#('on side' ; that is. not at court. although probably not that either. with the conditions she demanded)

[fideidefenswhore]

the downfall and execution of a tudor queen (2023) / the boleyns: a scandalous family (2021) / the king's pearl: henry viii and his daughter mary (2017), melita thomas / anne boleyn (tv miniseries 2021) / the mirror and the light (2024) / elizabeth (1998)

[leo0oel]

Quicksilver, Chapter #1:

First chapter of a little something something I've been working on. Kinda no plot yet (or title), this is mostly a character study but I feel like it's pretty good so far. (1.4k Words)

Peter never knew there were so many dumb words in the dictionary. 

For example, there was Bardolatry and Borborygmus. There was also Quagmire and Cattywampus, although he still had no idea what that was. His best guess was some sort of plant. Imbroglio was one of those words, and yet it was probably one of the nicer ways to describe his situation.

In the words of the English dictionary, it means “an intricate and perplexing state of affairs,” or “a complicated and difficult situation.”

In his words, a mess. A complete mess.

How did he know this? Because somehow, out of all of the books in the once giant mansion, the thick, red, leather-bound Dictionary was one of the only surviving books in the ruins of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. 

After the explosion (and Peter’s brief hero moment), the school had been completely destroyed. What was left of it was either very charred or nearly ash. Except for the dictionary somehow. The state of the book was very much unlike the school. It seemed to be in pristine condition besides the slight char on the spine of the cover. Everything important however, including the manor, was gone. What was left of the school could barely be considered a foundation. Heaps of debris and rubble covered half the plot and small fires rose as a result of the explosion in random spots all over the campus.

 He could remember the faces on all the kids. 

They all looked heartbroken and completely devastated. Some were crying, some were consoling, and some were flat out confused, but all of them looked… sad. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if he’d done this to them. He knew he hadn’t. In fact, he’d been their saviour, but to him it was all the same. 

He was only torn from his thoughts at the sound of yelling behind him. He turned to see the teenagers from that yellow Oldsmobile he’d seen out front. They were an odd looking group. Lead by some kid with red sunglasses and a popped collar, a Bonnie Raitt wannabe (he swears he only knows her because of his mom), another girl who looked like a neon paint explosion, and a blue kid who’s hair looked straight out of a Joan Jett and the Brokenhearts album cover. But who was he to judge?

He remembered everything that happened afterwards. He remembered the kid with the red glasses’ shouting for his brother, wondering where he was, obviously frantic. He knew that he got everyone. At least he thought he did. He grabbed everyone closest to the blast. He knew he grabbed everyone in the lobby, in the dorms, the kitchen, the lounge, the classrooms, and the basketball court. He was pretty sure he got everybody. So he said that.

“Pretty sure I got everybody.” 

Key words, Pretty sure. 

Not certain. 

So apparently he was wrong. 

“Alex was closest to the blast.” Said a voice from beside him. He froze immediately. Hands clenched into fists by his sides, nails digging into his skin. He had been so sure he got everybody. But Alex was closest to the blast. If he had already been engulfed by the flames he wouldn’t have been able to see him. He then turned to the man next to him. The one person he recognized. Peter hadn’t really remembered his name from their first meeting, but now that he looked at him again, the name Hank came to mind. The man didn’t face him. Instead he kept his head straight in a daze, eyes glazed over, staring at the teen searching in the rubble. All the guilt he had been feeling previously now felt completely valid. He was the reason this kid would never see his brother again. He hadn’t been fast enough. 

He watched as the kid with the red glasses broke down in a mess of tears in the rubble of the Xavier Manor. Taking off said glasses and wiping vigorously at his face. Peter felt his own tears brewing, somewhere. He wasn’t exactly sure what to feel at the moment. 

It was a mess. 

Thankfully, there wasn’t much time to dwell over that fact. Mostly because almost immediately after everyone was knocked out by a bunch of overly dressed soldiers in a military helicopter and some sort of sonic blast. All the adults were then kidnapped, including himself.

When he woke up he was in a metal, green-lit room with a hot blonde, a CIA agent named Moira MacTaggert (also hot), and a giant blue guy who was apparently Hank which genuinely freaked him out. Not that he was against it or anything. 

Peter’s only problem with this situation was the fact that he was even in it in the first place. All he wanted to do was ask the Professor a few questions. A few questions about Erik. His dad. Which, now that he thought about it, might not have been the best idea. He was seriously starting to regret coming to see the professor. Not that he didn’t want to know about his long lost father, he just didn’t want to be in this situation. A situation that could possibly end in his demise. Yeah, no thanks. 

He didn’t exactly know how he was useful. They weren’t going to get much out of him even if they tried. He didn’t know anything. The idiot manning the operation clearly didn’t know this either as he continuously badgered them with stupid questions. 

Once Major (Colonel?) Stryker left, he had nothing to do. He didn’t know these people and even if he knew Hank, he wasn’t exactly buddy-buddy with him. So he did what anyone would do in that situation. 

Ask the hot blonde woman if she knew Erik. 

Of course she did (because everyone except him does) and of course he just had to run his mouth and tell her that he maybe, kind of, sort of happened to be his dad. She was surprised, which was valid, so was he when he found out. I mean, who knew the all powerful Magneto, the guy who dropped a stadium on the white house, could ever love a woman enough to like, you know. 

Bad choice of statement, he had loved a woman enough. Enough to start a family. It just wasn’t his mom that he stayed for. 

The moment they’d escaped from Stryker, (man the guy was an idiot, I mean, who puts a feral murdering guy in a cage he could escape from?) he’d been thrown into battle again. Not willingly, he just happened to be there when they took off in the jet. He could have run, he could have left, he knew that. But there was also a big part of him that wanted to see Erik. To confess, anything. Obviously he skipped out on that chance and everything just went downhill from there. 

He punched the blue guy – which was awesome by the way – but then his leg got snapped basically in half, twice, which was not awesome. He almost died, he should be more worried about that, but at the moment all he could think about was how his dad would watch another family member die and he’d never even know. He doesn’t really remember what else happened, he was too delirious with pain at the moment. But he does remember that Jean chick absolutely bombing the shit out of the blue guy. 

Looking back on it the whole thing was pretty cool, except for the broken leg. Again, not awesome. 

Peter leaned back against the wall that encased the back half of the Professor’s property, laying the dictionary on his chest, clasping his hands over it. He then tilted his head towards his leg. The cast went all the way to his thigh and was covered in messy handwriting, “Get well soon!” messages, and colorful names with doodles attached (Some of those were pretty questionable).

For now he was kind of set. 

He’d decided to stay for a while. At least until he was fully healed. He couldn’t exactly go anywhere even if he wanted to, but besides the name, the place was surprisingly bearable. Besides the occasional screaming from the Mini-mutants, the place was sort of relaxing. That and he got free food and health care. Actually, he wasn’t quite sure if Hank was a real doctor or not. Should he really be trusting him?

Eh, either way he was free.

[spookycoffeeinfluencer]

"Oh beautiful poison tree." Tw:(Toxic?)Father/daughter reader,Reader is referred to as female, Thirteen!year old reader,

"You just fuck everything up don't you?" Sighed the Blonde man. Running his fingers through his platinum locks. Pushing the loose bristles of his golden mop of hair. His nose twitched as his eyebrows scrunched closer together to result in annoyed forehead wrinkles. Irritatingly enough, his foot, against his own instincts seemed to tap to a rebellious rhythm of its own. As if it were a pianist who can't decide what tempo it wants to go at.

"Mr.Kaiser, we can assure you just 1 hour ago she was just in the front arena seats. She couldn't have gone farther then the concession stands I promi-"

"So you're telling me that out of 466 staff members not a single one noticed her leave?"

Kaiser socffed. Too annoyed to even consider the stadium's managers final retort of a pitiful excuse. I mean how hard could it be to find a Thirteen year old? She probably didn't even remember where the entrance was, so she had to be somewhere nearby. At the very worst she might've found her way into some never-ending corridor that might've lead to some empty-unused faculty room.

He shouldn't be mad. At least not at her. For all her thirteen years of living she probably hasn't stepped a foot outside of Germany. Otherwise she wouldn't act this inexperienced. Not to mention, on the flight to Wembley Stadium in London, she seemed to act more skittish then usual. Almost as if something electric had permeantly stung her and anytime she walks it's as slow as a tortoise and anything she even remotely touched she would handle with great care as if it were a piece of fragile glass. Also, based on the way she talked to the Brunette flight attendant, her English was..quite articulated. Not that his was any better of course, but when she spoke, she spoke so quietly almost as if her intention was really just to talk to herself rather then another person.

At first, Michael thought being a father would be easy. As long as you don't fuck up too bad you'd be fine. He himself having grown up with an abusive guardian really thinks his daughter should be more grateful for him. After all, if he hadn't taken custody of her she'd still be stuck in that adoption center. Where her no-good-gone-for-good mother left her.

His daughter had Dirty Blonde hair a little on the darker side some subtle feature she inherited from her mother. She had this bold, Striking gaze. A deep Sapphire blue identical to his own. Probably his best attribute passed down to his daughter(he had smirked just thinking about it). She was also quite short. Around five foot. She had pale skin littered with small darker freckles from probably some recessive gene on either side of the family branch. She was quite petite. Although quite common in adolescents, he still wondered if what they were feeding her at the adoption center was somewhat substantial.

The information the social worker had given him was quite vague. The vanilla folder he was given had only her Medical records, School records, and financial obligations. The conditions of her group home and the in depth details about sole legal custody. The requirements and obligations.

It had taken him about 3 weeks. It was relatively easy but easy doesn't always mean simple. Her mother whom had apparently legally discussed with the Jugendamt to give custody which had been the one to place her in an adoption center.

But, luckily before she was adopted. The court decided for her to take a DNA test. Although her mother had listed only herself as her only other biological guardian, she had said the father was "out of the picture" or in other words unknown.

Approximately 7 days later. Michael received a very special phone call. That he had some long-lost daughter in the city of Frankfurt.

So here he was. Standing in this stupid stadium. At least this season's football season was going well. That was about the one thing he looked forward to. Although as of late, he's lost excitement in his most recent matches. Nothing even remotely challenging enough to even make him think even the slightest bit stragedically. Even with a few missed passes and opportunities they had managed to score 3-0.

"Mr.Kaiser, your daughter has fortunately been located in a janitor's closet...how this happened has yet to be found out..."

"Verdammte Hölle."

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Sorry this this fic is kinda crappy. All the research on Germany's youth care system and courts we're basically googled. I feel like I committed a crime against Germans. And all German phrases were googled😭. If you guys have any more ideas just send a request through my request box or if you want a part 2 I might do that. This was...also no proofread...

[raisindave]

[Chapter 36] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

It's really no wonder why heavy gowns and scarves are so common in this climate. Loose cloth kept your arms and legs cool, while covered skin meant unexposed flesh would be shielded from the punishing desert sun. It's the kind of thing you would have no way of understanding the effectiveness of without trying it yourself, and as the ground crunched under you, you entirely understood. Even with the efficient fashion, the cruel midday sun reflected off the ground before you, effectively baking the sensitive flesh on your face. 

As angular, boxy buildings came into view, the space between your eyebrows crinkle, exasperated by beading sweat. So many of these buildings were shaggy, decrepit, and hollow. They probably once housed lively and keen families, now hollow with unhinged doors and sunken roofs. A thin layer of golden dust promised the validity of your suspicion that these houses hadn't been occupied in years. The houses that did have elderly patrons kneeling on stone porches had faces that portrayed jaded eyes and profound wrinkles. 

That's when it came into view. You had to blink to clear any dust from your eyes, or else you would've been certain you were seeing things. An extravagant marble, jade and quartz fountain. Exquisitely carved fish bellowed glimmering water into a pool with expertly manicured tilework. It looked like something you'd see in one of those cheesy Maphia movies when they visit the Don's house. Only when your fingertips made contact with the scalding marble did you actually identify it as a genuine object and not a mirage. 

Shaking off the disbelief, you surged forward. Crunching gravel beneath your feet was occasionally interrupted by screeching eagles or the odd truck driving along the eerily broad streets. The closer you got to the inner city, there were more and more signs of human life, but you still struggled to understand your surroundings. Old buildings falling apart from wear are juxtaposed with a glamorous park only a house's width away. The path led you past an elementary school that looked more like a modern art exhibit, along with a freshly painted artistic basketball court with plexiglass hoops. It's objectively a beautiful school, the kind of place you'd bribe and lie to get your kid in. Except there were no kids in sight. What made it even more odd was the disintegrating buildings on either side, with streets disfigured by knee-deep potholes and heaving creases. 

Price's path didn't allow you to explore further down that road, but it did include a route toward the sprawling plaza that hosted dozens of bustling citizens. People-watching would be the most logical thing to do in an effort to let your eyes process the disturbing architecture this city offers. A stylized painting of a coffee cup signified a cafe, also signifying an excellent place to sit and observe. Although a warm coffee would be far from what your scorching flesh would request, it seemed like the locals were more than partial to the drink. A pair of papery bank notes would get you a cup of black coffee, one that the old man behind the counter wordlessly provided. 

The inner portion of the cafe was delightfully air-conditioned, with polished floors and sleek paint, but the outside portion was more intriguing. The searing porcelain cup in your palm compounded the baking desert heat in the patio area. Your eyes swung over contemporary outdoor furniture, triangulating the best position for people-watching. Weighing your options must have made you seem like a stranger, as an Arabic tongue called for your attention from just over your shoulder. Swallowing bubbling panic, you temporarily scrambled to identify the face that was beckoning to you expectantly. 

"Come sit, I was just about to leave." A middle-aged woman with the most striking grey eyes you've ever seen nodded and invited you to sit with her. 

At the risk of standing out, though somewhat skeptical, you mustered your sweetest smile and accepted the company. As you approached, you pulled back a pale, cloth-covered chair to join her at the carved wood table. This woman wore a similar full-length gown, though dark hair curled out of her scarf in cheerful coils. The memory of coffee sat at the bottom of her mug with her hands clasped around elegant fingers that hosted a glinting yellow-gold wedding band. Being off-put or nervous was unbecoming of a local, so you mustered your calmest smile as you settled across from her. 

"My name is Basmala," she spoke so sweetly, in a gravelly yet stern tone.

"Fatema," you smiled, reluctantly landing on the most common female name you could remember off the top of your head. 

"What brings you to Al Mazrah, Fatema?" 

You took a long sip of the scalding liquid in your palms, cautiously eyeing the dark liquid before you sip. Usually, your palette would insist on at least four scoops of sugar and a steady gulp of milk for your morning coffee. However, those weren't options at this establishment, so you'll have to settle with black. What you couldn't understand, though, was how flavourful and smooth the hot drink was as it slid over your tongue, rather than the sour, bitter flavour you expected. The coffee you're used to would make you shudder at the thought of drinking it black, but this drink didn't even resemble the same substance. Your fascination subtracted from the vital time you needed to come up with an answer, forcing you to think on your feet.

"I'm visiting my cousin; he lives in town." Her eyes pondered you as you spoke, as you recognized your need to clarify: "My brother is with me."

She seemed satisfied with your response, resting her chin on her palm as she side-eyed the bustling street with those striking eyes. Your eyes swam to settle on something that caught your eye initially- her yellow shoes that peeked out from under her long skirt. Yellow leather mary-jane shoes, so vibrant and joyful, you couldn't help but be set at ease by their cheerfulness. There's just no way some undercover Separatist spy would wear something so stylish, something with that much personality. Humming in approval, her gaze once again returned to you. 

"What do you think of the city?" Basmala traced her finger around the mug she held, making use of idle fingers. 

"It's a beautiful town," you responded in your most eloquent Arabic, though the look on her face flattened.

Something in what you said made her unsettled; you could just tell. Milliseconds without chatter to fill the gap made you antsy to catch her before she left. Awkward conversation and stale air. She was slipping right now, yet her eyes dug into you. The warm air felt like a crushing blanket around every limb, making sweat pool in your palms around your steaming cup. Say something. She's a Separatist. She's going to report you. Laswell, Ghost, and Farah, and the rest of them are about to listen to you get skinned alive. 

"But I do have one question," words manifested in your throat before your mind caught up.

You'd recaptured her attention only briefly. Think, fast. Say anything that can keep her around, get her talking, and gather useful information. Don't say anything incriminating. Don't imply you're with the military—not the military, a foreign military. You just have to continue moving your vocal chords now. 

"I-... well, as I explore this stunning city, I'm seeing so many varrying architectural styles. Is there any reason for that?" you continued, kindly rephrasing the screaming alarm bells you identified the second you stepped foot on the gravel path leading to the inner city. 

A smile, of all things, breathed across her face, illuminating creasing smile lines and crow's feet as it widened. Her posture shifted, leaning back into her creaking chair as she weighed your question. A perfectly timed cool breeze ruffled the long sleeves of her dress as she rolled her jaw before speaking. 

"Do you mean that glamorous school that was just built down the street? Or the golden fountain that's in the plaza?" She tilted her head in the direction of the landmarks she referenced, seeing the shining beacons cresting over the stout roofs. 

"Yes," you took another sip. 

"Oh, but they're not our buildings, my sweet." A sugar-sweet voice was betrayed by a stern gaze with deep eyes that could cut glass. 

She must have interpreted your eyebrows flickering in confusion as a reason to clarify as you indulged in more of the decadent drink. Basmala once again used pushing her hair behind her ear as an excuse to glance over her shoulder before speaking. 

"Those buildings are apologies." She continued a modest laugh, tinting her words with an unsettling tenderness. 

More cryptic words. Your eyes drifted to the grand cobbled plaza that united the populous storefronts in the inner city. Then, they saw the delicate, sculpted gazebo on the perimeter. Despite squatting civilians dodging the harsh sunlight only meters away, the gazebo sat vacant. There sat a pristine, stunning form of shelter for an elderly man and woman sitting on a bench nearby, yet they preferred the direct sunlight. The pounding heat didn't help your mind swim to understand Basmala's implication. 

"How do you mea-" Her hands clasped over yours stopped you in your tracks. 

"They dump money into our schools as an apology for raping this land. They let foreign corporations dump toxic waste into our harbour for another coin in their pocket. They conscript seven-year-olds into their militia. It's sick. They-" another calm glance over her shoulder, "they're performing chemical experimentations on the sons and daughters of people who speak up."

You willed your face into a peaceful visage, even letting a faint, kind smile brighten your cheeks. The words she was saying were grim and desperate, yet she trusted a stranger with them. Just as you rounded your lips to pursue this thread in conversation, she added to her speech. Those pretty yellow shoes crossed at the ankle as she leaned in closer.

"I lost my daughter three weeks ago. My husband's been missing for half a year," Her grave words cut especially deep, as you may have heard her plea through the radio signal you were sent to decrypt. "They take everything from us, then build us these grand parks and schools as if it'll make us forget. We don't forget."

"Who is 'they' ?" The burning question manifested. 

"The Separatist," those slender fingers around yours clenched with intensity, "They want to turn the town I grew up in into a hub for their violence. I- I can't take it." 

Her voice wavered, crackling under pressure that she smothered with a toothy smile. Those smile lines told the story of an existence full of a love for life, but her crumbling smile whispered utter despair. Your own voice caught in your throat, paralyzed by her unwavering stare. 

"You know what my daughter wanted to do before she disappeared?" Basmala continued, "She told me she wanted to study Pharmacology in Brussels." She leaned in closer, allowing you to see that practiced smile start to crack. "I had to tell her no. I told her no because the people will hear she's from Al Mazrah and see the news… they'll…"

"I'm so sorry," you swallowed hard. Your words were heavy in your chest, but duty insisted that you follow in pursuit, "can you tell me about th-"

She retracted her hands in an instant. Cold air, thanks to her absence, washed over exposed knuckles as you watched her rise from her seat. Basmala still kept that bittersweet smile on her cheeks, even when her words crushed you. Neither of you could afford to let your conversation resemble anything other than a heartfelt reunion, even though it felt so like she'd just spilled her soul before you. The lingering smell of coffee and hot cement filled your senses as she obscured the splintering sunbeams with her figure, casting her face in shadow from the sun's brilliance.

"It was so nice to see you again, Fatema." She spoke so warmly that it made your skin crawl. 

"And you as well, Basmala," she breathed, letting you share one last glimpse of this stranger before she turned and left your presence, never to be met again. 

Watching her leave filled you with the strangest feeling. She looked exactly like another figure on the busy street, evaporating into the crowd- but she had just spilled her soul to you, a stranger. Every time she looked over her shoulder as you conversed, it only solidified your alertness to the possibility of espionage. Even with the risk, she asked you- begged you to listen to her story. It's a kind of bravery that can only come from someone so profoundly hopeless. 

Your coffee had long since gone cold, though most of all, you'd lost all appetite. You need to get back. You have to report every word. Returning your mug with a polite nod, you crossed your billowing gown over your chest as you made your way along Price's prescribed route. With new context, the harrowing view of a once proud city displayed a splintered future for its residents. Those 'chemical experiments' that've probably doomed hundreds to a fate worse than death. These warlords, the Separatists, need to be crushed. Not just for the mission's sake or retribution for those petty attacks on London, but for those hundreds of missing souls in those CIA notebooks. For Basmala and her daughter, and the grizzled faces you passed likely had mirrored stories. 

Even without the gaudy modern additions, the town was, without a doubt, charming. The main flaw was that no families remained to uphold these grand family homes. It's hard to believe these houses once held lively young families and neatly manicured gardens. Now, time and the wind have been at these cracked, sunken walls and crumbled archways. With additional context provided from your visit, the quirky town is now marred with sinister intent, leaving a creeping sense of uneasiness to make you lightheaded. If Laswell and co. are keeping an eye on you through every passing street camera, they must see the paleness creeping over your scorching skin. Brilliant white rays of the sun threatened to cook your churning mind in your skull. It left you weighing the physical toll it might take to increase your walking speed in exchange for reaching interior air sooner. Each crunching footstep back to those white circular domes of the observatory couldn't move fast enough.

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Master List

[yae-35]

OOOOOK OK OK

FINISHED ACOFAF SO IM BASICALLY GIVING MYSELF A GO SIGNAL FOR THIS SPINOFF

Ok so Peep is an adult now right? she was born and raised in the Material Plane bla bla bla and naturally having a mom like Chirp, Peep's definitely a bundle of energy who marches to the beat of her own drum. I feel like she was one of those "chosen one" kids who went on heroic journeys in her youth, and now she's just a regular adult living her life.

Growing up, Peep's picked up on Chirp's worries about their mortality. I think it would be natural if Peep surpressed any thoughts of her own towards the matter, saying she and Esme are strong and healthy, but the thoughts are lowkey getting into Peep's skin too

And boom!! Grandfather shows up!!! He already knows about Esme and Peep a few years (maybe a decade?) ago. Of course, he was initially furious, but I'm guessing because Chip and Squak, y'know, saved the magic yadda yadda, he mellowed out over the years, and decides that he'd like to take great-granddaughter in just as he did with his grandchildren. He reaches out by some means (not by showing up in the Material Plane tho!! yucky) to Chirp stating that like he'd want to invite Peep over to stay with him during that year's bloom so she could make her debut.

He doesn't explicitly say anything, but Chirp suspects that he probably wants to repeat what he almost did with both her and Squak by using Peep as a marriage chip or as a potential successor (ie. bolster the Lords of the Wing's power). Of course, Chirp is hesitant about this, butttt she does recognize that Peep is her own person and whatever Peep chooses, she'll just have to support her daughter (she's defo getting Squak to subtly keep tabs on Peep 24/7 Like yeah sure, he's not exactly the best person to keep someone well-behaved, but all Chirp wants is for Peep to be safe not exactly coddled, and Squak is her ride or die ofc).

Plot twist though!!! Peep has actually been in correspondence with Grandfather for a few years now, although the topic of visiting the fey realm for Peep's first Bloom has only been on the table for a few months. I feel like Peep met Grandfather on one of her secret trips to the fey realm by accident as a kid?? (don't ask how they could meet when Grandpapa is always in the sky and don't ask how Chirp doesn't know about it either). The Lords of the Wing are in a relatively good position socially and politically during these times, so there's no big condition that Peep has to meet in order to be officially allowed into the fey realm. The only condition Grandfather would lay out is that Peep should debut into society as a Lord of the Wing, a rising vicountess.

Remember what I said about Chirp's insecurities about mortality seeping into Peep? So there's this macguffin item that's rumored to give immortality to those who possess it, and it's currently in the fey realm. Since the fey are effectively immortal, that little side effect is meaningless to them, but there's probably another, bigger reason as it why it's important to them. Like sure, Peep could just go in and try to get it, but it's currently in the hands of idk some random court. She needs the leverage of a noble title to get even remotely close to the item. Oh, also I'd like to add that since the effect of the item naturally can only affect one person, I'd feel like Peep would want to give it to Esme. Peep's a halfling, so she's confident that she'll live long enough to figure out an alternative for herself, but she's alright with not living forever. It's her parents' happiness that comes first, anyways.

Depending on whether Peep is genre-savvy or not, she could clear any miscommunications or betrayals along the way by admitting to Grandfather right away that her goal is to procur that item or she could also not, but I'd like to give her a W and say she did explicitly say that in one of her letters to her great grandpappy. Grandfather will help her in exchange for her to be known as the new member of the Lords. Humans are *slowly* being more common in the fey realm, and capitalizing off that trend by introducing a half-human into polite society is a gamble with high rewards. (also yeah, you get to spend time with estranged family woooo...)

When Peep debuts as Vicountess Featherfowl of Fledglington (?? idk about land names), I feel like she'd have a whole new personality to subvert expectations and gather potential suitors who are aligned with her targeted court. Being Chirp's daughter and all, people expected Peep to be just as rambunctious and thrill-seeking (well, she is, but she's not going to show it *that* early). Eventually, Peep's reputation allows her to be known as Vicountess Philippa Featherfowl the Demure, and Peep's steadily on her way to becoming whatever their version of the Diamond of the Season is.

Now, she has a long line of suitors right? And remember what I said about the macguffin being in one random court? There's an interesting prospect in Peep's list of suitors. A noble lady from the Seelie Court (maybe a daughter or granddaughter of Titania's, or even a lady in waiting).

Ok, so Peep's intrigued by this proposal bc

1.) she knows that Chirp had offended the Seelie Court when she was just a toddler,

2.) Peep has enough evidence to conclude that whatever she's looking for might reside in the Seelie Court, and there shouldn't be any harm investigating,

3.) In Chirp's words, the Seelie Court is the "most basic of feys", ie. the most vanilla choice that a girl like Chirp's daughter could make, and this subversion of expectations are likely going to make rounds in the gossip department

4.) It's the Seelie Court, anyways. A safe choice if Peep wants Grandfather's approval

5.) Okay, so maybeee this noble lady is just Peep's type, but that's just a bonus

Of course, this Seelie suitor did not actually want to court Peep willingly. It was an "ooo go entertain this newcomer and bring back all the dirt you got on her" from the King and Queen. Maybe they fall in love, maybe they become unlikey friends? Maybe Peep's true self might surface? Idk I just needed to put some type of conflict bc all my mind is focused on is making my new blorbo living my other blorbo's life but w less angst.

And here I will be contradicting myself on that statement. If they ever become closer, Peep's potential lover/friend is going to realize that oh shit, Peep's not immortal. She'll live long, but not long enough. Their entire argument post-enemies-to-blank is about whether or not Peep should use the macguffin on herself or not. Like this could go so many way. If Peep chooses Esme over herself, the Seelie suitor could either 1.) accept Peep's choice and grapple with the same anxieties Chirp has 2.) find a way to make herself mortal, so she does not have to worry about living a life after Peep. If Peep chooses herself, it's not like her parents would be upset, in fact, they'd be happy that Peep chose her own happiness, but Peep might be riddled with guilt because this was the reason why she came here in the first place. Ultimately, I think Peep will choose Esme, and the Seelie suitor might find a way to become mortal if their bond is that strong enough.

If this is too lacking in action, idk throw in a mage battle between Peep and someone?? I'm actually just here for the Bridgerton-esque drama but like a diet coke version bc this is honestly just a self indulgent fic/headcanon 😅

[kojinnie]

AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon   

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha 

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases  

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good) 

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Four: Lies

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: brief mention of blood, allusions to an abusive household/family, mention of child custody battle, 80s typical misogyny, cursing.

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

I Believe In Love Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Four - Next 

-—-—-—-

He'd lied. You read the name over and over again, the crumpled letter shaking in your hands. Lorenzano. Lorenzano. Lorenzano. He wasn't Max Lord, he was Maxwell Lorenzano and you had no idea how he could lie to you - or better yet, why he would lie to you? There was a reason for everything. You might’ve been new to the world of man, and you might not yet understand their conditions and way of life, but it didn’t change the fact that this hurt. He was your first friend - your first real friend who wasn’t a child. He accepted you into his home, and he even believed you when you told him who you are. You had opened up about being a literal goddess from the secret haven Themyscira, and he hadn’t even told you his real name.

And then, your visions of him… memories and dreams… they hit you one by one. Now you could finally put a face to the voice that had been haunting you. He was the child you saw when you had fallen asleep in Black Gold Cooperative, the child who was getting bullied for the clothes he wore, and his shoes. You felt foolish not realising it sooner. The image of ‘Little Lorenzano’ getting tormented perfectly paralleled the way Alistair had gotten cornered in the park earlier today. Your heart ached for them both.

Max Lord was clearly putting on a brave face in front of you. But now that you knew who he really was, you knew that he was deeply hurting, and he needed your help. He might not realise it, but this is why you were here. You’d come to the world of man to fulfil your duty as the Goddess of Home and Hearth for a reason and Zeus had deliberately connected you with Alistair and Maxwell. This was your purpose. They were your purpose.

You smoothed out the letter to the best of your ability, deciding that if you were to help him, you should probably read it. You had hope that it would help you understand things and allow you to piece together the puzzle. You glanced back at the speckles of his blood in the sink, and the smashed vase on the floor. Whatever was in this letter had clearly angered him.

I, Theodore Thomas IV, share a bond with Miss Grey and recognise that she is a caring and devoted mother. We are in full belief that Alistair Lorenzano would be better off, in the care of his biological mother.

A bond. You were quickly able to identify that Julianna Grey was the mother of Alistiar, although the bond between she and Theodore Thomas IV had not yet become clear to you. Your heart would usually find warmth in the revelation that Julianna was, in fact a ‘caring and devoted’ mother, but instead it grew cold. As the goddess of home and hearth, you could sense the lie in his words. You wanted to believe that Julianna was a good mother, but your intuition said otherwise. These were your powers - and there was no way you were wrong about this. Despite the immediate concern you had for Allistair, you pushed the feeling to the back of your brain and forced yourself to continue reading the letter.

Mr Maxwell Lorenzano and Miss Julianna Grey divorced on the seventh month of 1980 after being married for two years. Miss Grey notes that their relationship was strained since the beginning, with Mr Lorenzano too preoccupied with his career to focus on his family.

Marriage - Max and Julianna were married. It was something you had read about back on Themyscira when you had spent time educating yourself on the ‘way of man’. Marriage was, supposedly, a sacred ritual that joined together the spirits of two people in the name of love. And love was the fundamental principle that would create a family. At the core of a family, was love, and that was the most important thing. Your eyes flicked back up the final sentence of the first paragraph; “We are in full belief that Alistair Lorenzano would be better off, in the care of his biological mother.” You couldn’t help but shake your head profusely. These people wanted to take Alistair away from Max? There was no way. Theodore may think that Julianna deserves Alisitair, but it was never going to be about ‘deserve’. It could only be about love. And you knew for certain that Maxwell loved Alistair with his whole heart.

I have known Miss Grey since 1980, after working on her and Mr Lorenzano’s divorce case. As not only her partner, but also a trusted lawyer of our capitol’s legal enforcement, I can whole-heartedly ensure that sole custody of Alistair Lorenzano must be granted to Miss Julianna Grey.

Divorce was something you weren’t so familiar with, and you figured it should be something you ask Maxwell about at a later date. It was at this moment you learned that Theodore was Julianna’s partner, lover, even. No wonder he thought so highly of her. There was no question about it. You knew you had to pay Julianna and Theodore a visit to see for yourself. You had to see the truth.

Please find us at the District Columbia Court, D.C., in one week from the date stated on the letter. If you make no effort to show and fight your case, you will be banished from seeing Alistair until he turns eighteen years of age.

Banishment? The thought of splitting up Max and Alistair filled you with the most excruciating pain. You couldn’t let this happen. You wouldn’t let this happen.

Sincerely,

Ted

So Theodore was Ted and Maxwell was Max. If you had known that names in the world of man could fluctuate so much, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten mad so mad at Max for lying about his name. After catching the address on the envelope, you engrained it in your memory and carefully folded up the letter and placed it in the pocket of the Maxwell’s pinstripe shirt that he had given you to wear. Now you just had to figure out a way to get to the address on the letter.

You spent some time sweeping up the shattered glass on the floor, and cleaned up the sink before padding back into the living room and sliding your feet back into your gladiator sandals, buckling them up. You even picked up the lasso of truth and tied it around your waist so it acted like a makeshift belt on you. There was no way you were going to leave it behind. You took another look at the photo frame that was on the small table next to the couch and picked it up. You smiled as you felt the exact same love that Maxwell felt when he was in the photo, holding baby Alistair. Just looking at the family portrait filled you with so much joy. You knew that Max’s love for his son was genuine.

Turning the frame over, you opened it up and took the glossy polaroid out, placing it in the same pocket of your shirt. You loved the photo and you wanted to take it wherever you went. 

It was cold outside, and the sky was a deep shade of blue. There was definitely a draft, and you wondered if you should’ve changed back into your Amazonian warrior gear. The oversized shirt that Maxwell had given you, as well as the gladiator sandals, didn’t really provide you with the greatest amount of warmth. You weren’t even wearing anything on your legs.

A small old lady with a zimmer frame was walking down the street. “Oh wow!” she exclaimed, looking you up and down, presumably judging your outfit of choice. “You have very nice legs, but aren’t you cold?”

You looked down at your legs, noticing the goose pimples, and nodded in confirmation. “Yes, but I’ll be okay. Do you think you could help me with something?” you asked curiously, watching as she raised her eyebrows.

“Me? Help you? What could little old me-”

You took the letter out of your pocket and pointed to the address. “How do I get here?”

She adjusted her glasses and squinted. “Thomas Family Lawyers,” she read out loud, before turning back to you. “Honey, this law firm is on the other side of Georgetown. You best call a cabbie, especially this late in the evening.”

“A cabbie?” you asked, shivering in the cold. “I’m sorry… I’m not from round here.” you shrugged helplessly.

“Let me help you.” the old lady said, reaching into her purse and bringing out an enormous 1984 brick-like cell phone. The contraption shocked you, and you even wondered how she had fit it in her bag. She pulled out the antenna and began to dial a number. “Hi, could I get a pre-paid taxi to Thomas Family Law Firm, Georgetown? Thank you,” She put the phone back in her purse and offered you a smile. “A cab won’t be long. I’m Mrs Stagg, by the way. Might I enquire… why are you going to a family law firm when you’re not even from the area?”

“To help a friend.” you returned the smile.

“Does your friend live in this neighbourhood?” 

“He does. Um… his name is Max Lord?” you explained but the way it left your lips made it sound more like a question. Lord? Lorenzano? What difference did it make?

“Ah,” was the small sound that emitted from Mrs Stagg’s throat. “Max Lord, the oil guy. My son Simon is- was an investor for Maxwell’s company. From what I heard, the company is bust. A joke. Max Lord has been scamming the entire nation for years.”

“Scamming?” you asked, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Black Gold Cooperative have shares in oil fields all around the world, only, the oil fields have completely dried up, you know - with the Cold War and all. But he kept going… kept making those silly infomercials and selling his dream. ‘Anything you want, you can have it.’ or something like that.” Mrs Stagg scoffed, shaking her head incredulously. You recognised the quote from when you had seen him all suited up on the television. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would he lie to the whole country?” you beckoned further, despite the conversation bringing you some uncomfort. Max had seemed like a genuinely good guy and a loving father up until this point. 

“For money, I suppose. That’s all it’s ever about with folk like him. Money. I chastise my son for it too. He’s the CEO of Stagg Industries and the only reason I could live in such a beautiful neighbourhood like this one. He bought my home here,” she beamed proudly. “But, I don’t know much about Max Lord. Don’t really see him around on the streets either. He must be cooped up in his office most of the time. Hey, you’re his friend. Maybe you should ask him why he’s nothing but a low-life conman.” 

Her words stung, and they weren’t even about you. You were completely lost for words, and surprised that she had so much hate in her heart for Max. Granted, if he was rivals with her son, it would make sense, but she did raise many questions that concerned you greatly. When the taxi pulled up, she paid the driver and helped you into the passenger seat. “I don’t know Max Lord,” she whispered from the other side of the car door. “But please darling, be careful.” She warned you before the cabbie whisked you away.

Your concept of time was slightly askew, but you figured the journey to the law firm lasted twice as long as the journey from Black Gold to Max’s home. You looked out the window taking in the stunning city at night. The buildings were all lit up and reflected against the windows, creating a glitter in your eye. There was nothing like this on Themyscira. No tall skyscrapers, no enormous shopping malls or company buildings. D.C. was booming, and it was beautiful. The journey allowed you to process Mrs Stagg’s words and think even more about Max. Clearly, both Julianna and Theodore had their reasons not to like Maxwell, and now, so did Mrs Stagg and her son Simon. You had to speak to Max and confront him. You knew there was more to him than what meets the eye.

Thomas Family Lawyer’s was a big building, not as big as Black Gold Cooperative, but it was still big. Just as you went through the revolving doors (which you had now grown accustomed to, due to your time spent and Max’s office) a group of girls began to file out. Whilst Raquel had been somewhat confused by your presence, these girls shot you the most evil of stares.

“Do you know what time it is? Office hours are closed. Why are you here?” One girl with sleek black hair spat coldly. You practically winced at the malice in her voice.

“Oh, I’m here to see Theodore Thomas?” you said slowly, nervously biting your lip.

“Who are you?” quizzed the same ebony haired girl.

“I’m a friend of Max Lord.” was the only thing you could come out with. Maxwell had warned you to refrain from identifying yourself as the ‘goddess of home and hearth’ in front of the public. He told you that people won’t believe him like he does, and that they’ll think you’re crazy. You had no choice but to believe him.

“Max Lord!” a red haired girl gasped, and a shorter blonde girl slapped her hand over the redhead’s mouth. “Sorry,” the redhead muffled as the blonde girl removed her hand. “He’s just so sexy.”

“But you know we’re not supposed to like him.” The blonde girl hissed.

“Huh?” you asked, knotting your eyebrows together. “Not supposed to?”

The ebony haired girl let out a longing groan. “Will the both of you just shut up?” she grimaced, glaring at the other two girls before looking back at you with that same mean stare. “Turn left, his office is the big one at the bottom of the corridor. You’re lucky he’s working late tonight.” 

“Yeah, on his girlfriend’s case.” The redhead said weakly.

“Can you not keep your mouth shut?” Snapped the black haired girl. “Why would you say that in front of this hobo stranger when she’s just said she’s Max Lord’s friend. She doesn’t need to know that Mr Thomas is working on the custody case! It’s a wonder he hasn’t fired you yet for being so stupid.”

You had zoned out of the pointless conversation about mid-way through anyway. Those girls were nothing but rude to each other anyway. You slipped past them and down the corridor until you reached two double doors, not hesitating for a second to open them up.

There, with his head buried down into a pile of papers, was a dark haired man in a tight fitted suit. He abruptly looked up when you had entered his office, his mustache wavering in bewilderment as he took in the appearance of a girl who was wearing nothing but an oversized button up shirt and brown strapped gladiator sandals. “C-can I help you?” he gulped, relishing the sight of his body like it was the sweetest view he’d ever come across. You crossed your bare legs together awkwardly, feeling slightly vulnerable by the way he was staring at you. 

“Are you Theodore Thomas IV?” you asked.

“I am.” the dark haired man confirmed, shuffling around in his leather seat.

You nodded, turning around to close the double doors behind you and walking over to his desk. You took out the crumpled up letter that had been addressed to Maxwell Lorenzano and slid it over the expensive oak wood. “What is this?” you questioned. Theodore took out his reading glasses before analysing it.

“Where did you get this letter?”

“Max Lord is my friend.” you gulped, folding your arms over your chest. “And this letter…”

“You mean Maxwell Lorenzano?” Theodore scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Listen, I’m not here to discuss that low-life loser, okay? I have more pressing matters to deal with.”

“So do I.” you persisted. “This letter…”

“Unless you’re his lawyer, and I doubt you are,” he snarled, looking at you up and down with the utmost disdain. “I will not be discussing the letter with you. Friend or not, it’s confidential.”

“I’m here to help him.” you gritted out, unable to believe the anger that dripped from your own tongue. It was true, you were angry. You were angry at the way everyone was so against Maxwell Lord, and you were angry at the fact the reason remained so unclear. Every new person you met didn’t like him, and you just wanted to know why.

Your words did pique the curiosity of Theodore, however. He raised an eyebrow and leaned over his desk, his gaze not breaking from you once. “Help him? You mean, you’ll be representing him in court?” You weren’t sure what that meant, but you nodded your head. If this was the only way you could get information out of Theodore Thomas IV, then so be it. “Do you even have any legal experience?”

“What? No. I told you, I’m just his friend.”

Theodore let out a boisterous laugh, the level of volume making you flinch. “Shit, he can’t even afford his own lawyer. I didn’t realise it was that bad,” he assumed. “Excuse me for one second.” he pointed a finger and dialled a number on the telephone.

Meanwhile, Maxwell was Julianna’s home. When Alistair heard his dad’s voice, he came running downstairs to greet him. “Daddy!” he called excitedly, running into his father’s arms. “You came back!” Maxwell picked up Alistair and spun him around, pressing a loving kiss to his son’s forehead.

“What do you want Maxwell?” Julianna sighed, tapping her foot impatiently against the marble floor of the lobby.

“To talk,” Max answered, placing Alistair back down on the floor. “Just us two. Uh- is Ted here?”

“Lucky for you he’s working late at the firm. Working on our damn case,” Julianna shook her head before turning to face her son. “Alistair, go to your room.” she commanded.

“But I want to see daddy!” Alistair cried, tears pricking his dark brown eyes.

“He can stay.” Maxwell negotiated but the comment was completely lost on Julianna.

“Go. To. Your. Room.” Julianna barked angrily, which sent a frightened Alistair running back to his bedroom.

“Shit Julianna, he’s just a kid. No need to talk to him like that.” Maxwell frowned, his ex-wife’s tone reminding him of his own father’s.

“Now Maxwell, I know you’re not giving me parenting advice, are you?” she asked sarcastically. Maxwell noted how bitter she had become, or perhaps, how bitter she always was. “I’m assuming you’re here to talk about the case. Try and change my mind. Well, you can’t.”

“Julianna, I know things have been rough between us since the divorce but I just want what’s best for Alistair. I love him so much.” Maxwell revealed.

“Bullshit!” Julianna scowled. “All you do, Max, is speak bullshit. You want what’s best for him? You’ll allow me and Ted to have full custody of Alistair. You’re a shit father and you know it.”

“I know- I know I’m messed up. I mean, I’ve messed up in the past but, something happened. Something inside me woke up and I’m ready to step up Julianna. I’ve changed, please just believe me. I love Ali-”

“You don’t deserve him,” Julianna growled. “You know what Maxwell? You’re nothing but a deadbeat. Just like your father was.”

Maxwell felt his face turn red with rage at his ex-wife's comment. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles had even turned white. “I am nothing like my father!” Maxwell yelled defensively as the anger bubbled within him. He wanted to cry. Every time a memory of his own abusive father came up, it made Max want to curl up into a whole and cry. It broke him.

Before Julianna could reply, the phone on the wall began to ring. Julianna answered it.

“Hey, Julie?” Theodore was on the line, still laughing from his talk with you. “Baby, you won’t believe this.”

“What is it?” Julianna asked hesitantly, twirling the wire of the phone around her finger.

“Some girl- some half naked girl is here- in my office claiming to be a friend of Maxwell,” Theodore spluttered. You frowned at his tone of voice as he talked about you, right in front of you. Julianna turned to Maxwell in bewilderment, who was just standing there and had no idea what was going on. “She’s saying she’s going to represent him during the custody trial.”

“What?” Julianna spat. “Who the fuck is she?”

“I don’t know! Never seen her in my life. Pretty little thing though, I guessed maybe he’s fucking her? Not sure. She says she’s living with him.”

“Living-” Julianna couldn’t help but repeat her boyfriend’s words. “Teddy, Maxwell is here. Right now. Can you come home and… bring her with you? I want to have words with her.”

“Got it. See you soon sweetie.” Theodore finished before hanging up the phone.

Julianna turned to Max. “That was Theodore. He says some half naked girl has shown up to his office claiming to be a friend of yours.”

Maxwell’s eyes went comically wide as his greatest fears became realised. “What? No, no- there’s no way. That’s impossible. I told her to stay at home- how the hell did she get to Thomas Family Lawyer’s?”

“You’re asking me?” Julianna gasped in disbelief. “Who the hell is she, Max?”

Max was so confused and shocked, he couldn’t even find words. If you had found your way to Theodore’s office, that meant you had read the letter. It also meant that you knew his name. And finally, it meant that you had completely invaded your privacy. Part of Maxwell was mad, but an even bigger part of him was confused as to how you ended up on the other side of Georgetown in the office of his ex-wife’s current boyfriend. You weren’t even from round here, hell, you’d only gotten into a car for the first time today. Julianna and Theodore weren’t the only ones who had a thousand questions. Maxwell did too.

When you arrived at the Thomas family home, you looked at it with complete adoration, just like how you looked at Maxwell’s home. It was extensive in size, with beautiful pillars and adorned with flowers on every corner. Maxwell and Julianna were waiting for you and Ted in the dining room. Ted hung up his suit jacket on the coat peg in the lobby and you slowly followed him into the dining room. Unlike Maxwell’s home, which was covered with photographs of Alistair, you couldn’t spot a single picture of the bright eyed child in any of the rooms you passed. You wondered why.

When you entered the room, Julianna’s and Maxwell’s jaws both dropped in unison. “She’s wearing your shirt!” Julianna screeched, pointing her finger accusingly at you. 

“Yeah? So fucking what?” Maxwell shot back. “I didn’t realise you can police my wardrobe now!”

Your gaze flicked between Maxwell and Julianna who were already arguing with each other. "Can we settle down?" Theodore intervened, placing his briefcase down on the table.

Maxwell turned to you and took a deep breath. "Why- why didn't you put on some clothes before you left the house?" he sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to keep his composure.

"I- I didn't have any clothes and. I didn't know if it was normal to dress like this in the world of man." you admitted sheepishly, feeling embarrassed that you'd made a fool of yourself and seemingly Maxwell too.

"The world of what?" Julianna scrunched up her nose. "She has no clothes? Maxwell, where did you pick this whore up?"

You stiffened up at her harsh words and Maxwell's dark eyes snapped open. "Don't call her that," he warned. "She's… different. Look, I can't explain now but-"

Julianna turned to Theodore. "I want her out of my house. She's a fucking prostitute."

"She's not a prostitute," Maxwell sighed, running his fingers through his dark blonde hair as the stress engulfed him. "She's just a friend."

"I want her out." Julianna reiterated, her voice like venom.

"I- I can wait by the car," you told Maxwell timidly. He didn't reply, instead just putting his head in his hands. You turned to Julianna and Theodore. "I apologise for any intrusion I may have brought upon you both." you said before walking away.

Even before you got to the front door, you'd heard them start fighting again. Maxwell wasn't yelling, but Julianna was so loud and accusing. You couldn't help but feel like she brought around such a toxic environment.

As you leaned against Maxwell's car, you looked up at the upstairs window. It was illuminated, signifying that the light was on. It was so cold and you couldn't help but sigh as you waited for your friend to return and take you home— if he still liked you, that is. After everything that had gone on, you wouldn't be surprised if he just left you on a street corner to fend for yourself. 

You were delighted when you saw Alistair in the illuminated window. He poked his head around the curtains, smiling and waving immediately when he saw you. You grinned back, thankful to see the sweet boy and to know that he was okay. The smile on his face dropped and although you couldn't hear what was going on back in the house, you could tell by his expression that there was something wrong. Alistair disappeared from the curtains and you began to untie the lasso of Hestia from your waist. Swinging the rope around in the air, you attached it to Alistair's balcony and swung yourself up to the third storey of the Thomas family home. You quietly tapped on his window. After only a few seconds Alistair returned and let you in.

You clambered back into the house, finding yourself in the little boys bedroom. "Hey Alistair, how you doing?" you smiled, kneeling down and giving your friend a hug.

"I'm good, I'm so glad to see you again!" Alistair confessed with a toothy grin. "How did you get up here?" Alistair asked curiously, stepping out onto the balcony and looking at the long way down from where you had been standing by his father's car.

You gulped. "Can you keep a secret?" you whispered. Alistair nodded enthusiastically. "Okay." you showed Alistair your lasso, and he watched it with bright eyes as it glowed gold. If you could trust Max, you knew for a fact you could certainly trust Alistair. After all, they were your purpose. They were the reason you had found yourself in the world of man.

"Whoa, what is it?" Alistair asked, pointing his finger hesitantly, as if he wanted to touch it but not sure if it would hurt him.

"It's magical," you revealed. "My mother Hestia gave me it. It lets people see the truth, and speak the truth. It knows when you're lying."

"...And it helps you climb up really tall buildings? Like Spiderman?" Alistair asked with wide eyes.

You giggled. "Yes."

"Can I try?" Alistair beckoned further.

"Maybe one day," you promised him. "It can be difficult to learn, but I'd love to teach you." 

You and Alistair both gasped as you listened in on what was going downstairs. You heard footsteps, and it sounded like Max was leaving. You rose to your feet and approached the window again, unravelling your lasso. "Hey, I have to go now. Listen, you can't tell Julianna or Ted that I was up here, okay? I don't think they like me."

"Oh, they don't like anyone who's associated with daddy." Alistair frowned, but nodded understandingly. "Are you going home with daddy?"

"I hope so." you replied, because there was really no way of telling where you stood with Maxwell at this point in time.

"Good," Alistair beamed, and in that moment, you recognised his smile to be the spitting double of his father's. "Because I like it when you're around daddy. He's not as miserable."

You tilted your head but had no time to question Alistair because you heard the front door open. Swinging back on your lasso, you attached it to the branch of a tree and dropped back down to the front of the porch where Maxwell's car was parked. Wrapping your lasso back around your waist, you pretended like you hadn't moved from the car— like you had been waiting for him this entire time.

"Good night!" Maxwell called but earned no response, only the slam of the front door. He sighed deeply and slumped his shoulders in defeat before turning to face you. His lips were curled into a frown and he shook his head as he approached you, sliding past you and unlocking the car door. "Get in." he told you, to which you obliged and slipped into the passenger seat.

Maxwell dropped his head to the wheel of the car in frustration. He wanted to scream. Cry. Yell. Curse. He hated this. He hated having to fight for what was already his. He needed Alistair— his life would be empty without his son. There was no question about it. And unfortunately for Max, he was beginning to lose all hope.

"Are you okay?" You asked, feeling as though the question was a stupid one considering the disheveled look on Maxwell's face. You placed a hand on his back with full intention to be comforting. He didn't reply. After a few seconds of silence, you heard his sobs. You heard his whimpers and chokes. "Oh Max." you whispered quietly, rubbing his back.

"I can't— I can't fucking do this," Maxwell cried, tears dripping down his cheeks and falling onto the steering wheel. "They're right— what they say about me— they're all right. I'm a monster."

You winced, shaking your head at his comment. "You are not a monster." you assured him.

"You don't even know me," Maxwell huffed before glaring at you, the tears still falling. "You're just— you're just some random girl who came into my life at the wrong fucking time and— I don't even know why you're here. Why are you here?" He said your name like it was poison and the desperation in his voice was enough to make your heart ache.

You swallowed. "When I found out your name, your real name, I knew for certain… Zeus brought me to you and Alistair for a reason. Everything is so clear now. Max, I'm here to help you."

"I'm screwed— we’re screwed. It's pointless. There's nothing we can do. We can't go up against them. Julianna is a fucking psycho and Ted is one of the best family lawyers in the state—"

"And I'm the daughter of Zeus and Hestia. I'm the Goddess of Home and Hearth and I will not let them rip you away from Alistair." you promised with pure determination in your voice. The change of your tone was enough to make Maxwell stop crying and look up to you like you were his saviour. His angel. And despite everything that happened, despite the feeling of complete hopelessness, he believed you.

The war began now.

-—-—-—-

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Do Not Fight Back - Yandere Purge AU

Hey! So this was part of a server wide event I did with other members of Lovesick! They’re all super amazing and you should DEF check out the others who took part! This is inspired by the yandere purge AU created by @yanderemommabean (we have permission to use the AU). Read the linked post to find out more, but to cut things short. Yandere’s are legally free to capture their darlings, and it lasts from 6pm to 6am!

Beta’d by the best person ever: @drxwsyni

This contain YANDERE CONTENT!!!

---

It’s yandere purge night and you’re accidentally outside when it starts. It would be a shame if a certain flame hero was watching...

--- Your job ran late today, because of course it fucking did. It was yandere purge night, not that your boss seemed all that concerned. Although, from the look on his face…well, best not think about that. He probably wasn’t after you, hopefully. You walked down the urban street, past the closed shops and locked buildings. You glanced towards the sunset, the sun's orange glow disappearing over the horizon. Wait, what? It wasn’t THAT late, right? Sure, work ran late, but you finished at 5 PM, not 6 PM?

You opened your phone, you had…a minute before the sirens…fuck.

You dashed into an alley, crouching next to a vending machine, it wasn’t ideal, but staying out there could mean certain death. You’re an idiot for even letting this happen to you. You’re NEVER meant to remain outside during tonight. A yandere could kill you if they even THINK you’re trying to interfere. You rummage through your pockets...nothing except a phone and some loose coins.

The sirens ring throughout the city

No weapon, no quirk, no safety, no chance. You hold your head in your hands, freaking out. No one would think of helping you, you could be a yandere trying to get at them. Your best bet is to stay here until it is over, potentially using the vending machine for dinner.

Your phone buzzes.

---6:01PM---

[HellFire]: Hello.

[HellFire]: You do not know who I am, but I have been keeping my eye on you for a long time.

[You]: Oh god…please don’t say you’re after me…

[HellFire]: I propose a hunt.

[HellFire]: I catch you, the obvious happens.

[HellFire]: You evade me for the next 12 hours? You go free.

[HellFire]: The rules? Always keep your phone on you and online, I will be sending messages. Respond to my messages, or you will pay dearly. Do not worry about other people, if they try to hurt you, I will burn them to ash. If I catch you, no fighting back. Break any of the rules, and there will be hell to pay.

[You]: What?! Can I at least ask some questions? Is my phone bugged? Do you know where I am now? Can I hide or do I have to keep running? Why me?

[HellFire]: Mind, I do not expect you to win. I am the number one hero for a reason.

[HellFire]: The hunt begins. Do try to have fun tonight, my dear.  

…Endeavor?! Enji Todoroki, the number one hero, was after you?! You’d be flattered if you weren’t shaking with fear. You try to take some deep breaths.

---6:03PM---

[HellFire]: I would run, my darling… I doubt hiding behind a vending machine will do you any favours….

[You]: How do you know my location already?!

You run out of the alley; the street illuminated poorly by streetlights. Enji knew where you were, specifically that you were behind a vending machine. He’s either got cameras, or he was right in your line of sight. You sprint down the street, most people aren’t stupid enough to be out, and you give most yanderes a wide berth. You see one with a darling, you force your eyes away and continue to run.

Your lungs are burning, exercise isn’t your strong point, and one can’t operate on adrenaline alone.

---6:09PM---

[HellFire]: Tired already? I did not realise you were so weak…such a pity, I expected a fight from you…

[You]: No one expects to be running down a street from a goddamn villain?!

[HellFire]: …disrespect?

[HellFire]: Unacceptable.

As you’re running, a car behind you blows up, fire scattering onto the street. You still can’t see him.

You notice a mall still open. None of the shops would be in business, but the area might provide a suitable hiding place. You run into it, sliding doors opening to let you into the air-conditioned space. You steal a glance behind you, no one visible on the street or rooftops.

---6:11PM---

[HellFire]: A shopping centre? I hope you do not expect a gaudy fountain to save you.

[You]: Fuck you, honestly.

[HellFire]: That is quite a bold statement for someone in your position.

[HellFire]: Most criminals at this point are kissing my boots, begging for mercy, and yet, you show defiance. Breaking you should be fun.

You run down a corridor, reaching an entirely empty circular food court. Fast food shops line the walls, with two, opposite facing exits to the area, both leading onto streets. Silence is abundant as you run through, dodging chairs and tables, desperate to make it to the other side.

The sound of an electronic sliding door reaches your ears. Panicking, you dive over a business’s countertop, hiding behind it as you try not to breathe too loudly. You hastily switch your notifications off, so him texting you won’t reveal your location.

---6:15PM---

[HellFire]: You know something I learnt from my job?

[You]: What?

[HellFire]: Someone can know they are being hunted, but not know they are already trapped. The villains are overburdened by fear and hope, of both capture and escape. They desperately reach their hands out to touch a goal you know is impossible to reach.

[HellFire]: That feeling… of knowing their entire future is at my mercy…

[HellFire]: is sublime.

[HellFire]: …

[HellFire]: Say, how are you finding that uncomfortable food stall floor?

“Hello, darling…”

“No! Get away from me!”

You bound over the counter, avoiding his hands, and desperately try to reach the exit. You turn around, and he is just…standing there. Looking at you. With a smirking grin on his face. He’s wearing his hero suit, flames dancing up his body. He loves this, he likes thinking you’re some object to be captured. You run out onto the street, cold night air hitting you in the face, the sun has entirely disappeared now, all traces of it gone.

Where the hell can you go that you’ll be safe?! It hasn’t even been 30 minutes of this torture; you’ve got so much time left! Panting, you notice he has exited the building too, but he just stands there, looking at you, grin adorning his face. You spot a train station.

You run towards the train station and don’t look back. You jump the ticket gate, feeling that your life matters more than a civic duty. You run up the stairs onto the platform. The trains won’t be running, but maybe you can run along the tracks if it comes down to it? As you try to catch your breath, you realise something…you turned your phone notifications off in the mall, which means he could be messaging you, and you wouldn’t know.

Scrambling you pull out your phone.

---6:22---

[HellFire]: If I were you, I would not take another step towards that train station.

[HellFire]:  ...?

[HellFire]: Oh, are you not checking your messages now?

[HellFire]: I warned you, remember that…

---6:30---

[You]: I’m sorry! I swear, I didn’t mean to ignore it! It was my phone

[HellFire]: I can not believe what I just saw.

[HellFire]: You leapt over that gate like a common criminal.

[HellFire]: So, now I have to punish you for multiple reasons. You ignored so many rules…

[You]: I didn’t mean to, I swear! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!

[HellFire]: You fought back when you were captured.

[You]: It wasn’t fighting back?! It was escaping, capture would be grabbing me.

[HellFire]: You didn’t check your messages.

[You]: Like I said, my phone was off, it was an accident!

[HellFire]: You IGNORED my commands.

[You]: My phone was off! I didn’t KNOW there were commands!

[HellFire]: You broke the law.

[You]: I was going to go back and pay the $1.50 tomorrow!

[HellFire]: And we are only 30 minutes into this hunt.

[HellFire]: Tell me, darling.

[HellFire]: Did you really think you could outrun me?

[HellFire]: The top hero?

[HellFire]: I knew you were not the smartest person, considering, well, everything about you.

[HellFire]: But this really takes the cake.

[You]: Oh, honestly, fuck you. Why do you even WANT me?! We’ve NEVER met!

 [HellFire]: …you’re quite disrespectful…

[HellFire]: I will have to fix that.

“Face me.”

You whip around to see him staring at you, sadistic grin adorning his face. You turn to run, but his large hands grab your arms, holding you in place. He picks you up and turns you around, so you’re facing him. His hands are noticeably warmer than they should be.

“There. Captured enough for you?” He says with a smirk.

“Please! Just let me go!” You shout, struggling against his arms fruitlessly. You scream and kick, managing to bring a foot against his knee. He noticeably winces.

“I warned you about fighting back, you insolent brat!” His face steels as his hands become warmer. You can now feel his breath down your face as your squirm, desperate to escape the burning hands and singing clothes.

“I…I…Why me?!” Tears start to fall down your face as you realise this might be your fate.

“Because you shouldn’t be anyone else’s. Do you recall that train villain? Such a stupid villain, but I digress. I saw you try to help people, helping people off the train when it arrived at the station and calming that little kid. It was so…kind, so generous. You were a true hero. I need that in my life, so you are mine.” He at least has the decency to not look you directly in the eyes. His hands cooled down a bit while he was speaking. He seems somewhat ashamed by what he’s done.

Somewhat.

“You could’ve just approached me! Hell, I’m not going to turn down a meeting with the number one hero?! You’re a fucking idiot!”

“Attacking someone while they are vulnerable is usually considered bad form, brat. But I see you have no qualms attacking me.” His palms heat up again, but he seems to have a looser grip on you. Maybe if you…

“I’m sorry, okay? This is just a lot to take in. I…I do admire you, as a hero y’know? I always considered you so calming. You made the city feel so much s-safer, you made ME feel safer.” You look him in the eyes, trying to act as small and gentle as possible. His warm breath washes over your body as he seems to re-examine you. Just a little bit further and…

You bring your knee into his lungs as he is breathing in, winding him. He drops you and you turn on your heel and jump onto the train tracks, running off down the tracks.

He shouts after you.

“Bad idea brat! You want to be punished? Fine then!”

You stare ahead, no trains seem to be running, so you won’t have to make a choice between death and getting run over by a train. You follow the train tracks until you reach a tunnel. You turn around and see him merely walking menacingly toward you, not even running. He has such an angry look on his face, flame beard shooting out in rage. The fire touches a signal box, and it melts to the ground almost instantly. Yeah, no, you aren’t dealing with that. You turn and run inside the tunnel, desperate to escape him. You hear a roar from behind you as fire shoots past your head, hitting the cylindrical wall and dissipating.

“I missed on purpose, stop at once! I will not hesitate you ungrateful bitch!”

You stop and turn around to face him, tremors running through your body.

“Stop approaching me, please?! Can’t we just talk?!” You say shuffling back with each step he takes towards you.

He raises an eyebrow, and astonishingly, he stops, about 8 paces away.

“Fine.”

“I…please, just let me go! I don’t want this!” you say, tears running down your face.

“And why would I care what YOU want, bitch?”

“Because y-you love me o-or ..desire me or something?!”

“Pfft. Maybe, but you know how this works by now.” He takes a step forward, you stand still. His flames cast flickering shadows against the tunnel walls.

“I’m sure you have co-workers, family, friends, who disappeared never to be seen again, OR have a pet of their own.” He takes a step forward, you stand still. His feet leave the rocks red hot.

“You know you cannot escape me. It has not even been an hour.” He steps forward, you stand still. You can feel his heat now.

“Do you expect to run all over the city, making daring escapes and just barely being able to stay out of my grasp for 12 hours? To evade capture from the number one hero?” He steps forward, you stand still. His flames die down, but your body feels like it’s overheating.

“You woke up at 5:12 AM today and had a shift from 7 AM to 5:45 PM. You are not going to be able to keep up this adrenaline and energy til 6AM tomorrow. Being awake for 24 hours is not an easy feat, my dear.“ He steps forward, you stand still. Your tears on your face start to evaporate.

“Oh, do remind me to thank your boss for keeping you late. Money does wonders to people's sense of ethics.” He steps forward, you stand still. He chuckles quietly at the situation and examines your body.

“You cannot escape me, you have no quirk, no talents, no skills. This is not a fair fight because it is not a fight, my dear. It is a hunt, and you seem to have this silly notion that the fox can escape the hound.” He steps forward, you stand still. His hand reaches out to grab your arm, and you do nothing to stop it.

“Advice for your new life, when I give a command, my dear, it helps to oblige. So, hear me when I say: Do. Not. Fight. Back.”

You do not fight back.  

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 13

Maul x Apprentice Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

WARNINGS: Pretty sure I got the layout wrong for the Sundari palace but I don’t care. Canon typical violence. Divergence from Canon (obviously by now) mentions to smut

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       Just over a month is all it had taken to gain the complete loyalty of the Mandalorian people. If you were being honest with yourself, you were almost surprised. Not in the fact that Maul had been able to accomplish this but at how quickly he had achieved it. The Death Watch members that had remained as your guard had always wanted the head of Satine but now half of the citizens called for it as well while the other half wanted her in prison for life. A month was all it took to remind the people of their rich history and culture that they had all but forgotten Satine had stolen from them. Farm lands were seeded, armor was being forged again, their religion and martial arts were being taught in the schools once again and everyone felt safer than they had in years. They hadn’t realized what they were missing until they had it again. Once they were on track to total planetary independence once again, they wanted nothing more than for the woman who stole it from them to pay.

    Maul smiled to himself; his people wanted revenge. How could he not oblige even if it didn’t simultaneously serve to accomplish his ulterior motive? It was time. He had sent Kiara down to the prison with a long-distance communicator so she could falsely convince Satine that she was there to aid her. Before she could get her whole message to her old lover, Kiara destroyed the device. All Obi Wan knew was that the only woman he had ever loved was in danger. Although he thought the perpetrators were members of the Death Watch. He remained ignorant of what he was really going to be walking into.

    With Savage out praising Kiara for a job well done, you and your lover were sparring in the court yard just the two of you. Sparring with your lover and Master had become your favorite activity to do together. Well, second favorite you thought as you felt one of the many lovely bruises on the inside of your thigh throb. If you had to describe Maul in a single word it would be passionate. He drew from the well of his hearts more than he probably knew himself. Whether he was making love to you, commanding a room or sparring; every action, every word was embodied by his very soul.

    It wasn’t even about training anymore so much as it was a dance with him. The red of your sabers sparked as they clashed and hissed with his joking mock growls as they slashed through the air. The twinkle in his eye that matched yours was permanent during these moments as your bodies glided around one another. The bond you had nurtured during your time together made anticipating one another’s moves effortless. It made victory or defeat almost impossible. Without intervention the two of you would be locked in this dance for all eternity much like an asteroid floating through space. Yes, that’s what it felt like in this moment; drifting through the universe with him.

    Days had passed since Savage had trained with his brother. Time between his teachings had grown as the responsibilities piled on both of their shoulders. Savage actually appreciated this, it allowed his relationship with his brother to be just that, a brotherly relationship. Not that of Master and apprentice but not quite equals either. That would come in time. Maul hadn’t grown up like Savage did so the idea was still a foreign one and as far as exploring bonds and relationships went, most of that energy was directed towards you.

    It turns out, ruling an entire planet was taxing and time consuming to say the least when done properly. Big surprise. As an attempt to lift some of the weight off of his shoulders Maul had appointed his brother to take the brunt of running the crime syndicates in his name. Savage flourished in his leadership role. He was so intimidating at first glance that no one in the underworld dared question or go against him. Maul only had to be present for the occasional formality and big picture decisions.

    The intervention necessary to end your deadly dance came in the form of an intrusive anticipation of Obi Wan’s arrival. When you stumbled your footing, Maul caught you in one of his strong arms and sheathed his saber with his free hand, breaking the trance the two of you had been in for gods know how long.

“My love, are you alright? I haven’t seen you fumble during that particular form since Dathomir,” he ran his free hand across your cheek and if you had a weaker resolve, you would have sobbed at the way he looked at you in this moment. Genuine adoration and worry gleamed in his golden eyes. He looked into you as if you had hung the stars themselves and commanded every ocean in the galaxy. You steadied yourself and cupped his cheek, mirroring his own actions and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Yes, Maul I’m alright. I’m just a little distracted I guess. When do you think the Jedi will fall into your trap?” Maul smiled at your lack of patience.

“I’m not sure, the message was only sent out to him during the early hours of this morning. Soon I would imagine. A few days at most, a few hours at the earliest.” You looked off to the side and sneered, “should I ever be captured you wouldn’t wait days to come and find me.”

He actually laughed out loud at this as he pulled you into a tight embrace and you seared the memory of his laughter as deeply into your mind as you could.

“My love I would never had let you out of my sight long enough for us to be parted in the first place,” he cooed into your ear as he pressed kisses into your hair.

    The funny thing about irony is the fact that you can truly only understand the weight of it in hindsight. If he could go back to any minute between your sparing session and that he had a multitude of possible courses of actions that would have altered the current horror he was facing. He should have put you on a ship and sent you away, temporarily or permanently it didn’t matter as long as you were far away from Mandalore that night. You had even mentioned wanting to take a trip with him to a world covered in sand beaches. He should have left with you right then and there when you suggested it. Even if nothing could have been done to alter the course of what had occurred, he wished he had held you a little tighter, kissed you a little longer, told you he loved you one more time before night fell.

    He hadn’t sensed his old master’s presence until it was almost too late. His eyes widened and he ordered you to hide your force signature like he had taught you and to run. Run as fast and as far away as you could. You had never been one to argue with him during emergency situations, you had trusted him to make the right calls when it mattered most. Perhaps he should’ve kept you by his side in that moment. He didn’t know. He wished you had never come back.

    You had felt Maul’s immediate panic the moment you sensed another strong presence, when he told you to run you didn’t hesitate to follow his order. Leaving your lover and his brother, your best friend alone in the throne room to face an unknown foe broke you in a way you had never broken before. You slipped behind the throne and plunged yourself into the hole beneath it that led to an escape tunnel and ran as silently as you could through the hidden passage way that fanned out through the palace.

    You exited the tunnels from behind a tapestry that hung from the stone wall near one of the many side entrances. A ship you didn’t recognize was landing, rather poorly, not far from your location. You did however recognize the Jedi that came running out of it. When his eyes locked with yours you felt his rage radiate from him but his voice remained calm when he spoke.

“So, Maul is behind the coup. Where is Satine and where is your Master?” he held the hilt of his saber in his hands but didn’t ignite it just yet, thumb hovering over the activation button.

“Otherwise occupied at the moment. Your timing is impeccable I must admit,” your hands hovered over your own dual hilts strapped to each leg. Both of you waiting for the other to make an aggressive move, you circled around one another. You couldn’t let Kenobi pass you, not now. Not while your master was dealing with this new threat. You had only heard Maul speak of his former master on two occasions. Both of which had a spark of the emotion you felt through him when he told you to run. If he really was battling the powerful Sith Lord he couldn’t risk Kenobi coming and adding an opponent to the list. The answer to the true question that glinted in your mind would decide the outcome of the night. Did the Jedi fear your Master or his more?

    Both you and the Jedi snapped out of your unblinking stare when a flaring pain ripped through the force. He turned to you, “what in the name of the force was that?”

You gulped in worry of your lover’s condition. You couldn’t run you had to help him. His last order was one you could not follow, “his master is here.”

“Dooku is here?” You actually gave yourself a mere second to scoff at his ignorance, “Dooku was not his master. Dooku is the apprentice he took when you debilitated Maul.”

    Obi Wan stood there in shock. The council had started to suspect that Dooku was in fact not the Master but the apprentice. If the true Master was here, the man who orchestrated the clone war, and Maul was fighting him in this moment; perhaps they could end everything right now. End the war, stop the never-ending meat grinder and save the lives of the clones he cared for; his commander. As if the both of you thought the same thing at once, you took off running back to the throne room together in a temporary alliance but when you arrived it was empty.

    One of the massive windows was shattered and you could hear Maul’s cry pierce through the night. You hesitated, knowing your lover didn’t want you in this fight. To his credit, the Jedi did not hesitate along side you. He leapt through the opening and you watched through wide eyes as he landed between a cloaked figure and Savage, blocking a blow that would have undoubtedly killed the golden Zabrak. As Kenobi engaged with the mysterious figure you searched the courtyard for your lover, the same place the two of you were sparring in this morning. You found him laying crumpled, aftershocks from being electrocuted still caused tremors. You leapt down beside him, worry causing your mental wards to slip. You reached for your beloved Master while Savage and Kenobi battled Sidious. Maul’s eyes widened when they focused on your concerned face.

“You can’t be here. I told you to leave, you have to leave now. You have to be gone already,” he pulled himself to his feet with a groan and pushed you behind him in the same way he had shielded you from Savage in the past, “Go. Now.”

    The cloaked figure force pushed his two attackers into the stone wall, knocking them unconscious from the impact. A light trail of blood followed their wake as they slowly slid to the ground in slouched positionings. The hooded old man turned his attention to Maul, no, to you.

“So this is what you have truly been hiding from me my former apprentice. Not this planet, not the little clubs you have taken over in the underworld; this creature.

“You will not harm her,” Maul ignited his saber once again and kept his body covering you. You crouched behind him, both weapons held in a reverse grip one behind you, at the ready to slash forward and the other shielding your Master’s abdomen. Not unlike the wolf that protects her mate’s throat during a stand-off.

Sidious cackled coldly, “I have no intention to do so,” he pointed his eyes back to you while you narrowed yours at him, “you have great power girl and it is being wasted by your current tutor. He is not a Sith. He is a poor excuse of an assassin who should’ve died long ago. Despite his survival he failed. Do you really think you can learn anything from a man who had to have a witch put him back together piece by fleshy piece?”

    You did not answer. You allowed him to continue his monolog, stalling for time so you could meld with your Master, minds dancing with one another in a sort of battle meditation. If you were to succeed you had to work as one, both extensions of one another. You weren’t ignorant or arrogant enough to deny the utter weight of the power before you. This wasn’t a battle for you to win, this was a battle for you to survive.

    Sidious realized what the two of you were doing and lunged, saber going straight to Maul’s chest. You flicked the wrist of the arm that guarded him and parried his strike allowing Maul to take a step forward to block his Master’s second blade. You spun around him with the weapon you had ready behind your back but were blocked before you could make contact with his throat. Thus began another dance. If you had allowed your mind to wander you would’ve wondered if the sight could have been considered beautiful. A total of five crimson lightsabers swung and clashed in violent sparks leading trails of light in their wake. Ground was given as equally as it was gained, despite the perfect mind meld you were performing with your master and the decades of training between the two of you it seemed like all you could accomplish was to keep up with Sidious.

    Just as the Jedi and the other Night Brother were starting to stir Maul’s concentration was interrupted by concern for his brother the effect was immediate and brutal. You weren’t in position to be able to block Sidious’ swing that took Maul’s good leg at the knee nor the lightning that sprang from his finger-tips. You howled in rage, watching your Master crumple to a smoking pile, barely clinging to life. He wouldn’t survive another hit like that. Sidious turned to sneer at you as if he could read your thoughts. You sheathed your blades and flipped over the top of him just as lightning left his fingers again. You dropped your hilts and stretched both arms in front of you absorbing the energy directed to kill the man you loved. A new kind of rage boiled in your soul, clenching your teeth and flexing your legs to keep you grounded you did not halt or block his blast but rather, absorbed it. Allowing it to fuel you. Your hair billowed around you like you stood in the center of a hurricane; your eyes blown with the power that coursed through your veins. You barley noticed how Savage ran to his brother’s aid while Obi Wan sat frozen equally in awe and in horror.

“That’s it my newest young apprentice, let the hate, the fear and the rage fill you up. Harness it, use it.”

“I will never be yours old man,” you growled with the effort to stay awake, “you will never win this.”

“Why my dear, I’ve already won.”

    Your power had depleted as soon as he spoke, allowing the shocks to reach you with no defense. You could accomplish a great many things with the force but your well wasn’t nearly as deep as Sidious’. Your vision darkened in the corners and slowly seeped until all you could see was the black and feel yourself falling into bony arms. It was seeing you fall that finally snapped Kenobi out of his trance and Maul awoke just in time to see his master absconding with his apprentice, his love, the woman he was to ask to marry him. His defeated cry rang through the air as did his anguish through the force. He tried to give chase behind the Jedi but you and your captor was long gone.

    This was not a battle to win, this was the battle you had to survive and thanks to your sacrifice, for now you, your master, his brother and the Jedi did just that. Survived an encounter with power and death themselves.

Tag list, please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@the-grey-jedi​

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[french-obeyme-twistedwonderland]

Eng Malleus Draconia X Readerfem! lemon

Enjoy your reading.

Lemon/nsfw

___

- M-Mistress," moaned Malleus for the umpteenth time.

- No, Malleus, I tease. You must not come.

- I am... at my limit... !

- In that case.

I move my hand away from my husband's crotch, who is once again grumbling in frustration. This will be the third time I've stopped in such a good way. Today it's a punishment. Why do you ask, it turns out that Malleus frustrated me by stopping several times when I was about to cum. He stopped when called, even on my birthday, even on our wedding anniversary. All because a maid begs him at the door. I am jealous of the attention he gets. And he feels it very well but won't apologise. I know she's probably eavesdropping, I plan to make Malleus scream for me.

- T.P, begs Malleus. Allow me to cum, I beg you... !

- Why am I going to listen to you, I ask, pressing my foot against his manhood. You didn't do it for me. And curtsy to me, I am your mistress, the one who dominates the dragon who has his arms and legs tied.

- 'My apologies,' Malleus stammers, moaning with guilty pleasure. Don't be angry, you are my queen, the one I love, the one I desire more than anything, just allow me to show you all the pleasure you give me.

- So stop going to another woman. Or I will think you no longer desire me and prefer another.

- Mistress would be jealous?

- Yes, I am jealous. Jealous of the attention you give to another. Jealous that you spend so much more time with one woman. Jealous and worried that you'll leave.

With each sentence I press a little harder, which makes him groan. When his face gets a bit serious, he swallows when he sees my sad face. Lately, I've been losing confidence in myself. Being a human in a kingdom full of fae is not easy. Some doubt my legitimacy to the throne, others my love for Malleus. They try to trap me and, although I know how to impose myself, they take my arguments apart. The nobles laugh at me, and rumours are spread about my origins to make me look horrible. So the fact that I feel as if the man I married is leaving with someone else seems terrifying.

- My treasure," Malleus murmured. I'm sorry I gave you that impression. I promise you, I will try to be more present and supportive, as you are.

- You swear you'll stop paying so much attention to this woman," I ask.

- I swear that I will put a distance between her and myself. My only queen and wife is T.P Draconia. Forgive me, mistress, and allow the deplorable person that I am to be forgiven by his dear wife.

- Um... Well, I guess I didn't-

Before I had finished my sentence, Malleus had freed himself from his bonds. I don't know how, but now he's on top of me kissing me wildly. His tongue seeps into me, playing with mine. His fangs nibble my lips, one of his hands holds my head and mouth open, while the other spreads one of my legs. When his frustration has subsided, Malleus runs his tongue over my neck. My dragon communicates a lot through little noises coming from deep in his throat.

At least, when he knows how to restrain himself.

With one stroke of his pelvis, his entire length spreads my walls and releases my voice with pleasure. When he starts to move, his deep vocal cords emit barely audible sounds. However, with experience, I have been able to spot them. Sometimes identifying their meaning. To cover my own, I kiss Malleus but he gently pulls my hair, tilting my head to hear my voice. Although embarrassed, I let him do what he wants with me. Usually I try to dominate him, but now I want to let him do it to me.

Realizing my condition, Malleus turns me around and puts me on all fours. Surprised by this gesture, I feel his hands grip my pelvis firmly. He pulls back, moving my pelvis forward. Just as I'm about to complain that I can't feel him anymore, my partner violently pulls my pelvis back and moves forward at the same time with a clattering sound. Gritting my teeth, my eyes widen in surprise and a small moan escapes my lips. Pressing me around him, Malleus lets out a sigh of relief before repeating the gesture several times.

- M-Malleus," I moan. This is too much... !

- Come for me," he coos. Show me the face of a queen who gets off with her king.

- I-!

Before I finish my sentence, a huge fire burns through my body as I release my voice. At Malleus's grumbling, I imagine it's the same for him. We catch our breath and I go to the bathroom afterwards. I have learned my lesson well, after sex, the toilet.

After a month, I can already see a great evolution on Malleus' side. For example, the girl who used to stick to him finally understood that there was no limit to what she could do. It is what she did, with my greater relief. Lilia made fun of me a little but congratulated me for having known to manage the problem. On their sides, Sebek and Silver continue to train the new recruits. After having had a medical check-up, I head for Malleus' office. This examination had always been postponed, either because there was no time or simply because I didn't want to be inspected like a lab rat. Especially because if there were any problems, the doctors and the court would throw stones at me.

Especially when it comes to offspring.

Again, I have confidence in myself. Especially after the results. Knocking gently on the solid wood door, I enter after having obtained the owner's permission. At his black wooden desk, Malleus was sitting on a comfortable black and green chair. Although it is not the throne, it still imposes by exceeding Malleus' seated height.

- My treasure," asked Malleus, raising his head. What's the matter?

- I had my medical examination today," I reply.

- Bring me some good news, please.

- Of course, my love, of course.

[dwellordream]

“…It is at this point that we find the first reference in the sources to Livia’s father, Marcus. He was evidently an energetic opportunist, for he hitched his wagon to the triumvirate and was sent—or at least had reasonable expectations of being sent—on a mission to Alexandria in 59 bc to raise funds. Marcus had perhaps just shortly before married Alfidia, and on January 30 of either 59 or 58 he became a father, with the birth of his daughter, Livia.

The month and day of Livia’s birth are established by inscriptions of the post-Julian period as a.d.III Kal. Febr., the third day before the first of February, reckoned inclusively. This date is by convention given as January 30 in the modern calendar system, although there is in reality no truly satisfactory way of expressing it, because in the pre-Julian calendar January had only twenty-nine days. The year is more problematic. The place of birth is even more obscure; we have no direct hint of where it might have been. The absence of any boast in extant inscriptions from a town proudly claiming distinction as her birthplace, and the lack of speculation in the literary sources, suggest that she might have been born in Rome.

Livia’s father is next heard of in 54, when he was prosecuted for improper legal practices (depraevaricatione) but acquitted through the efforts of Cicero— the kind of case, as Tacitus notes, that does not later arouse much interest. In any event, the publicity does not seem to have impeded his career. By 50 he was praetor, or iudex quaestionis (president of a court), presiding over a case being tried under the Scantinian law, which covered prohibited sexual activity.

Although there are grounds for suspecting that he might have been wealthy, through his adoptive father or his wife, he seems to have fallen into some financial difficulties at about this time, and we later find him trying to sell his gardens to Cicero. Marcus was a hard bargainer, but he met his match in the famous orator, who was determined to come out best in the deal. …on the Ides of March, 44 bc, Caesar was assassinated. It was probably not long after this pivotal moment in Roman history that a pivotal event took place in Livia’s life also, her first marriage. Indeed, because nothing at all is known of Livia’s early life apart from her birth, this is the first incident that the historian can infer.

Her husband, Tiberius Claudius Nero, belonged to the less distinguished branch of the patrician Claudians. As we have seen, the last consulship the family could claim was in 202 bc. Very little has been passed down about Tiberius Nero’s immediate forebears, although we know from a very fragmentary inscription that his father was also a Tiberius. The older Tiberius Nero served in 67 bc as legate of Pompey against the pirates, with command at the Straits of Gibraltar, and in 63 made a speech against the summary execution without trial of the associates of Catiline, who had been exposed by Cicero in a major conspiracy. Their family names leave little doubt that Livia and her husband must have been related.

How closely is far from clear, although some scholars assert with confidence that they were cousins. Tiberius Nero might have seemed a good marriage prospect. Cicero speaks of him having the qualities of an adulescentis nobilis, ingeniosi, abstinentis (a young man of noble family, of native talent, and moderation) and remarks that there was no one among the noble families he regarded more highly. (Of course, these warm testimonials appear in a letter of recommendation, a common repository of inflated praise.) Tiberius Nero makes his own entry into history in 54 bc.

In that year a Pompeian supporter, Aulus Gabinius, returned from Syria after a governorship that seems to have been marked by administrative incompetence and large-scale bribery, a common enough situation in many of the provinces of the late republic. Gabinius became the celebrity of the year, denounced by Cicero and hounded in a series of showy trials. Before his trial for extortion (de repetundis) there was a scramble for the high-profile role of prosecutor, and Tiberius Nero competed against Gaius Memmius and Mark Antony. The contest was keen and Cicero comments on Tiberius Nero’s fine effort and the quality of his supporters. But Cicero anticipated that Memmius would win out, and was proved right. The outcome marked Tiberius Nero down in this first highly public incident as a worthy failure, a characterization that could probably be applied to his whole career.

In late 51 or early 50 he visited Asia, where he had a number of clients, and he called on Cicero during the latter’s governorship of Cilicia. At this time the tortuous negotiations for the third marriage of Cicero’s daughter Tullia were under way. Tiberius Nero seems to have made a strong impression on his host, to judge from the warm letter of recommendation that Cicero wrote for him to Gaius Silius, propraetor of Bithynia and Pontus.

The young man declared an interest in Tullia and obtained her father’s consent for the match. Messengers were despatched to Rome to give mother and daughter the happy news. Unfortunately, Tiberius’ hostile daemon intervened—it seems that before he left, Cicero had told Tullia and her mother to arrange the negotiations in Rome themselves, and because he was going to be away for so long in his province, not to feel obliged to refer the issue to him. The messengers arrived in Rome just in time to miss Tullia’s engagement party.

Tiberius Nero would probably have been a better choice than his successful rival, the seedy Dolabella, a ruthless adherent of Caesar’s and a man whose career was enlivened by dissipation and debts. Cicero had approved of Tiberius Nero as a potential prosecutor in the Gabinius case because of his stand against the power block represented by Caesar and Pompey (and Crassus). By 48 bc he was doubtless dismayed when his young champion displayed the often crass opportunism typical of the period. Putting his support behind Julius Caesar, Tiberius Nero signed up as his quaestor and commanded the fleet at Alexandria. As a reward for his services he received a senior priesthood and in 46 was given responsibility for founding colonies at Caesar’s behest in Narbonese Gaul, including Narbo and Arelate.

He might have seemed to the outside world to be on an upward trajectory, but cruel fate intervened. The Ides of March in 44 and the assassination of Caesar changed the destiny of many besides Caesar himself. Tiberius Nero had to make a career choice, and characteristically made the wrong one. Perhaps under the influence of Livia’s father, he followed the course of many Caesarian supporters and jumped sides, hitching his wagon to the assassins’ team, even proposing special honours for the killers.

We do not know for certain when Tiberius Nero and Livia were married. The normal age of marriage for women at this period seems generally to have been in the late teens, but in upper-class families marriage at fifteen was probably the norm, and even earlier marriages were common in aristocratic circles, when there was a political advantage to the match. By this reckoning Livia, depending on her date of birth, might have reached a marriageable age in 46 or 45. But this earlier date may not have been possible if Tiberius Nero was serving in Gaul at that time. The birth of their first son in November 42 gives us a limit, and places the marriage probably in 43, when Livia was fifteen or sixteen. Her husband would likely have been in his late thirties. The marriage took place during the dramatic aftermath of Caesar’s assassination.

Two men competed to fill the vacuum left by his death. One was Caesar’s lieutenant Mark Antony. The other was his great-nephew, Octavian, named his heir and adopted son in his will, the man destined to transform the character of the Roman state and to become Livia’s second husband. He was born Gaius Octavius, on September 23, 63 bc, in Rome. Although malicious gossip claimed that his great-grandfather was a freedman and rope maker, the family, though not distinguished, was well-to-do. The Octavii originated from the Volscian town of Velitrae, two days’ journey south of Rome. His father, also Gaius Octavius, was a prosperous banker, a member of the entrepreneurial middle class that largely constituted what is known as the equestrian order.

…Octavius had been in Apollonia for a few months only when a messenger arrived from his mother with the dramatic news that Caesar had been murdered. He decided to return to Italy at once with a few friends, including Marcus Agrippa. In Brundisium he learned from letters sent by his mother and stepfather that he had inherited most of Caesar’s estate and, more significantly, had been adopted as his son. His family advised him to decline the adoption, perceptively anticipating the political firestorm that it would create. He did not follow their advice and proceeded to Rome. He now began to style himself Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, following the Roman custom of assuming the name of the adoptive parent with a form of the original gens appended.

The adoption fuelled Octavian’s ambitions, and its importance to him is demonstrated by his desperate efforts to have it confirmed. The adoption of relatives or even of nonrelatives was a well-established tradition in Rome, and adopted sons and daughters naturally styled themselves henceforth as children of the adoptive, not the natural father. But testamentary adoption, which later played a significant part in Livia’s own career, seems to have been in a dubious category of its own. The ancient evidence is not explicit, and the ancient jurists are silent on the matter, but it seems that adoption stipulated in a will was almost certainly not an adoption in the full sense of the word, but mainly a device to allow for the inheritance of property on condition that the adopted child assume the name of the legator.

This ambiguity explains why Octavian was determined at all costs to have the status of the adoption legally ratified. He attempted to do this soon after his arrival in Rome and took on as an ally in his campaign Antony, who pretended to be making every effort to have the appropriate law passed but was in fact doing everything he could to block it. When Octavian became consul, in May 43, one of his first measures was to have the proposed law presented to the popular assembly. The symbolic importance of the adoption cannot be stressed enough. In practice he ignored the final element of his name, Octavianus, and preferred to use only Gaius Julius Caesar. Although clearly an unfriendly source, Antony was not far off the mark when he said of him et te, o puer, qui omnia nomini debes (and you, lad, who owe everything to a name).

And more was to come. There is evidence that Caesar might have received divine honours even before his death. At all events, in 42 posthumous divine honours were granted him. Henceforth, Octavian could style himself not only as the son of Julius Caesar but as the son of Divus (the deified) Julius. The following years did in a sense vindicate his parents’ reservations, for conflict arose between Octavian and Antony in their zeal to assume Caesar’s mantle, a struggle that was punctuated by a series of pacts but was not resolved finally until the suicide of Antony in 30 bc following the decisive battle of Actium.

The struggle between powerful and ambitious Roman political and military leaders in the last century of the republic inevitably embroiled the rest of the population, especially Romans of prominence, who, as is usually the case in a civil war, found it impossible to stand on the sidelines of the conflict. It also brought tragedy into Livia’s life. Nothing explicit is known about her father Marcus’ stand during the clashes between Caesar and Pompey or during the ascendancy of Caesar. Shackleton-Bailey has tentatively suggested that Marcus was a Caesarian, but whatever loyalty he might have felt certainly did not survive the dictator’s death, when he emerges as a champion of the tyrannicides. In 43 we find him one of the sponsors of a senatorial decree to give command of two legions to the assassin Decimus Brutus.

By the end of that year he had been proscribed by the triumvirs. He fled east to join Brutus and Cassius and shared with them their final defeat at Philippi. He personally survived, but afterwards reputedly died a courageous death. Refusing to ask for mercy, he committed suicide in his tent. We do not know what happened to Marcus Livius’ property. Livia may have been his only natural child, but there are strong grounds for believing that in the absence of a natural son, Marcus before his death arranged in his will for the adoption of Marcus Livius Drusus Libo (consul in 15 bc). Libo’s natural father, Lucius Scribonius Libo, later demonstrated powerful political connections.

…In the meantime, the conduct of Livia’s husband, Tiberius Nero, highlighted the two dominant traits in his makeup: an inordinate opportunism and a penchant for guaranteeing that whatever opportunity he seized, it would be an injudicious choice. He did not follow Marcus in sticking to his principles to the bitter end. Once he recognised that the plight of the assassins was hopeless, he broke away from his father-in-law’s position. The struggle for supremacy now clearly lay between Octavian and Marc Antony, and Tiberius Nero opted to back Antony. He was elected to the praetorship in 42, but following a dispute that arose among the triumvirs, he refused at the end of his term to leave office and stayed in place beyond his legally defined period.

Early in the same year, Livia became pregnant. It is said that she was very keen to bear a boy and used a method of determining the sex common among young women of the time: she took an egg from under a brooding hen and kept it warm against her breast. Whenever she had to yield it up, she passed it to her nurse under the folds of their dresses so as not to interrupt the warmth. A cock with a fine crest was hatched, a portent of a vigorous son. Later in the year we have the first specific recorded evidence of her whereabouts. On November 16, 42, the first of her two sons, Tiberius, was born on the Palatine in Rome.

…After the successful campaign against Caesar’s assassins at Philippi, the triumvirs had agreed on areas of command. Marcus Lepidus was restricted to Africa. Antony took the East, where he launched a campaign against the Parthians. Octavian commanded in the West. His task was to restore order in Italy and keep a check on Sextus Pompeius, the younger son of Pompey, who had set himself up with a large fleet in Sicily and had established a haven for fugitives from the triumvirs. Octavian also undertook the grim task of confiscating territory in Italy for the retiring veterans. Antony’s brother Lucius Antonius, and Antony’s wife, Fulvia, became the champions of the dispossessed Italians and sought to instigate an uprising against Octavian; Tiberius Nero joined the effort, and Livia and her son followed him to Perusia, the main centre of opposition.

When Perusia fell in early 40, Tiberius Nero escaped with his family first to Praeneste and then to Naples, where he sought to instigate a slave uprising, helped by Gaius Velleius, the grandfather of the historian. That effort collapsed and the family had a hair-raising escape. As Octavian’s forces broke into the city, the family decided to make a break for it. Velleius, by now old and infirm, was too weary and ran himself through with his own sword. Tiberius Nero and his family set out to make their way stealthily to a ship, avoiding the regular routes and going off into the wilds of the countryside.

On the journey little Tiberius started to cry. There was panic that he might give them away. Livia snatched him from the nurse, and when he still did not settle down, one of her followers seized him from her and apparently saved the day. The ancient authors were quick to spot the irony of Livia fleeing the man she would eventually marry, with a son who would eventually succeed him.

The family did in the end make their escape and went to Sicily. They perhaps hoped that family connections, through Marcus Libo, the brother-in-law of Sextus Pompeius, would stand them in good stead. But if this connection did exist, it did the couple little good, and their reception in Sicily must have been a considerable disappointment. Sextus Pompeius found Tiberius Nero something of an embarrassment and was reluctant even to grant him an audience. Also, perhaps to avoid unnecessary provocation, he ordered Tiberius Nero not to display the fasces, the rods of the office of praetorship, which he had illegally retained in his possession.

Sextus’ sister, perhaps motivated by personal rather than political concerns, was more welcoming, and even gave the little Tiberius a cloak with a clasp and some gold studs. These survived as celebrity items and were exhibited for tourists in the resort town of Baiae until Suetonius’ day. But Tiberius Nero now fell foul of the complex and shifting tide of Roman politics. Octavian, faced with the prospect of a confrontation with Antony, sought to move closer to Sextus Pompeius. Tiberius Nero was obliged to pack his bags once again and go with his wife and infant son to join Antony in the East, where the Claudii Nerones seem to have acquired a large number of clients.

It might have been at this time that Tiberius Nero was proscribed. We certainly know that it happened at some point—Tacitus states so unequivocally, although without providing a date. We cannot be sure why Livia followed her husband into exile, unless for the uncomplicated reason of personal affection. It was certainly expected that wives would either accompany proscribed husbands or stay at home and work on their behalf. But they could not be compelled. By now it must have been apparent to Livia that her husband was not destined for greatness, and it perhaps says something for her strength of character that as a young mother of eighteen or so she seems to have put duty before personal convenience.

The couple were able to get safe passage by joining a distant kin of Livia’s, Lucius Scribonius Libo, who left Sicily to accompany Antony’s mother, Julia, to Athens and allowed Tiberius Nero and his family to sail with him. Antony was perhaps no more eager than Sextus to be lumbered with someone so tainted by failure, and he quickly despatched Tiberius Nero to Sparta, where the Claudii had long enjoyed patronage. Sparta, perhaps because of its ties to the Claudians, offered the couple an extremely cordial welcome, in contrast to their earlier experiences.

Livia was later able to acknowledge their support by rewarding the community for the loyalty it had shown her in times of trouble. But Tiberius Nero was unable to break the habit of a lifetime. Once again they had to flee—the reasons are not known. This time it was by night, through a forest where a fire broke out. The family barely escaped. The event would have been especially memorable to Livia, who ended up with burning hair and a charred dress. In ad 40 Antony and Octavian settled their differences at the Peace of Brundisium, and the compact was sealed by the marriage of Antony and Octavian’s sister, Octavia.

A further, even shorter-lived compact, the Treaty of Misenum, was reached by the triumvirs and Sextus Pompeius in mid-39 bc. It promised an amnesty to those who had sided with Sextus. Livia and her husband were thus able to return to Rome at the same time as Mark Antony. Livia’s mood is not recorded, but it must have been sombre enough. Her father was dead, and she must by now have recognised that her husband’s star had started to set even before it had properly risen.”

- Anthony A. Barrett, “Family Background.” in Livia: First Lady of Imperial Rome

[weavingthetapestry]

19th March 1286: “A Strong Wind Will Be Heard in Scotland”

(Image source: Wikimedia Commons)

On 19th March 1286, a body was discovered on a Fife beach, not far from the royal burgh of Kinghorn. The corpse was that of a 44-year-old man, and the cause of death was later diversely reported as either a broken neck or some other severe injury consistent with a fall from a horse at some point during the previous night. It is not known exactly when this body was found, nor do we know who discovered it. But we do know that the dead man was soon identified, with much dismay, as the King of Scots himself, Alexander III.

The late king had no surviving children, only a young widow who was not yet known to be pregnant, and an infant granddaughter in the kingdom of Norway. Despite this, Alexander III’s untimely death did not cause any immediate civil strife, although it did set in motion a chain of events which eventually led to the Scottish Wars of Independence. This conflict would forever alter the relationship between the kingdoms of Scotland and England, as well as the wider course of European history.

Although Alexander III was a moderately successful monarch, he had been unfortunate over the last ten years. His first wife, Margaret of England, had died in 1275 and Alexander initially showed no immediate interest in remarriage. At first the succession seemed secure: Margaret had left behind two sons and a daughter. However the death of the couple’s younger son David c.1281, may have prompted the king’s decision to arrange the marriages of his two surviving children over the next few years. In the summer of 1281, the twenty-year-old Princess Margaret set sail for Bergen, where she was to marry King Eirik II of Norway. Her brother Alexander, the eighteen-year-old heir to the throne, married the Count of Flanders’ daughter in November 1282. Neither marriage lasted long. The queen of Norway died in spring 1283, possibly during childbirth, while her younger brother succumbed to illness in January 1284. Within a few years, a series of unforeseen tragedies had destroyed Alexander III’s family and hopes, and the outlook for the kingdom seemed equally bleak...

All was not lost however. The king was in good health and believed he could count on the support of the realm’s leading men. Steps were swiftly taken to ensure their compliance with his plans for the succession. On 5th February 1284, a few weeks after Prince Alexander’s death, an impressive number of Scottish nobles* set their seals to an agreement at Scone. In the event of the king of Scotland’s death without any surviving legitimate children, they obliged themselves and their heirs to accept as monarch the heir at law. This was currently a baby named Margaret, the only surviving child of Alexander III’s daughter the queen of Norway.

(Drawing based on a seal belonging to Yolande of Dreux, Alexander III’s second queen. She later became Countess of Montfort and, by marriage, Duchess of Brittany. Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Although the bishops of Scotland were to censure anyone who broke this oath, the prospect of the crown being inherited by an infant girl on the other side of the North Sea was obviously not ideal. Her grandfather struck an optimistic note in a letter to his brother-in-law Edward I of England, writing that in spite of his recent “intolerable” trials, “the child of his dearest daughter” still lived and hoping that “much good may yet be in store”. But the king would not leave everything up to chance and in October 1285, at the age of 43, he married the French noblewoman Yolande of Dreux. As the year drew to a close, Alexander might have hoped that his misfortunes were behind him. He still had his kingdom and his health, and now, with a new queen, there was every chance that he could father another son.

In fact, the king had less than six months to live. The exact circumstances of Alexander’s death are shrouded in mystery, although most sources agree on the fundamental details. Only the Chronicle of Lanercost gives a detailed account, although much cannot be corroborated, and its author had a habit of providing moral explanations for historical events. He was convinced that the calamities which befell the Scottish royal house in the 1280s were punishment for Alexander III’s personal sins. The chronicler never explicitly names these sins, but he does hint at a conflict between the king and the monks of Durham (allowing Alexander’s death to be attributed to a vengeful St Cuthbert). The chronicler also included salacious stories of Alexander’s private life, claiming:

“he used never to forbear on account of season or storm, nor for perils of flood or rocky cliffs, but would visit, not too creditably, matrons and nuns, virgins and widows, by day or by night as the fancy seized him, sometimes in disguise, often accompanied by a single follower.”

Although this does seem to back up the king’s habit of making reckless journeys, alone and in bad weather, the chronicle’s biases are nonetheless fairly obvious. On the other hand, the man who probably compiled the chronicle up to the year 1297 does appear to have had many contacts in Scotland. These included the confessors of the late Queen Margaret and her son Prince Alexander, as well as the latter’s tutor, the clergy of Haddington and Berwick, and the earl of Dunbar. It is unclear how he acquired information about Alexander III’s death, but the chronicle’s narrative is at least plausible and correct in its essentials. Although some of the anecdotes are a little too detailed and didactic to be entirely truthful, the narrative provides some interesting insights into contemporary behaviour, such as the way medieval Scots felt entitled to address their kings. In the absence of alternative narratives, and without necessarily subscribing to the chronicler’s moral views, it is therefore perhaps worth following Lanercost to begin with, supplementing this with additional information where possible.

(The northern half of a map of Britain, drawn by the thirteenth century English chronicler Matthew Paris. Matthew Paris was based in the south of England and was not overly familiar with Scottish geography, but his depiction of Scotland as split over two islands and joined only at the bridge of Stirling, is nonetheless enlightening. The map is now in the public domain and has been made available by the British Libary (x))

On the evening of 18th March 1286, Alexander III is reported to have been in good spirits. This was in spite of the weather, which the author of the Chronicle of Lanercost described as being so foul, “that to me and most men, it seemed disagreeable to expose one’s face to the north wind, rain and snow”. The king of Scots was then dining at Edinburgh, attended by many of his nobles, who were preparing a response to the king of England’s ambassadors regarding the aged prisoner Thomas of Galloway. However when the court had finished dinner King Alexander was not at all anxious to retire early. Instead, not in the least deterred by the wind and rain lashing the windows, he announced his intention of spending the night with his new wife. Since Queen Yolande was then staying at Kinghorn in Fife, travelling there from Edinburgh would not only involve riding over twenty miles in the dark, but would also mean crossing the choppy waters of the Firth of Forth. Unsurprisingly, the king’s councillors tried to dissuade him. However Alexander was determined, and eventually he set off with only a few attendants, leaving his courtiers wringing their hands behind him.

The first part of the journey passed without incident and soon the king and his companions arrived at the Queen’s Ferry, by the shores of the Forth. This popular crossing point was named after Alexander’s famous ancestress St Margaret, who had established accommodation and transport for pilgrims there two hundred years earlier. But when the king himself sought passage, the ferryman pointed out that it would be very dangerous to attempt the crossing in such conditions. Alexander, undeterred, asked him if he was scared, to which the ferryman is said to have stoutly replied, “By no means, it would be a great honour to share the fate of your father’s son.” So the king and his attendants boarded the ferry and, notwithstanding the storm, the boat soon reached the shores of Fife in safety. As the king and his squires rode away from the ferry port, intending to complete the last eleven or so miles of their journey that night, they passed through the royal burgh of Inverkeithing. There, despite the evening gloom, the king’s voice was recognised by the manager of his saltpans, who was also one of the baillies of the town.** The burgess called out to the king and reprimanded him for his habit of riding abroad at night, inviting Alexander to stay with him until morning. But, laughing, Alexander dismissed his concerns and, asking only for some local serfs to act as guides, he rode off into the night.

(South Queensferry, as drawn by the eighteenth century artist John Clerk and made available for public use by the National Galleries of Scotland. Obviously the Queen’s Ferry changed a lot between the 1280s and the 1700s, but at least during this period the ferry was still the main mode of transportation across the Forth.)

By now darkness had set in and, despite the local knowledge of their guides, it was not long before every member of the king’s party became completely lost. Although they had become separated, the king’s squires eventually found the road again. However at some point they must have realised that they had a new problem: the king was nowhere to be found.

In the early fifteenth century, local tradition held that Alexander was at least heading in the right direction when he became separated from his companions. Although he too had lost sight of the main road, the king followed the shoreline, his horse carrying him swiftly over the sands towards Kinghorn. It was there, only a couple of miles from his destination, that the king’s luck finally ran out. Since there were no known witnesses to Alexander III’s death, it is unlikely that we will ever know for certain what happened that night. However most sources agree that the king’s horse probably stumbled and threw its rider. Alexander tumbled to the ground and snapped his neck and, at a stroke, the dynasty which had ruled Scotland for over two hundred years came to an end.

It is not known precisely how long the king’s body lay on the beach, alone under the moon while the waves crashed on the shore and confusion reigned among his squires and guides. However his corpse was discovered the next day and was swiftly conveyed to nearby Dunfermline. Ten days later, on 29th March 1286, the kingdom’s ruling elite gathered to see the last King Alexander buried near the high altar of the abbey kirk, in the company of his ancestors. Near the spot where the king’s body was allegedly found, a stone cross was later erected beside the road, which could still be seen by travellers over a hundred years later. The modern belief that Alexander III died when either he or his horse fell from a cliff*** (a tradition which is not supported by any mediaeval sources so far as I am aware) may stem from the position of this old cross, which possibly occupied the same spot as that of the Victorian Alexander III monument. This monument can now be seen at the side of the modern A921 road between Burntisland and Kinghorn, a permanent reminder of the role this seemingly nondescript location once played in the history of Scotland.

(The Alexander III monument near Kinghorn. Source: Wikimedia Commons- the photo was taken by Kim Traynor who has kindly made the image available for reuse under the  Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license).

The impact of Alexander’s death on a small mediaeval kingdom like Scotland, conditioned to look to its monarch for leadership, must have been great. Even the Lanercost chronicler admitted that the general populace was observed “bewailing his sudden death as deeply as the desolation of the realm.” However it is important not to exaggerate the scale of the crisis. Popular views of Alexander III’s death are inescapably informed by the accounts of fourteenth and fifteenth century writers, who depicted it as the root of all of Scotland’s later ills.

Writing in the aftermath of a century dominated by war, plague, famine, and climate change, it is perhaps unsurprising that many late mediaeval chroniclers looked back on Alexander III’s reign as comparatively peaceful. As the author of the fourteenth century “Gesta Annalia II” explained, “How worthy of tears and how hurtful his death was to the kingdom of Scotland is plainly shown forth by the evils of after times.” Meanwhile, in his “Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland” completed c.1420, Andrew Wyntoun portrayed Alexander’s reign as a Golden Age of peace and justice (when, just as importantly, oats only cost fourpence a boll). He incorporated an old song into his chronicle, perhaps written in the years following the king’s accident, which neatly encapsulates later views of the event and its impact:

“Quhen Alysandyr oure Kyng wes dede 

That Scotland led in luẅe and lé, 

Away wes sons off ale and brede, 

Off wyne and wax, off gamyn and glé: 

Oure gold wes changyd in to lede. 

Cryste borne in to Vyrgynyté, 

Succoure Scotland and remede, 

That stad [is in] perplexyté.”

Wyntoun’s younger contemporary Walter Bower, author of the “Scotichronicon”, also lamented Alexander’s premature death and even rolled out a legend about Scotland’s famous seer, Thomas the Rhymer, to reinforce his point. On 18th March 1286, he claimed, the earl of Dunbar “half-jesting” asked the Rhymer for the next day’s weather forecast. True Thomas answered gloomily:

“Alas for tomorrow, a day of calamity and misery! Because before the stroke of twelve a strong wind will be heard in Scotland, the like of which has not been known since long ago. Indeed its blast will dumbfound the nations and render senseless those who hear it, it will humble what is lofty and raze what is unbending to the ground.”

The next morning came and went without any gales, so the earl decided that Thomas had gone mad- until a messenger arrived at precisely midday with news of the king’s death. Although Bower may have been attempting to bolster Thomas of Erceldoune’s reputation as a prophet (in response to English propagandic use of Merlin’s prophecies), the anecdote reveals the significance he attached to Alexander III’s death. Similarly for John Barbour, author of the fourteenth century romance “The Bruce”, there was no doubt that the story of his hero’s story began, “Quhen Alexander the king was deid / That Scotland haid to steyr and leid.” Following this, Barbour skips ahead to the selection of John Balliol as king, dismissing the six years in between as a time when the country lay “desolate”. In this way later chroniclers created the impression of an Alexandrian ‘Golden Age’ and that Scotland almost immediately descended into chaos after his death. Though understandable, these late mediaeval interpretations have traditionally hampered analysis of Alexander’s reign and the events of the decade following his death, despite the best efforts of modern historians.

(The coronation of the young Alexander III at Scone, as depicted in a manuscript version of the fifteenth century “Scotichronicon”, compiled by the Abbot of Incholm, Walter Bower.  Source: Wikimedia Commons)

In reality, while the king’s death was undoubtedly a deep blow, the Scottish political community rallied in the immediate aftermath. In April 1286, parliament assembled at Scone and promised to keep the peace on behalf of the rightful heir to the kingdom. Six ‘Guardians’ were to govern in the meantime- two bishops (William Fraser of St Andrews and Robert Wishart of Glasgow), two earls (Alexander Comyn, earl of Buchan and Duncan, earl of Fife), and two barons (John Comyn of Badenoch and James the Steward). Despite the oaths sworn to Margaret of Norway two years earlier, there may have been some doubt as to who the “rightful heir” actually was. Certain sources claim that Alexander III’s widow Yolande of Dreux was pregnant and the political community waited anxiously for several months before the queen gave birth in November 1286. However no male heir materialised**** and by the end of the year it seems to have been generally acknowledged that the three-year-old Maid of Norway was the rightful “Lady of Scotland”. She was destined never to set foot in Scotland, but, despite her age, gender, and absence from the realm, the country did not descend into complete anarchy in the four years when she was the accepted heir to the throne. Undoubtedly there were people who had reservations about her reign: the Bruces, for example, seem to have attempted a short-lived rebellion, though the situation was soon defused by the Guardians. By 1289 the cracks were perhaps beginning to show, with the death of the earl of Buchan and the murder of the earl of Fife removing two Guardians, who were not replaced. Nonetheless, the authority of the Guardians was recognised in the absence of an adult ruler and they generally attempted to govern competently in the four years between Alexander III’s accident and the Maid of Norway’s own death in 1290.

Having received news of this second tragedy, the Guardians again acted cautiously, deciding that rival claims for the kingship should be judged in an official court chaired by a respected and powerful arbitrator. Thus they appealed to Scotland’s formidable neighbour, Edward I of England. Despite later allegations of foul play, the English king’s eventual judgement in favour of John Balliol does appear to have been consistent with the law of primogeniture and due process. It would take years of steady deterioration before war finally broke out in 1296. By then Alexander III had been dead for a decade, and though the crisis may have indirectly grown out of his demise, it was not necessarily the immediate cause of Scotland’s late mediaeval woes. Nonetheless the events of that dark night in March 1286 would leave their mark on the popular imagination for centuries, shaping Scottish history down to the present day.

(An imprint of the Great Seal used by the Guardians of Scotland following Alexander III’s death. Reproduced in the “History of Scottish seals from the eleventh to the seventeenth century”, by Walter de Gray Birch, now out of copyright and available on internet archive)

Additional Notes:

*The assembled magnates included the earls of Buchan, Dunbar, Strathearn, Atholl, Lennox, Carrick, Mar, Angus, Menteith, Ross, Sutherland, and two other earls whose titles are illegible but who may have been Caithness and Fife.  The barons included Robert de Brus the elder (father of the earl of Carrick and grandfather of the future Robert I), James Stewart, John Balliol (the future king), John Comyn of Badenoch, William de Soules, Enguerrand de Coucy (Alexander III’s maternal cousin), William Murray, Reginald le Cheyne, William de St Clair, Richard Siward, William of Brechin, Nicholas de Hay, Henry de Graham, Ingelram de Balliol, Alan the son of the earl, Reginald Cheyne the younger, (John?) de Lindsay, Simon Fraser, Alexander MacDougall of Argyll, Angus MacDonald, and Alan MacRuairi, among others. 

** The historian G.W.S. Barrow identified this figure as Alexander the saucier the master of the royal sauce kitchen and one of the baillies of Inverkeithing. 

*** There are some variations on this local tradition too- in 1794, the minister who wrote the entry for Kinghorn parish in the Old Statistical Account claimed that the ‘King’s Wood-end’ near the site of the current Alexander III monument was where the king liked to hunt and that he fell from his horse while on a hunting trip. 

****The Guardians and other nobles may have assembled at Clackmannan for the birth. Several modern historians have accepted Walter Bower’s statement that the queen’s baby was stillborn, despite the Chronicle of Lanercost’s somewhat fantastic tale of a fake pregnancy, with Yolande being caught conspiring to smuggle an actor’s son into Stirling Castle.

Selected Bibliography: 

- “The Chronicle of Lanercost”, as translated by Sir Herbert Maxwell 

- “Calendar of Documents Relating to Scotland, Preserved Among the Public Records of England”, Volume 2, ed. Joseph Bain 

- Rymer’s “Foedera…”, Volume 1 part 1 

- “Documents Illustrative of the History of Scotland”, vol 1., ed. Joseph Stevenson 

- “Scottish Annals From English Chroniclers”, ed. A.O. Anderson (especially Annals of Worcester; Thomas Wykes; Chronicles in Annales Monastici) 

- “Early Sources of Scottish History”, ed. A.O. Anderson (esp. Chronicle of Holyrood, various continuations of the Chronicle of the Kings of Scotland; John of Evenden; Nicholas Trivet) 

- “The Flowers of History… as Collected by Mathew of Westminster”, ed. C.D. Yonge - Gesta Annalia II (formerly attributed to John of Fordun) in “John of Fordun’s Chronicle of the Scottish Nation”, ed. W. F. Skene 

- John Barbour’s “The Brus”, ed. A.A.M. Duncan 

- “The Orygynale Cronikil of the Scotland”, vol.2., by Andrew Wyntoun, ed. David Laing 

- “A History Book for Scots: Selections from the Scotichronicon”, ed. D.E.R. Watt 

- “The Authorship of the Lanercost Chronicle”, by A.G. Little in the English Historical Review, vol. 31 no. 122, p. 269-279 

- “The Kingship of the Scots”, A.A.M. Duncan 

- “Robert Bruce and the Community of the Realm of Scotland”, G.W.S. Barrow 

- “The Wars of Scotland, 1230-1371”, Michael Brown

I have extensive notes so if anyone needs a reference for a specific detail please let me know.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH2

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 2: Resurrection Overture (II)

Qi Leren buried his face in Ning Zhou's uniform for a long time as his heart that felt as if it had been fried in oil slowly calmed down. He climbed out of the hollow tree stump with difficulty.

Inexplicably, this weather-beaten old tree stump that should have been dead had a fresh bud emerging from it, which had grown half a meter high in just seven days, swaying its new green leaves in the breeze.

Qi Leren touched the leaves of the new buds and suddenly felt that he had been reborn.

Still not fully recovered, he walked slowly in the Garden of the Holy Tomb and slowly fought sensation back into his body. He didn't know what's going on outside presently, so it was more appropriate to wait for his condition to be better before going out.

While pacing, Qi Leren sorted out his own matters.

Thanks to two dangerous missions in succession, his remaining survival time was an astonishing 162 days, 7 hours and 32 minutes. Usually, one-fifth to one-third of his survival time would be used to buy necessities. Even so, he had more than one hundred days at his disposal, so the training trip he had already planned could be put on the agenda. After returning to the Village of Dusk and meeting with Ning Zhou, he would suspend the task first, exercise his skills well, and at least master the basic usage of guns.

As for the main task’s second step, it was necessary to go to Purgatory in the depths of the Underground Ant City. Qi Leren learned about the situation there while he was undercover as "Red". With his current strength, the risk of going there was too great, and he needed to consider it again.

Item cards and equipment had returned to his item bar, and a new skill card had been added:

[Secretly Observing (binding skill card): When using this skill card, the holder will feel a mysterious power which will enhance your five senses and decrease the perception of your existence. With this, when you observe, others will not observe you. But remember, observe propriety and don't do anything. Skill lasts for 10 minutes and cools down for 24 hours.]

Qi Leren took this skill card and frowned slightly.

Why did he get such a skill card for the achievement of "Deceiving the Devil of Fraud"? Judging from his previous S/L skill and Dr. Lu's skill cards, the achievements should be closely related to the rewards, so the achievement of Deceiving the Devil of Fraud should enable him to obtain a skill card with fraudulent attributes, such as "Devil Etiquette", which could make him appear to be a demon. Was it that the reward had been changed because he already had the same skill? That didn't make sense either...

Did it want him to secretly observe the Devil of Fraud? Qi Leren laughed in his heart and got rid of this absurd idea.

After walking for half an hour he did some stretching exercises, and Qi Leren felt that his physical condition had improved a lot. At least normal running and jumping were no problem. He drank some water, ate some easily digestible food, and equipped skill cards in the card slots: S/L Data, Rain-Day Laundry, Primary Fighting Skills, and he took his dagger out, then walked to the entrance of the Garden of the Holy Tomb.

With his body passed through the thin layer of the enchantment, Qi Leren came out of the Garden of the Holy Tomb.

The whole Holy City was as quiet as a grave. Qi Leren looked around warily and found that there was really no one there. After the Holy Nun’s field was broken, the residents here had already left the city.

That's right, the Holy See couldn't invest a lot of manpower here. For safety reasons, the residents here should also be evacuated. Maybe there were demons wandering in the city...

After thinking about it, Qi Leren changed the skill card of "Primary Fighting Skills" and equipped "Devil Etiquette". The last task had left a lot of succubus crystals, which was convenient for him now. Just consuming a demon crystal could make him pretend to be the demon type to which this crystal belonged for 3 hours. Unfortunately, it was only a shell. If you started to act fully, it would easily be seen through because you didn't have the talent abilities of this kind of demon.

Qi Leren, who had turned into a succubus, walked forward quickly and heard something moving in front of him before went far. Two lower demons were hurriedly running down the stairs of the former site of the Vatican and saw this succubus standing in the middle of the road, looking at them with a smile. The two lower demons looked at each other and hesitated on whether to approach.

There was a strict hierarchy between demons and devils. Once the higher devils released their powers, the lower demons had no resistance. Higher devils often didn't regard the lower demons as their own kind, and cannibalism was a part of the ecology of the underworld.

Therefore, the hesitant attitude of these two lower demons was very strange in Qi Leren’s eyes.

He decided to give it a try.

"What’s happening up there?" the succubus asked in a lazy tone.

"Answering this lord, the Witch of Desperation and the Devil of Suspicion are facing each other and it appears that they’re going to fight." Because they can't figure out which side of the succubus in front of them, the two lower demons have to bow their heads and show deference, so as to avoid not giving him face. Subordinates of the old Devil had often experienced tragedy by not showing courtesy to the Devil of Power.

"Oh? The two Lords are so angry," the succubus said with a smile.

Qi Leren's brain turned very fast. He didn't know what kind of creatures the Devil of Suspicion and Witch of Desperation were. The factions between demons were very complicated. He only had a little foundation thanks to the help of the Court. Demons, such as the Witch of Jealousy, who could clearly possess a kind of original power, were definitely higher devils.

The Devil of Suspicion sounded related to the attribute of "fraud", and he was probably the Devil of Fraud’s men. The orientation of the Witch of Desperation was not easy to judge, but since she would appear here, she must have her reasons... If the two sides were facing each other, she should be in opposition to the Devil of Fraud?

Who would it be? One of Power’s men? No, the Devil Kings of Fraud and Power were not antagonistic. The Devil of Slaughter? It was possible, but the Devil of Slaughter had been missing for a long time and no branch of Slaughter Secret Society, no matter which one, could contact it.

There was another possibility.

Qi Leren narrowed his eyes and made a bold guess that this Witch of Desperation was under the hand of the old Devil.

Although the old Devil has been killed by the Holy Nun, his subordinates were still active in the underworld. It made sense to come for the old Devil at this time.

Two lower demons looked at the succubus with trepidation. They didn't know which side he was from and didn't dare to leave.

The succubus suddenly chuckled and waved at them: "Come on, get out of my way."

The lower demons ran away as if freed and Qi Leren put away his demon form, judged his acting skills, and secretly gave himself a compliment. It was fortunate that he’d put on a disguise in time, otherwise he would have had to fight first which might have disturbed the two great devils above. It was really a situation that the S/L solution couldn't save him from.

Qi Leren wasn’t sure how much these higher devils could perceive. Although it will not be exaggerated for them to cover the entire site of the Vatican, they might be alarmed if he got too close.

However, he has this skill card of "Secretly Observing", which was tantamount to a timely rain. Qi Leren was hooked up and felt that his lucky value seemed to have increased after resurrection.

Go up the mountain first, wait until you get close to the two opposing devils, then hide yourself with your skill card and sneak into the church.

Having made up his mind, Qi Leren walked up quickly. When he reached halfway up the mountain, the top of the mountain was full of wind and rain, and the earth shook. Countless bats flew in the heavy rain, almost covering the sky with solid black. Qi Leren nearly fell down the stairs because of the sudden earthquake. When he looked up suddenly, he saw a huge hole emerging in the sky and lava poured down. Bats sent out the piercing shrieks, as if they were ignited by the lava, burning into a fire cloud in the sky.

This terrible war situation made Qi Leren's heart more pressed, and he almost hesitated whether he wanted to venture into the church at this time.

But Maria's words made him very concerned. His intuition was that this was a very important clue. If you miss it, maybe...

Anyway, I've already died once, and it won't be more difficult than when I faced the Devil of Fraud. After a pause, Qi Leren changed [Rain-Day Laundry] to [Secretly Observing]. At the moment of activation he felt as if his body was engulfed in heavy rain, and the fighting sound in the distance were much clearer than before. When he looked far away, he could even see two figures fighting in midair.

The Witch of Desperation dressed in a black cloak drew a circle and the bats ignited by lava instantly broke free from the flames and returned to her side, pressing into a large group. Her voice was hoarse and tired, and it could be faintly heard in the decreasing rainstorm: "I originally thought that you would continue to wander freely in the demon world, looking for your ‘art’, but I didn't expect you to take refuge in the Devil of Fraud."

The Devil of Suspicion smiled and touched the two carefully trimmed moustaches on his lips. He looked much more energetic than the Witch of Desperation, who was a mess. If he didn't know this devil’s identity, he would say he looked like an artist.

"Isn't it our demonic nature to submit to greater power?" the Devil of Suspicion asked.

"Oh? However, in terms of their source of power, the Devil of Fraud is not as good as Power and Slaughter," the Witch of Desperation said.

The Devil of Suspicion smiled politely: "Is the original power of the Devastator strong enough? Isn't he eversleeping in this church? His power is only a fragment, and those who use this power are the real key."

The Witch of Desperation's empty eyes revealed faint sadness. When the old Devil was still alive, she had the blessing of destructive power. She was far stronger than the Devil of Suspicion. However, with the death of the old Devil, the power of "destruction" had become weak, and the original power of "despair" also declined.

This group of the old Devil’s subordinates had already given up, and when a unless new Devil of Destruction was born they could only gradually weaken.

Until a week ago, when they suddenly felt the new destructive power far away from the underworld.

It was like a meteor, and the light of destruction flashing in the underworld showed them hope that Destruction would never be destroyed, and he would eventually come back!

The short-term recovery of the "destructive" power also made Power and Fraud feel threatened, so the Devil of Suspicion was sent to investigate and he happened to meet the Witch of Desperation who had also come.

"So your Lord is willing to be loyal to that Power lunatic? I heard that he’s handed over 'one third of authority' to Power? But without the last thing, Power can never be crowned." When it came to the "one-third of the authority", a hatred emerged in the Witch of Desperation’s heart, as it was the devil crystal of the Lord of Destruction. Even if it was only one-third, it was strong enough. This group of demon subordinates to the Lord of Destruction had only survived by one-third of a demon crystal left by him, and one-third was still missing. Once all fell into the hands of the Devil of Power and she then found 'that thing', it will not be too far away from the day when she became king of the underworld.

The Devil of Suspicion, who was full of confidence in the Devil of Fraud, smiled and said, "It's up to your Lord to decide everything. Now what we want to 'discuss' is whether you disappear from my eyes or I send you to disappear forever."

The Witch of Desperation smiled coldly: "It depends on which side’s reinforcements come faster."

The two people fighting in midair didn't notice. Under the cover of trees and skill cards, a human actually outweighed their perception and sneaked into the church.

-----

Editor’s Notes:

There’s some pretty important exposition here and I know I was confused myself when I first read it, so please do let me know if anything is hard to follow and I will explain it as well as I can without spoilers!

One thing to clarify that I don’t think has come up before is that witches and devils (not capitalized unless in a character’s title) are the same form of being, it’s just a distinction of gender. Power is presumably an exception to this simply so that her title matches the other Devil Kings.

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[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[sparklingchan]

Queen || Park Seonghwa(Ateez)

Pairing : Seonghwa x Reader (fem.)

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: Mentions of war , cuss words , A single kiss.

Genre:Angst , fluff, Goryeo AU , Royal AU.

Description : Serving the nation was Crown Prince Seonghwa’s second most top priority. You were the first. 

A/N: This one is an old drabble too but it’s one of my best ones. I haven’t been able to write much since my college already started but I will write a new imagine/drabble asap. 

Enjoy!

The warrior of Goryeo ,the future king, the pride of his father, the most gorgeous man to ever have been born, Seonghwa was everything an ideal crown prince could be. The tales of his bravery were known by the young and the old and the stories of his loyalty were performed as poems and songs. He was the most perfect man in the entire nation and the people truly believed so with all their hearts.

But little did the people know what actually hides behind his calm demeanor and loving smile.

"What do you mean you are getting me married?" Seonghwa has a stern look on his face, trying to remain calm as his father tells him -commands him - to do the one thing he could never do. His heart crushes in his chest but he tries to maintain a composed form in front of his discipline obsessed father.

"You heard me the first time, Crown Prince . You will be getting married to the Princess of a minor kingdom soon. " he asserts his decision by looking at the prince with angry, burning eyes.

Seonghwa has a heart of gold, they say. A heart so strong and so precious, no one could ever reach that point of greatness in one lifetime. But maybe they were wrong. Maybe his heart was not gold ,but glass ; frail and easily breakable.

That night, after his father practically forces him into an alliance he didn't even desire, Crown Prince Seonghwa walks to the one place in the entire nation that makes him feel safe and at home. And no,that is not his luxurious , comfortable palace complex.

Miss y/n's house is a few minutes away from the main royal complex so it has always been easier for Seonghwa to be able to sneak out without getting caught by guards or his own family members. Out of the million times he's ever been to her small,two roomed house, he's probably only ever been close to getting caught just once.

"Y/n, its me " he knocks softly at her door, trying to hold his tears in as his father's words still remain carved in his mind.

As soon as the door opens, he practically pulls her into his arms, finding comfort in that one person more than anyone else. She puts her head on his chest and nuzzles into the embrace, finding the similar comfort that he does in her.

"What's wrong ?" She asks, not being able to ignore the tear stains on his cheeks and the tremble in his voice.

He strokes her long ,black hair ,trying to gain courage to say anything at all. How could he tell her that all those dreams of living together might never come true, that he will be sharing his bed with another woman now, that he will have to father children of a woman he didn't love.

"Father is getting me married to a princess." he wishes he could have stopped those words before they reached her ears, despite the physical impossibility of that desire, but there's nothing he could do anymore. The damage has already been done .

Y/n's  heart drops in the deepest pits of her stomach , a feeling of anger , bitterness and betrayal washes over her as she process the information just provided to her. But she forces a smile, for Seonghwa 's sake.

"It's alright, your majesty. " she places a kiss on his head, fighting away tears that were so dangerously waiting to fall from her eyes. For Seonghwa , she reminds herself.

He looks up at her with bewilderment clear in his eyes. "Are you saying I should listen to him? "

Y/n bite her lips ,trying to form proper sentences in her head. How does one tell the man they love to let everything go ? Let them go?

She didn't want to do it, of course. If she could , she would have made him run away from that horrendous royal palace and keep him with her in her small hut where they could live a peaceful life but she couldn't.

He's royal blood and she is just a commoner who washes clothes for a living. She's not a match for him, no matter how much both of them pretended it weren't true.

"He's the king. You cannot say no to a royal command. " she whispers. She takes in deep breaths to make sure that his scent is embedded in her mind for centuries to come. The way that his arms feel warm around her and the smooth texture of his voice, she wants to remember everything.

"I will give up everything and come to you, y/n. Just say the word and I'll leave everything. " he says, taking her face in his hands. His fingertips press softly against her cheeks, the pressure sending shivers through her body.

"And then what? You leave and then what? Are you ready to give up all those luxuries and privileges to live a normal life where we have to work really hard to earn some money? " she speaks in a small voice as her shaky hands remove his from her face. "Will you turn your back on the citizens of our country that love you so much ?"

Seonghwa's hands fall to his sides , as if they lost all their sense of movement and purpose. The tears flowing down his cheeks refuse to stop anytime soon .

"Go, Seonghwa . Please. The country needs you. More than me. " she says , finally letting her own tears  flow too.

"I will never be able to love her. Not as much as I love you, not nearly as much you." he sobs, his hands yet again finding their way to her waist, pulling her into his chest.

Putting a hand on his chest , y/n stops his actions, although it only feels like twisting a knife further into her own wounds.

"Go."

As he walks away that night, she watches his back from a small gap through the window, trying to remember as many details about this man as her mind could afford to store. She wants to remember him. She wants to remember the only man who loved her so unconditionally.

The grief finally crashes into her , her whole body being taken over by ugly sobs, with her eyes still on Seonghwa 's back, his black hair shining under the moonlight and his sword swinging with every movement of his body.

For Seonghwa , she reminds herself , For Seonghwa , I will never love again.

"You have to stop bringing things like this for me, your highness. It makes me feel guilty." Y/n says , running her hand over the beautiful, brand new silk blanket sitting on her lap. Mingi smiles, rolling his eyes playfully at her. "Hey, this is not from me. It's from Brother Seonghwa ."

Nodding her head with slight disappointment on her face, she tries hard not to acknowledge the name even though it as if makes her body erupt into flames. It's been months since they last saw each other and although she doesn't say it out loud , her mind is pre occupied with Seonghwa’s thoughts more often than she'd like. But then again, It's not easy forgetting the man you so dearly loved.

"How's he doing?" Those words come out even before she could process it , spilling out of her mouth like water out of a jug.

"He's doing fine .Doesn't talk much ,rarely sleeps. I don't see him that much either." Mingi says

He's as miserable as she is, she realizes and even though it is horrible , she feels a slight giddiness at that thought.

"And the crown princess? "

"Do you really want to know, y/n?" Mingi replies with a slight chuckle.

No, she didn't really want to know about how much time the good-for-nothing princess is spending with her Seonghwa but she asked it anyway , just for the sake of it.

"No." She admits.

Mingi sighs, running his hand over the soft blanket laid on her lap. "They're not married yet you know . If you say it, I'll make some arrangements so you two could run off to a faraway place. He says he doesn't want the throne anyway. He honestly doesn't want anything that isn't you anymore. "

Y/n feels her heart beat increase at his words but her face remains neutral , trying not to lose her composure in front of Seonghwa's brother.

"I would never be able to keep him as happy as the princess might, though I hate to admit it. He's grown up in those palaces with thousands of servants and expensive clothes and luxurious cuisines. If he chooses me, he'll lose all of that. He'll lose his home , he'll lose the love of his countrymen, your highness. Why can't you of all people understand that? "

"No, I do understand, y/n. But I don't like seeing my brother like that. I and second prince Hongjoong have had to see him in such a miserable condition these past few months, not knowing what to do ," He says "No medicine for this illness ,right? " He adds, pointing a finger to the left side of his chest ; his heart.

"No, there isn't " she replies, but the "I wish there was " is silent.

"Are you out of your mind, Seonghwa ? Father will chop our heads off and have them displayed at the front gate of the palace!" Hongjoong is angry but he knows he's not exaggerating. Their excuse of a father might actually end up doing that if any of his children bring dishonor to the family.

"I agree. " Mingi agrees. Seonghwa paces to and fro in his room , the groom's clothes on his bed long forgotten. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair , hissing at himself for not being able to come up with a solid decision. He has to do something and he knows for a fact that he cannot marry the princess waiting for him in the king's court.

"I can't marry her. I will not marry her. "He keeps mumbling to himself under his breath as his brothers watch him helplessly.

The door of the room flies open without a warning and the three boys look at their father ,his majesty, the king of Goreyo entering the room with a horrified expression.

"The wench ran away." he says with a shaking breath, humiliation clear in his eyes. "The princess ran away with her lover to a far away place. I will wage a war on that kingdom! I will destroy them for this insult they've spat on our faces."

Seonghwa 's mind goes blank for a second , wondering if the words leaving his father's mouth were true or just a manifestation of his own imagination.

"Father, it's okay. I think everything happens for a reason. " Hongjoong speaks up , deciding to take one for the team. He trembles under his father's gaze but he swallows the fear. The universe knows he'd do anything for his brothers. Anything.

Mingi looks at Seonghwa ,as if signaling him to say something or do something instead of staring at the king like a statue. "Uh.. yes, yes, father. I don't think she'd have made a very good queen anyway so why waste our time fighting against such people? Let it go. Karma will get back to them."

He's speaking nonsense at this point but he doesn't care. He only wishes to see y/n as soon as possible.

"Fine, if you say so. Anyway I meant to ask you if you have a bride in mind. I can't cancel the whole wedding for a stupid girl ; you're getting married anyway, bring whoever you want, a common girl ,a noblewoman ,whatever. I just don't want my name to have a black stain on it because the crown prince's wedding got cancelled under my reign. "The king puts his hand on Seonghwa ‘s shoulder.

"Yes. Yes. I have someone in mind, father. I'll get her right away. " If you think he sprinted right out the door ,running off towards y/n's house without letting the king respond to his words, then you're absolutely right.

The knocks on her door seem oddly familiar ,too familiar to be true yet, without a second thought she opens it, although she wasn't actually expecting him to there.

" Seonghwa ! Did you run away from the wedding?" She cries, as he leans against her door and pants heavily.

"No." he gulps . " No. She ran away. Father wants me to marry whoever I want. Says he just wants to save his image."

Speechless. That is what she is as she watches him enter the small hut, his chest still heaving from the run and the sweat still fresh on his forehand. "I'm going to ask you this one last time, Y/n." he walks up to her ,trapping her by pinning her against the wall with his hands on either side of her head. "Will you marry me and become my Queen? Will you please do me this one favour? "

Y/n stares at him for a good five seconds, tears streaming down her face as she rests her hand on Seonghwa’s chest, the heartbeat from his chest matching hers.

When he raises an eyebrow demanding an answer, she doesn't reply but instead pulls his mouth down to meet hers. 

And that's all the answer he'll ever need.

[365days365movies]

April 12, 2021: Mrs. Doubtfire (1992) (Recap)

Hey, Robin Williams. Been a while.

I’m sorry that I haven’t watched your movies for a while, and that I always skip your comedy stand-up when my phone’s on shuffle. I just...let me explain. Since I was a kid, you were one of my favorite entertainers. That might as well have started the day I was born, because...well, we share a birthday, fun fact. But it definitely continued with the first movie I ever saw in theatres.

While I don’t quite remember the first time I saw it, Aladdin was one of my favorite childhood movies, and I knew that you were the voice of the Genie from an early age. You might have actually been the first actor I ever knew by name. Which makes sense, because your stardom during the ‘90s was nearly unparalleled.

The next film I remember seeing (and hearing) you in was Ferngully: The Last Rainforest. That also starred Tim Curry, who would also be a major figure of my childhood. It also wasn’t the best movie, in hindsight, but it is the only time I’ve heard you rap since.

But eventually, I watched your forays into live-action, too. Jumanji, Hook, even the objectively bad Flubber, are all movies that I vividly remember watching during childhood. I was really excited for Flubber, even, and I LOVED Jumanji growing up. I liked Hook, too, but I appreciated that more as I got older.

Of course, during this time period, you also made less family-friendly films. The Fisher King, Good Will Hunting, Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam, and What Dreams May Come were all very successful, and cemented your reputation as an actor. I also haven’t seen any of them. In fact...I don’t think I’ve seen any of your dramatic roles, and that’s something that I’ll fix this year. Hell, in a few days, I’ll watch The Birdcage, another of your big hits of the ‘90s.

But why haven’t I seen them up to now? Well...I was going to watch these films, about seven years ago. But...I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Because it hurts. A lot.

I know that this is a downer, but my relationship with Robin Williams today is tainted by his tragic death. I was fucking BROKEN when his death was announced, and I really haven’t been able to watch him since. I’ve seen Aladdin recently, but that’s about all I could stand to watch. I mean, the guy shares a birthday with me! I’ve always loved his comedy stylings, and his improvisational skills are something I’ve internalized to a certain degree.

So, yeah. This one’s tough. But, it’s about time I moved on, and celebrated the man’s career for what it was: stellar. And that also brings up an important question, that some of you have probably asked by now:

HOW HAVE I MISSED MRS. DOUBTFIRE, WHAT THE FUCK

I KNOW I KNOW OK?

Look, I’m not entirely sure how I haven’t seen this movie, because I’m MORE than aware of it! I remember it airing during the ‘90s, my Dad AND girlfriend love this movie, and I know FOR A FACT that my family owned both the DVD AND THE VHS of this movie! So, how? HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN IT BY NOW?

I honestly have no idea, but let’s fix it now, huh? Yet one more man-dresses-as-woman movie this month! And no, I am not watching White Chicks...because I’ve already seen White Chicks. Also, it’s...problematic.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

 Recap

Daniel Hillard (Robin Williams) is a voice-actor, and a good one. Which, given that it’s Robin Williams, isn’t entirely inaccurate. He’s also a voice actor with a spine, as he morally objects to a scene in the cartoon that he’s performing for, in which the main character smokes. By the way, I’m 99% sure that this cartoon is animated by Chuck Jones, and it looks well-made.

Anyway, this leads to him quitting the cartoon altogether, and allows him to pick up his kids early from school. These kids are Lydia (Lisa Hykub), Chris (Matthew Lawrence), and Natalie (Mara Wilson), and it’s Chris’ 12th birthday. Daniel arranges a...surprisingly large party, given that it’s completely impromptu, and it comes with a petting zoo and complete trappings. However, it’s not a party of which his wife will approve.

This wife is Miranda (Sally Field), a successful architect and the breadwinner of the family. After getting a call from the neighbor about the party, she comes home and busts the outrageous party. And for the record, I’m entirely on Miranda’s side here. This party is INSANE, and very irresponsible, given the fact that Daniel currently has no job. And yeah, he’s a very loving father, and a good person, but...it’s too much.

Miranda feels the same, and after 14 years of frustration, she realizes that she no longer loves Daniel. In a genuinely sad scene, she tells him that she wants a divorce. And she goes through with it MUCH to Daniel’s detriment. He has no home, as he’s staying with his brother, Frank (Harvey Fierstein) and his partner Jack (Scott Capurro). He also still has no job, meaning that he has no way to provide for his children. This means that he has no ability to provide, and the judge awards Miranda full custody. Oof.

However, this is a conditional arrangement, as another hearing for joint custody will be held in 3 months, and if Daniel can get a home and job in that time, he has a chance. He performs a litany of voices and impressions with his court liason, Mrs. Sellner (Anne Haney), which amuses me, but not her, and he gets a job in order to be with his kids for more than one day a week.

Meanwhile, Miranda IMMEDIATELY starts dating fellow designer and old flame Stuart Dunmeyer (Pierce Brosnan), like, almost before Daniel leaves the house. He bids a heartfelt goodbye to his kids, with the promise that he’ll see them on Saturdays. And now begins the absolute hatred and petty bitchiness of Daniel and Miranda! Seriously, it’s...it’s fucking terrible, and it takes away from my sympathy from either side. I get that divorce is rough and ugly, but GODDAMN, neither of them perform the act with any form of tact or grace.

This is put on display during the kids’ visitation to Daniel’s semi-crappy new apartment, which doesn’t even seem that bad, to be honest. Miranda dropped them off late and picked them up early, as if to slowly starve Daniel of time with his kids, which is extraordinarily shitty of her, fuck me. Daniel’s not taking it well, understandably, but then does something...really dumb, when you think about it.

See, Miranda’s looking for a nanny, to help watch the kids and clean the house during the week. Daniel volunteers his services, which is actually a good idea, but Miranda says she’ll think about it, which we ALL know means no. I DO NOT like Miranda, even if I understand the initial reasons for the divorce. She’s being especially spiteful, and it’s not a good look.

Daniel’s stupid idea, though, is to change the phone number on the ad for the nanny, which Miranda shows him before she takes the kids. Instead, he calls her number, and pretends to be various terrible applicants, until finally supplying his own applicant: the completely fictional Euphegenia Doubtfire (Daniel Hillard).

Daniel plays Mrs. Doubtfire as an elderly British woman, and a seasoned nanny in her day. Which is why it’s weird to me that, when he does to Frank and Jack to help him make an elaborate disguise as Mrs. Doubtfire, that they go through various other impressions and get-ups. Which, yes, is goddamn hilarious, but also makes NO SENSE, given that they’ve already established her character to Miranda. Funny, but nonsensical.

But, regardless, Euphegenis Doubtfire comes into being, and introduces herself to Miranda and the kids. Mrs. Doubtfire is exactly what Miranda’s looking for, although the kids aren’t exactly overjoyed, ESPECIALLY the oldest, Lydia. Also, during this first meeting, Miranda openly bad-mouths Daniel in front of the kids, in just the WORST fuckin’ way. I genuinely dislike Miranda A LOT. Again, the divorce was certainly justified, but I REALLY don’t like her. Daniel loves his kids, and they’re HIS kids, TOO. Stop using them as weapons against him, OOOOOOOOOOOH I DON’T LIKE MIRANDA

Anyway, that evening, after she’s officially been hired by Miranda, Mrs. Doubtfire heads home, only to find court liason Mrs. Sellner waiting to speak with Daniel. After a litany of puns, and a humorous changing scene, Daniel accidentally throws the Mrs. Doubtfire mask out of the window, and is forced to improvise through equally humorous circumstances. Hence, the above meringue mask scene. Has anybody tried that, by the way? Could that work as a groundbreaking beauty technique? Or would the sugar just feed the skin bacteria and give you acne? Genuinely curious.

Now going between his job as Daniel and the nanny job as Doubtfire, Daniel’s not doing too badly for himself. The nanny job begins, and Mrs. Doubtfire IMMEDIATELY contrasts with Daniel, creating a disciplinarian atmosphere in place of Daniel’s formerly loosey-goosey attitude. Which is interesting, and it works! I mean, it’s not how I would parent, but it does work. Doubtfire makes the kids to their homework, rather than watch TV, and then attempts to make dinner. Instead, though, the dinner’s ruined, and Daniel orders takeout and makes it LOOK like homemade food. And it looks good, too! Daniel’s full of hidden talents.

After dinner, as Mrs. Doubtfire’s leaving, Lydia apologizes for backtalking her earlier, and thanks her for making her mom happy with everything she did that evening. he also says that she’s still a bit messed up about her dad being gone. And yeah, it’s sweet-but-sad. 

Going forward (and in a montage set to Aerosmith’s Dude Looks Like a Lady), Mrs. Doubtfire takes care of the family, and Daniel even betters himself to become a better Mrs. Doubtfire. Which...to be honest, Daniel REALLY should’ve done this before. I get that he needed the pressure of losing the kids to do this, but...look, Daniel really wasn’t that responsible of a parent, and the fact that THIS is how he learns to be so is...not great. Like, here’s an example, OK: take Donald Trump.

Yeah, I know, what’s this politics doing in my peanut butter? And WOW, that reference is older than me, but anyway. Let’s say that, in two years, a new politician comes on the scene, and her name is Karyn Walldottir. She has somewhat centrist views, and behaves in a way that’s inclusive to the majority, and backs up her claims and promises with evidence (at least true enough for us to suspend our disbelief). This is, of course, Donald Trump disguised as a woman in order to gain custody of the United States of America again. Naturally.

Karyn Walldottir gets elected in 2024, and all of her policies are markedly different from Trump’s and Biden’s, but leaning closer to Biden in progressive standpoints (assuming that that worked for him come 2024). While Trump is doing this specifically to be president again, he ends up revising his personal policies, and being a better person and president for the country. A literal impossibility, I know. But suspend your disbelief to ask this question:

WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T HE DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

OK, now that that dumbass (and mildly horrifying) thought process is concluded, let’s get back to Mrs. Doubtfire. In the process of Mrs. Doubtfire’s ingratiation with the family, Miranda’s been dating Stu, whom Mrs. Doubtfire subtly insults when they meet. And yeah, Daniel’s being a little petty here, but it makes a bit of sense at least.

That night, after an accidental intrusion by Chris when Mrs. Doubtfire is going to the bathroom, Daniel’s basically forced to tell Chris and Lydia his little secret, which Lydia’s happy about, but Chris is understandably weirded out about. But, they agree to keep the secret from their mom and younger sister.

At his OTHER job, delivering film reels from a TV station, he witnesses the filming of an extremely boring kids educational TV show, and comments as such to another man watching. As he quickly learns, this is the owner of the station, Jonathan Lundy (Robert Prosky), on whom Daniel makes a good impression.

In the meantime, Mrs. Doubtfire has a talk with Miranda about their love lives, real and fictional. Daniel realizes how badly Miranda had been suffering in their marriage, which she never told him because...well, he never seemed to take anything seriously. Which is entirely fair...but this is why Miranda’s a tricky-ass character. She’s got two sides: there’s the justified caring mother and strong woman, and there’s the PETTY ASSHOLE who genuinely doesn’t care about Daniel or his feelings AT ALL. Jesus.

And Stu...look, Stu is LITERALLY a Gary Stu, who’s mostly perfect. Sure, he’s not always been that way, but he definitely is now! He’s responsible, wealthy, in love with Miranda AND her kids. And yeah, at a country club that he’s a member of (OF COURSE he is), he privately badmouth Daniel in front of Mrs. Doubtfire, calling him a loser, and...yeah, he’s not really unjustified in that statement. Fact of the matter is, Stu is barely even a plot device.

Meanwhile, in Daniel’s day job, he finds himself alone in the studio, where the toy dinosaurs from the TV show are still sitting on the table. He plays with them, gives them voices, sings some songs, and impresses Mr. Lundy, who’s there in the shadows after all that. He’s impressed, and invites Daniel to dinner to talk about a potential future show at the network.

But then, it’s also Miranda’s birthday coming up, and Stu’s holding a dinner for her, to which Mrs. Doubtfire is invited. Trouble is, it’s at the OH FUCK IT. YOU know what this is. It’s at the same time and place as the Mr. Lund meeting yaddayaddayadda LOOK. We ALL know how this is going to end. It’s the GODDAMN LIAR REVEALED TROPE AGAIN. And here’s the thing:

I FUGGIN’ HAAAAAATE THE LIAR REVEALED TROPE

You know, that thing in movies (especially family movies of the ‘90s) where somebody starts off a situation with a lie, they get deeper and deeper into that lie, grow close to people under false pretenses, and then OH NO! THE LIAR IS REVEALED! And everybody’s angry and/or sad, the liar slumps off, defeated and broken, but then realizes the error of his ways, while everybody else realizes the same thing, and he comes back to vindicate himself, and is welcomed back with open arms. And it introduces unneeded tension AND I HAVE ALWAYS FUCKING HATED IT.

Let’s list the examples, shall we? A Bug’s Life, Aladdin, Mulan, The Road to El Dorado, Chicken Run, How to Train Your Dragon, Klaus, Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted, Megamind (SUBVERSIVE MY ASS), Over the Hedge, Rango, Toy Story, Steven Universe (the whole Pearl/Sardonyx arc, which went on for WAY too long), the list goes on and fucking on. And I GODDAMN HATE IT. Not to say it can’t be done well. Disney actually usually does a pretty good job with it, and Dreamworks uses it A LOT, but almost always pretty well. But sometimes...GOD. Either way, it’s still used FAR too fucking much. And look. Here’s another one. Joy.

Look, at this point...I will freely admit that I'm biased against this trope, but it’s also obvious where this is headed. Basically, Daniel switches back and forth between the dinner with the family, and the dinner with Mr. Lundy. With Mr. Lundy, he gets absolutely SMASHED. Great. Great decision, Daniel.

So, yeah, Mrs. Doubtfire’s also smashed, which is pretty goddamn apparent to them all. At this point, I’m wondering why Daniel, as Mrs. Doubtfire, didn’t just say she was sick as hell, and had to go home. Or, considering the fact that Daniel proposes her as a show idea regardless, the switch wasn’t even necessary! And that means that none of what’s about to happen, happens. Or, here’s a crazy thought, maybe Daniel shouldn’t have POISONED STU’S FOOD WITH CAYENNE PEPPER THAT HE’S ALLERGIC TO! 

YEAH! Because that causes Stu to go into anaphylactic shock for a hot sec, causing him to choke. Mrs. Doubtfire does the right thing and gives him the Heimlich maneuver, and in the process, SURPRISE! IT’S BEEN DANIEL ALL ALONG! BUH BUH BUHHHHH DA DA DA DAAAAA DA

Yeah, so Miranda is understandably ENRAGED by this revelation, and it’s all over. Daniel represents himself in court at the custody hearing, but the judge deems his “lifestyle” dangerous for children. Which...yikes, Judge, that statement didn’t age well AT FUCKING ALL. But, given Daniel’s admitted stupidity with this whole idea, he’s not wrong about the dangerous part. But, I have to say, Daniel’s speech in his own defense is nice...although he also says he’s addicted to his children, so let’s throw a second yikes on there for good measure.

The speech moves Miranda...but not enough to prevent Daniel has his custody stripped away from him! GOD THEY BOTH SUUUUUUUUCK. Daniel’s a broken man, and Miranda and the kids are similarly broken without him and Mrs. Doubtfire. However...Daniel’s career isn’t broken AT ALL, as Mrs. Doubtfire is now a kid’s show host! Yeah! And she’s a hit! And again, it brings me to wonder why Daniel DIDN’T APPLY HIS OBVIOUS TALENTS LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST GODDAMN PLACE

Realizing that she made a mistake, she goes to the set during the filming of a show. She congratulates him on the show, and he replies by stating how broken he is now! Thanks, Miranda! Well, after an argument, and after Miranda sees how badly she’s messed up someone she used to care for, they come to an agreement: joint custody. FINALLY GODDAMN IT

And good, because I don’t want them back together. I have to give this film props for that: they acknowledge that these two are NOT good for each other, and they deliver a message in the end: families are families, no matter how they’re shaped. One mom, one dad, uncle or aunt, grandparents, adoption, two separated or divorced parents...oh, also, two dads or two moms. Yeah, that isn’t said in Mrs. Doubtfire’s final monologue, which is odd considering Daniel’s brother and his life partner...but it’s also kid’s TV in the ‘90s, so I guess that sadly makes sense. And with that, and their new family arrangement, Daniel takes his kids on an afternoon out, as himself.

...Look. That’s Mrs. Doubtfire, yaddayaddayadda LOOK. I don’t dislike this movie. In fact, here: have this mini-Review:

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Good, although Brosnan was a little stiff.

Plot and Writing - 5/10: It’s an idiot plot, what can I say? It’s actually based off of a book, which was a surprise to me, but it was adapted by Randi Mayem Singer and Leslie Dixon, and...eh. Still an idiot plot.

Directing and Cinematography - 8/10: It’s Chris Columbus, you get what you get. Definitely has that Home Alone flair to it.

Production and Art Design - 8/10: I mean, yeah, the Doubtfire disguise was good most of the time, but...I dunno, I could still tell it was Robin. But, still, it was good. Took 4 hours of makeup, fun fact.

Music and Editing - 8/10: Music by Howard Shore (ooh, Howard Shore!) was pretty nice, especially the ending theme. Editing by Raja Gosnell was...RAJA GOSNELL???

OH GOD. Yeah, OK, I see what happened here. Also, I didn’t know he was an editor! I just know him as the director of the Scooby-Doo films, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, The Smurfs films, Big Momma’s...

...OK, no, I am not doing Big Momma’s House OR the Madea movies. THE TROPE-BUCK STOPS HERE! I am moving on to something else! But, of course, I have to sum this up in a Review. See you there!

[hq--fics]

How The Captains Started Dating An Athletic/Sporty Fem!S/O

A/N: This is my first time doing this so decided to pick something at random. Feel free to request scenarios/head canons and I’ll do my best!

Characters: Daichi Sawamura, Kuroo Tetsuro, Bokuto Koutaro, Oikawa Toru, Ushijima Wakatoshi 

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Daichi

Sport of choice: Football/Soccer 

- You first met in the summer before starting middle school. You’d just moved into the house next to his. Naturally he came over with his parents to welcome you to the neighbourhood.

-Became friends almost right away when you appeared with a ball in your arms and asked if he wanted to play in the garden (anything to break up the boredom of unpacking) and got to know each other more, both finding your mutual love of sports an easy connection along with your open and friendly personalities.

- Your nervousness about starting school in a new area eased after finding out Daichi was going to be going to the same school as he was. At least you’d know one face in the sea of strangers. It was an even bigger relief when you were in the same class as him. Both of you swiftly becoming inseparable and best friends, though many classmates immediately assumed you were both a couple within your first month of school. Who could blame them with the way you both looked at each other? 

-The gossiping was only intensified when they saw you walk to and from school together every day, both in your own little happy bubble. It wasn’t your fault that football and volleyball practice ended at the same time, even when you guys got home you both found yourselves in one of your back gardens talking about anything and everything while passing a ball around.

-A confession occurred naturally in your final year. You were both walking home and talking high schools. Daichi became nervous, worrying how a different school might change things but you surprised him by laughing softly and putting your hand in his stating and ‘Isn’t it obvious by now? Where you go, I go.’

-Both of you are a power couple at Karasuno, excellent captains of your teams and cheer for the other at all matches. He is very vocal and worries immensely when you and another player come into contact over the ball. He’s the one to help patch you up and soothe your bruises after a particularly intense match. 

Kuroo

Sport of choice: Tennis

-You both met in second year of high school after being partnered together for a large science project. Up until then you barely had any interaction. Of course you had both looked at the other idly at times, you noticing his hands while he took an interest in your legs.

-After you were partnered you spoke briefly at lunch to work out what days and times would be best to get together and work on the project. He suggested the school library after school but you immediately declined stating firmly that you had practice, which caught his interest that only grew when you said it was tennis. 

-‘Oh? You mean like the short white sports skirt and suggestive grunting?’ he asked showing you his trademark grin. ‘Can I come watch?’ He expected you to blush but instead you wrote your number on a slip of paper and slipped it into his shirt pocket. 

‘Well if you’re as sharp with biology as you are with sports, we may actually pass.’ You told him with a smirk before throwing him a sly wink and left to have lunch with your friends and he couldn’t help but watch you go with a growing grin.

- On your first session together you both split the work evenly and begin on your respective sections and he wastes no time and immediately starts flirting with you in the hopes of getting some sort of reaction. You give him a witty remark in response most of the time or smirk. It’s entertaining and helps fill in the time you’re both researching through textbooks and notes.

-After your first session he insists on walking you home, managing to make you laugh out loud as he tells you about the antics he’s gotten up to at the training camps with the other schools. He could listen to that sound all day but his smile lessens when you sigh.

-‘Must be nice. Compared to volleyball, tennis is a lonely sport. I’m jealous.’ After that Kuro stops by during your practices, working on his side of the project and keeping you company. It works out well that your practice days don’t conflict with his so you can return the favour. Although both of you find it incredibly difficult to focus on the work in front of you, not when the other looks so good.   

-You confess mutually to each other after school when you celebrate passing your project, both going into a tight hug after the bell rang gaining a lot of attention from the rest of the class.

Bokuto

Sport of choice: Gymnastics

-You both met as a result of his overly enthusiastic and energetic afterschool practice. He had spiked the ball so hard it shot out of the gymnasium and across the walkway, rolling to a stop outside the gymnasium you were in. 

-‘You’re the one who hit it, you go get it.’ Akaashi had instructed him, refusing to throw another set to him until he went to retrieve the ball. Bokuto rushed out immediately and grabbed it, pausing when he heard music playing. Noticing the door was opened he peeked in.

-His eyes widened and his mouth hung open as he watched you twist and leap on the balance beam, moving in ways he never thought possible but it was so hypnotic he all but forgot about the sport he was meant to be playing which is saying a lot. 

-At one point it looked like you were about to slip and fall he felt his own stomach lurch but let out a sigh when you arced and continued with steely determination and grace he realised you were okay. When you leapt from the beam and onto the mat he let out a cheer that made you jump watching with wide eyes as he ran toward you already praising you. 

-However he was quickly stopped when Akaashi appeared from behind him and took a firm hold of his captain’s shirt. He apologised to you making Bokuto stop and watch the exchange with lessening enthusiasm. Why did he already know your name and he couldn’t even introduce himself? He was beginning to pout heavily.

-‘We’ll let you get back to your practice, come on Bokuto.’ He lets himself get dragged away but he’s looking over his shoulder at you until you’re out of view. It isn’t until he’s back in his own gym that he interrogates Akaashi, finding out your name and that you’re in his setter’s class.

-Your poor classmate somehow becomes the middleman between the two of you. Bokuto begs him relentlessly to ask if he can have your number and is shocked when you approach him at lunch to sheepishly ask him for Bokuto’s. Blushing you said it was flattering that the ace had complimented you so much.

-After numbers are exchanged you’re both texting non-stop and poor Akaashi has to listen to you both gush about the other constantly. 

Oikawa

Sport of choice: Volleyball

-You both know each other since middle school through reputation and watching each other play in tournaments and you’ve both hated each other since the first meeting. No one really knows how it came about it’s just always been there.

-He’s the Grand King that the girls scream and swoon over? You’re titled the Goddess of the Court by the boys. (It annoys him so much that your nickname is a rank higher than his but would never say it out loud.) 

-You’re both the same year and spent your entire first year doing all you could to avoid the other. Class projects, trips, tournaments, festivals? You both point blank refused to be in the same group at all costs. 

-When you do interact it’s snide comments and intense staring contests with Iwaizumi watching the two of you like it’s his favourite soap opera. He can feel the tension between the two of you and knows not all of it is fuelled by negative emotions. Far from it. While it’s his favourite thing to watch he can’t help himself but poke the hornet’s nest one day when both teams are at a tournament. 

- ‘We should go watch.’ He suggests lightly tapping the roster and Oikawa clicks his tongue so sharply the first years flinch. ‘Our match isn’t for a while yet. You got a better idea to pass the time before we have to warm up?’ Some of the others speak up, eager to just look at the girls in general but won’t pass up a chance to see the Goddess play as a bonus. 

- He joins the others regardless and when he takes his seat he realises he hasn’t seen you on the court since you were kids and now he’s taking notice of everything. The way you move, your presence on court, your silent but powerful dominance of the opponents that makes them lose hope with every point your team takes under your wordless command. You’re amazing. 

-He finds you when your match is concluded and he’s on his way to his match and asks to speak to you in private. Iwaizumi has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his smug grin as he passes. 

-You’re curious about the sudden change in him when he begins to apologise for his previous behaviour towards you and asks would you consider spending time together outside of the tournament. You agree on the condition he wins his next match, which he does that starts the beginning of your unstoppable relationship.

Ushijima

Sport of choice: Kickboxing

- Probably the most unexpected and unintentional of meetings for you two as dating was never really on either of your radars, both minds set on your ambitions and nothing else. Both of you were in the same year and knew of the other’s standing in their sport and respected that but there was no other interaction.

-That was however changed on one of his runs, his teammates far behind him as usual. Then he heard the muffled sound of music behind him and saw you pass by him with headphones on. Given the weather was starting to get colder he was surprised you were just wearing a tanktop and shorts but it did let him notice your toned body. (he may be stoic but he’d definitely notice the results of hard work and dedication.)

-He also notices the suspicious looks some people on the street throw his way and then he sees it; a guy his size running behind a young girl who doesn’t realise his there? Yeah that’d send warning bells ringing anywhere so he speeds up to overtake you. Last thing he needs is for the police to be called. Then he blinks to see you out of the corner of his eye taking the lead again which he does his best to avoid you in succeeding at.

- It goes back and forth until you both have to stop at the traffic lights. That’s when you pull your headphones out to throw him an incredulous look. ‘There a problem?’ you ask wondering were the sudden racing competition came from.

-‘I don’t want people to think I’m chasing you like a pervert.’ he answers so matter-of-factly you blink and let out a laugh. You can’t argue with that and when the light turns green you lightly punch his arm. 

- ‘You’re welcome to run beside me…if you can keep up.’ You challenge playfully and start running again. It takes him a moment to register your words and feels where you hit him as his lips quirk into a brief smirk and sets off after you catching up in no time. 

-This ritual of running together starts after that day and after a while Ushijima notices you’ve stopped listening to music completely on your runs and notes his observation aloud one day. 

-‘Why would I when I’m spending time with you?’ you answer before throwing him a teasing grin. ‘Besides I need to listen out for potential perverts chasing me.’ ‘Not while I’m here.’ He answers simply and you smile, sensing the deeper meaning to his words. You both fall into a relationship easily after that. While you both can’t attend all of the other’s events you both support each other fiercely and loyally, knowing you’re both more than capable of keeping up with the competition.