#where i come from 'I tolerate you' is a very sincere declaration of love and everlasting friendship

[emma-d-klutz]

Service industry in the south still leaves me completely flustered and lost, though at least it doesn't creep me out the way it did when I first moved here. Five years progress. The waitress is just calling me "babe" and "my love" so casually like MA'AM I know you are just doing your job and listening to my egg order I'm already going to tip more than 20% if you'll just please stop talking like I'm your long lost soul mate reunited after the war I am jumping out of my skin here

[the-witty-pen-name]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Loki x Reader (f) 

Valentine’s Day with the God of Mischief 

Based on suggestion by: @squadleaderchase​

A/N: Thank you so much for the suggestion! I loved writing this, it was so much fun! 

Happy Valentine’s Day y’all!

There is also a gender neutral version of this fic, and will be posted shortly after this one! Read it here! 

I recommend to putting on Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis towards the end just for that finishing touch! 

Summary: When Loki learns about the traditions of Valentine’s Day, he asks you to be his Valentine- and reluctantly takes advice from Steve Rogers. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none; just fluff 

“Can’t Midgardians have a holiday that doesn’t involve such a grotesque display of… red?” Loki asks walking into the living room of the Avengers compound. Loki arrived at the compound a few weeks before Christmas and so far, he’s experienced two Earth holidays: Christmas and New Year’s. Of course, Tony had picked the theme for both parties to be elaborately red and gold- he claimed the fact that it matched his suit was merely a coincidence.

“Just wait until next month,” you reply casually, your eyes not leaving the brief you were reading while you sat cozied up in one of the large armchairs. “I think you’ll like St. Patrick’s Day much more… color scheme wise at least.”

Loki looked up curiously at the hearts of all shades of red and pink Natasha had hung up to decorate the Avengers’ living quarters. She had gone to visit Clint’s family and his kids spent hours making Valentines and decorations out of construction paper and glitter. Loki looked almost puzzled at the lopsided hearts that hung from the ceiling on transparent line so they looked like they floated mid-air.

“Perhaps I might,” he mumbled to himself, the lovesick aura of his surroundings making him slightly disgusted. “Though I suppose I find your rituals as bizarre as you’d find on Asgard.”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled in response to his thinking out loud. It was rare that the compound would be this quiet. It was a Friday evening and in the middle of a team meeting earlier today, Tony declared exhaustedly that everyone needs to start the weekend early and dismissed everyone despite Steve’s protests. You weren’t sure where everyone else went and you didn’t particularly care- enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You didn’t mind Loki’s company. He was a little aloof but overall, you found him more to be misunderstood than anything else. He wasn’t like Thor and sure, he had a very trouble ridden past to downplay it- but he’s confided in you all it wasn’t entirely his doing. Out of everyone living at the compound, he probably had grown the closest to you, or as close as Loki would allow himself to be to someone.

“What even is this holiday?” Loki asked, pulling his attention from the decorations to where you sat, binder in your lap. You looked up and closed the brief, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of where you sat.

“Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” you say looking back over to him, meeting his eyes. “I mean overtime the traditions and how we celebrate have changed but it’s originally the day meant to honor St. Valentine and commemorate his death. There’s a lot more to it than that and there’s all different of different origins, but now it’s more like a day where you celebrate love, because he was the patron Saint of Love.”

Loki nods, liking the idea of this holiday much more than New Years already. He didn’t mind Christmas, but the elaborate parties made everything not very appealing to him. You can’t blame the god for not having a good time at parties where every guest fears him or hates him. He walks over and takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs. He was intrigued enough to continue the conversation and ask you more questions. “What are the traditions?” He asks curiously.

“Traditionally, you would ask someone to be your Valentine, and that’s the person you want to spend the day with,” you answer with a small shrug, trying to explain a holiday you’ve never had to explain before. “Some people have it easy and they ask their significant other, and if you don’t have one, you ask someone you’re romantically interested in to be your Valentine. Then you give each other gifts, like chocolates or flowers, anything really that’s romantic and you go out on a date, like a nice dinner but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the basic gist.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” Loki said, mulling over your explanation. “You’ve been helpful, as always. Tell me, who’s your Valentine?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. The only time you really celebrated was when you had been with someone. You’d never really participated otherwise. You planned to just spend the night alone or with Nat if she also didn’t have plans and probably watch a movie- most definitely Pride and Prejudice.

“Shame,” Loki said with a tsk. “Perhaps, if you would be interested, you could be my Valentine?”

“Really?” you ask, honestly surprised.

“I actually like the idea of the day,” Loki shrugged. “And I don’t know many people, people seem to hate me on this planet- no idea as to why. You’ve always been kind to me, and you are the most tolerable person I’ve encountered on this planet.”

“That’s oddly very kind of you,” you say with a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiments. Um, yes. I’d be happy to be your Valentine.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Splendid. I’ll ask Thor to help me plan something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smile, picking up your paperwork again as Loki heads off to find his brother.

***

“Brother,” Thor’s voice echoed in the training room. “Spar with me?”

“As much as I would love to,” Loki said sarcastically, “I need your help with something I need to plan.” Loki walked over to the side of the mat where Thor had been training with Captain Rogers.

“Plan what?” Captain Rogers asked curiously. It was an innocent enough question but Loki took it as Rogers insinuating his distrust in him. Of course, Loki can’t blame the man but it did rub him the wrong way.

“If you must know Captain Rogers, I’m making plans for this upcoming Valentine’s Day,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure since you have quite the active love life recently, your words of wisdom are probably of infinite value.”

“You can learn a thing or two from me,” Steve retorted as he put the punching bag beck into place. “But I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage without you,” Loki scoffed. He turned his attention back to his brother. “I need help to determine where I should take (y/n) and what I should get her.”

“(y/n) agreed to this?” Thor asks, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Rogers kept his mouth shut, deciding to see where this conversation will go before

“Yes, brother. I asked her to be my Valentine as stated by tradition and she said yes.”

“Ah! Good for you, brother!” Thor exclaimed, happily. “I’m glad you’re immersing yourself in the Midgard culture.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki waved him off, “Now, please, tell me what I should do.”

“I’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day,” Thor says with a shrug and a sympathetic look. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore the culture. Every time I’m on this planet I’m a little busy preventing its destruction. Perhaps Rogers can help you?”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. He avoided Rogers as he knew the man had such a smug look on his face. Loki refused to give him the satisfaction. However, he realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. Rogers not only knew what to do, but he was also close friends with you. He quickly realized if he wanted to celebrate with you properly, he’d need to rely on the infamous super soldier.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said with a charismatic smile, turning back to the man. “I wholeheartedly apologize for my lack of… social niceties. If you’d be willing to help me, to ensure your dear friend enjoys her holiday, I would be sincerely grateful.”

“Only because of (y/n),” Rogers says skeptically, waving a finger at Loki. “She deserves to enjoy her time and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you screw up her evening.”

“What a loyal friend.”

Years later, the Avengers would still talk about the fact Loki cared about you so much, he sought out advice from Captain America and Thor. And as Captain America said, he helped Loki with every last detail and Steve never let Loki forget it.

***

Loki had told you that he’d come to your room to get you at 6 o’clock Sunday evening. He wore clothes he had picked out, black dress pants, a white button-down shirt and shiny, black dress shoes. He had kept the last button of the shirt unbuttoned and he had rolled the sleeves up, a styling tip he had gotten from Thor. He had his long hair gelled back and tamed, ignoring Captain Roger’s horrible suggestion for a haircut. He felt very weird not wearing any green, but he took the advice he was given on his ensemble.

You were just putting on your heels when he knocked at your door Sunday promptly at 6pm. Of course, Loki would be very punctual. You gave yourself one more quick once more in the mirror in your room before heading to answer the door.

You had on a pair of dark green heels that perfectly matched your dress. You also layered over the outfit a suede brown jacket, that complimented the jewel tone of the dress and shoes nicely. You kept your appearance simple, sticking to how you usually styled your hair. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly opened the door, your jacket and bag both in hand.

“Wow,” you say with a grin, when you take in Loki’s appearance. “You look very nice.”

“You look stunning,” Loki said, his eyes widening, taking in your appearance. The compliment made you have butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with false confidence. Underneath, you were a nervous wreck as you took the arm that he extended to you.

“So,” Loki began to walk down the hallway with you. “Apparently, this planet has something called reservations, and anyone who tries to get one a few days before Valentine’s Day is a “moron,” according to a very rude young man I had the pleasure of speaking with- the first time using a phone too on top of that. So, I hope you don’t mind if the evening is a little… makeshift.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you reassure him. You feel him relax slightly. You found how hard he was trying so endearing.

Where else did he bring you but just down the hall to the living room. At night with the lights dimmed, combined with Natasha’s homemade decorations, it actually looked quite beautiful. He had decorated with an eclectic array of candles as well that covered most surfaces of the room. It also looked like he had swiped every throw pillow in the whole compound and had them arranged the coffee table in the center of the room.

“Did you do all of this?” You ask in awe.

“Yes,” he replied, just watching you. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I had to make my own version of advice I received,” he disclosed to you. You sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table, you kicked off your heels and he did the same with his shoes. “Captain Rogers said- and I’m trying my best to quote verbatim, ‘You need to show a girl a good time. You gotta take her to dinner and dancing.’” He even mimicked Steve’s voice perfectly. It made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you subjected yourself to Steve for me, I’m touched,” you smiled. “I mean I love Steve,” you continue, “But I can’t imagine you too being best friends anytime soon.”

“No, I suppose we probably won’t be,” Loki chuckles.

“I hate to point it out,” you continue, “but I think you missed both the dinner part and the dancing part of that plan.” Loki smirked and when you blinked, he transformed the whole room.

“Did I?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised. You gasp, looking around the room you were now in. You knew it was an illusion, but it felt very real. The atmosphere, the breeze coming in from the large bay windows that weren’t there before. The coffee table now a table now one of many dining tables in an incredibly high-end restaurant. The table had food, and a bottle of wine. You were stunned. There was a live band and other couples in other tables and out on the dancefloor.

“Loki?” You exclaimed, looking around at your new surroundings. It was amazing. You couldn’t believe the magic right before your eyes. Of course, you knew it was just one of his tricks, but it felt so incredibly real. You picked up your fork and took a bite of the food in front of you. It was incredible, you questioned if you were even eating.

“It’s real,” Loki said, like he could read your mind. Honestly, he had only just anticipated your next question. “I made it. Well, I made it with Friday’s supervision.”

“It’s fantastic! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just for me.”

“Sweetheart, you are very much worth it- worth much more than this,” he responded casually, throwing in the term of endearment to see how you’d react. He caught the way it made you smile.

You continued to talk for a little while, and shared stories. You were worried that compared to his life on Asgard, he’d find your stories incredibly boring and mundane. It seemed to be the opposite. His attention was only on you and he held on to every word you said. He created this elaborate setting just to keep you the center of his attention.

“Should we dance?” He asks suddenly, a glimmer in his eye. You looked down apprehensively.

“I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to insist.

“Do you actually not want to dance, darling? Because if so, I will not bring it up again,” he says earnestly, “But, if you’re saying no because you’re afraid I’m going to judge you, I honestly can promise you I would never dream of doing so.”

You give it another moment to ponder over his words. You were taken aback at how well he seemed to know how you were thinking. You let out a sigh of defeat, and smile. “I’d love to,” you reply.

He stands up and offers you his hand. His smile is enough to make you weak at the knees. You take his hand and he leads you over to the dancefloor as the band starts playing its next song. “Does that singer sound like Elvis?” You ask, the small glitch in the illusion throwing you off for only a moment.

“I don’t know who that is,” Loki says with a laugh. He pulls you in close and rests one hand on the small of your back and the other grasps your hand close. You wrap your other arm around his shoulder. You are both pressed up incredibly close to one another. You rest your head on his chest comfortably, and you can’t see how much the action makes his whole face go red. Guiding your movements together, it mostly just swaying in place. The steps were small, and with the music playing for the two of you.

“This place is incredible,” you sigh happily looking up at him. “But I think I liked the first place a little better.”

He nodded in agreement and you got to watch a green hue encompass the walls of the restaurant as they almost melted away, and everything around the two of you just fade away. The sconces on the walls, revealed themselves to be the candles that cluttered the living room and the couples evaporated with the green mist. The table you had both sat at, turned back to the coffee table but the empty plates remained. The elaborate statues that surrounded the room turned into the furniture you knew well, and then the live band faded away to reveal Steve’s record player indeed playing a 45 of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

When the room finished revealing its true appearance to you, you laid your head back on Loki’s chest and mumbled that now it was perfect. He smiled to himself, thinking about how without a doubt in his mind, Valentine’s Day is his absolute favorite holiday on Midgard. He now couldn’t believe this reality was real. If he wasn’t holding you, he’d pinch himself. You were here, with him, in his arms, dancing in the middle of the living room on this godforsaken planet.

“(y/n)?” he whispered softly as the song was coming to an end.

“Mhmm?” You responded, your eyes closed, really just basking in the feeling of being so close to him and the smell of his cologne.

“Will be mine?” He asks carefully, remembering the phrase from Captain Roger’s advice. That phrase apparently being very important if today went well and he wanted to ask you to “go steady.” You chuckled softly, hearing Steve’s influence in the phrase.

“I would love to,” you say with a shy smile looking back up to him. He beams, incredibly happy you said yes. Swept up in his emotions, he swiftly leans down and presses his lips to yours capturing them in a passionate first kiss.

“Oh gross!” You hear someone exclaim, making you both pull away. It’s Tony- who was currently holding his side in pain as Pepper elbowed him in the side.

“You really had to do that?” she chastised him, rolling her eyes and giving an apologetic look to you and Loki before pushing Tony down the hallway to give you both your moment back, as sullied as it had become thanks to Tony.

“I’m so sorry,” she said embarrassed by his outburst, ushering him out as quickly as possible.

Loki turns his head back to you, immediately after they are out of view. “Where were we, darling?” He smirks, pulling you in for another kiss.

[caspercryptid]

i would do anything for more of the dr. cheshire x angel/grace content i'm ngl i was hooked by ur mini fic

In reference to this piece of original fiction

A Supervillain crashing her hero's wedding, anyone?

-claps- so I polyam-ed this one up a little but it's still very... I don't have a ship name for his two. Helace? Changel? that's awful. Anyway. Helen x Grace, Cheshire x Angel.

CWs: Murder Discussions.

___

Dr. Cheshire has probably gone too far this time.

Not just in the sense that there were lines she isn’t supposed to cross— she was no stranger to lines she isn’t supposed to cross, much like moral event horizons, she likes to be aware of where they are so she can wave as she barrels past, pop a proverbial wheelie. In the more informal parlance.... Fuck ‘em.

But there are rules. She understands rules. She understands the rules of the physical universe, the laws of gravity and the rules of mathematical certainty, the physical limitations of a body in the face of extreme heat, which was really somewhere in this particular mathematical proof, the fact that the human body cannot tolerate being set on fire very well, the fact that she does, in fact, still have a human body, despite all her efforts to the contrary. She throws up a table and ducks another fireball and realizes that, actually, wedding crashing was vastly overrated. This was not how this was supposed to go. This was supposed to be a kidnapping. Grace was supposed to be marrying some random asshole, and she was supposed to sweep in, overwhelm them, because she’s Dr. Goddamn Cheshire, this should have been easy, but no, apparently Grace has swapped out the asshole she had at home for a woman Chess vaguely.... recognizes.

But that’s ridiculous, so she pushes the thought back down.

Plan. This is time to plan. Does she run? She should probably run, because Grace’s new wife is apparently far more capable than Chess had realized, and as much as she wants to declare herself willing to fight for Grace’s favor, she is aware of the fact that she’s in the presence of a far superior enemy. And then there’s a blinding flash, and when Chess blinks the light from her eyes, Grace is standing in front of her, looking... extremely unamused.

Her hair is pinned up in a pile on her head with a few loose strands in front of her ears, her green eyes narrowed, a...beautiful shimmering white dress draping off her shoulders, and about ten sets of fiery wings off her back, blinding red, orange, yellow, blue. She’s holding a bouquet.

“Chess.” She seethes, exasperated, looking really and truly angry in a way that Dr. Cheshire had never seen her, and Chess opens her mouth, hoping she has a one-liner on standby from her prepared speech, but apparently she doesn’t, because what comes out of it is—

“Helen.”

Grace stops. Squints at her. Does not punch her, so she takes that as encouragement to continue, face as red as her hair.

“I think I’m going to go by Helen.”

“Helen.” Grace says, and ah. Okay. Telling Grace her name so Grace could say it. Is not helping matters. Grace searches her expression, for a second, and then she reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose, and her wings disappear again. She looks... more human, now, in the dress, and Helen feels something very like guilt that she sincerely hopes against hope is just indigestion.

“What’d they do?”

“What are you doing here, Helen?” Grace asks.

“—Though I’d try my hand at the I object. It always goes great in the movies.” Helen winces at the force of Grace’s glare, tries it again. “You weren’t there. I’ve killed like three more people.”

“—ordered civilian bombings.”

“Those don’t count as people. Why are you really here, Helen?”

“Because—”

Because i’m in love with you.

“I don’t know.”

Dammit, Helen!

Grace looks unconvinced by that, and Helen braces herself.

“—What’s she like?” she asks. “Does she make you happy?”

Grace blinks, surprised, and then softens. “She makes me happy. She’s— serious. Deadpan, but funny when she’s in a good mood. Beautiful when she isn’t smiling, stunning when she does, half because it’s so damn rare.” Grace hikes up her dress and kneels in front of Helen, folding her arms across her knees. Helen notes, distantly, that she’s wearing brown leather boots under that dress.

“She’s a lot like you, actually.”

Helen feels her heart stop, looking back up at Grace. She doesn’t know what her facial expression is doing. Grace meets her eyes.

“Look.” She says. “I’m going to marry Laurie today. Because I love her. But— maybe if you weren’t. A completely murderous maniac. I’d like to have you around.”

Helen feels like a scolded kid again, but she swallows.

She straightens, letting her dress drop over her boots again, and Helen feels like she’s been let in on a secret as Grace smiles.

“And maybe if you can avoid any more fighting, you can stay for the cake.”

“—could do.” She says.

Grace offers her a hand.

Helen swallows her heart, and her pride, and takes it.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Home

Feeling alone on your birthday? Check. Drinking too much to hide those feelings? Check. Accidentally both yelling at and declaring your feelings for Mando? Check. Oops.

Din Djarin x female reader

It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago, and the day wasn’t optimal, so this little idea formed. I'd be super stoked if you let me know what you think. :)

Word count: 5043

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It was your birthday. A day for eating and drinking and celebrating with friends and family, but you had neither. Still, the day had been okay, you supposed, but you couldn't shake off the loneliness and sadness that accompanied it. When you were younger, you always looked forward to the day, and even during the war your parents managed to scrounge up a celebration of sorts.

But that was years ago. Now your friends were gone, your parents were gone, hell, even your home planet was gone, and your birthday served only as a bittersweet reminder, reduced to longing, heartache, and waiting for the inevitable end.

The music was loud enough that it drowned out the other patrons in the bar, allowing you to drink and wallow in self-pity in peace, just like you had planned, and you were deep enough in the bottle that the mental wall that protected your emotions started crumbling.

Being miserable at home was bad enough, and you were seriously starting to regret the decision to even go outside today. Somehow the loneliness punched you in the head once the third glass was empty and you noticed how crowded the bar was. No one else seemed to be alone.

Your circle of friends had never been large, and it became even smaller during the war. Then it slowly thinned as people got older; getting jobs in transport, or starting families. Some just moved away. Eventually it became harder to keep in touch. Life. Life was what happened.

You sniffed into your glass, coughing a little when the fumes hit the back of your nose. There was still one friend, though. But he wasn't in town at the moment. He wasn't even on the planet.

Yeah, the music was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the thoughts that popped into your head. You had sort of promised yourself that you wouldn't think about Mando tonight, but as with all such promises, Brain was a big, fat liar.

As the hours ticked by, his face, well, helmet, showed up in your mind over and over, no matter how many times you shoved him down. Then his voice echoed in your ears; that soft, yet commanding voice that sent shivers down your spine. And his laugh… quiet sometimes, but always sincere. Fuck, you missed him so much! A new lump caught in your throat, and you swallowed hard and traced a line through the condensation on your glass.

How long had it been? He left right before your last birthday, you knew he had a job to do, but he promised to come visit again when he had earned enough money to take a break.

Weeks turned to months. Nothing unusual there, but when the year mark approached, you grew worried. You were always worried, to be honest, considering his line of work, but he had never been gone this long without so much as a message before.

"Well, happy birthday to me," you muttered with a sigh and drained the glass, wincing as the liquid burned down your throat, but the numbness that followed spread over you like a blanket. “Hey Briswig!” You waved your glass in his general direction. “Help me out, will ya?”

The bartender put down his towel, picked up a bottle. and sauntered over to you. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” He asked and poured a generous amount into your glass.

Shaking your head vigorously, you almost fell off the stool. “Nooooo! Not enough, I think you mean.”

Briswig smiled, then shook his head. “I can barely understand what you’re saying. It’s too early to be this wasted, Y/N. Shouldn’t you be at work or something? Why are you even here?”

“Din’t you know? ‘S my birthday.”

"It is? Happy birthday!" He cocked his head a bit and frowned. "You've been drinking alone all day." It was innocent enough, but it stung more than you wanted to admit.

You wafted him away and grimaced. "So? Not everybody is a social champ. Took the day off to drown my sorrows. See?" Lifting the glass again, you saluted him and took a big gulp. Most of the liquid went down the wrong pipe, and you coughed hard. The alcohol stung in your nose.

Handing you a napkin, Briswig patted your arm. “You don’t have to drink alone, you know.”

Rolling your eyes, you emptied the rest of the glass in one go and used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe your mouth. “Well, I would if I had any friends. All my friends are dead.” Or not even on the planet, you added in your head. “Do you know how hard it is to make new friends when you’re an adult? And I’m not very good at it in the first place.”

Briswig grimaced. “Go home, Y/N. You’ve had more than enough. Go home and sleep. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You answered with a small pout. “Are you kicking me out? On my birthday?”

He smiled and left the bar to collect glasses. “You know what? Yes, yes I am. It’s not healthy wallowing like you do right now. Take an early night, get the day over with faster, right? Go home. Or do I have to call the bouncer on you?”

Glancing over at the burly trandoshan by the door, you sighed in defeat and hopped off the stool, almost knocking it over and bumping into the bartender. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going." You blew a raspberry and waved dismissively at him.

He chuckled and stepped aside so you could pass safely. You still stumbled. "You'll feel better tomorrow," he repeated, way too cheerfully for your taste.

"Bah!"

"See you next week, Y/N."

"Screw you!" And you meant it. He had come between you and your alcohol. For all you cared he could jump into a sarlacc-pit.

"I know you love me."

"Only because you provide me with my preferred poison, Briswig."

"Sleep tight."

The afternoon breeze was pleasant. It was still early enough in the year that the temperatures were tolerable, and the summer humidity hadn't kicked in just yet.

You sighed and snorted at the same time. How dared the day be so likeable? One day, you thought, you would jump on board one of those spaceships, travel the universe, find the one responsible for it all, and then punch them in the face. Or yell at them. Or at least hand them a strongly worded letter. You had never been fond of confrontations.

The sudden rush of air from the door pushed you forward, forcing you to sidestep. A stroke of luck and unexpected reflexes stopped your face from impacting with the wall, though your hands stung from the scrapes on you palm.

"Oh. Heh. Sorry. Din't see y' there." The words stumbled out of your mouth, and you looked at the wall in front of you and trying to make sense of it. "Well, don't let me interrupt." You patted the red brick and turned the other way, only to smack your head on a shiny breastplate. "'Pologies. Nice armour." You thought for a second. "I knew an armour once. He was nice too." You closed your eyes and pictured Mando in your mind. "I'd kick his butt," you muttered with a scowl, "if I could just catch him. Give him a few choice words for leaving me alone, that fucker. You understand, don't you?"

The armour started to say something, but you cut it off.

"He better come back soon." You fought to focus. It was harder than you anticipated. You weren't that drunk, were you? Or at least, you hadn't been when you'd been seated at the bar. Seated. Oh. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, don't suppose you've seen a Mandalorian sneaking around? I, I don't mean jus' any Mandalorian, you know." The eyes looking back at you from the shiny armour-mirror-thing glittered as you tapped the hard surface. "I mean my Mandalorian."

The armour didn't respond.

"You'd like him," you continued, not noticing the way the helmet tilted when you spoke, or how it chuckled when you interrupted every time they tried to speak. "He’s kind and funny and so soft on the inside -“ Putting a finger to your lips, you smiled conspiratorially. “Shhh… don’t tell ‘im that I said that. He likes people to think he’s hard.” The smile turned dopey. “He is hard.  Could probably take anyone in a fight. He’s a total badass. Ooh, his ass. That’s a fine ass.”

"My Mandalorian is fantabulous," you said, grinning to hide the lump in your throat. If the waterworks started now, you wouldn't have the sober strength to stop. "Absolutely marvelsome. And he always makes me smile, you know. He’s perfect. I hate him. Makes me feel like I can fly."

A loud sigh escaped you, and you blinked one eye at the time. "Damn that man. Off on his adventures and leaving me behind like that. Look at this place. It's a dump! If I could, I'd jump on a spaceship and never ever come back." The thought of Mando stung in your heart. "I love him, y'know," you muttered to the breastplate. "Stupid Mando with his stupid, shiny armour." You hiccoughed a sob and swallowed. "I miss 'im." Blinking again, you stepped sideways to let the stranger pass, and almost stumbled into a trash bin. "Well, it's nice to meet you, armour."

"Y/N…" The voice showed a mix of amusement and something else you definitely were too drunk to recognise.

But hearing your own name immediately shut you up. For a moment the voice was just a disembodied memory, so familiar, but you just couldn't figure it out. Slowly, you looked around, before finally lifting your eyes. "Mando!" A wide smile spread over your face. "Where did you come from? I didn't see you, there."

It was difficult to decipher him, what with the armour and all, and even more so now you had all but inhaled Briswig's entire collection of fine, fine alcohol, but he looked happy to see you. You hoped he looked happy to see you.

Taking his gloved hand, using it to pull yourself closer, you finally put your arms around him, snuggling his hard shell, though in your state it didn't feel hard at all.

"I missed you," you mumbled into his pauldron, the sound of your voice somewhat muffled by the metal.

He squeezed you tight with one arm, leaning his head against yours. "Yeah, me too."

Forcing yourself to let go, you still lingered with your hand on his arm. "Hm? Shall we go for a walk? The suns don't set for a while yet. Or better: do you have anything to drink?"

"You think you should have any more now?" he asked as you crashed into the bin again. The only reason you didn't tumble over it and land on your butt was because he still held onto you.

"Yeah! Duh!"

He shook his head. "Let’s get you to bed.”

“But the suns are still up.” Confusion fizzed in your head. It was too early to sleep.

“I know, but I think you need some rest. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” You pulled back a little bit.

"Positive," Mando said, offering his arm as support. "You're so drunk you can barely stand. Can't have you starting a fight with the wall."

"What? Why? What did it say about me?" You balled your fist, tugging out of his grip to punch the bricks.

"Don't worry about it." He laughed quietly. "Come on." He took you gently by the elbow, leading you through the streets, making sure you wouldn’t fall and hurt yourself. Based on the collision with the trash can, there were already bruises forming on your thighs.

Being next to Mando was the only thing that made the day tolerable. You cherished the touch of his hand on your elbow, grinning stupidly, not quite aware of your surroundings, but still awake enough that you could account for yourself, and try to keep a conversation.  Leaning heavily on him, you snuggled into his side. You could stay like this forever. “Mando. My Mando,” you muttered with a stupid grin. It wasn’t strictly true, but you were too drunk to care.

“Din. My name is Din,” he replied quietly.

You stopped abruptly. "Whoa!" It took a few seconds for your brain to unscramble. “Your name is Din.” Pause. You hiccoughed. “‘S pretty.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Din answered.

You took his arm again, an extra sway in your step. “Din. My Din,” you muttered, clearly trying to be quiet enough that he didn’t hear it. He did.

Though the ship no longer held the same feeling of home for Din - kriff, he missed the Crest - it was closer than the flat you called home. To be honest he wasn’t even sure if you even lived there anymore, and you weren’t providing answers; mumbling and humming happily. You were a happy drunk. Din smiled under his helmet. He should have come back long ago and whisked you away.

To be honest, he didn’t catch more than half of what you said, you were too intoxicated to make much sense, and most came out as gibberish anyway. But he DID catch the part where you said you missed him, and you had mumbled something about his stupid armour and his stupid butt, and he couldn’t ignore the feeling of elation that coursed through him.

Had you been sober, well, more sober, he would’ve told you how he felt, but for now he was more concerned with keeping you safe. There would be a day tomorrow too.

The ramp creaked and clanked heavily when it hit the ground.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you protested once you processed the sight, squinting at the entrance. “This isn’t the Crest?”

Din shook his head and looked at the new ship. It was shinier, newer, probably better, but it didn’t have the personality. “I lost it,” he replied bitterly. He still felt that pang of sadness every time the old ship was mentioned. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep this one yet.”

You patted the dusty exterior and nodded. “You should. Feels sturdy, ummm, keep you safe.”

He smiled a half smile. You seemed to approve. Maybe he could get used to the new ship after all.  

“You can sleep in here,” he said, pointing with his free arm to a narrow alcove when you had made your way through the ship and into the private quarters.

“Noooo…” you sing-song protested. “It’s still light. An’m not tired.”

“Say that to your droopy eyelids,” he retorted. “And it’s dark in here; who cares what it’s like outside anyway.”

He had a point. And you were tired. Almost immediately, once you admitted that fact to yourself, you started swaying. Din had to grip you tighter to keep you from falling nose first to the floor.  It was so hard to stay awake, even though you fought with all you had. The yawn that followed almost split your face in two. “Mmmm…”

“At least wait until you’re lying down,” Din grunted, thrown a bit off-kilter by your sudden deadweight. He hoisted you up to get a better grip so he could guide you to the bed. It was more dragging than walking, since you had apparently decided to sleep standing up.

“Come on, my drunk one. Let’s get you into bed, alright?” The only answer he got was a quiet, drawn-out hum that he interpreted as a yes, more out of necessity than anything else.

He lowered you down on the edge of the small sleeping alcove, and you sat - for a whole three seconds, before flopping backwards, landing with your head in the middle of the mattress and your legs still on the floor. Moments later you were snoring lightly.

Din looked at you with a gentle smile on his lips. You looked serene, like a sleeping angel, but that crooked angle of your neck couldn’t be comfortable. He’d fallen asleep many awkward places when he needed to, but waking up was always a stiff and painful experience.

So he grabbed your legs and tried to slide you onto the bed. No good. Your body twisted like a noodle. “Dank farrik! A little cooperation would be good,” he muttered, warranting a small sigh of content from you, almost making him forget what he was doing.

“Right. So…” He shook himself and cleared his throat. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

Reaching over you, he hooked his arms under yours and pulled. Lacking the leverage, he slipped and almost landed on top of you, only just managing to get a hand loose in time to catch himself, and smacking his head on the wall in the process. The sound reverberated in his helmet, and the fact that you didn’t even react made him a bit worried.  He would definitely have to check on you during the night.

What now? There was only one possibility left, and the thought sent heat to the back of his neck. The first attempt was fruitless. His helmet scraped against the low ceiling, and the bulkiness of his armour restricted his movement too much. With a jolt to his stomach, he realised that he would have to remove it. Was he ready for that? Maybe. After all, you were sleeping, and - if things went the way he had planned, he would soon show you his face anyway. But it was a big step. He thought for a second; one that he was willing to take for the sake of your comfort.

Returning to a dark corner, he began unfastening the clasps that fixed his breastplate in place. Then his arms and legs. Only when all the other armour were gone, leaving him feeling bare and vulnerable, he lifted his helmet off and placed it in one of the small wall niches. It fit perfectly.

Inhaling deeply, then exhaling, he stepped into the light again. You were still sleeping, and seeing you with his own eyes instead of through the visor almost brought him to his knees. He knew then, that unless you told him to, he would never have the strength to leave you again.

Suddenly he was struck by guilt. Could he really offer to take you away, to remove you from the safety and calm of having your own place? Wouldn’t he be ripping your roots right from the soil? A life on board the ship, with him, would be no easy life.

But hadn’t you, in your drunkenness, told him that this planet felt more like a prison than a home? The Crest had been his home once. Maybe, with you at his side, this ship could become home too.

Din gently climbed into the alcove, positioning himself with his knees on either side of your hips, careful to not touch you more than necessary. This way he had enough room, and enough strength to pull your drunken body all the way in.

Satisfied that you weren’t lying crooked anymore, he scooted out and off the bed. He then pulled off your boots and tucked the blanket securely around you.

With a sudden ache in his heart, he was reminded of Grogu, but quickly told himself that leaving the kid with the Jedi was for the best. Still, he was going to make damn sure he didn’t lose you too. With a final pat on your knee, he switched off the light and left you to sleep.

_______________________________________________________________

Some mudhorn was stomping on your head when you woke up. "Hnnnggg… I’m definitely dying. And if not, someone better hurry up and make it happen!” You weren’t ready to get out of bed yet, but it wasn’t a very comfortable position, and your tongue felt drier than the sand dunes on Tatooine. You muttered a curse and tried to turn over on your side, only to face the wall too quickly. You cursed your inexplicable ability to curl up in the smallest of corners in your sleep. Slowly, ignoring the creaking joints, you unfurled and stretched.

"Hey,” a gentle voice said from somewhere up above you.

Okay, so you weren't alone. That was… unusual. You opened your eyes and almost choked on your tongue.

Mando was there. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Not particularly,” you croaked, wiping sleep crust from your eyes. To be honest you weren't a hundred percent sure he wasn't some alcohol fuelled hallucination.

“Well, here.” He handed you a bowl and a spoon.

The bowl was hot, and the contents steaming, and it smelled better than most space rations you’d seen before. To be honest, you were starving; craving those delicious carbohydrates to chase the alcohol out of your system.

And, when your brain finally started working again, you noticed that he wasn’t wearing a full armour. Helmet, of course, but other than that, only a soft pair of trousers and a thin shirt.  If you didn’t know better, you would say he had just gotten out of bed. But then… where were you?

Squinting, you peered around the room. A soft mattress, comfy blankets, a grey metal wall that was dotted with rust and dust. The light was dim, but warm. This wasn't home. And it wasn't the Crest.

Din coughed, you thought, a bit awkwardly, but as long as he was there, he could be as awkward as he wanted. “How’s the hangover?”

“Massive.”

“Eat.” He nodded to the bowl. "And drink this. It'll help."

You noticed the bottle in his hands. Putting the food down on the mattress, careful to not spill a drop, you took the bottle with a grateful smile. The cool liquid ran down your throat with such deliciousness that you had to bite down a moan. “Thank you.” You shook the bottle. It was empty.

“So, drinking alone, huh? That can’t be good for you.” He sat down on a crate.

You chuckled darkly and blew on the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. It was good. “Heh, well… who else would I be drinking with? You weren't there to keep me in check.".

Mando didn't say anything, he just watched as you ate.

You wished you knew how disappointed he looked underneath that helmet. When he wasn't talking, it was impossible to gauge the level of your humiliation. "Great." You squeezed your eyes shut and grimaced, preparing yourself for the mental blow, then you opened one eye and looked up at him. "What did I do? Please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid yesterday!” You searched your memory, jumping over huge, black holes, feeling more anxious with each void you passed.

“You didn’t. Well, you did try to start a fight with a wall, but that was partly my fault, I guess. And you talked a lot. Not that I understood all of it, you were pretty wasted. Hard to interpret, too.” He laughed loudly.

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “Really? Crap! Listen, Mando -“

“I told you: my name is Din.”

Your brain stopped for a second. “…your name is Din.”

“Funny. That’s the same thing you said yesterday.” There was amusement in his voice.

Heat crept up your neck and blossomed around your ears. “Just unexpected, is all.” You briefly wondered about the implications of this, but decided to worry about that later. Your head hurt too much to think. “I like it. It’s a good name. Suits you.”

“Thanks.” Din grinned. You were never one to make a big deal of something. He liked that. "I'll let you freshen up. The bathroom is down the passageway and to the right. I’ve filled the freshwater tanks, so use what you need. I’ll be in the cockpit.”

“Thank you.” The food was still warm, and it filled your stomach nicely. That, combined with the water, your headache had receded to a dull thumping just behind your eyes. Bearable.

________________________________________________________________

Clean and feeling a thousand times better, you climbed the ladder to the cockpit, eager to hang out with Din - you couldn’t believe he told you his name! - before he had to fly off to his next job.

“Now it’s a good morning,” you said as a greeting after knocking to let him know you were there.

Din nodded. He was waiting for you, comfortably sprawled in the pilot seat, and gestured for you to sit when you remained by the door.

"So –" you started.

"Listen –" Din said at the same time.

"Go ahead."

“I…” He hesitated, suddenly uncertain how to proceed. “I should’ve come back much sooner. But the job… things… got in the way. I’ve… This past year has been…”

You blinked. This was unexpected. Your stomach tickled; a small hope blossomed in your chest. The way he danced around what he really wanted to say: you knew Din. He either had some really bad news, or… Your cheeks twitched, but you forced yourself to be calm.

“The moment I jumped into hyperspace, I realised that I didn’t want to leave.” He paused again, suddenly convinced he’d imagined all the things you said the day before. “I -“

You put your hand on his. “I didn’t want you to leave either.”

Din sat back. “I was…” he began, rubbing the back of his neck and searching for words. “Things happened. I had planned on returning after the job, but then…”

“Life happened”, you offered, and he nodded.

“Yeah. I needed more money, one job followed the other, and suddenly I had a responsibility other than myself.”

Your heart sank, feeling the weight of what he was saying. He’d found someone. Settled down. “Congratulations,” you said, but you didn’t really mean it.

“What?”

“You have a family now."

“A foundling. For a while we were a clan of two. But he couldn’t stay with me. This isn't a life for a kid. I was tasked with bringing him to his own people. And I did. He's… he's with someone who can train him now." His voice cracked and he swallowed hard.

Utter heartbreak radiated from him. You reached for him, but changed your mind, placing your hand awkwardly on your knee.

Din sighed. He needed to do this, now. The short rush of air from the release of his helmet rang in his ears. Keeping his eyes on you while he lifted it, he held his breath - afraid for your reaction.

The moment you realised what Din was doing, all air left your lungs. How often had you not imagined him without his armour, without the protective barrier between him and the world? Pictured his mouth, his eyes, how his face must shine when he laughed… Mandalorians simply did not remove their helmets, and if they did, they could never put it back on, and now he was letting you see him.

“…Din.” Your voice was a gentle warning.

He stopped mid-movement; chin just visible under the bottom edge.

You continued before he could say anything. “I’ve wanted to see you since the day we met. But please don’t break your creed for me. I’m not worth it.”

“I’m not,” he said, voice raw and emotional. “I want to look at you with my own eyes. Please. There is so much I’ve learned since… and this…” He lifted the helmet off, revealing his face to you with a smile and glistening eyes. “You areworth it.”

Never in a million years had you imagined how it would feel. His face was so gentle. Before you could stop yourself, you put your hand on his cheek. The rough stubbles tickled, but the skin was soft underneath, and the warmth spread through your body.

Din leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. "I have so much to tell you." He opened his eyes again. They were an abyss, and you felt yourself drowning.

Suddenly aware of yourself, your hand dropped back into your lap. "I have all the time in the world." It was barely a whisper, but you both heard the true meaning as if it was shouted. I'm with you to the edge of the universe and back.

"I should've come back before. But I was afraid. Afraid you would say no, but I just couldn't stop thinking about you. Cara hit me over the head more than once, practically ordering me to go back." He exhaled through his nose and smiled. What was it she used to say? What, are you stupid? Go to her. You're so CLEARLY in love, it's disgusting. "But then I found out Moff Gideon was involved too, and I couldn't let him near you. If, if you had been hurt because of him, I would never forgive myself. But he can't hurt you now."

Getting to his feet, he walked around the chair and stopped in front of you. Crouching down, he took both your hands in his, brushing his lips over your knuckles. "Were you serious when you said you would leave this planet if you could?

Not daring to look away, in case this was all a dream, you nodded and squeaked out a thin "Yeah." The sound took you by surprise, and you barked a laugh, breaking the tension in the small room.

Din laughed too, and gave you a crooked smile that almost made you slide off the seat. "I could use a co-pilot," he offered with a wink.

Looking dramatically around the room, you shrugged. "I can't fly."

"Well, company then," he replied, opening his arms to you.

You sank into his embrace, leaning forward with such force that he toppled backwards, pulling you with him. He didn't let go, and you landed on top of him, nose to nose, and with a vague feeling of your skin being on fire.

His warmth and scent enveloped you, and when he leaned up to gently press his lips against yours, thousands of tiny stars skipped over your body, leaving flames in their wake. This was not a time to be gentle, and you dipped down to mould yourself against him. You were home.  

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Chapter 20

Ah, now the truth shall be revealed! Time to show our cards and see where they will lay. So I actually wrote this chapter and the chapter to follow BEFORE I wrote the Kamoba battle chapter because I was overwhelmed trying to pack all of that information and detail into a chapter that read that way and not like the notes of a deranged lunatic from the inside of a padded cell. And writing this chapter and the one to follow flowed so nicely and it helped me keep the focus on the characters and their story lines and their arcs within a battle sequence and not get lost in the battle itself. Which was a struggle for me. Not going to lie. 

@punkhorse96​ and everyone else- enjoy.  

Blood For Gold 

Chapter 20

The moment all of you came down to breakfast and just before Gregori could announce the news of the case being dismissed from court, a messenger from Buckingham Palace arrived with a proclamation as all of you stood respectfully to receive it. 

“It is ordered by her Majesty Queen Dowager Anastasia Raymond, that all occupants of the Palace of Windsor are hereby requested to go to Buckingham Palace for an audience with the Queen Dowager, His Royal Highness, His Majesty the King, as well as Her Royal Highness Queen Alexandria as soon as possible.” He read aloud before you all immediately disbursed and practically ran back to your rooms to dress in your best attire that you had before you came back down. 

“Countess Audravienne Morrigan, you are requested to ride in the head carriage alone.” The messenger informed you as you looked anxiously at your family and Demsey who looked particularly anxious to have you leave his sight as you were only allowed to give him one last squeeze of his hand before the attendant escorted you away and into the royal coach of a carriage as you sat there, alone before you finally found you had the opportunity to read that damn journal as you opened it up and immediately started crying when you saw it was from Demsey two days prior. 

You barely noticed everyone else get loaded up into the various carriages behind you as once everyone was loaded up, the whole caravan travelled towards the palace as your heart reached out to Demsey as you resolved in yourself that no matter what would happen at Buckingham Palace, if you did not make Demsey yours by the end of the day, you felt like you would die. Finally, after all this time and pain and hurt, you found what you were looking for, a gentle man who would love you without reserve, be faithful and loyal to you without question or waiver. Who didn’t care if you were penniless, poor and destitute or had nobility or not. All he wanted was you and you would be giving everything you had to him, no matter how much or how little that was as you read through it before pressing it to your chest and wiping happy, grateful tears from your eyes as the knowledge of his love gave you so much peace and comfort and was exactly what you needed as you regained your composure as you only had time to write a single line in it- in answer to the pages upon pages of declaration of love. 

‘I love you too.’ 

Once at the palace you were taken out of the carriage and escorted into the audience room where the Queen Dowager and the King and Queen were seated on their thrones as the Queen Dowager’s Mage was seated nearby and on the other side of her was seated a second mage, a male one this time, as you handed the journal off and requested that it be put into Duke Demsey Voyambi’s hands and no one else’s before you entered the room and approached them. 

“Your Majesties,” you greeted respectfully as you bowed low. 

“It is a pleasure to see you again so soon, again, congratulations on your victory in the Kamoba battle yesterday Countess Morrigan or do you prefer the title of Sultana Saharazat?” The Queen Dowager greeted you formally. 

“Whichever you prefer to use your Majesty.” You answered. 

“Sultana Saharazat it is. Now, it has come to my attention that your correspondence has gone missing within the Royal Mail Service?” Dowager Queen Anastasia asked from her spot on the thrown that flanked her son’s, mirroring her daughter in law’s throne on the other side of the King. 

“Yes.” You confirmed. 

“If you will come forward and approach this table, I think you will find it has all been found and is hereby given back to you.” She offered as you obeyed and came forward as you noticed stacks of mail, organized by who sent what. So many letters from your parents, from your family, from your friends, especially Leumeni, he seemed to have written the most to you before you noticed your own letters that were meant to reach them, and none of them had been opened and they all looked as if they had been written only yesterday before you noticed more than just your mail was on the table, but letters from members of your own household to the Morrigans and Richard’s mistress, Myra as you noticed even more letters from Dr. Rickets to Gregori which was the most surprising to see along with letters from Richard to various members and masters at the Royal Mail Service there as well. 

“Unfortunately, all those letters that you see on the table, they are all duplicates of the originals, since the originals were all destroyed by fire. These are just humble recreations of what was lost. We have proof and solid evidence as you can see from the letters on the table, that there are some directed from Count Richard Morrigan to the members of the Royal Mail Service. That is the proof that it was his direction that all of your mail coming in or out to you personally was to be destroyed the moment it touched the hands of the mail sorters and messengers.” She explained as you picked up the letters in question and read them yourself. 

“Mage Bellfast, who is seated over there,” She continued as she gestured over to him as you looked over and nodded respectfully at him as he did the same to you. 

“He was ordered by my son Gregori, to recreate all of them and I asked him to come to me and deliver it all to me as evidence and proof. Your own personal correspondence to and from you personally was never opened but all other correspondence was to gather evidence. And the proof of such sabotage is as you can see, very sizable. I wanted to tell you personally that because this involved my family and the Royal Mail Service and because it exposed it’s corruption, I am the one who dismissed your case in the public and even the private court systems and I hope you can, one day, forgive me. But I insist on giving you justice myself and dealing with this matter personally because a grave sin has been made against you and I insist on doing everything in my power to set it right. And I will serve as judge and jury, for surely you know that even I, was once a moura bride just like you. And such a slight will never be tolerated again and such a case of corruption can never be allowed to happen again. And may I also offer my deepest and most sincere apologies to you for such grievances and I hope that you will allow me to make amends.” She offered as tears flooded your vision, while a mixture of emotions seemed to wage war within you, part of you was relieved, at least for Jane’s sake, another part of you wanted to expose Richard and Agnes Morrigan for the monsters that they were for all of England to see. But you were not going to refuse this help by any means. 

“Of course, thank you, your Majesty.” You thanked her as you did your best to wipe the grateful tears from your eyes as you saw that Demsey had even tried to write you a letter a few days before the ball, to warn you about who might be there and who would mean you harm. 

“Now, Mage Bellfast as well as my own Mage, Mage Altissia have found your scene catcher spell and if you will forgive them, but they found your passwords, but let me assure you that I, nor any of the royal family have seen what was behind those passwords, only that they were there and only with your explicit permission will such footage be shown or it can be destroyed upon your decree, but, for now, if you would hold off from making such a decision before this entire case is heard out, I have all parties coming to assemble to so that everything can be sorted out with everyone and once the air is clear and all the sins against you have been exposed, then justice will be dealt out accordingly. Now, as far as I can tell, this involves Gregori, Yalin and their family and the entire Morrigan family as well, along with Dr. Rickets and the post men who Richard has contacted. I also have Dr. Chu and his wife, who is practically a doctor herself here along with five other physicians to serve as their own jurors along with stable masters from Dorierra to change your classification. And with your permission, I would like to call them some of them in now.” Anastasia offered. 

“Yes of course,” you agreed. 

“Call in, the physician-, Dr. Rickets and the post men, the entire Morrigan family as well as my son Gregori and his family along with Sultana Saharazat’s family in, at this time.” Queen Dowager Anastasia commanded before they came in, all at once from different doors around the room since they all had been waiting in different rooms attached to the main audience room so as not to cause a stir outside of it.

“You bitch!” Agnes screamed as the moment the side door was open and she saw you, she ran towards you before guards came and stood between her and you. 

“Countess Morrigan! You will conduct yourself with the dignity of your station or I will strip you of it, have you whipped and then drawn and quartered in the town square!” Anastasia boomed as she stood from her throne as she glared down hatefully at Agnes. 

“Sultana Saharazat is under my protection and any threat against her is a threat against the crown and comes with a death sentence and you and your family will be branded as traitors to the crown and everything you have will be awarded to her in retaliation, do I make myself clear?!” Anastasia snarled as Agnes realized the royal family was there immediately slinked back. 

“I apologize, your Majesty, I did not think you would be in here but this woman is a...” Agnes did her best to try to excuse.  

“You didn’t think that I would be in my own palace? Much less in my own audience room? Are you mad or a simpleton?” Anastasia demanded. 

“Neither, just...careless your Majesty.” Agnes tried to defer but her face was as red as beet as Richard looked angry and ashamed as his mistress, Myra stood a decent distance behind them and looked particularly annoyed as well. 

“Now guards, keep a line between the whole Morrigan family, the Sultana’s family and the Raymonds, just for good measure.” Anastasia commanded before more guards were called in as your family joined you as you reassured them that you were ok and that the Dowager Queen, was going to be acting as judge and jury in your case as your family was relieved. 

“Many many thanks to you- your Majesty for dealing with this matter personally.” Your mother and Grandmother offered as they knelt down respectfully as was their custom. 

“Do not thank me yet, we are just getting started, please, get up, also someone get everyone chairs so that they may be seated comfortably.” Anastasia commanded as she had you sit down at the table where all your letters were. 

“Now, let’s start at the beginning shall we? Ramsey, what exactly did you say to your father at Sultana Saharazat’s wedding to Count Edward Morrigan?” Anastasia demanded as Ramsey’s eyes got as wide as saucers as everyone except for Axal seemed to be surprised at the news that all of this would start with him and not the Morrigans. 

“I uh...well, you see at the time…” Ramsey fumbled over his words as he stood on his feet and fidgeted with his cuff links as Anastasia looked irritated as did the rest of his family especially his parents. 

“Ramsey, for the sake of time, please just tell this audience chamber- you said to your parents that day?” Anastasia tried to gently coach him. 

“That Sultana Saharazat was the perfect bride and that no one could match her.” Ramsey finally admitted. 

“But I don’t see…” Ramsey began before his grandmother raised her hand to silence him. 

“Now, Gregori, Ramsey is nearly forty, you have been on him to wed for the last two decades and in the last eight to ten years you have become harder and harder on him to find a bride, to get married and give your family line the legitimate heir it so desperately needs but you were stopped since Ramsey up until that point, has been a roguish rake clinging onto boyish foolishness as if it was his lifeline instead of realizing that it was his downfall and was going to be leading to his ruination, I believe the current lengths you had gone to up until that point was that if Ramsey had not found a bride that season you were going to cut him off financially completely and send him into the army to get the rakish ways beaten out of him one way or another.” Anastasia said with a hard look to her grandson who seemed to wilt under her intense gaze. 

“But since then, I have found a bride, and I am leaving behind my rakish past and she is the one true bride for me.” Ramsey offered. 

“And was it Sultana Saharazat?” Anastasia demanded. 

“Well...no,” Ramsey winced. 

“Right, so what I want to know was why you chose Sultana Saharazat on her wedding day to another as your bride?” Anastasia demanded. 

“I chose her out of panic, because since she was getting married that day, she was no longer available and it would give me more time and I figured that when Edward would eventually die, I would have had enough time to grow up by then.” Ramsey confessed shamefully. 

“So you deliberately chose a bride who was unavailable to put yourself and your parents at an impasse, thinking that they would stop hounding you and threatening you with the army if you chose one who conveniently was already married, by mere minutes.” Anastasia concluded. 

“Yes.” Ramsey confirmed as his cheeks were also beet red as he looked at you apologetically as everyone in your family as well as his own actually groaned, along with the Queen Dowager, the King and the Queen herself as the King looked ready to strangle his nephew with his own hands. 

“So you had no real feeling or attachment to Sultana Audravienne Saharazat, she was just a moura bride in a white dress at the end of the season and it was either chose an impossible option or lose everything?” Anastasia pressed further. 

“Yes.” Ramsey nodded guiltily. 

“And do you realize because you panicked and did that, that you are the reason Sultana Saharazat’s life was destroyed?!” Anastasia seethed as Ramsey’s eyes flooded with tears as he looked particularly mortified. 

“Please! No! I had no idea!” Ramsey wailed as he shook his head no. 

“How could Ramsey have known that the Morrigans would try to poison her with mourkatili! No one could have predicted that they would be so cruel and abuse her, thinking that because Edward Senior would have her that no one else could?!” Yalin insisted, coming to her son’s defense. 

“No, nor could you foresee that your own husband, my own son, which after today, that may be up for debate and put into question, but that is a battle for another time. In an effort to give your son the impossible would go so far as to poison his own countrymen to death.” Anastasia revealed in a snarling growl as everyone gasped as all eyes turned towards Gregori who was unusually silent as he kept his gaze on his mother defiantly. 

“Dr. Rickets, I believe it is your turn to tell the truth, the whole truth or you will be sent to the tower, drawn and quartered, your house burned after it is turned into a public toilet and your family turned out into the street.” Anastasia leveled at him as Dr. Rickets gulped. 

“The day after Edward came home from his honeymoon, he had gone to town on business and had run into Dauphin Gregori Raymond and when the Dauphin questioned Edward Senior about his new wife and he had confirmed that she was the perfect bride, he sent for me. He told me of the encounter and gave me a sum of a thousand pounds if I would poison Edward Sr. with Wolf’s Eye to be mixed in with his regular medicine, Wolf’s Eye is known for causing delirium before it causes a stroke and with his old age, going senile and dying of heart failure would not raise suspicion.” Dr. Rickets answered. 

“You took a bribe to kill my father?! To poison him?!” Richard roared as he stood up and pointed his finger at Dr. Rickets and had Richard been armed, you were sure Dr. Rickets would be run through from the rage in his voice alone.  

“Yes,” Dr. Rickets confirmed as he could not raise his eyes to Richard out of shame. 

“And when you discovered that he had been poisoned, I lied to you to protect myself and my family and put the blame on someone who would know poisons,” Dr. Rickets confessed. 

“Which in that household only left me to be suspect.” You volunteered. 

“So you asked for mourkatili but at the time the Dauphin was in Dorierra, trying to find Ramsey another wife, and the letter couldn’t reach him in time for me to find an answer and you said that if I did not supply you with mourkatili, that you would find another source so I obtained some, but I added Jade’s Crown to it, to help neutralize it’s lethality until the Dauphin could be reached.” Dr. Rickets tried to excuse as the whole royal family practically groaned and rolled their eyes in annoyance. 

“Except that Jade’s Crown when mixed with mourkatili while it does lesson it’s lethality when first ingested, it does not neutralize it, instead it makes it lethally addictive so that the moura who drinks it is instantly addicted and will drink themselves to death trying to drink more and more of it which in turn can lead to madness in a moura with 77% of the cases studied to date it leads to the moura being completely deranged beyond repair, if you really wanted to neutralize it, you would have added Dragon Heart Flower which turns mourkatili from sweet to putrid, salty and bitter so that even the smell of it makes everyone want to vomit, if you were so intent on offering up Sultana Saharazat to the Raymonds, why didn’t you do that or go to the police at the very least to report that Sultana Saharazat was about to be poisoned?” Mage Altissia snapped angrily at Dr. Rickets. 

“Because I was afraid, that if Dauphin Ramsey had found his bride once he visited the stables, that I would be found out, and I couldn’t risk the Morrigans knowing I tampered with the mourkatili, they knew what it smelled like and what it was supposed to look like, I could not use Dragon Heart Flower, because they would know that I knew too much about poisons instead of medicine and they would be suspicious of me and I would lose my medical license and my living as a doctor.” Dr. Rickets blubbered as he did his best not to cry and failed miserably. 

“Do you think after this moment anyone is going to trust you with their health? If I went to the papers and even hinted to the editor to tell the gossip columns about this, you would be run out of England and all of Europa based on rumor alone.” Yalin seethed. 

“And it’s not like Count and Countess Morrigan didn’t know that Audra was innocent. Jane informed me that when it was Audra who discovered that his medicine had been tampered with and tried to talk to you all about it, that she was dismissed and then accused of the very thing she was trying to bring to light and you repaid her by poisoning her in turn and how Jane, through her own snooping found the Wolf’s Eye and the Jade’s Crown in his own medical bag but yet you still did not believe her.” Charlotte offered with a pointed look to Agnes and Richard as Jane stayed by Rian’s side with your family because she didn’t want to be with the rest of her family for fear they would hurt her. 

“And the fact that your daughter even now, shrinks back from you proves your own guilt of abuse.” Anastasia pointed out as she noticed Jane’s reaction to all of this. 

“And the fact that you then accused her of being brainwashed by Audra and then disciplined her for just using her own mind and powers of deduction because Jane had investigated Audra herself and found that Audra brought no such things with her, says a lot more too.” Charlotte smirked smugly at the Morrigans as well as her grandmother. 

“So, what happened after that Dr. Rickets?” Anastasia asked. 

“The Dauphin sent a transmission via messengerari, and when I found out that Ramsey did not find another bride, I told him about what the Morrigans had done and what I had done to try to diminish it and then he told me to up the dose to Count Edward Senior and that he wanted to see Edward Morrigan’s obituary in the paper when he got back so that Ramsey would only have to wait another year before he could marry Countess Audravienne Morrigan. But I did not expect Edward’s body to be so strong. And I did not think he would hold on so long, nor abuse Countess Audravienne Morrigan to the extent that he did and I did not think that the Morrigans would be so determined to bury her with Edward.” Dr. Rickets confessed. 

“So, your own doctor was bribed to poison your father and yet you blame the innocents in the situation and break the contract by trying to murder the very one who knew something was amiss. Why didn’t you go to the police? Why didn’t you have her arrested and investigated, why go through all the trouble of poisoning her and trying to kill her?” Anastasia asked RIchard and Agnes. 

“We didn’t want to ruin our good name and reputation. Mouras are known to die of broken hearts, we thought it would be less suspicious if she died with him and we could pass the blame onto that.” Richard confessed. 

“And bury your own guilt with her, brilliant.” Anastasia sarcastically praised as she glared down at them. 

“But that wasn’t all your Majesty, the Morrigans have more sins that should be known.” Charlotte insisted. 

“Well, no one in this court room can trust either of you to ever tell us the truth, I would like ask the only trustworthy Morrigan left. Jane. Before you speak, know that when and if you decide to do so. You have my word to be protected from those monsters over there that you are unfortunately related to. And if you are worried about your own name and reputation being called into question, know that I personally will guarantee your safety and integrity of your own reputation and if I have to invite you to stay at Buckingham Palace as my honored guest and ward, then I’m ready and willing to make that offer.” Queen Alexandria finally spoke up. 

“And I second that.” Anastasia insisted. 

“The first time my parents had the mourkatili served to Audra, it was in a tea, disguised as hibiscus tea with sugar and honey to hide the mourkatili. Audra took one sip and immediately knew she had been poisoned and called out for help but they bound her and gagged her and forced it down her throat. She spent the better part of a week being drunk off of it and then almost another week being hungover and refused any drink other than water and nothing even remotely purple in her food. The second time my parents tried to poison her, they had my oldest half brother Dale, who is my father’s mistress, Miss Myra’s son she has born to my father out of wedlock, who was only 20, come and serve it to her and my mother insisted to prove that it was not poisonous, insisted that he taste test it first and Audra could tell from the smell that it was mourkatili and tried to stop him but he obeyed my mother and the moment it touched his lips, he fell down dead. My mother tried to pin the blame for his death on Audra, saying it was her insistance that all of her food and drink be tested first to Myra who came to Audra and demanded to know what Dale had ever done to her for her to poison him. And when Audra tried to tell her the truth, she didn’t believe her. Then my father returned home from business and when he heard about it and saw Dale’s dead body being carted off, he had Audra bound and gagged and then he whipped her himself, even though I was just in the other room and saw and heard it all, And I had a messengerari in the room and captured the moment and it wasn’t until I made Myra and my father both watch it when they learned the truth. Myra apologized to Audra, by my father never did. Instead he then did the same abuse he did to Audra, he did to my mother only twice as worse. My mother couldn’t leave her room for two months after and could barely walk without the help of a cane because he had beaten her so badly, he nearly killed her.” Jane confessed as Ramsey was actually sobbing, feeling so much guilt and remorse as Axal wanted nothing more than to comfort him but the line of guards kept him from doing so as you watched as your own family stopped looking at Jane like the enemy, instead, looked at her with kindness and sympathy instead. 

“So then, a month later, my mother tried to have my youngest half brother- George, who was only six, to come and serve Audra that mourkatili tea and tried to do it again only that time Audra, in an effort to protect little George, drank all of it down as quickly as she could so that he would not be harmed at all.” Jane revealed with a broken sob. 

“Jane, show them.” You pleaded with her before she nodded and together you went up to the large mirror on the wall that was itself, a grand messengerari  and put in your code to bring in the feed from your scene catchers for it to play out on the it before you put in your first password into the messengerari and then Jane put in the second as everyone watched as it all played out as you and Jane held each other and cried as you watched it all as you noticed that someone had gone through this and strung all the “best parts”, or “worst parts” depending on your point of view-  together so that it really showcased just how horrible and vicious the Morrigan’s- besides Jane- were. 

“This is an outrage! To have our privacy invaded as such!” Agnes screeched. 

“Guards, will you bind and gag that wretch to her chair and handcuff that beast next to her...” The King, Leopold snarled angrily before they came and bound and gagged Agnes so that she was tied to the chair and couldn’t move as the rest of it played out as Richard looked fully ashamed and like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole and didn’t fight when irons were put on his, neck, wrists and ankles so that he was bound just like all the postmen who had also been brought in were. 

“But your majesties, there is something missing from the record, where is the moment of Edward’s death?” Dr. Ricket’s volunteered. 

“He had either a stroke or heart attack by your diagnosis and that happened while he was in the act of raping Audra, I helped her strike it from the record to at least preserve what little bit of dignity she had left.” Jane defended evenly. 

“And that will be allowed and of course accepted.” Anastasia insisted. 

“Absolutely.” King Leopold agreed. 

“Indeed.” Queen Anastasia readily agreed as well. 

“So, since it is clear that Sultana Saharazat is the innocent party and since she has paid for every bit of gold and wealth she has with her own blood, it is unthinkable that she should have to pay any more for anything else. However, in order to protect the Crown, the Dauphin’s involvement in this case can not be made public, so, Sultana Saharazat, what can Gregori, Yalin and Ramsey offer you in recompense for their involvement? Besides their deepest apologies and regrets?” King Leopold asked you. 

“There are a few things I want from them. The first, I want Charlotte to be free to marry whoever she deems worthy, whether he be of high status or low. It is clear her parents enjoy a loving and wonderful marriage and I want her to enjoy the same with someone who she wants. The second is I want Ramsey to be free to marry Octavia Lafronze and I want her own fee to the stables for her and her companion, Katardrina to be paid as well. I want my brother Axal to marry Katardrina but stay close to Ramsey and Octavia since the four of them are very close and I do not wish to pull them apart. It is clear to me that Ramsey did not intend for any of this to happen and he made a mistake and neither he nor anyone else could foresee how desperate his father was to see him married. And the fact that he has shed so many tears of guilt and remourse, I know he does not take this lightly and I believe he has learned his lesson and will never make this mistake ever again. Gregori and Yalin have been nothing but kind and compassionate and generous with me while I have stayed with them. But now I feel that they only did so out of guilt, at least on Gregori’s part, because they knew they provided the figurative spark that ignited the forest fire that happened at Broadcove. Third, my griffin Heavencrest has mated and paired with their own griffin Charlico. I would like him to be mine so that Heavencrest and Charlico may stay together and fourth, at the ball at Havenfield, Ramsey, in friendship offered that I and the other mouras who came from Dorierra would be elevated to Dowager status, and I want those promises and guarantees to be fulfilled, So I want everyone who has come from Dorierra up until this point in my case, either male or female, to be given Dowager status and any who wish to stay in English society, I would like for them to receive titles of Nobility, they do not have to be high, but I would like them to be high enough that they all can move about in high society with ease, if they wish to.” You answered. 

“Audra, please know that at least my children and I had no idea of Gregori’s involvement and I want you to know that all kindness and consideration from them and myself, was always genuine, of course you can have Charlico, I will give you his papers the moment we get home, please is there anything else we can do?” Yalin offered and you could tell she was being genuine. 

“I will let you know when I think of something else.” You offered. 

“Thank you.” Yalin thanked you graciously. 

“Now for the Morrigans, let’s revisit your case, because it does not stop here. You actually bribed four members of the Royal Postal Service to destroy every piece of mail Sultana Saharazat sent out and every piece she would receive and you hired a mage to cast a spell on your own lightning rods so that it would disrupt the signal from every messengerari not only on at Broadcove and Mirador but it was so strong that it made all your neighbor’s messengerari’s cut in and out for the last two years. The fact that you put into question the integrity of the Royal Mail Service was the reason I dismissed your case from court. But as you can see Mage Bellfast was more than happy to duplicate every piece of mail that you ordered to be burned and Mage Altissia provided the rest. But if that wasn’t enough, you had your mistress, send her own children, your own bastards as servants in the Sultana’s household to work for you as spies as you continued to pay them their wages that you had been paying them at your home while they collected wages from Sultana Saharazat as well. Your wife is one to talk about an invasion of privacy, when you yourself have been invading hers all along.” Anastasia insisted as you began opening the letters and read them for yourself, only to find about three months into your widowhood, how all of them told their father in their own way how they would spy on you no more, because you had treated them with kindness, respect and dignity and how he could keep his money, they didn’t need it or want it. But instead, that your own wages to them were plenty generous enough for them to have comforts enough to suit “the likes of them”. 

“Except she turned my own children against me, they haven’t reported to me in over half a year! Practically nine months! And they keep sending back any money I try to send them, which is hurtful and deceitful in itself.  She has deceived you all and she has clearly conspired with the Raymonds!” Richard tried to accuse.

“Did your nanny drop you on your head? Are you mad to make such an accusation?” King Leopold asked Richard who shut his mouth to keep from saying anything else. 

“Nevermind answering that, I have come to my decision. Because of your shameless exploits and treachery. You will be stripped of your nobility. Since you both are guilty of murder as in the case of that wretch who goes by Agnes or attempted murder in both of your cases. Everything you have, all wealth, all connections, all property, business enterprises, investments, land ownership, everything, will be handed over to Sultana Audravienne Saharazat to do with as she pleases and she can turn your precious Broadcove into a public latrine for all I care. Both of you will be sent to the asylum for clear insanity, where both of you will not only be treated with Wolf’s Eye but Wolf’s Mane as well and both of you will rot in a prison cell going insane and because Jane has been with the Raymond’s she was not exposed to the sickness that caused both of you to go mad in attempts to bribe Dr. Rickets into giving you mourkatili to poison and kill the Sultana Audravienne Saharazat.” King Leopold decreed. 

“Except for little Edward. He is only a boy, and is completely innocent in all of this too.” You offered. 

“Very well, since Sultana Saharazat has spoken for him, he will be brought to be with Jane. 

“Actually, your majesty, if I have a suggestion, if you like it, you can use it, if not, let things happen how you have directed them to.” You intervened again. 

“Very well, what are your thoughts on this matter?” He asked. 

“I have read these letters that all of Richard’s eldest children have written to him, rejecting him because if their father loved them so much, why would he put up with Agnes mistreating them so cruelly so that with just a little bit of kindness, respect and dignity from me- they happily switched their loyalties to me. Richard’s mistress, Miss Myra Bellafont, I wish for Broadcove may go to her. For she too has spent most of her life having to put up with Agnes, and was powerless to protect her own children from her partner’s wife, to the point that her own eldest son lost his life because of Agnes’ hate towards them. They were blameless in that they did not ask to have the father they do and they did not ask to be brought into the world or had any control over their circumstances and as much as Richard and Agnes made my life a living hell, I can’t imagine what they have made her go through. If at all possible, if she could be given a title, it doesn’t have to be a high one, but I wish for her and her children to inherit Broadcove and even though Agnes has treated Myra and her children with animosity, I know Myra doesn’t hold any towards Jane or little Edward and even Edward Senior was kind and partial to them while he lived. Even now the children of hers that remain at Broadcove are little Edward’s playmates and if Myra can swear and promise me as well as their Majesties that she will care for Edward and Jane well, I trust she will care for little Edward as well as she does her own little Geroge and I do not wish for Jane or little Edward to partake in their parent’s disgrace and I want the same freedoms that I have requested for Charlotte to be Jane’s as well, so that she can accept any offer of marraige from anyone she deems worthy as well, who will love her and treat her with kindness, respect, reverence and dignity, all of which she is just as deserving as I am.” You offered hopefully. 

“Very well, Myra Bellafont, you are now awarded the title of Marquise, you have come from somewhere foreign, you are a wealthy widow and have bought up Broadcove once you learned that Count and Countess Morrigan had gone on holiday and contracted a disease that made them go mad and your own sympathy towards their innocent children have moved you to take them on as your wards and you are now their loving and caring guardian. The house is to be cleaned thoroughly and Sultana Saharazat will award you any businesses that the Morrigans have so that you may upkeep Broadcove and that income may provide for your needs and the needs of your children.” King Leopold proclaimed. 

“Yes your majesty.” Yourself and Myra happily accepted as she curtsied deeply as Anges wriggled and screamed around her gag in her spot.

“Take Mr. and Mrs. Morrigan and Dr. Rickets to the asylum at once and turn these four traitorous men over to the tower.” Dr. Leopold insisted as he gestured to them since they had come in already in chains. 

“But it was Audra who dealt Edward his death blow!” Dr. Rickets hollered as the hair on the back of your neck rose as your anger blazed as you gripped the dagger at your waist so hard your knuckles turned white as you wanted to stab him. 

“You yourself proclaimed he had died of heart failure in your autopsy report before his body was buried.” King Leopold frowned as Jane and yourself looked at each other worriedly before your own desperation to never be afraid of this secret that you had given almost everything to keep hidden. But no more. If you were going to expose everything, you would not hold back.  

“Your Majesties, I do not wish to live any kind of lie. I do not wish for anyone to ever hold anything over me or blackmail me ever again. So, I will show you the moment of Count Edward’s death and you can judge for yourselves, whether I was guilty or not of his death, but I ask all of you watch and really see all of it, do not look away, do not close your eyes and do not turn a blind eye to it.” You insisted as you held Jane’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as you gave her a reassuring smile as you both put in the third and final password that showed the truth as all of the Royal Family as well as yours watched in horror as Edward tried to rape you then once his flesh touched yours, he turned into a statue of platinum and fell to the bed and broke it, the crash echoing through the audience room as gasps were given by everyone except by Myra, Jane and yourself as it showed you in a panic, touching Edward and turning him to flesh again and then calling for Jane for help as you told her what had happened and how confused you were about it and wanted to know what to do as both of you called in Dr. Rickets to make a diagnosis and then to Myra and the servants to keep quiet about the crash as Myra herself brokered for you to take her own children with you when you would leave Broadcove as a widow and pleaded with you to be good to them. 

“Audra, I would like to apologize, had I known that that was the reason for the crash I heard, that  I never would have made that deal with you and I’m so sorry if my own children following you to Mirador caused you any distress, I never asked them to spy on you.” Myra offered as she wiped her tears from her eyes. 

“I know, but Richard did.” You answered. 

“So you did kill him!” Richard practically crooned, feeling vindicated and validated.

“Oh enough! Guard, gag him as well so that nothing else of a poisonous nature leaves his mouth, only enters it.” King Leopold ordered before Richard too was gagged with a handkerchief. 

“No, she is innocent of murder because she didn’t purposefully do so because if she did know she had had that ability prior to that instant, don’t you think you yourself would have turned to platinum the moment you landed your first slap? It was self defense, surely you know enough of moura history and heard the tales that any one who dare force a moura to bed, would be turned into a pillar of gold by morning?” Anastasia defended you evenly. 

“That was our protection for millenia. Audra did not intend for Edward Senior to die and had Edward Senior had his wits, he never would have done so to begin with. And now that you are officially branded as insane, you can scream such things at the top of your lungs and no one will believe you.” The Queen Consort- Alexandria replied to the Morrigans.  

“I judge you innocent in all things, do not let this moment define you and do not let this moment stop you from living your life to the fullest.” Alexandria urged you warmly and comfortingly. 

“I too judge you completely innocent. And hereby decree, that because you suffered at the hands of Richard Morrigan, Edward Morrigan Senior and by extension, Dauphin Gregori Raymond, all previous rulings will stand, and this doesn’t change anything except for one thing. I hereby promote you and all mouras who choose to stay in England- the noble rank and title of Marquess as well and award you personally, a living of twenty five thousand pounds a year from the crown for the rest of your life, whether you choose to remarry or not. And all others who wish to stay in the country, a living of ten thousand pounds a year.” He decreed. 

“Thank you, Your Majesties, might we invite all the other Mouras in to tell them the news directly?” You requested before King Leopold nodded and ordered for Calla and her brothers as well as Benny and her brothers to come in along with Octavia and Katardrian as the messengerari was cleared to just show a mirror’s reflection yet again. 

“So, the reason I have brought you all here today was to discuss Sultana Audravienne’s Saharazat’s case in the courts. Because of certain components of the case and sensitive nature of it, I myself put a stop to it going into the court system to keep reproach from coming to the crown. And with such concessions to protect the privacy of all involved, the Sultana has been reimbursed accordingly and hopefully to her satisfaction.” Dowager Queen Anastasia began. 

“Yes, it has been settled to my satisfaction, thank you Your Majesty.” You happily replied as you and Jane smiled happily and with relief to each other as you sat side by side and still held onto each other because now, you both were safe, and more importantly, free. 

“So part of the concessions and reimbursement that the Sultana asked for was that all of you from Dorierra, male and female alike, are now all considered Dowagers and are invited to stay in England as Maquess and a living will be awarded each of you for ten thousand pounds a year.” The King ordered as they all smiled brightly and happily. 

“Thank you, your Majesty.” They all happily and excitedly thanked him. 

“Now, call in the stable masters from Dorierra so that their masters may be updated to Dowager status.” King Leopold instructed before the stable masters came and took two at a time, starting with the adults just as Agnes and Richard were being led out along with Dr. Rickets as he too was gagged and bound. 

“Marquess Saharazat.” Mage Bellfast approached you as you sat down at the desk and continued to go through all the letters there. 

“Yes?” You asked. 

“Again, I am Mage Bellfast, I was hired by the Dauphin to recreate your mail that was burned.” He reintroduced himself. 

“Oh, yes, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have it all back.” You smiled happily as he offered his hand as you graciously gave it to him for him to kiss your knuckles in a very gentlemanly like manner. 

“But I was hoping to get just the smallest of tokens from you in thanks.” Belfast began. 

“Of course, what would you like?” You asked. 

“For you to turn this bar of moura gold into platinum for me.” Belfast said as he produced the bar and put it onto the table in front of you as Mage Altissia practically ran towards you. 

“Do not do that!” Mage Altissia demanded. 

“Why not?” Belfast asked. 

“Do you think she would give me moura platinum and not you? Surely you have something made from moura gold that she can turn for you.” Belfast replied calmly as you picked up the bar but nothing happened. 

“No, because she only got the power once the mourkatili was in her system and since the Dragon Grevu healed her, thus her indigo violet hair, she has lost such capabilities.” Altissia offered as you blew out a breath of relief as you squeezed the bar with all your might but nothing was happening. 

“Well that won’t do, will it.” Belfast before in a flash he hit you with a spell that knocked you backwards off your chair and your feet flying over your head and onto the floor which caused everyone to stop and stare and rush over to you. 

“What did you do to me?!” You yelled as everyone watched as the indigo violet drained from your hair back into your scalp just as you found your feet, drew your dagger and aimed it at Bellfast’s throat before he used magic to stop your fist.

“Temper, temper.” Belfast tsked and smiled wolfishly as the golden dagger turned platinum white in your grips as indigo violet blood dripped from your nose as your eyes changed color from gold- to a glowing indigo violet as well as once again the mourkatili entered your body as you felt weak and fell to the floor coughing and sputtering, your blood splattering and staining the wood you stood on as your blade clattering to the floor with you. 

“Mage Bellfast, what is the meaning of this?!” Queen Dowager Anastasia demanded as she and the Queen and the King came over to see for themselves. 

“Well you saw it for yourself, she is a platinum moura now and I wanted my payment for all that mail and correspondence I had to conjure up.” Belfast explained. 

“And since your Majesties have ordered for her and every other moura who came to England to have nobility and a very generous yearly income, wouldn’t it be fair for her to help mitigate that cost by turning any number of moura gold bricks you have in the place to platinum for you?” Belfast offered as King Leopold hesitated for a beat. 

“Guards, have ten moura gold bricks be brought in.” King Leopold ordered as Alexandria and Anastasia both gasped in outrage. 

“Leo that is uncalled for, hasn’t the poor girl suffered and given enough?!” Anastasia demanded. 

“You said yourself that she shouldn’t have to pay anything to anyone ever again, this is going back on your word!” Alexandria insisted as she stared in horror at her husband. 

“I’m just asking her to change ten small bricks of gold into platinum, then I’m sure Bellfast can cure her again and all will be well.” Leopold insisted. 

“Now, if you’ll please.” Belfast insisted as he handed you the small gold bar as you touched it and watched with regret as it turned from gold to platinum before you hatefully gave it back to him before you turned and walked over to where your grandmother’s dagger had clattered away as you picked it up but when you touched it again, it turned back to gold, before turning to black ash in your hands and disintegrated in your hands as all the jewels fell through your fingers and fell to the ground as everyone else screamed to see your hands now stained black just as Bellfast took the platinum bar in his gloved hands and made the fatal mistake of kissing it, the moment the bar touched his lips, his whole face began to be eaten away and turned into black ash which caused everyone to give Bellfast room as they watched helplessly as Bellfast completely disintergrated into a pile of black ash and clothes, the platinum bar now landing in a heap. 

“The plague! You have unleashed the golden plague again!” The Dowager Queen screamed in horror at Leopold as she struck at him. 

“Your Majesties, I can explain this phenomenon. Because Audravienne unlocked her platinum abilities once the mourkatili was in her body, that means that only when she has mourkatili still in her system can she turn moura gold into platinum, but that also means that all platinum she turns has the same properties as mourkatili. So, I would not advise for her to turn anything else into platinum, and for her to return to where Grevu is and become healed again, then all will be well, besides, the “cure” that Mage Bellfast gave to Gregori was not infact a cure, but it would make everything Audra touch turn into deadly platinum and she would surely die of starvation.” Mage Alitssia insisted before you went over and picked up the platinum brick and watched as it turned from platinum white- to gold but then black ash almost instantaniously once again. 

“Guards, disregard that order about the gold bricks. As soon as they have all been classified as dowagers, they are free to go. My apologies Marquees Saharazat.” King Leopold offered as he looked both fearful yet apologetic before he ordered for that mess to be cleaned up immediately before the Voyambi’s finally came into the audience room to see the King, the Queen and the Queen Mother leave quickly through one door as the Morrigans had already been carted off in chains which was a relief to see before they came in to see you standing there with blackened hands but with golden hair again with a pile of black ash at your feet and on your dress. 

“What happened?” Demsey asked as he approached you before the masters returned with your parents and your grandmothers and your hier father and his wife and his mother in tow as they all had their masters rolled up in their hands with big bright smiles as the smiles immediately fell when they saw the scene. 

“Addie? What happened?” Your mother asked. 

“I unleashed the gold plague.” You whispered before you were called back by the masters of the stables to be reexamined by them and the group of doctors with them as you explained to them what had just happened in the audience room with Mage Altissia’s help.  

“Unfortuantely Sultana Saharazat, because of the mourkatili and because of your affect on moura gold, we can not give you the status of Dowager, the best we can offer you is Tavnit and until you are healed, you can not set foot back into Dorierra.” Master Ophelia offered apologetically as you closed your eyes and let your tears of disappointment fall. 

“That’s fine, I accept.” You nodded as it was put into your master and stamped in as your hands were washed clean from the ashes as you walked away and went over to Dr. Chu and his wife to get reexamined by them as Dr. Chu took your blood pressure and his eyes went wide. 

“Mei, take her blood pressure and pulse.” Wen insisted in Mandarin to his wife before she did as he asked as her eyes went wide. 

“What is it?” You asked them softly in Mandarin to keep your conversation private in the corner. 

“My Lady, you have the happy heartbeat.” Mei informed you with big wide eyes and a serious face. 

“I what?” You asked. 

“You are pregnant, about three and a half weeks to a month along.” Dr. Chu diagnosed as Mei nodded in agreement to that diagnosis as you searched your thoughts back before you remembered- that last night with Demsey Draft, at the Masquerade ball, you were so heartbroken, that you forgot to order the pregnancy warding tea. You did not drink it that last time and apparently that was all it took. 

“Can I get rid of it? Surely it’s too early…” You tried to ask. 

“No, this is why Grevu healed you. I can tell by your chi, aura and energy readings. His magic is protecting this babe from all harm, even now, the mourkatili is not harming it at all, it’s being shielded and protected.” Mei explained as she waived her hands over your abdomen to feel the variations in energy as tears flooded your vision. To be so close to finally being with Duke Demsey Voyambi and Demsey Draft planted an obstacle right into your belly and you loved Demsey too much to try to pass this on as his, even if you married him today, the baby would come a month too soon. And while Mr. Draft and Duke Voyambi shared a lot of the same features, surely you couldn’t live with yourself if you passed this baby off as his. You needed to get out of here. And fast. 

“Say nothing, to anyone.” You pleaded with them. 

“Of course.” They readily agreed. 

“Thank you.” You thanked them as you hugged them tight before you bowed in respect to both of them to honor them. 

“I have to go.” You excused yourself as you left the room and the moment you saw Demsey, as much as you wanted to run into his arms, you couldn’t and it felt worse than a thousand stabs to the heart as you came out into the audience room with your master rolled up in your hands as you went over to your family and revealed what had happened with the stable masters as they too started crying. 

“Leumeni? Why are there so many letters between you and Audra?” Kiera asked as she picked a small stack of them up and looked them over. 

“We are just close friends, that is all.” You tried to excuse as you grabbed the letters out of her hand as you readily got a bag and hurriedly dumped all of your mail into it to keep anyone else from looking through it.  

“Yup, just close friends,” Leumeni did his best to deflect just as you heard Benny scream out a ‘What?!’ in horror and outrage. 

“What the hell?” You asked as Benny came storming out of that room. 

“Leumeni! Coravien! Come we need to go home! Now!” Benny demanded angrily in Marinai as she stormed out of the examination room before you went over to Dr. Chu and his wife. 

“What was that?” You asked them in Mandarin.

“She has the happy heartbeat too. Grevu’s snot made the seed from the sex she had the night before the Kamoba take root. His magic is protecting her babe just like yours, but until he lifts his magic, she has no choice but to bear the babe. Even now she is going to plead with him to lift it so she can kill it.” Mei answered as you gasped and covered your mouth with both hands as Sierge came over to you. 

“What is wrong with Benny? What are they saying?” Sierge asked you. 

“Uh, Sierge, you need to go back to the Palace of Windsor and stay with Benny and do not let Benny approach Grevu until she tells you exactly why she wants anything to do with him.” You advised him with a gesture to your belly as if you were stroking a very pregnant belly as Sierge’s eyes went wide when you made that gesture before he fled Buckingham Palace to chase after Benny.

[flowers-creativity]

Fic: Sweet Daughter Mine

Fandom:  The Musketeers Characters: Porthos, Marie-Cessette, original male character Warnings: None Summary: Even sweet little girls (and of course Porthos is adamant that his girl is the sweetest of them all) get in trouble sometimes.

Notes: Originally a fill for Musketeer March, vaguely covering either "Porthos" or "Favourite Character" and "Favourite AU", but well, it's May by now, so it gets to stand on its own.Children are pretty hard to write, yo!

AO3 link

Porthos looked up at the grey, nondescript building and scrubbed his hand through his hair uncomfortably, then let his hands fall down to tug at his suit jacket. He had managed to put on an outfit that was making him feel both over- and underdressed – or, no, it wasn't so much the outfit as the situation that was making him feel ridiculously nervous. Someone who faced terrorists, bomb threats, mobsters and a disgruntled Captain Treville on the regular should not be intimidated by a meeting with the principal of his daughter's school.

But he couldn't help it, schools just sent him back to the time when he'd been the one called to the office for whatever trouble he had gotten into in his illustrious career as an adolescent delinquent.

He sighed and gave his sleeves a last tuck before he squared his shoulders and marched towards the building. Hopefully, Marie-Cessette had good reason to be in trouble and hadn't stepped into his shoes with regard to petty crime. Not that she'd ever even know about that if Porthos had any choice in the matter.

He made his way to the office and gave his name to a kind-faced secretary. She did not smile but her look was sympathetic as she lead him into a small hallway leading to a closed door. Before it, two chairs were sitting side by side, and on one of them was his daughter.

“Papa!” Marie-Cessette cried out and jumped up to rush to him and give him a hug.

He returned it and smiled, glad to see that whatever was going on, she was fine, no sign of tears, ripped clothing or bruises. “Hi, little bug.”

“Papa, they--” she started to say but broke off when the door behind them opened.

A man stood in the door, critically eyeing Porthos and his daughter. After a moment, he said: “M. du Vallon? I'm principal Porchet. Please come in. You too, Marie-Cessette.”

Porthos nodded and followed him when he went back into the room. Inside, M. Porchet shook his hand and gestured to the two chairs set up in front of his large desk. Porthos took a seat and pulled Marie-Cessette onto the chair next to him.

They sat for a moment in uncomfortable silence, and Porthos had to suppress the urge to fidget. Next to him, Marie-Cessette was losing the same battle, tugging at the hem of her shirt not very unlike how he had tugged on his suit jacket earlier. Finally, M. Porchet started to speak: “I'm sorry to call you in during work hours but I really felt the need to address this situation with you in person.”

Porthos made a dismissive gesture. “No need to apologise. I've got a very understanding employer when it comes to family affairs,” he replied. Well, that and they were between assignments anyway, so work was slow and mostly involved paperwork that ended up being used as paper planes Aramis and he were throwing at each other across the room.

M. Porchet didn't look exactly pleased by that – he was probably a stricter employer – but nodded and continued: “Alright, then. Now, are you aware that your daughter has an ongoing feud with one of her classmates?”

Porthos frowned and looked sidewise at his daughter. “I know there's one boy who she's been clashing with before,” he said slowly, trying to remember what exactly Elodie had told him over the phone after she had been called in to see the principal before. “I think he's called … Christophe, I believe?”

M. Porchet nodded. “Christophe Faucher, that's correct. As this has been ongoing for some time, we have kept a close watch on the two of them. Children fight, it happens, but the level of animosity between your daughter and Christophe is worrisome.”

“Marie-Cessette,” Porthos said, using a moment where M. Porchet had to take a breath and not caring that he didn't seem to be finished yet. He could feel Marie-Cessette give a start at his side at her name being spoken and put a hand on her knee to calm her.

M. Porchet raised his eyebrows at the interruption. “I beg your pardon?”

“My daughter's name is Marie-Cessette.” He quickly looked at his girl to give her a smile. “I'm well aware that she's my daughter, so please give her the respect to call her by her name when speaking about her.” He returned the principal's gaze with a hard look, which he knew was hard to resist.

As predicted, M. Porchet looked away first.

He cleared his throat and then said somewhat stiffly: “Of course. Now, as I said, we were keeping an eye on the two of them. For the most part, they seemed to keep it to the occasional insult and argument, steering away from anything physical, so we left it at reprimands for inappropriate language and made sure they didn't spend too much time near each other. That is, of course, until the unfortunate glue incident last month ...”

Porthos pinched his lips and fought to keep back a growl. Elodie having to cut their daughter's hair by about a hand's length to remove the strands stuck together with superglue had indeed been unfortunate, and he'd hated not being there, not being able to hug her when she cried about losing her beautiful blonde curls. They had just grown back enough that they were brushing her shoulders again. Porthos thought that she'd looked absolutely adorable with that curly bob but he knew that Marie-Cesette had loved her long hair.

Out loud, he said: “Elodie – my wife – had told me all about that, yeah.”

M. Porchet nodded. “We kept a close watch on them afterwards, in case any retaliation were to take place. Christophe had been punished, of course. But things seemed to settle down again. Until today, when they got into a screaming match during lunch break. I'll spare you the details but I need to tell you that we are very concerned about some of the things your dau-- Marie-Cessette said during this argument.”

Porthos raised his eyebrows and looked at Marie-Cessette again who had her arms crossed over her chest and was staring intently at the floor. “Which were?” he asked.

“Among others, she claimed that you are a super-spy,” M. Porchet declared, and Porthos felt a whoosh of air leaving his lungs as if he had been punched. “Never mind that according to our files, you are a pharmaceuticals salesman.”

Porthos kept his face carefully neutral when he replied: “Marie-Cessette has a very lively imagination.” He ignored the hurt little “Papa!” whine coming from his daughter. “Was that all?”

“No.” The principal steepled his fingers. “She also told Christophe that you would hunt him down and that you would hold him over the edge of a roof until he apologised, and if he didn't, you would break every bone in his body, one after the other.” He fell silent and let the silence stretch before he continued: “Now, lies and tall tales are one thing. As you said, Marie-Cessette has a lively imagination. But threats of violence of that kind are something we are not willing to tolerate, M. du Vallon.”

Porthos directed a frown at Marie-Cessette who was still finding the floor extremely interesting. “I understand,” he said. “I can assure you that I will have a serious word with her about this.”

M. Porchet nodded. “I appreciate that. Since it was still only verbal, Marie-Cessette's punishment won't be too severe this time but I sincerely hope it will not happen again, or I would be forced to take more drastic measures.”

Porthos sat up straight and looked the principal in the eye, mustering his best look of absolute honesty. “I'll do my best to ensure it won't, as will my wife.” He waited a moment, then added: “Lessons should be over by now, so I can take my girl home now, right?”

M. Porchet looked at the clock on his desk, then said with a sigh: “Of course. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Let's hope it won't be necessary again.”

“Yeah, let's,” Porthos agreed. He stood and shook the other man's hand, then turned and held out a hand to his daughter. “C'mon, bug.”

She looked at him with something that was a cross between a pout and a scowl – he had no idea how she managed to do that, and how it could be so cute – but took his hand. “Goodbye, M. Porchet,” she said politely, despite the general air of annoyance she was projecting.

“Goodbye,” Porthos followed her lead almost sheepishly. They made their way outside, with Marie-Cessette smiling sweetly and waving at the secretary when they passed her.

Once outside, Marie-Cessette pulled her hand free and whirled to face him, again crossing her arms over her chest. “I don't have a lively imagination!” He almost thought she would stomp her feet but the glare she gave him was impressive enough.

“You have, little bug,” he returned.

“Not about the spy thing!”

Porthos sighed and dragged a hand over his face. “No, not about that,” he allowed. He had known that it might become a problem one day – he hadn't wanted to lie to his family about what he really did but it was hard to drive home the need of secrecy to a child. “But do you remember what I told you about bein' a spy? What's the most important thing?”

“Uh...” Marie-Cessette's glare melted as she thought. “That you're keeping everyone safe?”

“That, too. But I meant that a spy needs to be secret, that no one knows he is one,” Porthos explained. “Else I can't work anymore when everyone knows I'm a spy, darlin'. You can't go around and tell people about it.”

His daughter's face crumbled in dismay. “I'm sorry,” she said, stretching out her hands, and he acquiesced with the unspoken request and picked her up. She hugged her arms around his neck and hid her face in his shoulder. “Christophe said such stupid things about you, that you're a loser and just a stupid salesman who doesn't even have his own shop.”

Porthos couldn't suppress a snort of laughter at that. “He doesn't know much about pharmaceuticals salesmen, then,” he said, unperturbed. “I mean, would've been impressed if he did. But point is, let him say about me what he wants, bug. You know I've got a great job. That's enough, isn't it? Your classmates can think whatever about me.”

She peeked at him and then nodded against his shoulder.

“Good,” Porthos said as he turned towards the visitor parking space and started walking. “And now, about that threat ...”

“I know,” Marie-Cessette sighed, “I shouldn't have said that.”

“Damn right you shouldn't,” Porthos agreed. “How do you even come up with somethin' like that? Danglin' someone from the roof?”

His daughter was quiet, drawing patterns on his chest. Porthos tried to be patient but when no answer was forthcoming by the time he had reached his car, he poked her with his free hand. “Cat got your tongue?”

She shook her head. “No, but--” she looked up at him, “you're gonna be mad.”

Porthos frowned. “Why d'you think that, bug? I'm not gonna be mad at you.”

“No, not at me,” Marie-Cessette clarified, “but--- Uncle Aramis, he--”

Porthos groaned. “He told you about that?”

She just nodded, and he had to fight down the urge to faceplant on the roof of his car. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I promise I'm not mad. Okay, I'm a bit mad. But I promise not to yell at him, okay? I'll just tell him the same I'm tellin' you: Don't talk about things like that outside of home. And in your case, darlin': Don't threaten other kids, you understand? You can tell them I'll come and yell at them – no, wait, probably not that one, either. Just don't threaten them.”

Marie-Cessette could not suppress a giggle but then nodded, giving her best attempt to look serious. “I promise I won't, no matter how much of an asshat Christophe is being.”

Porthos laughed a bit desperately. “And where does that word come from?”

“Uh … Uncle d'Artagnan?”

Porthos gave in and slumped forward onto the roof of his car, bouncing his forehead lightly on the cool metal. “Shouldn't be a surprise,” he mumbled. He straightened up again and gave his daughter a glare. “We'll talk about that, too,” he promised her. “Lots of serious words to be had all around.”

She shrunk a bit under his glare and nodded.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. He unlocked the door and set her down in her seat, then rounded the car and got into the driver's seat. A quick check that she had buckled herself in correctly, and he was pulling out of the car park and turning the car towards home.

Where he would have to have some words with those brothers of his. Wasn't it fun to have kids? Especially the part where he was also parenting two grown men in their thirties ...

[exhaustedfander]

Of Birthday Cakes and Sentimentality

Here’s a fluffy (Slightly late) birthday fic for Logan, featuring Loceit! @coconut-cluster ‘s is wonderful loceit uni au content was really what got me into the ship in the first place.

a03 

word count: 1,755

Logan wakes slowly, the sunlight filtering in through the blinds casting stripes of shadow on the carpet. He glances to his side, vision blurry without his glasses, and frowns. The spot beside him is upsettingly empty. He feels along the sheet, realizing they’ve long since gone cold.

Logan reaches for his glasses on the bedside table, slipping them on and checking the time. 8:00 a.m. Curious. That’s far earlier than Janus is usually up on a Saturday.

His boyfriend is a firm believer that cuddling into the late morning should absolutely be considered self-care, and really, Logan isn’t one to challenge that notion. He might put up a fight from time-to-time, but it’s all for show and Janus knows as much. Logan can pretend he’s above cuddling all he wants, but as his boyfriend would say, he’s a dreadful liar.

Logan wonders what might’ve compelled Janus to rouse from his slumber so much earlier than usual, before noticing a sweet smell wafting through the apartment. This only raises more questions. What could Janus be making at this time of day that would smell so saccharine?

Logan rises from bed slowly, still bleary and comforted by the warmth of the duvet around him – but certainly missing the feeling of Janus against him. The hardwood is cool beneath his feet as he stands, the scent of baked-goods – yes, that’s definitely it – drifting through the air gaining in strength.

He glances at the mirror hanging on their bedroom wall, his hair a fright and pajamas still on, and Logan realizes he doesn’t care. It isn’t usually odd for someone to be comfortable not looking entirely presentable in their own home, but this is Logan, a man who practically lives in polos and neckties. He’s been told more than a few times by several people that he could stand to “loosen up.” While he’s not always the best at it, Logan can certainly try; it is his birthday, after all.

Oh. Wait – it’s his birthday. He’d completely forgotten. Likely, Janus remembered, though. And with the sweet smell coming from the other room, and the day of the year, that must mean…

Logan opens the door to look out across their open living and kitchen area to see Janus standing at a kitchen counter smeared with flour, a jar of crofters, and an array of baking ingredients around him.

Janus has never been one to bake, as far as Logan’s concerned. It’s not that he isn’t proficient in cooking, it’s just never been something he’s seemed particularly invested in. But here Janus stands, in his pajamas opening the oven and pulling out circular bakeware Logan’s certain they don’t own. The smell of vanilla is now detectable, and Logan can’t stop the smile from slipping onto his face.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying not to break Janus’s fragile concentration.  

A spoon clatters against the ground, Janus all but shrieking as he turns around to face Logan. Concentration be damned, it seems.

“You weren’t supposed to be awake yet!” Janus huffs, bending down to retrieve the spoon, dropping it in the sink.

“I wasn’t aware I was meant to be confined to our bed until you said otherwise,” Logan responds sarcastically, walking up to Janus.

Getting a better look at him now, Logan can see there’s flour smeared on his yellow pajama shirt and pants, their small kitchen rather cluttered. Just a few years ago, Logan would’ve sworn against sentimentality. He’s a man of logic, a man of intellect and focus. And yet… his time with Janus has worn down that stubborn belief that romanticism and he are separate beings.

Janus is a lot of things. Passionate, driven, cunning, affectionate to a point that Logan thought he’d never tolerate, nor grow to love. But right now he’s also making Logan a birthday cake at eight in the morning and Logan can’t help but feel the emotion well up inside of him.

“Happy birthday,” Janus says, moving to embrace him before remembering the mess he is. “I’d kiss you senseless, but –,” he gestures vaguely to himself. Logan shakes his head, the stubborn smile on his face refusing to leave.

“I don’t care,” Logan says, leaning down to connect his lips with Janus’s, his hands cupping either side of his face, thumb tracing along the faded scar on Janus’s left cheek. Janus sighs into the kiss, his hands settling on Logan’s waist. The two pull close to one another. The taste of vanilla mingles on Logan’s tongue, and he can’t help the laugh that bursts from him. Janus pulls away, eyebrows raised.

“What’re you laughing about?”

“Nothing,” Logan says, trying to bite back the laughter, and failing quite miserably, “It’s just – you taste sweet.”

“Well,” Janus says, tone matter-of-fact, “I needed to taste-test the batter, didn’t I? And, this way, you know your cake isn’t poisoned.”

“Ah, true. Unless, of course, you’ve developed an immunity to whatever you’ve poisoned me with.”

“Guess it’ll be a surprise then,” Janus says teasingly, before returning to finishing the cake.

“You really didn’t need to go to so much trouble, darling,” Logan says, watching as Janus stirs a bowl of white frosting that he must’ve been fiddling with a moment ago.

“It’s a cake, Logan. You act as if I’ve been slaving away. It’s the least I can do.”

“Yes, well, you woke up early. On a Saturday. And you’re baking… I don’t believe we own any bakeware.”

“I’m perfectly content with waking up a little early on your birthday,” Janus says pointedly, eyes fixed on the frosting he’s creaming. “And no, we do not own any bakeware. But Patton does, and I asked him to lend me it.”

“Janus –.”

“And, I had him explain the steps in great detail over the phone, as to not royally screw this up. I know I’m not always a master in the kitchen.”  

“I never said anything about your cooking skills,” Logan interjects. “Seriously, love. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Janus says with so much sincerity, Logan wonders if his heart might burst. “I’ll have you know, it’s a crofters filling.” Logan’s eyes light up at that.

“Well, that… does sound quite good.”

“Oh, does it now?” Janus asks teasingly, holding an icing-covered spoon to Logan’s mouth. “Taste this and tell me if you like it.” Logan obliges, sticking the spoon in his mouth and humming around it. Janus chuckles.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s delicious,” Logan says, moving to take another spoonful before Janus pulls the bowl from his reach.

“How about we save some for the actual cake, hm?”

“I suppose…”

“Go, on. Sit down,” Janus says, motioning towards the table, “The cake ‘ll be done in a minute.”

“Cake is hardly an appropriate breakfast,” Logan points out, earning a glare from his boyfriend.

“Allow me to remind you for the millionth time this morning, that it is your birthday,” Janus says, spreading the frosting with a knife over the top of the cake. “Cake for breakfast on the day of your birth is absolutely appropriate.” Logan scoffs.

“I can’t see why. There’s hardly anything special about today. It’s merely the anniversary of me being alive another year. I can’t understand why it’s such a big deal.”

“Hardly anything special?” Janus asks, slightly incredulously. “Hardly anything special, he says! Do you realize, that were it not for you being born, we never would’ve met?” Logan’s heart pangs at that.

“Janus.”

“And then where would I be? Who would I debate with into absurd times in the morning? Who would teach me about each and every constellation he knows about, so excited to share his passion? Who would I bully into going to bed at a decent time?” Logan tries to interject, but Janus isn’t having any of it, “Don’t you start. You may preach about circadian rhythm and the importance of going to bed at a decent time, but I’ve found you asleep at your desk far too many times now.”

“In all fairness,” Logan says, trying not to let the sentimentality well up in him, “I’ve also found you asleep on the couch, and at the table late at night a fair few times.”

“Well then, it seems we’re meant to take care of one another,” he says like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. As though it’s not achingly tender.

A slice of cake is slid in front of Logan.

“The point is, I love you. Let me make you a stupid cake, and have our friends over for a movie night,” Logan opens his mouth in protest, but Janus is quicker, “A very casual movie night. Just Patton, Virgil, Roman, and Remus and whatever movie of your choosing. Clue, perhaps?” Logan perks up at the mention of one of his favorite films, and Janus grins.

“Clue would be… nice,” Logan admits. Janus pecks him on the cheek.

“Then that’s what we’ll watch. Now, take a bite, the anticipation is positively killing me,” Janus drawls out dramatically, gesturing to the cake. Obliging, Logan scoops a piece of the cake with his fork, popping it in his mouth.

“Mmm,” is as dignified of a response as Logan cares to give, but Janus looks pleased with himself all the same.

“You like it?” Janus asks, already knowing the answer. Logan nods, grabbing at the collar of Janus’s shirt and pulling him into his lap. “Goodness, what’s gotten into you?”

“You were just giving a rather sappy declaration of love,” Logan explains, pressing his lips to Janus’s. “And, you made me a cake.” Another kiss. “With Crofters.” A kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And you’re having our friends come over for a movie night, for me.” A kiss. “And I love you, so very much, my dear.”

“I love you too,” Janus responds, seemingly happy with his place in Logan’s lap, “But I thought you didn’t care about your birthday?”

“I don’t,” Janus doesn’t believe that for a second, “But you rather seem to. And it’s kind of… nice,” Logan admits, voice soft, “To have you care about something so seemingly silly so much.”

“Oh, you think I care about you? Wherever did you get an idea like that?” Logan chuckles as Janus presses a kiss to his cheek, his face resting in the crook of Logan’s neck.

“I haven’t a clue.”

Logan could pretend he didn’t care about birthdays till the cows came home, but Janus would always call his bluff. And really, Logan can’t find it in himself to complain.

=+=

General Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

@elizabutgayer

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@reptilianwithscallions 

@justmeandmygayships

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[swiftgronmasterpost]

Glee Live Tour Part 4 - The ShirtGate Essay Dianna published to the felldowntherabbithole Tumblr

Inserting a cut because this thing is long

or skip Dianna’s gay panic and click here to keep reading the masterpost!

June 2, 2000

What does that day, month and year mean to you? President Bill Clinton used that particular day to declare ”Gay and Lesbian Pride Month”. Nine years later, on June 1st, President Barack Obama spoke to incorporate an even wider group. Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered citizens alike could all have this month for recognition, respect and appreciation. However, I am aware that not all minds meet equally about the rights and respect that we should pay to others. As each generation leaves their footprints, and paves the way for what is to come…to some, change is an impossible idea or action to put in motion.

You know what? Often, this unfortunate reality is because of learned behavior! As much as we may often preach that we like to speak for ourselves, or outside the box, how many times have you caught yourself, or someone you know repeating the thoughts of another before them? Sometimes without proper information? And how many times have you felt that perhaps further knowledge on an issue or subject matter might result in a different voice, a different understanding? Perhaps even going against the ideas they’ve learned, heard, or grown up around? We have the ability to fly planes, send astronauts into space, develop technology such as cellphones! Things that once were unfathomable. I can sit at this small computer and type this message. Once I push send, this message can be seen by anyone who’d like to engage, all across the WORLD.

As many of you know, we (the Glee cast) have been storming the country at whirlwind speeds to put on a forty-two show, month-long tour. It has been a constant reminder of why we do this. We’ve witnessed the impact our show has had, from the very beginning, to these moments, three years later. You LOVELY & AMAZING fans! Just indescribable. The love, affirmation, and dedication you provide! We see it all, value it all. Trust me, we do! On stage, the excitement that we absorb from your ball of energy brings our adrenaline levels to highs that often-times, we aren’t sure we can reach. Bottom line, we love you guys. And our crew! Without this diverse group of hard-working people, this venture would be impossible.

Yesterday was June 11th, and we were tackling our newest location, Toronto! We had finished our first concert of the day, and I was about to take a moment to relax before the second. On the way to our dressing rooms, I passed a stack of shirts lined up on the merchandise tables. The white T’s were modeled after shirts we wore in a performance set to Lady Gaga’s, “Born This Way.” This sparked an idea. And that idea ended up on stage.

Kindness moves mountains. Acceptance opens doors, makes room for change, diffuses misunderstanding. Every day, people commit hate crimes because of misunderstandings. Hate effects the target, and consumes the person behind the gun. It is crazy to realize that we have been in war for almost our entire existence on this planet. Many times for reasons of greed and hate.

Anyone that has experienced the death or abuse of a loved one can tell you that, “IT HURTS BEYOND EXPLANATION!!! AND WE SHOULD DO EVERYTHING IN OUR POWER TO MAKE ANY CHANGE POSSIBLE.” Raise your hand if you’ve spent nights crying yourself to sleep, raise your hand if you’ve felt as if you’d rather hide in bed all day than face the people that make you feel small or powerless! Raise your hand if you’ve felt as if you’d rather lie to people than tell them the truth about who you really are, because at least you wouldn’t be the victim of hateful behavior or prejudice! And raise your hand if lying feels almost as bad.

I was not raised in a family that accepted prejudice or hatred. For that, I thank my Mom and Dad each and every day. Look, we are human, we make mistakes. I will gladly shout from the rooftops that I AM NOT PERFECT. Nor will I ever be. But I can happily say that to my knowledge, I do not ever intentionally cause people pain. I love my family, my friends, my co-workers…and they all consist of girls AND boys. I do tell them that I love them. Yesterday, during our second show,  Instead of wearing my usual shirt during “Born This Way” I decided to wear one that said “Likes Girls”. It should actually have read, “Loves Girls”, because I do. The women in my life give me things that the men in my life can’t. And vice-versa. No, I am not a lesbian, yet if I were, I hope that the people in my life could embrace it whole-heartedly. And let me tell you, I can easily spill (quite comfortably) what I admire, respect and think is beautiful about any of the women in my life. Piece of cake!

Last night, I wanted to do something  to show my respect and love for the GLBT community. Support that people could actually see. Which is why I decided to change my shirt for the show. I happened to read a few comments that were posted on twitter. Many of you asked, “why?” This is my response. I am not asking for you to agree with what I am saying, but if you are listening, thank you. That is all I can ask. And a step further would be to take a moment to (honestly) answer the questions that I have raised. We can’t always put ourselves in someone else’s shoes. But we can try.

I am lucky to live in a place where I can wear almost anything that I want to express myself, and that jail is not a probable consequence. Which makes me feel as if I should exercise my right to do so every now and then. Think of the people that have died because of their passion and heartfelt hopes of change? So many good men and women. All because of an inherent wish for tolerance, love and support.

Our show celebrates the GLBT community. We are proud to be a part of something that embraces an often avoided topic. Hate is terrible, especially when we pass it down to a new generation of innocents. Recently, I heard a lament about San Francisco. How SFO just didn’t sound like a fun place to be, or visit, because that person wasn’t gay. Wait, really???? I wanted to laugh! But that would have been a response that wouldn’t have encouraged that person to be open-minded. To see that perhaps, their statement was foolish? Why won’t San Francisco be fun for you? Do you think the whole city is gay? Do you think they will judge you? Won’t feed you good food?  Perhaps they won’t let you have fun, the way THEY have fun?

Sadly, we’ve gotten letters from people who explain that they love the show but hate the gay story-lines. That we shouldn’t be polluting their children’s heads. To this I’d sometimes like to sarcastically reply, would you also like us to tell them that a stork is dropping off our offspring? That the sky is purple? That it is not practical to be true to yourself, because there are mean people in this world that will make them feel wrong for being honest? That instead of embracing themselves, they should lie to the world? THEY should be the ones being untrue and unhappy?

I believe that if you are bringing a child into the world, you should be willing to accept them in any reality. Whether they are Black, White, Asian, have four fingers, are disabled, gay….that the only wish should be for a happy and healthy baby. We are each other’s children. Unless someone has committed a violent or hateful act, why should we judge? We can so quickly resort to anger, often, the product of a whole other issue. Most often, an issue with our own self.

I understand that I am sitting behind the protection of this computer screen, in this hotel room, and to many I might sound “preachy”. Especially now that I have written an essay. I hope my intentions sound pure, and just. I speak, because I am passionate. I write with this passion because I know how it feels to be hurt, to be depressed, to not value yourself, or your feelings. If any of this has inspired or moved you, even just made you think….I encourage you to tweet or reblog a picture, quote, anything that you feel will continue to spread the love. And if any are interested in tracking the chain, perhaps visualizing the greater collective, include the hatch tag, #letlovein.

Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives. - C.S. Lewis

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. - Lao Tzu

Fortune and love favor the brave. - Ovid

AND remember that sometimes….

People need loving the most when they deserve it the least. - John Harrigan

To thine own heart be true. Many thanks for your time, your love, and the gift you’ve given me.

Sincerely,

Dianna Elise Agron

Click here to keep reading!

[nagitoandkokichioneshots]

Did you know that it took me the whole day to write for her because I just can’t help but type and type? huhu habsuajwna skip the backstory if its too long for you. Sorry for the late submission!🙏✨

Name: Naomi Hitsuji

----> Naomi means "pleasantness" in Hebrew while Hitsuji means "sheep" in Japanese.

Age: 18-19

Birthday: August 26th

Height: 5'7

Weight: 132 lbs

Talent: Ultimate Police Officer

S/O: Nagito Komaeda

---> Despite being a significant other, their bond is only platonic love. Nagito told her that he never have an older sibling nor a younger sibling, he told her he would never hope of having it all since they will just be affected by his luck cycle. Knowing this fact, Naomi assured him that she will treat him like a sibling. She is always been babied by her older brother so she wanted to offer affection. The fact that he was stuck in a torturous luck cycle that stole his family made her feel like he is deprived of love and affection. Though Nagito declined the offer, Naomi told him that he deserves it. But time past by, Naomi has been more motherly and comfortable with him- she just wanted to see him with a satisfied smile in his face.

Japanese VA: Nana Mizuki (Hyuuga Hinata from Naruto)

English VA: Danielle Judovits (Sumia from Fire Emblem)

Looks:

—-> Naomi has loose and wavy beige hair that reach through the bottom of her breast. She has lavender mono-lid eyes. Her outfit is really hard to express—I am not knowledgeable with fashion so lets just leave it there isnsjwjwn 😔

Personality:

———> Experiencing a man dominated nature for quite awhile, her cheerful, childish and annoying determination shredded into a more sophisticated, formal and gracious persona. She changed to prove to her older brother that she could be an independent and firm person, that she could carry the both of them even if they are bursted by the waves of sufferings.

———> She is a woman that has strong will and broad principles. Despite being in the age of 19, she is very motherly, independent and understanding with her coleagues–but she is still strict when it is really needed. Her good communication and knowledge is what made her deserving of the title "Ultimate Police Officer".

———> She is a firm believer of hope, that hope can overcome this surge of loss and pain. She believes that hope can help her brother, hope can help the Ultimates. Which is why she believes that Nagito has good intentions, despite his eyes swirling from despair, he believes in hope.

Strengths:

———> Her choice of words. Naomi could move a person with her words. She always told her co-leagues with great assurance that they will do great and she always say that everything takes patience and understanding.

———> Her honesty and sincerity. Even though she can be blunt, she could be someone to be trusted!

———> A mother figure. She has a strong passion when it comes to people who needs guidance counseling and always there when you need a word of advice, no matter how annoying you are she could tolerate.

———> Her knowledge. She knows many things when it comes to handling heavy guns, drills, methods and fire coaching even though she is just a police officer—especially in the killing game COUgh. She really is good when it comes to strategizing and cooperation like ??? 😳

———> Her reaction time, agile and defense. (inspiration for this one is Annie Leonhart ✨)

WEAKNESSES

———> Lost of strong intimacy (such as romance). She's not capable of being open when it comes to intimacy like that. Its too out of her reach and she had been deprived from "romance" already—even her honesty have limits and she wouldn't like a topic surrounding that. Of course! she had loved but she will never admit that because it makes her uncomfortable. If someone confessed their love to her, she'll walk away with a small apology. If you ever ask for an advice related to intimacy, just so you know you'll get nothing ✨But don't worry! it just take an effort of assuring her and you'll get what you want.

———> Strength, stamina and power. She had lived for years without the proper nutrition after her family's massacre, she have to endure small amounts of food, famines and floods. The only thing that stop this weaknesses for showing is her knowledge because even without strength, stamina nor power—her knowledge is her weapon. Its not like she doesn't have it! But like its much more weaker than her strengths? Jdnjwjsns

———> Her loss of humor. KYAAA its not like she doesn't know how to get a joke! but if you ask her to tell a joke she wouldn't answer at all. Her humor suddenly walks away after her older brother's obsession in death. Like—humor isn't how she comforts someone, she'll be so awkward andddd in return you'll get her embarrassed and laughing out of it. She will somewhat tell you that she doesn't have good humor.

———> Her rage. Oh no, if you tell her to open up because it will be healthy for her—you'll also experience her anger. She will tell you that she wants to kill that scum who have the burning audacity to tell Megami to kill their family, she was so happy and contented even though they were living in a rural area and then someone comes there to steal it? For what? To have fun? Smh.

———> Meddlesome. If you catch her feels and moved her heart, you better catch this too. She is scared to lose another person even though she was just interested at you even a tiny bit so expect her to come with you even if you just want to look at the night sky and she will probably answer "Well you might get killed though" its not like she doesn't trust you but you guys are at a killing game so– free bodyguard I guess?

———> She is the type of person to put all her feelings in a jar then once it didn't fit her heavy heart—she'll burst and overflow then becomes empty afterwards. The cycle ALWAYS repeats ^^;

Family members:

Yuichi Hitsuji (Father : deceased) ,

Sara Hitsuji (Mother : deceased),

Hiroto Hitsuji (Eldest brother : ???),

Megami Hitsuji (Eldest sister : deceased),

Kenzo Hitsuji (Middle child/brother : deceased),

Nagahi Hitsuji (youngest/twins with Naomi : deceased),

Naomi Hitsuji (youngest/twins with Nagahi : alive)

Backstory (I noticed that there is someone who I almost have the same backstory so I change the siblings and the wholeass plot. It was supposed to be Naomi's twin brother but I found this out so I thought maybe— 😳 but just so you know you can skip this because its so HECKIN long)

The Hitsuji family lived in a rural area where they lived their happiness at the fullest. Even though they were almost hanging low from poverty, they were able to preserve their glee in the household. One day, when the eldest brother Hiroto Hitsuji was teaching the clueless Naomi how to plant crops on one of their lands—a sudden massacre happened inside the household. Blood spurts on the walls , the smell of blood was so strong to his nose that he feel like baffling.

The crime was so sudden and it astonished the residence when it was announced, no one was able to witness any clue or any sound that resonated from the house. Investigators visited but to no avail, there aren't hints of another suspect than the people themselves inside the household. Hiroto Hitsuji was almost suspected from the crime if it weren't for Naomi to be there with him. The case haven't been solved yet, but it was so popular to the public eye, almost as if it is an 'entertainment'—her older brother was so angry when the death of his family was made as a game waiting to be unsolved by people.

After 2 weeks or so, it was declared that Megami, the eldest sister of the Hitsujis was the one who slaughtered the ménage and to avoid getting jailed—she committed suicide along with them. Hiroto believed that it wasn't true and that Megami isn't capable of committing when she was the one who is the most contented out of the family. He believed that someone might've hypnotized or ordered her to kill though the authorities didn't pay mind to his blabbering. Poor Naomi didn't know anything of the slaughter until she turned 12.

She was so confused, Hiroto had to lie to her just so she wouldn't feel so disturbed of the sudden disappearance. She knew it didn't add up—she was trained heavily by Hiroto and the residence have been avoiding her and her brother, she could even hear whispers on her back just as she pass by. Not only that, she could always see him suffering alone as he fixed the crops on the field. It was so lonely, it was so depressing, it was so helpless in the household when only the two members have been there. It took all tears and shame for him to tell her that the others have been long gone.

Years have passed, and Naomi noticed Hiroto's immense hope. He never pay mind to rumors nor let every insult come shoot him. When he saw her so depressed and suddenly lamenting about the massacre, he will assure her with the most gentle smile he could muster. Hiroto was able to have income because lady luck gave him fortune to be able to stand up again. Naomi thought his behavior was amusing and when she opened about how laughable he is, he'll just grin at her way. Naomi adored and loved her brother from the bottom of her heart, he always stand up and always put on a smile even though he was carrying such a heavy load on his shoulders. She was so happy to be blessed with a strong man as a brother.

In years full of effort and recovering, his success didn't falter. The two was able to move on a well-known city (which is where the Hope's Peak Academy has took place). He was able to marry a woman named "Yuna Minato" whom he have met when he was selling what he has in supply. The family started with laughs and obnoxious behavior around the house. Naomi promised to do something for the family which is why she entered the police forces. Yuna and Hiroto welcomed her support with open heart, almost as if there were Naomi's parents. Naomi's new family is what she was sworn to protect and she delivered her determination and motivation to the military that she was able to rise up and get scouted by Hope's Peak Academy. She turned to a very positive, independent and determined person when she was able to engage with new Ultimates. She was so open and so capable of her job as an Ultimate.

The unbelievable blessings that happened also altered to a very horrendous nightmare, Horito and his wife Yuna who was pregnant with their 4 months child have gotten to a car accident after getting crushed by a truck who loose control. The truck driver ran away while swarms of people invaded the car. The family that Naomi have sworn to protect was hit by a wave of bad luck. To her surprise, Horito was able to survive the car accident but his wife and their child have died.

It resulted for Horito to fall in a pit full of self-loathing, he despised himself for never thinking. He thought that the only way he could give his apology with is his own life—its not like he need it anymore, its so pathetic anyways. He was placed on the mental hospital two months after the accident because he was spotted trying to die in public places, spotted by Naomi overdosing and etc. The admirable brother that Naomi rejoiced for, has finally broke and bursted from his heavy load of anger and sadness. With swirls and loops of despair, Horito cannot pass a day without crying and starving himself as he absorbed all the guilt of loosing another loved one with his reckless decisions. He told Naomi that maybe, just maybe—this was the curse of the Hitsuji family.

The hurt and fear she felt when Horito looked at her with contorted irritation and despair, when he yelled that this worthless and time wasting life shouldn't be tolerated anymore—that all he had was just false hope. She tried to maintain her composure and tell him to calm down because he is not alone, that she was still here with him. Her paranoia crept up to her as if she looked away, Horito will die the next second. Naomi can never exceed the pain if Horito died and leave her here. She wasn't able to protect the people she cared about, and thats what made her feel so drowned on doses of guilt. She bargained that this time she will carry for the two of them. Just like what Horito did when she was younger, she put a firm faith on hope. She believed that hope can stop this cycle of torture, she believe that hope can change her brother's self-loathing–it just needs some patience. She changed the childish personality of hers to a more sophisticated one, she wanted to prove him that she could carry his load.

Even though she said that, she can never resist fate. As if fate hated the Hitsujis forever, Naomi was transported to a killing game. Leaving Horito to suffer from loneliness and he secretly died after the fire on the mental hospital. He was condemned to ashes with his undying despair-filled life.

HEADCANNONS

-Naomi loves expressing her feelings on a letter, she would definitely put sticky notes on the head of her bed filled with rants and motivational poems!

-Naomi engages alot with Nagito because he reminds her of Hiroto. Like even the luck cycle is almost the same? If ever Naomi opened up about it, Nagito will prolly think that her brother has a luck cycle like him too.

-If Chiaki ever needs a gaming partner, she'll call on Naomi since she knew that she has good reaction time and really good when it comes to strategizing. Naomi will be a very great gaming partner!

-Akane will definitely challenge Naomi if she ever got reminded of Naomi's talent. But only for her to get disappointed because well—Naomi doesn't have that good of a strength at all.

-I really headcanon that Naomi and Nekomaru would be besties or like the mother and father of the group hmhmhm just a thought-

-Naomi didn't know that Horito is dead, which is why she had been believing at hope to something that would never be bound to happen.

AAAA THIs was 2467 words like emmmm, chile- anyways I am sorry its so long wjdnwjwj.

Gina: Welcome to OC fest, Naomi! My name is Gina, the Ultimate Philanthropist. This may sound a bit weird, but I never met a police officer before. But I bet it’s a super cool job. It’s so nice to know the safety of everyone here is in the hands of someone as hopeful as you!

Yukari:..............Gina, you’ve been spending WAY TOO MUCH time with the awesome Nagito

Gina: *blushes* Sorry.....but thank you for taking care of him, by the way. I appreciate it

Yukari: You ever need to awesomely vent about your unawesome trauma, we are all ears! And maybe an awesome game of chess with Oresama can cheer you up *smirks* Gotta warn you though, Oresama never lose~

[the-witty-pen-name]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Loki x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Summary: When Loki learns the traditions of Valentine’s Day, he asks you to be his Valentine- and reluctantly takes advice from Steve Rogers. 

Warnings: none; just fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Thank you to @squadleaderchase​ for the suggestion! This was so fun to write!

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

I recommend listening to Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley towards the end of this imagine!  

There is also a female reader version of this fic, available here!

“Can’t Midgardians have a holiday that doesn’t involve such a grotesque display of… red?” Loki asks walking into the living room of the Avengers compound. Loki arrived at the compound a few weeks before Christmas and so far, he’s experienced two Earth holidays: Christmas and New Year’s. Of course, Tony had picked the theme for both parties to be elaborately red and gold- he claimed the fact that it matched his suit was merely a coincidence.

“Just wait until next month,” you reply casually, your eyes not leaving the brief you were reading while you sat cozied up in one of the large armchairs. “I think you’ll like St. Patrick’s Day much more… color scheme wise at least.”

Loki looked up curiously at the hearts of all shades of red and pink Natasha had hung up to decorate the Avengers’ living quarters. She had gone to visit Clint’s family and his kids spent hours making Valentines and decorations out of construction paper and glitter. Loki looked almost puzzled at the lopsided hearts that hung from the ceiling on transparent line so they looked like they floated mid-air.

“Perhaps I might,” he mumbled to himself, the lovesick aura of his surroundings making him slightly disgusted. “Though I suppose I find your rituals as bizarre as you’d find on Asgard.”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled in response to his thinking out loud. It was rare that the compound would be this quiet. It was a Friday evening and in the middle of a team meeting earlier today, Tony declared exhaustedly that everyone needs to start the weekend early and dismissed everyone despite Steve’s protests. You weren’t sure where everyone else went and you didn’t particularly care- enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You didn’t mind Loki’s company. He was a little aloof but overall, you found him more to be misunderstood than anything else. He wasn’t like Thor and sure, he had a very trouble ridden past to downplay it- but he’s confided in you all it wasn’t entirely his doing. Out of everyone living at the compound, he probably had grown the closest to you, or as close as Loki would allow himself to be to someone.

“What even is this holiday?” Loki asked, pulling his attention from the decorations to where you sat, binder in your lap. You looked up and closed the brief, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of where you sat.

“Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” you say looking back over to him, meeting his eyes. “I mean overtime the traditions and how we celebrate have changed but it’s originally the day meant to honor St. Valentine and commemorate his death. There’s a lot more to it than that and there’s all different of different origins, but now it’s more like a day where you celebrate love, because he was the patron Saint of Love.”

Loki nods, liking the idea of this holiday much more than New Years already. He didn’t mind Christmas, but the elaborate parties made everything not very appealing to him. You can’t blame the god for not having a good time at parties where every guest fears him or hates him. He walks over and takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs. He was intrigued enough to continue the conversation and ask you more questions. “What are the traditions?” He asks curiously.

“Traditionally, you would ask someone to be your Valentine, and that’s the person you want to spend the day with,” you answer with a small shrug, trying to explain a holiday you’ve never had to explain before. “Some people have it easy and they ask their significant other, and if you don’t have one, you ask someone you’re romantically interested in to be your Valentine. Then you give each other gifts, like chocolates or flowers, anything really that’s romantic and you go out on a date, like a nice dinner but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the basic gist.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” Loki said, mulling over your explanation. “You’ve been helpful, as always. Tell me, who’s your Valentine?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. The only time you really celebrated was when you had been with someone. You’d never really participated otherwise. You planned to just spend the night alone or with Nat if she also didn’t have plans and probably watch a movie- most definitely Pride and Prejudice.

“Shame,” Loki said with a tsk. “Perhaps, if you would be interested, you could be my Valentine?”

“Really?” you ask, honestly surprised.

“I actually like the idea of the day,” Loki shrugged. “And I don’t know many people, people seem to hate me on this planet- no idea as to why. You’ve always been kind to me, and you are the most tolerable person I’ve encountered on this planet.”

“That’s oddly very kind of you,” you say with a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiments. Um, yes. I’d be happy to be your Valentine.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Splendid. I’ll ask Thor to help me plan something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smile, picking up your paperwork again as Loki heads off to find his brother.

***

“Brother,” Thor’s voice echoed in the training room. “Spar with me?”

“As much as I would love to,” Loki said sarcastically, “I need your help with something I need to plan.” Loki walked over to the side of the mat where Thor had been training with Captain Rogers.

“Plan what?” Captain Rogers asked curiously. It was an innocent enough question but Loki took it as Rogers insinuating his distrust in him. Of course, Loki can’t blame the man but it did rub him the wrong way.

“If you must know Captain Rogers, I’m making plans for this upcoming Valentine’s Day,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure since you have quite the active love life recently, your words of wisdom are probably of infinite value.”

“You can learn a thing or two from me,” Steve retorted as he put the punching bag beck into place. “But I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage without you,” Loki scoffed. He turned his attention back to his brother. “I need help to determine where I should take (y/n) and what I should get for a present.”

“(y/n) agreed to this?” Thor asks, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Rogers kept his mouth shut, deciding to see where this conversation will go before

“Yes, brother. I asked (y/n) to be my Valentine as stated by tradition and they said yes.”

“Ah! Good for you, brother!” Thor exclaimed, happily. “I’m glad you’re immersing yourself in the Midgard culture.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki waved him off, “Now, please, tell me what I should do.”

“I’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day,” Thor says with a shrug and a sympathetic look. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore the culture. Every time I’m on this planet I’m a little busy preventing its destruction. Perhaps Rogers can help you?”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. He avoided Rogers as he knew the man had such a smug look on his face. Loki refused to give him the satisfaction. However, he realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. Rogers not only knew what to do, but he was also close friends with you. He quickly realized if he wanted to celebrate with you properly, he’d need to rely on the infamous super soldier.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said with a charismatic smile, turning back to the man. “I wholeheartedly apologize for my lack of… social niceties. If you’d be willing to help me, to ensure your dear friend enjoys the holiday, I would be sincerely grateful.”

“Only because of (y/n),” Rogers says skeptically, waving a finger at Loki. “They deserve to enjoy their time and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you screw up their evening.”

“What a loyal friend.”

Years later, the Avengers would still talk about the fact Loki cared about you so much, he sought out advice from Captain America and Thor. And as Captain America said, he helped Loki with every last detail and Steve never let Loki forget it.

***

Loki had told you that he’d come to your room to get you at 6 o’clock Sunday evening. He wore clothes he had picked out, black dress pants, a white button-down shirt and shiny, black dress shoes. He had kept the last button of the shirt unbuttoned and he had rolled the sleeves up, a styling tip he had gotten from Thor. He had his long hair gelled back and tamed, ignoring Captain Roger’s horrible suggestion for a haircut. He felt very weird not wearing any green, but he took the advice he was given on his ensemble.

You were just putting on your shoes when he knocked at your door Sunday promptly at 6pm. Of course, Loki would be very punctual. You gave yourself one more quick once more in the mirror in your room before heading to answer the door.

You kept your appearance simple, sticking to how you usually styled your hair. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly opened the door, your jacket in hand.

“Wow,” you say with a grin, when you take in Loki’s appearance. “You look very nice.”

“You look stunning,” Loki said, his eyes widening, taking in your appearance. The compliment made you have butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with false confidence. Underneath, you were a nervous wreck as you took the arm that he extended to you.

“So,” Loki began to walk down the hallway with you. “Apparently, this planet has something called reservations, and anyone who tries to get one a few days before Valentine’s Day is a “moron,” according to a very rude young man I had the pleasure of speaking with- the first time using a phone too on top of that. So, I hope you don’t mind if the evening is a little… makeshift.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you reassure him. You feel him relax slightly. You found how hard he was trying so endearing.

Where else did he bring you but just down the hall to the living room. At night with the lights dimmed, combined with Natasha’s homemade decorations, it actually looked quite beautiful. He had decorated with an eclectic array of candles as well that covered most surfaces of the room. It also looked like he had swiped every throw pillow in the whole compound and had them arranged the coffee table in the center of the room.

“Did you do all of this?” You ask in awe.

“Yes,” he replied, just watching you. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I had to make my own version of advice I received,” he disclosed to you. You sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table, you kicked off your heels and he did the same with his shoes. “Captain Rogers said- and I’m trying my best to quote verbatim, ‘You need to show a special someone a good time if you care about ‘em . You gotta take ‘em to dinner and dancing.’” He even mimicked Steve’s voice perfectly. It made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you subjected yourself to Steve for me, I’m touched,” you smiled. “I mean I love Steve,” you continue, “But I can’t imagine you too being best friends anytime soon.”

“No, I suppose we probably won’t be,” Loki chuckles.

“I hate to point it out,” you continue, “but I think you missed both the dinner part and the dancing part of that plan.” Loki smirked and when you blinked, he transformed the whole room.

“Did I?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised. You gasp, looking around the room you were now in. You knew it was an illusion, but it felt very real. The atmosphere, the breeze coming in from the large bay windows that weren’t there before. The coffee table now a table now one of many dining tables in an incredibly high-end restaurant. The table had food, and a bottle of wine. You were stunned. There was a live band and other couples in other tables and out on the dancefloor.

“Loki?” You exclaimed, looking around at your new surroundings. It was amazing. You couldn’t believe the magic right before your eyes. Of course, you knew it was just one of his tricks, but it felt so incredibly real. You picked up your fork and took a bite of the food in front of you. It was incredible, you questioned if you were even eating.

“It’s real,” Loki said, like he could read your mind. Honestly, he had only just anticipated your next question. “I made it. Well, I made it with Friday’s supervision.”

“It’s fantastic! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just for me.”

“Sweetheart, you are very much worth it- worth much more than this,” he responded casually, throwing in the term of endearment to see how you’d react. He caught the way it made you smile.

You continued to talk for a little while, and shared stories. You were worried that compared to his life on Asgard, he’d find your stories incredibly boring and mundane. It seemed to be the opposite. His attention was only on you and he held on to every word you said. He created this elaborate setting just to keep you the center of his attention.

“Should we dance?” He asks suddenly, a glimmer in his eye. You looked down apprehensively.

“I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to insist.

“Do you actually not want to dance, darling? Because if so, I will not bring it up again,” he says earnestly, “But, if you’re saying no because you’re afraid I’m going to judge you, I honestly can promise you I would never dream of doing so.”

You give it another moment to ponder over his words. You were taken aback at how well he seemed to know how you were thinking. You let out a sigh of defeat, and smile. “I’d love to,” you reply.

He stands up and offers you his hand. His smile is enough to make you weak at the knees. You take his hand and he leads you over to the dancefloor as the band starts playing its next song. “Does that singer sound like Elvis?” You ask, the small glitch in the illusion throwing you off for only a moment.

“I don’t know who that is,” Loki says with a laugh. He pulls you in close and rests one hand on the small of your back and the other grasps your hand close. You wrap your other arm around his shoulder. You are both pressed up incredibly close to one another. You rest your head on his chest comfortably, and you can’t see how much the action makes his whole face go red. Guiding your movements together, it mostly just swaying in place. The steps were small, and with the music playing for the two of you.

“This place is incredible,” you sigh happily looking up at him. “But I think I liked the first place a little better.”

He nodded in agreement and you got to watch a green hue encompass the walls of the restaurant as they almost melted away, and everything around the two of you just fade away. The sconces on the walls, revealed themselves to be the candles that cluttered the living room and the couples evaporated with the green mist. The table you had both sat at, turned back to the coffee table but the empty plates remained. The elaborate statues that surrounded the room turned into the furniture you knew well, and then the live band faded away to reveal Steve’s record player indeed playing a 45 of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

When the room finished revealing its true appearance to you, you laid your head back on Loki’s chest and mumbled that now it was perfect. He smiled to himself, thinking about how without a doubt in his mind, Valentine’s Day is his absolute favorite holiday on Midgard. He now couldn’t believe this reality was real. If he wasn’t holding you, he’d pinch himself. You were here, with him, in his arms, dancing in the middle of the living room on this godforsaken planet.

“(y/n)?” he whispered softly as the song was coming to an end.

“Mhmm?” You responded, your eyes closed, really just basking in the feeling of being so close to him and the smell of his cologne.

“Will be mine?” He asks carefully, remembering the phrase from Captain Roger’s advice. That phrase apparently being very important if today went well and he wanted to ask you to “go steady.” You chuckled softly, hearing Steve’s influence in the phrase.

“I would love to,” you say with a shy smile looking back up to him. He beams, incredibly happy you said yes. Swept up in his emotions, he swiftly leans down and presses his lips to yours capturing them in a passionate first kiss.

“Oh gross!” You hear someone exclaim, making you both pull away. It’s Tony- who was currently holding his side in pain as Pepper elbowed him in the side.

“You really had to do that?” she chastised him, rolling her eyes and giving an apologetic look to you and Loki before pushing Tony down the hallway to give you both your moment back, as sullied as it had become thanks to Tony.

“I never gave Rock of Ages permission to be… lovey dovey in my building! (y/n) you can do so much better than that greaseball!”

“I’m so sorry,” she said embarrassed by his outburst, ushering him out as quickly as possible.

Loki turns his head back to you, immediately after they are out of view. “Where were we, darling?” He smirks, pulling you in for another kiss.

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: Muslim Culture and Character: Embracing The World: THE TWO ROSES OF THE EMERALD HILLS:

TOLERANCE AND DIALOGUE

Dialogue means the coming together of two or more people to discuss certain issues, and thus the forming of a bond between these people. In that respect, we can call dialogue an activity that has human beings at its axis. Undoubtedly, everyone is rewarded according to their sincerity and intention.

If people direct their actions with sincerity and with good intentions, then they may be winners even if others should consider them losers. The Prophet of God said: “Deeds are judged by intentions,”[1] and he emphasized that the intention of the believer is more important than the act itself. If the deed is founded upon good intentions, it will turn out well. So, whatever one may do, one must first be sincere in one’s intentions and seek the approval of God. Thus one should not ill-judge or slander the ties that are being established between various groups in the name of love, dialogue and tolerance.

Society cannot endure more tremors after having suffered so many wounds and after having been shaken so many times. If anti-democratic concentrations of power become the unshakeable burden of this nation and logic and judgment are supplanted through the power and means available to these concentrations, then this noble nation might not be able to recover again. As a result of such a calamity, this heaven-like land may be pushed 15 or 20 years back. It is possible that we might lose some things, that we might long for these lost things, even if they were to be among those things that we criticize today. In that respect, if we start our efforts for dialogue with the belief that “peace is better” (Al-Nisa 4:128), then we must demonstrate that we are on the side of peace at home and abroad. Indeed, peace is of the utmost importance to Islam; fighting and war are only secondary occurrences which are bound to specific reasons and conditions. In that respect, we can say that if an environment of peace where all can live in peace and security cannot be achieved in this land, then it would be impossible for us to do any good service for society or for humanity.

Misconceptions about Islam

If we approach the issue from a different perspective, Muslims have from time to time been misunderstood and as a result they have been subjected to pressure and insults. We have even witnessed Muslims being deprived of their most natural and basic rights, for example their right to work. This oppression that believing people has been subjected to is executed in the name of virtues, like humanism, human rights, generosity, love, and tolerance; these are in fact characteristics of Islam. Yet, it is these very characteristics and virtues that are being used against people who believe and these concepts are being exploited. Always there has been this basic attitude, an attitude that is subtle and deceitful, on the part of those who do not want to give room to Islam and Muslims to exist, either here or abroad. Things that have been claimed are not true; a Muslim can never be a bigot. Even if some people with such characteristics may have appeared within the Islamic community, it is unthinkable to conceive of all Muslims as being distanced from understanding and tolerance. Indeed, to this day what harm have the Muslims done and what evil have they committed and against whom? Despite their good intentions, some people have always been falsely stereotyped and have been weighed up on faulty scales; they have become the scapegoats for various accusations in the name of love, tolerance, freedom, and democracy. Despite being at the receiving end of all these false accusations, real Muslims never injure anyone and satisfy themselves merely by stating the fact that they are not the way they have been imputed to be. Still, a certain group has never ceased to attack them. Indeed, beauty has always sprung from the pure and blameless souls of the Muslims and the holy and exalted sources that are in their hands. It cannot be any other way; in the Qur’an, the Sunna, and in the pure and learned interpretations of the Great Scholars there is no trace of a decree or an attitude that is contrary to love, tolerance or dialogue in the sense of meeting with all, and declaring and expressing our emotions or thoughts. We cannot conceive of a religion that wills the good of all and who calls all—with no exception—to salvation, as being otherwise. The following verses in the Glorious Qur’an express this truth perfectly:

And if you behave tolerantly, overlook, and forgive, then verily God is Forgiving and Merciful. (at-Taghabun 64:14)

God does not forbid you, regarding those who did not fight you on account of religion and did not drive you out of your homes, to show kindness and deal with them justly. (Al-Mumtahana 60:8)

Tell those who believe to forgive those who do not look forward to the Days of God; in order that He may recompense each people according to what they have earned. (Al-Jathiya 45:14)

Indeed, when we look at the Qur’an we see that it is molded in love. In that respect, believing hearts must reclaim these beauties which are already ours, changing the negative image of Muslims. This negative image has been fed to the world and now we must once more communicate the essential facet of Islam to those who are presumed to be civilized, using the principle of “gentle persuasion.”

Let there be endless thanks to the Excellent Just One who feeds us with His bounty for the devotees of truth and heroes of love who have been carrying messages of love, tolerance and dialogue all over the world and who are trying to build the “new image of the Muslim” with hearts full of love.

Seeking the Approval of God

I would like to stress the fact that Muslims will lose nothing by employing dialogue, love, and tolerance. Muslims continuously seek the approval of God; this is the greatest gain of all. In that respect, things that may appear as losses to some people are seen as gains by Muslims, while certain other events may actually be detrimental even when they appear to be lucrative. Moreover, we have no doubts concerning Islam, its holy book the Qur’an or its most glorious representative, the Pride of Humanity, peace and blessings be upon him. We know that Islam will certainly continue on the path that leads to the future despite all obstacles; every subject of the Qur’an is proven by reason; it is a book that is strong enough to solve all the problems of the future. The Prince of the Prophets, a man about whom Bernard Shaw said, “He solves all problems the ease of drinking coffee,” was sent to humanity in order to present the solutions for all of its problems until Judgment Day. As in previous centuries, the problems of our age and the coming ages, which seem to be far removed from a sound solution, will be solved by the architects of hearts and mind who base their solutions on these holy sources.

Indeed, we do not need to have any worries as we believe that the illuminating expressions and statements of the Holy Qur’an and our Prophet offer lasting solutions to a myriad of problems. In my opinion, those who are equipped with these torches will suffer no loss, with the help and bounty of God, wherever they may go in the world and with whomever they may enter into dialogue. Thus, there is no cause for concern. The important fact here is that we should understand the sources that we possess, and we should employ them as necessary. Moreover, we should not abuse them by associating them with our own faults, our bodily or earthly desires. With their assistance and guidance we should seek only the approval of God and the afterlife.

Indeed, just as we have not even the slightest doubt concerning the Qur’an and the Prophet of God and just as we have no doubts concerning their justice, there is no reason why anyone should have doubts about us. But, if there still are some people who are frightened due to groundless fears, they will only be those people who are worried about the reliability of the dynamics and sources on which they rely.

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Calling the Tribes to Islam, the Allegiances of Aqaba and Migration to Madinah

Medina and its People

Medina had become “the center of Islam” after the migration of the Honorable Messenger. Therefore, it would be useful to give concise information about Medina of that time and its people.

Medina was regarded as one of the important cities of Arabian Peninsula in those times, as it still is in our day. It has a valley with a quite wide area. The valley is all surrounded by mountains. Its climate is favorable, and its soil is fertile. It has got beautiful weather, cool and abundant water. It receives more rain than Mecca.

The city was called “Yathrib” until the migration of the Messenger of Allah. It is said to have taken this name after the Amaliqan called Yathrib, who was the first settler of the place. However, the Prophet disliked this name because it meant “sinister” and changed it to Medina. Although it was called “Medinatu’n-Nabi” for a while, it began to be called by the name Medina alone later. Historians record that Medina has got ninety-four names, mentioning them all one by one. 

Apart from Muslims, there were Jewish people and Christians residing in Medina, too. In this sense, the city was highly populated. It is assumed that the city population in that time was about ten thousand.

Muslims in this city were from Aws and Khazraj tribes. As it is in the nature of Arabs, disputes, fights and collisions followed one another between these two tribes, which generated from two brothers named Aws and Khazraj. The last one of these civil fights, Battle of Buath, had continued for a hundred-and-twenty years until it ended five years ago before the migration of the Prophet. In this bloody battle, the most honorable warriors of both sides were either killed or left disabled. The immigration of the Messenger of Allah took place at that time when the Ansar (people of Medina) were in this pitiful situation.

With the immigration of the Prophet, the enmity between these two tribes developed into brotherhood and love. Resentment and discontent came to an end entirely. Undoubtedly, heroic legends told by poets and memorized by women and children from both sides, which tell about how this enmity of a century turned into brotherhood is a gift blessed upon our dear Prophet from Allah, the Glorious. 

Hazrat Aisha says:

“The day of Buath is a day which Allah prepared for His own Messenger, and as a result of this battle, the Messenger of Allah (pbuh) migrated to Medina. Before the migration, the unity of Aws and Khazraj, which had fought each other, had been disrupted; their elite people had been killed and wounded. Because of this miserable situation, Allah prepared this day for the Prophet (pbuh) so that Ansar, who had fought each other, would convert to Islam.” 

Jews living there were members of three tribes: Bani Qaynuqa, Bani Quraiza and Bani Nadr…

Christians held the smallest portion of the population. They could not tolerate the rapid spread of Islam throughout Medina and left Medina after a short time. These Christians, who fought against Muslims in the war of Uhud, took refuge in Byzantine later.

As for the political life of Medina, it was at a primitive level at those times. Tribal lifestyle still prevailed. Just like that of the polytheist Arabs, each tribe of Jews were regarded a community on its own. They did not obey any other authority than their own chiefs.

A lifestyle which was not familiar with the notion and practice of equality was adopted at that time. For instance, the blood money paid to weak tribes was half the blood money paid to strong and powerful tribes. Community life was deprived of laws. Arbiters were appointed when necessary and judgments were made based on those arbiters’ personal decisions and views.

The number of literate people was quite few.

So, our reverend Prophet migrated to such a city which we have told roughly about in geographic, political and social terms. He had important missions ahead and a lot of difficult situations to be solved awaited him.

Conversion of Abdullah B. Salam to Islam

Abdullah Ibn Salam, who was from the progeny of Prophet Joseph, was one of the prominent scholars of Medina Jews.

He had learnt a lot of things from his father Salam, who was a great scholar, including the Torah and its interpretation. Moreover, his father told him about the prophet to come in the last days of the world, his attributions, signs and what he would do. He also said to his son “If he (the last prophet) comes from progeny of Aaron, I will pay homage to him. Otherwise, I will not.” Salam had died before the Prophet came to Medina.

Abdullah Ibn Salam was also one of those who heard the voice of the Jew who gave Muslims the happy news of the reverend and supreme Messenger’s arrival to Medina and, he could not help saying “Allahu Akbar!”

His aunt, upon hearing this, scolded him saying, “May God not let you find what you seek! I swear by God, you would not be happier if you heard Moses was coming!”

And Abdullah said: “O aunt! I swear by Allah, the one who is coming is his brother! He is a prophet, too, just like him.”

In return, his aunt asked: “So, is this the prophet who was told us to come before the end of the world?

Abdullah answered: “Yes…” And then she said: Then, you are right to behave like this!” 

Abdullah Ibn Salam went to see the reverend and supreme Messenger when he honored Medina with his arrival and when he saw the shining, blessed face of the Messenger, he said to himself: “There is no lie in this face! There can be no fraud in this face!” 

His Question to the Prophet and His Conversion to Islam

The Honorable Prophet was a guest at Hazrat Abu Ayyub al-Ansari’s house.

Abdullah Ibn Salam went there to visit the Prophet and asked him some questions. When he received answers in compliance with the Torah to his Torah-based questions, he said the sentence of Shahadah and converted to Islam. Then, he said: O Messenger of Allah! Jewish people are slanderers and liars. When they find out that I converted to Islam tomorrow, they will make up many lies about me and slander me. Before my conversion is heard by them, ask them about me and have my place confirmed!”

The reverend Prophet let him hide somewhere, invited some of the notable people of Jews and said to them: “O Jewish community! You know very well that I am a prophet sent by Allah! I have come with the true religion; Convert to Islam!”

The Jews responded, repeating the same sentence three times: “We do not know whether you are a prophet or not!”

After that, the Honorable Messenger asked: There is among you someone named Abdullah Ibn Salam. What kind of a person is he?      

The Jews witnessed saying: He is a decent son of a decent father among us. Both he and his father are the most virtuous and most knowledgeable of us.

The Messenger of Allah asked: “What would you say if Abdullah Ibn Salam converted to Islam?”

The Jews said: “God forbid! Ibn Salaam would never convert to Islam!”

The Prophet asked the same question three times.

And they repeated the same answer of refusal.

Upon seeing this, the Reverend and Supreme Messenger called out to Abdullah Ibn Salam: “O Ibn Salam! Come out!”

Abdullah came out of where he was hiding and declared that he converted to Islam, saying

اَشْهَدُ اَنْ لَٓااِلٰهَ اِلَّا اللّٰهُ وَاَشْهَدُ اَنَّ مُحَمَّدًا رَسُولُ اللّٰهِ  And he invited Jews to convert to Islam by saying: “O Jewish community! Fear Allah! Accept what you have been given! I swear by Allah that you also know that he is the prophet whose name and attributions you find written in the Torah.” 

However, Jews said “You are lying! You are the most evil son of the most evil father among us!” and blackened him making up various faults and misdeeds about him.

Abdullah b. Salam said: O Messenger of Allah! This is what I was actually afraid of! Have I not told you they are cruelpeople, liars, sinners and slanderers? I was right!

The reverend Prophet let the Jews leave his presence.

Abdullah Ibn Salam returned his home. Upon his call to Islam, his all household and his aunt converted to Islam. 

Although some of the notable Jews tried to make Abdullah Ibn Salam leave Islam with various intrigues and words, they failed.

A lot of Jewish scholars converted to Islam and persevered living as Muslims sincerely, following Abdllah b. Salam. And Jewish scholars who did not convert to Islam began to sound off saying: Only the evil ones among us paid homage to Muhammad! If they were decent, they would not have left their ancestors’ religion.”

Thereupon, Allah the Glorious stated the following in the honorable verse He sent:

“Not all of them are alike: Of the People of the Book are a portion that stands (For the right): They rehearse the Signs of God all night long, and they prostrate themselves in adoration.” 

Polytheists Threaten

Seeing that the Prophet and Muslims had a free and peaceful life in Medina, polytheists felt very annoyed and started to worry.

They did not want to leave them alone in Medina. They wanted to put the strategy of “keeping people away from the Honorable Messenger of Allah”, which they adopted in Mecca, into practice in Medina as well. For this reason, they sent two letters as a memorandum, one after the other, written in harsh, threatening language, to the Ansar who promised to protect the prophet. In those letters, the Ansar were asked to quit protecting the Prophet and otherwise, they were told to be prepared for anything that might happen to them.

However, these two memorandum letters by the polytheists of Quraish failed to put any negative pressure on Muslims of Medina. Contrarily, the letters received harsh answers. So, the polytheists of Mecca understood that they could not turn anyone in Medina against the Messenger of Allah by terrorizing and threatening them.

Frightening Days in Medina

The Prophet found out about the threatening letters sent to the people of Medina. As a result, Medina was always on full alert. In case of any possible “sudden attack by polytheists”, the Honorable Messenger was always careful and asked Muslims to be careful and precautious, too. They did not even sleep some nights for this reason.

Indeed, Muslims of Medina were in a real critical situation because their migration to Medina put them in the target of polytheistic Arab tribes. Of course, they had to be alert all the time in this situation. Muslims would gather together even for the slightest commotion.

One day, they heard a noise. Whoever heard the noise cried out. The Honorable and Supreme Messenger, who was the zenith of any positive trait, was the zenith of courage as well. He girded himself with his sword and got on his horse at once, and rode off to the crowd; and consoled them.

Anas b. Malik says:

“Whenever an outcry was heard, we would see the Messenger of Allah arrive there on horseback!” 

The efforts of Meccan polytheists on making Medina Muslims quit protecting the Honorable Messenger were not limited to sending memorandum-like letters. They also took some economic precautions in this sense. Moreover, they were systematically plotting mischief and causing disorder among Muslims, by using unbelievers and some Jews in Medina.

Despite all these, Muslims of Medina did not hesitate at all or refrain from embracing the Messenger of Allah, living Islam and helping Muslim immigrants at any cost. On the contrary, they continued with their service more seriously and more sincerely.

[ultimaa]

About Mikasa and her possible (and tragic) fate

I've been thinking recently about Eren Kruger's words to Grisha: "Save Armin and Mikasa." It is, of course, a future event that he accesses thanks to the clairvoyance of the attack titan. Some time ago, after Sasha's death, I thought another (more) important death was coming. You already know Master Isayama and his murderous cravings. Who will be next to move on to a better life? I sincerely believe that ... Mikasa. I never made many theories about it, but now, after chapter 121, I have reached catastrophic conclusions. I explain. When the talk of the EMA trio took place (with declarations of hate and blows in between), Eren declared to hate Mikasa and hit Armin. Charming. However, when Armin says "Is this the freedom you wanted, THE FREEDOM TO WOUND MIKASA?", Eren's expression is altered. There is something in those words that affects it. In chapter 121, Zeke starts talking and discovers that his brother ignores him. The cause? Eren is watching the famous scarf scene. You can say whatever you want about Eren, but I honestly think he would never hate Mikasa; I think that at that time, before the children they once were, he was thinking about the promise he made to her: "I will put the scarf on you as many times as you want." Because, my friends, I don't consider the scarf to be a "chain"; Mikasa has shown that he is not 24.7 with Eren. And if wanting your only family to be safe makes you a slave… well, we are already many slaves on the planet. Put yourself in your situation: some bastards kill your family less, for example, your father. IT WOULD BE NORMAL THAT YOU WILL CONCERN THE TRIPLE FOR YOUR FATHER. Empathy, please. And yes, Mikasa was, at first, really protective of the Tatakae, but think of one word: adolescence. When one is fifteen everything is magnified. Or as my mother would say: hormones. Going back to the matter of hate ... Obviously I think Eren is lying, for God's sake. I use the following theory, like many others: Eren did that to protect her. To protect her? Yes. Kruger mentions Armin and Mikasa; I BELIEVE ARMIN HAS ALREADY BE SAVED BECAUSE LEVI GAVE HIM THE COLOSSAL WHEN HE WAS AT THE EDGE OF DEATH… INSPIRED BY EREN'S PREVIOUS SPEECH. Armin, okay. But what about Mikasa? Surely some of you will say: HE SAVED HER FROM THE KIDNAPPERS. That was a coincidence. Do you think Eren manipulated kid!Eren to kill those men? He could not since he did not possess the titanic power. You may think that he manipulated Grisha, but it has become clear that Dr. Jaeger had nothing to do with his son's decision. In fact, he was horrified. So, does she still have to be saved? Yes! From my point of view, I think Eren told her that he hated her to get her away from the battle, from the current battle, the great battle. Because when Eren kissed Historia's hand and saw the future... maybe he saw Mikasa's death in this battle. PUUUUM. And I would like to avoid pulling it away, taking away the desire to fight. I would try to reverse the mythical "tatakae speech"; When he witnesses the scarf scene across the roads, he may feel guilty of inciting her to fight. Useless thing, because Mikasa is fighting because he has decided so with his holy ovaries ... and may end up perishing at the hands of Pieck or Reiner or whoever you want. Something tells me that Pieck will be the one. After all, Mikasa can beat a hundred men, but Pieck is a woman, a very cunning woman.

Why did Eren allow Mikasa to fight in Liberio if, as Jean said, he always tried to leave her off the battlefield? Because Eren knew perfectly well that Mikasa would survive. But in Shigansina ... Mmm, in Shigansina the same thing has not happened. Declared slave and locked up. In principle, out of combat. Safe. However, she ends up fighting. In danger again. At this point I imagine, for example, that Mikasa is distracted by Eren's decapitation; taking advantage of this oversight, Pieck would take the opportunity to end the infallible Ackerman and ZAAAAS, goodbye cowboy. Eren would have to save her from that.

Now I will talk about the dream of the first chapter (in the manga). Eren sees a girl who is clearly Mikasa ... but a Mikasa that no longer exists (based on the hairstyle) or ... that COULD EXIST IN THE FUTURE. That dream... is the future that Eren wants to achieve, a future where Mikasa survives, grows her hair and says goodbye to him; He is the one who is doomed to die, not her. She is who must say goodbye when the time comes, and not vice versa. Yes, yes, yes, Eren has to fulfill his mission and provoke the Apocalypse with his Four Horsemen and blah blah blah, but our boy has always been selfish (like human nature) and cannot tolerate that his loved ones have a terrible end. As Bob said: How many deaths will be necessary to know that there have been too many? Eren knows that the casualties have been too many. Could he have prevented Sasha's death? I'm afraid so, but if he had done it ... would the future have changed? In that case, Eren would be going blind. The need for sacrifices is a recurring theme in SnK. If Erwin Smith had not sacrificed most legionaries and his own life, Levi would not have been able to defeat Zeke. If Armin had not sacrificed himself, Eren would not have been able to defeat Bertolt. If Sasha had not died, then Nicolo would not have hit Falco with the bottle of wine and Falco would never have inherited Porco's power (I think that will be important in history). It is sad ... but necessary. It hurts Eren that way, she shed tears for Sasha, but since he was a child he had an ideology: YOU MUST CONTINUE TO HONATE THOSE WHO SACRIFYED. But simply ... there are things we cannot sacrifice, things that surpass us. Grisha himself refused to sacrifice the Reiss family. That is what makes us human. Eren doesn't want to sacrifice his two best friends. However, the situation is completely adverse.

Eren would try to save Mikasa, put on her scarf again as he promised, not like a fucking chain, I'm tired of chains; but as ... a red thread of destiny. The legend of the red thread unites two people destined to meet and love each other (I'm not talking about ships, fuck; you can also love someone as if they were your family). The thread can tense or tangle, but it cannot break. That thread is represented in the scarf. I am sure that Louise has the scarf, which at some point will reappear in an epic scene, sad, emotional and fuck ready to cry. When that scarf appears again, we will know if Mikasa is alive or dead. And for once, that depends on her. He is entirely (and unconsciously) free to decide if he lives or dies, challenging Eren and his purpose of saving her. Therefore, for me, MIKASA IS NOW FREE. It would be very ironic, don't you think? Death as a result of freedom ... Something twisted, as Isayama likes. In The Time Machine, a film directed by Simon Wells, the protagonist, a scientist named Alexander, creates a time machine to prevent the murder of his girlfriend. He tries again and again, but in the end the result is always the same: Emma always dies. If a thief doesn't kill her, a car runs over her. There is no way to avoid it. However, I think that in SnK it is possible to change the cycle of things; Eren himself influenced the past to determine the future. In the case of Mikasa, her future is in her own hands, although (according to my theory) Eren had seen her death. Eren won't be able to save her. In the first book of Percy Jackson (what times those) the Oracle tells Percy that he will not be able to save his mother ... BECAUSE SHE WILL SAVE HERSELF. For the philosopher Albert Camus, life was an act of rebellion and freedom; That's why Mikasa must save herself or... die trying. But being free in any case.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Yo! Can you do something for Ash where the queens relative (who is also a royal) comes to visit England? Because of an injury she ends up staying longer than intended and they start falling for each other.

Wow this got SO much longer than I meant for it to, but this was FUN, like holy heck I love Ash so much

(also excuse if “Princess” and “Honourable Lady” aren’t proper titles for a queen’s cousin; I couldn’t find a lot of information on the subject when I looked that up!!)

Ash

When the Queen’s cousin, Princess (Name) the Honourable Lady (Surname) arrives in England, Her Majesty assigns Ash to be (Name)’s personal guard and butler for the duration of her visit. As the cousin of the Queen, Ash takes his duty to protect her and keep her happy very seriously. In his own personal opinion, she is the most breathtaking person he’s ever laid eyes on, and one of the kindest he’s ever met. Obviously he stays professional in the beginning, but he was taken with her from the moment he first saw her.

The two of them enjoy taking walks along London’s streets together ― at least, Ash has come to enjoy it. The first few times, he was simply following orders to keep (Name) satisfied and out of trouble, but the more times they stroll down the streets, the more he begins to truly have a good time. They speak to each other as they walk, and often she stops to look into the windows of the shops. Sometimes they even enter shops and look around at everything.

In the beginning, Ash assumes that (Name) has no idea of his true nature. However, there comes a moment when he’s turned around, and she suddenly presses her hand gently against his back. When asked about it, she replies that she wanted to see if she could feel his wings through his clothes; when asked about that, she explains that she was anxious about being alone with someone, so the Queen confided in her that because Ash was an angel, she could trust him. And, so she has.

(Name) is only supposed to stay for two weeks. The injury that extended her stay is no fault of Ash’s, but rather a result of the lady’s stubbornness. While the two of them are taking one more stroll, this time through the countryside as she wants to see it before she leaves, they’re attacked by an upstart demon who thinks she can make a name for herself by killing Ash. Of course, Ash fights valiantly to protect (Name), but at one point loses his sword and must rely on his fists. He urges (Name) to run away―

― Instead, what does the lady do but pick up his sword and rush straight at the demon? Although the result is messy, it allows Ash the chance to get his bearings. Despite that he appreciates it, he quips later that they must have her hearing checked, because surely if she heard him warn her, she would have fled.

The only way he escapes punishment for allowing the princess to be hurt on his watch is because she defends him to the Queen. (Name) insists that it was her fault, and that Ash was trying to protect her, and she disregarded his order to run. Certainly, the Queen cannot punish (Name) for getting herself hurt, so the ‘punishment’ for Ash is that he continue being the lady’s butler and guard for the rest of her visit… which, because she now has a broken arm, has been extended by several months. For his part, Ash doesn’t complain.

During the time that the princess is isolated in her room and urged by the Queen not to leave, Ash tends to her. Whatever she needs or desires, he makes sure to take such good care of her that a doctor would be jealous. In turns out, after some time, that (Name) desires… him.

Once she’s allowed out of her room, she and Ash return to their walks and shopping. She purposefully distracts him at one point, just long enough for the shopkeep to wrap up her purchase, and even though Ash asks what she’s gotten, she playfully refuses to tell him. It turns out to be a pin fashioned in the shape of angel wings, which she later adorns (one-handed and looking a bit silly) on the breast pocket of his suit. “To show everyone that you are my angel.”

It’s only once (Name) is healed that Ash takes her on a flight, for the very sincere reason that he wants her to be able to hold on so that she doesn’t fall. She finds the whole experience exhilarating and the first time she kisses him is while they’re in midair.

When she does heal, she doesn’t want to leave, and she knows Ash can’t come with her. So on the eve of the ball that the Queen has prepared for (Name)’s sendoff, she declares her affections for him ―very publicly. Anyone watching would be forgiven for thinking Ash’s face would be bright red forever.

For as long as her cousin will tolerate her, (Name) will stay in England, in the company of her family and her beloved angel. Ash, to his credit, is much happier and more peaceful than anyone has ever seen him.

[quarterfromcanon]

No One’s Really Got It Figured Out Just Yet

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 13 - Tease [3,289 words]

The bridal shower was for everyone but the bachelorette party was just for the Gurl Group. Against her better judgment, Valencia made arrangements at a karaoke bar. Even though the bride-to-be was notoriously off-key, she knew that singing pop hits with her “#squad” was the activity the guest of honor would enjoy most. She, Heather, and Paula could grin and bear it for one night in order to give their girl the special memories she deserved. All good intentions aside, though, the elated screech that tore out of Rebecca when she learned where they were going was enough to leave them all wincing and rubbing their ears.

The four of them opted to share a car for the hour drive to their destination. Rebecca led Paula into the backseat to begin planning song choices. Heather rode in the passenger seat beside Valencia to read directions off the app.

Rebecca skimmed through Googled suggestions and mumbled to herself. She lifted her finger away from the scrollbar, turned sideways, and grabbed Paula’s wrist. “Oh my gosh, wait. ‘Mickey’ would be really cute, right? But it could be like my own little spin on it: ‘Hey, Joshy!’”

Paula’s face went slack with horror. “Good Lord.”

Valencia and Heather rushed to her aid.

“Dude, no.”

“Uh-uh. Unanimous veto.”

Rebecca held up her hands. “All right, I get it. Consider it scrapped. That would alienate the rest of the audience anyway. Plus, Josh won’t even be there to sing it to, so like, what would be the point?”

Everybody relaxed. Paula tilted Rebecca’s phone so they could both see the results. “Here, let Mama take a look at what else you’ve got.”

Rebecca eagerly scooted over and indicated a few additional options she thought might suit the purpose. Crisis averted, Valencia and Heather returned their focus to the road.

“It was really cool of you to put everything together for her,” Heather said in an undertone. “You totally saved her ass stepping up like that.” Her eyes fell on where Rebecca’s face was reflected in the rear-view mirror, wreathed in the pale white glow from her screen. “Also, you can already tell it lifted a big weight off her shoulders. This is, like, the happiest she’s looked in weeks.”

Valencia’s face flushed but she managed a casual shrug. “She’d have done the same for me.”

Heather smiled. “Yeah, but I feel like the result would’ve been some kind of huge, chaotic production.”

“She does love her grand gestures,” Valencia concurred. “There’d have been skywriting or a billboard or something.” 

“Right, and matching outfits.”

“Of course. Custom-made.”

They both chuckled and shook their heads. 

As they reached the next stoplight, Valencia stole a lingering glance at Heather. This was the longest they’d spent in each other’s company since their afternoon of day drinking, and she had yet to suss out her stance regarding the moment that passed between them. Valencia honestly remained uncertain if there had been such a moment at all. Maybe she still needed to get laid after the disastrous attempt at Home Base. Maybe it was the aftereffects of the dream during the Santa Ana winds. All Valencia knew was that what started out as fairly innocent fun ended with fingers and legs tangled together and Heather’s face mere inches from her own. Under the unique circumstances of the day, there was just enough plausible deniability that it could all be in her head, but that was the problem. The breathless pause was stuck in her mind, playing on loop until she could hardly stand it. Every time her thoughts were free to wander, all she could see were Heather’s lips -- parted, pink, perfect; all she could feel was the warmth of Heather’s torso locked between her thighs.

Valencia gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles paled from the pressure. She gulped and stared intently forward, determined not to turn to the side again. It had to stop now. Whatever confused muddle of feelings prompted this uninvited ardor, there had to be some way to drive it back into nonexistence. Yes, she had appreciated Heather’s kindness and care more than usual lately, and yes, her friend had shown her respect and consideration when others did not. Still, that was not reason enough to be thinking of her in any other context than the relationship they already shared.

“You get off here.”

Valencia jumped and blinked rapidly. “Hmm?”

“Our exit is straight ahead.” Heather held out her arm and pointed through the windshield. Her soft skin brushed the back of Valencia’s wrist, making her tremble involuntarily. 

“Oh. Right.” Valencia flicked on her signal. “Thanks.”

When they approached the bar, it appeared as though there may not be a lot of parking spaces left available. Fortunately, there was one near the back of the building, a few strides away from the sidewalk. Valencia pulled into the vacant spot and everyone exited into the night air. A quick push of a button opened the trunk, and Valencia reached inside to withdraw a pale pink sash and a veil attached to a plastic crown.

Rebecca squeaked. “Do I get to wear those?” She covered the bottom of her face with her hands and bounced on her heels. “Put ’em on me, put ’em on me, put ’em on!”

“Okay, okay, hold still.” Valencia’s arms rose and fell with Rebecca’s celebratory hopping until her friend finally contained all that energy. She divided the task of accessorizing by passing the crown off to Paula and then looped the sash over Rebecca’s shoulder.

While Paula secured the veil, Rebecca lovingly traced her fingers over the letters running down the material. “Aww, look, it says BRIDE TO BE with a little heart on it, and it’s so sparkly! I’m gonna cry. You guys are the best.”

Rebecca threw her arms wide and they all closed in for a group hug. 

Heather’s palm rested between Valencia’s shoulder blades. “All right,” Valencia declared as her back went rigid. “Let’s get inside and sign up before all the slots are taken.”

___

First, it was Paula’s turn. She downed half a beer and took the stage. The Gurl Group whooped their support, which turned into a shout of delighted surprise when the opening of It’s Raining Men began to play. What Paula may have lacked in vocal confidence, she more than compensated for with sheer attitude. Rebecca’s response was something akin to a proud relative and she believed it necessary to tell every passing patron that it was her best friend currently commanding the floor.

Paula returned to their table five minutes later to uproarious applause from her three biggest fans. If anything, Rebecca’s enthusiasm only heightened from that point, which worked out just right since she was next after someone from a booth on the other side of the room.

The girls all tensed. Paula had done her level best to steer Rebecca away from catastrophe, but none of them knew for certain what track was ultimately chosen. They found out soon enough.

“Natalie Cole,” Heather acknowledged with a slow nod. “This is gonna get real interesting real quick.”

“At least her claps are synchronized,” Valencia noted optimistically.

Rebecca leaned close to the microphone. “Hey, everyone. How’re you doing?” Her nose scrunched and she beamed. “This is dedicated to the man of my dreams, Joshua Felix Chan, my own everlasting love, without whom I wouldn’t have any of the amazing women in my life who are sitting right over there.” She gestured into the darkness. Paula, Valencia, and Heather gave the crowd uncomfortable waves and nods. “We’ve pried into each other’s secrets, tried to sabotage each other, slept with some of the same men, but come out the other side stronger than ever.” Even through the gloom, Rebecca detected the mortified reactions at her table. She checked the faces of the surrounding strangers. “Too much? Eh, it’s fine. It’s my bachelorette party; I’ll overshare if I want to.”

Mercifully, the long musical intro ended and Rebecca dove into the lyrics. Her performance was almost more like talking than singing, but it was comparatively tolerable to everyone’s ears, considering the options that were turned down on the ride there. 

Paula waited until Rebecca looked their way once more and gave an encouraging thumbs up and nod. “Yay, Cookie!”

Heather gamely swayed in her seat and tapped the heel of her boot against the chair leg. Her shoulder bumped Valencia’s and she smiled. Valencia felt herself mirroring both the expression and the movement. They let their arms make contact with a little more force each time, giggling when the collision nearly threw them both off balance. The crowd copied Rebecca’s clapping and seemed charmed by her sincerity, at the very least. 

“Get ready, ladies, here it comes,” Valencia mumbled as Rebecca approached the last minute of the song.

“Oof.” Paula adjusted her grimace into a cheerful mask. “That was an ambitious key change.”

“That’s a word for it.” Heather’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline.

Her hand found Valencia’s under the table and squeezed. Valencia’s stomach somersaulted, but she clasped just as hard in return, and they both tried very hard to keep their grins from faltering while Rebecca closed out the number.

Rebecca came back to her chair with visible joy shining from every pore. “That might have literally been one of the greatest experiences of my life.” She picked up a napkin and dabbed it across her glistening forehead. “What a rush! And I wasn’t nervous at all.”

“You really have a presence,” Paula complimented with careful word choice.

“They won’t forget you,” Valencia added.

Rebecca’s lower lip protruded. “That is so sweet.” She took a drink and then tapped her palms against her kneecaps. “Who’s next? Heather? What’re you gonna do? No, wai-wai-wait. Don’t tell them. Just tell me. It’ll be fun. Our little secret.”

She leaned to the left with one ear angled expectantly. Heather hesitated but obeyed the nonverbal command. She cupped her hands against the side of Rebecca’s face and spoke quietly. Rebecca’s eyes lit up and she clapped. “Do you need someone to do air harmonica?”

“I don’t really think that’s a thing...”

“Watch this. I’ve got it.” Rebecca plucked up one of their appetizer mozzarella sticks and feigned playing the instrument in question. “It’s good, right?”

“Super convincing.” Heather’s features were neutral but her eyes were amused. “Is this maybe because you wanna get back in front of an audience as soon as possible?”

Rebecca’s shoulders touched her earlobes. She tried to accentuate her freckles with the lifting of her cheekbones. “Maybeee?”

“Uh-huh. Okay, you can come with me, goofball.”

So she did. Heather stopped below the rise and coaxed the microphone down to her. She smoothed the back of her skirt and and sat on the edge of the stage. Rebecca followed suit, breaded snack in hand, and waited through the initial notes with closed eyes and a soulful expression. Heather observed the theatricality with arched eyebrows but did nothing to curb it. Rebecca peeked out, caught hold of Heather’s fingers, and tucked them under the fringe of the skirt in lieu of a pocket. Heather laughed but played along just as the words appeared on the screen behind them.

“Alanis Morissette,” Paula identified in a nostalgic voice. “The early years, still aimless and grungy. My sister’s oldest was really into the album this came from. It was back when cassettes were a thing. God, that feels like forever ago. You were old enough to remember that era, weren’t you?”

Valencia nodded vaguely. Her attention was attuned to one person only. By the time Heather reached the first “baby,” Valencia’s heart throbbed with such intensity in her chest that it left a physical pang in its wake. Goosebumps rose along her arms and she leaned forward until the table pushed into her abdomen.

Heather completed the first chorus and accepted Rebecca’s offered high five. A genuine smile stretched across her face and stayed there. Valencia’s lips curved up to match, albeit in a distracted way while the thudding behind her ribs began to feel like it might somehow choke her.

Rebecca’s promised harmonica solo arrived, and she played the faux mouth organ with spectacular gusto. Heather guffawed and applauded. Her gaze drifted across the room and locked on Valencia. She winked. Valencia coughed as her own saliva hit the back of her throat. She snatched up her cocktail and drank. 

“...maybe later you two could do it.”

Valencia spat the alcohol back into the glass. “What?”

Paula’s brow furrowed. “I said I saw the sign-ups and there are still a couple of openings near the end of the night. If we’re all still going strong, maybe we could divvy them up. Rebecca and I could take one and you and Heather could duet.” She reached over and patted Valencia’s spine. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” Valencia rasped and forced the muscles in her face to relax. “Just went down the wrong way.” Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. Of all the times to use that phrase...

Heather gestured for Rebecca to take it away one last time on the cheese stick harmonica and then they both rose to their feet. They were met with approving exclamations and claps from more tables than just their own, and Rebecca skipped back to where the others sat waiting. 

It was a difficult act to follow, and Valencia’s palms were damp. She polished off the last of her drink while a few public hamming enthusiasts walked onstage. When at last it was her scheduled time, the remaining three women tapped their empty glasses against the table and called out bolstering comments. 

Valencia’s knees knocked as she ascended the stairs. She fixed her ponytail and cleared her throat before approaching the microphone. Her fingers curled around the stand while the music began to play.

“Three little birds sat on my window, and they told me I don’t need to worry...”

She looked at her table of friends with obvious affection. Rebecca’s hand flew to her heart. Paula jokingly murmured, “Tweet, tweet.”

Valencia ducked her head and continued. Heather was nearly motionless. The only sign of agitation was the idle fiddling of her fingertips along the stylized edges of her skirt. She gave away no particular emotions, and yet Valencia found it nearly impossible to stop searching her eyes. On impulse, she opted to decrease the distance between them.

She walked back down the steps and passed through the crowd. Rebecca was thrilled and shouted something about their queen knowing how to work the room. Valencia perched on her recently vacated chair and leaned an elbow against the table’s edge. She hooked a finger around the elastic tie at the back of her head and slid it free, allowing her hair to tumble loose. Rebecca and Paula, more-than-willing to stand in as avid groupies, imitated fangirls and reached to touch Valencia. Her growing confidence was evident in a brief smirk. She brushed their outstretched palms with her own and suppressed a laugh when they both pretended to swoon. 

Heather was still watching with crossed legs and an unreadable stare. Valencia longed to push a little more, anything to unearth some clarity of intention, but there was a fine line between playful sexiness and blatant flirting -- a delicate boundary she was resolute not to cross. For the time being, she settled for grazing her nails across Heather’s shoulder in passing and sashaying back to the stage.

“She’s really good!” Rebecca projected her voice over the audio.

Heather rubbed her tingling shoulder. “Yeah, she is.”

___

More than an hour passed before their next number, a group opportunity they tipped the D.J. extra to provide. Rebecca was practically buzzing with anticipation. She’d spent the majority of the past sixty minutes talking them into and through a Spice Girls chart-topper. Despite Paula’s protestations that the English stars didn’t hold the same sentimental value for her as the other three, she found herself their designated Ginger. Rebecca had laid claim to Scary, namely because she wanted the chance to sing the nonsense syllables Mel B. used to express her relationship desires. Heather was appointed Sporty Spice, for reasons Rebecca asserted were obvious, aesthetically speaking. Since Posh was vocally present mainly in the chorus, Valencia was named Baby for the purpose of the act, although she adamantly refused to let Rebecca put her hair in pigtails. 

Only two microphones were available for use, so they had to employ a buddy system. Paula and Rebecca shared one while Heather and Valencia were handed the other. Valencia’s lungs tightened at the prospect of singing eye-to-eye with the woman who had been distracting her all night. Then Heather moved to stand behind her instead and Valencia instantly broke into a cold sweat. The speakers came to life before she could say anything, and suddenly it was too late to change it. When Heather needed to perform her part of the first verse, she urged Valencia closer by the waist and leaned over Valencia’s shoulder to access the mic. Valencia’s line immediately followed, and she could feel Heather’s breath ghosting across her neck while she sang.

When the vocals went back to Rebecca and Paula, Heather began to move her hips in time with the beat, a dance of which Valencia was painfully aware given their nearness and the firm press of fingers over her hemline. She tried to mimic the motion with a shimmy of her own. They achieved synchronicity and Valencia’s pulse rumbled deep in her eardrums. Their second shared verse crackled with tension. Heather’s other hand was now fanned against the bottom of Valencia’s rib cage. It would have been so easy to make eye contact over the microphone, but Valencia merely angled her gaze in Heather’s direction. Such risky vulnerability required more courage than she could muster, and her nerves were already on edge.  

The song came to an end. Heather relinquished her grip on Valencia’s body as they took their bows and went back to their seats. 

“I think that was officially our showstopper of the evening.” Rebecca reached for her refilled glass. “To the power of friendship!”

They all participated in the toast and downed several mouthfuls of their respective drinks. 

“Great job on the choreography too, by the way.” Rebecca patted the space between Heather and Valencia. “You leaned into the subtle homoeroticism from their music videos, but made it feel authentic rather than performative. Bravo.”

Valencia became very interested in a circle of condensation on the table. Heather was studying her in profile, she could feel it, and yet she could not open herself up to that scrutiny. 

Paula looked back and forth between them. “You two really committed up there, huh?”

Heather nodded and twirled a martini pick around her fingers. “Sometimes, when you’re singing a song, it just really grabs hold of you. It also helps if you and the music go way back. Right, V?”

Valencia’s cheeks burned with another blush and she shifted forward so her hair would cover them. “Yeah, it makes a difference when there’s a personal connection.”

“Exactly.”

Valencia was not certain that her interpretation of Heather’s replies existed free from bias. It strained the confines of coincidence to think none of the recent sparks were apparent to the other half of the equation; however, the possibility that they were perceived and reciprocated was a notion too fateful and frightening to confront.

She turned and lifted her eyes to meet Heather’s. So much of what lived behind those watchful irises remained a mystery, but the unspoken words in them now were as clear as if Heather had whispered in Valencia’s ear:

Your move.

[higuchimon-writings]

[fanfic] Aftermath

Trying to explain holidays to people who had never heard of them before was not an easy task. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Zhane, Andros, and Karone had holidays, but they didn't have Christmas. They'd heard of it in the abstract, such as 'I got that as a Christmas present', but this was the first time that the holiday had passed and the Rangers had been relaxed enough to actually notice.

Things on Earth were settling down as well. The damage done to Angel Grove was almost completely dealt with, and the ex-villains were being assimilated into whatever societies they chose to join. Earth society had been shaken up, but humans being humans, they were coping with it.

All over Earth, this time of year had been declared a time of fellowship, healing, and being with one's family. People who hadn't seen each other in years came together to celebrate not just surviving the invasion of Astronema's forces, but a new wave of peace and understanding that had swept over the entire planet. It looked as if Earth could be on the verge of an enormous leap in culture, compassion, tolerance, and science.

And none of that meant a single thing if you asked the Pink Astro Ranger, Cassie Chan. She spent the weeks prior to the holiday season curled up in her room on the MegaShip, staring out at the stars. She ignored the food left by Alpha, and had politely requested DECA not to bother her. Ashley was busy introducing Andros to her family, and Zhane and Karone were frequently on Earth, stocking her a new wardrobe with the help of some former female Rangers, and introducing the two of them to the ways of their new home. T.J. had picked up a girlfriend somewhere, and he was completely oblivious to anything but her for the moment.

That left Carlos, and he stood quietly in the doorway of Cassie's room, watching her. He knew something was wrong, and he wanted to help her feel better. He wasn't really certain of why, he just knew that to see her lovely face so sad and regretful made him want to put a smile on it, somehow. I wish I were T.J. He always seems to know how to cheer her up. He knew that the Blue and Pink Rangers had had a bond of some kind ever since they'd met on the bus to Angel Grove, but with T.J. not there, it fell to him to help her. And I'd do it anyway.

He took a deep breath, and decided to take the plunge. "Cassie?"

The dark-haired girl made no real response, only lifted her fingers in something that may have been a salute of some kind. He stepped a little further in, choosing to take that as a motion to do so. "Cassie, what's wrong? And don't tell me nothing, I know something is on your mind."

"It isn't anything you can change, Carlos." She replied, which was more of a sentence than any of them had gotten out of her in almost two weeks. "It just...it's just my problem, that's all."

He frowned; there was something in her voice... "Cassie, have you been crying?"

"No!" Her reaction was sharp. "What makes you think that?" She raised a hand to her cheeks, obviously to wipe away tears, even as she said that. "Just leave me alone, please, Carlos. I don't want to see anyone."

He frowned again. "Cassie, we're friends, please talk to me. I know we haven't really talked all that much before..."

"This has nothing to do with you, Carlos." She still stared out the window, pain virtually radiating off of her. "It's no one's fault. Just...just something that happened."

The Black Ranger watched her for a few moments, then shook his head. "Talk to me, Cassie, please." When she didn't so much as move a muscle, he sighed. He was just about to leave when he caught sight of an envelope on the table, and a letter on top of it. The phrase we are sorry to inform you caught his eye, and something told him it wasn't something as trivial as a rejection letter from a college. With a quick flick of his eyes towards Cassie to see if she'd notice, he quietly stepped over to check the letter out.

"Dear Miss Chan,

We are sorry to inform you that your parents, Richard and Denise Chan, perished in the attack on Angel Grove. Their bodies were identified by family friends since you could not be located at the time. Please accept our sincere condolences.

Signed,

The City of Angel Grove

Mayor's Office

Carlos stared in shock, then looked over at Cassie. She was still staring out there, out to space, and he acted on sheer instinct. He stepped over to her and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "I'm sorry, Cassie," He whispered into her ear, noticing in the back of his mind there was some kind of delicious fragrance about her hair. "I wish I'd known."

"Why?" He could hear the tears in her voice now, and how rough it was. She must have been spending all her most private moments in tears. "Would it have done any good?"

He held her tighter; she had never seemed close to her family, so this emotion was really taking him by surprise. The last I heard, they'd disowned her for moving to Angel Grove without permission. Maybe they were closer than I thought. He searched for some way to talk to her about it. He knew how it could be to lose a family member, it had happened to him before.

Before he could utter a word, however, Cassie snapped at him, "You don't know anything about this, Carlos! Sure, we had fights, but we were going to make up! I'd told them to come before it all started, I wanted them to be here, and it's because of me that they died! If it wasn't for me talking them into coming, coming to see me, to try and patch things up, then they'd still be alive! It's all my fault!!"

He stared at her for a moment, then tightened her arms around her. "No, it isn't, Cassie. Dark Spectre was the one who ordered the attack, so this is all just a case of really bad timing. You didn't know what was going to happen. You're not at fault here." He tilted her head up to look into her eyes, hoping to impress on her all the sincerity he felt. "You were only trying to be a good daughter. To help them. To make amends. You were trying to do something good and it went wrong. It wasn't your fault."

The Pink Ranger stared at him; the things he was saying rang true against the inner litany of blame that had been swirling about her mind ever since she'd heard about her parents' death. She wanted to believe what he was saying, she wanted to end this nightmare that had become the holidays. The holidays are supposed to be a time for family...not mourning family.

"I..." Words failed her. She wanted to say something, but her mind was a complete blank. She could think of nothing to express the myriad of emotions twisting inside of her. "I...Carlos..."

"No." He smiled a little as he squeezed her hand. "I Carlos. You Cassie."

Her lips twitched in the first faint hints of a smile she had done in days, if not weeks. "Tarzan, you are not. I can kick your butt in practice, and don't you forget it, soccer boy."

He couldn't help but smile back at her. "Should I put on an apron and start doing the dishes, then? If you're so much 'manlier' than I am?"

"Nah, we want to keep them around to eat off of again." She retorted, finding a touch of her spirit. "If you get near them, they'll all be pieces in minutes."

"Hey!!" The Black Ranger attempted to pout, and he was very good at it. "I'm not that bad!"

She grinned, feeling lighter inside as she did. The wound caused by her tragedy was still there, but the guilt that she had caused it was gone. He was right. I only wanted to help. It's just a horrible coincidence, that's all. It shouldn't have happened, I wish it hadn't happened, but it did, and I'm still alive. I have to go on with my life...no matter who isn't here to share it with me.

"So where did you say the others were?" She wondered. She hadn't really heard that much of what he had said before; lost in her own dark abyss of grief.

He ticked them off on his fingers. "Ashley and Andros are with her parents. Zhane and Karone went shopping again with Kimberly Hart and Katherine Hillard. T.J. is off with that new girlfriend of his...I can't remember her name, honestly." He shrugged a little. "And we're here."

"So we are." Cassie didn't even consider the usual holiday habits of decorating a tree or making cookies or anything like that. She was feeling drained; all the energy had been drained right out of her by recent events. "So what do we do?"

Carlos looked quietly at her, compassion and friendship shining in his deep, dark, mysterious eyes. "We talk. We are friends, aren't we?" She grinned quietly at him, and laced her fingers about his.

"That we are."

He smiled back at her, and the two of them stood up. A slight shift of air currents later, and Carlos blinked. "Um, Cassie, how long has it been since you had a shower?"

She turned bright red at that, and murmured something that he took to mean roughly 'far too long'. "Give me a second," sh To keep his mind distracted, he glanced around the room, wondering why he'd never come in here before. He wandered in and out of T.J.'s and Zhane's rooms at will, and they did the same for him. He knew the girls traipsed in and out as they wished, except for Karone, who was still learning the finer points of trust, and Ashley walked into Andros' room as easily as she did her own.

The room was a small disaster area, but he couldn't be certain right now if that was it's natural state or if she'd just neglected housekeeping because of what had been going on. He had the feeling it was the latter. Wonder if she'd need any help cleaning it up... He glanced around and spied a few feminine undergarments out in plain sight. Then again, maybe I should let her do it, it is her room after all.

"Hey!" He looked up to see Cassie standing there, clean, dressed, and with her hair damp and tangled. "Well, any better?" There was a twinkle in her eye that hadn't been there before, and he found himself simply staring. She wore a simple pair of black jeans and a pink silk top, and was toweling her long ropes of hair dry. "Carlos, are you all right, you look like you stopped breathing."

He blinked for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm all right. You look awesome."

"Thanks." The Pink Ranger blushed a deep shade of red at the compliment. "I just threw on the first thing I had. Could you hand me that brush? I need to work on this hair before I do anything else."

Carlos smiled quietly as he brought the brush over to her. "Let me do it. You've got too much hair; you're going to need the extra help."

There wasn't all that much she could say to that as he started to work on her tangles. She sighed softly in pleasure; having her hair brushed for her was something that didn't happen that often. "Where'd you learn to do this?" She managed to mumble. "You haven't pulled my hair once."

A chuckle came from behind her. "My sister Maria has hair about twice as long as yours. She taught me how to help her take care of it, since she failed to grow three extra arms to do it herself."

Once Cassie's hair had been restored to it's usual glorious splendor, Carlos looked at her. "So, what was it you wanted to do again?"

"Talk. And I think I know just the place." Cassie took him by the hand and led him out of the room and through the winding corridors of the ship until they got to the Simudeck. "Here."

The Black Ranger looked curious. "Why here? What program, I mean?"

"You'll see." Cassie's nimble fingers danced across the keypad and a moment later it slid open to reveal something inside that Carlos had never once thought was programmed into this thing. He couldn't imagine why someone would want to do it either. It was just...weird.

Spread out before them was the old Power Chamber. Just as it had been the day that the two of them had been transported there to assume the mantles of the Green and Pink Turbo Rangers. The only things that were really missing were Alpha-6 and Dimitria. Carlos looked all around. "It's amazing. It's like...going back in time."

"I think I was happiest here." Cassie trailed her fingers across the consoles. "I was a Power Ranger."

"You still are." He reminded her. She shook her head slightly.

"It's not quite the same thing now. Now we wander across space. Then we were the heroes of Earth. I know this is bigger...but that was home." The dark-haired woman smiled a bit sadly. "I wouldn't really change things but I miss what we used to be."

He watched as she walked around, obviously lost in her memories. His eyes never left her. He didn't think he could if he tried. The light gently caressed her face as she walked, and he found himself wishing he was that light. She turned to him as he stepped a little closer involuntarily. Their eyes met.

It had never been love at first sight. It had been built of a thousand sights. Of moments that they had shared as Rangers and as friends. A million memories passed between them in that moment. Neither had seriously thought of the other as more than a friend until that moment.

But as Cassie reached out to take his hand, and he pulled her gently into his arms, each knew that this was only the beginning.

And as she brought her lips up to touch his, they both knew...the beginning was beautiful.

The End