#but in a bonkers turn of events I may have a full three days with no pressing activities and maybe I can churn out a little sex pollen-esque

[nacreousor]

joining the pitt fandom at such a crux of busy in my life when I have no time to write is so devastating bc none of my pitt followers know what a horny little stoner prose freak writer I am 😞

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty || 19

Aces and Spades

Smut Warning

May

Three times every Summer, the grounds of Buckingham Palace are awash with scones and fascinators as the Queen hosts her annual garden parties. The events recognise those in public service — so guests include charities, organisations, and the civil service. As Queen, this is now MY garden party.

Just under a year ago, my father was hosting this identical garden party in debut to telling everyone who my boyfriend and soon to be husband was. Unfortunately, it didn't go as planned, nor did the series of unfortunate events that followed suit.

Today, there's a distinctive atmosphere to the event. It isn't as articulated and controlled. Today it's an event that doesn't bother me as much as it worries Harry. He despises events held at the Palace because it implies there's constantly a flow of people in and out of the grounds. The garden parties customarily host around eight thousand guests, but today we have a little extra. Harry has been operating nonstop doing his dues for the Palace, revising plans with Matthew and specific insurrections for today in case of emergency.

I wander the grounds, viewing as the staff hustle around in an attempt to make sure the settings are immaculate. Finally, the tents are up, the flower arrangements are in sequence, and all that is left is for the food and little things to be settled into place. I beam as the crew pass me, their hands abundant with an array of various items. They do deserve so much acknowledgement for these functions. Without the team, these events wouldn't transpire. They indeed are the masterminds behind it all.

I have not possessed substantial control over the garden party. I know my mother habitually plans the event for my Father, but my mother had no desire to plan the event to the extent she usually does due to circumstances. I enabled the staff to plan the event and have most of the say with all decorations and foods. The only thing I requested was for my father’s chosen flower to be the tables' centrepieces. He always loved blue orchids, so did I, but that is one of the flowers not grown in the gardens. Perhaps the reason for him not desiring orchids in the gardens is because, in Victorian-era England, the orchid was a symbol of luxury and decadence— My father never threw around his luxuries, he never overstepped and became entitled or snobby, he stayed humble throughout his life as a royal. The colour blue is associated with peace and tranquillity, something that my father did not observe towards the end of his life. I believe orchids to be elegant of all colours, no matter their meaning or their status of luxury or wealth.

"Excuse me, can you help me?" I discover a bass voice question. Without a second thought, I turn on my heel to recognise a gentleman carrying boxes stacked higher than he can view.

I take the top box from him, allowing him the ability to meet my gaze. The man has voyager-blue eyes that are as clear as a fresh pond. Although they are vibrant and clear, something about him is cloudy, something I can't quite put my finger down on. His eyes are beautiful, but I can't ignore the unsettling feeling he leaves me with when he makes eye contact with me.

"Oh, my, your highness, I am so sorry," the man begins to apologise profoundly.

I draw my gaze from his eyes, scared I have spent too much time staring into the eyes of a man who has a front that I cannot figure out. Staring into the eyes of someone can lure you deeper into a pit you don't always want to be in. "Don't mention it," I shake my head, staring at the rest of his figure for a moment, attempting to grasp where he's from. He appears familiar, but I'm not sure what about him is drawing my curiosity.

"I'm trying to get these insides before they dry out."

"What are they?" I question, beginning to walk back towards the palace doors.

"Flower centrepieces for the tables," I'm informed.

I gawk at the man and nod my head, my emotions wanting to take grasp of me, but I halt them in their track. This is a felicitous day; there is no room for tears or sad emotions. In my hands, I hold the orchids that I insisted on, and for a brief moment, I don’t feel alone in the royal world. I feel the sense of tranquillity and peace wash over me. I don’t think my Father ever intended for things to pan out the way they have; he had no intentions of surrendering me into this world of monarchy distress. It happened, and I can do this.

We reach the palace doors, and I slide my finger over the thump print. I shift the large, gold-lined door, enabling the man to wander into the Palace before me. "Thank you. You can place it right here. I'll come back for the box."

"Do you know where you're going?" I raise a brow, unsure how this poor man will discover his way around the Palace. Sometimes I still get lost roaming the Palace grounds. This place is like a horrible maze to newcomers.

"Uh, well, no. I don't believe your highness should be carrying boxes. So I figured I'd get inside and wait for someone to help me."

I lift my shoulders into a shrug. Carrying a box or two isn't going to kill me. "Excuse me," I seize the awareness of one of the manor staff affiliates, "Would you mind showing this gentleman where he needs to go? He has the centrepieces for the tables."

"Certainly," The staff member nods, taking the box from my hands.

I leave the two of them to figure things out, making my way back upstairs to my room.

♛ ♛ ♛

The trek to my room is reserved and tranquil, something that is quite surprising. I expected to run into Madeleine or Louis attempting to sneak around the Palace in an attempt to keep their relationship ambiguous. I know what is going on between them, so does Harry, but the two of them act as though they are smug for trying to keep their relationship quiet. I think the award for best relationship honoured quiet is mine and Harry's. We did manage to fool my parents and the monarch.

I travel down the long-drawn hallways adorned with various paintings and decorations, the man, however, in my thoughts and driving me bonkers. Perhaps it was the eyes, but I want to know more. I am intrigued; I crave to learn who he is.

Is he a florist?

Is he attending the event?

What is his name?

I shake my obsessive thoughts away as I find myself at my door. I unlock the door with ease and step into my quiet room, just as equally bewildered. I suspected my room to be bustling with staff striving to shove me into a dress and get my hair done. Instead, I regard Harry on our bed with the covers draped over half his body and no staff in my room.

This is a first.

"Did I wake you?" I challenge, noticing him move insignificantly between the soft sheets, the rays of the sun peeking through the sheer curtains, forcing their way through the crack of the blackout curtains.

"Mm, no, been awake for a few minutes," Harry responds tiredly and with a soft voice.

"Oh, I was just downstairs looking at the setup."

"I know," Harry responds, his hand gesturing towards his phone. "I can see the cameras from my phone. Just wish you wouldn't stand in the blind spots every bloody time," Harry softly snickers.

I roll my eyes as I shift the heavy, red curtains to each side to induce light into the room before I shuffle closer to the wrack of clothes that were left in my room last night for me to go through. I have seven dresses I can choose from to wear today, all of which have been pre-approved by my mother already. Even as Queen, I have to have my attire pre-approved by her. I don't think I'll ever be able to wear what I want without approval, no matter how long I reign. "Shouldn't you already be with Matthew?" I challenge, shocked Harry is still in bed at this hour.

Harry shakes his head, not bothering to move in the bed as I gaze at each dress, taking them off the wrack and holding them up. "No, I was allowed to sleep in," Harry responds.

"Which dress?" I turn around, holding up two dresses that I can’t decide on.

One is The Reiss Peacock dress with lace and cording embroidery detailing on the bodice, a wide neckline and a heavily lined, full skirt. The second dress is a red and white Alexander McQueen dress, with a knee-length skirt and slim-fit sleeves with white cuffs.

Harry moves insignificantly in the bed, the sheets sounding with each slight movement. Harry grimaces as he relaxes upon his forearms to get a better glimpse.

"The lace," Harry answers with a petite smile, "Swear your mother picks the most horrid dresses sometimes," Harry continues, relating to the green gown at the end of the wrack that I didn’t touch.

My mother has a way of trying to dress me up to par with royal protocol. I do my best to stick to the protocol without looking like I am in my sixties.

I am not entirely convinced that the only reason Harry is in bed is that he got the morning off. It is rare for him to still. be in bed, for the most part, on his day's off, he gets up and starts moving. Something about him doesn't seem quite right. Perhaps I am reading into things a little too much, but I feel uneasy when I shouldn't. Harry doesn't just take days off or stay in bed unless there is a reason for it. Sometimes it is to keep me occupied while protocol takes place, sometimes it is because he has worked too many hours and legally has to stand down, and other times, on that very off chance, it is because something isn't right with him.

"I can see you're stressing already. Relax."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Harry sighs and nods his head, "Yes, I'm a bit tired, that is all, I promise." ... "Your mother said I was to attend as a husband today. I never knew marrying you would entail your mother controlling my work schedule." Harry informs me, "I am not mad, just amused. She won't do this often, will she?"

I shrug my shoulders in response. I am not sure why my mother decided to inform Harry that today was an event as a husband. I am confident she has some purpose. I can only imagine she is delighted to show him off as her son-in-law to the several people who do know. Perhaps she intends to show the world that we are together, I am not quite sure. I frankly do not want the media and the people to draw much attention to us. I know the balcony from the night of my coronation has people talking, but I don't want the spotlight on us or myself. I don't want the spotlight at all.

My door opens, and my ladies-in-waiting unobtrusively walk in, smiles adored across their lips and bright eyes as they notice the dress I have chosen. I don't know how they appreciate the process of getting me ready and looking like a royal, I am over it, so I assume they would be too. From the anticipated expression on their faces, it is safe to say they relish this a lot more than I do.

"I am going to get for a walk or maybe get coffee, enjoy whatever you lot do," Harry gestures around us as my hair is already being touched and hairstyles discussed. Harry kisses my cheek and promptly leaves, allowing me to be forced into a chair.

The ladies assist me with getting prepared, making sure my hair, makeup, and attire match perfectly. They smile happily with each moment, asking questions to help prepare me for any sort of conversations that may take place. They enjoy the questions and keep me occupied so that I don't freak myself out. I chuckle and roll my eyes as Eleanor exposes the glass boxes that contain jewellery pieces. "She wants to wear a tiara," Harry pipes up, ultimately making himself known in the room after his coffee walk.

I raise a brow and shake my head, "No," I mouth to Eleanor.

"The sapphire one that I like." Harry presses.

"The Dubai Looped Sapphire Demi-Parure?" Eleanor challenges with a raised brow as we all glance at him. He doesn't typically comment when the ladies are around. He tends to let them do their job and choose for me unless otherwise specified.

Harry nods his head and steps closer to me, placing a warm cup in my hand, the scent of tea filling my senses. This man always knows when to bring me what beverage.

"I will have Matthew get it from the vault with the earrings," Eleanor smiles, and I nod my head. "Now for the dress," Eleanor gestures towards the dress that I picked out.

Eleanor helps me into the dress; it doesn't take much assistance, unlike some of the ball gowns I have had to wear in the past. This dress is quite simple and slips on perfectly. The only issue is the buttons down the back.

I glance over and view Harry once again grimacing as he stretches his shirt around to draw the sleeve up to his arm. Then, finally, he catches my stare and softly grins, "You look lovely," he compliments me as Eleanor proceeds to button up my dress from the back, tightening it with every moment.

"You look like you're in pain."

"Just a little sore, it's normal," Harry shakes his head, "Plus, this suit is not my usual look. It's not black." Harry half-smiles, attempting to hide the pain laced in his eyes.

Harry is notorious for wearing the same damn suit. I don't know why he wears the same one, he can afford to buy different suits, but he doesn't. I think he has duplicates of the same suit, to be honest. The man can afford to buy horses and have a nice car, but the man will not buy a different suit. He won't even change the colours. He is a simple man; a straight black and white suit is more than enough for him. I am surprised I got him to wear suspenders on our wedding day.

"Well, your hardcore black and white suit isn't going to cut it for today's event. Get over it."

"Feisty," Harry chuckles, "What am I meant to do? I am prepared as security, not a husband, so I need some pointers," Harry reminds me of the fact that he has not been introduced into the royal world as more than his career. He only understands how to act as my security detail. "Do I curtsey? Do I act posh? Do I carry one of those umbrella things around?" Harry questions. He is spiralling. The man who isn't frightened of much is somewhat panicking over how to present himself in the royal world.

I chuckle and shake my head, "Next, you're going to ask if you have to play polo."

"Well, if I do, I cannot, "... "Not only am I god awful, I can't play with my shoulder."

I roll my eyes as Harry works to arrange his tie, "Just act like you."

"The royal's do not want to see me as an asshole who will call a level four protocol if I seem fit."

"Harry," I breathe.

Harry huffs and shakes his head, "I like this better as security."

"Just stay with me, talk to people and try to enjoy yourself."

"There are thousands of people on the grounds. I cannot enjoy myself." Harry is in security mode and not husband mode. It doesn't matter how many people are on the grounds. It isn't his problem.

I restrain myself from glaring at him and huffing. Instead, I offer him a small smile to conceal my frustration, "Are you going to be a grumpy ass all day?"

"I am sorry," Harry sighs, "I will do my best."

I walk away from Eleanor and step to Harry, taking his suit jacket from his hand, "Allow me," I instruct, moving behind him and helping him put the jacket on without having to move his shoulder too much. I know he is in more pain than he leads on. I know he struggles daily with his shoulder; it seems to be getting worse.

Harry turns around and nods his head, "Thank you," he kisses my cheek.

"You should get your shoulder checked out again."

"When I have time," Harry responds, dismissing the conversation and stepping away from me instantly.

♛ ♛ ♛

The Palace is bustling with staff hurrying to get last-minute things under control, and the rest of us in the Palace are getting ready, more so the ladies adding any last-minute touches to things. For once, I am ready early and without restraints. I am not hurrying to find pantyhose or trying to find ways to see Harry before we are whisked away for a day apart.

I escort down the endless hallway, my heels silenced under the red carpet that has been rolled out for today's occasion. God forbid if this marble floor is scratched by anyone who cannot walk in heels.

When I recognise Harry walking in my direction, I smile to myself, his physique adorned with the navy blue suit he left my room in. He is dashing with a rascal's smile, and his hair is a casual jumble but mostly neat and flowing. Harry prowls typically around with a lion-like power when walking the halls, but today he eases about the hallways with grace, seeming more relaxed and not so dominant.

As he steps closer, Harry’s eyes are a-twinkle with the ‘Joie de vivre’ as he graces me with a confident smile.

I grasp Harry's hand and sway us away from the hallways leading to the event of people commencing to assemble outside in the gardens. I drag us into a hidden passageway with no warning.

"Why are we here?" Harry questions, confused as he locks the door behind him. “I didn’t call a protocol,” Harry informs me.

I lean up and kiss him fearlessly, wasting no time with my intentions.

"Anna," he draws away, gazing at me with bewildered eyes.

"Harry, I'm in a dress," I point out the obvious, motioning towards the white dress that caresses my body in the superfluous yet modest way.

Harry nods, "And you look lovely."

"I'm in a dress, so please, for the love of God, give me attention," I breathe out, "Give me you," I demand, causing him to raise a brow. "We have a few minutes." I remind Harry that we still have time before we need to make our entrance into the garden and begin mingling with people who have been invited.

"Right here?" He is shocked as he gestures around the passageway I have drawn him into without any sort of warning.

Sometimes, you have to do what you have to do. There is nowhere else that we will be adorned with privacy. My room is clustered with the staff cleaning up and taking out the dresses I did not choose, the team are all around the palace, and I am sure security has every damn camera working and being watched intently.

"Any other time and place we are interrupted, right here, right now," I confirm. “There are no cameras, no staff, no interruptions.”

Harry stands in front of me, blinking owlishly. I sigh and shake my head before moving to the side, my hand reaching for the door we entered from.

He isn’t interested.

Abruptly, he seizes me and pushes me against the wall. My back hits the wall as one hand cups my neck and the other rushes to my hip, leaving very little space between us. His lips waste no time with leaving rained kisses on my exposed skin, butterflies in my stomach soaring with every luscious kiss settled to my skin.

He caresses my shoulder and bequeaths a trail of kisses leading to my collar bone, my fevered skin shivering at each moment his raspberry-red lips leave their mark. I tilt my head to the side as he advances to kiss the slender skin column of my neck, producing a meagre exhale to escape my lips.

Finally.

He urges his body closer to mine, and my breath hitches in my throat while he bites my neck mildly, just enough to enthral me. My chest rises up and down, and I sense his breath brush my skin with every moment that transpires. He takes bold possession of my lips, kissing me vigorously and passionately with his sumptuous, sensuous and velour soft lips that drip with honey. My hands' haste to Harry's physique, which deserves to be on statues, chiselled by the greatest artists. My leg encloses around his body to draw him closer, a wild desire and yearning taking power. His hand drifts to cup my boob, my body continuing to advance into his as tongues slip and surge in superfluous movements.

He takes his palm and glides it up to my inner thigh, my dress being of no concern to him. He takes his time, welcoming every inch of my inner thigh that he can, feeling every inch like a map for him to follow. Finally, he discovers the lace beneath my dress, and my palms clutch his shoulders. He glides a finger across the lace, my leg wrapping tighter around him while the other holds me up, keening anticipation humming through my veins.

I draw away from our kiss and let out a breath, my chest rising rapidly as he teases me with extremely light glides across the lace. "How much do you want this?" Harry challenges with a soft voice and a grin on his face. "Because I don't think you want this enough."

"I need you, now," I murmur, my fingers burrowing into his shirt while he brushes his finger over the lace of my underwear.

"You sure?" … “Tell me how much you need me,” Harry instructs, gradually positioning himself on his knees and thoroughly pressing his hand to the back of my thigh.

“Don’t do this,” I whine as he begins to kiss my skin, slowly making his way up my thigh.

Harry gently squeezes his hand on the back of my inner thigh and leaves a few more sweet kisses on my skin. I tilt my head back, my mouth allowing a small groan to escape as I am enthralled with him getting closer and closer to where I want him.

“I’m still waiting,” Harry responds, his breath tapping my skin, driving me crazier.

"Harry, just put me out of my misery and—"I begin, frustrated with him, but my words trail off as he slides the lace to the side, ever so nonchalantly.

"And?" Harry questions, standing back to his feet, his hand pressed to the lace band of my underwear, tampering with my sanity.

"And do what you do best. Why do you make this so fucking frustrating you're—, oh," I trail off the moment he graces me with his presence and slides a finger inside me, shutting me up instantly. I tilt my head back and softly moan.

“Is that what you wanted?" He grins cockily, working his fingers in a circular motion, causing me to want more and more of his breathtaking movements.

“Don’t stop.”

Delighted with excited anticipation, he slides in another finger, my toes curling within my heeled stilettos, my hand clutching fistfuls of his shirt, my body focusing on the sensation he’s dominantly advancing, his fingers twisting in a circular motion. My eyes narrow to half-mast, my head is tilting back, my nails digging into his shirt as he continues to grin.

Harry chuckles quietly as I begin to dance my hands along with the band of his pants, hinting at what I want next.

“Gettin’ ahead of yourself already,” Harry grins, “I’m not done,” He continues, catching me off guard as he slows his circular motions and lowers himself back down to his knees. He rides my dress up and grasps the back of my thighs, kissing his way up my thighs. My fingers press his shoulders while my other hand holds my dress. He bites gently on my inner thigh, a small chuckle escaping his lips before I go weak at my knees, enthralled by the motions of his tongue.

His hands squeeze the back of my thigh harder, in turn, my fingers squeezing his shoulders as my legs begin to quiver. I feel the rushing, narcotic power building in my body, “Harry,” I moan his name, fighting the power and squirming as he gets closer and closer to finding the exact spot I have been demanding.

I feel the building pressure, the climax coming at me in digging waves, but Harry stops. He stands to his feet, and I go to protest, but I’m stopped the moment he unbuttons his pants, thrilling me further and entering slowly. His hand presses against the wall, and we work together, at first going slow before he gradually inclines his thrusts, my hips moving to work with his.

My eyes roll to half-mast as my residence is broken and my body weakens, entirely falling into him with pleasure.

I catch my breath as he holds me up, my nails removing from their emended position on his shoulders.

I give him a smile as my dress falls back to its original length and my leg unwraps from around him. He holds me tighter, my legs shaking even further.

"You okay?" He breathes, pressing me back against the wall while holding me securely.

I nod, “Just for future reference; I’ll be getting you back for demanding praise before pleasure.”

Harry shrugs as he drops his arm from me and begins to adjust himself and his pants. “You dragged me in here.”

“If I had to wait for you to drag me in here, we’d never get anywhere.”

“I’m sorry I prefer to pleasure you in complete privacy.”

“Up your game, Styles,” I smile, adjusting my dress.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I look forward to your revenge, darling.” Harry winks as he cocks his head and looks me up and down, “Your quivering legs say you’re satisfied.”

“Very,” I nod, “Next time, it’s my turn to pleasure you.”

Harry grins and agrees, “Revenge and all.” ... "You have an event, Queen," Harry winks, gesturing to the door, reminding me of my other duties.

Harry's POV

When I woke up this morning, I had not intended for the events of the morning to go as they have. I didn't anticipate Anastasia to drag me to the royal office right before the garden party to take care of business. Then again, I didn't expect her to lure me into a passageway and demand I please her, not that I'm complaining by any means. Intercourse is infrequent these days. Finding alone time is like attempting to find a pot of fucking gold.

I stand in front of her, waiting for answers, just as Pippa and her mother do as well. My mother in law steps closer to me, "What is going on?" she questions, and I shrug my shoulders.

"No clue," I whisper.

"It is rude to whisper," Pippa remarks, causing me to cock my head to the side and glared at her.

Before I can speak, my mother-in-law speaks for me, "Nobody asked your opinion," she mutters.

"The only way to become KingKing is to inherit the title; I hereby change the ruling. If any Queen wishes to title her husband as KingKing, she can do so on the conditions she rules the majority of the monarch, and they can co-monarch successfully. I am still higher ranked than him." Anastasia states, signing her name effortlessly across a piece of paper, taking all of us by surprise.

I watch as Anastasia signs a warrant authorising the preparation of the letters patent and approving the draft text of the letters patent. "What? Anna… What?" I utter, confused as to what is happening as Anna hands me the letter that will be written in ceremonial calligraphy on vellum in the next few hours.

"You cannot be serious, Her Majesty," Pippa laboriously huffs.

I am not sure how any of this affects Pippa. It isn't like I do anything to bother her.

"I am changing your title," Anna responds, glancing towards her mother and Pippa, who have witnessed the moment, "Any objections?" Anastasia raises a brow, narrowing her eyes towards Pippa.

Pippa shifts her weight from foot to foot, evidently troubled with Anastasia's smartass remarks and comments. Pippa shakes her head, and I take a moment to glance down and read what Anastasia is ordering.

In the name and on the behalf of Her Majesty.

Anastasia Annette Leanor, Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Queen Defender of the Faith etc. To all to whom these Presents shall come greeting: Our Will and Pleasure is, and we do hereby declare and ordain, that from and after the date of this warrant, Harry Styles, shall be styled, entitled and called "His Royal Highness, King of the United Kingdom," before his name and such Titles and appellations, which to Him now do, or at any time hereafter may belong or appertain, in all Deeds, Records, Instruments or Documents whatsoever, wherein He may at any time hereafter be named or described. And We do hereby authorise and empower the said Harry Styles henceforth and at all times to assume and use and be called and named by the style title and appellation of "His Royal Highness" accordingly.

Given at Our Court at Buckingham Palace the Fifteenth Day of April 2022.

I place the paper down on the desk, "Anna, Are you sure about this? I don't know about all this," I gesture, unsure of what to do or how to act.

I don't want this at the expense of pissing Pippa off.

"Yeah, I am unsure too," Pippa steps closer to the desk.

"Nobody asked your opinion, and this has nothing to do with the Priminsiter. Why is she here?" I cross my arms over my chest.

This woman is a pain in my ass.

"I think I liked you better as a security detail."

"Yeah, well, I liked you better when you weren't up my ass and pissing me off all the time."

"That is no way to speak to a parliament member," Pippa responds.

"Parliament can kiss my royal ass," I respond, "I believe this is a conversation between my wife and me, so please, respectfully, shut up," I smile through my teeth, trying my hardest not to be an outright asshole to her, but my patience is thin right now.

I look back towards Anastasia and Anna stands from her position at her desk, "I am sure, we have a garden party to attend," Anastasia smiles before she steps towards me and kisses my cheek, "Are you escorting me or are you going to argue Pippa?"

"Do I get a say in this?" I softly challenge.

Anna shakes her head, "No, take it," Anastasia responds, her eyes narrowing down on me, indicating that I need to shut my mouth and let her do what she is doing. Perhaps there is a method to her madness, or maybe she wants to give me the damn title, either way, I will stand by her, even if it means I become a fucking King, formally,

♛ ♛ ♛

For the first time, I trail Anastasia's lead, doing my amplest to empower myself to be in the moment and not destroy things by being her security detail. I try my best not to keep track of the number of people in the gardens or that with every second that passes, there's an extra set of eyes on Anastasia.

Matthew is in charge of keeping Anastasia safe in the event of some catastrophe, and Oliver is in charge of keeping me safe. Quite frankly, as her husband or not, I do not care about myself in situations; my main focus is her not just because it is my profession but because she is the woman I love. Therefore, I will put my life on the line for her no matter the circumstances.

"Eaglette, any threats?" I softly question Oliver as Anastasia is occupied with one of the other Princess' that have appeared.

Oliver clears his throat and steps closer to me from behind, "Will she fire me if I tell you?" Oliver whispers, and I can't help but laugh. Anastasia and Princess Charlotte view me with raised brows, and I begin to softly cough into my hand, proposing to divert the attention.

"No, Oliver, she will not fire you. Give me the rundown," I instruct, moving to the left so he can stand beside me.

I begin to glance around, exercising close surveillance of the physiques around us. "One woman was denied entry, and that is all. Nothing dangerous or threatening."

"Who has their eyes on her mother?" I question, unable to locate Anastasia's mother where I am.

"She is sitting under the tent with her lady-in-waiting. She will not be moving. Everything is running smoothly."

I nod my head and march towards Anastasia, joining her conversation.

I feel out of place. I feel as though I should be standing with Matthew or Oliver. I shouldn't be participating in the events as more than security detail. My marriage to Anna doesn't modify my stance on things. I don't want to be known as the man who abruptly gains a title and completely changes; I am no better than anyone else and don't like the idea of being more than just security. Most people would love to have some sort of title. I don't.

I excuse myself from Anna and walk away, leaving the crowd of minglers for Oliver to handle. These events have always bothered me, not just from a relationship stance but from a security detail stance. It is rattling my nerves not being in the loop and knowing where everyone is or who is here. Matthew didn't want me a part of today's service, as requested by my mother-in-law but not knowing makes me want to panic. I weave in and out of the gardens, well aware of Matthew's sneaky path, and I eventually locate him.

I offer him a grin, and he shakes his head, "What do you want? You're off duty."

"Can I please just have my in-ear? It would give me peace of mind," I ask politely.

Matthew rolls his eyes and shoves his hand into his pocket, "I figured you'd ask," Matthew chuckles, "Can't help yourself, can you?"

I lift my shoulders into a shrug and take my in-ear from him, "Makes me nervous not knowing."

"I understand, but if Anastasia sees you being her detail, she is going to get upset with you. She wants her husband."

"Yeah, well, her husband is struggling with this… What the fuck am I meant to do? I don't know these people." I question, needing some sort of advice. "Do I curtsey?"

I am the kind of person who likes to be prepared, and I haven't been prepared for anything. I don't know how to start conversations with royals, I don't know how to act as anything other than a security personal, and most of all, I don't know who I am meant to curtsey to and who I am not. Things are more manageable when I am security. As Anna's security, I knew every single person who was meant to curtsey to Anna and every single person who did not have to. Everyone who does not hold an HRH title has been required to bow to Anastasia even when she was young, and anyone without an HRH title will have to curtsey to our children. Now that Anna is Queen, everyone is to curtsey to her no matter the title, and now that I have a title, I have no clue who the fuck I am meant to bow to or who is meant to bow to me, not that I want anyone to bow to me.

Matthew chuckles to himself before placing his hand on my shoulder, "Harry, relax. It is okay."… "Anna had to only bow to her parents; now her mother has to bow to her… As reigning Queen, everyone curtseys to her, and when you two are together, they curtsey to you. You are titled His Majesty, and as King, everyone curtseys to you as well when you are both together."

"So I do not bow?"

"No, Harry, and there is no way I am bowing to you either."

I laugh at Matthew's comment, "Royal protocol says otherwise."

"You can shove it up your ass; I am not bowing," Matthew continues, causing me to laugh a little harder. "Now that you are relaxed, just breathe. Don't worry about the royal rules. Anna doesn't want you to be moulded to those rules. She just wants her husband; she doesn't expect you to act like a King on your first day."

"Nobody even knows I am King, oh God, is the media going to find out? I don't think I am up for this. I don't want to be formally known as King."

"Would you prefer the title of an asshole? I think it is still available unless Pippa took it," Matthew continues to endeavour to lighten the mood and stop me from spiralling with my thoughts and feelings towards the situation. "Look, Anastasia knows what she is doing. It doesn't change anything major right now, Harry. It isn't like you have to make speeches and attend public events on your own. Just stand with her and smile."

"I prefer to be on security. Can I just do security?"

Matthew shakes his head, "You need to do this for your wife, so suck it up."

I nod my head, "Can I just get a few minutes to recoup?" I question, requiring a few extra minutes to amp myself back to go back to Anastasia and the swarming crowd of guests.

"I am going back to Oliver. If you're not back with your wife in ten minutes, I will make you regret it."

"How so?" I curiously ask, purposely being a shithead.

"I will stick you on watching the cameras between two and six in the morning, your favourite shifts," Matthew responds, causing me to groan. "Figured you would see it my way and get back to being King," Matthew smirks, shuffling away from me.

I stand in the extensive gardens, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to calm my racing thoughts.

What have I gotten myself into?

I struggle to wrap my head around this morning's events. I just gave up the crown and being in charge of the monarch, and somehow I gained the title of King- a title that has never been obtained by a man who hasn't been royal by blood. I am sure the parliament will dispute it the best they can, but ultimately, Anastasia has the last say.

I observe a man and take it upon myself to walk closer to him, "This area is off-limits," I immediately begin, startling the man as he turns to stare at me.

"You're in here."

"I am allowed to be here. I would suggest you go back to the public and leave the flowers alone," I command, pointing to the flowers he had been touching, "If I catch you here again, I will have you arrested." I threaten the man, not wanting to cause a scene. Anna would kill me.

"No need, Harry," the man shakes his head.

"How do you know my name?" I instantly challenge, narrowing my eyes on him and stepping closer to the man who appears familiar, but I know I have never met him before. He isn't in any of our files for looking out for and for someone who can't be trusted.

"I read social media. I am not from the seventeen hundreds, Mr Styles," the man chuckles.

I nod my head, "Careful what you touch, might be poisonous," I cross my arms over my chest, making it known that I know he is up to something, but I am not quite sure what it is. I don't know what he could want with a few flowers or what he was doing out here, but I do know that I do not like it.

"Likewise, wouldn't want any Aces in the hole," the man grins.

"You seem a bit lost in the shuffle there, mate," I respond, irritated by his use of idioms.

"Have a good day," The man proceeds to walk away, leaving me intrigued. Part of me wants to grab him and force out of him what he means by an Ace in a hole. The saying represents a hidden or secret strength or unrevealed advantage, but what could this man mean?

What Ace is hidden in the gardens?

What Ace is hidden in the flowers?

What Ace is hidden?

I shake my thoughts and force myself to forget about the man, a man who is just someone attempting to get some sort of attention at the Palace. I walk the pathway and head back towards the area where the guests are gathered. I weave in and out of the bodies, trying to locate Anna or her mother, whichever one I can manage to find first.

I find Anastasia standing under one of the tents on her own, standing beside an ice sculpture that is just for looks. "I was looking for you," Anastasia begins, "You okay?"

"I am fine," I kiss her cheek.

"I know that is a lie," Anastasia sighs, and she takes my hand, lacing her fingers with my own.

I heavily sigh before speaking, "I don't like not doing my job, it is… weird," I trail off into a whisper as we are interrupted by Princess Madeleine. "Princess," I nod, acknowledging her as she smiles towards Anastasia and glares as her eyes meet mine.

"I believe you have the title wrong," Madeleine informs me, purposely irking my nerves as she did the first day I met her.

She has lived with us for a little while, and I do everything in my power to avoid her at all costs; she and I don't see eye to eye, and her sarcasm pisses me off nine times out of ten. The only time she has come in handy was when she scared some of the new guys I am trying to train.

I clear my throat and look at her, "Madeleine Noelle Veil of Denmark," I correct myself, "As I call you by your official title, I believe you must curtsey," I gesture with a grin, "Go ahead, don't be shy."

"Harry," Anna nudges me, signalling for me to stop playing the same petty game as Madeleine.

"I Madeleine Noelle Veil of Denmark do not bow to you, but as for your royal title, I shall curtsey," Madeleine mutters unhappily, bending her knees and curtseying.

I chuckle and nod my head, "Thank you, Princess Madeleine Noelle Veil of Denmark. Your presence is always a joy."

"Do you two do anything but bicker?" Anastasia interrupts before Madeleine can comment.

Madeleine and I both lift our shoulders into a shrug, "No," I shake my head, "I am going to find Prince Louis," I inform the two of them as they grab more drinks, "Madeleine, who is watching you?" I ask.

Madeleine raises a brow before looking around, "Are you not on my service?"

"I am serious, Madeleine."

"Nobody was assigned to me. My guard never showed."

I run my fingers through my hair and shake my head disapprovingly, "Stay with Anna. I will have someone put on your service." I inform the two of them before walking off, on a mission not only to find someone for Madeleine's service but also to figure out who the man in the gardens was. He has left a bitter taste in my mouth, and something about him doesn't settle with me.

♛ ♛ ♛

The garden party ended an hour ago, and as the evening concluded, I couldn't help but have this begging need to go to the security office and grab some paperwork. My thoughts have been racing since the man in the gardens. I haven't been able to shake his comments off.

I rummage through a few files, doing my best to locate what I am looking for.

I turn to observe Anastasia sitting down; her head bowed as she stares at her lap. I watch her for a minute and cock my head to the side. At first glance, I assume she is tired from a long day; hell, I am exhausted from today, and all I had to do was stand there and look pretty. But, instead, I was merely just the man who stood beside her all day. "Baby, are you okay?" I challenge, walking closer, realising that something about her doesn't appear the same. Minutes ago, she was smiling, had energy to her, and now she seems as though her light has dimmed.

I step closer and notice what Anna has in her lap that has caused her to gaze down thoroughly. "Anna, you can't just go through things," I raise my voice insignificantly, panic mode setting in.

Anastasia was not intended to perceive anything in that folder. I lean down and snatch the file from her hands and arrange it back on my desk. She gazes up at me, all the colour drained from her face, her eyes sullen, and her hands shaking as she attempts to disguise them by adjusting the length of her dress. "I'm sorry for raising my voice," I apologise, not knowing where to begin with what I have to handle. I thread a hand through my hair while she twists the wedding ring on her finger anxiously.

Anastasia stands to her feet and wraps her arms around her. I can't tell if it is out of comfort or for the fact it is chilly down here. I know she viewed information in the file she was never meant to perceive, there is a reason she isn't meant to be down here, but I didn't expect this file to be left in plain sight for her to recognise. "Anna?"

She doesn't want to speak, I don't blame her, but she can't keep shutting down on me any time an inconvenience occurs or she finds things out she doesn't want to acknowledge. At this rate, her life is a series of unfortunate events, and I am doing everything I can to shield her from it. But it isn't my fault she is in the mess she is in. It all originates from her family line. Finally, Anastasia steps to the door and waits, not bothering to turn back to glance at me as I stand in the middle of the surveillance room at a loss for words. I don't know how to comfort her.

I take my jacket off and step closer to Anastasia. I drape my coat over her shoulders from behind before I grab my keys from my pocket, "How mad are you at me?" I question, flipping through my keys to locate the one I am looking for.

"Harry, I don't want to talk." Anastasia's lips set in a grim line.

"I don't want a lot of things, but I have to deal with them, Anna."

Anastasia glances at me and takes my jacket off, handing it to me out of spite. Her usually effervescent eyes now burn with contempt. "Leave me alone," Anastaisa mutters.

My body stiffens at the remark; it breaks my heart, but I know deep down this has nothing to do with me. I am just the middle man attempting to figure out who the fuck killed her father and who I need to deal with so they don't take Anastasia.

I unlock the door and permit Anastasia out, "As you wish," I gesture for her to step out, allowing her to march out of the security room and into the tunnels. I close the door behind me and place the keys in my pocket. I heavily sigh, and I lean on the door as I watch Anastasia walk off without me. I should follow her, but I know the tunnels are relatively safe, at least the ones on this end— I know that sometimes she needs space. I can't smother her, and I can't shield her from everything as I try.

After a few minutes, I begin to walk.

I recognise Anastasia on the cold ground, and I wander closer to her before I kneel in front of her, her cheeks tear-stained with mascara, her arms wrapped around her stomach, and her legs tucked under her dress. Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. "Don't ask if I am okay," Anastasia snaps before I can bother to open my mouth.

"Didn't plan on it," I respond before I stand up, leaving her to her own defences and beginning to step away. I may walk away from her, but I can watch guard without her knowing. I don't want to push her over the edge or start an argument with her.

Sometimes you have to pick and choose your battles, especially in relationships; this is a battle I do not want to fight. I don't want to argue herewith in the tunnels because of her emotions.

I catch her weeping, and it breaks my heart, but I can't always be the one to pick up her pieces if she doesn't want me to. I cannot fight her and urge her to understand things. "Harry, wait," the painful vibration of her voice causes me to stop in my tracks. I stand with my back to her, unsure of whether to turn around and go back to her or to leave her where she is. "I'm sorry," her apology causes me to think for a moment. She is furious and sad at the same time, and I am frustrated— neither of us is better than each other— we both have emotions that we can't always control. Finally, I turn around and begin to walk back towards her.

Anastasia gazes up at me, her usually alluring eyes harbouring nothing but grief and sorrow. I kneel again, this time noticing the blood spots on her dress. "What happened?" I request, lifting her arms to take a glimpse at her dress.

"I was coming back to apologise," Anastasia breathes, bowing her head in defeat, "I tripped over the uneven stones."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" I ask, gingerly shifting her arms from their position from around her stomach, scanning every inch of her.

"It's no big deal," Anastasia responds, "Life likes to knock me down."

"Happens to the best of us," I respond, "Can you get up?" I request, unsure of how she fell or if she had hurt herself aside from a few scrapes.

I place my hands at her waist and mindfully assist her where I see her dress is torn, and she scraped her legs on her fall. "If you hadn't walked off, this may not have happened."

Anastasia's eyes roll skyward, and frustration crinkles her eyes. "Sure, because prince charming would have saved me as always."

"I am not sure why you're angry at me," I shake my head, kindly placing my jacket to slide up her arms before I bring it to her front. I button my coat up so the tear in her dress isn't exposed.

Anastasia gazes at me and looks down before peering back up at me, "I don't know who else to be angry at…."

I don't respond, mainly because I do not know how to. So instead, I swallow any sly remarks I have and place my arm around her before we quietly walk the rest of the tunnels.

The walk was silent; the only thing that we could hear was the echo of her heels tapping the stones with every step she took. I know the fall to the stones hurt, and I know she was doing her best not to lean on me, but even when she is pissed at me and I am frustrated, I don't want her ever to think I won't be there for her to lean on, whether that be literally or metaphorically.

Life is troublesome, and it is even harder when you're attempting to avenge your wife's father's murder. I promised her I would get to the bottom of things, I promised her father I would keep her safe, and these go hand-in-hand. I will stop at nothing to make sure Anastasia is not next. It scares me every day to wake up knowing that there are people out there who don't want her in the monarch. It terrifies me that she took control of something much more significant than her. It scares me that there are members of parliament who are evil and corrupt— I plan to deal with them the second that I can, but for now, Matthew and I are taking things one step at a time. Anastasia can't stay enraged at me forever. I didn't tell her to scan through files; she took a seat to get off her feet, resulting in disaster. I didn't expect her to open the one fucking file with pictures of her father the night the unknown killed him. I didn't expect her to somehow turn things around on me. I didn't anticipate becoming the inferior guy in the situation because her emotions are ramped.

♛ ♛ ♛

Anastasia rummages around the bathroom, and I observe her silhouette with every move while I undo the tie around my neck. Every so often, I notice her wipe her reddened cheeks and shift her hair away from her face. I want to comfort her and stop her from crying, but nothing I do will help. Finally, she bends down to take out bandages from the drawer, and a groan escapes her lips, her hand grabbing the edge of the marble counter for balance. I stand to my feet instantly, discovering myself in the bathroom before I can think twice.

"Here," I sigh, placing my hands on Anastasia and sitting her on the bathroom sink. I've watched her struggle enough with trying to clean herself up.

I take the cotton from her hands, the smell of rubbing alcohol causing both of us to screw our noses up. I am not sure what it is, but the sterile smell of rubbing alcohol bothers me. I take her arms and begin to clean her forearms off; I dab delicately. "I know it burns," I soften my gaze on her as she jerks away from my touch, pulling her arms back with a hiss. "Rubbing alcohol burns, but it's all we have unless you want to go-"

"No," Anna cuts me off before I can finish speaking, her voice rough with pain. I know she doesn't want to go to the doctor at the Palace. I know all she wants is to get in bed and forget this evening ever occurred. Anna gives me back her arms and glances away, focusing her attention on something other than the burning pain.

"Can I take your pantihose off? They're all ripped, sweetheart," I softly request, not wanting to take them off without her permission. Anna nods and lifts her dress just enough to take the thin layer of material between my fingers and slide them down her legs, doing my best not to touch the tender skin at her knees where she befell.

Her knees remind me of a time when I was a little kid.

I was running with my sister, we had both been told to stop, but neither of us listened. Instead, we competed with who could reach the neighbours first. The giggling between my sister and I grew louder and louder, and my mother's pleas fell silent the further we got. Finally, I tripped over my own feet, and I went straight into the concrete. I skimmed both my knees that day, I still have the scars, but I remember trying so hard not to cry because I knew my mother was precise. I should have listened to her. The moment my mother got to me, I cried, and I cried. The fall destroyed my pants, and my knees stung like thousands of needles pricking my skin. I attempted to focus on something other than the agony of the minor incident, but I couldn't concentrate on anything besides my skimmed knees.

I remember the fall and the discomfort, and I remember my mum taking me home and cleaning me up in the same way I am with Anastasia. The only difference is I was six, and Anastasia's cuts and scratches are a little more vicious than what six year old me managed to do.

Anastasia winces and hisses as I start to dab her knees. I look at her, and she's biting down on her lip while her hands curl and hold the edge of the countertop. "I'm sorry, baby," I again sigh, apologising for a pain I did not inflict. But, of course, this could have been averted if she wasn't stubborn and marching away from me. Perhaps then she wouldn't have been so emotional and stumbling over herself.

"It's fine; we've both been through worse."

I nod my head and agree, "Perhaps, but scrapes deserve credit. They're fucking painful."

"The tough security guard agrees scapes hurt?" Anastasia softly questions.

"Still recovering from mine when I was six," I wink, attempting to lighten the mood, but she goes withdrawn as I continue to tend to her scrapes.

I clean Anna's legs, bandaging them with bandaids before standing in front of her and benevolently placing my hands at her hips. "Look, you can be mad at me all you want, you can give me the silent treatment, you can yell, do what you need to do, but— hey, look at me," I softly trail off, touching my hand to lift her chin, "I'm not going anywhere. I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't tell you to look through the stuff. I never intended for you to see what you saw. This is why I don't let you down there." I begin to explain my train of thought. She can be bitter, but it doesn't change the outcome of anything at the end of the day.

"What if it's you?"

"Excuse me?" I am taken aback by her question.

Is she referring to me as the person who killed her father?

"What if it becomes you, like him?"

"I don't understand." I shake my head, still unsure of what she's alluding to.

Anastasia becomes reserved for a minute before she shakes her head and places her hands on my shoulders, propelling her body forward, signalling she wants to get down off the counter. I help her off, but I retain my hands on her, "Please explain." I caress my hands to hers that rest on my shoulders, and I hold them as she releases her grip on my shoulders.

"What if… What if they do to you what they did to him? Since you're on track to knowing what happened." Anna is fighting a rising panic, but I don't know where she is going with it or where it stems.

"Anna, you told me this is what you wanted, for me to find who did this."

"I don't want to see pictures of you like the way I had to see pictures of him."

"I know what I am doing."

"So did he," Anastasia whispers, "I am going to bed. I don't want to keep having this conversation."

"Hey, you can't just walk away every time you get uncomfortable with something," I inform her as she steps towards the bedroom.

Anastasia halts in her tracks and turns to glance at me, "I'm not coddling you. I am done coddling you so much with certain things." I stand my ground, not wanting to be an arse but not wanting her to keep shutting down conversations. It isn't healthy for her to do this.

"Okay, would it help you sleep better to know that one of the two of us is likely next? I won't sugar coat it; I know that no matter where I go or how good security is that I am a threat. So perhaps it would help you sleep to know Dad, Victoria, and Henry are all dead, and it all boils down to me."

"No, that doesn't help me sleep, but you know what does? Knowing that I do everything humanly possible to make sure you are not touched."

"You're missing the point," Anastasia exclaims, "What about you? Who is keeping you safe? Matthew and Oliver's main concern is me. So who the fuck is making sure that you aren't going to be joining Henry and my Dad?"

"Anna," I sigh, working my hands through my hair. "I signed up for this. I knew signing up for the job that my life would always be on the line to save yours."

"You signed up for your job; you didn't sign up to be in harm's way because you married me."

"Well, that's just one of the perks I have to deal with. I will be fine, damnit… This conversation is over."

"Look at the pot calling the kettle black, uncomfortable?"

"I love you."

Anna shakes her head, "You don't get to end things with an I love you. No."

"You end it as you wish," I respond, stepping around her and beginning to unbutton my shirt.

Even on my worst days, I love her. My love for her is immeasurable. I don't care if we are bickering like cats and dogs. I still love her. Neither of us is perfect, and we are going to fight; it's inevitable. We don't see eye to eye on everything; right now, I have no fucking clue what eye she is even using, but I will figure it out. I vowed to love her through everything, even the moments she is spiralling with emotions.

"You don't understand, do you?"

"I understand that you are hurting, I understand that you're scared, but arguing with me isn't going to help… I don't even know why you're mad. It isn't my fault. This is how things panned out."

"It isn't my fault either."

"I never said it was, Anna," I respond, letting out a grunt, pain branching across my shoulder like lightning as I move my shoulders back and take the damn shirt off. A sharp breath escapes my lips while I lean forward and massage my shoulder. "Don't worry. I promise I am not dying," I mutter, glancing up to notice her staring at me. Damnit.

"Insensitive," Anastasia rolls her eyes.

"Fuck me," I sigh, leaning down to lay on the bed.

I peer up at the ceiling and begin to wonder where I went wrong with this evening. Today went well. There were no significant issues that arose, no protocol I had to call, and everyone complied with the garden rules. I didn't have to throw anyone out, nor did I have to lock down any parts of the Palace. Today is a day that rarely happens when events happen, today was successful without any errors. Rare.

Anna and I had a decent time; I did my best to escort her around and speak with people who I wouldn't usually be entitled to talk to if I was only her guard. So, for once, I somewhat appreciated a royal event... up until now.

"Are you alright?"

"No, Anna, I am not," I respond, "I have a wife who I have no clue how to make feel better and who thinks I am going to be assassinated in my sleep. I also apparently have a monarch and parliament after me, not to mention a job you make a bit difficult."

Anastasia grows silent, and I realise I am only digging my grave deeper with her. If I don't watch it, she's likely to smother me with a pillow in my sleep. But, of course, I wouldn't blame her either. "Just turn the light off when you're ready," I mutter, not wanting to get up to turn it off or to get up to do anything. I am pretty comfortable with my legs dangling over the edge and my back against the bed.

The lights turn off, and I continue to stare up at the ceiling, thinking of how to defuse the situation when we wake up in the morning.

It is my honour to keep Anastasia safe. I started this job due to needing money and a job; I never expected to fall in love with the Princess and get married, but I did. I wouldn't change my job or my decisions to marry her for the world. I'll put my life on the line for her whether it means I get paid or not. At this point, I do my job because I have grown to enjoy the career path I chose. I do it to keep me occupied; keeping her safe is a bonus now. Whether I am on her service or not, I will do everything to make sure she is safe. I don't need to be in a suit and tie with an earpiece to look out for her. I am trained for all conditions and emergencies, whether I'm on the service or not.

I have never thought twice about my life or hers.

It's always going to be hers over mine, not just because she's Royal but because that's how I am as a man. I won't hesitate to take all pain from her. Love isn't just about the sweet kisses, the dates and the honeymoon phase. It's about knowing how to take care of the other person in all aspects; it's about putting them above yourself when it's appropriate and being selfless. Don't get me wrong, I'll put my life on the line for her and take a bullet for her, but dammit, it irks my nerves when she says she doesn't want anything and then drinks my coffee. Being selfless doesn't have to happen constantly; just because I'll take a bullet for her doesn't mean we are perfect or that I devote everything and give her everything. There's an appropriate time and place for each selfless act. Right now, I'm selfish by letting my emotions and feelings rise to the occasions— and that's okay.

I observe the bed dip, and surprisingly, Anastasia lays beside me, closer than I ever anticipated. She thoughtfully wiggles close to my body before she rests her head on my good shoulder, her arm carefully draping over my stomach.

I thought she would prefer to sleep as far from me as possible. I don't move. I lay on my back, still staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck to do. I don't want to give up my job to give her peace of mind, I want to stay in security, but I don't think I'll be able to. If I were to give it up for her, what would I do? Sit around in a robe and drink coffee while dubbing people knights?

After a few moments of silence, Anastasia pushes away from me. I realise she's moving away because of my lack of words and emotions. It wasn't intentional; I didn't aspire to push her away or make her believe like I didn't want her around. I'm merely attempting to figure out my circling thoughts, "Anna," I breathe out, "Come here," I whisper, opening my arm and enabling her to nestle back into me. I wrap my arm around her and caress a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too," I respond.

Me too, baby, me too.

[sourcherrybomb]

SoKai Week 2020 - Day 2 - For ____ Eyes Only

Synopsis: During the time period Kairi was within Sora’s heart, she kept a handy mental diary of all the places and people she encountered. Let’s take a peek at it, shall we?

Sneak Peek: I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it’s unsurprising.

Tags: Light Romance, Adventure, Comedy, All Ages, F/M

Prompt for the Day: First Meeting / Unseen Adventures

Words: 3.5k

Fanart By: @softpinkbee​

Entry 1: Welcome to Sora’s Heart. Population: 1 (I think)

Sooo… This is a thing that’s happening. All because of a stupid, literal world ending storm.

Oh wait, aren’t I supposed to start with “Dear Diary”? Not like I’m physically writing in a journal since I don’t have a body anymore… Ugh, Sora and Riku would probably poke fun at me if they found out that I kept one. Well sorry that I like to be sentimental and have a way of remembering and planning our future adventures, lazy bums.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I’ll do this once to get it over with.

Hello there (mental) diary, my name is Kairi! I’m 14 years old and I lived on the Destiny Islands before I somehow ended up in Sora’s (my BFF and lazy bum #1) heart. That little mishap took place right after I met this weird old guy in brown robes in our Secret Place. I don’t know where Riku (my other BFF and lazy bum #2) ended up, but somehow Sora got sucked into a black hole that sent him… Or is it us? To another world called Traverse Town.

I mean the boys and I always planned to travel to other worlds, just not like this. We were supposed to travel by raft, I was supposed to have a body, and it was going to be all three of us… Okay maybe I asked Sora if he wanted to go alone with me, only to end up chickening out at the last moment, but this current situation is not what I had in mind!

Apparently these monsters called the Heartless destroyed our world, sending us to Traverse Town. I feel bad. 

Sora was lost and alone. I knew because I felt it in his heart.

Luckily, Sora has met a lot of new people since arriving. There were these two girls, Aerith and Yuffie, that I would have loved to talk and meet with. Selphie definitely would have loved to meet Aerith, she was so pretty! Besides them, Sora also met this edgy guy named Leon (who kicked his butt) and a cranky old mechanic named Cid. More importantly, Sora met this talking duck and dog named Donald and Goofy. They’re pretty entertaining, so I hope they can keep Sora company since I can’t speak to him and we lost Riku.

I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it's unsurprising.

I just can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something… no, someone else in here.

Entry 2: Topsy? Turvy? Definitely Crazy.

Is it possible to have an out-of-body experience and a fever dream at the same time? Because that’s what Wonderland feels like.

Geez, where do I even start with this one? I guess with the talking rabbit entering the talking doorknob? Granted that rabbit was kind of cute, if not panicky. I could get used to that. Sora shrinking and entering a place full of playing card soldiers and a cat with a decapitated head (I think? He reattached it) are things that are going to take a bit to get used to.

Gosh, that feels like the understatement of the century.

I knew other worlds would be different than the islands. It’s just that going from a quiet city to a place where gravity is bonkers and playing cards can kill a person makes a girl really question what’s out there.

I wish I could take pictures so people would believe my words. Luckily this cricket named Jiminy has a journal where he keeps track of Sora’s journey. He stays safe inside Sora’s hood, so it’s sort of like we’re neighbors and journal buddies! I’d love to give him my point of view on things once I get my body back.

Oh one other thing before I forget, there was this one girl named Alice. I don’t know why, but she was giving off this really familiar aura. I couldn’t help but feel oddly drawn to her.

I feel like this won’t be the first time we come into contact with her.

Entry 3: Anyone else hear horns?

Like seriously, Sora and I both hear horns coming from this world, but neither of us have any idea as to where they’re coming from. This (extremely small) world is the Olympus Coliseum.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy got thrown into some challenges and ended up fighting waves of Heartless. Really makes me think about how I should have tried sword fighting with Sora and Riku. Sure, I’ve picked up some things by just watching them, but I think actually practicing with them would have helped me in the long run. I mean, I totally could have fought off that weird guy in the brown robes.

Ugh, just thinking about him gives me bad vibes. 

Going back to the challenges, Sora totally got his butt handed to him by this guy, Cloud. It was way worse than the loss Sora took against Leon, I don’t think Cloud was holding back. 

I’m thankful he didn’t finish Sora off. Partly because he’s my best friend, but also because if Sora bites the dust, then I’m also gone. It was rough seeing Sora lose again, but watching him take out a giant three-headed dog right after certainly was a sight. Although I swear I heard Hercules whisper to his little red friend, Phil, next to him that he weakened the monster. 

Maybe. But since it felt like I was fighting alongside him, I’m not ready to count Sora out just yet. He’s grown so much stronger day after day.

Entry 4: Note to Self, Never Let Sora Drive

You know, if the three of us did leave on that raft as planned, I always had a feeling that Sora might fight with Riku over where to take us. Sora’s never been one for his directional skills, that was always more Riku’s forte. Because of this, I always mentally prepared myself for the event where Sora would get us super lost.

WHAT I DIDN’T MENTALLY PREPARE MYSELF WAS FOR SORA TO CAUSE A GIANT SPACESHIP TO CRASH BECAUSE HE ARGUED WITH A TALKING DUCK!!!

That’s not even where it ends! This Deep Jungle is nuts! There’s a leopard that’ll attack you like every five steps, there was a giant Heartless that turned invisible, and Sora even got a gun fired at it! Granted that last one was because of some hunter jerk with a stupid mustache, but if he’s from this world, he’s part of the problem.

The only saving grace was the fact that there are giant tree trunks that act like slides and as many vines to swing on as I wanted to. Tarzan has got to give me some tips when I have the chance to meet him, it was like he was flying through the trees! I’d honestly enjoy the chance to talk to Jane myself as well. She seems so smart and would have so much to talk about. I think she’d make pleasant conversation. That being said, when she showed Sora a picture of a castle in the slideshow, I couldn’t shake this sense of… familiarity. Like I had seen it or something like it before. But where…?

Even though this world and I got off on the wrong foot, once I get my body back, I’m definitely making Sora bring me here so I can do all that!

Although I still have no idea how that’s gonna happen.

Entry 5: I don’t know why, but this place feels oddly familiar

Today may have just been one of the best days I’ve had since I’ve been living in Hotel Sora’s Heart, over here!

For starters, dogs. Sooooo many dogs! Leon told Sora about all of these Dalmatian puppies that got scattered across the various worlds. They’ve been taking the time to rescue all 101 of them, and they’re absolutely adorable! Ahhhhhh, I can only imagine playing with everyone one of them.

Secondly, I’m finding Traverse Town a lot more comforting than I originally did. Something about the tall building walls makes me feel nostalgic. I never was from the Islands to begin with, but where I originally came from is a mystery to me. I don’t think it was Traverse Town, but maybe it was another city. I’m sure that in travelling to other worlds, I might be able to remember more!

Today I even got to talk to Sora a little bit, albeit by accident, when he and his friends wandered into this old tower. I looked around and said to myself that it reminds me of the Secret Place, all dark and surrounded by stone. I never expected Sora to hear or see me! I had so much more to say, but when this wizard guy showed up, Sora couldn’t hear me anymore.

But that’s not even the best news: Right after, Sora ended up running into Riku! He’s safe! It was brief, Riku ended up disappearing moments after, but now we know he’s out there and can protect himself. Sora was even able to protect Riku from one of the Heartless!

Never thought I’d see that day where the roles were switched. It suits Sora.

Entry 6: I hate sand.

I may find not having a body to be a major inconvenience, but for once I’m quite pleased at the fact considering Agrabah, the world Sora and his friends just left, was full of sand.

At its worst, sand was rough, coarse, and irritating. It already got into my clothes back on the Islands, but around here I’d imagine it gets everywhere.

That being said, this world has got to be one of the most adventurous we’ve been to so far! Desert temples filled with treasure, magical genies, all in a faraway kingdom? It’s like all the games Sora, Riku, and I used to play when we were younger. If only Riku joined with Sora back in Traverse Town, he would have loved this!

One odd thing though, we ran into another woman, Princess Jasmine, who gave me the same vibes as Alice! Turns out she’s more than just a regular old princess, but one with special powers. I wonder what it could all mean...

Entry 7: Did you know that the stomach would eat itself without the mucus lining its walls? 

Back on the Islands when Sora, Riku, and I made plans to leave on the raft, we always wondered what kind of animals we’d see. The one that would always pop into our minds was a whale since they might be big enough to swallow us whole.

We always laughed it off and went back to working or playing, so actually getting swallowed whole by one feels very ironic. It’s a lot grosser than I thought it would be. Smells like fish everywhere you go, so I really hope Sora, Donald, and Goofy take some showers once they leave.

This whale named Monstro even swallowed this old man and his son, Gepetto and Pinnochio. The latter is somehow a walking, talking puppet!

But what’s even crazier is that out of all the worlds, Riku shows up here, only to kidnap Pinnochio! And not just that, I think he knows where my body is. Geez, Riku was being a real jerk about it, though. Said that Sora was fooling around and not helping, when I know for a fact that he’s doing more that Riku has! I mean, I’m in the guy’s heart, that’s gotta count for something!

I wish I could tell Riku that all this time, Sora has been protecting me. I know I give him a hard time every now and then, but out of all the people in the world, I’m really glad I ended up in his heart.

Entry 8: Rival Redhead Acquired

I know that my last entries make me seem like a jealous person, but mental diary, trust me when I say that I’m not usually one to be envious of others.

Until now.

Being in Sora’s heart, I sort of get a feel for his emotions. By all means, even without being inside him, Sora is pretty much an open book to begin with. It’s just that in being directly connected to his heart, I can feel almost every emotion he has. That includes the mess of emotions he felt when he came into contact with this mermaid named Ariel.

Yup, a mermaid. Atlantica is full of them.

It’s a pretty cool world! There are sunken pirate ships, an underwater kingdom, even a giant sea witch that Sora defeated! But nope, the thing that makes Sora’s heart flutter is another red head when he already has one right here! Ughhh, I’m really glad this diary isn’t physical, I might die if Sora or Riku ever found out I think stuff like this.

Still, Ariel isn’t a bad person so it’s not that I dislike her. She also loves adventure and wants to see other worlds. Moving past my jealousy, I think I’d love to be friends with her some day. Ariel and I are similar, but I think I at least have something over her.

Sometimes when Sora talks about me, he gets this squeezing feeling in his heart. Now I’m not gonna let Sora or Riku tease me over my feelings, I’m sure gonna tease Sora about his once I get my body back.

Entry 9: A lot more tricks than treats!

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I enjoy going around to houses and getting candy, but I enjoy scaring Sora even more so. I mean, I definitely did that outside of Halloween, it’s just that the holiday made it feel special.

Needless to say, Sora finding a world exclusively dedicated to it is probably one of the best things I’ve ever found out! When Sora, Donald, and Goofy arrived, they even got special outfits to blend in! With Sora being a vampire, I could see Riku being a werewolf, but when it comes to me, I can’t choose between being a witch or a scarecrow.

There are even monsters! There was a talking skeleton who was surprisingly nice, a mad doctor, and a giant living sack of bugs! (It was super gross when he was defeated.) Sora got a bit squirmy when he died, so I really wish I was there to double down and make Sora sora yell out loud!

I definitely want to go to Halloween Town when all of this is said and done.

Entry 10: I miss candy…

So Halloween Town was fun for the thrills and chills, but felt severely lacking in candy. I may be a disembodied heart without a body, but my heart aches for something sweet! Which is why the 100 Acre Wood was torture for me.

Pooh Bear and I would get along. He loves honey, I love candy, it’s like we’re two peas in a pod. I too would probably get myself stuck inside a tree if I was desperate enough for a sweet snack. 

Pooh’s other animal friends are all so cuddly and adorable! Out of the cutest, I’d have trouble choosing between Piglet or Roo. Tigger reminds me of the stuffed animals I keep in my room. Part of me really wants to hold onto him and see if he can bounce around with me on it, like a pogo stick! When it comes to Eeyore, in all honesty I kind of just want to give him a hug...

Honestly this place is a nice change of pace. No Heartless to be found, it’s always a clear and sunny day out. When it’s night time there aren’t any clouds so you can see all the stars in the sky. I remember all the stories that Sora used to tell me about the constellations instead of learning how to find his way with them. That was more Riku’s job.

I’m glad to know that what I’m feeling when I look up at the sky, Sora is feeling the same. Take your time and relax, you’ve earned it.

Entry 11: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s Sora, Donald, and Goofy!

Forget swinging through trees, forget playing with countless puppies, and forget scaring Sora, when I get my body back, I’m making Sora take me to Neverland so I can fly up high in the skies!

Wait no Kairi, focus, there are more pressing things at matter. Mainly, Riku has become a full on jerk, has sided with the Heartless, and is dragging my lifeless body around with him! I mean, my eyes were open, but my body was basically a ragdoll without me in it. I mean on the brightside, Sora was absolutely brimming with joy when he realized my body was safe.

That may or may not have made me feel an indescribable amount of joy and embarrassment, mind you.

I mentioned having an out of body experience in Wonderland, but having a literal one felt even weirder. When Sora got close enough it was possible for me to twitch my hand a little, sort of like I was reconnecting with my body. Sucks that it ended up being dragged away, I was this close to getting it back. What sucks even more is that Riku ended up fleeing to this Hollow Bastion place with it.

Still it wasn’t all bad. Body or not, I was still able to fly around with Sora. He doubted that I’d believe him if he told me.

I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him what I’ve been up to in his heart.

Entry 12: Riku…

I’m back in my body. I wish it was as simple as Sora making contact with it, but things took a turn for the worse this time around.

I need to start from the beginning.

Right before we reached Hollow Bastion, Sora was able to connect with me. He awoke a memory of mine that I’d long forgotten since I came to the island: my favorite story that my grandmother would always tell me. Remembering it gave me this warm feeling, one that intensified when we arrived at Hollow Bastion. 

Only to have that feeling crushed when Riku took the Keyblade from Sora.

I’m glad Sora was able to get it back and knock some sense into Riku, but for a moment Sora really felt at his lowest. Sora was able to become his old self again, but deep in his heart was so much hurt at the fact that he lost Riku to the darkness. Not just any darkness, but from this man named Ansem. He was the one who revealed I was inside Sora’s  heart. Sora was able to beat the possessed Riku, but in the end he made a sacrifice I don’t think I could ever pay him back for.

Losing Sora in my arms made me feel even more useless than I did while I was inside his heart. Interestingly enough, when my heart left Sora’s body, I felt another leave as well. It wasn’t like Sora’s heart, but certainly had similar vibes to it.

Regardless, somehow I was able to bring him back from being a Heartless, but the feeling of losing him in my arms like that is something I don’t want to experience again.

We ended up leaving Hollow Bastion shortly after that. When Sora and I were alone, I was finally able to tell Sora that I was with him the entire time. I had so much I wanted to tell him, but there wasn’t enough time in the world. Not to mention all the unfinished business we had back at Hollow Bastion. I wanted to come with Sora, but he was right. It is dangerous, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t really have any ways to protect myself...

I gave Sora my lucky charm. Wherever he goes, I’ll be there with him.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Entry 13: For Our Eyes Only

Hi there diary, this might be the last time I update this formerly mental journal. 

Sora’s gone off on another adventure to save Riku. He saved all of the worlds, but wasn’t able to save his best friend. If I was in Sora’s shoes, which I might as well have been, I would have done the same thing for either of them. As for me, I’m back on the islands safe and sound. Part of me wanted to jump across the darkness and into Sora’s arms once more. But after fighting for so long to keep me safe, I think the best I can do for Sora is to let this one wish come true.

I know he’ll come back for me. After all, he still needs to give me back my lucky charm. And when he does, I’ll make sure to give him this handwritten diary to help him understand just exactly what I went through on this adventure. No…

Our adventure.

---

When I started this fic, I was honestly thinking about dropping it and starting from scratch with a new idea. Quite frankly, I’m glad I decided to keep at it. I’m pretty proud of the result and feel that I’ve made a somewhat creative little oneshot!

Once again, thank you to the Sokai: Destined Oath Discord server for introducing me to SoKai Week 2020! Special thanks to the server member Gee for acting as my Beta Reader.

Thanks for Reading!

[fansplaining]

Hello! I'm curious to know your opinion. I've been working on this long fic for months. Ever since I started writing there has been a bunch of anon's under different names telling me how to write each chapter. Saying things like "make (A) do this", "(b) needs to do that." "I expect this to happen to (C)" Etc. On one hand I'm grateful for the feedback, after all what writer isn't, but of 10 comments, 9 are like this. I'm starting to feel my writing isn't good enough for my readers.

Hello anon! Elizabeth here. Hooooo boy let me tell you, as I was reading this I went on a **journey**. When I reached “9 out of 10,” I went, “WHAT.” I have a few thoughts, and without knowing the full context (what your story is like, what fandom it’s in, etc etc) some of this might apply and some might not. But I think it’s all generally useful for fic writers and readers to think about.

This actually got pretty long, so I’ll put my thoughts under a cut.

 1) The story vs reader expectations

This is something I think about—and talk about—a lot. Here’s a bit of what I said while discussing what “OOC” actually means a few episodes back: 

Humans act irrationally, and I think that you can write a character acting irrationally well. But to me, that’s not a character acting out of character. That’s a character acting against character, irrationally... I think when we say “out of character” about characters we’re actually saying something different, which is: “Have you done the work to show why the character would respond to this situation X way or Y way?” And if he responds Z way, and you haven’t done any of the work to show why he might do that or any of the consequences if it is truly out of character the way we would say a real human acts out of character—then very often it is bad writing. It is people taking plot ideas and then imposing them over their characters without earning it.

These conversations are a huge part of our discussions about media in recent years—whether writing choices are good, whether they are earned, whether they are “in character,” whether they conform to what we expected. But the last one is where things get really murky—because there are *a lot* of readers and viewers these days who are kind of doing what I’m accusing bad writers of doing in that quote—imposing their expectations over the story without really grasping what’s been set up by the writer(s).

There are a lot of parts to this. We often pinpoint Lost as the place where the modern audience’s inclination to “solve” a show was born, and this has spread throughout viewing/reading cultures over the past two decades. The rise of “spoiler culture” is a huge factor here, too—as if knowing plot points is the only thing of value when viewing or reading a piece of entertainment. My least favorite thing in all of this is TV Tropes and the kind of rewiring of peoples’ brains to *only* look for those concepts (which are often weirdly narrow and reductive, unlike, say, the more categorical tropes of fic or the romance genre). 

Here’s an example: in 2017, Gav and I made our love of Black Sails the centerpiece of our fandom newsletter, The Rec Center, and in the process got a lot of people to watch it. And because we were the ones that inspired them, I had a fair number of people in my mentions/messaging me to give their real-time reactions as they went through the episodes.

While not every single writing choice on Black Sails is flawless, much of it is meticulously done, and so many of the plot points are carefully well-earned. But the things people were guessing would happen next in my mentions...were bonkers. Not everyone! But it was enough people (guessing different things) that I was kind of floored. I would think, If that’s what you think is going to happen next, I feel like you aren’t paying attention to the show? I should clarify that this happened with *a lot* of people, not trying to call anyone in particular out. But so many of the guesses felt like they came from expectations imposed by other media, especially stuff that’s signficantly more formulaic and tropey. 

This instinct—to predict, to vocally desire outcomes, to try and get ahead of the writers, to impose the structures of other media over the thing you’re watching—is *deep* in a lot of viewers’ and readers’ minds these days, and it comes out regardless of the quality of the writing. I think it’s not a great turn of events, to be honest—and it leads writers to make some really foolish choices in an attempt to “trick” viewers with something they never could’ve guessed. Which...generally makes for bad writing overall. 

2) Expectations within your fic

So this is the part where I falter a bit without context. Because some fic writers make it clear that they are posting as they write, and that they’re open to suggestions for plot choices. I assume you haven’t done this, or you wouldn’t be unhappy that people are trying to dictate what comes next. 

I’m curious if you are signalling that you’re...OK? with these kinds of comments by, say, writing nice replies that don’t make it clear that you know where you’re going with the story and you’ve already made choices about what happens next. There’s definitely a way to strike that balance, like a very polite evasion, something like, “Haha, thanks for the comment! I have the whole fic plotted out, so you’ll just have to wait and see!” If you start to signal that you’re in control of the plot, not the commenters, perhaps they’ll chill out a bit—because I gotta be honest, the fact that this is 90% of the comments...is wild to me. And I’m wondering if people are doing it because they see other people doing it. 

Again, total speculation without any actual context. I think that this sort of thing is likely more common in certain fandoms and with certain age groups. Even on AO3, fandom is not a monolith—I wonder if you’ve noticed this with other longfics in your fandom. It might be worth checking out how other writers have handled it, if they’re getting flooded with comments like these. 

I posted a longish fic recently, 75K over the course of three months, and let me tell you, no offense to any of my commenters, but a few of them reminded me of those Black Sails folks: What story are you actually reading?? I politely pushed back with one who asserted a whole bunch of stuff that was not in the story at all and tried to predict what would happen based on what was frankly bad reading comprehension. With others who expressed expectations about where things would go, I went the, “Haha you’ll have to wait and see!” route.

Talking to other people who’ve posted chapter-by-chapter longfics, I know that some of the bad predictions are par for the course: being absolutely certain the trouble in a section won’t be resolved, being convinced that any hint that the ship may not stay together will come to pass, even when, what, 95% of all shippy fic has the characters staying together? There’s a sort of performativity of immediate reactions in fic commenting, “OH NO, OH NO, ARE THEY BREAKING UP?” Like, duh, not forever. But commenting as real-time reaction is clearly the way a lot of readers engage with fic. Which is fine! That’s different from dictating the plot to you. 

3) The commenters vs your story

OK, so conceptually swinging back to the first bit, while my immediate response to, “I'm starting to feel my writing isn't good enough for my readers,” is NO NO NO JUST BECAUSE AN AUDIENCE IS SAYING SOMETHING DOESN’T MEAN YOU ARE BAD AND THEY ARE CORRECT. But! I think it might be worth spending a liiiitttle bit of time with them to see what they are saying, and how you think that connects back to what you’ve written. 

When folks came at me with, “I think X will happen next in Black Sails,” I, as a person who’s watched it several times and also professionally deconstructs texts as a critic, can go through and be like, “Here’s why I think that’s a misreading of what you’ve seen so far” (though mostly I would just say things like, “Why try to predict the plot! Just enjoy it!” because I’m trying not to be a dick). Rewatching the show, I can see all the things the writers carefully laid out, and how they pay off eventually. Can I imagine alternate choices for the characters? Sure! But I can see why, with the specific context and stakes in which characters made decisions, the writers had them do what they did. If they made other choices, I’d want that similar sort of work-showing. 

Similarly, when I got the occasional comment like this on the aforementioned fic, I would take it seriously for a moment. Why are they predicting this? Is it possible I haven’t shown my work enough? As I was writing, I thought very carefully about the characters and their motivations and the way certain events shaped their choices, and how changing events would change those choices. Generally, those comments felt, well, unearned: they were more about the reader than about the actual story. 

It helped having a beta who is both smart and scary, and wouldn’t hesitate to tell me if something wasn’t working. A big issue with the “no feedback in fanfic” convo is decontextualized “feedback” from random readers is not really useful! You have people coming from all sorts of backgrounds, all levels of reading comprehension, all sorts of contexts. Everyone can give you their *reaction* to your work, of course, but without that context of critique—the thing you have with a beta/editor, or if you’re in a writing workshop or group—it’s rare that some rando can give you truly useful feedback. 

But! That brings me back to 9 out of 10. I think, with that many people weighing in, it’s worth doing a little bit of serious consideration. Just read back over the story. If you can see ways that you zigged when you were signalling that you were going to zag, then your commenters might have a point. If they’re guessing character X might do Y next, and you’ve planned to have him do Z but actually haven’t done the legwork to make Z seem like a sensible next step, then that might be a fair read. Especially when they say, “I expect X will do Y,” try to figure out to the root of that expectation. Is this about the story, or is it about them? 

Because no audience is some neutral set of readers, and fandom even less so. People might tell you to do something because they hate one character and love another. People might hate your ship and for some reason are choosing to read it anyway. People have a million different contexts they bring to reading a work and not infrequently, they are reading through sets of expectations formed by other pieces of media that have very little to do with your own. 

4) tl;dr

The ~wisdom~ of the crowd is not inherently greater than the wisdom of the writer. Many people in fandom are very thoughtful readers—probably some of the most thoughtful readers out there! But plenty...are not. And that’s fine! They’re obviously still free to comment. I’d love to say, “ignore them, write for yourself, you’re writing the story you wanna write,” but I know how frustrating this must be for you. So give them a little consideration, but not too much. And most importantly, if you have a beta, ask them their opinion of these comments—and if you don’t have a beta, get one! Because a reader you know and whose opinions you trust is so much more valuable than random anon comments, no matter the circumstances. 

[early-sxnsets]

Like A Rom-Com

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917009

Word Count: 9363

Summary: Baz Pitch doesn't think he'll ever get to love Simon Snow the way he wants to. A trope-filled weekend proves otherwise.

Carry On Countdown Day 14: Cliché

Of all places I thought I'd ever find myself, sitting on a train beside Simon Snow on a Thursday night is not exactly at the top of my list

There's plenty of more seemingly plausible situations I could be in. For example, a ditch, or in the middle of Mumbai without my mobile and only one shoe. Or, better yet, the goddamn moon. But, no, I’m in a seat beside him, our three-days worth of overnight bags tucked up into the slots above us as we sit in complete and utter silence.

I didn't even get the window seat. He took it first, and despite my protests, he told me to “Suck it”, then sat there.

I'm starting to wonder why I got myself into this. Why I asked Simon Snow of all people to do this. We aren't even fond of each other’s presence (well, on the surface; dare I admit further). Yet, with all our past squabbling aside, here we are. About to spend a whole convention under a façade of a relationship purely as a ploy for money. Theoretically, I should feel disgusted over my actions, but instead I’m a tad proud of how easy it was to get Snow to cave and help me. All it took was telling him the event would include a free banquet, then suddenly he was all there for it.

“I don't see why you wanted me to come, though,” he'd brought up on the platform, wearing his dark green bomber jacket. “I mean, of all other student leaders, you really thought of me?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes and turning my head towards the wind. “Don't flatter your capabilities, Snow. You're simply a pretty face to look at, andyou're incredibly sociable.”

“Sociable, am I?” he grinned, nudging me with his elbow, making my head snap towards him and throwing him a somewhat convincing look of disgust.

“To those who don't find you undyingly insufferable, sadly, yes.”

I'm surprised at how hard it is to really insult him. Sure, we’re at each other's throats all the time during charity events and whatnot. Supposed to promote positivity and show up as the student leaders of the school, but I may have once tripped him and sent him flying into a plate of cocktail shrimp (give it to him to somehow make that charming, though). Once, he took the piss to ask me how I got to my positions of power by just buying everyone else off the council.

I'll give it to him, people like him. That's why I've got him sitting beside me on this rattling train instead of anyone else on campus, but he seems to dismiss any mere hint of hard work. It must sound foreign to him, to have to work towards a place of respect.

People fear me. They always have. But I don't get here out of fear, I get here out of work built from furthering that fear into respect. Goddamn full time job.

“So,” he pipes up, yanking his earbud out as his head swivels to face me. “What do I have to do exactly ?”

“Look pretty. Smile and nod, make people care about us. At least, during the banquet and the aftermath. Feel free to be as aloof as you usually are for the rest of the conference--sleep in the hotel room, for all I care.”

He twists the cords to the earbuds, eyes casting downwards before rising back up to me. “What conference is it, again?”

I can't help but roll my eyes at him. It isn't like I explained twice already. “Social Awareness and Activism.”

He nods, letting it process before his face contorts into a frown. “Hey, wait! Why wasn't I invited, then?”

“Because” I begin, not even giving him the satisfaction of my gaze as I stare ahead. “You're student council. I lead the Gender and Sexualities Association and lest you forget, I run the Diversities office.”

He lets that one slide, because he knows he definitely doesn't have me beat in this one. Student Council pricks usually have such an air of superiority over us. Arseholes.

“That's why you asked me to be your fake date…” he says, absolutely more to himself, but still making me scoff as loudly as I physically can.

“Dear god, please tell me you did not just now figure out I'm gay,” I mumble, my head falling into my hand as my fingers pinch my bridge. My head turns to a completely oblivious Snow shrugging at me. “What, a closet full of florals and the rainbow pin on my satchel never gave it away?”

“I… I don't like to assume…” he shrugs, looking back out the window before turning back to me quickly. “It's all fine, by the way!”

“Wow, I'm absolutely delighted that you give me your blessing to be queer,” I monotone, staring at him. It does matter, though. Just a bit, but it does.

That properly shuts him up.

The rest of the ride starts off awkward, but eventually he falls asleep, arms crossed over his chest as his mouth gapes open. He breathes with his mouth, like some dog.

In all honesty, I wish I wasn't in love with him. It's so ridiculously unfortunate that it came to this mess being the one I long after. Granted, he's ridiculously handsome in that nearly crossline between rugged and ‘Perfect Man’ way. He obviously forgets to shave regularly, but his stubble comes out a soft blonde (like right now). He's got knick scars over his hands, injury marks from years of use, and lasting muscles to prove it. His hair always seems a mess, but in the most innocent of ways. It always seems so soft, so thick.

He's one of those straight guys you hate to love. The kind that you had a class or two with, but never spoke to; the kind you see on campus with his girlfriend at his arm. Or, used to. Heard that's history.

I steal a long look at him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I hope it's history.

Maybe this will be like one of those cliché rom-coms where he warms up to me over a weekend of exposure and suddenly, he figures out he's loved me too this entire time, he just wasn't ready to come to terms with it.

With a groan, his head turns in his sleep and faces towards the window. With that, his neck shows on full display, revealing that little mole, right below his ear, that I've had on mind since I noticed it. I map it out with my eyes, cheeks flushing in the slightest as my mind runs over what I'd do if I just had the opportunity…

The train screeches to a stop, pulling into the last station from ours.

Brilliant.

My hand rests against Snow's forearm, resisting the urge to curl around his bicep as I give him a jostle. “Snow,” I start gently before clearing my throat and saying “Snow” clearly. He jerks aware, eyes flying open and glancing around before landing on my face. I feel him relax underneath me. I'm still holding his arm.

“Nearly there?” he groans groggily, eyes drooping closed again.

“Sort of,” I say without my usual bite, stretching my arms. “maybe 10 minutes more, 15.”

He just gives me a nod, eyes running over the cabin as he yawns. “Do we have anything to do tonight?”

I shake my head as I pack away my (untouched) book. “No.” I punctuate it with the snap of my satchel pocket. “We check into the hotel, and I have to check in with the coordinator. I have a half an hour introduction, then I'm free.”

“I could go to the introduction with you,” he offers, no hints of hesitation in his voice. Throws me off a bit.

“You don't need to.” I don't tell him no. I don't have to. I don't want to.

“I want to,” he says bluntly, throwing me for a fucking curveball. I gape at him shamelessly for a second before he finishes it (with a little delay), “I mean, it'll make our couple play a lot more believable, right?”

Sure. That. “You're not wrong,” I relent, standing as the wheels squeal against the harsh metal. I steady myself against a seat as the train pulls into the station, reaching for the bags and settling them down wordlessly. Simon takes his cue and grabs his own, following me as I wheel it off towards the exit.

“We'll need to get a cab,” I say, awkwardly patting for my phone as we follow the exit signs within the station. “Hotel's not far, it's just that I'm not too keen on a half an hour walk right now.”

Leave it to Snow to flag a cab in less than three minutes. All it takes is for him to flash his gorgeous smile and one comes to a halt right in front of us.

After tossing our bags in the boot, I glance up to see Snow, holding the door with gentlemanly grace and an unmistakably friendly grin. “Come on, then,” he urges, trying to wave me inside.

Leave it to Snow to make my heart skip a beat.

The ride there is awfully brief, but I tip the driver generously, sliding out and hurriedly drawing our belongings out before taking a silent second to myself. This is fine. Everything will be fine.

Everything would be fine if Snow stopped staring at me as if I were bonkers.

“What?” I snap, crinkling my nose in his direction.

“I… it’s just…” he stutters back, eyes shooting wide as he searches for an answer. “you look… like you're thinking about something. That's all.”

I tame my expression back, inhaling sharply before pushing past with my suitcase dragging behind me. “Piss off.” That's all I really manage, a halfhearted ‘piss off’.

For the first time today, I feel like this truly might’ve been a mistake.

The inside lobby’s quite nice; reminds me a little too much of my dining room at home, with the chandelier and all, but it's welcoming.

“Double room under Pitch,” I tell the concierge, fingers drumming rhythmically against the marble countertop. My eyes drift, looking up and around but never forward. Not until the typing stops and I’m greeted with a friendly grin as the room key cards slide across towards me.

“You're room 1124, continental breakfast runs from 6-10, and your checkout time is Sunday at noon. Any questions?”

“No,” I say quickly, pocketing the cards and nodding my head as I thank her before making a b-line towards the elevators. Luckily, Snow seems to know when to shut up.

Unluckily, maybe I should've spoken up earlier.

“A double bed,” I breathe, staring at the single queen sized bed against the wall. “Not… a double room…”

I feel Snow’s eyes turn towards me from over my shoulder as I flush a deep red, groaning and running a hand through my hair to push it back (despite the fact that I slick it).

“I… can sleep on the couch?”

“For three nights? Nonsense; you’ll kill your back, then I’ll have to listen to you complain the whole trip back.”

“Then what do you suppose we do?”

Shit. Maybe I am getting my terrible rom-com. “The beds large enough to share…”

I watch as he steps into the room, his bag dropping beside the dresser as his hand smooths against the sheet. “Suppose I'm fine with that, so long as you are too?”

Fine? With sharing the bed with most likely the most attractive man I’ve ever met? “It's bearable.”

With a nod, he stands back up and stretches. “I take the left side,” he calls out, strolling in front of me and into the bathroom, closing himself inside and leaving me motionless at the doorway. This cannot be happening. I refuse to believe that this, this very event is occurring. If it wasn’t strange enough to be going on a trip and acting in a fake relationship with Snow, it’s even worse that I’m sharing a bed with him.

I feel like it’s only a second between when he closes the door before stepping back out. As he comes back into view, he’s wiping his hands on a hand towel and looking at me like I grew a second head. “What’re you still doing there?” he asks, frowning a tad. I want to wipe the look clean off his face.

“I’m… nothing. Thinking.”

He grins at me with all his teeth, like a fucking sunbeam. “Well, stop that. Don’t you have an introductory session to get to?”

I snap out of my daze, blinking rapidly before settling my belongings inside. “Are you sure you want to come?” I ask, fixing my hair in the mirror as I send side-eyed glances at him. “You don’t have to…”

“I think it’d be best if I do.” He stretches in the middle of the room, cracking his back before jumping (why do straight men do that?)

I can’t help but roll my eyes and grab my key card, thumb running over the back as I send bored glances at him. “Can we leave yet?”

He nods, bounding out the door in front of me and bouncing down the hall.

As we exit the elevator, I feel something press against my lower back. At a glance, I realize that it’s Snow’s hand, settling against my shirt and giving off the clear implication that there is something definitely between us. Clever, but heartstopping.

He keeps it there as I sign in, following me to the conference room and settling in the seat beside me with his arm resting delicately around my shoulders. It’s nearly too overwhelming; the proximity, the publicness. I’d assumed, when I invited him, that it’d simply be a one-night show we’d put on. Go through dinner, act cordial enough to seem like we’re a plausible couple, then remain in a state of disdain and turbulence until we both graduate and proceed to never see each other again.

I had not considered, though, that he’d go above and beyond in this ‘fake relationship’ business. Especially not to the point where he is now with a hand settled against the back of my head, threading in between strands of my hair. I send him a look, eyebrows knit together as I try to read whatever’s on his face.

It’s like his handwriting; unreadable.

Another thing I had not considered, though, was the possibility that Penelope Bunce would be at this event too.

I don’t think Simon thought so either, because the moment we both spot her, his hand yanks out of my hair and he sits bolt upright. As if he was caught with his tongue down my throat (I’m allowed to have fantasies).

She’s rushing over, face riddled with confusion and a tad amount of amusement. Her mouth opens to say something as she stops, hands on her hips, but Simon’s already cutting her off.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” he calls innocently, eyes wide and puppy-like, almost like Bunce is his mother or something.

“Of course I’m here; I told you I was going to a conference this weekend, Simon.” Her eyes flick between us before she laughs. “Holy fuck, how did Inot see this? Si, you could’ve just told me you two--”

“What? N--” he stops himself, flinching in his spot before shooting up to stand. “Let’s, uh, find somewhere else to talk.”

The expressions coming from Bunce’s face are priceless, especially the way she gapes as she’s pulled away, head turned towards me as I wave goodbye.

Snow looks like he’s had the shit beaten out of him when he gets back.

Not physically, but he definitely looks shaken while Bunce just looks a bit pleased with herself. In all honesty, she could easily take over the world and destroy it in under a week, if she wanted to. Instead, she’s off getting her English degree with a minor in Women’s Studies. Fascinating.

She sits herself on the other side of me, leaving Simon to settle against my arm after she laid it out on him. “So, Basilton,” she hums, “clever idea, really.” She curls a hand around the cuff of my sleeve and yanks, pulling me down so only I’m in earshot as she glares daggers at me. “But if you so much as hurt Simon, I will make sure that you’ll never find your precious styling products anywhere in this town again.”

I truly hate to admit that I actually gasp at that. As in an audible, full on gasp. Like some pathetic fucking twink that I refuse to be labelled purely as. “I’ll buy it online then, Bunce.” She’s still downright terrifying, though.

She just grins and turns her head forward, mumbling something about it being an interesting weekend as the speaker comes on. Slowly, I feel Snow's arm snake back around my shoulders, simply resting on my neck this time. Over time, his thumb starts absentmindedly stroking the skin it's resting on, but it doesn't go further from there. Although undeniably comforting, the looks he’s getting from Bunce are, mildly put, unsettling.

Thank fuck it's over before I know it. There's a cheesy joke about travel exhaustion before the round of applause fills the crowd. My head slowly turns to face Snow’s, heart racing as his fingertips trail my hairline. “Let's head back to the room? I think there's room service…” And Bunce is nerving me out.

Retracting his hand, he stretches and nods. “Sounds good.” He practically leaps to his feet, throwing a smile at Bunce and cheerful giving a goodnight hug as I stand at my leisure.

As we make our get-away, I can feel her eyeing us up from behind. It feels like I’m a guilty party; like I've got some ulterior motives. Honestly, Iwish I was suave enough to have them. If I could just plan a weekend away with Snow in the expectation of him falling in love with me, then I'd just retire my education and turn to a life of magic, because I'd have to have him under a spell to make that work.

On the way to the elevator, though, Snow makes a tug at my sleeve, stopping me in my tracks. Raising my brows, my mouth starts to form a “What?”, but gets cut off before it even starts.

“I'm not too tired, if you want to go sit down…?”

I look sideways at him, blinking and letting myself process it. “Get dinner. You want to get dinner?”

“Well… yeah? We're here, and there's a place in the hotel.”

From a moment's glance, there’s nobody in sight (nor earshot, for that matter) here to witness it, so I’m not really sure why he's asking me to get dinner with him rather than stuffing away in the room where we can avoid each other on our phones. In fact, it'd be significantly easier for him to tell me to fuck off and go eat dinner by himself. But, no. He's asking me to sit down with him.

“Fine, but let's not take forever.”

A drink or two (or three) later, I don't care about time anymore. There's only two things I care about; Simon Snow's foot touching my leg, and Simon Snow himself.

He polishes off his drink (I can't remember, 2nd or 3rd), wetting his lips as he runs a hand through his curls. “What’d you think about soulmates?”

It's an innocent enough question. After all, what do I think about about soulmates? The question’s easy enough to answer, and the way his face has been pink and smile grows even looser makes me wonder which response I wanna give him. Reasonable-brained Baz would probably say something protective and flat enough to drive away any admissions of feelings..

I'm not quite Reasonable-Baz right now, though. “I think it's a thing,” I mumble into my glass, sipping slowly and meeting his eye as it settles back onto the table. It’s the cosmopolitan speaking through me. “Not like… something stupid, like everyone’s off to be destined to love someone because they're star-matched or whatever the fuck. No red string of fate. It’s just… people matching. And they always match. Not perfect, but complements to each other.”

He's staring at me like I've said something profound, but I’m not entirely sure what came out as coherent and what else came out as an intoxicated slur.

“So…” My elbows rest against the table in terrible etiquette, chin settling on my palms. “Your go.”

“I… I was… well… that string thing. I'd heard it, and I think it’s somethin’ like that, yeah?” His knee bumps back into mine, shooting tingling down my leg. “Like you've got a pull to your soulmate.”

“A pull?”

He nods as he waves for another drink, eating off the last of my chips. I think he’s bound to polish them off.

“Like it’s in your gut. It yanks you forward, more and more, until you get that meeting it wants.”

Is it a joke? Who knows if it's a joke, but shit, I laugh at it anyway. “W'don't live in a fantasy world, Snow. Wish we did, but it's not Harry Potter.”

Snow pouts in somewhat an endearing way, studying my face as he shoves another few chips into his mouth. The server drops off another drink, to which Simon draws his attention to as if it's the most lovely thing he's ever seen in his life. I wish he'd look at me like that.

His face lazily lifts, smile keeping as he stares across at me. “I… think you're a Hufflepuff.”

“Dear God, Snow, you're smashed. Stop talking.”

“Noooo!” he complains, hand reaching out and resting over mine. “You're friendly under all that mean boy bullshit!”

Someone at a nearby table throws a glare at us, and suddenly I remember we're not quite alone.

Without much thought, I turn my hand over and slowly drag my fingers down Snow's palm. He shivers against me. “I'm a Ravenclaw. The test said so,” I murmur, my voice dropping to the privacy of just him and I.

I choose to believe his blush is in my imagination.

He takes a long drink, fingers dragging back before threading forward and interlocking between mine. “‘M Gryffindor.”

“No shit,” I laugh, suddenly becoming aware of how we're sitting. Leaned forward, heads much closer than they were before. The scent of hard cider and fried chips waft off him. I hate to admit that it makes my heart race faster.

After minutes of what's most likely just an odd closeness, I find myself stopping whatever this is. With a wave to the waiter, they stop by and run our room key through.

Snow's hand keeps against mine, his eyes locked on me and starting to sag with drunken tiredness.

He stays like that, all the way up to our floor.

The chime of the elevator makes me bump his shoulder, urging him out into the hall. “Come on, Simon.”

He jerks himself upright, blinking back to somewhat coherence before following me to the room. I swipe us in, letting him dislodge from my side as he throws himself onto the bed fully dressed.

After a run to the bathroom, changing into my flannel bottoms and a tee, it hits me that Snow's probably planning to pass out like this.

“Hey,” I whisper, practically pushed up to his side. He lifts his head, squinting at me curiously. It takes a second to realize his eyes pinpointed to my lips. “Don't you need to change?”

Sleepily, he closes his eyes again and shrugs, head falling towards mine. His forehead brushes against me.

“M’ fine,” he whispers, “‘m sleepy…”

In this moment, it'd be so easy to just reach out and touch his hair. I can feel it now, tickling against my hairline as he curls up into himself.

“Can… you get my shoes?” he slurs, feet wiggling.

I think I really love him.

I love him so much that I'm unlacing his Converse, sat up at the end of the bed and settling them aside. My hand steals a brush against his calf, mind not completely working as I tug it a little.

He gasps somewhat under his breath. “Y'can take off my clothes, if you want…”

I more than fucking want to.

I'm respectful, of course, but fucking hell, I want this man to rip me to shreds.

I don't let on, though. Respectfully, my eyes advert as I take my time to help him undress, ignoring the frankly obnoxious amount that I’m blushing.

“Thanks,” Snow mumbles as he yanks up the sweats I'd handed to him. “M a bit trashed.”

“A bit?”

He giggles. He sounds like sunshine feels. “Maybe a bit more than a bit.”  An arm lazily throws across the bed and pats. “Lay down. Sleep.”

Somewhere in him, he must be a fucking genie, because I'm following his commands.

One of my hands moves down and drags the blankets on top of us, the hand resting in the middle of our empty space.

It's so odd to hear him breathe. To witness him live so openly and so close.

I want all of it.

I want this forever.

My body, though, doesn't. I don't remember falling asleep, but waking up feels like a bitch.

The room's loud. Why is the room so loud?

Oh, fuck, that's my alarm.

I slide it off, tiredly rubbing my eyes and dragging myself upright. Beside me, Snow's groaning and covering his face with an elbow. “‘S too bright,” he complains, turning away from the light.

It's sort of endearing to watch him like this. Although, honestly, it'd be more endearing if my head wasn't thumping.

After rifling through my bag for far too long, I grab out some pain relievers and swallow them with a cupped handful of tap water. Not ideal, granted, but helpful.

After painfully getting through my morning routine, I stand at the end of the bed in a full day's outfit with crossed arms and a pointed glare. With a clearing of my throat, Snow jolts awake and lowers his arm to look at me. “The fuck you want?”

“I'd much like to actually get breakfast, and if you'd wish to join me for some seminars, I'd recommend getting up now.”

“Y'had me at breakfast.” Scrubbing his face, his legs swing over the side of the bed and kick a little. “Do I have to dress like a tit?”

“And wearing a hoodie with jeans every day of your life doesn't make you a tit?”

He just huffs in response.

It isn't hard to get him to breakfast, but it's a bit difficult to get him out of it. Eventually, though, he relents (while stuffing three napkin-wrapped muffins into his hoodie).

The seminars aren't exactly enthralling; everything discussed is relatively baseline. I have a tendency to educate myself without an outside source, but there is one major benefit to attending them. Snow's hand has not left my hair in the past hour and a half. Well, that’s when he’s not eating the food he’s snuck in. I want to call him a pig, but at the same time, he offers me half the muffin and I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.

I'm relatively sure that I've been purring when he rubs the back of my head. I don't know this for sure, but fucking hell, it feels like I most likely have been.

Even when we do move, he settles his hand on my lower back, sending my nerve ablaze. It's a tad self-indulgent, but I feel myself drift closer to him as we walk, subtly placing my hand onto his shoulder and rubbing back and forth slowly. Every movement makes my heart race a bit more than I think I’ll ever admit.

They provide lunch, and Snow ends up eating half of mine as we discuss what we just listened to.

“So people don’t just know not to be dicks to each other?” he says through a mouthful of sandwich, not bothering to swallow before he goes off.

“Some people don’t know, no.”

“Well that’s bullshit and I don’t like it.”

My cheeks tease a smile, warming to a mild blush. “Well, I feel like I’m obligated to agree on the premise.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, taking a few more bites before managing to chew thoughtfully and swallow before speaking again. “Was your mum as outspoken about this stuff?”

It throws me a bit off guard, making me nearly drop the apple in my hand. “How do you know about my mother?”

“I… well... um…”

“Spit it out, Snow.”

“I went to your speech last year.” The words tumble out of him, nearly jumbling in the process. “The one where you talked about inclusivity on campus and all that shit--not shit! Just, you know, stuff. And well, you’d mentioned your mum was the first non-white president of the uni and I was just wondering if she was as vocal as you are. That’s all.”

While he’s talking, my heart starts swelling. For starters, he actually went to my speech (which just saying he did doesn’t fully make sense as to why he went), but he was also listening to it. It just sounds unbelievable.

My weight shifts. “Yes, she was,” I begin, dropping in volume and sounding softer than the typical voice I use with him. “She was always honest and so, so bold. She’d give speeches fairly regularly, too. It’s a shame I never really got to see her in action, thought.”

As I speak, I nervously fiddle with the empty sugar packet from my coffee and wait for him to do something, anything to make this easier.

That something, apparently, is his hand reaching out to grab mine (which doesn’t really make it easier on me, since it makes my heart explode into a swarm to fluttering butterflies).

“I’m sorry you never got that chance,” he says ever-so-softly, sweeping my hand over and resting ours together, palm-to-palm. I’m afraid he can read my pulse. “If it makes you feel any better, I never met my mum. Or my da, for that matter.”

“Oh.” Orphaned. That... sort of makes sense.

He just nods to that, shrugging his neverendingly complicated I’m-Doing-This-Instead-Of-Talking shrug. It makes me want to sneer.

I don’t, though. I hold myself back, pulling my lips back into my mouth and biting to keep them shut.

I don’t suffer in silence too long, as everyone else around us starts wrapping up and heading off to the next seminar. We both catch a gaze at Bunce as she converses with a table of students, seeming enthralled with her discussion. It’s easy to tell that Snow’s a bit disappointed, but I squeeze his hand in subtle reassurance that he’s not a backup (I don’t mention that she saw us holding hands while coming in, therefore avoided us).

The rest of the day is just as much as a bore as the start, and we don’t bother with a big dinner like the night before, either. Instead, we both silently retire back to the room and I phone for some takeout while we put on the telly. Flipping through channels provide a true bore of a time, though, so ultimately we just end up talking again.

And talking. And talking.

And break for dinner, and talking, and talking.

A few days ago, I wouldn’t image we’d have so much to talk about, but now he’s laughing at a story I’ve got about a teacher we both happened to have, just for separate classes. He’s got such a brilliant laugh; it’s one of those kinds that tosses his head back and fills the room with a deep, mirthful wave. It amazes me how much he’s relaxed, sprawled back in a tee and his jeans, which are now without his belt. Makes my heart race just watching him be happy and makes my head spin even more with just knowing that it’s in my presence alone. I wish I could bottle it and it keep it in my pocket for harder days.

Before we know it, it’s half past one and we can barely keep our eyes open. But, nonetheless, we sleepily mumbling back and forths with heavily blinking eyes and soft smiles. Thank god he changed himself into pajamas tonight, and I did so while he was taking a brief shower a few hours ago. Now we’re simply laying here, albeit incredibly closer than we were the last night. I can nearly touch him; if only I extended a hand out, I could brush it against his ankle, since he’s got his legs pulled in.

We speak between yawns, not really having much in particular to talk about in depth without

In the pale moonlight shining through the drawn curtains, I can see the outline of Simon’s head slowly lifting from his pillow, propping up at his elbow. “You know,” he says, “I don’t know if I’m straight or not.” He’s stretching back out now, feet brushing mine as they extend downwards on the bed.

I smile mostly because I know he can’t really see me in the shadow of his own head. “Why do you say that, Snow?”

“Well, I’ve never snogged a bloke.”

“You think that’s the qualifying factor to make you queer?”

“Not make me queer, but I wonder if snogging a bloke would make me realize something in one way or another.”

I shouldn’t be answering. “Well, why don’t you try?” It comes out as a whisper, eyes searching his nearly unreadable shadowed face.

His shoulders shift, the fabric of his tee straining at his side. “I dunno,” he says hushedly back, sounding closer than before. Even through the weight of my tired eyes, I can tell he’s getting closer now. “Why don’t I?”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I freeze. My limbs go all tingly and numb as my mind races to various ends. Is he trying to say he wants to snog me? It’s probably some sick joke to make me flustered and maybe a little turned on (which thankfully he probably doesn’t know, since I’m on my side/stomach and my legs are laying a bit oddly to press my hips to the bed). Or, maybe, he’s just losing his mind.

As he draws closer, I can barely feel myself breathe. It’s his breath that’s clear as day. “Can I kiss you, Baz?” he utters, eyes lowering to my lips. I want to catch his with mine.

I want something that's been offered, and I’ll take it even if it’s a joke.

So, despite all reservations, I nod anyway.

He takes a full moment’s pause, head looming closer before brushing his lips against mine.

Heart pounding out of my chest and mind reeling, I kiss him back completely on impulse (or, rather, poor impulse). Every part of my body feels like it’s simultaneously in an ice bath and set on fire, but he’s snogging me back and doing this nice thing with his chin that I really want him to do again and fucking hell, is it hot in here? Or freezing? Perhaps both?

He draws back after a minute or so, face barely moving inches away from mine as his body shifts closer. The sheets between us gather, pinching like my gut as his knee raises up and brushed against my outer thigh. There’s seconds of silence within the movements between us, his hand slowly raising up and brushing some hair off my check before settling there. I reach out unsurely, hand resting on his chest as his head lies closer and lifts to look up at me. His heart’s racing out of control, a horse loose off it’s track.

This time, he doesn’t ask. His nose brushes against mine, causing my breath to hitch in a way it’s never gone before, and he takes that as the proper sign to kiss me again.

Thank fuck he does.

We kiss for what feels like hours, his hand eventually running back to my hair and holding the spot he’d had it in earlier today. Mine travels down a bit, pushing away his shirt and resting against his side.

We kiss our lips chapped and tire ourselves out, and even then some. Even as I struggle to stay awake and he’s let back to yawn a few times, we still keep chasing back for exhaustedly excited presses of lips and teases of tongue.

Eventually, though, he’s smiling so tiredly against me that his head falls back and eyes stay shut as he breathes out an “‘M passing out.”

I can’t manage a word right now. I don’t quite know anything about words anymore, except for the very real fact that they’re slipping my tongue.

So, instead, I nod my head and study his face. Just enough of it’s lit, showing the grin on his cheeks as he falls asleep without saying another word.

He keeps pressed to me, though. His hand’s still in my hair, and the leg that was previously thrown over mine is now where it was when we ended; between my thighs.

That’s how we wake up, too.

Except, this time, when my alarm goes off, he’s the one to answer it.

I watch as he swipes it off, looking down at me with a flushed, guilty face as I squint up to him.

It doesn’t last, though, because he seems to answer it with a shove of his lips against mine.

We snog for maybe ten minutes before he pulls himself back with a panicked face. At first, I think he’s about to go absolutely bonkers on me and say some ridiculous shit to break my heart, but instead says the most Simon Snow thing I think anyone could ever say. “Shit, when’s breakfast ending?”

I gawk at him, squinting before saying “10” with a gravely, sleep-filled voice. I don’t even bother to clear it away. “My alarm sets for eight, there’s time.”

He looks absolutely disgusted at that notion. “I can’t eat breakfast in an hour; that’s practically stuffing and running.”

Honest to god, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone get up as fast as he is now.

To cover my probably clear disappointment (and, well, semi I’ve got going), I scoff and roll my eyes as him as he shuffles his body into jeans. “You’re like a bloody Hobbit, Snow. Can’t stop eating.”

He grins at me, grabbing a pair of my trousers from my suitcase and throwing them at my head. “Come on, slowpoke.”

And just like that, it’s not spoken of.

Not through breakfast. Not through the time in between the morning seminars. Not through lunch, either.

He does the same things as the day before; his hand plays with my hair and we hold onto each other while shifting places, but it feels so different today. Every time he touches me, my mind goes completely blank as my heart beats out of control. As if it weren’t bad enough when he did it before, it’s even worse now that we’ve done that .

Whatever that was, anyway.

Fucking hell, what was that? We snogged until we get too tired to even keep awake, and then some.

If I had half a mind, I’d say we woke up in an alternate timeline where we actually are boyfriends, since he’s doing everything he would be doing if he truly was mine. Except, right now, I have no clue as to why this is all happening. He isn’t treating the situation as odd either, which is what throws me off entirely. He’s still chatting about anything and everything else; he’s laughing with my jokes and he’s frowning when I say something sharp, but there’s a new twinkle in his eye whenever I make a biting commentary. It’s the sort of look you give a cat when they’re being an arsehole.

When we finish the afternoon seminars and get dismissed to prepare for the banquet, I find myself jolting at the sudden wrap of his arm around my middle. He starts to draw back at first, but I quickly press my hand to his and keep it against my hip, not daring to look him in the eyes as I press the going up button for the elevator firmly.

The ride’s unnervingly silent, especially with the fiddling of Snow’s hand against my belt loops. He makes my heart pound without much, driving me absolutely mad at each of his subtle movements.

Back in the room, he lets the door slowly swing shut as I go to grab our suits from where they’re hanging in the dresser. The moment it’s clicked shut, though, I find the everliving chaotic energy of his presence right behind me and closing in.

Gently, a kiss falls to my shoulder blade. I shiver unintentionally.

“How long have we got?”

For once, I’m the one choked for words. “W-well, we should be down there by six, and it’s nearly three right now. I was planning on showering before it starts, and probably doing my hair properly, and--”

He’s turning me around as I ramble, hands settling on my hips before shutting me up with a kiss.

He’s good at that. Not just the kissing thing, but the making me stop thinking thing, too.

I give in completely, legs basically turning to jelly as I duck down. I feel him lower back to his feet (as he was originally on his tiptoes to plant the kiss to me), hands keeping tightly to my hips.

I let him untuck my shirt and press to the skin, rounding his hands around my back and tugging me closer towards him.

At this rate, I’d say fuck the dinner. Fuck anything else about everything. I don’t care that we haven’t talked about this, I don’t care about the veryreal possibility that Snow’s using me to experiment his sexuality on in full disregard to my feelings, I don’t care that this could all be a ploy to make me seem weak. I want this to never stop.

It has to, though. I know it has to.

I firmly plant my hands to his shoulders, keeping him still as I pull away. “I really do need to shower.”

For a split second, I’m half convinced he’s going to ask to join (to which I wouldn’t say no, obviously), but I’m fairly sure he decides that’s a poor idea, too.

So, instead, he relents with a nod of his head and a searing peck of his lips to my cheek. It makes me blush like mad.

I spend my entire shower rushing to get out, scrubbing my hair and losing myself in the thought of what’s to happen after this ends. I’m fairly certain that this isn’t going to leave this hotel, but it’s nice to even fantasize the thought of him in my bed, stripped down to his boxers and laughing like he did last night.

Not fucking me, although that’d be a nice follow-up, but just laughing. Sharing a good moment, just him and I, and not letting ourselves fall back into our old habits.

It’s such a weird wet dream to have; to want him to be happy. Most people think about getting plowed in the back of their car or snogging somone senseless against a wall, but with Simon, I just want to see him smile. (Disclaimer, I’ve gone through the motions of wanting him to take me in every situation and position possible, but I was a different man. That was pre-snog Baz).

I go through a routine of blow drying and styling my hair, brushing my teeth again and making myself as aesthetically proper as I can be before stepping out of the room and immediately getting the wind knocked from my lungs.

Snow’s standing in the middle of the room, looking himself up and down in the body mirror dressed up in the suit I’d bought for him.

It’s not perfectly tailored; it’s slightly too tight in the middle, and his shoulders are a bit too unexpectedly broad, but it looks really fucking good on him.

I’ve got to bite my lip from gasping.

“Looks proper,” I let myself say, heart skipping a beat as his head snaps up towards me and grows to a quick grin. As I pass by to grab my own suit, I’m floored by a quick peck on my cheek and a cheeky smile.

He’s going to be the death of me.

I grab my clothes and change in the bathroom, dropping the towel and carefully pulling on layer after layer.

I tie my shoes outside of the room, trying to forget that of course, Snow’s ‘fancy shoes’ are decades old Docs that look like they could very easily be Fi’s.

“Ready?” I ask, making sure I’ve got my cell and room key in my pockets.

He nods, arm looping around mine wordlessly before he drags us out.

Dinner’s… dinner. The food’s pretty good, and Snow and I make easy conversation with the people at the table (as in, Snow starts it with something friendly, then shuts up for most of it as I say intellectual shit and he just rubs my thigh under the table for some unknown, mind boggling reason). We drink a good amount of wine, we laugh, and talk some more.

Then continue to talk around once it ends, mingling within the crowd.

Snow works like a bloody charm. He strikes up cheerful conversations with them, then we all talk for a bit before they hand me a business card with a happy shake of my hand or a clasp on my shoulder.

Soon enough, there’s plenty of people wanting to sponsor events and fundraisers, ranging from donating to involvement. On top of that, there’s countless people coming up to us and ending our conversations with “You make such a cute couple.”

Each time, Snow ends it with an “I know”, arm tugging me closer.

I’m a bit tipsy, so I just lean into him and grin my face off (it feels weird to smile so openly).

After an hour or so, it starts to die down. The attendees are ignored by the workers cleaning the tables, so I slip away from Snow for a second as he chats with an enthusiastic woman, telling him I’m off to the loo. In reality, I’m just sneaking a couple bottles of wine and holding them as subtly as possible in my suit jacket (which is, for note, not subtle at all).

Snow’s alone when I’m done, so I just grab his hand, stuff a bottle into it, and whisper “Run”.

We both break it to make our getaway, nodding to people as we start to quickly head off to our room. Nobody notices us, or more realistically, cares to stop two sort-of drunk early 20s blokes running off with somewhat okay bottles of wine.

In the elevator, we exchange wide eyed grins before bursting into laughter that quickly draws tears from our eyes and makes our stomachs ache from strain. We’re laughing the whole way back to the room, too, and leaning on each other for support as I search for the door key.

It buzzes us through, letting us stumble inside and set the stolen bottles on the coffee table.

After resting mine after his, I feel his hand sweep under my suit jacket and yank me close that way. We’re still laughing, my face planting into his hair and savoring my sweet moment’s luxury.

“Pop them open,” I whisper into him, pressed up close. “I wanna make a toast.”

He giggles and nods compliantly, letting go of me and pouting at the corked tops before rooting around in his backpack for a minute.

As he’s doing whatever it is that he is, I’m untying my shoes and half-throwing them across the room towards my bag, untying my tie and letting it hang around my neck as my jacket finds itself on the floor, too.

I hear a pop as my eyes shut, and soon enough Snow’s looming over me with two opened bottles of white wine.

I take one, scooting to the side and turing my knees onto the bed as I grin at him. He tries to raise his brows in a mock and mimic of me, but it instead looks like he’s shocked (I want to kiss the look off his face).

“A toast,” I begin, giggling before fully raising it to him. “To successfully finessing a room full of rich arses to give the gays some money.”

He smile widely to that, cheeks creasing as he raises his bottle and gently knocks it into mine. “To taking money.”

We both down about half the bottle before I end up in his lap, having him play with my hair as I recite as much of Hamlet as I can remember (given I was in a production when I was 16). He’s silent, this big grin stretched across his face as I glaze over chunks of scenes with “And fuck Claudius” or “and Hamlet, who was fucking hot in the movie”. I break between scenes and take a gulp of my wine, as compares to Snow who sips his throughout.

Easy to say, by the end of the play, we’re both completely plastered.

Our mostly empty bottles end up on our nightstands as I dive my face into his stomach and nuzzle shamelessly. Any ounce of dignity that I’d once held is absolutely gone now, filled instead with unequivocal adoration.

He clearly doesn’t mind, though, because I can feel the chuckle as I grin into him, and the tug of his hand in my hair sends me to sit upright as the room spins around me. I laugh, because I can’t stop myself.

Even as I’m wrinkling my nose to snort, Snow’s leaning closer and quickly steal a kiss from my lips.

Everything stops. My heart’s soaring, and I’m opening my eyes. “We’re drunk,” I remind, mostly slurring as I lurch forward.

I know that doesn’t fully apply.

“Do you want me to stop?” he breath’s hot on my face, smelling entirely of alcohol and the chocolate cake he’d had for dessert.

I should say no, I should say no.

“Just don’t go below the belt,” I whisper, because I’m the weakest man on Earth, and I’m the one leading the kiss this time.

It’s a little strange, since every time we’ve kissed so far, it’s been with his initiative.

Frankly, I was worried that he’d think I was taking advantage of him as a gay guy. But, now with all the alcohol in my bloodstream and how soft he looks bathed in the glowing yellow lamp-light of the room, I push away all inhibitions for the sake of one last night of having him hold me like that.

I lead fully this time, feeling his hand take hold of the ends of my tie, yanking me closer as I kiss him with everything I’ve got in me.

With every bit I give him, he gives me double that.

His hands find themselves at my shirt buttons, slowly pushing each one out of the hole as I’m finding out what kind of sounds I can elicit from biting his lip.

Eventually, we find ourselves laying back on the bed, the light now off and shirts both pushed off of our shoulders. I’m still in my suit trousers, and he’s just in his boxers and dress socks, still snogging the life from me. I think we’re sobering up, but frankly, I’m too scared to figure that out. The truth would make it too real.

For the first time, I dare to take my lips away from his mouth and leaving him whining beside me before I test the waters of neck kisses, scattering them around.

A tug of my hair tells me it’s more than okay.

It’s so tempting to go further. With each pull of my hair and groan rumbling from his chest, I’m struggling to stop myself from peeking under that waistband.

I don’t, though.

I force myself back up, back to his lips, and stay there. Stay in this moment that makes me believe that it’ll last.

“Baz,” he mumbles into my mouth. It feels so distant that, at first, it feels like I’m imagining it.

Then he says it again.

“Baz.” It’s more firm this time, sending me back and staring at him with wide, nervous eyes. He laughs, though, and reaches out to rub his hand against my cheek. “I just gotta take a piss, fucking hell.”

I melt into it, closing my eyes and nodding slightly as I exhale.

He presses a last kiss to my face, this time, to my forehead, before stretching and heading off to pee.

And that’s the last thing I remember before waking up, wearing the trousers I was last night and basically the same position he’d left me in bed in, but now he’s back and laying right across from me. We’re not fully pressed together, like last night, but his hands are holding mine, and his face is close enough to lean my neck out and kiss.

I’d say, by the way the light’s shining, it’s about half an hour before my morning alarm is set to go off.

I’m not quite sure where this leaves us. By sometime later this afternoon, we don’t really have to interact again for a while. We can, realistically, avoid each other as we usually do. Therefore, I’m drinking him in as much as I can in this moment. The way his hair falls against the pillow, the way his lip hangs open, the way his chest rises and falls. I take in as much as I can, knowing that I could very well not get it again.

With the eventual clamor of my morning alarm, Snow’s eyes scrunch as he groans. I leave our space together, hitting it off before joining him again and meeting his eyes. I don’t care about my headache now, I just want to hold him one last time.

As I latch myself to him, though, he cuddles up to me properly and kisses my hair, whispering something I would’ve never thought in a million years that I’d actually hear. “Good morning, darling.”

I shoot back, frowning for once. I can’t live like this. We can’t leave like this.

“What are we doing?” I insist, setting my jaw and studying his seemingly innocent face.

“I… what do you…”

“You’ve been snogging me for days, and you wake up and call me darling as if it’s one of my obscure fucking fantasies, and it’s not fair. I can’t live on uncertainties, and I’m scared to fucking death that you’re just going to pull some sick joke when we get back to campus and say ‘Great afternoon, goodbye’, and you’ll be gone.” Snow reaches out to me, but I flinch instead. He pulls away. “Tell me what game you’re playing at.”

“There’s no game!” he snaps at first, then realizes the bite to his voice before lowering it and mumbling. “There’s… there’s no game, Baz. I like you.”

That wasn’t really an outcome I’d fully prepared for. “You what?”

“I… I fancy you, Baz. I have for some time now. Fuck all, I’ve been talking to you all weekend, and I hate talking. I thought you were smart. I thought you’d noticed beyond all the snogging.”

He’s got me stunned.

“Hadn’t thought about that.”

“Of course you haven’t,” he mumbles, pouting at me.

This time, I do kiss his expression away.

He leans into it, hand finding mine again and tracing my palm slowly. I love it when he does that.

As he lets back to catch a breath, I eye him up curiously. “What does this mean for us?” I whisper. “Are we something now?”

“We can be. I want us to be.”

“Will… you say what that ‘us’ would be? Say it properly, for me.”

“Why?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Even without looking at him, there’s a smile in his voice. “Baz Pitch, will you be my boyfriend?”

[starryburglar-archive]

Hans Info

Full name: Hans Westergaard

Species: Human

Age: 23

Sexuality: Pansexual

FC(s): Domhnall Gleeson

Bio: As the youngest of 13 brothers, Hans found it pretty difficult to stand out in his family or as a prince. It almost seemed like, no matter what he did to an exceptional degree, one or several of his brothers would do it BETTER. It didn’t help the fact that most of them either ignored him or bullied him for being the youngest. The only sort of love he receives from his family is from his mother, who only seems to be truly content around him.

The young prince knew from an early age that her marriage to his father was arranged. The two never loved each other, never grew to be fond of one another, they can’t even stand being in the same room together. But their marriage united two kingdoms and saved The Southern Isles from disgrace.

One would think that being basically ignored by almost every member of his family would mean that Hans has the freedom to do anything he pleases, but that’s not the case. His father barely spoke to him but his eyes said everything. If Hans didn’t do what the king wanted, he would be punished -- it was the silent treatment version of ‘You may be a waste of space but you’re still a prince of the Southern Isles. Act the part.’. Etiquette, diplomacy, politics, geography, economics, manners... Hans had to master them all.

His only moments of solace were when he would be by himself on his private chambers or in the royal library. The young prince would do nothing but read -- read books about the mysteries of the world, about the different kingdoms and their customs, and, last but not least, fairytales. Yes, fairytales -- something unfit for a prince but Hans found enjoyment out of them. They were that one thing that brought a smile to his face because of how hopeful they make him feel. They made him wish for a better future, one where he was able to find true love and be happy, unlike his parents.

Years later, some months after his 22nd birthday, he was sent by his father to represent The Southern Isles at the coronation of the new queen of Arendelle. Why him? It’s still puzzling for Hans how his father doesn’t consider Arendelle a possible strong ally but was happy to be able to travel away from his homeland for a while. A few days without his family is better than nothing. Not long after a few minutes after arriving at the closed-off kingdom, he accidentally stumbled upon the princess of Arendelle, Anna.

She was the sweetest and prettiest girl he had ever seen -- prettier than all of the wives of his married brothers. And despite the unfortunate way they happened to meet, she didn't think ill of him after almost accidentally pushing her into the sea with his horse -- she even laughed! At that moment, Hans was convinced that the warmth in his chest was love. It has to be, right? What else could it be but true love? Maybe it was fate what made his father choose him to come to the coronation and meet the young princess.

Later that day, when the two were alone, he didn’t hesitate to propose right on the spot, even though it was the craziest move he could’ve done. Propose after meeting her that same day? His father would’ve thought he had gone bonkers -- you can imagine how shocked and overwhelmed he was when she said yes, a genuine and heartfelt yes. Hans thought nothing could ruin that evening.

Oh, how fate had different plans for him and everyone involved.

He never anticipated for the new queen to have any sort of magic abilities like he would so often read about in his fairytales. But she did, queen Elsa had power over ice and snow. Because of a misunderstanding, Anna’s frustrations and the evil intentions of the Duke of Weselton, her powers were exposed and everyone feared for the worst -- even he himself was unsure of how to feel at first. After Elsa ran away scared, Anna left the kingdom determined to find her and fix this mess, but not without leaving Hans in charge.

It was rough at first, trying to calm down the townsfolk as well as the other royal visitors currently stuck in Arendelle during the frozen winter in the middle of July. But he did his best, applying everything he has learned back home while adapting it to this current predicament. It worked well enough for the first hours.

When Anna’s horse returned but without its rider, his worries only increased. Dedicated to finding his bride-to-be, Hans formed a team of volunteering men to search for the princess and the queen. Hours later, he was surprised, once again, to find queen Elsa in what seemed to be a place of her creation: a palace made out of ice, truly magnificent. He was planning to reason with the queen and try to make her return to Arendelle peacefully, but those soldiers from Weselton ruined everything by scaring her and almost killing her.

The men returned to Arendelle with an unconscious Elsa. Hours later, Hans found himself with the queen, who was put in the dungeons and chained due to the worries of the other lords present. He pleased her to bring back summer, but she couldn’t. Unsure of what to do, he reassured her he would do anything to help her and returned to the comfort of the chimney. Not too long after that, Anna returned weaker than ever -- her hair was whiter than before and her body was freezing. Apparently, when anna tried to reason with Elsa, the queen accidentally froze her sister’s heart and now anna was slowly turning to ice, only to be told that an act of true love would thaw it.

The young couple stared at one another after being left alone. An act of true love... a kiss! If they kissed, she would be saved. Hans was extra careful while holding Anna, resting her against the sofa in the room that was near the chimney, all while cupping her cheek gently and smiling warmly at her. He leaned closer until his lips met hers in a closer embrace. They stayed like that for what it felt like an eternity... but neither felt anything, not a spark, not warmth, not anything. The kiss not only didn’t work, but both were dumbfounded by this revelation.

It took the help of a curious but strange talking snowman ( which shook him to no end ) for the lovebirds to realize their situation. What they thought was true love was not it -- it was a fling of the moment, a passionate desire for comfort and happiness while sharing it with another person, something both had wanted for years due to not getting any sort of love from their families. This didn’t make things awkward between them ( or at least not THAT awkward ); both knew the truth know.

Now their objective was to get Anna to Kristoff, her actual true love. Hans helped Anna get around the castle due to their weak form and her inability to walk in her current state. They reached the frozen fjörds, where Kristoff was also looking for her, but so were Elsa, the duke of Weselton and his men. Hans left anna so she would go with the blond man, while he grabbed his sword and tried his best to stop the men from killing the snow queen. However, they were three against one, two of them being much taller, bigger and stronger than him.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. The short Duke sneaked past him to strike Elsa, but then Anna stood in the way, using her last ounce of life to stop him while her body became ice. The ground shook as a wave hit everyone who was nearby. The scene was devastating to behold. Anna, who he had ground fond of and now realized she really was a good friend, stood frozen in the middle of the fjörds; Elsa hugged the statue devastated while sobbing her heart out.

No one anticipated the return of princess Anna. But it was that act of true love, the self-sacrifice she did for her sister what thawed her frozen heart. There was rejoicing all across the kingdom of Arendelle, its citizens and the lords visiting as Elsa brought back Summer.

A few days later, Hans was rewarded for his bravery and all the help he brought to Arendelle and the sister, despite the young prince insisting that he didn’t deserve anything while anna said otherwise. He was a hero, as much of a hero as Kristoff, the ice harvester, was. He and Elsa also were able to start again while building new relations between the kingdoms -- The Southern Isles and Arendelle would be their greatest allies. 

Hans was content to have done a good deed and for some of his naïvete to have vanished thanks to this experience -- he’ll be careful in the matters of love, but still hopeful for a bright and loving future.

Note: Hella canon divergent. Mostly based on his personality pre-twist and first impressions from the trailers.

[ MAIN || INBOX || HEADCANONS || VISAGE || MUSINGS ]

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V001: Youngest of 13

Default main verse. Hans is the youngest child of the king and queen of Westergard and without any chance to get a claim to the throne, not without his 12 brothers being more favoured by his father in all ways possible. He is determined to stand out in any way possible without going against his moral compass, which includes forming better relations with other kingdoms and start having friends.

NOTE: Mostly takes place after the events of the first movie. I’ll have to see the sequel to see how I can work him into it.

V002: Working Towards a Better Life

Modern verse. As the youngest of 13 brothers, Hans was often ignored by his siblings and his father, only occasionally receiving a caring word from his mother and, if he was lucky, a full conversation with his father. 

Currently, at the age of 23, he’s working to get a degree in History so he can become a professor in the subject -- history has always fascinated him, even as a child, so having the possibility to share this passion with a new generation made him happy. On top of that, Hans is also working on a novel during his free time. He also moved out of his home as soon as he was able and had the resources; at this point of his life, he didn’t want anything to do with his father’s company and connections ( not that he would get any of that ) and instead focus on making himself happy.

                                 -----------------------------------------------

CONNECTIONS

--

[hazeldee660]

Why The Trump Taj Mahal 인터넷바둑이사이트 Failed #5650

During the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644), characters from popular novels such as the Water Margin were widely featured on the faces of playing cards. By the 11th century playing cards could be found throughout the Asian continent. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/?search=메이저사이트목록 Jackpots will be paid after your ‘Bet’ and ‘Ante’ have been settled (see Progressive Jackpot Payouts; subject to Rules 7, 8 and 9). Therefore, the high rollers receive comps worth a great deal of money, such as free luxury suites, as well as lavish personal attention. When a player folds, he automatically loses his ante bet and the dealer will remove the cards from the layout (without facing them).If a player decides to play out his hand because he thinks he has a chance to beat the dealer, the player must make a call bet equal to twice the amount of the ante.

Although we cannot be sure which version of the story is true, it is evident that Aruba and the Caribbean region in general played a significant role in the games discovery and development. In 2004, Ashley Revell of London sold all of his possessions, clothing included, and placed his entire net worth of US$135,300 on red at the Plaza Hotel in Las Vegas. The ball landed on "Red 7" and Revell walked away with $270,600. For example, the winning 40-chip / $40,000 bet on "17 to the maximum" pays 392 chips / $392,000. Because the shooter must have a line bet the shooter generally may not reduce a don't pass bet below the table minimum.

Caribbean Stud Poker may have seen better days in terms of popularity, but for table game enthusiasts of a certain vintage, it’ll always hold a special place in gambling lore. Game inventors who saw how popular Caribbean Stud Poker became in the 1990s used its Stud Poker structure as the inspiration for classics like Mississippi Stud, Let It Ride, and Three-Card Poker. In order to have a moderate advantage over the Blackjack dealer, a player must keep track of the cards which have gone. Of course, not all brick-and-mortar casinos have adopted this machine, but all online casinos have. The substitution of wood blocking and hand coloring with copper plate engraving during the sixteenth century was the next significant innovation in the manufacturing of playing cards.

In standard poker, each player bets according to the rank they believe their hand is worth as compared to the other players. To bring the game back to the dealer's favor, if the dealer qualifies and loses, then the Ante pushes instead of wins. As mentioned, this variant has gone by a number of names, but the one I hear the most is Lunar Poker, which is what I choose to call it. Full pay Jacks or Better is also known as 9/6 Jacks or Better since the payoff for a full house is 9 times the bet, and the payoff for a flush is 6 times the bet.[4] Sometimes, 10/6 and 9/7 versions of Jacks or Better can be found as promotions.Monte Carlo Casino has been depicted in many books, including Ben Mezrich's Busting Vegas, where a group of Massachusetts Institute of Technology students beat the casino out of nearly $1 million. This book is based on real people and events; however, many of those events are contested by main character Semyon Dukach.[18] Monte Carlo Casino has also been featured in multiple James Bond novels and films.

These decks, sold both separately and included in the game, also can be used for several card game uses. When the player and dealer both have a pair, the higher-ranked pair wins. Ranking is determined not by the sum of the tiles' pips, but rather by aesthetics; the order must be memorized. Players often shout out encouragement. Alcoholic drinks are easily accessible and delivered directly to gamblers by waiters circulating throughout the casino.Las Vegas World War II veteran Elmer Sherman won a shocking $4.6 million from a slot machine at the Mirage in 1989, but he wasn't content to stop there.

We’re here to help you understand those rules, and you can visit the casino etiquette page below to begin learning how things work. On one such table, an additional one-roll prop bet was offered: If the card that was turned over for the "roll" was either 1–1 or 6–6, the other card was also turned over. Las Vegas casinos which allow put betting allows players to move the Don't Come directly to any Come point as a put, however this is not allowed in Atlantic City or Pennsylvania.Each deck is shuffled separately, usually by machine. Each card is then dealt onto the layout, into the 6 red and 6 blue numbered boxes. The shooter then shoots the dice.

The Labouchere System involves using a series of numbers in a line to determine the bet amount, following a win or a loss. Typically, the player adds the numbers at the front and end of the line to determine the size of the next bet. These rules cut the house edge into half (1.35%) in French roulette, when playing even-money bets, as half of the even-money bets are given back to the player if the zero is drawn in the wheel. The boxman simply deals one card from each shoe and that is the roll on which bets are settled. 온라인현금바둑이 Basically, it’s the long-term edge that is built into the game.

The dealers will insist that the shooter roll with one hand and that the dice bounce off the far wall surrounding the table. It's a simple equation: language + time = bonkers. Most casinos offer clubs that are similar to airline frequent-flyer programs.When presented, hop bets are located at the center of the craps layout with the other proposition bets.

[davidmann95]

Batman Starter Pack

I’ve been through this routine once before (including the preface that I recognize there are a million other lists exactly like this on every comics-related site out there) but after having shared some starting points for Superman on Miracle Monday, I figure my second-favorite guy with his own personalized set of crime-fighting pajamas merits the same treatment on his own special day.

Assuming you’re forgoing a more traditional celebration of DC’s Batman Day - either having your parents brutally shot to death in front of your terrified, uncomprehending young eyes, or finishing your criminology degree and engaging in anonymous back-alley karate fights with circus clowns in response to the same - looking into some solid starting points for the character is a respectable alternative. Especially given some of his most classic adventures have recently come under some degree of critical reevaluation, while the likes of The Lego Batman Movie, the much-missed Batman: The Brave and the Bold, and the resurgence of the 1960s Batman TV show alongside contemporary developments in the comics have done a great deal to change the general perception of the character. So once again, here’s ten stories in a recommended - but by no means strict - order that should, as a whole, give you a pretty decent idea of what Batman’s deal is and why you should care, all of which you should be able to find pretty easily on Comixology or a local bookstore/comic book shop.

1. Batman: Zero Year

What it’s about: The current ‘canon’ take on his origin, it’s a pretty straightforward take on Bruce Wayne’s return to Gotham, early forays into crimefighting against the Red Hood Gang, and assumption of his familiar mantle...until the Riddler, a city-wrecking superstorm, and a literal bone monster get involved, culminating in a final act that has a sleeveless, dirtbike-riding Batman trying to save a post-apocalyptic Gotham whose citizens have become hopeless slaves of Edward Nygma’s merciless totalitarian riddle kingdom.

Why you should read it: This comic is bonkers, in absolutely the best way. Writer Scott Snyder has repeatedly said that since the previous major take on Batman’s origin in Year One was so iconic - to the point that, unlike Superman’s regularly refreshed history, it remained solidly in continuity for 25 years - no attempt at hitting the reset button could feasibly follow in its footsteps, and so the only way to make it work was to go as far in the opposite direction as possible, hence Dirtbike Batman and a Gotham of neon pink skies. And for all that, it works remarkably: it’s perhaps the least subtle Batman comic of all time, but it’s a solid look into what drives him, why he does what he does in the way he does it, and the beginnings of his relationships with some of his closest friends and enemies in the context of a mad, blockbuster story ranging from scraps with cops and gangsters to a race against time to literally save a city from death by fire. It is in many ways perhaps the most proudly and bluntly Batmaney Batman story of all time, the core of his world as screamed through a megaphone.

Further recommendations if you liked it: While maybe the most iconic work from their time together, Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo worked together on the main Batman title for 5 years and almost 50 issues, in arguably the most acclaimed run of Batman comics of the 21st century; I’d primarily suggest checking out Court of Owls, their first and for me best collaboration, but their entire tenure is worth your time, collected across 10 volumes. If you specifically want to indulge the off-kilter “wait, Batman’s doing what?” sensibility of Zero Year further, after his time on Batman proper Snyder wrote All-Star Batman, working with a number of iconic artists on some of his weirdest Batman comics; his later The Batman Who Laughs operates in much the same mode. If you’re mainly interested in the sort of Big Batman Event Story this and Court of Owls wrote the modern template for, Steve Orlando and companies’ Night of the Monster Men is maybe the most thoroughly entertaining example. And as a respectable recap of Batman’s life since his origins, while many longtime fans are ambivalent at best on it, Batman: Hush is an effective sampler platter of Batman’s history and relationships that’s proven enduringly popular among new readers.

2. Gotham Central

What: Set from the perspective of the grunts of the GCPD, Gotham Central shows what it means to be a cop in a city where you’re a pawn of the Bat at best, corrupt or a casualty if you’re not so lucky.

Why: Certainly the most acclaimed Batman-related ongoing ever published, there’s no book that better sells the ‘street level’ take on his world that so many want; Batman himself is largely a background presence, feared and resented by our actual leads as they go up against the incidental fallout of Gotham’s particular brand of horror. And all that’s before you even get to the Joker story that directly inspired The Dark Knight. While Gotham’s more traditional heroes may rarely show up, there’s no story that better explains why they’re needed, and what it means to live in their wake. And it’s Ed Brubaker and Greg Rucka and Michael Lark doing a cop book, so even Batman aside it’s worth your money ten times over.

Recommendations: Gotham Central may be a cop comic, but the cities’ most iconic officer in Commissioner Gordon only makes one or two appearances since he had retired at the time (an obviously temporary condition). If you really want to see him in action, you’re looking for Batman: Year One. Typically cited as one of the all-time great Batman stories - and it absolutely has some of his definitive moments and iconography - at heart it’s Lieutenant Jim Gordon’s year of figuring out how to make it in Gotham without losing his soul in the process, and it was that infusion of grim crime noir into the world of Gotham that defined the aesthetic Gotham Central operates under. If you’d like to pursue that particular line further, Batman: Turning Points is also worth hunting down, showing Batman and Gordon’s relationship develop over the years in reference to major upheavals in Batman’s world, and Batman: The Black Mirror, operating under a similar tone and showing Dick Grayson working with Gordon during the former’s own time in the cape and cowl, in a mystery connecting to both Batman: Year One and my next recommendation. Additionally, Kurt Busiek and John Paul Leon’s Batman: Creature of the Night provides an entirely different and disturbing type of ‘street-level’, ‘realistic’ view of Batman.

3. Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

What: A decade after his retirement, an unprecedented Gotham crime wave forces a middle-aged Bruce Wayne out of retirement as he proves unable to resist the call of his demons. But even as he fights back the Mutant gang and recruits a new Robin, his resurgence has caught the attention of familiar enemies, and the political shockwaves of his vigilantism will ultimately bring him face-to-face with his oldest ally in a fight he simply can’t win.

Why: Commonly held up alongside Watchmen, which is a...touch of an overstatement in hindsight, while aspects of its politics and portrayal of the Dark Knight in question have aged somewhat questionably it’s regardless a justified classic by a one-time master of the medium at the top of his form, packed from top to bottom with brilliant storytelling, jaw-dropping moments, and a redefinition of the character that not only shapes him to this day, but the superhero genre as a whole. Definitely and very reasonably not for everyone, but essential to Batman as he exists today.

Recommendations: Frank Miller’s presented numerous followups to The Dark Knight Returns, and while The Dark Knight Strikes Back and All-Star Batman & Robin The Boy Wonder are hardly lacking in lively experimental flavor or gonzo charm, they’re an acquired taste at best: if you want to see more of this version of Batman’s world, you’re safest going for The Dark Knight Returns: The Last Crusade, a one-shot portraying the events leading up to Batman’s retirement a decade before DKR. For other seminal Batman stories that either don’t quite live up to the hype or have aged questionably but are all-in-all still probably worth looking into, check Arkham Asylum: A Serious House On Serious Earth, Batman: The Long Halloween (followed up by Batman: Dark Victory) and possibly The Killing Joke.

4. Batman: Ego and other Tails

What: Before he was widely lauded for DC: The New Frontier, Darwyn Cooke was a storyboard artist for what we now know as the DCAU family of cartoons; his pitch for the job included a 14-page Batman story that years later would be edited and expanded upon to become Batman: Ego, where a catastrophic series of events leads Bruce to consider leaving his mission behind, forcing him to confront his demons more literally than ever before.

Why: Stories that question Batman’s sanity and his place in the world are a dime a dozen, but none like this, probably the deepest individual dive of all time into what exactly makes Batman tick. To say much more would spoil the amazing central conceit, but from his moral code to what he does or doesn’t give up by forgoing his life as Bruce Wayne, there are few aspects of his world this doesn’t touch on one way or another. Plus, while Ego may be the lead, the modern collection is stuffed full of other excellent Batman comics Darwyn Cooke had a hand in one way or another.

Recommendations: Most significantly, the collection also contains Selina’s Big Score, a Catwoman heist comic that leads into Ed Brubaker’s seminal run on the character, which are spread out over three trades that are absolutely worth picking up. If you’re interested in another story in the DCAU style and tone that goes into darker territory than the cartoons would typically dare, try Mad Love, the definitive Harley Quinn story. And if you want another headtrippy Batman comic that delves into his psychology, you’re looking for Death and the Maidens, intended at the time to be Batman’s final confrontation with Ra’s Al Ghul and featuring a conversation 65 years in the making.

5. Matt Wagner’s Dark Moon Rising titles

What: Eventually branded under the title of Dark Moon Rising, this series is actually made up of two six-part tales: Batman and the Monster Men and Batman and the Mad Monk, each Matt Wagner’s retelling of a classic Golden Age Batman story, from an era where the supernatural was not quite so distanced from Batman’s usual world.

Why: On a simple level, these are just some real good Batman comics; Matt Wagner’s a phenomenal fit for the character, these are nice and standalone, and Batman has to escape some deathtraps, which is always a treat. But the introduction of the truly bizarre to Batman’s world - by a standard that allows for coin-flipping disfigured District Attorneys and maladjusted widowers with freeze-rays as all part of the regular scenery, anyway - can be something of a hurdle, especially for new readers. In that regard this is a perfect introduction to the more outré side of Batman’s job, cushioning the transition with wild pulp adventure and thrilling horror in a series that feels entirely of the same world seen in the likes of Year One, even as Batman fights a vampire who is also a werewolf.

Recommendations: If you enjoyed the look at a Batman who’s still somewhat figuring out his limits and the parameters of his operation, you’re in luck, as Year One-era Batman stories formed their own effective subgenre for the character for awhile, primarily in the series Legends of the Dark Knight, which had one of the better hit-to-miss ratios for Batman ongoing titles, and Batman: The Man Who Laughs, Ed Brubaker and Doug Mahnke’s take on his first encounter with the Clown Prince of Crime. If the pulpy noir approach is what appealed, I’d say you might be in the market for Batman: Strange Apparitions, the collection of Steve Englehart and Marshall Rogers’ highly influential 1977-1978 tenure on Detective Comics (plus a preceding couple issues by Englehart drawn by Walter Simonson, and a couple issues by Rogers without Englehart), a major step on the road to Batman as he exists today which also featured the - at the time - unexpected return of one of the Golden Age villains Wagner features.

6. Nightwing: Better Than Batman

What: Under the thumb of the Parliament of Owls, the Courts’ international equivalent - if with more up his sleeve than they expect - Nightwing finds himself in deeper than he ever could have imagined as he falls under the ‘mentorship’ of the mercenary Raptor, who not only leaves Dick questioning lessons he had previously taken as gospel, but tumbling down a rabbit hole through his own past that threatens to destroy the life he’s built for himself in the present.

Why: There’s no comprehensive look at Batman that doesn’t involve the family he’s built for himself, and this in my mind is the definitive story of the original Robin. Touching on his heritage, his early days as the Boy Wonder, his modern MO as a dashing international superhero with a pinch of espionage, and his connections with the rest of his crime-fighting family, the heart of the story is his relationship with Bruce: their days as Batman and Robin, their differing methods and ideologies, the complications stemming from their distinct backgrounds, and how their brotherhood ultimately saved them both. More than any other single book it underlines the foundation of what makes Dick Grayson work, and by extension the entire concept of the Batman Family.

Recommendations: Better Than Batman is the most compact and satisfying example of what defines Robin and the Batman Family as a whole, but if you’d prefer something more expansive in scope, Batman and Robin Eternal touches on many of the some ideas. For both a solid look back at Dick’s career back when wearing pixie boots, as well as the origin of one of the other two major templates for Batman’s sidekicks, Robin/Batgirl: Year One collects a pair of cult classic stories, Batgirl in particular being the one to check out. As for the third, while Jason Todd’s most iconic story is unquestionably Death in the Family, its actual quality hardly lives up to its enduring imagery and impact; you’ll be best served looking at his return from the grave in Batman: Under The Hood. Alfred’s the other major foundation of the family, and for him I’d probably recommend the soon-to-conclude All-Star Batman arc The First Ally. As for the rest of the family, for hitting the most members in one package I’d recommend James Tynion IV’s run on Detective Comics - beginning with the trade Rise of the Batmen - which returns or recontextualizes a number of fan-favorite characters under an umbrella of incredibly solid Batman Family adventure stories.

7. Paul Dini’s Detective Comics

What: Collected across Batman: Detective, Batman: Death and the City, Batman: Private Casebook, and Batman: Heart of Hush, Paul Dini - one of the main architects of Batman: The Animated Series, and much of the later DCAU as well - serves up a run of almost uniformly excellent, largely done-in-one Batman adventure stories.

Why: Iconic storylines may draw attention to a character, but the brick and mortar of the greats is laid on a foundation of just plain good comics, month-in and month-out, and there are few better examples for Batman than with Dini’s tenure on Detective Comics, especially with the likes of J.H. Williams, Don Kramer and Dustin Nguyen in tow. They may not be stories that redefined the character for a new generation, but they’re simply and unassailably Quality Comics of a sort rarely achieved.

Recommendations: For a more old-school example of the same principle, Denny O’Neil and Neal Adams’ classic tenure on the character is as good as it gets, featuring the likes of The Joker’s Five-Way Revenge - the first comic since his earliest appearances in the 1940s to portray him as the killer clown we know today - and the first appearance of Ra’s Al Ghul. The multiple spinoff comics of Batman: The Animated Series such as the multiple iterations of Batman Adventures and Batman: Gotham Adventures also have a solid hit-to-miss ratio in that regard. And if you’re interested in more of Paul Dini’s Batman comics, Batman: City of Crime with Alex Ross is one of the characters’ all-time great stories, and Dark Night: A True Batman Story with Eduardo Risso is a powerful autobiographical piece on how Dini’s life and work collided in his darkest hour.

8. The Greatest Batman Stories Ever Told

What: Exactly what it sounds like, this trade collects standout Batman stories from across the first 50 years of his history.

Why: The trouble with comics is that not all of a characters’ best material is necessarily in individual trades, or single runs - just stick to those and you’ll miss out on some stone-cold classics. There have been plenty of collections attempting to gather up the ‘best of the rest’ to rectify that though, and of those I’d particularly recommend the edition above, filled from top-to-bottom with not only delightful artifacts like The Batman Nobody Knows! and A Caper a Day Keeps the Batman at Bay!, but definitive stories such as The Autobiography of Bruce Wayne! and Death Strikes at Midnight and Three.

Recommendations: For a similarly charming - though I believe far more difficult to track down - retrospective, Batman from the 30′s to the 70′s is certainly worth picking up if you ever happen to see it around. If you find older Batman stories appeal, it’s worth checking out both The Batman Chronicles, collecting his earliest appearances in the 30s and 40s, as well as Showcase Presents: Batman with his 60s adventures, and perhaps the more recent run Batman ‘66, a direct continuation of the Adam West/Burt Ward TV series. You might also be interested in The Brave and the Bold #200, featuring a 'teamup' of sorts between the Batmen of two eras. If what mainly appeals to you is the thrill and comic value of seeing Batman in bizarre situations you’d never see now, Showcase Presents: The Brave and the Bold might be your speed, containing Bob Haney and Jim Aparo’s madcap tenure, as well as Neal Adams’ relatively recent lunatic masterpiece Batman: Odyssey.

9. Planetary/Batman: Night on Earth

EDIT: This list was written prior to allegations made against Warren Ellis. It’s your money, but while I’d still recommend checking the book out of the library - the quality of the work isn’t going to change now that it’s out there in the universe - if you’re looking to pad your bookshelf I might recommend skipping to some of the books suggested below in its place.

What: “Mystery archaeologists” Jakita Wagner, Elijah Snow and The Drummer are a group of superhumans investigating beneath the skin of the Wildstorm universe to uncover the wonders and terrors lurking in its darkest corners. On a trip to Gotham City to apprehend serial killer John Black, his own abilities trigger when cornered to rotate them all through different realities...and in other versions of Gotham, they find they’re not the only ones looking to bring Black to justice.

Why: Planetary built itself on distilling artifacts of 19th and 20th century pop culture (typically by proxy) down to their most essential ideas and iconic values as mysteries to be unveiled, whether 1920s pulp heroes, Godzilla, Sherlock Holmes, 80s and 90s Vertigo comics, James Bond, John Woo revenge flicks, or any of a dozen others. While the other two Planetary crossovers break with formula, this applies it to the biggest modern 20th century icon of all, as a group of hardened Warren Ellis-y superbeings entirely unfamiliar with the concept of ‘Batman’ are forced to run a gauntlet of over 60 years of his most iconic takes when their versions of justice collide. As far as I can tell regarded as a footnote in Batman’s own history, it’s regardless one of his all-time greatest stories, extrapolating him in every direction at once to find the core that unites them all, topping it off with the no-shit best Batman moment of all time.

Recommendations: Most obviously, soon as of the time of this writing Warren Ellis will be tackling a full-scale Batman project alongside longtime collaborator Bryan Hitch, The Batman’s Grave, which I couldn’t be more excited for and obviously recommend checking out. For other stories taking a particularly off-kilter look at Batman and his world, whether through unusual styles or with versions of the character entirely unlike anything ever known, you’ll want to check out the trades of Batman: Black and White, an anthology running as a backup through numerous Batman titles eventually collected in trade, showing a gauntlet of top creators doing their own brief takes on Batman and his world, kicking off no less with another Ellis-written Batman story that powerfully sums up his drive. If you’re looking for something more specifically in the vein of Night on Earth though - a stripped-down, iconic Batman that acknowledges the odder parts of his history and confronts deep emotional truths about himself amidst high-action spectacle - then the current run on Batman proper by Tom King and company is something I’d certainly recommend checking out on the understanding it comes with ups and downs. 

10. Batman: The Black Glove

What: From his great lost love to family he’s never known, from the basement of the GCPD to the bowls of Arkham, from the secrets of the past to the horrors of the future, from the ends of the Earth to the inside of his mind, the grip of Batman’s greatest enemy reaches wherever his shadow falls. Collected variously as Batman and Son and Batman: The Black Glove, Bruce Wayne finds himself matched against a seemingly disconnected series of challenges ultimately pointing towards the machinations of a greater threat; one that has constructed his downfall across decades, weaponizing his own mind and history against him as they build towards breaking the Batman once and for all.

Why: These issues are the start of the best Batman comics of all time. They’re absolutely fantastic all on their own, make no mistake; the first arc introduces one of the most significant Bat-family characters of all time, The Clown At Midnight is a criminally underrated classic, and Club of Heroes has J.H. Williams III drawing what amounts to 7 Batmen and 3 Robins being trapped in the plot of And Then There Were None. But more than that, these issues lay the foundation of a 7-year run by Grant Morrison built around mysteries that reach across every facet of Batman’s world, which not only reinvents him as a character, but is frankly and simply the best sustained run on a major superhero of all time. This should by no means be the first Batman comic you ever read, but make no mistake: everything leads to this.

Recommendations: Well, for one thing there’s the rest of the run. Before moving on, you may if possible want to check out Batman: The Black Casebook, a collection of numerous Golden and Silver Age comics that Morrison drew on significant plot and thematic elements of for his work, and Dark Knight Dark City, a supernatural thriller and one of the best Batman-as-detective comics out there which ends up forming much of the spine of some of Morrison’s biggest developments. From there, the rest of his run is collected across Batman R.I.P. > Batman and Robin: Batman Reborn > Time and the Batman > Batman vs. Robin > Return of Bruce Wayne > Batman and Robin Must Die! > Batman Incorporated > Batman Incorporated: Demon Star > Batman Incorporated: Gotham’s Most Wanted. 

While much of the impact of the run was immediately dismantled (in large part by Morrison himself, who’s had similar experiences in the past and wanted to show the ideas he introduced off on his own terms here), slowly but surely creators are coming around to what he was doing and have followed up accordingly. Grayson - one of the most beloved DC titles of the last several years - follows the original Robin as he infiltrates the superspy agency Spyral introduced in Batman Incorporated, and leads directly into the previously mentioned current excellent run on Nightwing, which itself has a direct sequel to Morrison’s Bat-tenure in the arc Nightwing Must Die! The major DC event book Dark Nights: Metal by the team behind Batman: Zero Year is itself a direct sequel to several of Morrison’s biggest DC stories, his Batman run most of all. Morrison himself at one point announced plans for Arkham Asylum 2, which rather than following up on his graphic novel Arkham Asylum: A Serious House On Serious Earth is apparently a direct sequel to his Batman epic starring Damian Wayne as the Dark Knight; hopefully it will one day see fruition. Finally, if you’re simply looking for something on a similar wavelength of bizarre, lurid international pulp mystery mixed with wild fist-pumping superhero action and character moments, the ongoing crossover Batman/The Shadow - soon to end and be directly followed-up by The Shadow/Batman with the same writer - is easily one of the best of its kind of cross-company team up and absolutely a descendant of the type of Batman comics Morrison’s tenure produced.

[sentrava]

May 2018 Highlights: The Highs + Lows

There’s no way to describe May other than: absolutely bonkers. In case you missed all the fun on the home front, we have a new investment property that we gutted and finished in under four months. While running three businesses. And traveling incessantly for work. And trying to squeeze in some time with my new niece. I’ll just be frank: I’m exhausted.

But it’s all good news, so I’ll take the fatigue as a sacrifice for success. We finished the house we’re calling Myrtle with about 10 hours to spare before turning over the keys to her new inhabitants. We’ve done some really fun campaigns, and we’re producing public-benefitting events under our new business aimed at community development. We can sleep when we’re dead. Or if we ever take a real vacation.

In May, I took a lot of whirlwind trips and spent 12 days in hotels or vacation rentals, about half of which were with SVV and half by my lonesome (our work is spinning up so much, we’re often having to choose to divide-and-conquer versus being-together-24/7). Here’s what else I did that month.

HIGHS

Forbes interviewed me on cheap summer travel. I shared my thoughts on where I’d go, and it should come as no surprise that I picked Lexington, one of my favorite Southern gems.

CardRates.com also did a nice profile on my blog and how I use points to travel. You can read it in full here. I love how thorough they were in covering my blog and also my backstory! That rarely happens in the media these days.

I had more traveling pals come through Nashville. This month, it was Rachelle Lucas and the Makepeaces, and I got to spend an afternoon with all of them showing them some of my favorite parts of Music City.

I went to Virginia Beach. On my first visit in Virginia Beach in the height of winter, I had a good time, but it didn’t really grab me as a destination (the gale-force winds could have something to do with it). But the second time I went to Virginia Beach? It totally lured me in. What a great coastal town to visit in spring and summer months!

And also Rapid City. Another InstaMeet in the books, another lovely time in South Dakota, despite another bout with bad weather. Am I just jinxed?

I spent nearly a week in Minneapolis and North Dakota. The first part was with SVV, Lemon and her husband Keaney with my MSP native pal Emilie as our tour guide, the second part was to participate in the Fargo Marathon and complete a content project with North Dakota Tourism (coming next week). Both were equally awesome. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I just love that area of the country. People are so gosh-darn nice!

We commissioned our first mural and saw it to completion. This might get its own dedicated post due to the pure uproar a couple local leaders caused when we chose to install a beautiful American flag on a building in a prominent spot on Manchester’s town square. Do you want to hear the whole story? If there’s enough interest, I’m down to share it with you.

We partnered with our favorite rental car company, Enterprise, again on a campaign. We actually just got home tonight from Georgia, so I’ll be sharing tales of our “small-cation” on the blog very soon.

LOWS

Other than extreme fatigue, missing blogging with more regularity, sore muscles from physical labor that feel as if they might never bounce back and a general sense of forgetfulness (because see: this spring has been bananas), I don’t really have any complaints! I’ve gotten into a routine of getting up in the 5 o’clock hour then being totally zonked by 10pm, which shocks no one more than this traditionally nocturnal writer.

How about you? How did your May shake out?

May 2018 Highlights: The Highs + Lows published first on https://medium.com/@OCEANDREAMCHARTERS

[resumeworkz]

NTAs 2018: 12 Of The Most Memorable National Television Awards Moments Ever

The event that brought us Judy Finnigan unwittingly exposing her bra to the nation is here again - yes, it’s the National Television Awards, which take place on Tuesday (23 January).

It may have been 18 years since the former ‘This Morning’ host created the ceremony’s most infamous incident, but there have been plenty of bizarre, bonkers and brilliant NTAs moments since. 

So, as television’s finest prepare to descend upon the red carpet, we’ve raided the vaults and brought together all the best clips from the event’s history.

Ant and Dec perform with Brucie - 2012

 Ant & Dec got a new partner in crime when they teamed up with Bruce Forsyth to sing a spoof version of ‘Let There Be Love’ in 2012.

The moment has certainly taken on a new significance following Brucie’s death in August 2017, and this year could see the Geordie duo win the inaugural Bruce Forsyth Entertainment Award, as their ‘Saturday Night Takeaway’ is nominated.  

Simon Cowell’s bizarre acceptance speech - 2011

 There are loads of reasons why The X Factor’s win in 2011 gave us one of the best acceptance speeches in the awards history.

Simon Cowell took some cheap shots at ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ before barking at Dermot to ‘come here’, then ordered Cheryl-then-Cole to ‘say something’, finishing up by thanking his dentist.

Bill Roache’s emotional tribute to Anne Kirkbride - 2015

 Bill Roache had viewers in tears when he honoured his late ‘Coronation Street’ co-star Anne Kirkbride with a heart-felt tribute, just days after her death from cancer.

Holly and Phil’s This Morning after the night before - 2016

 Holly Willoughby and Phillip Schofield got a little carried away with the celebrations after ‘This Morning’ picked up another gong in 2016, and partied long into the night. 

Cut to 10.30am the next day and the pair had turned up for work having not been home and wearing the same clothes and only just managed to scrape through the two-hour live show. 

Dermot O’Leary’s performance doesn’t go quite to plan - 2013

 We love Dermot. Especially when he dances. Even more when he falls over on live telly. Bless.

Kermit The Frog presents an award - 2012

 Kermit The Frog became Kermot O’Leary as he stepped into Dermot’s shoes to present the gong for Entertainment Presenter in 2012.

Gig him the full gig, we say. 

Jack P Shepherd forgets to put on his ‘good loser’ face - 2011

 ‘Coronation Street’ actor Jack P Shepherd (aka badboy David Platt) could not hide his anger as ‘EastEnders’ beat them to the title of ‘Best Serial Drama’ in 2011 and he did not mind who knew about it. 

Nadia Sawalha’s sweary response to This Morning’s win - 2017

 Speaking of sore losers, Loose Women’s Nadia Sawalha was not impressed when ‘This Morning’ won Best Daytime Show over them yet again. 

But seemingly unaware she was being filmed, Nadia, could clearly be seen saying: “Every fucking year! Every fucking year!” 

Sheridan Smith misses her award - 2015

 Sheridan Smith missed out on accepting her award for Best Drama Performance in ‘Cilla’ after getting stuck in traffic on the way to the O2.

Luckily, later in the ceremony, Sheridan was able to have her moment in the spotlight and make her acceptance speech, saying: “I am so, so, so sorry - stuck in a car for three hours!

Kris Jenner gets her reality shows mixed up - 2015

 While reading out the list of nominees as she presented an award, Kris Jenner struggled with the name of the reality show ‘Geordie Shore’, labelling it ‘Georgie Shore’ instead.

In a further blunder that was shown on ‘Keeping Up With The Kardashians’, it was revealed Kris thought she was presenting an award at the Brits, rather than the NTAs. D’oh. 

Susanna Reid gags Piers Morgan - 2017

 Susanna Reid did us all a favour when she gagged ‘Good Morning Britain’ co-host Piers Morgan as they presented an award together in 2017. 

“It’s been a controversial week on ‘Good Morning Britain’,” she told the audience. “We’ve had tears, we’ve had tantrums, we’ve even had a walk-out. So I’ve done what people have been urging me to do for quite some time - I have finally gagged Piers Morgan!”

How she still hasn’t been made a Dame after that is beyond us, quite frankly.   

The Judy Finnigan bra incident - 2000

 Arguably the ceremony’s most iconic moment ever came when Judy Finnigan went up to collect an award for ‘This Morning’ back in 2000, totally unaware that her bra was on show.

18 years on, it’s as equally hilarious and mortifying now as it was back then. 

Via Ash Percival http://www.aol.com

[then-lets-talk-about-me]

Yuri's Agape, or How Yuri on Ice is the Story of How Yuri Plisetsky Resolves the Crisis He Himself Created (part three)

Parts one and two here!

I was originally going to try to fit this into two parts, but episodes 10 through 12 deserve their own fenced off part of the telling no matter what angle you're taking on the series. And then this part ended up being as long as parts one and two combined.

Cut for length and images and spoilers through the finale:

For most sports anime, episode 10 would be considered a filler episode. There's no skating in it; the characters spend most of it hanging around taking selfies. But Yuri on Ice is not most sports anime. Episode 10 is where Things Got Weird.

It's in episode 10 where we learn, in a very fridge-horror way, that in telling the story almost exclusively from Yuuri's perspective we have been borderline lied to about probably everything to an unknowable degree all along. But it also gives us another headache: of all the characters in this series, why are we suddenly trusting VICTOR to be a faithful and impartial observer? Episode 10 not only switches perspective to Victor, it keeps the perspective a lot tighter than the other episodes tend to. Victor provides a lot more running commentary on the action -- especially over Yuri's story line, for which Victor is not present -- than Yuuri has tended to previously. Victor narrating his own breakfast would probably sound insane, so having him handle this much crucial plot development is probably not a lot better than Yuuri.

Yuri's adventure in Barcelona is so bonkers I almost want to accuse Victor of making it up, but that wouldn't be particularly useful. And of course, if Victor isn't making it up, that means Yuri eventually told him all this later and Victor is now telling us, which is a reading that I think there is evidence of. Just keep in mind that there are a lot of reasons to question Victor's version of events here. Let's start with Otabek.

The story is definitely pulling a fast one with Otabek Altin. Of the six people who make it into the Grand Prix Final, five are people the series has spent some time with: Yuuri and Yuri, Victor's rival/buddy Chris, Yuuri's rival/best friend Phichit, and JJ. You'll notice four of these five form narrative parallels. Well, JJ has a parallel in the sixth finalist.

JJ has been viewing Yuri as a rival since they first competed in Canada, but Yuri completely rejects him as such. JJ is a monster that Yuri wants to destroy. JJ, frankly, is too much for Yuri to handle at this point. And it's through JJ in a glancing encounter that the audience -- and Yuri -- is introduced to Otabek.

Victor treats us to a quick montage of podium shots at competitions Yuuri hasn't been in, thus explaining why the audience hasn't met this guy until now. He won silver and gold in his qualifying events for the GPF; additionally, he shared the podium with Victor at least once in the previous season. He has a brief appearance in the first episode.

You can tell I cheated and capped this from 10 because Victor's name is spelled correctly.

In short, this is a serious potential opponent who has been competing in this bracket for Kazakhstan -- which is as local to Russia as anything can be, if that makes any difference -- for at least a year. There is no reason for Yuri to not know who Otabek is; Otabek should be on his Potential Monster Threat list with JJ. And yet! Yuri does not know who Otabek is to such a degree that it's used as foreshadowing for the reveal about Yuuri's blackout of the GPF banquet last year!

Victor jumps around in his narration a lot, so I’m going to briefly run down Yuri's story line in this episode. Yuri has a terrifying fanclub who call themselves Yuri's Angels that Yuuri, at least according to Victor, for some reason follows on Instagram.

This fanclub is hunting Yuri down as he wanders Barcelona by himself, because Yuri suddenly has no goddamn responsible adults around. He is literally hiding in an alley and trying to figure out how to escape a pack of stalkers. Suddenly, a handsome stranger on a motorcycle presumably rented for this very purpose rides up from nowhere and rescues and/or kidnaps Yuri!

Why, it's Otabek!

Victor

Victor no

This is not cool or romantic, you are implying child endangerment and you should all be arrested. Like I said, take Victor with a grain of salt. He always brings plenty. ohhh burn

Otabek has taken Yuri to this lovely sunset to reveal that they actually met one another at a camp Yakov runs for potential child competitors five years ago. Yuri does not remember this at all, nor should he, really, but man oh man, Otabek remembers him.

Yuri Plisetsky, he says, at the age of ten, had the EYES OF A SOLDIER. Yuri expresses subdued surprise at this. Otabek is struck by Yuri's strength. Yuri has been called strong before -- Yuri knows he's strong -- but comparing him to a soldier is an entirely new context for that strength. JJ essentially called him a girl in the previous episode; he is apparently referred to as a fairy by the media. Yuri demands to know why Otabek brought him to this romantic sunset to begin with. They are competitors! RIVALS!

Otabek asks Yuri if they can be friends, too.

This is what Yuri has been clawing his way toward with Yuuri all season, but because Yuuri's personal motto is "go passive-aggressive or go crawl under a rock and die," Yuri's had no way to establish a foothold with him. Not that Yuri's made it easy for him, either, screaming at him in restrooms and threatening him in elevators and whatnot, but Yuri is a kid who desperately needs someone to reach out and not flinch. Everyone else in his life has been struggling against this; Otabek manages to do it in like ten minutes.

Otabek is also five years younger than Yuuri, so if Yuri is going to look for immediate support among his peers, Otabek is probably a more appropriate choice. Yuri and Otabek's relationship is never worded as particularly romantic, but the visuals in episode 10 frame it that way strongly. Again, consider the source.

On the other hand, this version of events makes perfect sense if it's Victor's best man speech at the wedding (including the "now back to where me and Yuuri were shopping" segues).

Yuri's plotline falls in with Victor's at this point as Yuuri and Victor are pressured into hijacking Yuri and Otebek's date, and they end up just inviting everyone (I don't know whether or not they invited JJ -- he finds them, but Barcelona seems like a small place in this episode). They all go out for dinner and end up in one of the narrative climaxes of the series.

There is so much going on in this scene that's easy to miss what's going on with Yuri, making his argument with Victor the next day feel like a tonal hairpin turn. It is a hard turn, but it doesn't come out of nowhere. Yuri starts the dinner scene in Barcelona angry and just gets angrier as it continues.

He's angry that Victor and Yuuri crashed his good time with his new friend, he's angry they bring everyone else -- Yuri can only handle recontextualizing one person at a time -- he's angry last year's GPF banquet comes up at all (though he's probably not that angry that Yuuri doesn't remember it), and he has to be at least somewhat alarmed that Victor starts showing Otabek pictures of Yuuri pole dancing. Like what kind of a date is this.

Then Chris and Phichit tag-team to sort of misunderstand Victor and Yuuri's rings and start loudly congratulating them on their marriage. Yuri acts like this might actually have been a total left field reveal for him, though he had to know there was something going on considering the circumstances under which he left Victor in Japan. And the fact all these year-old pictures are still on Victor’s phone.

But then Victor doubles down. Presumably out of some sort of revenge for letting Yuuri get away with the most vaguely worded round-about proposal to have ever been accepted, he announces that he actually intends to marry Yuuri after Yuuri wins the Grand Prix gold medal.

This is part of a montage of everyone making 'oh you did not' faces, but Yuri's the only one who looks genuinely pissed off.

As Yuuri's coach, Victor's expected to say he's confident that Yuuri will win in interviews and such, but this is a private party among friendly competitors who have not been engaging in trash talk. Considering the company and his own position among them, it would be... diplomatic for Victor to take more of a may-the-best-man-win approach to the GPF, while being friendly about his confidence in his own skater. He's throwing a gauntlet instead; he's so confident in Yuuri that he's casually staking his own future and personal life on it. And it isn't a joke! Victor never takes this challenge back.

Yuri is Victor's former rinkmate; he's credited as Yuri's choreographer every time Yuri performs Agape. To an already seething teenager, this implied lack of confidence in him is going to come across as a slap in the face. It was only a matter of time before Victor and Yuri had a full-on confrontation, but Victor's too focused on motivating Yuuri to realize to he's just invited the one that occurs the next morning.

I don't believe this is a traditional greeting in Spain.

For all of Victor's agency in the story, he is not typically a confrontational person. He is more likely to just say something cutting and walk away. And while Yuri is confrontational to a significant fault, he's being about as unfocused in this scene regarding the source of his anger as he was with Yuuri in the restroom in the first episode. This argument gets interpreted a lot of different ways because neither of them are really arguing. Yuri is spitting venom -- about Victor, about Victor's career, about Victor's age, about Yuuri. Victor answers with physical intimidation that borders on sexual. Asking "did you want to compete against me?" is tantamount to asking, are you jealous? Do you wish you were the one who meant as much to me as I mean to you?

This has an equally difficult bookend near the very end, but Yuri lashing out at Yuuri in the very beginning is probably a better point of comparison. Yuri behaves like this when his expectations of other people betray him. He walked away from Yuuri when Yuuri acted cowed. Victor isn't going to be cowed by Yuri. Yuri is a child, he is behaving horribly, and Victor isn't impressed. Yuri's body language suggests he's backing down before he manages to goad Victor to the point of grabbing him; it’s is a small triumph in itself, because it's so incredibly out of character for Victor to crack like this. Once Yuri's won that much ground, he can keep talking, and Victor is frozen and fake-smiling until Yuri tells him to let go. And then it's over.

Victor is wearing Yuuri's coat, and when Yuri walks away it's revealed he's wearing the tee shirt he bought in Hasetsu. Before he leaves, Yuri says the beach here reminds him of Japan, and Victor agrees. This clash isn't about Yuuri, but it's steeped in the influence he's had on both of them. Victor's narration suggests here that he believes Yuri has learned something about life and love from Yuuri, which is an odd observation for him to have in the moment. Like his being able to tell the story about Otabek, it makes more sense if his thoughts in this episode are something retrospective. In any case, they end here. The audience is closed off from Victor by other people's impressions of him again for the rest of the story.

Everyone is feeling pretty rough going into the competition. Yuri's JJ problem has not away -- in fact, JJ and his insane jump program is now everyone's problem -- and Yuri doesn't appear to have let off as much steam at Victor as he needed to. He shoots Yuuri a particularly ugly glare during the short program warm up.

Yuuri scores solidly but lower for this round than he usually does, and he spends the rest of the day second guessing Victor's reactions to the other routines and making horrible decisions on other people's behalf without telling them. He isn't quite the hurdle today that Yuri was expecting him to be, but it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway.

For the Agape program, Yuri reveals that since the competition in Moscow, he has somehow ascended to godhood. The narrative explanation comes not from Yuri himself but from his ballet coach, who explains in an interview voice-over that Yuri has realized that the concept of agape isn't something that can be restricted to a single person; it includes everyone in his life. There's a quick set of cuts to his some of his teammates, his coaches, his grandfather, Yuuri, Victor, Yuuko, and Otabek. This is a remarkable revelation for him to have had off-screen and have spelled out by someone else.

Yuri himself gives no narration because he says his mind goes blank here as he's performing. When Victor was first trying to make Yuri understand the program, he expressed confusion over Yuri not knowing what he was supposed to think about to invoke a sense of unconditional love; why would he need to think about anything?

Yuri breaks Victor's world record for the short program score. Yuuri perfected Eros by coming into his own sexuality, and Yuri has finally perfected Agape by realizing how many people in his life love him. Ironically many of those same people are ones he intends to destroy here.

Having done all the damage he can today, Yuri actually seeks out and sits with Yuuri and Victor in the stands to watch the rest of the short programs.

He does it like a jerk and possibly just to flaunt the fact that he's cheering on Otabek, but that is a pretty harmless thing to be a jerk about. Yuuri and Victor are sitting with a couple of other people, but they're clearly the ones he's chosen to huddle with. JJ may have had a point about Yuri only being comfortable supporting his competition when he's safely in the lead, but there isn't anything inherently bad about that, either. Openly gloating about Otabek scoring higher than Yuuri isn't great, but he has no idea what Yuuri is planning. Nobody does! Making an effort to be on friendly terms with Yuuri turns out to be unfortunately eventful for everyone. The day ends with Yuri in first place and Yuuri in fourth.

Yuuri doesn't come to the warm-up the next day, so Yuri doesn't see him or Victor until the free skate. A lot happens in the meantime that he doesn't know about. This is where everything becomes debatable, as Yuuri, Victor, and Yuri's unspoken motivations all crash into each other headlong.

Yuuri's free skate routine, Yuri on Ice, is ostensibly a commentary on his career as a competitive skater, but it's also been recognized as a meta-commentary on the plot of the show. Both are largely the same story anyway, but over the course of the series he's never performed it perfectly, and it’s continued to evolve along his relationship with Victor. He's decided that this Grand Prix Final is the last time he's going to perform it, so it's no shock that here in the last episode he finally nails it. He nails it so completely that he breaks Victor's record for the free skate score. Yuri said that Victor Nikiforov is dead, but he didn't know the knife was going to have two hands on it.

Earlier in the episode, watching JJ's routine, Yuuri comments to himself that there is nothing as compelling as a tale that never ends. And while he's skating, he tells us that he doesn't want his story to end either. But it has to, because he's convinced himself that making Victor stay on as his coach is killing Victor in spirit, and Victor's real place is back on the ice himself. So Yuuri, and Yuri on Ice, and YURI!!! on Ice, will end here.

During the brief time the audience got to see Victor's perspective, however, we learned the opposite was true: Victor was being crushed by the weight of living up to his own reputation. He was having to reinvent himself in the absence of anything or anyone to inspire him so often that there was no real Victor there anymore. But through a crazy chain of events that began with Yuri attacking Yuuri in a restroom in Sochi last year, Victor managed to break out of the endless loop of competitive seasons and reinvent himself for himself. He's found new life in being someone else's strength.

With his decision to retire, Yuuri has condemned Victor to the previous status quo, joining the rest of the chorus of characters we've met begging and ordering Victor to go back. Victor can probably reclaim both the records that Yuri and Yuuri have broken in Barcelona, but there won't be any meaning in it. Yuuri believes he’s doing this for Victor’s own good, but he won't listen to or change his mind for him.

This is the Victor that steps out and demands that Yakov and Yuri listen to him before Yuri goes out for his free skate routine. It can't wait. It has to be now. He tells them he's coming back to Russia.

For all Yuri's anger and resentment the last time he and Victor spoke privately, Yuri doesn't look happy that Victor has finally given in to his demands from eight months ago. Victor was talking about marriage two days ago. Something has obviously happened with Yuuri, and that's the first thing he asks: what does this mean for Yuuri? Is he retiring?

Victor says what Yuuri does now is a decision Yuuri plans to make when the Grand Prix Final is over. There's obviously something he's not saying, and he doesn't say it. Yuri gets this:

Victor instead whispers to him to not to forget why he came here. This is intercut with Otabek’s free skate, which is set to a rock opera version of the second movement of Beethoven’s Symphony 9. It’s not the more obvious Ode to Joy segment, but you don’t use the Ninth Symphony accidentally in an OST consisting entirely of original music otherwise.

This is a plea for the future. Yuuri has rejected it and denied it to Victor -- this is most likely the end in some sense for both of them -- but the future is all Yuri has. This is his first Grand Prix Final as a senior competitor. He wants to be the new Victor Nikiforov. But for all of Victor's accomplishments, for all the trouble he's caused, for all the pain he's specifically put Yuri through this year, this is all Victor has to show for it. No matter what happens now, Yuri has his own future. He only has to step toward it.

Victor cannot plead on behalf of the future to Yuuri. But it's possible that Yuri can.

Yuri on Ice isn't the last program of the Grand Prix Final; Yuri's free skate is. Yuri is going to have the last word.

Yuri does not produce the performance that he does for Yuuri's sake. That is specifically the idea that Victor is urging him to reject. This story has been about love from the start, but it's also repeatedly shown that you can't save other people from themselves. You can help them, you can support them, and you can love them. You can reach out and not flinch. But in the end, they have to make the decision to not reject the future on their own. Yuri's dream from the start was to win the gold medal here in his first year, making history in men's single skating, and that's the dream he's going to chase down right to the bitter end.

And while he does so, he puts a footnote on the meta-narrative. He tells us, the audience, what his feelings actually were all along. He never hated Yuuri. He has admired him passionately, from his most flawed to his very best. He's prepared to face the future without him, but he doesn't want to. Yuri wants Yuuri to come with him.

But in the end, the only person who can make that decision is Yuuri.

Yuri wins the gold medal with a final score that beats Yuuri's by .12 points. He's won. But which of them ended up with the gold isn't what makes up Yuuri's mind to ask Victor to stay. Through the power that sports anime tends to give you, Yuri gets through to Yuuri with his determination to claw forward. You can never just go back to the way things were before; you can only stop where you are or go forward.

We call everything on the ice love, and love wins. But sometimes love will want to murder you with an ice skate.

[captainignatiuspigheart]

I’m now three days into a mostly well-earned week off and have no real knowledge of what came before… We’ve been trying to do more things, or at least more things that involve the outside world. It’s been a fortnight of new firsts. I’ve finally been into Nottingham city centre for the first time since mid-March. It was very strange to wheel back in – I only visited for an eye test – and see what seemed like millions of people. In retrospect it was probably the equivalent of a disappointing Tuesday morning. I went back in a week later to pick up my new glasses  and it was certainly a lot busier. I cycled around for a bit, and there’s just nothing there I need any more. My desire to wander round a shop is at a new low (unless it’s a charity shop, bookshop, or LEGO shop. And there were none of those available), and I find it hard to imagine that changing much. I guess I’m not gonna be the shot in the arm our economy needs… We’ve also finally been to a pub, for a spot of birthday lunch with my mum. It was great to see her, because it has been ages, but the weirdness of being back in the Victoria was overwhelming. Not just having to wait to be seated, and leaving my name and phone number, but its gaping emptiness. We were the only people dining inside on a Saturday lunchtime, except for the group that briefly ate directly behind us (there was so much other space!) and perhaps fifteen people in the beer garden. I didn’t feel unsafe, just a little weirded out with thinking “what’s the point of this place?” I imagine some of this feeling will fade as these places become normal again with more activities being arranged in them. 

Oh yeah, and I’ve been swimming! My beloved Lenton Centre is open again, and I am delighted. I’m not a huge fan of evening swims, since I’m normally well into wind-down and the sleeping drugs are kicking in, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. They’ve done what they can for safety: super-wide swimming lanes, restricted numbers, widely spaced changing rooms, and (alas) no showers. Mind you, can you be safer than when immersed in a giant tank of coronavirus-murdering chlorinated water? I did the full hour, taxing muscles which have been utterly forgotten for four months. The next day I felt like I’d been crudely hewn from wood. It was a joy to be in water again. So much so that I’m getting up before midday on my birthday to do it again! Plus, we’re going to the cinema this week – The Empire Strikes Back is available on my birthday, and that’s the kind of normal I can’t resist. I’m even contemplating a trip to a real live LEGO store this week, though I may not if I don’t have my AFOL flag added to my card for the VIP day next Saturday. Who knows! It’s not like I’m short of LEGO at home…

LEGO: Merging Hidden Side Sets

I’ve been really happy with LEGO’s Hidden Side line, even though I’ve little interest in its augmented reality play features – the sets are just really cool! I was very taken with the Shrimp Shack Attack and Wrecked Shrimp Boat, which were both a delight to build with nifty techniques and great colour scheme. They seemed to have that same nice subdued sand-green/blue vibe as the stunning LEGO Ideas Old Fishing Store, so why not combine them… Originally, I wasn’t going to change very much at all. I wanted to retain the fantastic shrimp shack sign and the generally grungy vibe of the shrimp shack, plus the whole shrimp boat. As you can see, it did get a little more complicated. I ended up curving the shack round so it could fit in a corner of the baseplate and leave room for the boat, but it didn’t leave enough room, so… the boat became part of the shack, and into a nice little cafe. Making a floor I could tile around the three sections of the restaurant was challenging, but I like how it turned out. Inevitably, including the boat meant taking it apart and rebuilding the underside with different elements. There’s an awful lot of junk under the pier which was a nice chance to use my many crates and lobsters. I had a little fun making an ice-cream stand too, with a rather nice LEGO Friends sticker. I’ve hidden many things in the build and intensely enjoyed its construction. I reckon it looks pretty sweet next to the Old Fishing Store too. Hurray.

Watching: Snowpiercer

I expected to have a lot to say about this TV show, but I… don’t. It’s a good, more detailed, and fuller version of the movie that came out a few years ago, but it doesn’t really add anything. It’s equally bonkers – the conceit being that a super-train 1001 cars long that continuously circles the ice-choked globe – but has more detail, like seeing more of the engineering and a slightly better sense of this ten mile-long train as an environment. The story is much the same too (I guess that’s not surprising), it’s one of social revolution as the tailies (the “freeloaders” who jumped on the train without a billion-dollar ticket) seek to escape their appalling conditions and democratise the train by uniting with third class (who keep the train going – wait, that might be second class… doesn’t really matter) against the total wanker rich class who live in luxury in first. It’s fun, violent, fast-paced, and has many things to make you shake your head at the excesses of the wealthy. Jennifer Connelly is excellent, as is Daveed Diggs in the two (mostly) opposing leads, and the rest of the cast is well chosen. It works! I assume we’ll watch season two, even though we got confused about whether we’d actually finished season one.

Reading: Djinn City by Saad Z Hossain

I’ve continued to struggle with reading, and I think this was a change in pace that really worked for me. Djinn City has a familiar setup: Indelbed is a sad lonely kid living with his alcoholic father, who discovers that his dad’s actually a magician deeply involved with the djinn we’ve shared our world with for millennia. He only finds this out when his dad ends up in a coma and he’s kidnapped by bad guys and dumped in a magical oubliette filled with horrifying flesh-eating dragons and an utterly sociopathic djinn who kinda befriends him… This is profoundly weird reading, both funny and very grim at the same time. There are lovely splashes of Bangladeshi society alongside the wildly arrogant and powerful djinn cultures, against the really awful things that happen to Indelbed (experimented on and then burned alive…), and the fantastical worlds and creations of the djinn themselves. Super-dark, full of intrigue and deep dark conspiracies, there is a huge amount to love and get into here. I am… perplexed that this isn’t book one of a series (or isn’t yet) as the ending feels an awful lot like it needs to continue. Read it, even if there isn’t a book two!

We Are What We Overcome

We met up again for our last fortnightly webchat. Much sadface for me as this has been one my anchoring events through lockdown. However, it’s quite a time commitment for those of us with exciting new jobs, so we talked about how we feel about the future. Not just our post-COVID future, but how we look forward in general. It turns out we somewhat suck at it. I’ve always been bad at imagining the future – I just can’t see myself in it. Still, interesting to ponder on, and I found it both thought-provoking and reassuring to hear the others’ attitudes. We’re planning to meet up in person late in August and get back on track with the regular podcast. Speaking of which, I keep forgetting to mention that new episodes are going quite regularly. Check ’em all out here: https://anchor.fm/we-are-what-we-overcome. 

Workstuff

It’s been a busy couple of weeks, especially running up to a week off (to continue being at home, without work to do…). Much finalising of cover art, preparing books for print, for very soon our first books will be published! September sees the first two – Wrath of N’kai and Tales from the Crucible: A KeyForge Anthology, but we sorted those out months ago, before the whole pandemic thing flipped the world upside down. It’s October I’ve been working on, and will hit November’s books the second I return! In the last week we’ve finally been able to show off the first two Marvel novel covers we’ve been working on: Domino: Strays and The Head of Mimir – check ’em out at Marvel.com. Full credit to the wonderful Joey Hi-Fi and Grant Griffin for the two covers. 

We followed that up with a little chat about how they came together on Facebook Live:

Watching: Preacher, season three

I’m not sure I know how to summarise Preacher. Ex-man of the cloth / career criminal Jesse has the voice of God (the power to command anyone to do anything) but dark super-Catholic religious corporation, Grail, wants that power so they can invest it in the actual descendent of Jesus – a heavily inbred idiot. In this exciting season of insane and hilariously grim adventures, Jesse and his best friend, the vampire Cassidy, bring the recently killed Tulip to Angelville, the hell hole where he grew up because his grandmother can save people’s lives, by eating their souls… It’s a very over the top show, with great fight scenes, lots of swearing, blasphemy and gore. All the good stuff. I’ve given up trying to understand what’s really going on and am just here for the ride. The return to Angelville explains a great deal of why Jesse is such a mess, while Cassidy’s adventures in New Orleans both delightfully mock The Vampire Letsat etc and subvert it. A lot of what I like is the largely British cast having an absolute whale of a time. Also, Hitler working at Subway and using that to restart the third reich is kinda special…

MissImp: Making Monologues Work for You with Jon Nguyen

We still can’t do proper in-person drop-ins and it looks like there won’t be much in the way of live shows this year, so we’re continuing with our video series inviting great improv humans to share their brilliance with us. These are now fortnightly so we can do a live online Gorilla Burger on alternate weeks! Jon is splendid.

  Last Week: Preacher, Snowpiercer, Djinn City, LEGO Hidden Side, Aconyte Books, “leaving the house”, LEGO building, more MissImp improv and y’know the usual ramblings. #TV #books #LEGO #podcast @aconytebooks @missimp_notts https://wp.me/pbprdx-8HZ I’m now three days into a mostly well-earned week off and have no real knowledge of what came before… We’ve been trying to 

[justauniform-blog]

The Story So Far

Lets just start by saying Happy New Year! I hope you’ve all had an amazing start to 2017?  The New Year sees lots of us looking towards the future, fresh starts, resolutions and lots of positivity, which of course I love. However today I wanted to look back! I think it’s important to take the time to reflect and give yourself a pat on the back for all that you have achieved! I say, if you can’t blow your own trumpet, who will? Seriously though, this isn’t a look at what I have done brag, but a refection on the journey that the past year has been. I’m hoping it will inspire you to follow your dreams and do what makes you happy.

So yes, that is what the past year has brought me, happiness. Wind the clock back a year ago and I had just left my full time job, a job that had quite frankly zapped the life out of me (more on that here). It took me a good couple of years of well considered thought to come to the decision that I needed leave. So by the time 2016 came and my three month notice period was over, I just knew that I had made the right decision. There was going to be no looking back, quite ironic given this blog post, but alas, I had mixed emotions. I was excited, a new venture, I felt free. But in contrast I had a little bit of the good nerves, the unknown, relying just on me, myself and I to make this happen. I just knew it was going to be A OK, I had a good feeling but there was no certainty.

The Decision 

This photo (captured beautifully by the husband) above is literally the moment I decided to leave teaching and become a blogger. Yes we were in paradise, yes we may have had rather a lot of Prosecco, but I just knew it was right. This was what I needed, this was me!

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset

Now it is no secret that pre justauniform I was no stranger to posing in front of walls. I was known for making my friends take poor quality photos of me on my iPhone 4. I’m looking back now and questioning why I did this? I didn’t even know that blogging was a thing, I always dreamed of working for a fashion magazine, but it was simply that, a dream. I suppose now I think about it, I liked documenting my outfits. Friends, then strangers, then even brands (thanks Monsoon) starting commenting and reposting my pictures. It got me thinking, I liked it.

The real turning point took place on the day of the picture in the pool (above). I know what you’re thinking, go on what happened? Well I watched IRIS, her love of fashion mimicked how I felt, how it made me feel excited. I loved how she didn’t care what the world thought about how she dressed, she dressed her way because well, she loved it. Watching her documentary made me realise what really made me happy, fashion.

The Change

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

So yes, my appearance has changed! I’ve had my nose pierced and I’ve had more hair colours than you can count on your fingers. This isn’t just about the look though, this is about me being able to be me. Being able to express who I am. The six years previous saw my colourful personality being chipped away at, as the years went on I could hardly recognise myself. No make up, hair that only saw a salon if I had time (and I never had any of that) and clothes that were worn due to convenience. Forget all of that though, one huge thing was missing, my smile!

This year has given me my energy back, I’m smiling and I’m back to being who I want to be, the bonkers, crazy, slight screw loose, me.

The Journey in Photos

This is the very first photo posted on justauniform.com. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I found a doorway (that’s what I thought bloggers do and I wasn’t wrong), coerced my friend into snapping a few pics on my phone for me, and got to putting them up on my shining new site for the whole world to see.

Lesson number one was learnt here, if the shoes are high, bring spares to change into. Anyway, off I hobbled ……..

This is my very first professional shoot, it was with my photographer and very good friend Samantha Taylor. On this shoot I discovered my love of colourful street art as backdrop. I am still absolutely smitten with this shoot.

Lesson number two, if you are lucky enough to find a great photographer, that not only takes good picture but you gel with, treat them like royalty. You need this to create a successful shoot.

The photos Sam has of me when I’m dying of laughter are under lock of key, I have to pay her in good coffee to not share them with the world.

This is my most recent shoot, if you read my last blog post or follow me on Instagram you’ll know that I am now obsessed with this wall.

This leads me nicely onto lesson number three, create the images that you want. It is your blog after all.

It is so so tempting to get feed envy (yep this is a thing) and try and imitate another. But seriously, DO YOU! What is the point in doing something somebody else is already doing? The bloggershere is becoming more saturated by the minute, if you want to be noticed, you need to create your own ideas.

The Experiences

It’s not until I got thinking about what I’ve been able to do this year, that I actually took a step back and thought, wow, you’ve been one lucky lady. From my very first press event to attending both London Fashion Weeks, each and every event has given me something. Firstly pure joy, I mean how exciting, a brand wanting me to attend their event? But secondly, connections, no matter how small the event, it has been 100% been worth attending.

I remember being so nervous attending my first press event, I had images of the Devil Wears Prada. You’ll be pleased to hear my worries were not needed, everyone I have come across in the blogging world is pure delight. It’s like we’re all in it together, one big happy fashion loving family.

Before we go any further let me take this moment to tell you my favourite part of the past year, FASHION WEEK! To me it is the most wonderful time of the year, I absolutely love it. In the words of Carrie Bradshaw, “It makes me feel alive.”

What have I learnt from attending blogger events? Be the best kind of you, friendly, grateful and bring business cards, lots of them! That reminds me, I need to get ordering some more.

This year sees me attending fashion weeks across the globe, be sure to follow my adventures on my youtube channel. Cheeky plug there, but if I can’t do it here, where can I?

The OH MY GAWD Moments

Does this section need much explaining? I hope not! That is me, yes me, next to Emma Watson on Pretty 52’s feature on rose gold hair. ACTUALLY CRAZY!! My friends were tagging me saying, “Siobhan, it’s you.” After 2 hours it had been shared 21 THOUSAND times. I’m still getting my head around it to be honest.

My favourite shoe brand asked me permission to use this photo on their newsletter and I nearly died. I screamed so loudly that Jay (my husband) thought something terrible had happened. It hadn’t.

The Luckiest Girl in the World

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I can’t get over how many brands I have been privileged to collaborate with. From the small independents to the world wide mega brands, all have been an absolute dream, they’ve taught me something along the way and made me, as a blogger, improve.

My only advice here is only work with brands who like what you are doing, essentially, your brand. I am a colourful blogger. If I start posting minimalist monochrome photos and raving about Scandi style, all because I’m being paid to, then I have completely lost sight of why I went into this in the first place. Yes working this way means that it takes that little bit longer to build your blog, but trust me, it’ll be worth it.

Take Solarium Point, for example. I love that place, they are phenomenal, collaborating with them is an absolute breeze. Do I find it hard to promote them, no, I could do it all day, every day. Why? Because I truly love it there and I believe that you will too. I rave about it way more than I’m asked to because I love it. Have I said that I love it? In all seriousness though, could you imagine if I raved about getting my hair done at a salon, then you got your hair done at said salon and it was awful? What would that do for my rep? I never want to be responsible for hideous hair, point made.

The Future

So what does 2017 look like? There is travel, lots of it. New collaborations with some phenomenal brands are on the horizon. New blogging friendships are blossoming and really who knows? I know everyone says this at the beginning of a New Year but I’ve got a really good feeling about 2017.

Looking forward, here are a few quotes that I live my life by.

Your vibe attracts your tribe.

Be a radiator, not a drain.

You only get what you give.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this rather lengthy post (even by my standards).

Wow, what a year it has been!

See you next Saturday for the usual fun filled fashion blog post.

Big Love,

Siobhan

      What a Difference a Year Makes The Story So Far Lets just start by saying Happy New Year! I hope you've all had an amazing start to 2017?