#You know in case he needs to battle someone mid ceremony

[nomsfaultau]

Fancy boi hours

[dramioneficrecommendations]

Best Draco/Hermione Fics Dramione Shippers Read in 2020

A few days ago, I asked you what were the best Dramione fics you'd read in 2020. Here's the huge list of your excellent recs (in alphabetical order):

A Creature Most Unusual by JMilz: Draco Malfoy is on a mission. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger catches him in the act. When she sees that he has adopted a rather unusual magical creature, she becomes determined to make sure he takes care of it. Little does she know, the animal may hold her key to eternal glory . . . and a whirlwind romance. M, 9 Chapters, 24,460 Words

A Little More Alive, Far Less Lost by MGL_Dramione_Lover: After Draco's post-war trial, he finds himself attending his 8th year at Hogwarts with Hermione. As remorse and acceptance replace anger and hate, the old enemies begin a friendship that sparks into much more than they ever hoped for. Hermione's goal as Head Girl is to banish old prejudices and unite the school while Draco's only wish is to become a man worthy of her love. M, 22 Chapters, 84,823

A New Light by mithrilstarlight: Draco spent six years doing his best to keep his head down. Then he runs into Hermione Granger. Turns out, they actually have a lot in common.Chapters posted M/W/F. T, 18 Chapters, 33,876 Words

A Second Look by RiverWriter: Her best friend's life was a mess and she would have done anything to make things better for him and his sons. So, when she found her former enemy in a similar situation her heart went out to him as well... and the beautiful blond baby in his arms didn't hurt his case. It was certainly enough for her to give him a second look. M, 30 Chapters, 127,243 Words

All that is Rare by smithandbarrowman: In the wizarding world, it has long been assumed that men are Alphas and women are Omegas. However, when Hermione Granger discovers that assumptions are rarely factual, her status as one of only a handful of female alphas that has ever existed has men falling at her feet.But there’s only one man she wants, and like the male alphas before her, the hunt is on until he bears her mark. E, 31 Chapters, 119,755 Words

All the Wrong Things by LovesBitca8: Sequel to "The Right Thing to Do" - Draco's POV. Part 2 of the "Rights and Wrongs" series. E, 24 Chapters, 160,297 Words

All You Want by senlinyu: Eighth Year at Hogwarts was supposed to be Hermione’s. And it is, just not in the way she expects. Omegaverse fic. E, 36 Chapters, 172,651

apples & cream by LovesBitca8: She could have taken her things and gone through his Floo without a word. She could have ignored him on Monday morning, as though last night had been no more than a fever dream and too much Firewhisky. But she’d come back to bed. Inspired by the lovely NikitaJuice's "apples & cream." E, 1 Chapter, 1,426 Words

Beginning and End by mightbewriting: Years. Broken into months into weeks into days—into hours, minutes, seconds—into moments. Simple at one end, complex at the other. In Draco’s experience, moments, even when simple, had a habit of becoming irretrievable. Moments grew, stretched, multiplied into ages and eras that defined whole stretches of measurable time. Draco regretted several moments in his life, some within his control, some without: all of them irretrievable in nature. At a certain point, wedged between ‘what-ifs’ of his own devising, he’d stopped trying to keep track of those regrettable moments: now and then, pushing and pulling, coming and going, beginning and end. Moments were only moments for just as long. After that, he had no control. A Draco POV prequel to Wait and Hope. E, 48 Chapters, 242,100 Words

Bells on a Hill by HeyJude19: Left by his fiancée a month before the ceremony, Draco never got his dream wedding, so agreeing to assist Granger with her own wedding planning to distract himself from his broken engagement seems like a great idea—though Draco probably shouldn't fall in love with the bride-to-be. Based very (very) loosely on The Wedding Singer. T, WIP

Bending Light by scullymurphy: Draco Malfoy was in exile, though they called it protection. It was the summer after sixth year and he'd taken Dumbledore's offer, defected to the other side and been sent away to a small town in Italy for his troubles. No magic, few rules, and not a lot to do - until Hermione Granger showed up. M, WIP

Break for me by Ada_P_Rix: COMPLETE _______________ "-I told them this wouldn’t work.” He cut in through gritted teeth as he kept his eyes on Hermione, making her pulse quicken and she couldn’t help but clench her thighs together at the rough, husky tone of his voice. He didn’t miss it; his eyes landed on her thighs and they darkened even further. “I can’t help her when all I feel like I want to do is pin her down and fuck her into the mattress.” _______________ Hermione gets into a little accident at work and is infected with a hybrid potion created to cause certain heightened side effects. Draco offers to stick around to give his work partner a little support ... if he can Occlude long enough to resist her... E, 7 Chapters, 45,107 Words

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by Onyx_and_Elm: For a moment, she's almost giddy. Because Draco Malfoy's been ruined by this war and he's as out of place as she is and — yes, he has scars too. He's got an even bigger one. She wonders whether one day they'll compare sizes. E, 51 Chapters, 148,908 Words

Bring Him to His Knees by Musyc: Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting. E, WIP

Calendar Boys by anne_ammons, Nadiapolyakova (Rijaya83): She had thrown out the idea on a lark, but now Hermione Granger was tasked with bringing the charity calendar to life. What was one more thing on her list? An art/writing collaboration between nadiapolyakova and anne_ammons - twelve photos and a piece of the story behind them. M, WIP

Cherry Mint by dirtymudblood: "He could smell her. Even multiple train cars away, he could smell her. Except, Draco didn’t know who she was. He ignored his natural instincts to pant like a dog and follow the scent to the omega in the beginning stages of heat. Instead he willed himself to rub his knuckles against the rough wood of the table in front of him." E, 27 Chapters, 58,081 Words

Dark Water and Dying Eyebrights by bexchan: One of them is desperately trying to remember their past while the other is forever trying to escape theirs. It's seven years after the war and Draco has managed to avoid almost everyone from Hogwarts, living a lonely life on a small island, far away from the wizarding community. But a familiar face in a cafe window capsizes his world into chaos. Dramione. EWE. Memory fic. M, WIP

Difficult by provocative envy: COMPLETE: "I should," I repeated. "But I don't want to." And then he smiled, and I was wrecked. HG/DM. M, 30 Chapters, 87,041 Words

Don't Look Back by Onyx_and_Elm: It’s the smell of it. Chemical. Bitter and sharp as a raw edge on metal. Just a hint of it as she passes him at breakfast — but enough to stop her dead, mid-step. There is Wolfsbane in his tea. E, WIP

Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time by monsterleadmehome: She scoffs. “If you must know, he ‘elected’ me because he thinks our shared animosity will keep you in check. He’s also not worried about you trying to shag me as a distraction.” He leans back, stubbing out his cigarette on the banister. His eyes rove over her from crown to toe and back. She lifts her chin and tries not to shiver. “Well, he’s right about that.” Lucius Malfoy hires Hermione Granger to whip his son into shape so he can find a pure-blood bride and receive his inheritance. What could go wrong? E, 10 Chapters, 48,092 Words

Draco's Gift by TriDogMom: Draco gives Hermione a gift because of an instructional YouTube video. M, 1 Chapter, 1,705 Words

Dragon in the Dark by GracefulLioness: The battle is won, Voldemort is dead, but the war is far from over. In the new Death Eater regime, Draco Malfoy does what he must to survive and keep his mother safe. Now a highly trained assassin, Draco has learned to think of his targets as inhuman beings, but when he is tasked with killing someone from his past, he can no longer hide from the horrors of the world around him. E, 31 Chapters, 164,782 Words

For a Present Under the Tree by grace_lou_freebush: When Draco and Hermione eloped, the Wizarding World turned against them. Hermione is stuck in a low level, low paying Ministry job with no hope of upward movement. Draco can't even convince someone to hire him. Now, it's Christmas, and Draco knows Hermione deserves the world - or at the least a Christmas gift. He finds the perfect hair comb to replace the horrid Muggle brush she's been making due with, and he'll do anything to afford the paltry present so he can have something to put under the Christmas tree for his wife. Making a beeline for the jewelry box containing the hair combs, Draco rifled through them, landing on an ivory comb with queen anne rose carvings and gold filigree detailing. He brought it to the startled shopkeeper and set it down gently. Pulling his sixth generation Malfoy heirloom pocket watch from his coat, he shoved it in the wizard's face without second guessing himself. "I would like to make an exchange." E, 1 Chapter, 10,141 Words

Fortuitous by MrsRen: Recently divorced Draco doesn't believe in the ideology of having one true love. He certainly doesn't expect to meet his match in a Halloween themed coffee shop, but fate has a peculiar way of giving you just what you need. M, 13 Chapters, 93,695 Words

Fuck, Marry, Avada by Lilian_Silver: Some years after the war, the gang meets up at the Leaky to play a silly game, with very real consequences. E, 1 Chapter, 3,106 Words

Give Me An Hour by RZZMG: As the war continues to rage on around them, Hermione Granger decides to seduce fellow Order Member, Draco Malfoy, one night while at Grimmauld Place... and everything between them changes after that. Fic follows the "five times" trope, and is dedicated to raspberryjukebox. One-shot. A/U-Extended War scenario. Dramione. Drama-Romance-Hot Shag! COMPLETE! M, 1 Chapter, 3,251 Words

Good Girl by arabellaleyes: Hermione is tired of their normal routine in the bedroom. What will happen when she asks Draco to spice things up? One-shot. Complete. M, 1 Chapter, 9,000 Words

Hindsight by floorcoaster: It's a New Year and Hermione decides it's time to make some changes. T, 12 Chapters, 167,694 Words

How to Love Thy Neighbour by WhatSoMalfoy: After her relationship with Ron falls apart, Hermione attempts to juggle a personal muggle life with a professional wizarding one. After encountering her high school nemesis in the most unlikely place, Hermione adds another ball to the juggling mix. M, 14 Chapters, 41,992 Words

How to Move On by longdistance: It's been nearly a decade since the war. A long time since she locked herself away. A long time since he faced his mistakes. She's what he wants. He's what she needs. It's time for both of them to figure out how to move on. M, WIP

Hydrotherapy by eilonwy: Draco finds a trip to the showers after playing Quidditch... enlightening. E, 2 Chapters, 7,163 Words

I Choose You by melanoradrood: At the end of Fifth Year, Hermione finds out why It is that none have approached her with a Marital Contract, the only way she can remain in the Wizarding World after Graduation. It has already been signed by her Magical Guardian, someone she has never met - she is to be the next Lady Malfoy. A year and a half later, she is a married witch, but still, Draco Malfoy, who had chosen her above all others, had not spoken of it. In fact, they barely spoke at all. And when trouble heads their way, Hermione means to change that. Really, she means to change a lot of things. E, 5 Chapters, 24,527 Words

Isolation by Bex-chan: He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!" DM/HG. PostHBP. Now complete with epilogue. M, 49 Chapters, 284,050 Words

It Happened in Egypt by bionically: Wandless in Egypt: Draco's stranded in Egypt, but luckily, there's a Granger in sight. Now, if only he could be prevented from strangling her. Fun times abroad: It was supposed to be a leisurely solo trip down the Nile. Hermione didn't factor in one blond man from her past and all his drama. Then, of course, there's the fact that everyone's after him. Much hilarity ensues. Maybe. *** A rom-com adventure/mystery featuring two unwilling partners on the run from Lucius Malfoy, alien-hunters, Muggle police, and local wizards engaged in a civil war. T, WIP

Love and Other Misfortunes by senlinyu: Draco Malfoy is dying. He's part-Veela and needs his mate to survive. Post-war, Hermione Granger is a workaholic, up to her eyeballs in legal activism on behalf of Magical Beings, and hasn't yet noticed that Malfoy is the Magical Being who needs her most. “Because I don’t want to be saved by you just because you feel like you have to.” He was properly furious now. “I’m in love with you." Hermione stared at him. She knew but somehow hearing him say it made the air shimmer with magic. "I’m in love with you,” he said again, despairingly. “And that means I want you to be as happy as you possibly can. And you won’t be, not with me.” M, 23 Chapters, 98,584 Words 

Manacled by senlinyu: Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret, lost but hidden in her mind, so she is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve until her mind can be cracked.Now illustrated by Avendell. E, 77 Chapters, 370,473 Words

Measure Of A Man by inadaze22: To truly know someone is to differentiate between who they once were, who they are now, and who they're capable of being. Hermione realises the duality of one man as she rectifies what she knows of the past and begins to understand the pieces of who Draco Malfoy is now: a father, a son, and a man. E, WIP

Meet the Malfoys by raven_maiden: 4 Works, 21, 442 Words

of flavoured names and coloured sounds by Pink Panda (Ejacyeolation): "He doesn’t question it at first, the fact that sounds have colours and words have flavours. He grows up with it, grows up seeing powerful ruptures of colour when his mother plays the piano and softer, translucent bursts when the people around him speak. His father’s voice fills his vision with sombre oranges and lilacs while his mother’s is a pleasant mix of delicate greens, blues, and greys. The word father tastes like wet wood and the word mother tastes like the pumpkin juice the house-elves frequently serve him."In which Draco just wants to know what colour Hermione's moans would be. He also wants to know if her skin would taste as sweet as her surname or maybe as intoxicating as her given name. E, 2 Chapters, 10,351

Once Upon a Night by longdistance: One night will change everything. M, 17 Chapters, 57,444 Words

One and Done by PacificRimbaud: Hermione Granger has a career she loves, friends she can depend on, and a nice set of hand towels for her new flat. She's single and tired of tiresome men, but that doesn't stop her from wearing beautiful lingerie underneath her serious Ministry skirts. Or having pictures taken in naughty knickers. Just once. For herself. Draco Malfoy doesn't get upset at the sight of blood, which is good, because he sees a lot of it. What he doesn't see a lot of is Hermione Granger in her unmentionables. Usually. A series of meetings and mix-ups in which one cannot possibly mean done. E, 4 Chapters, 35,011 Words

Our shared silence by Vofastudum: She wakes up one morning and everyone is just gone, vanished like they never existed at all. Everyone but Him. And in this silent solitude, he's all she has. Hermione and Draco alone in empty castle. Mystery and a plot twist you didn't see coming! EDITED 10/2020 M, 17 Chapters, 40,149 Words

Pinned by bionically: Draco doesn't know what he's expecting when he follows Blaise down a dark alley, but it certainly isn't this. For a man with an addictive personality, this isn't going to turn out well. Assigned trope: Voyeurism *** Or, a chance encounter with a frizzy-haired witch from his misbegotten past in the last place anyone should have expected to see her sets Draco's disordered life on its ear. The path to redemption is truly paved with unexpected surprises. E, 20 Chapters, 110,886 Words

Really Sell It by RoseHarperMaxwell: Draco's having a rough eighth year, and Hermione's going to make it better for him. "Well, it’s clear what needs to happen.” She gripped his chin, tilting his head to make sure she hadn’t missed any injuries, before looking straight into his eyes. “You’re my boyfriend now.” *Featuring fake dating, exhibitionism, and sex-positive Hermione Granger. Submission for Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Smut Fest. E, 1 Chapters, 7,612 Words

Remain Nameless by HeyJude19: How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence. Hermione is living her life in fragments, separate pieces scattered about, and she can’t find a way to step back and let the full picture form. Why are morning meetings with Draco Malfoy the only thing that make sense anymore? E, 51 Chapters, 312,315 Words

Remember Us As War (but call us forgiveness) by Anyaparadox: Following the devastation of the Battle of Hogwarts, The Wizarding Population Growth Act is put into effect. All witches and wizards will be matched with their most compatible partner. Failure to comply will not be tolerated. Survival is key. Hermione reminds herself of this. Survival. She can fix this, if only she can survive. The war has made this a task she is equipped for. Marrying Draco Malfoy will hardly be the worst thing she's ever endured. M, WIP

Ring A Ring O' Roses by Gallivant: Dark Magic, Dark Wizards and a mysterious and deadly Dark Flux, which, in the wrong hands, has the terrifying potential to mass-murder Muggles and Muggle-borns ... It’s been fourteen years since the end of the Second Wizarding War and the Wizarding World is settled, stable and seemingly safe… Hermione Weasley has it all: a loving family, a successful career - and happiness… of sorts. But a series of unexpected events is about to turn her life upside-down, threatening those she loves, fatally undermining the peace between worlds that has prevailed for centuries … changing life as she knows it, possibly forever. If working with Draco Malfoy was the last thing Hermione Weasley ever wanted, falling for your enemy was the least expected. A quest to thwart a magical weapon of mass destruction has devastating consequences. A race to save the world, becomes a race to save themselves… M, 65 Chapters, 527,141 Chapters

Set Fire to the Rain by HarleyQuinn1317: What happens when the one you're destined for is the last person you should ever be with... When the Ministry of Magic asks for volunteers for their Marriage Initiative, Hermione Granger must come to terms with the one terrible deed she committed during the Second Wizarding War. Can she find it in her heart to forgive herself and finally learn to let love in? E, WIP

Sex and Occlumency by Graendoll: Hermione didn't escape from the war unscathed, and when she finally decides on a solution to her problems she's left to explore it on her own. A chance encounter with Draco Malfoy sets her world on it's head and leads her down a path towards healing that she would never have anticipated. E, 18 Chapters, 65,079 Words

The Art of Seating Etiquette by inadaze22: Hermione believes that every problem has a solution, and that solution can be found in a book. That is, until Draco starts sitting to her right every Friday. She has no answers until help comes in the form of an unlikely source: Ron Weasley. E, 1 Chapter, 9,734 Words

The Auction by LovesBitca8: In the wake of the Dark Lord’s triumph over Harry Potter, the defeated must learn their new place. Hermione Granger, former Golden Girl, has been captured and reduced to human chattel. Sold to the highest bidder as the top prize at an auction of Order members and sympathizers, she is thrust into the rabid, waiting hands of the Death Eaters. But despite the horrors of Voldemort’s new world, help—and hope—seem to arise from the most unlikely of places. PART 3 of the RIGHTS AND WRONGS series. E, 41 Chapters, 325,702 Words

The Binding by Curly_Kay: “Okay, what we know so far.” Hermione listed, "One, our magic is drawing us together. Two, we can use each other’s wands. Three, there were actual sparks when you touched me."After an infant binding ritual magically joins Hermione and Draco to counteract the Black family blood curse, they must navigate the secret binding through their years together at Hogwarts. E, 35 Chapters, 175,451 Words

The Carnal Club by Ada_P_Rix: COMPLETE The Halloween Ball is fast approaching with Hermione at the helm.... What a delightful time to suddenly learn of a centuries old secret sex-game club that is currently ran by a Blonde haired Slytherin. Oh, and it only happens once a year every October, when the winner takes all at the Halloween Ball ...The First Rule of Carnal Club: You do not talk about Carnal Club. E, 8 Chapters, 43,306 Words

The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy by Speechwriter (batmansymbol): The night that Harry and Dumbledore return from the cave, the Death Eaters are delayed from reaching the top of the Astronomy Tower for one more minute. Draco Malfoy lowers his wand. A Deathly Hallows rewrite in which Draco accepts Dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the Order of the Phoenix. T, WIP

The Erised Effect by Ada_P_Rix: Hermione and Pansy work in a shop together. Draco, Harry, Theo and Blaise all work together at the Ministry. They all meet up every Friday at the pub to have drinks. Pansy has a new fantasy potion that she likes to call 'The Erised Effect' that she's keen to try out on willing participants ... Boys are so easy to manipulate when alcohol is involved .... E, 13 Chapters, 88,852 Words

The Fallout by everythursday: Hermione learns about growing up through the redemption of Draco Malfoy. E, 49 Chapters, 310,229 Words

The Figures of Figuring Out by Vofastudum: You were the biggest riddle in my life. You were the one I couldn't figure out. You were the only thing I couldn't find a pattern to. You were something I couldn't look up from any book. Unwritten, with no instructions. And I was used to finding solutions! Post-war eight-year secret romance. Edited 12/2020 M, 13 Chapters, 26,951 Words

The Flat in Bath by Ada_P_Rix: Loosely inspired by 365 Days...-- Malfoy grabbed her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. “Don’t you dare, Granger...” He told her roughly as his intense gaze bored into her own. “I fucking forbid you to come until I’ve had enough of you...” Draco caught her cheeks now between the fingers of his free hand and then snapped her head to the side and licked her earlobe, trailing down to her jawline. “...one flutter of those delicious walls of yours and you’re going to wish you never opened your legs for me.” -- __________________ Hermione is kidnapped during a raid and taken captive by someone who doesn't plan on 'torturing' her in the conventional way... E, WIP

The Gloriana Set by ThebeMoon: The War is won, and Hermione Granger is back at Hogwarts as an “Eighth Year”, feeling reckless and determined to shed her prim bookworm persona. She will do as she pleases, and anyone who doesn’t like it will see the business end of her wand. Also returning is Draco Malfoy, universally hated but determined to restore his family’s name. Hermione’s hopes for a quiet school year are quickly dashed as she contends with mischievous First Years, killer plants, enchanted hair accessories, a totally inappropriate Moaning Myrtle, renegade Death Eaters, a nice vampire, a poorly named study group, a depraved party, and mysterious, threatening blood messages on the castle walls. We have redemption, partial redemption and (sadly or hilariously) no redemption at all. Throw in a snarky, disturbingly attractive Draco with his own secret agenda, and we have a very slow-burn Dramione with a side of who-dun-it. COMPLETE! M, 81 Chapters, 271,830 Words

The Library of Alexandria by senlinyu: The Library of Alexandria is not for just any witch or wizard. Many bookworms may try but few are permitted to pass through its doors. The books residing there are ancient and powerful and, if one happens to make a mistake, the consequences can be rather—novel. E, 6 Chapters, 26,383 Words

The List by AureliaBlack90: After her divorce, Hermione decides to get out of town to recover from the pain of her lost relationship and the miscarriage she suffered a year previously. She arrives in the Cotswolds depressed and aimless but compiles a list of things to do that she hopes will help her get back on her feet. In the midst of her journey to find healing she keeps running into Draco Malfoy, who is nothing like she remembered him. He invites her into his world, and Hermione finds exactly what she was looking for - in the place she least expected it. E, 10 Chapters, 70,526 Words

The Manuscript by alexandra_emerson: Five 1/2 years after the war, in the middle of a big fight with Draco, Hermione finds a manuscript. It’s a retelling of her and Draco’s love story, written by him. She never realized how much he was struggling before she read his words. Snippet: I could spend my whole life apologizing to you Hermione, and it would never be enough. Post-war, angst-filled Dramione with a happy ending. M, 21 Chapters, 154,918 Words

The Memory of You by PotionChemist: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger fell in love against all odds, but there was one big problem — he was already married. Pressured, Hermione does something she promised herself she would never do again and erases their affair from his memory. Completely devastated, she avoids seeing Draco or the Malfoys at all costs. But is their love too strong? Are they inevitable? What will happen if he finds out about their previous relationship? E, WIP

The Mountain and The Sea by AlexisDanaan: Hermione Granger was perfectly happy with her life, her job as a Healer Trainee, her ugly cat and her cute little house in the countryside. And then Draco Malfoy had to go and mess that all up, typical git. Post-Hogwarts, EWE, OOC, creature!fic. E, 12 Chapters, 40,441 Words

The Nietzsche Classes by Beringae: The Ministry takes action against the remaining prejudice in the wizarding society and asks Hermione for help. “What do you want? Money? Power? Name your price, Granger. I’m not about to let pride get in my way when an Azkaban sentence is on the line.” M, 15 Chapters, 45,807 Words

The Phoenix Potion by FedonCiadale: Twenty years after the battle of Hogwarts.... Harry is head auror and is worried about cases where Muggleborn children meet with accidents, Ron is a famous Quidditch keeper. Both haven't talked to Hermione for ages and certainly not to her husband, Draco Malfoy. Narcissa Malfoy struggles with a curse, and Neville and Luna try to stay friends with all. The key to solving the problems may lie in the past, a time nobody really wants to revisit and some can't. T, 111 Chapters, 237,745 Words

The Potioneers by omnenomnom: They need each other unfortunately. Hermione has tricked Draco under her tutelage, arrogant attitude and all. But she would be simple to think he would accept it quietly. They have both have secrets to hide, old wounds better left to fester, and a world full of mermaids, dragons, and magic to explore. T, 53 Chapters, 196,559 Words

The Pretense by Colubrina: Voldemort died, but the Death Eaters live on. Hermione Granger traded herself to Draco Malfoy in exchange for safe passage for core Order members. Now he's pretending to love her, Narcissa is pretending to believe that, and Hermione is walking a tightrope behind enemy lines as she figures out what is going on. Unfortunately, people fall off tightropes. (no non-con) T, 50 Chapters, 108,164 Words

The Right Thing To Do by LovesBitca8: Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl. E, 36 Chapters, 174,911 Words

The Seven Year Witch by TheLastLynx: A boy and a girl have been meeting – coincidentally – for seven summers. While they pretty much hate one another most of the year, for those secret summer moments, they manage to see each other in a different light. But will that be enough to bring them together? A Dramione story about growing up and changing perspective, told along - and in-between - the lines of canon. M, WIP

Thirty Times Lucky by galfoy: "Granger, I can't hire you on any longer," Draco said. Hermione stared at him. Losing her job might actually mean losing the War, and she had to bargain, but there was literally nothing she had that he would want. Or was there? M, 2 Chapters, 7,128 Words

Traditions by raven_maiden: She straddled him slowly, still biting her lip, her hands on his shoulders. He held her hips tightly as he stared up at her. “So beautiful,” he whispered, and she flushed prettily, like she always did from his compliments. “You never need to hide from me.” ** Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fell in love during the war. One year later, they're heading home for the holidays so he can finally meet her parents. There's just one teeny little problem: her parents think they're both Muggles. E, 14 Chapters, 68,767 Words

Waifs and Strays by Kyonomiko: War leaves a lot of orphans in its wake. Hermione is one, by her own hand, and she struggles with the realities of her situation. When she finds an orphaned familiar, it seems meant to be, giving and receiving comfort helping to heal her fractured heart. Unfortunately, the animal is actually a wizard, and he has his own issues. M, 31 Chapters, 118,152 Words

What You Think Is Right by icepower55: Six years after the war, Hermione parents are dying and her marriage to Draco is crumbling. Nothing seems logical in her life anymore. Her healer tells her to start writing about it, so she does, as a way to figure things out, and remind herself along the way. Hell is proximity without intimacy -Dante's Inferno M, WIP

When the Bell Tolls by everythursday: As a Dark revival begins to rise four years after the war, Hermione Granger is placed on the assignment of putting an end to them – and her first task is to recruit the Ministry's best hope and last option in the form of Draco Malfoy. E, 20 Chapters, 148,033 Words

Wreck by JMilz: Serving as Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger is finally at the peak of her career. With a beautiful family, a successful book, and the public on her side, her life should be a fairytale. Unfortunately, there is trouble in paradise, and when Draco Malfoy pays her a visit, she begins recalling their history and questioning her marriage. The reality is: every relationship is hard. M, 53 Chapters, 187,992 Words

Thanks to every person who contributed (I hope I've mentioned everyone. If not, let me know. 😊): @certified-arsehole @fedonciadale kiwim22 @really-sad-devil-guy endless-musings @headfullofnargles @pinksunsets-world @rosseliz01 @dramioneden @all-consuming @elricsister @injailoutsoon12 reclusivebird @mariakov81 @notthatchhavi @mordanbooqs @haaatch @hpsassenach @ybaeby @farmgirl-in @coyg-81 @eiramrelyat metterschling-plus-two @a-maidens-fantasy @sansacat @vofastudum @lexayeon @1800-rewrite @aneiria-writes @anonymouslydramione 

It took much longer to compile this list than I thought it would. Hopefully, I didn’t skip anything. 🙈

Happy New Year. May it be better than the previous one and full of great Dramione fics and fanarts! 🥳🥳🥳

And here’s the 2019 list: https://dramioneficrecommendations.tumblr.com/post/190216354767/what-is-the-best-dramione-fic-you-read-in-2019

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Kar’taylir Darasuum

AN ESSAY ON LOVE IN MANDALORIAN CULTURE 

A/N: This post has been a long time coming and I am SORRY for that. The lovely @darkmist111​ wanted to know more about courtship and romance as it pertains to the world of Resol’nare, and well... I sort of got carried away with research and head cannons and... well, you’ll see. 

Quick links: Resol’nare // Hokan’yc // Mando’a Dictionary

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of violence, death - they are a culture of warriors, my friends, it’s unavoidable. 

thank you so much for this ask and for your patience while i worked on it! oh boy buckle up here we go: 

Courtship 

Courtship in Mandalorian culture is often a very short time period. Relationships move quickly from one stage to the next, because Mandalorians know better than many cultures that tomorrow is never promised. That being said, they don’t just pair off indiscriminately, and while physical appearance holds little to no weight in terms of attraction, there are other things that do certainly tip the scales. 

For someone like Din, brought up in an extremely strict covert with an adherence to The Way of the Mandalore that leaves very little room for interpretation, the most attractive trait a person can have is skill as a fighter. Knowing that the person they are pledging their soul to is capable of not only watching their six in battle, but protecting themselves and any children that might be in the family (foundlings or otherwise) is extremely important to Mandalorians. As such, many courtships begin while Mandos are in the final stages of training, when they begin to leave the covert to go on missions. (See Hokan’yc for Din’s story of young love at this stage in his life, and meet Aashi Zurn, the Mando who bested him in the sparring chamber and won his heart in the process.) 

Trust and loyalty are extremely important to Mandalorians when seeking a partner. Marriage in Mandalorian culture is meant to be forever- eternal- as Mandalorians believe that their souls live on after death, and remain connected to their loved ones until the end of time. Depending on the level of anonymity the individuals in question choose as a lifestyle (i.e. helmets on at all times or removed in front of others, names known or unknown), Mandalorians might show their trust in a partner by telling them something personal about themselves, something that they would normally keep a secret either out of pride or protection. This is usually returned in kind, a sort of exchanging of secrets that begins the binding of their two souls together that will continue throughout their relationship so that if/when they choose to marry, they are speaking the truth when they say that they know one another- in a way that no one else ever will. 

Some small ways that Mandalorians will show affection or appreciation for one another during their courtship and long into their relationship (because Mandalorians don’t just fall in love and settle, they keep falling deeper into it, letting it grow stronger) include: helping them clean their armor or weapons, tending to any aches and pains from old injuries- most Mandalorians make their own herbal salves that they use to soothe inflammation or to help heal scarring, and sharing from your own personal blend to provide comfort for your partner goes a long way. (This will come up in more than one way in Resol’nare, so look out for that in the future.) sharing or preparing a favorite meal, and in the event that they really want to emphasize their feelings, they will give a piece of their own armor to their partner, showing that they are ready to view them as a part of themselves, ready to protect them with their own life if necessary. 

The tradition of wearing the armor of their beloved comes from ancient times, when a Mandalorian fell in love with another who was a member of an enemy clan and had been captured by her people. To protect her lover from those who would kill them on sight just based on the sigil or coloring of their armor, she traded some of her plates with some of theirs so that they could escape unnoticed. Once two Mandalorians are wed, not even blood feuds between clans can come between them, so the exchanging of armor became seen as a sort of intention to marry for many Mandalorians.

Because Mandalorian culture takes root in various other cultures, some traditions from those other cultures cross over into theirs. For example, while no Mandalorian would ever make the mistake of asking a woman’s father for her hand in marriage and Mandalorian women are seen as complete equals and therefore able to make their own choices when it comes to their partners, some clans will still partake in common practices like introducing their intended to their family or announcing their engagement to their families and loved ones before making it known to others in the community. While jewlery is extremely uncommon in Mandalorian culture (unless it is functional, such as a beskar collar style necklace) engagement tokens like pendants engraved with the two names or rings either without stones, or rings with low profile stones inlaid into the bands- in some cases a gemstone will be embedded within the metal on the underside of the band, where it makes contact with the finger- are considered standard in most other cultures, so they are sometimes still exchanged but are in no way necessary to solidify an engagement or an intent to marry. 

Marriage  

The actual vows exchanged between Mandalorians are short and to the point, and there is no required ceremony, no officiant or witness needed, no record keeping of any sort, so the actual wedding is usually done just between the two individuals in private. Traditionally they are as follows: 

"Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde" which translates to "We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."

Once the vows are said, the marriage is official and the Riduurok bond is forged and must be acknowledged and respected by all Mandalorians.

Newlyweds will lift the helmet of their spouse once the vows have been sworn so that they may be sealed more intimately. In the case of Mandalorians who keep their faces hidden, this may be the first time that one or both of them sees the other without their helmet. In other cases, the removal of their riduur’s armor is merely symbolic. 

Although there are no formalities that need to happen in order to legitimize a marriage, there are of course some traditions and rituals that are completed which Mandalorians believe safeguard and strengthen their bond with their spouse. These include getting specific tattoos, and adding each other’s sigil to armor or weapons.  

Riduurok Tattoos 

Tattooing is an important part of Mandalorian culture. Regardless of their culture of origin, where they come from, or how they choose to interpret the Creed, it is rare to come across an adult Mandalorian with no tattoos. Even the New Mandalorians under Satine’s pacifist regime continued to carry on tattooing, though not as extensively or ritualistically as the more orthodox communities like the one that Din, Paz and The Armorer come from. For them it was done more for decorative purposes. Though their designs still pay homage to shapes and motifs that are meaningful to all Mandalorians, they also include more aesthetic design elements such as florals, vines or stars. 

Typically a Warrior will receive their first tattoo when they complete their training at thirteen; a thick black chevron shaped cuff on their left bicep. This symbolizes that they are part of the larger Tribe of Mandalorians outside of their own clans, and serves to remind them of the duty that they have to protect all Mandalorians. They have to look at it each time they don or remove their armor, and in the abhorrent event that they are stripped of their armor in defeat, the ink serves as symbolic beskar so that they remain protected in the afterlife. Bands and chevrons are added to symbolize achievements in battle or heroic action to protect their covert.(Din has five bands on his left arm, the latest one just below his elbow- his first when he completed mandatory training at 13, his second when he completed additional elite training, his third when helped relocate the covert to Nevarro- see Hokan’yc- his original covert was located on Dantooine- his fourth when he was injured protecting a group of foundlings, and the fifth after claiming the Darksaber. He would absolutely have more bands had he not spent so much time away from the covert. He absolutely will have more bands by the time Resol’nare ends.)  For Mandalorians who live a long life or are extremely skilled fighters, it is not uncommon for these bands to cover the entire arm from mid bicep to wrist. If more space is needed, another chain of bands is added to the left thigh ranging downwards. It is said that no Mandalorian has ever completely covered their entire left side, simply because in a war-based culture, life expectancy is cut short. 

Mythosaur skulls, clan signets, troop affiliations and words or short phrases in Mando’a are also typical designs that Mandalorians may choose to have done. The Mythosaur is usually tattooed on the back while the right bicep is where Mandalorians will honor their families in their chosen way. Usually it is by adding their clan signet, names of loved ones or parents, or even symbols or patterns that are significant to their culture of origin. ( Navina has a tattoo on her right arm to pay tribute to her mother’s- who was a foundling- culture. It will be revealed in an upcoming chapter so that is all that I can say about that! Din also has the Mythosaur skull inside of a triangle on the right side of his chest, and his Mudhorn signet on his right shoulder.)

Riduurok tattoos are placed on the left side or center of the chest, over the individual’s heart, and are done as soon as possible after marriage vows are sworn. Taking the shape of the Kar'ta Beskar, Mandalorians personalize them by adding their spouse’s name in Mando’a in the empty space in the middle of the design. Like the arm bands, these are also meant to symbolize armor of sorts. They represent the way that married couples remain connected no matter if they are together or apart; that they are one, an integral part of the other, even in death. They also signify the strength gained through marriage, as well as the protection a Mandalorian vows to provide for their partner. Love is seen as something that fortifies, never weakens, and that is represented in this tattoo as well. 

(Terrible graphic made with love by me)

This particular tattoo comes directly from a Mandalorian myth predating modern record keeping. Legend has it that long ago, a Mandalorian warrior returned home from battle, eager to see his riduur after so much time away. When he arrived, however, he found only her lifeless form, the soul of the one he had tied himself to no longer inhabiting the flesh and bone of her body. She had been slain, taken from him and from their life together, and it opened in him a new capacity for rage, something far more fierce than fire. It is said that in the moment that the Mandalorian warrior saw what had happened in his absence, vengeance itself was unleashed into existence. 

The warrior, fueled by this new urge, this extreme desire to avenge the death of his wife, tracked down the marauders who were responsible for her death and killed them one by one. The last of them, as he watched the Mandalorian take his accomplices’ lives, did not beg or grovel. He could see that it would do no good. Instead, he confessed that he did not think that Mandalorians had the capacity to love so deeply as to inspire such retaliation, that he did not think Mandalorians were open to things that could make them weak, things like love. 

“Only fools like you would think that love makes one weak.” he spat at the man. “True love is power, it is strength- it is the joining of two into one and nothing, not even death can diminish it. But you? Death will erase your soul and before long you will be forgotten.” 

The Mandalorian warrior killed the final marauder then, and as he did the pure rage that he felt upon discovering the death of his riduur quieted. Instead, he felt her presence, as though she were there to wrap her arms around him. He felt her strength enter his heart, and though he would mourn her loss immensely, he knew that she would never truly be gone, that he would always carry her and that they would reunite when his journey came to an end. As a tribute to his riduur and what she would always mean to him, the warrior etched her name over his heart in ink, encasing it in the oblong diamond shape of the Kar'ta Beskar, symbolizing that she is the source of his strength, a kind of armor that protected him from facing eternity alone. From then on, Mandalorians added the Riduurok Tattoo into their marriage rituals.   

Clan Sigils 

In the case that both Mandalorians have already been assigned sigils, or if they have sigils that they inherited from their own clans, they will either combine both symbols into one new one, or they will add their spouse’s sigil right beside their own on their armor and/or weapons. (In Resol’nare, Navina’s beskar kal that she inherited from her father- thanks of course to Firo- displayed the sigils of both of her parents, as well as her own name)  

If only one of the two can claim a sigil as their own distinct mark, they will extend it to their spouse as they extend every part of themselves through marriage, and if neither one has been assigned a sigil, they will both take the sigil of the first one who is assigned one.  

It is completely up to the individuals regarding whether or not they will choose to take their spouse’s name- the important thing is that they are under the same sign, as their sigils are yet another bond that they carry into the afterlife that helps them reunite once both have rejoined the Manda. 

.

.

.

THANK YOU AGAIN TO @darkmist111​ for this request. I had a lot of fun thinking about and writing this, and it was a great way for me to finally dive back into the world of Resol’nare. :) 

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @valkblue @malionnes @gollyderek @fific7 @becs-bunker @commanderlola @greatcircle79 @cannedsoupsucks​ @dihra-vesa​ @marauderskeeper​ @disgruntledspacedad​

[pokeexehasstoppedworking]

Love Doesn’t Do Encores Ch8 Battle Gym Leader Milo

(I have read somewhere sheep love dandelions so Im applying that fact to wooloos. I would also like to note that all side quests shall also be considered a part of the story.)

It would be nice to wake up without pain in your neck, sides, or back wouldn't it? That's what you wished you could do as you were shaken yet again the very next morning by someone. The four of you had decided to set up camp in the nearby camping grounds near the stadium since the day was starting to come too a close and you still weren't used to not sleeping on anything between you and the ground besides the thin floor of the tent and had fallen asleep feeling the hard ground beneath you and it must've taken you at least a good three hours before you had fallen asleep that night. Your sobble softly snoring sleeping on your head. And this morning was just like the rest when you woke up with a slight pain in your neck and back, popping them as you stretched. And with what happened yesterday you must've looked a sight-

"You look like you haven't slept in a month." Yep. It was Gloria decked out in her white gym uniform again ready to take on the day and battle ....or so it seemed.

You yawned and rubbed at your neck. Giving a groan as you already felt your sobble climbing on your back to reach it favorite riding spot and you gave him a look when he flopped half of himself over your shoulder. You were starting to see a pattern with this little guy liking to hitch a ride instead of walking himself.....Hm. Well if he was gonna stick with you for a while maybe you should give him a name? But right now you were more concerned with how much you were yawning. "Haha. I wonder why."

"Is she up?" Victor's head appeared in the opening of the tent next to his twin's and rose a brow at you blinking at the sunlight. "Oh...Wow you weren't wrong? Real case of bed head there, Y/n."

"Glad to know I can scare off Prince Charming," you sarcastically stated, "Although I wasn't expecting any kissing from any royalty anyhow."

Gloria snorted and Victor quickly held up his hands. "WHA- I-I didn't mean to be rude I swear it's just-"

"Ah. It's fine." You cut him off moving to grab your lumpy backpack/pillow at this point and made to crawl out of the tent. "Im always like this in the morning anyways. All I need is a quick hair brush and Im fine. ...What time is it?"

"Pretty early in the morning. We can all head on over to the stadium if you want but we'll still have to wait. Milo's still battling someone at the moment."

It must've been one of the trainers from before you guessed as you completely crawled out reaching up to straighten your hair out in an attempt to look presentable from a night of little sleep. "I guess he's still busy today. Kinda makes me wanna rethink my whole business liscence schtick if this means I'm gonna run a business like that."

"Business stick?"

"...Nevermind. Help me put away the tents then we can head on over to the gym ok?"

The four of you scrambled to put the tents away as you fumbled to get yourself looking half way decent. You doubted anyone would pay too much attention to you being only one random person sitting in the crowd of possibly hundreds of more people...That reminds you. You looked over your shoulder at Gloria who was currently in a pretty deep conversation with her twin whil Hop (tried to-) wrestle the tent down into it's more compact form. Victor mentioned she had stage fright. Not as bad as before stage fright, but still stage fright. He mentioned she had gotten A lot better but it seemed there was still some left since you could still remember her stiff smile and the way Hop had assurringly held his friend's hand out on the field there, which was real sweet of him. You could definately tell he was related to Leon. But it won't be the same here. It's not like you or anyone else would be there to encourage her while on field. The best any of you could do was cheer her on from the stage. Guess the two of you would have to roll with the punches as they were about to hit you. It didn't take too long to pack everything away, and you had helped Hop with his struggling battle to put the tent away. As soon as it was tightly packed away and placed onto Hop's back, you turned ready to journey to the stadium-

"Hey." Gloria's voice stopped you mid step as she pointed back up the way from the stadium. "Before we head on out I need to buy me some dandelions."

You gave her a look like she was crazy. "Dandelions? What would you buy dandelions right now for?"

"Milo's still busy right? Then we have time to get some before we go!"

You had zero idea what in the world Gloria would want with dandelions especially before her first gym battle, but you agreed since it meant you'd have some more time to straighten your hair out. So you agreed and she proceeded to buy dandelions at the florist shope. Stuffing them into her white uniform's pants pocket. She had bought a good amount and you wondered what in the world they were for. A gift for Milo perhaps? By the time the four of you made it back down to the GIGANTIC stadium. Her brother turning to her as you three stopped by to part ways. From here you could hear the cheering from the hundreds of people within and briefly wondered for a moment exactly where all these people came from. Certainly not this small town unless they traveled to see the matches. Which seemed more likely.

"Don't forget to show them your League Card to get in," Victor reminded her.

"I know."

"And stay calm."

"I know."

"Have a clear head and think things through alright."

"I KNOW!! Vic I'll be fine! You guys should get seats and watch me kick some butt!"

You heard him groan and shake his head. "Just....Don't forget what we talked about earlier alright?"

She nodded her head before giving him a smile and turned on her heel to trot on over to the front doors, which was guarded by more of those security people from the first stadium. Hop caught your attention when he nodded his head towards the stadium and you agreed following him as he turned to walk towards around the far side of the stadium with Victor hurrying to following behind. The three of you walked around until you came to two large double doors with stairs leading up and up into the stadium and you followed them screams and cheers becoming more and more promanant until you exited through the top and found yourselves high up and in side the stands....Huh. There wasn't as many people as you thought there would be. There was still a lot of people filling the seats around you but there was considerably less than at he opening Ceremony. There was still a good chunk of empty seats scattered about even with the large crowds. Surrounding the field was hundreds of seats with spectators cheering loudly and chattering likely excited for the next battle with Milo but said Gym Leader was no where to be seen on the field. Your guess was that he was taking a small break before the next battle to be had. You still followed behind them as they walked down the steps(thank GOODNESS that it wasn't as loud as the other stadium. You didn't think you could take that loud of a racket again.) and the lot of you were able to be seated a lot closer to the field this time thanks to the variety of open seats. As the three of you sat down the cheers of the crowd soon turned into loud but managable to your ears murmurs. Your sobble had taken to pushing itself up half on your head to look around interested but you reached up to take him into your lap instead. Neck still stiff from your awkward sleeping position.

It was then you noticed there was no one on the grassy fields below. "Hey. Where is everyone?"

"Gloria must be going through the challenge right now," Victor said it was easier to talk to him now than at the Opening Ceremony. "It took Hop about twenty five minutes to make it through so we'll have to wait and see what happens."

"It wasn't too hard," Hop commented crossing his arms, "In Postwick it's practically a need to know skill how to herd wooloo. A right of passage if you will. That challenge was practically begging me to solve it!"

That's right. Hop and the twins were born and raised amongst these pokemon. This should be fairly easy for them you thought. Or more likely hoped.

"Is this being broadcasted on TV as well?"

"No. Only the Entrance Ceremony and the Champion Matches at the end of the year will be. All the battles at the stadiums are recorded though, but they're uploaded to the Gym Challenge League's official Poketube website. So Mom would still be able to watch us if she wanted too. It helps with the pacing of TV channels and networks and makes it more convienet for anyone watching."

Ah. That makes sense. Guess you just had to wai- ....You blinked and squinted your eyes towards the field and pointed. "Hey. Who's that?"

Both boys looked towards the stadium's giant TV and Hop answered. "Oh. That's Dan. He's the gym's referee here, but he doesn't usually step out on field unless the battle's about to begin."

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! THE BATTLE BETWEEN GYM LEADER MILO AND GYM CHALLENGER GLORIA SHALL BEGIN!!"

All three of you looked rather surprised at what was just said by the blonde man before Hop said what the three of you were thinking. "WHAT?! Already?! How could she have finished the challenge that fast!? It's barely been ten minutes."

You weren't sure yourself but were distracted by the sudden amount of cheers from the crowd as two more figures stepped onto the field. From the far left came Milo, the same man who worriedly apologised for letting his wooloo knock you over and from the right came Gloria..but she looked a bit different. Unlike last time, instead of stiff her movements were fast, jogging her way to the middle keeping her eyes slightly downward as the cameras caught her image and placed them on the screen for everyone to see. The two of them met somewhere in the middle of the field by Dan and although you could see their lips moving as they exchanged a few words you couldn't hear anything. You had guessed you wouldn't unless they had microphones to speak into. Before long the two bowed to each other before turning on their heels and walking away from one another. The flash of Victor's camera making you blink as he proceeded to capture his sister's first real battle of the league. Hop watching with a set determined face. The referee taking a few steps back himself, most likely not wanting to get caught in the crossfires.

"Here we go."

In one fluid motion with a cheer from the crowd, Milo threw a ball out and in a flash of light out came a gossifluer. Gloria mimicked the motion with her own pokeball and to your light surprise it wasn't a scorbunny. It was a corvisquire. The crow bird like pokemon gave a loud caw as it fluttered there awaiting orders. You didn't remember her catching that pokemon. Must've been one of the new ones she managed to capture back before you left Motostoke.

"BATTLE BEGIN!!"

Immediately Milo pointed and his lips moved in yelling in order. Immediately his gossifluer responded by a wind blowing around itself and suddenly leaves danced around it it a tiny tornado before being flung forward towards the bird pokemon. Razor Leaf move perhaps? Gloria's small form (or big form on the giant tv depending on which one you were watching) pointed back and barked something and like a blurred shadow the bird thing shot forward, dodging the leaves thrown at it, and like a seagal plucking a fish from the sea, the tiny gossifluer was quickly snatched up into the claws of the crow thing. You could only watch in worry for the poor thing as the corvisquire flew up, up, up until it would've been considered out of bounds of the gym. Before plummeting like a rock down below. THEY'RE GONNA crash!! Was the first thing in your mind as they went and just at the right moment the pokemon snapped it's wings back up and easily managed to fly away unhurt. A sigh of relief escaped you. Thank goodness....Only...it no longer had the gossifluer in it's claws. Your hold on your sobble increased making it give you a confused chirp, as your f/c eyes instantly went to the part of the field it would've crashed into. Only to catch the part glimpse of a light going back into the pokeball in Milo's hand. That could've only meant that Gloria managed to one hit K.O. the poor pokemon. That didn't sound right, unless the corvisquire she caught was pretty strong or-...Oh no. It couldn't be that- No time to wonder on that now as Milo sent out another pokemon who looked like a walking puffy dandelion. Eldegoss if you remembered right. While Gloria kept her corvisquire....before returning it. Guess she was changing it after all.

"ALL RIGHT!! DYNAMAX TIME!!"

You didn't have time to ask Hop what he meant. A bright red glow oozed out of the band Gloria wore upon her arm as she held her pokeball, it quickly was surrounded by the glowing energy before becoming bigger in her hands. She stumbled a bit seeming to have trouble with the added weight where you for sure thought she'd fall, before uprighting her self and turning around. With her teeth grit, Gloria raised the gigantic red pokeball above her head and tossed it. Your eyes followed it as it sored as high and far as she could- CRAP!! Your hands came up as an explosion of red appeared out of no where like multiply giant fireworks, followed by a whoosh of wind strong enough to push your body back and an UNGODLY giant cry in such high volume you could've sworn your ear drums could burst. There was a very loud chirp of panic and your eyes opened in a panic down to your shirt just as your sobble dove under it to escape the now......FREAKING. GIANT. BIRD THING!!! THAT THING WAS MASSIVE AS YOU STARED AT IT FLYING!! Thank god the stadium was built big enough for that thing to flap it's wings!! Speaking of which every flap sent a gust of wind flying from it, making Victor have to hold hit hat with one hand as he continued taking photos! Good gosh! No wonder your sobble was shaking against you! That'd thing give would give you nightmares too! A red circle of dynama clouds hung over the Corvisquire and it's black body now had a red shine to it. Looks as if Milo had decided to do it as well, because he did the same process of returning his own pokemon and adding the same red energy from his dynamax band. Giving the precious red pokeball a few pats with a smile before turning around and with one arm chucked it into the air behind him. Once again you had to shield your eyes from the bright explosion of red as the giant eldegoss made it's appearance with a slam down on the field that disleveled the ground and shook the stadium from under you. In an instant Gloria pointed towards the dynamaxed grass pokemon and must've given some kind of order you couldn't hear. Because it was at that very moment what you could only describe as a giant whirlwind of a tornado whipped from the corvisquire and straight for the eldegoss in a dead hit. That's right. Dynamaxing was a cool thing, but neither pokemon could dodge each other's attacks they were too big. Dynamaxing was a test of brute will to see how much you could hold out. And you were pretty sure Gloria had the upper hand but not because you thought she was super strong. The high winds made the three of you clutch your seats as it hit the eldegoss head on. If your hair wasnt a mess before it was now. Once the winds (other than the powerful breezes from the bird's wings) died down, you nearly choked seeing Gloria's form on her hands and knees clutching the grass to not be blown from the dirt. HOW WAS MILO STILL STANDING!? With a shriek of it's own the eldegoss leaned it's large head forward and you were surprised when three large green seeds fired off from it's head and landed with giant thuds under the bird's feet. Thank goodness Gloria was already ducking. What sprouted forth was GIGANTIC green mushrooms and grass surrounding it, then it exploded in a giant flash of green light. Giant glowing petals made of energy shooting everywhere before disintergrating into thin air. Green waves of energy washing over the crowds as the bird gave off a giant eagle cry of it's own but still flying in tack. ...That was one tough chicken!

"Eldegoss's Dynamax Move!! Awesome isn't it!?"

You couldn't answer. Another giant eagle cry pierced the air making your ear hurt and two black jet streams poured from it's wings. You watched in horror and shock as the dark jetstreams encircled the poor grass pokemon. Encasing it with a dome of black before exploding in a blast of black. The eldegoss crying out in pain as is tilted towards the ground- OMG! That thing was gonna crush Milo!! The eldegoss went out in an explosion that sent dirt clouds flying up everywhere as it timbered glowing brightly through the dust clouds as it magically shrank down winthin it's own mess. You all watched with baited breath as the clouds spread out and covered the famous gym leader as well, Gloria's bird pokemon glowing a bright reddish color before beginning to shrink down until it was back to it's normal size. It's normal size being about as big as Gloria herself (which was still pretty big but when again you remembered how big corviknight are supposed to get), and perched back onto the ground right next to it's trainer who was staring from her kneeled position as the dust literally settled. At least the giant gusts of wind weren't pushing you against the seats anymore. Maybe you should suggest to Leon to install seat belts on these stands. As the dust finally settled with great relief you saw Milo, unhurt and waving his big sunhat to shoo the dust away. Behind him was a giant crater in the ground and disheveled land. All that was left behind from the battle that had taken place.

"THE BATTLE IS OVER!! VICTORY GOES TO GYM CHALLENGER GLORIA!!"

The absolute UPROAR of the crowd's cheers along with Hop standing up to shout his own cheers to his rival/friend and another flash from Victor's camera signaled him capturing the shocked look on his sister's face just standing there looking around herself....Before you saw the brightest smile Gloria's ever given on her face and hugged her corvisquire making the poor pokemon wobble on it's feet as Milo placed the hat back on his head. The gym leader took a moment to look behind him at the disheveled field and big crater in the ground before looking back to the teenager and approuching her. Gloria seemed to notice because she stopped hugging her pokemon to face Milo with wide eyes as he approuched her. The two exchanged words for a moment before Milo held out his hand in a fist with a smile. Wide eyed she took a moment to stare at it before slowly holding out her own hands and he dropped something into the palm of her hands. Wide eyed and staring straight at it, it only took her a few moment for her to hop about excitedly and hold up the small thing in her hands. The cameras zoomed in enough for you to see that she was holding the same badge Hop had showed you the other day on the TV. She did it!? Her first badge! One more step on your way home! ...At Least you hoped. In the end the two of them shook hands and soon after excited the field as the three of you exited the stands, you taking your sobble and putting him on your shoulder again. The poor shaking pokemon calming quickly noticing there wasn't anymore giant pokemon. Hm. You might have to put him in your backpack from now on if he was gonna react all scared and hide like this. By the time the three of you excited the stands Gloria was already waiting outside the doors she went in. Smiling and bounding over towards you waving the badge around in her hand.

"LOOK AT THIS!!," she yelled excitedly shoving the badge in your faces the bronze-gold shining in the sunlight. "On my first try too! I told you I could do it!"

"You must've took my advice then."

You gave Victor a curious look. "Advice?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We used to play VR battles when we were younger as practice since we didn't have any pokemon. I suggested she pretended it was like the game and try her best."

Oh. Well that worked out pretty well for her anyways. Hopefully it'll work for the next battle as well, but you were a bit concerned that Gloria(and Hop-) only won because Milo and his pokemon was overwhelmed and tired by the onslot of trainers coming so early. But you were reluctant to say so. Not only because you didn't want to disturb the progress of the game's story more than you might have already did just by being here, and because you didn't want to hurt either of their feelings. Weighing your options, you decided that not mentioning it was the better choice for now.

"Congrats! I knew you could do it!," you complimented as she smiled wider.

"Thanks! I guess Hop and I must be on the same battling skill level then!"

"HECK YEAH! Wouldn't expect anything less from the greatest trainers to come out of Postwick!" You chuckled at him. "Oh by the way. What'd you do with all those dandelions you bought? Did you give 'em to Milo or something?"

A sly smile spread across her face. "Nope! I'm surprised you didn't remember."

He rose a brow. "Remember what?"

"Expert on wooloo huh?" She shook her head. "Wooloo love eating dandelions! That's why you barely find any of those flowers where wooloo graze or on farms in general. The objective was to get the wooloo to knock over the hay bails right? What better way than to get them to chase after you with their favorite food?"

Wow. That was actually a really smart idea you had to admit. Growing up in a farming community must really pay off. Hop's jaw practically fell open with this new revolution and his hands hands came up to grip his head. "AW MAN!! Why didn't I think of that!? I got my own wooloo for crying out loud!"

"Hey. It's ok. You're still smarter than me when it comes to science and research. You'd be a pretty good scientist too!"

"Science? Really?"

Hop nodded with a sigh. "Yeah. But it's more of a hobby, I just find learning stuff interesting y'know. But my main goal is to become the next Galar Champion!!"

"Not if I beat you to it!"

"Bring it on, Glory!

"Speaking of becoming champion," you interrupted the two, "Have you guys figured out which person you're gonna battle next?"

Both of them paused before looking at each other and Hop shrugged. "Well, there's really no particular order you have to have to battle in so I can pick anyone I want to battle next. It really doesn't matter as long as you get the eight badges for your Badge Circle...." She looked at you. "But Mr. Milo suggested I should go battle Nessa instead. He said she might be a good challenge for me."

"Nessa? Isn't she that model lady you showed me before?" She nodded.

"No way! That's where we were headed too!" Hop smiled. "This is a great chance to do a bit of traveling together!"

"Hey that sounds like a great idea! But first I want to check out this Turrfield treasure."

You all looked at her confused. "Turrfield treasure?"

She nodded. "I heard from a kid that there's supposed to be some kind 'o treasure around here. I think I figured out the riddle since then and I wanna go check it out before we leave."

"What kind of riddle?"

She made a thinking face. "Uh...Hang on a sec. What did she say how'd it go again? Some treasure lies in Turffield and the way to find it is with the standing stones and a riddle."

"Standing stones?"

"She means the ruins around Turffield," Victor answered you seeing the confusion on your face. "Some people call them 'Standing Stones' since most of them stand upright with their strange carvings."

"Seek the standing stones with Grass before the other ones," Gloria recited, "Use well that strength and find then the strength of it's strength in the end. Dally not if you've a mind to find what time has left behind...I don't know what it means tho."

"I do! It's about Pokemon types duh."

The three of you looked at Hop. "How did you solve that mystery?"

His answer was to point upwards towards the small florist and gift shop. "You remember the gift shop up there we were in?" You nodded confused. "They have this brochure in there with info on the Geoglyph and Standing Stones. I got curious after what Glory said about the thing and had a lil peek. It turns out one of the older standing stones has symbols that spell the word 'Grass' on it. And then there's two other's with 'Water' and 'Fire' cut into 'em too. It's like the three pokemon types. Grass types are usually stronger than water types but water types are usually stronger than fire types. And Fire Types are usually stronger than Grass types. It's a whole cycle of advantage type strengths."

You all were completely floored with such a logical and smart answer to come out of the teen but Gloria seemed the most impressed when she suddenly grabbed onto his hands making the poor boy freeze. "NO! WAY!! Oh my eevee! That makes so much sense! Hop you're a genius!!"

....He blinked a pink hue coming to his cheeks. "I-...I-I am?"

"YES!," she insisted eyes wide, "Who else would've been smart enough to figure out that riddle in one day!? And make the connection with pokemon advantages!" She gave him a tug and he stumbled a bit as she pulled his hands. "C'mon! We gotta go check 'em out! You know where they are right?"

"Wha- GLORIA!! What about our travel plans!?," Victor shouted after her gesturing towards a road that if you looked, was the way out of town.

She waved him off tugging Hop quickly down a different path back towards the Geoglyph. "It's just a quick look see! We'll meet you guys at the Pokemon Nusery on Route Five!!"

"GLORIA WAIT!!.....UGH!!" Victor facepalmed himself with a groan as he stood there and you blinked. "This is why I'm glad she has a traveling buddy." He looked back up at their disappearing forms with a scowl. "She gets one idea in her head there's nothing stopping her from getting it! Then she just rushes off into it without a second thought."

"Then I take it she didn't tell you about tresspassing on the Chairman's mine shafts."

"She did WHAT?!"

"Uh...Nevermind," you deflected pointing down the road. "Should we uh...Go wait for them?" In the end Victor huffed, shook his head, and turned on his heel to begin walking down the road. So you took that as a yes and made to follow him. "So....Where's the way to this Nessa person?"

Victor took a minute to respond with a sigh. "I'm not too sure. I know it's all the way on the other side of Galar in a coastal town called Hulbary. So it's safe to say it'll take some time if they insists on battling her gym next. Let me check my map." You watched and walked beside him patiently as Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Turning on to where the screen lit up and then spoke. "Hey Rotom. How long would it take to travel from the town of Turffield to the town of Halbury?"

Now you know you shouldn't have been surprised considering all phones had a rotom pokemon in it acting as this world's version of 'Hey Google' but you still blinked at the almost robotic voice answering him back. "ZZZZT. Follow on Route 5 to your destination. By Flying Taxi it would take approximately a week. By foot near a month."

"A WHAT!?"

He gave you a look. "Flying is a lot faster than walking, and Halbury's all the way across Galar from here. Of course it would take that long to travel by foot." Oh...right. Not a game. R.I.P your poor feet and the many night of awkward sleeping positions to come. He looked back to his phone messing with something on the screen a few times. "...According to this, Route Five starts once we pass the Pokemon Center and cross Turrfield Bridge. From there it's a straight course right across country to the east coast. It might take a while but it's the most convenient one for all of us."

"Isn't there a train or those taxi things?" Even if you REALY didn't want to try using those birdbrain powered taxi's you didn't like the sound of you walking across country for about a month either.

"Even if we got a taxi you heard Rotom. It'd take like a whole week of flying. And the corviknights need time to rest and eat and sleep too. They're living things just like us. Even cars, trains, and planes need to stop and need time to tune up and refill on gas don't they? And besides there's no train stations or Flying Stations set up in Turffield. If you want a train you'd have to travel back to Motostoke which is half a week, or you'd have to call a taxi from there to pick you up. Besides Gloria has a whole year to complete this task. One month out of eleven more isn't going to hurt anyone."

Except your feet and sleeping abilities but you couldn't argue. He was right. You traveled for four days and waited five for Gloria to get her first badge. You could do it again but longer. As the two of you walked down the road, the town began to fade away a bit behind you as you two traveled down the road. You both were just crossing over a small hill when you noticed a small cabin like building with a sign above his door reading: Turffield Pokemon Nursery. That must've been it! It looked as cozy as it did cute. And a little bit a ways from it was a bridge. That must've been the Turffield Bridge Victor spoke of earlier. Maybe you two should wait for the other two inside? It was pretty sunny out and you've been in the sunlight for a while. As you two walked towards the building, some movement near the bridge caught your eye and your eyes turned towards said movement. And your vision was filled with blurs of black and red and your hearing clogged with yelling. Your hand instinctively coming out to grab Victor's shoulder. The teen stopped from the tug on his shoulder a few yards away from the Pokemon Nursery before giving you a confused look as you stared. He followed your gaze just as what was happening finally registered in your head. It was those goons again! The weird ones that looked like they just stepped out of some kind of rock concert! The same ones from the hotel back in Motostoke! Why were they here tho? Two men who looked about your height a bit taller, were standing there on the bridge just as it connected with the road and backed against a part of the bridge was another man who looked all dressed up to be a doctor. Blue jumpsuit and a mask over half his face as he held up his hands to the men. Now yelling could be heard.

"OI! Just hand over that bike already!," One of them shouted pushing the smaller man's shoulder once, "We need it to cross this long bridge!"

"N-N-No!" The doctor man stammered out backing further against the wall of the bridge. "I-I bought this with my own hard earned money f-f-fair and square! What would two blokes like you even do with it!?"

"We're gonna use that bike ta chase around Gym Challengers! It'll be a scream!," the other said before cackling out with laughter.

"WHAT!? N-NO WAY!! I-Im not letting you two meatheads use my bike to chase around innocent children!"

"...Victor?"

"Yeah I see it." He peered around you brow raised looking at the scene before you two. ''Who the heck are those guys?"

You didn't answer, just stared as the two brutes jabbed the man again demanding his bike (or lack there of as you couldn't see one-) be handed over to them. How mean! But what really caught your attention was mentioning chasing around gym challengers. Now you couldn't remember if anything like this had happened in game but chasing around innocent kids for whatever reason just didn't settle right on your gut. There was two kids with you that were challengers and one could easily mistake Victor for one if you weren't careful.

"....You stay here." To reiterate your point you pulled Victor to the side of the road and firmly planted him there. He blinked and opened his mouth- !? He blinked again once you shoved your backpack into his arms and began walking. Your sobble giving a small chirp of surprise with the sudden movements. "Hold this."

"Wha- H-HEY! Y/N! What're ya doin'!?"

"C'mon old man! Give us the darn bike and we'll leave ya alone! You can get another one!"

The man scowled up at them. "T-Then why dont the two of you BUY one!?"

"Money's tight man! Just give it to us!"

"HEY UGLY!!" Dust sprayed everywhere or at least over one of them. As the three men turned to the sound of a woman's voice only for one of the weird rockstar wannabes to receive a splat of dirt picked up from the road to hit him square in the face and have the rest of it cover his front body. The man sputter/screamed out and hands immediately went to wipe at his face. Luckily none got in his eyes so no pain, but that didn't stop the annoyance. Especially since when he looked back up there was a girl standing there hands on her hips and sobble half hiding behind her head as she point. You gave them the angriest scowl you could muster. "You two KISS lookin' airheads leave that poor man alone! He already said no so beat it before I make you!!"

Behind you Victor's jaw dropped and the two goons seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment. Looking between the two of them confused before scowling and looking back to you. Crap. These two were both at least a good foot or two taller than you were. You hadn't really thought ahead but no turning back now.

"Oi! Girly, why don't ya mind your own business?"

"Yeah! This doesn't concern you!" They said leaning over you. Unknownt to anyone your sobble was starting to get a bit teary eyed at the two above him.

"It IS my concern if you're going around hassling innocent people! What'd the guy do to you two?! Back off and leave him alone before I call Officer Jenny on your arses!" Really you didn't know if this region had an Officer Jenny, but it seemed to work as their scowled wavered a bit.

"Whatcha gonna have us arrested for!? We haven't done any crimes yet!"

"Yeah yet! And what about you two planning on scaring everyone you see?"

"Last chance Girly!" One poked your shoulder as if to intimidate you. "Mind your own busines-"

"WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

The three of you were interrupted by a loud almost baby like wail as you immediately cringed from it being from directly next to your head. You hissed hands coming to cover your eyes in a panic feeling tears start to sting from them. Was the pain of the yelling so loud you started crying?! If you could've seen past your furious wiping and tears you would've noticed the other men starting to cry as well, face paint starting to run down their faces.

"AAA!! M-Man what's goin' on!?", one shouted to his companion.

"I-...I D-DONT KNOW!! LET'S JUST GET OUT OF HERE OK!?"

They fled. Bumping into you and knocking you over in the process. You yelped as you fell to your butt on the dirt road and your sobble let out a choked hiccup as it was jostled from your head and onto the grassy ground in the men's haste to escape. Well...the baby cry was gone at least, but there was still a few hiccups from behind you as you hissed and used your sleeve to furiously wipe at your stinging eyes. WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!?

"OMG! Y/N! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"

"Here young lady. Turn your head up." You blinked crying to see past the stinging of your tear soaked eyes and someone gently grabbed your jaw. A Second later a wet cloth was wiping at your eyes. Almost instant relief came from your sore red eyes as someone wiped at them. "There we go. Lucky for you I always have a Sobble Tear Cloth handy on me due to how sensitive the little ones can be." Once you got enough clear vision you could see the faces of Victor and the doctor man who were both kneeled next to your fallen body. "There now. How do you feel?"

".....Peachy,'' you mumbled shaking your head from his grip. "What was that?"

"Your sobble crying. When sobbles cry it's like someone chops a hundred onions near you. It's a defense mechanism that's highly affective as you can see. The effects take a while to wear off but luckily for you I happen to be an expert on these kids of things." Grabbing your arm the man carefully helped you on your feet and smiled behind the mask. "Thank you kindly for the help. But you didn't have to, Im sure they would've left sooner or later."

You waved a hand sniffing as said sobble began to immediately start climbing up your pants leg again. Combined with your wooloo bowling trip, you must've really looked a sight. "It's fine. Can't be worse than being knocked over by a wooloo. Are you alright, Mister?"

He nodded. "Yes. Thanks to you. Here. Let's get you to the Nursery. There's some eye drops in my office that might help you further. I work there as one of the nurses with the caretaker and her assistant."

You nodded and with the urge to wipe at your eyes the Docter and Victor helped you stumble walked your way towards the Nursery, your sobble continuing to climb up your body with little difficulty as it reached your shoulder. You felt it touch your cheek and give a small chirp but at the moment you paid it no mind trying not to fall over.

"Hey, Vick-...Oh wow. What happened? Was Y/n crying or something?"

Oh great. Well at least they finally showed up.

"Ill tell you later. Opening the door over there and let's get her inside."

The next thing you knew you were inside a cozy looking house and was given eye drops. It took a few minutes for you to go back to normal and the redness around your eyes to subside. But by the time it did you were feeling way better and sitting on a green couch. One hand petting your sobble who happily accepted the affection with a smile. Hop and Gloria had returned from their small search a little bit after you had managed to chase those men off, and they happily explained their trip from standing stone to standing stone...But unfortunately didn't find anything other than an old ten dollar bill that someone most likely accidentally dropped while visiting them. And Victor got to scold you about just walking up to strangers like that. Weren't you the grown up here? Glad to know everyone was ok tho. The elderly lady at the center had offered the four of you tea as thanks for helping to rescue their nurse and Gloria excused herself to check out the Center's Free Pokeboxes in their own rotomi stations. When you asked about it Hop was happy to explain.

"Oh. Free Pokeboxes are basically boxes from people's rotomi boxes. Usually Nurseries and Centers get a whole lot of them if a pokemon's trainer passes away, or if they were donated or abandoned to the system. From there they're sorta put up for adoption or released back into the wild if no one claims them within a year or so.....Y'know I think Ill take a look too. I might just find a neat new partner." He got up to go join Gloria currently flipping through options on the rotomi leaving you with Victor sitting on the couch.

You sighed. "Man. Some day it's been huh? A riddle solved. A gym battle won. And now a nurse was saved."

"All thanks to you. But please maybe don't be so reckless next time. I was afraid something bad might've happened to you by what those brutes yelled running off."

"Oh? What'd they say?"

He hummed. "Um....I think....'You're too strong!" He tried to repeat in a failed attempt at a deep man voice. "If you stay in the Gym Challenge you're gonna cause problems for our lady! You haven't seen the last of us! We're gonna make sure you stay out of our lady's way!'..Or something like that."

Well that perked your interest. You stared at him. "Our lady?...Does that mean someone ordered them to go after Gym Challengers?"

He hummed a more worried look coming over him. "Could be. But I wouldn't know who or why. Who'd want to go after the Gym Challengers?"

That was a very good question. You wracked your brain for a moment. Was there any person in the game with a pack of goons? And was there any lady out to stop the gym challengers? Your memory turned up nothing as you sighed and sunk back into your seat on the couch as you did. Those goons were at the hotel and now here as well. That couldn't just be a coincidence could it? No...You had a feeling there was something linking those guys to whatever's about to happen to you. Too bad you didn't know. As you both silently sat there, another person walked in through the door and up to the counter but you paid them no mind even as Gloria approuched them.

Eventually you sighed. "I wouldn't know either it seems, but just in case I think we should all be keeping a really close eye out for anymore of those guys and let Leon know the first chance we get. As the saying goes better be safe than sorry."

"Couldn't agree more. Especially since this is concerning my friend and sister."

"What's concerning us?"

Oh that was Hop. You turned. "We wanted to tell you about-" You blinked coming face to face with a grumpy purple face in the arms of Gloria as she held the tiny pokemon clinging to her like a baby. ...You pointed. "Where did you get that?"

"My Toxel? The lady that just came in wanted to drop it off. Somethin' bout hatching it and not being the pokemon she wanted or some speel. I couldn't just let a cutie like this go into adoption or tossed out in the cruel wild after just being hatched." She held it up to her face as she smiled. "Look at how cute you are! Who'd wouldn't want acutie pie like you?" The baby toxel in her arms responded by reaching an arm out and grabbing her nose. Aw! Cute.

You shook you head with a smile before standing. Lifting an arm up with your sobble clinging to it to allow it to freely crawl back onto your shoulder before you stood up slinging your pack over your shoulders. "C'mon. I'll tell you as we walk. The sooner we start the sooner we can reach Halbury and our next step of this little adventure."

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

Teaser for “Hop, Skip, and a Jump”

A Bellamione fic that explores what happens when the Department of Mysteries duels end in Hermione taking Bellatrix down with a whip, which leaves an impression on Bella when she's sent back to Azkaban. Luna invents a longer-range time turner, Hermione is lonely after divorcing Ron, and the Black sisters were just legendary for getting up to gay nonsense... https://www.patreon.com/posts/48881466 Harry is thrashing in Remus grip, refusing to believe it and trying to dive through the Veil. Hermione takes in the other members of her merry band of child soldiers.

Ron's a mess. Black eye. Split lip. Bloody knuckles. Dark red staining the tips of his sweaty ginger hair where it dips against a cut on his forehead. Looks like a soccer hooligan after a riot. Made excellent use of that table leg when he lost his wand, though.Full marks.

Ginny displayed raw elemental force with wind, cold and lightning that her tiny body shouldn't have been able to contain and reflexes none of them could keep pace with.

Luna was bloody terrifying. She nearly killed a man with an origami dragon made out of interdepartmental memos. Hermione nearly threw up after her first real curse connected, after the first time that she did magic that truly harmed another human being. Yet Luna simply cocked her head and looked curiously at the dragon and was about to pet it when it dissolved.Creativity and lack of inhibitions are useful in a soldier, Hermione supposes.

Tonks is badly hurt, but she's breathing at least. What the fuck was that curse? Dumbledore has been letting her read up on Dark Arts, supervised, and she's never heard of those elements being combined. If there's a person spending their rainy Sundays with a notepad working out new ways to use dark arts, it's probably Bellatrix Lestrange.

A magically amplified voice rings throughout the room.

"I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black!"

Harry slips out of Remus' grip and then he's gone.

Fucking invisibility cloak. One of these days, I'm going to hang him with it. ----- Never used an Unforgivable Curse, have you, boy?" she chuckles.

The dark witch's hand is not far from her own wand. She's taunting Harry about having to mean it when he does dark magic. 

Pathos versus logos, one French scholar decided when studying the topic. Someone can do ordinary magic emotionlessly, acting out just an idea. Not dark magic. Dark spellwork takes raw emotion and blood magic and dark rites more so.

Which also brings her to the disturbing realization that Bellatrix is not nearly as broken as everyone thinks, and at the same time, she's so much more broken than anyone realized.She's never seen Harry this angry, or this torn up, and he can't summon a cruciatus for a woman who really deserves one. 

Bellatrix can let one drop from her lips like its nothing, ten seconds after telling a joke. She's not cold. She's not empty or numb or hollow. Bellatrix Black Lestrange is just too much. She's always boiling over.

She's not dangerous despite being insane because it's not a handicap. Bellatrix is dangerous because she can use her own insanity. Uses her instability as just one more weapon. To be able to do the things she does, to channel wildly different emotions on a moment's notice like that... ----- Hermione spots a bit of velvet rope on the ground, not far from one of the entrances.

"Accio rope," she whispers, calling it slowly into her hand.Bellatrix's fingers are curling around that clawed wand of hers. Any moment now, she's going to make use of the fact that Harry's standing there, barking out curses he doesn't understand the mechanics of, his lip trembling. She's going to kill him.

"Flagellum ingis!" Hermione shouts and the rope in her hand catches fire. Crimson, bloody-looking flames. What had been a few inches of fat velvet is now a thirty-foot coil of nasty-looking black leather. The frayed end becomes a hard metal handle. She swings and, by some miracle, connects. ----- Shacklebolt stares at her for a long time, like he doesn't believe her.

There's a knock on the door.

"Enter," he calls over his shoulder. It's Tonks, wobbling on crutches with an expandable sack under her arm. Her typically pink hair is a messy gray and her metamorphagus skills seem to be trying to shift her dislocated jaw back into shape, against the bracing charm the healers put on her.

"Tonks!"

"Wotcher, Hermione," she chuckles.

"Get it?" Kingsley asks.

"Kreacher wasn't happy about it, but yes."

She tips the sack upside down and drops a huge book on the table. It's bound in crimson silk and black lace. No title on the spine, instead two words. Tojous pur. Always pure. The motto of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. "Looks a bit like fancy knickers, don't it?" Tonks jokes. ----- When the Black Grimoire teleports itself into Hermione's lap, no one's laughing. Arthur Weasley goes white as a sheet and Remus's eyes flicker gold momentarily and she could swear she heard a canine's whine.

"Hermione," Remus says, his voice scratchy and small. "Please. That's..."

"Dangerous," Arthur fills in.

They're all looking at her like she's Darth Vader, suddenly. Like she has to be talked down. Like she's suddenly the most dangerous person in the room. She looks at the book. What spells are in this, anyway, that it being in her lap makes the entire Order of the Phoenix flinch?

"I don't want it!" she protests.

The book teleports itself again. Where it goes, none of them can figure out.

----- The book comes back again the night before the battle. She asks Tonks over to try to get rid of it. "S'not something to be afraid of, little devil," Tonks says. "Doesn't have to be." Little devil is Tonks' nickname for her, after finding a photo of Hermione gothed-out at age eleven, a few weeks before she got her letter. She's stopped using it around others. "I'd think you'd hate the Blacks," Hermione mumbles.Tonks sighs, shifting her skirts out of the way and sitting down on the bench beside her. Hogsmeade is empty. Cleared out so fast that everyone left almost everything. They've been eating like kings, and it helps. Tonks especially is thriving. Crazy bitch decided to put the witch-or-wizard debate to bed for all time by rejoining the war nine days after giving birth, slinging spells while leaking milk into her clothes. "I think that'd be like using a time turner to kill my grandparents," Tonks admits. She puffs at her hair, which goes pink, then blue, then green, then turns to something rather like glass. "Being a Black gave me this ability.” "Let's take a look, shall we?" Tonks squeezes her hand tight, and together they open the grimoire. "I'll keep you safe." ----- She's staggering out of the Great Hall. Bloody. Aching. Alive. Before she can find a banister to lean on, Tonks slams into her. Hermione wails. "Sorry," Tonks squeaks. "Just ribs," she grumbles. "What is it?" "Page two hundred seventeen. Knowing what that curse looks like? Saved my life. Remus' too." Hermione huffs."Next time you're trying to thank me, let's talk, all right?" The Grimoire appears in her trunk on the way back to Hogwarts to re-take her seventh year. This time, it won't leave, even when ordered to. ----- Everything is pain and exhaustion. But Rose is gorgeous. She's everything. Hermione fumbles for her wand, gathers the birth blood into the air and then whispers out an ancient curse with her lips pressed to her eldest's tiny, sticky head. Not all curses are meant to hurt the one at the center of them. The Mother's Curses are darker than night and because of the blood linking caster to target, far more powerful than ordinary spells. ------ They split after Hugo's born. It's more to do with her campaign for Minister, which she loses by a hair, than the 'neglect' of Hugo who she keeps so close she thinks that Molly would have blushed. As divorces go, it's bloodless. Pureblood-muggleborn marriages can be rocky, of course, and she produced heirs for the Weasley line. So from the traditionalist point of view, the muggle divorce and the Gringotts paperwork don't mean much. The same ceremony showed that their children's blood bears more of her magic than his. For that reason, or some other reason, Ron never bad-mouths her in public. She never moves to have their names changed to merely 'Granger'. She hears 'mudblood' whispered for the first time in a long while. ----- On one side of her desk, the plaque bears bold green letters that thrum with sorcery. Hermione Jean Granger, Minister of Magic On the other side, visible only in the presence of a Dumbledore's Army coin, she scratched a second marking in one of Tolkien's half-right, half-wrong scripts of Elvish. here sits a servant of the elves ----- "WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR, A BLACK?" a woman shrieks outside her office. Hermione groans, dropping her fork back into her takeout container.Harry chuckles, glancing up from his case file. "Your damn fault," she mutters."You needed the help, old friend. Be a shame if paperwork killed you after all this." "It'd be the most evil thing that tried, so it makes sense." She flicks her wand at her office door. "In here, both of you!" she barks. ----- "Sarah?" Hermione asks, desperate to hear a human voice across the shuffling of papers. "Yes, ma'am?" "Something's been bugging me about...the incident." Missy stiffens. "What?" she asks, flipping another sheet face down."You said, what do you take me for, then added the word Black." There's a polite throat-clearing so familiar sounding that has Hermione scrambling for her wand and leveling it at a sixteen-year-old girl. "Right. Sorry," she mumbles. "Sounded a bit like..." "Umbridge," the girl laughs. "Professor Longbottom and Professor Abbot complain too." "I keep telling her that's going to get her jinxed," the boy next to her huffs. "Interrupting people who that lunatic tortured in mid-lecture rather than just raising her hand." "Shut up, Ballard." "Go on...uh...""Myn," the girl chirps, offering her hand. "Mynara Wallsworth." Hermione shakes it and then bows. "Enlighten us, wise one." "It's just that the Blacks are notorious. There's a bunch of scratches on the sixth-year Slytherin dorm's walls. Hard to tell with fading, but at least twenty. According to legend, it's one mark for each girl who got a hat trick." "A what?" "Each girl who snogged all three of the Black sisters during school."

[skyvaikers]

broken memories

summary: she was once held for 30 years in carbonate, lived through the first order and saw the end of the war, so she goes back to where her memories lie.

warnings: some serious angst, you may cry, and there isn’t a clear pairing in this.

note: i was listening to ‘lovely’ by billie eilish and khalid and was inspired. for the sake of this, the jedi temple is still standing on coruscant.

———

she was born at the same time anakin skywalker was, so she should be dead. she didn’t believe she’d ever get to see the end of the war. it had been raging for so long; part of her was thankful for being in carbonate for so long. maz kanata brought her into the new world three years ago, throwing the woman into a whole new era. she had been working to build her strength and be able to use her lightsabers again (which maz conveniently had). she trained herself, brought herself up from what she remembered.

she was now in her mid thirties, staring blankly at the celebration going on in front of her. it was indeed something to be celebrated, the end of the war. rey had defeated palpatine; y/n believed it was finally over. but, her heart ached still. she looked towards the ships, the force urging her she should go.

“y/n-hey are you alright?” poe dameron showed himself and she smiled softly.

“uh, yeah. just...in disbelief,” she assured him, which wasn’t the case. she nodded at him as he gave her a pat on the shoulder and left. she returned her longing gaze towards the ship, and before she knew it, her feet were moving.

“hey y/n! where are you going?” rey asked. y/n then thought for a moment; rey needed to see where it all began.

“come with me,” y/n turned to look at the young brunette.

“where are we going?” she quipped, a smile plastered on her face. “i’m honestly tired of adventures,” she added.

“coruscant.” y/n answered, causing rey’s bright expression to fade. it was once controlled by the enemy, but since the enemy was defeated, coruscant was no longer in anyone’s control.

“on the other hand, maybe i’m up for one more.”

———

as they came out of hyperspace, the planet in their view, y/n felt herself going into a trance. the purple hue of the planet, the cities no longer lit brightly like they used to be. it was darker, but it was still coruscant. it was where she grew up.

“this is where the jedi temple was, right?” rey asked.

“is.” y/n corrected, confusing rey.

“i beg your pardon?” she asked, her brow creasing in confusion.

“the jedi temple still is on coruscant; it never was completely destroyed. it has had many uses over the years, luke skywalker had rebuilt it until it was taken over once again.” y/n told her as they entered the atmosphere of the planet.

rey knew of y/n’s past, that she used to live on coruscant. she knew it hurt to come back, but it was so interesting to be in the place of the jedi.

they landed, still hidden from any remaining first order forces. y/n stepped off of the ship, memories flooding back to her; good and bad. she took hesitant steps, walking closer and closer to the main streets of coruscant. once the two women reached the streets, y/n turned to see the temple, in all of its damaged glory. for a moment, the jedi froze. her childhood, her life, was spent in those spires.

they kept walking, the people of coruscant staying in their homes with the fear of another invasion. y/n ran her hands across the buildings, feeling the residue from the battles and the oppression. the force was strong, despite the pain that resided. they walked closer and closer to the temple, and they kept walking until they came to the steps.

rey had never seen such a thing in her life. the vastness of the temple, the glory in it even amidst all of the destruction. rubble from previous battles lay around the base, but it was still the same temple y/n remembered.

“I became a padawan under master shaak ti here. I trained alongside anakin skywalker, but I eventually moved on to living on kamino afterward to train more intensely with my master.” y/n spoke as she stood at the stairs. rey could sense the pain, the heartache just talking about it.

“what...happened to your master?” rey asked carefully; she knew it was a sore spot, even after all of these years.

“while meditating, my master was killed by darth vader,” she replied sadly. y/n hadn’t witnessed it, but she remembered feeling it. she remembered freezing and not knowing what to do. she remembered trying her hardest not to sob as she continued to fight the men she once considered brothers.

rey was silent. she had no idea what to say to that. she had heard about the horrors of the clone war, she had no idea how she was going to comfort the jedi woman beside her.

y/n climbed the steps of the temple, coming to the doors. she placed her hand flat against the doors, feeling the force flow through the temple. she stood there a moment before taking it off.

“be careful, bounty hunters and scavengers like to hideout in places like this.” y/n warned as she opened the doors to the famous jedi temple.

the second she walked in, she was bombarded with memories. she stopped, closing her eyes and letting the memories come back to her. her and anakin running through the halls and getting scolded by master kenobi. her knighting ceremony.

rey took a look around, seeing the statutes that once stood so tall and grand. she could see what used to be elegant, she saw why this was considered a temple. she could feel the other jedi; if they weren’t with her before they were definitely with her now. she turned towards y/n, who was obviously reminiscing.

y/n opened her eyes and started walking again. she ran her hands over the fallen statues, her hand leaving a trail of marble. the red carpet beneath them was tattered and worn; many jedi walked these carpets.

“can you feel them?” y/n asked. rey nodded her head. she could definitely feel them. y/n closed her eyes again and she opened up her mind, letting her guard down.

“y/n...” came a voice, she snapped open her eyes, looking behind her. rey was still in awe, geeking out over the fact she was in the Jedi temple. she knew it was the force, it was someone in the force. she turned to face in front of her, tears slowly building in her eyes.

“i’m going to go down here, is that alright?” rey asked, pointing down a separate hallway.

“yeah, just be careful.” y/n answered. she was alone, the force surrounding her. she closed her eyes again, allowing herself to become even more vulnerable.

“y/n...” she heard again. she snapped open her eyes, and this time there was a figure in front of her. the figure was of her master, shaak ti. the togruta woman looked as powerful and kind as she did when she was alive. y/n felt hot tears fall down her face.

“master...” she whispered, her voice faltering. the force ghost of her master moved towards her. shaak ti raised a hand as if to wipe her tears away.

“the war has been won my padawan, you’ve done well,” she told y/n, which made her let out a sob.

“but we’ve lost so many,” she whimpered.

“you took rey under your wing. you trained her to be better than her heritage. you led her the way i led you.” she told y/n, who smiled weakly and nodded. “look at what came out of it, you’ve won what we couldn’t.” shaak ti added softly.

“sometimes i wish i would have died so i didn’t have to endure all these wars,” she admitted.

“there was a reason why you didn’t, the resistance needed you. they needed someone with your fire, with your undeniable loyalty.” she smiled, her features never creasing under the pressure.

“thank you, master. for being my teacher.” y/n bowed her head, her master doing the same.

“i will never leave you, my padawan. we will never leave you.” shaak ti spoke, and when y/n raised her head she could see her best friend anakin skywalker, his master obi-wan kenobi, and other fallen jedi.

“now, go. continue to carry the legacy, continue to train and bring back the jedi.” her master then disappeared, leaving y/n with a tear-stained face and silent sobs wracking her body. force, she missed them so much. she fell to her knees, tears rolling down her raw cheeks. rey came back, seeing her friend on the floor and crying. the ex-scavenger took her friend into her arms and they sat there on the tattered carpet, remembering the jedi of the past.

———

i legit cried while writing this and it was also an impulsive write? so please give it some love? i needed to get it out before i go to my other request haha. please enjoy and tell me your thoughts :,)

[piccolina-mina]

But Who Takes Care of You?

Fandom: Roswell, New Mexico 

Pairing/Characters: Kyle Valenti and Maria DeLuca (Kyluca) 

Inspo: Who takes care of the caretakers? 

A/N: Because the show really needs to let Kyluca be great (preferably better than this, but it’s something). 

They’re the best apart, and they’d be even better together if they ever got more screentime. It’s a random freestyle I wasn’t sure if I would share, but #KylucaRights.:)

~~~~ 

i.

The desert air made him instantly feel at home.

The sun beamed down as he inhaled deeply and ignored the jostle of folks scurrying in and out of the airport.

“Ay Guapo!”

He didn’t have to see her to recognize the voice. His lip curled up into a genuine smile. His eyes darted around him until he saw her standing a few feet ahead holding a “Dr. McSexy” sign and smirking at him.

He sauntered over to her, his carry on in tow, and pulled his sunglasses off when he got closer.

“Are you posing? Rubbing it in with those cheekbones,” she snorted. “Every time I see you, you get hotter, Valenti.”

Maria flashed him that stunning smile that made him return one in kind.

“I would say the same, but you’ve always been hot. A little hard to improve on perfection.”

She rolled her eyes but grinned widely and before he realized it, he was wrapped up in her arms.

He squeezed her back, basked in her scent of sandalwood and vanilla, and the shea and coconut that clung to her hair.

They hugged for what felt like an eternity, but it was only a few moments.

He didn’t know when it happened exactly. He and Maria socialized in school, but they were never particularly close.

He was more than aware of how much of an ass he was back then, and she didn’t hesitate to remind him. Rosa’s death changed everything.

Their world tilted on its axis. He never anticipated how one tragedy could change the trajectory of their lives.

He didn’t know Rosa enough to feel like he lost her, but he lost Liz. Those years after were life-altering.

Any opportunity he had to make it back home, outside of his mother, the only constant was Maria. She was there, and familiar, and somehow they developed a bond over the years.

She kept up with his life on social media – the graduation ceremonies, the late-night bitching during residency, and her personal favorite thirst posts on Instagram.

He kept up with her too. She told him things his mother never did and updated him on old friends, like Alex. 

He visited her at the Pony when he was in town, and sometimes they would catch a movie at the drive-in and reminisce on the old days. Mainly, they would imagine what Liz Ortecho was up to.

“I thought you were driving?” Maria squinted up at him. She nudged him until he started walking, and it was only when they neared her truck did he realize she was driving him.

“I planned on it, but I got called into the hospital early at the last minute,” he stopped at her car and leaned against it taking in his surroundings and smiling fondly.

“Admit it, you were homesick and wanted out of Iowa,” Maria teased. She raised a brow daring him to refute.

“It was very cold and very white.”

Her laugh was contagious, and he found himself joining in with her.

“I just told mom before I boarded the flight. How’d you find out I was coming in early?”

“I’m psychic, remember?” She winked at him playfully, and he couldn’t stop grinning.

Maria always had that effect. She had a way of making everyone around her smile. She was comforting and real, and he never realized how much he missed her energy until he was sucked back into her orbit.

“You didn’t have to come for me,” he said quietly. “I know my way home.”

She shrugged, signaled for him to toss his luggage in the back and disappeared into the driver seat before he could read her expression.

He took his time arranging his luggage and sliding into the passenger seat. He sensed she needed a moment to regroup and put on that fun-loving facade he adored but knew she clung to more than she let on.

“Seriously, Maria. I know you’re busy,” he said carefully.

She reached out now and then for inquiries. His mother was the one who told him about Mimi’s mental deterioration, how she had bad days, and Maria juggled the Pony and looking after her mom.

He tried not to pry, but from what he knew, no one could figure out what was wrong.

“All work and no fun makes Maria a dull girl,” she drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as they waited for the cars ahead of them to pull off.

“I take off on special occasions,” she honked her horn, and he winced at the person flipping the bird back at them.

“I’m a special occasion?”

He went for sly, but something about the way her eyebrow rose equal parts impressed and flirty gave him the impression it sounded more suggestive than he intended.

But Maria always gave as good as she got.

“Only if you’re lucky, Valenti. You’re not that lucky.”

“The Insta comments say otherwise,” he teased her.

She shot him an annoyed look utterly ruined by her scrunched up mouth as she tried to keep from laughing.

Finally, a break in the traffic and Maria shot forward. He gripped the seat and instantly recalled her penchant for going above the speed limit.

“It feels like a special occasion anytime anyone makes it back home.” She was serious, and something about the tone of her voice made him want to squeeze her hand, but he refrained.

“Everyone deserves a welcome wagon, Kyle.”

‘It doesn’t get any warmer.“ He tilted his head to the side and added. “Thanks to you.”

And in a quintessential Maria move, she turned up the volume. He didn’t contain his excitement when the car flooded with Regulate.

Somewhere between the highway and his mother’s house they ended up in a heated rap battle sing-along, and he didn’t care what Maria said, he won.

Returning home came with its share of memories, many of them painful.

But it came with friends too.

ii.

 "Right or wrong. Don’t it turn you on–“

“Maria?!” He called out. The second he unlocked his apartment, her voice bounced across the no longer bare and no longer white walls.

“Can’t you see we’re wastin’ time, yeah,” she continued.

From the way she was swinging her hips and bobbing her head, he suspected her music was up too high for her to hear him.

“Maria!’ He called out louder, as he dropped his keys on the counter and shut the door behind him.

"Do you wanna touch …Yeah.”

“Maria!’ He tried again to no avail. He had to give it to her; she was committed. Her long legs and short overalls were splattered in paint.

She had her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she was retouching a small spot with the last of the paint.

He leaned against the kitchen island and for the first time took in his apartment. She had rearranged his furniture, finally putting it in place after far too long spent collecting dust in the first place the movers sat it down.

All of his boxes were emptied, and everything was seemingly put away. Instead of the college frat boy vibe happening from the moment he moved in, his place looked every bit the trendy bachelor pad that it was.

"Do you wanna touch– FUCK, Kyle!”

Maria spun around mid-dance move, and if he didn’t literally know any better, he would have thought he gave her a heart attack.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she tossed the paintbrush into the pan and swiped hair away from her forehead.

“Funny you should say that,” he tried to suppress his laughter, but it didn’t work. She rolled her eyes at him and plucked her earbuds out of her ears.

“I had the same reaction given there was someone else in my apartment. It’s been a while since I came home to a woman playing house.”

“See, this is the kind of tea I like to hear, and yet you keep withholding.”

He shook his head and padded to the refrigerator for a drink. Halfway through guzzling an iced tea, he noticed she was actually serious about her statement.

He made his way around the island until he was in front of her. Handed her a bottle and rested against the back of the couch.

“Fine, she was a live-in girlfriend for a year. She worked at the hospital too.”

Maria squealed. He found her way too thrilled about his love life, but who was he to deny her the small joys of gossip when she had done so much for him?

“Did she greet you at the door with a martini in hand?” She joked.

“Nah, usually she was naked,” he winked at her.

“Hate to disappoint you, Valenti, but I took a more practical approach.”

He softened staring around his apartment and all the changes she made.

His mother had got on his case for weeks about making his apartment into a home, but between work and sleep, he hadn’t gotten around to it.

She bought the paint, deliberately pushed boxes into the middle of the floor and hoped it would be enough to prompt him to get to work, but two months later, his apartment wasn’t that different than when he moved in.

Until now.

He didn’t recognize the curtains framing the windows or the area rugs, but given the color and flair, he knew it was all Maria.

His kitchen appliances were where they should have been. Throw pillows made his leather couch pop, and the tv no longer sat atop sturdy boxes but rather an actual stand.

For the first time, his apartment actually felt like home.

“Maria,” his dark eyes met hers, and he could hear the emotion in his voice. He tried to keep it at bay as he internally processed why this touched him so much.

“You didn’t have to do this,” his eyes landed on a frame on a shelf, a picture of his father, and his mother’s rosary resting over it.

He pulled Maria to him with one arm before she could react. He pressed his lips to her hair before clearing his throat and stepping away.

“You really didn’t-”

“Hey,” her eyes sparkling like glitter was the only indication she gave him that she was emotional too. “It’s no big deal. The Wild Pony flooded today, damn pipe burst, so I’m losing a day and a half. I needed the distraction.”

She cupped his face tenderly, flashing him a half-smile before giving him a light smack, breaking the spell.

“It was getting depressing, Kyle. Two months of your shit lying around, if I didn’t do it, would you ever have gotten around to it?”

“You sound like my mother. I have my doubts, but I’m guessing that’s how you got in?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” she sing-songed backing up. “And you may want to enhance your security, just an FYI. I’d hook you up with my handy guy, but you two always had bad blood.”

He snorted. Not much changed between him and Michael Guerin since high school, but apparently, Maria developed a soft spot for the broody cowboy over the years.

“Hey, mind if a grab a quick shower before dinner?”

She asked, but it wasn’t lost on him that she was already headed towards the master bath.

She clearly had made herself at home.

“Why start asking now?” He plopped on the couch, finally getting the chance to put his feet up and relax after hours spent in the OR.

“Did you say dinner?” He bellowed from the couch.

“It’s on the way. I’m starving, and you’re paying. Don’t forget to tip,” she called out.

She peeked out from his bedroom dangling one of his workout shirts.

He could have sworn they were still packed in a box that morning, which meant Maria unpacked his bedroom too. The thought of that should have concerned him, but he pushed it out of his mind.

“I’m borrowing this!” Her head disappeared before he could so much as respond, and he chuckled to himself.

Before he knew it, he was tipping the delivery boy from his favorite BBQ joint, and Maria was setting up dinner in front of the big screen.

She smelled like his body wash, and she curled up on the couch next to him, cross-legged in his oversized shirt, and he didn’t even want to think about what of his she borrowed as bottoms.

“What’s your pleasure, D? Rom-com?” He took a bite of his brisket sandwich and hummed in appreciation.

“I know, right? The good stuff.” She mirrored him, a healthy bite making her cheeks bulge. “I don’t sniff at a good rom-com, but it’s an action kind of night.”

“Thank God,” he kicked his feet up on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. To his surprise, it was already keyed up for one of the Mission Impossibles.

“It’s OK, you don’t have to say it. I know I’m the best.”

He stole a french fry off her plate and laughed when she swatted his hand away. After a while, they settled into a comfortable silence watching the movie.

Truthfully, she really was.

iii.

On the anniversary of his father’s death, he learned to throw himself into work.

In the early days, in his youth, he would toy with a bottle of whiskey, roll the top between his fingers. He would inhale, slow and deep and wonder if he’d find a reason for why he had to lose his father so early in the bottom of a bottle.

He thought it would bring them closer together … him closer to understanding the man who he worshipped and ached for every day.

His father found answers at the bottom of a bottle, why couldn’t he?

But it was a slippery slope, and he knew that.

He’s not an addict, but he could be, and the thought of slipping into the darkness scares the hell out of him.

So he directed his energy into something else, usually picking up other shifts. And while he and his mother checked in with each other, their grieving processes were different.

He never gave it much thought. He didn’t want to intrude.

But when he got a text from Maria, he realized maybe, since he was home again, it was time to grieve together.

The Wild Pony was packed, as usual, and he felt out of place in his scrubs he didn’t bother to change out of.

He glanced around, afraid of what he might find. Maria reassured him in brief texts, but that day he wouldn’t get any comfort until he saw his mother for himself.

Maria was serving up drinks with a tired smile, and when her eyes met his from across the room, she nodded.

He followed her gaze to the back of the Pony. His mother was in her street clothes. Her hair was loose and obscuring her face – a black curtain falling over her eyes and dipping into what appeared to be a lukewarm cup of coffee in front of her.

He sighed. The other drunks and regulars didn’t seem to notice her or him for that matter. His father got away with a lot, but he doubted his mother as a female sheriff could. Small towns meant lots of gossiping.

“Mom,” he squatted down in front of her, his knees groaning with the action after a long shift. “Let me take you home, mom.”

She looked at him with bleary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She didn’t see him at first. It was like she was looking through him, but when he folded her hands into his, she finally did.

She didn’t say a word; she merely nodded and reached out to stroke his jaw.

The only thing that rivaled the sadness in her eyes was the shame. She stood and grabbed his arm like it was the last thing keeping her from drowning. When he saw how broken she appeared, he thought maybe he was.

“Take me home, perrito,” her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper as they shuffled toward the door.

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and bit his lip to keep from crying. The burning warmth on the side of his face as he guided his mother through huddled bodies was like its own hug.

Maria eyed him from behind the bar her brows knit in concern and mouthed, ‘Are you OK” or something akin to it.

A curt nod was all he could muster before they slipped out.

The drive to his childhood home was short, but the process of getting his mother settled down was long.

She refused to sleep in her bed– the bed she shared with his father for years. She settled on the couch, and after he slipped into some old clothes of his lying around, he did too.

She slumped into his lap and curled up on the couch like a small child. He could still smell the stale beer and gin. He stroked her hair – his nimble fingers ghosting across her forehead and pressed a cool compress to her neck.

The blinking light on his phone caught his eye, and he checked his messages.

Maria texted once to ask if he was alright and called once too.

He wasn’t alright. He was far from it, but there was nothing that could be done. His father’s old clock sounded, and it was only then when he realized it was past midnight.

But it was too late; his fingers worked of their own volition calling Maria before he could think.

“Hello,” she sounded tired but also concerned. The whooshing in the background meant she was driving home for the night.

“Kyle,” she breathed. He looked down at his mother softly snoring in his lap, and then the photo on the coffee table, a family portrait, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond.

“It’s OK,” her voice was soft and soothing. “You don’t have to talk. I promise I won’t hang up.”

His eyes prickled with tears he had managed to restrain all day. A gurgled sound crawled up his throat, and he inhaled sharp surprised the choked sob came from him.

He pressed the heel of his palm to his eyes trying to staunch the dam, but it was no use.

He could hear Maria hum soothingly, but it only made him cry more.

And that was how they stayed. He heard her car stop, the sound of the key scratching against the door. He heard her breathing as she went about her nightly routine.

He heard the water running, the soft creak of her climbing into bed, her sighs as her body relaxed after a long day.

“Thank you,” his voice was hoarse as he whispered into the phone, but at least his words were back. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, Kyle,” she sighed into the phone. “How is she doing?”

“Resting,” he whispered, not wanting to rouse her.

“How are you?”

The question caught him short. He exhaled slow, but it didn’t make his voice sound any less small and fragile. “I miss him,” he said honestly. “We both do.”

“I know,” Maria whispered back. “I know.”

And he knew she did. Her mother was still alive, but it was like she wasn’t there at all. Sometimes he wondered if that would feel worse; missing someone who was still there.

“I need to do better – be better,” he stroked his mother’s hair and bit back another strangled sob. “I’ve been so busy. We don’t check-in enough, and I–”

“You’re a good son, Kyle,” Maria yawned into the phone. “She talked about you nonstop, and she still does. She’s so proud of you.”

He sniffled and nodded his head, looking down at the woman in his lap. “Maybe so, but I should – ” he cleared his throat. “I just need to do a better job taking care of her too.”

“And you do, Ky…” Maria mumbled into the phone. Her speech slowed down as she struggled to stave off the slumber but failed. “But who takes care of you?”

He listened to her soft snores over the phone for a moment – the breathing of both women oddly relaxing him.

“Goodnight, Maria,” he whispered into the phone hanging up and succumbing to his own exhaustion.

iv.

He learned over the years that Maria had a knack for scaring the shit out of him, but it wasn’t until later he realized it wasn’t intentional on her part.

Somewhere between jamming out to his playlist and waiting for a gaggle of tourists to cross the town square, his passenger door opened unexpectedly.

Before he could so much as yelp in surprise, Maria slid in all flowy skirt and a hint of sandalwood.

“Shit! Maria, what –” one glance in her direction stopped him cold.

“Just drive, please,” her voice was raspy as if she had been crying, but he saw no traces of it.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked gently.

She placed bare feet up on the dash, her skirt billowing around her knees, and he refrained from lecturing her on the pitfalls of being in such a position if they ended up in an accident.

“No,” she said quietly. She pressed her face to the window and hugged herself.

He reached across the console and fastened her seatbelt for her, and turned the music up.

He didn’t know what was troubling her, but he understood the need for distraction.

He didn’t pry, but he did sing-a-long to his Latin mix badly. He could make Spanish sound the opposite of sexy when he made an effort, and while she didn’t join in, her lips would turn up just a tad during a particularly bad note. Her eyes were dark pools of sadness though.

She didn’t budge when he dropped letters off at the post office. She stared at the mechanizations of the car wash with that childlike wonder one never seemed to lose.

She tipped the young pimply-faced teen drying the car before he could dig out more singles, but she never said a word.

It was like he was on his own and Maria was his shadow.

She hopped out when it was time to go inside the grocery store. She tagged along like a bored kid, except she wasn’t so much bored as unusually quiet and distracted, with her mind a million miles away.

“I can feel your judgment from here,” he joked when he put a dozen frozen dinners into the basket.

“Inquiring minds want to know how are you a doctor with a body like that,” she gestured at him. “Living off of frozen dinners?”

“They’re quick, easy, and delicious. Don’t act like you don’t eat this shit too.” He tossed a box of Easy Mac into the basket and glowered.

“I’m poor, Kyle. Of course, I eat this shit,” she countered throwing two boxes of Pop-Tarts in with the other groceries.

“I’m poor too,” he smirked at her dubious expression. “Student loans.”

She nodded. “Touchè.”

To his surprise, shopping with Maria became an adventure. She tossed more crap into the cart, most of which he snuck out when she wasn’t looking.

She was a natural haggler too. She charmed the butcher into giving her, well, him, a deal on a couple of steaks which she promised to make for their next movie night.

They only had one mishap when he accidentally hit the back of her ankles with the cart, and he almost saw his life flash before his eyes when she glared at him.

They settled on a pint of ice cream, he caved to cookie dough because he promised her it would make her feel better, and they snagged a few spoons from the hot food bar before hitting the register.

She opted for the self-checkout, and he figured out it was for the best when she dug through her huge purse for a handful of coupons she knew she had in there.

He wasn’t a coupon person, and it embarrassed him a bit until he saved 13 bucks. He could live with Maria’s smug response after that.

She was lighter and happier, the Maria he was most familiar with by the time they settled down on a park bench to relax and share their pint.

An ensuing war over a coveted chunk of cookie dough led to a spoon battle and his utensil falling to its death in a pile of dirt.

“Mine!” She crowed claiming the piece.

He couldn’t resist laughing at her victory dance as she hummed in satisfaction at the sweet confectionery goodness melting on her tongue.

She didn’t see him coming when he plucked her spoon out of her mouth, dove into the pint and shoveled a hunk of ice cream into his.

“Hey, asshole!” She shrieked ignoring the dirty look a mother with her children shot her way.

“Sharing is caring,” he said around a mouthful of ice cream.

She rolled her eyes, snatched the spoon and pint back and went to town.

“This is the most fun I’ve had adulting in a long time,” he admitted truthfully.

“That’s because adulting isn’t meant to be fun,” she shrugged. The smile on her lips settled into a hard line.

“Let’s hear it, Maria.” He gently knocked his shoulder into hers. “Not that I didn’t enjoy you practically hijacking my car today, but what’s wrong?”

“They still don’t know what’s wrong with her,” she whispered. “Another specialist. More money that I don’t have spent, and no answer.”

She met his eyes briefly, and he saw the tears she was fighting back. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and offered a comforting squeeze.

“Maria, I can loan you–” he started even though he felt her tense beside him.

“No, Kyle. I can’t. You’ve helped me enough. Your colleague back in Iowa at least didn’t treat me like a crazy person or treat Mimi like an inconvenience. He was good, kind, and a breath of fresh air.

God knows I’ve run into my fair share of assholes. Not to mention the entire healthcare system is fucked…” she sighed.

He clenched his jaw as it pulsated with his own frustration. “Trust me, I know better than anyone.”

“It’s just every day I feel like I’m losing more of her,” she stared at a young mother helping a toddler climb on a plastic turtle.

“I know it seems like I …” she blew out a puff of air and distracted herself with stirring the remnants of ice cream until it became soupy.

“Losing pieces of her is like losing myself,” she shrugged. “She’s my compass, and she grounds me, without it – without her, I’m lost.”

He nodded. He understood that feeling after his father died.

“I think it’s incredible, the way you take care of Mimi…” he knew she didn’t always take compliments well, but he didn’t consider it a compliment so much as the truth. “It’s hard, and I can’t even begin to imagine, but I admire you, Maria. I hope you know that.”

She didn’t respond. She looked away instead, but he saw the way her cheeks were the slightest tinge of red.

“You take care of your mom, and you feed the community every month, and … ” he sighed, frustrated for his friend. “You need to let someone take care of you some time.”

“I’m a big girl, Kyle,” she went for light and flashed him that irresistible smile. “I can take care of myself.”

He wanted to add that she shouldn’t always have to, but in addition to knowing how hypocritical that would be of him, he sensed she wanted to drop the topic.

So he did.

“I’ll deny it later, and don’t let it get to your head, but I’m glad you’re back, Kyle.”

He chuckled, snatched the ice cream soup out of her hand and downed it.

“I am too,” he said after a while.

And he was.

v.

There were days when his job was the worst in the world.

Losing a patient never got easier, and no amount of experience could make delivering the news to the family less difficult.

His chest still ached from a pummel of fists hitting him as he eased a sobbing woman to the waiting room floor and held her.

His skin was blotchy and bruise. It was tender to the touch, but he welcomed the pain.

The pain reminded him that he was still alive, but it also reminded him that his patient wasn’t.

It took him a while to find a routine – something to direct all his energy towards in those dark moments.

Otherwise, the darkness would consume him. It would take a toll on him, but more importantly, it would interfere with his ability to be effective at his job.

He could never risk that; it was too important to him.

He retreated into himself. He declined the offers for drinks or dinner. He hit the gym and worked himself out until he collapsed, and then worked himself out some more.

Angry beats, a cacophony of harsh lyrics, blared in his ears as his feet slapped hard against the treadmill.

Sharp jabs against a punching bag until his knuckles were sore. 

Shadowboxing, more often than not, was easier on his hands; but sometimes he wanted to punish them for failing. For not healing. For allowing someone’s life to slip through their fingers.

He knew there was nothing he could have done, but feelings aren’t logical.

Then he hit the showers, hot water at a punishing setting sluicing against his skin in rivulets.

He drove home in silence, and sometimes he prayed and hoped the next day would be better.

On particularly hard days, an anguished scream would claw its way up to his throat, and he would cry. The echos of distraught family members and friends haunted him.

He would throw on a reality cooking competition and eat a frozen dinner until he fell asleep.

Everyone had their process.

His was almost complete until he arrived home and saw the kitchen light on over the stove.

He cursed to himself when he dropped the keys on the counter. He couldn’t… be if his mother dropped in.

She knew what it was like losing a person, but her way of coping differed from his.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk,” Maria came out of the bathroom not the least bit surprised by his appearance.

“I heard … that accident,” she wiped her hands down her sides to get off the remaining moisture. “I’m not staying. I just brought you something to eat.”

He was frozen in place, and he couldn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks,” he responded sharply.

He didn’t trust himself to say more, and fortunately, Maria seemed to understand.

He dropped his gym bag on the floor beside him.

His hair was still dripping from the shower, and his body already ached, and he just wanted to fall face-first into the couch, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

The intrusion threw him all out of wack. Any move could lead to him being more vulnerable than he wanted to be in anyone’s presence, even hers.

But then there was something about her presence …

“I’m heading out now,” she said softly. “Text me later.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile as she brushed past him. She squeezed his shoulder on her way past. “Sorry for your loss, Kyle.”

His hand entangled with hers before he could think about it, grabbing and locking her hand in his as she breezed past.

“Stay,” his voice was gruff even to his own ears. “Please. If it isn’t too much trouble.”

She squeezed his hand and nodded.

He went around the island and peeled back the foil on the plate she left him. It was still hot.

He shuffled to the couch and collapsed on it like the wind had been knocked right out of him.

He turned on an old Master Chef and ate in silence. It wasn’t until a sweaty bottle of root beer was placed in his hand that he noticed Maria hadn’t sat beside him yet.

She was standing off to the side, and it suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks that she was trying to give him space.

Larger than life Maria DeLuca was making herself small for him, and that wouldn’t do.

He knew she meant well, but it made him feel shittier.

“I promise I don’t bite,” he went for a light joke, but it fell flat.

“No, you don’t,” Maria finally sat beside him, and his body relaxed. “You don’t need to make me feel comfortable, Kyle. I just wanted to give you space.”

Her hand entwined with his, and they sat in silence. But then it switched to Master Chef Juniors, and he lost it.

A toothy 10-year-old, eerily reminiscent of his patient, smiled into the camera. To his utter embarrassment, he began sobbing.

“He was only seven,” he sputtered. His voice was choked up and every attempt to rein himself in failed. “He loved wrestling and Spiderman. He wanted to be a fireman when he grew …” he couldn’t finish – cut off by his own sob.

He felt her shift closer, her arms wrapped around him tight enough to stop the onslaught of anxious breathing.

He buried his face into her neck, his embarrassment abandoned in favor of the full-body release of his sadness, anger, and pain.

Maria clicked her tongue, rocked him gently, and brushed her lips across his temple and damp hair.

“I’m s-sorry,” he choked out, aware of how he was dampening her neck and shirt with tears and God knows what else.

“Shhhh,” she hummed soothingly. “Talk it through. It’s OK if I don’t understand the procedure; just talk it through.”

He ran through the entire surgical procedure. Every step leading up to Levi’s surgery and every tool he used.

Maria stopped him on occasion to confirm it was the proper protocol, the proper utensil, and so on. When he was done, she made him repeat it all over again.

They were settled into the couch by then, his head resting on her chest wedged beneath her chin.

She scratched at his scalp, and at some point, his tears subsided, and his breathing matched hers.

“You did everything right, Kyle,” she said after a while. 

“Bless that sweet baby’s soul and his parents. You didn’t make any mistakes. There’s nothing else you could’ve done. He had the best care by the best doctor until he closed his eyes, and he went peacefully. Mourn him, but don’t let it eat away at you.”

He nodded. Knowing the truth and hearing the truth were two different things.

At some point, he felt he should have extricated himself from her embrace, but a selfish, lonely part of him relished the comfort.

As if reading his mind, like the psychic she proclaimed to be, she hugged him tighter.

Her heartbeat lulled him into the soundest sleep he had in months.

When he woke up, he was hugging a pillow that still smelled of her. it was a quarter past two.

He scanned the room bleary-eyed, the throw tossed over him tumbling to the floor with the effort.

The blinking on his cellphone let him know he had a text.

Had to run. Rest up and start again tomorrow. ♡

He shuffled into his room and fell onto his bed. He expected to feel a wave of regret and embarrassment, but it never came.

Instead, he felt unburdened.

vi.

He didn’t sign up for this. Him, Liz, Rosa, Alex, and Maria. None of them did.

But extraterrestrial bullshit invaded their lives, and they made do with it. Whether it was love and feelings or a birthright, the alien fight became their own.

But they weren’t resistant to attacks. They weren’t immune. They were fragile and susceptible.

They weren’t soldiers; they were humans. Assets. Liabilities. Victims.

Rosa was a victim once. It was something he fought to make peace with, and that took a long time. But now she was a victim too.

Flashes of the past two days flickered through his mind like an old film.

Another survivor from the crash was in their midst. What began as a tenuous partnership to help revive Max turned into lines drawn and a declaration of war.

All wars have casualties, and Maria was nearly one.

He couldn’t shake the image of Michael carrying her lifeless body across the desert.

It was the most distraught he had seen him since the prison explosion. Liz and Rosa flanked his sides.

Alex and Max were closing in behind them. There was blood everywhere.

He did what he could to stop the bleeding while Michael sped to the hospital.

He worked on her all the way to the OR, straddled over her form on the gurney willing her to live.

He physically fought his colleagues trying to rip him away.

As a general rule, no one is supposed to work on family and friends, but some rules were meant to be broken.

He couldn’t leave that OR if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to. There was no way in hell he could sit idly by when he could help.

He left the questions to his mother and Max. They could sort out the stories on their end, and he could do everything in his power to make sure his friend came out of it on the other side on his end.

He hadn’t slept in two days. He hadn’t left the hospital. He barely left her room at all.

He couldn’t lose anyone else. He got a second chance with Rosa, but second chances were anomalies, not the norm.

He rubbed his temples, closed his eyes and sighed.

“Y-you,” Maria croaked before clearing her throat with no success. “You look like shit, Valenti.”

She coughed and laughed at the same time before her body alerted her that both were a terrible idea. “Oww!” She groaned.

He was at her bedside in two long strides. His body relaxed for the first time in days as he poured her a cup of water and smiled fondly with utter relief as she drank it greedily.

“Take it easy,” he cooed, as he stroked her hair.

“I’m assuming I have a couple of cracked ribs?” She asked, her voice raspy.

“You would assume correctly.” He looked down on her and smiled. “I want to tell you that you look like shit too, but it would be a lie.”

“Flattery … will get you … everywhere,” she rasped as she tried to get comfortable. “Although …”

He scanned the machines and checked her vitals, and signaled the nurse that she was awake.

“Although, what?”

“Although, I briefly remember you on top of me, and…” she ran her fingers across the bandage on her chest. “You lucky bastard, you already saw me naked,” she joked.

“Ah. But the circumstances weren’t like I imagined. It would require a do-over.” He moved out of the way for the nurse to check out Maria.

After what seemed to be an eternity she left urging him to let Maria rest and get some himself.

“You imagined me?” It was like Maria to pick up where they left off.

He felt his face heat up.

“You scared the crap out of us, Maria,” he plopped on the bed and grabbed her hand.

“Nice swerve, Kyle, but I’ll allow it,” she squeezed his hand back. “Where is everyone?”

Her voice was small, and he wondered if she had an irrational fear that no one else showed up for her.

“I texted them that you were awake,” he replied running his fingers feather-light against the pulse in her wrist.

“Visiting hours are over, but almost everyone has been here,” he fretted over her. He knew he was doing it, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Almost everyone?” She looked wary. He could tell she already had her suspicions before he could confirm.

“Michael was thrown out two days ago,” he couldn’t hide his annoyance mentioning the most volatile of their pod squad acquaintances.

“He was too … aggressive. Others were complaining. He couldn’t be reined in. He really cares about you, you know?”

“I know,” she shook her head.

“And Rosa wasn’t happy that she couldn’t come,” he flashed back to how volatile his half-sister was. Max’s apartment was probably a wreck.

“Which one of them slugged you?” Maria ran her bandaged hand with the IV across his jawline.

“Rosa has a mean right hook,” he admitted not hiding how impressed he was by that.

“She always did,” Maria agreed. “How’s that going?”

“Still adjusting, I guess.”

“To know you is to love you, Kyle. She’ll come around,” she squeezed her eyes shut tight and exhaled slowly.

“Are you in pain? I can get you some more–”

“I’m fine, Kyle. I don’t need anything. I’m probably going to wish that alien bastard had finished the job when I get the medical bills though,” she blinked back tears and forced herself to smile.

“Maria –”

“Go figure, I got probed and in none of the fun ways. Stabbed in the chest by glowing alien paraphernalia and left to die in a cave is not how I expected to go. I’m guessing Max still can’t tap into his healing powers?”

He wanted to say so much – comfort her better, but he settled for going along with her topic change. “No, Max is still blocked. But Michael tried to heal you,” he met her eyes and shrugged.

“But Michael can’t heal…” her confusion was almost endearing to him.

“Didn’t stop him from trying,” he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He was still fretting and busying himself. “You had a close one. We thought we lost you twice, and none of us can bear losing anyone.

He was tired, and doctor mode bled into friend mode. He didn’t realize he was pulling back her gown and checking her bandage.

Her surgical wounds would heal nicely, if he said so himself. He secured the bandage tight, poked and prodded until he was satisfied.

At her cough he yanked out his stethoscope and listened, nodding to himself after confirming her breathing was fine.

He flashed a light in her eyes, studied her pupils and ignored her scrutiny.

He knew he looked like hell, bloodshot eyes, and dark circles around them. He hadn’t shaved in days, his dark stubble uncharacteristic. His hair was matted except for the tufts he mussed from constantly running his fingers through his hair.

“When’s the last time you slept, Kyle?” She asked innocently enough.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Remember? I do this for a living.”

She raised her brow but dropped it. “What’s my prognosis, doc?”

“You look good,” he replied, his voice soft and worn even to his own ears. “You had a concussion, but we kept an eye on it. Your surgical incision looks good. You’ll barely have a scar.”

“Scars mean you lived – they mean you survived,” she replied.

“Yeah,” he rubbed his thumb across her hairline. “Yeah, they do. Vital organs were missed, so that’s –”

“When do I get out of here, Kyle?”

Leave it to Maria to get to the bottom line. It killed him that even then, her concern was financing. They probably didn’t require exceptional healthcare on whatever planet the others derived from.

“If you promise to take off and settle in at home, preferably somewhere with room and a simple floor plan, then I’ll get you out.”

Max’s spacious home came to mind, but there was also the cabin or even his apartment.

“But you need to rest, Maria.”

“Pot meet kettle, Kyle. Pot meet kettle.” She shuffled in the bed and winced and gasped in pain.

His jaw clenched as he bit back a sharp reprimand. She patted a spot on the bed beside her and raised her brow.

“Maria,” he started, too tired to argue with her but gearing up for one anyway.

“Don’t,” she glared at him. “Just for a little bit, please.”

She didn’t want to be alone. He understood that.

“Just for a little while,” he ignored her triumphant smirk. She acted as if she didn’t have a knack for making people bend to her will.

He slid beside her. The hospital bed was more comfortable than he cared to admit. He checked her vitals again, slid his arm beneath her, and gingerly pulled her into his chest.

It was a small enough bed where snuggling was the only option. She didn’t seem to mind. She burrowed herself into him.

He tucked the covers around her and double-checked to make sure her water pitcher was full. When she thought she hid a grimace, he upped her morphine drip.

He felt her soft laugh reverberate through him and how she shook her head infinitesimally.

“What?” He yawned. “Do I even want to know?”

“Always fretting,” she patted his hand gently. “You’re always taking care of everyone, but who takes care of you?”

He wanted to laugh. Instead, he rested his head on hers. He allowed her warmth and the sound of the heart monitor to lull him into a sleepy daze.

His eyelids were heavy, his voice husky with exhaustion as his lips barely grazed the shell of her ear.

“You, Maria.” He could tell he caught her by surprise. Her breath hitched, and admittedly, it made him smile.

 "It’s always you,“ he whispered as he finally drifted off to sleep.

—-

[sepiadice]

NavyDice Campaign (2019/8/30): Poor use of Apples

So I was sitting about, attempting to play more Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Due to a pleasant kismet, it was my first day off of four in a row. I was also awake until Four AM being sick, so it was a mixed sort of day.

Anyways, I suddenly got a text from NavyDice[1] asking if I was up to play Dungeons & Dragons in about ninety minutes, at a location I hadn’t yet visited that was a half to full hour away (depending on traffic).

So obviously I agreed. Because I’m desperate and IndigoDice’s campaign has apparently fallen.[2]

So I got the address, plugged it into the Google Maps app, and went off, listening to a Dungeon World Actual Play podcast episode,[3] brainstorming my character since my original plan to transfer Autumn Quill over had to be abandoned due to everyone else playing a spellcaster.

So time to experiment with other new things. Like using the full strength of the Souvenir Mug Rule!

Anyways, this new campaign features three members of the improv group (Navy[4] GMing, as well as GoldDice[5] and LimeDice[6]) plus a friend of NavyDice who we’ll assign the nickname… Tetrahedron.[8]

In true NavyDice fashion, prepare for time shenanigans!

CAST

Acer ‘Maple’ Palmatum (SepiaDice/Me) Level 5 Elf Fighter. I recalled this image while brainstorming, and decided to just run with it.[9] While making the character, I’d decided she had a military history and a desire to help the helpless. Also likes cute things. We’ll see if any of that pays off. I’d give her a Scottish accent if I could remember to do character voices. As she’s named for a tree, her given name is probably actually ‘Palmatum’.

Garland (LimeDice) A spellcaster of some sort? 

Poppi (GoldDice) Another spellcaster, who used Intelligence and Wisdom as her dump stats so… there’s concerns?

Mumble (Tetrahedron) Bard. Talks very quiet, as is his namesake.

Once characters were complete, we took turns inventing a brief history of the party and why we’re hanging out together.

For the actual campaign, we heard of a job dealing with a band of brigands bothering a town. We travel there and meet with the local marshall, Masem, who is grateful for our help.

The party rents a place at a bed & breakfast and waits to be needed.

So we open on the party doing small things that reveal character. Garland is reading a book. Poppi is mesmerized by a pretty mobile that was hanging about. (I forget what Mumble was doing). Maple is doing push ups.

A knock comes on the door. It’s Masem. The brigands are coming to attack the market space. Maple follows the marshall, the squishier party members follow behind.

In the market, Masem and Maple pose as they wait for the brigands to arrive. Garland and Mumble position themselves for optimal support. Poppi gets distracted by apples, and failing to purchase them since everyone else ran.

Combat ensues. The first wave of six brigands fall to sword and spell, and a second wave (featuring a very definite midboss) arrives, and similarly gets cut down.

As the citizenry start to celebrate, Maple hears a ticking coming from the midboss.

After a short back and forth between me and NavyDice to determine if Maple would know the concept of a bomb, we determine she wouldn’t immediately come to that conclusion. Maple investigates the midboss, and discovers he has a vest under his shirt with many magic scrolls that are starting to autocast. I decide that’s enough information to follow my initial instinct, and Maple shouts for people to run.

Maple attempts to scoop Poppi up, but fails the strength check, kinda ruining the moment but whatever.

Most of the town’s out of the blast range as the scrolls deploy in a massive fireball. Once the smoke clears, Maple removes her excess equipment and gets to work cleaning rubble and moving bodies. The local lord rides a carriage down to thank the heroes (our party) and announce a feast. Maple irritably asks him why his bodyguards aren’t helping with disaster response, and the lord sends the guards to do so.

The rest of the party goes to enjoy the celebratory feast the lord was announcing, but Maple stays until the work is done. I’d decided to play her as a Capital-Aytch Hero, so that’s what I’m sticking to, possibly to my occasional detriment.

Eventual she notices those helping the effort beginning to get awkwardly antsy to attend the feast, but don’t want to leave before one of the people who just saved the market from brigands. So Maple relents and leaves for the party, probably with plenty of soot on her.[10]

Everyone’s gathered at the feast, medals are awarded, toasts are started, all that stuff ceremony that Maple lost a taste for due to her time serving in a military.[11]

Then the church bells ring, and a darkness envelops the town, killing everyone.

Cycle 2

There’s a knocking on the front door.

Ah, so Navy is repeating a campaign he’s told me the story of. I decide not to beat around the bush and just let Maple be immediately be on the ball. Call it battle-won instincts of quickly reading the situation.

Maple answers the door and tries to inform Masem about the groundhog day loop we’ve entered, but the marshall is too concerned by the brigands to listen. Maple instead runs off to the market without listening to the mission text.

This time, she intends to save more people.

This time, she’s not going to waste time with the random mooks.

This time, Maple heads straight to the mid-boss with the bomb vest. If she can stop him before he gets to the marketplace, maybe she can mitigate the damage.

However, running towards the guy triggers some attacks of opportunity[12] from the generic brigands, but Maple ignores them. They don’t matter.

However, when she’s facing Bomb-Vest and the brigands flanking him, their combined attacks do drop her to exactly zero, and Maple falls and I begin making death saves.

Then Poppi decides it’d be hilarious to throw an apple at me. Tetrahedron points out that any damage taken while in this state means autodeath, so GoldDice rolls to hit.

And succeeds. Killing Maple with an apple. My friends, readers!

So I’m out of the cycle, and tune out because I’m an inattentive jerk and wanted to try and find the visual reference for my character.[13]

Eventually, the brigands are felled through a method that nearly kills Mumble, the local lord rides his coach down for easy publicity points as he rewards our party and mourns the fallen, there will be a feast, Maple will be given a hero’s funeral, and other familiar notes.

Some investigation might’ve occurred? I think mostly it was just a tad more somber because Maple died.

Then the church bells ring, and a darkness envelops the town, killing everyone.

Cycle 3

There’s a knocking on the door.

Okay, this time the party’s a little smarter. Mumble uses Leomund’s Tiny Hut to contain the explosion, and only he and Bomb Vest dies.

Okay, successfully saved the innocents. Maple takes the time to fill Masem in, who is skeptical despite magic being real so such temporal shenanigans shouldn’t be out of possibility. But using the evidence of (limited) precognition, Maple gets him to accept that maybe this is a thing that happens.

Masem gets called away to a crime scene, and Maple and Garland invite themselves along. Because information is important, and you don’t know what’s relevant.[14] Poppi goes to church, because… well, out of character, to investigate the church bells. In character, Poppi thinks its the Lord’s Day.

Someone blew a hole in the side of a vault, then a second one to escape. Masem investigates with the help of player characters who do what they want by virtue of being player characters.

We manage to, through the powers of basic deductive reasoning and basicer math, figure out which safety deposit box was emptied despite the bank manager’s attempts to be as unhelpful as possible.

Masem gets called away to officiate an execution. Maple assigns Garland to stay back and keep investigating as she keeps following Masem to learn what his day’s like.

Garland and two to three town guards (played by NavyDice, Tetrahedron, and myself)[15] do some more investigation of the vault, before eventually finding and descending into… either the showers or just inexplicable underground tunnels. The guards banter about why they’re taking orders from this random spellcaster guy, how this is an obvious horror movie set-up, how Garland’s orders to split up flies in the face of local bards tales of Scoobert Doobert and the company of mystery,[16] and other fun. They die there when the cycle ends.

Maple follows Masem away, and learns they are hanging the leader of the brigands they’ve been fighting. Which is fun.[20]

Public death spectacle concluded, Maple and Masem go to attend the lord’s feast. Maple notices Masem getting called away for some new distraction, but she decides not to push her luck in case observing it would affect it, and because she’d inserted herself a lot into Masem’s day as is.

Then the church bells ring, and a darkness envelops the town, killing everyone.

Cycle 4

There’s a knock on the door.

The rest of the party wants to regroup and discuss. Maple wants to save people and immediately rushes off, ignoring pleas that people dying don’t matter.

Instead of helping, Garland and Mumble decide to investigate the bank early, and Poppi hangs out at the church belltower to watch what happens in the market.

I roll percentile to determine Maple’s fate. 08. So, due to negligence by the rest of the party (again), Maple dies. Again. As does Masem. And a bunch of innocent standerbys. And also the lord’s manor via explosion I think? I was still trying to find that piece of art. Which I found used as a gentle nudge to the rest of the table that Maple’s a girl. Cut, but still obviously feminine.

Anyways, no one gets to learn what Maple learned yesterday, because screw them, they left her and everyone else to die, and Maple doesn’t write off anyone if there’s a chance to save them.

And there’s always a chance.[21]

Anyways, Poppi spends the day observing while Garland and Mumble annoy a bank clerk, find the brigands hideout, and Mumble convinces one of them he’s a god.

When Maple dies, I use it as an opportunity to take a break and look through social media. Tempers out of character knowledge and lets me take a break from being Permanently ‘On’ for hours at a time.[24]

Eventually, the church bells ring, and a darkness envelops the town, killing everyone.

So ends the first session.

I’m excited for the rest of the campaign, though I am (progressively) remembering details from the last time NavyDice ran it, so hopefully that doesn’t ruin the fun. Especially since I’m super excited to play Maple, and I don’t want to add her to the list of characters who deserve a second chance.[25]

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.

-

[1] Who has not formally adopted the ColourDice naming convention, but does have a D&D Instagram? [2] I’ve got plans for that group, however, so stay tuned. [3] Concluded my prejudices against Powered by the Apocalypse is true and I will never willingly touch it. [4] Previously credited as Lyons. [5] Previously credited as Maddie. [6] Previously credited as Jose. He assigned himself the color green, but my brother took that color and I couldn’t convince him to pick something more specific. I rudely haven’t consulted Jose on the reassignment. He can yell at me if he reads this.[7] [7] No one reads these. [8] I’ll figure out a consistent guest player naming convention one of these essays. [9] Next time: glasses. Maybe. [10] There’s an amount of Vimes in this character. Actually, Maple may turn out to just be Sam Vimes. Which I’m okay with, even if I want to play her with an amount of bloodthirsty glee when fighting bad guys… [11] For once, 5e’s dumb background rules actually helped flesh out my character in a satisfying manner. [12] A mechanic I don’t think has ever added fun to D&D. It always feels petty. [13] Which took hours to find! But the references are saved to my phone now. [14] Hint: anything the GM draws attention to is relevant. [15] Always allow players to play NPCs so they can take the mickey out of other players. [16] GM tip! Always let real world media exist in universe. Makes it easier to make references, and justifying it is a lot of fun![17] [17] GM tip! Regardless, someone will always be confused by the concept of sandwiches due to the apocryphal tales of John Montagu, despite insisting sandwiches only existing since the 18th century is ridiculous, and evidence of similar food arrangement has existed long before the famed event.[18] [18] There was a tedious argument with the High School group that I’m apparently still annoyed by. But Good Eats has my back, so I’m confident.[19] [19] While my footnotes are cascading, I’ve been humoring the concept of a ‘Adventurer’s Cookbook’. Which would likely just be a camping cookbook with genre writing as flavor, and the recipes arranged in esculating terms of difficulty. [20] Not actually fun. [21] One of this campaign’s experiments: using the ‘It’s what my character would do’ defense. Because I like to try and justify things.[22] [22] Maybe someday I’ll experiment with justifying Failure to Communicate and Teacher/Pupil relationships.[23] [23] Because, to be clear, I really hate both. [24] GM tip! Let players (and GMs) take breaks. Either by pausing the game, or letting there be lulls where portions of the table can get away from losing focus and think about Other Things. [25] A list that includes Trix and Teddi.

[ionchef]

King of Anything - An Escaflowne Fanfiction

A/N: Because I can never stop when I’m having fun, I decided to continue this fic. Right now, I’ve about 13 Chapters outlined but who knows what all I still come up with. If you prefer to read on FFN, you probably know how to find it there.

A huge 'Thank you' goes out to Meghanna Starsong, my sharpest and friendliest critic, who has once again been instrumental in assisting me with this outline (which is still under construction).

King of Anything

Act 1, Chapter 2

In which Van finally gets his coffee but Escaflowne disapproves.

Fanelia's raven-haired king took similar, if not more, care whilst slipping out of the palace this time. His disguise was, once again, pivotal to the success of this little excursion. Granted, it was only the second time he was perusing it but it seemed as though the scheme could be a way of offering him a much-needed breather from now on when necessary.

Someone cleared their throat and it sounded as if amplified through a can due to the nature of the source, then hollered against the marble floor and walls. The sound demanded immediate attention and emanated clear disapproval. Van froze in mid-step down the deserted hallway just outside the royal apartments. Ah but of course. He had nearly forgotten the grouchy sentry who now never was too far away.

Almost like a puppy, he usually followed Van around unless otherwise instructed. Turning, the king peered at the robot who had stepped away from his guard post. Van was already mildly annoyed because for the better part of the day he had been trailed by hordes of foreign and Fanelian members of the royal council. Sure, he usually had a daily agenda anyway but this week was especially busy for various reasons.

The sentry in question, Escaflowne, had been in every ruling king's possession since the early days of Fanelian history. Purchased from the mysterious and elusive Ispano folk, the machine was a masterfully crafted protector and weapon. Considered a patron deity way back when, now more like a champion of Fanelia, Escaflowne had been rebooted again. Much unlike other melefs here, Asturia, Freid, Zaibach, or other countries south of the Big Seas, Escaflowne was unique.

The machine was tied to the king of Fanelia through a blood pact. To operate, it required the heart of a dragon. A drag energist had to be obtained by the worthy heir and that meant hunting and slaying one of the beasts. Escaflowne could only be activated this way and his service always ended, well, when the king ended. While other melefs were nothing more than drones, programmed to defend or perform manual labor, Escaflowne had a life and intelligence of his own.

"Going somewhere?"

Much to the occasional dismay of his master.

Escaflowne's eyes glowed in what seemed like amusement through the slit of the robot's helmet. While he had resembled a knight in traditional Fanelian samurai armor in some shape or form for generations before, his appearance had been thoroughly updated by the Ispano prior to this activation.

It was part of the service agreement to keep him under a lifetime warranty and up to the newest standards of Ispano technology. Improvements had been made which increased Escaflowne's degrees of freedom, allowed for more variety in his end effectors, as well as extended reach, payload, and repeatability.

"In a poor disguise unlikely to fool anyone, no less."

Together with an update of his behavioral characteristics befitting a more modern Gaea.

"Your father would highly disapprove."

And his internal memory storage, which had been expanded through another chip to add on to the centuries of knowledge stored away inside of him.

The machine towered over any human by a good three feet. His chassis was covered entirely by Ispano white, metal armor in mostly rectangular panels. The updated look still incorporated two diamond-shaped receptacles for green energists on each shoulder and one octagonal receptacle for the main energist on the left side of his breastplate, where a human's heart would be. This energist was the special one, the one Van had collected from the corpse of the dragon.

Escaflowne stood a few feet away from him, scowling as Van resumed on his way. Despite the king's current mood, it was good to have Escaflowne back. The last time the sentry had been in operation was during his father's reign over the country but it felt different now with him being the one to command it.

He still wasn't completely used to this monarch gig, burdened with decisions which affected not just him but everybody else in the kingdom. Although there were enough resources for advice in the form of an eager council -too many resources at times, really- he always put a great deal of thought into the consequences for each decision. Sure, he had been educated and prepared well for years but now it was real. It had felt different when Balgus was the steward of Fanelia, bound to rule within the tight guidelines set by ancient laws until the rightful heir finally claimed his throne.

"No need to follow," Van answered courtly and as an afterthought he added "don't wait up," while tossing his suit jacket with the Fanelian crest on the breast pocket towards the robot. Escaflowne's arm moved in a circular motion type to reflexively catch the garment. While it wasn't uncommon for patriotic people to sport the diamond-shaped insignia with the dragon wings on clothing items, it would probably be better to not wear it right now.

The king's daily attire had finally been given a major overhaul. Pomp and gaudiness had been toned down which allowed for more relaxed-fitting suits. Especially when it came to the damn tight collars and the amount of embroidery, as well as more dark colors instead of screaming, royal red. While Van casually made his way further down the hallway, Escaflowne's steps and robotic voice echoed behind him. "I'm compelled to inform you how absolutely terrible of an idea…"

Closing the heavy fire door to the emergency exit behind himself, the machine's last few words were muffled considerably. While Escaflowne's primary objective was to protect the royal family and Fanelian citizens from harm, the robot's programming was still slaved to Van's commands. He sighed in relief and descended the old, slightly uneven stone steps of the narrow staircase. The main structure of the palace was still original but plenty of renovations over the last decades had altered the overall appearance just like the rest of the city.

Old-town Fanelia close by the palace and the palace itself were reminiscent of the ancient, historical architecture the most. The core structures of most buildings were made from solid stone cut from massive boulders by stonemasons in centuries long past. In centuries long past when men rode into battle on the backs of Yerkle and no walls protected the citizens from the fury of dragons native to this part of Gaea.

Now, many, many lifetimes later, the original houses and storefronts had been modernized with materials such as glass and steel whenever alterations or renovations were performed. As the largest structure, the royal palace still remained the focal point. Built atop of a high plateau, the natural terrain of the mountain slopes it sat on was enforced with another protective, metal layer which doubled as the last line of defense for those inhabiting the palace. Luckily, the armament hiding inside the casing had never seen the light of day since it had been installed by Van's great-grandfather.

A bit further outward from old-town, the foundations of the first wall were still visible in some places as a concentric circle closer to the palace. The wall had been torn down several times to make room for a prosperous, growing city to provide more space. Each time it had been relocated, it had been rebuilt with upgraded materials or updated as time passed and more modern ways for defense emerged. Further north-east, a tall mountain range with sharp peaks enclosed the city from the back like a natural barrier.

It took a while for Van to make his way out of the palace although avoiding people who were more accustomed to seeing him in a less formal state proved to be suspiciously easy. Nobody seemed to even pay attention to him. Turns out, Escaflowne's worries were very unfounded. His disguise was downright impeccable! As he strode across the courtyard, a radio blared pop music from the guard post not far off.

Royal security guards were hardly alert, talking to each other about upcoming plans for days off and some such stuff. One of the larger men in royal crimson enthusiastically tapped his booted foot to the beat of the music and mimicked the female singer's voice with his own high-pitched falsetto. It made Van cringe a bit.

The courtyard was fairly wide, originally intended for military formations back in the day or ceremonies such as coronations, parades, weddings, and whatnot. He was passing the round, blue and white flower mosaic in the center of it shortly after. The one he'd kneeled on while being crowned king not long ago. That ceremony had also been annoyingly stiff and followed a bunch of ancient rituals. Really though. Were other kingdoms still so backward too when it came to all this?

It'd been a while since he and Merle had last gone on any diplomatic trips but he was pretty sure the heir of, say, Egzardia wasn't required to wear a full-on armor complete with helmet and cape at their coronation. On the other hand, there was also a good chance they didn't consider a razor-sharp samurai sword to be the ruling symbol of their monarch. The sword itself and the art of wielding it in training, Van had always appreciated but actually using it in combat, to kill something, was so very different than anything could have prepared him for.

The royal sword was an heirloom passed down through generations and the thought of holding something which tied him to the long line of kings before him filled Van with pride. The sword was, without a doubt, his most valuable possession.

Thing is, it should have been Folken's. His brother, who had for some reason failed at passing the rite of dragon slaying. Even after tossing the issue around in his head for years, Van couldn't figure out what had happened. There'd never been any rescue missions or search parties either. On this quest, the heir to the throne was on his own. If he died, he died. Not the best odds considering what they were up against but customs wouldn't allow someone to rule if they weren't worthy.

One would think this whole ordeal with Escaflowne, slaying a dragon by hand, and the energist made zero sense. Why would a king well-versed in mortal sword combat need a machine such as Escaflowne? Kind of pointless, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, the Ispano had been instrumental in ensuring that Fanelia was well guarded before a wall had first been constructed. A king responsible for protecting his citizens needed a badass sidekick after all. Before him, Escaflowne had been under his father's command. The robot remembered Van from the time he'd been active then but after Goau Fanel was taken by a deadly disease, Escaflowne went into a temporary idle state until Van awakened it with the new energist.

The sentry had recognized him immediately after activation, had memory storage devoted to Van and all their interactions but now, due to the upgrades and change in ownership, the mood between them was something else. Maybe it was also due to the altered settings in Escaflowne's software or whatever it was the machine operated on now. Obviously, Ispano technology had made progress in the last years again but what the robot's inner workings looked like, only they knew.

For the most part, Van supposed Escaflowne's endoskeleton was made similarly to the melef drones which guarded armored mining convoys traveling beyond the wall each day. So yes, people did go outside daily but it was only specially trained workers who stayed on established and guarded routes. Nobody in their right mind would deviate from that.

Thankfully, it had been weeks since the last dragon incident outside. Even then, those drones programmed to protect the armored vehicle convoys had been able to take care of it. Dragons were fierce but not immortal. They favored the climate in this part of Gaea and only very few strayed into other regions.

For this reason, Fanelia was home to the only dragon graveyards on the charted globe which made it the prime exporter for drag energists. Since a good part of Gaean technology operated on this power source, the small country of Fanelia was a critically important member of international trade proceedings.

That's also why so many countries had diplomatic reps residing in Fanelia. Good relations with the only source for drag energist power was essential.

Van never understood why his ancestors had chosen to set up camp here so long ago before modern technology was even a thing. Who builds a city in the most dragon-infested piece of this continent? His people, apparently. Sure, history books had been shoved under his nose just as soon as he'd been able to read. Not that they weren't interesting but a bit more freedom to choose other material would have been nice every now and again.

But there was no use in griping about it now. His heritage, the throne, while the general public and the paparazzi made it seem all kinds of extravagant, required a great deal of self-sacrifice. The only reason Van really never griped about it too much was that he truly cared for his people. His pride of country, even though dragon-infested, prevailed above all. And, of course, the love for his adopted sister.

Merle had joined the family when Van was so small he couldn't recall a time without her around. Not that he wanted to. Sassy and opinionated as she was, his sister was an anchor to normal life in the palace. A palace so big it sometimes felt like he'd get metaphorically and literally lost. He even still felt this way now as a man in his early twenties.

Actually, he felt like that especially while passing through the massive wrought iron gate, the entrance and exit which lead to a wide staircase flanked by two sets of elevators on either side. It was the main and only convenient way to get on and off the palace plateau. People were already lined up to leave after a day of diplomatic games at court. Men in suits carrying briefcases and women in modest dresses and heels with large purses.

Some looked tired but happy to leave, waiting to get to their homes down in the city, the royal court only a place of business, unlike for Van. After all, the king worked and lived here. That's why he needed a bit of a break. Some time to himself. Right now!

Nobody ever took the stairs, especially not up. Except before there were elevators, of course. It took about five minutes of walking to get all the way down and climbing the stairs was an entirely different workout altogether. Van didn't mind, especially not because it meant his chances for being recognized by an observant council member were pretty much slim to none. Again, not that anybody was even looking. They probably all thought he either worked here too or was the stuck-up son of a diplomat. All the better for him.

The only area where he encountered a few people again was towards the bottom where pedestrians sometimes liked to hang out. The narrow cobblestone streets of old town around the palace were popular with hip, young people for taking pictures, sometimes with the palace way up as a backdrop. Some of them liked to sit on the stairs to eat ice cream or drink a cup of coffee from one of the chains along the small square. A cup of coffee like the young man he was passing. A sub-par coffee served in a disposable to-go cup.

Van wrinkled his nose. Nope, he needed the real thing. A coffee brewed from freshly roasted beans that didn't come from an industrial-sized machine made to satisfy the craving of hordes of people every day. Good coffee required love and care in preparation and was served in a ceramic mug. A rather large one, if at all possible. Could he have gotten a stellar cup of coffee in the kitchens at the palace? Yeah, sure but it defied the purpose. He just wanted to feel carefree for a bit and that wasn't going to happen up there.

In that quaint shop not too long ago, he had gotten a very homey vibe and that wasn't just because the young woman behind the counter had basically halfway undressed him as if it was their shared home they'd been in. Van's steps slowed a bit at the thought and he paused at the mouth of the familiar, narrow alley. So full of drive to get there and redeem the promise of a cup of that steaming hot nectar of life had he been that he had forgotten all about the rather…scandalous incident weeks ago.

Some mad luck it was that nobody but him, her, and Balgus seemed to know about it. It would have been the headline of the month and he hated being on the cover of those paparazzi magazines.

Too late for second thoughts. The air was already redolent with the rich aroma of dark roast, the scent stealing out through the cracked door of the little, old coffee shop only a short distance away. It was enveloping Van, beckoning him closer to the source. The dark magic spell was just too strong. He wasted no time in making his way there albeit still wary of what would happen if she was really there again.

The little bell Balgus had abused so violently gave a bit of a muted ding when he entered. There was a small crowd of other customers this time but sure enough, a mop of short honey-colored hair was visible behind the heads in front of him. Not a long line but a few people, just like him, obviously still appreciated the slow pace of a little mom and pop coffee shop like this. These people didn't rush through life but instead took the time to sit down and enjoy the simple pleasure of savoring a cup of fresh brew.

The line moved only slowly but it didn't bother anyone as everyone patiently awaited the careful attention given by…what was her name again?

"Hitomi!"

Right.

"Hey, Yukari," Hitomi cheerfully greeted a redheaded woman in green scrubs in front of Van. "Nice of you to stop by. Do you just want the usual?"

"Yes but make it a triple shot of espresso, pretty please. I need it badly," the woman named Yukari responded while stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

"You got it," Hitomi promised and got to work.

Van could see a bit better now. She looked just the same but was in a pair of jeans and a white shirt under the green apron. His palms became a bit sweaty and the cheek she had administered the impressive slap to tingled all of the sudden. Damn. Maybe he should leave.

Of course, right at that moment she turned around and placed the large cup and saucer in front of the redhead on the counter and saw him. Her eyes flickered to the side briefly, then widened in recognition.

Yukari liked to stop by the little coffee shop Hitomi worked at on the way home whenever she could. They didn't always have the same shifts at the teaching hospital. Of course, having a hookup for the best coffee money could buy was an incentive to come here above all.

Hitomi turned away from the back counter and served her friend but then almost dropped the cup when she saw who was standing behind her. What in the seven hells…

Her eyes widened and her brows shot up. Was this really?

Yep, it definitely was. No other than the king of Fanelia, incognito again and looking like a young business professional in dark navy slacks and a white button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to just under his elbows. He was next in line after her best friend and roommate. With his raven hair disheveled and wearing the same mirrored shades again, he looked too effortlessly handsome to be completely inconspicuous. Hitomi's heart skipped a beat when he raised a finger and placed it on his lips, motioning for her to keep his presence a secret.

His lips. The sight made her heart skip another beat and her hands went cold. All of this happened in a matter of seconds so Yukari seamlessly accepted the cup from Hitomi before she squealed so suddenly it forced Hitomi to direct her undivided attention back to her.

"I almost forgot!" Yukari trilled full of excitement. "Amano's brother will be in Fanelia later this week and you won't believe it but he said he could get us into the Mystic Moon!"

The Mystic Moon was Fanelia's hippest and most extravagant nightclub. It was named after the phantom moon visible in Gaea's sky behind its smaller twin. Neither of them had ever been there because it was nearly impossible for normal folks to get in. It was a ritzy place for rich people and kids of diplomats to party the night away.

No wonder Yukari was excited. It wasn't that Hitomi didn't like to dance or go out to party. She did. But the thought of spending a well-deserved evening trying to unwind and have a good time in the company of people she wouldn't normally have anything to do with made her feel a bit weird. Not like they were likely to schmooze with Fanelia's high-society. These people could probably tell from a mile away that their clothing wasn't name brand and that this definitely wasn't their normal stomping ground.

Well, at least she'd have Yukari and Amano. After the day she had walked in on them making out, they had finally declared their relationship status as official. The fact that they were all roommates luckily didn't have to change even after that. They had known each other long enough but walking in on them practically piled on top of each other had been an unexpected shocker.

Yukari's now-boyfriend, Amano, who was one year their senior, had been in Fanelia already a few months before they came and started college. He had been an accomplished athlete in Asturia and gotten multiple offers for sports scholarships from colleges around Gaea, then ultimately chosen to move to Fanelia and pursue an education in engineering and whatever else that entailed.

Although Amano and Allen were twin brothers, they had always had different styles and interests so Hitomi and Yukari never got to know him well. Especially not after moving halfway across the continent. Allen had opted for a completely different line of work and was now the head of security to Asturia's princess, Millerna Aston. If Allen was going to be here, that meant princess Millerna was likely the reason for his upcoming presence.

"We need to talk outfits later tonight!" Yukari was already beginning to scheme.

"Sounds like fun," Hitomi lied successfully and watched Yukari nod and motion to a table in the corner.

"Don't want to hold up your line. I'll be right here, reviewing a few pages in our beloved tome of anatomy while you work." Yukari said while already moving towards it.

Hitomi held her breath when her friend turned and nearly bumped into the tall man behind her. She briefly looked at him and smiled while shuffling past him. "S'cuse me."

"Ok great," Hitomi acknowledged her friend while already face to face with the dark-haired man who had been patiently looming behind her best friend until now.

That. Smug. Look on his face. Okay, maybe it wasn't intentional but he clearly came off smug. It was actually, probably just the sunglasses. Hitomi couldn't tell what he was really looking at and that bothered her. He did, of course, have a good reason for hiding though. So what. The reigning monarch wanted some coffee. No big dealio.

Dragonshit.

Of course, it was a big deal. Why was he here again of all places?

Oh drat, that's right, Hitomi remembered. Again, all this took place in a fraction of a second. Before he could even speak, she turned towards the back counter and filled one of the large mugs to the brim with piping hot coffee.

"Black, right?" Hitomi said while sliding it across the counter towards him with as much of a neutral expression as she could muster. "On the house," she said and it unintentionally may have come out a bit rude. Good thing nobody was paying attention because she clearly wasn't good at pretending like this was an absolutely normal transaction.

"Thank you," the disguised king said with the hint of a warm smile. Fine, maybe he really hadn't intended to come off smug but seeing him again right here made her remember the incident in such clarity as though it had only just happened yesterday.

The way she had shamelessly unbuttoned his shirt as if he was just a regular guy off the street. His warm hand on top of hers while stopping the bleeding on his wounded, upper arm. And then, of course, sitting on his lap, and….and…

Their encounter, although brief, was something she'd probably never forget.

It was so crazy she'd never even told anybody about it. Yukari was her best friend but even she would have laughed. Yeah, right. The king himself, waltzing into the shop disguised as a commoner. Recounting Hitomi's own clumsiness would have definitely checked out but then, the picture-book accident, like a scene from a silly rom-com. She probably wouldn't have believed it either.

For a while, she'd even convinced herself that it hadn't really happened. Not until she had found one of the paparazzi magazines Yukari loved so much open on the coffee table a few days later. It was turned to a page that had several pictures of 'The Most Eligible Bachelors on Gaea' on a double-page spread.

Undeniably, it had been him. His stature, the hair, the dark skin, and of course the garnet red eyes. Unique, garnet red eyes that were at this moment hidden to the world by only a pair of sunglasses. A pair of sunglasses attached to the very man standing right on the other side of the counter, still offering her a gentle half-smile.

Hitomi took a calm breath. He actually hadn't been completely insufferable even after she had, very deservedly, defended herself by slapping him so hard it'd immediately left a searing, red mark. Not a permanent one, as far as she could tell, thankfully. Come to think, did they still execute people here?

Now that she thought of it, the way to dispose of severe offenders in Fanelia was to ban them beyond the wall. But really, that hadn't happened in decades. It was a severely antiquated form of punishment. Eaten alive by a dragon? Probably not the law of the land anymore. Although…

"You're welcome," Hitomi finally forced herself to say as casually as possible. A side glance at Yukari confirmed that her friend was anything but attentive anymore after a, no doubt, hectic day at the hospital. Some days, patients demanded a whole lot of energy besides the free care they provided.

The tall, dark, and handsome man in front of her finally accepted the mug and was about to walk away but then reached into his trouser pocket. With a smooth movement, he dropped a crisp, folded bill into the tip jar full of coins and then found a seat at a tiny table on the far side. He sat sideways in the chair, leaning his back against the wall and propped one arm up on the table to hold the mug possessively even while he wasn't drinking.

Hitomi decided she'd try not to care that king Van Fanel was casually sitting on the other side of the room although this course of action was, naturally, sure to compel her to care even more.

Leaning against the wall behind him, he looked like his eyes could be closed but Hitomi thought she saw him tilt his head her way every now and again while she served a few more customers and then busied herself with some cleanup. Admittedly, she caught herself sneaking some glances here and there too. Okay, maybe more than just here and there.

Hey, nobody in their right mind would blame her if they knew what was up. It wasn't even just because he was the king of all Fanelia that she caught herself looking. He was, as previously mentioned, also very easy on the eyes. Especially with his shirt off.

No! Not that! Any thought but that!

Hitomi quickly ducked behind the counter and cupped her flaming cheeks in cool palms. She almost fell over backward when Yukari's head appeared from above.

"What are you doing down there?" Her friend asked.

Hitomi quickly snatched a clean rag from the pile on the little shelf next to her. "Just looking for this," she said weakly while it dangled in her grasp.

"Ah. Well, I'm gonna go now. Amano and I will get dinner started. Should be ready by the time you get home," Yukari waved briefly while Hitomi straightened back up.

The redness on her face was still present but what was there to do about it?

"Cool. I'm going to close at six," Hitomi said despite the nervousness.

"Say, " Yukari finally asked. "Are you okay?"

Her façade had obviously been not as convincing after all. Was she okay? Hells no, the king of Fanelia was sitting mere feet away. Was Yukari really not seeing that?

"Yes! Of course," Hitomi answered almost a bit too fast while her disobedient eyes stole a glance at the raven-haired man not far away.

Yukari briefly narrowed her eyes but then turned and walked towards the door. "You're such a weirdo sometimes. Later!"

Hitomi breathed a sigh of relief when her friend left. There was no telling what would have happened if Yukari had found out just who was sitting by the wall, now idly playing with the handle of the mug. It was astonishing that she hadn't recognized him right off the bat.

Yukari was one of those people who loved gossip about high society and read magazines published by the paparazzi during lunch breaks. Was the king's disguise really this good? No. No, it absolutely wasn't! Now that she looked at him again, it was totally obvious. Anybody should be able to tell. Who was dense enough to not recognize somebody just because they decided to sport a pair of glasses and mess up their hair?

Turns out everybody, including her, actually. She hadn't recognized him the first time either but attributed it to the fact that she didn't follow the high society news and never made it a point to sift through papers or magazines looking at pictures of 'The Most Eligible Bachelors on Gaea'. And if, then most certainly not the royal-blooded kind. The kind like the man gaping in her direction now.

Big yikes. She had been caught looking directly at him. A gigantic sweatdrop formed on the backside of her head when she noticed that Van was staring right back at her. How long had she been gawking? Seconds? Minutes? This was mortifying. She began to panic a bit when he rose from the old, worn chair and sauntered right up to the counter.

Without much ado at all, he placed the empty mug before her and said "thank you for the coffee," then pushed it a bit further her way before adding quietly, so that none of the last few people in the small room could hear, "I apologize for bothering you."

Great, now she felt bad. Hitomi reached out instinctively and groped for the empty coffee mug, staring at her own reflection in his shades while distinctly remembering what his eyes had looked like up close. Her fingers brushed his warm hand but he didn't hurry to retract it.

At least he had good manners and was nice enough to bring his dishes back. Further confirmation that he maybe wasn't such a bad guy after all? Less of an enigmatic, royal pain than Yukari's magazines depicted him to be. In the pictures she did see every now and again, king Van Fanel looked untouchable, serious, and rarely smiled. He was always wrapped in an invisible cloak of admiration, adulation, and respect and that showed in his demeanor. The demeanor of a royal who never let his guard down.

So much unlike now. Right now, in this cozy, friendly place he looked like he felt…comfortable. Like he was able to let his guard down for at least a short while. Maybe that's why he was here. He had said something along those lines after the…incident. Gods be damned she really needed to stop calling it that. It had been a kiss. His lips had been on hers, full on.

Then, after she'd delivered her retribution, he'd apologized and it seemed to have been sincere. After that, he had justified his desperate course of action. Hiding from his guards and wanting to be alone for a minute had been the very simple reason for that shorted circuit in his brain. Something about wanting to feel normal and not like the fate of all Fanelia was going to be resting on his shoulders soon.

Well, now it was. The weight. Resting on his shoulders. But he was carrying it well enough so far she was aware. Even she had read the announcements and news articles about his coronation not long ago and seen him in the ceremonial armor. A bit olden-timey but a guy like him, emanating that kind of swag, could probably look good in anything.

There they were again. Uncalled-for thoughts that would lead nowhere although he wasn't making any haste in retrieving his hand from under hers, or was he? She chanced a glance there.

The woman's eyes flickered to their barely touching hands and it made Van snap out of this frozen moment in time. Although the effect of the delicious coffee had him on high alert, the spellbinding power of the honey blonde's green eyes was stronger.

This situation was quite unusual. He felt so at home in the little coffee shop, had enjoyed sitting there by himself, sipping some hot brew out of an old, overused mug scratched inside and out from stirring spoons and endless use.

It was exactly what he'd needed but he hadn't bargained with being quite so captivated by seeing her again. It was really him who was to blame for all the awkwardness. If he hadn't used her so shamelessly, stolen a kiss just to hide his ass, they wouldn't be in this situation now. Maybe sneaking out of the palace wasn't such a good idea after all. It only caused trouble.

Maybe Escaflowne had been right. Not that he'd ever admit that of course. Not out loud, at least. Van finally and carefully retrieved his hand and offered the woman another hint of a smile. He hoped it looked genuine enough to convey everything he had just thought about because there wasn't really ever going to be a chance to talk about it again.

Van forced himself to leave but he could still feel the ghost of her touch on the back of his hand when he began to climb the palace steps. Rubbing the tingling spot across his trousers, he shook his head. Why was this bothering him so much though? What exactly was his problem?

Tbc…

A/N: Since this is an AU, I had to establish a lot and I hope it's not confusing so far. I'm pumped for modern high-society Gaea with olden timey influences and hope you are too.

[wbwest]

New Post has been published on WilliamBruceWest.com

New Post has been published on http://www.williambrucewest.com/2017/06/16/west-week-ever-pop-culture-review-61617/

West Week Ever: Pop Culture In Review - 6/16/17

  Hot on the heels of the poster reveal last Friday, we got a teaser trailer for Black Panther during the NBA Finals. And it did very little for me. Yeah, I know. Every other Black person I know is, as they say, “hype” for this movie, but I just have never cared about Black Panther as a character. And I know comic book movies require suspension of disbelief, but Michael B. Jordan plays a villain named KILLMONGER! That’s probably the comic bookiest name I’ve ever been forced to take seriously. It certainly looks colorful, and it’s gonna make all the monies, but I’m gonna need to see more before I get too excited.

Let’s talk about Black Panther for a minute, though, as I think people are conflating his comic book success with his appearances in all other media. At the moment, there are currently 3 Black Panther comics on the stands: 1) Black Panther, 2) World of Wakanda, and 3) Black Panther & The Crew. Also at this moment, the latter two have already been canceled. I’ve seen people online saying that Marvel should rethink their stance, considering all the views the trailer has racked up in its week online (22.6 million as I write this). I get what they’re trying to say, but it’s a faulty argument. Their assumption is that people are clamoring for all the Black Panther they can get, when it’s really just this one movie to which they’re looking forward.

When the Black Panther comic was relaunched last year, written by author Ta-Nehisi Coates, the first issue sold over 250,000 copies, which was a rare feat for 2016. Now, however, the book sells about 1/9 of that amount, and is still decreasing. Ya see, Coates was hot shit because of an article on reparations that he wrote for The Atlantic. Why someone thought that would translate into a successful stint writing comics is beyond me. Marvel struck while the iron was hot, though, and they were able to ride the Coates wave, but anyone who’s actually read the comic knows that he’s more about political drama than superhero action. People came to the table to see what he’d offer, but over time they’ve realized they’re not picking up what he’s putting down. Still, Marvel gave him yet another series, Black Panther & The Crew, which probably should’ve been called Black Panther and His Negrotastic Pals. I bought the first issue, but the book was canceled before I even had  the chance to read it, so womp womp. It could be argued that Coates wasn’t the right choice for the book, but I think a better explanation is that Marvel blew their wad too soon. They should’ve been launching these spinoffs in the wake of the trailer, not cancelling them. Still, the damage is already done, so it’s not like they can let them tread water until the movie is released. If anything, they’re gonna have to cancel and relaunch if they want to capitalize on movie buzz. The ship, however, has sailed for the books currently on the market because this trailer is not going to serve as the shot in the arm that some folks seem to believe it to be.

Fox has got the ball rolling on X-Men: Dark Phoenix, the follow-up to the disappointing X-Men: Apocalypse. It will be directed by Simon Kinberg, who has no directing experience by the way, and is slated to be released November 2nd, 2018. And the gang’s all here, with Fassbender, Lawrence, and McAvoy are all coming back. If you remember, they tried to act like they were on the fence about returning after Apocalypse, but I guess they love money too much. Meanwhile, they’re saying that Jessica Chastain is being pursued to play alien Shi’ar Empress Lilandra, who lets Xavier bone her every couple of years. Did I mention that Kinberg wrote X-Men: The Last Stand? Ya know, the LAST time they did the Dark Phoenix storyline?! THE ONE EVERYBODY HATED?! So they’re basically giving him do-over! Everything about this sounds terrible, but we’ll probably get another cool Quicksilver sequence out of it, this time set to La Bouche’s “Be My Lover” or some other disposable 90s pop song.

Normally, I’m all about those stories where they “get the band back together”, so I was definitely surprised when this video hit the Internet this week. I miss the age of the $20 million comedy, where Hollywood was cranking these things out monthly in the mid ’00s. Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story was one of my favorites, so I had high hopes for this thing, whatever it was supposed to be. Still, 13 years have passed since the movie, and this “return to the well” felt just as stale as Zoolander 2. Its saving grace is the fact that it’s only 4 minutes long (which still, somehow, feel like an eternity). I don’t even know where to start with this thing. The unfunniness of Stiller? The weak delivery from Christine Taylor? Or the fact that I don’t have a clue as to what the Hell Omaze is? Apparently it raises money for non-profits, but it’s far from a household name. I don’t know if this is the bold step Omaze needed to take to make a name for themselves. “Hey, look ��� we’re making a mini sequel to a 13 year old movie that didn’t need a sequel!” This thing seems dead on arrival, and I’d love to somehow be able to track the success/failure of this marketing initiative. Ugh, so much potential, squandered.

Bachelor in Paradise had its production suspended this week after accounts of “misconduct” began to surface. According to varying reports, Corinne Olympios from the most recent season of The Bachelor was involved in some pretty “heavy petting”, as your grandma would call it, with DeMario Jackson from season 13 of The Bachelorette. From what I heard, they were both drunk and tried to have sex. DeMario, unfortunately, couldn’t…”ready his soldier for battle”, so he “went downtown” instead. Corinne’s friend, who’s a producer on the show, told her that it’d look bad for her to be getting serviced on camera like that. A lot of other contestants reportedly witnessed the event, and said that the two were even seen canoodling together later that night. Then, Corinne started saying that she couldn’t remember the events of the night, and that she had never given consent for what happened. So now both sides are lawyered up, blaming the other for character assassination and worse. Oh, by the way, if you’re not familiar with Bachelor In Paradise, it’s a spinoff where the contestants are encouraged to get drunk and try to fuck. So…mission accomplished?

The format of the show was just asking for a controversy like this, and I’m amazed that it took this long for something like this to hit the Bachelor franchise. I don’t know anything about DeMario, but the one season of The Bachelor that I watched featured Corinne as the villain of the season. She was constantly boasting of her sexual prowess, saying things like “My ‘vagine’ is platinum.” Her tactic to win the show was to throw herself at The Bachelor early and often. Now, some folks are gonna interpret this as me saying she “deserved” this. If this was sexual assault, nobody deserves something like that. All I’m saying is that she was strategic in using sex to get what she wanted, and quick to cower when it didn’t work out as planned. Bachelor Nick Viall rebuffed all of her advances last season, and she’d end up pouting in her room, or taking a nap during the rose ceremony. She was notoriously immature yet manipulative. Word on the street was that she was up for her own show, but this little episode might’ve jeopardized the chances of that.

The most interesting part of this whole thing is that THEY HAVE THE TAPE! LET’S GO TO THE DAMN TAPE! How damning is that tape that it hasn’t been released yet? The production is most likely over for good, as the contestants have been sent home. The future of the show is in jeopardy because of this ordeal as there doesn’t really seem to be any coming back from this. The reality show fuck house actually turned into a fuck house. I guess their plan worked a little too well. If the show does come back, this is a watershed moment for dating shows, as nothing will be the same after this. Remember how talk shows changed when the Jenny Jones Murder took place? After that, they all became more staged, and Jerry Springer thrived in its wake. Now you can’t trust anything you see during daytime, while a show like Donahue couldn’t exist in the current climate. They’re gonna have to treat future iterations of The Bachelor with kid gloves, which isn’t what people come to see. When folks watch these shows, they wanna see if the contestants are gonna hook up. Now, they realize that standards and practices won’t allow that to be shown, but they still wanna see as much as the network will allow them to see. All these years after Joe Millionaire aired on Fox, folks don’t remember it for its janky premise (poor guy pretends to be a millionaire in order to find love from a pool of gold diggers), but rather for the scene of “Joe” (Evan Marriott) and contestant Sarah Kozer in the woods with some intense slurping on the audio. Lewd, yes, but boundary-pushing for 2003 and everyone was talking about it. The goal of these shows is to produce something to dominate the conversation for a while and, in that case, this whole thing has been a success. Still, there are serious matters at hand that need to be addressed, as folks are losing jobs (DeMario got fired for the allegations), and could also end up in jail.

After something like a year in teases, we finally have our release date for the DuckTales reboot: Aug 12th. The show will premiere on DisneyXD as an hour-long “mini movie”, and then be rebroadcast for the next 24 hours on the channel. Then,  the series will officially premiere on September 23rd, with 2 new episodes. As you saw above, we also got the new credit sequence and theme song. Some of the old fuddy duddies have taken issue with the remixed theme, but I love it. The most surprising thing to me is the new jacked Mrs. Beakley, but I figure there’ll be an in-series explanation for all that.

In the world of toys, Hasbro unveiled the full Netflix wave of Marvel Legends figures, and they look so great. In the beginning, I was scared these were gonna turn out to be exclusive to a particular retailer, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. We already knew about Daredevil, Jessica Jones, and Punisher, but the wave is rounded out by Elektra, as well as comic versions of Blade and Bullseye. As an added surprise, there’s a Build A Figure in the form of Man-Thing. That character means nothing to me, but I’ll be buying the whole wave, so someone give me a shout if you wanna buy Man-Thing off me. That’s right, I’m offering my Man-Thing in exchange for money. I think that might be illegal…

Song of the Week

This week’s song is Morgan Wallen’s “The Way I Talk”, mainly because I completely identify with it. If you’ve ever spoken with me, the first question people tend to ask is “Where are you from? You sound SOUTHERN!” Also, I spent more time than I’d like to admit trying to figure out if that actually was a sample from Spacehog’s “In The Meantime” at the beginning (verdict: inconclusive).

Things You Might Have Missed This Week

CMT is seriously considering reviving Tim Allen’s canceled ABC sitcom, Last Man Standing. They already air the reruns, so it seems like a natural fit.

An Injustice 2 eSports tournament will air on TBS in October. We’re really trying to make “eSports” a thing, huh?

Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt has been renewed for a 4th season at Netflix. One of these days I’ll finally finish seasons 2 and 3…

Aisha Tyler announced yesterday that she will be leaving The Talk at the end of the season, due to her current commitments on Criminal Minds, Whose Line Is It Anyway?, and Archer. Plus, she’ll be directing an upcoming film. Yeah, that’s probably enough jobs for one person.

Someone named Anthony Padilla is leaving something called Smosh. Apparently it’s a thing on the YouTubes. If you’ve got a tween, they can probably explain whatever this means.

In an update to something I mentioned last week, Sony has revised their plans to sell clean versions of their movies. Since it was found that the plan violated union contracts, now Sony will only offer clean versions of movies that have been approved by the director.

ABC has renewed “Toy Shark Tank”, AKA The Toy Box, for a second season.

I took a trip down memory lane to talk about the old Toy Biz Customer Service hotline.

In a baffling move, Amazon is buying Whole Foods Market for $13.7 billion. I haven’t been as confused about a business deal since K-Mart bought Sears.

When I first started West Week Ever, I came up with a No Death Policy. Even though I get kinda negative on here, I still want it to be a positive place. I have a bit of an odd history with death, as I became acquainted with it at an early age, so I like to stay away from all that. Plus, there’s that problem where if you mention one death, you’ve gotta mention ALL the deaths, and ain’t nobody got time for that – especially if that death didn’t really mean anything to me. Still, when I created this feature, I always knew there would be at least 2 important exceptions. I wasn’t looking forward to them, but given their age and health, I knew it would be something I’d have to tackle eventually. Sadly, one of those deaths occurred last Saturday.

When I was growing up, there were few things I looked forward to as much as the 1966 Batman series, weekday afternoons on Fox 5. While I’d gotten the Super Powers Batman and Batmobile toys when I was around 4, I really didn’t know anything about Batman until I was introduced to that show. Hell, I remember how I used to think Batman could fly. I mean, he had a cape! All people with capes fly, right? Anyway, like any kid, I was mesmerized by the POW! ZAP! BIFF! of the fight sequences. I was on the edge of my seat for the end of episode cliffhanger. I’d tie a sheet around my neck, and shadow box along with the Dynamic Duo as they fought King Tut’s goons. I also had a next door neighbor, Brian, who was a few years younger than me (he was 7 when I was 11, as I remember him thinking that was cool), and he worshipped the ground I walked on. He’d come over, and we’d be Batman and Robin, fighting invisible goons with gadgets I’d made from Construx and jump ropes. My concept of Batman was formed by Adam West and Burt Ward, walking up the side of buildings with their Bat Ropes.

As I grew up, I was introduced to other depictions of the Caped Crusader. I started reading comics in ’92, around the time that the classic Batman: The Animated Series debuted. Those versions of Batman were totally different than what I’d grown up knowing. The environment wasn’t as campy, the world was a darker place, and Batman wasn’t doing the Batusi. Over the years, I’ve had even more versions of Batman that I’ve compared to West’s rendition, but I’ve come to appreciate him even more. While the world around him was wacky, West’s Bruce Wayne/Batman was solid. He was smart, calculating, and always knew more than the folks around him. Can you imagine a “Tower of Babel” storyline (the classic JLA story where Batman takes down the rest of the Justice League using contingency plans he’d set up for all of them), starring West’s Batman? I can, and it would be AMAZING.

It seems life wasn’t too shabby for West offscreen, either. According to several stories, he was quite the hit with the ladies, and even had an 8-woman orgy with Riddler Frank Gorshin. ZOWIE! While he never really achieved mega success with anything else, he still established himself as a cult superstar, with his turn in Conan O’Brien’s failed pilot Lookwell, as well as his role as Mayor West on Family Guy, which introduced him to a new generation of fans. Other actors who portrayed Batman went on to other things. For Clooney, Kilmer, and Bale, the role is just another notch on the IMDB profile, but West WAS Batman. With the exception of probably Kevin Conroy, no one else has been so closely identified with the role as Adam West. At the end of the day, he’s the Batman that I always come back to, and the one to which I compare all newcomers. Adam West, born William West Anderson (hey, look at that!), was MY Batman and I think we were all lucky to have him. No, he didn’t have the West Week Ever. I don’t think that’s enough of an honor to indicate what he meant to me. So, with that in mind, Adam West is the inaugural inductee to the West Week Ever Hall of Fame. Farewell, old chum.

[hellosaltysaladcollectionstuff]

It is very difficult to like Cortés, but impossible not to admire him.

— Octavio Paz

¤

HISTORIANS LOVE round numbers. We regularly celebrate centenaries, sesquicentenaries, bicentenaries, and quincentenaries as if the addition of a year and a zero makes a life or an event the more real, the more worthy of our attention. Or maybe it’s just a way to momentarily stop the clock and tidy up, simplify, and condense. Indeed, centenaries regularly elicit fireworks and parades and traffic jams, but occasionally they do offer the opportunity for introspection and reassessment. Consider how Latin Americans have responded to two “founding” — an explosive word, to be sure — events.

The first was in 1992, the 500th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’s “discovery” of America. Though Columbus immediately claimed the islands where he landed for the Spanish Crown and asked the inhabitants where to find gold, he was sure that he had reached parts of Asia already known to someone. Returning to Spain, he insisted that what he had discovered was not a new world, but a new way to get to the old world. To claim otherwise would have been heresy: since there was no unknown land — no terra incognita — on Catholic maps, how could any possibly exist? Columbus simply fit what he found into the existing paradigms of his time. He was a skilled sailor, but his ideological compass was thoroughly medieval.

While Columbus never touched the shores of North America, we yearly celebrate his arrival on “Columbus Day,” and more recently as “Día de la Raza,” with a three-day weekend in October. The holiday, first observed in the mid-19th century by the Italian-American immigrant community in New York, soon came to serve the purposes of the Catholic Church as well. Indeed, Columbus was nearly canonized for “propagating the faith,” despite the fact that his goals were commercial, not theological. The Cuban novelist Alejo Carpentier casts this odd episode in his 1979 novel El arpa y la sombra (The Harp and the Shadow): Columbus’s ghost — the “shadow” of the title — hovers over the ecclesiastical proceedings in the Vatican while reflecting on his past ambitions and delusions. In the final scene of the novel, we see the ghostly Almirante de la Mar Océano (Admiral of the Ocean Sea, the title he requested from the Spanish monarchs upon his return). He floats above Bernini’s colonnades in front of St. Peter’s Basilica, hoping for good news and hearing nothing. So he evaporates “into the air that enveloped and passed through him, and he became one with the transparent ether.”

In less poetic fashion, let me propose something similar. In the United States, we don’t commemorate Columbus on Columbus Day, or his “discovery” of our continent, but rather an immigrant community’s discovery of its ability to repurpose the past with both eyes on the present. Thanks to pressure from the Italian community, Franklin Delano Roosevelt declared October 12 as Columbus Day. The term Día de la Raza also reflects the power of immigrants in our country — this time our Hispanic immigrants. Furthermore, it draws attention to the historical presence of Hispanics not as immigrants but as subjects of Spain and then as citizens of Mexico, long before half of Mexico’s territory was annexed by the United States in 1848. The new cultural identity produced by the meeting and mixing of European and Amerindian cultures and peoples throughout the hemisphere is what 1992 really celebrated, and what we continue to celebrate every year on October 12.

Yet in Mexico, “discovery” precedes “conquest” in the national lexicon, so feelings ran high in 1992. There were debates about how (or more to the point, how not) to celebrate it. The statue of Columbus on Mexico City’s Paseo de la Reforma was defaced to protest the devastation of indigenous cultures by the European invaders, but in fact a majority of Mexicans acknowledge their Spanish cultural heritage with pride, while also recognizing their mestizo identity as individuals and as a nation. In the end, the Mexican government collaborated with Spain to honor Columbus’s achievement on the condition that the term “discovery” be discarded in favor of the phrase encuentro de dos mundos (encounter of two worlds). Rather than referring to cultures and histories that preceded contact with Europe as precolombinas (pre-Columbian), Mexico uses the term precortesiano (pre-Cortesian). The quincentenary that we are now marking is at the pivot of pre- and post-Cortesian: Hernán Cortés arrived on the Gulf Coast of Mexico in 1519 and defeated the Aztec Empire in 1521.

Once the Spanish monarchy grasped the vast potential of Columbus’s “discovery,” history’s greatest land grab was launched. Hernán Cortés set sail from Spain in 1504 at the age of 19 to seek his fortune in the new world, a world now conveniently recognized as land that could be claimed for the Spanish crown. Cortés landed on the island of Hispaniola (now Haiti and the Dominican Republic), participated in its “conquest,” and then in 1511 accompanied the commander of the Spanish invasion of Cuba.

Cuba was added to the maps of Spanish dominions in 1515, and Cortés stayed on and worked his way up in the Spanish bureaucracy, acquiring favor and an encomienda (land assigned by the Crown that came with Indian labor in exchange for the promise to convert them to Christianity), and more importantly, learning how the system worked. In 1517 and 1518, expeditions had sailed from Cuba to Mexico; both had landed on the Yucatán Peninsula and the second reached the Gulf Coast of Mexico, but both met resistance and returned to Cuba. In 1519, the governor of Cuba gave Cortés command of a third expedition. At the last minute, he revoked Cortés’s charter but Cortés sailed anyway, adding men and ships with his own money before leaving Cuba. He landed on the Yucatán Peninsula and then sailed north around the peninsula, into the Gulf and west to Mexico’s coast. There he called into existence a town that he named La Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz, allowing him to circumvent the authority of the Cuban governor and, in principal, report directly to the King of Spain.

From this point on, Cortés did as he saw fit. In Mexico, it is said that if Niccolò Machiavelli had known of Cortés, he would have used him, rather than Cesare Borgia, as his model. While Columbus could not imagine a new world, Cortés had no trouble at all. In The Buried Mirror: Reflections on Spain and the New World (1992), Carlos Fuentes refers to Cortés ironically as “one of the great figures of Renaissance Europe,” and describes him as possessed of “a modern individualism of a Machiavellian stripe, common throughout Renaissance Europe […] arrivistes, climbers, men on the make.”

As a man on the make, Cortés soon unmade the Aztec Empire. In 1519, he marched his troops up the mountains to meet Moctezuma II. Their meeting is described by Cortés himself in the second of five letters to Charles V, King of Spain. Historians take these letters to be self-interested, given Cortés’s need to please his royal patron and demonstrate his own heroism, but his amazement is genuine. He describes his first glimpse of the emperor in the ceremonial center of Tenochtitlán, a city that rises in the middle of a lake skirted by snowcapped volcanoes:

After we had crossed this bridge, Moctezuma came to greet us and with him some two hundred lords, all barefoot and dressed in a different costume. […] They came in two columns, pressed very close to the walls of the street, which is very wide and beautiful and so straight that you can see from one end to the other. It is two-thirds of a league long and has on both sides very good and big houses, both dwellings and temples.

Moctezuma presents Cortés with “two necklaces, wrapped in a cloth, made from red snails’ shells, which they hold in great esteem; and from each necklace hung eight shrimps of refined gold almost a span in length.” He then quotes Moctezuma, supposedly verbatim. The emperor explains that he is not a god but a human being like his guests, but he then cedes his authority to Cortés, apparently imagining him to be envoy of a departed ruler who promised to return. Over the centuries, this passage has given rise to the myth that Moctezuma mistook Cortés for the returning god Quetzalcóatl and meekly submitted to the new ruler. This is far from the case. It doesn’t take long for the emperor to revise his estimate, but Cortés takes full advantage of Moctezuma’s mistake and the Aztecs’ enemies.

The term “epic” is regularly used to describe this meeting of the representatives of two civilizations, neither of whom knew of the other’s existence and yet managed to meet and express wonder at each other’s accouterments and equipment: the Aztecs’ monumental city and exquisite artifacts, the Spaniards’ horses and cannons and harquebuses. We know the outcome, but how did these men converse? Cortés had the good luck to find two translators who were essential to his enterprise: Jerónimo de Aguilar, a Spaniard who had survived a shipwreck off the coast of the Yucatán in 1511 and learned Chontal Maya during his years as a captive, and a woman who spoke Nahuatl (the language of the Aztecs) before being sold by her mother to a Maya chieftain, who in turn gave her, along with 20 other young women, to Cortés as tribute. Known as La Malinche, she became Cortés’s consort, bore his son, and along with Aguilar, served as his translator during the two years of strategic maneuvering that led to the final battle in Tenochtitlán on August 13, 1521. She knew the animosity of indigenous groups under Aztec imperial rule and provided information that allowed Cortés to make strategic alliances and employ thousands of indigenous warriors against the Aztecs. Cortés, when asked to explain his victory, is said to have replied, “The will of God and La Malinche.” Even if the phrase is apocryphal, the part about La Malinche is accurate.

In effect, then, this quincentenary lasts two and a half years. It has already started with Cortés’s landing in Mexico 500 years ago in February, and it will culminate on August 13, 2021. There are no statues of Cortés in public spaces in Mexico, nor is there a Cortés Day to pair with Columbus Day. Mexico, more than most of Latin America, is acutely aware of the loss exacted by European colonization. What this quincentenary will generate are scholarly reconsiderations of the conquest. Specialists and nonspecialists alike cannot find a better place to begin than with Matthew Restall’s recent book, When Montezuma Met Cortés: The True Story of the Meeting that Changed History (2018). The author’s strategy is to identify “myths” that have developed over the centuries, such as the one I mentioned about Moctezuma’s idea that Cortés is a ruler who had promised to return — an idea that eventually makes Cortés into the returning god Quetzalcóatl. Restall is excellent at reviewing the sources and development of what he calls the “mythistory” surrounding the “conquest”; and his proposals for alternative readings, some based on accounts by indigenous witnesses and later informants, make sense. Such reconsiderations are all to the good. Octavio Paz puts it this way:

Cortés should be restored to the place where he belongs, with all his grandeur and faults: to history. When Cortés ceases to be a myth and becomes what he really is — a historical person — Mexicans will be able to see ourselves with greater clarity, generosity, and serenity.

¤

Lois Parkinson Zamora is professor of English and Comparative Literature at the University of Houston. She is a leader in the comparative study of literature of the Americas.

The post Round Numbers in Latin American History: 1992 and 2021 appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books https://ift.tt/2Fsk6gZ

[viralhottopics]

A song for Syria: Why soul star Jodie Abacus is singing about refugees – BBC News

Image copyright Household Recordings

Image caption Jodie Abacus: “We need to be a little bit more empathetic”

Pop is getting a long overdue dose of politics.

Lady Gaga issued a subtle rebuke to Donald Trump at Sunday’s Super Bowl, singing the protest anthem This Land Is Your Land and quoting from the pledge of allegiance.

Pop trio Muna were more explicit. Appearing on Jimmy Kimmel’s chat show this week, they added a new verse to their single I Know A Place. The final line? “He’s not my leader even if he’s my president.”

In the UK, Stormzy prompted an overhaul of the Brits after pointing out the ceremony’s lack of diversity in his song One Take Freestyle.

And now, up-and-coming soul star Jodie Abacus has released a powerful song about the refugee crisis.

Called Keep Your Head Down, it tells the story of a family fleeing a war zone, only to be met with fear and suspicion in the country they had thought would provide safe harbour.

“I focused on Syria when I was writing,” he says, “but there’s a load of places in the world that are going through the same thing.”

Jodie performed it live for the first time on Jo Whiley’s BBC Radio 2 show on Wednesday night. Ahead of the session, he sat down with BBC News to talk about the story behind the song (and Elton John’s helicopter).

Why did you decide to write about the refugee crisis?

I was in LA for a session, and I saw something about refugees on the television in my hotel. That’s what triggered it.

I wanted to give a perspective of what it would be like to go from one country to another. I can only imagine it’s a terrifying feeling. We need to be a little bit more empathetic.

How did you write the lyrics?

The beat of the song triggered the emotion in me. The first lyric was the chorus: “We’re moving on, but the road is long / Don’t get your hopes up, you’d better keep your head down.”

Don’t get your hopes up is the father saying “we’re running out of chances”, and keep your head down was like, “pray that we get out of this”.

I’d assumed it was about having to keep a low profile in a new country.

It’s both. There’s a lot of double meanings. It’s also about keeping your head down to escape the bullets.

The thing is, you do all this to save your life – then you’re not accepted by the country where you thought you’d be safe. People hate you or they think you’re going to steal their jobs or take their benefits. But there’s a lot of people running away just to save their own souls.

Image copyright Household Recordings

Image caption The singer has been championed by artists including Elton John, Usher and The Roots

Your musical references are very eclectic. I hear Stevie Wonder, ELO, Steely Dan, even Hall & Oates in there. How did you get into music?

I was born in south-east London in Lewisham Hospital. My dad used to be a DJ. He’d carry around these big speakers and play reggae, soul, funk. I was just surrounded by music.

What was the first time you performed in public?

I gave a foyer concert at college. What I’d done was reproduce the Jacksons’ Show You the Way to Go on a little computer, and I’d written my own lyrics to it.

No one really knew I could sing – I wasn’t one of the stand-out guys in college – but I thought, “OK, I’ll give it a go”.

And all of a sudden there were people watching from on top, people crowding round the sides. At the end they were all like, “Oh my gosh, he can sing!”.

It sounds like a scene from a movie.

It was actually quite nuts.

Media captionJodie Abacus performs She’s In Love with the Weekend on the BBC Introducing stage at Glastonbury 2016

What inspired you to write your own music?

There was a lot of trauma. My mum and dad divorced and I missed out on a lot of things because I had to go to court. Being creative took my mind off what was going on.

So there was a custody battle?

They were fighting over me and my younger brother and it got nasty. It was harsh. Not a lot of people, not even your parents, understand how the kids suffer, mentally.

When you’re that age you trust your parents and suddenly this black hole of chaos opens up. But that’s what built my character, in terms of deciding I wanted to do music.

But you studied acting at college, is that right?

Yeah, I got my diploma in performing arts and I loved it.

Why did you decide to pursue music instead?

I literally decided on a notepad. I drew two big arrows in blue biro, one for music and one for acting. I wrote little notes about what I wanted to do… and I wanted to make great music. I didn’t know any notes, I didn’t know anything. I was just going with my feelings.

You’re in your mid-30s now, so it certainly hasn’t been an overnight success. What happened?

You leave college, you get a job, you get another job – but all that time you’re taking the money you earn and you’re investing it in the thing you want to do. There’s always times where you think it’s going to be your turn, but it just doesn’t happen.

How close did you come to giving up?

You get tormented a lot. You get tormented to the point of thinking, “why do I keep going?” – but then you realign yourself.

There’s nothing worse than hearing an old person say, “Oh, I wish I’d done this or that”. When I’m in my rocking chair eating apple crumble and custard, I want to say I had no regrets.

Media captionJodie Abacus performs I’ll Be That Friend live on the BBC Introducing stage at Glastonbury 2016

Your big breakthrough was a song called I’ll Be That Friend. How did that song arrive?

Three years ago, I came down with pneumonia and almost died. I was bedridden for about three months and, in the middle of all that, I finished with my ex. She moved on to another dude, like, really quickly. I saw pictures of them kissing and, even though I’d broken up with her, it was still a shock.

At the end of that year, I needed to be comforted. I needed someone to say, “it’s going to be alright’. It didn’t matter who it was. I just needed someone. I’d never felt that way before, but I needed a hug.

Those feelings all came out in the song. As I was writing it, I was crying and singing at the same time.

And yet that song, like a lot of your music, is very positive. Was that something you felt pop was lacking?

Yeah. I feel there’s a fun element missing. Everyone’s thinking about the formula of how to write a hit song. I don’t. Music is such a spiritual thing, it has to move you.

You’ve been getting a lot of support from Elton John on his Beats 1 show. What did you make of that?

That’s incredible. He’s one of my heroes. He’s given me a couple of proper big shout-outs.

And you’ve covered Bennie and the Jets in concert.

That was nuts. He was meant to show up – but he didn’t because the cloud level was low and his helicopter couldn’t land.

Wow. First world problems.

Haha. Right?

So is there an album on the way?

Yeah, it’s called Take This and Grow Flowers – because I’m using every little traumatic memory as fertiliser, and then making it grow. All of these things, all of these problems I’ve had… every memory is like a seed.

What’s the best thing about success?

I love travelling. I love the adventure. There’s not a day where I’m not thankful. I’m happy that Radio 2 have supported me as much as they have done.

Have you become a connoisseur of hotel rooms?

I’m not that fussy. I get annoyed when there’s no kettle. It’s not just for tea – I use it to steam clothes, and it’s useful for steaming your voice as well.

But do you know what? I always get paranoid that someone’s done a wee in it. I always wash it out, just in case.

Jodie Abacus’s single Keep Your Head Down is out now. His debut album follows later this year.

Follow us on Facebook, on Twitter @BBCNewsEnts, or on Instagram at bbcnewsents. If you have a story suggestion email entertainment.news@bbc.co.uk.

More on Jodie Abacus

BBC Music homepage

BBC Music News LIVE

Related Topics

Music

Read more: http://bbc.in/2k6Oy8F

from A song for Syria: Why soul star Jodie Abacus is singing about refugees – BBC News

[catgirlthecrazy]

Real Brides Don’t Get Wedding Armor

A totally silly and self-indulgent idea I got.

Alianne Cousland had survived a lot of strange shit in the last couple years, far more than most people had any right to in one lifetime. She’d joined the Wardens, and survived. She’d battled darkspawn, spiders, abominations, werewolves, bears, broodmothers, golems, and Maker only knew what else. She’d been trapped in the Fade, a non-mage, and escaped. She’d ventured to the Deep Roads’ nethermost depths and returned with a Paragon’s crown. Then she’d journeyed in the stuff of fables to retrieve a sacred relic to save a dying man- and succeeded. Oh, and she slew an archdemon and lived. That was probably worth mentioning too.

Aly would like to say that none of it had scared her, but she’d be a damn liar if she did. Still, the burning need to brown her own pants hadn’t stopped her from twirling a dagger, tossing a clever quip, and throwing herself at the next threat of death and dismemberment if it meant saving others.

Wedding dresses, however, might defeat her.

Aly stared at her reflection the mirror, mouth pursed tight. Her very white, very glittery, very poofy reflection stared back at her. A silky white bodice that valiantly tried and utterly failed to add curves to Aly’s beanpole figure. A poofy skirt that poofed out so aggressively that Aly thought even if she tripped on the hem she’d simply roll back upright from the sheer weight of it. And the whole thing was encrusted with so many diamonds that even Shale probably would have called them “slightly excessive.” All in all, it gave the impression of a glittery toothpick sticking out of a marshmallow.

Eventually, Aly’s brain emerged from the ice scape of horror to which it had retreated long enough to form a coherent sound.

“No.”

Mother Bronwyn raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

Aly glared at her. “I said, no. No way in the Black City am I going to wear this-” She waved her arms emphatically, causing the servants currently pinning and hemming the dress into place to duck- “This thing. Andraste’s tits, I’m the Warden-Commander, not a cake decoration.”

Bronwyn’s eyes narrowed. “I knew Teryna Eleanor quite well, my lady, and I know she did not teach her daughter to use such language.”

Aly glared back. “Andraste’s dank, yeasty-“ She enunciated each word like a carefully aimed arrow.

“In any case,” Mother Bronwyn bouldered over Aly’s cursing, “You are marrying a king, meaning you will become queen. On your wedding day, that will be the title of highest precedence, and therefore you must wear a dress appropriate to your new rank.”

Aly decided to change tacks. “And if we’re attacked by assassins? I can’t move for shit in this froofy monstrosity, and silk doesn’t do jack against knives or arrows.”

Bronwyn sniffed. “I hardly think that is likely.”

“Queen Moira had assassins out her arse when she got married,” Aly argued, naming King Maric’s mother and Alistair’s grandmother.

“The Rebel Queen was married in a tent in the Southron Hills, while being actively hunted by Orlesian troops. You are getting married in the most fortified city in Ferelden. The situations are hardly comparable. Now enough of this. You will wear the dress and we will argue no more on this matter.” Not giving Aly a chance to interject, Bronwyn turned on her heel and walked out.

Aly stood there in fuming silence as the servants finished pinning. She felt twelve again. Her mother had tried on more than occasion to subject her to dresses. Every time, Aly had fought, wheedled, tantrumed, and in general made her mother’s life a misery every time she tried to stuff Aly into one. The few times Eleanor Cousland had won, Aly made it her mission to ruin the dress as quickly and thoroughly as possible: jumping in mud puddles, “accidentally” dribbling food and drink, or just cuddling Ser Rufus and letting the slobber and dog hair do its work.

Even now, Aly was tempted to storm out of the room and toss the horrible thing into the fire. But Bronwyn would just take it out on the servants for not finishing the alterations, and the money for a new dress would be money they couldn’t spend on resettling Blight refugees. Petty childishness was so much less fun when you had to think about the consequences for others.

Eventually, the servants finished their work and Aly escaped. It was late, but she went back to her rooms and she got some useful things done that day: reports about rebuilding the city, supplies for refugees, the planned Warden fortress in Amaranthine, and so on. She was still at her writing desk when the door clicked open. A pair of brawny arms draped over her shoulders, and she looked up with a grin at dancing brown eyes she loved very much.

“So I heard a rumor,” Alistair said with a grin, “That a gorgeous woman is getting married to some hapless idiot next week.”

Aly grinned back. “That can’t be true. I heard she was marrying a handsome prince.” They kissed, slow and unhurried, enjoying the quiet peace of the moment, like a stroll in a familiar and favorite garden.

They broke apart, and Alistair glanced down at her writing desk. “Ooh, grain imports. Exciting! And here I thought queening was all balls and gowns and waving at people from carriages.”

He meant it as joke for her to share. Aly knew that. But she thought of the gown Mother Bronwyn had bullied her into, and her good mood soured. “Maker forbid we have a queen who can do something useful with her life,” she muttered, with considerably more bitterness than she’d intended.

“Your latest joust with the old dragon didn’t go well I take it? I heard something about dress-fittings.”

Aly scowled. “It’s not just the dress, although that was impressively awful. It feels like Bronwyn and her minions are using this whole wedding to try to force me into a proper-lady-shaped box, even if she has to hack off bits of me to make me fit. Like now that we’re supposedly at peace, I should hang up my dagger and lock pick and retire to hearth and home like that’s all I’m good for.”

Alistair drew back. “Aly… Dear… If you want to- I know this life wasn’t your first choice, so if you don’t-” He laughed at his own stumbling. “Maker, words just do not seem to like me tonight, do they?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What I’m trying to say is-”

Aly was on her feet with her finger on his lips. “Don’t. I chose this, remember?”

“If you say so.” Alistair chuckled. “You know, you might not need to worry. The ceremonial armour that Eamon commissioned for me is so shiny I think it will blind the whole audience. Then no one will be able to see the hideous marshmallow dress of doom.”

Aly grinned. “Perhaps I could arrange for someone to dump muck on us.”

Alistair chuckled. “Tempting. But Mother Bronwyn would probably murder us. And we’d never get to sample the stinky cheese platter at the reception.”

“We can’t have that.” Impulsively, Aly pulled him in for another kiss. When they separated, she grinned ruefully. “You know, I am a little envious. You at least get to wear actual armour, even if it’s silly shiny armor. Women don’t get-” She stopped abruptly.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Women don’t get…?”

She looked up at him, a manic delight in her eyes that usually indicated his life was about to get especially interesting. “I just had the best idea.”

It was somewhere around the tenth knock before the door finally opened. “Can’t you see the sign? We’re closed- ” Herren’s irritable voice cut off abruptly when he saw Aly standing there, hooded and cloaked, fist still raised mid-knock. Herren scowled. If looks could kill, Aly would be a bloody smear on the pavement right now. “You’re not welcome here,” he snapped. Only Aly’s quickly inserted foot kept him from slamming the door in her face.

“I have have a deal for you,” Aly said.

“We’re not making any more free armor, now go awa-”

“Herren, dear, what are you still doing up? Come to bed, it’s far too cold tonight.” Aly heard Wade- it could only be Wade- yawning from somewhere in the shop.

“I will as soon as this pest leaves.” Herren tried to shove her foot out the door, but Aly braced her hands between the door and door frame. Wade’s face appeared over Herren’s in the doorway and brightened.

“Why, if it isn’t my favorite customer! Don’t be rude Herren, let her in.” The door was flung open and Aly was pulled in with much fussing from Wade and much growling from Herren. When they were all seated at the counter, Aly made her offer.

“I need something… special made, and in a hurry.”

Wade’s face brightened. “Have you brought me more dragon scale? Herren keeps me quite bereft of truly masterful projects.”

Herren snorted. “I keep us in profit, I think is what you meant. I don’t care if you brought us hide from the archdemon itself, we’re not making you any more free armor.”

Wade’s eyes glittered with speculative excitement. “Archdemon hide… Just imagine the properties!” Aly could imagine, and did. The archdemon corpse hadn’t decomposed after she killed it- not even maggots would go near it. It simply lay atop Fort Drakon, oozing its miasmatic evil for weeks until Wardens from Jader came to dispose of it. The thought of anyone trying to make armor from it made her blanch. Only Wade would think it was exciting.

“Er, no,” Aly coughed. “I had a… Different sort of challenge in mind.” She looked at Herren, calculating. “The Grey Wardens officially confirmed me as Ferelden’s Commander of the Grey last month. We’re setting up our new headquarters in Amaranthine in a few months, and we’re going to need an armorer. Wade could be that armorer.”

Herren’s eyes narrowed. “In exchange for…?”

Alianne slid a sheaf of parchment across the counter. “You make this by next week.”

As Aly emerged from the bridal dressing chamber, Fergus looked her up and down. The corners of his mouth twitched. “I feel like I should be surprised, but somehow, I’m not.”

Aly grinned and twirled. “What, you’ve never seen a wedding dress like this?”

Her brother’s mouth twitched again. “Not quite like that one, no. You do realize that Bronwyn is going to murder you?”

Aly snorted a very un-queenly snort. “Please. I’ve faced dragons, and I’ve faced Mother. I can handle one bitchy Chantry mother.”

Fergus’ face softened into a smile. “You know they would be proud of you right now.”

Aly’s throat tightened. It should have been her father walking her down the aisle. It should have been her mother squabbling with her over dress fittings. A lot of things should have been that weren’t.

After a moment, Fergus held out a handkerchief. Aly took it, used it, then handed it back. She took a few deep breaths, then held out her arm.

“Shall we?”

If one stood in the rafters of the Denerim Grand Cathedral, one might have been able to see the murmur spread through the hall like a wave as Aly and Fergus walked down the aisle. More specifically, the murmur spread as the attendees realized that their queen-to-be was not wearing a wedding dress.

She was wearing armor.

In Aly’s defense, it was probably the prettiest armour a bride had worn to her own wedding in the history of… ever. A snow white leather armor tunic, with gold filigree and the Ferelden coat of arms embossed on the chest. Small versions of the Cousland twin vines and the Grey Warden twin griffons graced her left and right shoulders, respectively. A short, white waist-length cape hung over her back. A miniature rose tucked into her bun completed the ensemble. It wasn’t the rose, sadly. That beloved gift had crumbled to nothing under the hardships of travel months ago. Still, when she was being so heavily scrutinized, the rose felt like a little private signal, just for her and Alistair, like flaunting a love letter written in code.

The murmur reached the back of the room and bounced back like waves in a bucket. The crowd was scandalized, but it was a delighted sort of scandal. Aly’s reputation had spread during the Blight, and Ferelden could take pride in a queen who defied tradition, as long as she did it in style.

Mother Bronwyn, for her part, looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. But what could she do? If she made a scene over this now, she’d be the one to look bad. That was the key to winning with people like Bronwyn. You never argued, because they would argue back until the end of time and you’d never win. Better to forge ahead and not give them the chance.

By the time Aly reached the altar, Alistair was trying his best not to grin like a loon, without much success. He was the only one (besides Wade and Herren) who had known Aly’s plan ahead of time, but this was the first time he’d actually seen her armor in person.

He took her hands as Mother Bronwyn began the time-worn ceremony. “Blessed Andraste, beloved of the Maker, we are gathered here today…”

She was halfway through the ritual words when Aly noticed a glint of metal somewhere in the rafters. A reflex that bypassed simple thought barreled her into Alistair just as the first arrow loosed, which is why it glanced off her shoulder instead of going through his neck.

“Vengeance for Loghain!” A man in the robes of a Chantry lay-brother charged the altar, two wicked looking daggers in each hand. Aly danced out of the way, but not before one dagger connected with her abdomen. Fortunately, Wade had done his work well, and the frantic jab slid uselessly off Aly’s toughened leather armor. She drew her own boot daggers, vaguely aware of commotion throughout the chapel, and that Alistair had drawn his sword and was fighting someone behind her, but she was too focused on the current fight to note the details. Aly feinted left, then struck right, putting a nasty gash in his arm. The assassin grimaced in pain but didn’t drop his weapon. Aly gave him points for that- She knew from experience how hard that was with a cut that deep.

They stood there for a moment, panting. Then the assassin struck out at her left. It was clearly a feint, so Aly moved right to block, but the assassin didn’t. He went straight for Alistair. Alistair, who had his back to them, blades locked with another assassin. Alistair, who despite his shiny plate armor, had nothing to protect him from a throat cutting.

Aly swore as she scrambled to defend him, too slow, too slow…

A dagger thunked into the assassin’s back and he toppled to the ground. Leliana appeared a moment later, yanking the knife out and wiping the blade on her Chantry robes. She nodded at Aly. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Aly panted. She glanced over at Alistair, who’d finally managed to run his opponent through. He didn’t seem to be hurt. “I owe you one.”

“What do we owe Leliana for this time?” Alistair asked, turning to join them.

Instead of answering, Aly pulled him into a bruising kiss. He grunted in surprise, but leaned into it eagerly as she sought reassurance with lips and hands. Eventually they pulled apart, panting. “You’re in one piece?” she murmured.

He grinned weakly. “Of course. You?”

Aly tried to make a show of scoffing. “Takes more than that to take me down.” Her voice was shakier than she would have liked.

Throughout the hall, various royal guards and other well armed attendees were quickly subduing the other assassins that had appeared. There was even an elderly woman in Grand Cleric’s robes calmly pulling a dagger out of an assassin’s back.

“Sodding nughumpers, is that it?” Oghren shouted. “This party was just getting fun! Where’s the ale?”

Alistair chuckled. “Glad someone’s enjoying this.”

“Your majesty, please.” That was Captain Easton of the royal guard, pulling on Alistair’s shoulder. “This room is not secure. If you would please come away…?”

Alistair looked incredulous. “Leave? Now? I can’t do that while people are hurt here!”

“Sire, we already have people-”

“His Majesty is right,” Leliana interrupted. Aly saw Alistair wince at the formal title coming from a close friend. “The assassins appear to all be dead. If the king left now, it would only start rumors that he was seriously injured or killed by this attack. It is vital that people see for themselves that this is not so. And if he is seen tending to the wounded, then it can only enhance his reputation.”

Aly didn’t need to see Alistair’s face to know that that he hated having a basic act of decency reframed in such cravenly political terms. But it worked. As Alistair went to find Wynne, Aly pulled Easton aside. “Have your men search the rafters. There was at least one man up there who’s gone now, and I didn’t see him fall-”

They all jumped as a body fell from the ceiling with a great thud. There was a very familiar looking dagger in its back. “My apologies, friend,” drawled Zevran from the rafters. “I should have anticipated something of this kind. The festivities have been making me lax.”

Aly flung out a hand to stop Easton’s lieutenant from putting a crossbow bolt in her friend. “Don’t. He’s on our side.” She looked up at Zevran. “If you get yourself killed pulling stunts like that, I’m never speaking to you again.”

He mock bowed. “So helpful. I wouldn’t dream of offending you that way my friend.”

All in all, they were stupendously lucky. No one other than the assassins had died. There were some injuries, but none were life threatening. The worst hurt was Bronwyn, who had to be carried out by two guards, but Wynne assured them she’d recover.

When most of the chapel had cleared, Aly found Alistair in the back wiping down his sword. She pulled him into another fierce kiss. When they pulled apart Alistair had a twinkle in his eye. “You know, after all that trouble, we still didn’t manage to actually get married?”

Aly blinked. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“I know. Really inconsiderate of them. They could at least have waited until we’d said our ‘I do’s. Now we’ll have to do the whole thing over again.”

Aly made a face. “Oh fuck that. Let’s go find Leliana.”

It turned out that a mere lay sister like Leliana did not have the authority to perform weddings. But she procured an Orlesian Grand Cleric from somewhere (the same one who Aly had noticed earlier dueling assassins with daggers), Alistair had Eamon gather up as many nobles as could still stand, and assembled them in the chapel.

It would probably go down as the most unconventional royal wedding in Ferelden’s history. The king and his queen-to-be standing at the altar, grinning like fools, armor looking much more well used than it had that morning. The Grand Cleric saying the ritual words, robes soaked in blood (“None of it is mine,” she had assured them.)

But it was their wedding. Aly and Alistair’s. And that was all that mattered in the end.