#the first four are from when I was saving them as pgs rip

[ridingtorohan]

Content: Spoilers for AC1-3 and the events surrounding Lucy. A paragraph pushes it to PG-16 with reader lamenting wanting Desmond with direct references to the below verse. AU: Alpha/beta/omega verse Alpha Desmond, Omega female reader. Cross-links: ao3 A/n: Written 2018, formatted but not edited 2022. This first section is written non-linear.

Desmond had been something of an urban legend back at the Farm- he wasn't someone you knew personally, but now was someone you couldn't imagine being without. Surviving the Eye didn't change that fact- but it leads to something else.‏‎

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ WHAT LIES WITHIN YOUR EYES ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ part I (you are here) ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ·❆· ※───

It had only taken two days for them all to reach a general agreement about the place. William had held initial reservations about the Manor and Shaun had all but complained the entire way there. Rebecca had spoken earnestly about the idea, voice chipper as she twirled the headphone cord around her index finger with a face-splitting grin. Desmond hadn't particularly reacted to the suggestion- but nobody really pressured him into giving one either.

The Davenport Homestead hadn't felt particularly welcoming - but only in the sense that it was unlivable, hostile to everyone by proxy. Every other building other than the Manor was rundown and barely more than splinters held together by nails, a crude mockery of the fine establishment it was supposed to be. It also felt like home though, enough like the Farm that the three of you had once lived on, with the wooden walls and trees that dotted the horizon, so thick it was a wonder that it hadn’t overtaken the buildings itself.

It was almost hard to believe that the Manor still stood as it did, forgotten by the civilized world as it was. Your lessons spoke of the siege during the 1920's that ripped the Assassins from it. As Desmond traced his fingers fondly along the stair railings and the faded paintings in the basement, you found your tongue stilled. You wouldn't do anything to hurt him and with part of his mind still living as Connor, it might not have turned out well for him if you brought it up.

Connor was the reason why you all ventured there - he had never left the Homestead, not even in the end. Where else did he have left to go? Rebecca swore up and down that the Templars weren't interested in the place since the siege and even Shaun begrudgingly admitted that as a former Assassin stronghold, it would be able to support them. William had relented and admitted to wanting any artefacts left behind but you had a feeling that it more likely had to do with Desmond. You all had agreed to be there for Desmond.

Desmond was … different since the Temple.

All of you had expected him to die - and each time you think of it the fear clogged up your throat and made your hands clammy. His resoluteness was the worst of it - even back at the Farm he had been calm and flippant but that had been something different. None of you spoke of it - of how he almost hadn’t made it out alive.

Somehow, he had saved the world. It was only right that the four of you saved him. When one was haunted by ghosts, the ghost had to be put to rest. Connor's body would help with that - all the missing years from his daughter's conception to his death.

What the four of you couldn’t tell was if it did help more than hinder - Desmond had been quiet since they arrived, barely gave more than one-worded answers or a shake of his head. You had all opted to leave him be and while you didn’t know what it was like to be stuck inside your head, not to the degree that he was, you didn’t leave. Not too far anyways.

You wished you could say that you had always been close with Desmond - that you had always looked up to him and that you only knew the concept of love through him. The truth of the matter was far from it. As a boy years your senior, he was in a separate training class from the Farm. Even then, there was the matter that you weren’t really from the Farm. From a sister branch, your family moved there to help pater out the bloodline and prevent too close of inbreeding. Assassins tried to teach the people of the world and the truth of it, but it is a hard and bitter pill to swallow and not many acclimate to the lifestyle.

No, you hardly knew Desmond. You met him once. Before. He had been a withdrawn boy even then, pock-faced and pudgy but from your limited interactions with him he had never been unkind to you. Your memories of him were foggy at best.

Months and years after the fact, Desmond became something of an urban legend at the Farm. They spoke of rebellions against his father, of a short temper and quick comebacks. He had been the only one foolish enough to leave. In the end it was later transcribed to be bravery.

Desmond told you once of what Juno and Minerva offered him - save the world or damn the world. How the world would have burned but the lot of you would have been safe, trapped in a place separated from the rest of Earth by time and otherworldly constructs. They’ve lied once before, he had said and in the same breath, I couldn’t be a leader to anyone. And that was enough to know that he had thought about it, even for just a moment.

You had thought of how he had been the first to leave from the Farm of their own volition. How the Assassins tried to tail him and lost him somewhere in Kansas, something perceivable due to lack of credentials but no small feat compared to how many Assassins came after him.

Desmond had been the first but he hadn’t been the last. The rest of the younger members took a chance of their own. Stories came back that some were captured and tortured for information or lost at sea, the fact remained that he had started a revolution of his own. His kindness had not gone amiss at a desolate place like the Farm. Even before his ancestors had left their imprints on his mind he had been a leader. He just hadn’t realized it.

You hadn’t told him that, not when he had looked at you with woeful eyes. Self-belief was a difficult thing to nurse.

Some days, it wasn’t Desmond that spoke to you. The horrible thing was that it was difficult to tell when the slip happened. On occasion he would slip into another language and the lot of you would work to soothe him out of the Bleed, but other times none of you had caught onto it until he would have a slight misstep and fumble or even dazedly ask what happened. Those were the days that you would end up holding his hand or sitting close to him, fingers always a constant on his skin when you could. There was a sense of dreaded hopelessness about the situation where all you could do was reassure him of his own presence there - his name in every other sentence or a newspaper detailing the events. Anything to keep him in touch and rooted here with you.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he had kissed you. Perhaps it was his own fumble with reality, his own tightened grip on his sanity. Certainly not one of his ancestors at any rate - there was enough tentativeness to not be Ezio, it simply wasn’t like Connor to do that, and from what you knew of Altair he wouldn’t have kissed you like that, it would’ve likely just been another task for him. You had sworn it was Desmond who did, who leaned down and breathed you in and pressed his fingers to the back of your nape and tilted your head up.

Desmond hadn’t been your first love, hadn’t lain out that foundation for the rest of your life. You had every bit of belief that he would be the last. What you felt for him was slippery - intangible and messy and so horribly painful and bright. A thunder in your veins and the tension in your skin - it was easy to get lost in him, to believe with full conviction that you would not object to anything that he wanted.

The problem was that Desmond did not want easily. You both knew the Farm - knew of how easily and firmly its own code could constrict someone. You hadn’t known you had been a prisoner of a cult in near everything but the walls and name until you had left with William.

It hadn’t been much of a choice on his part - you were one of the few who hadn’t left after Desmond, let alone died on the initial rescue mission. The Creed advocated for freedom but it was difficult to believe in it when it encroached upon everyone there, where the only law you followed was the Tenets that still stood.

Desmond was a pushover to an extent. Even with all the rumours that followed after him after his departure, all the rebellious streaks that was supposed to have happened … it all seemed moot when in comparison to the young boy that you had known. He had followed after his father in the end, had gone through the rigorous training and submitted himself to that way of life. Until he hadn’t anymore. But even then, he had hung low and out of sight, only caught by a foolish mistake. He had been admirable in that, that he had lasted for years without being found out by the very people who specialized in stealth.

He had not objected to the Animus though, hadn’t uttered a word of regret or denial concerning his own impending death. You could recall his resolution back in the Temple, his tired voice and knitted brow. Even as he faced death, he had not turned his back on it. Every time he was told to get in the Animus, he eventually did. He hadn’t even protested when they all came to the Manor the second time, when Rebecca had brought it up to him.

There was nothing but the sound of silence and snow in the stillness of winter. There was no other choice, not when they had made it and followed through on it. None of them were keen on traveling once snow blanketed the ground. Spring was still a few months off especially in the frontier. Desmond had a tendency for cabin fever from what you knew, had reportedly been out of sight every night back in Italy. He had been adamant about leaving to face Cross and Vidic himself, to collect the power sources and carry on his way.

Desmond had sworn he wasn’t capable of being leader and yet the four of you had agreed willingly. William had come as a surprise to you given his accompanied alpha status, the very same as his son. The fights that you had witnessed between the two of them hadn’t been pretty. Desmond had wanted to confront Vidic. Shaun and Rebecca had no conflicts about it in the end, resigned themselves to the best option.

You hadn’t spent long in the field yourself, could not argue that this wasn’t the best course of action. Your work was better covering your tracks and finding signals on the web - all proven moot when in comparison to the likes of Rebecca. You hadn’t been worth much now that both you and William had met up with the group but while it had been the two of you it had suited the both of you just fine.

Somewhere along the way, the five of you had unwittingly become a pack, had every dynamic of one that completely functioned. Lucy had been the alpha of the last one, the head of the group. Here, it had fallen to Desmond and he wore it exactly like how he settled into his genetic memories. Easily and seamlessly. Even with your heart in your throat, you had offered no protest to him going to Abstergo.

You had cared for Desmond in your own way, had admired his steadfastness and determination until he had nearly killed himself for it. Your first introduction to him was to a boy with a face with a frown and the second was to someone equally as desolate. His sleep had not been peaceful, comatose and unresponsive to the world.

“Get him in the Animus” William had said and Desmond was strapped in. Even when the Animus went on the fritz and tried to deny his mind, when he had outright flatlined more than once, he had remained strong. When Desmond chased after Vidic, stood tall on that skyscraper, mic attached to his shirt, you could hear the wonder and awe in his voice. While you couldn't see his face, you could see what he did. Despite the grainy feedback, you saw where he stood at the end of everything.

It’s it beautiful? He had said. With your heart permanently glued to the inner lining of your throat, you had agreed. Desmond had stopped to admire the view and you had done it with him. Until it had been time to go, time to kill and move on and go go go go go.

None of you could stop, not even for a moment, not for some sight seeing or to catch their breaths. But the memory had implanted itself in your mind, solid and true. You had understood then why Desmond had left. And when Desmond took a Leap of Faith afterwards, you had inadvertently fallen with him.

Desmond had not forgotten your agreement. Even when everyone else had ushered him to hurry on, you had spoken in positive response. Even when the threat of the world hung around all your shoulders - and the doom it had spelled for him - he had pulled you aside on the rare occasion that he had been lucid and handed you his phone.

“You had liked the view too,” he had said with a worn smile and half-lidded eyes. It was not something that you had easily forgotten either. You were all but deftly reminded of his unfailing kindness and selflessness then. How he had taken the time to take a picture just for you.

“Thank you,” you had said. It was almost all that you could. He had smiled, something far more genuine that only solidified the feeling in your chest. He had clapped a hand to your shoulder and was ushered back into the Animus.

The situation between you two had shifted then. Because alphas and omegas were historically known to generally get along you had to endure nearly a dozen of Shaun’s ribbing comments already. It had been senseless banter and shameless teasing before, implications present in the edge of his voice. It was not something that could be ignored anymore, not anything that you wanted to let go of.

You didn’t want to replace Lucy, nor could you properly. She had been an alpha. You had known of her importance to the group, how hard her absence and betrayal had hit them. William hadn’t tried to replace her, even as another alpha he could sense her own placement there.

Lucy was a sore subject, a soft whisper if even that. You knew she had been close to Desmond but the truth hadn’t hurt before. If you could even call this feeling hurt- you couldn’t envy a dead woman, couldn’t chastise her for her own wasted opportunities and lament about what could have been between the two of them.

But in a way, you had taken her spot. She had tended to Desmond and now you did. The wedge between you - the wall formed by your arrival with his father had began to dismantle. Desmond didn’t necessarily need to be cared for, he could stand on his own and effortlessly carried the weight of the entire group. The admiration you had felt for him shifted since the phone, since returned to him so he could fiddle with it and record some audio clips you believed, had settled into something warmer and more wanting.

You couldn’t help him entirely, not in the way that mattered most or most effectively. You would like to believe it had been enough.

You were not entirely obtuse in your feelings for him - Rebecca had eyed you plenty a time over the edge of her computer. Shaun for his part had tried to arrange it so that the both of you were together. William pretended it wasn’t happening and perhaps for that alone you were thankful. Desmond, in his own way, had not remained oblivious either.

Rather, it had been Desmond-as-Ezio who had caught on. As Rebecca had told you, Ezio was a flirt through and through. While Ezio knew the ways of sex like the back of his hand, he knew love even greater. He had always fallen hard and fast. You had known it was Ezio at the forefront of Desmond's mind by the way he had watched you and curled his vowels.

Shaun had translated once, had remained stone-faced for far longer than you thought he would, before he said that Ezio suggested you tell him. “I have known love and I have lost it,” is what Shaun had translated. “Do not lose your chance.”

Time waited for no one. When Desmond had stood before the pillar and said his goodbyes, begged them to leave, to let him be to his fate, you thought to ask him to stay. Desmond pressed his phone into your hand and pulled you into a hug in the same motion.

He smelled of alpha-sweat-blood-dust-cold metal-whiskey-cinnamon-home-home- home. You hadn’t wanted to let him go. “I should have kissed you,” you whispered out. Instead, Desmond had let go of you - and leaned in to do exactly that.

Hours later, when the rumble of vehicles threatened overhead, their position compromised, you all struggled to gather what you could. You all had left him there to stand before his end. The end of the world had not come - but neither did Desmond leave. Time was wasted sitting there, incapable of mobility after most of your items had been packed - none of you had wanted to touch Baby, not yet. You feared you would still feel his warmth there, that if you so much as touched anything that belonged to him you would break down and cry.

Desmond had came out of the Temple and you had done exactly that anyways. “It didn’t need to be me,” he had say in way of explanation, eyes a swirl of that familiar glint of gold before he blinked, voice full of disgust, rigidness, and resignation. “It was my blood. It has always been my blood.” Then he had tucked himself in the back of the van right next to you and pressed his chin to the flesh between your shoulder and neck.

He Bled regularly as you drove along. William cursed up a storm each time he regressed and you could only clutch him tighter each time that he did and with every harsh motion of the van. You had almost lost him. You all had.

Even if you all hadn’t tried to Bleed Connor out of his system, the drive back was well worth it. The tires hadn’t survived and all of you had cricks in your neck but it had been enough. The Manor welcomed you all well enough but Desmond most of all.

Perhaps it had been the Connor inside of him that reacted, that still saw it as his den. Unlike his other ancestors, Connor had no proper pack of his own, not outside of his children, Achilles or even for that odd encounter with Shay. He had found solace in the Manor and so had Desmond.

William spoke of leaving after spring, of reports about a modified Animus and how Abstergo hunted one of their own. You had read the reports yourself but you had Desmond in your mind’s eye and so that was all that William’s comments had remained - comments. Even as an alpha, he couldn’t dictate what the pack chose. No one dared speak of going their own separate ways despite what the eldest seemed to imply.

Even with nearly two years as William's accomplice and with a reliable bond, it couldn't compare to what you shared with the others. William had not asked you to leave with him though, not then. For all that he had done wrong, from what you knew, it was a saving grace. You would not have picked him.

Connor was never an aggressive presence with Desmond though. The younger Altair, when he bled through, was a downright terror and an equally as young Ezio was too rambunctious, Connor had never mucked up much trouble. So when each Animus session with Desmond that lead him closer to the end that was written for Connor, you had seen less of him. It had been almost February when Desmond had whispered into your skin with a slur to his words, “He’s still there. Just resting.” Desmond ended up telling the others but you had been the first.

William eyed the van then and you had seen Shaun’s mouth form words of his own to comment but Rebecca had only smiled and clasped her hand to Desmond’s own. “You’re doing good, Desmond.” And he had softened and sent her a smile of his own and everything seemed right in the world, a little more sturdier.

Desmond did not want easily. He always put everyone else’s needs above his own, always followed their rules and their dictations. Even lost in his own world he obeyed the commands rigorously trained into him. He still chose his own meal if given a choice, still wanted to watch a surprisingly high quality movie on Rebecca’s computer with you - but he didn’t contribute to the discussion of where to go and what to do. He had fought so hard for his own life and it was barely with a fumble that he slipped back into that same old mold.

You remembered the day of when he had been found to have disappeared. How it had happened without warning. Ages past the fact had twisted the story, had stated that he had been found missing and his mother had crudely screamed and woke the whole household. The stories went that he had rallied up a small group of fellow recruits and taken a few with him after burning down an old outhouse. That he had threatened to leave numerous times before and successfully done it and that he would leave for good. That he took a car and blasted out of there with the radio on full blast.

You remember the truth of it. It took near four hours after wake up for anybody to even notice. It wasn't unusual for Desmond to venture out to the forest or to go horseback riding. There was no screaming or crying fest, nobody hollered or threw things. You knew well enough that Desmond and William had fought the night before. There had been no border patrols or guards or even gates.

He had simply walked out and never looked back, hitchhiked and bussed as far away as he could. Nobody had expected for one of their own to walk out - hadn’t expected that anybody would want to. Desmond had already been gone long before he had run away, it was just a matter of his physical body getting the memo.

It had been a quick and quiet affair with nary a word from him then. While you doubted that he would leave the four of you there, that he would so quickly up and leave, you knew well enough that history repeated itself. Desmond’s genetic memories proved that time and time again. You feared that the man you loved wasn’t the one you thought he was.

So every so often, when that same feeling niggled at the back of your mind, you went looking for him.

You found him in Connor’s old room. Relief had came in with a sloppy tidal wave. A shudder passed through you the moment you stepped through the doorway.

All of you slept in the living room, had set up that room to be the most hospitable during the cold months. The fireplace had kept you all warm enough and if it hadn’t, Desmond would be there at your back, holding you to his chest. Even then, there were moments like these that he was separated from you, far away both physically and mentally.

He turned towards you at the sound of your cleared throat. Shaun’s words from Ezio haunted you. You almost lost him. “Desmond?” you asked, voice shrill in the slow trickle of the air. You sneezed twice at the dust that floated around. He had drawn a mattress up there and even placed it atop the bed frame still present. Not Connor’s, you knew, but old enough. You touched your hand to his blanketed shoulder.

“Yeah,” he sighed and ran a hand up his face. “It’s me.” It … hadn’t been what you were going to say, let alone ask. You frowned.

“Why are you up here alone?” you whispered. The bed creaked beneath you as you sat beside him. His blanket was drawn up around his shoulders, huddled around his head like a hood. There was an edge of sleepiness to his eyes and a few creases around his mouth, bruises beneath his eyes. Desmond hadn’t slept well since Abstergo, since the first Animus session. That or it was literally his genetics. He has been tired long before that.

Desmond let out a slow exhale of air. Not quite a sigh. Desmond never sighed. Your frown deepened. “I’m thinking,” he confessed, eyes not on you. He’s focused at something on the wall. You almost thought there was a painting there once, a long time ago. His focus slipped and he instead shifted his hand to rub at his eyes. “Didn’t realize I spent so much time up here. Are you doing okay?”

You thought about how to answer that. For someone who had the whole world on his shoulders, you’d almost have hoped that he’d take some time to himself. You retracted your hand to tug at his own, to stop his restless fingers and to soothe him with small strokes of yours across the back of his hand. “I’m worried about you,” you said truthfully.

“I’m okay.” The reply hadn’t come as quickly and selflessly as you thought it would. There was no conviction in the words. Your fingers stilled. His flesh was so warm, so present - you didn’t want him to leave you. But you didn’t want to be selfish either, didn’t want to cage him down. “I’m about ready to go. Dad was saying something about Egypt, I think.”

“You listen to your dad?” you joked, eyebrows raised. There was a soft huff of an exhale from him, never quite a laugh but almost. Almost.

“I try not to,” Desmond said with a light tone of amusement. He turned his hand around, palm against yours before he twined your fingers with his. He let out a hum of consideration, mouth twitched at one corner. It was the most display of emotion that you had seen from him in quite a while.

“I don’t think he appreciates that.”

“Yeah, probably not. But he can deal with it,” he quipped back just as easily. You reflectively sent him a smile and the tension eased out of his arm, hand going lax against yours. He was always so tense, so rigid, so prepared for the worst to come yet. You hoped that wasn’t the case - you’re not sure you could handle the rug being pulled out from beneath the both of you.

Desmond’s smile stilled at the sight of your frown and with another exhale he let go of your hand to grasp at the corner of his blanket to drape across your shoulders too. It meant that you had to draw closer towards him, not quite sprawled into his lap as you would have hoped for but at least hip to hip. Not even that was necessary. You just liked to reassure yourself that he was there.

You echoed his exhale, drew it out into a sigh. “How are you really, Desmond?” There was a slight twitch in his eyebrow at that, at the pronunciation of his name. His expression lacked confusion though which was more comforting than you had expected.

“Tired.” His posture wavered and you worried he’d pitch to the side but instead he just pulled you closer towards him, one leg draped across his and his shoulder almost awkwardly pressed against your sternum. It was usually a hesitant fumble between you two to find an appeasing position for the both of you and eventually he settled to wrap an arm around your waist and let you rest your head against his chest. “We aren’t … happy with how things have turned out here.”

You stiffened against him involuntarily. ‘We’. Desmond had a penchant of referring to all the memories and voices inside his head as a collective ‘we’. Rarely did he refer to himself in the singular tense. It was just fortunate that he had been referring to himself for the most part.

Desmond drew away from you - and despite your initial thought, it wasn’t to get a better look at your expression. He drew a couple pillows from the headboard, shot a load of dust through the air in the process and positioned it up behind himself. He tugged you down beside him as you dragged the blanket with you and made sure to toss it over his socked feet, tucked your knees closer towards your body and curled towards him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Desmond let his hand rest along your head and began to casually thread his fingers through the strands. There was a frown present on his lips again, deep enough to pull the scar across his lip tight. There was a shadow of a beard on his jawline, dark against his skin. He looked so aged from this position. You wanted to ease his burden.

“Achilles had entrusted this house to him,” Desmond spoke up finally, something sharp and jagged in his voice. His hand had stopped all motion in your hair. “It was-,” a pause as he searched for the right word, a violent lurch of his eyebrow as he knitted it and a hot breath of air from his nose before he relented with, “Connor’s house. When I was in the Animus, I - as Connor - had helped repair it. We had built this place, the entire Homestead. It was made by my hands - to see it like this...” His voice trailed off into silence.

There was a vacant glaze to his eyes, a ripple of uncertainty and fractured lifetimes. Desmond may have been with you in the room and that may have been his heartbeat beneath his hand but he has left you alone all the same.

“Desmond.” It was on the fourth time that he turned to face you, a couple pronounced blinks to his gaze as he seemed to focus on you. You raised your hand from his shirt to his face, cupped his jaw and let your thumb rest along his cheek. “Desmond, what you and Connor built was … was amazing. It still is. It’s just a little run down, that’s all.”

“It’s forgotten.” The impact behind his words had you falter for a moment. He didn’t say anything after that but he waited all the same. You bit your lip, wondered how much time he would give you to think of how to respond to that, to the tone of his voice.

“This is more than just about the house, isn’t it?” you asked him. Desmond didn’t immediately respond but his eyes didn’t trail from your face, insistent on staring into yours as he processed it. He closed his eyes, lovely brown obscured by the dark of his eyelashes. His head settled deeper against the pillow.

“Connor lived and died in this house. His wife lived here with him until she left. She took the kids. Connor had nothing left. Nothing but an old rocking chair and this house. And now here it is in ruin.” You wondered then if he would cry, if this would be what finally broke him.

You had heard that he had been unhappy when Monteronigirri had perished to flame and blade, when little to no one had been spared. You wondered if the memory was buried somewhere deep inside him, if it settled there as an unscabbed open wound. If it pestered him day in and day out. Ezio had years to get over the tragedy, if he ever did. Desmond didn’t have the luxury. It was still a fresh ache to him. To reopen the wound with Connor and his unlucky end ... 

“You remembered it,” you told him. “You’re here right now. Connor isn’t alone because .. he’s with you. You’re with him, and I’m with you. We’re all with you, Desmond. We’re not going anywhere without you.” You were firm to implant his name there, to affirm his hold on reality. You all had thought that if he relived Connor’s memories it would help soothe the Effect, that Desmond could go back to the life that he had before, that he could live unhindered and unburdened by it. Anything for it all to be easier for him.

“My Dad talked about Egypt,” there was a slight scoff to his voice. (I’m losing him.) “Why don’t we just go? I’m just holding you all back, this isn’t anything-”

“No.” You moved both hands to cup his face and he stared at you with impassive eyes. Desmond has not wanted much. He gave up a lot before, to get all of them to the end, to get them knowledge otherwise lost. He was willing to give it all up again with just a word. He would. “You’re keeping us all together, Desmond. We’re your pack, don’t you understand? Yours.” You leaned up to kiss him and your knee knocked against his before you settled your leg on the other side of his waist. He didn’t respond at first, let you pepper his face with kisses. Gradually, he seemed to react, upturned his face to return the gesture, to press his lips against yours. His hands settled along your hips, thumbs pressed into the clothed skin there. Your mouth lingered a fair deal more but it was him who dragged his tongue across your lip, had you shudder in response.

You could feel him smile against your skin, felt the uneven skin of his scar catch on you when you allowed him at your throat. You could feel a pattern begin to emerge in the light rubs of his thumbs, something almost like dialect. His kisses were slow, languid and light, a butterfly touch if you had ever felt one. You let out a breathy sigh of his name and he paused then.

“Desmond?” you prompted him and sat back on your knees, a leap in your chest, worried that you had overstepped a line.

“Just thinking,” he promised, a few seconds too slow. There was an upturn to his mouth, an appreciative look in his eyes. His hands hovered along your hips though and you knew that there was no use pushing your luck.

Desmond would likely relent if you pushed him to have sex with you now, if you begged him with a breathy tone to let you take his knot but you also knew that his heart wouldn’t be in it. That he might not want it. You couldn’t push him like that, you didn’t have it within yourself to.

“You think enough for four people,” you said pointedly and made sure to throw in a grin for good measure. You threw your leg off of him, tried not to let your disappointment surface in your scent. He had your neck exposed to him, he had already likely caught your arousal and anticipation in it alone. You weren’t disappointed in him though, never him.

“Hm,” there was a lighter turn of his mouth then, something pleased and adoring in that gesture alone. Even though he just had his tongue in your mouth and his lips and fingers on your skin, it was his smile that made you flustered. Go figure. You averted your gaze, tried to ignore the wider spread of his lips. “Definitely smart enough for four men.”

You swatted your hand against his chest as you collapsed next to him, made sure to draw your legs tighter together before you tugged his arm down and settled down against it. “Definitely,” you relented. Desmond’s look was appreciative and genuine, fond to the very end. “Or at the very least ripped enough for them.” You reached out a hand to pat against his stomach and then there was the laugh that you missed so much.

At some point, Shaun had started a running joke about Desmond being pudgy. He had been in his youth, sure, but most children were. Being on the run and doing a bunch of parkour promised at least some muscles. You grinned wide enough for the both of you when he rolled onto his side, albeit with a little bit of struggle with his trapped arm beneath you.

“Thank you,” Desmond said after a moment. “For trying to help.” You shifted enough for him to draw his arm out and he flexed his fingers experimentally, a falter to his earlier cheer as he stared at his hand. The very hand that he had supposedly clasped onto the Eye.

“Of course.” You told him. You leaned forward to press another kiss against his lips, let it linger and rest against the swell of his mouth. He inhaled your exhale and let his lips move against yours, calm and pleasant. When he pulled back, it was a wonder you hadn’t confessed to loving him. It would have been terribly easy. But the truth of the matter was despite your fear and insecurities, you knew that you had nearly all the time in the world - and isolated in the Manor as your pack was, it very well could have been.

Suddenly, you knew, that if this was what the end of the world had been like, you’re fairly certain you wouldn’t have minded at all.

[horizonzerodawnaesthetic]

Sunwing

I will fly with no hope, no fear And the ground, taunts my wings Plummet as I sing

[luxshine]

Y yo a ti, Cas -segunda parte. Because of course Mexican Cas pulled us out of despair and can throw us back in.

Ok, so the last 24 hours have been a bit of a rollercoaster and now I have another post to write about how dubbing is made. Because I love Misha a lot, and I respect him but… the whole rouge translator thing just doesn’t jive with reality.

Now, first of all I want to make a disclaimer: I do not believe that there’s a conspiracy to keep Dean closeted and away from Castiel. That makes absolutely no sense, no matter how you slice it. Among other things, conspiracy implies intent, and I really doubt the CW, Warner Bros and everyone involved in the marketing choices cares that much. At most, I think that there was a misunderstanding of marketing/PR and now people are doubling down on trying to pretend it didn’t happen. But a conspiracy? Nope. This isn’t THAT important, and it would require a LOT of people involved to make things work.

Which is precisely why the rouge translator thing doesn’t work. Because you would need a conspiracy to MAKE Destiel canon in order for it to be real.

Second: As I write this, I still don’t have an answer from the voice actors. But rest assured, WHEN they reply (or we can organize a panel so YOU guys can ask directly), I will tell you the absolute truth. If I am wrong with my assumptions, and it WAS a rouge translator, I will let you know, and I will admit I was wrong. And if it was from the audio (say, a Jensen adlib) or the actual script? I will also let you know.

Third: I don’t doubt that Misha REALLY believes the rogue translator thing, if it was told to him by TPTB. There’s no reason to believe he knows how dubbing works in Mexico, nor how many people check the final product. Or that he even watched the episode, instead of believing it was a fan clip. Also, I respect him immensely and I don’t want any hate send his way.

That said, let’s go into how dubbing works, again.

For the sake of argument, I will start with the idea that yes, there was a “Rogue translator” who decided that THIS was the perfect moment to make Destiel canon. Not, say, Season 8 when he could have translated an “I need you” from Dean into an “I love you” when the god tablet thing happened, not in season 12, or during the purgatory prayers. No, the best moment was two episodes before the finale, when he had to know that Cas was not coming back. 

And yes, the translator knew Cas was not coming back because when we translate series, we get them in packages of 5 episodes or more at the time. So they must have had 15x16 to 15x21 (The interview special) all together. So they knew that this was Cas’s exit from the series.

Now, in my previous post I said how in the old times, we used vhs tapes and paper copies of the shooting scripts (when they were available that was not always). Now a days, we get the video file and a word document (if we’re lucky. If not, we make the word file). Translate everything. Go through it AGAIN to make sure the lip sync matches and that we don’t have huge speeches when there’s a small window of time to say the speech because of the language differences. Check that we didn’t accidentally used a slang word that only Mexico would understand. If the show is not PG-13, make sure our swearwords are not too bad or too localized. THEN we send it to the studio, which prints about four copies of the script and hands it,and the video, to the Dub director.

The dub director then goes and re-watches every episode, while checking the script. Some directors don’t speak the language, so they’re just checking cadence, time, and the damned lip sync. (And if you, as a translator, don’t match the lip sync? You are either back to training or out of a word if you get too many strikes). So sure, you could slip a change of line there, IF the director doesn’t speak German, or Japanese, or Hindi.

But almost every single dub director speaks English. So a change from “Don’t do this, Cas” to “And I, you, Cas” would be noticed then and there, and changed to the right line. Which means that, for the rogue translator thing to work, we’d have to add also a rogue dub director.

And honestly, do you see a professional dub director with more than 15 years of experience (because you don’t give a series to a newbie, and Supernatural had the same dub director for all it’s run) risking his job for ONE line?

Anyway, in the times before the plague dub actors were called in groups to the study to record, in order to save audio tracks. So, for example, all the Inner Senshi would record together when doing Sailor Moon, and I assume in Supernatural, Sam and Dean’s lines would also be recorded together, while Dean and Cas might have been or not. Depending on times and so on. So you’d had at least 3 people in the studio: Dean’s VA, the dub director and the sound technician. ALL of them checking what was being said, what was in the script, and listening to the original audio.

Some actors would also make corrections to the script there, making some lines easier to read, and, again, checking those damn lip letters (Can you tell I HATE the lip letter thing?) . I remember fondly the VA for Sailor Jupiter, Araceli de Leon (RIP), who was known as “The Corrector”, since she would go through ALL the scripts for everyone with a red pen. The day I handed a script she didn’t find any corrections, I was jumping out of joy. So if 15x18 was recorded AT the dubbing studio? Someone who knew English could’ve caught the difference between the “Don’t do this” and the “And I you”, making it harder for our rogue translator to go unnoticed.

But let’s say it was recorded post-quarantine, when voice actors work alone at home, in their own private sound studios. I have no idea if they would have the director at hand through zoom, but I assume so. In any case, the VA would STILL have the original audio to know how the lines were said, and after 4 years of dubbing Dean Winchester, I will assume that the VA knows at the very least a little bit of English so if his script said “And I, you Cas” but he heard Jensen say “Don’t do it, Cas”, he would’ve made a correction there.

That’s now two people who would have to ignore the rouge translator’s actions, and even help them, in order for this theory to work.

And then the audio goes back to the director, who checks it again, makes sure it is lip synced and well acted, and sent to the audio technician who mixes it all, and now we have a THIRD person who could’ve said “Hey… uhm… this line? Is not what it says in the original” and by this time, we’d have to have a conspiracy to keep that “And I, you, Cas” in the final product.

Which brings me to person number four: Once the dubbing is done? It’s reviewed by the client (In this case, WB Latam), who gives the final say and CAN ask for redubs if necessary.

Story time. When I was doing this for a living, I got a series that had the WEIRDEST line ever. A line that made me triple check I was hearing things right (because it was a damn adlib that I couldn’t check with the script)

It was: “I’ve been listening to jazz even since I was a sperm swimming in my father’s testicles”.

So yeah.

I was a pro, so I didn’t censor it or change it and send it as it was to the director. Who OF COURSE called me and asked “Are you 100% sure that’s the line?” (This was in Japanese, and he didn’t speak Japanese. He trusted me). And I said “yeah, but if you need to change it, we can find another way to say “I’ve been a Jazz fan since before I was born”. “ He, Jack bless him, said “Nah. If that’s the original, let’s keep the original”.

The client was NOT amused and we had to change it in the final product.

Now, this was a throw away line by a secondary character that never appeared again in the series, in a small scene that probably only I remember. And the client still said “Nope, change that”. I’d like to believe that a line that changes the relationship between two main characters would have the same, if not more, scrutiny from TPTB.

Which makes now four people who would have had to either ignore the actions of the rogue translator, or actively participate in a conspiracy to make Destiel Latam canon.

Which, I dunno about you, sounds like way too much effort for something that was going to last for exactly one second before Cas got sucked into the Empty.

Someone made a mistake? Probably. But I am more willing to bet it was whoever sent the master video file to the studio than the dub studio, if that line wasn’t supposed to be there.

[mldrgrl]

Would You Lie With Me and Just Forget the World?

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: A little ‘what if?’ AU during Fight the Future, if Scully had gone to Salt Lake City.  Inspired by the wonderful little poem Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.  (Sweet midnight, Anon, I think this fits nicely with your prompt as well)

“Salt Lake City, transfer effective immediately.”  She hesitates in his doorway for only a moment, and then she turns to leave.  “I have to go.”

His head is spinning and his heart is racing.  He springs up from his desk to chase her down, to stop her from leaving.  He makes it to the hall, but all he can manage is her name.  She stops at the elevator, her back to him.  He sees her ball her hands into determined little fists and the way she takes a deep breath and straightens her spine.  When she turns, the wobble of her chin and the tears in her eyes threaten to break the composure she’s just worked so hard to muster.

There’s an ache in his chest.  He wants to tell her everything in that moment; how much she means to him and how much he needs her.  He’s as afraid that she’ll think he’s only talking about their work as much as he’s afraid she’ll know he isn’t talking about work at all.

“Is this...is this what you want?” he asks.

The elevator doors open up behind her and she turns away from him to step inside.  He moves a few steps closer and then she turns around again and he stops.  She only gives him a glance before bowing her head.  The doors close and he’s alone in his hallway.  He doubles over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.  It feels like he’s been kicked in the gut.

With Scully sent to Utah, Mulder is reassigned to counter-terrorism.  He hates it.  Hates the work, hates the other agents in the unit, and hates his new superior.  They’ve got him chasing down suspicious purchases of fertilizer and harassing confused farmers day in and day out.  Shit detail.  He’d quit, but he doesn’t like the thought of how smugly satisfied They’ll be knowing he had given up.  Easy as it would be to search the directory for her new information, he doesn’t even contact Scully.  Nor does she contact him.  He doesn’t drive by her old apartment and he takes her number out of his speed dial.  He refuses to be broken.

He lasts six weeks.

Six long, torturous, miserable, and painful weeks and then he’s at the airport one Friday afternoon, booking the next flight out to Salt Lake City.  For four and a half hours he gorges himself on tiny bags of peanuts and shreds his cocktail napkins into tiny pieces on the tray table in front of him.  He rents a car and drives the few miles to the field office in the area, solely relying on hope and a hunch that she’ll be there.

His badge gets him in the door without issue, but he can’t go aimlessly wandering the halls.  He stops a woman pushing a cart, assuming she’s a mail clerk that will know every office blindfolded.  Luck is on his side.  When he asks where he can find Agent Scully, she tells him to take the stairs down one flight, third door on the right.  He takes a few deep breaths in the stairwell and wipes his sweaty palms on the front of his pants before he heads down the hall.

He passes a janitor’s closet and a storage room.  The third door is missing a real nameplate.  Someone has scribbled SCULLY onto a piece of lined paper, ripped that in half, and taped it to the empty slot where a nameplate should be.  The door is open, but he knocks anyway, just a few light taps with his knuckle as he enters.

Scully is hunched over a small table in the corner, squished between a bookcase and filing cabinet.  The room is cold, dimly lit, and not a window in sight.  It’s barely bigger than a broom closet.

“You can take the girl out of the basement,” he says.  “But, I guess you can’t really take the basement out of the girl.”

Scully blinks as she looks up and drops her pen on the table.  She looks the same to him, but changed somehow.  Her eyes, he realizes, look grey.

“Mulder,” she says.  “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.  Thought I’d check out the new digs.”  He looks around.  He bets if he stretches his arms out, he’d be able to touch both sides of the walls.  “Please tell me this is just temporary while they renovate the corner office for you.”

She doesn’t answer, just looks down at the papers on the table and begins collecting them into a neat pile.  Watching her gather her things in this pathetic excuse for an office, he feels like his heart is being squeezed in a vice.  She doesn’t deserve this.

“What’re you working on?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she answers.  “Reviewing autopsy reports.”

“Can I take you to dinner?”

She checks her watch and glances past Mulder to the door.  He turns to see what she’s looking for, but there isn’t anything there.  She’s nervous, he realizes, but he doesn’t know what for.

“Or maybe I should go,” he says.  “I didn’t mean to...catch you off guard.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, softly.  “It’s been a long week.  Do you mind if...we could order in.”

“Sure.”

He scans her bookshelves as he waits for her to pack up her satchel.  Nothing but textbooks on forensics and pathology, some of them with cracked, ancient binding.  She turns the light off and he follows her down the hall and up the stairs.  She pauses for a moment and waves a file folder in her hand.

“I just have to…” she says.

“Take your time.”

She nods and knocks on the first door to the left.  He hears a mumbled conversation and nonchalantly steps into the view of the open office.  Scully is in the antechamber of another office, passing the file folder to a woman who looks like she just sucked on a lemon.  Her disdain is more than obvious and Mulder wonders what it’s about.  For a fleeting second, the woman’s eyes meet Mulder’s and her expression turns from sour to suspicious.  He turns his head and keeps moving past the door to wait for Scully.  She comes out a few moments later with her eyes forward and doesn’t look at him, doesn’t wait for him as she heads to the exit.  He follows a few paces behind.

“You drove?” she asks.

“Got a free upgrade to a Toyota Corolla,” he answers, waggling his brows at her.  “Riding in style around the Beehive State.  What was the deal with the wicked witch of the west back there?”

“Things are different here.  People are...different.”  She turns her head and a slight breeze ruffles her hair.  He almost lifts his hand to brush it out of her eyes.  “I’m over there.”  She points to the left of the parking lot.  “You can follow me out.  It’s not far.”

“After you.”

He watches her walk away.  The tired slump of her shoulders and bowed head is depressing.  He doesn’t even have to see her face to see how sad and defeated she is.  He’s angry with himself for waiting so long to come to her.  He should’ve been on a plane immediately.  He should have never let her go.

The drive to her apartment is only about ten minutes.  The building is compact and lacks character, bland and beige and ugly.  Next door is an empty lot of dirt and shrubs and a clear view of the highway.  He hopes the interior makes up for the exterior.  His hopes are dashed as soon as he steps foot inside.  It’s even worse.

Her apartment is a studio with ancient appliances and worn carpet. Clearly, it came furnished with pea-green, threadbare chairs and a pull-out couch.  He doesn’t recognize a thing.  What little she does have is still in boxes, pushed up against the walls and stacked to make as much room as possible.  They’ve stayed in nicer motels throughout the years.  He hates everything about it, but especially that this is what she’s been calling home for the last six weeks.

“It’s temporary,” she says, watching him look around.  

“You don’t deserve this,” he replies.  

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“It’s over, Mulder.  You need to accept that and move on.”

“Move on?  Are you serious?”

“What do you want from me, Mulder?  The files are destroyed.  The OPR was quite clear that there’s no hope of ever reinstating the department.  I’ve been exiled to what’s arguably the least friendly, most backwards and misogynistic field office in the country, which I’m sure was intended to break my resolve somehow.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“If I quit now, they win.  I don’t see you walking away.”

The defiant tilt of her chin ends the debate.  He nods in agreement and shoves his hands into his pockets in frustration.  She’s right, as usual, and he hates that she’s right about this.  But, he didn’t come here to argue.  He takes his hands out of his pockets and swings them awkwardly for a moment.  He wants to touch her, but he doesn’t.

“I need you,” he says.

“You don’t need me,” she whispers as she sinks down and perches on the edge of one of the chairs.  “You never have.  I just held you back.”  For a few moments, she holds her face in one hand and rubs her temples.  When she looks up, her eyes are heavy and tired.  She blinks and then her eyes well up and she looks down at her lap, picking at the skin along her thumbnail.  

“You’re wrong, Scully.  You are so wrong.”

“Why did they assign me to you, Mulder?  To rein you in.  To shut you down.”

“And you saved me.  Your goddamn strict science and rationalism have saved me a thousand times over.  You kept me honest.  You made me a whole person.  And I’m not...”  He pauses and swallows hard against the tightening in his throat.  He’d built up his courage and come out here to tell her all the things he’d held back, but fear has a merciless stranglehold on him and steals his voice.

She looks up at him with her brows furrowed and he kneels down in front of her.  He puts his hands on her knees, palms up, and she automatically slips her hands into his as if they’ve done this a thousand times.  He bows his head over their hands for a few moments and then looks up and gazes openly into her eyes.

“I’m not just talking about the work,” he says.  “When I say I need you, I mean you are the other half of me.  You’re right, they’ve taken everything from us and I’ve spent these last weeks being furious and disgruntled and railing at the injustice of...we were so close, Scully.  We were on the verge.  But...but…”

She squeezes his hands and he bows his head again.

“It’s not the work I want back,” he says. “It’s you.”

She chokes on whatever reply she’s about to give and then lowers her head so her forehead rests against his.  He pulls his hands free of hers and wraps his arms around her, nearly pulling her from the chair and into him.  She hides her face against his shoulder and both hands slide over the back of his head and through his hair.

“What do we do?” she asks.  “I know you, Mulder, you’ll never give up.”

“I’m not giving up.  The only thing I know for sure is that I’m not leaving here without you.  Everything else...I don’t know.”

Her fingers tighten, pulling gently at his hair.  He leans his head against hers and they stay that way until finally she picks her head up and stares at him.  He brushes his thumbs along the crescents beneath her eyes, damp with tears.  Her lips part even before he leans in as though she anticipates his kiss.  He whispers her name as their mouths meet and her whimpered reply makes the six weeks away from her worth the lost time.

When they pull back, maybe minutes or hours later, there’s a mixture of shock and awe in Scully’s expression and Mulder can’t help the lopsided and goofy grin that pulls at his cheeks.  He can feel every muscle in his face lift in happiness and then Scully smiles as well.  She’s the first to look away, glancing to the side at the pull-out couch and then biting her lip when she returns to his gaze.

Like most things, they don’t discuss the next step.  Mulder gets up and takes Scully’s hands to help her from the chair.  They empty the couch of cushions, stacking them in a little space next to the arm that she’s designated as the holding area, and then they unfold the bed together.  They remove blazers and shoes and belts, but come to an unspoken agreement that that’s enough for now.  Cuffs and collars are loosened for comfort and then they lay down facing each other, nose to nose, Mulder’s arms around her and Scully’s arms folded between them with her hands on his chest.

They take turns pressing soft kisses to one another’s face; her cheek, his brow, the side of her nose, his chin, the back of her jaw, the corner of his mouth.  Things escalate slowly and gradually.  The lazy circles Mulder makes against Scully’s upper back move lower until his hand rests lightly at the hint of a curve below her hip.  Their legs shift and twine.  Scully moves one hand to Mulder’s side, fingers tugging unconsciously at his shirt.

The bed is surprisingly comfortable, not that Mulder would notice if it wasn’t.  It does squeak though with nearly every move they make and they can’t help laughing at the absurdity every so often.  He can’t believe the anger and heartache he’s been holding for the last six weeks has evaporated so quickly into joy.  He can’t believe he’s here and that they’re doing this.

And then things simmer and slow and then they’re back to where they started, nose to nose, albeit a little more entwined.  He could be afraid she’s changed her mind or that this isn’t what she wants, but he isn’t, not with the way her fingers play at his nape or the way she moves to trace his lips every so often with the pad of her thumb.  No skin has even been uncovered and yet he feels more exposed and naked than he ever has been, and he’s not afraid of that either.

“What do we do now?” she whispers.

“Got any good Chinese takeout around these parts?”

She smiles and brushes his nose with his.  He shifts and sighs and they both tighten their hold on each other, just a little.

“I don’t know,” he says.  “You should...be a doctor.  Go be a doctor while you still can.”

“Maybe one day I will be.  But, you haven’t found the truth yet and I have my own questions that need answers.  I have...my own injustices that need to be resolved.”

“You wanna go rogue?”

“I’ve been out here for the past six weeks thinking that I didn’t want to burn bridges.  I thought maybe if I kept my head down, stayed below radar, I’d earn the chance to come back.”

He nods.  “How’s that been working out?”

“Not very well.”

“I’m at the end of my rope, Scully.  Tell me you feel the same.”

She slides down and curls herself up against his chest.  He makes a shelter out of his arms and curves himself around her in return.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says.  “Just maybe not right now.”

“Thank you for coming after me.”

“I’ll always come after you.”

“I know.”

They fall asleep twined like a yin and yang; two halves, one whole.  He’s needed respite from his crusade for so long and tonight he has it.  Tomorrow, they’ll form a plan, but for now, they’ll lie together and just forget the world.

The End

[justcallmehitgirl]

Good Woman Part 1 (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: Peter Parker can be a bit of a peeping Tom.

Warnings: voyeurism, exhibitionism, smut, suit!porn, and language

Word Count: 3200

A/N: I’ve been on a roll lately, and this just happened. Point of view switches between Peter to Y/N so hopefully it’s not too confusing. I don’t condone spying on people, but suspend some reality for this fic please. 

(5/7/20): I fixed some typos, grammar mistakes, character inconsistencies, etc. from my original posting. I also made some stylistic changes.

PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN / STORY PAGE 

He knows he shouldn’t. He feels downright sleazy. He’s the friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man. He’s someone that people admire and look up to. He’s an Avenger. But he’s also a seventeen-year-old hot-blooded male who can’t keep a boner down when a PG-13 sex scene pops up on screen.

It’s a dilemma Peter faces on a cool September night, the crisp air sending a shiver down his spine, as he peers inside your bedroom window. His eyes are fixed on you—lounging on your bed in nothing but an oversized shirt with your smooth legs stretched out in full display. The glow emanating from the TV screen illuminates your face, highlighting your features.

Peter is well-aware of your reputation at Midtown. You’re smart, pretty, and a tease—barely giving any attention to the boys at Midtown. You didn’t date (save for that one short-lived summer fling that became school-wide gossip), you rarely went to parties, and you never stayed out past curfew. You are, and have always been, way out of Peter’s league.

He’s known you since elementary school, silently observing you throughout the years even though you were in the grade above him. You've always been nice and polite to him, though. You always said “excuse me” when you brushed past him in the hallways, and you always gave him a small wave or smile whenever he accidentally made eye contact with you.

Peter has no idea if you even know his name, but he likes to think that you do.

He swears it’s a coincidence that he found your window. He had randomly swung by and landed on your fire escape to take a quick breather after stopping a petty theft down the street. He was about to leave when he spotted you from the corner of his eye, your presence taking him by surprise.

And as usual, Peter couldn’t stop himself from staring.

—

His heart beats rapidly as he stares at you sprawled across your bed—eyes glued to your TV, head propped up by a mountain of pillows. You let out a yawn, face contorting, with your arms stretched out above your head. Your shirt rides up, revealing a pair of black, polkadot panties.

Peter gulps, imagining his hands pushing your shirt up higher to expose more of you.

He swallows hard, knowing that this is an absolute abuse of power. He knows he should leave, but he stays rooted in his spot. 

He continues gazing at you until your eyelids begin to droop, body relaxing against your mattress. Your mouth parts slightly while your chest rises and falls evenly.

Peter thinks you look like a princess in a fairy-tale. 

He imagines running his fingers through your hair and tracing patterns over your soft, bare skin. He imagines the feel of your plush lips pressed against his while his hands roam over your body.

He frowns and glances away. He knows that it will never happen— girls like you didn’t give guys like him the time of day.

He hangs his head and exhales, quietly cursing himself under his breath. He starts to stand, but he senses movement from inside your bedroom. He crouches back down and cocks his head, eyes flickering with curiosity.

He takes in a sharp breath while his jaw practically drops to the ground. He gapes at you, pupils dilated, as your hand moves down your stomach and grazes the waistband of your underwear. He leans forward, feeling his cock instantly harden underneath his suit. He bites back a groan as he watches with building intensity as your hand disappears beneath the thin, cotton fabric. 

Your back arches off the bed—fingers frantically moving over your clit, knuckles straining your underwear. Your body writhes, and you let out a soft whimper. You roll your head to the side, facing him. 

He watches your face scrunch up in ecstasy. You bite your bottom lip, and your eyes flutter open. 

Peter’s breath catches in his throat; he knows he’s fucked.

—

You blink, eyes adjusting. You immediately pale, eyes widening at the shadowy figure pressed against your window. Your heart lurches in your chest. You quickly rip your hand from your underwear and scramble off the bed. You stand on wobbly legs, bottom lip trembling as fear grips throat.

You step backwards until your body hits the wall, eyes frozen on his form. You cower against the wall and try to will your body to make a run for it. You size him up, taking in every detail even though he was bathed in shadows. 

The figure holds his hands up and frantically shakes his head, his movements almost pleading.    

You blink once, then twice—just before your eyes go wide with recognition, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s Spider-Man.

You want to feel relieved. You’re well-aware of his superhero reputation—saving the Academic Decathlon team in D.C. and taking down Liz’s dad. But despite his prior good deeds, you continue to eye him warily. You had no idea who was underneath that mask, and your mind races through the possibilities—from a 30-something-year-old pervert to a deranged psychopath preying on high school girls.

You start to move towards your door—back still pressed up against the wall for support. He presses a hand on the window, almost begging for you to open it. You tilt your head as you start to wonder how long he’s been out there—and how much he saw. You shiver at the thought of him watching you, skin tingling. 

You pause at your reaction, and your curiosity begins to gnaw at you.

You know you should run out of the room; maybe call the police or the national news while you’re at it—expose Spider-Man as being a total creep. 

But another thought pops into your mind—one that sends a tingle down your spine.

You nibble on your bottom lip. You're known as being such a good girl—always coloring within the lines and following the rules. Your life has been dictated by your professional aspirations. You’ve spent your life carving out a respectable reputation as the responsible daughter, dependable friend, and exemplary student. 

But at seventeen, you already felt weighted down by the pressure and expectations.

You seldom take any risks—always choosing the same ice-cream flavor, shopping at the same stores, and sticking to the same hairstyle. You even broke up with your first—and only boyfriend—because he tried to inch you too much out of your comfort-zone.

You suddenly feel a wave of exhaustion. You’re tired of feeling like you’ve been merely ambling through life and not actually living it; tired of being safe—of being just the good girl.

You slowly push yourself off the wall and step forward.

—

Peter knows he should leave, but he feels frozen in place. He watches you slowly pad across the carpet towards him, an unreadable expression on your face. You carefully push the window open, and he braces himself for your wrath—expecting you to yell at him or shoo him away.

But instead, you simply press a finger to your lips. He gawks at you, feeling dumbstruck. You wave your hand, motioning for him to come inside. He gulps and tentatively crawls through your window.

Once he enters, his senses are immediately assaulted by your scent. His eyes dart around the room, quickly taking in his surroundings—from the pink and purple hues covering the walls to your frilly bedsheets.

He looks over at you as you quietly shut the window close behind him. You turn to face him, eyes flickering with and nod towards your bed. He silently obeys, his body stiff as he takes a seat on the soft mattress. 

He eyes you warily, almost afraid of what you’ll do next. You sit beside him, your body facing his side with your legs folded underneath you. He turns his head, and watches you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and lick your lips. You scoot closer until your knees are lightly brushing against him, causing him to blush.

You slowly reach over, your fingers lightly grazing his gloved hand before taking it into your own. You splay your hand over his, your eyes fixed on his hand engulfing yours. He merely stares at you as you quietly play with his fabric-covered fingers.

“This is a strange material,” you murmur, eyes cast downward at your entwined hands.

He hesitates before clearing his throat. “It’s durable. . . and tear-resistant. It’s waterproof too.”

You look up, eyes sparkling. “You sound younger than I imagined,” you muse.

“You aren’t scared of me?”

You give him a half-shrug. “No, not really. I just. . . didn’t really think this far ahead.”

“I’m sorry for being a creep,” he blurts.

You shake your head. “Only a little creepy. . . d—do you do this this with a lot of girls?”

He immediately straightens. “I don’t! I—I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never been a peeping Tom or you’ve never seen a girl touch herself?” you tease. 

He hesitantly mutters, “Both.”

You purse your lips and pause, cheeks turning pink. You tilt your head. “Are you a virgin?” 

Peter bites the inside of his cheek and looks away. He quickly ponders whether he should tell you the truth. As Spider-Man, he can say anything he wants—be whoever he wants.

He looks back up and opens his mouth, but your doe-eyed look gives him pause. He merely nods in response.

“Me too,” you breathe. “It’s not a religious thing or anything like that. I just haven’t found the right person to do it with.”

You look down and continue playing with his fingers, twisting and entwining them with yours. 

“I feel pretty silly right now,” you whisper. “You probably thought I was some experienced sex goddess or something when I invited you inside. Instead I’m just pathetic and lonely.”

He frowns. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re amazing.”

You look up, brows raised. “How would you know that? You don’t even know my name.”

Peter flinches, inwardly scolding himself. “I mean, you seem very. . . put together,” he mumbles.

Your mouth twitches before you let out a soft giggle. “Inviting a stranger into my bedroom is the exact opposite of being put together, don’t you think?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles lightly.

Your eyes roam over his covered face, smile fading as your eyes burn with curiosity. “Do we know each other?”

Peter stiffens, jaw tight. You look at him inquisitively, waiting for an answer. He knows he should tell you the truth—ripe it off like a band-aid. But instead he just frowns and shakes his head.

Silence fills the room again.

“I wish I could kiss you,” you blurt.

He tenses. 

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I’m sorry. . . just forget I said that.”

Peter quickly breathes, “Okay.”

Your eyes widen. “R—really?”

He lets go of your hand and clutches the bottom of his mask. He hesitates slightly before lifting it up right underneath his nose, revealing his jaw and lips. 

You gulp. “You have very nice lips.”

He gives you a crooked smile. “No girl has ever said that to me before.”

“Well I guess tonight is a bunch of firsts for both of us.”

He nods in agreement.

“I—I’m going to kiss you now,” you announce. It sounds more for yourself than for him, he muses.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

Your hand cups his cheek, your breath softly caressing his exposed skin. You lean towards him and tilt your head. His heart pounds as your mouth hovers over his.

Peter feels a surge of confidence and closes the space between you, pressing his lips to yours. He closes his eyes, feeling electricity move through his veins as he kisses you. He’s never felt more alive. 

Your soft lips kiss him back, and you slide your hand to his neck to tug him closer. He pours everything he has been feeling for so many years into the kiss. He wishes he could tell you how long he’s been wanting to do this. 

He pulls back and smiles brightly. “Wow,” he breathes.

Your eyes flutter open, pupils flared. Without hesitation, you surge forward and kiss him with so much fervor and passion that that he thinks he’s going to pass out. Your tongue traces the seam of his mouth, and he parts his lips to welcome your probing tongue. 

Peter pulls back and trails wet kisses down your chin to your neck. You tip your head back and moan. He grips your waist and swiftly lifts you up onto his lap. You settle on him.

“Oh,” you cry.

Your face flushes, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth, his hard bulge pressing against you—separated by his suit and your panties. You grab his shoulders, anchoring yourself as you begin to move over him, movements slow and tentative. 

He splays a hand on your back while his other hand tentatively plays with the edge of your shirt. He pushes it up, and you gasp as his gloved hand touches your bare stomach. 

“Is this okay?” he breathes against your neck. “Should I stop?”

You place your hands on his chest, and he lifts his head up. You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head in one fluid motion. He leans back, mouth falling open while his eyes hungrily drink in the sight of your bare chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurts.

You bite at your bottom lip and blush. He reaches to brush a knuckle just under the swell of your breast. Your body trembles slightly as your lashes flutter. He licks his lips, sliding his hand over your skin and smoothing his thumb over your nipple. He cups your breast and squeezes softly while an airy gasp tumbles out of your mouth.

He leans forward and swipes his tongue over your other breast, lips closing around your nipple. You whimper as he sucks it softly into his mouth while he tweaks the other between his fingers. He licks at your skin, and you let out a breathy whine. 

“P-please touch me,” you beg, sliding his hand down towards your pussy.

He eagerly pushes your soaked underwear, dragging his fingers over your damp folds. He lets out a strangled groan, his mouth watering as your slick coats his fingers.

“I didn’t know it could be this wet,” he says in awe. 

He slides his fingers up and down your slit until his thumb finds your clit. He presses on it, and you let out a soft sigh.

“There?” he asks, and you fervently nod. 

He starts rubbing your clit in steady strokes, eyes glued on your face as he studies your reactions—making adjustments to the pressure and direction depending on your expression. Soft moans fill the air as you continue grinding on his covered cock, your movements increasing with need. You claw at his shoulders, your breathing growing more and more restless.

“I—I’m almost there,” you pant. 

He circles his thumb faster over your clit, and you start to tremble. You bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your cries as you tip over the edge. Your body spasms relentlessly, legs quaking.

You shudder in his arms and breathe heavily. He presses kisses on your naked shoulders and pulls his hand away from your clit. He holds you close as you come down, wilting in his arms. 

“Was that good?” he whispers.

You lift your head up and look at him, eyes half-lidded. “You did amazing.”

His mouth curves in a wide smile. He reaches gently caresses your cheek. “I can’t believe you’re even real.”

You rub his jaw affectionately. “I feel like I know you from somewhere,” you murmur.

Peter swallows, smile faltering for a moment. He quickly forces a small chuckle. “Of course you do. I’m your friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man.”

You roll your eyes and snort, “Right."

He presses his lips against yours, the kiss soft and slow. He pulls away and glances at the clock on your nightstand. “Shit,” he frowns. “I have to go.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth and nod. You lift yourself up off his lap, taking a step back to bend down and grab your discarded shirt. You slip it over your head and toss your hair over the collar. He rises from the bed and tugs his mask down over the rest of his face. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you follow him to your window. 

“Will you come back?” you blurt, pursing your lips.

He faces you, cocking his head. “Y—you want me to?”

You bat your lashes and nod enthusiastically in response. 

“Then I will,” he says softly. He crawls out the window, feet landing on the fire escape. 

“Hey Spidey!” you call out, and he whirls around. “Knock next time, okay?” you wink, eyes sparkling.

He chuckles softly and nods before turning to disappear into the night. 

—

Back in his bedroom, Peter lies in his bed, his arm folded underneath his head as he stares up at the ceiling. He smiles to himself, body buzzing with excitement, thinking about the next time he’ll see you. He lifts his hand up and eyes it closely. He chews on his bottom lip, basking in the memory of all the things that his hands did with you—to you. 

He may be Spider-Man, but he knows tonight was all Peter Parker. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might not be totally out of your league after all.

[purplehairedwonder]

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 3

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3597 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Violet, Donquixote Doflamingo, Baby 5, Trebol, Diamante Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he’s 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law can’t help but resent Monkey D. Luffy for offering a glimpse of something he’s repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Law stood on the deck of the Polar Tang, Bepo at his side, as the ship ambled into the East Harbor of Dressrosa. While the ship could have remained underwater until much closer to the dock, Law wanted to show Doffy that he wasn’t hiding, so he’d ordered the Tang to surface early. Dressrosa was a country Law could have seen himself enjoying, had Doflamingo not ruled with a façade of generosity and warmth while hiding a dark, cold underbelly. As it was, the sight of the familiar island made his stomach turn.

There was a lone figure waiting at the dock.

“Be careful,” Bepo said as the ship eased to a stop and dropped anchor.

“You too,” Law replied, hopping down from the ship to the dock. He adjusted his grip on Kikoku and greeted his visitor. “Violet.”

“Corazon,” she replied. “Welcome back.”

Law inclined his head and fell into step with her as they headed toward the city. He chanced one final glance back at the Tang—Bepo was securing the ship to the dock—before shifting his focus to the task at hand.

“Did he send you to meet me?” he asked.

“Yes, but I would have come anyway.”

When Law had first arrived in Dressrosa at 17, it had taken some time to find his footing among the Family again after four years. Not only had the operation grown significantly since Spider Miles, but Law’s own reluctance to return after his disappearance with a traitor to the Family hung like a noose around his neck. The executives and officers had been loath to trust him, though Doffy had overruled their concerns, and weren’t shy about taking out their suspicions on him and his crew. For the longest time, the only member of the Family he could stomach being around was Baby 5; they’d picked up their antagonistic but affectionate dynamic almost immediately upon Law’s return, which provided Law a small measure of comfort in its familiarity.

At first after arriving, Law had lashed out—his frustration exploding out of him when he couldn’t contain it any longer, usually as a result of the goading of the other executives—but when Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo had been punished rather than Law himself, he’d withdrawn into himself to protect them. He’d trained and studied and completed missions, but he’d shown little interest in living beyond the minimum required of him, despite the attempts of his friends to pull him out of it. Even Doflamingo had tried without success to bring some life to his protégé—he’d gifted Law Kikoku in the hope that the challenge of mastering a cursed blade might inspire him; he’d mastered the sword, but it hadn’t done much to liven him up.

Despite her wariness of anyone associated with the Family, Violet had been the only one to reach out to Law during his withdrawn period and actually reach him. After about a year into Law’s return, she’d read him often enough for Doflamingo to recognize a kindred spirit in the future Corazon. Three years apart in age, they’d both been shanghaied into the Family’s service due to their useful abilities with the threat of violence against their loved ones hanging over their heads if they were to rebel.

Her cynicism after the fall of her family’s rule was an equal match for Law’s, and they both had dark senses of humor forged from their circumstances. Violet was also well-read and intellectually curious, so their conversations kept Law on his toes. They found comfort in one another, which made life on Dressrosa bearable enough for Law to slowly emerge from his shell.

Though some of the executives and officers had been concerned with a friendship between the two people with the most reason to betray the Family, Doffy had been amused—even pleased. In the last year, he’d floated the idea of the two marrying to tie Dressrosa more formally to the Family; after all, though Doflamingo was a Warlord with government immunity and his own family name tying him to the kingdom, many other kingdoms still considered him an interloper. Having his second married to the former crown princess would be politically advantageous.

“He wants you to read me. To catch me lying,” Law said, coming to a stop. Violet stopped next to him and nodded. “Go ahead then.” He knew she’d need to be able to give Doffy something useful.

Violet frowned. “Are you sure?”

Law just shrugged. “No need to give him more reason to doubt.”

Violet pursed her lips but put her fingers to her eyes and used her Fruit to read Law’s thoughts and memories. After a few moments, she dropped her hands. “The Isle of Women. Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Law snorted and started walking again. Violet fell in beside him, her heels clacking on the cobblestones as they made their way toward the distant palace. “All we saw was the coastline. Much to the crew’s disappointment.”

“And you still don’t know why you did it.” Her tone was skeptical.

Law glanced sideways at her. “You read my thoughts, Princess.”

She rolled her eyes, as she always did when he called her that. “You took a serious risk, saving that boy. And for what?”

“That remains to be seen, I suppose.”

“I hope it was worth it,” Violet said, something dark underlying her words.

As they walked, Dressrosans bowed and murmured their names as they passed. Law paid them no mind, though he knew the deference to her alias as an officer of the Family bothered Violet by the tightening of her eyes.

“How’s Doffy been?” Law asked after a few quiet moments.

“Furious,” she replied. “But you already knew that.” She bit her lip briefly, a nervous habit of hers. “His mood has improved since you called a week ago, though.”

“That’s not good.” It meant he’d made a decision about how to deal with Law, and that didn’t bode well for him.

“Doubtful,” she agreed. “But I don’t know what he’s up to.”

Law had once asked her if she’d ever tried using her abilities on Doflamingo, but the look she’d given him in response had been withering. “What kind of fool do you take me for?” she’d demanded.

“And the crew I left behind?” Law asked, dread pooling in his gut. “How are they?”

“Fine, as far as I know.”

The relief that washed over him was short-lived as Law realized it simply meant they would be punished alongside the rest of the crew now that everyone was back.

He nodded stiffly, and they fell into silence once more as they walked. Unlike other silences with the Family, though, it was comfortable. He didn’t have anything to prove to Violet. Once they arrived at the palace, they headed into the courtyard.

“Oh, look who’s back,” Baby 5 said, hand going to her hip as the pair walked in. “It’s about time, Corazon!”

Law rolled his eyes at her. “Did I miss any more ill-fated romances while I was gone, Baby?”

“Shut up!” she snapped around her cigarette. “He needed me!”

Law opened his mouth to retort—the banter familiar and comforting—but he was cut off by his least favorite executive. “Ne, ne, Corazon. Doffy is in the Suit Room. I wouldn’t keep him waiting. Behehe,” he chuckled, clearly pleased that Law was going to face consequences for what he’d done.

Law flipped him off, which only made the slime bucket laugh harder. Taking a steadying breath, Law turned—briefly meeting Violet’s gaze—and headed into the palace toward the Suit Room. Doffy would know of his arrival by now, so Trebol, as annoying as he was, was right about not keeping the king of Dressrosa waiting.

Once he reached the door, Law raised his free hand and rapped on the shut door twice. A moment later, it opened. Law schooled his features and stepped inside. Doflamingo sat by the window, across from the four seats of his top executives.

“I’ve returned, Young Master,” Law said, trying to assess the other man’s mood with little luck.

“Corazon. Come.”

Law made his way to the Heart seat and sat down, resting Kikoku against the chair. When he looked back up, Doflamingo was watching him, expression inscrutable behind those glasses. Law let the part of him that was Corazon take over, pushing the other parts of him aside. This part of him didn’t concern himself with the two men who’d claimed this seat before him or cower in the face of the man who had dominated his nightmares for more than a decade. His back straightened and he raised his chin as the mask slid into place. He also knew better than to speak before the king.

“I trust there were no more… detours on your return home,” Doflamingo said after a pregnant pause.

“No, we made good time,” Law replied evenly.

Doflamingo nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He towered over Law even when Law was standing; when Law was sitting, he was downright dwarfed by the other man. But Corazon, the captain’s second in command, was not bothered by that.

“You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble with the World Government.” He’d said as much during the call a week earlier. “I’ve smoothed everything over, with no little effort.”

“My apologies, Young Master. It was not my intention to cause you problems.”

Doflamingo stepped into Law’s space, leaning over him. “And what was your intention?” The tension bleeding from that last work was palpable.

Corazon knew the importance of telling the truth in this interaction; still, Law hesitated, knowing Doflamingo wouldn’t like the answer. “I don’t know why I did it. I just acted.”

Doflamingo leaned over, placing his massive hands on the arms of the Heart seat, enclosing Law in his presence. “You don’t know,” he repeated, as if testing the words to see how they tasted. “You just acted.” His features tightened. “That doesn’t sound like you, Corazon.”

“I know.” Law preferred to plan for every contingency, plans on top of plans and every possibility considered before he made a move—all the years of evening games of chess with Doflamingo had drilled into him the importance of tactics—but he’d thrown all of that out for a feeling.

“You know I don’t like questioning the loyalty of my subordinates—especially my righthand man.”

“I know.”

“And yet,” he went on, as if Law hadn’t spoken, “how I can do anything but when my second comes out of the sea to save not one but two enemies of the World Government from the battlefield?”

“I will accept the consequences of my actions,” Law said, doing his best to keep his voice even. “My loyalty has not changed.”

Doflamingo stepped back, huffing a wry laugh. “Now that I believe.” He shook his head to himself. “Get yourself cleaned up. We’re taking a trip this evening.”

Law blinked in surprise at the sudden dismissal but nodded. “Yes, Young Master.” He grabbed Kikoku and rose. He was halfway to the door when his haki flared and he felt the air shift. But he was too slow in reacting.

A massive hand pressed suddenly against the back of his neck, shoving him forward into the closed door. Law let out a startled gasp as the air left his chest. Doflamingo draped himself over Law’s back, his lips by Law’s ear. Law did his best to suppress his instinct to fight back.

Doflamingo’s breath was warm and moist on Law’s skin as he murmured, “It wouldn’t be appropriate for the rabble to see an executive punished. But I can’t let insubordination stand either.”

Law’s breath hitched as Doflamingo spun him around so his back was pressed against the door. The hand that had been holding him immobile wrapped around his throat. It squeezed, cutting off Law’s breath. Law’s eyes widened and his free hand clawed at Doflamingo’s wrist on instinct, but the Warlord continued to squeeze. Black encroached on Law’s vision as his lungs screamed for air. His head spun and Kikoku slipped from his weaking grip.

Finally, when Law thought he would pass out, Doflamingo released him.

Law gasped greedily for air as his legs gave out from under him and he brought both hands to his neck, wincing at the tenderness. Once his breath had returned to semi-normal, he looked up at Doflamingo.

“Never forget who holds your life and the lives of your crew, Law.” Again, he’d purposefully used Law’s name. “Now go clean yourself up.”

Law took a steadying breath and nodded. He grabbed Kikoku and used her to push himself unsteadily to his feet. “By your leave, Young Master,” he croaked, throat feeling like he’d swallowed broken glass, as he opened the door and stumbled into the hallway toward his room.

-----

Viola entered the Suit Room when Doflamingo summoned her; his meeting with Law must have ended already, as he was alone. She kept her eyes on the usurper as she approached, knowing why she had been summoned. She stopped a respectable distance in front of the Warlord.

“Doffy,” she greeted, bowing her head.

“Violet. You read Corazon upon his arrival.” It wasn’t a question.

“I did.” She’d been ordered to do so, and she followed her orders to keep her family safe.

“He says he doesn’t know why he saved Straw Hat.” Again, it wasn’t a question. Still, he was expecting an answer.

“True,” Viola confirmed. In Law’s memories, she’d felt the tug in his chest that had guided him, but he hadn’t understood what it was or what it was telling him. “He acted on instinct.”

Doflamingo frowned, looking out the window. “It’s not like him.”

“He’s been wondering about his actions since that day,” Viola said, hoping she might buy Law even the smallest amount of leniency if she confirmed his story. She kept the truth of Law’s name and its connection to the other boy to herself, though. He’d confided in her about that secret name years earlier and the danger he would be in if Doflamingo found out about it.

“Where was he?”

“Amazon Lily.” She couldn’t say she didn’t know something so prominent in his memories. “Boa Hancock seems to have a soft spot for Straw Hat Luffy.”

Doflamingo barked a surprised laugh at that. “Interesting.” He seemed to file that information away for later. “And his loyalty?”

“Unchanged.”

That much was true; Law, like Viola herself, hadn’t been truly loyal to the Family since she’d known him, but his desire for the safety of his crew and his willingness to do whatever it took to protect them had been a constant since he was 17 and newly arrived in Dressrosa. Saving Straw Hat Luffy hadn’t changed that.

Doflamingo smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “It seems he was honest with me, then.” He glanced back at Viola. “Keep an eye on him. Shouldn’t be hard since he enjoys your company.”

Viola frowned at the implication but quickly schooled her expression. “Of course.”

-----

When Law reached his room, he found his belongings had already been brought up from the Polar Tang. As he shucked off his clothes and hopped in the shower, he wondered where his crew was. Had they been allowed to return to their rooms? Shaking his head, he washed the travel from his skin and hair. Once clean, he wrapped a towel around his waist, and, on the way back into his room, caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

He grimaced, fingers lightly tracing the already-purpling marks on his neck. He knew the marks would be visible for days, and his voice would be rough for about as long. He could use his powers to accelerate the healing, but that would defeat the entire point of the exercise, and Law knew better than that.

Executives had to appear above reproach in the eyes of the public to keep up the illusion of their absolute power, so Doffy couldn’t punish him publicly, but the evidence of punishment would show Law’s actions had been dealt with. But Law also knew some ugly bruises around his neck wouldn’t be the only punishment; at this point, however, he could only worry about what would be done to his crew, as they were Doffy’s primary means of keeping Law in line.

With a scowl, he returned to his room and pulled some clothes nicer than his typical jeans and a hoodie that Doflamingo insisted he have for formal events from his closet. The fabric was light since Dressrosa was a summer island, and Law made sure not to choose anything that would cover his neck; Doflamingo, sadist that he was, would want his handiwork on display.

Grabbing Kikoku, Law gave himself a final once-over; satisfied, he left his room. He’d just turned the corner when he nearly ran headfirst into Baby 5. She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to snarl something unkind at him, but the words died on her lips as her gaze dropped to Law’s neck. Her eyes widened.

“What?” Law demanded, hating the rasp in his voice.

Baby shook herself before looking Law in the eye again. “The Young Master told me to find you. He’s waiting in the courtyard.”

Law frowned at that. He could have sensed Doffy himself with his haki; there was no reason to send Baby as a messenger—except to make sure she saw Doffy’s handiwork up close. Law ground his teeth but nodded at Baby.

“Thanks.”

She gaped at him as he stepped past her. “Seriously?”

Law paused with a tired sigh. “What?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Since when do you thank me, Corazon?”

Law rolled his eyes. “It won’t happen again if that’s the reaction I’m going to get.” He made to start walking again.

“Wait.”

Law stopped and looked at her expectantly. Baby swallowed and reached a tentative hand toward his neck. Law flinched but didn’t stop her gentle touch to the purpling handprints. Her fingers were ghost-light as she touched the marks.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

Law looked away, unable to deal with the genuine concern in her expression. “I’m fine.”

“Cora— Law.”

Law started and looked back at Baby. What was with people using his name lately? “What?”

“Just. Be careful. I don’t know why you did what you did, but the Young Master…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

Law took Baby’s hand in his grip, gently pulling it away from his neck, and nodded. “I know,” he said, not unkindly. He let go of her hand.

Baby dropped her hand and watched him, uncertain.

“I shouldn’t keep Doffy waiting,” Law said, and Baby jerked.

“Damn right, asshole,” she said, though her voice lacked any heat.

Law’s lips twitched and he headed for the courtyard, feeling Baby’s eyes on his back. When he entered the courtyard, Doflamingo appraised him. When he was satisfied with what he saw, gaze noticeably lingering on Law’s throat, he rose from his seat.

“There you are, Corazon. Come, we’re going out.”

Law nodded, ignoring Trebol’s knowing look. He didn’t speak, not wanting the sentient snot to hear his broken voice, instead simply falling in a half step behind Doflamingo, the appropriate place for his second. A carriage was waiting just outside the palace gates, and the two men entered and took their place across from one another.

Law remained silent as the royal carriage wound its way through the familiar streets of the capital, looking out the window and considering the direction they were taking.

“You haven’t asked where we’re going,” Doflamingo finally commented.

Law turned to the king. “Would you have answered?”

Doflamingo smirked, and Law had a feeling at least part of his amusement was at the sound of his voice. “No,” he allowed. “It’s a surprise.”

Law nodded, having assumed as much. He returned his gaze to the window, though his thoughts were with his crew and not the city they were meandering through. Violet had said Ikkaku, Clione, and Uni were unharmed, but how much longer would that last? What had happened to the rest of his crew once they’d disembarked the Polar Tang?

He was pulled from his thoughts when the carriage came to a halt. Law blinked when he realized where they were.

Law looked back at Doflamingo with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t explain. “The Colosseum?”

Doflamingo simply nodded and gestured toward the carriage door. “Let’s go.”

Law had little choice but to do as he was bidden, so he followed Doflamingo out of the carriage. The king was in his element as he greeted his adoring public. Law fell into place behind the other man and followed him inside to the king’s private box.

His hackles went up when he saw Diamante waiting inside the box. The executive gave Law an appraising look before nodding at Doflamingo. “Doffy,” he greeted. “Everything is ready.”

“Good.”

Doflamingo sat and nodded for Law to take the seat to the king’s right. Law did as he was bidden, and Diamante took his place to Doffy’s left. Law looked out over the amphitheater to see, as usual, a large crowd of raucous citizens. The Corrida Colosseum was the premier entertainment in Dressrosa, after all.

“Welcome to this special event at the Corrida Colosseum!” the commentator, Gatz, announced. “Today, we will see fighters from around Dressrosa get the opportunity to earn their freedom or even join the Donquixote Family by defeating a member of Corazon’s own crew, the Hearts!”

Next chapter

[fortheheavenssake]

MM ANON II - 1

April 15, 2020

1. April 15

MM ANON …… doctor gone batty……… LA for dummies ……… Doctors Within Borders ……… social insistence ………… hugs not bugs……… absolutely isolated Kate. ……… “ not a whisper ma’am ……… St George’s chapel of course!!…………… with humility skippy, with humility.

2.

Mm anon verified

MM ANON … to forgive Devine. To accept ones shortcomings is a hard pill to swallow especially if like myself your behaviour Is mired in self justification and blind contempt … it’s taken me a long time to ask forgiveness ……… and pride is a killer of the spiritual light. To those who can find forgiveness on their heart I thank them, humbly and sincerely. ……… MM ANON

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3. April 30

MM ANON ……… the only virus ………… wonderful children to hug…… magnificent isolation ma’am……… dirty Megan,clean Harry ……… will never be the same ………… big things for a future princess ……… home cooking ………… “ ground control to major Tom” ………. “ and wash your bloody hands!!!……… an archificial birthday ………… trooping the colours???

Thank you! Happy to have you back!😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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4. April 30

MM Anon

MM ANON …… Many thanks skippy ……… a privilege to return to you all ……… graciously thankful to pg , skippy and all anons. Callidus er populum

Welcome back….😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

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5. May 1.

MM ANON … it’ll cost us thousands …… “ ‘‘tis the times’ plague , when madmen led the blind “……… 🎼 all the clubs have been closed down 🎼………… “ if you both don’t stop fighting I’ll send you to Madagascar “ ………… “ one makes ones bed”…………… “ well wash your bloody hands AGAIN!!”…………… “ there so funny on screen Philip” …… Quo victuals est super eam et irrumabo …………… next slide please.

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6. May 2.

MM ANON ……… bless all who come here……… stay safe ……… not sneezing season ……… birthday girls world following ……… sitting on the toilet screaming and howling ……… Plasma fantazma?……… 🎼give a little bit 🎼……… “ I swear ,I’ll send you to bloody Madagascar “……… “another top up sir”………” leave the poor man be Philip “……… “no ma’am not yet” ……… Wilfred!!!!!………… “ Bloody Wilfred!!”……… conspirators will spread another sort of virus.

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7. May 3

MM ANON ………Lucrezia Markle……… For her own well-being … she’s kicking and sedated ……… safety net for Harry ……… a very private LOCK-down ………” GATEWAY“intervention …… “NHS Catherine , Sterling work darling “ …………” yes ,I love Frozen 2” ………… PTA……… “ your experience would be valued ma’am”……… “ I myself am best when least in company “……… absque misericordia

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8. May 4

MM ANON …… granny flap…… delusions of gran-tour…… “ aye, some wantid er’ but Walt dis-ney “…… a p****hub offer worth millions …… a secret return …… Lottie leaded Cambridge assault ……… “ a very prominent speech for VE DAY ma’am”. …… unlocking the unlock able ………… 🎼day by day…🎼………… pause ,pray, proceed. …… optimistic optimism???

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9. May 5

MM ANON …… Thank Dear anon for interpretation …… and yes if you’re struggling dear pg … prayers and hugs

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10. May 5

MM ANON ……… “ hi Kate , how wonderful to hear your voice “😂😂😂………… Archificialy archificial. ……… 🎼but sometimes,ya get what ya need🎼……… “ if you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue “……… a Duchess,a Duchess and a Duchess walked onto a bar……… tunc non transiet ……… an infectious tube……… my my margarita ……… let go let god. ……… ( and Thank skippy).

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11. May 6

MM ANON ………… archificial anniversary ……… “she hasn’t a bloody clue “ ………I speak for Meghan ……… 🎼he’s a real nowhere man🎼……… “ the fool doth think he is wise…… “………… 🎼come fly with me (not)🎼……… A few weeks more …………” we do the outside first Philip” ……… Bloody jigsaw………” Sydney!!!!! “……… “ Mmmmm , interesting, a virtual Balcony “ …………… “ yes , a new medal is appropriate” ………… unlockdown!!! ………… “ give us a hug”.

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12. May 6

MM ANON ……… Sooooooo , where is Harry in the duck / rabbit video????????????????? An archificial attempt to ingratiate herself as a mother of a surrogate child. She looks a tad sheepish 🐏🐏🐏🐏🐏🐏🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑🐑. 😂😂😂😂

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13. May 7

MM ANON … Spider Sandwiches ………… the photographic phenomenon ………… “O Christ, she knows her way round a Cannon” ……… “ modest, small and incremental “ ……… “ she’s still spitting bullets over the duchesses children “ ……… “ my goodness, Charlotte trumps everyone”. ………… another modest outfit. ……… the books a flop, who would buy it? ……… “ dada duck duck”…………”ANOTHER sex tape!!!!! “…………… her irrelevant life………… desperately seeking ANYTHING………… a sad demise Rachael!!

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14. May 7

MM ANON …… dear and inquisitive anons ……… THE RIDDLES ARE “ ENTERTAINMENT “ only, a parody and lightness of spirit and soul! It’s a privilege to be here , by the grace of Skippy …………… enjoy!! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

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15. VE Day 75, May 8

MM ANON …… My mother was a plotter at Northolt fighter base in 1943 where she met my father who was a pilot, I remember her saying that the Polish pilots were the bravest men she ever met. ………… we shall remember them 🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧

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16. May 8

MM ANON …… The Queen, god bless her……… blackout ……… the king/ the Queen the nation ……… never give up, never despair ……… the home front……… 🎼some sunny day 🎼………… 🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧………… 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸……… 🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦……… and all who fought ……… a day like no other……… at the going down of the sun and in the morning ……………… ‘ we shall remember them.

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17. May 9

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜MM ANON ……… Dear pg , your gracious tribute to the riddle. I Ended the post in tears ………………… respect.

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18. May 9

MM ANON …… “ it’s an unlock Jim, but not as we know it “……… on yer bike……… 🎼that’s life,……🎼………… Bar Wars………… survival of the fit-test……………”a vulgar mansion “…………… Spider sandwiches……… an emotional exhibition, Bravo!! ……… now that’s TRUE grit…………… be- bop-a-loo-la RIP……… The Serenity prayer……thank you for this forum xxxxx…………… it will end ,…one day!!

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19. May 10

MM ANON ……… Rachel 43………… archificial 15 months ……… hospitality will become inhospitable ………… the R factor ………… “Henry, don’t do that”. …… return to school??? …………… no guidelines …………… be alert,the country needs lerts………… risk assessment!!! ………… an issue of safety ………… it’s the economy,stupid!! ………… test, Trace and isolate. ………… a silver lining 🌈🌈

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20. May 11

MM ANON …… Thrive???………… definitely Malibu ………wear a mask ………… confusing but amusing ……… a question of credibility ……… 🎼 we can be heroes ……🎼…” what ever happened to wrinkle cream?”……… love and hugs to all our anon friends ……… 🎼 now there are three steps to heaven 🎼………… Brave New World ……… a quiet Queen.

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21. May 13

MM ANON …… for saving my mother ……… father ……… grandmother …… grandfather …son ……… sister……… brother……… daughter ………… thank you for saving my life nurse / doctor /……… how can I EVER thank you all ……… from the bottom of my ❣ ……… I can never find the words ……… my gratitude is unending ……… god bless you all. ……… GOD BLESS YOU ALL!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

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22. May 13

MM ANON ……… “come on Kate, off to Queens”……… Charlotte goes first……… “George ‘ get your bicycle “……… 🎼bye bye miss American spy🎼……… 🎼listen , do you want to know a secret 🎼……… stay alert 🤣🤣🤣……… trains, planes and automobiles……… driving miss day-see? ……… FOUR!!!! …………… an art gallery,when??……… single prayers please.

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23. May 13.

MM ANON …………… to all who visit ………… riddles are entertainment only … a parody ,a light and fluffy expression. 🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂Thank you all for understanding.

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24. May 14

MM ANON …… school of thought ……… bulldoze in and takeover ……… Braveheart & Boris ………… dead theatre ……… GOT………… Charlotte summer ……… anticipation of antibodies ………… China???………… death of Hollywood ………… 🎼blow a little whistle 🎼………… we have no plan B……… I’m so bored ………… “ we’re gonna need a bigger fence”

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25. May 15

MM ANON ……… a lovely surprise ……… sweet Charlotte ……… it’s teaching Jim, ………��…”Harry, you know you’ll always have a place “……………”he’s not happy Catherine “ ……… R1………… re-train………… clubbings, clubbed…… Tea-CHING…………… “ yes, that’s a really good question”…………2 metres for ever???………… a rally in Calais. ………… GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧🌈🇨🇦

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26. May 16

MM ANON …… “ I’m keeping my tennis shoes on”……… “I’m not getting out of bed for less than 3mill” …… cold nose undercover ………… a learning yearning ………… “friends thou hast, and there adoption tried “…… …… 🎼ya gotta give a little 🎼……………… “I’m not happy about them returning William “ …………… “ One needs ones hair attended too”………… “ I’ll bloody cut it myself !!”……… “ I know!! … SYDNEY!!”

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27. May 17

MM ANON …… a Diamond evaluator ……… Of no consequence whatsoever ……… straight to credits. ………… LA Confidential ………… 🎼no sir I don’t mean maybe 🎼…………… 🎼Don’t fence me in🎼…………… “ I want Adele you a story “……………… The man from U.N.C.L.E. Harry …………… “ ones lockdown sucks” ………… “ miserable without Boddys old thing “ …………… “Sydney’s slacking “.

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28. May 18

MM ANON ……… a personal loss………… the Dynamic Duo………… FPhishing……Nlcola Nike Snike ………… Hydroxy- foxy(do not do this at home)…………………” a suitable case for ( shhhhh) treatment “ ………… “ no comment “ …………… “ a game of cards old thing “…………… “patience Philip ……………” ………… ma’am , it’s Charlotte and George on tic-toc…………… “dance, gan, gan, you dance, … Sydney!! 

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29. May 19

MM ANON …… Ana-adversity …… the gathering marital storm…………” first family visit will be the United States when normalisation hits ma’am” …………”life will return ma’am”……… Who is that? …………… guesting the testing ……… “ they won’t return early ma’am”…………… “one speaks to Catherine,daily , and the little ones” ……… “it’s interminable Sydney,” …” a Little top-up sir”

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30. May 20

MM ANON … Regarding the gathering of unhappy people, slutmeg only invited the men she had slept with , with their +ones ……… the members of the RF who attended treating it as a pantomime and a priceless observation of side- eyes and laughter. HMTQ look at slutmeg… EPIC. 😂😂😂😂😂😱😱😱😱😱

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31. May 20

MM ANON ……… 5 years old ‘ COVID security ……… transmission admission??……… 1st. June. …………… A pollution solution ………… free at last……… kiss 💋 me 😱😱😱………… another Father???…………… Spanish,French and judo 😂😂😂…………… lies,damm lies, and MM……… an expensive squat………… A Greece-y gamble. ………… “ is one sitting comfortably’ good, Once apon a time “

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32. May 21

MM ANON …… “what , seen at Lympstone “………… a Diplomatic retreat ……… A-Nul-ment………… NY bio-diver-city……… facegrime ………… Charles, a man for all see-sons……… thermal Heathrow ………… 1st Solo address ………… high-end-ing ………… “ clever children, such a lovely dance”……… “ no darlings gan-pops with Sydney “………… “ yes’ we’ll all bake a cake “………… “ pretty Jim-jams Charlotte “.

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33. May 22

MM ANON …… 88 two fat ladies ……… two blacked out Discovery’s in St Leonard’s ……… Priti Draconian …… pray,or else!! ………… gel my temperature ……… wash your hands then wrinkle cream ……… a memorial event ………… Hong-Gone…………” well, wake him up Sydney!!………… “bloody hell Sydney “ ………… “ sorry ma’am , Charlotte wants to play bingo”……… “ wonderful , clickerty duck”

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34. May 23

MM ANON …… 44 million? ………… anons’ how much on clothes?………… “still looked trash”………… evidences of past yachting 😱😱😱😱😱………… LA EX?? ………… “ in Exeter”…………… “ Josh Stones!!“………… a second peak? ……………not in Spain 🥳🥳🥳………… meanwhile in WC. ……… “ gan gan I want a tiara “ ………… “ and one day you shall “ ……… “ is nanny back Catherine?”……… “where’s my bloody slippers “ ……” your wearing them sir”

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35. May 23

ANON … As we all submit our little posts give a thought for the reason we can , it’s the ever faithful skippy and her eclectic forum ……… love, prayers, animals, history, royalty, and silliness ……… god bless you dear skippy 💜💜💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

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36. May 24

MM ANON …… Cummings going?………Lottie nottie going ……… Harry’s 💡 idea……… “give birth? Incapable!! ……… “during yachting “………… “ I’ve seen the evidence “ ………… “ she lied to TBRF” ……… MOS knows!! …… 🎼we’re all going on a summer 🎼………… to pray or not pray………… “ Pleeeeez gan gan!! “……… “ one day you shall sweet girl” ……… “ next year , if things are admissible “ ……… “ he’s a tad grumpy ma’am”……… “ ignore him Sydney”

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37. May 25

MM ANON …… Charlottes WWWeb……… Rules, What Rules. ……… in flight,flight. ………… Tinsel down……… hugs not bugs ………… non essential retailers open ………… no pubs, sport , cinemas, theatres, …………… Cummings,a shaggy dog story. ……… a very angry electorate ………… “ I want to go school gan gan”………“let’s see your dancing “………”no, school gan gan!!……… “ Oooooo, whats mummy doing “ ………… “ Sydney, refreshments ‘please.

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38. May 25

MM ANON …… MEMORIAL DAY …IN HONOUR OF THEIR SERVICE ……………… 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇬🇧

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39. May 26

MM ANON …… Kate re-opening high street……… “excellent, as retail ambassador “……… W&K will have the public’s ear” …………”a late family tour ma’am’……… “ that’ll put a a Kate among the pidgins” …… “ a damaging tome sir “……… “ opening book shops, how’ll that work?……… “you can’t handle books……… “ o’ Philip, a quiet night”…… “ bloody hell !! What’ no tic-toc ?……… “nanny’s organised bingo”:…… “ ahhh, ……… Sydney ‘ something strong!!

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40. May 27

MM ANON …… KATE MIDDLETON IS A FUTURE QUEEN! She has three beautiful children and a loving husband, solid, grounded and intelligent. THIS IS THE FUTURE OF OUR MONARCHY ,I THINK SHE HAS MORE SPIRITUAL STRENGTH. AND WILL BE THE FOUNDATION OF THE CAMBRIDGE FUTURE. GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧

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41. May 27

MM ANON ………”I get tired of Lottie tic-toc-ing” ………… “little Louis gets tired using the trampoline “……… “ I’m off to Queens,tennis “……… back on his Ducati……… Nanny is making 🥘 paella ………… “I’ve managed to acquire that box set ma’am” …… “ Gangs of London or The Sopranos“……… both ma’am”……… “bloody epic Sydney “……… “ is that bumbling Minister still running round the palace “……… “ tell him to piss-orf”……… “ top-ups”

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42. May 28

MM ANON …… MM drone ing on…… tittle Tatler ……… lockdown tour T-shirt ………… ahhhhhhh, rate!! ……… school digital haves’ digital have nots……… rid the clap!! ………… one metre ………… “ it’s football Jim, but not as we know it “………… “To his good friends, thus wide lle ope my Armes: ……… “ look Philip,it’s Louis bouncing “ ……… “they have a new dance”……… “ return of a routine“…………” Maria and Lottie swimming “ …… “bloody hydrotherapy on Sunday “……… “ I think that’s enough Sydney “

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43. May 29

MM ANON ……… looting/ shooting ………… “ tic-toc Nanny”………… “ ok! Charlotte, get Louis too” ……… “ George,do it properly “……… W&K , It’s a challenging schedule ma’am” …………” there having a bike day at Brands Hatch with Ducati “ ……… “ Nottingham cottage ma’am”………… “like old times ma’ am”……………�� I’ll have a quiet word with Donald “………… “ not Philip, his diplomacy is wanting”………… “exiting times ma’am”……… “ one shall insist on compliance Christopher “

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44. May 30

MM ANON …………… another billionaire friend ………… she lies on lies…………desperate for attention ……… a roadmap to nowhere ……… up up and away ……… all white on the night …………LTA talks with Kate ………… MENSA with Charlotte??………… “ bright as a button ma’am”. …… “ not this side of the family “………” there coming over next week”………” Mmmmm , live tic-toc”……… fairycakes Sydney.

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45. May 31

MM ANON …… it Musk be love ……… nine elms………… agent provocateur ………… teetering on the edge………… body cams?? ………… amateur photographers unite ………… front line statue ……… 🎼I heard it on the grapevine 🎼………… “ no darling not today”……” we’re going to visit gan gan” …………”staying overnight ma’am” ………… “ a few days Sydney “………… “ tomorrow night, it’s a little concert Philip, don’t get grumpy “ ………… “bloody hell, I’m low on refreshments. “

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46. June 01

MM ANON … Balmoral Fern………… plastic Nile. ………… in the Bunker ………… Autopsy …………………Truth , Justice and the American way ………… WC welcome …………… “ would one know how to barbecue Sydney??” ………… William will oblige ma’am……”one prefers coronation chicken “…………… “unicorn sausages ,Lottie George??……… “just salad ma’am. “

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47. June 02

MM ANON ……… keep your distance ………” it’s a curfew Jim , but not as we know it “ …… “ A plague o’ both your houses “……… house today , gone tomorrow ………… “all lives matter “ …………… cut and roots and streaks ……… B&EC are reluctant to return ………… Minister misleads testing ……… office of national ridistics ……… 🎼I I see a bad moon rising 🎼………… blackout Tuesday ………… “ “wear a body-cam old thing, then I can pretend I’m riding “ …………… “one would look ridiculous Philip!!”……… “ Sydney, stop pouring “

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48. June 03

MM ANON …… 2020 another royal baby ………… development in Portugal ……… more charges eminent Minnesota ……… a wet summer ………… ISS a strange smell? ……… … London protests …………NAACP……… size 12 , and the shoes 👠 ……………” mummy , mummy- goes viral ………” we’ll old thing, I wasn’t expecting that ending “……… “ so enjoyable Philip ‘ anymore Sydney?……… “ I think Catherine has Peaky-Blinders ma’am” …… “ is it a bit GBH ? “ ……… “ yes ma’am”……… “Ohhhh goody”.

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49. June 04

MM ANON ……MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt 💓………… the Tatler connection ………… 🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼………… MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4……………… 14 days to binge. ……… a Russian contamination …………vaccine summit ……… ”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

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50. June 04

MM ANON …… “ Heartfelt video “ anything heartfelt in the life of MM is self indulgent. A selfish PR attempt to seem engaged in the national conciseness Her agenda …… “how can I make this about ME!!! “ this woman is so shallow. ………… a Caucasian of infinite insults. A pitifully example of insecurity and ego. A walking talking resentment. God help her!!

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51. June 5

MM ANON …… never look a gift bandwagon in the mouth…… everyone is crawling out the woodwork ……… “I’m covert 19 , fly me” ……… M&H on the March??? ………… over 40,000………… flight attendant/ ……… the dodgy R…………… mandatory masks ………… The Amazon too ??? ………… online celebrity … “ There here Philip “ …………” one has to distance darlings “ …… “ yes there lovely shoes” ……… “ look Philip, live tic-toc “………” it’s wonderful wonderful “ ………… “amazing, he’s shot up “ ………” shall we have a little refreshments?”

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52. June 6

MM ANON …… the battle of Whitehall ……… agent Provocateurs………new trading …… it’s a Sunday Jim ,but not as we know it ………… social distancing got wet……… antibodies have the answer ……… R is above 1 in the SWest Of England. 😱😱😱😱……… second spike😱😱😱………🎼when I was 65 ,it was a very good year 🎼………… “ look it’s mummies wedding “ ……… “it’s mummy gan gan” ……… “ yes , so pretty the coach “ ………” I want one “ …���… “ one day sweetie, one day” ………” will you come gan gan ? “ ………… “ I’ll try darling “.

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53. June 7

MM ANON …… I’d like to thank pg /LK and all the anons who attempt/ solve and interpretations of the riddles that skippy graciously lets me post 💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💓💓💓🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧Many thanks to all those who partake.

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54. June 7

MM ANON ……who’s her next favourite millionaire ……… Malibu?? ……… NYC??……… another sad video cry for help ……… archificial ( firsts words) 🤣🤣🤣………… mad / bad & dangerous to know ……… “ it’s me, me film me!! ………… “ turn around!! “ ……… “ he’s not letting her agenda rule” ………” this is not up for debate “………… “yes ones looking forward to traveling up there “ ………” get in touch with the Gillie” …………… “ can one travel to ones other residence?…………… “ can’t find my bloody glasses, Sydney!!

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55. June 8

MM ANON ……D.O.J.……… A Stern retort. ………… the sept. Soothsayer ……… A 14 day suicide for the trade………… in court today ……… Beatrice tooo tu!! …………… wonderful Wessex……… more photos from Kate??? ……… no fuss birthday ………… “ shall one suggest a gathering of 8 .” ………” no, silly’ Balmoral?? ……… MM desperatum iri videbatur……

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56. June 9

MM ANON ……… everyone and their brother,brother ……… wow!! What a photo Kate!!…………… little Louis gets a surprise …………… a well rounded future of three( four) ……… A birthday tic-toc dance………… “ do Catherine , come and bring the children “………… “maybe a change of routine “………… “ Both of you are an example hope”……… “ yes George,I’ll see if we can get to a match”

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57. June 10

MM ANON … Gone……………everything is now B&W…………… “ but’ tomorrow is another day”………… “ but old thing, I look like bloody Bela Lugosi” ………… “ shutup Philip”……… “ just Take the bloody picture “.………”they’ve hardly ever been on a train William “………… “ yes , they’d be very excited 😜 “ ………… 🎼we’re all going to the zoo tomorrow 🎼…………… she lies for exposure……… yachting’ secret exposure !! …………… this time it’s explosive!! ………… “ great scoop Beth.”

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58. June 11.

MM ANON …… dib dib dib……… one metre before July …………care-ing monarch online ……… 🎼What picture,what a photograph 🎼………… DOC museum of photography ? ………. Columbus falls……… “ I shall insist it’s the best TTC old thing “ …………a trace race. ………… Sunday Balmoral?? ………… “ plenty of fresh air for them” ……… “ in the lodge” ……… “C&C can stay here” ……………” your good at this zoom lark old thing “…………… “Group Of eight, a dinner party

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59. June 12

MM ANON …… for the anon who thinks she has superior knowledge of the riddles and has a problem with the wonderful interpretations of LK and pg. ……… I suggest you join the other ignorant anons who pay us a fleeting visit ……………THEN DISAPPEAR!! Skippy, we’re the ones who love you 💜💜💜💜💜

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60. June 12

MM ANON …… my BFF , sacked……… mr President,welcome ……… on mental health ‘ goal……… “they’ll still turn up old thing “………… “ they won’t see anything Philip “ ……… Boris,incandescent!! ……… “🍕 Pizza night children “………… “ thecrown old thing “ ……… “ NO!!” ………… “ we haven’t finished peakyblinders” ……… “ bloody brummies” ……… “ PHILIP!!………… Sydney ‘ we’re out of your refreshment sir “ ………… WHAT!!

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61. June 13

MM ANON …HMTQ was social distancing ……… beautiful in blue……… “ amazing bloody parade “…… to Broach the subject …… “ you looked magnificent old thing”. ……… KHAN GET IT RIGHT …… a WEE disturbing …… hugs 🤗 not bugs……… the China syndrome ……… open market 😱😱😱………… won’t ring Beijing …………… “ Ahhh, Sydney, you refreshed the refreshments “ ………” ignore him Sydney “………… “ I found an old vidio TTC , 1975 Old thing, our favourite hits” ……… “ those were ones days” ………” we looked the mutts-nuts old thing

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62. June 14

MM ANON …… Adeleville……… Westfield?? ………… Charlottes delivery …………… 🎼grab the cash with both hands🎼………… another scam charity …………… she’s a race… ist ………… she publishes the book ………………… we will destroy her, we have the tapes…… “ no more Mrs, nice ma’am!! “ ………… “ ones gloves are orf Christopher ………… “ it was a very good year,old thing “.

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63. June 15.

MM ANON ……… Shetland lift-off……… LIZA with a ‘ don’t know em……………” it’s shopping Jim, but not as we show it……… “ matter of fact it’s all dark” …………… first jet easy ………… Brexit,old white guys drinking a lot. …………… a moment of reckoning ……… a virtual Wimbledon?? ………… Catherine to the rescue …… “ Ahhh , a relaxing night old thing “ …………… “Sydney’s provided a new box set” …… “Boardwalk Empire” ………“ bit violent old thing” ……… “ Epic Philip!!”…… “ones usual Sydney “………… “great!! No bloody tic toc.

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64. June 16

MM ANON …… “she Ascot nothing on me” ………… para-thanks William ……… PC , LOST weight??…………Oxford,Oxford ……… STIR-oid ………U-Turn dinner …………… falling tragedy ………… the Paris peasants are revolting ……… ……… “ we can still dress-up cabbage 🥬 “ ………… “Anne, my yellow ensemble”……… “Sydney ‘ a photo”………… “that’s a keeper, old thing” ……… “ here we go , tic-toc, the three of them” ………… “O, and Catherine!!” ………… “ ehhhh, And William “ ………… “ make it a double Sydney “…… “ how entertaining Philip “

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65. June 17

MM ANON … Goal no goal, offside!! …………red zone……… rear ended,whoops!! ………… saliva sample ………… another rally?? …………… a £ 900,000 paint job. ………… madam NYC incognito …………ZOOM to William ……… mutant outbreak confirmed ……………… NDA bombshell. …………joining the UN? …………… Chile lockdown ………”how many episodes old thing “ ………… “ yes , that Nucky chappie is a tad violent” ………… “ she’s meeting at Wimbledon “……………… “ Nanny’s taking them to the zoo”

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66. June 18

MM ANON ……… “NEVER………… “ ………” mon dieu” …… 🎼some sunny day 🎼……… “ good to meet again Mr President “………air corridor ……… “ to be honest,he was an obnoxious old bastard” ……… world beating 🍒……… non app- licable …… “ Bolt-hole. ………… self interest ……… BOE- more money!! …………… pepper sprayed……… “ O Philip, it’s the last one “……… “Always Downton Abbey old thing”

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67. June 19

MM ANON …… HMTQ boost……… cup cakes in kings-him ………… Garden-send-her ……… September kids ………… hack Australia ………… Bei-ching ………… Charlotte & George together ………… no longer alert ?? ………… “ get packed Philip we’re orf soon” ………debt, what debt? ……… slave day………… ONS………… “ bubble bubble- toil and trouble” ……… 🎼teach your children well🎼………… “Sydney ‘ don’t forget my tigger PJs”……… 🎼swing low,sweet chariot 🎼………… “ Cabbage ‘ it’s tic-toc time”.

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68. June 20

MM ANON ……… Hello!! ………… “ It’s a rally Jim , ……… viva espana ………… 🎼drink, drink, drink,🎼…………… black wall……… MM , another agenda!! ………… bollotics ………… “ Kate and William,the children are with nanny “ ………… “ Dover Sole and lemon parfait old thing “………… cream caramel,and Irish coffee Sydney!! ………… “September 9th ma’am. …… “ Stay over Catherine “

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69. June 21

MM ANON … give us a hug………… Duchess of Cambridge Royal collection ……… in the footsteps of lord Lichfield ………… EOS C700 Christmas present … … “ slow the testing down”…………Kung-flu…………… Size matters………… reopening NYC……… “ get ya hair 💇🏽‍♀️💇🏼‍♂️cut” …………… “ 🙋‍♂️🙋‍♀️🍺 “ ………… Rachel for president?? …………… archificial daddy day?? ……… spotted in St Johns Wood.

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70. June 22

MM ANON ……… noose-car……… Ahhhh, Germany……… BOE-meltdown ………… free at last………… testing the TEST!! 🏏……… Terrorisk ………… ONE ,small step………”I think She’s turning Japanese”………… Saint Lennox …………… A rush of wind…………… “ well now you’re free to be reunited with the little monsters”……… “ bloody hell’ what a joy” ………… “ O Philip ‘ hugs 🤗 lots of hugs” ………… “ and live tic-toc , I can hardly wait “ ………” I’ll have to muster some liquid courage, Sydney!! “

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71. June 25

MM ANON ……”they seek him there” ……… your services are no longer required ……… street rumble ……… phwew, wot a scorcher………… we’ll fight them on the beaches ………… it’s sunburn Jim , but not as we know it ………… mutation sensation ……………🎼you’ll neeeeeeever walk alone🎼……………… sign on the million dotted line ………… take the TRASH out…………… “ a letter ma’am”.

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[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 15

Prompt: Feral Rating: PG-13 for blood, brief description of violence Words: 1,373 Characters: Cameron Buchanan/Penelope Fisher, established relationship Summary: Cam and Penny’s date gets crashed by Trappers.  Penny is not having any of it. Note: Happens a little before the events of Day 9.   Scottish Gaelic translation - mo leannan: my lover, my sweetheart. mo chridhe: my heart

For the @31daysofwayhaven event

Penelope hated Trappers with a vengeance.  After the whole thing with Unit Bravo’s encounter with them, the Agency had given all units the go-ahead to use any force necessary when dealing with them, and had clarified that if the situation called for it, that meant using deadly force.

This was definitely one of those situations.  

Unit Charlie - Delta, Unit Delta, now -�� hadn’t even been on a mission, in fact, they’d been told to cool their heels after the last one they’d been on had ended up in near-disaster.  With Winona under a mandatory yet temporary expulsion and the rest of them grounded, they’d been at least given leave to stay outside of Agency Facilities, so long as they didn’t cause any trouble.

Technically, they weren’t the ones to cause trouble.  She and Cam had actually been on a date when they’d been ambushed, a group of five Trappers taking them down with the same sort of shock sticks they’d used on Unit Bravo.  She and Cam had tried to fight back, but they’d kept prodding them with it until both of them had been knocked to their knees.  Both of them had locked eyes with the other, silently agreeing to a tactic that they’d practiced over the years: she would roll sharply to the side to distract, then he would sweep out with his foot to take down.  For the most part, it worked, the first of the Trappers falling to the pavement with a sick crunch as the back of his head met asphalt.  Unfortunately, both of them had been injured in the initial ambush and not as fast as they would have been, causing the four others to react and hit them again with the electric prods.

Yet the Trappers made one fatal mistake: they thought that Cam had been the bigger threat of the two and had gone to town on him.  His pained yells and the scent of charred flesh had made Penny see red.

Later, when they were reporting the event to their Agency superiors, Penny would say that she didn’t quite remember much of the fight after that.  All she could recall was the fact that she had shifted, an inhuman howl tearing through her throat and leaving her hoarse later when she had shifted back to her human form.  Penny had always been in her own head whenever she shifted, but she had heard stories of others, driven mad by bloodlust, who had described the experience as if they were watching a scene happen in front of their eyes, completely apart from what was going on.  

It was odd: she remembered brief glimpses of the fight, her silver fur stained red with blood, the scent filling her nostrils and the taste lingering on her tongue.  She dimly remembered one of them pleading for mercy, but she had shown him none, tearing him apart with such violence that it made her sick to her stomach to remember, bile rising in her throat as she finished her report.  The next thing she clearly remembered was changing back to her human form, naked, covered in blood, and collapsing next to Cam’s unmoving body.  He was still breathing, and luckily his phone was undamaged save for a large crack on the glass, so she’d quickly called the Agency to bring a medic and a cleanup crew to their location before any witnesses wandered by.

Report - interrogation, more like, especially when one of the agents who had been assigned to ask her questions about the incident was one she recognized as being brought in for the tough, hard to read suspects - over, Penny was given leave to go back to her room.  She quickly passed the door and gave a brief knock on Cam’s instead, waiting less than a heartbeat before slipping inside.

The room was dark and cool, but she could see the shape of Cam in his bed.  “Penny?” he asked, his voice thick and groggy with the painkillers Elidor had given him.  Luckily, his healing abilities had kicked in and he’d been given a good recovery prognosis, though Elidor had warned him that he’d be sore in the morning.

“I’m here.”  She was lucky that she’d been given permission to shower and change into her own clothes someone had grabbed from her room for her, or else she would have been a mess while being questioned and covered head to toe in drying, tacky blood.  Luckily, the Agency stocked their showers with products meant to wash blood away so the vampires and other beings who were tempted by the scent were left undisturbed.  Had her pale hair been stained with it, she would have been tempted to take scissors to her waist length tresses to remove the evidence of her frenzied rage.  “How are you feeling?”

He sighed and the sheets rustled as he moved. “Sore, tired.  How are you?”

“Tired.”  She kept sick to her stomach and repulsed locked behind her teeth.

He patted the empty space beside him.  “There’s room for two.”  He winced as he moved to give her space and she quickly slid under the bedding to lie on her side facing him.

“I was afraid,” she whispered, hands reaching for him.

Cam held onto her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss.  “I’m here, mo leannan.  I’m not going anywhere.”

She curled her hand to trace the curve of his cheek, fingers gliding over his jaw.  “No, I wasn’t afraid of you dying, well, I was, but that wasn’t what I meant.”  She looked away.  “I was afraid that you wouldn’t want me after.”

“Penny…”

“I was a monster, Cam.  The things I did…” She took a shuddering breath.  “I wasn’t in control of myself, I was feral, ripping those people into shreds because they hurt you.”

“Then the fault of that lies on me, not you.  Had I not allowed them to get in as many hits as they had, you wouldn’t have had reason to fight the way you did.”

Her eyes snapped open and she shook her head.  “No.  Don’t blame yourself for what happened.  They thought that we were easy targets and…”

Cam reached out and pressed his forehead against hers.  “If I’m not allowed to blame myself, you aren’t allowed to blame yourself either.  Those Trappers were after supernaturals, and they found them.  What happened to them was a risk that they took, and luckily for us, it ended the way it did.”  It didn’t take much to lean in to brush a soft kiss across her lips, and even though his body protested, he pulled her closer still until their bodies were touching.  “You’re no monster, mo chridhe, and don’t ever think that I wouldn’t want you.”

There was such a swell of emotions in her chest, but she didn’t know how to express them.  “Get some rest,” she said instead, pausing long enough to give him a lingering kiss, her fingers sifting through his hair.  “I’ll be here in the morning.”

He grinned against her lips.  “You only say that because I have a private bath with plenty of hot water to spare.”  Cam laughed as she softly smacked him in the shoulder.

“It’s a perk,” she mumbled, moving so she could rest her head on his shoulder, her leg curving over his and her arm draping over his chest.  “If you’re feeling better tomorrow, I may even share the hot water with you.”

Cam pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, his hand finding hers and lacing their fingers together over his heart.  “Best incentive to get better if I’ve ever heard one.”  He gave their joined hands a squeeze.  “Sleep.  I’ll keep the nightmares at bay.”

Penny snuggled closer, tipping her head to press her lips against his collarbone.  After being partners for so many years, Cam knew that she had a tendency to have nightmares after particularly violent missions, even ones that didn’t end with casualties.  That he would worry for her well-being, even as he recovered from his own injuries, made her love him all the more.

She fell asleep in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, slept completely free of nightmares.

[greendragonqueen]

How to Fix Arwen

And no, I don’t mean the elf princess from Lord of the Rings, she is perfect and I love her.

No, I’m talking about the ship Arwen, from Merlin.

(I know, ya’ll fucking surprised that I’m still talking about Merlin. Neither am I.)

Well I’m here to talk about this ship, because out of all of the ships on this show, this one was the most canon and yet felt the most pushed. The most forced. 

I mean I love the idea, I am a HUGE fan of the original Arthurian Legend stories. (If you somehow did not know, Merlin was based off of the poems and stories written between 750 AD to about 1500 AD. They aren’t all consistent, but revolve around King Arthur, his knights, and the world they lived in. These poems are all collectively called ‘Arthurian Legend’.) Their relationship is so complex, and it’s great. In some, Guinevere is a loyal and loving queen, others are malicious and are willing to stab Arthur (and really anyone she doesn’t like) in the back the moment she can get a chance, and the most recent versions (see Mallory’s work) are good people, but just don’t love Arthur. In some, Arthur takes Guinevere for granted, giving her sympathy for whe she betrays him, in some he is an absolutely doting husband, making her betrayal (if she does betray him) all the more painful for him.

There’s a reason why this relationship is up there in iconic relationships with Romeo and Juliet (and only being surpassed by Guinevere and Lancelot) and it’s because it’s such an enticing relationship. It’s complex, you don’t know what’s going to happen next. There’s literally so many options for how the writers of Merlin could have taken the relationship! But instead, we got what we got, which felt like a half assed, half baked, attempt to literally shove all of the complexities of their relationship into one big mess.

I mean literally, season two was supposed to have Merlin and Morgana in a relationship, but they decided against it because ‘they didn’t want to take away from Arthur and Gwen’s relationship’. So essentially they wasted one relationship, and squandered another. If they had written a good version of Gwen and Arthur’s relationship, I would have at least understood why my ship didn’t get the attention it deserves, but they didn’t.

But we still love the idea of a king falling in love with a servant. They are two adorable little nuggets and if we are all obsessed with destiny, then this is the biggest embodiment of destiny we can get.

So this is what I would do if I had to rewrite their ship.

First, you have to encourage the ship from the absolute very beginning, and you HAVE to keep it up, you HAVE to keep it consistent. Like, almost very first minute of the show. Like, Arthur is basically beating up Merlin in their first encounter, but Gwen walks by and tells Arthur off. (This would then lead to Merlin’s introduction to Gwen and her immediate crush on him.) And we all know that Arthur doesn’t really care for servants and peasants (I mean, for gods sake, he’s throwing knives at his unnamed servant), but he listens to Gwen. Before he listens to Merlin, he’s listening to Gwen. The other knights make fun of him for it, but he doesn’t care. And we can tell in his mind that his logical excuse is that Gwen will tell Morgana if he doesn't stop, and if there is anyone that scares Arthur more than Uther, it’s Morgana, and Arthur does not want to incur her wrath. 

But eventually, as time goes on, the reason why he stops is because he’s staring at Gwen. He can’t take his eyes off of her. She is the reason why he loses some sparring matches, but that’s much later on. We can still keep her comment ‘I would never want to marry a man like Arthur’ at the feast later, but we also need a, a look. Something that says that a tiny part of her is lying.

We need the hints right from the get go, just like we get hints right from the very beginning for Merlin and Morgana’s relationship. We see his eyes get drawn to her, we need that sparkly music. We need the whole dang ten yards, people, otherwise it’s not gonna work. 

Second, there needs to be more alone moments between Arthur and Gwen, especially early on. Moments that logically have no romantic moments in them, but you can still feel the tension. Like a creepy picture, but with romantic ideas instead, if you get what I mean. 

Like we need Gwen and Arthur going out to help Merlin and Morgana after they get into their own little shenanigans (coughcough they went on a secret date and were kidnapped by bandits because those woods seem to be crawling with  them coughcough), and bickering like an old married couple the entire way. A stranger or a knight comments on it. The two blush redder than tomatoes, and agree to never talk about it again. 

Gwen/we finally meets the hunting dogs Arthur continually talks about. Arthur tries to warn her, saying that they’re ferocious creatures, they’re work dogs, they’re trained to kill, they attack Merlin all the time if he doesn’t do exactly what they want, and before his mouth can even finish his words, Gwen has them on the floor, tongue hanging out of their mouths, giving them belly rubs and talking to them in a baby voice. Arthur doesn’t know what the fuck is happening, his jaw is on the floor, and Merlin just turns to him and says something like, “you need to take her on this trip, not me” and just walks away. All Arthur could hear was “You nee to take her” before he is left blushing like a little school girl as she doesn't realize that the prince of Camelot is staring at her.

Speaking of animals, a scene where Gwen needs help with her horse, who is refusing to listen to her. It gets so bad that the horse eventually rears up. Immediately Arthur comes running up and helps, practically saving her from getting kicked in the face. He gives her advice on what to do, telling her where their blind spots are and how you can’t stand in them, otherwise you’ll spook them, what to do to calm them down and whatnot, and while Gwen already knows about half of what he tells her, she doesn't mind, because he isn’t mansplaining to her.

Arthur and Merlin catch up to Morgana and Gwen while out in the market, and immediately offers to help carry their things. Immediately Arthur turns around and gives his things to Merlin, but Gwen rolls her eyes and immediately takes her things back. This leads to a rather funny passing around of objects from Gwen to Arthur to Merlin to Gwen to Morgana to Merlin and all the way around, until finally Arthur submits and takes the things. 

Random moment where Gwen and Morgana sneak out to the tavern to get drinks and get caught by Arthur and Merlin. It’s very funny as Gwen tries to hide her voice and the drinks and it fails spectacularly. Drinks are spilled, voices are choked on, the whole nine yards. They eventually agree to help them on the condition that they get some of the drinks too. Cue a full night of the four getting drunk off their asses on the roof of the castle, filled with laughter and stories and hangovers the next morning. It’s completely PG what they do on the roof, so no funny business. 

(Arthur and Gwen talking about Merlin and Morgana’s blooming relationship, because I can’t seem to keep them out of any Merlin post I make.)

Third, they also need more of those romantic tension moments. Those moments that are meant for romantic interests, to offer the idea of the ship. They don’t have to be that early, but they should be sooner than it was in the series. Several early episodes could be modified to fit this idea, and I bet they were intended to show this idea, but they weren’t done well. They were too far spaced and too slow, resulting the writers to need to forcibly need to pick up the pace when the time came, resulting in a sloppy building of the relationship.

The sickness episode could have been one big giant romantic interest episode, one that showed that Arthur had grown to at least care for her. Like when she is sentenced to execution, Arthur’s gotta fight against it. He's arguing with his father, he has to get dragged out by the guards. When Merlin proclaims that he has magic and that he was the one that cured her father, Arthur gets mad for more than one reason. (One, he wishes he had come up with that idea first, even though it probably wouldn’t work, and two, how dare he start going after Gwen.)

Gwen also being kidnapped and meeting Lancelot was also a good episode for this, but once again, it was slow and it was late. It needs to be pushed up a little, like around season one, perhaps. Arthur doesn’t even need Morgana’s encouragement, he’s already half way out the door before Morgana can even come in and rant. Both Merlin and Morgana are confused. They like it, but they’re confused.

Also, wasn’t the unicorn in “The Unicorn” attracted to Gwen’s purity? I feel like that’s right. If it wasn’t, then it should. Gwen is out in the woods, and the unicorn walks up to her. Against Merlin’s wishes, Arthur kills the unicorn. Afterwards, Gwen feels horrible about it, especially after learning about the curse about what happens when you kill a unicorn, and lets Arthur know about it. She rips him another one, and it breaks his heart because she is making great points and there’s tears in her eyes and its all his fault, all that sort of good stuff. Arthur watches Morgana and Gwen sneak food out of the castle, and the next time they do it, he helps, as a sort of apology. When he goes out to try and solve it, he leaves her an apology note, explaining what he’s doing. 

Also, there would also be other moments in other episodes, or even newly created episodes.

Arthur takes a page out of Merlin’s book and brings her flowers he picked. They aren’t nearly as pretty as Merlin’s were for Morgana, but Gwen giggles and knows its the thought that counts. She keeps them regardless and even dries the bundle to keep it forever.

Arthur finally learns that Gwen had kissed Merlin (on the lips, no less!) (potentially on their night drinking on the roof) and Arthur has to work through his inner turmoil and his realization that he doesn't like Gwen kissing Merlin, or more specifically Merlin kissing Gwen. No one but Morgana realizes what’s going on. I would dare to even say that the idea causes him to have nightmares about the idea, but perhaps not. Still wishy washy about that idea.

Morgana realizes Arthur’s crush on Gwen (yes, that’s how early we need to establish the roots of this relationship, that Morgana is still good and realizes that Arthur has a crush on her before Arthur even realizes that he has a crush on her), and decides to fully lean into it. She dresses her servant to the nines, even getting Merlin’s advice, for a ball, and Arthur is absolutely thrown back. He is thrown off his feet. He can barely even get a word out, much less a full sentence. And then later on Uther pulls Morgana off to the side and tells her that she can’t do that again, telling her that royals and servants can’t intermix, much like how Arthur told Merlin not to pursue Morgana.

Or better yet, take a page out of Miraculous Ladybug and have Arthur in one episode disguise his identity from everyone, including Gwen, just so that he can openly flirt with her. Hell, that could be the jousting episode! Instead of him living with her for a few days, he pretends to be someone else entirely for the jousting competition and doesn’t tell anyone (except for Merlin, because Merlin would freak), and he realizes that his disguise is so good that even Gwen doesn't even realize that it’s him. Cue the flirt master, and her gently declining him, saying her heart is saved for another man. He pressures her into telling him, and eventually she relents and tells her its the prince. Arthur has no idea how to respond.

Not to mention we need the WEDDING EPISODE. We have her coronation, but not their wedding. I mean, what the hell? Is that supposed to be their wedding? Because if it was, then it sucked.

Fourth, they need to help each other grow. We all love Merlin being the one who tells Arthur off and help him grow, but if we want this ship to work, we need Gwen to do it too. 

Arthur teaches Gwen to sword fight, not like how he taught Merlin but actually teaches her, or better yet he teaches her chess. Chess has always been known as a strategy game for Scottish kings to learn for how to move their armies, and if Arthur wants Gwen to be her queen, then why wouldn’t he teach her battle strategy? He teaches her how to escape knots and bindings “in case for the future” (this leads to some awkward moments in the bedroom). He, along with Merlin and Morgana, teach her how to read and write, because “I’m the only one in our group who never had the luxury nor the requirement to learn how to read and write” and that just can’t stand.

Gwen teaches Arthur swordsmithing, or at least convincing her father to teach Arthur how to swordsmith (which also leads to Arthur getting the approval of the relationship from Gwen’s father). This may come from Arthur continually breaking his swords, and Gwen commenting how much of a waste it is. Arthur probably wouldn’t understand and probably wouldn’t care, and Gwen would explain/go into a speech about how it would take a swordsmith, such as her father, days of tireless work to make a single sword, all for him to not even care about his swords and continue to break it. Some point, Gwen drags Arthur to the forge with the explanation “you’ll care more about your weapons if you actually make it”, and forces her father to teach Arthur how to make a sword. After all is said and done, and Arthur has grown. He still keeps his rather terrible sword, as a memento.

Fifth, once you have everything to show of the development of a relationship, there needs to be a LOT of resistance. Not just from Morgana not wanting Gwen on the throne (believe it or not, even in her deranged state, she still likes Gwen and Arthur together, she just doesn't like Gwen being on the throne), but from everyone. 

Lancelot continues to show up more since season one, and the more he shows up, the more Arthur tries to keep Gwen away from him. This leads to arguments between them, Gwen telling Arthur that she can do whatever she wants. She’s an independent woman, and while she may work for the castle, she doesn't work for him. “I’m not your wife,” she says in passing, and it only makes Arthur more frustrated. Eventually, Arthur has to confess his feelings. 

Uther somehow figures out Arthur’s interest, and forbids it. Uther will try his BEST to set Arthur up with various princesses and ladies, and Arthur literally runs away from all of them. He does not want any of them, he wants Gwen. He refuses to come home until Uther gets rid of the suitors. Eventually, Uther relents or Merlin manages to get rid of them. Either way around, it proves to Gwen and to Uther that Arthur wants her, and Uther says something around the lines like “she is a peasant, she is worth nothing.” And Arthur responds with, “But she is worth everything to me.” Uther potentially banishes her, but I’m not too sure.

 After Uther is gone and Arthur is king, Elyan arrives and becomes a knight. Once Elyan finds out that Arthur married Gwen, he does NOT approve of the relationship, and lets it be known. It even gets to the point where Arthur has to fight for her hand, again, and it’s only when he shows mercy to Elyan when Gwen asks him to that Elyan approves, when he realizes that Arthur does listen to Gwen. 

Some lords, ladies, knights, and even some peasants show their disproval of Gwen being the new queen, and let it be known specifically to Gwen. They don’t respect her, they don’t listen to her, and they call her the peasant queen, or the false queen. Both have to work together to get the people to approve of her, and even then that's something that has to be dealt with over several episodes. It’s a slow arc. 

And finally, sixth, it needs to show that both work together, not only as a husband and wife duo, but as king and queen. The two work heavily together to rule the kingdom and for their relationship, and its shown in many small moments over the final series.

The two have heavy discussions over the breakfast table about everything in the kingdom, from tax disputes to recent sprees of crimes to raising the ban on magic to servant gossip, it’s anything. 

Gwen’s pointing out advice at the battle strategy meetings, and Arthur’s listening while also seriously disputing it, like any good battle strategists would.

Arthur and Gwen have picnics outside where Arthur braids flowers into her hair. He gets pretty good at it. 

Gwen reads to him every night to help him sleep, and he freaking loves it.

I wrote about this earlier in an earlier piece, but Gwen may act in court as a perfect, studious queen, but behind closed doors she’s still the same old Gwen, and Arthur loves it. She slouches, she bickers, and no matter how many times he tells her to leave to the servants, he will catch her cleaning. Even if Merlin is in the room, she will be cleaning, because “she ordered me not to, and I can’t disobey the orders from the queen”. Arthur will even clean the whole room himself before Merlin gets in and she wakes up to stop her from cleaning. It turns out it was a ploy by Gwen and Merlin to teach Arthur to clean up after himself, and it works flawlessly.

“Merlin, where’s my cape?” “I don’t-?” He looks over, and in comes Gwen with the cape, which is much too big on her and makes her look almost look like a child, thrown over her shoulders. She gives him the derpiest looks, and with a swish and a twirl, proceeds to run away with the cape. 

Gwen keeps a booklet of things Arthur says in his sleep, which is apparently a lot. (It kind of makes Arthur calling Merlin’s name out into the night a little less weird, because apparently he says everyone’s name in his sleep.) One of the sweetest things he says as wrapping his arms around her waist is, ‘No, Gwen, I love you too much to let you boil our hobgoblin grandchildren’. It was confusing and terribly sweet, even though it made Gwen laugh and made Arthur wake up.

 Finally, Arthur holding out his hand for her to take to dance with him at every banquet, like a teenager asking a girl out to a dance, and it never, ever gets old. 

Point is, we need to make this relationship feel real. We need those small moments and that growth to make it feel real and alive and shippable. 

[milk-karton-kids]

Prodigal Son Fic

Oh look another Prodigal Son Fic

Word Count: 2k

Rating: PG-13 for violence and bodily harm

Pairing: Malcolm x Dani but lowkey

The mission was simple: get in, disarm the killer, save the hostage, and get everyone out- alive. Just because the mission was simple, however, didn’t mean it was going to go smoothly.

First of all, they weren’t even sure if they were at the right location. Malcolm had tried his best with the clues the killer had given them, but there were two locations that had fit the description and the killer’s past perfectly, meaning they were forced to split up- Dani and Malcolm here, at the killer’s childhood home, now overgrown with vines and crumbling architecture- and JT and Gil at the also now-abandoned Woodrow Heights Mental Institution. Both teams had their walkies on and tuned into the same channel to communicate, but it didn’t change the fact they were down half the team on each end.

“Understand the plan, Bright?” Dani asked, strapping on her bulletproof vest.

“Yes, get in, disarm the killer, save the hostage, and get everyone out alive,” Malcolm repeated.

“Good, now stick to it,” Dani scolded, locking eyes with Malcolm. Hers were dark, fierce and intense. 

The radio crackled to life, breaking Malcolm away from her gaze.

“Going in now, you two good?” Gil asked.

“Heading in now too,” Dani answered, still watching Malcolm as he adjusted his own vest and placed his gun in his hand.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Dani and Malcolm ran, still crouched, where they had been hiding on the other side of Dani’s car.

The reached the side of the house and skirted along the wall until Malcolm reached the corner and peaked his head out quickly. 

“Clear.”

Malcolm ran to the side of the door and peaked in again.

“I should really be going first,” Dani mentioned, and Malcolm looked at her before looking back in the doorway and clearing Dani to go in ahead of him.

Dani took the left side of the foyer and Malcolm took the right. When they had cleared the bottom floor, they met back up. 

“Alright, let’s-”

All of a sudden they heard a scream from upstairs.

Malcolm and Dani’s heads shot up to the ceiling and then to each other. They ran for the stairs.

“Gil, we got something,” Dani whispered into her walkie. 

“Be careful you two,” Gil’s voice crackled over the radio.

Dani was the first to the top of the stairs where she paused and looked around.

They didn’t hear anything further, so Dani took the left side of the house again while Malcolm took the right. It was in the furthest bedroom at the end of the hall that Malcolm saw a woman tied to a chair with a gag tied around her head through the crack in the door. Her dark hair was messy and had small twigs and leaves in it, and when she turned, Malcolm noticed how red her eyes were and could see the clean tear tracks down her dirty cheeks. When she spotted Malcolm, her eyes widened, and Malcolm quickly raised a finger to his lips, but it was futile: the killer had noticed her reaction and the crack Malcolm was looking through was suddenly filled with the looming figure of a man much larger than Malcolm. Malcolm had enough time to smile sheepishly before the man grabbed his vest and pulled him inside, slamming the door and locking it shut. The man managed to rip Malcolm’s gun away from him and tuck it into the waistband of his pants. They heard footsteps running down the hall and the next thing he knew, Dani was banging on the door. 

“Bright? Bright! Bright, are you alright?!”

“I’m fine, Dani, I’m fine!”

“Shut up, or I’ll hurt your girlfriend,” the man snarled, lifting Malcolm off the ground and shaking him.

Wow, the bad guys really do say that, Malcolm thought to himself before he was tossed across the room.

His head hit the wall and when Malcolm came to, he was crumpled up on the floor. He looked up, dizzy, and through the vertigo he spotted the killer holding a knife to the woman’s throat. His MO was less about the method of killing and more about what he did about the bodies after, but Malcolm was determined not to let him get that far this time.

Dani was still pounding on the door when Malcolm sat up, holding a hand to his head. 

“Well, would you look at that? Our boy’s awake.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

The man chuckled. 

Malcolm reasoned he couldn’t have been out for more than a minute, however, he knew he needed to buy time for Gil and JT to get here. Even with them here, it didn’t change the fact he was locked in the room with the killer, meaning he would have to disarm the man himself. 

Holding his hands up in a gesture of no harm intended, Malcolm slowly stood up.

“You don’t have to do this,” Malcolm told the killer.

“I know, I want to,” he smiled menacingly. Malcolm saw that his teeth were blackened and crooked.

“James- that is your name, isn’t it? James?”

The man didn’t reply.

“I know you grew up here, and I know what happened to you in this house. I know what it’s like to feel betrayed by a father. What he did to you was wrong. I know you think that;s what made you who you are, but you can change, take control of your own life.”

“I have taken control of my life,” James replied.

“Why, then?” Malcolm asked, suddenly switching tactics, and slowly taking a step forward. “Why kill?”

“Because it feels good.”

Malcolm took another step.

“And what about after. The bodies? How you display them? Like works of art. Why? What makes them works of art?”

James hesitated, like even he himself didn’t know the answer to. Malcolm, however, did. 

“The world is so ugly, and bad things happen to innocent people. You make something beautiful to balance that out.” It was a reach, but Malcolm was just trying his best to stall while he slowly moved forward, wondering when Gil and JT would arrive.

Dani had finally stopped banging on the door and instead was trying to find something to break it down, Malcolm assumed.

He took another step forward.

“They are beautiful,” Malcolm commented, trying to win the killer’s favor and put him more at ease. “Especially for someone with no prior medical or butcher experience. You’ve done really well.”

“I taught myself. I’ve taken control of my life,” Jame repeated.

Another step.

Malcolm could almost touch the knife.

“You have,” he agreed, and took one last step, “So let’s put the knife down and-”

Suddenly a change in emotions was revealed in the murder’s expression, and he whipped the knife away from Malcolm’s tremmoring hands. Malcolm quickly mirrored his movements and went back on the defense.

James swung the knife down at Malcolm but Malcolm ducked and rolled away towards the corner of the room.

Knees bent, Malcolm hovered in a defensive position while James charged at him. Malcolm lunged for his legs and managed to take him down, but at the same time, James had managed to stab at Malcolm’s back through the bullet-proof vest. The tip of the blade pierced Malcolm’s skin and Malcolm let out a howl, but managed to escape James’ grasp. There was nowhere for him to go, however. He was in an empty room with a killer and his victim tied in a chair, and the only escape was the window or to reach the door and unlock it. Even if the fall from the window didn’t leave him paralyzed and he had time to unlock the door and run out, he was only sealing the fate of the woman behind him. Malcolm needed that knife, and so again he struck, this time up high.

James was able to duck under Malcolm’s fist and, off-balance, Malcolm wasn’t able to defend himself. He felt the knife sink into his leg right as the door to the room burst open and Gil, JT, and Dani burst into the room, guns drawn. In his surprise, James let go of the knife.

Without a second thought Malcolm pulled the knife out from his leg with a scream and hobbled over to the women tied up. Bleeding profusely, Malcolm first untied her gag and then went to work cutting the rope from her wrists with the blood-soaked knife. Malcolm stood up from where he was crouched behind the chair and watched his team handcuff James and lead him our of the room. Malcolm walked to the front of the woman and hugged her tightly. She started to cry again in his arms and he didn’t let go until she had settled down. JT and Dani came back upstairs. JT wrapped an arm around the woman and Dani did the same for Malcolm after bandaging his leg and the four of them hobbled down the stairs.

“My gun,” Malcolm huffed.

“We got it. Try not to loose it again.”

Malcolm nodded, which caused him to loose his balance. Dani straighted him back up.

“Take it easy, Bright,” she cautioned. “You did good.”

Malcolm smiled as best as he could through the pain and leaned his head on Dani’s shoulder.

Once James was secure in the patrol car and the woman had been sat in the back of Gil’s replacement car, they helped Malcolm into the passenger side of Dani’s car.

“Get him home and fix him up,” Gil pointed.

Dani rolled her eyes and got into the driver seat of her car. Malcolm was leaning up against window, eyes closed.

Dani looked down at his leg and noticed the blood soaking through the bandage she’d gotten from the first-aid kit in her car. 

The ride to Malcolm’s apartment was silent, and Dani helped him walk through the door of his apartment and up onto the platform his bed was on, sitting him down on the edge. She quickly glanced at the chains on the floor and then went into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water. Looking around as she filled up the glass, she noticed that he didn’t have any food in the kitchen aside from a glass jar of black twizzlers on the counter. She sighed and shut the faucet off. 

“Bright, what do you want for dinner?” she asked, but Malcolm was already fast asleep in his bed. She noticed that not only had he neglected to take his shoes off, but he hadn’t even bothered to place the cuffs on his wrists.

Dani set the glass down on his nightstand and sat down on the edge of his bed, fearing he would wake up in a terror and hurt himself. She’d sit there all night if she had to.

In less than two hours Malcolm started to shift in his sleep, and Dani turned to look at him. His forehead was sweaty and his wound had started to bleed again, and as he twisted and turned she noticed blood underneath him from a wound she hadn’t known about.

“Bright, BRIGHT!”

Dani grabbed his shoulders and shook him awake.

He sat up, panting, eyes shooting open, a grimace of pain crossing his face.

“Steady, Bright,” Dani told him. He looked around and noticed her phone on the bed next to her. It was open to her text messages with Gil.

“You’re alright now.”

Dani let Malcolm slouch on her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and order some dinner.”

“Aren’t you going home?” Malcolm whispered, throat dry. Dani handed him the glass she’d placed on the nightstand.

“Gil wants me to stay.”

Malcolm took long, deep gulps until the glass was empty. He handed it back to her.

“Do you want to stay?” He asked. His eyes had that innocent puppy look.

Dani paused for a moment. 

“Yeah,” she finally said. “I want to stay.”

[hillnerd]

Waking Up - Chapter 1

Rating PG-13      A03   ff.net      Chapter word count- 6791  

fic summary: The war is over, but there’s still plenty of battles ahead for Hermione and Ron. Her parents are still in Australia, Ron is hiding secrets, and she has to wonder when she’ll wake up and it’s not from a nightmare. My version of an ‘Australia fic’ - Romione abounds Thank you to @abradystrix for the betaing and birtpicking! :) Thanks to @amysthefardareismai for a quick look over as well! 

Chapter warnings:  cursing, graphic descriptions of violence, romantic touching

Chapter 1-  Hiding Spots and Whisks

The spell ripped through her. She was sure that muscles tore away from bone. She was flayed, raw and screaming. Ropes cut into her skin. Her back arched unnaturally. All she could feel was the pain searing through her, again and again. Unrelenting pain. 

Please kill me...

And then it stopped, and she let out a pitiful cry, rocking back and forth as much as the ropes would allow. 

“I think the Mudblood enjoys it. Otherwise it wouldn’t continue to lie.”

She brokenly sobbed. Every muscle spasmed, and all strength left her. She couldn’t even twist her face away as Bellatrix Lestrange’s nails cruelly dug into her jaw.

“That filthy goblin will reveal your lies, and when he does, nothing will be able to save you,” Bellatrix whispered in her ear. Hermione whimpered, trying to repeat that the sword wasn’t theirs, but she couldn’t speak. Her tongue was slack and nerveless.

“The sword is the true sword of Gryffindor,” the little goblin declared.

An unholy shriek wrent from Bellatrix. She roughly pulled Hermione to her feet and snapped back her neck. All Hermione could see was the chandelier. A knife was brought to her neck and painfully pressed into her flesh.

“Let’s see how filthy that blood is.”

The knife tortuously sawed through her larynx. Blood was choking her, and gushing down her body. Was she was dying from the wound, or from drowning in her own blood?

With a gasp, Hermione woke up, hands going to her throat. 

Her throat had not been slit; it was whole, with only had a small scar marring the otherwise smooth skin. She wasn’t in Malfoy Manor being tortured. She was at the Burrow, probably one of the safest homes in all of England. 

She gave a cold shiver. The patchwork quilt was wet through with perspiration, and her clothes clung to her. Her throat felt raw, which meant she had been screaming in her sleep again. 

The silencing charm seemed to have held for another night, as Ginny was sleeping away in the bed beside hers. She puckered her lips to give a small whistle, but no sound came with the blow of air. Good. The charm was still working perfectly. With a wave of her wand she undid it. 

There was no point in trying to fall asleep; she never could after a vivid nightmare like that one. She snuck out of the room and walked down the wooden steps to the sitting room with practiced ease. Making the journey almost every night, she had quickly learned how to avoid the creakiest floor boards. Her path along the hallway was pitch black, but the last bit of moonlight illuminated the sitting room, along with the earliest tinges of morning light. 

In the darkness at the end of the sofa sat Ron. She wasn’t surprised to see him. He’d been down there almost every night the past few weeks. It didn’t matter if it was midnight or four in the morning, there he’d be, as if keeping watch for the house. She didn’t think anyone but herself and perhaps his parents knew. She'd heard his mother admonishing him for his poor sleep habits, having come across him early in the morning.

From what Hermione gathered, he almost never went to bed until someone else was up, as if he were still taking watch outside that horrid tent. He would hold his wand and stare out the window, for hours sometimes. On a few nights where she hadn’t felt like talking to anyone, she’d sat on the steps from the first landing and watched him pace back and forth, occasionally taking breaks to sit and bounce his knee. He didn’t even have much of a lie in the following morning. He looked exhausted, but continued on as if nothing had happened, waking early and tending to everyone in the house like he was fine. 

Tonight he was hunched over his chessboard. He grimaced in pain as he rubbed at his left shoulder. Fingers dug along his trapezius, before he gave a rough roll of his shoulder, stretching it around a bit. He let out a hiss, whether in pain or relief she couldn’t say, until he gave a small smile and stretched, rotating his hand with a satisfied look on his face.

Hermione slid her feet along the floor a little louder than necessary to announce her presence. She knew better than to startle him, otherwise she would meet a wand pointed in her direction. Of course, this was true of almost everyone after the war. Harry was the fastest draw, but Ron was a close second, with equally flayed nerves and fast reflexes. 

“You should be in bed,” Ron chastised, but his actions belied his admonishment. He budged over and patted the sofa for her to sit beside him, which she happily did. 

“Have you even been to bed yet?” 

“Yeah, but I can only sit and listen to Harry’s snoring and moaning about my sister in his sleep for so long.” Ron had great purple bags under his eyes, but he skillfully changed the topic and she was too groggy headed to pursue it further.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to sit in the dark like this just because you’re having trouble sleeping. It can’t be good for your eyes.”

“I don't want to wake anyone with lights,” Ron said with a tight shrug. “Past few nights Mum has scurried down the second I turned them on. She needs the sleep more than anyone. Plus, I wanted to be alone.”

“I'm sorry I intruded,” she apologized. She knew how hard it was to be around people anymore. Of course he needed an escape. Especially from her! She was rotten company anyway. “I'll just scarper back— ”

She moved to get up, but he put a staying hand on her arm and gave her a faint smile.

“I'm happy to be alone with you, though,” he said, smoothing a bit of her hair behind her shoulder, his hand lingering around her jawline.

“Oh!” she replied, a smile breaking across her face. Her cheeks burned as she settled in and leaned into his good shoulder. It wasn’t as bony as it had been even a few weeks ago. He was back to having a deceivingly solid build for one so tall and thin.

He was always handsome to her, but the hunger they had experienced while they were runaways had made them all rather emaciated. During the war it was hard to take in the gradual changes they had gone through physically. In the fleeting moments they’d changed clothes in front of each other there wasn’t the time to take in each other’s forms. They were too focused on getting warm, and surviving, to even spare a glance much of the time. 

It wasn’t until they were at the Burrow, scrubbed clean of all the muck and dust that Hermione could finally see how hollow they all were. Ron had looked the most normal of them. He had always been tall and thin with broad shoulders, so no matter how much weight he lost, the width of his shoulders basically stayed the same size. He looked almost his usual self when dressed.

Normally Molly Weasley would practically be force feeding them, but the loss of her son kept her out of the kitchen. She stayed sequestered in her bedroom, sobbing for well over a week, barely leaving the room except for the myriad of funerals. Ron and Fleur had taken over the task of feeding everyone during the first weeks after the war. 

A few days after Fred’s funeral, Mrs Weasley finally started taking an interest in her remaining family again. She had little energy for cooking, but enough to start working on healing them all up a bit more properly. 

One by one she sat them down and used a number of spells and tonics on the scars they’d picked up. Hermione thought Mrs Weasley’s ministrations would be wasted, given how long ago their injuries had been, but she was able to achieve great progress on a few of the burns and scars. 

One morning Hermione had come downstairs to see Ron shirtless in the living room, his mother tending to his shoulder to see if she could heal it any better.

“You did a number on yourself, Ron, splinching yourself like this,” she heard the matron tut at him. It was Hermione’s fault he’d been splinched so horribly, but he said nothing to correct his mother. 

Hermione had quietly tried to read in the corner, but her eyes kept going to his body, specifically his left shoulder and the terrible scarring that was all her fault. She realized that day how skeletal he’d become. 

His ribs, even the ones near his collar bones, were all apparent, the knobs of his spine far too pointed, and his hip bone, just visible from his sagging jeans, stuck out like a handle.

After that, his mother seemed to see it as her personal mission to make them plump up again. The boys were able to tear into her meals with fervor and pack on the pounds quickly, but Hermione found it difficult to eat much of anything. 

Eating Molly Weasley’s cooking for weeks had Ron filled out almost magically fast, and with it Hermione realized that he was broader of shoulder and taller than ever before. His threadbare clothes were all far too small for him, and no stretching charms could make them fit him much better at this point. She quite liked it when his jeans were a bit too tight, but she had never dared tell him that. 

For all the ways their relationship had changed and brought them closer, there were still boundaries she hadn’t dared to cross. She’d been able to cover up her nightmares from him for weeks. She didn’t want anyone to know, but she especially wanted to keep the nightmares from Ron. 

It was not just her that he was always watching over. He was watching over everyone. He was carefully watching Harry and prodding him to come out of his shell. He was watching his mother and making sure nothing disturbed her when she was in a somewhat calm mood. He was watching his brothers and making sure they got along. He was hunting down George and making sure he got home in one piece after drinking a bit too much. He was watching his father and making sure he had privacy when he was about to cry. He was looking after his sister, to make sure Harry and she were getting on. And he was suspiciously watching any stranger who came near them whenever they ventured from the confines of the Burrow.

He’d watched his brother die right in front of him, and he was doing his best to comfort everyone. He was so overwrought, she didn't want to burden him further. 

“You’re being quiet,” Ron commented, not for the first time in the last few weeks. 

She gave a sigh. Her mind was buzzing, but blank. She felt like her mind had been put through a french press, and all that was left was the grounds to be thrown out with the rubbish. 

Even if she had her wits about her, it's not like she could sit and tell him about the fascinating day she’d had. Most days she sequestered herself in a dark corner and pretended to read until she nodded off. Anything interesting he’d probably seen, as they were quite joined at the hip. Under no circumstances would she tell him about her nightmares.

She gave a shrug, and wove her hand into his. 

"I suppose I'm just tired.”

And she was. Her whole body ached and she longed to curl up where she sat for a long nap. She wasn’t even missing out on that much sleep in the scheme of things. She might have been woken by horrible nightmares, but she was getting so much sleep during the day she didn't see how anyone could still be so tired. Of the two of them, it was Ron who didn't sleep, yet he seemed more capable than ever.

Ron hummed in response.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk? It's four thirty in the morning!”

“And who doesn’t enjoy a good early morning walk?” He rose and offered a hand to her. “Personally I think they’re meant for a comeback.”

“You do love an underdog,” she replied, taking his hand, which pulled her to standing with ease. 

He grabbed jackets and wellies from the scullery. They had a small collection of weathered canvas jackets, all smelling of hay and bonfires. She felt quite dwarfish when she put on the heavy jacket and its sleeves fell past her fingers by nearly a foot. 

Ron laughed as she struggled to fold the heavy fabric back from her hands.

“Here, let me.” Ron folded the fabric up her arm in a sweet doting way.

“Merlin, you’re tiny. This is the smallest one they have!” he said, as he finished the job and held her hand in his own.

“Why don’t you have a small one for Ginny or your mum? Neither of them are taller than I am.”

“Oh they just wear the same ones we do if they happen to need them. Plus it’s not like Ginny was made to shovel chicken coops, or dig up fence posts. Her chores were always more domestic.” 

The tiniest bit of morning light was beginning to peek from behind the hills, catching a few clouds and staining them pink.

“We can watch the sun rise soon,” Ron said, seeing where her eyes were looking. 

“It's funny. Technically I know when sunrise is, but somehow it always surprises me how early it starts getting light.”

“I think that’s because you grew up in the city.”

“Why would that make a difference?”

“Well, when you grow up in the country you get pretty familiar with getting woken up early to do the chores before it gets hot.”

“I don't remember you waking up early for anything,” she teased.

“Course I did. We all had to at least a few times a week. We had a chart and everything for whose turn it was to feed the chickens, check the fences, get eggs and veggies. I never was a morning person, of course, so half the time I’d just go back to bed as soon as I was done with my lot.”

"I never once noticed.”

“Well you were asleep, weren’t you, city girl?” Ron cheekily grinned as he easily hopped the wooden three rail fence they’d come upon. She struggled with her footing and awkwardly tried to climb it rail by rail. She’d never been particularly athletic or balanced, and found getting her boot over was a predictably unsteady affair. She had just managed to awkwardly straddle the fence when Ron put his hands at her hips, taking most of her weight and guiding her to the grass.

She gave her thanks and gave him a shy, but pleased, smile. He’d become more and more bold with touches here and there, but also a bit more tender and gentlemanly in how he looked after her. He’d always been chivalrous when it came to defending her, of course, but now he was practically gallant on a daily basis, putting out a hand to assist her, pouring her tea, holding an umbrella for her as they walked outside. 

He had his elbow out for her to hold as they journeyed through some longer grass that hid a bevy of roots that she nearly lost her footing on. If it weren’t for his heavy cursing and deep dose of sarcasm, he could easily fit into a historical romance novel from the way he doted on her. 

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, looking around at the unfamiliar bit of field. 

“To get a better view of the sunrise.” 

Ron got to a tall tree and began hoisting himself up its branches.

“Ron! I can’t climb the tree in—in wellies! I can’t bend my ankles enough to do that in these and I’m not much for climbing, if I’m honest.”

"I know that,” Ron laughed, his upper body disappearing among some leaves. “Stay there a moment.”

“Oh don’t worry, I'm keeping my feet firmly on the ground! I don't care how good the view is, I'm not climbing that tree!”

“As fun as it’d be to see you try, that’s not the plan.”

In the twilight the upper branches were still blue hued and hard to make out. If not for the loud rustling of the branches, Ron would be easy to miss.

“There it is!” he cried in triumph. His feet dangled, as if he’d taken a seat. “Stand back!”

A wood and rope ladder clattered and unrolled itself from the tree before magically becoming rigid and straight as any staircase, complete with rope handrails. 

“Come on up!”

She smiled as she easily ascended the stairs to join him. There was a little wooden platform, not much longer or wider than a bench. She wasn’t afraid of heights, she liked to tell herself, but she also didn’t enjoy them and would avoid them whenever she could. 

Seeing her hesitation Ron rolled his eyes.

“There’s a barrier around the edge I just reinforced. You couldn’t fall off if you tried.”

He flicked a twig at the edge and it fell no further than the edge of his trainers.

She sat beside him and leaned against his shoulder.

“I imagine that spell was your mother’s work?” 

“Dad’s. We have a couple of these tree blinds hidden around. We’d sort of half-arsedly build them, then Mum or Dad would put protective spells around it so we don’t break our necks or something. This one was usually Charlie’s getaway place. And the- the twins… They were always trying to follow him up, so Dad put in some spells to make it safer if any of us weaseled our way up, but still afforded Charlie some privacy.”

“I can just imagine you all now: sticky fingered,muddy knees, running about the property, climbing any tree you come across and throwing rocks into the pond to watch the ripples.”

“It was pretty nice, yeah,” he said with a pained smile. 

“It sounds like the idyllic wild sort of childhood that I’d only been able to wish for.”

“Your childhood never sounded so bad to me.”

“It wasn’t bad at all, really. I had everything I needed, and it was quite lovely most of the time. It just afforded very few places to commune with nature. I remember loving the local hardware shop my father would take us to when he had some home project to take care of. They had a wonderful garden area I loved to get lost in. I’d pretend I was in the jungle like the Swiss Family Robinson, and wanted a house like theirs so badly.”

“So are these, like, famous Muggles or something?”

“They’re a made-up family in a book. They got shipwrecked on a tropical island and had to make do. They built an amazing treehouse in the film, and we watched it every Christmas. It wasn’t a particularly Christmassy movie, but it was a tradition of sorts for us.”

“Dad would fish out the ornament boxes from the attic, cursing the whole time as he crawled in the cramped attic. Mum and I would make hot chocolate and hang the lights on the tree. It was a tradition that the tree would remain clear of everything but the twinkle lights until the whole family was together. Then we’d put the ornaments on together. We’d try to time it out so we’d put the star on top of the tree as the song ‘O Christmas Tree’ played in the film.”

Hermione could remember her father trying to time it out year after year and they made it a sort of family challenge to get it right. They’d only properly managed twice, but the large whoops of glee they’d given had drowned out the film. 

The last time they’d done it, was the Christmas of her sixth year. One by one they’d each hang ornaments. ‘Baby’s first Christmas,’ woven lolly stick stars, fine German ornaments, and a few ugly old plastic electric ornaments from the 70s. Those had little child figures spinning in them that would short out the room if they were all plugged in to the same power strip. All the ornaments were placed on the tree with equal care. Her family grinned ear to ear at one another. 

They were so happy. What had her parents done this year? Hermione had left the ornaments in the attic as she didn’t have time to sort out the ones connected with herself, or that had their former names on them. Had she ruined their Christmas? Had they continued the tradition without Hermione? It wasn’t like it was their first Christmas without her. She’d skipped four in a row, from ages thirteen through sixteen. 

“That sounds loads nicer than Celestina Warbeck,” said Ron. “I’ve never seen a film. Was the Swede Family Robins alright?”

“Swiss Family Robinson. It’d probably be slow paced for most people, as it’s an older movie that came out back when my parents were just kids. It made quite the impression on me nonetheless. I begged and begged for a treehouse like the one in the film, but they said I’d grow tired of it too quickly and that it wasn’t worth the danger of me falling. I tried to make myself a secret fort under a large rhododendron bush and got a good scolding from my nanny for it when she saw I’d dragged a nice table cloth in there. She tried to get me to leave, and I wouldn’t. No matter how she grabbed for me, she couldn’t get a hold of me. It was one of my first bits of magic. She thought I was wiggling out of her grasp somehow, but her own arm had gone rubbery and useless every time she thrust it into my little fort.”

“How old were you when you had this little adventure?” Ron laughed.

“Oh, four or five. And don’t make fun!”

“I’m not! I just like picturing that angry little look on your face. I can see it now, so tiny with hair twice as wide as your body, curled up with a book in your little fort, all excited for a piece of adventure and rebelling against nannies,” he said, with a warm smile. “Did any of your friends have a playhouse or something you got to adventure in?”

“Oh… Well, I didn’t… There weren’t many children in my neighborhood, and I attended a small Church of England primary school, so even if I had friends, it was quite a lot of work to see anyone, make arrangements to be driven over and everything, so I didn’t.”

“So it was just you and some posh nanny?”

“Well don’t think me a terrible snob for having a nanny. Both my parents worked, so there was no one else to tend to me until I was old enough to attend school all day,” she rattled off, a bit embarrassed by her relative privilege. She felt silly complaining about it now. The poor little rich girl who didn’t get a tree house!

“Sounds a bit lonely,” he said, with a sympathetic look.

It had been lonely. Sometimes it felt like he could see right through her. Until Hogwarts Hermione had never had any real friends. There were a few children here or there that she’d gotten to play games with, but no real friends. Her parents were very loving and gave her every opportunity, but it wasn’t like the loud warm familiar household of the Weasleys. In some ways her somewhat distant parents made it easier for her to leave for Hogwarts. You couldn’t miss what you didn’t get to see much of. She never resented it. It was just how things were. It also made it much easier to lie to her parents. She lied and lied, then finally just erased herself from their minds, and they’d never forgive her for it.

Hermione shivered at the thought and brought her knees to her chest.

“Well, that’s enough about me,” she said, trying to center herself. She plastered a smile on. “Did you have a hiding spot like this tree house?” 

Ron jerked up sharply. The warm smile and deep eye contact he’d been giving her broke.

“No nothing like this.”

He stared down at his hands and began to fidget and pick at his cuticle. She wondered what could have caused such a change in him, but perhaps it was just memories of Fred. She hated how good memories could become so painful. She gave his hand a squeeze and after a moment his big warm hand squeezed back.

“There it is,” said Hermione as the sun began to peek over the hill. The puffball clouds became a lovely mix of peach and coral. “This really is a spectacular view. Thank you for— Ron, you’re bleeding!”

Ron blinked before confusedly looking about himself. She grabbed his left hand and inspected it. He’d ripped the cuticle so deep it made her wince in sympathy. It had to sting with how deep he’d torn it and how much blood there was.

“Your thumb...”

“Oh…” He blankly took his left hand from her hold and sucked the blood away. She gave a tut. 

“Don’t put your mouth on it! Your mouth has all sorts of bacteria!”

“It’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

And now he was pretending it didn’t even hurt, and he was bound to get it infected.

“Well I don’t care how fine you think it is, you shouldn’t mutilate your finger like that then introduce bacteria to it.”

“It’s really not a big deal.”

“You’ve messed up your fingers enough,” she admonished, taking hold of his hand to point to his missing fingernails. “You don’t need to mess up your thumb too.”

“Just leave it, Hermione!” he snapped, ripping his hand away and marching down the ladder, shoulders tight and high. He was a few meters away from the tree when he sighed and turned around.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…” he shook his head. “I don’t have a proper excuse. I was just thinking about— And you were pushing me and I… I’m sorry. Do you wanna continue watching the sun rise or did I bollocks it up?”

Hermione was about to shout back that he’d bollocksed it up pretty well, but stopped herself when she saw how pale he was. He was biting his lip and his hands were so clenched the knuckles had gone bone white. Something had rattled him, she just wasn’t sure what.  

“Are you alright?”

“‘M fine,” he said with a shrug. 

The magic of the sunrise had been a bit tainted. She left the light of the sunrise and stepped down the wooden steps to hold his hand. 

“How about we fix up your thumb, and then you show me your morning chores I’ve never gotten to see?”

“And I’ll try not to be such an arse.”

“And I’ll try not to be so pushy about something so minor.” 

They walked in silence, hand in hand, back to the house before Ron gave her his lopsided grin. “Was that our first fight?”

“Of course not! We’ve fought loads of times!”

“Well yeah, but never when you were my girlfriend… At least I don’t think?”

A thrill passed through her. Girlfriend! It felt silly, but she quite liked hearing him call her that. 

“You’re right,” she agreed. She was sure she had a goofy smile on her face, but she didn’t care.

“I guess I owe you a make up kiss.”

“Yes, I’d say you do.”

He gently pushed her up against a nearby tree and leaned over her. She stood on a root that helped narrow the height gap. His uninjured hand trailed up her arm before cupping her cheek and stroking it. His eyes were trailing all over her face and she couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him. The intensity of his stare made her tremble.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

“I’m thinking about it,” he said with a crooked smile. He leaned down, but missed her mouth entirely, his lips finding their way to her jaw and slowly working their way to her neck. She let out a small moan as he sucked at her pulse point, and her hands went to his copper hair. His kisses trailed back up her neck to finally find her mouth. A flush went through her as he kissed her deeply, one hand cupping the back of her head, another trailing up her side. She was just starting to kiss back with equal furor, hands on his hips when he pulled back with a hiss and jerked away from her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Er… My hand got trapped,” he explained, flexing his hand a bit.

“Oh right! We really need to fix that up.”

“Sounds good,” he said, turning away from her. “I think Dad has some Dittany and plasters in his shed.”

“No argument?” she said, following his long strides.

Ron gave a shake of his head, before giving her a tight smile.

“I figure sooner I’m fixed up, sooner I get to kiss you again.”

She beamed at that. He helped her over the gate again, and by the time they reached the shed she was quite grateful to be indoors. The morning dew had seeped through her pajama trousers and she was shivering. The shed smelled of musty wood and dust, and the floor wasn’t paved. They called it a shed, but it more resembled a small barn. Ron turned a knob and the lamp above them glowed warmly, lighting up the dark space.

She’d never been inside Mr Weasley’s shed before, and it was a fascinating sight. As Ron went to find some plasters, she took her time looking about. Everywhere she looked there were collections of Muggle paraphernalia she couldn’t imagine anyone else in the world wanting to collect. She found boxes of twisted up slinkies, wires, batteries, holographic stickers, magnets and even a box of old fashioned rotary whisk.

She’d not ever used one of the mechanical whisks before and took it out to give a quick whirl of the handle.

“Found one of Dad’s collections have you?” Ron asked looking at the whisk with a mix between embarrassment and distaste.

“Yes. I hadn’t seen one of these in a while.”

“What’s it for? No, lemme guess! Looks like it could be  a hair curler or something, doesn’t it?” he said taking another whisk from the box and haltingly moving the handle. It gave a terrible rusty clatter. “God, do all muggle things have to make such terrible sounds?”

“No they do not,” she laughed, demonstrating her own whisk. 

“Oh, hand over the good one then,” he said with a grin, giving it a test. “So is it something so people can get hair like yours?”

“Nobody would make a device to purposefully have hair like mine,” she replied with a shake of her head. She could just make out her reflection in the mirror and frantically started to comb her fingers through it. “Oh no! I look like I’ve been snogging!”

“You have been,” he laughed.

“Yes, but I don’t want to look as though I have! Your mother will be up any moment and then she’ll think I’m ghastly.”

“I doubt she’d notice.”

“How could she not! I look like a bramble patch.”

“But a very attractive one.”

“Oh! You’re no help!”

“How am I supposed to help? Use this thing?” he said holding up a whisk.

“Don’t you dare!” 

He pointed the whisk at her and gave a pretend menacing look. She gave a laughing shriek as he gave chase. She weaved and ducked out of his way as he pursued her, twirling the handle all the way. When he’d finally cornered her, she was quite breathless as they smiled at one another. His grin faded into that same piercing look from earlier. 

Her eyes fell to his lips, and she gave a rough swallow. He slowly wrapped a free hand around her waist, leaned down and kissed her again, this time so deeply she thought she might pass out from the pleasure of it. Their tongues began to dance with each other, and she felt a deep hunger growing within her that had nothing to do with food.

Her hand trailed up under his shirt and stroked against his solid frame, and his hand was making a similar journey up her top, just grazing the underside of her breast when the door to the shed burst open with a resounding crash.

They wrenched their lips apart, practically making a popping sound like a cork from a champagne bottle. 

Mrs Weasley was pointing her wand at them in a menacing fashion, but upon seeing their intimate hold her eyes went wide and she dropped her wand to her side. It took considerably longer to retract their hands from each other’s shirts.

“M-Mum!” 

“I was feeding the chickens when I heard what sounded like screaming,” she explained, face red. The sheepish look on her face quickly turned stern. “You two shouldn’t be doing that with all sorts of dangerous Muggle things about… Skulking about in the dark. You’re lucky neither of you ended up eklecktrified or worse! You should know better, Ronald Weasley. And what in the world is that?”

She said pointing to Ron’s hand. 

“Er… Hair curler?” Ron said.

“Well neither of you has use for that, now do you? Put it away before you poke out an eye or something.” 

Ron mutely nodded and put the whisk in its place, face a flaming red. Hermione imagined her face was a similar color, given the heat she could feel burning through her cheeks.

Mrs Weasley stood in the door and opened it, ushering the teens out and towards the house. They walked ahead and she marched behind them, until they reached the kitchen step. Ron made to open the door but Mrs Weasley gestured them to sit on a pair of weather worn wooden chairs beside the door.

“Now, you two, I understand something of young love and all that. Arthur and I weren’t much older than you when we got married. I won’t delude myself and think you’ve not… done certain things. After all you were off alone for months with no supervision, and you’re of age—”

“Merlin, Mum!” Ron bleated, face the shade of an overcooked radish. He seemed to know where his mother was going with this. Hermione was in pure denial. Surely Mrs Weasley wasn’t inferring that she and Ron had…. Had relations during the war? They’d barely snogged more than five or so times at this point. Hermione was mute with mortification.

“Honestly, Mum! We weren’t doing— Doing that.” 

“I saw you two not minutes ago! I have seven children, and I know where that sort of snogging leads! If you’re going to be taking things to that level of intimacy you really must make sure to use all the correct charms and potions.”

Hermione’s cheeks flamed as she closed her eyes tight in embarrassment.

 “Now Hermione, I know you won’t have learned them from your parents, of course, but do you know about contraception charms?”

“Mum! Please stop— We weren’t—!”

“If you’re caught snogging like that by your mother, you have to put up her making sure a pair of unwed teenagers don’t make a silly mistake!” She turned again to Hermione. “Ron and all his siblings were taught this, but I want to make sure you know them too, dear. You need to use it every single time. I know some people will say it feels better without it, but that’s complete rubbish! Do you know—”

“I know them, Mrs Weasley, thank you!” Hermione said, voice unnaturally high and loud. 

“We both know them, Mum! Now can you please stop!”

“Fine! But don’t make me catch you like that again!”

“Believe me, no one wants a repeat!” Ron said with a rueful shake of his head.

“Well, that’s said then. Why don’t you tend to the chickens and get some eggs, and I’ll start on breakfast. Sausage and egg sandwiches?” Mrs Weasley asked lightly, not waiting for an answer as she went back into the house.

Hermione sunk her head into her hands. 

“So….” Ron began. “That was— ”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Hermione squeaked from behind her hands. Ron gave a laugh.

“Thank Merlin the twins didn’t hear tha—” Ron cut himself off and blanched. Hermione quickly made a movement towards him, but he’d already risen from his chair, shoulders tight. She didn’t know what to say in these moments. 

Ron took a rattling breath, and Hermione was fairly certain he was stifling a sob. What would Ron do if the situation was reversed? He’d put an arm around her, let her say anything she needed, then distract her or make a joke. She was no good at jokes, but she could hold him and distract him.

She gingerly put a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. He wiped at his eyes.

“For a second I honestly forgot…” Ron said with a shrug. “What kind of bastard forgets their brother’s dead?”

She bit her lip. Seeing him hurt like this was painful. It would be so easy to start crying alongside him, but she refused her body’s instincts. The last thing he needed was her sobbing all over him.

“I think it was more a behavioral habit than you actually forgetting. You’re used to saying ‘the twins’ and noting what they’d find funny. It doesn’t mean you did something bad. It will take a while, but eventually your habits will change.”

“I don’t know if that’s not worse…”

Hermione didn’t see how that was worse, but thought it was best not to argue the point. 

“Well, if I want an egg sandwich, I’ll need to get Mum some eggs, won’t I?” Ron gave a deep sniff and smiled.

She hated the brittle smile he’d put on in these moments. 

It had been weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts, but Fred’s loss was still raw and painful for everyone. She couldn’t imagine the family would ever really recover. Fred and George were always ‘the twins.’ It wasn’t the first time someone had forgotten for a moment that Fred wasn’t alive and referred to the twins this way. It was probably why George had been holed up in a Muggle hotel for weeks. At first she thought he’d want to be home, surrounded by family. He hadn’t. 

The morning of Fred’s funeral George went missing. They looked all over for him, but no one could find him. When it was time for the funeral itself they kept waiting for George to arrive, or for him to pull some sort of prank in Fred’s honor, or do something like set off some fireworks, or turn the somber event into a joyous wake. He hadn’t. 

Angelina had tracked him down to a Muggle hotel and informed the family with a Patronus. A few of them had wanted to track George down, but in the end they decided to honor his wish to be alone. They thought he’d change his mind and come home, or start up the shop again. He hadn’t. 

Ron had looked so lost that day. The whole family had, but seeing Ron look so devoid of focus had been disturbing. Even on the Horcrux hunt, when all of them were dazed from the locket, he’d managed to be a bit sharp. Yes, he’d complained and been aimless as she and Harry, but he’d been present. It was the one day Ron had taken to see to himself. He’d gone to the funeral, then spent the rest of his day in his bedroom unable to talk. She’d held him for hours as he stared off into space. The next day he was back to catering to everyone and fixing everything. He was back to hyper focusing on everyone’s needs, and keeping himself so busy that he didn’t have time to mourn.

She couldn’t very well make him stay still, so she followed him to the chicken coop. She might not be able to fix anything for the Weasleys, or for anyone, but at least she could get them some eggs.

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[NEXT CHAPTER]

[grigori77]

Top 10 Horror Movies, like, EVER (reissued)

10.  THE MIST

In 2007, writer/director Frank Darabont once again proved he does his best work when adapting master of literary horror Stephen King (after The Green Mile and solid gold masterpiece The Shawshank Redemption), this time turning to pure horror with one of the author’s lesser-known early novellas.  The result is another tour-de-force cinematic blueprint, a taut, harrowing tale of humanity pushed far beyond the brink by unexplained supernatural events and the monstrous lengths normal people will go to to stay alive, as a small-town New England supermarket is cut off from the outside world by a mysterious, monster-filled mist.  The Expanse’s Thomas Jane proves a complex hero, beefy yet vulnerable as local artist David Drayton, leading a high-calibre cast of Stephen King-movie/TV regulars – Jeffrey DeMunn (The Green Mile), Andre Braugher (Salem’s Lot), William Sadler (The Shawshank Redemption) and Frances Sternhagen (Misery) – and “newcomers” – Laurie Holden (who must have really impressed Darabont, since he subsequently cast her alongside DeMunn in The Walking Dead), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy’s Toby Jones (as one of the most unorthodox action heroes in cinematic history) and Miller’s Crossing’s Marcia Gay Harden, pretty much stealing the film as deeply unhinged Bible-basher Mrs Carmody, who goes from unsavoury town nut to fervent cult leader as the situation grows increasingly desperate.  Darabont once again proves what an exceptional screen storyteller he can be, effortlessly weaving an atmosphere of mounting dread and knife-edge tension, as well as delivering some nightmarish set-pieces featuring magnificent Lovecraft-inspired beasties designed by The Walking Dead’s creature effects master Greg Nicotero.  When cinematic horror was becoming increasingly saturated with “gorno” Saw-derivatives, this was a welcome return to old-fashioned monster movie thrills (Darabont himself was heavily inspired by the monochrome scary movies of his childhood, and longed to make the film in black-and-white – indeed, this is definitely worth watching at least once in the “director’s cut” B&W version he included on the special edition DVD release), and not only proved one of the best examples of King on screen to date, but also one of THE key horror movies of the “Noughties”. Not least thanks to that ending, one of the greatest sucker punch twists of all time – reputedly King was most envious of Darabont on seeing it for the first time, wishing he’d thought it up himself. Coming from the King of Horror, that’s high praise indeed.

9.  30 DAYS OF NIGHT

When Steve Niles, the undisputable master of post-modern horror comics, originally came up with the concept for his definitive work, it was intended for the big screen, but he ultimately wound up committing it to print because he just couldn’t get anyone to produce it.  Interesting, then, that the comic’s runaway success led to its optioning by Sam Raimi and his production company Ghost House Pictures, Niles adapting the first volume alongside Stuart Beattie and Brian Nelson, with Hard Candy director David Slade at the helm. Of course, the concept was always a killer – for one month every year, the sun never rises over the Alaskan town of Barrow, a fact that a coven of hungry vampires have decided to exploit in a midwinter free-for-all feeding frenzy.  Josh Hartnett manfully crumbles in what remains his best role as town sheriff Eben Olemaun, ably supported by Melissa George as his estranged fire-marshal wife Stella, Memento/Batman Begins’ Mark Boone Junior as hard-as-nails town loner Bo, Ben Foster (one of my very favourite actors) as a mysterious drifter with a dark agenda, and Danny Huston, who created one of the best ever screen vampires with nihilistic pack leader Marlow. It’s ironic that David Slade should have followed this with Twilight film Eclipse (although he was an inspired choice – after all, it’s the one that DOESN’T suck) – this is about as far removed from the toothless, blood-lite young adult series as you can get, an unrelenting, gore-drenched exercise in relentless carnage and ice-cold terror.  These vamps wouldn’t be caught (ahem) dead sparkling – they’re man-shaped mako sharks, all dead black eyes and jagged teeth, gleefully revelling in slaughter and playing sadistic games of cat and mouse with the isolated townsfolk.  This is definitely not a movie for the faint of heart, and it takes itself deadly seriously right through the unapologetically bleak ending, but it is nonetheless an endlessly rewarding thrill ride for the faithful, paying respect to all the great conventions of the genre while simultaneously ripping them to shreds.  Brutal, bloody and brilliant, this is BAR NONE the best vampire movie of the post-Interview age, and very nearly my all-time favourite EVER ...

8. POLTERGEIST

1982 saw the release of TWO of my all-time fave horror movies, and the lesser (but no less awesome) of the two is what I personally consider to be THE DEFINITIVE haunted house movie.  Tobe Hooper, director of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, pretty much reinvented ghosts on the big screen with this thrilling tale of a small-town-American family, the Freelings, whose seemingly perfect home comes under the influence of a powerful supernatural force.  At first the effects are harmless – moving furniture and the like – until a night-time thunderstorm signals a terrifying escalation and younger daughter Carol-Anne (Heather O’Rourke) is sucked through a portal into the spirit world.  Long before he was the dad in The Incredibles, Craig T. Nelson had already become a pretty definitive cuddly American screen father as Steven Freeling, while JoBeth Williams is a lioness defending her cubs as mother Diane; then-newcomer Heather O’Rourke, meanwhile, is a naturalistic revelation as Carol-Anne, her innocent delivery of “They’re here!” becoming a genuine geek phenomenon all on its own, but the film’s real runaway performance comes from Zelda Rubinstein as diminutive Southern belle psychic medium Tangina Barrons, whose every screen moment is a quirky joy.  As you’d expect, Hooper’s scares are flawlessly executed, the atmospheric tension ratcheted with consummate skill, even if the director’s characteristic gore is kept to a PG-13-friendly minimum ... then again, this was a summer offering from Back to the Future producers Frank Marshall and Steven Spielberg himself, who was also the main screenwriter. Indeed, his influence is keenly felt throughout – the suburban world the Freelings inhabit is very much in keeping with Spielberg classics like Close Encounters of the Third Kind and E.T. – and there have been consistent rumours that he was all but the de-facto director on set.  The film (along with its sequels) has also gained a reputation for being cursed, with no less than FOUR cast members dying not long after (most notably Dominique Dunne, who played elder Freeling daughter Dana, who was murdered by her boyfriend just five months after the film’s release).  Whatever the truth behind these rumours, there’s no denying this is a cracking film – taut, atmospheric and consistently terrifying while also displaying a playful, quirky sense of humour and lots of heart, it remains one of the most rewarding and entertaining screen ghost stories around.

7.  BUBBA HO-TEP

Bruce Campbell is Elvis Presley!  He really is!  Although maybe he isn’t ... all right, TECHNICALLY he’s Sebastian Haff, a washed-up, long-retired Elvis impersonator languishing in a retirement home who claims he really IS the King (apparently he swapped places with the REAL Haff because he’d grown tired of fame).  Meanwhile one of his fellow residents is an old black man who claims he’s the real JFK, maintaining that President Lyndon Johnson had him dyed black and secreted in anonymity with a bag of sand sewn into the gap in his brain ... confused yet? Well hold on, cuz there’s more – the retirement home in question has been invaded by the malevolent spirit of a cursed soul-sucking mummy, and only these two fallen heroes can save the day ... yup, writer/director Don (Phantasm and John Dies At the End) Coscarelli’s initially criminally overlooked but deservedly seriously cult adaptation of Joe R. Lansdale’s novel is as typically oddball as the rest of his filmography.  It’s also his most moving and spiritual work to date – behind all the supernatural weirdness and quirky, offbeat humour this is a deeply-affecting meditation on the pains of growing old and losing your place in the world.  Bruce Campbell’s Elvis/Haff is a tragic hero, regretting his current lot and pining for former glories, but he still has the odd little twinkle of his former charm and bravado (particularly during his interactions with his nurse, played with spiky gutsiness by Ella Joyce), while screen legend Ossie Davis is stately and charismatic as “the former President Kennedy”, even when he sounds REALLY crazy.  Meanwhile the creature, “Bubba Ho-Tep” himself (Bob Ivy), is a fantastically weird creation, Coscarelli’s skilful use of atmospherics elevating him far above the “guy-in-a-suit” effects – he’s mean, cranky, and just as strong a character as his flesh-and-blood counterparts.  Coscarelli really let rip on this one – it’s chock-full of his characteristic leftfield comic-scariness (Elvis/Haff’s early encounter with one of the mummy’s scarab familiars is a particular zany gem), visually inventive and frequently laugh-out-loud hilarious, but in the end plays out on such a heartfelt, genuinely powerful and moving denouement that you can’t help getting a lump in your throat, even while it is one of those movies that leaves you with a big dumb goofy grin on your face.  It’d be pretty sweet if Coscarelli and his mate Paul Giamatti ever get their long-gestating “prequel” Bubba Nosferatu: Curse of the She-Vampires off the ground, but this is one that you can’t help loving all on its own.  See this if you’re a Coscarelli fan – it’s his best work to date – see this if you love quirky, unusual and original horror ... hell, see this if you love MOVIES. This is a true GEM, not to be missed.

6.  DOG SOLDIERS

My favourite werewolf movie is also easily one of the most offbeat – think The Howling meets Assault On Precinct 13 and you’re pretty close to the mark.  Before visionary British horror director Neil Marshall had his big break with masterpiece The Descent, he made an impressive cult splash with his feature debut, a fiendish comedy horror in which a six-man British Army unit on training manoeuvres in the wilds of Scotland stumbles upon a pack of hungry werewolves and are forced to take shelter in an isolated cottage.  With their ammo dwindling and their weapons largely ineffective against the monsters (not a silver bullet between them, of course), it doesn’t look likely that ANY of will survive the night ... setting the humour dial for JET BLACK, Marshall keeps the atmosphere tense and the substantial gore flying (I was amazed when I saw this in the cinema that it was only a 15 – even just ten years earlier stuff like this was GUARANTEED a solid 18 certificate), while the squaddies are a likeably foul-mouthed bunch with a winning, sometimes enjoyably geeky line in spiky banter (Marshall makes frequent references to everything from Star Trek and The Evil Dead to The Matrix and, in one of my favourite nods, Zulu).  Trainspotting’s Kevin McKidd is brawny but enjoyably self-deprecating as nominal hero Cooper, Sean (son of Doctor Who Jon) Pertwee gives great earthy-shoutiness as Sgt. Wells, Darren Morfitt consistently steals the film as mouthy little bugger “Spoon” (short for Witherspoon), and Game Of Thrones star Liam Cunningham injects a strong dose of dark and dangerous as Captain Ryan, the special forces operative with a sinister plan, while Emma Cleasby is far from just a token female as zoologist Megan, who came to Scotland in search of the legend and seems to have found a whole lot more than she bargained for – she’s smart, tough and flat-out refuses to be a love interest, and definitely proved a good trial run for Marshall’s all-female cast in The Descent.  It’s impressively paced – after an initial character-driven set-up so we can get to know the lads (including a fun little scare-on-top-of-a-laugh moment), the action kicks in fast and rarely lets up for the rest of the film’s tightly-packed 105 minute running time.  The set pieces are thrilling and frequently fun (particularly Spoon’s ballsy little distraction technique), and the werewolves are impressively brought to life through physical animatronics created by Image FX (the Hellraiser effects team!) and a talented troupe of stilt-walking stunt performers – no cheesy CGI here!  Altogether it marked a blinding debut for a singular, visionary sci-fi/horror talent who’s still making his presence felt – Doomsday was a delightfully old-school slice of super violent sci-fi in the John Carpenter vein, while tight, gruesome little Roman-era suspense thriller Centurion proved that a historical epic doesn’t have to be 2+ hours long with a big budget to impress, and Marshall continues to garner real acclaim through his extensive TV work on the likes of Game of Thrones. That said, I can’t wait for him to return to the big screen, preferably with more dark, edgy, blood-soaked fun like this ...

5. TREMORS

I’ve always had something of a bias towards horror movies that are also comedies, or at least that have a strong sense of humour throughout, and when it comes to funny horror movies, this brilliant throwback to cheesy 1950s monster movies is KING, baby!  While it snuck in under the radar on its 1990 release, director Ron Underwood’s sleeper universally wowed critics, word of mouth helping it to become an impressive cult smash once it hit home video ... which meant I saw it at JUST the right time, the film quickly becoming a firm fixture in my favourites lists and a major milestone in my own geek development.  The premise is simplicity itself – giant underground worms with tentacles in their mouths terrorise an isolated desert community – but underneath the goofy concept is a surprisingly sophisticated movie that continues to influence filmmakers today.  Kevin Bacon was in a bit of a career slump at the time (Footloose had been SO LONG before), but this gave him both the shot in the arm he needed and one of his most memorable roles ever – odd-jobbing slacker Val McKee, who has to get off his arse and think big to beat the beasties; Fred Ward is the perfect foil as Val’s crotchety “business” partner Earl Basset, while Finn Carter is thoroughly lovable as scientist Rhonda LeBeck, a no-nonsense smart girl who can go toe-to-toe with the boys (and manages to lose her pants WITHOUT losing her credibility), but the film is consistently stolen by Family Ties star Michael Gross as tightly wound survivalist Burt Gummer – this might be Bacon’s movie, but Gross is the real star, deservedly becoming the driving force of the film’s various sequels AND the spinoff TV series.  The film opens with a killer of a funny line, starting as it means to go on – frequently hilarious and smart as a whip, consistently defying character and genre tropes and wrong-footing the viewer almost a decade before Joss Whedon started doing the same with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, all the while balancing the belly laughs with some genuinely scary set pieces.  The worms themselves (or “Graboids”, if you want to get specific) are spectacular creations, some of the most original movie monsters out there, and they still stand up well today, just like the rest of the film.  A cornerstone of the genre that wins over new fans with each generation, this is one of those films that deserves to be remembered for a very long time, and looks set to do just that. 

4.  EVIL DEAD 2: DEAD BY DAWN

Nobody does screen chaos like Sam Raimi, particularly when it comes to his horror offerings – still his first and purest love. His original debut feature The Evil Dead is rightly considered the DEFINITIVE indie horror, and to this day remains the standard blueprint for all young, aspiring directors starting out in the genre ... it’s also a work of pure, unadulterated MADNESS once it gets going.  Raimi upped the ante with this part-remake, part-sequel, the increased budget and proper studio resources meaning he could REALLY let his imagination run riot, and the results are a cavalcade of tongue-clean-THROUGH-cheek, jet black comedic insanity that STILL has yet to be equalled.  Bruce Campbell returns as unlikely “hero” Ash Williams, thoroughly out of his depth and failing miserably to hold it together as the ancient tome of evil itself, the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis (“Book of the Dead”), unleashes a horde of undead demons on the isolated forest cabin he’s brought his girlfriend to.  Wildly expanding on the supernatural back-story of his original, Raimi and co-writer Scott Spiegel also ramped up the humour, playing the horror on the blackest edge they can, albeit cut with a hefty dose of Tex Avery – Ash’s battle with his own possessed, eventually severed hand is like some demented skit out of The Three Stooges, while the absolute comedic highlight is the ridiculously over-the-top “laughing room” sequence, in which the seemingly inanimate objects in the cabin suddenly come to life and begin to taunt Ash; add in the great wealth of re-view-friendly visual in-jokes scattered throughout and this remains Raimi’s FUNNIEST film to date. Campbell clearly had a ball, throwing himself into the action with everything he had, and he’s ably supported by a meaty (ahem) cast that includes a very pre-Slither Dan Hicks as a seriously scuzzy redneck and Raimi’s own brother Ted, virtually unrecognisable as one of the maniacal Deadites (“I’ll swallow your soul!”).  The creature effects from the great Greg Nicotero still stand up spectacularly well today (they remain some of his very best work), from hideous gurning beasts to insane fountains of blood, while Raimi’s direction is pitch-perfect, playing the humour beautifully while still (sometimes simultaneously) building up a near-unbearable atmosphere of unholy dread, and the climax is ingenious, beautifully setting things up for the enjoyably madcap trilogy-closer Army of Darkness: the Medievil Dead.  Raimi has finally brought the trilogy the follow-up fans had been waiting decades for with the fantastically bonkers Ash Vs. the Evil Dead series, but this delirious masterpiece remains the franchise’s zenith.  Groovy ...

3.  JAWS

It may be the oldest film on this list (released in 1975, it’s THREE YEARS OLDER than I am!), but Steven Spielberg’s breakthrough feature has aged incredibly well.  Indeed, it almost single-handedly changed the face of big budget cinema, establishing the idea of tent-pole summer blockbusters and blanket-bombardment advertising campaigns (in particularly it was one of the first to make heavy use of television to drum up excitement and interest), ultimately taking over $400,000,000 on its original release (the equivalent of multi-billion big earners like Avatar today) and paving the way for Star Wars two years later.  Not to mention the film’s famous negative effect on beach-going for years after ... but under all that there’s a magnificent, masterfully-crafted film, still (rightly) considered one of the director’s best.  The plot may be ridiculously simple – New England beach-community Amity Island is terrorised by a man-eating Great White shark – but there’s a stealthily subversive story here, taking old genre conventions and twisting them in new, unexpected directions (which would, ironically, form a template for a great many later horror movies); while the first hour is a slow-burn thriller, the second is more like a light-hearted nautical action adventure with added scares. The French Connection’s Roy Scheider virtually CREATED the everyman-out-of-his-depth hero with his portrayal of Amity police chief Martin Brody, a former New York cop who’s terrified of the water, Richard Dreyfuss is lovable comedic gold as rich kid marine biologist Matt Hooper, Lorraine Gary did a lot with very little as Brody’s wife Ellen, and Robert Shaw effortlessly steals the film as shark hunter Quint, a ferocious, scenery-chewing force of nature in the mould of Moby Dick’s Captain Ahab.  The film is immensely rich in great character moments, from Hooper’s rib-tickling arrival on the island and the dialogue-free moment Brody shares with his younger son Sean, to the undeniable high point of the film, where a humorous comparison of scars (which has itself become a popular homage-magnet in film and TV) leads to Quint chilling account of his wartime experience onboard the U.S.S. Indianapolis (the ship transporting the Hiroshima atomic bomb which was torpedoed in the Pacific, leading to over a thousand stranded sailors being eaten alive by sharks); indeed, this is one of Spielberg’s most well-written films, sitcom writer Carl (The Odd Couple) Gottlieb’s polish of author Peter Benchley’s adaptation of his own original novel still zipping and zinging today, although some of the best dialogue was derived from the actors’ own on-set improvisations (most famously Scheider’s now-legendary “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”).  It’s also one of his most well-directed, with near-hypnotic tricks in editing and bold, adventurous choices in atmosphere-building, often a result of the shoot’s infamous difficulties – the animatronic shark (affectionately named “Bruce” by the director, and “the Great White Turd” by the crew) created by Bob Mattley (the guy who did the giant squid in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) was impressive when it worked, but this was so rarely that the director had to devise several means of creating maximum tension WITHOUT showing the shark, which ultimately ADDS to the effectiveness of those scenes, particularly the “barrel-chasing” in the second half.  None of these tricks, however, work better than the score from Spielberg’s most faithful collaborator, John Williams, based around a deceptively simple four-note melody that evolves into something spectacularly evocative, which has rightly become the film’s most iconic element.  Humorous, intriguing, intense and still thoroughly terrifying when it wants to be, this is, bar-none, the finest man-versus-nature horror EVER MADE, and surely always will be.

2.  NEAR DARK

I’m a fool for vampires (much like I’m a fool for redheads, but that’s a whole other conversation), so bloodsucker horror is one of my very favourite sub-genres.  I’m also a big fan of Kathryn Bigelow – two of her most recent features, The Hurt Locker and Zero Dark Thirty, both pinged VERY LOUDLY on my radar (the former is my favourite war movie of the current decade), while her collaboration with then husband James Cameron, Strange Days (he wrote, she directed), rates high on my list of criminally underrated screen gems.  So what do you think happened when she made a vampire movie?  The results SHOULD have become one of the most celebrated and legendary features in the genre ... except that it came out in October 1987, two months after the admittedly cool and fun but far more glossy and dumb The Lost Boys.  Needless to say in the wake of that, Bigelow’s film got kind of lost in the back chatter, nearly flopping at the box office and all but vanishing into obscurity ... until its subsequent release on video (quite rightly) earned it an impressive cult following.  Myself included, because this movie is RIGHT UP my dark and dangerous alley.  Collaborating with The Hitcher’s screenwriter Eric Red, Bigelow crafted a (largely) deadly serious modern day supernatural “western”, in which cocky farm-boy Caleb Colton (Heroes’ Adrian Pasdar) hits on cute drifter Mae (Jenny Wright, probably best known for her supporting turn in Young Guns 2), only to get WAY more than he bargained for when her kiss leaves him with a crippling hunger and one serious tanning problem.  Pasdar’s all-knowing youthful swagger disintegrates as he tumbles further down the vampiric rabbit hole, while Wright’s fragile beauty compliments her character’s deep, soulful melancholy – the pair make for a compelling, tragic romantic centre anchoring the horrors that unfold as Caleb begins to lose himself to his burgeoning nature; even so, the true dark and twisted soul of the film lies with Mae’s predatory nomad “family” – Lance Henriksen is the definitive “dark father” as nihilistic pack leader Jesse Hooker, while his Aliens co-star Jenette Goldstein is his perfect mate as punk rock femme fatale Diamondback, and Joshua John Miller excels as Homer, the bitter old man trapped in a child’s body ... meanwhile Bill Paxton consistently steals the film as mad dog Severen, chewing the scenery to splinters with gleeful, feral aplomb and stealing all the best lines.  It’s a potent, heady ride, taking itself pretty seriously throughout but deriving a subtle, inky black sense of gallows humour from the situation, and the set-pieces are intense and thrilling (particularly the shootout in a roadside motel at dawn, where shafts of sunlight become as lethal as bullets).  At times it’s also powerful, soulful and bleakly beautiful, Bigelow’s heavily stylised visuals brilliantly augmented by the spiky electronic score from Tangerine Dream. It also subverts the classic vampire conventions with great skill and originality, with nary a cross, coffin or even fang in sight.  Like 30 Days of Night, this is the perfect antidote for anyone suffering from Twilight-overload – the monster can be quite interesting when he’s the hero, but he’s just so much more fun when he’s the bad guy ...

1.  JOHN CARPENTER’S THE THING

While I’m sure many will think I’m mad for preferring this over Carpenter’s other seminal horror classic Halloween, this one’s much more my speed, a perfect exercise in sustained tension, paranoia and white-knuckle terror. Critically mauled and under-performing on its release (it was labelled by many as a sort of “anti-E.T.: the Extraterrestrial”, which came out two weeks earlier ... and interestingly this opened the same day as Blade Runner!), it nonetheless became a massive cult hit now rightly considered one of the true DEFINITIVE horror movies.  Faithfully adapting John Campbell, Jr.’s novella Who Goes There? (certainly more so than Howard Hawks’ admittedly entertaining but ultimately very kitsch The Thing From Another World), it revolves around the all-male crew of U.S. research station 4, Outpost 31, in Antarctica, who come under threat from a body-snatching alien entity that can perfectly imitate its victims after investigating the mysterious destruction of a neighbouring Norwegian facility.  Carpenter regular Kurt Russell (Escape From New York, Big Trouble In Little China) is at his gruff best as helicopter pilot R.J. MacReady, the taciturn blue-collar Joe called upon to play “hero”, Keith David (Pitch Black, Carpenter’s They Live) angrily flexes his acting and physical muscles as hot-tempered researcher Childs, Donald Moffat crumbles as ineffectual station commander Garry, and screen legend Wilford Brimley effortlessly makes the exposition compelling as tightly-wound biologist Blair.  The freezing Antarctic atmosphere perfectly complements the razor-edged suspense, the idea that ANYONE could be the creature lending every scene a palpable sense of implied threat, while the science of the fiction is thankfully largely put on the back-burner in favour of the story and scares; meanwhile there’s a cheeky edge of jet black humour throughout, from the scuttling disembodied head to Garry’s explosive reaction to MacReady’s improvised humanity-test.  Rob (The Howling, Robocop, Fight Club) Bottin’s fantastically nightmarish creature effects are a magnificent achievement, still looking as good today as they did back in 1982, while master composer Ennio Morricone’s subtle, atmospheric score is a triumph of creepy, insidious subliminal effect.  For me, this film is the definition of fear – the idea that the threat could be literally ANYONE, that you could even become that yourself, be taken over completely, body and soul, is absolutely terrifying, and Carpenter executes this potential reality with surgical precision from the intriguing, icy start to the bleak, desolate ending.  Perfect.

[kagehinataboke]

hey! i recently red your zombie au tdbk and it was actually so so so good, even if it was so short!! so with your new prompts, i was like "hm, how about tdbk dystopian au that would be awesome" and tbh, i just watched snk so i was dying to read something dystopian with tdbk. and if i had to put it with anither trope, uhh, idk, maybe war au?? hm. yeah. that´s it. c: 17 + 21 tdbk, kisses!!

aww thank you babe! c: this is probably totally not the direction you were expecting, but i was like ‘soldier todobaku? SOLDIER TODOBAKU’ so this was born. but it’s still got a v dystopian background! uwu

also i made this super long oops

tdbk: [21] Dystopian AU and [17] War AU

***

“Does anyone here know their way around a rifle? Yes, cadet? Demonstrate for us.” A moment of silence passes before Aizawa slams his fist against the table. “Wrong. You’re already dead, soldier. Corpses are feasting on your chest cavity. It shouldn’t take you longer than fifteen seconds to load a rifle. First Sergeant Todoroki will demonstrate for you. Sergeant Yaoyorozu, go find him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is bullshit,” Bakugou mutters to Kirishima, the cadet who just got ripped on by Sergeant Major Aizawa. “Do they expect us to be robots? I came here to fight corpses, not to be a cookie-cutter soldier. As if anyone is perfect enough—“

“Oh my god, look at him,” one of the female recruits suddenly whispers. “I think I’m pregnant now. Holy shit.”

“Holy fucking shit,” Bakugou echoes, adding in the necessary extra expletive.

He’s heard talk of the deadly accurate combat sniper, Todoroki Shouto, before, but he’s never seen him. And holy fucking shit, he looks like a chiseled marble statue. He enters the practice room shirtless with a towel slung over his granite shoulder, wiping sweat from his forehead. His hair looks like a field of red-and-white roses.

“What is it?” Jesus, his voice. “I was in the middle of combat training, Aizawa.”

“Not my problem,” the Sergeant Major dismisses. “None of these space cadets know how to load a rifle properly. It won’t take you long to demonstrate.”

Todoroki’s heterochromatic eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue. Throwing the towel to Sergeant Yaoyorozu, he picks up the discarded rifle on the card table and reloads it in four seconds flat, handing it to Aizawa with a glare. Maybe he’s got some fight in him, after all.

“How did he do that?” Kirishima mutters, anxiety creeping into his voice. “We’re not expected to do it that fast, are we?”

“I think he did it that way on purpose,” Bakugou whispers back, watching Todoroki and Aizawa bicker quietly. “He doesn’t seem to be a team player.”

“Figures,” Kirishima replies. “Haven’t you heard of him? He hates working with everyone, and he has trouble yielding to authority.”

Bakugou smirks. “My kind of guy. I’m gonna talk to him. It wouldn’t hurt to have friends in high places.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Kirishima eyes the glowering Todoroki nervously. “He looks like he could eat you alive. I’d rather take my chances in the dead zones.”

“He’s a person, not a corpse, Kirishima.” Bakugou smacks the timid recruit on the shoulder. “You won’t get anywhere if you don’t try to piss off as many people as you can.”

“That’s not even close to the real saying…”

“Shut up. It looks like he’s gonna storm out.”

As predicted, Todoroki turns his back on a scowling Aizawa. He leaves the rifle on the table and disappears back into the hall, back muscles tensed. Fuck, Bakugou can’t believe he actually just noticed that. But by god, he’s still going to talk to that asshole, even if it kills him.

***

It’s much harder to find Todoroki Shouto alone than Bakugou thought it would be. Between meals and combat training sessions, it’s impossible to get close to him. Of course, Bakugou is at the bottom of the barrel right now. Todoroki teaches a class to Sergeant ranks, and Bakugou obviously isn’t one.

Still, his determination pays off. It’s been raining all day, so all training courses have been canceled. Most of the other cadets are headed back to the barracks to play card games, but Bakugou sneaks away as soon as he sees Todoroki leaving the compound. They’re technically not allowed to do that, but the rules are fucking stupid, anyway. It’s the apocalypse, not a college entrance exam.

Todoroki heads out past the fences bordering the inner compound and into the courtyard, which is only occasionally used for running. Bakugou thinks he might be headed for the dead zone, but he takes a left just before the quarantine zone begins, disappearing into an old guard tower. After shaking the water from his hair, Bakugou follows him up.

He loses sight of him somewhere on the third set of stairs and has to stop to reconsider his actions. He followed Todoroki without really thinking, but it’s creepy to just confront him out of nowhere. He should probably just go back and find a different time to—

A foot lands squarely on Bakugou’s back, sending him crashing into the wall of the stairwell. “What the fuck.”

“Why are you following me?” Todoroki demands, pressing his arm against Bakugou’s throat. His eyes are two distinct storms of thunder clouds and ice water. “I recognize you,” he continues, tightening his grip. “You’re a new recruit. What do you think you’re doing?”

Fuck, this is so hot… But he can’t say that. Bakugou ignores every brain cell in his head and wheezes, “I just wanted to talk to you.” He almost immediately wishes Todoroki would crack his windpipe and kill him. This is not a time for honesty.

“What?” Todoroki is predictably confused. His eyes shift, but his body remains stiff. He really is the perfect soldier. “For what reason do you want to talk to me?”

Bakugou swallows thickly. He has to make something up, and fast. “I wanted to ask you for help,” he decides. “Let go of my shirt.”

“Help?” Todoroki repeats, hesitantly releasing him. He seems a bit surprised to be addressed so informally. “You’re asking a First Sergeant for help with Private-level training?”

“Whatever you are doesn’t matter to me,” Bakugou tells him, straightening out his collar. “You just seem less uptight than the other assholes here. And you’re fucking pretty… good at loading a rifle.” Wow. Nice save, Katsuki. Really.

“Oh, I see.” It’s shocking how fast Todoroki visibly relaxes. “You should’ve just approached me normally. I don’t bite.”

I wish you did. “Oh, yeah?” Bakugou’s coughs, biting his tongue to keep it PG. “So you’ll help me out, then?”

“Of course.”

***

Bakugou really didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Training with Todoroki is long, vigorous, and worryingly full of sexual tension. But maybe that’s just from his perspective. What kind of person does everything shirtless, anyway? It’s not good for his poor heart.

“Tired already?” Todoroki wipes sweat from his forehead. A drop escapes, sliding down his neck to disappear beneath his collar. The one day he wears a shirt…

“In your dreams,” Bakugou grumbles, forcing his mind out of the gutter. He straightens up to flick off his own sweat. “I could go all day.”

They both pause, and Todoroki is the first to look away, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “We should cut it short for today. There’s a big mission for trainees tomorrow, so you need your rest.”

Bakugou sighs as soon as he disappears into the hall. It’s been tense like this lately. They’ve only been practicing together for two weeks, but the mentor/student relationship has already started to crumble. They make eye-contact in the halls and actually acknowledge each other; they sit together during free time; they even share food sometimes. To simplify things, Bakugou is totally fucked.

This may not be the real military, but it’s a tough thing. While combat romances aren’t exactly forbidden, Bakugou guesses the higher-ups wouldn’t take so kindly to a Private sleeping with a First Sergeant. They could always try to be secretive about it, but it’s impossible to hide things when there’s nowhere to be alone. Other than that old guard tower, of course, but doing it there is kind of…

No. Bakugou shouldn’t even be entertaining this stupid thought. He’s supposed to be here training to kill corpses, not having schoolgirl crushes on hot commanding officers. But… He can’t help how he feels. How his chest aches when they’re together. How his skin sings when Todoroki corrects his stance. How he stays up late at night, mind full of beautifully deceiving ‘what-ifs.’

In the end, Bakugou never gave a damn about the rules, anyway. That’s what he tells himself to feel less weak about caving after only a month of hopeless pining. Here he is, dangling his legs over the top of the abandoned guard tower, waiting for Todoroki to show up. In hindsight, he probably should’ve invited him rather than counting on his eventual appearance. But it’s too late now, isn’t it? He’s sitting here, and he’ll stay here until that bastard comes.

Fate must be smiling at him for once, because not five minutes later, Todoroki sticks his head around the stairwell. “Bakugou? This is where you’ve been?”

Bakugou keeps his eyes on the broken cityscape far below. “I was waiting for you.” He waits until Todoroki’s weight settles beside him to continue. “We need to talk.”

Unexpectedly, Todoroki replies, “Yes, we do. But you can go first.”

“Okay?” Bakugou clears his throat nervously. “Well… I’ve been noticing lately— That is, I’ve noticed for a while that—“ He pauses. “Fuck. I don’t know how to say it.”

“Should I go, then? Or maybe we should go at the same time?”

Uh… sure, I guess.”

“Let’s count to three then. One…”

“Two?”

“…Three.”

“I fucking like you.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

There’s silence between them for one, two, three long seconds. Bakugou looks at Todoroki with his eyebrows raised. “Wait… What did you say?”

“Did you really… not hear it?” Todoroki scratches his neck with a cute, tiny cough. Bakugou can’t believe he used to see this guy as a super-soldier.

“I heard it. Are you serious?”

Todoroki’s face pales. “So… you’re not happy about it? Did I read something wrong?”

If Bakugou is honest, he’s surprised this dense bastard ‘read’ anything at all. He was only confessing in the first place because he was sure Todoroki would never realize on his own. But here he is, a kicked puppy, having proclaimed his own love. Is this real?

“You’re reading this all wrong,” Bakugou says, cursing when Todoroki’s face falls even more. “Fuck, no… I mean, I like you, okay? I literally just said I did.”

“You do?” That thing they say about happy people glowing has never been more applicable. Not that Todoroki didn’t glow before, but it’s even brighter now. “My feelings are reciprocated, then?”

“Obviously, fucking idiot.” Bakugou catches himself before adding even more curse words. “I had no idea you liked me back.”

“I did my best to hide it. I didn’t want to get you in trouble, or for people to think you were trying to get special treatment.” Todoroki shifts closer, bumping their knees together. “In the end, I couldn’t stop how I was feeling. How I still feel. I decided it was best to tell you.”

They’ve been suffering through the same thing, then. Bakugou almost can’t believe it. And, of course, there’s still plenty to worry about. Their feelings are mutual, but they’ll have to hide a relationship from an entire military compound. It won’t be easy.

Todoroki’s fingers intertwine with his, throwing Bakugou’s doubts right off the side of the guard tower. He’s smiling, this dim-witted asshole. He isn’t worried at all, is he? “I suppose I should formally ask you, then…”

Bakugou tells his heart to shut the fuck up before replying, “Ask me what?”

“Will you become mine?”

“Wh—“ Bakugou chokes on a laugh, but his face is steaming red. “What’s with that? Where’d you even learn that wording?”

“On an old TV drama.” Todoroki moves his hand to the other side of Bakugou’s hip, so their foreheads are nearly touching. “But I’m serious. The question remains.”

The wind whistles through the open tower, accompanied by the creak of chain-link fence. Bakugou can hear nothing but the wailing sound and the rapid-fire pounding of his heart. The answer is obvious. It’s been obvious from the start. Leaning forward, Bakugou kisses him, etching his ‘yes’ into Todoroki’s tastebuds.

The world is fucked, that’s for sure—but in the here and now, life seems pretty damn good.

[imagines-dreams]

Beauty and the Spirit

Rating: PG

Warnings: mentions of some sort of war and imprisonment

Summary: Beauty and the Beast AU.  You, Katara, and Sokka, were travelling around the world with the avatar, hiding him from dangerous Fire Nation soldiers and finding ways to teach Aang how to master the four elements. However, when Aang disappears, and spring turns into winter, your journey comes to a stop at the ruins of a palace.

Word Count: 2426

Notes: I don’t know if I’ll continue this. I’ve written up a partial draft for the second chapter, but this story’s updates will depend on how much time college gives me to write. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please tell me!

It was winter in this part of the woods. How… It was a few weeks into spring. Is this how he got lost? You gulped and urged your horse onward. He couldn’t be too far.

“Maybe he’s just lost in the snow? You know how much of a child he is. I propose we go back-”

“Sokka!” Katara pulled on her hood. “Aang is our friend, and we know he wouldn’t spend so much time tarrying.” She reached out her hand and examined the gentle snowfall. “This winter is widespread. I don’t think it could be bending.”

You stared ahead. Katara was right. There seemed to be no out. “Maybe Aang conjured this up?”

“He’s twelve,” Sokka deadpanned. “Look, he might be the only avatar, but he hasn’t even mastered air yet.”

Katara rubbed the snow between her fingers. “It’s possible that he went into the avatar state.” Her eyes widened. “(Y/n), if he went into the avatar state…”

“Something scared him enough to do it,” you finished. You licked your lips and looked back on your friends.

Sokka gulped, and his hand went to his sword.

The three of you were alone, and the three of you needed to find Aang before something else happened.

You wanted to do more. More than just looking for one of your best friends. You felt absolutely useless riding a horse and searching the storm for someone you had no clues to where he would be. You were doing nothing while Katara was bending snow out of everyone’s eyes and Sokka was standing guard.

What were you in a fight with, Fire Nation guards or ill-intentioned spirits?

You squinted in the harsh cold. Hopefully, it was spirits. You didn’t have any combat abilities, but at least your home was among the books and scrolls of the spirits. You learned quite a bit about talking to the tricky bastards.

Then, just as you reached the peak of the hill, something like obsidian rose from the next valley. You smiled. “Guys.”

Katara’s eyes lit up. “He must be there!” Just as she raised her reins, Sokka rode his horse in front of her. “Are you crazy?!”

“Sokka!” you scolded.

He groaned. “That place is obviously Fire Nation. We can’t just storm the place. We’d need an army.”

You stared at the place. “Actually, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean by that?”

You smiled at pointed at the black structure. “They’re ruins.” You reviewed the maps you committed to memory as you took out the modern map from your backpack. You quickly scanned it and pointed at where you are. “Nothing. The most recent map I can remember having a castle in this location” --you tilted your head back and forth-- “Maybe a decade ago.”

“A decade ago?” She smiled. “That means it’s long abandoned by Fire Nation.”

“But someone is still there,” Sokka explained.

You shrugged. “We don’t know who, though. It’s still possible that someone Fire Nation resides there.”

“And they won’t like Water Tribe visitors,” Katara mumbled.

You smiled. “It’s my turn then!”

“What?” Sokka squeaked. “You had the last raid.”

You laughed and started removing everything with the Water Tribe insignia from your horse. “You can lead the raid when I come back from searching the castle.”

Sokka lit up like the Northern lights and pumped his fist in celebration.

Katara shook her head. “Shouldn’t our main focus be Aang’s safety?”

“Nah.” Her brother stared at the ruins below. “He’s the avatar. He’ll be fine.”

“You just said that he was twelve, Sokka,” you reminded him as you handed him your map.

“Who has been training since he could walk in combat based on airbending and has learned a lot from the Air Nomads.” He wrote on some empty scrolls and used your map as a reference. “Just, no dying, yeah, (Y/n)?”

You scoffed. “I’m amazing at looking like a helpless girl, and I got some tricks up my sleeve.” You reviewed was with you. Your horse, your bag, your books, your simple inventions, and a bit of food and water. Enough to last you two nights.

That was all the time you needed.

You smiled at your friends. “Wish me luck.”

“Come back safe!”

“Bring back food, too!”

You rode towards the ruins, slumped against your horse. When you reached the gates, or what once was gates, you looked back to where your friends would be. You couldn’t see them, and you felt pride in how many times the four of you have done this.

Logically, it would be a simple mission for you. See what’s inside, find Aang, escape if easy enough or go back and come up with a different plan.

Still… whatever spirit or Fire Nation guard that caused the storm… it was unsettling.

Once inside the courtyard, you yelled in a hoarse voice, “Hello? Is anyone there?” You coughed and let your horse lead you around. You dismounted your horse and smiled at him. The stables you happened upon wasn’t in complete disarray. You left him there and grabbed your bag before going to the two huge doors and asking again, “Is anyone here?”

You pressed both palms against the door and pushed it open. “I’m sorry, but I’m lost.”

The place was dark and damp. A thin layer of snow covered the floor. Columns had crumbled to dust and rubble by your feet. Rust had already covered and clung to the metal decor. There were a few things that were still intact. A few utensils on the table seemed untouched by time. You smiled and walked towards the table. A beautiful teapot was set at the center, still ready to be poured. The teacup next to it was still pristine as well.

…

In fact, the teacup held tea. Hot tea. Steaming hot tea. How… It was below freezing.

You blinked a few times before picked up the cup and gasping when heat engulfed your hands. “What?” You lifted the teacup above your head. “What sort of invention or magic…”

“I’m pretty sure it’s magic, little one.”

You set the cup back on the table and whipped around. “Who’s there?” You sucked in your breath and readied yourself for any sort of fight. You searched for any sort of movement. But the only thing moving was the falling snow. You took deep breaths. You heard that some people went crazy on missions, but you never thought you would be like that.

“Relax.” The voice laughed.

Male, old, and… jolly?

You whipped around. Why couldn’t you see them? Where were they?

“You are looking for that boy, with blue tattoos?”

You squinted against the darkness. “What have you done with him?”

“Don’t worry. Go up and to the left. Top of the tower.”

You blinked a few times. “What kind of trick is this? Are you a spirit? Why would I take your advice?” You turned and turned, and yet you still couldn’t find any movement. If the spirit could communicate, it must be visible.

“Because I want to free him from my nephew’s mistake.”

Nephew? That’s odd. Sure spirits are like humans in a way. They have families. But… it was still weird.

“So you’re in charge of this place?” you asked the void.

The voice laughed. “If I was, I would’ve just sent your avatar off with a cup of hot tea.” It laughed again. “Now, go on. I’m sure your friend is waiting.”

Well, it technically was a clue. It was just a very suspicious clue. You patted the dagger Sokka gave to you and dug through your bag. You had a slingshot, so you put that on your belt, too. When in doubt, you had that one heavy book you could chuck at a Fire Nation soldier. Or spirit. Hopefully, it worked on spirits, too.

You carefully stepped around the obsidian castle. Everything was broken and dull and dark. There were paintings that were ripped to shreds and iron bars that had rusted away. You couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a castle of a prison.

Then, you saw him.

“Aang!” You gasped and rushed towards him.

The boy beamed. “(Y/n)!” He rushed to the bars and squealed with excitement. “I’m so happy to see you! There are so many cool things in this place! Did you see the-”

“I know, but we have to get you out of here, first.”

Aang blinked twice. “Well, uh, you see, (Y/n), I’m kinda stuck here.”

You nodded. “I know. That’s why we’re going to get you out.”

“Wait!”

“Aang, please.”

“No, I committed a crime, (Y/n). I gotta do my time and all.” He flashed a brilliant smile, and you were so confused. You opened your mouth, but you just shook your head. “I’m sure you can make up for it when you save the world. Now...” You stepped back and examined the prison. The bars were a tad rusted. Not enough for you to get it loose with your bare hands. The lock system was simple, though…

You dug through your bag. “I think I can pick the lock if I can just find it.”

Aang took a step back from the bars. “Uh, (Y/n), I think you should go.”

“I’m not leaving you, Aang,” you stated. “Now, just let me-”

Fear prickled the back of your neck and ran down your spine. It was suddenly too dark, and you knew you were being watched. You slowly turned around.

You gasped and backed up so your back slammed against the prison bars. You pulled out your dagger. “Who are you?” you screamed.

The shadowed figure loomed before the two of you, and you knew it must’ve been a spirit. A Fire Nation guard could not strike that much fear into you. Well, you knew what the threat was. You just needed to get the avatar to safety. Somehow.

The spirit’s voice was tired when he spoke like he had been in this situation too many times before. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that your friend stole from me. He must pay the price for what he has done.”

“Yep!” Aang agreed. “I’ll be out of here in no time, (Y/n). Promise!”

You stared at your optimistic friend. Aang was still a child, and spirits it showed.

You sighed. “What exactly did Aang do?”

“He stole from my garden! For that, he shall rot in that cell for years.”

“Wait, years!?” Aang grasped the bars. “I can’t be in here for years. I’m the-”

“Most valuable friend to us,” you finished for him. Problem with training and taking care of the child avatar was that he didn’t quite understand who should and who shouldn’t know who he truly was. You glared at Aang before facing the shadow again. “I’m sure we can replace whatever my friend stole. What was it? I can try replacing-”

“You can’t just replace anything in the garden my mother cared for!” He grunted. “To think so is stupid and careless.”

You scoffed. “Well, I’m not going to let my friend rot in a cell for any duration of time.” You turned around and whipped out your lock picks. Just as your fingers grazed the lock, the metal became scorching hot. You yelped and dug your fingers into the snow nearby.

“(Y/n)!” Aang cried out.

“I’m fine,” you told him.

Some sort of fire spirit? A dragon? That was not good at all.

And Aang. Aang was terrified. His grey eyes widened, and his lip began to tremble.

You growled and turned back to the spirit. You couldn’t leave Aang there alone with a spirit and horrified at the possibilities of what could happen to him. No, you had to do something quick and fast. You didn’t have Katara’s waterbending or Sokka’s plans, but you had… yourself. Maybe a few knick-knacks and books maybe in your bag, which probably couldn’t best a fire spirit. So, you just had yourself.

You blinked a few times. “You want someone to pay for my friend’s crime, right?” You took a deep breath and lifted your head. “Well, why can’t I pay for it?”

“What?”

“No, (Y/n)-”

“Aang, I’ll be fine.” You smiled at him. “You need to go back out there,” you explained. “So, spirit, what do you think?”

The shadow was silent for a few moments, contemplating the twist of events.

You took deep breaths, preparing yourself for the worst. Either he didn’t accept your deal, and you had to comfort Aang before leaving and reconvening with Sokka and Katara to find a plan to break him free from the spirit’s clutches. Or you would be stuck in that castle. You would be rotting in the cell, waiting for your friends who may or may not be able to get past this spirit.

Your friends were talents, and yes, you four had gotten through many sticky situations through your journey, but a spirit that was this spiteful and powerful? You weren’t so sure.

“Fine.”

You blinked. “Fine?”

“You can take his place.”

The door to Aang’s prison opened, and the airbender hugged you immediately. “No, (Y/n), you can’t stay here forever. I won’t let you!”

You laughed. You hugged Aang back and squeezed him a little before kissing the top of his head. “Hey, it’s not forever, yeah?” You knelt down and put your hands on his shoulders. “Aang, Katara, and Sokka are on the top of the hill where the moon rises. Make sure to find them, ok?”

Aang sniffed. “But-”

“I’ll be fine. I promise, ok?” You rubbed his cold cheeks and kissed his forehead. You pulled his hood tighter over his head, covering his airbending tattoos. You smiled a little. “GO find our friends.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Aang, go. I’ll be fine.”

Aang stared at the spirit. Then, he glanced at you.

“Go.”

Aang inhaled shakily. He closed his eyes, and you kissed his forehead again. Just as your lips left his hood, Aang sprinted towards the exit. Your eyes didn’t leave him until he was out of sight. He’d find Katara and Sokka. They’d figure out a way to help you. You just… You had to trust them.

You gulped. The shadows moved again, and your bag was swept into the darkness.

They would come get you. They would come get you, and you could find your bag and escape. Soon.

And so, you stepped into the cell. The shadows moved around you, and suddenly the door to your cell was closed.

I hope you guys liked it. Ik ik, its late. I’m sorry. I told everyone I wanted to do a fairytale AU with someone, but unfortunately, life doesn’t allow me much time for writing. Feel free to suggest any ideas you have for this story, and if you like what I write and have a coffee to spare, please consider donating to my Kofi page, which is linked on my blog page. Thank you so much for reading!

Edit: Part 2 has been up for a while but I forgot to link it! So here it is!

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Imot, the Symbol of Doom

True Neutral Psychopomp Usher of Inevitability, Mathematics, and Portents

Domains: Luck, Repose, Rune, Weather Subdomains*: Curse, Psychopomp, Legislation, Storms

Concordance of Rivals, pg. 9

Obedience: Spend an hour in a dark space barely large enough for you to fit and cast your thoughts out from your body. Benefit: Gain a +4 insight bonus on Perception checks to spot portents and traps; this expanded insight also allows you to disable magic traps as if you had the Rogue’s Trapfinding ability.

(*IMPORTANT NOTE: The Subdomains are my best guess; Subdomains are not listed in Concordance of Rivals. Anywhere!)

Pity you ended up in a desert for this adventure, eh? No, but finding a space ‘barely large enough for you to fit’ is likely going to be difficult if you’re not an urban environment. Most DMs will just wave their hand and say that there’s an outcropping of rocks or a hollowed out tree here or there that will allow you to complete your Obedience, but if you’re in hostile territory it may become more and more difficult to find a safe space for you to squeeze down into. I suppose you could technically carry or create your own by toting around a sack just barely you-sized, but then comes the awkwardness of getting into and out of the thing each day. Do you ask for help? Or do you trust that you’ll eventually escape? Many Obediences have an unspoken ‘eject button’ that lets you leap from the ritual and defend yourself if necessary and begin again later, but Imot’s Obedience leaves you terribly, terribly vulnerable.

Also, “cast your thoughts from your body” is a strange sentence to me. Is that just a fancy way of saying ‘meditate?’ Do you legitimately have to try and astral project? Is it ‘cast them out’ in a ‘wander elsewhere with your mind’ way, or an ‘empty your mind’ way? Hrm.

Well, anyway, that’s a REAL nice benefit, a whole head and shoulders above the usual fare of ‘on par with a feat.’ Perception checks are the most-rolled checks in the game, and keeping an eye out for traps is one of its most important functions. As for what ‘spotting portents’ entails, it’s annoying to have to detail this out, but portents are basically omens or warnings. The tide suddenly receding heralds a tidal wave, the skies above darkening signaling a terrible storm, a depressed wall plate signals a trap is set, claw marks in the door suggests its occupant is terrible and sharp... Things like that. It’s basically an excuse to have you spot tiny details that foretell incoming disasters, with is a delightful ability to have if the DM can play around with it. Why yes, you notice that merchants hands are backwards right away...

Oh, also, disabling magic traps is nice... But uh, best to leave that to the experts, unless you are the expert, since this ability doesn’t actually make you any better at dispelling or disarming them.

Boons are gained slowly, gained at levels 12, 16, and 20. Servants of the Monitors, though, can enter the Proctor Prestige Class as early as level 8. If entered as early as possible, you can earn your Boons at levels 10, 14, and 16. You MUST take the Monitor Obedience feat, NOT Deific Obedience. Monitors grant only a single set of Boons. 

Boon 1: The Coming Storm. Gain Doom 3/day, Scare 2/day, or Rain of Frogs 1/day.

Doom, despite having such an ominous name, is only level 1 and causes the target to become shaken. Powerful at low levels, but it falls off quickly and its nature as an emotion/mind-affecting effect make a painful number of monsters immune to it.

Scare is, perhaps, even more painfully outclassed than Doom, because it only affects creatures who have less than 6 HD. I find it amusing that Doom and Cause Fear are the same level, but Doom is infinitely better. Scare is a step up from Cause Fear, but not a HUGE step. It’s useful for cowing a legion of smaller foes into submission, but once you start hitting the mid/upper levels, you won’t really find many creatures worth using this power on that you couldn’t just deal with using a different spell.

And thus, we get to Rain of Frogs, one of the best spells in the entire game if only because causing a flood of amphibians to fall upon your foes is one of the best possible uses for magic in existence. Also, I linked to the spell’s page because I enjoyed how much and how little patience the authors of the website had and just conglomerated all the information you need to use the spell in one simple page. Nice of them! Anyway, with a range of Close comes the power to drop your poisonous frog storm directly into an enemy’s square, which is endlessly useful when dealing with casters or fleeing foes. I’d pick Rain of Frogs every single time, as the other two don’t even come close to comparing to its power or utility.

Followers of Imot always know that the Coming Storm is composed entirely of frogs.

Boon 2: Insight Into Disaster. You add your Wisdom modifier to Initiative checks and Reflex saves.

Alright YEAH! Initiative checks GO!!! I really hope you didn’t dump Wisdom, because people who didn’t get rewarded HARD. Moving first is perhaps the most important thing you can do in combat, letting you strike first, buff first, retreat first, etc etc etc. And you not only get that, but the added benefit of adding Wis to your Reflex saves as well. Casters typically have poor Reflex saves AND poor-to-middling Dexterity, and this solves both of those issues in one fell swoop.

Also, this is an untyped bonus, allowing it to stack with pretty much every other buff in the game. ...

... Alright, I think that covers it. Flat stat boosts are always boring to discuss, no matter HOW excited I am to see that you can potentially double your Initiative and Ref.

Boon 3: Call Down the Wrath. 1/day you can cast Extended Control Weather.

That’s altered weather patterns for 4d12x2 hours, by the by. Realistically, about 1 to 2 days of weather control (the average roll is 26, which doubles to 52), but if you’re especially lucky you can muck with up to four days of weather. Even a low roll sees 8 hours of climate change, a full adventuring day! With an area of 2 miles centered on you and the potential to have the spell last 2, 3, or 4 days, you can have the effect overlap itself and just have an eternal 2-mile bubble of whatever you want it to be. Become the very avatar of tumultuous climates as you stroll from place to place with dark clouds both heralding your arrival and shadowing your departure, or go in the opposite route and just give yourself a perpetual spring day!

It takes 10 minutes to cast this spell and 10 minutes to alter the weather in a meaningful way, so if you want to be DRAMATIC with it you need to time it exactly. Queue up a thunderstorm BEFORE strolling into the enemy evil leader’s base and demanding their cooperation and snapping your fingers to cause it should they fail to comply... Or, y’know, to celebrate the occasion should they actually comply. It’s a warning! A display!

It’s really easy to abuse this spell thanks to even the lowest possible roll still meaning you have 8 hours to muck about with an enormous patch of weather. Need to sneak somewhere? Create thick fog, torrential rain, or snowstorms to hide your movement. Need to clear out an enemy camp? Terrible heat or cold could make them move. Need to halt an enemy army? Bring down catastrophic hail or a tornado to rip through them. You can’t directly control where the tornado will travel or how the hail will fall, so make sure you’re protected from your own actions! And know that your allies and friends aren’t spared from you Calling Down the Wrath, but luckily being a Proctor demands skill in Abjuration anyway, so assure everyone possesses shields and wards!

Or, you know, march your lonesome self into enemy territory. That’s an option, too!

I really, really love this reward because Control Weather is one of my lower-key favorite spells. It’s one of the few that actually makes you feel like a God, which everyone knows is what magic is all about! Too bad Imot is one of the Ushers that leans more towards the Evil side of the Neutral spectrum.

Side note: Since using a spell-like ability isn’t technically ‘casting’ a spell, Druids don’t get the bonus of doubling the already-doubled duration or the 3-mile radius.

You can read more about it here.

[fortheheavenssake]

💜💜 PG MM Anon(II) 💜💜 Interpretation Collection - 3

13. May 12

MM ANON …… Thrive???………… definitely Malibu ………wear a mask ………… confusing but amusing ……… a question of credibility ……… 🎼 we can be heroes ……🎼…” what ever happened to wrinkle cream?”……… love and hugs to all our anon friends ……… 🎼 now there are three steps to heaven 🎼………… Brave New World ……… a quiet Queen.

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #13

SORRY IT IS A DAY LATE AGAIN

0935 HRS CST

FOR ENTERTAINMENT ONLY

Thrive???

IN WHAT I BELIEVE, IS HIS THIRD VIDEO APPEARANCE RECENTLY, HARRY CONGRATULATED THE U.K.’S YOUNG PEOPLE FOR NOT JUST SURVIVING BUT THRIVING DURING THE PANDEMIC. HE GAVE SOME VERY ENCOURAGING WORDS. I FEEL THIS IS THE PATH THEY HAVE CHOSEN TO REINTRODUCE OUR HARRY. SLOWLY REINVOLVING HIM, NOTHING LIVE OR IN PUBLIC, BUT VIDEO AND PERTINENT TOPICS. I THIS IS VERY WISE AND GIVES ME EXTREME HOPE!!!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜 VERY MUCH PRESSING, LIKE THE VE DAY VIDEO.

WHAT A JOKE, IN THE VIDEO DONE IN SOUTH AFRICA, MADAM STOLE THE FAMOUS LINE, ONE DOES NOT WANT TO MERELY SURVIVE BUT TO THRIVE, WHICH BY THE WAY HAS BEEN USED BY AN AMERICAN VITAMIN TV AD IN RECENT MONTHS, EVERY TIME IT COMES ON I BURST INTO LAUGHTER…I GUESS IT MAKES ME THRIVE WITHOUT TAKING IT🤣🤣🤣😂😂. SO MADAM IS PR ING HER WAY THROUGH A FAKE LIFE WITH HARRY AND ARCHIFICIAL, WHILE BEING HOSPITALIZED OR PERHAPS DISCHARGED NOW AND BACK TO MIO OR SOMEONE ELSE COUCH. SO PATHETIC, SHE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL, BUT BY ANYONES IDEAS SHE IS JUST BARELY SURVIVING, IN EVERY SINGLE WAY. SO VERY SAD.

definitely Malibu ………

MALBU DUCHESS DINO BARELY? IS THAT THE GOAL? PR ING A BEACH HOUSE AND BEACH VIEW, MANSIONS AND A PLETHORA OF A LIST BESTIES AND OFFERS ROLLING IN??? HMMMM. NOT BUYING IT, NOT AT ALL NO MATTER WHAT PR IS TOSSED OUT AT US.

wear a mask ………… confusing but amusing ………a question of credibility

GUIDELINES GIVEN. BY THE U.K. GOVERNMENT ARE CONTINUING TO BE CONFUSING, IN FACT AT TIME THE PM HIMSELF APPEARED BEFUDDLED. TO BE HONEST, I AM ALSO CONFUSED ABOUT WHERE, WHEN TO WEAR A MASK, DOES IT PREVENT, PROTECT, SLOW DOWN TRANSMISSION. GOOD SOLID HANDWASHING, AVOIDING TOUCHING YOUR FACE AND HAND SANITIZER THOSE ARE MOST IMPORTANT.

IF ONE, IN A ROLE OF ANY OFFICIAL CAPACITY, BE IT PM, HIS CABINET, HEALTH OFFICERS ETC ETC ARE NOT CLEAR, CONCISE, USE LANGUAGE EVERYONE CAN UNDERSTAND AND MAKE SENSE OF, THEIR CREDIBILITY IS CALLED INTO QUESTION OR CAN BE. I SAW THE DM ARTICLE THE OTHER DAY OF PM JOHNSON WALKING, UNMASKED, IN THE PARK WITH A TOSS AWAY COSTA COFFEE CUP, HE WAS CONFRONTED BY WHAT LOOKED LIKE AN ORDINARY CITIZEN, WHO I CANNOT RECALL WHO HE WAS BUT HE WAS SOME BIG CORPORATE GUY, ABOUT THE CONFUSION IN GOVERNMENT MESSAGING REGARDING THE STEPS OF UNLOCKINGDOWN. NEW WORD YEP I MADE IT!

🎼 we can be heroes ……🎼

MM ANON RETURNS TO ONE OF HER FAVES, DAVID BOWIE. THIS SONG CALLED HEROES IS AN OLD ONE BUT GREAT. THIS SPEAKS TO HOW EVERYDAY ORDINARY PEOPLE CAN BE AND ARE HEROES. THINGS WE DO, SEEN AND UNSEEN ARE HEROIC. THIS HAS EXPLODED INTO EVIDENCE PUBLICLY DURING THIS WHOLE PANDEMIC. UNLIMITED AMOUNT OF HEROES DISPLAYED IN EVERY CORNER OF LIFE AND VIRTUALLY EVERY CORNER OF THE WORLD. AMAZING.

…” what ever happened to wrinkle cream?”………

WELL I STILL AM HERE🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂FOR THOSE HERE LONG ENOUGH TO REMEMBER MY SKIN EXPERTISE AND LOVE OF SERUMS AND POTIONS, DISPENSER OF ADVICE.

I THINK THIS TEFERS TO MADAM AND THE DRASTIC ALTERATIONS IN HER FACE WE HAVE SEEN…LOTS AND LOTS OF APPEARING TO BE SURGICAL AND MEDICAL INTERVENTIONS, CAMERA FILTERS FOR SURE. NO, NO ORDINARY SERUMS AND CREAMS COULD TACKLE THE THINGS SHE WANTED DONE. MANY ACROSS THE GLOBE SEEK SURGERY AND MEDICAL INTERVENTION FOR THE SAME REASON. ITS A MULTIBILLION DOLLAR THRIVING BUSINESS AND GROWING. HEY, I LOVE MY SERUMS ETC BUT EVERY ALMOST WRINKLE I HAVE, I HAVE EARNED!!! AGING IS A GIFT, JUST LOOK AROUND SEE YOUNG PEOPLE WITH CANCER OR KILLED IN ACCIDENTS. WITH AGE COMES WISDOM.😊(HOPEFULLY 🤣🤣🤣😂)

love and hugs to all our anon friends ………

THIS IS SO SWEET OF YOU MM ANON, THERE ARE MANY WHO HAVE HAD THEIR ONLINE WORLD SHATTERED RECENTLY. THERE ARE MANY HERE WHO HAVE BEEN HERE FOR HARRY AND OUR BELOVED ROYALS FOR A VERY LONG TIME, TRUTH TELLING, EXPOSING LIES AND ON AND ON. VERY LOYAL INDIVIDUALS INDEED.

🎼 now there are three steps to heaven 🎼…………

OK I HAD TO LOOK THIS UP. OLD SONG BY SHOWADDYWADDY. ITS ABOUT HEAVEN MEANING INTIMACY AND A RELATIONSHIP . FIRST STEP GET A GIRL, SECOND FALL IN LOVE THEN BOOM COMMIT THREE STEPS THEN YOU ARE IN HEAVEN.

ALAS LIFE IS NOT SO SIMPLE , AND WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING ACTUAL HEAVEN HERE. THIS HAS NOT, UNFORTUNATELY FOR OUR HARRY AND MANY OF US, BEEN SO EASY. I PRAY HE IS STILL WITH HIS ENGLISH ROSE AND EVENTUALLY THEY CAN OFFICIALLY BE TOGETHER.

Brave New World ………

STUDIED THIS BOOK IN HIGH SCHOOL, WEIRD CONTROLLED DYSTOPIAN WORLD, WHERE EVERY MOVE WAS PREARRANGED CONTROLLED BY THE GOVERNMENT, VERY MUCH LIKE WHAT WE HAVE BEEN AND ARE LIVING THROUGH,YET COMPLETELY DIFFERENT IN THAT THIS IS FOR LIFE AND DEATH SAKE. CONSPIRACY THEORIES ABOUND, I WILL NOT GO FURTHER. IT WILL BE INTERESTING TO SEE HOW THE UNLOCKDOWN WORKS. I PRAY 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 THAT WE DONT HAVE MASSIVE SPIKES BUT I DO WORRY ABOUT ALL THE CHILDREN THAT GLOBALLY HAVE BEEN GETTING SO SICK.

a quiet Queen.

HMTQ HAS BEEEN ISOLATING AT WINDSOR CASTLE WITH HRH THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH. GIVEN THE AGGRESSIVE NATURE OF THIS VIRUS, ITS EFFECTS ON THE ELDERLY, AND NO TREATMENT OR VACCINE, SHE MAY NEED TO REMAIN THERE INDEFINITELY, UNTIL AN EFFECTIVE VACCINE IS SAFE AND AVAILABLE. I HAVE BEEN READING ABOUT THAT.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————

14. May 13

MM ANON …… for saving my mother ……… father ……… grandmother …… grandfather …son ……… sister……… brother……… daughter ………… thank you for saving my life nurse / doctor /……… how can I EVER thank you all ……… from the bottom of my ❣ ……… I can never find the words ……… my gratitude is unending ……… god bless you all. ……… GOD BLESS YOU ALL!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

* Entertainment only

Lovely tribute …in riddle form! Thank you! God Bless you!🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

MAY 13/2020

0055 HRS CST

RIDDLE #14

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

I NURSED FOR WELL OVER 20 YEARS IN VARIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES. I CAN SAY IT TOOK YOUR BODY, HEART AND SOUL, ITS A CALLING, AN ART, I LIVED MY FAITH IN SERVING CHRIST IN THIS I MANNER. I HAVE HAD THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING WITH INDIVIDUALS IN THE WORST MOMENTS OF THEIR LIVES TO HEALING. BUT ALSO THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING WITH PEOPLE WHEN THEY DIED. I MISSED MANY HOLIDAYS, FAMILY TIME, DOUBLE SHIFT AFTER DOUBLE SHIFT. THE MOST REWARDING CAREER EVER. I WOULD NOT CHANGE A THING. DEALING WITH FAMILIES TOO WAS AT TIME EXTREMELY DIFFICULT AND ALSO EXTREMELY REWARDING. IT IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART BUT IF YOU ARE CALLED TO SERVE, JUMP AT THE CHANCE, YOU WILL NEVER REGRET IT. I SALUTE ALL MY FELLOW NURSES HERE ON TUMBLR, THOSE WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE, THOSE SERVING NOW AND THOSE YET TO COME.🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💐💐💐💐

GOD BLESS YOU MM ANON

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

15. May 13

MM ANON ……… “come on Kate, off to Queens”……… Charlotte goes first……… “George ‘ get your bicycle “……… 🎼bye bye miss American spy🎼……… 🎼listen , do you want to know a secret 🎼……… stay alert 🤣🤣🤣……… trains, planes and automobiles……… driving miss day-see? ……… FOUR!!!! …………… an art gallery,when??……… single prayers please.

Thank you MM Anon.😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE#15

1650 HRS

KIDS I HAVE BEEN OUT OF THE LOOP A BUT NOW SOME FAMILY ILLNESS PREOCCUPYING ME SO, I WILL ALREADY SAY, THIS RIDDLE LOOKS EASY BUT ONLY IF YOU ARE IN THE LOOP!

💜💜💜💜💜I TRIED MY BEST💜💜💜💜💜

“come on Kate, off to Queens”……… Charlotte goes first……… “George ‘ get your bicycle “………

I WONDER IF THIS MIGHT JUST BE, ALTHOUGH THE KATE/CATHERINE THING, BUT I WILL CONTINUE….WITH MORE PUBLIC EXERCISE AVAILABLE NOW OR RATHER OUTDOORS TIME, I WONDER IF THE FAMILY IS HEADING TO QUEENS PARK. CHARLOTTE GOES FIRST ON HER BIKE AND GEORGE BRINGS UP THE REAR AS HE IS OLDER. HOW FANTASTIC WOULD THIS BE? THIS IS PURE SPECULATION ON MY PART OR WISH FOR THEM PERHAPS.

🎼bye bye miss American spy🎼………

OLD SONG BYE BYE MISS AMERICAN PIE, NEIL YOUNG CANADIAN😁😁😁😁🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦. YES APPARENTLY DEAR MADAM HAS BEEN KEEPING A SECRET JOURNAL OF EVERYTHING SHE WITNESSED IN THE ROYAL FAMILY. I THINK THAT IS DISGUSTING. SEEMINGLY IT IS BYE BYE SO…..EMBARGO TIME.??? EITHER WAY, IT WILL NOT HAPPEN. ARE THERE NO DEPTHS SHE WILL NOT SINK TOO?? THE ANSWER IS NO BECAUSE OF SULPHUROUS EVIL SHE SERVES. 👁 👁 👁 👁 👁 HAVE DONE THEIR WORK, EVIDENCE IS IN, AND IT IS NOT LOOKING GOOD FOR THE YANKEE MATA HARI🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHO MATA HARI IS, GO STUDY HISTORY FASCINATING. ARE CHARGES GOING TO INCLUDE NATIONAL SECURITY ISSUES?? I THINK MORE THAN EVER THE STAR CHAMBER AND ITS JUSTICES HAVE BEEN KNEE DEEP IN THIS INFORMATION AND EVIDENCE!!

🎼listen , do you want to know a secret 🎼………

DIDN’T HAVE TO LOOK THIS UP EITHER, THIS IS FROM FROZEN, AS ANY PARENT WILL TELL YOU🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. I AM AUNTIE SO I KNOW IT TOO. THIS APPLIES AGAINS TO THAT BLOODY SECRET JOURNAL OF LIES PROBABLY MIXED WITH VERY PRIVATE INFORMATION DURING HER TIME WITH OUR BELOVED ROYAL FAMILY. EMBARGO!!

ALSO, ANNOUNCED YESTERDAY, THAT HMTQ, THE CAMBRIDGES AND HRH PRINCE CHARLES ARE FREEZING ALL RECRUITMENTS AS THEY CONTINUE TO ISOLATE WITH REDUCED HOUSEHOLD STAFF AT THEIR RESPECTIVE ROYAL.

THE SONG IS FROM THE MOVIE FROZEN……SO FREEZE FROZEN GET THE RIFF??

stay alert 🤣🤣🤣………

AGAIN DIRECTIONS GIVEN FOR THE PUBLIC FOR YEARS NOW STAY ALERT TO ANYTHING UNUSUAL AND REPORT IT IE RELATED TO TERRORIST ATTACKS. BUT THIS HAS LAUGHTER SO IT IS NOT THAT. STAY ALERT TO HOW CLOSE YOU GET TO OTHERS ON A CROWDED BUS WITH TWO METRE DISTANCE BETWEEN EACH PERSON NOT VERY LIKELY IS IT. IT SEEMS ABSURD, CANNOT GO TO ANOTHER HOME BUT CAN GO TO WORK ON CROWDED PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. ITS THE OXYMORON OF ALL TIME🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

trains, planes and automobiles………

THIS IS A GREAT AGAIN CANADIAN 🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦 FILM STARRING THE GREAT JOHN CANDY🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦RIP. TRYING DESPERATELY TO GET SOMEWHERE USING EVERY AVAILABLE MEANS. WITH THE TUBE OVERCROWDED AND INFECTED, I WONDER IF THIS IS REFERRING TO HOW PEOPLE WHO ARE WORKING IR RETURNING TO WORKING ARE GETTING THERE AND BACK AGAIN.

driving miss day-see? ………

ANOTHER THING NO GOOGLING REQUIRED, RIFF ON THE FANTASTIC PLAY WITH ANGELA LANSBURY, I SAW IT SHE WAS BRILLIANT AND ALSO A FILM ABOUT AN AGING WOMAN IN THE 1950’S SOUTH BEGINNING TO LOSE HER FACULTIES SO HER SON HIRES A CHAUFFEUR TO DRIVE HER. SHE WANTS NAUGHT TO DO WITH HIM. HERE WE HAVE MISS DAY-SEE….SO THIS IS A DAY TRIP TO SEE SOMETHING. WHO IS MISS, CHARLOTTE IS A MISS BUT YOUNG. 🤔 HMMM MISS STACY, WHO IS STACY. OR SOMEONE JUST GETTING OUT FOR A DRIVE BY CHAUFFEUR HMTQ IS NOT A MISS BUTBIT MIGHT BE HER . SORRY KIDS I AM ALL OVER THE MAP GUESSING HERE.

FOUR!!!! ……………

FORE IS A GOLFING EXPRESSION TO WARN A BALL IS IN PLAY AND TO MIND YOURSELF. WHATS THIS WARNING FOUR AND FOUR EXCLAMATION MARKS? GOLLY I WISH IT MEANT CAMBRIDGE BABY NUMBER FOUR. I KNOW I DO CARRY ON SO ABOUT THAT BUT WOULDN’T IT BE JUST MARVELLOUS? I AM CERTAIN WILLIAM MIGHT BE YELLING HELP🤣🤣🤣😂😂, I REMEMBER WHEN HRH PRINCE LOUIS WAS BORN, HE TOOK THE CHILDREN TO SEE HIM, GESTURED ST PHOTOGRAPHERS THREE NOW!!! 👶 👶 👶 🍼

an art gallery,when??………

TWO THINGS HERE, THE FIRST IS THE HOLD STILL, EXHIBIT THAT THE ROYAL PHOTOGRAPHIC SOCIETY IS DOING WITH CATHERINE AS THEIR PATRON. IF YOU ARE UNFAMILIAR, THEY ARE SOLICITING PHOTOS FROM THE PUBLIC FOR EXPERIENCES DURING THE PANDEMIC. I BELIEVE THEY WANT TO WHITTLE IT DOWN TO 100 . MY THAT WILL BE A MONUMENTAL TASK WILL IT NOT? ALSO, TODAY ARTHUR EDWARDS, NOTED ROYAL PHOTOGRAPHER MADE SOME ABSOLUTELY LOVELY COMMENTS ABOUT CATHERINE’S SKILL IN PHOTOGRAPHY AND HOW IT HAS GROWN. MIGHT WE, AT SOME POINT IN THE FUTURE, SEE AN EXHIBIT OF HER WORK? WE LOVE THE PHOTOS OF THE CHILDREN💜💜💜💜💕💕💕💕💜💜💜💜. MY THAT WOULD BE A WONDERFUL EXHIBIT. NATURE SCENES, URBAN, ANYTHING.

single prayers please.

I THINK THIS IS A PLAY ON WORDS, PEOPLE TO WALK SINGLE FILE, WITH PHYSICAL DISTANCING AS MORE MOVEMENT IS ALLOWED, PEOPLE RETURNING TO WORK, SHOP ETC. I FULLY BELIEVE MANY MANY PRAYERS 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 ARE BEING SAID SO THAT THE VIRUS WILL NOT AGAIN CAUSE A MASSIVE SECOND WAVE OF INFECTIONS AS RESTRICTIONS ARE SLOWLY EASED.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you MM Anon.😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————-

16. May 14

MM ANON …… school of thought ……… bulldoze in and takeover ……… Braveheart & Boris ………… dead theatre ……… GOT………… Charlotte summer ……… anticipation of antibodies ………… China???………… death of Hollywood ………… 🎼blow a little whistle 🎼………… we have no plan B……… I’m so bored ………… “ we’re gonna need a bigger fence”

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊💜💜

MAY 15/2020

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #16. 1600 HRS

school of thought ……… bulldoze in and takeover

OH GOOD HEAVENS WHERE DO I START?? MADAM WAS UP TO NO GOOD AGAIN TODAY AND AS USUAL DETAILS KEEP CHANGING. FIRST MADAM AND “H” CRASHED A ZOOM MEETING OF UNION OF TEACHERS, OH WAIT NO, NO NO, NO NO, IT WAS A MENTAL HEALTH WORKERS HOTLINE ZOOM MEETING WAIT TEN MINUTES THE STORY WILL CHANGE YET.

AS PER USUAL THE DETAILS ARE WHERE MADAM HAS EPIC FAILS, THE SIZE OF THE PHOTOSHOPPED HARRY IS NOT IN SYNC WITH HER AND HER POSITION. AS PER HER USUAL SHE CHOOSES THE UNIFORM SHIRT AND THE WORST POSSIBLE FUZZY PHOTO OF HARRY AND SHE IS CRYSTAL CLEAR.

JUST ALLEGEDLY SOMEHOW CRASHED THIS ZOOM MEETING ABD QUITE LITERALLY TOOK IT OVER. MIND YOU MADAM IS AN EXPERT AT TEACHERS, UNIONS, AND MENTAL HEALTH😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣. MY SIDE HURTS FROM LAUGHING.

……… Braveheart & Boris

THE SNP, NICOLA STURGEON AND PM BORIS JOHNSON HAVE HAD THEIR DISAGREEMENTS. WHILE HE WAS ILL SHE WAS QUITE STRONG BUT SINCE HE HAS RETURNED HE HAS ALL BUT PUT HER IN THE PLACE WHERE HE THINKS SHE SHOULD BE. THE BRAVEHEART , WILLIAM WALLACE SCOTTISH FREEDOM FIGHTER. SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 THE BRAVE…..OH FLOWER OF SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 . NEEDLESS TO SAY, THERE HAVE BEEN AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE ISSUES. A GREAT DEAL OF SCOTS WANT INDEPENDENCE. THE FUTURE OF THAT WILL E INTERESTING TO WATCH ALSO.

40698985030_fd04d9bfbe_b_1024x1024.jpeg

………… dead theatre

THEATRES CLOSED, MOVIES CLOSED, ETC ETC ETC. THERE IS SO MUCH COLLATERAL FALLOUT DAMAGE, DESTRUCTION, FROM THIS PANDEMIC. IT SEEMINGLY GETS BIGGER DAILY. FEMICIDE IS INCREASING. IN 🇨🇦 7 WOMEN HAVE BEEN MURDERED BY THEIR PARTNERS SINCE THE LOCKDOWN BEGAN. THIS TRULY IS GHASTLY ON AN UNPRECEDENTED SCALE. ALARM BELLS SHOULD BE RINGING WORLDWIDE.

……… GOT…………

GOT GAME OF THRONES….OH HOW I MISS IT😫😫😫😫😫😩😩😩😩😩😖😖😖😖🥺🥺🥺. FEELS LIKE A GAME DOESNT IT BUT ITS REAL, REAL LIVES. REAL HARRY IS BEING DRAGGED ALONG INA FAKE PR RELATIONSHIP. I DO NOT KNOW WHY THIS IS ALLOWED TO CONTINUE, HMTQ MUST HAVE HER REASONS. BUT THE INVOLVEMENT OF THE DUO IN AT FIRST A TEACHERS UNION MEETING GOES AGAINST ROYALPROTOCOL….GOOD HEAVENS HARRY KNOWS THAT…HE IS NOT WITH HER. THEN MADAM MUST HAVE HEARD OR READ THAT, SO THE STORY QUICKLY CHANGED TO A MENTAL HEALTH SUPPORT LINE MEETING.

I AM NOT SURE WHICH CHARACTER SHE WOULD….. BE IN GOT……ONE OF THE NIGHT KING’S DEAD ALIVE MINIONS DOING EVIL METHINKS.

Charlotte summer ………

WHAT WILL OUR LOTTIE BE UP TO? TENNIS LESSONS? WITH MUMMY? OH I AM CERTAIN SHE HAS IDEAS OF ALLSORTS. LOVE HER TO PIECES💜💜💜💜.

anticipation of antibodies …………

THERE HAS BEEN A NEW CONFIRMED MEASUREMENT FOR ANTIBODIES EVIDENT IN SEROLOGICAL TESTING. THIS IS A HUGE BREAKTHROUGH IN TERMS OF TRACKING WHO HAS ANTIBODIES BUT WAS ASYMPTOMATIC. MASSIVE BRILLIANT NEWS.

China???…………

SADLY IN OUR COUNTRY 🇨🇦, ESPECIALLY OUT WEST, THERE HAS BEEN A SPATE OF ASSAULTS, VERBAL ABUSE OF ASIANS, IN CANADA ASIANS ARE CHINESE, ETC. IN THE U.K. ASIANS ARE FROM PAKISTAN, AFGHANISTAN ETC. SAME WORD VERY DIFFERENT MEANINGS, JUST SHARING THE INFORMATION. THERE ARE MANY QUESTIONS ABOUT THE REAL ORIGIN OF THE COVID-19 STRAIN OF THE CORONAVIRUS FIRST EVIDENT IN WUHAN CHINA. HOWEVER, IN SOME EUROPEAN COUNTRIES, UNFORTUNATELY I CANNOT RECALL EXACTLY WHICH, I THINK SPAIN….BUT THEY RETESTED SAMPLES FROM LATE LAST YEAR, AND THEY TESTED POSITIVE FOR THE VIRUS VARIANT. SO THIS WAS OUT EARLIER BUT WHY DIDNT IT SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE THEN? THERE IS SO MUCH UNKNOWN, NOW WE HAVE TODAY CONFIRMATION THAT THESE RASHLIKE SYMPTOMS, SIMILAR TO KAWASAKI DISEASE ARE IN FACT CAUSED BY THIS BASTARD OF A VIRUS.

THERE ARE A MYRIAD OF ISSUES AND A ZILLION CONSPIRACY THEORIES. BUT WE NEED TO GET OUR ACT TOGETHER BEFORE THINGS GET REALLY OUT OF CONTROL.

death of Hollywood …………

NO MORE HOLLYWOOD MOVIES , NO SUMMER BLOCKBUSTERS, NOTHING IN PRODUCTION…..THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. THE NEW HEROES ARE REAL LIFE HEROES, TRUCK DRIVERS, GROCERY STORE WORKERS, SHELF STOCKERS, MEDICAL PERSONNEL, NURSES AND ON AND ON, THERE IS NO UNRINGING THIS BELL 🔔. THE WORLD IS FOREVER CHANGED.

🎼blow a little whistle 🎼…………

CUTE PINOCCHIO SONG ABOUT DOING THE RIGHT THING. A WHISTLE BLOWER IS SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES THEY HAVE INFORMATION THE PUBLIC SHOULD KNOW BUT ITS BEING KEPT QUIET SO THEY GO TO THE MEDIA AND SPILL THE BEANS SO TO SPEAK. THERE IS A WHISTLE BLOWER IN AMERICA ABOUT THE PANDEMIC AND THE PRESIDENT IS FURIOUS. RICK BRIGHT HAS BEEN OUSTED FROM HIS JOB AFTER SAYING THAT BY RESTARTING THINGS TOO FAST AMERICA IS IN FOR A VERY DARK WINTER AND A MASSIVE RESURGENCE OF COVID-19.

we have no plan B………

THERE IS NO PLAN B, I READ THAT THIS MORNING IN THE DM. GOING AHEAD WITH PUBLIC TRANSPORT WHILE STILL SOCIAL DISTANCING YEP OK IN LONDON WHAT?? THE ARTICLE IN THE DM TALKING ABOUT THIS AND PIERS MORGAN INTERVIEW AND ARTICLE REGARDING LONDON MAYOR SADIQ KHAN IS SHOCKING. SUCH UTTER DISREGARD FOR HUMAN LIFE, I AM GOING TO HOLD MY TONGUE NOW.

I’m so bored …………

OH DEARIE ME, I BET MANY CHILDREN ARE SAYING THIS REPEATEDLY, THEIR PARENTS AND FAMILY FEEL THE SAME WAY. BEING ABLE TO GET OUTDOORS MORE NOW MIGHT HELP SOME OF THAT CABIN FEVER PEOPLE ARE EXPERIENCING.

“ we’re gonna need a bigger fence”

JAWS REFERENCE, WE ARE GONNA NEED A BIGGER BOAT 🦈. FENCES SHIELDING HAVE GONE UP AROUND THE MANSION WHERE DINO AND H ARE ALLEGEDLY LIVING THE HIGH LIFE. COVER IT ALL UP, SHE WANTS PRIVACY YET CONTINUES TO FAKE A LIFE WITH HARRY. GOOD HEAVENS HOW LONG CAN THIS GO ON??

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————-

17. May 15

MM ANON ……… a lovely surprise ……… sweet Charlotte ……… it’s teaching Jim, ……………”Harry, you know you’ll always have a place “……………”he’s not happy Catherine “ ……… R1………… re-train………… clubbings, clubbed…… Tea-CHING…………… “ yes, that’s a really good question”…………2 metres for ever???………… a rally in Calais. ………… GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧🌈🇨🇦

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MAY 15/20

RIDDLE #17

2145 HRS

a lovely surprise ………

YEP, KIDS, I AM GOING OUT ON A LIMB, YET AGAIN…I DO BELIEVE WE ARE GOING TO BE GETTING NEWS OF CAMBRIDGE 👶 BABY NUMBER FOUR IS ON THE WAY. THEY HAVE BEEN PREDICTING A BABY BOOM AS A RESULT OF THIS LOCKDOWN. THE DM HEADLINE OF AN ARTICLE TODAY SAYING A” GLOWING KATE MIDDLETON” AND WILLIAM AS THEY DO A VIDEOCALL TO A MENTAL HEALTH TEXT SERVICE ENTITLED, SHOUT. WHEN PEOPLE ARE EXPECTING, YES I AM OLD FASHIONED AND USE THAT WORD, ARE OFTEN SEEN AND KNOWN TO HAVE A GLOW ABOUT THEM. I KNOW PEOPLE DO NOT LIKE SPECULATIONS BUT I WOULD BE DELIGHTED.😊😊😊

sweet Charlotte ………

OUR SWEET HRH PRINCESS CHARLOTTE JUST CELEBRATED HER FIFTH BIRTHDAY ON MAY 2/2020. AS PER HER USUAL, CATHERINE TOOK THE MOST AMAZING PHOTOS , ESPECIALLY THE PORTRAIT, OH MY SHE IS SWEET AND BEAUTIFUL CHILD. SHE WILL BE A BEAUTY LIKE HER MUM AND A STRONG PERSONALITY LIKE HMTQ. THE LOVELY PHOTOS OF CHARLOTTE DELIVERING HOMEMADE PASTA TO THOSE IN NEED IN HER GREY RUFFLY DRESS, LOVELY. I HAD A RUFFLY DRESS LIKE THAT IN RED PLAID WITH A WHITE SAILOR TYPE COLLAR FOR CHRISTMAS WHEN I WAS IN JUNIOR HIGH, MAYBE , 12 YEARS OLD, OH I LOVED THAT DRESS!!

“it’s teaching Jim, ……………”

HERE OUR DEAR MM ANON IS BRINGING STAR TREK REFERENCE AGAIN, JIM, WAS CAPTAIN JAMES T KIRK, IN THE ORIGINAL STAR TREK TV SHOW. IT IS HARD TO FATHOM THE IMPACT AND SPAWN THAT SHOW HAS BROUGHT IN TV, FILMS, TECHNOLOGY AND IT ONLY RAN THREE SEASONS. REMARKABLE!

MADAM THINKS SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING AND CAN FAKE INTERRUPT A ZOOM MEETING IN A FAKE BACKGROUND. NO TEACHING IS USEFUL AND SHE IS BEYOND BEING RETAUGHT HOW TO TREAT PEOPLE

WHO IS JIM, IN THIS SCENARIO? WHAT IS BEING TAUGHT? LIFE LESSON PERHAPS? OR SOMETHING IS TEACHING JIM HIMSELF, AS THE CAPTAIN. I THINK THIS MIGHT JUST BE THE PROCESS OF REINTEGRATING HARRY, UNTANGLING HIS PUBLIC IMAGE/FAKE PERSONA THAT MADAM HAS CREATED.

“Harry, you know you’ll always have a place “……………”

I FEEL PRETTY CERTAIN THIS IS HMTQ TALKING WITH HARRY, PHONE, VIDEOLINK MORE LIKELY. SHE IS REASSURING HIM, HE ALWAYS HAS HIS FAMILY, HE IS A BLOOD PRINCE AND IT WILL TAKE TIME WITH SOME OF THE PUBLIC, HIS FAMILY IS ENCIRCLED WITH LOVE AROUND HIM. SO AM I AND MANY MANY HERE AND WORLDWIDE. HARRY JUST IGNORE THE HATERS 💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊😊HARRY😊😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜. KEEP DOING THE VIDEO MEETINGS….THE REAL ONES!!!…..NOT MADAMS FALSE MEDIA…..

HARRY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE IN OUR HEARTS ALWAYS. NEVER EVER GIVE UP ON YOU OR BELIEVE THE LIES THAT HAS BERN SPUN IN AN EVIL WEB QUITE LITERALLY ON THE WEB INTERNET AND THEN SPEWED ON SOCIAL MEDIA AND OTHER MEDIA.

“he’s not happy Catherine “ ………

WILLIAM IS SPEAKING WITH HIS WIFE. HE IS CONCERNED ABOUT HOW HIS DEAR BELOVED, YES BELOVED IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE WORDS💜💜💜, BROTHER IS HANDLING ALL THIS PR LIES, FAKE KABUKI MADAM IS DOING. . HE KNOWS AND IS UPDATED REGULARLY ON THE POISONOUS WRITINGS DONE BY PENS AND BY POISONOUS KEYBOARDS WRITING AND TYPING HIDEOUS LIES THAT ARE JUST BEYOND THE PALE. SEEKING ADVICE OR A LISTENING EAR. THEY ARE WITHOUT A DOUBT 100% SUPPORTIVE, LOVING AND WANTING THIS OVER. IT IS EXTREMELY HARD SEEING SOMEONE YOU LOVE SUFFER SO. THIS TRULY IS UNPRECEDENTED. 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻FOR ALL OF YOU IN OUR ROYAL FAMILY.

R1…………

I COULD SAY R1, A ONE WOMAN SHOW THAT HAS INFECTED THE ENTIRE ROYAL FAMILY, THE PUBLIC, THE COMMONWEALTH AND MORE. SHE IS 1, RACHEL=R1. THE CURE FOR THIS DESTRUCTIVE INVASION IS JUSTICE……AND IT IS COMING I HAVE NO DOUBT. ⚖️

AS THIS REGARDS TO COVID-19 AND THE PROCESS OF UNLOCKDOWN. THESE THINGS ARE ALL SO VERY COMPLEX.

IN TRACKING EPIDEMIC STATISTICS IS KEY. R0, IS USED TO MEASURE THE POTENTIAL TRANSMISSION OF A VIRUS, DISEASE ETC.

“In epidemiology, the basic reproduction value describes the average number of people an individual can expect to infect.

It is called the reproductive value, or “R0 ” - pronounced ‘R nought' or ‘R zero’. The measure is used to track how many people, on average, will be infected for every one person who has the disease.

The number is not fixed. It can be altered by a range of factors, including behaviour, which is why countries around the world have imposed stringent social distancing measures. It’s not rocket science - keeping people away from one another obviously makes a huge difference to the potential infection rate.”

I WOULD SUGGEST THIS RESOURCE I RESEARCHED …

https://www.healthknowledge.org.uk/public-health-textbook/research-methods/1a-epidemiology/epidemic-theory

THESE ARE ALL KEY TO THE UNLOCKDOWNING, OF THE U.K., YES I MADE ANOTHER NEW WORD OH MY IT HAS DOWNING IN IT!!! 😁😁

re-train…………

FIRST STARTED AS A LOW DRUMBEAT, METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING , NOW IT IS BEING SAID OUTRIGHT. WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE NEW NORMAL, MANY JOBS WILL NO LONGER EXIST. SO MANY THINGS HAVE AND WILL CONTINUE TO CHANGE.

TO RE-TRAIN IS TO LEARN A NEW TRADE OR EDUCATION FOR A DIFFERENT FIELD OF WORK. MANY MILLIONS WILL BE FACING THIS AFTER THE HORRENDOUS PANDEMIC CRISIS HAS STABILIZED.

I DO THINK THIS HAS ANOTHER MEANING REGARDING THE RAILROAD , SO VERY MANY FURLOUGHS THERE☹️☹️, AND OTHER PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION MEANS. I CANNOT RECALL THE NUMBER BUT ITS MASSIVE THE LOSS IN REVENUE OF THE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION IN LONDON ALONE. THE ECONOMIC IMPACT, I DO NOT THINK OUR IMAGINATIONS CAN FULLY GRASP YET HOW THINGS WILL BE. RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO BE KIND, BE CALM , SUPPORT ONE ANOTHER AND CARRY ON, ONE DAY AT A TIME AS THE CRISTY LANE SONG GOES. ONE DAY AT A TIME SWEET JESUS🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻.

clubbings, clubbed……

CRAZY PARTIERS ITS MADNESS DRINKING DANCING AS IF THINGS WERE JUST USUAL. BEACHING, PARTYING. NON COMPLIANCE WITH REGULATIONS HAS LED TO MANY FINES ETC. DEALING WITH IMPAIRED PEOPLE I HAVE NO DOUBT SONE OFFICERS GOT CLUBBED LITERALLY. LOCKDOWN, CLUBS CLOSED, CLUBBED CLOSED QUITE LITERALLY.

Tea-CHING……………

OH YES MADAM ALLEGEDLY CRASHED A ZOOM MEETING WITH “H” OF A TEACHERS UNION, WAIT, OH NO IT WAS A MENTAL HEALTH CHARITY, WITH A GUY WITH A TWITTER NO PAGE FOUND.

WHEN YOU HEAR THE WORDS CHA-CHING IT MEANS MONEY. PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME SHE IS EARNING MONEY BY GIVING LECTURES ONLINE USING HER WORD 🥗 SALAD. AS I SAID YESTERDAY OR DAY BEFSHE IS SKILLED AT ALL THINGS A REAL RACHEL OF ALL TRADES, LITERALLY ALL TRADES🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂.

I KNOW FERGIE, SARAH FERGUSON WAS SELLING PRETTY TEAS. HAS MADAM COPIED SOMEONE, YET AGAIN, AND IS BRINGING OUT TEA FOR SAKE?

OR IS IT THE HORRIBLE EUPHEMISM I SO DETEST, AND NO CLUE WHERE IT CAME FROM BUT I WISH IT WOULD GO AWAY. THE PEJORATIVE USE OF THE WORD ‘TEA’ BEING USED AS GOSSIP. YES IF SHE SELLS HER JUICY SECRET DIARY SHE KEPT, AND A TELL ALL BOOK, THE SUGARS WILL BUY IT FOR SURE BUT WILL ANYONE ELSE? I DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH CHING SHE WILL GET FROM HER CUP OF TEA. I AM CERTAIN IT WILL BE EMBARGOED IN THE U.K. IF IT IS PRINTED IN AMERICA.

REMEMBER WAY BACK LAST YEAR MADAM MADE THAT QUICK WEEKEND TO NYC TO WATCH HER BESTIE LOSE THE U.S OPEN, WHEN THEY TOLD HER NOT TO COME? I CLEARLY RECALL A CLUE IN THE RIDDLE AND IT WAS ABOUT HER MEETING WITH A BOOK PUBLISHING HOUSE THAT WEEKEND TOO.

“ yes, that’s a really good question”…………

WHEN WILL ALL THIS END? WHEN WILL MADAM FACE JUSTICE? WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN HER MOS LAWSUIT? WHEN CAN HARRY BE PUBLICLY REUNITED AND GET HIS REPUTATION BACK AND THE LOVE IF EVERYONE AGAIN.

WHEN WILL COVID STOP? WHEN WILL THERE BE A VACCINE? HOW WILL THE LOCKDOWN END, HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE?

I COULD CONTINUE WITH MANY MORE BUT YOU KIDS GET THE JIST.

2 metres for ever???…………

THE EXPERTS IN INFECTIOUS DISEASES, EPIDEMIOLOGY, ER PHYSICIANS, VARIOUS PROFESSIONALS ALL CONCUR THIS VIRUS IS A MYSTERY. WHY IT IS SO AGGRESSIVE IN CERTAIN AREAS BUT NOT OTHERS. THEY HAVE YET TO FIND SOUND SCIENCE DATE TO EXPLAIN THIS. THE WHO, WORLD GEALTH ORGANIZATION, ALONG WITH OTHERS ARE SAYING THIS IS A MARATHON JUST BEGINNING. THIS VIRUS WILL LIKELY REMAIN WITH US. THEY ARE HOPING FOR WHAT IS CALLED HERD IMMUNITY. I KNOW IT SOUNDS ODD BUT IT COMES FROM AGRICULTURE, IN DISEASES AMONG THE HERD, THEY DEVELOP AN IMMUNITY TO AN EXISTING AND PRESENT VIRUS. HOWEVER IN HUMANS BEINGS , THIS WILL REQUIRE EXTENSIVE TESTING,

DR. TAM, OUR🇨🇦, CHIEF MEDICAL HEALTH OFFICER FOR OUR COUNTRY ANNOUNCED A TWO YEAR STUDY. THEY WILL BE TESTING SEROLOGY OF A MILLION I THINK THAT IS THE NUMBER, AND WILL MONITOR FOR PRESENCE OF ANTIBODIES, IF THEY EXIST, IF THEY CHANGE OVERTIME OR VANISH. THIS WILL BE KEY IN KNOWING HOW MANY ANTIBODIES ARE NEEDED TO MAKE ONE IMMUNE, AND HOW LONG THE IMMUNITY LASTS. ITS ALL VERY FASCINATING TO ME.

SO, AS USUAL WITH ME YOU GET DINNER AND A SHOW WITH EACH CLUE, THE QUESTION HAS SERIOUSLY BEEN RAISED IS SOCIAL/PHYSICAL DISTANCING OF WHICH 2 METRES IS THE DISTANCE, GOING TO CONTINUE TO BE A PERMANENT PART OF LIFE AS WE KNOW IT. THAT IS A VERY DIFFICULT CHANGE IN OUR LIVES FOR SURE.

a rally in Calais. …………

THE LITTLE SHIP CLUB IS A BOAT/YACHTING CLUB IN LONDON. THEY HAVE REGULAR REGATTAS ETC. THE ORIGINAL CLUB WAS FOUNDED WAY BACK IN 1926, TO CONNECT OVER LECTURES AND TEACHING ON YACHTING!! REAL YACHTING. IT HAS ITS BUILDING CALLED THE CLUBHOUSE, AT BELL WHARF, RIGHT ON THE THAMES, THE ONKY ONE IN LONDON.

THEY HOLD AN ANNUAL MAY REGATTA OR RALLY, HOWEVER IT IS CANCELLED DUE TO, YOU KNOW IT, THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC.

SO WE HAVE YACHTING REFERENCE HERE. WE ALL KNOW SOMEONE WHO HAS EXTENSIVE, AND I MEAN E X T E N S I V E😂😂😂😂🤣🤣YACHTING EXPERIENCE. SO CANCELLED HMMMMMM……NO LONGER UP TO RALLYING AND YACHTING AT 43? I THINK NORMAL YACHTING 43 IS PERFECT. HOWEVER THE OTHER KIND OF YACHTING….43….NOT SO MUCH CHA CHING IN THAT(REFERENCE TO OTHER CLUE).

GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧🌈🇨🇦

GSTQAOBC IS MY THINGY I ALWAYS ADD, AT THE END OF MOST OF MY NOTES, POSTS ETC. IT MEANS, “GOD SAVE THE QUEEN AND OUR BELOVED COMMONWEALTH”.

HERE IS , GOD BLESS HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN AND OUR GORGEOUS COMMONWEALTH. OR GRATEFUL, ANOTHER G WORD PERHAPS.

IF I MAY BE SO BOLD, THERE IS A RAINBOW , WHICH IS A COVENANT, BETWEEN THE U.K. AND CANADA. WE ARE VERY MUCH A COMMONWEALTH COUNTRY. HMTQ IS A PART OF EVERY SINGLE THING IN 🇨🇦. PROVINCES AND TERRITORIES HAVE HMTQ OFFICIAL REPRESENTATIVE, THE LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR. WE PRONOUNCE LIEUTENANT, LEFFTENANT IN CANADA. THE COUNTRY HAS A GOVERNOR GENERAL WHO IS HMTQ REPRESENTATIVE TO OUR ENTIRE COUNTRY. ANY LEGISLATION, PROVINCIAL AND FEDERAL IS SIGNED OFF BY THEM. HMTQ IS ON THE MONEY ETC ETC.

I THINK MM ANON IS REFERRING TO THE WONDERFUL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN US. I AM EXTENDING FURTHER, THE WONDERFUL CONNECTION AND TRUTH SEEKING THAT OUR BELOVED💜💜🐼💜💜 HAS COMMITTED TO AND THOSE WHO ARE HERE COMMITTED TO IT AS WELL. I CAN ASSURE YOU, LIFE SITUATIONS MAY HAPPEN, BUT WE WILL NEVER BREAK OUT OATHS AND RESOLVE FOR TRUTH, JUSTICE AND OUR HARRY BACK, RIGHT WHERE HE BELONGS PUBLICLY. 💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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18. May 16

MM ANON …… “ I’m keeping my tennis shoes on”……… “I’m not getting out of bed for less than 3mill” …… cold nose undercover ………… a learning yearning ………… “friends thou hast, and there adoption tried “…… …… 🎼ya gotta give a little 🎼……………… “I’m not happy about them returning William “ …………… “ One needs ones hair attended too”………… “ I’ll bloody cut it myself !!”……… “ I know!! … SYDNEY!!”

Thank you…😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MAY 16/2020

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #18

1400 HRS

“ I’m keeping my tennis shoes on”………

CHARLOTTE TAKING TENNIS LESSONS WITH CATHERINE AT QUEENS TENNIS 🎾 CLUB. CHARLOTTE WANTS TO KEEP HER REGULAR SHOES ON, USUALLY WITH TENNIS YOU PROTECT THE GREENS WITH TENNIS SHOES. A BATTLE OF WILLS MIGHT ENSUE🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

“I’m not getting out of bed for less than 3mill”

THE VERY FIRST MODEL TO USE THE TITLE WAS 🇨🇦CANADIAN LINDA EVANGELISTA. SHE WAS FAMOUS FOR SAYING THE ABOVE SAYING EXCEPT I THINK IT WAS $100,000.00. SO MADAM IS REFUSING MINUSCULE OFFERS AND HAS SET THE LOWEST AT THREE MILLION. GOOD LUCK RACHEL!

…… cold nose undercover …………

I READ COLD NOSE I THINK IF A DOGGY OR ANY WINTER MORNING. UNDERCOVER IS IN BED OR A DETECTIVE TRYING TO BLEND IN TO GET EVIDENCE. I AM GOING TO BE CUTE AND SAY HARRY IS GETTING ALOT OF COMFORT FROM HIS DOG AND THEY SLEEP TOGETHER AS MOST DOGS DO. WAKENS HARRY WITH HIS COLD NOSE.

AS I HAVE SAID FOR FOREVER NOW, HARRY HAS BEEN OVERTLY COVERT WITH MADAM , GATHERING ANY AND ALL EVIDENCE HE CAN.SOMETIMES LAW ENFORCEMENT USE A STING OPERATION TO CATCH SOMEONE IN A CRIMINAL ACT. NOT SURE HOW THE LAWS APPLY HERE.

a learning yearning …………

WE ARE LEARNING OUR WORLD WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. I KNOW LONDON SCOOP COULD NOT HAVE KNOWN ABOUT COVID , BUT IF YOU READ HER WORDS, ITS EERILY THEY APPLY.TOTALLY SEE THE WORLD DIFFERENTLY, LEARNING WHOLE NEW WAYS OF DOING THINGS UNDER LOCKDOWN. THE FUTURE WILL BRING MORE CHANGE, WE CANNOT FATHOM IT ALL JUST NOW. WE YEARN FOR A WORLD WE HAD, SO MANY IF US TOOK FOR GRANTED, THINGS CHANGED ON A DIME.

“friends thou hast, and there adoption tried “……

I LOVE THIS SOO MUCH, BACK TO THE BARD. I SHALL ENDEAVOUR TO BE LESS WORDY. THIS IS FROM HAMLET. TO BE CORRECT IT IS” FRIENDS THOU HAST, AND THEIR ADOPTION TRIED. BASICALLY KEEP CLOSE THOSE YOU LOVE AND TRUST, CHERISH THEM, NEVER TAKE FOR GRANTED. HARRY HAS LONG TERM FRIENDS WHOM I BELIEVE ARE HELPING HIM GET THROUGH THESE TOUGH DAYS.

UNDOUBTEDLY HERE WITH THE WORD ADOPTION WE ARE REFERENCING ARCHIE. SO AT WHAT POINT IS THE TRUTH COMING OUT, IF AT ALL? WE HAVE ASKED MANY TIMES HOW WILL THEY DEAL WITH THIS ISSUE. ONLY THE FUTURE WILL TELL.

🎼ya gotta give a little 🎼………………

I LOVE DEANO, SMOOTH VOICE, DEAN MARTIN GLORY OF LOVE. ALL ABOUT GIVE A LITTLE, COMPROMISE, RELATIONSHIPS BRING TEARS, JOYS, FIGHTS, COMPROMISE IS THE KEY. TRULY IS THE KEY TO ALL THINGS IN LIFE IF YOU WANT TO HAVE MEANINGFUL CONNECTIONS WITH OTHER PEOPLE.

“I’m not happy about them returning William “

AS WITH MANY MILLIONS OF PARENTS, CATHERINE HAS GREAT TREPIDATION AND WORRY ABOUT SENDING THE LITTLE ONES BACK TO SCHOOL.

“ One needs ones hair attended too”………… “ I’ll bloody cut it myself !!”……… “ I know!! … SYDNEY!!”

HERE WE HAVE A SCENE FOR THE AGES. EVERYONE DEALING WITH ROOTS CO,ING OUT, NEEDING COLOURING OR HIGHLIGHTS DONE. GO ON YOUTUBE FOR HORRIBLE LOCKDOWN HAIRUTS😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. SO HIMSELF IS WANTING HIS HAIR CUT AND IS MORE THAN EAGER TO TAKE ON THE JOB. HMTQ IS BRINGING UP THE SUBJECT. AGAIN POOR SYDNEY IS CRIED OUT FOR. I THINK THIS IS BRILLIANT.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you…😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*entertainment purposes

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19. May 17

MM ANON …… a Diamond evaluator ……… Of no consequence whatsoever ……… straight to credits. ………… LA Confidential ………… 🎼no sir I don’t mean maybe 🎼…………… 🎼Don’t fence me in🎼…………… “ I want Adele you a story “……………… The man from U.N.C.L.E. Harry …………… “ ones lockdown sucks” ………… “ miserable without Boddys old thing “ …………… “Sydney’s slacking “.

Thank you 😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

May 17/2020

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MMANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

RIDDLE #20

a Diamond evaluator ………

MADAM HAS WORN SO MUCH FAKE JEWELRY DURING HER TIME AS A ‘MEMBER’ OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. MOST ASSUME IT IS REAL. I WONDER IF THE IRS HAS HIRED A GEMOLOGIST TO ASSESS THE VALUE OF HER PIECES IN PART OF DETERMINING HOW MUCH TAX SHE OWES. WONT THE BE DISAPPOINTED😫😫🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

Of no consequence whatsoever ………

IN THE LONG RUN AND HISTORICALLY NATURE OF THE ROYAL FAMILY, MADAM IS BUT A VERY SMALL BLIP ON THE RADAR. HER FUTURE IS SEALED BY HER OWN CHOICES AND MISBEHAVIOUR.

straight to credits. …………

MADAMS FILM ROLES, THE PHRASE STRAIGHT TO CREDITS IS OFTEN USED WHEN THE ACTING OR THE STORY IS HORRENDOUS. EVEN VOICEOVER WORK IS HORRENDOUS. THIS MAY ALSO REFER TO ANY FILMS IF AN ADULT NATURE THAT IS IN NEGOTIATION AND THE POWERS THAT BE WANT TO KNOW THOSE RESPONSIBLE.

LA Confidential …………

GREAT FILM NOIR FILM BUT DONE IN THE 1990’s. LOTS OF MURDER AND MAYHEM.

LOTS OF STUFF KEPT QUIET IN HOLLYWOOD. WITH THE #METOO MOVEMENT LOTS HAS CHANGED. I WONDER IF MADAM HAS SOMETHING ON SOMEONE. GIVEN HER LOST YEARS I CANNOT FATHOM WHAT SHE ALL KNOW ABOUT THE HIGH ROLLERS AND VERY WEALTHY MEN.

🎼no sir I don’t mean maybe 🎼……………

YES SIR THATS MY BABY NO SIR DONT MEAN MAYBE YES SIR THATS MY BABY NOW….SONG FROM OLD HOLLYWOOD FILMS..MY WHEELHOUSE….WHEN FILMS WERE FILMS. WE ARRIVE AT ARCHIE…WILL THE REAL DNA COME OUT FINALLY AND I DOUBT WE WILL FIND OUT WHERE THE BABY IS ETC THE PRESS WOUKD FOREVER HAUNT AND HUNT THIS CHILD.

🎼Don’t fence me in🎼……………

ANOTHER GREAT OLD SONG, MADAM DOES NOT WANT TO BE CONTROLLED IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. WELL I SUSPECT BEFORE TOO LONG THINGS WILL CHANGE DRASTICALLY IN TERMS OF WHO CONTROLS HER IF CHARGES. ARE FILED AND ALSO THAT PESKY MOS LAWSUIT SHE FILED. ESPECIALLY NO INCARCERATION NO ORANGE JUMPSUIT.

“ I want Adele you a story “………………

THIS IS YET ANOTHER MYSTERY, WILL THE REAL ADELE STAND UP PLEASE. SHE IS UNRECOGNIZABLE. SHE IS A FAMOUS BRITISH MUSICIAN BEAUTIFUL CURVY WOMAN. LAST WEEK SHE POSTED INSTAGRAM PHOTOS, NO MENTION OF SURGERY OR ANYTHING BUT SHE LOOKS NOTHING LIKE HERSELF. OUT OF THE BLUE TWICE NOW SHE HAS PUBLICLY COME OUT IN SUPPORT OF THE SUSSEXES. ODD, NOTHING BEFORE NOW, WHY IS THAT AND WHY NOW? TRULY A MYSTERY INDEED. ALL THIS HOLLYWOOD STUFF WE SURE HAVE HAD OUR EYES OPENED TO ALL THE PR LIES.

The man from U.N.C.L.E. Harry ……………

MINUS THE HARRY THIS WAS AN OLD SPY TV SHOW. A LONG LONG TIME AGO WE HAD A RIDDLE CLUE THAT AN UNCLE WAS HELPING A NEPHEW WITH SEEKING COURT ASSISTANCE. SOME AT THE TIME IT WAS REGARDING THE LIES ABOUT THE MARQUIS AND MARCHIONESS OF CHOMONDELEY, THE RUMOURS MADAM ALLEGEDLY STARTED ABOUT WILLIAM AND ROSE. NOW ARE WE SUSPECTING PRINCE ANDREW WAS A BRITISH SPY WHILE HIS TIME WITH THE LATE JE?? HE WAS THE BRITISH TRADE ENVOY AT THAT TIME MAKES SENSE.

IT ALSO MAKES TOTAL SENSE FOR HARRY DOING THE SAME DURING HIS TIME WITH MADAM, INTEL GATHERING.

“ ones lockdown sucks” ………… “ miserable without Boddys old thing “ …………… “Sydney’s slacking “.

HMTQ IS TIRING OF LOCKDOWN, ALTHOUGH I CANNOT QUITE PICTURE HER USING THE WORDS SUCKS BUT IT IS TRUE. WE ARE ALL FEELING THE EFFECTS. SOUNDS LIKE THEY HAVE RUN OUT OF BODDINGTONS AND HIMSELF IS NOT ONE BIT PLEASED ABOUT THAT. AGAIN POOR SUDNEY GETS THE BLAME.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you 😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

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