#no official list ... these things are always subject to change of course ... and i might have forgotten sumthing ... but good enough

[petitsdieu]

MY FAVOURITE FILMS ... without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favourite films and then tag ten people to do the same.

𝑔𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 … @deficd <3 𝑔𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 ... @crimlune @nightmarefuele @vitalphenomena @eritvita @rejectory @horroreverent @id1eyouth @eviji @elenva @sparedson @kylo-wrecked @mentatemperor ... and you, anyone, steal it.

[matcha-milkies]

Married Life Worldbuilding Lore Drop ♡

❝ Bill has changed the cultural landscape of romance in some pretty sad ways. ❞

I’ve been rambling in my Discord server and wanted to do a lore dump about the post-Bill culture of Dimension 13’\ (the official designation of the Married Life AU). I want everyone to be on the same page, since some server members have expressed wanting to create fan content surrounding this lore!

It's no Chapter 10, but I hope it's fun to read all the same. Big walls of text under the cut:

♡ Despite outward appearances, Bill is terribly insecure about his relationship with Ford (part of the reason he keeps him locked up so tightly).

♡ You can imagine Bill would hate seeing anyone in a relationship happier or healthier than his. He may not even be consciously aware of why looking at happy couples fills him with so much visceral, inexplicable envy anger, but it does.

♡ At first, this might manifest in him favoring the torture of happy couples he comes across in his domain. Singles are more likely to get off scot-free. This is why Bill flesh-sculpted Jonathan and Lucy and then made Ford eat them. They were truly in love and committed to each other, and Bill couldn’t stand the sight of them.

♡ This insecurity in Bill escalates. He needs more control, but he also needs to be Mr. Nice Emperor. He appoints himself the arbiter of romance/marriage. Because he knows best on the subject of course! And he just doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, getting into a relationship they shouldn’t. All non-Bill-sanctioned relationships of a romantic nature are illegal and punishable by neverending torture (which Bill might subject you to anyway, for funsies, but unsanctioned romance is a surefire way to rocket you to the top of the list of candidates, and Bill has an ever-growing number of enforcers and loyalists). But don’t worry, it’s still for your own good! Very 1984 I know. If you’re actually in love, good luck getting that approved.

♡ This leads to one of two major culture shifts:

Either A) 13 adopts a hypersexual culture (much like the Hand of God AU for those familiar, although for very different reasons in this case). Romantic love becomes a sort of nigh unobtainable virtue reserved for God and his beloved, and a select chosen few. People resort to sex to satisfy their need for intimate connection.

OR B) 13 becomes hyper asexual for fear that anything bordering on passion will anger Bill. This however does create a conundrum in the lack of reproduction, at least for species who procreate via sex. Could still work if people still have sex but it’s a very… businesslike transaction and possibly organized/ordered by group leaders. Literally “I only have sex in missionary position for the sole purpose of procreation.”

^ I have not yet fully committed to either of the above routes, though I’m leaning more towards B.

♡ The heart and other romantic symbology such as roses and swans become sacred and divine. (Designs of Married Life Ford from later in the story will feature a red heart tattoo under his left eye).

♡ This monopoly on romance is of course extremely authoritarian, but literally in every other aspect of life, Bill is like “Go nuts, do what you want.” It’s just this one thing in particular that he fixates on and becomes obsessed with controlling.

♡ This also forces people to vicariously enjoy Bill and Ford’s love story, as it becomes one of the only ways the average person can experience romance at all. It tends to create some very obsessive fans. Bill turns their life into a sitcom called “Married Life” and broadcasts it across the dimension as daytime television. Some tweaks and edits are made of course, to make for better TV and not at all to give Bill the most flattering angle possible. However, Bill doesn’t always understand what does or does not register as disturbing to humans, and something is still very obviously wrong with this relationship. Anyone who isn’t a delusional Ciphertologist knows full well what’s going on here, but you should really keep those thoughts about domestic abuse to yourself if you know what’s good for you.

This TV series even makes it beyond Dimension 13’\ as VHS tapes. There are a few lost episodes and a lot of behind-the-scenes trivia that you’d have to dig pretty deep to find.

The sitcom aspect of the lore could honestly be an entire post on its own, and I look forward to developing it further and incorporating it into future chapters as well. It just might be a while before it can come into the story in any significant way, and it is helpful to have this context when understanding the wider culture of 13’\, so I wanted to get the lore out there.

**clicks button that brings us to the final PowerPoint slide which says “Thank you! Any questions?”**

[smileygoth]

1. Christina (Original Character, Month of Darkness 2024)

Here we go again! I have literally no idea how this one is going to go because I haven't seen all the prompts for the month yet! Also a quick disclaimer: this is likely to end up a bit of a mash-up of Original Characters (played in non-canonical games) and canon WoD characters, so please excuse any discrepancies with canon. And that's the last time I'm going to say 'canon'! Hope it makes sense in the end and enjoy!

CW: nothing to worry about this time.

Image is of the fabulous Threnody in Velvet, found on Pinterest.

PS: Christina is MY longest-played OC and if you say bad things about her I will fight you. As her. And don't let her clan fool you - she packs a punch! ;)

PPS: If you enjoy this, the masterlist will be going up on my Contents page!

‘God, I never thought I’d get bored of parties.’

Christina tapped her manicured nails against the rim of the glass she was holding and gazed out of the window at the city beyond. London was lit up like a Christmas tree at night, a myriad of pinprick colours blazing in the darkness, the buildings only vague shadowy shapes behind the lights. It was beautiful – much more so than the sterile, postmodern function room she was standing in, and the amorphous figures in marble and granite the current artist in favour called sculptures.

The man beside her laughed politely. ‘Very funny, Keeper.’

She turned her head far enough to cast him a disdainful glance. ‘I wasn’t joking.’

He looked uncomfortable, and changed the subject with faltering tact. She turned back to the view outside the window, tuning him out. He was one of the many Ventrue who populated the city, probably heading up one of the financial corporations in Westminster. He was probably powerful, important in some way to the Prince, if he’d been invited to this particular gathering. But luckily for her, being Grand Keeper of Elysium for London meant she didn’t have to pretend to listen to him. Eventually he’d figure out she wasn’t listening and he’d go away. Shame – he was rather attractive, and if he’d actually had a smidgeon of personality she might have had a bit if fun with him. But she supposed that a personality wasn’t high on the list of priorities for Ventrue when they chose their childer.

In theory, being Grand Keeper of Elysium was a job that any self-respecting Toreador ought to jump at. And she had, when it was first presented to her. London was such a busy, large and socially important city that one Keeper of Elysium wasn’t enough – it needed several, one to each carefully sectioned-out area. The job of the Grand Keeper was to oversee the other (lesser) Keepers and make sure no one of them stepped on another’s toes. No date clashes for parties, no favouring one Keeper over another for official Court meetings (unless the Prince commanded otherwise, of course), no conflicting interests, no territory grabs, no repeated themes or squabbles over special guests. Fun, right?

No. After the first six months of managing the other Keepers’ diaries, mediating arguments and slapping down terrible ideas, the Keepers had learned how Christina worked and had started falling in line. The Prince of London did not like dissention in the ranks, and so everyone in the Court worked to make sure that – on the surface, at least – everything ran smoothly and everyone got along. So now all Christina really had to do was occasionally liaise with the Keepers to keep an eye on things, and go to the parties they threw.

The many, many parties.

Night after night of socialising, smiling, always looking her best. Night after night of representing the Court. But never was the party her own. No, she didn’t get to throw parties any more. She was far too busy for that. So the socialising was never with people she cared to talk to – never really with people at all, just vampires and ghouls and the occasional other supernatural creature who for whatever reason was invited. The Prince liked to keep alliances with their neighbours – the ones who would even consider such a thing, at least. The music was never to her taste, or the artwork, or venue. She had cycled through her extensive collection of evening dresses and was wearing some for the second or third time, not that anyone had noticed (not that she’d care if they did). She’d gone through so much eyeliner and lipstick in the last couple of years that she ought to have taken out shares in the companies.

And she was so, so bored.

What I wouldn’t give to have a Sabbat attack on this insipid, sterile fucking party, she thought sourly. Hunters to set fire to the building. A bunch of professional thieves picking the wrong group of rich snobs to rob. Anything to shake things up a little!

The Ventrue had wandered off, as she had expected. She sighed heavily and let her focus switch to her own reflection in the mirror. She looked lovely, as always. It’s really come to something when I’d rather be on the sofa at home in jeans and a t shirt, she thought. Watching one of Martyn’s stupid horror movies while he eats his weight in popcorn. She smiled faintly at the thought of her faithful ghoul and what he might be doing with his free evening while she was stuck here. Truth be told, they hardly spent any time together any more.

Another figure loomed in the reflection, another male figure in a sharp suit approaching her from behind. She swallowed a groan and turned to face them with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

‘Good evening, Miss Barr,’ a familiar voice greeted her. She knew who it was before her eyes reached his face.

[miashyperfixations]

THE GOOD WITCH - MAISIE PETERS ALBUM REVEIW

23.06.2023 • Pop/Alternative • 15 songs • 47 minutes • 2023 Gingerbread man records, Warner Music Group

★★★★☆

FAV SINGLE: Run 

TOP 3: Coming Of Age • Wendy • Watch

Maisie Peters is a British singer-songwriter, based in London & originally from West Sussex. Peters emerged into the music industry in 2017, signing to Atlantic Records shortly after, Under which, she released two EPs & other singles as well as writing the soundtrack to the Apple TV+ series ‘Trying’. In 2021, Maisie signed to Gingerbread Man Records, releasing her debut album that same year & now, releasing her sophomore album ‘The Good Witch’.

Something I love about this album is that she doesn’t shy away from production. A lot of emerging pop artists tend to go for an acoustic sound now, recording songs at home in their bedroom or closet with just a laptop & a mic and sending them off for mixing. Whilst Maisie has some of that sound in her songs, they still have complex elements of production & her upbeat pop songs reign above with the layering of all kinds of instruments: drums, synths, vocals, the list goes on. She perfectly combines the two sides of pop music into her discography whilst remaining a lyrical genius. She’s also broken the mould of female pop artists having to re-invent themselves with every album cycle & finding a new sound. In reality, there’s nothing wrong with continuing to produce music of a certain sound, especially if it works for the artist. In my mind, ‘The Good Witch’ is a more mature older sister to Maisie’s debut album ’You signed up for this’.

‘Wendy’ is without a doubt one of the most lyrically beautiful songs I’ve ever heard. The album’s 9th track, written around the concept of Peter & Wendy, is a song about knowing your own worth & choosing the right path (even if it’s not what the heart wants) to avoid becoming invisible & regretting life later on. It shows that wanting to see the best in others isn't always good because you become blind to the truth as it becomes an unreachable reality. Even if you know it’s right, things can still feel wrong in the moment & you have to make the sacrifices that are best for you. In a heartbreaking way, the song is an uplifting ballad about taking control of your own life & not waiting around on people who might not even  be there in the end.

The week after the album was released, on the 30th June 2023, ‘The Good Witch’ debuted at number 1 on the UK’s official album charts which gave Maisie her first ever number one album. Additionally, at 23, Maisie became the youngest British female solo artist to do so in almost 10 years, the record was previously held by Ella Henderson who achieved number 1 with her LP ‘Chapter One’ in 2014 at 18 years old. Maisie’s first album, ’You signed up for this’, peaked at number 2 on the official album chart when it was released in 2021.

Alone, Maisie has built up a large fanbase, having been dubbed one of Taylor Swift’s industry children & thus, attracting hordes of British swifties, but she has also done so through her relationship with Ed Sheeran. Sheeran signed Maisie to his record label 'Gingerbread Man Records’ in 2021 after she burst into the music industry & the two have a very close & public mentor/mentee relationship. A key part of building her fanbase has come from opening for Sheeran’s ‘Mathematics Tour’ for almost all of the UK/EU dates, all Oceania dates & a few of the American dates. As an incentive for ‘The Good Witch’ to reach number 1, Ed claimed over social media that he’d release a fan-favourite demo of hers if the album did so. And true to his word, Ed leaked ‘Girl’s House’ the evening the album charted via a link on his instagram story & fans went mental. 

Overall, I think that I personally prefer Maisie’s first album (as a body of work) but this is subject to change as time goes on of course. She is, without a doubt, one of the next big pop girls on the scene & her neverending talent just solidifies her position in the music industry.

[fizzyxcustard]

Covert Eyes (18)

Prologue| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references, angst, smut, heartbreak, gunshot wounds and recovery.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Amy knows that her recovery won’t be quick, and she now has another decision to face. 

Official soundtrack list:  here

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and Amy was lay in bed on her day off. She had been asked to remain on call over the Christmas period in case important work came in which she would undertake with Tariq. Lucas was working that day, but was hoping that he would be able to slip away early for a cosy night in. 

Lucas left a mug of coffee and some hot buttered toast on the bedside table next to Amy and then kissed her farewell, leaving the flat. 

Amy sighed and took a bite of her toast. She felt content, peaceful and the closest to happy that she had been in years. In fact, she was sure that she was happy. Her relationship with Lucas had gone from strength to strength since being shot back in August, and now that they were working together, it gave them enough time together and apart. Work, currently, wasn’t overbearing. However, she knew that this would soon change. Once she had her initial training under her belt, then she would be given her own working times and be expected to work more independently than she was now. 

The day began quite slow; Amy tottered around the flat, washing dishes, vacuuming, dusting, and then decided to head out to the local hairdressers for a trim. She kept her hair short, but it was now curling up and growing towards her shoulders. Maybe a quick trip to the local artist shop was also in order. She had been so tempted to begin experimenting with coloured pencils and pastels more. 

The sun was setting, dipping below the horizon of buildings as Amy stepped back into the flat. Just as she closed her door behind her, her work phone rang. 

“Hi, Amy,” Tariq chimed. “A big operation is underway. It’s from the Spiller case. Lucas and Jo are needed out in the field. Can you come in? Lucas is coming to pick you up now in time for the brief at half six. Looks like it might be an all-nighter, so bring plenty of food.” 

Amy chuckled. “I’ve always got food in my bag. You should know that by now, mate. I’ll get ready.” 

In the flat and Amy gathered together a fresh set of underwear, basic toiletries and non-perishable food such as chocolate, a tub of Pringles and some Hob Nob biscuits. This case had been on the team’s radar for a good couple of months, and now their main subject, Robert Spiller, was moving. 

Shortly afterwards and Lucas arrived, grabbing his own, already prepared, bag of clothing. Amy noticed that his jaw was clenched and he seemed to be half throwing things, rather than placing them down. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

Lucas sighed. “I wanted a night in with you tonight. Maybe order some food, watch shit TV and do all the normal things, instead of this. Now it’s not only me that’s going to be out all night, but you.” 

“We live and work together now. We see each other three parts of the time. I get that you want some free time, but this is the nature of our job.” 

“Fine,” Lucas snapped. 

“What do you want me to say?” Amy exclaimed. 

“Maybe that you want to spend time with me, too.” 

“Of course I do! This was supposed to be my day off, remember. Look, we’ll be able to spend plenty of time together over the new year when we go up to Coventry.” Amy scooted up against Lucas, winding her arms around his waist. She stood up on her tip toes as he began to move his head down, chuckling. He enjoyed teasing her. “Look, just kiss me!” she hissed playfully. 

They kissed for a few seconds and then Lucas nudged his nose into the crook of Amy’s neck. He inhaled her scent and sweetness. 

“I love you, Gigantor,” Amy giggled. 

“And I love you, Munchkin.” 

“Oh, fuck off!” Amy laughed, slapping Lucas’ arm for emphasis. 

Back at Thames House, Amy and Lucas made their way through security. Then they made their way up to the second floor, dropping their bags at their desks. Tariq, Jo and Ruth had already gathered together, chattering. 

“Coffee?” Jo asked, smiling to Lucas and Amy. 

“Please,” Amy chirped. 

The team all gathered together in one of the meeting rooms, with Harry at the head of the table. “I’m afraid this operation may mean working over Christmas, so I want to thank you all for being available. Robert Spiller is back in the UK. Intel has led us to believe that he’s going to be in Southampton tonight when an importation of illegal weapons and potentially radioactive matter arrives on our shores. Lucas and Jo are going to head out tonight and keep watch at the dock. Tariq, Amy and Ruth, I want you to keep track of his movement and audio, as we’ve already bugged his car. More intel will be coming in so we’ll need you all on hand for that.” 

“What happens once he leaves the dock?” Amy asked. 

“We follow him. Not sure where he intends to go, but we’ll have to follow him as far as we can and report back regularly,” Jo explained. “Ros will also be with us and intends to go undercover as a customs officer. We also believe that staff on the docks may be being paid to let the import slip through with no checks. Radioactive material usually sets off an alarm at all ports, so our guess is that someone on the inside will switch off the alarm just long enough for the shipment to get through with little to no checks by customs and Border Force.” 

The briefing was fairly vague, but held enough information for the team to know what they were doing and what was expected. Amy would be assisting Tariq and Ruth, keeping checks on vehicle movement and also audio from inside the vehicle, and check ins from Ros, Lucas and Jo. She felt like a drifter, having no specific role. 

Come seven ‘o’ clock, Lucas approached Amy’s desk and gave her a sad smile. “I hope to be back at some point tomorrow, but I can’t guarantee it.” 

“You keep safe,” Amy replied. “One way or the other, I’ll make sure you eat a Christmas dinner.” 

“I’m already looking forward to it.” Lucas embraced Amy. “I just want something normal for once, and eating turkey and stuffing with you sounds a lot more appealing than this.” 

“Shh. Remember what I said. We’ll have all of new year. Now get to work and remember that I love you.” 

They both kissed one last time and then reluctantly parted. 

Tariq couldn’t help but chuckle behind Amy. “I don’t know whether to say that you two are cute or nauseating.” 

“Probably nauseating,” Amy replied, grinning. “And on that note, fancy something to eat?”

“I thought you were never going to ask!” Tariq exclaimed enthusiastically. 

For almost three hours, while the surveillance team travelled, the rest of the office team remained on standby, eating Pringles and chocolate. Amy began twirling on her chair, becoming bored. Lucas couldn’t use his personal phone while out, so Amy couldn’t even text him and remain in contact. The wait for them to arrive at the dock was agonising. 

Suddenly at around ten ‘o’ clock, a faint and crackling line came through the computer speakers. Ros’ voice confirmed that she was now in place and on standby, ready to go when the shipment came in. Lucas and Jo radioed in five minutes later, giving the details of their observation point. 

On the dock and Lucas remained quiet, sitting in the passenger seat of the silver Lexus they had signed out of the work garage. Jo was sipping on a coffee that she had picked up from a motorway service station. She smiled at the taste of gingerbread pouring through behind the bitter coffee. 

“This arsehole could have at least waited until after Christmas for this,” Lucas groaned. 

Jo smirked. “You know how it is. People seem to think that they’re least likely to be watched over Christmas, so that’s when they’re more likely to plan things like this. I thought you already knew that.” 

“I did, but it doesn’t mean I can’t hope. I’d rather be at home, under a blanket and watching cheesy Christmas films with Amy than sat here. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Jo chuckled. “I have noticed that since Amy started with us you do complain more. You were never like this before.” 

Lucas sighed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t be that obvious. I suppose now that I’m with Amy, I just want to be with her more and doing normal stuff at home.” 

“You’re in the wrong job, Lucas, if you want that. This job will never bring any kind of normality to your life. I don’t know why you’re only just seeing that.” 

“When I first started seeing Amy, I could step into her world and taste that normality. I could then step back into our world when I needed to. But now she’s in it too, I just feel like nothing is normal anymore. Okay, on her days off, I bring her coffee and toast in bed, but that’s about it.”

“I know relationships are hard to maintain, especially when you work together. I mean, look at Adam and his wife…”

Lucas sighed, shivering at the thought of Adam Carter and his wife, who had both died in the line of duty. “I dread the idea of her ever going out into the field, Jo. I couldn’t live with myself if I let her do that.” 

“But that’s the point, you’ve got to let her make her own decisions, and build your own sense of normality from being together. You’ve got to define what you both think is ‘normal’, and not go by what everyone tells you is normal. Do you have a problem with Amy now being a part of your world? You said that you could slip in and out of hers, but now she’s fully in yours. Does that threaten you?” 

“Of course it doesn’t!” Lucas exclaimed, taken aback at Jo’s comment. “If anything it means that we get to share more than we ever did before. I don’t have to hold anything back from her.” 

“Then you need to remind yourself that when you get annoyed at times like this when you’re apart. She understands you now more than she ever did before. Not many people get to experience that, so embrace it.” 

Back in London and Amy could feel her eyes closing. Tariq and Ruth were chatting away next to her as she doodled in a notebook in pen. It was now nearly midnight, only half hour from the intended shipment landing on UK shores. Every few minutes and the radio line would open, either Jo or Ros confirming no change in their observations. 

Once activity started and Amy could feel her adrenaline pumping and keeping her awake. She listened to the voices on the radio and watched in fascination as Tariq kept track of Spiller’s vehicle on the computer. As her first live surveillance case, Amy found that it seemed fairly simple. Jo and Lucas were now following the shipment, and Ros had taken down the details of the customs officers who had allowed all the activity to take place. The police would soon be notified. 

Harry kept a keen eye on Amy, noticing how she gave her input without being overbearing. She was someone who thought outside the box, who came up with the odd idea that no one else would have considered. Amy was a true thinker, an analyst. The longer the operation went on, and Harry noticed Amy’s confidence swell; she spoke more, asked questions, was interested. With a weak smile, he took a sip of his coffee, and silently hoped that Amy really was the right candidate for the job. However, he trusted Ros’ judgement, as it was she who had made the call in hiring Amy. 

Morning came. Dawn broke over London at around half seven, a sure sign of the winter season being upon the country. Amy was waiting for Lucas to come home; the operation had been fully completed and stood down at around five in the morning. The police had been notified and arrests could now take place. 

Ruth and Tariq had already left the office. Amy was waiting for Lucas, who would no doubt need to file a few pieces of paperwork, such as handing his weapon back in. Logs would need to be signed, diarising the events and the officers on plot. 

As Lucas and Jo stepped back into the office and onto the Grid, Amy was waiting patiently with fresh coffee and pastries that she had grabbed from the local café. Both Lucas and Jo smiled and thanked her. And then Lucas gave her a kiss, promising that he wouldn’t be long and they’d be out of there soon. Meanwhile, Ros disappeared into Harry’s office, organising a debrief time for when everyone would be more alert and awake after pulling an all-nighter. 

“I heard Harry say that he might be organising the debrief on a conference call later this afternoon,” Amy told Lucas and Jo as she tucked into her pastry. 

Lucas smiled as he saw some of the flakes of pastry fall onto Amy’s jumper. The little things about her still enthralled him just as much as the big ones, like watching her eat, having complete disregard for falling crumbs while she was talking.

“Conference call is a good shout. It’s Christmas Eve, after all,” Lucas replied. 

Once all paperwork had been completed, Lucas took Amy’s hand in his and the two of them walked out, taking the lift down to the ground floor. Jo wasn’t too far behind, and called to them both, wishing them Merry Christmas. 

***

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[promenadewithme]

May I please have prompt 62 with Simon Basset x female!reader?

Of course! Thank you for requesting!

Pairing: Simon Basset x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 62 (”She doesn’t belong with him” “Than who does she belong with?” “...with me.”)

Warnings: very slight angst with a happy ending. I'm sorry, but I just had to include him saying "I burn for you".

Word count: 1.7 k

Tell me if you want to join my tag list!

Oblivious

__________________________________________

Dearest Readers,

it has come to this author’s attention that Lady (y/n) (y/l/n) and Lord Benedict Bridgerton were seen promenading earlier this week. We all know Miss (y/l/n) to be a close friend to the Bridgertons, but will she officially become part of the family? Rest assured, if there is an engagement this author will find out.

Your’s Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

__________________________________________

YOUR P.O.V.

“This is absurd!” you exclaimed. “We were seen walking and now we’re to be married?”

“Calm down, (y/n). You know Whistledown is just a gossip, no one will remember this in a week.” said Benedict, putting down his sketchbook to look at you. 

As soon as you woke, your lady’s maid showed the infamous society papers and you all but ran to the Bridgerton estate. Benedict was, as always, in the drawing room sketching away. He had already read the paper, but thought nothing of it. He was calm, so calm it irritated you.

“Ben, you don’t understand! If people think I’m engaged to you, they will stop courting me and, unless you plan on marrying me, that is a disaster! I have to marry this season!” at this point Benedict stood up and caressed your arm in an attempt of calming you down. To anyone else, this scene would be scandalous and incredibly improper, but you and Ben have known eachother since infancy and were the best of friends, so there was nothing romantic about the gesture.

“(y/n), my dear, what is this rush? We are still young, you can see so many more seasons before being considered a spinster. You are beautiful, smart, accomplished and any man in the ton would be more that lucky to have you as his wife. If they don’t see it, it’s their loss. As for the rumors chasing them away, I believe it will do quite the opposite.” he said with a smirk.

“Whatever do you mean? If they believe I am to be married, how would it attract them?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, not to brag, but I am a Bridgerton. If they think you caught my eye, they’d be curious to know what’s so special about you. So, don’t fret. All will be well.” With one last reassuring squeeze, he turned around and sat back down. “Now, are you going to Lady Danbury’s ball this evening?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at his sketch, not quite contempt with the shading.

“Of course I am, it’s the biggest ball of the season!” you exclaimed, sitting down on the sofa in front of him.

“Thank the heavens! If my mother tries to push eligible ladies my way, I’ll run in your direction.” he said, still sketching. Benedict stopped for a second and looked up at you “I heard a certain Duke will be there.” he stated with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and said “We all know he is bewitched by Daphne, it does not matter if he will be there.” 

“Of course it matters, you are in love with the man! And, to be completely honest, I don’t believe it is my sister who his heart belongs to. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, it’s the same way Colin looks at maps or Eloise looks at books.” He was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped.

“Like I’m an object?” you said, kidding of course and dying to change the subject. You had the tendency to get your hopes up and the last thing you wanted was to believe your friend and end up with a broken heart.

“Like you hung the moon and the stars.” he had a serious expression and your heart skipped a beat with the thought that Simon would ever look at you that way, but you knew it would never happen. So you waved your hand, smiled and said “I think all the charcoal and paint is going straight to your brain, Mr. Bridgerton. I expect to see your hands all clean if you are to dance with me to trick your poor mama.” Standing up, you curtsied mockingly and said your goodbyes before walking out the door. 

SIMON'S P.O.V.

Simon woke with news from Lady Whistledown. He was never one to believe in gossip, but Daphne was always talking about the society papers during their fake courting, so his curiosity got the best of him. What he did not expect was to read (y/n)'s name.

He had sworn to himself that he would never marry, but arriving at the beginning of the season he couldn't help but be smitten by you. He tried to fight it, but every time you smiled he saw himself smiling along, every time you wore his favourite colour he forgot how to breathe, and every time he saw you with Benedict Bridgerton he couldn't control his jealousy.

He confided in Daphne about it and she guaranteed (y/n) and the second Bridgerton son were just close friends, but Lady Whistledown seems to think differently. To be married? Was this true? If so, he knew it was for the best. He would be able to keep his promise to himself, but he could not help the ache in his heart as he dressed for the day.

(Y/N)'S P.O.V.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pleased with the outcome. Your lady's maid had weaved delicate flowers in your hair, that was pulled up loosely and you wore your newest dress, long white gloves and the family diamonds. Madame Delacroix really outdid herself this time. It was your favourite colour, with princess sleeves, only slightly puffed, and had embroidered tulle at the hem and bottom part of the skirt. You looked truly beautiful.

"(y/n), it's time to-" your mother paused at the door and looked at you. She smiled softly at your reflection. "You look so beautiful, my dear... Do you think a certain Lord might like it too?" she said smiling softly.

"It is not the Lord's attention I want, mama. You know Ben is just a friend" you said, playing with the skirt of your dress.

"I know, sweetheart, I just don't want you do get hurt. All I want is for you to be happy and what better than to marry your best friend?" she hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek, still looking at your reflection.

"To marry the one you love..."

SIMON'S P.O.V.

"You really have outdone yourself, Lady Danbury." Simon said, looking down at the woman who practically raised him. She was wearing a white gown, a tiara and long white gloves, radiant as always, leaning on her cane.

"I always do, my boy. Now, look at that! Your beloved has arrived." she declared with a small smirk.

"I have already spoken to Daphne" he said, nodding in the Bridgerton family direction, however his heart was beating out of his chest as he turned to look at (y/n). It seemed impossible, but she was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her. Simon looked away before he was caught staring.

"We both know I'm not speaking of the Bridgerton girl. You are not as discreet in your brooding as you like to think." he looked at you again, but you were already speaking to Benedict, who was leading you to the dance floor. "What is bothering you, boy?"

Simon stared at the pair dancing for a moment before responding. "She does not belong with him."

"Than who does she belong with?" (y/n) was laughing at something Benedict said and Simon could not bare the view anymore.

"...With me." he mumbled before heading to the gardens.

(Y/N)'S P.O.V.

The song finished and you curtsied, smiling at your best friend. The smile slowly turned into a frown as you saw Simon walking out, into the gardens.

"Go after him." Benedict whispered.

"What? We would be unchaperoned, it would be scandalous!" you answered, only loud enough for him to hear.

"I'll stand at the door and make sure no one sees. Go!" you smiled and wished you could hug you best friend. "Thank you, Ben." you said as you went into the garden after the man you love. The weather was pleasant and the garden was completely empty, with only the Duke passing back and forth close to the bushes.

"Simon?" he stopped in his tracks, looking surprised as he gazed back at you and stepped closer.

"What are you doing here, if we were to be caught unchaperoned yo-" you stopped the nervous man by saying "Benedict is at the door, no one will see."

"Of course he is." he mumbled, but you heard.

"What does that mean?" you asked, not understanding his sudden dislike for the lord.

"It means he is always around, always with you." he spat out.

"Well, he is my best friend." you could not believe what he was saying. "What do you have against him?" you questioned.

"Are you truly to be married?" he demanded, ignoring your question.

"What?" you replied, completely incredulous.

"Please don't." he murmured.

"Simon, I-" you tried to answer but he cut you off.

"Before you say anything, please listen to me. Don't marry him, please." he paused for a second, adjusting his posture. "I love you. You..." he shook his head. "You don't even know what you do to me. Ever since I can remember, I have promised myself I would never fall victim to love, would never marry, would not let my family name carry on. Then came you."

Simon took a step closer and continued to speak. "You changed my plans, awoke desires I never knew I had, you have stolen my heart and my soul... I burn for you." he took your gloved hands in his, caressing them softly. "Don't marry him, marry me." he gazed into your eyes, waiting your answer.

"Simon... It was never my plan to marry Benedict, I was completely honest when I said he is nothing but a friend." you smiled up at him before saying "you are the one I love, always have been."

Simon grinned before pulling you into a passionate kiss, one hand on your back and the other behind your neck. It was a good thing Benedict was at the door, if anyone saw this scene and the rumours reached Lady Whistledown... You didn't even want to think about the ruin it would bring upon your family.

When you and Simon finally parted you managed to mumble "We truly have been oblivious, haven't we? I thought you were in love with Daphne." he chuckled.

"And I thought you to be with Benedict. Good thing you followed me out here, my love." he said, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

"From now on, it's all I'll ever do."

[ellana-ravenwood]

The art of taking care of the woman you love - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : You’ve always had really bad period pains. You learned to live with it, and to take care of yourself during those times...Up until a certain Bruce Wayne came into your life, and made it his mission to be there for you. 

For @meghan-maria​, who gotta be the sweetest out there :), and for anyone who ever had really bad period pains. I hope you will like it : 

TW : periods. It’s obvious given the theme, but I guess we never know and better safe than sorry. 

My master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

_________________________________________________

The First time it happened

It’s the fact you cancelled your planned date with him without an explanation that makes him worry. 

“Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Will see you tomorrow !” 

You never did that before, and you two were so busy neither of you would miss a date really. Not unless something bad or important happened. But then in that case, you would’ve told him, no ?

It made him so anxious. And he was starting to clearly overthink things. 

Were you maybe...having second thoughts ? 

You and Bruce made your relationship official not long ago, was the media’s pressure becoming too much ? You told him you’d be fine, but after a few months experiencing the plague that were paparazzi and invasive questions, did you change your mind ? 

Or maybe it was because of the whole Batman thing ? You discovered that a while ago, even before making your relationship official so...why would you change your mind about it now ? 

Maybe he came home with too many cuts and bruises. Maybe you were freaking out ? He would understand if you did. 

Or...There was a last option that came to his mind : he upset you somehow. 

It was entirely possible, sometimes he could get stuck in his own mind, and be a jerk without even truly realizing it. He knew that fact very well about himself. It was often the reason of how he ruined multiple relationships, friends or more. 

The way he sometimes just got too focused on his vigilante work. Too obsessed. And could be stuck in a “dark mode” like you’d say...

But, he also knew that you never took any of his shit. You would’ve told him if something was really the matter, right ? 

Right ?!

Should he ask Alfred if he noticed anything ? His butler, and surrogate father, always saw things that escaped him. Especially when it came to feelings. 

This was a less known trait about Bruce, but ever since he was a child, he’s always been anxious. He was usually really good at hiding it, and his “Brucie Wayne” persona made everyone think it wasn’t possible for him to be anything else but confident and cocky but...it wasn’t true. 

Especially when it came to those he cared about. Especially when it came to you. 

You loved him despite his flaws, accepted him fully, without any conditions. It was the first time it ever happened, that he LET it happen...So, with this simple plan cancellation that was quite unlike you, he freaked out a bit.

In the middle of the day, he finally decided to call you. One. Two. Three tones before you picked up, and oh. Oh he felt so relieved to hear your little “hello ?” 

At the same time, his worry peaked. Was it just him, or did you sound really weak ?

“Hey honey, just wanted to check if you were alright ? Your text was a little short, and I know you don’t owe me any explanations of course, but I just wanted to check on you. You know. I-um...” 

Clumsy Brooshy. 

It made you smile, the way he could be a little flustered and lose his words, when with you. And it made you smile even wider that he chose to call you to make sure everything was ok. 

Sweet Broosh.

If you really didn’t want to talk to him, you wouldn’t have answered. And he wasn’t the kind of man to “insist”. He would’ve left a voice message, and leave you alone until you felt like calling him back. Bruce was most definitely not invasive...but at the same time, you’d never leave him worrying for no reasons, knowing how anxious he could be.

The truth was, your text was short because...You didn’t know how to tell him the reasons you needed to cancel your date. You didn’t want to embarrass him. Men didn’t really like to talk about what you currently were suffering from. 

You also were a little embarrassed yourself, because the entire society surrounding you made you feel wrong for having periods. 

Periods. 

One week a month. Every single months. That was a lot. 

Especially for you because...you always had complicated and difficult periods. Painful. Making you feel like you couldn’t move. The pain making it impossible for you to even get out of bed for long. 

You and Bruce had been dating for a while but...weren’t periods sort of a taboo subject ? You didn’t really know how to tell him. Especially since most men really seemed uncomfortable with the all thing. 

Of course, you should’ve know Bruce wasn’t “most men”. 

“Baby, are you there ?” 

“Um yes yes, sorry I was lost in thoughts.” 

“Are you ok ? You don’t sound right.” 

The most observant man in the World was obviously going to realize your voice sounded weaker than usually. The truth was, you were trying really hard to keep it steady as pain filled your being. 

“Yes yes, I’m ok, just feeling a bit...under the weather ?” 

“Is there anything I can do ? Is it a cold or something ? If so, I can bring you buy some chicken noodle soup, and pick up any meds you might need.” 

You almost cried at his words. 

Super busy bee Bruce Wayne was telling you he’d go out of his way to bring you what you needed...It made you crack a little. 

He was too damn nice. And your hormones were in shambles. It was very easy right now for you to cry. 

This. How willing he was to help you, how he immediately asked if he could...Was what made you say the truth without thinking twice : 

“I’m-I’m on my periods. They’re usually- They’re usually bad.” 

“Oh.” 

His response scared you a little bit. Were you right, was this maybe too much, too soon ? You were about to add something when he said : 

“I’ll be there in about an hour, if it’s ok with you ? If you prefer to be alone I can send-” 

“No ! No, I would love for you to come. I just-I wasn’t sure-I-”

“It’s ok. I understand. See you in a bit, love you.” 

“Love you, too.” 

On that note, Bruce hung up and leaves you with a wild beating heart. 

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

Exactly an hour later, your doorbell rings. 

With difficulties, you stand up, and go open the door. Surely enough, it’s your boyfriend. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

He has a bag in his hand, and you melt a little at the soft look and smile he gives you (even if there’s clear concerns behind it). You let him in, and go sit on the couch, even if just sitting up is already too much. 

“Do you want to lie down ?” 

“No. No I’m fine. You came all the way here, I can’t just stay in bed haha.” 

“Of course you can.” 

There’s a small silence for a little bit. Not awkward, you’re just not quite sure what to do. Should you go back to bed ? You really want to. And clearly, he understands. He always does. 

“Ok.” 

You stand, and wince because moving really makes everything worst. He approaches you, worried, but doesn’t dare to touch you and just follows you into your room. You get back in your comfy bed, under your comfy comforter. 

Another silence. Until he breaks it, taking something out of the bag he was carrying and saying : 

“So. I wasn’t sure you had a hot water bottle, I don’t ever recall seeing one in your apartment. So I bought one on the way just in case. Sorry if you don’t like the color, I can pick another one up later. It’s just, the woman on YouTube said that heat pads and hot water bottles were great.”

“The...woman on YouTube ?” 

“Yes, I watched a video on menstruations on the way here.” 

For a few seconds, you just stare at him, stunned. Never EVER in your entire life did you think you would hear THE Bruce Wayne say those words one day.

“A video on menstruations ?”

“Well, yes. Obviously, I don’t have periods. So I have no idea what it feels like. So I watched a video, to understand the process. And also so that you wouldn’t have to explain anything to me. You know what periods are, you don’t have to educate me on it. It’s not your job. And I definitely don’t want to sound patronizing about it. So I watched a video, and read a few articles. I won’t say I know how it feels, but I understand it more. Tell me if I ever step my bounds at any moment..” 

You can’t help but smile, even as your lower belly is on fire. Ah. Of course he would search things about it. Bruce was the kind of man to be thorough in his researches before tackling a problem. As Batman, he always tried to know everything there is to know about a situation before finding any solutions. But he was like that in real life too. 

And it particularly touched you that he did it so you wouldn’t have to explain...You had an ex, once, who sat down with you to talk about menstruations and it sort of drove you crazy. He thought it was nice, but your hormones were wreaking HAVOC and he was trying to explain to you how periods work and what it felt like ??? Give you advice about it and that it would be fine if you did what he said ?? Excuse me ??? As if you didn’t try everything already to feel less pain. And as if, as a woman, you didn’t know what it felt like or what it was exactly...

And there came Bruce. Reading up on it. And knowing he would never quite know how it feels. But educating himself so he won’t say something that could trigger you in any way. 

Sweet sweet man...If only people knew. 

He caressed your cheek softly, before whispering : 

“Then I-I watched something on endometriosis, because I read in a previous article it felt horrible. And you said your periods were bad, when we were on the phone. It sounds awful. Do you-...Have endometriosis ?” 

You shake your head weakly. Endometriosis was one of the reason why your periods were so painful and dreaded. And the worst ? It was a sickness many people said didn’t even exist. 

A woman being in pain during her periods ? Drama queen. Right ? It didn’t hurt that baaaaad. See, some women didn’t feel anything, just bled for a bit and moved on with their months. So obviously every women felt the same. Some were just being too sensitive...

Endometriosis was still, even to this day, a rather unknown illness and one that was rarely taken seriously. Some people just couldn’t even fathom you being in pain because of your periods, so much so that you couldn’t move. 

That you occasionally fainted, that you couldn’t eat much because it made you vomit, that you had awful migraines, stomach ache and back pain. That you couldn’t focus or sleep because of it. No. 

No those were just “made up symptoms” because you were “weak”...What awful things to say, right ? It was even worst to hear. Someone telling you this, as you felt like you were dying because of the pain, made you feel GUILTY to have painful periods. 

But it wasn’t your fault ? IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT ?! Nor were the moodswings, the cravings, the fatigue...

You hated going to the doctors when you were younger, because you knew he wouldn’t believe you when you said your periods hurt...

Anyway. Even without endometriosis, women who had bad periods pain were rarely taken seriously. Unless they met another woman who felt the same. Then they’d feel like they weren’t alone, or crazy. Like there were others who felt bad too. 

Every woman was different. And you unfortunately never met someone else with the same problems than you...

You felt very alone, for so long, and it was enhanced by your hormones going crazy and the pain being unbearable at times. 

And then, in come Bruce. 

Your Broosh. 

“Ok. Well. I brought you some of your favorite food. And um, I picked up some snacks if you want to do a movie marathon ? I brought all The Lord of the Rings extended editions. I got heat pads and a hot water bottle like I said. We can also just cuddle and relax if you prefer, I read that physical comfort was good ? Or, I can leave everything here, settle you in properly, and leave you alone. Just, tell me what you need my love ?” 

What did...you need ? 

Nobody ever asked you that. Nobody. Not even your parents. 

What did you need ? 

The answer came quickly. 

Him. You need him. His warmth. His large and soothing hands. His comforting presence. His calming voice. 

You knew you were in love with him since a while now. You exchanged “I love yous” already. But never did you feel as much love for him as right now, seeing him sitting in front of you, asking you what you needed...

A simple action. Simple words. And yet, it meant everything. 

“What do you need, honey ?” 

The concern in his eyes, and how he was very obviously ready to do whatever you wanted him to. 

It already made you feel better. The physical pain didn’t go down, that’s not how it worked unfortunately. But the emotional anguish ? Gone. 

Because he was there. 

Without even realizing it, you started crying. This was too much for your heart, too overwhelming. It meant the World, in that moment. 

It meant the world, to you and your overworked hormones. And so you cried. You cried hard. 

Without thinking twice, Bruce moved towards you. Taking his coat off and leaving it on the floor (Alfred would scold him about this for sure), he climbs in your bed and engulfs you in his arms. And it’s so warm and comforting, comfortable, too. 

“Just tell me what you need..”

He whispered to you, in his deep calming voice, his fingers running soothingly through your hair. 

“Could you just...keep holding me ?” 

He smiles softly, and says : 

“Of course.” 

He never, and never would, shy away from comforting you in any way. If you needed to have a good cry in his arms, so be it. And if you just needed him to be there, he would be there. 

You cuddled for a bit, the soothing circles he rubbed on your back doing wonders to make you feel relax. He brought some essential oils, that he massaged on your belly before filling the hot water bottle and laying it there...It relieved the pain a little bit, as you started a marathon of your favorite movies.

He took great care of you all day long, answering your every need even as you didn’t dare to ask...as if he could read your mind. You almost suspected he really could. You never felt so in phase with anyone before like you did with him.  

You had been together for less than a year. Although your anniversary was right around the corner. But him coming over as soon as he knew you weren’t feeling well. Him educating himself on what was it that hurt you...

If you weren’t sure yet that he was the one...You knew now. 

It sucks to be a woman, sometimes 

Bruce never knew periods could be that bad. Well, of course, he was a guy. And “periods” was never really a subject he talked about with anyone. He never really paid attention to it, like many men really. 

Until he saw you while on it. 

He knew you. He knew you were a tough lady. Once, you broke your leg while on a date with him. A silly accident really. Involving an ice rink, and an overzealous you chasing a hockey puck...Long story short, you ended up with a bad break. And you barely said a word about it. 

Bruce had his bones broken many times, he knew the pain of it. It was one of the pain he hated the most, along with burns. One he dreaded the most. And you took it like a champ. 

The break was bad enough you even needed surgery, yet you kept smiling at him (he might’ve feel bad that he let his over-competitive mind take over, “pushing” you to really want that puck...but of course, it was not his fault, after all, you too were very competitive, it was a pure accident). Saying you were fine, and that it’d be ok. 

He always hated seeing you hurt, it hurt him too. Inside. And scared the Hell out of him, to even think about you being harmed. So that day, he was rather frantic. You staying calm helped him, which made him feel a little guilty that even as you were the hurt one, you reassured him. 

But then you reminded him the roles were often reversed when he came back hurt from a rough vigilante night...You always had the right words to ease his mind. 

Anyway. That one time, after badly breaking your leg, you stayed rather calm and collected. But when you had your periods ? 

He never knew it could hurt so much. You couldn’t hide your pain, or pretend everything was alright. 

It was clearly a really bad moment to go through. 

He knew about the terrible migraines, being unable to sleep which made everything worst, feeling like your lower belly was being twisted from the inside, being sore all over for no reasons, not being able to move... 

Seeing you, was enough for him to know that periods sucked. 

“Being a woman is the worst, sometimes!” 

You’d often say during those moments, and he’d just soothe you, wishing he was in your place...

He hated when you were hurting. It hurt him too. Inside. 

And never. NEVER would he doubt that you were in real pain. Because unlike the doctors who kept telling you it was in your head, he knew you. He saw you get injured before. He knew you were tough. So for you to not be able to pretend everything was fine... 

You were hurting. Badly. And it was awful. But he believed you. He believed you and that’s all that mattered to you. 

Space

He also knew how to give you space when you needed it, though. 

He would be here if you needed him, bring you any food you craved, giving you relaxing massages, rubbing essential oils on your belly, filling up your hot water bottle etc etc. 

To be honest, his reaction to you being on your period is what made you sure he would be a great father one day...And you were right. 

Not a perfect father. 

But oh. Oh he cared. And wanted so much to do good...

And he knew. 

He knew exactly when he had to be there, and when he had to give you space. 

His hoodie

Bruce couldn’t always be with you when you had your periods, of course. 

He often took time off to be. But it was unrealistic to think he could be 24/7 with you the entire week. 

And sometimes, when he was away, you really suddenly craved his presence...So you came up with a trick. 

You stole his clothes. 

Particularly, hoodies he often wore when hanging out casually in the Manor. 

First of, they were very comfortable. And second, and most importantly : they smelled like him. 

They were warm, had his scent, and you could fall asleep feeling like he was almost there. 

Bruce couldn’t count the number of hoodies he lost to you....Then again, after a while, you’d ruthlessly abandon one because it stopped smelling like him, and would steal another one. 

Of course, he never minded. In fact, beyond the fact hoodies were nice and comfortable, he started to wear them a lot while in the house or during times he didn’t need to wear a suit (in every sense of the term), specifically because he knew you’d steal them when you felt lonely. 

It was cute. And it made his heart beat faster just thinking about it. 

Nobody. 

Nobody ever needed him that much before. Nobody ever loved him so much that sometimes him not being around was distressing. 

Of course, he felt the same. And the knowledge that you too, would sometimes feel lovesick when you were separated for too long...Filled his heart to the brim with the best feelings. 

For so long, he thought someone being dependable of him, and him being dependable of someone was bad...Oh, how he was wrong. 

It’s not because you open your heart to someone that you’ll get hurt, or that they’ll use it against you. You just have to find the right person... 

So. Yes. He will always cancel plans just to be with you. 

To bring you hot water bottles whenever you need. To cook your favorite food and snacks. To be there during all your mood swings, and endure even if you’re not the nicest to him (it’s not your fault). To watch your favorite movies. To let you sleep in and run your errands...

Periods sucked. 

He didn’t need to be a woman to know that. 

So he was there. Right there. For you. Taking care of you. And he would forever be there for that. 

But when he wasn’t ? 

Then he’d strategically leave one of his hoodie near the bed, so you could steal it, and comfort yourself with his smell...

Mood Swings 

“Brooooooooooosssssh...” 

You’re crying. You’re crying ! 

And it makes Bruce panic. You cry very rarely, so when you do it means something really bad must’ve happened or..or...

Bruce makes a quick calculation in his head and...Yup. 

It’s that time of the month again. 

Already ? Poor you.. 

This means that tomorrow, you’ll be a mess as everything will hurt too much, and today, the eve right before, you’re overly emotional. 

Hence you clinging to him right now, sobbing while repeating “I love you so much Bruce, I love you soooo much”. 

Hormones could really turn your head around. Right at the start of your period, before the pain, you had a rush of many emotions. 

You could either get very irritated for no reason (like “WHY IS THIS FLOOR ON THE FLOOR ?!”) or cry at everything. Right now, you were crying because you realized you loved your Broosh to death and you just had to tell him and you didn’t want him to go that night and...ah...

“It’s alright, it’s alright my love. You’re ok. We’re ok.” 

He lets you cry in his arms, of course. And already made the decision to not go out tonight, and stay with you. Kate could take over. He couldn’t leave knowing your emotions were doing quite a trick on you...

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

Your mood swings during your periods were particularly bad. 

You guessed it went in pairs with all the pain. Of course, not just one thing had to be exacerbated. Oh no. EVERYTHING bad about periods had to be turned to the max for you. Otherwise, were was the fun, right ? Sarcasm. 

You’d get irritated for no reasons. Then feel bad and cry for hours. To then feel ridiculously giddy once again for seemingly no reason...and then suddenly a burst of anxiety would attack you. 

It was a circus in your mind, and in your body. 

You couldn’t focus on anything. You couldn’t sleep properly. You felt awful all the time. Everything hurt. God...

And there he was. Bruce. Taking the brunt of your bad moods without saying a word. He knew it wasn’t your fault. That you didn’t mean it. That your hormones dictated your behavior against your own will. 

He knew. 

And he was there. 

He was there. 

“Every little moment is important, Son” - Thomas Wayne, to Bruce during the Flashpoint events.

“Bruce ? What are you doing here ? Thought you had important meetings ?”

“They weren’t that important.” 

“Really ? Lucious said-”

“Lucious is overdramatic. Anyway, Tim is taking care of it.” 

“...You’re letting our sixteen years old son taking care of the future of your company ?” 

“To be honest, he’s probably more competent about it than me.” 

“...That’s actually pretty accurate. But, why did you cancel things ?” 

“Because it’s this unpleasant time of the month, right ?”

“Oh. You don’t have to-” 

“I absolutely do.” 

Disappearing for a few seconds, your husbands comes back, wearing one of his favorite silk pajamas (and by “his” favorite, he really means : he knows you love them and think they look good on him, but won’t ever admit it because they’re “damn pajamas, it’s silly”...but he likes to please you). He then climbs in bed with you, and settles comfortable against you. 

“So, what’s the program today ?” 

This wasn’t unusual, for him to do this when you were on your periods. 

In fact, it was almost a ritual. Delegating his works to others, so he could take care of you. 

Ever since that first time, all those years ago, things didn’t change much. He would ask you what you need, you’d tell him, and he would do it happily. 

He knew it was a tough moment for you, physically, hormonally, mentally...Having your periods sucked. So he was there. Right there. 

The words his father...Well, not really his father. The “Thomas Wayne” of another dimension. What his father would’ve become if he died that fateful night, instead of his parents. Regardless, to him, it was his father. 

The father that never saw him grow up and became the man he was now...Yet who had important words for him. 

“Take advantage of every little moments, you never know when it’ll end.” 

Those words stuck with him. Because it was true. It only took a few seconds in an alleyway for his whole world to turn upside down...Why would it take any less for it to completely change now too ? 

What if something happened to you ? And he didn’t spend enough time by your side ? Or to his kids ? 

There was a time, being Batman was everything to Bruce. Because he was angry, lost, and devastated. 

But over the years...Over the years this role stayed important. But he expended his vision. He included others in it. 

So. Yes. He would treasure those small moments with you. And if it meant taking a day and night off to take care of you during a rough time, then he’d do it. If it meant missing work (both his works) because one of his children was sick, so be it. 

He was Batman. But he was also a husband. A father. 

And now...Now he knew his priorities. 

He’d never stop being Batman. Never. 

But he knew now. He knew there was more to life than this dark world he thought he’d get stuck in till the end of his life. 

“I was about to watch a movie.” 

“A movie it is. If you want me here, of course.” 

“Do you even have to ask ?” 

“To make sure you’re ok ? Always.” 

“-sigh- Yes. Yes Bruce, I want you here. I want nothing else, in fact.” 

“Ah, not even pop-corn ?”

“...Once we’ll have pop-corn, I’ll want nothing else.” 

“Um, why is there tampons in your drawer ??” 

One day, one of Bruce’s associate, Carlton, needed some paperworks to finish a deal, and came into his office. Bruce was on the phone, and gestured to him to just pick the papers up in one of his desk’s drawer. 

Only the man misunderstood and opened the wrong drawer and...

“What the-Why is there tampons and pads in your drawers ?”

He asked, half-bewildered half-amused. Bruce finished his phone call, and answered : 

“Why wouldn’t there be ?” 

“Um, are you a woman ?” 

“No, but my wife, who often come to this office, is.” 

“Jeez Louise Bruce, never pegged you to be such a simp haha ! Oh man, they’re even “organic”, how far can you go for one woman right ? Haha joking of course, or maybe..haha !” 

There was something in the tone Carlton took that brushed Bruce the wrong way. Something disrespectful and irritating. Not disrespectful to him, as if he cared to be called a “simp” (by a grown ass man by the way, which made it even more ridiculous). No. He didn’t care. But..This was his wife, they were talking about, in the end. 

“A...”simp” ? Because I have items who can be useful to my wife in my desk drawer ? A place in which she often comes, as I already said ?” 

His voice was cold, and Carlton definitely noticed. He always thought Bruce was an affable man, but sometimes...Sometimes he had something almost scary in his eyes. 

Ah, but Carlton wasn’t the kind of man to really take this things seriously. And he added : 

“Come on Bruce, don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous ?”

“No.” 

“I just think it’s funny you have a drawer full of those things.” 

“As I said, my wife comes by often, and might need it sometimes. I keep them here for her. It often came in handy you know.” 

“Don’t say that, that’s so gross.” 

“Why ?” 

“Just thinking about it.” 

“Just thinking about something my wife, but also yours by the way, have no control over ?” 

“My wife doesn’t- We just don’t talk about it.” 

“Well I guess yes. Or you wouldn’t react that way. Do you not take care of her when she has her periods ?” 

At the word “periods”, the man opened his eyes wide, which made your husband roll his. It truly TRULY baffled him that this dude was being grossed by OBJECTS and most likely didn’t take care of his wife ? How could you love someone and not want to comfort them ?! 

“Well, I don’t think she- I- She doesn’t - I ...It’s embarrassing, no ?”

“No.” 

“Well, maybe it’s not with your wife but with mine it has been. She asked me a few times to buy pads for her.” 

“Why would it be embarrassing ? I can assure you, nobody is going to think it’s for you.” 

Carlton’s face was steadily going red. He said : 

“It’s just something we don’t talk about.”

“Why not ?” 

“It’s just...gross and...” 

“Why is it gross though ? Why do you think that way ?” 

“I mean, you know what periods are right ?” 

“Of course I do. It’s something happening to a very large chunk of our population, and that is a natural phase in their life. Do you think your wife wants to have periods ? Most likely not. Mine definitely doesn’t. But she does. So I do keep pads and tampons here in case of an emergency, in case she has nothing else on her.” 

“Nothing else ?” 

“Do you think only pads and tampons exist for women’s periods ?” 

“I-”

“It’s not hard to read up on it a bit. Especially when someone as close as your own wife is a “victim” of it."

Awkard silence. Clearly, the man was uncomfortable. Bruce sighed, and said : 

“Just go take care of those papers.” 

Evidently relieved, his associate almost ran out of the room. 

Bruce kept thinking about how funny Carlton thought it was to have pads in his drawers. How he was about to mock him further before he got called out. “Simp”. If taking care of the woman he loved meant being a simp, then whatever. 

Bruce couldn’t stop thinking about his associate’s words. And it gave him an idea...

The next day, every newspapers and local news channel talked about how the (Y/N) Wayne Foundation gave millions of dollars to every school and public places in the country to provide free tampons and pads to women. And how Bruce Wayne became a huge advocate of the “period positivity” movement his wife started. 

“Periods shouldn’t be taboo.”, he said in his speech for the grand-opening of thousands and thousands of free pads distributors. 

When the kids are around. 

Dick 

Dick was little when he first witnessed what your periods did to you, and he downright panicked when you fainted in front of him while you two were shopping for Bruce’s birthday present ! 

That morning when you woke up, you knew you were going to have your periods. You always felt it in your bones, a little bit before it truly started...But you also promised little Dickie you’d help him chose a gift for your husband. 

You hated breaking your promises. Especially the one you made to your kid. He was just nine, and already experienced so many heartache...You couldn’t just break a promise you made to him, no matter what. 

So you went anyway, knowing there was a high chance you’d feel ill during the day. You were hoping, in fact, your periods wouldn’t truly start up until the evening, and so you could spend the day with your son. 

Alas...

“Mom ? Mom !? Someone help !!” 

Your fainting during your period never lasted long. Just a sudden drop of energy, feeling dizzy, and falling...you woke up fast. Opening your eyes to see your baby boy with tears in his eyes. You knew what happened, and reassured him immediately. 

You refused to call an ambulance, and instead called Alfred to ask if he could come pick you two up (you would NOT risk driving while in this state). 

And there you were, sitting on a bench with your son while waiting for Alfred who would be there as soon as it takes to get from Wayne Manor to Gotham’s City Center. 

“Are you sure you’re ok ?” 

“Yes, don’t worry, this is normal.”

“Fainting is not normal !” 

Dick looked so distressed...Should you tell him what was going on ? But he was such a young child. 

Ah. But you were amongst the people who thought that kids weren’t as stupid as many people thought. And that they could handle the truth, especially this kind of things. 

Understand what was happening to you would surely easy his mind. And make him understand, and act accordingly in the future. Wether with you, or a possible girlfriend ? 

So you do just that. 

You explain to him what is going on. You don’t give too many scientific details, but you explain as best you can so he understands. 

“And every women has it ?” 

“Every women have periods yes. But not everyone’s hurt.” 

“Why do yours hurt ?” 

“We don’t really know. I guess I wasn’t lucky ?”

“Scientists don’t know ?” 

“Well, research on it are rather recents to be honest.” 

“Why ? Women had it long ago too no ?” 

“Yes, but it was a little taboo.” 

“Why ?”

“Patriarchy.” 

“Oh, damn patriarchy.” 

You laugh. You knows he didn’t understand your answer, said as a joke to yourself. But it’s absolutely adorable how he immediately sides with you anyway. 

“When I grow up, I’ll be a scientist. So I can help.” 

“Ah, I thought you wanted to be an adventurer like Indiana Jones ? Or “whatever dad is doing I want to do it too” ?” 

“Well. I can do more than once things at the same time, right ?” 

“Sure you can. You can do anything.” 

He smiles at you, and get closer for a little cuddle. And that’s how Alfred finds you two, your son hugging you, and you hugging him back, on a bench in the streets... 

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

After the initial panic, Dick made it his mission to take care of you. He got really scared when he saw you faint, and would actually be a little...overbearing. 

When he knew you were on your periods, he’d literally forbid you to walk around, and would make sure you had everything you needed. 

His attentions, plus Bruce’s, made you feel like periods weren’t so bad in the end ? 

Even as a grown up, Dick would often come by the manor with your favorite cake, for example, when he knew you didn’t feel well. And he would still get strict with you if he saw you roaming around and getting too busy while he knew you were in pain. 

He’d do whatever you had to, for you. Wether it was cleaning things up, picking groceries...Running any errands for you, so you could rest. 

You were definitely grateful. Even if sometimes, you wish you could just tell him to ease up a bit...Ah. But how could you really ? 

The trauma Dick felt when loosing his parents made him overprotective and rather intransigeant. This was just how he was. And you always loved all your children unconditionally. You could take him being a bit too overprotective sometimes, because oh, oh he brought so much in your life...  

Jason 

You having really bad periods is the reason why when Jason, as a child or an adult, heard anyone say to a girl : “Jeez, why you so moody are you on your periods ?!”, would get mad. 

It was cute to see his little ten years old self lecture grown adults about it : “Periods are really tough on a girl ! It’s not their fault is they don’t feel well or have mood swings, be more empathetic !”. 

And it was still cute to see him as an adult glare at those who’d say this and give them a sermon about why it was wrong, and they better not say it again “or else” (and when a man like your son said the words “or else”, literally no one wanted to find out what he meant by it). 

Once, someone told him, sarcastically : 

“Wow, you drunk a lot of “respect women juice” huh ?” 

“What is that even suppose to mean ? I’m being a decent human being. You should try it sometimes. If respecting women is so foreign to you, that hearing me say what I said is funny and ridiculous, reassess your life mate.”

It’s really not like anyone really wanted to argue with your son. Besides the fact he was very tall, and as a vigilante definitely worked out a lot...he had a “dangerous” air about him. It was his eyes maybe, daring anyone to argue and making them understand he wouldn’t back down without a fight ? 

Ah. But if only people tried to look beyond that. If they only tried to know your son. 

They’d realize he’s the sweetest little buddy around.  

It surprised people that you still called him “little buddy” even as he was fast approaching his mid-twenties. But for you... 

For you he was still that little, sweet Jay he was before he died. The one that you could still see sometimes, behind all his anger, trauma and hurt. 

Ever since he was a child, Jason always felt everything more than anyone around him. He was an “hypersensitive” child. When he was angry, he was enraged. When he was happy, he was the happiest boy on Earth. When he was sad, it was hard to console him. 

When he grew up, and all those bad things happened to him...This trait of his got even more enhanced. It was sometimes hard to reach him under all those negative emotions...Yet. Yet you managed to do it. 

Bruce too...But that was another story. 

For now, you just always felt extremely proud that your son was actually not as harsh as some people thought (the same mistakes they all kept making about your husband...you hated this kind of assumptions). 

He always stood up for the underdogs. And was always respectful, and would voice his opinions. 

Like how he hated when people told women : “ugh are you on your periods ?!” if they were being just a tiny bit difficult (sometimes, not even). 

As a kid, Jason would worry a lot about you when you were on your periods. He hounded Bruce to know if you were ok, which your husband didn’t mind, of course. But he never quite dared to “bother you”. 

Of course, he would never bother you. But Jason was a complicated kid who always worried too much. He didn’t want to get in your way, or annoy you. 

So he had little quiet actions for you. 

Like getting your slippers warm when you’d wake up, by placing them near the radiators all night and putting them right beside your bed before you’d wake up. Or bringing you hot beverages. Baking your favorite treats, and leaving them in strategic places so you’d see it. Or scolding his dad when he thought he wasn’t taking care of you enough haha. 

Jason was a good kid. Nobody would ever change your mind on that. He was a good kid, to whom bad things happened. Yet he never strayed from his principles...No matter how people could see his recent actions. 

Jason was a good kid. 

He was your kid. 

As a child, he hated this week during which you had your periods. He dreaded them as much as you did. Just like Bruce, he had a hard time standing you being hurt...

As an adult. It was the same. And he still had little silent actions to make you feel better. To make your day easier. 

That was Jason for you. 

Such, such a good kid... 

Tim 

Tim, very much like his father, was a boy who needed to always have a plan, and to know everything before finding solutions. 

When you were on your periods, he’d always know. Because he kept a calendar about it. 

Some people might find it weird, but...Why ? He kept count of the days to know when you’d have your periods, so he could act accordingly. So he wouldn’t be caught off guard by one of your mood swings. And so he could take care of you ?? 

It was an act of care, to keep track of your periods. Sometimes, he even knew before you when you were going to have it. 

People who thought it was weird to kept such a calendar, were the same people who thought periods were gross and a taboo subject. 

Sure, it was definitely not very glamorous. But it was part of half of the World’s population life ?? Why keep it taboo and refusing to talk about it ? 

Tim immediately, just like his dad, did a lot of research on women’s menstruations...Which got you to be called in his principal’s office once. 

The man was worried, and unhappy that your son was reading a magazine “for woman” about “menstruations”, he thought the topic was vulgar and inappropriate. 

Your son was 13. Which was also the age many of his girl friends were experiencing their first periods. And that principal was out there, scolding him because he talked about it, making an entire generation of little girls thinking they were wrong for having periods ? 

Needless to say, you got rather mad. And the principle never called you ever again (if he had to call, he was always making sure to get your husband on the line, and not you).

And so Tim kept learning everything possible about it, in the hope also to find the perfect remedies to ease your pain. He tried a lot, to help you out. Gave tricks to Bruce, too. 

And so, kept a calendar. 

This allowed him to know if something was wrong, as well. 

He was the first one to guess you were pregnant with Thomas, because of his calendar. And one time, you had hormonal problems and he’s the one that told you you should check an endocrinologist because you’d been too irregular with your periods time ! 

Yes. Just like his dad, Tim needed to know a situation fully before acting. And seeing him trying to know as much as he could in order to help you was...why, it was the most adorable thing in the world. 

Cass

Cass’ periods were not painful, and you were so glad for her. 

To her, it was a mild annoyance, there was no pain, it was just irritating. And yes, she had mood swings and could easily get mad, but it was nothing major. 

She never even knew other women could have it so bad...The education about periods was really lacking ! They never talked about it anywhere ! 

Cass was a woman of few words...but she knew how to pass her emotions through her body language. Oh, how she knew. 

“Momma.” 

Just like your other kids, she’d come check on you when Bruce couldn’t take care of you. You wanted space sometimes, which they all understood. But honestly, during your periods, when you were so sensitive about everything ? You also wanted them around almost all the time. 

A paradox. Very fitting of those damn periods time. 

Cass would just sit with you, and make sure you were comfortable. She wouldn’t say a word. Lay her head on your shoulder, and hold your hand. Watch movies with you. Hold you close. 

She was delicate with you, as if afraid to break you. 

Just like your husband, her presence had a soothing effect ? As if nothing bad could ever happen to you as long as she was there (and that probably was right, Cassandra would never let anyone touch her “momma”).

She didn’t need to talk. She didn’t need to do anything more than stay with you when you didn’t want to be alone. 

She never experienced the pain you had, but if even to her, who had painless periods, it was annoying and a damn plague ? Then to you... 

She didn’t need to do much. 

Just her being there already meant a lot. 

Her holding onto you, even as she stayed afraid of anyone’s touch for so long. 

“Momma.” 

Cassandra was your only daughter. And oh you were glad her periods weren’t as bad as yours. That’s all that really mattered to you. 

“Momma.” 

You often fell asleep with the warmth of your kiddo right there. Next to you. Knowing she wasn’t going to leave unless you wanted to. Knowing she wish she could take your pain on. 

Ah. But no. No even if it was possible you’d never allow that. You were the mom. YOU were supposed to take their pains on. 

And knowing that Cass never suffered on her periods as bad as you did, was enough. After all, your baby suffered enough in the past...She could get a little lucky, right ? 

“Momma.” 

That word was music to your hear. Cass’ first word to you. 

She didn’t need to talk anyway. Being here was enough...

It was more than enough. 

Damian 

Everyone who saw Damian around you would notice that he wasn’t quite the same boy than "normally”. 

He was calmer, nicer, and sweeter. 

You’d argue that it was his real self. That this was his “normal”. That he was just never allowed to show his true heart before, and wasn’t used to trust others and open up. And you were definitely more than happy that he finally managed to do that after arriving into your home. 

That none of you ever gave up on him. 

You especially had a calming effect on him. After all, he never had a “conventional” mom, who could take care of him when he was sick, kiss him good night and make sure he always had everything he needed. 

Some would say you coddled him too much...And you didn’t care. Because that boy lived 10 years being the opposite of coddled. So what, if you’d cut the crust off of his sandwiches, or read him bed time stories every single night ? 

Damian loved it. As he often said, being a momma’s boy was “hardly something he was ashamed of”. He never felt loved and safe before, you bet he’d take every chance he got to be cared for. 

He never got to act like an actual kid. You allowed him to do just that, AND you made him feel like he belonged. Finally. Like he had an actual family. 

So...The day he heard about your absolutely awful periods, what did he do ? 

Every single day of your life with him, you had at least one nice intention to him. Wether it was baking his favorite cookies, or telling him how proud you were of him, you always had nothing but kindness for him, often going out of your way for your son. 

It was normal for you. Of course. And you did it with all your children...but you had to admit maybe Damian had just a little more of it, because he really never had anything like that to him. 

And to him, it only felt normal then, when you felt at your worst, that he’d be there for you exactly like you were there for him. 

During any mood swings, he’d have comforting words for you. He had little attentions for you that just made life easier. 

Again, it would greatly surprise anyone but his family, but when you had your periods, he did a lot of overly sappy little things. 

Like for example : every month, he wrote seven things he found extraordinary about you and would put them in a jar. Seven. The number of day in a week. And usually the number of day, give or take, your periods would last. 

The jar would be sitting right on your bedside table on the first day, with the indications you had to read one paper every morning, or every time you felt down (it was supposed to be one paper a day). Sometimes, you’d go through his seven messages in less than a day...and magically, the next day, the jar would be filled again. 

Damian made sure of it. 

This was just a small example. But it showed exactly what kind of boy your son really was. 

If he was heartless, a killer, someone destined to destroy the World...would he really put that much effort into making you feel love ? Into making you feel better any way he could ? 

You didn’t think so. The only way your son could ever “turn bad”, was if you (and Bruce) stopped caring for him. Left him alone (A/N : this is a CLEAR jab at current comics canon, if you know what I mean :I ). Only if he felt abandoned, unloved, and rejected. 

You knew your boy had, just like you, “rejection dysphoria”. It was hard for him to accept any kind of rejection, and it made him act out and hurt. But that was another story... 

Right now, all that mattered to you, is that you knew your son was always going to be there for you, just like you’d always be there for him. 

That he finally learned how to love, and care. That he would never unlearn it, as long as you lived. 

Your periods sucked. 

So bad. 

But Damian was a ray of light in the darkness of those seven dreaded days...

Duke 

Duke’s mom also had endometriosis. 

Over the years, he perfected a “special remedy” he always made her when she had her periods. 

He hesitated to make it for you. After all, it was something that made him bond greatly with his own mom...was making it for you, now, acceptable ? Did it mean he forgot about his mother ? 

No. No of course not. 

Duke scolded himself for even thinking that. You too, became his mom. He learned over the years that it was ok, to have two mom. That when they’ll find a cure for his parents, it wouldn’t take away the years you filled in for the mother role, and took care of Duke as if he was your own. 

So here we go. 

Some ginger. Some lemon. A dash of his little secret ingredients. Your favorite blend of tea. And it was done. 

He brought it to you, saying it always soothed his mom...

And just that. 

Just those words. It meant so much. 

“It always used to soothe my mom. Used to do it all the time, ever since I was five !” 

He said with a smile. 

It was something he used to do for his mom, and now he did it for you. Just this. Just that fact, it was enough to make you feel better. 

It didn’t take away the pain, but mentally ? It felt amazing. 

You drunk his concoction and...Oh god. 

Oh god it was disgusting. And...Ah. Yes. His mom probably pretended she liked it. “Ever since I was five !”. Ha. So cute. But also, it really was gross. 

At the same time, you felt a pleasant warmth spread through your body as the terrible aftertaste slowly faded. Duke smiled to you, and with a little mischief in his voice said : 

“It’s really gross, isn’t it ? But it does the trick haha” 

There was a few seconds of silence. During which you blinked at him, not quite registering what he just said. Until... 

You burst out laughing. The little mischievous smile, and the way he said “it’s really gross, isn’t it ?” was just too funny. 

Your communicative laugh spread to Duke, and as he laughs it makes you laugh even louder too and...You forget. 

For a moment you forget about your periods. The pain. The anguish. The emotional labor. This damn week of hell. 

You forget.

And you just laugh. 

You laugh alongside your son. 

Thomas (if you wonder who the H is Thomas, you can check my “Batmom” masterlists, he appears from the story “the great mall adventure” ^^)

Thomas must’ve been about four, when he first saw you having your periods. 

Your littlest baby was also one of the most sensitive out of them all (right along with Jason, the two of them cried their eyes out when they watched “Inside Out” and Bing Bong disappeared). Bruce always said he took that after you. And honestly, you couldn’t disagree. It’s true you could be very sensitive. 

So one morning, when he woke up and went to breakfast and heard you weren’t feeling right, he immediately went to you and...

Bruce found him an hour later, crying in his room. 

“Oh wow hey hey, what is it buddy ?” 

He asked, trying to hide the panic in his voice. Thomas might’ve been sensitive, but he rarely cried. He was just a very empathetic boy. But also a cheerful one, and he had a knack to see the good even in the worst situations. 

So seeing him sob like that, made Bruce’s heart drop. 

“Is mommy going to die ?!” 

It took Bruce a few seconds to get a hold of his racing heart. His son crying. And asking if you were going to die. It shortcircuited his brain for a few seconds. Until he realized what Thomas was talking about...

“Oh, oh no champ, no, mommy isn’t going to die.” 

Your kids were used to see you strong and fierce. Of course the first time your little one would see you on your period, he’d think something big was wrong.

He had just recently learned what death really mean (you can read about this here : The day he understand what Death means), and since then was so scared it’d happen to his parents. Or his siblings. Or anyone he knew, really... 

Picking up his son and slowly and softly tapping his back in soothing circles, he walked around the room and rocked him until the boy calmed down a bit, before trying to explain as best he could why mommy felt bad, without going in in too many details. 

Once Thomas understood this was just like when he got a fever that time, that it would pass, he felt much better. But also worst. Because his mommy wasn’t feeling well ! And it happened often ! 

Bruce reassured him that there were ways they could help you...And soooo : 

Thomas brought you hot water bottles, with the help of his dad (the bottles were almost as big as him), and ended up falling asleep  on one as it laid on your belly (he heard that humans’ body heat was very strong and wanted to “help the hot water bottle”). 

The water in the bottle became cold, and you removed it..Your son didn’t woke up, so you laid him back down on your belly. And he was warm and so tiny, and you loved him so much...It made you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, to be surrounded by people like this little one. 

And all your kids. Alfred. Your friends. Broosh...You fell asleep with sweet dreams made of warmth and cuddles. 

Not long after, Bruce came by to check on you, finding both you and Tommy deeply asleep and...An overwhelming feeling of happiness took him over. 

You weren’t the only one feeling lucky. Except for Bruce...For Bruce it was even stronger, because after his parents died, he never thought he would be happy ever again. 

This was why he’d always be there for you. You gave him another family... 

His schedule was freed, and he had a busy day. A nap sounded perfect. Especially while nestled against you, with his little one right there. 

Dick came by in the afternoon, and found all of you like this. Bruce holding both you and his son, Thomas taking way more space than such a small body would make you thing he’d take. 

Dick snapped a picture, and send it to the group chat he had with his siblings and some other close friends and such (like Clark, Wally, Conner, Diana etc etc they used the group chat to gossip about Bruce, mainly). With the caption : “Big bad bat tamed by a four year old”. 

Cass send multiple hearteyes emojis. Jason said it was adorable and send a crying emoji, and didn’t care one bit what anyone would think of him saying such things. Damian yelled at Dick that he should’ve put the comforter back up on his baby brother and mom because it wasn’t properly put on !! Duke send a : “I’m downloading that picture for the next time he gets mad at us and we need to soften him up”. Tim replied with a gif of Maes Hughes from Full Metal Alchemist saying : “dis dad”. Clark said “they look so peaceful, you wouldn’t believe he threatened me just yesterday to punch me because I made a joke” to which Diana answered : “that joke was so bad I wanted to punch you to. Cute pic btw, give kisses to Tommy for me, you should come see me more, I just stocked my freezer with nothing but ice creams”..Everyone send a little comment about it. 

Because even superheroes, could have normal conversations about those they love. 

Suffering alone is a thing of the past

It’s funny. You couldn’t even remember, now, what it felt like “before”. 

Before. 

Before you met Bruce.

Before that first time he showed up to your apartment to take care of you. 

How were your periods before that ? The worst. 

Definitely. 

Actual Hell.

Not that they were feeling better now. Oh no. There were time your overdramatic self exclaimed : “uuuugh just kill me alreadyyyy” when the pain was too grand...But you weren’t alone anymore. 

That’s what made it a bearable moment of the month. 

It still felt as bad as it used to when you were younger. 

But it wasn’t just you agonizing in your bedroom all alone anymore. 

It wasn’t you wishing you’d have someone to take care of you, and to try and ease the pain. Not anymore. 

It wasn’t you crying with nobody to dry your tears anymore...

No. You had an entire army of people right there just for you. 

Alfred, your children, and most of all...Bruce. 

Your Broosh. 

Ah. If only some people could see this side of him you and your family knew. The caring and loving one. In a way though, it was rather comforting and made you feel special, that only you and your kiddos knew the real Bruce ? 

Of course  nowadays, some of his closest friends like Clark and Diana weren’t fooled anymore either. But they’d never see him the way you did, when you were in unbearable pain, and he was right there, drawing soothing circle on your back, keeping you warm and safe... 

This was only privy to you. 

Your Broosh. 

Yes. 

Your periods were still as painful as they used to. But now...

Now you weren’t alone anymore. 

The end. 

________________________________________________

Hey guys ! I hope you liked this :). As usual, feedbacks and reblogs are always welcomed ! (Especially lately, the reblog ratio seems at its worst haha). And again, I really hope you liked this. I was finally able to sit down and write after weeks of  being stuck in a depressed mood, so I’m quite excited about sharing this. But as usual, always a bit nervous that you’ll be disappointed blahblahblah low self-esteem and all that haha... :). I just hope this is to your liking. Thank you.  

[cherchersketch]

#CherCher reviews manhwa: the other one

I always aim to enjoy the manhwa I find, be it through favourite tropes or recommendations from others. But sometimes it just doesn’t work out. And it felt kind of weird to group these together in the recommendations list so I decided to make a separate one for those that I ended up not quite liking, or even DNF-ed.

Of course, preferences are subjective so what didn’t work out for me might not be the same for someone else. Honestly, sometimes I’ve found books I enjoy through other people’s DNFs. Also, sometimes certain series start out slow and get better later on so this is also for me to keep track of some I might want to go back to in the future. Maybe.

So this is the list of meh to total DNF.  

Here’s a list of some terms I use in these Please mute “manhwa live reactions” if you don’t want spoilers to the ongoing ones since I occasionally have to scream

The ones in italics are completed series. Yes, most of them are ongoing ;w;

It’s not bad if you’re bored and enjoy the tropes 50 Tea Recipes from the Duchess Bloody Sweet Devoted to Diamond Empress of Another World Follow the Bread Crumbs From Maid to Queen I choose the Emperor Ending I’ll Save this Damned Family I wasn’t the Cinderella Justice for the Villainess My Red String of Fate Princess of the Animals Sincerely, I became a Duke’s Maid The Demon Queen has a Death Wish The Destroyer fell in Love with Me The Emperor’s Mask The Male Lead’s Female Friend The Predator’s Fiancee The Remarried Empress The Villainess is Retiring

I totally DNF-ed these  Some might get a second attempt if I ever run out of other manhwa (lol) or if someone tells me a spoiler that compels me to pick up the title again. Many are totally not my thing, too boring or I read up on spoilers and I didn’t like where it was going/the ending. Not gonna even take the time to write a whole post for these so I’ll just hide them behind the cut.

A Match made in Mana Beatrice Crimson Karma Ironically, would have preferred this if they focused more on the FL’s character development and less on the romance, which felt a bit too forced and fast-paced. Wish it had developed better because I don’t mind the dynamic of the main pairing. Dragon Raising Manual I actually quite like the main pairing but didn’t really enjoy where the plot was going.  I don’t want to be a Lady I Stan the Prince I was the Real One Kill the Villainess I enjoy the isekaied-person-just-wants-to-unalive-to-escape premise but the actual plot was just really boring so I didn’t want to continue. Little Rabbit and the Big Bad Leopard Lucia Marriage and Sword Just got bored. My BFF is a Tyrant in Training It just...got really boring My Boyfriend is a God Read because it’s on Manta. ngl, kinda cringe instead of funny.  My Dear Maid! Another one from Manta. Got so bored and I have no interest in the main couple. From spoilers I’ve seen on Reddit, it got a really rushed ending after being cancelled so yikes. My Hubby is Too Cute! I don’t mind a cliche but it wasn’t interesting enough. Also the mature-brain-in-a-kid’s-body FL started drooling over the ML’s dad abs and like that’s a nope from me dawg.  No More Nice Sis No More Turning a Blind Eye Love a good revenge-on-the-cheating-husband plot but, again, boring, and kind of dumb Side Characters Deserve Love Too The Duke of Ashleyan’s Contractual Marriage The Evil Cinderella needs a Villain [ complete] From what I remember, this was just dumb. And not in an entertaining way. The Fake Lady and her Rabbit Duke The Stereotypical Life of a Reincarnated Lady The Tyrant Husband has Changed The Tyrant’s Secret Secretary The Villainess Needs her Tyrant Once again, love a good revenge plot. But the 2 leads were crazy, not in a very attractive way, and even with the official translations I didn’t understand wtf they were thinking. Also the faces were just forever =.= Love a good yandere but this was just boring. When the Count’s Illegitimate Daughter gets Married Villainesses have more Fun

[rosiesung]

7 Days || Y.JW

for @geminirules "Just Friends" collab

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Pairing: Jungwon x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Friends to Lovers AU

Words: 3.63k

Warnings: Reader calls Jungwon a dick.

Synopsis: You are dared to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend Jungwon. Initially, you go through with the childish challenge, knowing it will be insignificant to your friendship. But as the days pass, you begin to realise your true feelings for him. Will your revelations ruin your friendship? Or will something beautiful blossom because of them?

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"I dare you to pretend like you're dating Jungwon for a whole week."

You looked at your best friend with wide eyes, a similar expression of surprise on his face. There was no way you were going to do that. It would be way too awkward.

"Come on y/n. Don't be a party pooper. It's not like you guys are going to fall in love."

Of course things wouldn't turn out that way. No matter what, nothing would change the way you saw Jungwon. He would always remain your best friend and nothing more.

Jungwon looked too embarrassed to say anything. Both of you knew it was just a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

"Fine. Starting tomorrow Jungwon's my unofficial-official boyfriend," you announced, linking your arm with his. Jungwon hid his face in his hands as everyone around you screamed and cheered. This was going to be one interesting week.

~

☀︎ DAY 1 ☀︎

Since you only had to put on a show in front of your friends, you figured the best thing to do would be to hang out with Jungwon in solitude. He didn't have a problem with your plan. You both had been having playdates together ever since you were three. He was comfortable being alone with you.

Both of you met at your secret spot. A small grove behind the schoolyard. It was a place the two of you had found while skipping classes one day. Ever since then, this was where you spent time together whenever you needed some peace and quiet.

"I can't believe you actually agreed to this," Jungwon said, mindlessly plucking the grass he laid on. You sighed, staring at the row of trees beyond. "A dare's a dare. Besides, we have nothing to worry about because we don't have feelings for each other."

Jungwon sat up. "You know that we can't avoid all of them for the entire week right? They're literally planning to hang out at the cafe just so they can see us in the act." He sounded worried. There was no need to be.

"Of course I know that. So what? We'll let them see what they want to. It's not like they're going to make us kiss or something. The most we'll do is feed each other and hold hands."

Unlike Jungwon, you had already thought everything out. You knew how far to go while respecting the boundaries of your friendship. All Jungwon had to do was trust you.

He cringed in disgust at your words. "You're going to pay for landing me in this mess. We've barely even started and I already feel so miserable."

You patted his shoulder, flashing him an assuring smile. "You're not alone in your miser mister. After this is over, I'll do all your homework for you."

Jungwon laughed. "Learn how to do your own first. Then you can come and ruin mine."

~

☀︎ DAY 2 ☀︎

As Jungwon had predicted, your friends called you out to the cafe. Both of you were supposed to show up together. Jungwon met you a block away from the cafe, looking incredibly reluctant. "Are you sure you want to do this," he asked, just about ready to turn back around.

There was a determined look in your eyes. "Remember when he had to play Hansel and Gretel's parents for that play we did in preschool?" Jungwon nodded. He could never forget that day. "If we managed to get through that, we can get through this without a problem."

That made sense. Appreciative of your pep talk, Jungwon took your hand and whisked you away to the cafe.

By the time you reached your destination, both your hands were sweaty. Jungwon was just as nervous as you were. Not only because you had to pretend like you were dating, but also because your friends weren't going to miss the opportunity to tease you.

Seeing you two enter hand in hand, everyone began hooting and cheering. Jungwon's cheeks flushed almost immediately. You had to drag him towards the table you were supposed to sit at. "It's nice to see you two arriving together," one of your friends said, making space for you.

Taking a seat, you watched in horror as they placed a glass of juice with two straws in front of you both. No one had to explain what its purpose was. You glanced at Jungwon whose eyes were fixated on the glass hesitantly.

"If we get this over with now we'll be at peace," you whispered, leaning forward to place one of the straws between your lips. You looked away when Jungwon did the same, feeling the heat in his face on your cheek. You were certain you had never downed a drink so fast in your life. It didn't take long for you to finish the contents of the glass, quickly sitting back up to catch your breath. Your friends couldn't seem to get enough of the event, laughing and clapping avidly.

"You guys are so cute," some said. "Both of you would make such a nice couple in reality," said others.

Sitting there amongst your terribly evil friends, you wondered how you were going to get through the next five days with Jungwon.

~

☀︎ DAY 3 ☀︎

Your friends had invited you to another escapade at the park. You couldn't tell what they had in plan this time but you were sure it wasn't going to be enjoyable. At least this time, you and Jungwon didn't have to show up hand in hand.

When you reached the park, Jungwon was already there. Your friends beckoned you over, making you stand next to him.

"Now that our subjects have arrived, here's your to-do list. First, remain holding hands the entire time we are here. Second, Jungwon, give y/n your jacket if she starts feeling cold. Third, walk her back home and make sure you give her a nice, sweet little kiss before she goes inside."

Jungwon let out a noise of surprise. He wanted to run as far as he could and never come back. Holding your hand was fine. He had gotten used to it because of the previous day. He didn't mind giving you his jacket, but you were already wearing one so he didn't see why he would find the need to. Jungwon could do many things. But kissing you was not one of them. It didn't matter if it was on your cheek, your forehead, or the back of your hand, because there was no way on earth that he would bring his lips anywhere near yours.

What neither of you realized was that your friends were willing to go to the farthest lengths to make sure you went through with their tasks. They made you two walk in front of them so that they could see your hands intertwined. When the sun went down and the air started getting colder, they made you take your jacket off so that Jungwon would be left with no choice but to give you his. Just when it seemed like your night of torture would come to an end, they even made you share a single cone of ice cream. When it was finally time to go home, two of your friends followed behind you to make sure that Jungwon did his bidding. It was awkward enough walking through your neighborhood hand in hand. Those who knew you cast looks of confusion and surprise upon you two. Eventually, you reached your doorstep. Jungwon let go of your hand, standing in front of you. He looked everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You glanced behind your shoulder, rolling your eyes when you saw your two friends filming you from behind your neighbor's car. They weren't even attempting to be discrete.

"Hurry up and kiss me already. This is too embarrassing," you urged, slapping Jungwon's arm. He sucked in a breath, pressing his lips in a thin line. "Do you think it's not for me? I mean, I'm the one who has to kiss you for heaven's sake."

"Stop pitying yourself and just get on with it. The longer we stand here the more reason they'll have to punish us tomorrow."

Jungwon stared at you long and hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, pressing his lips onto yours without a second thought. You froze, eyes going so wide they might have popped out of your head. Even though it was probably only for two seconds, it felt like an eternity. Time froze as you stood in the foreign feeling of his lips on yours. He pulled away almost immediately, skipping down your driveway as fast as he could with a short wave and 'good night'. Still stunned, you entered your home, breaking into a smile when you closed the door.

~

☀︎ DAY 4 ☀︎

The next day, Jungwon asked you to meet him at your secret spot. So far, your friends hadn't made any plans to get you together. You saw Jungwon sitting in the middle of the grove, laying down on the damp grass as he usually did. Walking over, you sat down beside him, flicking his forehead so that he would open his eyes.

He grinned on seeing you, sitting up with a soft groan. "So, how was your night?"

You furrowed your brows at the question. It wasn't like him to ask you things like that. But you decided to overlook it. Maybe he was still feeling a bit awkward after the kiss you both hard shared the previous night.

You shrugged. "It was fine. How was yours?"

"I couldn't sleep," he revealed. It sounded like he'd been dying to tell you. "Why's that," you asked, believing that you had an idea of the reason.

"Last night scarred me," Jungwon shared, pretending to gag. You didn't know why, but hearing him say that made your heart sink. Suddenly, you felt horrible. "Was it really that bad," you asked, genuinely curious to know what he thought of it. Jungwon nodded, making you feel even worse. "It was worse than I thought it would be," he added. Your eyes started stinging. A lump formed in your throat and the longer you held it back, the more it hurt. You knew you hadn't been eager to kiss him, but you would argue about how 'bad' it was. But bringing that up right now would just be stupid. Jungwon would misunderstand where you were coming for and that would just lead to another disaster entirely. You had told yourself that you weren't going to let this dare get to you, but four days in you were already slipping. The longer you sat there, listening to Jungwon whine and complain about everything he'd had to do with you so far, the harder it became to control your emotion. Not able to take it anymore, you got up abruptly and ran away, leaving Jungwon sitting there extremely puzzled.

~

☀︎ DAY 5 ☀︎

You didn't respond to any of Jungwon's calls or texts. You didn't have it in you to face him. He would be disappointed if he found out the real reason behind your sappy mood. So you were gonna wait till you got over it before facing him.

You still couldn't believe that you had been so affected by Jungwon saying that he hated the kiss. Despite telling yourself that you disliked it too, you couldn't help but think otherwise. There was something so magical about it. You had never felt that way because of a kiss before. Whenever you thought back to it, an exciting warmth rippled through your mind. Your heart danced in glee and a wide smile formed on your lips.

But you weren't supposed to feel that way. Jungwon was your best friend. Besides, he hadn't kissed you willingly. You didn't understand why it felt so special to you when it clearly meant nothing to him. You knew you couldn't blame him for that. His mind was wired to see you as nothing more than a friend. You found it hilarious. Here you were, realizing that you probably liked your best friend after having continuously assured yourself and him that something like that would never happen. The sad part was that Jungwon would never reciprocate your feelings. You were all alone in this.

A knock sounded at your window, startling you. Slipping out of your reverie, you glanced towards it, eyes widening in surprise when you saw Jungwon crouched before it. You didn't think twice before letting him in. He entered your room and stood in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You wanna explain what happened yesterday?"

You frowned and turned away shoulders slouching disinterestedly. "Is that what you came here for," you asked, regretting letting him in?

"Well did I have a choice? You've been blatantly ignoring me while all I've been trying to do is make sure you're alright," he said, stepping closer to you.

"I'm fine. If that's all you needed to hear, you can leave now," you replied. You didn't need him prying and prodding at you right now.

Jungwon stood his ground, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "No, you're not y/n. You aren't fine. Tell me what's bothering you."

You sighed and faced him. "Trust me, you wouldn't want to know."

Jungwon furrowed his brows. He didn't know what that meant. "I think I'll be the judge of that."

"It's you. You're bothering me," you spoke, narrowing your eyes at him. Jungwon hadn't been expecting that. But he didn't let the surprise show on his face. "What did I do?"

"You made me feel so worthless and undesirable. But that's not your fault. I can't blame you because you're right to think that way about me. I'm just pitying myself here and there's nothing you can do about it so please, just leave me alone." The tears were coming back again. You didn't want to break down in front of Jungwon. His face fell. He didn't know what to say to that. He thought you knew he was just being overdramatic. He seriously hadn't meant to hurt you. Before he could apologize, you turned to him. "I don't think I'll be good at keeping this a secret, so let me just tell you that I'm starting to catch feelings for you. If that makes you uncomfortable then you can leave. If you have something to say, just say it and go. But don't ask me why I feel the way I do because that's something I'm yet to figure out."

Jungwon was at a loss for words. He stood there, gaping at you like an open-mouthed fish before turning on his heel and exiting through your bedroom door. You heard your mother yelp on seeing him, probably wondering where he had shown up from. A part of you wished that he hadn't left, but the other was glad that he was gone. You felt like a fool for letting all of this happen. You should have never agreed to this dare. Who would have thought it would lead to something like this? There was nothing you could do now. There was no way you could change the way you felt. Because at the end of the day, it was as clear as ever, that you were undeniably in love with your best friend Yang Jungwon.

~

☀︎ DAY 6 ☀︎

Jungwon couldn't stop thinking about everything you had told him yesterday. He would never have imagined that you would catch feelings, especially through such a childish dare. Your friends had called you out to the park again today, but Jungwon wasn't going to go. He knew you wouldn't be there so there was no point. He wished he could tell you that he hadn't meant half the things he'd said about the kiss at the grove that day. He was just trying to show you that the kiss hadn't made him feel some type of way. Not just that, but he was also attempting to persuade himself that he indeed had loathed it. Maybe he should have been truthful instead of lying about it.

This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. Jungwon was always fond of you. He cared for you and he wouldn't lie when he said that he loved you. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he felt that way because he thought of you as more than a friend. Jungwon didn't want to convince himself that he liked you just because you had confessed to him. He wanted to understand the way he truly felt about you.

He knew every little thing about you. No one knew you as well as he did. Jungwon cherished your friendship and the time he spent with you. Whenever anything bugged him, he always came to you, knowing that you were the only person who could make things better. He relied on you more than anyone else. He couldn't go a day without speaking to you. After yesterday, he realized how important you were to him. The fear of losing you ate at him the longer he stayed away from you.

Jungwon hated knowing that you were sad. It hurt more to know that he was the reason behind it. He wanted nothing more than to hug you and apologize for making you feel bad. He felt guilty for everything he had done. It had only been a couple hours since he had last spoken to you, but it felt longer. He missed you so much.

So he left you a text, asking you to meet him at your secret spot. He kept his phone close, waiting till you replied. But you didn't. You probably wanted nothing to do with him. Nonetheless, he still hoped and prayed that you would give him one last chance to make things right again. He couldn't afford to lose someone as special as you. There was nothing for him if he didn't have you.

~

☀︎ DAY 7 ☀︎

Jungwon laid in the grass, staring at the dull sky above. It was filled with clouds, hiding the sun. The grove felt so big and endless when he was alone. When he was with you, it was much more cozy and bright, even if the atmosphere was gloomy.

He had been waiting for you for quite a long time now. You hadn't replied to his message last night, but he knew you had seen it. Just before he was about to lose hope, he heard the grass crunch a few feet away from him. Jungwon didn't have to look to know it was you. No one else knew the path to get here.

"What do you want," you asked, voice small but laced with malice. You were cross with him. Jungwon wished to change that today. He patted the space next to him. "Let's not pretend like we hate each other. You could do the worst thing to me but I'd still admire you."

You didn't argue and sat down beside him. Other than the tension in the air, everything felt normal. There was a scowl on your face. It must have taken a lot of convincing for you to come here. Jungwon needed to get to the point.

"I'm sorry about everything I said. I didn't even mean half of those things."

You scoffed. "Oh really? They sounded pretty heartfelt to me."

Jungwon sat up. "I was just trying to enforce the idea that I wasn't into you, on myself," he revealed, hoping that you would forgive him. "And being a dick was the only way you could do that? Jungwon, you weren't the only one who was attempting to suppress their feelings," you refuted.

"I know y/n. And it's my fault for not realizing sooner," he admitted, hanging his head. You sighed and shook your head. "This is so immature. I can't believe we're letting a stupid dare get in the middle of our friendship."

Jungwon chuckled darkly. "Maybe it's a sign that our friendship has run its course."

You turned to him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jungwon smiled. "I gave it some thought yesterday. We're both attempting to be in denial of our feelings. Obviously, that isn't working out. If it wasn't for this dare, they would've remained buried deep down somewhere. But I guess you could say everything happens for a reason." He took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. "I never realized how much I loved this feeling until I had to go a whole two days without it."

You couldn't even hide your smile. "Where is this going Jungwon?"

"Maybe we should give this a chance. Give us a chance. Who knows? It could turn out the be the best thing that's ever happened to us," he said, meeting your eyes.

"And what if it doesn't? We would be throwing so many years of friendship away."

Jungwon shook his head. "How long are we supposed to contradict how we truly feel about each other? That would take a heavier toll on us."

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "It doesn't hurt to try I guess."

Jungwon beamed. "That's the spirit!" It felt nice to see you smiling at him again. He was grateful for that. It was funny how a large part of his mood depended on you. If you were happy, he was happy. If you were sad, he was sad. His entire world revolved around you, and Jungwon knew the best thing to do was strengthen that bond.

"So, will you be my girlfriend," he asked, smiling cheekily. You bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. "Of course I will."

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this fic. Please let me know how you found it! Thank you so much!

[wonder-womans-ex]

When In Vegas

It was loud in the locker room the next morning, but Saint was quiet.

Three days had passed since someone else’s world had been turned upside down, and Saint wasn’t sure whether he was more angry or scared—or relieved that it hadn’t been him.

Those fucking pictures, god. He had stared for hours, maybe more, hands frozen around his phone. The knowledge was unbearable—someone had done this. Someone was out to get people like them.

People like him.

But, in a way, it was also liberating. If he had to guess, he would say that no one had known about Black and Lupin. Judging from the way Tremblay had acted at All-Stars, they probably hadn’t even told their team, and god knew Saint hadn’t told his.

So, really, who was to say he was the only one? Any of the guys here, unlacing their skates beside him, could have grown up amidst thoughts of don’t look and stay silent and focus on the hockey. Any of the guys here could have had boyfriends in high school or college. Any of them could still.

He reveled in the thought. Maybe he wasn’t alone.

Black. Lupin. Tweedle.

Three names on a list wasn’t many, but it was better than one.

Saint glanced up when he felt someone watching him. His eyes met a pair of gleaming yellow ones—before meeting Greyback, he hadn’t even known that eyes could be that colour—and he steeled himself, resolutely not looking away.

Greyback smiled, and Saint recoiled internally. If there were others on the team—others in the league—Greyback was certainly not one of them.

As if Saint would ever, in a million years, want him to be.

He pulled off his second skate with one good, sharp tug. His helmet sat on the bench beside him, and he rested one elbow on it briefly. It was common knowledge that playing professional hockey was difficult, but the thing most people didn’t know was how near-impossible it was just putting on and taking off the necessary gear.

Next, after his skates, were his shin pads—big, bulky things that got hot altogether much too quickly, but at least they protected his legs. Then his jersey, his shoulder pads, his pants, until he Saint could finally lift his undershirt over his head and make his way to the showers.

The warm water felt like bliss against his aching muscles, but a part of him still pleaded to skip this bit and head straight home. All he really wanted was to curl up in bed with a bowl of ramen—decidedly not on his diet plan, but, hey, a guy could dream—and an episode of Drag Race.

And, of course, Luke. But he wasn’t allowed to think about that. Not here.

Or maybe, he realized, mind darting back to pictures taken through the windshield of a car, he could.

He had just begun to put on a pair of jeans and a tank top—grey, with the Golden Knights logo on the front and his name and number on the back—when there came a shout from the other side of the locker room.

“Hey, Tweedle!”

It was Pettigrew, one of his teammates, brandishing a ring of keys in the air. “Need a ride?”

Saint forced a smile. “Nah; I’m good. My roommate’s picking me up. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Pettigrew smiled back. “All right. See you tomorrow, Tweedle.”

“Yeah,” said Saint as he turned back to his stall. “See you.”

He packed up his gear in a sort of half-trance, thinking less about where he was and more about where he was soon to be. Saint loved hockey, true, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t love other things, too.

Other people.

The army green jeep was already waiting for him outside. He glanced around briefly, scanning the parking lot for any of his teammates, then pulled open the passenger side door. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d checked to see if anyone was watching—it was, after all, nothing out of the ordinary: just a completely heterosexual hockey player getting into his completely heterosexual roommate’s car.

“Hey,” Saint said, meeting Luke’s gaze in the rearview mirror and grinning.

“Hey yourself,” Luke responded, a teasing tone to his voice. “How was practice?”

Saint just shrugged. “Same as always, I suppose. What are we having for dinner?”

Many things could be said for Luke Deveaux, and one of them was that he was a master of recognizing a subject change when he heard one. “Thought I’d finally cook up that chicken that’s been sitting in the freezer. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds fucking incredible. You really do know the way to a man’s heart.”

They smiled at each other again as Luke pulled out onto the main road—the soft kind of smile that said everything for them. Carefully, Saint reached out, resting a hand on Luke’s leg. The simple contact was really all they needed as they both looked back out to the road ahead, letting silence envelop them.

Finally, when they came to a stop at the second or third red light, Luke looked over. “What is it?” he asked quietly—genuinely, in a way only he could.

Saint made a noise of confusion. “What’s what?”

“You’re thinking.”

This time, Saint didn’t say anything for quite a while. He kept his eyes forward as the light turned green and Luke began to drive again. Eventually, just as Luke had begun to think that he wouldn’t get a response at all, Saint spoke up: “What if I introduced you to my teammates?”

Luke had a feeling he knew what Saint was getting at, but he wanted to be sure. “I’ve met a couple of them,” he said, slowly. “Pettigrew. Reaves. Dearborn. Greyback—though I didn’t like him much.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Saint said, and took a breath before continuing. “I meant like… what if I introduced you to them as my boyfriend?”

“Husband,” corrected Luke idly, jerking the wheel to the right.

“Right, yeah. But I’d still probably introduce you as my boyfriend, because, y’know—”

“Nineteen.”

“—Elvis.”

Another beat of silence. Another deep breath. “And I just thought—I was thinking that—that…”

Luke waited.

“Obviously I wouldn’t want to come out to the whole world. Not yet,” said Saint, starting again, “but… you know. People know about Black and Lupin—though they didn’t get to tell people; people were told for them. And if I said something, maybe… maybe, if there are others, they’d know… they’d know they aren’t alone.”

It was Saint’s turn to wait, now, as Luke took a left onto a side street and narrowly missed the curb. He swallowed back the slight lump in his throat—he’d said his bit; now it was time for Luke to say his.

“I love you.” Luke’s words were hushed, and, yeah, it was always nice to get reassurance, but that didn’t really clear anything up.

“I love you, too.”

“And I—” Luke sighed. “Can I have a little while? To think about it? Or, rather, not to think about it, but to think about how I’m going to say it.”

Tilting his head, Saint looked thoughtfully over at the man in the driver’s seat. “Yeah. Yeah; of course. Take all the time you need. It was just something I was thinking about.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it for a while.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, if the better part of three days counts as ‘a while,’ then, yeah; I guess. Consciously, at least. Subconsciously… maybe longer.” He shrugged. “Who knows. All I do know is that I’m absolutely crazy for you, and I’d like someone who isn’t us or the guy who officiated our wedding to know that.”

“Especially because he almost definitely doesn’t remember either of us anymore.”

“Exactly.”

This next pause was different from the previous ones—more pause-like, though that didn’t make sense, even in Saint’s head.

“It’s like,” said Luke, thoughtfully, as he turned onto their street, “remember when we got married? And neither of us said anything about it for almost a month?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember why?”

“Um, because typically you don’t get married to someone you’ve only been dating for a week and a half?”

The car slowed to a stop in front of their house. Luke pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back in his seat. “Bingo.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Saint asked, tentatively, “And, uh, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s like that, because I could only see that going one of two ways: either we stayed in a marriage neither of us was ready for, or we ended both the marriage and the relationship. And so, of course, the solution my nineteen-year-old and slightly stupid self came up with was to ignore the situation entirely. You can’t annul a marriage that you don’t acknowledge exists, right?”

Saint furrowed his brow. “But… we didn’t annul the marriage.”

“Exactly.”

“...I think you’ve lost me.”

“Yeah; probably.” Luke sighed “I’m going about this all wrong. I suppose the thing I keep getting stuck on is that it would make everything more difficult if—you know.”

“No,” Saint said, “I don’t know.”

“If we broke up.” It all came out in one breath, and Luke looked anywhere but at Saint while he said.

Suddenly, Saint found it difficult to breath. “You—you think we’re going to break up?”

“No. No; god, of course not. It’s just one of those irrational fears; yeah? Like, you know the elevator isn’t going to break and send you falling to your death like Tower of Terror, but you still worry about it.”

“Not quite sure I follow.” Saint waited a moment, then added, “So… I take it you aren’t planning on breaking up with me?”

“Nope.” Luke smiled as he said it, popping the p. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”

“A lot longer, hopefully.”

“Amen to that,” said Saint, then reached to unlock the car door.

“Wait,” Luke said quietly. “I’m… there’s something else.”

Saint turned back, letting go of the door handle. “Yeah?”

“I—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What was it?”

“I just—it’s been five years—or it will have been in a week, technically, but still—and… and I guess I was wondering if you… might like to do it again. That. Without Elvis, this time.”

“What, get married?”

Luke took a breath. “Yeah.”

“Again?”

“Jesus Christ, Saint; weren’t you listening to anything I just said? It doesn’t matter, anyway. Just—forget I said anything.” Now it was Luke’s turn to begin to open the car door, a rush of cold air seeping in through the gap.

“Wait—Tweedle—”

Luke paused. Saint didn’t often call him that, and, even when he did, usually when he was trying to be serious. It was something Saint would say when they were fighting—it was his way of saying I love you; I don’t regret being with you. It was not something Saint would say to someone he didn’t want to be married to.

“Yeah?” Luke didn’t look over—he kept his gaze on the sliver of pavement he could see in the space between the door and the rest of the car—but he could imagine the look on Saint’s face.

“I want to.”

“What?” He knew what Saint had said. He wasn’t asking for clarification. He was giving Saint one last chance to change his mind, and hoping desperately that Saint wouldn’t take it.

“I want to marry you. Fucking hell, of course I want to marry you. Again. Preferably sober this time. Definitely without Elvis.”

A noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped Luke’s lips. “Is that your way of proposing?”

“Actually, I think it was my way of accepting your proposal. And, either way, it was better than last time, when I think I just stuck my hand up your shirt and called it a day.”

This time, Luke really did laugh. “And they say romance is dead.”

“No kidding.” A pause, then, “Do you still have your ring?”

“Do I still have my—what kind of a question is that? Of course I do! I—” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “Why? Do you still have yours?”

Saint looked down, avoiding Luke's eyes. His hand went to his neck, where he pulled out a thin gold chain. On it hung the ring Luke had given him so long ago: slightly battered and riddled with notches, but in a way better than it was when they had exchanged them all those years ago, giggling on the alcohol. "Of course I do." His voice was soft—almost timid. "I'm not sure I could have gotten rid of it if I wanted to."

Luke let himself smile. “I wear mine, sometimes, you know,” he said, in a voice nearly as gentle. “When you’re not around.”

“Yeah. I—I do, too.”

“I love you.”

Saint didn’t even think before he did it. He knew, somewhere, that it was a terrible idea—that this was exactly where Black and Lupin had gone wrong—but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Luke was his husband, goddammit, and if he wanted to lean across the console and kiss him until he forgot his own name, then nothing in the world was stopping him.

Well. Nothing except his seatbelt, and even that only took him a few brief moments to discard. Then he was turning in his seat and reaching out and cupping Luke’s cheek in the palm of his hand and whispering “I love you, too,” against his lips.

"God," Saint said, pulling away. "How could I ever have stopped."

Luke quietly laughed, pulling himself away from Saint's lips. "I don't know, love; it could have been you withdrawing yourself from me. It… it almost made me think you—well, not hated me, but at least that you regretted ever getting married."

Saint made a small sound, as if Luke's words were paining him. "I would never." His eyes were starting to water. "I could never. Sure, we were too young; sure, we were drunk. Sure, it was stupid. But it was the best mistake of my life."

Another laugh, this one slightly louder. “Best mistake of mine, too.”

Luke leaned in for another kiss. “Wait,” said Saint, ignoring the noise of protest he got in return. “I have to…”

Saint reached around the back of his neck, sighing in frustration as he fiddled clumsily with the clasp of his necklace. It took him a good ten seconds, but finally he was able to lift it off and slide the ring into the palm of his hand.

The thin gold band fit perfectly around his finger—the weight was familiar; the cheap metal had already been warmed by his body heat, almost as if he had never taken it off.

“People—” Luke cleared his throat. “People will ask questions.”

“I know.”

“And what—what will—”

“What will my answer be?”

“...Yeah.”

“Sweetheart,” murmured Saint, leaning in to brush their noses together, “there’s only ever been one answer.”

“And what’s that?” At this point, Luke was just playing along—and they both knew it.

“You.”

.

amazing characters by @lumosinlove

thank you so much to @im-oknutzy-trash for being my #1 supporter while I tried to get the words to work (and letting me use some of their words when mine inevitably didn't)

note: this is based off that one ask hazel received literal months ago about how if saint were in SW he'd be on the golden knights bc he looks good in gold. no one else seems to remember it, however, so maybe I imagined it. who knows.

and, yes, Saint's last name in this is Tweedle.

[whateverthedragonswant]

I have had this sitting in my drafts for so long and I was going to just delete it when going through the list to close things up today, but then I realized this is an important point especially when it comes to the topics of Destiel and Buddie.

Putting it all under the cut. It goes without saying, if you don't like, don't read.

This is just a personal pet peeve of mine but it absolutely irks me when I see people go out of their way to point out to others that a relationship can't happen because of one of the character's supposed sexual orientation (or both).

For example:

Not only is this person completely incorrect (see the breakdown of what is actually canon for Destiel here, plus I'll say it again, if it's brought to the characters' attention and part of the official story, it's canon) but of course Dean's purported sexuality is their default setting that they go to in order to make what they view as their successful argument. (spoiler alert: it's not) Completely missing the point that while Cas' romantic confession was confirmed by the actor as Cas' sexuality being confirmed (while this is great for representation and it's a win, technically Cas is a non-binary angel in a male presenting body), the actual moment in the episode had nothing to do with anything sexual at all. Cas loves Dean. It has nothing to do with Dean's sexual orientation, regardless of any response he might have given. It is a purely romantic moment. These idiots (above) don't seem to grasp the concept that romantic orientations and sexual orientations are two very different things and don't always go hand in hand. But I'm starting to digress, so I'll get to my main points.

First of all, visual media is a form of art and art is meant to be subjective when read/interpreted/viewed. Not everyone will see the same thing, and that is okay. So to go out of your way to invalidate someone's read of a character's sexuality or romantic orientation doesn't make you look smart, it just makes you look like an intolerant ass. So stop doing it. You're entitled to your opinion, but stop invalidating other people's viewpoints.

Secondly, wtf do sexual orientations have to do with romantic orientations or even someone's love for someone else? Yes, we have labels, but that doesn't always mean that once that box is checked that we're not allowed to make our own rules about how we live our lives, or to change our minds. Sexuality is fluid. As are romantic orientations. Remember that.

Thirdly, I think you need to ask yourselves (meaning the haters), why does this character or relationship being portrayed in this dynamic (i.e romantic) and/or orientation bother you so much that you feel the need to go out of your way to invalidate others seeing it that way? So much so that you will spend most of your free time if not all of it purposely going into the tags on this site (or on YouTube video comment sections or Twitter feeds) to look for this character's/ship's content and not only start ridiculous arguments about it but actively seek out to invalidate those people's readings/interpretation/desire for representation for themselves and others they know? So much that if an actor playing one of these characters or crew or writers or showrunner either confirms or denies anything in regards to this character/ship and this topic, that you immediately feel the need to attack full force and hurl hatred and insults at them? You really need to take a good look deep within as to why Dean possibly being bisexual or Buddie going canon or an older woman with a younger (but age appropriate) man (i.e. Caryl) bothers you so much.

Fourthly, stop. Just stop. No one needs that shit and you should just go troll somewhere else (or preferably don't troll at all). Regardless of how hard you "stan" or how rigorously you defend your viewpoint, it won't change what the show intends to do with the story (Buddie specifically). You can keep your viewpoints, share them (respectfully), but ultimately you do not decide where the story of the shows go; the writers do. So knock it off. Seriously.

And based on this conversation I had last night with my friend, I think I finally figured out why certain people go apeshit when it comes to these relationships possibly turning romantic, sexual, or both (besides blatant homophobia where that's concerned): self-inserts. Because if you think about it, most of the bullying and harassment and hatred and name-calling and all that shit comes from women. Not to say that there aren't men out there who state their opinions at times on these ships and loudly, but they really are the minority when it comes to this crap. And that's because of self-inserts. They fantasize about one of the characters or both (in certain situations). Either it's about a character they fantasize about or they place themselves within the role of the other character (i.e. Hermione, Sansa, Bella, etc.) and what they consider to be a threat (in the form of another character let's say or relationship forming), they immediately seek to invalidate, eradicate, and gatekeep that character(s).

I'll use some popular examples of ship wars to illustrate my point:

Caryl vs Donnie - who does this ship center around? Daryl.

Clexa vs Bellarke - centers around: Clarke.

Dramione vs Romione vs Harmione - centers around: Hermione.

Team Edward (Belward) vs Team Jacob (Jakella) - centers around the biggest self-insert going: Bella.

BuckTaylor vs Buddie - centers around: Buck.

BuckAbby vs Buddie - centers around: Buck.

EddieAna vs Buddie - centers around: Eddie.

Jonerys vs Jonsa - centers around: Jon.

Daensa vs Jonerys - centers around: Dany.

Destiel vs Wincest - centers around: Dean.

Sam (with literally anyone else) vs Wincest - centers around: Sam.

Can you see where I'm going with this? While some of these people may genuinely love one of these characters (or both) for themselves and feel protective of them (i.e. wanting Dean to live and be happy; wanting Eddie and Buck to both be happy; wanting Dany to live; wanting Bella to have the best of both worlds, etc.), the others take it to an extreme and that's where these bullying and invalidation tactics come in.

This isn't to nullify any conversation on any character's supposed sexual and/or romantic orientations and the kernel of homophobia that is always present (from certain sections of the audience) when it comes to queer coded relationships whether they've gone canon on screen (or in the books) or not. That all is very much still a legit point of concern (and I always say the people that are homophobic, that are indeed bothered by two men loving each other as more than friends, or two women dating, so much so that they attack and invalidate and bully and name-call need to do some serious self-reflection).

But it does make a bit more sense considering all the bullying and hatred that is spewed at Destiel fans, Buddie fans, Jonsa fans, Caryl fans, Jakella fans, Bellarke fans, etc. It's the self-insert problem.

And tbf, there's nothing wrong with self-insert itself as a practice. There are tons of well written Dean x Reader, Bucky x Reader, etc fanfics out there. It's a practice that some writers use (as we see with Stephenie Meyer as Bella in The Twilight Saga & J.K. Rowling as Hermione & Ron as her husband in Harry Potter) to create stories. But it's when it's taken to the extreme that it becomes a problem, when someone who wants to keep, say Dean or Sam, for themselves and turns that blurred line between fiction and reality into an excuse to hurl hatred and viciousness at someone who ships one of them with a different character which may or may not suggest a different sexual or romantic orientation compared to the one the character would need to have (in their minds) in order to engage with this fan this way in their fantasies.

And also tbf, there are some people out there who genuinely don't like the pairings or the characters that would be paired with their favorite/comfort characters. Some people don't genuinely like Cas. Some people genuinely don't like Eddie. Some people genuinely don't like Bellamy or Jacob or Ron or Carol. And who they feel these characters are to their faves. And that's okay. It's the bullying and invalidating if someone sees it differently than they do that is not.

So my whole long point is if you don't care for the ships and/or one or both characters of the ships, then fine. But stop going around bullying and invalidating and attempting to gaslight others who do care for them. You are incredibly wrong to do that and it certainly shows a lot about you as a person if you continue to. If you want to make a respectful and civilized point/debate about how you don't feel the writers of 9-1-1 are going to make Buddie canon for example or how you don't view Cas' confession as romantic, then by all means, express that opinion (again, respectfully). But if you're just jumping onto the ship tags to shit all over people who ship (and create content for) Destiel or Buddie or Daensa or any ships that you yourself don't consider to be canon simply because the idea of two men kissing each other (or two women) makes you uncomfortable or it somehow ruins your self-insert fantasy with one or both of those characters, then you seriously need to stop and check your repulsive vitriol at the door. Your hate is not warranted and it never will be. Just go enjoy the characters and ships you do and leave others to enjoy theirs in peace.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. ✌️

[missjanjie]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You | Rosnali

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make. Ship: Rosnali Word Count: 2174 Rating: T

ao3 | ko-fi

Bonus: Denali's Playlist for Rosé

-

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “...you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[darling-i-read-it]

And the Woman Clothed With the Sun...

3x09

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, nightmares, talk of children and having them 

Author’s Note: I really really liked this episode. I love playing with dynamics SO MUCH. I hope you guys like this? 

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary: As the search for Francis Dolarhyde (Richard Armitage) continues, Will starts imagining himself in Dolarhyde's tormented psyche -- and asks Hannibal for help with the serial killer's profile; a new woman (Rutina Wesley) enters Dolarhyde's life.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​

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“That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court,” Hannibal said. He turned around slowly, acting as though he were not surprised to see you and Will together. The thin line of glass between the two of you Hannibal seemed so thick.

The truth was, you had never truly gotten over Hannibal. You had pretended to, for the sake of Will, but you had never really stopped thinking about what he could be doing. There was a link that the three of you had with each other that was unexplainable. You had started a new life. But your old one still called your name. 

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” Will said simply. He was contained. You fed off of his energy to keep yourself in check as well. 

“Hello, Will. Y/N.” He stepped closer to the two of you. “I believe congratulations are in order. I apologize I couldn’t make it to the wedding. Alana gave me some pictures, to taunt me presumably.” You smiled. You thought about Hannibal holding the pictures of you and Will laughing, beaming at each other. “Did you get my note?” You nodded. 

“We got it. Thank you,” you said simply. You and Will stood close together. He had his coat draped over his arm and you held the papers from the cases. 

“Did you read it before you destroyed it? Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?” Hannibal asked. You scoffed a bit.

“We read it. Then he burned it,” you promised. He nodded. 

“And you came anyway.” Hannibal eyed you. “I’m surprised you let that happen.” 

“We all falter in some ways,” you said simply. 

“I want you to help me, Dr. Lecter,” Will said to break the conversation. He still didn't trust Hannibal with you. Reminiscent of the days you used to work with Hannibal.

“Yes I thought so. Are we no longer on a first-name basis?” Hannibal asked. 

“I’m more comfortable the less personal we are,” Will said. Hannibal looked over at you, eyeing your entire body. He made note of the scent. The scent off of both of you. 

“Your hands are rough Will. I smell dogs and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion.” He looked at you. “Did you steal that perfume from my home?” he questioned. You stiffened. You had gotten some perfume from his home as they cleaned it out. You ended up liking and buying another bottle over the years.

“I’m here about Chicago and Buffalo. You’ve read about it, I’m sure,” Will said. 

“I’ve read the papers. I can’t clip them. They won’t let me have scissors, of course. You want to know how he’s choosing them,” Hannibal commented. You held up the case file. 

“Thought you might have some ideas.” 

“You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself Will? Or your wife?” Will let out a sigh. 

“I expected more of you, doctor. That routine is old hat.” Hannibal nodded stiffly.

“Whereas you are new people,” Hannibal said. “Let me have the file. An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.” You nodded happily at that, pleased he would help. You shoved the file through the document tray and into the cell. Hannibal came close to collect it. 

“Thank you,” Will muttered.

“Family values may have declined over the last century, but we still help our families when we can.” He took the papers. “You’re both family.” 

Will grabbed you around the waist, eager to leave. Your eyes lingered on Hannibal’s for a moment longer before you and Will left the room, swallowing his true words. 

-

You looked around Alana’s office. You hadn’t seen it since she had moved in. It looked better than when Chilton had run it. Perhaps that was just because you liked Alana more. The problems you once had with each other had mostly scabbed over. She was maid of honor at your wedding. Interesting, considering the fact you had once fought feverishly over Hannibal.

“It’s good to see you looking well. But I can’t help wishing you weren’t here,” Alana said. She sat on her couch. Her suit was pristine, her hair perfect. You admired her. 

“You aren’t the only one,” you commented. 

“I was surprised Jack came back in one piece,” she said. You nodded, running a hand over your pants before sitting down on the couch beside her. Will stood up, looking out the window. 

“You weren’t the only one,” Will said, turning to both of you. 

“How did it feel to see him again?” she questioned. You looked at the ground. Will sat down beside you, in between you and Alana. 

“Like Hannibal was looking through to the back of my skull. Felt like a fly flitting around in there. I had the absurd feeling that he walked out with me. Had to stop outside the doors and look around, make sure it was just Y/N,” Will commented. 

“I know that feeling. At least Jack Crawford’s pleased.” You pursed your lips but stayed quiet. 

“He showed me pictures of the families. I looked at Y/N and couldn’t say no,” he argued.

“Damn my presence,” you joked softly. Will slung his arm around the couch behind you, his fingered brushing your shoulder. 

“And Jack was counting on it.” 

“Are you still with Margot?” you asked, eager to change the subject. She took a deep breath and nodded, thinking fondly of her wife. 

“Yes. We have a baby. A Verger baby. A son,” she said. You smiled. You and Will had talked about kids. You wanted one. You were working for one when Jack spiked both yours and Will’s stress levels. 

“Good for Margot,” Will said.

“Good for me. I carried him. He’s my son. He’s the Verger heir.” You smiled. 

“Then what are you doing here? You’re set for life,” you pointed out. 

“There are only five doors between Hannibal and the outside. And I have the keys to every one of them,” she said. A daily ‘gotcha’ to Hannibal. Will admired that. “Hannibal has never been great with boundaries. ‘He who sups with the Devil needs a long spoon’.” 

“I am not letting him in, Alana. Don’t worry about me,” Will said. She looked at you sympathetically. 

“Last time, it didn't’ end with you Will.” 

-

“I want you to stay here,” Will said, standing outside Hannibal’s cell door. He hadn’t stepped inside yet. Hannibal could not see him. You scoffed.

“We’ve been over this. I follow you, even if you say no.”

“This time, I mean it. I think I’ll get more out of him if he isn't’ distracted with you.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you aren’t jealous?” He gave you a look. “Fine, fine. Please be quick.” 

Will stepped into the room, leaving you outside to wait. Hannibal looked up at him from his desk.

“This is a very shy boy, Will. I’d love to meet him,” Hannibal said. He looked around. “Just us?” 

Will nodded.

“Just us.” 

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s disfigured? Or that he may believe he’s disfigured?” Hannibal asked. 

“That’s interesting.”

“That’s not interesting. You thought of that before.” Will nodded. 

“He smashed all the mirrors in the houses, not just enough to get the pieces he wanted. The shards are set so he can see himself. In their eyes. Mrs. Jacobi and Mrs. Leeds. And their families,” Will said. Hannibal pulled out the picture of a dead Mrs. Jacobi. 

“Could you see yourself in their eyes, Will? Killing them all?” 

Will instantly regretted leaving you outside. 

The two boys imagined themselves in the crime scenes, looking across the dead bodies of the families. 

“The first small bond to the killer itches and stings like a leech,” Hanibal said. “Like you, Will, he needs a family to escape what’s inside him.” Wills head shot up but he did not look at Hannibal. “You know a fair amount about how these families died. How they lived is how he chooses them.”

“How is he choosing them?” Will asked.

“I was surprised to hear you actually married Y/N. Not because I thought you weren’t a match made in heaven but it made more sense for you to start a family from scratch. No one that had even an inkling of me in their eyes. Find a mom with a stepson or daughter, not having to breed. You know better than to pass the terrible traits that you fear the most,” Hannibal said. Will did not look at him. Hannibal continued. “But Y/N wants children with you. How will you stand to look at a child you may have ruined before they were even born?” 

Will desperately wished he hadn’t left you outside. 

“Why are there no descriptions of the grounds? I see floor plans, diagrams of the rooms where the deaths occured, no mention of the grounds. What were the yards like?” Hannibal continued, satisfied with how he had shaken Will’s personal life. 

“Big, fenced, with trees. Why?” 

“If this pilgrim feels a special relationship with the moon, he might like to go outside and look at it before he tidies himself up. If one were nude, say, it would be better to have outdoor privacy for that sort of thing. One must show some consideration for the neighbors, hmmm? Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?” 

Will suddenly saw himself in place of the killer, naked, drenched in pitch black blood. 

Will snapped back and nodded quickly.

“Thank you Dr. Lecter,” he said before stumbling out of the door. You sat on the outside in one of the waiting chairs. Will looked over at you and seemed to relax but not completely. 

“Will?” 

He grabbed you and you stood up quickly, hugging him tightly. He buried his head in your neck and you let him, rubbing your back.

“This is why you don’t go without me places,” you muttered. He scoffed but his breathing was already evening again. “What did he say?” He moved back and shook his head softly.

“We’ll talk about it later. I want to see the backyards.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, I suppose.” 

He walked out of the asylum, holding your hand tightly. Freddie snapped a couple pictures from the bushes.

-

“Have you come to wag your finger?” Hannibal asked as Alana entered the room behind him. 

“I love a good finger-wagging.”

“Yes, you do. How is Margot?” Alana ignored the remake as she gleaned down at the picture of her as Botticelli’s Fortitude.

“Your cogs are turning, Hannibal. I can hear them clicking.”

“Click, click, click, boom,” he whispered. 

“I don’t know what you’re planning with the Grahams. But you’re planning something. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ve already cracked the lid, can’t resist peeling it back.” 

Hannibal pursed at the name. Alana noticed this. 

“You can’t comment on her last name anymore you know. They’re married. She is, in the eyes of the law, a Graham now.” Hannibal stiffened.

“They came to me,” Hannibal said, ignoring her words.

“Yes, they did.” 

“I advised them against it.”

“I’m sure.” 

“Are you suggesting I don’t have Y/N and Will’s best interests in mind?” he asked. Alana scoffed.

“I’m stating it as a fact.”

-

You stepped into the room with Hannibal’s cage. He looked up, quite surprised to see you. You held your purse in both hands, stepping closer to the cage. 

“Hello love,” he said quietly. You let his words fall off of you like rain. They stayed for a moment, dripping down your arm before hitting the ground. “I don’t imagine you’re here to talk about the murder cases.” You shook your head softly. He walked up to the glass quietly. You stepped close to it, so you were really only a couple of inches apart. 

“I came to yell at you,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever for?” You smiled gently and shrugged.

“Lots of things. Firstly, you didn’t kill Jack when you got the chance. I’ll never forgive you for not feeding him to me in soup.” His eyes went wide.

“Careful Y/N. Alana watches these tapes.” 

“She would probably agree with me.” You took a deep breath. “Secondly, not coming to my wedding. I know you were otherwise indisposed but I thought it was rather rude.” 

“I thought it was rude of you to get married.” You shook your head playfully. The same banter. Joking with a cannibal serial killer. Just another Tuesday.

“Third, I told you to leave.” The air seemed to calm. 

“Does Will know you’re here?” 

“No. I didn’t tell him.” 

“Did he tell you he’s scared of his own children?” You raised a finger, shaking it gently. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Will is no longer my boyfriend I dated a couple of months. He’s my husband. You can’t wedge yourself between us no matter how hard you try.” You wanted to put your hand against the glass but you didn’t. “But I miss you.”

“Where do you work nowadays?” You shrugged.

“I had to get another secretary job but I’ve mostly worked up enough to take this amount of leave. My last employer wasn’t exactly the best reference.” He laughed. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He paused. “Eating well?” 

“Better. No people in the diet these days.” 

“Pity.” 

-

“Will!” You broke Will out of his thoughts. You were standing in the back of the Jacobi house. Will had just found a small sign on one of the trees. He was about to get into it but you had broken him out of his mind. “It’s Freddie.” 

Will walked out from the trees and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Now are you just keeping America clean or is that evidence?” Freddie asked. 

“You’re trespassing, Freddie,” Will said sternly.

“I was trespassing before the blood dried.  When did they call you? Interesting to see The Bloody Valentines back at action. Beautiful ceremony by the way.”

“We aren’t talking to you,” Will said, grabbing your arm. You followed him.

“We’re co conspirators, Will. I did for you and your cause.”

“You didn’t die enough. You came into my hospital room while I was asleep. You flipped back the sheets and shot a picture of my temporary colostomy bag,” Will said, turning to her. 

  “Covered your junk with a black box. A big black box. You’re welcome,” she said.

“Justly so,” you argued carefully. 

“You culled us the ‘murder threesome’. Little crude, don't you think?” 

“You did run off to Europe together. Doesn’t help that the two of you ended up getting married. How does the Tooth Fairy compare to Hannibal Lecter? Haven’t seen anything like this since the Massacre at Muskrat Farm. Funny thing about that massacre. Not only did Dr. Bloom survived, she got rich. Lecter’s living in the lap under her care. What kind of arrangement you suppose they have?” Freddie asked. 

“A complicated one,” you said sternly. 

“Couldn’t be more complicated than your relationship with Hannibal. Both of you. You paid him a visit? Before you lie, know that I know that you did,” she said quickly.

“Good-bye Freddie.”

-

“I read your note before my office forwarded it to the Grahams,” Jack said, standing in front of Will. Hannibal swallowed, understanding. 

“To whet their appetite or yours? You’ve placed him back in the pot and you’re letting him cook.”

“We’re all in this stew together.” 

“Arguable considering how close Y/N is to drowning you.” 

-

You stepped into the hotel room where Will was already sitting on the bed. You ran a hand through your hair and let the chilly cold wash over you as you entered the warm room. 

“How are the dogs?” he asked.

“Good. The dog sitters said they were missing us but other than that, they’re okay,” you promised. You looked down at the dog that was laying on the ground beside the bed. “She’ll be right at home with them.” 

You sat on the bed and Will sat up, putting his arms around you from behind. You smiled about him, happy to see he was feeling better.

“I’m worried about the kids,” he whispered.

“The kids who don’t exist?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah. I don’t want them to end up like me.” You nodded slowly.

“So that’s what Hannibal said that got you worked up.” You took in the information. “If the kid isn’t like you I don’t think I’d be able to love them as much as I love you.” 

It was his turn to take in the information. 

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. I’m serious. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I’ve had the pleasure of loving you Mr. Graham.” He kissed your neck gently and smiled to himself. 

“I love you too Mrs. Graham.”

You let out a small sigh of relief. 

 -

Will screamed as he sat up quickly, sweating aggressively, blankets flying. You got up just as quickly, turning to him but he had already gotten up, rushing into the bathroom. You followed him, sleep that had just taken you over long gone. 

You practically ran up to him. He was looking at himself in the mirror, fear in his eyes at his reflection. You grabbed him quickly and he turned to you, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t speak. You didn’t ask questions. You just held him as close as you could get him.

Nightmares had come back. Neither of you had had those in a while. You rubbed his back and let him breath. 

3x10

[saigokuweek]

Saigoku Week info, but better

Hello hello everyone! I know it’s been quiet for a good while, but rest assured this event is still going on!

Of course things are always subject to change, but here are the official rules + a new prompt list.

That’s right, instead of just one day for each prompt set, you get three! Meaning you have extra breathing room for any heftier content you might be creating (like fanfics, more elaborate drawings, etc.)

A countdown will start on September 1st, so if you’d like to use that time to get a head start on creating stuff, you can.

And of course, make sure to @ this account and tag your entries with #saigokuweek / #saigokuweek2021 so I can see it!

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FTLOAP: Chapter 50: Just One Chance, Just One Breath

For The Love Of A Princess Masterpost

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AN:

! 3 YEARS! !

Today (April 3rd), it's been three years since I posted the prologue to this story. Meeting this anniversary served as a great deadline for me to finally finish editing this chapter.

Also, I can't believe it's really been that long! I never planned for this story to grow so big or to only write so little for it. But I'm going to power through, I still love this story very much.

I want to apologise it again took so long. January and February were bad for me, mentally, and I barely had enough energy to get through the day, let alone do just about anything in addition. Even the 'short' one-shots I posted in this time took me weeks to write instead of the usual one or two days. And I can't predict how long the next update might take, life is just chaos these days.

Now to this chapter. Finally, things are happening! I'm very excited about this chapter and the following event, and about your reactions, too.

This chapter's title comes from the song Far Away by Nickleback. It's one of my favourite songs all around, and the sentiment of this one quote felt very appropriate for this chapter.

. o O o .

There was a constant drizzle coming from the grey sky above them. It made Hiccup wish he was already wearing his warm travelling coat instead of the colourful attire that marked him as Eret’s squire so he could pull it tighter around himself. He couldn’t concentrate. Right at this moment, the King was giving his opening speech for the Dragon Hunt, with them all being packed and ready to get going any minute now. He should listen, should pay attention, if not for any important information then at least out of respect.

But no matter how hard he tried, he didn’t hear a single word; his heart was beating in his throat and drowned out every other sound. His eyes kept shifting away from the King too, constantly moving a bit to the left to where Astrid stood a step behind her father and beneath a hastily built canopy. As if she was too delicate to be subjected to the weather. She wore her mask of a pleasant smile, her eyes gliding around slowly, resting nowhere.

Gods, he hadn’t even left yet, but he missed her already! They hadn’t really talked since their saying goodbye in Eret’s suite two days ago. Yesterday had been busy with the journey to Oramond—which Astrid had been made to spend in a carriage—and she’d taken all her meals with Eret, Dagur, and their fathers. Frigga, they’d barely even seen each other, and he’d missed her so much. Could he really leave and endure several days without her? It felt so wrong.

But once again not being able to interact with her in over a day had reminded him of just how much he needed her in his life. It reminded him of why he had to follow through with their plan. They only had this one chance to ensure their future by following the path the Gods had wanted him to take, by doing what came naturally to him. He could do this! He had to…

Eventually, the King ended his speech with a reminder of the glory and the new life that was waiting for the winner—as if he needed that reminder. Then he, Eret, Dagur, and their small group of guards rode through the crowd to set out as the first participants. They all turned their heads as they rode past the King and the group around him. Silent nods were exchanged and to satisfy those watching, Eret even blew a kiss in Astrid’s direction. Her smile grew a little warmer, making Hiccup’s heart beat in his throat. Then her gaze glided on, over the rest of their group, and eventually, their eyes met. It lasted for less than one second before she looked away again, but to him, the emotions and the meaning in that brief exchange were tangible. Real, full of love and reassurance. The promise that they would soon be together again. It was a moment he would cherish, something to hold on to.

Then he took a last deep breath and turned away, toward the road ahead of them.

It felt like ripping out his heart.

. o O o .

Hiccup wasn’t sure whether to call it a lucky streak or just good preparation, but as everything worked out as planned, he was willing to go with either.

Both Eret and Dagur had been given a group of three guards from their fathers and a couple of pack horses. They rode hard—trying to bring as much distance between themselves and the other participants that would follow—and by noon, they reached their first stop.

It was a village of medium size. The people here obviously expected visitors, the hunt was no secret, after all, and it didn’t take long until the high lords and their entourage had gained rooms to stay in during the following days.

Hiccup spent an hour visibly busy with getting them settled in. He unpacked his and Eret’s things, arranged for them to get their food delivered to their rooms, and made sure that Cassie, Crusher, Squish, and the other horses were taken care of. But once he was sure that nobody paid him much attention anymore, he focussed on his main course again.

Back in the room he was supposed to share with Eret, he quickly changed his clothes; out of the flashy attire of a squire and into nondescript but practical travelling clothes made of wool and leather.

With his hand lingering on Astrid's key around his neck, he gave himself a moment to think of her. Now that there were actually dozens of miles between them, he felt their separation even more acutely. It felt as if something was tugging at him from the inside, urging him to get back to her, to hold her, to never let go. And a major part of him wanted nothing more than to give in to that urge, too. No matter how confident he was about this whole plan, Astrid had been right as well. Being apart from her was just wrong.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed these thoughts and feelings aside. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now. Now, he had to concentrate on his plan; being with her had to wait until he was back. Until he’d killed a dragon and returned to become a count. Until he had the land and title necessary to ask for her hand. Until he was truly worthy of her. Oh, he couldn’t wait.

Feeling a little lighter, he reached for the bundles he hadn’t unpacked earlier. They contained all he needed for the Hunt, some weapons, a few emergency rations of food, and more practical equipment he needed for a couple of days in the wilderness. And, most importantly, the bola shooter.

He threw the bags over his shoulder, then reached for the last thing he needed, the cloak Astrid’s servants had provided him with. In itself, it was an ordinary cloak, black with a blue border. What made it special however was the badge and sigil that came with it, marking the wearer as an official royal courier. It would allow him to change horses whenever he needed and ensured that he got a bed and a meal as long as he travelled along the road. He even had a letter to top off his disguise, complete with a wax seal of House Jag’r. He just hoped that he wouldn’t need this and that Eret wouldn’t get into trouble for providing him with this false message.

He didn’t pause to say his farewell to his cousin. Too easily someone could overhear them, could stop him, or could pin his leaving without permission on Eret. He and Dagur already had done enough for him; he didn’t want to risk any further trouble.

Instead, he sneaked into the stables and readied the two pack horses Eret and Dagur had brought, then left without anyone paying him any attention.

Being on the road then was a relief. It meant another part of their plan had worked perfectly. Hiccup rode for another two hours before he changed the tired horses at the next way station. A part of him wished he could take a break as well, to eat and to warm up at a hearth. He’d missed out on the meal he’d ordered for Eret in that inn and the drizzling rain was wearing on his strength. But taking a break wasn’t possible, not if he wanted to stay ahead of everyone else and out of reach of whoever might or might not be following him. So instead, he just switched to the well-rested horses a helpful stablehand provided him with and, chewing on some dried meat from his travelling rations, continued on his way up north.

He again got remounts in the evening, then rode on until long past nightfall before he stopped at an inn for the night. But despite being tired to the bones, from the second day spent in the saddle and the cool drizzle having crept through all his clothes, sleep didn’t come easily to him. His mind couldn’t find rest and for a long while, he just kept shifting from one side to the other. His thoughts kept circling around the task that lay ahead of him, around the dull sense of someone possibly following him, and around Astrid.

Gods, he missed her so much. What wouldn’t he give to hold her in his arms now, to listen to her soft breathing and breathe in her mayweed scent? Trembling, he curled into a tight ball, his hand pressed to his chest, and took a few deep and calming breaths. She was always with him; he reminded himself. Within him, their bond was tangible, pulsing like a second heart. It was warm and reassuring and real. Nothing would ever come between them, not even distance…

And soon, he would be with her for real again, too. Just a few days…

. o O o .

On the second day of the Hunt, Hiccup’s lucky streak still seemed to go on. Or that was what he tried to tell himself, at least. He was still tired, even after some hours of rest, but after a quick but tasty and filling breakfast, he was back on the road in no time. And while the rain had kept on during the night, it had stopped by now. The sky was still cloudy and the air cool, but thanks to the trees and hills around them, the wind didn’t affect him too much.

Not once did he encounter other participants of the Hunt, not by chance and not someone who might be searching for him either. Apparently, he was safe from any followers, and all Astrid’s worries had been for nothing.

Around noon, he reached another village. Although, it wasn’t even that, really, mostly a way station and a few additional buildings around it. But it was nonetheless an important place as it was the last station of his journey before he would have to leave the road and head into the swamplands.

“Now, things are getting serious,” he murmured to himself, then chuckled. Talking to himself had been a habit he’d picked up during his years of travelling on his own, to not feel quite as lonely. Almost a year had passed since then, but apparently, old habits died hard.

Pressing his legs against the horse’s sides, he rode toward what had to be the stables. “Hello?” he called, looking around for someone to take over his tired horses.

There was a grunt followed by heavy footsteps, then a burly man in a brown leather vest and with a bald head came into sight. “Oi, stranger.” He looked Hiccup over, his eyes pausing on the badge on Hiccup's cloak. “A messenger, eh? We don't see many of you around here. I’m Owen. You need horses, boy?”

Hiccup nodded, but then directly shook his head. “I do. But before I ride on... Do you have a tavern around here? Somewhere where I can get something to eat?”

“No tavern,” Owen said, but nodded toward a building on the other side of the road. “But you can get food in the main building over there. There’s not much to choose from, but my wife makes a fine stew. Just perfect for this weather.” He threw a glance past Hiccup and up into the grey sky and grimaced. “I’ll have your fresh horses ready when you need them.”

With a grateful smile, Hiccup took his bags from the horses’ backs and wandered over toward the other building. He couldn’t agree more, a good stew was just what he needed, warm and filling. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by a wave of wonderful warmth, the scent of hearty food, and a middle-aged woman of a comfortably rounded shape coming over from another room.

“Oh, a visitor!” she exclaimed, looking him over with curiosity. “But look at you. Come in, come in. You look exhausted, boy. What do you need? A room to rest?”

With a tired sigh, Hiccup shook his head. He had no time to take a rest, no matter how appealing that thought was. “Just something warm to eat, if you would be so kind. I need to be back on the road as soon as possible.”

She frowned in motherly disapproval, but nodded when he inconspicuously turned so she could see his messenger badge. “I see.”

She ushered him in and before he’d even sat down, she placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of him.

“Must be a mighty important message you’re delivering when you can’t even take a minor break.”

Hiccup smiled into his spoon. Even tired as he was, the food and the comfort of the hearth fire was enough to refuel at least some of his energy. And the woman had been kinder than she had to be, so giving her some gossip in exchange seemed only fair.

“I guess it is,” he replied between two mouthfuls. “A wedding invitation, if I’m informed correctly. From House Jag’r. I’m supposed to deliver it and return with an answer right away.” That was the story they’d decided on, giving him a good reason to head back in a couple of days as well. Even as he didn’t look forward to the question that would inevitably follow.

The woman’s eyes grew and she leaned a little closer. “A wedding invitation, you say? So the rumours are true then. The princess is going to marry our young Lord Eret?”

Hiccup dug his head and had to bite his lip to keep himself from scowling. Of course, these rumours would have spread by now. And the fondness in her voice didn’t surprise him, either; House Jag’r was well-liked among its subjects. It wasn’t this woman’s fault, that the idea of Astrid and Eret marrying didn’t fill him with the same joy as her.

“Maybe,” he suggested casually. “Or it’s about Lady Esther’s wedding.”

“Lady Esther is going to marry too?” the woman exclaimed, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, what wonderful news. Are you sure it’s true?”

Smiling a little more genuine now, Hiccup gave something between a shrug and a nod. “That’s what I overheard, at least.”

She seemed excited, but before she could say more, another woman called her over from the room next door and she left him to eat in peace. Clearly in a good mood now, she probably couldn’t wait to spread the gossip.

Content to have made at least one person’s life brighter today, Hiccup finished his stew, left a coin as thanks for his meal, and then headed back to the way station outside. Grimacing at the gust of wind tearing at his cloak, he waited for an older boy—surely Owens son, judging by his looks—to bring him his horses. He remembered the woman’s offer of a room to rest, and dreamily imagined taking her up on it, to get some sleep until the weather—hopefully—turned more agreeable soon. But he didn’t have time for that. He had to stick to their plan, couldn’t make an exception just because the weather wasn’t playing along.

As he rode on, his thoughts kept circling around the task that lay ahead of him, and slowly, he became nervous. Over the past few days, he’d repeatedly assured Astrid and the others that he knew what he had to do, that he had the knowledge and training necessary to hunt and kill a dragon.

But the truth was… It was years since he’d been out to learn how to hunt dragons, another life. He’d only been a youth, accompanying the experienced hunters to learn just like his father had instructed and everyone had expected of him. But back then, he hadn’t been interested in the best techniques to track and find wild dragons. Instead, he’d only been excited about seeing and studying them, leading him to pay little attention to what the more experienced men had tried to teach him. Now, he could only hope that enough information had stuck with him nonetheless.

. o O o .

When Hiccup reached the swamps, what awaited him was just what he’d expected. A vast plain where grass-covered hummocks seamlessly merged into muddy lakes as far as the eye could see, with lonely trees or small corpses strewn in-between. Sadly, the weather still hadn’t changed, the air cold and close to freezing. So far, the forest had kept him mostly safe from the biting wind, but out here, he wouldn’t have that protection anymore. Even his travelling cloak could only do so much in shielding him.

Hiccup grimaced but tried to focus on any advantages the wind could give him. It would carry scents and sounds over far distances, but maybe it would also confuse his prey, making it hard for the beasts to locate him. If he managed to track one down in the first place…

With a tired grunt, he dismounted and took the horses’ reins to lead them behind him as he made his way deeper into the swamps. He needed them to carry his equipment, but carrying him over the muddy ground would needlessly tire them out. So he went on foot, regularly leaving the animals fixed to a branch or rock when he found one to search the area for any signs that a dragon might be close by.

But there were none.

When dusk came, Hiccup was starting to feel anxious. For hours, he’d been wandering through these swamplands now, but not once had he spotted even the hint of wings larger than those of a hawk on the horizon, let alone found any traces of a dragon being nearby. And he was exhausted . The wetness from the ground had soaked into his trousers, his boots, and up his cloak, making it even heavier. Dragging him down. The sky had cleared, but without the sun that only meant the temperature was dropping even lower, further wearing out his remaining strength. And in addition, the three days of travelling hadn’t done his leg any good to begin with. By now, every step was painful, his back hurting, and his limps felt like jelly. He stumbled and fell more often the farther he wandered through the swamps, and soon, his hands were muddy and cold. Numb.

And still, there were no signs of any dragons. Which meant that he was wasting his time here anyway.

With a tired sigh, Hiccup sank down onto a damp rock and buried his face in his hands. Gods, he was so exhausted. He didn’t want to waste any time by just sitting here, couldn’t really afford to do so. But he couldn’t go on like this, either. He needed to rest , something to eat and some hours of sleep. Which probably was the more sensible thing to do, anyway. Yes, he would break off for today and get some rest. And tomorrow, he would travel farther north along one of the marked paths. Maybe he would have more luck there.

“It’s the only sensible thing to do,” he muttered to himself, reluctantly resigning to this plan. “But first, I need to find a dry place to make camp. And preferably something warm to eat…” The clear sky promised a freezing night, warmth would be essential.

Gathering his remaining strength, Hiccup fought himself back up on his feet and kept going. He wandered further through the swamps, but now, he wasn’t looking for hints or trails of any dragons anymore. Instead, he was looking for prey to hunt. A deer would be nice, enough meat to keep him full through the coming days. But just a rabbit would do, too. He still had some dried rations in his pack, but he would only touch those if he had no other choice.

This time, his search didn’t take long. It was less than half an hour, the sun gone and the night illuminated by stars only, until he spotted movement in the high grass ahead of him. The rustling of the blades of grass was distinctly different from that of the wind, and it seemed as if his tiny lucky streak was still going; from the size of it, it had to be a deer and not a rabbit.

He stopped, grimacing as he found nothing to tie the horses to, but it couldn’t be helped. He wouldn't be gone for long anyway. As quietly as he could, he took one bag off the nearer horse to reach the bow and quiver strapped beneath. Then, with one arrow loosely nocked, he sneaked up the hummock behind which the deer had disappeared.

Slowly, without making the slightest noise, Hiccup made his way to the top and looked for the deer. He’d heard the rustling of grass from the dip on the other side just a moment ago, the animal had to be here somewhere. He looked around, squinting to see in the near-complete darkness of the night—but when he spotted the beast, he barely believed his eyes.

From one moment to the next, Hiccup froze in fear, eyes wide and unable to move. The animal that stood with its head bent down to drink from a shallow lake just a few feet away from him was not a deer.

It was a dragon. And not just any dragon, no. Hiccup had never seen one of these before, but he’d heard stories and had seen drawings in old books. Deep black and almost invisible in the night, Hiccup could only make out its sleek body and powerful wings by the starlight reflecting on its shiny scales. A long tail with spiky tail fins, some odd earlike protrusion on its head, it was—

A Night Fury!

The ultimate prize!

Hiccup’s heart began to race uncontrolled. This was why he was here! For whatever reason the Gods had led his way here, this was it. It had to be! The legendary beast from the old stories, so tightly linked to his name. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Now, all he had to do was incapacitate the monster with the bola shooter, and—

And the bola shooter was still at the bottom of one of his bags, back with the horses.

At the last moment, he remembered to suppress his groan; alerting the dragon to his presence could have fatal consequences. But that was the problem. There was no way he could go back and return with the shooter without the beast hearing him. It was a miracle that he’d managed to sneak up on this stealthy dragon, to begin with.

His mind was working at a rapid speed. Only seconds had passed since he spotted the dragon, but it was unlikely that he would get much more time. Any moment now, it would notice him, hear or scent him. He had to do something now.

His eyes dropped to the bow and nocked arrow in his hands. A horribly insufficiant weapon to fight against a dragon, but it was all he had.

Feverishly, he tried to remember his lessons.

A downed dragon is a dead dragon.

The wings! If he incapacitated the beast’s wings and it wasn’t able to fly, couldn’t flee and could only attack him from the ground—then he might have a chance. He carried a hunting knife strapped to his belt; not much but, it could work. It had to!

Hiccup forced himself to calm down his breathing and lifted the bow. Archery wasn’t his greatest skill, but the shot should be easy enough. He just had to tear a big-enough hole into one of the leathery wings, that was all. Manageable from this short distance. Right?

Adrenalin made his hands shake as he pulled and aimed. But he only had this one chance. So he took a deep breath and held it, forcing himself to calm down. For Astrid! he thought, and released the arrow.

And for a brief moment, Hiccup thought he’d made it.

The dragon screamed—in pain or surprise, Hiccup couldn’t tell—and whirled around. Hastily, Hiccup dropped the bow and pulled his knife instead, and in rapid speed, instructions he’d thought long forgotten popped up in his mind. He had to keep moving, had to circle the beast, somehow corner it and if possible make it use up his shots. Now that it wasn’t able to fly, he had to attack its other wing, its legs, weaken it, and—

The Night Fury roared in his direction, its large black wings stretched wide. And to Hiccup’s dismay, they were unharmed. He’d missed. Cold dread filled his stomach, but he had no time to think about his failure. For the beast had spotted him. For an endless heartbeat, its cold eyes all but pierced him. Then it jumped into the air, wings covering the entire sky, and screamed. Purple light gleamed in its throat, growing brighter and brighter and—

Hiccup reacted without thinking. At the last moment, he threw himself to the side and out of the way of the dragon’s fiery breath, and the blast of purple light missed him by inches. However, instead of landing in the grass as he’d anticipated, the world was suddenly spinning around Hiccup, leaving him without orientation. Up became down, the ground turned into thin air, and as Hiccup tumbled down the hillside, he could hear the beast screech angrily.

The landing was hard, jarring. Icy darkness closed around him, the momentary numbness only pierced by a sudden sharp pain in his left leg. He screamed as something cut deep into his flesh and doubled over to reach for his leg, but jerked back a moment later, spluttering and gasping.

For an endless heartbeat, there was only chaos; the pain and cold made Hiccup blind to what happened around him. There was another scream from the dragon, whinnying from the horses, and a noise that sounded like a sudden gust of wind—and then, only silence.

With a low groan, Hiccup tried to sit up. It took him a few tries; the ground was muddy and slippery. He’d landed in a shallow pool, and the water was icy. It stung like countless needles and made his fingers go numb. His clothes, already uncomfortably damp before, now clung to his skin. They dragged him down, and crawling up the embankment was more difficult than it should be.

Between the pain and the freezing water, Hiccup had forgotten everything else around him. But once he was back on—relatively—dry land, he remembered that he wasn’t alone. Where was the dragon? Was it watching him, waiting in some shadow and ready to attack again? He looked around frantically, eyes darting here and there, with fear blocking his throat and making it hard to breathe. He was defenceless, wouldn’t be able to dodge another attack in his current state.

But no attack came. The surrounding shadows were empty, the dim starlight enough to see at least that much.

Slumping in on himself, Hiccup let out an exhausted sigh. The threat seemed to be over, for the moment at least. And if the dragon was still around… well, then there was little he could do to defend himself anyway. A quick search showed him that he must have lost his knife during his fall, and as poor of a choice of weapon it had been, without it, he felt even worse.

Accepting that he wasn’t in immediate danger, he took a minute to catch his breath, then shifted to inspect his leg. The sharp pain made him grimace. Adrenalin and the cold water had numbed the pain after the initial burst, but now it became nearly unbearable—and horribly familiar.

Hissing in pain, he peeled back the torn fabric and tried to inspect the wound as best he could without light. His fingers were shaking and he had to grit his teeth, but after a minute of prodding and probing, he had a relatively good idea of the state his leg was in. The wound was a clean and straight cut, matching the edges of the fabric. It wasn’t so deep that it was directly threatening, but he would need to treat it and pray that the wound didn’t get infected.

“Oh, wonderful, ” he cursed under his breath, as it dawned on him what must have cut him. “Just perfect! I manage to dodge the dragon’s attack, only to fall into my own weapon. Typical! I’m… I’m such an idiot!”

With a hopeless groan, he let his head fall against the knee of his good leg, feeling a horrible sense of déjà vu.

The night and the cold wind. The failed fight against a dragon. His injured leg.

It was all happening again.

But no! No, he wouldn’t mess everything up, not again. There was still time, he could still find and kill a dragon. He hadn’t failed, not until he gave up.

Gritting his teeth, Hiccup fought himself up to wobbly stand on his good leg. This new injury had hit his already weaker leg, which was good. Maybe his sort-of-lucky streak wasn’t over just yet, despite the mess he was in. He just had to focus on the positive things...

But the wound needed tending, and he was in dire need of some dryer clothes, too. Looking around, Hiccup found that his weird luck really hadn’t run out yet. Only a few steps away, he spotted a long branch. Crooked and not as strong as he would have preferred, it was still sufficient enough as an improvised crutch. It didn’t make walking easy, but at least it became a little more bearable.

Slowly, he made his way around the hummock to where he’d left the horses. In one of the saddlebags, he had clean cloth for bandages and a small flask of willow bark tincture. It probably wasn’t enough for a wound as big as this one, but it would have to be enough for now. However, even with his crude crutch, the way was difficult, especially on this uneven ground. Hiccup hobbled more than he was walking, putting as little weight on the injured leg as was possible. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he went on and on, forcing himself to endure the pain.

Just a little longer...

Just until he’d reached the horses, then he could rest…

The way around the hummock seemed to take longer than was logically possible, but Hiccup passed that off as fatigue and the slight daze he was in with the pain and after the shock of the dragon attack. He felt like the beast had still to be around somewhere, and it took him way too long to realise his mistake.

The horses were gone.

He’d possibly rounded the hummock for the second time when he spotted a leather bag lying on the ground a small distance away from him. Hobbling closer, he recognised it as his own and after throwing a glance around was sure that this was the place he’d left the horses before he’d approached the Night Fury. Except that the horses were nowhere to be seen.

“ Of course, they aren’t here anymore!” he groaned, slumping down to the ground next to the lonely bag. “The dragon probably scared them and they ran away. And I run around like an idiot, looking for...” He trailed off, laughing at himself and shaking his head. “I’m such an idiot…”

Hiccup leaned against a rock and gave himself a few moments to regain his strength. He needed a rest… Just a moment to breathe, to gather his thoughts.

First, he had to find the horses. Maybe there was another silver lining waiting for him and they’d only run a little further away from the fight. Maybe, he could recapture them easily.

With more effort than he liked, he climbed back on top of the hummock, looking around, searching. By now, the moon had come out, a full moon, bathing the landscape around him in cool silvery light. But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t spot the horses anywhere. Instead, he spotted a patch of burned grass nearby, right next to where he’d left the lonely bag. He let out another groan. If the dragon’s attack had hit this close to the horses, it was no wonder they’d fallen into a panic and run. They were probably still running at this very moment, and were irrecoverably lost to him by now. Walking around looking for them wasn’t just nearly impossible in his current state, it was entirely useless, too.

“Shit…”

The curse came as merely a weak groan. Without these horses, it would be difficult to get fresh ones at a way station. And without horses in general, it would be tricky to make it back to Eret in time for the Dragon Hunt. If he was lucky, the messenger’s badge and a good story of how he’d lost the horses would be enough but—

Then the full range of this development hit him. The horses hadn’t just been meant to carry him back.

“SHIT!”

This time, he yelled. With the horses gone, he had no equipment anymore either. No bandages or medication for his leg. No dried food for emergencies. No oiled blankets against the weather. In those bags had been everything, clothes, equipment—his weapons!

Burying his face in his hands and pulling at his hair, he let out an inarticulate scream. Astrid had been right, after all. He should have listened to her. This whole idea had been madness right from the beginning. He never should have left her side. No matter how bad the odds, holding her hand when they tried to convince Daniel to support them… that would have been leagues better than dying out here, alone. Never to see her again…

“No…” He looked up, a small flicker of determination blooming in his chest amidst the ocean of despair inside him. “No, I won’t give up! I… I promised that everything would be all right…”

Behind his mind’s eye, an image of Astrid appeared. He’d barely ever seen her truly angry, but he could imagine so well how she would look, with her fists in her sides, leaning forward a little and giving him a well-deserved scolding. He could almost hear her, telling him that she’d told him so, that he was an idiot for going through with this stupid plan, and that he should have listened to her. Oh, what would he give to hear her voice for real now… Even if she were to yell at him, he wouldn’t mind.

With a weak smile on his lips, he raised his hand to press it to his chest. There it was, the pulsing of their bond, warm and reassuring. Urging him on. He wasn’t defeated, not yet.

Looking around the top of the hummock, he spotted his bow where he’d dropped it before. That was something, at least. Taking it, he made his way back to the one bag of equipment he had left. Every movement hurt, but that didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he wouldn’t let himself drown in self-pity now. He had to do the best of his situation, no matter how bad it may seem.

Just like with the injury being on his already weakened leg, he found that he was lucky in that of all the bags he’d originally brought with him, this one was the one he still had now. It contained little that was of use to him right now. A woollen blanket and a spare tunic occupied most of the space within—both things he would appreciate once he’d found a dry place to rest—but so much more importantly was what he’d stored at the very bottom of this bag. Hidden beneath the layers of cloth should anyone have taken a look, he’d stored part of his weapons. A few additional arrows for the bow, a spare dagger…

And the bola shooter.

Apparently, the Gods were still on his side. He still had a chance. The thought was reassuring, enough to keep the rising hopelessness at bay. He hadn’t lost, yet.

Studiously, he pushed all other problems aside and only focused on the next step. First, it was the spare shirt he needed. Putting it on beneath his other dripping clothes would be pointless, but at least it was clean. Using the dagger from the bag, since he’d lost the other one somewhere in that muddy puddle, Hiccup cut the shirt apart and used the cloth to put an improvised bandage around his leg. Not perfect, but it was better than nothing. At least it helped staunch the bleeding for the moment.

“All right,” he muttered to himself as he lifted the by now damp bag off the ground and onto his back. “On to looking for a place to rest. Maybe I’m even lucky and I find something to eat after all.”

. o O o .

Eventually, Hiccup’s lucky streak ran out. It had to happen sooner or later, but he still cursed that it had to happen now.

What he needed more than anything else was a fire to warm his body and to dry his clothes, a place that wasn’t too damp and wood and flint and stuff to light it. Food or treatment for his leg would be a welcome bonus, but those could wait until tomorrow. First, he had to make it until then. And that proved to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.

After last night’s rain, finding dry wood or a dry spot to rest was all but impossible. With the injury on his leg, he only made slow progress, the pain getting worse with every step. More than once, he cursed having lost the horses, not just because of his lost equipment but because them carrying him now would have been an invaluable help. But it was more than just that. The exhaustion of the long days of travel eventually caught up with him, and the blood-loss combined with his wet clothes draining his strength did the rest to leave his mind clouded and fuzzy.

Two times, he noticed the movement ahead of him too late, a rabbit disappearing before he even had the chance to ready his bow. But even as his stomach grumbled, he found it more and more difficult to care.

His crutch hadn’t lasted long, had broken and left a long gash on his forearm in the process. Since then, he kept stumbling and falling, jarring his wound even further. And every time he fell, it became harder to get up again. He was beyond exhaustion by now. The cold wind was tearing at his clothes and slowly draining him of any energy that was left, cutting into his hands and face, and oftentimes made it hard to keep his eyes open at all. Every step was agony, his arms and legs were growing weaker with every minute, and fighting himself back up on his feet seemed more and more futile.

What even was the point? What was he trying to achieve by stumbling through this hostile landscape? Killing a dragon? Earning himself the right to be at Astrid’s side? Regaining his honour, proving to himself that he was not a failure? How was he supposed to do any of that here?

Maybe it was impossible, especially the last point.

Maybe, he was nothing but a failure, after all…

The next time his tired feet got caught and he landed face-first in the dirt, he couldn’t find the strength to stand up anymore. Maybe he should just stay here, sleep for a few hours. His skin was so numb that he wasn’t even feeling the cold anymore. And he was so tired...

Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he knew that these were not good signs. It meant hypothermia, meant that he most likely wouldn’t wake up again if he fell asleep, if he didn’t get up right now. But he was just too exhausted to move, every part of him. His body, his arms and legs, his head, and most of all his mind. Everything was so heavy and slow, so exhausting. Maybe, he should just stay here. Maybe he should give up…

It was then, in that moment of resignation, when he sensed it. A whiff of mayweed reached his nose, seemingly out of nowhere, and with it came the memories. An impression of golden hair. Eyes as endless as the sky. The ghostly touch of fingers, so soft yet also strong. And a voice sweeter than the sweetest music.

You promised . You promised that you ’ d come back to me. Please, Hiccup. I… I can ’ t imagine a world without you in it.

Groaning, Hiccup rolled onto his back.

“I… promised…”

Moving was difficult. His arms and legs were so numb he barely felt them anymore. But he had to get up. He’d promised Astrid that he’d come back to her, and it was a promise he was going to keep, no matter what. Grimacing and with a shaking hand, he reached for his left leg and pressed his thumb into the wound.

“F-fuck!”

Hiccup screamed. The pain was intense, burning hot along his nerves and bringing tears to his eyes. But it also ripped away the haze around his thoughts and brought him the clarity he needed.

He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t give up and die. He had to go on, to live. For her. Sitting up, he found himself halfway up a low hummock, the ground here slightly dryer. Tentative hope bloomed in his chest, but this wasn’t good enough. Maybe if he found another hummock with some trees, some ripped-off branches and something to shield him from the wind and further rain…

Clinging to that hope, he crawled toward the hummock’s top. By now, the moonlight was flooding the land around him, so maybe the raised position would help him find what he was looking for; any form of shelter against the weather would do.

What he saw, however, made him doubt his sanity again. There, less than half a mile away, was the glow and smoke of a fire.

Hiccup stared in wonder and disbelief. With his eyes clinging to the flickering light, he even thought that he could feel the fire’s warmth on his skin, smelled the scent of food.

He made an unconscious step toward the promising campfire but then paused again. If he truly went there… what would await him? If he was lucky— very lucky一then it was just a group of travellers, hopefully friendly enough to share what they had with a stranger in the night. But he wasn’t fooling himself. Who would wilfully travel through the swamps, and this far off the paths no less? No, far more likely was that somehow other participants of the Dragon Hunt had found their way here as well. And if that was the case…

Biting his lip, Hiccup pondered his options. Going to this camp might very well end in him getting killed on the spot. No matter whether those were the same people who’d killed Snotlout’s squire or whether they were regular participants and trying to win County Ravenledge; if they saw him as a rival then they wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of him. After all, out here, nobody would ever find out what really happened. But if he didn’t go to this camp…

Hiccup’s shoulders slumped in resignation. If he didn’t go to that camp, then he was as good as dead. There was no point in deluding himself; without the warmth of a fire, shelter and care for his wound, and maybe even some food, he wouldn’t survive the night.

“I promised,” he murmured into the breeze, his decision made. “I promised I’d come back to you. And I will, Astrid. Nothing will come between us. Not even death.”

So he made his way toward the campfire in the distance. He was still just as tired and cold and in pain as before, but the hope that maybe he would survive the night after all gave him the strength he needed. The hope that he might see Astrid again.

However, when he reached the edge of the light, he paused, confused. As far as he could tell, the camp was empty. There was the fire, burning brightly, a shelter made of oilcloth, and to the side stood two horses tied to a tree. There was even something roasting over the fire, two rabbits if he wasn’t mistaken. But whoever had hunted them or had built this camp, they were nowhere to be seen.

Maybe it was a trap. But at that moment, Hiccup didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was the heat of the fire beckoning him over, the scent of meat that made his stomach churn.

Slowly, he came closer, eyeing the shadows for any hidden movement even as he had no idea how he was supposed to react to an attack. Stumble against them and hope they would hit their head on a rock when they fell? Yeah, that would totally work...

With a heavy sigh, he slumped down by the fire. Warmth soaked into the skin of his face and hands, and with his weight off his leg, it already felt so much better than just moments before. He eyed the roasted rabbits but left them untouched. He was no thief, after all, still hoped the people here might help him. Instead, he just curled into a ball and sat as close to the fire as was possible without burning himself, and stared into the dancing flames.

Time passed—minutes or hours, he didn’t know anymore—until the sound of footsteps made his head whirl around. With wide eyes, he gazed at the figure emerging from the shadows, his heart pounding. He recognised them immediately, their armour, and knew exactly who was standing in front of him.

At that moment, he knew that he was dead.

. o O o .

AN: Soooooo... I'm incredibly curious about the reactions to this chapter! Finally, we met a dragon, if only briefly. But Hiccup is in a bad shape, not good for hunting down a dragon. And who was it he met there at the end? So many questions...

I'm already working on the next update, but as always, no promises for when it might be done...

Next Chapter

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

If you want to leave a tip you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊

(Ko-Fi)

[artificialqueens]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You (Rosnali) - Joley

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make.

(bonus: denali's playlist for rosé)

ao3 link

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “…you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”