#guilty crown layouts

[covenofthearticulate]

Ash please I am begging you for the detailed version of your Louis’ Room at Trinity Gate headcanons 🫢 I gotta know it ALL

HI HELLO OKAY LET'S FUCKING DO THIS

so the thing about Louis' rooms at Trinity Gate is that I absolutely believe they're a bit of a cluster fuck. And that is 100% on purpose. The rest of the mansion is so meticulously designed and so incredibly ornate, that Louis' room is purposefully a lot more simple in comparison (it is not actually simple by any means— when I say simple I mostly mean that there's no insane baroque murals on the ceiling or intricately patterned wallpaper or mountains of crown molding on every wall).

Louis' bedroom is his only real sanctuary in the house where he's not expected to be the Head of Household or the Gracious Host. It's also the only room that won't give him immediate Sensory Overload on the nights when the new blood makes everything feel Too Much. So all that being said: I imagine Louis' room is still an interior design dream come true, it's filled with lots of modern luxuries and is very rich, but at the same time it's the most lived in room in the house, so it's cluttered and messy and just very weird looking!!

OKAY LET'S DIVE IN:

Honestly I'd be remiss if I didn't start off by just dropping in some inspo pics from some of my favorite scenic design of all time, from Only Lovers Left Alive because I think Eve's bedroom and Adam's parlour both radiate Louis Vibes

like, look at all of her BOOKS!!! they're everywhere lmfao, the room is so big but it feels so crowded and intimate and even though she's alone on the bed/on the floor she doesn't feel lonely. it's a perfect little nest, and I definitely think Louis is guilty of leaving piles and piles of books around his room just because he likes the feeling of being surrounded by them. those are his comfort Dostoyevsky's.

At the same time, Adam's place is also just so painfully Louis to me with all the clutter from across the centuries:

like the furniture is beautiful and there was clear aesthetic intention once upon a time, but it's so overrun with shit...there are record crates, but also a walkman and headphones on the coffee table...there's a tv remote with no tv?? there's a fucking candelabra on the middle of the table? I just love it so much, it feels very Louis to me because in my mind even when he's mentally doing okay, Louis strikes me as one of those people who will keep lots of shit lying around.

He's not a material person in the way Lestat is, but sometimes it just doesn't really occur to him that he can just throw stuff away, and also I think he's really fascinated and sentimental about certain Human Things. Like I've said this before, but I've always headcanoned that he likes to keep all the slips of paper and makeshift bookmarks he finds in his secondhand books— occasionally Armand will organize them into a pile or tuck them into a drawer, but otherwise that kind of stuff you'll find scattered about Louis' bedside table, dresser top, and and writing desk.

ANYWAY so at Trinity Gate I think Louis' room itself is surprisingly small, and that's on purpose too. it's meant to be something intimate, so really the only furniture is the bed, a writing desk, some bedside tables, and maybe a small plush armchair for him to sit and read in. a lot of the design and layout is inspired by his familiar late 18th century style, but with a much more modern touch.

I know for a FACT Louis has a fancy four-poster bed, and it's a queen, not a king. He doesn't like all that extra space, he only needs enough for him and Armand to be comfortable in (space gets tight when Lestat sleeps over, but that's okay).

The bedding itself probably isn't too ornate— maybe a sage or navy colored duvet and matching pillow set. No patterns or anything fancy on the bedding, just one straight color. Hanging from the four posters are drapes that Louis absolutely utilizes when he wants a little Extra Privacy. It's also something he's used to from his mortal days (re: sleeping with mosquito netting in louisiana) so it's just muscle memory for him to let down the drapes once he knows he's going to be settling in for the evening.

For reference, I imagine something similar to the structure on the left, with the bedding set on the right

Actually the photo on the right is very similar to how I picture other aspects of Louis' room: the bookshelves in the wall, the cool gem toned walls, accented with a bit of crown molding but nothing too ornate.

I also love the idea of Louis only having a single painting decorating the wall, but I've always liked to imagine that it's a piece that Armand had made for him, hand-painted as a birthday or anniversary gift. Louis hangs it right above his bed and likes to stare up at it upon waking in the early evening.

And don't even THINK of bringing in overhead lighting into his room!!!! He NEEDS yellow gaslight sconce things on his wall!!

okay and lastly, I like to think that even though his room is quite small, he does have spaces carved out for all his lovers. Lestat likes to drape himself dramatically on the little ottoman at the foot of the bed and hang with his hair down as he talks for hours with Louis. Armand likes to perch on top of the writing desk like a cat, toying with all the little trinkets Louis has there, or occasionally flipping through his journals and books just to scribble little love notes in the margins.

Sorry I've gone on for too long but YEAH thinking about character's spaces is just such an interesting way to get to know them!! I am never not imagining all of the intricacies of Louis' bedroom!!!! Please I love him so much!!!

[crom-ink]

THE ART OF CROM: BY CROM!!!

CROM GOT ANGRY AND THE EARTH SHOOK.

Crom is the name of the god revered by most Cimmerians, including the most famous: Conan the Barbarian. It is also the pseudonym of London illustrator. Here, no frills, Crom goes to the essentials. The line is fine and regular, no solids or hairlines. The reliefs are underlined by the addition of color, always sober, or contrasting flat black.

The layout may seem imprecise, childish, at first glance, especially on these comic book pages. But on closer inspection, it's all there. The proportions are there and the atmosphere is set. Because yes, Cristian is one of those artists who favors atmosphere over details and each of his drawings exudes “something”. His characters are crowned with a story, a life of their own. We read past battles in the pose of its warriors, the darkness of a world in the face of its heroes...

His inspirations range from science fiction (with a little guilty pleasure for his Warhammer 40k fan-arts!) to heroic-fantasy with an obvious acquaintance with the marvelous world of Crom and his followers.

No doubt, Crom is a great designer! To get an idea, don't hesitate to go to his website , his Instagram or buy one of these t-shirts on crom.ink!

WRITTEN BY

PIERRE MELIER

Source: Geek art

[mossdaggar]

Holy Grail, let's talk HELLWHALE!

The game is moving to layout very soon, since editing is about done, but I wanted to share a sneak peek of the HELLWHALERS mechanics.

In HELLWHALERS, you'll use tokens to solve problems, referred to as Knots. Knots range from dealing with cranky crewmates to powerful demonic adversaries. They function a lot like Clocks, popularized by games like Blades in the Dark. When a knot is introduced, the game moves out of a conversational roleplaying game, and into a turn-based system. Every round, each whaler has an opportunity to contribute to the action. Usually this involves spending a soul to use a move or help solve the knot somehow. The Guilty's playbook includes the strong move 'Seize a moment, and deal with the consequences later', which can be interpreted in a number of ways. Striking back against invading carrion crabs with your cutlass could fall under that move. In the event you don't have a token, or don't want to spend one, you can always use a weak move for your turn to gain one. Alternatively, in combat, you can spend precious Weapon Supply in place of a soul. Harpoons, cannonballs, etc. all fall under this resource. One Weapon Supply is as good as one Soul spent on a combat knot. You'll need that weapon supply to deal with the hellwhale, however, so use it wisely. Each soul or supply spent resolving the knot ticks the knot/clock, until it is either resolved, or each player has made an action. After each whaler has contributed an action for their turn, if the knot still has ticks to go, it has a consequence, and then the rounds repeat until it is resolved. Once solved, a knot will grant a few Souls back as a reward, ensuring the churn of currency doesn't stagnate. Once you've collected enough souls to pulse the whale's disembodied, blackened heart, the echoes reach the behemoth, wherever it roams, and calls it for the final encounter. In most games, three pulses of the heart will allow you to fight the whale. Mechanically, the whale acts a lot like a knot. You act in turn order, same as before, but the whale can only be damaged by expending Weapon Supply, not just souls. 13 harpoons should down the beast, but every round, it will roll on a d6 table, and create a new knot as a consequence based on the result. These range from flooding the ship, or knocking whalers overboard, to supernatural effects, like a crown of demonic sea-vermin. The whale can only be harmed when these knots aren't interfering. On a roll of 6, the whale's action table moves to a more intense set of knots. On a second 6, it moves to a third, even more dire table. On a third 6, the whale destroys your vessel and crew. Look forward to hearing more about this game, now that the text is finalized. Layout should begin in March, then a couple months later should be our release.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

7.14.23 Friday

I still have windblow trap and I feel stress...

But I enjoy watching "van tour" coz I really wanna have it angels...

Another beautiful layout here...

Another pretty layout that I like...

Old style but cool... I love this van as simply van ride... It is vintage and cute but transforming it not really....

8:11 am

Uncle Jun is preparing going to Georgia'Z + Betsilog'Z forest (Still hating Georgia'Z + Betsilog'Z gang ) wearing plastics coat....

I still wanna leave this hometown thinking of plastics church of christ members ( probably some are guilty or not guilty ).

Fake some FilipiNOSE in Cavite who took away my crown and very organize to do their own agenda and movement... Who took away my life since 2007...

I will explain later coz I'm not "ningas kugon" ( ningas kugon is an old tagalog term for not really preparing in time something like that or some kind of lazy or easy2x...) ...4 years ago me and Dina tried to use our caregiver certificate ( though not really my ideal job coz I'm a college graduate of Biology ) but for practical reasons I have to and I sensed that everytime I will apply there are some shorty people or some people who are probably trying to control my life situation ( meaning the slot for the job that I'm gonna apply was always taken or they will pause the hiring ).... I really wonder why.. I feel defeated and irritated!

It was not fair in my part and it wasn't my fault... Coz I wanted to travel and see other world and by doing that being a caregiver, I told myself probably I can see other world than being stuck here or I can buy starbucks everyday ( though not really my dream job from supposed to be a Queen then go down to care taker of someone or something) but everyone is fake in the family such as Betsilog'z and Burger ( the chosen Kate Middleton of the family here) they became suddenly the honey bee for 16 years...

Being a honey bee is an important position... A honey bee position meaning they are the main members of the family or the main attraction of the family clan or family tribe...It can be some kind of a baby baby princess of a particular group that is being a "honey bee"...

That's why I didn't not attend coz they took away my position since 2007 and I became just simply stupid that I have to look up on Burger...

Burger is somehow a sweetish person that argh! Super I really wanted to vomit...

But I have no guilty emotion, I humbled myself for 16 years but I just realized that being super nice is harmful for me...

These are fakes....Or 2 are fakes... These are my half-sister's in blood on my biological mother...

This is me the real " honey bee" coz I was always the baby of my friends coz I was the innocent one and the purely super nice friend... Plus I had my yaya'Z way back... But sometimes we still need to embrace life ( no matter what happens )...

9:47 am

I still have windblow trap... I wanna leave the hometown and I feel bitter and frustrated that some relatives took my honey bee position and they are happy for 16 years...

I'm thinking of having a big gathering with some good old friends and new friends that I like on and off the screen...

Probably later I wanna do a friend's list that I wanted to see mostly my non-church of christ friends and some born again such as my bestfriend/ gf Dra. Mitch ( she is a Born Again Christian ), my childhood bestfriend named Diana/ Apple ( she is a Baptiste the religion of royal blood ), on my 18th birthday I'm not really sure if all were my friends but hoping... I wanna see my Betan family most specially in FEU where I met my very first bf Doc Rocky ( He is a 7th Adventist and was religious and was kinda innocent as well ), I wanna see some of my Biology classmates who were my friends before meeting Dra. MITCH, group of Ronald, Rina and Willa ( one of the cutest classmates that I had in Biology aside from Mitch ).... I had so many friends during college that I wasn't able to keep the communication due to my immaturity ... One of the regrets that I had have but I'm so broke now ... There I listed some names...

I miss Monet so much ( that I ordered her to do something and hoping she obeyed me )...

I met Poras at the back of Cavite, I was broken-hearted that time but I considered her as my friend though she is younger than me. I think I was 24 that time and she was just 18... But Poras didn't know me that much coz I was broken-hearted that time ( I was just really quiet )... I just bonded with her after our few weeks training in contact center supposed to be but we just did a call center ( the nature of the job is kinda shocking and weird ) You must be mature and awakened... You get my points angels? The difference of contact vs call center... hahaha... So, funny I was broken hearted and I met some PBA's player coz they are mainly managing the call center...

I love Fernan so much, my younger brother as a friendly brother, I met him in Teleperformance from the previous years...At first he was very Cavitenyo then it seems he doesn't want to speak English but later on he was good and better... I told him to speak English coz I sensed something on him then in a lil while wow! He did great... I had have windblow trap... A small brotherhood...

I wanted to have a bonding not because of my ending but it will be hoping the beginning of my life and lives of some good friends... I love having and maintaining good friends... Now, I'm gonna be the main host... I need other soul than my family... My support system and let's TALK!

Gio? Not really my friend if he bad-mouthed me about something... But we were ohkay as workmates coz he was kinda a sarcastic person... But I was plainly ohkay with him as my workmates... I remember he likes someone in our batch group in Pan Pharma... I used to be a medical representative... They didn't even know that I had a bf and they thought I was an old maid that time in Pan Pharma...

11:07 pm

1:05 pm

I still have windblow trap... I need money..I still wanna talk to Mr Lopez... My old friends are gone and my exes are all gone, now that I need a back-up coz I have windblow trap...

I feel fat and ugly and I wanna remove my "deep smile lines" as you can see...

Nana is watching channel 5 now, it is so amazing that "Allan K" was a friend of my adoptive japanese father and somehow a friend of my adoptive mother as well ( The Aunt Teresa )... It just suddenly pop-up in my head... Time that we had our Karaoke Bar Club of my adoptive parent's, the gang of "Allan K" was behind of it... We had our showbiz link before, link of my adoptive parent's.

I really feet fat and ugly and I wanted to be a Mayor... I wanted my crown... I need a job and I need a collagen and I feel frustrated... I wanted to gain friends... I feel self-pity...

One week no food alms from Mystery Lover's ( Uncle DD and Aunt Karen ) I don't know the main plan of father figure ( Uncle DD for father figure of Aunt Karen's son only ) I thought he will be just like the Uncle of Vanessa Paradis but I'm so disappointed on his reaction on me that he said to nana about me that "Let her be alone...".

1:37 pm

Aunt Teresa is as well on "silent snapping" no signs of life as well...

2:32 pm

I feel bitter... I have fake relatives angels ( I need a facial wash and lotion ) grrr... I have no relatives or sister relatives?

I wanna really talk to Mr Lopez... I need an ally... I have windblow trap.

I wanna get new uppish friends who can pull me up... 16 years of me they made me nothing... I feel bitter... I need money and I need a job.... They remove my college diploma...I'm bleeding for 16 years...

3:23 pm

This almost perfect but it doesn't have bathroom...Probably will just edit the kitchen and closet?

This is perfect 10 for me...

Kinda spacious...

I just wanna share this that we can still use other than van... But I prefer the van tour...

I think, this is so cool to do if we have fundings to renovate this house and actually live there for awhile... But we need fundings... So,good to have this even nana is a nature lover...

This is a bus tour... A bit spacious... I love the van tour... I wanted a breast implants as well angels in God's time...

I will leave the some fake church of christ... Will have a tour with the other religions...

6:14 pm

I feel bitter... I need money and I need a job and I can't exist angels that supposed to be me? Me? Should mingle and meet uppish and I had yaya but I know how to face life...

I need to talk to my 3 main exes and Mr Lopez to be my ally...

8:10 pm

I still have windblow trap... I'm hurting... I'm really hurting angels....I can't prove myself... I'm hurting so much since 2007...

Aging for nothing....They just gave me lines and smashed me since 2007... I'm thinking of money and job... I needed souls to lift me up coz I can't understand...

As you can see above my face is drooping and having deep smile lines just for nothing...

9:45 pm

Whew! I feel weak coz of stress thinking of money, angels and I'm not happy...

Unfair world! Unfair treatment on me...I HAVE WINDBLOW TRAP!

10:45 pm

I still have windblow trap....So many fakes in the family some are on distance, some wanted to prove that they are real but they are not owning it! Just like on a " desparate housewives" they always say " own it!" For the shallow mind they will just take it as own it as own it! But it has a deeper meaning and explanation...

In the nutshell:

A life is a precious thing and no one is perfect but once you do your journey of a real adult individual, meaning reaching the full maturity once you said something, make sure that you "own it!" ... Another angle once you receive something a very important situation, like having a responsibility that you can't own at the latter part, it is a big unlucky thing... Own it!

[fairyofagony]

Chapter V : Assembly of Predilection

I firmly believe that pastel is the best colour ever. However, I don't declared that pastel colour is my favourite colour. I like black and navy the most. Besides, I often use pastels colour for tumblr feeds and carrd layouts :D

On my casual time, I often makes bracelets. I'm in good company with yarn and beads. I like when the colour combos matched so well. (I'm practicing how to good at crochet sometimes) It's difficult ૮₍ "T ᴖ T ₎ა

I usually make carrds, some layouts, Spotify playlist, and I'm addicted to scrolling my Pinterest & tiktok timeline.

I'm reading manga called Whisper Me A Love Song & Sasurai Emanon, on and off. {giggle} also.. webtoon entitled Trash Belongs In The Trash Can.

About Books ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

I'm not really into reading, but here's little list of some books I've read.

Laut Bercerita, The Devotion Of Suspect X, The Newcomer, scheduled suicide day, Bulan Nararya, Re: dan peRempuan, Game Over, Sepasang Angsa Putih Untuk Palupi, Rumah Kayu Itu, Perjalanan Mustahil Samiam Dari Lisboa.

𓇼 ◦ 🐚 ⁕ 𓆟 𓆞 🧺

Oh! I also put my interest in Jdrama / series, Jmovie, and anime. I've watched so many dramas and movies, but I'll choose three of them for being my favs all time.

Mr Hiiragi's Classroom, Koi Desu, Alice in Borderland are my favourite Jdrama. Also, I'm watching Hold My Hand at Twilight :<

I'm a big fan of Hirokazu Koreeda sensei. Thus, you will see myself talking about his movies a lot. Nobody Knows, All About Lily Chou-Chou, and Confessions become a top three of my favourite Jmovie all of time.

𓇼 ◦ 🐚 ⁕ 𓆟 𓆞 🍃

One Piece, Death Note, and Dr. stone is the holy trinity of the best animes I've ever watched. In addition, I watched :

Inuyasha, Naruto, Fullmetal Alchemist, Black Butler, Death Parade, Akame Ga Kill, Noragami, Akudama Drive, Guilty Crown, Zankyou No Terror, Another, Owari no Seraph, Vinland Saga Bungou Stray Dogs, Classroom of Elite, Cells at Works, 91 Days, Kakegurui, Mushoku Tensei, Erased, The Promised Neverland, Assassination Classroom, Kimetsu no Yaiba, Kuroko no Basket, ReLife, Tokyo Revengers, Haikyuu, Free, Banana Fish, Given, Jujutsu Kaisen, Great Pretender, To Your Eternity, Fugo Keiji Balance Unlimited, Weathering With You, Moriarty The Patriot, Ao Haru Ride, Your Name, Oshi no Ko, some of Ghibli movies, and many more.

𓇼 ◦ 🐚 ⁕ 𓆟 𓆞 🎎

Further info, I'm a K-drama watcher. I enjoy watched Voice, Mouse, Blind, Through The Darkness, The King Of Pigs, Taxi Driver, Kingdom, Sweet Home, Happiness, I Can Hear Your Voice, Penthouse, W, Stranger From Hell, Black, Partner For Justice, Duty After School, All of Us Are Dead, and many more. I also into Kmovie! I've watched Train to Busan, Alive, The Battle of Jangsari, Peninsula, Rampant, Ashfall, The Battleship Island, Silenced, Project Wolf Hunting and I forgot the rest of other titles.

I also watch some west movies and I'm a big fan of zombie movie or series. 🥺⭐

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤᏪㅤ ㅤ𖥨ㅤ ㅤㅤ𐙚

Please don't ever hesitate to recommend me some movie or series to watch! I will always watch every film or drama that my friend recommend me. DM me or send anonymous chat OK! 💐

[citizenrecord]

New Zealand mosque shooter appeals against life sentence

A man who killed more than 50 people in a 2019 mosque massacre in New Zealand has appealed against his life sentence,

Australian citizen Brenton Tarrant filed an appeal against his conviction, court officials told news agencies on Tuesday.

Tarrant shot dead 51 worshippers and injured 40 others at two Christchurch mosques. His victims included men, women and children who had gathered for Friday prayers.

The attack, which was live-streamed by Tarrant, shook the small island nation and prompted gun reform in New Zealand.

Tarrant was sentenced to life in prison without parole in August 2020, the first person in New Zealand ordered to spend the rest of his life behind bars.

Judge Cameron Mander said he was imposing the harshest possible term for Tarrant's "inhuman" actions.

"Your crimes are so wicked, that even if you are detained until you die it will not exhaust the requirements of punishment and denunciation," he said at the time.

The father of a 3-year-old boy killed in the attack, Tarrant's youngest victim, told the white supremacist: "You have killed my son and to me that is as though you have killed the whole of New Zealand."

Tarrant spent years preparing for the attack, prosecutors said at his sentencing hearing, buying high-powered firearms, researching mosque layouts and timing his March 15 attacks to maximise casualties.

He intended to instil fear into those he described as "invaders", a crown prosecutor said.

His former lawyer had previously indicated he was considering appeal, saying his client had believed "the simplest way out was to plead guilty", which amounted to a plea made under duress.

On Tuesday, he told AFP he had been fired and was no longer representing Tarrant.

Last year, a UK man was sent to jail for sharing footage of the massacre, and Tarrant's manifesto, online.

Another Briton was given an 18-year prison sentence for stockpiling chemicals to make explosives.

Neo-nazi Dean Morrice also filmed himself strumming a guitar to footage of the Christchurch attacks.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Convict Sam Bean Made Apology to the Court," Kingston Whig-Standard. June 27, 1933. Page 2. ----- Said He Regretted Outburst of Monday Afternoon When He Told Witness That He Was Lying --- The jury case against Convict Sam Behan, charged with rioting at the Kingston Penitentiary on October 17 and with causing damage to penitentiary property, was commenced on Monday afternoon in the General Sessions of the Peace of the County of Frontenac before His Honor Judge McLean. Before proceeding with the Behan case, Convict Harold Kosh appeared before His Honor charged with rioting and causing damage and pleaded guilty. Kosh previously had elected to be tried by Judge MacLean. He changed his plea from "not guilty" to one of "guilty" and was remanded for sentence. His Honor remarked that he was glad that Kosh had changed his plea so that he could be more lenient with him under the circumstances. Kosh was the first of the convicts charged with rioting to plead guilty. Sam Behan Convict Bam Behan was arraigned before Judge MacLean yesterday afternoon following disposal of the case of Convict Harold Koch and pleaded not guilty," announcing that he would defend himself but asked that Convict Garceau be allowed to take notes to assist him. The request was granted and Garceau was sent for.

The selection of the jury was proceeded with and the following were chosen: William Bews, E. B. Keeler, J. A. Casterton, John Brindle, Bernard Moran, Richard Berry, Arthur Deline, Roscoe Gardiner, Clyde Hillerbeck, Daniel Zurbriga. Edward Walsha nd George T. Wilkinson. Following the election of the jury, court was adjourned for ten minutes to awalt the arrival of Garceau from the penitentiary.

James Kenny The case was outlined to the jury by Crown Counsel Col. J. Kelller McKay and the first witness called was Guard James Kenny, a guard in the mall bag department of the penitentiary, who told of the happenings as they occurred in the mail-bag department on the after-noon of October 17 last, and described the physical features of the penitentiary with respect to the layout of the various shops. Kenny said Behan was one of those who left the north-east end of the dome and went towards the prison of Isolation. The shop dome was then in a turmoil.

The accused, Kenny said, was one of those in the mail bag department who spoke to the officers when they were already lined up.

Behan cross-examined Kenny at length. The accused suggested to His Honor that it was difficult for him to go on if he could not ask certain questions of motive. He argued that the Crown could refer to records of what happened years before yet he could not refer to what happened two days before. At this point the jury was taken out while Crown Counse, Behan and Judge MacLean discussed the point. "Did you see me with any weapon?"asked Behan. "No," answered Kenny. "Did you see me threaten anyone?" "No."

Harold Robinson Harold Robinson, an officer at the Kingston Penitentiary was called as the next witness. Robinson was in charge of the change room where Behan was employed. Behan was one of the first to leave the change room at three o'clock, he said and saw Behan making a speech later when he was addressing the convints.

Robinson said Behan had said it took ten months to get them (meaning the convicts) to go but that it would not take so long the next time.Robinson said he just heard the re-mark as he was going into the change room. The judge instructed the jury to disregard that evidence as there was nothing to show guilt of being an instigator in the riot. In the mail bag department Robinson said it was Behan who conferred with the two wardens and made the announcement that an agreement had been reached.

Cross-examined by Behan Robinson said he saw only Behan making a speech though he did not hear what was said because of the noise.

Questioned again by Col. McKay, Robinson said Behan looked to be taking an active part. Again Behan asked Robinson if he had said he would take the responsibility if the leaders were not punished. Robinson stated that he heard Buck say then that there were no leaders.

John Gilbey Keeper John Gilbey was the next witness called and stated that on the afternoon of October 17 at three o'clock or after the convicts were out of control and were prepared to oppose anybody who opposed them.

Behan, he said, demanded the keys of the shops not already opened as they would eventually be broken open.

In the group going to the Prison of Isolation, Behan urged the men on saying the guard in the P. of I tower could not shoot. When two more shots were fired, the gang returned to the shops and barricaded the doors. Previous to this Gilbey said he heard Behan make a speech in which he urged the men to stick together and demand clgarette papers, etc.

Gilbey said he remonstrated with Behan and urged him to take the matter up through the proper channels.

"You are lying," cried Behan.

He was called to order by Judge McLean. "The truth is bad enough," Behan cried, "I've suffered for years from those dogs." "Stop, Behan," commanded Judge McLean. "I'm sorry," said Behan, "but the truth is bad enough." Gilbey continued with his evidence after the interruption, and told of convicts throwing missiles in the mailbag department. Witness said he did not see Behan take any active)part in the mall bags although he heard him. Col. McKay asked why Gilbey didn't stop the convicts from breaking the locks off the stone shop and he said he felt he would have been in a serious situation. Gilbey described Behan as one of the leaders on that day.

Behan asked to have certain exhibits of paddling machines etc., in the Court to show under what condition sthe convicts existed.

Col. MacKay objected to the admission of such exhibits into the Court even presuming for the moment that there was ill-treatment.

Cruelty, he maintained, was not the case. Provocation Col. Mackay, contended was not justification." such exhibits would tend only to create sympathy in the jury. Behan's request was denied by the Court. The Court was adjourned when theJury returned to the Court room after arguments before Judge MacLean, Behan and Col. MacKay, as to the admission of the articles mentioned by Behan. Behan Apologizes Just as court opened on Tuesday morning Convict Sam Bahan, charged with rioting at the Kingston Penitentiary, addressed himself to Judge McLean and said he desired to make public apology to the judge, the Crown, the jury and Chief Keeper Gilbey for his outburst of yesterday. His apology was accepted by the court. Cross-examined by Convict Behan, Chief Keeper Gilbey said that Behan had demanded the keys from him or the doors in the shop-dome would be broken open. "You said to open the _____ doors or they would be smashed open," said Gilbey. "You really believe I used that profanity?" "Yes, you certainly did." Witness said between 50 and 100 convicts were in the shop-dome when he arrived there on the afternoon of October 17. "Have you heard the men from the scaffold came in first?" "No, I have not." Witness said the blacksmith shop door was open when he arrived. "Who opened the change-room?" "I don't know." "Then how did I get out of the change-room if the door hadn't been opened?" "I don't know." Witness said he has been on the penitentiary staff for fourteen years, but could not say as to the locking of the change-room door. "How did I ever get out?" "That's best known, to you, Behan. I suppose the door was broken open." "And you can't tell how I got there?" "You came through when the door was broken open." "But other officers have said that the change-room door was last opened, how could I have been in the dome when the stone-shed door was being burned?" "You know that better than I do." "How did I get into the dome?" "I explained that." "You've already tried to explain four times I think you're wasting thetime of the Court and I haven't anytime to waste." Glibey was asked to stand down a few minutes and Convict Behan's request to call Guard Robinson was granted, but Gilbey was called back to the box pending Robinson's arrival from the penitentiary." Who had the keys?" "The guard on duty in the dome." "Why did I ask you for the keys?" "For reasons best known to yourself. You knew I was a keeper." "That's no answer, you wore no insignia and there are many keepers who are only known as guards to convicts." "Behan," remarked Judge McLean. "I'd give you credit for knowing more than that." "I'll drop that question before I lose it," said Behan. "Is your eyesight good?" continued Behan. "Fair." "Why do you wear glasses?" "It improves my sight." "Did you ever see things that are not there?" "No, I don't drink." Witness resented the question by Behan and explained he considered it a slur. He said he contracted typhoid soon after entering the penitentiary staff and had to wear glasses since then.

"I don't appreciate the slur from Behan," said Gilbey, rather heatedly. "I'm sorry if you took it as a slur," said Behan and Judge McLean cautioned him not to ask such questions again. He explained he was allowing the accused considerable latitude, but would not permit such questions.

Dealing with the running out of the number of convicts from the shop-dome, witness said Behan was a leader and was carrying a hammer, being turned back only when shots were fired from the Prison of Isolation tower.

"The men are playing, bail in the yard now and running and shouting," said Behan. "Why doesn't the guard shoot at them now?" "Because they are not in a mob." "You heard my speech in the shop-dome?" "Yes, I did." "What part didn't you hear?" "Now, Behan," said Judge McLean, "that's rather an Irish way of asking a question." "All right, your honor, I'll drop that part of the question." Witness said that Behan had asked for papers, cigarette papers and recreation. "Did we get exercise?" "Yes, you did. The finest exercise you could get." "What was that?" "Walking." "How much a day?" "I am not sure." "Yet you have been on the staff for fourteen years and you don't know how much walking the men got?" "I think twenty minutes." "And you call walking around a circle looking at the heels in front of you, the best exercise in the world?" Witness said he had not heard Behan tell the men to do no damage. "Have you had trouble with inmates?" "Not a great deal." "Then you never harmed any of them?" "No, I have not." "Would you harm you dog?" "No, I would not." "Would you be kind to your dog?" "Yes." "Would you treat a human as you would your dog?" "Yes." "Then you mean to say you'd treat a human as you would a dog or a cat?" Col. MacKay immediately raised objections, maintaining that Behan's remarks were a distortion of the evidence and Judge McLean asked Behan to refrain from making such remarks. The accused also asked regarding paddling and personal grievances, but Judge McLean once more stopped the questioning. "I must insist," he said, "on dealing only with the charge. The preliminaries are all over. Get into the ring." Had Fear Gilbey said that no one was seriouly hurt in the riot, but he would not say there was not intent on the part of the convicts. "Then you were not afraid?" asked Behan. "I had fear, because I felt if the officers had used force on the men, there would have been bloodshed." "Why didn't the convicts go after the officers?" "Because the officers did not resist them."

Gilbey told the jury he went overseas at fifteen and served in France. "I had many harrowing experiences," h esaid, "but I feel that the affair at the penitentiary on October 17 was more terrifying than on the western front." "Do you really mean to say that in France, where thousands were being killed all around was less terrifying than the affair at the penitentiary when there wasn't a scratch?" "Yes." "That's a broad statement. I leave it with the jury." "When the shots were fired in the mail-bag department, where were the officers?" "They were lined up in front." "Why weren't they ever hit?" "Because the shots went over their heads." "So that is why the men got under the tables?" "I saw plenty there." "You did not." "I did so."

Witness was cross-examined by Behan regarding his actions in the mail-bag department and said that he didn't turn his back on the convicts.

Not In Warden's Court "I want you to answer my questions," thundered Behan, "you're not in the Warden's Court now." Witness said he did not know who took part in the parley with the Warden in the mail-bag department. He said he had no idea what amount of damage had been done in the shop-dome and Behan told him it was $504. "Did the officers stand their ground when the firing started?" "Yes." "Do you know what you're talking about?" "I certainly do." "I'm afraid you've got a very poor memory." Replying to Col. MacKay, witness said Behan was waving a hammer over his head as he and others rushed out of the shop-dome to go toward the Prison of Isolation. Court was then adjourned until two o'clock this afternoon.

[n1ro]

# ♡ ﹏ ©INORI  ⩩ ̤ 𝄒  LAYOUTS . . . ⏲ >_<

[fofurinhaz]

♡ , ✦ ۰ tsugumi layout ♡

# , ✦ ۰ like & reblog if u save / use  ♡

[themadauthorshatter]

A lot of you seem to really like that Swap AU for Red Queen, so...

Time for a Part 2!!!!!

Like with Glass Sword, we start with Mare and crew on a train, Shade next to her while the rest their rifles aimed at Maven, who sits resolutely.

Kilorn is especially pissed because he doesn't trust the crown prince's younger brother, nor even when the bastard almost got all of them killed. Twice.

Maven snips that he was at fault for the second time, but Kilorn's stupider than he already is, if he thinks Maven palnned for Ptolemus to survive and come came to hunt them all down.

Mare barks at Maven to shut up, but Kilorn is more direct, punching the traitor prince in the nose.

Before he can do more, Farley calls him off, telling him he can kick Maven's ass later, when they're not on the train.

Reluctantly, Kilorn backs off and leaves Maven to wipe his nose off.

Mare, in an effort to diffuse the tension, asks where they're all going, anyway.

Shade and Farley glance at each other, then to Maven, before Shade explains they're on their way to Tuck.

Both Mare and Maven are confused, but there's no time for questions because they get attacked, as in their train gets derailed and is crushed like a tin can, chasing everyone outside.

ACTION TIME!!!!!!

Everyone hightails it out as they and the rest of the team with them fight off Silver forces. Their main goal is to get to what looks like a cliffside; Farley points to it and shouts they run there.

Mare notices the sudden lack of Maven, but shakes it off; he can either die or catch up somehow, it's every man for himself right now.

Mare does well in fending for herself, like before, but that stops when she's found and surrounded by a huge number of Silvers who are not afraid to rittle her with bullets, if she does anything.

The only reason they ARE afraid is because their General gave them a very strict order to not shoot unless he says so.

And this General is Cal, who instantly notices that Maven is missing and asks Mare where he is.

Mare challenges him, wondering if he's planning on shooting his brother himself, if she gives him up.

Cal snaps, asking if she's really defending someone who betrayed her, after lying to her for so long.

Mare still doesn't reveal that Maven ran, and instead growls that if Cal's trying to bring her back, it won't work, because she's not getting her family killed with her.

And she sure as hell isn't trusting the person who screwed her over in the first place.

Those words put a hole in Cal's chest and he turns to whoever is his second in command.

"Open fire."

The poor bastard doesn't get a chance to do anything because Mare brings the plane(I think it's a Snap Dragon?) down, and blue flames fly out and drive away most of the Silvers.

Turns out Maven didn't run far at all, and instead gestures for Mare to run for the cliffside, which she does.

Mare and Maven cover themselves and each other, even as Cal says, 'fuck it,' and gives chase, the boys engage in a firefight from a distance.

Before things can get serious, Mare and Maven make it the cliffside and jump, Cal shouting that they can't run or hide forever. They will be found, and they will pay for their crimes, one way or another, regardless of their rank or the color of their blood. Even if Cal has to be the one to find them and execute them, they will face justice.

Mare and Maven find themselves in the submarine like before and Maven is made to stick around because no one wants to go looking for him, should he decide to run off and get lost.

It's here that Maven expresses that if Cal's hunting them, then they're all on borrowed time, 'them' being him, Mare, the Scarlet Guard, and any Newbloods Elara bothered to remember.

While he gets patched up, Shade asks why that's such a big deal, seeing as how they managed to get away.

Maven makes it clear: Cal does not know how to sit still. He's a hunter, a GOOD hunter. He'll solve problems with action, not words. He has an entire legion at his command, too, and both Samos children on his side.

And Cal can't think for himself to save his life. Most of his decisions come from someone else.

And guess who decided that Mare, Maven, and the Guard need to be erased?

It paints a clear picture for everyone, and Farley asks Mare to think about the Newbloods and try to remember any specific names, or pick out someone they need to pick up before leaving.

Mare doesn't have too long to think because they arrive at Tuck.

It's raining and pouring, but the group still gets to the surface, where Mare reunites with Bree. (Hooray!)

And Maven is captured by the Colonel.

Unlike before, there is and isn't a rush to find the Newbloods, there is because Elara and Tibe can pull the names of on a computer, print a list, and have them all killed, but there isn't because they need to look through the blood base to find the names, which will probably take a while because no Silver ever pays a Red any mind.

Mare still wants to go and talks Shade, Farley, Kilorn into helping, but also stipulates that she needs to bring Maven with, because he knows the most as a Silver she doesn't trust him in his own(Sure, good cover).

They're agaunst the idea, but Kilorn caves and helps her get Maven out.

Speaking of Maven, what's he been doing? Simple. Trying to find a way out without going inside. Elara's in his head and he can't get her to leave.

He's been in his cell for a few days, but has been more cooperative than Cal, turning his back to eat, not beating his knuckles bloody, and even trying to rearrange so he doesn't absolutely lose it.

He's chilling against the wall when Mare and Kilorn come in, and he's so excited to see BOTH of them for a change.

Neither really notice how the acrylic is scuffed up.

At least until Kilorn throws Mare in and locks them both inside of the cell.

They're left anger and unhappy and, after some back and forth, Mare asks what Maven about Tuck.

He admits he doesn't know much; geography was more up Cal's league, but Mare doesn't have Cal with her, she has Maven, and he apologizes for not being what or who she wants.

Mare doesn't respond and they remain silent for up to a few days.

In one of those days, Maven has a really bad phantom Elara headache, and from all the stress of what's happened.

While they sit across from each other, Mare against one wall and Maven against the other, Maven cluthes his head and screams until he runs out of breath, which he catches before screaming again.

Mare, out of curiosity and having similar feelings, after realizing what she said to Cal and how she's in over her head, joins him.

It feels good to get it out, so she keeps going.

Both scream until they're sick of it and sit back against the wall, sitting side by side.

They're met up by the Colonel, who comments in both the layout of the room and literally screaming matching before cutting to the trace.

The crown prince made an offer they can't refuse: one of the traitors for the removal of the measures as a whole. It doesn't matter which one, they just need one of them alive, and the Colonel wants to keep Mare around, for the sake of the 'Newbloods' Julien told her about.

Maven, not exactly buying it, asks why they only need ONE of them when both would be more valuable.

The Colonel warns him not to get cocky, but Maven pieces it together:

The COLONEL offered one in return for both, seeing as how both Mare and Maven have seen the list. All Elara really needs is one of them, and then she, Tibe, and Cal have access to find and hunt down the Newbloods. After that, they'll probably kill him.

Maven, understanding there's no real way he's getting out of this(if he refuses, Mare's getting sent to them instead, and then he'll have to deal with the fact he got her killed and her grieving friend and family), asks when he'll be leaving.

The Colonel nods and states whenever the jet is ready. Just as he leaves to let Maven and Mare say goodbye, he tells Maven that enough men and women have been killed, so with his death, at least he'll stop children from following.

Maven and Mare watch him leave.

Only to see him fall back.

Kilorn has returned with Farley and Shade in toe, Farley holding up a set of keys to the cell.

Like before, they leave via the Black Run, but this time it's Farley that has to pilot because Cal's not around in this timeline- I mean, AU.😁

Also like before, after some discourse from Kilorn and and maybe teasing from Shade(because he calls Maven the 'little prince' to be harmless), they find Nix Marsten, and if he beat the daylights out of Cal, he beats THE EVER AND NEVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF MAVEN.

Did he lead his daughters to their deaths? No.

Was he there with Cal when it was planned that they take a legion across a river/waterfall? Yes.

Was he known for instilling a little bit of reasoning in Cal? Yes.

Did he do that when Cal made the decision to cross a waterfall to fight an enemy force? No.

Maven is incredibly guilty, having been a few people behind when he saw the girls went over the falls, screaming, sputtering, and crying for someone to help them even when they went over the edge and screamed most of the way down.

He says that he knows it's useless, but he's too sorry for words. Too many Reds have died and soon Newbloods like Nix, Mare, and Shade will follow, if they don't hurry.

Nix, reluctant, goes with them, but asks firmly that Maven be kept the HELL away from him.

With Cal, Tibe, and Elara, the Queen is led to the Silent Stone cells, where Cal is sitting.

She asks the Sentinel to leave them, and he does, before asking Cal why he can't follow simple orders, for a General?

Cal snaps that he DID follow those orders. He just didn't retriwve Mare and Maven because Mare threw a plane at them and he and Maven had a firefight before they escaped.

And it was not his fault there was a submarine there and that it was on a cliffside.

Elara laughs out and tells him that he'd better be able to explain that to his father, because he's just about ready to kill him, Mare, and Maven himself.

Cal gives a laugh, asking if she'd like that to happen, seeing as how that was her plan.

Elara takes a breath and warns Cal that if it weren't for the Silent Stone, she would have disposed of him the same way she did with Coriane; in her own words, "the weak bitch stole the crown from me once, and I won't let her bastard take it again."

Cal asks when he's getting executed, but Elara smirks.

No need, because they found Maven and Mare, and Tibe, who loves Coriane's son SO much, is sparing him for Maven, who's getting thrown to Volo Samos and Rem Rhambos.

After that, she'll scramble his brains with a fork until he's more broken than both his parents put together, regardless of his place as the crown prince of Norta; this ain't The Folk of The Air, people. She can marry and ally to whomever, but ELARA is going to rule Norta and will make the Lakelands and the other countries surrounding Norta kowtow to her will.

Cal watches her leave, nervous for himself, but more concerned for Maven.

Well, at least he hears, "WHY IS EVERYONE SO USELESS LATELY!?" down the hall.

Elara returns and Cal makes a suggestion to where Maven and Mare are going, for it's population amd the fact Elara hates the place in general:

Harbor Bay.

And he has a way to bring Mare back, one he made a while back.

And Part 2 is going to need a Part 2 because this is going to be longer than I thought😅

[apiratewhopines]

Killian, Persuaded

Chapter Five - Straight and Narrow

Summary: In which our hero learns the hard facts

Chapter Five on AO3

“I’m useless but not for long”

-Clint Eastwood, Gorillaz

Killian was irritated to learn walking to the principal’s office as an adult was quite similar to being marched to the headmaster’s office as a teenager. He was informed by Iris’s teacher when he dropped the girls off that morning his presence was requested for a brief conversation regarding who knew what.

He followed the hall monitor, a rather self-important sixth grader who wore his limited authority like a crown, and noticed the miniature lockers lining the hallway were neatly numbered and uniform in their metal blandness. An admirable attempt to brighten the institutional neutrals of the concrete block walls was made by using artwork from some of the younger grades but it failed to completely divert attention from the sameness of the structure.

Of course, when the last time someone had been in a school involved traversing the halls of a former castle to find his classes and room, a recent construction such as the one he was currently trapped in would lack a certain ominous je ne sais quoi. At home in drifty, rambling spaces tacked on to the main keep as the centuries marched on, the straight and carefully planned layout of the elementary school left him feeling like a sore thumb.

He was a hot mess. Even kindergarteners had it more together than him.

As if to prove his point, the bell rang loudly and the hall was immediately flooded by hundreds of tiny people, scurrying about like they were late for important business appointments. It would have been easy to lose his guide in the chaotic shuffle of humanity but the young man raised his hand in the air, his training having clearly prepared him for all potential pitfalls. He continued to cut a swath directly down the center of the hallway and Killian followed slowly trying not to look like an oversized tourist in Lilliput.

Stopping outside a brightly lit office in the center of the building, the hall monitor opened the door and ushered him in before shutting it with a quiet click behind him. The feeling of being ambushed increased tenfold.

An elderly woman was perched comfortably behind a low counter but either she didn’t hear him come in or was unconcerned with his presence. He cleared his throat several times before her owlish eyes shifted from the ancient desktop monitor to the doorway. When she adjusted her bifocals to get him in focus, he flashed his most charming smile and greeted her. “Good morning, lass! I believe Principal Mills is expecting me.”

“You’re a bit old for a talking to,” she observed with a kindly smile. “And I’m a bit old to be called lass.”

“I wholeheartedly agree with the former observation but respectfully disagree with the latter. A woman such as yourself will never stop causing hearts to flutter,” he flirted, taking the opportunity to study the neat, well-organized office. “I’m Killian Jones.”

“Trust me, I know,” she informed him with the same sweet smile. “We don’t get many visitors in Storybrooke, especially famous ones with handsome faces.”

“Keep it up, lass, and I’ll start blushing,” he murmured as he finished his inspection of the room. Fairly certain the woman who demanded his presence was ensconced behind the closed door to his right, he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Any idea what the old girl wants to talk about? I swear I haven’t stolen anyone’s lunch money.”

Lips twitching in amusement, she whispered back, “What about copying someone’s homework?”

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

“Well, we’ll hold off on calling Sheriff Swan then.” The secretary, whose gold-edged nameplate announced was Mrs. Ruth Nolan, winked at him and continued, “You can have a seat. She’s finishing up with a student right now.”

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, he tried to pick the largest chair available, which unfortunately was better suited for the school’s general population than a grown man in his thirties. Stretching his legs out, he distracted himself from the cramped position he was forced to bear by looking at the picture lined walls. Decades of graduating classes stared back at him from matching frames. The youth of Storybrooke were displayed like a visual time capsule beginning as far back as 1983.

Giving into curiosity, his stood to get a closer look at a particular picture from the mid-nineties. He was delighted to find off to the far side of the grouping there was a tiny blonde figure with a miserable expression captured by the camera lens.

Clearly, Emma had been as happy about entering this building back then as he was now.

Hearing the door to the principal’s office open, he looked over and found himself staring at Henry’s upset countenance. The boy’s nose and eyes were red, presenting an image of someone doing his best to keep from crying. Concerned, he moved to his side and asked, “Alright there, Henry?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he muttered, refusing to meet Killian’s eyes. “I need to get back to class.”

He watched as the boy walked quickly out of the office. When he glanced back, he was faced with a striking raven-haired beauty many years younger than he expected. Pushing aside his surprise, he demanded, “What happened to him? Why is he upset?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Jones, did I miss the part where you were Henry’s guardian?”

Practically frost-bitten from her tone, he replied flippantly. “You know what they say, it takes a village.”

“And every village needs an idiot,” she responded, not to be outdone. She raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue their increasingly venomous exchange. Not used to being so directly insulted, he backed down and preceded her into the spacious office when she gestured for him to enter. Sensing the undercurrent of tension, she sighed and said in a more professional tone, “Thank you for coming in. I realize you were under no obligation to meet with me.”

“To be completely honest, I don’t have much going on right now. Even so, I am intrigued regarding what you could possibly want to talk about. As you so eloquently pointed out, I’m not anyone’s guardian so our topics of conversation would be limited at best.”

With a tight smile, she said, “I understand from Iris that you’re looking for a job.”

Gobsmacked, Killian leaned back in his chair and stared at Principal Mills. “My niece told you I was looking for work?”

“She insisted I consider you for one of our open teaching positions,” Mills answered with a grim look.

“Rather forward of her…”

“I try to encourage assertiveness in all of my students, especially the girls. Too often in this world, women are demeaned for having leadership abilities. Iris is one of the best students I’ve ever had. She’s focused, smart, hard-working, and fortunate enough to have a supportive environment at home.”

“She’s definitely all that and more, Ms. Mills. But you can’t be considering me as an instructor. What would I even teach? How to develop a cunning wit and condition leather?” Although, it was his valet who usually handled the leather so he wouldn’t be much help there either.

“Obviously I’m not considering it. You’re totally unsuitable.”

Ah, this was more the speed of conversation he was expecting. If he had a dollar for every time someone tried to make him feel inferior since his fall from grace, he wouldn’t have needed the family money in the first place. Nodding, he stood to leave. “Lovely chat. I’ll see myself out.”

“Sit down, Mr. Jones. Despite your lack of suitably for a job here, I wanted to invite you to volunteer at the school. If you intend to stay in our community, it will allow you to make some excellent contacts and spend time with your nieces who, for reasons that escape me at the moment, think you are a talented man.”

“Just to be clear: You’re saying I’m not good enough for a paying job but you’ll allow me to work for you without compensation.”

For the first time, real mirth flitted across the woman’s face and it completely transformed her. Gone was the severe lines of displeasure. Instead her eyes came alive with laughter, her cheeks flushed softly and her lips parted to reveal a smile that would probably turn heads if you were into that kind of thing. Recently, he was more attracted to women—one woman really—who wouldn’t give him the time of day. “Maybe there is a brain behind that face after all. Your first assignment will be to chaperone the Halloween sock hop. You should probably recruit some help as well.”

Ignoring the fact he had no idea what a sock hop was, he responded, “I haven’t said yes.”

“You will. Even if you don’t want to, Iris will talk you into it,” Principal Mills assured him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a school to manage.”

—

He emerged from the principal’s office relieved to have survived the encounter. Despite the brief show of emotion at the end of their meeting, he was half convinced the woman was some sort of evil cyborg.

Making his way down the empty hallway unaided, Killian was almost to the door when he heard a sniffle behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Henry distractedly trying to open one of the tiny lockers near the bathroom. Retracing his steps back to the young man, he leaned with careful casualness against the next section of lockers and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Henry took great pains to wipe his tears as covertly as possible but subtlety was not a natural talent for most ten-year-old boys. As extraordinary as Emma’s boy was, it seemed he fit squarely in the norm on this at least. “Are you going to tell Emma I was in the principal’s office?”

“Your secret is safe with me. I hope I can count on your discretion regarding my trip there as well. She’s quite scary and I have a reputation to protect.”

“Who? Ms. Mills or Emma?”

The lad was definitely stalling, probably hoping Killian would drop the subject. With a grimace, he admitted, “Both, I suppose. So how did you end up there?”

Coming to a decision, Henry made his way to Killian’s side and stuck a similar pose next to him. Eyes closed, in a soft voice he asked, “Did Iris tell you I’m a foster kid?”

“She may have mentioned something to that effect.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like it’s a secret. I’m the only foster child in the whole town. Anyway, some of the older boys like to remind me my parents didn’t love me enough to keep me. Repeatedly. So today, I punched one of them and he cried so hard they had to call his parents to come get him.”

“Well done, lad. Proud of you.”

“But Ms. Mills says it’s better to use your words,” Henry argued without any real conviction. Sneaking a glance at Killian, he had a hint of a smile on his face.

“She gets paid to say those things,” Killian pointed out. He was at a loss as to what to say next. On some level, he knew he was supposed to be a responsible adult and reinforce the message of keeping violence to a minimum. However, he was never particularly good at being responsible, or an adult for that matter. “Listen, I’m not saying you should clock every bloke who irritates you. That makes you no better than the bullies. But long ago, your moth—Emma—told me something that stuck with me. My life would have turned out much better if I had heeded her advice.”

Having Henry’s complete attention now, he hoped he was doing the right thing. He had no idea how much of Emma’s past she shared with her foster son and he would hate to break any confidences, even though it could hardly make things worse between them. “She said sometimes you have to punch back and make the world see you for who you really are. Never forget, Henry, you’re not the only foster in Storybrooke. Emma was one too and look at how great her life has turned out. She’s a respected sheriff, she has more friends than she has time to spend with them, and she’s got you to make sure she eats a vegetable every once in a while.”

Hearing a watery chuckle from his companion, he nudged Henry softly. “What is it the kids are saying nowadays? Don’t let the haters get you down.”

“It sounds weird when you say it,” Henry criticized.

“It’s the accent,” Killian joked. “Everything sounds weird when I say it.”

Picking up his backpack, Henry took a deep breath. “I guess I should go back to class before I get in trouble again.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?”

“No, I’m good now. Thanks, Killian. I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have a friend.”

Watching his small form until he turned the corner, Killian wondered why his chest felt like it expanded to twice its normal size as he made his way back home.

—

Walking into the kitchen, a scene of chaos unfolded before him. Liam and the twins were supposedly showing Robin and Roland the best way to make a cake and the results were disastrous. Broken eggshells littered the floor, there was flour on every surface—including the ceiling and the children—and one of the twins was currently stirring sugar into the can of chocolate frosting Elsa bought for the occasion.

“Bloody hell.”

“Welcome home, little brother. We have quite the situation brewing and we need all hands on deck,” Liam shouted over the sound of the mixer Robin and Roland were using in the corner.

Trying to remind himself he had thought silence was the worst part of his dire straits, Killian rolled up the sleeves of his blue button down and made his way over to Linnea. Plucking the girl into his arms, his scowl turned into a grin when the little one flashed him a disappointed look. His mother used to make the exact same expression. Liam just may be the luckiest man in the world. “Darling, what kind of cake are you making today?”

“Sugar cake,” she answered as if it should be obvious.

“Excellent, that happens to be my favorite kind,” he replied with mock seriousness. Linnea proceeded to smear sugar-laced chocolate frosting into his beard as he looked to the adults in the room and asked, “What exactly are we trying to accomplish here?”

“We’re practicing,” Liam said by way of explanation as he took a pan away from Lily.

“For what? The apocalypse?”

His questions went unanswered as Roland, or perhaps it was Robin, changed the setting on the mixer and a shower of half incorporated cake mix splattered over everyone in the room. Like the true hero she believed him to be, Killian curled his niece away, taking the brunt of the sweet blast himself.

Slipping and sliding through the mess on the floor, Liam valiantly fought his way to the corner and pulled the cord on the offending kitchen appliance. Before anyone could say a word, the back door opened and Elsa walked in with the poise he was beginning to think she had trademarked. Taking in the scene, complete with abashed adults and delighted children, she rolled her eyes and muttered, “So much for a quiet lunch with my husband.”

Jumping into the fray with grace only she could exhibit, it was merely ten minutes later that shining, happy faces were properly settled in booster seats at the kitchen island, floor scrubbed, countertops spotless, and two layers of yellow cake placed into a preheated oven. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Killian thought he may be a little bit in love with her.

“I hope it goes smoother this weekend,” she observed with a wry look at Liam. Leaving the adults to tidy themselves up with the wet wipes she threw on the counter by the sink, she walked to the refrigerator and pulled out leftover roast chicken and a salad. “We could always order a cake from the diner.”

“It was going fine, love. We will make you proud at the party.” To make amends for the mess she walked into, Liam began to plate up lunch for everyone.

Killian assumed it was the heated glance the two shared that made Robin smirk as he asked, “What party?”

“Emma’s birthday party,” Elsa replied as she poured milk into plastic cups.

“And Emma would be?”

“Our neighbor, who happens to be Killian’s ex-girlfriend.”

Never mind, he wasn’t a little bit in love with her anymore.

The way Robin’s eyebrows raised left him concerned they would disappear into his friend’s hairline. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to retreat now, he settled in for what was surely going to be an extremely tedious conversation.

“Ah, I see. Would she happen to be a stunning blonde?”

“You’ve met her already?”

“Just spied her across the way,” Robin said through a grin. Looking at Killian with a sly side-eyed glance, he added, “I’m sure you’ll all have a rousing good time. I do hope there will be plenty of fireworks.”

“You should join us,” Liam offered as he took the stool between the twins. “It’s usually only our family and Henry so the more the merrier.”

“Go if you want, Robin. I can watch Roland if you need a break,” Killian murmured. The truth was even though he knew her birthday was approaching, he hadn’t been aware of a celebration and he wasn’t entirely sure he would be welcome.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Killian, you have to come. It’s not like you to slink away,” Liam argued, completely aghast at the idea.

“I’m not slinking away. I’m simply not forcing my company on someone who would rather not have it. Consider it my birthday present.” If he grew morose at the realization he had never spent a birthday with her, it was nobody’s business but his own.

“I don’t know,” Robin observed thoughtfully while he cut Roland’s chicken into small pieces and poured a frankly obscene amount of ranch dressing onto his own salad. “It didn’t seem like she minded your company the other day on her porch.”

“Oh, I haven’t heard this story,” Elsa said, propping her elbows on the countertop and looking at Robin with interest. “Do tell.”

“Nothing to tell,” Killian interrupted with a warning glare at his friend. The last thing he needed was his family getting the wrong idea about something Robin took totally out of context. “She was thanking me for helping out with Henry is all.”

Elsa studied him as she popped a grape tomato into her mouth, still resting her head in her hand as if sitting up straight was beyond her abilities at the moment. “Well, you won’t be able to get into any porch shenanigans at the party. Walsh is coming.”

Mirroring Elsa’s stance, Robin asked in a melodramatic whisper, “Who’s Walsh?”

Behind Elsa, Liam rolled his eyes and started mouthing his answer to Robin’s question, something appearing suspiciously like ‘Prat.’

Unamused, Elsa said, “I can see your reflection in the oven, Liam. Walsh is the man Emma is dating.”

Heart dropping, Killian focused on shallowing his bite of food which had suddenly become a difficult task. He wasn’t surprised. Not really. It would be much more shocking for a woman like Emma not to have someone in her life. The only part he couldn’t figure out was where the hell the guy was hiding. He’d been there for nearly three weeks and hadn’t seen him once. Kicking himself for asking but unable to stop the words falling from his mouth, he muttered, “How long?”

With a resigned sigh, Elsa said, “About a year I guess.”

“That’s not dating. It’s a relationship,” Robin pointed out. “What’s the matter with him?”

Once again, Liam was mouthing insults about the man behind Elsa’s back. She turned around and swatted at him with her napkin. “Honestly, what kind of example are you setting for the kids?”

“They don’t know what I’m saying,” he responded, face shining with innocence. “He’s just…I don’t know. He’s the kind of guy you never notice and never miss but he still annoys the cra—crayons out of you.”

“Really, Liam? Crayons?” Giggling, Elsa started collecting plates and stacking them in the sink. “Besides, you don’t have to like him. You’re not the one dating him. He’s good to Emma.”

“There is more to love than being good to someone, sweetheart. You can’t tell me you’re a fan.”

“I’m not not a fan. He’s a little vanilla for my taste,” she answered slowly. With a teasing grin at Killian, she added, “But she’s definitely dated worse.”

“Hey, that’s my little brother you’re insulting,” Liam retorted defensively. Turning to plead his case with the other men, he said, “Now you both have to come to the party so you can see for yourselves.”

[starlight-phantom]

Shadow Goro Palace AU - Basic Plan

Name: Goro Akechi

Location: All Of Tokyo

Distortion: Kingdom

Role: Prince

Treasure (In Palace): Queen's Crown

Treasure (In Reality): Photo of Goro and Mother

Shadow Goro Design:

-Black prince outfit

-Gold and red ornaments on shoulders and chest

-Navy blue thigh high boots

-White chest plate, helmet and gauntlets

-Gold belt with red accents with his sword sheathed

Layout Of Palace:

The thieves have to travel to landmarks linked to places in the real world that are important to Goro. When there, they fight a boss and gain a mask that represents one of the personalities Goro uses when talking to other people. Whenever they gain a new mask, they see a memory of Goro's.

Landmarks:

Location In Reality: TV Studio

Location In Palace: Theatre

Cognitive Being: TV Producer

Cognition's Role: Playwright

Mask: Detective Prince

Memory: Attending a meeting where the TV crew discussed how to market Goro.

Location In Reality: Shibuya Station

Location In Palace: Gallows

Cognitive Being: Wakaba Isshiki

Cognition's Role: Wrongly Accused Criminal

Mask: Reluctant Assassin

Memory: Goro's first contract work for Shido.

Location In Reality: Police Station

Location In Palace: Knights' Barracks

Cognitive Being: Sae Niijima

Cognition's Role: Knight's Captain

Mask: Genuine Detective

Memory: Sae being the first colleague of his to genuinely care about him.

Location In Reality: Jazz Jin Bar

Location In Palace: Tavern

Cognitive Being: Muhen

Cognition's Role: Kindly Tavern Owner

Mask: Tired Student

Memory: Muhen offering to close the bar for a while so he could give a tired Goro a tutoring session.

Location In Reality: Leblanc

Location In Palace: Back Alley Bakery

Cognitive Being: Sojiro Sakura

Cognition's Role: Humble Baker

Mask: Curious Young Man

Memory: Goro entering Leblanc for the first time and feeling right at home.

Location In Reality: Miel Et Crepes

Location In Palace: Upper Class Café

Cognitive Being: Sumire Yoshizawa

Cognition's Role: Young Nobility

Mask: Caring Older Brother

Memory: Goro chatting with 'Kasumi' and worrying about why Sumire is acting like her sister.

Location In Reality: Penguin Sniper

Location In Palace: Secluded Fountain In Garden

Cognitive Being: Ren Amamiya

Cognition's Role: Intriguing Commoner

Mask: Shy Teenager

Memory: A playful billiards competition with Ren. Goro gets flustered by Ren's cheekiness and genuine kindness.

Location In Reality: Goro's Apartment

Location In Palace: Forbidden Woods

Cognitive Being: ???

Cognition's Role: Kingdom's Rumoured Monster

Mask: Lonely Boy

Memory: Goro returning home and being overwhelmed by the silence.

Location In Reality: Interrogation Room

Location In Palace: Prison Cell

Cognitive Being: Lead Detective

Cognition's Role: Cell Guard

Mask: Guilty Conscience

Memory: The incident

Location In Reality: Diet Building

Location In Palace: Castle Dungeon

Cognitive Being: Masayoshi Shido

Cognition's Role: Condemned Sinner

Mask: Vengeful Schemer

Memory: Goro meeting Shido and forming their contract

Location In Reality: Courthouse

Location In Palace: Throne Room

Cognitive Being: Sayaka Akechi

Cognition's Role: Caring Queen

Mask: Loving Son

Memory: Sayaka taking care of young Goro while he's sick

[duchess-of-mandalore]

Feelings I Can’t Fight - Obitine Week 2020: Day 1 (Envy)

"Envy's not a good look on you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan has peace in the Force, a purpose with the Jedi, and a padawan to train. But when he gets news that leaves him in a tailspin, he's unable (or unwilling) to control the torrent of emotions he's never felt before. Instead of releasing it to the Force, he finds himself breaking into the Jedi Temple's communication center . . . desperate to make sense of the news regarding the one person who could make him question the path he chose long ago.

Or rather ... an exploration of Obi-Wan having emotions for Satine that are as turbulent as Anakin’s for Padme.

(Also available on Ao3)

Coruscant never slept. The setting sun bathed the streets in an eerie red glow, but the denizens of the city still swarmed through the streets, which were as busy now as during the work day. Obi-Wan narrowly avoided colliding with a woman racing across his path, then had to sidestep a merchant's cart to avoid having his foot run over. His heart pounded, and he heard his master's voice in his head, reminding him that this reaction was rather unbecoming of a Jedi, especially one who was a knight and had a padawan of his own. But it made no difference; his mind swarmed like the crowds in front of him, and Obi-Wan didn't know how to calm himself. He didn't know if he wanted to.

"Master Obi-Wan, you're walking very fast!"

He barely heard Anakin's voice over the buzz of the city, but it arrested him on the spot. He stopped and turned, searching for his padawan. It took a second, but then he saw a flash of blond hair and a bouncing braid ducking between a Coruscanti couple dressed for the opera. Anakin was growing again; he was lithe and spindly, but still small for his age, and Obi-Wan blushed as he realized Anakin probably had to take two steps for every one he had made.

Anakin was breathing heavily, but he didn't seem too put out. "I lost you a couple times, but I felt for you with the Force and found you again!"

The blush became a rush of shame. How long had it slipped his mind that his padawan was with him on this trip through the city? He knew the answer, even if he was loathe to admit it to himself.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "My mind was on other things. We'll slow down."

"It feels like your mind is on many things," Anakin said, starring up at him. Obi-Wan looked back towards the setting sun, unwilling to let the prescient boy look in his eyes lest he know every secret churning inside him. Obi-Wan had just started teaching his pupil to reach out with his mind in order to ascertain the emotions of others. Like so many other things, the skill had come almost naturally to Anakin Skywalker. Now Obi-Wan regretted teaching him.

"Actually, your mind's only on one thing," Anakin intoned. "But the thoughts are so jumbled and messy!"

Definitely regretted it.

Obi-Wan slammed a mental barrier in place to keep his padawan out of his head, but he managed a pinched smile as he looked down at the boy. "Now you're just showing off."

Anakin smiled smugly, then turned to take in an opulent and colorful crimson lighting display that flickered in the dimming light and pointed the way to one of the . . . seedier neighborhoods in the district. Obi-Wan didn't particularly want his padawan to garner a curiosity for what went on down that narrow road, but for now, he was relieved that Anakin's mind was off of him and his own turbulent thoughts.

"Why did you get so upset before?"

Obi-Wan stiffened. "I didn't get upset."

"Not on the outside. But I could tell."

This child was going to be the death of him.

"Just for a second, your feelings were . . . ugly."

"Ugly?"

"Yeah, it felt like when Watto would lose while betting on the pod-races, and he knew that he wasn't getting what he wanted."

Obi-Wan picked up the pace again. Anakin could run behind him if he wanted.

"They were only ugly for a second, Master," Anakin continued. "Then they were just . . . really messy. Like my workbench when I'd work on 3PO."

How could the child sense so much but not sense that he didn't want to talk about it?

"Was it because of the angel on the viewscreen in the plaza?"

"What?"

"The angel. With the blond hair and the crown on her head."

Obi-Wan bit his lip. "She's not an angel, Anakin."

"But it is about her?"

"Anakin."

There must have been just enough of an edge in Obi-Wan's voice that his padawan fell silent.

Infinitely long shadows gave way to darkness just as they made it back to the Jedi Temple. Making their way up the front steps, Obi-Wan bade Anakin head for the padawan dormitories and get ready for bed. They had an early training session the next morning, and Obi-Wan reminded him as such, as Qui-Gon used to do with him.

Anakin raced ahead of him, swinging his arms as he took the stairs two at a time. He reached the top first and leaned against one of the pilons near the front door of the temple. He turned back to Obi-Wan, eyes alight with curiosity.

"Maybe you'll tell me about her when I'm older?"

For the second time that night, Anakin's voice stopped Obi-Wan in his tracks. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Master Windu and Master Ki-Adi-Mundi standing by one of the other pilons, looking out over the courtyard. He didn't want to risk them overhearing, so he lowered his voice and said, "When you're older, padawan."

Anakin scampered off with a smile on his face, not knowing that Obi-Wan fully intended that he would never know about that. No one would.

Obi-Wan looked to his right and found Master Windu's eyes on him. He gave a polite bow, but his heart pounded as he considered whether the experienced Jedi could read his emotions as deftly as Anakin had.

He jogged up the remaining stairs, heading for the knights' quarters. Obi-Wan passed several other knights, convinced they, too, could hear his heart beating as loudly he could. This place of peace, with the tall ceilings and the great columns of unmovable stone, felt suffocating. His stomach churned and he contemplated ducking into the refresher on this level, but the nausea abated and he continued toward his room. He needed to meditate, he needed to find his center, he needed to get rid of the ugly that was still inside of him . . .

So why were his feet taking him up two stories and towards the communication center?

Obi-Wan was standing in front of the locked door before he even knew what was happening. At this time of night, the main communications wing would be empty. Only the emergency comm room – a smaller drain on resources – would be manned through the night. That didn't mean that the consoles couldn't be used if necessary. However, the room was off-limits to all but the Jedi masters and anyone who had the code to get in.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan had the code.

Two days before, Master Sifo-Dyas had asked him to stand in for him for a communication that required the entire counsel – or hand-picked representatives standing in for them – to be present. The code would be reset at the start of the coming week, but right now, it would still be active.

Obi-Wan Kenobi prided himself on the fact that the masters trusted him – a recently appointed Jedi knight – with such authority. He was certain the only reason they did is because he wasn't the kind of man to abuse that power.

But here he was, punching in the code that would cause the door to hiss open.

Like he suspected, the wing was deserted. He stepped inside and waved his arm behind him to close the door.  He opted not to turn on the lights. He remembered the layout well enough, and this seemed to be something better done in the dark.

Lies. Guilt. Secrets.

They all came in the dark.

Obi-Wan's stomach rebelled again, but he pushed it away. The ugly feeling inside him was almost welcome in comparison.

The Jedi knight moved to the holotable. The device powered on thanks to his proximity, bathing the room in a ghostly blue light.

Now he could see the keypad.

With shaking fingers, he put in the personal location combination. It was a miracle that he remembered it; he should have had no reason to.

He pressed enter and wanted to throw up.

The seconds stretched immeasurably.

What if she wasn't there? There would be no second shot at this.

No, it would be the middle of the night on Mandalore. For a moment, he felt guilty about waking her, but at least she would be there.

And yet.

What if he wasn't waking her?

What if she wasn't alone?

The ugliness inside Obi-Wan exploded.  It swelled until it threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't breathe, but he recognized the ugly for what it was.

Suspicion.

Jealousy.

Anger.

Betrayal.

Force.

"Obi-Wan?"

She was there.

And the ugly dissipated so quickly it nearly floored him.

Peace. Beauty. Tranquility.

"Obi-Wan?" Her voice was tinny from the broadcast, and he could hear the sleepy anxiety that always came from a late-night communication. "Is that you?"

"Satine?" He ignored the boyish crack his voice made and moved closer to the device so that it would pick up his image.

"Obi-Wan!"  He registered the moment that her eyes found him. He expected – hoped – she would be excited to see him. It had been so long.  "Is everything alright? Are we in any danger?"

The professional tone threw him for a loop, and Obi-Wan felt a fool.  Even in her flowing white nightdress, she looked so regal, so in command. In his haste . . . his folly . . . he'd forgotten that this wasn't his Satine. This was the Duchess of Mandalore, a woman who, in the last six years had become responsible for a system of billions. She had far more pressing matters than the one he'd felt compelled to call about.

Obi-Wan straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. "No, your Highness, there's no danger. Nothing like that."

"Oh?" He swore he could see the hologram's eyebrow raise.

"No." He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how shabby he must look after a long day in the city. "In fact, this communication is not one of an official capacity."

She didn't say anything, but Obi-Wan could see her breathing.

"Duchess?"

"You saw the news report."

Obi-Wan held his breath. "Is it true?"

She looked ready to say something, but then the hologram rippled as Satine turned, clearly addressing someone in the room. "No, I'm fine, dear. I'll be right out."

She was with someone.

The knot in his stomach twisted into an angry blackhole that threatened to swallow him whole. No, not a blackhole. A supernova that would implode and devastate everything it could touch. Was this rage? He'd felt this once before, when he'd watched the red demon snuff the life from his beloved master. But he'd had a lightsaber, and he'd rendered justice. Now . . . his rage burned towards a faceless man, who had taken what he never could've had.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to shut the holotable down and run from the room.

"Obi?"

Her voice was an anchor, reminding him of his duty; the boundaries put in place long ago. The words rushed out. "Lady Kryze, I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your evening. This matter is certainly none of my business, and I'm very happy for you and your intended. I was calling to . . . to simply offer my congratulations."

"Are you done?"

Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled. "My lady?"

"There's no one here. I'm not getting married. You're a terrible liar, and envy's not a good look on you."

"I – you're," he stammered heavily, "what?"

She fisted her hands in her hair in frustration. "Ka'ra, you're as hopeless now as you were six years ago."

The insult brought his mind back into focus.

"I'm not the one getting married to the Duke of Taris."

"You're not getting married at all!"

He didn't have anything to say to that. Because that was the problem, wasn't it.

The silence stretched on until Satine said, softly, "I was speaking with my handmaiden. There have been some . . . threats, recently. She was checking that I was alright."

The simmering anger redirected itself towards her unknown assailants, and Obi-Wan jumped at the chance to offer something of value. "I could speak to the Council. They could send a protector."

Maybe it'd be him..

But it had the opposite effect, and Satine's face grew impassive. "I don't need a protector, Obi-Wan. We're handling the threat just fine on our own."

"Of course, your grace." He met her cordial tone, but Satine must have forgiven him the oversight, because she softened again. Qui-Gon had taught her to meditate to relative success, but her emotions had always been volatile, and his own – which he wanted to believe were more carefully controlled – tended to follow hers.

"Besides, how would you tell them I need a protector?" she teased. "You called my personal chambers . . . in the middle of the night . . . from a terminal in the Jedi Temple . . . on your own. I have to assume you didn't have permission to do that."

Obi-Wan flushed. The extent of his trespass registered with him, and he realized he'd have to sabotage the call log in order to keep the secret safe. The deception would continue.

"That doesn't sound like you, Master Jedi."

It wasn't. Except that . . .

He said nothing, but Satine seemed to read his thoughts.

"I'm not marrying the duke," she assured him, tucking her loose hair behind her ears; it was longer than it'd been before. "He's rich and powerful, but he's also spoiled and hopelessly ridiculous."

"But the news . . ."

"Rumors and hearsay! They're nothing but tabloids." She waved her hand in dismissal.  "I wouldn't put it past the duke to have spread them himself! They're all the same."

"All?"

"This isn't the first time I've had offers, Obi," she said. "Frankly, I'm surprised this is the first one you've heard of."

More burning in his gut. Force, give me peace. He realized just how stupid he was.

"Of course you have," he said, trying to attach a smile to his face. "Why wouldn't you? You're the Duchess of Mandalore, and I'm an idiot. Ni di'kut. Isn't that how you say it?"

"No, Ben, you're not that bad," Satine smiled. "Perhaps utreekov, but not di'kut."

He huffed and remembered that she had called him that numerous times during their year together. "That's hardly any better."

"It's a little better," she said, wrinkling her nose good-naturedly.

She did look like an angel, with her hair spilling over her shoulders and her white nightdress and the haloed effect of the holotable.

Beautiful. Peaceful. Serene.

And completely untouchable.

He ached to be with her, if only to hold her hand like they'd done in the evenings when Qui-Gon was away. But the physical distance mirrored the insurmountable gap between them, and though Obi-Wan's rage released into the Force, it was replaced by a sadness that, even now, he foresaw as his perpetual companion.

"Will you accept one of them?"

It was little more than a whisper as he stared down at her feet. He needed to know. Needed to hear it from her. Needed to make peace with it.  To crush the last lingering ray of hope that he now realized had been smoldering inside him for six years.

"Shouldn't I?"

Hope flared. His eyes snapped to hers.

The question could have been rhetorical but her own pointed expression confirmed it wasn't.

"Satine . . . I – I," he trailed off.  It was so tempting.

A lifetime of possibilities flashed in his eyes: arriving on Mandalore in civilian clothes and no vow save for the one he would make to her; supporting her in rebuilding her society and protecting her from those who would see it crumble; raising their children . . . a ginger-haired daughter and a blond-headed boy and . . .

Anakin.

She smiled sadly, always taking control was he was indecisive. "I sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

No, please ask!

"I saw you on the holonet with a little boy with a braid. That must be your padawan?"

He refused to wonder whether she was keeping tabs on him on the net or if she'd simply stumbled on the news story by accident.

"Yes. Master Qui-Gon handpicked him before . . ." he trailed off. "He asked me to train him."

"I miss him," she said, her voice forlorn and distant.

"As do I." In spite of himself, Obi-Wan reached out his hand toward the hologram. With little hesitation, Satine lifted her arm as well. The hologram rippled like waves in a pond as her tiny immaterial hand brushed his. Obi-Wan imagined the feel of her skin against his and refused to drop his arm.

"Anakin's very special, Satine," he said. "Qui-Gon believed he'll have an important role in this story."

The story. The grand story. The story foretold by the prophecies Qui-Gon believed so dearly.

"Then I'm certain he will."

A story much bigger than the two of them.

"I can't leave him, Satine."

"I know."

"I just wish . . ."

"Me too." There was no animosity in her voice, only resignation. Her eyes focused on where their hands still rested against one another, and then she lowered her arm. Obi-Wan felt the absence as if he were missing a limb.

"He will do great things, Obi-Wan. As will you. Master Qui-Gon would be proud." She smiled softly. "As am I."

"High praise from the one who has already done great things," he returned, hoping that his cordial words still conveyed the affection he'd never be able to offer.  The warmth of her smile convinced him that she knew.

He drank in the sight of her, knowing that he'd just have to forget again later.

"Jate'ca, Satine."

"Good-night, ner jetii. May the Force always be with you."

Her words echoed in his ears, and then the hologram flickered out of existence, leaving Obi-Wan in darkness save for the illumination of several backlit keypads.

Obi-Wan starred at the last place her image had rested. Into the Force, he released the envy he felt over her future – whatever, or whomever, that may include.  He recalled his mission as a Jedi, his duty toward Anakin, the purpose of his vow, and believed that it was enough.

"Good-bye, my duchess."

He returned to his quarters to meditate on the will of the Force.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Can’t Eat Love pt 28

Here is pt 28!

Master post linked here. 

Enjoy.

____________________________

We stared at each other silently for a few moments as the guard’s words hung in the air between us. Nate’s expression grew increasingly nervous, his head hanging down with shame before he finally spoke up.

“I hope you’ll forgive me! I truly wasn’t intending to hide it from you. But… when we spent time together, I came to look forward to how you treated me. I wasn’t sure what you already knew or didn’t know, but I knew I wanted things to stay informal, close.” He paused with a quiet sigh.  “But now I’ve waited too long.”

 “What makes you think I’ll treat you any differently?” I finally found my voice to answer. 

His head snapped up, his face incredulous at my calm words. “Lenora? Did you already know?”

“… I’m not sure.”

 In the heat of the moment, I answered completely honestly. Had I known? I wasn’t an idiot. No one of normal identity could stay at the palace for prolonged periods, and I had already memorized all the royal genealogies of the surrounding countries. I had known that the current crown prince of Tilendria’s name was the same as Nate’s, as well as his age… It was obvious.

But I had always refused to think about it.

And as I studied him from across the carriage, as he fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, I realized why.

I didn’t want him to be a prince.

____________________________

“Listen to me, Lenora.” My mother’s hand gripped my chin tightly, her fingers digging into my skin. “Your only purpose in life is to make the prince love you. You will be lovely. You will be agreeable. Whatever he says is true, his every wish is a command for you.”

Her hand tightened. “Do you understand?”

 I ignored the pain, my childish eyes looking up at her with pain and fear. “Yes, Mother.”

“Then say it.”

“Nothing matters except making the prince happy.” My voice was broken with a sob, but she ignored my distress, throwing me away from her. Unbalanced, I fell to the ground, trying to hold back tears.

“As long as you understand.” Her face inscrutable, she left the room, and alone, I curled up in a ball on the floor, crying into my hands.

____________________________

Seeing Nate’s confused face, I couldn’t help but laugh. “How about this: I’ll continue to treat you like Nate, and you continue to treat me like Lenora. No considerations for rank or station. Would that be better?”

Nate relaxed in his seat, his smile stretching across his face. “That sounds wonderful!”

 As the carriage entered the palace gates, however, his smile faded slightly. “I don’t know if my family will be there to greet us.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So I might be meeting the Royal Family on my arrival?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Way to warn a girl.”

He grinned, looking guilty. “How about I owe you?”

“Are you sure you want to be in my debt?” I gave a mischievous grin. “I’ll collect! You could end up being my servant.”

For some reason he blushed at these words, and looked away. “As long as you’re happy, Lenora.”

Before I could tease him further, however, the carriage came to a stop. We were here.

Nate stepped out first, giving me a hand to assist me out of the carriage. Hallers stood behind him, watching us with a slight smile. 

For a moment I wondered if he could overhear us talking in the carriage, and felt slightly embarrassed, even if I wasn’t sure exactly why I would be. Avoiding his gaze, I looked around, impressed. The Tilendrian Royal palace was even bigger than the one back home in Reterand. Off in the distance I could see sprawling gardens, with cobblestone paths and a few fountains. It was beautiful to look at. I couldn’t help but want to explore them further.

If Henry saw that garden he would go crazy. I chuckled at the thought.

Nate strode further, walking past rows and  rows of servants standing smartly at attention, finally reaching a small group of finely dressed people.

“Father, Mother, I’ve returned!” He announced with a smile and a formal bow.

Curious, I stepped closer, studying them. It was easy to tell the King and Queen were Nate’s parents. He had hints of his mother’s features in his face, but his height and bearing were nearly identical to the King’s. They were looking at me closely, speculation clear on their faces.

Before I could wonder about it too much, Nate stepped back, waving at me to come closer.

“May I introduce: Lady Lenora, the daughter of the Duke of Armeny.” 

I moved in front of them, giving a deep curtsey, almost touching the ground. “Your Majesties.”

The Queen stepped forward with a smile, grabbing my hand and urging me to my feet. “That was lovely dear, but no need to be so formal!”

“Yes, you’re our honored guest.” The King spoke up in a deep voice. “So please, treat this place as your home.”

The Queen started to step back, but paused as I grasped her hand with both of my own.

“Your Majesty…” My voice filled with a suppressed excitement rang out, my fingers rubbing the fold in her sleeve.

“Oh no, not again.” I heard Nate groan, but I was already too far-gone.

 “Can I study your clothes?!!”

My excited question was followed by an awkward silence.  Nate stepped forward, his face frantic. “It’s not what you think…!”

The Queen held back her head and laughed, the sound a clear happy sound. “What a wonderful child!”

“What?” Nate’s jaw dropped.

“You recognize good quality, Lenora, This is a specialty fabric from Northern Tilendria, it’s very rare!”

My eyes widened. “I thought so! The weave is so complex, but the texture is soft and comfortable. It’s amazing!”

“I’ll see if I can arrange for you to have some to study closer. It’s the least I can do for a fellow student!” At my confused expression, she laughed. “I also learned etiquette, from Mrs. Rendler when I was young.”

“Really?” I was surprised for a few moments, but it made sense given Mrs. Rendler’s experience and reputation.

The Queen grinned. “Really! But I was not nearly the student of etiquette that you are. Mrs. Rendler sings your praises constantly. Calling you a genius, a natural born queen.”

I shook my head. “She’s too kind. I only accomplished what I have thanks to her good teaching.”

“Don’t be overly modest. She doesn’t give out praise easily. You’ve done well.” She sighed. “I wish you could have met George. You two would have been perfect together.”

The happy feeling I had nourished from my conversation with the Queen withered, my stomach dropping at the last sentence.

“George…?” At my unfinished question, Nate stepped forward, frowning.

“My older brother, who passed away six years ago.”

“Ah.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. The Queen’s words struck me as strange, as was her motherly tone and gaze were completely different when speaking of her late son then when she looked on the remaining one. In fact, she had barely said more than a few words to Nate since he had arrived, either friendly or unfriendly. Nate didn’t seem to be surprised, treating it as normal.

My stomach started hurting, the thought that he might be unhappy at home disturbing me.

“In a few days we will be holding a banquet to welcome you, as well as celebrate the Prince’s return.” The Queen was smiling, the awkward atmosphere made by her previous words dissipating. “I truly hope you’ll attend.”

“Of course.” I accepted politely, “But for now, I must find an inn, to spend the night, is there one nearby?”

“Silly girl, you’re the guest of the Royal family. We’ve already arranged a room for you!” Her words were affectionate, making it difficult to argue.

“Then I will be taking advantage of your hospitality further, your majesty.” I curtsied again, feeling the Queen’s approving gaze on me.

“What a wonderful girl you’ve brought us, Nathaniel!”

He grinned as he responded. “There are many people who would agree with you.” 

____________________________

I was shown to a suite of rooms that were given to me to use, and again, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. I had known that Tilendria was a wealthier and more powerful nation than my home,  but the casual luxury around me was rather startling. Feeling rather small and unimportant, I wandered around, taking in the layout of the area.

Hallers appeared after a polite knock, and I felt a stab of relief at the familiar face. “Miss, the maids are settling in your belongings. Everything should be arranged shortly. I’ve spoken to the staff to arrange a hot bath to refresh yourself after your long trip.” 

I smiled at him warmly. “Thank you Hallers. I cannot say how grateful I am to have you with me.”

“There was no question, Miss.” Hallers tone was firm. “I am your servant. Where you are is where I should be.”

“I will miss Lia though” I thought of the young maid who had taken over for Agatha. She was always cheerful, sweet and dedicated, I who had always been so on edge in my own rooms due to the presence of a traitor, found myself relaxing and smiling more when at home. Unfortunately with the rapid nature of my departure, I didn’t feel comfortable asking her to follow me.

“She will be arriving in a few days.” Hallers showed a slight smile. “Initially she insisted on traveling with us so that you would not be inconvenienced, but she needed to arrange things at home to prepare to leave, and I convinced her to sort that out first.” His tone and expression showed his approval at her loyalty to me. I felt touched as well.

“She didn’t have to…”

“She feels the same as me, Miss.” 

“Well… thank you.” I sighed, looking around the grand rooms. “I have to admit I’ll feel better with some familiar faces around. I feel out of place here.”

Hallers’ face was stubborn.“It is their honor to have you here. You are more noble than any of them. Anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

“Like Ronan the Ridiculous?” I teased him, watching a mirthful light enter his eyes, although his face remained a professional mask.

 “That would be a good example, Miss.”

Feeling impulsive, I stepped closer and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you Hallers. I was feeling a little down after having to run away, having everything change so quickly.” I stepped away, smiling. “But I feel better now.”

Hallers stared at me in shock for a few moments, a broad grin showing on his face for just a second before disappearing. “I’ll make sure everything is arranged.” He bowed, and turned and left me alone.

____________________________

After bathing and changing, I quickly realized I had underestimated how tired I was after the long trip. Sitting on a chair in front of a fireplace, I felt myself slipping in and out of sleep.

Hallers stepped in the evening, offering to bring dinner to the room, but I refused, feeling more tired than hungry. He hadn’t been gone long, however, before another knock sounded on my door and Hallers stepped in again, a small smile on his face.

“Prince Nathaniel, Miss.”

“Let him in.” I stood up, blinking rapidly to try to rid myself of the last clinging vestiges of sleep.

“Lenora!” Nate stepped in, looking worried. “I heard you hadn’t eaten, are you alright?”

I glanced over at Hallers, who was no longer trying to hide  a pleased expression. Had he gone running straight to the prince, just because I refused dinner? Sighing internally, I shook my head. “I just wanted to nap, and wasn’t hungry. I’m fine.”

Nate stepped closer. Despite the extravagance around him, he still wore the same simple clothes he had worn around the palace in Reterand. I suddenly felt more relaxed, at ease with dealing with the same Nate I had spent hours arguing economic theory with.

“I haven’t eaten either, would you come to the kitchens with me?” He smiled brightly, and I felt briefly flustered at the sight. “I’ll cook us something to eat.”

Unsure of why my heart was beating faster, I hesitated. “Well…”

Nate’s smile faltered, his eyes taking on a pitiful expression. “You don’t want to eat my cooking?”

Seeing that, I couldn’t help it, I started laughing. “How can I say no to that?” In the corner of my eye, I saw Hallers give Nate a thumbs up, and gave him an irritated glance. “Scheming behind my back, now?” I asked him, lifting an eyebrow.

Hallers was unfazed. “You shouldn’t skip meals.” 

Feeling defeated, I followed Nate out into the hallways. We took several twists and turns, the hallways a dizzying maze. I became worried that if I got separated from Nate, I would never be able to find my way back to my rooms. 

Just as I was thinking this, I felt a warm hand grab my own. Surprised, I looked over at Nate, who despite blushing bright red, kept a serious expression.

“So you don’t get lost.” He explained quietly. I felt it was a little much and considered pulling out my hand from his grasp, but realized that I felt calmer now, more secure with his broader palm covering my own smaller one, our fingers interlaced tightly together. In the end I nodded silently, and followed behind him as we walked towards the kitchen. 

“Just as we were turning the corner, however, we overheard two girls talking.

____________________________

“Did you see the young noblewoman Prince Nathaniel brought home?” One asked, her tone derogatory.

Nate started to step out, his face showing annoyance, but I held him back, shaking my head. I felt curious as to what the general attitude was towards my arrival. These two were obviously servants working in the palace. Information gathering is so much easier with Rig. I sighed.

“That poor hick?” The other girl answered, chuckling. “I would hesitate to call her a noblewoman. Is that how Reterand nobles dress? I was more presentable than her!”

As they both laughed at that, I held tightly onto Nate’s hand, holding him place as his face started turning red and angry the more he heard. He looked over at me, only to realize I was barely holding back laughter.

I had been traveling for days when they saw me. Who on earth would wear a fine dress for that? 

I felt amused at their words, but my levity was quickly doused by their next words.

 “So she’s a perfect match for Prince Nathaniel then.” The first girl’s voice was vicious. “Two disappointments together.” 

“If only it had been Prince Nate who died instead of Prince George that day.” The second girl sighed. “Now HE was truly noble. Handsome, kind, charming…”

“He would have never have brought back such a woman. Did you hear? Her butler personally vetted any servant that would be working near her! How arrogant is she?”

“As if anyone would want to serve her!”

“I agree.” My voice startled them, as I stepped around the corner, a gentle smile on my face masking the anger churning in my stomach. Their words against me were just noise, but as soon as I heard them talk about Nate like that… I spared the slightest glance to the wall I had shoved Nate behind with a quick whispered order to stay put.

Now, seeing my face, the girls’ arrogance drained from their faces. “Miss…”

“How fortunate I am, to be overlooked by the servants of the Tilendrian Royal Palace. Being cared for my those who would wish their prince dead, I would have to sleep with one eye open.”

Despite my light tone, the two weren’t fooled. “We didn’t…” One girl stepped forward, her face pale as she protested.

I didn’t let her speak, interrupting coldly. “I wonder what the penalty is for speaking threats against the royal family in this palace?”

“…” Terrified, the girls stared at each other, and then at me. I had no proof, but as an esteemed guest and noblewoman, they both realized that my word would be taken seriously. If I accused them of these crimes….

Letting the silence last for a few more moments, I reached out and tapped their bowed heads. “Do you know where you went wrong?”

Surprised, they looked up at me, a hopeful light in their eyes. “Miss?” 

“Don’t speak such terrible things anymore. Prince Nathaniel is a wonderful, caring person, and doesn’t deserve anything but your loyalty.” I grinned. “As for a country hick like me, you can gossip about me all you like!” 

They stared at me incredulously, taking in my now beautiful clothing and jewelry. “I don’t think we can dare call you that, Miss.”

“Well, let’s pretend this never happened then, and just promise me to serve the prince well from now on.” 

One girl, her eyes filled with tears of gratitude, grabbed my hands. “Thank you!” 

With that they left, leaving an awkward silence behind them.

“Can I come out now?” Nate’s voice was amused, to my relief. 

“Yep!” At my answer he stood up, walking next to me with a slight grin on his face.

“You didn’t have to say all that.” His soft words were filled with gratitude, but I was still feeling annoyed.

“Yes I did!” I put my hands on my hips, “What is going on here?! Why is everyone like this?”

A sad smile on his face, he reached out and grabbed my hand again, pulling me along. “Let’s get some food first.”

____________________________

We arrived at the kitchens and Nate busied himself with fixing us a stew. I watched with wide eyes as he easily handled a knife, chopping vegetables with an efficient, practiced motion.

“You weren’t joking when you said you could cook!”

He grinned at that, his hands never pausing in his work as he spoke. “It’s something I enjoy.”

A comfortable silence fell between us, but I didn’t let it go on too long.

“So what’s going on here? The Queen, even the servants…?” I didn’t know how to phrase my question, but he understood, nodding slightly as he started trimming fat from the cut of meat he had selected. 

“I told you about my older brother before?” 

“Yes, you said I reminded you of him.”

He sighed. “Only in that you both are passionate and driven people. But you.. you weigh things carefully, plan ahead, protect those around you. George….” He trailed off, combining all the ingredients in a pot and cooking it. “Thought and action worked simultaneously together for him. He would find a cause and immediately rush out and try to fix things, with no thoughts to the implications, the dangers… the consequences.” 

“…” I quietly watched him cook, his eyes sad, and felt a sharp pain in my chest.

“We were brothers, though, so I made sure to help him out. Smooth things over, clean up the messes, keep him from messing up too badly. I thought we were a team.”

He was silent for a while, watching the pot over the flame.

“But no matter how hard I worked, no matter how hard I tried… it was always George who was praised in the end. A perfect son, a perfect ruler, while I…” He grinned, but the expression was unbearably sad. “I was the disappointment.”

He met my eyes for a few moments, before turning to stare at the pot once more. “I was always chasing after him, trying to be recognized, to be the one they were proud of.” 

“But he died.” I whispered, the words making him flinch.

“Yes.” Nate’s voice was flat, emotionless. “He died. And all of a sudden I was competing with a perfect memory. One that would never grow, never change, never tarnish. I’m stuck.”

I reached out to comfort him, but my hand froze in the air. What was i doing? I pulled my hand back quickly, feeling relieved when he didn’t seem to notice.  

Nate served the meal, waiting anxiously to see my reaction as I took a bite. My eyes widened with shock as I eagerly took a few more bites, my appetite awoken by the taste.

“This is amazing!”

He laughed, a pleasant sound. “You like it?”

“I do!” I reluctantly set down my spoon, looking at him seriously. “This may not mean much, coming from me, but you’re not a disappointment. You’ve worked so hard, helped me set up charities, had my back during dangerous moments… you even negotiated fights between Jim and I on taxation policies.” I chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that last one qualifies you for sainthood.”

He joined in my laughter, seeming to truly relax for the first time since we arrived. “It does mean a lot.” He grinned. “Especially coming from you.”

Seeing his smile, I felt happy, but at the same time anxious and afraid.  Shaking my head, dispelling the mood that had settled between us.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

If Nate noticed my forced changing of the subject, he didn’t comment further. “Well, I figured you would want to check out your new storefront as soon as possible.”

I nodded. “That’s correct. There’s not much time before the grand opening.”

“But afterwards…” He hesitated. “Would you like to see some of the changes I’ve made since I came back here a few years ago?” Nate seemed embarrassed. “I used a lot of our discussions as well as principles from our lessons, and I would love for you to see it and give your opinion.”

“Sure! I’d be happy to!” My enthusiastic answer seemed to cheer him up, and once again I found myself looking away from his happy face, feeling awkward.

We finished the meal in silence, both of us smiling for no reason at all.

[diningpageantry]

We Are Far Too Young and Clever

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327977/chapters/48197671

Chapter 1/6 of We Are Far Too Young And Clever

Word Count: 3,068

Summary: Youtube's a buzzing, content-creating platform, where people from all walks of life can create and share. Simon Snow and Baz Pitch are on a rise at two very different angle, but by the coincidence of shared people, they clash and come together at all the right (and wrong) times.

~~~~~~~~~~

SIMON

I don’t really remember how it started.

Well, that’s a lie. I remember starting it. I remember setting up my mobile, using a mirror to make sure it was at the right angle (using random little things like Penny’s tiny bottles of face cleansers and such to keep it propped, despite them continuously slipping). I remember it being half past 3 in the morning on a Thursday right before a final. I wasn’t studying. I can’t study--I can’t make myself study, I should say. Never could. And, I remember laying out craft scissors, glitter glue tubes, googly eyes, and finding old class notes to go to town on.

I remember the build up.

I remember the upload, and I remember thinking nothing of it.

But I don’t remember the rise.

More to this, I don’t really know why anyone really watches my videos. I think it’s sort of dumb to watch a man now climbing further into his mid-to-late twenties sitting on his living room floor, working in a ranging the state of his soberness from completey dry to beyond wrecked, and doing shitty primary school crafts.

But then again, I’m the man making them, so I guess I’m not particularly the one to judge on this front.

Part of me still really doesn’t connect the popularity with myself--like it’s been Penny’s doing. Which, she says, might be partially true. She already had a decent enough following, but I’m on a completely different genre. She does educative videos, and she stays popular because they’re on current events topics (defines hot topics, explains what a certain celebrity is in trouble for, yada yada). I call her the cliffnotes of the ever-rolling social media 15 minutes of fame. She asks me if I’ve ever needed to read a book with cliffnotes, and I didn’t have much defense besides “You know, I was an English minor.” (“For the first year, yeah.” “Still, had a year of it.”)

But for me? I don’t do anything new or appealing.

I think I might be a handsome face (which, in all honesty, would be a nice brag, if I could actually maintain a relationship). Or maybe it’s because I can get a bit funny, especially when I’m plastered. And there’s never really any instructions when I do these things. I have a Pinterest board, a google search option, and a flow of craft store gift cards at my disposal to make shit work.

Or, maybe, I’m just entertaining.

I’m not really confident on that front, but I’ll take what I can get.

I don’t mind it much. People seem to like the videos, and I never mind making them. Brilliant distraction, and surprisingly decent income (especially since crafts require products, so sponsors are easy to get for videos, and I never feel really guilty because I’d have to get shit to use anyway).

Penny gets on my arse about my sleep schedule, though.

“Why can’t you do special editions of Simon’s Arts ‘N Crafts in the morning?” She asks, or more complains, hovering over the kitchen bar with a mug between her hands and her flannel pyjama bottoms on. It’s nearing 1 in the morning now, and I’m just cracking open my second beer. (Don’t actually like them, but they’re tolerable.)

“Aesthetic, Penn.” I cringe after a thick gulp, squeezing my eyes tight. Shit tastes like a gym sock. “Premise of it all to put up a video that looks like a bloke who hasn’t properly slept in 10 years on his floor trying to build a shitty flower crown.”

She’s been a bit fed up with it for a little while, and I can see her point. Insomniatic tendencies aren’t something you particularly want to profit off of, but it pays the bills (and gives me something better to do than stare at my ceiling and try to count sheep into the thousands).

I hear her huff, my back turning to grab my mobile off the counter as I try to chug back a few more gulps.

Thumbing through notifs, I see a post alert for Baz Pitch. Something on Twitter--commenting on the flawed mentality of what socialistic systems are seen as vs what they are, or some other poshly worded bullshit about something that only really matters if you’re taking a secondary school course on politics.

Or if you’re Penny, I guess.

“You’re looking at Baz’s shit again,” she mumbles over her mug, sipping slowly as I glare back.

“What?”

“You get this look on your face--that one where your brows come together and makes you look constipated.”

“Yes, and? What about it?”

She smirks. “Well, you only ever get that when you’re looking at something Baz posted.

I pull my brows together when I look away, just for emphasis, and slip my mobile into my pocket. “Not only,” I counter, going for another pointed sip and holding back a cringe as I point at her, going on. “And it’s only because he’s full of himself. I don’t need, nor do I want to hear his halfhearted ramblings on something that he won’t have any affect on.”

“Then why do you have him on post-notifs?”

I try to look offended, but I just stare, mouth hanging open. “Maybe I like to keep a keen eye on him.”

She hums, unsatisfied.

“Excuse me for wanting to keep track of the man I’ve got an ongoing tiff with.”

“Ongoing tiff? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

I shrug, ignoring that with another shitty gulp.

“Look, Simon, just talk to the bloke. He’s a smart guy, if you give him a second of your time and attention beyond a twitter feud over some dumb shite like his family upbringing.”

“He’s rich, Penn! Guy’s a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” she gives me a halfhearted shrug, leaning more over the counter. “You’re just mad that he’s got more following on his personal Twitter than you do on your proper Instagram.”

“Of course not.” She’s right, but I won’t dare admit it.

I’ll never admit to being jealous of Basilton fucking Pitch--some bloody political page gone pretty boy vlogging. His main work is only relevant because he talks about shit that’s within the dizzying political-sphere, nothing of which is something I really like to think about (I vote for whoever Penny describes as the best, then hope some other prick doesn’t throw us deeper into the cesspool that is this Brexit nightmare).

But he has his vlogging channel. A popular one, at that. Talks about what he’s reading, where he’s traveling. Skincare routine. Mindless bullshit, that I’ve forced myself to sit through just so I have a proper excuse to go off complaining about him.

Never seen the bloke break a proper smile, though. Not even in fan pictures. He smirks, and he’s got a barking, bitter laugh, but I’ve never heard anything that relates “Joyous” and “Basilton” in a similar sentence.

It’s a wonder he and Penn interact amicably.

She scoffs at me, sipping her tea slowly as my shoulders slump, beer can held tight enough in my hand that it’s denting in at my fingers. I should probably let go of it.

“Are you gonna help me set up?” I ask, deflating from the conversation and trying to distract with a new one.

“If you need help.”

“Need? No. Want? Yeah.”

She rolls her eyes, settling the mug down onto our countertop anyway before turning to start dragging the lights out of the side closet while I polish off my drink and head to grab my camera and tripod.

I’ve gotten better at this over the years. Swapped majors from social work to media studies, then minored in advertising, once the channel had hit 1k subscribers. Hadn’t quit my dayjob at the cafe until I hit 100k, but the steady rise since hasn’t been bad to us. Penny’s got a decent income, too, and she still decides to work in the school’s library as she’s working on her PhD in Sociology.

The flat’s a better one than the one we’d started in. We’ve even got a guest bedroom (screams disposable income). And, well, nicer equipment. A real sense of seriousness and maturity while we work.

Well, mostly.

I’m speaking as the grown man with a metal cabinet full of crafts supplies.

Business man with craft supplies.

Makes me sound more professional than “Newly 27 year old Youtuber who does nothing of serious impact, other than hoping to make others smile while throwing together terribly made, barely functioning crafts.”

I make my way back into the living room after setting up the camera and wandering back off, arms full of supplies as Penny starts setting up cameras, glancing over her shoulder. “What’d you choose tonight?”

I look down, then plop myself onto the floor and spread out my shit. “Uhh,” I say, shifting through. “I was thinking a beer can ghost.”

“Beer can ghost?”

I nod, holding up the gauze and glue. “As a Happy Halloween episode.”

“It’s not even October yet, Si.”

I shrug. “September’s close enough.” I grin, going off to grab my empty beer can and sprawling back out onto the floor. “Want to join in?”

“I think I’ll take a rain check for this episode, thank you.” She smiles teasingly, brushing past and messing my hair a bit as I’m settling myself onto the hardwood floor. I don’t take it harshly; I never take her harshly. I don’t think I’ve got the room to take it harshly, given I don’t seriously have anyone else in my life besides her (at least on a consistent basis).

“Suit yourself!” I call back, watching her disappear into her bedroom while shutting the door behind herself.

Before going at it, I take and post a quick Instagram picture at the layout in front of me, adding Halloween-themed emojis (so everyone knows I’m serious about wanting to get festive) as the caption.

I sigh and clear up my space, glancing around to make sure the area looks clean-enough, then get up to press start. It takes a second to make my way back and get myself properly situated on the floor, exhaling quietly and collecting my thoughts before shooting my head up and grinning at the camera angled a few feet away and slightly above eyeline with me.

“Hey everyone! Welcome back to Simon’s Arts ‘N Crafts!”

BAZ

I don’t understand the hype of Simon Snow.

I never truly have. He feels like he’s the sort of mindless bloke to pull out a guitar at uni and unironically start playing Wonderwall.

Allow me to rephrase; I don’t understand the hype of Simon Snow’s channel.

Snow himself, on the other hand, is a different story.

Cheerful smile, rosey cheeks. Curls that stick out at all angles (you’d think he’d try to style them properly, given he’s got the time and money now, but he doesn’t; he looks as disheveled as the day his channel began). Snow’s an utter mess just trying to occupy himself while avoiding other aspects of life, and somehow, for reasons I can’t chalk up to anything but his glittering disposition, he’s popular.

Not too popular, no. A couple million popular. Sponsored by major chains popular, due to the spike in young hobbyists trying to “Unleash their inner child” following his lead. But, of course, he donates huge portions to schools, giving them arts supplies and, for some saintly reason, gives to orphanages too.

I wonder at times if there’s anything deeper than just a handsome public face and overly generous donor. And, usually, I try to doubt there is, but I can’t quite ignore the occasional sign that Simon Snow may be a saint, and I fucking hate him for it.

I hate him for a number of reasons, starting with “He hates me”, and ending with “He’s gorgeous, and he hates me”.

I scroll down my Instagram feed, then refresh, immediately getting his post as a priority (I feel as though I’d be damned if anyone knew how often I go to simply look at him, or try to snoop through his older pictures to put the pieces together). It’s not much; his lap, which is a pair of grey joggers (Chris, I bet he looks fit in them), mismatched athletic socks, and a pile of half pulled-apart gauze, supplies for paper mache, an emptied beer can, and a sponge brush laying on a disposable plastic tarp. It’s simply captioned with a set of emojis that are definitely a few weeks too early.

baz.pitch Can’t count a calendar, Snow? Not surprised.

I stare at the comment for a brief moment, jaw clenching and swallowing back the strange, twinge that comes with our either interaction as quickly as it appears before trying to scroll and avoid any further thoughts on the matter.

It isn’t much longer before a notification drops down, hanging over the top of my screen.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Are you still awake, or sleep-commenting?

I snort and tap onto it, letting the direct messaging screen load up.

baz.pitch: I am awake

baz.pitch: Is there something you want, Bunce?

Penelope Bunce and I interact far more than I’d originally thought we would. At first, when she first reached out, I’d assumed we’d quarrel, given her general harshness brought through her Twitter account, but I soon learned that she and I have a good bit in common. Personal views align, and she’s got a devilishly sharp sense of humour on her (not that I’d ever tell her, of course). Never thought I’d consider her not only an ally, but a friend in this harsh digital age, but I’ve found solace in her conversations.

That, and she teases Snow for me more than I could ever repay her for.

When I say tease, it isn’t quite the taunting I find myself regularly drawn into, but rather the simple name drop can be enough to get him to squirm in place (I know; I’ve seen it through live streams). I’ve never found it in myself to say any of my opinions on Snow to her, but given her intellect, I’d assumed she knows far more about my views of him than what Snow knows himself.

Which, at times, scares me. Nobody should know any vulnerability about me, unless I know equally as much incriminating information on them.

But so far, I haven’t had much a reason to worry.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Do you know when you’ll find yourself in London again?

Interesting question.

Intentionally? Who the fuck knows.

As of recent, my life has consisted of no proper flat (which has begrudgingly left me living in my family’s manor, avoiding a permanent residence) while I hop about the island, then once a month, I spend a week in some various part of Europe. I just see it as trying to squeeze the most out of my life as a pitiful bachelor, but some others (Snow) consider this as me being a privileged arsehole and not wanting to commit to a proper life. (For the record, I regularly donate to LGBTQ+ nonprofits, but you don’t see me flaunting it in my personal work.)

Whatever. He probably hasn’t gotten snogged in the back of a Porsche in Venice during late spring.

Although, admittedly, that wasn’t very fulfilling.

Those trips never quite are.

And, sadly, neither are the men. All looking somewhat of a similar face; square jawed, wide-nosed. Long necks, wide shoulders, and curly hair that I love to tug and hold back.

But none of them are ever named Simon, and none of them hit quite the spot that this damned yearning has held.

Which is, I suppose, why I’m rarely ever in London. I’m not sure what I’d do with myself in London, unless I’m there with a purpose. I feel like I might go off the rails and try to actually find Snow without the guidance of some other party. I’d be a walking disaster.

baz.pitch: Depends on why you’re asking

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Well, a couple of reasons.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Which all ultimately have the same suggested outcome of us collaborating on a video, and I’m not particularly set on getting myself out to Hampshire to sit in your frankly terrifying mansion.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Plus, you can put me out of my misery and finally speak to Simon in person, for once. He’s driving me mad, and at this point, I’d pay for you to just put him to silence in person, for once.

As tempting as it seems, a small part of me worries that Bunce is believing that I’d sock Snow instead of snog him (maybe both are possible, but assaulting someone on their own property is risky at best).

I stare at my screen for a good, long pause, worrying at my lip as her typing pop-up ceases. It’s hard to not leap at opportunities I really wish to take--to just hold my dignity to somewhat of a respectable point.

But Snow crashes any barriers of my real rigidity.

He has for well over a few years now--ever since we were introduced digitally.

I’ve found myself watching his videos, over and over again, and trying to imagine how we’d play about. I like to wonder whatever happened to that pretty girlfriend of his (I’m aware they broke up, but he’s certainly too private to share the rest).

It’s been years since I first heard about Snow, and since then, I can’t quite get him off my mind.

It’s quite dizzying, trying to get Snow off my thoughts. I try to occupy--I try to fulfill. I try to find my way through life without some dull half-rivalry, full-teasing he and I share through out linked lives, but it’s like a drug. Draws me in, making me wish I had more of a good thing while trying to ignore that the good thing isn’t quite good for me, but rather simply a shocking want, prickling under my skin and bringing me back for more.

In all the things I do to occupy myself--to occupy the life I’ve been trying to lead (without success)--Snow’s been my favorite distraction. And I might just have to break through this and meet him, for once.

baz.pitch: Give me a time and a place and I’ll fit you into my schedule

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Licht’s daughter tries to hide that she’s scared. (LawLicht, Fem Licht)

“I want to go to that house next!” Lucy pointed to a house that was elaborately decorated for Halloween. Licht nodded and took her daughter’s hand to cross the street and go to the house. She thought her daughter made an adorable little fairy. Even when she wore a costume, her angelic light shone through in her smile.

Lucy held a large bag of candy in one hand and its weight made her walk slower. They offered to carry it for her several times but she stubbornly refused. Between Lucy’s short legs and the heavy bag, they made slow progress through the neighbourhood. He didn’t mind because he could see her happy. He lived for over a thousand years so he knew how quickly time passed. Hyde wanted to make a lot of memories with his family.

“After this house, we should empty your bag in the car.” Hyde suggested. When they reached the other side of the road, he realized that the building was actually a haunted house attraction. He stopped Lucy before she could run inside. “This house might be too scary for you, Luce. Let’s go to the next one.”

“But the candy! Big houses with lots of decorations like this has the best candy. I’m not scared, Dad. If Dad is too scared to go in, you can wait here while Lucy go with Mom.” She insisted and stomped her foot. Lucy was on a mission to collect as many chocolate as possible. “I know the decoration are fake so they don’t scare me. I can deduke like Sherlock.”

“It’s ‘deduce’, Lucy.” Licht said and Lucy repeated the word. She didn’t want to waste time with their disagreement when they could be trick-or-treating. She read the sign in front of the haunted house and said, “This says that the haunted house is for all ages so it can’t be that scary. How about you go in first? If you think she can handle it, we’ll go next. Lucy, let’s go to the house next door while Dad goes into the haunted house.”

“But Lucy is a brave angel.” While she pouted, she took her mother’s hand. She waved to her Dad as they walked to the house next door. Licht was glad they found a compromise and they could return to having a fun night. Then, Lucy let go of her hand and ran to Hyde before he entered the haunted house. He thought she would continue to argue but she took her bag to him.

He was confused but he took it for her. Lucy explained, “If there’s candy at the end of the haunted house, get a lot! Lucy will ask the neighbour to give extra candy for Dad.”

“What a smart angel you are, Luce.” He patted her head. “But I can’t take your bag or you won’t be able to carry the candy the neighbour gives you. Don’t worry, I’ll stuff my pockets full of candy for you. Go collect candy from the rest of the houses with Mom while I conquer this haunted house.”

Lucy nodded and skipped back to her mother. She stopped in front of a scarecrow that sat on a bench. He thought she was scared by the realistic decoration and walked towards her so he could comfort her. Suddenly, the scarecrow stood and Lucy screamed. Both Hyde and Licht raced to their daughter but he reached her first. He picked her up and held her protectively in his arms. Licht reached their side and stood in front of her family. She kicked the scarecrow and knocked him to the ground.

“What was that for? I was just pulling a prank.” The scarecrow took off his mask and she realized that he was merely a teenager. Licht didn’t feel guilty for kicking him though. She thought it was the appropriate punishment for scaring her daughter. She turned to Lucy to reassure her that she had purified the demon. In Hyde’s arms, Lucy swung her bag and struck the teenager.

“Bad demon!” Lucy yelled. “Scaring an angel when pretending to be decoration is cheating.”

“He learned his lesson, Lucy. Let’s get back to trick-or-treating.” He said and she nodded. Lucy pointed to a house across the street and they walked back.

“We’re here.” Gil’s voice woke Hyde. He groaned softly because his arm was asleep and it tingled slightly. Licht rested her head on his arm during the drive back to the house. Both of his angels were sleeping with relaxed expressions. He was careful not to wake them as he took off their seatbelts. Hyde moved Licht onto his back and then scooped Lucy into his arms.

He was glad that Gil opened the door for him as he carried his family out of the car. They were no longer Servamp and Subclass but the man stayed to support Hyde and the family he made. He would never tell him that he thought of him as a father figure but they both understood his feelings. Hyde whispered, “Thanks, Old Man. You can have a handful of the candy as payment.”

“Lucy will be mad that you’re giving away her candy.” Gil retorted.

“We have some candy in the fridge. Licht and I were thinking of giving out candy but that plan is cancelled now that she’s asleep. It was an eventful night. Can you get the door for us?” He asked. He couldn’t move well while he carried his family but he loved them. They spoke softly as they walked into the house. “Thanks, Gil. I can handle the rest by myself.”

Gil nodded and Hyde walked up the stairs to their bedroom. The house was dark but his hands weren’t free to turn on the lights. He knew the layout well and he only needed the moonlight streaming through the window. It amused him how Licht clung to him even as she slept on his back. He wished she would be as affectionate and honest when she was awake.

The floor creaked beneath his feet and roused Licht. He gently blew onto her bangs and chuckled at the irritated expression she made. “Good morning, Angel Cakes.”

“We’re home already?” Licht opened her eyes, expecting to be in the car. She glanced around the hallway and realized he must’ve carried them into their home. She climbed higher onto his back so she could look over his shoulder. Lucy slept peacefully in his arms and Licht smiled at the sight. She slid off his back and stood next to him with her arms spread.

He placed their daughter in her arms and she cradled her close. Licht took off the flower crown Lucy wore and kissed her forehead. “She’s out like a light. I thought she would be wide awake with a sugar rush since she ate so much chocolate in the car.”

“We’ll have to make her brush her teeth twice in the morning.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He didn’t let her go as he opened Lucy’s bedroom door. Licht laid her on the bed and stroked her blond hair. Hyde sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, “She stayed up past her bedtime. Should we let her sleep in tomorrow? It’s the weekend.”

“We spoil her so much,” Licht laughed softly. She was careful not to wake Lucy and spoke quietly. They started to leave but she realized that Lucy was clutching on her shirt. She looked back down at her and something about her expression worried her. While she didn’t have a worried expression, her brows were stiff. “What’s wrong, Lucy. Wake up.”

“Is she sick?” Hyde lightly patted her cheek to wake her up. He hadn’t noticed anything when he carried her inside. She appeared fine now as well. Lucy opened her eyes and Licht hugged her tightly. He leaned over them with a worried expression. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you ate too much chocolate.”

“Were you having a nightmare, Sweetie?” Licht asked her softly. Her daughter didn’t respond but that was enough of an answer for her. She sat up and lifted Lucy onto her lap. Hyde sat next to them and stroked her hair tenderly. “Was it something you saw tonight? You can tell Mom if you’re scared, Lucy. Mom and Dad are here to protect you but you need to tell us what to look for.”

“Angels are brave.” She whispered and buried her face into Licht’s chest. “Scarecrow demon almost tricked me.”

“But he didn’t. You did a very good job purifying that bad man when you hit him. He couldn’t have followed us home so you don’t need to be scared here. There’s an angelic barrier that keeps demons out.” Hyde reassured her.

Licht turned on the nightlight next to her bed. “Angels are brave but that doesn’t mean that we don’t get scared. I get scared sometimes too. When I’m afraid, I lean on Dad and my friends. Do you want to sleep with us tonight?”

Lucy nodded and asked, “Can you check under the bed so he’s not hiding there?”

“Of course,” Hyde nodded.

They got ready for bed and soon Licht was humming them to sleep. Lucy slept between them and her snoring mixed together with the song Licht made. Hyde stroked her head to ease her to sleep. When he sighed, she looked up at him. He frowned and said, “Am I a terrible dad? I couldn’t tell that she was having a nightmare but you could.”

“You can’t tell easily because she doesn’t make a fuss or toss in bed. It’s small things like this furrow between the brows.” She reached up and poked his forehead. “You’re the same when you have nightmares. That’s how I could tell when I saw Lucy’s face.”

“It’s lucky that we have an angel to watch over us when we have nightmares.” He sat up and pressed a loving kiss onto her lips. “If you get scared or have nightmares, tell us and we’ll protect you.”