#good lord don’t even ask how many layers I’ve already got

[lynelsscareme]

Uhhh.

How many layers am I allowed again? When do I find the Limit??? I’m the concerned, bc what if I start something big and need more layers but run out of space. Where do I stop???

I am.

Suffering from success.

[neon-junkie]

It Takes Two To Tango

Summary: Stuck in a failing marriage where both you and your husband are having affairs, you enjoy another night with the man that you literally bumped into at the Saloon.

Pairing: Javier Escuella x f!Reader

Word Count: 2227

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Cheating/Affairs, Degrading, Humiliation, Praise, Squirting, Cum eating, Creampies, Face slapping, Knife kink, Choking, Smut without a plot.          

Notes: I had RDR1 Javier in mind for this seeing as he's low honour, and the dialogue/actions in this are very low honour Javier based, buuuuut you're welcome to picture any Javier you want <3

To put things politely, you hate your husband. When you two first met, he was sweet, kind, wonderful, everything you'd expect in a partner; the first few years of your marriage were flawless, but something within him changed, and he began spiralling off the rails, crashing into the man that he is today.

A divorce is hard to come by, especially in this time. However, you two seem to have somewhat of an unspoken agreement that you're no longer together. Well, you still share a house, still sleep in the same bed, still ask how each other's day went; but you know exactly where he goes to every night, leaving you all alone in your comfortable home, and sometimes, the nights can get so cold without anybody to hold.

The new man that keeps you warm every night bumped into you at a bar, quite literally, and apologized profusely, then offered to buy you a replacement drink. You happily accepted, taking an instant fancy to his mysterious yet welcoming aura, and spent the rest of the night blatantly flirting. You eventually asked him to help clean the liquor he'd spilt off you, and he did so by licking a stripe from your collar bone, along your neck, settling just below your ear. "It always tastes so much better when you know you shouldn't be doing it, eh?" he huskily whispered, and you agreed by grabbing his hand and pulling him across town, straight into your bed.

Javier knew who you were when he bumped into you, he knew you were a married woman, and he mentioned that he'd seen your husband spending his time with other women, so it's only fair you do the same, right? At first, you felt guilty, until that one night where your husband came home with obvious hickeys on his neck, and you got your own back by asking Javier to mark you ten times worse.

And yet again, Javier's now climbing up the same path to your balcony, swinging his leg over the railing, and finding his way into your bed once he watches your husband leave. You're practically starving every single day, desperate for a way out of this marriage, but even more desperate to spend time with your lover. It's crystal clear how much he enjoys playing this sinful game with you, and often reassures you during pillow talk that he's seen your husband do far worse. It's only a matter of time before the tower falls.

"Javier," you mutter, wrists tied to the bed posts, legs spread, and said man lapping away between them.

"Mhmm?" he hums, his mouth far too occupied as he continues wrapping his lips around your cunt.

"T-too much, come on," you beg.

"Not yet," he quickly blurts out, and returns to lapping at your clit, sliding two fingers into you and curling them perfectly. Thank the lord that you live on the outskirts of town with no attached neighbours; you can be as loud as you want, moaning to your hearts content as Javier mutters sweet praise against your lips. "Good girl," he mutters against your cunt, his fingers continuing to work you open.

"C-come on," you beg yet again, only this time you hear Javier chuckle against you.

"Alright," he sighs. Javier removes his fingers, and licks his lips as his head raises, meeting yours. "Always so impatient, aren't you?" he laughs, but he's also the one lining his cock up to your entrance, cutting your reply short as he slides in. "I don't blame you for being impatient, you know," Javier begins to mutter, jumping straight in to a quick pace. "You must be so deprived, all thanks to that shitty husband of yours. But I'm here now, I'm here to make sure you tire yourself out every night. If your husbands not going to use this pussy, then I might as well use it," Javier shrugs.

It's never slow and steady with Javier, always quick and heated, in a rush just in case your husband does come early, even on the nights where he doesn't come home at all. Your head is rolling back against the pillow, eyes falling shut, but Javier draws your attention back to him with a slap across your cheek. "Look at me when I'm fucking you," he orders, making your eyes go wide. "That's better."

Javier moves his hand to your throat, squeezing lightly between your jawline, enough to be pleasurable, but not enough to make your mind go hazy. "Open up," he orders, and your mouth falls open instantly, tongue sticking out. "That's a good girl," Javier praises, before dipping his head down and spitting directly into your mouth. "Swallow."

He's grinning as you swallow his spit, licking your lips afterward; your cheeks then begin turning red as Javier returns to choking you, a dark glisten in his eyes as he continues to pound you, thrusting into you like his life depends on it. "I fuck you good, don't I?" he asks.

"Uh-huh," you manage to sigh, nodding your head at the same time.

"Then why do you keep closing your eyes, hm? I want you to look at me whilst I'm fucking you," Javier barks, and lands another slap across your cheek. Instead of wrapping his hand around your neck, he places his fingertips on either side of your cheeks, squishing them slightly together and ordering you to order your mouth once more. You watch as he spits into your mouth again, but much slower this time, letting his spit drool off his tongue, slowly into your mouth, before dipping his head down and sealing the deal with a hungry kiss.

"Good girl," he praises again, his lips still pressed against yours. Javier's thrusts come to a halt, his cock sheathed deep inside you, and he props himself upright with a somewhat serious look on his face. "Are you going to let me do it tonight?" he questions, and you know exactly what he's on about.

"Yeah," you nod. You go to reach out, but you're quickly reminded about your wrists being tied to the bed posts, as if you've somehow forgotten.

"I guess you could say this is a punishment, huh?" Javier asks as he shifts his weight over to the edge of the bed, reaching down to pick up his gun belt, his cock still inside you. "I mean, naughty girls like you deserve to be roughed up," he continues, unsheathing his knife and twiddling it between his fingers. "Of course, I'm not going to hurt you, but I suggest you be a good girl and stay still," he smirks.

Javier's knife disappears from your sight, only for the cool metal to be pressed against your throat. The blade is barely touching your skin, hovering over you. However, it's close enough to send a chill down your spine, one that you attempt to contain in fear of the blade making contact with your throat. Javier picks up his pace again, starting with slow thrusts, ensuring the knife is at an angle where it's not going to hurt you. For a man who you met at the Saloon, you trust him, not just with keeping your affair a secret, but with hot and heavy situations like this.

"I'd say hold still, but I've already made sure you'll hold still," he laughs, gesturing with his blade to your bound wrists.

Within time, the roll to Javier's hips becomes quicker, his eyes flicking from yours to the knife at your throat. You know by now not to close your eyes, no matter how many times he hits those perfect spots inside you, your body urging to let your eyes fall shut as your head rolls back.

Javier moves the blade across your skin, trailing up your neck and jawline, and presses the flat part to your cheek. He urges you to tilt your head, and keeps the blade there as his lips meet your neck, marking you loud proud, clear enough for your husband to notice, not that he hasn't before.

"How many do you think I can leave before he says something?" Javier comments, chuckling between kisses.

"Javier, not whilst we're fucking," you sigh. The last person you want to think about right now is your husband, and Javier replies with a laugh, moving his head back up, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright, alright," he replies. "Say, could you hold this for me? I need both my hands free if I'm going to fill you up."

Before you can verbally accept, Javier's already pressing his knife against your mouth; he's kind enough to slip the handle into your mouth, rather than the blade. Instead, the blade tickles your cheek, pointing to your side, whilst your lips are wrapped around the handle.

"That's very kind of you," Javier laughs. He wraps his hands around your thighs, pulling them up to his waist, and puts all his focus into chasing his orgasm, using you like some kind of cheap street whore, not that you mind.

This time, Javier is the one to close his eyes, his breaths becoming quick and short as he slams down into you. You're a whimpering mess, most of your moans muffled by his knife, but he soaks up every noise you make like sweet music to his ears.

"Shit-" Javier grunts, his cock coming to a halt inside you as he fills you up; you can feel his cock twitching, complimented by the heavy moans Javier's letting out. There's a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead, which he accidentally presses to your shoulder as he rests against it, catching his breath as he comes down from his high. "Your turn," Javier softly mutters.

He slips out of you, and shuffles to rest beside you, propping himself up on his elbow. Javier's other hand goes straight to work, not wanting to leave you empty for too long; he slips two fingers inside you, accidentally pushing out some of his load, the white mess oozing out of your cunt. Javier's fingers curl, and he begins moving his wrist, hitting that spot inside you at a vibrating speed.

You let out a cry, muffled by the handle still locked between your lips. Javier smirks at your reaction, but he doesn't let up, keeping his pace fast, eager to see how quickly he can make you cum. As always, your body begins to shake, uncontrollably squirming in Javier's grasp. He's letting out sweet words of praise, "good girl," and "that's it, soak the bed for me."

"Javier, I-"

"What?" he questions, his fingers not losing their pace.

"We'll make a mess!"

"Not we, you. You'll make a mess," Javier chuckles. "And what's wrong with a little mess, huh? just make your husband sleep on the damp side."

For some unknown reason, Javier's comment catches you off guard; maybe it's the way he whispered it directly into your ear, or the thought of letting your husband suffer whilst you sleep peacefully, but either way, your orgasm hits like a train.

"That's it," Javier cheers, watching in awe as you squirt. He doesn't let up, his fingers still hitting that spot inside you, his palm brushing against your clit with every flick of his wrist.

Javier's milking you, and it's rapidly becoming too much, only you're still bound to the bed, unable to push him off, and the knife handle in your mouth is keeping you from calling out your protests. He's smart, Javier knows exactly what he's doing, or what he's done.

But eventually, you run dry, your body still shaking from an intense and drawn out orgasm. "That's my good girl," Javier praises, placing a kiss to your temple as he pulls his fingers from you. Javier sits up on his knees, using his dry hand to remove the knife and places it on your bedside table. "Here. Open. Clean me up," Javier orders.

Javier presents his fingers, and like the well trained slut that you are, you open your mouth, allowing him to slip his fingers inside. The taste is exactly what you'd expect, a mixture of squirt and cum, but you let your eyes shut as you clean his fingers, licking them dry, enjoying the soft moans and sighs he lets out as he watches in lustful amazement.

You're just about finished when you hear the front door slam. Javier and you share a look of pure horror, his fingers still between your lips, both of your eyes wide and visibly nervous. Javier quickly pulls his fingers from your mouth, rushing to grab his knife and cut you free from your binds, with caution.

As soon as you're free, there's a mad rush, both of you hurrying to pull your clothes on, followed by dumping all of your bedding into the laundry basket. There's almost no time for a kiss goodbye, but you manage to fit one in, sharing the taste of your regular encounter before Javier scurries out onto your balcony and hops the railing, disappearing into the night.

Thankfully, your husband doesn't trail upstairs straight away, giving you enough time to organize your laundry properly and put some fresh bedding on. And by the time he does, you're already sound asleep, worn out from yet another illicit encounter.

Isn't it about time you start looking into your divorce?

[fireemblems24]

Ao3 Ship Thoughts

To sate my desire to read Three Houses fan fiction and jump in on the shipping comments that have upticked recently, I decided to see what ships were the most popular on Ao3.

Some of it's exactly what I expected, and one in particular is just . . . what, why?

Ao3 is probably the closest you'll get to truly determining which ships are the most popular, or at least have the highest number of passionate fans. So I was curious to see who the top ships were. Here's the ones listed, in order:

Sylvain/Felix

Dimitri/Byleth

Edelgard/Byleth

Ferdinand/Hubert

Claude/Byleth

Dimitri/Felix

Dimitri/Claude

Felix/Annette

Caspar/Linhardt

Hilda/Marrianne

If I exclude the Byleth ships, Dimitri/Dedue, Byleth/Seteth, and Ingrid/Sylvain take up the three missing spots.

Byleth's Ships

I'm shocked. Really, truly shocked that Byleth/Lord is popular. Never wouldn't guessed. I am, of course, being sarcastic. If someone asked me to list who I think would show up in the top 10 most popular ships, the first three I'd list would be Byleth/Lord.

What I find more interesting is that Byleth/Seteth is the fourth option for Byleth. AO3 writers, I officially bow to your taste. It pleases me quite a bit that, if you're not going with one of the main lords, you all want Seteth. This I can agree with.

As for the Byleth/Lord ships, I feel kind of mixed on them. Every lord interacts with characters who have more depth than Byleth, but I still get the appeal. I'm going to deep dive into all of the lords relationships with Byleth later, but here's a quick summary.

Edelgard/Byleth is shoved down your throat so hard it's nearly impossible to ship Edelgard with someone else and even shortchanges her potential to have deep, non-romantic relationships because Edelgard puts Byleth on a pedestal that no one else can reach by her own dialogue.

Byleth's character arc works well alongside Dimitri's. While the relationship is pushed and fanservice-y scenes exist, the game leaves enough breathing room to see Byleth as a mentor/therapist/teacher figure, and Dimitri has no shortage of deep, meaningful relationships with others should you not want to do the whole self-insert thing. It's a good balance.

Claude and Byleth are the opposite of Edelgard and Byleth. They read almost more like friends than lovers. It's a breath of fresh air, honestly. Claude/Byleth seems like the healthiest possible romance for Byleth/lord because the lord in question here doesn't seem as dependent. That said, it lacks lacks romance and shipping fuel. I may complain about fanservice, but the Byleth/Claude dynamic does show why scenes of holding hands in the rain and teasing about badly drawn images might actually come in handy.

Edelgard's Ships

I'm not surprised, at all, that Edelgard has no popular ships outside of Byleth. Dialogue consistently shortchanges Edelgard's relationships with others by having her verbally, repeatedly put Byleth into a special "other" that no one else can reach for her.

Though, I guess I'm a bit surprised at the extreme lack of Edelgard/Hubert. I feel these two have a lot of shipping fuel and their supports left things unresolved. I've come across the sentiment in fandom many times that ship where things are tied off nicely with a bow leave less to explore and aren't as interesting, so I am bummed out no one seems interested in fleshing out Hubert/Edelgard more.

The outlook for Edelgard fanfic and me seems pretty limited. I don't like Edelgard/Byleth for various reasons beyond this scope of this post. I was kind of hoping there were some Edelgard/Hubert or Edelgard/Dorothea character study stuff that could help me get past how much Byleth gets in the way of Edelgard's character growth, but it seems fanfic writers only want to write about her and Byleth, which is a bummer.

On that note, I'm also surprised but also glad that Dimitri/Edelgard isn't a big thing. I thought it might be because tragedy of childhood friends turned enemies by events out of their control is popular. These two seem wildly incompatible though, so I'm glad people seem to agree.

Claude's Ships

Ok. Claude/Byleth. Expected. I'm feel positively towards the ship since they seem mostly good for each other even if it's not getting my heart all fluttering.

I'm surprised there's no Claude/Petra or Claude/Hilda. Those two are my personal favorites for him. I would've given Claude/Petra the edge given how they can uniquely relate to each other, but Hilda's scene in CF really gave Petra a run for her money. Even more so that Petra and Claude have obligations to two different nations and Hilda has no such complication.

But whattttt???? Claude/Dimitri? It's in the top 10?? More people ship Dimitri with Claude than Dedue?? I thought lord/lord might be popular, but I honestly thought Dimitri/Edelgard would take it, not Claude/Dimitri. They never really talk. So I'm a bit confused about this one. Though, intrigued by the idea.

Can I take a wild guess this partly stems from Claude having no real other viable M/M ships outside of M!Byleth and fics that plays up the chapter I'm about to play in AM (Dimitri saving Claude) or "what ifs" VW routes where Dimitri doesn't . . . you know.

I am really curious about this dynamic though. Because I like Claude - a lot. He's a character I want to get attached to. From experience, the fastest way for me to like a character is to give them a significant relationship I enjoy with a character I already love and the new character gets absorbed by proxy. So, fans, please, tell me more about this Dimitri/Claude. I am curious.

Dimitri's Ships

I am as unsurprised by Dimitri's being one of the biggest repeat offenders on here as I am by Edelgard being Byleth or bust. If Edelgard is written to fanservice the player by making the self-insert her one and only, Dimitri is fanservicing the player by being a shipping magnet. The writers knew what they were doing and who they were trying to appeal to with these two characters.

Dimitri/Byleth is a given. The game plays up the romance angle, but it's not at the expense of Dimitri's other relationships.

What I'm more interested in, though, is Felix/Dimitri. Between angsty CF stories, post-AM slow-burns, or fleshing out missing scenes from their shared childhood, there's just a lot to work with and a rich context to use their relationship - spun romantically - to explore each character. Felix and Dimitri's relationship is layered, complicated, heart breaking, and potentially healing. The fact they're two incredibly attractive guys doesn't hurt its popularity either, I'm sure. I'm not surprised it ranked that highly.

Claude/Dimitri surprises me. If two lords were going to get on this list together, I would've put bets on Edelgard/Dimitri. Since Claude and Dimitri's relationship is fairly unexplored, I'm really interested to see more about what exactly this is about. Don't get me wrong. I figured people would pair two main characters who are that good looking together, I just didn't think it would rank that high.

I am, slightly sad, that Dimitri/Dedue isn't a bit higher, but happy it seems to have some steam. I get it though. Dedue's not as flashy as some of the others on the shipping list and their relationship is so full of fluff by their A support it lacks the angst Felix/Dimitri and Dimitri/Byleth can draw out nor is as much of a play around with "what ifs" as Claude/Dimitri is.

Non-Lords/Main Characters Ships:

This list, more than anything else, shows AO3's penchant for writing M/M and F/F works for better or worse. Whether this phenomena stems from lack of representation, fetishizing by the fanbase, deeply ingrained gender roles making fictional M/F ships either less appealing to many fanfic writers, or M/F romances often getting assumed leading to less substantial writing compared to friendships - I don't know. Probably all of it.

There are a few surprises here for me. Felix/Sylvain is that popular? I figured they'd make the top 10, but #1 is surprising. Though, looking through the first page of the tag, it's true Felix/Sylvain have fics just for them, but it also seems like a common pairing in Dimitri/Byleth and Dimitri/Claude fics. It's the same story with Caspar/Linhardt, who I honestly didn't expect to see. They had a fair number of their own fics, but it seems many CF fics put them together rather than focus solely on them. Felix/Annette also balances being the main focus and an adjunct pairing. Marianne/Hilda seemed to have less fics where they took center stage and more they were one of many ships listed.

Ferdinand/Hubert having a lot of fics isn't surprising. I don't really care too much for it personally, but I can see the appeal of it.

I'm surprised Catherin/Shamir is nowhere in sight. Likewise, Rhea is absolutely nowhere. Kind of sad by the lack of adult characters in general. Especially Rhea. I think it's a pretty big sign of how the writing's treated her that such an important character is totally absent in this list.

Not surprised at all to see Felix also get so many ships. He, like Dimitri, seems designed on purpose to ship with many characters. I do really wish Dorothea and Seteth would get more attention though.

What do you guys think? Anything that surprised you? How do you feel about any of these ships and there popularity or lack thereof? Are there characters/pairings you wish got more attention? Any popular ships you despise (spill that tea)?

[queenmuzz]

A Seed of Truth

A Fluffy Vergil x Reader One Shot

Life went on as usual in the peaceful island city of Fortuna.  Lord Sparda ruled with a benevolent hand over the people with his wife, Lady Eva, nurturing the arts and culture of the populace.  They were the perfect couple, each combining their strengths and abilities, to lead the island into a golden age.

And then there were their sons, the twins Vergil and Dante.  While the Lord and Lady were quite too busy to make regular appearances to the common folk, the Princes were not that restrained.  Prince Dante was regularly seen chatting at the market, buying up lots of strawberries, while slipping the kids little chocolates and candies when he thought their parents weren’t looking, before racing off on his custom built bike.

Prince Vergil, on the other hand, was a bit more reserved.  You’d seen him at your place of work, the library, deep in a book, or in the Fortuna Gardens, admiring the flowers, giving off an aura  that he didn’t want to be disturbed.  But when someone mustered up the courage to talk to him, he was kind and courteous, especially when the subject turned to his interests, such as literature, or gardening.  He was a man of few words, unlike his brother, but he never minced words, always preferring to speak the truth over flattering speech.

What both men had in common though, was they were both devilishly handsome.  With their father’s bone white hair, and their mother’s elegant facial features, the two men could look good in anything, whether it was formal outfits, as well their casual clothes (Usually a red leather motorcycle jacket for Dante, and a dark blue turtleneck for Vergil).  And with both of them single and available, there was a large part of the city gossiping on who they might choose to settle down with.

So it happened you were in the market with your friend, Sarah, one beautiful spring day when you heard the sound of trumpets, and the clanging of the City Herald’s bell, signaling an announcement.  The crowds began to converge to the centre of the piazzo.  Ripples of excitement fluttered rapidly as everyone realized that the herald was not alone.  There, standing behind the man were the twin Princes, both in their formal royal attire. Dante beamed like the cat that caught the canary, while Vergil...looked more like the canary that had been caught.  You almost felt bad at how uncomfortable he looked, surrounded by so many people, but if he was here despite how much he disliked crowds, this meant whatever was about to be announced was very important.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!” the herald announced, clanging his bell one last time, and the crowd was silenced.  Satisfied that he would not be interrupted, the herald continued.

“A ROYAL ANNOUNCEMENT!  PRINCE VERGIL HAS DECIDED IT IS TIME FOR HIM TO MARRY!” A gasp came from the crowd, then cheers, which Vergil did his best to ignore.  The herald rang his bell again.

“HE HAS DECIDED TO CHOOSE A LADY FROM AMONG THE YOUNG WOMEN OF THIS FAIR CITY!”  Another sharp gasp, but everyone was so flabbergasted, the herald didn’t have to settle them down.  “IN ORDER TO HELP HIM DECIDE, ANY YOUNG LADY WISHING TO PROVE HERSELF IS TO TAKE A TEST!”  Two servants carried a sheet covered wicker basket, placing it in front of the herald, and then they carefully removed the linen  “IN THIS BASKET, ARE SEEDS OF THE WHITE  CHRYTHANSEUM  FLOWER!  ALL…” the herald attempted to form a word that didn’t sound so awkward, but failed, “APPLICANTS ARE INSTRUCTED TO TAKE AND PLANT ONE PINCH OF SEEDS.  WHEN THE FALL MARKET FAIR ARRIVES, ALL LADIES ARE TO BRING THEIR PLANTS TO BE JUDGED, AND PRINCE VERGIL WILL PICK THE ONE WHO HAS GROWN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ONE!  A WOMAN WHO CAN GROW SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY, WILL PROVE THAT SHE HAS THE QUALITIES THE PRINCE LOOKS FOR!”

“That seems rather...shallow,” Sarah muttered as already, every young eligible woman pushed aside the crowds to make a beeline to the basket, “but who am I to judge?  Besides…” she grinned, “he’s pretty good looking.” “Yes, Prince Vergil is rather handsome,” you admitted.  

Sarah did a double-take, “Nah, I meant prince Dante, I wouldn’t mind if he bent me over his motorcycle and-”

“They’re twins! They’re virtually identical!”

“In looks, yeah...but personality, they’re night and day… and I prefer the day.” She looked at you expectedly, “Well, what are you waiting for?  Go get in line!” “I couldn’t…” you protested.

“Oh come on...it’ll be fiiine, you’re a pretty good gardener, I’ve seen the plants you keep in your rooftop garden, you’ll grow the best fricken’ chryth-  chrythan…”

“Chrysthanthemums,” you clarified…”You can call them ‘mums’, that’s what a lot of people do. And…” you stared at the ever growing line of women.  “Well, I suppose, worst case scenario, I’ll have a pretty flower for the autumn season”, and so, you went to the end of the line, ready to get your chance to spend your life with the handsome, aloof, but intelligent prince.  As you took your place, you heard Sarah murmur, “I hope Prince Dante has a motorcycle race as a contest….”

Eventually, you got to the front of the line, and were given a pinch of seeds.  You tried to keep your eyes averted from the two princes, as you wrapped them in a handkerchief, but you couldn’t help but glance up, to see the younger prince, still beaming, while his older brother stood stiffly, his brows furrowed, his arms crossed.

“This is a terrible idea, brother.”  You heard Vergil mutter.

“Nah, this,” Dante spread his arm out, “this is the perfect way to find the lady of your dreams.” “None of these women seem to possess the qualities I desire…” “Well, leave your pessimism until the fall...you can beat my ass if you don’t find what you’re looking for.”

*******

You got home, and quickly brought out a shallow glazed blue pot out from your shed. It would be the perfect starter pot for it to sprout, before you could transplant into a flower pot proper.  And then, you carefully poured a layer of sandy soil, before gently unwrapping the handkerchief and sprinkling the seeds onto the moist dirt.  There was something...off about the seeds...like they were too clean, but you paid it no mind.  These were most likely from the Fortuna Castle Gardens, so they were top quality, so even if you didn’t pay attention to the plant, you would most likely grow better than the average flower.  But you weren’t just going to neglect this chance of a lifetime.  

Measuring out precise amounts of fertilizer, and a bit of water, not too much, not too little, you were going to put your life and soul into this plant.  So much so, that the Prince would feel your love and care radiating out of each and every petal.

******* Ten days passed, with you constantly making sure that the soil wasn’t too moist, to discourage mildew, and keeping it under a fluorescent light, and yet no bright green sprouts poked out.  That was alright, the flower had a variable growing period, you had a nearly two week span for it to begin to sprout.  Every Morning, you had a routine.  You’d wake up, and while your breakfast toast browned, you’d check on the pot, giving it a sprinkle of water, and when needed, a dusting of fertilizer, before setting it back up to face the light.  And each night, you’d give it a final check, occasionally singing it a lullaby.  Yes, it was silly, but you couldn’t help but do everything to help it grow

But nearly a month later, still nothing.  You bit your knuckle as you paced your rooftop garden, the pot now being placed in the sunshine during the day, some netting to protect it from birds and rodents, trying to figure out why there hadn’t been any sprouts.  Perhaps the breed was a slow growing one, saving up energy for a robust bloom in the fall.  Yes, that would be the reason.  But, to ease your mind, you decided to check out with some of your acquaintances that had participated in the competition.  Nothing too intrusive, not spying, just to see how everything was going for them.

Your downstairs neighbor, a young woman who worked at the corner cafe, smiled when you asked how progress was going.  “It’s going wonderful!” she exclaimed, and quickly showed off her pot.  To your dismay, the healthy shoots spiked out two inches out of the soil, a good week and half of growth. “Yours must be twice this size!” your neighbor gushed, “you’re such a good person with all types of plants!  Do you mind showing me?” “I uh..” you scrambled to find an excuse, “I don’t want to disturb the growing plants more than necessary at this stage,” which was true, if your plant had a chance of growing healthy at this point, it couldn’t be put under any stress.

“Ah, understandable...well,” she looked back at her plant like a loving mother looking proudly at her baby, “May the best gardener win!” 

The door shut in your face, as you glumly went up the stairs to your apartment…

Yes, may the best gardener win…

*********

Summer came with a flash of heat, and even though your flowers hadn’t even so much peeked out of the soil, you continually did your routine of watering, fertilizing, and caring for the apparently lifeless pot.  You still had hope...you HAD to keep up hope.  One of those seeds had to be viable, just waiting to burst out like one of those prank snakes in a can….but nothing.

It didn’t help that everywhere you went, from your work at the library, to the market, all you could hear was women bragging about how healthy, how large, and how vibrant their budding plants were.  In fact, some of the ladies would go in public, either carrying their plants to show them off, with glossy green leaves, or if they were upper class, have a servant follow behind them, lugging the pot around, like a governess watching over their child.

Unfortunately, a new law had to be passed, after a half dozen women got into a full out brawl in the piazza, each fighting for the right to having the ‘best’ chrysanthemum, to ban the carrying of plants in the marketplace, except for the purposes of sale.  Thankfully, the only casualties of the savage fight was several pots and their unfortunate occupants….and the hopes and dreams of their owners.

And yet, seeing all these plants, hearing the boasts about how well they grew, just depressed you.  You had worked so, so hard… and nothing.  How could you show up with a pot of dirt, while surrounded by such wonderful specimens?  You might as well drop out of the contest, and save yourself the humiliation.

Two weeks before the Fall market fair was set to begin, Sarah came over to your house.  You hadn’t let anyone in, ashamed at your failure, terrified you’d be laughed out of town for not being able to raise a plant as hardy and simple to grow as a Chrysanthemum.  But...Sarah was different, she didn’t have a stake in the whole contest.

“How’s the Chryth- I mean the Mum growing business?” She innocently asked, unaware of your summer of troubles “it’s gotta be, like six feet tall, with your skills.  Prince Vergil’s gonna be knocked out of his royal pants when he sees yours, eh?”

It was time to break the truth, both to your friend… and yourself.  “I’m… I’m not going to the fair.”

It took Sarah a moment, while she blinked, once, twice...three times.  

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT GOING?!”

You led her up to the rooftop, the sun of a late afternoon warming the nape of your neck, to show her the shallow blue pot, without a hint of green. “Nothing grew...I did everything I was supposed to, I watered, I fertilized, I made sure it wasn’t too cold or too hot...and still...nothing”  Even now, you tried to make sure the tears that dribbled down your cheeks didn’t splash into the soil, salt water would be bad for the seeds.  “I can’t go...can’t show everyone what a failure I was.  Everyone else will have beautiful flowers, and all I’ll have...is this.”

Sarah rubbed your shoulder in support, but her voice was firm.  “You should still bring it.  I know you, I know you put a heart and soul into raising those seeds, I can feel it.  Bring it to the fair, and if Prince Vergil can’t sense about how much love you shoved into every seed, then fuck him, he ain’t worth your time.”  She wiped your tears with a tissue, helping you calm down.  Perhaps she had a point. You had done everything you could, you couldn’t be blamed for neglect.  “Honestly, your mum is personally my favourite all this year.”

Perplexed, you looked at your friend.

“Everyone is growing these damn things. I think I’m gonna puke if I get another whiff of a mum.   Yours smells the nicest.”

At least, Sarah’s sense of humour lightened your spirits, if only a little.

*******

Sarah wasn’t wrong.  The overpowering smell of hundreds of white blooms blotted over the traditional scents of the autumn fair, such as apple pie or roast pork.  And instead of the the mooing and baaing of prizewinning cows and sheep, all you could hear were the titterings and gossip of the young women of the city, each bragging about how hard they worked to grow their flowers, how much love and care they’d placed into each glossy leaf, on how it was a certainty that they’d catch the Prince’s eye.

You tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible, and mostly you succeeded, as everyone was more focused on their own plant, or giving out disapproving looks at their nearby rival’s.  But every so often, a lady would look down confused at your pot, before giving a small pitying smile.  You could even tell your otherwise perfectly nice downstairs neighbor was secretly relieved that she didn’t have any competition from you.

The only one who paid attention to you, without judgement, was Sarah, who gave you an encouraging smile.

“After this, let’s go to the bar and get so plastered you forget this entire summer, my treat!” she chirped, and you couldn’t help but smile.  In truth, you really wanted to wipe this whole debacle out of your memory for the rest of your life.  Just a few more minutes to go….

The sound of the herald’s bell silenced the crowd, and all the contestants stood up a bit straighter, some checking both their dresses and plants one last time, ready to present their best.  Even you couldn’t help doing the same.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!”  The stiff man called out, ringing his bell one last time.  “THE JUDGMENT WILL NOW BEGIN,”  a group of finely dressed people, apparently the judges, stood up, but the Herald continued, “WITH BOTH PRINCE DANTE AND PRINCE VERGIL AS THE FINAL ARBITRATORS.”  Everyone, including yourself, did a collective gulp as the familiar colours of Crimson and Azure appeared on the platform.  Both men were dressed to perfection, their gold tasseled lapels shining in the fall sunlight, their black pants perfectly pressed.  But their looks on their faces seemed cold...almost upset.  Even the usually jovial smile on the younger twin was gone, replaced by a worried frown.  But that was nothing in comparison with Vergil’s face.  He looked...disgusted.  Surrounded by some of the most gorgeous flowers you had ever seen, and he yet, seemed to be repulsed by them all as his eyes scanned the crowd.  If these plants weren’t up to his high standards, your pot didn’t have a chance.

“I told you this was a terrible idea…” you heard him mutter, presumably to his brother, “Not a single woman has what I am looking for...the dishonesty of it all. When we get home, I don’t care how much mother protests, you will regret ever suggestin-” he stopped.  His eyes were fixed at one point, and everyone followed his line of sight…

that led to you and your little barren pot. 

Without warning, Prince Vergil quickly stepped down the wooden stairs, his footsteps steady but his frantic pace betraying something more.  Even now, as he approached, you thought that maybe he was looking at the lady beside you, a smaller than average plant, but one with many, many healthy white blooms.  That MUST be who he was interested in.  His face wasn’t as upset as before, but you couldn’t tell what his exact feelings were.  But as he got closer, now a few paces away, his eyes never left you, and you couldn’t help it, you averted your eyes, partially out of deference, partially out of fear.  Was he offended that you had dared bring this failure to be judged?  Your heart pounded so loud, you could barely make out the sound of his footsteps stopping before you, the only reason you could tell he was there, was his shiny black leather shoes halting in front of you.

“Your name?” he demanded, but not as harshly as you had feared.  You gave it out, your voice trembling.

“And this…” his long, elegant fingers grazed against the edge of the blue glaze, “is your attempt at growing a White Chrysanthemum?”  Strange, you’d expected him to be dismissive, but there was a sense of earnestness in the questition. You nodded, trying to get the words out.  “Y-yes, My Lord.  I did...I did everything I could...I watered, I fertilized, I gave the seeds all the sunlight it could ever need, but…” You couldn’t keep back the sob that burst from your throat, and tears dribbled down your cheeks.  You were so ashamed at your failure.

Unexpectedly, you felt warm fingers on your chin, gently lifting your face up, to finally look up at him.  You’d never been so close to the Prince before, and he was even more handsome up close.  And that hard expression that once there, was gone, replaced by something that confused you.  It looked like...admiration?  But for what?

“You were the only one, out of everyone here,” he spoke softly, for your ears alone, “who didn’t hide behind lies...you did all you could, and didn’t hide your supposed ‘failure.’” The way he emphasised that last word puzzled you and you gave him a quizzical look.  He smiled softly and pulled out a silk blue handkerchief to wipe your tears away.  

“Ladies and Gentleman!”  Dante strode up to front of the platform, temporarily ripping everyone’s attention from you and the Prince.  He had a grin that looked like he had been keeping it in for weeks, or even months. “I’d like to make a VERY IMPORTANT announcement.”  He took a breath, obviously savouring the moment.  “You see, when we gave out those seeds...well, before we brought them out...we boiled them, the entire batch.  Therefore…” he trailed off allowing the quicker members assembled to place the pieces together. “None of the seeds should be growing anything, you might as well used them for bug spray”  

Panicked gasps came from the women, each rapidly looking at each other, and then down at the pots they held.  A sound of shattering clay as several pots smashed from being dropped by some of the shocked ladies, who quickly ran for the exit of the fair, the crowds parting away for them.

Dante yanked the bell out of the Herald’s hand, and rang it, signalling everyone to settle down.  “See, what my dear brother wanted in a woman wasn’t a good gardener, although there’s nothing wrong with that.  Verg’s pretty handy at growing stuff…” his grin softened to genuine pride, “No, what he wanted was a woman who could be truthful to him, not try to flatter him with lies to soothe his pride and ego… And trust me, his ego is as big as it is....”

Vergil swung his head over to his younger brother, scowling momentarily, cutting the speech off.  But, slowly, he turned back to you, his fingers stroking the rapidly dry tear tracks on your cheeks.  “I..know this… whole turn of events is rather sudden and unexpected...but...will,” he struggled with the words, the first time you had ever seen him this nervous, “will you take me?”

Your eyes watered up with tears, but not out of grief, but of happiness.  You smiled, and nodded, not trusting your voice to say anything.  He almost seemed surprised at your assent, standing stock still  momentarily, before his smile blossomed fully as he took your hand and led you through the quickly parting crowds, as a large amount of cheers erupted in congratulations, celebrating Fortuna’s newest Princess.  

You felt a brush against your shoulder, and heard the voice of Sarah’s at your ear.  “I knew you could do it!” She was barely audible above the crowd, “Now...would Your Royal Highness mind putting a good word for me with Prince Dante?...”

Tagging    mandyvc  (won’t let me tag you for some reason)

[shadowthief78]

Lucky Star

(GN!Reader/Diluc)

He's never seen someone as carefree as you. You laugh until your stomach aches, steal apples for their orchards and sips of wine from any unattended glasses in the tavern, dance until your shoes split beneath the moonlight. You toss your life fast and loose like a pair of dice, betting, betting, always betting on the gods's favor and always winning it despite the lack of a Vision.

Some call it foolishness, some call it luck, but all he knows is that you have something he doesn't.

-

You first meet one frosty autumn day amids the bare apple trees. He stops in the space between rows, stares up at you, silhouetted agains the gray-white sky and framed by the spindly black branches.

You ignore him, only reaching up to snatch another frostbitten apple from the tree. Yesterday, he could have been certain that the only fruit left was rotten and riddles with worms, but the one you now hold is shiny and crisp, perfect in all aspects save the light layer of ice on its surface.

"What are you doing?" He asks. You open an eye and glance down.

"Nothing that concerns you," you respond, then close your eye and bite into the apple. He can hear the sharp snap of the flesh. It makes him hungry - breakfast was too long ago and lunch is too far away.

"I live here?" He says.

"Don't sound so certain now, do you?" You say, then pluck a stray leaf, twirl it in your fingers, and let it drop. You aren't even looking at him, staring into Dragonspine in the distance.

"I live here," he says, without a tremor in his voice this time. "You're eating our apples."

"Someone's got to," you tell him. "They'll go bad otherwise. And isn't the harvest done? I though people in Mondstadt are supposed to let wanderers like me pick through the leftovers."

He can't argue with you because you're right, as long as he can remember his father has let anyone who wishes to pick the fields after a harvest. He settles for sputtering indignantly, "You might hurt the tree."

"I won't," you say, sounding so certain that he falls silent.

"Aren't you cold?" He says, noticing your worn and patched clothing. He's cold, even wrapped up in a coat. "Do you want to come in?"

"I'm fine. I have to practice," you say. You look at him for the first time. "I'm going there, you know." You point to the mountain. "Dragonspine. I'm going to climb it and see the world from the summit."

If it were anyone else, he would have called their bluff. You, he just nods and accepts your statement. You're going to climb Dragonspine one day and nobody can stop you.

-

You turn up again the next day, wrapped up in your scrappy cape and napping on top of a few hay bales in the stable. The horses look remarkably unbothered for having a hurricane in human form in their midst, one even nosing your makeshift mattress and nibbling around the edges of your hood.

"I hope you don't mind," the stablehand says to him. "They asked to sleep for the night and it was cold, I couldn't just toss them out. I though Master Crepus wouldn't mind. . ."

Diluc isn't sure to be happy or not. Kaeya laughs at him when he says he's twice met someone who wants to explore Dragonspine later at dinner.

-

The third time you turn up, it's when he's been called to stop you from splashing in the fountain in the middle of Mondstadt Plaza. It's an unusually warm day in early spring and he hasn't seen hide nor hair of you since the beginning of winter, and a little part of him is grateful you haven't frozen or fallen to your death (your gliding is atrocious), but a larger part wants to ask you why you're still here when a self-proclaimed wanderer like you should already be onto the next city.

"Why, Mister Apples, we meet again," is your greeting to him and the pair of knight trainees behind him. "Been to Dragonspine lately?"

"Nobody goes to Dragonspine during winter," he says. "It's too cold."

You shrug and go back to kicking your feet in the clear water. "Not for me."

"You can't wade in the fountain," he says once he realizes there's no point arguing with you.

"Can too," you counter, hiking your pants up and walking around the fountain in a stiff-legged gait. "See? It's most definitely possible."

One of the knights behind him snickers. Your eyes gleam. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had a condition that doesn't allow you to wade in fountains. My condolences for your loss, Mister Apples. A terrible shame, it is, not being able to wade."

"I can wade in a fountain," he says, grumpy. "And don't call me Apples."

"Mister Apples," you correct. "Why not? You never gave me your name and I do seem to recall you are quite particular about those apples."

"My name is Diluc," he says, then realizes that the way you beam means he's played right into your hands. "And nobody's allowed to wade in this fountain, get out before I have to write you up for it."

You shrug, pick up your bag, and make a beeline to the shallow water near the flowerbeds. He doesn't know what he expected.

-

The next time your paths cross, he realizes he doesn't know your name. When he asks you smile with your eyes closed, a wide grin streching across your face.

"Why so curious, Master Diluc?" His name is a mockery on your lips. You enjoy polarizing the simple things, double sided words and outright lies falling from your mouth, but they all sound believable and reasonable when you deliver them with your silver tongue.

"It's annoying talking about someont whose name I don't kmow," he says. "You know mine. Don't most people give their names when they meet?"

"Ahh, but I am not most people," you say, tipping your barstool back and sliding a piece across the chessboard. "I am very far from most people in many ways."

"Most people don't want to climb Dragonspine," he says and moves a pawn two spaces forward. "How about this, if I beat you this game you'll tell me your name."

"A wager? I'll warn you, I've never lost on in my life," you say. "And what do I get if I win?"

"An apple," he says, making you laugh.

"Why, is my name not worth more than an apple to you?" You tease. "Very well then, your move," you say, gesturing to the board.

-

The last time he sees you, you're carrying a sack of potatoes and traipsing around outside despite the rain. He flags you over and pauses. He doesn't know what he meant to say.

"Master Diluc, lord of all apples in Mondstadt," you drawls, filling in the silence for him. "To what do I owe the pleasure? State your business in less than three sentances, I have many responsibilities to finish and not much time to do them."

"Since when have you had responsibities?" He says. You laugh.

"Since I persuaded a merchant to drag me and all my supplies to Dragonspine tomorrow," you say, a touch of genuine pride in your voice. "We leave at dawn."

"Congradulations," he says. "Good luck out there."

"I won't need it," you say. "I'm lucky, and I always have been. You can keep your luck, and borrow some of mine."

"Is this my birthday present?" He ignores rain dripping down his collar and stares at you.

"I am you own personal lucky star, how generous of me," you agree. You heft your potaotes in your arms and nod to the interiour of the tavern. "Looks like they're missing their little princeling."

"I'm not a prince," he says, but he turns arouns and opens the door.

"Happy eighteenth birthday," you say from behind him. "From me, the monarch of misfits and leige of luck, regent of rogues and liars, diety of all who wander."

"A little conceited to give yourself such titles, isn't it?"

You bow, ever elegant even when covered in dirt and carrying starchy lumps covered in rough hemp. "I suspect we won't see each other again for some time, Lord Apples."

"I hope we will sometime," he says, making you smile.

"In that case, until next time, Diluc."

-

"Dragonspine?" He echoes as the Traveller explains their plans. "Good luck up there. If you run across someone called (Y/N), tell them hello from me."

[lag1995-fics]

Hey can I request a fanfic for Evan's character kit walker and song a turning page from twilight?

I hope you like it thank you for requesting. ❤️

Turning Page

Song:Turning Page by Sleeping at Last

Pairing: Kit Walker X Reader

Warnings: some cussing

Words: 2010

Summary:Kit’s highschool sweetheart waits for him

Song Fic Masterlist

////::::////

You and Kit Walker had been high school sweethearts, he was your first love; and if you were being honest he was your only love. You guys had mutually broken things off after highschool when you had gotten into an out of state college.

When you came back the first time after getting your degree, you found out that Kit had moved on and married a woman called Alma. You weren’t jealous, a little disappointed maybe, but you were genuinely happy for them. Kit was a good man and you had always known he would make a good husband. You couldn’t put yourself through watching them though, you had never given up on your relationship with Kit. He had ruined you for other men. You had other boyfriends during school but the longest relationship had only lasted a month.

You decided to move back to Boston leaving your small town life behind. You loved a relatively happy life in the city, distracting yourself from the life you wished you had. You had gotten a degree in education, so you threw yourself into teaching children.

You had been happy to hear that they had apparently apprehended the serial killer, who went by the bloody face moniker. Well you had until they said it was Kit Walker, you reasoned with yourself that it had to be someone else named Kit Walker. Your Kit would never be able to do something as heinous as what they claimed Bloodyface did. Your Kit was a gentle soul, who would do his best to bring happiness and peace to anyone he might meet.

When you saw his face flash on the evening news that night you had broken down and sobbed. Kit was being framed for a murder he hadn’t committed. He wouldn’t even kill a spider much less the woman he married. You had started making calls trying to get on as a character witness. That whole town was racist and this stunk of a town coverup.

They wouldn’t let you be his witness though, they claimed you hadn’t spoken to him for over six years. You had screamed and cried even harder when they rejected you. You had never stopped loving Kit even if it had to be one sided from afar. You wrote him letters trying to convey to him that people still believed in him. That you would always love and believe him.

He never wrote you back. The guards at the prison who checked his mail had scoffed thinking of you as some loon and had trashed them. When he was committed to Briarcliff Asylum they too disposed of the many letters.

When you hear of Kit’s death you fall into a dark depression. You’re barely hanging on, when you happen to skim a blip in a newspaper. You almost choke when you see his face. He’s a bit older, but it is unmistakably Kit Walker. The article however was not a happy one: the man’s wife Alma had murdered a woman that lived with them in a fit of apparent hysteria.

Without preamble you packed a suitcase and began the trip back home. Kit would need you, not as a lover, that ship had sailed but he would need you as a friend. He was almost entirely alone now and with two toddlers to boot. You couldn’t help but feel the joythat he was alive even though it was steeped in sadness at his tragic loss.

Alma had been a sweet girl from what she could tell. She had never met her in person but if Kit married her it was apparent that she was a good person. She had been missing for so long though, she had been traumatized and snapped. It wasn’t her fault that bad things had happened and lord knows that the country's mental health system left a lot to be desired.

It had taken you almost all day to find the farmhouse that Kit lived in. It was dusk and the sun was starting to set. You took a steadying breath hoping that you weren’t overstepping any boundaries. You had flown out of the house with barely any thought, relying mostly on instinct. You hadn’t been able to help Kit when he was accused of being Bloodyface but you could certainly help now without the government involved.

You eased yourself out of the old Buick you were driving and shut the door. You began to make your way to the door but it opened before you got the chance to knock. There he was, he was still handsome as ever, but he had lost that carefree air he had when they were young. You supposed you had probably lost that too.

“I already told you I’m not doing an interview, leave my family in peace!” His voice was angry and you were now unsure if you had made the right decision. Then as if he hadn’t really been looking at you before, his eyes widened.

“Y/n?” He asked questioningly the anger had drained from his voice.

“Oh Kit I heard what happened I needed to make sure you were okay,” you explained trying not to cringe. You probably seemed like a crazy person showing up at your highschool sweetheart’s home after his wife had murdered someone.

“I thought you lived in Boston?” He questioned, still surprised at your arrival.

“I do, I hopped in my car as soon as I heard, I thought you might need some help. If I’m imposing I apologize… I can leave,” you were rambling, it was something you were prone to when nervous.

“No! Uh I mean no, you could never be an imposition doll. Come inside, I didn’t think anyone cared about me anymore,” he lamented, meeting her halfway on her way to the house. You got a better look at him up close. He still had beautiful brown eyes but there were dark bruise like bags underneath them. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well, and really who would after something like this happened.

You followed Kit inside his home, it still smelt of the bleach they used to get up the blood, but it was warm and cozy. You looked over and could see the two toddlers playing together on a rug with some blocks.

“This is Julia and Thomas,” he said, gesturing to the kids who barely spared them a glance.

“They’re precious,” you commented.

“Yeah they are pretty great, must take after their old man,” he bragged teasingly but it was half hearted.

“Kit,Are you okay?” You asked, laying a hand on.

“I will be,” there was a determination in his voice this time looking at the children playing happily unaware.

“If you need anything at all just tell me” you begged, hoping he would take the help. This trip wasn’t entirely unselfish, you had missed Kit the moment you left for college and the feeling had never left. It hadn’t faded with time like these things are meant to do, you had never stopped loving Kit and you would wait a thousand years if that’s what it took. You didn’t expect any romance, you knew that ship had sailed, but you would be there for your dearest and oldest friend.

“Don’t you have a life or a lover in Boston, surely you don’t want to spend time with someone as pathetic as me.” His self deprecating comment made you jerk him by the arm so he was facing you.

“You listen to me Kit Walker, you are one of the most gentle humans I’ve ever met. You are an incredibly good man and you deserve all the love and help in the world. Let someone help you, you don’t have to go through this alone,” You declared, staring directly into his brown eyes with your own y/e/c ones.

He only nodded before taking you into a friendly hug holding you close to his chest, his head buried into your shoulder. You felt a shuddering sob wrack through him. You only held him, you didn’t know how much time had passed as you held him close letting him sob. When he finally pulled away you could see the gratitude in his eyes.

****

Days bled into weeks and weeks bled into months as you stayed with Kit. Things for the most part remained platonic apart from a few lingering glances from each other. You didn’t want to put any pressure on the relationship. You had meant what you said when you told him you were here to help him. You would love Kit however you could get him be it romantic or platonic. You would always wait on him.

When he had come home one day in tears you had just held him. Alma had died that day and Kit had lost his wife for a third time and the children had lost their mother’s.

More time would pass and things became increasingly comfortable between you two. You had taken a teaching position at the elementary school the next town over and Kit continued to work as a mechanic.

It had been a day like many others when it happened. Kit had come home covered in a layer of oil and grease and you had been making dinner. After he had showered, he came into the kitchen to watch you cook and help Julia and Thomas with their homework. It was really quite domestic.

After dinner you had wrestled the children into bed and retired to the living room to watch television. You had felt the burning of Kit’s eyes on you and you turned to look at him pulling a face.

“Why did you stay?” He asked with a puzzled look on his face, “Your help has been indispensable, but it’s a year now and your still here. Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“Oh, I can start looking for an apartment. I never wanted to overstay my welcome. I guess I just got comfortable being around you and the twins, is like breathing air” You rambled hiding your burning cheeks. He wouldn’t take that though and he grabbed you by your shoulders making you look at him.

“Doll I’m not kicking you out, you can stay forever if you want. I just don’t understand why you would want to stay with me,” he said and you gulped looking into his eyes.

“Oh Kit you’re the best person I know. Did you not get that with the hundreds of letters I sent to you in prison and while you were at Briarcliff” you joked trying to lessen the tension. You had never brought up the letters before you were honestly pretty embarrassed by them.

“What letters!?” He pulled back looking hard at you.

“I wrote to you everyday up until they announced your death” you explained cheeks filled with liquid fire.

“Fuck! He cursed getting up and pacing.

“I never got a single letter, y/n” he said and you not knowing what to do approached him opening your arms. He fell into your embrace burying his face in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked unsure of what to say.

“Don’t be sorry doll, but it still doesn’t explain why you want to be around me” He started in again and you couldn't help the anger that spilled forward. You took your fist and hit his chest.

“Because I love you dummy, I never stopped,” his eyes went wide at your declaration.

“What?” He asked dumbly, his limbs going numb.

“I love you Kit and I’ll always be there for you if you need me. If it’s only as a friend I can live with that, at least I get to be with you,” Your cheeks burned for the third time in what seemed like an hour.

Kit not knowing what to say decided to act on instinct. He gathered you in his arms and pressed his lips against your own in a searing kiss. You clutched at each other desperately the tension finally snapped.

“I love you too Doll.”

Requests are open drop a song or a prompt in my ask box ❤️

[bisexual-inuyasha]

The Hook

Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

Prompt: “I shouldn’t be here.” “Well you are. Don’t even think about leaving.”

The next morning, Ling woke up alone. Ed had reminded him Al expected him back. And besides, Ling was all talk. He could kiss Edward Elric but anything more would have to wait until he dealt with his suitor situation. It wasn’t cheating, he knew. But that didn’t mean it was right.

Was he a suitor when he never bothered to ask? Ling’s eyes were itchy with lack of sleep. His cheek tingled from where he’d slept on it. God, mornings sucked. Especially early mornings after a late night.

Even still… he smiled. Last night had not been a total waste. He wrapped his fingers around something warm and smooth, something that had rested against his curled stomach through the night.

“Young Lord, I’ve brought you a snack before your meeting. You barely ate yesterday, so I brought extra.” Lan Fan’s voice carried through the doorway, especially loud. “Do you need anything to drink?”

“He’s gone, Lan Fan.” Ling sighed, sitting up. He was decidedly less dressed than when he’d gone to his rooms. By the time Ed left he was too tired to shrug into his sleep clothes. He’d been missing a shirt and his pants had already been half off. He’d just stripped into his undies and fallen asleep under a mountain of blankets.

“What’s that?” Lan Fan sat across from him, her legs crossed and posture careful. “A gift?”

“You could say that.”

It was only a small cat figure, crudely carved from a soft wood Ling had never gotten around to figuring out on his own.

“It’s. Um, cute?”

It wasn’t. It looked awful. Edward wasn’t artistically inclined in that way. Ling couldn’t care less. “Thank you.”

“Speaking of gifts, you’ve got another. It arrived this morning.” Lan Fan took a bite of Ling’s food. “You should eat.”

“What was the gift?” Ling scooped up a mouthful of rice. “Who was it from?”

“Not Edward Elric.” Lan Fan spoke around her food. “The other man you’re supposed to be involved with.”

Ling’s throat felt dry. He coughed. “We’ve certainly not been meant to be involved yet, Lan Fan. That won’t happen for another month. You know there’s quite a long engagement process in Xing.”

“Yes, Sire. I’m aware.” She closed her eyes. He watched as she considered for a moment. “When you are ready for my opinion I will be sure to give it.”

Irritation flared through Ling but he let it pass. Lan Fan was always free to give her opinion. The only thing putting him off was that he knew what her opinion was. And that she was right. He took a deep breath and pushed a smile onto his face. “I await the day.”

Today was not like the last two. He had so much to do. It was not like his engagement meant the kingdom stopped running. And his hands-on approach to ruling meant he couldn’t shove many duties onto his advisors and court. He was entangled in all of the decisions, from clan relations to trade negotiations. He had all the details and all the paperwork.

So he dragged himself up, splashing cool water on his face. Lan Fan raised an eyebrow at his undress.

“It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.”

“No, that’s true. I used to kick your ass when you’d wake up half naked after getting mugged in the Hua clans.”

“I wish you wouldn’t remind me of starving days.” Ling put on a pouty face. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to respect me now, Lan Fan? I’m working hard as emperor.”

“I have the utmost respect for you, Sire.” She smiled at him, and it was genuine. She wasn’t too angry at him, then. “I just want you to be careful. You are walking in a thin place. The thin places are difficult to keep you safe in.”

“You don’t have to protect me from everything, Lan Fan.” He gathered up his robes. With a celebration came the expectation of finery. “Though if you want to help me into this ridiculous outfit, I’d appreciate it.”

She did, and by the time his first round of consultation was to start, he was fully dressed. His hair was pulled back today, in the proper style. He arranged his expression into an indifferent coolness.

“Don’t forget, Sire. You’ve got the matter of the gift to deal with.”

His stomach clenched. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget it.”

When she wasn’t looking, Ling snuck the little cat into his pocket.

The mysterious suitor’s gift was on his mind through the whole morning. As his constituents asked about the borders of their fields and the negotiation, he ran his thumb over the figurine in his pocket and tried not to look towards the table where the gift waited for him.

A maze of questions and conflicts and negotiations later, he was being led to the gift. A no stuck in his throat. Refusal built like a physical pressure in his chest. The urge to leave was so strong his hands shook with it.

His advisors were clueless. And of all the days, Lan Fan was busy with other affairs. She wasn’t even in the palace. For the first time since he was inaugurated, a clammy sweat broke over his forehead.

He stood at the box. He didn’t care what was in it. It wouldn’t change his mind, whatever it was.

But accepting the gift was a furthering. For every step into Xingese tradition he took, the expectation he would follow through grew. Maybe this is why he just stood, staring at the box, for several minutes.

The longer he took, the heavier the silence around him grew.

Low rumbling started in the back of the crowd. A few people grumbled and a couple shouted as someone aggressively, and rudely, shoved their way through.

Ed pushed his way near the front, a notebook in his hand, his metal fingers clasped around a pen. Ling heard him shout over the thin wall of people ahead of him. “Well, get on with it. How else are any of us supposed to know what’s in it?”

Ling laughed. He pulled the fabric wrapping from the box. It was a nice enough fabric. From far away, the cloth had just looked like a boring eggwhite, but up close he could see damasked swirls twisting around the corners. The box was equally almost boring--cream, slightly darker, with a line of gold around the opening. His expectations were low.

And good thing.

The gift was a simple, expensive shaving set. Ling felt like this was something Fu would have enjoyed. However, he, with his lack of facial hair and attachment to his other bodily hair, had no use for it. He quirked a brow, put the nice, ivory handled blade back into the oversized box beside the crystal container of what he could only assume was cologne. Maybe?

A single boom of laughter sounded from the general vicinity of Ed, but no one else seemed to think anything of the gift. And then, to his horror, one of his advisors cleared their throat.

“For when he is here, Sire. To shave your husband.”

Ling carefully closed the box. He was trying, and failing, to look nonchalant.

“Sire, should we respond with a gift in kind?”

Ling ground his teeth. “I will be in my room, crafting a response for my… suitor.”

He’d chosen the word specifically for its connotation of uncertainty. A suitor has not been accepted yet. The advisors all glared, and a few of the crowd closest to him gasped. He could feel the burning in his cheeks. Anger, embarrassment, and maybe a smidge of disappointment flooded his thoughts. He needed to be out of here.

Murmuring grew behind him, growing to a small roar as the heavy doors to the court closed behind him.

It was hard to stomp through all his layers but he did his best.

The kitchens were busy when he arrived. Lan Fan was elbow deep in a bowl of dumpling filling. She took one look at his face and picked up the bowl to move towards him.

“We should go, Sire,” she finished kneading the ingredients together and dumped the bowl into the arms of another kitchenhand. “Your face may frighten the staff.”

He shuttered his expression, pushing the emotions and thoughts deep inside until he could be somewhere private. It was not easy, and from Lan Fan’s face he could tell he was not fully successful. He tried, though, and that was the best he could do.

“It was bad?” Lan Fan spoke under her breath while she washed her hands.

He couldn’t speak on it. It was insulting, actually. The kind of gift given to a stranger. But worse so, because it was a gift truly meant for the gifter--a gift of expectation. A note that said one day, he expected Ling to serve him.

He did not become Emperor to serve over-confident old men.

The thought made him bristle. His face contorted into a sneer, despite his best efforts to keep a neutral expression. He turned away, so that only Lan Fan could see him. “It is best discussed somewhere else.”

She didn’t respond, only dried her hands and hurried from the room. Ling followed, though he could only go so fast without tripping over the length of his robes. The hindrance was especially frustrating, and even more so because he wanted to move. To push himself, quicken his steps and his body until he couldn’t hardly breathe.

He already didn’t want to do this.

He had a growing list of reasons to refuse.

Except.

Except there was a reason he accepted in the first place.

It was enough to fuel the fire inside him higher, until he was nearly bursting at the seams in his shuffling pace.

Finally, they were in an empty room. A quick glance around told him it was an empty washroom, and if not for Lan Fan’s very blatant disinterest in men, they may have been in trouble. As it was, she only slammed the door closed (a cathartic sound, though it did nothing for his thrumming body.) When she turned towards him, there was only concern. He hadn’t realized he’d expected anything less. But now, some tightness around his lungs loosened.

He’d been expecting a reprimand.

“What was the gift?” She started pulling his robes off of him.

Briefly, he wondered if this was unusual. The thought left his mind as soon as it crossed. He shifted his shoulders to help her remove the uppermost layer. “It was a shaving set.”

“Hm?” She moved to his front, untying a sash. “But you don’t have any facial hair.”

“It wasn’t for me to use myself.” Ling’s hands shook again. “Hua explained. It was for me to use, on him.”

Lan Fan’s fingers fumbled on the sash. “That doesn’t make sense, Sire.”

“It was meant as exactly what it was.” Ling stepped back and finished undoing the sash to his underrobe himself. “A notification of expectation. A signal that he wants me to be a doting husband.”

“I can see how in some twisted way that makes sense.” Lan Fan frowned. “Though he must be aware it doesn’t give a good impression.”

“He doesn’t think he has to care. He offered his hand in marriage without knowing me, Lan Fan. He wasn’t taking me into account at all. He wants Xing.”

“No.” She sat on an empty countertop. Her expression bothered him. “Not just Xing. He wants you, too. Sire.”

His skin felt raw. Only a few days ago, that may have been a relief. Now it was an irritation digging its way into his blood. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s been keeping tabs on you through the advisors. He has asked specifically after your health and happiness. The reports have been mixed, but he’s asked more than once.”

For a moment, Ling went cold. “Have any of them mentioned--”

“No. No mention of him. But the Amestrian does seem interested in you, specifically, Sire.” She frowned. “Though, I can say from your reaction to the gift that it’s a hopeless cause on his part.”

“What do I do?” He sat on the floor. At least a dozen tailors would be scandalized at his treatment of his clothing, but what did he care? Those same tailors complained every time he wore an outfit a second time.

“I cannot answer you, Ling. I’m sorry.” She smiled. “You should go to breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.” He was too angry to feel hungry.

“Ed will be there. Surely, he will calm you down.” Lan Fan smiled. “Besides, you should at least try.”

Ling closed his eyes. “I’m not putting the robes back on.”

“You’ll scandalize us all, Sire.” But she was still smiling when she said it. “Please, at least keep your head around the boy.”

Ling blushed. He left, tired and still irritated.

He ignored the stares of the others. Admittedly, his under robe and darkest, loosest pants were not the usual outfit for an emperor. It would take until tomorrow for the rumors to reach outside the kingdom. And when they did, he’d solidify them with his announcement of withdrawal from the marriage.

What had Ed called it?

A soft rebellion.

He sat, heavily, in his seat at the top of the table. Ed and Al sat near him, like they had the night before. Soon, this would become noticeable. Soon, he’d have to deal with all of the fallout from there. Right now though…

“I like your new look.” Ed tapped his fingers on his glass, taking a deep drink. He stared Ling down, questioning. “It’s certainly to stir up some talk around here. Especially with how you stormed out earlier.”

“Surprised you noticed over all your laughter.” Ling stretched in his seat. The dining hall was chilly as the flame of his anger started to wane. “Al, you wouldn’t believe how loud your asshole of a brother laughed at me in my own court.”

“I’m sure he didn’t laugh half as loud as he snored.” Al contemplated, rubbing their chin. “Though I guess he didn’t do much snoring in your room last night.”

Ed and Ling both squawked a protest but Al just snorted.

“I gotta say, though. Your kitchen knows how to make a roast quail that just melts.” Al took a bite, a nibble really, and savored it.

“Al’s a bit of a foodie. In fact, I don’t think they’ve ever enjoyed a place we’ve visited as much. They go on and on about the food here in the room. Do you know how much I had to hear about the sugared sweet potatoes? That was a half hour rant at least.”

“They were good! And one of the cooks said she’d share her recipe with me.” Al’s eyes narrowed, a slow and innocent smile spreading across their face. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t had to hear--”

“Ha! An-any way.” Ed waved his arm, the shine glinting with the bright lights of the room.

Ling caught the metal fingers in his, and Ed’s face lit up like a cherry sparkler. “Did you polish this?”

“Uh…” Ed’s mouth fell open as Ling openly observed the newly cleaned screws and gleaming plates. “Well, yeah. I mean, if I’m going to be modelling for an emperor, I figured it best be up to emperor’s standards.”

“Silly Edward.” Ling pulled the hand towards his face, checking the wear and tarnish. The scuff was still noticeable at the thumb, bits of unreachable fade peeking out from beneath overlapping metal. “I like your hands either way.”

Al coughed. “People are going to notice if you guys keep all that up.”

Ling dropped Ed’s hand and turned to his food. “So you say the quail is good?”

His appetite did return. He ate steadily through baked quail, quail egg dotted rice, taro starch candies, fried squash blossoms, sweet tomato filled dumplings. Occasionally Al would ask about a dish and he’d explain whatever he knew--not usually very much--and they’d write down a few notes to ask about later. And occasionally, he’d glance over to see Ed, a wide grin on his face, eyes alight, cheeks still tinged pink, and his heart would stutter.

This was the feeling he’d dreamed of as a kid. This excitement buzzing through him whenever he looked at Ed. The easy comradery between himself and the two brothers.

Ling leaned over, keeping his voice quiet and his body language inconspicuous. Al didn’t even look up.

“Let’s meet up where we met the first time, tonight.”

Ed nodded, and they continued through their meal until Ling had to excuse himself.

If Ed’s face turned a deeper shade of red, Al didn’t mention it.

As much as Ling was enjoying his scandalous outfit, he couldn’t justify doing any more official work in it. He changed into a simpler, less heavy version of the outfit he wore that morning. He hadn’t seen Lan Fan at breakfast. He assumed she had a good reason for wherever she was. Still. He wanted to tell her he’d made up his mind.

He toured through the city, overseeing repair projects and brokering deals between bickering businesses. The people weren’t quite sure what to do with him. And he was still learning exactly how to be what they expected of him. His advisors had tried to shepherd him into similes of past emperors. He chafed under their pressures as they tried to fill a shell they’d formed for him. The worst times were when they could cite legitimate reasons for their herding.

For example, he was exposed and in danger while out in the towns. So therefore, they must be able to have him well guarded. This very logical set of observations was followed with therefore every step he made had to be very meticulously timed and prescreened. Theoretically, he would spend only a small allotted time at each job, and no more.

One thing was always true, no matter how meticulously planned his outings. Each job multiplied. If he showed up to discuss the demarcation of a farming plot, the result would mean that already grown crops would have to be divided. Inevitably, a dispute would have to be settled. Then, as is only polite when you’ve just told at least one person they’ve less crops than they thought they did, he’d sit for a tea.

Today he didn’t get to lunch. Or back for another round of celebrations. And this was the way it always went, for any of his days he spent out with the people.

It was his favorite part of the job.

By the time he returned to the palace he was exhausted deep in his very bones. The robes, lighter he’d thought than the earlier ones, weighed him down. And still, he had dinner to go through. And the aftermath of this morning to handle. He wanted to sleep.

Then, he remembered.

He had a meeting. After dinner.

His steps still dragged, but a little less.

He made his way to his room and collapsed in his bed.

Only to jump up a moment later, shouting. “What the hell?”

A body wiggled under his covers. Fighting his way from a mountain of plush blankets, Ed’s head popped up. “Oh, you’re back. You were supposed to be back hours ago.”

A soft smile lit his face despite the heaviness of his limbs. “I can’t half ass a job with the people. They’d never forget and the bitching wouldn’t end for years. Probably until I died.”

“Even during your engagement?”

Ling scoffed. “Don’t play with me. You and I both know that’s a sham.”

“You sure?” Ed hugged the covers to his chest. Ling thought it was awfully cheeky that the Amestrian could sleep in his bed, wake up, and immediately start asking prying questions. Maybe he should have been bothered. Instead he was mildly impressed.

“Am I sure that the supposed suitor of mine who I’ve never met, who has no reason to have any interest in a decades younger new emperor in a country with an assassin problem, is nothing more than a sham of political leverage?” Ling slid his top off. He’d put it back on before dinner. But now, he needed to be lighter.

“Leverage? And what does that mean, for you?”

This conversation was a heavy one. Heavier than the exhaustion in his bones. Heavier than the robe he’d allowed to slide onto the floor. Heavier still than the thoughts that had been running through his head all day. “Do you know how I became Emperor?”

Ed frowned. “You fought your way through the other heirs, made alliances, made deals. That’s how every Xingese emperor ascends, right?”

“No. I’d have never been able to fight my way through 43 heirs.” Ling rubbed his eyes. “Promises. I made promises to those I didn’t need to fight my way through. Promises that their clan wouldn’t starve. Promises that I wouldn’t mercilessly kill those clans whose heirs I did have to fight through.”

“Sounds better.” Ed smiled. Ling didn’t.

“If I promised you, right now, that I would fix Amestris for you. That utilizing my marriage to your ruler, I would root out and destroy the corruption that causes Amestris to spread into neighboring countries like a virus. How would you feel?”

Ed’s face shifted, first to anger then to thoughtfulness, before finally landing on doubt. “How could you, even if you did marry him? Amestrians aren’t trusting. They’ve been in war after war--”

“Exactly. And yet, with the resources of Xing, the possibility arises that I could. And this is the possibility I’m faced with. Right now, I’m new, and my rule is based on promises that are thin until I fulfill them. And some of them will only be fulfilled when I die and haven’t killed off the opposing clans. When people aren’t used to honesty, believing in good things will become impossible.” Ling sat on the bed, pushed aside the covers. Ed was still dressed in this morning's clothes. As any normal person would be, Ling decided. “Having a strong military force behind my decrees would go a long way to making people take me seriously.”

“Sounds cowardly to me.” Ed crossed his arms. Ling was going to have to reign this conversation in, or he’d get no sleep before dinner.

“Yes, cowardly,” Ling wrapped his arms around Ed’s waist. “I’m certainly cowardly enough, but maybe not enough for this.”

Ed fought back his grin, but to no avail. “Well, I can’t believe I was lured all the way to the palace under false pretenses.”

“You mean you don’t want to become my mistress?” Ling placed a kiss against Ed’s throat. He wouldn’t usually be so forward, but he had found Ed in his bed.

“Don’t think I’ve got the legs.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to anyway.” And then Ling pulled Ed down, curled around the small statured boy, and fell asleep.

This way, exactly, was how Lan Fan found them. Ed, lying awake in Ling’s arms, and Ling, deep asleep.

“He seems relaxed.” Lan Fan shut the door quietly behind her. “This is good. I wanted to talk to you privately anyway.”

Ed sputtered. “He’s right here, it’s not like we’re alone.”

Lan Fan gave him a deadpan stare. Then she opened her mouth, talking loudly. “Ling! Oh, Ling, it’s an emergency, Ed is cutting off my leg with his automail arm. He’s going to kill me Ling, watch out!”

Ed gaped, waving his free hand in her direction. “Stop it stop it stop it! What are you doing?”

But Ling didn’t wake up. He only snuggled deeper into Ed’s chest, wrapped his arms tighter around Ed’s waist, and hummed contentedly.

“So, as I was saying.” Lan Fan on Ling’s desk, glancing through some of his pictures. “You came here before he got back. Before lunch. You must be hungry.”

“Starving, actually.”

“Careful, he’s got to be starving too.” She rested her chin on her hand, staring him down. “He’s been known to nibble in his sleep.”

“You two are close, yeah?”

“What are your intentions with the Emperor of Xing?” She uncrossed her leg, hopping down from the work desk. “How can I trust you?”

“We had an interesting conversation about trust earlier.” Ed looked up to the ceiling. “I don’t have any intentions, to be honest. I barely know him.”

Lan Fan was at the edge of the bed now. He could feel her cool touch on his leg, a threat more than a comfort. “That’s not a very comforting answer, considering what’s on the line.”

“You couldn’t very well trust me if I lied to you, could you?” Ed swallowed. “I like him. I have since I saw him half-passed out in the garden. He was so far gone he couldn’t stand, and he thought the flowers were stars.”

“It’s hard to understand why you went out after him.” Lan Fan’s grip on his leg tightened. “I had assumed he wanted to be alone. Why didn’t you?”

“I--” Ed hesitated. How much did he want to tell her? “I’ve had that look on my face before. The one he had when he went outside. I hadn’t wanted to be alone, then.”

“So you just took a chance? Followed a hunch?” She sat on the bed. Ling shifted beside him. “And then stayed out there with him, until we found you.”

“He doesn’t remember that part, I think.” Ed spread his fingers over Ling’s arm. “He asked me to lay with him. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

“You really don’t want anything from him, do you?”

“Just a chance.” Ed turned his face into Ling’s hair. “A chance to get to know him.”

“He wants you to.” Lan Fan sighed. “It’s time to get ready for dinner, now.”

“Right.” Ed ran his fingers through Ling’s hair, careful to keep the metal from tangling. “I should probably go. You probably wanted to talk to him, yeah?”

“I think it would be best.” Lan Fan didn’t move. “After all, it wouldn’t do for you two to arrive at dinner together, again.”

Ed moved carefully, lifting Ling’s arm and sliding out from beneath him. “He sleeps like a log.”

“Only after his visits to the people. It drains him but he loves it. He doesn’t do well sitting still.” She stood before Ed could reach the door, hand outstretched. “I think you’ll love him, before too long. I wish you good luck, Edward Elric. It is no easy task loving Ling Yao.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s worth it, every step.” Her hand hung in the air, waiting. “But he is emperor. And he doesn’t understand how important he is.”

“I make no promises.” He shook her hand and left, feeling somehow that he had made a vow, despite his claims.

Maybe he was already a lot deeper in than he thought.

They didn’t sit together at dinner this time. Ling was dressed in the robe he’d worn to town, only slightly rumpled, and smiling at everyone. A few people had attempted to ask him about his show over the gift this morning. He waved off their questions easily and changed the subject.

He’d even had one of the waiters sneak a baked taro bun over to Al, who had greedily devoured the whole thing. But he didn’t look at Ed.

Lan Fan stuck to his side, slyly moving him away from the less pleasant visitors. Ling pretended not to notice, but at one point he grew frustrated with a conversation, grabbed her around the waist, and did a circle around the room with her, ignoring any woh tried to talk to him. She laughed at him, and he ended up laughing with her. It was only a single round but it was enough to stir up the murmuring all over again.

The abrupt change had successfully signaled a change, however. The groups of people chattering needlessly started to break up into smaller groups, and music began playing. Ling watched as people stopped paying attention to him, concerning themselves with their own conversations.

He took a deep breath and sat down, rubbing his hands over his face. “God, that was becoming insufferable. I receive one shaving set and everyone has jokes and questions.”

“I think it’s more than that, Sire.” Lan Fan stretched. “Are you keeping your appointment?”

“A good emperor always does, right Lan Fan?” He grinned at her.

She squeezed his hand. “Just guard yourself, sire. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

He stuck his tongue out. “You’re always so serious. Never want to just have fun.”

“I have all sorts of fun when I’m with you, Sire.”

They both burst into giggles. He stood, brushing at the wrinkles on his top. “I’ve best get going. Ed disappeared quite a few minutes ago. He’ll be worried if I don’t show up soon.”

“Sire?” She tugged on his sleeve. “You do deserve to be happy. Don’t let any of us make you doubt that.”

A lump rose in his throat. “And is that your official opinion, Lan Fan?”

“That is always my opinion, Sire.”

He was still riding the high of knowing he’d be able to rely on Lan Fan, even if he made the selfish decision, even if he allowed his pride to rule just this once, when he made his way to the archway. Ed sat beneath, staring up at the tiny white flowers that dotted overhead.

“They do kind of look like stars, if you cross your eyes a bit.” Ed thumped back, stretching his arms above him.

“You’ll never reach them. They are the stars, after all.” Ling sat down and matched Ed’s pose.

“Do you remember asking to watch the stars with me?”

Ling shook his head. “No, I don’t. But I’d like to get the chance to try for real.”

“Well, that’s all up to you. I could always be your mistress.”

“You wouldn’t, you’re far too moral for that.” Ling hummed. “No, I’m going to call off the engagement. I can’t follow through with it.”

“Is this because of me? Don’t make a decision like that because of me. We just met, after all. What if we like different music or something?”

“Don’t worry. I’d probably have made this decision even if I hadn’t met you.” Probably. Maybe. Ling hoped he would have. “I’ve given up a lot to be Emperor. But I feel like this would be giving up more than I could actually bear.”

“I won’t argue with you.” Ed turned on his side. “I can’t say I wasn’t hoping.”

Ling opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a hand grabbing his arm. Lan Fan was here, and she’d obviously hurried.

“Lord, there’s been a development. We’ve just received word.”

Ling frowned, his brow pulling together. “What is it? Is everything ok?”

Lan Fan looked towards Ed, and then back to him. “Your fiance is heading here, to meet. He cites a misunderstanding as the cause, but I fear he may have learned of,” she made a vague gesture towards Ed. “Your extracurriculars.”

Ed’s face turned red again, a sight that would have usually sent Ling into cheery, warm feelings. But now his stomach felt it was digging its way into the dirt.

He would be meeting his suitor after all.

Ed grabbed his hand, already sitting up. "I shouldn't be here. People are bound to start showing up soon to congratulate you."

Ling didn't let go of Ed's hand as he moved to leave. "Well, you are. Don't even think about leaving me here."

Ed stopped, looking to Ling uncertain. "But--"

"Please."

And so Ed stayed, waiting for Ling as advisors came to tell him he only had two days before the King of Amestris arrived.

[geekys-corner]

Mind listing the OCs/personas and a couple facts about them? (Might help with questions lol)

Sure! I’ve written 16 below lmao *sticks in a read more*

Anthony - Originally my version of Anti, he’s now a sweet bean who really likes plants. In his backstory and the start of his story, he was found in a tiny pocket dimension inside his old apartment while he and the place around him fell into disrepair with the only thing truly alive being his plants. After losing his entire family, he was very fragile and hurt himself quite a bit, but my other characters rescued him and nursed him back to health and stability!

Onyx - My angsty punk dude who I adore. He is on the autistic spectrum and is mostly non-verbal, once going 4 months without speaking before breaking the silence to tell his best friend that Viggo Mortenson broke his toe in that one scene in Lord of the Rings. They have a twin sister who is 13 minutes older and a firm witch while he is a firm nonbeliever. Sometimes he goes to the junkyard with a baseball bat to let out their anger.

Leon - His backstory is very dark so I won’t get into it, but he’s a very shy bean with one arm and a love for sewing. He has the fluffiest light pink hair, and is just the embodiment of pastel.

Kyle - The older brother of the duo! He’s friends with Onyx and also has a punk look with spiked blue hair, but he’s an absolute sweetheart! He’s eight years older than his brother, and ran away with him when he was a newborn to escape their abusive mother. He raised Joey on his own in the streets, escaping care systems that would split them apart and shove them in to foster homes, and grew up to be completely independent, albeit unaware of what it is like to have a loving family besides his brother. He may be quick to resort to fight or flight to protect his brother and grumpy to strangers, but he’s built them a good life!

Joseph - The little brother! Joey is a smart little kid, (ranging from 10 - 14 depending) with very bright ginger hair and freckles. He’s on the far side of the autistic spectrum and is completely nonverbal, but he’s very expressive, spunky, and loving whenever he’s able to. He adores peanut butter and milkshakes, and would very happily have them six times a day. While he can’t speak, he will send Kyle countless facts from astronomy or marine life through text at any time of day or night. He’s always seen in his blue skateboarding frog hoodie, a beetle backpack filled with his supplies, and his headphones and tablet. He loves to draw and he’s great at it, and always draws sharks, especially whale sharks.

Caelan - Another punk, but this time in bird form. He is a griffin, and in some AUs a dude with prosthetic feet. He has messy blond hair covering his eyes and is based around an Egyptian falcon. He’s very quick witted and very annoying to people who don’t know him, but would go to hell and back for his family. 

Marioma - The model of a modern major general- this dude is the only one like him, meaning he has no AU counterparts! He’s different from my other characters since he’s technically self-aware, and acts in my stories if and when I want him to! He’s a grumpy, determined dude who’s trying to quit smoking per request of his boyfriend, Arthur. Before him, he was a sly, hardened, and cunning man who needed someone to rely on who wouldn’t die on him.

Arthur - Foster fails: 5. He owns a bookstore in the universe he inhabits and, just like Mari, he’s one of a kind! He lives the ideal rainy city aesthetic, with an apartment above his store with open windows, plants, cosy blankets and homemade food, handmade clothing, and animals. He’s got curly hair and his scarf is his comfort item, and he takes in animals if and when he can. He and Mari just live a comfortable life :’)

Clyde - A duo with Anthony, he was originally a version of Henrik, but is now completely different. This boy is a classic OC and therefore my teenage angst punching bag. He’s a doctor in his husband Lucas’ mafia, and is very strong-willed and the biggest sweetheart. He has water powers that I always forget about, and could very easily drown someone if he wanted to. Besides that, he does cry a lot over small things, and Lucas has walked in on him crying over their cat in a business-tie.

Levi - If he and Clyde fused, they’d make Henrik. He’s my 55 year old doctor who just the embodiment of grumpy cat and expresso. He’s very lanky and has joint problems after trauma in his late 20s, and sometimes you can hear his bones cracking as he walks. He has, can, and will slap the sense into Clyde when he needs to and hated him to begin with, but warmed up to him. But, he’s completely different to his husband Sage, and in the end, is a very caring guy who won’t take any shit. He’s also therapist, and gives sessions to most of my OCs- (he’s also the doctor at the end of Don’t Leave! Dr Allison!)

Tyrell (Cloak) - So I split the same OC into two halves, essentially from two AUs but in one? They’re not twins, they’re the same guy with separate families but they’re the same. They’re both POC with the same face, hair texture etc. Cloak-Ty is very grumpy, and is called Cloak because of the cloak he wears in his fantasy-based AUs! He wears an eye patch and lost his eye depending on the AU, and went through a lot. You can tell he’s angsty because half of his hair is buzzed off. He tried to push away his now-husband Demitri, but luckily he’s an absolute himbo who doesn’t know when to quit, and eventually melted through the icy layer to a loving, sarcastic, hard-working man.

Tyrell (Ponytail) - Same as above description wise! He’s taller and buff with a ponytail. He went through the same backstory, but was found by Daniel who took him to Lucas’ mafia where they recovered together and eventually fell in love. Half of his face is badly burned and the eye has pin-hole vision, but it doesn’t stop him from being the best sniper on the team. When at home, he loves tea, hanging with his family, and painting. He’s amazing at watercolour and earns money on the side from selling his work! Sometimes he and Dan team up and draw together!

Bloodbranded:

Wayde - He lives in the Winter Forest Region and hunts for his family with his exceptional archery skills. He’s witty and pretty spontaneous, making him good under pressure, but incredibly reckless. He has a bad claw scar across his right eye which cuts into his hair, but he can see just fine! He has beautiful green eyes with central heterochromia, so they turn brown in the centre. While he may be annoying and hot-headed, he cares a whole bunch and grows as a person to fall in love with Milo. He’s a hopeless romantic and protective as all hell, even when Milo can handle himself just fine.

Felicity - She wasn’t born in the WFR like Wayde, she was adopted by her two mothers and is Wayde’s cousin! She’s a POC with beautiful dark skin, and her parents style her hair in unique braids that are decorated by gold rings. She’s a magic user and a very skilled one at that, even when she’d just started out, and wishes to revive the old form of magic that had been taken over by the modern, corrupted magic form that’s based entirely on nepotism. She uses a staff and a book, and is clumsy to start out, but soon becomes a mage to be admired, or feared if you’re an enemy!

Milo - Unlike Felicity and Wayde, he was born in the desert region, and ends up in the WFR by mistake (which is a vast change in temperature for him). Because of the contrast in temperature, he’s always wrapped up in winter clothes, even in places where the others are sleeveless, just because he’s spent his whole life in the heat! When he’s at home, he lives with his Mother and goes out to collect lightning glass after the nightly storms to sell and turn into jewellery or windows etc. Milo was born deaf and uses sign language to communicate. He’s smart, energetic, and excited to see new things, but can handle himself with ease, and knows how to take care of himself through quick thinking and fighting skills from living in the desert. When he and Wayde start dating, he likes coming up behind him and cuddling him or giving him quick kisses!

Prism - Much like their name, they are very colourful. They are a dragon hybrid and live in a kingdom of others like them, but unlike any other dragon, their scales are - like their name - prisms. They gradient between rainbows across their body, but each scale has a rainbow shimmer when they move. Their wings are like stained glass, and their hair (as of now, it might change) is like labradorite! Prism is mute and doesn’t express much, usually communicating through eye rolls. They live as the King’s new heir after he took them in as he believes Prism is the symbol of their kingdom and species’ beauty. Because of this, they are completely untouched by any blade and don’t have a single blemish or scar as to preserve them. Many guards have died to prevent them from obtaining even the slightest scratch. Beyond their anxiety, they join the crew and act as the voice/sign of reason! Even if they are assigned to their kingdom, they soon learn that their friends truly care about them more than their appearance.

That’s most of my OCs, this is already super long so I don’t want to drag it on! If anyone is interested in any OC, feel free to drop an ask, I’d love to write one shots or answer questions! <3 ^^

[remys-lucky-franc]

I’m Bringing Sexy Back (To Regency England) - Immortal Heart Society

So this happened because I referred to new series IHS’s baddie Lord Montague as ‘Lord Timberlake’ due to the coiffuring similarities and it made @aquagirl1978 LOL and she made me this:

See how alike they look though?! I’m not crazy.

Literally no one in the world wants this fic, and it’s just stupid, but I had a giggle writing it, so 😆 Also, I genuinely know nothing about JT, if any of you are superfans and I’m way off, it’s just a bit of fun, no ill intent or offence meant 💕

Also it’s just in time for all the good old memes... (At the end if anyone needs a ref point)

Word Count ~3500 (yeah, I’ve gone off)

[MORE] [[MORE]]

In the grandiose but soulless marble bathroom of the Boston penthouse, Justin squeezed his eyes tight-shut, splashing his face with frigid water. He inhaled sharply as the moisture hit his skin, opening his eyes and staring intently at the reflection mirrored back at him. It had been quite a night so far. He’d been courted by ‘The Society’ for a couple of months now and on receiving their latest invite, he had finally acquiesced. Over the course of the evening he’d exchanged pleasantries and mingled with a fusion of intriguing individuals - all very different, very separate people, but all who clearly had gotten the memo: convince him to join. Justin suspected before he arrived, from the exclusive address on the invite alone, the sort of members The Society would have on its roster and he wasn’t surprised - even if most of them were no more than masked silhouettes. Initially when he had exited the elevator and caught sight of all those shaded faces, Justin’s heart stuttered: had he inadvertently accepted an invite to some sort of sexy party? How would he explain this one? ‘Hey Honey - funny story...’ But it didn’t take long to deduce that the disguises were all part of the prestige and served as identity protection rather than a conduit to anyone having any real sort of fun.

The mixer itself had been entertaining enough, but the hushed secrets shared in the drawing room were what had piqued his interested and saw him hiding in the restroom searching his own soul for answers. He’d been trading anecdotes with a handful of members before he was interrupter by a well dressed blonde and ushered through a side door, where he was greeted with a firm handshake by one of the top men within the society (apparently), Richard - Something. Initially Justin had smiled but internally rolled his eyes as he considered how these shady types only ever give out their first names - and how that felt particularly unfair when everyone here knew fine well what his surname was... Richard was perfectly charming and charismatic - in the same faux-caring, calculating way politicians are as they try to snare floating voters. His smile was bright and his words were warm, but his eyes were a stark contrast. The Society’s hoi-polloi were obviously deemed to have played their part in warming him up and now Richard was here to give him the hard-sell: and sell he did.

And at first, it sounded relatively normal. At first. Until Richard started with tall tales of how society members held all of the power in the world through power stones. Initially Justin got to his feet and scoffed - weren’t crystals just for spa days and hippies? This had to be a set up. He scanned the room looking for any clue of a hidden camera, Ashton Kutcher’s sneakers showing from behind a curtain perhaps - but nothing. It all sounded truly ridiculous, but as Richard stood, laying a firm hand on Justin’s shoulder, directing him towards a plush chair, pouring him two fingers of whisky, something held him; fascinated him. Stopped him from barging straight out of the room. Justin observed in silence as Richard thumbed through various documents, showing him photographs, pulling up search data online... Explaining. Convincing. Persuading. Justin didn’t trust the suave smarmy suit as far as he could throw him, but the more Richard divulged of the spiderweb of societal involvement in major global events and current affairs, the more sense it made... And in spite of himself, Justin started to succumb to this strange reality. Every word out of Clever Dick’s mouth was revelational, peeling away one layer after another, after another, until Justin’s mind was blown; his brain hurt the same way it did the first time he watched Inception. He couldn’t bend his mind around why Richard was telling him all this, or why a collective more powerful than The Walt Disney Company would want a musician to join their ranks? Richard shrugged coolly as he continued to play for Justin’s buy in, simply smiling and saying that, as a big pop star, it would be quid pro quo - a very mutually beneficial arrangement. The society had access to the best labels, the best A&R departments, they could get Justin as much airplay, fame and publicity as he wanted.

Justin couldn’t deny it sounded appealing - but what did they want in return? So far it was all ‘quid’ and no ‘quo’. He had to ask. Even the easy, practiced grin on Richard’s face couldn’t offset the glint of ice in his dark eyes and menace in his voice that chilled Justin’s blood.

“Justin, come! Everyone knows that music is what shapes the youth of today! The influence wielded by artists, the loyalty inspired by them, their marketability, it’s simply insurmountable! Think about it, dear boy? If The Society control the music, they control the populace.”

Justin cleared his throat as he sized himself up, readjusting his skinny black tie and squaring his shoulders. Richard must be insane. The Society’s logic was fatally flawed: they couldn’t seriously think that it was possible control the entire world’s population through having a singer in their ranks? It was infeasible. Impossible. But what they were offering him in exchange? Now, that was a very attractive proposition indeed. If he agreed to join, and got all of that out of it, it would be worth it? The Society would surely realise at some point that they couldn’t rule the world through the power of song? Yes, the power of a one-line harmony had already been proven by McDonald’s to sell a shit-tonne of burgers - and while it was a pretty convincing argument, selling fast-food to hungry people was one thing - but full-scale global domination?? That was something else entirely. But if he could ride along on their coat-tails and reap all the benefits until they realised just how crazy that idea had been in the first place...

—- two years later —-

Cash carded his hand through his dark hair, exasperated as he listened to Alana’s latest report, “You all understand that Timberlake is completely out of control, yes?”

Emilio grunted flatly as his head fell into his crossed arms on the table like a five year old ready to play heads-down-thumbs-up, “Yeeeeees.”

Cash bristled further as he looked to Rafe and Kiran for their input, both simply nodding back at him as though to say, ‘yes, we know.’

Alana looked down at her phone, worrying her full bottom lip between her teeth, “It’s worse than you think though, Cash.”

He was instantly on his feet staring at her, Rafe and Kiran leaned forward and Emilio raised one weary brow from his slumped pose, concern evident on all their faces.

Kiran was first to speak, “Alana how can it be worse? Richard’s vanished off the face of the earth. Justin’s last billboard count had him go multi-platinum - again, and his lyrics are becoming...”

Rafe offered flatly, “Odd.” He stood, cracked his neck from side to side and headed towards the small stove, absentmindedly filling a saucepan with water and a packet of instant noodles.

Cash shook his head at Rafe then turned back to glower at the rest of the Inner Circle, “Thank you all for the recap. It’s bleak, we know. Alana?”

Green eyes fixed the room as Alana cleared her throat and mouthed, “One hundred and ninety-four.”

Dumbfounded silence filled the room; jaws hung slack. Until Kiran broke the spell, a spluttering cough turning into an uncomfortable laugh, “One hundred and ninety-four what? Because I know you definitely can’t mean stones. We know the exactly location of over fifty percent of them? They’re safe?”

Rafe, back at the table with his ramen by now, paled as Alana shook her head at a loss for words, red curls bouncing around her shoulders, “How is that possible?”

Alana threw her hands in the air, confessing “I honestly don’t know. But he has ones that we knew the location of, and more besides.”

Cash paced the room, clearly agitated as he cursed and barked,

“That’s every stone in existence, except ours and one other.”

Alana puffed out her cheeks before huffing out the breath sharply, “Correct. He has the lot, excepts ours - and the Garnet.”

Emilio’s hand slid under his shirt, a double-check to be sure his Alexandrite remained firmly on the chain hidden beneath the dark fabric, fiddling with it like a child with a comfort blanket as he spoke, “I- I just don’t understand. How? How did he get so many without us knowing?”

Rafe shrugged as he shovelled a spoonful of noodles into his mouth and chewed thoroughly before answering, “Richard’s protege. His pet project. Nothing surprises me when he’s involved. Everything he touches gets tarnished.”

Alana sighed sadly, “Justin seemed like such a sweet guy when he first joined. I really liked him. I thought he could have been part of our Inner Circle someday.”

Rafe shot her a rueful smile before looking down into the noodles, “Same. He changed. Fast.” Coiling his fork in a thick helping, he swung them into his mouth without ceremony.

Cash pinched the bridge of his nose, stopping pacing for long enough to stare and snap at Rafe,

“What is it with you and those blasted ramen noodles??”

Rafe shook his head silently as though to say, ‘I don’t know’: he wasn’t entirely sure why, but every time someone mentioned Timberlake, he couldn’t stop himself from carb-loading. All he wanted a big bowl of ramen in his belly and he couldn’t think about anything else until he was full of noodley-goodness. He’d eaten more instant ramen in the past couple of years than he did during college, and that was saying something.

Kiran cut through the atmosphere between the two men, venturing, “So how are we going to shut him down?”

—-

Richard had been missing for months, and although all trails had gone cold and no one was one hundred percent clear on what had happened to him, there was very strong suspicion within the group of five that Justin had something to do with it. How else had he managed to acquire almost every power stone in existence? He must have dispensed of Richard and taken them for himself - there really didn’t seem, to be any other explanation. The Inner Circle had been aware that Richard was hoarding stones, but his haul had escalated significantly and quickly with Justin by his side - at the Circle’s last count maybe six to eight months ago, Richard only had sixty-five stones in his custody. The dirty duo had been busy.

Emilio shuddered solemnly as he thought about what must have happened to the rightful owners of those stones. He was at the tower with the Inner Circle, minus Cash. Cash would arrive soon, bringing Justin to the table with him. Creating a rouse of support, and then double-crossing him to recover the power stones had been deemed the only feasible plan. Emilio watched the rest of the group: Rafe stirring at a saucepan at the small kitchen set up, Kiran flipping aimlessly though a fashion magazine and Alana tapping at her cellphone. They were all feeling nervous about this, the stakes had never been so high. He scrubbed his brow as he ran through the various scenarios of what could possibly happen with Cash and Justin arrived.

He didn’t have long to wait as the door opened and laughter reverberated around the room. Cash was manoeuvring Timberlake expertly, and Justin seemed to be lapping up everything he said. A round of smiles and handshakes later everyone sat around the table, eyes expectantly on Cash.

“Justin, firstly, thank you for joining the group here today. As you know, with Richard... Let’s say, elsewhere. I’ve been standing in as the ‘interim leader’. And I’ll be frank, Justin, I always thought it would be for me, but it’s not. And it takes a lot for me to admit that. I can do the decision-making, the negotiations, but what I cannot abide is dealing with attitudes and egos all day long.”

Rafe chortled, “He thinks he should be the only one allowed an attitude and an ego!”

Justin grinned and visibly relaxed within the larger group.

Clearing his throat irately, Cash gestured towards Rafe, “Exactly what I’m talking about. Justin, my calling doesn’t lie in leading The Society. I am more interested in having a less ’public facing position’ shall we say, where I can really put my true talents to use. And that’s why I invited you to sit with us today, Justin.’

Timberlake nodded enthusiastically, “ I see.”

Cash stood, wearing a trail in the carpet as he walked back and forth,

“What are your goals, Justin? We understand you must be distraught about Richard’s disappearance, you two seemed close. Do you have aspirations for The Society’s Leadership? We’ve been observing you for some time, and feel that we could all benefit each other within this little group, everyone here wants to progress and wants ‘more’. And we feel like you may have some ideas that could help us all to achieve just that.”

Justin leaned back in his chair observing the group sat around the table. Of course he knew what his goals were. He’d never really considered leadership of The Society until recently - his mind had been consumed with his plan for ultimate pop domination over the past two years. And he’d progressed so far that it was within his grasp - and that was when he and Richard had begun to clash. Badly. Richard’s vision was so- So limited. He couldn’t see Justin’s potential past being a Society tool used to control the public. Justin knew his worth, he was more than a tool for Richard to implement as he saw fit. He felt the anger bubble inside him as he recalled the final fight with Richard. They could have controlled the entire world together: why couldn’t Richard have seen that? Why couldn’t he have got on board with Justin’s plans? As he sized up the twelve eyes watching him, he thought about the dozens of power stones locked securely in the safe in his apartment: these people could see his strength. His power. His star ascending. He leaned forward, his decision made,

“I have acquired many power stones and my plan is, to use our time-travelling abilities to go back in time and wipe other pop stars from existence, so that I am the single biggest pop star in the world today. Then with my influence, The Society will control everything. We, friends, will control the world.”

Alana and Kiran eyeballed each other as the men nodded at Justin.

Kiran interjected,

“There’s no doubt that The Society would benefit from that sort of influence, but what about all of the damage that would be done to culture and humanity without artists?”

Justin looked confused as he stared at her, “But they’d still have me?”

Kiran chewed the statement over before asking, “And who are you going after? Are we talking about Elvis? The Beatles? Frank Sinatra?”

Justin waved a hand as though he’d practiced this very conversation in the mirror a hundred times, “No, no. Only today’s artists. I can’t disrupt anyone who directly or indirectly influenced my career. Butterfly Effect and all.”

The Inner Circle nodded sagely as Justin continued, “And when my plan is complete, who, I ask you, will be the biggest pop star in the world??”

Alana glanced up grimacing, “I don’t know Justin, I mean Lady Gaga is pretty huge? Iconic, even.”

Emilio shook his head, “Right now, Ariana Grande’s the biggest artist in the world, I read it somewhere.”

Justin fixed them both with an affronted stare, “But think about it, if none of them ever existed... Then who would be the biggest pop star in the world?”

Alana and Emilio exchanged a world-weary glance as Justin cackled, “Guess what? It’s gonna be me.”

Rafe scrunched his nose, confused, speaking through a mouthful of ramen, “May? What? Are the Emmy’s not always in September?”

Cash shotshim a withering glance before grinning at Justin, “You’ve thought a lot about his haven’t you?”

Justin, visibly flattered, shrugged off Cash’s praise, “Just a little.”

Cash leaned towards Justin conspiratorially, “So tell us, what more do you need to make your dreams a reality, and how could we, as a group, facilitate that?”

—-

Over the next few weeks the Inner Circle had planned for two consecutive missions. One intricate scheme with Justin, that involved him travelling back over two hundred years to Regency England to secure the Garnet power stone from a Lady Foxworthy. And their own private secondary mission that involved luring Justin back to Regency England where there was no power stone to be found.

When the day to venture back in time arrived, Justin paraded around the tower preening in the mirror at his era-appropriate garb. Kiran had stitched it to perfection, a beautifully embroidered waistcoat over his cravat, fitted cream pants and a midnight blue, velvet long-tailed coat that really made his eyes pop. Rafe let out a low whistle, winking at Justin’s reflection in the mirror, “Looking sharp! Nice work Kiran.” This look was a definitely a step up from double denim!

Kiran moved around Justin turning him, dusting down his shoulders, “Oh hold up, you have a thread. Let me just get that for you. Can’t have you looking less than perfect!” She reached for her scissors and touched the back of his jacket whilst swiftly clipping a tuft of hair from the back of his head.

The corners of Cash’s mouth quirked upwards at her almost imperceptibly as he spoke, “Very elegant, good Sir. You look quite the part.”

Justin gave Cash a delighted twirl to show off his new threads before performing a low, sweeping bow - completely unaware of his missing locks - speaking in a haughty-sounding English accent, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Tarkhan, I am Lord Timberlake.”

Alana had to swig at a cup of water to stop herself from bursting into peals of laughter, it was like the only English person he’d ever heard speak before was Queen Elizabeth herself! Cash raised an eyebrow in her direction before addressing Justin, “You’re definitely comfortable travelling back alone, because it would only take Alana here a few minutes to change into something suitable and accompany you?”

Justin waved a hand dismissing the suggestion, quite honestly he didn’t want anyone cramping his style. It wasn’t Justin’s first time in Regency England - when he and Richard had travelled there previously he’d had a ball. He had exactly eight hours to get there, get the Garnet, have some fun in a previous era and get back - and then. Then a whole new era would begin. His era... Leader of the most powerful Society in the world and the biggest pop star in history. Justin grinned as he stepped forward, placing his hands around the ornate pocket watch and beginning the arcane chant to begin his voyage through time. The rest of the Inner Circle joined the chant, turning back the clocks within the tower as Justin’s world started to blur at the edges, drifting backwards through two hundred years of history.

After Justin was gone, a series of stealthy grins were exchanged around the group. Emilio breathed a sigh of relief, “We did it.”

Kiran tossed the little velvet bag with Justin’s hair inside to Cash - their insurance policy, should he need to be dealt with ‘more permanently’ at a later date. Today’s plan didn’t involve the singer being turned into a surprised-looking statue, just giving him an extended stay in Regency England instead... The garnet wasn’t there - in fact, there were no stones left there. It was common knowledge within the Inner Circle where the garnet was: firmly on the finger of Richard’s blissfully unaware and estranged daughter - passed down by his long-missing wife. A point that Timberlake was sadly remiss of: they all had banked on Richard never disclosing a topic so sore as his failure as a father out of pure pride and vanity - and they’d been correct...

Now there was nothing more to do than wind all the clocks back to the correct time, then sit and wait until Justin would try to get back.

—-

Seven and three-quarter hours later, the group within the tower saw a blurry portal loom in the corner of the room. Suddenly alert, they listened intently as Justin’s voice crackled through,

“Rafe, Cash, guys! Are you there? Help me! I can’t... I can’t get back! Alana?? The ritual, it’s not working, I’m not fading back through??”

Cash drawled as he examined his fingernails, looking thoroughly bored,

“Ah, so our little ritual worked then. Good to know.”

The passage through time became narrower and narrow as a sickening realisation suckerpunched Justin, panic rising like bile in his throat, “You... You did this on purpose!! You screwed me over!! You bastards!!!!”

As the portal flickered and shrunk to no more than a pinhole, echoes of the roars of their names reverberated around the room, until the gap sealed itself trapping Lord Timberlake in Regency England for ever more. Silence settled over the tower for a few moments, until Rafe glanced up at the rest of the group thorough his sweeping fringe, a smirk slowly stretching from ear to ear as he shrugs,

“Cry me a river...”

[megashadowdragon]

coldhands identity is brave danny flint

Could Coldhands be Brave Danny Flint? It sounds crackpot, and very likely is, but the more I thought about it the more it appealed to me. I've done a quick search, one or two people seem to have floated this before but it's never had much in-depth analysis. This is my first meta, so please be gentle and C&C welcome.

The Gender Agenda To start with, I'll start with the elephant in the room - Danny Flint was a girl, Coldhands is male. Or is he? Gilly, Meera, and Bran all refer to him as male, but they have no idea who he is, so would see Night's Watch clothes and assume. He wears a scarf over his face, and while they can see his eyes and that his face is pale, it took Bran's gang a decent amount of time to work out he was a walking corpse, so I'm not sure I trust them to figure out niceties like gender. Leaf's "They killed him long ago" is more of a problem - she's a colleague, she would probably know. My best defence is that maybe Children of the Forest don't do gender in the same way as humans? This feels like a reach, but we have had another magical species with sexual fluidity leading to trouble with pronouns in the series. Otherwise, Leaf tends to hang out in the cave, Coldhands can't get in, maybe they're just not that close. Finally, the main person to ask - Coldhands his or her self. The only other post I could see on reddit about this theory had someone respond with the quote "Once the heart has ceased to beat, a man's blood runs down into his extremities, where it thickens and congeals. His hands and feet swell up and turn as black as pudding. The rest of him becomes as white as milk", but I'd point out this is in third person and a generalization - "a man", not "me, Coldhands, the man".

Okay, now I've convinced everyone my theory is terrible, let's get into the meat of it.

Hands cold as stone This was what got me into this rabbit hole in the first place - House Flint's sigil is "A grey stone hand upon a white inverted pall on paly black and grey". A stone hand would be pretty cold, right? In point of fact, when we first met Coldhands, the final line of the chapter describes "fingers hard as stone." On top of that, the white and black background seems to fit the Night's Watch blacks, pale face, black hands, white snow, etc.

Who the hell else could it be? This has always been the weird thing about Coldhands for me. Honestly, there's a very good chance this is a non mystery mystery, he's a zombie Night's watch ranger riding an elk, do we really need a secret identity? However, "who is Coldhands?" is one of the most commonly asked questions in the fandom, so let's assume it's getting an answer. We know: a) night's watch member b) killed a long time ago, as reckoned by a 200 year old, c) not Benjen. There are essentially 3 historical periods where we know any specifics about the Night's Watch: 1) the long night/age of heroes, 2) Targaryen era, 3) recent history. If we work through these backwards, we can pretty much rule out the recent era for not meeting the criteria of "killed a long time ago". The Targaryen era didn't have much Night's Watch drama, a few kings sent to the wall at Aegon's conquest, Raymun Redbeard's invasion is wall related but the whole point of that story is that the Night's Watch failed to really get involved... the only strong contender from this period is a mysterious magical Targaryen bastard who went to the wall and went missing... but he's the other mysterious good zombie wandering around up north. The long night has a lot of Night's Watch focus, but it was 10,000 years ago. Allowing for this being in-universe exaggeration, it's still ~2,000 years ago, and if Coldhands were that old, I'm not sure he'd be in elk-riding mutineer-killing form, or at least not look passably human to Bran and co. This rules out specific timeline characters, which leaves more folkloric characters like Danny Flint, who isn't associated to any one point in time. There's a song, and she's treated as a well-known tale, which implies a fairly long time, but overall could be whenever. This works for any of the folkloric Night's Watch characters, but the Rat King is already otherwise occupied with a different cannibalistic pseudo immortality, leaving Mad Axe, who does have the massacring fellow brothers down pat, but doesn't feel thematically right to me. This section really grew in the writing, but TL;DR - assuming Coldhands is someone we've heard of before, no specific historical figures seem to match up chronologically, leaving figures from folk tales and songs, which there are only so many of.

Mutineer Massacre For a character we've all obsessed over so much, it's easy to forget how little we've seen of Coldhands. His role in the story has effectively been "transport Sam and Gilly to the wall, transport Bran and co to Bloodraven, massacre the Night's Watch mutineers". Hold up, one of those things is not like the others. During his quest to get Bran to Bloodraven, to awake the messiah and save the world, Coldhands takes a break and makes a detour to kill the Night's Watch Mutineers from Crasters. This is explicitly noted to be something they slow down for, when time is critical. Admittedly, it secures the party some delicious Long Pork when supplies are low, but even in aDwD it seems like there are other ways to get meat than to hunt humans, besides which he kills not one but five mutineers. He claims it is because the mutineers are following them, but Meera points out they've been circling for days - it seems Coldhands deliberately sought the mutineers out. The brutality of the kills also suggests more than utilitarian pragmatism - there are entrails slung through branches and severed heads! All of this to say, Coldhands is deliberately shown as both a member of the Night's Watch, and willing/going out of his way to punish Night's Watch brothers who break their vows and harm their fellow brothers, something Danny Flint might take personally. Basically, it's a classic exploitation movie with an elk-riding zombie as the wronged woman hunting down wrongdoers. Someone call Tarantino to direct this.

A True Night's Watch One of the big themes GRRM loves is the idea that outsiders to an institution can be the truest embodiment of that institution - Dunk and Brienne are the truest Knights, Davos is the truest lord, the Manderlys are the most loyal northerners. Coldhands already seems to tie into this - the Night's Watch are tireless defenders from the Others and their Wights, so ironically the staunchest ranger is undead as well. It would only emphasise this theme if this ultimate Night's Watch ranger was someone who was barred from entry, had to sneak in, and was murdered by their brothers for not belonging. There also seems to be a thematic tie in that Danny Flint had to essentially infiltrate the Night's Watch and keep her cover in hostile terrain, much like Coldhands in the Others controlled north.

Bonding over being murdered by your brothers Coldhands has so far been very much one of Bran's cast, but it's worth noting characters can switch storylines, and we have someone else in the North who can soon relate to being a back-from-the-dead Night's Watchman fighting the Others - I'm hardly the first to note the Coldhands/Jon parallels, but Coldhands being another character who was murdered by the Night's Watch due to their conservatism and hatred of outsiders would add another layer.

Miscellany A couple of quotes I found while researching for this: “Did Mance ever sing of Brave Danny Flint?” “Not as I recall. Who was he?” (ADWD Jon XII) - Tormund and Jon talking, Tormund mistaking Danny Flint for a man, this feels like one of those throw-away lines GRRM likes to include to make a little double meaning once the truth is out, or just seeding the idea of mistaking Danny Flint for a man. “The ranger wore the black of the Night’s Watch, but what if he was not a man at all?" (ADWD Bran I) - again, I could see GRRM giggling as he typed that if this theory were true.

Conclusion Honestly, there is every chance this is absolute nonsense, and I've just lost it waiting for TWoW. I tend to lean towards Coldhands not having a big identity reveal, he's an undead ranger co-opted by Bloodraven and that's enough. However, if Coldhands is to have an identity reveal, I think Danny Flint deserves consideration: there aren't that many viable candidates, her story is emotionally intense enough and has been referred to often enough that a casual fan could be expected to go "oh!" instead of "...let me google that", and it would fit with existing themes of the story. The angle of Jon parallels even gives an opening for the reveal to be natural and facilitate character and thematic arcs, which is what I look for in a theory.

comment on reddit

Yeah, the Flint (of Flint's Finger) sigil literally being a Cold Hand is what sold me on this when I started looking into it. There's also some other intriguing textual stuff about it...

The weird thing about Danny Flint is that she is only mentioned three times in all of ASOIAF. Three! Bran recounts her tale in Bran IV, ASOS; Theon hears Wyman Manderly demand her song in The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD; and Jon discusses her tale with Tormund in Jon XII, ADWD.

This was kind of shocking to me. Danny Flint is a pretty recognizable name to, I’d figure, the majority of attentive readers. I thought she must have been mentioned before the third book, at least, but… nope. Her tale is first introduced to us in Bran IV, ASOS, the Nightfort chapter… Oh, what’s that? Wait, isn’t that… the very same Nightfort chapter where we first hear about Coldhands? (Well, no, actually, he appears at the end of Samwell III before that, but this is the first chapter where he is identified as Coldhands.) Chronologically, Sam meets Coldhands, Bran thinks about Danny Flint, and then Sam introduces Bran to Coldhands, in fairly quick succession.

So it seems GRRM came up with Danny Flint and Coldhands around the exact same time. Interesting. Danny Flint is then not mentioned again until ADWD, when the Coldhands mystery is developed further. Double interesting.

Also, the Bran chapter directly preceding the Nightfort chapter– our first introduction to Danny Flint– is the one where Meera tells him the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, another tale of a northern warrior woman dressing as a man and hiding her face in service of some greater goal. Stretch? Maybe.

And why would Coldhands' face be covered at all if there WASN'T some big reveal upcoming? What utility would that have? That scarf clearly seems like a setup for SOMETHING. He doesn't need it for warmth. He's likely hiding a face that would make him recognizable to Bran/Meera/Jojen (and the readers), but died long ago... the only way that reveal could work without a ton of laborious exposition is if he took off the scarf and it was obviously a 'female' face, making it obviously Danny. It also seems likely Coldhands will interact with at least Bran and Meera again, both of whom are somewhat connected to Danny Flint’s story– Bran via his love of stories and legends, and Meera via the breaking of gender roles. So there's thematic levels to it as well.

source www . reddit . com/r/asoiaf/comments/llwm8m/coldhands_identity_spoilers_extended/

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Let Them Eat Cake part ii (Wolfstar bake off au)

This week on The Great British Bake Off

“Oh Lord I’ve just gone and dropped my dough. Repeat, I’ve just dropped my dough”

“I forgot to turn my oven on.”

“I’m going home for sure.”

Remus woke up to his phone ringing.

“Remus!” His mom half-yelled down the line, “You came third in the technical!”

Remus rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Mam, I already told you that, I rang you right after it happened.”

“I know, I know,” Hope said, “But the first episode only came out last night so I’m all excited about it again. Christ Re it’s so strange seeing you on the telly.”

Remus let out an amused huff and flopped back down onto the plush hotel pillows. “Thanks?”

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart… What have you got on today?”

“We’re filming again today, so the first two challenges.”

“Oh, what’s the theme this week?” Hope needled and Remus rolled his eyes fondly. “Man, you know I can’t tell you that yet.”

“I’m your mother. I think if you told anyone, it should be me.”

“Well if I were telling anyone, I would tell you, however…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re not telling anyone.” She said a little disappointed. “It was worth a shot.” She let out a melancholic sigh, “My only child, too big a star now, doesn’t even have time to talk to his own mother.”

“I’m currently talking to my own mother so I think that contradicts your point a little.” Remus chimed in. “Also, I hardly think being on one episode of Bake Off counts as a star.”

“Well it’s all anyone here at home has been talking about for at least a month.”

“Wow, they really need to get a life.” He said dryly and chuckled when his mother began to admonish him. “Oh mam, I’ve got to go, I’m almost late for filming, I’ll call you later.”

“That sounds like a cop out if I’ve ever heard one Remus Lupin, but I’ll let you go anyways. Good luck today, I love you.”

“Love you too mam. Talk soon, bye bye.” He pressed the end call button and lay with his phone on his chest for a moment before actually checking the time. He had about an hour before he was expected on set. He rolled out of bed with a groan and headed into the shower.

Remus quite literally ran into Sirius.

“Oh shit sorry!” He cried as they collided. Sirius caught Remus’ wrist to steady himself and held on for a split second before letting go.

“In a hurry Lupin?” 

Remus flushed a little, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah I was supposed to meet Lily at the door five minutes ago but I got caught up.”

Sirius just maintained eye contact for a moment before reaching out and touching the sleeve of Remus’ cream knit sweater. “This is nice.”

Remus lost his words. “Oh um, thank you. I made it actually.”

Sirius quirked a smile. “A baker and a knitter? You’re a real home-boy.”

Remus laughed a little. “Yeah you could definitely say that. I knit when I’m watching TV or whatever, I hate when I don’t have something to do with my hands. ‘Idle hands’ and all that.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Remus said, shrugging him off despite the fact that he was possibly about to lose his mind. The Sirius Black was teasing him.

“Anyways, I should probably go.” He said, ducking his head. “Lily’s waiting for me.”

“And we’ve got a show to get to.” Sirius added.

“Yeah,” Remus smiled. “Yeah we do.”

“Hello and welcome back everyone, to this week’s episode of The Great British Bake Off.” James said grandly as soon as Marlene had signalled that she was recording. “This week, it’s bread week.”

Remus sighed. He fucking loved bread. He was coeliac, so he didn’t eat bread but… he fucking loved bread.

“For our first challenge,” Sirius announced, “Our judges would like to see two plaited loaves. Any flavouring is up to you, but each loaf should be twelve inches in length with clear, defined plaits.”

The bakers all nodded and the camera panned around the room to catch everyone’s reactions. 

“Alright then, Sirius, dough you want to tell them to begin?”

Remus bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. That pun was so cringy but Remus was a sucker for bad jokes. 

“Why yes James, I most certainly dough. Three, two one… Bake!”

Marlene started her rounds today by coming straight to Remus.

“So Remus, what’re you making today?” James asked, appearing by his side. 

“Well the first one, is going to have basil and some tomato sauce and then have some mozzarella plaited in.” Remus said as he took out a glass bowl and began adding ingredients to it. “Then the second one is going to have four different kinds of cheese in it.”

“So basically, no one who’s lactose intolerant can go anywhere near your bread.”

Remus laughed and scratched his cheek. “Pretty much. But I mean, neither of them will be gluten free, so I can’t eat them either.”

James grinned. “I suppose I’ll just have to be your official taste tester then.”

“You know, those already exist. They’re called judges.” Remus chirped and Sirius who was passing laughed, shooting Remus an appreciative look.

James moved on to Lily and Remus could hear her telling him about her toffee bread. Remus had seen her practicing it - it always looked amazing and the other contestants had raved about it. Remus had gotten the recipe from her and he was going to try to make a gluten-free version when all of this was over.

Remus covered the bowls with a layer of cellophane and put them in the proving drawer, waiting until they had at least doubled in size before he would take them out again.

In the meantime, Remus got busy finely chopping fresh basil, making a tomato sauce and slicing mozzarella.

“Looking good, Lupin.” Sirius said, jumping up to sit on the end of Remus’ bench, away from the food.

“Why thank you.” Remus said then had to slap Sirius’s hand away when he tried to steal a slice of cheese. “Oi, get away you cheeky bugger.”

Sirius shrugged,” I’m just trying to relieve James of his official taste tester duties.”

“You’re trying to relieve yourself from your stomach grumbling is more like.” Remus shot back, but he held out a chopping board with his many different cheeses all neatly sliced and grinned. “Go on then, you can have one.”

Sirius’s eyes glimmered. “You know, I quite like you Lupin.” He said, before hopping off the table and wandering away.

“It’s a good thing I quite like cheese Mr Lupin.” Dumbledore said in an almost teasing tone as they reached Remus’ bench to judge. They cut the first loaf and each had a taste.

“I think I would have liked it to have stayed in the oven for a little longer.” McGonagall said, “It’s just missing the really crusty outside we were looking for. But the flavours are wonderful, I quite like the concept.”

“And I, as the official taste tester, i think it’s amazing.” James said, stealing a slice and there were a couple of giggles around the tent. Even Remus cracked a smile.

“Let’s move on to the next one, shall we?” Remus just nodded, his jaw clenched as he listened. This time, the knife made a much more satisfying sound as it cut through the bread. Remus couldn’t help but sigh a little in relief, his eyes trained on the loaf to see if the bake was even.

“Now, this one is much better.” Dumbledore said before he took a bite. His eyes fluttered closed as he chewed and Remus pursed his lips together to stop himself from smiling. “Very enjoyable Mr Lupin, I can’t find a fault with this one.”

McGonagall nodded in agreement and with that they moved over to Lily’s bench. Remus sat down on his stool with a sigh, his shoulders slumping.

 “Hey, good job. ”Sirius whispered as he passed and Remus smiled. Yeah, he quite liked bread.

“Ah look at little Remus, eating his salad.” Tonks teased, ruffling his hair as she plopped down on the chair next to him. Remus scowled. “Believe me, if I could be eating bread like the rest of you lot, I would be.”

“Alas, alack!” A guy Peter, another contestant proclaimed. “We get to eat your bread though. It’s so good mate, much better than that sad lump I presented.”

Everyone around the table started sniggering. Peter had had a bit of an accident resulting in burned bread. It was edible, but it really hadn’t looked like much.

“I’m really going to have to up my game in the next two challenges.” He moaned. “I really don’t want to go home yet.” They all nodded in agreement and the table went quiet for a moment as everyone thought while they munched.

“What a rowdy bunch you lot are.” Sirius said, he and James each pulling up a chair. ”Can we…?” He asked, pointing to the selection of breads, all sliced in the middle of the table.

“Yeah of course,” Remus said. “They’re there to eat.”

Remus certainly didn’t that Sirius immediately went for one of the loaves he made. Nope. Not at all.

“So how are we all feeling about the next challenge?” James asked, tearing parts off his hunk of bread and popping them into his mouth.

“Oh my god, new rule.” Tonks declared. “No competition talk when we’re on our breaks. I need to talk about something other than the ratio of sugar to flour.”

Sirius chuckled at her abruptness. “Fair enough. Let’s see… What are your favourite colours?”

“Basic question.” Tonks countered, leaning back in her chair, “But I’ll take it. Mine is pink.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.” Remus said dryly, gesturing to her hair. Lily choked on her food.

“What’s yours then Remus?” Tonks challenged. 

Remus shrugged. “I don’t have a favourite, I like them all.”

“Even brown?” Peter piped in. 

“Especially brown. It’s the colour of chocolate. It’s also like the most hated colour, it needs some appreciation.”

“It’s one of the most hated colours because it’s boring. Like is there any colour more dull than brown?” James asked.

“Beige.” Lily said and James pointed a finger at her, indicating that she had made a valid point. “Okay, that’s very fair. Beige is boring as fuck.”

“I can’t believe this is a conversation we’re having.” Sirius mused and Remus looked at him incredulously. “You’re the one who started it!”

“I asked for favourite colours, not the opposite. It was you who set us on this dull - coloured path.” Sirius counted, his eyes playful. Tonks looked between the two of them for a moment before checking her watch.

“I hate to be the one to break up the band but, it’s time for us to get back to it.”

“Ah, the woes of the working life.” Sirius lamented and Remus snorted. 

“Oh hush, you have like, the best job ever.”

Sirius threw his arm around James’ shoulders. “That’s very true. Come on then Jamie, let’s get back to it.”

“Our next challenge, is of course our technical.” James announced as the cameras began rolling. “This week, our judges have asked you to make bagels.”

“You should have five identical bagels at the end. Your instructions are on your bench.”

“Ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus lifted the cloth that was covering the ingredients and recipe McGonagall and Dumbledore had written for them. He both loved and hated the technical, possibly for the same reasons. The steps were vague and needed a lot of thought which was pretty annoying but it challenged him and pushed him to see what kind of baker he was. 

“You ever made these?” Lily asked and Remus shook his head. “No, never. You?”

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’. “This should be interesting.”

Remus chuckled as he began reading the instructions. make a dough, it read.

“Don’t you love how specific these instructions are?” Remus said to Tonks sarcastically and some of her hair fell out of her comically short ponytail as she laughed.

“This dough is meant to be stretchy I think.” Lily commented and Remus nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too.”

Remus set to work, covering his dough in cellophane once more and popping it into the proving drawer. 

“You know I could really get used to this proving business,” he commented, “It gives me the chance to make a cup of tea.”

“Glad to see you have your priorities.” Sirius joked as he appeared. “Any chance I can have one too?” Remus just nodded to the bench in response, where he had already taken out a mug for Sirius. 

Sirius finished making the tea as Remus took out a pot, filled it with water and put it on the hob to boil. Just then a panicked wail sounded through the tent. 

“Oh lord, I’ve just gone and dropped my dough. Repeat, I dropped my dough.”

James was immediately at his side to help him figure it out. They chatted intensely for a minute, the cameras circling like vultures as Peter forlornly tossed the ruined dough in the bin, but began to make a new one. Remus let out a shaking breath on his friends behalf, Peter would really be racing against the clock. 

“It’s make it or break it time.” Remus said, turning back to his own work , decking to focus on that for now. His thoughts wouldn’t help Peter and all Remus could do right now was work on his own project. Having divided his dough and rolled it into shape, he boiled them one by one, praying he was doing the right thing. “And now you fuckers are going in the oven.”

“Oh my god Remus.” Marlene said. “We had great footage of you there and you totally just ruined it.”

“Sorry sorry, I’ll do it again.” Remus smirked and slid the tray into the oven. “And now you little shits are going in the oven.”

Marlene just turned around and left as Sirius’ laugh filled the tent. 

Remus walked up to the table to present his baking to be judged. As per the rules, he placed the plate down behind his picture and sat in one of the stools lined up, facing the table. McGonagall and Dumbledore arrived, looking much to chipper for Remus liking, not when he was struggling not to start biting his nails. He chose instead to pick at the hem of his jumper until Lily took his hand in hers. He was grateful - he really liked this jumper.

Peter was disappointed but not at all surprised when his bagels hadn’t risen enough. How could they have when making a second batch had essentially cut out the proving process. Tonks’ were a bit too small. Lily’s were a bit too chewy. Remus  bit his lip to stop himself from beaming when his were the best of the bunch. Still not perfect, not by a long shot, but he had won the technical challenge and his relief sent him out of the tent, unable to lessen the grin on his face as Marlene questioned him.

“How are you feeling, after today?”

“I’m feeling pretty good! I got off to a bit of a rocky start today, but I think I recovered well so I’m looking forward to sinking my teeth into the challenge tomorrow.”

Marlene gave him a thumbs up and wandered away to find some of the others.

“Well done Mr Technical Challenge!” Lily cried, slinging her arm around his waist as they began to walk back to the hotel. 

“Why thank you, Ms Star Baker.”

“We make quite the pair.” Lily observed.

“That, my dear Lily, we most certainly do.”

Remus woke up in Lily’s room.

“Ugh, that alarm is so loud.” Remus groaned and ignored Lily giggling at him.

“I can’t believe how much you’re not a morning person, you seem like you’re hungover or something.”

“I am hungover as a result of life, Lily.” He muttered. “Existing is exhausting.”

“By god, you really are dramatic in the morning.” She gathered up a towel and some toiletries. “I’m going for a shower and to get ready. Meet you for breakfast in twenty?”

Remus nodded in agreement, shoved on his shoes and started gathering the one or two belongings he had. He hadn’t meant to sleep in Lily’s room, but they had stayed up so late talking the pair had just drifted off. It had been the best night Remus had spent her so far - he and Lily curled up under a pile of blankets, each nursing a mug of hot chocolate as they gossiped like school girls.

Remus stepped out the door and very closely avoided a collision with Sirius.

“I’m getting a freaky sense of deja vu right now.” Remus said, grinning.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “This… isn’t your room.”

Remus shook his head as they began walking down the corridor. “Nah, it’s Lily’s, I’m heading back to mine now.”

“You and… Lily?”

Remus choked as he realized what Sirius was thinking. “No, no, God no. I mean, Lily’s fantastic but no. We’re just friends, we fell asleep talking.”

Sirius’ shoulders almost seemed to visibly lighten. “Oh right, yeah.”

Remus grinned and nudged Sirius’ shoulder with his own playfully. “Lily’s not really my type.”

“Oh yeah? What is your type then?”

“Oh you know… not women.”

Sirius smirked and looked at Remus sideways. “Now that, sounds like something I quite relate to.”

Remus slowed to a stop as they reached his door. “I suppose I’ll see you in the tent?”

“That seems pretty unavoidable, doesn’t it?” Sirius threw him a cheeky wink and turned on his heel, continuing down the hall. Remus would be lying if he said he didn’t watch him walk away.

“Welcome back for our showstopper challenge!” Sirius said, smiling at all the contestants. 

“This will be your second showstopper, so get ready.”

“That’s right,” James continued, “This week's challenge will be to bake pull apart rolls.”

“Jamie, are you sure you have the right challenge? That doesn’t sound very showstopper like.”

“Why thank you Sirius, you’d be right. I did forget to mention that your rolls should make the shape of your favourite animal.”

Remus rolled his eyes at the obviously pre prepared banter and yet he found himself smiling anyways. 

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus immediately set to work, knowing exactly what he wanted to do and how to do it, however he had been cutting it quite close on time every time he had practised, so he wanted to work as quickly as possible to allow for all and any mishaps that tended to happen under pressure. 

He made, proved and rolled out his dough in record time and was now assembling the little rolls into the shape he wanted. He was shading the top with poppy and sesame seeds and stepped back for a moment to admire his handy work. He was in no way close to an artist, except for when it came to baking. If his canvas was starch and glucose, he might as well be Michelangelo. 

He made one or two more adjustments before putting it in the oven for thirty minutes. That still gave him twenty minutes to spare, making this the fastest he had ever completed his challenge. Maybe the pressure had its benefits after all

“Oh fuck.” He heard Lily say from behind him. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” She cried, her time getting more and more panicked. 

“Lily?” Remus asked, whirling around in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to turn the oven on.” She whispered, her face pale. 

“You… What?”

“I forgot to turn the oven on! Remus I’m screwed this won't heat up for at least ten minutes and I have fifty minutes of work left at least!

Remus wasn’t sure what overcame him in that moment, maybe some panicked curled hormones but suddenly he was in full disaster mode. 

“Okay,” he muttered, opening his own oven and adding another wire rack. “Okay Lily, put yours in here with mine while your oven heats up. It’s not ideal, I know but it’ll get you started.”

“Remus Lupin.” Lily declared as she collected her tray and walked around her own bench to reach him. “You are my literal hero.”

She lifted herself up on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek swiftly before putting her doe - shaped dough in the oven and racing back to her own workspace to turn hers on. 

Remus let out a shaky breath as he sat down for a moment. It was such a simple mistake that could happen to any of them.  Remus vowed to himself to be extra vigilant from now on and to never assume he did anything on muscle memory. Here everything was strange and new and it could quite throw off your routine, especially if you’re used to working consistently in one particular venue. 

“That, Mr Lupin, was quite the save.” Sirius commented, swooping in like he always did. Remus smiled weakly and ran his fingers through his hair. Just then Lily appeared again and took her bread out of the oven. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cried as she dashed back to work, putting her bread in her own oven with a deafening clang. 

“Thirty five minutes left!” Sirius called and Remus stood up cracking his knuckles. He could chat to Sirius later, right now? He still had a little work to do. He grabbed the little bit of extra dough he had set aside in the fridge and set to work. 

“Mr Lupin, if you would please bring your challenge up to the table.” McGonagall called and even in his mild panic, Remus could still take a moment to appreciate the lovely lilt in her words. 

He set his baking down on the table and stepped back to look at his work - a wolf, howling at a full moon.

“The moon detailing is quite clever Mr Lupin.” Dumbledore said and Remus sighed in relief. It had been the little bit of dough he had set aside - put in the oven later to account for it’s smaller size.

“It certainly looks excellent, but the question stands; how does it taste.

“Remus winced as they pulled apart his, frankly, perfect design and each took a bite. Dumbledore gave him a broad smile and Remus bit his lip, grinning.

“I think you’ll find we’re very pleased Mr Lupin. These truly are very good.”

Remus could actually pay attention to the rest of the assessments after that thrilling review. He watched Peter present his rat bread (side note - what in the world had possessed him to make food in the shape of a rat?), Lily displayed her doe which had turned out very well in the end and some guy even made an alpaca. Remus didn’t know that dude too well yet, but he thought his name was Benji.

They all sat once more on the stools lined up at the front of the tent while the judges made their decisions. James and Sirius regaled them all with stories from their childhood while they waited,

“And then what do you know?” James cried, his hands flying everywhere as he told the story. “I look up, and there’s Sirius, hanging out the second floor window with his trousers down around his ankles.”

The entire room burst out laughing, Remus was pretty sure there were tears streaming down his face.

“But what made you think that would be a good idea?” Remus wheezed, still unable to breathe properly for all his laughing, but desperate to get a look into teenage Sirius’ state of mind.

Sirius just shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He admitted sheepishly and that set everyone off into another round of deafening laughter, when the judges walked in and they all sobered quite quickly.

James and Sirius conferred with them quietly in the corner a moment before walking back over to the contestants.

“Today, I have the absolute pleasure of announcing our star baker.” Sirius said, looking around the room with a small smile. “Our star baker this week is…” Sirius scanned the crowd for a moment before his eyes landed on Remus. “Remus.”

Remus didn’t even move. He wasn’t even sure he could if he had wanted to. He had won star baker.

“Which leaves me with the awful job of announcing who’s leaving us today.” James said in a flat tone but Remus didn’t even hear or register that some guy Fabien was leaving. He was just another baker Remus didn’t even know that well. But he was star baker. Lily pulled him into a hug and held him tight. The room around him was filled with pats on the back and congratulations and Sirius looked him right in the eye and mouthed well done.

Remus was pretty sure he wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Remus, would you be alright calling your family on camera? We’d just like to capture their reaction.”

Remus nodded and rang his mom. She answered on the first ring. “Hi, Ma?” Guess what?”

“What is it love, how did your day go?”

“I won star baker.”

Marlene giggled behind the camera as Hope let out a series of delighted yells. Remus laughed along with her for a moment. “Okay mam, I’ve got to go finish my interview, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

He said his goodbyes, hung up the phone and turned back to the camera. “So Remus, what were you thinking throughout the challenges?”

“Well after the first one, I kept thinking I’m going home for sure. But obviously I recovered a bit.”

“A bit? Marlene chuckled. “From going home to star baker. I’d say you recovered quite a lot.”

Remus chatted with Marlene for a few more minutes before she sent him away, claiming she had taken up enough of his time. Just as he was beginning to leave, Sirius sidled up to him.

“Well, if it isn’t the brightest star.” Remus teased.

“I think that today,” Sirius countered, “That would be you.”

Remus blushed and looked down at his feet. “Want to walk back to the hotel?

Sirius smiled. “That sounds like a plan.”

[the-voltage-diaries]

I’m only one call away, I’ll be there to save the day - Daisuke Kambe x Haru Katou

AO3 link

This is the literal definition of self indulgence I’m not even kidding you.

And I totally did not write the last 1/3rd of it in a car because I didn’t have the patience to get home.

And this is unedited. So if you find errors please spare my humble life. I LITERALLY WROTE THIS ENTIRE THING TODAY. The inspiration istg.

Summary:

Daisuke Kambe doesn't get nervous. He doesn't overthink. He doesn't doubt anything he does, or any decision he makes. Except when he's in the dressing room, waiting for Hoshino to come and escort him to his soon-to-be husband. 'Cold feet' is the farthest term one would use to describe Daisuke, yet here he stands in front of the large mirror, wondering if he's good enough for the man whose eyes shine brighter than any star he's seen.

All it takes is one call.

And before he knows it, Haru right there in front of him.

He needs his hero, and Haru is there.

TW: Panic Word count: 3136 (woohoo)

Special tag: @akaiiro-yume​ for being my ultimate simp buddy. I told her this whole thing as just an idea and she said she felt like crying and I was like FUCK IT IM GONNA WRITE IT. So here we are. Thank you. 

“Daisuke Kambe,” Haru called his name, his voice so gentle it almost got drowned by the waves as he looked straight ahead at them with Kambe by his side. The serene way his lips curved into a peace smile hid with such grace the nervousness shooting up his spine. 

“Mm?” Daisuke glanced at his boyfriend, wondering why the inspector suddenly chose to call him by his full name instead of the usual ‘bastard’, ‘pain in the ass’, ‘idiot’, or just ‘Kambe’.

‘Am I doing the right thing? Are we ready for this?’

“What is it, Haru?”

“Marry me.”

Daisuke’s eyes widened, and he stared at Haru without blinking even once. “... What?”

“I said,” Haru turned to look at him, giving him an awkward little grin before grabbing Daisuke’s hands in his own and slowly going on one knee, “Marry me, ‘Suke.”

That was all it took. That nickname.

Daisuke felt every tense nerve in his body relax almost immediately as the answer came as naturally to him as breathing.

“Okay.”

Daisuke’s gloved hand wraps around the glass, his soft lips placing themselves on its rim to take another sip of water. It’s probably his tenth sip in the last two minutes (and counting).

“Lord Daisuke, you look incredible!” Suzue remarks, and he sees her smile at him through the mirror.

“Mm.”

“I can’t believe you and Katou-sama are finally getting married.” Suzue steps up behind Daisuke to smoothen the non-existent wrinkles on the thick piece of blue fabric covering his shoulders.

‘I can’t either.’

“It feels like just yesterday when you came back to Japan,” she continues, not noticing the way Daisuke’s nervous fingers fiddle with his cufflinks, “And now it’s already been six years… time passed by too quickly, didn’t it?”

“It has.”

Silence descends over them like a calm cloud while Suzue busies herself by fussing around with his three-piece suit, straightening it more than it already is, rubbing off any invisible lints, fixing his already perfect tie - a crisp, sophisticated taupe - and Daisuke lets his mind wander off once again.

He thinks about the six years he’s spent in Japan. But more specifically, he thinks about the time he spent by his side.

He thinks of all their firsts; their first meeting, their first argument, the first time he let Haru fall (not for him, but off the bridge), their first show of trust, first confessions, first kisses, first everything.

He thinks of their life after they decided to become more than just friends or colleagues. All of the small ways in which Haru reminded him, every day, just how much he adored him. Daisuke thinks of all those cuddles, all the nuzzles, all the intertwining of fingers.

And before he can stop it, a smile - albeit small but so full of love you could feel it radiating off of him - is gracing his lips.

‘Thank you.’ He finds himself thanking Haru in both his mind and heart… for just about everything. 

“Lord Daisuke, are you okay?” Suzue asks, snapping him out of his heartwarming walk down the memory lane.

“Yes, why?”

“Your eyes…” she trails off, and Daisuke’s gaze shifts from looking at her through the mirror to himself. A small gasp leaves his lips when he sees what’s got Suzue so worried about his eyes.

Tears.

A thin layer of unshed tears coats those calm eyes, and Daisuke feels his heart clench with absolute adoration when he realises the meaning behind such a blatant show of emotions.

These tears aren’t of pain. Or of agony. Or of suffering.

There are tears of gratitude. Of love. Of unrestrained joy at the mere thought of the wonderful man waiting for him at the same beach where he proposed.

“I’m fine, Suzue.” Daisuke says, his eyes never leaving the ones in the mirror. “I’m just… overwhelmed,” he admits, taking a deep breath in.

Suzue smiles. “I can understand. It IS a big day, after all.” She turns around, walking towards the door. “I’ll be outside.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it. He couldn’t be more grateful to have a sister who understood him so well that they didn’t need words to get their message across.

And with that, Suzue steps out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving Daisuke alone with his thoughts.

His eyes travel to the clock on one of the walls of the gigantic room, and he sees that he’s still got some time before Hoshino would come by to escort him to his lover. And his fiance.

Daisuke feels another smile tugging at his lips at the word, and he briefly thinks about how he’s been smiling too much today before his mind again wanders off to the man responsible for making him smile so much.

‘He’s too good to me,’ Daisuke thinks, sighing fondly. ‘He makes me believe that it’s okay to feel this… that it’s okay to feel happy. Sometimes it feels like it’s too good to be true.’

And that’s when it strikes him. The one thought which makes his shoulders go stiff, and his lips press themselves together in a stiff line.

‘But… What if it IS too good to be true?’

Daisuke’s mind decides to take another walk down the memory lane, but this time the road isn’t filled with Haru’s smile, or his warmth. This time, the road is dark, cold, unwelcoming. It’s filled with every memory of each time things felt too good to be true… and they were.

‘What if… what if this doesn’t last?’ He thinks, the pictures of his own parents clouding every space they could find in his head.

Haru and him wouldn’t end the same way… right?

‘Would I be able to make Haru happy?’

… As happy as Haru made him?

‘Everything I ever cared for in my life was ripped away from me… Will Haru and I be the same way?’

He notices as his chest starts rising and falling at a faster pace, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

‘Is it because I’ve been weak? I haven’t been able to protect the people important to me. I-I’ve never been good enough. What if… I still am not good enough?’ 

Daisuke’s eyes widen, terror seeping into them as his mind chooses to project a mental image of Haru walking, but not towards him. It’s an image of Haru having his back turned towards Daisuke, and he is walking away.

‘Am I even worthy of being loved?’

Daisuke thinks back on all the warm, loving moments that he thought of not even five minutes ago, but this time his mind focuses on his own actions instead of Haru’s

‘Haru has done so much to show me he loves me. How many times have I done the same?’

The back of his eyes burn so hard it feels like they’re on fire, and he finds it harder to breathe; he feels as if someone’s just wrapped their fingers around the base of his throat and is squeezing, hard. 

‘Is Haru happy with me? WILL he be happy with me?’

His own fingers come up to his throat, as if trying to replace the invisible ones.

‘Should we even be getting married? What if he realises I’m not worth it?’

‘Where are you, Haru?’ is what his heart screams instead, but he doesn’t hear it.

‘O-oh god, I cannot be forcing him to marry me.’

‘I need you, Haru. Find me. Please, find me.’

‘He doesn’t love me. He shouldn’t be marrying me.’

‘Haru, please. Save me.’

I’m only one call away.

He doesn’t even notice his fingers finding the surface of his phone and he is too busy letting himself fall down the dark spiral his mind lay out for him to bother seeing what his fingers are doing with the phone.

Daisuke feels his feet give away, and he slowly slides down to the floor. His body trembles, his breathing continues to quicken, and he feels something dark crawl up his spine.

It’s something he can’t describe, but it’s so dark and so… consuming. He feels like his mind is being ripped into shreds, as if someone is slowly claiming their control over it.

“H-Haru…” He whimpers and looks up, closing his eyes. He feels the thick layer of tears forming beyond his lids collapse as silent tears stream down his face. He opens his mouth to breathe, but the inhale turns into a choked sob.

He wasn’t good enough. He isn’t good enough. And he never will be good enough.

Daisuke bites his trembling lips and brings his knees closer to his body in an attempt to hide away from himself. 

Hah. What a pitiful sight. And Haru thought THIS weak little boy would be good enough for him? He should leave him while he still has time.

“Haru… please. I need you. Pl-Please don’t leave m-”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

I’ll be there to save the day.

Daisuke’s head snaps in the direction of the voice; a voice powerful enough to break the hold of what was slowly crawling through his mind, consuming him whole.

“Haru…” he whispers, blinking the tears away in an attempt to clear his vision.

The attempt is futile anyway, because the moment his sight comes into focus, he feels a pair of all too familiar arms pull him into a strong chest. “I’m right here,” Haru murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead before sitting down in front of him and pulling Daisuke between his legs.

“I-” Daisuke’s eyes widen, confusion slowly colouring over every other thought for the moment. “Wasn’t it Hoshino who was supposed to come?”

“You really expect me to ask Hoshino to check in on you when you call my number and then say my name the way you said it?”

‘I called him?’

“You sounded like someone was forcefully pulling every ounce of life out of you.”

“... I did?”

‘Yes, you bastard. You scared the living fucks out of me, y’know?’ Haru thinks, but instead of saying anything, he only pulls Daisuke closer to him.

He smiles when he feels Daisuke return the gesture.

Daisuke’s arms wrap around Haru’s neck and he places his face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep sniff of the latter’s scent. He feels his panic flow out of his body as the warmth of the man himself washes over his entire being.

“H-Haru-” the millionaire stutters, tears again filling his eyes, now that he’s had a moment for everything to catch up to him. Haru’s arms only pull him closer, as close as physically possible, and that’s when Daisuke notices some things he didn’t see earlier.

“You’re safe. I’m here. I’m with you. And I’m not going anywhere.” Haru speaks in between pants, his forehead covered with a thin, barely there layer of sweat.

‘He RAN all the way here?’ Daisuke thinks, taking in every bit of whatever Haru offered him; his love, his warmth, his confidence, his belief in them.

Superman got nothin’ on me.

“Haru.” Daisuke pulls his head back to look at the taupe-haired man.

“What?” Haru replies, his head still facing down. He doesn’t look up, and Daisuke can only wonder why.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Haru.”

“No.” “I love you.”

Haru’s head snaps up at the speed of light, his eyes so wide Daisuke fears his eyeballs might pop out of their sockets.

But now that Haru’s finally looking at him, Daisuke takes the opportunity to find out for himself why the man absolutely refused to look up at him just moments ago.

He feels all the air drain out from his lungs at the findings of his inspection.

‘He’s trembling.’

“I was so scared, Kambe,” Haru whispers, his head dropping on Daisuke’s shoulder. “I was so scared when I heard you sound so… weak.” 

“I love you.” Daisuke repeats, and this time it’s him who places a kiss on the other man’s forehead.

“I love you too.”

Haru looks up, and their lips come together so naturally and so perfectly, one would think it was meant to be. And maybe it was. 

And just like that, they sit there for a few minutes, wrapped up in their own warm little bubble, the world forgotten.

“Oi, Kambe,” Haru murmurs into Daisuke’s shoulder, successfully catching the attention of the shorter man. “What really happened?”

Daisuke sucks in a sharp breath, knowing exactly what Haru was talking about. The fingers holding on to Haru tighten a little more as he opens his mouth, and begins explaining what actually went down.

Daisuke speaks, and speaks. He expresses every minute detail, because he knows Haru is listening. Haru always listens. And he doesn’t just listen, he makes sure the other knows that he is there for him no matter what.

I’m only one call away.

Once he is done telling Haru everything, he looks at him with baited breath, trying to gauge Haru’s reaction. The only answer he gets is utter confusion as Haru pulls back from their embrace and stands up, brushing the barely-there dust off his suit. He looks down at his lover and extends a hand out to him.

But instead of grabbing that hand, Daisuke’s eyes get lost in the very gorgeousness of sight Haru Katou presents. Haru’s dressed in a three-piece suit, just like Daisuke himself, but it’s taupe in colour. His tie is the same blue as Daisuke’s suit, and he looks downright ravishing.

“We haven’t got all day, idiot.”

Haru sighs, grabbing Daisuke by the hand and pulling him up. He quickly wipes Daisuke’s tears and makes him look presentable (as if he wasn’t already) before dragging him to the door.

Haru opens the door to the dressing room, but before they can step out, Daisuke stops him.

“What are you doing?” Daisuke asks, his brows furrowed and the usual disinterest back on his face.

“Walking down the aisle with my bride.”

“You do know that you’re not supposed to be the one escorting me.”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

“Katou Haru. Are you joking with me?”

Haru turns around to meet Daisuke’s eyes and pulls the shorter man to him with one tug on his arm. He bends his head, giving Daisuke a quick kiss before pulling back and whispering, “Why? Is there a problem?”

Daisuke isn’t even given the time to blush, because Haru is already turning on his feet and walking down the hallway, pulling the millionaire behind him. They keep walking for a short while, even after they leave the building and step onto the beach, before Haru finally comes to a stop.

“We’re here.” 

Daisuke pokes his head from behind Haru’s back to see where exactly they are. “Oh my sweet bleeding heart.”

“Of all things in the world, that’s the first thing you say, rascal?”

“Haru, I-” Daisuke is quite literally at a loss for words, because right now, in this very moment, in front of him is a low stage setup with curtains falling around it in a circular fashion, and tiny fairy lights giving it it’s very own magical glow. It’s like a world within a world. A world away from everyone, from everything - a world for just the two of them.

“Come on, you and make it anywhere. But for now… we can stay here for a while.” Haru mutters, glancing at Daisuke, “'Cause you know, I just wanna see you smile.”

“Very cheesy, I’ll give you that,” Daisuke chuckles, stepping on to the stage. “So…” he turns to look at Haru, “What now?”

“Dance with me.” Haru says, and then there is no going back.

All it takes is a nod from Daisuke and Haru steps closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“What is it?” Haru asks, noticing the furrow of Daisuke’s brows.

“We have no music.”

“I got it covered,” is all Haru says before snapping his fingers, and almost immediately, music fills the space around them. 

“What song is this?” Daisuke asks, letting Haru pull him in by the waist and following his lead.

“Doesn’t matter. Focus on the lyrics. Oh, and me, of course.”

And so Daisuke does.

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day

Daisuke’s eyes stare into Haru’s as their feet move together, and he smiles at the lyrics, letting the other man know just how much he loves him. And this. Just how grateful he is for it all.

Superman got nothin' on me

And Daisuke can’t help but agree with that. His fingers gip Haru’s a little tighter as he sighs, his head coming to rest on the other’s shoulder.

I'm only one call away

Call me, baby, if you need a friend I just wanna give you love

“I love you,” Daisuke whispers at that, pressing a kiss to where his forehead rested just a moment ago. 

Come on, come on, come on Reachin' out to you, so take a chance

Daisuke pulls back a couple of steps, only to have Haru reach his arm out. He grabs it, doing a slow spin and falling into the arms of the man he loves more than his life could possibly define.

No matter where you go You know you're not alone

“I love you too.”

Silence soon falls between them and they both close their eyes, letting the music be their voice.

Come along with me and don't be scared I just wanna set you free

Come on, come on, come on You and me can make it anywhere

Realisation finally dawns on Daisuke as he realises where Haru’s words from earlier really came from. He smirks.

But for now, we can stay here for a while, ayy 'Cause you know, I just wanna see you smile

“You’re just a giant ball of sap, aren’t you?” He retorts, looking up at Haru. He might be smirking, but even he can’t hide the affection that swells up in his eyes as his hands reach up to wrap around Haru’s neck, allowing the latter to snake both his arms around Daisuke’s waist.

“Shut up.”

And when you're weak, I'll be strong I'm gonna keep holdin' on

“I’ll never let you go, Katou.”

Now don't you worry, it won't be long, darlin' And when you feel like hope is gone

Haru smiles, pulling Daisuke closer to him.

Just run into my arms

“Funny, because I don’t plan to let you go either, bastard.”

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day

“You really are a hero, you know, Haru?”

Superman got nothin' on me

“Just yours, ‘Suke. Just yours.” Haru murmurs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against Daisuke’s.

I'm only one, I'm only one call away

“Forever.” Daisuke replies, his own eyes slowly shutting.

“And ever.”

Fin.

DONTCHA WORRY THEY DID GET MARRIED IN THE END THEY DIDNT FORGET ABOUT IT

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Caesar Gattuso - Year One

Cassell College, Norton Hall

Norton Hall was not accustomed to this level of decadence. The stately hall had hosted its own manner of events that catered to lords and ladies in the fashion of high society, but this event had the formality of a massive rock concert-slash-frat party. Although the sun had set, it was still technically Freedom Day and Caesar Gattuso had made his presence known in his first year by winning the contest. Now it was time to cement his legacy. As soon as the announcement of the winner was read, trucks rushed to surround Norton Hall and opened their back doors to reveal equipment that had to have been ordered weeks in advance. Huge speakers, stage equipment, sound, lighting and confetti. By the time the guests arrived, the music was loud enough to shake the building. 

The blue and white Sikorsky helicopter, the mother of all helicopters, swooped over Norton Hall blowing the hair of the women and sending decorations flying. A rope was lowered down and Caesar Gattuso - year one - swung down recklessly, a vicious cold smile on his face, firing a gun in the air. There was a moment of gaiety and joy as the new students of the Student Union welcomed their President with cheers and raised glasses and thunderous applause.

Caesar landed cleanly in his Cassell Uniform, that old green, but he quickly tossed away that jacket to reveal his bare muscular chest. A huge crate landed on the ground next to him and he opened it and pulled out a huge gun that looked like a bazooka and fired it into the air. The rocket exploded into bright red fireworks and he laughed, like a joyous king on conquering the enemy capital. The jacket soared into the gathered crowd in the garden where the women in bathing suits pounced on it, tearing and yanking on it like packs of hyenas.  The day was hot and humid and the perfect time for a pool party. There should not have been any time to build a real pool but Caesar anticipated his win so far in advance that he ordered the sculpture garden revamped. The water was just ready enough as he made his entrance and all the guests dove into a new pool that stretched the length of the backyard.

Dancers surrounded the pool in sequined bathing suits waving feather fronds in their own individual spotlights. The walls of the outside of the building were covered in billboard-sized LED screens so people could watch themselves party. The sound and lighting alone had to cost a few hundred grand and the power demands were so great that generator trucks sat outside. But Caesar doesn’t care about time, money, or restrictions. That’s why he hires people. He just wanted it done and Caesar had over staffed. The attendance was bloated with waiters pouring champagne, valets taking clothes to lockers, cooks replenishing the buffet and cleaning up crew to cart away the bottles. He never wanted his guests to wait or wonder when the next plate of hors dourves would pass by. He wanted everyone to get roaring drunk. And they weren't drinking from some old well. They were drinking the finest, top-shelf liquor and spirits a Gattuso could afford.

And that meant all of them, open bar. 

Security detail especially was huge.  Caesar was accustomed to party crashers. Before you could even approach Norton Hall on this night you had to get through layers of checkpoints. If you weren’t on the list, you couldn’t even approach the street the building was on and had to watch and listen from a distance, knowing that you just weren’t good enough to make the cut for Student Union.

Nono was poolside, cooling her toes in the water. Her bikini accentuated the curves of her body and the length of her legs. If anything was worthy about Cassell it was her. Despite the rich and joyous smiles of everyone around, their eyes met easily over the fray and the noise. She was calm as though this was a nice day at the beach and that unruffled manner in a sea of revelry just made his heart beat faster. He made his way over to her and offered her her own glass of Champagne which she accepted with serene grace. 

“Enjoying the party?” He asked, sitting down next to her.

She sipped, her eyes taking in the scene in front of her.. “Hm. It’s certainly fun watching everyone have such a good time. But I’m more curious about what’s happening next door.”

He followed her gaze. The revamping of the backyard to accommodate the pool had left a gap in the shrubbery and they could both see the cars parked out in front of Amber Hall as a shield. “Those flags on the antennae of the cars don’t come from any coat of arms or country I’ve ever seen. What about you?”

“It does seem like a state visit. The student inside registered as His Royal Highness.” Caesar smirked a bit. “But results on his exam are still pending. We’ll see how much of a King he really is.”

“Are you planning to start a war?” Her eyes sparkled with intrigue, that unique shade of crimson that fascinated him the moment he saw it the first time.

“Well, they’ve drawn the battleline already haven’t they?” Caesar’s eyes glittered with malicious humor. “Kings are meant to be conquered.” He finished off his glass and a waiter was there to take it immediately. “But since you’re so interested. Shall we go spy on the neighbors?”

“You’re going to ditch your own party that you paid millions for?” Nono snorted.

“I will if you want to.” He said softly, so that only she could hear.

Nono suddenly felt a perverse rise in rebellion at this but, in fact, she was curious who those people were. She didn’t answer verbally. She just stood up and started walking. Caesar followed. 

The only way to see over the trucks was to rise to the second floor but this mystery family had even thought of that and installed black tarps over the garden where people could go outside if they wanted fresh air. These tarps extended from the second story windows of Amber Hall to the SUVs. The rest of the grounds were empty of people. Nono had her bare legs over Caesar’s bare shoulders on the open air balcony, using binoculars to peer in though a tiny gap between the tarps, watching people pass by a single window. Because they thought the tarps would hide it, they left that window uncovered.

“They look older. The people in attendance aren’t students. But they must all be hybrids. Some of them are armed. I saw one with a gun earlier.” Nono said. “They look antique though. Nothing modern.”

“Old men come to cosplay? Typical royal family. Turns out this isn’t as interesting as I thought it would be.” Caesar said.

As soon as those words left his mouth, a sound reached his ears, soft, but unmistakable. A gunshot. Caesar blinked in confusion, not sure if he had heard right. Then another and another! 

“Something’s happened, the crowd is scattering!” Nono said.

He lowered Nono from his shoulders.. “Get down!”

“Hey, put me back up!” 

But Caesar had already vaulted over the balcony and landed on his feet, dashing towards Amber Hall. Nono followed him, determined not to let him get to know what was going on before she did.

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

While Dominic was taking his royal vows, a pair of green eyes watched him from the upper floor of Amber Hall. Those Green eyes belonged to Tjark - silent T - Beninga. He was also in a Cassell Uniform but stayed in the shadows. He’d heard of Dominic from his family after he got accepted to Cassell, his parents had applied for him to go here as a ‘special assignment’. His family were underground merchants, mercenaries, and the rich people below needed someone to watch their favored son and with his high level blood, he was a shoe in for the job. It wasn’t until after his arrival did he understand that his job wasn’t to protect the little prince, but to keep him from escaping.

Apparently, he didn’t want to be a prince. Tough break. You can’t pick your parentage.

But he didn’t mind being on watch duty. Dominic was easy on the eyes. If he played his cards right, perhaps he could be promoted to his closest side rather than being a peripheral.

When Dominic fell to the floor, he sat up straight watching Sylke race to him with a feeling of jealousy. That is until his black sword nearly took off her head and the gun fired. Dominic was running up the stairs, firing the pistol, efficiently dropping people one by one and he felt his heart flutter with amazement, excitement, and admiration. He hadn’t really believed this guy was an escape artist. Now he could see it with his own eyes. His job was to stop him from getting away at any cost.

The man was racing right for him towards a second story window, but Tjark simply raised his foot to catch his shin. Dominic fell forward but twisted his body immediately to face him. His eyes were crazed and desperate. He was running for real.

Tjark was top of his class in Taekwondo, Karate and Judo and immediately as he saw that fiery bright light in Dominic’s eyes he felt it spark in him. He no longer had to hold back for sporting rules of competition. He wondered how many hits this guy could take as he lashed out with his fists against and again.

But each time he struck, Dominic continued to back away, ducking, keeping his distance and blocking with one arm. Until he reached the window. Tjark saw his plan and hurried to block him from jumping through. That glass wasn’t the safe kind that could break into little pebbles but the kind that would shatter into sharp blades.

Dominic raised the pistol and fired at Tjark’s head and Tjark ducked away.

Dominic recklessly leaped through it, crystal shards tearing into his suit as he rolled down the tarps to the vans with Tjark right behind him. “Are you insane?” He asked, laughing. 

Dominic didn’t answer, he just turned, fired the gun once, but his aim missed.  He leaped down from the SUV and took off towards where Caesar and Nono were approaching with stunned looks on their faces. He passed them with the full unnatural speed of a hybrid.

 “Nice ass, buddy!” Tjark hollered as he passed them. “Just let me handle this and go back to your party! I’ll see you later!”

Caesar sneered.

When Tjark turned back around, Dominic was on him like a tiger. As soon as he realized Tjark was distracted he turned right back around, ran back to him and destroyed his temple with a roundhouse kick that knocked him flat to the pavement. He pulled a pistol and shot him once before turning and running away.

Nono gasped and rushed to where Tjark was lying on the ground.

“He’s fine. That was an alchemy round. He’ll wake up in about thirty minutes.”  

At this time, people were pouring out of Amber Hall. “Find him! Don’t let him get away!”

Caesar’s eyes widened. This was way more fun than a frat party. A game of hide and seek, a scavenger hunt, a chase. He had to keep this in mind for the next Day of Liberty. He turned and ran back towards Norton Hall.

“Where are you going?” Nono asked.

 He shouted over his shoulder. The cold light in his eyes was replaced by a fiery challenge. “This is way more interesting. You’re right! I’m going to join in!”

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Return to Me - Chapter One

Chapter One: Still Hurting

A/N: Hi all! I know it’s been a long time coming and probably no one is as excited as I am, but here is the first chapter of my rewrite of Return to Me. If you read the original series, thank you! and also, know that this rewrite will flesh out the things that didn’t make sense, add in new characters, new outfits, have more backstory, and really just be a better story overall. 

The entire story isn’t written yet, but I’ve got a lot of it done, and after seeing the Rise of Skywalker for the fourth time, I couldn’t wait anymore. If you want to be tagged in the next chapter let me know! I’m going to try to post chapters every three or four days. This chapter is going to have a lot, including some face claims to get you introduced to the characters. If you have any questions or anything to say about the fic, please let me know what you think! I hope you all like it!!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 4,871 Synopsis: It has been two years since Poe and the reader saw each other last. As the pressure mounts from the threat of the First Order, the reader, now queen of Naboo, is asked to come back to the Resistance for some much needed help. But now, the reader must also face their daunting past as well.

Next Chapter

Since the days of legends like Padmé Amidala, the focus on painting a regal face on the monarch of Naboo had become less important. Royalty were no longer required to cover their faces with layers of white makeup and red dots on their cheeks; instead, a more natural look was given to the ruler. The people of Naboo wanted to see their rulers as they truly were, and as Naboo’s current queen, you were more than happy to comply.

Most mornings, you were up before the sun rose. Your days were filled with meetings and public events, dress fittings and policy discussions, and a million other little things that befell your title. You had to wake up early to get a start on these things, including sitting down with one of your handmaidens, typically Loré, so that your hair and makeup could be done.

Only on very rare and special occasions would you have to revert back to the traditional face paint. And unlike many of the rulers before you, you tried to stay away from heavy headdresses. You were accustomed to wearing big ball gowns, but the headdresses had made you fall forward more times than you would like to admit and were absolute torture on your neck.

You often got up early for all of this procession: the makeup, the hair, the clothing fittings, but today, it was the butterflies in your stomach that woke you up.

You couldn’t decide if it was nerves or excitement eating away in your stomach, but once you were up, there was no going back to sleep. You pulled out your datapad, going over your itinerary for the hundredth time. You had it memorized already, but if you didn’t keep your mind busy, it would quickly wander to more painful places.

By the time morning broke over Theed Palace, you had been up for two hours.

Nové and Sondé were the first to come in, the former, your oldest friend and most trusted handmaiden, the latter, another handmaiden and your double. Whenever there was trouble, or simply a misscheduling of events, Sondé took on the role of Queen Bhavisama when you couldn’t.

As they walked in, they both looked shocked at the fact that you were already awake, but Nové’s face corrected quickly. She knew exactly what had kept you up.

“Good morning,” Sondé said, bringing you a cup of tea.

“Morning. Thank you. Is everyone prepared for today?”

“We are,” Nové said, “And you, my lady?” She looked you in the eye, clearly trying to read an answer other than the one you were about to say.

“I am.”

“I know that General Organa has assured that you will be completely safe, but Loré installed a new lining to your coat. If worse comes to worse, and believe me, we have a million other precautions so that it won’t, nothing will be able to penetrate the coat.”

“Thank you,” you said to Nové, and as Loré came into the bedroom, looking as tired as you felt, you thanked her as well.

“Where exactly did you tell your council you were going?” Loré asked with a yawn, “I just ran into Lala Jrul in the hall and she wanted to wish us luck on our trip to Bith.”  You smirked slightly, glancing at Nové who had the same look on her face.

“As you well know, the Resistance isn’t exactly public. Most people think it’s just a myth, and until General Organa decides otherwise, we’ll keep its location and practices secret. I told Lord Broden where we were going as he has Leia’s permission, but the rest of my council thinks I’m going on a trip to Bith to discuss a trades deal with their leaders.”

“What’s going to happen when Bith has no recollection of this meeting and Jrul brings it up?”

“They’ll have memory of it,” you said, getting out of bed. Loré looked over at Sondé who answered her unspoken question with a nod. “Sondé is more than well versed on my trade policies, and the Bith are a friendly people, there’s nothing to worry about. She’ll do perfectly.”

“So, you’ll need two looks prepared?” Loré asked. You gave her a sweet smile. The visit to Bith had to be scrambled together quickly because Leia had only just recently invited you. Their resources were running low, and she needed help as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love a challenge.”

She had you sit first. Your makeup routine was always the same. It took twenty-seven minutes every time, but it meant that you had to sit still for twenty-seven minutes and try to stop your mind from wandering for twenty-seven minutes. Once your makeup was done, it was another ten minutes as she braided your hair down your back and wrapped it in a crown around your head. Nové came in shortly after with your travel gown and coat.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly as she helped you dress. She zipped the side of your dress up and dared a look up at you. She knew exactly where your mind had gone during those thirty-seven minutes. “It’s a short trip, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“He might not even be there.”

“I know.”

“You’ve already started campaigning for next term. The deal with Serenno—”

“I know, Nové,” you conceded. She fixed the hem of your dress and stood up, giving you a gentle smile.

“All set.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. She patted your arm as she went to fetch the dress that Sondé would be wearing on Bith, leaving you alone to center your mind on what was really important on this mission.

Your mother was a member of the Galactic Senate. She had told you about the rumblings of the First Order, and the senate’s complacency to let them continue their cold war with Leia’s secret Resistance as long as there was no open fighting.

It was despicable, and The First Order was only getting more and more blatant about what they were doing. There had been open violence, you had seen footage of it, but the Senate still refused to act. Leia asked you to visit to discuss getting the Resistance more resources, but you expected she would ask you another, more taxing question.

If the senate had already decided not to act, you weren’t sure a queen of one planet could convince them otherwise. Although, it had been done before. Leia would need to garner support with her allies and address the senate, either directly or through your mother.

“My lady,” the captain of your guard, Zaisa, said as she stood in the doorway, returning you to the present moment, “We’re ready for takeoff.”

“Thank you, I’ll be down in just a moment.” She nodded her head and closed the door behind her respectfully. You took one last look around the room, making sure you had everything you would need before plunging a dagger through your heart again.

You tried to take Nové’s advice. There was no guarantee that you would see him, and even if you did, nothing had changed. You were still the queen; he was still the Resistance’s best pilot. What happened before was done and you both knew it.

You took one last breath before making your way to your Royal Starship.

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

“I’m sorry, Captain Nolbowl is training a new pilot,” Nové explained as your ship took another jolt, “I told him to make sure he was careful but—"

“It’s fine,” you dismissed. Your stomach was already churning before you stepped on board, but now you weren’t sure if you could make it to D’Qar without getting sick.

You were anxious to see your old friends again, but you didn’t worry about what was waiting for you once your ship landed. You stood immediately, ready to get off. Nové came to you first and asked if you were okay without words.

“I’m ready,” you said, and she nodded.

It had been nearly two years since you had been on the Resistance base, and yet, every memory hit you full force the moment the overhead door opened. The few spacecraft, the uniforms, the droids, even the smell reminded you of the five happy years you spent here, specifically whom you spent it with. You saw Poe everywhere, although he seemed to be the only one absent from your welcome.

A crowd of people had gathered at the foot of your ship, General Organa waiting at the front. You took one last breath and switched from Y/N to Bhavisama.

“Queen Bhavisama,” she said, taking your hands in hers, “It's wonderful to have you back on D’Qar.”

“Thank you, General. It's good to be back.” She smiled and looped your arm under hers as she led you across the landing pad. You couldn’t help but look around, aware that you were searching for one person in particular.

“How are you?” she asked, pulling your eyes to hers. Her question was congenial, professional, but you knew her underlying meaning.

“Things are well with my people,” you replied, making her smile knowingly. Leia grew up in politics, so she knew how to answers a question one wants to avoid.

“I'm happy to hear. The Naboo are truly our oldest and dearest friends.”

“Thank you for your kind words, General. We are always willing to lend a hand to you, and not just because you’re Naboo.” Leia gave you a kind smile and extended her hand towards the base.

“Please, come inside, we have much to discuss.”

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

Poe stopped dead in his tracks. Leia asked Black Squadron to come down to the landing pad, claiming that she had a surprise for them, but if this was the surprise, he seriously underestimated her sense of humor. As he stopped, he knocked into Karé’s chest.

“You alright, Poe?” she asked, shoving him off gently.

“Hey, she’s my wife, Dameron. If you’ve—” Snap didn’t finish his thought as he saw what had made Poe come to halt. Across the way, you were walking arm and arm with Leia, getting reintroduced to Admiral Ackbar and Admiral Statura. “I— Did you know?”

“No,” he said weakly.

You looked different. You were still beautiful, Poe wasn't surprised by that, but something had changed in the way you carried yourself. You were somehow stiffer, more reserved. You wore a heavier looking dress than you had in the past, but you weren’t caked in the heavy makeup that you had worn at your coronation.

He wanted to go see you, but he knew he had no control over his emotions right now, and if he did speak to you, it would end in disaster. Snap put a firm hand on his shoulder, and soon, Suralinda, Jessika, and Karé followed his lead, letting him know silently that they were there for him. “I can’t see her.”

“Poe, Leia asked you to come down,” Sura began.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t an order. And until it is . . .” he stopped, looking to Snap for advice.

“I’ll make up an excuse for you,” he responded, making Poe sigh in relief.

“Thank you.” He looked over at you once more before turning back to his quarters. Black Squadron gave him a parting look but felt that going with him would only make Leia more annoyed than if just her star pilot missing.

“I’ll let you know how it goes.” Poe nodded his thanks once more before picking up his pace in case anyone decided to turn to their small group and see the Resistance’s most daring pilot running away.

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

After getting reacquainted with some of the commanding officers of the Resistance and introduced to the a few of the newer ones, Leia led you into a conference room. She motioned for you to take a seat at the head of the Holo table , as she sat down on your right.

“It really is good to see you again, Y/N,” Leia said quietly, now that you were in more seclusion.

“You too,” you said, smiling genuinely.

The door opened on the other side of the room and instantly you recognized all of their faces. You tried to steady yourself for when you would see him again, but after Karé, no one else entered the room. A horrible thought that he hated you flashed in your mind, but you quickly pushed it away as Leia introduced the group.

“Queen Bhavisama, I believe you know the members of Black Squadron: Captain Snap Wexley, Pilots Jessika Pava, Karé Kun, and Suralinda Javos.” You smiled at each one of them, even though you were unsure why Suralinda was here instead of L’ulo L’ampar.

“Yes, of course. Please sit.” They cloistered around you, Snap sitting on your left, thankfully. Even though they smiled back at you, you knew each of them were pissed off about how things ended with you and Poe. Snap would be the nicest if they decided to take that anger out on you right now.

“Thank you all for being here,” Leia said, a definitive edge in her voice. “Where is Commander Dameron?” In a minuscule reaction that only Nové would have noticed, your back stiffed slightly at his name.

“He ran into a little trouble with BB-8 and Pava’s new droid,” Snap answered. By the look that the three pilots gave each other, you could tell this was an outright lie. Most likely Leia could tell, too, but she didn’t say anything.

“Well, we’ll just have to continue without him. Your Highness,” she said, looking at you, “To put it bluntly, we are running on fumes here. Our suppliers in the Outer Rim have started to deteriorate as the First Order gets word of them. Black Squadron are the only ones with ships, and every last contact we have is slowly slipping away.”

“I thought things were going better since you started spreading the news of who you are and what you do,” you said, looking up at Suralinda. Although you were surprised to see her in L’ulo’s place, you weren’t surprised to see Suralinda on the base. You had read her recent articles, revealing the atrocities that the First Order had recently committed.

“Thanks to Suralinda, our public perception has improved, but there are still not enough people out there who believe in our cause.”

“People believe in you all over the galaxy,” you countered.

“Maybe so,” Leia said with a soft smile, “But they don’t believe that the First Order is as dangerous as they are.” You nodded and pursed your lips in thought.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well, I’ve already been in contact with Osira to keep her ear to the ground in the Senate, but until your mother comes up with an inlet to get our motion on the floor again, we need supplies. We need fuel and troops and intel and—"

“You need a rebellion,” you interrupted. She smiled slightly, nodding her head.

“I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“I have and always will support what you do here, General, but it’s not up to what I want anymore. It hasn’t been for a while,” you added bitterly, “I have to weigh all of this against what is best for my people.”

“I know, but you are our last resort. We have many plans to take down the First Order, but we can’t do them without getting our ships off the ground.” You looked back at your handmaidens, stationed at the entrance of the room, your eyes connecting with Nové’s for a moment.

“I will do anything I can, but I’ll have to discuss it over with my council first.”

“Of course,” Leia said, somewhat discouraged.

“I can personally get you some fuel and credits, but anything else will be a larger discussion.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Snap said, bringing your attention to the other side of the table. You nodded at him, hoping to plead in your eyes how sorry you felt about everything that happened. He nodded at you once, frowning just slightly.

“When is the next time you’ll need to leave base, Captain?” you asked.

“Ideally as soon as possible. Black Squadron has multiple ongoing missions, but we’re expected to meet a few smugglers with supplies in three days .”

“Nové,” you said, watching Jessika pick her head up for the first time and look at your handmaiden. She came to your side and you saw her look over at Jessika, too. “Open up a commlink with Broden. We’ll discuss this further with him.”

“Yes, my lady,” she said, excusing herself. Leia looked worried for a moment, but you waved your hand briefly to wash it away.

“Nothing will get out until you want it to. You can trust me, General.”

“I know. I always have.” She stood up, and you all followed. Leia smiled and patted your shoulder gently. “I have a few things to check on, particularly a few malfunctioning droids,” she said, looking at Snap who didn’t break her gaze, “But I would be honored if you joined me for dinner tonight.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I know you’re eager to get back to Naboo, so I won’t keep you for too long, but your presence on the base has already re-sparked the light we were beginning to lose, and I’d like to hold onto it as long as possible.”

“Thank you, General,” you said sincerely.

“Threepio?” she called. The door slid open on the other side of the room and the protocol droid came hobbling in.

“Ah! Mrs. Dameron, oh, I mean, Queen Bhavisama, it is wonderful to have you back with the Resistance again.” One of the makeup tricks Loré had learned prevented any blush from appearing on your face, and you were grateful for it at this moment.

“Thank you, Threepio.”

“Did you give Bhavisama’s droid the coordinates to her room and adjoining situation room?”

“Yes, O9-I2 has all the needed schematics of the base.”

“I know you must speak with your council,” Leia said, looking back at you, “ But if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, General.” You let your handmaidens lead you to the exit, just as Leia began to address the rest of the group.

“Black Squadron, stick around for a debrief? You’ll have to pass it along to your fearless Commander.”

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

“You’ve never disobeyed me before, Dameron,” Leia said as she stood in the doorway of Poe’s quarters, making him jump and nearly fall out of bed. BB-8 wowed in response, beeping something about how he deserved it. “I don’t think I’m a fan of it.”

“I’m sorry, General, I just had, um . . .”

“Some droid problems I hear,” Leia said, raising an eyebrow. Poe only nodded his head, hoping she would drop this conversation. “You can’t run forever.”

“I’m not running.”

“Well, you can’t avoid Y/N forever,” she said as she sat down next to him. Poe frowned at her, making her sigh. “Since you only want to follow my orders, here’s one: you and the rest of Black Squadron are to join me, a few of the senior commanders, and Queen Bhavisama,” she said, making him cringe at the use of your new formal name, “For dinner. No more hiding.”

“Yes, General.”

“Relax, Dameron,” she said, walking towards the door, “She was just as nervous to see you as you are her.”

“Doesn’t make me feel much better.”

“You’re one of the bravest men I know, Poe, and the most daring of my pilots. You can face a slew of First Order pilots, but not someone you love?”

“Leia—"

“You can do it. And don’t worry, you’ll have someone there who knows exactly how you’re feeling.” Poe sighed and nodded his head reluctantly.

“I’ll be there.”

“I know. Wear something nice, we are in the presence of royalty, after all.” This managed to get a laugh out of Poe, which apparently satisfied Leia as she left him alone. Once the door shut, he fell back on his bed. He hated being in this room. In this bed. This was supposed to be your shared quarters; he shouldn’t be here alone.

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

Walking into your temporary quarters, you could see that they were three times the size of the room you stayed in when you were simply a piece of the resistance. This was the room for dignitaries and heroes that came to see just what the legendary Leia Organa was up to; this wasn’t a place for you.

“My lady?” Loré asked as you stood outside the door for too long.

“Can you make sure Nové reaches the council? I’ll be fine on my own for a minute,” you said as she started to argue. “Don’t worry, Zaisa will be right outside my door.”

“Yes, I will,” Zaisa said, already stationing herself at the door. Loré nodded hesitantly and made her way with O9-I2 down the hall. You steeled your emotions and made your way into the room.

You shouldn’t be here alone. You shouldn’t even be in this room. You were supposed to just be Y/N Dameron. You weren’t supposed to be Queen Bhavisama who had to mask all of her emotions behind elaborate dresses and political jargon. With a heavy sigh, you let all your emotions wash over you as you crumple on to the bed, too upset to worry if anyone could hear you or come in.

A stupid belief system, you realized, as Zaisa cleared her throat a few minutes later. You shot up and looked at her, quickly wiping at the tears that were threatening to leave stains on your cheeks.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked sweetly. You smiled gently and shook your head. “Well, There’s a woman at the door. A Jessika Pava.” You took in a deep breath. “I can tell her to leave—”

“No, it’s okay. Send her in.”

“Do you want me to stick around?”

“I can handle Jessika,” you said with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“I’ll be right outside.” You walked towards your mirror and quickly dabbed at your cheeks with fresh makeup to hide the tear tracks that had started to form, just as Jessika walked in

“Fancy digs,��� she said unappreciatively.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you said, turning to look back at her. She forced a smile on her face, looking amused and annoyed at the same time.

“What, were you expecting more of a welcome party?”

“I’ve learned never to expect anything from you,” you said, standing up, “You’re too much of a wild card.”

“Well, I’m glad you remember that,” she said, smiling as she sat down across from you

“I could never forget you, Jessika,” you said with a smile. “Nové talks about you too much for me to forget.”

“Does she?” she asked, smiling genuinely.

“Of course. It’s impossible for us to act like we were never here,” you said with a sigh. Jess smiled sadly at you.

“We’ve all missed you, Y/N.”

“I’ve missed you all, too.” It was nice to hear your true name, not the regal name you took on when you were elected.

“I’m sorry he didn’t come down,” she said. You shook your head.

“I don’t blame him. I don’t think I would want to see me either if I were him.”

“It’s not that. He does want to see you, it’s just—"

“Nothing has changed,” you finished. She nodded. “What brings you by, Jess? If you were looking for Nové, she’s off contacting my council.”

“I meant it when I said I missed you,” she said, chewing her lip, “But you’re right, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding your permission.

“Suralinda joined us a few months ago, right around the time we lost L’ulo.”

“L’ulo’s dead?” you asked in shock.

“Yeah,” she said, frowning.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. But we’ve got Sura now and she’s not a terrible replacement. She’s also not a terrible journalist,” she added quietly.

“What are you trying to say, Jessika?” you asked, quickly switching back to Bhavisama.

“She has it on good word that Naboo and Serenno will soon be joining.”

“A rumor,” you said, keeping your face blank, “For the time being. There’s not much I can discuss, and much less that I’d like to. I don’t want what you’ve heard to become true, but I’m not sure I have a choice.” Jessika nodded and stood up reluctantly.

“We haven’t told him.”

“Thank you, but he’s strong enough to handle it.”

“He’s the strongest person I know,” she said proudly, “ And I’m not so sure he could. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yes,” you said, not looking up, the weight of her words too much.

“My lady, I got the connection— Jess.” You looked to the door to find Nové and Loré walking into the room.

“Hey, Supernova,” Jessika said, smiling at her. Loré looked confused and a little bit jealous as she turned her attention to you.

“They’re waiting for you, my lady.”

“I’ll be right there. Jessika?”

“I’ll see you at dinner.” She gave one more glance to Nové before walking out the door.

“What was that look all about?” Loré asked as the three of you walked to the situation room.

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

“Of course I’m nervous, buddy,” Poe said as he slipped his jacket on and checked his curls in the mirror for the seventh time. “I haven’t seen Y/N in two years.” BB-8 commented on how much time he was putting into his outfit, making Poe roll his eyes. “I’m not trying to impress her. Or make her miss me,” he added after BB-8 called him out again. “Can’t a guy just look good when he goes to see his ex-wife?”

“Mine always did.” Poe spun around and saw Leia in his doorway again.

“Everything okay?”

“Something’s come up. You can’t come to dinner.”

“Why not?”

“Lor San Tekka finally reached out to me. I need you to go to him before the First Order finds out he has the map.” BB-8 rolled into action, coming right up to Poe’s boots.

“We’ll leave right away.”

“Thank you. And Poe?” she called as he started to gather his blaster and flying gear, “You will have to face her one day soon.”

“I know.”

“Good luck. And may the Force be with you.” He nodded and followed her out of the room, making his way down to his X-Wing. He had BB-8 send a message to the rest of Black Squadron, informing them where he was going. Just after he slipped on his jumpsuit and crossed the hangar, something pulled his attention.

Across the way, Poe could see Nové talking to you in great detail. You were clearly lost in thought, but whatever drew his eyes to you, brought yours to him. For the first time in two years, your eyes connected. Five years of dates, kisses, fighting, everything, came back to him in a jumble of emotions. He nodded to you just as you stepped back inside, and he climbed up onto his X-Wing.

[thepickpocketofdreams]

Tails Never Fails - Chapter Six

“I know you’re there, Kagami.”

Adrien’s voice came out muffled from where his face was pressed to his knees. This was his usual hiding place, a forgotten service corridor on the third floor that only he and Kagami knew about.

Not that he was hiding. This was just his hiding place.

“I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight,” said Kagami, emerging from the shadows. “But I was trying to give you some space.”

“It’s okay.” Adrien scrubbed a hand across his face, letting his mask dangle loosely between his fingers. “I’m just tired.”

Beside him, Kagami folded herself gracefully to the floor. “You seem a little more than tired, Adrien.”

“Do I now?” he said with a humourless laugh.

“You do. Want to talk about it?” said Kagami. He looked sideways at her, expecting her usual shrewd expression, and he wasn’t disappointed. There was something like sympathy in her eyes, but it was hidden under layers of sarcasm and the desire to tell him to get his shit together.

Kagami raised her eyebrows in encouragement.

“I just…I can’t believe Felix would do something like that,” Adrien admitted. “This night has been planned for years, and he’s acting like an entitled rat. I mean, I don’t mind him scaring off the girls who just want the title – that’s why we came up with this whole plan in the first place! But, I think…” he tailed off, picking at the carpet.

“You think he’s scaring off the only girl you’ve ever felt this way about.”

Way to put it lightly, Kagami.

But she was right. And, as Adrien looked her in the eye, he knew that she knew she was right.

“You –”

“Are right. I know.” Kagami’s voice had taken on a mocking edge, one that Adrien wasn’t sure he appreciated, but her eyes were bright with interest. “So, Multimouse, hmm?”

“Are we really having this conversation?”

In response, Kagami leaned back against the wall and gave him a shit-eating grin.

“I…” Adrien sighed. “I like her. She’s sweet, she’s funny, and I know that both of those things are cliché, but I – there are no words to describe her, unless I wax poetic for three hours on end.”

Unbidden, Multimouse’s smile arose in his mind, and Adrien couldn’t help but smile back.

“She’s the only person this evening I’ve been able to talk to, just as easily as with yourself or Nino. Even if she were to refuse anything romantic, I’d still want her friendship.”

“Friendship is the best foundation for romance,” Kagami pointed out. “But I agree. You two seemed to hit it off perfectly.”

“But…” Adrien chewed his thumbnail. “Felix.”

“Felix is an ass, and I will give him a piece of my mind in the morning.” Behind the careful control of her voice, Adrien heard Kagami’s threat against his cousin, and, in a rare moment of affection, he leaned his head against her shoulder.

“What would I do without you?” he mumbled.

“Even more stupid things than already.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “Go for a walk, then go back to her. If you’re as serious as I think you are about this, you should tell her the truth.”

The truth.

I’m the Prince.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

~~

Out on the balcony, Marinette took a shaky breath and gazed up at the moon. A chill rippled through the air, but she hardly felt it.

I just walked away from the Prince. How could I do that? All evening I’ve been wanting to talk to him, and I finally got to and sure he was being a little off but he was probably just tired and cranky, right? It must get tiring, dancing with person after person, and I was probably just talking too much –

“Hey there.” A voice beside her said, and Marinette let out a squeak rather befitting of her costume. She snapped her head sideways to see a man dressed in blue scales, perched expertly on the balcony.

“How –”

“You were preoccupied,” he smiled. As he spoke, she realised that his hands were moving constantly across a lyre harp, playing a soothing melody. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nono, please – I should have noticed you,” Marinette said, hastily dropping into a curtsey – until he put out a hand to stop her.

“No need for formalities out here,” he said, hopping down to lean against the railing with her. “I just thought you could use someone to talk to.”

“I – you did?”

He – Blue, Marinette decided to call him – shrugged. “I saw you leave the ballroom. It looked as though the Prince upset you?”

It was an invitation to talk. Under normal circumstances, Marinette would have just declined and gone to Alya but – Alya wasn’t anywhere to be found. Neither was Nino. None of the people she wanted to see, none of her friends, were out here.

Marinette looked up at the stranger, who gave her a soft smile in response. Behind his mask, his eyes were kind.

“All I wanted was to dance with the Prince,” she said hesitantly. At his nod of encouragement, she continued, “and I thought it would be perfect. All I’ve heard, for years and years, was how kind he is, how wonderful he is, but tonight he was, well…”

Marinette made a useless gesture with her hands.

Blue hummed in response. “It’s difficult to meet someone and realise they’re a totally different person.”

“Yes!” Marinette threw up her hands. “He seemed completely different to what I was expecting, and maybe I’m just surprised, but it hurts to have spent so long imagining this particular moment, only for it to go so wrong.”

He hummed again. “You seemed really happy talking to that Cat guy.”

The change in tack caught her by surprise.

“Chat Noir?”

“Weren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow. Or at least, that was the impression she got from behind the mask.

Was she? “I mean…Yeah, I guess I was. I mean, Chat was easy to talk to,” – not to mention charming, and dashing, and witty – “but he wasn’t…you know…”

“He wasn’t the Prince.” Blue finished for her. Guilt settled in the pit of Marinette’s stomach as she watched his fingers dance across the lyre strings.

“It’s not that I even want the Prince. I just wanted to talk to Adrien, you know? Sure, Chat Noir is nice, but he’s not – he’s not Adrien.”

“Things aren’t always as they appear,” mused the guy, tilting his head back to regard the moon as she had earlier. “Perhaps you should give him another chance.”

“Another chance?”

“Sure. One conversation doesn’t tell you everything about a person. Maybe you’ll find out something new about him.”

He had a point. They’d only spoken briefly earlier, before Marinette had run out of the ballroom, after all.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she said aloud. Without warning, there came a crashing symphony from the ballroom, bellowing out of the doors onto the balcony. One of the final dances, then.

“That’s my cue,” said the stranger with a wink. “I promised my sister a dance.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Best of luck, Marinette.”

It was only as she watched him vanish back into the ballroom, that she realised he’d used her name.

~~

Meanwhile, in one of the many royal broom cupboards, Alya and Nino were in the process of deciding if it was ~ahem~ time to re-join the party.

“We could just stay here,” Nino proposed, gently kissing the side of Alya’s neck.

“We really can’t.”

“We could. They won’t notice.”

“I can’t leave Marinette alone all night. Besides, Kagami has definitely already noticed.”

“Point being?”

“Death by Kagami.”

“You got me. Let’s go.”

In the dim lighting, they retrieved various items of clothing that had become strewn about, and hurriedly got dressed. As Alya reached up to tie her mask back on, Nino zipped her dress back up, and they shared a smile.

It was almost as if they’d performed this exact routine, many, many, times before.

“Okay, let me check whether the coast is clear –” Nino cracked the door open the tiniest amount. When no one shouted at the moving door, he pushed it a little further and stuck his head out.

The hallway was deserted.

“We’re good – wait, why are you laughing?” he asked, clocking Alya’s shaking shoulders.

“You looked just like a little tortoise sticking its head out of a shell,” she giggled.

“Oh haha, very funny. Come on.”

The pair exited the cupboard, taking a second to ensure that they were both presentable once in the well-lit hallway, before Nino made a grand show of offering Alya his arm.

“My lady.”

“My lord,” she curtsied back and took his arm with a smile that, in Nino’s opinion, outshone even the fanciest chandelier in the ballroom.

The pair made their way back to the ballroom – not without some longing glances at cupboards along the way – without incident, and had set their sights on the grand doors when –

“Waitwaitwait,” Alya said, screeching to a halt. “Look!”

He followed her quivering finger to see a pair of figures on the balcony. One was dressed in blue, leaning back against the railing, giving off an aura of total calmness.

The other was a grey bundle of nervous energy.

“Whoa, is that – ”

“Marinette found a guy.”

Nino and Alya looked at each other, stunned, then back at the pair.

“Wasn’t she dancing with – ”

“When we left? Yeah. Wonder how she found this guy.”

As they watched, Marinette threw her arms up in the air, and the guy leaned closer to her. Despite the distance, it was clear that he was smiling. And so was she. After a few more exchanges, the guy took Marinette’s hand and kissed it.

“Oh, she is definitely blushing,” Alya said, squinting to get a better look. Her eyes widened. “He’s coming our way! Hide –”

They skirted round a corner, looking over their shoulders to make sure the guy hadn’t seen them and –

“And where have you two been?”

“Ah, crap.”

Stood in the hallway was Kagami. Arms folded, with a look on her face that could probably set something on fire.

That somethingwas looking a lot like Nino-and-Alya.

“We can explain –”

“You were in a broom cupboard.”

“You got us.”

“Look, Kagami –” Nino was about to give the best explanation – read: bullshit – of his life, when Kagami’s face changed. She held up a finger to him, and a second later, a shadow indicated that someone had walked round the corner behind them.

“Evening,” said Kagami with a nod. “Are you lost?”

“Apparently so. I was just getting some air and I seem to have taken a wrong turn,” replied a male voice. Nino glanced at the figure and did a double-take.

Marinette’s dude!

“Ballroom is that way,” Kagami said, pointing back the way he’d just come with a polite smile.

“Ah, thank you.” As the guy turned back round, he winked at Nino and Alya, before following Kagami’s directions.

Why is he winking at me!? Why is he winking at Alya!? Why –

“Do you know him?” asked Kagami, interrupting Nino’s internal crisis. He and Alya shook their heads.

“We just saw him with our friend. Wait – do you not know him?” Alya said.

When Kagami shook her head no, Nino and Alya exchanged a glance. She knew everyone. Every guest. On every list. Nino had walked in on her studying them on more than one occasion (and had a knife thrown at him at least two of those times).

No one could get past Kagami.

“But he was with Marinette –” Nino began.

“Did she know him?” asked Alya.

“Nah, she can’t have. But how’d he get in?”

“No idea.”

There were a couple of seconds as they considered, then –

“You definitely don’t know him?” they asked Kagami in perfect sync. At her exasperated head shake, Nino held his arm out to Alya once again.

“We need to find out more on this dude. Later, Kagami!”

And the pair ran off, unknowingly leaving Kagami with two questions.

1) Who was the mysterious man in blue?

2) And who was Marinette?

~~

After Blue left, Marinette took a few minutes to compose herself. The chill in the air felt as though it had receded since their conversation, and she breathed deeply. Moonlight fell upon the lake across from her, and it danced with the barely-there ripples of a non-existent breeze.

She stiffened, hearing footsteps behind her on the balcony.

“Multimouse.”

The voice was familiar.

“I’m sorry.”

Give him a second chance, Blue had said.

So Marinette turned, plastering on a smile, and took the Prince’s arm.

[best-enemies]

I have to write an actual review on Gallifrey TW4 for the podcast I’m in but I have a writer’s block, so here are some of my thoughts on the box because I need to yell about it somewhere and my friends are pissed that I keep yelling on twitter. Spoilers ahead!

Don’t expect anything coherent to come out of this post I’m just going to throw stuff in this post and if you get it you get it lol. It’s not like I have fully recovered from the blow anyway... 

Deception is a great introdution to the box and probably one of the best Gallifrey audios. I hate it when the OT4 gets separated (and that it happens all the time!), and in this case it happens between Narvin and Leela. However, it’s always great to see Leela working on her own and interacting with other people. When she tried to save those people from the resistance, the way she dealt with the situation even when she felt lost because she couldn’t trust her senses - a tool Leela values a lot as a warrior and a hunter - was absolutely incredible and it reminded me (not that I could ever forget that) of how much I love and admire her. 

Listening to them being inside the distortion field felt like a really bad trip 

All I could think throughout the box and not just Deception is that Leela had a crush on Eris and man I can’t blame her at all not only he was a great guy he’s really good looking and I got a crush on him too akshdashdkjaks

I don’t think I say this enough, but I really like Livia. She’s not evil, she just makes a lot of bad choices and she has this problem of being too much on the fence, which is not the characteristic of a true leader. She was never one. But still, even if I don’t remember the content of the earlier audios she’s in I’ve always liked her. And I liked that she finally chose a side in the end. I mean, she did when she helped the resistance, and that was a good beginning.

 Also can I interest you with my headcanon that she was Romana’s girlfriend at the Academy and they broke up? Lol Anyways, when she heard that Romana had “died” she was shocked and later on complimented her as a person and I kind of wish we saw more of them on good terms

Now, on Dissolution: I love Narvin. That’s pretty much it lol. Before starting Gallifrey my friend gave me a spoiler which was basically, “you’re gonna love Narvin”. Well, at first I really liked his voice - it was funny and cute and voices are an important thing to me. Of course, even if he seemed funny to me, unfortunately he was a total xenophobic asshole. He had convictions, he had layers which made him very interesting, but still, an asshole. Which makes me really proud to see how far he has come, how much he’s grown. When he joined Romana’s side I soon realized that my friend was right; Narvin had one of the best redemption arcs I’ve ever seen. He went from Romana’s political rival, if I could put it that way, to one of her most trusted allies and best friends. And he found out that he could still fight for and protect his home, but using the right tools, doing it the right way. Dissolution showed that contrast between the old Narvin and what he wanted and the new Narvin, and honestly? I could almost call this episode a moment of relief amongst the chaos. Narvin has become one of my favorite characters in the Whoniverse and one of my all time favorites as well.

Alright... now we get to Beyond *deep breaths*. So let’s start from the beginning, shall we? I spent months since listening to Unity living in a total hell not knowing if Romana was alive or not. I couldn’t believe that that was her ending, that she wouldn’t show up again for their last hurrah, and that my favorite companion ever was gone forever. But then, BF announced the cover, and the description for the episodes, and her name came up, and I could finally breath. My friend and I started theorizing that maybe Braxiatel had dematerialized the TARDIS around her and saved her in the last second - which is kind of what happened, I mean, the description said he wasn’t ready to give up on her! So they go to that place called Beyond, and shit happens. Those ravenous bitches were there eating people and shit. They even ate Narvin - I almost started crying in the middle of the bus, telling myself he wasn’t our Narvin, but he was a Narvin and it still hurt. I wanted to fight those ravenous myself. And not just that, Romana went through hell watching Leela die in front of her, and her reaction was really heartbreaking. 

Aaand that kind of brings me to a point here, something that bothered me. Romana and Brax, as always, spent the audio bickering a little, but they had their moments as well. Like when Brax says that it’s good to see her smile again, when he says (sorry I don’t remember it word by word) something like, she couldn’t die and that she’s supposed to be the best of the Time Lords, when she calls him her friend, and when she asks with a soft voice if he’s coming back to Gallifrey. And it was sweet. Like, they have a lot of issues, but they also have good feelings towards each other. Despite everything they care about each other, and it shows. Which is why I got really confused about Romana’s reaction when Brax was eaten by the ravenous. I remember I even thought she wasn’t around when it happened, that he had left and was somewhere else (I have a little difficulty paying attention), but then my friend said she was. So I was like... wait, she saw her friend, whom she’s known for most of her life (and more than she can even remember) die in a truly horrible way and didn’t even react to that? I’m not blaming Romana, I think this is really out of character for her. She may have difficulty expressing her feelings but she would never, ever react so coldly to the death of a friend. 

Now, on Brax’s death... I was really devastated. At first, as always I got confused and thought the older Brax was an older version of him, somehow. Even if he died, I was like, this is confusing, but it’s Brax? So I was weary, but still, I thought “well at least he’s safe now, on another universe in the Beyond”. But then my friend said “no, that’s an alternative Brax, the one we know is dead”. And that’s when I felt my stomach drop. IT HURT SO BAD. I’ll be honest and say I don’t know everything about Brax, or about the depth of his character, I’m still very early on the Benny audios and only have listened to him on Gally and a few audios here and there. People who have more knowledge on him say that the way he was written wasn’t really accurate, and that can be true, but I won’t get into that because I don’t know for myself. Still, Brax is one of the best and most interesting characters I’ve ever known. I loved him from the beginning. I got mad at him so many times during the series, felt as betrayed as Romana did, heard about a lot of dark shit he’s done, but still I could never hate him. I got a little bit too attached to him, which is why his death felt absurd and unnecessarily cruel. I don’t think for a moment that Brax deserved that, as I said I don’t know everything about him but something in my heart tells me that things could’ve gone another way. I knew he could die in the finale but not like this. And it’s a bit hard to put into words how much I hate the ending he got and how much I’ll miss him. I just hope he comes back, I mean, he always does, BF writers need to figure something out I don’t even care lol

I had to edit the post because my dumb ass forgot about one of my favorite and at the same time one of the most bittersweet moments of Beyond: Brax asking about the Doctor and saying leaving Gallifrey was a “family thing”. I love them and there isn’t enough stuff out there from the Lungbarrow siblings for me. He talks so fondly of the Doctor and now all I think about is that he never mentioned him in the series but thought of him on the last hours of his life... brb I’m gonna go cry in the bathroom

Oh god. Okay, Homecoming. I’ll start on a light note and say some stuff about Hot Rassilon: Richard Armitage nailed it. I’ve always liked him as an actor and I got thrilled when he was announced. His voice is like, the one I want to hear when I get my name called up in Heaven - or Hell, which is where I’m going - and his speeches were really powerful. Still, I wish they could’ve given him more to do. Of course, I understand that this is where they wanted to go with him - Hot Rassilon going batshit crazy and calling himself a god and coming up with some stupid fanfiction about the Time Lords becoming gods of everything, yada yada. I loved his interactions with the Dalek Emperor, the first thing I thought (besides the fact that it was really funny) was that it showed two despots with a god complex playing chess with the universe and discarding their people as garbage, fighting for their own personal power and not for the collective. Of course, I don’t expect the Daleks to care about each other - they want to spread throughout the galaxies and gain absolute power, not bring social well-being to their own. But that should apply to the Time Lord Society, and we see that Hot Rassilon doens’t give a flying fuck about that. 

I feel like I should reinforce the fact that I actually hate Rassilon. I call him hot but I hate him. I can do both

Once again, I need to point out the emotional moments between the galligang. It all felt so off. As someone pointed out here (sorry, I saw the post but don’t recall who said it now): it’s a war and there’s little time for grief, however, it’s not like they’re just grieving the loss of a group of people they’re not familiar with. The galligang are the closest thing they have to a family with each other. They’ve been through all sorts of things together, created a deep bond and have crossed the universe to find each other. And then, that Dalek ship blows up, with Narvin still in it, and... nothing. Leela even asked Romana if they could’ve done something and she says if the bracelet thingy had been working he would’ve come back already. And that’s it. At first I didn’t even understand, I was like “wait, he was really still inside the ship? And it blew up?”, because once again, I couldn’t tell from the way they reacted, I was only sure when they had that exchange. And of course, I started sobbing, because my favorite character was dead. I guess the writers wanted to focus on the war and political aspects and shit but did they forget that Gallifrey was about these three specific people and that their relationship was the core of the series, not just the politics? 

Okay, moving on. Leela and Romana once again end up on Gallifrey and run into Hot Rassilon. Did I mention I found him a bit scary? Well, I did mark me down as scared & horny.

Aaaaaand he decides to lock Romana up in a pocket universe. It surprised me, because I thought he would execute her. I find that he wanted to do that because Romana was the president who wanted to take Gallifrey into the future, to make it a prosperous and advanced society who left all their fears of the unknown and prejudices behind. And now he locked her up in the past. Get it? I don’t know, maybe that’s just me, but this was the first thing I thought. But I cannot even begin to tell you all how RELIEVED I am that she’s alive, and that there could be a possibility - even if a very tiny one - that she could escape. It’s Doctor Who, so everything is possible. EDIT: Now I’m sad because Leela will die after the end of the Time War and Romana will know about that, and all her friends are gone, and she believes the Doctor isn’t the man she once knew so she can’t rely on him, and she’s alone, and I’m FUMING because I’m still processing the whole thing and I hadn’t realized that. She’s totally alone and now I’m crying once again. I HATE IT HERE

As for Leela, I want to see what’s next for her. I haven’t gotten into the other Time War stuff yet, this is my first introduction to the actual thing, but I heard that she’s gonna fight alongside the War Doctor and might be on the War Doctor Begins boxset. But man listening to her and Romana having to depart like that broke my heart. And now I know that she’ll be protecting Gallifrey because of Romana, because Romana represents the best in Gallifrey.

*Phew* okay, that was a lot. I don’t even know if I covered everything, but I managed to make more sense than I thought I would at the beginning of this post. I don’t know man I’ve been crying for hours, went to sleep at 2am crying because of Narvin and Brax and woke up at 7am and my first thought was them, dying again... I don’t even know anymore, I guess I’ll either focus on uni and my job or curl up into a ball and cry for the rest of my life lolololol

Now I want to write a post with my theories on how the entire galligang is alive and in the epilogue in my head they have reunited and are all living together happily. Maybe it’ll be my next post.