#i actually am so so enamoured with him good lord

[baeshijima]

everyone, i genuinely believe that sunday is one of — if not the most handsome character in hsr, and possibly even in across all of the hyv games bc ???

and then there is this.

like. what the fuck man.

[leviathanswingman]

dear lucifer; dear diavolo

pairing: DiaLuci

rating: explicit

words: 13886

chapters: 1/1

summary:

"Diavolo,

This letter shall never reach you, as it is nothing more than a way to express these bewildering thoughts that have been plaguing my mind as of late... Diavolo, in spite of everything and even more so, in spite of myself, I seem to have fallen enamoured with you."

“Lucifer…” Diavolo started, his voice uncharacteristically soft and careful. “I don’t think I understand. Won’t you enlighten me as to why you addressed such a letter to me?” Lucifer's heart stopped in his chest. “What was your intention?”

Lucifer gets drunk and writes a love letter to Diavolo to get it all out of his system. Through a series of unfortunate events, the letter ends up getting published by Mephistopheles.

“Lucifer, would you lend me an ear for a moment?”

Simeon sat down on the couch, patting the empty space right next to him. Lucifer let out a breath but still sat down, one leg crossed over the other, keeping a good amount of space between them. The moment Simeon had invited him over to Purgatory Hall for tea he'd known that something was up.

“I suppose so. What is this about?” he asked while reaching for the teapot standing on the coffee table. “Have my brothers been causing you trouble again?” he added nonchalantly, yet the slight furrow to his brow betrayed his otherwise calm exterior.

Simeon quickly waved his hands in front of his face. “Oh no, not even in the slightest! As far as I can tell, they’ve been behaving quite well!” For a moment, he stopped talking. He pushed his hair behind his ear, lost in thought as he let his eyes wander across the teacup. “Actually, I wanted to talk about someone else, if I’m being honest.”

“And who might that be?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Lord Diavolo,” Simeon then said carefully. “There is something I wanted to confirm with you. I do apologize in advance, I know this might be a bit uncomfortable for you to talk about, but I believe it's necessary. I have been keeping an eye on you and I cannot help but worry.”

Simeon held up his teacup and Lucifer poured in tea for him, remaining silent. The fresh scent of green tea began to waft through the room.

“This is about?” he asked after a moment.

“The nature… of your relationship, would be the best way to put it, I think,” Simeon answered and was immediately met with silence, followed by another heavy sigh. Lucifer sat down his teacup and pushed his hair out of his face.

“Have my brothers put you up to this? For the love of everything unholy, how often do I have to tell them-”

“I’m sorry,” Simeon prefaced as he interrupted Lucifer. “Your brothers have no hand in this, I am here out of my own free will. I am not mocking you, nor am I trying to tease you right now. I simply worry about your wellbeing. I’ve made some observations of my own and would like to hear your thoughts on them. Will you indulge me this once?”

Simeon put down his teacup and placed one hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. When he felt the demon freeze at his touch, he quickly pulled back, placing his hand back in his own lap instead. For a second a conflicted expression clouded his handsome features. “Are you sure you don’t favour him?” he then asked without prior warning.

Lucifer looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “You want to know whether I favour Diavolo or not?” he repeated.

“Exactly.”

For a moment, he remained silent. Lucifer was considering his next words carefully. “Romantically?”

“Of course.”

Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows. “Well I certainly don’t-” he started before stopping in his tracks, apparently taking a moment to gather himself. He took another heavy breath and then gave a much more collected answer. “There is nothing for me to favour, since he is the Devildom’s crown prince. I believe my sentiments are entirely irrelevant, no matter which way you turn it.” Although his words sounded sensible enough, it was clear that they were learned and rehearsed to perfection.

Simeon tilted his head as he watched his friend. “What was that?” he asked. There was no fooling him. The way Lucifer was dodging the question was painfully apparent to him. After all, there was nobody else who knew him quite as well, and there were certain things even a fall from the heavens wouldn’t be able to change.

“What was what? That little moment right there,” he kept insisting. “If I’m not mistaken, you just did that thing you always do. You pushed something back.”

Lucifer straightened his back and stared Simeon down. “Now why would I feel compelled to do something like that?” he asked, his tone icy. There was something in his expression that made Simeon want to dig deeper. “There is nothing for me to ‘push back’.”

“Lucifer, you have never known how to deal with relationships outside of your professional life, let alone how to allow yourself to be happy and at peace.” He put down his cup of tea.

Lucifer inhaled sharply, raised one finger and opened his mouth as if to retaliate. Shortly after he closed his mouth again, taking a sip of his tea before putting down the cup.

“I don’t ever-” he started, voice furious.

“But am I wrong?” Simeon suddenly threw in. “I may not have Lord Diavolo’s gift when it comes to telling a truth from a lie, but I’d like to think I know you well enough to be able to tell regardless. Let me be frank with you. Ever since the day you met him, you have made exception after exception for that man. You bowed down before him, yet remain of equal standing despite it all. He bends over backwards to keep you by his side. It is obvious that he’s quite taken with you. What’s so scary about taking it one step further when you’re already halfway there?”

For a moment, Lucifer simply looked at him. Sure, there had been signs here and there, little behaviours Diavolo tended to show that crossed the lines of their carefully crafted boundaries. Recently, Diavolo had started to use an old voice recording of Lucifer scolding him as his new alarm. Despite himself, Lucifer had flushed at the realization that for some reason, his voice seemed to be the first thing Diavolo wanted to hear when he woke up. It was as baffling as it was infuriating.

His posture relaxed ever so slightly, his head dropped down as he ran his hands across his forehead, massaging his temples. “I shouldn't-,” he started, then quieted down for a moment, reconsidering his words. “I cannot allow myself to even entertain such sentiments, you should know that better than anyone else.” He was back to massaging his temples. Then, he continued and there was no need for Simeon to prompt him anymore. “I am aware of his…advances. One would have to be both blind and a fool to ignore them. Still, even if I wasn’t his right hand man, there would be nothing for me to pursue. He's our crown prince.”

“I think you should give him more credit than that.”

“And yet I won't,” he replied coolly. This was a sensitive topic he would prefer not to think about for longer than necessary, but Simeon just had to storm in and rip open a wound that had been carefully stitched shut. Lucifer was tired of it all. “Diavolo needs me, that is true. Perhaps, he even wishes for me to be by his side. But do not misunderstand. He doesn’t want me.”

“You think he doesn’t want you in the same way you do?”

Lucifer’s face contorted and he picked up the empty cup of tea, staring down into the leftover leaves. “If you insist on continuing this conversation I'm going to need something far stronger than this.”

Simeon threw him a concerned look. “Drowning your sorrows won't solve your problems and you know that.”

Lucifer tutted his teeth in reply and Simeon hummed. “Alright, I think I still have a few bottles of Demonus left in the fridge.”

“My Lord,” Barbatos began. “Excuse my insolence, but do you finally plan on pursuing the one you fancy?”

Diavolo almost choked on his biscuit, coughing violently. “Barbatos?!” He pounded his fist against his chest, trying to breathe again.

“It's been years, Young Master. Don't you think it's time for you to secure your match?”

Diavolo’s eyes were almost comically big, his cheeks dusted red.

“There must be a misunderstanding,” he started, laughing awkwardly. “How did you even assume that I have someone in mind for that kind of endeavour?”

“You are many things, but inconspicuous is not one of them, My Lord. You shan't keep him waiting any longer. Perhaps he will continue waiting for you, but I don't think it will be beneficial to his health.”

“Him? Who has been waiting for me? I fear I do not understand what you’re getting at, Barbatos. Please speak freely.”

Barbatos poured Diavolo a cup of coffee to prepare him for the bomb he was about to drop. He was aware that his Young Lord still hadn't caught on to his own feelings yet, but enough was enough. He had given him ample time to do so by himself. There was only so much Barbatos was willing to observe over the years. Perhaps a push was what was needed.

“Lucifer, of course,” he stated simply, a small smile on his lips. “Who else would I be referencing?”

“Lucifer?!” Diavolo repeated in disbelief. “Now, now, Barbatos. This must be a misunderstanding. You believe I fancy Lucifer?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“To a degree where I would undoubtedly approach him with romantic intent?”

“Exactly so, my liege. You may correct me if I’m wrong, but have you not been doing so already?”

A caught expression ghosted over Diavolo’s face. “How did you arrive at that conclusion, if I may wonder?” he asked quietly. “I have always believed that my intent towards Lucifer has come off as nothing but pure.”

Barbatos, who for once had agreed to sit opposite him, folded his hands and leaned forward. “Young Master, when you first met him you wouldn’t talk about anything or anybody else. Only his fall and pledge of allegiance have calmed that certain habit of yours. You talk about him like one would talk about their spouse.”

Diavolo shifted in his seat, his thumb rising to his lips. “I never intended for my actions to be interpreted in such a way.”

“Sometimes, intentions and wants are closely intertwined, even if one isn’t aware of them.”

Diavolo lifted his head and faced him. “Barbatos, I fear I will have to disagree with you on this for once.”

Barbatos sighed quietly. “Young Master. Shall I put you to a little test then? Lucifer’s personality, how would you describe it?”

“His personality?” For a moment, Diavolo seemed taken aback. He lowered his head and allowed his mind to wander. “Well, he is awe striking and dignified, a demon of true grandeur. He is gifted in both speech and action. Although he appears stoic, he does have a bleeding heart for his family. His -”

Barbatos lifted his hands before he could keep going. “ That should suffice. And his appearance?”

“I hardly see how his appearance should matter right now.”

“Young Master, please humour me.”

“Obviously, he is the most handsome man the Devildom has ever seen. Both his aura and presence are truly beautiful. But that is hardly a secret.”

Barbatos simply hummed. “Do you hear yourself, Young Master?”

Diavolo looked at him with a conflicted expression, his mouth open and eyes wide. Then, he dropped his head into his hands. “I fear I do,” he groaned after a moment. Barbatos patted his back sympathetically. “Say, what am I supposed to do now?”

RAD breaking news! Lord Diavolo’s secret brooding admirer? Anonymous letter writer urged to step forth!

Dearest Readers, the following letter has found its way into your trusty editor’s hands. It seems as if -to no one’s surprise- our very own crown prince has found himself a secret admirer. Truly, I am astonished it has taken this long for something like this to take place. After all there's no one who can hold a candle to him! Although a bit on the dramatic side, I myself cannot help being curious as to who would be this daring.

Who doesn’t love a tragic, one-sided romance?

Share your opinions, thoughts and concerns with yours truly, Mephistopheles. If you have any information about who the anonymous lovebird may be, call the RAD newspaper hotline or leave your suggestion in the bloody suggestion box.

PS: We bear no responsibility for possible injuries or deaths caused by the bloody suggestion box.

“Diavolo,

This letter shall never reach you, as it is nothing more than a way to express these bewildering thoughts that have been plaguing my mind as of late. In no way or form do I intend for this letter to reach the light of day. This remains between you and I and the horn of Demonus in my hand, for I am solely writing any of this down to clear my conscience and get rid of these daunting feelings which have taken me over. The “You” in question, of course, isn’t the real you. It is more of a concept, a supposed version of you which I will allow myself to share these sentiments with.

Diavolo, in spite of everything and even more so, in spite of myself, I seem to have fallen enamoured with you.

Of course, I am aware of how foolish a thing it is, but no effort of mine has been big enough to smother these flittish feelings at their core. Not once have I planned to burden you, yet somehow here I am.

So I will put it down in writing, just this once: I have fallen in love with you, and as much as I cannot justify it, I seem to have made up my mind already. Thick-headed as I am, there is nothing to change the fact. To think that I would display behaviours of such childish nature, how preposterous.

Falling in love puts you at a disadvantage which I cannot afford. I have always seen it this way, have I not?

All that is left to do is hide these feelings of mine until they become nothing more than a fleeting thought, a minuscule distraction perhaps. A pearl in its clam, sitting at the bottom of the ocean, barely perceived but appreciated for its beauty nonetheless.

This is nothing more than an acknowledgment of my feelings. A way to be finished with all of this, for both our greater goods. A way for me to admit what I shall never live down. A way to admit that even though your actions can be infuriating and quite often, you're a headache to be around, you have caught me in quite the predicament. For my biggest failure lies in the way my breath catches when your brilliance and charm come to show, and I find myself breathless in the face of your regality once more.

I look next to me and there you stand, a familiar shoulder pressed into mine. The warmth you radiate scorches me at my very core yet I shall never dare reach out.”

Lucifer stared at the newspaper in his hands, frozen in place. The ruckus his brothers were causing at the breakfast table had long turned into nothing more than background noise.

For a moment, there was a certain kind of tranquillity in the air, the calm before the storm, until reality sat in again and sheets of paper creased under the grip of his tense fingers. It was about that article, that ever so cursed piece of literary waste that had somehow found its way into Mephisto’s grimy hands and, inevitably, onto the front page of RAD’s newspaper.

Truthfully, Lucifer was all too familiar with the piece Mephistopheles had published. And although his memory was admittedly muddy at best, for he was currently nursing a particularly nasty hangover and was barely able to recall the events of that evening, there was no denying that those words could be anyone else’s but his own. Perhaps drinking with Simeon had been a bad idea after all.

He read the article once, read it twice, skimmed it from beginning to end and gave it a disgruntled look. Perhaps throwing it in the fireplace would do him some good. Certainly it wouldn't help resolve the issue itself, but perhaps the action would offer him some much needed relief.

After all, to put it rather plainly, it was a letter of admiration, written in a moment of weakness at Simeon’s suggestion; a foolish love letter Lucifer had carelessly crafted in a moment of self-pity, fueled by three bottles of Demonus and aggravated by his troublesome week. It was a letter he had certainly intended to write, but that never should’ve seen the light of day.

Yet here it was, black on white, in pristine print. The only blessing was that Mephistopheles had taken the time to copy the letter instead of simply scanning the original. After all, both his brothers and colleagues were more than familiar with Lucifer’s penmanship. There would've been no way of denying that he was the author.

Like this however, there was still plenty of room for damage control.

Suddenly, Lucifer felt a familiar presence leering behind him, calm and collected, yet with an undeniable underlying volatility.

“Well look at that,” the young demon said, letting out a long drawn whistle. “Looks like you're finally getting some serious competition.”

Before Lucifer could turn around, Satan had already snatched the newspaper out of his hands.

“Have I not told you to cease these sort of jokes? I have no idea what you could possibly be getting at,” Lucifer grumbled as he lifted his cup and took a big sip.

“Diavolo. In spite of everything and even more so, in spite of myself, I seem to have fallen enamoured with you,” Satan repeated, putting on an overly dramatic tone of voice. “What do you say, is Lord Diavolo the type to fall for that?”

“Ooooh Satan, what do you have there? Did I just hear Lord Diavolo and love in the same sentence? Show me, show me!” Asmodeus put his chin on Satan’s shoulder and grappled for the newspaper himself. Satan offered it to Asmo, pointing at the article in question.

“Look at what Mephistopheles just published.”

For a moment there was silence as Asmodeus read the letter carefully, glossed lips mumbling every second to third word as he scanned the letter. A smile was starting to pull at the corners of his mouth.

Lucifer felt his fingers twitching, tempted to rip the newspaper out of their hands. However, yelling at his brothers for being interested in the letter would be far too obvious now, wouldn't it? So he bit his tongue, ground his teeth and waited for Asmodeus to be done.

Shortly after, Asmo looked up from the newspaper, his big eyes shining with glee. “Oh Satan, could you even imagine?” he started, a dreamy tone to his voice as he clasped his hands together. “A partner for Lord Diavolo? They must be so lucky!! Imagine being able to pull the next Demon King! I’m almost jealous!”

At that point, Lucifer felt ever so inclined to intervene. He uncrossed his legs, placed both elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Pray tell, Asmodeus. Why would you think a letter as foolish as this one could coax Diavolo into a relationship? Let’s not pretend that such carefree writing alone would be enough to make a demon as important as Diavolo develop deeper feelings. Based on his status alone, he cannot afford to engage in such childish acts of freedom. There is a time and place for everything, and this is most certainly out of line, don’t you think so?”

“Lucifer, come on! Would it hurt for you to be at least a tiny bit more romantic? You can't tell me you haven't noticed how lonely Lord Diavolo gets. ”

“It would only create more issues for both Barbatos and me in the long run.”

“Boo! You old spoilsport! It's about love! Love!! What could be more important or exciting than that?!”

“Work,” he suggested drily. “Securing the Devildom’s position. Keeping Barbatos sane,” he added on. “Do you need more suggestions? I have plenty.”

Asmo’s mouth pulled into a small pout. “You're no fun.”

“That I have been told before. How else would things get done in this family?”

Lucifer put down his cup of coffee and smoothed down his dress shirt. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was already time to leave. “I have to go. Barbatos and Diavolo are awaiting me on some pressing matter.” He'd received a call requesting his presence shortly after he’d woken up.

Asmo waved at him. “Ask Lord Diavolo about the letter for me!”

“I will not,” Lucifer grumbled back as Satan let out a loud cackle, slapping Asmo’s shoulder in delight.

Unluckily enough, that cursed letter seemed to be intent on haunting Lucifer further throughout his day. He arrived at the Demon Lord’s castle 5 minutes prior to their appointed meeting time, as per usual. Barbatos was already waiting for him at the door, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the halls.

“Good morning Lucifer,” he greeted.

“Barbatos. A good morning to you too. I take it you’re doing well?”

“Of course. The Young Master has already awoken, so let’s not keep him waiting for much longer. Shall we?”

Lucifer followed him to the tea room in comfortable silence. Before they entered, Barbatos stopped in his tracks, throwing him a side-glance.

“Perhaps I should warn you,” he started as he smoothed down his vest. “The Young Master has become quite taken with the idea of-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the door was pushed open with much enthusiasm. There was a big smile on Diavolo’s face as he greeted him with far too much energy considering the early hours.

“Lucifer, there you are! Come in quick! We have important things to discuss!”

Barbatos’ shoulders seemed to stiffen some more and Lucifer followed him inside, immediately suspicious. Diavolo’s little sparks of genius hardly ever promised good things.

As always, the table was already set and there were tea, coffee and amuse-bouches waiting for them. Diavolo plopped down on one of the chairs and waited for Lucifer to follow suit. Barbatos rounded the table to fill both their cups with coffee, preparing a third one for himself before allowing himself to sit down as well.

Just as Lucifer lifted the cup to his mouth, Diavolo began to lean forward, an excited smile on his face.

“So,” he began, the smile on his lips tender. “I am sure you’ve read the newest issue of RAD’s newspaper.”

Lucifer lowered his cup again, his expression wary. “I managed to catch a glimpse over my morning coffee before my brothers started to cause mayhem again. Why?”

Barbatos politely placed his hands in his lap. “Today’s breaking news were quite exciting for the Young Master,” he threw in. His face was directed towards Diavolo, but for a split second, he let his eyes stray back to Lucifer, who suddenly felt a dreadful sense of foreboding.

“Are you trying to tell me that appalling letter has caught your interest?”

Diavolo laughed gently. “That it has.”

The handle of the fine china cracked beneath Lucifer’s fingertips and Barbatos narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say another word.

“Why? It surely can’t be more than a letter filled with wishful thinking and nonsensical fantasies.”

“True as it may be, I still owe them an answer, don't you think so too?”

Lucifer shivered. “No, I do not.” He had to squash these nonsensical ideas before they evolved into something much worse. “It might as well be a ploy to isolate you. Who knows what that person's intentions are.”

Diavolo placed down his teacup. “Whether it's real or not is unimportant. Even if it's a simple ploy to assassinate me, don't you think it should still be looked into? And I believe if it were a threat against my person Barbatos would have spoken up already.”

Curses.

“That is correct,” Barbatos threw in. “I sense no evil intentions.” Interestingly enough, Lucifer thought his expression looked almost unhappy.

“That’s… a relief.”

Diavolo leaned closer towards Lucifer. “Barbatos, the newspaper please.” The butler handed it to him and Diavolo pointed at the printed letter. “Look at this line here. Don’t you think it implies I must know the author?”

Diavolo scanned the writing, his finger following each and every line until he found the one he'd been looking for. He pointed at it. Lucifer hardly wanted to read the letter a second time, yet he had no other choice.

I look next to me and there you stand, a familiar shoulder pressed into mine.

“I would hardly interpret it as a poet’s way of exercising their artistic freedom.”

“And how do you intend on finding that person?”

“Perhaps Mephistopheles knows more about it. He is the one who published it, after all.”

Mephistopheles.

Lucifer wished he could blame the demon for meddling once again. How had he gotten his grimy hands on it in the first place? Annoyingly enough, Lucifer still didn't remember much aside from getting incredibly drunk at Purgatory Hall, then stumbling home when he noticed Simeon was out cold on the couch. Once he was home, listening to Simeon’s advice and writing a letter to get everything out of his system suddenly sounded like a sensible idea. Perhaps he really should stop drinking.

“I must hear them out before letting them down kindly so they can move on. Isn't this exciting Lucifer? My first confession!”

Lucifer hated that sooner or later, someone would have to burst his bubble.

“Mephistopheles.” Lucifer was standing before his desk with crossed arms, his chin jutted out defiantly. Mephistopheles looked up at him with knit eyebrows, donning a discontent expression that he did not care to hide. With an annoyed huff, he leaned his cheek against his hand and mustered him from head to toe. “Lucifer. What gives me the displeasure?” he asked, his tone blasé.

Their interaction was just about as icy as he’d expected. After all, it was hardly a secret that they could not stand one another. Mephistopheles had hated Lucifer from the first moment he’d set eyes on him. The fact that Lucifer, disgraced as an angel, then distrusted as a demon, had somehow managed to become Diavolo's right hand man, a position Mephistopheles had been trying to secure for years, had put the last nail in the coffin. Lucifer on the other hand did not care for Mephisto’s attitude. His thoughtless devotion and almost aggressive loyalty reminded him of Michael, uncomfortably so. The fact that he had been openly volatile and borderline rude towards his brothers from the start certainly hadn't helped.

Lucifer tapped his foot impatiently. “Diavolo sends me.”

Mephistopheles immediately perked up. “Lord Diavolo? What does he need? Is my presence needed? If it is needed, then I-”

Before Mephisto could jump up from his seat, Lucifer lifted his hand in a rude manner, stopping Mephisto in his tracks.

He realized how tense his jaw was and unclenched it. “There’s no need for that. It’s about the letter you published. Diavolo wants to see the original.”

“The original? I assumed he already had a copy. It was between the documents you gave to me after all.”

So this was how he had gotten his hands on it. Lucifer had practically hand delivered the letter, served to Mephistopheles on a silver platter. Apparently his drunken self must have placed it on his stack of documents, already forgotten by morning since until this day, he did not remember any of it.

He cleared his throat. “He does not. I hardly deemed it important enough, considering how the author chose to remain anonymous.”

Mephistopheles tutted his tongue. “As expected. How arrogant of you to assume Lord Diavolo would see the issue the same way you do. I fail to comprehend how engorged your ego must be to support this sort of behaviour.”

Mephistopheles threw Lucifer a displeased glance, but he still opened the drawer at the bottom of his desk, thumbing through various documents before finally pulling out the letter.

Lucifer recognized the lettering paper almost immediately. His only saving grace was that Mephistopheles tended to avoid him like the plague and was thus unfamiliar with his writing and the stationary he preferred to use. Were it anybody else they would have recognized it straight away.

Lucifer did not thank him for his cooperation.

Mephistopheles pushed the document towards him. Before Lucifer could touch it however, he pulled it back again. “Do make sure Lord Diavolo gets it this time. I would prefer not to have you in my office a second time around,” he quipped.

“I was not the one who published an insignificant fan letter without permission,” Lucifer simply retorted.

“At least I wasn't the one who misappropriated it in the first place,” Mephistopheles bit back.

Lucifer ignored Mephisto’s last remark and left his office with nothing but a stiff goodbye. No matter how dignified Lucifer liked to present himself, his debates with Mephistopheles were unending in nature and admittedly, a bit embarrassing for either of them at their grown ages.

A few minutes into his walk back, his DDD rang and upon seeing that it was Diavolo calling, he picked up after the third ring.

There was no greeting needed. They had moved past the need for polite platitudes many decades ago. “Diavolo. Yes?”

“Mephistopheles just sent word that he gave you the letter. Do you perhaps have the time to bring it over? I would like to read it straight away.”

Inwardly, Lucifer let out a flurry of courses. Of course, Mephistopheles just had to call Diavolo so he could look good and tattle. As expected of him.

“Your opinion is important to me and you've always given me good advice,” Diavolo said slowly. “So if it won’t inconvenience you, I would like to request your presence as well.”

Originally, Lucifer had planned on getting rid of the letter, or at least doctoring with the writing, but now there was no other way out, was there?

“Haven't I already voiced my opinion on the matter? I don't see what my presence would be necessary for.”

“Lucifer,” Diavolo pleaded. “I simply wish for your presence by my side. Is that too much to ask for?”

“I suppose not, it's just…” That I do not wish to embarrass myself even further than I already have. He took an exhausted breath. “I will be there in half an hour. Do not expect me to sugarcoat my words.”

“Of course. Treat me as harshly as you see fit.” His warm laugh rang through the speaker and Lucifer had to swallow the incoming sense of dread. Wars and conflicts he could handle. Feelings however? It would be much easier if he had never gotten back in touch with them in the first place.

It didn't take him long to return to the Demon Lord’s castle. Barbatos seemed to be out on an errand, so he was greeted by a Little D that led him to one of Diavolo's chambers instead.

The door opened after a few knocks. Diavolo was lounging on his chaise longue and his expression lit up the moment he took note of Lucifer walking in. He greeted him warmly and beckoned him to step closer with a curl of his finger.

The letter, now placed in an unassuming envelope, felt like hot coal under Lucifer’s fingertips. For a moment, he considered his options. There was still time to accidentally drop it in the fireplace or fling it out of the window. For a moment, he humoured the thought. Still, that wouldn't change the fact that he had to face that there was no way out of this mess of his own doing. With gritted teeth, he had to admit his defeat.

“The letter,” he said calmly.

Diavolo sat up so he could reach out and Lucifer handed over the letter without much ado. Their hands brushed shortly.

“Are you certain about this?” he asked one last time, hoping Diavolo would return to his senses before it was too late, but the demon prince simply tilted his head and smiled. “As certain as I can be. Whoever wrote the letter did it at the perfect time.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Now why would that be?”

Diavolo scratched the back of his head in a sheepish manner. “Oh, it was simply something I previously discussed with Barbatos. Pay it no mind.”

“If you say so.” For now, he chose to drop the issue. There were much more important things to worry about.

Lucifer watched Diavolo's every move as he pulled the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it carefully, smoothing over the creases before beginning to read.

Lucifer saw the way his eyebrows pulled together almost immediately.

He desperately wished for the ground to swallow him whole. Still, he stayed where he was, his feet planted firmly on the ground, his back leaning against a shelf in a false show of relaxedness.

Diavolo shifted in his seat, then tilted his head to the side. “Uhm, say Lucifer. Did you by any chance… copy the letter by hand? Did it get damaged or were there any other issues I should be aware of?”

Lucifer refused to move. He kept his eyes fixed on the top of Diavolo’s head as he crossed his arms behind his back. “I did not alter the letter in any shape or form,” he answered calmly. For a moment, he allowed his gaze to slip. His eyes met Diavolo’s. “The letter is unchanged. Mephisto will surely be willing to attest to that,” he admitted.

The demon prince was looking at him with parted lips, his eyes blown wide open. The expression on his face was a mix of shock, disbelief and a third thing Lucifer found himself unable to interpret.

There was nothing else to say. After all, lying to Diavolo would be completely and utterly useless.

He hesitated, then straightened his stance further. “If my presence isn’t needed anymore I would like to take my leave now,” he stated, his tone of voice a carefully crafted thing. Perhaps leaving him no room to discuss would be the most sensible way to go.

Diavolo did not excuse him, but Lucifer still turned around to head towards the door. Less than three steps in, he felt a presence behind him, right before a hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Lucifer stared at the door in front of him and held back a sigh.

“Lucifer…” Diavolo started, his voice uncharacteristically soft and careful. “I don’t think I understand. Won’t you enlighten me as to why you addressed such a letter to me?” His heart stopped in his chest. “What was your intention?”

Lucifer turned back around, making sure to push off Diavolo’s hand that was still holding him back. “That letter…” Before he could continue, their eyes accidentally met. Diavolo looked conflicted enough for Lucifer to know that there were no options aside from damage control. Attempting to explain himself would be pointless.

That specific look was all he needed to be put back in his place. Perhaps being treated like an equal had spoiled him rotten.

“I never intended for you to read it,” he eventually settled on. The words left his lips slowly, carefully. “I would appreciate it if you could be generous enough to pay it no mind.” There was nothing left to do but respect their duties and play it down. The hopelessness of the situation was nothing new to him, so why should the confirmation he'd finally received change anything?

Diavolo pulled himself closer, his eyes an honest shade of gold as he watched him with questions in his eyes. “But doesn’t this sound like a-”

“Like a letter I wrote in a moment of inebriation? It is quite alright,” Lucifer cut in. Defensively, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and averted his gaze. “Allow me to apologize for overstepping. It was uncalled for and inappropriate.” His cheeks were burning with shame.

He nodded towards the letter. “Just throw it in the fireplace. If you don’t plan on doing it yourself you can just hand it over and I will do so in your stead.” It was an easy way out and Lucifer would have to allow Diavolo to take it. What other choice was there to make?

“Oh,” Diavolo said, biting his lip. “Of course.” With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the letter into the fireplace and Lucifer watched the flames hungrily eating away at the page, turning its remains from white to black to ashes. Oh, he thought. So it had been that simple all along. Although he should feel relief, Lucifer found his eyes stuck to the fireplace; stuck to the graveyard where his feelings would have to remain buried.

Quietly, Diavolo began to speak and Lucifer listened to the sound of his voice without turning his head. “I trust you, Lucifer,” he said. “I appreciate your words of gratitude, but seeing as they cause discomfort, nothing will have to change.”

Strangely enough, Lucifer felt taken aback. A damp sort of pain was running through his body, and he was surprised to feel it as vividly as he did.

Nothing would have to change. It was for the better.

“Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth, the words bitter on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to chew them up and spit them out, but forced himself to swallow them down instead.

“There’s no need to thank me,” Diavolo replied blankly, his eyes set on the fireplace as well. It was an entirely absurd exchange.

They did not talk about the letter any further. Lucifer did not feel like making eye contact with Diavolo just to see that disappointed expression again.

Simeon was standing in front of the Demon Lord’s castle, the warm Devildom air caressing his cheeks and tousling his hair. He raised one hand and knocked against the heavy wood, his knuckles grazing the door hard enough he feared it would leave behind gashes.

It didn’t take long for him to be welcomed in. Barbatos seemed to still be up and about with Asmodeus and Solomon since one of the Little D’s allowed him to enter and led him through the halls until they reached another heavy door.

For a moment, he had to wait until a voice called him in and he was allowed to enter. The clacking of his heels against the marbled ground were filling the silence as he approached the Devildom’s future ruler.

“Lord Diavolo. Good evening,” he greeted harmoniously.

The demon prince was sitting at a table and there were several documents and maps spread out all over its surface. He looked up at his visitor, his eyebrows rising in surprise. It seemed like the unannounced visit had caught him by surprise. “Simeon, how have you been faring? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Simeon rubbed his hands together. “I am doing well, thank you. Solomon, Luke and Raphael have been keeping me on my toes. But I did not come here to talk about them.”

“Sit down, Simeon, sit down. What might be troubling you then?”

Simeon gingerly sat down as Diavolo attempted to move the mess on the table aside. “Well it’s a rather delicate issue. I hope you'll lend me an ear regardless. It’s about Lucifer.”

Diavolo stopped in his tracks and lifted his head. “Lucifer? What may be the issue?”

There was a knowing look on Simeon’s face. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Truthfully, I worry about his health. He’s always been one to overdo it with work and his duties, but the past week, it’s been much worse than usual. He is moody and unpredictable and I am not the only one who has noticed. Do you know if anything happened that could’ve sent him astray? I know his brothers have been behaving quite well, so I don’t think it is related to them this time around.” He allowed a beat to pass before he threw Diavolo a knowing look. “Perhaps…Excuse my bluntness, but is it possible that something happened between the two of you?”

For a moment, Diavolo remained quiet. “It saddens me to hear that he hasn't been doing well,” he said shakily, before making eye contact with Simeon again. “It truly does.”

“So something did happen. Was it about-”

“It's nothing,” Diavolo cut in, his voice suddenly quite unwelcoming. ”Even more so do I find your little act of innocence quite daring. If there’s something you want to say, then say it without restraint.”

Simeon felt a wave of exasperation rushing through his chest. “It certainly doesn't look like nothing happened,” he countered. “I think you are well aware of that.”

Diavolo raised his voice. “What did or did not happen between him and me should hardly concern you.” They hadn’t talked like this ever since Simeon first came down to the Devildom. The hostility was strange, but not unfamiliar to them. It was a quiet thing, almost imperceptible to an outsider's eye.

There was a firm look in Simeon’s eyes. “It is when I see an old friend in unnecessary pain.”

They found themselves locked in a stalemate. Diavolo was the first to give in. He dropped his palms down on the tabletop. A few sheets of paper were sent flying from the impact. “He said I should forget about the letter, so I did. Everything should be alright.”

Simeon didn't ask about the letter. There was no need. He had already known in his heart that Lucifer was the one who had written it. “And you didn't insist on talking about it further?” he asked.

“It wasn't my place to do so. Why should I have acted differently when it was what he wished for?”

“Because he is your friend who has sworn utmost loyalty to you and refuses to put either of you in a situation that could jeopardise your relationship. Tell me Lucifer would not act this way and I won't say another word.”

Diavolo didn't answer for a beat or two, then mellowed down considerably. “How could I let myself think in such ways when it took us decades to rid ourselves of the shackles of my status? My feelings, grand as they are, should be insignificant.”

“Yet they aren't. Not to you and most certainly not to him. Are you that keen to let it ruin your relationship? Do you truly want to go back to how things were?” Simeon asked bluntly, receiving him a disbelieving stare. “We both know how Lucifer gets when he sees the need to distance himself. He gets cold and impersonal and that is incredibly painful to experience.” Simeon fixed him with a sharp glare. “Excuse my bluntness, but you already know he loves you. Things have already changed. Not dealing with it will get you nowhere. Stop stringing him along for your own sake. Giving him a straight answer is the least-” Before he could finish his sentence, there was another knock on the door. Both Simeon and Diavolo turned towards the noise.

“Yes?” Diavolo asked unnecessarily. After all, there were only two people the Little D’s would invite in without a previously scheduled appointment. Barbatos was still out on a mission with Asmodeus and Solomon, so that left only one other person.

The door swung open. Lucifer was waiting in the hallway with a stack of papers in hand. His hair looked just as perfect as it always did, making Diavolo wish he could run his hand through it just once more, allowing his fingers to wander through the silky strands, his palm brushing over Lucifer’s forehead with the utmost care. The RAD uniform he wore was ironed to perfection, without so much as a speck of dust to be seen. In spite of his flawless appearance, there were heavy bags under his eyes. His gaze was a cold, detached thing that he hadn't worn out in decades.

Diavolo swallowed once, his eyes rushing over to Simeon, who fixed him with a solemn expression.

When Lucifer caught sight of the angel, he stopped in his tracks.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked warily, his hand still on the door handle.

Simeon stood up and shook his head. “Not at all. Thank you for the talk, Lord Diavolo. I hope you will consider my words of advice.” He threw Lucifer a quick glance and nodded shortly before he left.

As soon as he was gone, the atmosphere turned awkward.

“Lucifer,” Diavolo started carefully. He cleared his throat. “What may I help you with?”

For a moment, Lucifer mustered him. “I was planning to deliver a few documents.” A beat passed. He prepared to put them on the table, but when his eyes wandered downwards, he frowned. “Now what happened here? Barbatos leaves you to your own devices and you decide to throw the castle into disarray?”

He surveyed the mess and began to shuffle a few stray papers around in an attempt at creating at least some semblance of order. “What did Simeon want from you?” he asked while he kept sorting, his eyes fixed on the documents.

Diavolo motioned for him to come closer. When Lucifer remained in place, still busying himself with sorting the documents, Diavolo sighed. He felt a twinge of regret pulling at his conscience. He knew that somehow, he had to fix what he had damaged. Simeon had been right after all. They wouldn't get out of talking about what passed between them if he wished to save their relationship.

Slowly, he stood up and walked over to Lucifer. When he tried to put his hand on his shoulder, Lucifer pulled himself back just enough to avoid the touch. Rejection was a cold sword twisting in Diavolo’s gut.

“Forget it, it’s not like it’s any of my business. There is no reason for you to tell me anything.”

Diavolo felt desperate to keep the conversation going. “He was simply giving me a piece of advice. There is no need to worry.”

Lucifer threw him a cold look. “Why would I be worried?” Finally, he handed over the stack of documents he'd been carrying with him. “Do Barbatos a favour and file them away appropriately. That would be all. Have a good night, Diavolo.”

And just like that, Diavolo watched Lucifer’s backside as he exited the room, one last hand raised to wave goodbye. The words he had left him with stung like fresh pearls of water dripping over fresh wounds. Lucifer hadn't truly looked him in the eyes even once.

He had to fix this.

Lucifer was sitting at his desk with closed eyes, his heavy head cradled in his hands. It was difficult to tell whether what he was doing was an act of self-punishment or his newest attempt at repentance.

All he knew was that every single cell of his body was screaming for the comfort of sleep. But he couldn’t. His mind wouldn’t allow him to.

Today’s trip to the Demon Lord’s castle had been enough to unravel his carefully constructed restraints all over again.

Something had been in Diavolo’s eyes tonight. Lucifer wasn't enough of a fool to call it sadness, but it couldn't be too far off from it. All things considered, he couldn’t allow himself the luxury to be openly cross with him and let it tarnish their relationship even further. For once, he found himself unable to turn off his feelings or push them to the side for later consideration. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes for the shortest of moments.

When he opened them again, something felt off. It was as if the world was blurring around the edges, the details losing clarity when he tried to look at them for too long. All colours seemed brighter, but the noise of the House sounded much duller than usual.

This must be a dream, Lucifer found himself thinking. He must’ve fallen asleep after all. Ever since Solomon had tinkered around with the dream world, jumping from dream to dream without much consideration of what it may cause, more vivid and sometimes even shared dreams had become somewhat usual. Leave it to that pesky sorcerer to send the Devildom's ley lines into disarray.

Suddenly, there was a voice next to his ear, deep and smooth. “Did I hurt you with my actions?” Diavolo was suddenly standing behind him, his eyes big and guilt-ridden, his hand held high enough to take hold of Lucifer’s shoulder if he so wished to. Still, his hand remained halfway lifted, reluctant to connect.

Lucifer let out a sigh. So not even his dreams were kind enough to spare him. At least the dream world seemed to dull his feelings enough to soothe his bleeding heart. “Why would you concern yourself with that?” he asked, slowly standing up to face the demon prince.

Finally, Diavolo placed his hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. “Because it was never my intention to cause you grief,” he admitted quietly.

“And yet you continue to do so,” Lucifer replied without hesitation. It was easier to be truthful when their entire relationship wasn't at stake. “However, it would be ridiculous of me to hold you accountable for my own unrequited desires.” He lifted his head and, knowing it was a dream, smiled reluctantly. “It was I who acted like a fool.” For once, he allowed himself to be soft, allowed his heart to beat quickly despite the emergency band-aid he had forced himself to plaster across it. “There was no need for change, yet my letter caused all sorts of unrest.”

Diavolo took his hands and held them gently in his own. Lucifer couldn’t help but find it cruel. Still, he didn’t ask to be released. The sensation was nice enough and more so, not real. The closeness they were maintaining was unattainable in real life. Perhaps it was time to wake up again before the dream could progress further. Dreaming would only get him so far.

He closed his eyes and breathed out. Diavolo’s hands felt warm against his skin. Slowly, the world started to blur at the edges again. He was ready to go.

“Wait.” Diavolo suddenly whispered as he squeezed Lucifer’s right hand. “Please stay,” he added. “Just for a moment longer. I have missed you dearly.”

Lucifer mustered his face. Diavolo’s symmetrical bone structure, his regal nose, his golden eyes, the dimples that only showed whenever he laughed; his mind seemed to have replicated them all perfectly. He allowed it, lifted his hand and even let his thumb swipe across his soft cheek.

“What is it?” he asked as he mustered Diavolo’s face. Even in his dreams, it was hard to face him when rejection was still a leaking wound.

Diavolo closed his eyes and sighed. “Your touch, it melts me at my core.”

Lucifer felt his heart rate accelerate.

The world seemed to blur at the edges once more. Now, they were standing opposite one another. Quietly, Diavolo placed Lucifer’s letter on the table between them and slid it over towards him. “I did read it from beginning to finish this time around. Will you be so kind and hear me out?” He tipped his head to the side, an apologetic smile on his face.

Lucifer fixed him with a composed gaze, keeping quiet for a moment. In the end, he still couldn’t say no. He ran his finger over the unharmed paper.

“I already told you, there’s no need to discuss this any further and you agreed. Your answer was quite clear. Why can’t we let bygones be bygones?”

“Because I do not wish to lose you.” Diavolo lifted one hand to Lucifer’s face, brushing it across his cheekbone, then up to his forehead and into his hair until he was carefully pushing it out of his eyes. “No matter what you say, I think you need me to acknowledge this. Please hear me out one more time.”

Slowly, he was leaning closer and his nose brushed over Lucifer’s cheek, his lips a breath away from leaving a feather-light peck on Lucifer's lips. Diavolo’s voice whispered a string of words he was unable to make out against his skin.

Lucifer awoke with a startle, his mind uncertain and his body bothered.

Solomon and those cursed ley lines.

“Big bro. There’s a letter for you.”

Lucifer raised his head and put down his cup of coffee, his mind split between his last talk with Diavolo and the dream that had continued to haunt him throughout the night. “Hand it over then.” It was the middle of the month. There were neither bills nor other documents to be expected, so it had to be something personal.

“Tell me where you put Baby and I’ll think about forkin’ it over,” Mammon tried to bargain.

Not even a beat passed. “No. Did you believe I would simply agree? What a foolish suggestion.” Lucifer let his eyes travel through the room. If he were Mammon, where would he put the letter?

There. With a quick movement, he lunged forward, trying to grab Mammon by his lapels. When he dodged, Lucifer saw the opening he’d known his action would create and successfully managed to pull the letter out of the back of Mammon’s waistband. “You’ll have to wake up earlier if you plan to outdo me.”

Mammon spun back around, his hands on his back. “Hey! Unfair! Give it back!”

“Why would I do that now? It’s addressed to me, is it not? Legally, you have no claim to it.”

“What’s all this ruckus about?” Asmodeus asked as he walked into the living room. He was wearing a lavish pink robe and the fabric rustled expensively as he approached. He let out a big yawn and stretched his back with a satisfied sigh. “You really had to ruin my beauty sleep with all of that pesky noise. Will no one apologize to little old me?” Despite his words, Asmodeus seemed rather chipper.

He was leaning his arms, one was folded over the other, against the backside of the couch and tilted his head curiously. “Oh! Lucifer, is that a hand-written letter? Who is it from, a secret admirer maybe?” His voice brightened with excitement. “Oh, oh! First Diavolo, and now this! Maybe it’s your turn! Do you think Barbatos might be next? Now wouldn’t that be darling!”

Mammon swung his legs over the back of the couch, landing safely as the sofa’s spring core let out a pitiful creak. “Are you coo-coo? Who would go after Barbatos?”

Asmodeus tapped his chin and angled his head. “I would,” he said without hesitation.

Mammon pulled a face and threw his brother an annoyed look. “Well, you’re weird, so… doesn't count.”

Asmo returned the look with a shocked expression. “Are you trying to tell me you wouldn’t?! It’s Barbatos we’re talking about here!”

“Exactly! The guy freaks me out!”

“And?”

“What and?!”

“And if you two won't shut up I will throw you out of this room before you even have the chance to take a single breath. Understood?” All it took was an unimpressed look from Lucifer to get them to quiet down again.

Asmo walked around the couch, lifting his skirts as he sat down next to Lucifer. Carefully, he folded his hands in his lap. “It wouldn’t hurt to indulge us from time to time, you know?” he complained light-heartedly.

“I do believe that would in fact hurt my health and sanity,” Lucifer countered as he retrieved his letter opener and cut the letter open with a quick flick of the wrist. There were several pages of paper inside, made of the finest material and sprinkled with a familiar eau de cologne.

Lucifer shuffled through them, then brushed his thumb over the first page. The words were hard to miss as they were written in crimson ink.

“Do you know who it’s from?” Asmo whispered curiously, his eyes big and cheeks pink.

Lucifer knew exactly who wrote the letter. He was intimately acquainted with the penmanship and lettering, yet it made no sense regardless. There were no words left to say between them, so why would he now decide to write a letter? To reject him in writing as well?

“I have an inkling,” he muttered as he began to read the letter, his eyebrows creased.

For a moment, it was quiet. Mammon was playing around with a coin, flipping it in the air from time to time to fight his boredom. Asmodeus was leaning closer towards Lucifer, his expression curious. He was close enough to read the letter with him, so he did. To put it more correctly, he skimmed through the letter, desperate to read the juicy parts before Lucifer could get there.

All of a sudden, Asmodeus squealed. Lucifer looked up at him in alarm and flipped the letter over to hide the writing. His little brother had both hands slapped over his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he whispered before throwing both hands on top of Lucifer’s shoulders, shaking his older brother ever so slightly. “Oh my god!!”

Lucifer quickly pushed his hands off his shoulders. “What made you think you could infringe on my privacy and get away unscathed,” he growled. “Reading my letters, really Asmo?”

The threat went straight over Asmo’s head. “Of course I did, it was right there in front of my nose! I'm curious by nature, you know that! But nevermind that! The letter, it’s a-”

Lucifer lifted his pointer in warning. “One more word, Asmodeus.”

Mammon watched them from the side and pocketed his coin. “Uh oh, he pulled out the government name, dude… better skedaddle…”

When Asmo seemed to remain blissfully unaware of the danger he was putting himself in, Mammon threw his head back with a groan and grabbed him by the collar. Asmo let out an undignified squawk when he was pulled away with little care for his sensibilities. Lucifer could hear the beginning of a fight from further away. For now, he did not consider it his problem. Both Asmo and Mammon could stand their ground perfectly fine by themselves.

Lucifer returned his attention to the problem at hand: The letter Diavolo had addressed to him for unknown reasons.

Quietly, he began to read it.

Dear Lucifer,

In spite of all difficulties, your letter has reached me. I have to thank you for taking the time to put your feelings down on paper, and even more so, for your patience. I apologize for the time it took me to formulate my response, for I have been foolishly conflicted.

Truthfully, it took the intervention of a friend to make me return to my senses. Now, I am more certain than I have ever been. Hopefully, you will accept my sincerity.

First of all, I would like to apologize: for inconveniencing you, but more than that, for hurting your pride. It was never my intention. I would bend at the waist and grovel in front of your feet if only that could bring me your forgiveness.

In the meantime, I shall offer my honesty as atonement and hope that my words will suffice to reach your soul.

Lucifer, the first time I saw you, your beauty and grace were so mesmerising that for a moment, I found myself entirely out of breath. When I stood up from my seat, robbed of my senses, you only looked down on me from the tip of your finely shaped nose. The words you directed towards me did not even register for I could not fathom the existence of a man who was able to redefine my understanding of perfection in the span of mere moments. You were righteous and proper, your existence so blinding I had to avert my eyes in exhilarating shame.

Throughout the years, we have built and nurtured a sort of companionship and trust I have never been able to experience before. I never thought it strange how close we had become and how difficult it was for me to say no to your every request. And when finally, you started to let down your guard around me, I assumed my feelings were quite natural. I made it a habit to make memories with you; I started to keep recordings of your voice and pictures no one aside from me would ever know about. The thought of being special was invigorating, I thrived knowing I was the only one allowed to pull you so close.

My life without you is something I do not dare imagine even in my darkest hours.

When I find myself in need, your unshakeable hand is always by my side, firmly planted onto my shoulder, giving me safety and reassurance.

Despite the want that filled my chest whenever I was near you, I always assumed this would have to be enough for us.

Lately, I have found myself forced to face reality. My feelings for you have long passed the boundaries of friendship. That is a fact I cannot afford to ignore anymore. The repercussions of my foolish actions, led by a fear of change, have started to hurt you. Sometimes, I catch myself thinking that I have already ruined everything with my refusal to act upon what we have been dancing around for years.

Your touch, it melts me at my core. I believe I have told you so in a dream. Oftentimes, I find myself staring at the fine bone of your overworked wrist and wonder, would my hand break it? Or would you break mine in return? I do not believe I would mind if you did.

Lucifer, if you will allow me to do so, I will cherish you more than anyone would ever dare to.

Please tell me, have I waited too long? Is all hope lost? Or can I allow myself to dream of a future together?

Yours truly and entirely,

Diavolo

It made no sense. For once, Lucifer found himself at a loss for words. Although the proof was right there in his hands, he refused to believe what he was reading. These were words he’d heard from Diavolo before, but seeing them put together in red ink, so intricate and careful, painted an entirely new picture.

Thoughtlessly, Lucifer stormed towards the entrance, letter still in hand, ready to make his way to the Demon Lord’s Castle once again. When he ripped the door open, he had to take a stumbling step back. There was a familiar face waiting for him, right on his doorstep.

Diavolo was looking at him, then looking down at the letter in his hand. Lucifer pulled him in by the collar and the front door fell shut behind them with a loud bang. In the distance, he could hear his brothers scurrying away like rats afraid to be caught by the house cat.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lucifer hissed through gritted teeth as soon as they were in the privacy of his home. Perhaps he’d finally lost it after all.

“Ah, so you’ve received it,” Diavolo chuckled quietly. ”I see you are upset.”

Lucifer took one step closer as he released his collar. The anger behind his eyes was fiery and wet. “I am upset, as you have put it, because I do not know what to do with you. May I repeat that it was your choice to keep things as they were? I was preparing to be okay with that.”

It was rare for Lucifer to lose his temper around him, so Diavolo knew to be cautious.

He lowered his gaze. “It was a mistake on my part. I was unaware how much my feelings had already bled into our every interaction. I was so used to you being by my side that the nature of my feelings blindsided me. I thought it would be better to have you by my side as a friend than lose you entirely.”

He grabbed Lucifer's hand and pulled it close to his chest. “Please, listen to the way my heart beats for you. Would it lie?”

Although he had half the mind to pull his hand away in anger, he allowed Diavolo to keep holding it for the moment. “The letter,” he said slowly. “What were your intentions?” His hand formed a fist beneath Diavolo’s warm hands and his expression remained cautious.

Slowly, Diavolo lifted Lucifer's hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss against his knuckles. “Normally, I may not be prone to nerves, but the prospect of losing you made me act quite uncouth. As soon as I regained my senses I knew I had to make my feelings known. If you will have me, I will repeat them to you each and every day, as often as you need so you can believe my words.”

“There is no need for you to do that,” Lucifer said quietly. The tips of his ears were tinted red. “Stop it.”

Diavolo reluctantly let go of his hand. “Then what is it you want?”

Lucifer felt conflicted. When he furrowed his brows, Diavolo pressed his thumb against the crease between his brows, smoothing it over. “What do you wish for?” he repeated.

“My opinion shouldn't matter.”

“Yet it does to me.”

Lucifer let out a sigh. “Yesterday's dream,” he started. “I had an inkling you were there too. Your letter… confirms that suspicion.”

Diavolo nodded slowly. “It was not my intention to intrude. Truthfully, I only realized we were sharing it halfway through,” he admitted sheepishly. “Still, everything I said remains true. Your letter, it showed up for you as well, didn't it? Did you know I revived it from the ashes after you left?”

A surprised expression ran over Lucifer's face. “Why would you-?”

“Because despite my actions, your words shook me at my very core. I did not wish to let them disappear. Barbatos thought me a fool for it all.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, he scolded me throughly. I cannot blame him for it.”

Lucifer let out a deep sigh and pushed his hair out of his face. For a moment, he considered his options. “This is no topic to discuss in the hallway. We should take this to my chambers,” he finally settled on.

Diavolo flushed a darker colour. “Your chambers?! Well, of course, I suppose-”

By now, the anger had disappeared from Lucifer's features. He held up one hand. “Don't misunderstand. I don't wish for my brothers to eavesdrop,” he explained quickly.

“Oh, yes. Naturally!”

Lucifer took a hold of Diavolo's wrist, hidden between the frames of their bodies. If anyone were to watch them, it would simply look as if they were walking a bit too closely next to one another. Although he still seemed undecided, the stiffness had disappeared from the line of his shoulders.

They made their way upstairs and Lucifer threw a quick glance in the direction of one of his brothers’ rooms. A door was quietly pulled shut and he let out an annoyed huff.

“They are quite curious about your private life, aren't they?” Diavolo mused.

Lucifer shook his head. “They are too nosy for their own good.”

He led Diavolo to his room and pulled the door shut behind them. His back was turned towards the door when Diavolo stepped into his space. He placed one hand against the door and leaned closer. “Where were we?” he asked, his voice low against Lucifer's neck.

“We were negotiating, were we not?” Lucifer replied.

“Of course,” Diavolo mumbled. “I have half the mind to offer to grovel at your feet, if that will earn me your forgiveness.”

“There is no need for that,” Lucifer answered, knowing that Diavolo might not shy away from actually doing so.

“Then what will it take for you to accept me?” he asked. Diavolo let one hand come to rest against Lucifer's waist as he buried his face in the crook of his neck. His breath tickled against the sensitive skin. “Please.”

“We shouldn't lose ourselves,” Lucifer mumbled.

“But are we not on the same page? Just say the word and I will be yours.”

He wrapped his arm tighter around his core, pulling himself flush against his body.

“This is impossible. You have duties you cannot walk away from. I should know my place.” Despite his words, Lucifer did not pull back. He knew putting distance between them was detrimental, yet the touch felt too good to deny.

“Is it so wrong to want you by my side? I have had my eyes on you ever since our first chess match.”

Lucifer tilted his neck further back.“Your father wouldn't be pleased to know you have set your mind on courting a former angel. You will have to marry someday.”

Diavolo lifted his hand and pushed Lucifer's hair out of his face, letting his palm brush over his forehead. “My father should be pleased that I chose to court one of the most feared demons of the entire realm. There is no one aside from you that I desire. If it is marriage you worry about, then I will vow to bear responsibility.”

Lucifer flushed red, astonished by this answer he hadn't expected. “That is not what I was- Have you lost your mind?!”

Diavolo ran his hand through the soft tresses of his hair, catching a whitening strand between his fingertips. “You would make a fine husband. There would be no soul who wouldn't be jealous of me,” he murmured.

“Diavolo! That's quite enough!” He lifted his hand and placed it against Diavolo's cheek. “How can you be so certain about this?” he asked as he looked him in the eye, his eyebrows pulled together in question. “You will grow to dislike it.”

“Shall we put it to the test then?” Diavolo asked, his eyes set on Lucifer's. The air was heavy around them. “Shall we?” he repeated more quietly. “I promise you won’t get rid of me that easily.” A dejected smile appeared on his face. “Unless you ask me to step away, of course. Then, I will have to oblige.”

Lucifer slid his free hand around the back of Diavolo's neck, his palm curled over his nape, and slowly pulled closer. He did not break eye contact, simply tilted his head and considered the demon in front of him. Carefully, he closed his eyes as he crossed the distance between them. Diavolo followed suit, his chest flush against Lucifer's as their lips met. It was a soft and quiet thing. Diavolo made a small noise as Lucifer moved his lips against his own, angling his head ever so slightly. “I won’t ask for such a thing,” he admitted between breaths.

Lucifer found himself pinned against the door by Diavolo's sturdy body. His hand was travelling down, brushing past reliable shoulders, discovering the taut muscle hidden beneath his uniform. Diavolo let out a forlorn sigh as his mouth strayed off course, leaving Lucifer open mouthed as his lips pressed soft kisses against the corner of his mouth, exploring the sharpness of his jaw, the small hint of skin that his dress shirt allowed to be exposed.

“You are so beautiful,” Diavolo mumbled against his skin and Lucifer shivered at the sensation. “How could I grow to dislike you even in the slightest.”

The demon prince sucked at the skin experimentally, his purpose quite clear.

“Don't think I don't know what you’re trying to achieve,” Lucifer breathed out. “Have you always been this possessive?”

“When it comes to you I try not to be. Do you want me to stop?”

A slight pause for consideration. “No, you can go ahead.”

He could feel Diavolo's smile against his skin, moments before he pulled the skin through his teeth, gently sucking a dark mark against his neck.

Lucifer allowed a shuddery breath to break free.

“Are you absolutely certain about this?”

“As certain as you will allow me to be. If you so choose to accept my sincerity.” His hands were wandering, discovering tight muscles and tender skin until coming to rest against the sides of Lucifer's neck. Slowly, he cupped his cheeks. “Lucifer, do you like me?” All things considered it was a surprisingly innocent question.

“Has my letter not been enough?”

“I want to hear it from your mouth. Please, I implore you.”

It was strangely frightening to have his soul laid bare, exposed to the privacy of his own four walls. “Diavolo.” He leaned closer, allowing his lips to ghost along his ear. Lucifer shut his eyes and let out a deep breath. “Although I shouldn't, I long for you,” he admitted, his voice quiet enough to be not much more than a whisper.

Diavolo pulled back, his eyes warm like honey as he studied Lucifer's face. “As do I,” he breathed out, astonished. “Now where does this leave us?” He played the ball right back into Lucifer's hands.

“What can we afford to be?”

“Boyfriends?” Diavolo asked hopefully, but felt his heart drop when Lucifer pulled a face. “Have I misunderstood?”

Lucifer shook his head. “It's not that, just… that term. How old do you believe us to be?”

“Partners, then? Or lovers, perhaps? Youthful Fun 101 certainly will have more suggestions if those displease you as well.”

“That I can live with,” he replied quickly, his heartbeat a thrumming constant in his ears. “There's no need to consult that wretched book.”

“Marvellous!” Diavolo wrapped his arms around Lucifer and embraced him tight enough to push all air out of his lungs. “I vow I shall make you the happiest demon the Devildom has ever seen!”

Slowly, Lucifer patted his back. “I'll take that with a grain of salt.”

Laughing, Diavolo buried his head in the crook of his neck. “Now don't be like that, Lucifer. I am being nothing but truthful.”

Lucifer locked his arms around Diavolo's neck and shut him up with a kiss. For now, he couldn’t answer whether or not he could believe Diavolo’s words. Both love and established relationships were still uncharted territory to him, but in spite of it, it still felt surprisingly comfortable to share such closeness with Diavolo. He shouldn't enjoy it as much as he did, but for once, Lucifer allowed himself to indulge.

Diavolo swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and Lucifer parted his lips in reply, exploring the way Diavolo’s mouth tasted under his warm tongue. It was invigorating.

Diavolo started to move, unwilling to part as he was pulling him away from the door and closer towards his bed.

“You own such a large bed, doesn't it just beg to be shared?” He wriggled his eyebrows and Lucifer let out a huff in response. “You are inviting yourself in? Now isn't this quite the shameless behaviour?”

Diavolo laughed against his lips, his voice deep and smooth. “I am trying to proposition you, is it not working?”

“That remains up to debate.”

“Allow me to convince you then.”

Diavolo pressed Lucifer down by the shoulders, getting him to sit down on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he lifted his hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon his palm. Lucifer pulled him closer by his collar, lifting his head defiantly. “What, pray tell, do you plan to do?”

Diavolo dropped down onto his knees and looked up at him, his hands coming to rest against his thighs. Lucifer buried one hand in the sheets, gripping them tightly for support.

“Kneel until I have your forgiveness,” Diavolo said with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

Lucifer flushed red. “I told you there's no-”

Slowly, he rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, gently massaging the taut flesh. “Tell me you do not enjoy this and I will step away.”

Lucifer pushed his hair out of his face as he stared down at the Devildom prince, flushed and excited between his knees. It was undeniable that it fuelled his pride to have the man he longed for beneath him, one cheek pressed against the fabric of his trousers, looking up at him with devotion in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

When Lucifer noticed his pants growing tighter at the thought, Diavolo’s eyes strayed as well.

“You desire me,” he murmured. He was running his hand over the inside of Lucifer’s thigh, going up dangerously high just to travel further down towards his knee again. “Look at you, my morning star.”

“Does that excite you?” he asked. For once, he did not feel the familiar pull of shame he had grown accustomed to. “How could it not? The most brilliant demon the Devildom has ever laid eyes upon is right above me, looking positively roused.”

Lucifer averted his gaze. “Enough with the praise.”

Diavolo's eyes wandered downwards and he ran one hand up towards Lucifer’s waist. “Will you let me serve you this once?”

“Serve me? What do you-”

Their eyes met and Lucifer could see his own desire reflected back to him in Diavolo’s eyes. His hand had stilled, as he was waiting to hear Lucifer's explicit consent, and his finger was tapping against his trousers in anticipation.

Lucifer slipped his hand over Diavolo's. “I shall allow it this once,” he finally agreed.

Diavolo did not wait much longer, his impatience having grown with each and every second wasted. He parted Lucifer's knees to create more space in-between his legs. One hand returned to its former occupation, fondling his thigh, while the other inched closer towards his zipper.

It was invigorating to watch the way Lucifer shifted under his touch, his eyes dark with want, his hand buried in the sheets.

“Lucifer,” Diavolo mumbled. “Do you even know what sort of expression you are making right now?”

For a moment he pulled himself up again to kiss Lucifer slowly, his hand coming to reach his nape. While he did so, he let his fingertips ghost across his pants, finding the zipper and pulling it down slowly. Lucifer panted against his lips when he experimentally began to run his hand along his considerable arousal. Slowly, he palmed him through his briefs, enjoying the way it clearly excited Lucifer. Some part of him wanted to stay like this forever. It was a side of Lucifer he had never seen before, and an irresistible and sensitive one at that.

“Let us take these off,” Diavolo mumbled as he ran his fingers over the impressive bulge. He watched Lucifer as he shuffled out of his pants, left to sit on the edge of the bed in nothing but his dress shirt, his expensive black briefs and sock garters. The demon unbuttoned the top of his shirt and leaned back, his eyes heavy in ways Diavolo had never seen before. It was intoxicating.

He pulled himself up, crawling onto the bed as well until he was close enough to push Lucifer onto his back. And so he did. Lucifer raised an eyebrow at him, and the corner of his mouth pulled upwards ever so slightly.

“Eager, are we?” he asked.

“Verily,” Diavolo breathed out, his excitement barely hidden as he shrugged off his coat. He laid himself on the side and pulled Lucifer’s body against his own, his lips soon discovering the exposed expanse of his neck again while his hands ran across his sturdy chest. While he nibbled at the skin, Lucifer’s hand explored the taut muscles of his back, one coming to rest against his hip, the other travelling further down as he pulled closer, reaching Diavolo’s ass. A satisfied chuckle escaped Lucifer’s lips and before he could feel embarrassed about it, Diavolo pulled him in and kissed him hard. His hand slipped past the waistband of Lucifer’s briefs, exposing his proud member. His fingertips trailed upwards, giving it an experimental pump as it was already half-hard. Lucifer exhaled sharply. For a moment, Diavolo opened his eyes. Lucifer’s eyes were squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed with the slightest bit of colour. Diavolo swore he had never seen something quite as beautiful before.

He swiped his thumb over the slit of Lucifer’s cock, collecting a droplet of precum and spreading it across, his fingers gentle and painstakingly careful. With one hand, he travelled further down, massaging his balls. Lucifer buried his face in the mattress. His arm was slung around Diavolo’s neck. He reached between them and undid Diavolo’s zipper, freeing his boner. Although his eyes were shut, Lucifer could tell it was a thing of majestic length and girth. Not that he hadn’t noticed before, but tracing his cold fingers over the feverish skin gave him an entirely new perspective. He opened his eyes and gazed down. It was huge.

Lucifer kissed Diavolo’s jawline, then his neck.

“I very well can’t be the only one getting satisfied,”he muttered. Diavolo laughed and planted a kiss against his cheek.

“Your pleasure alone would be satisfying enough for me.”

“That certainly won’t do,” Lucifer countered as he nipped at the warm skin of Diavolo’s throat. He let one finger trail over the vein lining his dick, then wrapped his hand around his member, stroking it lazily. Diavolo’s breath was heavy in his ear. The sounds he made were deep and needy.

“Shall we come together then?” Diavolo wrapped his hand around both their members, guiding Lucifer to join him. His hand came to cover Diavolo’s. It was a warm and slippery thing, uncoordinated with the way they were rutting together to reach their final high.

Diavolo could tell they were both close. Lucifer wrapped his arm around Diavolo’s neck, pulling them even closer together. Diavolo’s body was heavy on his own, but he liked to feel the weight against his chest. Somehow, it was grounding.

They picked up their pace and when he felt he was close, he grunted, burying his hand in the back of Diavolo’s hair, pulling him in to meet in a messy kiss. Lucifer was the first to come, his eyes shut and his breath out of order. It did not take Diavolo much longer, the sight of his partner, lost at the edge of lust, was enough to tip him over. He spilled over their hands, the liquid hot and thick. Diavolo let his full weight drop on Lucifer.

Lucifer pushed his hair out of his eyes with a shuddery breath. “When did we get so off topic? Rutting against one another like unrestrained teenagers.”

Diavolo buried his head in the crook of his neck, leaving a small kiss behind. “We have talked around the issue for a while now. Perhaps it was long overdue.”

Lucifer shot him an irritated side-glance. “Perhaps it would have been faster if you hadn’t rejected me straight away.”

Ah, still a sore point. A demon’s hurt pride was not easy to repair, especially not when it came to Lucifer. Diavolo lifted himself up and cupped Lucifer’s face. “I shall continue to apologize to you with both actions and words.” He kissed him slowly. “Until you believe me.”

Lucifer grabbed his face. “Then show me your best,” he replied stoically.

The expression made Diavolo laugh boisterously. “Anything for you, my dear.”

Lucifer squirmed under the newfound affection, the nickname still foreign to his ears.

Perhaps he would have to get used to this after all.

[pointesdulac]

hi v!!! 3, 12, and 17 for the book asks :)

HI KY HELLO!!

3. What were your top five books of the year?

This is hard!! in no particular order...

Our Wives Under the Sea - Julia Armfield: a "came back wrong" story. The protagonist thought her wife was lost in a deep sea expedition, only to have her return like a shadow of herself. It alternates between the protagonist trying to figure out how to help her, and the diaries of her wife explaining what happened. At first I wanted the two characters voices to be more distinct, but overall I keep thinking about this book so really it's my standout of the year. Made me cry about an octopus. Big body horror warning.

Gideon the Ninth - Tasmyn Muir: necromancers and their cavaliers come together to compete for the privilege to serve the Emperor. You've probably seen this before. I really enjoyed the first book more than the second, and I haven't read the third yet. I personally think the author does a better job with this book, versus trying to make a complicated narrative maze in the others. However! The characters are so good that I am still very enamoured with it. I do recommend this one, YMMV with the others. It also made me cry. Body horror warning for this as well, with necromancer stuff.

The Animals at Lockwood Manor - Jane Healey: during WW2, the British Museum's collection of animals must be moved for safety, thought the protagonist worries that Lockwood Manor has threats of its own. This felt like a book they would use to show you symbolism in school-- in a good way! Very deliberate and confident symbolism and thematic imagery. It was very eerie and I loved both the main characters, Big warnings for this one, though, that I would suggest taking a look at with discretion, since it is a part of the 'finale' reveal (it's not depicted in any detail but it's heavy).

Caroline's Heart - Austin Chant: a witch tries to resurrect her lost love, and a cowboy stumbles on her work. This is a novella, but I really loved it so much. It reads like a fairytale and the characters are completely endearing. Romantic and comforting!! Warnings for period relevant -phobias.

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon: a retelling of Saint George and the Dragon as a high fantasy. This book is huge but I adored it. Every character feels so alive and real. I'm not a big fantasy person but the worldbuild is unique, exciting, and it's all about women. I wish it was an ongoing since I want to see more of these characters. Ead my absolute beloved. I think you specifically would like this!! Warnings also some 'fantasy' -phobias, very emphasized miscarriage plot.

BONUS: Silver in the Wood - Emily Tesh: a wild man lives in Greenhollow Wood, peacefully letting the years pass him by, until a curious man arrives on his doorstep, intent on unravelling his secrets. Also a novella. This is my all timer. I didn't read it for the first time this year but I'm obsessed with it. I want everyone to read it. It's a fable; it's romantic; it's lush and hypnotic. I should write this author a letter.

12. Any books that disappointed you?

Sadly, several, haha. I read The Magpie Lord by KJ Charles and that's probably going to take the cake. KJ Charles is very prolific and usually highly recommended, so when this book did so little for me, I realized that's a huge block of books that I'm just not going to bother with. There were parts of the book I liked, and the style itself was fine, but then the sexual tone was super weird and there was a little too much emphasis on the 'exotic' East.

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

Actually Peter Darling by Austin Chant, which I only took the leap on since I liked Caroline's Heart so much. I just imagined I would be lukewarm on the concept, since I wasn't sure how it would be executed. I was overly cautious, haha. Then there was really creative takes on the story and on Neverland magic, and it was very endearing!

TYSM KY!! I hope you've been well!!

[amberthefantasy]

Fire and Winter

chapter six

Arya woke Alysanne before dawn. She dragged her out of bed and down to the bank of the river. They’d passed Moat Cailin just two days before and Arya was already enamoured with the river as they followed it south. She could often be found searching for colourful rocks and shells along the riverbank, or playing with that little friend she had made, Mycah. 

“Isn’t it so beautiful?” Arya asked as they looked out over the river.

“Quite,” Aly nodded in agreement.

“Micah says that King’s Landing is not so beautiful. He says it smells,” Arya wrinkled her nose.

“There are many people inside the walls, Arya it is bound to smell,” Aly smiled.

“Winterfell does not smell,” her sister said.

“There are not as many people in Winterfell,” Alysanne sighed. “I am sure that you will always find the country more beautiful than the city my sister,” she smiled. “You do love running and playing. But I believe Sansa and myself may both enjoy the capital.”

“Sansa will,” Arya huffed. “She is already acting like a proper lady of the court.” She looked sideways at Aly. “But you like riding and playing with Meleys too.”

“I do,” Aly nodded in agreement. “And I am certain that we will find many a moment to sneak off to the Kingswood.” she smiled teasingly at Arya. “But I do believe I may enjoy court life almost as much as our dear sister.”

Arya bit at her lip. “You have been spending time with that stuffy prince,” she noted.

“Joffrey is not stuffy,” Aly said. “He is simply proper.”

“Proper, boring you mean?” Arya said snidely.

“Arya!” Alysanne chided. “You do not even know him? How do you know he is boring?”

“Tommen was boring!” Arya snapped.

“Tommen is younger than Bran,” Aly sighed. “Of course you found him boring. Joffrey is four and ten, you may find he has more interests similar to yours.” She pushed her elbow against Arya’s shoulder. “In fact, the queen had invited me to tea, perhaps you could join me one day? Actually meet the prince?”

“I do not believe I would like that,” Arya wrinkled her nose again.

“It is just a suggestion,” Alysanne shrugged.

---

Sansa was fretting. “Where is Arya?” She said for the tenth time in the last few minutes, looking around for their younger sister.

“I did say she seemed… uncommitted to attending,” Aly replied.

“But the queen invited us all!” Sansa said, eyes wide.

“I am sure that the queen will be sanctified with you and I, Sansa,” Aly tried to reassure her. Sansa just pursed her lips, spun on her heel and took off towards the river. Alysanne sighed. She knew it was useless to try and convince Sansa to leave Arya alone. Her sister was much too concerned with the queen's opinions to leave their youngest sister to her own devices and allow her to miss the lunch with the queen. 

Alysanne herself was not overjoyed at the invitation. She had already spent one day with the queen and the royal children in their wheelhouse and it was stifling. The queen was too stiff, the children too young and Joffrey was not present to ease the tension between them. At the least, this time she would have Sansa by her side.

It took a few minutes for Sansa to return. She held her head high, and the direwolf at her heels certainly made her look all proper. But Aly could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Arya refused?” Aly asked when Sansa reached her.

“Yes,” Sansa said dully. 

“Come sister,” Aly smiled. “Let us go into the camp, I can hear a commotion.”

The two sisters began to walk towards the centre of the camp. Lady and Meleys trailing behind them as always. As they neared the centre of camp, Aly could see Sansa’s distress quickly fade. A crowd had gathered around the queen’s wheelhouse. Alysanne heard excited voices buzzing like a hive of bees. The doors had been thrown open, she saw, and the queen stood at the top of the wooden steps, smiling down at someone. She heard her saying, “The council does us great honour, my good lords.”

“What’s happening?” Sansa asked as the two came to a stop beside a squire they knew.

“The council sent riders from King’s Landing to escort us the rest of the way,” he told her. “An honour guard for the king.”

Alysanne cocked her head. She began to push forward through the crowd, letting Meleys carve a path as people backed away from the direwolf. When she got closer, she saw two knights kneeling before the queen, in armour so fine and gorgeous that it made her blink.

One knight wore an intricate suit of white enamelled scales, brilliant as a field of newfallen snow, with silver chasings and clasps that glittered in the sun. When he removed his helm, Alysanne saw that he was an old man with hair as pale as his armour, yet he seemed strong and graceful for all that. From his shoulders hung the pure white cloak of the Kingsguard. Alysanne could guess who this was, Ser Barristan the Bold. A legend even in the North.

His companion was a man near twenty whose armour was steel plate of a deep forest green. Alysanne supposed he was handsome; tall and powerfully made, with jet-black hair that fell to his shoulders and framed a clean-shaven face, and laughing green eyes to match his armour. But there was something in his face that made Alysanne look him over a few more times. 

“The king is gone hunting, but I know he will be pleased to see you when he returns,” the queen was saying to the two knights who knelt before her, but Alysanne was distracted by the sound of Lady growling and Sansa letting out a soft gasp, stumbling back into Aly’s side.

Alysanne instantly turned to look at her sister, stopping her from falling with a hand, eyes wide with question. Sansa was looking directly at another stranger that Alysanne had not noticed before. He did not kneel with the others. He stood to one side, beside their horses, a gaunt grim man who watched the proceedings in silence. His face was pockmarked and beardless, with deep set eyes and hollow cheeks. His armour was iron-grey chainmail over layers of boiled leather, plain and unadorned, and it spoke of age and hard use. Above his right shoulder the stained leather hilt of the blade strapped to his back was visible; a two-handed greatsword, too long to be worn at his side. He was staring right at Sansa too. Alysanne narrowed her eyes.

She was distracted again by another voice speaking. “You are shaking, girl,” Sandor Clegane said. “Do I frighten you so much?” He did. Aly knew that. Sansa had told her before that the prince’s sworn shield scared her more than any other man. Aly could understand why, the Hound was an imposing figure. 

“A wolf,” a man said, and someone else said, “Seven hells, those are direwolves,” and the first man said, “What are they doing in camp?” and the Hound’s rasping voice replied, “The Starks use them for wet nurses.” Alysanne realised the two stranger knights, Ser Barristan and the other one, were looking down at Meleys and Lady, swords drawn. She felt her sister grip her hand and saw tears beginning to pool in her little sister's eyes. 

“Joffrey,” she heard the queen say. 

And then the prince was there, dressed in a dark red doublet, green eyes as keen as always,

“Leave them alone,” Joffrey said. He came to a stop before them. “What is it, sweet lady?” He asked Sansa. “Why are you afraid? No one will hurt you. Put away your swords, all of you. The wolves are their little pets, that’s all.” He looked at Sandor Clegane. “And you, dog, away with you, you’re scaring my betrotheds sister.”

The Hound, ever faithful like a true dog, bowed and slid away. “It was not him my prince,” Sansa choked out. “It was the other one.” 

The two new knights exchanged a look. “Payne?” chuckled the young man in the green armour. 

The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. “Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect.” 

“As well he should.” The queen had descended from the wheelhouse. The spectators parted to make way for her. “If the wicked do not fear the King's Justice, you have put the wrong man in the office.”

“Then surely you have chosen the right one, Your Grace,” Aly said, and a gale of laughter erupted all around her.

“Well spoken, child,” said the old man in white. “As befits the daughter of Eddard Stark. I am honoured to know you, however irregular the manner of our meeting. I am Ser Barristan Selmy, of the Kingsguard.” He bowed.

Alysanne was right then. “The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” she said, “and councillor to Robert our king and to Aerys Targaryen before him. The honour is mine, good knight. Even in the far north, the singers praise the deeds of Barristan the Bold.” She smiled.

The green knight laughed again. “Barristan the Old, you mean. Don’t flatter him too sweetly, child, he thinks overmuch of himself already.” He smiled at her. “Now, wolf girl, if you can put a name to me as well, then I must concede that you are truly our Hand’s daughter.” 

Joffrey stiffened beside her. “Have a care how you address my betrothed.” 

“I can answer,” Alysanne said quickly, to quell her prince’s anger. She looked over the man again, taking note of the helm he held in his hands. “Your helmet bears golden antlers, my lord. The stag is the sigil of the royal House. King Robert has two brothers. By your extreme youth, you can only be Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End and councillor to the king, and so I name you.” 

Ser Barristan chuckled. “By his extreme youth, he can only be a prancing jackanapes, and so I name him.” 

There was general laughter, led by Lord Renly himself. The tension of a few moments ago was gone, Sansa was beginning to relax beside her and Alysanne felt her release her hand. But of course they would not have peace. Ser Ilyn shouldered his way towards them and stared down at Sansa, unsmiling. Alysanne stiffened, placing her hand softly on Meleys’ head to calm the growl rumbling in her wolf’s throat. “I am sorry if I offended you, Ser Ilyn,” Sansa said.

Ser Ilyn silently stared for a few more moments before he turned and walked away. ““Did I say something wrong, Your Grace? Why will he not speak to me?” Sansa asked, her voice worried.

“Ser Ilyn has not been feeling talkative these past fourteen years,” Lord Renly commented with a sly smile.

Joffrey gave his uncle a look of pure loathing. “Aerys Targaryen had his tongue ripped out with hot pincers,” he told Sansa gently.

“He speaks most eloquently with his sword, however,” the queen said, “and his devotion to our realm is unquestioned.” Then she smiled graciously and said, “my dear girls. The good councillors and I must speak together until the king returns with your father. I fear we shall have to postpone your day with Myrcella. Please give your sweet sister my apologies. Joffrey, perhaps you would be so kind as to entertain our guests today.”

“It would be my pleasure, Mother,” Joffrey said very formally. He stepped between the two sisters and held out an arm for each, leading them away from the wheelhouse. He looked very gallant like this, sword at his hip, head held high. Alysanne liked him like this. Thank the gods he had never again shown the same anger he had that first day in the godswood, but Alysanne still watched him, waiting for it to return. 

“What would you like to do?” Joffrey asked, after they had walked for a moment. 

Alysanne thought for a moment. “I do not know,” she admitted.

“We could go riding?” Joffrey said after a moment of reflection.

“I��love riding,” Alysanne smiled.

“As do I,” Sansa added. Aly furrowed her brow slightly. Sansa hated riding, it was the reason she had refused to join Aly and Arya on their horses the entire journey. Trying to impress the prince then. 

Joffrey glanced back at Lady and Meleys, who were following at their heels. “Your wolves are liable to frighten the horses, and my dog seems to frighten you, Lady Sansa. Let us leave them all behind and set off on our own, what do you say?”

Alysanne smiled. Though she would enjoy taking Meleys, other horses were not as used to her as Balerion was. “I do agree that would be the best decision,” she said.

“Is it safe to leave the Hound behind?” Sansa asked.

Prince Joffrey looked annoyed that she would even ask. “Have no fear, lady. I am almost a man grown, and I don’t fight with wood like your brothers. All I need is this.” He drew his sword and showed it to her; a longsword adroitly shrunken to suit a boy of twelve, gleaming blue steel, castle-forged and double-edged, with a leather grip and a lion's head pommel in gold. Alysanne pursed her lips slightly at the subtle insult to her brothers, and had to restrain herself from pointing out she was closer to grown and a better fighter. “I call it Lion’s Tooth,” he said.

They did eventually leave the two wolves and his guard behind, heading into the words on horseback.

---

It was a wonderful day. Sansa’s contant fawning over the prince was slightly grating but Alysanne was able to, mostly, ignore it and focus on spending time with her sister and betrothed. “Shouldn’t we be starting back?” she asked as the sun was beginning to lower in the sky.

“Soon,” Joffrey said. “The battleground is right up ahead, where the river bends. That was where my father killed Rhaegar Targaryen, you know. He smashed in his chest, crunch , right through the armour.” Joffrey swung an imaginary warhammer to show her how it was done. “Then my uncle Jaime killed old Aerys, and my father was king. What’s that sound?”

Alysanne heard it too. Sansa as well if the tenseness of her frame was any indication. Aly cocked her head to listen. “Wood on wood,” she said after a moment of listening. 

“Let us go back,” Sansa said.

““I want to see what it is.” Joffrey turned his horse in the direction of the sounds. Aly, who was also intrigued at the sound, followed, and Sansa had no choice but to follow them. 

The noises grew louder and more distinct, the clack of wood on wood, and as they grew closer they heard heavy breathing as well, and now and then a grunt. “Someone’s there,” Sansa said anxiously. Alysanne wished they had brought Meleys and Lady, perhaps her sister would be less worried if they had. 

“You’re safe with me.” Joffrey drew his Lion’s Tooth from its sheath. Alysanne found herself also wishing that she had brought a blade. “This way,” he said, riding through a stand of trees.

The three dismounted as they neared the sound and walked over the final hill to come to the bank of the river. Alysanne felt all tension drain from her when she saw who it was. Arya and Mycah were swiping at each other with sticks. Of course. 

“ Arya?” Sansa’s shocked exclamation distracted Arya from her fight, Mycah managing to get a hit on her arm when she turned to look at them.

“Your sister?” Joffrey asked them, still walking forward. Alysanne and Sansa both nodded. 

“Go away,” Arya shouted back at them. “What are you doing here? Leave us alone.”

Joffrey ignored her, looking towards the boy. “And who are you boy?” He asked.

“Mycah,”  the boy muttered. “M’lord.”

““He’s the butcher’s boy,” Sansa said.

“He’s my friend,” Arya said sharply. “You leave him alone.” 

“A butcher’s boy who wants to be a knight, is it?” Joffrey mocked, holding Lion’s Tooth in front of him. “Pick up your sword, butcher’s boy,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “Let us see how good you are.”

Alysanne felt a shock run down her spine. He surely didn’t mean to fight the boy with steel against wood? “Go on, pick it up. Or do you only fight little girls?” Joffrey mocked.

“Joffrey,” Alysanne said. Joffrey ignored her.

“She ast me to, m’lord,” Mycah said. “She ast me to. It’s only a stick, m’lord. It’s not no sword, it’s only a stick.” He insisted.

“I am your prince. Not your lord.” Joffrey said. He lifted Lion’s Tooth and laid its point on Mycah’s cheek below the eye, as the butcher’s boy stood trembling. “That was my lady’s sister you were hitting, do you know that?” A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah’s flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy’s cheek.

“ Stop it!” Arya screamed. 

“Arya stay out of this,” Sansa told her.

“Joffrey. Stop.” Alysanne called.

“I won’t hurt him . . . much,” Prince Joffrey told them, never taking his eyes off the butcher’s boy. Much… much. The words rang in Alysanne’s head.

Arya went for him.

Alysanne ran forward but she was too far away and too slow. Arya swung with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince’s head, and then everything happened at once before Alysanne’s horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Mycah ran for the trees as fast as his legs would take him. Arya swung at the prince again, but this time Joffrey caught the blow on Lion’s Tooth and sent her broken stick flying from her hands. The back of his head was all bloody and his eyes were on fire. Sansa was shrieking, “No, no, stop it, stop it, both of you, you’re spoiling it,” but no one was listening. Arya stumbled back and fell, landing on her backside. Joffrey stood over her, spitting insults.

Then a grey blur flashed past her, and suddenly Nymeria was there, leaping, jaws closing around Joffrey’s sword arm. The steel fell from his fingers as the wolf knocked him off his feet, and they rolled in the grass, the wolf snarling and ripping at him, the prince shrieking in pain. “Get it off,” he screamed. “Get it off!”

Alysanne reached them then. But she was no fool and would not risk her hands trying to pull anothers wolf off him. “Nymeria!” Arya called, stumbling to her feet. There was a snarl and a white shape hurled into Nymeria. Meleys. Her wolf pushed her sister off of Joffrey and stood over him, snarling. “Meleys!” Alysanne recalled her wolf. She stalked to Alysanne’s side.

“She didn’t hurt you . . . much,” Arya spat at Joffrey. She picked up Lion’s Tooth where it had fallen, and stood over him, holding the sword with both hands.

Jofftey made a scared whimpering sound as he looked up at her. “No,” he said, “don’t hurt me. I’ll tell my mother.”

“Arya!” Alysanne warned. Though she too was furious at Joffrey, it would not be wise for her sister to hurt him.

Arya whirled and heaved the sword into the air, putting her whole body into the throw. The blue steel flashed in the sun as the sword spun out over the river. It hit the water and vanished with a splash. Joffrey moaned. Arya ran off, Nymeria loping at her heels.

“Joffrey!” Alysanne called, dropping to her knees beside him. Meleys paced beside her, hackles still raised. “Are you alright?” Joffrey just looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “Sansa! Go get help!”

Sansa who was still standing away, clutching her chest, ran off too. Alysanne looked back at Joffrey. For the first time since their time together in the godswood, Alysanne saw something in her betrotheds eyes that made her skin crawl.

---

Alysanne walked beside her father, trying to spot her sister through the crowd of people as they neared the courtyard. Three days Arya had been gone, Alysanne spending every waking hour searching until they heard that Jory had found her. 

“Arya!” Father called as he pushed through the crowd. Aly spotted her then, standing in the centre of the room, alone except for Jory, who had found her. When she saw Father she broke down, collapsing into his arms and sobbing ‘ I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Over and over again. When he released her and stood, Alysanne stepped forward to take her sister into her protective embrace. She looked around for friendly faces, Jory was one. Lord Renly wore an expression that could mean anything. Ser Barristan looked grave. Lord Darry’s face was guarded. So they were alone then.

“What is the meaning of this?” Father demanded. “Why was I not told that my daughter had been found?  Why was she not brought to me at once?” 

He had spoken to the king, but the queen responded. “How dare you speak to your king in that manner!” 

At that, the king stirred. “Quiet, woman,” he snapped. He straightened in his seat. “I am sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. It seemed best to bring her here and get the business done with quickly.” 

“And what business is that?” Father’s voice was ice. 

The queen stepped forward. “You know full well, Stark. This girl of yours attacked my son. Her and her butcher’s boy. That animal of hers tried to tear his arm off.” 

“That’s not true,” Arya said loudly. “She just bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah.” 

“Joff told us what happened,” the queen said. “You and the butcher boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him.” Of course he had lied. Alysanne knew it was inevitable, the prince could not tell them all that he had been hurting the boy and Arya just defended her friend. 

“Yes it is!” Prince Joffrey insisted. “They all attacked me, and she threw Lion’s Tooth in the river!” He spoke about Arya but he was looking at Alysanne. She stared back, expression carefully controlled.

“Liar!” Arya yelled.

“Shut up!” the prince yelled back. “Enough!” the king roared, his voice thick with irritation. Silence fell. He glowered at Arya through his thick beard. “Now, child, you will tell me what happened. Tell it all, and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king.” Then he looked over at his son. “When she is done, you will have your turn. Until then, hold your tongue.”

Arya told the story true as Alysanne knew it, her voice never faltering, her grey gaze never leaving the king. When she got to the part where she threw Joffrey’s sword into the middle of the Trident, Renly Baratheon began to laugh. The king bristled. “Ser Barristan, escort my brother from the hall before he chokes.”

Lord Renly stifled his laughter. “My brother is too kind. I can find the door myself.” He bowed to Joffrey. “Perchance later you’ll tell me how an eleven-year-old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a broom handle and throw your sword in the river.” Alysanne had to contain her own laugh at that.

Prince Joffrey was pale as he began his very different version of events. When his son was done talking, the king rose heavily from his seat, looking like a man who wanted to be anywhere but here. “What in all the seven hells am I supposed to make of this? He says one thing, she says another.”

“They were not the only ones present, Lady Alysanne,” the queen said. Alysanne tensed. “Tell us, what happened.”

Alysanne straightened, she locked eyes with Joffrey again “Arya tells it true, to my knowledge.” She said, her eyes not leaving the prince. His eyes flashed with anger at her words, but he held his tongue. 

The queen’s lip twisted into a snarl. “Lady Sansa,” she snapped, “What of your telling?”

Sansa was supposed to be in bed.  “She is-” Father began. Sansa walked from the crowd and Father fell silent. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone. She blinked at her sister, then at the young prince. “I don’t know,” she said tearfully, looking as though she wanted to bolt. “I don’t remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn’t see…”

“Liar!” Arya snapped. She launched herself away from Alysanne and at Sansa. “Liar. Liar. Liar” She repeated,

“Arya!” Alysanne admonished, grabbing her littlest sister and pulling her back. “Enough!”

“The girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers,” Cersei Lannister said. “Robert, I want her punished.” 

“Seven hells,” the king swore. “Cersei, look at her. She’s a child. What would you have me do, whip her through the streets? Damn it, children fight. It’s over. No lasting harm was done.” 

The queen was furious. “Joff will carry those scars for the rest of his life.” 

Robert Baratheon looked at his eldest son. “You let that little girl disarm you?” Shame covered the prince's features. “Ned, see that your daughter is disciplined. I will do the same with my son.” 

“Gladly, Your Grace,” Father said, tension draining from his shoulders. 

Robert started to walk away, but the queen was not done. “And what of the direwolf?” she called after him. “What of the beast that savaged your son?” 

The king stopped, turned back, frowned. “I’d forgotten about the damned wolf.” 

Alysanne felt Arya tense. Jory spoke up quickly. “We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace.” 

Robert did not look unhappy. “No? So be it.” 

“We have another wolf,” Cersei Lannister said. “In fact we have two.”

A cold dread ran over Alysanne at her words but the king just shrugged irritably. “As you will. Have Ser Ilyn see to it.”

“Robert, you cannot mean this,” Father protested. 

The king was in no mood for more argument. “Enough, Ned, I will hear no more. A direwolf is a savage beast. Sooner or later it would have turned on your girls the same way the other did on my son. Get them dogs, they’ll be happier for it.” 

Happier. Gods no. Meleys was a part of her. Her heart. Her soul. They could not take her. Sansa finally seemed to comprehend. Her eyes were frightened as they went to her father. “He doesn’t mean Lady, does he?” She saw the truth on his face. ���No,” she said. “No, not Lady, Lady didn’t bite anybody, she’s good…”

“Lady wasn’t there!” Arya shouted. “And Meleys protected him,” she pointed at Joffrey.

Alysanne looked towards her betrothed, eyes beseeching. “Joffrey,” she breathed. He flinched. “If you hold any affection in your heart for me. You will not do this.” 

Joffrey gulped, looking into her eyes for a moment before he spoke. “Only one wolf bit me.”

The queen looked at her son. “So be it,” she declared. “Kill the grey one.”

“No!” Aly, Sansa and Arya said at the same time. Sansa began to weep, collapsing into Jory’s arms.

“Take the girls to bed,” Father told Jory. Alysanne did not hear what he said next. Too focused on the thoughts racing through her head. She had to save Lady.

As Jory led them from the hall, Alysanne pulled away from her sisters. She did not speak as she walked away from them, ignoring Jory and Arya’s calls. She almost stumbled to where Lady and Meleys were tied up near the horses, collapsing next to them. 

She ran her hand over Meleys’ shoulder, tears pooling in her eyes. “I am so sorry girl,” she muttered. “But this is where we say goodbye.” She could not just free Lady, the queen wanted a pelt and Alysanne would not let any wolf remain near her grasping hands. Meleys whined as Alysanne pulled out her dagger and began to cut through the rope around her neck, trying her hardest to make it look like the rope had been chewed off, not cut. Once she was finished with Meleys she moved to Lady. Ever the perfect wolf she was still as Aly cut. 

When they were both free Aly sheathed her blade and stood. Tears falling down her cheeks. “Go,” she choked out. “Go find Nymeria.” The two wolves stared at her. “Go,” she repeated, pushing at them. “Go!” Meleys’ red eyes stared into her own for a moment before she turned and ran, Lady following behind. 

Alysanne watched the direction they had run for a moment, before turning and walking back towards their tent. 

That night, she fell asleep to the sound of three distant howls and the queen's angry shouts.

F&W masterlist / post masterlist

[mymainwastoocluttered]

The Butler Types (Jade/MC/Barbatos)

Jade has no fears. What is it? There's a demon butler visiting NRC? Jade has one fear.

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

I'm bitter because it's my birthday and Halloween Jade refuses to come, so I'll celebrate it with the better butler boy. *glares at Jade*

— (`⌒*)O-(`⌒´Q)

Jade is not one for fear.

Sure, he has his fair share of them. One simply does not grow up in Coral Sea without developing some. But one also simply does not grow in Coral Sea without losing some.

So Jade isn't one for fear.

But why does it have to be a butler type?

Jade can only watch, eye twitching in a nervous tic he got from Azul, as his crush ogles at the demon butler in front of her, hanging at his every word and blushing under his gaze.

His name is Barbatos, he is the loyal butler of Lord Diavolo, the Crown Prince of Devildom and the Headmaster of the Royal Academy of Diavolo, one of the few schools that might be older than NRC and even Crowley himself.

And he's exactly (Y/N)'s type.

A good looking, devilish butler with a gentle appearance and behavior who hides something darker and dangerous behind his tea brewing skills and overall otherworldly excellence? Big hell yes from her.

Why does Jade know that? Jade knows everything he possibly can about his crush, including the knowledge that he is exactly her type.

Or, at least, he's the closest anyone at NRC can get to her type.

He understandably did not account for possible visits from the Devildom, a Kingdom that has kept to itself for most, if not all, of its existence, and now he's paying the price. Floyd, the menace, is having a field day, watching from the bench they share as his other half gets more and more agitated while the demon charms Shrimpy.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I holding you up? You must be busy with Lord Diavolo– I mean, with helping Lord Diavolo," Jade feels like eating glass at the enamoured look (Y/N) sends the demon, clearly not wanting to part but also not wanting to be rude.

"No need to worry, my lady, the Young Lord has given me some free time while he speaks with Lord Crowley," Barbatos gives her a smile the eel just knows is making her legs weak. "And I'm enjoying your company very much."

Barbatos is particularly hateful because he's actually being nice. His niceness is inherent, not trained like Jade's. And the eel can tell the Prefect can tell, she's good at judging one's character. It's one of the reasons why they get along so well, she can tell when Jade is being genuine or not, a skill very few have.

If only that skill wasn't helping the green haired demon get closer to her.

"O–oh, I see..." The girl places her hands on her burning cheeks, and Jade feels another bitter sting. That is his face, that's the face only he can get from her when he compliments her. "Thank you for your kind words."

"All of them true, I assure you."

"Oh, stop it, I'm already blushing."

"It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable, my lady, but... I must admit you look very lovable," Barbatos offers a hand to her, one she shyly takes, only to then squeak when he places a soft kiss on the back of her hand. "Please, allow me to be selfish and keep you by my side for a few more moments."

Enough.

Jade walks so fast, it almost feels like he's swimming through the air. Floyd's loud laugh follows him like a predator, together with a playful "go get'em, tiger shark". As soon as he reaches the duo, he takes a silent deep breath, making sure his usual smile is on his face as he takes (Y/N)'s other hand, a privilege he earned, and brings it to his chest, right on his beating heart

"There you are, Prefect. I've been looking for you."

"J–Jade!" The eel is more than please to see her eyes completely leave the other to focus solely on him, the blush on her pretty face now all his.

When he looks up, mismatched eyes meet green eyes, and he can tell Barbatos has been fully aware of his presence from the very beginning. A sharp—quite literally—smile forms on his face at the annoyance in the other's eyes.

Ah, the greed of a servant who finally found something they want to be selfish about.

Would be entertaining if what the demon wanted wasn't Jade's already.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

boyfriend!bakugou headcannons

before dating

- will start noticing you only after you either,,

A) do something intentionally heroic

B) do something incredibly stubborn/borderline reckless to save someone

-there is no room in his big boy ego brain for anyone who doesn’t possess hero qualities,, soz thats just the way it is

-thats not to say he would only date someone from the hero course tho,, he would 100% take interest in someone from any course

-as long as they’re as dedicated to helping others and giving their 100% to everything they do,, he’d be happy

-would watch you for a long time but would be incredibly obvious about it. he’d try and hide it and be sneaky, but everyone knows. even you.

-when he finally asks you out, there was not a single plan involved. he just saw you alone and decided to man up about it on a whim

-that being said- after he does ask you out, he immeadiately panics about what to do on your first date. que frantic google searching-

top searches from that night include

how do cool guys dress

how to stop blushing

first date ideas that arent romantic

why am i sweating so much

-first date is an utter disaster by traditional standards

-he takes you somewhere with an athletic aspect- like minigolf or laser tag. he pays for you but immeadiately follows it up with “you better actually play and don’t just make me waste my money! its not gonna be fun kicking your ass unless you try, got it?”

-you have fun and can’t stop smiling- but not bc lil katsuki is charming you.

-no, you’re smiling bc he’s embarrassing himself at every turn trying to impress you. at first it’s a little off-putting, but then you realize just how much he cares and it’s kinda cute

-cute in the a dog-chasing-it’s-tail-until-it-gets-dizzy-and-falls-over kinda cute; but adorable nonetheless

-bakugou walks away from the date thinking he crushed it. just absolutely blew it out of the water,, there’s no doubt in his mind even though there 100% should be

early relationship

-incredibly touchy,, but not in like traditional or “cute” ways

-prior to you, bakugou’s only significant feeling was pure rage,, so needless to say he doesn’t know how to handle his sudden urge to touch you all the time

-he’s super nervous about it and doesn’t know if it’s suddenly okay hug and touch you as much as he wants to,, so he resorts to less traditional means of skinship

-so he’ll flick your forehead when you smile just right at him. he’ll pinch your cheeks when you talk too much. he’ll drop his hand flat and heavy over yours while you’re writing,, just so the pencil skitters across the page and you yell at him.

-he’ll push you over. not like a hard shove or anything,, but if he sees you sitting on the ground or squatting, he’ll just sort of push you over??? especially if you’re standing up from a chair,,

-ofc he catches you before you can fall or anything, but really he just uses “saving” you as an excuse to touch you

-he’ll push at you, catch you, and then smirk at you with “god, you’re so clumsy. i won’t always be around to save your sorry ass, you know.”

-it’s annoying so you just push him away and glare, but unfortunately for you, that’s what he wanted the whole time bc he’s a little shit

-that being said,, he’s still suprisingly sweet in even weirder ways

-bakugou’ll make you food. but he’ll never be around when you eat it,, you’ve tried before to eat the meals he cooks for you right after he cooks them, but he gets too embarrassed and finds an excuse to leave right when you’re about to eat the first bite

-he’ll tease you. a lot. about everything. but nobody else can tease you,, if somebody’s embarrassing you, bakugou will either threaten them until they stop talking or make a scene until nobody is paying attention to you anymore

-he’ll leave you little notes. most of them just have little doodles on them with reminders about homework or training, but they’re cute nonetheless

-when he takes you out on dates his hands always crackle when he first sees you. you’ve come to learn that the more dressed up you are, the more his palms will crackle

-normally you have to be the one to initiate any sort of romantic contact,, pls just kiss him already he’s almost always thinking about it but cant find the courage to do so

-when he does kiss or hug you on his own accord,, don’t say anything. he’ll pull away super quick and get all red!!!

established relationship

- suuuper clingy

-, not in the sense that he’s constantly phyiscally all over you,, he just won’t go anywhere with the class if you’re staying back, or will just follow you around the whole day if he’s got nothing else to do

-like,, if the bakusquad is looking for him they’re honestly just better off looking for you since he’s never far behind

-strangely enough, bakugou’s pretty quiet?? if he’s comfortable around you, he’ll stop being so prideful and picking so many arguments.

-his whole badass front at school wears him out,, so if katsuki comes to hang out with you after a long school day he’ll probably want to sit and just listen to you talk

-is a whole ass cat when it comes to physical affection. he normally acts indifferent entirely, but when he wants attention he wants attention

-might as well just drop everything you’re doing since he’s gonna throw you on the bed and just lay directly on top of you until you stop fighting him

-pet his hair super softly and tell him he’s strong and that you’re proud of him pls,, katsuki will cry

-formal dates happen less often now, but you see him more,,, in fact, you’re almost never without him. when he’s not doing school or studying or training katsuki is always where you are

-he’s pretty possessive and jealous- not just of like other guys, but literally anything that’s getting your attention. see examples 1 & 2

1.) ooo new book that has you super enthralled??? soz, it’s not just your book anymore. katsuki sits you on his lap and tells you that the only way he’s gonna let you continue to “waste your time on something so stupid” is if you read it out loud to him

2.) omg you got a new puppy that you’re just enamoured with?? tough, it’s bakugou’s puppy now too,, and he never lets it leave his side so the only way you’re gonna get to cuddle with the puppy is if you cuddle with bakugou too

-he’s super proud of you so he’ll introduce you as his s/o to everyone he meets,,, and if the person he’s talking to also has an s/o??? good lord katsuki would never shut tf up about how much better and stronger and cooler you two were than the other couple

-is not embarrassed about pda. at all. if everyone already knows you’re together than there’s nothing to hide,, he thinks that since he put in all the work to get you to love him than he should be able to reap the rewards,, anywhere. at anytime.

-that being said, he does find showing affection in front of others to be v v embarassing!!! so to combat that he turns it up to 11 and flirts and flusters you so bad so that all the 1A guys just think he’s super cool and manly with u instead of soft

-that being said, the second you guys are alone it’s like a switch has been flipped and you could fluster him only by batting your eyes just right

-insists you ‘cook’ with him. katsuki doesn’t let you do much but like cut up vegetables or stir, but he likes to listen to you talk while he does everything else

-generally pretty touch starved but only really indulges if you make the first move. like, he won’t ever tell you to come sit with him on the couch, but if you sit down?? then immeadiately he’s pulling you into his side and doesn’t let you up until he’s ready to get up as well

-still pokes and flicks and shoves you. also now feels comfortable enough to prank you. he thinks you’re adorable when you get mad enough to yell at him so prepare to be mad a lot.

-tells you he loves you damn near constantly. he wont say it first tho bc ~tsundere~ but after you admitted it first, he’ll say it. and once you know??? then he’s gonna make sure it’s known,,, blasty baby doesnt do anything half-assed esp not something as important as showing his love

-he likes to pick out your clothes for you bc otherwise you’ll walk about looking too cute and its a problem bc he never figured out how to get his hands to stop crackling

-will call you dumbass, idiot, moron, halfwit, klutz, etc in public but in private it’s usually princess or little brat or very rarely baby

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 19

Representative Jaira Deere of the Trade Federation was more than she seemed. After their morning session, which broke for lunch, the Representative was dragged unconscious into the dining room.

“Your Grace-”

Ambassador Dee stood, “Jaira, what happened?”

“We found her by Count Vizsla’s cell, talking to the prisoner,” Gorg explained, “she mentioned something about corruption, but hit her head against the cell before she could be questioned.”

The Ambassador looked deeply saddened, betrayed, almost. Satine knew the feeling.

“Put her next to the Count,” the Duchess ordered, “make sure she gets any medical attention she needs.”

Gorg bowed and went to follow Satine’s orders.

“I must apologize, Your Highness,” Trai Dee bent his knees, “I did not know this would happen.”

“I do not blame you, Ambassador,” Satine said kindly, “we all have been decided in this business.”

After lunch, the trade discussion was finalized. Certain safe trade routes between Mandalore and Coruscant could not be found, so Mandalorian cargo ships were granted access into both Seperatist and Republic space. Of course, this was only allowed when on duty and transporting goods, offending this statute was punishable by imprisonment. To further limit misbehavior, Mandalorian trade ships were only allowed to take off after an inspection and on certain days of the week. Any Mandalorian cargo ship flying on Saturday or Sunday would have its contents thoroughly examined. The Duchess would personally speak with the Dock Managers in the next few days to help smooth the transition.

“I would like to apologize again, Your Grace,” Ambassador Dee frowned, “I can’t believe about Jaira.”

“No need to apologize,” Satine frowned, “war breeds betrayal.”

After a moment of silence, Trai Dee spoke quietly.

“She’s my niece.”

“My sister leads the Death Watch with her childhood friend.”

“We are in a similar position, then.”

Satine looked down, “It is a terrible place to be.”

“If I may, Your Grace,” Ambassador Dee turned, “I would make friends with both the Separatists and the Republic, this war is going to last a long time.”

“I want to stay out of this war.” Satine countered.

“It is impossible,” Dee shook his head, “as the head of the Council of Neutral Systems that would be moral, but you need to protect your people.”

Satine nodded, “And my friendship with the senator offends some.”

“Yes.” 

The Duchess swallowed, “I will take your advice, Ambassador, but for now let’s see to your niece.”

Jaira Deere and Tarrei Vizsla had already been questioned and the Duchess and the Ambassador were given sheets with all the information the guards had gleaned.

“Representative Deere was paid on Coruscant by a Seperatist contact to cause a disruption,” Gorg frowned, “it appears that Count Dooku is invested in taking Mandalore.”

“Why?” Satine growled.

“Many people are trying to bring down Senator Amidala,” Jaym slapped a sheet on the table, “reports of new assasination attempts have just come in.”

“They want to shake her and take out your influence,” Ambassador Dee stood, “I would suggest political maneuverings. I am going to see my niece.”

Satine’s mind whirled. Count Dooku, what did she know about Count Dooku? Death Watch didn’t like him, perhaps she should contact her sister.

“An emergency meeting with my private council,” the Duchess stood, “I need the Prime Minister.”

It took five minutes to assemble everyone and inform them of the situation.

“You must contact your Jedi friends too,” the Prime Minister suggested, “get all the info on Count Dooku.”

A plan wormed into Satine’s head.

“We can give Count Dooku to the Jedi,” she grinned, “we invite him here on friendly premise, and get Death Watch to capture him and send him to the Jedi.”

“That is an ambitious plan.” an advisor sighed.

“It does hinge on many things,” Satine agreed, “but the Count has many enemies.”

While one of Satine’s aides filed to meet with the Jedi Council, Satine discussed the new trading plan with her advisors.

“I shall accompany you when Your Grace visits the docks,” Jaru Djarin decided, “we need to send a message to our people.”

“I agree.”

Satine’s comm dinged, it was Obi-Wan. The Duchess didn’t know if she was furious or enamoured. 

“Your Grace, are you alright?”

“Excuse me.”

Satine hid the fresher and commed her Jedi.

“You filed a petition?” were his first words.

“We’ve a plan to capture Count Dooku.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“It’s possible, he wants to capture Mandalore.”

“How will allying with him help that?”

“Bo will capture him before it comes to that.”

Satine could hear Obi-Wan arguing with himself mentally.

“Be careful with my children.” he rasped.

“We’ll be fine.” Satine assured, slightly surprised.

When Satine returned, her staff informed her that the Jedi Council would hear her plan.

“Good,” the Duchess nodded, steeling herself, “when?”

“This afternoon,” the Prime Minister answered, “we have much to do.”

After bidding adieu to the Ambassador, Satine contacted Padme for anything and everything that she knew about the Sith Lord. Next, Satine prepared a formal invitation to Mandalore with her ruling council.

“Inviting a Sith Lord to Mandalore?” Countess Barlor gasped.

“Friendly premises,” Governor Eldar added, “what friendly premises?”

“A celebration of our dealings with both the Separatists and the Republic.” Satine answered.

The Prime Minister shook her head, “Not good enough.”

Satine stiffened, she did, of course, have a backup plan, but she hated the idea, and she hadn’t told Obi-Wan about it.

“Duchess?”

“I will ask him if he’s interested in assuming the title of Duke Consort.”

“No!” Countess Bralor gasped.

Silence descended over the council.

“I will invite him to court me,” Satine swallowed, “that is what the visit is for.”

Governor Eldar was gaping.

“That could work.” Prime Minister Djarin said quietly.

In the silence that followed, Satine stood.

“I must speak with my sister.”

In her private parlor, Satine commed a number she hadn’t called since it was given to her.

“Sister?” “Bo,” Satine gasped, “I’m going to ask Count Dooku to court me.”

Bo-Katan Kryze muttered a string of curses that Satine hadn’t heard since they were girls.

“I need you to rally your troops and help me capture him when he comes.”

“Oh,” Bo breathed a sigh of relief, “that’s better.”

“We’re going to hand him over to the Jedi.” 

Bo-Katan was silent for a moment, “That’s ambitious.”

“I won’t underestimate him.”

“Satine,” her sister groaned, “have you thought about this?”

“Yes, Bo.”

Bo-Katan was silent for a moment.

“Let me know when he’ll arrive in Sundari.”

“Thank you.”

Now, the Duchess realized, she was at the hardest part.

“Should I send him a letter first?” Satine asked Jaru.

“Send him a hologram through our Separatist Diplomat, ask to speak with him privately.” suggested the Prime Minister.

Satine recorded the hologram in her personal parlor. Running over what she would say as Parna tightened her corset, Satine found herself exceedingly nervous.

“You won’t actually marry him,” Khaami assured, “it’ll be alright.”

“Still,” Satine stiffened, “a Sith Lord?”

Khaami raised an eyebrow. Fortunately, the Duchess’ comm rang.

“He-”

“Satine, tell me it’s not true!”

“Padme, I-”

“Your meeting with the Jedi Council about a Seperatist problem,” the Senator read, “do tell me what that problem is and how Count Dooku relates to it.”

Satine sighed, “We’re going to trick him and send him into Republic custody.”

“Why is that any of your business?”

“I need connections to both sides.”

“Satine, no-”

“Padme, it’s the only way to save my people,” the Duchess argued, “we need friends, not enemies.”

“Satine, this will only make you enemies.” countered Senator Amidala.

“Padme,” Satine swallowed, “I’m going to ask if he will court me.”

Silence.

“What the actual, kriffing-”

“Shut up, Anakin,” Padme called, “Satine’s not serious.”

“I am,” the Duchess reiterated, “if he courts me, I will contract the Death Watch to fight for him.”

“Oh, Satine-”

“I also intend to show my support for the Jedi.”

“How?” Anakin spat.

“Ani-”

“Satine, really?”

“Korkie will accompany our ambassador to the Republic Senate to allow the Jedi free reign of Mandalorian space and ask if Master Vos and his Padawan would appreciate an extended stay on Mandalore.”

“Satine,” Padme’s voice was shaky, “this is very dangerous.”

“I know.”

“Then why?” Padme whispered.

“Count Dooku is invested in taking Mandalore, we captured his players,” Satine explained, “and if we’re neutral, we’re in more danger than if we are tied to both sides.”

“Satine,” Anakin spoke up, “if you invite him to meet you, he might sense the twins.”

The Duchess grew cold, “What?”

“Force users can sense other force users,” Anakin swallowed, “even if they aren’t born yet.”

Satine cursed, something she almost never did.

“Another reason why this is a bad idea.” Padme added.

“He might not respond right away,” Satine stated, “he could wait.”

“Satine, I have to go,” Padme frowned, “but know I don’t like this.”

“Good luck with the Council.” Anakin added.

The Duchess sighed, “Thanks.”

Satine looked up, Khaami took back the comm.

“We’re ready.” Parna announced, stepping out of the frame.

The Duchess straightened, Khaami nodded, “Good evening, Count Dooku, I trust you know I am Duchess Satine of Mandalore. I have a proposition with for you-”

Here, she took a breath.

“My people need allies that can provide security, and I would like assistance on that matter from the Seperatist Alliance,” Satine continued, “my advisors and I were very disappointed with Jaira Deere, but we are willing to look past this and offer you the title of Duke of Mandalore.”

“Should you accept, an agreement will need to be reached and the public informed,” Satine smiled pleasantly, “I hope you consider my proposal with seniority.”

Khaami turned off the hologram, Parna heaved a sigh of relief.

“I will have this transferred to our Seperatist Ambassador,” Khaami stood, “I wish you the best of luck with the Jedi Council.”

“Thank you, Khaami,” Satine nodded, “it will be quite the day.”

Downstairs in the meeting room, Satine’s personal advisors were waiting along with Jaru. Satine sat at the head of the table and signaled to the Prime Minister she was ready.

“Duchess Satine,” a blue form of Master Windu greeted, “we have been told you wish to discuss the Separatists and Count Dooku.”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, “our recent capture of a Seperatsist informant has led us to conclude Count Dooku wants to take Mandalore-”

“Certain, are you?”

“Yes,” Satine straightened, “and we’ve sent him a hologram inviting him to visit Sundari.”

“Are you going to ally with the Separatists?” asked a familiar voice.

“No,” Satine turned to Obi-Wan, “we intend to capture him using Death Watch and turn him into you.”

“Death Watch,” Master Windu frowned, “your enemies?”

“My sister,” Satine began, “the leader of the resistance movement against me, has already agreed to the plan. Death Watch despises Count Dooku.”

There came a moment of silence.

“Sure he will come, are you?”

“The Count is an ambitious man,” Satine frowned, “we have offered him a much sought after title that would give him more power in the galaxy.”

Master Kenobi frowned, “What exactly is that title?”

Satine looked to Jaru, who nodded.

“Duke Consort of Mandalore.”

Master Windu stiffened, “If you are capable of such a plan, how do we know you are not deceiving us?”

“In a few hours,” Satine continued, “I will step down as Head of the Council of Neutral systems, my main goal is to protect my people, Master Jedi, and Death Watch and all the betrayal this war has caused my system proved that peace is not the best tactic.”

In the quiet that followed, Satine shifted. One of the twins got her father’s devious genes and was kicking her bladder. Nasty. Speaking of Obi-Wan Kenobi, his face was a mask, but the Duchess learned how to read him a long time ago. He was mad, worried, and needed time to think.

“Court you, Count Dooku will, hm?”

“Yes.” Satine nodded.

“Consider your options you must,” Master Yoda stated, “help protect your people, the Republic can.”

“That is also why, while the Count is courting me, I am willing to open up Mandalorian space to Jedi spacecraft.”

Master Yoda considered this.

“Thin line, you are walking.”

“The Duchess is more than capable of doing her duty,” Prime Minister Djarin spoke up, “I am certain she will protect Mandalore.”

“How long will it take you to get Dooku in custody?” Master Ti asked.

“It will depend on how quickly he comes to Mandalore.” Satine responded.

“I suggest we send a Jedi to Mandalore,” Master Mundi suggested after a silence, “to help Her Grace and serve as an extra guard.”

“I volunteer my services if they are needed.”

Satine looked to Obi-Wan’s blue figure, he was staring at her.

“Thank you, master Kenobi,” Master Windu frowned, “but you’ve not yet returned from the Outer Rim and even then we have a job for you.”

“Anakin, then?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Need him too, we do.” Master Yoda dissented.

“Master Vos, perhaps,” Satine offered, “I believe he’s not integrally involved in the war effort.”

Master Mundi looked to Master Yoda.

“You’ve met Master Vos?” Master Ti asked.

“I’ve had the pleasure.” Satine responded dryly.

Obi-Wan smirked, and the Duchess found herself smiling too.

“Master Vos then,” Master Windu nodded, “and I believe his Padawan is Mandalorian.”

“Yes,” Master Yoda looked to Satine, “Mandalorian, she is.”

“Then she’s not an off-worlder,” an advisor of the Duchess’ added, “so she may carry her weapon.”

Satine shifted, Baby A, who had kicked earlier, still seemed to want to wrestle.

“Thank you for your initiative, Your Highness,” Master Windu smiled to the best of his ability, “we shall send Master Vos and his Padawan once Count Dooku has made his intentions clear.”

“You are very kind, Master Jedi, thank you.”

The comm ended, Satine breathed a sigh of relief and sank in her chair.

“Who shall you nominate in your place as Head of the council of Neutral systems?” asked Jaru.

“Senator Kin Robb,” the Duchess answered without hesitation, “her help has been invaluable to me and her planet is in the process of leaving both the Republic and the Seperatist Alliance.”

“Shall I schedule a call for you, Your Grace?” asked an advisor.

“Yes, thank you,” Satine stood, “I want to make my intentions known as soon as possible.”

The Duchess took the elevator up to her floor and would’ve collapsed if Jaym had not been there to catch her.

“Your Grace?”

“I’m alright,” Satine huffed, “help me to my room, Jaym.”

The guard did as he was told.

“Bring me Nurse Hera,” Satine ordered, climbing onto her bed, “and see if you can find my ladies.”

In the meantime, the Duchess struggled to undo her corset. Fortunately, when she was about half way through, her ladies appeared with Hera in tow.

Parna rushed to help her lady with her corset strings, “Oh, Satine.” 

“What are your symptoms?” Hera asked, opening her bag.

“They’re just active,” Satine sighed, “and it really hurts when they kick.”

“You're about six months and two weeks, correct?” Hera questioned.

“Yes.”

Satine groaned and fell backward as the pressure on her stomach released. She had a significant bump now, and the Duchess ran her hands along the hump that her twins had made.

“Alright,” Hera began, hands clean, “I’m going to check their placement and movement.”

Hera did, while Khaami answered Satine’s comm for her.

“This is Lady Khaami.”

“Hello, Lady Khaami, this is the Prime Minister,” Jaru’s voice crackled, “please tell Her Grace that I scheduled a dinnertime call with the Council of Neutral systems.”

“I will, thank you.”

Satine whined as Hera hit a pressure point.

“I think you need some time away from the corset,” Hera advised, “the girls need space to grow.”

With a sigh, Satine argued that she couldn’t do that.

“Perhaps you could call in from your room,” Parna suggested, “just your upper body on camera and we could tell the palace staff you’re feeling quite tired.”

“Hm,” Satine took a second to respond, “that could work.”

“More than a few hours would be beneficial,” Hera frowned, “are there any holes in your schedule tomorrow?”

“I think we’ll just be waiting for Count Dooku’s response,” Satine confessed, “but we also have to implement the new trade guidelines.”

“Stay in as long as you can.” Hera advised. “The Prime Minister and the Ruling Council can help with that,” Khaami offered, “I think you should rest.”

Satine sighed, “So do I.”

Parna stood, “I’ll prepare a comfortable outfit for this evening.”

Suddenly, Hera frowned.

“Satine, when was the last time you ate?”

The Duchess blushed, “Breakfast.”

Hera looked to Khaami. 

She stood, “I suppose that’s my cue.”

Hera laughed, nodding.

Satine sighed, “This is quite the mess I’m getting myself into.”

“Now you see it.” Parna agreed, returning with a dress.

“Parna,” Satine suddenly spoke up, “will you ask the PR Department to run a poll?”

“What do you want to ask?” questioned the lady.

“Whether or not people feel safe on Mandalore,” Satine stated, “whether or not they have confidence in the government, and what they think of the war and their Duchess.”

Parna raised an eyebrow, “Heavy questions.”

“Still.” Satine frowned.

With a sigh, Parna agreed. 

“I checked on that droid you have,” Hera spoke up, “it should be able to help assist in the delivery.”

“The battery is fixed?”

Hera grinned, “We had an extra one in the med bay.”

Satine considered herself pleased.

“And Khaami showed me the birthing chamber,” Hera hesitated, “it’s primal yet functional.”

Satine laughed, “This isn’t my first experience with birth.”

Hera’s eyes went wide, but raised her hands as the Duchess went to explain.

“I already know the father’s name is Ben,” the nurse stated, “and the less I know the better.”

Satine smiled softly, “Thank you.”

Khaami came in with a huge tray then, and Satine squealed in delight.

“I know,” the lady smiled, “I asked for your favorite tea too.”

Satine took the tray on her lap, which was harder to balance than it should’ve been.

“How have the pills been going?” Hera questioned.

The Duchess blushed, “Parna has to remind me most nights.”

Hera sighed.

“But I take them.” Satine added, hopeful. “That’s good.”

The Duchess ate and Hera bid goodbye. When Parna returned and Satine had finished, she changed into a silk nightgown and wrapped elegant furs over her chest and laced shoulders.

“Let me fix your hair.” Parna offered.

While she did this, Khaami fetched Satine’s favorite silver circlet with an emerald embedded in the center. Next, she set up the call zone.

“And,” Parna put the circlet on Satine’s head, “done.”

“Thank you,” Satine stood, “let’s hope this goes down easy.”

Khaami and Parna took their ceremonial places behind Satine after the lighting in her parlor was fixed.

“We’re ready now.” Khaami whispered.

Satine pressed a button.

“Duchess Satine,” Representative Uru nodded politely, “your Prime Minister said you wished to speak with us.”

“Yes,” Satine breathed, “it is my wish to step down from my position as Head of the Council of Neutral Systems.”

A beat of silence followed.

“I am not joining the war,” Satine clarified, “but our neutral stance has been jeopardizing the safety of my people, and I have decided to remove myself from a position where Mandalore can be manipulated for malintent.”

Representative Uru spoke first, “It is a noble cause, to protect one’s people, and I believe this Council is understanding of your situation.”

“Thank you.” Satine inclined her head.

“Who do you intend to nominate as your successor?” asked a fellow Council member.

“I would like to nominate the Honorable Kin Robb,” Satine stated, looking to the former Senator, “as my understudy, I believe she knows the ins and outs of the job and will perform them to the best of her ability.”

The woman smiled at the Satine, grateful for her words.

“If there are no objections in the quorum,” Representative Uru spoke up, “then we shall begin the process of transition for you, Duchess.”

No one spoke up.

Satine placed a hand to her chest, “You have my gratitude, esteemed members of the Council.” 

“You will still be a member of this body?” the farmer Senator asked.

“I shall,” Satine nodded, “but I shall take a less public role.”

After the video call, Satine had a strange craving for celery.

“Not surprising.” Khaami snorted, “I’ll go get some.”

“Thank you.” Satine grinned.

[lorei-writes]

Match-Up #28

Hello, @bees--in-my--bones​​ ! I hope you’re still around, because the match-making time is upon you ~! Also, you’re the first person I matched after I had a chance to sleep a little more, so beware of that.

Let’s shoot easy things off the list first. Some suitors appreciate being passionate to a fault more than others, no - even more than that, they deem it extremely important, even irreplaceable. I also presume some would take it as a sign of openness.

Mitsuhide (+1) Mitsunari (+1) Masamune (+2)

Now, to loyalty we go! I presume suitors who would not betray it may be the best choice. Perhaps somebody generally putting people they care about above the political matters and the like? Oh, I suppose those who never got to taste much stability and tend to stay more so on the vigilant side would be enamoured with it as well.

Nobunaga (+1) Mitsuhide (+1) Hideyoshi (+1) Kenshin (+1)

As for being funny, I suppose it would be universally appreciated - although... Yes, it is also entirely possible some suitors would find it rather annoying? Some of them are overly serious, oh my.

Hideyoshi (-1) Ieyasu (-1) Kenshin (-1)

And lastly, rational thinking + intelligence combo! Hmm... Well, surely, more so intellectual suitors would work well. However, the way you describe your rationality, I wonder whether it would not lead to rationalising the reality? As in, ah. Do hear me out, some suitors are guilty of it and of getting detached from their feelings. I worry those could amplify each other and lead to nothing good. [Suitors whose points zero-ed out were not brought up.]

Hideyoshi (+1) Shingen (+2) Yukimura (+1)

Cutting yourself off from others? Oh, I can see it as being a deal-breaker in regards to certain suitors, particularly those who need to be chased down with a pitchfork and a fishing net to actually get... I mean, whose who need to be made aware of their feelings, loyalties, priorities and such, no hunting there at all, obviously. Booty call? In the good old days of otome it was discount therapy mixed with booty hunt.

Masamune (+2) <- he tends to avoid relationships Kenshin (0) <- he needs to be confronted about his feelings before he is even able to commit to any relationship; disqualified also since you mentioned struggling with emotion talk yourself Ieyasu (-1) <- he is not only a meanie, but a tsundere meanie Yukimura (+1) <- another “I will hurt you to keep you safe and away from me” person, ah. I still wish him to find a tick between his buttocks.

Now, let’s see who survived the purge...

To struggling when talking about feelings we go! Hmm... Well, I suppose it could be problematic if suitor at hand did have the same problem, but, how do I... There is a difference in how Mitsunari approaches the topic, and the way Nobunga does. I suppose that, as long as there is no clear unwillingness to approach the topic, you should be all right. Some suitors are also rather fluent in regards to feelings, so that’s a plus for them!

Nobunaga (-1) Mitsuhide (+1) Hideyoshi (+1) Shingen (+1)

I can’t see fluctuating levels of talkativeness as a flaw, hence no points for that. It’s more of a... Quality, I would say? And I am sure all the remaining suitors would accept it as it is.

As for self-esteem issues and lack of drive... I can see it as something that would be seen as something not so attractive by some suitors, but I would also like to note some would probably encourage you to try anyway.

Nobunaga (-1) Mitsuhide (+1) Hideyoshi (+1) Mitsunari (+1)

1st Summary:

Shingen (+6) Mitsuhide (+4) Hideyoshi (+3) Mitsunari (+2) Nobunaga (-1)

Points distributed for likes:

Nobunaga (+3) <- sweets, adventure, learning Mitsuhide (+5) <- all; you could have all the sweets to yourself with him Hideyoshi (-1) <- hide away your sweets... Although that perhaps would be good if you’re trying to save up, but also, ah, let’s be honest, they could very well buy you sweets. Mitsunari (+2) <- reading, learning Shingen (+1) <- sweet drinks

Point distributed for dislikes:

Nobunaga (-4) <- being pushed aside (he is busy), extensive social interactions, expectation to be upfront about feelings, immature person (he is described as a bit of a man-child) Mitsuhide (+3) <- he does the opposite of all of those, except for pushing people aside. [It zeroed itself out] Hideyoshi (+3) <- he is the opposite of immature, takes the lead well while also taking the interest of others into account, he doesn’t seem to expect MC to be too upfront about her feelings [he does not forget about others, but it zeroed itself out with social interactions] Mitsunari (+3) <- he would never push his lover aside, not much obligatory social interactions, no expectations of leadership [he may appear immature at times, so it zeroed it self out with him not expecting anybody to be very upfront about their feelings] Shingen (-1) <- he would take the lead and wouldn’t expect complete transparency emotion-wise, but he would most likely do all the other mentioned things at least once

2nd Summary:

Mitsuhide (+12) Mitsunari (+7) Shingen (+6) Hideyoshi (+5) Nobunaga (-2)

Only characters with positive value by their names will be considered in the final stages of the match-up. 

Hideyoshi (+5) <- he has a strong tendency towards being overbearing, ah

Mitsuhide and Shingen suffer a critical blow due to their fatal trait - enigmatic!

Mitsuhide (-1) Shingen (-1)

Mitsunari (+1) <- he would appreciate such passion in regards to learning

Poor Ranmaru, so many people seem to dislike him. Either way, Ranmaru’s not in the poll either way and the rest’s up to match-maker ;)

Final Ranking

Mitsuhide (+11) Mitsunari (+8) Shingen (+5)

Mitsuhide

Confessed first: Neither. It doesn’t count. You had to be tricked into it by Masamune and Nobunaga - there were literal bets being made on how long you would brood after each other without actually making a move.

Makes tea in the morning: Mitsuhide.

Hogs blankets at night: You, although mostly by accident. He just doesn’t seem to hold onto them at all. What sort of fight is it, if the opponent surrendered at the very beginning?

Is the little spoon: Usually: you.

Possible points for conflict: It is a curious thing that both of you tend to ignore your feelings - you, without realising so, and him, fully aware of everything he experiences. As such, it leads to miscommunications sometimes, but you’re working on it.

Free time ideas: Strolling through the forest, resting in the cool archives during a hot summer day (of course, reading is involved), Mitsuhide reading a book aloud to you, attempting to solve some little castle mysteries (who could have taken something, how come lord Nobunaga still succeedes at his konpeito hunts, tircking Hideyoshi into resting - it is a mystery how he still is able to go on, surely).

Favourite date spot: Your own garden, provided that Mitsuhide does pick up your favourite sweets on his way home.

A secret you share: You picked up on certain clues suggesting he may be tired or otherwise in need of comfort. As hard as talking about feelings may be, it takes less courage to find an excuse as to why you need his assistance immediately - the fact that you need it for a nap is another matter completely.

His favourite thing about you: He adores how knowledgeable and passionate you are. Quite honestly, he wishes he could give himself to his interests just as much as you do to yours.

His message to you: “You’re worthy of much more than I could ever provide you with, little mouse, and yet you chose me? Hold your head up high and be proud. I truly wish you could see yourself with my eyes.”

[cecilyneville]

 the spanish princess ep 7, aka “how to lose friends and alienate people, the catherine of aragon story”

(ok so - i didn’t watch ep 6 but seeing that screencap of that bless this mess or whatever it said embroidery in the more household absolutely sent me, so here i am with a glass of rose ready to get MAD)

honestly, the cognitive dissonance required on emma frost’s part to be like “catherine was raised by her mother to be a warrior queen” and then to have catherine only give mary attention as well as education because she’s the only child she’ll ever have is truly astounding

meg just like ah yes...another garbage man for me to love (i’m assuming that’s methven fighting with james v?)

why is james calling methven a sassenach when he is very much scottish?

(i know he’s not methven yet sorry, i’m as bad as ef)

georgie’s acting is a bit hammy sometimes but at least she’s trying, at least she’s actually displaying emotion

i personally think wolsey is super sexy

it’s back! does this little metaphor have a name?

wow...catherine really does hate meg for no reason

lina’s side-eye...it’s COMING

siri, play “we gotta get outta this place” by the angels

“what a strange thing to ask a cardinal in a church” LOVE HIMMM

wolsey pointing out that catherine has no friends lol

surprised that a word as big as “ecumenical” made it into a tsp script

“do you hate my sister now?” catherine can’t even get a single win and i love it

check out the slightly more accurate hood in the background!! more of an early french hood but still, i take what i can get

you know, i thought it was pretty on-the-nose when the tudors had mary say “i will burn as many heretics as i have to”, but this really takes the cake

“why do you cry?” uhhh maybe bc you’re revelling in the defeat of lina’s own people, catherine, you horrible person

the TALENT and CHARISMA and BEAUTY that stephanie levi-john has, manifesting a successful career for her

“to hell with parchment, i will take what i’m owed in gold. think of it as a border raid” THAT’S MY GIRL

“i cannot fall for another” but you WILL

given they’re running out of time i’m assuming meg & “hal” stewart are going to have a happy ending which...ok

shouldn’t more be a knight by now, not just master more? who knows what year we’re in

is...stafford going to get arrested bc they find him in catherine’s chambers?

“you must tell no one” IS CATHERINE GOING TO TRY & FAKE A PREGNANCY??? DELICIOUS

who are those two ladies with catherine? have they just forgotten the boleyn girls exist?

for a show that loves heavy-handed foreshadowing, it is mindboggling that neither anne nor mary boleyn have been anything other than glorified extras. particularly as they had anne attending mary and saying stuff like “hmmm a RICH KING” back in episode 2!!! it’s like they straight up forgot about her

why did they never call stafford “buckingham”? it was his title from a young age & they seem to have no problem referring to thomas boleyn as “wiltshire” when it would make more sense - if you’re catering to an audience with little knowledge of the era - to refer to him by his surname. like, this show doesn’t even operate on its OWN logic

INSANELY HILARIOUS, the mores are literally the flanderses 

tfw you stumble upon your boyfriend’s sex dungeon

i personally would like to see andrew buchan go full zealot

stephanie outshines literally everyone in this show

wolsey is trying to link yorkists with protestants, that’s definitely how it worked

lina eavesdropping...love u queen

catherine just like “if i keep my hand on my stomach people will think i’m still pregnant”, what a genius

A GABLE HOOD IN THE BACKGROUND!!! (and some french hoods with actual veils, including on maggie!)

“to my dear friend lord stafford...get fucked, love henry xoxo”

it is WILD to me that stafford and also norfolk are so enamoured with catherine when she’s done fuck all for them (also...where is norfolk)

you hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave

why are these beheadings so gruesome but also so stupid looking - much like the stillbirth catherine suffered after flodden, they leave nothing to the imagination and that’s...not a good thing

WHY would catherine be talking about a potential annulment when everyone thinks she’s still pregnant?

surely all of these scripts were first drafts, the basic plot holes that could be picked up on a reread

ch’s modus operandi is painful villainous smiles and nothing else

[writeyouin]

Hello! I was reading some of your transformers x reader and i enjoyed them way too much, i wondering if i could please request some poly combaticons x reader fluffiness??

Poly-Combaticons X Reader - Hostage

A/N – Yoga is harder than I thought. Man, I am like the least flexible person ever.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Swindle vented air loudly through his systems, sighing boredly. Just like the other Combaticons, he was tired of being left behind on missions. It was almost like Megatron didn’t trust them, which was crazy, because it was he who had ordered their rescue from imprisonment, right? At least, that’s what he had told them on Cybertron after he had reprogrammed them to only follow his orders; none of the Combaticons would ever know any different.

“Where’s Vortex?” He asked, hoping that the insane bot might be good for a laugh.

“Probably off causing trouble,” Blast Off replied, checking himself out in the shiniest part of the chrome wall.

Onslaught hummed, making some notes after examining a slide under the microscope, “As long as I have some peace to finish my experiments for Lord Megatron, does it really matter where Vortex is?”

“GUYS, GUYS,” Vortex called out excitedly, running in. “YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED!”

Onslaught cursed his luck, knowing he would never finish his project with Vortex yelling like that.

“WHAT IS IT?!” Brawl roared huffily, eager to pick a fight with just about anyone that happened to be nearby, if it would distract him from his boredom.

“ORDERS FROM MEGATRON. GOOD ONES. REALLY, REALLY GOOD ONES. ALMOST AS GOOD AS BEING ATTACKED.”

None of them really understood why Vortex loved surprise attacks so much, but they at least understood his frame of reference for excitement.

“Megatron’s back?” Onslaught asked, thinking of his unfinished project.

“NO, BUT HE SENT LASERBEAK BACK WITH SOME ORDERS.”

“What’ve you got for us?” Swindle asked, already coming up with a scam that would make the others do his work for him if he didn’t like the job.

“There’s a human hostage in the holding cells. Megatron said we must not let the Autobots take it back at any cost.”

“A human?” Blast Off actually managed to look away from his reflection for a while. “That could be interesting, I suppose.”

“UGH!” Brawl exclaimed exasperatedly. “WHAT GOOD IS A HOSTAGE THAT YOU CAN’T FIGHT. I WANT A REALLY GOOD SCRAP.”

“Come on,” Onslaught said, leading the way to the holding cells; at the very least, he might get some interesting research done on human physiology and behaviour. At Onslaught’s word, they all headed down to see the prisoner, hoping to alleviate some boredom, if nothing else.

None of them knew what to expect since you were the first human they had seen outside of TV. As such, once they all got to the door, it was decided they shouldn’t alert you to their presence until they were sure of how best to guard you; that decision greatly annoyed Brawl who never hid from anything.

“Wow…” Blast Off whispered, “(S)he looks so…sad.”

The five bots fell silent, frowning as they each thought about their millions of years imprisoned with no hope of escape; it was torturous. No doubt, you were also suffering with nobody to talk to and no stimulus to keep you entertained. At least when the Combaticons were bored, they had each other to talk to; this just seemed cruel. Even Brawl was uncharacteristically quiet, thinking about the painful years of solitude in which nobody even spared him a thought.

Vortex stayed as quiet as he could for as long as he could, totalling a record time of two minutes and ten seconds of silence. After that, he bounced on into the room, “Hey human, how are you? Are you bored? I bet you’re bored; I would be bored in there.”

Onslaught and Blast Off face-palmed, while Swindle watched snickering, and Brawl rolled his optics at his team-mate’s stupidity.

You stood up upon seeing the Decepticon enter the room. He was one you had never seen before on any of your missions with the Autobots and you wondered what his personality was like compared to the other Decepticons.

“Hello,” You greeted openly.

“Hey,” Vortex beamed, surprised you weren’t like the other humans the Decepticons had discussed in front of the Combaticons; he had only ever heard Starscream saying how they were frightened of everything, including their own shadows.

“Are you new?” You asked, your curiosity outweighing your sense of danger as it always did. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Me, new? That’s crazy,” Vortex guffawed. “I’m super old. You’re the new one.”

You chuckled, “Yes, I guess I am.”

“GUYS, GET IN HERE, IT’S FRIENDLY, AND FUNNY TOO.”

You watched the door as three other bots sheepishly made their way in, the fourth stomped in grumpily, making sure to make a lot of noise.

“Oh, are these your friends?”

It was Onslaught who answered, “We’re his team.”

“Yeah,” Blast Off laughed, “I’m the handsome one.”

You smiled, noticing they weren’t like the other Decepticons; at least these five talked to you. “And do you have a name or am I stuck calling you handsome?”

“I’m Blast Off, our fearless leader here is called Onslaught. This glitch-head is Vortex,” Vortex pointed to himself proudly, despite the insult. “This is-”

“I’m Swindle,” The bot replied, winking at you. “You need something, you come to me first. I can talk my way outta anything and everything.”

“And last but not least is Brawl.”

“AND I’M OUTTA HERE,” Brawl huffed, still wanting something to fight.

“Ah,” You smiled knowingly.

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” Brawl demanded, hitting the bars of your cage.

“Hey, I meant nothing bad by it. I could just tell by your cool attitude that you’re the strong one of the group. Man, I bet you could take anyone in a fight.”

“Heh,” Brawl guffawed bashfully. “If you think I look strong now, you should see my alt-mode.” With that he transformed into a tank, showing off his bulk and strength by blasting a hole in the ceiling.

You couldn’t help but smiling at the display Brawl put on just for you. Soon enough, all the Combaticons were competing for your attention, turning into their various alt-modes and asking whose was best. Even the level-headed Onslaught couldn’t help admiring your tactful answers as you said what you liked best about each member of his unit, including himself.

There was no doubt that the five would have stayed and talked your ears off forever, had you not eventually fallen asleep. Watching you slumber so peacefully, sure they had put the smile on your face, each of the Combaticons felt joy warm their cores. In just one day you had become so precious to them and all because you listened to them more than any other Cybertronian ever had.

“Let us all admit that we are feeling the same thing for this organic,” Onslaught whispered, resting his helm against the bars of your cage.

The other bots murmured in agreement.

“Then let’s bust her out,” Brawl growled. “We have more than enough firepower to do it.”

“Yeah,” Blast Off agreed, “And nobody could look as good doing it as we could.”

Vortex started shaking excitedly, “Oooh, I sense a prison break coming on, just like the human movie, Impossible Mission.”

“It was Mission Impossible, you dolt.”

Onslaught sighed, “You’re forgetting that we’ve got direct orders from Megatron to make sure (s)he doesn’t escape.”

“Do we though?” Swindle asked mischievously. “As far as I’m aware, our orders were to ‘make sure the Autobots don’t take her at any cost.’ I don’t see any Autobots here, do you?”

Onslaught considered that momentarily; Swindle really could find a loophole in anything. “Well…as long as we are all in agreement.”

As if in response, the team started their combined transformation into Bruticus, leaving room for Onslaught to join in. He did so happily, feeling the freedom and power that came with combining.

“Bruticus rescue (Y/N),” The now giant bot said monosyllabically. “(Y/N) belongs to Bruticus now.”

You had long since gotten over the shock of being kidnapped for the second time that day; it helped that your new-found captor was actually the five Combaticons you had met earlier that night. All the same, you weren’t sure what was going to happen next and it seemed that Bruticus didn’t either.

“So,” You wondered how to broach your next question, “Where do we go from here?”

Bruticus shrugged his shoulders, then lowered his servo to let you down onto the beach shore. “Bruticus don’t know. What human want to do?”

“I- Hmm… I’d like to thank you for the heroic rescue.”

Bruticus’ fans started blasting in what you had come to know as a Cybertronian blush.

“And I would like to invite you to come and visit me in my home whenever you want… even though we’re really far away from it right now.”

“Not far for Bruticus. I can take you home right now.”

“Really?” You half laughed. “You would do that for me?”

“Yes, Bruticus like new friend.”

You weren’t sure how to react to that. To be perfectly honest, you were wondering exactly what you had said or done to make the Combaticons like you so quickly. If you could make the other Decepticons like you just as much then maybe you could make life a lot easier for the Autobots in the process. Either way, you were glad you weren’t a hostage anymore, though you still had no idea quite how enamoured the Combaticons had become with you in just one night. Humans had a word for how the Combaticons felt about you; they were smitten.

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[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas: True Might

Also on AO3! 

TL;DR:  Powers don't make the hero - passion does. Luckily for Izuku and Toshinori, this is something the quirkless have in droves.

AKA: All Might is a quirkless vigilante, One for All isn't a quirk that exists and 1A gets a whole 3-week buffer before villain's start kicking their face in as opposed to the 3 days of canon.

Basically: Quirkless!Vigilante!All Might and Quirkless!Successor!(gen ed) UA Student!Midoriya. It’s a riot.

Yagi is stupid strong, his only form in this AU is basically Muscle Form from canon, but he’s a little less ridiculously cut. Not quite chubby, but huggable. This is mostly because he A, isn’t a celebrity that needs to have a marketable image and B, he really likes carbs.

He’s not exactly a vigilante by choice, in his day and age quirkless kids weren’t permitted to apply to UA, either gen ed or heroics. When Nezu got the job, that all changed, but it was a solid decade too late for Yagi.

He’s admittedly a little bitter about it, but he refuses to do anything but his best. He might be a little snippier with Pros than he really needs to be but oh well.

Katsuki and Izuku are utterly enamoured with this crazy vigilante that just doesn’t lose, refuses to back down from a fight even when he’s outmatched, and somehow coming out victorious anyway, rescuing everyone. They have a tense relationship, but often find time to get together and just ramble about how cool All Might is, share theories and dissect his fights. It’s not uncommon for Katsuki to have been hurling abuse at Izuku during class, only to show up at his house after school with a backpack full of snacks and a notebook full of questions.

Izuku knows most of what Katsuki does is to keep his status in the school. If he showed pity to a dumb quirkless runt he’d be painted with the same brush. This doesn’t make what Katsuki has done right! Only Izuku doesn’t blame him because he’s way too forgiving.

Izuku is the smartest person Katsuki knows and vice versa – they are each other’s measuring stick. Katsuki shows Izuku bravery, Izuku shows Katsuki determination.

Episode 1 goes as it does but you see a real flash of regret when Katsuki tells Izuku to jump off a roof because they are kinda-sorta friends. Izuku looks so betrayed. We meet the slime villain like before, All Might saves Izuku and 100% doesn’t expect the kid to fanboy about him and ask for two autographs – one made out to a “Kacchan”.

“Can someone quirkless be a hero?” “The whole world will be against you. Most places won't even give you a shot – no matter how good you are. You’re better off picking something else.”

Izuku is crushed but he does understand. All Might leaves and Izuku trails off kinda hopelessly. He follows the sounds of explosions without meaning to.

It’s Katsuki! He’s dying! Like usual at this point lmao. Izuku rushes in much like canon, All Might shows up, pulls Katsuki free and slams a dumpster on the slime villains head before making a speedy getaway. The police rip into Izuku but Katsuki actually defends him. “You were doing fuck all while I fucking died – don’t knock the only asshole who tried.” Izuku quietly slips him the autograph before running off the scene. Katsuki cries because Izuku got that for him even after he was such a fucking bastard that day? He can’t bring himself to be a dick to Izuku again, even only for show.

All Might finds Izuku and he's like “Sorry I was an ass I was being a dick because I had low self-esteem – I’m quirkless. If you’ll have me I’ll make you into the best hero the world had ever seen

Izuku, obviously, says yes please!

Also, hypermobile Izuku with joint braces as support gear because just let me project please my arms are killing me ( I wrote this a while ago and yes. My arms are still killing me - yes even now). He gets them after All Might sees him miss a dodge because his ankles rolled beneath him. They support his joints beyond the normal range of strength, letting him do some crazy pivots and handsprings, making it easy to support all his weight on a single-arm with very little strain. They can also lock in place, lessening muscle fatigue if he needs to hold onto something for ages and preventing injury if he’s pushing against something. Produced by David and Melissa Shield and imported through Nighteye Heroics.

Is support gear illegal for civilians to own? Yes! But medical equipment isn’t so if you can just convince people its medical not support you can get away with a lot.

Yagi has no weapons himself, other than the random shit he picks up and swings at people, and has little support gear other than a communicator, panic button, and a whole lot of zip-ties.

Izuku should probably have weapons but I’m struggling to think of anything other than war fans because how cool would that look? Because Shonen they would also have the ability to create powerful downdrafts that would give a boost to a jump or dodge.

Probably doesn’t get them until later and needs to train with them.

In this AU, One for All isn’t a quirk. Rather, it’s a role, passed from quirkless person to quirkless person, the only people who can’t be hard countered by All for One. They tend to be vigilantes, crime lords or hero managers, doing their part to foil as much of All for One’s plans as they can, through whatever means necessary.

It’s a role with a pretty high fatality rate.

No one knows All Might is quirkless other than those close to him, they instead think he has a strength quirk. He’s the most prolific vigilante in Japan and is almost as much of a household name as canon All Might. More divisive though, with most people decrying his vigilante status when he could ‘easily make a respectable hero’. He’s also pretty brutal with his takedowns of some villains, leading a lot of people to call him an unregulated brute. Still more call him a villain which, legally he would be - were he using a quirk.

Nighteye is his contact in the heroics industry, gives him loads of inside info that’s typically not something he should be passing on. He’s still close with David Shield. Nighteye imports any costume parts he needs from David and leaves them at various pickup points for Yagi.

He went to college with David in America after Nana died; America having a quirk blind admission process helped - but he’d have gotten shit talked a lot if people didn’t just assume he had a strength quirk. Dude was and is crazy big.

David was one of the only people that knew he was quirkless

OH FOR FUN; Nighteye was also going to this American college and that’s where he met All Might. The three of them became the world’s strangest group of friends and may have lowkey done some slightly illegal vigilante work around the campus and surrounding town. They had a reputation for getting no sleep ever and being the most mismatched set of people

Secretly Smart Jock, Business Man with a Touch of E-boy, Science Hipster. They all tumbled into class together with varying levels of alive-ness. Nighteye and David were very much not morning people.

UA! It’s a ride. Izuku fails the practical but he’s not shocked – he was prepared for this.

He actually got like 30 hero points? But they refused to admit him on hero points alone due to his ‘deficiencies’. They don’t exactly tell Izuku this but Aizawa was there and he was furious.

Gets into 1C with Shinsou, Shinsou fuckin hates him on sight for reasons best known to him (It’s bc he was so god damned cheerful he just – assumed Izuku had a quirk. I love Shinsou but he’s more than a little judgemental). Izuku is like smiling through the pain because he just wanted to make a friend his age – Katsuki barely counts.

He sits with him at lunch and makes friends-ish with the hero kids who dragged Katsuki along, meets Ochaco again. She’s upset he didn’t get in – especially after he tells her he apparently got 30 points. The whole table gets mad on his behalf and hes embarrassed and happy.

Like day 2 he’s leaving gym and someone is like “Oh LMAO it’s Deku – he was in the year below me at Aldera. Only fuckin quirkless kid in the whole school; can’t believe he got into UA.” He turns to Izuku. “Who’s dick did you suck to get in you - ?” And Shinsou just decks him. He grabs Izuku – who is super confused fyi – and s p r i n t s. They have to stop after a while because hes having a panic attack and Shinsou doesn’t know what the fuck to do and he’s mad and upset and the sunshine boy is sobbing –

Aizawa shows up, having seen the (end of the) altercation and is ready to expel some gen ed kids he can’t legally expel – until he sees the two kids from the entrance exam he was interested in – including the quirkless kid who should have gotten in. Well he’s much more willing to hear them out.

100% requests expulsion on those 2 2E kids because that’s Discrimination and they should know better as second years. Nezu grants it because those 2 were di ck s

No USJ because no All Might – stuff like that will come,,, later : )

Sports Fest! Izuku and Shinsou kick ass, Aizawa is Watching. All Might may have gotten in as a crowd member with Nighteye and a visiting David and Melissa and they are cheering on their sun son. Also, Nighteye is going to go cheer on Mirio so he just got a pass to attend all 3 days of the sports festival. He’s just buying snacks on the second day because he’s never talked to one of the second years in his life.

Shinsou and Izuku make it to the tournament. Izuku has been training pretty seriously with All Might for a while now and hes a very good fighty boy. Makes it to the 3rd round of the tournament where he loses to Iida. Shinsou makes it second where he loses to Katsuki. Izuku is like “Iida might you be Ingenium’s brother or something?” “Yes, I am!” “OH MY GOD I LOVE INGENIUM ISN’T HE THE COOLEST” “YES MY BROTHER IS AMAZING” Shinsou is just watching while faintly amused.

[pikapeppa]

Felassan/f!Lavellan: Imshael

Chapter 14 of The Love That Grows From Violence (Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is posted!

In which a lot of lore is discussed, including the story from Tevinter Nights that’s narrated by a character named Hollix. A note before we start: Hollix is a master of disguises whose gender identity is non-binary or fluid, but in this fic, I have Dorian calling Hollix ‘she/her’ because that’s what Dorian calls Hollix in the Tevinter Nights story — he gets the impression that Hollix is a ‘she/her’ based on Hollix’s disguises, an impression that Hollix doesn’t correct because they easily and cheerfully slip into either gender identity/role as part of their position as a Lord of Fortune.

~6000 words; read here on AO3 instead.

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

“Listen closely now,” Dorian said jauntily. “My story begins with a series of unsolved and rather gruesome murders that had been going on in Minrathous for some time. Rumours had started to circulate that the perpetrator was a creature that came to be called the Cekorax.”

“Cekorax?” Varric asked. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a butchering of the old Tevene word for ‘headsman’,” Dorian said. “The creature earned this charming name because its victims were all found without their heads.”

Tamaris grimaced, and Felassan laughed. “This story is exciting already.”

“Not quite so exciting for those who lost their heads, but I digress,” Dorian said delicately. “No one was doing anything about it, unfortunately, especially since the beast hadn’t attacked any of the altus class yet. So I put out a bounty for the perpetrator’s head, and the person who came to my aid was a wily little thing whom I’ll affectionately call Hollix.”

Tamaris raised an eyebrow. “That you’ll call Hollix? What was their actual name?”

“I haven’t a clue,” he said cheerfully. “I called her Hollix on a whim. She decided to keep the name while she was in Minrathous, and who am I to argue with the adoption of a silly nickname?”

“Fair enough,” Varric said.

“Of course you’d agree,” Dorian said drolly. “In any case, Hollix did some unsavoury investigating for me — for a fair price, of course — and discovered that the creature doing all the killing was…” He sighed. “Frankly, it was a creature of unearthly and uncanny horror. And you know I don’t say this lightly, considering all that we’ve seen together.”

“No kidding,” Tamaris said flatly.

Felassan sat forward and rested his elbows on the table. “What did it look like? This uncanny creature of horror?”

“I can only tell you so much firsthand, as I was high above the action when the creature presented itself,” Dorian said. “But Hollix described it more fully. It was…” He hesitated for a moment before going on. “It was an enormous fleshy mass as large as a house that was able to peel parts of itself away to produce… tentacles. Unbelievably long tentacles bearing human eyes that it had stolen from its victims’ heads.”

Tamaris exchanged a horrified look with Varric. “So it just took the victims’ eyes?” she asked Dorian. 

“Unfortunately, no,” Dorian said. He sounded very serious now. “In the deepest part of this fleshy mass, it was harbouring the heads of all of its victims. Over two dozen heads, Hollix said — all perfectly preserved as though they were still alive. And the monster was… animating the heads. Speaking through their mouths.”

A cold ripple of revulsion ran down the back of Tamaris’s neck. “Oh fuck,” she breathed.

“Shit,” Varric muttered.

Felassan narrowed his eyes. “It was speaking through the heads? Using their mouths to express its own thoughts?”

“Apparently,” Dorian said. “Hollix said it was trying to lure her into joining it. To ‘keep her safe’, it said.”

Felassan leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the table. “So it seemed to have motivations of its own. That’s fascinating.”

Tamaris tilted her head. “Do you know something about this?” 

He grinned. “Are you asking if I’m responsible? That hurts. I’m clever, but I’m hardly diabolical.”

She tsked. “Of course I don’t think you’re responsible. But is it an ancient monster or something like that?”

His smile faded slightly. “I… honestly can’t say.” To Dorian he said, “How did you defeat this creature in the end?”

“An ingenious plan that I regret to admit was not mine,” Dorian said. “The creature had entwined itself in one of the city’s finest public gardens, which happens to be just below my apartment. Hollix cleared the gardens and exploded the fountain with gaatlok so the creature was drenched, and Maevaris and I electrocuted it from the upper balcony of my apartment.”

Tamaris raised her eyebrows. “So wait, you weren’t even in the garden during all this? I thought you said you were involved in the disgustingness.”

“I was involved,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I was in it. Can you imagine?”

Tamaris snorted in amusement. “You’re such a spoiled noble.”

“I do miss your loving insults,” he said. “In actual fact, though, Mae and I had to keep distant so the monster wouldn’t suspect anyone else but Hollix was involved. I do feel sorry for Hollix though, poor thing. The creature popped like an enormous filthy balloon when we zapped it, and she got rather, er, moist in the process. When all was said and done, only the creature’s skin was left behind.”

Varric grimaced. “Like a sausage casing?”

“Ugh,” Dorian said. “That’s what Hollix said. Believe me, you wouldn’t be thinking about food if you’d seen what I had.”

Tamaris looked at Felassan. “So? Does it sound familiar to you?”

He twisted his lips. “Yes and no, actually. It almost sounds like one of Ghilan’nain’s delights, but not completely.”

Tamaris blinked in surprise. What did Ghilan’nain have to do with a horrific murderous monster in Minrathous?

“Ghilan’nain?” Dorian said. “Isn’t that one of the Dalish gods? Er, so to speak.”

“Yes indeed,” Felassan said. He raised his eyebrows at Tamaris. “Would you care to start us off?”

She groaned. “Do I have to?”

He chuckled. “No, you don’t. But it would be informative for everyone.”

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically. Then she addressed Varric and Dorian’s crystal. “The Dalish say that Ghilan’nain was the mother of halla, and the goddess of navigation and wayfaring. She was actually a mortal who was raised to the status of a goddess thanks to Andruil, who’s the goddess of hunting.” Then she frowned at Felassan. “But in the Temple of Mythal, we found an old inscription that Solas translated. It said that Ghilan’nain created all kinds of creatures, but the creatures ran rampant through the elves’ lands until the Evanuris offered her godhood in exchange for destroying them.” 

Felassan grinned. “Fen’Harel translated that for you?”

“Yes, he did.”

Felassan chuckled. “I can just imagine him screaming on the inside while he read that to you.”

She offered him a slightly bitter smirk, and he folded his arms. “Well, that inscription had the right of it. Like all the Evanuris, Ghilan’nain was a powerful mage, and her favourite hobby was creating new forms of life.” He held up a finger. “Wait, I should be specific: she created new forms of life from ones that already existed, blending and forming them into new creatures that were increasingly spectacular and powerful.”

Tamaris harrumphed. “Until the Evanuris got sick of her shit, it seems.”

Felassan smiled at her. “Blunt as always, avise, but yes. This was before my time, but my understanding is that Andruil became enamoured with Ghilan’nain, who created increasingly insane creatures for Andruil to hunt. Andruil praised her efforts, which spurred Ghilan’nain’s experiments on.” He smirked. “They encouraged each other’s insanity, just as any good couple should.”

Dorian chuckled, and Varric ruefully shook his head. “Very romantic, Jester.”

“I am, aren’t I?” he said. “In any case, Andruil and Ghilan’nain’s… activities eventually drew concern from the other Evanuris, who offered to raise Ghilan’nain to the status of a goddess if she destroyed her more disturbing creatures. By that time, she had already gained a measure of infamy among the people, so it took little propaganda for them to believe she was a goddess like the others.”

“Let me guess,” Dorian said. “Her experimenting didn’t stop just because she became a goddess.”

Felassan widened his eyes in mocking surprise. “How did you know?”

Tamaris folded her arms. “But you don’t really think that this Cekorax could actually be one of Ghilan’nain’s creatures. That would mean it was thousands of years old.”

Varric shrugged. “It’s not impossible, Cuddles. Think about some of the old shit we’ve encountered. Corypheus, the Titan…”

“A certain person in this room,” Felassan said blandly.

Tamaris snorted a laugh, and he winked at her. Then Dorian spoke through the crystal. “Whether this creature is new or old, what was it doing roaming around beneath Minrathous?”

“That is an excellent question,” Felassan said thoughtfully.

“Can you answer it?” Tamaris asked.

He shrugged. “I can try.” To Tamaris and Varric he said, “Recall that I told you about Mythal’s Sentinels, and how the other Evanuris sought warriors who were equally dedicated and fierce?”

“Yeah,” Varric said.

Felassan nodded. “Ghilan’nain’s efforts involved attempts to make hybrid… species that would be good fighters and soldiers. And her experiments didn’t just use non-sentient animals anymore.”

A cold stone of horror dropped into Tamaris’s gut. “She started experimenting on slaves?”

“Yes,” Felassan said. His manner was completely serious now, without a hint of levity. “From what we gathered at the time, she wanted her… creations to have some level of sentience, but not so much that they would try to rebel. Which is why I wonder if this Cekorax wasn’t just a simple monster, but a monster possessed by a spirit, since it sounds like it had more… motivation than Ghilan’nain’s surviving creatures had.”

Varric sighed and rubbed his chin. “A possessed monster? As if a regular monster wasn’t bad enough.”

Felassan didn’t reply, and Tamaris looked at him; he had an oddly absent-looking half-smile on his face.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

He met her eye, then let out a little laugh and shook his head. “Oh, nothing. Just an idle thought, really.”

She narrowed her eyes, but Dorian spoke before she could press Felassan further. “This still doesn't explain why one of Ghilan’nain’s creatures might be roaming around beneath Minrathous now.”

Felassan sobered once more. “Ghilan’nain had multiple hidden… laboratories, for lack of a better word, where she was creating her so-called soldiers. I don’t know where they were located as her activities weren’t my particular area of focus, but if one of Ghilan’nain’s laboratories was recently… activated, or disturbed, then it’s possible that this Cekorax broke free.”

Dorian sighed. “The murders started shortly after some surviving Venatori opened an underground cavern of some kind.” 

Felassan grimaced. “That could explain it. You should probably look into where that cavern was, in case you start getting more lovely visitors from the deepest pits of Ghilan’nain’s twisted imagination.”

Dorian tsked. “Fasta vass. Of course. We’ll look into that.”

“Felassan,” Tamaris said. 

“Yes, avise?” he said pleasantly.

She frowned slightly. “You mentioned that you thought the Cekorax was possessed by a powerful spirit.”

“I did, yes.”

“Do you know the spirit that might have been possessing it?”

A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Why do you say that?”

“Why are you dodging?” she said quietly. 

His smile faded. “Force of habit,” he said ruefully. “I apologize. I did wonder if the spirit might be one that I was acquainted with in the past.” He smirked and rubbed his chin. “Possessing a many-headed and many-eyed monster that can shape itself at will would be in keeping with this particular spirit.”

“What spirit?” Tamaris asked.

“It called itself the Formless One,” he said. “As you can probably guess, it didn’t have any particular shape that it preferred, nor a name to go by.”

“A name?” Dorian said in surprise. “Spirits have names?”

“If they want one, certainly,” Felassan said. “Though many of them are boring and keep the name of the virtues they embody.” His tone was bland once more, and Tamaris shot him a chiding smirk; he was clearly taking a jab at Solas.

Dorian’s voice was keen with curiosity through the sending crystal. “What are some of the spirit names you’ve known?” 

Felassan casually laced his fingers behind his head. “There was an amusing group of spirits who were banished from Elvhenan long before I was born. Or were supposed to have been, at least,” he added with a smirk. “The Formless One was one of them, though it obviously didn’t have a name. Gaxkang was one, and Imshael was another—” 

Tamaris straightened in surprise, and Varric interrupted. “Imshael?” he said.

Felassan’s eyes widened, and he smiled. “Don’t tell me you met him.”

Varric and Tamaris stared incredulously at him, and Dorian answered. “We didn’t just meet him. We killed him.”

Felassan’s face slackened with surprise. Then he laughed. “You’re kidding. Well, now you have to tell me how that happened.”

They told Felassan how they’d met Ser Michel de Chevin during their travels to Emprise du Lion, and how Michel had asked for their help defeating Imshael at Suledin Keep. When they described how Imshael had been directing and guiding the growth of red lyrium in the Red Templars and peasants in the quarry, Felassan laughed and tugged his ear.

“Well, I suppose I did tell him to have fun,” he said dryly. “Not the sort of fun I would have chosen, but…”

Tamaris recoiled slightly at his flippant reaction. “Were you friends with Imshael?” she asked.

“More like long-time acquaintances who made deals sometimes,” he said. “He was supposed to have been banished from our lands along with the others I mentioned, but he, er, stuck around.”

His tone was curled with mischief. She eyed him shrewdly. “Did Solas know you made deals with a spirit who was supposed to be banished?”

“He knew, but... unofficially,” Felassan said.

“Why unofficially?”

“Because Mythal didn’t know,” Felassan said slyly. “She was one of the Evanuris who banished him, you see.”

He was grinning now. Tamaris frowned more deeply. “How is this funny?”

“It’s not, actually,” he said. “Not at all. Can I ask if Fen’Harel was present when you met Imshael?”

Varric nodded. “Yeah, Chuckles was there.”

“And he didn’t say anything?” Felassan said. “Any… recognition or anything?”

“Not a fucking word,” Tamaris said bitterly.

Felassan let out a snort of laughter. “I bet he was fuming on the inside. If I wasn’t already out of the picture, he probably would have skinned me.” He snorted again and rubbed his mouth, then suddenly burst into laughter.

Tamaris’s heart clenched; the quality of his laughter was wild and uncontrolled. She took his hand and squeezed it. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Just breathe.”

Another blast of laughter left his lungs. Tamaris stroked his arm with her metal fingers. “Look at me, brat,” she said softly. 

He wheezed as he met her eye, and Tamaris nodded encouragingly. A few breaths later, he was calm again.

She squeezed his hand before releasing it. “Why did you say Solas would skin you?” she asked.

“Because it’s my fault Imshael was free to run a red lyrium farm in Emprise du Lion,” Felassan said. “And whatever shortcomings the Dread Wolf has, he does not like red lyrium.”

“No one in their right mind does,” Varric said flatly.

Tamaris frowned. “What do you mean, it was your fault Imshael was free?”

He looked at her, and her belly jolted; for a split second, an odd flash of wistfulness had crossed his face before his usual pleasant half-smile returned. “Imshael had been summoned and bound by a Dalish clan,” he said. “My… lack of involvement, shall we say, led to him being set free.”

Her gut twisted with apprehension. A Dalish clan?

Dorian’s words echoed her thoughts. “You were with a Dalish clan?” he asked.

“For a very brief time, when I was travelling with Briala and the others,” Felassan said. His tone was light and pleasant, but he was still gazing steadily at Tamaris, and there was something about the neutrality of his expression that she didn’t like. 

Then Dorian spoke in a peevish tone. “I beg your pardon, but what in Andraste’s sacred underthings are you talking about? I’m feeling terribly left out.”

Felassan finally looked away from her to face the crystal. “I travelled for a time with Celene, Briala, and the illustrious Michel prior to the Orlesian civil war breaking out in earnest,” he said. “At one point during our travels, we were hosted by a Dalish clan.”

“Hosted?” Dorian said. “The Dalish hosted Celene and Michel?”

Varric spoke up. “I didn’t think Dalish hospitality extended to humans. No offense, Cuddles.”

She didn’t reply; she was too focused on Felassan, who was now wearing a little smile that somehow made his face look empty.

Felassan shrugged. “Well, they tied Michel up and beat him, and they kept Celene under guard. Does that count as hospitality?” 

Tamaris’s gut twisted. Something awful had just occurred to her. “Felassan, what happened to the Dalish clan after Imshael was freed?” she said quietly. 

His eyes returned to her face. “Imshael killed them all.”

A jolt of shock stabbed her in the gut. She stared at him for a second before finding her tongue. “Imshael killed them?” she said weakly. “The… the whole clan?”

“All but one, yes,” Felassan said. He was still wearing that empty little smile, and he sounded so casual, and it… it didn’t add up. 

“Wait,” she said. “He…” She trailed off; her heart was thrumming now, and it was making it hard for her to breathe. She forced herself to inhale. “Imshael went after the clan because you let him go free?”

“Yes,” Felassan said.

She dragged in another breath. “Did you know that Imshael would attack the clan?” she demanded.

“Yes,” he said. 

He wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked so serious now — no, not just serious. He looked…

Her heart twisted. He looked wolfish, somehow. Dangerous. This wasn’t the Felassan she knew. 

She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “So you… you purposely let a demon go free, knowing it would kill an entire Dalish clan.”

“Yes, Tamaris,” he said. “I did.”

She stared at him in shock. His face was so forbidding and his voice was uncharacteristically hard, and … and he’d purposely given a demon free reign to kill a Dalish clan. 

She hadn’t known. She hadn’t known about this. He hadn’t told her about this, for obvious reasons — he’d gotten a Dalish clan killed, for fuck’s sake, so of course he hadn’t told her. But if he hadn’t told her this, what else was he hiding from her? What other ugly secrets was he keeping? 

Nauseous with horror, she gazed into his violet eyes — his beautiful violet eyes that were usually full of warmth and humour, and that she’d been growing to trust more and more with every passing day. 

Beautiful violet eyes that were probably hiding all kinds of deeds that Tamaris knew nothing about. 

She rose from her chair, and his hard expression cracked. “Tamaris,” he said.

She shook her head and took a step back from the table. Felassan stood up and reached for her hand. “Tamaris, don’t—”

She whipped her hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled. She turned on her heel and ran up the stairs.

She went straight to her room and shoved open the window, then climbed up to the roof and started pacing. Her heart was pounding in her chest and behind her eyes, and her fingers shook as she dragged them through her hair.

Felassan had gotten a Dalish clan killed. He had purposely let a demon run rampant and kill an entire clan, and he hadn’t told her. They’d been living here for weeks and he hadn’t… she had no idea.

She was so stupid. She was so fucking stupid to have thought she could trust him. He was thousands of years old and she’d only known him for three weeks, and — she knew basically nothing about him. How could she have thought she could trust him at all? 

It’s Solas all over again, she thought. Once again, she’d been lulled into a false sense of safety with a compelling older man, and once again, he’d betrayed her trust. 

Her ribs felt like they were swelling with misery. She sat down abruptly and leaned back against the chimney, and for some uncounted time she just sat there ruminating on her own idiocy. 

Eventually, she heard the distinctive soft shuffle of bare feet joining her on the roof. She clenched her jaw and looked away, but Felassan sat beside her anyway.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

His voice was back to its usual warmth, but this only made her feel worse. She shot him a venomous look. “Don’t act like you know everything about me. You’ve only known me for a couple of weeks.”

He elegantly lifted an eyebrow. “Can I speak without you biting my head off?”

“Why should I let you?” she snapped. “So you can talk circles around me?”

His eyes narrowed. “I have never done that to you and you know it.”

A pang of remorse penetrated her anger, and it was enough to make her relent. She shrugged and looked away from him. “Fine. Talk.”

“As I said, I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re thinking that I’ve withheld this terrible tale from you, and that if I was hiding this, there must be an entire thaig’s worth of villainous secrets that I’m keeping from you. I am extremely old, after all. There must be hundreds of skeletons in my proverbial closet that you don’t know about, so how can you possibly trust me?”

His tone was annoyingly playful, but what really rankled her that he was right. “Look at you, using your spy skills to figure me out,” she said snidely. 

“I am only using the information that you told me yourself,” he said. “I know you’re on alert for reasons to cast me aside. I am not going to give you any.”

A sudden throb of pain in her chest took her by surprise. She swallowed hard and lifted her burning eyes to the sky as Felassan continued to speak. “I was not purposely hiding this from you. If the topic had come up before, I would have told you.” He lowered his voice. “And I think you know that.”

Fuck, her lips were trembling. She looked away from him and didn’t speak, and Felassan was silent as well. 

When Tamaris was able to control her face once more, she shot him a hard look. “Tell me why you let that clan get killed.”

His shoulders loosened slightly. “The practical reason is that Imshael had something I needed: a keystone to unlock the eluvians. Setting him free gave us access to the keystone, which ultimately ended up in Briala’s possession.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she said coldly.

“I do know what you mean,” he said calmly. “The real truth is this: I could have gotten that keystone in other ways. I knew Imshael, and I knew how his mind worked. But I wanted that clan to suffer.”

“Why?” she demanded. “What the fuck did they ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” he said. “They did nothing to me, and there was nothing they could have done to harm me.” He paused and clenched his jaw, and her gut twisted; his expression was hardening again in a way that she didn’t like. 

“It was the way they treated Briala,” he said. “Briala had been supplying information to that clan for years through me. She’d pinned her hopes and dreams on them, and do you know what they said to her when they finally met her?”

“What?” Tamaris said faintly.

“They called her a flat-ear and said that she was not their people,” Felassan said.

For a moment, Tamaris stopped breathing. That was what Abelas had said to her at the Temple of Mythal, and she still remembered the way his disdain seemed to stab her straight in the heart.

Felassan went on. “Their Keeper, Thelhen…” He curled his lip in disgust. “It wasn’t that he was blind to the plight of the alienages. He knew what they suffered, and he didn’t care. He was no better than the human nobles that beat and killed city elves for looking at them the wrong way. He knew the problems that city elves faced, and he chose to do nothing, claiming that they were not his people.”

His voice was growing angrier by the second, and Tamaris held up a hand in surrender. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay, I… I hear what you’re saying.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, then leaned his head back against the chimney, and for a moment they were both silent. 

For once, Tamaris broke the silence. “Was that the only clan you ever had dealings with?” 

“No,” he said. “But I had dealings with Clan Virnehn for as many years as I have known Briala. No matter how many times I told them that a city elf was the one to thank for their knowledge of Orlais and how to avoid the shemlen troubles that plagued the country, they still refused to accept her as their own.”

“I hear you,” she said gently. “Honestly, I do. And that’s… it’s fucking awful, and I’m sorry Briala had such a shitty experience with the first Dalish clan she finally had a chance to meet. But do you really think that’s enough reason to let the entire clan get killed?”

He exhaled heavily. “Tamaris…”

She pushed on ruthlessly. “What about the kids in that clan? There had to be kids. Did they deserve to die because their Keeper was a piece of shit?”

“You don’t understand,” he burst out.

“What don’t I understand?” she asked. 

“The…” He dragged his hand over his hair and glared at her. “The frustration of living through the same short-sighted stupidity from thousands of years ago. The fact that our people are still so divisive and blind. You can’t understand how frustrating it is to wake up thousands of years later to realize that the worst attitudes of my time were one of the things that survived.”

“You can’t judge all of the Dalish based on that one clan’s attitudes,” she said firmly. “That’s you and Solas’s biggest problem. You’re judging all of us based on just a few.”

He let out a rather tired-sounding laugh. “This kind of sparkling optimism is a strange look on you.” 

She couldn’t tell if he was complimenting her or insulting her, but it didn’t matter right now. She shifted a little closer to him. “My clan isn’t like that, Felassan.”

“You’ve said that before,” he said. “You told me you take in city elves who run away from the alienages.”

“Yes, we do,” she said.

“And the elves who can’t run away?” he said. “Those who are stuck in the alienages with no means of escape? You told me you knew of the massacre of Halamshiral’s alienage. What did you do about it?”

His tone was calm but piercing somehow, like he was trying to dig beneath her skin with his pointed words, and Tamaris forced herself to reply just as calmly. “Me personally?” she said. “Nothing. By the time I heard about it, it had happened six months before and I was travelling to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to spy on the Conclave.”

“And once you became the Inquisitor?” he said. “Once you had power? What did you do then to help your brothers and sisters in the alienages?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I allowed the Empress of Orlais to be murdered in order to make a city elf the real power behind the throne,” she said quietly. “Or have you forgotten that already?”

His eyebrows rose. After a brief pause, he smiled and bowed his head to her. “Fair enough, avise.”

She relaxed slightly. “I can’t speak to that clan you ran into,” she said. “And… fine, all right, I’ve known some people from other clans who… who feel like we don’t owe anything to the city elves.” She scowled at him. “But Clan Lavellan is not like that, okay? I’m not bullshitting you. We don’t look down on city elves that way. My clan purposely went into Wycome to protect the city elves, for fuck’s sake.”

He looked at her in surprise. “They did?”

“Yes,” she said. “This was a couple years ago. The Duke of Wycome was involved with some Venatori, and they were trying to frame the elves for red lyrium getting into the water supply. The humans tried to burn the alienage down, and my clan interfered to help the city elves fight back. After the Duke was killed, my clan stayed in Wycome to support the city elves, and my Keeper and a city elf got sworn in on the city council along with some human merchants to run Wycome. A third of the clan is still there.”

He nodded slowly. “And the rest?”

“They didn’t want to stay in the city,” she said. “Most of us prefer the woods. But a number of city elves wanted to leave the city with them, and guess what? My clan adopted them.”

He gazed at her appraisingly and didn’t speak, and she gave him a pointed look. “What, nothing to say? That’s new for you.”

“It is, yes,” he said. “It’s an interesting change. It’s not often I’m struck speechless.”

“You do talk a hell of a lot,” she said.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he retorted.

She scoffed, then realized she wasn’t feeling angry anymore. And then she felt weird about the fact that she wasn’t angry.

He tilted his head. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t… really know,” she said slowly. She was feeling oddly at a loss, and she couldn’t say why.

He gave her a slow smile. “You’re not used to winning arguments about the virtues of the Dalish, are you?”

She lifted her chin. “So you admit that I’ve won.”

He chuckled and flicked her knee. “Yes, avise, you’ve won. You can gloat if you like.”

She didn’t laugh. Instead, she studied him thoughtfully. “You really care, don’t you? About the elves of this time. The city elves especially.”

“Why wouldn’t I care about them?” he said.

She didn’t reply right away, but instead continued to study him. The more she thought about it, the more she understood where his attitude about present-day elves came from. Felassan might wear vallaslin and know things about the elvhen gods, but his origins as Andruil’s slave gave him far more in common with city elves than the Dalish. 

A little pang squeezed her heart. That was why he cared about the city elves and their suffering. He’d essentially been one of them, back in the times of ancient Elvhenan.

He lifted one eyebrow quizzically, so Tamaris replied. “Solas didn’t care about the city elves,” she said. “Not like you do.”

Felassan sighed. “I suspect the issue is more that he couldn’t care. He couldn’t afford to. With all that guilt hanging over his head? He couldn’t afford to carry any more by caring about anyone else that he couldn’t save. It would crush him.” He suddenly grinned at her. “I imagine he must have been furious with himself when he realized he was in love with you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You think that makes it okay that he… how he treated me?”

“No,” Felassan said. “Not by any means. A stronger man would have distanced himself from you.”

She huffed, then shrugged. “He tried to. Sort of.”

Felassan shot her a half-smile. “Meaning what exactly?”

“He warned me more than once that getting involved with him was a bad idea,” she admitted. “I guess I… I should have listened.” She scowled. “But he was saying one thing and acting a different way… fucking Solas.”

Felassan smiled to himself, and Tamaris shot him an exasperated look. “What’s so funny now?”

His smile widened. “If I tell you, you’ll say I’m full of shit.”

“Well, now you have to tell me,” she said.

He huffed a little laugh and shook his head, then looked her in the eye. “Fine. I say a stronger man would have distanced himself from you. But it would require the strength of Titans to resist your brassy charms.”

She stared at him. Then she started laughing. “You are completely full of shit.”

He placed one hand on his chest and bowed his head politely. “Acknowledged and accepted.”

She smiled at him, then chuckled and shook her head before taking a joint out of her breast pocket. She lit the joint and took a drag, then offered it to Felassan.

He accepted it with a nod and lifted it to his lips, and as she often did, Tamaris appreciatively watched his lips as he drew from the joint and released the smoke into the air. 

He took another drag and blew a perfect series of smoke rings before offering back the joint, and she carefully took it from his fingers. “You know,” she said, “for someone that he tried to kill, you sure spend a lot of time trying to make me forgive him.”

“That’s not my intention,” Felassan said. “I told you before: I’m not defending him, only explaining him. Know your enemy, blah blah and so on.” He shrugged casually. “Besides, there is only so far that sheer anger can take you. An adversary as unexpected and subtle as Fen’Harel can be requires an approach that’s equally unexpected and subtle.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What approach is that?”

He gave her a fond look that made her heart flip. “This is one thing I won’t tell you,” he said. “Think about it, avise. You’ll figure it out on your own.”

She harrumphed, but with no real ire. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” She took a drag from the joint.

He gently took the joint from her fingers. “I will say this: of everyone who is working against him, you stand in a unique position. You are someone who knows Fen’Harel, loved him, and still wants to defy him. You may be the single most dangerous person to him in all of Thedas.”

She shot him a sharp look. “Is that really what you think?”

“Of course,” he said. “I always tell the truth. To you, at least,” he added with a smirk.

“Then you’re just as dangerous,” she said firmly. “You know him and loved him, and you’re defying him too. You’re just as dangerous as me.”

He raised his eyebrows, then brought the joint to his lips. “How about that? What a team we make. The woman who dances with fire and the slow arrow.”

Her heart did a little squeeze. He’d called himself a slow arrow, not a broken one. 

She smiled at him, and he smiled back at her. Then she reached up and plucked the joint from his lips. “I still think you’re a fucking asshole for letting a demon loose to kill that clan.”

“I know you do,” he said. “And I’m not asking your forgiveness. But I will ask you to recognize that I did not lie about this to you.”

She eyed him appraisingly for a moment, then nodded. “I know. And… I do appreciate that.”

They smoked together quietly for a moment, and the silence between them stretched like warm taffy. From the corner of her eye, she watched as the joint met his lips and moved away to let the smoke bleed from his perfectly sculpted mouth.

She had no reason to trust Felassan. There were thousands of years’ worth of heinous things he could have done and hadn’t told her about. But he had been honest with her about his reasons for doing this one heinous thing. He hadn’t tried to sugarcoat anything, and he hadn’t tried to prevaricate. He’d even followed her to the roof in order to tell her the truth, knowing full well that she wouldn’t like it. 

He offered her the joint once more, and she took it. But instead of bringing it to her lips, she leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder. 

He shifted slightly so her head was tucked more snugly against his neck. When he turned his head to speak to her, his words wafted over her forehead in a soft murmur. “You walked away from me.” 

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “It gave me an excuse to watch you walking away.”

She snorted a laugh. “You’re such a fucking rogue.”

He chuckled and took the joint from her fingers, and for a time they simply sat pressed together on the roof with her head tucked against his neck. The longer she sat there savouring the steady warmth of Felassan’s neck against her temple, the more she realized how strange it was to feel this relaxed and at ease after a fight. How strange it was to feel so… resolved.

“Any particular thoughts on your mind?” he said.

His voice was low and warm, and it was just as comforting as the warmth of his neck. She shrugged and nibbled the inside of her cheek as she considered her reply. She was having plenty of thoughts, thoughts about Felassan’s mischievous smirk and his righteous anger and how patient he was with her, even though she’d walked away. 

She was having thoughts, all right. But nothing that she was ready to say out loud just yet. 

“Not really,” she said. “I’m just… content.”

“Ah, contentment: my favourite,” he said. “It really is an underrated feeling, you know.”

“You said that before,” she said drolly. But in the privacy of her heart, she knew what she was really feeling.

Athdhea’lath, she thought: the precursor to love. A feeling which Felassan had openly admitted to having, and which he was so carefully fostering in the closely guarded garden of Tamaris’s heart.

A little jolt of nerves plucked at her gut, but she took it in stride. She drew from the joint once more, then exhaled and closed her eyes. She breathed in the scents of herbal smoke and Felassan’s skin, and she enjoyed the feeling of being… content.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Spera - Elias x Reader (Trespass)

Direct Follow Up To: Veritas GIF Credit: X

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ 

Author’s Note: *Story Time* Ha-! I went on holiday in September and there were a bunch of DVDs at the holiday home and no word of a lie, this was one of them and my parents wanted to see it. So, I kinda wanted to continue things from ‘Veritas’... and watching it again got me inspired (and I got to notice a bunch more stuff!) 

I was going to call this ‘What She Wants Tonight’ ... but then I decided to keep the Latin theme.

So you get Elias back-! 🎉

What She Wants Tonight - Luke Bryan  (Because of course it’s Luke Bryan)

Disclaimer: Trespass & associated characters not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine. / Call backs to Veritas / Kyle Sullivan (Guns for Hire) gets another name drop.

Premise: You hadn’t expected him to call you, of course. But then you didn’t think you’d expected to see him again either. On this mission you must work together. But it’s clear that that’s not your only objective...

Words: 7171

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual Pre-Amble / I really can’t write action scenes.

_____ She walks up, velvet rope unhooks She snaps her fingers and a drink comes She locks you down with just one look She's got this whole club undone If she's on the rebound, you ain't gonna know it Coming off a heartbreak, she ain't gonna show it She's eyes caught, red dot, locked on me, yeah She wants my hands on her body She wants to burn like she's made of fire Said she ain't going home 'til we Drink every drop of Kentucky dry Don't even know what she'll do when she does it Palm of her hand, I'm hers in the blink of an eye She don't take no and I love She gets what she wants And I get to be what she wants tonight I get to be what she wants tonight I get to catch all her secrets Sequins bouncing off flashing lights If she wants it, then we're leaving Get me home, park the truck, cut the tires I get to be where she goes when she's lonely The last door of the night she's closing Oh, I know she could have anything, but And I don't know how I got to be The only thing she needs right now

---

To anyone who wasn’t aware, the building could have been a normal office block, the people going in and out certainly appeared to be normal office workers. A few of them were – in order to hide their organization, the first few levels of this building had been rented to businesses, but the rest of the block belonged to the Agency.

You stepped gently into the elevator and swiped your access card, pushing the elevator button for your floor you stood back against the mirrored walls and waited to ascend.  Of course, by the time you were to the floor, Joel was already busy running around gathering papers and talking loudly on phones… it was clear that you wouldn’t be here long, they would have you out the door as quick as they had you in. Joel was a little like a personal assistant. Although an ‘assassin’ in his own right he was more on the level of office worker casual, than your higher ranking. He was not your partner - although you did use him as such on occasion - and you were not his mentor, he had been taught the basics by others but that’s as far as he got. He was your go between, only top clients saw you face to face (and were always surprised that you was a woman) everyone else went through Joel, he arranged your payments and sent off your confirmation… sometimes he helped on intel, or clean up detail, but he also arranged transport and set things between your Superior and yourself. He managed to offer you a quick nod as he rushed around, which you gratefully returned… you ascended a flight of steps and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” You entered. “Y/N. Quick as ever to the call I see.” “There isn’t often a time when I cannot get here. I’d like to keep my records intact.” “And they are quite some records.” Your Superior indicated to the chair in front of him, “Please sit.” You did as was asked, crossing your legs one over the other. “…It’s a wonder to me why the Master has not called you up yet.” “Because he knows that I’m good at ground work. If you pulled me up another level then, of course, I would have jurisdiction over several assassin’s as you do, but I would only get called to field work in times of dire need… and We haven’t had a real firefight in close to 100 years. I would do better out there. Plus aren’t you all men?” you managed to crack a little smile, “I’m not indicating sexism, but…” He gave a small shrug, “They all think you’re male anyway. As we all go by codenames here.” “Yes there is that.” You nodded to the window, “Joel appears to be working hard on the next big thing already,” your eyes flicked back to your Superior, “I assume I am needed right away?” “Yes…” He handed you over a file “As you’re in the area, we thought that might take your fancy. It isn’t directly your job, but it does pay well.” You opened the file and raised an eyebrow, “Nilo? Again?!” “Several of these drug lords are untouchable. As you well know.” “Eh, they give good business, some even pay well,” you flicked the page, “these just seem to be calls for several underlings…” “Several big Russians are getting too big for their boots, too…” “So there’s a lot going on?” “I would only send my best to several jobs at once.” You took the second file from the desk, they all looked to be linked, “These guys aren’t in situ yet, are they?” “No. But we have it on good ear that they will be.” “So Nilo calls for the blood of the Russians, and some” you squinted as you read the name, “…This sounds like drug wars?” It had been a while; they weren’t exactly to your taste. Nilo was a very old client indeed – back when you were just starting out on your own. “You have connections.” “Yes. Joel is useful in that respect too… Does he know?” Joel would know the when and where and exactly what you’d need. You doubted he’d be doing so much rushing if he knew what this was really for. “You can brief him.” “Hmm. Well, it’s a good thing we focus on the numbers and not the side…” You stood, collecting the folders together, “Consider it done.” “Good. Your payment for yesterday has been wired. The man himself has been reported missing. I assume no body will turn up?” “Not on my watch. Unless someone asks for it specifically.” You waved the folders, “Expect some good news within the next few days.” “I always do with you, Y/N. Good luck.” “Thank you Sir. But I won’t need it.”

 As you exited the room and took the stairs you called to him: “Joel!” He fell in step as you hit the floor; “Can get the car out front, I’ve sent intel up to Marty, meet in 10?” “Sure, let me go see what our weapons tech has for me then… you ready?” “Sounds like there’s a war brewing.” “Drugs war. Hope you enjoy undercover.” “Me? Oh Geez…” Joel’s face told the story you expected “Well I’m not even supposed to be there am I? They don’t call me Ghost Shadow because they can see me, do they?” “It’s actuall-” “Don’t care, Joel, remember…” You looked to him with a smile, you’d never had much patience for whispered codenames, “Besides, you have the connections.” He scoffed, “Don’t rope me in with the drugs guys, Nilo’s just used me before.” “Yeah, but I want other side intel.” You tapped him in the chest with your folder, “Get it.” “Yes Sir.” “Funny.”

***

Your weapon’s technician looked as enamoured as ever to see you, his smile bright as you walked onto his floor: “Y/N!” “Marty.” “…Off already?” “One day I’m taking the first fight out to Cozumel and NOONE is going to stop me.” “If you ever get a break, considering what you do, I’m going to give you free range and let you clear out my weapons cache entirely.” “Oh? You’d do that for me?” You fluttered your eyelashes teasingly “Marty!” you tapped your card in, and opened the doors, “What do you have in?” “New? Since you were last in here?” “Don’t give me that tone! Because if there’s one thing I know, you are a collector and second, I haven’t been using this particular weapons store in my work recently, so, yes, new!” “Usually you carry your own pistol.” “Usually?” You gave him a wry smile, “Always. And I do, but everything else-” “What I like most about your pistol is its untraceable.” “Well. That’s how he made it.” “So it WAS his.” “Yes. It the least I could do to honour him.” “…Well, you are right, I do collect. I have several new rifles in, but you’re not such a fan. I also have a light weight sniper gun, and if you were ever interested in something smaller for close range-” “A pocket gun?” You chucked, “Bring it, a lot less messy than a knife.” “So they do work?” “Execution style. Yeah – anything will work if you want it to. I mean, sometimes us Assassins have to improvise; that said its always hoped things will never get that messy.” He slid the tiny gun across the table to you, “It’s not been road tested yet. But… I can think of no better person to try it out. Careful.” “Will be,” you patted it as you slid it into your top coat pocket, “and for Joel?” “What do you think he’ll need?” “You’ve read the file, you tell me! Don’t forget rope; the most useful thing you could give me.” “Kinda think a gun would be more useful.” “Rope saves lives, guns take lives. Get my meaning. Besides, how else do you expect me to ascend or descend a building?!” “Stairs!? A lift!? This is Nilo we’re talking about, it’s not exactly big budget. This isn’t Mission Impossible.” “Well it could be-!” You cracked a smile as Marty muttered under his breath, collecting everything up – he handed the bag to you, “Have a good trip. See you in a few days.” “Of course! Thanks!” *** Joel complained the whole way; it was to be expected - you were used to getting into the middle of gang and mafia warfare. Taking out politicians and heads of state. Drugs sometimes, on a higher level – but drugs carried its own problems… This, in particular, was way below your pay grade. “You’re too good for this.” “He’s fronting the right amount of money and he wants me.” “No, fact is you should have been off shit like this years back. You did some good jobs back then, but you’re above this now. And drugs?!? Y/N, you abhor drugs. It’s like your one thing.” “Look, if He sends me then I can’t push back.” “You have authority, surely?” “Well it’s a little late now. Next time I’ll think on it.” “Yeah well, you better.” His hard stare switched from you to the road. No doubt, Joel didn’t want to be mixed up in this any more than you. Perhaps it was about time you asked to politely be removed from anything related to them.

When you pulled into the parking lot he began grumbling even more. Of course Joel had most of the intel, maybe he’d need a little more research but, that’s what the first meeting was all about. Sometimes you thought he’d rather stay at HQ and feed you the info via a web link. “I mean, a strip club. Could this be any more degrading for you?!” Joel was about to launch into how the Agency should think before sending their best female agent to places like this, to stop the tirade you gave a smile and a joke instead. “As long as you’re not expecting me to get up and dance?” You nudged him, “Besides the girls all love you.” “Not interested.” Was his blunt reply, reaching into the back seat for his case. “Nothing will cheer you up today, huh?” “No. It’ll get worse.” You rolled your eyes, “Okay, so let’s get in, get it done, get out.”

*** To be honest when you’d left your card with Elias you never expected him to call it. Maybe hoped on it, but you’d been done with hoping after a few days; those had now bled into months - and you had plenty of kills under your belt since then (and a grovelled apology from Kyle Sullivan. He hadn’t called on you again since.) But your day got a little better as you wandered into the club and very nearly snorted, hiding your face and smirk behind Joel for a moment. “What?” “Remember when I told you about that little bit of trouble at Mr.Sullivan’s place?” “Yeah, I remember...” “Guess we just stumbled on where they came from.” If it had pleased you, Joel turned another shade of glum. “Brilliant.”

Indeed, though you looked pretty collected as you approached Nilo, Elias has turned sheet white. The others wouldn’t have noticed, you’d taken them all out before they saw your face. Well, maybe except the big guy but he was eyeing you with a certain level of curiosity, instead of what was going through Elias’ mind. Clearly not so happy to see you. You didn’t even spare him a proper glance, nodding to Nilo instead. “It’s been a minute.” “Indeed it has, Y/N. Welcome. We’ll certainly be glad to use your services once more…” “No use kicking around, I suggest we discuss the job.” You bowed your head gently, if only to say my pleasure - with a smirk. Because it would be your pleasure. Although, looking back to Elias you were sure that not everyone was glad. *** Elias didn’t really speak much during the briefing; you already counted too many people involved – and Joel was getting antsy. You’d just have to deal with it, you could do this alone but Nilo wanted to make sure everything was done to his letter – and therefore was sending a group along with you. You didn’t particularly understand this; did he think you were still a kid who’d only just started out? Reckless and a little dumb? You thought it was more likely the group he wanted to send were the ones who would mess everything up. Elias and Ty were amongst them. Elias, being the obvious one you knew – who did not like being under the weight of your stare – and Ty being the one you’d picked out as a potential problem back at Mr. Sullivan’s house. Elias’s brother, Noah, was also in on the meeting and a couple of guys who looked less tough than paper, who you would refuse to take when it came to your terms… but let Nilo think he’s in control, for now. Joel and yourself were now sitting at the bar of the club, him facing it with his laptop, grumbling like there was no tomorrow. And you facing the pole dancers, back against the bar. You’d never had the inclination to get up there and do that, but you were 99% sure you could; maybe one day you’d give someone a run for their money. Joel had ordered some cocktail that came with a lollipop and you wasted no time in stealing that. Your drink wasn’t alcohol, you didn’t drink on a job – Champagne was for afterwards. Joel was drinking to get himself through this one. “So?” “I can’t believe this.” “You’ve said that 20 times.” You removed the candy from your mouth, “I need, you know, something useful.” “I mean the complex itself is relatively easy to get into, you don’t even need the code, just fry everything. There’s multiple floors but there’s hardly anywhere that’s going to have cover…” He was staring hard at the schematic. “Why are we not going alone? The more bodies in a corridor the harder this is!” “Joel.” You warned. “Okay, you just need to get to the inner most point. It looks like one of those panic rooms.” You half turned to his screen as he tapped it, replacing the lolly with an agreeing hum. “Assured your guy, and whatever drugs or shit you gotta haul on back, is there.” He turned to you, looking more than a little disgruntled that he was having to do this, “I’ll make a couple of calls. It won’t be hard. And forgodsake, please do not drag this personal hell out for me.” “I’ll try.” You gave a gently sarcastic smile and he sighed. “And PLEASE stop doing that overtly sexual thing you do! Like, I don’t need it.” “It’s not for you.” “I think he’s a bad idea.” Joel eyes were back on his laptop, and you weren’t sure if his uncomfortable shift was just for show. You supposed he was only going to point back to his ‘degrading’ speech if you pressed further. “I didn’t ask you.” “No, and I can see why.” Of course you were playing a game here. You knew Elias was watching you – there wasn’t much out there you weren’t aware of. That was all part of your training. But you’d noticed that try as he might he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and you could busy yourself with being a seductress whilst also being teasing and paying him absolutely no mind. What you’d also come to the dissatisfying conclusion of was that his girlfriend was also here; oh, and she was not impressed. You didn’t really care, it was fun to play them against each other, in fact maybe it was more satisfying to have her here, realising exactly what you were doing. Because she was all over him and that was not an exaggeration, but Elias was pushing her out of the way to keep on staring at you. So, if Joel really didn’t think you were going to sit on this stool with your chest pushed out and your shirt riding up, sucking on a lollipop… well he should know better. You didn’t need to show too much skin: the idea was to let his imagination do the work. From what you could tell, Elias’ imagination was working overtime. Joel left you alone to make his series of phone calls outside, convinced that he needed air anyway. Which you’d laugh at of course, considering he’d probably kill his time outside smoking. At which point you turned back to the bar and gathered your thoughts – before you would begin to clear your head of everything but the mission. That was all that would matter for the next few days; that was all that had to matter. As you were pondering this however, you were approached by someone else, and you didn’t really have to guess who had made his way across the club to you. “Well, I see you can’t even call a number on a card, how do you expect me to think that you can pull this off?” Elias slid onto the stool next to you, tipping his head, “It’s not that simple.” You turned your eyes on him, “I get it, you have a girlfriend. Don’t tell me you’re not interested. And if you’re not, don’t come over here and talk to me, keep it strictly business.” He rummaged in his jacket pocket and your calling card was placed back on the table, “I wanted to.” You couldn’t help but smile as you stared at it, “Wanting is something you can say easily, the doing is the only thing I have use for.” Your fingers brushed his as you pushed the card back towards him, “Keep it, if you ever decide to become useful to me.” “Y/N…” The bar tender placed a drink in front of him without Elias even asking and your look away from him was enough to be an eyeroll, with the way you stared straight at the back wall. He spent enough time here for that then. He took a sip, eyeing yours. “You don’t drink?” “Not on the job no.” “Y/N, what are you doing here?” “I’m an assassin, I told you that. It’s like you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said since I walked in.” “Is that any surprise?” His voice was laced with sugar, which made you a little uncomfortable as you turned to him. Those blue eyes were watching your face intently, and if you thought that a man like him was capable of melting, that might be what you’d call it. “Please, Elias. Go back to your girlfriend.” There was a pause, before he leant into your space and you sighed in obvious frustration. “Why do you need two guns?” He indicated to the one on the counter that no one was paying any mind to, and then to your hip, partially concealed by your coat. “Assassin as good as you.” “Will you do what I say, if I tell you?” His smile became a grin that was more of a smirk, “Depends what you tell me to do.” You couldn’t help but hum a laugh as you unholstered the one on your belt, “That,” you waved at the one on the counter, “that’s my own, it’s no big deal. It’s probably standard issue – due an upgrade, but it’s never let me down. Call me superstitious, but I’d quite like to keep it around. This baby…” You weighed the one in your hands up. “Belonged to my mentor.” “The one that used to spew Latin before he killed people?” You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded: he remembered. “So why do you have it?” You placed it with your own and leant into him, you became a little huddle and lowered your voice, “Because he died, Elias. It’s in honour and memory of him.” There was a moment’s pause, and Elias wondered if you’d opt to continue the conversation, “…How? I mean your line of work is dangerous but-” “The Agency killed him, made me watch.” The flicker across Elias’ face was both apologetic and a revelation; ‘that might explain a few things’ “He fell in love with a target, he couldn’t kill her. Eventually the Agency found out and executed him.”  It was weird for you to just out and say it like that, it jarred you – you weren’t sure what you were thinking, saying something so personal. You were supposed to have better instincts than that. Did you trust him? There was something cold about the way you were talking that didn’t fit with the look on your face, and Elias tipped his head – “But you’re working alone now, you have no mentee of your own?” He seemed to be asking if that process would be too painful for you. Instead you gave a shake of your head, “No. I have no patience for that. I would be no good, not yet anyway. Not all of us make it through the process – hence why Joel is my assistant and not an assassin himself. He has all the skills, he didn’t pass all the tests.” You frowned momentarily, then shrugged, “I’ll probably die doing this, or see myself old enough to take my bosses job. Though, I’ve never been much of a girl for desk work.” Elias would agree with that, “How long have you been doing this?” “…That’s… a little too much of me to expose to you.” Oh, but you liked this didn’t you? Talking to him. To someone who was actually interested in you. “I never knew my parents. The Agency has a specific way of testing kids at orphanages and such. There’s no attachment, nowhere for the kids to run. Still, they take care of you better than some children get treated by their own parents so, I guess there’s a win somewhere.” Something twinged in Elias by the look on his face, making you realise you’d touched on something that was a little too much of him to expose to you. You left it alone. “I guess you have a point there.” “Uh huh.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you looked over his shoulder, this girlfriend of his had spotted the two of you talking and the livid look on her face was only making your ego swell a little. There was no way she didn’t know he was into you, and you were invested enough in the conversation to have some attachment to him. You wondered if he’d told her about your kiss, if it was obvious to her by the way Elias looked at you. But he was still watching your face, even when you turned away, the way you were smirking and clearly enjoying yourself, “What?” He was clearly amused, he hoped it was him. “Your little girlfriend is about to blow a fuse.” Elias’ face fell instantly as he looked over his shoulder, “Oh-” “She a dancer here?” He didn’t need to nod, “You walking cliché.” You nudged him off his bar stool, “Go. Go on.” “Try not to miss me.” He shot back, hands getting a little too friendly as his touch lingered on you. Instead you scoffed, picking up your cup, “Trust me, I won’t.”

 ** You kicked around for another day and a half, longer than you would have liked, but once Joel had his intel sorted the small group you assembled had to make the plan water tight. Which means they listened to you, no questions asked. Ty was about the only one you really trusted, he was built for this and he took an interest in you for reasons you thought were kind of unhealthy; not an assassin, you could tell he was probably going to enjoy this. You never took enjoyment from killing – it was just your job. Still, Ty was quiet and nodded along. Elias didn’t. And to be honest, if you weren’t having so much fun playing him and Petal – you’d tried not to snort – off against each other, you’d be more pissed with him than you already were. “She is NOT coming on this mission!” “She always tags along.” “You’re not running this mission Elias, I AM. And there’s only one thing I have a hard stop on, and that’s drugs.” Before he could protest the irony of what you were doing you continued, “She’ll fuck the whole thing up and I know you know that. I will not take drug dependants on this mission. Or we can take her, but I’ll put a bullet in her head the second I feel I have to and I won’t hesitate.” “---You’re…. insane!” “It’s my job. I don’t fail on my tasks; your little gang of tag-alongs are not going to change that.” “Then I won’t come.” “Well don’t. Explain to Nilo why, for all I care.” Elias sighed, faltering on the fact you would give him up so fast, a little too easily for someone who wanted to labour a point, “Okay. Okay… I’ll tell her.” “You better…” He turned away but you pulled him back by his jacket, “Woah, hey. Your brother’s not coming either.” “Oh my god-” “Because he’s the opposite problem. He’s not taking his medication and he’s erratic. You think I can’t read tells?” “No, on this I might be inclined to agree you have the right idea.” “So we’re agreed, on the same page.” Elias didn’t meet your eyes as he nodded, “Yeah.” “So we’re getting somewhere.” Your arms folded, confident little smile making him give you that same melted look. Scratch all previous thoughts, Elias was easier to play than a deck of cards. You wondered how long he’d spent looking at your calling card and desperately wishing to call the number. You wondered why Elias hadn’t already. What was his real reason? He could give you as many cocky smirks and sarcastically suggestive little quips as he wanted – you could see right through him. “I thought we already were.” *** You should have bet on how much complaining Joel was going to do, by the fact that he was muttering curses in more than one language under his breath. For the first part of the journey you thought it was funny, and responded in kind. Linguistics was a nice hobby, and Joel and yourself had a healthy competition on how many you could learn. Aside from that, it was good business practice. For the second half of the journey you settled into silence, closing your eyes and taking yourself through all your focus meditation and breathing exercises – before checking and double checking your weaponry. Then triple checking it – obviously. All with Joel still grumbling on, and Elias and Ty asking each other if this was something they ought to be doing. Joel slowed the van and parked up, the complex was in view, but you were out of sight. You had split yourself into two teams: Elias and yourself, and Joel and Ty. You would clear the first few floors together – without breaking a sweat – and then they would go on look out and you’d take out the name on your rap sheet. Obviously your assistant was as impressed with this arrangement as he was with everything else – but he was on side with you, and he understood it. He could make sure there were no screw ups. Joel also had a build like Ty did, so he wasn’t about to be taken out, or by surprise, by him. You all had communication links to each other so you could keep tabs, but you wanted radio silence unless absolutely necessary. The only good thing about this was that you didn’t really have to worry about how messy you were, Nilo didn’t have a preference for making someone disappear, he just wanted the man killed. As predicted the four of you swept the first few floors silently, splitting the building nearly in half you came to the point where you’d be leaving Joel behind, turning to him you opted to continue your language game: “You know where you’re going?” “I know what I’m looking for.” “Be careful. I don’t trust them.” “The feeling is mutual.” “Yell if you need anything.” He shot Elias a look before turning to you, “I’d say the same, but I think you can handle yourself!” You chuckled, “Thanks, Joel. Until later.” And, indicated for Elias to follow you, ascended the stairs.

  ***

Everything looked very different up here, but was equally as quiet. There’d be security every so often, you were sure of that, as there had been downstairs. Perhaps more, considering your target was their boss, but nothing you didn’t think yourself capable of handling. “So, I don’t get it, is this a drugs complex, or a house!?” You turned to Elias as he stared around the walls: very domestic from the bland grey concrete you’d seen downstairs. “Both.” It wasn’t a guess; you’d seen the schematic. “A safe house?” “Round about, we’re heading for a panic room.” “You have that map stored in your head?” You kept the pistol steady as you rounded the corner, it was clear and you beckoned him on, “Is that impressive?” “Vaguely.” You chuckled, “I’ll take it.” You suddenly pulled back, slamming Elias against the wall as a bullet streaked passed you, “Shit!” You weren’t worried about that, immediate with your retaliation fire. You were trained for this, it was instinct. There was more than one of them and you had to bring them down quick less they raise the alarm, you had no time to think about cover: about the only thing Elias did think of. “They’ll have heard bullets, I gotta go.” You turned back to him, “Your choice, go back to them or try to keep up!” Trying to keep up was much easier said than done, and you had sprinted out of sight by the time Elias had run around the next corner. “Ah, shit.” He ran a hand through his hair, “Well, I’ve followed her this far!” You must have been quick, because Elias made it another couple of floors up before he found any signs that you might have had difficulty, what worried him was that it was your mentors’ gun that was lying on the ground – so out of the way it’d probably been kicked or thrown there. Carelessly; you hadn’t just decided to drop it. You certainly would have retrieved it.  Whoever your mentor had been, however you tried to hide it, Elias knew he’d meant a lot to you. Picking it up, the still loaded chamber and half empty magazine told a worse story to him. What the hell had happened to you?! Surely they hadn’t overpowered you? Not you! *** Elias almost started to believe it as he continued walking, as suddenly there wasn’t a body, or blood or an empty casing anywhere in sight. Everything was still quiet. Not a sound, not even on the radio. He arrived on the next floor, and again everything was clear. It occurred to him to call the other two for help very nearly a little too late, as, more concerned with finding out where you were, Elias rounded the next corner without his pistol up. In fact, without a pistol at all, and he was faced with yours. “You’re lucky that I check what I’m shooting at before I pull a trigger, Elias! Geez!” You flicked the safety on. “ME!? You just gave me a heart attack! Where the hell did you go!?” You shuffled on the spot with a little shrug, “Look, just, don’t go upstairs into the office, okay?” “Office…? What? I thought you said he had a panic room.” “He absolutely had a panic room – he wasn’t in it. It was not the cleanest kill I’ve ever made and…” You paused staring up at the ceiling, “At least it’s done.” He followed your eyeline and grimaced, leaking through the ceiling already was a patch of blood, “That’s a lot of bodies or it’s a terribly built house-!” “Bit of both…” You looked to him, “Hardly matters right now, don’t you think?” “Who the hell are you, Y/N?” Your head tipped, regarding him seriously in the eschewing silence to his question. “You really want to know that?” He nodded firmly, “Yes.” Elias wasn’t sure he liked the smile you gave back, the way it made the heart leap in his chest, and a shudder run up his spine. You grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall this time not to protect him – far from it. Your lips on his were rough, this wasn’t love…  you weren’t even sure you could call it chemistry. But it was something. Elias pulled your body into his, your fingers running into his hair, he groaned into the kiss as you raked your nails across his scalp. But you continued to push his body as you made him breathless. Oh… shit. Elias could barely think properly as he ran his hands under your coat and over your ass, pulling your shirt with him, the feel of your supple skin under his calloused hands drove him crazy. Until he found himself backed up against a door, breaking the kiss in confusion. “Maybe you should try it.” You encouraged, voice at a whisper as you brought his lips back to yours, Elias wasn’t going to say no, and it swung open behind his push. This time when he broke the kiss it was only to smirk. “Oh? A bedroom?” “Uh huh.” He turned back to you, eyes raking your body as they had done before, but now significantly more hungry. You pushed a finger to his lips before he started getting clever: “…Stop talking… stop thinking… don’t make me wait any longer.” Replacing your finger with your lips, Elias pulled back to nod, “Okay.” He pulled you into his arms, relieving you of your coat immediately. It was almost like no time had passed at all, he tasted the same as you remembered, whisky and cigarette smoke. Elias pulled you closer, certainly not eager to break the kiss or let you go for even a moment. You pulled off his leather jacket, throwing it with your own; you revelled in the way that you were both so different, but you wanted the same thing so badly. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He gave you a small smirk. You let the look on your face answer for you, to which Elias grinned, hands under your shirt he pulled it over your head, allowing you to relieve him of his own. His fingers ghosted over your skin, and he paused momentarily: every so often there was a litter of scars. You weren’t about to count the number of times you’d been in real trouble, but you always got out of it. You simply chuckled, “Yeah, no dancing on a stage in just my bra and panties for me.” “That’s not why I’m here.” You’d agree with that, kissing him gently again, your fingers grazed over his chest and Elias tensed; “What? Scared?” You smirked against his lips. “A little. It’s not like I don’t know what you’re capable of.” “I don’t sleep with my targets.” You kissed him again, winking as you undid his belt, dragging him back to your lips with his belt loops; this time he bit your lip gently, making you groan against his kiss. Elias picked you up, undoing your pants and bra clasp, pushing you down onto the bed he nipped down your jawline and neck. You pulled him back, reciprocating Elias’ trail of kisses, whispering prayers into his skin in nearly every language you knew. He slid your pants down your legs with a sigh, and he shook under your touch. You were too much for him already, but you weren’t about to show Elias mercy. You smirked wickedly, claiming his lips with your own once more. This man was about to be all yours… *** All of you were clearly sworn to silence. Elias was the more dazed of the three of you (Ty seemed none the wiser), and Joel kept throwing you dirty and disgusted looks. You couldn’t care less. You’d done your job, you were entitled to a little fun every once in a while, your assistant didn’t have to be a killjoy. Overall though, you were disappointed in yourself, somewhere along the way – probably when you were dealing with everyone who was actually occupying the panic room – you’d lost your most important possession. You weren’t about to admit that out loud, but you hadn’t been able to find it as you had made your way back downstairs. You vowed you’d get it back, but you’d rather go back with Joel and do a real sweep without the other two around. There was too much going on here – and it was obvious Joel wanted out and away from here as soon as possible. That was fine with you. You dropped Elias and Ty back at the bar, and you were wondering if this time it might really be it. Were you both satisfied now? It scared you that you might not be sure of the answer to that. Joel went to deliver the news and package, and Ty wasn’t one to kick around, leaving you and Elias outside. “Well, now you can get back to that girlfriend of yours.” “Is that really any way to say goodbye?” “I don’t want to get emotionally involved here.” Though your eyes strayed from his face a little too much for Elias to want to believe that. “Does that make everything easier for you?” “Yeah.” You folded your arms, no point in skirting around that. Elias for once looked like he was seeing right through you, “Except there’s one thing that makes you show your cards.” “What?” You narrowed your eyes at him, how dare he stand here acting like he had you all figured out. Elias rummaged in his jacket, and you nearly gasped as he presented you with your mentor’s pistol. “He must have been one hell of a guy.” “He… was.” You took it from him delicately, “You found it.” “It’s important. Right?” “…Thank you.” And there was emotion behind that, you both knew it. “You’re welcome.” Although his hand took yours, thumb running over that tattoo on your wrist, and down to your fingers, Elias was so close to entwining them. He thought better of it, instead twisting the ring so that ‘Veritas’ very clearly faced him – you just about admit to yourself you were disappointed. “My offer is still on the table, you know?” You gave a small smile, “If you ever want to be useful, you have my number.” He chuckled, “Well. I’ll… think on it.” Then added, with a smile, “That’s the truth.” “Don’t think.” You took a step back as Joel called you, walking briskly back to the car. Yes, he certainly wanted out. “I told you, the only thing worth it, is the doing!” ** Amazingly Joel did not go ballistic at you – you thought he was just glad to be out. On top of that he knew you’d seen the looks he was shooting you, and you supposed he thought that said it all. To be honest it probably did, and you would both vow silently to never talk about this again. You pulled your pistol apart to check it, as you always did and, satisfied, you pulled your mentor’s apart too. Pausing as you checked the magazine, sitting in the top was a rolled-up piece of paper. You smiled to yourself, only guessing what it said. You pieced the pistol back together and unravelled it. He’d watched you do this on the journey, so Elias could be certain that you’d check your gun pretty soon after he’d returned it. Spera - Trust. ‘Someone is a show off’. You almost laughed as you read the number before rolling it up again and pocketing it. Truth and Trust seemed almost ironic. And yet also seemed to be completely fitting. You made sure to be safely home, to ensure that Joel wasn’t physically ill. And also to wait a few days, to keep Elias hanging. Which he was, because that man wasn’t like you. You could wait on him to call like it was no big deal – but he would be checking that mobile of his every ten minutes at the very least. Predictably he picked up on the second ring: “Y/N?” “Hey, babe.” You would be directly flirty, you’d tell Elias what he wanted to hear, “I see my number must be saved in that phone of yours, you just never pressed the call button. See, even a busy girl like me can action something.” “I… I’m just glad you did.” You left a significant pause, enough to make him uncomfortable, “Are you asking me to trust you?” “The truth is important to you, isn’t it? Don’t you trust me?” Your voice became quiet, all too aware of the vulnerability of admittance: “I do. It scares me that I do.” You sighed, “But that hardly matters. I told you I like action. So, if I don’t want you to call me unless it’s for you to be useful, I figured that my calling you was only ever about offering you the opportunity to be so…” “How?” Elias’ voice was eager, you could almost see his nails digging into the bar, the tension running through him, a slight dark tint to those blue eyes of his. “You ever been to Boston?” “…No?” “Well, if you get yourself on a flight over… I can give you an address.” “You live in Boston?” “You asked me to trust you.” “I did.” There was relief and understanding in that sentence. “When?” “Whenever you want, babe. I’ll let you know if I get called anywhere though, wouldn’t want you to waste a trip.” “Considerate of you.” “Well, like for like.” You smiled, “Just one more small favour, Elias. An… assurance. Perhaps an insurance policy. Before you do come all the way out to me.” “What’s that?” Really what he was saying was anything. I’ll do anything. “I told you that my mentor died because he fell in love with a target…” “You did.” Then he quickly added, “I won’t… tell anyone!” You shook your head, Elias was jumping ahead of himself. As were you. But you weren’t sure where this was going, and yet you had to be certain. It wasn’t that you thought you were about to fall in love. You might, it wasn’t beyond you. It was that if you were asked to kill him… you weren’t your mentor. You weren’t scared that you’d be unable to pull the trigger, you were scared of the knowledge that you could. “Yes, well. Just don’t do anything to piss anyone off, okay?”

---

Thank you for reading! 😁💙

[timeagainreviews]

Reappraising Companions

Years after having watched every available episode of Doctor Who, I've had plenty of opportunities to rewatch episodes time and time again. As with most movies and television, I've found revisiting certain stories and eras has caused me to see them in a different light. A story I may have once reviled is suddenly more interesting. I even came to appreciate Peter Davison's performance as the Fifth Doctor for its subtle nature. But what about companions? Are there any companions I didn't care for at first, which I've softened toward over time? That is the question I wish to explore.

Below I've chosen a selection of companions of whom I had initially disliked for various reasons. They span across multiple eras and both the classic and modern versions of the show. With each companion, I have endeavoured to be fair in my reappraisal, but this doesn't mean I've changed my mind. I would also like to state that none of these appraisals are about the actors. My goal is to evaluate companions by the way they were written. The performance will come secondary.

1. Danny Pink

I chose Danny Pink to kick this list off because he is the reason I am writing this article in the first place. Recently, I took to rewatching a selection of Danny Pink episodes, in hopes that I may find something I didn't initially see. When Samuel Anderson was cast as Danny, I was excited. I've always been a big fan of male companions. They offer a different dynamic to the TARDIS that we don't often get to experience. However, in the wrong hands, they can be exhausting. Enter Steven Moffat.

When Steven Moffat took the reins of Doctor Who, he introduced us to Rory Williams. A smart, loyal, and combative male companion, not at all enamoured with the Doctor's mystique. At his worst, Rory was made to compete with the Doctor for Amy's affection. At his best, Rory held the Doctor accountable for the lives he brought aboard the TARDIS. With Danny, I felt like this is what Moffat was trying to do again, but this time, it wasn't as successful.

When we're introduced to Danny, we watch him and Clara fumble over their words like teenagers. It's meant to be cute, but their chemistry is non-existent. It feels like watching an episode of Coupling, in that it's painful and causes me to scan the room for exits. Their adorkable awkwardness is supposed to endear us to their relationship, but it seems forced. This is compounded when the Doctor enters the equation. Forcing Danny to fight for something very few of us in the audience believe in the first place.

Once again we find the male companion being forced to compete with the Doctor for the affection of a woman. But in this instance, instead of holding the Doctor accountable, Danny seems to hold the Doctor in contempt. Coming from his own history of military training and PTSD, Danny projects all of his inner struggles onto the Doctor. Which is unfortunate, as Danny's inner turmoil is his most humanistic trait. This wouldn't be the first time in Moffat's era where the Doctor's nature as a hero was called into play. The problem with Danny's appraisal of the Doctor as a general, barking orders, is that he's wrong. And we as an audience know it.

Not only do we know it, but so does the Doctor. The Doctor even gets a character arc over the identity crisis Danny gives him, wherein he realises Danny is wrong about him. Danny, however, never comes around to the Doctor's side. Even in his final moments on screen, he remains combative with the Doctor, in an exhausting refusal to grow as a character. We're supposed to believe he's come to some sort of character growth of self-acceptance by sacrificing his chance at a new life, for the life of a boy he mistakenly killed. Instead, he carries the same chip on his shoulder to his grave.

Danny is a companion wholly failed by writing. Even at his most heroic, it seems in service of making the Doctor look like a buffoon. His mimicking a soldier while yelling in the Doctor's face is embarrassing for everyone involved. Imagine this is your boyfriend meeting your friends. You would be mortified by his behaviour. Now imagine you have to lie about hanging out with your friends because it might make your boyfriend upset. Now imagine this friend is a very dashing person who constantly puts the lives of others before him. Danny and Clara's courtship is a romance by gaslight.

2. Clara Oswald

Clara is a whole other can of worms. I could probably dedicate an entire article to her character. I should clarify that my initial dislike for her character is somewhat mired in personal disappointment. By the time Clara was introduced, we had seen a string of modern human companions. We got the occasional tertiary companions from the future, such as Captain Jack or River Song. But we hadn't had a main companion from the past, future, or another planet. So when Jenna Coleman was introduced as Oswin Oswald, Junior Entertainment Manager of the starliner Alaska, I was very excited. Finally, a companion from the future! I was so ready for the Doctor to go on a quest to save Oswin from the cruel fate of becoming a Dalek. What an exciting storyline that was going to be.

And then we see her as governess Clara Oswin Oswald. Ok... Well at least she's still from a different era, right? Oh, she's dead now too? Oh. Much like Moffat's Dracula, all of this great promise was suddenly dashed against the rocks of a contemporary setting. Sigh. I was so excited. What we're given in “The Bells of St. John,” is a new character with less direction than either Oswin or the governess before her. So much that Moffat had taken to literally modulating her brain with an app. Maybe she's really good with computers now? Sorry friends, much like Rose Tyler's gymnastics and Peri Brown's botany, it's never going to come up again.

And this is the biggest issue I have had with Clara Oswald. She spends most of her screen time fluctuating between what character they're writing her as this week. The writers simply didn't know what to do with her while the Doctor tried to figure out why she's so "impossible." One week she's wacky, one week she's stern, another week she's bisexual queer bait. Her characterisation is all over the charts, which sadly, tracks with her entire storyline. She's a woman, fragmented across time, and so is her personality. And don't even get me started on that impossible girl nonsense.

Steven Moffat once said in an interview that one or two people usually guess his big reveal ahead of time, but that no one had guessed Clara's. Perhaps that's because nobody's fan theory was "It's going to be absolute shite." Instead of just being a woman who gets to be her own person, she has to become the most importantest companion. She has to save the Doctor by being planted throughout his timeline, saving him from the Great Intelligence. You know, by sometimes being born as herself, and other times being born as a Time Lord. Sometimes knowing who the Doctor is, other times having no idea whatsoever. Sometimes having a name that is a play on of Oswald, or Oswin, or Clara. And at no times did it make any kind of sense.

The funny thing is, that for me at least, Clara's character doesn't really become interesting until all of that nonsense is behind her. The Clara I find most compelling is the Clara in mourning. Clara post-Danny Pink is a Clara with focus. Her mood swings seem more from a place of destructive behaviour in the wake of great loss. Watching her hold the TARDIS keys hostage above a volcano was some seriously gripping stuff. Aside from the gross digs at her appearance, I found the Twelfth Doctor's relationship with Clara far more endearing than that of the Eleventh Doctor. It may have taken them until her final moments as a companion, but they did get her right, in the end.

3. Melanie Bush

Back in 2015, I had the opportunity to meet Louise Jameson, who played Leela, my all-time favourite Doctor Who companion. I also got to meet Colin Baker, who was all charm. Also in attendance was Bonnie Langford, aka, Doctor Who's Mel. After having gotten autographs from Louise and Colin, and having circled the convention hall a few times, I decided "Sure, why not. Let's meet Bonnie Langford. It's only 10 quid for an autograph." Upon meeting her, she was a very kind woman, and even still, I was racking my brain for something nice to say about Mel. To save face, I lied a very simple lie. I said, "I really liked you in Doctor Who." She smiled, said thank you, and signed my picture. And I walked away, taking my shitty liar mouth with me.

Because the fact is, I didn't like her in Doctor Who. I found every moment she was onscreen excruciating. From her poodle haircuts, to her 80's disaster attire, to her fat-shaming the Sixth Doctor, to her constant screaming at every little thing, she depressed me. I spoke in my review of "Terror of the Vervoids," just how weird it was that we're never actually introduced to her as a character. Instead, Peri is written off, and suddenly, Mel is there, already chummy with the Doctor. You guys know Mel, she's the Doctor's friend, because we told you she was! Instead of getting to know Mel slowly, we're thrown into the deep end, forced to sink or swim within the curls of red hair piled high. Mel doesn't just come out of nowhere, she comes on strong. Fitness expert Mel here to get your fat Doctor Who loving asses into shape. Drink this carrot juice you geek pig!

Not even in Big Finish audios was I finding myself warming up to Mel. When Ace was introduced, they couldn't have pushed Mel out quicker. I found everything about Ace immediately refreshing. Here was a calm and collected badass rebel that I could get behind. It's ironic then; that it was in the Seventh Doctor era that I have begun to find something likeable in Mel. Much like Clara Oswald,  a changing of Doctors enriched my appreciation for her character. This appreciation didn't come immediately, mind you, it came about around my third or fourth watch-through of "Paradise Towers."

Perhaps it's the influence of Andrew Cartmel, but with the Seventh Doctor, I have begun to appreciate Mel in the snarkiest manner. Mel is best utilised as a commentary on the Doctor/Companion relationship. She's precocious to a fault, she chews scenery, she screams at the drop of a hat, and she is oftentimes a naive idiot. Yet in "Paradise Towers," it becomes hilarious. Like much of the 80's era of Doctor Who, there is a very "2000 AD," atmosphere to the stories, and I could easily see this as a setting for Judge Dredd to drudge through, busting skulls and filling bodies with bullets. Setting the sunshiny persona of Mel against this backdrop is so brilliant that I can't imagine another companion in this story. Where she would usually grate against me, her sharp contrast from the things happening around her is exactly why I began to soften toward her.

Not even the ire from the Kangs could shake Mel's confidence, which is oddly what makes her cool. Or "ice-hot," as they would say. For the first time, Mel's headstrong sense of self makes her a rebel. She doesn't need to follow a crowd to feel accepted. Sadly, very few writers were able to find this core to Mel, but it was enough for me to be able to look at her in a different light. I could finally look at Mel and say I did like her in Doctor Who. Even if it was just for a moment, and even if it was somewhat at her expense. From a very cynical perspective, Mel can actually be pretty fun.

4. River Song

I know a lot of you are probably aghast to see River Song on this list, but I assure you, I have my reasons, and they are not without consideration. I should begin by saying some good things about River. She's smart, she's competent, she's got a healthy grasp on her sexuality, and she's cool. Why then did I not like her very much the first few times I watched her? Well, if you hadn't noticed, the bulk of this list are characters written by Steven Moffat, and once again, it all comes down to writing.

We're first introduced to River in the Tenth Doctor two-parter "Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead." At first, she's just one of a team of forgettable space scientists on an expedition. However, as she finds out the Doctor is who he is, her entire demeanour changes. Like Mel on steroids, we're given a heaping dose of "Who does this bitch think she is, being all familiar with the Doctor?" Only, instead of it lasting one episode, it's every interaction we have with her character beyond this point. Instead of getting to watch River and the Doctor grow as a couple, we're forced to watch them meet in opposite directions. It is the antithesis of "show, don't tell." Everything about the Doctor and River's relationship is implied. "You're going to love me someday," she promises. Couldn't we just see it play out naturally? Spoilers.

This idea is one that can only really be done on a show like Doctor Who, where things are wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. The problem is, this doesn't mean that the idea is worth exploring, or even successful. It's made even worse when the relationship implied is one deeper than friendship. The Doctor is famously chaste, married only to his TARDIS and what lies ahead. Because of this, the idea of a person the Doctor will someday trust enough to share his real name and eventually marry carries with it a sizeable amount of convincing. Such a huge shift in the show's dynamic requires a lot of character development. Sadly none of that is to be seen onscreen. Who is Jim the Fish? Who cares? Steven Moffat's joke of "I'll explain later," became painfully prophetic of his time as showrunner.

I've got no complaints about River being a Time Lord, or even her being the child of Amy and Rory. Those elements are fine, really. It's the way in which she is presented which I find most detrimental to her character. I never did buy into the idea that the Doctor loved her as a wife. Their wedding seemed necessary to save the universe, as opposed to a union made out of love. Any kind of enjoyment I've ever gotten out of River stems mostly out of my love for Alex Kingston's performance. Where the show fails to establish her, she more than makes up for in style and substance. I grew to like River Song, despite the show's failure to ground her properly. River grew on me as she always said she would, but by no effort on the part of the writers. River is cool because River is cool, not because it was inferred that she was.

5. Susan

If you’ve followed this blog long enough, you’ll know I’ve already mellowed on Susan. In my reviews of the First Doctor era, I’ve had mostly good things to say about her character. This doesn’t change the fact that I found her utterly irritating at first, and it feels appropriate to talk about it here.

My initial dislike for Susan is a lot like my intial dislike for Clara. A lot of it was wrapped up in my own expectations of the character. Susan is the Doctor’s granddaughter. She is a Time Lord, therefore she should also be brilliant. And we get a lot of that in her first episode. She is mysterious, she’s enigmatic, and she is brilliant. Even her teachers at school found her perplexing. But the show doesn’t continue down that line. In fact, there are times when they make Susan borderline stupid. But how much of this is clouded by my own preconceptions?

For starters, Susan wasn’t a Time Lord. At least, not then. She was just a young girl. She may have been smarter than her fellow students, but this played more into how she was raised. So when the show depicts Susan screaming at every little thing, grabbing her hair dramatically, it smashed apart my mental image of a Time Lord. I couldn’t appreciate that they had her act this way to help sell a bad effect. Oftentimes Susan, like many Doctor Who companions, had her character sacrificed to make the baddies scarier. It was a product of her time, and even still I feel her character suffers for it.

However, one of the things I have discovered through repeat viewings of the First Doctor era is the surprising amount of character development among the TARDIS crew. The Doctor, Ian, Barbara, and Susan all go through deep character development that was sadly often secondary in classic Doctor Who. Before the nature of the Doctor and companions was transient, there was a feeling of a family bond forming. Through this, I have come to find Susan to be a rather deep and sensitive person.

When it comes time to say goodbye to Susan, I can’t say I exactly agreed with the method. The Doctor locking her out and deciding she was mature enough to set out on her own felt hasty. But I would be lying if I didn’t agree that Susan had gone from a little girl to a young woman at that point. When you stop expecting Susan to be the Doctor, and allow her to be a kid, she grows on you instantly.

6. Adric

Let's be honest; it's not really original to hate on Adric. It's nothing new to point out what a bad companion he is, but here we are. Something I constantly endeavour to do on this blog is to be fair. One of my biggest complaints about the Doctor Who fandom is the proprietary attitude people take toward the fandom. The "I don't like it; therefore you shouldn't like it," attitude spat with such vitriol is one of the worst parts about being in the Doctor Who fandom. So when you say "Adric is my favourite companion," I'm not devising an argument for how wrong you are, it's fine. Like who you like. This doesn't mean I'm not also thinking in my head "What? Why?" Because I honestly, without malice, do not understand.

The most I ever enjoyed Adric, was in his introductory story "Full Circle." Setting him against a group of fellow Alzarians dilutes his lesser qualities. In fact, when paired with Varsh, he almost seems likeable. Sadly, we have to say goodbye to Varsh, and it's downhill from there. We're forced to watch a contrarian boy genius butt heads with the Doctor while he waddles around in a toddler's outfit while showing off his pound shop sheriffs badge for "mathematical excellence," to anyone who will listen. Adric is so obnoxious that he makes Wesley Crusher seem likeable in contrast.

However, it's not just his contrarian nature that makes me despise Adric, he's also disloyal to the Doctor and his friends. He's so susceptible to bad ideas as long as they a presented logically, that I've dubbed him the Ben Shapiro of the TARDIS. He's a smarmy little shit who believes himself superior to women, and he's really got no justification for his ill-placed self-confidence. Constantly demanding respect while giving very little reason to deserve it, he's like a poster child for incels. To make matters worse, he's oftentimes wrong and easily duped into taking the side of evil, turning him into more of a liability than an asset.

Recently, the idea that the Thirteenth Doctor could save someone from sacrificing themselves by using the TARDIS at the last moment to save them came under fire. "Why didn't the Doctor do this for Adric?" they said, forgetting conveniently when the Twelfth Doctor did the exact same thing in "Into the Dalek." But yes, why indeed? Why would the Doctor ever let a duplicitous, argumentative braggart die by their own stupid need to solve a math problem? My headcanon is that the Doctor got better at flying the TARDIS. The real reason is that people hated his character. The silence over the credits after Adric dies isn't out of respect for the character. The real reason is that the BBC couldn't secure the rights to Kool and the Gang's "Celebrate Good Times," before it aired.

Listen, I am not unsympathetic toward Matthew Waterhouse. He never should have been given such a big role, considering his utter lack of ability at the time. I imagine it was his own insecurity that fuelled his on-set antics. Giving unsolicited advice to veteran actors is cringey, but also the actions of a young and naive boy, in over his head. I know I said I was going to try and treat the performance as secondary, but in this case, it goes hand in hand. He has the stage presence of a fake. Every moment he's onscreen is disingenuous. The fact that he is present at the death of my favourite Doctor, stinking up the scene is genuine pain to me. If he has been made better in Big Finish, I've not yet heard it. As of now, there is nothing I've seen of Adric that has changed my opinion. But I'm glad if he makes you happy.

[hecckyeah]

The Koenigs! Bobbi! Sousa! 😊

Thanks @missdanielsousa!! 😄❤️

Agents of SHIELD asks:

🖖The Koenigs: Are you a nerd? What fandoms are you in?

Oh I am most definitely a nerd. I try to hide it in my day to day interactions so I don't scare people off lol . . . But log me into Tumblr or put a good sci fi book in my hands, and I go full nerd. I'm a writer, so I totally nerd out over books and well written movies and all that good jazz 😊

One of my first (and my all time favorite) fandoms is Agents of SHIELD (as you may have noticed haha), but I also consider myself part of the MCU fandom, as well as Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Brooklyn 99, and Leverage, to name a few!

🕵️‍♀️ Bobbi: Have you ever wished you were a spy?

I mean . . . Doesn't everyone at some point? Lol

Yes. I have. Quite often, actually. I grew up learning martial arts (jiu jitsu!) and handling various types of guns, so it was kind of built in that I would wish that. My brother and I had little walkie talkies we would use, and we'd play spy all the time. As really young kids my friends and I would conduct in-depth "investigations" on what my brother and his friend were up to. We were interesting kids 😉

⏰ Sousa: If you could go to any time period or place, what would it be?

I've never been the type of person to be enamoured with a different decade or anything . . . So I don't really care about traveling to any specific time, but I have always wished I could meet my great grandpa, who died three years before I was born. He was apparently a one-of-a-kind guy, who spent about forty years of his life traveling and was extremely well known around the area I'm from, and in Tanzania where he spent a lot of time. Everyone I talk to about him says he was one of the best people they'd ever met. So if I could travel back 30 to 40 years and have a good talk with him, maybe write down some words of wisdom . . . I would give anything to do that.

.

send me some asks to get to know me!!

[stained-glass-fragments]

A gasp of shock fell from Farona's lips as her eyes broadened, turning toward the voice she felt she dimly recognized. And there, standing near the back, was a high priest. But not just any high priest. Comical rabbit ears stuck out of a headband perched on his short, light brown hair, and even in the growing darkness of the room, he wore his token pair of sunglasses. And to top it all off, his ever-amused little smirk curled up the side of his lips.

Farona rose to her feet, suddenly feeling apprehensive as she stared back at the man. He was someone she once considered a friend and comrade, a party member, and a trusted companion. But now... "Yune Hiraze," she acknowledged softly. And despite his words, the young knight thought his casual stance leaning back against the wall suggested that he had actually been there for quite some time. She immediately flushed at the thought that he had been watching her - including her little tantrum.

He slinked away from the wall and slowly sauntered closer, his smile widening. "Embarrassed to be caught in prayer at a church? You always were an odd one, weren't you."

She gasped, a hand flying up to her face in attempt to hide her blush from view. Damn, how could he tell?! There was hardly any light in the room!

And as if reading her mind, he supplied, "I can see perfectly well in the dark, you know. It comes in handy for high priests like me to be good supporters in the deep dark bowels of Glast Heim, the Payon caves, and---well, you get the idea." He shrugged, and his smile took on a slightly more playful look as he halted just a few feet away from her.

"Farona, Farona," he mock-chided. "The way you're looking at me, it's as though you expect me to attack you."

She took a shaky step back, clutching her metallic-gloved hands together in front of her skirt. "I--I... you're here to bring me to the authorities, aren't you?" He opened his mouth as if to deny it, but she hastily cut him off with a growl. "Don't you play your dumb mind games with me anymore, Yune! You want the money they're offering, don't you? Or is there something else you would gain? It's always about you and your selfish---everything!" She threw her arms up in the air, eyes blazing in barely controlled fury.

For a moment, the smile vanished from his features, leaving a cold frown. But as if it was just something she imagined, a mere second later, the smile was back in place. And he dramatically clasped his hands over the area of his heart. "You wound me, Farona. I faithfully supported you for how long? Not to mention saving you from dreaded king Osiris when we first met... and you throw such accusations at me?"

Her gaze became frigid, making her eyes appear almost like chiseled ice. "Supported me? By abandoning Ryshun and I in the middle of a bloody battle with the Orc Lord and nearly getting us both killed? You ran away - you disappeared. I knew nothing of how to find you! I never even got the opportunity to get to know you---all you ever seemed interested in was learning everything about me when I wasn't allowed to learn a damn thing about you!" She paused to take a steady breath to calm herself, and looked away. "I don't know why you bothered to show up now. Unless you just want to mock me."

"Do you really believe that's the truth?"

There was an almost foreboding ring to his words that made her heart seem to cease beating - before it pumped wildly against her ribcage with an intensity that made it feel fit to burst at any moment. What did he mean?

She stared at him for almost a full minute before she found her voice. And even then, it was timid. "I want... to know the truth. Tell me the truth, Yune."

"The truth..." he repeated almost thoughtfully as he took another couple of steps toward her, "Is a dangerous thing. Perhaps surprising, perhaps life-changing, perhaps the key to everything..."

Farona's blue-green eyes narrowed. "I said don't start your---"

"Silence." And all it took was that one word to effectively cut her off, spoken with strength and power from the high priest that stood just a scarce few feet away from her. He always looked so cheerful and light-hearted that any amount of seriousness from him shook her to her very core. He seemed almost like a different person.

And as if on cue, the good-natured smile came back to his features. "I've actually come out tonight with the intention of telling you the truth, Farona. Yes. Telling you everything."

The anger receded from her like a balloon deflating. "Really? You will?" And just like that, her eyes lit up curiously, watching the brunette high priest with great interest.

"Now there's the cute face I remember so well," he quipped. A dust of pink flooded her cheeks. "But I imagine you have questions you want me to answer, am I right?" At her eager nod, his smile widened. "Well, go ahead, Farona. You want to know things about me, don't you? You claim you know nothing... and I'm offering you everything."

She licked her lips in preparation, wondering where to begin. There were so many things she wanted to ask about. But first and foremost...

"How... How did you find me here tonight? Was it just coincidence? I'm sure I didn't tell anyone where I was going."

"Ah, yes. That." He grinned broadly, showing a sliver of his white teeth. "Now, this might come as a bit of a surprise..."

Her eyes widened in horror. That look--that smile... "You--You can't read minds, can you?"

The high priest chuckled heartily, shaking his head back and forth. "No, no. I can't read minds. No worries about that. But yes, I certainly did know where to find you. If not mind reading, can you imagine why that would be?"

She blinked quizzically back at him. "Um, you saw me in town, maybe? I probably wasn't able to stay as hidden as I wanted to be." She mumbled the last part in mild embarrassment.

"Wrong again!" he supplied all too enthusiastically. "But you're growing tired of the guessing game, aren't you? Yes, I can tell. Well, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. I knew where you were going, because I followed you."

"But then you must have seen me in town," she argued instantly, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Or before I came to Prontera--maybe out in the fields by--"

"Farona, since the day I supposedly disappeared, you have never left my sight."

The lord knightress's jaw fell open as she stared back at him, dumbstruck, and disbelief etched into every crevice of her features.

"Oh, it's quite true, I assure you," he quickly added upon seeing her reaction. "Frilldora cards are incredibly handy. You don't need to be an assassin to learn that handy little cloaking skill of theirs."

It took a moment before the young woman could gather her wits about her again. And even longer before she could force her voice to speak. "You--You hid?! And you stalked me? Yune, that's not---why would you do such a thing?! We were worried about you and--"

His ever present smile never wavered. "Things didn't quite go as I planned. After all, your irritating little friend screwed up everything. He was supposed to die--and that raging idiot let you get between him and that monster. It took some quick thinking on my part to rescue you without being seen, but that bastard also still managed to survive. Pity..."

"Y-You're a priest!" she burst out frantically, hands shooting up in the air. "You save people! Not--not plot to get them killed! Father Reinfield will never let that--"

"Farona," he interrupted all too calmly. "You wanted the truth. I'm giving it to you."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, and took another few steps away from him, all too eager to put some distance between them. "I-I didn't think it would be so..."

"He was a hindrance," he continued, tone suddenly scathing. "No matter what I did, I could not get that idiot to leave your side. He was lovestruck, I'm sure." The high priest sneered at that, one of the bunny ears on his headband flopping down. "Enamoured with his little childhood friend and too damn lucky for any of my traps to succeed in removing him from the picture."

Farona's knees had started to shake as she looked back at him, trying to dismantle the so-called 'truth' he was spouting. It couldn't be true, could it? He and Ryshun got along while the three of them were traveling together. They exchanged jokes, they both teased her... and now he was saying that all along, he wanted the assassin dead? "Yune..." her voice pleaded.

"Though he did finally leave you just a few short weeks ago, didn't he? Before your accident revealed your little secret. I didn't need him dead so badly that I would go and track him down. He was more of an annoyance, than anything. And besides, without him in the way, my path to you was clear and open. All I needed was a reason for my sudden departure."

The little white ears on the side of her head flattened back. Somehow, she could tell this wasn't one of his jokes. Her voice was small as she spoke. "You followed me... for weeks. And even with him gone to find his sister... you still stayed hidden."

"Ah, I confess... you were absolutely fascinating to watch---especially on your own and without the influence of that childish baboon. I learned more from you in that time than I did with all that you willingly told me months and months ago. Ironic, isn't it?"

Her face flushed abruptly with building anger. "How dare you treat me like some object to---to STUDY. You're no better than those damn alchemis--"

"DON'T--" he interrupted with something that could only be classified as a roar. It echoed in the small chapel, bombarding her from all sides. And then he calmed, but his words, though soft and even, sounded anything but. "Don't you ever compare me to them."

"Oh, I-I..." She looked away awkwardly, her mind racing. Did that mean he didn't believe the lies those men were spreading? Was he actually saying, even indirectly, that he believed them to be as terrible as they really were? The thought made her heart swell in a strange way.

"Well, have another question for me?"

She stole a glance back at him, and noted with almost no surprise that he appeared as though his furious outburst hadn't even happened. The cheerful mask was right back in place, and now that moonlight had entered the enclosure, his features were clearer than before. And those rays of soft bluish-white light shined and reflected off of a certain accessory perched on the bridge of his nose. Nodding once, she kept her eyes rooted to the black shields guarding his gaze from her view. "...The sunglasses. You're wearing them even though it's dark in here. You wear them ALL the time... Why?"

Yune forced a laugh that didn't have even a smidgen of mirth in its depths. "You got quite a reaction from me about it once. Tell me, Farona, do you remember what happened?"

Her brows furrowed in thought. Yes, there had been that one time, about a month after they initially met. She thought him to be sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell in its prone position, the firelight from the campfire dancing and casting shadows along his form and the contours of his face. Her action had been impulsive, stirring from somewhere she couldn't even pin-point, but nonetheless, she had given in. Before she even knew what she was doing, the knight had reached her arm over, intending to pull the glasses off -- when with remarkable reflexes, he swiftly snatched her wrist just as her fingertips brushed the side of the solid object.

And he had warned her then that the sunglasses were not to be touched. Ever.

"You stopped me," she said. "And told me not to touch them."

His smile widened as he tip-tapped the side of his sunglasses. "Any theories about this one, Farona? You are a smart girl, after all."

She tilted her head slightly, studying his face in the light of the moon. "Well, you must have had something to hide. I thought maybe it was an injury or maybe the light was problematic to your eyes, or--" She cut off on a sharp gasp. During her vocal musing, he had reached up and removed the sunglasses. And he made no attempt to hide the scar that marred the area around his right eye.

However, even that was less shocking than the other thing he revealed with that simple gesture: His eyes were a deep, blood red. And there was something very eerie about his face as a whole that she couldn't put her finger on.

Yune smiled, stifling a throaty chuckle. "No surprise now, is it?"

That was definitely creepy, she decided. And part of her wished he would just put the sunglasses right back on. He looked far less intimidating that way.

"Tsk, tsk. Are you judging me, Farona? You of all people, I thought, would be able to understand..."

Understand. Understanding. That's what she wanted more than anything. And she felt a pang of guilt. So what if his eyes were a strange color and the pupils were slit? And the scar really didn't marr his features in any grotesque way. Who was she to judge when she was far more monstrous than he ever would be? She had their very blood running through her veins.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I was just surprised---And I--"

"I might believe that," he spoke as he took a sweeping step nearer to her. "If you could actually look at me when you say it."

She visibly flinched, and hesitantly raised her head to meet his eyes. The smile was still there. But it seemed... strained?

"Don't worry, I understand," he assured her softly. "After all, I can't expect you to like what you learn about me. I even admitted to trying to get your friend killed. I make no claims to be some sort of perfect and altruistic high priest of the clergy." She merely gave a stiff nod.

"It was a lie that brought me this far, Farona," he stated almost casually. "Just like you, I lied to everyone to get where I am. Many wondered about the sunglasses - how could they not? And all I did was tell them one thing that solved everything."

Farona was beside herself with his revelations. Yune knew the pain of having to hide something that could ruin your life. Maybe he really did understand more than she ever could have imagined. She blinked curiously back at him. "...What did you tell them?"

He raised his hands up and looked to the ceiling, as though talking to someone else situated up there. "I told them that the Gods do not need to see my eyes. They wouldn't want their devout worshipers to question those that wished to follow them on something so trivial. They know our pasts and our futures. One cannot hide from the Gods."

She stared at him, awestruck. It really sounded like something that one from the church would say and believe in. The knight opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her by simply raising his hand.

"But there's more to the lie than that," he supplied with an almost wicked grin. She swallowed and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Really, that expression is unbecoming of you. There are no more murder attempts upon your friends involved in this explanation. I promise."

The smile he flashed her then looked genuine, but with everything she had heard about this man in the past few minutes, Farona couldn't be sure. Nonetheless, she gave a short, hesitant nod.

"I'll let you in on another well-kept secret, Farona. I don't believe in these 'Gods' at all." Her mouth fell open, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. "I desired to become a high priest for their powers and skills, not for their silly beliefs. And I wanted it badly enough that I was willing to put on an act. One that fooled everyone. And it worked flawlessly."

In that moment, he looked very proud of his achievement---his achievement of deceiving the entirety of the Prontera Church, and probably every single person that he ever met.

As quickly as the warmth of understanding flooded through, a cold blizzard blew in and froze her insides solid. "You don't really... you mean you never---all this time, you never cared about helping others or saving lives?"

She didn't want it to be true. He always seemed so happy, so cheerful---so helpful to everyone! He teased, he loved to joke, he was optimistic and... how could it be true? Was he really capable of wearing a mask that thick?

"Ah, but there we hit an important snag, my dear." She frowned at the name, but made no move to interrupt him. "You are correct in assuming that it usually meant little to me. I had bigger plans in mind. But like anything that is labeled 'absolute', there is always an exception..."

A dribble of hope seeped into her eyes. "So there was a time when you really were...?"

"Yes. There was a single exception. And she's standing right here in this very room."