#erm when it doubt plot it oUT!!!!

[ellecdc]

perhaps r works as a vet or with a wildlife protection agency etc and brings a horse to farrier!remus and he just falls for her bc he sees how much she cares about the horse and her gentle nature and it soothes him 😋

this has been stuck in my mind since my original post re: farrier!Remus so I finally took a stab at it! thanks for the prompt, I hope I did it justice! <3

A Horseshoe for Luck

Farrier!Remus Lupin x Veterinarian!reader who consults with Remus on a case [1.3k words]

CW: fem!reader, situation inspired by a horse who was lost for a few years and when found had severe overgrowth of his hooves (happy ending), don't look too closely at the plot if you're a Horse Girl (gn) thank you xx

Remus heaved in a sigh as he pulled down the long gravel driveway to his latest appointment. 

He’d known there was a new vet in town, which came with a certain level of relief and a certain level of concern.

The rural coasts of Wales were no doubt hurting for Veterinarians (and service providers in general), but the communities were notoriously closed-knit and standoffish to ‘outsiders’ and were completely incapable of keeping newcomers around for any amount of time.  

Every new vet that this village saw came from the city, and every new vet left after a measly year-or-two long stint max. 

He couldn’t necessarily blame them; sometimes it took a local to manage the locals, but this left him with a certain level of distrust.

Too many times has Remus been called upon by the new city-sent vets just to be spoken down to or dismissed entirely because they believed that they knew better.

So, though he knew this vet would probably be much the same - some young, newly minted vet fresh out of school who had accepted the first available job they could find - he also knew that his area was in desperate need of a vet, and that he also had a job to do.

So he dutifully parked his truck and opened the cab to retrieve his tools when a frazzled looking tech approached him.

“You must be Mr. Lupin! I’m Hannah, I was the one who spoke to you on the phone.” She offered quickly. 

“Just Remus s’fine. Was this a wild horse?” He asked, not interested in smalltalk as he followed her towards a large barn. 

“No, not originally at least. The owners have been looking for him for two years and finally found him with a wild herd - managed to bring him back in.”

“Is he sound?”

“His hooves are in horrid condition - the doctor has done a preliminary check on the rest of him but would really like to get him some relief for his feet before she does anything more to him.” 

“And who are they?” He asked as he passed a couple standing outside of the barn doors.

“The owners.” The tech - Hannah - offered quickly. 

“Have they not seen their horse?” He asked, noticing that the tech hesitated before turning down the run where he could hear some activity. 

“They have, but they were very anxious and excited to be reunited with him. The doctor felt that for an animal who has spent the last two years in a wild herd, it might be best to keep the area calm. I - erm, well, are you calm, Mr. Lup- erm, Remus?”

Remus let out a snort and nodded quickly. “Yeah, I’m pretty calm.”

Hannah smiled in relief as she turned the corner which exposed a large brown and white paint horse secured in cross ties. Standing at his head where there should be a stuffy city vet in a crisp white lab coat barking orders at various techs and stablehands was simply a woman (a very beautiful woman, Remus had to admit, though didn’t feel it was entirely professional to recognise), wearing dirty activewear with her hair messily pulled back and a stethoscope thrown over her shoulders as she murmured quietly to the horse. 

Remus almost felt bad for the horse when Hannah interrupted your conversation with it to introduce you to Remus. 

You accepted Remus’ handshake quickly without the usual stuffy-city vet hesitation to check for clean fingernails (he worked with the likes of sodding barn animals for christ sake, give him a break) and a warm smile that actually met your eyes as you looked into Remus’ (and into his soul, he was sure). 

“Thank you so much for coming, Remus. I’ve heard great things about you since I’ve arrived, I’m only sorry I haven’t had a chance to make your acquaintance until now.”

“I’ve been eager to meet you as well.” Liar, Remus scolded himself immediately; though, had he known the new vet had been the likes of you? Well, maybe he would have been more eager. “So, the poor lad’s got some major overgrowth?” He asked as he looked at the horses hooves instead of admiring your figure like he’d much prefer to be doing.

“I can’t tell if there’s lameness because of an injury or if it’s just his instability on these hooves of his so I figured a trim was our next best step, but what do you think? Is there something I’m overlooking?”

Remus managed to mask his surprise at your collaboration with a simple farrier (versus what would have usually been orders given in a bored tone before the vet fucked off further into the barn only to come out in the end to inspect his work) by doing a walkaround as he felt the horses legs. 

The horse seemed somewhat tense at the attention he was receiving, but quickly calmed when you began massaging around his neck and murmuring to him in a low, dulcet tone.

Fuckin’ hell, Remus was jealous of a horse. 

“No, I think you’re quite right. Let’s get him onto more balanced footing and then you can work your magic.” He offered after his inspection, earning him a beaming smile from you in the process. 

“Are we shoeing him?”

You tilted your head as you looked over at the horse as if waiting for him to respond. “What do you think?” You asked Remus instead. “A horseshoe for luck?”

And though Remus knew that you knew the shoes would really just provide more strength and protection for the equines hooves, he was not one to deny himself a chance at luck, so he quickly agreed.

“Do you mind an audience, or would you prefer if I left?” You asked then as you backed away from the horse to allow Remus to set up.

He normally preferred solitude; he was in this business because he, admittedly, found the company of animals far more enjoyable than that of humans, but he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t quite ready to have you leave his company yet. 

So you sat - on the dusty, straw strewn flooring - as you watched Remus work; polite conversation inching further and further away from business as the job progressed. What started out as him asking how long you’d been out of school, what made you want to study veterinary medicine, ended up with what brought you here of all places.

“Peace…solitude. I wanted a quieter pace of life and to live somewhere where I could know the people around me instead of just knowing that there were people around me; does that make sense?” You asked then, allowing your head to loll to the side as you considered him. 

“I think so; don’t usually find people running here though…most are running away.”

“Looking for a quicker pace of life?”

“Something like that.” He agreed as he finished up one hoof and moved onto another. 

“But not you?”

“Not me.” He agreed.

“Why’s that?”

Remus paused at that, chancing a look at you and finding that to be a horrid mistake because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to return to his work when you were smiling at him that sweetly. 

“I wanted peace…solitude. A quiet pace of life where I could know the people around me, I suppose.” 

Your smile grew subtly at his rephrasing of your previous words. “Fair enough.” 

The trim seemed to do the trick; the horse no longer showing any lameness in his legs as Remus watched you lunge him around the dusty arena alongside the very happy owners. 

“What do you think, Remus? Did he look good?” You called to him as you handed the lead to the owners. 

“Looked perfect.” He responded simply. 

The horse, you, the rural coast of Wales now that you were here.

He found himself suddenly very happy to have a new vet in town, and hoped to all hell that you outlasted the many vets that came before you.

[absolutebl]

Top 10 Great BLs That Are REALLY hard to find (but worth tracking down)

You may want to go hunting anyway!

Seven Days

Seven Days: Monday-Thursday

Seven Days: Friday-Sunday

Japan 2015

Never doubt my ability to recommend this show. One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses.

Cherry Magic AKA 30-sai made Dotei Da to Mahotsukai ni Nareru rashii

Japan 2020

The sweetest fluffiest magical realism BL, packaged as a pinning office romance, very low heat (practically chaste) but the cutest. It’s truly great.

Cherry Magic Thailand

Thai 2024

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth, with no-fuss execution from a consummate team and an OG lead pair proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up. Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it still stands. I personally like it slightly better than the Japanese live action, but I think that’s because I just really like Thai BL and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better than any other iteration. As it should be from Thailand.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

Thai 2023

IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but no as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy BL... from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show could easily have earned a 10/10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls in the final quarter. Argh. Whatever.

All about the ecstasy and the agony here.

Restart After Come Back Home AKA Risutato wa tadaima no ato de

Japan 2020

Atmospheric study in rural Japan meets complex family dynamics built on a romance framework of city boy meets country boy, grumpy/sunshine. It’s beautiful and icy sweet. Slow moving in places but ultimately worth the patience, low heat, low angst, and stunning.

Given

Japan 2021

Boy joins band, falls in love with other boy. The singing is terrible, fast forward through that but with the possible exception of the hair styles, this BL could have been made in 2015 and no one would be surprised. As such, it wasn’t ground breaking, but it didn’t disappoint either.

Make a Wish

Thai 2023

A doctor who can see the dead strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love (from Sammon: Manner of Death & Triage). Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not-Ohm, but who tf cares because Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but still satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay AF - fag hag bestie and all the swagger. The cast is excellent even if the comedic stylings are a bit overblown and tonally off. It had sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency. Definitely recommended.

2 Moons The Ambassador AKA 2 Moons 3

Thai 2022

A Thai pulp that felt like it came out 5 yrs prior, with many of the flaws inherent to that time and studio system, including manufactured angst and convoluted plot, but an ultimately sweet main couple that (as a pairing) feels a bit more modern and satisfying to watch than they started out. This will probably go down in history as one of the few BLs where I genuinely didn’t care about any of the side couples. All that said, I find this show oddly appealing and rewatchable and I have no excuses for that except, I enjoyed it probably more than it deserved. Nostalgia & d**k, it's what's for dinner.

I Want to See Only You AKA Kimi no Koto Dake Mite Itai

Japan 2022

This is a beautiful well acted piece of cinema, about two boys who are opposite personalities and grew up together. Gifted and serious Sakura pines after outgoing eccentric manic pixie dream boy, Yuma. It is very pretty and this is the kind of atmospheric elegantly performed BL that only really comes from Japan (complete with dead fish kisses - what you though Korea invented them? oh no). If you want something stylish, this is it.

Triage

Thai 2022

BL does Groundhog Day featuring a doctor stuck in a time loop who must save a poor little rich boy from death by seducing the stuffing out of him, then PLOT TWIST, poor little rich boy must do the same for the doctor! Unfortunately... stuffing keeps leaking. I thought the plot was engaging if a little redundant and occasionally exhausting. The pairs were all well done, low heat but with decent chemistry and the support characters were likable (or unlikable, as required). If anything, the romance arc detracted and distracted from the main plot, but that doesn't stop this from being a genuinely good show.

HONORABLE MENTION

Great Men Academy

Thai 2019

Bodyswap involving unicorns turning a teenage girl into a boy makes this questionable as a BL (because, ya know, gender). But the fact remains that James is killer in the lead, and I (who do not like bodyswap) loved this damn show. Look, there is actual plot, hotties at boarding school, "bully the one you love" trope, some weird VR shit, very bad CGI, and yes, the boys end up together... whether they boys or not, so to speak.

Some of these shows may appear on a smaller streaming service, like WeTV, or they may be on a legal platform in your territory. I hope it goes without saying you should check there first.

(source)

This list updated Spring 2024, not responsible for cool stuff that went missing (or was added to a platform) after that date.

It's it last in a series the rest of which are:

[kazumist]

EPISODE 9 ✦ PRES? ARE YOU OKAY?

LOVE, MAYBE — A CHILDE SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 495.

cw: mentions of parents arguing (nothing too descriptive), reader cries (sorry its for the plot that reader goes through it in this smau erm)

the cold wind kissed your cheeks as you slowly walked in the streets. with nothing but the street lights and a few stray cats accompanying you on your spontaneous night walk, it still felt quite lonely.

you were used to it—the fighting, the raised voices, the hushed cries your mother makes because of the argument that occurred. it was nothing new to you; it was simply something that you had to get used to. it wasn’t like the other cheated; it was more like they just… fell out of love as their marriage went on. they noticed each other’s flaws more in their marriage lives, and they eventually couldn’t find the love that started blooming before. it wilted before it could even reach it’s full bloom.

sometimes you wonder if they would’ve been happy if they didn’t have children. not because you hated your existence—but because having children is a huge responsibility. and it would cost quite a lot too. if neither of you nor nicolette were born, would they be happier? would they still be in love? you probably won’t know the answer to that.

a stray cat approaches you and stops right before your feet. it started nuzzling its head by your feet, the cold feeling of its fur rubbing against your skin. kneeling down to pet it, you sighed. “you probably have it hard too, huh? i wonder how life could be cruel to a cute little guy like you,” you said as you petted it. the cat just meows in response.

sure, you were what they called “a hopeless romantic," but honestly? there are times when you doubt if love is even real. you do accept that love is a wonderful and beautiful thing, because it is! however, maybe it’s not for you. because seeing what could’ve been a precious and everlasting love break with your own two eyes as a child is already enough reason for you to doubt the whole concept of love in itself.

the cat soon leaves you and you continue on with your walk. you didn’t wanna go back just yet. because if you did, you might as well feel suffocated by the bad tension between your parents for the rest of the night.

maybe it’s just the fact that everything feels overwhelming for you at the moment but you didn’t know when you started to cry. you didn’t realize that there were already a few tears rolling down your cheeks as you continued to walk. and the cold weather of the night isn’t helping because it just makes your nose clog up even more.

as you wipe your tears away, you didn’t expect to hear a question you really needed.

“pres? are you okay?”

you stopped in your tracks and looked up. it was none other than tartaglia once again. and you cursed yourself for letting him see you in such a vulnerable state at some hour in the night.

“what are you doing here?”

taglist (open): @xianyoon @blue-b3rries @kizakiss @kissingkzuha @aethion @phtogravi @ell1e2010 @esthelily @b4tm4nn @hcmay @ivvieene @morganadorodo @kaitfae @kentply @scaranthropy @kyon-cherri @kookiibun @kochothehoe @mekiiiii @ibyobi @iuspired @tetsuskei @kunikuzushis-darling @morgyyyyyyy @chluuvr @scaradooche @kissmiere @a1-ic3 @bubblegum-angelquartz @tiredjxnna @levlucs-kiru @angeilix @cerisescherries @saeskiss @a-talkative-corn @briluvspnk @kamisatoyato @bbysatoruuu @viviixoxosblog @bambisz @chemiru @eternal-dokja @bflyprincess @jamieexistss @monocerosei @enjisthings @jangyung @hahalame @cupid-spams @snzhrchy @ukinya @luciledreamz

[dappledpaintbrush]

If it becomes more than a dream, what do you think a Super Paper Mario movie would be like?

Please write down everything you have to say, it doesn't matter if it's a 100 page essay I would like to read it.

When I finally get not only yapping permission, but also yapping endorsement

I think about the SPM movie a LOT. Not because I think it’s going to happen but because I’m insane. I also think it works better as a show, but I always must migrate to thinking of it as a movie lol. I talk a lot I’m gonna divide my thoughts into sections (Again, I’m turning off reblogs because reblogging an ask gets rid of the read-more, I’m sorry!! It’s for the best LMAO)

Rating:

I would LOVE if they addressed it like the FNAF movie. I remember people talking about how “oh it’s gonna be for kids because it’s a kid’s franchise and they’re gonna make more money if they made it for kids” but they made it PG-13 and. Everything was fine. They made a shit ton of money and everything was fine. Point is, I think SPM would work best as a PG-13 movie. And yeah it sounds like that one clip of SpongeBob and Patrick screaming in terror on a baby rollercoaster, but SPM does have elements that would be Difficult to put in a movie format and still make it rated PG. With the game, it can be passed off as cartoon mischief and thus be E for everyone, sure, but in a movie? I don’t see it. And let me clarify- I know they could make the hypothetical SPM movie be rated PG and still have its original plot, but I believe that is only if they cut down on a lot of things and make it very goofy and overall remove the heart of the story. But do I think it would be fucking PEAK as a PG-13 movie? Hell yeah. They could have a lot more leg-room to truly pay homage to the game, which is known as one of Mario’s darker stories for a good reason.

But do I believe they would make it PG-13? No. Definitely PG. Again, I know this is a Mario game and it’s not some super evil sick twisted story oh my god cover your eyes little timmy blah blah blah, but STILL. Pulling off some of its core scenes on the big screen where there’s SO much more detail in the animation and the voice acting etc etc etc would be hard to accomplish without making said scenes less impactful or even shallow. And if you still think I’m being dramatic, the mario movie is rated PG. The Mario movie. And all Mario did was get punched and got a bruise on his eye. I’m sure if there was a storyboard scene of him, Luigi, Bowser, and Peach getting set on fire and going to the afterlife, it would have been SCRAPPED. OR, it would have absolutely no emotion other than “erm… THAT just happened!” Take your pick.

All in all, if it were to happen, the SPM movie will lose some things. Nintendo would NEVER allow Mario to be in an PG-13 movie. It’s unfortunate :(

Speaking of the Afterlife:

Nintendo will have to cut out the Underwhere, Overthere, Grambi, and maybe even Luvbi and Bonechill. OR, completely revamp that whole thing to make it as religiously ambiguous as possible. No fucking doubt about it. At ALL. I can already see the change.org petition run by a Christian mother screaming at Nintendo for blaspheming God and making a joke out of heaven and hell “which are very real and you’re teaching kids it’s some silly fake thing in a fake Mario movie BUT NO PEOPLE HAS TO KNOW THEY WILL BURN FOREVER IF THEY DONT OBEY!!!” (Note: just in case it wasn’t obvious, I am mocking the Christian mother in the quotation marks). I’m surprised Nintendo even got away with it in the first place, ESPECIALLY regarding Luvbi and Bonechill. I put “maybe” regarding those two because it’s likely 2 and 2 won’t be put together about who inspired their characters, but at the same time. It probably will. Yeah it definitely will

Bonechill is directly inspired by Satan, and Luvbi makes indirect references to Jesus. Regarding Bonechill, to quote from his Wiki:

“Tippi's tattle says that Bonechill may have once been a Nimbi, which is supported by the fact that he has feathered wings on his back. This fits into the overall motif of The Underwhere and The Overthere, which draw heavily from both Ancient Greek mythology and the Christian religion. In particular, the concept of a fallen angel (Nimbi) is inspired by the Biblical story of Lucifer, who became the devil after betraying God. Furthermore, in Dante's Inferno (of the epic Italian poem, the Divine Comedy), Lucifer (now known as Satan) is depicted as a giant, six-winged beast imprisoned in ice in the deepest circle of Hell. This is all paralleled by how Bonechill has six wings, was imprisoned deep below the Underwhere, and is a self-styled "master of the cold dark" who uses ice breath to attack and is "something of an evil celebrity in certain circles of the Underwhere". Similarly, his being released during an apocalyptic event (the emergence of The Void) may be derived from the Book of Revelation, where Satan escapes from hell and he and his army are battled and defeated in heaven.”

Do you see that shit. Do you think Nintendo would risk doing this in a movie, let alone ever again in any game?The backlash would be INSANE. And they could easily call Luvbi a blasphemous mockery of Jesus because she sacrificed herself to save the world, AND CAME BACK LATER😭😭😭😭😭

Anyways, yeah. In the SPM movie, that whole chapter of the game is what’s going to be changed the most. It likely will be solely based off Greek mythology with no Christian themes involved. Or even LESS than that if they’re too scared. God I wish they weren’t. That chapter is one of my favorites in the whole game (mostly bc it’s crazy to me how Nintendo didn’t chicken out of making it), and it sucks so bad to know it’ll likely be almost nonexistent if the SPM movie were to happen.

Run-Time:

This game is. Long.

In my perfect world, I like to think of it as one big grand movie and it’s the longest animated movie ever made and it’s animated by Dreamworks in the style of Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and it has 5/5 stars and critics are crying and screaming of joy and everybody who clowned on this game has personally showed up to my door to apologize for their wrongdoing and beg for my forgiveness. But unfortunately we can’t have everything we want

I don’t think they will cut out any of the dimensions, I just think that most side plots will be rushed through like a montage :/ It’s why I think it will work best as a series. Every episode could be dedicated to a Dimensional Door. But that also means it’ll likely have less of a budget which sucks

Blumiere and Dimentio:

Something will have to change.

First of all, Blumiere. I don’t exactly know HOW, but they will have to change about his story. The game itself has already gotten criticized for “romanticizing a toxic relationship” between Blumiere and Timpani, and that criticism will be MAGNIFIED with a blockbuster film. Again, I don’t know how the will do it, but they’ll have to adjust that plot to please the masses more than likely. It fucking sucks. But this is modern Nintendo. They are going to go the safest route possible.

That’s not the only thing regarding Blumiere that will have change. Yk how the game also gets criticized for giving Blumiere a happy ending but not Dimentio despite the fact that, regardless of their motivations, they both tried to kill everyone? That criticism will also be magnified with the release of a movie. They’ll have to modify the story to make Blumiere’s actions significantly less evil than Dimentio’s, which could be accomplished through making it so that Blumiere is mind-controlled by the Dark Prognosticus. OR, they’ll have to give Dimentio a happy ending too, whether that be he survives and changes his ways (BOOOOO🍅🍅🍅), or he also gets the “he’s alive somewhere” treatment like Blumiere and Timpani did. However, in order to accomplish that successfully with an audience of five years olds, they’ll have to directly talk about Dimentio’s own tragic backstory with as much weight as they do Blumiere’s. And l. Don’t see that happening. It would be absolutely CRAZY if it did and I would probably pass out in the theatre if we got to see the Pixl Creator, but yeah, it’s unlikely.

Mr. L:

Some good news! I see them making Mr. L recognizable

They probably won’t.

BUT THEY LIKELY WILL

In the first movie, Mario and Luigi’s bond was shown in ways they have rarely done before. Their love and care for one another is clearly shown, not just “that’s my brother Luigi wahoo!” or something. I mean come on, think of the hug scene. And you mean to tell me in the 2nd or 3rd or idk movie, Mario can’t recognize him with a blindfold on? Be serious

In a game, yeah haha funny gag, but in a movie, it’ll be met with more annoyance than anything and it’ll be really disingenuous, and it already does get that criticism in the game where it’s arguably “more acceptable.”

Conclusion:

There’s a lot more that can be discussed, but this is all I’ve put a significant lot of thought into about what I think the SPM movie would be like if I thought about it realistically. Basically, if it’s gonna truly be an SPM movie, Nintendo’s gonna have to grow a backbone. But even then, I still think it would be a great movie, especially in the eyes of those who haven’t played the game and thus don’t have the same “ARGHH BUT YOU FORGOT FLIP-FOLK NUMBER FORTY TWO” mentality that I have LMAO. And even THEN, I still think it would be a great movie. Nintendo will just have to be reaaaally careful to adapt to the limitations (that they put on themselves 💀) and still make it a movie about Super Paper Mario.

[starsinthenigth]

Momohiki Ash (OC) x Yandere!Rise!Donatello Hamato Headcanons !!

★pulled straight from my wat-padd account★

— |✷| REQUESTED & ORIGINAL CHARACTER BY: @ash1kun !!

— |✷| ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC: romantic.-

—|✷| TROPES: yandere x oc, fluff. . . I think.-

— |✷| TRIGGER WARNING: Subtle mention of stalking, trackers, overprotective themes, subtle murder implication (??), manipulation (I think??), hints of isolation (??), themes of violence at some point-

— |✷| CONTENT WARNING: Donatello and the OC may be OCC.. So, I apologise in advance for that, me saying 'maybe' and 'migth' WAYYYY too many times.-

— |✷| NOTES: I might repeat certain words over and over since my dum-dum brain can't think of synonyms. And I refuse to search up the synonyms up on Google. Once again, I'm sorry if both characters are OCC. Also, any form criticism is welcome, along with advices. Please point out if I made any sort of mistake uur, yeah.-

— |☆| Alright, so, with Ash Momohiki being the same species of turtle as Donatello, aka, a softshell one, the first thing that came to my mind is that- erm, Donnie would make them their very own Battle Shell as well. -

—|☆| Of course he filled it up with all of his lover's favourite things, along with notes about their shared interests and stuff. He, as well, made sure it keeps em' safe while they are outside or near danger. Not only via protecting their shell though, but he also made sure that whatever enemy crosses their way, let's just say, urh, won't bother them again. As his creative genius mind had an idea to make an. Ahem. 'Automatic Battle Shell' for them !! Meaning it will activate when a hatred individual or enemy, such as, the Purple Dragons, are near. -

— |☆| Maybe, for extra measures of safety, he might add a som erm, equipment, to his partner's tech-pet, Plut!! Although, he might- well, he will ask for Ash's permission for him to further advance Plut. He might add more weapons to the little..well, massive- tech-dragon than he already has, maybe even a tracker. Or two. Or three. Or four. He will absolutely make sure that he won't damage or malfunction Plutonium in any way, though, he promises !!

— |☆| .. however, he could, with what I assume would be a heavy heart- make a few sneaky adjustments to Plut's personality. Y'know, to make sure that Ash doesn't spend all of their time with their tech-child. He swears it's not that of crucial change, he swears -

— |☆| Maybe his tech will make them admire him, and his genius mindset even more than they already do. He might keep his partner in his lab, disguising the fact that he wants em to stay for longer via giving long, long excited rambles about his tech and interests. Of course, he will let Ash ramble and infodump about everything they like as well. Though, it's not only because he just wants their presence near him, he also likes to see them happy and excitedly spout out about their likings, as well as their own pieces of technology and inventions. Perhaps letting them express themselves through their own ways and preferences might just be one of the few, if not only things that get them show positive emotions. Or maybe, perhaps he could extract anger or jealousy out of them, since they could possibly have things in common that may not be so likeable, or maybe even people.-

— |☆| I can honestly see Donnie expressing his hatred to Ash about the Purple Dragon's tech club and once he finds out that they- as well hate them and that consider them pests, he might just get a boost to plot against them.. or make more plots against the those satin wrapped punks, that is. I doubt that any form of hesitation to cause any sort of trouble, or perhaps even violence to those stuck-up jerks would still linger in his brain honestly, especially if Ash themselves, express violent thoughts towards them. Or just a little bit of disliking towards the Purple Dragons is enough to give them one more reason into hunting 'em down, I suppose.-

— |☆| Another excuse to get 'em to stay might be through, well, playdates.. with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N and Plutonium that is. Maybe the two will watch over them. Maybe Ash will stay as well, since I doubt that they would strife away from their child-like figure and that, for Donatello, is a win, since they get to spend more time in the safety and comfort of his lab !!- |☆| He will as well make positive little comments about them and their work, maybe give them more praise with each passing day. Praise that might slowly escalate to him trying to convince Ash that he might be the only who sees their actual worth. Although, he'd do it through little hints and stuff and he won't be straight forward with it. Not for now at least.-

— |☆| Oh, he learns about their intrusive thoughts that they get while they are being alone?? Oh no no no. He can't possibly have his own partner be tormented by such dark thoughts. He is going to stay close to them for as long as humanly, or mutant-ly possible. Their situation kind of reminds me of when Raph is alone and he becomes 'Savage Raph', so he might try to help them through ways that he would help his older brother. However, I feel like making mental notes and, erh, documenting about stuff that they could do in order to calm down, may be more suitable for them. -

— |☆| Although, their own tormenting and dark imaginations could be used as a weapon against them. He might use it as a punishment for them if they ever, well, try to leave him. Maybe if they start noticing the little changes in his personality that is. I'm not sure. Sure, guilt might roll in him for leaving his lover in such a state, but hey, he will surely find a way to calm them down soon. So, he shoves the liability of his actions away, and his mind starts swarming around to collect all of the countless stuff and little habits that he has mentally kept about them. So, hopefully or most likely, trying to find what calms them down should be easier now. While seeing them struggle to regulate their own emotions, which is something that he himself understands, he also doesn't want them walking out on him. No, not when he found someone that he deeply relates to and admires to no extent.-

— |☆| ..But he doesn't have to worry about that. Why would they leave if they are basically head over heels for him along with the praise that he gives them? After all, he and his brothers- well, mostly him, have filled their soul with the much needed and wanted hope that they lost. Plus, he could just be the only one present who will show them actual appreciation.

— |☆| Hm? Brothers who? Eh they don't understand much about tech and rarely care for it- despite them most likely giving warm hearted compliments about Ash's equipment- !! He understands them better, they both share the same likes and dislikes- they are both hunting and eating whatever praise is given to them !! So, since they love and understand each other, and since Donatello can keep them safe, is there really any need for them to walk out of his life?

[coffeesleep-ooc]

For your last anon, I have 2 things to say:

1. I think the lack of stress on the early days can be inferred to say something about SQQ, something about how SQQ is doesn’t find these moments as important because he’s planning/worrying/etc over the post-IAC events. Though I see it more as he saw those days as just an everyday thing, doting on LBH. He’s really sweet bc that’s his blorbo!! Ofc being nice to him is so easy even outside of the golden thighs part!! And!!! LBH, an easily impressionable teen is going to care a lot more about this when he’s not used to getting this kind of treatment- not just form SQQ- but from the peak. I mean even with NingNing, she’s seen to make the bullying worse- not on purpose though I still love her <3- so even the “kind” person he knows, kindness backfires.

2. I do think the “first person to show kindness” thing is so not true bc literally the first scene we see with ningning and lbh he’s snarky! And that may be after meeting the qi deviated SQQ but iirc it was immediately after so there’s no real interference. And the rest of the scene played out without SQQ doubting the plot events. Also OG!LBH had a harem of any women just because he wanted to prove himself, it’s a power fantasy not a romance. Imo if it was the “first person to shwo kindness” argument it kinda falls flat since ogLBH didn’t care about his wives the way a loving person would. He literally just married any woman to prove his power lol. (Though some could argue that’s because he reached a point of no return, but this isn’t my post to rant lol)

Hello again!!! It’s really nice to keep hearing your thoughts! And honestly i agree with most of what you say!

I believe that og!LBH may at some point thought to himself that he loved them all, but in the way you love shiny stuff that you collect and put on a shelf and sometimes play with? There is indeed power in keeping so many women and taking so many women from their houses, tribes, even husbands or sweethearts. I believe this is not bc LBH forces them to, but we all know that his presence attracts women according to the laws of the universe Airplane created. I believe these power fantasies are sometimes reflections of men that have been taught that having many women surrounding you and wanting you (to be a protector or just for your looks or body or whatever) makes you powerful and superior, this is also reflected on LBH having the heavenly sky pillar like SQQ calls it…bc we have been taught that erm…bigger makes you more proud or stuff like this.

I think I’m deviating to talking about toxic masculinity ksjdkskdjd but anyways! The point in sv is precisely that this absolute character of a man in SQQ’s eyes suddenly (not really suddenly though) turns around and becomes a person with wants and needs and what he wants is actually his old teacher. SQQ does not take this well lmao

But its also true that SQQ treats LBH’s disciple days like a calm period…i mean who wouldn’t! Imagine that you have transmigrated into the character with probably the worst death at the hands of your fav chara…i’d cry XD

I believe that dissociating a bit was normal in this scenario, but SQQ took it to the extreme, he thought that canon was written in stone, without taking into account that his presence and actions could make ripple changes to everyone including the protagonist, he thought his influence extended just to make his death less graphic, and maybe make the protagonist treat people a bit better, in short, he was too humble at first and too oblivious at the end (i mean pre IAC)

He also is trying to play his obsession with a character (first) and with his disciple (later) as something that is completely normal and cool. Cool as a cucumber. Jokes on you SY.

At least we recognize how into a character we are you silly man. Though i also understand him bc LBH post abyss is scary and powerful af even if inside he is still a crybaby wife that pines hard lmao

Brain just conjured the image of LBH meeting SQQ for the first time after the abyss while internally being: I JUST WANT TO MARRY SHIZUN IS THAT SO HARD QAQ

again, thanks for sending me your thoughts! Im happy to answer what i think or have observed from sv and fics~ brainrot for sv is too strong anyways

[lavander-gooms]

Fellas, I think I finally got (noir) Peter Parker's age.

Alright, I know what you may be thinking, that you've read posts like this before that basically end with "erm they say he's a kid so I uhh guess he's 19" (we've all thought this ngl).

Let us begin, shall we?

This mostly began because I hated Felicia and Peter together.

I love Peter's noir comics so much, everything Peter goes through is such awesome writing and symbolism (Peter swearing to take power away from people who abuse it and then ends up abusing his own power ahgdgsgdgag) but Felicia' and Peter's "love story" weirdo lust pedo sub plot gave me the major ick.

Tbh I got tired of people defending this ship because they "didn't know Peter's age". I really wanted to prove them wrong. So I am.

And I just want to know.

Let's boogy.

Peter is referred to as a kid numerous times.

Above are most of the times Peter is called/referred to as a kid in the first comic run (which was only three issues).

I couldn't fit all of them, gosh darn Tumblr.

Anyways, it's clear that Peter appears as a child to all of the character, due to all of them referring to his as a kid. Every character he interacts with as Peter Parker calls him "kid" or "son" or "boy" (etc.). He obviously appears as/is a kid, or they wouldn't have made it a point to keep saying this.

Okay, so this means Peter's a kid. We can eliminate all ages over 21 and under 12. You were considered an adult at age 21 (age of consent was 18- https://worldhistorycommons.org/age-consent-laws -). And I think we can all agree that Peter isn't 12.

My next idea was to turn to the original age of when most Peter Parkers were bit. The problem is, it's all at scattered ages. The most common one I found was he was bit at 15.

But is noir Peter Parker really 15? No. Bear with me.

I came to this conclusion and sank to the ground and cried out in agony. Truly noir Peter Parker's age was a mystery, I thought. So I gave up.

But I was rereading the comic, and noticed a tiny tiny detail I overlooked upon my past rereads.

Here is the comic panel where the Goblin dies via spidery-Kraven, and Peter just watches. While Peter is watching, he thinks back to the time Uncle Ben snuck him in to see Frankenstein.

Okay, there are two versions of Frankenstein Peter could be talking about here.

The first Frankenstein that ever came out was the 16 minute long version on March 18th, 1910. Now, that's way further back than I think Ben would've taken Peter to go see it, as AT MOST (if he's 21) Peter was born in 1912. It is possible Ben took Peter to see a rerun of the 1910 version, but reruns were incredibly rare and the 1910 version of Frankenstein was deemed to be lost until the 1950s (I don't know WHEN it was lost). If Peter was taken to see the 1910s version as a child it could have given him nightmares. But I really doubt this is the Frankenstein movie Peter was referencing.

The second movie is the one I believe to be the movie Peter saw with Ben. This Frankenstein came out on November 21st, 1931. It fits much more with the time line, and fits the whole "couple years back" things (a couple means two to you guys too, right??).

Okay, so we know the date of the movie that Ben snuck Peter into. But, there is one very important word in that sentence. Snuck.

Either, a- Peter wasn't old enough to see the movie,

Or b- Aunt May didn't want him to see the movie.

The 1931 Frankenstein revolutionized the horror movie genre, and brought with it an outrage from the church and adults. It was censored mercilessly, and brought around the "H" rating that deemed anyone under the age of 16 was too young to see. But this came as a result of Frankenstein, in 1932ish in Britian and 1934ish in America. So when did Peter see the movie?

This is where my argument gets flimsy.

We can assume he saw the uncensored version as it gave him nightmares, so I speculatate he saw it around the same time as it's release date.

Peter was under 16 when he saw the Frankenstein movie, due to Ben having to sneak him into the movie.

OR

Peter was freshly 16 and begged Uncle Ben to let him see the movie, he's old enough isn't he? And Ben can't say no to his nephew so they sneak around Aunt May to go and see it together.

Either of these two are plausible, but I'm going to go with the second.

Mostly all the Peter Parkers were born around August/October, so we'll keep that.

On November 21st, 1931 (or whenever he saw the movie) Peter Parker is 16 years old.

Which, one year later, makes him 17. And as the comics take place January 1933, we can make the safe assumption that Peter is 17. Which means in September, he's 18/about to turn 18.

Whew. I think I got it. If you have any other stuff please give it to me 🙏

Felicia and Peter relationship study coming soon.

[let-your-chaos-explode]

Hi. Could you please write a clarissa dovey x reader story?

Dear Anon,

Your wish is my command! This was going to be a one-shot, but then I decided I had more of a plot than originally planned and has now turned into a multi-chapter fic. However, for the sake of getting it out to you sooner, the first chapter is a very brief intro. Stay tuned!

Glissando

You stood, trunks at your feet, staring at the majestic School for Evil. The castle was just as you remembered it from your own schooling so many years ago. It stood tall against the blushing pinks and reds of the rising dawn behind it. A breathtaking sight really…one beautiful enough to paint. You decided to do exactly that once you get settled in your new rooms. 

You pulled out your golden time piece from a hidden pocket of your dress. Three minutes gone half past six. It was unlike Professor Dovey to be late. 

You turned, and from the corner of your eye you saw her running toward you from the gardens. It was a slightly comical sight. The fairy godmother hustled across the expansive lawn with her voluminous skirts held aloft and sharp stiletto heels sinking in the grass as she stumbled forward. She lurched forward as her shoe caught on the cobbled path. Quickly, you reached out to catch her and steadied her on her feet. 

“Oh!” She cried, grasping your arms tightly. “Y/N! So good to see you! And good catch!”

Dovey shoots you a blinding smile in clear appreciation. For a moment, you forget yourself and you stand there looking at her dumbly. Her eyes crinkle softly in the corners and you swiftly (awkwardly) release her from your hold, cheeks flushing a violent violet. 

“Yes, erm…it has been a while, hasn’t it?” You said, clearing your throat loudly. 

“Five years is entirely too long! When was the last time we saw each other?” Dovey asked as she hooked her arm through yours and started walking toward the castle. 

As if an afterthought, the golden-haired woman raises a glowing finger and your trunks start floating behind you as you walk. 

“It was Rapunzel’s wedding, wasn’t it? Or was it Queen Anna’s coronation?” You pondered. 

You had your reasons. Perfectly valid, justifiable, not-at-all inappropriate reasons for keeping your distance. 

“That’s right! The wedding! You played the harp.” She sighed wistfully, shaking her head leaning a bit more into your side. 

It wasn’t at all that you were without a doubt, truly, hopelessly, fucked. 

“Truly, you work some magic with your fingers.” Dovey said seriously, causing you to choke a little on your own saliva. 

Because you were in love with Clarissa Dovey, Dean of the School for Good, best Fairy Godmother in the realm, epitome of grace and beauty. 

Dovey halted her steps and turned to check on your well-being. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Yes, Professor Dovey.” You wheezed through the residual coughs. 

Her hand came to rest on your back, rubbing soothing circles as you caught your breath. Her brows pinched tightly and a small frown tugged at her perfectly painted lips. 

“Please call me Clarissa!” She protested. “We’ve known each other quite long enough! And now we get to work together.”

You shrugged casually and allowed a small smile to brighten your face. “Clarissa it is.”

You both attended the School for Good and Evil around the same time. Even then, you had admired her. She has always been a golden beacon of goodness. It was impossible not to notice her. But it wasn’t until you both chose the path of the lonely as fairy godmothers…forever helping others achieve true love and happiness, but never your own. 

The joke was on the Storian, really. You had sworn off princes. You never explicitly stated anything about princesses…or other fairy godmothers. 

The thing about fairy tales, though, was they were essentially all the same. How many times did you hear of a prince finding another prince? Or a maiden slaying a dragon to claim the hand of a princess? To your knowledge, there was yet to be a successful story with those endings. And the realm was rather…sticky about the way things needed to be done. That was why you settled for the life of a fairy godmother. Forget arranged royal marriages and babies, that was never going to be your story. 

Clarissa nodded happily and another perfect smile lit her face. She gestured to the opening doors and led you inside with a gentle hand at your lower back. 

“Well, then…shall we?” She beamed. “Welcome home, Y/N.”

Maybe, just maybe, you might find your happy ending where it all started.

[gnomeyflamingo]

✮ Scout Hunters ✮

Been very busy this week, but I finally managed to play some more of the legacy. Since Atreo's the official heir now, I'm giving him a little side plot for important character development. Here he is heading off to his scout meeting.

Atreo: “Yay we’re in the scouts together, let’s perform the special interaction we both know for some reason.”

Kiry: “We performed that intricate handshake excellently.”

Atreo: “Loving the positive vibes! It’s a great distraction from the crippling doubts I’m suppressing!”

Atreo: “That reminds me. I have amazing news, I’m the official heir.”

Kiry: “Congratulations? Oh you want a hug, yes? Uhm, am I doing it right?”

Atreo: “It doesn’t matter. Just pretend with me that being heir is a really good thing."

Atreo: “I didn’t know you joined the Scouts too Zehra.”  

Zehra: “Wherever you go, I go. You’ll never escape my love for you. ”  

Atreo: “Creepy. Erm... Oh hey Aldo, what’s up?"  

Aldo: “Just thinking of my plans with Asmara-”  

Atreo: “Never mind, stop talking.”

Camille: “Attention children! It's time to listen to me." 

*All kids gather* 

Camille: "I'm going to tell you about what it means to be a scout.” 

Kiry: “I hope it’s all about pursuing your one true interest obsessively.” 

Atreo: “If it means I have to be nice to Acco, I’m out.”

Camille: “It takes a specific set of skills to be a scout. You need to be cunning, think on your feet, gather intel.”

Zehra: “I like this scout thing.”

Aldo: “I said you would!”

Camille: “And lots of sharpening sticks, to plunge through hearts of the undead.”

All kids: "Huh?”

Jayce: “This is NOT epic.”

Atreo: “What’s your deal? Planting garlic for wreaths, learning vampire lore. This sucks.”

Camille: “Vampires suck boy. You’ll be grateful for this knowledge when they come for your true love."

Atreo: “Can’t you please teach us something useful?"

Camille: “Vampires are fierce foes. If you’re ever unlucky enough to encounter one unprepared, you must learn to escape quickly. And what better way is there than by using the fastest mode of transport in game? Get on your bikes.”

Atreo: “I guess this is useful.”

Camille: “Remember this, if you can get away from me, you’ll escape a vampire with no problems. Now start peddling and brace yourselves little hunters-I mean scouts.”  

*transforms into werewolf*  

Kids: “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Camille: *grunts dangerously*  

Atreo: “What the- AHHHHHH! WHY?! WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”  

Camille: *vicious snarls*  

Atreo cycles away in terror from his werewolf scout leader, as she ferociously pursues him and unlocks his bike riding milestone. Such a fast learner. I’m proud 😊

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❧ Back to the Legacy Archive

[bytedykes]

[ID: Four stickman memes. They are: a crying stickman laying on its back in a pool of tears, hands over its face. A stickman grabbing another's cheeks and screaming in their face. A stickman biting its own arm bloody. A red-eyed teary stickfigure grimacing and holding up a thumbs up. /end ID]

^ just finished twatf moodboard. my thoughts under the cut

genuinely so good. i am sick. i am wailing. i am going to throw up.

ok i lied it wasnt like, groundbreaking, but i did enjoy it! and it did give me new kinds of mental illness. im not typically into the "overpowered protagonist" trope at all but i feel like in this case it was more of a vehicle for the philosophy of the novel than the actual. point? im not a literature analysis person haha

i doubt i would have read this novel if it weren't by singshong. it is just generally not my thing. but im glad i did! i liked the character and i thought it was quite clever and funny, the world building was interesting (despite how overly complicated it is) and some parts made me so. oughhhbg. tearing my hair out

i also really enjoyed looking at this from a "how it compares to orv" standpoint (that's also the main reason i decided to read it). i liked seeing the "prototype" ideas in here that resemble parts of orv that were more developed/refined. and i liked the most specific messages that resembled orv's! there were a few bits regarding walls and connection that made me want to erm shrivel up and die

i guess i didn't really understand the ending but i don't think it was awful. those last 3 chapters are honestly what was worst to me, if i had stopped reading on chapter 244 i might have been happier with the openness of it. seeing all of jaehwan's friends dying and sirwen being left alone in the world was depressing as hell and didn't really feel necessary

orv is known for having everything in it and managing to pull off the most unhinged plots and details so i enjoyed seeing that same principle in twatf dsdjskks it threw a lot of things that i didnt expect at all and a lot of them were absurd but all together i think it made it work

goddd some parts just hit very close. maybe not the overall themes but some specific sections made me put my phone down and stare into space... the fall of time arc... the conversation jaehwan has with the long lived race after he's figured out the unclothing... what andersen tells him before she chooses to fight myad... many such cases

some of the criticisms for it that ive seen online are about the bad translation which is fair but i dont think that necessarily reflects the quality of the actual novel? idk the crappy translation and many typos did make it harder to read but i was still able to mostly understand what was happening and i got used to it pretty quickly. i do wish that the side characters were more developed, i was really interested in them and it felt like a lot of their development was dropped or forgotten, but i did love what growth was shown

i liked jaehwan!!! he is such a sopping wet silly guy. guy who is in the horrors forever. guy who is a billion years old but not actually but yes he is. guy who is so autism eyes incarnate. i liked him as a character and i liked following his journey even with his at times repetitive ideas and simple op solutions to everything. it was fun!

i enjoyed the characters in general, karlton grew on me for some reason lol... i liked anderson and runald a lot also... i liked how despite his identity as a lonely existence that works alone, jaehwan did actually forge so many bonds with people he met and did reciprocate them! him and yoonhwan, him hiring claire and meikal for govt positions when he became master of gorgon, him training with chunghuh, his care for runald and anderson, him verbally calling the fallbringers his friends when they reunite, even eventually his friendship with beastlain! i wasn't expecting him to make so many connections because of how set he is on doing everything alone, so i was really happy to see that he does consider them friends and isnt just coldly moving through the world alone, despite what his actions say

really liked the whole lore about [clothes]. i thought that was really cool. did not like the repeated instances of sexual harassment and pervy lines throughout the book

ive been telling people to read orv left and right, but in contrast twatf is a kind of novel that i dont think i would necessarily recommend to anyone (especially not to anyone who wasn't already an enjoyer of this genre and/or more "out there" plots in general) but i did enjoy reading it myself. however i would say that it provided some cool/valuable/fun insight into orv and singshong's writing in general so maybe i would recommend it to someone who has already read orv and wanted to expand on that

overall i did like it!!! i dont think ill be rereading it any time soon but i had fun reading and stewing over it :)

[butchfacedhornet]

Just a question. How did you find my blog and why did you like my stuff? Like I know you'd hate me. You'd be so anti me so I'm like haha why'd you interact.

I mean I'd block you because there's nothing more depressing and attention seeking than running a blog based on hate. Your username and pfp are aimed towards hating one piece of media which is undeniably problematic in nature, while your header and blog focus on hating on a guy who has been dead for over 100 years and was a product of his time period (which doesn't make it acceptable, it just makes it sadly stereotypical—also to the best of my knowledge he never spoke out against Jewish people, although at times he wrote in poor nature which is unacceptable, yes, but also rooted in his perception of society which wasn't good and I'm not making excuses for him but rather I'm trying to explain that he wasn't radical in his thinking and if given equal social resources as today he most likely would have been perfectly accepting of Jewish people) and also given the nature of Victorian prostitutes I don't think he was as much of a nonce as you think, but you're entitled to whatever thoughts float around in your brain. Also once again, Oscar Wilde has been dead for over 100 years so it's not like he's profiting anymore.

The only reason I'm not blocking you on sight is because I'm fairly interested in what you have to say. You may have nothing at all to say, and honestly if I were you I'd just block you without response, but obviously we are two extremely different people.

Ok so trying to answer this as nicely as possible because i dont know why a random person i dont follow has so much hate for me over some shitpost and suchand i am very very very tired and people are being so very mean to me about this . Am not crytyping people say that sometimes when im tired i just an super tird . the pfp and header are just silly things based on inside jokes i thought that was a normal tumblr thing to do. Also idont know who you are i literally dont even follow you. I make a bit of a joke of hatinh oscar wilde but erm the postes i made about him were ages ago except for one of them which was literally inspired by this new york time( https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/10/11/the-myth-of-oscar-wildes-martyrdom)

or whatever article. take issue with the author from new yorker instead of little autistic guy who doesn’t know you.

take issue with the author from new yorker instead of little autistic guy who doesn’t know you. idk why people are so pressed on something i made when i was 13 and posted when i was older because i remembered my friends thought it was silly. Idk why you are so pressed over me existing. But i dont have a lot of friends on here and mostly reblog stuff i Enjoy and forget to update my profile text with any change in interestes. idk why you think i am a 100 percent hater. I dont really hate wilde as much as i hate people idolizijg him and uwu gay beaning him, but i do kinda dislike the dead guy because of that idolization amongst people who want a accessible gay victorian icon. And also because he(probably , we will never 100 percent know for sure,)had sex with drunk people snd people never tell you that in those polished dark academia pintrest quote boards. Some but not all of the court reccords of these boys say that he intoxicated them severly . And i doubt this is lies because in my research of this topic of victorian rent boys(it is special interest) many get arrested for being acomplies no matter what they say, and infact jack saul, who was very open about his gay actions, got away free fromthe cleveland street scanfal. And also not every one in wilde trials said that wilde intoxicated them so the chances of it being dreadful marquess douglas plot is slimmer. Of course we will never know forsure but rich people have always been strange and awful and i feel that people never consider the class element of things. Haha wilde wrote something on socialism. Nice. Now can we please see something by a lowerclass person maybe

Also idc if people read him more power foryou reading and analysis is really cool especially with the layered homosexual subtext wilde has(he even very lightly references fanny n stella once. Real neat stuff imo and shows how tight knit late victorian gay stuff was)

I know 5at the victorian era was messy and awful at times, i know that in france the age of consent was 13 and in Britain at the time it was 17. I know about the fact telegraph boys were basically a gay version of romanticized schoolgirls. But still there is someyhing kinda unsettling about wildes potential actions being glossed over. It is strange and offputting to see from people with multiple postes against republicans spreading lies about lgbt child groomers. Because that is just a bit of fuel to republicans fire and its painful to see people ignore that sort of thing in my mind, i am sorry if i have a weird sense of justice about dead lower class people. But i just do. Baby im an Anarchist or whatever. Words arent wording sorrythat probably sounded awful

Im sorry if you are upset by my blog i mostly a, m just rebloggimh random stufv i see that i think is cool, and such. Please dont yell at me via cyberspace i wanted to provide as good a response to you as can in this state other people are being really nasty to me over thisand idk why they care about this dead guy so much . That they have to send nasty and ablesist stuff. Sorry its just super scarry

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 7 - Independence Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale's problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper storms out of Beaumont House after having had it with Bertrand’s incessant etiquette lectures... and bumps into someone unexpected.

Word Count: 9,500* (long, I know... But...! There is a surprise! 😉)

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, Bertrand being awkward, fluff, smut)

Chapter theme song:

Bonus Material: Extract from Harper’s Scrapbook

Chapter 7 - Independence Day

"Ehm...!"

I frown in annoyance as I roll over. "Five more minutes..."

After the emotionally exhausting conversations last night, first with everyone, then with Christian, and finally with my family, Drake and I hadn't ended up hitting the sack until well past midnight. So, whatever time it is, it’s still too early to get up.

"I'm afraid not."

My eyes snap open in horror as I bolt upright. "What the hell are you doing in here!"

Bertrand is standing next to the bed, arms crossed over his tweed jacket, glaring down at me with his customary scowl of disapproval. "Waking you up. I would've thought that was self-evident."

I glance nervously to the other side of the bed... and find it to be empty.

I heave a relieved — and slightly disappointed — exhale. Drake had been true to his word and had already left. Hopefully before Bertrand came barging in like he owns the place... which, admittedly, he does, but that’s not the point.

Turning back to Bertrand, I fix him with a level look. "You can't just let yourself in willy-nilly. What if I had been changing? Or in the bathroom?"

Bertrand's stern composure wavers ever so slightly, no doubt at the memory of his mortified reaction when I had strutted around dressed in nothing but a towel back at the Palace. "I... I suppose I can knock in future."

"That would be appreciated," I acknowledge dryly, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. "What time is it anyway?"

Bertrand's eyes widen as he catches sight of the lacy underwear that I have been sleeping in before he looks studiously away. "Nine o'clock."

My mouth drops. Bertrand never lets me sleep in this late!

"Erm... thank you," I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. "For letting me have a lie-in."

A ghost of a smile teases the corner of Bertrand's mouth. "After the... excitement of last night, I reckoned you deserved some rest."

"That's one word for it..." I mutter. "Though, I'm guessing you're expecting an explanation in return."

"That would be appreciated," he confirms in the same wry tone I had used. He settles expectantly at the foot of the bed.

I take a deep breath. After his initial outburst last night, Bertrand seems to have calmed down... but there is no guarantee that he isn’t going to blow his top again after I 'fess up. Nevertheless, he is my sponsor — and landlord for the next month — and I owe him an explanation.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about turning Christian down. It... happened on the day of the Jamboree just before..."

"The Besnard incident."

I glance up at Bertrand with a raised brow. He made it sound like some kind of spy scandal or political embarrassment. But, I have to admit that it is definitely more polite than calling it what it was – battery and attempted rape.

"Err... yes," I acknowledge. "And after that, one thing happened after another and suddenly it was the Coronation Ball, so there was never really a good time to tell you..."

Not 100% true...

I could've told him in the car on the way to the Ball or before Christian's announcement, but I had been too chicken to detonate the truth bomb on the one day when Bertrand had actually been civil... and happy.

"Granted," he concedes. "But I would still be interested in hearing why you turned him down. I was under the impression that you and the now-King shared an intimate connection."

"Yes, there was a spark," I admit. "But I... I didn't come to Cordonia to pursue Christian."

Bertrand's eyes widen. "You didn't?

"Not really."

"But Maxwell assured me..."

"...that he was captivated by me, yes. And I guess I was captivated by him as well. All the components were there — the friendship, the chemistry, the trust. I mean... Christian is the definition of a perfect guy; he is good-looking, kind, charming, funny. And if he had been just that, I probably would've fallen for him all the way."

"Meaning?"

I twiddle the hem of my t-shirt. "Even though I knew going into all this that he was a prince — who would one day become king — I had no idea what that actually meant in practice until I got here and saw what being at court was like. And what I saw scared me. It was so far removed from anything that I had ever known or experienced, and I just couldn't imagine myself living the kind of life where I was constantly on display, playing a perfectly defined role, all the while having to watch my back and second-guess everyone's words and motives. It... it would've driven me crazy."

Bertrand is pensive for a moment, as he examines the needlework around one of his blazer's buttonholes. "If you were having such deep-seated doubts, why didn't you air your concerns to me? Or Maxwell, at the very least? We were your sponsors, after all..."

I glance guiltily into my lap. "I kind of did tell Maxwell. But I asked him not to say anything to you."

Bertrand's eyes narrow. "Why not?"

"I didn't think you'd understand... or agree. And I knew how much you had riding on me being Christian's pick, financially and otherwise and—"

Bertrand scoffs. "You must have a very poor opinion of me if you truly believe that."

"Well... You're not exactly Mr Warm-and-Fuzzy..."

Bertrand looks like he's about to admonish me, but after a moment, he drops his gaze. "I... I know that I often come across as a formalist taskmaster who only cares about the reputation of his house, but I'll have you know that I am not completely heartless. I would never force you to do something that would make you miserable for the rest of your life."

My mouth drops onto the floor. "You... wouldn't?"

Maxwell hadn't been joking, then! As difficult as that is to believe...

"Of course not," he declares emphatically. "While you becoming Queen would have been... advantageous for us, like I said at the start of the season, the benefits would have manifested mostly in indirect forms. It would not have solved our financial problems overnight... or maybe even at all. And as much as I had hoped that you were the unexpected panacea to all our house's woes, the truth is that I should never have placed that kind of pressure on you... explicitly or implicitly."

"So... you're not pissed?"

Bertrand's nostrils flare. "That is a ridiculous question! Of course I am not inebriated! It is not even noon! Why would you even—?"

I heave a sigh. "I meant angry..."

"Oh. Of course." He clears his throat. "No. I am not – in your American vernacular — pissed. I would've preferred for you to have been more forthcoming with me earlier in the proceedings, but there is not much we can do about that now. I... I know with the unfortunate benefit of hindsight that doing something simply to appease someone else's expectations will only leave you feeling bitter and remorseful."

I quirk a brow. Is he talking about himself?

"Though I would appreciate," he continues, "that moving forward you consider confiding in myself and Maxwell in relation to any important matters that may be affecting you... personal or otherwise. As I said last night, you are — and always will be — a Beaumont, and we will support you until the bitter end. After all, our house motto is Profunda memento — the Depths Remember. It would be an insult to our reputation to let such a grievous slight against you go unavenged."

I feel tears well in my eyes. "Oh, Bertrand."

While I’ve been expecting many possible reactions from Bertrand — most of them in the explosive category — turns out that like the cranky Shrek, my sponsor has hidden layers as well.

"There, there," he mutters, patting my knee, as if I were a dog. "There is no need to become sentimental."

I can't help but scoff at his emotional awkwardness. Quickly composing myself, I say, "Thank you. It means a lot to know that you and Maxwell have my back." I grab his hand to give it a squeeze before he can pull away.

"Erm, yes," he stammers, a slight flush rising up his neck. "Of course we do. Now, if there is nothing else, I suggest we—"

"Actually... there is no more thing."

I may as well get this over with as well...

"Yes?"

"There... there is another reason why I turned Christian down."

"... yes?"

I bite my bottom lip nervously. I have no idea how this is going to go down... Bertrand had been surprisingly understanding about the other reason, but that doesn’t mean that he is going to take this revelation in his stride. But, he had asked me to be more upfront with him, and I need House Beaumont on my side if I am to get to the bottom of the plot against me... and that means no more secrets.

"I... I actually ended up falling in love with someone else."

I swear Bertrand's heart just stopped mid-beat. "Oh, dear God... It's Maxwell, isn't it?"

A very un-lady like snort escapes me. "Are you being serious right now?"

This is definitely not the reaction I was expecting...!

"It is not an unreasonable deduction to draw," he protests. "The two of you have spent every event of the social season together, not to mention all the time in-between when he had been coaching you. And... he is better looking Beaumont. It... it would be logical for you to have developed... feelings for him."

God, he sounds like Spock! I wouldn't be surprised if the two of them are somehow related and Maxwell had been adopted or something...

"You really suck at reading people, don't you?"

Bertrand tugs on his waistcoat self-consciously, refusing to meet my eye.

"I like Maxwell," I concede. "But more like a close cousin or a brother. And anyway. He has the hots for Hana."

"Lady Hana Lee?"

"There is only one that I know of..."

"But she's a suitor!"

"She was a suitor," I correct. "And only because her parents forced her to join the competition. She and Christian like each other — as friends — but neither of them have ever been interested in each other in that way."

I see Bertrand's shoulders relax a bit, relieved that Maxwell hasn’t accidentally-on-purpose seduced a royal suitor out from under Christian's nose. "So... if it's not Maxwell, then who...?"

"Drake."

"The Walker boy?!"

"He's 27..."

"But he... he's..."

"A commoner?" I supply dryly. "So am I..."

"...the King's childhood friend! The scandalous implications are—"

"Yes..." I sigh wearily. "We are well aware..."

Bertrand's rapidly twitching eye indicates that he's having a hard time processing this. "And he...?"

"Yes. He loves me too."

"And the King...?"

"He knows."

After a very long — and awkward — silence, where I am starting to wonder whether he's forgotten how to breathe, he croaks, "I... I see."

Pulling himself jaggedly to his feet, he exits the room without a backwards glance, leaving me staring after him with a confused frown... because I have no idea what to make of my sponsor's surprisingly muted reaction. Has it just not quite clicked for him yet (and I am in for an epic meltdown at an unspecified point in the not-too-distant future), or is he trying to keep himself in check because of the warning that Christian had given him about being nice to me?

I flop back onto the bed with a weary sigh.

Either way, the next few weeks are going to be fun...!

...not.

"Oh, my God! I don't fucking care!"

Bertrand fixes me with a steely glare. "You may not care, but the dignitaries you will be dining with during the upcoming engagement tour most certainly will! Now, pull yourself together and—"

But I'm already halfway towards the door.

Ignoring Bertrand's demands of "Get back here, this instant, young lady!", I wrench the (probably centuries old) brass handle down with definitely more force than necessary and stomp out of the room.

"Don't even think about it!" I warn with an upraised finger.

Allard quirks a brow as I tromp past him — why did it have to be him of all people who Bastien assigned to look after me?! — but thankfully, he heeds my warning and stays put.

Bursting out of the House, I rush down the marble entrance steps, my chest heaving.

If I have to listen to one more second of another one of Bertrand's incessant etiquette lectures, I’m going to scream!

I knew that he was just trying to prepare me for the tour by ensuring that I could coast through the various high-brow events like a born-and-bred lady, but this was becoming overkill.

From the moment I wake up, to the moment I go to bed, my day is filled with lessons. Lessons on how to dance, lessons on how to eat, lessons on how to talk, even lessons on how to sit and stand like a perfect little porcelain doll.

And I hate it.

I never like being made to feel like an idiot at the best of times, but Bertrand has been relentless when it comes to critiquing even the slightest slip or flaw. And if belittling were an Olympic sport, he'd be the undoubted world champion... and it’s been utterly demoralising.

Everything I do is wrong. I chew too loudly, I dance too wildly, I speak too directly, I use all the million-and-one different pieces of cutlery wrong, and apparently my tastebuds cannot tell the difference between a merlot and a malbec. And because Bertrand insists on pouncing on every little slip-up like a zealous bloodhound, pointing out my failings in exacting detail, the more frustrated I get for getting it wrong, and the worse I end up screwing everything up... which just ends up perpetuating the vicious cycle.

Maxwell has been trying his best to keep the peace between the two of us, but he’s been fighting a losing battle — especially since I’m convinced that all this critiquing is Bertrand's sick, twisted way of punishing me for falling for the wrong guy — and I am not sure how much more of this constant micromanagement I can take before I snap and stab the bastard in the eye with a bullion spoon.

And to make matters worse, my security detail had shown up earlier in the week, so now I can’t even have a moment to myself to scream in frustration because everywhere I go, I’m dogged by either Allard or Schweitzer.

The only sort of reprieve I’ve had from this Princess Diaries nightmare — apart from when I’m sleeping — is in the evenings before dinner when I spend an hour with Allard doing a mix of HIIT and self-defence training (because apparently I punch like a bambin, aka a sissy girl, and need to build up some strength and stamina if I’m to have any hope of holding my own in a fight). But Allard — being a former member of the French special forces — is arguably even more of a hardass than Bertrand. Because even though the latter liked listening to the sound of his own voice, at least he didn't make me do burpees until I cried.

I hear boots crunch on the gravel behind me, and I burst into a run.

I have to get as far away as possible. From Bertrand, from the House, from the Guard... all of it, before I go Jack Torrance on everyone's ass.

Because worst of all, even though Allard had brought my phones back, I have barely spoken two words to Drake since he left. Every time I’ve tried calling him, it went to voicemail, and when he's tried to call me back, I’ve been either asleep, or stuck with Bertrand. So, we’ve been forced to resort to sending each other texts that we could reply to when we managed to find a moment of free time, which hasn’t been as often as either of us would've liked and nowhere even close to being sufficient. I want... no need to hear his voice, to see his face, but so far, we have not been able to find a time that’s worked for both of us.

And the thought of having to put up with all of this for another three weeks is driving me crazy.

Rounding the corner, I barrel straight into someone coming from the opposite direction.

"Let me go, asshole!" I yell, trying to bat away the hands reaching out to steady me, hot tears of anger and frustration rolling down my face.

The last thing I need is my bodyguards seeing me break down like a brat...

"Harper. It’s me."

I feel the breath get sucked out of me as I snap my head up in disbelief.

Drake's looking down at me with a mixture of bemusement and concern. "Allard told me you were losing it... Are y—?”

I throw myself at him like an ecstatic koala, nearly sending both of us toppling to the ground.

"Christ, girl...!" he exclaims, stumbling slightly before managing to find his balance with the unexpected addition of my weight on him. "I get you're excited, but—"

"What are you doing here?" I gasp, still not quite believing that he really is here, even though I have myself wrapped around him, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.

"Surprising you," he smirks. "Happy Fourth of July."

I pull back to look at him, mouth agape. "It's the Fourth of July?"

He fixes me with a deadpan look. "Last time I checked..."

"Oh, my God..." I gripe, sliding myself off him. "I completely forgot... I need to call my family and—"

Fisting his hand into the hair at the nape of my neck, Drake silences me by locking his mouth onto mine. All thoughts evaporate instantly from my mind as I melt instantly into him.

"You can do it later," he declares. "It's barely even morning there."

"Oh, right..." I mumble, still dizzy from his kiss.

The stress of the past week, combined with Drake's unexpected appearance seems to have really addled my brain...

"And anyway," he adds, grabbing my hand to pull me back the way he just came from, "there's something I want to show you first."

"What?"

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you now, would it?"

"I'm not sure I can cope with any more surprises..."

"You'll like this one."

I roll my eyes at him for using the same line I had used on him on his birthday. But I have to admit, I am intrigued... Even if his magical reappearing act is going to be a hard one to beat.

He leads me around to the back of the House, where I am greeted by a sight that renders me totally speechless. For stood in front of me are Hektor and Lone Star, fully tacked and ready to go on what looks like a week's trek into the backcountry.

"What's all this?" I breathe, when I finally find my voice again.

"Your surprise."

"Obviously, but what's with all the gear?"

"You'll see," he replies with a sly smirk that would make even Lucifer's heart beat with jealousy.

"But I'm not dressed for riding," I point out, gesturing at my shorts and sandals.

"I figured that would be the case," he says, opening the door of the Land Rover that’s parked off to the side with the horse box. "So, I got you these."

He pulls a bag out and hands it to me. Peeking inside, I can see a pair of Wranglers, some hiking socks and Chelsea-style riding boots.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I look up at him. "I love you..."

Not only had he remembered my quip about preferring jeans to jodhpurs, but he also had the aforethought to buy me everything I needed on the off-chance that I wasn't dressed appropriately on the day. Which is a double bonus, given that I now won’t have to try and sneak back into the House without bumping into Bertrand to get appropriate clothes.

This guy... He really is one in a million.

"You're welcome," he acknowledges, dropping a kiss on my nose. "Now get changed, so we can get going."

"But where are w—?" I shake my head ruefully mid-ask. "Lemme guess... I'll see when we get there?"

Drake throws me a wink. "You're cottonin' on, girl."

My heart skips a beat. Why does he have to sound so damn hot when he puts on his southern drawl...?

I quickly step behind the trailer to get changed before I end up jumping him in full view of Bertrand's window.

Kicking my shoes off, I shimmy out of my shorts and grab the jeans out of the bag. Pulling them on, I find myself shaking my head in wonder as I realise that they fit like a glove. I am also unsurprised that it's the same story with the socks and boots.

Stepping back around, I find Drake waiting for me.

"Allard and Schweitzer aren't going to go apeshit at you absconding me, are they?"

"No," he scoffs, taking the shorts and sandals from me and depositing them in the Land Rover. "I gave them the heads-up already. But Bertrand might."

"Screw Bertrand," I declare emphatically as I follow him to where the horses are hitched to the side of the box, making him chuckle.

"Need a leg up?" he asks, untying Hektor and throwing the reins over his head.

"Please."

I step up to the Andalusian, who turns his head towards me quizzically.

"Hello, big boy," I grin, giving his glossy neck a pat as I gather the reins. "Remember me?"

He shakes his head with a snort, making me laugh. It sure is good to see the personable stallion again.

"Ready?" asks Drake beside me.

With a nod, I bend my left leg at the knee. Cupping my ankle and shin in his hands, he boosts me into the saddle.

"Thank you," I say with a smile.

"Anytime," he drawls, slotting my foot into the iron. "Stirrups still good?"

I test the feel contemplatively. "I think so."

"Let's head out then."

Untying Lone Star, he vaults into the saddle with practiced ease, directing the Quarter Horse towards the rolling hills of the vineyard.

Hektor immediately breaks into an eager trot, but I quickly rein him in. I have no idea how far we’re going, nor what is in the saddle bags, so while I definitely shared my mount's enthusiasm for today's outing, I’m going to be deferring to Drake when it comes to the pace.

"So, what's the plan, Tonto?"

"We'll take it slow until we reach the edge of the estate. Give these guys a chance to warm up a bit. Then we can pick up the pace until we reach the tree line."

"Okay. Can you give me some kind of clue as to where we're going?"

"It's got a helluva view," he throws back over his shoulder.

"Of course it does," I murmur with a smile.

Drake is all about the view.

Changing tack, I ask, "So, you've been there before?"

"Yeah, a few years ago. Though last time I hiked it."

"Do you go hiking a lot?"

"I try to get at least one decent trip in each year, with a few shorter ones peppered in here and there."

"What qualifies as decent?"

"Anything out in the middle of nowhere."

A laugh bubbles out of me. “I should've guessed that...! What's the best hike you've ever been on?"

"The Dientes Circuit on Navarino Island off the coast of Chile."

My mouth drops.

I had honestly been expected him to say somewhere in the Alps, or maybe the Appalachian Trail or something. I hadn't even realised there were islands off the coast of Chile, much less that you could go hiking there!

"Tell me about it."

The rest of the ride across the Beaumont estate goes quickly as Drake recounts his week-long trek around the southernmost trail in the world, which honestly sounded like the plot of some kind of epic fantasy quest, as opposed to a vacation.

"Basically," he summarises, as we reach the open field behind the vineyard, "everything was intense... The terrain, the weather, the scenery... It was all out of this world. It was much tougher than I had expected, but 100% worth it."

"It definitely sounds it," I agree. "I'd love to see it some day."

Drake slants me a sidelong look. "I just told you that I had to pitch a tent on a bare mountain-side in the middle of a freak summer blizzard. It ain't a leisurely sight-seeing trip..."

"Yeah. I know. But I'm not one for turning down a once-in-lifetime adventure just because the going may get tough..."

I mean... I’m still here in Cordonia despite everything that’s happened...!

"I don't doubt that," he concedes. "But you need to build up to a trip like that. Going in unprepared will get you injured... or worse."

"Is this what this is then? The first step in the build-up?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, based on the amount of gear you've saddled the poor horses with, I'm assuming we're going on at least an overnight pack trip."

"I wish," he sighs. "This is a daytrip at most. I need to be back at the Palace tonight to pack."

My heart sinks. "Where are you going?"

"Rome, Paris, then New York. I’m part of the advance team that needs to hit up the stops on the engagement tour to make sure everything is in place from a security standpoint before the blue bloods from court show up.”

"But the tour doesn't start for another three weeks..."

"Yeah, but roughing the security into shape for a royal visit is a logistical and jurisdictional nightmare. Bastien actually started the planning for all this over six months ago—"

My eyes widen. "Six months...?"

"—but now that we're less than a month out, someone needs to physically go to each of these places and make sure everything's ready to go for when the boots hit the ground."

"And that someone is you..." I sigh glumly.

"Yup." He reaches out to grab my hand. "And that's why I wanted to come and see you before I left... 'cause chances are I won't be back until the tour kicks off."

I loop my fingers through his forlornly with a sigh. We really can’t catch a break, can we...?

"Hey," he says, tightening his fingers around mine. "I know none of this is exactly ideal, and it's definitely not what I had in mind when I asked you to come back. But I meant it when I said last week that I hope we can find a way to make it work... because I want to make it work."

"Me too," I whisper, giving his hand a squeeze in return.

"Good," he replies with a smile, lifting our entwined hands up to brush a kiss against my thumb. "So, let's enjoy our first Independence Day together."

Blinking the tears away, I flash him a cheeky grin. "Last one to the treeline is a rotten egg!"

Hektor springs forward with hardly any encouragement as I loosen the reins and rise up in the saddle.

"Nice try, Gale!" calls Drake, hot on my heels. "But you're losing this one!"

"Don't be too sure of that, Walker!"

I have managed to give myself a slight head-start this time around, and I’m determined to make the most of it.

But my sense of accomplishment is short-lived... For in the next heartbeat, Drake draws alongside us. Throwing me a cocky grin, he leans forward, and Lone Star pulls ahead with a quick burst of speed, reaching the edge of the woods just ahead of Hektor.

"How did y—?" I ask in bewilderment as we pull our mounts up.

Drake flashes me a knowing look as he gives Lone Star a pat. "Never bet against a Quarter Horse in a short-distance sprint. They'll beat seasoned racehorses over a quarter mile, any day of the week."

"So, kinda like muscle cars versus supercars in a drag race?" I ask wryly, following Drake into the trees.

"Damn straight!"

We follow a meandering game trail for a bit before we start climbing a steep hill that leaves both me and Hektor panting by the time we reach the top.

"So, you hiked that, huh?" I huff, easing back into the saddle gratefully, my abs and thighs on fire after having had to lean forwards for so long to help Hektor with the ascent... especially after the gruelling workout Allard put me through last night.

"What's this, Gale? That little hill took it out of you?"

I snort. "Hektor would agree with me that that was hardly a little hill."

"Both of you need to build up some endurance, then."

"Not all of us spend as much time in the gym as you do, Walker."

"Who says it's all from the gym?" he drawls, giving me a suggestive once-over.

My eyes widen. "No way... Are you seriously saying—?"

"That sometimes I like to mix things up and go for a swim or a jog instead?" he finishes smoothly. "Yes. I am."

I gape at him for a moment before I remember to clamp my mouth shut. Fucking bastard...

"Not sure why that's such a surprise... I mean—"

"Just... shut up!" I cry exasperatedly, an embarrassed flush rising up my cheeks.

Drake chuckles. "You really walked into that one, Gale."

"Oh, screw you, Walker!" I exclaim, cheeks flaming. 

He set me up for that double-entendre trap deliberately...

He glances at me surreptitiously as he drops his voice. "Girl, I know you missed me, but can you at least wait 'til we—"

"Argh!"

I wish I had something to throw at him. But since I don’t, I settle for a well-aimed kick at his calf... only to wildly miss as he deftly side-steps Lone Star out of my reach at the last second.

"Nice try, Gale," he smirks. "But you're gonna have to try a lot harder than that. I saw that coming a mile off..."

"Why do I even bother...?" I grumble ruefully.

One would've thought that I'd learnt by now that Drake has the reflexes of a ninja, and as much as I may want to, I’m never going to get the jump on him.

"Guessing Allard hasn't taught you about telegraphing yet?"

My brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"That'll be a no..." he surmises. "Pretty much everyone has some kind of subconscious cue or trigger that signals what move they're planning to pull moments before they actually pull it. For instance, you narrow your eyes and glance at the place you're trying to target. Other people fist their hands, roll their shoulders, or clench their jaw."

"So, kind of like a tell?"

"Exactly like a tell," he nods. "And, similarly to poker, if you can learn to hide your tells, you'll gain an advantage over your opponent, as they'll have a harder time seeing where the next hit's gonna come from."

"And how do I do that?"

"Allard will go over it in detail, but basically, keep your eyes on your opponent's face, your expression neutral and move fast and with the flow."

"I'm guessing that's all easier said than done..." I mutter, thinking back to the crash course in shooting I received from Drake and how technical all that had been.

"Initially," he concedes. "But with some practice, you'll start getting the hang of it. But anyway. Here we are."

Glancing up, I see that we've arrived at the brow of a smaller hill, beyond which stretches a vista that honestly makes me think that we've stepped through a magic portal into some kind of fairytale land.

"Wow..." I breathe, pulling Hektor to a stop to take it all in.

"Told ya it's got a helluva view," smiles Drake knowingly, leaning on the saddle horn.

"It's stunning..."

Pulling my phone out of my pocket — and ignoring the dozen or so missed calls and texts from Maxwell — I snap a panorama, not quite believing the sheer variety of greens and yellows that colour the rolling hills as far as the eye can see.

"So, what now, cowboy?" I ask, stowing my phone away.

"Now, we set up camp," he declares, nudging Lone Star forward. "There's a shady spot next to a stream at the bottom."

Following him down the slope, I spot a small copse of trees clustered on the banks of a bubbling brook.

"Can I help with anything?" I ask, dismounting and leading Hektor over to the water to have a drink.

"You can gather some firewood," he suggests, extracting the saddlebags off his horse.

I feel a grin spread across my face. "Are we roasting marshmallows?"

"No camping trip's complete without s'mores," he replies with another wink. "There's a knife and a hatchet in one of your saddlebags, if you need it."

I quickly locate the tools and make my way into the trees in search of some kindling, while Drake proceed to untack the horses.

Entering the cluster of birch, ash and polar, I spot several fallen branches that look dry enough to work as firewood. I pull them together into a pile and proceed to break and cut them into more manageable pieces before gathering them up.

Stepping back out into the clearing, I see that while I've been gone, Drake has a dug and ringed a firepit on the stony bank of the stream and is now in the process of extracting box after box of Tupperware from the saddlebags while the horses crop grass a little ways off.

"I thought we were making s'mores," I say, depositing my haul next to him.

"Yeah, for dessert," he replies, selecting a few branches from the pile and arranging them into a teepee over the fire sticks he's already set up in the pit. "You didn't really think I'd cop out on the Fourth of July barbecue, did ya?"

I shake my head wryly as I watch him open up a portable metal grill and place it over the prepared wood. "So, what are we cooking, then? Seems like you packed quite the feast..."

"Good ol-fashioned American cheeseburgers," he declares, lighting the fire.

My stomach gurgles in anticipation. "Can't wait! Also, here's your knife and hatchet, back, in case you need it..."

"Keep the knife."

"But I don't need it anymore. I've already cut—"

"I got it for you."

"So I can cut the burgers up ?" I ask dryly.

"So you can gut any bastard that tries to come at you again."

I nearly drop the knife. "You're not serious..."

He fixes me with an uncompromising look. "I am dead serious. You keep that knife on you at all times. In your boot, on your belt, strapped to your thigh, I don't care, as long as it's hidden and easy to grab when you need it."

"But... I... I've never... I don't—"

"Allard will teach you how to use it."

I gape at him like a horrified goldfish.

He doesn’t seriously expect me to...stab someone...to kill someone... does he?

Because I have no idea if I even have it in me to do something like that... I know Drake does, but he’s a King's Guard, he's had training, he—

"Harper."

I blink and find Drake stood in front of me, mocha eyes boring into mine.

Taking my hand gently in his, he says, "Like you said back at the hotel, I'm not always gonna be able to be at your side. And while learning self-defence is great and all, you can't guarantee that you'll come out on top in a fight. So, it's good to have a Plan B... Even if you never end up needing it."

"Do... Do you have a Plan B?"

"And C," he nods, bending down to pull up the hems of his jeans to reveal the boot knife strapped to one ankle, and the small pistol to the other.

I snap my gaze back up to his. "How have I never seen these before?"

"You've never undressed me before."

"But back at the hotel—"

"I threw everything into the duffel while you took your sweet ass time opening the door. I... I didn't want to freak you out."

I bark out a strained laugh. So much for that plan!

While I’m under no illusions about what Drake does for a living, it’s still unnerving to know that he's been walking around fully armed this whole time...

"Look," he says softly, pulling me back into him. "I know this is all very left-field, but I'm not letting you go back to court — especially publicly as Chris' mistress — without making sure that all the bases are covered when it comes to your safety."

"O-okay..." I breathe shakily. While the thought of carrying a deadly weapon around raised the hairs on the back of my neck, I have to concede that Drake has a point... and it’s undoubtedly better to be safe than sorry.

"Thank you," he murmurs, drawing me in to drop a kiss on my forehead. "And if it makes you feel any better, Livy never leaves her house without at least a dozen knives on her."

"What?" I gasp incredulously. "Where does she stash them all?"

"You don't want to know..." he huffs.

"Is there anyone at court who's not packing...?"

"Not that I know of," he admits. "All the nobles undergo some kind of self-defence training, and pretty much everyone has a hidden knife and/or gun on them. Kidnapping and assassination attempts are a daily hazard when you're an aristo."

I feel myself pale. Oh, my God... What have I gotten myself into...?

"Hey," he murmurs, lifting my chin gently up with a finger. "I promised you that I'm gonna look out for you, and I meant it. Plus, you'll have Allard, Schweitzer and everyone else from the Guard there as well. I'm not saying anything's gonna happen, but if it does, I just want you to be prepared for it."

I nod shakily, not trusting myself to speak.

He searches my face for a moment before leaning in to brush his lips against mine. "I should get going on the burgers."

"Okay..." I squeak, head still reeling from everything that Drake just dropped on me.

"You can set up the camp blanket, if you want."

"S-sure."

Shoving the knife into my sock, I totter shakily over to the pile of gear. Locating the thick wool blanket, I carry it up the bank to the grassy part of the clearing and after shoving a few wayward stones and sticks away with my foot, spread it out. Flopping down onto it, I cast my gaze beseechingly up at the sky, wondering how my life has pivoted so completely that I now have to carry a knife on my person on the off-chance that I need to defend myself against some nameless, faceless foe.

So much for wholesome life-choices, Harper...

But as I glance over at Drake, and he catches my eye to flash me a sexy, reassuring smirk, I realise that despite everything, there is nowhere else on earth that I'd rather be than right here, right now, with him... Even if it means having to face a Kill Bill-style showdown tomorrow.

And that’s a reassuring feeling.

Closing my eyes, I let the peaceful sounds of nature and the warmth of the sun on my skin wash over me. Drawing a big breath into my lungs, I savour the different intermingling scents — the fatty smoke of the burgers, the sweetness of the pollen, the earthiness of the dirt next to my head — wishing I could stay out here for a few days... or forever.

But I know that I only have a few short hours left of this peaceful interlude, so I push the anxiety determinedly off to one side and resolve to enjoy this chance to relax with Drake, doing something we both enjoy.

I have no idea how long I lie there unmoving, but my reverie is suddenly interrupted by a ticklish sensation on my arm.

I groan inwardly. I must've set up camp right on top of a nest of ants...

But I was too relaxed to think about moving, so I simply give my arm a shake, hoping the pesky insects would get the message... but to no avail.

With a grimace, I try to brush the ants off, but my hand connects with something large and warm.

Blinking my eyes open, I see Drake hovering over me with a bemused expression on his face.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead..." he murmurs, fingertips trailing up my arm.

I peek up at him sheepishly. "I fell asleep, didn't I...?"

"Just a bit," he confirms with a lope-sided grin. "You obviously needed the recharge."

My eyes widen in a sudden moment of déjà vu. "I didn't elbow you in the face again, did I?"

Drake chuckles as he leans in to press his lips against mine. "I managed to dodge it this time."

His smoky scent envelopes me as I tangle my fingers into his hair, tugging him closer. "Sorry..."

A low sound rumbles in his throat as he deepens the kiss before pulling reluctantly away. "Definitely later..."

"How 'bout definitely now?" I counter with a suggestive smile, ferreting my other hand beneath his shirt to trail down his abs to his belt.

He lets out a low exhale. "Normally, hard, hard yes. But we should eat before the flies descend on us... and the burgers go cold."

"Fine..." I concede, pushing myself up to a sitting position. "Since you worked so hard on them. But after lunch you're mine, Walker."

He bursts out laughing. "You using my lines on me, Gale?"

"If the glove fits."

Despite — or rather, because of — the slightly macabre conversation earlier, I’m determined to keep whatever time I have left with Drake as lighthearted as possible, so I have something nice to fall back on while we’re apart.

"You're impossible..." he mutters, handing me an already opened bottle of Corona, complete with lime wedge.

"I learnt from the best," I shrug cheekily, giving him a salute with the bottle.

He reaches down for his beer with wry shake of his head. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"'Course you would," I grin. "Happy Fourth of July."

He clinks his own bottle against mine. "Happy Fourth of July, Harper."

"Thanks again for doing this," I tell him, lifting the bottle to my mouth. "I would've completely forgotten about it if you hadn't shown up..."

"Don't mention it," he replies. "I know it's not as extravagant as what you'd probably do back home, but this is how we used to celebrate when Dad was still around. He'd take us camping or just throw together a barbecue on the beach. He liked to keep things simple."

"It's perfect," I assure him, laying a hand on his.

Glancing up, my gaze meets his, my breath catches in my throat as I suddenly find myself falling into those mocha and cinnamon-laced depths.

God, I’m gonna miss him...

"You haven't tried the grub yet..."

A perfectly stacked burger appears in front of my face, oozing relish and melted cheese, complete with a little American flag on the end of a toothpick, and a pile of colourful coleslaw.

"Wow..." I blink, taking the aluminium plate from him. "This looks great!"

"It's the taste test that counts."

I take a deep inhale of the smoky fat and protein. "I don't you think you have anything to worry about on that front either, bud. Just the smell of this baby would make vegans rethink their life choices."

Drake snorts in amusement as he picks up his own burger. "Dad would be happy to hear that. It's his recipe."

"Wait..." I stammer, burger frozen en route to my mouth. "You made these? From scratch?"

He quirks an offended brow. "Who d'you take me for, girl? A philistine who'd settle for supermarket patties? You always make your own."

"I... I just didn't realise you could cook," I admit. "I mean... Food's all taken care of at the Palace..."

"Yeah, but Mom and Dad made sure both me and Savs knew how to fend for ourselves out in the real world."

"Smart parents," I concede. "So, what else can you cook?"

"This a test?"

"Just curious..."

"I can throw together a three-course dinner party, if I need to. And I've been told I can cook up a mean set of Texas ribs."

"Courtesy of you dad, I'm guessing?" I ask with a smile, restarting my burger to my mouth.

"Yup," he confirms, taking another glug of beer. "The old man had three passions in life — whiskey, motorbikes, and barbecue."

"The apple definitely didn't fall far from the tree them," I observe, biting into my stack. The flavours explode over my tongue, making me groan. "Ohmygod... This is amazing!"

Drake scoffs around his own mouthful. "I accept tokens of appreciation in cash, credit or cheque."

"Gawsh, darn it!" I exclaim with wide eyes in an over-exaggerated southern drawl, "I've done gone left mah purse back at da House!"

He nearly chokes on his burger as he tries to cover up a snort of mirth.

"What?" I accuse. "My Texas twang not up to scratch?"

"It definitely was... scratchy..." he coughs out dryly, smacking himself in the chest to dislodge the mouthful that ended up going down the wrong way.

"Some people are just impossible to please..." I huff with a roll of my eyes as I take another big bite.

"Hey. If you want to please me, there are other ways of doing it that don't involve pulling a poor cat's tail..."

"It wasn't that bad..." I protest as I pinch some coleslaw up with my fingers.

"It really was..." he scoffs cringely. Shooting a glance at me, he adds, "I've got forks y'know..."

"Thanks," I reply, tilting my head back to drop the 'slaw into my mouth. "But I'm good with the utensils nature gave me." I wiggle my sticky fingers at him.

Drake shakes his head, but I can see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You really are something, girl..."

"Why?" I ask, chomping down on the last of my burger. "Because I'm not afraid to get some grease on my hands? You saw me get messy at the beach party barbecue..."

He fixes me with that impenetrable look of his. "Why d'you think I wanted to get in the cold water afterwards...?"

My mouth — half-chewed burger and all — drops into an O of surprise. "Watching me eat... turned you on?"

"It was hot as hell."

I swallow my food down self-consciously. "Erm... Why?"

"Because you’re the only girl I've ever met who is more concerned about enjoying the food than looking good eating it. Plus," he adds in a low voice, grabbing my wrist, "all I could think about was licking all that wayward barbecue sauce off you." He lifts my hand up to suck two of my fingers into his mouth.

A low moan escapes me. "Do... do all your fantasies involve licking sticky stuff off me?"

"No," he murmurs, pressing his teeth into the pads of my fingers while flicking his tongue over my fingertips. "Sometimes I fantasise about fucking you in the middle of a field."

I slant him a breathless look. "Then what are you waitin' for, cowboy?"

"Don't hold it so close to the fire," cautions Drake sometime later. "You'll burn it."

"I've made s'mores before, Walker," I inform him, swinging the stick out of his reach... and sending the marshmallow sailing through the air to land with a splash in the creek.

"Evidently not..." he mutters, reaching over to extract a replacement from the bag.

"Says the guy who just made charcoal?" I ask sweetly, leaning back into him.

Drake cusses under his breath as he yanks his own stick out of the fire. "You're going to be the death of me, girl..." he grumbles, tossing the blackened marshmallow into the flames.

"How is that my fault?" I counter incredulously. "You were the one too busy interfering with my flawless technique to notice that yours was done..."

He hands me a replacement marshmallow with a scoff. "It wasn’t flawless. You'd've burnt the underside before it was cooked through."

I turn to look at him with a raised a brow as I slot the marshmallow into place. "What are you...? Some kind of marshmallow roasting expert?"

"Bet your fine ass, I am, girl,” he confirms nonchalantly, loading up his own stick as well. "I've made thousands of these suckers. So, don't give me that BS about flawless technique. It was a disaster waiting to happen."

"You didn't complain about my technique before..." I remind him saucily, drawing my hand up his leg.

"Neither did you," he counters, leaning in to nip my earlobe as he extends his stick back over the fire. "And who screamed louder...?"

I smack him on his bare knee. "That has nothing to do with roasting marshmallows!"

"Oh, but it does," he drawls, trailing his free hand up the inside of my thigh. "The two techniques are more similar than you'd think..."

"In what world—?"

But my protest stops abruptly as his fingers reach the hem of my shirt to feather up my stomach.

"In both cases," he breathes, running his tongue up my neck as his hand coasts higher, "you need to pay careful attention to the angle... the timing... when to turn up the heat... when to pull back a bit..."

My scoff turns into a breathless moan as his fingers reach my nipple.

He slides his other hand between my legs. "There's a certain... precision to both that only comes with years of hard-earned mastery."

"So, what...?" I gasp as the fingers of his lower hand mimic the actions of the one at my breast. "They're both... important life-skills?"

"Sure are," he breathes against my neck, sliding his fingers inside me.

"Then..." God, it’s impossible to think when he does that! "...then why's yours... burning again?"

"...motherfucker!" He kicks the stick out of the fire in frustration. Dropping his head onto my shoulder, he groans, "You're too damn distracting, girl..."

"I thought you could multitask, Walker."

"Apparently not when you're sitting in my lap wearing nothing but my shirt."

"Should I move to the other side of the fire pit, then?"

"Don't you dare," he warns, tightening his hold on me as his fingers resume their work with renewed determination. "We're finishing this."

I arch back against him with a whimper as he picks up the pace. "Drake...!"

Even though we spent the last hour and a half making up for the week that we've been apart, it’s evident that it hasn’t been enough for either of us.

"Turn around," he commands, pulling his hands abruptly away.

"Wha—?" I ask dazedly.

"I want to watch you fall apart."

I spin myself haphazardly around, the connection between my brain and my body a twisted mess in the wake of his ministrations. Grabbing me by the waist, he pulls me back onto him, his mouth claiming mine in a rough kiss.

"Now tell me how you want it," he growls, pulling at my bottom lip with his teeth.

I grind purposefully against him. "I want you."

I hear the breath catch in his throat as he reaches down between us to free himself from his boxers. "That's what you said the last two times..."

"You complainin'?" I gasp, wrapping my legs around him in anticipation.

"Never," he declares, finding my entrance and sliding himself in.

I throw my head back with a moan as we begin to move against each other again — much more slowly this time. Because in contrast to earlier, when the pace had been rough and frenzied, both of us instinctively want to draw this out for as long as possible, as we both know that it’s probably going to be the last time that we'll be doing this for a while.

So, we take our time to memorise the look, feel and taste of each other. Drake strips his shirt off me inch by inch, feathering kisses along each new bit of exposed skin while I run my hands all over his broad shoulders, his smooth back and the panes of his chest and abs, before coming back up to tangle into his silky hair.

But even though I try to to hold out, slowing my movements down even more, the intensity that has been building in miniscule increments suddenly overflows without warning, and I cry out as the wave of pleasure envelopes me. I feel Drake tighten his hold on me as he stiffens with a low groan, before falling backwards onto the camp blanket, taking me with him.

"Christ, Harper..." he rasps. "Why does every time with you feel like the first time and the last time...?"

I feel the tears that I've been trying to hold at bay the whole day escape to run down my face. "Because we're never together for long enough..."

He heaves a resentful sigh as he pulls me closer. "Not sure any length of time would be ever feel long enough..."

The flow of tears become a torrent. Oh, my God, why did he have to say something so incredibly perfect just as he’s about to leave again...?

"Hey... Are you... crying?"

"No...?" My sniffled denial sounds unconvincing even to my ears.

"Harper. Look at me."

I bury my face into his neck.

I've bawled my eyes out in front of Drake more times than I wish to remember, and the last thing I want is for him to see me do it again... Especially now, on our last day together, after we just had the most beautiful, heartfelt sex known to man.

"Harper. Please."

I raise my head reluctantly, knowing I look like a hot mess.

He lifts his hand to brush my hair out of my face. "Look. I get it. 100%. This entire situation sucks, on about a dozen different levels. And if it were up to me, we'd be on a beach together in Bora Bora or something right now, instead of gearing up to say good-bye for the third fucking time in the space of a week."

Despite my best efforts, I feel fresh tears well in my eyes to drop onto his chest.

"But..." he continues pointedly, wiping the wetness from my face with his thumb, "I should have more time in the evenings while I'm gone. So, if you need to vent at the end of a shit day, or if you just want to say goodnight before going to bed, then call me, and we'll make it happen."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

I can't help but giggle at his Shrek impersonation. "That would be nice..."

And it would definitely help make the time apart feel more bearable...!

"Also, if you're okay with it, I was planning on leaving the horses with you. They could both do with some more regular exercise."

"Aren't there grooms at the Palace who could ride them?"

"Yeah, but Hektor's taken a shine to you and you're the only other person here who can tack up Lone Star and not end up in the dirt two minutes into a ride. Plus, it'll give you a chance to blow off some steam after a long day of princess lessons. All I ask is you take someone with you when you go out."

"Okay," I concede, wiping my face. "But do the Beaumonts even have a stable or a field where we can keep the horses? And what about food and everything else?"

"Before they went broke, the Beaumonts were serious eventers. They had quite the impressive warmblood collection, not to mention a state-of-the-art stable block to house them in. The horses all got sold, but the stable's still there — Max can give you a tour. And in terms of food and bedding, I'll just ask the Head Groom at the Royal Stables to organise a shipment before I leave."

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble?"

"I wouldn't be offering if it was."

Cradling his face in my hands, I bend down to lock my lips onto his. "Thank you..."

"Don't mention it," he murmurs, mocha eyes searching mine. "Now, let's make some s'mores before the fire goes out."

The story continues in Chapter 8 - Into the Lion’s Den

*Whoo! Another super long chapter! Thank you for sticking with it! I think it was worth it! 😇 And yes... I am deliberately turning this into a sexy spy / thriller story. I mean... all the elements are there, so why not? 😎

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[tooinlovewithfictionalpeople]

The Five times She met the Hargreeves- Five Hargreeves

Plot: Fives wife has been looking for him for ages, and she is not so happy about it, although she meets his fellow siblings along the way (Fluff and cuteness mainly)

Cammie was dangerous. In-fact she was well known for being the most ruthless assassin the commission has. Her abilities made her quick, her training made her agile, he mind made her strong. She never played by the rules. But if you saw under the fact she could kill you within the blink of an eye, she was a sweetheart. Her heart was made of gold, she was soft and kind the kind of girl thought to be made of honey and glass. 

However, not playing by the rules, lead the Handler to become fed up with the bright bubbly girl so she threw her to the end of the world with nothing to ‘harden’ her up. Unfortunately for the Handler that is how Camille Winters met Five Hargreeves and the two became inseparable - unstoppable - the perfect duo.

There were moments where Cammie was willing to murder Five Hargreeves, and that was the day he got the equations wrong.

                                                           ***

It was a cold Thursday night when Allison Hargreeves was talking with her friends about the revolution in the hair salon. It was like any other day.

Until  - with a loud crash, the door was thrust open. Everyone jumped to their feet, standing in a defensive position.

In the door frame stood a girl, who looked to be in her teens. Her face was unreadable as she spoke in a clear commanding voice.

“I’m Cammie. Man over the road called the cops on ya love. I’d disperse the mothers meeting”

Allison never got to thank her, she was gone as quick as she came.

                                                        ***

Klaus as never one for constant socialising, which is why he was sat in an empty coffee shop with Ben sat opposite him. He didn’t notice the girl in a waitress uniform stand next to him until she spoke.

“Im Cammie, you want anything else Mister?”

Klaus looked up, to see a teen girl staring back at him with an unreadable expression.

“Are you not a little young to be of the working class my dear?” he asked absentmindedly. Ben rolled his eyes.

The girl smiled. “Im way older then you would believe darling,” she turned to where Ben was sat, seemingly invisible to anyone but Klaus. “And what about you hot stuff?” she smirked.

Klaus lifted his head from his arms “You can see him?” he asked

“No one ever comes in here darling, I think I’d notice not one but two cuties when they walk in,”

Ben sent an awkward smile “No thank you.” he said.

Cammie sent a sweet smile before walking off. She was gone before they could say anything else. 

                                                         ***

Cammie was furious. And that was an understatement. Five had gone through the portal, taking her with him to get back to his family but somehow she was thrown away and separated from him thrown back into the 60′s where she tried desperately to find him. Then, when she awoke to the grimy alleyway she had been chucked into she realised that she was stuck in her teenage body.

She told Five. She told him the equations were wrong but did he listen? Nope.

And now she was stuck god knows where.

Now, Cammie like Five had extraordinary powers. Although there lines of what she could do were blurred she could see flashes of events that happened in the past, present and future. In other words, time was her bitch. But when she saw the flash of Five being threatened by the Handler her blood boiled.

The only issue with Five is that the little shit couldn't seem to stay in the right timeline so Cammie didn’t know when he would be experiencing what she thought he was going through.

Needless to say all thoughts of common sense went out the window when she saw the Handler pointing a gun at her teenage husband. So naturally she teleported to the commission.

When she arrived the Handler was sitting at her office with an unpleasant smirk on her face. In-front of her were two people whom Cammie did not recognise. The first was a man, with long Jesus style hair and tan skin. He had tan skin and wore a shocked expression. The other was a woman with shoulder length dark hair and wide brown eyes. The Handler did not seem even slightly surprised and Cammie’s sudden appearance.

“Cammie dear, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked smiling.

“Why the HELL is my husband?” She growled, eyes narrowing into slits. The Handler rolled her eyes.

“Ah yes. Don’t worry he’s a free man, still trying to stop what cannot be stopped..I must say you do look better at this age than you did two weeks ago”

Cammie rolled her eyes, looking at the two people next to her, who were staring in shock.

“I told him.” Cammie said angrily. “I told him the equations were wrong. But my husband thought he was right.”

Cammie picked up a Vase and threw it against the bookshelf so it shattered into a million pieces. “BECAUSE FIVE HARGREEVES NEVER FUCKING LISTENS”  

The Handler didn’t even blink, but the man in the chair with the Jesus hair spoke up “Hold on a minuet, Five Hargreeves is your husband? The bastard managed to get married??”

Cammie laughed. “And how would you know him?”

The man paused for a moment, “Im his brother, Deigo”

Cammie rolled her eyes, “Tell me, was he always a little shit?”

“Yes,”

The Handler stood up, picking up a gun and pointing it at Cammie who didn’t seem even slightly fazed at the fact her life was being threatened. By now it was a common occurrence. “What do you want Cammie?” she said

“Where. Is. My. Husband.” she seethed

Diego spoke up “Last I heard he was with a Man called Elliot, down an alleyway”

Cammie turned to face him “How come your’e more helpful in a second than Five has been his entire life?”

“Tell me, do you flirt with all the Haregreeve siblings?” The Handler sneered.

Cammie laughed “She’s just salty Five chose me and not her.”

The Handler raised her weapon firing multiple times but it was too late. In a flash of blue light Cammie was gone.

“Five got Married?”

                                                          ***

Five and Luther were having a nice little conversation about the poor dead Elliot in the chair when they saw a flash of blue light which seemed to be emitting a lot of crashing sounds and swearing coming from the balcony below them.

“Shit. Its the commission get down.” Five whispered to Luther who decided to do as he was told.

“How have they found us?”

Five sighed running his hands through his hair in frustration as he peeked behind the sofa. “I don’t know, but they are dangerous so be careful.”

“FIVE HARGREEVES I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU ARE HERE I AM GOING TO WRING YOUR NECK AND STAB YOUR EYES OUT WITH SPOONS”

“How many enemies do you have??” asked Luther eyes wide in shock.

However Five was staring at where the sound was coming from with a slight smile on his face. Luther was more shocked that Five was producing a genuine smile than anything else. 

“She’s not an enemy” he said standing up and walking to the stairs.

“FIVE GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I AM GOING TO KILL YOU”

Luther looked at him incredulously “Well she sure sounds like it.”

When Five got to the stairs, he was relieved to see Cammie, standing hands on hips glaring at him with the angriest stare she could muster. He merely smiled back, finding it slightly amusing how angry she was. (And slightly scary but he would never admit that)

As soon as it clicked that Five was in fact okay, Cammie marched up the staircase yelling how much she was going to absolutely slaughter him, her speed not slowing down as she drew nearer

“Er - Five? Are you sure she is not the enemy because she looks -”

Luther watched as Cammie came nearer to his brother unsure of what to do until she ...kissed Five?

The girl had ran to Five and placed her hands firmly on the sides of his face pulling him down to kiss her. His arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. Her hands travelled to his hair, running her hands through it. 

Luther just stood there mouth open, trying to comprehend what was happening in front of him.

The kiss broke, leaving Cammie still on her toes, face buried in the crook of Fives neck as he had one arm still wrapped around her waist and the other stroking her hair.

“W h a t?” Luther finally managed to get out

The pair separated looking up at the bigger man, who was staring between the two blankly. first of all he was shocked that Cammie hadn’t tried to kill them, but also the fact that his annoying, self centred arsehole of a brother actually found love - and not to mention the fact he had never seen Five as happy as he looked right now.

“Cammie, this is my brother Luther, Luther this is my wife Cammie.”

“Im sorry you are married?”

Five rolled his eyes so Luther turned to Cammie.

“You actually like him?”

At this Cammie laughed, brushing hair out of Five’s face “Surprisingly I do - even if he never listens to me.”

Five turned to her “I do listen to you!” 

“Erm no you don’t. I told you the calculations were off but you didn’t listen to me”

Five open and closed his mouth but no words came out, so he turned to Luther.

“We carry on with the plan, but this time we have her. She is so much better.”

“I still can’t get over the fact that you are married,”

                                                      ***

Cammie was laid in bed. Her head was on Fives chest, her arms wrapped around him, her leg hooked up on his waist. He was snuggled into her, burying his face in her hair as she slept, his arms tightly wrapped around her

The Hargreeve siblings were stood around around them, each with their mouth open slightly in shock.

“Can anyone else not get over the fact Five is Married?” Luther asked

“To a reasonable person no doubt,” Allison continued.

“And a baddass. The commission adore and are terrified by her.” Diego added

“Ben and I would like to point out she clearly makes Five happy. That’s a yay right?”

“Vanya nodded her head. “He looks at peace for once.”

And he did. For the first time in years the siblings saw their grumpy, annoying, pessimistic brother smile, a real genuine smile.

“If you guys don’t stop staring he will kill you,”

[dannimatic2]

The Tapes Are Web And I’m Right: A long, rambling, semi-comprehensive list of reasons why the web controls the tapes and also jon, written as of MAG 194:

1. It's practically all but confirmed that they aren't linked to the Beholding (they appear in the Eye's blindspots like the tunnels and Upton House) and I genuinely just can’t imagine how they'd pull off the "the tapes were actually us, the audience, all along" theory in canon aside from subtext and meta implications, so that crosses the two off as mostly implausible in my mind.

2. How could Annabelle have known exactly when Martin and Jon split up so that she could snatch Martin up the next moment and take him to Hilltop Road, unless she heard the tape of their argument? How could she have known so much about them to be able to use their doubts & insecurities to manipulate them? (Are you truly in control of the choices you make? Does he even need you at all?) She's not semi-omniscient like Jonah, so where does she get all her information from? How does she know so much? 

3. There are countless hints linking the tapes back to the Web, including but not limited to:

-MAG 134: It was revealed that Martin piled the tapes on top of the coffin while Jon was still in the Buried to help him find his way out, but he didn’t know where the idea came from, and it’s very likely that the web placed the idea in his mind. 

-MAG 147: Annabelle was in possession of the Anglerfish tape, the very first statement Jon ever recorded, and placed it atop her own statement at hilltop road. I can’t think of a single reason for it to be there besides as a hint to the audience of the Web’s subtle involvement with the plot since the very beginning, and the convenient placement of the tape on top of Annabelle’s statement is just screaming that the two are somehow linked.

-MAG 157: Annabelle was the most plausible option as to who left the tape on Jon's desk that led him to try to find the panopticon & save Martin, consequently getting the Lonely mark and ending the world.

-MAG 163: At the end of the episode, a tape manifests in Martin’s bag. He asks it what it's doing there, and at that very same instant, the phone rings. It’s later revealed that it was Annabelle on the other line.

From these examples alone, I’m almost entirely convinced that the Web is behind the tapes. One thing that still doesn’t make sense, though, is the 6 month gap of time while Jon was in a coma. Why would the Web choose not to manifest any tapes during the Flesh invasion, or during Martin’s turn to the Lonely? Maybe it simply wasn’t important to the completion of the world-ending ritual: Jon was comatose, so logically the ritual couldn’t be furthered until he woke up, and the Web had no reason to spy on Melanie as she furiously stabbed a many-limbed eldritch monstrosity triple her size (although I, personally, would’ve paid to hear that go down).

But another explanation may be that Jon himself, being The Archive, is a vessel for Annabelle Cane’s master plan. If we take into account the hints littered throughout the series that the apocalypse was mainly orchestrated and carried out not by Jonah but by Annabelle—the worms being let into the archive when Jon tried to kill a spider, Oliver Banks being compelled by Annabelle to give his statement to Jon (“you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what she asks”), the Web compelling Martin to lure Jon out of the Buried by piling tapes on top of the coffin, etc—His entire purpose as Archivist could possibly be better attributed to the Web, not the Eye. We already know that the entities are so fundamentally connected to each other that not one single fear can be brought into the world without bringing along the rest, and many, if not all of them, overlap to some degree. And the Web’s whole thing is manipulation! If the Desolation ritual involves a messiah born in flame, and the Flesh ritual is literally just a bunch of people throwing meat into a gigantic hole, then it would make a lot of thematic sense for the Web, instead of orchestrating a ritual of its own (which we all know wouldn’t work in the first place), to succeed through the manipulation of another entity’s ritual, silently pulling the strings so that another entity, such as the Eye, is unwittingly helping the Web fulfill its plans the entire time. This theory works in the case of past archivists as well: Gertrude used the Web to bind herself to Agnes Montague in an attempt to thwart the Desolation’s ritual, not to mention that she was established to be extremely cunning and manipulative by nature, characteristics more in line with avatars of the Web than the Eye. And it was the Web that brought Jon to the institute, that led him to get marked by all fourteen fears and, ultimately, to end the world. 

This could tie the “the tapes are a manifestation of Jon's powers" and "the tapes are the Web” theories into one, explaining why the tapes didn’t manifest during the six months that Jon was comatose, while also falling in line with the evidence that the Web is in control of, or at the very least has unlimited access to the tapes. This would also explain why the tapes only started manifesting around season 2: it was the first point in the series where Jon began fully taking on his role as Archivist and became able to compel people to give him information, the first instance of such being in MAG 61. Not to mention that this ability itself could easily be an extension of both the Web and the Eye: the Eye part being that it's a way to get information from people, and the Web part being the manipulation of one’s free will to do so. Note how Jon compels Floyd Matharu in MAG 141:

ARCHIVIST

[Soothingly] You can go.

FLOYD

Erm… I, I don’t…

ARCHIVIST

Thank you Floyd. You’ve been… very helpful.

FLOYD

C—

ARCHIVIST

It’s alright, Floyd. You just… need a break.

FLOYD

Yeah… Sure.

[RINGING FOOTSTEPS DEPART]

He doesn’t ask Floyd a question. He’s not trying to get any more information out of him. He’s doing what I can only describe as mind controlling him. He plants an idea in his mind that makes him walk off in a daze. It’s unlike anything he had used his powers for before. It reminds me of MAG 59, where Ronald Sinclair made his way down to the basement of Hilltop Road, and every subsequent movement—removing the box from the table, taking out the apple, lifting it up to bite into it—was made not only against his will, but performed with the calmest expression on his face while in his mind he desperately fought against it. It reminds me of MAG 81, where the book lures Jon out of his house, walks him all the way down to Mr. Spider’s doorstep, and balls his hand into a fist to knock on the door.

His being the Archivist could also be why the Web gave Jon the lighter in the first place: maybe he’s the only one who can use it to fulfill their grand plan, whatever that may end up being in the end. Maybe he was meant to from the start.

And for my final and most damning piece of evidence, feast your eyes on THIS:

Thank you for your time.

[malfoymanortings]

lavender and velvet //part nine

SUMMARY: she had her fathers eyes, his aristocratic looks, her grandmothers spite, her mothers heart, but the one thing she didn't have was the love of her father that her god brother received. juliet black finally meets her father who has already decided who his child is.

PAIRINGS: George Weasley X OC!SiriusDaughter

taglist: @person1839 @big-galaxy-chaos @spooderham @iamashlynmarie @acciosiriusblack @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @ivettt @msmarklee1213 @briargardens @adoregin @emptyporsche @id-rather-be-an-outsider

as always, let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. 

thank you to everyone who has given feedback on this story so far! I’m so happy many of you are liking it so far. also, wanted to give a shout-out to @id-rather-be-an-outsider because their comment on the last update gave me an additional plot point. 💕

part one contains links to the previous chapters.

It was half past one in the morning on Christmas Eve when Juliet woke up to someone prodding her face. She blinked her eyes clearly, finally registering that Ginny was the one who had woken her.

“Ginny,” she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Time to wake up,” Ginny grinned, her lips quirked up in a devious grin. “Or have you forgotten our tradition?”

Juliet blanched for a moment, before realization hit her. “Damn. I had forgotten. Is everyone else already there?”

Ginny nodded, motioning for her to get up. “Yes, now come on!”

Juliet lugged herself off the bed, bringing her favorite blanket with. 

Every Christmas Eve, early in the morning after everyone else had already gone to bed, the twins, Ginny, Ron, and Juliet held a sesh. The one time the Weasleys had been at Hogwarts over Christmas, Neville and Lee Jordan had joined them. It was always a tradition. 

“Well well, we almost thought the ladies weren’t going to show,” Fred greeted as they walked in. “Would have had more for us.”

Fred was sitting against his bed, a bong between his legs, George next to him, while Ron sat on the other side with his back against the wall. Ginny sat next to Ron, and Juliet sat next to George. Her bare leg brushed against his, and she couldn’t stop the chill that went through her as she did so.

“Almost thought the two of you weren’t going to show,” George grinned happily at the girls, his eyes slightly glazed. They must have already started smoking. “We had to start without you.”

“Please, you probably started sometime after Molly had gone to bed,” Juliet shook her head, spreading her blanket over her bare legs. “As usual.”

Fred blew her a kiss, winking in reply. He passed the bong to Ron, who took a rather deep hit, before coughing it out nearly immediately. 

“So far Ronnie’s the little bitch tonight!” crowed Fred, clapping his hands together as he laughed. 

“Have you cast a silencing spell yet?” Juliet nudged George, nodding towards Fred who may as well have been a warning siren at the level of his noise.

George shook his head no. “That probably would be a good idea, though.” He waved his wand, and the room glowed a bright blue for a moment. 

Half an hour later, Fred had taken to laying on the floor, furiously scribbling on a parchment a list of ideas for the joke shop. Ron was lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, which the twins had bewitched to display a twinkling night sky. Ginny lay next to him, pointing out different ones she saw. Juliet had rested against George’s bed frame, his hand in her lap as she played with his fingers.

George turned to Juliet, that same look on his face from Kings Cross. He blinked slowly, licking his lips. “Jules, can I shotgun you?”

Juliet felt her heart skip a beat, and promptly lodge itself in her throat. The logical part of her brain was screaming at her to say no, that it wouldn’t be good for her to do so with her newfound feelings for her closest friend, but that part of her brain was muddled and hazed from smoking. So she nodded.

“It’ll be easier if you sit on my lap.” George stumbled a bit over the last part, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

“Okay.” Juliet breathed, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Inside, she was screaming.

Juliet hesitated before kneeling in front of George, hesitantly sitting on his thighs. She wore nothing but her oversized tee shirt that hung to her mid thighs, leaving her bare skin to sit on his flannel pajama pants.

No one seemed to notice what they were doing, but she was hyper aware of George’s body under hers. She would never have done this sober.

George inhaled deeply as he took a hit from the bong before setting it back down, and then turned his face towards hers. He reached out his hands to cup her cheeks, his fingers tangling into her long hair. Leaning forwards, he pressed his lips to hers, their mouths parted, and he exhaled the smoke into her mouth. 

Their lips lingered together for a moment longer than necessary, before Juliet pulled away to exhale herself. She coughed slightly, pressing a hand to her chest. George’s arms suddenly found their way to her waist, bringing her closer to him. She was now flush against his chest, pressed against where she could feel something hard against herself. Her eyes widened as she realized this, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Partly from her hazy mind, and partly because she wondered what George was doing.

His lips crashed onto hers once more, moving with an urgency she hadn’t felt before. His hands ghosted from her hips to her hair, tangling his long fingers in the strands as he pressed her firmly against him.

She found herself wrapping her arms around his back, everything slightly tilted and out of sorts as she did. She didn’t fully register what was going on, all she could focus on was that she was finally kissing George, the boy she wildly fancied. 

As their lips moved against each other, his hands moved down her bare thighs, groping at her soft skin. His tongue felt foreign on her own, fuzzy and out of place through the hazy fog of her mind. She hadn’t ever kissed someone like this before. 

Once again, George’s hands found their way to her hips, holding her tightly against himself. Without thinking, she ground her hips against his, a soft moan releasing from her lips involuntarily. He groaned into her mouth, bucking his hips harshly up into hers.

That seemed to sober the two of them up, as they realized what they were doing.

They quickly pulled away from each other, Juliet hastily sitting back on the floor next to him, staring at the carpet as her cheeks flamed. Fred was laughing, loudly, and she didn’t dare look to see what Ron or Ginny’s reaction might be. She felt utterly foolish, and dirty. Had she really just made out with her best friend in front of his family for Merlin’s sake?

“I was wondering when that would happen,” Fred chortled, looking back down at his parchment. “Absolutely splendid.”

“What happened?” asked Ginny, looking over at the two of them from where she lay on the floor.

“Nothing,” Juliet quickly cut Fred off, standing up on shaky legs. “I just, erm, feel rather tired. I’m going to head to bed.”

With that, she quickly (or as fast as her muddled mind would allow her to) left the room, shutting the door tightly behind her, and headed to her room. What she hadn't expected was to run into Sirius, who was just leaving Buckbeak's room.

“Jules?” Sirius cocked his head, walking towards her. “What are you..” he trailed off, suddenly sniffing the air around her. “No shit? You’re high?”

“Uh, no,” Juliet wracked her brain for an excuse, feeling as though she were sorting through foam. “I am perfectly level.”

Sirius gave her a doubtful look, crossing his arms. “Perfectly level?”

“As a side bar.” she nodded, keeping her eyes wide and honest. 

Sirius blinked once, then twice. “Good Godrick, is that the best you can come up with? You’re my daughter for Merlin's sake. We’re going to have to come up with something better than that for next time.”

Juliet tilted her head, her brow furrowed in confusion. His words spun round and round her mind, but she couldn’t quite understand what he meant. He seemed to notice this, and an exasperated grin appeared on his face, shaking his head.

“I suppose I’m reaping what I sow,” he muttered quietly, almost to himself. “All those years Rems and I did this to James, of course my daughter does the same.”

“I am completely following you.” Juliet nodded solemnly, attempting to at least appear as though she were coherent and understood. 

“Right, right, of course.” 

He motioned for her to follow him, and she followed him downstairs, pausing at a door that seemed oddly illuminated by a candle burning resolutely in the hall. It had a faint and peeling silver R on the front of the worn wood. She didn’t think she had ever seen the inside of the room before.

“What’s in there?” she questioned, sticking her thumb out towards the door. “Is the R for room of requirement? Have you got one of those here? I think that’s really swell and helpful for the order, dad.”

Sirius looked taken aback, not only by her question and her mumbling, but at the fact that she had openly called him dad for the first time.

“Well, no, good guess though,” he paused, his hand limply lying on the railing of the stairs. “That’s my younger brother’s room. Regulus.”

Her eyes widened once more. “Oh wow, he’s been in there this whole time? He’s wicked quiet!”

Sirius took a deep breath, as though to ground himself. “Actually, he’s dead. He was killed by Voldemort.”

Juliet faltered. “Oh wow. Sorry.”

Sirius shrugged, continuing down the stairs. Juliet followed, taking great care to hold the railing tightly. She followed him into the kitchen, where he motioned for her to sit down. 

She sat, watching as he went into the pantry. The door creaked loudly as he opened it, remerging with two bottles of butterbeer and an assortment of snacks. He dropped the bounty on the table, and Juliet snatched a chocolate frog, suddenly ravenous. 

“My brother decided to follow the family views and joined Voldemort and his supporters,” Sirius explained as Juliet munched on the snacks. He took a sip of butterbeer. “Suppose he got in too deep, and ended up trying to leave when he realized what was asked of him. Problem is, you don’t just get to leave. You get the mark for life.”

Juliet nodded, swallowing a sip of Butterbeer and taking a package of crisps from the pile on the table. 

“That’s why I worry about you being friends with the Malfoys,” he said rather honestly, spinning the bottle cap from his drink on the table. “They’re Death Eaters, Jules. You’re a Black. A pureblood. Voldemort would love to have you on his side, especially because you’re close to Harry and the Order.”

“Don’t think he knows I like Harry,” Juliet disagreed, swallowing hard on a crisp. “Draco still thinks I’m upset that you like him more than me. He thinks I hate scarhead -Harry-, I mean.”

“I don’t like him more than you, Jules,” Sirius shook his head, looking sharply at her. “I love the both of you equally.”

Juliet was quiet for a moment, the only sound heard was the crunching of her snack. “Did you love James?”

“Yeah, of course I did-”

“No, like, did you love him as a boyfriend?”

Sirius sputtered at the question, looking as though she had beat him over the head with a bat. “For Melins sake- no, I did not love him like that! He was my brother!”

“Oh.”

It was quiet after that. The two of them ate a few more of the snacks, sipping their Butterbeer. By the time the clock struck one thirty, Sirius was herding her upstairs to her room. He made sure she was safely tucked into bed before he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Ginny was already in bed, her mouth agape as she snored loudly. The girl was normally a quiet sleeper, but each time after their Christmas Eve sesh she would take on the sound of a chainsaw. They always got well baked on these nights.

Juliet fell asleep nearly the moment her head hit the pillow, into a dreamless slumber. 

It felt like she had just shut her eyes when she was being woken up by a loud crack near her head, causing her to jerk awake and fall onto the floor. 

“Mphfm,” she groaned, slowly lifting herself off the ground. 

“Sorry!” Ginny was apologizing, her cheeks red. “I knocked over my exploding snap from the twins and it went off.”

“S’okay,” Juliet sat on the bed, her head feeling a bit swollen. “Oh, our presents!”

“Thank you for mine, by the way,” Ginny beamed, motioning towards the beauty products that were lined up on the dresser. “You knew exactly what I wanted.”

Juliet waved off her thanks, gingerly sorting through her own pile. A handmade knit sweater, a dark emerald green with a silver J stitched on the front, from Molly. Remus had given her an assortment of books, ranging from different healing remedies, and jinxes/hexes with their counter curses. Sirius had given her a handheld mirror, with a note detailing that he had the other and they could use it to communicate when she was at Hogwarts. Ginny had given her a book with different beauty spells, and she flicked through it to see pictures detailing different makeup looks and hairstyles that could happen with the swish of your wand. Fred had given her a jar of peruvian darkness powder, something she knew he and George had been working on perfecting for some time now. George had given her a necklace, a dainty silver chain with a gleaming crescent moon charm dangling from it. On the back of the necklace, were the words ‘my moon and my stars’, written in a glittering lettering. 

She held it in her palm for a moment, feeling it grow warm for a moment before cooling down once more. Odd, but she supposed George might have charmed it to do something special. That would be like him. She clasped the necklace around her neck, hanging below the hollow of her throat. 

“We’ll be visiting dad today,” Ginny informed her, running a brush through her hair. “Expect we’ll be leaving soon. Mums had a rough morning, Percy sent back his sweater with no note, good for nothing knobhead..” she muttered a few other insults under her breath.

Juliet stood, digging through her trunk for something to wear. She decided on a dark grey turtleneck tucked into a dark green pleated skirt that fell to the top of her thighs, and grey thigh highs with a ruffled lace trim. Her hair was left down, in neat waves framing her face, courtesy of a spell from the beauty book Ginny had gifted her. The necklace from George glittered in the light. 

Oh, Merlin. George.

The memories of last night came flooding back to her, and she nearly poked her eye with her mascara wand. She and George had absolutely made out and then she left the room. 

Her heart began racing, and as she slid on her black boots, she prayed George didn’t remember. The sound of everyone conversing downstairs floated up the steps, and she made her way down fairly quickly. She at least wanted a cup of tea and a bite of toast before they headed to the hospital.

To her delight, Remus was there and accompanied them to the hospital to visit Arthur. She didn’t run into the twins until they gathered to leave, and as George averted her eyes, her heart sank. He definitely remembered the kiss if the way he refused to look at her was any indication.

When they arrived in the room and had greeted Arthur, Remus drifted off towards the werewolf, who had been looking rather wistfully at the crowd gathered around him. Juliet followed, taking the chance to escape the stifling presence of George who was still pointedly not looking at her.

“Happy Christmas,” Remus greeted, smiling kindly at the man. “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“I’ve heard of you,” the man grunted, eyeing him warily. “You were a Professor at Hogwarts, weren’t you? Until they found out you were a werewolf.”

Remus nodded, keeping a smile on his face. “That would be me. But between you and I, I think it was rather good luck I had been outed. The kids were a bit more wild than I had thought they would be, and my daughter seemed to take a liking to keeping me on my toes.” 

Juliet smirked in agreement, he wasn’t wrong. The man turned his attention to her now, his eyes narrowing. 

“Daughter?” the man questioned. Remus nodded. “Your wife stayed with you even though you’re a werewolf?”

Remus blanched for a moment. “Well, I don’t have a wife. Juliet is my adopted daughter.”

“They let you adopt a kid?”

“I was her godfather, and when her parents were no longer around, Albus Dumbledore vouched for me.” Remus explained, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh,” the man grunted, shifting in his bed. “S’pose you’ve had rotten luck with getting a job since the Daily Prophet article, huh?”

Remus shrugged. “It’s certainly been more difficult to find.”

The man nodded, looking deep in thought. “I got fired once they learned of my condition,” the word twisted from his mouth. “And I’m sure my wife is going to leave me next. She keeps wanting to visit but I don’t want her to end it while I’m laying in a hospital bed.”

“Has she given you any indication that she wants to end it?” Juliet spoke up, tilting her head to the side. 

The man looked at her as though she had grown another head. “I’m a bloody werewolf, who in their right mind wants to stay with that?”

“There isn’t anything wrong with being a werewolf,” Juliet disagreed. “I mean yes, things will be harder, but if she really loves you it doesn’t matter. It’s a manageable condition, and it doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” the man scoffed, looking towards the window. 

Juliet opened her mouth to retort, but Remus placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“I understand,” Remus said quietly. “I was changed when I was five years old by Fenrir Greyback. I’ve had a lot of years to come to terms with my condition, and the one thing that you must remember is that it doesn’t define you. You cannot let it consume you and dictate every aspect of your life; you must learn to work with it instead of attempting to cut corners or ignore it entirely. Your life will never be as it was, but you can make your new normal.”

The man was silent for a moment, and Remus’s words seemed to sink it, as he then asked how he would go about trying to find another job. Remus conjured up a chair, settling in before telling him the different things that worked best for him. 

“Can we talk?”

Juliet turned to see George looking down at her, his face unreadable for the first time to her. She nodded mutely, following him out to the hall. He checked rooms, finding one that was empty and pulling her in with him.

It was a regular hospital room, with an empty bed and various potions lined up on the wall. It was one of the private ones, meaning there was just one bed and an accompanying bathroom. 

“I wanted to say that I was sorry about last night,” George said slowly, his words clear. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously. I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

“Oh,” Juliet responded, feeling as though she had been winded. Her chest stabbed painfully. He said he wasn’t thinking clearly. “Right. ‘Course.”

“So yeah,” George rubbed his neck, teetering on his feet. “So we can forget that it happened, yeah? Go back to being normal?”

“Yeah, of course,” Juliet responded, but her voice was too high and didn’t sound at all like herself. “No problem. I think I’m just going to go back to the room, now, before anyone starts to wonder where we went.”

“Right, of course,” he responded awkwardly, moving towards the door. “So, no one has to know, Fred already promised he wouldn’t say anything.”

Her chest burned with shame. He didn’t want anyone to know that they had kissed. She felt mortified at the thought, he probably wouldn’t want anyone to know he had kissed a slytherin who was two years below him. How embarrassing! And she supposed he was worried about Alicia Spinnet, surely she wouldn’t be too happy to hear about that. And George certainly wouldn’t want to mess that up, she was perfect for him. Pretty and a Gryffindor, sans daddy issues.

“Right, wouldn’t want Alicia to get upset,” the words came from her mouth before she could stop them. “Wouldn’t want you to lose your dream girl over a stupid mistake.”

“What do you-” 

Before George could finish his sentence, she darted from the room, blinking back tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. His rejection had hurt, and she hated that anything had ever happened. No matter how much she had kept thinking of his lips on hers, she would forget it all happily if it meant she hadn’t gotten a taste just for it to be ripped away. How could she just be friends with her best friend who had broken her heart without even knowing it?

By the time she had gotten back to the room, everyone was getting ready to leave. She quickly made her way to Remus’ side, keeping her head down. George had reappeared a few minutes after her, and no matter how many times he tried to get her attention, she pointedly ignored him as he had done to her that morning. It would do her no good to fill her mind with empty fantasies of what would never be.

They went back to Grimmauld Place, where Molly blasted Christmas carols in the living room, and everyone gathered to celebrate the last hours of the holiday. Juliet, Ginny, and Hermione danced along with Remus and Sirius, who kept giving each other the most peculiar of gazes. It was funny for Juliet to see how surprised everyone else was at Remus’ carefree attitude, as they had known him as their teacher. They didn’t know of the days he would dance with her to muggle music in the kitchen.

By the end of the night, everyone was rightly tired out from the excitement of the day. Juliet had made a quick race to her room, having successfully avoided George the entire night. No one aside from Fred had seemed to notice something was off between the two. 

As she clambered up the stairs to her room, she very nearly ran into Kreacher, who was skulking around the portrait of Walaburga Black. He was muttering to himself, and gave her a dirty look as she apologized for running him over.

“Masters daughter apologizes to Kreacher after not watching where she was going, reckless like her father, not like Master Regulus...”

“Regulus?” Juliet questioned, recalling the name from the previous night Sirius had found her high. It was his younger brother, her uncle.

Kreacher nodded eagerly, his large eyes widening. “Master Regulus was so kind to Kreacher, he was the best son of Mistress, most loyal, and Master Sirius acts like he was a dirty no good swine...”

When Kreacher spoke of Regulus, his face took on an unexpectedly soft look of yearning and admiration. When he spoke of the way Sirius viewed his brother, hatred seeped back in and twisted his features.

Juliet paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts carefully before she spoke. She knew that Kreacher seemed to idiolize Regulus, which could explain some of the dislike he harbored towards Sirius. If she were to jump into claiming the things Sirius told her about his brother, that would make Kreacher upset and she would likely never hear more from him on the subject. A large part of her suddenly wanted so desperately to know of her Slytherin uncle. Maybe he had been the same as her, thought of as a typical Slytherin with no one if any bothering to look beyond his house.

“Regulus was my uncle, right, Kreacher?” she questioned, watching his head bob as he nodded. “Can you tell me about him?”

Kreacher eyed her cautiously, his mouth forming a tight line. “Why does Mistress Juliet want to know about Master Regulus?”

“Well,” she paused. “He was a Slytherin like me. He probably would have understood things a lot better than my dad.”

Kreacher nodded vigorously, eager to talk badly about Sirius. “Master Regulus was much better than Master, yes, he would have understood more, so smart he was, not a nasty Gryffindor like Master, proud of his bloodline and good to the very end, especially to Kreacher.”

Juliet bit her lip, waiting a beat before she asked. “I would have loved to know him. Can you tell me... how did he die?”

Kreacher opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Hermione came up the steps, bumping into Juliet.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hermione exclaimed, placing a hand on Juliets arm. “Oh, happy Christmas Kreacher!”

Kreacher scowled immediately, muttering under his breath, “mudblood addresses Kreacher like he cares about her, speaking to the house elf of the most noble ancient House of Black, dirty girl...”

Hermione gave a pained smile, brushing past the two to her bedroom. Juliet cursed her timing, now Kreacher was wandering off down the hall.

“Kreacher,” she called, making the house elf pause in his steps. “Can you tell me about him tomorrow?”

Kreacher gave a jerky nod, and continued off down the hallway. Juliet sighed, and headed off to her room. At least tomorrow, she would find out more on her uncle.

As she got ready for bed, she slid the moon charm along the length of the silver chain, pondering her feelings for George. What she had hoped would be a passing crush had turned into a full blown issue for her. What was she going to do?

The charm once again heated up in her grasp, before cooling back down. She narrowed her eyes, and set the charm on her bedside table. She hadn’t asked George about it. She didn’t get the chance.

Tossing her blanket over her body and burrowing into the bed, she shut her eyes. Ginny’s soft breathing lulled her to sleep, her conflicting feelings of George tightening in her chest.

[2manyfandoms2count]

Love you (not) - Chapter 2

Cheating a little today because I couldn't think of a way to fit a Ghibli AU in the fic. Anyway, thanks to @marichatmay for finally making me watch some Ghibli classics, aka Kiki's delivery service and Howl's Moving Castle. They'd been on my watchlist for far too long!

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Chapter 2: In which Chat Noir and Marinette struggle to hold a conversation without flirting

Chat Noir doubted that he’d ever laughed as much as he’d laughed during his lunch at the Dupain-Chengs. Marinette’s parents had just been so warm and welcoming, that he’d started to wonder if the relationship Marinette and her parents had was extraordinary, or if his vision was simply skewered by his father’s absence. He’d come to the conclusion that it was probably a bit of both; he remembered having fun with his mother as well, but there was something truly special about the way Marinette relaxed in this environment.

He doubted that he’d ever seen her so carefree (between bouts of almost fake embarrassment when Tom’s jokes got too bad for her taste; she kind of shared Ladybug’s facial expression when it came to those) in the relatively short time they’d known each other. He really appreciated her letting him see this part of her, and letting him into her family and her happiness.

This was why, after lunch was over and he really should have been heading home to study up on his Chinese, he’d accepted Marinette’s suggestion to stay a little longer, given the rain that was still pouring outside. There was just something about the prospect of spending more time with Marinette that warmed his heart; and, thinking about it, what harm could a couple more hours do? They’d hang out a bit, Marinette would probably realise that she’d been in love with an image more than with him all this time, and they would part ways as friends at the end of the day. Easy.

Alas, the plan had started to crumble the moment they’d decided to watch a movie together. Tom and Sabine had gone to take a nap after the copious meal (Tom really had gone all out on the courses), and he and Marinette had been left awkwardly standing around, twiddling their thumbs as they tried to figure out what to do.

Chat had spotted Marinette’s Howl’s moving castle DVD under the TV stand as his gaze wandered around the room, and he’d commented that it had been a while since he’d watched it. Marinette had jumped on the occasion, relieved that an idea had been handed to her.

She’d set up the movie and then had sat on one end of the couch, while Chat Noir sat on the other. So far, so good.

Things had started getting difficult when Sophie had entered Howl’s castle, and Marinette, whether by empathy or pure coincidence, had felt a draft and had moved to the angle of the couch - closer to him, although they were still far enough apart that he couldn’t consider it making a move - to escape it.

When that didn’t work to make her feel warmer, she’d whipped a blanket out of seemingly thin air and wrapped herself comfortably in it.

By that point, despite his supposedly thermal suit, Chat Noir had also started feeling cold, and had scooted a little closer so he could slide his feet under a corner of the blanket that wasn’t tucked under his friend. Marinette had then spotted his apparent discomfort, and before he knew it, he was buried under the blanket with her, and although there was still space between them, their shoulders definitely knocked against each other if they moved a bit.

The movie had been captivating enough that neither of them had focused too much on that fact while they watched the plot unfold, but Marinette was suddenly very aware of their situation when the credits started rolling. She wasn’t sure how to get out of it without her partner feeling pushed away, but supposed that sparking a conversation would probably help.

“So…” She turned towards him, stretching a little as she did so and seizing the opportunity to move a little further away from him. "Have you seen many Ghibli movies?" She cringed slightly at the question. Her social skills really seemed to have taken the day off.

"Yep," Chat said with a proud smile. "In fact, I think I've seen them all!"

"Oh, neat!" Marinette smiled, trying to find a good follow-up question. “Erm... so, who do you think you’d be in the Ghibli universe, then?”

He paused to think about it, a pensive pout on his lips, adjusting the blanket around him to close the gap her movement had allowed to form as he did.  “That’s a very good question, to which I don’t have an answer.” He shrugged. Suddenly, all the characters he'd ever related to seemed to have evaded him; one character stood out as he looked at Marinette, though, and he supposed it was good enough to keep the conversation going. “You, on the other hand, would totally be Kiki.”

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “That’s just because I’m small, I have black hair, and I hang out with a talking cat.”

“You wound me, Purr-incess. Those are very superficial arguments.” Chat’s hand flew briefly to his chest, before he realised she wouldn’t see it under the blanket. “Those are some good points, but I actually thought that because you live above a bakery and you sometimes work there, you’re kind of clumsy... In a cute way, don’t worry!” He added quickly when he saw her roll her eyes, before widening his own as he realised what he’d just said. He felt his cheeks warm up under his mask. Marinette looked away, pink dusting her cheeks. So much for keeping things entirely platonic. This wasn’t sending the right message at all. “...And you’re always willing to help people, generally with pretty original plans.” He concluded after clearing his throat.

Marinette and Kiki also shared strong first opinions, he didn’t add. He hadn’t been scorned as long as Tombo had in the movie, granted, but he felt a certain connection to the boy nonetheless, probably because they both also shared a liking for clowning around. He couldn’t say anything about it without revealing too much, though; and he wasn’t sure that comparing himself to a character who had a crush on the character he was comparing her to would be a very good idea.

“So actually, I guess I would be Jiji, then. After all, as you said, I am a talking black cat.”

“You’re a little more than that, though.” Marinette snorted. “I actually think you’d make a fine Howl; you have this protector instinct, even though you seem to like putting yourself in danger - don’t think I don’t read the Ladyblog.” She shot him a pointed look. “But you’re also just both kind and generous, you know?And you obviously have a penchant for justice.”

Chat Noir felt his heart flutter in his chest at the compliments. Marinette really was too nice.

“Also, I guess you do look like him. If you let your hair grow, you really could pull off his cosplay.” She looked at him, head tilted as she started imagining what kind of outfit she could make for him.

“Is that you saying I’m handsome?” Chat waggled his eyebrows, before freezing. He needed to stop sounding this flirty with Marinette. It would just feed her hope, and that simply couldn’t do. He needed to make it clear to her that she was just a friend.

“I mean… it’s not like you’re unpleasant to look at…” Marinette trailed off, before realising what she’d said. She cleared her throat. “But whatever, will you just stop hogging the blanket?” She pulled on her side of it, hoping she could cover her blush with it somehow.

“I’m not! It’s just too small for us both!” Chat tucked his side under him so she wouldn’t take it.

“Fine then, I’ll just have to move closer to you,” Marinette said, looking him straight in the eye.

“Fine by me,” Chat Noir said in spite of himself, part of him screaming that it would have been the perfect excuse to say something about not liking her that way, or even to leave.

“Fine.” Marinette scooted as close to him as possible. Their bodies touched from the shoulder to their feet. What am I doing? She thought as she registered that fact. This is not how I'd seen the day going at all.  “Erm… Want to watch something else on Netflix?” She added, thinking it could only make things less weird.

“Sounds good to me!” Chat gulped next to her. He told himself he'd stay a little more to defuse the slight awkwardness, but promised himself to tell her how he felt before crossing her door to go home. “Maybe we could watch Kiki’s delivery service , since we were talking about it?”

“Sure.”

The pair only got through part of the movie; Tom and Sabine emerged from their room for tea before they’d even reached the halfway mark, and as much as Chat Noir was tempted to stay for the macarons, the excuse to get back was just too good. It would probably be a miracle if Nathalie hadn't already come up to his room to check on him, and if she hadn't he was probably due a visit at any moment. Sabine insisted that he took some leftovers back with him, and he was so touched by the attention that the one thing he’d promised himself he’d do slipped his mind.

He was halfway home when he realised it; he'd been so preoccupied by thanking her parents and her, that he'd forgotten to talk to Marinette one last time, to tell her not to get her hopes up.

Guess I'll have to go back sometime next week, then, he sighed as he popped a macaron into his mouth. Oh, well.