All Monsters". Wasn't that a Godzilla film?

Hey, speaking of Godzilla, the doorbell rings again and delivers another package to Mike. Inside this one is a miniature, fire-breathing Tyrannosaurus. This is Gadzinga, star of those Japanese monster movies. Everyone knows they use miniatures in those films, right? Gadzinga talks very roughly, but fortunately not anything I would mark as stereotypical or racist. More of a Joey Wheeler Brooklyn accent, really. Which is... weird, but not questionable. They also make mention of a masked phantom in this scene, which is I think the only time it's mentioned. Anyway, to bolster their reputation, they decide to put in some appearances at the local schools.

This goes about as well as you're expecting. Actually, most of it goes pretty good. The Mummy talks to the history classes, Goony sits in on biology, and so forth. But then suddenly, all hell breaks loose. One classroom has cornered Igor, and he's not even a participant in the contest. He's more like Siggie's manager. Nevertheless, the kids are gonzo for Igor, mobbing him like a rockstar and demanding he sign stuff. I dunno, as a kid, I'd've gone for the Count myself. They manage to extricate him from the action, but the news crew catches it on film, leading Myrna Smud to talk more about "corrupting the youth" and "overstimulating the imagination".

And yet, it's finally time for the day of the contest. And of course, on the way there, there's a minor riot by Myrna Smud and her BAM squad. Lulu Toomaloo (who has been a major secondary character throughout, just not interesting enough to mention) actually grabs a megaphone and begins her own counter-protest. Essentially you have two sides shouting "we love monsters" or "ban all monsters" at each other. Eventually it boils over, and only ends up resolved when Kevver whips out their finale show-stopper: a mechanical flag that pops up and plays "The Star-Spangled Banner". Everyone's patriotism is stirred and resolves the issue. Nowadays, you'd think that'd only make things worse~

And now Mike has to make a decision. Struck with sudden inspiration, Mike begins a long speech about what it means to be a monster and how he's gotten to know each of these monsters and understand them over the course of the contest. But there's only one person present tonight to really exemplify what it means to be a monster, to have that ugliness inside and out. And that person is... Myrna Smud! Yes, who else is deserving enough of the title of Monster of the Year than someone who calls to ban a group of people from public appearances and declare they're ruining the children's minds. The other monsters look taken aback, but amusingly give their approval after a moment.

The book wraps up pretty quickly from there. Everyone decides not to sue each other. The monsters depart, keeping in touch with Mike and Kevver by mail. Turns out the whole contest did get them some publicity, and they're pulling in some new endorsement deals. Okay, boys, but if anyone tries to talk you into a "Dark Universe" series of movies, turn them down. It won't end well, I assure you. And the monsters themselves had so much fun tha they're willing to get together for a convention again each year. So watch out, because you never know if they'll host it in your town next~

This book is, honestly, pretty good. It’s one of Bruce Coville’s sillier works, which might also come from being one of his earlier works as well. And if you get down to it, it’s ultimately a story about treating folks with respect. It’s pretty much what all the monsters wanted, and why Myrna ended up worse than the lot of them. You could even argue Lulu fits a bit into that, in that no one likes her because she’s a terrible brat. I gave a very short summary of each scene because honestly it’s mostly a lot of back-and-forth dialogue, and that might be worth reading on your own~

And this Halloween, may you also open your home to the monsters that mean the most to you~

[alj4890]

Prompt Requests/Rachel Green Quotes Requests

(Thomas Hunt x OC*Amanda) with the prompts: "And now I'm just sitting here and thinking of all the stuff I should have said, and I didn't. I mean, I didn't even get to tell you that I love you too. Because of course I do. I love you." And "There's so much to do and I have so little time." As requested by Anonymous.

(Thomas x Amanda) in a Choices: Red Carpet Diaries/The Royal Romance followup fan fic to the one shot You Don't Know

A/N Delving back into that one shot where Amanda kept her feelings hidden from the two men she had secretly loved. I think it's time she let one know before it is too late.

@lxaah11​ @alleksa16​ @penguininapinktuxedo​ @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment   @hopefulmoonobject   @krsnlove   @annekebbphotography    @cora-nova  @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desireepow-1986 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @ab1901   @lolablackwrites   @flyawayboo @i-bloody-love-drake-walker . @trappedinfandoms @kate-mckenzie

Masterlist

Dream of You

"Here you go." Matt set a glass down on the bar. "One Rodriguez Rager."

Amanda warily eyed the tall glass filled to the brim. "What's in it?"

He winked at her. "A little of this and a whole lot of that." He pushed it toward her. "Come on. Live a little. It's a party."

Amanda looked over her shoulder. The combined bachelor/bachelorette party was in full swing. Hollywood's beloved power couple were separately making the rounds with everyone.

Jessica was the giddy party girl, bride-to-be.

Thomas, on the other hand, looked a good deal less happy than an expectant groom should.

The past few weeks in Hollywood, Amanda had observed how different the two were and how Thomas seemed more and more unhappy. Jessica wanted a more star quality lifestyle while Thomas seemed to want to remain in the background as much as possible. Arguments were occurring frequently and in front of others.

"I don't think Thomas likes parties as much as Jess does." Ryan remarked when he noticed where Amanda's attention was.

"He never did." She muttered before sipping her drink. Her eyes widened in surprise at how little she tasted the alcohol. "This is really good."

Matt gave a short bow. "Thank you. Careful. It packs quite a punch."

Amanda finished it quickly. "Would you make me another."

Matt hesistated. "Who's driving you back to the hotel?"

Amanda shrugged. "Thomas said he would." She pushed her glass toward him. "Another won't hurt." She flashed a playful smile. "I'm ready to live a little."

He relented and fixed her another.

************

Three hours later...

Jessica chewed on her bottom lip while reading the different texts Seth had sent her.

He wasn't taking the news of her marrying Thomas in a few days well at all.

"There you are." Thomas grumbled.

She quickly put her phone back in her pocket. The expression on his face told her everything. "Can you not have fun just once?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You've had parties nearly nonstop the past few months."

"Yeah, and you frowned throughout every single one of them." She snapped, rolling her eyes. "If you had your way, we would do nothing but sit at home every night."

"I enjoy being alone." He replied. "I've never enjoyed crowds."

"Why bother becoming famous if you don't like attention and parties?"

"I didn't set out to become famous. I set out to make movies." He replied in a bitter tone.

"I'm not doing this right now." She held her hand up when his lips parted to argue some more. "I'm not letting you ruin my party."

He stood there dumbfounded as she disappeared in the crowd.

Thomas grabbed a drink from a waiter passing by and sat down at a deserted table. His thoughts began to revolve around that niggling doubt that had grown more as the months went by.

His engagement had shown how little he and Jessica had in common. He knew opposites could attract and work, yet it was becoming apparent that they were too different.

"Hello there."

He looked up and couldn't help but smile at the flirty grin Amanda had on her face. "Good evening. Having a good time?" He asked.

"I am." She sat down beside him. She took a large swallow of her drink and giggled. "You're not."

He choked on his drink. "Am I that obvious?"

She exaggerated tilting her head and studied him. "Not really. But I know you."

"So you do." He watched her down the rest of her drink. "I don't think I've ever seen you truly drink at parties before."

"I don't." She confessed. She leaned closer to him. "But this drink tastes like apples." She lowered her voice as if revealing a secret. "Cordonians love apples."

His eyebrows lifted. "So I've heard." He tried to take away the drink a waiter placed before her, but she snatched it up.

"Thomas," Amanda averted her eyes. "There's something I need to get off my chest."

He stilled, worried he wasn't prepared to hear what she might say...worried how he might respond. "Amanda, you don't--"

"I hate Cordonian Ruby apples." She covered her mouth while her eyes grew large at admitting to such a blasphemy. "I prefer Honeycrisp and Golden Delicious."

He tried to keep from smiling. "I won't tell a soul."

She relaxed in her chair and lifted her new glass to her lips. "Thank you."

Thomas watched as she took another sip. "I think we might need to get some water in you."

She shook her head. "Matt's Ragers are the best. Hardly any effect." She swayed and nearly fell out of her seat.

Thomas steadied her. "I'll be sure to thank him for introducing them to you."

"Thomas," she startled him by standing up quickly. "Dance with me." She took his hand.

"What?" He stared up at her.

"We have never danced together." She tugged him out of his chair. "There's so much to do and I have so little time." Her smile dimmed. "We have to do this before it is too late."

"Too late?" He followed her toward the dance floor.

She turned around and slipped her arms around his neck. He placed his hands on her waist and moved to the slow beat.

"Just as I thought." She mumbled. "We fit."

"Beg your pardon?" He asked, watching the emotions flicker across her face.

"Height." She said with a sigh. "We fit height wise." Amanda's head dropped on his shoulder. "Perfectly."

Thomas's brow was furrowed as he held her. Something about her words made his mind think to other ways he had once thought made her an ideal fit in his life. That's how their friendship came about. But now, with the way she felt in his arms...

He stepped away from her. "I think I should take you back to your hotel."

She saluted him. "As you wish." She took a few steps forward and paused. "You don't have to take me." A playful smile appeared on her lips as she looked over her shoulder at him. "I can ask someone else."

His frown darkened at the thought of someone taking advantage of her inebriated state. He firmly grasped her arm and propelled her through the crowd. "I'm taking you."

"Thomas!"

He turned around, causing Amanda to fall back against him.

Jessica put her hands on her hips. "You're leaving? Without telling me?"

Amanda brushed the hair out of her eyes. "He's taking me," she let out a hiccup, "me home."

"I can't believe you." She ignored Amanda and focused her irritation on Thomas. "This whole night we've spent maybe ten minutes together and--"

"Don't talk to him like that." Amanda snapped, jerking her arm out of Thomas's grip. "He goes through all these things he hates to make you happy! Do you have any idea what I wouldn't give to have that?"

Jessica stared wide eyed at her.

"I dream of it." Amanda admitted. "Every freaking night, I dream of having him love me like he loves you." Her bottom lip trembled. "And you got it while I'm--" she trailed off and ran out the door.

Thomas and Jessica silently looked at one another for a charged moment.

"I have to go after her." He said quietly.

Tears sparked her eyes as she glanced down at her phone. "I need to go talk to Seth."

He nodded and paused when she slipped her engagement ring off.

"It was a nice dream." She whispered as she kissed his cheek.

He clutched the diamond ring. "It was." He left her standing there, calling for a car to be brought around.

*************

Two hours later...

"Here you are." The taxi driver pulled up to the Beverly Wilshire.

"Thank you." Amanda handed her a wad of hundred dollar bills. "Thanks for making the extra stops for me."

"Anytime." She smiled at Amanda and helped her out of the backseat. "You sure you're okay?"

"As okay as I'll ever be." She held the box of doughnuts out. "Take one for the road."

The driver chuckled and took one. "That guy you love,"

Amanda waited on her to finish.

"You should tell him." She waved goodbye and drove off.

Amanda sighed and walked into the hotel's quiet lobby. She stepped into the elevator and watched as the numbers flashed. Her mind wandered to how she could ever admit to loving Thomas.

She began to hum the song, "All I Do Is Dream of You," as the numbers creeped closer to the fourteenth floor.

She stepped out when the doors opened, singing to herself. "...you're every thought, you're everything, you're every song I--THOMAS!"

He had his arms folded as he stood in front of her door. "Where. Have. You. Been?"

Amanda looked down. "I..." The box of doughnuts in her hands began to shake. "I took a taxi and got doughnuts."

He stepped aside and motioned for her to open the door. She handed him the box and unlocked it. He silently followed her inside.

"Can I get you anything?" She stumbled back and fell sideways into an oversized chair when she saw how angry he was.

"It took you two hours to get doughnuts?" He asked with gritted teeth.

"I--they were freshly made." She flinched at the glare he leveled on her.

"Do you have any idea how worried I have been? How many times I called you?"

She bit her lip. "Sixteen."

"What?!" He snapped.

"Sixteen." She repeated. "You called sixteen times."

Some of his anger turned to disbelief. He sat down across from her. "Why didn't you answer?"

She avoided looking at him. "What's the point?" She pushed herself out of the chair and went outside to the balcony. Some things were best said when there were other things to focus on.

Thomas followed her. "The point is that I have been worried something horrible had happened to you. You weren't in any shape to be alone and--"

"I'm always alone." Amanda softly interrupted. Her eyes finally met his. "No one worries about that unless I do something out of character. I had a few drinks and suddenly you were concerned. How many nights have I gone off by myself and you never batted an eye?"

"I didn't have to worry because I've always considered you as someone with a good deal of sense." He argued.

"Just what every woman wants to be known as. The sensible, calm, good natured, always laughing Amanda." She laughed bitterly. "The friend to everyone."

Thomas stepped closer. "Amanda, where is this coming from?"

"From me!" She shouted, her words echoing out over the city. "This is who I am." Her voice cracked. "There's so much I keep to myself and I'm tired of it. What good has it done me?"

He reached out for her hand. "Amanda--"

"It's not some drunken mishap. I'm in love with you." She confessed. "I've loved you and wished so hard that someday you would see me. Me. Not the ever smiling duchess. Not the author. Just me."

Amanda ignored the tears falling down her cheeks. "I know I have the worst timing known to mankind but the drinks I had let it slip and here we are." She looked down at the street below. "I'm so sorry for telling you this days before you marry Jessica." She closed her eyes tight. "I want you to be happy and if she brings you the love and joy you deserve then I will--" she swallowed. "I will accept that."

Thomas stood next to her and stared at the city lights. He didn't know how to appropriately respond to her heartfelt words. Her timing is indeed unfortunate, he thought.

She finally glanced at his face. "Thomas?"

"Jessica broke off our engagement." He told her.

"Oh no." Amanda's hands covered her mouth. "I'm so--I'll go tell her I was drunk and that you and I--"

"She's still in love with Seth." He interrupted. His dark eyes met her heartbroken hazel. "We wanted different things in life. It wouldn't have been a happy marriage."

Amanda's shoulders slumped. "What a rotten party."

"Most usually are." He snorted at the irony. "I've known for a while things weren't right." He shrugged. "It was bound to implode at some point. I'm grateful it happened before we went through with marriage."

"And on top of everything, you had me to complicate it even more." Amanda muttered. She knew she was no help to him now. She couldn't be. Not after all she had said.

"I'm going to go back to Cordonia tomorrow." She gently placed her hand over the one he had resting on the railing. "If you ever need a friend, I promise to be that for you. I won't ever bring up," she blinked back the tears, "bring up what I revealed tonight."

Thomas quietly watched her walk back inside with her head held high. Once she was out of sight, he reached in his pocket and took Jessica's ring out. He gripped it in his fist before throwing it off the balcony and into the night.

Without another word, he left Amanda's room and returned to his home. As he laid in his empty bed, he began to think of what he truly wanted in his life.

***********

Two months later...

"Your grace?" Hudson knocked on the open study door.

"Yes?" Amanda had her head bent as she reviewed a column of figures.

"You have a visitor." He waited on her response.

"Hmm? Oh. Show them into the drawing room. I'll be there shortly." She replied absentmindedly.

"Very good, your grace." He bowed and left the room.

A short time later, Amanda stepped into her drawing room. "Forgive me, I needed...to..." She stopped in her tracks when she saw Thomas standing before her fireplace.

His expression remained unreadable. "Hello Amanda."

She wasn't sure how to greet him after what had happened. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed a break from Hollywood?" He replied, deciding to withhold the true reason until he gaged her feelings.

"Oh." She dropped her eyes and motioned for him to sit down. "I'm sorry. It must be difficult for you since Jessica eloped with Seth." She prepared him a drink and brought it over. Uncertain of whether or not she should sit on the sofa with him, she went back to the liquor cabinet get a drink for herself.

"It would be if she had been the one I loved." Thomas lowered his eyes to his drink, unsure how to proceed.

Amanda's head jerked up from pouring a glass of water. "So you're not," she hesistated.

He quirked an eyebrow in question. "Heartbroken?"

She nodded.

"No. Not at all." He answered. "In fact, I was a guest at their wedding ceremony."

"What?!" Amanda covered her mouth when Hudson rushed in at her outburst. She quickly dismissed him. "Sorry. I'm just--"

"Shocked?" Thomas offered.

"Yes." She admitted. "I don't know if I could do that. Not after being so close to marrying the person."

He shrugged. "I knew I wasn't the one for her." He cleared his throat after a few beats of awkward silence. "Would you care to go for a walk?"

"A what--walk? Right now?" She glanced at the mantle clock. It was half past nine in the evening.

"I came straight here from the airport." He explained. "I wouldn't mind stretching my legs after that long flight nor having your company."

She set her glass down. "Then let's get to it." Amanda grimaced when he couldn't see her face. It was as if she had forgotten how to talk to him. Let's get to it? Really?

They walked in compaionable silence across the grounds, stopping in the gazebo. They sat down on one of the padded benches, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

Thomas leaned forward and clasped his hands, wondering how to bring up the topic he had thought of constantly for the past two months.

Amanda gently touched his back. "Thomas? You seem worried." She was afraid to voice if it was her confession that had rendered him so hesistant.

"I suppose I am." He turned his head toward her. "I'm at a loss of where to even begin."

Her hand dropped back into her lap. "We don't have to talk." A tentative smile formed. "It's nice seeing you again."

He ran a hand down his jaw. "I've missed you." His dark eyes met hers. "I've missed talking to you."

"I have too." Her leg began to shake up and down. She rubbed her hand along her thigh, trying to still the telltale sign

"Why is this so hard?" He grumbled.

She knew why. It was all her fault. He couldn't talk to her anymore because of her admission debacle. "Thomas, I--"

"I can't ask if you've met someone." He blurted out. "Knowing that if you have, then it's my own fault for remaining silent."

"Met someone?" She whispered in disbelief.

"And now I'm just sitting here and thinking of all the stuff I should have said, and I didn't. I mean, I didn't even get to tell you that I love you too. Because of course I do. I love you." He sat up straight and turned completely toward her. "Every moment since that night of the party, I have regretted not telling you what I was blind to."

She couldn't speak. How should she respond?

"I stayed away to make certain it was true and not some knee-jerk reaction to realizing that Jessica and I weren't right together." He placed his arm along the back of the bench, gently brushing his fingertips against her shirt. "I understand if you have decided to move on or--"

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Her fingers brushed his jaw then slid into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Thomas crushed her to him as his lips moved over hers. He deepened the kiss, feeling all the sparks he didn't know were possible build into an inferno.

"I love you." She said a touch breathlessly. "I haven't stopped." She pressed her forehead to his. "I tried." Her smile peeped out. "I might as well have tried to keep the moon from appearing."

He groaned with the passion of her kiss after such a declaration. He spoke once more of his love for her while pressing kisses along the curve of her neck. He lifted his head and smiled softly at her. "Would you like to give us a chance? See what comes next?"

She nodded. "I would." She kissed him tenderly. "More than anything."

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

Siren valentine's (pt. 2)- Dean Winchester x reader

A\N: let me know if you want a part 3. heres’s part 1. and yes it was posted over an year ago and i only finished it now, shut up.

You looked in the mirror, debating which necklace to wear with the outfit you picked. It was something a bit fancy but still comfortable so you can kick someone in case it's needed. You ended up choosing one with a small rose that had a leaf next to it. Simple but noticeable. You finished up your outfit with some nice shoes and just when the clock hit 21:15, your phone started ringing. “hey, (y/n). It's Dean. I'm here” the voice on the other line said. “I'm coming” you said, pausing. “love” you added, teasing him. You could practically hear the eye roll, which made your smile turn into a laugh.

Dean was waiting for you, leaning on a black Impala. He was wearing a green button up with the two first buttons open under a leather jacket, and dark jeans. The green shirt made his eyes pop, and you admitted to yourself he looks pretty darn good. His eyes scanned you from the bottom to the top. “Nice” he smiled, and opened the door for you. You went inside the car and looked around until he sat next to you in the driver's seat. ���The necklace is cute, but i have one i brought for you” he said. He reached his hand to open the glove compartment, opened it and pulled a black box. He gave you the box, and you opened it. “Wow” was the first word to escape your mouth at the beautiful necklace. The symbol that was carved on the gym stone. "It's to reject monsters and demons and crap like that, should keep you safe. The siren won't be able to hurt you if you keep that around your neck" he said as he took the necklace you had off, and took the one he brought from your hands and clipped it around your neck.

The ride was quiet, if you count blasting Kansas as quiet. You arrived to Tony's, got inside and took a seat. "Now, you are here for cover, so please, stay away when me and Sam take that bitch down, okay? I don't want you getting hurt" Dean said, sipping on his beer. "Oh, you care about me, love?" You said, resting your hand on his. He took another sip and rolled his eyes. "Don't take it personally, I just want monsters dead, not humans. Even annoying humans such as you" he smiled, "love". "So, what's the plan exactly?" You asked. "Well, the siren is right here, when they'll call her to stage, me and Sam will grab her and kill her," Dean says. "And how is Sam getting in?" You asked. "Well, he is… getting in. Somehow" Dean replied, looking around. “Yeah, but how?” you ask again, and Dean admits he has no clue.

TIme barely moves, and Sam was nowhere to be seen. Dean was decent company, if you enjoy listening to how he and his brother killed monsters. He was telling you about one shapeshifter they ran into, until the host of the evening went on stage and a horrifying microphone screech cut him off. “Now we welcome to stage our beloved guest,  Sierra Stone” The man said, he was wearing a velvet tuxedo in a shade of red that went nicely with the light pink collared shirt he had on. It had those flared lines down the middle, very 60s-70s disco, and very host-like. Dean looked at the man with such obvious shock. “This is… god, who’s saving the world from that?” he muttered, and you laughed at the comment. Dean got up, however Sam seemed to disappear. “Whoo, Sierra Stone!” DEan called in an attempt to get Sam out of his hiding spot. You got up as well, clapping. Soon enough everyone followed. “Well, looks like i’m your companion for this” you whispered, and Dean sighd, grabbing your hand and dragging you through the crowd. 

You and Dean jumped on stage. “Well well, if it isn’t the second winchester…” Sierra said. She was gorgeous. Her tall figure took a few steps toward you and your “date”. “What have you done to Sam?” Dean muttered, furius. “Well, nothing, just sang him a little song that goes something like this” Sierra replied and took the microphone out of the stand, signing the host to leave the stage as she started singing.

“Finally it has happened to me right in front of my face and \ I just can not hide it \ Meeting Mr. Right, the man of my dreams \ The one who shows me true love, or at least it seems” she started, and the piano joined in. she was good. “Do you know the song?” Dean asked, looking around. “No” you replied, “but it is actually kinda good”. He sighed. “I can't believe i’m doing this” he sighed, and grabbed a microphone. He shook your hand, pulling you to a sort of hug. “I trust you” he whispered. You felt a knife handle in your hand.

“Finally you've come along \ The way I feel about you, it just can't be wrong \ If you only \ knew the way I feel about you \ I just can't describe it, oh no no” he joined in on her singing, and to say you were shocked is an understatement. He nodded at your direction, pointing at your hand. You looked at the knife, then back at him. He held SIerra's hand and twirled her around. “Finally it's happened to me \ Right in front of my face \ My feelings can't describe it…” they kept singing, and you snuck behind her. You had to time it correctly. You never thought you’d be the one to stab someone in the back, but there you were. You learned the lyrics as you got ready to kill your first monster. “You have to stab her in the neck, destroy her vocal cords and leave her powerless” Dean said earlier, when the two of you were talking earlier about the plan and the family business.

“It seems so many times \ He seemed to be the one \ But all he ever wanted was to have a little fun \ But now you've come along \ And brightened up my world \ In my heart I feel it \ I'm that special kind of girl” their voices worked so well together, and the crowd was thrilled. Dean was a handsome guy, and even though the siren knew he was not on her side, she had to act natural. Her weapon was her voice, but it didn’t seem to affect the boy as it did his brother, who passed out in her dressing room. He was supposed to get in dressed as a bodyguard, but the bodyguards the siren already had knew who he was.

“Finally you've come along \ The way I feel about you, it just can't be wrong \ If you only knew the way I feel about you \ I just can't describe it, oh no no” they sang, and you planned. You practiced the stabbing motion secretly, sneaking around behind the curtain that was in the back of the stage. ”It would be a shame to ruin her dress” you thought to yourself. Her dress was long, black, and had a slit on the right side. Lucily, her hair was up and her neck was perfectly there. All she had to do was just--

“Finally it's happened to me \ Right in front of my face \ My feelings can't describe it \ Finally it's happened to me \ Right in front of my face \ And I just can not  hide it” --Boom. Someone dragged you down. It was one of the body guards. You managed to get up and kick him in the groin, but the other bodyguards were still making their way toward you. You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder and you almost kicked his leg in order to make him fall, until you noticed it was sam. “I’ll take the bodyguard, you take the siren” Sam Said. “God, where the hell is Dean?” Sam added as he marched toward the body guards.

“Finally it's happened to me \ Right in front of my face \ My feelings can't describe it \ Finally it's happened to me \ Right in front of my face \ And I just can not hide it \ Finally \ Oh, finally” you got closer and closer. Dean noticed you and got closer to Sierra, making sure she stays in place. He did it so smoothly, the Siren didn’t suspect a thing. You raised your hand, adjusting the grip on the knife. Dean took the microphone away from the siren and started to walk farther to the right of the stage.  And, Boom. the siren crashed on the floor, bleeding.

“Finally you've come along \ The way I feel about you, it just can't be wrong..” Dean sang all by himself, moving away so that the crowd won’t pay attention to the murder they just  kind-of-wittnessed. However, it didn’t work.

“If you only knew the way I feel about you \ I just can't describe it, oh no no” he kept going, looking at you as you stood there, then you remembered the plan. Kill, bow, replace. So you bowed, making the crowd thinking it was all a part of the show. The dramatic beginning helped, but you knew you had to keep your plan going. 

“Finally it's happened to me \ Right in front of my face \ My feelings can't describe it \ Finally it's happened to me \ Right in front of my face \ And I just can not hide it“ Sam walked on stage and started dragging the body off-stage as you ran toward Dean, took the microphone and joined in.

“ Finally it’s happened to me \ Right in front of my face \ My feelings can't describe it” you were done with the song, and the crowd clapped. You took a bow, “let’s get the hell out of here and never speak of this again” Dean whispered, taking your hand for a second bow and then dragging you away from the stage.

Sam joined you and Dean in the Impala. He had to put the body in the car’s garage. “Who was the guy She sang with? He was not good” Sam said. “Well i think he did a great job” Dean defended himself, and you suddenly realised the power you have over him. “You know who else did a great job?” Sam said, “(y\n). Not bad at all”. “Thanks, so like, what’s our next adventure?” you asked, leaning on the seat in front of you, which was Dean’s. “Oh, no” Dean said, “you were great, but we don’t do trios” Dean said, “it’s a family business”.  “Well, she is your girlfriend” Sam poked at him. “Yeah, come on Dean, i know i’m not perfect at this, but tonight was… really special, wasn’t it?” you said, moving your hand up and down his arm in a semi flirty manner, but he knew what you meant, and he really didn’t want Sam to know about his guilty pleasure.. “Okay, you’re in” he said, tapping on your hand and moving it back, pressing the paddle. “Let’s get you home tp pack”.

[bladekindeyewear]

Boots reads Homestuck Epilogue(s) Part 6 - Meat Page 16

==>  (Whoa, went a long while before splitting posts, there.  Dangerous, with how often I’ve lost stuff to Tumblr page reloads in the past.)

Oh, you’ve realized Zazzerpan’s relevance as foreshadowing for the trolls or whatever, Rose?

Oh my god, PLEASE don’t put Rose inside a fucking robot.  >:|

Oh SHIT wait.  That one wizard Roxy named her cat after who wanted all the knowledge in the world, got overloaded and then crushed by the giant textbook or whatever???  That’s disturbingly Rose-similar here.  D:

Rose, puns.  Please.

Hm, you think it applies to you all now instead of the trolls?  Huh.  Do you think some of you might become villains and get Just deaths?

..Huh, wait.  Numerological significance?  Are we actually learning what 413 means?  Or learning that it was meant to be bullshit all along instead?  I’m “Hmmm”ing loudly either way...

Ow, ouch.  So a Light player wasn’t designed to properly live outside of canon significance, or??

Ooh.  She’s not sure that if she opens herself up to all the knowledge of her other selves, that it’d be “her” anymore.  A pretty legitimate fear... and one Dirk is perfectly disposed to disabuse her of.  As a Heart player, he’d understand better than most that the entire combination of one’s various states over all timelines IS you, and the unique direction your will and uniqueness embodies across whatever it touches.  Or something.

...Wait, wait a minute.  Before I keep reading........ I didn’t actually CLICK the candy button yet.  What if Candy just redirects to AO3 or something.  Like, the candy bit is all of our fanfics.  Oh jeez.

Okay reading on before that possibility drives me insane.

DIRK: I’m not sure anyone should be allowed to have that much foresight. Especially a guy like me.

...Mhmm, especially since in part that’s how we got Doc Scratch, yeah.

Reading to the end of this page, and........

Yeah, what the FUCK just happened.

So... is this Dirk BEING a villain?  Doing some sort of weird almost cherubic Eye thing to kind of supplant Rose as he becomes a Scratch-like fanfic narrator or... Let me reread these last few paragraphs a couple times...

Is he really sort of “puppeteering” Rose?  Is this like the birth of a god-tier villain or just a temporary respite he’s giving her sort of underhandedly for an actual good cause to help her out of her situation??  Or is “death” or a death of the self the actual solution he had for her mess???  I mean... the metatextual awareness bit that he’s speaking through in the last sentence is clearly something like what comes of ascending completely and going beyond the story to be able to write it like Caliborn or Doc Scratch might or... y’know what, fuck it.  I’ll understand it in later pages.  I have to keep reading if this is going to make sense to me.

This next button better not lead straight back to the fucking selection screen again.

==>

Oh shit, a giant Dirk section.  Only fitting that he might have been writing most of this all along possibly.

Undercurrent of narrative significance.  Oh shit.  Is he going to go off about Light, about the story parts not mattering?  Or that the fact that this IS a story and... from what I accidentally skimmed in sentences below before reading further, how we’re trapping them in a story by reading it or something???  Hence the idea that their existences are being “blighted” by the subtext of narrative significance, and would be better FREE of it?

Huh.  Is this really going to work?  As, like... a body slam of people who were too caught up in the forest of narrative purpose to see into the trees of the point he wanted to make with the finale?  It’s practically Andrew talking to the audience from within the story about their frustrations, heh.

Yeah, this whole rant is pretty awesome so far.  I forgot to mention it a few paragraphs ago, but when you look at the story list, the Epilogues are listed as “stories of dubious authenticity”, so is this whole thing like... how DIRK might have written the ending out?  Just to emphasize further that this whole thing is kind of pointless compared to the infinite possibility that was the reward for their escape from the confines of such story-stuff?

Cool.  Sounds like we’re seeing the “good end” that Dirk would have written for this story if he were to write one that still answers plotlike questions, or something similar to it.  That and/or he’s also engineering things in-canon -- or as “canon” as the victory planet is -- to follow all this for the end result he has in mind, and it comes across as practically Doc Scratch-y in the way it ties in metatextual awareness and stuff.  Either way, it DOES feel like Andrew might successfully be making his point.

==>

Pff.  This is going to be a bit interesting.  And, of course, unstuck-in-canon John can hear the narrator speaking.

And now John has ANOTHER story to get annoyed at the narrator of, heh.

The tooth is poisoned? Really? Did you just make that up or?

Okay, why suddenly the wallet, fanfic writer? Is he going to find touching pictures or just captchalogue the black hole?

This is all starting to feel a whole lot less serious, and I can’t help but figure that’s the intent.

==>

Pff, back to the B plot.  Yay Jade!  --Please don’t be metatextually aware like John and let’s get more actual story.

Phew, seems to be the case

...Is Karkat going to remake this post-scarcity society to be more Communist? Is that where we’re going here?

Alright, Roxy’s gonna be all voidy and Neutral and not want an impact on the election, from the sound of it?

GAAAHHH Jade is in love with all her friends and afraid of being alone.  AAAH FEELS

--Oh huh, so because Jane’s been in the distance putting on the Perfect act she thinks she has to pull, she’s gone down in her friends’ opinions even if that isn’t really her???  That’s pretty reassuring as an alternative, actually.  Leave it to Roxy to see everything crystal goddamn clear as usual.

Ooh, pronoun mishap.

Holy SHIT Roxy’s gonna go along with it.  That’s nonbinary-awesome!  And Dirk’s just fucking flabbergasted, I love it.

Pff, Dirk’s screwing it up outside too

yep, everyone ectobiologically had kids with everyone, really.

Oh, ow.  Something about the whole black hole green sun thing is fucking with her.  That, or, like...  Huh, might the whole metatextual ascension thing mean that she actually BECOMES that other Jade floating about for a hot minute, the one in the A-side plot??

==>

Ow this excellent narrative is pretty painful.  Like, empathetically inducing pain through really good description of pain and angst.  Ow.

Oh shit, alt!Calliope has a plan.  Maybe she’s able to use this black hole to re-begin Paradox Space and close the loop once everything’s absorbed or something, and needs a Jade’s help for it?

==>

Phew, some relative silliness with some of the others.  That vivid description of a Jade’s suffering was starting to give my stomach a cramp.  Actually, ANY vivid description of Jade’s suffering gives my stomach a cramp.  Or any allusion to it, even, heck even without WORDS.  I saw a Jadey song redux show up on my Youtube dashboard a few nights ago and had to turn it off after less than thirty seconds because I was about to throw up listening to the tune and staring at the image from my stomach clenching SO HARD.  I am WAY too attached to Jade in particular to tolerate her suffering without serious emotional feedback on my part.

Okay, breathe.  Breathe deeply, and keep reading...

....PFF, yes, Karkat.  Finally acknowledge it’s disgusting.  Birth is disgusting from any species really.

Yaaaay Kanaya! :)

Pfffff, Dave does record scratches with his hands mid-conversation like a fucking dab.  He would.

KANAYA: I Am Impressed That You Managed To Be Seen In Front Of That Many People Without Spontaneously Bursting Into Flames

I’m laughing

We internalize and project the quality in very different ways, however, which is why I’m going to win.

Win?!????

Win WHAT, the election???  Is that your only grand plan or... I mean fuck, way to be Doc-Scratch-like ominous!  Reading on...

...Yeah, Feferi was definitely a proto-Fascist too.  :)

Oh, huh. “Power Corrupts In Small Steps”... is this whole President thing going to be a big-ass metaphor for gaining your God powers without abusing them?? And pointing out that Jane is hella abusing her status in a way that COULD become villainous if it goes too far?  Victory is supposed to give you the ability to create a universe, but you’re not necessarily supposed to lord over it with an iron fist...

KARKAT: WHEN I HEAR ABOUT HOW HUMAN GRUBS CHEW THEIR WAY OUT OF THE FEMALE MATESPRIT’S ABDOMINAL HOLE BEFORE CONSUMING THE WOMB MEMBRANE IT MAKES ME WANT TO VOMIT.

Pffffffff

KANAYA: He Is Beloved In The Troll Kingdom For His Perky Ass DAVE: seriously? KARKAT: I TOLD YOU IT’S NOT JUST ME! KANAYA: It Has Some Terrible Arcane Power KANAYA: I Have Never Seen Anything Like It

I am laughing out loud here

pff dave’s doubtlessly imagined this at least as much as the rest of us

YESSS make fun of ship names some more, especially the ship names I’m not a fan of even though I’m such a fan of the pairing :D

KANAYA: Im Going To Call My Wife And You Are Going To Stop Talking

Why do I love that sentence so much.  Is it just because it has the word wife in it.  Probably.

At the other side of the cavern, Dave and Karkat bicker about what their combo kids would look like, in the event that they decided to stop being such laughable wusses and began fornicating like two cartoon animals of different species who have given into their lust.

Pffff.  Yeah, Dirk would put it that way.

Pffffff.  Not as adept at handling all sides of the story at the same time as you were as part of Doc, eh?

==>

Reading reading reading... Oh, adorable, he tried to slip a fish pun into Meenah’s name but couldn’t think of one.

...Oh SHIT, is he going to give Meenah the ring of life she wanted??? :D

Oh pff, that works too.  :D

==>

Okay, time for maybe at least a SLIGHT explanation of whatever the FUCK Dirk might have or might not have done to Rose or something????

...Huh.  What exactly are you trying to “fix” about Kanaya and Rose’s relationship, Dirk?  Something that didn’t fix itself with just the two of them together?

I mean...... Rose’s substance abuse never fixed itself when it was just two of them together on the first-run meteor.  And she’s been taking pills and trying to stave off her destiny out of fear while her wife hasn’t really been digging into her insecurities... I mean maybe he has a point.

SHADOWS around her??????  D:

==>

Yeah yeah, John drifting.  I just remembered what one of those “server beacons” they were mentioning actually is, too, visually.  Knowing it had an escape route helped.

What are you even gonna do with the slippers, gift them to Terezi when she comes flying in?  (Also, right, just remembered he’s a Breath player so it’s only natural that he actually finds whatever there is to find “coincidentally” around here, like that wallet.)

Ooh, you REALLY were thinking about Terezi over the past years from the sound of it.  And here she is or whatever.  :)

1 C4N ST1LL TOUCH TYP3 1N H3R L33T SP34K W1THOUT 4NY 4SS1ST4NC3 3XC3PT C4PS LOCK ON 4FT3R 4LL TH3S3 Y34RS  >:]

==>

Okay okay okay wait.  Her shadow is talking??? Is this, like... Jungian shadow stuff? Inversion shadow stuff?  What the fuck is going on.  It better not be Inversion-related.

Let me read that again.

Her shadow has faded to light behind her, assuming the shape of a Rose-like apparition. I nod to her, and she continues. When she speaks, it’s almost as if it’s the apparition that’s doing the talking.

That’s weird and I don’t entirely know what it means. I’d better just keep fucking reading.

Fun philosophical banter.  I didn’t know what “Hegelian dialectics” were until I read some big rant on someone’s Fallout New Vegas playthrough earlier last month.

ROSE: I think free will is a thing, sure. DIRK: Are you sure about that? ROSE: ... DIRK: Haven’t we spent the entire day having a feelings jam on how none of us got here by accident?

Ah, here we’re going with some Ultimate Riddle-y stuff.

Or wait, are we adding a bit on to that concept now?  Because it now seems like a large PART of the Ultimate Riddle stuff I covered (FUCK dropbox for breaking all the images) that might be revealed in this part of the damn epilogue is the whole the-only-way-to-have-true-free-will-is-to-escape-the-narrative-imposed-on-us or something along with the rest of it.

Hm, that whole “become One God” bit that Dirk ranted about in the beginning of one of the John sections... is that his ambition here?  I didn’t comment on the rantparagraph earlier because the “one” part of it threw me as possibly just some philosophical stuff he was musing about, but it’s like... I mean Dirk is the narrator right now, and it sounds like he wants to *BE* the narrator.  Like, become the one truly in control of this whole story.  With his orange Andrew-colored text or whatever.  Is that what he meant by “win”, winning control of the entire narrative, turning everyone else in the story into mere extensions of himself that he was “writing” by virtue of being the only author?

And him getting thwarted in that task, showing that it’s better if there really is NO narrator and the characters can do whatever they imagine in infinite branches and our imaginations, is the victory that proves the point of the story.  Or something.  Hmm.

Also, huh.  Like... I mean that IS a natural extension of a Prince of Heart if he were to turn to villainy.  A grand ambition to destroy everyone’s individuality until they’re nothing but Himself.  Right?

DIRK: Your Ultimate Self, that which is revealed when the mind’s partitions are stripped away, and all potentiality of who you are and what you could have been flow together. DIRK: Those are the experiences and processes that are refusing to stay bundled, that’s what your body can’t endure. The unbundling itself is your mind coming apart. DIRK: Because you’re not as strong as me. Not yet. DIRK: But you can be. DIRK: I’m working on that.

Because she’ll “BE” you?  Because you’ll be everyone?  Hm.

DIRK: But for now, I’m focused on stabilizing you with my own expanding consciousness. DIRK: It’s enveloping you now, in a way you can’t see. Keeping your thoughts solid, your identity anchored to your physical form as it strains to hold itself together. DIRK: You can’t see it, what I’m talking about. But I can help you. DIRK: I can help you see what I see, if only for a little while. DIRK: All you have to do is open your eyes. DIRK: Maybe what you see will help you through this.

Okay so maybe this all ain’t TOTALLY fucking sinister.  Just partially.  Hmm.

I’m not going to describe what she sees. First of all, that would be spoiling it. Unless you already know, in which case, I guess what’s taking place here qualifies as something closer to dramatic irony. But if you really want to see it for yourself, stop what you’re doing, flip the whole thing over, and begin again. I’ll be right here when you get back, waiting. Trust me, no one’s going anywhere.

Hahahahah.  So the candy part IS written.  I mean I was pretty sure, but it’s nice to have it acknowledged here.  Pretty awesome.  I won’t stop here to read it, I’ll get to the candy part eventually as a nice dessert.

All she needs is a nudge in the right direction.

We’re family. We belong together. And after years of micromanaging the inconsistent and confused desires of total imbeciles, wouldn’t it be a relief to have someone by my side who understood me?

Stop being so incestuous.  Dirk, you’re just getting off on the CONCEPT of incest being part of the flavor of all this, aren’t you.  That’s why you kept pushing things this way, you want it to be as uncomfortable as possible.

...wait, yeah he’s just talking about being a metatextual ascended, isn’t he.

Her body should be dead now.

I’M SORRY WHAT THE FLYING FUCK.

And Rose has... what, ascended but somehow given in to Dirk’s puppeteering of existence, or?  Ugh.

Next post, I wanna keep reading already to get through all this bullshit.  Then once I’ve figured it all out, I can rest comfortably back with the Candy side which Rose practically just promised me is potentially TOO SUGARY which is really enticing as a prospect.

[jennifercrowart]

D&D Diary - The Yawning Rodent, 2

Refresher: After meeting the friendly ratfolk of the Yawning Rodent tavern and the Rat's Nest, and travelling through the Underdark caves and fighting off a few twig blights and giant spiders, our adventurers Lugs (grung Barbarian), Lurks (grung Rogue), Aelia (tiefling Cleric) and Valas (drow Sorcerer) have arrived at the foot of the Sunless Citadel.

Sunless Citadel spoilers!

The party stands in front of the courtyard of the Sunless Citadel. Lurks heads through it first while the others hold back, and he dextrously makes his way through all the rubble. When he reaches the front door of the citadel, he suddenly falls through a trapdoor! In the pit is a few goblin skeletons, and a fresher goblin corpse being picked away at by a giant spider, which he dispatches with one slice of his dagger. After Lurks takes some coins, a scimitar for himself, and a shield for Lugs from the fresh body, Lugs hurries over and leans into the pit with his club to offer him a way to climb out (considering he's only 3-4 feet tall in the 10 foot pit). Remembering that he's a frog, Lurks just does a straight 15 foot vertical jump out and lands next to him.

The party edges around the newly-discovered trapdoor, and into the citadel's first room: the floor of a circular tower. More dead goblins are here, with one of them skewered to the wall, and all the bodies have already been looted. There's a door to the left and a door to the right, and Lurks quickly looks over them for any traps or locks, but they're fine.

The party splits up to find that the right door leads into a hallway with three more doors ahead, and the left door leads into a room with a single stone door sporting an ornately carved rearing dragon on it, a keyhole in its mouth. The rooms so far have been as dark as the caves outside, and littered with rubble and cobwebs - Lugs and Lurks keep relying on their stock of torches, while Aelia and Valas cope alright with their darkvision.

Lurks, with Aelia, tries to pick the left room's dragon door, but can't quite get it. Lugs, with Valas in the hallway, tries one of the doors to find an empty dead-end room, and another door that's also made of stone, with a carving of a swimming fish-like dragon on it. With this second dragon door also locked, he tries to punch it down, but just ends up with a sore hand. Lurks and Aelia regroup with them in the hallway, and Lurks has a go at picking this dragon door too, but his pick easily snaps. He unfurls his set of tools and squints, saying that his mismatched set of twig lockpicks "worked on the doors back home" but don't seem to cut it in here.

The party tries the third and last door at the end of the hallway, finding it unlocked. Inside is a larger open room with a small fire pit, bedroll, and a large empty cage in the floor with bars that have been wrenched open. Green paint is all over the floor and walls, in a written language that none of them can understand. Whimpering sounds are coming from the bedroll, with something tossing and turning restlessly inside. When the party talks as normal, the thing inside it seizes up, as though trying to be as still as possible. Lugs tips the bedroll upside down, and out slides a skinny-looking kobold covered in scars, who had been sleeping inside.

Terrified and confused by this sudden awakening, the kobold starts begging for his life, saying that his name is Meepo. Aelia manages to calm him down saying they're not here to hurt him, while Lurks investigates the cage and finds some white dragon-like scales that seem to have been scraped off when whatever was once inside the cage squeezed through the wrenched-open bars. Meepo sees the scales in his hands and starts crying out in distress that his gang's beloved dragon had been stolen by the rival Goblin Gang while he was taking a piss, and begs the adventurers to get her back in exchange for his leader, Yusdrayl, answering the questions Aelia and Lurks had tried asking him about the Sunless Citadel.

Before he leads them to Yusdrayl, Valas asks if Meepo can tell them where the doors branching from this room go. He explains that behind one door is where they would keep the dragon's food, and Valas nervously asks, "is it still... living?" to which Meepo replies that of course it is, "because live feeding is great and ethical". Valas awkwardly quips under his breath that he's heard otherwise, but politely thanks him for the information. Through another door is a way to the goblin gang's territory, and through yet another door is one of the Kobold Gang's guardrooms. He also explains that the painted writing around the room says "Here There Be Dragons", but, sniffling, he sadly picks up his paint and brush to correct it to "Here There Don't Be Dragons".

Aelia asks if they can go into the guardroom, and Meepo comments that that's a bit weird, unsure why she'd want to. Eventually she convinces him, and he shouts, "ticklecorn! Let us in!" at the door. After a moment, the door opens to reveal three kobold guards playing a card game by a fire pit. Aelia asks them a few questions, but they're not very cooperative.

"Where were you when the dragon was stolen?" "Uh... I don't know, having a piss." "Why don't you go get it back?" "Erm... then... who would guard this place?" "Are there more guards?" "Well, yeah........ but...... ehhh..."

Finding the guards useless, the group has Meepo take them to where Yusdrayl, the Kobold Gang leader, is sitting in a stone dragon throne at the end of a large hall. She's dressed in robes with a ring on one of her hands, and in front of a small pile of treasures. Aelia, with GP signs in her eyes, tries to make a deal with her, as Aelia favours gold over dragons, and Yusdrayl favours her dragon over gold. After a bit of bargaining, the party strikes a deal with her to find their dragon in exchange for four of the treasures from her pile, with the first one in advance. They choose the mysterious-looking key that's in the mouth of the stone dragon - the Kobold Gang hasn't been occupying the citadel long enough to have found out which door it opens, focusing more on taking and holding their territory from the Goblin Gang. Meepo is to go with them to find the dragon, as he's the gang's 'keeper of dragons'.

Before they leave, Lurks introduces himself to Yusdrayl and treats her with reverence, offering his hand out to her. Yusdrayl awkwardly shakes his hand, and he slyly inspects the ring on her finger; he decides that the simple silver ring is not worth enough to pickpocket from her at this time. He asks her about the magical fruit they'd heard about coming from here - a piece of fruit that's been conflictingly said to both cure any illness and drain the life of those who eat it. She says that she knows the strong new leaders of the Goblin Gang work for someone called the Outcast, who lives below where they are now. Once every 6 months or so, they give the goblins a strange piece of fruit to go sell on the surface.

The party departs from the heart of the Kobold Gang Territory. When he leads them in and out if it, Meepo yells "ticklecorn" every so often. When asked what he's doing, he explains that it's a password to let the guards in rooms off the hallways know that they're allies passing through, not strangers or the Goblin Gang.

Theorising that their new key could open the first stone dragon door they found, the party already detours from going into the Goblin Gang's territory to look for the dragon and goes to test their theory. The key fits the lock perfectly, and from all the dust and stale air, it opens up to a room that hasn't had anyone set foot in it in ages. There's a row of dull broken orbs, and one intact glowing one. Lugs steps right up to it, and it starts playing haunting music that charms the whole party, sending them running back through the citadel's rooms and out the front door against their will - right into the trapdoor pit. Lugs, Lurks, and Valas manage to overcome the charm, and while Valas helps Aelia and Meepo climb out of the pit, the other two go back to the orb room so Lugs can smash it and stop the music.

Lugs, again, rushes first into the next hallway, stepping on a pressure plate that sends an arrow flying over his head. Lurks easily disarms the trap, and they carry on to the next room, which is seemingly a dead end. Aelia finds a secret door recessed into the wall, and as she's inspecting it, Lurks approaches the large, beautiful dragon statue off to the side. In Common, it speaks a riddle:

"We come at night without being fetched; we disappear by day without being stolen. What are we?"

Valas answers, "the stars", and the secret door opens into a long room. The first half of the room has five statues of elves across six small alcoves, and the second half of the room is cut off by a pit of spikes that's 10 feet deep and 10 feet wide, which Lugs and Lurks quickly leap over with their froggy legs. Aelia, Valas, and Meepo warily stay on the other side, while the other two find a large sarcophagus, lit by a sconce holding green fire. Suddenly, a quasit - a bipedal insect-looking creature - comes out of the shadows, and casually warns Lugs to leave (while Lurks quickly ducks behind a pot as tall as he is). As Lugs can't understand Common, he just throws a thumbs up and a grin, and starts talking in Grung. While the quasit is confused, Lurks leaps out and attacks with his dagger and scimitar, and Aelia on the other side of the spike pit deals the finishing blow with a quick Toll the Dead spell. The quasit swears out of shock and anger as he melts into a puddle of steaming goo.

Meanwhile, Valas inspects the first half of the room, and finds that the empty sixth alcove has a secret door. Inside is a small room, with more of that draconic writing on the wall that they saw in the Kobold Gang's dragon keeper room. Asking Meepo to read it, it says, "A dragonpriest entombed alive for transgressions of the Law still retains the honour of his position."

Accidentally (and, I mean, who can really say who's at fault?), Meepo then comments, "Oh boy, Meepo hopes this has nothing to do with that creepy troll in the-"

A beat, and then he blankly turns to the camera. "Meepo has revealed the secrets of the game. Now you have to die." He unzips, and out steps me, with one of those Men In Black memory wipers. Flash!

Anyway, Lugs uses his brute strength to start snapping the six rusted clasps holding the sarcophagus' lid in place. When he runs out of strength for the last one, he just lies down on the floor, depressed. Lurks tries to make him feel better, but Lugs wins the pep talk vs depression contest, so Lurks sticks his finger up his nose, claiming that "this usually cheers him up". Now channeling his depression into fury, Lugs goes into a rage and busts the last clasp, sending the sarcophagus lid sliding across the room along with his brother Lurks.

Inside the sarcophagus is an emaciated troll, whose eyes snap open!!!!!!! Dun dun dunnnn.....

[navigatorwrongway]

No-longer Secret Sherlolly Santa Gift

My assigned giftee was the lovely @mychakk, for whom I wrote a primarily Molly-centric wing!fic. Very sorry that it took this long, but I do hope you enjoy it!!

Molly is 13 years old the first time she grows a feather. She is woken up in the middle of the night to the unpleasant sensation of something tickling her upper back on the left side. She figures it might be the monthly shedding of the uterine lining they were warned about in Health Class, but truly confounding brush down of her lower self reveals no blood. Still, a shower might do her some good. It’s only after looking in the fogged-over mirror does she see it – thin and cream colored, like the one that’s framed in the living room, a memento from the doves released at her parents’ wedding. After the obligatory panic attack at discovering that she’s broken just about every rule of biology she can think of (Some sort of strange mutation? Is she the first of a new species? Homo Avies? No, evolution takes time. One minute change in DNA does not turn a perfectly normal teenage girl into a giant budgie. Or something), she lies awake in bed for number of hours before dashing for the library. Thankfully, it’s a Saturday, so she’s able to lurk in the biology section of the public library that will become her usual haunt without interruption. The next month is spent scouring book after book for information, maybe even an explanation, because, hello, humans are not supposed to suddenly turn into birds.

By the time summer vacation starts, she has two dozen or so feathers that cover the raised mounds that seem to be attached to her scapulai, and has only gotten more confirmation that whatever’s happening to her shouldn’t be. Since her inability to wear any loose tee or tank top with her new appendages really limits ways to spend hot summer days, Molly holes up in her room with every anatomy book she can get her hands on (in the long, lonely hours of her self-imposed exile, she decides that she’s going to be a pathologist).

Mid-July, her best friend calls her, presumably to invite her to come over. Molly lets the phone ring out.

When her friendship with Katlyn dissolves after 9 years of fantastic adventures and later, shared confidences of crushes and hopes for the future, it feels like her world collapses around her. Her father notices, too.

At first, Tobias Hooper is ecstatic that his daughter has decided to follow in her mother’s footsteps, judging by all the science textbooks she’s been hoarding. Then he finds her curled in a ball in the bathtub surrounded by torn-out feathers, spattered with blood and sobbing because it’s all too much and why can’t she just be normal and it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsithurts. He holds her until they fall asleep, his beloved daughter cradled in his arms once again. He joins in her quest for an explanation then – two heads are better than one and all that. He helps her organize a system to keep track of how the appendages grow and how to monitor her caloric intake; before she sprouts more feathers, she gets very, very odd cravings. In secondary school she’s the quiet, pale bookworm that wants to study the human body, of all things.

When her advanced biology class begins dissecting fetal pigs Molly is partnered with a tall, lanky boy who declares her to be “slightly less incompetent”. For some reason, the way his eyes (Blue? Green? A mixture of both, she decides, with a splash of grey thrown in) skate over her, pulling her entire life into the light for all to see (he either misses the fact that she has wings [proper wings now, she can move them a little, if she tries] – which is unlikely – or ignores it – even more unlikely), makes her feathers tingle in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. They aren’t friends (“I don’t have friends, Molly.”), but he tolerates her. He gets bored to the point that he’ll deduce complete strangers for her amusement and she’ll quiz him on decomposition rates or the implications of different types of striations that can be found on corpses. She finds that her wings grow faster when she’s in close proximity to the ornery genius. She can’t say that it’s pleasant, but she’s willing to bear the discomfort for his company.

Once, she grew three feathers in a day while helping him try to convince the police that Carl Powers hadn’t committed suicide. Despite their best efforts, the investigators were unconvinced, and Sherlock had retreated into what he termed his “mind palace” for hours on end. Therefore, her near-constant shifting and stifled whimpers went unnoticed. After that he starts using his skills to solve local mysteries and disappearances, dragging her along with him more often than not. This comes to an end when they go to different universities, though she texts him occasionally with any observation of particular note. He never replies. She tells him the address of her matchbox of a flat in one of the last messages, with an invitation to drop by sometime (she’d be happy to have a roommate, flatmate, whatever, but certain things rule that out [Those certain things are about ten and a half feet across by now, with more joints than any bird wing she’s ever seen. Makes them a bitch to unfold, but admittedly does help conceal them under layers of baggy jumpers with the backs cut out]).

She never actually expected him to show up at two in the morning, looking (and smelling) like he hadn’t seen the business end of a showerhead in a month, pupils the size of dinner plates, and telltale track marks along his arms. As shocked as she is, she simply pulls him into the relative warmth, and goes to her room to see if there’s anything he could wear. One of her dad’s old shirts and sweatpants from when he last visited in hand, she steps back into what serves as her living room to find him… Pissing in her hall closet. Perfect. Wonderful.

“Um… Hey, Sherlock? What are you doing?” He glares at her in the isn’t-it-obvious-you-idiot way he’s mastered. Its effect is lessened, however, by the glazed, unfocused quality his eyes have taken. Oh, god, how is she supposed to deal with this? What took her closest non-friend, her ornery, brilliant, gorgeous non-friend and brought him this low? First things first, Molly-girl, an internal whisper that sounds (almost disturbingly) like her dad tells her. Right. Personal hygiene, then.

She steers Sherlock into the bathroom and leaves the clothes on the toilet seat. Get food, pipes up the voice. A grilled cheese is always good, right?

Bread? Next to the instant ramen. Cheese? Fridge, under the lettuce. Butter? Butter dish. Can of tomato soup? With all the other cans of soup. Can opener? Unemptied dish drainer. Pan? Already on the stove. Where you put it not five minutes ago, Molly, you dolt.

So focused (sort of) on her task that she didn’t hear the opening of the bathroom door, Molly only becomes aware of someone watching her when her feathers fluff up of their own accord as if to make her appear larger – ridiculous, yes, but instinct was instinct.

And then he’s lurching towards her, very little of his typical catlike stealth and grace evident (or is this clumsiness his new[ish] usual? Oh, god. How could she not have at least checked up on him? Then she would have known earlier, and she might know what to do now…) in his movements. Whatever he’s taken (Morphine, Molly suspects) has made him sluggish, allowing her the reaction time to dart out of reach from the hand that’s grasping at her wings.

Wings.

Oh, bollocks.

In her feverish panic regarding Sherlock, she’s completely and utterly forgotten that her sleepwear (a tank top and fuzzy pajama pants with little penguins) really don’t help conceal her feathered friends. At all. Which obviously poses a problem. Because wings. Is it too much to hope that he wouldn’t mention it? Probably, but that didn’t change the fact that Molly would wait until he (inevitably) brought the topic of her additions up.

Damn near miraculously, Sherlock doesn’t question her wings for his entire visit (if that’s the right word. She’s not quite sure). In fact, he barely speaks a word while he’s there, just staring at her with those ohgoditssowrongforthemtobesohazy eyes of his. He collapses on her ratty foldout sofa-bed, having been borderline force-fed soup and half a sarnie, about two hours after he first turned up on her porch. She keeps vigil over him that night, in terror that him might drown in his own vomit if she doesn’t watch him, after she cleans up the repurposed wardrobe. She must have dozed off at some point, though, because he’s long gone when she wakes up with a crick in her neck from sleeping in her beaten armchair. She can’t stay to see if he’ll be coming back – she has an interview with a Dr. Stamford at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.

She gets the job. It’s just a position as an underling in the mortuary, but she can’t imagine working anywhere else. Her supervisor isn’t Mike, but a sexist, nasty, crotchety old toad whose hands shake to the point that she has to physically restrain herself from ripping the scalpel away from him before he cuts himself, her, or parts of the body that aren’t supposed to be cut. The hospital makes up for it, though, particularly the roof. On long, empty night shifts she can sometimes sneak up to the roof and spread her wings without fear of being seen. As long as she keeps low enough, she can glide and practice staying aloft and work on carrying increasingly heavier weights for longer when she feels the need.

Her co-workers notice her odd fondness for the place, and it officially-unofficially becomes recognized as ‘Hooper’s Territory’. At least, that’s what Molly gleans from overhearing Meena warning a new lab assistant away from the space. She can’t say she’s displeased.

It all goes very smoothly, until she’s called on by Scotland Yard to assist on a case that has their usual pathologist stumped. Once she finds a piece of evidence that eventually puts the nail in the case’s proverbial coffin (Seriously, why didn’t anyone think to check inside the upper lip?), the dubious honor of being one of the main contacts is hers. Over time, she strikes up friendships among the force, particularly with a charming older Detective named Lestrade, and to a lesser extent, Sally Donovan. Phillip Anderson was summarily banished the day he tried to tell her how to do her job (as if she doesn’t outrank him in pretty much every category except maybe socialization skills).

A year goes by, and nothing goes overly horrifically wrong, save Meena’s one and only attempt to set her up with a friend of a friend (she adamantly refuses to talk about why a documentary on Ireland’s Hooper swans sent her into peals of hysterical laughter, and everyone except for Caroline eventually lets the matter rest). And then Greg tells her that he’s bringing in a consultant – a private detective, outstandingly brilliant, apparently. As it turns out, she probably should have asked for a name.

[qirahsoka]

WHY YODA IS ARGUABLY THE BIGGEST BITCH IN STAR WARS

When someone says the words, “Star Wars,” typically, the first things to pop into one’s mind go something along the lines of laser swords, space monks, cool ships, and Yoda. Yes, Yoda, he’s that archetypal oracle on the mount; a tiny but incredibly powerful space wizard. Kind of like Dumbledore or Gandalf, just much shorter and green.

Being one of the most iconic characters of the original trilogy, the alien has gained a mass following over time. His famous pearls of wisdom and goofy yet simultaneously stoic have captured the hearts of middle-aged men all over the world that his fan base has become something akin to a cult. Seriously, just look around. His face is plastered over merchandise and his name irrevocably branded to the Star Wars franchise. He is everywhere.

But why? Why has this little green goblin become such an iconic Star Wars character? Many old OT fanboys would tell you he was the heart and soul of a millennium of light side force instruction for the Jedi, embodying what it truly meant to be a force for good. They’d say he was a wise go-to source for acquiring knowledge, a humble and kind know-it-all who could solve almost every problem in the galaxy with his powerful insight and wisdom.

Ironic, since his so called “wisdom” is the cause of almost every problem in the Star Wars universe.

    PART I: I’M NOT A BAD PERSON, I SWEAR! BUT HERE, LET ME JUST ENCOURAGE SLAVERY

 Let’s take our minds back, all the way back to the Phantom Menace. Ah, yes, the dreaded Episode I of the prequel trilogy. Where we’re introduced to little Ani, the pint-sized version and frankly, just as bold, of Darth Dad. So, Master Qui-Gon, being a complete darling, swoops Anakin under his wing and whisks him away to Coruscant after learning of his intensely powerful force sensitivity. Here Anakin undergoes a test in the Jedi Council room to determine whether or not this supposed “Chosen One” is who he appears to be. So here’s Anakin, a tiny-nine-year old boy, a former slave who was just abruptly taken from his mother and the only life he’s ever known, on a completely new planet surrounded by a circle of strangers.

And Yoda, being the toad he is, has the audacity to tell him he is too full of fear to be a Jedi. Well, thank you for pointing out the obvious, oh mighty Grandmaster. No shit, of course this little boy is going to be fearful. He’s in a completely new world, halfway across the galaxy from his home planet, without the only person he’s ever trusted and loved, his mother, and he’s unsure he’s ever going to see her again. He’s been planted into the middle of a ring of some of the most powerful beings in the galaxy and, to be completely honest, it kind of looks like he’s being offered as some kind of sacrifice to a cult of magic space people. Yet Yoda, who is supposed to be the embodiment of compassion, cannot find it in his heart to let the boy down gently. He is hypocritical, claiming Anakin’s intense inner fear is the reason of his failure, but in actual reality, it is Yoda who is scared of a little boy. So, instead he turns him away and plans to send him back to his mother and resume a life of slavery.

That’s right. The Grandmaster of the Jedi Order sending a kid back to be a slave. Wonderful.

Yoda has had quite the run with slavery. He’s basically the head guy of the Jedi, who are the peacekeepers of the galaxy and deliverers of justice. So why was justice not given to the trillions of slaves in the outer rim? Before the war, the Jedi had more than enough resources to rid planets of slavery, and with the aid of the Republic, the Outer Rim’s slaves could have been freed in a matter of years. But no, Yoda deemed them unimportant to their cause and had no intention to help them. So it’s no surprise that no further actions were taken to free Shmi or the many other slaves in the galaxy, not after Yoda considered sending her child back to chains. Evidently, his sense of justice and compassion has become majorly distorted over the years.

   PART II: THAT TIME SHIT WENT DOWN WITH AHSOKA

 Speaking of justice, let’s jump 12 or so years into the future and take a look at some of the events during the Clone War, as shown through the eyes of The Clone Wars animated TV series. This cartoon introduced us to a multitude of new and incredibly complex characters, such as Captain Rex, Fives, and most importantly, Ahsoka Tano. Her character was introduced as a brash and smart-mouthed girl, one whose snippiness earned her her name and whose recklessness could rival that of her Master’s. Over time, the character who audiences initially despised grew and flourished under Anakin’s tutelage and she developed into one of the most beloved and important Star Wars characters, so much so she has earned her own novel and reappearances and references in other media such as books, comics, and even TV shows.

It was early into the war where we were introduced to the spunky young padawan. It is revealed that Anakin did not choose her to be his student, which has been typical Jedi protocol for thousands of years. Instead, she had been assigned to him, much like Anakin was to Obi-Wan. Yoda, typically, was behind this unorthodox pairing, claiming it would teach Anakin a lesson in attachment, seeing as the little green gremlin is so disapproving of Anakin’s compassion. Yoda explicitly states that the Council hopes that training a Padawan will help Anakin deal with attachments because the Padawan, eventually, must either a) move on or b) die.

So basically, Yoda just sent a 14-year-old girl into a warzone, a child soldier, to be Anakin’s student, so he can watch her die and then get over it. This little girl was literally sent to Anakin so he could, once again, become too attached to her, then he could watch her leave or die or whatever sick plan Yoda had concocted for her, and then get over it, all in the hopes that this would magically cure Anakin of being over attached. Oh, goody! What a completely fool proof plan this is, this will definitely cure Anakin of being a decent, loving human being! Absolutely nothing could go wrong! EXCEPT THAT IS DOES.

 It’s about two years later when Ahsoka is framed for murder and treason against the Jedi and the Republic after the temple is bombed. She goes on the run in an attempt to prove her innocence, since Yoda commands the Jedi to hunt her down. She is brought in before the Jedi and is trialed before them to determine her innocence or guilt. It is quite obvious the Jedi know she is innocent; she has served in the war dutifully for years and has made many friends among the council. But here comes good ol’ Tarkin, telling Yoda and the council that they have to expel her from the order so she can have a military tribunal, free of bias lies, deception). So of course, we expect the Jedi to tell Tarkin to stick his request further up his backside than that stick already in there, because why would they desert one of their own? Yoda would never throw one of his young students to the dogs at the slightest inconvenience, he would never abandon them in their time of need! Well, surprise plot twist! He does.

Knowing perfectly well that she is innocent, he exiles her from the order so the Republic can trial her. Just a side note, the Republic end up almost sentencing her to death, a minor, without sufficient evidence, which Yoda knew would happen. He doesn’t even give her a chance to properly argue their statement or explain why she ran from them, instead chalking her claims down to “her vision being clouded with the Dark Side.” Yeah, okay, that’s fine. Just condemn a teenage girl to death, why don’t you?

So anyways, Anakin ends up proving her innocence for her since Yoda made no move to defend her. Long story short, they end up offering to reinstate her position in the GAR and also offer her Knighthood because bribing people in an attempt to make them forget you wronged them is perfectly okay. Not only does he do this, but he never even apologises to her. No, “sorry, I know I basically condemned you to an execution even though you’ve served this order since you were three years old, I was completely wrong!” Just silence, while beside him, Mace wonderfully offers no condelences either for traumatising this girl and instead excuses their wrongs by saying it was actually her great trial. “Haha! Surprise, this was all just a big joke. You weren’t really gonna be killed, it was just your Knighthood trial! You’ve just been pranked by the prank patrol!”

So, Ahsoka, being the wonderful and smart girl she is, takes no shit from them and turns on her heel and leaves the order, consequently leaving Anakin. He’s pretty shattered, considering the girl he thinks of as a daughter just walked away from him and the only life she’s ever known. Here’s where the plan goes wrong: remember that oh-so-great plan Yoda had, the one where Ahsoka would leave and Anakin would get over it and cure his attachment issues? Yeah, no.

   PART III: THINK I CAN’T CONDEMN THE ENTIRE GALAXY TO A REIGN OF EVIL? HOLD MY BEER!

 Instead, this ordeal only pushes him further to the Dark Side, meaning Yoda’s plan has completely and utterly backfired. Didn’t exactly think that one through, did you, mate? Oh well, there’s still time to fix this, Yoda. Just tell Anakin that it’s okay to love and be attached to people, that it’s okay to be compassionate and caring, just as long as you don’t let attachments control you. This would’ve been some pretty good advice, some words Anakin desperately needed as he spiralled further towards the Dark Side. But no, as if Yoda hasn’t already learnt from his mistakes, he only makes them worse. Instead, when Anakin is almost at breaking point, he tells him, “Rejoice for those around us who transform into the Force. Mourn them, do not. Miss them, do not. Attachment leads to jealousy, the shadow of greed, that is." Anakin then questions what he must do, to which Yoda replies, "Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose."

Okay, people. We realise that Yoda just told Anakin to let Padme die, right? Anakin came to him so he could have guidance from the damn Grandmaster of the Order, and Yoda simply tells him oh, yeah, sorry mate, save them? No can do. Just let them die. You’ll get over it, bro. I’m sorry, but, do you literally never learn? You, of all people, know just how attached this man gets, and yet you still think that letting the ones he loves die is a good idea? Okay. Whatever. You do you, boo boo. You just better hope this doesn’t have any dire consequences, such as, I don’t know, the creation of one of the most powerful Sith Lords ever, the death of the Jedi Order and the Empire.

Look, I know Palpatine is basically the mastermind behind everything. He manipulated Anakin from when he was a boy and turned the Republic against the Jedi. But, come on, you cannot look me in the eye and tell me that Yoda was completely innocent. It was his own fault, from his hypocrisy to his ignorance, that the Jedi fell. He and the Jedi were working for the Dark Lord of the Sith for years and had no idea. Completely oblivious. Like, eating lunch with him. Taking orders from him. Sending inter-office funny emails back and forth. Yet, somehow, Yoda still had the gall to accuse both Ahsoka and Anakin for their sense of clarity being clouded. Um, okay, take a look at yourself, sweetie.

He had no regard, at all, for upholding the Jedi values. It was entirely his fault that he allowed his students to fall because he was responsible for caring for them and ensuring they were trained properly. Hell, he couldn’t even keep his own student from falling, and that’s not even adding to the fact that Dooku later became one of the most powerful Sith lords ever. Yoda’s students-going-crazy track record goes to show how much his methods have failed; two out of five students from his lineage fell to the Dark Side and one left the order. Yeah, kinda goes to show how far acting like a too-good-for-anyone-of-a-lower-rank-than-me-which-is-everyone attitude gets you.

So at this point it’s pretty clear; we’ve established that Yoda is dumb as hell. But, with the Jedi fallen and evil taking control of the galaxy, and after two decades of exile, he must have had some time to reflect on what he’s done wrong, right? Wrong.

  PART IV: YOU THINK I FUCKED YOU UP? WAIT ‘TIL I FUCK THE REST OF THE FAMILY UP

 So here we are. It’s 19 BBY and Anakin has gone on a bloody killing spree. Palpatine’s claimed himself as the Emperor and the galaxy’s in turmoil. Meanwhile, Yoda’s waiting on the asteroid of Polis Massa in relative safety waiting patiently on Kenobi’s arrival. And then here comes Obi-Wan carrying a half-choked-to-death Padme Amidala into the operating room because Jesus Christ she’s giving birth. We all know how the story goes. Padme dies, leaving her two children in the hands of Bail, Obi-Wan and Yoda. Yoda, being the complete genius he is, offers to split the children up, which strategically isn’t a bad move. But I can guarantee you, if Padme was still alive and Anakin were there, together they would’ve bashed Yoda’s brains out. Splitting the two most important children in the galaxy up is completely dishonouring Padme’s wishes, and there is no way she would approve of that. Anakin simply would’ve gutted Yoda before he had the chance to finish.

So twenty something years go by, and Luke somehow makes his way to Yoda, who has spent the last two decades in exile. Classic Yoda, taking the coward’s way out. Ahsoka and Kannan, two of the last Jedi who escaped Order 66 decided not to be cowards and put their skills to good use, fighting in the rebellion. They didn’t hide; instead they knew they had military experience and could use their forces to do good in the galaxy and fight the Empire. Even Obi-Wan had a good reason for remaining in exile; he had to look over one of the most powerful force users and make sure he was kept safe. But Yoda, good old Yoda. He had literally no reason for being in exile, and instead of fighting, he cowered.

Anyways, Luke decides he wants a real Jedi to train him! Yay! It’s all fun and games ‘til we realise that Yoda has not learnt a single. Damn. Lesson. I kid you fucking not. This dude literally had 20 years to reflect on what could have possibly gone wrong with his mentoring so, when the opportunity arises again to teach, he wouldn’t fuck it up. But no.

Arguably Yoda’s biggest fuck up with Anakin was that, instead of teaching Anakin that it’s okay to have attachments and to love as long as you don’t let them control your actions, he taught him that attachments were evil and they were a direct link to the Dark Side. Not only is this completely false, but Yoda knew better than to say this to Anakin, of all people. The whole damn Order knew how attached Anakin became to people and honestly, he wasn’t even discrete about it. So why the hell would Yoda be encouraging Anakin to leave his friends behind for the greater good? It was because of this philosophy that had been constantly rammed into Skywalker’s head that he fell. Instead of helping Anakin acknowledge his emotions so he can deal with them in a healthy manner, Yoda tells him to just push them down, or “release them into the Force,” whatever the fuck that means. If Anakin had been taught to embrace his feelings instead of pushing them down to the point of explosion, he wouldn’t have fallen.

So, we’ve established that it was pretty much Yoda and the Jedi’s teachings that caused the galaxy to fall into a period of turmoil, even if it was indirect and unintentional. By this point, two decades on when Luke lands (or rather, crashes) onto Yoda’s doorstep, the piece of shit gargoyle should have figured out what went wrong with this teachings and how to fix it, like any good teacher would. Bitch, you thought.

Instead, Yoda does the exact same shit that got him there in the first place. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it, right?

I’ll give it to the little guy; he started out alright, even if his old philosophies make literally zero sense. “Do or do not, there is no try,” what the fuck, you can’t do something without trying to do it, that’s literally how you do something. That’s always pissed me off, but anyways. It’s when the events of Cloud City start rolling in is where the problem arises. Luke comes to Yoda, does a bit of training, etcetera. Yoda tells him to look deep into the force, where Luke then sees a vision of his friends in grave peril in Cloud City. He expresses these concerns to his little green mentor, telling him Leia and Han need him and he must go to save them.

Its at this point where Yoda goes, “Fuck it. Esketit, bitch.”

It’s legitimately like Yoda doesn’t even give a single fuck at this point. I mean, who cares your training fucked up this boy’s dad, let’s just do it all over again! So, much to Luke’s chagrin, Yoda tells him he must complete his training and stay. “You must not go,” he tells him, before lifting his ship and submerging it into the swamp water. Man, what a fucking dick move.

Guess he realised how shitty that was so he later takes the ship back out. Luke decides he’s had enough with this goblin-lookin’ ass and starts departing for Bespin. Once again Yoda, now with ghost Obi’s help, tries in a desperate final move to make Luke stay, telling him he must complete his training and that only a fully-fledged Jedi Knight will have a chance at defeating Vader. Luke says he doesn’t give a fuck, he just wants to save his friends, to which Yoda replies he must sacrifice them if Luke honours what they fight for. Luke’s pretty pissed by this and, in true Skywalker manner, disobeys the two Jedi and leaves anyways, and rightly so. If someone told me I had to let my friends die horrible deaths just so I can stay in some shitty swamp I’d pummel them.

That sounds rather familiar, actually. Yoda telling someone to leave his friends behind for the greater good. Oh, wait! That’s exactly what he said to Anakin before the poor dude fucked up the entire galaxy. But, of course, Yoda doesn’t give a flying fuck about that, now does he?

   PART V: OTHER STUFF THAT PROVES HOW SHITTY HE IS

 So, at this point we’ve pretty much analysed most of the dumb shit Yoda has pulled that we know of in canon, but there’s a heap more. If I were to go into depth with everything, this would become a 10,000 word essay real quick, so let’s just skim over some points:

 ·         Yoda’s a damn big hypocrite. I know I’ve already stated this in one context, but here’s another; Yoda wants complete loyalty to the Jedi and their morals, but isn't loyalty a type of attachment? Yoda gets real upset when people don’t show complete and utter adherence to the Code. So, I’m honestly kind of confused; is he encouraging attachment or not?

 ·         Here’s another context in which he’s a hypocritical bastard; in regards to age, he claimed Anakin was too old to be a Jedi at age nine. But according to this source, Yoda did not become a Jedi until he was an adult. And seeing as his species live for about nine hundred years, I’d say it’s pretty safe to assume he became a Jedi after at least one hundred years of living. So Yoda can shut the fuck up, thanks.

 ·         Yoda is a homophobe. This statement is a pretty well-known fact around fandom, so I don’t really need to go into specifics here besides mentioning that he fucked over Ahsoka and Luke, both known gays, and beat Artoo with a stick, an iconic droid lesbian.

 ·         Yoda was responsible for directly exploiting Obi-Wan’s naivety and lack of experience so he could be used as a mere tool. He knighted Obi-Wan at too young of an age and didn't let him grieve properly, sticking him with a former slave and hoping things would turn out just fine. Anakin had just been taken from his mother, and needed time to get used to being a (relatively, in a sense) free boy and Jedi protocol. Yoda repeatedly forced Obi into situations where he had to ignore his own good judgement and attachment to Anakin just so he could follow the Council’s orders.

   So, in short, I think it’s pretty clear that we’ve noted Yoda is Star Wars’ biggest asshole.

@anti-yoda

[msilet]

Hello, Beloved Husband (3/3)

Summary: Harry and Eggsy finally find Merlin lying in a coma in Thailand. Harry uses his marital status with Merlin to gain visiting right.

Ship: Harry Hart/Merlin

Chapter: 3 / 3

Link to chapter 1: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/167977795700/hello-beloved-husband

Link to chapter 2: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/168097068545/hello-beloved-husband-23

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12853176/chapters/29435082

Note: The wedding! Fluff, fluff everywhere! I love this fandom so much but sometimes we are just soooo angsty (ok, this fic started out as an angsty one-shot so I can’t really blame anyone). This is my fluffy gift to you guys. Happy holidays! 

Sorry, I could not post it right on Christmas, I had a big writer’s block and didn’t know how to write the wedding. Who would’ve thought drinking 12 yr-old single malt Scottish whisky could cure it.

Chapter behind the cut

6 months later

 Harry is woken up because the sun shines directly on his face. Damn, he thinks, forgot to close the curtain yesterday. Not that he had a mind to do it, he was too busy throwing his fiancé, technically husband, on the bed and getting his clothes off as fast as possible, fair to say curtains weren’t something his mind was concerning about. Merlin is still sleeping peacefully. Usually, the man beside him is the one to wake up earlier so he can work more. Must have tired him out, Harry grins.

 Not wanting to get up just yet, he turns to Merlin’s sleeping form and holds him tight from behind, inhaling the scent of the man. This is the best feeling, lying close to the love of his life in a beautiful luxurious hotel room in the middle of nowhere with no one knowing them and worrying about nothing in the world. The view around is amazing too but Harry hasn’t been looking around at many things, too busy doing something else, well, someone, to be precise. They have a whole week here; tourist stuff can come later.

 "G'morning, Harry.", Merlin murmurs, his voice still groggy.

 "Good morning, my love.", Harry replies softly. He loves using that endearment. There was a time he could only say it in his dream. "Ready for the big day?"

 "No, I need another ten hours of sleep.", Merlin turns to bury his face deeper into the soft pillow.

 Harry drapes himself on top of the stubborn man and pouts. "Hamish, you can't sleep through your own wedding!", he whines, "Don't you want to marry me anymore?"

 Harry can see Merlin smirking even with more than half his face hidden by the pillow and his eyes still closed. "I'm sorry, dear, but my boss is an arse that overworked me to the bones the last few months, both in and out of bed."

 Harry pretends to be offended, he exclaims dramatically. "An arse? You are too hard on him, love! He only wants you to work diligently and earn your keep. I am sure you are his favourite. At least he is a beautiful arse, yes?"

 Merlin's laughter is muffled by the pillow but his shaking shoulders give his mirth away. "You vain, vain man!", he says between laughs and turns around to look at the love of his life. "Why did I agree to marry you?"

 "I'm sorry but you can't return or exchange this product, sir, no refund either."

 "As if I would. Wouldn't have you any other way.", Merlin smiles and pulls Harry down for a kiss.

 After a few minutes, the older man pulls back and asks, "So, the wedding is still on?". That question makes Merlin laugh again. "Yes, you daft man. Give me a few minutes to get up."

 "Great! I wouldn't want to miss getting married at the place they shot a big part of Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

 "Aye, that's nice and all but I am more excited to see the part they use for the Starks' Winterfell myself."

 Both of them giggle like children. Sure, it is their wedding day and not many things are more important right now for them than that but being agents of Kingsman means that they don't have a lot of time for sightseeing, especially with each other. They jumped at the chance, figuratively speaking, of course, to hold the ceremony at Castle Doune. Not that they have a lot of guests but they need to have a place befitting the status of Kingsman's king and wizard. Also, it makes their inner geeks happy. Eggsy, Roxy and Martin fully supported the idea, in fact, they have taken over the organising job and insisted that their leader and handler only needed to show up on the day. The friends over at Statesman are also very excited to visit such an ancient place as well.

 A little more than an hour later, after they are done washing up, Roxy and Eggsy storm into their room as if they are a conquering army, hell-bent on taking down a castle with no survivor and drag Merlin away to "get ready". Harry wonders why Merlin is their favourite when he and Martin are the kids' mentors but sometimes, one just doesn't question things too much, especially when he also has preparation to make.

The castle is huge, he can see it from afar as his car takes him closer and closer to it. The weather today is marvellous, too, one can clearly see the blue sky through a few wisps of white cloud. After they arrive and Harry steps out of the car, he has to pause and takes the whole magnificent scenery. The grand, ancient castle stands out against the green grass and the trees. Harry notices, however, that there is hardly anyone here. He knows that the place is usually brimming with tourists. He turns around to voice his question to Martin, the friend who helped him get ready and drove him here. Martin guffaws and asks him if he seriously thinks Kingsman hasn't hired the whole damn place for the whole week, tourists be damned. Well, one certainly can't claim that Kingsman isn't a bit melodramatic.

 Harry looks around while walking slowly up to meet with Eggsy, his best man. He can think of so many things to comment about this place to Merlin when they finally have time to themselves to be tourists and smiles to himself. Eggsy is waiting for the two at the top of the stairs and waves as he sees them approaching. Martin hands Harry over to the younger agent, bids him good luck and goes off to prepare the rings.

 Eggsy looks dapper in his black morning suits with an orange waistcoat. Bold colour combination but it works. Harry himself is also wearing black morning suits but with a light violet waistcoat and a boutonniere on his lapel. Eggsy gives off the air of a puppy, so excited that his body starts shaking. He walks with Harry up even more stairs while explaining to him what the process of the whole thing is. Apparently, he and Merlin will walk down the aisle at the same time, his protégé being his best man behind him and Roxy being Merlin's best woman. They won't get to see each other right up until the moment they have to stand before the door.

 When there are only ten minutes left until they have to be there, the anxiety sets in. Harry can't even sit down next to Eggsy, choosing to walk around in a circle in the waiting room instead. Eggsy has to assure him that nothing wrong would happen, Merlin is not backing out and no one is dumb enough to attack a castle full of Kingsman and Stateman agents. Eggsy also assured that not only is the information on the wedding closely guarded but so is the castle.

 Harry is thankful for the care and effort from Eggsy to the wedding and he says it, to which the younger man replies, "Bruv, other than my mum and Daisy, you and Merlin are the most important people in my life, I would walk through fire for you. I want you two to be happy, you deserve it."

 Eggsy starts smiling cheekily and continues, "Although, I was not the only one responsible for this, you know? Love to take the credit but I can't. Roxy planned everything and the guests, I was her errand boy. Martin used his power and connections to get the castle to ourselves for the week. They were very against it at first but Martin just had to have his way. Whiskey set up and went through security details three times in the last month. The flowers, and I have to warn you, there are A LOT of flowers up there, came from Elton. All the booze is from Stateman, of course. Everyone had a hand in making this wedding because we all love you."

 Harry feels himself tearing up. It won't do to be a blubbering mess before the wedding even starts but he can't help being touched by the love everyone has for him. He thinks back on all the dark thoughts he used to have about ending up a sad, lonely old man and feels fortunate that he would not end up that way. He walks forward and pulls Eggsy into a fierce hug.

 Eggsy hugs him back for a few moments, then pats his back and says, "Well, Harry, it's time. Let's go get you married."

 With every step they make, Harry feels himself getting closer to being hysteric. What will Merlin look like, what will everything look like, is some random alien race going to land directly on this castle and declare that they want to take over the earth. He knows he is being unreasonable right now but hell, he has been dreaming of this day for so long, it feels unreal and too real at the same time.

 As they make it to the big door leading into the Great Hall, Harry sees Roxy first. She is looking very sharp, wearing a deep blue tuxedo with her hair done up. And then he sees Merlin and Fuck! The man looks good! If this isn't already their wedding, Harry would have suggested that they run off and elope immediately. His Scottish military regalia is absolutely beautiful. It accentuates his broad shoulder and slender waist perfectly. And that kilt! Harry will have to check later if he wears nothing beneath it as per tradition. His prosthetic legs make him look even more lethal in this get-up.

 Roxy clears her throat and grins, "Sirs, may I interrupt your ogling session for a moment and suggest that we proceed to the actual ceremony? You have plenty of time for that later."

 Both of them turn to her and nods, then take a deep breath and turn to face the door. Eggsy and Roxy push it open, revealing the Great Hall and the guests inside. The whole place is lavishly decorated with flowers everywhere and chairs covered in white cloths and golden ribbons. From here, Harry can spot and guess that every surviving members and staffs of Kingsman are here, along with some Statemen such as Champ, Whiskey and Tequila. Princess Tilde and Sir Elton John are here as well. Well, that's basically everyone they need.

 Then, the music starts. With only a few opening notes of the piano, Harry knows exactly what song that is. He specifically requested it. From the look on Merlin's face, so does he. Roxy and Eggy gesture that they should start walking.

 "Just to look in your eyes again

Just to lay in your arms

Just to be the first one always there for you

Just to live in your laughter

Just to sing in your heart

Just to be everyone of your dreams come true

 Just to sit by your window

Just to touch in the night

Just to offer a prayer each day for you

Just to long for your kisses

Just to dream of your sighs

Just to know that I'd give my life for you

 For you for the rest of my life

For you all the best of my life

For you alone, only for you"

 Even though he chose this song from John Denver because he knew Merlin would love it, it is also everything he wants to say to him. The words ring out through the hall and into his heart and they make him emotional. As they reach where the officiant and Martin are standing, they turn to look at each other in the eye. Only then does Harry realise that Merlin has been crying, his eyes red. Roxy reaches out and gives him a handkerchief to clean his face.

 The ceremony begins but Harry is too overwhelmed with emotions, as well as too busy looking at the love of his life to hear what the officiant has to say.

 Soon, he hears, "Do you, Hamish Andrew Ferguson, take Harry Hart, as your lawful wedded husband?"

 The sound "I do." coming out of Merlin's mouth might be the greatest thing he's ever heard, no song would ever compare to this.

 Then, the officiant turns to him to asks the same thing. There can be only one answer: "Of course I fucking do."

 Martin comes forward to hand them the rings and they put them on each other's hand. With that, the officiant declares that they are now married. As they kiss, the whole Great Hall erupts with cheers.

The wedding party is finally over and the guests are already on their ways. Harry and his newly-wedded husband, Merlin, are finally alone in front of their hotel room. He turns to the man in the kilt and asks with a pleading look on his face, "Hamish, please don't be upset or anything but there is something I really, really would love to do and I need your permission."

 "What is it, Harry?"

 "Can I carry you, bridal style over the threshold?"

 Merlin sighs but he smiles, "Fine, just this once."

 Harry's face lights up and he looks as happy as a child on Christmas Eve. He unlocks the door, grabs Merlin and picks him up to carry him into the room, closing the door on the way in with his foot. He then tenderly puts his husband down on the edge of the bed and kneels down in front of him, beaming.

 Merlin smiles back genuinely, then bends down to kiss Harry's forehead. "Hello, beloved husband."

 Harry pulls Merlin down for a passionate kiss that lasts until the need for oxygen becomes too much to bear. After that, both of them just sits there, grinning like idiots.

 After a while, Merlin starts yawning and Harry declares that they both need sleep. Merlin reaches down to take his prosthetic legs off but Harry stops him. "Let me.", he says. As Harrys meticulously, tenderly tends to Merlin, he finds himself singing.

 "Just to wake up each morning

Just to you by my side

Just to know that you're never really far away

Just a reason for living

Just to say I adore

Just to know that you're here in my heart to stay

 For you for the rest of my life

For you all the best of my life

For you alone, only for you

 Just the words of a love song

Just the beat of my heart

Just the pledge of my life, my love, for you."

PS: So I have finally finished my first not-one-shot! I came across John Denver’s “For You” as I was looking for music for this fic and I have to say that the first time I heard it, I cried. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Doune Castle:

If you like what I wrote, please continue supporting me by reading Captain Fantastic And The Gentleman Spies, it is also a Merlahad :D