#gwen loos

[forcedfemme-me]

Gwen Loos by Txeme Yeste for Virgine Mag - ALAIA

[joskriverdaily]

Josephine Skriver | Backstage 3.1 Phillip Lim, Fall/Winter 2011.

[verstappen-cult]

# THE BOYS MEETING YOUR PARENTS

INTRODUCING THE BOYS. lando norris. charles leclerc. oscar piastri. max verstappen. alex albon. daniel ricciardo. mick schumacher. logan sargeant.

Gwen’s radio message. . . 💬. you don’t know how much i missed doing these f1 grid headcanons! thanks to the anon who sent the request in the first place. i use a few different prompts for this, if you wanna check them out: one, two and three. <333

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

You’re waiting for your parents at the restaurant, Lando by your side looking like he’s about to meet his death. You notice that his leg is jumping anxiously beneath the table. In another situation you’d make fun of him but not this time, so you grab his hand and squeeze slightly, pulling him out of his head. You reassure him that everything will be okay, that “you’re going to be fine. They will love you just like I love you.” and Lando tries to smile, he really tries but he’s nervous. He’s meeting your parents, the most important people in your life, and he wants to make a good impression. You make small talk, trying to give him a few tips, what he can say to your father or how to compliment your mother’s dress. In the end, he didn’t have any reason to worry. Because after the initial greeting Lando is already in a deep conversation with your father about cars while your mother looks softly between you two. They leave with the promise of having dinner at their house next week. Lando can’t stop ranting about how interesting your father is and “do you think they would like to go to the next race? I can arrange that immediately. I’m sure your dad would love it.”

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

Charles is about to have a panic attack or at least that’s what you think as you watch him pace around the living room. “You don’t understand. Like I need them to love me because you love them, and if they don’t love me I’ll just, I don’t know, kill myself.” And you can’t help but laugh because you’ve never seen him that nervous, not even on your first date he acted like this. He is a complete gentleman when your parents arrive at your house. Your father hasn’t even parked yet but he’s already waiting at the door with the most bright smile you’ve ever seen. Your mother loves him immediately, but your dad makes things a little hard, teasing him and making him so flustered you think Charles will pass out from how embarrassed he is. However, your mother has your back because she teases him back, engaging in some playful banter. Your heart starts hammering in your chest when Charles leans in and whispers “that will be us one day.”

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

You were nervous when, in reality, you shouldn’t have been. Oscar was natural, he was the one reassuring you that everything was going to be fine while you tried very hard to make him turn around and go back home. He had to park somewhere halfway to your parent’s house to calm you. If his kisses had anything to do with you finally relaxing nobody doesn’t need to know that. But he was right, as always, because dinner went smoothly. You have finished eating, your parents are laughing at something Oscar has said and you feel like you couldn’t be more in love. You are wrong because when your mother stands up to clean the table, Oscar is up in a second telling her to “sit down, I’ll take care of that. Anyone want coffee?” and you fall a little more in love. Oscar disappears into the kitchen and you get up to help him when your mother grabs your hand and softly whispers “He’s a keeper.”

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

Max insisted on buying the most grand bouquet of flowers, the most expensive wine and taking the Ferrari once you revealed just how much your dad loves cars and, especially, Ferrari. You couldn’t laugh even though you found it funny and over the top, but no one has ever done something like that for you. It shows how important you are to him. Your parents love him immediately, your mother is more than happy when she sees her favorite flowers while your dad looks like a fish out of water, unable to close his mouth as he admires the Ferrari parked outside their house. Max makes the mistake of asking him if he would like to take a ride and they leave for thirty minutes. He makes conversation with your parents during dinner, they humiliate you a bit and bond over how spoiled you are. When it’s time to go, your mother hugs him so tightly and says “thank you for taking such good care of her.” 

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

You’re coming out of a store when you see your mother across the street and before you can turn around and pretend you didn’t see them, she’s calling your name. Alex is surprised and doesn’t know what to do, choosing to stay a few feet behind because “I’m not ready! I need to mentally prepare myself to meet her and I’m wearing fucking shorts and a shirt, I can’t meet her like this.” but your mother sees him and her face lights up. “Is this the young man you’ve been hiding from us?” and Alex can do nothing more than accept your mother’s hug and the kiss on the cheek. When you laugh he sends you a death glare and you know you’ll be hearing about it all the way home. She invites you to have dinner because “dad misses you and he will be so happy to meet Alex.” and you were gonna decline her offer, really. But Alex beats you and accepts instead, telling her that “we would love to! But come to our house, we will cook for you.” 

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

The first thing your mom says when she opens the door is “have you eaten? I made this delicious tiramisu, come on!” as she grabs Daniel’s arm and drags him to the kitchen, leaving you behind with your bags and the bottle of wine you insisted on buying. You don’t take too long closing the door and following them, but once you enter the kitchen Daniel is already sitting on a stool with a big plate of tiramisu in front of him. He sees you and smiles with his mouth full, and it would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so offended. Your mother washes the dishes and makes small talk with Daniel, asking him random things about himself to get to know him better and he’s more than happy to answer all of them. When ten minutes go by without your own mother acknowledging you, you decide to speak because “you’re not gonna ask if I want a plate too, mother? Your own daughter?” which she takes as a good opportunity to tell a story about your childhood and humiliate you in front of your boyfriend. 

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

You weren’t supposed to find them, that’s what Mick tells you when you ask him “baby, are these… flashcards?” surprised when you start reading them and is all the information you gave him about your family during the week. He is embarrassed and it takes a lot of convincing and kisses to make him look at you. “I want to be prepared, okay? I want to make a good impression and this is my way to achieve that.” And, well, he is right. Because when the day comes, Mick fits so well. He asks your little brother about university and gives him a few tips, he asks your mother about work and your dad about horses, he even sits down with your little sister to play with her dolls. Everyone loves him. If you have to listen to your family tell embarrassing stories about you, you will endure it if it means you’ll keep seeing Mick’s bright smile. 

★ — LOGAN SARGEANT (2)

Logan wants to run. Yes, it was his idea to invite your family to a baseball game but “I still can get out of here and you can tell them that I’m sick. Or you can tell them that you don’t want me to meet them and we can run away to the Maldives or som—” you cup his face and shut him up with a kiss before he can keep talking nonsense. “You need to breathe.” It takes a while but he regulates his breathing eventually and doesn’t feel like passing out anymore. Logan still thinks that is best if he doesn’t attend the game and is actually about to make his escape when your brother yells your name. Before you can join them at the entrance, you hold Logan’s hand and whisper how much you love him. Logan forgets all about his anxiety once you are inside the stadium and he has a beer on his hand. Your dad makes sure to make him feel welcomed, including him in his and your brother's conversation. When you are home that night, getting ready for bed, Logan tells you that “I’m going fishing with your dad tomorrow.” And honestly, what the hell?

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[targaryenluvs]

-WHATEVER IT TAKES

PART 1 PART 2

pairing - prowler!miles morales x reader, miles morales x reader

summary - you and miles make it back to your own universe and dodge the other members of the spider society as you make your way to miles’s home. little did you know someone managed to slip through the cracks, and was here to try to take you back, whatever it takes. does he?

warnings - possessive!prowler miles, he’s like low key delulu, swearing, violence, stalking, bad spanish/glish, not proofread

word count - 3.1k

notes - uhm hahahah i thought i’d leave it at part two and i go in and out of povs :) lack of consistency with names , this lowkey might not make sense at times since it was nighttime i wanted a cutesy easy ending so the solution might be super easy idc i wanted to make a part three :)

TAGLIST: @pifuyue @afternoon-evening @myspacewhore1comz @ashleebooksblog @sophiaj650 @colossaltitannnn @the-rogue-robin @zaddyskye69 @loonalockley (some not working)

you thought you’d collide with the ground straight away.

rain was pelting down as you slowly got up from being splayed across miles on the concrete roof. “i’m sorry for landing on you.” miles groaned as he rose, “nah your good babe.” you slowly stood on your feet and looked around, now this was your earth.

“c’mon we have to get you home. maybe you should change? we could borrow some clothes from somewhere and maybe find a pay phone? call your dad ask him to pick you up then we can explain everything. miguel is probably staking out your home, there’s probably a bunch of spider people here.” you rambled as miles got up too, “i don’t care if they see, we need to get home y/n.” he tried to straighten up, but you could see the pain in his face and his ripped suit.

“you need to take it easy miles. we can’t afford fighting more people, that other miles is nothing compared to miguel.” as you voiced your concerns you could see miles thinking, “alright, let’s just get home, i need to see my dad, we’re so close, we can save him. I’m not stopping now.”

the wind was cold as it nipped at your bare arms, the rain had died down but splattered across your body as well.

you invited it in.

nothing felt better than being home. to ground yourself (and to make sure you were in the right universe) your eyes scanned across your environment, your favourite restaurant tucked into the side of a gigantic, glass mcdonald’s, your favourite sandwiches at delmars, yours and miles’ favourite arcade, graffiti work à la mode miles. you were so grateful to be home, but you were terrified at the thought of not reaching mr morales in time.

the two of you landed on a roof nearby miles’ apartment as you surveyed the two of your surroundings, you both pointing out miguel and his counterparts. “will he still see us if we’re invisible?” you asked as miles nodded, “pretty sure he can see me, heightened senses and vision, probably. i just don’t wanna put us at risk.” you sighed, “how about a diversion? car alarms going off, maybe scare the living shit out of someone and the second he looks away we swoop in?” miles looked up at you as he sighed, “i can’t think, why can’t i think?”

you wrapped your hands around his wrists as he stared at you, as if you held all the answers. as he looked at you, he couldn’t help all the voices in his head.

“in every universe, y/n l/n falls for spider-man. and, in every universe it doesn’t end well.”

as miles looked at gwen he couldn’t help but smile, “i’m not like every other spider-man, i’m better.” he joked as she laughed. “and, in every universe i guess spider-man falls for her. i did. and it’s cause i love her that i won’t let it happen. i won’t let anything happen to the people i love.”

and as he looked at her, he felt, exposed.

but looking into her eyes had the gears turning in his head again, she gave him his spark. and he’d be damned if any other spider-man tried to take her from him. tried to take the ones he loved.

“i’ve got a plan.”

as miguel neared the edge of the roof looking over the scenes below his eyebrows furrowed together as he wondered (or aggressively pondered) where on earth miles was.

thank god y/n remembered the password to the service door of the building.

as the two ran up the stairs, their hearts were oh so close to bursting. miles was praying to every god that his dad was home. his patrol car was outside, so he had to be home, right?

as they burst through the door, they came face to face with mr and mrs morales and- gwen?

“there you two are! i was so close to calling your mother and telling her you’d ran away!” she screamed as she engulfed the two of you in a hug, mr morales following closely behind.

“i unground you and allow you and y/n/n to go after your friend and the two of you disappeared, no text, call nothing! do you know how irresponsible that is?” as she was about to continue her rant, jeff slightly elbowed her, alerting her to your guys’ huffing selves.

“i’m glad you’re okay. you can go talk to your little friend in your room but keep the door open! don’t need you three sneaking off, okay?” rio explained as you nodded profusely but not before miles launched himself at his parents, “i love you guys, so much.” the two parents smiled and returned the favour, “te quiero papa.”

as the three of you got into miles’ room you crawled along the ceiling till miles reached the curtains and drew them.

“you guys are okay thank god.” gwen spoke as she sat down on miles’ bed. “i realised you went to the wrong-”

“wrong universe.” you and miles finished her sentence in union. “it was crazy we got there and another version of miles was there, the one his spider was meant for. gwen, the entire world there, we’ll at least new york, it’s dangerous. they don’t have a spider-man and it’s ruined the city. they have no one to protect them and miles- he lost his father and his- me. and when he saw me he was crazy, he thought i was her, we barely got away.”

“he- i cant stop thinking about him. and if- if i never got bit, would i be him? would i have turned into him, i would have lost my dad and you.” he stuttered, the last part spoken toward you.

“hey, we’re home. i’m here, your dads right outside. we got here in time. spot is probably gonna be here soon, we can convince your parents to leave the city for a bit, make-up some fake excuse and get your dad to push back the captain thing. we defeat spot and then there’s no threat to your dad. we can grab peter, hobie- anyone that can help us beat him. then hopefully miguel will back off, we can try and fix the canon-”

“and how exactly are you going to defeat spot?” all three of you whipped around to the window as miguel crawled in. “what the fuck?” you shouted as rio and jeff ran in, “what the hell are you doing in here? what on earth are you? you are not spider-man and you need to get the hell out of here!” rio shouted as jeff grabbed his holster and pulled out his gun.

miguel raised his hands and tried to calm them down, “there’s no need for the gun-”

“no need!? you’re a six foot, leotard wearing spider-man copy in my sons room, if you know what’s good for you i suggest you leave buddy!” jeff shouted as miles rose to his feet, “dad! don’t-”

a loud crash from the living room caught everyone’s attention, allowing miguel to swiftly take the gun from jeff’s grip. “did you just disarm a police officer?” miguel scoffed, “and you threatened spider-man we’ve all done shocking things.” as he tried to move forwards you all shouted in scattered warnings.

“woah there!”

“you stay right there.”

“not another step from you!”

“don’t come any closer”

“stop moving!”

“is the suit not enough? the web i used to disarm you? i’m a spider-man either way so it’s a waste of time to try and corner me when there’s someone else in your living room.”

you all slowly shuffled out of there, everyone keeping track of miguel, but all of a sudden, he wasn’t the biggest threat.

a gaping dark mass in the middle of the room took the cake.

“he’s here.” miguel said as he began to inspect the whole. “whaddya think would happen if we just pushed him in?” gwen whispered, “don’t even think about it gwen.” miguel answered, shutting down all revenge fantasies.

“will someone please explain what on earth is going’ on here?” rio asked exasperated. “mom, dad. i have something to tell you.” (i’ve decided to spare you the agony of my shitty spanish translations - imagine it’s said in spanish 😘)

“no lo hagas.” miguel warned as he turned towards miles.

do not do it.

miles pulled down the zipper of his jacket and proceeded to pull both sides apart, exposing the red and black suit of the one and only spider-man.

“ay dios mìo.” rio uttered as her hands covered her mouth. jeff just stared. the awkward, apbrupt nature of the reveal made you want to die. you stood next to miles and covered the suit again. out of your peripheral you could see miguel with his head in his hands.

“i know it’s a lot but, miles is a good kid. you know that, and this is a huge secret, he knows. but all he wants is to keep the city safe and he does it! along with the noble police of course but at the end of the day, he comes home to you. he’s always safe and is never reckless and balances it all with school, family, friends, me. so don’t be mad that he lied, just be grateful he’s alive! not that he’s not responsible out in the field- he- miles is super careful i promise- i would know! he always takes me on swings and the amount of control he has- no actually he does not swing me since that would be-”

“càlmate querida.” rio spoke as she again hugged the two. “i knew you were hiding something but i thought it was- ni siquiera lo sè. pero estoy contenta es nada mal. pero siendo spider-man es- peligrosa. por favor tener cuidado mi ninito.”

“si mamà.”

“alright, if you’d wrap up there then maybe we can try and sort out your mess later? spot is here, and we need to contain before anything else ha-”

the whirring in the corner took you all by surprise. you were excited, maybe it was peter, or maybe hobie? pavitr? noir? pen-

you swear your heart stopped the second you saw other miles step through, and you clutched onto miles that much harder. as the portal closed miguel snapped his head towards miles, “now what the hell is this? did you do this? did you bring him out-”

“no, i did not bring him out! y/n/n and i barely got away from him! why would he wanna see him? send him back!” miles shouted as his parents’ jaws hung low.

other miles’ gaze lingered on his dad, which caused unease throughout miles’ body. what was he doing here? how did he get here? what was he for? revenge? does he think miles got bit on purpose? did he want y/n?

y/n.

her hand clutching his grounded him to the moment as he looked back at her, glossy eyes, chewed on lips and heavy breathing. she looked up at him and his heart plummeted. the idea of her getting hurt flashed through and all of a sudden, he was lunging at this other miles.

“this how you say hi up in here?” other miles joked as he allowed miles to tackle him and all of a sudden, the entire room was in motion. gwen running to miles’ aid, miguel readying his watch, more of spot spreading outside and miles’ parents trying to help their son as-well.

y/n stood still, what the hell was going on? miguel leapt outside as jessica’s bike could be heard starting up miles and miles got pulled apart from one another with miles in one corner, smug, and miles being pulled away by his parents and friend, furious.

miles was eventually subdued by gwen and miles whilst miguel hopped out the window to jessica. rio and jeff were confused by everything going on, “we let this boy out for one day and look what happens.” rio scoffed as jeff ushered her out of the messy apartment, “why won’t you leave!” gwen shouted at the other miles, frustrated, as he laughed in her face. “I just want one thing, but ain’t no one giving it to me.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, this guy was seriously delusional huh?

the growing concern was the enormous black holes appearing outside and if you were to save your world all of you needed to help outside rather than deal with other miles. looking around the room you found nothing of use, so you ran back inside miles’ room, searching through the drawers you were looking for one thing only.

webslingers!

you ran back to the living room to see gwen getting right back up, ready to charge at the other miles as you slipped it on and aimed.

sticky substances confined miles to the wall as he struggled to get out, he may be the prowler, but he doesn’t exactly have super strength. as he stayed strung up miles had the idea of finding the watch he used, the commotion outside was distracting yet you all tore the room apart for said watch only to find a mangled piece of wires and glass.

“looks like i’m staying a lil’ longer.” miles smirked your way as miles’ fists closed, connecting with his face, “miles!” you shouted out. “are you okay?” miles laughed, “yeah I’m good, but we gotta get out there and we need more help.”

and as if God was answering all of your prayers and words, portals began to open as the three of you sighed in relief. hobie, peter and may by association and pavitr hopped through. “hope we aren’t too late to the party.” hobie laughed as you ran over and hugged him, “could’ve used your help a little earlier but it doesn’t matter now, spot’s here and we need to stop him before he causes any further damage here. thank you, guys, for showing up.” you rambled on as the others smiled. “now i’ve gotten pretty use to the portal but maybe i am still experiencing some side-effects because i think i am seeing double.” pavitr exclaimed as miles and gwen walked over, “nope just another version, the usual.” gwen explained ever so nonchalant. “will you all stop standing around and get the hell out here?” miguel screamed as you all prepared for whatever was going to happen out there.

(Im too lazy to figure out how they defeat spot so come up with a fantasy or som since this is such a random explanation with no planning)

it was quite odd to be at HQ without a million spider people chasing you and your boyfriend, but you obviously weren’t complaining. as you walked through the halls miles’ grip on your hand was tighter than over, indicating he was feeling on edge, and you were glad you weren’t the only one.

spot may have been downright diabolical and delusional but god did he learn quickly. he must’ve devoured a million ‘how to villain’ books as he jumped around universes and aced any tests cause he somehow beat the shit out of all of you, repeatedly. but again, he was overly cocky and underestimated miguel’s willpower and it was obvious he was an amateur in the ‘angry miguel’ department since he had no clue what that man would do to keep the order.

with lyla and margo’s help and organisation you were able to come up with a way to lure spot into a trap, with his over-whelming need to beat your boyfriend came the blindness and he did whatever he thought would help him win. other spideys came along to aid your group of course and a certain spidey named petyr had the ability of illusions, being able to manipulate any mind into seeing what he wished. and whilst it was hard to catch spot his holes were an extension of himself in a way so touching one/being in one allowed petyr to connect with spot’s head. by creating that link he was able to create false versions of not only miles, but his parents and you.

once spot believed everyone else to be busy fighting off the destruction around them and saving people, he cornered miles and was monologuing his ass off, “no one’s here to save you, you realize that right? just like no one came to save me. no one is going to care about you being gone, your family being gone. you ruined my life and now I’ve ruined yours, maybe your parents manage to escape, your girlfriend too, but they will never be able to come back here. im going to destroy this world of yours, like you destroyed mine. and no one will ever overlook me again. im more powerful than any of your little spider society.”

and as he continued the real miles slung down and tapped him on the shoulder, “are you so lonely you’re talking to walls?” he joked as he sent about a bajillion volts of energy throughout his body, then quickly transporting everyone back to HQ and trapping spot.

lyla with the help of some scientist spideys managed to figure out a way to take away all the dark matter from johnathon’s body, returning him to his normal self. as he stared in awe of his normal body being returned to him you could see the sadness on his face. yes, he was normal again, but what was he supposed to do now? his family turned away from him, his job probably wouldn’t take him back, did everyone know who he turned into? god all the things he’d done, how was someone supposed to turn back to normal after being a literal universe-travelling, world-destroying villain?

and the other miles, miguel had him in the amber case as he waited to be taken back to his world. the watch he’d used was gone so he couldn’t exactly use that and he was surrounded by literal heroes. he couldn’t exactly fight them all off, take you and run. he knew his time with you was slipping away and he hated that he couldn’t do a single thing.

so he sat and watched you as miles brushed away stray hairs, assessed the damage on you as you comforted each other. his eyes drifted to rio and jeff, the two of them in awe of their surroundings whilst throwing questions every second at the two of you whilst you tried your best to answer them all. there was so much going on around you but all you cared about was your family, which didn’t include him, and never would.

miles was absolutely exhausted.

and as the two of you sat down together you wondered what would happen in the future, what miguel was going to do about your canon event, how you’d save his dad.

and while you didn’t know what would happen in the future you knew whatever happened,

you have eachother.

[girlamb]

Julia Hafstrom and Gwen Loos by Ellen Von Unwerth for Vogue Italia (2010)

[cbk1000]

I'm bored and feeling slightly under the weather, so I decided to post some of the almost 15,000 words I have of a luxury train holiday fic that I started after learning that luxury train holidays were a thing. Why did I write a fic about such a random thing? Because I fell down a rabbit hole of luxury travel videos, discovered luxury trains, and naturally turned those videos into a Merthur fic.

Waverly Station, not to put too fine a point on it, was the most wretched hive of scum and villainy ever to be stolen by the British Empire; though possibly this was because Edinburgh had rained on Arthur, rather prodigiously, whilst he was legging it for the station; possibly because he had been woken, at the hour of No, to catch a train into Scotland; and possibly because he was carrying everything which Morgana owned, over every limb he owned; and consequently hated everyone. The sad fate of the baggage mule was his own: to be flogged, viciously, by a master too precious to carry their own bloody rubbish, through the most wretched of conditions (mizzle), with as little thanks as can be given by a creature throated to give it: and with that especial garnish, which was that he was being hit by Morgana’s voice, rather than a nice little crop, which would have only broken his flesh, and not his spirit.

He was trying to decide in which order to kill them both when he spotted, at the other end of the station, the sculpted dark head, modelled in the image of a wave; though the wave would have blushed to hear it. And beside it, a head similarly coloured, if not similarly coiffed; though he had got it into some order, and not an entirely hideous one. Gwaine nodded; and then Merlin turned round, and showed Arthur the smile he hadn’t seen in two weeks. And he felt it call up from the depths of him an answering smile, though he still hated, in the following order, Morgana; the weather; everyone.

“Should have asked me and Gwaine to carry your stuff. Arthur’s clearly crumbling under the weight of being overestimated,” Merlin said, exchanging cheek kisses with Morgana.

“I just love how funny you are,” Arthur replied, chucking off the various pieces of baggage, and letting them land where they landed.

“Don’t throw my stuff, you absolute knob.”

“Then carry it yourself!” Arthur snapped. “Did you remember your suit?” he asked Merlin, who in a blazer and shirt which appeared, miraculously, not to have got his breakfast, blood, or tea on it, was so uncharacteristically smart that probably he considered himself to be entirely done improving on himself. “You’ll have to wear a proper suit for the formal dinners.” He paused, squinting at him. “Do you have product in your hair?”

Merlin wiggled his eyebrows. “Gwaine helped me with it. Don’t worry; I won’t embarrass you on your posh train.”

“You embarrass me on the Tube.”

“I think that’s just because you feel a heightened sense of shame at having to ride public transportation with the plebian class.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Where are Gwen and Lancelot?”

“Gwen’s in the loo; Lancelot’s gone to look for something to eat. He’s worried the train’s going to serve tiny rich people portions.” Merlin pocketed his hands in his trousers. “Want a coffee?”

“Sure; I could use one, having got up at the arse crack of time this morning,” Arthur said, glaring at Morgana, who as usual was perfectly untroubled by her conduct. He gave Merlin a little slap on the shoulder, and then draped his arm round it, steering him toward Caffé Nero before he could do something unforgivable, like choose Costa. He had enhanced the blazer and hair product with a little aftershave, so that as they were walking, Arthur caught a whiff of something not entirely abhorrent; though his manners, doubtless, would make up for it. If they got him on the train, in the blazer, and no one was very much harmed in the process, that was the most which feeble humanity could expect of God’s capricious mercy. “How’s work?”

“Like arse,” Merlin said, paying for their coffees, and handing Arthur his. “I think they would have asked me to push off my holiday, except they know I’m a biter. And not just the sexy kind.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Just something to consider, a luxury train holiday with a spa and 24 hour steward service might be the place to consider not being a totally classless knob who talks about his sexual preferences in public.”

“The train has a spa?!”

Arthur ignored that. “You didn’t answer about the suit.”

“Yes, I packed the suit we FaceTimed about.”

“Nice to know you can occasionally conjure up enough sense to listen to me,” Arthur said, sipping from his coffee, and looking across the platforms to where Gwen had now joined Morgana and Gwaine, and the women were talking with their heads close together, and laughing, whilst Gwaine arranged himself for the admiring masses. 

“Sometimes I wish he weren’t so straight,” Merlin said, cocking his head a little to one side, and drinking from his coffee. “Just a little bit gay; that’s all I’m asking for.”

“Gwaine?” Arthur sputtered, choking on his coffee. “Why on earth?”

“Because he’s the fittest man I know.”

“Of everyone you know, Gwaine is the fittest.”

“No, I didn’t say everyone, I said of the men I know. I would never say fittest of everyone I know, when Morgana’s right there.”

Arthur stepped on his foot, and got the maddening dimples which told him that Merlin was being trying for the sheer and unadulterated pleasure of it; though he made up for it, marginally, by stepping out from underneath Arthur’s arm, so that he could have a proper look at him, the measuring appraisal of a (not terribly) discerning bisexual, who was not so simple, at least, as to not notice that Arthur was practically the pinnacle of attractiveness, in regular shirt and trousers; and in a proper jacket was planting his flag at the peak of it. “You look ok, though,” Merlin said, tweaking one of his lapels a little.

Arthur cuffed him across the back of the head. “Ok.”

“Yeah. For a total arsehole.”

Lancelot had returned, and Arthur and Merlin were cordially punching one another, when the Royal Scotsman arrived, and Gwen gave a little squeal, and leapt up holding two very reasonable bags, whilst Morgana and entourage looked at Arthur expectantly.

“I am not hauling all that on the bloody train. You could have asked yourself at any point, ‘Do I need my entire closet for a week-long holiday?’ and come to a sane conclusion, but you didn’t,” Arthur said; and so having stated his piece, hauled his own rucksack over his shoulder, forsaking hers.

They were piped aboard the train, a rather troublesome portent, Arthur felt; all week people would be making noise which they felt to be music, whilst he was trying to work or read or bathe; whilst it was his right to exist with the Highlands of Scotland, doing their piece to be stunning, whilst he did his. He had his luggage taken, and was shown through into the Observation Car, which was kitted out like a lounge with armchairs and sofas, and a small balcony for watching the stars. Merlin, true to his complete lack of noticeable decorum, said, “Holy shit.” There was a decent carpet underfoot, the colour of wine; and the wood panelling was the same as he had seen in hotels of distinction. There was the bar at the end of the car, which he would need, once Morgana boarded with the Luggage, having got Gwaine to do the hauling for her, and still feeling that Arthur owed her his time and lumbar spine.

“Why did you book us a double, you weirdo?” Merlin asked when they were taken to their cabin, having shouldered ahead of Arthur, to get a look at it first, before Arthur could spoil his first impressions, by being, as Merlin put it, ‘a poncey indifferent bastard.’

“I didn’t. It’s a twin.”

“Looks like a double bed to me.”

“What?” Arthur cried, and pushed him out of the doorway. 

Merlin, contrary to all that was sane, or expected, was right: there was the one lone bed, lovely but singular. They had made it up with a little tartan duvet in the spirit of their culture, as if that would make up for the insult. “We’re supposed to have a twin room.”

“I’m sorry, sir, this is the room.” This from the liveried employee who had shown them to the cabin, and was now realising he had done something, inadvertently, to anger the kind of patron who could drop twenty-six thousand pounds on an eight-day holiday. Merlin pinched him. “It’s fine,” he reassured the man, dimpling at him. 

“It’s not fine!” Arthur cried.

“Yes, it is. If you don’t have any other rooms, and I’m assuming you don’t, otherwise you would have said so immediately, as soon as he started turning all red in the face, we can manage. He’s not the worst thing I’ve woken up to,” Merlin said, and dimpled again, this time in a way that made Arthur coincidentally sweat.

“You didn’t have to be a knob to him,” Merlin said when the man had left, tossing his blazer over the armchair. 

“I wasn’t a knob to him, he mucked up my booking!”

“He didn’t muck up your booking, and put your tits back on. I think we can survive sharing a double bed for a week. I don’t know what you’re complaining about, anyway. You’re the one who snores.”

“I do not snore,” Arthur said, outraged. “You’ll have to sleep in the armchair.”

“I’m not sleeping in the armchair.”

“Well--on the floor, then. I’m sure there’s extra bedding to be got.”

“I’m not sleeping in the armchair, or on the floor; if you’ve got a problem sharing, you’re free to kip on either one,” Merlin said, as if it were settled; and now began, with every appearance of serenity, to begin unloading his bag, into the loo, and all over the writing table and bed, as if he were entitled to the calm dispersal of his belongings, whilst Arthur was stood in the centre of the cabin, clutching at his bag, and staring. The bed was an ordinary double; no giant of its kind, but a mere representative, with no girth but the girth to accommodate them, just. Doubles were for couples who didn’t mind mingling their breath and their limbs and their--other limbs. And now he would have to share, with Merlin’s aftershave and thighs, the romantic space in the spirit of platonicness. Already Merlin had sprawled out on it, demonstrating how it was to be, for seven nights, for Arthur’s personal bubble. Already he had taken off his shoes and blazer, and put his fitted trousers all over Arthur’s bed, as if it were decent, or sensible, or respectable, to take off any clothes whatsoever, in that close, warm space in which they would have to violate the edicts of platonic accord.

“So all week, I’m to have your elbow in my ribs, and just deal with it?” Arthur demanded, still clutching at the bag on his shoulder.

“Yeah, and probably my morning wood too, but I wouldn’t worry about it; if our friendship can get past your personality, it can get past anything.”

Gwen poked her head in the door. “Hello! They’re serving afternoon tea soon.” She stopped, and looked at Merlin on the bed, and looked at Arthur, not on the bed, because he was in possession of common decency. “Why have you got a double?”

“I dunno. Apparently Arthur and I are on our honeymoon,” Merlin said, scrolling through his mobile with his thumb without looking up.

“I booked a twin,” Arthur repeated, loudly but uselessly, in the face of Merlin’s indifference, and Gwen’s eyebrow. She was giving him a Look, very capitalised. It was Arthur’s unfortunate but not unexpected cross to bear; he was one of those unlucky blokes who had got some miscreants, instead of those decent, ordinary folk of common friendship; though he had expected better from Gwen. 

“Anyway,” she said, still giving him the odd Look, “are you coming down for tea? We’re in the first dining car.”

“In a minute,” Arthur said, unloading his bag, by the satisfactory method of smacking Merlin in the face with it.

“Ow!”

“Arthur,” Gwen scolded gently, and was gone, leaving him in that strange shrunken space, where before had existed a normal-sized room; even a rather kingly one, for a train. He felt there was a sort of odd pressure round him. He felt already that he had the awareness of Merlin, before he had Merlin--his close, stifling body, in the bed, that was--the close, stifling presence, offensive if not downright repulsive; anyway, he was quite plagued, quite unsurprisingly, as he had been, all their long and troublesome friendship. 

“Get up; we’re going for tea,” he said, poking Merlin in the side, and getting a yelp out of him. 

They watched Edinburgh and the Castle vanishing beyond the windows from the dining car, whilst Lancelot ate an alarming number of canapes, and Gwen warned him, in the roundabout way of innuendo, by someone who actually knew how to make it, that he oughtn't to be too full, for the sake of--of dinner.

“And dessert,” Merlin said, in a dining car full of blazers and cocktail dresses, in a tone which specified, clearly and resoundingly, that he was not referring to a nice little jelly or sorbet.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to embarrass me on my posh train?” Arthur asked, kicking him in the shin. 

“Technically I embarrassed Gwen,” Merlin pointed out, shovelling one of the canapes into his mouth. “What are we doing tonight?” he asked, like an animal, through the canape, rather than after it.

“Drinking, I think,” Gwaine replied.

“There aren’t any excursions today,” Morgana said. “We’re getting off tomorrow at Glenfinnan, but tonight you’re free to do whatever you like, till dinner. Have some drinks, watch the scenery, break in your double bed.” She smirked at him.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “For the last time, I. Booked. A Twin.”

“He just missed me, is all,” Merlin said, turning on him a smirk almost as bothersome as Morgana’s.

“I don’t see how,” she said, sipping her tea. “I’m sure he has a little doll made of your hair that he sleeps with every night.”

“Yeah, but it just can’t live up to the real thing,” Merlin replied, ruffling it.

“I wish you’d never met. Or been born,” Arthur said pleasantly.

“Merlin, why don’t you give your bride a proper seeing-to in your double bed? He’s getting tetchy again.”

“Piss off,” Arthur said, and went to find, in the arms of some champagne, solace from the bitter reality of his genetics.

[la-dame-aux-pieds-nus]

Julia Hafstrom and Gwen Loos by Ellen Von Unwerth for Vogue Italia (2010)

[crazy56u]

Legitimate Question Concerning Spider Man and Sam Beckett

So, I’m on break right now, and I feel inquisitive:

Let’s imagine a hypothetical crossover between Quantum Leap and Spider-Man. The leap in question, of course (because God just seems to hate Sam and Peter), sees Sam leaping into the day of this little number:

(As an aside, ignoring that “floating timeline of comics” shit, I recently worked on that Gwen’s death occurred on November 23rd [I read the following comics, took notes of when they mentioned the time, and worked backward]; for this hypothetical, I’m saying the date is November 23rd, 1972.)

As such, regardless of the real reason Sam were to leap into this situation (and also factoring in that sometimes, Sam leaps into the absolute worst person for a given situation):

[somuchbetterthanthat]

A little Gwen&Alice with heaavy alice/sam, because I needed to write something after that last ep and tumblr ficlets are less intimidating than full fics.

In hindsight, hiding in the loo is dumb. Sam's making her dumb, which is aggravating and bothersome and does not horribly ache like it used to, before, in those last few weeks they'd stayed together in the same flat while Sam prepared his trip abroad. Alice's a Cool Girl. Cool girls don't hide in bathrooms because their best friend who just so happen to be their ex arrived to the office at the arm of another woman with the sparkly bubbly smile that screams I had such a good time this weekend Celia is awesome at sex.

Then again, Alice's pretty sure her Cool Girl's crown's been stolen the moment Celia walked in with those stupid donuts for the first time (and it is painful, in a way, that Celia is cool to hang around with; pretty and fun and chill and blessed with the same ability Sam has to be friendly with everyone she meets immediately).

Whatever; Alice's excellent at building new narratives and looking away to survive. She'll withstand having Sam back in her life and then feeling like she's loosing him all over again like a fucking champ -- but she has to admit, hiding in the loo was just not a good move, 'cause now she's got to not only deny her sad moody depressing feelings, but also the fact that Gwendolyn Bouchard is clearly weeping on the stall next to hers.

"Hey," she whispers, after three long minutes of wondering whether she wants to deal with this, then deciding it's the sort of night where she'd definitely rather think of someone else's problems than her own.

There's mouvement on her left, then a sharp exhale. "What?" hisses Gwen.

"Want to tell me what this is all about?" Alice asks, staring at the door.

"No," Gwen snaps. Then: "We're in a bathroom, Alice, for god's sake, do you have any sort of decorum--"

"Exactly!" Alice cuts her off. "We're in a bathroom. That's basically being in a confessional for us ladies, innit? Sure we're not drunk out of our heads at the club or whatever, but I think this qualifies all the same. Everything you'll say is sacred in here my dear. Any sin is between you, me, and those awful scratchy paper roll that we're always out of. Hope you've got an handkerchief ready, by the way."

It must strike a nerve, because Gwen stays silent for a good thirty seconds before she mutters: "Anyone could come in."

"Oh, please," Alice snorts. "We both know Lena's not human enough to have to use the loo and Celia's too busy getting lost into Sam's eyes, we're fine."

"Why do you say that?" Gwen asks, her tone suddenly more alert.

"...'Cause Celia is getting lost in Sam's eyes? I mean, I know you have your whole thing going on and you're wayy better than us now that you got that shiny promotion you wanted so much, but they've literally been building this whole sickening little office romance just in front of our noses for like, two months, surely you haven't missed that. Kinda surprised you haven't actually told them this was against regulations or whatever."

"No not Celia, I don't care about her, or whatever's going on with Sam (Lucky you, Alice thinks meanly, and has to bite her tongue very hard). I mean about Lena. Do you think she's --" Gwen stops, exhales shakily. "Now, that'd be ridiculous. Obviously. She's nothing like --"

Oh, Alice thinks. Oh, Gwendolyn. She wishes people would listen to her, when she says to look away. Sam and Gwen are similar that way, she notes. All too ready to dig themselves into messes that are much too big for them to take on.

"I was making a joke," she tells Gwen. "I do that, sometimes. Oh, not very often of course, you know me, all too serious for this sort of nonsense, but I have heard before that it can lighten the mood here and there--"

"God, you are unsufferable."

"Is that how you talk to your priest, Gwendolyn? Shame on you."

"I'm leaving now. This is all pointless, and we've got work to do anyway."

"Do we ever," Alice sighs.

"You've been here for like, twenty five minutes, by the way," Gwen adds. "If you want to keep pretending you're not the one mooning over Sam, you might want to come out soon."

[topina12]

Ok so yall need to hear me out about this. You know how Gwen in spiderverse is at the very least a trans allegory and at most implied to be trans right? Well I always thought that she was just an allegory because in my head her being trans made no logical sense since every other gwen stacy is a cis woman. However I then realized that she is implied to be the only Gwen Stacy in the whole spiderverse to survive and that's when I realized: what if the reason why she survived is because she's not the same Gwen Stacy as everyone else? Instead she was born as Capt. Stacy's son, however she realised she was a girl at a very young age and her father supported her through puberty blockers and hrt immediatly, making her transition completed at the age of 16. The reason why she's still named Gwen Stacy despite not being the same Gwen as every other one is because she requested her dad to be the one to name her. I know it's probably not true but it's a very nice headcanon to have because it makes Captain Stacy even more of an ally and it ties some loos ends that didn't initially make sense in my head.

[sseanettles]

nothing grows in corpses (in the earth of me)

dream x hob gadling | mature | Finally cross-posting my take on the fandom classic of the show progresses as the comics do, even to The Wake. Until Death resurrects Morpheus and forces the choice of "redemption" upon him instead of suicide. It goes...horribly. No good. Very bad. Instead of learning the lesson, Morpheus (in his infinite wisdom) opts instead for a highly effective existence strike until one day Hob Gadling stumbles upon his ghastly handiwork and immediately decides that this just won't do. Man Who Refuses To Die vs. Man Who Refuses To Live: fight.

Dead Dove, Do Not Eat for the following: graphic depictions of starvation, illness, suicidal ideation, self-harm, blood and gore, loss of autonomy, etc. etc. This is some classic old world whump, folks! But I promise it's also supremely healing in the end.

CH. 20: meteorite song | 2.3 k | AO3 link | prev part

(or: the one where it ends. for now.)

Morpheus woke in a gasping, harrowing rush that turned into his releasing sobs of the Dreaming, and he was greeted by an immediate cacophony of startled screams, shattering glass, and several toppling thuds. There was the smell of leather, of binding glue, of paper and paint and tea and Chinese take-out. The ceiling above him was pale with dark, exposed beams lit by amber lamps. Gadling; it was Gadling’s flat, Gadling’s ceiling, and that meant…he was awake.

“Fucking shit, Endless!”

Home.

Two sets of footsteps barreled toward him, a body hitting the floorboards beside him while another vaulted onto the sofa, making him bounce. Constantine’s face loomed above him, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that couldn’t quite keep her bangs out of her wide eyes, and…her bangs.

His already thudding heart sped faster, adrenaline cutting the fog of his brain like a blade and staying his tears with dread instead.

“Robbie!” Gwen was calling somewhere to his right. “Okay, Robbie, you did it, come on.”

Constantine’s bangs had not always been that shape. How long had they been in the Dreaming? How long had Gadling—

Constantine rolled her eyes with a scoffing smirk. “Oh, calm down, you. Trimmed my hair in the loo just to fuck with you.” A groaning burst of a laugh punched from Morpheus’ ribs, and he tipped his head back into his pillows as he gripped Constantine’s arms as if she were the last thing keeping him tethered to reality. “Welcome back. It’s been five days.”

Five days. Five days.

“It’s done, Robbie. Now, wake up!”

Constantine looked to the floor beside them and stilled. “Shit.”

“Robbie,” Gwen begged, her hoarse voice rising to a shout, “wake up!”

Morpheus’ dread returned like a grave swallowing him whole, and he turned his head.

Hob Gadling lied upon the floor amid Constantine’s magics, his eyes gently shut, his skin clammy and pale from the sweat that clung to his shirt and dampened his hair. Gwen knelt at his head, pounding his chest and shaking his shoulders, but his head only lolled lifelessly to the side beneath her frantic touch.

Loud and bold and full of irreverent life…now little more than a body.

“Gadling.” His hoarse call shook like a child wandering lost in the night, drowned beneath Gwen’s continued shouts. And as Constantine struggled from the bed to run to Hob’s side, Morpheus pulled himself to the edge, stretching with a groan for his friend’s unmoving form.

“Gadling,” he panted and finally grabbed hold of the front of his shirt. “Gadling.”

His mouth was blue.

“ROBBIE?!” Gwen screamed. “Wake him up! He was supposed to wake up, wake him up, Constantine—”

His mouth was blue, his fingers, his feet; his eyes were sunken; his chest did not rise, did not fall, and Morpheus pulled tighter, dragging himself closer as his own limbs struggled to remember how to move after five days of stillness. 

No, no, no, no, no. He took a quaking breath.

“HOB!”

o\\__oOoOoOo__//o

Hob stood in the reshaped fields of Fawney Rig in his form of six hundred years past, staring into the distance where the grasses changed and the air grew salty and fresh as the earth rose and dropped away into seaside cliffs. That dreaded house stood tall an equal distance behind him, once more content to be nothing but old stone and wood empty of all but memory. He shook his head in disturbed marvel as the sun began to set.

“Really?” He turned to his companion. “All of this for something that simple?”

Dream of the Endless joined him, the wildflowers turning to watch his passing and the butterflies and bees flitting at his heels before dispersing into the air.

“The will to live, the drive…” A faint smile played at his lips, and he regarded the human beside him with an awesome sort of pride. “The understanding of the miracle that is life, Hob Gadling, does not come as easily to all as it does to you.”

Gulls called overhead, and as they both looked up to their passing, Dream took a step. When Hob looked back down, he found them atop those distant cliffs, gazing upon a stretch of beach he had not seen in near a year.

“Life holds within it its own reason, its own purpose,” Dream continued in a murmur and watched the birds glide for the edge of the world. “Its joy, its wonders, its tragedies and pains: all of it together is the answer to itself. The answer to Why?”

A lump formed in Hob’s throat as he spoke, and he took in the splendor of it all: the shining sands, the gorgeous hue of the sea even as the setting sun lit it aflame, the heart-like roar of the surf as it came and went and came and went, the swaying push of the wind heavy with the scent of salt and flowers, the ice-plant and their blooms at their feet, the sun-warmed earth, the pipers that chased the surf and the gulls that flew lower to the water in perfect formation, the driftwood trunks of long-gone trees that melded into the beach with new life sprouting from them like fossils reborn….

It was the world. And it was beautiful.

Dream watched the peasant from 1389 beside him watch existence, the wind tangling his once-more wild hair and beard, and the sun caught off the wetness on his cheeks.

“I admire you,” he said, “endlessly, for how viciously you have grasped and held to that truth.”

Hob Gadling looked to the one who was both mere boy and impossibly ancient cosmic creature in the same breath with a ridiculously stunned look on his face and let another wave of tears slip silently free. And as Dream reached gently for his shoulder, touching down upon him with the absolving grace of a King, Hob scrubbed his tattered sleeve across his face. They stood like that for some time until Hob’s tears dried, and Dream took back his touch to clasp his hands at the small of his back. The sun, which should have set by now, still hung at the same low point in the sky, partially submerged beneath the sea.

“Morpheus has always been one for melancholy. To get him to release that…to open himself to what can be….” Dream shook his head. “He will think he has accomplished it just by this. So much more is to come in his journey.”

Hob sniffed and set his jaw.

“I know,” he agreed and looked to his arm in surprise as a tentative touch crept about his wrist.

Dream was holding to him hesitantly, his head tipped in gentle query and his eyes so innocently wide. He pulled, not very hard, but just enough to make his wish known, and Hob moved easily until they faced one another.

“Would you walk with him still?”

“Oh, yes. Always.”

The sun began to move once more in the sky, sinking to its sleep. As the brilliant colors struck upon Dream’s visage, turning his blinding white a myriad of autumnal colors, Hob saw something flicker in those eyes. Something tugged at his lips, furrowed his brow, and his touch shifted on Hob’s arm without releasing. He did not hold him any tighter; he just did not let go and seemed to be trying to drink in as much of the contact as he could, memorizing every stitch of the medieval fabric and the warmth of the body that carried impossibly on beneath it.

“Can…” Hob hesitated and then took the plunge. In for a penny, in for a pound, wasn’t he? “Can I hug you?”

Dream blinked at him and seemed to, in that moment, remember himself. He began to straighten his posture, and his cadence stiffened in kind to that of the young monarch still navigating his function.

“If that is something you wish—”

Hob closed the space between them in a lurch and pulled the boy into a hug so tight it would have bruised anything with true form. But Dream of the Endless was not that, and nothing Hob could inflict with his own flesh and bone could physically hurt him in any true fashion of the word. He knew that now. And so, he held tight enough to suffocate, locking his arms around the kid with hand on wrist, and rested his head heavily upon his shoulder.

“Don’t forget the lesson yourself, yeah?” he managed through his gummy throat.

Dream’s hands settled along his back in a far gentler return embrace. His hair was as soft as silk, as light as clouds, as his head tipped a bit against Hob’s own wild waves.

“Someday, I must,” he said, and the human once again struggled to swallow past the lump rapidly expanding in his throat. “That is my tale.”

“Ach,” Hob scoffed and sniffled again, squeezing the boy tighter as he willed his voice to hold and his tearing eyes to dry. “You never know. You might change it this time ‘round, yeah?” He pulled away, clapped Dream on the shoulder, and busied his hands that were drenched in the invisible blood of countless with tidying the lad’s regalia in his wake. He glanced to those eyes that saw all and gave him a wink and a lopsided grin as he worked. “Don’t want to be back here in a few hundred thousand years with your successor, chasing you through dreams and trying to clobber you with the same lesson, now do I?”

Christ. The shock that lit in the boy’s eyes at Hob’s joking, yet fully sincere promise was a horse’s kick to the chest. It softened his enigma of an expression, wounded him with a kind of disbelief—a truly startled you would do that? For me? that betrayed his being’s fundamentally delicate sense of self-worth like a glimpse of some passing shadow beneath a ship on the farthest, loneliest reaches of the sea. But it was a brief thing, that slip, and Hob watched as it transitioned from that startled astonishment to fond exasperation.

And call him cocky, call him arrogant, but Hob would’ve told anyone who asked that that look was mostly fond.

“Perhaps, Hob Gadling,” Dream of the Endless said with that slight smile, that mix of affection and annoyance, and Hob knew what was coming next. He nodded his farewell, his permission, and took a small, shuffling step back. “But for now, this dream…”

And in that breath of a pause, Hob was seized by the sudden need to see it all. He looked to the sea, to the world, to the sun as it finally slipped into the waves, and there were whales breaching, birds making their last few passes in the surf, insects beginning their nighttime serenades and…and there was everything.

Hob closed his eyes as the last of the sun’s rays outran its darkening like the shine of stars in the night, faintly smiling all the while.

“…is over.”

o\\__oOoOoOo__//o

Hob woke with a gasping inhale that lifted him from the floor, and somewhere above him Constantine let out a mighty swear as she heaved Gwen back to safety. A pale hand gripped the front of his shirt in a shaking fist, twisting the fabric in frantic need as Hob continued to gasp and seize, and he grabbed at it with his own fumbling, disoriented hands. He grabbed the arm that continued above it, and he tracked the touch back to his Stranger’s eyes with a watery gaze of his own as the man hung off the edge of the bed to reach him. His breaths evened as oxygen returned to his blood, and he saw the same relief shudder through his dear friend at the sound. 

His Stranger turned his face into the blankets bunched beneath him; his grip in his shirt adjusted but did not ease.

Hob reached a little higher, cupping that raven head, and tucked his fingers away into his hair.

It’s okay, the gentle caresses whispered. I’m okay.

Those thin shoulders began to shake. His fist twisted in Hob’s shirt until his nails tore the fabric.

There’s nothing more to hide, his silence soothed. Nothing to fear that I’ll judge or hate you for.

You are seen. You are known. And I am still here.

Slowly, a degree at a time, his Stranger turned his head within Hob’s touch until he could meet his eyes. His skin was blotchy and wet, his eyes swollen and red. So very truly human after so long. Hob swept his thumb across his cheek on instinct, trying to clean away the tears and snot.

It’s okay.

“Morpheus,” the Stranger croaked against his palm with hiccoughing breaths.

Hob stilled and hardly dared to hope.

“…What?”

“You…you may call me…Morpheus.”

Hob’s tears spilled over as his face split with the biggest, most radiant smile Morpheus had ever seen upon him, and Hob deepened his touch to cradle his head. 

“Morpheus?” he asked, just to be sure, still catching his breath. His friend nodded. “Yeah?” Morpheus nodded again, and as Hob lurched into him with an overwhelmed laugh, he reciprocated the awkward embrace that wrapped about his head and shoulders and left them each collapsed into the crook of the other’s neck. He felt Hob’s mouth on his throat, grinning still, his hot breath shaking with the heartfelt tears that yet fell. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, Morpheus.”

Morpheus closed his eyes. Tucked his face down into Hob’s neck. 

He could not yet find it in himself to smile. 

o\\__oOoOoOo__//o

In Destiny’s garden, the eldest Endless paused in his maze, and he stared at the end of the page before him in near disbelief followed by a pulse of pride that dissipated quickly into his usual stoicism.

And he finally, finally turned to the next one.

[noiriarti]

The Arrangement: Armitage Hux x Reader (College AU) Ch. 5

Summary: A cuddle-buddies-to-lovers college AU.

AN: second to last chapter!! i was activated like a sleeper agent and wrote this in a fugue state at 2 am. it is also 3.5k words. hope you like it! i am going to put this man through a juicer like he's an orange!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, [Ch. 5], Ch. 6

Chapter 5: Yogurt

After his revelation, Armitage started feeling guilty. It was in the rules, wasn't it, that you had to be honest with one another? That he had to come clean? But if he told you, you might pull away. Stop staying over. Or, worse, stop being his friend. That was unthinkable, so he kept his mouth shut. Meanwhile, you were thinking the same thing.

He was everything you wanted: proud, smart, reliable, strong, and, beneath it all, kind. Sweet. You'd pick him in a room of the hottest men on the planet a million times over. When you'd started your arrangement, you'd known him, sure, but you hadn't known him. What made him tick. What he wanted out of life. Watching him talk about how much he loved doing research in a neurochem lab, describing his experiments and the machines he used, you had slowly started peeling back the layers of his shell.

You just hadn't expected some of your discoveries to be so sad. Behind the facade of the dry humor and the insults he could hurl at Kylo in a heartbeat, he was so soft and delicate that it made your heart ache. You heard a bit about his father, when he would let some story slip. He told you once, when he was drifting off and let his guard down, that his father always found him lacking. That he could never be good enough. Useless and pathetic. Brendol Hux was a neurosurgeon with a god complex almost as large as his bank account, and he wasn't afraid of reminding Armitage exactly how he had misstepped that week. You suspected Brendol was physically abusive too, but you didn't want to ask Armitage. Not when he was so reticent to bring him up in the first place. The rest of his home life was bleak too. His stepmother, Maratelle, was calm, but distant. Armitage wasn't hers, as far as she was concerned. If she did speak to him, it was some remark about what he was eating, or his posture.

He was so proper, so deeply self-controlled, in every aspect of his day. His daily calendar was exacting, and often so overstuffed you felt anxious just looking at it. He did everything when he was supposed to do it, like clockwork. You could practically set your watch by his breakfast routine or his study sessions. That self-control was probably why  he never did anything that was vaguely sexual or romantic during your sessions, more than the inherent romance of how much contact you had. He never tried to kiss you, and, oddly, you found yourself hoping for it. The irony that this whole arrangement started precisely from your desire for no kissing or groping during cuddling wasn't lost on you, but it was different with Armitage.

Lately, though, you had seen a change in him. As he told you about his meetings with his advisors, he brought up a new idea. Clinical psychiatry. He could do research, and explore how brain chemistry worked in the real human body. Evaluate medicines. Really help people, not just now, but in the future. He could help make people better. Or, he could also make new medicines, but he'd need a PhD in chemistry for that. Either way, he was reconsidering his future, and the first person he wanted to tell was you.

A week after her bombshell, seeing no movement in your situation, Gwen casually mentioned one of your neighbors and friends, Finn, was having a party that Friday. That he told her to invite her roommates. You knew Finn from your Intro Compsci class, and he was great. Really sweet, lived with his boyfriend Poe and their friends Rey and Rose. You said you and Armitage would be there, not noticing that you had begun speaking for the two of you as a collective in the past month. After a hard semester, it was time to let loose. To chill a bit. Maybe forget about how much you wanted Armitage. You knew exactly what you would wear, too. 

On Thursday night, you heard raised voices in his room, just for a minute. After he yelled something indistinct, you heard a smash and then silence. Concerned, you knocked on his door. Tap tap tap tap. You didn't bother waiting for him to open the door. Those kinds of boundaries had been crossed a long time ago.

Armitage was on his bed, his head in his hands, shaking in rage. His phone was on the floor against the room, and you realized he had thrown it in anger. Worry clouded you, and you immediately rushed to him, sitting next to him in the dark room. Only the lamp by his bed shone, like it always did when he was expecting you.

"What's wrong?" You asked as you draped your arms over his shaking shoulders, trying in vain to calm him down.

"My father--he. We fought," he choked out. He wasn't crying, but his voice was thick with emotion.

"I'm so sorry. Want to talk about it?" You offered. He hesitated for a moment, but nodded. Millie was hiding under the bed, but peeked her head out at the softness of his voice.

"I brought up my idea to try chemistry--a PhD instead of an MD. Or, at least, to do psychiatry instead of surgery. He didn't like it," he whispered, his voice breaking. A sob bubbled up in his chest, but he kept it pressed deep down. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't.

"He's an asshole. You should be able to do what you want," you told him, rubbing up and down on his arm. Millie crawled into his lap, looking up at him with her large, green eyes. 

"Hey, girl," he whispered to her under his breath, scratching behind her ears, before turning his attention back to you. "It doesn't work like that in my family. If I don't do what he wants, he'll be disappointed and--I don't know." You pulled him down onto the bed so that he was facing the wall, and you were behind him. He hid himself in the wall, curling up until he felt tiny in the space. Like he did when his father yelled at him when he was little. You snaked your free hand over him, pulling him closer and pressing your chest into his back. The exact opposite of what you did the first night you were together.

You laid there for a couple of minutes, just holding him as he processed. In a tiny, tiny voice, so silent you wouldn't have caught it if the room wasn't dead quiet, he asked you something.

"Do you think I'll ever stop wanting him to like me?" You crumbled. He was so precious, so sweet. I like you. I love you. You don't need him, your mind echoed. You wanted nothing more than to keep him like this, wrapped up in your arms, until he understood how much he meant to you.

"Armitage, he's your dad. Of course you want him to like you. But he's controlling, and if you spend your whole life chasing what he wants, how will you ever have space for what you want? All your friends know how amazing you are. We know you, who you are, and we love you for it. You would be an excellent psychiatrist, or chemist, or, hell, even a surgeon. What your father wants is irrelevant. What you want should be all that matters." He nodded, but stayed quiet. When he'd had fights like this with his father as a child, they rocked him to his core. He'd hole up in his room for hours, even days, hoping that someone would come looking. That someone would find him and tell him he was okay. That they weren't mad at him. With you, with Gwen, hell, even with Kylo in his life, it felt like there was someone there. Someone to help him keep going when his family was hard. Hearing your words, for the first time after a fight with his father, he started getting angry, but the emotion was short-lived. 

Armitage was trying and failing to ignore he way his body lit up when you said you (all) loved him. He knew it was a general, collective statement, but he let himself believe, just for tonight, that you meant it the way he desperately wanted you to. That you were holding him not as his... whatever this was, but as his girlfriend. The arms of a lover, the embrace of his girl. Tonight, somewhere between the rage at his father and the pain of rejection, he could let himself believe it. It soothed him, and he imagined life with you. Waking up and having cereal, kissing you tenderly over the kitchen table. That would happen when he woke up, he told himself. Because you loved him. Tonight, just tonight, you loved him. He felt so safe in your arms, so happy in his temporary delusion, that he fell asleep almost instantly, but not before he had one final thought. I love you too.

As you felt his arm and body go slack, finally asleep, you drew in closer, resting your head on his back. Gently, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, and hoped he would have sweet dreams, ones where he did what made him happy.

In the morning, he woke before you, as usual, and felt horrendously embarrassed. He should have just told you last night that he needed to study, and that you could see each other tomorrow. Instead, he had shown you something he didn't want to. Did you think less of him? In the harsh light of the morning, his bullheaded, hopeful belief that that you loved him seemed laughable. Silly, even. Pathetic. The anger toward his father was all that was left in his heart, the sadness having morphed into something vengeful overnight.

Not to mention the fact that he was definitely in breach of your arrangement. He was not being honest with you about how he felt, and it was time to talk to you about ending this, for both your sakes. You rooming situation was complicated enough as it was, he didn't need to add his stupid crush into the mix. What if it made you uncomfortable? How could he justify his presence in your arms every night when his motive was something sinister. To get in your pants, like some freak. Pathetic. He shook away his father's voice. But he had to tell you how he felt, before one of you got hurt.

He extricated himself from you as best he could and dragged his sorry ass into the kitchen. Even though she was usually across campus at this time, Gwen stood in the kitchen, eating some pizza directly from the fridge. He threw her a greeting and pulled out his tub of Greek yogurt, which he instantly noticed was too light. It was nearly empty, and he hadn't bought a new one. Useless. He tossed the container in the garbage with unnecessary force, startling Gwen on the other side of the kitchen.

Sheepishly, he picked it out of the garbage. It was a recyclable. As he dutifully washed it out, his anger grew. The scalding water burned his hands, but the bite of it focused him. Whatever his failings last night, he had drawn one correct conclusion. He couldn't let his father dictate his every move. He could get what he wanted from him, and then leave his father alone the way he had done to Armitage for so many years. Once he had tossed out the container, he texted his father. I have decided I would like to pursue medical school. He didn't expect a response, really. But he knew that his father would read it. All that really mattered was his father paying for his education. After that, Brendol couldn't control his specialty, or residencies. He was going to be a clinical neurochemist, damnit, and his father couldn't stop him. His father probably wouldn't even notice.

Not that he didn't still fear his father, or that he suddenly stopped yearning for a "I'm proud of you, son," from him. But, he accepted with a resigned bitterness, that would probably never come. And when he wanted that approval, or affection, or anything, he had you. And Gwen and Kylo. And Millie. And that was enough, for now. But it really meant he couldn't fuck it up with you. If he lost you, and then his other roommates got weirded out, he wasn't sure where he'd turn. The guilt would eat him alive for ruining something so precious by thinking with his dick.

"You good?" Gwen asked him, noticing his outwardly unhinged behavior.

"Yeah, just. Parents," he mustered, and she nodded.

"I get it. I'm here, if you want to talk." He was touched, and nodded at her. Maybe he could really do this, rely on his little circle. They lapsed into silence again.

"You know, you should really do something about your feelings," Gwen remarked as she took a bite of her pizza. She knew him well enough to read the moment of panic that was covered by a schooled look of calm.

"What are you talking about?" Casual. Smooth. Unbothered.

"Your feelings. You know. Just tell her. Please. You are taking years off my life," she said as she rolled her eyes and stalked out of the kitchen. He was left standing there, letting his jaw drop when she turned her back. Shit, he needed to end the arrangement. If he was being this obvious, and you noticed, you'd surely feel betrayed that he didn't tell you. That he withheld something like that from you for months when you both explicitly agreed not to. He needed to talk to you, stat.

The only problem was that there was a party that night. He saw Gwen in leather pants and a silver top, and he instantly connected the dots. It was Friday. Shit. He threw on a button up, which he rolled up to his elbows, and passable slacks. Whatever. He didn't intend to stay longer than an hour, and then he had to find you and talk to you. When he left his room, Kylo was next to Gwen, wearing an oversized black bomber jacket over a black shirt and black jeans. The guy certainly had a look, Armitage had to give him that.

"Okay, I'm ready!" You called from the hallway.

The dress hugged your curves in ways that made his mouth water, accentuating all the parts of you that he tried to deny existed. He traced the expanse of your legs with his gaze, all the way from your heels up to the hem of your skirt. Before looking you in the eye, he stopped and admired your collarbone, and the faintest bit of glitter you had rubbed on it. And the curve of your neck. Gods, he could write a book about it. You had pinned your hair back in some way that he found baffling, but managed to make your features sharper, more dangerous.

So, basically, he thought you looked hot. The dress, in truth, was a bit too small. It rode up on the bottom, and the top kept slipping down whenever you lifted your arms. But no one, even you, could deny that you looked like a total smokeshow in it.

Gwen gave Armitage three seconds to process and internally drool before she started ushering you and Kylo through the door and down the hall to Finn's place. Outside your room, the bass from the party echoed through the walls, and the air was just a bit muggy from the swarm of people inside their living room. You and Gwen dashed off to greet Finn, leaving Kylo and Armitage, God help him, to mingle. Kylo made eye contact with him, and they both instantly headed to the drinks. Armitage fought his way through the crowd, feeling the pulse of the beat and the sweat in the air. After bumping into a couple almost making out, he murmured an apology and kept winding his way to his goal. Kylo just barreled through the dancing bodies, not even apologizing for almost knocking over a rather tipsy girl and her friend. Finally, they reached the kitchenette, which gave them a decent view of the entire living room, crammed full of drunk people. Armitage immediately searched the room for you, ready to find you and tell you that, actually, this was a mistake, and he wanted to go home now please. After about a minute (and a shot that Kylo had shoved in his face), he found you, with Gwen, talking to Finn. And then, oh joy of joys. 

Who would join you guys but Mitaka? Little Dopheld with his little crush on you? Armitage sneered in his direction. Not that he had any right to be possessive, he admitted. But still. Armitage was not leaving any time soon. He'd stay here until you left. Mitaka approached you, waving as the three of you added him into the conversation. Kylo had gone off to hang out with one of his acquaintances from the swim team--some tall girl with brown hair and freckles--leaving Armitage alone to seethe in the kitchen. He watched as you and Gwen laughed at something hilarious Mitaka had said. Awesome. Great. Then, the four of you turned to one of the bedrooms, and slipped into it. You lagged behind, searching the room for something. When you spotted Armitage, you waved at him, beckoning him across the oppressively loud room with a hand. He dove back into the crowd, pushing past groups of friends and couples and strangers as he found his way back to you. You cast him a smile that made the anger gripping him loosen just a bit. When you grabbed his hand and started dragging him into the bedroom, he melted, leaving his frustration behind.

The room had its floor cleared, with all the people in the room sitting in a large circle, or, rather, a lopsided oval. He wasn't quite sure why, or what was going on (Cult intiation? Drinking game?), but you sat down next to Gwen, pulling Armitage next to you. He dug his fingers into the thin, scratchy carpet when Mitaka and Gwen switched places, putting Mitaka directly to your left. Perfect. He shot a murderous look at Gwen, who had on a shit-eating grin. She knew what she was doing, and Armitage vowed to crush all her protein bars and unscrew her showerhead the next morning. Across the circle, he heard Kylo's distinct chuckle, and turned to give him the same violent look.

It appeared that they were playing some game, the exact rules of which weren't explained. Was it spin the bottle? A handsome man, Poe, he surmised from the way Finn was looking at him, spun the bottle, and it landed on Kylo. Kylo then crawled into the center and spun it. Anticipation filled the room as the light glinted over the edges of the bottle once, twice, thrice. It slowed, landing on that girl from the swimming team. Rey something. Would they kiss? That'd mean this was spin the bottle. Armitage wondered absently, his eyes still focused on you and Mitaka. Instead of just a chaste kiss, Kylo stood up and pulled Rey into the walk-in closet with a devilish grin. Ah. Seven minutes in heaven. Classic.

But fuck, you were playing. Which meant you could get into a closet with any one of these random people. Or, with a probability of 1/13, you could get him. That thought made his skin flush. You and him, in a dark closet. He imagined your hands trailing everywhere, exploring the parts of each other that your arrangement prohibited. Your skin, warm under his as he kissed along your neck. A series of cheers interrupted his fantasy, as he watched Kylo and Rey stumble out of the closet with matched blown pupils and dazed smiles. He whispered something to her, and she smiled. The pair made their exit when the crowd's cheers died down, and their attention had been drawn by the next victims. Armitage realized that the probability that you would kiss him, or do anything else except stand there awkwardly, if you were chosen, was so slim it was laughable. Pathetic, a voice echoed. Poe spun the bottle again, and Armitage started to wonder how many more spins it would take for you to get bored and finally leave so that the two of you could go home. Another spin, another couple. Mitaka whispered something to you which made you grin wolfishly, some piece of gossip that lit up your eyes. Armitage bristled. Just one more spin, and then he'd suggest leaving. Poe's hand spun the bottle, and Armitage was too busy looking at you and trying to estimate whether Mitaka was closer to you than he was, when the bottle made its choice.

It was you. You looked up at Poe, seeming to have forgotten the fact that you were playing in the first place. You glanced at Armitage, your features tightly drawn in nervousness, as you crawled to the center of the floor and spun the bottle. The bottle's glass made soft noises as it brushed against the carpet. Shk shk shk shk shk. Armitage counted the spins, 5 so far, and mentally calculated that 1/13 meant a 7.7% chance it would land on him, odds that he realized he probably wouldn't beat. Behind his back, he crossed his fingers, with one hand at first, but then with both hands. Shk shk shk. The bottle was slowing, creeping around the circle. He found himself praying. To whom, he wasn't sure. But he was praying. Shk shk. The bottle was barely turning, and, to his delight, it was turning toward him. Slowly, but surely, he was looking down the neck of the bottle. But then it kept going. Right past him, right past you.

And it landed on Mitaka.

Motherfucker.

[joskriverdaily]

Josephine Skriver | Backstage 3.1 Phillip Lim, Fall 2011.

[cornus27florida]

I think all three of the Plaid brothers share the blame for the engagement fiasco. Blaine for admitting that Gwen doesn’t meet his standards for beauty and Lance for admitting that they made Frederick go through with courting Gwen. Frederick fell for Gwen for real but of course he didn’t realize she overheard him.

That's true, all of the three Plaid Princes are share the blame for the engagement fiasco - but imho the blame actually for all parties involved. Which means even Pastel Princesses in wrong on some parts too. Like what Jamie said in ep 155 (although in different context, BUT Gwen eat poisoned apple is the result of engagement fiasco) "it was a bit of everyone's fault" -> Please, the following wall of text are not character bashings btw, I just tell honest canon facts from my personal opinion - and pointing out some canon things that might be forgotten by fandom. There's so many hates and bashings toward certain characters and I am intend to peace it out

You are right about the engagement fiasco as part of Plaid Princes' fault, but the reactions of Pastel Princesses are also the part of the fiasco. Why I said that, here the following:

Blaine painted himself as a hypocrite when trying to vouch for Frederick, and indirectly tell Gwen is ugly (quote: stop being absurd, Maria! You two are ACTUALLY beautiful)

Maria is stunned after that and called him the one with ugly side (hypocrite) - this is true BUT this also the leading point where Blaine fell harder to the darkness side, he becomes so cold he calls Gwen ugly again later around prison cell (oh, and his mockery to Frederick too). Blaine later on tricking Maria to opening the door, which make the invasion could happen, Leland's "not so nice plan" begin comes in the motion. The fiasco is the trigger to stop the "nice way" plan completely

Let's move to Lance and Lorena. Lance is a dumb goof without tact - so when he helps to vouch for Frederick (about his love devotion to Gwen) - I take that his saying of "forced" actually unintentional, like at ep 24 where he accidentally painted Frederick in bad light as someone that took too long in the loo. Lance actually means to highlighting the 'carried Laverne several times to see Gwen'-but he's honestly kinda distant with Frederick as brothers and still thought that Frederick forced to do those things by their father. This is not true as we the one with reader had the narrative to know the truths BUT the characters aren't yet. Lorena along with Maria getting mad (rightfully indeed) about the implication of forced love between Frederick and Gwendolyn = Frederick's love to Gwen not genuine - when in reality it's the opposite. Lorena is the hard headed one from the Pastel siblings, and she is also the one that calls Frederick as the monster. This likely the one that make to Lance completely mute (likely thinking that words aren't good as he believes he can't explain things well) at the Frederick's prison cell, and had wrong thinking that the best way is going along with Leland's plan - as 'supporter' to the invasion plan

Let's move to the last couple which (my OTP) the green pair Frederick/Gwendolyn, before I like to apologize to kinda out of trail by also pointing out the implications of the engagement fiasco BUT I find it's important to highlighting implicit message from the CPC: everything that happened isn't merely coincidence, it's happen for reasons

Frederick fell for Gwen for real but of course he didn’t realize she overheard him -> I want to pointing out that I disagree with the notion. Frederick has inkling of the idea that something is wrong with Gwen especially with how often she put 'fake smiles' with hint of sadness. He try to learn the truth along with coincidentally to be fell in love with her genuinely - which clearly shown at Jamie's Art Show where he confronting Gwen (ep 106) with this : " Did I do something to hurt you when we first met? " -> this means Frederick already had inkling idea that he hurts Gwen somehow when he first met her, but he's not sure about what exactly so he asks Gwen about it directly. He didn't realize (or, aware) that Gwen hides under the table and hears everything. He believes that talk only known by Blaine, and then extended to his own family as got telly talled the next day (ep 16). Remember how shocked the expression of he is that even shaking at ep 132 when he realizes that Gwen overhears him?

Frederick's confrontation at ep 106 isn't leads or 'forced' on by anyone, it's come from his conscience after the CPC intruder arc - that previously missed chance at Gwen's dinner party because Gwen fell asleep early. In that conscience, as hyper aware person - he connects the hint dots as interacted with the CPC. The CPC aware of his (initial) feelings, and attacking him for it - means there's mistake that he He didn't know exactly but very close about it.

Let's see Prez quote to Frederick at ep 85!

"You've got real nerve thinking that being chummy with her will atone you of everything you've made her through" -> after that Frederick in total confusion about what's Gwen going trough, because we know freddolyn is a pairing with abysmal communication as the crown queen is Gwen by making her confrontation to just want to be friend becomes to sounds like a threat to haunting Frederick forever. Later on Frederick knows the complete truth in Whitney's slumber party, but again it's thanks to the CPC not Gwen.

Gwen is very sweet and the kindest girl indeed, but she isn't perfect as if I could say her ultimate flaw is her abysmal communication skill. Shortening up words that totally make different meaning. Putting up fake smiles and hiding the truths, it's only thanks to the CPC that she begins open up and telling her problems. Gwen also dislike confrontations and believe certain truths is well keep hidden which leads to the whole CPC story: how she didn't want to ruin her sisters engagements because her paired prince didn't want her, how she suddenly meets the CPC as the result of she's running at the haunted forest while crying when her family members are thought that she just going to the bed, and how she believes that if Frederick never knows the truth forever - it's the only way for their happily ever after (that's not true + unhealhtly)

Back at "the engagement fiasco", which also the perfect ultimate example of 'bad-poor communication kills' troupe (https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/PoorCommunicationKills). It's happened as waffle note papers raining down to the rose hall at the end of the gala during the Proposals. Frederick learns the truth in the worst possible way, he's hurting so much - as well Gwen.. I am gonna to focus solely to them in the following paragraphs....

Gwen quickly come on his defense right before her sisters ready to attacking Frederick, then she's explaining that she knows about ugly mockery already. This shocking everyone espc Frederick. After that, Frederick hurriedly come to Gwen and apologize (as now, he knows the context). Then her sisters asked why Gwen never tell about it to them and why she defending Frederick. Gwen explains that the last thing she wants is to ruins her sisters happiness (because she knows if her sisters know the truth, they called off their own engagements immediately) - and she believes that she and Frederick gotten to know each other better UNTIL she see her own reflection at the glasses floor of the rose hall.

Then her negative hallucinations come full force, and she begins to get delusions - believing that the girls that called her "ugly duckling" is right with how hideous she looks at reflection. Right at previous ep, 131-Gwen totally anchoring her whole well being to Frederick's love with the quote :

"I don't care if I'm an ugly duckling like those girls said... ... because Prez was right. She doesn't transform into a beautiful swan at the end of the story. She just dicovers her own beauty. ...And my beauty exist... ...in Frederick's eyes"

So as she get sudden shocking situation of engagement fiasco, she's frozen and totally not know what to do. She can't communicating properly as well, so instead telling that the gala guests called her ugly duckling - she tells that (previous) Frederick is right about her being ugly while crying...

Frederick right after that quickly approaching her and tell "No, Gwen you're wrong! I think you're beautiful".. Then her sisters shuushing Frederick by screaming him as monster.

As Gwen anchoring her self to Frederick's love, this becomes unhealthly of "I need him". Her sisters try to calms her down with Lorena says that Gwen didn't need anyone (like Frederick) to tell her as beautiful - Gwen just need to looking at the mirror. Then Gwen says that her sisters won't understand (sadly it's true, because the one that truly will understand what's Gwen going through is Lilyth as her mother and experienced something similar - been called as ugly, one is by the loved one's family while the other by the romantically loved one self in the past) that her reflection totally shattered (shameless promotion but please at least read ch 7 of my fic that explain more about feeling shattered : https://archiveofourown.org/works/51450922/chapters/130267924#workskin because the "shattered" topic is heavy ).

We then have Frederick absolutely broken in wreck, falling and crutching at his head - and totally frozen to can give any response after that. Then we get the following fiasco between Maria and Blaine, Lance and Lorena - which make Gwen ever more sad (please... Anything but this). Princesses go with broken hearts. The Princes stuck in the Rose Hall - and their father comes from behind and telling that the engagement indeed scheme for Plaid Kingdom. We get absolute angsts as the ending of season 4 part 1 - "yay~". Cheers with the glass filled by own tears

And at the end (epilogue) - remember that, even with how heartbreaking that fiasco is that resulting to heartbreaks for the Pastel Princesses and punishments for the Plaid Princes.. The ultimate goal for Isolde make the engagement fiasco with waffle note happen BECAUSE she wants the Pastel Princesses to be protected within their own castle - which gives some home advantages like Lorena's project and the Pastel Maid Ensemble AND basically the help from the CPC that warned by Frederick could kinda come in right time. Another unintentional goal for the fiasco is to give truth bomb to Frederick and Gwendolyn, as the latter planned to never tell the truth to her romantically loved one - which might make the history of Jack/Lilyth relationship (loving with secrets) - be on repeat = not to make unhealthly romantic relationship on repeat. Harsh indeed, but sadly and unfortunately is necessary action to do. Isolde didn't trusts her own sons because Leland make her so separated and stoic to them in the name of "royal way".

Could it (the engagement fiasco) go differently, without crushing the hearts of Pastel Princesses and Plaid Princes got punished tragically? Yes, in alternate universe maybe. Like what-if Isolde trusts her own sons more and believes they're capable to break free from Leland? How I wish for multiple time if things go differently (like, I have an altenative universe scenario where Frederick learn the truth after the gala from the CPC, then he sent letter that explicitly should be opened with Gwen and her siblings to shows that yes he's an idiot in the past but now he truly loves her - and he's hurt with how Gwen kept the truth from him, but as they are love each other he's willing to trust Gwen again as long as from now on - she's completely honest with him so if he ever do any mistake again, he could make amends for it)

The closing image is kinda of burn salve for the fiasco pains

[emesedolluniverse]

Gwen enjoying the sunset with some blossoming flowers.

Lillycat chibbi K-Loo

[ivaleelovesmerlin]

Happy birthday, Rou!

I hope you’ve had a lovely day!  And I hope the coming year is a fantastic one for you.  I wish I was better at keeping in touch with friends, but I thought I could at least keep up this tradition and write you a little story for your special day!  And since we’re celebrating 10 years since Merlin’s finale, I figured an Arthur returns story was fitting.  :-)  Wishing you all the best!

“Merlin.”

Merlin jerked awake, heart pounding.  Was that Kilgharrah calling him?  He turned his head and peered into the darkness, his sleepy brain acclimating to his surroundings.  He let out a sigh and slumped into the mattress.  Of course.  He was in his own room in his own house on the small piece of property that he had owned for nearly 300 years.  Every few decades, he would change his name and age and pass the property down to a “distant relative.”  It was almost time for that process to begin again.

Yawning and rubbing his face, Merlin got up and headed to the toilet.  He had simply dreamed about Kilgharrah again.  Three times in the last month, he had been awakened to the voice of the long gone dragon calling his name.  For several years after both Arthur and Kilgharrah died, Merlin had dreamt of being summoned by the great dragon.  Back then, he would leap from his bed, excited that the voice had been a sign of Arthur’s return.  He had travelled to the lake of Avalon so often during those years that the queen had to sit him down and remind him that his new Court Sorcerer duties were more important than chasing ghosts.  Merlin leaned over the sink to wash his hands and stared into the mirror, eyes straining in the darkness to see his wrinkled and craggy face under the shock of white hair.  Gwen was long gone, as well.  Dead for over a thousand years.  So why could he still picture her smile when he couldn’t even remember what he’d had for lunch yesterday?

He reached for his glass and held it under the running water.  Two small sips was all he allowed himself, though.  Didn’t want to wake up again in half an hour needing the loo.  It really was time to magically restore his youth.  He enjoyed the leeway he got from the community as an eccentric elderly gentleman, but this old body was a pain.  Or more like twenty different pains all over, ranging from vaguely annoying to persistent torment.

Merlin eased himself back into bed, hoping sleep would come easily.  He wasn’t sure why he was dreaming of Kilgharrah again after all these years, unless it was just his subconscious telling him it was time for a reset.  He thought he might skip straight to his thirties this time, though.  He could come to town as an established doctor, ready to move into his great uncle’s house and treat patients in the local hospital.  He had seen the local twenty-somethings preening about town constantly filming their every move and decided he definitely wouldn’t fit in with them.  He had no desire to learn what a “tick tock” was.

*****

“Merlin.”

A month later, he was awakened again by the voice of the dragon calling him.  He sat up abruptly, which was much easier to do in his newly youthful body.  Something about Kilgharrah’s call was different this time.  It felt more urgent.

In the years since Arthur’s death, magic had faded from the earth.  As far as Merlin knew, he was the only sorcerer still in existence.  Of course, there were those around the world who had the potential, and they probably noticed a few oddities here and there.  Prophetic dreams or lucky moments they could chalk up to coincidence.  But as far as the conscious use of magic, Merlin was alone.  He’d used his magic throughout the years to help people in small ways when he could, but even his own power had decreased.  It took all the magical energy he had to make himself young last month.  He couldn’t use his magic for days afterward, even for something as simple as boiling water for his tea.

But in this moment, he felt his magic humming throughout his body like it had in his actual youth.  When Arthur was still alive.

Throwing on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, Merlin bounded out of his house and down to the lake.  He felt more energetic than he had in centuries, barely noticing the scenery along his well-worn path to the road and then down to the edge of the water.  He stood, peering into the thin fog covering the lake’s surface.  He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he watched the movement of the fog over the water until he realised he was holding his breath. He calmed himself and then sat on a large stone to think about Arthur.  Merlin pictured his face.  Remembered his laugh.  He smiled as he thought about all the teasing and the jokes they had shared.  He closed his eyes, focusing until he could almost hear Arthur’s tender voice.  The voice reserved for those moments of doubt when he turned to Merlin for reassurance.  That he was doing well.  That he was worthy to be king and to rule his people.  Merlin’s magic bubbled within him so much that he thought he might look down to see his skin shimmering.  He was almost certain that certain memories were making his eyes blaze gold.

Two hours passed and Merlin started to wonder if tonight was really the night.  Something was definitely happening as his magic swelled in power inside him, but perhaps this feeling was only the beginning.  Perhaps he had to do something to bring Arthur back.  Cast a spell or brew a potion or uncover a magical object that would trigger Arthur’s return.  He wished he had some sort of guide.  Something besides the disembodied voice of an always cryptic and rarely helpful dragon, that is.

As daylight began to dawn, Merlin decided to head back to his house to get some sleep and later he could pull out the notes he had copied down long ago before Gaius’s books on the old religion began to fade and fall apart.  He had pored over those texts hundreds of times, looking for any clues that might explain Kilgharrah’s prophetic message that one day, Arthur would return again.  Merlin had found no mention in any of the ancient texts, either from Gaius or from other sources he had tracked down over the years, of a king returning from the dead or of bringing someone back properly from death.  So he had assumed the magic of Avalon would return Arthur on its own when the time was right.  He simply had to wait.

As Merlin walked slowly up the road toward his home, his palms tingled and his tummy fluttered.  These feelings had to mean something.  He had not felt this way in literally hundreds of years.  And it wasn’t just the magical power rising within him.  Thinking about seeing Arthur again was making him positively giddy.  He felt the same way he had as a teenager with his first crush on a boy.  The way he felt when he first started to fall for Arthur.  All jittery and flustered.  He was having a hard time focusing on anything other than seeing Arthur’s smile and feeling his arms around him.  Merlin laughed.  He thought that sort of heady, newly in love feeling was long behind him.  He couldn’t stop smiling as he turned onto the path toward his house.  Even if this was just the beginning of a process of bringing Arthur back, Merlin was filled with hope for the first time since, on the way to Avalon, Arthur had collapsed into his arms and told him it was too late and his magic couldn’t save him.

Merlin was reaching for his doorknob when he heard a voice.

“Merlin.”

Goosebumps erupted down his arms and legs.  This time the voice wasn’t Kilgharrah’s calling to him in a dream.  This was Arthur’s voice.  And it was right behind him.

Merlin whipped around and there he stood.  His golden king.  His best friend.  Merlin couldn’t breathe.  Was this real?  Was Arthur really standing in Merlin’s garden path in chainmail in the year 2022?  A sob bubbled from Merlin’s throat and he took one hesitant step forward.

“Arthur?”  His voice was barely above a whisper.

Arthur’s eyes twinkled and his face broke into that dazzling smile that Merlin adored.  They stared, grinning at each other for several long seconds, and then Arthur opened his arms wide and, all hesitancy gone, Merlin bounded forward into those arms and wrapped his own around Arthur’s waist, clinging tightly to his finally risen king.