#finally getting the support he was robbed of through his early years... god

[enderbugz]

Hmmmmm thinking abt how Izu went from having literally no friends in middle school to being friends with basically his whole class of 20 kids and a dozen people outside of it. He is so loved ouyghhghhh

[heart-strong]

Are you Miserable?

Summary: Spencers out of jail, Scratch has been caught and Aaron and Jack are back. Spencer's boys are back, so when Penelope offers to take Jack for the night they cannot resist, but the night does not go as anticipated.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x enby Spencer Reid , hurt/ comfort

CW/TW: Sexual Assult, Childhood Sexual Assult (mentioned) prison arc (mentioned), Aaron in witsec (mentioned), intrusive thoughts flashbacks

WC: 2.3k

———

Spencer Reid was in love desperately and since they got out of prison their next goal to get their boys back. Aaron and Jack were now seconds away from them.

“They haven't arrived yet genius?" Penelope scurries through the double doors with JJ and Dave in tow.

"Em went down without me, she said they wouldn't get up here if I went down there." they bounced on the balls of their feet.

"I agree with Emily," Dave added.

With that, the elevator dings, and the three people are reviled to the team. Aaron and Jack Hotchner’s smiles matching inch for inch. Suddenly Jack is throwing his full weight into Spencer’s arms. Aaron's then squishing the boy to their chest and is kissing Spencer’s mouth in front of everyone on the level six FBI floor.

"How have you gotten hotter?" Aaron whispered.

"Prison roughed me up, babe. "Spencer answers, squatting down to talk to Jack. "What do you think, have I changed too much Jackie?"

"I think you look tough like daddy, Spencie. I'm glad we're back though daddy’s been miserable."

"Jack you weren't supposed to tell them that.” Emily giggles at the young boy.

"Sorry, dad. "Jack blushes.

"Okay, I need hugs." Penelope runs up. "I missed you boys." she scoops Jack up." Now, Jackie, you and I are going to have a sleepover. We can’t have daddy and Spence miserable for any longer."

"That sounds so fun!" Jack hugs Penelope tight as Aaron hugs Dave hello. Falling quickly back to the rhythm of the BAU and rejoining the team before he and Spencer head to dinner for the first time in a year.

---

"Ahhh Aaron," Spencer moans in complete pleasure and basking in the presence of Aaron on top of them.

"God, fuck Spence-," Aaron moans into Spencer’s neck while the pair’s legs are intertwined and Aaron works on his partner’s shirt, kissing lower to make a new hickey on Spencer’s pale collar bones. "My Pretty Spencer.” he punctuates with a bite.

While feeling Aaron once again in such a needy way after him being gone for so long, Spencer can't help being overwhelmed. 'I'm just out of practice’ Spencer thinks as they card their hands through Aaron’s hair.

"Mmm Ar, your hairs so long with a year of me not pulling on it." they laugh opening their eyes and looks to the ceiling.

"I hate it, love." Aaron breaths.

Spencer smiles at the comment but knows it won't happen tonight. They hold to the man on top of them because maybe finally having him back in Spencer’s arms it will make the inmate’s words they yelled at them lessen. From the nightmares and intrusive thoughts that Spencer has dealt with since the early days in the prison. But now they’re thinking about it and Aaron's hands are not Aaron’s hands. Aaron’s body is not Aaron’s body. And more of the air leaves Spencer’s lungs. The hips lips legs begin to envelop their body as they gasp for anything. 'But Aarons home, he needs this'.

"God fuck," Aaron wines rolling his body above them. "You are so lovely. I missed you, Spence." His hands force Spencers shirt to move up their chest.

‘This is Aaron, this is my boyfriend.’ they repeat in their mind. ‘The men are still in prison, I am here with Aaron.’ But as Aaron’s other hand is going for his belt. The jumpsuit buttons and they can feel of the stiff mattress as it floods back to them when Milo, no Aaron, unbuckles their belt.

"No," Spencer stiffens and Aaron is off their body, at the other end of the couch in the blink of the eye.

"Baby?" Aaron asks.

Spencer gasps as their chest feels the calloused fingers of Milos on their body. And as they look up to Aaron’s face, 'he'll still love you, you've watched him for years supporting victims.' they think.

"Spencer, Spence can you breath a bit better?" Aaron asks. “Darling in through your nose, out through your mouth baby."

Spencer listens to Aaron and scratches the tears off their faces. When did they start crying? After they start breathing better Aaron goes to the kitchen and gets glasses of water. Spencer accepts it and drinks the entire glass before they look back at their boyfriend.

"Spencer do you want to talk about this now?"

"I was sexually assaulted again, in prison."

"Okay first I love you and this doesn't change that, second may I hug you, you can say no if you don't want me to." Aaron is standing hesitant.

"No, I mean, yes you can. Please Aaron, can you hold me?"Aaron sits down next to Spencer placing his glass next to the empty one and envelope Spencer’s shoulders for a few seconds and then leans back continuing. "Just like before, when you told me about your father, I do not care darling. Now I do care because you should not have had to experience that, I wish I could get your father in jail Spencer."

"Aaron don't you don't,"

"No Spencer Reid, your father touched you when you were five. You knew Jack at five imagine someone touching Jack then, that anger you feel is the same I would feel and do feel. I think about killing him."

"Aaron, you can't say that," Spencer says.

"Why not? I do, if I had known at the time and met your father, I would have killed him during the Riley Jenkins case, I would have stayed."

"Aaron, it not that I don't appreciate the thought, because I do. I really do, you cannot imagine 5-year-old me realizing that what William was doing to me was abusive and not what fathers did to their children how used and unloveable I thought I was,"

"Spencer Diana Reid, you are so very loved." They both smiled at the name. Six months after the two got together Aaron and Jack accompanied Spencer to the courthouse to change their middle name. Spencer had told the team and their boyfriend about their father, then all the hospital visits happened. And every time Spencer had to say 'Spencer William Reid’ they had to hold down bile. Aaron caught onto their discomfort and brought up the idea of changing their name.

"I know that now, but I have you and Jack and the team and Henry and Michael. Aaron, I do not feel loveless now. But, god, okay I have my boys back, and I could not let you not know that it happened again."

"And I assume the guards did nothing."

"The guards did shit, believe it or not, Calvin Shaw found me and brought me to the infirmary."

"Spencer, baby I'm so fucking sorry.” Aaron grabbed their hand and Spencer could feel his shaking. “I do have to ask, have you gotten checked?"

"Aaron,” Spencer scoffed. “Do you think I would have been rolling around with you for the last hour if I hadn't or it came out positive!? No, I would have told you immediately."

"Spencer I had to fucking ask." This is not what Aaron wanted. He honestly wanted, when the elevators opened and he laid eyes on 'roughed up' Spencer, to take the love of his life to the bathroom and ravish them. But then Spencer seemed to be a melancholy aura. And then less than 30 minutes ago they stiffened like the dead bodies they see with the job. "Baby, can we step back please."

"Yes sorry I just, Aaron I wouldn't risk your health babe, sorry I got angry there, I just want your body." Spencer blushes. "I thought, it’s you, and I've been abused and scared almost every year since joining the bureau. Like I should be fine, but that's not how this," they point to their brain, "Works."

"Spencer you do not have to justify yourself to me. How about I make some popcorn, get some tea, you get some jammies on. I will too and we just watch a movie."

"That would be very nice." Spencer grabs Aarons’s thighs and kisses their boyfriend. "I missed you and your use of 'jammies' is beyond adorable.”

"Spencer, have I introduced you to my son Jack Hotchner he's 13?” They both laugh and Aaron kisses Spencer back, carding his hand through their unruly curls.

"Mmm hum, "Spencer hums from the feeling "Touche handsome. I'll be back."

After Spencer leaves Aaron goes to the kitchen preparing the hot water and snacks, knowing how to navigate Spencer’s apartment after years of movie nights with his partner. Some time passes, he has dumped the popcorn in a bowl and two cups of tea are steeping when he hears bare feet padding into the kitchen.

"You still like peppermint and apple mixed? I saw you had them and made it without asking."

"Do you know who you're talking to, yes, may I hug you?"

"Please." before he has the chance Spencer presses their body to his back and nuzzles their nose to Aaron’s hairline. After years after real-life jump scars, the pair did not hug from behind without permission. Spencer’s slender arms wrap around Aaron’s middle.

"Did you pick out something to watch baby?"

"There's a documentary about Polar Bears that looks nice," Spencer says.

"Sounds good, "Aaron rubs Spencer’s arm as they tighten their grip." Do you want to bring these to the coffee table and I'll go change?"

"Sure babe, I missed you so much," Spencer says as he started kissing Aaron’s back.

Aaron turns in Spencer’s arms and finds them in an FBI Acadamy t-shirt too big and too worn out for it to be Spencer's. His FBI shirt.

"Did you miss me or my clothes baby?" Aaron laughs as his partner.

"Your clothes that smell like you.” Spencer blushes. “You see, I have some of your clothes but,"

"They don’t smell like me anymore?" Aaron nods as Spencer’s fluffy hair robs his neck. "If I just hold you you don't have to wear my clothes and I never plan on letting you go."

"Aaron Hotchner you are going to spoil me to death."

"No I will spoil you till the day you die, that's different." Aaron brushed Spencer’s curls out of their eyes. "I'm going to go change baby."

While Aaron is changing Spencer turns on Netflix and pulls up the documentary and bundling up in a blanket. Aaron joins them letting Spencer curl to his body as if the two were magnets to the other. This is what Aaron needed when he saw Spencer, his partner at his side and warm on his body. Over the years after the two got together Spencer would fold to Aaron’s body and sometimes Jack would sit in between them. While the loss of Hailey was painful for everyone on the team, Aaron was happy with Spencer and it made it easier to love them when Jack was also with the two, having fun and calling Spencer ‘Spencie’. Jack would explain to his teachers that ‘My Spencie is picking me up today’ and while it was confusing at first they quickly came to realize that Jack’s father’s partner was nonbinary. And Aaron of course did not care, just about having Spencer at his side and being able to love them.

Spencer ends up falling asleep, their fist clutching Aaron’s shirt and it has been years since Aaron could carry Spencer to bed. So he runs his hand through the beautiful curls atop their head and stops once Spencer's eyes flutter open.

"Hey," Spencer rubs their eyes." Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes, baby. You are so pretty you know, my pretty Spencer." Aaron smiles down at the crinkles in Spencer's cheeks.

"And you, my darling boyfriend, are comfortable."

"Okay my pretty one, brush teeth and bed."

"Aaron you know I am your partner, not your son?"

"Give me a break, the past year I have mostly only hung out with my son."

- - -

Aaron exits the restroom and finds Spencer with a book and their glasses on. "Hey Spencer before we go to bed can we chat?"

"Yes of course, but also I am quite sleepy you know."

"yes, I'll be quick," Aaron laughs and sits at Spencer’s feet. "I know we started that conversation and I feel like we dropped it quickly."

"Babe, you don't need to," Spencer sits up grabbing Aaron’s hands.

"Spence, for my brain I do need to, so can I?"

"Of course Aaron go ahead.” Spencer closes his book. "Can I snug while?"

"Come here baby," Aaron reaches out for them, and Spencer crawls into his lap and wraps their legs around Aaron’s hips. "Okay seriously though, you are my everything and your father did not deserve having you. And I hate thinking about if he had stayed. I love you so much and the shit that happened to you in there doesn't change a thing."

"Thank you for saying that babe." Spencer blushed. "I can't imagine not having my boys back."

"I'm very glad having you back too, I really was fucking miserable."

"Are you miserable now?"

"No."

"Then can we snuggle for the rest of our lives?"

"That sounds fantastic baby.”

Spencer kisses Aaron with a nod." I will say Ar, I want Jack back and I want us to move in together, we've been together for years and I love Jack. Jack loves me. Not to toot my own horn, but like I get to love and receive love from the Hotchner boys."

"Spencer Reid, you fucking beat me to the question.” Aaron fakes disappointed hitting his forehead on Spencer’s shoulder. “Jack asked if we could move in when we came back. But I think it’s a bit too late to go get him tonight though. So for now, snuggles?"

"I like snuggles!"

Spencer pulls Aaron on top of them and catches his mouth. Aaron Hotchner was the person or man for them. Aaron thought the same for Spencer, Spencer loved his kid and his kid was the person Aaron loved them most in his life. The pair fell asleep intertwined in the sheets. And when the sun rose the first thing out of Aaron’s mouth was, "Hey my pretty Spencer, do you want to go get our boy?"

"Our boy? God, I love the sound of that, yes."

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 14: The Test Results - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

Day 14: The Test Results - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia 

Todays story was requested by @itspdameronthings​. Thank you so much for the request and I really hope you like it. This is the longest of all the stories I have written for the November Writing Challenge.

November Writing Challenge Masterlist 

Day 13: Water Flowed- Llewyn Davis 

Day 1 

“Do you have to go?” Your voice is quiet as you watch him pack his bags from your seat on the bed. 

“Querida, you know I don’t want to but they are asking me back as a favor AND I’m being compensated. I worked in Columbia for three years, it's where my mother was born. I feel like I need to do this,” he kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his own. “It’s only four months and I promise I will call and text you every single day. It’s killing me to leave you but...I feel I have to do this.” 

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was a former member of Delta Force in the US Military before leaving to go work for the DEA in Columbia. Three years ago, he left Columbia to return home but not without one final mission. He got together a few of his old buddies from the force and robbed a drug lord before killing him and fleeing the country. But something went wrong. Well… a lot of shit went wrong, resulting in the death of his old captain, Tom, and forcing them to leave millions of dollars off the side of a cliff buried in the snow. 

Santiago had accepted a temporary assignment with the DEA to return back to Columbia and train some new recruits. You were not one bit okay with this plan but the one thing you loved and also kind of hated about your husband was how headstrong he could be. Unfortunately, you are just as stubborn as him. The last few weeks leading up to his departure had been fraught with arguments. You didn’t want him to go. Even though it had been years since that last mission, you didn’t know what the situation down there was. Were they still hunting for the men who had robbed and gunned down Lorea? Was he walking into a trap? No money was worth losing the man you loved, and he didn’t seem to understand that. 

“You don’t have to do anything.” The words are bitter on your tongue and Santiago winces, before moving to stand. “We don’t need that money, and you have no idea what you walking into baby…” 

“Y/N, we have talked about this enough. I am going!” He slams the top of his suitcase closed before pulling the zipper harshly and walking towards the door. He turns sharply at the door pointing at you, “Why do you keep arguing with me about this? I have told you a million reasons why I need to do this! Instead of supporting me you're just fighting with me!” 

“I do support yo-” 

“Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it.” he swings his backpack on his back, puts on his hat and walks out the door. You’re on your feet in a hurry. “Goddamnit, Santiago! Will you just fucking listen to me for two minutes?”  You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. He’s fuming and you can tell the volcano is seconds away from blowing. “I DO support you! I understand WHY you feel the need to do this but I LOVE YOU and I don’t want to LOSE YOU!” 

You're out of breath from shouting, and you see the anger slowly fade from his face as he comes to stand closer to you, “Querida...baby you're not going to lose me. I love you….so … damn … much. I never really felt alive until I met you, and no one,” he puts a finger under your chin and raises your eyes to his own, “no one is going to take me away from you.” 

“You can’t promise that…” Your words come out broken and a choked sob escapes you. “You don’t know what’s going to happen. Santi I can’t lose you. I won’t survive without you…” 

“Shhh.” He pulls you close and you collapse in a sobbing heap into his chest, your tears soaking the front of his t-shirt, his hands are strong as he holds you close. “I know nothing is one hundred percent but I love you and I am going to come home back to you. Nothing could ever keep me away.” He pulls you away from his chest, wiping your eyes before kissing you gently.

“I love you too Santi, so much.” You sigh into the kiss and hold him tight before he pulls away, walking towards the door, grabbing his duffle bag from the floor and walking out, taking your heart with him. 

Day 31 

Santiago kept good on his promise and called and texted every single day, each time letting you know he was safe and how much he loved you. He was working hard down there, and he loved the adventure, even if he missed you like crazy. You missed him too and the combination of being without your husband, taking care of the whole house, your shared basset hound, and work was draining. It was only a matter of time before you started feeling under the weather. You had been feeling fatigued, sore throat, cough, and after two days of vomiting throughout the day you had to admit it, you were sick. 

On your nightly call with Santi the worry in his voice warmed your heart. “Baby, you need to go to the doctor and get checked. Remember when you got bronchitis last year? It was pretty bad.” 

You hack into the receiver “Yeah, maybe you're right. I just feel like shit Nauseous all day long. Jonathon actually sent me home today. Said he was worried about me ‘infecting’ the office.” 

Santi mutters under his breath but you hear him and snort. “Yeah I agree he is a dick, but I appreciate being sent home. I’ll go to the urgent care tomorrow.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“Yes, I promise. I want to feel better...I just hate going to the doctor.” You recall the many times Santi had to drag you kicking and screaming (sometimes literally) to the doctor. 

“Why don’t you ask one of the guys to go with you?” 

“Maybe...Frankie mentioned he was off tomorrow when I called him yesterday....” 

“See. It was meant to be. Why don’t you text him after you hang up with me and he will make sure you go? Then I can rest easy tonight knowing you’re ok. I wish it were me though. I would take such good care of you baby.” 

“Oh yeah?” What would you do if you were here?” You snuggle down into the comforter with your box of tissues, hot tea, the humidifier and his deep soothing voice lulling you to sleep. 

It doesn’t take long before your soft snores fill the phone and Santi smiles to himself. Listening to the sounds of his love finally feeling at rest. When you wake up three hours later to throw up the light from your phone signifies a message. 

I called Frankie, he’s going to come by at 10 o’clock to take you for an appointment. I booked it online through the app. Get some rest and drink lots of fluids. I love you. - Hubby 

You smile before brushing your teeth and crawling back into the warmth of your bed and falling back to sleep, dreaming of your husband. 

Day 32 

The next morning Frankie rings the doorbell at exactly 9:45.Like all the other Delta Force guys (except Benny), they are meticulously early. You greet him with a cup of coffee with his own special airplane shaped mug, complete with his name engraved on the side. You knew that when you married Santiago, Frankie came as part of the package. 

“Hi Garcia, how ya feeling?” He wraps one arm around your shoulder and you lean into the embrace, placing your head on his arm. 

“To be completely honest Cat? I feel like shit.” 

Frankie lets out a small laugh before rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Well then let’s get you to the doctor. You got your insurance card?” 

“Yeah it’s in my bag.” You grab your brown knit bag, swinging it over your shoulder. 

“Then let’s get going.” He guides you out to his truck, helping you into the seat before running around the front to the driver's seat. 

About twenty minutes later you're pulling into the parking lot of your doctor. Frankie walks you inside helping you get signed in. It's another thirty minutes before you're put back into a room, sitting on crinkled tissue paper, Frankie reading back issues of People. The door opens and you sit up a little straighter. 

“Mrs. Garcia?” You nod. “I’m Dr. Jacobs. What can I help you with today?” 

You proceed to tell her what’s been going on and she goes through the motions, asking you all about your symptoms, checking your ears, nose, throat, and chest. When she's done she types everything into her tablet, “one more question, when was your last menstrual cycle?” 

You open your mouth to answer before closing it slowly. “When was my last...Oh. Uhm,” you laugh nervously at a loss for words, “about a month ago it should be starting any day now…” 

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” she asks, looking between you and Frankie. 

“Oh, he’s not my husband!” 

“I’m her husband's best friend. He’s out of the country.” 

“Well it sounds like you may have the flu but I would like to run some labs as well if that’s alright with you, and maybe a pregnancy test just to be sure?” 

You laugh. “Sure doc whatever you need, but I am not pregnant.” 

Day 35 

You swing your car haphazardly into the driveway narrowly missing a planter box and running over Mia’s pink bike. The front door slams open. Frankie is running down the driveway, yanking the car door open and pulling you into his arms. Your sobs are staining your cheeks and you're a blubbering mess. 

“Garcia! What the hell! Are you ok!?” Frankie checks you over. You shake your head frantically. 

“NO! No I am not ok!” you shout! “The test results came back!” 

“Oh god, is it bad!? Cancer? Diabetes? Fuck! Did Pope give you some kind of STD because I swear I will kick his ass for you!” 

“NO! God...no...I'm...Pregnant!” You break down in sobs and hold onto Frankie who starts to laugh. “Stop laughing! This is serious! Frankie!!” 

He chuckles squeezing you tighter, “Garcia this is wonderful! You're gonna be a mom and Santiago is going to be a daddy! Mia will have someone to play with. Fuck, I’m so happy for you guys.” You pull away to see a huge smile on his face. 

Some of his excitement rubs off on you and you rub your nose on the sleeve of your shirt before you smile, “I’m gonna be a mommy…oh shit Frankie what do I tell Santi?

“We will worry about that later. But right now let’s get you home and back to bed. You still have that cough and you need your rest.” 

Day 36 

“Hey baby. How is my favorite man?” 

“Oh Querida I miss you so much. I think I forgot how much I love being out in the field. The rush, the thrill. It’s addicting.” 

Your heart drops and for a minute you say nothing. How the hell could you tell him about the baby? He would want to come straight home and he’s loving the work.

“Everything is great here. Yeah, I got the test results yesterday from the lab and everything is normal. I just have the flu and since I’ve been off the last few days I’ve rested and drank lots of fluids and I am feeling much better.” 

“Oh good, I was so worried about you.” He sighs. “I got a new app on my phone that counts down to the second till I get to be back with you.. I love you so much Querida.” 

You bite your lip to keep from crying before letting out a shaky breath, “I love you too baby, and I can’t wait to see you soon.” 

The conversation shifts and when you hang up with your husband you shoot a quick text off to Frankie. 

Don’t mention ANYTHING about the pregnancy to Santiago. I’ll tell him when he gets home. 

What? Why? 

He loves being there and if we're going to have a baby then he's not going to be able to do this again. If I tell him you know he will just come home early. 

Ok...I still think you should tell him. You're going to need support though...he’s still going to be gone for three more months. 

Your right...Frankie...will you be my person? 

... of course. Get some sleep Garcia. 

Day 100 

Four months doesn’t seem like a long time. But when you're pregnant and missing your husband it seems like a lifetime. It had been one hundred days since Santi had left for South America and only twenty-two more days till he came home. When you did the math in your head you had become pregnant two weeks before Santi had left. Meaning you were well on your way to being a very noticeable pregnant woman. 

You had been shopping a couple times with Benny to Motherhood Maternity store to get some bigger clothes because yours refused to fit. Also a very interesting trip to Babies-R-Us where after much convincing he did not purchase the entire store for his future niece/nephew. Will had been attending your doctor and lab appointments with you. And sweet Frankie had been helping you around the house, getting groceries when you were too tired, keeping up the yard, and taking you and your dogs for walks to keep you moving. Your husband’s brothers had become your own, and you loved them for it. Only 22 more days. 

Day 120 

You're sitting at the kitchen table doing a puzzle with Will when Frankie comes in carrying takeout and a squirming Mia. He puts her down and she rushes toward you. 

“TIA GARCIA!” she screams, launching herself into your arms. 

“MIA!” you shout, squeezing her tightly before tickling her sides. She giggles before shimmying out of your lap and running to the kitchen. Coming back a moment later carefully balancing (at least as careful as a three year old can) a plate filled with watermelon to you. 

“Papa says this is for the baby,” she tells you in what could be called an attempted whisper but more like a shout. 

“Why are you whispering Mia?” 

“Papa says that I have guts to be quiet because the baby is sleeping.” She leans forward and hugs your slightly protruding belly before climbing into the kitchen chair across from you. 

You give Frankie an amused look and he smiles with a shrug before plating out the food. Pizza for them and watermelon for you. It’s all you seem to want anymore. “Oh come to mama.” You spear a piece before placing it in your mouth, moaning as the cold sweet juice goes down your throat. 

“So I’m taking you to the airport on Friday to pick up Santiago. Any ideas on how you're going to tell him?” Frankie asks, taking a large bite of pizza. 

“Well I think he’s going to know.” You gesture to your stomach, spearing another piece of melon. 

“I’ve been looking up ideas on how to tell people you're pregnant, and you could give him a jar of pasta sauce,” Will says and you all look at him like he’s nuts, “No, hear me out it’s Prego pasta sauce...get it, Prego?” 

You groan before taking another bite, “I think he’s going to notice I’m pregnant before I can even give him a jar of pasta sauce Will.” 

“Not if he doesn’t see your stomach first…” Frankie says, “what if you made a sign?” 

“A sign?” 

“Yeah like when we used to come home from a tour and the families would have signs. You could make a sign!” 

You think about it for a minute before you fall in love with the idea. You go to the office and come back with a couple poster boards you kept for work presentations. You place one in front of Mia who squeals and grabs one of the markers you provide. You get to work outlining the words and filling them in with his favorite colors blue and red. When completed, you lift it up and show it to the others.

“That’s perfect!” Frankie beams. 

“Bet you 50 bucks he cries,” Will says. 

“Deal,” they slap hands and you glare, before smiling at the two. Only two more days. 

Day 122 - Santiago Comes Home 

You feel sick, what if he doesn’t want to have a baby? Will he be mad I kept this from him? Shit, maybe this was a terrible idea. What the hell was I thinking? 

“Garcia, you need to calm down, you're making me stressed.” 

“What if he doesn’t want this? What if he is disappointed? What if-” Frankie stands up and puts his hands on your shoulders. 

“Garcia listened to me. Santiago loves you more than anything in this entire world and he is going to love this baby just as much maybe even more. He may be surprised yeah but trust me. Once he wraps his brain around it, he’s going to be ecstatic.” He pulls you in for a hug and you take a deep breath, calming your nerves. 

The constant flow of travelers does nothing to lessen your anxiety. You take a deep breath and almost choke on the smell of espresso from the nearby Starbucks. Frankie gives you one last squeeze before handing you the sign and stepping back as people flood out of the gate. 

You rise to your tiptoes in search for a familiar head of salt and pepper curls. When in a break of the crowd you see him, running in a full sprint towards you. His face split into a megawatt smile. As he gets close enough to touch, you hold up the sign. He slows down slightly as he reads and you watch the smile fade only slightly before it’s replaced by shock. 

Welcome home daddy 

He reaches forward, holding tight to the poster board and slowly lowering it, eyes transfixed at your swollen belly. Silence. His hands shake as they put the sign on the floor, his eyes never leaving you. Your heart races and you feel the urge to vomit return again before he drops to his knees. 

You wince, “Baby, your knees…” reaching down to pull him up, but he makes no move to stand, his hands coming to your stomach. Placing his lips gently over your shirt. His forehead rests against you and tears drench your shirt. The baby chooses that moment to make their presence known kicking softly against his cheek. You run your hands through his curls and he looks up at you with a watery smile and a small laugh. 

“Querida, you’re pregnant. We’re...we’re having a baby…” he sniffles and you can’t help the tears in your own eyes. “Why...why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home…”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t. You’ve been so happy these past few months and I knew you needed to do this. Yes, I was scared as hell about losing you but...I understood.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers before shakily getting to his feet and clutching you tight, his hands frame your face and he pulls you close getting lost in the kiss, “I love you...so fucking much,” he whispers putting his forehead against your own. “I love you too. I’m so glad your home… I mean the guys have been great but I’m excited to go shopping for baby stuff with you, attend my doctor appointments together, and have you bring me platefuls of watermelon.” 

He laughs pulling back, “Watermelon? Is that what you’ve been craving?” 

“Oh god yes, even talking about it makes my mouth water.” 

“If that is what you want Querida, then you can have as much as you desire,” he kisses you again. 

A cough sounds from behind and you turn to see Frankie smiling at you.  Santi reaches out to give him a slap on the back, the two conversing in Spanish. You hold your hand out and Santi latches on, never letting go as you make your way through the terminal and out to the truck. 

The world passes by in a kaleidoscope of color as Frankie drives you both home. Arriving, you thank him before leading Santi by the hand and into the house. When the door is latched behind you, he presses you into the door gently. Every touch, every caress, left you breathless. His lips warm and wet against your own. When you take a breath his tongue snakes inside and he drags you from the door, striping each other, leaving a trail of clothes to the bedroom. 

After you’ve been thoroughly fucked and your wrapped up in Santiago’s strong arms, legs intertwined together, and he’s rubbing your belly do you finally relax. Sighing into his chest, and kissing it lightly. “Your really happy about the baby?” you whisper, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. 

His grip around you tightens, “I promise you, I am very happy about the baby. You made me a daddy Querida. I love you...so much.” 

You sigh, “I love you too.” 

3 months later 

Eight months of pregnancy has flown by. After Santi got home from Columbia he took over doing everything. Attending your appointments together, buying and building things for the nursery, and bringing you platefuls of watermelon at all times of the day and night. Santiago takes the roll of daddy very seriously. All of those year in the military have come into play the last few months as he has transformed your house into a fortress. God help anyone that tries to hurt you or your unborn daughter. 

It started small with a few extra cameras on the perimeter, then installing a new indoor security system. A new fence was put up around the pool two months ago, and most recently the baby monitors set up throughout the house. He was beginning to drive you a little insane and you honestly just wanted him to lay off a bit. The perfect opportunity arose one fateful morning during breakfast. 

“So I’ve been thinking Querida, how do you feel about putting carpet on the floor of the nursery?” 

Part 2: Carpet (If you haven’t read it, check it out!)

Day 15: Just Walk Away- Ezra (Prospect) 

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (20/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: The High Lords go to battle against the Autumn Court. You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ If you'd like to get an early preview on the next chapter, follow me on Instagram at @house.of.hurricane.

The army from the Spring Court is small but Tamlin makes sure to greet and thank each warrior lined up in front of his estate, the same enthusiasm for the lower faeries as he gives to the members of the nobility who have arrived from their country estates. Tomorrow, at the Autumn Court, any of them could die. He does not want to forget a single name or face, and he wants them to know he’s seen each of their faces.

He used to shield himself from most of his army as a guard against the inevitable loss. It was easier, his father always said, to craft a winning stratagem when the general thought more about the victory than the ensuing loss of life. But more and more, Tamlin is feeling his father’s perspective unravel inside of his mind. He feels unmoored but also, sometimes, unbound in an entirely new way.

Anyway, he cannot quite believe that anybody answered his summons. Even after the months spent visiting the villages throughout the Spring Court, listening and commiserating and offering solutions, the humbling visits to the estates of his nobility, Tamlin thought they hated him. Although Lucien and Elain and Vassa had all helped him with the wording of his pleading summons, he expected that a request for an army of volunteers would go unanswered, that the lands around his estate would be empty save for the flowers. When warriors, males and females and those who see themselves in other ways, began to arrive at the Spring Court, he could barely manage to keep his composure, to restrain the tears that threatened to spill alongside strangled shouts of relief and joy. All he’d known in his life was leading warriors, and he had fully expected to never have that sense of purpose again, that he would fight alone until some stronger enemy claimed him.

So he has made his plans and preparations in a state of urgency and gratefulness which seems both old and new to him, interrupted only by meals and Elain, pulling him into another world for an hour, food unlike any he’s tasted, languages he’s never heard, and kisses that quench and also leave him wanting her so deeply he practically gasps with need. She is helping Lucien with diplomatic work and with the understanding of Koschei’s magic and spells, but in other worlds, neither of them speaks much of their work. They share little secrets and amusements and compliments. He tells her everything he would want her to know if he were to die in this battle. For so long, Tamlin had never thought about the possibility of death, and when it finally occurred to him, he wanted it to claim him. Now, for the first time in all the long years of his life, he both acknowledges the possibility of death and wants dearly to avoid it.

Throughout the morning, the army completes its drills. First, they go through the physical motions: the basic weaponry and the formations which, thankfully, they have not forgotten since the war with Hybern, some from wars that took place centuries before. Then, there are the drills in magic, determining the gifts of the army and how they might be used.

Finally, as the sun falls toward the horizon, he shows his commanders the formations, and within minutes, he sees a small army lined up neatly behind him, each flank poised and ready, on horse and on foot, their weapons poised to strike.

They all look to him, in the front of their group, and Tamlin tries to meet the gaze of each person, even as he knows that’s impossible with even this small army, the thousand volunteer warriors from across the Spring Court.

Behind him, he hears the doors of the estate open, and even before her sweet scent reaches him, Tamlin knows Elain is watching. He clears his throat, focuses only on what he had planned to say, well before he knew she would hear.

“Tomorrow we will march on the Autumn Court,” he says, magic amplifying his voice to a confident boom, “and I suspect you may wonder why I have summoned you to this battle. You may think that the determination of a ruler in another court will not affect you. But in that, you will be wrong. The males who want to seize rule of the Autumn Court seek to ally with a powerful death-lord on the continent. That creature seeks to seize friends of our own court to fuel his own wicked ends. If captured, he will use them in order to rule this world and every other. Tomorrow, you do not only fight for Eris Vanserra to take the High Lord’s throne in the Autumn Court. You fight for the saving of our world, and I thank you for your courage.”

When he takes a breath, the rapt silence stretches on, and Tamlin realizes that this was when he used to feel most comfortable, leading his war band. When he knew every face and believed that he and all his company would gladly die in order that the others would survive. He’s not sure when he lost that perspective, but now he takes a moment and searches each face, engraving it in his mind.

“My cook and his staff have been working for days to prepare a feast for you, but before you go inside to eat, I want to thank you sincerely for your bravery and courage. For the kindness you are showing to the people of this world. I hope that your bravery will be remembered in legend and in song. As long as I live, I will celebrate you.”

The clapping begins near the doors of his estate, and sweeps across to his warriors, his army, who clap and shout their support until at last Tamlin cannot contain the tears that fall down his cheeks.

As their applause dies down, Elain’s voice sounds in his head, remind them that there is dessert in the gardens!

Tell them at dinner yourself, emissary, he tells her, by magic or pure will, before turning and drinking her in. She’s wearing a dress the color of new grass in the sunshine, fastened at her waist with a slim pink belt, her bare shoulders luminous as the moon in the twilight. When she meets his gaze, her brown eyes are warm and intoxicating as whisky, and the thought of the battle, the possibility of losing her, is enough to crush the air from his lungs.

“How was training?” she asks, as soon as he reaches the doors. Lucien has joined her, his eyes fixed on the horizon for Vassa, but Tamlin knows he’s listening.

“They’re ready,” he tells them both.

“And if Koschei is at the Autumn Court?” The question is familiar, one she’s asked him every day since a battle became inevitable.

“I’m prepared to hold the shield until they can all be winnowed away.”

“I’ll come for you,” Elain says, as she always does.

“You’ll be needed for the saving of this world,” he tells her, the answer that he means more every time he says it. He reaches out for her fingers, clutches them tightly in both his hands, brings them to his lips. “You’ll stay with Lucien and Vassa and ensure there is peace. That there will be some beauty after all this war.”

Her sigh is laced with tears, and beside her Lucien groans.

“Will you two be like this until he leaves? Because if so, I will need to change my seat at dinner.”

“You will be flirting outrageously with Vassa the minute any of the Spring Court commanders so much as looks at her appreciatively,” Elain says as she twines her fingers in Tamlin’s and walks into the estate, he and Lucien following in her footsteps.

No one, now or when she arrives at the feast an hour later, remarks on Vassa’s changed appearance. The Queen of Scythia has always been slender, but she has lost weight since Koschei captured her, and since her return, her golden brown skin has grown pale, deep purple hollows forming under her blue eyes. Lucien has tried to conceal his alarm, but Tamlin knows that these changes drive him to spend every daytime moment negotiating an alliance against Koschei, studying his magic and the makings of the curse that binds Vassa tighter than ever.

Still, she makes herself as merry as anybody, asking the nobles questions about wars known to her only in history and myth, trading stories about the battle with Hybern, explaining that yes, she was a firebird all day today, and no, she does not particularly recommend the experience, although she wishes that everyone could see Elain’s garden through the firebird’s eyes, because there is nothing more beautiful in this world.

When Tamlin looks to Elain, he sees the tears in her eyes, and grips her hand below the table.

“How early are you leaving?” she asks, her finger rising to the edge of his sleeve, dipping beneath the fabric.

“Hours before sunrise,” he says. If he could winnow his warriors, they could leave later, but they will ride hard to the Autumn Court in the hours before the battle, replenishing the horses with magic. “After touring your gardens, this army will sleep.”

“No detours?” Her thumb reaches the inside of his arm, the skin that, despite all his training, has remained relatively soft. He manages to contain the sound of all his wanting.

“When I return safe to you,” he says, “you can take me to whatever world you like.”

He knows there is still shame inside her at the notion of their pairing, which explains why she only kisses him in other worlds, why their exchanges in this one are furtive and laced with double entendres.

“You should talk to your warriors,” she tells him, though she still holds him, their hands hidden by the table linens.

“Come with me, emissary,” he says, knowing the invitation is a test.

Still, though Elain drops his hand, she follows him down the line of the table, repeating the name of each warrior and thanking them for their service, asking about their experience and talents, listening deeply to their answers, to Tamlin’s own questions and stories.

They work their way down the table, and then she circles back to Vassa and Lucien, hovering over the human queen but coaxing a smile to her lips, a laugh from Lucien. After a few seconds, Elain looks up and meets Tamlin’s eye, and he watches her smile widen, her eyes grow bright.

As he leads his army into the garden, to the cakes and sorbets that Cook insisted were perfect for a spring evening, Tamlin thinks about that tableau, the golden circle the three of them made. He’s always found himself outside such circles, separated from his brothers by the power he had to keep hidden, from the Spring Court nobles by his own unease, his people and the other High Lords and practically everyone in Prythian seeming far beyond his grip.

But Elain’s look was an open door into another world, unlike the one he’s always known.

Tamlin spends the next hour talking to the warriors, focusing on the beings of more humble origins. Lucien had made the recommendation, pointing out that Melis was a lesser faerie, the advantage the lowerborn have in numbers alone. As he speaks to the faeries of every height and skintone and magic, he’s surprised by how easily the conversations flow, how eager the other fae are to speak with him, especially when he begins asking questions, listening the way Elain does, nodding and chuckling and meeting dozens of unfamiliar eyes.

He’s just served himself a slice of chocolate cake when he meets a pair of eyes he’d never seen. Not because he does not know this male, but because he would never meet Tamlin’s gaze before.

“I didn’t think you would ever join the army, Ilya,” he says, clapping the village blacksmith on the back.

“There’s never been a volunteer army in this court,” Ilya responds, nodding his head. “At least not for the last thousand years. I want to be able to say I was part of the first that anyone can remember.”

“I’m grateful.”

“You’ve changed, High Lord.” Ilya darts a glance at Elain, who is listening intently to another villager who is explaining the medicinal properties of forest plants. “You’ll pardon my asking, but does it have anything to do with the lady at your side?”

“Elain Archeron is serving as emissary of this court,” he says, and then, because he is so grateful for the ways that this conversation is unlike their first, “and she, just as much as you, deserves for it to be a place where everyone is treated decently. I am sorry I have never provided you with such a home.”

“You’re the first person in my memory who has tried, at any rate.”

Tamlin presses his hand over his own heart and bows. There’s nothing he can say, not against the knot in his throat. Ilya gives him a smile and a nod and goes to join a knot of villagers, and Tamlin walks in the direction of the woods, intending to eat the cake and collect himself.

He’s barely made it to the trees before he detects Elain’s scent.

“You’re not going to prowl the forest all night, are you?” The question is light but somehow the words are not a jest. Though perhaps it is the conversation he just left, the weight of the day to come.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling her fragrance of peonies and rose and berries, a perfect morning in the thick of spring.

“Do you believe I’ve changed?” he asks her. He does not look at her, only hears her footsteps against the fallen leaves, the sigh of her skirts.

“I want to believe that you are different now. That you’re better than the person who allied with Hybern and tormented my sister. But part of me wonders if I’m imagining everything because of what I feel towards you.”

As she speaks, the darkness of the evening seems to grow even dimmer. He has felt the world shift inside him, as if he sees everything with the eyes of Vassa’s firebird. And to be seen by her as more or less the same, capable of destroying her, is a blow graver than any he’s suffered in battle.

“You think the mating bond has blinded you.” He cannot bring himself to phrase it as a question.

“I wish I could have chosen you on my own,” she says, and she’s reached out to him, her fingers on his elbow, now on his chest, her skirts swishing against the tips of his boots. “I wish I could have known for certain that this is what I want, not some ancient magic that says our children would be powerful.”

He wants to draw her toward him, flush against his body, at the mention of children, the idea of a future with her, but instead he only presses his hand over hers, holds it against his thumping heart.

“I am so afraid that you will be hurt tomorrow,” she says, stepping closer to him, her body curled up against him, warm and sweet and soft. “I do not want you to think that -- that I feel nothing towards you. It’s only…”

“That I’ve been a monster.”

“And I’ve been a stupid child all my life. I think that you are different now, Tamlin. It’s only that I want you to be good so badly, because then I wouldn’t have to be guilty about my feelings. I could just...”

Once again she doesn’t complete the thought, only twines her fingers in his hair, strokes the back of his neck, and finally he crushes her in his arms so that her feet leave the ground entirely.

“I will come back to you tomorrow,” he says. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“I wish--” she starts, and this time he kisses her. Her lips taste like chocolate, and she opens her mouth to his with a little moan that unravels him. But tomorrow he will rise before the dawn and lead his army into battle, so Tamlin forces himself to set Elain on her own two feet, tries to tame the desire on his features to an acceptable facade.

“We’ll have time,” he says, and then, hand in hand, he walks with her, out of the forest and into the Spring Court.

&

&

&

When the sun rises over the Spring Court army, they’ve already ridden for hours in near silence. By midmorning, they are to meet the rest of Prythian’s armies at the Autumn Court, and the group is making better time than Tamlin had expected, riding swiftly enough that, at the borders of his lands, he allows them a short respite, during which he seeks out his most trusted commanders, who fought with him in the war bands, and reviews the battle plan.

He did not tell Elain the truth when she asked him for his strategy. He will not shield his court from the front lines of the battle.

The Summer Court has volunteered to shield the assembled army. Tamlin and Rhys had realized, on their mission against Koschei, that water magic would prevail the longest against the fire of the Autumn Court. Feyre has worked with Tarquin and Varian over the past week, according to the reports from the Night Court, and they have not only developed new shielding techniques but methods for attack, fearsome creatures animated by spellwork and will. The Spring Court commanders who can hold a shield will do so if the Autumn Court breaks through, but meanwhile Tamlin will be inside the keep itself with Helion, rescuing Cybele from the tyranny of her sons, or else fighting her until she yields. Helion has given no sign that he knows the Lady of Autumn’s allegiance, or even, since neither of them can winnow, how they will enter the keep, only winked and assured Tamlin he was on the winning team for once. The gesture made him think of Lucien, the swagger his friend sometimes allows to shine through. But entering the keep is riskier than remaining outside it. They have gathered no intelligence on what has happened at the Autumn Court since the day of Beron’s death, the last time anyone else in Prythian was able to get inside. If Koschei awaits, or High Fae from the continent, Tamlin knows that mere hours could separate him from his death.

Still, he rides onwards through the Autumn Court, the trees the color of earnest flames, and finally, Tamlin lets himself think of Elain, her warm gaze and the mind that whirls behind it, her sweet mouth and the way the words she speaks could form their own perfect world. The magic in her, bright as a new star. He wishes he could have left her being confident of her love, but at least he is certain of what she can create on her own.

As they draw near to the keep, Tamlin lays a thick glamour over the army, shielding them from the eyes and ears of the Vanserra brothers. The hoofs of the horses are muffled even to his own ears.

Nearly there?

The sound of Rhysand’s voice in his mind is like a thousand biting insects, but Tamlin does not push him out. Instead, he allows Rhys access to his vision.

You’ll be there in ten minutes. We’ll be ready. Drop the glamour as soon as you’re in range of the keep.

He waits until all trace of Rhysand is gone to feel, just for a moment, his frustration at being commanded. Then he surrenders himself to the killing calm.

When he reaches the wall of flames, he drops the glamour, and for a moment, the field of battle is empty aside from the Spring Court force.

He is sure, then, that he’s been abandoned by the rest of Prythian, is grateful when he feels the shield form behind him, that his people will be safe enough to begin their retreat. He’s glad that Elain is far, far away.

Then the wall of water springs up a few inches in front of his horse, and the great white bears of the Winter Court appear, and the sky is full of Illyrians, their siphons flashing.

You thought we’d leave you to die? Rhysand is laughing into his mind, and Tamlin cranes his neck, looking for the overgrown bat.

I probably deserve it, he thinks.

Now, now, Rhysand drawls, you still have work to do.

So do you, Tamlin fires back, now looking for Helion, who strides through the lines as if this is merely a training exercise. As soon as he spots Tamlin, the world dissolves and Tamlin stumbles into what looks like the interior passageways of the Autumn Court keep, dark stone hallways lit by torches. Helion is implacable as he was on the battlefield, calmly studying his surroundings, his armlet glinting even in the dim light.

“I didn’t think you could winnow,” Tamlin mutters as he reaches for his sword.

“There are always ways around any limitation if you’re creative enough,” Helion says, flashing a smile that leaves no doubt of his self-estimation. “I believe the lady is being kept in this corridor.”

“How have you been able to track this court?” he asks in his lowest tone as he follows, unable to contain his curiosity. In his beast form, he could scent Lady Cybele, but he and Helion had agreed to remain in their High Fae forms, for any subtler magic and diplomacy required. Yet Helion walks down the dark hallway without a sound, without so much as a sideways glance to confirm that he’s moving in the correct direction. Perhaps all these years later, he is still besotted with Cybele. Perhaps he thinks this will be a romantic rescue.

“They call me Spellcleaver with good reason.”

The door opens before Helion touches it, and at first Tamlin thinks that the High Lord of Day has opened it with his magic, one more flourish, but Helion whips his head toward him, his braids flying with the motion.

Inside the room, the Lady of Autumn sits on a plush armchair surrounded by a hundred threads of fire, caging her so that she cannot make the smallest movement.

“Come to find your lover?”

The voice is a cruel distortion of Lucien’s, and in a flash, Tamlin’s sword is at Ealars’ throat.

“I wish I was surprised to see you make your mother a prisoner in her own court,” he says, debating whether to take off Ealars’ head or merely incapacitate him. Meanwhile, Helion works frantically at the spells that control the cage.

The room fills with heat, diffusing from the flaming chains. The glow illuminates Ealars’ grin.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give them up,” Ealars says, and then the magic surrounds Tamlin, that spiky potent power that does not belong in this world. Not wholly Autumn Court magic, but Koschei’s, too, multiplying Ealars’ power so that it rivals a High Lord’s.

Tamlin slams his shield in place, covering Helion and Cybele. His sword clangs to the ground, thrown by the force of his own magic. Tamlin reaches for the sword he’d strapped across his back, palms a dagger in his other hand.

“He was trying to bind you,” Helion says, his fingers working around the bindings as if he’s trying to assess their width and tension.

“And here I thought you would need to concentrate on your task.” Tamlin doesn’t want to think about the implications of being bound by Koschei’s magic.

“I’ve reached the level of brilliance which allows for multitasking.” And, perfectly timed with his self-praise, Helion reaches into the strings of fire and bends them. There’s no hint of pain on his face, no arrogance in his gaze that’s focused only on Cybele’s pale face, only a recognition, as if to say finally. Her russet eyes are bright as she looks up at him. Tamlin has always known the Lady of Autumn to be shy and retreating, but there’s no hesitation in her bold look, only certainty, a claiming.

Once the flames have parted enough to allow the movement, Helion rests his thumb on her cheek, studies her face as if he means to memorize each feature. Though the caging spell still partially binds her, neither of them makes the slightest motion apart from the other.

Tamlin is about to clear his throat, remind them that they are in the middle of a battle, when the room goes dark and a new power batters his shield.

“Trust Rhys to make a grand entrance,” Helion says without so much as raising his eyes, only lifting the chains of fire aside like a curtain and holding out his other hand for Cybele to step through.

The High Lord of Night had been tasked with offering the remaining Vanserra brothers the opportunity for retreat, or ending their lives. Apparently he’d made quick work of the rest of Lucien’s family.

Outside the shield, the mixture of fire and Koschei’s magic battle the dark expanse of Rhysand’s power and for once, Rhysand isn’t the clear victor. Koschei’s power seems to eat away at his magic, absorbing it to grow stronger.

“Can you get yourself out of here?” he asks Helion, who has joined in the analysis of the skirmish outside their shield, the Lady of Autumn tucked in to his side. “There’s something wrong with this magic.”

“This isn’t Ealars’ power,'' Cybele says, her voice hoarse from disuse or abuse or some awful combination. “It was the price of his allegiance.”

“Did all of your sons ally with Koschei?” Tamlin asks, watching Helion wince at the oversight but waiting, one eye on Rhys, for Cybele’s response.

“The three in this keep. The day after their father died. Koschei said it was more power than any of the High Lords possesses on their own.”

“Then we will need a stratagem to escape,” Helion says, eyeing Rhysand, whose tan face has gone pale, the darkness of his magic now translucent.

“I’m faster with a sword than Ealars.” Tamlin tries to summon belief in this statement, tries not to think of Vassa, the shell that remains of her every night. “I can hold him at bay until the rest of you escape.”

Because his mother is there, Tamlin does not say, until I kill your son, even though that is his plan. Still, Cybele goes from pale to ghostly as she realizes his unstated implications.

“And how will you get out?” Helion asks, reaching out his hand. Though Tamlin will refuse it, this offer for escape, he is grateful. That, if this is the end for him, it didn’t happen when he was useless and raging, alone in the forests of the Spring Court. That someone would want to rescue him.

He shakes his head, finds himself somehow grinning.

“People tend to run from the beast. Just get her out, Helion.”

Helion nods.

Tamlin drops the shield. Instantly, Cybele and Helion vanish, and Koschei’s power spears toward Tamlin.

He dodges the blow and runs with his sword instead of his magic, throwing up a small shield as he runs toward Ealars. Lately he has found success in a stealthy approach but now he roars out his battle cry, so that, for just a second, the fire mixed with otherworldly magic wanes, and Rhys’ magic rises in the room.

Within seconds, night is a slender cord around Ealars’ neck.

Tamlin vaults toward the gasping male, trying to dodge the bolts of spiky magic that Ealars flings around the room. He is so close, he needs only to take one more step.

He hardly has time to see or hear the magic, let alone react, when his left side explodes with pain, as if his own flesh is consuming itself.

Still, Tamlin digs in deep to all his warrior’s training. He reaches out with his sword, one heaving slash of the blade and then another, until there is a thump and the room descends into a ringing silence.

Strange, that he cannot see Ealars fall. That the head that fell from his body already seems a long-past memory, the blood trailing his neck, his face frozen in an expression of horror, Ealars’ last look at the world. It all goes gray and distant.

There is only the pain in his side, but even that pain has receded now, a scream in the distance.

He opens his eyes and Rhysand stands over him, and even in the haze of ringing gray ache, Tamlin knows that Rhys’ smile is forced.

“Elain is going to kill me if you don’t survive this,” he says, and then, for Tamlin at least, the world goes empty, dark, and roaring.

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Ch. 70-76

I guess anything I say here is a spoiler, so yeah, this is “Heart of Dreams”, “Relics”, “Heart of Iron”, and the arc “Finest Hour”.  Oh, and “Lunatic Dawn”.   Gotta lotta ground to cover.    Treacherous ground.

Not a whole lot to say about Anderson’s death.  He tried to become a monster using one of the Holy Nails from the True Cross, and then Alucard defeated him anyway, once Seras gave him a little help and a reason to go on living.   Alucard was pretty upset about Anderson’s demise, but Anderson says a few soothing words, and reminds him that Al only became a vampire because he couldn’t stand being a human, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense for him to cry now.  

So yeah, as determined as Anderson was to kill Alucard, he’s a pretty good sport about losing this fight, and he seems to genuinely pity the man.   He wonders how long Alucard will go on living with his regrets, and Al replies “Until my expansive future shatters my expansive past.”  So, if we want to take that literally, I guess he’s trying to find redemption by being a good guy to make up for his years as a bad guy.   Well, he’s been a vampire for 523 years, and a servant of Hellsing for 101 of those years, so I guess maybe he figures if he trucks along for another 321 years that’d balance the scales?  

And maybe I’m finally starting to appreciate some of the complexities of Alucard’s character.   The Team Four Star Abridged series spent some time on his desire for redemption, but I couldn’t tell if it was based on the original material or something they came up with for their own version.   For instance, the Abridged!Alucard rejected the forgiveness offered by God himself, but later Anderson spoke of his desire for redemption and Alucard didn’t dispute that.    It seemed contradictory to me at the time, but the manga does seem to support that.    As Vlad Tepes, he refused to ask God for anything, preferring instead to fight and drive himself and his followers to the limits of endurance and decency as proof of their faith.   

I find that idea heretical, because it suggests that a person can “earn” God’s favor, or God’s forgiveness, or a place in heaven.    Arguably, Anderson tried to do the same thing, but I think he was coming more from a place of doing zealous deeds out of gratitude for the Lord’s grace, rather than trying to earn anything he didn’t already have.  

The difference with Alucard is that he seemed to be really wrongheaded about his faith, trying to use violence to become a good person.   Then it didn’t work, and he became a vampire, devoted entirely to his own selfish desires, and I guess he’s spent the 20th Century realizing that he’s back where he started, trying to fight his way to redemption, only now he has centuries of red in his ledger instead of mere decades.   

Oh, anyway, while this is going on, Integra takes a sword and stands it upright so it looks like a cross to mark Anderson’s death.   It’s like this quiet sign of respect.   I’m not sure whose sword that is, but it looks like the one Alucard was using in his Dracula persona.   

Anyway, fuck all that, because Walter finally shows up and stomps the ashes of Anderson just as everyone was having their final farewell with the guy.  Rude.

Young Walter just looks kind of stupid to me.  Why is he still wearing the monocle?  He’s trying to be 14 and 69 at the same time and failing at both.

Seras asks what Millennium did to him, but Walter makes it clear that this isn’t some brainwashing trope.   He’s doing this of his own free will.

He also doesn’t consider himself loyal to Millennium.    They turned him into a vampire, but he’s doing this for himself, and he’s only cooperating with them because their goals are in alignment.  

Yumiko Takagi tries to kill Walter for... Was she mad at him for stomping on Anderson’s remains?    I mean, Alucard’s the one who actually killed Anderson, so shouldn’t she be mad at that guy? 

It doesn’t matter, because Walt just slices her into pieces with his magic filaments.    Now Heinkel Wolfe wants revenge, because she was her long-time partner in assassin stuff.   The TFS Abridged series implied that they were lovers, too, which seemed authentic at the time, but I’m not sure there’s any confirmation to be found in the manga itself. 

But before she can take the shot, the Captain shows up and shoots Heinkel in the face.    Like, through one cheek  and out the other, and the only thing saving her from serious injury was that she happened to have her mouth open at the time.  

Side note: I caught myself referring to Heinkel as “him”, which frustrates me because I’ve known she was a woman for like five years now.    When I first watched the OVA, I was confused, becuase I could tell it was a female voice actor, but maybe that just meant he was really young, like with Schrodinger.   But the Hellsing Wiki set me straight, or so I thought.    I didn’t think I’d still be making this mistake. 

On the other hand, Yumiko sometimes looks a lot like Goemon from Lupin III, so her wearing a nun’s habit isn’t as heteronormative as it might seem.  I’m getting off-track.

You’d think this would be leading up to some big double-team on the Hellsing group, now that the Iscariots are out of the picture, but the Captain’s only stopping Heinkel so Walter can have a clear shot at Alucard.    That’s the sole reason Walter turned traitor, you see.   He wants to fight Alucard and win, and for the last 55 years they’ve been on the same side.  

But is that all it is?   I never got to read or watch “Hellsing: The Dawn”, the prequel manga Kouta Hirano created after Hellsing.  I’ve heard that it never got finished, but also an anime adaptation was released with the home video release of Hellsing Ultimate Episode VIII.  All I really know about it was that there was this time where Alucard and Walter were fighting the Nazis, and the Captain showed up, and Alucard ran away because he didn’t think he could beat that dude. Presumably, he left Walter to fend for himself?   But all three of them survived until 1999, so I’m not sure what the outcome of that was.   I always wondered if Walter held a grudge over that.   But maybe I’m reaching. 

There’s also a suggestion of professional jealousy.  Walter was a rockstar vampire hunter in his youth, but he’s been overshadowed by Alucard, who is--let’s face it-- a living legend.  This would be doubly true in the 90′s, when Integra reawakened Alucard, and Walter having to step back even further from the spotlight.  The only way for him to reclaim his former glory would be to challenge the greatest of all vampires and win.    He’d go down in history as a traitor, but at least he’d be cemented as the absolute best.  

Or... or, you can go with the TFS version, where Walter hints at his motives, only for Alucard to take the wind out of his sails and announce “because you wanna fuck me!”   And I love that theory more than any other explanation, because it just brings everything together a lot more neatly.   I guess you don’t need Walter to have had a crush on Alucard for 55 years, but it’s a lot more compelling than revenge or professional jealousy.    Those things have weight, sure, but they work better as distractions, the things Walter might admit to because they hide the deeper reason that he can’t bring himself to say out loud.   

And it’s not entirely rejected by the manga.  Alucard remarks on how much more beautiful Walter looked in his old age, compared to this treasonous knockoff vampire look he’s sporting now.   The last time he spoke this way, it was when he flirted with Queen Elizabeth II.   The next time he does it, it’ll be with Sir Integra when she’s in her early 50′s.

Speaking of QE2, she’s safe and sound, because the Secret Service evacuated her to a fortified location in Dover before Millennium attacked.   If things get really hairy, they’re prepared to send her to Canada, and if London can’t be secured, they’ll nuke the whole city, though the Queen is certain that Integra and Alucard will win the day.  The vampires acting as Millennium agents outside of London are being contained and destroyed, so things seem to be getting under some semblance of control.  

However, the Royal Order of Protestant Knights, also known as the “Round Table” is down to just three surviving members.   Integra’s in London, but here we have Rob Walsh and Hugh Irons, reflecting on the death of their fellow Round Tabler, Penwood.  

This whole scene struck me as a complete non sequitur when I first saw it in the anime.  Walter’s betrayal seemed to sudden and poorly explained that it felt like the author was just winging it by this point, and now we have these two dudes struggling to provide some justification for the twist.    But reading this manga in 2021, I find that it makes a lot more sense.    We’ve already seen tons of Britons in rather lofty positions, all willing to sell out their principles for a chance to become a vampire.   Walter is no different from any of them.   It’s just more personal when he does it because we actually know the guy.  

But as Walsh discusses the utter debacle of this Millennium invasion, he deduces what we’ve just learned back in London.   There must have been a traitor in their ranks, because that’s the only way Millennium could have made it this far.   I mean, they just flew a bunch of giant blimps full of rockets right into British airspace.   That only worked because they had traitors sabotaging the U.K.’s defenses and communications, and Hellsing was especially vulnerable at the same time.  

The only thing Walsh can’t figure out is who the traitor was, since it had to be someone at the Round Table, but they’re all dead now, except for Integra, Irons, and himself. 

But Irons fills in the missing pieces.   It doesn’t have to have been one of the Round Table’s members, but someone close to one of the members.   Years ago, Irons warned Walter about Richard Hellsing.   Irons knew that when Arthur died, Richard would try to make a play for the Hellsing estate.   But when Irons’ fears came to pass, Walter wasn’t there.   It’s like he wanted things to play out the way they did.  

But why would Walter want events to play out that way?   On her own, Integra had no choice but to unseal Alucard to defend herself, and she’s kept Alucard active ever since.   And now, lo and behold, Walter reveals that he turned traitor just so he could take on Alucard.   It’s like he arranged for all of this to happen years in advance.   But how many years?    Fifty-five, Irons wonders.   

It’s never explicitly confirmed, but Irons’ reasoning makes too much sense to ignore.    Earlier, the Major said that he decided back in ‘44 that Walter “Angel of Death” Dornez would have been a good “get” for his side.    Now, Irons is suggesting that Walter might have agreed in the same year.   So maybe Walter and the Major made a secret agreement even then.   It’s possible that they might have done it later, but why not in 1944?

I mean, the whole backstory here is that Millennium is a continuation of a secret Nazi Vampire project that Walter and Alucard destroyed in 1944.   Except they didn’t destroy it at all, which sure makes Walter and Al seem very bad at their jobs, unless Walter let them escape and covered it up.

Meanwhile, the Captain tosses a first aid kit to Heinkel, kind of like he’s saying that he doesn’t want to kill Heinkel, but he can’t let her interfere either.   We’ll talk about the Captain later.

As for Alucard vs. Walter, Al wants to check with Integra before he goes through with it.   He asks for orders, repeating his big speech from when he killed all those cops in Brazil.    Yeah, Walter’s a traitor, but he’s been a close mentor and advisor to Integra for all these years.   Does she really want Alucard to killerize his ass?

Yes, she does.   If Walter stands against them, then he’s the enemy, and Integra has already ordered Alucard to destroy the enemy, no matter who (snif!) they may be.  Integra doesn’t relish this command, but she refuses to compromise over sentimental feelings.

Man, fuck you, Walter.  

Then the Major lands his airship near the battlefield and invites Integra to come aboard and fight all of his remaining guys.    Alucard orders Seras to join her while he deals with Walter.   I can appreciate Seras’ concern here, because the last time she watched Alucard fight alone, he took a flaming bayonet to the face.   She probably doesn’t care for Integra and Alucard splitting up like this.

Before she goes, she thanks Walter for all of his support, which disarms Walter for just a moment.   Man, fuck you, Walter.   Seras is so nice and grateful and polite and cool and you just go right ahead with your 55-years-in-the-making Nazi Vampire Jilted Lover scheme.  Fuck you, Walter.   You don’t deserve to be in Seras’ life.

So the gals go on board the airship and Schrodinger’s there and Integra just shoots him right between the eyes without bothering to slow down.    This is maybe my favorite Integra moment in this thing.    I sort of wish Kouta Hirano had done a spin-off of Integra and Seras doing cool shit like this for 30 years.

Alucard taunts Walter with the fact that he no longer gets to be a part of Inegra or Seras’ lives anymore.   It sounds kind of petty, but when you think about it, it’s a pretty sick burn.    Walter may have been planning this for 55 years, but he still had to live that double life, and it’s not like he can just say he was faking it the entire time.  

So they fight.   Walter’s magic wire powers seem to be amplified, either because of his restored youth or maybe the boost offered by vampire powers, or maybe he’s always been this strong but now he no longer needs to hold back anymore.  For instance, he can make mesh screens with his wires to deflect Alucard’s bullets.   And when Alucard summons that dog creature he used to dispatch Luke Valentine....

... Walter just bisects it with a flick of the wrist.   You really begin to see why he was “The Angel of Death” back in his heyday.  

I never understood what this dog familiar was supposed to be.   Walter refers to the Hound of the Baskervilles, but as far as I know that’s just a legend confined to the Sherlock Holmes novel of the same name.   But apparently that concept was based upon “black dog” folklore of the same region.  There’s a whole laundry list of “black dog” apparitions in Britain alone.   Black Shuck, Padfoot, Hairy Jack, Bizarro Snoopy, and so on.   So I’m not sure if Hirano is saying that Alucard was the source of these legends, or if they were all based on a single creature which Alucard eventually defeated and absorbed into himself.   

Al tries to use the Jackal to kill Walter, but that’s kind of stupid, since Walter designed the gun in the first place.   In the anime, I thought Walter somehow triggered a bomb he had planted inside it, but maybe he used his wires to make this happen.   It doesn’t really matter, because we already saw that the Casull was useless against Walter’s defenses, and not because it had smaller ammunition.  

Then Luke Valentine emerges from the black dog’s body.   This part never made any sense to me, but I loved how the Major recognized him, but barely.  “Oh yeah, it’s that guy from Volume 2!    The guy with the brother.”

The doctor suggests that when the dog was killed, this allowed Luke to reassert himself from inside the dog.   Something about a “control ratio”, whatever that is.  Like, he was absorbed into the dog’s mass, but now that the dog is no longer conscious, he can think for himself again.    Notably, only half of Luke actually makes it out .   It’s like he’s half-Luke, half dead dog monster. 

But before he can do anything else, Walter puts his wires into Luke and starts controlling him like a puppet, mostly so he can use the dog half to attack Alucard.

Alucard seems more impressed than threatened.   Keep in mind, Walter was doing pretty damn well against him early on.   You’ll notice Alucard’s missing his right arm along with one of his guns.   This is better than Anderson managed to do.   So why does Walter even need this Luke-dog puppet thing in the first place?

Well, it’s because Walter’s body is giving out on him.   Earlier, when the Doctor was performing the procedure to turn Walter into a vampire, he spoke about how rushed the operation was.  I mean, he had to finish the whole thing in one night, after all.   And Walter’s a lot more powerful than Dandyman, whom the Doctor considered his finest artificial vampire work.    So maybe Walter’s just too powerful for this, and he can’t sustain this form.   The Luke-dog-thing is just to keep Alucard busy while he coughs up blood.

The Major sees this development, and likens Walter to a high stakes gambler who’s mortgaged everything for a single hand at a high stakes table.   Walter’s risked everything just to tangle with Alucard, and it still isn’t enough.

Alucard does manage to finish off the dog-Luke thing, and this sets him up for Walter’s next attack, and then he goes to finish him off, so things seem to be going Walter’s way...

But Alucard used a decoy, disguising Luke’s severed torso as his own, all so he could sucker-punch Walter in the face.   As it turns out, Walter’s physical breakdown is making him younger, which amuses Al to no end.

So Alucard follow suits and assumes the form he once used when they fought the Nazis in 1944.   Yeah, say hello to “Girlycard”.   I’m not sure why Alucard looked like a 14-year-old girl during World War II.   I’ve heard this form described as a Japanese 14-year-old girl, and I can’t dispute it, but it also makes Girlycard seem even more random somehow.   

I mean, I guess the idea here was for Walter and Alucard to be able to move inconspicuously through enemy territory.  No one would suspect a couple of kids until it was too late.   I’m imagining a similar scenario to the ones presented in “Cross Fire”.   Heinkel and Yumi would play innocent bystanders, then whip out their guns and swords and go ham on the bad guys.    Knowing Hirano’s style, maybe Girlycard and Young Walter operated the same way.  

And this further supports the Walter-had-an-unrequited-crush-on-Alucard theory.   He might have understood that Girlycard was a disguise.  On an intellectual level he might have known, but maybe he still carried a torch, and told himself that there was some way that they could be together.   Was he just in love with this disguise, or does he love the real thing?  Alucard says that he told Walter the truth decades ago, and claims that this is the reason Walter turned traitor, so yeah, it sure feels like Walter couldn’t handle Alucard’s true nature, one way or another.   

I mean, let’s assume that this isn’t just about Alucard not being a cute girl.  Maybe Walter fell in love with Alucard in all his forms, whatever that means for his sexuality.    The bigger issue is that Alucard’s a vampire, and he’s just fundamentally different from Walter, and maybe that was the problem all along.   It’s interesting to think about, but the point here would be that there was some kind of problem, and Walter couldn’t let it go.

Meanwhile, Seras and Integra are busy looking like total BMFs.   Just HBIC’s.   What’s better than this?   Two gals bein’ pals.   

Hell yeah!

Bad ass!

The vampires on board this airship are happy to meet their doom, and Integra recalls what her father once told her about how vampires want to die on their own terms.   Seras doesn’t get it, because if they want to die so badly, they could have just died in the war they were already in fifty-odd years ago.  

So the Major gets on the PA system and explains to her that they want more than just a glorious death.   They want bigger, better, more perfect battlefield, so as to make their deaths as meaningful as possible.  That’s why I don’t understand that airship captain from a while back.   Everyone else in Millennium seemed to understand that they weren’t necessarily fighting to win.   Britain is prepared to nuke London if they have to, so it’s hard to imagine anyone in Millennium surviving past today, even if they won.  

Anyway, as the Major explains all of this, the Captain appears before the gals.  It looks like he’s here to stop them, or is he?

[maybebanks]

Secrets Bring Us Together

JJ maybank x reader

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you whisper to John B.

You had came to his house in the middle of the night. Begging to stay after a fight with your father on your ‘dirty’ company as friends. He wasn’t a fan of the pogues, but they were a light in your life.

“No problem, you want to tell me what happened?” John B asks, eating a slice of bread.

“At home...” you say, trailing off, holding in some tears.

“Your dad?” He asked solemnly, you only answered with a nod. He didn’t have a dad, but honestly there was a part of you that wanted to be in his position.

“You can stay here for 2 days,” he says, tapping your shoulder gently as he passed you.

Your throat goes dry, “Uh-wait, actually...I was hoping to stay a little longer?” you mumble, settling into the couch.

He looks confused, “why?”

“I can..pay rent? Or-please I’ll do anything, I just can’t go home right now,” you plead.

He furrows his eyebrows.

You shuffle through your bag and pull out your wallet, then hand him 2 20s and a 50 dollar bill.

“Here,” you say eagerly, his eyes widen.

“Alright it’s cool, you can stay,” he laughs, “but I’m not taking your money, that’s not how we pogues do it,”

—

You woke up early to make breakfast. John B was still asleep so you started to get undressed.

Suddenly, the screen door swung open.

“Y/n?” I female voice asked, full of surprise.

You grabbed one of John B’s stray button ups and struggled to button it quickly.

“Where did you get all that cash?!” She asks, pointing to the dollar bills spilling out of your bag.

You shake your head, “nothing just forget it.” You has taken a lot of money because you didn’t know how long you would be away from home.

“Did you rob a kook or some-“ Kie starts but you cut her off.

“Please...just don’t tell anyone. Okay? I promise it’s nothing to worry about,” you reason.

She eyes you suspiciously, “I promise,” she mutters.

“Thanks! Your the best,” you say, starting to cook some scrambled eggs.

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask her.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says, sitting down. Picking up a bag of your stuff from under the table.

“You’re not staying here...are you?” She asked.

“No,” you lie quickly, “I just brought over some clothes to change into after the boat today. If they get muddy or something,”

“Okay,” Kie responds.

John B walks out of his room. “Morning guys,”

“John B? Is Y/n sleeping here?” She ask, looking at you as if to express how bad of a liar you are, you roll your eyes.

John B looks at you, “Pft, no! She has her own place,”

“No secrets amongst pogues!” Kie shouts.

Before you can respond JJ and Pope walk in.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya!” JJ says cheerfully, you can’t help but smile at him.

Pope looks confused, “no secrets...what were you guys just talking about?” He questions.

“Y/n is being weird and so is John B,” Kie explains.

“Wait-you guys aren’t like, macking, are you?” JJ says holding a blunt.

“Seriously guys? It’s not a big deal!” You whine.

“Oh my god, you guys are totally-“ Pope starts.

“We are not macking,” John B states.

JJ mimics a blow job with his blunt and Pope laughs.

You quickly grab the nearest item and throw it at JJ.

“Really?” Kie says, not giving up, then explain this!” She says, pointing to your bag of clothes that could last a week.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, “can we just go surfing? I need some sun,” you say, but your nerves were tensing up.

Pope jumps up and heads towards your bag.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You exclaim as he empties a few things from your bag.

“Searching for evidence...” Pope says.

“Ugh can you not be a nerd for like a second please?” You say annoyed.

JJ gets up and joins pope.

“Guys what the fuck! Seriously, stop! Stop!” You try to reason with the curious boys.

“Guys! I think I found it! The evidence we’ve been searching for!” JJ yells excitedly and everyone raises there eyebrows in anticipation.

Your hands shake nervously.

Suddenly, JJ pulls out a white lace piece from your bag. Your bra.

Pope says, “whoa!” Sarcastically.

And Kie rolls her eyes.

“JJ put that down,” you demand.

“Nah, I think I’m going to try it on, see if it looks as sexy on me as it does on you?” He says raising one eyebrow.

“No, don’t! You’ll stretch it out,” you say, no doubt in your mind that he will actually put on your bra.

He dangles it above your head and you swipe for it, “JJ!” You shout jumping for it. He was taller than you, and your chest brushed up against his every time you jumped up to reach his arms holding it up high.

Finally he lets you have it, laughing at your frustration. You return it to its rightful place, in your bag.

Pope mutters, “aww man!” When the fun ends.

“Sorry Pope, I know it was your first time seeing a bra in all, but I wanna go surf,” you say patting his head and signaling everyone to head out.

Jj and John B laugh at your comment. But Kie, still worried, finally gets up and joins y’all.

—

After a long day of laughing and surfing you all make it back to John B’s place for a movie.

After you all have settled down on the porch, JJ starts up a conversation.

“Guys, I think we should all just dip,” JJ says disappointedly.

“What?” You ask, you knew he was in trouble with the police, and maybe his dad, but it was nothing he hadn’t handled before.

“JJ what about the gol-“Kie starts.

“We lost the G-game, Kie! I don’t even know if things are going to work, I owe 25K as my restitution,” JJ reveals.

Everyone is in shock.

“25 K? Holy shit man,” Pope says.

“We haven’t lost the gold game, we just have to-“ you start, trying to get John B to support you, but Kie shuts you down.

“I know it’s easy for you to be all hopeful with the cushion you have, but not everyone can afford to waste their time,” Kie says sourly, she had a feeling you could help JJ but you were lying about something.

“Cushioning? What the hell are you talking about?!” You say back angerly, you had faith in the gold hunt, what was wrong with that?

“Don’t play dumb!” She demands, giving you a look like she wants to slap your face.

“Whoa, Kie. Calm down, she’s just trying to-“ Jj starts but she continues.

“Your keeping so many secrets! I can tell because I’m not an idiot like all the boys you have fooled. Admit it! You’ve been staying with John B!” Kie starts.

“What are you jealous? God Kie, I’m not sleeping with John B!” You shout.

“Why don’t you just go back to your own fucking house!” She says, in response your face blushes red and you look down at your feet, and away from Kie’s burning words.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to, or seen your house? Is there a reason for that...or are you just obsessed with keeping everything a secret,” Kie begins, standing up.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“I wonder why?” She tries again.

“Shut up! Why are you trying to start something?!” You ask.

“Because your a liar! And I’m not friends with liars.”

“Kie just leave her alone,” John B says, but Kie didn’t listen.

“How did you get all that cash? You know how would be a good time to mention it, since JJ has 25K to pay,” Kie says, cornering you.

“Cash? What is she talking about,” JJ asks you.

You sigh, defeated, “Fine! If you want to hear me say it, then I’ll say it. I live a house in figure eight, but that doesn’t mean-“

“Your a kook?” a few of them say in unison. Even Kie was shocked.

“No! Guys, come on you know me! I surf, I don’t care about golf or clothes, money matters to me, I fish, the Cut is my home-“

“I can’t believe you were a kook this whole time,” Pope says sadly.

“Guys-“

“Liar...” Kiara mutters.

“You can’t-“ you stifle, your breathing was becoming difficult, was this the moment when your friends turned on you.

“Probably paid for surf lessons,”

That stung your heart, you loved surfing because the waves were an escape, the talent you had at it was all you.

You looked at everyone, they were mad, sad, even disgusted.

“You can’t be serious... wh-what you hate me now? Because I’m a kook?!” You ask your voice shaking, you lied, and they hated you now.

John B gets up and walks inside.

A few tears left your eyes, “please,” you say.

“You lies to us! Pogue life? You weren’t even a pogue! What are we to you then? A way to rebel against your parents? I’m done y/n,” Kie says.

“No, no you guys are my friends,” you say, letting a few more years fall.

“Pope?” You ask, he was looking at the ground.

“All those times we all had jobs to do, where we worked for the food on our table! Where were you?!” Pope asks, hurt.

All your friends hate you, “JJ? You ask slowly.

“She was helping us,” he pauses.

“W-What?” You ask.

“When we had our jobs...she was helping us,” JJ doesn’t make eye contact with you.

John B returns, “here,” he says, throwing you your bag of stuff.

“No,” you whimper, “guys it’s still me, Y/n!” You try and reason.

“You’re not just a kook, you’re a liar,” Kie says standing up and approaching the door.

JJ puts his hand on Kiaras shoulder and stopped her from leaving.

“Why do you think she lied, huh?” JJ breaks the silence.

Everyone looks at him, “Because we would react like this! Look at us, y/n has done nothing but been a good friend to all of us. Pope, she always helped deliver groceries. John B, she never once doubted your dad or the g-game. And Kie, she spent days teaching you how to surf, and protesting ocean plastic! And to me, she’s comforted me about my dad even when I pushed her away. God, I love her. I don’t care if she’s a kook, guys it’s just a name. She’s been a better friend than a kook. And you all love her too,” JJ says, angry at his friends for being so petty.

Kie looks at you crying quietly, “I’m an idiot,” she breathed, then she stands up and hugs you. You hug her back. John B joins next, muttering that he’s sorry, Pope joins. And after a few seconds you all pull out.

“Guys, I was never doing this to spite my parents or any of the kooks. You guys are literally the best friends I’ve ever had. I can’t loose you all,” you explain.

“Sorry we were so dumb,” Pope says, “well except jj,” he says, “that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say,”

You turn to JJ, he looks at you with a sweet smile, he basically saved you, with love you run up to him and jump into his arms, he supports your back, hugging you tight.

“I love you, JJ,” you whisper in his ear. He pulls out to see your face, within seconds, he presses his lips against yours, you moving yours along with him, accepting his kiss.

[avatarconner]

My Invincible Hero

(Just a experiment to see if these two properties work together for a crossover.)

The new dorms at U.A. Heights were a real change of pace for Mako, he had moved to Japan when he was so young that he barely remembered what it was like back in America. And they had always lived in their house since moving here that living at a dorm was.....ironically, alien to him. Not that it wasn’t bad or anything! Class 1A living together under one roof was, as he expected a blast, case in point the first night they all showed off their own rooms. 

Still can’t believe Izuku still has all that All Might Merch......well not like I’m one to talk. he thought, leaning out from his desk chair to look at the bookshelf beside his door containing his massive comic book collection. His room was, in his eyes, very comfortable, he and his mom found a nice table set with comfortable cushions to sit down on that easily slid under his bed. Though he didn’t have a mini kitchen setup like Sato, no wonder he won their little room coemption.

Thank god we didn’t look in Mineta’s room.....uggghhhh. he thought with a sour expression. Looking over his completed homework, he stood up from his desk and looked outside the balcony window to his room. It was turning to dusk now but for Mako it might have well have been afternoon, he could easily towards the west until it was afternoon over in America if he wanted. 

Looking over at his door, he saw his costume hanging up on a hook, the black, yellow, and blue costume hung up on a hook with his mask also looped around it, his gloves and boots were kicked off to the side after a long day doing some work for the GDA. After his dad.......left.....someone needed to fill in for him, and bypassing a hero license with Global Defense Agency’s license was easy for someone like the head of the organization. But it was nice to get back to school life for a few days.

Before the hero licensing exams that is, I’m still not sure why I need to take it considering I’ve been doing that sort of work for little over a year now. he thought as he walked out of his room. Just in time to see Kaminari rush by, “Hey man, what’s up?” he asked the electric user as he lifted up off the ground a few inches and floated after him.

“Oh! Hey Mako! You wouldn’t happen to have some popcorn would you?” he asked. 

“Uhhh.....no? Why?” he asked in confusion as they stopped in front of the elevator.

The static user gave him a look, “Dude it’s movie night!” he reminded the fellow student. Mako wanted to kick himself, it was Friday night, of course it was movie night!! He was the one who suggested it in the first place! And it was also his turn to pick a movie!!! “Crap! Sorry, right. Yeah, um....no, don’t have any. But I’m gonna fly out, I can pick some up while I’m out.” he offered.

The spikey haired blonde clapped his hands together and bowed his head in thanks, “Your a lifesaver man!” he said, turning back the way he came as the doors to the elevator opened and Izuku walked and smiled to him in greeting. 

“Hey Mako, I was about to do some training real quick, want to join me?” he offered.

When Izuku’s quirk finally kicked in, Mako was probably up there with his friend with how excited he was for him. It took a while....and some broken bones, before he could actually train with Mako, but as soon as he could he was more then happy to. “Sorry, I gotta fly home, grab a movie and some popcorn for movie night. I totally forgot it was my turn this week.” he admitted.

The green haired inheritor have him a understanding look, “It’s ok, we can some other time.” he said acceptingly, making Mako let out a breath. “Um....are you ok?” he asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah just......the whole move here kinda screwed with my whole.....thing. That make sense?” he asked as they both entered the elevator. 

Midoriya nodded in understanding, out of all of their class, Mako was probably the most busy outside of school. “Well, if you need any help, you know that I’m ready to help!” he said with a smile of encouragement. Mako flashed him one back, whenever his role as Invincible interfered with his schoolwork, Izuku had been there to help him out.

“Thanks man. Any recommendations for movies?” he asked as the doors opened to the lobby area and the two friends walked out through the lobby. While not exactly a rule, it was recommended that a couple movies be presented as possibilities, so that way they had multiple options in case it was voted down. This was mainly due to Mineta wanting to recommend a movie that was most likely a skin flick from the title. 

Izuku rubbed the back of his head unsurely, “Hmm, I don’t know....maybe a mystery movie?” he suggested. 

Mako shrugged as they walked towards the doors of the dorm, as Izuku walked off towards the lawn to start training, Mako walked down the path towards the school for a few feet before courching down and launching himself into the air, flying a good ten stories up before adjusting his course and flying towards home.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After swinging by home, saying hi to his mom and grabbing some movies that he and his dad used to watch. Mako swung by a convience store to get some popcorn before flying back to U.A. 

Wind blowing through his hair, he coasted through the sky as he let his momentum carry him. Contrary to what most people thought for people who flew without the use of some mutant type quirk, flying could tire you out, something Mako had learned early on when his powers started manifesting. If h wanted to he could be back to the school within a minute but decided to take his time and just relax.

That lasted for about then seconds before he heard a scream down from the ground.

Looking down he saw a gigantic man chase after a more norml sized one down the street, the giant man was three times the size of a normal person with viens all over his arms, chest, and neck popping out. Reminds me of guy Izuku fought at the training camp. he thought as he flew down towards the steeet, tossing his bag onto a rooftop before landing in font of the man, “Alright buddy what’s-” he started before the man’s arm reeled back.

“Uh pal I woudln’t-!” he started before he swung his arm and punched the side of Mako’s face with a loud crack.

It wasn’t from Mako.

“GAHHH!!!” The villain shouted as he clutched his now broken hand. 

“Dude I tried telling you.” Mako replied, “Look I don’t know why your chasing that guy but I can’t let you hurt him.” he said as the large man held his hand.

“Why are you after me! That guy robbed my store!!” he explained. Mako turned down the street and saw the man, who mark noticed had a duffle bag in his hand, was running across a four lane intersection. 

“Oh crap! Hang on.” he said before zooming over across the ground, grabbing the man by the bck of his shirt and flying back over to the muscle man. 

“Hey! Let me go!” the smaller man shouted, he looked a little older then Mako, maybe his early twenties at most. 

The muscular bald man pointed at him, “You stole from my safe you little punk! I oughta-” he started as he raised his unbroken hand. 

Mako pulled him back, and raised a hand to try and calm him down, “Woah, woah, let’s calm down a second. Have you called the police?” he asked. The man nodded, “Ok then we can just wait for them to arrive to sort this mess out.” he reasoned. The man took a deep breath before raising his hands, “Why’d you punch me by the way?” he asked.

“Well I thought you were with him, I mean your around the same age so I thought you were his partner or something.” he explained.

Mako nodded in understanding, he could see ho he came to that conclusion. 

“Hey you better let me go! I’ll report you for using your quirk illegally!!” The thief threatened.

“Dude I’m a hero.” Mako replied bluntly.

“What?! No your not! Your a normal guy!” he replied.

“I left my costume at my dorm, what do you think I wear it every time I go out? It’s not comfortable wearing something under normal clothes.” he replied before hearing a siren pull around the corner. After the patrolmen arrived, Mako showed them both his license and they promptly arrested the thief, as they put him in the back of the cruiser, Mako flew up to the roof where he tossed his bag before shooting across the sky back to U.A.

 As he flew over the wall surrounding U.A. he started his decent when he noticed someone sitting down on one of the path benches. She had long blonde hair that went down her back and a pair of glasses over her light blue eyes that were looking down at the ground. She wore a coverall that was the same shade as her eyes with her name across the left lapel, Melissa Shield, the newest student of U.A.

“Hey!” he called out, she looked up in surprised and smiled as he flew down from the sky. Touching down gently on the ground, he smiled at her.

“Hey Mako, nice to see you again.” she greeted welcomingly, however he noticed the dour tone her voice had.

Melissa had begun attending U.A. after the I-Island incident, her old school was sad to see her go, but the blonde girl felt that U.A. was a good change after what happened with her father. She had met Mako and the others at the I-Island Expo, she started attending U.A. after All Might pushed for her to get a role in the support course, since her father was currently.....indisposed, All Might was her legal Guardian. 

“You......doing ok?” he asked politely.

The american girl let out a sigh, “I’m.....managing.” he admitted. He gesuted to the seat beside her on the bench and she nodded.

“Well, if you want to rant or just talk, I’m here.” he offered jokingly.

She giggled at his offer, “No, it’s not that. Everyone here has been really welcoming to me. It’s just......a lot.” she admitted. “Moving from America to here was......well I know everyone is still adjusting to the dorms, but it’s.....well it’s a little more challenging then I thought it would be.” she told him.

Mako frowned, he had been thrown off balance by moving here but it was just a matter of time until he recovered. Melissa though, she had to move halfway across the world to be here, and that was after her father turned her world upside down. Man and here I am saying how rough I have it. My mom is just a short flight away. he thought scoldingly to himself. 

“Yeah.....look, you know that all of us in Class 1A are here for you right? If you ever want to talk or something....” he offered, knowing that she got along well with all of the classmates she met at the I-Island expo. 

The turned to him and gave him a confident smile, “Oh I know! It’s just....I don’t want to be a burden to anyone else by having them listen to my problems.” she explained.

He smiled, he could understood that. With all the crap he’s had to deal with the past year, keeping it to himself seemed like the best for a while. “Well hey, listening to problems is what a hero does. Hell earlier when I was coming back I had to listen to a couple problems before I could help.” he said, abridging the events of what happened. The blonde girl smiled softly at him, and Mako felt his stomach flutter from it.

“Thank you Mako......oh! I’m not keeping you am I?” she asked, realizing he was carrying something in his bag.

He shook his head, “Nah, we’re having a movie night and I needed to grab some flicks from my home.” he said, opening the bag and showing her the selection he picked. 

Her eyes widened in excitement as she picked one out, “Oh I know this one!” she said, showing him the Dawn of the Dead movie he picked out.

She watched his face turn somber for a second, “Yeah. Me and my dad would watch that every year on my birthday.....” he said before smiling a little at the memory. Melissa felt a pang of guilt, what her fther had done for Uncle Might had been questionable at best, everyone knew what Mako’s father ahd done had been horrifying. But it was still HIS dad, she knew that as well as anyone. “Um....do you want to join us?” he offered.

Melissa was surpised by the offer but quickly smiled, “Of course! You don’t mind?” she asked.

He shook his head, “Nah, no one will. We’re starting at 9:30, be sure to be at the dorm by then.” he said as they both got up.

Melissa smiled and nodded, “I’ll be there!” she said ecitedly as she walked away, “And....thanks for listening Mako.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Anytime.” he said before taking off into the sky and arching over to his dorm.

As he walked up to the door he felt his phone go of in his pocket. Pullig it out as he entered, he saw the caller I.D. and frowned, answering it, he flew up the stairs to his room. “Hey boss, what’s the problem.”

‘You remember the Elephant?’

Mako paused as he opened and closed the door to his room, “Uhhh.....no?” he said unsurely.

‘Big guy, dresses up like....well-’

“Oh! Oh yeah that guy, man I always forget about him.” Mako admitted as he tossed off his shirt and pants and slipped his costume on. It was mostly black with the shoulders and upper torso being covered with a light blue that curved around his pectorals and upper back but ended on a sharp end on his shoulders. on  his chest and over the blue was a yellow block that went down from his pectoals and tapered off to a point towards the navel. 

‘Yeah everyone does, anyway the transport containing him on the way to Tartarus was hit. Heroes are on the way with Endevor leading them, but I don’t want them getting away. So you go as backup.’

Mako pulled on the knee high boots that were the same blue as his costume, along with the yellow fingerless gloves. “Gotcha, is he the only one? I mean it’s the Elephant so I can’t imagine you need a full transport for him.” he explained. 

‘Yeah, you’d be right. Some new baddie who just popped up. Don’t know who he is, but we can’t ahve a loss right now after All Might retired.’

Mako grabbed his mask, a yellow head sock that had an opening for his hair around his head and coverd his eyes with white goggles. It also streched around his neck and the top of his shoulders, making a ‘i’ on the front of his costume. Opening his balcony, he cracked his neck before taking off into the air. “I read you.”

‘Thanks Mako, you sure your up for this I can call someone else if you still need some time to recover.’ 

Mako smiled to himself.

“Don’t worry Boss, you know me. I’m-”

[hippychick006]

Misha Panel 

I’ve done this summary as it helps to have what Misha actually says to hand as more often than not, his stans misquote him. It’s also useful as Misha often changes things - as he appears to have done between his last virtual panel and this one. Note, I’m only focusing on the key parts where he talks about the show/Jared/Jensen.  It is not free of anti castiel/misha comments where I disagree, though those are few and far between for a change. It’s long so putting under a cut... 

- Misha confirms his filming finished in March prior to Covid [this comes up later in more detail].  Watching the last epiosode was an emotional experience for him.  For him, it represents the end of a chapter of his life. 

- Misha says fandoms not going anywhere [*hisses]

- Misha’s future work/projects?: working on senate race in georgia, publishing a book of poetry, couple of film projects he’s trying to get off the ground, one he’s not acting/directing in, the other he may act and/or direct 

- Jack brought Cass back but we didn’t get to see it, what happened?: different ending originally that Covid restrictions made impossible to produce. Cool ending involved bringing back lots of cast members over the years.  In the original ending, Castiel hadn’t gone to rebuild heaven, there was a different conclusion for him.  Misha purposely did not read the last two episodes before they aired as he wanted to be an audience member. He knew a little about Castiel/Jack’s fate in the abstract, but because he wasn’t in it, he doesn’t know what the answer was. He thinks them rebuilding heaven was less boots on the ground and more at a spiritual level [so he’s talking at the metaphysical/spiritual plane level and not corporeal) so they are everywhere (e.g. in drops of rain as per Jack’s speech to Sam in 19). That’s what I’m understanding at least.  He says that’s pure speculation though.]

- what qualities does castiel have similar to Misha?: there are a lot of similar qualities [backstabber comes immediately to my mind tbh]. Over time he and the character melded. Over time he evolved into something that didn’t quite fit in with either angels or humanity, he felt like an outsider which Misha has felt for much of his life. He became softer, more sensitive, he tried to do the right thing and be a good person. Oh wow, he says that in order to write to play to Misha’s strengths, the character had to “morph a bit”.  I loved bad!ass Castiel, he’s my favourite Castiel!

- What one thing will he take with him from playing Castiel?: on a professional level, it was fascinating to play a character for so many years. He discussed with J2 recently that the characters really became part of them. He doesn’t think that will happen again, just due to length of time the played them. On watching Jensen’s death scene, he cried but it was more “That’s Cass’ friend Dean dying”  It was weird to have a blurring of lines between yourself and your character but he thinks that’s what happened with all of them. He’ll take the character away, which will be a part of him forever. 

- Misha made fortune cookes and put inside lewd and inappropriate fortunes

[I don’t get this next bit as earlier in the panel he says he didn’t read the last two episodes so didn’t know what was going to happen and gave the answer I documented above and now we have this next question where his answer seems to contradict that]:

- Is there anything more he can say about the originally planned finale?:  He doesn’t want to be the one to reveal these state secrets, but what are they going to do, fire him?  He feels someone might have said to him, please don’t reveal what was going to happen, but can’t remember for sure if it’s true. He says there was a version of Sam and Dean’s heaven that was populated with all of the people that were from their past that they have come to love.  They could not do that because of Covid restrictions. 

- Favourite behind the scenes memory of “The boys”: He doesn’t have a favourite memory, they were close friends for 12 years. They had laughing fits and fights and got pissed off at each other. Some of his fondest memories of being at work anywhere were working on Supernatural.  He’s never going to be on a set again where there is so much mirth so he’s going to miss that for sure.

- he’s talking about Castiel’s wardrobe which is actually funny - e.g. original suit 3 sizes to big, sometimes showing blood and holes, sometimes being magically fixed, not wearing a tie, going back to wearing a tie... “Nobody complained about that too much...” [uh because some of us were watching other things and your own stans were looking at the background.]  He stole some trenchcoats and has them in his closet.

- How do you prepare for emotional scenes?: it’s hard for him to get into that emotional state. To prepare for the Castiel’s declaration of love scene and taken by the empty, Misha needs to be off by himself and not chatting with people, so for that scene he sat on his own in a dark corner of the stage and ruminated on his own.  Rob Hayter, stunt coordinator, noticed and stood sentinel and made sure no one disturbed him which Misha said was really sweet.  Everyone stopped fucking around for that scene to allow them to do what they needed to do.

-  How did you feel when you read the script when Castiel dies?: Misha knew for a long time that ending was coming, he’d been speaking to Rob Berens about it, he was really happy with it.  It was the ending he’d wanted for Cass so when he read the script, he was really happy it had made it to the page [i bet it was Misha, how are those destiel sales going through your Stands company?]. It felt it was a little “risky and a little brave” for the show to do [on a fucking network that is number one in Glaad reviews?  Are you being fucking serious right now?] He was happy to be a part of that [again sales] and have that character express love like that so he was happy with it. 

[Okay, so notice in his last virtual panel 2 weeks ago, he was very happy, he’s now starting to do exactly what he did with Karla movie as he goes on to say...]

He’s seen “some people” [you mean lgbtq+ people?!]  “complaining” about this is playing into the “bury the gays” trope which is an insidious and real trope in film and television storytelling in h/w over the years. Misha doesn’t think that’s what was happening with Castiel’s [he died second after the confession MIsha!] First of all Castiel isn’t dead, he’s in heaven working to rebuild it... [you didn’t know this 2 weeks ago, as far as you knew Castiel died and went to the empty].  So much good came from that declaration, because Cass was able to save Dean, which was essential to saving the world, so this declaration wasn’t so then fate strikes you down and you’re done forever. The declaration literally ended up saving the world. It was of Cass’ own volition, he wasn’t forced to do it, it was his choice, and he thinks that’s important, so maybe he’s naieve and doesn’t feel they are playing into that trope. 

[You were absolutely playing into that trope Misha and you didn’t give a shit as you did no research on playing an lgbtq+ character so sincerely fuck off]

He’s glad that Castiel got to express that and have that ending. He thinks thats kind of important and he’s proud the show did that. [again fuck off, this was done for you and it showed]  He thinks its a conversation they will continue to have as they continue to dissect it going forward [nope, consigned to the dumpster fire I’ve put the majority of the rest of Drabbernatural in]

- Do you think you will ever get an SPN tattoo?:  He doesn’t have any but he’s thinking about getting tattoos relating to his children.  Is that a sign of desperation that a true hasbeen will do? Should he get a tattoo of Jared and Jensen’s face.  He could get a tattoo of Castiel’s face on his abdomen.  He’s saying probably not. If they want to get one, totally supportive of that

-  what is his favourite moment of the finale?: Dean’s death scene, masterfully executed, excellent performances from both Jared and Jensen in that scene and made him cry

- best memory of your last day on the supernatural set?: everyone being really sweet, lot of tears from cast and crew. The last scene he shot as Castiel was the last scene of the day on a Friday. Him, Alex, Richard S and Jensen all had to get to Las Vegas for a fan convention the next morning. They shot late and finished at 1.30, it was Cass goodbye and Misha’s goodbye to the show.  He said they had to get a chartered flight because of the early flight [not sure why he’s saying this as I thought it was Jared’s plane they all travelled in?] He’s talking about going back - because of the issue with the plane - and they are all texting family, saying they love them, so it was such a strange night, he’d said goodbye to Supernatural, he said goodbye to Castiel and later on said goodbye to his kids because they thought they were going to die that night. :(

[Going to add that this puts to rest that Misha was due back for 19 and 20 even before covid, it confirms he was not going to be in either episode, though I maintain, they may have shot an extra scene while they had him to slot into 19 or 20]

- do you think Cass and the other angels got their wings back?: Yes, probably, they have Jack who is the new god. What a long and miserable experience that was of not having wings. Cass was so powerful when he started, he could snap his fingers and teleport and time travel and lost that with his broken wings and they didn’t come back. He doesn’t know why they didn’t fix him as Castiel would have been a much more powerful ally if he didn’t have to drive around in the pimp mobile [uh, for the same reason Sam lost his powers, deus ex machina]. He tells the story of Jared pressing buttons in the car causing the hydraulics to fail costing $10000 of repair.

- in your opinion, what colour are Castiels wings?: shit, I don’t know, I always thought they were black, but now that you’ve said that, they are rainbow coloured, how about that?

- What is the worst joke Jared and Jensen did to you?: [*cough fans looking for things to complain about or hate Jared on]: Jared and Jensen, as you know, they are not good people.  He talks about directing an episode and they got excited in the week before, they were going to break into his apartment and steal his furniture, they had all kinds of nefarious plans, the crew tipped him off and told him to watch his home and car keys. They put a fish under the seat in his car and one of the crew told him.  Jared removed the canvas on the director’s chair and laid it across so it looked like it was still the chair. Misha fell for that at least 5 times. That was pretty frustrating. Jared kept messing up his lines (which Misha said Jared never does) and Misha was directing in another room, Misha eventually went to see what the problem was and that’s when Jared pied him in the face. Everyone in the crew was complicit in the “assault”. Jensen brought him another shirt, said, “I’m sorry man, that’s sucks, that was too much.”  Jensen then pied him in the face.

- What is the real story behind the handprint in the finale?: Um I don't know, but I think it was a nice touch, that was a really lovely callback that worked well. I can’t remember how we came up with that, or was it in the script, I can’t remember. Wasn’t it a good callback to the very beginning. [Again, this appears to differ from what was being reported two weeks ago so might need to go back to that panel if I can get access to it]

-What’s your favourite memory from offline/online panels?: It’s much more fun to be live and in person. I don’t know, I have had some really fun... [PANDERING ALERT COMING UP] Jensen and I have some really fun panels together in Rome.  I don’t know why but we always just seem to have a real hoot there, talks about the resume off, they really enjoyed that. He had pizza delivered to a creation panel once.  He talks about the Saturday night special and he can’t wait till they can get back to that. 

[NOTE CYNICAL PART OF THIS IS FOR HIS FANBASE TO ONCE AGAIN CLAMOUR FOR MORE JENMISH PANELS. I DO NOT TRUST THIS MAN AT ALL]

- What was your favourite version of Castiel to play?: he had the most fun playing Lucifer because Mark P had left a great template to play Lucifer [you took the worst parts imo but Mark fucked his character up too]. He enjoyed playing the human parts of Castiel because it was fun to explore how to be human for the first time. Overall, just regular Cass. He wouldn’t have wanted to trade regular Castiel for other iterations. [A great question would be badass Castiel v late season wooby castiel preference]

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Robin and Gale Hood; Ben Hardy x reader Chap. 4

*Author’s note*

After thinking about how in some versions of Robin Hood they expand more on the Merry Man and how Disney’s only version doesn’t (just has Robin hood and little John) so I’ve decided to rectify that and add more members of the Merry Men.  Now these names are actually the names of other members (well except for one name I had along with keeping the original name) so here’s the final cast list of what I have in store for you all.

Cast list:

The Scotsman: Richard Madden

David of Doncaster: Jamie Bell

Gilbert Whitehand: Taron Egerton

Friar Tuck: Brian May (think early 1990′s Bri)

Chapter 4,

Sherwood forest

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@wormzteef​

@geek-and-proud​

@queen-paladin​

___________________________________________________

Gale Hood was riding along back to Sherwood forest to meet up with her brother and Little John, and along the way three more lovely chaps came riding up behind her and called out to her.

“Oi Gale!” cried out a handsome dark haired, blue eyed Scotsman riding a pure black stallion.  She turned and smiled and said.

“I see you gentlemen have returned from your voyage. Tell me how were the other towns?” she asked the men.

“About the same as Nottingham is. I fear that if Prince John isn’t stopped he’ll suck the taxes out of not just Nottingham but all of England.” Said a young Welsh man with a tuff of brown hair riding a white horse.

“We’ll find a way Gilbert. One way or another. So how were the Sharpe’s Gale?” said the third gentleman with long shoulder length brown hair riding a brown horse.

“Veronica will soon be feeling better thanks to the medicine you helped me find David.”

Guess I should explain to you gentle readers.  These three dashing young men are also apart of Robin and Gale’s Merry men.  Sure there have been many tales of just Robin and Little John, but in this story we’re going to shed some light on some more members of the Hood sibling’s gang.

The Scotsman, well that’s really his name in the gang.  He was wanted for such crimes back in his Scotland home, that he rid his real name forever and just went by ‘The Scot’.  But every now and then he would be called ‘Kit’ by our gang of outlaws.  

At first he wasn’t even permitted to join the group (mostly because the Scots and the English didn’t really like each other) less he bested Robin Hood in fair combat (to which he did).

The second chap on the white horse is known as Gilbert Whitehand. He is really the only person (besides Gale) that is up to Robin’s skill with a bow and arrow.  He has a keen eye and it is said he can even shoot an arrow without even looking at the target.

He can be quick and rash at times, especially when it’s about protecting the poor people but when need to he can be reasoned with and is above all else loyal to a fault.

The third gentleman with the long brown hair is David of Doncaster.  He’s more like the voice of reason of the band.  Whenever tempers fly or someone’s about to get killed (and it has happened before on an occasion or ten) David is the one there to make the peace.  He and Gale were especially close since they both had a similar experience on how their mother’s were killed when they were kids.

He’s also been her confidant (basically he’s her Little John in a way) especially when James left for London and she was heartbroken.

“That’s good.” There was silence through the air, an awkward silence.  So much so that Gale stopped her khaki colored mare and turned towards the three men whose horses stopped and let out a few nickers and neighs at the sudden stop.

“I know what you three are thinking. And believe me I already know.”

“Know what?” asked David.

“Yeah we-we-we don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gilbert tried to play off.

“Don’t lie to me boys. I know that James and Marian are back.”

“What?!” they all faux out innocently.  They then each began to say how they didn’t hear about it.

But one look from Gale and they broke down and all said that they knew and heard about it from the town’s over.

“You lot are so adorable.”

“Well it’s just that…..we look at you as our own little sister and well—when James left never did I want to beat the shit out of royalty before.” Gilbert said.

“Yeah and that would’ve gotten you a front row seat to the hangman’s noose.” David said.

“Look we know how happy he made you and—how miserable you were the first few months lassie. So we—but secretly we’ve been thinking that maybe with him back in Nottingham you both could……”

“I’ll stop you right there Kit. It’s been over 6 years since he left. And in that time with him being the next in line he’s destined to find a woman of royalty to marry and support an heir. There’s no future for us anymore.”

“Gale…….”

“You know as well as I do David. Besides he’s probably forgotten all about me.”

“If he had Gale, then why would he give you his family’s ring?” Gilbert asked.  Gale clenched the ring around her neck into her fist.

“Robin and Little John are waiting for us. We can’t keep them waiting.” She urged her mare onward.

The three gents looked at one another sympathetically for their female leader but urged their horses onward.

When they got back to the entrance of Sherwood forest. Which lay right by a medium sized water fall.  They got off their horses and took the saddles off before sending them off back into the woods.

One by one they walked across the stone-cobbled path that stood over the water before entering behind the waterfall and walked through a tight cave entrance.

And there in the middle of the vast extension of the forest was a campsite with laundry hanging to dry, a few tables and chairs, and a large fireplace surrounded by stones and rocks to keep the flames from spreading.

“YOU’RE BURNING THE FOOD!!” Little John’s voice exclaimed.

“Uh-oh. He’s at it again.” Kit muttered.  The four of them walked around a large tree and there was Little John fanning a smoking pot with one of his newly washed clothes.

“Sorry Johnny. Guess I was thinking about Maid Marian again.” Robin said as he wiped his shirt of the soot and ash from the burned dinner. “I can’t help it……I love her John.”

“So you’ve heard too brother?” Gale’s voice soon spoke up. Robin and Little John turned and when they saw the rest of their gang and family arrive, Robin nodded.

“Yeah. And I assume you—”

“Please not—I don’t want to hear another word of it.”

“Look why don’t you two stop pining and moaning about just marry those two already will yah?” Little John said as he tried to cool down and save the burnt food.

“Marry them?!” the siblings exclaimed.

“You don’t just walk up to a girl, hand her a bouquet and say ‘hey remember me? We were kids together will you marry me?’ No. It just isn’t done that way.” Robin said as he mimed out his first statement before turning away solemnly and going to check the laundry.

“Oh c’mon Rob, climb the castle walls. Sweep her off her feet. Carry her off in style.” Gilbert said.

“It’s no use Gilbert, I’ve thought it all out and it just wouldn’t work. Besides what have I got to offer her?” Robin sighed.

“Well for one thing you can’t cook.” Little John said as he sniffed the food before trying to save the taste by dumping some water into it.

“I’m serious lads, she’s a high born lady of quality.”

“So the lass has class. So what?” Kit said.

“I’m an outlaw that’s what!” Robin shouted as he hung the shirt Little John used to fan the food back over a tree branch. “That’s no life for a lovely lady always on the run. What kind of future is that anyways?”

Gale looked at her brother solemnly before looking down at Prince James’ ring and clenched it in her palm.

“Oh for heaven’s sake son!” a voice suddenly cried out. Robin fell into the laundry basket and when he looked up he saw standing before him was the good Friar of Nottingham, Friar Tuck.

He was a middle aged man that stood about 6’2. Surprisingly for a Friar, he had wild curly dark hair.  He was a kind hearted soul who not only gave his life into helping the poor people of Nottingham in this time of crisis, but he also was a father figure to our gang of outlaws.

In fact Robin and Gale’s mother had asked the Friar to watch over her two children before she died and he kept that word like it was the word of God.

“You and your sister aren’t outlaws. Why someday you both will be called great heroes.”

“A hero?” laughed Robin. “You hear that sister? We’ve just been pardoned.”

“Well that’s a gag. We hadn’t even been arrested yet.” Gale said releasing the ring from her grip.  Friar Tuck walked up to her and gently ruffled her hair as he said.

“Alright laugh and doubt an old Friar you young rouges. But I swear to you there’s going to be a big to-do in Nottingham.” He then walked over to the stewpot, took the spoon that Little John was using and took a small sip of it.

Before anyone could have a chance to warn him that the stew was beyond repair, he started coughing and tears began to stream down his face.

“Well done ain’t it?” he croaked out.  David quickly prepped a cup of water and handed it to the good Friar who took it and rinsed out the bad after taste of the burnt stew.

“You’re lucky your cooking didn’t kill him.” Gale hissed lowly to her brother.

“Like you’re any better at cooking than I am.” Robin sneered back.

“No need for arguments children.” Friar Tuck gently scolded as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry Friar.” The two rebels said solemnly like two children being caught doing something naughty.

“Anyway. I bring news from the minstrel.”

“Ahh. And what does ol Alan O’Dale sing about these days?” asked Gilbert as he perched up along his favorite tree branch.

“Tomorrow, Prince John is hosting a championship archery tournament.”

“Archery tournament. Ha! Robin, Gale and I could win that standing on our heads with our eyes closed.” Boasted Gilbert as he fiddled with one of his black tipped arrows and gave a wink at the siblings.

“Oh Gilbert you flatterer. But I’m sure we’re not invited.” Gale said.

“No. But there will be a couple people who’ll be disappointed if you don’t come.” Friar Tuck said as he took another sip of the water.

“Oh yeah. Like ol bushel britches the ‘honorable Sheriff of Nottingham’.” Little John mimicked the Sheriff’s deep monotoned voice.

“And of course let’s not forget the ruler of this land Prince John. ‘Mummy!’” Kit mimicked as he began to suck his thumb.

“No……Maid Marian and Prince James.”

“Marian?” Robin said in shock.

“And James?” Gale whispered in the same tone.

“Yes. The prize along with a golden arrow is that she’ll also be giving a kiss to the winner.” Friar Tuck winked at the rest of the band before softly chuckling.

“A kiss to the winner?” Robin gasped happily. “Oo-de-lally! C’mon you lot what are we waiting for!?” Robin cheered ecstatically.

“Wait a minute now Robin! What if this is a trap? You know how both Prince John and the Sheriff both want your head for different reasons. What if this is some plot to lure you out?” David warned.

“You underestimate me my dear David. Besides, faint hearts never won fair lady. So fear not my friend, this will be my greatest performance!”

“Where’s Gale?” Little John soon spoke up.  As the six men looked around, they did notice that their only female rouge was in fact missing.

“I’ll go find her.” Robin said.

“Pardon me Robin, but allow me to go find your sister.” Friar Tuck offered.  Robin, secretly knowing that his own sister probably didn’t want to talk to him, allowed Friar Tuck to go search for his sister.

Further down the trail that Friar Tuck used to enter Sherwood Forest, he found Gale sitting among a field of veronica flowers.  Friar Tuck smiled solemnly and walked up towards her and said.

“It is said that the Veronica flower symbolizes fidelity and love. I even saw Prince James pick up a few of these flowers when he and Marian first arrived back to Nottingham. And I could tell that he was thinking of you.” Gale continued to look down at the flowers, fiddling with the purple buds within. “You doubt my words my dear?”

“No. I believe it.” She muttered.  Friar Tuck looked at her with soft eyes. “Friar Tuck……was it my fault for loving him?”

“Love is not a fault. Nor is it a flaw.” She looked at him confused.  He did sometimes like to talk in strange riddles and tongues and it sometimes did get annoying to her when he did that, especially to her. “I also seem to recall seeing the scar on his chin from when you first met and you knocked that rock against his handsome face.”

That at least got a smile out of Gale.  A real smile to which the good Friar softly chuckled.

“Listen my child;” he placed his arm over her shoulders and the two looked at each other as he continued, “Love is a deep magic that is the most powerful thing the good Lord has given us. It helps us define right from wrong. And governs all of our destines. Yours, mine, your brother’s, as well as Marian and James.”

“But what if he’s forgotten about me?”

“If he had then he never would’ve come back with Marian.”

“And what about forgiveness?” she said sadly as she looked down, tears filling her eyes.  Friar Tuck gently wiped a hidden tear from the corner of her eye and he said.

“My sweet Gale. I understand your fear about meeting James after what happened between the two of you. But I need you to also consider of what James has gone through. My good friend King Richard has told me of how depressed his son has become since that day.”

“You really think I should go see him, don’t you?” she asked after a long silence between the two of you.

“It’s not my place to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. You are a mature, beautiful young woman. All I ask is that you make the choice that you won’t regret making.” He tucked a strand of her wild black hair behind her ear before placing his hand against her cheek.

She nuzzled against his warm palm before Friar Tuck placed his forehead against hers.

The two of them remained in that position.  Gale Hood drawing strength and love from the good Friar who had been the only father figure she had ever known in her whole life.

He gave her a gentle and loving kiss to her forehead before standing back up and left her to return to the church.  Gale looked down at the ring and unhooked the chain from her neck.  She let it drop down to her palm and she looked down to admire the family crest.

The proud lion staring right into her very soul.  As tears poured down her face, she placed the ring to her lips before finally for the first time in years, placing the ring back onto her left thumb (since it was the only finger it would fit on her).

When she returned back to her camp, her brother was the first to look up at her.  The others soon followed and the men waited patiently for her to speak.

“Whatever you lot have hatched up—I want in.” Robin walked up to his sister and asked her.

“You sure?”

“I’ve been wallowing in self-pity and guilt for years. I—I want to finally clear my conscious and finally face my past head on.” Robin smiled at his little sister and pressed his forehead against hers, their noses grazing one another’s.

“I’m proud of you sister. We’ll get through this together.” Gale nodded and repeated.

“Together forever.”

“Never apart.” Robin whispered.  He then came around to her side, slinging his arm over Gale and he said. “Gents, slight change to the plan now. We’ve got ourselves a new actor in our midst. Here’s what will happen now.”

Throughout the night, our band of rouges rehearsed and rehearsed their upcoming performance and this time both Robin and Gale would get the closure they needed.  

Finally reuniting with their childhood lovers and hopefully rekindle the flames that they feared were long extinguished.

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

hi hi hi, please can i prompt something a lil bit angsty (because i do adore my angst). the first serious fight that theo x draco x hermione have, and maybe how they make up after? thank you.

I loved loved LOVED this prompt, and I’m sorry it took me so long to get round to it. If it’s any consolation, it’s nearly 4k words long...?

Featuring: Draco being the grandiose nobleman he was brought up to be, Theo unthinkingly going along with it, one EXTREMELY tired Hermione who is absolutely not up for surprises or grand, showy, romantic gestures, Hagrid, Fang, Firenze the centaur, and a dollop of fluff to wash the fleeting angst and misunderstandings down.

Hope you enjoy it!

___

After the longest week, with barely a moment to catch her breath, burning the candle at both ends, all Hermione wanted to do on Saturday was sleep, read up on a few more things for an upcoming Ancient Studies test, perhaps lounge in the boys’ room down in the Dungeons, and perhaps convince one of them to give her a massage. Simple, humble plans, every last one of them.  

But the universe, apparently, had other ideas, given that it had seen fit to make the busiest week of term so far culminate not in an ordinary weekend, but in Valentine’s Day.  

Wizarding and Muggle alike the world was awash with pink hearts and red roses, and Hermione wanted nothing to do with it. She never had, and she knew that both boys were unfortunately prone to grand displays of affection, and that made her anxious and snappy. She’d spent most of the previous week - in the cumulative half hour that she’d actually spent in their company - trying to hint and suggest heavily that she had no interest in grand surprises and romantic endeavours. The most romantic thing someone could do for her was respect her wishes, after all.  

Quite deliberately, she’d not made any concrete plans to see the boys that Saturday, helped by the fact that Draco had an extensive Quidditch training session scheduled and Theo had some work to catch up, but after she’d woken at her usual time anyway, and had lain there for an hour, praying for sleep that wasn’t going to return, she got up. Her mother had always said that if you can’t rest, do something productive.  

The Great Hall teemed with excitable younger years, one or two unfortunate howlers, and a plethora of Exploding Envelopes filled with glittering confetti hearts from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and she turned around and left before even bothering to step inside. It wasn’t that she hated the sentiments behind Valentine’s at all, but honestly, it just felt rather cheap and the thought of it all simply… exhausted her further.  

Without pausing or returning to the Tower, she made the split-second decision just to bolt out into the grounds and found herself eventually at Hagrid’s hut. He was outside chopping wood and Fang was busy sneakily lapping tea out of the bucket-sized mug that Hagrid had set on a spare stump. The enormous hound looked up suddenly as she caught him in the act, but then gave a low, baying woof of welcome.  

“‘Allo, ‘Ermione,” Hagrid said with a grunt and a little puzzled frown as he straightened from his work. “Good te see yeh. What brings yeh down ‘ere at this time o’ day?”

She shrugged. “Got any jobs I can help with?” she asked instead and he raised an eyebrow and chuckled.  

“Don’t see yeh swinging this around…” the half-giant laughed, hefting the axe that looked like it weighed five times what she did.  

“Preferably not,” she said. “Though I’m not opposed to using magic to get it done.”

“I think I’ve got a few jobs we can do together,” he said. “Fang? Let’s go see Uncle Firenze, eh?” 

They spent the day in the Forbidden Forest with the centaurs, a rare opportunity that Hermione relished, gathering wild mushrooms that only grew in the very depths of the forest and bringing them back carefully in a covered basket for the potions storeroom, among other rare ingredients. She also spent a long time walking with Firenze, the pale centaur quizzing her about the state of the wider wizarding world now, and she in turn asking him questions about the more rigorous sides of the art of divination. The three of them, four if you counted Fang snuffling about in the undergrowth, ate a packed lunch of cheese sandwiches which Hagrid drew out of his top pocket, only slightly misshapen and squashed, and afterwards Firenze showed them some rare, early-spring berries that tasted like pomegranate but had the texture of blueberries.  

At last, her physical exhaustion matched her mental tiredness, and by the time they returned to Hagrid’s hut an hour from sunset, grubby and a little sweaty, she felt fit to fall over.  

“Thank you, Hagrid,” she said, pushing a strand of her ‘witch of the wilds’ hair out of her face, only for it to spring back again. It was so big at that point that a hippogriff chick could probably have nested atop it in perfect comfort. “I needed the distraction.”

He bowed in quiet understanding. “Any time, ‘Ermione. Yeh know that.”

She blessed him silently for not asking any more, and with a nod and a final pat on Fang’s head, she turned her steps towards the castle with no more thoughts in her head than for a long soak in a bath and an early night.  

Again, the universe apparently had other ideas.  

Pacing the entrance hall like his caged namesake, she found Draco looking breathtakingly smart in a set of charcoal grey dress robes and shiny black Oxfords. When he looked up and spotted her, his face did something complicated, the final expression settling on relief, and he came over to her in two quick strides.  

“Where the hell have you been?” he barked, scowling. “Look at the state of you!”

“Out and about in the forest,” she said tersely, hackles rising at his tone. “I didn’t know I needed to report my whereabouts to you, Draco…”

“You —” he began but he broke off and took a breath. “You don’t. Of course you don’t. But I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Theo too. He’s gone to Gryffindor Tower to ask for you again. You weren’t in the library and no one has seen you all day.”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s not like we made plans…”

Draco went still at that, his cheeks first paling and then flushing.  

“Did we?” she pressed, hand on hip, now quite certain that they had not. “Oh god, Draco, don’t tell me you’ve got something dramatic planned for Valentine’s, and you haven’t told me because you wanted to surprise me?” She pinched the brow of her nose. “Please… I told you how I feel about that kind of thing…”

When he spoke again, his voice was cold, defensive, even haughty. “Actually, yes, I do. I wanted to do something nice for you today, and I’d appreciate it if you went and washed the thestral shit off your skin and the twigs from your hair, and changed into something nice. I know you know how to dress up, Granger.”

The frayed end of her metaphorical tether slithered into sight and vanished utterly, and she gasped, “You’d ‘appreciate it’, Draco? Well, you know what I’d have appreciated? Being asked!”

“I’m asking you now,” he said petulantly.  

“No you’re not!” she shrilled back at him. “You’re demanding. This is the classic, old Draco - ‘Go and change, Granger’, ‘dress up nicely, Granger’.”

Draco balked visibly but ground his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he snarled, sounding more frustrated that contrite. “But we’re going to miss our booking, and I’d really like to make it. Please… will you go and change?”

She nearly said yes. Damn her, but she nearly said yes.  

Even after the week from hell, with tutoring sessions and tests and homework and prefect’s patrols, she nearly said yes.

But this time, Hermione Granger was going to stand up for herself.  

“No, Draco, I won’t. I’m exhausted, and all I wanted from today was to relax, have a bit of time to myself, and spend the evening in the bath and then in bed. If you’d told me instead of just assuming I’d go along with whatever grand gesture you’re pulling out of your arse, then maybe I’d think differently. But you don’t just get to order me around like I’m some pureblood debutante to decorate your arm for the evening, Draco. Goodnight.”

And with that, she stormed up the stairs, leaving an astonished and fuming Draco at the bottom, his face revolving through a series of expressions and colours.  

She passed Theo on his way back down and he almost didn’t spot her as he scuttled down the staircase looking equally and devastatingly handsome as Draco had. “Hermione?” he asked, skidding to an ungainly stop and having to grab the banister to support himself as she charged past him.  

“Ask Draco,” she said over her shoulder. “But whatever it is, I’m not going. You two should go and indulge your penchant for lavish evenings on each other.”

“Fuck. I knew it,” she heard him hiss, but to his credit, he didn’t follow her either.

Hermione fumed all evening, and even the bath did nothing to calm her down. Despite her agitation, however, she did sleep soundly, the exertions of the day robbing her brain of the ability to over think itself into ever tighter and tighter circles. Sometimes she could see how far Draco had changed in what would be a year this May, but other times he defaulted to his pureblood upbringing; to the son of a nobleman, used to having people do his bidding without question. She tried to be patient, but at times like this, it irked her more than she would have thought possible.  

The fact that this was their first major falling out - sure, they’d had little misunderstandings and had snapped at each other before now - was also a major contributing factor to the free-floating stress and anxiety coursing through her. What if he never learned to ask instead of demand? Was that the kind of person she wanted to spend her life with? And Theo had been Draco’s boyfriend before he’d been hers. Would he always just go along with what Malfoy wanted? Doubts chased each other like kneazles and bats in her brain when she woke in the early dawn, until she thought she might go mad.  

Malfoy really had been a wonderful boyfriend so far, but he was undeniably prone to bouts of showy, melodramatic romanticism. Her mind conjured images of the diamond necklace he’d gifted her for Yule, and the staggeringly expensive watch he’d gifted Theo, and she struggled to brush them away. He’d come a long way, and he’d changed a lot, but some things took their time, and she doubted whether other things would ever change.

When she stepped out of the Fat Lady’s portrait the next morning, she ground to a halt and almost walked straight back into the tower before the portrait could swing shut. She didn’t, however. She held her ground and stared at Draco who was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, looking like he’d been there all night. The charcoal grey robes were the same, if dishevelled, the shirt open at the collar. Merlin, he really had been camped out there all night.  

He levered himself to his feet and stared at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he blurted before she could open her mouth. “Hermione, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t listening to you at all, and I should have asked, and I never should have just… presumed like that. I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

She stared at him. “So you know why I’m angry.”

“I didn’t ask,” he said immediately. “And I didn’t respect you. I knew that what I was doing wasn’t the right way to treat you, to show you… but I wilfully ignored that and went ahead with it anyway. I was a giant ass and I’m sorry I hurt you.”

His handsome face looked ashen and wan, his eyes pink behind the silver of his irises. He also carried the sleepless smudges of a night spent in a draughty corridor beneath his eyes.  

Looking around, she asked, “Where’s Theo?”

“Hiding,” Draco said bashfully. “And brooding. It’s awful. Sitting here on the floor all night was actually preferable to being around him.”

Fighting a smirk at his humour, she asked, “Did the two of you go last night?” Wherever it was they’d planned to take her.  

Draco’s brows dipped into a deep scowl. “Without you? Of course not.”

At that, she did twitch her lips. “Go and change out of last night’s robes, Draco,” she said gently, well aware that that was one of the things Draco had said to her, sparking the argument off in the first place. “And take a shower while you’re at it.”  

“Hermione —” he began, taking an aborted step towards her, but he swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’ve said what I wanted to say,” he added dejectedly, and turned away to walk down the corridor with his head held in a distinctly un-Malfoy bow.  

Before he’d gone two steps, she reached out and latched her fingers around his wrist. “I’ll see you in the Great Hall in a bit for some breakfast, ok?”

With eyes wide and achingly vulnerable, Draco tried out a little smile on his worried lips. It didn’t stick, but at least it had been there. “Ok. Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes as he walked off, hands in his pockets. “Such drama,” she said as she turned to find the Fat Lady watching their exchange with avid interest.  

The Fat Lady popped another chocolate into her mouth as if it were cinema popcorn, and giggled. “Young love,” she crooned. “I’ll enjoy telling Violet all about this later on! You mark my words. You know,” the portrait added thoughtfully as Hermione started to walk away too, and the witch halted immediately.  

“Know what?” she asked, warily.  

After another chocolate and a quick giggle, the Fat Lady said, “He tried every trick he could think of to get me to let him in. I know very well who he is to you, but I very nearly had to leave my painting in frustration. He kept it up until at least two in the morning.”

“When Draco sets his sights on something, he’s very difficult to dissuade,” Hermione agreed. “Thank you for not letting him in. I wouldn’t have welcomed his presence last night. I was still too angry with him.”

The Fat Lady looked horrified and said, “As if I’d let someone in that wasn’t supposed to be here!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hermione said. “But thank you all the same.”

With a soft ‘harrumph’ around another praline, the Fat Lady nodded.  

Theo was already in the hall when she entered, and she spotted him almost immediately. He was stirring his ceramic tankard of coffee listlessly with his spoon and staring into it like it held the secrets of the universe.  

“Drama queens, the both of you,” she muttered fondly to herself under her breath. Ignoring the Gryffindor table, she turned her steps towards the Slytherin one.  

Her presence there was now not such a surprise that most people ignored her approach without comment, effectively giving her the chance to sneak up on the lone Slytherin, sliding into the space on his right before he’d even realised she was there.  

“Morning,” she said in a low voice, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The spoon clattered against the mug and coffee slopped over the sides as his fingers released it unbidden.  

“Hermione,” he breathed.  

His whole face was a question, and she laughed. “Yes, I’ve spoken to Draco, and yes, he’s still got his pretty face and both his bollocks.”

“What about his cock?” Theo joked reflexively, nervously.  

“You’ll have to find out later, won’t you?” she deadpanned without looking at him, reaching out to pour herself a mug of tea from a nearby pot.  

After a pause, in which Theo vanished the spilled coffee that had pooled around the base of his own mug, he asked, “So… how badly did we fuck up yesterday?”

She took a sip of her tea and added a splash more milk before responding. “Not going to lie, I was really annoyed with both of you for just assuming I’d be ok with being whisked off to wherever without a moment’s warning. I hate surprises, and you both know it.”

“Yeah…” Theo admitted.  

“So what were you thinking?” she almost shrilled. “That it’d be different if it came from you? That I’ll magically stop hating surprises just because they’re from you two?”

Theo half-shrugged, half-twitched, and said, “Kind of… Look, Hermione, I’m not trying to excuse us - we didn’t listen to you, and that’s the bottom line - but…” he broke off and ground his jaw for a moment.

“Just spit it out, Theo,” she said, turning and resting her elbow on the table to regard him properly.  

“We were raised in a different world from you, ok? From most witches and wizards actually. Purebloods like us are expected to behave in certain… coded ways with the women we’re… courting.”

“‘Courting’?” she snorted, unable to help herself.  

Adopting a sycophantic, over the top manner, he gestured and said, “Wooing, of whom we are seeking the favour, ingratiating ourselves… making our intentions known…”

“Shut up, you pompous prick,” she laughed and his face cracked into a tentative smile.  

He was clearly relieved to find laughter in her reaction, not anger. “So…” he continued in a more normal tone, returning his hands to the table and running his thumbnail along the grain in the wood, eyes downcast. “So… there are certain behaviours we kind of default to, and… honestly, there are certain behaviours that the women in our circles also expect of us. Big, showy, romantic gestures being one of them. You should consider yourself lucky you didn’t wake up to a room full of messenger owls all hooting imperiously and bearing enormous bunches of the rarest roses on earth or something…”

“I suppose I should,” she said, beginning to see it now from their point of view.  

“A pureblood wizard is expected to show that he can take care of the witch he intends to —” he cut off and swallowed, freckles briefly disappearing behind a rising flush. “—to court. That there’s nothing on earth he couldn't provide for her at the drop of a hat. I think we just… we just wanted to show you that we’re serious, but… we may have underestimated the calibre of the witch we’re dealing with here…”

“Maybe just a little bit,” she said dryly, and then sighed. “Did Draco really spend all night outside Gryffindor Tower?”

“Yup.”

“Big, showy, romantic gestures, huh?” she said, plucking a croissant off a nearby platter and tearing one end off. “I’m half expecting him to come in here with a single white rose in his hand,” she scoffed, looking up to find that Theo eyes were now fixed on a point just behind her. Draco had apparently arrived then.  

She saw his pale hand reaching down to the table out of the corner of her eye and when he picked up a silver spoon, she closed her eyes and laughed softly to herself. A tingle of magic nearby told her what he was doing, and sure enough, when she turned around to look up at him from her seat, Draco stood there with a single, transfigured white rose in his right hand.  

“Unbelievable,” she said, rolling her eyes again.  

Silently, Draco held it out to her and she took it. It smelled like summer evenings and she exhaled.  

“Apology accepted, Draco,” she said, glancing around. “Now sit down. You’re causing a scene.”

He slid onto the bench on her right and stared at the empty plate in front of him for a moment, hands resting elegantly on either side of it.  

She reached out and placed her palm over his, feeling the slight twitch beneath as their skin made contact. Hermione squeezed his long fingers until he looked up at her, his eyes shining and his face wracked with a complex mixture of emotions that she had no hope of deciphering.  

“Theo and I talked,” she said. “And he may have pointed out to me a certain ‘difference in upbringing’ that went some way towards explaining why you went to the lengths you did yesterday.”

“I still —” Draco began but she cut him off.  

“We’ve established already that you could have opened your lugholes a little sooner, but I feel like we’ve also moved on from that. It came from a place of love and good intention, and as such, I’d like to propose a compromise.”

At that, Theo and Draco both gave her their absolute and undivided attention and curiosity.  

Stifling a smirk, she said, “I don’t know what it is you had planned for yesterday, and frankly at this point, I don’t ever want to know. But how about we go into Hogsmeade next weekend and have dinner together. I’ll know it’s coming and what to expect, and you two can argue over who foots the bill if you want to make it a romantic gesture. Or we can split it three ways.”

“Absolutely not,” Draco said instantly and something hot flared inside her at that. “I meant splitting the payment three ways,” he added bashfully, seeing where her mind had gone instead.  

At that, the tension shattered and she tipped her head back and laughed, gripping his hand for support as she leaned almost perilously far back. Theo put his hand between her shoulder blades just in case, and half the Slytherin table began to stare at them.  

Theo leaned in close and said in her ear, “You’re causing a scene, dear Hermione.”

She squeezed Draco’s hand and let out a long, slow sigh as the laughter faded. “What am I going to do with you two?” she said, shaking her head.  

“Be patient…?” Draco all but begged, mumbling into his coffee. Where Theo took his black, Draco piled cream and sugar into his until it was barely recognisable as coffee in the first place. She smirked fondly to herself as she contemplated his ridiculously sweet tooth, and wondered if, with his penchant for apples, he also liked sour sweets. Perhaps she’d get Harry to owl her some Haribo to try out on him.  

“Hermione?” he asked, looking up at her. His skin was so pale it was like marble in the soft light of the Great Hall, and he looked eerily like the statue of a saint at a shrine in that moment, all hope and tentative expectation.  

For her answer, Hermione slid her left hand into Theo’s, and then reached up and took Draco’s chin in her right hand, turning him by his sharp and now-just-perfectly-pointed chin. His eyes were wide, gleaming, silver mirrors, fixed unyieldingly on her own.  

Hermione held him there between thumb and forefinger, and as she pressed a searing kiss against his pale lips, she felt Theo’s grip tighten on her left hand.

___

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m new to the fandom on here and appreciate all the help I can get!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Can you do 24 for lupat red x ichigo pls and thank

Time for more Dramatic Public Kissing!

The message comes in from France HQ early in the morning.

Bonjour, mes amis--thought you ought to know that I’ve traced a Collection piece to Le Monde Bijouterie. Also, am planning to drop by for a visit in a couple of weeks, are there any sweets I can bring you?

It’s signed Noël, with a flourish and a couple of little hearts, one of which was clearly drawn to hide a coffee stain. Keiichiro reads it and grins, passing it to Tsukasa, who reads it as well, except that she almost winces. “You need an appointment to even go into Le Monde. The clerks there sneer at everyone. We’re going to need a warrant or they won’t let us past the door.”

Jim lights up. “I’ll work on that, Noël is also transmitting details on the piece and its movements so we actually have a basis to request one.”

--

The warrant turns out to be a moot point, because Le Monde gets robbed at seven o’clock that evening. The word about the Collection piece has already been passed to the local police, and so the PatRangers are on the way as soon as the call comes in.

“It’s sort of nice that we’re not going to be fighting a Ganglar,” Sakuya says cheerfully as they’re getting out of the car. “It’s lower stress, you know?”

Tsukasa glances to one side and then hisses, “The press is here!” through her teeth.

Keiichiro groans. The press has also been thrilled that the Ganglars are no longer a major issue, because now they can cover the “local celebrities,” as they keep putting it, without being in serious danger of getting blown up. It’s a problem. Wherever the PatRangers go now, reporters follow.

“Just don’t talk to them.” He pulls out his VS Changer. “We’re here to work.”

They acquit themselves fairly well, all things considered. The robbers have barricaded themselves into the store with several terrified sales clerks, which isn’t a great start, but they’re still only human, and they don’t have any super-tech on hand. There’s some careful negotiation involved, and a small amount of property damage, but in the end there are no deaths, no civilians hurt, and only one robber with anything more than some light bruising.

It’s when they can finally de-transform and Sakuya comes out of the shop with the Collection piece and hands it to Keiichiro that the reporters start yelling.

“What’s that up there?”

“Who’s that?”

A bright flicker of yellow darts across the roof of the jewelry store. A streak of blue settles down onto an apartment balcony across the street. Tsukasa says, quietly, “Oh no.”

Keiichiro groans. “I know you’re there, LupinRangers. You’re a little late, aren’t you?”

“Actually,” Kairi says from directly behind him, “I think we got here just in time.”

Keiichiro jumps and turns around. The reporters let out a collective shriek of journalistic delight. Camera flashes start to go off.

Kairi is hanging from the store awning by his zipline, feet braced on one of the support columns, grinning and resplendent in mask and top hat and ridiculous red brocade tailcoat. “Happy to see us?” He’s playing to the crowd of reporters. They’re loving it.

Keiichiro sighs. “This really isn’t a good time.” And, more quietly, “You couldn’t wait two days? I have a whole dinner planned.”

“And I’m really looking forward to it, but we’ve got an image to maintain,” Kairi says, just as quietly, and winks at him. Then, loudly again, “We’re only interested in the Collection piece, you know that.”

“What--I’m not going to just give it to you, this is in police custody.”

“Well, if you’re going to be like that...” Kairi leans forward. Keiichiro is fully prepared to toss the Collection piece to Tsukasa or something, but he doesn’t reach for it; he grabs the front of Keiichiro’s jacket.

And kisses him. In front of their teammates, the local police force, and most of the city’s news media. A slow, lingering kiss.

Keiichiro blinks dizzily when Kairi pulls back and zip-lines away into the night without another word. He’s vaguely aware that the reporters are yelling again, which seems like a reasonable reaction. He’s also considering doing some yelling, or possibly chasing Kairi down and making him yell.

Then he realizes his hands are empty, and, because he doesn’t quite have the presence of mind for anything more dignified, roars, “Goddammit, Kairi!”

The cameras are going off again. Keiichiro ignores them, steadfast, collects the shreds of his dignity, and shakes hands with the local officer in charge. “Your people did good work today.”

The officer in charge is staring at him wide-eyed. “Are. Are you all right, Officer Asaka?”

“I’ll be fine. Just a minor setback.”

As he and the others are walking back to the car, one of the reporters shouts, “How long have you been on first-name terms with the phantom thieves?”

Keiichiro continues to ignore them. Tsukasa’s the one who turns around and says, “Their identities have been public record for over a year now, and we’ve been dealing with them for over two. I’d hope we could address them by name occasionally.”

“So what about the kiss?”

That, thankfully, she ignores.

--

Postscript

Jim Carter stops Keiichiro the next morning with some interesting news, and after he’s taken something for his already-growing headache and had two coffees he sends a text to Kairi. [we’re trending on Twitter]

[no way]

And a moment later, [OH MY GOD THERE’S A HASHTAG]

Keiichiro sighs. [fortunately it doesn’t seem to have done our reputation any damage, the public’s more amused than upset]

[why wouldn’t they be, we put on a good show]

[oh no wait there’s another #tag pls don’t google shipping ill explain it to you later]

[Kairi I already know what shipping is, I’ve been proofreading Tsukasa’s Kamen Rider fanfiction since we were 18]

[u what]

[uve been what]

[Tsukasa’s WHAT]

[thepropertylovers]

What Foreigners Really Think of The U.S. Right Now

The other night, after the kiddos went to bed, we decided to watch the second Borat movie that just came out (have you seen it?). It was insane and hilarious all at the same time, but it got me wondering: what do folks who don’t live in the U.S. think of The United States of America right now? What is their perception of us?

So I decided to pose this question on Instagram and wow. Y’all did not hold back. I want to thank everyone who submitted for your candidness and honesty, even if some of these were hard to swallow. It’s important to note that just because these are their opinions of America, it doesn’t mean it is all necessarily true. Regardless, it was interesting to read everyone’s thoughts and get an outsider’s perspective.

We received hundreds of submissions and couldn’t post them all, but below, people from all over the world share what they really think of the United States at the moment.

Leadership is out of touch with reality and messing things up real bad, not just for the U.S. but also for the world. What’s worse is that half the country is being misled successfully. It just shows poorly on the country all over. -Annonymous

Your president is a disaster when it comes to foreign politics and corona. No class, no knowledge. A joke. Very scary to watch. But half of the voters are happy with it. And that is even more scary. Very difficult to understand the hate and ignorance in your society right now. -Mikkel

It’s just weird. Everything basically. I totally understand now why the U.S. is described as '“flawed democracy” in the democracy index. It’s just a crazy system which is not providing equality among people- regarding the vote especially. This system leads to the fact of the two big parties (similar in the UK basically). But democracy is about diversity in opinions and options. Not just two. -Max

The US is more divided than ever. The two parties cannot work together nor do they appear to want to. The government is no longer run by reason, facts, and policy aiming for the betterment of the entire country and or world in the long or medium run; rather it’s instant gratification for the few who benefit from nepotism. Lies and misinformation are used to build a dictatorship hiding in the form of “patriotism”. And those who could act as a check or balance focus on their own personal gain, putting their needs above those of the persons they should be representing. -Joel

I personally don’t think there is a very good atmosphere in the USA, especially right now, Trump’s administration does not protect the American people or the economy. He only cares about himself and his male-white supremacy. The worst of all is that lots of Americans think Trump is actually a good leader (idk why, honestly). But thank God that people are starting to wake up and fight about what they believe. We can see it through BLM protests, feminist movements, and so on, and the whole world is proud about those people fighting for their rights. America was once the land of dreams, but nowadays (with all that is happening) it is even scary to go there. Lots of things have to change and those changes have to start, voting and defending your rights and your beliefs are the first step. Greetings from Spain. -Antonio

The main reasons I can think of are vote suppression/gerrymandering, expensive health care wealth inequality, racism, lack of fun control… -Brian

Definitely find the hypocrisy of the Republicans so annoying, Trump still being in office, the fact that there has been no police reform or justice for Breonna Taylor, the gun laws, and the COVID numbers just to name a few. -Brian

Here in the UK it seems like CARNAGE over there..don’t get me wrong, it’s wild here too but Trump is insane and it’s really odd seeing so many Americans supporting him. -Dan

Really worried about the fact that you might go for 4 more years with Trump and the fact that he’ll for sure contest the results if he loses. Add to this, all the racial violence and in particular the way some policemen act without being condemned by any judge. And finally the pandemic which seems to be even more out of control than in other countries. This is coming from someone who lives in France where we’re going to be under lockdown for the second time since the beginning of the pandemic (2nd lockdown starting tomorrow evening and will last at least until December 1st 😢). -Estelle

To put a long story short, let’s just hope Cheeto doesn’t get reelected otherwise our UK trade deal will be a disaster and we don’t need any more negative influences in the UK around gender and sexual equality.-Christian

I think with this administration, the US has demonstrated how to shipwreck a whole nation economically, ideologically, socially, and politically within a really short period of time. After just 4 years, we’ve come to associate the US with widespread narrow-mindedness, a lack of respect and courtesy to other nations (and minorities in its own country for that matter), short sightedness when it comes to global phenomena like environmentalism or migration patterns, and a celebration (by some at least) of almost barbaric notions of violence, oppression, and backward thinking, all under the camouflage of its constitution and socio-historic heritage. We’ve really admired the Obama administration over here in Europe, which-despite its flaws and shortcomings- has opened up the US to international partnerships and has established an ongoing discourse shaped by mutual respect and politeness…the contrast couldn’t be more pronounced these day…-Sebastian

I look at our Prime Minister and government and then see Trump and think we really could have it so much worse! Vote!! -Ant

As an American living in London, I can tell you that the news coverage here makes the US look like an absolute joke. Mainly due to 45, his lies, his bigotry, and his insane desire to make covid seem as though it’s a falsehood “created by the left” while hundreds of thousands of Americans have ben victimized by this pandemic. What was once seen as a country of opportunity and freedom, is sadly no longer held to that level of greatness in comparison to its neighboring countries. It saddens me because I had plans to move back home within the next year or so, but if the US continues on its path, I can see myself in London for the unforeseeable future. I can’t live in a country where I am seen or believed to be lesser than another because of my sexual preference. I can only hope and pray that this election brings the change we need to be that country of greatness once again. -Rob

Very poor to be honest. And I’m not necessarily [talking about Trump]- I think the immediate reaction is to blame him. Though, he is pretty awful. There was obviously a huge level of social and other problems in the US, and the current administration has exploited them to the breaking point. Whereas more “skilled” past administrations had the ability to leverage those issues for their benefit, but not let it boil over. I actually thought Trump would be a positive for the US and world- in that his incompetence would force other world leaders to step up. Meaning more equity in how disputes etc. are assessed and the US wouldn’t bully smaller nations. I think the US has hit the point in its journey with capitalism that the USSR hit with socialism in the late 80’s that led to its collapse. Does that mean collapse for the US, I don’t know but the system isn’t providing equity and equality for all as it stands. -Paul

Worried but also hopeful for you guys because I don’t think all citizens in America reflect the current administration. It’s been really great to see people voting early and making their voice heard. No matter what happens just know you did what you could in this moment in time. Even though the current administration provides a scary outlook for the future. As long as the current and future generations lead with love, there will hopefully be a brighter future. Love from Canada. -Ajetha

I've been subscribing to all of the US News since the Black Lives Matter Movement commenced and honestly, it made me scared as a Filipino Asian to step foot in the States ever since. I have big dreams of flying over there and probably working there as an immigrant after I finished college. However, when I found out about the racial injustice that is currently ongoing in the country, I became hesistant of still wanting to live there. Although, I'm positive that there are still people like you two that will be open about working immigrants, I really hope that racism, sexism, homophobia and transphobia will end for good among every human beings in the US and also around the world. I do wish and pray that the 2020 US election will make certain amends to the current situation y'all are experiencing because it's getting pretty scary out there. -Harvey I’m an American living overseas working for the US government. I’m trying my hardest to stay overseas so my family and I don’t have to come back to the mess that is the US right now. From politics to COVID, it’s not a good time. While the virus may be surging again in Europe, at least the people comply with the government rules. Sometimes I believe Americans take freedom and liberty a bit too far, especially when it comes to the greater good. -Anonymous

Allthough on social policy the US is no real example for us (I think there is more social ‘security’, more justice, high standards in education for all in most of the EU countries), they always have been a ‘safe haven’ in big international politics. It now feels like ‘they have our back’ doesn’t imply anymore. -Jasper

Well personally I think the country seems in total disarray, instead of focusing on the real issues in the streets both house of the capitol are focused on bashing each other during the election campaign which is a circus due to the sitting POTUS. The obsession with the right to bare arms and the gun culture bewilders most other countries, you have teenagers walking into schools with Assault weapons and yet people still want guns to be available, worst still you ban one type of assault rifle but another just as powerful is kept on sale, it’s plain weird. -Philip

Neither candidate represents their party well. As an outsider looking in, it just baffles me that either of these men could potentially be the leader of the free world...It genuinely feels like worrying times are ahead for the US. -Marc I'm from India and living in Germany at the moment. The race problem in the US is as bad as the class/caste problem in India. Even if I don't have money I can go to a government health center in India. I just had an operation and stayed at the hospital for 18 days here in Germany, I had to pay only 180 Euros, everything else ( the operation and the many tests and scans that followed) was covered by the insurance. When my friends at the US heard about it they were shocked about low the hospital bill. There are really great labs (I'm a researcher) that I would like to work but I have no intentions of working/living in the US for a longer period of time. -Maithy

I think the US has become a joke to the rest of the developed world. Neither candidates running for president are fit to run such a powerful country. I can't help but feel after the election if Trump wins the left will riot and if Biden wins the right will riot. The country might just rip itself apart. American politics has zero empathy and zero morals. Honestly its terrifying. -Andrew

The US has always been a bit confusing to me - the two party system, the focus on religion, the divide in income and possibilities- as well as being the beacon of light in the fight for human rights, the strong personal pride in creating caring societets, the blending of and openeses for ethnicities and cultures... But for a while politics have become not at all about politics, religious beliefs are taking charge in policy work, the wealthier part shows little companion towards the less wealthy, the public spending is way above budget year after year while health care seems to be crazy expensive and not for all. The intrusion of US interest in politics in other countries are blunt to say the least, creating conflict where human lives have no value if they’re not US lives... School shootings that seems to be acted upon as that is part of normal lives, and schools to expensive for even middle class kids to study at... This is a shift in trust and soft power that affects all of us. -Olof

To be honest, I couldn’t come to the US right now, it scares me. The leadership, the gun laws, the violence and the divide of the nation. It sucks, because I love America and have been there 7 times in the last two years from Australia for work... but not anymore. I’m not coming back now until peace wins. -Anonymous

The fact that such a hate filled government is presiding over what is one the greatest countries in the world is scary. And it is seriously mind blowing that out of such a powerful country filled with some of the greatest minds in the world it’s these two men are the best you can do to be your next president. Unbelievable. Seriously unbelievable. -Rachel

I think the orange dude in office is making you guys look bad. But also, good (?). Seeing the black lives matter movement and so many of you stand up to the problems your country faces has been inspiring. One thing our countries have in common is how we are divided into very distinctive opposites sides. I mean, where do all these racists, bigots, utterly, madly conservites people came from? I few like a few years ago things did not seem so much as a boiling pan about to explode. Or maybe they were all hiding and when a lunatic like them rose to power (how that happened still boggles my mind) they all showed their true colors. It’s scary. I hope Trump doesn’t get reelected. Brazilians loooove to imitate americans🙄, so if he gets reelected it makes that much probable that our lunatic will also be in office for four more years. P.S. have you guys watched the show Years and Years from HBO? A really good watch is this election times! ☺️ -Taty

Re. The US atm. Unfortunately your president has made your country a laughing stock around the world and he's destroyed relationships with allies. It's gonna take time to rebuild all of that. He's also moved an entire branch of your government to the far right, even though the majority of the country if left/centr of left. So you've a supreme court that doesn't represent you and it's looking like they're going to try and take away rights from people. You have a healthcare system that doesn't look out for its people and there's this bizarre fear of universal healthcare that seems insane to every other 1st world country. If if Biden wins (and I really hope he does for everyone's sake), there's going to be a lot of work in undoing the damage Trump has done before he can even get into what he wants to do. All the while you've an ultra conservative highest court. There's also the massive political division and the systemic racism. It's a lot. It's not impossible, but it's going to take so much time and people who want it to change. -Ciara

I’ve been sitting here for an hour thinking about your question and there are many different outlooks I could raise so I’ll keep it generic. I’ll start with the elephant in the room known as Covid. Each day, our morning news informs us of what your leaders are doing and daily case numbers in the US. We sit here completely shocked at how your government has let it reach this point. You may have heard that Melbourne has just come out of one of the strictest and longest lock downs in the world. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone to have to do, but I will say, I feel much more comfortable to be able to go to the shops knowing the numbers are at about 2-3 a day instead of in the thousands. I do think that your government does need to address this now, could even be making it compulsory mask wearing. It’s hard for me to comment about your economy as we don’t here much about it, but I will say Trump ‘says’ make America great again, let’s get more jobs, they are pro life, yet how is someone who is prolife not doing anything to stop a virus that is killing people? Isn’t your unemployment rate worse (pre-covid) than what it was when Obama was president? I think as a generic outlook, if change isn’t made in the election, the outlook from a Australian does not look like it would be something you’d want to be apart of. I love America. Have visited a couple of times, even thought about moving there, but at the moment, I’ve never been more thankful to not be there. -Ben

[targetsports]

Knights in White Lycra

Words by Susan Burton

Why a group of foreigners bicycle to Fukushima every year – and what this says about charitable giving in Japan

The Knights ride out from Tokyo on the Friday evening bullet train, their bicycles dismantled and stowed in the obligatory rinko carry-on bags. They overnight in Takasaki city in Gunma Prefecture and the following morning they rise early to begin their quest – to ride 500 kilometres in four days to the Aiikuen Children’s Home in Fukushima prefecture and to raise money for the 72 children who live there.

In the peloton this year there are 42 riders from 14 different countries, ranging in age from 23 to 63. Twenty-six are attempting the ride for the first time. They are grouped together in seven teams of six, by experience, ability and willingness to stop for lunch. Each group is led by an able, veteran Knight.

Rob Williams (53, works in finance) is the Knights’ spiritual leader. In 2012, he and a group of fellow British expatriates were slumped disconsolately in the Hobgoblin pub in Tokyo staring at their beer guts. They concluded that they either needed to stop drinking or take up some form of exercise. They chose cycling because, “Brits are good at sport that involves sitting down.” There was also a more serious side to their quest. Following the Great East Japan Earthquake and nuclear disaster in March 2011, several of them had made repeated trips into the disaster area delivering emergency aid and public donations. But a year on, many places still lacked even basic necessities. One of these was Minamisoma, a city 25 kilometres north of the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant. Minamisoma was partially destroyed by the tsunami and most of the surviving residents were forced to relocate outside the 30-kilometre mandated radiation evacuation zone. In April 2012, when the zone was reduced to 20 kilometres, some residents had been allowed to return but many still had no electricity, running water or medical facilities.  

That evening in the Hobgoblin pub, Rob and his friends decided they would cycle to Minamisoma to raise money to supply the residents of the city’s temporary accommodation with food and drinking water. Later in a karaoke bar someone stood up and sang the Moody Blues song, and the Knights in White Lycra (KIWL) were born. Their motto: get fit and give back.

Rob is also one of the ride’s team leaders this year. His team are strictly A to B cyclists, speeding to their destination in the shortest possible time. For lunch he allows them eight minutes to grab rice balls and Pocari Sweat drinks from the local convenience store.

Andy Abbey’s group prefer to stop for a sit-down lunch at a café or roadside noodle bar. Andy (British, 47, works in management consultancy) joined the Knights in its second year. Hours after the earthquake, a Facebook page called Foreigner Volunteers (now Foreign Volunteers Japan) appeared calling for contributions and helpers. Their first donation was a case of baked beans. When they had filled six two-tonne trucks, Andy and several other foreigners drove north. Recalls Andy, “Everything was just flat. It was terrifying.” The tsunami had swept away houses, cars and people up to 5 kilometres inland and 200 kilometres all the way up the east coast of Japan. Compounding the catastrophe was the nuclear radiation which was spewing from three exploded reactors and spreading unchecked on the spring winds and coastal currents. “It was very obvious that this was an unmanageable situation,” says Andy. Some foreigners went north only once, too traumatised by what they had seen to go back. Andy made repeated trips to the disaster areas. But he wanted to do more. He’s now a member of the KIWL committee.

Miho Inosaki (Malaysian-Japanese, works in public relations) is in Andy’s group. At 23, she is the youngest and least experienced rider and one of only five women in the peloton. She first encountered the Knights when she was tasked by her company Custom Media, one of the Knights’ sponsors, with filming their annual promotional video. Before becoming a ‘Knightess’, she had never cycled before and she averages one crash every third time she gets in the saddle. Within five minutes of picking up her new bicycle for this year’s ride she collided with a motorcycle. (During the ride, she somersaults over her handlebars and hits her head on a fence post.)

Egon Boettcher (New Zealander, 48, works in banking) leads another group and plans the Knight’s route, a difficult task due to Japan’s mountainous terrain and the fact that the ride takes place during the rainy season. Japan also has the world’s highest incidence of earthquakes, but the Knights have been fortunate. Earthquakes tend to strike in areas Egon has just left. This year, a magnitude 6 rattles Niigata two days after the Knights’ departure.

In previous years, the Knights had started their quest in Nihonbashi in central Tokyo but with heavily congested streets and numerous traffic lights it took more than three hours to clear the metropolis. Now they take the train and begin in another prefecture. This also enables them to vary the journey every year and to make it a challenge worth sponsoring. Tokyo is only 300 kilometres from the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, a distance that has been imprinted on every Tokyo resident’s mind since the plant’s meltdown. (By comparison, Chernobyl is over 2,000 kilometres from London.)

On the first day, the Knights cycle from Takasaki to Yuzawa in Niigata prefecture, a distance of 55 kilometres in 27-degree Celsius heat under a sun unobstructed by a single cloud. The journey takes them through the Japanese countryside in early summer, past flooded rice fields sprouting green shoots and to a height of 1,200 metres, in sight of mountains from which the snow has yet to melt.

They spend the first night in the town of Yuzawa, in a mountainous region of Niigata prefecture known as ‘snow country’. Their lodgings, a resort called Twin Towers, is a complex of privately-owned apartments developed during the economic boom in the 1980s. More than two decades into an economic recession, many of the owners are unable to sell and now rent out the rooms to cover exorbitant maintenance charges. There are few guests in green season. Andy appears to have the 11th floor to himself. Egon rattles round a duplex penthouse that he learns was refurbished for the Emperor and Empress during the 1998 winter Olympics in nearby Nagano (but they never stayed there). “We never saw a soul who wasn’t with us,” says Egon. “It was like the Shining.”

On the second day, they pedal further north to Niigata city on the Sea of Japan along routes lined with lush spring greenery and across wide bridges spanning streams that will swell into torrents in a matter of hours. With the rainy season approaching, a searing heat reflects off the tarmacked roads and a thick, stifling humidity envelops the riders.

Rainy season arrives on the morning of the third day, bringing 50-kmh head and cross winds. Three riders are blown off their bikes on the 150-kilometre journey to Aizu Wakamatsu, where the riders ease their aching limbs in the steaming onsen (volcanic hot spring). In case of accidents, injuries and punctures, the riders are followed by two support cars. Padded cycle shorts and ‘bum butter’ are essential on the road. But a soak in a hot spring eases the muscles at the end of the day. And that’s one good thing about having so few women on the ride, notes Miho. There’s always plenty of room in the women’s onsen.

On the fourth and final day, the winds have blown themselves out but the rain continues to trickle down the backs of windcheaters and seep into microfibre shoes. The morning begins with a long climb to a plateau on which sits Lake Inawashiro, the fourth-largest lake in Japan, also known as the Heavenly Mirror Lake because of the glass-like clearness of the water. The sun reappears just as the riders reach the Aiikuen Children’s Home which is situated south of Fukushima city and, gallingly for the exhausted riders, at the summit of one of the ride’s steepest hills. As they round the final bend, the excited children are waiting to greet them, waving flags of the Knights’ home countries and stretching out their hands for high fives. “It was just a wonderful moment,” says Miho later. “Just this overwhelming feeling of emotion where you went, ‘Oh my god, that’s why we do it.’” The riders dismount and the children, aged from 2 to 18, rush up. They want to know all about the Knights’ road bicycles. One little boy tries on Andy’s cycling helmet. “He decided I was his best friend and would show me the children’s home,” Andy recalls. The riders are led by the children into the gymnasium where they sit cross-legged on the floor to listen to a speech of thanks.

Aiikuen was founded in 1893 by Uryū Iwako (1829-1897), an orphaned daughter from a merchant family who dedicated her life to the improvement of living conditions for ordinary people. Situated 49 kilometres away from Daiichi, the orphanage is outside the evacuation zone. But because it stands on a hill facing the plant, when the reactors blew, its seven hectares of thickly-forested grounds – sports field, campsite and lawn – were coated in caesium-137. The prefectural government paid to have Aiikuen cleaned, hosing down the modern concrete buildings, removing grass and chopping down trees. But hotspots remained and for several years after the disaster Aiikuen staff (like many parents in the Tohoku region) limited the children’s outdoor playtime. They also tested food for contamination and regularly checked the children’s health. The immediate danger may have passed but Aiikuen still needs more support, which the government is slow to provide.

Nationwide, only ten per cent of approximately 30,000 children in care are orphans. The rest have been removed from neglected or abusive homes or given up by families who are unable to care for them financially. Fostering and adoption remain rare in Japan because parents must give legal permission for their child to be cared for by someone else and for cultural reasons – predominantly loss of face – they are unlikely to agree to this. Adoption is registered on the koseki (the family register) which is a publicly available document, and the stigma of having an adoption in the family bloodline (suggesting an unplanned pregnancy or a lack of financial stability) can affect job and marriage prospects. Less than ten per cent of children in welfare are fostered or adopted. Most remain within the welfare system long-term (just under half live in children’s homes for more than five years), sometimes with little or no parental contact. They are termed ‘throwaway children’, trapped in a legal limbo until they must leave at 17 or 18.

The attitude of some Japanese towards marginalised and disadvantaged groups is not always sympathetic, and the needs of children in care homes is not an issue that many Japanese wish to look at too closely. Says Andy, “I think there’s a blanket assumption here that the government takes care of everything. That’s good in some respects because generally the government kind of does but when something goes wrong – and the Tohoku earthquake was a perfect example – the government literally couldn’t take care of everything. No government could take care of that. It was impossible.” This is why KIWL has focused its money-raising efforts on children’s charities, in particular grassroots organisations for whom even a small amount of money can make a big difference.

In the gymnasium, the children present the Knights with certificates of appreciation printed by Aiikuen’s Digital Citizenship Club on its laser printer. With little or no parental support, a university education is impossible for young people coming out of the care system and they risk falling into low level work in factories or the sex industry. One goal of Aiikuen is to educate the children in skills that may enable them to find fulfilling jobs when they leave, particularly in the technology industry. During the ceremony, word arrives that the Knights’ cycle ride has raised just over ten million Yen (£75,000) for YouMeWe, the charity which supports the home. It will help to pay for more computing equipment and training in digital skills such as coding and video editing.

Most of the ten million Yen comes from corporate sponsorship. The Knights’ major sponsors are the international companies for which many of the riders work. This year, alongside the Knights’ logo (a plumed helmet and a shield depicting linked hands) there are 26 sponsor names on the riders’ jackets including Netflix, World Family, Land Rover, Boyd & Moore Executive Search and Allied Pickfords, companies which reflect the transient nature of expatriate life in Japan. In western countries, sponsoring someone to do a sporting challenge is a recognised way of raising money for charity. Egon’s first sponsored event at age 8 was cycling round and round a school track on a Raleigh bicycle. But in Japan there is no concept of the sponsored event. When Miho asked friends to sponsor her they were confused. “I got questions like, ‘Why would I pay you to do sports?’” In Japan, charitable giving more commonly takes the form of volunteering in the local community and doing chores – such as managing rubbish collections, street cleaning and watching over elderly residents – for your neighbourhood association. “It’s not that there’s no charitable spirit,” says Andy. “It’s just expressed in a different way.” 3/11 was a disaster on an unprecedented scale and many Japanese reacted immediately, collecting donations from friends and neighbours and forming residents’ groups to travel to the disaster area to provide volunteer labour. But paying foreigners to bicycle there was perplexing. Toru Akiyama, one of the five Japanese riders and at 63 the group’s oldest Knight, had to work hard for the money he raised from friends and colleagues. “He had to explain individually, this is what a sponsored event is,” says Miho. One result of the Fukushima disaster is that the number of charities seems to be increasing along with a shift in understanding about the many ways that donations can be raised. The 500-kilometre sponsored ride is not the only sporting challenge the Knights take on. There are marathons, pub quizzes, golf, futsal and even motorcycling. Once a year Andy organises a walk around the Imperial Palace and gives participants a KIWL t-shirt in return for a donation. “And for Japanese people that’s much more manageable psychologically than sponsoring Egon to ride 500 kilometres,” admits Rob.

In the days after the disaster, it was noticed by the Japanese media that some foreigners (known as ‘gaijin’ in Japanese) were attempting to leave, heading straight to Narita airport which was – ironically – marginally closer to the nuclear power plant. They were termed ‘flyjin’ and accused of ditching Japan in its time of need. In fact, just as many Japanese fled to southern parts of Japan where they had relatives. Most foreigners didn’t have that option. And many, like Andy and other future Knights, were driving in the opposite direction, right into the disaster area and risking their health, if not their lives, in the process. Andy says he never breached the 30-kilometre evacuation zone around the power plant. He drove around it. Nevertheless, he and the others were aware of the implications of a sudden rainfall or a change in the direction of the wind. Andy also took the iodine tablets the British embassy were offering. “He snorted them recreationally,” jokes Egon. The Knights are a good-humoured bunch but there is no denying the dangers present during those first weeks. While tourism (particularly foreign tourism) to the Tohoku region has since recovered, it should not be forgotten that the half-life of caesium-137 is 35 years. Wandering in the Aiikuen grounds after the ceremony the Knights come across a large radiation monitoring station. A nearby golf course appears deserted.

The Knights’ first sponsored ride, from Tokyo to Minamisoma in 2013, was abandoned when for the first time in ten years the region was hit by a blizzard. The highway was closed and several of the riders suffered hypothermic symptoms. Six of the original ten Knights returned two months later to finish the ride. That year they raised 2.7 million Yen (£20,000). Year on year they have doubled the number of riders and consequently the amount raised. In subsequent years, they have cycled to and on behalf of several different children’s charities in the Tohoku area. By riding to the charitable organisation the Knights can see first-hand where their money is going, which Rob observes has a greater impact on the riders. There are tears and, when the Knights move on to a new charity, some riders continue their support for a place they have visited. For two years, the Knights rode for Place to Grow (a charity supporting children and their families in Minamisanriku, a town that was 95 per cent destroyed by the tsunami). Andy and Egon continue to act as cycling Santas for them, delivering gifts to the children at Christmas. The Knights’ support for Mirai no Mori (a charity which offers American summer camps to disadvantaged children) has been maintained by BNP Paribas, a KIWL sponsor.

KIWL is a small group with a big impact. They have raised 62.3 million Yen (£469,000) since they first came together to “get fit and give back.” Says Miho, “The beautiful scenery, the challenge, the camaraderie, the drinking are all very nice bonuses but nothing really compares. Even the sensation of knowing that you’ve cycled 500 kilometres doesn’t come close to what you feel when you see all those kids look so excited to see you.” And Rob Williams has achieved another goal. ‘Fat Rob’ (as the others jokingly call him) has lost 10 kilogrammes since that drunken evening in the Hobgoblin.

[mainly-kpop]

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Hello! This is my first really long series! (well, long in my mind, maybe not for y’all!) This is 21 chapters of smut, angst, and fluff for weeks. I hope you enjoy it, my ask box is always open feel free to drop by, send me your thoughts, feelings, questions and requests! I’m always here for you guys, so without further ado! 

Chapter one.  Pirate!BTS Maid!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping? Talks of blood, anger, dirty pirates and one bitch of a princess.   Summary: You had always wondered about pirates, about a life outside of these walls. On your 23rd birthday, you would finally find out what both were really like.  word count: 2.4k

Sometimes, he couldn’t believe his luck, and other times, he couldn’t believe how stupid and unfortunate he was. He was lucky to have this ship, to have a crew he trusted and who trusted him back. The seven of them, ‘till the seas rip them apart. Himself, the captain, in charge of everything. That didn’t stop him however, from asking them for their input. Where they wanted to sail to next, where they wanted to ambush this time around. Their opinion mattered to him, that’s why they trusted him so openly. With most captains, they were very demanding. More like dictators, the boys appreciated how Yoongi didn’t do anything unless it was unanimous. He always took their opinion into consideration, never doing anything they didn’t wanted. Some of the boys came from worse places, seeing Yoongi’s ship as an escape. A haven.   

Taehyung, his first mate, his right-hand man. His best friend. Without him, he would be lost. Taehyung helped him with far more than expected, he kept him level headed and task orientated. If something happened on the ship, he made sure the captain knew instantly. Big or small, he made sure he was aware before the crew even knew themselves. Taehyung was perceptive, usually overseeing most things. It may look like he wasn’t doing anything, or not working as hard as the rest. In reality, Yoongi knew there were hundreds of things running through the boy’s mind on a daily. If something was to happen to Yoongi, he had no worries intrusting everything to Taehyung. The latter would be nervous, taking on a whole ship and crew was a big task. As long as he had Hoseok though, he would be okay. He was aware he used him as a comfort blanket, but he couldn’t help it. Hoseok was good at everything, and Taehyung couldn’t help but idolise him.

Hoseok was his second in line, his quartermaster. In charge of food, drink and medical stocks. He also took care of punishments. Hoseok had the most intimidating look when he was angry, usually making intruders shit themselves on the spot. Ironic considering how Hoseok found himself on this ship. Although he only really had two duties, he made it his job to keep the ship running smooth for the captain. He floated between sections, making sure the cook had enough food, the surgeon had enough supplies. He made sure the sailing masters were doing their duties and knew where they were going. He also reported back to the first hand and captain about the goings on. Everyone looked up to, and held Hoseok close, which he loved very much. Hoseok took it upon himself to know everyone’s strengths and weaknesses, able to target anyone if they turned on him. That went for crew and enemies. He didn’t like having to know these things, even after he trusted the crew with his whole heart. It was just something he had to do, to keep himself safe. 

His sailing masters, Namjoon and Jimin. Namjoon took charge of maps, loving sketching out the new islands they find and naming them stupid little names. He knew they all had names legally, but Yoongi had told him early on he could be as creative as he wanted. If he wanted to rename islands and make it more personal, then he could do it. They were discovering new areas every time they set sail, and it was all thanks to Namjoon. They didn’t just set out to murder and rob, they really tried to avoid the whole murder part entirely. They travelled, discovered the world and every little nook and cranny it offered. Jimin was in charge of direction, his trusty compass held in his left hand, the helm in his right. He steered with cocky confidence that made Yoongi roll his eyes on the daily. Regardless, he would trust no one more than these two, they got them where they needed to be with minor hiccups.

The on-board surgeon didn’t do much, unless the task had gone tits up. On the irregular basis, a member of the crew would get hurt. Stabbed or something and he would need to patch them up. Mostly though, Jungkook took stock, giving out medication for common colds and sickness. It was a boring job and 90% of his time he would find himself irritating the rest of the crew. They only put up with it because he was the youngest, still being a child at heart, they understood his boredom. Also, if they did get seriously hurt, their lives were in his hands. 

Last but not least, Jin, the most valuable member in Yoongi’s opinion. The chef. He never had much to say regarding him, just that he was incredible and always managed to fill their bellies. Whether it was a feast of sorts, or the usual rationing of food. He managed to make it filling enough so they didn’t feel disappointed. If you were disappointed in the meal, he felt he hadn’t done his job correctly. They were never hungry, and they all made sure to compliment him as much as possible. 

‘Okay boys, you know the plan today yes?’ The crew all gathered on deck, Jimin letting the ship sail its course for the time being.

You stood in her room, holding the heavy materials for the Royal dressers. They slipped the corset over her torso, tightening the strings with every breath she took. You let go of the puffy under skirt, the many layers causing the fabric to still touch you. Regardless of the princess being 4 feet away from yourself. You could only imagine being able to afford that much fabric. Your dress consisted of white and pale blue, stained slightly by years, upon years of use. It was ripped at the bottom, and the fabric felt coarse against your soft flesh. Nothing to royalty, but you could never really envision the princess wearing anything bar silk. The dressing maid took the silk fabric out of your hand, instantly you missed the feeling of the fabric between your fingertips. Really, it was a beautiful dress, but what else would you expect for a royal birthday, the last birthday she would have as a princess. The dress was a pale pink, stitched into the fabric was intricate detailing of gold. It was slipped easily over the princesses’ head, buttoned and tied tightly around her small waist. You never envied the princess, no, you more pitied her. Groomed from her child years to take the throne, it was never something you could see yourself doing. It wasn’t worth all the money and silk in the world.

‘Did you hear of the pirates two islands over ma’am?’ One of the dressing maids asked the princess, she was never one for idol chit chat. That was something you admired of her. You on the other hand, had your interest piqued at the talk of pirates.

‘Refrain from that poppycock in my presence dear, you know how I feel of such idiocy.’ The older maid rolled her eyes, kneeling for the princess to slip her foot in her shoe.

‘Refrain from that poppycock.’ the woman mocked, a small smile spreading on the princesses’ face. ‘As I remember, you were quite fond of pirates in your younger days.’ The older maid had been with the princess since she was but a child, taking care of her when her mother wouldn’t. She was the only woman who had a right to talk to the princess like the young child she still saw her as.

‘Yes, in my younger days Eleanor, that is not how I am to behave now.’ She replied shortly. Exiting her room, followed closely by two of the four maids.

‘What about you my love? How do you feel about pirates?’ The old woman asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

‘The princess is the only stowaway we are taking. I don’t want to see any one-night stands, do I make myself clear?’ The captain spoke, walking his way across the deck, back and forth. The boys just smirked at each other, nodding regardless. The younger boys were bad for bringing random girls onto the ship, dropping them off at the next island once they had their fill. It’s not like the captain didn’t shoot his shot with them, it’s just he was sick of these girls freeloading. They always managed to pick the girls who refused to work for a couple days. Too scared to break a nail.

‘YES captain!’ They chanted together, Yoongi smiled, stopping in front of them.

‘Jimin, Namjoon and Hoseok, go for the Princess. I have a feeling she will put up a fight. Taehyung find gold, as much as you can. Jin, grab some foods and drink, god knows we need a feast with some alcohol. And Jungkook-‘

‘Medical supplies, I know. Don’t worry.’ He smiled a reassuring smile. Yoongi nodded, waving the boys off. They docked slightly away from shore, climbing in the small boat and rowing to the docks. Yoongi stayed behind, after all, if something was to happen the captain goes down with the ship not the crew.

You stood once again in the princesses’ room, however, this time you stood alone, settling her into her bed. Closing the curtains, you smiled, the streetlight lighting up the small town below you. You could see people walking around, smiling and laughing. Drunk young people, stumbling into each other and holding onto each other for support. Old couples, enjoying the moonlight and quiet of the usual busy town. 

‘What is taking you so long? I wish to sleep.’ Came her voice from behind you, blowing out the small candle in your hand you apologised. Taking one look back out of the window, your eye caught something horrible. Something you wished you had never seen.

‘Honestly, what are you looking at?!’ She muttered, climbing out of bed, before you could stop her, she was behind you watching the same scene as yourself. Pirates, 6 of them to be exact. It didn’t seem like much, but they were all coming to one place. The Palace.

‘Princess, take off your night dress.’ You spoke calmly, far calmer than you should be for a moment like this. Why you were willing to sacrifice yourself for a spoilt brat like herself was unknown to you. It was something you felt you had to do. Fear didn’t pump through your veins like you thought it might, you were ashamed to admit it felt more like excitement. 

‘Are you crazy?! There’s no way in hell I’m taking this off. Do you know how much this cost, how much silk is-‘

‘DO YOU WANT TO DIE?! They aren’t coming for me, the only person who they could possibly want right now, is you. Take the damn dress off.’ She thought it over for a second, the door downstairs being slammed against the Palace walls was the last straw. She shrugged the dress off quickly, as you shrugged yours off too.

‘Put that on and hide in your closet, quickly.’ You muttered in a hushed tone, she tiptoed ran to the closet, shutting herself in, assumingly hiding in a deep corner somewhere. You slipped the silk night dress over your head, for a second enjoying the feeling against your skin. This is what wealth feels like, you concluded. Running to the window you tried to make it look like you were trying to get away, the door sprang open, three men standing in her doorway.

‘Well, well, well. Hello angel.’ One man spoke, smile oddly pretty for a pirate. In the fairy tales you were always told they were ugly men. With three teeth in their entire mouth, breaths that smelt like death and curses worse than that. Fat men, covered in blood and oozed a horrible odour. Hooks for hands and sticks for legs, hair long and matted together. However, coming face to face with them, you could squash those tales to dust. They had pretty faces and nice smiles. They looked kind, almost attractive. They weren’t covered in blood, despite having to fight a few people to get in here. Did they actually kill anyone? They didn’t smell bad, if anything you took a sniff of the room, nose filled with a sweet scent.

‘We don’t want this to turn into a blood bath, just come quietly with us. We will cause no one any harm.’ His voice was calming, dimples poking through the dirt of his face. When was the last time they had a shower? Pirate ships don’t have showers... so why did they not smell like the tales foretold? You reach your hand out and latch it with his. His skin surprisingly soft to the touch. You would think the skin would be damaged or callous.

‘That‘a girl. Make one single cry for help and I’ll get Hoseok here to gag you.’ Reflex made you gulp in fear, Hoseok smiling to the left of you, he didn’t look like someone to torture another person... Some maids and guards had seen you leave with the pirates, you giving them a look so they wouldn’t say anything. They tried to fight, to get you back like they would for the princess, but to no avail. The pirates never tried to kill, just fought with their fists until you were all safely far enough away.  

‘Took your time. That her?’ One of the men at the boat questioned, looking you up and down. You felt small under his gaze, moving your eyes from his to the very small boat beside him. The rowing boat had food and gold on too, along with 7 bodies. The quicker you got to this stupid ship, the better. You needed to wait a while before you told them anything. You couldn’t risk them going back, finding the actual princess.

You let them sail for at least an hour before you spoke at all, much to their dismay. The first words you spoke to them had them grunting in anger, the tall boy with dimples kicking the pillar beside you. They were angry, not able to complete one task properly. Hoseok shook his head, looking down at you, maybe he did look like someone to torture another… 

‘I’m not the princess.’ You uttered, just loud enough for them to hear. The boy with a deep voice growled, grabbing your arm and dragging you to a little door.

‘Hey! What are you doing?!’ He didn’t reply, knocking on the door instead, a lazy voice shouted a small ‘enter’ before the door flew open.

‘Captain, we have a problem.’

[blackkudos]

Giancarlo Esposito

Giancarlo Giuseppe Alessandro Esposito (Italian pronunciation: [dʒaŋˈkarlo dʒuˈzɛppe alesˈsandro eˈspɔːzito]; born April 26, 1958) is an Italian-American actor and director. He has played Gus Fring on the AMC show Breaking Bad and also plays the character on Better Call Saul, a role for which he won the Best Supporting Actor in a Drama Series Award at the 2012 Critics' Choice Television Awards and was nominated for an Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama Series at the 2012 Primetime Emmy Awards and again at the 2019 Primetime Emmy Awards. He appeared as Moff Gideon in the live-action Star Wars series The Mandalorian on Disney+ which premiered in 2019.

He has appeared in Spike Lee films such as Do the Right Thing, School Daze, and Mo' Better Blues. His feature film appearances include Fresh, Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man, The Usual Suspects, and King of New York. He has played Tom Neville in the NBC series Revolution and Sidney Glass / Magic Mirror on ABC's Once Upon a Time. He has had roles in two Netflix original series: The Get Down, wherein he portrays Pastor Ramon Cruz, and Dear White People, which he narrates. He also voiced and portrayed "The Dentist" in the video game Payday 2.

Early life

Giancarlo Giuseppe Alessandro Esposito was born in Copenhagen, the son of Giovanni Esposito aka John C. Esposito (1931–2002), an Italian stagehand and carpenter from Naples, and Elizabeth Foster aka Leesa Foster (1926–2017), an African-American opera and nightclub singer from Alabama.

When Esposito was six, his family moved from Copenhagen, Denmark to Manhattan, New York. He attended Elizabeth Seton College in New York and earned a two-year degree in radio and television communications.

Career

Esposito made his Broadway debut at age eight, playing a slave child opposite Shirley Jones in the short-lived musical Maggie Flynn (1968), set during the New York Draft Riots of 1863. He was also a member of the youthful cast of the Stephen Sondheim-Harold Prince collaboration Merrily We Roll Along, which closed with 16 performances and 56 previews in 1981.

During the 1980s, Esposito appeared in films such as Taps, Maximum Overdrive, King of New York, and Trading Places. He also performed in TV shows such as Miami Vice and Spenser: For Hire. He played J. C. Pierce, a cadet in the 1981 movie Taps.

In 1988 he landed his breakout role as the leader ("Dean Big Brother Almighty") of the black fraternity "Gamma Phi Gamma" in director Spike Lee's film School Daze, exploring color relations at black colleges. Over the next four years, Esposito and Lee collaborated on three other movies: Do the Right Thing, Mo' Better Blues, and Malcolm X.During the 1990s Esposito appeared in the acclaimed indie films Night on Earth, Fresh and Smoke, as well as its sequel Blue in the Face. He also appeared in the mainstream film Reckless with Mia Farrow, and Waiting to Exhale starring Whitney Houston and Angela Bassett. In 1995 Esposito was featured in a music video "California" by French superstar Mylene Farmer, directed by Abel Ferrara.

Esposito played FBI agent Mike Giardello on the TV crime drama Homicide: Life on the Street. That role drew from both his African American and Italian ancestry. He played this character during the show's seventh and final season. Mike's estranged father, shift lieutenant Al Giardello, is portrayed as subject to racism, something Esposito's character practiced in School Daze. Another multiracial role was as Sergeant Paul Gigante in the television comedy, Bakersfield P.D..

In 1997 Esposito played the film roles of Darryl in Trouble on the Corner and Charlie Dunt in Nothing to Lose. Other TV credits include NYPD Blue, Law & Order, The Practice, New York Undercover, and Fallen Angels: Fearless.

Esposito has portrayed drug dealers (Fresh, Breaking Bad, King of New York, Better Call Saul), policemen (The Usual Suspects, Derailed), political radicals (Bob Roberts, Do the Right Thing), and a demonic version of the Greek God of Sleep Hypnos from another dimension (Monkeybone). In 2001, he played Cassius Marcellus Clay, Sr. in Ali, and Miguel Algarín, friend and collaborator of Nuyorican poet Miguel Piñero, in Piñero.

In 2006 Esposito starred in Last Holiday as Senator Dillings, alongside Queen Latifah and Timothy Hutton. Also in 2006, he played an unsympathetic detective named Esposito in the 2005 film Hate Crime. The film explores homophobia.

Esposito played Robert Fuentes, a Miami businessman with shady connections, on the UPN television series South Beach. He has appeared in New Amsterdam and CSI: Miami. In Feel the Noise (2007), he played ex-musician Roberto, the Puerto Rican father of Omarion Grandberry's character, aspiring rap star "Rob".

He made his directorial debut with Gospel Hill (2008); he also produced the film and starred in it.

New York theater credits for Esposito include The Me Nobody Knows, Lost in the Stars, Seesaw, and Merrily We Roll Along. In 2008 he appeared on Broadway as Gooper in an African American production of Tennessee Williams' Pulitzer Prize-winning drama Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, directed by Debbie Allen and starring James Earl Jones, Phylicia Rashad, Anika Noni Rose, and Terrence Howard.

From 2009 to 2011, Esposito appeared in seasons 2 through 4 of the AMC drama Breaking Bad, as Gus Fring, the head of a New Mexico-based methamphetamine drug ring. In the fourth season, he was the show's primary antagonist. He received critical acclaim for this role. He won the Best Supporting Actor in a Drama award at the 2012 Critics' Choice Television Awards and was nominated for an Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama Series award at the 2012 Primetime Emmy Awards, but lost to co-star Aaron Paul.

He appeared in the film Rabbit Hole (2010).

Esposito appeared in the first season of the ABC program Once Upon a Time, which debuted in October 2011. He portrayed the split role of Sidney, a reporter for The Daily Mirror in the town of Storybrooke, Maine, who is the Magic Mirror, possessed by The Evil Queen in a parallel fairy tale world.

Esposito appeared in Revolution as Major Tom Neville, a central character who kills Ben Matheson in the pilot. He escorts a captured Danny to the capital Philadelphia of the Monroe Republic.

Esposito also appeared in Community as a guest star for the episode entitled "Digital Estate Planning". He performed again in the fourth season, in the episode titled "Paranormal Parentage". Esposito has additionally appeared in a video of the action role-playing sci-fi first-person shooter game Destiny, as well as plays The Dentist, a non-playable story character, in the game Payday 2.

He has joined the DC Universe Animated Original Movies series. He played Ra's al Ghul in Son of Batman and Black Spider in Batman: Assault on Arkham. He had a recurring role in the first season of The Get Down on Netflix. In 2017, Esposito reprised his role as Gus Fring in the Breaking Bad prequel series, Better Call Saul.

In 2016, Esposito voiced Akela in the film The Jungle Book, which was directed by Jon Favreau. Esposito and Favreau would work together once again in the web series The Mandalorian in which Esposito appears in a starring role, while Favreau acts as an executive producer for the series and as its writer.He plays the role of NY congressman Adam Clayton Powell Jr. in the 2019 Epix series Godfather of Harlem.

Personal life

Esposito married Joy McManigal in 1995; they later divorced. He has four daughters.

[trh-thesussexes]

Michelle Obama’s Interview by HRH The Duchess of Sussex