#anyway. Enjoy!

[ancha-aus]

New Age AU Drabble - Feelings Above Duty

Heya @spotaus Spot!!

I swear new Age Ccino gives me brainworms. He is my Blorbo <3 So here we are! back at it again!

Timeline? We are right after Dream invaded the castle and got away. The group is hard at work at returning everything to normal, or as normal as they can.

So. 5 hours and 4750 words later and here we are! As always. No editing as always as it is a drabble but i am VERY happy wiht how it turned out! <3

*---------------------------*

It still feels wrong.

Everything feels wrong.

Even as things are calm. Even when things are clean. Even when there is not a single mark on the floors or walls. Even if the meeting with the council went alright and no one was difficult about him taking them over for a short time again.

Then again... It is not the first time.

Abigail, or Abbee as she prefers to be called, is a member of one of the old noble families. The noble family who has been in the council for generations on end.

When Ccino had walked in some of the newer members had looked confused. Abbee however had looked up with a deep frown on her face. Before anyone could reject him being there however Abbee had flown over and given him a hug. Happily greeted him and asking if the king had send him to stand in for a little while again.

Ccino had confirmed it and gotten straight to the point. Memories and old hard learned lessons coming back easily. Ccino is very lucky for all the careful notes that Night... Night... Nighty...

His hands shake as he drops the dish he had been holding. The plate clathers loudly on the counter and the sound seems to continue to bounce in his skull.

It feels too full. Everything is loud... Nothing makes sense.. He can't breath.

No.

No focus.

He looks down to pick up the plate. He spots it and reaches but-

Red... Red and silver and grey... Red liquid covering his hands... Two just barely different shades... lines of glittery silver swirling in it. Never mixing but there... Small grey particals. Starting to clump together.

He can't move. He can't breath. He can't-

"Ccino?" a hand on his shoulder and someone? he needs to... He needs to... soemthing...

"Ssh... Sshh it is okay. Breath. First you need to breath. First in. Hold it. Then out."

There is a hand. Pushing on his sternum when they say out. And releasing the pressure when saying in.

"Just follow my hand. Come on... Easy does it."

He fills the fake lungs. As he does the world becomes clearer again. His hands are white... covered with bubbles made of soap from the dishes... before him he sees the plate but it is broken and-

Red... there is red.

A hand pulls his hand away and a towel covers his hand "You were really out of it there Ccino... Easy..."

The ground is cold and hard but it pulls his attention. the arms around him as steady and secure and..

Oh...

"Sorry Robin... I don't know... I just..." He should be better at this. Even if that day when Nigh-... When he got taken is by far the worst day in his life... It is fine. He should be fine. He should be good at this. It is what he does. He manages.

He always manages.

Robin doesn't let go of him as she studies his hand "Lets agree to disagree... Ccino. What are you doing here?"

Ccino shoots her a look before sighing as he glances back at the dishes "Washing the dishes. After it I still need to prepare the meeting with the merchants. They should be here before the end of the week and if Ni-... I mean... our... Our..." Why can't he just say it! Why is his throat locking up?! Get it together! Just. Stop being a wreck. Stop being a burden! enough is going on. Get it together and do something useful!

Robin hums and with a flourish she finishes wrapping his small wound "Yeah I cna see that. Next question!" She looks at him questioning "Why are you here instead of where you want to be?"

Ccino feels called out a she glances back at his hand "I... I went by this morning..."

Robin nods "How is he?"

Ccino looks to the side "Still asleep... The healers say he is stable... Just resting... That he needs time to recover the lost blood, and mana... and energy... and... and... life-... lifeforce..." His hands had been covered... His clothes a mess. His whole bathroom had looked like a terrible murder had happened.

He had broken down again when he tried to clean it...

Robin had found him like that...

Robin ahd held him... much like this actually...

Heh... He is pathetic... So much for being worth all the trust Nightlight places in him... He can't even keep it together now.

The Knights are fine... Angry and worried but they can focus. They are working on locating Nightmare at this very moment.

Error is also helping. Crafting a sort of spell to track Ngihtmare's magic.

The are fine... They are managing...

He should be better.

Robin frowns at him "Sorry to hear that... It must be rough."

Ccino can't help but snort as he pulls his knees up and just lays on them "Harder for the Knights... I really have no right to be this undone by it all..." To hover as much as he is. To visit so often. Killer and him... They hadn't even been close... Ccino had... he had never truly tried to connect wiht Killer... Before because of Killer's own past... After that Ccino hadn't wanted to interfere with Killer's journey to self discovery... Shortly after that... Their small talk in the hallways and Ccino's few helping moments grew even smaller as Killer became a Knight.

The first Knight. The King's most trusted.

Then the others came around and Killer had his fellow Knights. His brothers in arms.

They still spoke... once or twice... When they came across one another in their own duties. Killer is always playful. Still that same smile as all those years ago...

They still dance...

At his brithday party... The Winter Ball...

Ccino had often wondered if Killer knew it was just Ccino under that mask. Ccino figures he knew. Killer is much more intelligent than he wants you to think he is.

But then it makes no sense that Killer still asks him for a dance... or six... and eating a plate of food on the balcony together...

A hand covers his hand and holds it. Moments later Robin interlocks their fingers together. She is warm. Almost all humans are. He glances at her before looking away again. Her face doesn't have her usual smile as she just stares at him worried.

"It is... okay... I will be..." not fine. He doens't feel fine. He can't feel fine. He isn't allowed to lie... "I will manage." Managing. That he can do. He can manage.

"Ccino... If you could pick anywhere to be right now... where would it be?" Robin just asks.

Ccino can't help but let out a snort as his mental to do list stares down at him. "Probably in... in the office... I need to reread deals and contracts... Make sure everything is being send out and on its way to the places that need them." There are multiple rebuilding projects on their way. Promised goods and gold need to be spread. The plans should be all done but Ccino needs to check them just in case some spy broke in and messed with them when their defences had been done. That is what... what Nighty would ahve wnated...

Robin tugs on their joined hand "No... Ccino... I mean. Where do you want to be right now. Not where you think you should be or where your next chore is. Where do you want to be."

Ccino frowns as looks at the ground. The ground is nice. It has curves and looks like tightly intertwines branches. But still completely flat. Honestly he doesn't take enough time to admire the castle and oh it is warm here. He should open a window and let the air cool. On tha tnote. When was the last time the castle got aired out? Especially after the fighting and all the cleaning they will need to open up the windows to make sure not resident chemicals bother people.

Maybe the fresh air will also help with his warm feeling face and horrible headache and-

An arm is wrapped around him "I think we both know where you want to be."

Ccino feels called out... Then again... Robin knows him... Robin has been there with him since the start. ten years older and so much smarter but she had pulled him up and helped him along. While people were mean or forced him to run. She had been the one to show him little tricks. Little ways to make it easier. Where to stash food. Wehre he could safely rest. Which hours the guards wouldn't patrol certain areas.

Ccino leans against her. His sockets hurt... form the crying... maybe from the staring at his roof in his room. Maybe it is the headache. It just feels better to lean agianst her "I gotta work Robs..." He mutters as he just leans against her. Familiar and safe.

Robin snorts "I can do that stuff Ccino."

Ccino shoots her a look "robin... I can't ask you that."

Robin looks highly amused "What exactly? That I do my job, that i am handsomely and very well paid for may I add. And you focus on some personal stuff." Her amusement becomes gentle "Ccino. The reason why you always do it is because well. You are amazing at it and yes, thanks to that I have very little to do on average when it comes to management." She makes him lookat her "But I got this. I can and will manage stuff. Lessen your load."

Ccino frowns and mutters "I cna handle it... I did it before..."

Robin nods "I know... but you don't have to Ccino. At least not alone. Please let me help."

Ccino sighs and nods "Okay... I... Okay... You know?" He isn't sure what he is asking.

Robin grins "Got the schedule memorised. Now... What will you do?"

Ccino looks back to the ground as he tugs on his fingers... The wrapping stands out against his other white bones. "I... I am going to check on him... After that I go to bed..."

Robin nods as she gets up and pulls him back to his feet "That is the spirit! go make sure your boyfriend is okay!" she grins and rushes off with a wave.

"He isn't my..." But she is already gone.

Ccino sighs as he rubs his throbbing head... Just a bit longer.. That is all...

He walks through the halls. He nears a turn but just turns towards a wooden panel. Just a small push and the panel shifts aside as he climbs in and he rushes in. The tunnel is cramped but thankfully cool. There are quite a few spiderwebs... Ccino will have to check wiht some of the spider monsters if these are relatives or if they need to do a more throughout cleaning.

He exits the tunnel and feels his soul do little flips in his chest. No stop. Don't be weird. It is... Nothing changed. He is still the same. They are still the same. They are just colleagues... maybe friends if he really pushes the definition. And that is fine. It was what Ccino wanted after all. Helps him focus. Helps him stay on the job. Helps him not grow attached for when people leave again and-

"Ccino."

he stops and turns around. Horror is here? No stop. of course Horror is here. Killer is here which means one of the knights visits often to amke sure he is okay. Usually it is Dust but horror is not uncommon to see around.

Ccino nods and gives the small half bow. Muscle memory kicking in "Sir Lion. What can I be of help with?" and he rises again.

Horror looks around before answering "Error's spell managed to get a signal. We are grabbing our supplies and leaving."

Shock.

He hadn't... He thought. He had thought the spell was still in the development stage-

Or it was two days ago... Something about it not being powerful enough... Did they figure it out? Had they had a plan? why dind't they tell him-

No stop. doens't matter. it doesn't matter. You got no plac ein this. Don't make it about you.

Ccino nods "That is well. Are you in need of any supplies?"

Horror shakes his skull "Dust is grabbing the few things we need and preparing the horses. Cross is talking with the Captain and sharing the location together with Error. Captain Rogers will be able to follow us with the reinforcements later."

Ccino nods. That had been the plan. The Knights move out to secure Nightmare. The guard moves out to capture those who attacked to begin with. The Knights strike hard and fast to enable success.

They don't care if this rebel group escapes and tries again. They know about them now and they will be better prepared to defend.

Getting Ngihtmare back takes priority.

Though.

Ccino frowns as he looks at Horror "You mean Sir Cross will go as well? Shouldn't he still be resting?" It is still ahrd to not call Cross Snow Leopart. Ccino had sat with Nightmare as Nightmare went over so many different animals that may fit and than later the list the mask maker had given him. Nightmare had been so proud to manage to settle on Snow Leopart. But the mask is still being made and so it is not exactly known just yet.

horror chuckles as he looks back up fondly "There is no stopping him. He did swear he will rest and not move out of the medical area for a full week when he is back"

Ccino knows he is frowning "Well... I do think it is unwise and risky but you three will know better if he will be able to help." He waits for a moment before speaking "However... if there is nothing I can help you with..." and he looks pointedly at Horror. He doesn't want to ask it ouright but why did Horror search him out.

Horror looks much more bothered as he rubs his neck "It is just... We wanted to... Ask you... We know you are busy." He looks down with guilt before looking back at him "Can you make sure Killer is fine? We know he is healing and he needs to just sleep but... It would be a load of our mind if you could check on him." He looks so troubled. Guilty as if he is asking for a terrible thing.

Ccino is... surprised... They just want him to check up on Killer? That... "That will be no problem. I will make sure to check in on him."

Horror just looks more troubled "It is just that... Dust seems convinced that Killer cna hear us you know... it would be nice if you could... tell him some stuff. Just small stuff... Nothing too long or bothersome it is just... Dust seems sure that Killer takes comfort in hearing us."

Ccino frowns but nods "If Sir Panther is sure." It wouldn't be the strangest thing. Ccino knows he has seen stranger stuff. One of which was Killer returning to life in matter of fact. He nods again as he speaks his answer in more words "I will make sure to talk to him." And if Dust really is right. Ccino likes the idea of bringing a bit of comfort to him. Even if it is just to talk about some of the boring days as servant.

Pure relieve covers his face "Thank you Ccino. It... It means a lot." He sighs and chuckles "When all of this is over we will need a break."

Ccino can't help but agree easily "I am sure our... king." he only paused for a second "Will be ready to give all three of you time off to spend time recovering."

Horror nods and sighs "It would be nice... Thanks again Ccino." a more boyish and mischivious grin "Finally get why they call you miracle worker." and he leaves.

Ccino sighs as he rubs his head "I am not... I don't..." He doesn't really make miracles happen... He is just creative in his solutions. He watches the hallway for a moment longer but it is quiet.

So very quiet.

He turns back around and continues his path. He gets to the wing with the healing bay easily but he stops. His mind spinning.

They will leave soon.

They will find Nightmare.

Oh how Ccino wishes he could go wiht them. To get to Nightmare. To hold him close and tell him it is okay. That he is safe again. But he would just get in the way. He would just be someone they would ahve to keep an eye on and be in danger.

He would endanger the mission.

His mind calls Ngihtmare to the front. So scared and alone... Would he even be allowed to keep his things? Would he be all alone without anything to bring him comfort? would they have taken his cloak? he has had his cloak since his crowning. It was meant to just make him look the part but for some reason it was a source of comfort for Nightmare.

Ccino wants to believe they wouldn't take his things. That they would look at Nightmare and see that young teen that he is. That they would at least be gentle and try their best to take care of him.

But he knows not everyone is nice to children. No matter how young they are. His own back aches with the memory.

No... It is unlikely that nightmare will have something to hold close to comfort him. To help calm him down. Exposed to everyone as his mask got broken and-

Ccino looks up and looks back the way he came. If he is fast. He walks away from the healing bay. He is two steps further when a few branches wihtin the walls, the very wall that looks like solid stone, moves and seem to wave in an nonexisting wind.

Ccino doesn't think as he mutters "My room please... Than the Knights." The wall shudders and caves inwards. A tunnel appears right before his eyes and he walks in, the walls behind him melt shut again and he walks through darkness. Just like always there is nothing to trip him. It is smooth and straight forwards. There is no rough incline or ramp. There is no sudden twist. There is nothing in his way.

The wall opens and the light floats his vision for a moment. It blind shim aside from these bright flashes as his skull throbs again. Right... No sleep.

He rushes to his bed and careully kneels beside it. He reaches under it and pulls out a small wooden box. He clicks it open adn inside lays it. The White Cat mask. On a velvet pillow, dark green in colour. A protective pillow on the top of the case as well.

He takes it out and the silver coloured ribbons are still as soft as ever.

He stares at the hollow eyes of the cat for a moment before getting up again. He turns towards a wall and a new tunnel is already ready for him.

He follows it and leaves the wall near the courtyard. Dust stands with his three horses, ccino beleives it are Basalt, Pearl and Limestone, each one being one of their personal horses.

Dust is already on Pearl's back and sees to be staring right ahead. A look of pure concentration on his face. Ccino never could feel the other's magic, but from what Nightmar ehad told him it was often overwhelming and the pressure got very high. Ccino has no doubt the other was planning to use that same power against those who stood against them.

He does however also see Error sitting behind Dust. focussing on the spell up in the sky as he seems to tug on a few strings. He wishes he understood magic better...

Doesn't matter.

His sight finds Horror and he marches over.

horror is tyign a small pack to the horse when he looks over worry covers his face "is something..." he seems scares to speak the last word for his question.

Ccino knows however what he is asking "Nothing is wrong. I just..." He hesitates for a moment before taking out his mask and hadning it to Horror. Hroror stares at it in awe and shock.

Ccino is honestly surprised is voice is even when he speaks "For our king. He lost his mask when he was taken. He will find comfort in not being exposed." and hopefully the familiar mask will bring him some comfort as well.

Horror nods and tugs it away in his armour "I... Yes... thank you... We will rbing him back"

He doesn't understnad why he thanks him. Instead he nods "Just bring him home..." Wiht that he turns and returns to the castle. He still.. He still needs...

The wall opens as soon as he turns a corner. Ccino walks in wihtout hesitation.

He exists right by the healing bay. His hand shakes when he opens the door.

Two different monsters look up. They smile as one stands up. A small monster, a red panda to be precise, smiles brightly at him "Mister Ccino Sir!" they immediantly blush in embarrassement. They are still very new to their position. Honestly the fact they remained after the fight is a good sign.

Ccino gives a small smile and small bow "Good day to all of you. I hope you have been well?"

The red panda monster, they never did introduce themselves fully, mutters and tugs on their clothes. Somethign about it being nice and calm and finally quiet again. By then the muttering gets so quiet that even Ccino can't figure it out anymore.

Laura, a peacock monster, looks at the other fondly as she walks over "Happy to have you sir! I am happy to report that we fired most of our patients. They are now on normal best rest schedules and will start up their training routine slowly." she looks very proud.

Ccino smiles and gives a nod "Any long term injuries?"

Laura shakes her head "No deaths and no long term injuries. The system Captain Rogers put in to always have a group of at least three near each other ended up saving the lives of about seventeen different people. As they were able to stabilise their group members long enough for help to arrive." Her smile drops "Well... Almost no long term injuries."

Cold sweat on the back of his neck. His breathing goes abit faster. He digs his own nails into his palm. Stay in the here and now. Don't fall apart. "How is Sir Tiger?" his voice isn't as even as he would like... There is a small edge of panic in there and it shouldn't be. He needs to project calm and control to help others remain calm and relaxed. If he is freaking out others will freak out as well.

Laura sighs "It isn't going better."

The red panda holds up their hands "Not worse either!! Just... No real progress. Everything is still stable but well.. there is nothing we can do except wait..." and they look down.

Ccino's throat feels blocked. It is hard to find his voice. To get it to speak "I see. We will have to be patient in that case. Keep supplies on hand for when he wakes up and can tell us how he feels." Please... "Could I see him?" please. Please just a moment.

Laura nods "That is alright. Not like you are bothering anyone now that it is just our Knight here with us." she looks relaxed as hse stretches "I am going to work on my files. Ria?" She looks at the red panda.

They shoot upright "Yes Ma'am?"

Laura nods towards the shelves "Can you make sure to fill everything up again and check the inventory?" Ria, so that is their name, nods and rushes off.

Ccino frowns as he looks at Laura "I thought Solus usually did that?"

Laura nods "He would. but he spend the whole night helping patients. He is catching up wiht lost sleep." she walks towards the office "You know where to find me for questions!" and she walks away.

He is left alone.

It isn't that he... dislikes them... They are nice. all three of them are.

It is just...

He hates being near anything medical or healers.

He walks over towards the private room. He knocks on the door before opening it "It is just me."

Killer is laying in the bed. Completely still. His mask next to him on his nightstand. There are different things conencted to him. Something about measuring his health and magic levels. Ccino isn't sure. He knows it got explained but he hadn't been all there for the explanation.

He pulls over the chair near the bed and sits in it by Killer ".... They are going... They will probably have left by now... They are going to get him back..." That is the most important part. Make sure Killer, if he can hear him, knows that.

Ccino doesn't know if he wants Killer to be able to hear them. Maybe it would be better if Killer didn't. If Killer was in a sleep deep enough that he doens't fully notice anythng around him. That for him it will truly be like blinking and falling asleep before being present again.

It would also be better for Ccino. Because otherwise Killer would know how often Ccino is here. How often he visits him.

At least he ahdn't done something as stupid and selfish as confessing.

Imagine.

Killer only just waking up? Hearing that Ccino managed to keep him alive until the healers could help him. Killer will probably always feel like he owns ccino something when he doesn't. And then hearing Ccino has a crush on him? Ccino doens't want to think that Killer would jsut... Try to... make it up or pay his debt or seomthign stupid...

There is nothing there. There can not be anything there. Killer is one of Ngihtmare's most trusted and precious people. Nightmare himself said as much once. Ccino is just the manager of the castle adn at most Nightmare's old babysitter.

Even if it felt as so much more. Even if he loves both those twins so much. Ccino isn't stupid or naive enough to forget his place.

He crosses his arms as he leans on the bed. Next to the other. He is breathing even. In and out. In and Out. in and Out. No hurry. No stuttering. No gasps and groans.

He is much too quiet.

His soul at least regained its colour. It is bright and red and... in a circle.

A bulleye shape.

It makes Ccino nervous. Killer's soul isn't that shape. Well it is sometimes. But every time Ccino saw him it was always in this more soul shaped shape. The characteristic upside down heartshape. Sure it wobbles and moves and shivers but Ccino just thought that was part of Killer. Killer who is energetic and always moving and always talking and laughing and experiencing life. Part of him being loud and having fun.

His soul is so still now. So even.

Had he messed something up?

When Ccino... When he touched that...

He can still rememebr how it felt.

How it hadn't hurt.

He takes a glance at his own hand and rubs his palm. Not a single mark. Not even a bruise.

He had been rushed here the day after that terrible first night. To check him in case of injury for the emergancy first aid to a soul. but there hadn't been any mark left.

No burns from the contact. No drain from his own magic. No shift in his magic hue.

It truly had... had seemed like...

ccino sneaks a look at Killer "I don't get it... Were you... there enough to realise that I was trying to help you? That you knew you could trust me? but then... how did you keep the instinct to protect your soul from harming me."

He just doens't understand.

Ccino lays his hand back down and lays his skull in his crossed arms.

He doens't understand.

But he will wait.

He is good at that. Waiting.

[baenakinskywalker]

hungry like the wolf

chapter one: straddle the line

"That was Prime Minister Thatcher. Personally.” “What could she possibly need?” If the rude interruption during his bath wasn’t enough to ruin his night, what Gerald shares with him next certainly is: “She wants to dine at Penscombe. In a week’s time.” or, Rupert hires Taggie to cater a very important dinner for the PM. She'll need plenty of time to prepare — so how does a week at his estate sound?

rating: t (eventual E)

words: 2,749

a/n: a HUGE thank-you to @popjunkie42 and @berd-nerd for beta reading, and to everyone in the @rutagdiscord for hyping me up. you all rock. <3

read under the cut or on ao3!

Rupert-Campbell Black is in the bathtub when he gets the call from the PM’s office. Or rather, when Gerald, who had been finishing up paperwork for tomorrow’s morning in London, gets the call. He barges into the bathroom, and Rupert greets him with narrow eyes and a deep frown.

“You can tell I’m in the middle of something,” he says, gesturing to himself with the one hand not coated in bubbles. Unlike some men in Rutshire, Rupert is serious about his baths. He doesn’t just stew in hot water — he lazes in bubbles, salts, and potions. Of course for the benefits to his skin and hair — and to soothe the aching muscles his career in show jumping so blessed him with. 

Gerald has never been part of this particular ritual. 

“I’m so sorry, sir, but it’s urgent.”

Rupert stands immediately. “What? Is someone hurt? The kids?” He reaches for a towel, but Gerald’s eyes are already wide as saucers. “Is it Taggie?”

“Erm, no, sir, it’s not that sort of urgent.” His eyes find a spot on the floor as Rupert steps over the lip of the clawfoot tub, bringing suds with him onto the checkered marble floor. “But it’s important. That was Prime Minister Thatcher. Personally.”

“What could she possibly need?”

If the rude interruption during his bath wasn’t enough to ruin his night, what Gerald shares with him next certainly is: “She wants to dine at Penscombe. In a week’s time.”

The groan Rupert lets out will surely be heard all the way in Yorkshire. “Why in God’s name does she want to come all the way to Rutshire?” He’s already hunting for the reason she would have to fire him. It would have to be bad for her to do it in person, to embarrass him on his own turf. But Venturer has kept him largely out of mischief as of late — so what could it be?

“Apparently the bid is a concern. So she wants the local MPs and lords to convene — here, obviously — and assure her that everybody will be on their best behavior during the parliamentary session, whether they’re with Corinium or Venturer.”

“Right. And that has to be here because…?”

“She said she was interested in the grounds,” Gerald answers, the lilt to his voice turning it into a question.

“No,” Rupert says slowly, “she just wants to make my life a living hell.” He scrubs a hand down his face, stubble rough against his fingers. Definitely time for a shave.  “Fine,” he concedes. “We’ll play her game  — but I’m inviting people, too, if I’m hosting”

“Venturer people, sir?” 

Rupert nods. “And if this is going to put a thorn in my side, I’d at least like the food to be good.”

“Which caterer shall I call?”

“Nobody,” Rupert says. “I’ll handle it.”

—

Since Tony’s accident — which is what the papers have been calling it at the behest of the Baddingham estate, no doubt to attempt to keep his affair out of the news — things have been…different. There’s Tony’s renewed lease on life, and his narrow escape from divorce, though word around town is that Monica still wants to leave (and the gossip mill of Rutshire would certainly support her if she did). Neither of these developments have encouraged him to let the franchise go, though. If anything, his contempt for Venturer is at an all-time high. 

So it’s a wonder that the papers have left them out of it. The story simply goes: Thank God Cameron Cook happened to be in the office that late and had the good sense to check on her former boss before heading home for the night.

The whole thing has Cameron spooked, which is why she’s currently wooing investors and producers in New York City. It’s a cowardly thing to do, but Rupert’s been using the situation — and the Atlantic Ocean — to let things fizzle. They haven’t seen each other in a month, and while phone calls used to happen a few times a week, it’s been a fortnight since they last spoke. Declan is her main point of contact for all things Venturer now. 

And then there’s Taggie. With the accident, and Cameron, and the franchise, they haven’t had the time to talk about…well, anything non-Venturer related. He thinks she might still be seeing Seb. He thinks she thinks he’s still seeing Cameron. 

That doesn’t mean she’s not the first thing he thinks about in the morning (waking up hard, remembering that kiss, and that dance on New Year’s Eve, and all of the moments in between that haven’t quite been platonic) and last thing he thinks about at night (looking out across the Bluebell Wood, hoping to catch a glimpse of her light on in the Priory, thinking about how she looks tucked into bed). 

They gravitate toward each other during Venturer meetings. Through the yelling, the late nights crowded around the O’Hara dining table, the moments when they’re celebrating a win, Rupert’s eyes and body are drawn to her. When dinners with Freddie and team end, it’s Rupert in the kitchen helping with the washing up. He can only hope the rest of the team doesn’t notice, that they don’t pick up on the something between them like Lizzie and Bas have.

Remarkably, he hasn’t kissed her since the night they got the green light for the franchise bid. 

With that in mind, Rupert has no idea if Taggie will accept. It’s a fantastic opportunity, and he’ll see to it that it’s a well-paying one at that. If nothing else, she deserves the acclaim and networking that will surely come from catering for the PM. This could be a step toward getting out of her family’s shadow. Toward living life for herself, instead of waiting on Declan and the Venturer crew hand and foot.

But it’s a huge ask, especially when he couples it with the infinitely more selfish piece, the piece that came to him in the middle of the night when one of the snoring dogs woke him up: He wants her at Penscombe for the week. The whole week. Just the two of them, just this once.

He wants her, and, like they say, opportunity never knocks twice.

—

Despite Taggie and Declan being the only O’Haras in residence at the Priory, it’s almost foreign to see the estate empty these days. Sure, Caitlin’s back at school, Patrick’s off trying his hand at being a not-quite-starving artist, and Maud is — for better or worse — still in London; but the Venturer crew is always around. Whether it’s Declan, Rupert, and Freddie debating about the purpose and importance of television, Bas and Wesley working out which sporting events get prime-time slots, or Dame Enid toiling away at the piano with ideas for the station’s musical package, there’s always a lot going on. So it’s still shocking to walk through the doors and be met with nobody. Not even Gertrude.

It’s not until he rounds the corner into the living room that he sees why. Taggie’s curled up with Gertrude on the couch while reruns of Four Men Went to Mow play low on the telly. 

This is a rare treat and his favorite way to start the day: catching Taggie before she’s had a chance to jump into the kitchen, before she’s so much as put on a pot of tea. She’s in a white terry cloth bathrobe and slouchy, fuzzy socks — the picture of comfort. “Good morning, angel. Daddy lets you watch that rubbish?” 

“Oh, shit!” Her head whips around, and Gertrude stands at attention, ready to sound the alarm. “You scared me,” Taggie says. Her cheeks turn a beautiful flushed pink, and while frightening her is the last thing he’d ever do on purpose, he can’t deny the effects are a vision. “Gertrude might have taken your head off.”

He comes around the couch and gives the little beast a scratch behind the ears. “No, this one loves me.” 

Taggie stands, and where her robe parts, he sees the same red nightie that’s haunted his dreams for months now. She pulls him into a hug and says a quiet, “Good morning,” that has Rupert thinking about this same scenario happening in an estate across the wood, with a few more dogs in the room. “Can I get you some tea?”

He clears his throat, stepping back. The backs of his knees bump the couch. “No, actually, I just came here to ask a favor.”

She cocks her head to this side and tightens the sash on her robe. “From me?” “How would you like,” Rupert starts, “to cook for the Prime Minister?”

It’s silent for a beat. And then: “Margaret Thatcher?”

“Only PM I know of at the moment,” Rupert answers. He shifts from one foot to the other and adds, “It’s a week from tomorrow, and I thought — if you’re up for it — that you could stay at Penscombe — which is where dinner will be — until then to get your bearings and have uninterrupted time to prepare. And Gertrude, too, of course,” he adds, giving the pup a quick smile.

She stares at him like he’s grown another head. “For the Prime Minister.” Rupert nods.

“To eat my cooking.” 

“And Paul Stratton, and Tony, and some of ours, too — Freddie, Lord and Lady Hampshire, and your father.”

It’s then that Declan makes an appearance from his study. Hair going in every direction. Yesterday’s button-down stained. Eyes bloodshot. Another late night working through his book draft and franchise work. “What the fuck is this?” he asks, looking between the two of them. 

Before Declan has the chance to raise his voice, Taggie shocks him. She nods. “Yes, of course I’ll go.” Wringing her hands, she smiles slowly. “It would be my p-p—p…privilege.”

Rupert’s shit-eating grin is enough to make Declan drag him into the study, the sound of the door thudding behind him all that knocks him out of his Taggie-induced stupor. 

—

“I’m just offering her a job,” Rupert says, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Declan scoffs. “What, to warm your bed? I don’t fucking think so.”

“You really think that little of Taggie?” It’s clear that Declan’s mind is made up about him, no matter how closely they’ve been working together over the past months, nor how well Venturer’s bid is going. Rupert would call them friends, though not close enough to keep a woman — daughter — from coming between them. He expects his business partner to have qualms about his interest in Taggie. But to assume that Taggie would allow herself to be bought? 

Even if there’s a kernel of truth to Rupert’s motives, even if he does want to steal her away from the Priory forever and keep her in every sort of comfort a man can offer, this isn’t how he’d do it. This is temporary.

(There would be roses. There would be candles. A family heirloom ring that he never offered Helen. Perhaps a violin player. A four-course meal cooked by a complete stranger, dishes and kitchen scrubbed clean completely out of sight. An announcement in The Times.)

“I thought we agreed that you were going to stay the hell away from her,” Declan says. His voice cuts through the heavy air in his office, stale from days of taking meals at his desk to keep up with deadlines. Taggie says she hardly sees her father on days when there are no meetings, unless she catches him sneaking into the kitchen for a top-up of his whiskey glass.

“And I thought we were fucking past this.” Rupert exhales. He’d love to open the windows and tidy the papers littered across every horizontal surface. “I only need her for a week.”

They both know he’s lying.

“A week for one bloody dinner party?”

“Maggie making the trip makes it a special occasion, wouldn’t you say? Everything has to be perfect, which means Taggie needs time to plan the menu, do the prep, coordinate with the staff — not to mention getting acquainted with the kitchen.”

“And you couldn’t host here?” 

Rupert shoots him a sympathetic look. “Frankly, a week wouldn’t be nearly enough time to get the Priory in shape for the PM.”

“Why don’t you hire a real caterer?” Declan prods. “One with a full team, one that can handle this sort of event.” 

There’s now a throbbing in Rupert’s temple. If only he could find paracetamol in this mess of an office. Certainly, Declan has some in here. “Taggie’s the best cook in Rutshire. Cotchester, too. And,” he adds, feeling his headache grow, “she’s the only person I trust to handle such a sensitive event.” 

For a long moment, the two men stare at each other. This is how arguments about Venturer go, too. Shouting, debating, and, finally, silence — until the loser concedes, and they both move on. But Rupert is short on time and patience. 

“I didn’t come here asking for your permission, Declan. Tag’s already agreed, and I shouldn’t have to remind you that she’s grown enough to make her own decisions.” 

Declan’s face settles into a deep frown. 

“Well,” Rupert says, “I’m off, then.”

Before the heavy door shuts completely behind him, Declan’s voice booms. “Imagine it were your daughter — what would you do?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Through the living room and into the kitchen, Rupert spies his angel sitting at the table, changed from her robe into her typical jeans and jumper, methodically writing on a legal pad. “I didn’t hear him throw you through a wall,” she says, putting the pencil down and looking up through her lashes. “So that must have gone okay.” “Your father’s a reasonable man.” But he says it with a laugh that has Taggie rolling her eyes and smiling up at him. 

Imagine it were your daughter. 

All but impossible, given the glow of her smile, the way her eyes sparkle. The memory of kissing her mere meters from where they are right now. 

Though they haven’t had time for a repeat performance, there’s an encore in his mind most nights before he falls asleep: The curtain rises, and there’s Taggie in that fucking milkmaid dress, pressed so close to him he can feel her tits against his chest. If he’d had the time, he would have slid a knee between her legs, would’ve let her ride him right there until she —

“Did you hear me?” Taggie asks. The memory of that night evaporates, and Rupert clears his throat.

“Sorry, angel. I was just — erm — thinking about something your father said.”

“Oh,” she says, mouth forming a perfect circle. It makes him want to reach down and trace the outline of her lips with his thumb. “Well, I was mentioning that maybe a smoked salmon mousse after the prawn cocktail would be good? Unless that’s too cliche.” Her brow furrows, and she erases something on the pad. 

To tell the truth, he doesn’t give a damn if it’s cliche. As long as it’s Taggie cooking, it’ll be a smash hit. “Working out the menu already?” 

“I thought getting a head start would be a–a–” — she pauses, takes a breath — “appropriate.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Smart girl.” Already, Rupert feels his headache receding. He thinks of her writing out a menu at Penscombe, working through each word on the page slowly and methodically. How easily he’d be able to slip behind her and press a kiss to her cheek. Or neck. Or lower. 

She would be a vision at Penscombe. Will be. 

“I have a little work to do in London today,” Rupert says. “Some things for our dear friend Maggie, and a few Venturer items. But I’ll be back to pick you up around 8 o’clock. Sounds good?”

Taggie nods. “I’ll pack my bag. And Gertrude’s,” she adds with a smile. “She won’t know what to do with herself when she meets your brood.”

“I’ll tell the chaps to be on their best behavior.” Then, without thinking about his daughter or Declan, he kisses the crown of her head. She sighs in a satisfied answer, and Rupert imagines how a simple kiss could become a habit so ingrained in their day-to-day life that it’d become like breathing. 

She’s already like breathing.

From the office, there’s a rustle of paper and a shout. “Tag! D’you know where my Yeats draft went?” More than enough of a cue to leave. So, with a wink and wave, Rupert’s gone. 

Just until tonight.

[netzieart]

Yes a red flags animatic at this day and age [it's dottochi]

[worflesbian]

Shame is the shadow of love

[try-set-me-on-fire]

you and me, we got our own sense of time

[margindoodles2407]

you may have one (1) frodo baggins

@whyoneartheven @seeking-elsewhither

[waitineedaname]

Ten years following the Promised Day, Ling and Ed finally get the chance to talk, just the two of them. It doesn't go in the direction Ling expected.

poly rights 👍

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

*taps microphone* is this thing on? Okay…

🎤 THIS IS A REMINDER THAT ALL OF THE ROBINS ARE SMART, GENIUSES IN FACT. THEY ARE IN A FAMILY OF DETECTIVES. THATS LIKE THEIR WHOLE THING. ALL OF THE ROBINS (AND THE REST OF THE BATFAM TOO) ARE CLEVER, STRATEGIC, AND CAPABLE, NOT JUST TIM. (No hate to my boy Tim, though. I love Tim.) YES, EVEN THAT ONE. Thank you. 🎤

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LESBIANS: 2x08 - “Killing is a Cycle”

[utilitycaster]

wmata you may want to rethink your phrasing

[blabberoo]

;]

[mythtakens]

“these characters should be mentally healthy before they get together 😌” ummm no I actually think we should smash their mental illnesses together like clumps of play-doh and see what colors it makes

[fyodior]

a talking point i often see when defending the consumption of dark content is that it’s a coping mechanism for those with trauma which is very valid and true but i also want to make this abundantly clear: you can like dark content for no reason. you can enjoy fucked up shit in fiction because it’s enjoyable and entertaining. trauma is not required as a ticket for entry. enjoy your dark content bc it’s fun and sexy and don’t let anyone take that away from you

[murataesque]

How I found out about trump getting shot

[james-p-sullivan]

the older i get and the closer i am to reaching 30, the more the people around me try to deny me my age. it’s a constant ‘oh you’re just turning 29 again teehee 🤭’ or ‘dont tell your SO that, he’ll leave you for a younger model 😉’ and i just???? hate it?????????

i spent my entire teenaged years fighting for my life. i crawled through the deepest pits of my depression to cling to the promise of a life beyond that pain. i was so convinced that i was going to die young, that i would never see the grace of my age starting with a 2, let alone 3.

so im going to turn 30, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from loving it.

[monkesupreme]

ref

a satisfactory answer for Selina