#that's fine. i still like the soft costume version so i might keep that in my personal headcanons. he just looks so wascally

[starlit-mansion]

so like...... i'm not up on the pizzaplex deep lore, people are calling glitchtrap/malhare/what the fuck ever digitized murder bunny "the mimic" now, yeah? i gotta be honest, i really like the clip from the ruin trailer because i really liked drawing my digital/hallucinatory version of him as a purple and green outline on black, if/when i mess around more with that, i might try to go for the degraded glitchy outline

[aminiatureworld]

Spotlight

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,707

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Modern AU in which the reader’s s/o is famous.

Author’s Note: My first crack at a modern AU and I enjoyed it immensely! My personal media of choice definitely came through in this prompt. I would now kill for Albedo to read Shakespeare. Also streamer Kazuha is an inspired idea, thank you anon for that! Not to mention musician Xiao, truly chef’s kiss.

Albedo

Albedo was a stage actor, both by education and by trade. Starting in high school he began in local productions, before entering into the Mondstadt Theateracademie. After appearing as Estragon in a filmed version of Waiting for Godot, he began to be scouted for various television miniseries, eventually becoming a well-respected film actor.

You arrived somewhere in the middle of his career. Working as a costume assistant at the Academie you had quickly fallen for the inquisitive and deceptively intense soul that exuded every color of emotion onstage, from raging anger to soft sorrow, before stepping into the wings and resuming an aura of utter calm. He had captivated you, both as an actor and as a human being; and when you learned that he had also become slightly infatuated with you, well, it was hard not to feel like you had stepped into a wonderful play, or perhaps simply a wonderful play had been brought to life.

The switch from theatre to screen was certainly a jarring one for both of you. When the first film contract was offered Albedo had stared at it for a long time, rereading it over and over again as the coffee in front of him quickly turned cold.

“Is there something wrong with the contract?” You had asked.

“No, it’s not that. It’s only…”

“Only?”

“Only on stage there is a single audience. You can feel their reactions, can measure their response. There is nothing nebulous about the people around you. But on film you cannot do that. You cannot adjust for time of day, or whether it’s a weekend or a Friday performance. You must let your lines out and hope that they land without even being able to calculate it.”

“It’s not a science experiment my darling,” you had teased.

“Maybe not,” Albedo admitted. Still he continued to read and reread, and it was only until the next afternoon that he had told you his answer.

Still, you had to admit that he made a fantastic actor. The naturally inward part of your partner’s personality, the part that always seemed to jump out the moment he left the stage, worked well to balance with the camera’s need for subtlety, unlike the projection required for stage plays. It was little surprise then that he should grow so popular. Despite all the worries about measuring audience response, there was no doubting the success of Albedo’s acting career.

Being a naturally withdrawn person Albedo mostly stayed off of social media. He had one private Instagram for friends – he didn’t post anything; one private Facebook for family – the only picture was one of you two in the mountains next to a particularly weird looking rock; and WhatsApp – which could barely be counted. Thus when he started blowing up on Twitter – a platform you had a mostly unused account on – the reaction was mostly one of “why are they talking about me?”

Not that Albedo minded fan enthusiasm, indeed when people started showing up in droves at the stage door for him he was always careful to thank everyone collectively and talk to as many people as possible, it just sort of confused him that so many people should take a vested interest in the actor and not just the character.

“It’s because they want to show you how wonderful they think your performances are,” you’d explained.

“I don’t have Twitter,” Albedo deadpanned.

Despite his protests though you sometimes caught him scrolling on your account, face slightly red at all the positive attention. His habit of internal self-deprecation had never truly gone away. That fact became slightly unfortunate in the face of hate comments. It was hard for Albedo not to take things personally. If someone said his acting was shit then you would catch Albedo reading the same line over and over again, as if to achieve mathematical perfection. It was a difficult urge to fight, and you were always careful to give Albedo plenty of reassurance when these things popped up, as well as surreptitiously blocking the trolls that wandered their way onto your dash.

This habit to take things at face value did not apply when you entered the mix. As far as Albedo was concerned you were his partner and no amount of complaining online would make him second guess that or second guess your worth. Even if you thought that you had a better hold on social media assholerly than he did Albedo would still make sure that for every hate comment that floated your way there were at least three compliments on his part. Mentioning you off-handedly in press interviews, saying that he had to go home to his partner, leaving small sketches on post-it notes scattered throughout your apartment, there were no lengths that Albedo wouldn’t go to assure you. And, if you had to admit, these things truly did make you feel better on the days when the small part of your brain said that this wasn’t mindless social media harassment.

Being an actor Albedo had an incredibly fine-tuned sense of the way that people responded to emotions, as if he were performing some grand sort of scientific experiment to see how many people he could sway with his gift. As of such he was always careful that, regardless of his success, things between you were never upturned. You were with him before he was really famous, and you would be there during and after. Albedo loved you deeply; though he often said that he hated romance plays for how sappy they were in his mind your relationship was the one, glowing exception – regardless of the other happy couples in the world. Though it was slightly idealistic, it was the kind of intensity that comprised Albedo’s personality, was the thing that had garnered him so much success.

Albedo loved you deeply, and no amount of surprise movie contracts would change that.

 Kazuha

You had to admit that when you had met Kazuha you had no idea about his double life as a streamer. He was merely one of the many singers that came and went to the recording studios, all people eager to unleash their talent on the world. But unlike the rest of them, Kazuha could make you laugh.

Perhaps then it was unsurprising that Kazuha should be a popular streamer. Though his often florid talking style might seem on paper like it would be too grating for streaming, in reality his soft cadence combined with a dry sense of humor made him wildly popular. He rarely lost his temper, making him palatable to those who wanted to have a fun time without blowing their ears out, and when he did lose it his hyper-specific, often nonsensical insults were the stuff of memes. No, in retrospect it was not all that surprising that Kazuha was a beloved streamer.

At heart though, Kazuha had told you over coffee, the enthusiastic and earnest internet sensation was a poet.

“When you’ve had a life as dissonant as mine, how can you not be?” He’d joked. And indeed perhaps he was right, for Kazuha was as wonderful a poet as you had ever read. He was born to be a writer, you had told him.

You were also an aspiring singer, as well as a friend of the studio owner where you did your recordings. As such you had made it a habit to help around the studio when you weren’t also working or studying. As you and Kazuha were both students with intense side jobs, the good natured complaining of overworked students also made their way into you rapport, a friendship that grew day-by-day. Eventually it sprouted into love.

Though you knew that Kazuha was a streamer when your relationship started, in reality you hadn’t realized how truly popular he had become. The first time you watched one of his streams you were blown away by his popularity. Watching your first livestream only cemented that. It was hard to believe that your down-to-earth, slightly self-effacing, partner could have garnered such a large fanbase. Not that you didn’t think he deserved it. He absolutely did. However after seeing that you admitted you were a bit awestruck.

“Why? Am I not the same person on screen and off?”

“Of course you are! It’s just, well, my partner’s a celebrity!”

“I would go that far,” Kazuha laughed.

“Well you certainly are to me!”

Nevertheless your dynamic didn’t change much afterwards, besides the occasional teasing on both of your parts. Kazuha was after all Kazuha at the end of the day.

At the beginning Kazuha didn’t mention you much on stream, certainly not by name, you had to admit you were a bit intimidated by the idea of being recognizable on the internet, even if it was just by name.

“This is also my partner’s favorite map.” Had been his first mention, during a game of Mario Kart.

Despite this offhanded remark however the chat had almost immediately exploded, followed by the rest of the fanbase. Though there was, of course, some disappointed buzz – isn’t there always – the reaction was immensely positive. Positive, and curious.

After a while Kazuha started mentioning you more often in streams, especially after the two fo you moved in. Sometimes you would hear him as you passed him room – Kazuha liked to keep the door open – other times you would watch it on stream yourself.

“My partner hates this character. Too bad you can’t throw evidence.”

“Nobody tell my partner that I’m afraid of basements. I don’t need them to know that when laundry day rolls around.”

“Hey if you’re watching this dear, I promise that it’s not that much money. You don’t need to look at the bank account. Who am I kidding, this is why we don’t share one.”

“Hey, darling I know you’re watching this. Can you check and make sure I left my keys on the coffee table, they aren’t on my desk. Also can you make tea?”

Despite fans knowing very little about you, you were surprised by the amount of positive comments that flooded the streams. You had to admit that your initial expectations had been “people are going to find me annoying”. Instead funny comics of your voice drifting in from the other room popped up, along with a lot of waving and “tell your partner not to trust you with the keys” after Kazuha fell off a cliff one too many times. It was an odd experience, to be so happy about the comments of faceless people, people to whom you were also faceless.

Eventually Kazuha’s hardwork in singing paid off and his first single was recorded and given a deal. On the evening of the release livestream Kazuha set up in the living room, angling the camera so that you could sit on the chair just out of frame. You had talked about the release for months now, and a few weeks ago Kazuha had brought up the idea of a pseudo-stream reveal.

“I was wondering if you’d like to say hello to the audience or wave when my song is released. I understand that you’re hesitant about those sort of things, and I would never ask of you something that would make you uncomfortable. This relationship is the most precious thing to me, and I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or exploited in any ways.”

“Thank you for being so considerate Kazuha. I’ll think about it.”

Now you sat in the chair, fidgeting slightly, waiting as the countdown on his laptop reached one. You excitement certainly seemed matched by that of the fans, who were typing wildly in the chat.

Eventually the screen faded to black and the chatting quieted down. The first few notes of a wooden flute emerged, combined with the strumming of a guitar. As the familiar words began to echo through the laptop speaker you found yourself washed away. Kazuha was always enthralling when he sang. At the end of the song was a dedication, and though Kazuha had already alluded to it, the sincerity still took your breath away.

To my dearest partner. My compass and my guiding star throughout this realization of my dream. You are my sun and my stars, and I’m forever devoted to you. Thank you for sharing in this project, and thank you for giving me such love.

Perhaps it was slightly saccharine. Regardless you felt the sudden, uninhibited urge to cry.

“So, what did everyone think?” Kazuha asked into the mic, face reappearing on screen. He was slightly giddy, and you watched as his hand tugged on the fabric of his linen belt.

Immediately the chat exploded, as waves of “that was amazing”, “I’m crying now”, and “the end was so sweet!” flooded the screen.

“Thank you all for the encouragement!” Kazuha let out a laugh, one that you could tell was one of utter euphoria, and no little relief. “There’s someone else I think who would like to thank you.”

Who knew that a small sentence could cause such a splash?

You barely had time to let out a tentative “Hello,” before an immediate wave of excited screaming covered the bottom left of Kazuha’s stream. “Thank you for supporting Kazuha’s song. And thank you for always being nice to me.” With a tentative wave of the hand you collapsed back on your chair, slightly hysterical laughter rising inside you out of the relief that flooded through you upon seeing the enthused fan reaction.

Afterwards your voice became the occasional guest on Kazuha’s streams, always greeted with enthusiasm. Kazuha continued to grow in popularity, and his music continued to capture a larger and larger audience.

All throughout this you never felt a snag in your relationship. Kazuha may have been a big streaming personality, but he was also a kind and considerate partner, the best that one could ask for in a significant other. Kazuha’s love was never in question. And neither was yours.

 Xiao

Sometimes you were a little self-conscious about the way that you met Xiao.

Though Xiao had definitely grown a following by the time you met – being the main pianist for a popular singer and a classical pseudo-prodigy in both piano and flute his own right certainly had roped him an enthusiastic fanbase – you had simply known him as “the guy who hogs the practice room”.

“I swear to the gods, how long can that bastard take to practice!” You texted angrily at your friend one day. Qixing Conservatory was the premiere music place in Liyue, but what should’ve been an amazing opportunity was being overshadowed by a practice room partner who appeared to not have a life, one who also had the obnoxious habit of playing the same damn thing over, and over, and over again.

“Playing the same piece as before?”

“Yes! Ugh I don’t even know what it’s called but I’ve heard it enough times to last a lifetime, maybe five!”

“Damn I’m sorry, what time does he usually end?”

“I don’t even know. Some time in the early evening. It’s obviously never gotten through to his brain that other people also need to practice. Or that hearing the same notes over and over while waiting makes me want to chuck my binder against a wall.”

“Lol. I kinda want to hear it now. Can you send a video, will the sound pick up?”

“I don’t know how it wouldn’t.”

“…”

“Holy shit! Okay, I need you to watch this video and tell me if you recognize the pianist.”

Safe to say you nearly fell out of your chair upon figuring out Xiao’s identity. Not that you weren’t already about to out of pure exasperation. Still, there was something much more intimidating about shaming a successful musician, and you no longer had the urge to glare at Xiao every time he left the practice room. Honestly, you would have been perfectly happy keeping your head down and never interacting with him at all.

Fate, however, has a sense of humor.

To be fair, some of it was your fault. You knew that Erlkonig was a massively difficult piece. You knew that you should’ve picked something else, knew that even Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata mvt. Three had to be less painful than the non-vocal arrangement you’d placed in front of your eyes. You were never trusting your music taste with your piece choices again. This was a terrible mistake.

“These stupid fucking running notes!” You let out, a groan of exasperation racing through you. Half slamming (you weren’t crazy) the piano cover down you swung the door of the practice room open. You didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Trying to ignore the embarrassment that rose up seeing Xiao waiting on a chair next to the door you went to walk down the hallway.

“You should work on it with a dotted sixteenth note pattern.”

It was the first time that Xiao had ever spoken to you.

Afterwards a rapport slowly grew between the two of you. Often Xiao said nothing as you passed, rarely you made a gesture of recognition when he finally reappeared from the practice room. However soon the occasional word or phrase of advice grew into longer sentences, later these sentences evolved into pieces of conversation. Soon enough you discovered, to your slight horror, that you found yourself yearning for Xiao’s company.

Almost as soon as you’d finally figured out your feelings you were hit with a wave of denial. You weren’t falling for Xiao? How could you fall for someone who got on your nerves so much? Sure he gave you advice, but what about it? You deserved it after having to hear him over and over again while waiting. Certainly Xiao didn’t seem interested in you, he barely talked to you! Yeah he was getting more talkative, but it’s easier to talk to people when you’re giving them advice. There’s no way you were in love with Xiao. And there was no way he was in love with you.

To say that Xiao’s career as a musician, never mind his genuine technical talent at two instruments, was a barrier would be an understatement. The moment you thought you were making some progress, finally admitting to yourself that this crush was, in fact, real, a wave of anxiety would pass over you. Xiao was too good for you, he was too important. Here was a man who had a successful musical career already up in the air while you banged frustratedly on the keys. Why would someone that successful be interested in you? Not to mention the fact that he didn’t seem interested.

Because, you had to admit, you did like Xiao’s music. Not just his classical repertoire, but his pop music as well. It was slightly jazzy, mellow and playful and utterly unlike the scowling musician behind it – something you secretly thought extremely cute and surprisingly charming. To him you were just a practice roommate, and you were sure he’d find the idea of dating someone who was more familiar with his public persona irritating.

So you buried your feelings, or tried to. Unfortunately like sometimes attracts like, and just as Xiao secretly had the emotional understanding of a teaspoon, you weren’t nearly as clever about things as you would like.

“Is there something on my face?” Xiao asked, his voice gruff and slightly reluctant.

“No, why would there be?”

“Because you’re staring at it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You let your head drop, looking intently at the ivories in front of you. Eventually there was a sigh.

“You don’t have to do that. I… I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! You staring down is weird too. Let’s, let’s just hurry up and do this passage.”

After that you became more aware of your staring habit. You also became more aware of Xiao’s own habit, leaning towards you. Sometimes you swore that you could feel the tips of his hair tickling your neck, light and feathery and stealing all your attention.

“Hey, Xiao, do you need glasses?”

“Why would you asked that!” Xiao flared up, face reddening. By this time you’d become more accustomed to these flareups of grumpiness, and ignoring it you pressed on.

“It’s just, you seem to be leaning forward.”

“I’m not!” Immediately Xiao shifted back, almost stepping away. Without thinking about it you reached to grab his hand.

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing!” You got out, before becoming aware of your hand grasping Xiao’s. The touch felt electric, and you were suddenly so very aware of everything, yet unable to focus at all.

“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Xiao grumbled.

Slowly the musician leaned closer to you once more. You had already half stood up and now you found yourself stepping closer to Xiao. The world continued to shrink until you were almost pressed together. Xiao was leaning forward, as were you, and the longer tufts of his hair were tickling your cheek, helped by the fan whirring away in the corner. Your hand was still in his, but all your thoughts appeared to have died away.

“Xiao?”

“Is this, too close?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Xiao?”

“What?”

“I like your music. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Why would it?”

“I don’t know. I just, I also like you, not just your music. But I also like your music.”

“I also like yours too.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic of confessions, but at that point you were far too carried away by the moment, or maybe by the fact that was the most sentences Xiao had strung together that weren’t about triplets. Regardless of the fact, you were suddenly seized by incredible happiness, as all appeared to right itself.

Afterwards initially little changed, Xiao was a gruff as ever, you were still itching to play in the practice room more. Nevertheless when you went to a concert of his for the first time and he let out a small, almost imperceptible, smile your way you knew things had changed. They would keep changing perhaps, or maybe they wouldn’t. After all, this moment was beautiful.

So much that you didn’t even mind the hours spent waiting for the practice room.

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 3 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first two chapters please~)

The next day flows by in a blur for Geralt. He wakes up, takes a shower, prepares a quick but nutritious breakfast for Ciri, and makes oatmeal for himself.

On his way to the hospital, he thinks about Jaskier and wonders if he should call him now. He almost does that, but then he decides against it because he knows that Jaskier is busy having his fourth dream right now probably. It's too early to call him as much as he wants to do so. 

His mind wanders on how cute Jaskier sounds when he is sleepy—when he has just woken up.

Cute, but also usually a bit grumpy even though he denies it with every inch of his being.

***

"That shouldn't be legal," is what Geralt thinks when he steps into the hospital room, unable to take his eyes off Jaskier's sleeping figure. "I can't believe I'm supposed to do that. God, have some mercy on me. I love my job, I really do, but it sucks big time sometimes. Why should I suffer this way?"

A moment later, he is well aware of how dramatic he is being, and how hard he frowns, making a source face. It's not like him to act like this at all.

Damn.

"That dramatic son of a flower must be rubbing off on me," annoyed at himself, he mumbles before he coughs as if that alone is enough to wake the musician up. 

"Good morning," he tries when Jaskier doesn't wake up and slightly turns to the other side of his bed instead.

"Mr. Pankratz, it's your medicine time."

Jaskier slightly opens his eyes just to look at him this time, and the first thing he mumbles is: "What happened to your ears?" before closing his eyes again. 

"What are you talking about?" The nurse questions, checking his ears with his free hand that isn't holding the medicine tray, wondering what he meant by that.

"Are you still asleep?"

"Yes... No. Maybe?" Jaskier mumbles again, half asleep as he rubs his eyes, trying to make sleepiness go away.

"You will have to pick one of them."

The musician opens his eyes after a while and smiles at Geralt.

"Morning. God, what a sight to wake up to."

Geralt must be used at this by now. Because whenever Geralt has to wake him up, no matter how much Jaskier complains at first most of the time, he always utters the same words eventually.

"What a sight to wake up to."

Yet, every time he does that, Geralt's heart flutters in his chest.

"You didn't sound too happy with my ears, though. What was that about?"

"Ah, about that. I had a dream that— promise you won't laugh?"

"Can't do."

"Anyway," Jaskier yawns and explains: "I had a dream that you were an... elf."

"I was a— what?" Geralt laughs.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't laugh!" The musician stares at him like he is ready to kill him. 

"I never said that," Geralt forces himself to stop laughing. "Well, that explains everything."

"Shh, stop interrupting me. It's mean."

"Sorry, I'm all ears. Not elf ears, though, sorry to disappoint you."

"Don't sweat it. Bad guys were trying to steal Mrs. Ansley's—who was a fairy, speaking of which—cookie recipe, which was also the key of a parallel universe, somehow. You were trying to protect the recipe, then puff. Some gingerbread men came out of nowhere to help you, but you tried to... eat them? Well, not just tried actually. You managed to eat their leader. Therefore they decided to join the dark side. Can't blame you, though. They looked pretty yummy. I was about to hop on my unicorn for help when you woke me up. A unicorn wearing a pasta costume. Pink pasta costume. Yeah, yeah, I know, that makes no sense, is there even a pink pasta costume?" He asks sleepily, raising an eyebrow. "Also, I had a magical lute, I think."

"You think that your whole dream makes sense, but just the pink pasta costume doesn't?"

"I've never seen a pink pasta costume, so..."

"Oh, sorry, right. I forgot you have seen everything else but that. The elf version of me, alive gingerbreads and all. My bad."

He chuckles at that lightly.

"Still more possible than a pink pasta costume."

"The most ridiculous dream you had this week might be this one so far."

Jaskier seemed to have taken it upon himself to tell Geralt about his dreams. This was the eighth dream he talked about this week, and it wasn't even Friday yet.

"It was like," he opens his arms wide as if he is presenting the name of his new song to the whole world, " 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland' I blame the medicines. And you," he points at the nurse. "I also blame you. For looking like... " he then gestures at everything, "this."

"You blame me?" The other man snorts, amused. "If anything, you should blame yourself for having the wrong dream. Have you ever looked at yourself? You would make a good elf, not me. You are as bea— I mean, anyway, medicine time."

"I am what now? Wait, wait, wait, were you about to call me beautiful?"

"I was about to call you bearable, but then I thought that would be mean."

"I think you were about to call me beautiful, but then you thought 'That wouldn't be professional, you are his nurse,' or something along these lines. Also, that's not even how you start when you're about to say 'bearable' they are not even pronounced the— "

"That's not what happened."

"Nahh, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what happened, but eh, whatever helps you sleep at night, love."

"You're probably thinking you're still in 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland', go back to sleep, you're delusional."

"I am so not! And that would be your problem even if I was. Wanna check my fever?" He says, giving the nurse a once-over, "I feel hot, suddenly."

"Well, that explains why you're delusional, doesn't it?" Geralt teases. "Take your medicine and you will be just fine."

Jaskier sighs and does as he is told.

"Geralt," Jaskier says before Geralt is about to leave, a grin on his face "I think you are 'bearable', too. "

***

Geralt means to call Jaskier.

He really does.

Yet, whenever he is about to call him, something comes up, and eventually, he just accepts that he is going to have to wait for his shift to be over. 

For some reason, he doesn't want to call him and get interrupted after a minute.

And he doesn't want to send him a text, because he prefers hearing his angelic voice instead.

So, yeah. He is kind of stuck there for now.

***

Geralt finds Ciri laughing at her own joke as she watches The Office when he gets home, and this reminds him of Jaskier since that's something they both have in common. Once again, he finds himself thinking about the musician.

***

“Shit, it hurts,” Jaskier says, holding his chest.

“Maybe it’s the universe’s way to tell you to stop laughing at your own jokes.”

“Oh shut up, the universe can kiss my ass.”

“Seems like it prefers to kick your ass instead.”

That draws an annoyed laugh out of him, which makes him hiss in pain.

“It wouldn’t send me here if it was trying to kick my ass, Mr. Should Have Been A Model But Became A Nurse For Some Reason.”

“I can't believe you still keep using that silly nickname unironically. Don’t you think that it is a bit long?”

“You may be right. Hmm, I’ll just call you ‘Mr. Handsome Nurse,’ from now on.”

“Please don’t. No.”

“How about just ‘Handsome’ ?”

“Still no.”

“Why not? It’s just a fact. You wouldn’t get mad at someone if they would point at a yellow wall and call it a ‘yellow wall’ would you?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I see no differences.”

“Then you better get your eyes checked.” 

“Speaking of which—” Jaskier reaches for his scratch book standing on the bedside table “can I borrow your eyes for a second?”

Geralt frowns, wondering what the musician is up to this time.

Jaskier opens his scratch book and stares in his eyes intently for a while and as he scribbles something. "Thanks," he says, "I just needed an accurate model of the stars."

"You know," the nurse shakes his head and answers smoothly: "you could just ask for a mirror."

Geralt can't help but smirk at his open-mouthed speechlessness. 

***

He hears a familiar voice singing, and for a moment he is sure that he has finally gone insane. 

Drying his hands on a washcloth, Geralt makes his way to the source of the voice, thinking "That must how Jerry feels when he follows the smell of a piece of cheese Tom tries to fool him with."

Jaskier's voice is irresistible to him, just like how cheese is irresistible to Jerry.

Absolutely irresistible, and hard to miss.

He could distinguish Jaskier's voice among all the rest if he heard it in a room filled with millions of men singing a song together.

This voice is coming from their living room. To be more specific, from Ciri's laptop—which she was supposed to use for searching her homework topic, but that can wait for now—

"Or I shall die," he hears Jaskier singing oh so sincerely and dramatically "or I shall die!"

"Dad! Please don't be mad, I swear to God I was going to start doing my homework, but—"

The first thing he does when he sits on the couch next to his daughter is grabbing the laptop and rewinding the video to the start. He then checks if the volume is at maximum.

"Shhh," he gestures, all of his attention is on the video he is watching.

He doesn't even realize that he takes a deep breath as soon as he sees the musician's face appear in front of him on the screen before Jaskier even starts singing.

He is as beautiful as ever in his ridiculous mint green shirt that he left the first four buttons undone.

It has cactus patterns on it.

Geralt can't help but wonder if Jaskier wearing this shirt is actually some kind of a secret message to him and him only.

Didn't he say that Geralt was just like a cactus?

"...prickly on the outside sometimes, but soft on the inside? A cactus in the desert.”

His words. Not Geralt's.

What does that even mean then? Something like "I wanna wear you on me like a shirt?"

Okay, he should probably stop because he is reading too much into this and—

"Anyway, so, this song goes to the cruel man who made me want to buy this shirt because it reminded me of him. You know who you are,"

Geralt's breath hitches.

He is not reading too much into this.

If anything, it's vice versa, because Jaskier dedicated a song to him.

Jaskier is thinking about him, too.

Thinking about him too much that he has decided he should dedicate a song to him.

The scene splits into five and one of the boxes on the screen shows Jaskier playing the piano, while in the other he plays the lute occasionally, violin in another one, and accordion in the other one. And in the other, he sings.

Good God. Is there anything this man cannot do?—Besides picking names for babies maybe, since picking names is definitely isn't his strong suit.—

"I tell myself what's done is done

I tell myself don't be a fool

Play the field have a lot of fun

It's easy when you play it cool"

"Does this mean he gave up on me because he got fed up with waiting for my call?" he thinks. But then again, why would he sing a song for him if he gave up?

While watching the video, Geralt is well aware of the fact that he will watch this video again and again and will take special care of each Jaskier— making sure not to miss even the tiniest of the mimic and gesture he does.

"I tell myself don't be a chump

Who cares, let him stay away

That's when the phone rings and I jump

And as I grab the phone I pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him or I shall die

Or I shall die"

He was right, this isn't a song that screams: "I'm giving up." Thank God it isn't. Jaskier puts his hand on his chest as he sings, and Ciri sighs next to Geralt, resting her head on his shoulder as she watches the video with him. 

"Oh hello, hello my dear God

It must be him but it's not him

And then I die

That's when I die"

That dramatic son of a flower actually flings himself into an armchair.

"After a while, I'm myself again

I take the pieces off the floor

Put my heart on the shelf again

You'll never hurt me anymore"

While he sings the "put my heart on the shelf again" he puts a heart sculpture on his bookshelf with a serious look and frown on his face. He might have got this heart sculpture just for this video for all Geralt knows.

"I'm not a puppet on a string,"

At this point, Geralt wouldn't be surprised to see actual strings attached to the musician's body just so he could cut the strings. He really wouldn’t be surprised, at all.

Because Jaskier is that extra most of the time.

And Geralt loves that about him.

"I'll find somebody else someday

That's when the phone rings, and once again

I start to pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him, it must be him

or I shall die, or I shall die"

The musician's voice goes up effortlessly into an unreachable octave as he sings the last part, and it's impossible not to be impressed. 

But then again, the man puts his heart into everything he does, therefore even doing something like folding a simple frog origami seems impressive when he is the one who's doing it, let alone singing as perfectly as this.

He then slowly walks towards the camera as the other boxes disappear and that one takes over the screen.

"Seriously though," he makes an aggressive 'call me' gesture, and the scene fades to black after that.

"Whoever keeps Jaskier waiting must be crazy," Ciri comments and gave a snort of disapproval and frustration. "He must care about this idiot of a guy a lot if he sings for him like this. What a jabroni. It would take him only a minute to call him."

"Ciri!"

"What? I'm right."

"That's not a nice thing to say," Geralt warns as he hands the laptop back to his daughter.

"I'm surprised that you watched the full thing, by the way. Actually, you don't seem too annoyed with me watching his videos nowadays, and you seemed quite interested in this one."

"I just love Vikki Carr," Geralt says. He has seen the title of the video, after all, so he knew this was a cover of her song. "I've wondered how he sang this song."

"Name five Vikki Carr songs then."

Geralt doesn't know five Vikki Carr songs— he can't even name two, let alone five.

"Okay, I think that's enough fun for you today," the nurse pretends not to have heard his daughter. "Do your homework while I go out to get some milk."

"We have milk at home."

"No, we don't."

"I put it in the fridge myself just this morning, so yeah, we do."

"We're out of these cookies you love, though."

"I thought you said they consumed way too much sugar so we were going to come up with a healthy and as I've read from your invisible subtitles, also probably boring recipe we can make together this weekend?"

"I— God, you ask a lot of questions today." Geralt whispers tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting Ciri's "boring recipe" comment slide.

Fuck him for not saying "I'm gonna go get some groceries," instead.

"I just asked one question, but okay. So? You changed your mind?"

"Yeah, I changed my mind, just for one more week, you can have it."

"Really?! Thanks!"

"Anything you want, pumpkin. Alright, I'm off!"

Geralt ruffles her hair before he grabs his wallet, keys, and most importantly, his phone.

Just before he closes the door, he can hear Jaskier's voice coming from the living room once again.

He cannot blame Ciri at all.

***

"If this is another spam call and not the important call I've been waiting for I swear on all my lute strings that I'll crush that damn phone on the ground and dance upon its bloody ruins! Actually, no, wait, that would mean the possibility of missing the call I've been waiting for, but you got my point."

As soon as Jaskier answers his call and starts talking, he feels like all the tiredness of the day disappears. Jaskier's voice manages to do that even when he is simply busy telling him off, having no idea who he is talking to. 

He can see that Ciri was right. He is an idiot for waiting for the right time.

"I'm seriously so sick of—"

Geralt finally cuts him off by saying: "Wow, I wouldn't wanna be a scammer or something right now, you aggressive Dandelion."

"Wait a second, this voice— Geralt?! Is that really you? Oh my God, you finally ca— I mean—"

Jaskier coughs as if he tries not to sound too excited, "Heey, the best nurse in the existence," Geralt can almost see his flirty frowning, yes, he manages to make even frowning look flirty for crying out loud, "How's it hanging?" he asks, his voice sounds deep, lazy, and dare he say, sensual.

"I should be asking you the same question. Are you still praying by the phone?"

"Someone does stalk me on social media, I see."

"And someone sings a song and makes a pretty impressive video clip for me, I see. My daughter was watching it, and that's how I found out about it. Just for your information."

"So you're not the one who stalks me online. It's Ciri," Jaskier says, and the fact that he remembers Ciri's name warms up Geralt's heart if he's being honest. "Sweet. Cool. Cool. I'm not hurt by that at all."

"Well..."

"Would you die if you let me be happy for just a moment? Not that I'm not happy to know that your daughter still watches my videos, but it would be nice to hear that you were the one who checked my account willingly."

"I'm sure I would see your video today anyway. Maybe it wouldn't be that soon, I admit, but I would see it."

"Is that so?"

"It is so."

Silence.

But it isn't an uncomfortable one.

"Did you really find it impressive?" Jaskier asks, his voice is full of hope and happiness.

"Well—" 

"Nah, I know it's impressive, forget that I asked," he lets out a long sigh, "If I knew making a video clip for you would make you call me right away, I would do that earlier. Were you playing 'hard to get' or something? You know... I find it kinda cruel to make someone who just got out of the hospital keep waiting on the phone for so long. For your information, that 'kinda' is kinda unnecessary here maybe. I call it 'the polite kinda'. Or 'the unnecessary kinda'. " 

The next moment, Jaskier's playful tone leaves its place to a caring, worried one as he keeps talking: "If something is going wrong with your life, I take it back though. Ignore everything I said in that case. Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"Ah, about that— Don't worry, everything is alright," Geralt replies, "I was thinking about calling you today, but I couldn't quite find the time. I know that's not an excuse, and I know I could call you earlier, but I didn't want to call you only to say 'I have to hang up,' a minute later."

"I’m happy to hear that nothing is wrong. And well, even that would be better than leaving me hanging. Or a simple 'Hey, the best patient ever' text would do. You took so long that I would be lying if I said I didn't think about getting involved in another accident."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I would get into millions of accidents just to see you, Geralt. Provided that I could have you as my nurse every time, of course. What's the point otherwise? I'm not a masochist."

"Such a flatterer you are, Mr. Pan—"

"I'm not trying to flatter you. Cross my heart and hope do die, I'm just scattering the facts around like they are glitters. Or cake sprinkles."

"God forbid! Accidents, death... Aren't we gonna talk about nice things at all?"

"I've been waiting for you to call me forever. I have every right to be bitter about it."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. How about I start making up to you, starting now?" 

"Sounds like you have something in your mind, Mr. Handsome Nurse." 

"I do, indeed. Have you had dinner yet?" 

"Does strawberry yogurt count as dinner?"

"I highly doubt it. You were complaining about hospital food, and yet that's what you choose to have for dinner?"

"I've never said I count yogurt as quality dinner, but it's still better than the things you dare to serve people as 'food', I should admit, I thought you already came to terms with—"

"Maybe you should come over so I can show you how a proper, nice dinner looks like. I'm not half bad at cooking."

Jaskier is silent on the other end of the line.

"Are you still there?" Geralt asks finally, "I'm sorry if this was too forward of me or too soon, I just thought it could be nice. You could meet Ciri too, that way." 

"No! Yeah! I mean—" if Geralt didn't imagine it, Jaskier sighs and murmurs an angry 'get it together you dumbass,' to himself before he continues talking. "Yes, I'm still here. No, this wasn't too forward of you. I was just taken aback a little bit, sorry. I mean, not every day a handsome nurse who I've been waiting for his call for a decade calls and invites me over for dinner. I'd love that, Geralt."

"I'll send you the address, then." Geralt checks his watch, it's nearly 6 p.m. "Is eight okay for you?"

"Sure, that should be fine. Hey, Ciri still doesn't know, right?"

"I don't think I need to answer that."

"Huh? Why is that?"

"Don't you think she would just grab my phone and call you herself if she knew? Or reaching out to you on every social media possible? Shouting from the rooftops, even?"

"She really likes me that much?"

"She just called me, I quote, an 'idiot', 'crazy', and 'jabroni' after watching your video, so..."

"She did what?!"

"I mean, not directly at me since she doesn't know I'm the 'him' in the 'it must be him', but still." 

"Seems to me like you're in big trouble here."

"Don't even remind me about it."

"I'd be lying if I said that doesn't put some pressure on me though. I mean... What if she doesn't like me?"

"Wha— Ciri already adores you. She adores you so much that it's annoying sometimes."

"It's impossible not to like you," is on the tip of his langue.

"They say never meet your heroes. What if when she actually meets me, she goes 'Meh, that's it?' What if I disappoint her somehow?"

"Worrying about earth getting invaded by the aliens in pink pasta costumes and tutus would much more sense compared to this. Believe me."

Jaskier laughs at that, but Geralt can still sense that he is not completely convinced.

"If you say so."

"I know so, Jaskier. I know so."

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Trickster: an Ethari theory

I've had yea many Ethari headcanons, and I hope I live to have yea many more. Most of them are probably wrong, or incomplete at best. But boy are they fun.

I love to wonder what Ethari will really be like in canon when we get to know him for more than 3 minutes, but whoever he really is on his own, he will have an effect on Runaan , Rayla, and everyone who loves him, because they love him.

The first headcanon I can remember having for "Tinker" was that he could be like Leonardo da Vinci: a genius, creative, surrounded by beautiful ideas given shape by his hands, but also capable of creating deadly weapons, enchantments, and devices with equal beauty, and perhaps not really seeing where the line between them was. It was fun, but Ethari has ended up far softer than my headcanon, and I love and support him in his softness!

After a nice string of Ethari headcanons, this year I've started poking at the Trickster archetype and seeing if it applies to him. And I think it absolutely does!

Tricksters often seem like Chaos. But they're not. They're just Difference. "Chaos" is subjective. Like the "divergent" in "neurodivergent." Who says? Divergent from what, exactly? Perspective matters, and Tricksters have a very broad take on things which allows them to think outside any box people might try to invite them into.

My enjoyment of Loki has brought all kinds of ideas to my dash with the arrival of the Loki show. I've got a copy of the Edda, and I highlighted the hell out of it a couple of years ago as I searched for the roots of Loki's origin story. (It's truly fascinating reading and the symbolic language hidden inside their poetry is dazzlingly amazing and I'm super using it sometime just so you know)

Loki is a Trickster, and he's far from alone in myth and legend. Anansi, Coyote, and Sun Wukong are some you may have heard of. Aaravos is another, of course. Tricksters can be called upon to lend aid and wisdom when the rules don't have an answer for some extraordinary circumstance which the Trickster's people find themselves in. But that's not because they are truly outside the rule of order. They are actually a part of it. They are the catch-all for when the everyday ordinary rules fail people, and something "unthinkable"--in the literal sense--might just hold the answer.

This post crossed my dash today, and something finally clicked in my head, and all of this coalesced from what felt like separate places. But they're not separate, not anymore! Serotonin, baby. It's basically upped my headcanon to a full-blown theory.

What caught my eye was an answer to why Ethari's clothing is so determinedly asymmetrical, compared to Runaan's specifically, but Moonshadows in general. It's because of this:

Long protective sleeves below patterns on shoulders. A high collar paired with a bright and noticeable swoop around the neck. Fine detailing and graceful taste. Asymmetrical tunic point on the left, below broad strappy leather. Knee high boots with stylish protective gaiters.

And let's not forget the curling horns! In some comics, Loki has a broken horn. So does Ethari.

Yes, there is a lot of similarity here, but I'm not focused so much on the visuals as the reason they were chosen. Feel free to consider other aspects of Ethari's personality and how they might be similar to certain parts of Loki's. I did! But I wouldn't be me if I didn't go deeper than that.

My favorite book in the universe (so far) is Lois McMaster Bujold's The Curse of Chalion, and one of the many reasons why is because of her pantheon. It holds five gods, represented by a hand: Father, Mother, Son, Daughter, and Bastard. The first four all have their roles and places. The Bastard--the thumb--inherits everything else. He is the god of all things that do not belong to any other gods, and that includes self-sacrificing vengeance and queerness. He is a Trickster, and his influence on Cazaril's life is far deeper than at first glance. Chaos has its place. It belongs, and so do the Tricksters who engender it. God, I love this book. Please read it if you haven't. Bujold's work is amazing.

If you've seen or read any version of MDZS/Untamed, you know that Wei WuXian is a trickster. Competent and badass in battle, but playful and teasing to the point where sometimes even he isn't sure what he truly wants, he can bring a massive amount of power and focus when he wants to. It's always a matter of "but is it important to me?"

I love WWX so much. The Trickster vibe is very apparent in his character, and in a way you just don't get in Western media. We see him on his own, and we see him with family and loved ones. And he's always feeling something so intensely! He's driven by his emotions, for good or ill. He vibes with chaos, and he will create it if it doesn't exist yet. But he will also create family from nothing, and that's something you don't see enough of! WWX is a Trickster with an emotional preference for joy.

In TDP, Ethari doesn't have a lot of lore yet. It's being Moonshadowed because spoilers for future seasons, and I respect that. The longer the wait for S4, the more ideas I will just amuse myself with in the meantime--and yeah, this is one of them, so what? :))) But we do know a little about him.

He loves music. He loves to read. He leaves his mark on things in swirly form. He works very hard, even through headaches, because what he's doing is that important to him, even though he would much rather be making jewelry. He loves taking the time to polish rough stones into brilliant jewels, and he adores big pretty flowers and had them at his wedding.

Ethari has a temper, but he also loves puns. The weapons he crafts are exquisite: "light, elegant, strong, and clever." And he knew darn well that Runaan was trying to flirt with him, but why return a sentiment he may or may not feel yet when he can play with the overly earnest assassin just a little bit first?

Okay, just... A "simple craftsman" deciding that it's going to be fun to toy for a bit with a broody assassin's feelings? Would you risk that? Ethari got balls the size of the moon, and a brain to match. When he has to make weaponry, he does not half-ass it. Ethari's stabby creations nearly have a life of their own. His creations are literally called "trick weapons." This elf is a lot, okay. And it's possible that he doesn't even know how "a lot" he is. Yet.

We're meeting Ethari after he's found something that is, in fact, genuinely important to him: Runaan, and Rayla, and Laindrin too. Ethari has found a relatively stable place to settle and find a role to adopt. I say adopt, though, because making weaponry for his loved ones is not what he grew up wanting to do. It's what he had to do to keep them safe, once he found a place to bestow his heart.

But in the show, Ethari has lost his family, one by one. First Lain and Tiadrin, ghosted. Then Runaan, supposedly fallen on his mission. Then Rayla, ghosted for abandoning Runaan. He and Rayla have reconnected now, but the rest of his family is still out of his reach. If Rayla has indeed told him, by S4, what she learned at the Moonhenge in TTM, then Ethari may parallel Rayla's journey to seek answers. But even if he doesn't know yet, and gets pulled into some other story arc first, we will be seeing Ethari without his family.

Remember the ATLA episode "Zuko Alone"? Consider: "Ethari Alone."

Ethari has chosen, for love, to fit himself into a box that wasn't of his own making. And now that box has broken. His family doesn't need him to be their craftsman anymore. Perhaps others will need him to be other things to them. Or perhaps he will know that his family does need him, but to be far more than just a maker of pretty swords. A rescuer, perhaps. A healer, a guide? An avenger?

A trickster. Capable of taking many shapes, because he understands them all. Ethari works with form and function. If he needs to transform himself, he will.

That's what Tricksters do. It's delightfully queer and delightfully neurodivergent. Ancient peoples accepted and revered the different among them and actively sought their help with things they themselves struggled with.

Tricksters are Difference. Sometimes that manifests as chaos, sometimes as genius. But if you do not love and appreciate your chaos, it will absolutely turn on you. Wei Wuxian did. Loki certainly has, many times. Perhaps Aaravos is doing so as well.

I cannot wait to see what Ethari does with his difference. I have something very specific that I hope he goes and breaks.

All this from a picture of Tom Hiddleston in his Avengers 1 Loki costume? Yeah. Because Ethari was designed to wear asymmetrical clothing, in a Moonshadow culture that prides itself on balance. Sure, there are some other Moonshadows who wear this or that asymmetrical item, and I do love to see it. But Ethari has the most asymmetrical lines of them all. The meta glee I feel knowing that Moonshadow elves are designed to hold many layers of meaning in their appearances--that the writers, creators, and character designers just flexed with them--is truly a delight.

Ethari is asymmetrical. The full and practical application of that is a glass casket, and I hope it becomes a gift that keeps on giving, because boy do I want to keep receiving it. But right now, I'm genuinely seeing evidence of the Trickster archetype in him. And I really hope it gets to come out and play.

[masqueradeball]

How about number 3? Like, tell us all about it if you want :)

Oh my gosh 🥺 thank you so much for giving me my first ask! 💖 I'm eternally grateful I get to spill all my pheels out.

3. What is my favorite Phantom tv/film adaptation?

My absolute favorite Phantom is the 1925 Lon Chaney silent film. He just embodies everything that I like about Gaston Leroux's Erik for me and he is both horrifying and pitiable. I dislike the ending but I can live with it given it's what test audiences wanted at the time. I truly love his Red Death costume. You can find it on Youtube and the Tubi app for free.

My first runner up would be Claude Raines in the 1943 because his Erique so soft and tragic in that film I cannot help but love him. This was one was my grandma's favorite 'classic monster' movies that she loved, so I have a special place in my heart for this one. I love his hair and appreciate that he was one fine silver fox before the revenge and jealousy issues set in. The opera parts are a little boring, but the costumes and the sassy diva rival to Christine are worth the watch. We get 2 handsome Raouls who end up going to dinner together at the end of the movie and a Christine who gets to bask in the limelight of her career while not choosing any suitor, which is the best possible outcome for her. Double play for the win in my book! You can watch it for free on the Peacock app.

My next runner up is a 3 way tie between Robert Englund, Gerard Butler, and Charles Dance.

I honestly enjoy all their performances because they each bring something unique to the role.

I cannot stress enough how violent the Robert Englund version is if you want to give it a go, but Erik Destler is insane, twisted, and fabulously murdertastic in this. I love the creepy, evil vibes the man gives off. Think of this film as a time travel AU of the original novel. I feel like he nailed Leroux Erik's darker, snarky personality that some people tend to forget he had and the gothic horror parts of the original novel are there. Bonus: they keep the Faust parallels like in the novel!

I'm gonna say it: I love the Charles Dance miniseries. I know it's not the best, but damn, he is so dry and sarcastic I cannot help but enjoy his performance. I want to pinch his cheeks and smother Cherik with the love his father never gave him everytime I see him. Again, this one focuses on the operas a lot, and for me it's a bit boring. But the backgrounds, settings, and props in this thing are fantastic and the costumes are wonderful too.

That leaves Gerard Butler in the 2004 movie. No he is not the world's greatest singing Phantom, but I don't care. I absolutely love his facial expressions and body language. The Phantom is an emotional, expressive dude and the Red Death costume scene is pretty good. I love how kind and sincere Emmy feels in this film and I appreciate she's not overracting and doesn't feel fake compared to some other Christines *coughSierracough* Being the film version of the ALW musical, this Phantom story focuses on the romance and Gerard excels at that. When he and Christine are singing Past the Point of no Return, I FEEL THEIR PASSION! And that's what counts more so than hitting the same notes we've all heard a million times before.

Now for the versions in the 'I will eternally like this' category 😊 :

The Phantom of the Paradise from 1974. This is also a very violent and dark film so fair warning if you haven't seen it. It's a bizarre rock musical, but if you're weird like me and enjoy Rock & Rule or the Rocky Horror Picture Show, this might be a film you'd like too. I don't want to spoil it too much but the Faust/devil parallels are here too, as is various pop culture references. His teeth and mask are terrifyingly cool, and so is the electronic voice box he uses. It makes sense Daft Punk was inspired by this film. Maybe G1 Soundwave was inspired by this film too, but that's a debate for another day 😉

Next is the animated 1988 film. This one features animation on par with other 80s tv cartoons of the time. I love that they kept the Persian and the torture chamber from the novel. The Phantom's death scene is pretty damn epic. Christine is kind of a flake, but animated Leroux Erik is hilariously insane and terribly charming, especially when he calls himself a Don Juan. It's worth watching just for his antics and his dialouge.

You might not expect a Goosebumps episode to do a Phantom story any justice, but here we are: 1995, The Phantom of the Auditorium is a spooky fun take on the story and honestly, I'd like to see the full play the kids at that school are putting on cause it looks better than some of the live Phantom stage scenes I've seen. Both young boys playing the Phantom are fantastic actors and the plot twist at the end is great.

I absolutely have to give a shout out to Wishbone's Pantin at the Opera. He is the best, cutest, most adorable Raoul de Chagney ever and I will fight you if you dare talk smack about this version. I'm not even a Raoul stan by any means but like, this dog is precious and I enjoy this episode so much.

Also in the animated category and cute dog category is Scooby Doo Stage Fright made back in 2013. This movie is one of my fave Scooby Doo films (yes I own almost all of them on dvd) and there are multiple Phantoms, a reality tv show contest, and Fred and Daphne finally kiss each other! Lots and lots of hidden Phantom references in the background and lots of voice acting talent for those of us who appreciate that.

Now for the versions I intensely dislike 😏

The 1962 Herbert Lom version. UGH where to start. The sets are so small and everything looks dirty and of the wrong time period. The color in the film looks washed out. The clothes look too modern somehow (maybe it's their hairstyles?) and it bothers me. It feels low budget in a bad way and it shows. This phantom is not likeable or pitiable even though his backstory is similar to the Claude Raines version. He has no romantic interest in Christine, so it feels off. This guy is such an old a$$ piece of sh*t, he literally slaps Christine as she's singing for him for no damn reason. His paper mache mask looks like a Kindergartener's botched art class project. His personality is like somebody locked up cranky grandpa in the basement and he's PMS-ing because y'all forgot to give him his daily prune juice. This squatter's lair lacks creepiness, and his bizarre sidekick is annoying and yet somehow more interesting than the Phantom. The pervert manager trying to bang Christine aggravated me and simultaneously made me want to vomit. Raoul is the only likeable character in the whole damn movie. The Joan of Arc opera scene makes up for some of the film, but it's still terrible.

Next on my meh list is the 1983 made for tv movie starring Micheal York and Jane Seymour. Now, this one has some likeable and applaudable scenes: the various murders and general creepiness of the Phantom, and the lair scene when she wakes up in his bed and the Phantom gets all up in her face is so intense and so Leroux I absolutely love it. The rest of the film is a jumbled hot mess at best, but Jane Seymour is 🔥 and she gets some damn good sex, so hell yeah to that!

And lastly, I do not like the Royal Albert Hall 25th anniversary recording. I should preface this by saying it is Sierra I don't like. I like Ramin, I love Hadley, everyone else is wonderful but I cannot stand Sierra. She tries too hard to make Christine a Disney Princess- and that doesn't fly with me. It comes off as insincere or mocking the source material at best, and at worst it makes Christine look like an airheaded ditz. Apparently Sierra played Ariel at one point which is hilarious because of all the Disney princesses, I dislike her the most. But that's a different rant for another day.

And finally, the one I hate most of all:

The 1998 Argento film. This is the worst Phantom adaptation I've ever seen. It is a whole lotta nope for me. Between the rats, the unecessary and pointless telepathy, the r*pe scene, and the unfunny weird vibe from the murder going on in this film it's a disaster from start to finish. Honestly, it's the rats and his hair that bother me from a visual standpoint alone and it's beyond disgusting the way this a$$🤡 treats Christine. I don't like any of the characters in here and for good reason. It's not worth watching and if you do, be ready to bleach your brain afterwards.

💖 Sorry if this was a long read! Thanks again for giving me an ask and I will cherish it forver!!!! 💖

[plumeriaheart]

Cosplay Surprise [Leviathan/F!Reader]

This is the third(???) smut fic I’ve written and I still feel awkward about it rip... But also, Levi is a precious boy!!! Pls I just wanna make him flustered for days and shower him in love and affection!!!

FANDOM: Obey Me!

RATING: smut with some fluffy undertones~ 

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

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Perhaps you had been in over your head when you ordered the costume and wig from Akuzon, but when the packages arrive at your doorstep, you feel like you have to go through with it. What's the worst thing that could happen? Leviathan would call you a normie, but that's nothing new. You don't think he'd be mad at you for trying to cosplay one of his favourite idols – at least you hope he wouldn't be. As long as the cosplay doesn't look cheap, you should be fine, right? Now it's just a matter of trying the costume on and making sure you look as similar to Ruri-chan as possible.

You're happy to find that both the costume and the wig seem to be of acceptable quality; Leviathan would have your head if you dared to wear a cheap costume of his beloved Ruri-chan. The fabric envelopes you in a soft hug, complimenting your best features. You don't recognise yourself in the mirror at first, so unusual does the long blonde hair and the green outfit look on you – but you find that it doesn't look bad, per se.

Grabbing your D.D.D., you scroll through your contacts and select Leviathan, sending him a text to ask whether you could come over to his room right now. You don't expect him to reply straight away, knowing that he might be busy with one of his games, and in the meantime, you could see if you could put on some make-up to make the cosplay perfect. But before you can even grab your make-up bag, your D.D.D. rings, and upon glancing at the screen you see one text message from Leviathan.

Leviachan: Perfect timing, I could use your help with some co-op dungeons. The door's unlocked :thumbsup:

His words bring a smile to your face, imagining what kind of reactions you'd get from him. You're not against playing games with him, but if he reacts to your cosplay the way you want him to, there would be something more important to do.

You listen at the door to hear if anybody is out and about before you leave your room, quickly making your way to your boyfriend's room. You knock to signal you're there, but don't wait for a response – he did say his door was unlocked. In true Leviathan fashion, he doesn't turn around right away to greet you, mumbling a quick 'Hey' as he's executing something that looks like a complicated combat combo. You remain by the door for a couple of seconds, taking a deep breath and finally going to join the demon by his desk.

Your eyes quietly follow his character on the screen, watching as he decimates a group of goblins – he must be nearing the final boss of this dungeon, and you know better than to interrupt him during an important battle like that. It doesn't bother you, you enjoy watching him play. Watching him do something that makes him as happy and as focused as this warms your heart, and though you came to his room with less pure intentions, you don't mind waiting if he looks this into it. You may also be curious to see how long it takes for him to notice the way you look.

"This boss fight shouldn't take long. I managed to get my hands on the legendary sword of ruination – it has a drop rate of 0.1 percent! Isn't it awesome?! The cursed flame enchantment should be strong enough to one hit regular enemies, but this boss here is special! He casts a drain health curse on you when you enter his dungeon and to lift it you have to defeat him. If you can't defeat him and have to leave so you can level up first, the curse is gonna stay on you! lol I bet so many noobs got killed by this boss when it's SO easy once you think about it!"

His eyes are glued to the screen as he enters what seems to be the final stage of the dungeon, the music picking up in pace and a brief cutscene commences. Something that looks like a giant mutated version of the goblins he fought before appears, clad in spiked armour and wielding a giant axe which seems to be emitting green smoke. Before you know it, you find your own eyes glued to the screen, rooting for your boyfriend to win the challenge ahead of him. He furrows his brows as he smashes the keys more aggressively, then finally lets out a sigh of relief when the boss goes down in one final move. He's about to turn his head and show you a brilliant smile when he suddenly freezes – finally, he notices what you look like right now.

"R-Ru-Ruri-chan?!" He squeals, eyes wide open and cheeks burning red. As much as he tries to hide his blush behind his hand, it's still visible to you. His eyes flit from your hair down to your face, and finally to your outfit. He's not sure where he's supposed to look, there's so much to take in.

"Do you like it, Leviachan?" You ask in a singsong voice, putting on a sweet smile and tilting your head to the side. The demon lets out a whimper, unable to form any words. "I thought I could make you happy by cosplaying as Ruri-chan..." As you come closer, he reacts by leaning back. His eyes roam your figure, taking in every detail of your appearance and you believe you've never seen him blush so aggressively. He looks at you with a mixture of disbelief, shyness, and even lust.

Would you really do something like that for someone like him? He can't believe it, and for a few seconds, he just keeps blinking, afraid he might wake up and find his room void of you. But you're sitting in front of him, looking at him with an uncertain smile. Quick, he has to say something before you get the wrong idea!

"R-really? For… For me?" The words come out more unsteady than he wanted them to, and he curses himself mentally. But then you give him a reassuring smile, a nod, and he's over the moon. In one quick motion, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Leviathan can't find the words to describe how touched he is, but he's certain you can feel his heartbeat racing against your chest. Hell, he'd be surprised if you couldn't hear it at this rate.

You don't make any attempts to move, instead combing your fingers through his hair reassuringly. There is no denying that you enjoy the way he clings to you as if he had to make sure that you're real, that you're his.

"Leviachan?" You hum into his ear, taking pleasure from the way he shivers.

"Y-Yes?" His grip on you only tightens, head nuzzled further against your body.

"You can do more than just hug me, you know?" A chuckle escapes you as he looks up at you, eyes glassy from how flustered he is. Never in a million years would he have thought… Sure, there had been times where he fantasised about his favourite idol, but… Ugh, you're just too good for him! But you're here, in his arms, and the way you smile at him makes his heart flutter – a sudden wave of courage (and maybe desperate need) washes over him before his lips into yours. His kiss is clumsy, nervous and eager, but you've come to love the way his lips feel against yours. When you let your tongue caress his lower lip, he responds with an inevitable moan, allowing your tongue to meet his in a tender dance.

The kiss grows more forceful as he pulls you on his lap, and you can feel the bulge in his pants pressing against your core. Grinding your hips against his crotch, you feel his chest vibrate as he groans against your mouth, and, with one hand gently placed behind your head, he pulls you closer against him. His other hand travels down to your ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh. The sudden intensity of the kiss awakens butterflies in your stomach, your soft moans swallowed by his hungry lips.

He only breaks away to look at your face, to see your flushed cheeks and your lips parted with longing – his own face mirroring your expression perfectly.

"I'm all yours today, Levi," an almost plea falls from your lips, dripping with affection and lust. The tips of his ears tinged a dark shade of red, he nods to himself as if to calm himself down. Any attempt to calm down right now would be futile, you think, but it seems to do the job for him as his lips latch onto the soft skin of your neck, gently nibbling on it before suckling on it. A hot sensation begins to spread from the place where his lips connect with your skin, and you can tell that he'll be leaving a mark on your skin. As if only realising this now, the demon licks along your soft skin, soothing the red spot he created.

"I-Is this… okay?" Levi's voice is laced with uncertainty, and he barely allows his lips to graze your shoulder while awaiting your response.

"Of course it is, Levi – I think it's exciting, seeing you this needy." Your words are accompanied by a slight giggle, running one of your hands down his chest ever so slowly. The way your fingertips create the slightest sensation against his skin lets him crave you more, and when you begin to unzip his pants, he lets out an unholy moan.

"W-Wait..." He breathes, and you do as he says, looking at him with curiosity in your eyes. "Can you… sit on my desk?" When he raises his gaze to meet yours, you can tell how much self-control it took for him to ask this, and who are you to deny him? You meet his lips in a quick peck before you get up, hiking the skirt up at your waist as you sit down on his desk. You lean back a little, watching him get up and placing both of his hands by your hips, his face mere inches away from yours. He gulps, running his left hand over your thigh and inching closer to your core.

You loop your arms behind his neck to keep him close, eyes glued to his face as his confidence begins to grow. With an excited smile, he allows his fingers to run along your panties, and another blush rushes to his cheeks when you let out a content sigh. His fingertips begin to circle your clit through the fabric, and you can hear him take in a sharp breath when he feels your panties growing damp.

"Does… that feel good, MC?" The demon asks, trying out different pressures to see which one can coax out the sweetest reaction from you.

"Do you even have to ask? I love when you touch me, Levi – please, keep going," you whisper, shutting your eyes as you allow the pleasure to run course your body. Your words are music to his ears. With his right hand, he lifts your chin to kiss you; almost getting lost in the moment when you part your lips for him instantly. But you seem to be okay with him being more adventurous today, and so he begins to trail further kisses down your clothed body. He kneels, tugging at your panties, awkwardly fumbling with them before he manages to pull them further down. When his lips connect with your thighs, you've all but forgotten that, focusing instead on the way his mouth inches closer to your aching lips.

He doesn't waste any time and begins lapping at your pussy, allowing himself to savour your taste with every stroke of his tongue. It doesn't take long for your moans to fill his room, along with the lewd sounds of him sloppily licking your pussy. Levi shifts between your legs and before you know it, he's placed your thighs over his shoulders, hugging you closer. His tongue explores your folds with fervour, your essence coating his mouth and chin in the process. It reminds him that you're his, that no one else can taste you nor make you feel this way, and his chest swells with pride. As you tip your head back in pleasure, you run your fingers through his hair, tugging at it and urging him to go faster. Hyper-aware of your needy touches, Levi gives in to your desire.

When he lets out a shuddery moan, you feel it reverberate through your entire body. He goes from eagerly running his tongue along your slit to sucking on your clit, enveloping the sensitive nub with his lips. A jolt of electricity runs through you when he clumsily grazes his teeth against your swollen clit, a choked moan escaping from your lips. Searing heat grows within your body, pooling at your core, and the demon can tell by the way your hips try to buck against his face.

"L-Levi, I'm… ahh, so close," you whine in between moans, and the way you say his name, dripping with pleasure, makes him shudder once more. Spurned on by your involuntary reactions to his tongue's administrations, he finds the confidence to slip his tongue inside of your heat. You arch your back as his muscle teases your core, feeling your walls begin to clench as the unmistakable wave of your impending climax crashes over you. Your fingers curl in his hair when your orgasm crashes down on you, a string of curses falling from your lips. Even through your orgasm, Levi keeps licking at your pussy, driving you to a point of pleasure and ecstasy that makes your vision go blank for a couple of seconds. It's only when the sensation becomes too much that you attempt to clench your legs together, that he stops and looks up at you, admiring the mess that you have become thanks to him.

You are painfully aware that the only sound filling the room is your ragged breathing, but it takes you a few moments to catch your breath. When you look down at Leviathan, you notice his mesmerised gaze – and the fact that he's stroking his cock for you, now freed from the confines of his pants.

"Can… Can you keep your clothes on for… for the next part?" He asks you as he slowly gets up, crimson tingeing his cheeks. Your eyes wander from his dishevelled hair down to his glistening lips, taking note of the way he hungrily licks them, before you nod. Still dazed, he takes your hands and helps you get up, supporting your wobbly legs by swooping you up in his arms. It's easy to forget how powerful Levi really is when he shuts himself in his room most days, his shy nature not doing him many favours in that aspect. But he is the third-born for a reason, you think as you look up at his face.

Gently, he places you down on the ground before he begins grabbing pillows and blankets from the bathtub. He throws them on the ground, arranging them in a way that he believes is comfortable for you. You can't tear your eyes off of him, enthralled by his appearance. You know that he doesn't think much of his looks, belittling himself more often than not, but you think that if he could see himself through your eyes right now, he'd disagree. Such a vulgar image it is, and yet you can't think of any other word than beautiful to describe him.

"W-Why are you looking at me like that…? Do you… Do you not want to go further?" His question snaps you out of your thoughts, a flash of concern washing over his face, and you shake your head right away – you feel yourself aching for his cock to fill you up, a need throbbing deep within your core. The demon looks relieved at your response, and his abashed smile makes your heart skip a beat. Grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie, you pull him closer and your lips crash into his. You can taste your own essence as your tongue slips inside of his mouth, coaxing a muffled moan out of him.

It's all the encouragement he needs as he gently pushes you down, your own hands roaming down his chest and tugging at his hoodie. He gets your hint, he really does, but Levi doesn't seem to be able to tear himself away from you long enough to remove the hoodie. His cock is already aligned at your pussy, the tip of it prodding at your entrance, but despite his need for you, he seems to drown in your kiss instead. There's a hunger in his kiss that takes you by surprise, so unexpected from the usually submissive demon. When your fingers find his length and wrap around him, his entire body shivers. With slow motions, you begin to pump his cock, the heat of it teasing your slit. His hips move intact with your hand without entering you just yet, eliciting a deep growl from the back of his throat. Levi only breaks the kiss to look at you, eyes searching for permission.

"Take off your hoodie and you can fuck me," you say breathlessly, and with a small whimper, he complies. You let your eyes wander his pale skin, watching the way his breath catches in his chest as you work his cock faster, a red flush of passion adorning his fair skin. His gaze finds yours once more, asking for permission and when you finally nod, letting go of his cock, he buries himself inside of you with one swift motion.

The moan falling from your lips fills the entire room, followed by many more as the demon begins to thrust into you at a frantic pace. His strokes are quick and sloppy, hitting all the right spots to make you arch your back in pleasure. With every thrust inside you, you feel your mind growing hazy with lust once more, and the only thing on your mind is him. Levi's eyes remain on you as he fucks you, taking in the way your lips part, the way your tits bounce under your clothes and the way your eyes roll back when his cock hits your sweetest spots.

He's not new to the way your body reacts to him and vice versa, but seeing you in that costume is doing sinful things to him. Once more, he finds himself picking up the speed before he leans down, resting both of his hands next to your head while his face hovers above yours. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss, moaning his name against his lips.

It's enough for him to lose control of himself entirely, pounding into you as your moans grow in volume. You can feel his climax coming on by the way his thrusts become even more frantic, slamming his cock into you rougher than before, leaving your legs trembling.

His cock twitches inside of you before his hot seed floods your pussy, a surge of heat washing over you. Though his movements slow, he keeps rocking his hips into yours, panting heavily.

"Ahh, s-shit shit, s-sorry," Levi whimpers when his movements come to a halt. You're still breathing heavily, looking up at him with a questioning expression on your face. "You… You d-didn't… I-I mean, was that… was that enough?" You realise that he's apologising for coming before you could, and with how flustered and apologetic he looks, you cannot help but giggle. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he pouts a little, about to protest when you cup his cheeks in your hands.

"Levi, listen to me, okay? You're always enough for me. No one else can make me feel this good, and no one else can make my knees weak in more than just one way." Your words make him whimper again, his lips desperately pressing against yours once more until you're out of breath.

"I-I love you so… so much, MC!" Levi stammers, squeezing his eyes shut so you don't see him tearing up over his emotions.

"More than Ruri-chan?" You hum teasingly, not expecting any answer as you give him a quick kiss.

"Y-YES!" He almost shouts, only realising how loud his words were after they left his mouth. "S-Sorry," he adds, more quietly this time. How can he make such a fool out of himself when you're beneath him, looking like the epitome of beauty and passion?! Not too mention, he's still inside of you and – oh god, he's so embarrassed! The only thing stopping him from crawling into a hole to mope is the way you look at him, so much affection in your gaze that warms his heart.

"I love you, too, Leviachan~" You hum with a smile, and all his anxieties seem to wash away just like that. How…?

"I know this wasn't the type of co-op battle you had in mind when you texted me earlier, but… maybe we should go for another round – to grind some exp, you know?"

You can't just say those things without a warning! How is his heart supposed to handle you when you say those things, looking like that!?

His immediate response is a whimper before he presses his lips against yours once more. This time, he's going to complete all of the requirements for this quest.

A/N: I definitely feel like I could’ve done more with the cosplay aspect of this fic, but also, I don’t even know what Ruri rly looks like so who knows?? 

[mnemosyne-musing]

there’s a magic surrounds you (river/11)

prompt from claire (@tinkerbellxoxo) : Amy remembers how her friend Mels got her and Rory to share a kiss on New Year’s and wants to do the same for her new friend river and the doctor - I have changed this slightly but hope you enjoy!

Here on ao3

The Doctor bounded enthusiastically down the stairs as the TARDIS landed, throwing a grin over his shoulder at Amy and Rory who were following him at a more sedate pace. He had just picked them up from their honeymoon, disaster averted at the final moment, and had promised them one final trip just to make up for the whole near-death experience before he dropped them home.

 “Here we are!” The Doctor threw the TARDIS door open with a flourish and gestured for them to go out first, “Don’t say I never deliver on my promises, eh!”

 “Doctor, you literally just had to rescue us from a crashing spaceship on our honeymoon,” Rory pointed out.

 “Ah,” the Doctor held up a finger triumphantly, “But you didn’t crash, did you!”

 Amy rolled her eyes as she stepped out the door, taking in the celebrations going on that they’d arrived in the middle of. “So,” she turned back to face the Doctor, raising an eyebrow at him, “You’ve brought us to a party?”

 He grinned back at her as he followed them out the TARDIS. “Not just any party, Pond!”

“Oh really?”

 “Nope!” he rocked back on his heels, looking very pleased with himself, “This is Vantis VII. Human colony. Very normal. But,” he held up a finger excitedly, “They do have an unusual orbit around their suns. Not quite spherical you see and it messes up their calendar. It can’t quite fit into the usual Earth year.”

 “So?” Amy shrugged as she looked around.

 “So!” the Doctor continued, “Every eleven years or so they correct the calendar by having one extra long night at New Year’s and making it a huge party. And,” he spun around on the spot, gesturing around him, “That’s where we are tonight!”

 “Good, eh?!” he grinned at them both.

 Amy glanced up at Rory, biting back a grin before nodding and looping an arm through both his and the Doctor’s, leading them into the crowd. “Not bad Raggedy-man, not bad.”

 The party was indeed quite spectacular. There was free-flowing booze, all sorts of fantastic food, a swing band of intergalactic fame and even a small theme park within the grounds of the huge stately home where the party was being held. A few hours after they arrived, Amy dragged the Doctor from the dancefloor where he was terrorising some locals with his version of the Macarena. She grabbed his arm and steered them both in the direction of the nearest bar. Rory had disappeared a little while ago trying to locate the nearest toilets.

 “Come on, I think I need at least another glass of champagne after witnessing that,” she quipped as he protested loudly.

 With alarming expertise, Amy elbowed her way to the front of the crowd at the bar and commandeered herself a free bar stool.

 “So,” she said, resting her elbows casually on the bar once they had their drinks, “Who are you going to snog at midnight then?”

 Unfortunately for him, the Doctor had just taken a large swig of his brightly coloured drink at that very moment which he then promptly choked on.

 Smothering a grin as she slapped him on the back, Amy watched in amusement as he tried to regain his composure.

 “Snog?” he managed to gasp after a few moments, “What?! Why would I want to snog anyone?”

 Amy shrugged. “It’s what you do at midnight at New Year isn’t it?”

 “Is it?!” he exclaimed, almost flailing himself off his stool in shock.

 “Oh yes, it’s a time-honoured tradition,” Amy explained with a grin, “You know Rory and I almost had our first kiss at New Year.”

 “Almost?”

 “Yeah. Before we got together,” Amy explained, “My friend Mels dared us to snog. Which, come to think of it, was probably her trying to set us up…”

 “What happened?” the Doctor asked as she trailed off contemplatively.

 “Oh,” Amy looked slightly sheepish, “I’d had a bit too much sambuca and had to be taken home by ten o’clock.”

 “Urgh, you humans,” he shuddered in mock distaste as he took a sip of his drink through the straw, “Snogging and sambuca. Remind me why I keep you around?”

 Amy rolled her eyes and gave his shoulder a shove as he grinned at her over the rim of his glass. She waited til he had swallowed his drink this time before adding. “Sure you wouldn’t want a midnight snog with River?”

 “What?” the Doctor squeaked, his voice coming out entirely too high for his liking, this time very grateful that he didn’t have a mouthful of cocktail that would have inevitably ended up sprayed all over the bar.

 “Oh, don’t play all coy with me alien boy,” Amy gave him a sly smirk, “I saw you checking her out in that Cleopatra costume.”

“Checking her out?” he spluttered as he felt a blush spreading over his cheeks, “I was not. I was just- just admiring her outfit that’s all.”

 Amy snorted softly into her drink as he glared at her. “Yeah right, sure you were.”

 The Doctor felt the tips of his ears turn red as he quickly took a large gulp of his own drink. He had been admiring her costume. It wasn’t his fault if said costume had only highlighted River’s- well, certain assets of hers that previously he hadn’t spent much time thinking about but that may or may not have invaded his dreams on a couple of occasions since then.

 Looking around desperately as Amy opened her mouth again, he spotted Rory heading towards them and leapt up from his stool with a sigh of relief.

 “Rory!” he exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder as the other man approached them, “The Roman! Have you found the coconut shy yet? Well, they call them coconuts, but-  No? Brilliant! Let’s go!” He steered Rory around before he could sit down and began to march him off in the other direction, purposefully ignoring the knowing smirk of a certain Amelia Pond.

 A little while later, the Doctor found himself alone. Amy and Rory had disappeared a little while ago, telling him they would find him before the countdown to midnight. He had hung around by the bar for a while, drinking a few of these rather moreish concoctions before he decided to take a stroll in the gardens and was now looking at the rather elaborate ice sculptures that adorned the lawns.

 He was currently peering up at one in the shape of a large swan. Or, at least, he thought it was supposed to be a swan but it was rather confusing as it seemed to have two necks. Which was odd. Swans didn’t normally have two necks. At least not in this part of the galaxy.

 Mumbling to himself about the possibility of alien swans, he turned round and almost collided with someone else who was standing in the path beside him. Stumbling slightly, he flung an arm out to steady them at the same time as they did and ended up embracing someone who was all soft curves and hair.

 “Oh, gosh I am so sorry, I didn’t-,“ he started in surprise as he caught a proper look at her, “Marilyn?” he frowned in confusion, his eyes raking over the blonde hair and face of the woman in front of him, “But, what are you doing here- I just saw you, at that party. In 1952.”

 The woman in front of him simply laughed. “Costume party, sweetie, it’s not really-”

 “Sweetie?” the Doctor interrupted, his voice sounding a bit slurred as he peered slightly blearily at her face, “No- you can’t call me that. That’s not for-  I mean, that’s just what-” he trailed off as he stumbled over what he wanted to say. Saying it out loud did sound a bit ridiculous. Just because that was what River called him, didn’t mean no one else could call him that. But still…

 “Doctor, are you- are you drunk?” Marilyn, or whoever she was, asked slightly incredulously as she looked closely at him.

 “Drunk? Ha!” he scoffed, “No! I’ve been drinking these,” he held out his near-empty glass to her, “Tastes like strawberry. Delicious!”

 Marilyn took a tentative sip as he smacked his lips and grinned at her. “Doctor, there’s Venusian vodka in this cocktail!” she exclaimed, returning his glass to him which he promptly drained and then flung dramatically over his shoulder.

 “Oh, well that’s fine,” he shrugged, still grinning stupidly at her, “Alcohol doesn’t affect me. Time Lord physiology y’know,” he gestured grandly with his hand and nearly managed to smack her in the face.

 “Oh, believe me, sweetie, this one really does,” Marilyn murmured as she dodged his flailing limbs, biting her lip and eyeing him with renewed interest, “Really dulls those Time Lord senses,” she added half to herself.

 “Pah,” he dismissed, trying to lean casually against the ice sculpture, “I feel fine,” which was mostly true. He did feel great. His vision might have been a little bit blurry at the edges and it sort of felt like the ground might be swaying at times but really, he was basically fine. “So,” he asked, feeling his shoulder slide ominously against the ice, “What are you doing out here?”

 She gave him a small smirk, raising an eyebrow knowingly as he finally managed to prop himself up on the ice. “Same as you,” she replied, “Taking a walk. Admiring the view. Hoping to find a handsome stranger to kiss at midnight.”

 She winked at him as she spoke and he just grinned at her for a moment until the meaning of her words sunk in. “Oh, what? No, no. I wasn’t- “ he managed to splutter, suddenly jerking upright as she swayed towards him.

 “Wasn’t what?” she asked oh-so-innocently as she moved closer, reaching out with one hand to smooth his bowtie before letting her fingers trail slightly less innocently down his chest.

 The Doctor gulped nervously as her nails clicked against his shirt buttons, suddenly feeling that the whole tone of their conversation had changed and he wasn’t quite keeping up.

 “Do you want to kiss me, Doctor?” she whispered, looking up at him coyly and moving closer still so he could feel the heat from her body, her gaze dropping to his mouth as she bit her bottom lip enticingly.

 “No!” he exclaimed, jumping back slightly, “I mean, yes, of course,” he corrected quickly as he saw her face fall, “You seem very- umm, lovely. But, you see, there’s sort of- this- this thing. Well, it’s not a thing. At least, not yet from my perspective. It is from hers. I think. Probably- Anyway- .”

 For some reason, his answer seemed to appease her as a look of relief passed briefly over her face before she looked up at him appraisingly.

 “You want to kiss her at midnight then?” she asked softly, for some reason a note of uncertainty in her voice.

 Blimey. This had escalated quickly he thought. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. Did he want to kiss River? He might have thought about it. In fact, if he was being honest, he’d thought about it quite a lot. Especially since he’d left her in the garden at Amy and Rory’s wedding. Thought about what would’ve happened if he’d kissed her then. She’d looked so beautiful, standing there with the wind ruffling her curls, teasing him with spoilers and half-answers.

 And even if he did want to kiss her, how did he even go about doing that? Could he just stroll up to her next time he sees her and snog her? Seemed a bit presumptuous? Should he ask first? What if he’d got everything wrong about them and she didn’t want to? Or, gosh, come to think of it, what if he wasn’t any good? It had been a while after all.

 There also was a part of him though that was terrified to do anything about it. That wanted to run away from her as fast and as far as possible. Terrified because he knew if he started down that path then he’d never stop. Never turn back. But it was more than that as well. Once he’d started then it was that much closer to ending. And he really hated endings.

 A soft laugh disturbed him from his thoughts and he looked up to find Marilyn looking at him with an expression of unmistakeable fondness. “Oh, Doctor,” she murmured, shaking her head wistfully, “That’s a lot of thoughts for just a simple kiss.”

 “How did you- can you-” he gaped at her in shock.

 She laughed again gently, shaking her head before pointing at his glass that was lying on the floor behind him. “Makes you think out loud, sweetie. In vino veritas and all that-”

 “Oh, I…”

 “It also makes you a bit rubbish at detecting perception filters,” she continued softly, tilting her head slightly to one side.

 “Perception filters?” he repeated, frowning at her before peering more closely. Now she mentioned it, there did seem to be a slight blurriness around her silhouette if he just looked at the right angle. Although, he couldn’t rule out that that was simply a side effect of the alcohol.

 Marilyn lifted a hand to the pearl necklace she was wearing. She ran her fingers over the pearls briefly before twisting one of them sharply. The Doctor blinked as the air around them shimmered slightly before Marilyn’s carefully coiffed blonde waves disappeared to be replaced with a very familiar head of curls.

 “River,” he breathed in delight as he stared down at her.

 “Happy New Year, Doctor,” she said softly, smiling back at him as she stepped in closer.

 “Oh-,” he suddenly started, eyes going wide as he realised what he had just blurted out in front of her, “But, that means I just told you-“

 She smiled again, that same look of fondness reappearing in her eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she murmured, reaching out with one hand to brush the hair out of his eyes, “It wasn’t spoilers. I’ll answer one thing for you though,” she added, sliding her hand round to the back of his neck, “You don’t ever need to ask me first.”

 Before the Doctor could even stop to ask what she meant however, River had pulled his head towards her and talking was now the last thing on his mind as he was finally, finally kissing River Song.

 Oh, and this was so much better than he’d imagined. He could taste her and touch, yes he could touch her; he had hands, a part of his brain realised in delight as he stopped flailing his arms long enough to settle them lightly on her hips. There were other, far more interesting areas to explore as well, especially if he just moved his hands round slightly and slid them down a fraction so he could really feel…

 Suddenly realising exactly where his hands had ended up, he abruptly let go with a slight gasp. He pulled back from River and stared at her worriedly. What must she think of him groping her like that?

 “I’m so- sorry, River, I-“ he stuttered, aghast at his own forwardness.

 However, River simply threw her head back and laughed, a low throaty sound that sent a thrill down his spine. Grasping his hands with her own, she placed them firmly back on her bum before pressing herself up against him and looping her arms around his neck. “Don’t apologise sweetie,” she murmured in his ear, “I forgot to mention my favourite side effect of that vodka you’ve been drinking.”

 The Doctor tried to suppress a shudder as he felt her teeth graze across his earlobe. “Umm, what’s- what’s that?” he managed to gasp out, as his hands seemed to tighten and pull her closer of their own accord.

 She laughed again before turning her head so her lips were almost brushing against his. “It makes you so delightfully handsy!”

 Whatever reply the Doctor was about to come up with suddenly vanished from his mind as River’s lips were pressed against his and she was kissing him again. As he returned the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, he was vaguely aware of fireworks going off around them in the sky.

 Happy New Year indeed.

[buttmano]

Halloween w/ Spain

Request: "63. "I’m the tall, dark stranger your parents warned you about” with spain"

Rating: Smut/Lemon, Halloween

Smut Tags: Female Reader, Slightly Intoxicated, Size Difference

The music of the party thumped through your body, allowing you to feel the bass in your chest. Lights flashed in sync and you moved your hips hoping you were keeping the beat like the lights were. Your friends were off getting more drinks and left you on the dance floor much to your relief. The last thing you wanted to do was try to exit the dance floor and then try to reenter. With all the moving bodies around you it was obvious that task would be almost impossible.

Your slutty version of Minnie Mouse was quite a hit and gave you exactly the attention you were trying to get. Eyes scanned up and down you, boosting your ego with each look you got. Eventually, your thighs burned from dancing too much and you left the dance floor in search of your friends. The large house that was hosting the party was fun to look at and take in all the intricate, fancy details that your cheap apartment didn’t come close to boasting. 

As you were wandering down a hallway you took a moment in your fuzzy tipsiness to pretend that you were a woman of importance, a princess, a queen, a total badass, the specifics didn’t matter. The fading of the music helped immerse you into your vague fantasy, the clicking of your heels on the marble floor feeding into your boosted ego. As you wandered you realized this wasn’t exactly a large house, it was a full blown mansion. The pillars in the hallway, the ridiculous staircases, the almost laughable statues. It was better to see in the hallways rather than the huge dance room most of the party was confined to.

You rounded a corner and gasped when you bumped into the chest of someone, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

A warm smile on an even warmer face greeted you, “Ah, it’s fine. What might you be doing all the way over here, away from the party?”

“I was just...wandering...,” you admitted sheepishly, fearing you weren’t supposed to be over in this part of the estate, “who are you?”

The brunet man grinned and for a moment you noted that the prince outfit he was wearing fit him almost too well, “I’m the tall, dark stranger your parents warned you about.”

He leaned down towards you, hand resting on the wall next to you. You pulled your lip in between your teeth and appreciated how well the man in front of you smelled. The small amount of alcohol in your system took hold and your face turned into a grin as you leaned up towards him, “Well I don’t think they warned me enough.”

Your comment caused a hearty laugh from him and you almost felt yourself go weak in the knees, “You, my dear, may call me Antonio.”

“I’m Y/N”

A hand reached for yours and brought it to his lips. Your cheeks heated up and you held your breath. How dare this attractive man make you so flustered?! His lips were warm on your hand and you half wished he would have kept them pressed to your skin. After a moment you let out the breath you were holding and returned the smile that he was giving you.

“We should... We should get back to the party.”

Antonio smirked and shrugged, “I’m sure they won’t miss me while I entertain a gorgeous lady. How about I take you on a tour of the house?”

“A tour? Are you sure the owner won’t mind?”

“Hmm, I’m positive he wouldn’t mind.”

He began to walk down the hall in the direction you had been heading and you scurried after him in your heels, “How can you be so sure?”

Antonio paused and looked back at you over his shoulder with a bright smile, “Because I am him.”

The look of bewilderment on your face almost made him laugh, but he refrained. You two continued to walk as he pointed out the movie theater, the gym, the indoor pool, the outdoor pool. As you two continued you allowed yourself to wonder how someone who looked as young as Antonio could own such a house. Perhaps he inherited it? Oh! Or maybe he was an inventor? Anyways, he was attractive and rather funny and the way his large arm felt draped around your shoulders felt nice.

After your tour was done Antonio looked down at you, “So, do you want to go back to the party?” he paused for a moment, “Or would you maybe like a more intimate tour of the master bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” the choice was easy and you happily turned back around to face the direction you just came from.

Your eagerness made Antonio laugh and he walked briskly back towards his room, making you nearly jog to catch up with him. Giggles and laughs left both of you and the second his bedroom door closed you were both feverishly kissing each other. His hands wandered up your curves and easily spread over a large amount of your body at one time. Your lips trailed down from his lips to his neck, determined to leave hickeys on his gorgeous skin.

Antonio easily lifted you from the ground, your legs wrapping around him as he carried you across the huge room. His hands gripped your ass and he boldly used your body to grind you against him. Your lips only parted from his skin to let out a quiet moan. Gently, he laid you on the bed and without a word he knelt on the floor and pulled you closer until your ass was even with the edge of the bed. You laughed softly before he slowly pulled your thong off, smirking at the fact that you wore one underneath your skimpy little skirt.

One of his large fingers ran up and down your slit and you sighed, leaning your head back onto the bed. If Antonio had been sober, he probably would have teased you until you were begging desperately for him to do more. But alas, he was also a bit tipsy and therefore couldn’t help but immediately dive in. His tongue now ran up your slit, collecting some of your wetness on his tongue and happily lapping it up. A thick finger slid into you as his mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking gently.

You muttered a curse as a hand wandered down to tangle in his thick, luscious locks. His free hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling you even closer to his face. A second finger joined the first inside of you and already you could feel a pleasurable stretch in your nether regions. His mouth was skilled and as he easily worked at your clit while curling his fingers in you he relished in the sounds of your heavy pants and moans. Antonio was determined and within ten minutes he had you gasping, your hips going into spasms as you were dangerously close to your climax. Just as you were about to both warn him and possibly pull him off of your pussy, Antonio doubled down and quickened his movements, easily sending you over the edge.

After you came down you saw Antonio grinning stupidly, now shirtless and a condom laying next to you. Carefully, he began to take your costume off as he kissed you roughly. Once your tits were bare Antonio wasted no time and began to play with them, loving how the action made you squirm and grind yourself against him. Again, had he been sober he would have teased you and called you playful pet names, but for now, he was lucky he wasn’t blackout drunk. Once he had his fill of your boobs, and once they were successfully covered in hickeys, he tugged his pants off and finally joined you on the bed, moving you to lay in the middle of the big mattress.

While kissing you again Antonio opened the condom and rolled it on before slowly pushing into you. Both of you groaned in unison and his large body easily hid all of you beneath him. His elbows rested next to your shoulders as his hands ran through your hair, his hips slowly thrusting in and out, dragging his cock along your walls. Occasionally he dipped down to kiss you again and you briefly noted how soft yet rough this man above you was. Perfectly contradicting.

You whined his name and lifted your hips up to meet his, silently pleading for him to do more to you. And he listened. His rhythm quickened and more importantly, became harder. His cock pushed in and out of your walls, the stretch nearly making you squeal in pleasure. The sounds your body made as they collided made your cheeks heat up, but ultimately it was so lewd it just turned you both on more. Hands grabbed at his back, nails digging into his skin while your legs wrapped around his waist as much as they could.

Antonio was moaning in your ear, your name falling from his mouth every now and then as his hands gripped your shoulders, allowing him to thrust even faster. Until one of his hands left to once again stimulate your clit between your bodies. His other hand now slid under your shoulders, effectively holding onto both your shoulders. Antonio was desperately trying to hold his climax back so you could at least cum right after he did. Though if he were to be honest it was hard, you looked so gorgeous sprawled out beneath him and moaning his name that it was difficult not to cum right then and there.

Your thighs tensed around his waist and his fingers did what he was hoping for - within minutes you were once again calling out his name while climaxing. He groaned as he felt your pussy clench around his cock and he finally let himself go as well. You wish you could have burned the image of Antonio’s orgasm face into your mind as you felt his cock twitch inside of you, filling up the condom.

For a moment, Antonio stilled, and you both caught your breath, your legs untangling themselves from the taught body above you. Then Antonio slowly pulled out with a quiet moan and left the bed. He discarded the condom and pulled a pack of baby wipes out of his night stand. You laid on the bed looking at the ceiling as your chest still rose and fell heavily. After a moment the pack of wipes came into view as he wordlessly offered you one. Sitting up, you took one and it served its purpose.

Antonio crawled underneath his covers and he was happy when you did the same. You figured hell, you two just had sex so you earned the right to stay the night. If he really wanted to kick you out he’d have to drag you. The wisps of hair on his chair made your thighs clench and you sighed, ignoring the horny thoughts to instead cuddle next to him.

“My parents should have warned me more.”

A deep laugh came from your partner and he rubbed at your shoulder, “I have to admit, I’m glad they didn’t.”

[alj4890]

And Then I Left You

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) in a “what if” version to the RCD/TRR fan fic And Then I Met You Series

A/N Sorry for the delay. Life has just been off these last few weeks. This chapter is loooonnnggg, LOL. It was actually going to be longer, but I knew I couldn’t do that to everyone. Anyway, lets allow these two some time alone.

@krsnlove​ @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms @flyawayboo  @trappedinfanfiction @everythingmarvelsherlockspn  @sophxwithers @kate-mckenzie @twinkleallnight

Masterlist

Chapter 8 Alone At Last

After all the uncertainty followed by being unable to find consistent moments alone, Amanda and Thomas were at last set free of worry.

Well, mostly.

They had to behave as friends when out amongst the small towns they stopped along their way to different historical sights. Though those moments forced them to keep their distance, neither tempered their soft spoken words.

Thomas had worried that first day how they would handle the hotel situations he believed they were bound to encounter. He had gotten used to Olivia's secret passageways allowing him to see Amanda whenever he wanted.

He should have known that the intelligent lady he adored had already solved that problem.

Pulling onto a gravel road, she drove him toward a cottage that sat alone in a rolling meadow dotted here and there with trees. The two-story, thatched roof building sat amidst large Cordonian oak trees. Roses twined around a drain pipe while wisteria grew in wild abandon adding even more beauty to the rough stone walls.

"I know we could stay somewhere different with each place we visit," Amanda explained. "But then I thought we could stay our entire time somewhere in the middle of it all. It will mean more driving each day, but we will have nothing but privacy here."

Thomas stepped out and followed her inside. The cottage was just as charming on the inside as it was on the outside. Much of the furniture was designed strictly for comfort and a few for whimsy. The wooden floors creaked with each step as he explored the different rooms.

Upstairs, there were two bedrooms directly across from one another with a bathroom dividing them.

His lips curved at knowing he wouldn't have to find a way to sneak around and see her whenever they weren't out in public.

"What do you think?" She asked, a bit nervous from his silence.

"It's charming." He set his arms around her waist. "And perfect for our needs."

She relaxed and wound her arms around his neck. "I hoped you would like it. We will stay here for most of the week before going to St Orella. Then we'll have a few days to ourselves there before I have to travel to Applewood."

"Before we travel to Applewood." He pressed a kiss to her lips. "I've decided to postpone filming until after Liam's Coronation."

"You have?" Her eyes widened. "Why?"

"By the time everyone gets here and settled, it will be just a couple of weeks before the end of the social season." Thomas explained. "I went ahead and told Holly to tell the others. Chris has already expressed his thanks since he and Sharon are still getting used to taking care of an infant. Ryan is still completing the last leg of his publicity tour of his last film and is grateful for not being rushed from one side of the world to another. Everyone else had nothing they needed to do that would rush the production."

"Oh." She smiled softly. "Just how long are you intending on being in Cordonia, Mr. Hunt?"

"As long as I can." He murmured, kissing her again. "If that meets with your approval."

"It does." She smiled against his lips before pulling away. "We should go get our things and unpack."

Thomas followed her downstairs as she told him that she had called ahead and had groceries delivered. She had thought of everything to make their time free of anything tedious they didn't want to have to worry about.

That evening, she pulled a map out during dinner and spread it between them.

"Over here is where the old abbey is that Arthur and Reginald had their duel. Then to the south, is..."

Thomas relaxed back in his chair as she continued to point out the places of interest to him. His attention remained on her face animated in excitement to show him these different pieces of her family history. His mind though focused on things other than the film.

Knowing this time alone would be his only chance at truly romancing her without the need of her pretending to want Liam, he wanted to make every moment memorable for her. Something was needed that would remain on her mind during the tedious dinners, balls, and teas she would have to take part in.

He also hoped this time together settled some personal decisions of his own concerning her.

"Am I boring you?"

"No. Not at all." He took her hand in his. "Forgive me, I was lost in thought."

She squeezed his hand then folded the map up. "Tomorrow we can drive to the Abbey and have a picnic. The weather should be pleasant and--"

A startled laugh escaped her lips when he yanked her into his lap. One hand slipped around her waist while the other tangled in her hair, urging her into a heated kiss.

Their eyes met when they slowly pulled apart.

"Why don't we take this-"

His phone began to ring.

Amanda eased out of his lap. "While you see who that is, I'll clear the table."

Groaning in resignation, he left to find his phone and see who would call him at such a moment.

"Hey!" Addison's cheery voice made him cringe. "I was wondering if it's okay that I come in a couple of weeks to compare my sketches and finished costumes to those paintings in Amanda's gallery."

"It's fine." He grumbled. "Now good--"

"How is everything going?" Holly spoke up before he could end the cal.

His eyes narrowed at being on speakerphone. "Is anyone else there?"

"Just me." Shannon said in a please don't be irritated tone. "I brought the baby by for a visit."

"I see." He bit out. "Everything is fine."

"Is it?" Addison persisted. "You haven't told us how things are going with Amanda."

"Did she ever speak to you again?" Shannon sheepishly asked.

"I can't tell if he's angry for us calling or angry because things aren't going like he wants." Holly complained to them.

"The former." He bit out.

Addison squealed softly. "So you and Amanda are together?"

"In a way." He glanced down the hall where he could hear water running and dishes clattering. "Her being a suitor has forced us to keep our relationship a secret."

"Oh thank goodness!" He could hear Addison dramatically dropping on a sofa. "After seeing all the pictures with her and Liam, I was afraid she had refused to even speak to you."

He hesitated and decided not to explain how difficult that truly had been. "If that is all, I will hang up now."

"Why?" Holly asked. "Are you on a date?"

"As a matter of fact, I am and will be this week as well. With Liam's help we were able to escape the court for some location scouting." He cleared his throat when he heard the water shut off. "Goodbye ladies."

"Wait!” Addison yelled out. “We need details!”

“How much longer until you guys can be out in the open?” Shannon added.

“Are you--”

Thomas jerked the phone away from his ear when Shannon’s infant let out an irritated cry. While the three were distracted with trying to calm the tiny girl, he ended the call.

He set his phone on silent. He didn't trust Addison or Holly and now he found that Shannon belonged in that same group. He had no doubt their curiosity would get the best of them or they would feel the need to offer unwanted advice and call within the next hour. He was determined that these few days he had with Amanda be focused solely on romance.

He knew she had it in her head that they needed to tour every single place. He had not had the heart to tell her that just by looking at her photos that he knew he would have an easy time filming at each location. He merely used seeing them in person as an excuse to spend time with her away from court.

He thought it was endearingly her that she was so ready to help him.

Thomas looked up when he heard her footsteps.

Amanda smiled at him as she set a tray down on a small table. "I thought you might like a cup of coffee."

His eyebrow raised when he saw the bottle of whiskey.

"Just in case you would like a cup of Irish coffee." She explained while preparing her teacup.

Her smile grew when he ignored the coffee pot and instead wrapped his arms around her. His lips skated down her neck causing her to have to fight back a shiver.

"Would you like me to fix you a cup?" She asked, biting down on her lip when he kissed up to her ear.

"Yes, please." He stepped back. "Just black coffee."

Amanda glanced back at him. "Are you planning on staying up late?"

His eyes drifted down her body before lifting once more to hers. "Yes, I am."

The heat rising up her neck and cheeks brought a smile to his face.

She cleared her throat and handed him his cup. Her own smile was warm when he motioned for her to sit next to him.

Thomas lifted his arm so she could settle closer. With little encouragement, she turned somewhat away from him so that she could rest her head back against him while curling her legs under her. The two relaxed and enjoyed the peaceful solitude similar to the ones they used to enjoy in California.

Thomas let his arm drape down to settle across her waist while pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He couldn't help but think that this was one of the things that he himself had been guilty daydreaming about. There were so many nights when he and Amanda would watch a movie or simply relax with a drink of some sort, yet had kept their distance from one another.

He had feared losing her if he stepped beyond the friendship line. To now know that she had felt the same made him wonder what would have happened if he had pulled her close one of those nights.

Their peace was interrupted by a sound of rolling thunder followed by the skies opening up.

Amanda eased out of his arms and peeked out from behind one of the curtains.

"There goes our picnic plans for the abbey." She mumbled. Turning back to Thomas, she grimaced. "I'm sorry. Many of the roads that lead there sometimes flood. We--"

"Then we'll go another day." He reassured her with a slight shrug. "I'm in no hurry as I explained earlier."

"About that," Amanda returned back to her spot beside him. "What made you decide to postpone? I know we've had to wait on Ryan, but you could have shot some scenes that he isn't in. Was it your idea or did the others talk you into it?"

Thomas took a sip of his coffee. "It was my idea."

Amanda propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and set her chin on her fist while studying him. "Yes, but what made you think of it?"

His expression was one of humored exasperation as he met her eyes. "Why do you think?"

She lowered her lashes. "Surely you didn't because of me."

"I did." He corrected.

Her brow furrowed as she looked up once more. "Thomas, you didn't have to change your plans simply because I would have to leave and travel with the court." She set her teacup down and reached for his hand. "I can always do a rewrite wherever I am if you need it and find a way to get it to you."

"You think I postponed the film for rewrites?" He couldn't believe this was her first thought. He clearly had more work to do than he originally thought to alter her view of how he viewed her.

"Didn't you?" Her brow furrowed when she noticed his brief flash of irritation. "I know it isn't because you're afraid that I'll end up falling for Liam or anything like that."

"No. I do not fear you will fall for a handsome, truly kind prince who could give you everything." He grumbled.

Her eyes widened at his tone. "Thomas?"

He turned toward her, mimicking her posture by resting his head against his hand. His dark eyes settled on meeting her slightly narrowed in concern stare with one of his own.

"I know if you felt anything for Liam," he began, "that you wouldn't have made any attempt to have a relationship with me."

He glanced down when she laced her fingers with his, giving a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

His lips curved slightly as spoke. "I want to be with you."

She smiled at him. "I want to be with you too."

He lifted their clasped hands to brush a kiss to her knuckles. "You don't understand. I don't want to be apart from you anymore than I have to."

She stilled. "What are you saying?"

He scooted a bit closer. His free hand lifted to her cheek. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth

"What I'm trying to say is that I will wait however long for whatever amount of time you can give me each day." He explained.

Amanda merely stared at him as the full meaning struck her.

He loves me that much to ignore his passion for filmmaking in the hopes of having a few minutes here and there in secret with me while I am forced to pursue another man.

Of all the gestures or words he could have spoken, this particular one took her breath away. She had lived with him, seen his ever growing excitement, witnessed his work ethic, and had listened to more stories of his life as a director to realize that this was not only a huge sacrifice on his part, but also one that he had made without hesitation.

She had thought she didn't have anymore of her heart left to lose, yet he had found a way to steal it all completely once again.

"You don't mind that I wish to attend the rest of the court events and coronation, do you?"

Amanda could detect the worry in what was usually his confident tone.

Unable to find the appropriate words, she shook her head while leaning forward to kiss him.

His hands cupped her face, holding her steady as he returned her passionate response with his own.

She broke away. Her breathing a touch accelerated from the rush of feelings his touch caused.

He lifted his eyes to hers. "I love you, Amanda." He gently pulled her over to straddle his lap when she said she loved him too. "I don't want to say goodnight to you tonight."

She could feel her heart thudding in her ears. Swallowing, she briefly lowered her eyes. "I...neither do I."

Biting her bottom lip, she forced herself to see how he took her confession.

The look in his eyes caused her heart to triple in beat.

A surprised laugh burst from her lips as he quickly ushered her upstairs. The two stumbled into one of the bedrooms, shutting the door behind them. Thomas had left a small lamp on earlier, casting the room in a warm glow.

A soft smile graced his face when he tugged her back in his arms.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked when he simply held her.

"How happy I am whenever I'm with you." Thomas admitted. "Even before we crossed over into romantic territory, just being near you was enough to improve my mood."

"I've felt the same way for a long time." She cupped his cheek, feeling the sparks down to her toes when he placed a lingering kiss to her palm.

Each kiss and caress that followed grew more passionate as they tumbled to the bed. Thomas gazed down at her at one point. The intensity of the emotions he felt with being with her in a way he had only dreamed of had taken him by surprise.

Noticing his movements had stilled, Amanda breathlessly asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing at all." He simply knew in that moment that she was all he wanted, all he would ever want. "I--" he closed his eyes briefly when she instinctively shifted against him.

Her fingers trailed up and down his back while she waited, trying to be patient with this unexpected break.

His mouth claimed hers when he noticed she seemed to be ready to question him once more. He wasn't able to think how to adequately tell her all the feelings she caused. He hoped he could simply show her what his heart was trying to say.

"Thomas?" She bit her lip when he removed her shirt. "There's something I should tell you."

He trailed kisses down her neck. "Hmm?"

"I've never, that is to say..." Amanda stared up at the ceiling. "I mean, why would I? Ladies of the court are expected to behave a certain way and my family has a tradition of love matches and..." She knew she was making a complete mess out of her explanation. "I never..."

Thomas lifted his head. "Never what?"

Her eyes met his heated gaze. She gestured weakly between them. "Done this before."

There was no possible way he could have concealed his shock. "You haven't?" He didn't know how it was possible.

"Well, like I said..." She sighed as she felt the blush rise up her neck and cheeks. "I was taught that my reputation should be maintained and I knew that only love could tempt me into this."

Thomas propped himself up on his side while listening to her.

His undivided attention was making this seem so much more awkward.

Amanda swallowed and felt pressed to explain. "I had crushes, dates, and all. And there were a couple of times I thought it might be love...but not enough to make me engage in...sex."

"We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with." Thomas managed to say. He reached for the shirt he had just removed. "I don't want you to feel any pressure to--"

She slid her body on top of his, causing his breath to catch at the feeling of her skin against him.

"I'm in love with you." She muttered against his lips. "Knowing you feel the same way makes me want to get as close to you as I can."

He could see the vulnerability in her eyes.

"The only reason I thought I should tell you was in case I'm not," she averted her gaze, "in case I'm not very good at it."

"You will be perfect." He wrapped his arms around her. "You don't have to worry about any of that." 

He rolled them over and captured her lips in another heated kiss. Within moments they lost once more in the other. Every touch, every sensation seemed so much more perfect since they knew they had the other's heart for their own. There was no shyness, no hesitation, as they held tight to one another with every wave of pleasure that washed over them.

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

Thomas couldn't turn his mind off that night. He held Amanda close as she slept, allowing his hand to drift up and down her bare back in lazy caresses.

Something had happened when they made love.

His original plans for when she was done with this suitor mess had become obsolete.

And all because of his heart.

He hadn't expected to lose it completely. He had known his feelings for her were more intense than they had been over anyone else, but this...this was new. So different. So absolutely certain.

He didn't merely want a relationship with her anymore. He wanted her for the rest of his life. He needed her and her love to be his. There was only one situation where that could happen given their lifestyles and location of their residences.

I am going to have to marry her.

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

The next few days were spent with the two taking long drives to some of the smaller towns of Cordonia. Thomas listened to the stories she sprinkled in involving herself and either her family or friends. He found himself enjoying seeing this new side to her.

Gone was the stiff and proper duchess that had been present during every court event. She had been relaxed to a certain extent in California, so seeing her in Cordonia as a noble had been a bit of a shock for Thomas. Now that they had a chance to be a real couple, she seemed even more content and at ease around him when they were alone. Her laid back demeanor and humor that continuously brought a smile or chuckle from him had enchanted him.

There were even more surprises in store for the two. Amanda had let all her barriers down. Thomas realized during that he had done the same thing. It hadn't been a conscious decision. Something about her continued to drive him to being whatever was needed to win her over.

The sites they visited were deemed perfect for their film, yet if asked what he would remember most from their travels he would have to say that it was his time alone with her either in the car or in their cottage. They were able to talk about anything or simply sit in silence while reading or watching a movie. The rest of their time was enjoying the closeness that continued to evolve between them. It was something neither ever wanted to lose.

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

A few days later...

"Pick up." Olivia muttered when she heard the third ring go unanswered.

"Hello?" Amanda's sleepy voice croaked.

"Turn on your television." Olivia ordered.

"What?" Amanda sat up and blinked. "Why?"

"Do it." Olivia muttered as she hung up.

"What's wrong?" Thomas muttered into his pillow.

"I'm not sure." Amanda reached over him for the remote control.

She turned it on one of Cordonia's news station.

"...for those just tuning in, King Constantine has announced that he will be stepping down at the end of next month." A reporter said while rushing over to where Liam stood.

"Your highness?" He yelled out, "How does it feel knowing that at the end of your social season, you will be crowned king?"

"Which of the ladies do you think is most prepared to be queen?" Another yelled out.

Liam held his hands up to quiet all the questions being thrown at him. Riley stood beside him, blinking at the flashes of lights from photographers.

"Oh no." Amanda mumbled. "Poor Liam."

"What does this mean?" Thomas asked.

"It means that Liam has more stress than before." Amanda explained. "He has barely had a moment to come to terms to being our next king. Now he's pressured to choose a wife who will have to immediately step into the role of queen."

She slumped back against her pillows. "This announcement might make him hesitate in picking Riley."

"Why do you think that?" Thomas pulled her into his embrace.

"Leo's abdication has made the royal family appear weak, at least in some people's opinion. Liam has never had to be tested before since he was only the spare to the heir." She explained. "Now he isn't able to show what he is capable of, leadership wise, before taking the crown since he has to participate in this ridiculous queen choosing tradition." She huffed in irritation. "Now he'll stress over choosing a woman who can easily slip into the role of queen without a chance to learn what all that entails."

Thomas frowned somewhat. "And you don't think Riley can do that?"

"She probably could. With Regina there to help train her, I don't see why she wouldn't be a good queen." Amanda's brow furrowed. "The question is this: is Liam willing to put her through that." She snuggled closer into his embrace as she tried to think what Liam would do. "If they had more time alone together, then he would be able to discuss this with Riley and see how she feels about that aspect of marrying him."

Thomas pressed a kiss to the top of her head. After coming to his own decision about marriage, he too hoped that Liam wouldn't base his choice on anything other than his heart.

"Is there anything we can do?"

Amanda looked up at him, a teasing smile on her lips. "Why Mr. Hunt, are you planning on playing matchmaker?"

"No." He pressed a kiss to her lips. "But given everything Liam has done for us, I would like to find a way to repay him."

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

Back at the marina...

"Come with me." Olivia whispered.

Drake barely had a chance to catch his balance as she dragged him toward the docks.

"What are we doing?" He asked once they were out of earshot of the crowd.

"We are going to make certain that Riley impresses Constantine." She stopped him between her catamaran and the Beaumont's monohulled craft.

"We?" He folded his arms. "How are we to do this?"

"By Riley winning the race." She mimicked his stance with a slight irritated tilt to her lips. "You know how impressed the king is with anyone that can sail a boat."

"Yeah, but how are we doing that?" He repeated.

"Bertrand somehow lost his crew." Olivia checked over her shoulder to make certain no one was coming their way. "You will help Maxwell, Riley, and I assume Nadia can at least remain upright long enough to not be in the way, to win this race."

"You expect me and Maxwell to beat out not only your crew but everyone else with a full staff?" His eyes widened. "Liv, your vessel defeats everyone it has gone up against."

"I know." Her smug smirk briefly flashed. "That's why I too will be short a few crew members to help even the odds somewhat." Her eyes narrowed in thought. "We have to make it look like I'm winning until the last second."

She refocused on Drake. "After Constantine's announcement, he will be critically studying all the ladies he doesn't know well."

Drake's stance eased. "Brooks needs every chance to impress him before the Coronation."

"Exactly." Olivia gestured toward the schooner named, Squidsters' Paradise. "Quickly, get on board and be waiting on them."

Drake grinned at her. "I can't believe you're willing to throw the race for Riley."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not doing it for her, I'm doing it for Liam." She huffed while boarding her own, Knife's Edge. "She's what he wants."

"I still think you are developing a soft spot for her." Drake called out.

"Whatever." She grumbled.

He chuckled at the insults she would occasionally say loud enough for him to hear while checking the rigging.

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

Back at the cottage...

"The American won! A thrilled Lady Riley Brooks proved once again why she is a favorite among Prince Liam's suitors. She with only the assistance of Sir Drake Walker and Lord and Lady Beaumont, surprised everyone when she passed Duchess Olivia's boat. Prince Liam was witnessed beaming as he and King Constantine hurried over to congratulate her. After the break, we will hear from our panel about the number of Regatta winners who have then gone on to be the chosen spouse by the crown's heir."

Amanda looked up from packing to catch a few shots of Liam and Riley.

Thomas paused in his when he noticed her still. He then saw what she did.

Liam couldn't hide at all how much he adored Riley.

"At least when the court comes to St Orella, I can put them in rooms close to each other's." Amanda said. "If they are placed in my family wing then they won't have to worry about any other suitors interrupting them."

"How many rooms are in this family wing of yours?" Thomas asked.

"There's my chambers," she counted on her fingers. "Then the gray room, which is held for the king and queen. The blue room. That is usually Liam's." Her brow furrowed. "Maxwell and Nadia will need the green one I think for more space. Olivia usually takes the cream and gold one for the views from the balcony. Drake claimed the teal one years ago." She glanced up at Thomas. "I had planned on placing you in the burgundy room next to mine, if you would like."

"I would."

"Good." Her smile was warm. "I'll put Riley in between Maxwell and Drake's rooms." Her brow furrowed again. "I hope she doesn't mind the color lavender. That was my mother's favorite and reason she decorated the room that way."

"How long will it take to drive to St Orella from here?"

"About six and a half hours."

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

St Orella...

After a lengthy tour of the massive estate, Thomas knew that there was no other place he needed to see to film. Part of the castle was used as a museum of sorts with many rooms remaining as they were centuries ago. The ballroom held him spellbound as he took in the beauty of the honey colored floors, gleaming in the light from the crystal chandeliers.

While he took in the gilded aesthetics, Amanda finalized decisions with her butler and housekeeper for when the court would arrive.

"We will be at Applewood for about eleven days." She explained. "I'll return as early as I can to help finish up preparations." She handed over her lists for menus for each day along with room assignments and seating charts. "If there is anything either of you notice that needs to be done, please don't hesitate to remedy it or to call me." A bright smile graced her lips. "I trust both of you to handle whatever happens."

Thomas watched the two servants puff up with pride as they reassured their mistress that all would be made perfect for her.

Once they were alone, Amanda turned toward him and held her hand out.

"Where are we going?" He asked as he allowed her to pull him along.

"To one of my favorite rooms." She winked at him. "I think you'll approve."

He chuckled at her trying to be cryptic. "I've seen your library." He lowered his voice as they passed by where some servants were working. "And your bedroom."

Amanda couldn't suppress her laughter. "This is something else entirely."

She led him back into one of the drawing rooms filled with antiques and priceless works of art. Her fingers felt along the engravings of flowers and leaves along the fireplace mantle then pressed on a nearby wall.

A doorway was created.

Thomas quirked an eyebrow in silent question.

Taking his hand again, Amanda led him into a dark hidden room. With a flip of a switch, he saw that it was a large theater room decorated in the style of the early 1930's.

"I read that one of my ancestors fell in love with a producer from Hollywood. They used to hold private screenings and wild parties during the beginning of talking pictures."

Thomas took in the large screen, blood red curtains, and decorations that seemed to have been left over from that bygone era.

Amanda wound her arms wound his neck while a smile played about her lips. "Would you like to have a movie date in here, Mr. Hunt?" Her fingers slipped into his hair when he kissed her. "I know it isn't quite like a movie theater, but we--"

"It's better than one." He interrupted. "Because here I can have you all to myself."

"Does this mean you will go out with me?" She teased.

"Yes." He managed to say before they heard a throat clear.

Her butler kept his eyes averted. "Dinner is ready, your grace."

"Thank you, Hudson." Amanda eased out of Thomas's arms. "Shall we, Mr. Hunt?"

He offered his arm as the two walked towards her dining room.

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

The next morning, Thomas left Amanda sleeping and headed into the small nearby town.

He walked past numerous charming shops and eateries that had yet to open until he came to the one that Hudson promised would both meet his needs and be discreet. Knocking on the door with the sign still saying that they were closed, he tried to be patient as he waited on the proprietor he had spoken with earlier.

"Mr. Hunt?" A middle aged woman greeted him. "Welcome. Please do come in."

"Thank you." He looked about at the many glass cases showcasing various pieces of jewelry.

It wasn't quite the quality of selection he was hoping to find.

"If you'll just come this way," the woman gestured toward a back door. "I think you'll find this to be more what you described.

Another room of similar size was hidden with displays of larger, more glittering gemstones. A standing safe sat against one wall, which was soon opened by the woman's balding husband.

Necklaces, rings, bracelets, and earrings sat upon velvet padded trays.

Thomas nodded in approval as he searched for just the right engagement ring.

Each one was carefully studied while the couple explained the carat and type.

And then Thomas found it. He knew as soon as he saw it that it was the one meant for his duchess. The six carat cushion diamond ring was perfect. The gold band had an old fashioned sense to it and had diamonds all along it.

The irony of the princess cut diamond was not lost on him and knew it would make her laugh.

After all, she was willing to give up a chance with a prince for him.

He returned to St Orella before Amanda had awakened. With a plan forming, Thomas decided to leave the ring hidden in his guest room. With Hudson's assistance, he hid it in a small dresser drawer that could be locked. Though he wanted to ask her right away, he thought he should at least discuss it with Liam and see how they should go about this.

Thomas then decided he would ask Amanda to marry him the night of her ball.

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

Applewood...

"I'll see you at dinner." Amanda mumbled as she was separated from Thomas at the top of the stairs.

He nodded with a slight frown forming as he was led in the opposite direction from her. He knew once they were back with the court that they would have to revert to their friendship status. He hadn't expected it to affect him so severely. He knew these next few weeks would be difficult to endure.

It seemed that either the king or queen had decided to assign rooms according to rank.

Amanda's brow furrowed when she was taken down a vaguely familiar hallway, one she hadn't been placed in since she was a young teenager. Often when she would visit Liam here, he allowed her to pick the room she wanted. She usually chose one that lay to the north and had views of the apple orchards that dotted Applewood's rolling hills.

This time she was placed in one on the far side of the estate with a view of the hedge maze. Her luggage was brought in while a maid gave her an update on the evening's dinner plans.

Amanda left her door open once she dismissed the maid in the hopes of seeing just who her neighbors would be.

Her eyes widened somewhat when the king paused in her doorway on the way to his own chambers which were a few doors down from hers.

"Ah, your grace." He smiled at her. "You were greatly missed these last few weeks."

She curtsied. "You are too kind, your majesty." Her answering smile couldn't hide her excitement. "But the absence was well worth it. Mr. Hunt is convinced he can successfully film everything here."

"Good." He beamed at her. "I look forward to hearing his ideas." He left her doorway and knocked on the one next to hers.

"I have a surprise for you." She could hear him say.

The next moment she saw a slightly bemused Liam peek inside her room.

Instead of their normal way of greeting one another, they both fell back to their formal manners as Constantine observed them.

"Welcome back, my lady." Liam flashed a brief grin at her. "I hope your trip around Cordonia was successful."

"It was, thank you."

Constantine chuckled. "I'll leave you two alone to talk."

Once they heard his door close, the two relaxed.

Liam came inside and shut her door. "Now, how did it really go?"

"Perfect." Amanda sighed. "I loved every moment we had alone together."

He hugged her. "That was what I hoped for the two of you."

"What about you and a certain American?" She teased. "Any special time alone?"

"A few." He admitted before grimacing. "I assume you heard the news." He slumped back onto a small sofa. "What a mess this has turned into."

"I saw it on the news." She sat down next to him. "Don't let your father's decision affect your choice."

"Amanda, you and I both know that it will affect it whether I wish it to or not." He rubbed his hands over his face. "Father has spent more time than usual in pointing out which ladies should be on my final list."

"Oh." A slight frown firmed on her lips. "Is Riley on the list?"

"Yes, but only because I pointed out to him how much the people adore her like they did my mother." He turned toward her. "What am I to do? She has never experienced any of the pressures of ruling, but I..."

"You...?" She prompted after a few beats of silence.

"I believe she would be an amazing queen." He said softly. "Her compassion and loyalty would be what the people of Cordonia could always depend on."

"Not to mention keeping their king happy." Amanda pointed out.

Liam snorted in his laughter. "Yes, they would definitely have a more pleasant ruler if I was free to choose her."

"As I recall, you are the one who will be given ultimate power here." She reminded him. "I think that goes along with choosing the lady you care for the most."

"It's more than caring." Heat slowly went up the back of his neck and ears. "I think I'm in love with Riley."

"Then your choice is made." Amanda relaxed back against the cushions and nudged him with her elbow. "I know you have to wait until the end of this social season to tell the world, but I don't see any harm in you enjoying the fact that you have found your queen."

"I wish I had more opportunities to speak with her alone and make certain this is a life she can live happily." His eyes narrowed as he stared off in the distance. "I don't want her to feel pressured into accepting my proposal."

"No chance of finding time here?" She asked.

"Not with Father and Regina inviting senior members of the court to speak to me about their views and such."

Amanda looked about her room. "Where is Riley's room?"

"On the far side, where Drake's room is." He grimaced. "I overheard Father say to Regina that I needed to be reminded of the other suitors vying for my hand."

"Oh." A thought occurred to Amanda. She got up and walked over to a bookcase. She felt around along the top of the third shelf.

"What are you doing?" Liam asked.

"Seeing if I remember this room correctly. If I'm not mistaken, we used to--" she heard a click. "Aha!"

Stepping back, she swung the bookcase toward her room, revealing another door.

"Remember how Drake never could figure out how you and I always managed to win hide and seek together when stuck indoors?" She asked.

Liam's dawning smile was her answer.

"Wait here." He ordered on his way out of the room.

The second door opened, revealing his chambers.

"This is perfect." Amanda whispered, motioning him back into her room. "I'll simply switch rooms with Riley each night once everyone's asleep. Then, we can switch again before everyone wakes up that way your father won't be insulted that we rearranged our rooms."

Liam's eyes widened. "You would give up sleep?"

She laughed with a nod. "I would for you." She took his hand. "You were the one to not only convince Thomas to come here for me, but in finding us ways to be alone." She squeezed his hand. "The least I can do is give you and Riley a chance to be alone in here so that you can decide on your future together."

Liam hugged her tight. "Thank you." He shook his head. "I don't have the words of how much this means to me."

"You don't need them." She patted his back. "Now then. I'm going to go find her and share our plan." She opened up her door and peeped out. "We'll keep this a secret from everyone."

Once she saw that the hallways were busy with members of the court being placed in their rooms, she managed to disappear in the mad shuffle on her way to fix this situation.

[silverwhiteraven]

Wings of Broken White - Ch.9

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on A03 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 8 ] [ Chapter 10 ]

“I don’t want to be scared any more,” Mylène whispered gently to the curious gazes. Ivan, out of the Dragon costume, had one of his wings wrapped around her protectively.

Chloé, decked out in a formal suit and cape, scoffed, “It’s just a costume, Haprèle, pull yourself together!” Adrien, dressed in one of Chloe’s blue and white ballroom dresses, nudged her with his shoulder and gave her a deep frown, shaking his head. She scoffed again and looked away. “If it will make you feel better, just pretend you can still see Bruel behind that ridiculous costume. It will be less scary that way.” She then turned and walked away, her regal red caplet fluttering behind her.

Ivan sent a thankful look to Adrien for the interference, and he smiled back reassuringly. Mylène giggled a bit, looking perplexed but a bit better. “Did she just try to be nice?” Adrien only shrugged, his smile turning knowing, and the group laughed lightly.

They tried the scene again, and Mylène did better, but couldn’t make it through to the end of the stage-fight. Something about imagining Ivan getting stabbed with a sword, even if it was fake, really didn’t help the situation. No one could find her when she ran off again, and that was when the Akum came. She reappeared, but no longer herself.

Rather, she was nor a very real, very large version of the class’s fairytale Dragon. And just like how their costume didn’t actually breathe fire, neither did Mylène’s. Instead, it was very much a blast of glitter.

Marinette found herself to be the first one hit by it when she was trying to herd the class to safety. She didn’t realize anything had happened to her until the class was barricaded in a room together, sans the Akuma Dragon, and everyone was staring at her.

“Uh...What? Do I still have some glitter on me?”

Adrien had broken the silence with a suppressed giggle and a shake of his head. “No, uhm, I think the Akuma did something to your armor?”

She looked down, only to realize it wasn't cardboard and foam. It was heavy, and shiny, and- “Is that-? Oh no, Adrien, your fencing rapier! She turned it into- into a broadsword! M. D'Argencourt is going to have my head if he finds out I got it involved in an Akuma attack!”

He patted her on her armored and caped shoulder and shook his head with a fond smile. “Don’t worry about it. Ladybug and Chat Blanc will have it back in no time. In the meantime, I don’t hear the Akuma at the door any more. I wonder…”

The class moved to glance out the windows of the classroom, only to gasp in unison and see their school’s courtyard transformed in a wave of glitter-fire.

Markov, wielding his still-recording camera, let out a whistling sound. “Now that's what I would call a perfect set for a medieval movie. Do you think we can get Ladybug to not cast Miraculous Ladybug until we finish filming?”

The class broke out into an even mix of disbelieving groans and agreeing hums.

All that was left now was for the Heroes to figure out how to get out there and fix this.

Surprisingly, the civilian heroes managed to get out of the classroom rather easily. It became clear that the Akuma had very little interest in actually hurting anyone. It seemed to simply be making itself at home in their school-turned-castle. It made sense that a Dragon would find comfort in being in a medieval fantasy setting of its own making.

The real problem came when the class tried to leave the building itself. Akuma-Mylène, just like any other Akuma, had her mind set on a task and was hellbent to keep at it. So the entire class was captured and became the Princesses in her dizzyingly tall Tower. Anyone not already in costumes got put into extravagant gowns, makeup, and even jewelry when the group got caught by the glitter-fire. The costumed students got the same treatment as Marinette, their characters brought to life in more detail.

Marinette did a quick headcount of the class, then did it again when she noticed something was off. “Hey, has anyone seen Kim? He was with us when the Akuma caught us, wasn’t he?” Everyone looked around the tower chamber they had been locked in, only for confirmation of his disappearance to pass back to her. That is, until their ever-composed King looked up, screeched in terror, and smacked a few faces when her Swan wings spread out.

Everyone looked up to see a small dragon in the rafters, looking down at them with a wide smile and a wagging tail. It dawned on them, then, that Kim, who had kept the prop dragon head with him the whole time, had probably ended up turning into this adorable baby dragon when they were captured.

His wings spread and he jumped into a glide. Clearly, the wingless boy was enjoying a temporary change in wing-status.

After a few circles around, he landed on Marinette’s shoulder, making her stubble. Her Crane wings flared out to balance her, and she froze. She saw the eyes of the class on her and her breathing stopped in panic.

My wings aren't bound. The Akuma got rid of my bindings- They were hidden under the cape until now- Oh gods everyone can see them, they’re-

Her thoughts were halted as Adrien spoke up.

“Huh, I guess Mylène pictures Knights to have wings! She did get you twice with that glitter-breath thing she does, right?” Marinette sucked in a breath, realizing that he was giving her an out, whether he knew it or not. “Those wings weren't there the first time she got you. Maybe the more you’re hit, the more you're affected? In that case, we should really keep dragon-Kim away from Dragon-Mylène, he might just get bigger!”

Marinette swore she would have kissed him out of thanks for this if she hadn't been weighed down by Kim. Alix and Nino, the only ones besides Kim who knew that the wings were not Akuma-made, added themselves to the kiss-list by echoing Adrien’s words and adding their own reasonings for why someone without wings would suddenly have them.

While the attention was off of her, she tucked her wings back into the cape and straightened up, dragon-Kim content to curl around her shoulders like a monkey. She went to a window and peered out, seeing nothing but the skyline. Curious, she leaned out and looked down.

“Huh,” she pulled herself back inside and turned to her class. “Hey, I think we can escape.”

“Escape?” Alya joined her, looking curious. She glanced out the window as well, and her eyes went wide. “Oh…”

“Exactly!” Marinette grinned.

“Care to fill us in, please?” Nino looked between the best friends nervously.

Alya beamed, “Look outside; the Akuma isn’t watching us. No circling of the tower like a vulture. She expects us to stay put and play our role.”

Max hummed in thought as he joined them at the windows. “This appears to be true. Traditionally in Fairy Tales involving dragons, they are not confronted in the sky, but rather on the ground. Usually outside the gates or somewhere inside. Perhaps Mylène is waiting for Ladybug and Chat Blanc to come as the Heroes of the tale?”

Marinette nodded, glad her classmates were catching on. “Exactly! I saw her down at the base of the tower, and she wasn’t looking upward. We could rescue ourselves and fly out!”

An excited buzz went through the class at the prospect of being their own saviors.

“Yeah, about that,” Chloé spoke sharply, hands on her hips and looking a tad annoyed. “Some of you can’t actually fly, remember? That includes you, Dupain-Cheng. You and Lê Chiến may have wings, but you have zero experience with flying. And not to mention my dearest Adrien! And Sabrina, too, I suppose. That’s four people who can’t leave this tower. And last I checked, none of us winged students are grown enough to carry a whole other person.”

They had to admit, Chloé  had a point, and a big one. They couldn't just leave a chunk of the class behind, stuck in the tower.

Ivan cleared his throat. “I could- I could carry Sabrina and Kim? I have practice flying while carrying things. Mostly gliding, but that’s all we need, right? Just enough to get us to the ground safely?”

“That sounds like a good plan!” Adrien smiled, interrupting Chloé as she was about to retort. “Don’t worry about me, though, I think it might actually be a good idea if I stayed. Dragon won’t be too happy if he finds out the original Princess isn’t in the tower where he belongs, right? Besides, I found a closet full of blankets and cushions. I was thinking I could build a pillow fort while I wait for the Heroes to defeat the Akuma.”

“As cute and brave as that sentient is, Adrien, what about Marinette?” Alya interjected protectively.

Marinette smiled reassuringly and set a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I should probably stay, too. I’m the Knight, remember? A Knight always protects her Princess,” she winked at Adrien, who smiled back with a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Chloé practically growled, displeased, but a look from Adrien had her huffing and turning away. “Fine! Stay if you want! At least your sacrifice will be noble or whatever.” And with that, the class’s King was hopping up onto the windowsill and diving into open air.

It took several rounds of reassurances and encouragement, but eventually, Marinette and Adrien were able to herd the rest of their class out the windows after Chloé. Nino was the last to go, and before he did, he gave Marinette a soft smile and a glance at Adrien who gave a wave before dashing for the closet.

“What is it, Nino?” She asked curiously.

“He protected your secret,” he stated plainly.

“Oh- Yeah, he did…” She looked at Adrien, too, watching as he pulled blankets out.

“The literal model son of a winged fashion designer. There’s a chance that, well… Marinette, I think he knows.” She tensed where she was, but said nothing to try and disprove her friend’s theory. He continued, “Don’t you think he would be able to recognize the use of wing-binders, considering his life? And the thing is...I’m worried about you. We all are, those of us who know, that is. Maybe just, start by sharing your wings with someone else. One person at a time, ya know? Adrien would be a good start. And who knows, it might get you out of this tower, too,” he added with a teasing tone. “I know you can hold a lot of weight on those wings of yours. Be a real Knight and consider giving him a Princess-carry, yeah?”

Marinette snorted and bumped him, causing him to stumble and laugh.

“Just sayin’, dudette! See ya!” And with that, he was out the window with the rest.

She considered his words as she walked over to Adrien where he had started building a pillow-and-blanket fort, just like he had said he would. He beamed from between two of the makeshift walls when he saw her.

“You’re really calm about still being stuck here, Adrien,” she noted softly.

“Are you kidding? This whole project has been the most fun since- well, in a while. Akuma or not, I like being here. Also, I just made a blanket fort. Blanket forts make everything better.” He grinned wide and went right back to building.

Marinette laughed and shook her head. “Fine, move over then. I’m going to help.”

Their fort was flimsy and fell over several times, but they both had to admit, it was a fun thing to do. It also revealed that the closet hid a trap door to a staircase leading downward.

“Who knew having fun would be the answer to our conundrum?” Marinette mused, amused.

“You sure do get caught up with a lot of Akumas that can have fun, huh?” Adrien jokes, causing her to chuckle and fluster at the realization.

“I mean, you're right, I guess. Nino, Nathaniel, Mylène- Everyone just wants to be happy. Makes me wonder what Hawkmoth is doing,” she trailed off, pondering on his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Adrien sat back, looking perplexed. “His power is so...big, but he does so little with it. I could swear he even stops himself from going too far. Why does he even attack Paris and ask for the Miraculous?”

“And what’s holding him back?” They were quiet for a little bit as their thoughts continued on silently, unknowing that they were both thinking along the same lines due to their masked partnership.

The blanket fort fell down on top of them, knocking them out of their thoughts and back into joint fits of giggles. Once they escaped their soft prison, they made their way to the window, looking out. they admired the view, but used it to remind themselves of their duties to do.

“Adrien?” He answered with a hum. “Thank you for speaking up, distracting everyone.”

He smiled gently and glanced at her. “When the wings came out? It was nothing. No one should be stared at like that if they don’t want to be.”

She wryly smiled back. “Thank you anyways. You’re a good friend and I, I trust you, a lot.”

His eyes went wide, “You do?”

She nodded, her smile growing in amusement. “Yeah, I do. Enough to tell you that I appreciate you keeping a secret you didn’t even know you just learned.”

“You mean-” he glanced at her Crane wings as they peaked out from behind her cape. She looked at them, too, noticing for the first time that they had a layer of armor on them as well. She smiled, stretching them out more.

“Yeah. Besides one person, I haven't told anyone about these in almost four years. I’m not exactly...proud of having wings. It’s hard to explain.”

“And you’re okay with me knowing?” He asked, his voice low in awe.

She smiled, a bit embarrassed, and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

He beamed like she had just handed him the stars, and somehow, a twinkle in his eyes made it seem like she had already given him the sun and moon in the past, too. Just to get him to stop looking at her like that, she declared it was time to exit the Tower, and she scooped him up just the way Nino had suggested. After delivering him to safety, she ran off as fast as she possibly could. Not long later, Chat Blanc and Ladybug had Paris and Mylène back to normal.

[queenaryastark]

I don’t understand the obsession with basing Arya’s value and importance on whether she likes dresses or not. It’s brought up, often at random, to simplify the character and to “prove” that she’s not able have love or hold a leadership position or do anything other than commit violence. None of these things are dependent on her wearing a dress or not wearing a dress. 

That said, Arya is not a one-dimensional character, but a fully fleshed out, nuanced character that cannot be fit neatly into a type. So many want to put simple labels on the characters like “tomboy” or “girly-girl” and project things onto them based on those labels rather than actually discussing what’s in the books. The novels prove Arya is a lot more complicated than a one-dimensional tomboy stereotype that hates everything the patriarchy has decreed as “girly” on principle. That isn’t how GRRM writes. 

“I don’t wear gowns. You can’t fight in a stupid gown.” – AFFC  

Arya has just escaped an actual warzone and ended up in the care of a death cult. Self-defense is a concern for this traumatized child. And frankly it is difficult to fight in elaborate gowns. Dressing for specific situations is normal. Like wearing leggings, shorts, or sweats when exercising. 

Also, Arya is exaggerating when she says she doesn’t wear gowns since she has them on before and after that statement. In AGOT, she never criticizes dresses. She wears them until she leaves Winterfell to ride south to King’s Landing. While riding south, she wears riding leathers. When she begins training with Syrio, she wears pants. This is about wearing clothing to fit the situation:

Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don’t wear skirts and silks when you’re catching cats. – AGOT

When she escapes the Red Keep, she is still wearing the pants she was training in and she gathers the variety of other clothes for practicality  as well: 

Arya recognized silks and satins and velvets she never wore. She might need warm clothes on the kingsroad, though … and besides …

Arya knelt in the dirt among the scattered clothes. She found a heavy woolen cloak, a velvet skirt and a silk tunic and some smallclothes, a dress her mother had embroidered for her, a silver baby bracelet she might sell.- AGOT

Those clothes are all stolen from her while she struggles to survive on the street, so she only has her pants and shirt going forward until she was forced into slavery at Harrenhal, where she is stripped and put into a “scratchy wool shift” or simple dress. After helping the Northerners take Harrenhal, she gets a promotion and a page uniform to match:

In her cell, she stripped to the skin and dressed herself carefully, in two layers of smallclothes, warm stockings, and her cleanest tunic. – ACOK

So she’s probably wearing a pink version of this. She wears that until reaching Acorn Hall where Lady Smallwood puts her in two dresses and a pair of breeches:

And afterward, they insisted she dress herself in girl’s things, brown woolen stockings and a light linen shift, and over that a light green gown with acorns embroidered all over the bodice in brown thread, and more acorns bordering the hem.

——

Lady Smallwood insisted that Arya take another bath, and cut and comb her hair besides; the dress she put her in this time was sort of lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls. The only good thing about it was that it was so delicate that no one could expect her to ride in it. So the next morning as they broke their fast, Lady Smallwood gave her breeches, belt, and tunic to wear, and a brown doeskin jerkin dotted with iron studs.

——

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Arya suddenly felt bad for her, and ashamed. “I’m sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty.” – ASOS 

Arya can’t stay in the acorn dress because she wrestles with Gendry, which gets the dress dirty and torn, further proving that delicate, elaborate clothing isn’t a good choice for physical activity. The delicate lilac dress proves the same thing, which is why she is given more practical clothes.

Her next costume change comes at a brothel where the workers “dressed her up like one of S*nsa’s dolls in linen and lace”.  One of the patrons of the brothels tried to proposition her until Gendry stopped him. This leads back to the reason why Yoren had her pretending to be a boy in the first place, to make it less likely that men would try to rape her. Note that she is never free from threats of rape while she’s wearing pants, since she is threatened repeatedly before this. Wearing pants just makes it a little less likely. She is back in her breeches and tunic after that until she gets a fresh version of that garb in the House of Black and White, which is in turn followed by a new Faceless Man uniform:

Her servant’s garb was taken away, and she was given a robe to wear, a robe of black and white as buttery soft as the old red blanket she’d once had at Winterfell. Beneath it she wore smallclothes of fine white linen, and a black undertunic that hung down past her knees. – AFFC

From there on, she wears clothes to fit her station in the HOBAW or to fit the role she has taken on, which include simple dresses or the equivalent of dresses:

A long iron knife rode on her right hip, hidden by her cloak, a patched and faded thing of the sort an orphan might wear. Her shoes pinched her toes and her tunic was so threadbare that the wind cut right through it. –AFFC

The clothes she wore were rags, faded and fraying, but warm clean rags for all that. Under them she hid three knives—one in a boot, one up a sleeve, one sheathed at the small of her back. – ADWD

An ugly girl should dress in ugly clothing, she decided, so she chose a stained brown cloak fraying at the hem, a musty green tunic smelling of fish, and a pair of heavy boots. Last of all she palmed her finger knife. – ADWD

She shaved, donned her smallclothes, and slipped a shapeless brown wool dress down over her head. …Her boots were lumps of old brown leather mottled with saltstains and cracked from long wear, her belt a length of hempen rope dyed blue. She knotted it about her waist, and hung a knife on her right hip and a coin pouch on her left. Last of all she threw her cloak across her shoulders. It was a real mummer’s cloak, purple wool lined in red silk, with a hood to keep the rain off, and three secret pockets too. She’d hid some coins in one of those, an iron key in another, a blade in the last. A real blade, not a fruit knife like the one on her hip, but it did not belong to Mercy, no more than her other treasures did. –TWOW

The issue with Arya’s aversion to dresses was due to functionality. As an active girl, most dresses don’t work with the activities she enjoys. As she’s training to take on other roles and using clothing in addition to performance to fill those roles, she’s seeing the benefit of other kinds of outfits in different situations. 

I would also argue that dressing her up in pretty clothes makes her uncomfortable due to the pressure she was put under to conform to the patriarchal restrictions put on women. Her sister and septa bullied her for not fitting those restrictions and her mother held out the possibility of being pretty as a carrot or prize she would receive once she obeyed. 

All of that said, it really doesn’t matter if Arya hates dresses, loves them, makes use of them, or is ambivalent toward them. That’s not something that will impact whether she is loved or if she takes on a position of power. She can effectively administrate no matter what she wears and the kind of people she would love, would love her no matter what she wore.

[yandere-daydreams]

Request are open!!! :D Can we have a part two of the Shindeku where they get their Darling back, please??

Here’s the first part, but all you really need to know is Shinsou and Izuku had a Darling, lost it (even if only for a brief time), and Izuku… He isn’t the type to come up with healthy coping mechanisms. Not that Shinsou wasn’t playing with fire, to begin with.

TW: Violence, Mentions of Past Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, and Kidnapping/Imprisonment.

~

You thought you were winning.

It’d taken you a minute to realize where you were, the colorless wall and empty space as foreign as a language you couldn’t recognize, but you knew from the second you woke up that you’d been caught. Everything screamed of captivity, even if your room was nothing like you remembered it, a seamless tether now attached to your ankle and the door re-sealed, an unharmed sheet of metal rather than a homey, dead-lock ridden entrance. But, it was still… strange. Otherworldly. Unnerving.

Izuku’s smiling face almost came as a relief, when you finally noticed him.

He was sitting on the end of your bed, fiddling with his hair and shifting nervously and grinning like a madman, even before he saw that you’d started to stir. You made the mistake of trying to sit up, attempting to push yourself into a more respectable pose, but your head pounded at the slightest bit of strain, a whimper forcing its way through your lips before you could swallow it down. Arms were wrapped around you in a moment, pulling you into his chest, his face soon buried in the crook of your shoulder and his mouth pressed against your neck, panting and whispering and kissing whenever he couldn’t think of something to say. You refused to listen, but pushing him away seemed more and more tempting with every incoherent mumble. You didn’t, though, stopping yourself before you could start to move.

Your wrist still hurt from the last time you tried something so blatant.

“You were gone for so long,” He whined, sounding more like a child after their first day of school than a repeat-kidnapper. You moved to speak, but he only clung you to tighter, holding you closer, the air forced from your lungs as quickly as it could be taken in. “It was so stressful, and I was so happy when I saw you, I just couldn’t control myself. Does anything hurt? You were asleep for so long… did anyone else hurt you? I know how unsafe it is–”

“I’m fine.” You weren’t. Your vision was splotchy and your back was sore and you felt like your skull was a second away from splitting open, but you’d sooner die than make him think is ‘help’ would heal you. Even if your resistance left you in worse condition than submission would. “I’m just…” You considered staying quiet, or telling him a partial truth, but you knew better than that, by now. Instead, you leaned towards him, ducking and slotting yourself against his form, making yourself seem smaller, weaker. “I… I was so scared, out there. I thought you’d be angry if I came back, and I remembered everything you told me about villains… everything was so big…”

You trailed off, breaking into a pseudo-cry, but that was enough for Izuku. There was another kiss to your cheek before he leaned back, cupping your chin with both hands. Willing your eyes to water, you made yourself look vulnerable, like you were so in need of his protection. Of course, he reflexively cooed, ensuring that he wasn’t mad and that he’d never let anything happen to you, but you didn’t bother responding until he mentions your absent captor. “Shinsou’s going to be so relieved, too!”

You hadn’t noticed he was missing, not until Izuku mentioned his name. Without thinking, you let your voice shake, glancing up at him so pleadingly, you nearly made yourself cringe. “Is ‘toshi alright? Why isn’t he here?”

Izuku averted his gaze, biting his lip before he spoke. “I missed you. You know that, right?”

You nodded. He blushed.

“And I would never try to replace you,” He continued, half-hearted nodding to something behind you. Reluctantly, you turned, the cot’s barred headboard revealing something beautiful as soon as you did. You almost didn’t recognize him, at first, sedated and barely conscious, dressed in a modified version of his Hero Costume, one that barely reached his thighs. But, you could pick that lilac hair out of a crowd of thousands, his eyes just as full of bitter hate as you remembered. There was one difference, now.

You weren’t the one in a shock collar.

“He put up such a fight,” Izuku explained, Shinsou blinking before shutting his eyes again, letting out a light groan you wouldn’t have noticed a few minutes ago. You were leaning against the metal poles before you realized it, a wide, toothy smile stretching over your lips when you spotted a bruise near Shinsou’s collarbone, a nasty bite-mark over his jugular. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what’d happened. “We’ve been sharing the master bedroom, but I thought you might want to see him. I think it’ll help him adjust, considering how perfect you turned out.” There was a pause, a peck to the nape of your neck, but you weren’t paying attention to Izuku, anymore. “It’s for the best, right? I can keep you both safe, and you won’t have to be lonely! He looks so pretty, too, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, he’s stunning,” You reassured, gaining a slightly more aggressive response from Shinsou. He slumped forward, separating from the wall he was positioned against, barely managing to hold up his own weight. He looked surprised, but the expression was quickly replaced by one of hurt, then pain, but it was soon masked by the pure, unfiltered anger he’d always ridiculed you for feeling.

You could’ve laughed when he bared his teeth, a throaty growl serving as a hollow threat. “You little bitch. I should break your fucking legs just for thinking you could escape–”

“Sweetheart.” If Shinsou was growling, Izuku was snarling, his tone enough to make Shinsou bow his head like a kicked puppy. Still, he wasn’t done, moving toward the edge of the small bed, having forgotten you at the hint of misbehavior. “You know better than to use that kind of language around (Y/n), I taught you better. Do you have anything nice to say?”

Shinsou didn’t answer, only gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes, but that small, almost unnoticeable flinch was enough to sway you. Suddenly, freedom seemed unimportant, insignificant, a child’s fantasy you were stupid to ever believe would see the light of day. But, this, this was right in front of you, gasping and chained to the wall and just as trapped as you were. Expect, he hadn’t gone through any of the trials you had.

He didn’t know how to get what he wanted.

Instantly, you broke into tears, curling into yourself and sobbing. Izuku didn’t come to you, no, he was the kind of person to remove the offensive stimuli before soothing your reaction to it. All you received was a soft rub to your back before he stood, Shinsou only protesting for a moment before he went quiet, a sickening crack echoing through the room, followed by hasty footsteps. When you opened your eyes, they were gone, and you were able to open your mouth and laugh until you ran out of breath.

You’d lost, when it came to running away. It was over, and Izuku’d won.

But, this was a whole new game. A siege war, not an exercise in escapism. Your chance to make one of those monsters see how you felt, even if you had to use the other.

And you’d already won the first battle.

[what-a-messsss]

2x3 rewatch

I keep forgetting that Brach is still in S2.  Oops.  Also, I apparently went to check something in S6 last time I watched something, so it started at 6x2 instead of 2x3 and I yelled.  But anyway, on with this mess.  “Death Came in Like Thunder” apparently.  It sure did.

Ah yes, let us not forget that Branch is MANLEH.  This shall be proven to us by him murdering his cousin, Trunk, with big ax.  Chop chop, Branch, kill Trunk.  But oh no, must also show that he is People Smart, so must also lose because this makes him likable.  And many white people clap.  Yaaaay.  But be sure to say, “I let him win, Ferg,” while your competitor is right next to you, so he almost surely heard you.  Good good.

Oh Ferg.  Could you look more gormless if you tried?  (I mean, probably not, since presumably that was the goal of the actor, so he would have been trying.  But still.)  Bb.

Heh, nice thematic cut to Walt also chopping wood.  And YAY, Henry’s gorgeous truck (and gorgeous self).  I’m just going to take a moment to appreciate the fact that Henry rolls up and just helps himself to some of Walt’s thermos of coffee.  Because of course he does.  But I do so love these touches that they put in that do underline the fact that they are married have been besties for going on 40 years.  Also, I love this jacket of Henry’s.  The woven top, jean jacket sort of one?  Yeah, top 5 costume pieces of his for me.  (Also on that list, all basically tied with each other, basically any pants he wears.  I am reminded, when they cut back out to a full body shot.  Because I am very shallow, and he is very pretty.)

Haaaaaa.  And of course Cady talked to Henry before she talked to Walt.  Walt is a butthead.  And, yeah yeah, she just found out that he’d been lying to her for over a year, but that just proves my point that Walt is a butthead.  And we’re back to this whole idea that she left her phone, which just... ugh.  No.  But Henry’s face when he says that she said that she is safe, and he’s so worried, but still willing to respect her boundaries.

“She is an adult, Walt.”  “She’s my daughter.”  For fuck’s sake, you jackass, your ADULT daughter; that’s the whole flipping point!  Also, that little emphasis on my daughter, pfft.  If you didn’t want to feel like she preferred her cool dad to you, maybe try being less of an AAAAAAASSHOLE.  And, like, respecting her.  Even a weensy little bit.

“Etta Place”  I don’t remember if we find out why that’s the ‘assumed name’ that Cady chose, but I’m intrigued.  Wait, I just googled.  Looooool.  She spent years with Butch and Sundance.  Nice.

Walt is such a soft touch with teens.  *snack crackle pop* that kneecap back into place.  Vic starts this scene saying, “The 911 operator,” though, which is interesting, because I was kind of under the impression that Ruby was the main dispatcher, so it would be kind of heartening if she actually had back up with that.  ...Or maybe they’re just far enough out that a cell call made would be picked up by a tower farther out and have to be routed back in to the station/them.  I have no idea how that actually works.  Another rabbit hole for me to totally not go down.  Hopefully.  Shit.  They’ve apparently upped the fine for trespass since the show, though, because it’s $750 (or 6 months in jail) now and Walt says it’s $500.

And once again, we see Vic actually wearing gloves while investigating a suspicious death, and Walt just squinting into the distance helpfully.  I suppose “things got bad” in Basque country around WWII, but there has been friction there that dates back before the Spanish Civil War, or even the Carlist Wars the previous century.  It did get gnarly with the dictatorship of Franco, and the formation of the ETA in retaliation, though, so yeah.  (Francisco Franco is also on the list of people who anybody with a time machine should go back and beat the shit out of.)

Shit, I forgot about the animal death.

Knock knock, no answer.  Better just wander in without a warrant.  I know that the guy who they know lives there is dead, but still, no fricking warrant; I suppose the worry of a poisoning could count as probably cause?  

Gods, but there are moments when I do absolutely adore Vic, and they are usually when she’s taking the piss out of Walt.  “Reclusive bachelor chic; you and Marco have the same decorator.”  Looool.  But also, sad, because Martha has only been gone for a little over a year, and Walt is not the kind of person who would, like, change stuff and get rid of her things, so that’s kind of odd.  Maybe Henry and/or Cady went though and put away some of her things to try to help Walt move on?  But damn, the ‘excuse you’ look on Walt’s face when she does say it, pffft.

AND AGAIN, Vic wearing gloves, Walt with his bare ass hands picking up the picture of Picasso’s Guernica; can you at least *pretend* you’re a cop, *some* of the time, buddy?

Lol at the barrabilak; they are pretty well by the Rocky Mountains, so it’s probably not all that surprising that Walt’s had some “Rocky Mountain oysters” before.

I had forgotten that Vic had four brothers.  But her comment about Sal going off to look after the sheep and how if someone had told her that one of her brothers were dead she “wouldn’t care about any damn sheep,” I don’t know.  It kind of annoys me.  It’s totally in character for her, which is good, but I think it’s part of what can annoy me about her character.  Different people grieve differently, but also, I know she’s only been in Wyoming for a year or two, tops, but how is it so hard to fathom that someone one would be concerned about their livelihood, even in the face of personal tragedy?  Just, seeing beyond her own very narrow experience doesn’t seem like something she’s very good at.  It would be one thing if she’d framed it as “this is suspicious, and here’s why I think so as a cop,” but it was, “I wouldn’t react that way personally, so it’s sus.”  

Sure, be suspicious because there’s a suspicious death and family members are always suspects until ruled out, but approach it like a cop.  Or at least think about it from more angles than just your own, not terribly similar experience.  You’re a white city cop who can’t (or won’t) adjust to being in BF rural-ville, but these are immigrant shepherds whose family come from a homeland where the cops were just as likely to kill you as answer questions, and you’re side-eying a guy for going to make sure that their meal ticket doesn’t get obliterated?

I need to keep reminding myself that I really did want to like Vic.  I really did.  She just... they don’t make it easy for me.  Maybe she’s serving as an avatar for audience who don’t know about some of the culture stuff, and the audience get answers from her ignorance?  But honestly, I wish they’d picked a different way to handle that, if that’s what they were trying to do.  Her response to Henry being salty about Thanksgiving still really pisses me off.  Because it was shitty and racist, and... do we really need a character basically rolling their eyes and saying, “It was so long ago, why don’t you just get over it,” about something that is intrinsically tied to the genocide of so many people?  Why are Indigenous people just supposed to “get over it” but “Remember the Alamo” and “Southern Pride,” and shit?  Fuck’s sake.  Honestly, that might have been the moment when they lost me on her character.  She has moments where she’s awesome, but they never really address her being fucking racist or give her a chance to grow into a better person.  Which sucks a lot.  Fuck.  Ok, that was a lot.  Sorry.  Back to the actual ep.

AH, nice of you to beam in from the campaign trail, Brancheroo!

Uh, so I paused it to look at pic in the newspaper, and then being me, started to look at the articles surrounding the pic.  And the one with the headline “Fans Injured At Local Game” is actually about the Stewart case?  From 1x3?  I’m guessing that somebody went to the trouble of writing up an article for that for some S1 ep after it and they just plugged it in because when not paused, you might catch “Sheriff Longmire” there and that’s all they need.  Especially since the text starts to repeat after the first paragraph.  (I am the worst pedantic little shit.)  Ooooor, maybe even though it’s S2, it’s hardly been any time since 1x3?  The date on the newspaper is March 31, 2012, so there’s a timeline hint. 

Awwwwww, once Walt points out the bird, Ferg knows exactly what it is.  Occasional twitcher, are we, my lad?  “A red-tip meadowlark,” indeed.  Oh bb; Ferg’s face when he sees Walt looking at the pic of him with Branch in the paper.

“You go too fast, you miss the little things.”  Every once in a while, he actually sort of mentors Ferg.  I wish he did more of that, especially since we see later how capable Ferg can be.

Go suck an egg, Branch.  Why does she get all the “good” assignments?  Maybe because she was actually on the job when they found the body, not campaigning.

OPE.  Lizzie’s gift.  Yeah, I’d probably choke on that coffee if I were you, too, girl.  Better hope that there wasn’t perishable food stuffs in that gift, because that has been in there for a whiiiiiile, hasn’t it.  Wait, was Ferg in the office when Lizzie dropped off the gift?  Because his face said more than just “Did somebody give Vic a present?”  Suuuuper subtle with that whole pushing the drawer closed with your foot there, Vic.  Pfffft.

“Cyrano Caballero”  How daaaare that skeeve take Cyrano’s name in vain?!?!  (I have a thing about Cyrano de Bergerac.  It’s quite possibly my favourite play, and I adore the character, and have exactly 0 chill about it at all.  I find Brian Hooker’s translation of “The Ballade of the duel at the Hotel Bourgogne Between de Bergerac and a Boeotian” with “Then, as I end the refrian, thrust home,” vastly superior to any other translation that I’ve heard or read, though for the rest of it, I will grant that there are others to be preferred.  But that version of his Ballade is exquisite, and I will not be swayed.  Holy shit, FOCUS.  That is so very much not the point.)  It’s not even a throw away line in this ep, it’s just a random, very well chosen, if utterly appallingly insulting, company name.  It’s actually incredibly clever for what the business is, and if it didn’t make me so stomping mad, I would applaud whoever came up with it heartily.

Vic’s face listening to this jackass’ spiel is a thing of beauty.  “A good woman goes a long way of easing the obvious stresses of your daily life,” the jackass says, cutting his eyes at Vic when he says “obvious stresses,” and I caaaackle.

What is it about this guys’ horrible glasses that just makes him so much more hate-able?  I’m not entirely sure, but kudos to whatever costumer put those on him, because they are perfect.  In the ‘I want to punch him’ way of perfection.

And after all of that about Walt’s “lady friend,” Vic brings Lizzie’s present.  Womp womp.  That went super well.  Yuuuup, run while you can.

Poor Ferg.  Branch manipulates him, Vic ignores him, Walt shuts him down...  Poor guy just can’t get a break.

I actually kind of like this motel manager--the one who “doesn’t judge people” and is a stickler for warrants?  At least somebody in this county cares about warrants.  Also, those doors are actually really pretty.  Nice colour, and the carved scrollwork designs are nice.

What an odd shot: the one when they’re coming out of Walt’s office after talking to Skeevy McGrossFace and Rosa.  It’s a weird sort of shaky-cam stepping back, just preceding Branch walking, and then turns to follow him when he sit’s on his desk.  But it’s a really different style of shot than I can remember, so much so that it’s a bit jarring, especially after the series of nearly stationary close ups that we just had.  Weird. [18:42-18-50]

Cady!  I haven’t made much note of her costuming before this, but it seems notable that’s she’s only in monocromatics.  Especially next to Fales in muted tones, but still some colour, and surrounded by the colourful grafitti of the alley where her mother was stabbed.  Nice way of setting her apart from everything.

SHEEPIES!  Ooooo, that wagon is so cool.  Ah dang, the way that Sal corrects Walt’s pronunciation of his brother’s name is so gloriously passive aggressive.  Good for you, my dude.  Names are important, and people should have the respect to make the effort to get them right.

Aaaaaand Walt, the definition of Do, Don’t Tell, just shoves the guy to keep him from drinking the possibly dangerous water, rather than, like, using his words.  Walt’s gonna Walt.

Iiiiiiiii am a mess, truly.  It cuts to an architectural model and I start giggling like a 6th grader, because I know it’s going to be a Jacob scene.  He’s not even on screen yet, ffs.  HANDS.  I’m fine.  Totally fine.  (That’s totally a lie.  I just rewound to the beginning of the scene because I kept giggling too much to pay attention.  What the hell.)  First time we’ve seen one of the chips, which at this point must be a marketing mock-up, since nothing is built yet.  And he actually types, not just doing the hunt-and-peck thing that is sometimes easier on a tablet.

Looking at the weaving that is up on his wall (maybe a rug?) I’m hoping that the prop people actually did buy from Northern Cheyenne artisans.  They apparently did most of their filming in New Mexico, so I hope they made the effort to get the patterns right, and buy from the actual tribe they’re supposed to be portraying, I guess?  And now I’m distracted by the fact that the random hanging light behind Jacob is at a weird angle?  

Look, ever since I realized that the “Hey,” that Jacob does is apparently just A (thanks to it also happening in That Damned Xmas Movie) I am endlessly amused (and charmed) whenever Jacob does it.  I don’t know why it makes me so happy, but it does.  (This is legitimately embarrassing.  How much trouble I am having focusing.  Beyond my normal focus issues, which, as shown above, are already impressive.  Because thiiiiirst.)

“My boys at the lumber yard did just throw you a campaign rally.”  I love how Jacob is basically apparently not just his secret angel-investor, but also a sneaky campaign manager.  Did Branch just think shit like the rally just happened?  He’s not fricking Ferris Bueller; somebody organizes those.  And apparently it’s either Jacob himself, or someone who Jacob appointed to do so.

“I thought you were just a casino developer.”  You have noooo clue, Brancheroo.  “I prefer to remain a silent partner.  White people get nervous when Indians start taking back their land.”  Oooooope.  Especially interesting because there are previsions for the Tribal Council to purchase land to be Tribal land (Section 6 of Article IX of the Tribal Constitution), but this seems more along the lines of personal acquisition.  Though maybe not, because “on the board” doesn’t necessarily equate to being the owner.

The set up of Jacob’s office is so interesting.  Functionally for the show, it’s probably for better shooting angles, so that we can see more of Jacob behind the desk while Branch is sitting in front of it, but from an in-the-verse decorating standpoint, bit’s fascinating.  He has this focal wall with the gorgeous wall hanging, flanked by floor to ceiling window, but instead of having his desk centered on that wall and directly facing the bulk of the room, it’s at an almost 45 degree angle on a huge rug, and it’s so unexpected.  I kind of love it, and want to analyze it for days.  Also worth noting is that pride of place is given to the  Hotamétaneo’o headdress which is on a stand centered in front of the wall hanging.

How fucking tired must Jacob be.  He’s used to Walt... Walting, but then Branch comes in, who he is literally spending his own money to support in his bid for sheriff, and he pulls the same shit of assuming that he’s behind Bad Shit.  And then Branch frames it as “bad P.R,” so he’s there to “discuss it with [him] privately.”  And then basically threatens him with Walt.  I swear.  ...there is something a little amusing about Walt being used as the stick in the carrot and a stick method of negotiating.  He certainly is enough of a blunt object most of the time.

Oh fuck you so much, Branch.  Playing the “can’t give you details about an ongoing investigation” card as though you have some professional or moral leg to stand on after basically blackmailing Jacob with Walt’s vendetta is just such shit.  You don’t get to look down your nose at Jacob’s quid pro quo pragmatism when you were the one who came to him for financial backing.  You sanctimonious little shitheel.  If you didn’t want to deal with Jacob, you shouldn’t have taken his $100k.  He’s a business man, and you’re an investment, and not a quixotic one.

“He’s probably the only person to have died from [hemlock] since Socrates.”  And then Walt’s incredulous look and her, “Alright, I googled it,” were subtle comedic gold.

Ooooooo, that was a nice little shot.  Not quite foreshadowing, but showing Branch’s suspicions and sort of inviting the audience to share them.  Walt says his bit about the Army poisoning “Indian wells” to kill them off and get their land, and then we see Branch fiddling with the Four Arrows chip and narrow his eyes considering and slip the chip into his pocket, looking suspicious.  It’s a really neat little moment of visual storytelling, no lines, literally three seconds long, just sort of snuck in there, but super effective.  Really nicely done.

And again, Cady is in monochromatics.  And, shit, just gave Fales Henry’s name.  Aaaaaand right after, she realizes that the junkie was killed and realizes that it had to have been one of her dads (or so she thinks).

Sal’s monologue in the cell is a good emotional payoff that plays off of Vic’s comments towards the beginning of the episode.  I see the narrative worth of her making them, and how the structure of the episode benefits from it; but seeing those writing elements from the outside of the show doesn’t make me able to like her as a character who said them in-universe.  And then the threat Sal makes of vengeance on someone who killed one he loves also underscores the stuff with Cady’s investigation into her mother’s death very well.  As much as I gripe about the writing *cough S6 cough finale cough* there really is some damn good writing in this show, and I don’t show enough appreciation for it.

Huh, and now there’s a sort of inverse of that weird shot preceding Branch from earlier, but this one is much more effective and less off-putting.  This one [33:00] precedes Walt as he walks back into his office, still a medium close up, but it’s much steadier, and the way it is framed, it does quite a bit to convey his mindset, and he walks out of the shot and we see the three deputies following him in like baffled ducklings, making the shot serve another purpose, too.  Which honestly makes that earlier shaky follow shot of Branch even weirder, because this one was so much better.

And then Walt has his creepy little speech about how someone would want to watch the light go out of their eyes and not caring if you get caught.  I do appreciate that when he’s talking about the psychology of killing with poison he doesn’t just call it a “woman’s method” which media so often does.  It might have been the writers keeping who the killer was abstruse, but it was still more gender neutral.  Especially since according to The U. S. Department of Justice's report on Homicide Trends in the United States (1980 to 2008) of all poison killers in that time period, 60.5 percent were male and 39.5 percent female.  (Table 5 on page 10.)  So that long held idea that even Sherlock Holmes was written to have that poison is “of course” a woman’s weapon is pretty crap.

Awwww, the good old days when Walt paid attention to animals.  ...I am still bizarrely salty about the fact that he never named his horse.  What a good pupper!  

And then we have a classic example of Sneaky!Walt, which always takes people quite by surprise, because he’s usually as subtle as Miley Cyrus.

Also because when he does this, it tends to be pretty fucked up, in a Make Someone Think They’re About To Die way.  And then he does His Thing, where he just lays out all of his suppositions, with no proof, only the terror of her thinking that she’s been poisoned and you’re withholding medical intervention to get her to confess.  And is, irritatingly, correct about his theories.  But I’m pretty sure this qualifies as coercing a confession?  She thinks she’s fucking dying.  Even Vic looks at him like it’s fucked up, and her moral compass where he’s concerned is... skewed.

They way this reveal was played out, (”How’d they find her so fast?”  “Hard to say...”) is somewhat ambiguous as to whether it’s supposed to be that Branch went there to tell Jacob or not, but I kind of doubt it?  I kind of figure that the meeting that Jacob was having when Branch rambled in was already with Rosa signing the paperwork.  Jacob is smart.  So, HAH.  Little good your “can’t comment on an ongoing investigation” schtick did.

And then the news that someone in law enforcement has been asking after Henry.

“Lizzie was waiting for you here tonight.  You should talk to her, Walt.  She seems to think she is in a relationship with you.”  ....omgs.  The tone.  I mean, yes, the blisteringly glorious SASS, but how does one not read that as incredibly shippy?  Howwwww?

“You are an honest man, Walt.  I would like you to stay that way.”  Oh Henry.  When did you decide that you weren’t?  Was it when you hired Hector?  Or was there something before?  ...I feel like there were things before that.  Hello darkness my old friend.

“It is not your job to protect me.”  “It is my job...”  THOSE WERE THE DAYS.  Those were the fucking daaaaaays.  And the emotions on Henry’s face after Walt says, “That was my right,” as though Henry cheated him of something.  I am so deep in OT3 feels I cannot even see daylight here.  The feels of them having been an OT3 and then Walt pulling this shit, and Henry having to defend his own “right” to avenge Martha?  It wrecks me.  “A good woman was murdered.  A bad man is dead.  End of story.”  

[herohotline]

Bean Boy (Midoriya x You)

A/N: Future/Coffee Shop!AU where Midoriya is the number one hero getting coffee in your run of the mill cafe. 

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

In modern society, heroes came in all shapes and colors and they were actually fairly common. How they came about is still a mystery- especially to you since you never studied the subject- but they were an everyday occurrence and common idol now. And, well, you were no hero. Just a barista in a family-owned shop. But, you’d argue, working in customer service was sort of a heroic act of its own. Maybe your hero name would be “Bean Boy” or something.

Scratch that, that was a terrible name.

Working in a coffee shop wasn’t all that bad. The fact that it was family-owned sort of made it better- you weren’t family but you may as well be at this point with how well you knew the staff and owners and how kind they were to you. It was definitely better than working at a chain or somewhere so busy that you'd never get time to relax.

Rush hour for your little shop ended about an hour ago- so it was right before noon. Even rush hour was pretty small, it wasn’t something that two workers couldn’t handle. Your co-worker, Aiko, actually just left for her lunch break, leaving you alone in the shop for now. You had been idly washing dishes and keeping things tidy when the distinct sound of the shop bell rang. It was either a customer or it was Aiko with her lunch and your drink you gave her money for.

(You hope for the latter- you’re sick of just drinking coffee and bubble tea when you're thirsty at work)

Looking up, it definitely wasn’t Aiko. Instead, it was a tall, beautiful man with unruly green locks and charming emerald eyes.

Looking down at his t-shirt, it reads “sweater”. You want to laugh. What sort of humor does this guy have?

“Welcome, sir. I’ll take your order when you’re ready.” You notice he’s staring at the menu and you don’t want to rush him, so you continue to work on things behind the counter once he gives you a small smile.

His smile is too cute.

The wait isn’t long until he tells you he’s ready to order and you’re not surprised- there’s not a lot on the menu to look at other than your lunch and snack options. You go toward the iPad on the counter and smile at him.

“Great! What can I get you?”

“A medium mocha and… you serve soba?”

You laugh. “Yes, surprisingly enough. I know it’s odd for a cafe, but you can really get creative if you’re a small shop.” You think for a moment before you add- “it’s only cold soba, though, so if you want it hot I can… microwave it?”

The green-haired wonder actually laughs- you can’t believe your weak joke made him laugh. He smiles so easily- so happily- you feel like you’re going to melt. “Cold soba is actually perfect. It’s how my friend prefers it.”

“Wonderful. I’m assuming this is a to-go order, then?”

“You’d be right.”

“Alright. That’s a total of 1,300 yen.”

He hands you the money, a little extra in his hand, and you quickly make the change and offer it to him before he stops you. “Keep it. For making me laugh.”

You blush. “Oh- thank you, sir!” You certainly won’t say no to a personal, nice tip. “You can sit anywhere you’d like- since I’m making a new batch of soba, it will be 10 or so minutes. I’ll bring out your drink first, of course,” you can’t believe how much you’re flustering around him. You’re so weak…  “Is that alright?”

“Absolutely.”

He takes his seat and you get to work. You brew the coffee first, as you said, and once you deliver it to him you quickly get to work on the noodles. The kitchen isn’t exactly private- the cute boy can easily see you as you work since there isn’t a separating wall from the dining area and the kitchen. The only thing that separates it is the small counter where the iPad and baked goods are at.

The television on the wall plays as you work, and it seems to have your customer's attention. Right now all that’s on is a news channel, and when you try to listen in, you think they’re talking about heroes. When are they not, though?

“What’s your opinion on heroes?” The customer asks you suddenly. You're surprised he’s making conversation- not a lot of them do. You hum as you strain the cold noodles.

“I think they’re great. I mean, who doesn’t? There’s the whole Stain group, but even those people like heroes. They just like different ideals for them, I guess.”

“That’s true,” he says. “Have you ever thought about being one?”

You laugh sarcastically. “Maybe when I was a kid. But when I grew up, I thought about the world a bit more realistically.” You start to put the meal in a to-go container- not forgetting the dipping sauce. “Being a hero is a dangerous job. It’s an uncertain job- you never really know what you’re gonna get. I guess I like a bit more stability. Plus, I’m working at a tiny cafe. I think you can tell I’m not very suited for celebrity life.”

You put the box together and place it on his table. “Your soba,” you say and smile at him. “Plus, sometimes I like to think I’m a special type of hero. I mean- Hero work is basically a fancy and glittery version of customer service. I’m halfway there if you think about it.” Oh god oh god shut your mouth.

He laughs again and you laugh along with him, your heart soaring. You like him- why wouldn’t you like someone who’s so cute and likes your jokes? “You’re right- thank you for the meal, hero! What’s your name?”

“Bean Boy,” You blurt without thinking and he laughs even louder, his head thrown back. Your cheeks burn as you frown. “What?! It’s catchy!” Oh god oh god OH GOD.

“It’s memorable, that’s for sure,” he stood from his seat, taking the coffee and noodles in his hand. “I’ll definitely remember you, Bean Boy.” The damn guy actually winks at you. You’re positively flushed by now, you know it.

He leaves the store after that, and while you’re reeling from the experience- your heart sinks an inch. You never got to catch his name.

Now you sort of wish you did work at a busier place that took names with orders.

—-

Eventually, he does come by again, this time with a familiar face beside him. Color you impressed, fucking Shoto the number 2 hero is in your cafe!

“I didn’t know you were a big shot who hung out with heroes!” You greet the familiar man with an impressed eyebrow. He grins.

Shoto looks surprised and looks down at his friend. They’re exchanging some sort of secret conversation in their eyes- what could it be?

They break it up quickly and Shoto approaches the counter with the nameless wonder. You notice that today, his white t-shirt reads "turtleneck". How many of these shirts does he have? “He really liked your soba and wanted to come here himself.”

“Really? I didn’t think our dish was that good…”

Shoto hums with a nod. “It was nice. I’d like to get it again.”

“Of course,” you take the order on the iPad. “Anything for you- uh,” god, you don’t know his name. “What is your name, anyway? It’s driving me nuts.”

He smiles and actually takes a second to think about his answer- you have a feeling he’s not going to give you his real name at all. “Midoriya.”

The now-named Midoriya snorts at the look Shoto gives him.

“Right. Anything for you, Midoriya?”

“I’d love another mocha, Bean Boy.”

“God.” You groan. “I hate you. That’s not my name.” You flash your name badge and he deliberately ignores it. You hate him. Groaning again, you give him the same price as before and he gives you the same amount- same tip.

Once you get to work, Shoto and Midoriya seat themselves at a table and the ice and fire user speaks. “I’m surprised they don’t know you.”

“I kind of love it.” Midoriya shrugs. “No special treatment. It’s nice.”

“To be fair, though… they didn't really react to me at all.”

“Yeah, true.” He speaks louder for you to hear. “You don’t really freak out around celebrities or heroes, do you?”

You answer from the kitchen. “Not really. I don’t want to be annoying and just say the same shit I know everyone has heard before.” You finish the drink and walk over to the two, setting it in front of your green-haired acquaintance. You look towards Shoto. “Unless you want me to grovel for you?”

Shoto snorts with a smile. “You were right. They are funny.”

“It’s my one redeeming quality,” you go back to the kitchen.

“So if that’s the case- why not tell them? It might be interesting to see if they’d get embarrassed or not,” Shoto whispers to his friend. Midoriya just shakes his head.

“Just wait.”

Soon enough, you come out with Shoto’s cold soba. He smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen him smile before as he thanks you genuinely and then digs in. You're about to ask if they want anything else before Midoriya speaks up.

“Huh. Would you look at that.” He’s pointing towards the television. Interest piqued, you take a look and don’t notice the eye roll Shoto makes at his friend across the table.

There, on the modest-sized TV on the wall, is the number one hero. He’s dressed in full costume- rabbit mask over his head. You don’t see anything special about it other than the fact that he saved a good amount of people again. “What?” You ask. “Is he your favorite or something?”

Shoto chokes on his noodles.

“Oh my god, are you alright?!”

Midoriya is grinning ear to ear. “He’s fine, just a little shocked. I am too- I mean, do you not like him?”

“I don’t not like him,” you continue to worriedly eye Shoto. He gives you a soft wave as he coughs to try as if to tell you, yes, he’s fine, but you’re not convinced. Why would he suddenly choke like that? “He is the number one hero, after all. I guess I’m just confused why he made his suit into a bunny.” You look back at the television screen. “Hey, since you’re Mr.Big Shot and you hang out with heroes, why don’t you tell him to get a fluffy tail? It’d pull the outfit together.” When you look back down at him, you're surprised.

Midoriya stares up at you with an emotion that’s akin to wonder. “I will absolutely do that for you,” he wheezes and you realize he’s shaking. Holding back laughter? You squint your eyes at him with a suspicious frown.

“...Thanks.”

——

You’re at home, lounging on the couch and watching the news with a cool drink in your hand when it happens. There’s an interview being held with Deku- someone you’ve been keeping an eye on since your request to Midoriya. There hasn’t been a costume update yet, and you haven’t seen the familiar mop of green hair since he and his friend left the cafe cackling. They were an odd pair, that's for sure.

“-I heard that you were thinking about a costume change, why is that?” Oh, fuck yes. You lean forward as you watch, the camera switching to Deku who’s been sitting down this entire time. Is- is it there…?

“Well, I was talking to a fellow hero I know, and they mentioned that getting the update might be beneficial. It’s not as much a fighting thing as it is an aesthetic choice. Would you like to see?”

“Oh- it’s already on?”

Deku grins from behind his mask. “Yes.”

And then he stands, turns around, and there it is. A fluffy, perfectly cute bunny tail. The camera pans up to Deku’s face and he winks. “This is for my favorite hero, Bean Boy.”

...oh my god. Oh my GOD.

You were so stupid! Midoriya was Deku! God- he was just- staring at you and waiting for you to make the connection but little did he know- you were an idiot. You can’t believe he actually got the tail?!

You quickly shut off the TV and curl into yourself, stewing in your embarrassment. If Midoriya was the kind of person you thought he was- he would definitely make an appearance at the shop tomorrow. He’s going to rub this in.

God, who knew that great hero Deku could be such a little shit?

——

You see him from the glass windows as he approaches the shop, confirming your suspicions. He’s here to rub it in. You grip the paper towel roll in your hand tighter.

The door opens and you throw with all your strength. Which isn’t a lot, but you’ve got good aim, and it hits him right on the head. “You’re a little shit, you know that?!” You yell and he immediately begins to giggle, throwing his arm over his head in defense. He grabs the towel roll with his free hand as he keeps laughing. “Stop laughing!” He doesn’t.

“I thought you’d figure it out the last time I came,” Midoriya lowers his arm once he realizes you aren’t going to throw anything else and he grins at you.

“And I can’t believe you told the whole world about Bean Boy. How dare you. Bean Boy is an undercover vigilante and you’ve ruined their career.”

“Have you seen the rumors?” He tosses the roll to you and you catch it easily with a loud groan.

“Of course I’ve seen the rumors. ‘Who is Bean Boy?’ ‘Deku’s secret affair with Bean Boy!’ It’s all I see on my phone.”

“You’re officially a hero! Your name is up there!”

“I told you I don’t want to be a hero,” you roll your eyes. Midoriya- if that was even his name- leans on the cashier counter and looks up at you with those gorgeous eyes of his. Sure, he's a little tease, but you can't deny how beautiful he is. Maybe that's why you didn't piece it together right away- you were to busy looking at Midoriya that you couldn't think about anyone else.

You don't know why you're attracted to someone who would wear a white tee that says "flannel shirt", but it is what it is.

“Then what do you want to be?”

You purse your lips. “I’m not looking for a sugar daddy if that’s what you’re implying- like a ‘make your wish come true if you ride me’ situation.”

A shocked laugh leaves him, his face tinging red as he smiles. You relax your shoulders a bit- because you were a little honestly worried that might be the case. Why was he talking to you still? You really don’t know. “Of course not. I just want to know more about you.”

“Why?”

“Come on, I thought you treated heroes like people,” he leans off the counter. “I think you’re interesting, like a person talking to another person. I want to know more about you.”

“Yeah, but you’re also a stranger,” you reason. “So there’s your reason for wariness. Plus, you’ve proved that you can be a dick- but whatever. I want to animate or something like it.”

His interest is piqued. “Yeah?”

“I just- want to contribute to animated movies. Be that storyboarding, or designing characters, or making the models- I want to make stories and help develop them. I’ve been drawing since I was a kid.”

“I actually drew a bit in middle school and high school,” Midoriya smiles. “I wasn’t very good. But it helped me with my hero studies.”

You hum. Abruptly, you change the subject. “So is Midoriya something people actually call you?”

He smiles. “Yes. It’s my family name.”

You can’t believe he actually gave you a bit of personal information. Whoever Midoriya is, he’s kind of a mystery. His actions are borderline unpredictable so far.

“Well, Midoriya. You want to be friends? I’ll bite. We can talk more when I’m not working, though. Plus, you don’t want to be talking to me and then have a customer come in and totally ogle you.”

“You’re right,” he nods. “When do you get off work tonight?”

You raise your eyebrows with a smirk. “Am I that interesting to you, Midoriya?”

His eyes sparkle as he grins. “Fascinating.”

Needless to say, you meet him that night at 6 o'clock.

[gwenore]

The Demon’s Opera house. Chapter 21.

Chapter 21: The masquerade begins. 

---

The large concert hall was a veritable explosion of light, music and color so much that it hardly seemed to be a part of the hedonistic feywilde rather than any place on earth… It seemed like the world of grey and drudgery for one night had been some bad nightmare compared to this world which only would exist for one night inside these doors.

Meg stared around in absolute wonder at such splendor…

Of course being a part of the opera she had seen glimpses into this world on stage… but this… it was absolutely grand…

This was the world which only so very few people would be able to partake in. Of course there was a part of her which wanted that more than she could really say… It was just so…

Wonderful.

“Enjoying the sights?” she heard Raoul’s voice from behind her as she spun around to see him standing there with a grin upon his lips.

“It is beautiful…” she said with amazement in her words.

He let out a soft sound as he nodded his head. “Suppose it is.”

“You cannot say that this is some of the most wonderful things that you have ever seen!” Meg declared as she mentioned her hand out towards everything.

Raoul looked around, again giving a shrug of his shoulder, the shoulder cape of his costume flowing with as he did so.

“Not too much different than any other masquerade…” he had seen so many through his life, having been dragged through far too many. It was a lot of fun though. But oh well…

He laughed softly as the look on Meg’s face was showing that she was seemingly deathly offended at his statement.

“But it is certainly a nice one,” he said with a soft tone in his voice, laughing softly.

This seemed to appease her somewhat and she let out a soft breath, having to roll her eyes slightly at him.

“So…” Raoul glanced around. “Has Christine arrived yet?”

Meg swallowed slightly as she glanced around, shaking her head.

“No… I have not seen her,” she said.

“She didn’t arrive with the rest of you from the opera house?” Raoul had to raise a brow. It had been a very pleasant surprise when Christine had declared that she would join the masquerade.

He hadn’t seen her much as he had been very busy with the arrangements and being practically in charge of everything. Even if it mostly meant signing off on things and shutting down some of the more outrageous ideas which came from the managers…

The peacocks would have been a disaster…

But he had seen that she was of much higher spirits than she had been in a long time. It seemed that dark sky which had been hanging over her for some time had practically vanished.

It made him so happy to be able to see his old friend like that again.

It felt like it had been such a long time since he had seen her so carefree and happy.

He could only hope that he would be able to see that often from now on, and that whatever gloom which had held her in its grasp was now banished for good.

He simply wanted to see his friend smile again… more than anything that was something that he wanted.

“She said that her tutor would bring her last time we spoke.”

Raoul perked up his head at Meg’s words. He hadn’t heard that before, she must have neglected to tell him… or not wanted him to know.

“She didn’t tell you?” Meg questioned.

“I suppose that it slipped her mind…” Raoul glanced down ever so slightly.

“There has been much going on as of late, so no wonder that she has plenty on her mind…” Meg shrugged her shoulders.

Raoul nodded his head.

“I believe that you are right in that,” he said with a soft laugh, though he could not keep from feeling rather… uneasy.

He couldn’t explain why he felt like that…

But there was something in the air which… which told him of a dark foreboding. Raoul wasn’t used to feeling this way.

In fact a criticism which had often been levied against him was that he was far too frivolous in his cares and only saw the bright side of the world rather than its harsh reality.

But now…

In this splendor where it should be so easy to simply enjoy the grandeur of it all… he felt as a dark shadow had entered the place.

Come to think of it…

It had usually only been something that he had felt around the opera house, but… he had always chalked it up to the fact that it was a rather eerie building.

At times he wondered what on earth the architect must have thought when he made some of the decisions that he did.

No wonder people believed that he had been influenced by some sort of demon.

Of course Raoul knew that was practically laughable, but the man was clearly not in his right mind. A genius perhaps, but a mad one.

With the fact that he had hung himself on opening night were enough proof to say that the man was very troubled indeed.

Still… he had no idea what had come over him. Perhaps he should find himself more to drink… even if he wasn’t entirely certain if that would do him any good, but it might just take his mind off things and allow him to enjoy the evening.

That was something that he felt was sorely needed at this point.

“There she is!”

Raoul had been so lost in his own thoughts that he practically startled that hearing Meg’s voice breaking through his fog.

Turning around he saw her, dressed up as a most magnificent angel in shimmering white and silver fabric, him able to see two small wings just peaking out from above her shoulders.

Her face was hidden by a feather decorated mask with silver beading and together with her golden hair she did truly look like an angel…

More so than words could really say.

Raoul could not help but to be absolutely enthralled by her.

However… part of what made her shine so bright was the man by her side who was the darkness to Christine’s light.

He was tall and lanky and all dressed in a blood red which looked even darker next to Christine offset by a dark mask which covered most of his face which curved into two long black horns.

“Mephistopheles…”

The name seemed to fall out of Raoul’s mouth.

No doubt this was the figure that his brother had seen that time in the opera house. If he was dressed like that it was no doubt that his brother would say such a thing…

Then again his brother had said that he only had one horn and that it wasn’t attached to the mask.

In fact his brother had been unable to figure out how it did attach as he still would wonder about that all this time later.

Perhaps that was an earlier version of this costume… though that admittedly didn’t make all that much sense as the masquerade had not yet been discussed at that point. Or perhaps it had and Raoul hadn’t been told about it yet.

Though that seemed almost impossible as it seemed strange that Firmin and Andre would speak about that with some musical tutor… whom he had never once heard them name or speak about at all… before the one that they had to ask for money from.

Then again… who would walk around dressed as the devil without there being a reason for it?

Raoul still felt absolutely lost, but… he knew that there was something off about this man.

Hell… if someone could be confused for a demon… he did not doubt that he would be a good contender for that…

Again… Raoul hardly believed in any of that…

“Hmm… at least we will finally be able to meet with this mysterious… tutor…” he said as he moved over towards where Christine and this mysterious man was standing.

  Christine was feeling as if her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest. Erik had led her out into the another part of the maze next to the chapel that they had been living in that she had never been before.

It was impossible to see anything in there, and it was clear this was how Erik got around town. She wondered if it was part of the Parisian sewer system… but she didn’t see much in the way of water… at least in that area…

They seemed to have been going up at least and they then came to a door which Erik opened showing that they were in an alleyway rather close to where the masquerade was being held.

“It is as close as we can get… there is a bit of a walk… will you be alright?” he asked, even with his mask she could see concern in those red eyes.

“My legs still work Erik. Besides most are walking from the opera house or other places, not many can actually afford taking a wagon that work there,” she pointed out.

“Still… you deserve to be taken in the grandest of wagons… not sneaking around like this…” Erik muttered mostly to himself.

Christine shook her head. “I am perfectly fine. But come! we have a wonderful night ahead of us!” she exclaimed as she took his arm and led him into the hall.

  Inside Erik had to take a deep breath. He had never been among so many people before. Before this… he had only been able to watch from afar…

Now he was in the middle of everything and that… that was something which he had never thought he would be ever able to do.

He gritted his teeth slightly, feeling a bit frustrated at this human world which he had always been shut out from due to the circumstances of his birth.

Feeling the young woman pressing his arm against her body that frustration only grew.

He knew that he was not able to give her anything of what she deserved. She did not complain… she certainly was not the type to do that…

But to think that she would be so deprived by being with him.

Still… at least he could give her this night at the very least.

To see how her blue eyes sparkled in amazement and that smile on her lips…

He wanted to give her more of that. Oh, how he wanted to bask in the sunlight of her smile for an eternity…

He would never need the sun if he had that...

Christine could not really believe what she was seeing… this place… it was so magical…

The lights… the people… the colors! The sounds!

It was… magic. That was the only way that Christine could describe what she was seeing before her.

There was something exciting about everyone hiding behind a mask… which was the very reason that the man beside her was able to be here.

But… with someone like Erik being able to hide behind a mask… what else were hiding in this place?

Christine could not imagine that demons were a common occurrence, but… if it happened once… then it could happen again. Moreover if demons existed did that not mean that angels did as well?

What of all the other beings which she thought were only myth until now?

She wanted to ask Erik, but had a feeling that he would tease her for her curiosity… besides… did Erik know?

She supposed he would, at least better than most, but…

It wasn’t as if his father had been in his life to teach him these things so…

It would make sense if he didn’t.

Still…

Christine knew that she had to ask.

She glanced over at said man, the mask covering his face. She could not see his expression and how the rage which was branded on his face.

In this moment, Christine could feel nothing but joy… oblivious to the reason that Erik was burning hotter than usual.

It was a warning which would come back to haunt her.

“Oh! There is Meg and Raoul!” She exclaimed excitedly. Erik let out a low sigh. He had noticed Raoul a long time before she did, his very presence a sting to his own soul.

Still… there was not much which he could do about this so he just gave a graceful nod towards it.

“Well…” he then murmured. “Suppose we should give our greetings.”

Christine swallowed. “Are we certain that is wise?” she questioned.

Erik let out a sigh. “At this point… I believe it to be our best option if we wish to avoid even more questions coming your way,” he explained to her.

Christine nodded her head. To avoid her two best friends would without a doubt make them ask questions as to the nature of her relationship with Erik.

They already did after all…

Avoiding them… that she knew would not end well.

“Then…” she said with a nervous tone to her voice. “Let us go greet them…”

[sensenoi]

Rating Every Single Name of the Wind Cover

Why? Because I can. I am not a graphic designer, just a person with opinions. 

Criteria for consideration: Must be a cover in a published edition of The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. Hardcover, paperback, and ebook are all fair game, as are foreign language editions. Some editions reuse the same cover art, in which case I only rate one cover. Some editions modify cover art from another edition. If the differences are substantial, I’ll rate both.

Kindle March 2007 Edition

Ah, the famous shirtless redhead cover. This cover is a bit infamous in the fandom for being both bad and cringey. This is not good art. It’s cheesy. The shirtless aspect is silly, and the windswept hair is so windswept, you’d think Kvothe was in a tornado. Nice balance with the title and author text, although it looks like the title and author text are slightly off center.

3/10

Hardcover April 2007 Edition This is just a zoomed in crop of the above cover, which is a little lazy. It does make for a better cover image, except the creepy goat man bust has nothing to do with the plot of Name of the Wind. So I suppose they cancel out.

3/10

Mass Market Paperback April 2009 Edition

I despise this cover. It’s a lazy design, and the photo manipulation is terrible. Points I guess for good title text placement. But the photo manipulation is so! So! Bad! This is also the start of the trend of a hooded, cloaked figure with his back to the viewer staring out into the void. It is a bad trend.

2/10

Paperback UK June 2008 Edition

We’re still with the hooded, cloaked figure, but at least he’s facing front this time. I like the embellishment on the ‘W’ in the title text, although it gets a little pumpkin viney. Overall, it’s an ok cover. It doesn’t make me cringe, but it doesn’t grab the viewer’s interest, either.

4/10

Paperback Spanish May 2009 Edition

Same image as the previous cover, but this one is uncropped and has a different plant border. I’m not sure how successful the changes are. On the one hand, shrinking the image of the figure makes the figure look more mysterious, which is good. But on the other hand, this is a bad plant border. I thought there was some corn on the right side for a minute.

4/10

Hardcover 10th Anniversary October 2017 Edition

10th Anniversary edition got fancy, and it shows. I love the ruin influence in the title text, which is a great callback to the use of ruins in the novel and also a more creative and unexpected choice than making the title text leafy. That being said, the “of the” in the title text is very oddly formatted and doesn’t fit the style. The cover illustration is pretty great, with lots of symbolism for old fans while still maintaining visual interest for new readers who are browsing and happen to pick the book up. The Cinder statue is delightfully creepy and much more relevant to the novel than the dumb pan statue from the earlier cover.

9/10

Paperback Turkish March 2007 Edition

Another trend starting here: Cloaked figure staring out at a city in the distance. I like the painting, at least what I can see of it. I find the choice to crop out most of the painting really bizarre. Is this supposed to be a telescope we’re looking through? And the leaves look like lily pads. The title and author text leaf embellishments are quite nice here, but I don’t know why there’s a metallic color shift. Overall, a poor use of space.

4/10

Hardcover German March 2007 Edition

Oh look! A cloaked figure staring at a city. What a surprise. I rather like the title text design, which is pretty creative and a good way to make the title visually appealing. I wish the city in the painting weren’t so damn faded and distant – I think it’s a mistake to keep the visual focus on the figure exclusively and only hint at the city beyond.

6/10

Paperback Portuguese September 2009 Edition

This cover is terrible. I would say the worst, but there’s more still to come. Anyways, this is incredibly bad. We’re once again with the hooded, cloaked figure with his back to the viewer, which is a lazy and uninteresting pose. The image is badly photoshopped and looks like an alternate movie poster for The Blair Witch Project. There’s nothing interesting about the image, nothing that interests the viewer. The title font isn’t boring, I guess. That’s the only good thing I have to say about this. 1/10

Paperback Portuguese July 2009 Edition

Still another cloaked figure staring off at a distant city, but this is one my favorite versions of this trope. The city is far enough in the middle distance that the figure is the main focus, but we can still see enough of the city to see that it’s cool looking. I’m glad to see the bridge from the books, which is a nice detail.  The title text does a good job of filling in the empty space of the painting without crowding the other elements.

9/10

Paperback French November 2009 Edition

This is the same cover image as before, but it’s been cropped so that the figure is centered. I don’t like the change – the balance is better when the figure is off center. Also, the title text is way too big and dominates, which is unfortunate because the Spanish cover had such a lovely balance throughout. 7/10

Hardcover Dutch July 2007 Edition

Yet. Another. Hooded figure. Staring. At a city. Wow. This one has a tree, at least. The image is… fine? I might be kinder to it if I hadn’t seen several better iterations of this right before. Because so much of the image is shrouded in fog, there’s very little to go on in terms of visual interest. And while I don’t mind the shadowed, muted color scheme, it also means that there’s very little to distinguish the cloaked figure and make him intriguing. The shadow initials behind the title text is horrific and obscures the title somewhat, so docking a couple of points for that. 5/10

Hardcover UK January 2017 Edition

Ahahahaha. This looks like the My Neighbor Totoro edition of Name of the Wind. It’s very silly and lighthearted, but wholly inappropriate for a book whose reading level is above first grade. If this was a kid’s book, I’d give it full marks. But Name of the Wind is very much for adults, and this cover is way too young and childish.

1/10

Paperback Polish August 2008

YIKES. I cannot figure out which scene or location from the book this image is trying to evoke, which makes me think the cover artist did not have the book or a text excerpt to work from. What the hell are those weird horse skulls? Why is this taking place in a desert? Why is the texture so bad? So many questions. And the effect on the title text is bad.

0/10 YES WE CAN GO LOWER THAN 1

Hardcover Russian 2010 Edition

This looks like the cover to a Dungeons and Dragons manual. I suppose that’s supposed to be from the Dracchus scene with Denna, but the image doesn’t look quite right for Name of the Wind. It’s just so generic fantasy. I also don’t like how the image is cropped top and bottom to make way for a very generic marble background. Still, the image is colorful and exciting, even if it could be the cover for any fantasy novel ever.

5/10

Paperback UK 2011 Edition

What the FUCK happened here? Who let this shit happen?

-10/10

Hardcover Finnish August 2010 Edition

Ooooh, more Miyazaki fanart! This is actually quite lovely, and it fits the tone of the books much better than the kids book cover from before. I love how soft and gentle the painting is. Notice the color balance. I don’t know if this cover really ‘grabs’ you or draws interest, but it’s one of my favorites of the bunch.

10/10

Paperback Bulgarian October 2010 Edition

I reserve the right to change my opinion later, but this may be the worst contender in the cloaked and hooded figure from behind category. I actually had to double check that this wasn’t a reused image from the mass market paperback edition, but nope! This is a brand new cover image, and it’s absolute shit. The lighting is so dark it’s impossible to make out details, the balance is way off, and the cover and title text are placed over the figure (aka the only object of interest) instead of the boring, generic storm clouds.

0/10

Hardcover Lithuanian 2011 Edition

YIKES times two. This cover art is truly awful in ways I didn’t know could still happen. Kvothe’s face looks ‘off’ because the facial proportions are all wrong. The blue mystical katana is bizarre because there’s no magical sword, much less a katana, in the story. And is that a photo of Stonehenge in the background? With yet another hooded figure?! I do like the gold foil of the title and the golden dragon embellishment, but the rest of this is such shit.

0/10

Paperback Serbian February 2011

And we’re back in the safe territory of a cloaked figure staring off at a distant city! All these covers are starting to run together, but this is a new cover art. It just looks like all the others. Once again, it’s fine. The city is a little too distant and greyed out to hold interest, and the figure is kind of generic.

5/10

Paperback Italian 2008 Edition

I do not know what happened here. Who is this figure supposed to be? I cannot for the life of me figure out which character this is. It’s a shame, because it’s well-done art with a cool character and costume design. The title and author text obscure the image, though, and the shadow on the text is so extreme it’s hilarious.

0/10

Hardcover Hungarian 2009 Edition

This is just boring. There’s no information conveyed here, nothing interesting or arresting to attract the viewer’s attention. The translucent overlay on the title is an odd choice.

2/10

Paperback Persian 2016 Edition

I believe this was originally a fanart of Kvothe (correct me if I’m wrong please), but it’s a good one. The tree shadow in the back is distracting and obscures the handle of the lute on his back, though. I wish there was more here – it feels very spare in an unintentional way.

6/10

Hardcover Georgian 2016 Edition

Cloaked and hooded figure staring off into the distance, check. I’m not crazy about this one – the art is very soft in a blurred kind of way, and it reads as a little humdrum. The tower in the distance is quite dull – it looks like a modern office building.

4/10

Hardcover Italian October 2016 Edition

The title text is a little too high – I don’t like how it covers the figure’s chin. It’s not a bad idea to make Kvothe’s green eyes a focal point, and it’s certainly more of an original idea than most of these covers have shown. But the muted color pallete drags the whole mood down. It’s not evocative, just kind of damp.

5/10

Hardcover 10th Anniversary French November 2019

I LOVE this cover. It’s gorgeous. I love the gold foil, love the text, love the clouds. It’s stunning and timeless. Amazing.

10/10

Hardcover Latvian October 2013 Edition

It’s a cloaked figure with a city in the distance, but he’s NOT looking at the city! What!! I’m rather surprised at how few covers feature Kvothe actually playing the lute – this may be the only one, actually. I don’t like the bottom fade, and I think the design is a little generic fantasy. But it’s a nice balance, and the title text is fancy and eye-catching.

7/10

Paperback Polish 2017 Edition

This cover artist also clearly wasn’t working off an excerpt from the book. The character design is so off and unlike Kvothe, except for the cloak. Wall texture looks like a photo manipulation, which is cheap. This whole thing is bad.

0/10

Hardcover Russian 2015 Edition

What is with the Stonehenge imagery? And why is that guy floating off of Stonehenge in a modern hoodie? Why is that one leaf in the top right so huge? Why is the title text red and difficult to read? At least there’s a broken lute, I guess.

1/10

Paperback Chinese May 2012 Edition

This is incredibly lazy and the photoshop job is terrible and generic. Zero effort was put into this cover.

0/10

Hardcover Russian 2011 Edition

I’ve been pretty harsh on Russia, mostly because the Russian covers have been terrible. This is ok-ish. It’s very generic fantasy, and the castle looks like Hogwarts. But it has visual interest, even if the title text color is garish.

2/10

Japanese 2017 Edition

I quite love that they turned Kvothe into an anime character. And he’s doing stuff, too, and not just staring out into the middle distance. There’s so much imagery of the broken lute in these covers, so it’s refreshing to see the other part of this scene – when Kvothe loses his shit and finally calls the name of the wind. Fun cover, good artwork. The red title text works here because it matches Kvothe’s hair.

9/10

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